New Zealand's Goblin Forest
Honoured to have received some wonderful results from this yearâs @greatwalksmag Wilderness Photographer of the Year competition, including a win for âCreatures in the Shadowsâ (photo 1)
benjamin.maze
Mike Driver
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
AnasAbdin
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
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Show & Tell

JVL
Keni
I'd rather be in outer space đž
TVSTRANGERTHINGS

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Janaina Medeiros
Xuebing Du
i don't do bad sauce passes
ojovivo
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blake kathryn
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we're not kids anymore.

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@sanriohaechan
New Zealand's Goblin Forest
Honoured to have received some wonderful results from this yearâs @greatwalksmag Wilderness Photographer of the Year competition, including a win for âCreatures in the Shadowsâ (photo 1)
benjamin.maze
Best friends meetingâŠ
(^_^)
ê°àŸàœČ đ”đżđ°đž đđ đžđđ ê±àŸàœČ
ê° đ©đ«đšđđđđ đ°đąđđĄ đđđźđđąđšđ§ . . . ê± 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 .
đϱ đđđ đđđđ đ»đđ đ·đđđđ¶ . . . phew à«źê°àŸàœČâ©ÂŽ á” â©ê±àŸàœČá 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 ! ! ! !
â âteoooo!âÂ
black, thick heeled, mary jane loafers drum against the burnished, cherry oak panels of flooring. tiptaptiptaptiptap. a girlâs 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.Â
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.Â
empty.
a wee, mean pout graces your lips, plush and glazed over with the sweet, artificial, watermelon flavoring of a lollipop to whichâs stick you hold between small fingers, and to further showcase your ever-growing frustration, as if your groans and huffs werenât enough, you stomp your foot prior to lifting your chin and belling out a firm, â 'teo!âÂ
heâs not in his room, in the backyard, nor the kitchen.Â
âmateoâs a teenager now,â youâve heard your mother tell her friends last week over raspberry iced teas and fruit tarts after their book club meeting. youâd 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. âhe goes to school, eats us out of house and home, does his chores, then holes up in the basement. i donât like it, but â it isnât the toddler days so, i guess i canât be too mad.â
the basement.
once more, the tapping staccato of your mary janeâs 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.
âopen it and freddy kreugerâs goinâ to snatch you in, slit your stomach, and replace your guts with maggots and worms,â 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. âstay out of the basement. you have your playroom and i have mine.â
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. youâd snuck the dvd out of mateoâs 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 â 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 youâd choke and faint at that same moment, you reach for the gold handle of the doorknob.Â
youâre a brave girl â the bravest of them all.Â
â. . . âteo?â your voice is a meek whimper as the door is pushed til only a slither of space separates it from the threshold.Â
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.
âmateo?â itâs only right that your fear starts to transcend and tiptoe a line of irritation. you feel as though youâre 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.Â
the corners of your lips are tugged downwards when you take in the scene in front of you.Â
it isnât 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 â 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.Â
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 gameâs loading screen â 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. heâs chewing on what looks like a handful of them, murmuring, â âm gonna whoop your ass, jaeger. watch this.â while crumbs fly out of his mouth with enough force to compare to bullets.Â
you cringe at the sight, prior to finally making yourself known.
âmateo.â
two heads snap towards you, and you happen to meet a green eyed stare first.Â
if asked, you wouldnât have been able to describe it back then â 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.Â
the thing is, youâve always been a bit of a shy girl, opting to stand behind your parentsâ 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 thruâs window or raise your hand in class, granted you almost always knowing the answers . . nonetheless, you donât think this current feeling compares to those. itâs something deeper â 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 â âsorry, man. this my lilâ sis ( â€ïž ). ( â€ïž ), this eren, say hi,â youâre only able to fester enough courage to lift a hand and flutter your shaking fingers.Â
eren is your brotherâs age, you can tell. he wears from what you could see, a plain black tee with a bandâs 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. âhey, âs cool to meet you.â 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, âtil finally, you let them land on the fine dark hairs that line the top of his plump, upper lip. nadeshiko â youâd been taught the word a few weeks ago by one of your friends who was japanese. âitâs a really, really pretty shade of pink. kinda like bubblegum.âÂ
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 donât know. but they were pretty . . he was pretty.
âmm,â 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. âm-mommy wants you, âteo.â
your brother lets his head fall back before giving a short groan and setting his controller down to then stand, âalright. holâ on, bro. iâll be back.â
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 canât help but pout upon the realization that heâd been reimmersed into the video game, not another regard of you given.
â â  â â  â â  â â  â€ïž
you hadnât 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.
youâd watch him smile with your brother, watch the magnificent sea green of his eyes glimmer before theyâd 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.
âalright, maâ. we headinâ to jjâs party â iâll be home by eleven like you said.â
parties, parks, football games, basketball courts, youâd never seen your brother hang out with someone as much as he does eren.Â
kindled summers peppered with warm nights and the comforting buzz of fireflies and cicadas phase into the chambrĂ© 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 â 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, heâd 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.Â
itâs 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 mateoâs 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 ceremonyâs over, watching them take what seemed like a million pictures and videos of the two boys on their day, until youâre ultimately nudged by your mother between them. âpicture with your sister, mateo, câmon! big smiles â you three are so cute. oh my god, michael, look at them!â
more than hyperaware of erenâs 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 mateoâs backs. heâd smelt of fresh soap and cedarwood, that day â potent and electrifying. you scramble between feeling relived and bummed when the pictures are over and heâs giving mateo a goodbye hug. âiâll see you later, man. probably tomorrow or somethinâ,â heâs smiling after pulling away. âyou know me.â
âoh, for sure,â mateo nods. âgo find your moms. tell her i said hi.â
he gives you one last wave and you return it with a warm smile.
for years to come, thatâd be the last memory youâd have of eren jaeger.
with mateo off to college and you a freshmen in high school, itâs difficult to find intel on where heâd gone. he had fled the city, that was for sure, nonetheless, no one knew where, not even mateo. âhe always told me he wanted to be a tattoo artist . . you canât do that in the suburbs,â clarified your brother on his rare visit home for thanksgiving. âerenâs never had social media either so,â he shrugged, face smoothed over with indifference. âhopefully heâs okay wherever he is.â
you suppose itâs true when they say high school is one of the fastest four years of your life. itâs all a blur.Â
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. youâre crowned as âthe sweetestâ and âmost likely to be successfulâ within the yearbook and accepted into the most prestigious university two states over from where your parents lived, bringing you here today.
itâs now your sophomore year of college. the first year had been something . . enervating, youâd say. you had hardly even left your dorm â 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 youâd lack come the years before.Â
today, youâre nineteen. itâs only the second month of the semester and youâre already studying for two midterms.Â
âokay, so, what about tomorrow?â
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. âmm-mm, gigi. tomorrow i plan to catch up on sleep.â
your roommate, giselle, is nothing short of a character. on first greetings, sheâd been quiet and kind â 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. sheâs kind of loud, energetic, stubborn, fun . . always down for a night out. it shocks you how she still maintains anything above a three point oâ.Â
she sits upon her bed, compact mirror in hand that she holds dangerously close to her eye where she adjusts a strip lash upon, âmm, what about sunday?â
âuh uh.â
âokay, next thursday?â
âcramming for a quiz.â
giselle lets her arms flap onto her lap as she fixes you with an exhausted stare, âfriday, then.â
âcanât. visiting my parents next weekend.â
âoh my god.â
she throws her head back, âseriously, ( â€ïž ). can we fucking hang out for once? i never see you outside of this room.â
you play with a ring on your finger, twisting it left and right while you hesitate, âi dunno, gi.âÂ
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, âtonight then. just me, you, and like two of my other friends. weâre gonna go to a bar, my big cousin works there, she can sneak us a shot or two â itâll be fun. weâll only be there âtil like, ten thirty.â
quietly, you mull her words over. last time you went outâd 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 itâs time for a break, to indulge in lifeâs simple pleasures again. why not?Â
âokay,â you melt where you sit, trying your best to give giselle an upset frown though your wide grin breaks it each time.Â
âokay, okay!â she squeals and bounces on her toes while running back to her bed to grab her phone. âhurry! get ready, iâm gonna text them and let you know youâre finally cominâ outside again.â
you make sure to save your progress and power your mac off while rolling your eyes, âthis better be fun.â
âit isssss! i swear, i promise, for real.â
it takes you almost two and a half hours to get ready. you havenât 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 youâre grabbing your purse, giselle advises you of the awaiting uber outside.
âwonât your cousin, like . . . get in trouble for what sheâs doing?â 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, âownerâs never there. she basically owns it herself, honestly.â
you decide to take her word for it. the bar is named â the grove. â itâs 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.Â
youâre 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.Â
greetings and hugs are shared. you recognize the two of them â 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 youâd 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. âwhatâs gonna be your drink of choice today, hm?â lana rubs her shoulder against yours, giving you a smirk while tapping her nail against her own glass. âiâve got a manhattan.â
timidly, you shrug, eyes scanning the laminated menu a few inches away from you. âuh . . pina colada?â
immediately, an accord of giggles are heard. your responding pout is precious, âcan yâall not?â
âno, no â nana,â giselle waves a woman over to where you all sit. you take it that sheâs her cousin, the two of them share a few features, although slight. giselle introduces you to her prior to stating, âfour shots of casa, an amf, and pina colada, pretty please?â
âmm, all for you?â teasingly, nana lifts an eyebrow while reaching for four shot glasses under the counter. giselleâs previous bambi eyed expression levels out in order for a more smug to soon replace it, âwell, duh, of course!â sheâs snickering when you nudge her calf with a foot. âugh, for all of us, nana. donât be like that.â
âmhm. sure, sure.â
it takes about an hour for you to get it â 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. itâs a nice place to be and get away without worrying about real lifeâs problems. the four of you girls busy yourselves with the latest campus gossip, about which professors were pissing you off the most and which youâd sleep with if boiled down to you needing some extra credit near the end of the semesterâ 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.
heâs seated on the left, at the â curve â 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 heâs saying while picking through a small basket of french fries. heâs . . beautiful, you find. a certain mystic charm that surrounds the air of where he sits â 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 acquaintanceâs 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 âcause . . . fuck . . why does he look so familiar?
â. . . ( â€ïž )?â
vaguely, within the far pocket of your mind, you hear giselle calling your name.
the guy smiles â its a big one, reveals almost all thirty two of his teeth as it pushes smile lines and dimples into his cheeks.Â
â. . eren?â
your feet is moving before youâre able to process it. you stumble on the first few steps, feet needing to slow down with your mind, before youâre flipping back the curls of your sew in and righting your posture.Â
giselle groans, âoh my god, this girl is drunk. watch my purse â ( â€ïž )!â
âeren?â
two heads turn when they hear his name. youâre only able to catch a blur bordered glance of his friend before your focused is directed towards him. god, you feel as though youâre twelve all over again. youâd thought that he couldnât 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 â 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.Â
ânah, no fuckinâ way,â 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. â( â€ïž ), what the fuck, man?â
you giggle, unable to contain your excitement, âeren, oh my gosh.â
âwhat the fââ he pulls away to hold you at armâs 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, âwhat you doinâ here, lil girl?â
youâre aware of giselle behind you when she touches your waist, âoh, âm here with mâfriends from school. this is giselle.â
giving a polite smile, giselle leans in to shake erenâs hand, âhi, sorry. i thought she was walking up to some random âcause,â 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, âsomeone here drunk a little bit too much,â after, she hums, âi didnât know you guys knew each other.â
âoh, yeah,â erenâs eyes are fixed directly upon your own. âwe go way back.â
you flush. you simply canât help it â how can one human being appear so captivating? âmhm,â 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, âi knew eren when he was in high school, giâ . . . and i was a, hic â, a tiny, baby ( â€ïž ).â
giselle smirks, finding you all too cute, âis that right?â
âmhm.â
she turns to eren, âso, i take it you guys wanna,â a finger is waved between you both. âcatch up? talk a bit?â
eren drawls a low, âof course, of course,â while smiling. â âm gonna get some water in her. âve never seen her like this before.â
âima be watching,â cutting her eyes, giselle gives eren a quick examine. âiâll be back to get her soon.â
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 heâd been occupying, âokay, okay,â he murmurs, reaching for the glass of water beside the basket of fries. âyou good? you feel okay?â
you sip from his straw, grateful for the cool liquid, âmhm,â you hum quietly. âgi says âm a lightweight.â
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 erenâs 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 heâs pretty, too. your nerves ignite at the ends, as if sparked by a match. suddenly, youâre hyperaware of everything you do â 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, âsorry,â you canât help but murmur.Â
ânah, you good, ma.â
quickly cognizant of never having introduced the two of you, eren softly says, âshit, sorry. ( â€ïž ), this is . . this is ony. ony, this ( â€ïž ).â
timidly, you give a small, nonetheless warm smile and hold a hand out, ânice to meet you.â
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, âlikewise. itâs a pleasure.â
when you pull away, you reach for the glass of water again â wrap your lips around the straw and gather enough of it inside your mouth to make your cheeks bulge, prior to swallowing.
