one things for sure, they couldn’t lie to you on that. you were cute. dark layered hair pinned up to showcase the stunning doll frame of your face, bangs drifting over your thin brows and softly grazing your falsies. chic with glasses while your body’s adorned in gray sweat shorts and an off the shoulder black top where they can see the imprint of your hardened nipples under the calligraphy writing that reads, ‘bitch’. you’d carried one of your many purses out of your copycat hannah montana closet — a coach purse to match your kitten heels. 

you’d never not look utterly feminine.  

“it’s a long ride, you’re g’na feel cramped,” ony speaks plainly, reaching forward to obtain the duffle from your grasp, palm inching towards your lower back to guide you to the car door eren had opened. 

“i’ll be good, pinky swear,” the tone is soft, onyankopon catching your scent wafting under his nose as you smile sweetly and leap into the back. 

“yeah, you’re good,” ony grunts in fascination, face close to yours as he sits the bags next to you, the vehicle packed with camping gear, a cooler, and tons of heavy luggage. “walkin’ ‘round smellin’ like that. oughta eat your ass up.”

“— like goddamn tiramisu,” eren grumbles, now sitting in the drivers seat, blowing out a cloud of smoke as his eyes scan you again. “you look pretty, though. however, i think heels were a bold choice considerin’ we’ll be in the middle of wilderness.” 

“thank you.” swallowing from both of their compliments and concentrating stares. you reply, “guess you’ll have to carry me then.” 

“mhm,” eren smirked, big hand gripping on to the back of the passenger seat, arm stretched and tense with muscle. little moles here and there sprinkled all over his body like greek artwork.

pulling out your ipad, you kick off your heels and lean back against the pile of bags as your potential pillow, ony climbing into his seat before adjusting himself comfortably and turning up the stereo, classic tunes playing melodiously. 

ony scrunched up his mouth. “c’mon man, i told you ‘bout switching out my cd’s.” 

“you drivin’ or am i?” eren raises his brows. “i made you that mix, it’s played out now.” 

“i don’t care, leave it in. i ain’t listenin’ to your sad ass alternative music the whole ride.” 

the bickering continues for another minute before they both decided on just listening to another mixtape, eyes flickering back and forth between both men with a blank stare, already in your own world. 

the car pulls away from your driveway, and onward you move for a four hour drive. the three of you had booked a cabin for the weekend to get out of town and enjoy each others company. clear your heads, and more detrimentally, clear the air. as you inhale the fresh breeze from nature through the open window, you began to let your mind settle into thought.

the past few months have been . . tough. a fuck up had taken place, one so badly that it had these past two months throwing you all in a loop of confusion. 

the friendship between you three had run deep. curating for ony in the fresh years of high school, whereas you met eren during college. quickly, you all bonded and became practically inseparable. you did literally everything together, best friends if anything else. but, best friends don’t cross the boundary that you guys did on a drunk night after graduation. 

it was unexpected, of course. stealing touches at a party, whispering in each others ears, talking about things you’d never overstep leading to flirty kisses and finally — heading upstairs. from most of what you remembered, eren had touched you first, and ony blindly followed behind. it was a blurry night evidently, and the biggest regret of your lives, at the time. it was awkward, to say the least. waking up with an excruciating headache and an empty bedside at that.

zero calls, no messages, complete silence from every side. there wasn’t an easy way to approach the situation, because really, what could you say?

you’d overstepped on something you swore you’d never do. even if it was jokingly brought up, with reason behind the fact that you all found one another attractive, and might’ve had a small crush at some point in time. clearly because of your relationship, you’d never ruin that. it was out of the question. plus, each of you dated other people in the midst of college experience.

it’d been nearly a month before the silence broke. you’d been the first to run into eren whilst running out. crossing paths at an auto shop since you needed a part for your car. it was like a relief speaking again, eren suggesting coffee and finding a cafe nearby, offering to help with your car since he’d been good at mechanics. catching up on small things like what’d the both of you been up to. eren apologizing for the lack of communication, realizing it’d been out of character for him and somewhat immature. you agreed, said it was something you needed to talk about as one. 

eren brought up ony, asking if he’d reached out, you replied no. it was clear that it’d taken a toll out of your friendship, and it saddened both of you. this feeling was uncomfortable, and you both despised it. it was then you decided to let ony in on the conversation the next day. seeing them both in the same room again filled that empty space in your heart of missing them. all parties came to the conclusion that it was a mistake, and that the moment was just there. that you all missed each other, and that shouldn't ruin what you had. 

from that point on, things were normal again. as if nothing ever happened. but then came one night of what you thought was normalcy, shifted into something entirely different. 

a super-bowl game at your place was in motion, other friends heading out into the city to sports bars and intentions on getting drunk — whereas you all politely declined. neither of you were in the mood to be around a bunch of rowdy people cussing each other out, fighting, or the horrid possibility of traffic. you’d been more at ease staying inside around these times, making the initiative to cook anyways.

there both men sat, side by side, manspreading widely with their knees touching, eyes trained on the screen watching the score with intensity. a mixture of irritation with grunts and sucks of their teeth, sometimes blending with claps of their heavy hands and gruff, “lets fuckin’ go!’s here and there. 

as you’re chopping the remainder of ingredients for steak tacos, their favorite, you’d noticed something . .  strange. how they acted towards one another for example. it wasn’t out of the ordinary for them to be . . close. they’ve always been a bit touchy, and whenever people would make comments about it, you’d make the notion that it was normal for them to be free in each others spaces. bromance, maybe. although something tonight felt new. 

as eren licked the rolling paper to conceal the particles of weed, you can feel his stare burning into you, ony watching his mouth on the blunt while still keeping his eyes on the game. when a touchdown happens for your home team, ony gasps and leans forward with eren, gripping eren’s thigh out of shock. you wanted to cheer, but felt like you needed to stay still for some reason, fearing that if you’d move, something would happen. 

both eren and onyankopon felt the same thing in this moment as they fixated on your frame. 

you’d been wearing an oversized jersey with your favorite player’s number, the shortest shorts skin tight on your figure with dark hair tossed behind your back. you’re barefoot, ony spotting the new berry french set on your toes when you went to retrieve something from the fridge. eren couldn’t keep his eyes off of your lips, faintly remembering how they felt on his dick while ony fucked you from the back. 

his knees began knocking in sync with ony’s, knowing he was thinking the exact same. since the couch directly faced the kitchen, it was hard for you to fully focus. you’d had your speaker playing tunes low in the background, trying to keep yourself from listening in on their conversation. it didn’t help that they both looked good as fuck. 

onyankopon was merely dressed in a black grunge band tee with the sleeves cut out, buff arms covered in tatttos leading up his neck, and matching sweatpants. while eren wore a white tank with baby blue carhartt jeans, hair a bit tousled under his white cap he had on backwards. sage eyes deep with intensity as he sunk deeper into the couch, spreading wider. 

ony scratches his goatee, your back turning momentarily, giving them a chance to whisper. 

“damn,” he swings his legs in and out, neck craning to look at you, jaw clenching. 

“yeah,” eren follows, understanding. “she look so fuckin’ good right now.”

it’s not wrong, right? to feel this pull that they do towards you? you’re fucking gorgeous. they’ve known that for a while, ever since they met you. why now was the question. why did they suddenly feel this magnet drawing them into you? you’re always alone together, so that wasn’t the case. maybe they were just sensing the same thing they felt that night, never blaming it fully on the liquor. 

“i ain’t gon’ lie, i need that shit again.”

“yeah?” eren taunts, leaning his head back on the couch to catch ony’s gaze. “how bad? w’na tear that lil’ ass up?”

ony’s nose flares, brows furrowing with the rush of arousal going through him, eren’s grin nearly sinister. “do it for me. go get our girl. w’na watch for a lil.”

our girl. even you heard that part. it felt liberating to say that, and it made both men’s chest burn with desire, and you shift in your spot. 

the thumping of your heart was erratic when you felt eren stand to his full height and walk his way over to you with heavy boots, coming behind you with a palm flat on the countertop and another on your waist, pressing the outline of his dick on your back, mouth coming to your neck in a faint whisper of, ‘gimme some pussy, mama. i miss it.’

and like it was nothing, you’d spread your legs for him and let him tug your shorts down to your ankles, arching into his touch and moaning from his tongue on your neck, eyes forward to see ony rubbing both hands down his thighs before tugging down his sweats and fisting his dick. eren and you study his movements together, eren moaning in your ear before he’s stuffing you full with two thick fingers. 

and the night went on. 

the next morning is when you decided to sit them both down, even yourself, and stopped playing games. it was either option one, you’re all doing this simply on the basis of attraction and the inability to get the first night out of your heads, or option two, this was something more. did you want to be more, did you see yourselves being together? each of you didn’t know what you felt, but you knew that it felt right. it was hard to express in the correct way. which is why you came up with the idea of going out of town to figure out what you wanted altogether. 

a months worth of planning came to your adventure now. in that time span, things remained the same. a friendship with little indications of flirting and sneaky touches. but, you all agreed not to have sex to prove that this wasn’t just a fleeting feeling. 

gravel dances beneath the bulbous tires of ony’s truck as eren eases into the cabin’s driveway. you had dozed off for a little cat nap, waking up to the rough pad of ony’s thumb gently caressing your cheekbone. a smile is soft as it appears on both of your faces, blinking open your eyes and rubbing your hand up his arm. 

“woah, this shit is nuts,” eren says in awe, ducking his head to scan the entire area while he parks, mouth agape like a big kid. 

“it better be for the price we paid,” ony retorts. 

“i told y’all i could pitch in,” you singsong, sitting up and leaning over the center console to also peep.

onyankopon and eren grimace, looking at you as if you grew two heads.

“nah, you know damn well i wouldn’t have let that slide.”

a small ‘hm’ comes from you almost squeaky-like as you boast and shrug your shoulders, hopping out of the truck with eren’s help since you still have those damn heels on, and making your way inside after ony reads you the code he’d copied into his notes. while the men grabbed the luggage, you gave yourself a small tour. 

it was everything you could’ve dreamt of. even though you picked it out on the airbnb site, the pictures didn’t do it justice. it was enormous. rustic farmhouse architecture, wood coating every area of the home. floor to ceiling windows, giant fireplace, a backyard with a grilling station and an amazing view of the lake. far away you could spot boats sailing, and your body melted as if it’d been holding on to unknown weight. 

this was the peace you needed. 

onyankopon catches you sitting on the steps out back while he comes in carrying three hefty bags, blinking in concentration to make sure you’re okay. setting them down, he walks over to sit beside you, big body next to yours making you gulp. his scent is manly, cologne and body care seeped into his chocolate skin, brown eyes illuminating in the sunlight. the sheen on his facial hair from the light, well moisturized along with his full lips that come to peck your temple — soft. 

“you aight?” 

laying your cheek on your knee, you nod slowly, elated as you find the man before you utterly mesmerizing. “mhm, i’m good. just takin’ in everything.”

“okay — you hungry? w’na get some food in you, mama?” 

one thing you always liked about onyankopon was how sweet he spoke to you. never once had this man raised his tone with you, even if he was upset. he treated you like someone he truly cherished and never wanted to hurt. he made you feel protected and respected. you loved that. 

“yes, i’m starving. let’s tell eren i want fish,” you giggle mischievously, both of you knowing he’d go out and hunt it for you. 

“y’know he gotchu, but let him rest for a lil min’, he did all that drivin’. we can run to the store to get some groceries,” he stands up, burly frame blocking the sunlight, tucking one hand in his jean pocket and offering you his other to lift you up. 

“kay, i saved a few meals i wanted to make!” you chirped, jumping up and squeaking as he yanks you up towards his hard chest, hand coming to your ass.

“mm, i’m excited.” 

“you changing outta them heels, girl,” eren jabs at, a frown instantly replacing your current expression, knocking your head in the direction of his voice to see him leaning his shoulder against a wall, arms crossed and sharp jaw moving with every chew to his gum.

“why are you so bothered by them?” the upturn of your lips show annoyance. 

“i’m not bothered at all, actually. i told you i don’t want you fallin’ in no mud. we’re not in a dry state. you packed them boots like i said?”

his stringent tone stirred something within you, being ordered around not necessarily your favorite, but at times you’d allow it if it means being spoken to like that.

sighing, you reply, “yes, i have them. i’ll put them on. just w’na be cute.”

the pout on your face and the slight baby voice has both men chuckling at you.

“you can be cute in the house, now c’mon. i can rest later, i’m not lettin’ y’all go anywhere without me,” eren finalized, tossing ony the keys he catches in the air, veins protruding in both their arms. 

you hum, sucking on your lower lip, keeping yourself together.

“gon’ now, w’na be back before dark,” ony pats your ass to get a move on.

mindlessly, you’re scuffing your feet over to one of your bags to get the boots eren had bought you, cute tan cowgirl booties that matched his. 

before you can put the other one on your foot, eren’s grabbing your chin with a straight face. he could be a little overprotective at times, needing to remind himself to lay off you as you were a grown ass woman who could handle herself. but he didn’t want to handle every man that looked at you with that look he knew all too well in their eyes. you already looked good, and if the heels were fucking him up, then they’d do the same to another man. he couldn’t help himself. it was a gripe. 

“give ‘em to me, i’ll keep ‘em in the car so you can feel pretty wearin’ them for us.”

that makes you giggle, knowing that’s really what it was all about. “ ‘kay.” 

the nearest grocery store was about a fifteen minute drive, really just a market with lots of local produce and farm raised meats. you’d taken videos of the acres of cornfields and cows you’d seen, in complete awe while now sitting in the passenger seat. mooing at them as if they’d hear you. seeing your childlike nature show made them smile, unable to help their happiness in your presence. 

“okay, i made a list. there’s g’na be three dinner meals i planned because i leave breakfast up to y’all. but, tonight i want fish, eren can catch ‘cause i know he’ll get the good stuff. but, with that i really just want it fried with some grits on the side! then, tomorrow i want lobster bisque, and after that we can do some steak with garlic parm potato wedges or — wait, what’s that side dish you always make, rennie? the one with the green stuff?” 

“pesto pasta?” he asks, pushing the cart while you read off your big ass ipad you take literally everywhere now. decorating a cute list on your roadtrip. 

“mhm, yup! i want that.” 

“whew, i’m g’na need a damn detox when we’re back home,” ony groans, grabbing a couple of drinks to drop in the cart, mostly prebiotics and low sugars since eren had a sensitive stomach. 

“noo, silly. we’re getting stuff for our tummy health, too. eren gets fussy if he doesn’t have certain things in the morning. like his c—"

“oh my god they have coconut cult,” eren rushes his sentence, cutting you off, taking two long legged strides to grab two jars. “fuck yes!” 

you nod. “exactly.” 

ony decides he wants to add a few things to the list as well to maintain his diet, while you roamed around looking for everything you needed. 

the market was a bit crowded today, so whenever you went too far, either ony or eren had to grab your hand to keep you fomented to them. at times, you peeped the weird stares from locals you’d all get, especially when they’d see you holding ony’s hand while kissing eren. or eren rubbing your ass while ony lays his chin on your shoulder. you tried your best to ignore them, getting that pang in your chest from their evident judgment. it made you feel weird for a moment, getting a little silent after checking out and heading back to the cabin. 

as time passed, you shook that depleting feeling off and got changed into baggy clothing so you wouldn’t be covered with dirt. wearing one of eren’s camo sweatshirt’s that hid every curve of your body along with some sweats. eren had made a pit stop at a nearby fishing shop, purchasing a bucket of worms before you all headed down to a fishing dock to catch dinner. eren taught you way back how to toss your line and reel them in, a little rusty since it’s been a while, but with his guidance you were able to catch at least two bass’s. even getting lucky and catching a giant lobster with glee, highly accomplished.

onyankopon wasn’t big when it came to this activity, grimacing at every creature squirming and gasping for air on the hook lodged into their mouths, finding it a bit inhumane. he’d gag whenever eren’s strong arms quickly yanked back the rod and rotated the gear to lure them closer, back bending and clenching the toothpick between his molars in concentration. 

you’d clap and jump up and down every time he’d catch one, then another, and another one. tossing it into the dirt covered bucket where they flipped and flopped around. 

“unt unt, y’all got it,” ony waves his hand, dismissing himself and heading back to the truck. “lemme know when y’all done y’all hillbilly shit so we can grill them mufuckas up.” 

eren chortles from his reaction, you clutching your stomach and following afterwards. ony came up with the idea of setting up tents in the backyard after coming back home, showering and changing into comfy pjs while eren fried the fish in a cast iron skillet over open fire. flipping the well seasoned fillets with a spatula, hissing when a bit of oil pops on his bare chest, completely shirtless with his boxers peaking out from his camo cargos. 

“fuck me!” his voice is guttural, clamping his teeth down on the toothpick and rolling his toned stomach inward. 

“yo, you need some ice?” ony comes up beside him to check if he’s good, eyes scanning his skin for any appearing welts. 

he didn’t question him on why he was doing this shit shirtless in the first place, some things eren just does, and you don’t pester him about it. 

“nah, i’m good. i’m being a dumbass, huh?” eren snickers, knowing that’s what ony was thinking, eyes trained on his. ony nods. “shit smellin’ good, though. i’m hungry as fuck.” 

“bet you are, all that drivin’ and fishin’, you’re like somebody’s goddamn pappy,” ony jokes, accent thicker as he speaks, grabbing the back of eren’s neck he massages before chuckling in his face.

they’re damn near teeth to bright ass teeth. 

eren rolls his eyes. “more like the hot older husband.” 

“hotter than me?” ony squints, teasing. 

“oh, way hotter.” 

“yeah nigga, nah,” ony cackles, snatching the toothpick from eren’s mouth with his teeth, ducking his head before eren swung on him and jogging backwards. 

their entire interaction stirred something fierce inside of you, watching the whole thing from the window after you’d made your way back downstairs. taking a seat inside of the tent, you stare out into the lake as you wait for your food, listening to oldies tunes eren played while making mental notes of their every move. 

seeing them act intimate without you made your stomach flip, and it was almost like you thoroughly found enjoyment in seeing them act like . . boyfriends? by this point, you think the whole act of best friends were out the window. the ordeal crossed your mind of having two boyfriends who not only liked you, but liked each other. who took care of you, protected you, loved you, made love to only you. it riled you up like no other. this was fucking hot. they were hot. 

its very . . grown. they were attractive beyond words. not only in just looks but how they carried themselves as men, how they spoke to each other, how they took care of you as if you were their lover, asking if you needed anything, pampering you, little acts of service that showed that they wanted you. 

when dinner was ready, they fixed you a plate, letting you stay put and not touch a thing. taking their places beside you, the three of you chow down on your food in long awaited relief, not eating a thing all day, the two of them even surprised you hadn’t moaned about it at all. 

with eren’s hand grazes your lower back suddenly, your attention goes to him, the muscles in his jaw tensing as he chewed before spitting out a bone into the grass. “it’s good, baby? it’s hot enough?”

face flushing with heat, you nod. “uh huh, it’s really good. thank you, rennie.” 

“you need some more juice, mama?” ony asks, grabbing your cup to refill it before you even answer. 

“thank you, onya.” 

it’s like you couldn’t breathe in their presence anymore. they were so gentle and sweet to you, your body genuinely couldn’t handle it, trying to hold yourself back from reacting on what your vagina wanted right now. be patient. that’s what you’re here for. this was a retreat to establish your relationship, not for sex. but god knows you’re trying to be good. 

the next day was really an adventure. traveling through steep hills and nature for a hike to start off the day, holding onto eren for dear life when he coaxes you to shimmy over a cliff after you cried real tears about falling. 

“i’m g’na fucking die, i’m g’na fucking die! i don’t w’na go yet, please!” 

they’d both tell you multiple times that they wouldn’t let you fall, holding on to you while steering their own balance. the destination was to see one of the biggest waterfalls in the state from high above. you loved waterfalls, so that’s mostly why you were here right now, otherwise you would’ve said fuck no and told them to have fun while you relaxed for the day. 

after many cries and screams of terror, you made it to the top of the mountain, cheering in victory. onyankopon had brought his digital camera so he could capture photos while you and eren sat down to make giant club sandwiches. 

back at home around sunset, eren would draw you a bubble bath in the claw foot tub, giving you kisses while rubbing your back and telling you how good of a job you did. ony cooked up dinner this time, telling you to relax for the night, feeling bad for overexerting you today. they’d put a funny movie on the big screen and converse for the remainder of the night, you falling asleep in eren’s lap after he’d continuously rubbed every part of your body soothingly. they carried on talking, their voices even being heard in your dreams. 

at last came sunday. it was the last day you’d spend up here before heading back home tomorrow morning. the weather was beautiful out, warmth blowing through the cream curtains that flowed heavenly with the wind. you woke up in the bed alone, stuffed under thick pillows and soft sheets in the king sized mattress. 

you’re topless, always sleeping better half naked with only silk shorts clinging to your hips. your bonnet had long slipped off your scalp, thankful you didn’t toss too much in your sleep for you to ruin your hair. the smell of bacon engulfed the bedroom, hearing faint sounds of kitchenware scraping, throats clearing, and dish-ware being restocked. 

anxiety suddenly crept into your system when you realized it was time to have the talk. if there’s anything you hated more than anything, it was confrontation. rolling your head into the pillow you wanted to bury your face in for the whole day, you release a deep sigh, sitting on your thoughts for a few extra minutes before getting out of bed. 

a shower was needed first, dying for the energy of hot steamy water to prepare you for what’s ahead. you’re not sure if they had conversations alone regarding this, not that they’ve mentioned. you wonder if they were just as nervous, or if they had concerns about this, or about you. could they equally see themselves being with you, together? sharing you in a romantic way outside of just sexually? their actions should’ve proven that by now, but you were in denial. you needed confirmation through words to mend the actions they gave.

slipping on one of their t-shirts after fully freshening up, your tummy began to growl with hunger. you couldn’t even think to eat right now, mind too occupied.  

making your way down the steep staircase, the open living room gave you a view of both men in the kitchen, shirtless and in their own worlds. ony’s plating food on the chinaware while eren’s washing dishes and reading the newspaper he leaned up against the window above the sink, mumbling something to ony about road blockades and fuck ass hunters killing animals heading towards extinction. 

fists are balling and unclenching repeatedly as your stomach continues to bother you between hunger and nervousness. padding your feet down the last few stairs, you approach them with a soft, faint smile, trying to play it off by sniffing the food. they whipped up a plethora of breakfast, overdoing it a tad. bacon, belgium waffles, eggs, cut up arrangements of fruits and even croissants. either they were really hungry or they distracted themselves from thinking by cooking the entire fridge. which technically would make sense given they couldn’t bring much back home.

“good morning,” you announce yourself, their heads turning immediately in your direction. “this is a lot of food, we inviting others?”

ony grins, scratching his scalp over his bonnet. “just us three piggies.”

“right,” snorting, you shake your head before taking a seat at the kitchen island, ony sliding a plate your way first, everything aesthetically presented. “thank you.”

“ ‘course, mama.”

there goes the endearing names again, inhaling sharply before picking at your food with a fork, smelling the coffee eren had brewing.

“you want some?” 

it’s like he knew you were staring his way, gawking at him while nibbling on your lip, spacing out. eren looked like an angel today. unsure of what was different, his skin glowed under the sun’s rays beaming through the window. chocolate strands getting longer, almost grazing his shoulders, slightly frizzed causing curly ringlets to form on the ends. green eyes piercing into yours in a soft slant, like he was admiring you as you were him. his back is broad, frame slightly hunched over the coffee machine as his veiny arms reach for a few mugs to pour everyone a cup.

the gray sweatpants he wears hangs dangerously low on his waist, turning his chest to you where you foam at the mouth seeing the dark trail of hair lead down his pants, the imprint of his dick just sitting directly on his thigh. abs are defined, keeps them right in the gym. veins protruding out of his bulky arms insanely. the slight stubble he possessed on his chin and stache area made you shift in your seat. 

jesus christ. 

“꒰ ♥︎ ꒱.”

“y-yes, please. thank you.”

taking a few bites of your fruit, you swing your feet and try to come up with a way to present this conversation. so instead of overanalyzing, you lead it with your heart. 

“i know what i feel for you both isn’t wrong,” you flat out say, laying it on the table as is.

onyankopon and eren freeze in their spots as if they’d been caught in some game, hearts thumping erratically in their chests. eren tongues his cheek, bringing your coffee over along with the condiments before he’s taking his seat next to ony who’d already fallen still. twiddling with your fingers, you reposition yourself so you face them, their concentration on you even more nerve wrenching.

they knew this was coming, but they weren’t prepared for it, at least right now.

“there’s something deeper happening here and i’m really just — scared of what i feel, but i know i’m not unsure. i’m not confused about anything. i think i’ve come to a point where i’ve accepted that i have feelings for both of you, and i’m almost positive y'all feel the same for me as well. unless i’m reading into this differently.”

“you aren’t,” they say almost in synchronicity, which was kind of eerie.

eren sighs, setting down his mug and clasping his hands together as he leans forward, face serious and patient with your emotions. with all of your emotions. ony’s secretly thankful that he wanted to speak first, tending to have anxiety and needing a minute to curate his answer, wanting to say the right thing so it isn’t misconstrued.

“honestly, what i think is happening is not confusing. i’ve been thinkin’ a lot about us, trust me. i feel like i’m confident with myself to a point where i don’t feel like i need a title to describe who i am. and knowing that has made me want to express myself more in our relationship.” 

“me as well. i like being able to be myself with you guys, even though it was always like that for us since we’re best friends. but, in the aspect of romance. i feel secure with the two of you, like i know nothing would ever change how happy you make me. feeling protected, loved, and cherished. but, i sometimes worry about how others would perceive us. and that makes shut down a little.”

“like the other day in the grocery store,” ony spoke up, shifting his eyes up from playing with his hands. 

“yeah, i sensed it, too,” eren follows. “i get it. i can get a hint on what goes on in their heads, however, i’m a grown ass man at the end of the day, if want somethin’, i want somethin’. i don’t care what people think, but i think the only reason it feels unordinary is because it’s fresh. it’s trying to settle with me on what this is. goin’ forward, i don’t think we can be just friends.” 

“we can’t ever go back,” you agree. “and even that worries me because if i feel a certain way, its not just my perspective going into this. i’d want you both to be sure, and be okay with this. and the last thing i’d want is to lose you as my friends.”

eren said most of the things onyankopon was too anxious to say himself. nonetheless, it gave him the confidence to speak his mind and release what’s been weighing on him. 

“i know that far in my heart i feel something for you. and, i don’t know if it’s just me feelin’ this way because we’re friends, so i’ve grown accustomed to it, and we’ve known each other for a long time. but, i just feel very protective — over both of you. shit, i don’t know if i’m making sense but — my whole life, i’ve always felt like i had to present myself a certain way. be a person that never felt entirely like me. always thinkin’ i had to remain strong, and resilient . . like a man should. not only because i know how scary society is, but being in my skin, coming from the family that i do, its never been the easiest to handle.”

“you’re making sense, ony,” eren makes him reassured of that.

nodding in agreement, you understand him completely, allowing him to finish speaking. 

“i know that i feel somethin’ for not only just you . . but eren,” ony releases a shaky breath he didn’t realize he was holding, tears beginning to spill from his eyes, and it makes you and eren instantly tear up. 

eren looks away, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat he swallows that tightened from pain. 

“i’ve never had anyone understand me more than y’all have,” ony sniffles. “when i’m with you, i can be myself. i’m never judged, my emotions are never invalidated, and i never have to put up a facade to please you. i can’t necessarily comprehend that because i don’t know the proper word i could use for it. it’s really hard for me to be fully sure of it right this instant — it’s really scary to fully accept what this is, but . . i know i’m not backin’ out of it. i’m just way too in it now, and i don’t see myself livin’ life without either of you.”

to see onyankopon in this state of choking on his words and passionately confessing what he’s been harboring broke you. going to reach for his hands, you kiss his fingers, sniffling as the tears continue to uncontrollably pour. 

“ony, i understand you more than anything. i know how hard this is to accept, but i know what’s most important is that we feel safe in our own space without the judgment of others. you don’t have to explain yourself to anyone but us. fuck everyone else.”

