alaia

connie had always been hardworking.

from the day you met him, there was something magnetic about the way he talked about music. his eyes would light up, voice animated as he described layering sounds until everything clicked into place. music wasn’t just a hobby for him. it was something he lived and breathed.

that passion was one of the first things that drew you to him.

usually, being in the studio with connie felt alive. he’d bounce in his chair, humming half-formed lyrics, pulling you over every few minutes to listen to a new tweak in the beat.

“you hear that?”

most of the time you didn’t. but you’d still listen as he explained it with that bright, excited energy that made your chest feel warm.

tonight was different.

the studio felt colder than usual, the air conditioning humming steadily in the background. half-empty energy drink cans cluttered the desk, and the same drum loop had been playing on repeat for what felt like forever. connie sat hunched forward, staring at the glowing screen like it had betrayed him.

you watched from the couch in the corner, curled up with your legs tucked beneath you.

he dragged both hands down his face and groaned.

“nope.”

the beat cut off abruptly.

“that’s the fifth time in ten minutes,” you said softly.

“because it sucks.”

“it doesn’t suck, connie.”

“it does.”

he spun around in the chair, frustration etched across his features. the usual spark in his eyes was missing, replaced by exhaustion. his jaw was tight, shoulders drawn up, the creative joy that normally filled the room nowhere to be found.

this wasn’t just about a stubborn track. something heavier was weighing on him.

you set your phone aside and stood, crossing the small space until you were behind him. your hands settled gently on his shoulders. the muscles there were rock-hard with tension.

“con.”

he barely glanced up from the screen.

“hm?”

“you need to relax.”

“i’m trying.”

you squeezed his shoulders lightly.

“no, you’re not. you’re stressing yourself out.”

connie sighed, long and heavy, finally leaning back in the chair. you took the opportunity to slide onto his lap, straddling him comfortably and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. his hands found your waist instinctively, warm and familiar.

the studio fell quieter around you, just the faint hum of equipment and the distant city sounds outside the soundproofed walls.

“what’s really on your mind?” you asked, voice soft as you started massaging the knots from his shoulders.

he exhaled, head tilting back against the chair.

“everything feels wrong tonight. the melodies, the layers… nothing’s clicking. i’ve been here for hours and i’m getting nowhere.”

“you pressure yourself too much, connie. you’re so talented. i’ve watched you pull magic out of nowhere a hundred times. you’ve got this.”

he let out a quiet breath, some of the tension easing under your hands and words. his arms tightened around your waist, pulling you closer.

“i know… it just gets in my head sometimes.”

you smiled softly and pressed a lingering kiss to his temple.

“i know it does. but you don’t have to figure it all out tonight. the music will still be here when you’re ready.”

for a long moment he just held you, breathing you in, the frustration slowly melting into something warmer. you felt him relax beneath you, his thumbs tracing gentle circles on your hips.

you pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, voice dropping a little.

“i can help you relax, if you want.”

his gaze darkened, a slow, familiar smile curving his lips.

“yeah?” he murmured, voice lower now. “and how exactly do you plan on doing that?”

you leaned in, brushing your lips against his.

“let me show you.”

you stayed in his lap for a little longer, kissing him slow and deep, letting the tension in his body continue to unwind under your hands. only when you felt him starting to melt did you slide off his lap, moving deliberately between his spread thighs. your hands rested on his knees as you looked up at him, eyes soft but full of intent.

connie’s breath hitched.

“shit…”

you rubbed your palms slowly up and down his thighs over the soft fabric of his sweatpants, feeling the muscles tense and then relax under your touch. he groaned low in his throat, already knowing exactly where this was headed.

he leaned forward, cupping your face with both hands, and kissed you again deeper this time, a little hungrier. when he pulled back, he leaned against the chair, watching you with those dark, half-lidded eyes.

you kept your gaze on him as you slowly tugged his sweatpants and boxers down just enough. his dick sprang free, thick and heavy, already hard for you. you wrapped one hand around the base, stroking him slowly, deliberately, feeling him throb against your palm.

“fuck…” connie cursed under his breath, head tilting back for a second before his eyes returned to you. “baby…”

you could see the stress leaving his body with every stroke shoulders dropping, jaw unclenching, that tired frustration melting into pure want. you leaned in and pressed a soft, teasing kiss to the tip, then another, letting your tongue flick out lightly to taste him.

he groaned again, deeper this time.

you took your time, kissing along the length of him, licking slow stripes from base to tip while your hand kept stroking. every little sound he made sent warmth rushing through you. you wanted him to feel every second of this.

“stop playing with me,” he rasped after a while, voice rough with need. “put that shit in your mouth.”

you smiled sweetly up at him before wrapping your lips around the head, sinking down slowly. connie let out a long, satisfied groan, one hand gently gathering your braids into a loose ponytail.

he didn’t push hard not yet just held you as you worked him with your mouth and both hands, sucking and stroking in a steady, unhurried rhythm.

the sounds were filthy in the quiet studio wet, sloppy, obscene. you looked right up at him the whole time, eyes locked, watching every flicker of pleasure cross his face. he stared back at you, lips parted, breathing heavy.

“just like that… fuck, look at you.”

you took him deeper, relaxing your throat, bobbing your head with wet, messy strokes while your hands twisted and pumped what you couldn’t fit. you pulled off for a second to spit on him, making everything slicker, then dove back down, sucking harder.

you even dipped lower, licking and sucking gently at his balls while your hand stroked his cock, earning you a broken moan that made your stomach flutter.

connie’s grip on your braids tightened as he started guiding your head a little more, hips lifting to meet your mouth in shallow thrusts. you let him, moaning around his length, the vibrations pulling more curses from his lips.

“shit—baby, you’re gonna make me cum if you keep doing that…”

you didn’t stop. you kept sucking him sloppy and nasty, eyes watering but never breaking eye contact, taking him as deep as you could until his thighs started to tremble.

“i’m close,” he warned, voice strained, hips stuttering. “fuck, i’m so close—”

you hummed encouragingly and kept going, faster, wetter, until his whole body tensed. with a deep, broken groan, connie came hard down your throat. you swallowed every drop, humming softly around him as he pulsed in your mouth, working him through it until he was spent.

when you finally pulled off, breathing hard, you wiped the corner of your lips with your thumb and smiled up at him.

connie looked completely blissed out chest rising and falling, eyes heavy with satisfaction, all that earlier stress gone.

he pulled you back up into his lap immediately, kissing you deep and slow, tasting himself on your tongue.

he pulled you up gently until you were standing between his legs again. his eyes were dark and hungry as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your shorts and panties, tugging them down slowly. you stepped out of them, and he tossed the fabric somewhere behind him onto the studio floor.

his hands roamed back up your thighs, gripping the soft flesh of your ass as he looked up at you.

“damn… already hard again?” you whispered, a little breathless, glancing down at his dick. he had just cum in your mouth, yet he was thick and ready for you once more.

connie smirked, voice low and rough. “you do that to me.”

he pulled you back onto his lap, this time guiding you to straddle him properly. your knees settled on either side of his hips as you faced him. the chair creaked softly under your combined weight. his hands stayed on your ass, squeezing and spreading you as you hovered over him.

you leaned in and kissed him deeply. the kiss was slow at first warm, lingering, full of affection but it quickly grew hotter. tongues sliding, breaths mixing. his fingers dug into your ass as he rubbed you against his hard length, the slick head of his cock teasing your entrance and brushing your clit with every roll of your hips.

“ready for me, baby?” he breathed against your mouth.

you nodded, whimpering softly as you reached down to line him up. he was big always had been and you had to take him slowly. you sank down inch by inch, gasping into his mouth as he stretched you open. the fullness made your toes curl and your breath catch.

“fuck…” connie groaned, the sound vibrating against your lips. “so tight… take your time, baby. that’s it.”

you sat there for a long moment once he was fully inside, both of you breathing hard, foreheads pressed together. the intimacy of it being so full of him in the quiet studio, his arms wrapped tight around you made butterflies explode in your stomach.

then you started to move.

slow, rolling movements at first, grinding down on him in deep circles. connie’s hands helped guide you, gripping your ass and lifting you just enough before pulling you back down. your moans mixed with his, spilling into each other’s mouths as you kissed.

“feels so good,” you whispered against his lips, rolling your hips again.

“yeah? you like riding me like this?” he groaned, thrusting up gently to meet you. “look at you… so wet already.”

the pace gradually picked up. you rode him harder, bouncing on his cock while he thrust up to meet you. the wet, filthy sound of skin slapping filled the studio. he lifted your shirt, pushing it up and over your breasts so he could latch onto one, sucking and biting gently while his other hand kept guiding your hips.

“connie—” you moaned loudly, one hand gripping his hair, the other braced on his shoulder. every thrust hit deep, sending sparks through your whole body. you were soaking wet, dripping down his cock and thighs with every bounce.

“that’s it, baby,” he groaned against your chest, voice wrecked. “ride me just like that. fuck, you feel so fucking good. so tight around me.”

he started fucking you harder from below, hands gripping your ass almost bruisingly as he drove up into you. the chair rocked beneath you. your moans turned into cries, louder and more desperate. you leaned forward, kissing him messily, moaning into his mouth as he pounded up into you.

the tension was electric raw intimacy mixed with pure lust. sweat slicked your skin. his hands were everywhere squeezing your ass, gripping your waist, palming your breasts.

you felt yourself getting close, thighs shaking, walls clenching around him.

“i’m— i’m so close,” you whimpered, bouncing faster.

“me too,” he panted, sucking harder on your nipple. “cum with me, baby. let me feel you.”

a few more deep, powerful thrusts and you both fell over the edge together. your orgasm hit hard, body shaking as you clenched around him, moaning his name like a prayer. connie groaned loudly, burying himself deep as he came inside you, filling you up while he fucked you through both of your highs, drawing out every last wave of pleasure until you were trembling and oversensitive in his arms.

you collapsed against his chest, both of you breathing hard, sweaty and trembling. his arms wrapped around you tightly, one hand rubbing slow circles on your back as you came down together.

for a while, neither of you moved. just heavy breathing and the quiet hum of the studio equipment. connie pressed soft kisses to your shoulder, your neck, your temple gentle and grateful.

“you okay, baby?” he murmured, voice hoarse.

you nodded against his chest, smiling sleepily. “more than okay.”

he helped you clean up with some tissues from the desk, gentle and careful. then he pulled your shirt back down and helped you step back into your shorts and panties, stealing little kisses the whole time. you yawned deeply as he fixed his own clothes.

connie laughed softly, pulling you back into his lap for a moment.

“damn… that made me tired” he said, grinning.

you laughed too, resting your head on his shoulder. “good. you needed it.”

he rubbed your back. “yeah… i did. fuck it. i think i’m done for tonight. i’ll come back fresh tomorrow.”

you lifted your head. “you sure? you were stressing so much earlier.”

“i’m sure.” he kissed your forehead. “thanks to you.”

you both gathered your things and left the studio, hand in hand, walking down the hall to your bedroom. once inside, you went through your usual nighttime routine brushing teeth, washing faces, changing into comfy clothes. connie kept touching you the whole time a hand on your waist, a kiss on your neck, pulling you close.

finally, you climbed into bed. he pulled you against his chest immediately, arms wrapped around you, legs tangled together. you sighed happily, nuzzling into his warmth.

“i love you,” you whispered.

“i love you more,” he murmured, kissing the top of your head.

you thought he had fallen asleep his breathing slow and steady when suddenly his voice broke the quiet.

“wait… i think i finally have an idea for that hook.”

you groaned, half-laughing. “connie, please. just sleep. you can look at it tomorrow.”

“but what if the idea disappears? what if someone else gets it first?”

you lifted your head, giving him a look. “connie… really?”

he was already sitting up, that familiar excited spark back in his eyes. he leaned down and kissed you sweetly.

“i promise i won’t take long. just gonna write it down real quick.”

you watched him slip out of bed, shaking your head with a fond smile as he disappeared down the hall.

and somehow, even though he said he wouldn’t take long… you already knew you’d be falling asleep without him tonight.

which is exactly why his alarm going off at some ungodly hour in the morning feels like a personal attack every single time.

usually, you can ignore it.

today?

absolutely not.

your eyes snap open immediately.

you groan and bury your face deeper into your pillow.

the alarm keeps going.

and going.

and going.

oh my god.

“eren,” you mumble.

nothing.

this man is dead asleep.

great.

“eren.”

still nothing.

the alarm is practically screaming and he’s sleeping through it like he’s being paid to.

eventually, he lets out a groan, finally waking up. he blindly reaches for his phone and turns the alarm off.

silence.

finally.

you sit up with a pout on your face, staring straight ahead.

you’re too tired to be angry.

but you’re definitely annoyed.

eren looks over and immediately knows he’s in trouble.

“baby, i’m so—”

“i don’t wanna hear it.”

you fold your arms.

he sighs.

“hey, don’t be like that.”

he sits up and immediately reaches for you.

you try pushing him away.

keyword:

try.

because eren is significantly bigger than you and apparently has decided that personal space is no longer a thing.

“eren.”

“i’m sorry, alright?”

he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you closer.

you continue resisting.

mostly for the principle of it.

he presses a kiss to your cheek.

then another.

then one near your jaw.

he’s cheating.

he knows he’s cheating.

because the second he starts kissing on you, your attitude starts disappearing.

it’s not fair.

“you gotta stop doing that shit with your alarm,” you grumble. “it wakes me up. i just wanna sleep.”

“i know.”

“every morning.”

“i know.”

“it’s rude.”

he laughs softly.

“i said i’m sorry.”

you roll your eyes.

but you let him pull you into his chest anyway.

victim.

you are a victim.

he presses a kiss to your forehead and rubs slow circles along your back.

“come here.”

he kisses you slowly, deep and lazy, tongue sliding against yours like he’s trying to taste every complaint you had.

then he lays you back down on your side, pulling your back tight against his chest. his arm wraps around your waist, holding you close.

“i’ll put you right back to sleep,” he murmurs low in your ear.

he lifts the bottom of your night dress, bunching it up around your waist. his hand slides between your legs, fingers brushing against your bare pussy.

“no panties?” he asks, clearly pleased.

“she needs to breathe too,” you reply, a little smirk in your voice.

eren chuckles softly against your neck. “yeah? she needed to breathe or she just wanted me?”

his fingers find your clit and start rubbing slow, lazy circles. you whine, pushing back into his hand.

“eren…”

“what? i’m just helping you relax, baby.”

he keeps playing with you, fingers getting wetter the longer he touches you. you’re already breathing heavier, hips moving against his hand without you even meaning to.

he finally pulls his sweats down, freeing his dick. you lift your leg higher, opening up for him. he rubs the tip against your slick folds a few times, teasing.

“stop playing,” you mumble.