âso, why you out here, hm?â eren leans the side of his body against the counter once more. âyour parents know you out in a bar? thereâs no way youâre twenty one yet, i know that for a fact.â
you give a weak shove to his bicep. call it a cheap shot, whatever. you arenât surprised to find that just as the rest of him had grew, his muscles have bulked up, too. âdonât be a snitch, eren,â you sniffle and shake your head. â âm . . âm nineteen. âm grown.â
his eyebrows lift, âoh, you grown?â
âiâm grown.â
pushing his tongue against the lush warmth of his cheek, eren smirks before slowly nodding, âokay. alright.â he grabs the basket of fries with two fingers hooked and slides them in a beeline til they were in front of you, âbet yâlil ass didnât even eat today before you came here,â he mumbles underneath his breath. âeat. you canât tell me no.â
you werenât planning to. you take a few between your fingers and bite into them, â. . iâve missed you,â the confession is grumped through a mean pout as you slowly chew. âyou disappeared on me a-after graduation.â
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, â âve missed you too . . iâm sorry about all that.â
âyou hurt âteoâs feelings, too,â 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. âhe acts like he doesnât care, but i know he does. you were like, one of his only friends.â
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, âiâm sorry . . really. i didnât mean to . . ghost all of you like that. it was fucked up.â
âit was,â you nod in agreement. âwasnât nice, eren.â
âmhm,â quietly, he admires you. âi know. was gonna pop over one day and surprise you guys, but,â he sucks some air in between his teeth and rubs at the diamond stud that pierces through the skin of his earlobe. âgot scared, you know?â
âmm, yeah?â you tilt your head when you look up at him.Â
and wonât you look at that . . .
eren decides this is the moment where he realizes you arenât 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 youâd might as well have came out the house in a belt â because this is his former best friendâs baby sister.
heâs watched you grow up just as you did him.Â
in the years knowing you before, heâs never looked at you as nothing more than mateoâs sister. heâd 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.
youâve gotten those pretty tits played with before, maybe. by some insolent boy in grade eleven, in the back of his dadâs old pick up at a drive in movie theater. youâve kissed and tasted and felt and yearned.
nonetheless of eren knowing this, he still canât shake the feeling of wrongness that versos each of these thoughts.Â
making himself look away, he licks his lips and grabs hold of the glass of water to take his own sip, âyou donât think i should?â
you smile â pretty ass smile.Â
god, how puberty fucking blessed you.Â
âno, no, i think you should,â you hum. âitâll make us all happy â hey, whyâd you come here, anyway?â
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 heâd rather you be sober for any more heavy topics within your conversation. âwork on tattoos. perfect my craft. build clientele. angelcrest was,â as if he could feel the weight of the town on his shoulders, eren flexes his shoulders and clears his throat. âstifling.â
again, you nod, âmhm, i get it. thatâs why i had to leave â tattoos!â suddenly, you notice them. on his hands, fingers, knuckles, thereâs a peek of ink coiling up the back of his neck.Â
your eyes are round with fascination as you reach for his hand before flinching back. âcan i . . â wait, permission,â you are suddenly reminded by your mother, â donât touch anyone without their consent first. â you blush. of all days, of all times. âcan i touch?â
eren grins. oh, youâre fucking adorable. âyeah, go ahead.â
silently, ony watches the two of you interact.
if he decides to be completely honest with himself . . itâs cute.
akin to a tiny, diffident lamb and an attentive, keen wolf â 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.Â
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.Â
itâs somewhat comical due to the fact that eren isnât being the slightest bit subtle neither. his eyes seem to tremble when they look into yours â itâs as though heâs 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.Â
you both are train wrecks, nevertheless, ony canât tear his sight elsewhere.
âshit, i know that university . . i live about twenty minutes away.â
youâre tilting your head again â in that same endearing manner you did before and ony watches the limbs of erenâs fingers grit, hitherto him shoving the fist into his coatâs pocket. âreally?â your voice pitches an octave higher, coated with sweet wonder. âbeen thinkinâ about you all this time and youâve only been twenty minutes away?â
eren shakes his head with a smirk, diverting his eyes to a crumpled, coffee shopâs receipt he tugs out from his jeansâ pocket and soon, a lone pen he finds laying beside the menu. âhere.â swiftly, he jots down his number on the backside of the slip. âsave it, hm? call me whenever you need me.â
always impeccable with her timing, giselle makes herself known after the receipt is folded and tucked safely into the waistband of your skirt. âokay,â you smile and turn towards ony. âit was so n-, hicâ, nice to meet you . . ony. bye-bye guys.â
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 âi know, i knowâs to your muddled giggles and faint babbling as you walk away.Â
â. . . mm,â 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 canât help but ask, âyâall go way back, huh?â
facetiously, eren gives a long groan and ducks his head, âbro, donât gimme that shit.â
ony chuckles, ânah, nah. sheâs cute, jaeger. yâall used to be friends?â
with a slow shrug, eren dwells on that word, â. . not really â i donât fuckinâ 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 didnât really talk much, me and her, but we was cool.â
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, âi think lil ma has a crush.â
eren shakes his head. âshut the fuck up, oâ.â
â â  â â  â â  â â  â€ïž
the worst day of your short lived, admittedly average life is on a thursday, two weeks after.
erenâs face might as well have been pressed and developed into film and looped on a projector within your brain â you canât 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, âno, no. did i say that, really? please, gi, donât tell me i said that.â as she went on to describe your behavior.
you suppose itâs 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 wouldnât have approached eren at that bar, never in a million years. youâd have convinced yourself it wasnât 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 heâd 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. itâs currently three oâ eight am, you have to be up for class in approximately four hours. giselleâs soft snores normally are a comforting white noise, though tonight, you simply canât 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.
erenâs phone number is soon typed into the search bar and without glancing twice at the username, you click upon the top result.
â jaeinkz â
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.Â
âoh, wow,â canât help but slip faintly from your lips as you push the satin fabric of your bonnet higher up your forehead, itâs as if you thought it had been obstructing your vision . . . making you perhaps see things that werenât there, however, no, itâs true. erenâs 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 â @.mininkz @.mikakolors @.sashart â 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 â 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.
â incredible â â best artist out rs bro â â u killed dis shit E â â every time i think u canât get any better u prove me wrong â
you find yourself smiling at the comments â why? youâre not too sure of the answer. maybe itâs because youâre simply proud. you were always sure that eren would have gone on to accomplish his dreams, frankly, you just werenât positive that youâd ever be able to visually see it, albeit . . . here you are. itâs remarkable to witness.
itâs when you go to click on the post of a specific side rib piece when abruptly, the universityâs inbuilt fire alarm bellows out. it makes your entire body lurch as giselle gasps herself awake.
âwhat the fuck?â
the continuous shriek of the siren bores uncomfortably into the drums of your ears and itâs when youâre slowly standing to gauge what was going on, comes the sound of doors opening and sleepy, discombobulated mumbling. itâs only right that the incessant, scarlet flashing of a firetruckâs emergency signal fulgurating in past your curtains follows suit.
âplease exit the dorm! we need all students to exit the dorms as quick and calmly as possible!â
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 youâre 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.Â
âjust breathe, babe, yeah? i bet itâs something stupid. s-someone pressing their hair or something.â
you loathe it â 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 youâre 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.
âgotta call,â youâre mumbling as your hand knots within the fabric of giselleâs nightshirt as she leads you down the flight of stairs within the fire escape. âparents. my parents. my parents.â 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.
âsee â look it,â giselleâs rubbing your shoulders when you both are standing on the curving curb outside. itâs cold tonight â a frigid forty degrees. all youâd 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. âjusâ breathe. in through your nose â hold it. mhm, good. now out, slow. see?â
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, itâs not a question as to why.Â
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 . . . youâre tired.Â
youâre so tired.
and somewhere near that inky, somber place enclosed by the bounds of your mind, you know that you shouldnât do what youâre 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, âhello?â
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, âeren . . h-hi, âs . . itâs ( â€ïž ).â
susurration is heard. you assume heâs laying down within his bed, much like half of the worldâs population is at this time, however, when he speaks once more, his voice is a bit more clear, as if heâd sat up to better hear you, âmm, yeah? hi, mama. whaâs goinâ on?â
your head swivels upon your shoulders in order for you to observe your surroundings â 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 helicopterâs 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. youâre sure youâre being a crybaby, too sensitive, a wuss, nonetheless, youâre unable to help it, âi donât k-know what to do, m-my dorms on fire, my parents live two hours out a-and i donât have a car. âteoâs on the . . the other side of the country, i h-had no one else to call.â the speed of which your words fly out are akin to a mile a minute. erenâs only able to discern the words of dorm and fire and he finds himself moving before he knows it.
âima be there.â
you hadnât expected eren to actually come to your university and pick you up â not for a moment.Â
you catch eye of a pristine, space grey bmw m4 cruising around the curved entryway as you sit upon the trunk of giselleâs 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 driverâs door swing open.
when he steps out, reminiscent of that night at the bar, your heart begins to pound.Â
âawe, mama.â
he wears a pair of black sweats, thick black socks, and nike slides. the jacket he dons is a zip up. itâs clear he must have hurried on over due to the fact that he does not wear a shirt underneath it. itâs 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.
âmm, âm so sorry,â he mumbles, comfortingly beginning a leaden rock on your feet from side to side. â âm sorry.â
his hugs are nice . . . theyâre 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. itâs as though heâs 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 youâve been needing.Â
âyouâre okay, yeah?â he makes you look up at him â lets you go, tilts your head up by the chin. âyâall both okay?â his eyes quickly glance towards giselle and waits until the both of you nod.
âsaid it was the cause of a candle,â she explains, leaning an elbow on the trunk. âgot knocked over, caught on a curtain â rest is history. nobody died, donât worry.â
eren huffs a breath, rubbing a hand over his head thatâs sheathed by his jacketâs hood. âmy god. scared the fuck outta me man.â
âyou didnât,â you swallow and inhale a thin, shuddering breath. âyou didnât h-have to come pick me up, eren.â
heâs moving â stepping around you, grabbing your pink, hard cased, hello kitty printed suitcases and rolling them to his trunk. âwas gonna ask to stay with me, yeah?â his voice still holds the tenors of sleep . . it makes his baritone much richer and gruff as opposed to usual.
âonly for the night, eren. i-if thatâd be okayââ
blithely, heâs lifting a shoulder them dropping it while hoisting the door of his trunk open and sliding one suitcase in at a time. âfuck that. when is the dorm being rebuilt?â
giselle hastily answers, âfire only reached the top three floors. heard the dean say itâs gonna take them at least a month or two.â
the trunk is closed with a slam, after which heâs giving you a small smirk while taking your duffel, âyouâre stayinâ with me until itâs done then. easy commute, comfy bed . . i cook sometimes.â
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. heâs already made up his mind. âgiselle, you . .â 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.
âthanks for the offer. my mom lives like forty minutes away, âm jus gonna stay with her âtil all this blows over.â
he lets the two of you say your goodbyes while settling your backpack and duffles in the backseat. âmm, be good, yeah?â your friend squeezes you tight with a kiss to the crown of your head. âgo get some rest and call me when you wake up.â
when youâre settled within the passenger seat of erenâs car, you arenât 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 â it swathes and comforts you in the best way possible. âyou okay?â heâs asking quietly, strong hand pushing the gear shift into drive as his other wraps around the bottom of the wheel. heâd already asked the question before, albeit . . he wants to be sure.Â
sluggishly, your head goes to lean against the window. you appear so small to eren in that moment â swallowed by your hoodie, arms wrapped around yourself, and body curled. your mumble is meek as you retort, â âm okay.â
aside from the low volume of brent faiyazâs 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 donât have to worry about much. your mind falls to a mute when heâs around â 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.
itâs as though he takes over the reigns. he doesnât allow you to carry your own bags, no, âheâs got it.â asks you twice if youâd like something to eat from the bakery provided within his apartmentâs lobby as he walks you through past security and a doorkeeper. heâs making sure you stay close beside him after youâre 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 erenâs home, you find that itâs clean . . similar to his car, itâs almost unnaturally so.Â
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 âmochaâ jordan ones. the juxtaposition of the two of them next to one another feels strangely satisfying, as if thatâs where theyâre made to be.Â
round with wonder, your eyes scan every inch of his place when youâre able to walk further inside soon after.
his living room is first you see when exiting the corridor. itâs massive â sits in front of his open spaced kitchen, completed with a long, wide âLâ 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 â 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, â. . you have little fishies.â
eren scoffs a small chuckle behind you as he places your bags beside the settee, âi do.â
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.