“i love both of you, i do,” ony finally exhales, pressing his forehead to yours, going to clutch his arm tight, eren holding his shoulder, eyes red.

“i love you too,” you nod, laughing and stroking his cheek, now feeling eren’s cheek on yours, the three of you pressed together, taking in each other’s scents and warmth.

“i love y’all too, always have and always will,” eren chuckles, wiping his face. “when i’m with y’all, it just feels like we’re in our own world, like nothin’ matters. no one’s understood me like the way y’all have.” 

“i’m just scared,” ony adds. 

“so am i, but we can take it slow. its a big thing, we don’t have to have everything figured out right this moment,” eren caresses both of your backs, your body half on the counter to be closer to them.

as much as this weighed on him heavily, ony knew he could trust no one else but you and eren with all of his being. he’s conjured up multiple scenarios regarding this, and as new and different this was, he also didn’t want a title. he just knows he wants this. both of you devoted to him, as you to eren, as eren to you. 

“i know the two of you would never hurt me, nor each other. i just want some form of security that i am the only woman you see yourselves being with. i don’t want to just be someone you share or possess over just because we’re close. i want to know you love me outside of our friendship. that you’re willing to pour your all in to me, cause i can’t bare knowing that it’d be a possibility.”

“you are the only woman i want, ꒰ ♥︎ ꒱. the only one. trust me when i say that, baby,” eren’s stern about it, making sure you don’t get the wrong impression.

“the only fuckin’ woman.”

hearing that makes you weak in the knees, standing to come around and embrace them tightly in a hug, their hands resting on your lower back with their faces pressed into yours side by side. taking in this moment, the desire burning within you radiates on to them, trailing your hands up their backsides to grasps their necks. turning your face, your lips crash into eren’s mouth, sucking on his lips as he groans into you, spanking your ass jolting you forward.

ony grunts in your neck, nipping the area gently with his teeth before he’s grabbing your chin to bring your face to him with equal fervor, eren unable to fully detach his mouth, too drunken, before they’re kissing you all at once. moaning and squirming in your spot, your eyes falter shut as your lips follow their lead. 

it’s intense, every rough grip from their hot hands on your flesh, tugging you side to side between them both in an almost heated rivalry. cupping their faces, to hold them still, all of your tongues grazing — it’s pure filth. 

“take me upstairs and fuck me,” it comes out as a whimper, a pout on your face, unable to stop your body from showing how badly you needed them from the gyrates of your hips.  

“fuck, c’mere,” ony snatches you up, knocking the chair over and picking you off the ground, your slippers falling off, legs wrapped around him. 

eren sucks on his pink lips, clutching your ankle and trailing behind ony with another hand down his sweats, rubbing his dick as he kissed the arch of your foot. since the bedroom didn’t have a door, it was easy for him to walk straight through and lay you flat on your back. keening, you squirm in your spot under their gazes, biting your lip and tugging the shirt you wore over your head, tits spilling out and soft tummy on display. every part of you is delicate, ony gripping either side of your waist before smoothing them down to your ankles, dragging you towards the edge of the bed where he pulls your pretty feet up to his mouth to suck on your toes.

mouth going agape, you make a squeaky noise, fisting the sheets beneath your fingertips, his fat lips engulfing every pedicured toe, a heavy tongue slicking over the arch of your foot. knees spasming out of shock from what you feel crawling up the nerves in your hips, clashing together which applies more pressure to your clit that’s soaked behind those plump folds from what eren could see, whom weakly lowered down to his knees at the edge of the bed like he was under your spell. 

onyankopon’s glare is dark, watching you suck in air and tremble from his touch before he’s releasing you and lowering down to his knees next to eren. eren grabs your thigh to keep it pinned to the bed while ony does the same to the other, grunting with his face close to your pussy. 

“my fuckin’ pretty girl,” eren growls, landing a gentle spank to your clit in which you hiccup and clench your hole, them in awe with the way it pulsated. 

by this point you’re nibbling on your acrylic, nearly shoving two fingers into your own mouth, panting with need. open for them to do whatever they wanted to you. its a crime how sexy you sound when a broken moan loudly erupts the moment eren’s mouth encapsulates your puffy clit, tonging it with hard sloshes and sucks from his perfect lips. 

“mmfuck, baby,” eren whines, and it makes you cry. humming and whimpering pathetically. the way he’s loud with it makes you lose your mind. “so fuckin’ sweet. lemme see her stretch all out on my fingers.”

“k-kay,” nodding, you prepare yourself for them, knowing how much he loved to put them in you. let them sink in slow before stroking and carefully curling his fingers into it. which he does while ony takes his turn with you, your tummy sinking in from his tongue circling your sensitive bud with saliva trickling down your ass crack, his eyes shut while he hums and shakes his head in it.

“lick her pretty ass clit — jus’ like that,” eren encourages, both men dragging out groans with every thrust of eren’s finger and lick from ony’s tongue. 

“oo-oohmygod, oh mmmgod.”

eyes scrolling back, noises get caught in your throat when you start to cum, missing their touch so desperately it had your body spasming and cumming just to show them how much you loved them. giving them a little something extra when your pussy gets juicer with every stroke from both parts, pushing out liquid and screaming into your knees, soaking the mattress. 

“awe, yeah baby, get that fuckin’ nut. feel it all, mama. keep goin’, keep goin’,” ony grunts, spanking your ass which only worsens your arousal, pushing out more like he asked, the pads of eren’s fingers stroking the sweetest spot.

“yesdaddy yeassdaddy.”

“shit, ꒰ ♥︎ ꒱. your fuckin’ voice, baby,” eren can’t help but touch his dick again, lowering his sweats to fist his dick, squeezing it, precum dripping from the tip. “lemme taste that shit.”

onyankopon wasn’t letting up, jaw shifting the longer he eats at your pussy, your legs shaking as he continues to spank your ass after every taste. eren needed it for himself now, saying fuck it and placing his mouth right where ony’s is, licking your pussy together, their tongues occasionally touching. thrashing and sloshing, eating you up.

“f-fuck, please! c-can’t baby,” as much as you protested, their slurps only made your vision dizzy, unable to hold eye contact and fluttering your eyelids. “ugh, fuckfuck.”

they make you push out one more stream before letting up off you, tears in your sockets as you try to gather yourself. eren lays french kisses all over your thighs, leading his way up your chest before he’s smooching your lips, fisting your hair and pulling your head back while he makes you taste how fucking good you were to them. 

“g’na feel her real quick, can’t take it,” onyankopon announces in a hushed tone, eyes low and lips drenched in your essence. he’s got his dick weighing in his palm, slapping your fat pussy a few times with it before pushing past that tight ring.

eren clenches his jaw, clutching your neck to make you focus on ony fucking you. you’re biting a finger, dazed while keeping your eyes on his as he drops his dick into you hard. he went slow the first couple of strokes, letting you adjust and droll over the sight of his girth, dick curved downward, darker than his skin tone, veiny and filling you up. 

“oooshit, onya,” lips pursing, you can hardly breathe. eren sucking and licking at your neck while ony stuffs you full. it was so good.

“yess, mama, take this . . fuckin’ . . dick. be a big girl.”

“big girls get pretty dick jus’ like this,” eren whispers in your ear gruffly, pressing his forehead to your temple, spanking your tits now. 

whew, that was a fucking line. 

it was second nature for you to fall into submission and be good for them, hiking your legs up to your chest so he’d sink further, ass going in his palms while he digs and fucks you with rough intensity. pounding steadily, hearing you squelch all around his cock. ony and eren’s brows are furrowed, eren’s dick jumping from how well ony’s fucking you and coaxing the filthiest, sweetest sounds from your throat. 

ony moans, having to fight himself to stop, grasping his dick and sliding out as the sunlight from the windows catch the glisten on his shaft. its eren’s turn. stepping out of his pants and flipping you on your stomach before hiking your ass back, he aggressively grips and slams a hot palm down to see it bounce — like waves of water. clashing against his groin the instant he gets his dick in you, holding on to the mattress with all of your strength, screaming louder as he pistons his hips and claps your ass back on his dick with every long thrust.

dropping back lazily, every ridge is felt inside of you, eyes ghosted white and drooling out the mouth, gasping in increments and whining like you’d lost consciousness, fully out of your headspace. 

“‘r-rennn,” you can only get his name out, it being enough to express the pleasure, sobbing uncontrollably. 

eren’s got his hand on the back of your neck, locking you still, spreading his muscular thighs further apart before angling his hips so he could fuck you harder, tip prodding your sweet spot, balls plopping against your clit. your hands began flailing, sniffling and choking on moans, skin colliding loudly, eren’s jaw wide and eyes shut, his chain swinging and gliding across your back.

“shitt, pussy gettin’ me fuckin’ right, baby,” eren whimpers. “nngh, look at you. dick jus’ beatin’ your shit in, and you’re fuckin’ screamin’.”

onyankopon senses your need for a breather, planting your face into your arms and going limp, back staying arched for him because his dick sits deliciously at just the right place. 

“eren, give her a minute,” ony’s almost stern.

“n-nooo!” tone fucked out, you alarmingly reject. “m’cummingg,”

“yeahh,” eren growls with a dirty grin. “ gimme that shit. right fuckin’ now, ꒰ ♥︎ ꒱.”

the pressure builds up scarily quick, bursting and crumbling on his dick, getting this sudden urge of excitement as you pick yourself up and began throwing your ass back on him, eren gasping out ‘woah, shit’ and catching you so he wouldn’t fall back, pussy throbbing around him.

“you likin’ it, mama?” eren hums, allowing you to lose yourself on him, trying his best to hold back from cumming. you were fucking sexy. “huh? its good to you?”

“dick soo gooddd,” you cry, slowly easing your movements but still wanting the tip in, hating the emptiness.

“mhm,” he makes the initiative to pull out, immediate sadness washing over your features as ony takes you away from him. eren realized just how rough he’d been, needing you to take a minute. “i’m sorry, baby. you okay?”

heavy breathing from both ends, eren leans his weight on one knee that’s dipped into the mattress while he slaps a hand down on the other, regaining air, sweat appearing on his forehead. almost like it was a damn workout. he was too pent up from not fucking you since the last time, not even daring to relieve himself until you gave him the green light to touch you again. 

smiling into your arm whilst you laid your cheek on ony’s thigh, you silently answer by caressing his leg. “c’mere.”

patting the empty space of the bed, eren sits opposite to ony while they watch you lower to sit on the floor before them, taking their big hands in yours, uttering, “stand up.”

curiosity piquing, they obey. tall figures looming over you in deadly masculinity, and its like seeing this sight regained your energy off rip. lashes batting innocently, though far from, you grin once their breaths hitch as you take their dicks in either hand, dangerously, slowly leveling your lips with ony’s first, his stomach tensing as you take his dick into your throat. his hips twitch, hand coming to hover over the back of your head as you bob it, slobbering over it, sticking out your tongue so its flat on the underside, allowing him to glide easier.

“baby, damn. there we go,” his hips have a mind of their own, thrusting into your hollowed throat, whimpering each time he’d get to the very back of it.

then, you’re popping him free, looking at eren and doing the same to him. his fierce gaze always makes you nervous, but you know he’s internally praising you even before saying it. able to read him like no other. with him, you’re sucking faster, digging your nails into his thick thighs and fluttering your lashes, gagging around his cock while he grunts and rubs a hand over his abs, mouth opening every time your nose touched his groin.

releasing him, you make room for ony this time, placing both of their dicks on your tongue, swirling and giving cute kitty licks. they’re losing it. 

“꒰ ♥︎ ꒱, please. fuckin’ killin’ me,” the rumble in eren’s throat is viscous, close to taking your throat the way he really wanted. 

ony’s brows connect from your salaciousness, hooking on to eren’s bicep and laying his head on his shoulder, pleasure ultimately consuming him as he jerks off into your mouth. eren can’t take it, and does something neither of you expected him to do. eren bends his body low so he’s to your angle, eyes locked as you sloppily swallow the head of his cock before he’s kissing you directly over it, tongue running over his own dick momentarily before it enters the cavern of your mouth. 

eyes wide, you drag out a moan when he softly lands a palm on the side of your face, dick jumping between your lips.

ony’s grip gets tighter on erens arm. “oh my fuckin’ god.”

you’d think it’d been another drunken night the way you were all acting, but in each of your minds you had come to terms with the fact that you’re just nasty for one another. all of you brought out something from within you’d never expect. 

it wasn’t long before they had you laying on your side, chest to chest with eren while onyankopon laid behind, squirting lube over his dick while eren takes his time easing back into your pussy, still so wet for them. 

“you feel so fuckin’ good, so fuckin beautiful,” eren pecks your lips, smoothing your hair away from your face, inching his cock just enough so it feels good and there’s enough room for one more. 

gulping, you steady your breathing, trying to prepare yourself for this new position. eren’s fisting his dick, holding it slightly upward so ony could fit, wanting to feel you together. “you g’na let ony in? you g’na make room for him?”

“unh huh,” you focus on his pretty face, ony massaging your ass in his big palm. 

“look at me,” ony strains, turning your face so he’d get your attention. “just relax, we got you.”

“if it hurts, tell us.”

thankful for their reassurance, you calm down, giving them the say-so to use you for their release, satisfied with what you were given. ony guides his dick in carefully, eren rolling his lips inward from the brush of ony’s underside against his, a blush of red creeping over his cheekbones. inhaling through his nose, ony begins to thrust, your face screwing up as you clutch onto eren’s arm in shock, a gasp flowing.

“ooo, this feels so good,” its almost a disbelief, never expecting to ever do anything like this, but it felt right. “ungh, eren — move, please.”

eren lays his forehead on yours while ony takes your nipple into his mouth, thrusting slow to take in a moment that felt passionate. the way their hands caressed your skin all over, eren capturing your lips in a searing kiss. his tongue invades your mouth, exploring the warm cavern with the same intensity he had used earlier between your legs before ony steals some for himself. 

then came the impatience. the brewing need to fuck you like you begged for them silently through your eyes. ony’s holding your left thigh up so he can stroke like he wanted after eren removed his cock, ony moaning with a whiny pitch in your face as he clutched your neck tight, air supply limited. skin clapping harshly, his toned hips pounding into your plush ass, yanking you back on it. the wind is repeatedly knocked out of you, balling up your fists and taking all he gives.

thighs shaking, you’re panting heavily, trying to pull closer to eren so ony’s halfway out of you, finally shoving all his dick in you, splitting you open, pussy fluttering around him.

“onyyyy,” you whine, toes curling, feet almost scrambling.

“nah, don’t fuckin’ run. come take this fuckin’ dick. you promised me, be a good girl and keep it,” ony swats your ass, eren rubbing your pussy, brows knitted as he listens to your sluice cunt. 

“let him get his nut off so i can have mine,” eren orders, screaming in his face and nibbling on the fingers he shoves past your lips. “shh, you want him, don’t you?”

“y-yes— want you too, rennie.”

“so what i say? let him take it.”

“uunhh, shit. unh, baby — yess,” ony’s voice is audible as he cums, your rambles of ‘nut in me, nut in me’ streaming from you depravedly. onyankopon hisses, swatting your ass as he grinds his dick slow, biting your neck and catching his breath.

moving yourself off of him, the heat broadens in your face as the trickle of his cum now coats eren’s dick whom turned your body around to press your back to his chest. rubbing the tip over your clit, he rests the weight of it on your mound. “slide me in.”

“mmph,” whimpering, you take his dick in your hand to line him up, helping him by lowering your pussy on to it as he thrusts upwards, a death grip on your hip.

“fuckin’ love this ‘lil girl,” eren’s tone is gruff, beating your pussy sore. “ahh, you too, baby. milk that fuckin’ dick.”

sobbing, you hang your arms around ony’s neck, whining as eren yanks your ass back to clap onto his sharp hips. “he fuckin’ you good, baby?”

“s-soo good, onya. can’t think.” 

“you feelin’ it? finna cum again?” ony continues to taunt.

“unh huh, feelin’ it daddyyy,” whining in a drowsy mess, you’re slurring your words, onyankopon grinning and kissing you.

“i love watchin’ you cum for me," eren whispers in your ear, thrusts get sloppy, that build up pushing in his abdomen.

“i love when you watch me cum,” you whisper back, pussy clenching tight on his dick, no ability to announce it once you do so.

he didn’t need to hear you say it, knowing it by how much tighter you’d gotten, hole beating around his cock in hard pushes and sucks. locking his forearm around your neck, eren speeds up just for the hell of it, fucking you till his cum mixes with ony’s and heaving into your neck.

the moment you begin crying is when they realize how much this meant to you. cradling you in their arms under the warm sun, kissing every inch of you, asking if you’re okay, cleaning you up just to come back and bask in the embrace. whispers of ‘i love you’s back and forth, allowing one another to feel important. whatever came after this, you hoped it was worth the wait.

you’re real pretty today. a sight for sore eyes, really. a doll. adorned in a cute white frilly camisole with bloomers that are raised so high he could see the creases that hide under your ass daring to hang out. shiny and brand new black mary jane’s on soft, painted feet. sheer stockings on thick thighs. you’d curled your hair, too. styled in luscious wand curls that started to frizz up a bit from the fall weather, close to sixty degrees. so sad to say, he had to mess you up. couldn’t wait to, actually. his chest rises in excitement at the image of tearing every form of clothing off your skin. it burns in his mind, shows in the way he looks at you.

it’s foggy out, midday and close to getting dark. the two of you in the middle of nowhere. he’s on borrowed time. didn’t want the wolves eating at you before he does. therefore, he glances at the watch on his wrist with a bushy brow arched, a smirk inching its way there. “i’ll give you a two minute start. think you can get far?”

you’re unsure if that was a real question or a joke. so, you nod your head yes.

toji snickers. “mm. dicks already pumped just thinkin’ about it.”

the ache of a heavy sack ready to fill you up full of cum has the beefy man groaning and squeezing his jean covered thighs together before releasing and rolling his neck. his fingers could shake from how bad he needed you to run, right now. the muscles in his body are ready to chase after you and pin you down with no mercy. toji gives you one last look, up and down, watching you suck on your bottom lip as you stand cutely with your hands clasped in front of you, bouncing in your spot anxiously — before saying his final command.

“run . . and if you stop, and i catch you — i’m fucking you.”

like that, your adrenaline is activated. it’s unclear how long you’d been running, unable to have the time to catch your breath. heavy pants and gasps come out in exasperations, fear coursing through your veins alongside arousal. the knowing of him hunting you to fuck you altered your brain chemistry. the fear to be caught by your predator like a little lamb stumbling over two new legs exhilarated you.

dashing through the woodsy forest filled with enormously high trees and tiny critters. pretty moss filtering the area, and a nearby waterfall resounding the peaceful scenery. every breath you take is audible, like you wanted him to hear where you were. birds chirped, cicadas sang, and the water streamed louder the closer you’d gotten. hopping over huge rocks and boulders to find a hiding spot to take a quick breather. you’d lay your forehead against the back of your palm, puffing out your lips slowly to steady your lungs, closing your eyes momentarily before keeping watch of your surroundings.

turning your back, you go to sit for a moment, the breeze from the waterfall that’s directly facing you giving you comfort to shut your eyes again — only to hear a branch crack. quickly, you’d whip your head in the direction of the sound, eyes blowing from the sight of a fawn, trying your absolute best not to scream out in awe. it’s a tiny little creature whom looked like it was trying to find its way back home. back to safety. in comparison, it’s almost as if you were staring at your reflection. scared and needing protection. you’re not supposed to be stopping.

you’d hear another crack of a branch followed by a whistle of a tune. it’s closer now, heart speeding back up once the fawn had taken off, and that was your sign to as well. standing to your full height, you go to shuffle over a tree stump to find another path, not wanting to be in the animals way or possibly lead yourself to it’s territory. though, you’re in no luck when you catch the silhouette of your boyfriend’s body emerging from a sequoia, and that’s when panic sets in.

holding your breath, you shield yourself behind a giant tree, eyes darting side to side trying to think fast on what you could do — where you could go. if you ran right now he’d definitely see you. creating a distraction seemed to be the only option. bending down, you find a couple of medium sized rocks to toss in the opposite direction of where you are. you’d chuck them hard, hitting branches further away from you, peaking an eye to see him turn his head towards the noise.

his hands are shoved in his pockets, sharp jaw shifting as he slowly chewed his gum to keep his mind from wondering off about how hard he’s g’na fuck you when he sees you. humming to himself, you study him as he walks away, giving you enough time to sprint and find another spot.

thinking you were safe was funny.

it’s almost if he knew you’d come up with a lousy idea of creating sound distraction. although your shoes kept your movements silent, he could hear your soft voice whimpering and panting even if he was a mile away. it’s nearly horrifying when your ears pick up the noise of him running towards you in attempt to grab you. eyes bulging out of their sockets when spotting him, and the hunger in his eyes. squealing, you try not to laugh when pressing strength into your legs as you rush through the woods, but just not fast enough to get away.

and then, you’re caught.

“got you, doll.”

screaming when his arm is quick to wrap around your waist to scoop you off the ground and holding your back to his hard chest. the hotness of his skin on yours makes you melt in his touch, his lips grazing the lobe of your ear and area of your neck in heavy pants and a needy groan, forcing you to grind your ass back on his clothed dick. toji’s pent up, and so were you, soaking your panties as he pushes you up against a tree while holding your hands above your head.

with your ass pushed out and spine arched deep, toji grunts behind you, landing two heavy palms on either side of your ass. he’s pulling your bloomers to your knees, fingers roughly tearing the fabric of your stockings off to gain access to what he needed. when he sees her, she’s fat and wet as always. slick creating a string of cum connected to your undergarments he pulls to the side. puffy, shiny, and warm. he gave your pussy a swat with four fingers, grunting as you squeak and giggle.

toji’s rubbing all four, thick fingers against your clit that hides between the folds, your teeth sinking in your lip the same time as your lashes flutter while staring back at him. hearing him unraveling the hefty belt on his waist to pull out his dick has you clenching your inner thighs, hips rotating in the air, inviting him in. keeping your wrists crossed one over the other against the tree, you bend your neck so you can see how badly he craved you.

his pants are lowered to hang loosely on his toned waist, that thin line of hair trailing from his belly button to his groin making you shift in your position. following the path with slanted eyes and seeing his rough palm stroke over his dick he spit over, fat and heavy. measuring about eight and a half inches. so big it could split you open real good, curved upwards and indented with veins. pretty pink tip, too. matched his lips well.

toji’s furrowing his brows as he sloshes the tip against your opening, the two of you listening to how wet you were for him and simply from the adrenaline of being hunted.

“good shit, mama,” toji hisses, curving his hand slighting as he swats your ass cheek. “fuck, she’s so pretty f’me. open it up.”

whining, you nod in full submission, head cloudy and wanting him more than anything. reaching between yourself, you use your fingers to separate your folds apart so he could see the deep pink inside some more, cum just leaking out. playfully, you throw your ass back for attention, toji hissing again and grabbing your waist to hold you still.

“move that pussy, get your daddy wet,” he’s urging with a deep voice, smoothing a palm up your backside while aligning his dick just inside your folds so you can glide on him easily.

toji’s gathering the fullness of your curly hair in both of his hands, making a ponytail before holding it out of the way so he could really get a good look at your face. leaning back some, his other arm hangs limply as you stand on your tippy toes to glaze your juices over his dick, moaning weakly each time the head bumped into your clit. he wants it all wet, and you listen. hips twitching from desperation and humping his cock a tad bit faster, swiveling and bouncing the flesh of your ass back.

“that’s it, get that shit, baby. yeah,” his toned stomach finds itself sinking in, holding his breath to really focus on how hot you felt. even how much prettier you looked. “fuck, c’mere.”

trying your best not to dig your acrylics into the harsh trunk, you reach behind yourself to rake your fingers through the soft tresses of his black hair, tugging as he laps your pussy into his mouth, spit and your elixir coating his chin as he fully stuffs his face in it.

“oooh, baby— unh yesss,” mouth agape, you can’t halt the flow of your moans, nor the vocal point of them. thick tongue dipping into you to wring out more of that nectar he’s fucking loony about, wanting the taste all on his palate. wanting the scent to linger on his nose.

with every suck on your clit and thrash of his tongue, he’s molding the flesh of your ass toward his face, and you’re now wrapping your arms around the tree as best you can so you won’t fall. every smack to your ass is loud, and leaves a delicious sting. you can hear him gulping you down, heaving in it, tasting it slow then licking fast. now he’s grabbing the front of your thighs to make you fuck back on his tongue, both of your eyes scrolling into your skulls — you from how good it felt, tongue just as filling as his dick could be, and him — just being able to taste you.

“annh!” you gasp when he leaves you to stand back up, your hips unable to stop from moving as tears dare to fall.

a fistful of your hair is back in his grasp, yanking your head back so it touches his chest.

“taste your pussy,” he’s strict with it before he’s mushing his lips on to yours, eating your face up and sliding his tongue with yours feverishly.

then, he’s back to rubbing his dick up and down your opening to hear it gush again, clutching your neck up and finally pushing past those tight, gummy walls. pussy pulling and gripping him in deep, giving you his all till his pelvis touches the brown globes of your ass. toji’s laying his forehead on your temple, breathing in and out with you, both eyes closed. he’s holding your hair in his fist still, taking some air from you by the hold on your throat as he’s gyrating his waist and stroking into you slowly.

“unh, huh. daddy’s gooddd girlll — y-yes,” when his voice drags and breaks, that’s when you lose it, dropping your mouth and basking in your blurry vision. ass clapping back on him with every steady pound.

it picks up, and when it does, you’re immediately whimpering and whining, going dumb on it so fast you’ve already got drool seeping from the corner of your mouth. toji groans, darting his big tongue out to lick up the side of your face and shoves it back into your mouth, moaning from your sweet taste. he pistons his dick harder now, rough claps of skin echoing in the forest. every bounce of your ass back on him makes your pussy squelch.

“y-yesss, ungh. keep fucking me. keep. fucking. me.”

“got good ass pussy, baby. suck this shit up. clench all on it. this your dick,” toji’s panting in your ear, a spot that’s all too sensitive and makes you feel it all through your body. those hot tingles traveling even in your belly. his voice makes it no better.

“it’s my dick,” you cry out, sniffling and whining pathetically. you’re so loud.

“that’s what i fuckin’ said.”

a broken scream falters out when he goes to nibble at your spot on your neck, bawling your fists up and hiccuping when he bites into it with his teeth, tongue lolling out after to taste the lingering smell of your perfume. it’s like fluffy cinnamon rolls with yummy icing. you’re fucking good, all around. he loved tasting you. eating you, biting you. fucking you harder and holding you still with his teeth like a primal fucking animal. you are his prey after all.

toji switched your position in a blink of an eye, having you flat down on grass and dirt with your nails digging into the green covered nature.

your favorite thing that he does is move you into each position he wanted without telling you. dragging you around like his little plaything. he’d set your arch just so your ass is high enough to hit at an certain angle. removing your camisole, he places it underneath you so your pussy didn’t fully touch the ground, white fabric now sprinkled with specks of dirt.

a heated hand finds itself on the back of your neck, toji keeping you in place as he slides his dick back in, eyeing the way you engulf and flutter around him. he’s leveling his weight onto his fist that sinks into the ground, holding himself above you and plopping his hips down aggressively, dropping his dick in rough and steady.

the weight of him on top of you, and the heaviness of his dick filling you up and fucking you good, it catches you off guard, hiccuping out gasps and sinking your nails deeper into the ground. your body is jolting with every thrust, his sharp groin colliding ridiculously loud with your skin as he grunts and pants above you. you feel so small beneath him, enveloped by his size.

he smelled good, too. always did. a spicy bergamot seeped into his skin, the smell of a beer he took a few swigs of on the couch before you left resides alongside the scent of cigarettes. he’s so grown, he makes you feral.

“t-tojiii, f-fuck. dick soo big, baby,” you’re wheezing into the grass, unable to move at all.

“mhmm” is all he says in reply at first, face screwed up and biting his lip hard. you’re so fucking hot. this is fucking hot. “cream on your fuckin’ dick, baby. pretty ass girl.”