“i’m not playing,” he lies, voice smug. then he pushes in, slow and deep, stretching you open inch by inch.

you let out a long whine, eyes fluttering shut.

“fuck… you always feel so good.” he groans, burying his face in the back of your neck.

he starts thrusting into you, deep and unhurried.

every stroke drags against that spot that makes your toes curl. you lean back into his chest, moaning softly with every thrust.

“eren… shit—”

“yeah? feel good?” he asks, lips brushing your ear. he picks up the pace just a little, hips snapping harder. “talk to me, baby. tell me how it feels.”

“so deep,” you moan, pushing back to meet his thrusts. “feels so fucking good…”

he groans, tightening his arm around you. one hand slides up to cup your breast, thumb brushing over your nipple while he keeps fucking you steady.

“that’s my girl. let me hear all them pretty sounds.”

your moans get louder, breathier. the room fills with the soft sound of skin meeting skin and your desperate little whimpers.

eren keeps talking in your ear, low and filthy.

“you were mad at me five minutes ago… now look at you. taking this dick so good.”

“shut up,” you whine, but there’s no heat behind it. you’re too busy grinding back on him.

he laughs softly and bites down gently on your shoulder. “no. you like it when i talk to you like this.”

he angles his hips a little differently and hits that spot even better. your eyes roll back, mouth falling open in a silent moan.

“right there— eren, right there—”

“i got you, baby.”

he keeps that same perfect rhythm, thrusting deep and consistent, one hand between your legs rubbing your clit again. the pleasure builds slow and heavy, making your thighs shake.

“i’m close,” you whimper, gripping his arm tight. “eren, i’m so close—”

“good. don’t hold it. cum on this dick, baby. let me feel you.”

he doesn’t speed up. he just keeps fucking you deep and steady, whispering sweet shit in your ear until you finally snap.

you cum hard, moaning his name all broken and shaky, pussy clenching tight around him. eren groans loud, following right after you, burying himself deep as he fills you up.

once you both come down, breathing heavy and tangled together, you let out a big yawn, eyes already drooping again.

eren laughs quietly behind you, still inside you.

“you see? told you i would put you right back to sleep.”

“hush,” you mumble, voice sleepy and satisfied.

he kisses the back of your neck softly, rubbing slow circles on your stomach. you can already feel yourself drifting off, warm and full in his arms.

the only downside?

your feet were killing you.

those cute shoes had seemed like a great idea when you were getting ready. now, after hours of walking around the city, they felt more like a punishment.

by the time the three of you finally made it home, all you wanted to do was collapse onto the bed and never stand up again.

thankfully, you had two very attentive boyfriends.

the moment you stepped through the door, you let out an exhausted sigh.

“my feet are killing me,” you groan, dragging yourself toward your shared bedroom.

girl.

you don’t even make it all the way to the pillows before you’re flopping onto the edge of the bed dramatically.

ony laughs.

“see? i told you to wear the shoes i put in the car, but you’re stubborn.”

you roll your eyes.

“i wanted to look cute.”

“and now look at you.”

rude.

before you can argue, he’s already kneeling in front of you, carefully slipping your heels off.

the relief is immediate.

you nearly moan.

“oh my god.”

“yeah, yeah,” ony chuckles.

he presses a quick kiss to the side of your foot before starting to massage it.

and just like that?

you melt.

your entire body sinks into the mattress.

“better?” he asks.

you nod immediately.

“much better.”

connie climbs onto the bed beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

he presses a kiss to the side of your head.

“did you enjoy yourself?” he asks softly.

you smile.

“yeah.”

his grin widens.

“then that’s all that matters.”

and honestly?

you might cry.

because one boyfriend is rubbing all the pain out of your feet while the other is cuddled up beside you like you’re the most important person in the world.(you are)

life is good.

really, really good.

you glance down at ony.

he’s focused on your feet, but every now and then he looks up at you.

and the look he gives you?

oh.

then you turn your head slightly and catch connie staring too.

girl.

you know that look.

you know both of those looks.

the kind that immediately makes your stomach flip.

the kind that has you suddenly sitting a little straighter.

the kind that lets you know it’s probably about to be one of those nights.

and honestly?

you’re not complaining.

ony slowly kisses up your legs, soft and wet, taking his time like he’s worshipping every inch.

when he reaches your thighs he stands up, big hand wrapping around your throat as he pulls you in for a deep kiss. you lean back on your hands, kissing him back tongues sliding together.

then connie’s there, gentle but firm, helping you lay back on the bed properly.

the second your back hits the sheets he’s on you, kissing you slow and filthy while ony watches with a smirk on his lips.

when connie finally pulls back, the two of them look at each other for a second… then lean in and kiss right in front of you. deep. sloppy. tongues and everything.

god. this is the best thing you’ve ever seen.

you watch them closely, biting your lip. you love when they do this. the way they kiss each other always makes your pussy throb harder. you could watch them make out all damn day. when they finally pull back, both of them turn to look at you like you’re their next meal.

connie moves between your legs first, sliding your thong down your thighs and tossing it somewhere. ony helps peel your dress off, then your bra, the second you’re naked, connie spreads your legs wide and starts rubbing slow circles on your clit with his thumb.

“mmph— fuck, connie,” you whine, hips twitching already.

“feels good, huh baby?” he asks, voice low and teasing as he pushes two thick fingers inside you. your eyes roll back instantly. he starts thrusting them nice and deep, curling them just right while his thumb keeps playing with your clit.

“shit— right there,” you moan, grinding down on his hand you can’t help it.

ony leans down and wraps his mouth around your nipple, sucking hard while his hand massages the other one, pinching and rolling it between his fingers. the double sensation has you losing your mind.

connie’s fingers are working faster now, wet squelching sounds filling the room every time he pumps them in and out. “look at you… already creaming all over my fingers. this pussy is so greedy tonight.”

you’re moaning loud, legs starting to shake as he keeps hitting that spot over and over. ony bites down gently on your nipple and that’s all it takes.

“connie—! fuck— i’m cumming—”your whole body jerks as you cum hard, gushing all over his hand, thighs trembling uncontrollably. connie keeps fingering you through it milking every drop while you whimper and twitch.

when he finally pulls his fingers out, they’re soaked and shiny with your mess.

without a word he brings them to ony’s mouth. ony opens up and sucks them clean, eyes locked on yours the whole time, moaning low your taste is his favorite thing.

“taste so good, don’t she?” connie asks, smirking.

ony pulls off his fingers with a wet pop.

“you know it”

you’re still trying to catch your breath, pussy pulsing, when both of them look down at you again… and you already know they’re nowhere near done with you tonight.

they both finally pull back from you, eyes dark and hungry. you’re still trying to catch your breath when they stand up at the same time, stripping slow just for you. ony pulls his shirt over his head first, then connie.

both of them peeling off their pants, dicks hard and heavy, standing there looking like straight-up trouble.

god… look at them. both so fine it should be illegal. your mouth is already watering.

you slide off the bed and drop to your knees in front of them, but before you can even get started, connie holds up a hand.

“wait, baby.” he grabs a pillow from the bed and drops it right under your knees, fluffing it a little. “can’t have my pretty girl hurting her knees.”

“thank you,” you murmur, smiling up at him.

“i gotta make sure you comfortable,” he says soft, rubbing your cheek with his thumb.

now you’re settled. you reach for both of them, wrapping a hand around each dick, stroking slow at first. you start with connie, taking him into your mouth while you keep stroking ony.

you suck him nasty sloppy, wet, tongue swirling around the tip before you take him deeper, gagging a little just how he likes.

“fuck… that’s it, baby. suck that dick just like that,” connie groans, hand gently resting on the back of your head.

you pull off with a wet pop and switch to ony, taking him down your throat while your hand works connie. you go back and forth spit dripping down your chin, eyes watering as you look up at both of them. the sounds are filthy loud slurping, gagging, your soft moans vibrating around their dicks.

“shit, look at her,” ony mutters, biting his lip. “taking both of us so good. you love this, don’t you?”

“mm-hmm,” you moan around ony’s dick, switching again, jerking one while you slobber on the other.

it gets real sloppy real quick. spit everywhere, dripping down your chest, strings connecting your lips to their dicks every time you pull back.

you’re loving every second, switching faster, trying to take both heads at the same time, licking and sucking like you can’t get enough.

“good fucking girl,” connie praises, voice rough. “you so nasty for us tonight. keep going, baby. make a mess.”

you do. you’re moaning, choking, drooling all over them until both their dicks and your chin are shiny and wet.

eventually they both stop you, breathing hard.

they help you stand on shaky legs, both of them still breathing hard.

ony doesn’t even give you a second to think before he grabs the back of your thighs and lifts you clean off the floor like you weigh nothing.

you wrap your legs tight around his waist, arms around his neck, heart pounding in your chest as you face him.

connie presses up behind you, chest warm against your back, helping hold you steady between them.

“you ready, baby?” connie asks, voice low and thick in your ear, lips brushing your neck.

“yeah… i’m ready,” you whisper, even though your stomach is flipping with nerves and excitement.

ony lines his thick tip up with your soaked pussy and slowly pushes in, stretching you open inch by inch. you moan loud, nails digging into his shoulders as he fills you up.

“fuck…” you breathe, forehead pressed against his.

then you feel connie behind you, rubbing his dick against your ass, spreading your cheeks. he starts pressing in slow, so fucking slow, the pressure intense as he works his way inside.

“oh my god—” your eyes go wide, mouth falling open. the fullness is insane. both of them inside you at the same time, stretching you more than you’ve ever felt before. you can barely breathe, pussy and ass clenching around them like crazy.

“breathe, baby,” ony murmurs, kissing your lips soft and deep. “you doing so good for us. just relax… let us take care of you.”

connie kisses the side of your neck, voice rough. “that’s it, ma. take both these dicks. you feel so fucking good squeezing us like that.”

they stay still for a moment, letting you adjust to the overwhelming stretch. you’re trembling between them, whimpering softly every time either of them twitches inside you. it feels like too much and not enough all at once.

then they start moving.

slow and careful at first — ony rolling his hips up into your pussy while connie thrusts gentle and deep into your ass. the rhythm is perfect, like they’ve done this a hundred times. every stroke makes you feel so full you swear you can feel them rubbing against each other inside you.

“fuck so deep,” you whimper, head falling forward onto ony’s shoulder. your nails are digging into his back, legs shaking around his waist.

“you taking it so good, baby,” ony groans, kissing you sloppy, tongue sliding against yours while he fucks up into you a little harder.

“look at you… creaming all over my dick already. making such a mess for us.”

connie smacks your ass, gripping it tight as he starts stroking deeper.

you squeezing me so good,baby. you love getting stuffed like this, don’t you? love having both your holes filled?”

“yes— fuck yes—” you sob, turning your head to kiss connie messy and desperate over your shoulder. the pleasure is building fast, your body caught between them, bouncing slightly every time they thrust up into you.

your moans get louder, turning into broken whines and sobs. you’re creaming so much it’s dripping down ony’s dick and your thighs, making everything wet and nasty. the sound of skin slapping, your slick pussy, and their low groans fills the whole room.

they pick up the pace, fucking you harder, bouncing you between their bodies like you’re their favorite toy. ony chokes you lightly with one hand while kissing you deep. connie reaches around and rubs your clit in tight circles, making your eyes roll back.

you’ve never felt anything like this. so full. so wanted. so fucking ruined.

“i’m— i’m gonna cum—!” you cry out, voice shaking.

“cum then,” ony growls against your lips, tightening his grip on your throat just right. “cum all over us, baby. let us feel it.”

“be a good girl and squirt for us,” connie adds, biting your shoulder while he keeps rubbing your clit faster.

it hits you like a truck.

your whole body locks up tight before you start shaking hard, squirting all over ony’s dick and stomach while your ass clenches around connie. you’re sobbing, moaning their names, completely lost in it.

that’s all it takes.

“fuck— i’m cumming,” connie groans, burying himself deep in your ass, pumping you full.

ony follows right after, groaning loud into your mouth as he fills your pussy with thick, hot spurts. both of them cumming at the same time, holding you tight between them while you twitch and whimper through the aftershocks.

you’re panting hard when it finally slows down, body limp and sweaty, head resting on ony’s shoulder. they stay inside you for a little longer, kissing you softly on your lips, neck, and shoulders, whispering sweet nasty praises.

“you did so good, baby.”

“our perfect girl.”

your legs are still trembling bad when they finally pull out carefully and gently lay you back down on the bed.

you’re exhausted… but floating.

you’re his whole world. like genuinely. there’s no version of his life that doesn’t include you in it, front and center. everything else just kinda… revolves around you.

so when you casually mention you wanna buy ingredients to makes cookies, he’s already nodding before you even finish your sentence.

because obviously.

whatever you want goes.

the grocery store is busy, music playing way too loud, people everywhere, and yet connie’s acting like it’s just the two of you. cart in one hand, your hand in the other, thumb rubbing slow circles.

you’re rambling about recipes, about how you wanna do chocolate chip and sugar cookies, maybe even brownies if you feel ambitious. he’s listening actually listening eyes soft, smiling like he won the lottery just standing next to you.

“okay, so—” you stop in the baking aisle, holding up two different cookie cutters. “should we get this one or this one?”

he doesn’t even look at the cutters at first. he’s just… looking at you.

and it makes you smile shyly, a little nervous, because damn, why is he staring like that in the middle of a grocery store?

“get both,” he says easily.

you blink. “you sure?”

“yeah,” he nods, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “why not?”

you laugh, tossing them into the cart, and he swears his chest feels tight just hearing that sound.

if you wanted the moon, he’d be googling how to get there already.

you guys finally finish shopping and that’s when you spot them matching pajamas. your eyes light up.

“connie, look!” you gasp, already dragging him by the arm before he can even respond. he just laughs, letting you pull him through the store. he doesn’t care what it is, as long as you’re excited and it’s with him, his heart is stupidly full.

you grab the cutest set soft, silky, matching little shorts and button-ups with tiny hearts all over them. you hold them up to his chest, grinning.

“we’re getting these. matching. no excuses.”

“whatever you want, baby,” he says

when you finally get home, you disappear into the bathroom to change first. the set feels even cuter on. you step out, doing a little twirl in the middle of the bedroom.

“how do i look?” you ask, smiling big.

connie is sitting on the edge of the bed and the second his eyes land on you… whew. his whole face changes. eyes low, dragging slow down your body, from your legs to the way the shorts hug your ass, back up to your chest, then your face. he licks his lips without even realizing it.

“damn…” he mutters, voice low. “you look so good, baby.”

he’s not lying. to him you’re the most beautiful woman in the world and right now? he’s looking at you like he can’t believe you’re real. like he wants to eat you up and cuddle you at the same time.

you feel the butterflies explode in your stomach. this man really stares at you like you’re his favorite meal every single time.