âmm, yeah, these are my babies,â eren lowers his face a few inches away from yours to gaze fondly at them, too. â âm too busy for a cat or dog right now. these were my next choice,â he points to a particularly bored looking cherry garb. âthatâs jerry,â then that excited tertra. ârick. the angelfish youâre touchinâ is morty. summer and beth are over there . . . then you got, teddy . . bob . . and there goes gene.â
it takes a moment for you to familiarize yourself with the names. âwait,â a slow smile starts to spread across your lips come the realization. âseriously, eren?â
his eyes glint with boyish glee as he straightens back upright, âlemme show you to the room.â
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. âyou let me know if you need anything, yeah?â
itâs far bigger than youâd expected â 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. itâs 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, â. . i appreciate this. iâm sorry, again.â
ânah, nah. no,â 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 jacketâs pocket. âno need to apologize. i donât mind you beinâ here . . . okay?â 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. âi seriously donât. so, donât think youâre intrudinâ on me or anythinâ. no more sorries.â
â. . no more sorries.â
what a sweet thing you are. eren constricts the doorknob within a sweating fist. âyou gotta get some sleep.â
right.
heâs right. your exhaustion weighs down your eyelids â makes you stare at him with hazy debility waxed over normally wide, attentive irises. âmkay.â 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. âgnight, eren.â
youâre precious.Â
âgnight, mama.â
â â  â â  â â  â â  â€ïž
minutes drag into hours â 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 heâd hugged you â frail and weak. a girl like you shouldnât 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. youâve only just entered his life again, eren doesnât think heâs 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. heâs 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.Â
itâs while heâs snatching a bottle of water from his fridge when the doorbell buzzes.Â
â. . fuckinâ ony.â
thereâs 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. âyou missed me?â a bright, handsome smile is expanded across two, thick, double hued lips as he walks inside and kicks off his new balances.
âi didnât,â 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. âi really fuckinâ didnât.â
âyeah, yeah. shut that shit up,â he plops down beside eren on a cushion, naturally letting his legs fall far apart to work himself into a comfortable position. âgiants game is on. you cook?â
shaking his head, eren nibbles on the soft skin of his bottom lip, âordered food.â
ony spares a look beside the door of which he entered from, catching eye of the crocs, radiant and pink â jibbitz of hearts, stars, bows, and hello kitty characters popped into almost every hole â sitting beside his shoes. theyâre a blaring mar, starkly standing out against erenâs black, brown, and olive decor. â. . . who you got over here?â
âhm?ââ
delicate footsteps are heard padding onyâs way. his head swivels on his shoulders . . and there you stand.Â
you rub an eye with a fist, lips parted around a wide yawn, bonnet askew, hoodie practically sliding off of your shoulder. âoh,â sparkling eyes of fawn catch onyâs then youâre quickly pulling it back into place. âsorry.â they snap to erenâs and both men watch you take a hesitant step back, as if you were unsure you were allowed to come any closer.Â
âno, noââ
ââyou good, you good.â
without thinking, the two of them separate to leave the middle cushion open. âcâmere,â eren finds himself a bit glad to see you up. youâve slept for nearly twelve hours, heâs missed your face. âyou remember ony, yeah?â
you do.
your steps are light as you round the couch.Â
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. âhi, ony,â you give a soft smile and take a slow seat between the two, folding your hands between the warm, plush skin of your own.Â
âhey, maâ,â he licks his lips. âi heard about the fire at your school. that was your dorm?â
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, âuh huh . . yeah, it was mine.âÂ
âdamn, âm sorry,â 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. âyou managed to grab all your stuff though, right?â
âmm, m-most of it,â you scratch at your knee, suddenly nervous. âleft some stuff . . little things, i think iâll be okay.â
erenâs speaking up beside you, âyou call your family?â
âmhm,â you give a nod. âtook them a second to remember you. theyâre happy that youâre lettinâ me stay â told me to tell you that theyâre hoping to see you again.â
heâs smiling, dimples deepening, âyeah?â
at the sight, you canât help but smile, too. âmhm.â
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 â 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 âinterception,â eren shoots out a firm âfumbleâ and all you really hear is the sound of tv static.Â
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.Â
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 â statures looming over your own, even while you all sit. youâre 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 whoâs wanted more, whoâs learned to grab a handful when offered an open chance, youâre 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 â strictly surface level. youâre enamored with their features, youâre sure plenty would agree, because as much as you think you know eren, you donât. heâs older now, heâs changed, heâs morphed, and heâs matured.Â
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 onyâs arm slipping around erenâs waist once he stood and steps past you both to open the door at the sound of a knock.Â
âhungry, mama?â
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, â. . . burritos?âÂ
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. âthank you so much.âÂ
you havenât ate in over a day, your stomach gives an aggravated growl at the trivial realization. itâs endearing, watching how wide you have to open your little mouth to take a bite of it. âcâmere, youâre gonna dislocate your jaw,â 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. âhm.â he gives you one.
âthank you.âÂ
youâre biting into it quite easier now, sinking your teeth into tender meats and a warm, flour tortilla. âtastes good?â 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. âwant some of ours?â
youâre hesitant, glancing between it and onyâs quesadillas.Â
âwhy you shy for?â the latter asks quietly, head tilting to follow your eyes when you look away. âhm.â
he holds it out and â candidly, you just canât help it â you lean it to take a small bite . . humming a soft, âhmmm.â at the savory taste of carne asada. a fork of erenâs 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, âmessy thing.âÂ
âboth are yummy,â you comment before holding your burrito up to erenâs lips. âhm . . bite.â
âdietinâ, mama. âs why i got a salad.â
you canât help but pout at the rejection for your burrito. how bad it must feel. naturally, you turn it to ony. âbite.â
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. âoh wow,â youâre giggling, taking in how slow he chews.Â
eren scoffs, rolling his eyes, âfuckinâ greedy ass. you regret that now, hm?â
âshut the fuck up, jaeger,â he turns his attention to you. âshitâs torch. thank you, maâ.â
âmhm,â 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, âyouâve never told us your major.â
â âs communications.â
both men drag out loud, exaggerated â oh! âs, clearly impressed. silly. a sheet of warmth flourishes across your cheeks, beginning first at the rounded tip of your nose. âstop it,â you whine, simpering at their puerility.Â
âwhat are you doinâ after?â eren murmurs around a mouthful of greens. âdo you know?â
you give a feeble shrug, toying with the foil that surrounds your burrito, âsomethinâ in marketing and advertising, most likely. or social media managing. i really like both.â
âfor real?â
you give one, firm nod, âmhm.â
âdoes this mean youâre like,â eren tilts his head. âig famous or some shit?â
his question makes you laugh. âno, no, âm not . . i mean, i have a decent amount â not as much as you.â you regret the words almost as soon as they tumble from the plump hills of your lips. eren had never given you his instagram â that, you all know.Â
ony smiles, chewing slowly while sharing a knowing glance with him. eren discerns what shines within his irises, can practically hear him â âwhat i say.â âso, now you know we got ourselves a superstar on our hands.â
rolling his eyes, eren swivels on his heels to walk towards the pantry, evidently trying to dodge the topic, âhere we go with this shit. iâm not, ( â€ïž ), donât listen to the bullshitââ
âânah, nah. sheâs seen it. she knows. erenâs a fuckinâ diva.â
âyou get on my fuckinâ nerves.â
you twist your stool from left to right, interest piqued. âoh yeah?â
ony gives you a casual wink, jutting his thumb erenâs way while shaking his head and muttering, âi jus like fuckinâ witâ him.â
two wine glasses and a mug are sat upon the middle of the island, âwe donât need you drunk tonight,â 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. âplus . .â he gives a bland shrug, eyebrows quirking. âyouâre underaged.â
âyouâre no fun.â
âmm, yeah, i know.â
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 onyâs hand. itâs a face . . . you arenât sure of whose. it isnât realistic, no, it resembles a michelangelo sculpture â completed with an expression seized over with melancholy, eyes void of irises and pupils, meticulously coiled hair, and a firm, lineal nose. â. . can i touch?â you reach for it, hesitatingly, noting onyâs slight surprise.Â
âfor sure.â
tenderly, you stroke your thumb along the faceâs cheek, enamored by the realism of it all. itâd appeared that he had a true sculpture embedded within the skin of his hand. âwhose face is this?â you softly inquire. â âs a greek god, yeah?â
âmhm,â he curls his fingers into a fist and you watch the tendons and bones underneath his skin flex as it moves, seemingly changing expressions. âeros.â
âdid eren do it?â
once more, ony nods, âshitâs clean, mm?â
youâre amazed, smiling while trying to make his fingers curl and relax to get the face to move once more, âi love it â so pretty.â
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. heâs 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.Â
heâs sure you arenât aware of the sheer amount of power you hold within your hands come later into the night.Â
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, theyâre aware that you graduated valedictorian of your class, but whoâs that guy that took you to prom? just a friend? oh. are you both still in contact? okay, nice. when did you meet giselle? youâre a bit of a shy girl, she approached you first, yeah? they knew it. you really like burritos, why? . . hm, okay. thatâs 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 â ones theyâre sure youâd 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 â what made you so pretty? they have to know. why do you make erenâs 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 heâs really only known you for a measly four hours?
when his phone begins to buzz, it catches the attention of all three of you.
â. . shit, i gotta go,â 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 âconnieâ for eren to nod.Â
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 â it has to be a significant other, surely. tenderly, you pout, watching him slip his feet into his shoes and shrug into his coat. âalright, ima hit you later,â 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 brunetâs shoulder. âyou be good, alright?â he gives you a knowing nod, waiting until you return it. âmhm. you promise?â
within your arms is a throw pillow â 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, âi promise, ony.â
â â  â â  â â  â â  â€ïž
living with eren comes to be more cozy and pleasant than youâd initially thought.
you hadnât expected him to be so welcoming, nevertheless, he is. each morning, around seven to eight am, youâre surprised to find him up, dressed, and ready to get the day started. he makes you breakfast everyday, too â meals range from cute pancakes in misshapen forms of stars, mickey mouse's head contour, and your favorite sanrio character, to a simple açaĂ 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.Â
there are also mornings where youâd exit the bedroom, disoriented and still blurry eyed to find ony standing right beside him â 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 youâre sure eren notices. when the sun shines in through his large windows, finding only the two of you, youâre asking shy, curious questions about his occupation, his mom, his other friends ( youâve managed to learn all of their names â mikasa, armin, sasha, and connie ).Â
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.Â
erenâs . . . different with ony as opposed to how he is, or should you say was, with mateo. and incipiently, youâd thought of yourself as being too nosy, drawing up conclusions and speculations that werenât even there, especially doing so without enough concrete substantiation. of course heâd be different with a friend as opposed to when he was sixteen in high school and now, a grown man.Â
he and ony do not play video games as much as he and mateo did. they donât 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 youâre positive that many other people with close friends do the same, nonetheless, itâs more in how the two of them do it. they donât sit on opposite sides of the settee when smoking or watching a game, no, they are always close â close enough to have their thighs touch, their knees brush against each otherâs as they leisurely sway in and out and the two of them swoop lower and lower within their bounden highs. while they cook together, onyâs hand is on erenâs 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, youâre certain of it.
come week eight of you staying with eren, you arenât sure how to feel.
youâre confused, emotions tied and bundled up into one, great, big ball of horrible mush. you like eren â 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. youâre 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, youâre more trusting due to him being erenâs closest friend of over five years, regardless, if the two of you were to meet on your own separate terms, youâre sure heâd 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, youâve studied for it all week, and youâre 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 canât sleep. whether due to your rushing thoughts or the faint, eerie sounds slipping in through underneath the crack of your closed door, you donât know.Â
tilting your head downwards, you stare at the doorknob for a moment â 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.Â
your hand slips underneath a pillow so that youâre able to grab hold of your phone and inspect the time â twelve oâ two.Â
you suppose you might as well go and pursue the source of such â what if itâs eren? hurt or in pain? an intruder? naturally, you hope for the former. youâve never even killed an ant on your own, you doubt youâd be able to take on a human being.Â
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 erenâs room with your eyes . . his door is only about four steps away. since youâve been staying with him, he leaves it half opened, and from the inside of it, light pours into the corridor against a single wall.Â
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 â of his and onyankoponâs.
you canât see much â erenâs king sized bedâs 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 â sinewy muscle rippling within the stoutness of it as one tatted arm flexes, rising up then down between their bodies.Â
the both of them are mostly quiet â whispers and mumbles incomprehensible. itâs the volume of their baritones what youâd heard . . both of them terribly deep. they echo off of the four walls, rumble throughout erenâs apartment, drip down masonry and plaster, slow and thick.Â
erenâs tone veers along the edge of a whine, when he utters, âfuck, âyan . . s-shit.â
your heart pounds within your chest come the realization of your suspicions being proven true.Â
âcâmon, paâ, gimmie that nut,â ony mumbles, working his fist more swiftly, direly. âfuckinâ pretty ass.â
a horrible feeling overcomes the expanse of your chest. itâs one youâve never experienced â 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.Â
â â  â â  â â  â â  â€ïž
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 canât help but feel angry at yourself, reasons as to why still unclear. you wish youâd have just stayed in bed, ignored the sounds, forced yourself to go to sleep. in doing that, your eyes wouldnât be almost swollen shut and head wouldnât be pounding as though someone had been beating it with a hammer an hour straight. youâre aware that you would still be in the blind, you know, but . . at least your heart wouldnât hurt as much.
hurrying out of the room, youâre 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. youâre already mentally preparing yourself for the energy youâre going to need to plead your case to your professor in efforts to get a small extensionâ
 ââ( â€ïž )?â
donât stop. donât look.