“mm-mm, i’m your pretty girl, daddy?”

“fuckyes,” it’s rushed out in a moan, the weak tone in your voice making his dick twitch, and you felt it. “the prettiest fucking girl. prettiest pussy. pretty everything, doll.”

“talkin’ t-to me soo goodd. i can’t.”

every thrust leaves you stuttering, closing your eyes and just laying there to take what he gives. it’s relentless, needy, fucking sexy the way he growls above you and fucks himself into you to get you both there. he liked cumming with you. made him feel good inside and out. felt connected to you more, actually.

“yeah? how ‘bout you talk this nut outta me,” toji’s now laying his weight fully on to you, hard chest on your backside, both of you getting sticky while he grips your face in his palm and smacks it each time he thrusts. “you hear me, huh? talk to me.”

you’re dizzy under him, pulling his thumb into your mouth to suck while his fingers pat your cheek with little to no force, going a little harder every second you’re sobbing. nibbling on his finger, you rotate your ass back on him with all the strength you could muster, squeaking after he begins to push on that spongey part deepest inside. belt clanking from every aggressive movement.

“want your cum, baby. please, please. fill me up. w’na be full. w’na make you feel g-good.”

“mmm, shit,” toji pulls his lips inwardly, focusing on your voice and fucking you harder. “that’s what you want, huh? you want me to cum all in it? should i film it dripping out, too? g’na touch your pussy to it?”

nodding frantically, you begin to cry real tears, the pleasure overwhelming you and your orgasm approaches headily. “y-yess, i doo — i will. i’m g’na cummm. cum in me, toji. want it drippin’ outta me.”

“fuck, that’s how you talkin’ to me? got a voice on you, baby,” toji’s losing his fucking mind, hitting into you with uncanny force. “fuck, cum on it. ima fill you up.”

with all of your strength, you clap your ass up to match his rhythm, fucking him back as he continues to drop his dick into you, knocking you down every time you pick back up, losing his stroke and vibrating as you milk his dick for all he’s got, spurting into you and filling you up just like he promised — just like you wanted. the coil in your tummy snaps and you’re writhing beneath him, holding your breath to feel it more intensely and squeezing your thighs tight to guide the pulse towards your clit.

“babyyyy, ohmygod,” every cry comes out in disbelief, trying to process how good he’s making you feel.

and he’s still going.

locking his buff forearm around your neck, he’s pinning his knees on either side of your body, humping his cock into you deeper, spreading your legs to feel his balls plop against your clit with every greedy pound. growling in your ear and feeling the cum from you both oozing out of you and onto your shirt you laid on.

“fuckk, that’s my doll. look at you jus’ takin’ it. got us both creamy.”

the level of your whimpers fuel him, and he still doesn’t stop. talking in your ear crazy, fucking you through another orgasm, pussy fluttering around him and you fight to escape but knowing him, you can’t leave until he’s fully finished.

“gimme your mouth, ꒰ ♥︎ ꒱,” toji groused, gripping your face still with fingers indented in your cheeks, full lips pursing out. “yeah, open it up. stick your tongue out.”

as told, you lay out your tongue flat, doe eyes glossy and face staining your light makeup with tears. he felt so fucking good and you loved him so much for listening to your desires and making this moment real. all of those countless daydreams and begging him to fulfill it finally came true. toji’s inching his face closer to get a good drop of spit on your tongue, kissing you with his big mouth encapsulating your own.

that dizzy spell starts to get to you, toji’s flushed hands repeatedly swatting your ass the more he stuffs you up, bitten red lip jutted out when he feels that familiar ache in the pit of his stomach once again. heatedly lifting up your lower halve and plunging his dick as you gush out all over him, tits bouncing, holding tight to what you can as he convulses and guides you to grind on his dick.

“f-fuck, m’cumming,” the baritone of his voice gets louder, sounding broken as he prods and pushes, tossing his head back to show the apple in his throat bobbing. “mmmm.”

it’s fucking sloppy when he pulls out, huffing and sweating, dropping his eyes to see his cum pouring out of you in awe. he’s humming elatedly, kissing up your spine as you lay in a puddle of mess and grime. smiling like an idiot, head mushy and toji grinning from your expression. giving you soft kisses to your cheeks and all over your face. looking like that, he was ready to fuck you again.

it’s what you asked for anyways.

its a lonely night. these past few months have been nothing but work for you. writing new songs, studio hours, staying on top of gym sessions with your hard-ass personal trainer, and preparing for another tour. you had to decompress, standing stern on your choice of pausing everything to take a mental health break for at least two months. you wanted to be left alone, spend time with your family and friends even . . feel normal. it sounded mediocre to say you hated being famous and missed your boring, regular life. but it was true. the money would always be nice, but nothing came close to feeling like just a human being rather than a robot.

it’s past midnight and you were unable to sleep. eating a good meal that consisted of garlic steak bites and broccolini alongside a healthy, filing smoothie before you took an everything shower. shaving, exfoliating, even painting your toes to now doing your skincare, face glowing in milk toner and snail mucin under the soft light of your lamp illuminating the room. 

your home was your safe space, always quiet, a place you couldn’t wait to come back to so you had the privilege of going completely non-verbal and straight faced without anyone questioning what was wrong or urging you to speak. it’s a big place, tucked into the top floor of a converted 1920s textile factory, it’s the perfect industrial loft, something you’ve dreamt of. it’s a cozy house you purchased and made a home from all your hard work. with its high ceilings, exposed brick walls, and oversized windows that gave anyone the opportunity to openly watch — it was serenely special. 

against one exposed wall, your dream minimalist kitchen gleams with dark concrete countertops, matte black cabinetry, and open shelving lined with copper pots, ceramic mugs, and wine bottles. heading down the tall staircase that lead straight into the living room with the kitchen directly underneath your bedroom — you go to grab a small snack and something to drink. you’re opening the vintage smeg fridge in cream to search for water and your favorite granny smith apples with caramel dip. you’d have to brush your teeth again before heading to sleep. 

in the corner of your eye, as you rip open the small packet of fruit, you swear you spot a shadowed figure in the crevice of your bookshelf and guest bathroom. gripping the bottle of water in your hand, you go to squint your eyes to double check and make sure you were just seeing things. you’d been up since five in the morning, running a few errands for the home like getting groceries for meal preps or cat litter for your fur baby snuggled in her corner currently by the glowing fish tank. you were tired, so you had to be seeing shit.

you turn for a moment, opening the bottle of water to take a sip, studying the area to clear your sudden fatigue. 

the man is there. 

watching intently, his eyes narrow as he sees you turn towards the shadowy area of the room where he stood. he’s been careful not to show himself yet, but he knows you suspect something is amiss. he feels his heart rate pick up slightly, watching as your eyes scan the room for any signs of movement. he’s torn between wanting to reveal himself and wanting to stay hidden in the shadows, observing you in your natural state. he can sense that you're feeling the creeping sensation of being watched, but he remains quiet and stationary in his spot by the entryway.

shaking it off, you go to head back up to your room to finish your movie and finally get comfy in bed. he waits until you are a few steps above the bottom floor before he starts to move swiftly. slowly and quietly, he pads across the living room, following you silently. he can already smell the sweet scent of your perfume and body wash, his senses heightened in the quiet of the night. the way your body moves in the soft light of your dim loft, flesh moving beneath the fabric of your clothing, or lack thereof. the slight bounce of your hips and ass as you ascend the stairs to leave him at the bottom. the man could feel his body reacting to your presence, needing to remain focused and following you up into your room.

he makes sure to stay far enough behind you so you don’t hear or see him. he doesn't have to worry much about making any noise, as the thick area rug covering the floor is plush under his feet and muffles his movements. he can hear the sound of the movie playing through the open door of your bedroom, and his gaze is stuck on the back of your body, the way you move and the shape of your daunting curves. 

he takes a deep breath, trying to control his growing desire to grab you, to feel the softness of your skin against his own. he has to remind himself to take it slow, to play the long game. he’s waited a long time for this moment, he can’t fuck it up. he can't ruin it now by acting too soon. he’s never felt this kind of intensity before, usually good on controlling his emotions. but you were like no other. an obsession.

he hears the rustling of fabric as you make yourself comfortable in bed, adjusting the covers and getting ready to watch another movie as the credits to this one rolled. the man leans against the wall outside your room, listening to the faint sound of the movie and the occasional shifting of the bed as you move. he can feel his body getting more and more tense, the desire to touch you becoming almost unbearable.

there you lay on your side, now streaming ‘the notebook’ with one leg thrown over the top of your comforter while the rest of you is tucked under, a sanrio plushie snuggled close in your arms by your head. soundly wrapped up and unaware of the predator lurking in your home. you are precious, he ponders. roaming over your figure, he takes in the way your shirt fits snugly across your chest, panties hugging your thick hips and supple ass poking out for attention. his fists clench involuntarily. a fucking delicacy you are. the blood is rushing to his dick aggressively now, mind racing with thoughts of what to do with you. 

he’s gotta do it, he has to hold you. 

he couldn’t take it any longer. so, he crosses the small space between the doorway and the bed in three long strides, towering over you as you lay mindlessly in bed, nearly drifting off to sleep. you look even more beautiful up close. features calm and innocent. his breath catches in his throat subtly; he couldn’t believe how close he was to you. to breathe you in, to envelop your beauty and pheromones. 

he doesn’t want to scare you. trying to ease his way into getting your attention. should he touch you first? would that scare you? or maybe he should make himself known. an introduction would only worsen the problem. he knows you, that’s all that mattered. you didn’t need to know him. 

the man speaks up, voice low and gruff as he utters, “turn around, sweetheart.” 

the scream that erupts from you is deadly. it’s puncturing his ear drums when you jump in your spot from the baritone of the voice in your room. in your state of panic, you’d face the intruder in your home, rolling over to the opposite side of the mattress before keeping your legs crouched on the floor. he notices how you begin to shake, not attempting to force you still in your act of horror. he wanted to be careful with you as you were too delicate to hurt. for now.

the blown pupils you have as your body trembles in full fear, eyeing the stranger in your vicinity, questioning whom he could be and how he was able to get into your secured home without you noticing. scattering around your bedside table, you quickly find a switchblade with tears in your eyes, stumbling backwards over a rocking chair before you’re hiding against the tall, sheer curtained windows, pointing your weapon in his oddly calm direction. 

“look at you,” he growls, and it’s nearly animalistic, like he’s been starved of speaking to you — needing you. footsteps slowly stalking closer as he wraps around the bed. “sweet little thing like you g’na hurt me with that, eh?” 

“no! s-stay away from me!” it’s loud the way you shout at him, tone shaky and body weakening to your dismay. 

the urgency to escape was fighting with you, but with the way this man was built, you’d have no chance to get far. he’s tall and brooding. a skull-patterned balaclava covered his face, eyes revealed to show dark brown irises, eyelids smeared with black eyeshadow to completely hide who he was. he wore a cotton obsidian hoodie with the hood thrown over his head, a camo harness adorned on his chest. thick padded cameo army pants and heavy black boots. fingers hidden by gloves. he looked terrifying, shoulders wide and muscles grown, practically busting out the seams of his attire. when he spoke to you, his voice carried a deep, chiseled british accent that urged goosebumps to spike up on your skin. 

the man watches you press back against the window, your breath coming in short, panicked gasps. the moonlight catches the tears on your cheeks, making them glisten as they fall. he tilts his head slightly, studying you—how delicate you look right now, how beautifully undone.

“your shaking,” he murmurs, voice lower now—softer. not kind, never kind—but measured. controlled. “i don’t want to frighten you . . but i needed to be closer.”

your mind races as you try to make sense of his words. “w-who are you?” you manage to stammer, trying to keep your voice steady. “why are you here?” 

“that’s not important right now.” 

you’re too stunned to speak, eyes blown and heart pounding. you’re acutely aware of his sudden touch on your chin, the rough texture of his gloved fingers against your skin. you try to pull away, but his grip is too strong, and he only allows you room to squirm slightly.

the man lets out a soft chuckle, his grip on your chin tightening just a fraction. “don’t even think about trying to crawl away from me, sweetheart. i've got you right where i want you.”

your eyes frantically dart around the room, searching for any possible escape route, but — he's holding you, and that combined with the fact that he's positioned himself squarely in front of you, leaves you feeling utterly trapped and powerless. the anxiety you feel is tangible, but there's something else stirring in your belly as well — a strange, unwelcoming heat that spreads from the sound of his hoarse, commanding voice. 

he leans in close enough for you to feel his breath on your face, gasping when he goes to grab your wrist to pry the switchblade from your shaky fingers, the metal clatters to the floor as he tosses it aside carelessly. “don’t try it, ꒰ ♥︎ ꒱.” 

a gloved thumb swipes roughly across your tear-stained cheek, the crude gesture sends a shudder through your entire body, equal parts revulsion and perverse excitement. you hate yourself for it, wanting to deny the heat pooling low in your belly. defenses begin to crumble. brain scattered with wants of protest while your body betrayed you. what the fuck was happening to you? none of this should be arousing. it’s like a dark novel come true. this man could harm you, and you were turned on. 

ghost leans in even closer, the heat of his body hard against you, struggling to breathe. eyes search yours, studying your reaction as he tightens his grip on your wrist ever so slightly. “i could hurt you," he murmurs. "but i won’t . . unless you make me."

the man's words send a shiver down your spine, both terrifying and thrilling. nipples harden beneath the thin shirt you wore as your core throbs with unwanted desire. you try to pry him away, but it's like trying to move a mountain — utterly futile.

"no . . ”  you whimper, even as your treacherous body arches slightly into his touch. "please, i have a boyfriend. he loves me. he’ll come for me."

“hm,” ghost snickers condescendingly. “doesn’t sound much like a threat to me. from what i saw, seems like he does a piss poor job of bein’ a man. can’t even fuck you good.” 

how would he know that? the question dissipates after his free hand moves up to your neck, circling the delicate column, a thumb pressing against the pulse point, the wild thrum of your heartbeat strong. "petal," he murmurs, tone low and rough. "you're terrified of me . . and yet, i can feel how much you want me."

something circuits in your brain that makes you moan the instant he pushes the outline of his dick on your stomach, cheeks flaring up with heat from the thickness of him. 

“feel that?” he grinds forward. “that’s what you fuckin’ do t’me. what you’ve done to me for years.” 

as if you weren’t scared before, nothing prepared you to hear that come from him. “y-years?” your mind reels trying to comprehend that. it’s haunting. 

“years,” he repeats to finalize. 

whimpers ensue as you writhe against him, overwhelmed by his jarring confession. tears continue to leak from the corners of your eyes as conflicting emotions war within you — fear, disgust, and shameful arousal. 

"please," you beg, voice breaking in a sob. "don’t do this. i don't want this." even as the words leave your mouth, you can feel your body responding differently to his touch, nipples pebbling and pussy clenching with need.

“liar," he hisses, grinding his hips harder against your midsection. "what’s this then, huh?” 

then, without even giving you a moment to think, he’s sliding his fingers into your panties to touch the stickiness of arousal brewing and seeping into cotton fabric. calloused fingers brushing over your puffy clit, hips jerking and almost collapsing into his touch. 

“listen to my girl,” he grits his teeth, swiping rough fingers delicately over your bud, gliding between fat lips to reach the heated opening he plunges into with gloved digits. “been a while since i heard her this wet.” 

a while? no, he couldn’t have. 

“it’s exactly what your thinkin’.” 

fuck, who knows what else he’s seen. given his knowledge, probably everything.

he groans deeply as his fingers slip through your slick folds, coating his glove in your essence. "mhm, good ‘nuf for me to slip right in,” he taunts, thrusting knuckle-deep inside tight walls. "tight ‘lil girl you got, yeah?” 

unable to stop the moan that spills from your lips, your hips buck greedily against his invading fingers. it feels wrong, so wrong, but you find yourself craving more of his touch.

"that’s it, petal," he croons, pumping his fingers faster, curling them to hit that sweet spot inside you. "take what i give you. learn how to behave.” 

ghost withdraws his soaked fingers abruptly, bringing them to your lips. "open up," he commands, smearing your juices across your bottom lip. when you hesitate, he pinches your nose shut, forcing you to part your lips on a gasp. he maneuvers his coated fingers past your teeth, deep into your mouth. "clean ‘em off. get a good taste f’me.” 

shuddering at the command, a mix of revulsion and desire warring in your mind. there's something in the way he's looking at you, something in his voice that makes you obey. opening up your mouth, your tongue darts out to taste your own cum off his glove. the taste is heady, a mixture of sweetness from you and leather from the material. that makes your head spin. you want him tasting it too. 

he lets out a deep, guttural groan. "you’ve got a greedy little mouth, don't you doll?" he mutters. "just can't get enough of me, can you?"

with the fog in your head, you don’t even fight it when he’s lifting you off the ground and bringing you back to your mattress, tossing you like you weigh nothing at all. it all happens so quick yet he’s moving like he knows you’re not going anywhere. you wouldn’t fight it, in fact, you couldn’t. big man like him won’t allow you to. he’d have his full weight pinned on you in milliseconds. a trained soldier. there’s no fucking way he’d allow you, not when he’s waited so long for this. 

before you can react, he’s on top of you—knees bracketing your hips, his stern gaze locking onto yours.

"stay still," he murmurs, voice dark with intent. his hands grab your wrists and pull them behind your back. 

the rope he obtains appears from nowhere—thick, soft cord that bites just enough to remind you who’s in control. loop after loop, he ties off a shibari pattern across your chest, and arms, intricate and beautiful . . and inescapable. every tug only tightens the embrace. he’s removed your clothing so you’re nothing but bare. tying intricate knots around your backside and ankles, binding you spread-eagle on the mattress, on your knees and ass up.

a whimper sounds as the tan ropes pull taut, your body stretched apart and helpless. the position leaves you exposed—completely at his mercy. every breath makes your bound chest rise and fall, the restraints only tightening with each small movement.

ghost steps back just enough to admire his work, his dark eyes raking over every inch of you. "perfect," he grunts, voice thick with hunger. "like a fucking offering."

chin resting into the bubblegum pink duvet, you steady your breathing through your nose, fingers stretching out for a sense of control even if you knew you had none. the cold air of your apartment hits your pussy, goosebumps all over your skin from the realization that you’re fully exposed to this man. being bound by tough rope on soft skin made you feel taken. like you no longer owned yourself. you laid here, completely for his sin. there’s no point arguing, you’d given that up moments ago when your body decided to fully submit and be okay with what’s going to happen. what you wanted to happen. 

the stocky man runs his now bare hands down your spine, slow and deliberate, stopping to grip one ass cheek hard before sliding lower—fingers teasing through your slick folds again. “arch deeper, move back like you want it.” 

when you remain stubbornly still, he delivers a sharp smack to your still-reddened asscheek. "now, sweetheart. or i walk away and leave your pussy achy and empty."

a choked sob escapes you as the sting blooms across your skin—sharp and hot. arching instinctively, you push your hips higher into the air, presenting yourself exactly how he wants to lessen punishment, your pussy opening up like the prettiest flower. 

ghost lets out a low, approving growl. "there we gooo," he purrs. “like it when they listen.”

you’re moaning helplessly as you lay spread open for the brooding man behind you in full gear. his eyes are dark, hands are huge and fingers thick as they sprawl over your backside. smoothing the round globes of your ass cheeks before he’s giving your achy pussy one good, full-palmed pat. it’s sluice and ready to be fucked open real good, dick just aching thinking about it. shifting in your spot, you wish you could ease the ache between your legs by squeezing your thighs together, but you can’t. therefore you whine and pout about it, cheek laying flat on the bed, limbs struggling. 

his voice cuts through like a blade. “keep that ass up.” 

ghost crawls onto the bed behind you, muscled stature pushing you firmly into the mattress. you whine and squirm, but his hand comes down hard on the back of your neck, glueing you still. he’s inherently strong — you couldn't break his grip even if you tried to. he’s been watching you for months, and knows exactly what he wants and how he needs you. the games were done. 

he grinds his dick against your sore, exposed ass—fully clothed in those weighted camo pants, the rough fabric scraping over sensitive skin with every roll of his hips. the pressure is intense, maddening even. feeling every ridge of him through the layers between you, and a traitorous moan claws its way out of your throat. heaving with despair, the periwinkle of your toes curl, shoulder blades shifting as you cry out. 

"shhh," he hushes near your ear, voice dark and amused. "i just w’na feel you."

you gasp as he shifts you, his hands firm and unyielding as they reposition your hips back against him. the thick ridge of his cock presses right against your aching, dripping core—still separated by layers of fabric, but so heavy. 

a soft, broken moan escapes you as he grinds slowly—deliberate, torturous—with just enough aggression to make your toes wiggle and your thighs tremble. arching into the contact, you’d die to chase that forbidden friction.

"greedy lil’ thing," he murmurs into your ear, voice rough with need. "feel how hard i am for you? how bad i want to rip these clothes off ‘n bury myself deep?"

he’s molding the flesh of your ass like it’d run away. soft and bouncy, seeping through the gaps of his fingers. your wrists tug on the restraints, mouth agape as you mewl, now urging yourself to move back on it, tired of being teased. while arching your spine lower, you steadily rock the plump of your ass back onto his crotch, twiddling your acrylic nails and puffing out air from how good it felt to have your clit brush on the outline of his fat dick. 

ghost makes a noise of amusement, staying still to watch you use him how you’d like. "that's it, work those hips. get yourself nice and ready for me."

a free hand goes around to rub tight circles over your throbbing bud, mesmerized by how sticky you’re getting. the sound of it audible after each clap back, ghost licking his lips at the moist spot you leave on him, string of cum connecting. “fuck, g’na fill this greedy lil’ hole up real soon, petal.”

keening high in your throat, the dual stimulation pushes you closer to the edge, gently shaking your head as you continue to whine and hit your clit right on the fattest part of him. “o—ooh, my god.” 

the thick seam of his pants drags over your swollen clit in a way that’s maddening—too much and not enough all at once. your hips jerk, chasing friction, but he holds you firm. he continues to ground his hips deeper into you, his thumb coming to trace over your swollen lips you’d bitten red before sinking it into your mouth, letting you suck and drool all over it. 

“good girl,” he growls, rolling his hips harder. “suck it like you want my cock instead.” 

his voice is a low rumble, and he sounds so hungry. like he'd never be able to get enough of you. and you like it—being needed, being wanted. you can't deny the way he makes you feel, all weak and needy. you should be scared. he is dangerous, he's big and gruff, but when he looks at you like that, you just feel safe.

he thrusts harder now, gripping your ass and thwacking it roughly, pretty brown skin hot from his palms that are covered in veins, tattoos, and scars. accent so heavy it makes you wetter with each word he speaks. “just focus on my voice, let me see tha’ pretty face.”

his hand tightens on your hip, fingers digging deep as he watches your face—every flutter of your lashes, every desperate breath. he’s savoring this. savoring you.

“stay right there,” ghost grits, grounding the imprint of his dick onto your sluice clit at just the perfect angle.

"don’t move," he growls, voice strained. "not unless i say."

“i w’na cum so bad,” you whine with tear stained cheeks and nearly a snotty nose, feet kicking and body aching from the angle you’re positioned in. 

"you want to what, doll?" he asks, almost mocking. his thumb hooks further into your mouth, the imprint of it showing in your cheek. you’re slobbering over it, sucking up your saliva and moaning loud. he wants you to say it. “use your words. say that name.” 

“i w’na cum so bad, sir!”

a satisfied hum rumbles from his chest at the word. the submission, the desperation in your voice. he could lose it, hands digging harder into soft flesh. 

"yeah," he breathes, lips curling into a dark smile. "cum all over m’fuckin’ clothes f’me.” 

he’s rough and demanding, but you love it. he’s everything you should be terrified of—but it just makes you want him more. you need it. you crave it. you’re desperate to please him now, to be good in his eyes. you want to show him you’re worthy of being fucked by him. shivering as he whispers the words, a sudden pang of heat shoots through you from the depravity of his request. he's so obviously in charge right now, and you'd do anything to be worthy of praise.

"please," you whisper, voice pleading. "please, sir. i—i want you. i need you. i’m good. i’m . .  i’m —"

"you’re what, sweetheart?" he asks, voice low. he’s still got you pinned, but his touch is soft as he reaches up to brush back a plethora of hair covering your dolled features. his expression looks almost tender. "talk to me. you got it.” 

"i’m your good girl," you breathe, the words rushing out of you. "yours to use."

your cheeks flush with heat as he studies you, head cocked to the side in awe. and it’s as if your own words make you cum, stomach coiling as you breathlessly moan and rock back on him — so silent but visibly loud. ghost takes your waist and helps you keep your pace up. “nngh, baby. right. there.”

ghost hums, low and satisfied as he runs a hand up your spine after removing his thumb from your mouth. he begins to unzip his pants, unlatching his palm from the back of your neck and relieving his hefty dick out to rest on your pussy, precum just oozing out of the burly head. he takes the base — stout with a thick vein leading up to coarse hairs matted on his groin — to push out some precum leaking at the tip.

he’s got hair on his husky stomach, mostly on the middle area leading up to his chest. he’s heavily built, it was clear with clothing on. now that he’s pulled off the hood on his head, stepped out of his cargo’s — he’s got the hoodie hiked up to his midsection, smelling like bourbon and cigars on a saturday night mixed with cedar. all of him is shown in the mirror directly facing your bed, pussy clenching from the view you’d gotten. he looked rugged, completely out-sizing you by a ton. a dirty, older man aching to be inside you. you wished you could see his face. get the whole experience. 

“you want it, doll? want me to take what's mine?"

scalding, beefy hands find their way back to your ass, slamming down both palms repeatedly and pushing only the tip inside you to hear you gasp. every smack leaves you creamy, sobbing and grinding back as much as you could. gripping and yanking at your skin, swatting and repeating — he’s enthralled . “fuckin’ sweet ass you got, yeah?” 

he could’ve sworn he saw you smirk amidst the brutality of his strikes. pussy full on soppy and dripping between plush thighs. it deserved a good taste, thinking about it for a while now. you clench from the sudden emptiness you feel when he leaves you, ghost standing up by the side of the bed to unravel the ropes from your ankles, deciding to pull your arms below the backs of your thighs and wrapping them together with your feet. he always takes his time with it, being delicate as you breathe in the silence, keening from a few touches he’d leave close to your pussy. 

now your knees are to your chest, arms bound tightly behind yourself with rope harsh on your skin. thighs pressed together now easing the pressure on your clit. you plant your palms flat on the backs of your thighs, nails scraping your own skin out of sudden shock when you feel his hot mouth swallowing your pussy wetly. lifted up his mask to get his face buried in it, arched over you with a fat tongue thrumming on your achy nub while his lips sloppily encase you. saliva drips from his mouth down to your arms, stuttering out a mewl mixed with heady gasps, eyes slicking white. 

“g-god, daddy — fuck!” crying out, you unintentionally move your hips which has you nearly rolling off the side of the bed, ghost catching you with a grunt before he’s repositioning you aggressively, his head spinning off the tart taste of you on his palate. you try to move away, the pleasure too intense.

“unh uh, don’t you fuckin’ run now. gimme those hips,” he grumbled, starved as he spanks you hard and yanks your hips back, holding them tight on either side with his dick jumping against your stomach as he sucks you up and all your giving him. 

at this point you’re drooling, eyes descending to the back of your skull as you take every full-tongued lick, stomach twisting as you listen to how greedy he eats it, slurps it, beats it with fingers now to keep you open enough to take him — deep, ragged growls and hot swats on your ass. you cum, right then and there, and it knocks the air from your throat. 

“c'mon doll, cum for me. let go."

“unngh, m’god — mmmnh!.” 

you’re groaning out your noises, the intensity of it making your entire body tremble, humming and gyrating your hips out of frenzy. it’s too much, but it feels so good. 