“you like it that much?” you tease, doing another little spin.

connie leans back on his hands, biting his lip as his eyes follow every move.

“i love it. c’mere,” he says, voice dropping even lower.

you already know what that look means. he’s not just admiring the pajamas… he’s thinking about how fast he can get them off you later.

and honestly? the way he’s staring at you right now… you might let him.

as you guys start baking the cookies, connie can’t keep his hands off you. not even for two seconds.

his hands are glued to your hips while you’re at the counter trying to stir the batter. he’s pressed up behind you, lips all over your neck like that’s his actual job. soft kisses at first, then slower, wetter ones that make your knees feel weak.

you’re gripping the spoon tighter, trying so hard to focus. “connie…” you giggle, breath already shaky. “stop, we’re supposed to be baking.”

he hums against your skin, not moving an inch. “mm, i know baby,” he murmurs, voice low and sweet, “but you look so good right now. i can’t help it.”

mind you this man is supposed to be helping. he’s supposed to be measuring shit or cracking eggs or something. instead he’s kissing all up on your neck, hands sliding around your waist, pulling you back against him every time you try to stir.

you’re forgetting what you’re even doing. the batter? what batter. all you can feel is his mouth and the way he’s looking at you like you’re sweeter than anything you’re about to put in the oven.

“connie, i swear—” you laugh, trying to elbow him gently, but it’s useless. he just chuckles and turns you around in his arms, eyes low and full of that lovesick look he always gives you.

“what? i’m helping,” he lies, grinning before leaning in to kiss you properly.

you already know baking these cookies is about to take three times longer than it should. but with the way he’s staring at you… hands still gripping your hips… you’re not even mad.

this man really loves his girlfriend. and right now? he loves her in an apron even more.

you guys finally finish with the cookies. they’re finally in the oven after way too much kissing and not nearly enough actual baking. you now have fresh hickeys all over your neck because connie literally cannot keep his lips to himself.

you stand in front of the bathroom mirror, turning your head side to side with a shocked expression.

“seriously, con?” you whine, touching the marks. “you know i have work! and now i got hickeys all over my damn neck.”

connie appears behind you in the mirror, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you back against his chest. he doesn’t even look sorry. he just leans in and kisses the side of your neck, right on top of one of the marks he left.

“sorry baby,” he murmurs against your skin, voice all sweet and low. “i’ll make it up to you, aight? i promise.”

he thinks kissing you is gonna fix everything. and the crazy part? it kinda does. you’re still mad… but melting at the same time.

you glare at him through the mirror. “you gotta stop playing with me. i can’t be showing up to work looking like i got attacked.”

he chuckles and kisses your neck again, slower this time, like he’s proud of his work. “you look good though. real good.”

“connie.”

“what? i’m just saying,” he grins, eyes low as he stares at you in the mirror. “my girlfriend too fine to not get kissed on.”

you sigh, trying to look annoyed but your stupid heart is doing flips. he’s lucky you love his ass.

remember the cookies you were supposed to be making? yeah… those are long forgotten.

because right now connie has you spread out on the couch like his personal feast. your legs are thrown over his shoulders, thighs trembling as he kneels between them. he’s taking his sweet time, and this man is straight up worshipping your pussy.

he starts with slow, messy kisses all over your inner thighs, sucking gently on the soft skin before dragging his tongue up to your folds.

when he finally reaches your clit, he moans like he just tasted heaven.

“fuck… look at her,” he whispers, voice thick with lust. “so pretty and wet for me already.”

then his mouth is on you. warm. sloppy. devoted. he licks long, slow stripes up your pussy, savoring every drop like he’s got all night. his tongue circles your clit before he wraps his lips around it and sucks gently, then harder, then soft again switching it up just to drive you crazy.

you’re already whimpering, hips twitching.

“connie…” you breathe, trying to grind against his face, but he grips your thighs and holds you still.

“nah, baby. let me eat this pussy right,” he murmurs against your slick folds. “you deserve it.”

he pushes his tongue inside you, fucking you with it slow and deep while his nose rubs against your clit. the wet sounds are filthy loud slurping mixed with his low groans. he’s lost in it, eyes closed, face buried so deep you’re not sure he can even breathe. and he doesn’t care.

your hand flies to his hair, gripping tight as your moans get louder.

he slides two thick fingers into you without warning, curling them perfectly against that spongy spot while his mouth focuses back on your swollen clit. sucking. licking. humming. the vibrations make your eyes roll back.

“oh my god— connie, baby— fuck…”

you’re grinding on his face now, chasing the pleasure, and he lets you. he moans louder into your pussy, encouraging you, sucking harder like he wants you to use him. his fingers thrust deeper, steady and nasty, making wet squelching sounds every time he pushes back in.

tears are already forming in your eyes. it feels too good. your thighs won’t stop shaking.

“i can’t— it’s too much—” you sob, voice cracking.

but connie doesn’t stop. if anything, he gets more greedy. he pulls his fingers out for a second just to spread your pussy open with both hands and spit on it before diving back in, tongue flicking fast on your clit while he slides two three fingers inside this time.

your back arches clean off the couch.

“connie—! fuck— i’m— oh shit—”

you’re crying now. actual tears sliding down your cheeks because the pleasure is overwhelming. he’s sucking your clit so good, fingers stroking that spot over and over, and you feel like you’re about to explode.

“that’s it, baby,” he groans into your pussy, voice muffled and nasty.

your whole body locks up. the orgasm crashes into you hard, making you sob and shake uncontrollably. you’re creaming all over his fingers, gushing on his tongue while he keeps eating you through it, licking up every drop like he’s starving. he doesn’t pull away. he stays right there, sucking softly, fingers still moving slow until you’re twitching and whimpering, completely ruined.

when he finally lifts his head, his face is soaked — lips shiny, chin dripping, eyes dark and drunk off you.

you’re still sobbing softly, chest heaving, legs shaking around his head. he kisses your throbbing pussy one last time, gentle and reverent, then rests his cheek on your thigh, looking up at you with pure adoration.

“you okay, baby?” he asks, voice low and soft, even while his face is covered in your mess.

you can’t even speak. you just nod weakly, tears still slipping out the corners of your eyes.

connie smiles, proud and lovesick, and presses another soft kiss to your clit.

“good. ‘cause i’m nowhere near done with you.”

you sit up, push him gently in the chest until he drops back onto the couch. without saying a word you reach for his pajama pants, yanking them down. his dick springs out, hard and heavy, already leaking at the tip. you wrap your hand around him, stroking slow and tight, watching the way his abs flex and his mouth falls open.

“fuck, baby…” he groans, head falling back for a second.

you turn around, back facing him, and line him up with your soaked pussy. you sink down slowly, inch by inch, moaning loud as he stretches you open. the angle is so deep it makes your toes curl immediately.

“shit— that’s it,” connie breathes, hands gripping your waist tight. “take all this dick, baby. look at you… creaming on me already.”

you start bouncing, slow at first, then faster, throwing your ass back on him. the sound of skin slapping fills the room — wet, nasty, loud. every time you drop down, he fills you completely, hitting that spot that makes your eyes roll back.

“connie— fuck—” you whine, hands planted on his thighs for leverage as you ride him harder.

he smacks your ass hard, groaning deep in his chest. “goddamn, you feel so good. this pussy so wet and tight for me… keep bouncing just like that, ma. fuck me back.”

you’re creaming all over his dick, dripping down his balls with every bounce. your eyes keep rolling, mouth hanging open, moans getting louder and sluttier. connie’s hands are everywhere gripping your hips, smacking your ass, then sliding up to wrap around your throat from behind.

he pulls you back against his chest, choking you just right while you keep riding him. his lips are right by your ear, voice low and raspy.

“you riding this dick so good, baby. my perfect girl”

the choking mixed with the praise has your head spinning. you’re grinding and bouncing faster, pussy squeezing him tight. connie’s groaning in your ear, hips thrusting up to meet you, making it even deeper.

but then he suddenly lifts you off him. you barely have time to whine at the emptiness before he lays you on your back and folds you clean in half. knees pushed all the way to your chest in a tight mating press. he slides back inside you in one smooth, deep stroke.

“oh my god—” you cry out.

connie doesn’t waste time. he starts thrusting hard, deep, and nasty. the position lets him hit so deep it feels like he’s in your stomach. every stroke is long and powerful, his heavy balls slapping against your ass.

“this what you needed, huh?” he groans, staring down at you with dark, loving eyes. one hand wraps around your throat again, squeezing while he kisses you filthy — tongue and all. “my baby likes when i fold her up and fuck her stupid?”

you’re sobbing and moaning into his mouth, completely overwhelmed. the pleasure is insane. he’s pounding into you so good your pussy is making the wettest sounds you’ve ever heard. he keeps praising you between kisses, voice rough:

“you’re so fucking pretty when you take this dick… that’s my good girl. let me feel you squirt on me, baby. i know you can.”

his strokes get faster, deeper, more aggressive. the hand around your throat tightens just enough to make your eyes flutter. you’re creaming so much it’s dripping everywhere, soaking the couch.

“connie—! i’m— fuck— i’m gonna—”

“do it,” he growls, kissing you again, biting your lip. “cum on this dick. squirt for me, baby. let it all go.”

it hits you like a wave. your whole body locks up then explodes — you squirt hard all over his dick and stomach, soaking him while you moan his name. your pussy clenches and pulses around him like crazy.

connie groans loud, hips stuttering. “that’s it— fuck, i’m cumming too—”

he buries himself deep and cums with you, groaning into your mouth as he fills you up. thick, hot spurts painting your walls while your pussy keeps milking him.

both of you shaking, moaning, riding it out together until you’re both spent and trembling.

he stays inside you for a long moment, forehead pressed against yours, breathing hard. then he kisses you soft and slow, thumb gently rubbing your throat where he choked you.

“i love you so fucking much,” he whispers against your lips, still buried deep. “best pussy in the world… my pretty girl.”

you’re completely fucked out, legs still folded, body twitching with aftershocks… and this man is looking at you like he’s ready to go again.

connie leans in, forehead still pressed to yours, and kisses you deep and slow. you melt into it, hands cupping his face, tasting yourself on his tongue while he’s still buried inside you.

then—

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

the fire alarm starts screaming through the whole apartment.

you both freeze mid-kiss. eyes wide open. lips still touching.

“…the cookies,” you whisper against his mouth.

connie pulls back just enough to look at you, face blank for a second before reality hits.

“shit.”

you stare at each other like two kids who just got caught. him still balls deep, you folded like a pretzel, pussy still twitching around him… and the damn cookies are burning to a crisp in the oven.

a beat of silence.

then you both start laughing. loud. breathless. stupid.

“i knew we should’ve took them out,” you groan, covering your face while still giggling.

connie just shakes his head, smirking as he finally pulls out of you. “my bad, baby.”

he gives your thigh a little smack and stands up as you both rush (naked and messy) toward the kitchen like it’s a national emergency.

the cookies? completely burnt. smoke everywhere.

so now you’re stuck scrolling, giggling into the pillow trying not to wake him.

next to you, connie shifts in his sleep, mumbling something incoherent before rolling over.

you think he’s still asleep.

he’s not.

one eye cracks open, squinting at the light hitting his face.

“baby… why aren’t you asleep?” he asks, voice confused.

you pause the video, turning toward him. “i couldn’t sleep.”

he slowly pushes himself up, hair messy, eyes heavy with sleep as he stares at you like you just personally betrayed him.

“couldn’t sleep?” he repeats.

you nod, already smiling because you know that look.

he frowns.

like… really frowns.

his brows pull together, lips pushing into a pout.

“…i didn’t do a good job?” he asks quietly.

you blink. “what?”

he sits up more now, looking genuinely stressed.

“i didn’t fuck you good?” he says, offended. “cause usually you be knocked out. now you wide awake laughing at tiktoks like i ain’t just put in work.”

he sits up more now, blanket sliding down his chest, looking genuinely concerned.

“like be honest,” he says, rubbing his face. “i thought i put you to sleep.”

you stare at him for half a second before bursting into laughter.

“connie—”

“nah i’m serious,” he interrupts, pouting now. “usually you be sleep right after. you laughing and shit like i ain’t just put in work.”

you laugh harder, grabbing his arm. “baby, relax!”

he flops back onto the pillow dramatically, staring at the ceiling like his life just fell apart. “damn. i’m losing my touch.”

“you are so dramatic,” you giggle, scooting closer to him.

he side-eyes you suspiciously. “so… i did put it down on you?”

you roll your eyes, poking his cheek. “yes, you did.”

his pout disappears instantly.

“aight,” he nods seriously. “just checking.”

you shake your head, still smiling, and he pulls you against his chest, wrapping an arm around you like he’s reclaiming property.

“put the phone down,” he mumbles, already half asleep again. “come here.”

you rest your head against him, his heartbeat slow and warm under your ear.

there’s silence for like… five seconds.

then—

“…can i eat it?” he adds sleepily.

you snort so loud you almost fall off him. “go to sleep, connie.”

he hums, unfazed, squeezing you tighter. “worth a try.”

you laugh into his chest.

“love you,” he mumbles, words slurring as sleep pulls him under again.

and within seconds, he’s knocked out.

you glance at your phone one last time before switching it off, the room going dark except for the faint streetlight slipping through the curtains.

because no matter how logical the divorce was, it didn’t make missing you any easier.

he misses the little things the most.

living in the same house as you. waking up in the morning and hearing you already moving around the kitchen. the quiet smile you’d give him when you noticed he was watching you from the doorway. the way you’d mumble at him to stop staring so early in the morning.

he misses falling asleep next to you.

he misses the comfort of knowing you were always just a room away.

and the worst part?

you gave him the most beautiful girls he’s ever laid eyes on.

every time he looks at them, he sees pieces of you. the shape of their smiles. the way their eyes crinkle when they laugh. little reminders of the life you two built together.

how the hell is he supposed to function without you?

sometimes he almost wishes the divorce ended badly.

that you screamed at him.

that you hated him.

because maybe then it would’ve been easier to let go.

but it didn’t end like that.

no shouting.

no slammed doors.

no ugly words.

just two people who loved each other… realizing love alone wasn’t enough anymore.

and somehow that makes it so much harder to move on.

because you’re still you.

still the woman he fell in love with.

still the mother of his daughters.

still the person his heart reaches for out of habit… even when you’re no longer there.

he pulls up to the house to pick up the girls.

and of course… his heart does that little thing.

that stupid little jump in his chest he still hasn’t been able to control, no matter how many times he tells himself to act normal.

it’s just a visit.

just picking up his daughters.

nothing more.

still… he takes a breath before getting out the car.

when he knocks on the door, he’s already bracing himself.

but the second it opens—

there you are.

and wow.

you look beautiful.

like… the kind of beautiful that knocks the air straight out of his lungs. he actually feels a little lightheaded for a second, like his brain forgot how to function.

you smile when you see him.