â. . mm, yeah?â
your eyes are locked upon the door. youâre only about eight steps away, it isnât much.
âhey, hey, hold on.â
onyankoponâs legs are longer than yours. heâs 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. heâs smiling, though it goes a bit fraught at the edges when he views your appearance.
â. . whatâs wrong?â he gently asks.
it isnât the lack of blush, faux lashes, and glitter adorning your face that has him concerned, itâs the heavy bags underneath your eyes, the coating of puffiness that surrounds them. usually, youâre dressed in darling two piece sets, a cute skirt and top, hair pulled up into sweet pigtails or even pinned back with bows . . . today, youâre donning all black â leggings, hoodie, and ugg boots . . . box braids pulled back into a simple, low pony. somethingâs wrong. both he and eren can see.
ânothing.â
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. âwhat happened?â he asks. ânot hungry today, mama?â
your nails dig into the fleshy part of your palm. you hear the pitch of his voice â more quiet, whimpering . . you hear onyâs â tender, sodden in raw infatuation. âno,â you shake your head. your next inhale is shaky and your eyes begin to prick with a familiar sting. âi g-gotta go. âm late. sorry.â quickly, you scuttle around them to hustle through the foyer, unlock the door, and part.Â
for a moment, erenâs 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 doesnât take much for ony to decipher why youâre 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, âi think she saw us last night.â
erenâs quiet for a moment.Â
nah . . . impossible.
. . . did you?Â
rubbing a hand across his jaw, he pauses, letting the words marinate, â. . nah,â he murmurs. ânah. thatâs crazyââ
ââshe did.â
âno.â
âiâm telling you, bro,â onyankoponâs eyes are firm. âshe did.â
before you went to bed last night, you and eren were fine. you ate dinner together, introduced him to one of your favorite shows â 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.Â
he doesnât think he was loud when leaving his room an hour later to let ony inside, doesnât think neither of them made too much noise when that happened again â something thatâs occurred only once before . . months before you found your way back inside of erenâs life for a second time.
then again, they did leave the door open.
â. . shit,â eren breathes out the word through a low groan, falling into a stool at the island beside him. âshe didnât seem mad, though. no?â
onyankopon shakes his head, ânot mad . . more . . sad, i think.â
sad. that is true. your face did appear swollen and veneered over with gloom before you left. the two explanations as to why youâd be upset are evident â the first is simply you being bigoted. both he and onyankopon know that you arenât that at all, not in any shape or form, so thatâs ruled out immediately. erenâs only seen you cry once before today â when you were younger and found out your friends had gone to the movies and mall without you. youâre 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. âi gotta head out,â he says, tipping his head back with a glass canted at his lips to swill down the rest of his orange juice. â. . ima catch you later.â
âfor sure.â
both men hesitate. when ony stands, heâs hit with the sudden urge to lean in and press a delicate kiss against the warm pads of erenâs 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 â sucking in a deep inhale before nodding. â. . âm out.â
â â  â â  â â  â â  â€ïž
funnily enough, you vex onyankoponâs 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 â inspecting the lot where near almost fifteen cars are parked and being worked on throughout, clipboard in hand to document progress, connieâs 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 â 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 âgood job, mamaâ or â âm proud of you.â youâre absolutely smitten.
he guesses he should feel a bit jealous, too . . or maybe, possessive.Â
his and erenâs relationship has no other word to describe it aside from âcomplicated.â to the world, more specifically their other friends, theyâre 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 doesnât feel the slightest bit upset that you may adore eren as much as he does. heâs easy to cherish.Â
he feels a tender pity for you, at most. doubtlessly, he knows that youâre confused, sullen, heartbroken, and he finds it impossible to carry on his day, knowing youâre probably wishing you hadnât got out of bed this morning.Â
â 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. heâs honestly astounded when you reply back.
â got ten more minutes. why? â bout to come scoop u. drop lo.
it takes you nearly five minutes to go ahead and do so. youâre probably overthinking yourself into another batch of tears. ony sighs at the simple thought, âthis lil girl, man.â
youâre 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 seatâs open door. you stay firm, â. . did eren send you? i couldâve jusâ took an uber again, i donât mindââ
âânah,â ony takes hold of one of the shoulder straps to your backpack to carry it. âhe didnât. câmon.â
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, youâre quiet while ony drives. youâre almost always quiet around him and heâll be honest, it makes him feel a certain way when eren ends up telling him about a funny thing you said, how youâre possibly one of the most interesting people heâs ever known, and realizing you obviously donât feel comfortable being that same way around him.Â
onyankopon gets it though. heâs not much of a talker neither, and heâs aware of how frustrating it is to have someone continuously try to poke and prod to get you to. heâll simply just have to wait for you, no matter how long it takes.
â. . ice cream?â
pulling into a parking space right in front of â candyâs ice cream parlor â 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. â âs yummy.â
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. âyou sure you donât want nothinâ else?âÂ
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, âthank you for this,â you hum. âi appreciate it, ony.â 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, âfelt like you needed it,â the tone of his voice mellows when he continues, âyâseemed a lilâ . . upset earlier.â
he takes heed in how quickly you look away from him â your body shifts and your jaw tenses. âmm, yeah. it was over something . . something s-stupid.â
ony had wanted you to tell him on your own, but, when the open chance comes . . introduces itself so glaringly, well, he just canât help it. artificial curiosity douses the bass of his voice as he asks, â âcause of school?â
â. . . no, not really.â
âwhat? family?â
ânuh uh.â
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 parlorâs inbuilt ceiling speakers. you canât tell him. you donât 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.Â
you watch him inhale a breath, irises casted downwards as he shifts and adjusts the carhartt beanie upon his head, â. . ima be honest, maâ, alright?â 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 â 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. âi think youâre beautiful.â
the curveball is thrown. subtly, your lips part in fair of your awe.Â
and he shrugs, as if what heâd told you had been a simple fun fact. âi think youâre smart as shit. youâre kind. youâre sweet. iâd fuckinâ 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,â his finger taps idly upon the table as he pauses for a moment. â. . i know you have questions . . about some shit . . â shit that i genuinely canât explain.â perspicacity â it glimmers within the ponds of his eyes and within a fraction of a second, you know that he knows. âeren cares about you, a lot. more than i think either of you know.â and with that, he stands, signaling you to do the same. âlemme get youâon home.â
â â  â â  â â  â â  â€ïž
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 havenât came back out. it drives him insane, you drive him insane. he finds himself pacing come the next morning, having realized you havenât ate in over fourteen hours. âfuck,â 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 onyankoponâs 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.Â
âsheâs fuckinâ mad at me,â he mutters. ony sits upon the couch â having slept over again, heâs dressed in only a pair of sweat shorts and socks. and itâs 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.
âshe not.â
âshe fuckinâ is, man.â
smacking his lips, onyankopon stands, âshe cool, eren. really . . jusâ give her some time, paââ
neither men hear your footsteps until youâre 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.Â
â. . . ( â€ïž )ââ
ââwhere are you going?â
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, youâre aware that youâre in erenâs 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, âout.â
ony inspects your outfit â itâs 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. heâs tempted to bolt lock the door, tempted to go out and gauge out every personâs eyes who gives you a sheer glance.Â
before he can ask, âwhere?â erenâs beating him to it. no longer does desolation grace the handsome features of his face â his arms are folded, eyes intense and focused directly upon yours. itâs 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. itâs a clear motion conveying âwhy do you care?â âjusâ . . out. âm going to giselleâs to finish gettinâ ready. iâll be back tomorrowââ
ââtomorrow?â
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 youâre turning back towards the door, âsheâs already here, iâm leaving. bye.â
when it slams closed, onyankoponâs attention is focused directly back onto eren, awaiting the next move. heâs 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, â. . . i need my fuckinâ bong.â youâre going to drive him up a fucking wall.Â
he walks into his bedroom, practically snatches it from the cabinet of his nightstand, and packs the bowl until it almost overfills. âso, we jusâ gon let herââ
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 bongâs water chamber as eren pulls a cloud of the drug into his lungs through his mouth. âââm not about to think abt that shit, âyan,â he intercepts, voice wavering on strained as he holds the smoke within his chest for a second longer. âi donât care.â
he cares. he cares a whole fucking lot. what the fuck could you possibly have planned that youâre not going to make it home until tomorrow? why the fuck does he even care? he doesnât know, canât figure it out. âi donât care.â
scoffing a âyeah, okay,â onyankopon rips the bong from his grasp to place his lips within the mouthpiece and inhale a long drag. âyou repeated yourself.â
â. . .â furrowing his brows, eren lets his head fall against the back of the sofa. âwhat?â
âyou said âi donât careâ twice,â 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. âlets me know that you care.â
âfuck you.â
âmmm.â
eren tries to get you out of his mind. he does â desperately. he smokes, he naps, wakes up, refreshes your instagram in hopes that youâd 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 heâs 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, âshe put herself on private,â he utters, eyebrows fusing in close until a tiny divot rests between the space of them. âshe fuckinâ removed us and privated her account, man.â
âthis fuckinâ . .â erenâs next inhale is deep. he rubs at his jaw, beginning to pace. youâre clearly wanting to play, wanting to hide. you were aware that they were going to be watching and itâs 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 â flashes of your pretty smile, your sweet giggles, soft hands caressing the plane of someoneâs skin, it flies in and damn near bludgeons his lungs out of his chest. âwhere the fuck could she be?â heâs muttering. youâre not much of a social girl. thatâs more of giselleâs proficiency . . .
âfuckinâ giselle.â
it isnât 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 ( youâre the only girl they know who has cute bows and heart charms glued to your acrylics ), and two other girlsâ holding pink tinted shot glasses with a caption of â donât think club bliss ready 4 us tbh. â âclub bliss,â onyankopon licks his lips, letting the name plummet within the depths of his mind to familiarize himself with it. â. . shitâs downtown, like thirty five minutes away. my nigga JC owns it.â
shrugging, erenâs already making his way down the hall to his bedroom, âcâmon. bout to shower and get dressed. not about to play with this girl no more.â
â â  â â  â â  â â  â€ïž
you make sure you donât 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. âjust bend,â jasmine had managed to acquire the four of you a section of your own within the nightclub. you hadnât known that she and giselle invited more people outside of you guysâ immediate group, nonetheless, about twelve of you in total adorn the divans of your section. âand do it. shake your ass.â
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 whoâs looking, you donât want to think about them. not for a second longer.
though it does still pain you to realize â they are not yours. in all probability, they never will be, and you force yourself to admit that itâs okay. youâll be okay.Â
throwing your plush butt in cadenced circles into the welcoming canvas of giselleâs crotch while she squealed and recorded it all on her phone was a step into the right direction, you think.Â
and in all honesty, you donât know when you realize the rhythmic, encouraging pats on your butt have transitioned into a firm grip around your waist â donât 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. âmm,â youâre mewling and tilting your head rearward when the person bends to tuck their face within the graceful slope of your neck. âwha . .âÂ
âyou showinâ out, ma.â
you smell his cologne, and the top you wear is completely backless â it allows you to feel the algid gold of his chain grazing the bare skin of your spine. â. . ony?â 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 â 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, youâre pushing him away, uttering one word, âno.â
he doesnât seem surprised by your response, not in the slightest. heâs 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 donât know if you appreciate it or not. âony, move, what are youââ youâre already whining and pushing at his chest with feeble, little paws. âm-move, i donât . . donât wanna do this. lemme have fun.â
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. theyâre misty â iced over. youâre tipsy . . definitely fucking tipsy. âhow many times we gotta tell you to stop drinkinâ,â he murmurs, stolidly grabbing your face within one of his hands â thumb on your cheek, four fingers on the other. âyouâre nineteen. donât get fucked up.â
you shove his hand away, pushing at it with the both of yours. â âm grown, how m-many times do i have to tell the both of you that . . . stalker. f-fuckinâ stalker.â
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.Â
onyankopon has the gall to chuckle â 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. âmove,â you hiss, brows linked. âif you donât move, i swearââ
ââwhatchuâ gonâ do?â swiftly, his hand curls around the column of your neck.Â
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 anotherâs. the impassivity of his own is blatant. his eyebrows lift and he leans his face closer down to yours, âsay it,â he softly demands. his fingers flex around your throat and on instinct, your head tilts further up so that youâre able to pull in an easier breath. âwhatchu you gonâ do, mama?â
eren is never too far away from ony . . . you should have known that heâd 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.Â
âugh!â you huff and push onyankoponâs hand from your neck, fighting to elbow your way through them, withal, unsurprised when one of the two holds you right where you are.