“yess, fuckin’ good girl. cum harder lil’ girl. want you full on creamy.” 

fingers continue to shake and plunge inside you, your stomach folding inwards from his relentless hunger, eyes still turned out and mouth faltered with drool dribbling. “s-simonnn!” the wall of fantasy breaks and you can’t fucking think anymore, going into subspace and full on sobbing now, endorphins high and brain mushy. hiccuped screams bellowing out the quicker he finger fucks you. cum coating up to his knuckles before pulling them out and rubbing at your bud with all four fingers. 

“i know pretty girl, i know, i know. doin’ so good.”

the sudden emptiness makes you clench for him to come back, the stimulation on your juicy clit causes you to sputter out little drops of liquid. it’s so pretty as he stares, watching in awe while you struggle to move, dampening the sheets. 

then, his voice cuts through the haze, low and sharp. “look at me, ꒰ ♥︎ ꒱.”

doe eyes flutter open, glassy and unfocused. his face is hard in the dim light—jaw tight, pupils blown wide with lust. "did you cum too hard?" he checks in, your eyes drooped and face pouty like there’s nothing in your head. "hm, baby? answer. what’s your name?"

“꒰ ♥︎ ꒱,” you smile weakly. “and you’re simon.” 

“yeah, i am,” he chuckles, caressing your cheek with a curled finger. “pretty thing, petal. pussy jus’ as sweet as you.” 

“can you fuck my pussy, daddy?” you moan, batting lashes and biting swollen lips, still needing him. what he does to you can never be explained. “wan’ it.”

simon’s eyes say it all even if you couldn’t see his face. eyes darkening and remaining silent as he moves you around the bed, dick still standing hard. 

he’d gotten a bit nicer to you by untying the ropes from your ankles so you’d have the ability to fully stretch and move your lower body. you sigh thankfully, doing side by side twists to crack your achy parts. simon holds on to you with fondness, this moment feeling intimate as he massages your waist and back. 

“if you can’t take it anymore, you tell me, okay?”  simon makes sure he’s stern on that as he aligns his dick with your opening, grabbing your ass and bringing you down on his dick from where he now lays underneath you. 

“mhm,” nodding drunkenly, you melt into his touch as he holds you up by your shoulders, gasping as you split yourself open down on his dick ever so slowly, taking your time. it’s immediate when you moan together, simon’s eyes daunting under dark makeup, bushy brows furrowed and sharp hips rising up to meet you halfway with a weighty dick kissing you open. 

“fuckin’ hell — yeah,” simon hisses, seeing the outline of his mouth fall open beneath his mask. you go to reach for it, pulling it up just enough to attach your lips for a kiss, missing it.  

he chose to stay in character for you, even if you were the one to break first. darting out your tongue, you glide yours along his passionately slow, simon swatting your ass with a quick hand release before raising his hips to fuck up into you. your nails dig into your palms, arms still bound as you hold your mouth open on his to breathe and focus on how good he felt stretching you and fucking all the neediness away. you try your best to fuck him, too. wanting to give back to him as much as he’s given you. 

“uh-huh, take it all in, swallow it up with your cunt,” simon exhales raggedly, your ass clapping down on his thighs faintly, though it’s not enough. 

blurry eyes and shaky thighs not an excuse to him. giving him small rise and falls didn’t cut it. 

“c’mon, c’mon. i don’t give a fuck,” simon grunts when you halt your bouncing, cracking a hand on your ass again. you’d surely have a welt tomorrow morning. 

“ooo, baby, i’m g’na cum again!” you weep, tits bouncing in his face he goes to latch his mouth on to, sucking and pulling with hunger. you take every greedy, rough pound he gives to coax you into a proper fuck. 

“not yet, you hold it till i get there. cummin’ all night, petal. gotta give some pussy to me, yeah? got s’much nut to give you.” 

“i want your nut,” the sentence is slurred, simon holding your upper halve still so you wouldn’t fall while he applies a bit of force to drop you harder on his dick. “i want it, daddy.” 

“want it where?” he grits, your ass now slamming down on his muscular thighs, wetness coating his groin, scooting your pussy on him to feel it hit that spot in you mixed with his pubic hairs brushing along your clit. “oh, fuck baby.” 

“i w’na taste it,” whining, you lose yourself in grinding as you slouch lower, getting his dick in just the right angle to make you both feel good. simon chokes, holding his breath with a grunt, scooting your hips faster back and forth, back and forth. 

“get it to the back of that needy throat?” 

“yess, want it so bad, pleasepleaseplease.” 

neither of you could control it. he’s growling like a feral animal while you whine and whimper like a broken toy. every push and pull drags you both out of mind. 

“cum on it,” the baritone of his voice gets louder, wrapping a large forearm over your waist before slightly sitting up, spanking you and gripping your ass to lift up so he’s got enough room to sink deeper. his chest rises and falls, hitting his dick up to catch your rhythm. “ugh, fuck, fuck. cum onnit. fuckin’ cum on this big dick, baby.” 

simon’s wheezing, the snag of your pussy knocking the fucking wind out of him, finding it difficult to catch a breath in this mask. he holds it just for you, so he can cum down your throat just like you want. he’s always g’na give you what you want. simon’s body is stiff as he keeps his composure, kissing you sloppy as you gush on his dick and fall weak, screaming into his neck where your face falls and you can’t stop from crying and swiveling your waist. 

he doesn’t even bother telling you, lifting you up and laying you on the bed where your head hangs off the edge, simon’s bulky thighs on either side of your dizzy head as he fists his dick to shove it down your throat, bursting in a load of cum with the loudest, filthiest growl you’d ever heard. like a goddamn animal. his palm clutches your throat, thrusting deliberately slow to feel himself inside it. 

“drink it, baby,” he hums, eyes rolled back and hips unable to stop moving. “fuck yes, all of it.” 

and you do, every last drop. lips tight and cheeks sucked in as you clean him up well, simon patting your cheek as a reminder that you did a good job after he shifts back, dick taking it’s time going limp over your face as he calms himself.

“c’mere, doll.” 

simon lifts you up in strong arms, yanking the balaclava off of his face showing disheveled brunette strands stuck to his forehead, kissing yours and taking you to the bathroom. he runs a nice, hot bath for you with bubbles and candles. makes sure he rubs you down good with shea butter so you wouldn’t scar anywhere, especially in areas where he found the rope to be too tight on your flesh. apologizing for it.

putting on sweats and a regular black tee, he’s grabbing his keys after you got comfy in bed, running out to get breakfast for you both while you rested off what you endured, dawn peaking through the curtains without both of your realization. he’d rest with you when he got back. 

you had felt it throughout the night before while your body relaxed and renewed — the sickness, the pain, the irritation. you’re climbing out of bed with a scowl painted on the petals of your lips, palming your head and squinting while walking slowly towards the bathroom. the cotton of the oversized tee you wear is airy and thin. it belongs to one of your boyfriends you’re sure and usually you’re ecstatic to don something so loose and comfy to bed, especially a piece of clothing belonging to one of them, however . . it feels uncommonly itchy today.

makes you whine and hurry to snatch it off over your head and toss to the floor as you sit on the toilet, emptying your full bladder.

you’re left in nothing but your skimpy, little panties as you brush your teeth — movements sluggish and slow as the pounding in your head only seems to get worse upon the illumination of the warm, bathroom lighting shining down onto you.

your fist smashes against the light switch with more force than necessary to shut it off as you spit out a mouthful of teal, minty flavored foam into the sink, hazily watching frothy bubbles swirl into a curlicue across shining, white porcelain and down the drain. distantly, you wish it could’ve been you — whirling away, into inevitable darkness and quiet, if even for a day.

your electric, pink toothbrush is plopped back into the holder, right between a black and blue one.

you don’t need to look as you snatch your satin, fur trimmed, rosy colored robe from off of the bathroom door’s hook. your footsteps drag against cool, dark mahogany as you lug your tired body downstairs and while you’re holding onto the rail of the wide spiral staircase that opens up into the large opened area of the living space and kitchen, you’re suddenly aware that you had left your plush, teddy bear, house slippers up within the bedroom.

your toe is touching the landing upon the realization . . .

within the open designed kitchen, standing in front of the electric stove while flipping a thick piece of french toast in a skillet is eren.

you catch his eye first and you notice how a large smile instantly spreads itself across his soft lips at the sight of you. “and the princess arrives,” he richly sings.

at the sound of dragging feet, ony turns around from where he rummages within the fridge. it only takes them both a second to notice your current state. “awe, baby girl.” ony’s rounding the island where you take a seat at to gather your face within his hands. one holds you by the bottom of your jaw, your face planted within that area between his thumb and index while the other touches your forehead.

you’re frowning, physical contact usually your favorite way to be shown adoration and love, not appreciated today. you pull your face away from his touch, mewling.

ony doesn’t take too much offense to it, “you’re sick, ma’.”

“yeah, no shit.”

while you sniffle and snatch a paper towel from the roll to dab your dripping nose dry, a swift look is shared between eren and ony. to a stranger, it would’ve been seen as just a glance, however, you’ve known both men for too long. you take heed of eren’s obscure eyebrow twitch and ony’s responding furrowed ones.

they don’t like you cursing, you know this, howbeit, ony decides to give you a pass. the golden glow that seems to habitually reside within your skin has been paled, your eyes are heavy and sunken in, and your body shivers even while the heater within the highrise loft you all share sits at seventy six. you look like you hadn’t got a lick of sleep, although both eren and ony had been on either side of you the entire night.

“fuck, lemme go check if we have some tylenol or something.”

before eren can move, you’re shaking your head, “i checked already,” you huff. “there’s none or dayquil or robitussin. we don’t even have fucking vicks.”

ony folds his arms, “language,” his voice, deep and quiet, utters out. “this is your third time getting sick within ten weeks. ‘m sure you used it all up two weeks ago when you caught a fever.”

he’s right. he’s always right and while on better days, you appreciate that — his wisdom and intelligence — today, you just want to shove him away and bury yourself in a hole to keep from hearing that familiar lilt in his voice as he proves you wrong once more.

you heavily sigh, leaning your temple on your palm and that elbow on the cool island counter, turning away from him.

ony pushes himself back upright, leaning in to kiss your head while rounding the counter once more, “we’ll pick up some medicine today while we’re all out.”

“we’re all?”

you’re tired. your body aches, your head pounds, and you can’t breathe without sounding as though you’ve ran ten miles. you don’t want to even step a foot outside of your front door.

eren’s dusting powdered sugar across two pieces of french toast, cookie cut into hearts, that lay beside two patties of chicken sausage and scrambled eggs sprinkled with warm cheese and green onions. “yeah, mama,” he retorts softly, aware of your headache. “we both gotta go check on our shops and you have that meeting with your dean, hm. plus, you mentioned something about, uh—“

ony fills in when eren can’t exactly remember, “—you needing to go to that bookstore across town.”

goodness.

they’re right. you’ve been searching all throughout the web for a textbook needed for an important class this semester and while it’d been seemingly wiped from the internet or being sold by scalpers looking to make a profit of five times the amount of which they bought it for, you managed to finally find the book in stock at a quaint, little bookstore about forty minutes out from where you all lived.

you plop your head into your arms, feeling the common sensation of warm tears burning as they rise to the surface of your eyes. “hey, none of that,” eren makes you lift your head so that he can peck your lips. you grumble, swiftly turning your head when he pushes in for another one so that it lands upon the chub of your cheek.

“ ‘m gonna go eat in the living room.”

while usually you chirp a sweet ‘ thank you, papa ‘ and sit between the two men during breakfast, today, you grab your plate and slide out from your stool until your feet meet the floor. it’s as though you purposely drag the soles of them all the way to the family room area, knowing just how ony felt about that particular sound, until you make it towards the settee.

onyankopon thinks he feels his eye twitch.

he doesn’t say anything until the sound of bubbles, blossom, and buttercup’s voices playing from the heavy bass sound bar of the television is able to drown out the volume of his. “i know i’m not fuckin’ trippin’.”

“chill,” eren chuckles. he replaces your seat at the island, slowly chewing on a piece of sweet strawberry.

“nah, pa’, fuck that—“

“—you already know how she is when she’s sick,” while raking a hand through the waved, shoulder length tresses of his hair, eren pauses midway to scratch his scalp. even he doesn’t seem to confident in his words. “plus it’s still morning. let her shake it off.”

ony doesn’t do well with attitudes. not from you, not from eren, he doesn’t even tolerate them from himself. he gives a swift suck of his canine, side eyeing you before taking a generous bite of his toast. “she’s on strike one—“

“—already?” eren smacks his lips. “c’mon, man—“

“—i’m telling you right now, her lil ass is on strike one, eren.”

not always, however often the mediator between you both, eren takes a look at you over his shoulder. you sit upon the middle cushion of the u - shaped bellini sofa. you look so small from where him and ony stand — sweet and cute. “she’ll get it together,” he mumbles. “just be patient.”

when breakfast is done and the dishwasher is loaded, the three of you begin your own routines of getting ready. being that ony had already showered hours ago after his six am run, he only needed to slip into his fit which’d been a pair of thick, black sweats, a plain tee, black puffer coat, and his ‘ black cat ‘ fours, while you and eren washed up together. he also took it upon himself to put together the both of your ensembles, as well.

eren in a grey hoodie, black northface coat over it, and black cargos with a carhartt beanie and you, not owning a single pair of pants, in a pair of thick leggings whose shade matched beautifully with your skin tone, knitted pink skirt, and matching, heavy coat whose hood had been rimmed with fur.

that nasty scowl still rests upon your pretty face come you exiting the steamed bathroom with eren in tow. onyankopon can’t help but notice the defeat that shines clear across his boy’s face, albeit, still and all, he lets his words echo between his ears. ‘ just be patient. ‘

“c’mere,” he orders you softly. this is an everyday routine, him or eren lathering cream upon your body then dressing you up.

you pause midstep within the middle of the room, “. . i can do it—“

“—i didn’t ask you, ma’. i said, come here.”

you puff out your cheeks, frowning, allowing your feet to carry you to where ony sits upon the edge bed. he widens his legs to pull you in closer and you watch him drizzle your favorite birthday cake scented lotion within the cup of his heavy hand.

he begins the process at your leg, easy and slow, making you lift your little foot to rest upon his knee so that he can massage the moisturizer within the sole of it, up your calf, then thigh. quietly, he repeats the same to your other leg, then atop of your butt, your hips, tummy, arms — he doesn’t leave an inch of you untouched.

ony regards how you fight the urge to relax. your muscles would ease before you were tensing up again. and his eyes continuously look up into yours, gauging it all, trying to figure you out. what’s got his baby so upset? aside from you being sick was it another physical pain? mental? emotional? he watches you merely stare back down at him, all mean and viscous — you’re about as intimidating as a baby bun.

he doesn’t want to pressure you into telling him what was wrong. you don’t feel good, he’s aware, but he knows something deeper lies within that excuse. it shines bright within the deep brown of your eyes, clawing to reveal itself. “leg,” he mumbles, opening up your underwear. it’s white and cotton, little pink bow snug upon the trim of it in front. you stick one foot through the hole then the other, feeling him pull it up until it fits upon your hips. “good girl.”

a chill runs up your spine — warm and thick. you sniff, swiping your finger underneath your nose. eren notices from where he stands a few feet away while layering his jewelry.

he adjusts his watch upon his wrist as he walks over to the nightstand, sliding open the drawer to pluck a few kleenexes out from the box inside. “hm.” you hear his voice, you feel his body behind yours and watch his arm stretch out into your vision. “blow.”

you’re grumbling underneath your breath while leaning your face toward his hand that holds the napkins, inhaling a breath before huffing out some air through your nose. mucus shoots out, thick and viscid, consistency similar to honey. you grimace in disgust, turning your face away after two more.

“good job, baby,” eren sighs, sparing a quick glance at the mess.

yeah, you’re sick alright.

he tosses the dirtied napkins away, padding to the bathroom to wash his hands while ony zips up your coat. “you doin’ your make up today or no?”

you don’t answer his question, only push him away to go to the corner of the room where your vanity resides and take a seat.

not talking. he wants that to be strike two, he desperately does, nonetheless, he knows he’s getting a little bit ‘ palm ‘ happy and being unfair. he’ll consider it strike one and a quarter.

voice quiet, eren asks, “which car are we taking?” while adjusting a few silver rings on his tatted fingers.

ony takes a look at him — from the low bun that sat at the nape of his neck under his beanie, tatted neck, to the blinding white forces on his feet. he doesn’t have to say anything, he simply stands to walk over, not caring much about catching him off guard when grabbing him by his neck to pull him in for three soft pecks. “y’look good,” he mumbles onto the sweet skin of his lips. he tastes the vanilla of his chapstick — sugary and cloying. “we takin’ my car.”

he hears eren groan, quiet and soft, “keys,” he mutters against ony’s own.

“pocket . . get ‘em out.”

eren sucks his teeth, slipping his hand down the pocket of ony’s sweats, watching his boy slowly begin to smile over his bottom lip. “y’feel ‘em?”

he doesn’t answer his question, merely slips the ring of the keys onto his index finger, not missing the hardening rod of his cock, jumping against his palm. “you a fuckin’ menace, man.”

you take your sweet time completing your make up routine, switching out your purses, putting on your leg warmers and boots — nevertheless, both men remain considerate and forbearing. eren gathers you into his side, throwing his arm over your shoulder to pull you in for a forehead kiss while you all walk down the quiet hall towards the elevator and yet, you remain stoic, arms folded and face even. “you look pretty, baby.”

“mm.”

eren rolls a piece of the inside of his jaw between his molars, “. . wanna sit in front—“

“—back.”

you slink yourself away from his side, quickening your steps to brush past them both. given all of your quips and smart comments, a seed of dread plants itself right within the base of your stomach at the scan of eren’s working jaw and heavy lidded gaze. you’re aware that it takes a bit more to drive the brunet up a wall. while ony’s a ticking time bomb, always three seconds from exploding, eren’s temper is more of the beginnings of a trickling stream of water before a tidal wave.

both frightening, both gut wrenching — one more monstrous and rare.

still, you shake off that fear when you’re seated in the set behind the passenger, head leaned upon the cool glass of the window.

eren’s tattoo shop is only a twenty minute drive from the condo. you’re a hair away from drifting off into that placid swithered state of consciousness and not when you hear the unbuckle of seatbelts.

“c’mon, baby.”

you whine. ony’s blacked out range rover has seat warmers and a reclining option — you’re comfortable. “no, i wanna stay here.”

eren’s pulling open your door not more than a second later. a sharp, bone chilling wind flies over your body, sending your teeth chattering and aching legs curling. he’s leaning over inside of the truck to unbuckle your seatbelt for you, dodging your squirms and shoves all the while, “i don’t know how long i’m goin’ to take in here. you gotta come.”

you’re snatching away from him come his hand taking yours. you all but slam the car door when you’re out, not missing the chance to glare directly into onyankopon’s dark eyes as you do so, then you’re stomping your little feet up the cemented ramp that leads to the door of eren’s shop.

“that’s her second strike.”

a low chime signals your entry. you utter soft hi’s toward mikasa, sasha, and armin on your way towards the back where you know eren’s office is.

nobody misses the extra weight in your steps and how quick you do so. looks are passed between the employees and all is silent, aside from the dull buzz of machines whirring, until ony and eren are stepping inside, dusting snow off of their coats.

“what did the two of you do to her?”

mikasa’s eyes are slitted with her rising suspicion. never has she seen you so irked. you’re normally a sweet, little thing — offering them homemade pastries and pretty charm bracelets beaded with their nicknames. you don’t normally brush past them so quickly.

“not a damn thing,” eren releases a heavy breath.

ony chimes in a quiet, “yet,” while plopping down within the leather seat near beside the door.

sasha hums from her stall near back, eyes focused on the piece she works on in efforts to get her shading precise, “baby girl looks about ready to kill someone.”

ony scoffs, adjusting his sox cap atop his head, “lil ass can’t even swat at a fly let alone kill somebody.”

chuckles fill the room.

“no, no, wait. she’s so little.”

“fuckin’ tiny thing.”

“and she’s walkin’ around huffin’ and puffin’ like she ‘bout some’n.”

you hear them all. your nails impale into the fleshy meat of your palms as you sit at eren’s desk, jaw clenched. the utter disregard of your feelings not only makes tears fizz up the rim of your eyes, however, goes straight to your heart which pangs a sharp zing and shoots up more rushing blood to agitate your migraine further. you just want your bed.

sniffling, you lay your head down upon the desk, closing your eyes to block out the built in ceiling lighting. you can hear a set of footsteps padding towards the room. you keep your eyes shut.

it’s the both of them.

you can smell eren’s cologne — rich and woodsy — and hear the material of onyankopon’s coat rubbing as he moved his arm.

“jus’ leave her,” eren mumbles. you hear him powering up the apple computer in front of you then the mouse rolling. “i gotta check these invoices.”

you move your head, creaking your eyes open. he leans over you, one hand on the back of the large chair you sit in and the other directing the mouse here then there across the desk. the blue light of the computer illuminates the handsome features of his face and you take heed of his eyes, a gorgeous teal, leaning towards a more mossy green, darting across the screen. his face is focused and you notice how he nibbles along the inside of his bottom lip which makes his dimples play peek a boo within his cheeks.

when your congested sniffle rings through the quiet room, you quickly shut your eyes again before eren can catch you staring.

ony’s voice is quiet when he says, “we gotta pick her up some soup. i know her fuckin’ throat is killing her.”

“yeah, duke’s? — on the corner of rose and lakewood — shit has the best wild rice and mushroom soup. think it also helps detox.”

“mm, for real? we’ll get her that then.”

it doesn’t take eren long to answer a few emails, send in invoices, take a call, then lock his computer. you’re back nuzzled within your seat in the car by the time the clock strikes eleven forty five.

periodically, ony glances at you through the rear view mirror while he drives, noting how you had your body turned towards the door and hood pulled up over your head. he can’t see your face . . and that irks him. he’s sure this will sound selfish of him, but for so many suns, the only things able to soothe him, motivate him, keep him going has been both yours and eren’s faces — your features pretty and delicate in your own respected ways. in ways he can’t describe, when he gazes at you both, ony all but wants to give you the entire world.

you know when you arrive at his auto and detailing shop when you hear connie’s voice at the window.

“fuck you doin’ here, bossman?”

the car settles in park as ony frees himself from the seatbelt, “gotta check on y’all niggas and pick up some shit. aye, where’s braun?”

his voice fades away once he gets out of the car and heads toward the interior of a garage. you curl in closer within your seat, letting out a sweet mewl when that ache settled within the tissue of your muscles makes itself known once more. “we’re almost done, mama,” eren sighs. he loathes seeing you like this. “your campus, bookstore, then the pharmacy. couple more stops.”

you groan, “i know, eren.” you don’t need him to remind you that it’s going to be at least two more hours until you’re back home nuzzled within your warm bed.

the brunet rolls his lips within his mouth, contemplating his next choice of words. it’s an inquisitive globe rolling from left to right within his head — left being his more empathetic half come knowing the reaction that’ll sleeve over your attitude if he were to say it, however, the right not caring and wanting to see you choke up. “. . . ‘yan has you on strike two.”

“what?”

you’re lifting your head come the statement pushing past eren’s lips and into the interior of the quiet car, eyes round with shock as your heart staggers on its next beat. eren doesn’t even turn his head over his shoulder to look at you, only unwraps a caramel apple flavored sucker he’d slipped out of his pocket, prior to sticking it within his mouth, “mhm,” he slyly murmurs. “one more and you know what that means . .” and it isn’t always solely ony that calls the strikes, although more aberrant, eren can too.

“. . b-but ‘m sick—“

he shifts his head from left to right. eren had known you’d pull the excuse. the hard candy clicks against his teeth as his tongue moves it about within his mouth, “— don’t matter. i know you’re feeling tired today, pretty girl, but you gotta fix that attitude.”

you want to.

you want to scream and huff and kick and throw a good, old fashioned tantrum because, ironically, you do want to be good. you want that aerial, golden halo above your head each time your boyfriends take a glance of you to remain, however, it’s as though that part of you has taken a leave for the day — you couldn’t find her even if you tried. that golden ring has been reformed into tiny, red pointed horns taken home within the bubblegum pink and black beach waves of your sew in and a thin, forked tail at the base of your back. you huff and fold your arms, returning back to your previous position. “ ‘s not fair.”

it’s not fair.

you want to blame your crankiness on your cold, even so, you know that wouldn’t be true. and at the view of eren pulling out his phone, reclining his seat back, and widening his legs — a lounging position to showcase his content within the situation, that little spark that’s been lit inside of your tummy only flares brighter. your tone is a snap as you hiss, “that’s not fair, eren.”

“mhm.” he ignores your tell tale, beginning signs of a fit to reach inside the middle console where he knows ony keeps a packet of cough drops. the packet crinkles as he slips his hand in, grabs a few, then outstretches his arm behind himself, “here, baby.”

you sneer at his hand, making an entire show of grumbling and droning until you’re opening your own, allowing him to drop them within it.

you don’t know how long ony has you both waiting — you’re only to quietly watch through the window as he moves throughout the lot, admiring the work of an iridescent, pearl wrapped lamborghini, directing an employee there then here, holding a clipboard which he flipped through quickly prior to handing it back into the hands of reiner.

cool melon, eucalyptus, and peppermint oils soothe the channel of your throat as you suckle on a cough drop, watching him stand with his arms folded a few minutes later. his eyes are locked onto the light blond spheres of jean’s own who had been seemingly explaining something while gesturing to a bentley a few garages away.

you notice that the inside of the car is completely barren — the seats have been taken out.

ony’s face is morphing. eyebrows dropping, corners of his lips pulling low, and his chin is tilting the slightest bit higher. tiny pimples rise along the surface of your skin as you regard his demeanor. it’s familiar.

upon eren taking a rendezvous trip with his friends to vegas for two nights without letting either of you know, as soon as he had came home and stepped foot across the threshold, ony had been there — same stature, same facial expression, same guise. and when he begins to speak, jaw grinding and his tone more clear while pointing between the car, jean, and himself, you don’t have to say it because eren already notices, “shit,” he mumbles, looking out towards the scene. “pa’s pissed.”

the conversation ends with jean giving a firm nod, eyes casted not downwards but close enough. you read his lips before he walks off, ‘ i gotchu, boss. ‘

ony rubs a hand down his face, shaking his head for a split second, prior to calling something out to connie then making his way towards the truck.

the edges of your teeth penetrate the now flattened disc of the cough drop laying against your tongue to break it into tiny pieces and you’re swallowing the balm come ony slipping in and then shutting the car door.

“wassup?” the emeralds of eren’s eyes are flicking all over his boy’s face, examining it for a better read of the emotions ony’s too good at concealing. “talk.”

ony shakes his head, smoothly reversing out of the large lot, “nun i cant handle, pa,” he murmurs after a sniff, pressing the resume button located upon the steering wheel to recommence lucki’s leave her softly playing through the speakers.

“nah, quit that,” eren lowers the volume even more. “you always do this shit — let stuff pile up and stress you the fuck out then you come home and hole yourself up in a room, only to blow the fuck up at a pen dropping.”

as big on communicating ony is, when it’s boiled down to himself, he doesn’t hold the same regard. what’re things he wouldn’t put up with from you and eren are some he also does, though doesn’t expect to be nor appreciates being, called out on. it’s an interesting topic to delve into upon you realizing that ony had been the one to really throw himself into learning more about the relationship dynamic you all shared near the first couple months of you all making it official — watched videos, read books and articles the sizes of novels — all efforts unneeded when he plainly stated, ‘ shit is jus’ like monogamous relationships with more communication. we need to communicate above everything else for us to work. ‘

through the corner of your eye, you watch confliction dance upon the handsome features of ony’s face — he takes off his cap, scratches his head, puts it back on, rolls his lips into his mouth, then huffs out a breath through his nose. “that gt s? client wants white interior with grey trimming. was expected to be done by the end of this week, at most, eight days from now, but j put in the wrong request. we have that shit shipped from fucking developers in countries a day ahead of us,” he explains, pupils locked on the road ahead of him. “so now we gotta put in the fucking request again, wait for them to ship the material, have it come here and do what we need to do. shit pushes us out like two weeks, maybe more.”

eren lets himself soak it all in. it’s a stressful situation sure, but, “you said this is a loyal client of yours, right? what, like, this his fifth car bein done by you?” when a confirmation is given, eren relaxes, “. . ‘m not gonna lie, ‘yan, if he wasn’t, you’d be fucked. let him know all this, he should understand.”

the drive to your campus is more quiet than usual. what had been slight conversation and laughter between the two men on the drive to eren’s shop is now tensed. a stranger could see how taut ony appears now, mind elsewhere as he rubs the short hairs hanging from his chin, eyes focused though mind far some place else, while he drives.

you’re a quiet thing come the truck falling into park in front of your university’s administration building. “c’mon, ma.”

it’s a short meeting — you’re congratulated on your achievement on making the dean’s list, told your attendance needs just the slightest bit more work, and aided in the process of choosing which few classes are needed in order for you to receive your degree come the following semester.