“hey.”

you lean forward and hug him, and he’s so damn grateful that it’s still something you two do.

“hey,” he says softly, his arms wrapping around you without even thinking.

for a second he just… holds you.

and god, you smell so good.

the same scent you’ve always worn. warm and familiar and dangerously comforting. it almost makes him close his eyes.

then you pull away.

“i’m just finishing up with the girls,” you say. “come in.”

he nods, stepping inside while you walk back into the house.

and he swears he didn’t mean to look.

he really didn’t.

but damn.

the shorts you’re wearing hug your hips perfectly, and when you walk away your ass

he almost groans.

that used to be his.

the thought hits him so fast it almost hurts.

he clears his throat, dragging a hand down his face like maybe that’ll knock some sense back into him.

god.

why does this still affect him like this?

“girls!” you call out from down the hall. “daddy’s here!”

immediately there’s squealing.

little footsteps pounding across the floor as the twins come running full speed.

“daddy!!”

onyankopon barely has time to brace himself before they jump into him, wrapping their little arms around his waist.

he laughs, bending down to scoop them up.

“hey, hey, look at y’all,” he says, hugging them tight. “miss me already?”

they nod dramatically, talking over each other as they cling to him.

and when he glances up—

you’re standing there watching them.

smiling.

soft.

fond.

like this little moment still belongs to both of you.

and for a second…

it almost feels like nothing ever changed.

now you would be lying if you said you didn’t miss onyankopon’s fine ass.

because you do.

and honestly? you feel like he somehow got even hotter after the divorce, which shouldn’t even be possible but apparently life likes to play jokes like that.

something about him now… the way he carries himself, the way he looks at you when he thinks you’re not paying attention.

you notice it.

of course you notice it.

the lingering looks.

the way his eyes soften when you smile.

the way he still stands a little too close when he talks to you.

and you try to ignore it.

lowkey.

because if you think about it too much your brain starts going places it really shouldn’t.

but the thing is…

he never stopped doing the little things.

like sending you your favorite flowers out of nowhere.

or picking you up from girls’ night because he “just happened to be in the area.”

you know that man does not just happen to be anywhere.

he be planning that shit.

and every time it happens you try to act normal but it makes you giggle so much.

it’s stupid.

stupid and sweet.

and honestly… you’re grateful.

because if there’s one thing about onyankopon, it’s that he’s an amazing dad.

seeing him with your daughters warms your heart every single time.

the way he listens to them like everything they say matters.(it does)

the way he carries them around like they weigh nothing.

the way he never misses a chance to show up for them.

it reminds you of why you fell in love with him in the first place.

but he’s also real sneaky.

because every now and then he’ll casually ask the girls questions.

“your mama seeing anybody?”

“anyone taking her on dates?”

like he thinks they’re not immediately gonna run back and repeat that to you word for word.

and the truth is…

no.

there’s nobody taking you on dates.

there hasn’t been.

because if you’re being honest with yourself, there’s only ever really been him.

but admitting that feels complicated.

because you’re divorced now.

and the divorce happened for a reason.

it was the right decision.

you both agreed on that.

still…

that doesn’t stop you from missing him.

and sometimes when he looks at you the way he used to…

you can’t help but wonder if he misses you just as much.

well now you’re both at the aquarium.

why?

because your precious daughters begged to go, and honestly you can never say no to them.

it wouldn’t be the first time you and onyankopon had done things together as a family after the divorce. you both agreed that no matter what happened between you two, your girls deserved memories with both their parents.

so here you are.

walking through the huge glass tunnels while fish glide over your heads.

the girls are losing their minds.

“look mommy!!” one of them squeals, pressing her little hands against the glass. “that one is HUGE!”

ony laughs beside you. “that’s not huge, baby. wait until you see the sharks.”

both girls gasp dramatically.

“SHARKS???”

you laugh softly, watching them run ahead to the next tank.

and for a moment… it feels normal.

like old times.

but then you notice it.

onyankopon.

he’s too close.

not obvious enough for anyone to call it out, but definitely close enough that you feel the warmth from his arm every time you stop walking.

he leans slightly toward the glass.

“yo, look at that one.”

you squint. “which one?”

“right there.”

“…ony there are like fifty fish in this tank.”

he chuckles.

“nah, the blue one.”

you lean closer to the glass, confused, trying to figure out what he’s pointing at.

“i literally do not see—”

suddenly he steps right behind you.

close.

too close.

his chest almost brushing your back as his arm comes up beside you, pointing directly at the glass.

“that one.”

your breath hitches before you can stop it.

oh.

now you see it.

but honestly you’re not even looking at the fish anymore.

you’re too aware of how close he is.

the warmth of him.

the way his voice dropped a little when he leaned in.

you swallow, stepping forward a little.

“oh,” you mumble. “yeah… i see it.”

he hums behind you like he knows exactly what he just did.

and the worst part?

you let him.

because if you’re being honest…

you kind of wanted him to.

eventually the day continues.

the girls drag both of you around the entire aquarium, running from tank to tank like they’re on a mission.

you all end up laughing, taking pictures, arguing over which fish is the cutest.

later you all sit down at a little café inside the aquarium to eat.

the girls are talking over each other about dolphins and sharks while you try to keep them from spilling their drinks.

ony sits across from you, watching.

quiet.

soft smile on his face.

“mommy mommy,” one of the girls says, “daddy said sharks can smell one drop of blood from like… really far away!”

you raise an eyebrow at him.

“why would you tell them that?”

he shrugs. “it’s educational.”

“they’re gonna start crying in the bathtub tonight.”

“they’ll be fine.”

you roll your eyes, taking a bite of your food.

ony suddenly speaks again.

“you wanna try this?”

you glance up.

“what is it?”

“some shrimp thing.”

you shrug. “sure.”

you expect him to slide the plate toward you.

instead—

he picks up his fork.

and holds it toward you.

you blink.

“…ony.”

he just raises an eyebrow like it’s completely normal.

“what?”

you look at the girls.

they’re too busy arguing about jellyfish to notice.

you sigh.

“…you’re annoying.”

but you lean forward anyway and take the bite.

his eyes stay on you the whole time.

watching.

like he’s studying every little reaction on your face.

you chew.

“…okay wait that’s actually good.”

he grins.

you shake your head, trying to ignore the warmth creeping up your neck.

meanwhile he’s just watching you interact with the girls.

the way you wipe their mouths.

the way you laugh when they say something ridiculous.

and the feeling in his chest?

it’s heavy.

full.

like love that never went anywhere.

he honestly doesn’t know what he would do without the three of you.

by the time you leave the aquarium the sky is dark.

and suddenly—

rain.

heavy.

“oh hell nah,” you mutter.

the girls laugh while you rush them to the car.

by the time you get home they’re exhausted.

the aquarium plus the sugar plus the excitement completely knocked them out.

you tuck them into bed while ony helps change them into pajamas.

within minutes they’re asleep.

the house finally quiets.

you walk back into the living room and notice the rain hitting the windows harder now.

ony stands near the door, keys in his hand.

you glance outside.

“…you know you can wait until the rain slows down.”

he pauses.

“you sure?”

you shrug, trying to act casual.

“yeah. it’s pouring.”

he nods slowly.

“aight.”

you walk toward the couch.

“you wanna watch a movie or something?”

he smirks slightly.

“depends.”

you narrow your eyes.

“on what?”

“you picking something good.”

you scoff.

“wow.”

“i’m just saying, last time you picked that sad movie and had everybody crying.”

“it was a good movie!”

“you traumatized the kids.”

you laugh, grabbing the remote.

“they were fine.”

you sit on the couch and he sits beside you.

not super close.

but not far either.

the rain taps against the windows.

the room lit softly by the tv screen.

you scroll through movies while he leans back into the couch.

after a moment he glances at you.

“…you had fun today?”

you look over at him.

soft smile.

“yeah.”

a pause.

“the girls definitely did.”

he nods.

“yeah.”

another quiet moment settles between you.

the kind that feels heavy but comfortable.

then he looks at you again.

“…you look happy today.”

you blink.

“…what?”

he shrugs slightly.

“just saying.”

you stare at the tv again, trying to ignore the way your heart just did a weird little flip.

“you’re weird.”

he chuckles quietly.

but his eyes linger on you just a second longer than they should.

and the tension between you?

yeah.

it’s still very much there.

you guys end up watching the notebook (ony’s idea), which is honestly crazy because you both loved that movie. you’re halfway through it, the room quiet except for the tv, when ony suddenly grabs your attention.

“you remember what today is?”

you freeze a little.

you had been avoiding this day if you’re being honest. trying to act like it didn’t exist, like the date wasn’t sitting in the back of your mind all week.

you sigh softly.

“yeah,” you murmur. “our anniversary.”

today would’ve been eight years.

two years dating. five years married.

then… the divorce.

crazy how life works, right? because today would’ve looked so different if things had gone another way.

ony nods slowly, eyes still on the tv even though he’s clearly not watching it anymore.

“eight years,” he repeats quietly. “that’s… a long time.”

the silence stretches between you two.

then he looks over at you.

“do you miss it?” he asks.

you blink.

“miss what?”

he swallows.

“us.”

your chest tightens.

“ony—”

“just answer me,” he says softly. “please.”

you don’t say anything right away.

and before you can, he lets out a shaky breath.

“i’ll tell you first.”

he shifts on the couch, turning his body toward you completely now.

“i miss you,” he says.

his voice is quiet, but it feels heavy in the room.

“i miss you so much it actually hurts sometimes.”

your heart drops.

“i miss waking up next to you. i miss the way you used to steal the blankets and then pretend you didn’t. i miss the way you used to talk in your sleep.” he lets out a small laugh that quickly fades. “i miss coming home and hearing your voice in the house.”

he looks down at his hands.

“i miss our family.”

your eyes start burning.

“and i know what you’re probably gonna say,” he continues. “that maybe it was for the better. that maybe things had to end the way they did.”

he shakes his head slowly.

“but i regret it.”

his voice cracks slightly.

“every single day.”

he reaches over, taking your hand in his.

“i regret every argument where i chose pride instead of choosing you. every moment where i thought we had more time to fix things. every night i went to sleep angry instead of pulling you close and just… loving you.”

tears start sliding down your cheeks.

ony’s thumb rubs softly over your hand.

“do you know what the worst part is?” he asks quietly.

you shake your head.

“pretending i’m okay without you.”

he lets out a weak laugh.

“everyone thinks i moved on. everyone thinks i’m fine.”

he looks up at you again, eyes glossy.

“but i’m not.”

your breathing becomes uneven.

“i’m not fine without you. i’ve never been fine without you.”

his grip on your hand tightens slightly.

“i tried, you know. i tried to convince myself that what we had wasn’t that special. that maybe one day i’d meet someone else and it would feel the same.”

he shakes his head again.

“but it doesn’t. it never does.”

his voice drops softer.

“because the love i had with you… i don’t think that kind of love happens twice.”

your tears fall faster now.

“you gave me everything,” he continues. “you gave me a home. you gave me memories i’ll carry for the rest of my life. you gave me our daughters.”

his voice breaks.

“the most beautiful girls in the world.”

he squeezes his eyes shut for a second before looking at you again.

“and i lost you.”

you try to speak, but nothing comes out.

“i should’ve fought harder,” he whispers. “for us. for our love. for our marriage.”

his thumb brushes away one of your tears.

“because you were never just my wife.”

he pauses.

“you were my person.”

your chest feels like it’s breaking open.

“you still are.”

the room is so quiet you can hear both of your breathing.

“i love you,” he says softly.

his voice is steady now, like he’s finally letting everything out.

“i loved you then. i love you now. and i’ll love you for the rest of my life.”

another tear slips down your cheek.

“in whatever universe exists… in whatever lifetime we get… i’ll always find my way back to you.”

his forehead lowers slightly toward yours.

“because you’re it for me.”

your lips tremble.

“you’re the love of my life.”

your voice finally comes out, barely above a whisper.

“ony…”

you shake your head a little, overwhelmed.

“i…”

you swallow hard.

“i love you.”

before you can say anything else, ony pulls you into a kiss.

it’s soft at first.

hesitant.

like he’s scared you might disappear.

but when you kiss him back, really kiss him back, the years of distance between you both disappear all at once.

when he pulls away slightly, his forehead rests against yours.

his hand gently cups your cheek.

“you don’t have to explain it, baby.”

his thumb brushes your tear-streaked skin.

“i feel it too.”

you lean forward again, chasing his lips, kissing him like you’ve both been holding it in for year slow at first, then desperate, tongues sliding, breaths mingling like you’re trying to pour every missed second back into each other.

his hands cradle your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks, wiping away the dampness.

when he finally pulls back just enough to breathe, his forehead rests against yours, eyes searching, soft and scared all at once.

“i don’t wanna rush you into anything,” he whispers,, thumb tracing your bottom lip.

you shake your head, fingers curling into his shirt, tugging him closer. “i want you,” you say, soft but sure, voice trembling just a little.

his breath catches. something raw flickers in his eyes relief, guilt, love, all tangled up. he lifts you like you weigh nothing,he kicks the bedroom door open gently, lays you back on the bed.he chases your lips again, kissing you deep, languid, like he’s memorizing every taste, every sigh. his hands roam down your sides, under your shirt, peeling it off with reverence, kissing the newly bared skin as it’s revealed collarbone, the dip between your breasts, the soft plane of your stomach.

when he reaches the waistband of your leggings, he pauses, looking up at you. his eyes are dark, pupils blown, but there’s so much tenderness there it makes your chest ache.

you nod, heart hammering. he slides them down with your panties in one slow drag, letting his fingertips trail the entire length of your legs, raising goosebumps. then he’s between your thighs, spreading you open gently, thumbs brushing the sensitive skin at the crease of your hips. he just looks for a second eyes tracing every inch like he’s seeing you for the first time in years.

“still the prettiest thing i’ve ever seen,” he murmurs, almost to himself, before leaning in.

his mouth is warm, soft at first lips brushing your clit in a feather-light kiss that makes you gasp. then he sucks gentle, slow pulls that have your hips lifting off the bed. his tongue circles lazy, deliberate, tasting you like he’s savoring every drop.

two thick fingers slide inside, curling just right, pumping slow while his tongue works your clit in steady, unrelenting strokes.

you’re creaming almost immediately thick, white, coating his fingers. your thighs tremble, breath coming in short, broken whimpers. “ony—” his name leaves you like a plea, fingers threading into his hair, holding him there.