âyou drunk?â erenâs tipping your chin up and while at the same instant you ask, âso what?â onyankoponâs muttering a calm, âsheâs tipsy.â
so, youâre tipsy and shaking ass â 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 giselleâs hand to tug her in the direction of the dance floor. he watches you until your body vanishes within a sea of others. âlet her go,â heâs mumbling to onyankopon, falling down onto the sofa and making himself comfortable. âletâer do whatever the fuck she wants. sheâs cominâ back home tonight, though,â tipping a shot back, he then shrugs while gulping it down. âcryinâ or not.â
onyankopon canât help it though.
with each glimpse of you on the dance floor he catches, heâs lured in â 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 â 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 heâs walking over.Â
âfuck no,â heâs scoffing and with enough ease to rival snatching candy from a gluttonous child, heâs 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.
youâre still humming and swaying to the lyrics of veezeâs 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. âony,â youâre groaning when he leans down to kiss the pane of your shoulder â once more, his scent and stature being the dead giveaway. âno, no,â heâs uttering into your ear, tightening his hold on you once more when you attempt to squirm away. âcan let you get away with a lot of shit, ( â€ïž ), but dancinâ on another niggaâs a no go.â
youâre turning to face him when arrives the confession, âyeah?â you canât 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. â âm single though, no?â
onyankopon appreciates the difference between you sober and not. he supposes he gets a closer insight on whatâs going on in your little brain through her. you donât hesitate on your words and shy away in that precious manner heâs gotten used to. â. . . you can call it that.â your hips start to rock, a rhythmic sway from left to right and he follows, pushing your chest closer into his own.
âweâre all single, right?âÂ
when he gazes into your eyes, he sees it . . . you know the truth, youâre awaiting the moment to catch if he lies. licking his lips, onyankopon hesitates, â. . somewhat.â
your head tilts, âwhaâdoes that mean?â
âmeans shit is complicated.â
âbetween who?â
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. â( â€ïž ),â 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, âmama, why you makinâ this so difficult, mm?â
you shove him away.
ony thinks youâre going to pout, huff, scream, however, when he sees the brewing of dew that begins to brim your eyes, his own soften. youâre turning before he can say another word, slipping through the crowd with little âpardon meâs and âsorryâs so that you can enter the section once more, grab your bag from lanaâs hand after saying a quick goodbye and telling her that youâll text, before youâre making your way towards the exit.
both eren and ony are hot on your heels. âhold on, hold on, hold on.â
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 youâre 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. âcan you chill?â erenâs 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. âjusâ . . stop for a minute, alright?â
âeren, just let me leave,â you blub out through a defeated whine. âcan i go?â
a muscle within his jaw ticks, ânot until we have a conversation, no.â
âwhat is there to talk about?â
a pulsing silence follows your words. tension is thick â it extends and swells until the pressure of it broadens into erenâs chest and has him quietly saying, âone conversation then weâll let you leave,â he mumbles. âconversation out of the fucking public, yeah?â
your arms fold and you look away from the both of them as you mull it over. youâre 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. âokay,â you grumble. â. . âm cold.â
âi wonder why,â onyankopon hums, leading you all to the direction of his car thatâs parked on the corner. he opens the door to the backseat, allowing you to climb in first before he slips into the driverâs and eren in the passenger. truthfully, youâre 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.Â
when seated upon the couch within erenâs 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 â a mere snack for you to nibble and sober up on. âhm,â he hands it to you over the back of the couch you currently lay cuddled up on underneath a chunky knitted throw blanket. âwant water, too?â
shaking your head, you begin to unwrap it with nimble fingers, â. . thank you.â
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. âi s-saw . . both . . you two . . c-couple nights ago,â 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. âwasnât spyinâ or anything, thought it was an intruder, uhm . .â those yucky feelings are returning. the ones that make you feel as though you were pathetic, revolting, stupid. âi didnât want . . i donât â . . i h-hope you both arenât upset, i jusâ . . i know i shouldâve jusâ stayed in bed and i shouldnât have felt, mm, be so botheredââ
âma, chill,â erenâs 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. âweâre not upset with you. fuck no.â
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, âyou are, jusâ say itââ
their voices are unified when they say, âweâre not.â
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. âthereâs no need for apologies,â ony plainly says. ânot from you, at least. you good, ight? weâre sorry . . you had to fuckinâ find out like that.â
shaking your head, itâs clear you feel as though their apology is unwarranted, âno. donât haveâta say sorry to me. i s-shouldâve known you guys were in a relationshipââ
erenâs slowly widening smile and onyankoponâs scoff of a chuckle is enough reaction for you to pause and await clarification. were they laughing because they didnât 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.Â
youâre curling away â slowly working yourself back onto the opposite cushion, however, erenâs arm is pulling you back against him, âme and oâ are . .â he hesitates, clenching his jaw, fighting to place what the two of them do into comprehensible terms.Â
âwe fuck sometimes.â
again you sniffle, waiting for one of them to provide more context, â. . platonically?â
they stumble once more, until eren answers, â. . not really.â
â. . . so feelings are involved?ââ
ââthis is why i said this shit is complicated, ma,â onyankopon cuts in. âheâs mine, iâm his.â 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. itâd built over the course of fifteen months until nearly three ago, when it all reached a zenith, onyankoponâs cock ended up buried inside of the grooved, pulsating channel of erenâs throat after a drunken night at a kickback thrown by mikasa.
you donât pretend to understand. âmmm.â you realize thereâs no point. theyâre together, and though your feelings may feel as though theyâve been pummeled and bashed into piteous threads of nothing, you know that this will only be a fleeting emotion. youâre fully prepared to cry until your heartâs content and work on bouncing back to your old self within a few weeksâ 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 erenâs thumb stroking over the bare skin of your hip. âuhm,â suddenly, he seems apprehensive â glistening emeralds of jade snap back and forth between yours, quiet words stuck within his throat. âcan i â . . i have to do somethinâ . .â he mumbles. âalright?â
âokay, yeah,â you softly reply. âwhat is it?â youâre 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, âjusâ close your eyes.â
after a few moments, you timidly comply. thereâs 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, â. . . eren whaââ
youâve been kissed before.
once . . . the night of your prom by your date. itâd been a sloppy thing â heâd blurted out that heâd been crushing on you since the beginning of junior year . . . saw you in your cheer uniform at the football teamâs 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 youâd 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, itâs almost as though he tests the waters . . . gives you sometime to pull away, to push him away if it hadnât been what you expected or wanted.Â
what he doesnât know is that youâve 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 youâve begun to relearn one another â 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 doesnât 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.Â
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 canât 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.Â
god, youâre the picture of pure debauchery.
eren hadnât kissed you for longer than twelve seconds, heâs 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 â 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 youâre somewhat frowning, as if you were confused on the reason of why heâd stopped, then you are shying away again upon taking heed of your current predicament.
âuhm.â quietly, you release a breath.
unable to help it, eren smirks, âthat was okay, right?â he mutters, eyes flicking between your own and your lips.Â
was more than okay. âuh huh.â
you rub them together, finding your eyes drifting. they slide from erenâs to the thick, double hued plushness of onyankoponâs â both men notice. â. . donât do that,â ony chuckles, eyes closed as he rubs at the bridge of his nose with two of his knuckles. âchill, aight?â
itâs only fair that you deserve a taste of him, too. maybe youâre being greedy . . .
âyou both arenât gonna let me leave, are you?â delicately, you ask the question, falling back against the comfortable cushions of the sofa. in reality, the idea of leaving and heading back to lanaâs is now buried within the furthest margin of your mind. you watch the two of them share a look before onyankopon shrugs, â. . weâre not gonna keep you here if you donât wanna be . . weâd prefer it,â he begins to smile. âif you stayed though.â
you hum a soft, âmhmmm,â with a giggle, pushing your cold, little toes underneath erenâs thigh. â. . so, what are we gonna do now?â
the three of you are quiet for a moment, letting the question steep within the matter of your brains. thereâs 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 â lots of things. âwatch a movie in my room,â eren offers while leaning his head against onyâs arm that lays outstretched along the back of the couch. âif you want, mama, âs up to you.â
immediately, you nod. you simply just want to be around them, everything else is trivial. âcan we watch somethinâ scary?â
âsomethinâ scary?â youâre 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. âyâsure you can handle somethinâ scary, pretty girl?â
âmhm!â youâre nodding and smiling over your bottom lip that your top row of teeth nibbles into. â âm a big girl, ony.â
âmm, yeah?â heâs tossing his arm over your shoulder, leading you down the hall. âlets see about that then.â
the movie eren chooses is thirteen ghosts. he explained to you that itâs a bit old, figures itâs something that you should be able to handle. before you all climb into his bed, you hesitate, unsure of where to lay â whether beside eren or ony. âhm,â they discern the dilemma all over your face and rub at the opened space between them.Â
the movie begins and you examine how the three of you all sit up â legs outstretched, postures aligned with the help of erenâs firm pillows. youâre not sure of exactly who lays down first, nonetheless, the other two follow and about halfway into the film, youâre curled up with your back towards eren, front facing onyankopon. youâve been trying to focus for the past forty five minutes, fighting to understand the plot, names of characters, and whatâs going on, however, your brain is engrossed in all things ony and eren, eren and ony.Â
you feel as though youâre breathing too loud, moving too much, obviously not paying attention â you can already hear giselle demanding you to get out of your head, to relax, and stop thinking.Â
itâs hard not to, though.Â
ony lays upon his back . . an arm folded behind his head, the other draped across his stomach. he took off his crewneck â 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.Â
you canât help it . . the tips of your acrylics start at his elbow before theyâre trailing, crawling higher and higher â languid and idle. he doesnât 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. âsorry,â you soon murmur.
he looks down at you, âhm? . . what for?â
your eyes remained fixed upon your own fingers, letting them hook beneath his. â. . didnât ask for permission . . to touch.â
youâre really something fucking else.
âyou good,â he softly replies. âdonât trip.â
ony watches your head move â you pull it up to look at him and your eyes shift, down to his lips again. he doesnât know if youâre 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 donât do either. you huff a bratty, little sigh out through your nose and squeeze at one of his fingers with all of yours.
âony.â
itâs sudden when he moves, when he lifts up on an elbow and presses you flat on your back so that thereâs some inches of space separating you both again, âdonât start nothinâ you not gonâ be able to finish . . alright?â 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. itâs as if you were dazed â 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, âshe think iâm playing, huh?â
the other man follows suit, lifting up on an elbow to look down at you with a soft smile, â. . . you want âyan to kiss you, mama?â
you squirm, mumbling a small, âyeah.â
âokay,â he calmly croons. âjusâ one kiss?â
âonly one.â
youâre so sweet . . so pretty. onyankopon decides to indulge you â 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 . . . heâs 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.Â
however, when he kisses you . . he feels how much youâve 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 onyankoponâs 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 â something stifled and small. a weak whimper.
it only seems to light a fuel within ony â when your mouth opens wider, his does, too. itâs 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 heâs returning back for more . . for a fiercer taste, a longer one.
then, unexpectedly, heâs gone. his touch, his lips, the taste of him . . it all vanishes within a single moment.
youâre 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. âwe all good now?â ony forces himself to keep his hands where they should be, to himself.Â
no, you want to say. no, youâre 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.Â
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, âyou feel okay?â
surprisingly, your answer is honest. you whine out a small, âno,â 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, youâre between them and still, nothing is enough. what was once just wet and uncomfortable starts to plain out ache . . itâs painful, honestly. âhurts,â you mumble. your fingers slide up your thighs â with it, they bring your skirt.Â
âno, no, nah,â erenâs chuckling, stopping you midway. âyou donât want this, baby.â
you donât . . . youâre not ready for the both of them, yet. he doesnât think youâll ever be.
surprisingly, youâre whining, âyes, i do,â then grabbing his wrist, tugging it between your thighs. â âm a big girl, eren . . really.â
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 arenât just mateoâs baby sister anymore â all this time, he thinks thatâs whatâs been hindering himself from proceeding with you any further. you are everything he wants, everything heâll ever need. and still, he coasts his attention over to onyankopon, awaiting his decision. you both are. if he decides to wait . . then thatâs what youâll all do â wait.