“damn,” ony’s mumbling while scanning the sheet of your transcript you’d given him after exiting the office where he and eren sat in the chairs beside. “all a’s, a couple b’s. good job, mama, we gotta get you somethin’.”

the decision between an all expense mall trip or a vacation is screeched into a halt come your rolled eyes and snide comment, “well, duh. ‘m not a fucking dumbass.”

you’re positive that the world goes completely silent.

you had expected a firm ‘ language ‘ or even a quick spank when shielded behind the heavy body of ony’s truck — you’d expected him to be the one to do so, albeit, it’s eren who presses you back against the trunk. your gasp echoes off of the wet, cemented walls within your campus’ near empty underground parking garage.

your eyes are rounded with panic come the hand around your throat, squeezing it. concurrently, eren’s face is completely barren of emotion when he says, “third strike.”

you go to squirm your way out of his hold, wiggling and pushing, however, he’s pressing you closer against the trunk, angling his head down. you’re left to keep yourself still, fear rushing through your veins near the speed of light come the sight of his warm breath being expelled into frigid air as he speaks, foggy and thin, “stop fuckin’ playing with me and get y’lil ass in the car . . now.”

his hold on you is heavy as he directs your steps around the car, to the backseat. you watch him open the door and given your trembling knees and shallow breaths, you’re whining, “eren, quit it,” as you climb in.

“it’s been over three nonstop hours of your smart ass mouth, mama. i’m sick of it. you already know what you in for later.”

you’d thought that he wouldn’t be serious, nonetheless, at the reminder you’re pouting your lips and shaking your head, “w-wait, no, ‘m sorry—”

“—i bet.”

you don’t want to be reminded of your last reprimands — the no touching, the bounding, the spanks.

your tears are a play on their emotions, both men are aware, “i didn’t even do anything that bad today,” you’re mewling come on the drive to the bookshop.

ony glances at you through the rear view’s reflection. he sees your folded arms, pouted, shimmering lips, the fire that still dances beneath your eyes. you never learn your lesson. “sure about that, ma’?” he asks, taking in the way you barely nod as you gaze back at him. “you already know how we feel about that cussin’ shit—“

“—that’s not fair!”

“i’m not bouta explain this shit again ‘cause you already know why,” he calmly retorts, eyes refocused on the road. “you slammin’ doors, stompin’ all over the place, ignorin’ people — and you seriously don’t think you did anything wrong?”

the last syllable of the word is popped as you quip a quiet, “nope.”

“alright.”

ony decides to go that route, too. that oblivious route, that arrogant route. you’re aware both him and eren are men of their word, he doesn’t understand why you’re so keen on pressing a huge, red button on their nerves labeled ‘ don’t touch ‘ — damn near slamming your fists on it, actually.

the bookstore errand is quick and eren goes alone into the pharmacy to pick up your medicine, followed by a vial of vitamins in efforts to build up your clearly fragile immune system.

home is after a soup and tea grab and you purposely drag your feet on the way to the elevator, pouty and mean faced while both men intentionally walk behind you, annoyingly patient.

“don’t make me throw you over my shoulder, mama.”

your bow studded, acrylic topped middle finger acts as a silent reply to eren’s statement. you figure that since you’re already so deep within the pool of their vexation, why not swim out even further?

given the façade of your big and bad girl shield, as soon as the front door to the apartment is open, you’re fighting to make a run for it.

“eek, no!” you’re squealing when eren grabs you by the waist mid sprint and tosses you akin to a lump of produce over the firm hill of his shoulder. “eren, i swear—“ your threat is broken by a coughing fit. the sound of mucus rings clear within everyone’s ears and you’re letting out a harsh sneeze upon your butt being planted in a seat at the island. “y-you both — so mean.”

“shit’s gonna make you drowsy.” onyankopon’s pouring the thick, turquoise colored cough syrup within the small cap provided, disregarding your comment. he fills it to the brim before handing it to you. “swallow.”

you’re obeying, shockingly, turning your nose up and wrinkling your brows come the taste.

“here.”

eren holds out three gummies, pink, orange, and purple, in the shapes of organs — intestines, heart, and lungs. you’re popping them within your mouth quickly to chase the bitter flavor of the medication, needy for the soup that ony begins to grab from within a paper bag. how quick they are to take care of you softens your heart. you wish you’re able to exude that feeling in the forms of your usual kisses and hugs and smiles, nonetheless, you merely grab your bowl of soup to quietly begin to eat without another glance given.

you hear them begin to move around — doors shutting, tv powering on, sighs from the long day being expelled from heavy chests. “fuck do i wanna make for dinner?” eren mumbles from his position in front of the fridge. “wait, nah — yan’?” his voice rises to catch ony’s attention from upstairs.

you can hear him walking towards the landing that overlooks the first floor while mumbling, “yeah?”

“dinner. i want you to make that salmon.”

ony’s soft, dark chuckle makes your heart swoon, “nah, you want me to make?”

eren’s smile makes your tummy swarm with butterflies,“ ‘m not beggin’, man.”

“aight, jaeger,” he utters, stepping away from the railing. “fuck it.”

when you’re done with your soup, eren and ony are both upstairs. the effects of the medicine has already begun to sink in, blurring your sight, lidding your eyes. you’re sniffling as you slowly slug yourself inside of the bedroom where eren sits upon the edge of the bed, cleaning his shoes, and ony showering in the bathroom.

at first sight of you, eren’s softening. he simply can’t help it. you’re too precious, you’re too pretty. given all your whines, you’re still his baby. “c’mere, bug.”

you’re sagging within him when he opens his arms, feeling him plop you down on his lap so that he can pull off your shoes, leg warmers, then the rest of your clothes. it leaves you in your undergarments which you’re comfortable with and you go to crawl underneath the weighted duvet and lay against your pillow, letting the soothing arms of sleep envelop you.

”did you ever have intercourse in this office?”

”. . . are you serious? ugh — where? . . where . . . . where, dwight?”

”seems like you already know where.”

you wake to the sound of a soft chuckle. it flows through the canals of your ears and compels you to flutter open your eyes, fixing them upon eren whose body lays right beside your own.

your sniffle is the sound that makes him look down at you from his position of being propped up on one, flexed arm. “hey,” he gently mumbles, eyes checking your face for signs of any discomfort. “finally up?”

you give a leisure nod, rolling over onto your back to slowly pull your arms above your head, fingers interlocked, then arch your back upwards.

“big stretch.”

ony turns his head over his shoulder from his position seated at the edge of the bed, wine red durag tied tight upon it, to watch you. you give a long moan as you do so, hearing a few bones crack as they realign themselves more comfortably within your back. eren shifts beside you, moving about until a glass of cool water is being transferred into your hand, “c’mon, drink.”

the world outside is dark and the heavy, white curtains that normally shield the wall of a window beside the bed are wide open. city lights — studs of whites, yellows, blues, and reds glimmer and wispy, grey clouds akin to stretched cotton shift slowly across the skies.

gratefully, you sit up to gulp down the water, releasing a soft sigh when all done.

“good girl.”

you rub your eye with your knuckles as eren sets the glass down upon the nightstand and ony turns himself back forward. “you sleep good?”

“mhm.”

you find yourself reaching over to climb your body atop of the brunet beside you and he lets you. “shit,” you hear the grin in his voice as he starts to rub his hand along your back. “what’s this? . . i thought i was so mean earlier?”

you feel a sweltering burn flourish from your cheeks to your nose. you bury your face into his shoulder, refusing to say a word.

“mm, you get some food, medicine, and sleep in you and now you actin’ right?” eren thumbs with the lace of your underwear and hastily, earlier’s affairs fly through your brain, frame by frame corresponding a montage. “can’t say it doesn’t make sense. ‘s all you ever need now’days, hm?” the door slamming, the swears, the molten heat glowing bright within eren’s eyes as he called out your final strike.

you’re shifting your body to rise up on your palms and look at him, however, eren’s heavy arm is suddenly pulling you back down, not allowing you to move.

“don’t do it,” his utter is delicate. “don’t even try it.”

you kick out your legs come the sound of the tv shutting off. no longer does sound drown out how your breath begins to quicken and the beginning trills of your whimpers. it’s all happening too fast, you need to breathe, “w-wait, wait—“

“—you couldn’t have thought that we forgot, baby girl.”

ony’s tone is soft. it’s adapting that pitch where he speaks to you as if you were nothing but a stupid, little thing who doesn’t know left from right — as if your head had been filled with nothing but glitter and moondust.

eren’s humming, letting his palm slowly slide from your back to the cheeks of your ass. his fingers knead the soft flesh, similar to dough, squeezing and rubbing, occasionally rolling. “was gonna have you write lines, maybe force you to do some housework with no clothes on — take it easy on you, but . .” air is pulled within his mouth through his teeth. a sharp sound is heard followed by the wind whistling as his palm cuts through it to quickly fall down onto the round globe of your left ass cheek. the way you immediately burst into tears is simply delightsome. “at the way you was talkin’ and actin’ today, i knew you wouldn’t have learned your lesson.”

your head is lifted by the back of your neck so that you can face ony who now stands beside the bed. you’re sniffling, sweet brown eyes laminated with tears, “o-ony . . ‘rennie, please.”

“you beggin’?” he’s smiling over his bottom lip, teeth white and flawlessly aligned. “awe, shit. she’s beggin, baby.”

eren lets another swat fall. you squeak, hands instinctively reaching out to cover your skin from another. “wanna move ‘em or do we have to hold ‘em—“

“—m-move, i’ll . .” you swallow, shaking your head. you don’t want that. “i’ll move them, ‘rennie.”

ony lets you go, allowing your face to fall back inside the pocket of eren’s neck. you hear him murmur something about ‘ lube ‘ and the simple word signals your toes to curl because you’re aware of the harsh, blissful decadence you’re sure to endure come only minutes from now.

“no counting,” eren mumbles against your ear. “gonna stop when i feel like you’ve had enough.”

the spanks he rains down on your ass are nothing short of cruel and quick. unlike ony, eren doesn’t have a rhythm. he doesn’t subject you to alternate hits upon each cheek at a steady clip, no, he’d swat three against your right, two on your left, one near that pretty cusp where your thigh and ass met, then another near the inside of it.

you’re sobbing, pulling at the hold his singular hand that the both of your wrists eventually find themselves locked into.

your skin stings — it burns with the onslaught of a calloused palm employing just enough strength to blossom bruises upon the gentle canvas.

midway, eren lifts up and swings his legs to plant his feet on the floor, leaving you laid over his lap. the position makes it easier to keep your squirming under control. he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t wanted to watch the way the brown, plump orbs of your ass recoil and bounce back with each hit, too. “awe,” his chuckle shakily breaks the syllables of the word. your weeps underlying the thick smacks of skin on skin were absolutely adorable. “you can take it, my love. ‘s what you wanted. this had to be what you’ve been needin’.”

you hate his words because you’re aware that there’s a tiny shred inside of you that knows they’re true. with each jewel shelled tear that manifests from the rinds of your eyes and drips down your sweet cheeks is a stress relieved. as you tense with each hit, you also melt against him, weakening, and your mind drains just a bit more along with it.

“mmm,” eren’s voice is a deep hum as he pauses for a moment to roll your warm ass against his palm. “there you go.”

he lands another spank, watching your body jolt. you no longer fight, only cry.

“spread her.”

ony’s voice is similar to a bucket of cold water being splashed against you after a week of baking in a sauna. you feel eren release your wrists, prior to your hips being yanked up to assemble you onto your knees, back curved in. “that‘s right,” ony’s mumbling as the familiar cap of a bottle opening rings inside of your ears. “lift that ass up.”

when rough hands are spreading you open, you’re whining, trying to get a look at what was happening though all you were able to see was eren’s bare, tatted arms holding you and ony standing behind. “w-wha’ — daddy, wait—“

“—spit on it, baby,” he’s mumbling to eren.

a glob of warm saliva is shot onto the tight, winking hole of your ass before being rubbed in with a thumb. both sensations induce a warm shiver that takes over your spine, provoking your fingers to grip the sheet underneath you. “mhm,” a sleeker finger, a rougher one, does the same before it begins to sink inside, nice and slow. you whine, clenching, kicking out your feet.

both men watch how your hole swallows the digit greedily, all the way to the knuckle, pulsing around it. ony isn’t impressed. he makes the ring of muscle loosen by stroking his middle finger in and out until he’s able to pushing in his ring right along side of it.

your pussy thumps underneath, little hole leaking out a trickle of translucent sap that thickens into an orb at your clit.

“gon’ fuck that attitude right outta’ you, mama. don’t even worry about it.”

you find yourself pushing back into his hand, dizzy and gone as you whine, “d-don’t have an attitude anymore, pa’.”

another smack to your ass. you whimper.

“yeah, i know.”

eren spits once more, watching the liquid slip between ony’s fingers, only to get pushed inside of you upon an inwards thrust. the way your ass swallows the appendages is prizewinning. it’s shocking because, “when’s the last time we fucked it?”

ony’s eyes are focused on his fingers as he murmurs, “ ‘bout three months ago, right before that fuckin’ halloween party.”

eren thinks he’s drooling come that orb at your clit beginning to lengthen into a sticky, dangling thread between your legs. “mm, shit, ‘s right,” he lets his mind flash him back. “fuckin’ lola bunny costume.”

you had wore nothing but a tiny, cropped basketball jersey with matching shorts whose hemming stopped right after the half cup of your ass. eren thinks it had been the tall, clip in bunny ears and matching ball of fluff that did it for him, contrarily, ony’s undoing had been the thigh high socks.

they had taken you on the floor within the foyer like two rabid animals. you’d been two hours late to the party and couldn’t sit down in fear of wincing in front of the wrong person.

when you’re able to take almost four fingers is when ony and eren let you go. you fall onto your back against the bed, feeling your undergarments being slipped from off of your body after. it leaves you bare, chest heaving, and limbs trembling.

both eren and ony wear nothing but sweats. tatted skin is displayed — black ink against dark brown and olive dusted skin. “bring that ass here.”

when you find yourself in a position that has your head hanging from the ledge of the bed, face only inches away from ony’s groin, you know exactly what to expect. “daddy, be gentle.”

he can’t help but laugh at your statement. the absolute nerve of you. had you been gentle earlier? gentle with your words, your tone, with eren and him? “open that shit.” his cock springs from the inside of his sweats come his thumb pulling down the waistband to rest underneath the heavy sac of his balls. you admire it up close — the dark mahogany of his shaft and the multitude of veins pulsing across it, the dark rouge of his leaky tip where a thick dewdrop of precum sits — it all makes your clit thump, rushing with blood, hardening and swelling.

come your mouth slowly creaking open, ony has to wait until a large enough gap is revealed for him to push himself in. you choke as he groans, eyes rolling back and closing at the feel of your throat spasming. “fuck, ‘s exactly what y’lil ass needed — dick in y’mouth to get that attitude in check.”

he gazes at your plump bottom lip and the way your throat bulges as you swallow him down. you sweetly snivel, pretty fingers lifting to your tits to pinch your nipples between two of them, rolling and pulling.

you feel a weight settle between your legs as two hands force your thighs apart.

soft hair tickles the insides of them as eren leans down to peck a delicate kiss against your clit, watching your pussy greet him with a splurt of warm cream. he hadn’t wanted to give you what was clear you craved so quick, but damn, it’s hard. he can’t help himself come his tongue swiping out for a taste and partaking in that sweet, tangy flavor distinct to only you. he hums quietly, aligning his top lip near the base of your mound while the bottom of his jaw rises up and down as his tongue strokes wetly over your clit, suckling and swallowing.

you whine around ony’s cock, knees bending around eren’s head.

“nah, focus,” he mumbles, wrapping his hand around your throat while his own form a slight hook so that he can begin to rock his dick, smoothly in and out of your mouth. “f-fuck, yes — there you go.” the sight of it drives him mad. you’re taking him so swell — gurgling, slurping, and chugging. the insides of your cheeks are soft while the duct of your throat is tight and ridged. he has to give a little push each time his dick pushes inside to work it through. how such a sweet mouth can fix the nastiest things to say baffles ony completely.

he can tell that this was what you’ve been needing, can tell that all that backtalk was the usual angel in you banging against the charade you’ve put on all day to come out. ony knows she’s not all the way free, nevertheless. you’re not pleading as much as you usually do, there’s no clawing, desperate hands, and high pitched squeals layered under sweet cries of titillation.

when he pulls his dick from your mouth, you don’t beg for it back, only pout.

ony slaps his tip against the plump skin of your lips, over and over. smack. smack. smack. he lets strings of his precum drip over them, your chin, your cheeks, your nose. he wants you to feel degraded — wants you to realize that you can never win the battle against the two of them when it’s heavy sighs and bratty banter as your defense.

you’re whimpering, eyes closed, eyebrows furrowed, body twitching and little frown pulling at your lips. you look about two seconds away from tears, ony loves that.

“ima let you handle her, pa’,” he mumbles, swatting a firm enough smack against the side of your face to get you to open your eyes once more. “break her in. make’er cry.”

the smile on his face unnerves you.

“yeah?” eren shoots a blob of spit on your pussy before sliding up to hover above you, one hand pressed into the mattress beside your head, and the other beginning to toy with your clit. “bet.”

with them both above you, you soon begin to fall into your place. “wait—“

“—wait, wait, wait,” eren drones in a low mime of your voice, lifting himself to snatch you in closer. “no more waitin’, baby. you fucked up. if you knew you couldn’t take this shit, you shouldn’t have dished it out.”

he folds you up, firmly pushing your legs until your knees press into the thousand dollar sheets your head lies upon. shoved into a position so callous has you almost eyesight with your own cunt.

you see the way a bead of slick clings onto your lip before beginning a mocking trail down the crease of your thigh. it’s humiliating.

“mm,” eren bites his lip. similar to ony, he doesn’t take his sweats completely off, merely pulls them down just enough to tug his heavy cock out.

your eyes are hazed over as you watch his ruddy tip begin to rock along your slit. those three, little silver barbells, pierced within the mite of skin and running vertically underneath his frenulum induce a needy moan, “daddy, please.”

“quiet.”

he takes his time, using his thumb as a hold to keep his fat crown in place as his cock strokes your clit up and down, up and down. your pretty lashes flutter as you close your eyes and grab hold of your thighs. “yeah,” he hums. waves of his hair fall down over his shoulders, blanketing his face. his eyes appear brighter within the darkened lighting of the room. “lean into it, mama — you feel it?”

“mhm.”

a few feet away, ony pushes open the sliding door so that he can step out onto the balcony. he stands within the threshold, between the platform and the bedroom all in efforts to keep a keen eye on you both while he sparks a blunt he holds between his lips, hand cupped around the flame ignited from his lighter.

he can’t see much — only eren’s flexing back and your little feet but he knows when eren slides inside of you.

you gasp, loud and long, and your toes tense before they curl.

“oh, shit.”

eren groans at the sensation of your walls — grooved, warm, and soppy — hugging the circumference of his cock as he pushes in. you don’t deserve the usual soft, sweet kisses eren’s prone to leaving across your lips and fluff of your cheeks when he has you in a position so vulnerable, no, you deserve his hand wrapped around your throat and the deep, hard thrusts he’s immediately pounding into your cunt as soon as he deems you ready for them.

the way a trickle of drool begins to slip down your face from your opened mouth and your eyes scroll back into your head as you take it shouldn’t be so fucking attractive.

the music of slapping skin, long moans, and squeaky sobs ricochets off of the walls into ony’s ears. he considers weed a wondrous drug — the best of the best. too many times has a blunt saved him from stressing himself out into a stroke, from either dealing with his job, his family, on the occasion, you. he adores it because when the effects of the drug start to catalyze, he’s able to focus on one, or rather tonight, two things only. you and eren.

his eyes hone in on the thick, umber curls of eren’s hair, free from its usual elastic and running down to stop at his shoulders. a gorgeously etched tat of a faceward, teeth baring dragon, bordered with branches of cherry blossoms inks the entire canvas of his back. shades of pinks, reds, whites, and yellows ripple harder and harder the firmer he fucks you.

“move y’fuckin’ hand, ( ❤︎ ).”

despite his words, eren pushes your hand away himself from pressing against the front of his pelvis. your entire body shivers as if you were a withered leaf in the fall. “s-so deep, papa,” you’re mewling, back arching upwards into a semilune as he presses in nice and full once more. feeling his tip tapping at that familiar textured barrier nestled far inside of you, you press at him once more, “unh, t-too deep . . c-can’t take — noo.”

“ ‘s not your decision,” eren takes a moment to stroke his thumb across your bottom lip. he’s pleased to watch your tongue curl around it so that you can pull it further into your mouth when he leans forward and begins to fuck you harder. “f-fuck — pussy’s made for me, hm. bet you know, mmph, better now than to act like that.”

your g spot is found when your legs intertwine around eren’s slim waist so that you’re able to tug him in further. your hips tilt up which allows his pierced tip to begin stroking the roof of your pussy, right up against that magical little button.

tears are immediate. no longer are words capable. what some you do churn in your brain get lost on the brisk trip through your nervous system and out your mouth, leaving nothing but intelligible babbles to leave your lips.

“there we go,” eren’s groaning, breaths hard and chuffed as he trades his rhythm for a more steady pull out then quick slam in. “c’mon — f-fuck yes — take it, mama. take it for me.”

ony hears you squeak as your charm studded nails drag belts of red across his hips. you’re cumming. he hears it in your tone. he commends eren for breaking you so quickly. you’re weeping and sniffling, fingers holding onto his biceps as you sweetly sob for him to ‘ give you a second. ‘

eren quiets you with a kiss. his lips move smoothly against yours as his cock fucks you through your orgasm — not slowing nor stopping. “you’re so pretty,” he mumbles into the heat of your mouth, hips circling on the thrusts in. “ungh . . fuck, you’re s-so fuckin’ pretty.” this is supposed to be about teaching you a lesson, but, when you look up at him like that, with your eyes shimmering with tears, body trembling, lips parted, you look like you feel so good, eren can’t help but let a praise slip in here and there.

“mm,” you give a loopy, little smile with your eyes closed simultaneously when a splash of wetness squirts out around his dick. “y-you’re, oh, prettier, daddy.”

eren huffs a chuckle into your neck, “g-gonna, ‘m gonna cum. you ready?”

you interlock your arms around his neck, nodding into his shoulder, “m-mhm.”

he wholeheartedly adores how your pretty, little pussy likes to begin to flutter around him — muscles pumping across the thick pillar of his cock, trying its best to work his nut free come each time he warns you of his release. eren doesn’t even think you intentionally do it, your tiny cunt is just always so desperate and hungry and needy for it that it happens involuntarily.

“m-my pretty girl,” he huffs, bowing his forehead against the bouncing hill of your tit. your fingers find his nape and they scratch along it, overwhelming only the best parts of eren’s brain. his eyes are rolling back, he even thinks a trickle of drool is slipping down the corner of his lips. “fuckin’ — ohhh . . shit. gonna be our wife, hm? jus’ ours?”

“only yours.”

the words quake over the trills of your hiccups, moans, and the sound of slapping skin. you make sure eren can hear you when you mewl out a more quiet, “only daddies’,” into the cusp of his ear, not at all stunned come the immediate feeling of thick warmth pulsing into you soon after. he holds you tight, arms wrapped underneath your back to completely hold you against his chest as his hips continue to rock and pivot, pressing his dick in deeper, making sure his cum sticks.

“mm,” you loll your head to the side, sweetly sated and dazed. “love your cum.” potent, sweet, and a pearly white. birth control is your only savior because you know it’d only take a single load of his to knock you up, if not by twins, then maybe triplets.

“i love you,” he mumbles in reply. you feel a soft peck at the center of your rib cage before his head is lifting so that he can mimic another upon your gentle lips. “so much.”

you don’t want him to pull out just yet, however, ony’s quiet “baby boy.” prompts eren’s attention.

he lifts up on a hand while the other slips between you two so that he can cautiously begin to slide his cock from out of you. “mm, yeah, pa’?” he breathes softly, eyes locked on your swollen clit — pink and smooth.

“need you to do somethin’ for me.”

you watch eren slip off of the bed and walk, clearly weak limbed, over to where ony stands by the balcony door. he utters something to him, low and incomprehensible. eren seems to understand because he gives him a nod, prior to leaning into him for a kiss after ony takes a hit of his blunt.

“don’t get me fuckin’ started, jaeger,” ony utters, watching him inhale the smoke stolen from his mouth.

eren breathes it out through his nose, soft smile playing on his lips, “nah, you didn’t even ask if i wanted a hit, ‘yan. fuck you.”

blame it on the weed because in another case, ony would normally be lightning quick in snatching him up, albeit, he can only take a small step toward eren before he’s quickly dodging him to head for the closet.

around his blunt, ony delicately utters. “nun but two fuckin’ brats i got, man,” before stubbing it out and shutting the balcony door.

his steps are slow and lazy as he walks over to where you lay. the moonlight enshrouds you beautifully. he’s able to see the sheen of sweat that glazes your forehead, the still glistening luster of eren’s saliva over your nipples and neck — the cum that drips out of your battered, little pussy.

how eren’s able to ruin you, so brisk and effortlessly at that, stupefies ony. and though he knows you’re sensitive, all of you know how easy it is to play your body like a fiddle, ony still just can’t help but think regardless, if any other person were to be in their shoes, they wouldn’t be able to do what the two of them can — you prove this statement correct each time the three of you find yourselves in a predicament like this.

“you know you fucked up, right?” the question is more of an assertion. you tense when ony grabs you by the ankle to tug you more to the edge, then by the waist to flip you over.

“mm-mm.”

maybe you did. you’re aware your attitude could’ve been . . considerably better today. still, it isn’t your fault that she wanted to come out and play — the brat in you, that is. it’s not.

you hear eren walking back toward you both when ony yanks your hips up so that you kneel, breasts pressed against the bed and back arched. he hands him something.

eren wants to slip in a ‘ take it easy on her ‘ because he sees what type of timing ony is on. he’s a backshot kind of guy, sure, nonetheless, usually he prefers to see your face — have you ride him, bounces you on his cock while he stands up, the occasional full nelson.

you have fucked up.

and eren had known ony was upset, but he didn’t know he’d be this pissed.

how his lubed up cock ends up pounding that sweet, little hole above your pussy is beyond all three of you. how you managed to slip and end up prone bone between the fat wand of a vibrator on your clit and ony on top of you is also a mystery unsolved.

words are impossible, making a sound is damn near vain when you feel the swaying, solid sac of ony’s balls smacking against your cunt with each downwards thrust of his dick inside of your ass. each time you find one of their heavy cocks buried inside of a cavern so tight and small — you think you go a little bit brain dead. you don’t want to move from your spot in fear of feeling him pull out. you wish you’re able to keep him here, inside of you until the end of your days, when dusks blur into dawns and the world whizzes past you.

“you know what he wants, ma’.”

eren’s presence only worsens that aching whirl of a feeling inside of you. you sob around the fingers that he slips past your lips — cheeks stained, eyes puffy. still, you look up at him when he lifts your chin, “say it,” he softly demands, emeralds drilling. “. . say it.”

“ ‘m . .” you swallow around a cute yelp when ony splits the glossed cheeks of your ass far apart to watch his cock continue to push in that tautened ring. “ooh — ‘m sorry, daddy.”

ony huffs around a short laugh, swatting a leaden smack upon it, “now we fuckin’ talkin — so, now you wanna speak up.”

eren has pulled a twig from the dam. when the words finally leave you, they don’t stop. “i’m s-sorry, i’m sorry — f-fuck, ‘m sorry, please. papa, please.”