“that’s it, baby,” he murmurs against your pussy, voice muffled.

he doesn’t rush. he takes his time sucking, licking, curling his fingers deeper, finding that spot that makes your back arch and your toes curl. your moans turn into soft sobs, pleasure building slow and overwhelming until it crashes over you.

you cum hard pussy pulsing around his fingers, wetness flooding his mouth, thighs shaking. he laps you through it, slow and greedy, until you’re whimpering from overstimulation, tugging weakly at his hair.

only then does he pull back, sucking his fingers clean, eyes locked on yours the entire time. he strips slow shirt first, then pants, boxers until he’s bare above you, skin warm, muscles flexing under the low light from the bedside lamp. he climbs back over you, pushing your thighs to your chest, folding you open. the thick head of his dick rubs against your clit slow circles, teasing, making you whine and twitch.

“please,” you breathe, voice wrecked.

he pushes in slow, inch by inch both of you moaning at the stretch, the heat, the rightness of it. he bottoms out, hips flush to yours, and for a long moment he just stays there, buried deep, letting you feel him throb inside you.

he starts moving slow, deep thrusts that drag against every sensitive spot, making your toes curl, your breath hitch. the wet sounds of your bodies fill the room slick, obscene, echoing. you hold onto his shoulders, nails digging in, anchoring yourself to him like he’s the only solid thing in the world.

“you feel so good,” he groans, voice breaking a little. “so fuckin’ perfect. missed this missed you.”

your eyes stay locked, love and heat and years of longing pouring between you. every thrust pushes you higher, pleasure building so thick it almost hurts. your hands are everywhere—l gripping his biceps, sliding up to his neck, pulling him closer. he leans down, kissing you messy and deep, tongues tangling, swallowing each other’s moans.

the angle is brutal in the best way he’s stretching you wide, dragging against your front wall on every pull-out, punching your g-spot on every thrust in. your pussy’s a mess creamy, swollen, gripping him like she never wants to let go.

your eyes flutter threatening to roll back again but you fight it, wanting to see him, wanting him to see you fall apart.

mid-thrust—when he grinds in deep and holds it there, letting you feel him throb inside you you surge up suddenly. cup his face with both hands, pull him down, and kiss him like you’re drowning and he’s air. it’s messy tongues sliding, lips crashing, little desperate moans swallowed between you.

your legs tighten around him, heels digging into his back, pulling him closer, deeper, like you can’t get enough. you pull back breathless, foreheads pressed together.

“this my pussy?” he asks, voice wrecked, hips still rolling slow.

“yes,” you nod, tears pricking your eyes—not from pain, from everything. “only yours.”

the grip of your pussy has him biting his lip, eyes squeezing shut for a second. “fuck… missed being inside you so much,” he whispers, voice cracking.

you both climb higher together moans mixing, breaths syncing, bodies trembling. the pleasure coils tighter, unbearable, perfect.

“i love you,” you gasp against his mouth.

“i love you,” he groans back, voice raw.

you cum at the same time your pussy clenching hard around him, milking him as you squirt, soaking his stomach, the sheets. he buries himself deep, groaning low and broken, spilling inside you hot, thick pulses that make you shudder. sweet nothings tumble out between you“i missed you,” “never letting you go again,” “mine,” “yours,” “i’m sorry,” “i know, baby, i know”until you’re both spent, trembling.

he pulls out slow, careful, then collapses beside you, rolling so his head rests on your chest, ear over your racing heart. his arm drapes heavy across your waist, fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin.

the room is quiet except for the sound of your breathing slowly calming down.

ony’s head is resting on your chest, his arm wrapped around your waist while your fingers lazily play with the hair at the back of his head. neither of you say anything for a moment, just laying there, letting everything settle.

after a few seconds he lifts his head slightly, looking down at you.

“you okay?” he asks softly.

you nod, still catching your breath a little. “yeah.”

he presses a gentle kiss to your shoulder before carefully sitting up.

“stay right there,” he murmurs.

you watch him walk toward the bathroom, still a little dazed, the sheets pulled loosely around your body. you hear the sink run for a moment before he comes back with a damp cloth and a small towel.

ony climbs back onto the bed beside you, his movements gentle.

“c’mere,” he says quietly.

he helps you sit up slightly, the sheet still wrapped around you, and carefully cleans you up, making sure you’re comfortable the whole time. his touch is soft, careful, like you’re something precious.

“you sure you’re okay?” he asks again, glancing at your face.

you smile a little. “i’m good, ony.”

he nods, satisfied, before standing again and grabbing a bottle of water from the nightstand.

“drink,” he says, handing it to you.

you laugh softly but take it, sipping while he takes a few drinks himself before setting it back down.

then he slips back under the covers and immediately pulls you against him.

your head settles against his chest while his arm wraps around you, holding you close like he never wants to let go again.

for a while neither of you speak.

his fingers trace slow circles along your arm while you listen to his heartbeat.

“i missed this,” he whispers eventually.

you tilt your head slightly. “what?”

“this,” he murmurs, squeezing you gently. “holding you.”

your chest warms.

you cuddle closer into him, your leg tangling with his under the blanket.

a few quiet minutes pass before ony suddenly shifts a little.

“wait here,” he says.

you blink. “where are you going now?”

he just smiles a little and leans over to the floor, reaching into the back pocket of his pants.

you watch curiously as he pulls out a small box.

your eyebrows lift.

“ony…?”

he sits back against the headboard beside you, looking slightly nervous now.

“okay so… this was supposed to happen earlier,” he admits.

you sit up a little more, the blanket slipping slightly as you stare at the small box in his hands.

“what do you mean earlier?”

he opens it.

inside is a ring.

your breath catches.

“i was gonna give this to you in the living room,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. “and ask if we could try again.”

your eyes widen.

ony glances down at the two of you under the blanket, both of you obviously naked.

he lets out a small laugh.

“but… uh… we kinda got distracted.”

you follow his gaze and then start laughing too.

“ony!”

he grins, shaking his head a little.

“yeah… not exactly how i planned it.”

your eyes move back to the ring, still stunned.

he looks at you again, his expression turning soft.

“but the question’s still the same.”

he gently takes your hand.

“will you try again with me?” he asks quietly. “

your throat tightens.

your eyes fill with tears again, but this time you’re smiling.

“yeah,” you whisper.

ony blinks. “yeah?”

you nod, laughing softly through the emotion.

“yeah, ony. i’ll try again.”

his face immediately lights up in that familiar way you missed so much.

“come here,” he murmurs.

he carefully slides the ring onto your finger.

it fits perfectly.

you both stare at it for a second before you suddenly throw your arms around him.

he laughs softly, hugging you tightly against his chest.

“i love you,” he murmurs into your hair.

you squeeze him back.

“i love you too.”

you stay like that for a moment before a thought suddenly hits you.

you pull back slightly.

“wait.”

ony looks down at you. “what?”

you blink at him.

“we have so much explaining to do to the girls.”

for a second there’s silence.

then both of you burst out laughing.

ony groans playfully, dropping his head back against the headboard.

“yeah… we definitely do.”

you giggle, cuddling back into his chest.

his arm wraps around you again, pulling you close.

“we’ll figure it out,” he says softly.

you smile against his skin.

“together this time.”

“hold on,” the guy says, squinting at the photo. “who is that?”

armin looks up from his computer, casual. “my wife.”

silence.

“…your what?”

“my wife,” armin repeats, slower this time, like maybe he misheard him the first time.

the guy laughs. actually laughs. “yeah, okay. good one.”

armin frowns. “i’m serious.”

“no way,” another co-worker chimes in, rolling their chair over. “armin, be real. that’s not your wife.”

“why wouldn’t she be?” armin asks, already defensive.

“because,” the guy gestures at the picture, “look at her. you’re telling me she married you?”

armin blinks. “…yes?”

they all stare at him like he just told the funniest joke in the world.

“bro,” the first guy says, shaking his head, “that’s either a celebrity, a model, or ai-generated.”

“she’s not ai,” armin snaps. “she’s real. she’s literally my wife.”

“then where is she?” someone asks.

“at home,” armin says.

“so you’re telling me,” the first one says, pointing at the picture, “you pulled that?”

armin frowns. “what is that supposed to mean.”

“It means,” the guy shrugs, “she looks fake. like influencer fake. like ‘she doesn’t belong with you’ fake.”

armin’s eye twitches. “she’s literally my wife.”

“okay,” someone else chimes in, “but have we ever seen her?”

armin opens his mouth. closes it. “she doesn’t work here?”

“exactly,” the guy nods like he just solved a mystery. “so how do we know she’s real.”

armin sighs, rubbing his temples. “because i have a wedding ring. because i talk about her. because i go home to her.”

“could be a very elaborate lie,” another one says.

armin looks around the room, genuinely offended now. “why would i lie about being married.”

they all shrug.

“listen,” armin says, grabbing his phone and unlocking it, “i can literally show you—”

“pictures can be edited,” someone cuts him off.

“she could be ai,” another adds.

armin stares at them. deadpan. “you people are insane.”

and from that moment on, it becomes a thing. every day it’s—

“how’s your wife, armin?”

“tell your imaginary girl i said hi.”

“did you photoshop that picture yourself?”

no matter how many photos he shows, no matter how many times he says wife, married, legally, they still look at him like he’s joking.

and that’s when armin decides.

fine.

if they don’t believe you exist now, they will soon.

after that whole interaction armin comes home looking all pouty, bag slung over his shoulder a little harder than usual. you’re on the couch, half paying attention to whatever’s on tv when he drops down next to you with the biggest sigh ever.

“can you believe that,” he starts immediately, running a hand through his hair, “they don’t think i’m married to you.”

you turn your head slowly to look at him. “…what?”

“they think i’m lying,” he says, genuinely offended. “like i just made you up. one of them literally said, ‘armin, be serious.’”

you blink. then you laugh. like, actually laugh.

“armin,” you say, smiling, “you come home to me every night. i sleep in your bed. i wear your shirts. i steal your hoodies. how am i not real?”

he groans, leaning back against the couch. “that’s what i’m saying. i showed them your picture and they were like, ‘no way.’”

you crawl a little closer, resting your head on his shoulder. “so basically… they don’t believe you pulled me.”

he doesn’t answer right away, which tells you everything.

“…yeah,” he admits quietly.

you laugh again, softer this time, pressing a kiss to his arm. “aww. poor baby. must be so hard being married to someone so hot.”

he looks down at you, still pouting but clearly feeling a little better. “it’s not funny.”

“it is a little funny,” you tease. “but hey, who cares what they think? you know i’m real. i know i’m real.”

he hums, eyes softening. “yeah… i guess.”

you tilt your head, smiling like you’re up to something. “i mean,” you say casually, “i might know a way to make you feel better.”

his eyebrows lift immediately. “yeah?”

you nod, innocent. “mhmm.”

and just like that, the pout is gone.

you might wonder why everyone’s in such disbelief that you exist. honestly? it’s probably because you’re that fine. too fine. unreal beauty. and to armin’s co-workers, there’s just no way armin managed to pull a woman that looks like you. so clearly, in their minds, you’re either a stock photo, a model he googled, or a very elaborate lie.

so when armin casually mentions that the company christmas party is coming up and that he’ll be bringing his wife, the reactions are… loud.

armin leans back in his chair, annoyed. “she’s coming to the christmas party.”

that shuts them up.

“oh?” the guy raises an eyebrow. “so she’s finally leaving the witness protection program?”

“oh yeah? she finally gonna leave canada and show up?” one guy laughs.

“nah, she’s real but she goes to another company,” another one adds, snickering.

“armin, just say you’re single. it’s okay,” someone else says, patting his shoulder like they pity him.

armin’s eye twitches.

“she’s coming,” he says, a little firmer this time.

they all look at each other.

“sure,” one of them says slowly. “and i’m bringing rihanna.”

another chimes in, “what’s her excuse gonna be this time? food poisoning? ‘model schedule’ too busy?”

armin’s ears turn red. “she’s real,” he insists. “she’s my wife.”

“prove it,” someone laughs. “no photoshop this time.”

the thing is, armin doesn’t even argue back anymore. he just smiles to himself, already knowing what they don’t.

because in a few weeks, he’s walking into that party with you on his arm.

and suddenly, no one’s gonna be laughing.

the day is finally here and armin has been a lil too excited for today. like… suspiciously excited. right now you’re in your little element, sitting at your vanity, music low, doing your makeup. lashes on, gloss perfect. you already know you’re about to eat.

you get dressed, slipping into a simple black mini dress—nothing too crazy, but it hugs you right. your hair falls in soft black waves over one shoulder, shiny and bouncy, exactly how you like it. you grab your bag, slide into your red bottom heels, and do a little final look in the mirror. yeah. you snapped.

when you walk out, armin looks up and freezes.

like actually freezes.

“…oh,” he says. then blinks. then stares again. “oh wow.”

you laugh. “what?”

he stands there for a second too long, hand rubbing the back of his neck. “i—” he exhales, shaking his head. “how did i pull you?”

you burst out laughing. “armin?”

“no, seriously,” he says, eyes dragging over you again, half in disbelief. “this feels illegal. like i tricked the system or something.”

you walk up to him, fixing his collar, smiling. “you’re married to me. relax.”

he laughs nervously. “i know, i know, it just—” he gestures at you. “you look insane. my coworkers are gonna think i paid an actress.”

you peck his lips. “ready to shock your coworkers?”

he nods, still staring. “yeah,” then quietly adds, “i’m never gonna hear the end of this.”

you grin. mission accomplished.

you both finally get to the party and you can immediately tell.

the pauses.

the way conversations literally stop mid-sentence.

the way people blink like they’re buffering.

armin squeezes your hand, already smiling because yeah… he sees it too.

“uh— hey guys,” he says, a little proud, a little nervous. “this is my wife.”

silence.

actual silence.

the guy who’s been talking the most at work just stares at you, then at armin, then back at you again like he’s checking for a glitch.

“…wife?”

“as in… married married?”

“like… legally?”

you smile sweetly, giving a little wave. “hi.”

another coworker leans forward squinting. “wait. you’re real?”

“unfortunately,” you say, deadpan. “i exist full-time.”

someone actually laughs nervously. “nah because this is crazy. armin, you said your wife was hot but—”

“but you thought i was lying?” armin cuts in, offended but also clearly enjoying himself.

a girl whispers a little too loud, “oh my god… that’s her?”

another one goes, “the desk picture girl???”

the same dude from before shakes his head slowly. “bro… i owe you an apology. i really thought that was a stock photo.”

you gasp dramatically. “a stock photo???”

armin groans. “see what i deal with?”

someone else adds, “so you’re telling me you come home to that every night?”

armin shrugs, smug now. “yeah.”

“that’s sick,” another coworker mutters. “that’s actually sick.”

you lean into armin, smiling up at him. “you okay? you look like you just won an argument you’ve been having for months.”

he whispers back, “i feel so vindicated.”

by the time he finishes introducing you, people are still staring, still whispering, still clearly trying to figure out how.

and honestly?

you kinda love it.

you smile politely, playing nice, but inside you’re eating it up just a little. whispers start floating around, heads leaning together, people suddenly a lot more interested in small talk. armin stays glued to your side, hand resting on your lower back like he’s been waiting for this moment forever. you can feel his pride, the way his chest sits a little higher now.

one of his coworkers clears his throat awkwardly.