âyou sure?â onyâs voice is deep, quiet.
âmhm.â
and so, youâll 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 â the way you taste, the way you breathe, the way you simply exist . . .Â
you tremble underneath the first sweep of someoneâs hand across your breast. the top you wear is ribbed and cropped â 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, onyankoponâs 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, âwe can take this off?â gently, he asks the question, watching you rapidly nod your head, already lifting your arms.
your voice is soft, whiny, âmhm. yes, please.â
heâs smiling. âalright, maâ.â
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, itâs tossed somewhere, already long forgotten.Â
suddenly, youâre nervous again . . laying back down, arms instinctively molding into a fold to shield yourself away from two pairs of eyes â brooding and ardent. âwhyâre you shy now?â erenâs asking, handsome grin splitting his lips to reveal his teeth.Â
you nibble on your lip, feeling a stretch of warmth blossom across your nose, â. . c-cause you both make mânervous.â
âwe make you nervous?â onyankopon finds the admission cute.Â
âyeah,â you sigh, deciding to let your arms carefully fall. thereâs no point in hiding, you think, and what theyâre met with is a pair of plumb, round tits . . dotted here and there with precious beauty marks along an expanse of pretty, brown skin.Â
âdonât be,â eren murmurs, reaching out to cup one within the crater of his hand. âwant us to make you feel good, right?â
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 â a sound youâve never heard yourself make before. itâs something weak . . wringed and broken. he pulls off with a wet pucker and a blasĂ© âhmm,â 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. âfelt good?â
you hiccup a quiet, honest, ây-yeah.â
onyankopon steals another kiss when eren tips his head down for one more taste. he swallows every gasp, whimper â clutches at the doughy skin of your hip to keep you from squirming too much. âpretty ass,â he murmurs. âhow long you been wantinâ this? be honest.â
you cover your face with an arm, âs-since â ah, eren . .â 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. âs-since t-that day . . in the kitchen . . . when you came over and h-helped cook breakfast for the first time.â
the two of them had been shirtless that morning â 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.Â
âthat long, mm?â
âc-couldnât help it,â you hook your fingers within the neckline of onyâs shirt, tracing a finger across the gold, cuban link he wears. âyou both are so pretty . . . âs not fair.â
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 â just as effortlessly as breathing. your lips are pouted when you grab at his hand, dragging it down your tummy, âwanâ you both . . right here.â both watch how beautifully you melt when onyankoponâs fingers find the precious bud of your clit embellished by the sodden cotton of your underwear.Â
âshit,â 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 â your shitâs fat. itâs 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.Â
inquisitively, one of erenâs 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, âright here, mama?â 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 canât seem to make up your mind.Â
your voice is rising in pitch, ây-yes . . please.â
âwhatchu want then?â heâs asking. âweâll give it to you, you know that right?â
will they? theyâre disappointed when you turn your face away and toss your wrist across your mouth, clearly refusing to say. itâs cute though, eren supposes. itâs cute that youâre timid enough to not voice what itâs clear you want, nonetheless, comfortable with their fingers rubbing on your pussy. âcan we take these off?â 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 heâs pulling them down.Â
itâs a mess . . . youâre 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. itâs only right that you reach a hand down to take a feel of and assess the damage, and you donât seem all that surprised to hear the faint squishing sound of your fingers slipping and sliding between them. you whimper, â âm sorry . .â youâre frowning, genuinely upset. â âm makinâ a mess.â
youâre something else â genuinely.Â
âdonât apologize . . do not fuckinâ apologize, alright?â erenâs whispering, eyes transfixed on the oeuvre that is your pussy. âyou ever touch yourself, baby?â
you mewl, âonly a few times.â
âyeah?â he breathes, pushing one of your legs up higher in order for the light of the television to illuminate your core. âshow us . . show us how you make yourself feel good.â
youâre starting to whine again, âeren.â youâre embarrassed â always one intimidated of toys, youâve relied simply on your fingers for the last year or so since becoming acquainted with your body. itâs 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. âl-like that,â delicately, you sigh, letting your muscles melt, thighs fall further apart.Â
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 thatâs seeping through the soft, black fleece of erenâs 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, heâs never desired a person as much as he does you. always a man known as cool, calm, and collected, heâs stunned himself when realizing that, regarding the both of you, heâs willing to just about walk to the ends of the world and then some if itâd make you happy.Â
heâs 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.
âsometimes, i jusâ . .â you never finish your sentence, opting to instead let them see for themselves. your fingers move â 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. itâs obvious that you like it â the pressure, that is. you never let them slip inside, only squidge them against that hungry, little pit.
eren crowds in closer, âshit, sheâs clenching again.â
another tide of slick from your cunt, another rush of blood to the tips of their cocks. âneedy ass pussy.â onyankoponâs suddenly pushing your legs up further . . until your knees knock against your shoulders. you squeak in the same moment he tells eren, âslide a finger in, paâ.â
eyes wide, youâre watching, dazed, as erenâs 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 youâre already trembling, mewling for more. he flits it inside until he hits the base, murmuring out to ony, â âs fuckinâ tight.â
âyeah?â suddenly, heâs roused to know, â. . anybody else ever been in there? yâa virgin, baby?â
your eyes are closed, acrylics digging into the flexed skin of his wrists as you nod your head and whimper a tender, âmhm.â hips buck when, empirically, eren curls his digit, avid to find one, specific spot. âwanâ you to take it . . you and âren.â
another flow of blood and their balls tense. onyâs sure his tip is probably purple now. âwait, you sure?â 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 heâs aware that youâve probably thought about this before, likely, over and over again.Â
âm s-s-sure . . oh my god,â your backâs curving upwards when eren starts to stroke his finger inside of you, firm and steady.Â
âyou trust us that much?â 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. âtrust us enough to break your lil pussy in? shape it only for our cocks â that much, baby?â
the muscle of your thighs tauten as your pussy squelches around the single digit. you feel dirty . . . nevertheless, in the best of ways. âf-fuck me,â youâre 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. âfuck me, please?â
youâre so needy . . . ânot yet,â onyankopon lowers down to peck a slow kiss upon your lips. ânah, i need a taste first.â
erenâs finger is gone and you watch them maneuver â 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.Â
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 donât, 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.Â
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. heâs soon kneeling with a soft breath being exhaled from his nose, adjusting his chain while smirking and fixing his eyes upon yours, âdonât move too much, aight?â he mumbles, curtly pulling you even further until your ass hangs off of the bed, suspended in the air by only his hands. âion like runners.â
âw-waitwait, wait . . ony.â
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 âaht . . nuh uh, princess. open âemâ and shortly after, erenâs hands are finding the backs of your knees to keep them bent and spread wide.Â
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 â in short, heâs a fucking messy eater.
he makes you tremble no less than three minutes in. youâve never experienced a sensation like it . . . mind staggering lust that is. no oneâs ever made you feel as though you were two seconds away from being lit on fire if their touch were to ever leave you.Â
youâre sobbing out a whiny, âo-ony,â 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.Â
âof course you taste this fuckinâ good,â he mumbles, eyes gliding to meet yours. he wants you to watch him, wants you to notice how good he makes you feel â kill any other thoughts of you being with another human being on this earth aside from him and his boyâs for as long as time exists. youâre theirs now. forever and always.Â
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, âpull it in â thatâs right, yeah . . âm givinâ you one more â stop fuckinâ movinâ.â he slips his ring finger in beside his middle, watching how wet they reappear when exiting your body.
âion think we gonâ need lube, baby,â he utters for eren. fuck no, youâre dripping wet.Â
sniffling, your toes, glossy with a cute, fresh, baby pink french tip, curl when his finger does the same. and youâre thinking that this is tolerable â his pace is slow enough for you to breathe in deep enough breaths to calm your racing heart . . . thatâs until it increases speed, and with that, he also does something with his wrist â 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.Â
âf-fuck, fuck, waitââ 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.
âstay still.â
you take it that heâs 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 erenâs thigh, feeling drool pool upon the surface of your tongue. heâs 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?Â
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, heâs sure you still know your own name.Â
âwant you to cum, okay?â he utters, slipping his thumb free from your mouth to find the hardened nub of your nipple and tug. âwhenever you feel it, want you to tell us.â
onyankoponâs tongue has found your clit again. your eyebrows furrow, nose cutely wrinkles with the onslaught of too much pleasure, âokay,â you snivel. âoh my . . god, why does this feel so good?â you sound broken â frustrated, almost. wrists wriggle within his hand, eren doesnât think you do it on purpose, nonetheless, he knows that if he lets them go, theyâll revert right back into pushing ony away.Â
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.
itâs abrupt, the sweet squeaks you give â theyâre immediate, â âmcummingâmcumming . .â your shuddering legs latch closed around his hand. âdaddy, âm cumming.â
forcefully, onyankopon shoves your legs back up and out of his way, âpush it out,â he hums, âall of it . . every last fuckinâ drop.â
your pussy spasms, gurgling around his digits and drooling out honeyed cream. eren lets your wrists go and naturally, youâre grabbing onto him, pulling him down closer so that youâre able to bury your face within the slope of his neck in efforts to quiet your sounds. âc-canât take â a-ah, daddy no,â youâre sobbing when his fingers enter the mix, finding your clit to trace messy halos onto.Â
âjusâ take it,â heâs mumbling, kissing along the mounds of your tits. âthere you go, fuck.â
when onyâs fingers are removed, so are erenâs. you whimper and pant, thinking youâre in the clear before a palm is falling down onto your cunt with a thick smack.Â
from then on, youâre handled sweetly . . given a tender clit kiss, pushed back further up atop of the bed. you watch eren undress â 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.Â
heâs big . . . intimidatingly so.Â
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. âjusâ in case.â
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. â. . oh . . goodness,â you whisper. you gather itâs about eight and a half inches and, shockingly, a shade darker than him â 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. itâs 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 â small and silver, three of them, running vertically down his frenulum.
when heâs hovering over you, your face caged in by the thick muscle of his forearms, youâre still staring at it, fingers itching to feel. eren can tell. heâs chuckling, using a tendon underneath his stomach to make his dick jump and beckon you, âthe piercings, huh?â he mumbles. âyou can touch âem, mama, i donât mind.â
âokay . . u-uhm, yeah,â you reach down and gingerly wrap your fist around him. he doesnât react much aside from his tummy tensing, albeit, when your thumb strokes the three, little piercings, he sucks in some air between his teeth. âthey donât hurt?â you inquire quietly, eyes focused on a frothy bead of precum forming from the small hole atop his tip.
âno, jusâ,â he bucks into your hand and gives another pretty smile. âfuckinâ sensitive.â
âoh,â you return it with a giggle. â. . . âs pretty. i want one now.â
eren hums, âyeah? wanna match wiâme?â
âmhmm.â
youâre 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 whatâs about to happen. you reach for his shoulders, wrapping your hands around them tight. between the both of your lips, you whimper, â âm scared.â
eren pulls away, face softened with gentle adoration, âyouâre comfortable, yeah? yâstill wanna do this?â
your responding nod is immediate. you do, you really do.Â
âokay,â he kisses you again. âgonna go slow,â 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 â you loosen with a soft moan. âthink i can make you cum from jusâ this.â
youâre sure that you can. your clit is sensitive â 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.