“we know, we fuckin know,” ony appreciates your apologies. he genuinely does. but your ass feels too fucking good around his dick and still, four sorries? he thinks him and his boy deserve a couple more. “we might jus’ forgive you, mama.”

he feels you cumming. you shudder underneath him, little hands grappling for eren and him at the same while. he’ll let you have that. it’s the second of many.

“u-unh, hng . . hnggg,” eren watches you cry. you lay your head atop his thigh, suckling and drooling across his fingers as tepid gems of tears drip down to your temple. his cock stiffens against his sweats. you appear so pretty to him — a living princess out of a fairytale — only his. only ony’s.

“say i’m sorry for bein’ a brat,” he whispers, letting his thumb slip through the warm cascade along your cheek.

“i’m s-sorry . . . sorry f’being a brat.”

eren smiles, “a big brat.”

“a b-big brat.”

ony leans his head down to kiss beneath your ear, “sorry for cussin’.”

the vibrator moves underneath you — manages to find that perfect angle upon your clit that has your feet kick out and you give a squeal, “ ‘m sorry f-for cursing, daddy.”

“for not usin’ y’good girl manners . . for actin’ like a fuckin’ nightmare.” ony lowers his head to watch the supple cheeks of your ass continue to bounce as you babble out each regret.

you make it hard to be strict with you because you’re so good. you don’t fight back and whine and pout. you do as they say — no complaints or rolled eyes. just how he likes you. ony licks his lips and lifts up on the knuckles of his fists, “bouta’ fuckin’ cum,” he grits out quietly through his teeth. your walls are gripping him, your pussy is thoroughly soaked, the view of you and eren — it’s no question as to why it hits him so quick. “you know better than to try that shit again, hm? you know fuckin’ better.”

you do. you wish you were able to tell him so, however, your brain becomes too occupied — splitting to focus on the sensation of his fat cock splitting your plump, little ass in half and eren’s tatted hand, slipping his from out of his sweats to begin to stroke right before your face.

their thrusts are in tandem. quick, smooth, and long. you feel ony’s lips against the curved shell of your ear, you feel eren’s free hand still gripping the bottom of your jaw to keep your face in place. your mouth drops around a drawn out sob when that vibrator begins to stroke itself back and forth along that pert and hardened swell of nerves. “t-tongue out, princess. stick that fuckin’ tongue out,” eren’s thumb rubs across those piercings as ony grabs a nice handful of your ass to roll between his fingers.

“ready t’catch this nut, baby?”

they don’t give you much of a warning. warm, milky ribbons of ony’s cum shoots inside of your ass first before eren’s following to sweetly varnish the surface of your cheeks, tongue, nose, and chin. the sounds they make push you over your own edge once more — soft moans, hard groans, hisses, and sighs. you buck up into ony for more, trying your best to siphon him dry as you suckle along eren’s tip, whimpering and pliant.

“u-unh, fuck, shit baby — wait, wait,” eren’s hips are quivering as he pulls himself from your lips. your responding pout makes him breathe out a trembly laugh. “too sensitive. hold on.”

you feel that vibrator slip from under you and the buzzing cease as ony shifts from atop of you.

“d-don’t go yet,” you mewl, gripping onto his hand. “stay in.”

you don’t want to give up the feeling of being full so suddenly. you hear ony chuckle as he slowly stands, making you follow him by grabbing your hips and pulling you back up onto your knees. “ima plug you up, mama,” he mumbles. “be still for me, alright?”

you consider the pull out worse than the push in. your face is turned away from them both as you give a low whine come the laggard tug of his dick being freed from your hole, inch by inch.

ony admires the way it winks up at him when it’s empty — stretched and tender. he doesn’t want a drop of his cum to fall. he pushes in a heart base, pink tinted, glass plug to replace him, watching you swallow it, needy. “there we fuckin’ go.” he kisses the base of your back, flipping you over to gather you inside of his arms as eren reaches in the nightstand for a few wipes and cooling lotion.

“you did good, princess.”

you feel a cold wipe being rubbed across your face then one along your thighs as you lay your head atop of his shoulder, eyes closed, “ ‘m a good girl,” you mumble quietly. you just had a bad day, is all.

“the fuckin’ best girl,” eren adds on with a kiss to your temple.

ony pecks your lips, “you number one.”

your loopy, little smile of satisfaction lets both men know that what they’d said has been what you’ve been dying to hear all this time.

your soft knees burn against the material of your lover’s murakami rug underneath you due to the continuous back and forth motion of his weight pushing against and off of you. you’re aware that a puddle of drool is devising beneath your cheek. you feel the cool dampness of it — god, it’s gross. it’s disgusting.

“o-on’ — god, i c-c,” you don’t think you’re able to breathe. your lips shape around the opening syllables of his name, though they’re unable to fully form due to the never ending compress and expand of your lungs trying to suck in as much oxygen as they can. “onya’!” you squeal out his name when he releases a rough huff while adjusting himself more fully over you, one foot flat on the floor, the other leg still bent as he kneels.

his cock is . . .

you’re sure that words won’t be able to fully and accurately describe it. each time you find yourself a little bit tipsy with your friends — a little bit tipsy and needy, you go on a spiel about how perfect he is.

“you said, and this is like, the most fucking exact quote ever,” ymir’s face had been smoothened over in her usual deadpan as she fluidly sliced up a banana for her habitual post workout smoothie. “ ‘god, he’s jus’ so pretty and he smells so good and his dick — should i? mm . .’ and you laughed like a fuckin’ maniac right here. ‘okay, okay i will, its . . it’s huge,’” she tossed the fruit in the blender while you buried your face in your palms while squealing and shaking your head. “don’t wanna hear it anymore? cool. i didn’t wanna fucking repeat it.”

it is huge.

and it’s heavy. you practically feel the weight of it cumbering down inside of your squelching, chubby pussy — working and pushing right up against the spongy nub of your g spot.

you hate that he’s so . . angry. you feel how hard his large, soft hands grip your waist. usually, they touch you so delicately. they wipe your tears, fix a braid out of place, carefully adjust a shirt’s strap. they don’t spank you this hard and snatch you back into place when your body begins to slip.

onyankopon’s known for having a bit of a dark side, everyone on campus is aware.

what everyone sees at parties and lectures and quads is what they get. he’s quiet — doesn’t speak unless spoken to and keeps his opinions to himself. he’ll lounge on a bench with his friends, fists shoved in his billionaire boy’s labeled hoodie, legs spread wide agape to accommodate you upon his lap and he’d just . . . listen. rarely would he offer a laugh or comment — the most is a wide, handsome grin displaying all of his pretty, white teeth ( a glistening gold cap covering the bottom row at social events ) or a slight scoff at the mention of something irritable.

the country’s beloved, college quarterback star only fetes his hidden rage and anger on the field. opposing teams are the target of such . . and sometimes his own mates.

you’ve only had a first hand witness to such after meeting him following a losing game outside of the locker room, still dressed in your cheer uniform. you heard him yell for the first time, loud and livid . . his smooth voice echoing off porcelain walls and cold steel.

it had made you jump and recoil . . flinch back when he came walking out the doors, last of course, and automatically reach for you for comfort.

you hadn’t mean to, not at all, but would he shout at you like that, too?

ony didn’t appreciate that.

from then on, you were to meet him at his car . . a sleek, black on black hellcat, passenger seat decorated with your own pink trimmed cover and sewn in name.

this leaves you both here . . today.

you had ace’d an exam, received a more than beautiful check for your hours in working at the campus’ library along with a few tutoring sessions on the side, you were happy.

albeit, walking through his frat house’s doors and greeting ony who’d only given you a swift look up and down from the cute, gyaru - like beach wedges on your feet, the tiny, denim flared skirt on your hips, and gingham patterned crop top adorned upon your chest, you knew he was upset.

“what — hnnggg, please — w-what’d i do?” you drag out the last word through a slurred whine when he swats a specific slap against the back of your soft thighs. not even your ass . . he wants you to feel this shit tomorrow.

his breaths are hard. you can’t see him but you know his eyes, dark and drilling, are staring directly into the back of your head. “don’t play fuckin’ stupid, ( ❤︎ ),” he grits out quietly. “please don’t.”

he takes hold of the globes of your ass, spreading them far apart, making sure you feel the cool air glide over your holes. it feels colder than usual because you’re so wet. “ ‘s my fuckin’ pussy, yeah?” he pants out. “shit, ‘s supposed to be . . . givin’ my shit out — y’got me lookin’ like a fuckin’ bitch out here, man, look—“ his own words seem to ignite the roaring flames of his anger.

you squeak when he reaches down to grab you by the front of your throat, squeezing it just hard enough for you to gasp on your next inhale.

an inkling of fear plants itself within the pit of your stomach. what does he mean? what is he talking about? “ ‘m not.” tears paint your face, sticky and warm. your make up is ruined. no fair. you were so excited for the beach date you planned for the both of you . . you’d even picked out fat, ripened strawberries and dipped them in chocolate to harden the night before yourself. you even got a heart shaped pizza customized with his favorite toppings to shape out the both of your initials on it! “ ‘m not, i swe—“ you hiccup. “—ar . . ‘s yours, daddy. m’pussy’s all yours, i p-promise.”

ony thinks you talk a big game. you sound so genuine. how do you do that?

he’ll buy into it, “yeah,” he licks his lips, bending you further back, deepening that arch until it looks somewhat painful and he tilts himself forward.

he makes you look at him like that, from upside down and he admires the tears that shine across your soft cheeks. he huffs a scoff at the sight of your drool laminated chin and your shuddering body. “yeah, i bet,” he murmurs. “good girl ( ❤︎ ) . . fuckin’ cheerleader . . top ten on the dean’s list . . . gettin’ over and fuckin’ playing paradis university’s star quarterback ony asare,” his thrusts have slowed. he tilts his head, face a calculated blank, “think i don’t know what typa’ shit you tryna’ play with me, lil’ girl?”

you wish you could take a peek inside of his brain — finally get an understanding as to what he was talking about. “ ‘m not playing you, ony,” you realize now that the tears on your face were not only a cause of overbearing pleasure, but pain as well. you can hear it in ony’s voice how much he’s hurting and you hate that he won’t allow you to fix it. “w-what did i do?”

ony has stopped moving. he keeps your face in his hands and you see a muscle in his jaw tick as he tries to keep from speaking.

“nah,” he murmurs.

you sniffle, soft lips pouted, “talk to me, pa’.”

“no.” he lets you go and you fall forward, quietly catching your breath.

“yes.”

“you know what the fuck you did.”

“how do i know if i keep asking you?” you give a soft, little whine, making a move to pull yourself off of his dick to face him but he keeps you where you are with a firm smack to your ass.

“i saw you with my own two eyes smilin’ in your ex’s face . . i saw you invite that nigga into your apartment.”

god.

you knew that decision would come back to bite you in the ass. you bow your head, eyes closed. “ony . .—“

“—if i catch you in a lie, i’m done with you. you hear me?” abruptly, his voice doesn’t carry that edge anymore. he’s quiet and soft . . he nearly sounds like your ony again, which queues you in on the realization that he’s telling the truth. “gon’ be y’last time with me . . near me . . touching me. and i put that on everything i love.”

“ony, we didn’t do anything,” you turn your head over your shoulder to gaze into his eyes, making sure he read how genuine you were.

ony’s been the only person to recognize your tale ticks. you both know this.

“i found a box of his things buried in my closet that he never picked up, i swear,” your voice is a meek little thing . . broken and weary. “i dunno, to give you peace of mind, ymir was even home that day. i know you both share your own bond and we both know that she wouldn’t lie, not even for me. we didn’t do anything. he picked up the box and left . . wasn’t even in my apartment for three minutes.”

ony licks his lips, looking away from you for a few seconds. when he begins to slowly shake his head, you crumble.

your heart feels like it’s disintegrating within your chest as you go to speak, breath gone, “p-please, i would n-never do that to you,” you weep and go to pull off again but he keeps you still, once again. “onya, please.”

“lemme think, man. relax,” he places a palm at your lower back, right between the piercings that puncture the deep dimples at the base of it. he needs you quiet for a moment.

he saw that three days ago. while on the way to surprise you with your favorite food and that new marc jacobs tote you’ve had in your wishlist just because, he saw a familiar head of black curls and knew who the person had been.

your fuckin’ ex.

you and ony have been together for about twelve months. you dated jonah your freshman year of uni and the both of you hadn’t even lasted more than six, however the shit he did to you during the time was foul.

ony doesn’t like him. not one fucking bit. the only thing keeping him from sending a punch hard enough into the fucker’s face to knock him into a coma is his scholarship and, above all, you.

so, to see you open your door for him . . clearly willingly, dressed in that tiny ass, cute nightgown, give him a smile . . and step aside to allow him entry into your home had made ony feel a rage unorthodox to earth’s atmosphere. he felt sick to his fucking stomach.

wanted to block your number and socials then and there though could never get himself to do it. you were so excited for your date today, blew up his messages with your precious emoticons and exclamation marks that same night like nothing ever happened.

still, above all, you were telling the truth. ony can tell . . he feels it radiating off of you. your sweetness and how good you are, it’s palpable. regardless, you were right, too. if he still even felt a seed of doubt, he can ask ymir. the most blunt person the both of you knew — doesn’t hold shit back for anybody, best friend or not.

“. . . cross your fuckin’ heart,” he murmurs, side eyeing your pretty face face, foliated with woe and sorrow.

“i swear it to the stars.”

god, he feels so stupid now.

he rubs a hand across his tapered waves, bitter embarrassment slowly spreading across his chest similar to a crack in an icicle.

fuck it.

he suddenly presses you back where you were, hearing your little squeal of shock. “was gon’ have me transfer to another school and shit,” he huffs, jaw clenching once more at the thought. “would’ve had me cryin’ like a fuckin’ wimp . . you scared me, mama . . fuck.”

he can’t imagine losing you. ever.

“ ‘m s-sorry,” your toes coil tight within your wedges as he resumes that same brutal pace. you think his thrusts are hitting even harder now that he’s finally gotten a quiet mind for the first time in days. “s-should’ve never . .” you can’t get your words out but ony knows what you’re going to say.

he licks his thick, soft lips, pinning the bottom one beneath his top row of teeth, “should’ve never let that fed into your apartment . . should’ve took that box and burnt up all his shit, mhm . . i know.”

yeah.

he gets it.

you melt underneath him, successfully opening up your pussy even more, letting him batter it senseless. you feel yourself weakly gushing out your juices, feel a few droplets racing down your inner thighs to your knees, feel it packing into a paste at the foundation of his thick cock.

“unh, shit,” ony lets his head fall back at how perfect it all feels. “f-u—uuck . . gimmie this shit. take it, mhm, take it.”

your hips start to move. not back and forth but in smooth circular motions. ony watches how your fat, soft ass cheeks bounce off of his sculpted abdomen, how the skin ripples and pleats akin to hard ocean waves the stronger he fucks you.

to simply imagine another person in his place . . .

ony feels a murderous fervor burn inside of his chest. no longer opting to hold his tee out of the way, he pulls it up to bite down on the bottom and hold you more by the sides of your torso. his rhythm slows but he digs in deeper.

the steady smack . . smack . . smack sound of your skin meeting drives your brain into an empty void. “ohhh . . shit,” you moan out, honing in on the sensation of his balls, heavy yet firm, slapping against the throbbing bulb of your hard clit. “don’t s-st . . god, ony’ you’re,” you shiver, burying your face inside of your arms. you feel out of body. you can’t finish your sentence, he hears you begin to cry — all broken and full of mindless babbles and he smiles around his shirt.

“there we go,” he murmurs. “i’m diggin’ this shit out, mm? . . tell me how it feels, beautiful.”

your soft voice is but a quite whimper when you give a ‘ so good. ‘

ony reaches behind him for the neck of his shirt, tugging it over his head and tossing it to the side, prior to pulling out and swiftly turning you over onto your back.

the position change is so sudden. you blink, watching the world oscillate until you focus on him. you watch him lean down before he kisses you . . soft and slow as his hands part your legs open at the thighs. “put it in for me,” his low voice murmurs against your glossed lips. immediately, you comply, reaching between you both for his dick.

it throbs in your little hand, hard and wet with your slick. you tap his fat mushroom tip on your entry before letting it slip inside, mouth dropping at the instantaneous feeling of pleasure of his shaft splitting you wide open. the both of you groan out your little sighs, not bothering to separate your lips an inch. you can’t explain how happy you feel — with him, underneath him, touching him. “i l-love you,” you mewl when he’s dropping his dick in and out of your soppy center. “o-only you, pa’ . . i mean it.”

he nestles his face in your neck, breathing in a deep inhale. you smell like vanilla and jasmine. “love you . . m-maybe too fuckin’ much,” he admits quietly into the skin there. ony can’t help it. you’re everything he’s ever wanted and more.

he feels your cunt clenching down tighter and tighter, it only spurs on his own release, allowing his body to tense more and more. “hold it,” he breathes, pressing the pads of his fingers into your skin tighter. “hold that shit, baby . . wait.”

“i can’t,” you’re gasping while your nails prick against the rippling muscles of his back, splitting smooth, dark brown skin and revealing oozing plasma. you feel the muscles in your legs spasming. you know it’s going to hit you hard. “oh my god.”

ony starts to maneuver his hips, pivoting them with each inwards thrust, letting himself get lost in the feel of your ribbed walls, soft, gushy, and tight, massaging his dick, almost deliberately trying their best to work his nut free. “you f-fuckin’ dangerous, man,” he whimpers out your name, heavy hands grasping for the soft cheeks of your ass to begin to lift your hips and make you meet him halfway. “f-fuck, ‘m gonna . .”

“metoometoometoo.”

the both of you work desperately — recognizing that you’re both on the edge of something phenomenal. “cum in me,” he hears your pretty voice gasp in his ear. “please, daddy . . c’mon. gimmie it.”

dangerous isn’t the word, it doesn’t even cover half of what you are.

ony feels his toes curl and his muscles tense. his eyes snap tightly shut. “gotdamn,” he feels it. “. . . fuck!”

you cum when he does, legs escaping his hands to wrap tightly around his waist. you hold his hips in with your thighs, keeping him still. stars dance behind your eyelids as you hear your release audibly pour out of you and down the seam of your ass. you feel ony’s cock pulsing as he pushes out shot after shot of thick, warm cum, letting it all gather in that tiny crevice behind your cervix.

“s-shit, baby, wait,” ony’s hands are gripping at you. it’s as though he’s trying to pull you closer and peel you away.

your voice is dazed as you reach for his handsome face, rubbing your thumb softly across his bearded jaw, “shh, jus’ feel it, pa’ . . don’t i feel good?”

he fights it for about a second more.

he’s never came inside of you before . . inside of anybody.

but fuck, he feels you working it out of him, clenching and releasing. he feels how good it is.

he lets himself relax.

“. . h-have to buy y’lil ass a plan b now,” he groans, feeling the beginning factors of sleep begin to pull his eyes low. how immediate it is scares him. you fucking scare him. ony lets his body relax on top of yours, on the floor.

the way you rub his back is comforting. he can feel your heart thudding hard within the cage of your ribs. he’s sure the beat of it matches his own. “mhm,” you quip quietly. “. . our date?”

he groans, pecking a soft kiss underneath your jaw, “let’s take a nap, mm? a lil one . . gimmie thirty minutes.”

it takes over ten minutes for you to lift the both of you up off of the floor, complaining about how ‘gross’ it’d be for you guys to doze off there but you make it for his bed, collapsing down with your body on top of his now. your eyes are closed and your breathing is calm when you feel him kiss the crown of your head, “sorry for . . accusing you and shit,” at the sound of how bashful he sounds, it makes you want to smile. “wasn't cool. i gotta work on that.”

“you do,” you pout and lift your head to look up at him. “wasn’t nice.”

he licks his lips, eyes closed, smirking a bit, “y’got me outta’ character . .” at only the simple thought of his demeanor an hour ago, it all makes him want to shun himself away to spare the humiliation. “i don’t do all’lat.”

your responding giggle is precious, “you don’t do all’lat?”

“nah.”

“coulda fooled me.”

ony lifts his arm up high, eyes still closed, before letting it fall with little to no finesse, so that his hand can crack down onto your ass with a thundering smack!

you yelp out a high, whiny, “ony!”

“ ‘m sleeping. shh.”

his eyes were scarily dark, lids drooping over the pupils he dangerously lowered. his face sent off a variety of emotions. whether it be the fact that he was mad, or he was just completely inattentive to his surroundings. he appeared unfazed by movement of people around him. they glanced as his lips moved, a fairly light pink, almost mimicking his olive skin tone. his mouth moved with a quickness; a seduction. 

once he ended the call, there had been no indication of what the conversation had been about. whether he had been talking to a lover, or ending someone's life just by muttering a few passive words. he had been standing in the same spot for almost ten minutes now. he wanted to bring himself to move,  but a sudden flurry of two bodies flown in front of him—almost right on time. as if it were all supposed to happen.

“you know i still want your fine ass brother on my roster.”

a feminine, somewhat deep voice whispered in the distance from what he could hear, making the man watch as two beautiful women emerge from the entrance of the girls bathroom. both bodies halted as one leans against the wall with books held to their chest, the other shifting in their spot to adjust their tight jeans.

"the hell, i thought you were texting that boy on the football team?" 

the voice of this woman nearly makes his blood warm. it's soft and sultry, and now he's engaging himself into their conversation. 

"i'm texting several on the football team. yet the quarterback is the finest." 

"and he's probably the worst one," the other girl replies. 

from where he stood, he could spot alluring long dark hair that grazed the middle of her back. as desperate as it sounded, he craved to see her face—for her to make eye contact with him and feel the attraction he does. 

"jealous, vice?" the girl teases with a smile. 

vice. 

"girl, you wish," vice laughs softly, the two now  strutting away opposite from him towards their class. 

from this angle, getou catches a glimpse of her side profile. a face so beautifully pure but could be so shamelessly damaged. milky brown skin, his lips tremble from the urge to sink his teeth into it. it was almost preposterous. his eyes went wide when he observed the way she walked, the salacious switch of this woman's hips in her vintage dereon jeans making him twitch in more ways than one. curvy body adorned with a gold belly chain around her waist and a cropped black baby tee. colorful bangles decorated her wrists along with rings and two rows of necklaces, complimenting the infinite amount of colorful ink along her body—from the top of her neck, all the way to where his eyes wished he could see more. he wanted to see all of her. 

his head begins to spin with erotic possibilities, illicit and passionate thoughts running through his mind about what he could do to her. it was ridiculous. he didn't even know the girls name, and yet here he was, fantasizing about fucking her like the demon he knew he was. he takes this moment to follow behind the two women after standing in his position for too long, surprised his feet didn't drag behind like a lost puppy. 

the classroom where they sat happened to be the same one he's enrolled in, coughing briefly to focus his conscious on what's important, and that was finding his seat. 

"i still think this tattoo would look better on the side of my ass," alani pouts, sliding her phone for vice to look at a sketch of a cherry blossom thorn as she suggests, "or maybe the back of my thigh?" 

"either way you're gonna scream like last time. and that was only angel numbers, on your wrist. no shading.” vice replies, wanting to focus on this idea she had for her own thousandth tattoo, pencil moving swiftly. 

alani sighs, knowing she was right. clicking off her phone, she grabs her pink cup filled with ice water to sip as she scans the class, watching it slowly clutter with students for the upcoming lecture. her eyes abruptly lock onto the man who made his presence known from afar. 

"ooh, girl. what the fuck," alani suddenly begins to choke, her hand covering her mouth as she coughs aggressively. vice shoots up in a panic, confused and patting her back with worry.

"bitch, are you okay?" vice's eyes widen, alani nodding her head and breathing heavily. 

"do you see that man?" she emphasized, finally catching her breath after she drinks her water, discreetly motioning towards a man sitting on the other side of the class near the front. vice wants to smack her for being so dramatic, eyeing her like she's a hardheaded child before adverting her eyes in the same direction. 

this man she spoke of finally caught her eye. an immediate attraction rushed through her as quickly as it left, and her stomach did a little flip. compulsive eyes that dwindled a fragile obsidian tone. flawless long black hair that nearly past his elbows, drifting along his brawny jaw and rested on the back of his black crewneck tee that accentuated his muscles. his mane was partially tied up in a manbun on the back of his head, nearly covering the gauges within his ears. lips distinctive, yet captivating, duplicity hiding within them. and now, they were arrogantly raised in an amused smirk, towards her, feeling her glance. 

"i wanna do bad things to that man," alani speaks in an almost feral manner, both women staring with somewhat opposite emotions. vice is disinterested, immediately going back to doodling artwork in her notebook. 

“yea, he’s cool. i'd sit on his face." 

"i second this quote! adding that to my roster!"

as vice laughs at her response, class begins. she wasn't necessarily looking forward to the debate they were going to have today. the previous day before was pretty heated on the topic of genocide and ethnic cleansing. she catches a mere glance at what the professor writes with chalk on the viridescent board. her pencil sat absentmindedly between her plump lips, eyes drawling back to the man once again, shoulders broad as he relaxed himself against the seat. when the teacher ended up calling her name, she hadn’t even realized. he really was . . . nice to look at. 

"miss persephome," the teacher repeated encouragingly, eyes now posted upon her skin as her slumped position peaked up, "yes?"

"the discussion, need i remind you since you seem so interested. is love a realism or is it underlined with sexual desires?" she began, causing the noiseless class to gently snicker as she continues, “i'd like for you to elucidate your debate on it."

she raised her eyebrows. allowing her pen to fall from her lips and in between her fingers, she replied, "elucidate? uh . . . sure.”

she begins, “it's simple, love. we fall in love by personality, physicality. the flutter of their eyelashes, to the smile upon their cheeks. i would say that it's possible to love someone without physical contact, because if you really love someone, sex is only a desire, rather than a necessity. you fall in love by their soul, not by the forefront distraction of their body.” 

a low and sarcastic chuckle was what caught vice's attention. her eyes turn directly towards where the sound echoed from, and oh, it was that fine ass of a stranger. the teacher was now captivated by the circumlocutory silence sitting on the right hand side of the room, seeing as he now teetered a ring in his slender fingers so casually. 

"getou, you seem amused. is there anything you'd like to add?" the professor asked. 

getou. that’s his name, she thinks. why does she care? 

vice softly frowns at him, watching as he says nothing. he looked at the teacher, lightly shook his head, and made no effort to verbally disagree. this bothered her.

"you laughed for a reason. this is a seminar. say what you gotta say," vice stares at him with impatience. his eyes lock into her's, intently boring into her cranium. the little flip in her stomach returned without her permission.

"i just think it's bullshit," he shrugs. 

"uh, alright. i understand y'all are adults. but let's exclude the profanity—"

"bullshit how?" vice interrupts, raising her brow in a threatening manner. 

"do you really think that love overshadows sexual desires? are you a child?" getou charges back. 

"um, no. i never said that. do you think that love is not a realistic thing? are you in high school?" 

"i don't have to fuck you to be in love with you. granted, any person could overshadow being in love with me by the way i fuck them." 

"oh, for real?” alani instigated, shifting her eyes back and forth. she's intrigued by their banter. 

"just based on that observation, i wouldn't fuck you,” vice snarls. 

"i doubt that." 

the professor cuts them off. "okay! that's enough, and wildly inappropriate. we'll pick this up another time. everyone may write their opinions on paper,” she concludes. 

"oooh, i love him already," alani bites the tip of her nail, a wide grin as she twinkles her fingers in his direction. 

"i can’t stand his ass already,” vice disagrees.

she stands from her seat along with everyone else in the classroom preparing to exit out the door, feeling slightly embarrassed for causing class to dismiss early, but not embarrassed enough to apologize. 

“girl, you’ll be alright. let’s go before i miss my opportunity to get them digits!” alani schemes, pulling vice by her backpack who still glares at him. the way he now politely stands to the professor and begins talking to her, it’s as if they didn’t just have that back and forth. it pissed her off even more. 