“…so, uh—hi. i’m thomas.”

you smile. “hi, thomas.”

he blinks. once. twice. then looks at armin.

“she—she talks.”

another coworker chimes in, wine glass frozen halfway to her mouth.

“wait. she’s real real?”

armin sighs like he’s been fighting this battle all year. “i told you she was real.”

someone mutters, “i thought that picture was ai.”

“or a model,” another adds.

“or a prank,” someone else says.

you tilt your head, sweet as ever. “wow. should i be offended or flattered?”

the group laughs nervously. armin squeezes your waist.

“see?” he says, a little smug now. “wife. married. legally.”

you lean in close, voice low so only he can hear.

“so…” you murmur, eyes sparkling, “you happy now? finally proved you weren’t lying?”

armin lets out a quiet laugh, shaking his head.

“you have no idea,” he whispers back. “i feel like i just won a lifelong argument.”

“mm,” you tease, pretending to look around. “all that stress over me? crazy.”

he opens his mouth to reply, but then you feel it his hand tightens just slightly at your back. before you can say another word, he turns you toward him and kisses you. not rushed, deliberate. confident. like he’s been waiting all night to do it.

the room goes dead quiet.

someone actually gasps.

“OH.”

“nah.”

“that’s crazy.”

“he’s winning.”

you pull back, smiling up at armin. “better?”

he’s stunned, cheeks pink, absolutely glowing. “yeah,” he says softly. “much better.”

from across the room someone mutters, “i owe him twenty bucks.”

and of course armin felt a lot of pride knowing he proved all his co workers wrong he flaunted you all over the scene, making sure it’s known you are his wife and you you’re definitely loving the attention feeling yourself.

now you are definitely enjoying this party a little too much. free liquor, free food, good music? yeah, you’re winning. you’re on your third drink, cheeks warm, laugh a little louder than usual, body swaying happily to whatever song just came on. armin, meanwhile, is in full panic-but-trying-to-be-cool mode.

his hand finds your waist as you lean into him, drink in hand.

“okayyy,” he says gently, voice low near your ear, “maybe… slow down a little?”

you look up at him with big innocent eyes. “slow down? armin this is basically a work hazard.”

he sighs. “you’ve had three.”

“three is a friendly number.”

“it’s not a friendly number when you’re dancing on me in front of my boss.”

you giggle, immediately proving his point by grinding your hips just a little more. armin freezes, eyes darting around the room. “baby— please—”

“what?” you grin. “i’m supporting my husband.”

someone walks by and gives them a look. armin tightens his grip on you. “you’re gonna get me fired.”

“mm,” you hum, taking another sip, “worth it.”

he gently takes the glass from your hand, replacing it with water like a man diffusing a bomb. “drink this. just for a bit.”

you squint at the cup. “this is not vodka.”

“exactly.”

you pout dramatically. “you’re no fun.”

he smiles despite himself, brushing his thumb across your cheek. “i’m having fun. i just need you to still be standing when we get home.”

you laugh, wrapping your arms around his neck. “you’re stressed.”

“because my insanely hot wife is tipsy and everyone here is watching.”

you kiss his cheek, loud and exaggerated. “let them watch.”

he groans softly, resting his forehead against yours. “i knew bringing you was a bad idea.”

“liar,” you say sweetly. “you love this.”

he exhales, defeated, but smiling. “yeah,” he admits. “i really do.”

and just like that, he pulls you closer, one arm firm around your waist, keeping you steady while you sway together armin half-stressed, half-proud, already knowing he’s not winning this one.

you finally end up leaving with everyone shouting goodbyes, a few of his coworkers yelling your name like you’re a celebrity now. armin’s hand is firm on your waist as he guides you toward the car because you are definitely past tipsy.

“okay, okay—slow down,” he laughs, trying to keep you from tripping in your heels.

“i’m fine,” you giggle, immediately proving you are not.

he opens the passenger door and you just stand there smiling at him.

“…why are you looking at me like that?” he asks.

“you’re handsome,” you say very seriously.

he sighs, smiling anyway. “this is my fault. i should’ve never let you get past drink two.”

“drink three was important,” you argue as he gently buckles you in. “for morale.”

“for chaos,” he corrects, tapping your nose before closing the door.

the drive home is chill, city lights passing by, armin relaxed again now that you’re safely seated. then partition comes on.

“ohhhh my god,” you gasp like it’s the greatest moment of your life. “this my soooong.”

“oh no,” armin mutters under his breath.

you turn the volume up anyway.

“driver roll up the partition pleeease”

your words are slurred, half-sung, half-mumbled, completely off beat.

“baby—”

“i don’t need yooou seein’ yonce on her kneeees”

you’re swaying in your seat, hand dramatically pressed to your chest like you’re performing for a sold-out crowd. armin tries so hard to keep a straight face, gripping the steering wheel, but he’s already smiling.

“you’re drunk,” he says, amused and stressed at the same time.

“took forty-five minutes to get all dressed up

and we ain’t even gonna make it to the clu—”you pause, squinting. “—club.”

armin lets out a laugh despite himself. “wow. beautiful vocals.”

you grin at him, slow and mischievous, eyes heavy-lidded. then you shift in your seat.

and suddenly—

something lands softly in his lap.

he feels it before he even looks.

he glances down for half a second.

your thong.

he looks down.

then at you.

you’re already watching him, chin tilted, eyes heavy-lidded, innocent little smile like you didn’t just start a war

he doesn’t say a word.

doesn’t react.

you’ve been babysitting for toji for a while now everything was normal until one night it wasn’t, and now you’ve been “sleeping over” a lot more than the average babysitter should. yeah, it’s gotten that far.

megumi’s finally knocked out for the night, and you’re just finishing up the dishes when you hear the front door unlock.

the moment toji steps in you can tell oh, he’s pissed. irritated. tense. the kind of mood that ends in you being ruined.

your eyes meet and he heads straight for you.

“hi,” you say softly.

“hi,” he mutters back voice low and rough before grabbing your waist and kissing you like he’s trying to bite the day out of his system.

his hands slide down to your ass, squeezing so hard you squeak into his mouth. he finally pulls back, breathing heavy, forehead resting against yours.

“rough day at work?” you ask, teasing a little, fingers already tracing circles on his chest.

“something like that,” he grumbles.

“megumi’s down?”

you nod. “fast asleep.”

his jaw flexes oh yeah, he needed that news. needed you, specifically.

you tug him closer, lips brushing his. “you’re so tense, toji… let me help you relax.”

and just like that, all that frustration melts right into your hands.

you kiss him slow, lazy, standing between his spread thighs while he leans back against the kitchen counter. the house is quiet except for the low hum of the fridge and the wet sounds y’all keep making.

his big hands slide down to your ass, squeezing once before you pull back with that little smirk he loves.

“hold on, baby,” you whisper, sinking down to your knees right there on the cold tile.

toji watches you, arms crossed over his chest, you unbuckle his belt slow, metal clinking loud in the quiet kitchen, then pop the button, drag the zipper down tooth by tooth. his dick’s already straining against his boxer briefs, thick ass outline making your mouth water.

you tug everything down just enough and he springs out—heavy, veiny, flushed dark at the tip, a fat bead of precum already dripping. you don’t even play. you wrap your lips around the head and sink down slow, letting him feel every inch of your throat opening up for him.

“fuck,” he mutters, head knocking back against the cabinet for a second before his eyes snap right back to you.

you take him deeper, till your nose brushes his pelvis and your throat flutters around him. eyes water instantly, you pull back sloppy, spit stringing from your lips to his tip, then dive back down, cheeks hollow, tongue flat against the underside.

“just like that—shit,” he groans, big hand coming down to gather your hair into a messy ponytail, wrapping it tight around his fist. “suck that dick like you missed it, baby.”

you do. you get nasty with it.

hand stroking the base in perfect twist with your mouth, slurping loud and sloppy, drool dripping down his balls and onto the floor between his feet. every time you choke he tugs your hair a little harder, forcing you back down till your throat bulges.

“look so fuckin’ pretty chokin’ on me,” he rasps, hips starting to roll now, fucking your face slow and deep. “that throat was made for this dick, wasn’t it?”

you can only hum around him, vibrating his whole length, tears and spit mixing on your chin. you pull off just enough to breathe, stroking him fast and messy, tongue flicking the slit before you sink all the way back down again.

“goddamn—messy ass girl,” he growls, watching the strings of spit connect your lips to his dick every time you come up for air. “droolin’ all over my shit like a slut. you want this nut down your throat or what?”

you try to nod, but he’s already fucking your mouth harder, using that ponytail like a handle, balls slapping your chin with every thrust.

“nah—fuck—” he suddenly yanks you off with a wet pop, chest heaving, dick angry-red and shining with your spit. “get up. i wanna cum inside that pussy.”

you’re still coughing, lips swollen, eyes watery, but he doesn’t even let you catch your breath. one second you’re standing, the next toji’s big hands are under your thighs and he’s hoisting you clean onto the kitchen island like you weigh nothing. cold granite bites your ass through the thin leggings and you gasp into his mouth.

“shh,” he mutters against your lips, already kissing you filthy and slow, tongue deep, swallowing every sound before it can get loud.

his palm slides between your legs, rubbing your pussy through the leggings hard, feeling how soaked you already are. you moan into his mouth, hips rolling on instinct.

“fuck, feel that?” he rasps, pressing harder. “dick ain’t even in yet and you’re already ruining these.”

he doesn’t waste time. hooks his fingers in the waistband and yanks your leggings and panties down in one rough pull, letting them dangle off one ankle. you giggle—high and breathless—until he spreads your thighs wide, stepping between them,and slaps that heavy dick against your bare clit.

once. twice. three fat taps that make you jolt and bite down on a squeak.

“quiet,” he warns, smirking, lining up. the tip nudges your entrance, slides up, spreads your slick everywhere. “open that shit up for me.”

then he pushes in—slow, thick, relentless. one long stroke that has your eyes rolling back instantly, mouth falling open on a silent scream.

“fuck—toji—” you choke, hands flying to his chest, nails digging into his shirt as he splits you open.

he slams a hand over your mouth, leans in close, and starts thrusting—deep, nasty, controlled strokes that make the island creak under y’all.

“told you to be quiet,” he growls against your ear, hips snapping, balls slapping your ass soft enough not to echo. “but this pussy so wet it’s talkin’ for you. listen to that shit.”

it’s obscene lewd,wet sounds every time he pulls out and sinks back in, your slick coating him, dripping onto the counter. he keeps one hand over your mouth, the other gripping your hip hard enough to bruise, angling you so he’s hitting that spot that makes your legs shake.

you’re whining into his palm, eyes rolling so far back he laughs under his breath.

“there it go,” he whispers, voice dark and filthy. “pussy tryna suck me in. you love when i fold you on this counter, huh?”

you nod frantically, tears pricking, drooling against his hand.

he takes it away just long enough to kiss you—messy, nasty, tongue fucking your mouth in time with his dick—then puts it back when you start getting loud again.

“cum on this dick,” he hisses, thumb dropping to rub tight circles on your swollen clit. “do it. cream all over me, baby. wanna feel that shit drip down my balls.”

your whole body locks up—back arching hard, thighs clamping around his hips, pussy fluttering like crazy. you cum with a muffled moan against his palm, squirting a little, soaking his shirt and the counter beneath you.

“fuck yes,” he groans, barely holding it together, thrusts turning sloppy. “pussy tryna milk me—here it come—”

he slams deep one last time and unloads, thick and hot, pulsing inside you while you’re still shaking through the aftershocks. he grinds slow, making sure you take every drop, then stays buried, kissing your neck, your sweaty forehead.

you don’t even realize you spaced out until he taps your cheek lightly. “hey. you good?” his voice is that low sleepy one you kinda love. you hum and nod because honestly you’re just floating right now.

“c’mon,” he mutters as he lifts you like you weigh nothing. you cling to him like koala because hello??? muscles everywhere??? you swear you can feel every single one of them.

he carries you to the bathroom and sets you on the counter, grabbing a warm cloth. he wipes your neck, your shoulders, your stomach gentle as hell for someone who walked in the door like he was about to fight the whole building. “did i hurt you?” he asks softly. you shake your head because absolutely not, you are thriving.

when he’s done, he hands you your comfy shorts, then pulls one of his shirts over your head. “looks better on you anyway,” he says like it’s just a fact. you do a little smile because yeah… you know.

you both check on megumi still knocked out, little fist by his face. toji fixes his blanket even tho it’s not crooked. dad mode activated.

back in bed, he lays down first and then pulls you right on top of him like you belong there. big hand rubbing slow patterns on your back. you feel his breathing finally calm down.

“you calmed down yet?” you tease into his chest.

“working on it,” he replies, kissing your forehead. “you make it easy.”

you grin against him, fingers tracing his collarbone. “so basically i’m like… a stress reliever. with legs.”

“yeah,” he says without hesitation. “my favorite one.”

you roll your eyes but also kick your feet a little because yay.

he tucks the blanket around you, big palm resting over your hip. “sleep,” he murmurs, all raspy, already halfway there himself.

you mumble, “okay…but next time you stressed you better text me first so i can prepare mentally.”

he huffs a tired laugh. “noted.”

today is such a good day you and ony decided to have a cute little barbecue, just the two of you, just vibing. he’s already in the pool while you’re still inside finishing up… then you step out in your bikini, looking too good.

ony literally freezes. mouth slightly open. eyes glued to you.

you do a lil spin for him, acting innocent. “like what you see?” you ask, knowing damn well the answer.

“hell yeah,” he says, giving your butt a quick smack on your way to the water.

you sit on the edge while he swims a few laps, and you just watch him, all broad shoulders and back muscles and sunshine on his skin. he comes back over to you, standing between your legs, hands on your thighs. you grab his face and bring him up for a kiss.

“you look so good, baby,” you murmur against his lips.

he chuckles, eyes soft on you. “thank you you look beautiful as always.”

you kiss along his neck, fingers tracing his arm. “you been in the gym a lot?” you ask.

he nods. “mhm.”

“i can tell… i like it,” you smirk, giving him that look… the one that always gets him.

ony’s eyes go wide for a split second — yeah, you got him. he knows exactly what you’re suggesting.

“what you tryna do after all this?” he asks, voice already deeper.

you lean back on your hands, tilting your head, slow smile creeping in. “i got a couple ideas…”

the way his jaw clenches? priceless. you can practically hear the gears in his head turning straight to filth.