ârelax, mama,â onyâs crooning, keenly watching it all from near the opened window a few feet away where he sparks a thick blunt.Â
â âs gonna hurt more if you flinch.â
you try. your eyes are tightly shut as you exhale a breath, âokay, o . . kay.â
eren finds the rigid nub of your clit, beginning to rub it in tight, stable circles. âlike when i rub your clit, hm?â he whispers against your lips. ânice and quick.â
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, youâre 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 â packed to the brim. in truth, itâs indescribable.Â
eren dips his fingers into your mouth with one word mumbled, âopen.â
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 heâs gliding his hand back down, smearing it at his base. âgonna move now, okay?â
âuh huh.â
his first thrusts are slow . . shallow. he rocks in only about six inches, easing the taut, flexing muscles of your walls. âthere you go,â heâs 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.Â
you sigh again, relax some more, open yourself further. â. . oh, fuck.â
you feel how much eren restrains himself, muscles within his arms and back tightening with the effort. it feels just as you thought â world staggeringly good. your fingers slide within his hair, arm tightens around his back. âdeeper,â you whimper. âplease.â you want him to give you all of him â every single inch.Â
his voice is quiet, stifled, âyou sure?â
you lift your hips, âyes, eren . . gimmie it.â
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. itâs 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 heâs fucking you â nice and steady, firm and deep. you surrender without much of a fight given, throwing your head back, eyes shut, âf-fuck, eren.â
â âm givin you what you wanted,â he softly huffs, grabbing one of your knees and bending it towards. âwanted me deeper, right?â
oh my god, itâs 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. erenâs cock is fat . . it manages to find crevices and crannies inside of you that you hadnât even been sure existed. small hands find his hips and you sink your nails into them, mouth fallen agape.
âf-fuck,â eren grits out through his teeth. âmy god, youâre takinâ it, baby â every . . fuckinâ inch. mm, feels good?â
youâre nodding your head, tits bouncing, legs agape, âfeels s-so . . u-ungh!âÂ
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 donât want to think, donât want to move â you want this until you physically canât have it anymore. âdaddy,â you whimper the name delicately, skating the opened gaps of your fingers through his hair once more to tug. âdaddy, oh god.â
âyeah,â eren breathes, attentive to your words, your body, the soaked babbling of your pussy. âmm, i know â âm right here, mama. daddyâs right here.â
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. âshit,â he moans. âpussyâs too good . . gonna make me cum.â itâs somewhere passed too good. he forces himself to get a grip. he doesnât 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, â âm on the shot . . you can cum in me, iâll take it.â
itâs 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. youâll take it. youâre going to fucking take it â one, two, three, maybe six loads, who knows how much he has inside of him tonight, but your little cuntâs going to take each one, heâll make sure of it.
your pretty sounds are stolen from your mouth with each pounding thrust. no longer does eren lay atop of you, heâs 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.Â
his cock reaches deep, you find. plump, mushroom tip knocks incessantly at the grooved barrier of your cervix and hereâs where the tears come . . warm, slow, and dribbling, falling down to your temples as you hold onto your own thighs, weeping for him to, âd-donât stop, please, daddy, donât stop.â
âmm, âs all yours now, baby,â he groans. â âs all your dick . . for as long . . as y-you fuckinâ want it.â
you feel gooeyness dribbling down between the fat cheeks of your ass â sticky and warm. sparing a look over the folded rolls of your tummy, you find that erenâs dick is streaked with white. thereâs a wreath of it thronged at his base, viscid and thick, leaking down his balls . . and itâs all produced from you. âu-unh, unh, g-god, fuck, ngh . .â your breaths are strained, your muscles burn, nevertheless, you donât think youâve never felt so good in your entire life.Â
when eren sees you begin to drool, a sphere of pride swells within his chest. there it is. what heâs been wanting. youâre now fucked dumb . . plain out stupid. no longer do comprehensible spill from your swollen, plush lips . . only frail babbles and spit ridden slurs. âgood girl,â he grumbles, smearing his thumb within the mess of your cheek. âgood fuckinâ girl . . mhm, cream on it . . cream on your fuckinâ dick, go ahead.â
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, â. . o-oh god, âm gonna cum, ârennie.â
erenâs eyes are brutish, firm when he demands, âdo it,â through a low huff. âfuck did i jusâ say huh? . . . âs yours, ruin it.â
you make him proud when you tearfully obey.
and god, itâs a mess.
you donât squirt, no, itâs more of . . a stream â 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, heâs smitten by you. heâs absolutely besotted that he simply canât 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 â hot and runny. âoh, fuck,â he moans into the heated cavern of your opened mouth. his thighs shudder as he buries himself as deep as he can, âooh shit . . g-good girl.â
the both of you are heaving by the time the aftershocks come and heâs 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 erenâs 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.
âshit.â
you hear onyankopon chuckling as he replaces where eren had been, right between your legs â 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 erenâs cum. âfuck . . that pussyâs gapinâ â was pent up, baby. i can tell.â
eyes closed, still laying beside you and fighting to catch his breath, eren laughs softly, âyoâ, fuck you âyan.â itâs been a long time coming, he thinks. months of pining, runarounds, and hidden feelings. the high heâs riding is unable to be described by words.Â
âpoor mama,â onyankopon lowly drags, leaning down to peck your lips. youâre so gone, so far gone, you can only whine and reach for him. âi know, i know.â
he kisses your cheeks, your temple, your chin, forehead, soft and slow, awaiting the moment for when you sweetly hum and whisper his name, âonya.â
his voice is just as low when he asks, âyou wanna rest up, baby? we can try us laterââ
âno.â your voice is small though unyielding. you want him, too. âgimmie.â
alright. he will, then.
your pussy is sloppy when he smacks the tip of his cock against it â glossed over with white that smears along the surface of your thighs, too. strangely enough, onyankopon is in dire need for another taste. he canât help swiping two of his fingers through your lips, collecting the mixture of you and erenâs 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.Â
âmmm,â he hums.Â
his cock is two toned â a beautiful dark brown that fades into rosewood near halfway. similar to eren, heâs around eight and a half inches . . give or take, nine. just as his, too, itâs even all around â equal girth and length, heavy even while on brick. only difference was . . you notice the onyâs cock curves a bit . . . a bit to the left. youâre intrigued, watching him spit upon his tip, smear it in with his thumb, then breach his way inside.
itâs similar to the first time all over again. you tense . . . hard.Â
both of them have to coo and pepper you with sweet kisses to get you to ease up again. âshit,â ony mutters, eyebrows furrowed as he works in the last three inches. âstill tight . . how you still fuckinâ tight?â
your answer is lost somewhere within your moans. you were scared of his curve, youâll 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. âshit.â
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, âyou feel good as a motherfuckaâ, mama, âm not gonâ lie.â
once more, your cunt constricts, âfuck me then.â
he does.Â
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. âmmmmhm,â he mutters, taking the soles of your feet and using them to open your legs as wide as they were able. âyeah . . give me that shit.â
with a faster pace comes harder plunges. a splatter of wetness squelches out from your pussy with each drive in. âyou gonâ take it?â he huffs, sliding his hands across down your calves, to your thighs. âyou not gonâ run?â
ânoo, âm not, i p-prom . . pinkie p-promise,â you keen. youâd never. you want to be good for him, too, just as you were with eren. you want to be their good girl.Â
and thatâs all onyankopon wants to hear.
he pulls out, and with that, falls on his back, and tugs you on top of him. âsit on it.â
reading your apprehensiveness all over your pretty face, he gives you a blinding white and gold smile, âdonât be scared, i gotchu.â 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. âmmph.â 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.Â
ony moans a soft, âjusâ like that.â his hands donât go for your hips, no, they slide up until he takes hold of the sides of your torso, more upon your ribs. âi gotchu, donât even worry, baby girl.â
you werenât aware that onyankopon would, quite literally, have you. he doesnât 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.Â
youâre 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 . . . youâre something out of a porn catalogue, surely.Â
and onyâs very encouraging. he hums and he groans and he hisses, calling you âtheir good girl,â tells you that your pussy is the best heâll ever get, demands through low murmurs that you âget that dick.â you find that you crave to do it yourself â bounce, that is. your legs move, feet flattening upon the bed . . and he notices. âw-wanna,â you sniffle, voice broken as you swipe the back of your wrist across your soaked cheek. âwanna m-make you cum, daddy.â
onyankopon has to close his eyes at the simple sentence â what you donât know is that you almost caught him then and there. heâs two seconds away from shooting triplets inside of you, heâs sure. birth control be damned.Â
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 youâre curious . . you want to feel how much your pussy has to stretch to accommodate all that he gives. âs-s-sooo big,â you moan, eyes flipped white as a trickle of drool sways from the pudginess of your bottom lip, dripping down to his chest. âs-so big, papa.â
âfuck,â onyâs 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. âwhy you . . givinâ it to m-me like this, princess?â
you suddenly slam down and swirl your hips in delicious, petite circles, acquiring some much needed friction from his trimmed pubes against your clit. â âc-cause . . â wanâ y-your cum,â you admit with a pout. youâre needy for it. youâve gotten a taste and you doubt youâll ever be the same again.Â
never the one to be outdone, ony starts to raise his hips, meeting you halfway. âyeah?â he licks his lips. âyou want this nut? . . you gonâ catch it?â
when he speeds up, youâre aware that heâs taken over the reigns again. your head tips back and, once again, you hold on while nodding. âuh huh,â you squeak. âhng . . unh, unggg.â god, you are absolutely filthy. ony knows that you two are plain out disgusting, but, he canât find it within himself to actually give a fuck.
he has you â the girl of his dreams â brain dead, cockdrunk, drooling, and needy for his cum. âyeahhh,â he drags lowly, eyebrows furrowing, watching your pretty nails disappear between your thighs where you go to rub your clit, âyeah, you w-want this fuckinâ nut . . ima give it to you.â youâre working for it . . clenching and creaming, and rolling your hips. he thinks heâd 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. âr-ride it out, mama,â he hisses, âride that shit out, fuck.â the longer, the better.
you unflex your toes when it starts to, sadly, ebb away near a minute later. how disappointing. onyankoponâs arms are wrapped around you. he holds you tight, as though he never wants to let go. your head feels fuzzy â the world is a blur when you feel yourself being picked up and moved. âmm, shit, baby,â he groans. you have his legs weak and, what was once dark, illuminates into brilliance as he carries you inside of erenâs bathroom. you hear water running and you feel ony carefully slipping himself from inside of you before youâre being transferred into someone elseâs arms and lowered into a vast jacuzzi bathtub, full of warm water whose surface is clouded with foaming, glimmering bubbles.Â
âmm,â you sniffle and focus your sight on ony who stands in front of the mirror, slowly removing the gold cap from his mouth.Â
âcareful, mama.â
erenâs behind you. carefully, he ties your braids into a big, topple of a bun, making sure they donât get too wet, just before sinking inside the tub, too. tugging you into his chest, he isnât at all surprised to feel your muscles liquify as you melt and tip your head back into his shoulder. youâre tired now, of course you are. âwanâ it again,â you admit through a mewl with a dazed smile after onyâs in the tub, too. âanâ again . . anâ again.â
they both chuckle. ânah, baby, you gotta rest for a little bit.â
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 theyâre buried deep inside of you, â. . anâ then i can get it again?â
theyâll give it to you as much as you want. theyâll give you the world if itâs just enough to put another beautiful smile on your face.
â â€ïž â all rights reserved ! © pwncez !
currently nyaming :3 on a yummie oreo shake while writin ! ! ! at 16kay wordz n m Barelyyyy easin in2 da smut . here iz an excerpt frm an earlier scene à«źê°àŸàœČâ©ÂŽ á” â©ê±àŸàœČá
Some of you don't understand when Levi fucks, he fucks. The man isn't stopping until he has your legs shaking and you lose your voice from moaning loud. His strong grip on your hips, his cock pounding you deep, reaching the deepest parts of you. Levi knows your body, he knows which positions you like and what makes you cum the hardest. His stamina is unmatched, he can go for hours without stopping.
All that training and the use of ODM gear have made him able to rock your spine every time he pushes his cock into you, manhandling you. "That's my girl. Take it fucking all." You whine into the pillow, he has your wrists pinned behind your back as he slams into you. You have cum so many times now, Levi loved it, he relished in the pleasure he can give you. He growls as he cums inside of you, filling you up to the brim. Your body is sore, your legs shaking afterward. What did you expect? He is the humanities strongest after all....