“ugh, he a scholar or something?” alani speaks impatiently, seeing as he continues to talk to the professor, both her and vice now standing outside of the classroom. 

vice pulls her phone from her pocket as it buzzes, glancing back up to her friend as she speaks, “the promo team for homecoming is looking for me. do i have to stay with you while you shoot your shot?” 

“you don’t wanna see me win? maybe you really are jealous,” alani never knows when to stop playing as she teases, vice becoming visibly more irritated. 

she starts, “girl—"

her voice goes into a stifled shout as she feels a bump within her shoulder. her eyes meet with those same dark eyes that glance back at her, that same shit-eating-fucker smirk appearing along his face as he continues walking. that sets her off. she flies forward, winding up her fist as she then feels alani quickly pull her back, sighing dreamily as she speaks, “yeah, that’s my baby daddy. cheer up, would you?”

yeah, okay. 

୨♡୧

vice stands back as she tilts her head, staring over the various amount of colors that spread along the brick wall, trying to figure out which of them compliment each other more. brent faiyaz soothes into her mind from her earbuds, the lazy pony tail she created swinging as she turns her head from the end of the wall to the beginning. 

the art department had requested for her to help decorate their seasonal wall, her artistic skills one fortunate fact about her that surpassed around the campus. it made her feel confident, but that confidence immensely disheveled if that relevancy pertained to her as a person. 

this was her safe haven, a place for her to crawl into her fantasies and never have to come out. the tips of her fingers were similar to a rainbow, sprouting in different splotches of paint. but she didn’t care. this made her happy. 

as she raised herself on her toes and added another swirl to the burgundy brick, her fantasies poofed into thin air as she felt her earbud be snatched from her head, eyes shooting daggers as her best friend now stood in front of her as she grinned, “busy?”

“expeditiously.”

“spell it, dummy.”

“A-L-A-N-I, dummy?” she refers to her as.

“whatever, you done being mad? i got tea to spill.”

“i was never mad at you,” vice clarifies, “what’s up?” 

“i got the tea on my new little project,” alani smiles, shaking the pom-pom’s in her hand, vice taking full notice of the cheer uniform she wears, figuring she’ll be going to practice soon.

“your dumbass lil’ project? yeah, not interested. can i go back to listening to brent now?” she reaches for her her earbuds, alani shaking her finger as she pulls back farther, “you’re gonna listen to me!”

vice replies, “yes, alani. i’m listening?” chuckling slightly.

“word on the street, he’s a hoe,” she starts.

vice raises her eyebrows, “a hoe ass hoe?”

“a dog ass hoe,” she clarifies, “scratching and barking, girl. been going to school here but did his classes online before coming on campus. the bitches knew him before he even stepped foot on the grass! well, not the grass, disrespectful to the ancestors. but you get my point,” she speaks. 

“i'm becoming bored,” vice sarcastically smiles.

alani’s smile drops, “you’re so fucking annoying sometimes. anyways, he’s an only child, doesn’t do relationships—commitment issues, perhaps?— probably has mommy issues, too.”

“hmm, great. so every other man on this damn campus. this is the only information you gathered in less than four hours? i thought better of you,” vice shakes her head. 

“since when are you so interested in him?” alani raises her eyebrow.

“you wish i actually was. i’m just saying, you’ was acting like you had piping hot tea. that was sugar water. and he seems pretty…on-paper to me,” she shrugs.

alani sighs, twirling her hair in her finger as she says, “you can at least admit . . .the bitch is bad!” 

vice laughs, “he in fact is. but i don’t care.”

“oh god. get over yourself, persephome. we get it. you got your heartbroken and you haven’t been the same since, you like older men, you wanna find true love and all that. is that why you got so mad in class?” alani prods. 

vice’s amusement drops. alani knows her best friend all too well, even if that meant pushing her buttons to get the truth out. vice rubs her hand over her face as she sits it under her chin, holding her arm by the other as she mutters, “alani, get the fuck away from me unless you want two broken legs before practice.”

“ooh! i hit a nerve,” she points out, “whatever. you so damn pissy! you need to do some prayer or something, have a dick shoved so far in you that it wipes away all that attitude,” she raises her middle finger, swinging her body around as she makes her way back down the hallway as she calls, “deuces! i’m heading to practice.”

vice watches as her best friend playfully sways her hips, shaking her pom-pom’s as she sings down the hall in a cheer-chant, “vice needs some dick! vice needs some dick!” 

she shakes her head, unable to help but chuckle at alani’s chaos, knowing that she loved her deeply anyways. 

it was now near six in the afternoon and vice’s fingers were stained with paint as she carried her supplies towards her car, stomach growling from the lack of food she’d eaten today. she forgot her grandmother had expected her company by now, also preparing to cook up a good meal. she always kept vice fed no matter how big she’d get. the thought of stuffing her mouth with curry goat and white rice nearly made her trip. removing her keys from her black telfar, she unlocks the passenger door to her all white 370z nismo to settle her supplies in. it was the love of her life after her art—customized to her preference with silver hearts carved into the rims, matching exhaust pipes and a black carbon fiber wing spoiler. 

vice took advantage of her family’s inheritance and splurged on her dream vehicle before she entered college, a gift to herself. maintaining a 4.0 gpa on top of balancing her title as class president for three years straight should be honored with a present, wanting her first couple of years in college to be more lax than anything. exhausted from the long day she’s had, she buckled herself into the drivers seat and inserts the key into the ignition, hand gripping the cherry blossom stick shift before hearing the one thing she dreaded to hear right now out of all times. her car wouldn’t start, that god awful scratching with dying wind sound ruining her day further. 

“fucking hell. why?” vice whines, wanting to bang her fists on the steering wheel in anger. knocking her head back, she blows a raspberry before aggressively swinging the door open, reaching underneath the wheel to pop the hood of the car.  

irritatedly climbing out, she circled to the front of her current tragedy, lifting the hood and hooking open the lever to inspect the issue. she’s not exactly sure why it’s acting up right now. she just had it looked at a few weeks ago. 

“damn, that’s all yours?” 

a voice had spoken nearby, vice wanting to crawl into a fetal position and scream once she recognized it. barely having a full conversation with this man, yet she memorized his voice. she slumps her head before darting her eyes towards getou. she has no chance to reply as he then says, “lemme see.” 

then, he’s standing next to her, tall and brooding as he leans over the engine to catch a quick glance. vice feels the way her heart raced at the close proximity. relax. 

“holy fuck, you have a z06 engine! that shits like fifteen grand.” 

“you’re a little too close,” vice deadpans, almost hurting her back from how hard she tried to lean away from him while still, in a dumb way, protecting her car with her hand holding it. as if he could steal it. 

“relax, i’m trying to help,” getou scoffs, ignoring her burning stare. irregardless, the combination of smaller frame, soft eyes and full lips are hard to ignore. 

“your battery died from running it too long,” he states. 

“i knew that. i have a brother that knows about cars,” she tries to brush him off, rolling her eyes as she wants to shove him out the way. 

“you gotta lot of attitude stored in that pretty face of yours, huh?” 

"do you not remember what happened in the seminar earlier?" 

getou thinks back, kind of forgetting. oh, yeah. that.

 “do you really think it was deep enough to have this underlying hatred towards me? you don't even know me." 

again, he’s bothering her further. 

“oh, i do know you. all i have to do is open my ear to the girls bathroom and i'll hear everything i need to know about you." 

"you shouldn't believe everything you hear,” he finalizes sternly, licking his lips before he’s motioning his hand to shoo her away. if he was actually willing to help, she’d accept it if that meant he’d get out of her face. 

“do me a favor, rev the engine while i tweak this shit,” he keeps his focus downward. 

“it's wrong?" she steps aside to allow him full access, doing as he says and sitting halfway inside so she could still hear him over the noise. her foot applying on and off pressure to the brake as she turns the key. 

getou’s jaw clenches as he chews on his gum, lowering his head to inspect deeper. he then slightly tilts around the hood as he replies, “no. you just shouldn't believe everything you hear."  

“your reputation sums up your opinion in class earlier a lot better now. you know, how you think sex overshadows love. that’s all you’re used to.” 

after moments of him solely focusing on her car rather than her, he then raised an eyebrow, almost amused at the girl's probing. 

“so that’s how you feel, huh? that you can confide in a person without the conceptualization of sex?” 

“call me a romantic, poetic even. if you think that's lame, i don't care,” she shrugs. 

“nah, it's cute. i just disagree with you,” getou inquired, trying to keep the conversation unceremonious as possible.

now vice is getting fed up, releasing the break altogether. “so what’s your fucking take then?”

“you chose love because you believe in fairy tales and happy endings. you said that sex is more of a desire than a necessity. but, how can love be established without the need for sex? sex is raw, pure . . .a bond that creates when people in love interlace, its a string that’s hard to ignore. the infatuation for that person you love ignites your soul. you can love a person for their personality, for the way that they laugh or make a funny noise when upset. that’s whatever. but you can’t fall in love with someone without fucking them. no matter what you say, sex is a staple necessity in a relationship. in my case, i’m too fucking hypersexual to be with someone who isn’t as sexual as i am. who doesn’t crave for that burn of desire. that need to feel you drag your nails down my back, my lips against your skin, your voice in my ear . . .small, broken and begging. you know how much a person loves their significant other based off of that continuous desire.” 

and like the introvert he was, he simply went back to his calm yet vexed expression, awaiting for her response. in the midst of it all, getou had managed to start her car, vice unaware of what magic stunt he used to activate the battery. apparently, rubbing his palms together to create heat and electrifying her battery did the trick. still stunned by his answer, as he can tell, she swallows, watching as he wipes his dirty palms on the denim of his jeans. 

“thank you,” she clears her throat, managing to be gracious of his help. the least she can do. getou nods, unhooking the latch for the hood before slamming it shut. 

“i’m just confused,” getou starts up again, jaw still shifting from the now old gum lodged between his pretty teeth. 

vice stares at him with curiosity, wondering what monstrosity is going to come out of his mouth now. “about?” 

he bites his cheek to kill the smile wanting to breach against his face. “so sitting on my face, does that go with your little bullshit morality?” 

like clockwork, vice finds herself in that same puddle of irritation she felt from the first interaction with him. frowning, she fully sits inside of her car, slamming the door shut, ignoring the sudden smirk arising on his face. her car is running without a problem, catching a look at him through the window to see him pull his pen from his front pocket to take a few puffs, the eye contact from the two of them intense. hidden with a smidge of unexpected attraction, even. vice rolls her eyes, shifting her stick and purposely swerving her vehicle around him in a swift donut, nearly hitting his ass, getou still so enamored by the girl named vice. 

he sighs, extremely worn out, in dire need of a steamy hot shower and a greasy pizza while laying in the comfort of, finally, his own apartment he worked entirely too hard to gain. the commute to his place in brooklyn, new york became rather annoying due to rush hour traffic at this time. having to take the bus then switch to the 'n' train, hopping off and walking fifteen minutes until he finally reaches his destination. his second goal was to afford a vehicle to save him money instead of wasting it on expensive monthly metro cards.

aki's lived here his entire life, growing up in the bronx, not much different. he loved new york, but not their uppity expenses. the fact that he's paying nearly two grand for a 600 square-foot apartment with no in-unit laundry nor a gym at that, was nonsensical. did he want to reside here forever? yes. he'd feel homesick if he ever were to leave. having the opportunity to travel seemed like a much better alternative, that way he'd still have his home but be anywhere in the world doing what he loved, and that was cooking. aki hayakawa was twenty-six years old, earning his master's in culinary arts at the culinary institute of america, also known as the C.I.A.

his ultimate dream was to open his restaurant, which he would name after his tragically deceased mother. a terrible accident in which he dreads the memory of. falling endlessly into a black hole, hearing nothing but the sound of his own fear, the breaking of his bones when it interacted with brick interior, the feeling of his heart thumping excessively against his chest as he continued to drop deeper like a rock that was chucked down an empty well. this emotion he knew all too well; failure. when he lost his mother, it felt as if the world crumbled beneath him, malicious dark vines slithering up to grab him by his ankles and pull him down a bottomless pit of nothingness.

he tasted the agony, the anger, the sadness, and even the hate from the fact that she was gone and never coming back. countless tantrums, anxiety attacks, and depression summed up the apathy of it all. it took him six years to realize that drowning in pain would never help him gain the strength that he knew she wanted him to have. by letting her witness the pain he was going through from above, he was hurting not only her . . but himself. so to overcome the tragedy, he kept himself busy with cooking. going to school, earning his degree, and the current job he had with his best friend since middle school.

school was probably the greatest thing he'd ever done to reinvent who he was as a person. cooking is a delicate yet challenging obstacle to undertake, yet, it's so therapeutic to him. the nature of it all, being able to witness what he can do for many people, bring laughter and happiness—it's a beautiful thing. when aki was small, he and his mother would give back to people all the time. whether they were donating clothes to the homeless, or feeding small pigeons pieces of bread on a sunny day as they flew to the gray pavement, awaiting a feast. they always cared about others. they would experiment a lot, going to food markets just to come home and whip up a good meal which they would then donate to the less fortunate. that's when he learned how humble he felt to give back to those in need.

he wanted to show his mother his achievements, to push himself and become a world-renowned chef, just like gordon ramsey—without the aggression. he wanted his name plastered on articles for his extraordinary talent, talked about on tv, in fact, given his own cooking show on foodnetwork. aki grew up watching that channel, an obsessive enticement his mother could never break the young boy from. he was making recipes at the age of twelve, and learned how to cook at eight. eggs were the first thing, usually everyone's first, then as time progressed, he grew from simple pasta dishes to revitalizing gourmet meats, and anything french. just recently he schooled himself on how to create wine. every day he learned something new, and that was the beauty of culinary.

"hayakawa! come here!" star yells as soon as she sees the tall man emerge through the front door, ready to start his morning shift, raspy voice laced with slight panic, instantly making the man run to her out of worry.

"what's wrong?" he furrows his brows.

"look who just fucking walked in," she grabs his bicep, pulling him closer to the front counter. aki curiously follows where her finger points, seeing a slim man with black curly hair dressed properly in a white and black suit. silver and sapphire rolex on his wrist, his pale green eyes scanning through the lens of his glasses at the menu while he sips his water. expensive.

"i have no idea who that is," aki blinks, making star gasp.

"he's alexander bodari, one of my favorite authors of all time. remember the novel i told you i was reading, about this girl who was kept in this lunatics basement and almost murdered?"

aki's eyebrows raise. "the book dylan bought you for your birthday, right?"

"yeah! that's him. oh my fucking god, i'm so nervous, whew," star begins to fan herself, nearly having a breakdown. aki grabs her shoulder and chuckles.

"chill out, star. you don't have to serve him if you don't want to."

"of course i do! i just. . . can't," she frowns.

"you can, you've done it many times before. this isn't the first celebrity we've come across."

star sighs, nodding. "you're right, i can do it."

"good girl," aki smiles, patting the top of her head. star catches his wrist and scowls.

"fuck off."

"aki," another voice calls to him, this time it's the head chef, also known as his boss. aki greets him with a small, 'good morning, chef' before waiting for his response.

"i'm guessing you know that alexander bodari is here," lane says, arms crossed over his broad chest. aki nods. "i want you to cook for him."

aki and star share a glance of shock.

"uh, why me. where's dylan?"

"he's not feeling well so i gave him the day off. you're the only one here that's near his level, and he's a higher-up man, so i want you to cook for him. star will cater to his needs. we're kinda short-staffed today, and i trust you two will handle it properly."

"yes, chef," they say in unison.

star was only a waiter, working here for four years while aki earned his position two years into her time. the last thing the woman could do was cook, ironic since she worked in a restaurant with very talented people. lane would've asked her in a heartbeat if she was as skilled as aki. aki was known for making dishes at the top of his head, so if anyone asked for a special, he was the one to ask. before they began to serve anyone inside, aki gave star a small prep talk before sending her out. eventually, she got through with taking his order without stuttering or sweating. when she walked back into the kitchen, actually shoved the doors open with a joker smile on her face, aki cocks his head at her.

"you—"

"he wants your special!" she screams, doing a goofy dance, and skipping in her spot.

aki's face drops. "are you deadass?"

"yes! when he was looking at the menu, he saw your four courses on the back and chose your mom's stew! fucking a, man!"

aki is still frozen, weakly giving star their signature handshake, smile slowly easing onto his face. "my mom's stew? seriously?"

"yeah. chop chop, get to it."

aki was persistent. no one's ever ordered his mother's stew, which made this day very special for him. even if the dish was only on the menu for a month, it still meant a lot to him. he made sure there were no distractions, taking a tender chuck roast and cutting them into cubes, seasoning them well while throwing in worcester sauce, balsamic vinegar, garlic cloves, bay leaves, and beef broth. making a slurry with flour and water to thicken the stew. adding onions and potatoes. it was a simple yet fulfilling dish he looked forward to every sunday.

"deep breaths," star whispered as she carried the steaming tray of stew plated professionally on a porcelain oval-shaped bowl. in a way, it felt like she was telling not only herself but him. it's a rarity that people order his courses, and serving this to an author, a bestseller, a man worth millions, made him giddy. he was cheesing like an idiot, pushing star out the double doors to the dining area.

although as soon as she walked out, that's when doubt clouded his gut. did he put too many seasonings? is the meat tender enough? what if he doesn't like it? will he write about it on his author blog? god, he hoped the potatoes weren't hard. he had only tasted the broth, it tasted just like his mother's. what if. . .

"aki," star walks back in, an even wider grin on her a-symmetrical face this time. he blinks, realizing that he's been standing here for three minutes now. "he wants to see the chef."

he's dumbfounded. "me?"

"no, lane. yes, you!" she's squealing like a girl, and sometimes he forgets she is one, even underneath her blunt features and boyish sense of style.

he's clearing his throat now, strolling mindlessly towards alexander bodari's table, greeting himself and waiting for his constructive criticism.

"you're aki hayakawa?" the man questioned, lifting his glasses back onto his face.

"yes, sir."

"i just have to say," alexander chuckles, softly clapping his hands. "this may be one of the best stews i've ever had."

the tenseness in aki's shoulders relaxes, and he's sighing with relief, alexander noticing and laughing. "i'm really glad to hear that, sir."

"did you create this on your own?"

"it's actually my mother's recipe. it's my favorite. every time i make it, it reminds me of her."

"that's really ironic because this reminds me of the stew my mother used to make," he grins. "yours is the first that i haven't seen carrots in."

aki laughs. "my mom hated cooked carrots."

"mine did too," he fixes his collar. "is this your restaurant?"

"no, no. i'm just a cook here. i plan on opening my own soon. i already have my master's."

his brows raise. "wow, that's amazing. wow old are you?"

"twenty-six, sir."

"well, you're definitely going places," he compliments and aki feels even more satisfied. "say what, i'm having this pre-book release, about a hundred guests. i was wondering if you would like to cater the party. i'll pay you however much you want."

it's like the whole world collapsed on his chest. he'd never gotten an opportunity like this, especially this big. to cook for so many famous people at once was a blessing. he could really show off his skills if he took this offer . . . and did. after thanking him, exchanging contacts, and then handshakes, aki lets the man finish his meal before jogging back into the kitchen to scream about it to aki, lane, and the rest of the crew. alexander offered star to come along to serve, but unfortunately she couldn't, seeming as she'd be out of town for family matters that day.

alexander, of course, knowing she was a big fan signed a copy of his book she already had in her bag and letting her know she could help the next time he had an event. that made her happy enough. the two of them couldn't wait to finish their shifts today, taking the train to star's place and planning dishes all night, even cooking them to get them just right. alexander was hosting the party at his penthouse down soho. and aki had a week to prepare himself.

୨♡୧

cashmere sweaters, silk gowns, and jewelry that most likely cost more than his savings account roamed the lovely terrace of alexander bodari's home. every inch of it screamed filthy rich. rows of tables were set outside, the dark night sky making the moon shun brightly amongst the glass centerpieces filled with calla lilies and moss. white cloths, sterling silverware, and porcelain dinnerware. the terrace itself was elegant; freshly cut bushes trimmed as squares, a marble three-tiered italian water fountain placed in the middle. roses, dandelions, tall plants ranging from bamboo, snake plants, and pothos. alexander was very in touch with nature and his spirit. it's crazy he writes about the things he does.

speaking of, the book he was presenting that would be released in august was titled, 'to riven a magnolia.' he wouldn't quite reveal what it was about yet, wanting it to be a surprise, but did read an excerpt from the novel. aki only paid half attention, big words throwing him off plus he wanted to set the food table properly so guests could take what they wanted after his reading. aki didn't go all out since only seventy-two people were available to make it, and he didn't want any meals that would make anyone too full to converse, so he kept it simple yet exquisite. each guest received a slice of japanese fluffy cheesecake with a side of strawberry and mandarin orange tanghulu. beef wellington, and a six-sided cream garlic bread.

he received praise all night long. people gasping and thanking him for the food, giving him all sorts of compliments making the man blush like a child. at one point he held both sides of his face in his palms when a woman and her husband approached him to talk, way too shy, and the woman flirting with him didn't make it go away. eventually, her husband dragged her out of his sight. the night went on, classical music played as people sipped their champagne and talked about their wealth, their yoga classes, their thousand dollar dogs, golf, marketing . . . aki hopes he never becomes this way.

as he's pouring an elderly lady a glass as she rambles about baking, he notices a woman he's barely seen all night. he's disoriented, eyeing this girl leaning up against a vintage roman painting reaching the ceiling once the lady departs. brown eyes; the first captivating part of her body he captured. they appeared lonely, bored perhaps as they scanned through the crowd of people, soon landing on another pair, his own. the godly woman stared at him longingly. aki had no business nearly losing his shit under her gaze. wow. she was truly stunning.

one feature that stood out the most were the freckles scattered from the bridge of her nose to the swell of her cheekbones. pretty. her black hair styled protectively in butterfly locs that grazed her collarbones, seeing the industrial piercing hiding behind a piece. her lashes were long, naturally extended. heart-shaped lips were full and pouty, the upper lip brown while the lower, salmon pigmented. an emerald satin mini dress loosely clung to her alluring brown skin. cowl neckline, ruched waist, and an open back partially revealing the red dragon tattoo painted on the side of her hip. black suede gucci heels strapped prettily around her ankles, showcasing her white painted toenails. a three layered gold necklace on her chest. this woman, you, were the rationale of celestial.

it was the moment you smiled at him, tilting your head slightly to the side while tapping your ombré acrylic nail amongst the glass of your champagne, calling to him while he thoughtlessly followed, that aki would realize he had made one of the worst mistakes in his life.

"you're pretty."

it's the first thing you say when he walks towards you, offering a piece of cheesecake with a cheeky smile. aki is taken aback, chuckling nervously, palms already clammy the minute he approached you.

"pretty?" he's perplexed.

"that's what i said," you say, taking the gold fork from his palm and cutting a slice to taste, widening your mouth while maintaining eye contact. the man swallows.

"uh, i've never gotten that before. thank you."

you're too busy eyeing him to say a thing. even if he dressed in simple black skinny jeans and same color tee, a silver necklace tucked beneath his shirt, sable combat boots, and a white apron around his waist . . he looked damn good. his eyes were blue, somewhat smoke gray, dark hair long and straight, the top half tucked into a small messy bun on the back of his head. a few loose strands swaying around his cheekbones. he was tall, shoulders broad, forearms and hands slightly veiny. you gazed at his hands holding the plate for you, wide and rough, fingers long.

"you don't seem to be enjoying the party," he says, knocking you out of your daydream.

you hum with displeasure. "he's a fake."

aki furrows his brows. "sorry?"

"alex, he's unoriginal. most of his novels are stolen by people he pays to keep quiet," you side-eye him while downing the last drop of your champagne, slowly licking your lips. his eyes flicker there for a split moment.

"how do you know?"

the question makes you quiet, tapping your glass. "think of it like this; everyone starts off as a cocoon. eventually as time goes by, we evolve into butterflies. the cocoon represents our innocence; the purity and unawareness of what's to come in life. once we sprout into butterflies, we become tarnished, facing the real world and learning to adapt to its cruelty. life can be beautiful, but it's always painful no matter how happy or dismal we are. it's our choice to fly in the direction we want for ourselves even when the harshness of life beats us down. butterflies only live for so long. we disintegrate after inhumane amounts of stress, loneliness, or tragic events that take a toll on us, removing the power of staying beautiful. we show beauty to the public but don't feel it when everything around us is falling apart. but we can't make life harder on ourselves by dwelling on what we can't have rather than pushing for what we can have."

aki is speechless, half-understanding what you meant. "are you saying alexander is a butterfly that can't fly?"

"he's more like a mosquito, latching onto those who want to sprout into a butterfly but sucks the nutrients from them for his pleasure. he's a fraud. he'll never be a butterfly because he simply can't."

"did he steal from you? is that why you resent him?"

"no," you bluntly state, although aki doesn't believe you.

he takes the fork from you, cutting you another slice before holding it towards your lips, waiting for you to bite. you looked like you needed it. the drowsiness in your eyes may have indicated that you were tipsy. you giggle, shaking your head before he feeds you, your big eyes captivating him more. "is there something you want?"

"you."

aki nearly chokes and he's not even the one eating, your bluntness throwing him in a spiral of emotions.

"am i beautiful to you?" you lean closer, aki swallowing, scanning his surroundings. most of everyone remained in the living area, the two of you far behind a wall near the glass door of the terrace. he could smell your scent better, a sweet smell of caramel. soft skin shimmering with glitter.

"very."

"so what's stopping you? you got a girlfriend or somethin'?"

"n-no, it's just. i barely know you."

"that's part of the thrill," he watches as your small wrist turns and your palm is flat outward. "come upstairs with me."

like any man would, his feet walked on their own, stupidly following behind you up the black marble staircase, hand in yours as his eyes watched your hips switch.

"what's your name?" that should've been the first thing you asked, idiot.

"[♡]."

"i'm aki."

"i know who you are."

that's right, alexander introduced him to everyone after his reading right before supper. things felt like they went too quickly. aki didn't know who he was at this moment, completely floating out of his body and letting you take over like a spell. he was entranced. one thing leads to another, you're locking the door to one of the four bedrooms here. aki's sitting on the bed while you walk around, talking to him more about anything. his age, his aspirations in life. nonsense, basically. until he notices something.

a room with an open bay window revealing the late-night city of new york, stars in the sky, skyscrapers high. the breeze is warm, the air making the fabric of your dress rise just enough for him to catch a glimpse of the pink thong you wore. he's gulping, your legs shifting and a grin coming on your face as you see the tint of red blush across his cheeks. you're leaned against the window, toes pressing into your other foot, a gold anklet with the first letter of your name clasped on your skin. your shoes were off, and in between your two fingers sat a blunt, maybe about three inches now since you were too busy talking, letting it burn away.

once you flick it out the window, you fully turn to face him, sharp nails skidding up your thighs teasingly slow until the hem of your dress rises fully, and he's staring at the belly button piercing you have. your thick thighs, your curves, and your nipple when you moan and lift your arms to stretch and one of the straps falls down your shoulders.

"oops," you're pouting, and aki's had enough. he got it now. he understood why you wanted him to come up here. the liquor buzzing in your veins, and going straight to your clit like a drug. you wanted him the moment you saw him. you needed him, for more reasons than one.

aki was always one to put a woman's pleasure before his own. so when he saw you drop to your knees to crawl towards him, dainty hands trailing up his clothed thighs until you're undoing his belt and he's biting his lip. . . he was drawn in further. pulling him out of the confinement of his jeans, holding his pulsating dick in your hand, darting your tongue out, and pressing it flat to the aching head. he's squeezing his eyes shut when he's deep in your throat after a while, moaning around him and twisting your hand along as your mouth glides. his hand is in your hair, gathering some of it in his large fist while leaning back a bit to see those gorgeous eyes of yours stare into his, slightly watery. he liked that. he liked you.