“aight—” he suddenly clears his throat, takes a step back, all flustered. “lemme… uh… lemme get started on that barbecue.”

you bite back a laugh. oh yeah. you definitely got his ass.

while he’s doing up the barbecue you can’t help but stare at this sexy man minding his business. he’s over there looking like a damn model and for what? he’s getting you hot just by breathing. so obviously, you have to disturb him.

you walk up behind him, sliding your arms around his waist, hands resting right on those pretty abs. he smells too good for your own sanity.

“the food smells so good,” you murmur against his back.

“yeah?” he asks, still focused but you can hear that tiny laugh in his voice.

“yeah… it’s making me soooo hungry.”

your fingers play with the waistband of his swim shorts innocent but definitely not innocent.

“but i’m also hungry for the chef.”

that right there has him freezing mid-flip.

“baby,” he blurts, voice already low, “you gon’ make me burn the food.”

you shrug like you’re innocent. “i’m sorryyy, i just wanna be all up on you. is that so bad?”

he shakes his head, trying to stay strong. “you a menace… go sit down before i forget we eating first.”

“fine,” you sigh dramatically, like you’re the victim here. you kiss his shoulder, give him the cutest wink, and walk away like you didn’t just ruin that man’s whole concentration.

ony watches you go, nearly flips the food onto the ground. he gotta breathe for a second before he sets this whole grill on fire.

the food is finally done so you start plating both your plates, humming to yourself like you’re not plotting this man’s downfall. you grab his favorite soda too because you’re a good girlfriend or whatever.

ony’s already sitting at the little outdoor table drying off, scrolling his phone all clueless, and you smile because ohhh he has no idea what’s coming.

you walk over sweet as pie and set his plate down first — leaning forward just a little too much. you know damn well your tits are right in his face, almost brushing his lips. you feel the way his breath hitches… mission accomplished.

you swear his soul leaves his body for a second. man looks like he just saw the pearly gates. you bite your lip trying not to laugh while he’s over there blinking like he forgot how to breathe.

you take your seat across from him, acting all innocent as you dig into your food. meanwhile, he’s gripping his fork like it personally offended him. eyes glued to you, trying so hard to keep it together.

“something wrong baby?” you ask, tilting your head sweetly.

“nah,” he says, voice a little too deep. “just… tryna eat.”

you smirk. “me too.”

…you let that hang in the air because you are evil and you love it.

he shifts in his chair, clearing his throat, trying to play it cool. poor man can’t even look at you without his jaw clenching.

you giggle and take another bite, proud of yourself. yep, mission “drive my man absolutely insane” is going perfectly so far.

after you guys finish eating, you help him clean up a little before you both move to the sun beds. the evening breeze is warm, sky looking all pretty with that sunset glow perfect cuddling weather. so of course, you lay right on top of him like you payed for the chest.

ony’s arms wrap around you automatically, hands rubbing up and down your back while you trace shapes on his skin. he presses a kiss into your shoulder, deep sigh — he’s comfortable. maybe too comfortable.

which is exactly why you shift your hips just a little. innocent, right? that’s what you tell yourself. ony’s breath stutters though, big hands tightening at your waist.

“what you doing, mama?” he mumbles into your skin, voice low and suspicious.

“nothing,” you say, fully lying. you play with the chain on his neck, nails lightly scraping his collarbone. “just enjoying my view.”

he gives you that slow smirk, like he knows you’re plotting. “feel like you up to no good.”

he’s right. because next thing he knows, you’re sitting up swinging a leg over to fully straddle him. no warning. no asking. menace behavior only.

“woah— baby,” he laughs, hands flying straight to your hips like muscle memory. you settle on him nicely, like a seat made just for you. “you tryna kill me or what?”

“maybe…” you lean down, kissing his lips once… twice… then deeper. slow. hungry. and when you pull back, he’s already breathing different.

your fingers trail down his chest, stopping right at the waistband of those swim shorts again — your favorite button to push. you look him dead in the eyes, voice all soft and dangerous:

“i want you so bad, baby. so bad.”

ony curses under his breath, head falling back for a second like he needs strength.

“you sure you wanna start something out here?” he asks, hands gripping your waist because he knows exactly where this is heading. “you not gon’ let me finish that food digest?”

you giggle against his mouth, kissing him again slow, teasing, full of promise. he tries to chase your lips, already losing the battle.

poor man never stood a chance.

you kiss him slow, rolling your hips just to feel him twitch under you.

“mm,” you hum against his mouth when you feel him getting hard fast. “somebody missed me.”

ony’s big hands slide straight to your ass, gripping two thick handfuls, squeezing like he’s checking if you’re real

you smirk, pull back just enough to kiss down his neck, tasting salt and sun on his skin. then lower over his chest, tongue flicking across his abs until you’re tugging those shorts down slow.

his dick springs out heavy and pretty, curved just right, tip already glossy.

you wrap your hand around him, stroking slow from base to tip, watching his stomach flex.

“you like that, daddy?” you ask, voice all sweet and filthy.

he groans deep, head falling back against the lounger. “fuck yes, baby. don’t stop.”

you lean down, spit on it real sloppy, then stroke faster, twisting your wrist just how he likes. but you’re too greedy tonight. you want all of him.

so you flip around reverse, ass toward his face, knees on either side of his thighs and line him up. the sunset’s glowing off your skin, bikini bottoms pushed to the side, and you sink down slow.

“fuck, ony… you so big,” you moan, eyes already fluttering as he stretches you open. you stay there for a second, just stuffed full, letting your body adjust, pussy fluttering around him.

he slaps your ass hard, watching it jiggle. “move, baby. ride that shit.”

you start bouncing slow at first, letting him feel every inch slide in and out, your cream already coating him. the sound of your ass hitting his thighs starts echoing over the quiet pool.

“just like that,” he groans, both hands on your cheeks now, spreading you open so he can watch himself disappear inside you. “fuck, look at that pretty pussy swallowing me.

you speed up, throwing it back harder, head falling forward as your eyes roll.

“daddy—feels so good—” you whine, voice shaking with every bounce.

“yeah? this dick feel good, baby?” he slaps your ass again, harder, making you yelp.

the sky’s turning purple now, sun almost gone, the way your skin’s glistening with sweat. you’re riding him reckless, ass bouncing crazy, wetness making everything sloppy and loud.

“shit—ony—” your legs start trembling.

“uh-uh, don’t slow down,” he growls, thrusting up to meet you, making you take it deeper. “ride that dick till you cum all over it. wanna feel that pussy squeeze me.”

you lose it.

your whole body locks up, eyes rolling all the way back, moaning loud enough somebody might hear if they walked by. you cum hard, creaming and dripping down his dick, thighs shaking like you’re breaking.

“ouu shit—daddy—” you cry, still bouncing through it, pussy fluttering like crazy.

ony’s head finally drops back, eyes rolling, groaning deep. “fuck, here it come—take it, baby—”

he slams up one last time and fills you up, hot and thick, hips jerking while you milk him dry.

you collapse forward, hands on his thighs, trying to catch your breath while the last bit of sunset fades behind you. he rubs slow circles on your ass, both of y’all panting.

you ease off him slow, thighs shaking, pussy still fluttering around nothing. ony sits up behind you like a damn predator, chest heaving, dick glistening with all your cream in the last bits of sunset.

“turn around for me, baby,” he says, voice low and calm, like he’s not about to wreck your whole soul. “ass up. right now.”

you don’t even argue. you drop to your hands and knees on the sun bed, back arched pretty, bikini bottoms still shoved to the side.

the pool lights are on now, glowing blue under y’all, making your skin shine.

he grabs your hips, lines up, and slides home in one smooth stroke no warning, just thick heat splitting you open again.

“ouu yes daddy—” it rips out of you the second he bottoms out.

he pulls your hips back hard, setting a brutal pace right off the rip. skin clapping loud over the quiet pool, wet and nasty, your ass bouncing crazy against his thighs.

“fuck, look at that shit,” he groans, watching himself disappear inside you over and over. “pussy still grippin’ me after all that? greedy ass girl.”

your arms give out almost immediately, face pressed into the cushion, moaning into it like a slut. your eyes roll back, toes curling.

he reaches forward, big hand wrapping around your throat from behind, pulling you up so your back’s against his chest. he turns your head and kisses you sloppy—tongue deep, messy, swallowing every cry.

“you like the way i’m fuckin’ you?” he mutters against your lips, hips never slowing.

“yes daddy—fuck yes—”

he slams in harder, making your whole body jolt, pussy fluttering like crazy.

“louder,” he growls, tightening his grip on your throat just enough. “tell me who this pussy belongs to.”

“it’s yours—daddy it’s yours—” you’re babbling, barely able to think, drooling a little.

he lets your hips go suddenly, still buried deep. “then fuck back on it. show me it’s mine.”

you don’t even hesitate. you throw it back hard—slamming your ass against him,whining and moaning like you’re possessed. the lounger creaks under y’all, wet sounds echoing everywhere.

“just like that—fuck—” he groans, head tilting back for a second before his eyes lock on the way you’re working him. “look at you go. nasty ass girl. cream all down my dick and still tryna take more.”

your legs are burning, pussy clenching tighter and tighter. “daddy—i’m bout to cum—please—”

“cum on your dick, baby,” he says, voice dark and sweet, slapping your ass hard enough to leave a print. “soak this shit. i wanna feel it.”

you shatter.

whole body locks up, screaming his name into the night, squirting so hard it splashes his thighs and the lounger. your pussy spasms around him crazy, cream dripping everywhere.

“ouu shit—daddy—” you’re crying, shaking, barely holding yourself up.

he grabs your hips again, fucks you through every pulse, growling deep in his chest. “that’s it—milk this dick—fuck you look so good when you lose it—”

two more brutal thrusts and he pulls out, jerking himself fast. hot ropes paint your ass and lower back, thick and messy, while he groans your name like it hurts.

“goddamn, baby…” he pants, slapping his dick against your ass one last time, watching the cum drip. “look at this pretty mess you made me make.”

he collapses beside you, pulling you into his sweaty chest, kissing your shoulder, your neck, your cheek.

“you good, mama?” he murmurs, voice soft now, rubbing slow circles on your back while y’all catch your breath under the stars and pool lights.

you can only nod, still twitching.

after all that you guys end up taking a shower, the shower is slow and warm you’re giggling like you didn’t just get what you wanted five minutes ago. he keeps trying to look serious but he’s smiling the whole time because you will not stop touching him under the warm water… like girl, wasn’t that enough for you?

once you’re both all clean, you do your skincare together like always you’re on your tiptoes rubbing moisturizer into his cheeks while he holds your waist, shaking his head because you look way too proud of yourself.

“got what you wanted, huh?” he mutters.

“mhmm,” you hum, kissing his nose, “and i might want more later.”

“finish sleeping first,” he laughs.

you both crash into bed, legs tangled, your head on his chest. his fingers trace lazy circles on your back, making you melt even more. you can feel sleep creeping in but you’re still wearing that smug little smile.

“biggest flirt in the world,” he whispers against your forehead.

“and you love it,” you mumble, already drifting off.

ony kisses your temple, pulling the blanket around you.

“yeah… i do.”

anyways, you guys just celebrated your one-year anniversary and boom — baby on the way. honestly, the pregnancy has been smooth and you’re so grateful. healthy baby, healthy you, happy husband… life is good.

tonight is date night and you’ve been saving this one dress for weeks. today is finally the day.

you slip into the closet, sliding the fabric over your body. it fits it really does but the second you turn toward the mirror, your heart sinks. this isn’t how you pictured yourself looking. not tonight. not in this dress.

you run your hands over the fabric gently, eyes tracing every new curve, every change pregnancy brought. instead of feeling cute, your stomach twists. you thought you’d feel confident… but all you feel is uncomfortable. heavy. not like you.

it looks different on you now. you look different now.

the excitement you had just minutes ago drains right out of you, leaving that sad, sour feeling sitting in your chest. the idea of going out suddenly feels exhausting. you don’t even want to open the closet door anymore. you just stand there, staring at your reflection, wishing you saw something you liked back.

something pulls you out of your thoughts — your husband going, “shit, you look good.”

of course he thinks you look good, even though you feel horrible. he wraps his arms around you from behind, lips brushing your ear.

“you tryna get yourself pregnant again?” he whispers, kissing your temple.

that’s when your eyes meet his in the mirror. he finally notices the way yours look glassy, the way you’re barely smiling. concern immediately covers his features.

“what’s wrong? what happened?”

you sigh, eyes dropping.

“you don’t think i look different?”

and the way eren reacts to that question it’s almost like you offended him.

“baby, what?” eren looks at you like you just cursed him out.

“i mean… like, i gained weight, so the clothes fit a little different. i just don’t like how it looks.”

“baby.”

oh yeah… you definitely pissed him off now.

“you look beautiful. you’re literally carrying my baby and you’re saying you look bad? this? beautiful.”

his tone softens as his hands slide from your waist to your belly.

“i can’t invalidate your feelings… but baby, you look amazing. you’re carrying our baby.”

“baby…” he cups your face gently, thumbs brushing the corners of your eyes like he’s wiping away every bad thought you ever had about yourself. “don’t ever say that again.”

his voice is soft but there’s that little edge — the how dare you talk about my wife like that edge.

“you’re literally creating life,” he says, shaking his head like he can’t believe you don’t see it, “our baby. our kid. you think anything about that could ever make you look ugly?”

you try to look away but he won’t let you, turning your face back to meet his eyes in the mirror.

“i don’t care if your body changes. it’s supposed to. that just means our baby is growing. that just means we’re doing this together.”

he leans down, kissing your cheek, your jaw, the spot just below your ear.

“you’re beautiful,” he whispers, like it’s a fact written in the sky. “you’ve always been beautiful. you’ll always be beautiful. i don’t care what dress you wear, what size you are, what changes happen… you’re mine. and i love every single part of you.”

your throat tightens, tears threatening to fall again, but this time it’s for a different reason.

eren notices, smiling softly as he kisses the tip of your nose, “don’t look at yourself like an enemy. that’s my wife in the mirror. the love of my life. the mother of my child.”

“she’s perfect.”

you sniff, trying not to cry, but he just wraps you up in his arms anyway, holding you close like he’s scared you’ll disappear.

“so whatever that voice in your head is telling you?” he mutters into your hair, “tell it to shut the hell up.”

and god… you can’t help but giggle at that.

he kisseskiss slow at first, then deeper, like he’s trying to shut up every single bad thought you ever had about yourself. his hand is still on your waist, thumb rubbing over the curve you were just overthinking about like it’s his favorite part of you.

“you really think i’m letting you talk about yourself like that?” he murmurs against your lips. “baby, you’re literally making life. you think that could ever make you look ugly? you’re… perfect.”

you roll your eyes a little, because he’s being so intense, but he cups your face like he can see exactly what you’re trying to hide. “no more of that,” he says, forehead pressed to yours. “i love this body. every single change. every single day.”

another kiss. and another. ew, you might actually cry again.

you breathe out, “eren… we’re gonna be late.”

he pulls back just enough to look at you, brows raised like you just told the funniest joke in the world. “late to what?”