See you there
àšâĄà§ GOT ME LOOKING FOR ATTENTION! â how they react to you being needy.
featuring. itoshi rin, shidou ryusei, nagi seishiro, barou shoei.
warnings. f!reader, f!masturbation, dacryphilia, marking, pet names (pretty lady, good girl). all characters written 18+.
note! it's my first time writing barou so please be kind! enjoy (â§ââŠ)
âËàŹȘâč ITOSHI RIN
it's a day before rin was expected to return home and instead of telling you about his early arrival, he figured he'd try to surprise you. though, when he opens the door to the apartment, you aren't at your usual spot on the couch. he worries that you might not be home, until he hears itâa pitchy whine coming from down the hall. he follows the sound that leads him to the bedroom where the door is slightly ajar, enough for the moans to spill from the gap.
rin pushes the door open with his foot, revealing your figure on the bed. it's a lewd sight; on your knees with your legs spread, fingers stuffed in your dripping cunt in a chase for that sweet spot you can't quite reach. still, you pump them with fervor in search of blissful relief. it takes a moment for you to notice the man's presence and turn to him with teary eyes.
a gasp catches in your throat at the late recognition. your call of his name comes out wobbly. "rin?"
a tear falls past your lashes as you blink, rolls down your cheek and drips from your jawline. rin thinks it must be a little fucked up that seeing you in such a state turns him on. it makes his pants feel tighter, lights glowing embers beneath his skin. he figures that, maybe, he should inquire about the watery look in your eyes.
"why are you crying?"
"it's not the same," you reveal, turning your gaze down. you chew at the inside of you cheek, contemplating on if you should elaborate. though, when you drag your eyes back up, it's like his teal stare compels you to continue. "y'know... as when you do it."
rin didn't think his ego could get any bigger but you have a knack for feeding it. the confession goes straight to his dick and as much as he'd love to sit and savor your helplessness for just a little longer, there's a way address both your needs while still having a bit of fun with you.
"i'm here now," rin tells you, closing the distance between you. he wipes another stray tear from your cheek. "so, why don't you ask for my help?"
âËàŹȘâč SHIDOU RYUSEI
your breath tickles shidou's collarbone as you let out yet another discontent sigh that borders a whimper. with a drink in one hand and the other settled on your waist, shidou glances down at you. it's a rare sight to see you so clingy; usually he's the one sticking to you like glue. but now, there's a sparkle of want in your eyes as you toy with the buttons of his shirt, fingers threatening to unfasten them.
"a little touchy there, huh?" shidou says with a grin. he wouldn't mind putting a little bit of his naked chest on display but it's unlike you be so forward at events like theseâones where anyone can see. "thought you preferred when we maintained decorum at these types of things."
"you know i don't want to be here," you respond, a soft pout punctuating your words.
oh, does he know. you'd been even more touchy while the two of you were getting ready earlier. the length of your nails grazed the curves of his abdomen as you straddled him, your clothed cunt hovering just above the growing tent in his boxers. leaving a wet kiss on the pulse of his neck, you rolled your hips, grinding down on his bulge. releasing the lip you had pulled between your teeth, a tempting offer fell from your lips. "can't we just forget about this one? i think we'd have more fun here anyway."
if weren't for his manager warning him that another absence would be the woman's last straw, shidou would have given in and stayed home to please your every desireâlapped and slurped at you until you came on his tongue and fucked you until you did the same around his cock.
though, in an effort to stop himself from burning any more bridges in the industry, he chose to attend with a needy girlfriend and a painfully hard cock.
lifting his glass, fuchsia eyes flit to the watch wrapped around his wrist.
"twenty more minutes, pretty lady." shidou dips his head down so his lips are ghosting yours. the airiness of his voice sends shivers down your spine, causes goosebumps to raise on your arms. "and i'll be happy to take care of you."
âËàŹȘâč NAGI SEISHIRO
nagi isn't usually distracted so easily when he's playing games. he pays his phone little mind, so much so that people begin to worry when he doesn't text back after a couple of hours. sometimes he's focused to the extent that he forgets to eat until he can hear his stomach growling.
the one exception and his favorite distraction is you.
he doesn't mind when you shimmy your way between him and his controller, latching onto him like a clingy koala bear. he'll rest his chin on the top your head and let you be. that much was meant to be the plan today when you took your place on his lap but you seemed to have something else in mind if the kisses you left trailing up his neck were any evidence.
they were easy enough to ignore at first but the soft feel of your lips against his skin eventually turned into wet, open-mouthed kissesâthe kind where you suck and nip at him. each bruising kiss you leave behind chips away at nagi's focus. though, much to your dismay, his caramel eyes stay glued to the screen ahead of him.
you were almost sure he would have given in by now, picked up on the heavy hints you were so clearly dropping. you suppose his cluelessness is one of his many charms and you certainly don't mind having to speak up if it get you what you want.
"sei," you draw out the syllable, curling your fingers around the wisps of snowy hair at the nape of his neck, "wouldn't you rather play with me?"
the purr of your voice and the implication behind your words makes him still for a moment, long enough for little health his character had to dwindle, prompting the game over screen. he doesn't seem to see his failure and if he does he's made it apparent that he doesn't care.
finally, you're the focus of his gaze. nagi abandons the controller in favor resting his hands on your hips. his hold on you is firm and when you meet his eye, you can feel your heart jump in your chest. it isn't so often that you witness this side of himâthe one where he greed is palpable. that and his next words light a flame within you.
"what did you have in mind?"
âËàŹȘâč BAROU SHOEI
there's something endearing, captivating, about watching barou practice. his moves are fluid yet forceful and they can't help but remind you of another activity that you'd describe the same way. it's even more difficult to not make the connection as you watch his chest heave and beads of sweat drip down from his hairline.
the image makes your mind wander to thoughts of you beneath him, mouth open wide and nails running down his back as he pounds into you, hitting that sensitive spot he's sure will make you come undone. you rub your thighs together at the thought in a feeble attempt to alleviate the pressure between your legs. it does little to help and you imagine there's only one thing that can.
"hey."
you blink at the call of your name, eyes focusing on barou at the barrier between the field and the stands. he beckons you over with two fingers, he other hand wiping away the perspiration that dampens his face. picking up the water bottle you had refilled for him, you scurry over to meet him.
your gaze follows the bottle as barou brings it to his mouth. you watch his adam's apple bob up and down with each swallow before your eyes drag up to see his lips wrapped around the spout. the scene before you transforms again, this time to one where it's your nipple between his lips. you squeeze your thighs together, crossing one arm over your chest. when you speak, your voice comes out a little squeakier than usual. "almost done?"
barou shakes his head. "still got half an hour."
"half an hour?" you repeat, eyes widening and lips curling down into a frown.
barou isn't stupid. just like you've been watching him, he's had his eyes on you. he's seen how you've been looking at him with that far away gaze of yours and he knows exactly where your mind had gone in those moments. after all, you're doing a pretty poor job of hiding it.
"be a good girl and wait," he tells you, tipping your chin up so you're looking him in the eye. his crimson stare is hard but there's something else behind itâhunger. "then i'll give you what you want."
thanks for reading! consider commenting or reblogging if you enjoyed â€ïž
no matter how many fandoms you exist in, your haikyuu selfship stays with you always
MY FINAL MESSAGE TO MY TUMBLR HARASSER :
hi ! as you guys have probably seen on dash, in tags, in your inbox there is an anon + a blog @/ffflowers going out of their way to not only spread lies but also to completely try everything in their power to harass and âexposeâ me.
if youâve had them in your asks or seen their posts you wouldâve seen a link to a callout post from 2021 regarding a conversation that took place on an old blog of mine. their agenda with this callout post is to âproveâ that i apparently ignored this completely and got ârun offâ tumblr without taking any sort of accountability for what was said or making any sort of apology.
this is not true, back in 2021 i took and still take full accountability for what i said and have never denied it, i made 3/4 separate apologies at that time, one of which was my pinned post for around a week and have continued to grow and do better as a writer and as a person since.
this particular discourse was resolved at that time, i never avoided confrontation and admitted i was in the wrong because i was, i was caught off guard and panicked with a topic that i felt intimidated by â i apologise and take accountability for my own ignorance.
while on the subject of this discourse post, iâd just like to prove my statement in this post where i said this particular situation was not what drove me to leave tumblr temporarilyâ this can be proven by these screenshots. as you can see, the callout post was dated on the 8th of June 2021.
like i said again in my previous post about this, this did not drive me off of tumblr â i owned up to everything i said, even went back to tag every post regarding the discourse so people could read through and make their own opinion â i did not run from this. i continued to write on this blog for months after this discourse which can be proven by the literal date in which it says my blog deactivated at the top â 20th of October 2021. almost 5 months after the callout post. either iâm a slow runner or my statement is correct. again, this was 2 years ago and this person has harassed me ever since.
but while iâm on the topic, the reason i actually left that blog was due to the anon who is continuing to harass me now. i received consistent and constant death threats by the same anon for months, following the same pattern â when i stopped posting their asks, they then decided to try a different approach. they began to force themselves into other peoples safe spaces to tell them they âcouldnât write certain characters because i selfshipped with them and they belonged to meâ before going on to send those creators hate and death threats under the guise that i sent them â also not true.
i left tumblr for my own safety, this anon has my private and personal details, my social media and my face reveals but i refuse to let them ruin my safe space for me again. theyâve began to add more to their stories with sudden plagiarism and âblack fishingâ being suddenly mentioned into their posts which is again absolutely not true, my guess is their current posts werenât getting as much attention as they expected and they had to make it a little more eye catching.
theyâve also been consistently sending me anon asks hoping to bring relevance to the situation by urging me to post about it, they will send me hate before deciding to try and pretend to be another, nicer anon urging me to âhear my side of the storyâ or showering me in compliments about how they âneed an explanation because they know iâm too nice for thatâ again, itâs obvious itâs them since they go back to being horrible when theyâre ignored, and quite frankly itâs terrifying the lengths theyâll go to harass and manipulate me.
this morning while i was at work i had received an anon urging me to do that exact thing, to talk about the discourse, they sent me consistent asks until i made my post talking about how i will no longer be mentioning it on dash, they then sent me another nastier ask immediately after before then going to post on their blog @/ffflowers almost immediately after that.
also this is part two of them harassing me here and the reason i left my last nsfw blog + them doing the exact same thing theyâre doing now, they have a pattern â they will wait a few months before bringing themselves back into my inbox, when their hate asks to me are left unanswered then they play their way into other peoples inboxes hoping they will post + bring attention to the âdiscourseâ they are trying to spread. also another post iâve made about this situation lastnight here.
theyâve become increasingly more angry and violent the longer theyâve been with me, iâve been doxxed, threatened, consistently told to die and kms + had my character ripped to shreds on a site where i simply post writing for fun. i apologise to anyone whoâs been dragged into this or harassed by this person, they are nasty and this probably wonât be the end of them either â but i refuse to let them drive me off of this app again.
iâll be taking a small break for a few days to calm down, anon will remain off so they canât contact me because at this moment i donât feel safe and will be laying low on my personal acc for a while until i feel better. i apologise again for everything, the posts and my actions included, but i have no secrets.
emmie <3
Conqueror of DemonsÂ
LOVES YOU TOO MUCH - # SUNA RINTARO
a/n. sunarin marking all over your body đ§ââïž
tws. +18 MDNI cum inside, choking, bruise marks mentioned
suna can be very clingy with you behind his friendâs back. he wants to be with you all the time. he would constantly remind you that youâre his. he needs you and your little body to function normally since he canât make a day without his cock buried deep inside you.
but suna isnât just clingy, he is obsessive over you. adorable. suna canât help himself with his perverted thoughts so he gropes you all the time and covers your body with marks. hickies, bites, bruises, you name it. he even touches you in public because he is too desperate.
suna loves when he has his pretty fingers around your neck as he laughs in your face. leaving you whimpering and sobbing under him. your pleading eyes tear up as suna denies your highs over, again and again, teasing you for good.
"ya look so pretty like thisâ suna chuckles as he chokes you, pressuring a little bit more. âya like it when my cock is deep in ya? huh?â he bucks his hips as he ruts into you faster and rougher, sending your eyes back to see your brain.
âlook how pretty yer pussy is sinking my dickâ suna lifts your head up, letting you see his cock pumping in and out of you so easily. âfuck, ya feel so goodâ suna whispers as he pushes back your head down to the mattress, making your arch back, making your walls tightened around his cock.
âfuck!â suna moans when he felt his cock getting tightened by your walls. both of your moans filled up the room up along with the slaps of his balls on your thighs. âiâm gonna cum- gonna cum inside yaâ suna pants as he lifts his body up, grabbing both of your ankles as he deeply thrusts until he releases his loads inside you.
taglist (open) Ë Â· . @tendouscheese @cheybabey @tsuki-tsuki-daisuki @savantsoulfinder @tehehe.bri @amarinthe @emily-kald @sexyandcringe @idontlikeyourname @ravencal @gojoxxluv
© RINIACKERMAN â do not repost, claim or copy my works
he doesnât have an accent like the twins lol
To YOU its a ufo. I know what it is