"nnn, baby. like that," he's throwing his head back, jaw slacked as he tried to keep his voice down, not daring to let too much slip out regarding the guests below them. eyes back on you, he's watching as your hips gyrate in the air, desperately needing to be touched.

it's so foreign, this level of intimacy. it's been so long since he's had his dick buried deep in anything. sure, he masturbates like any other human being, but it's a rarity. he's so consumed in work that by the time he goes home he's knocked out in slumber, not even thinking about grabbing his fleshlight to fulfill his pleasure. the last time he had sex was at the beginning of his freshman year of college. it was some girl in his cutlery class who invited him over for late-night drinks, leading to more than just that. it was frequent until he realized he was failing courses because of the distraction and had to get back on track, so, he called it quits.

now he's pulling you up, feverishly pressing his lips to yours in a messy kiss, lips smacking, tongues bumping. you're keening when his thick fingers clasp around your throat as you straddle his waist, clinging to his shirt you eventually pull over his head. it's as if the both of you forgot that people were here and might hear you, but neither of you cared. aki's not even scolding you when you're moaning too loud the second he has you beneath him, your clothing still on, barely, and his jeans and briefs clinging to his ankles, your knees to your chest as his hot mouth latches around your puffy clit, back arching off the plush mattress.

the metal from his pierced tongue rushing against you as he holds the back of one of your thighs to keep them up, grunting and swallowing your arousal. you're whining so much it has his dick twitching, pulling on his hair not helping either. you're rocking your hips with urgency, legs twitching after he lifts his head to spit, collecting his saliva with two fingers before curling them into you, holding your stomach down while he shakes his fingers. that alone has you convulsing around him, tears in your eyes as you whimper his name and squirm helplessly, his lips kissing your inner thighs.

coming down from your high, aki's already propping himself behind you, turning you on your side while he laid on his, leveraging your head with his forearm underneath your neck, fingers in your mouth you suck while glaring at him. he curses, monotoned voice rasping, "don't do that."

"do what?" you hum, wrapping your lips around them again and moaning.

aki clenches his jaw, lifting your right leg to open you up before slipping inside, hearing you gasp as you adjust to the stretch. both of you groan in unison, turning your face to the side to kiss him while your nails clawed at his hip, then his ass as he rolls into you, too horny to be gentle and snapping his hips hard against your ass, grunting, "i heard you, girl," and drilling faster. your eyes scroll to the back of your head, aki swallowing the breath out of you as he sucks on your bottom lip and chokes you, the two of you whining in each other's mouth, muffling the noise although the skin interaction didn't cease.

he's brutal, a different person when in this form of bond. dropping your leg and reaching between to rub at your clit, heavy breaths on your neck as he hides his face there. you can easily smell the citrus scent of his shampoo, his scent overall a main attraction when he stepped toward you. . . like lavender. when he's nearing his climax, he gropes your chest, slurring, "be a good girl and cum all over me, baby. can i feel it this time?" and you nod, doing just as he says, his taunts and praises making your gut swim with butterflies.

you try not to scream as he licks and bites your neck sloppily, dazed. instead, you grab a pillow nearby and stuff part of it in your mouth, aki's face hovering over you as tears leak from your eyes and you cum hard, harder than you ever had. aki holds you close by your waist, taking a few more pumps before he furrows his brows and slowly pulls out, cumming on your flush skin with a hiss. by this time, his hair had fallen down his face completely, and even in your fucked out state, you reach up to rake through it with a lazy smile. aki chuckles, kissing your forehead before building the strength to find a cloth to clean you up. luckily, there's an en-suite bathroom, giving him access to warm water and toiletries.

fixing his posture in the mirror, he's rubbing his face and adjusting his clothes to appear as he did when he arrived; neat and professional. although what he just did wasn't so classy of him. he fucked some woman he barely knew at a millionaires home. work, he was working. not here for personal pleasure. he wanted to slap himself for being so easily enraptured. no one had to know about it. he only hoped not a soul downstairs heard what went on.

he's good to go, done scolding himself and turning off the bathroom light before stepping out. he finds you perched up, sipping a miniature bottle of crown royal you found in the bedside mini-fridge, sniffling your nose and blankly staring out the window. aki comes forward, gently grasping your thigh and gliding the wet cloth over your skin, the silence awkward.

"dandelions.”

aki's eyes slowly drift to your face, staring in confusion. "what?"

he notices how eerily slow tears built up in your eyes, gripping the bottle harder before exhaling. "dandelions," now you're finally looking at him, the coldness on your face making him anxious. "that's where his body is."

your voice is like vanilla. it's one thing about you that he grew infatuated with. it's one of the many reasons he was captured by you, brought to where he was now. standing at the bedside as he watched tears pool down your broken face. body? what body?  he grew cold, nervously eyeing you as you sniffled, standing to fix your hair, dress, and walking around the bed to slip back into your heels.

“wait," he goes to grab your arm when you try to walk out the door. "what the fuck are you talking about?"

the deadness in your eyes scares him even more, and he's panicking when you say, "alex."

“alexander?!" he shouts, dragging you away from the exit, hands on either side of your shoulders as he eyes you, his own wide. heart pumping drastically. "what did you do? where is he?"

"by the dandelions on the terrace," blunt, again. as if you aren't phased at all by his reaction. "follow me."

he's stunned, unable to fully process what you were telling him. he already assumed the worst when the term 'body' came to light. though his heart raced heavily in his chest, his feet blindly dragged in your direction. cautiously watching your every move in case he had to protect himself. fuck, he didn't have any weapon. then again, he's sure he could easily handle you, knock you out if he needed to. lock you in a closet and alert the hundreds of guest just below their feet. that's right, there are still people here. and if you mentioned alexander, how the fuck and when the fuck did you have the time to . . . kill him? 

"[♡]," he began to speak your name, but your head was in the clouds, ignoring anything that came out of his mouth as you cut into a passageway that led to a grand master bedroom, then facing the terrace you spoke of. he was nervous, your neck turning to eye him as you step onto the gravel, blankly staring down at something. he couldn't see from where he stood, matter of fact, he didn't want to see.

"he's here," you say. "he's here."

aki has no choice but to advance forward, wanting to squeeze his eyes shut from the upcoming scare of a human’s body. and not just any human, the alexander bodari. a flaccid arm sticks out from beside a bush, palm facing the sky, details of a struggle bruised into his hand as the skin in the area seemed peeled. aki’s heart drops the closer he gets, hand covering his mouth as he stares down at the lifeless body laying in a pool of blood. the aluminum wire draped around his neck stained with blood gave aki the answer he needed when it came to the cause. you strangled him to death. the question remains; who are you and how were you affiliated with alexander? most importantly, why’d you kill him?

“i don’t understand,” is all he can get out.

“the proof is in his first novel,” you utter, and he’s still confused. “the story about the woman who’s trapped in the psychopaths basement? it was about me.”

aki couldn’t grasp the thought of you being the woman from the novel star always talked about. that you had been the victim of his story. that it was a real life phenomena. that he met you, slept with you, and now you want him to, what . . . cover up a murder in a house filled with two hundred guests?

“he painted this image as if he was the most prestigious man on the planet. he made money off of real events. events that played out by torturing me, and using me to get his ‘creative juices flowing.’ he needed a test subject. he was a sick man who deserved to die,” tears pour down your face, the anger in your tone thick and pent up from years of pain and sorrow. “he was my father’s partner. my father despised me simply because of my resemblance of my mother and my rebellion against him. when he died from heart failure, in his will, he married me to alex.”

“that’s fucking. . . sick. i didn’t think that was possible in this day and age.”

you scoff with agreement. “yeah. he watched me grow from a preteen to making me his wife. sick bastard for sure.”

aki wants to vomit from this information. still unable to wrap his head around any of it. his hands sit on his hips as he stares up at the sky and blows a raspberry, try to keep his nerves together. you watch him with sadness, and maybe regret. you weren’t intentionally planning for this to happen. though part of you wanted someone to save you. to see the real you and rescue you from this torment.

“i know this is probably the last thing you expected to happen. i apologize for dragging you into this. i just didn’t know what else to do. i felt hopeless. and i refused to let his popularity run by making another fortune of a sick novel.”

“did he attack you?” he asks.

“he didn’t,” you clarify. “i think i just finally snapped. granted, tonight of all nights wasn’t the correct setting.”

aki makes a face that reads ‘fucking clearly’ as he rubs both palms down his face. he doesn’t know whether to run and call you insane or feel sympathy for a victim. but, murder is murder. and now, standing here with you, that’d make him an accomplice. as scary as that was, he couldn’t risk his future career. but he was stuck in a pickle. he wanted to help you.

“there are clear signs of struggle, so we have to make it look like an accident,” aki suggests, but immediately, you shake your head in disagreement.

“they won’t believe that. he’s one of the wealthiest men in new york. it’ll be a huge investigation.”

“then the only answer would be to tell the truth,” he finalized.

“the . . truth?”

aki nods, pulling you toward him and stepping away from the body, chills still going up his spin and goosebumps on his arms. “listen to me, you can tell the world exactly who you are and what he’s done to you. you have proof. transactions, marriage certificate, i’m sure there’s documents for days in his computer that can prove what he’s put you through. there’s evidence somewhere.”

“and if i tell the world, who’s to say they’ll believe me?”

“i believe you,” aki says. your eyes fill with hope, and thankfulness. “people will have their opinions, but we know the truth. do you have anyone else that can be your alibi?”

you think long and hard, until it hits you. “the maid. she’s been working for him ever since i moved in after my father died. she’s fed me, helped me heal wounds . . even get rid of his unborn child i lost after too much stress.”

“jesus christ,” he bows his head in disbelief. “where is she now?”

“luckily, the kitchen. the woman with the braided red hair. she promised me she’d always protect me. after his book succeeded he became nicer to me, gave me a ‘real’ marriage. she was like his mother, always scolding him when he raised his voice at me or wouldn’t let me live my life. it’s all so depressing.”

“okay. it’s okay, you’re going to be okay,” aki comforts you as you begin to sob once again, cradling your head in his chest.

the night ends in the blink of an eye. aki takes you into another room and wraps a blanket around you as you sit on the edge of the bed and wait for the police. he finds the woman you spoke of, pulls her to the side and informs her of the tragedy above. she herself looks relieved. not at all shocked by what played out, as if she knew you’d go through with it. aki guesses he truly was a horrible man. and to think he would’ve worked for him in the future. the police arrive shortly after the woman goes to check on you, insuring that everything would be okay, and that she’d stick to the full story. the police instructs everyone the leave the premises, aki being questioned for a full hour, this home becoming a crime scene, and all of their faces full of black ink on the daily news the next morning.

aki will never forget the chilling smirk on your face as they removed alexander’s body from the terrace. it was . . haunting.

You were about to marry the love of your life in two days. That’s what you wanted, right? You dreamt of this day since you said yes to the big question. You imagined your life with him. Kids, if that’s what you guys wanted. Or maybe a pet. Travel to different countries was a must. It’s what you deserved. You deserved to be loved by the person who gave you the world. 

But, a lot of people online didn’t agree. That’s what was wrong. You broke your own social media break and got your feelings hurt. Correction, it felt more than your feelings getting hurt. This felt more painful. Going online seeing masses after masses of comments claiming how you don’t deserve your fiance felt gut wrenching. You’ve received hate before, the usual comments influencers get. 

Go get a real job. 

You don’t even have a real job. 

The usual that you can just delete and go on about your day. 

But these comments weren’t like that and they just kept coming. You didn’t think it was this bad and usually your assistant would clean up your social media for you. But you just been so busy with the wedding and things just got out of control. Your hands shake with each scroll holding back tears of hurt and anger. How can someone say such things about a person they didn’t even know?

Does she really deserve to be with someone like him?

She can’t possibly think he’ll want to marry her.

He was supposed to marry someone like him. 

You sat on your walk-in closet floor flipping through the wedding planning book she practically held onto since he popped the big question over a year ago. Even though you can feel your fairytale ending in the palm of your hand, it felt like it was slipping through your hands like golden sand. Your own insecurities and doubt was clinging you down and the only thing you can do is attempt to calm yourself down by reminding yourself that Ushijima Wakatoshi wouldn’t have gotten on one knee to ask this question. He wouldn’t have watched you compile your dream wedding in this flimsy journal book for nothing. He wouldn’t do that to you, right? 

Maybe you were just overthinking. You’ve received hate messages regarding dating Ushijima but it never got this bad. It was a quick block and then you went on with your life. You locked your phone as soon as you heard footsteps and the calls of your name. Bringing the corners of your sweatshirt up to your eyes to wipe away any form of your crying because you didn’t want Ushijima to see you like this. He never knew about the messages you received because you thought he wouldn’t have understood. 

“Babe?” His voice calls out in the apartment, he was close—usually knew if he didn’t see you lounging in the living room on your fourth Bob’s Burgers rewatch, you were either in the closet hiding away another pair of shoes you’ve brought or in the study working on something. 

“Babe..” His head peaks into the closet seeing you. He parted to brag about how well his final fitting for his suit went, but when he saw how puffy your eyes were—worry decorated his face swiftly. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked as he stepped in at the sound of your sniffling. 

“It’s nothing, I just was going through the planning book and got emotional. Can you believe that we’re getting married. I’m so excited…and emotional.” You let out a weary sigh and glance down at the book in front of you to avoid his eye contact. 

He was good at knowing when you were lying. He once figured out that you planned a surprise birthday party for him in less than three minutes. That’s how well he knew you. So why couldn’t you tell him this simple thing? Why couldn’t you let the love of your life know that many people in the world just didn’t like the thought of you two together?

“You’re lying to me. Come on, let’s get out of here so we can talk.” He extends his hand that you abruptly took because he wasn’t going to take no for an answer. If you don't come, he’ll throw you over his broad shoulders and carry you out. 

“I’ll make you some of that tea you like.” Ushijima suggests. He stops mid walk to the kitchen to turn to you, large hands cupping at your warm cheeks. “You can tell me what’s wrong when you’re ready, but we’re not going to bed until you speak to me. I refuse to let my soon to be wife go to bed upset.” He pecks you on your forehead before strolling into the kitchen to make tea.

You took a seat in one of the stools basking in the silence alongside the noise Ushijima was making while making tea. You were searching in a sea of words on how to explain the situation. As you sat playing with your own thoughts, you could hear Ushijima go on about the final fitting for the wedding. That included all of his groomsmen and his best man. From the way his face lit when he talked about the wedding, it brought a form of warmth upon you. Like a freshly dried blanket was pulled on your body after being in the cold all day. You enjoyed this look on him. 

Relaxed…Calm…Happy…In Love.

The cup of tea was sitting in front of you and you knew that you didn’t even have to add extra things into it because he always made you the perfect cup of tea to your liking. 

“Waka, I’ve been getting some hate comments lately. Well, a lot of them.” You let out a sigh. “I know I can always block them and just go on about my life, but these ones were much different than the others.” You sipped from your mug before watching him take the seat next to you.

His body turns towards you so that he can have your full attention. You didn’t expect him to talk, but he was a good listener. 

“They’re saying I don’t deserve you.” You started. “Or things like how can you be with someone like that? Or you should be like someone like you.” Your bottom lip quivered and you were trying not to cry. “They see that I’m black and deem me unworthy of their prince charming, their favorite volleyball player…I just don’t understand.” 

The warmth of Ushijima’s hands calmed you immediately. The second his hands were on yours, you felt your heart that felt like it was aggressively attempting to claw out your chest calm down. But it didn’t stop tears from dribbling down your cheeks.

“Baby, why didn’t you tell me? How long has this been going on?” The pad of his thumbs wipes away your tears before he’s pulling you off the stool and in between his thighs to embrace you. 

Ushijima wasn’t very much a social media type of person. He hardly even liked during press days for the volleyball team when he had to. He knew he had some quite aggressive fans, especially fans of the opposite gender. If he would have known about the hate she was receiving, he would have put an end to it immediately. His face was hot in embarrassment from his own fans' behavior, but also anger because his wife to be was upset—hurt and practically on the verge of a panic attack. 

“I just didn’t want to put you in an awkward position. They’re your fans. They practically help you get endorsement deals and shit.” You mumbled in his neck before pulling back to look at him, you expected the look he was giving you.

He was on the brink of saying fuck them. That they didn’t sign his checks nor gave him his volleyball abilities. You can sense his harsh words staining his tongue and even you were too afraid to pitch in that maybe it wasn’t worth it to bring it up. For all you know, your assistant were already adding people’s name to block chains. The messages were most likely getting deleted right now as you were having this conversation with him. 

“Fuck, Y/N. I don’t care. You’re about to be my wife in less than forty eight hours. If they can’t accept you for you and for me, then they’re not a fan of mine.” Ushijima said. “Give me your phone. It’s time for you to get some rest.”

“Waka…”

“You have an early and busy schedule tomorrow.” He let you go and picked up your mug of tea to lead you to the bedroom.

“I don’t want to blow the situation out of proportion. It won’t be good press for the wedding and-”

“I don’t care, Y/N. This is a situation to be blown out of proportion..” He walks into the bedroom and you watch as he’s pulling the blanket off the bed and motioning for you to get in. “Get some rest.” 

“Please don’t get on social media causing any drama. ” You mumbled as you practically got tucked into bed like a little kid. 

“You know I’m not that knowledgeable about those things.” He assures you before he pecks your lips, your cheeks, and lastly your forehead. “Sleep well, okay.” 

You went to argue against his words, but instead decided to get some rest. Especially when it flashed through your mind that you had an early appointment with the wedding planner to finalize everything. Pulling the cream colored duvet further on your body, you fell into a brief slumber until you can hear Ushijima’s voice from the master bedroom’s bathroom.

“How’d the hell I put this phone on this tripod? She makes it look so easy when she’s taking her photos.” 

You rubbed the sleep out your eyes and you didn’t want to get out of bed, not wanting to disturb whatever tasks he was doing. Deciding to stay in bed just to listen to his late night rambles because the sound of his brass voice calmed you. You turned your back away from the bathroom, pulling the blanket further on your body. Wanting to stay up so you can cuddle, but the long hours of planning, wedding dress try-ons, and then the online harassment. finally caught up to you. You fell right back to sleep without hearing Ushijima’s words.

“Okay, I figured this out. I think I’m live. Tendou why are you the first person in my live, that’s so creepy. Okay, more people are joining. Now that I have an audience, I want to address something before I get married. The love of my life, the woman I’m about to marry, has been receiving hate. Not just typical hate about her career, but hate about her race from a group of individuals who are supposed to be my fans and supporters. Many of you know I can be a private person, hardly even post on this account. Many of you, get a glimpse of my life because of my fiance. I’m as important in her life as she is in mine that she’s comfortable enough to have me a part of her career journey. It’s extremely disappointing, disrespectful, and frankly ignorant as fuck reading about the things that you guys have said about her and our relationship. We’re getting married in two days and I don’t need any more ignorant people's opinions on my relationship. Go get a life, a hobby, hell—I would even say adopt a pet, but I wouldn’t even want a pet in some of your spaces if you’re spewing nonsense publicly like that. Moving forward, I will be standing alongside Y/N no matter what, and anymore hate messages will get you blocked and reported. Goodnight everyone and Tendou.”

⤷‧₊˚ cuties that wanted to be tagged | @salaciousdoll @honeybleed @threezzyo @diamondoidxx @shyartnerd564

@superslutny @bloodysamaritan @ryukenzz @starlitsawamura @stingsslut

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You were about to marry the love of your life in two days. That’s what you wanted, right? You dreamt of this day since you said yes to the big question. You imagined your life with him. Kids, if that’s what you guys wanted. Or maybe a pet. Travel to different countries was a must. It’s what you deserved. You deserved to be loved by the person who gave you the world. 

But, a lot of people online didn’t agree. That’s what was wrong. You broke your own social media break and got your feelings hurt. Correction, it felt more than your feelings getting hurt. This felt more painful. Going online seeing masses after masses of comments claiming how you don’t deserve your fiance felt gut wrenching. You’ve received hate before, the usual comments influencers get. 

Go get a real job. 

You don’t even have a real job. 

The usual that you can just delete and go on about your day. 

But these comments weren’t like that and they just kept coming. You didn’t think it was this bad and usually your assistant would clean up your social media for you. But you just been so busy with the wedding and things just got out of control. Your hands shake with each scroll holding back tears of hurt and anger. How can someone say such things about a person they didn’t even know?

Does she really deserve to be with someone like him?

She can’t possibly think he’ll want to marry her.

He was supposed to marry someone like him. 

You sat on your walk-in closet floor flipping through the wedding planning book she practically held onto since he popped the big question over a year ago. Even though you can feel your fairytale ending in the palm of your hand, it felt like it was slipping through your hands like golden sand. Your own insecurities and doubt was clinging you down and the only thing you can do is attempt to calm yourself down by reminding yourself that Ushijima Wakatoshi wouldn’t have gotten on one knee to ask this question. He wouldn’t have watched you compile your dream wedding in this flimsy journal book for nothing. He wouldn’t do that to you, right? 

Maybe you were just overthinking. You’ve received hate messages regarding dating Ushijima but it never got this bad. It was a quick block and then you went on with your life. You locked your phone as soon as you heard footsteps and the calls of your name. Bringing the corners of your sweatshirt up to your eyes to wipe away any form of your crying because you didn’t want Ushijima to see you like this. He never knew about the messages you received because you thought he wouldn’t have understood. 

“Babe?” His voice calls out in the apartment, he was close—usually knew if he didn’t see you lounging in the living room on your fourth Bob’s Burgers rewatch, you were either in the closet hiding away another pair of shoes you’ve brought or in the study working on something. 

“Babe..” His head peaks into the closet seeing you. He parted to brag about how well his final fitting for his suit went, but when he saw how puffy your eyes were—worry decorated his face swiftly. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked as he stepped in at the sound of your sniffling. 

“It’s nothing, I just was going through the planning book and got emotional. Can you believe that we’re getting married. I’m so excited…and emotional.” You let out a weary sigh and glance down at the book in front of you to avoid his eye contact. 

He was good at knowing when you were lying. He once figured out that you planned a surprise birthday party for him in less than three minutes. That’s how well he knew you. So why couldn’t you tell him this simple thing? Why couldn’t you let the love of your life know that many people in the world just didn’t like the thought of you two together?

“You’re lying to me. Come on, let’s get out of here so we can talk.” He extends his hand that you abruptly took because he wasn’t going to take no for an answer. If you don't come, he’ll throw you over his broad shoulders and carry you out. 

“I’ll make you some of that tea you like.” Ushijima suggests. He stops mid walk to the kitchen to turn to you, large hands cupping at your warm cheeks. “You can tell me what’s wrong when you’re ready, but we’re not going to bed until you speak to me. I refuse to let my soon to be wife go to bed upset.” He pecks you on your forehead before strolling into the kitchen to make tea.

You took a seat in one of the stools basking in the silence alongside the noise Ushijima was making while making tea. You were searching in a sea of words on how to explain the situation. As you sat playing with your own thoughts, you could hear Ushijima go on about the final fitting for the wedding. That included all of his groomsmen and his best man. From the way his face lit when he talked about the wedding, it brought a form of warmth upon you. Like a freshly dried blanket was pulled on your body after being in the cold all day. You enjoyed this look on him. 

Relaxed…Calm…Happy…In Love.

The cup of tea was sitting in front of you and you knew that you didn’t even have to add extra things into it because he always made you the perfect cup of tea to your liking. 

“Waka, I’ve been getting some hate comments lately. Well, a lot of them.” You let out a sigh. “I know I can always block them and just go on about my life, but these ones were much different than the others.” You sipped from your mug before watching him take the seat next to you.

His body turns towards you so that he can have your full attention. You didn’t expect him to talk, but he was a good listener. 

“They’re saying I don’t deserve you.” You started. “Or things like how can you be with someone like that? Or you should be like someone like you.” Your bottom lip quivered and you were trying not to cry. “They see that I’m black and deem me unworthy of their prince charming, their favorite volleyball player…I just don’t understand.” 

The warmth of Ushijima’s hands calmed you immediately. The second his hands were on yours, you felt your heart that felt like it was aggressively attempting to claw out your chest calm down. But it didn’t stop tears from dribbling down your cheeks.

“Baby, why didn’t you tell me? How long has this been going on?” The pad of his thumbs wipes away your tears before he’s pulling you off the stool and in between his thighs to embrace you. 

Ushijima wasn’t very much a social media type of person. He hardly even liked during press days for the volleyball team when he had to. He knew he had some quite aggressive fans, especially fans of the opposite gender. If he would have known about the hate she was receiving, he would have put an end to it immediately. His face was hot in embarrassment from his own fans' behavior, but also anger because his wife to be was upset—hurt and practically on the verge of a panic attack. 

“I just didn’t want to put you in an awkward position. They’re your fans. They practically help you get endorsement deals and shit.” You mumbled in his neck before pulling back to look at him, you expected the look he was giving you.

He was on the brink of saying fuck them. That they didn’t sign his checks nor gave him his volleyball abilities. You can sense his harsh words staining his tongue and even you were too afraid to pitch in that maybe it wasn’t worth it to bring it up. For all you know, your assistant were already adding people’s name to block chains. The messages were most likely getting deleted right now as you were having this conversation with him. 

“Fuck, Y/N. I don’t care. You’re about to be my wife in less than forty eight hours. If they can’t accept you for you and for me, then they’re not a fan of mine.” Ushijima said. “Give me your phone. It’s time for you to get some rest.”

“Waka…”

“You have an early and busy schedule tomorrow.” He let you go and picked up your mug of tea to lead you to the bedroom.

“I don’t want to blow the situation out of proportion. It won’t be good press for the wedding and-”

“I don’t care, Y/N. This is a situation to be blown out of proportion..” He walks into the bedroom and you watch as he’s pulling the blanket off the bed and motioning for you to get in. “Get some rest.” 

“Please don’t get on social media causing any drama. ” You mumbled as you practically got tucked into bed like a little kid. 

“You know I’m not that knowledgeable about those things.” He assures you before he pecks your lips, your cheeks, and lastly your forehead. “Sleep well, okay.” 

You went to argue against his words, but instead decided to get some rest. Especially when it flashed through your mind that you had an early appointment with the wedding planner to finalize everything. Pulling the cream colored duvet further on your body, you fell into a brief slumber until you can hear Ushijima’s voice from the master bedroom’s bathroom.

“How’d the hell I put this phone on this tripod? She makes it look so easy when she’s taking her photos.” 

You rubbed the sleep out your eyes and you didn’t want to get out of bed, not wanting to disturb whatever tasks he was doing. Deciding to stay in bed just to listen to his late night rambles because the sound of his brass voice calmed you. You turned your back away from the bathroom, pulling the blanket further on your body. Wanting to stay up so you can cuddle, but the long hours of planning, wedding dress try-ons, and then the online harassment. finally caught up to you. You fell right back to sleep without hearing Ushijima’s words.

“Okay, I figured this out. I think I’m live. Tendou why are you the first person in my live, that’s so creepy. Okay, more people are joining. Now that I have an audience, I want to address something before I get married. The love of my life, the woman I’m about to marry, has been receiving hate. Not just typical hate about her career, but hate about her race from a group of individuals who are supposed to be my fans and supporters. Many of you know I can be a private person, hardly even post on this account. Many of you, get a glimpse of my life because of my fiance. I’m as important in her life as she is in mine that she’s comfortable enough to have me a part of her career journey. It’s extremely disappointing, disrespectful, and frankly ignorant as fuck reading about the things that you guys have said about her and our relationship. We’re getting married in two days and I don’t need any more ignorant people's opinions on my relationship. Go get a life, a hobby, hell—I would even say adopt a pet, but I wouldn’t even want a pet in some of your spaces if you’re spewing nonsense publicly like that. Moving forward, I will be standing alongside Y/N no matter what, and anymore hate messages will get you blocked and reported. Goodnight everyone and Tendou.”

⤷‧₊˚ cuties that wanted to be tagged | @salaciousdoll @honeybleed @threezzyo @diamondoidxx @shyartnerd564

@superslutny @bloodysamaritan @ryukenzz @starlitsawamura @stingsslut

@owoasis @kristvns @chrrypink @hon0vi @miiyahmonae

@peachesncats @jellymantra33 @markleedreams @theinnerthoughtsofalonesomegirl @oneeew