“our reservation, idiot.”

eren smirks, hands sliding down to hold your hips gently not letting you move an inch. “yeah… i don’t really care about that anymore.”

your heart does a stupid flip.

“right now,” he says, kissing the tip of your nose, “i have something way more important to show you.”

but he kisses you again anyway, and you swear this man has no respect for date night plans.

he kisses you slow, like he’s got all the time in the world, guiding you back onto the bed until your head sinks into the pillows. his big hands slide down your sides, over the little swell of your belly, and he pulls back just enough to look at you.

the dress slips off your shoulders and he stops breathing.

black lace, hugging every new curve, stretched just right over your pregnant belly and your fuller breasts. you instinctively move to cover yourself, cheeks hot, but eren catches your wrists gently and shakes his head.

“nuh-uh. let me look at you.”

leans down, kisses your collarbone, your chest, right between the lace cups. “you put this on for me? walked around knowing i was gonna see you like this?”

you nod, biting your lip.

he groans, dragging his mouth lower, kissing over the soft curve of your stomach. “you’re so fucking pretty. you know that? every new inch of you… still the most beautiful girl i’ve ever seen.”

his hands are everywhere gentle, reverent, tracing the lace edges, palming your thighs, squeezing your ass through the panties until you’re arching up into him.

“eren—”

“shh. lemme look at my wife,” he murmurs, pushing the lace to the side slow, eyes dropping to where you’re already glistening for him. “fuck, look at you. so wet for me. so perfect.”

he slides two fingers through your folds, teasing, barely touching your clit until you’re whining into his mouth.

“so sensitive,” he whispers, kissing you deep while he circles your clit slow. “love how easy you open up for me. love how you sound.”

then he slips those two fingers inside slow, deliberate, curling them just right. your eyes flutter shut, back bowing off the bed.

his two fingers are buried deep, curled just right, moving slow and filthy while his thumb draws lazy, perfect circles on your clit. every time you try to chase it, hips rolling up, he presses down on your lower belly with his free hand and makes you take it at his pace.

you whine, high and needy, fingers tangled in his hair. “eren—”

he starts pumping steady now, slow strokes that make your cream drip down his knuckles, the wet sound so loud it’s embarrassing. but he loves it, groans every time he hears it.

“listen to that,” he whispers, kissing along your jaw. “that’s all you, baby. getting my fingers so messy. you feel how soaked you are? this pretty pussy missed me bad.”

you’re moaning into his mouth, kissing him sloppy between words, thighs shaking harder with every curl of his fingers. he switches it up, scissoring them, stretching you just enough to make your eyes roll, then back to that perfect hook that has you seeing stars.

“eren—please—” you’re begging now, hips trying to grind faster, but he just smiles and keeps that torturous rhythm.

“not yet, baby,” he says, soft but firm, kissing your forehead like he’s not destroying you. “wanna watch you get there nice and slow. wanna see every second of my pretty girl cumming undone.”

he adds more pressure to your clit, rubbing tight little circles while his fingers stroke deep and steady. your whole body starts tightening, breath hitching, toes curling into the sheets.

“that’s it,” he praises, voice thick with pride. “there she is… feel it building? you’re doing so fucking good for me. so beautiful like this.”

your hands are clawing at his shoulders now, moans turning into those broken little cries he loves. he kisses you deep, swallowing every sound, fingers never letting up.

“come on, baby,” he whispers against your lips. “let me have it. wanna feel you soak my hand. wanna watch the prettiest girl in the world fall apart just for me.”

that’s what does it.

you break, hard, clenching so tight around his fingers your whole body shakes. cream drips down his wrist, thighs trembling, eyes rolling back while you moan his name like a prayer. he keeps moving, slow and gentle, drawing it out until you’re twitching and gasping for air.

only then does he ease his fingers out, kissing you soft and lazy while you come down.

“fuck,” he mutters, voice wrecked, licking his fingers clean like he can’t help himself. “you’re perfect. so fucking perfect.”

he pulls back slow, eyes never leaving you, and peels his shirt off like it’s in his way. every inch of skin he shows makes your mouth water (broad chest, abs flexing, that v-line you wanna lick). he shoves his pants and boxers down in one go and his dick springs out heavy, flushed, tip already wet.

“look at this pretty pussy,” he mutters, voice rough, wrapping a hand around himself and slapping it against your clit once, twice. the sound is nasty. you jump, moan high. “still dripping from my fingers. greedy little thing.”

he drags the fat tip through your folds, up and down, teasing your entrance, coating himself in all that cream. every time he bumps your clit you twitch.

“eren—”

“i know, baby,” he says, soft and filthy, grabbing your thighs and pushing them up, folding you in half. he hooks your legs over his shoulders slow, kissing the inside of one ankle like it’s delicate. “lemme take care of you.”

then he pushes in.

one long, deep stroke that steals your breath. your back arches off the bed, mouth open on a silent scream because he’s so thick and the angle is insane.

“fuck,” he groans, eyes locked on where he’s disappearing inside you. “look at that… taking me so pretty. still so tight even after i stretched you open with my fingers.”

he pulls back slow, almost all the way out, then slides back in deeper, bottoming out with a nasty grind that makes your eyes roll.

“eren—oh my god—”

“yeah?” he leans forward, folding you even more, kissing your calf, your ankle, biting soft. “you feel how deep i am, mama? feel me right here?” he presses a hand low on your belly and thrusts again, making you feel him under your skin.

your legs are shaking over his shoulders already, toes curling. he starts moving slow at first, long deep strokes that drag against every spot inside you, watching your face like it’s his favorite movie.

“so fucking beautiful,” he mutters, kissing your ankle again, then your wrist when he brings your hand up to his mouth. he picks up the pace, hips snapping harder, skin clapping loud. every thrust punches a moan out of you.“listen to that shit,” he groans, voice wrecked. “hear how wet you are? that’s all me, baby.

your eyes keep rolling, tears pricking at the corners because it’s too good. he feels it, smirks, leans down to kiss you sloppy while he drills you.

“don’t run from it,” he whispers against your lips when you try to squirm. “stay right there and take it. wanna watch you fall apart on this dick.”

he hits that spot over and over, relentless, kissing your knuckles, your ankle, your calf.

“come on, pretty girl,” he breathes, thumb finding your clit and rubbing tight circles. “squirt for me. wanna feel you soak this dick. wanna see how gorgeous you look when you lose it.”

that’s it.

you break so hard your whole body locks up, back bowing off the bed, moaning his name while you squirt messy, uncontrollable creaming all down his dick and the sheets. your legs shake violently over his shoulders, toes curled so tight they cramp.

“fuck—there it is,” he groans, hips stuttering, watching you fall apart. “so fucking pretty when you squirt for me. my perfect girl. my pretty wife.”

he keeps stroking through it, drawing it out until you’re sobbing and twitching, then slams deep one last time and comes with you hot and thick inside you, groaning your name like it hurts.

he stays buried, kissing your ankle again, your shaking thigh, your tear-streaked cheek.

“you’re so beautiful,” he whispers, voice hoarse. “so fucking perfect. don’t ever forget it.”

he pulls out and you’re still trying to remember how to breathe. eren just laughs under his breath like he didn’t just ruin your whole night and your legs. rude.

he runs you a bath, making sure the water is perfect, steam already filling the bathroom. then he’s ordering food because you definitely need to refuel after that. he sits at the edge of the tub giving you a foot rub cause all that toe curling made ya feet hurt.

you’re laid back watching the movie he put on, but every once in a while you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror across the room and… wow.

were you really sitting here earlier saying you felt ugly? you must’ve been DELUSIONAL. clearly the dick restored your vision.

eren notices the way you’re staring at your reflection and smirks, leaning over to kiss your cheek.

“see how pretty you are?”

you melt and nod immediately because yeah, he was right and you were just talking nonsense before.

later, you’re in bed, wrapped up in him like a burrito.

“you owe me our reservation though,” you mumble into his chest.

“okay okay,” he chuckles, rubbing your back. “i’ll take you, aight? fancy dinner and everything.”

you kiss his chest with a little satisfied smile.

pregnant, married, loved, fed, and freshly humbled by that man?

…did you mention end of term is a whole month away?

like. who even studies that early. be serious.

you’re trying to focus, truly, but it’s so hard. so incredibly hard. your nails keep catching your eye.

damn… i need to get these done.

“baby,” armin calls softly.

“hm?” you mumble, still admiring the glitter on your index finger.

“are you studying?”

“i am, i am,” you lie confidently as you turn back to your laptop.

now what were you doing?

oh right scrolling through new clothes you want.

you add three things to your cart. then remember something and grab your phone.

did i confirm my hair appointment for tomorrow?

you check

yes. yes you did.

you do a tiny excited wiggle in your chair.

oh i’m about to look SO good.

you glance to your side… and armin is staring at your screen like he’s watching a toddler run with scissors.

“really?” he says, deadpan.

“you’re shopping.”

you groan dramatically. “but babeeeee this is boring. i wanna shop and stuff. why can’t i just study like… a week before?”

“no,” he says firmly.

oh.

oh not that tone.

he better relax before you give these people a reason to kick you out the library.

“you need to study now so it’s easier later,” he says, all calm and logical and annoying.

you roll your eyes so hard you almost see your brain.

armin doesn’t react. he just looks at you and says

“…if you study, i’ll give you some later.”

you freeze.

you perk up like a puppy hearing a treat bag.

now he’s speaking your language.

“okay!!” you squeal, slamming your tabs shut like they offended you.

you actually… start working.

highlighting, writing notes, nodding like a scholar.

armin just chuckles under his breath, shaking his head.

“unbelievable,” he whispers.

but he’s smiling.

because he knows exactly what motivates you.

so you’ve actually been studying for a while now, and… okay. fine. maybe it wasn’t as boring as you made it seem.

maybe you were being a tiny bit dramatic.

plus, let’s be real you’re getting dick after.

you can’t even be mad.

you glance over and see armin finishing up his last page. both of you start packing your things, and you’re trying so hard to act normal… but armin can see the excitement in the way you’re shoving pens into your bag like you’re speed-running.

he just laughs under his breath, shaking his head.

“someone’s eager,” he murmurs.

you pretend you don’t hear him because you’re embarrassed and excited at the same time.

you both walk to the car, and the second those doors close?

yeah. your brain loses all self-control.

armin starts the engine.

you sit there for 0.2 seconds of silence before bursting out:

“WE GETTING FUCKED TONIIIGHTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT—”

full volume. diaphragm support. american idol audition.

armin chokes on his own breath.

he’s gripping the steering wheel, dying of laughter, trying to merge into traffic while you’re next to him screaming like you just won a grammy.

“baby,” he wheezes, wiping tears, “please—”

“WE GETTING FUCKED TONIIIIIIII—”

he puts a hand over your mouth, still laughing so hard his shoulders shake.

“stop before someone hears you,” he scolds gently, cheeks pink.

the drive back is actually so calm compared to the chaos you caused earlier. armin’s got one hand on the wheel, the other resting on your thigh not doing anything, just sitting there… which somehow makes you even more excited.

you’re trying to act normal.

you’re failing.

your foot keeps tapping.

your nails keep drumming on your knee.

your whole body is practically vibrating like someone put you on fast-forward.

armin glances at you and just smiles to himself like:

“yup. i created this monster.”

finally, you pull into the driveway.

the second the car stops?

you’re GONE.

you practically sprint inside, dropping your bag somewhere (you don’t even know where it landed), heading straight for the bedroom like you’re running the olympic 100m.

armin’s behind you, laughing because he’s never seen you move that fast unless there’s food involved.

“baby, slow down—” he calls, but you’re already turning the doorknob.

you fling the door open, step inside, and before he even fully closes it behind him—

you’re on him.

you grab his shirt, pull him down, and kiss him like you’ve been waiting all day (because you have).

armin barely has time to breathe out a laugh before kissing you back, hands finding your waist, voice low and amused against your lips:

“you really studied just for this, huh?”

you don’t answer.

you just keep kissing him, backing him up toward the bed, every step screaming:

“yes. absolutely yes.”

you shove him down on the bed giggling like you won something. armin just smiles up at you, calm, eyes soft but dark—like he already knows how this ends.

“cute,” he murmurs, hands sliding up your thighs, squeezing once. “come take what you want, baby.”

you lean down and kiss him slow, deep, messy.

tongues and soft moans, the kind of kiss that already has you grinding on his lap without thinking. he lets you set the pace for exactly ten seconds before his hands lock on your hips and he pulls you down hard, making you feel how hard he already is.

“clothes off,” he says against your mouth, voice low and sweet. “now.”

you peel his shirt off, kissing every inch of skin you uncover his neck, his collarbones, that soft spot under his jaw that makes him exhale all shaky. he watches you the whole time, lips parted, letting you think you’re in control.

then you tug his sweats and boxers down in one go. his dick slaps against his stomach, pretty and thick and already wet at the tip. you wrap your hand around it and he hums, calm as ever.

“that’s yours,” he says softly, thumb brushing your cheek. “take it.”

you push your panties to the side and line him up, rubbing the head through your folds slow just to tease. he doesn’t rush you. just watches with that little half-smile, like he’s enjoying the show.

“stop playing,” he finally says, voice gentle but firm. “sit on it.”

you sink down slow, biting your lip at the stretch. when he’s all the way in, you both just breathe for a second—your hands on his chest, his hands on your ass.

“there we go,” he whispers, eyes locked on yours. “look at you… taking me so pretty. always do.”

you start moving—slow circles at first, grinding your clit down on him. he groans soft, head tilting back for a second before he looks at you again.

“that’s it. ride your dick, baby. show me how much you missed it.”

you pick up the pace, bouncing now, and he lets you—until it gets too good and your thighs start shaking and you try to slow down, lift up a little.

his hands tighten immediately, pulling you right back down.

“uh-uh. why you running?” he asks, soft but teasing, one hand coming up to cup your face. “you can take it. you always take it so good for me.”

“armin—” you whimper, nails digging into his shoulders.

“shh. look at me.” he waits till your eyes meet his. “there she is. my pretty baby creaming all over me already. you see how easy you make this look? so effortless.”

he guides your hips now—slow, deep rolls that make you see stars every time he bottoms out.

“just like that,” he praises, voice warm and filthy. “keep going. make that pussy feel good on me.”

you’re moaning into his mouth, kissing him sloppy between bounces, and he kisses back like he’s starving but still in control—hand tangled in your hair, tilting your head exactly how he wants.

“fuck, listen to you,” he breathes, smiling against your lips when you let out another broken sound. “so wet for me. you love riding this dick, don’t you?”