ELEGANCE

He didn’t snap. It’s so much worse than that. At least in the eyes of the arrogant boy who got bested by, what he assumed to be a grade two curse because of how pudgy and stupid it looked. The thing that caught him lacking looked like a fucking blob fish that struggled with crippling anxiety, how the hell was he supposed to know that it could mess with timeof all things? 

One moment he’s laughing at the way it looks, the next he’s in the complete dark. 

That was the first time he’s smiled in months, by the way. 

“Huh?” Satoru huffs out, trying to look around before eventually realizing that he has a blindfold on, and rips it off in annoyance. “Don’t tell me that thing knocked me out,” he begins to grumble to himself. It’d explain why he had a blindfold on… but then he realized he was in a completely different outfit, one that you didn’t put on someone who was currently in rest and recovery. 

He highly doubts Shoko would even change him, anyway, at least not for this. 

“Oh hey, you’re home.” 

Home? 

He looks around, and all he knows is this isn’t the dorm he’s continued to stay in after graduation, purely due to the fact that he was already out on missions for up to 18 hours each day. Not to mention that the penthouse he was currently standing in was too clean to be his. Too warm. Way too comfortable.

You already knew there was something deeply off in those first few seconds of looking into his eyes. This wasn’t your husband— this was the hot mess you met and still fell in love with all those years ago. 

You tilt your head to the side, more curious than cautious, “Everything alright?”

“Yeah,” he snorts, literally the worst liar ever. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I don’t know,” you hum, holding eye contact long enough to leave him feeling a bit unsettled. “You tell me.”

First of all, who the fuck do you think you are speaking to him like that?

Second, who even are you?

Something big and shiny on your finger catches his attention, then he looks at his own hand that has an equally shiny band around his ring finger. 

Fuck.

“Honey–”

Satoru physically cringes at the pet name, giving himself away once again. 

“I’m not Satoru,” he blurts out, rubbing his eyes in frustration. “I mean, I am, but I’m not— FUCK– some fuckin’ curse blasted me into the future, and I need to go back.”

Well, that was quick. He’s always quick to fold under pressure when it comes to you— it’s something he’s unaware of though, as he fights back the urge to start pacing back and forth. 

There’s a light smack from your mouth when you go to open it, only for the words to never even come, let alone die out. Nothing about this surprises you. This is not the craziest thing that’s happened since you’ve met Satoru. 

Your lips thin into a smile as you take a deep breath, knowing you had no choice but to accept your new circumstances. 

“Okay.”

“Okay?” He raises a brow at how you just… accepted it.

“Yeah… I believe it.” You respond flatly, then point at him, casually motioning your finger up and down. “Your attitude kinda sucked when we first met.”

He grimaces, taken aback by the statement. “No, it doesn’t–”

“You also liked to argue, too.”

“Okay— whatever,” he waves a dismissive hand, not at all interested in hearing what else you had to say. At this point, it just sounded like you wanted to shit on him, something he actually doesn’t have any fucking time for right now. “You’re a sorcerer… right?” 

“No.” 

“Christ.” Satoru sighs, turning on his heel. “You’re fuckin’ useless—“

You scoff, more humored than offended. “Where are you going?” 

“To figure this shit out!” he snaps, throwing his arms out as he turns around to face you. 

“Okay,” you shrug, still way too calm for Satoru’s liking, as it pisses him off even more. “If you don’t get it all figured out tonight, you can always come back. We have a guest room.” 

“Yeah, thanks.” He huffs out a bitter laugh, as if that was the dumbest suggestion he’s ever heard. “I appreciate the offer.” 

– 

“Yaga” Satoru storms into the principal’s office, ignoring all his cursed stuffed animals, but noticing what he’s done with his hair. “What the fuck happened to you?”

The principal's brows pinch together, wishing he had locked the door to his office. Satoru fucked with him enough today by showing up to a meeting 20 minutes late with some sugary frap in his hand, and now he’s storming into his office, insulting him out of nowhere. 

“Actually, nevemind.” Satoru waves a hand to stop him from even answering his question, reminding himself not to get sidetracked right now. “Look, I need your help. I got sent into the future by some curse, and I need to get back.”

Yaga inhales sharply. “What are you even talking about?”

“Exactly what I just said! I’m from 2009! Not whatever age I am now—”

“31.”

Satoru throws up a little in his mouth. “Send me back.” 

Yaga lets out a long, disappointed sigh. It’s always something with Satoru. Always. Having to deal with the younger version of him was a painful reminder that he’s been dealing with his bullshit for well over a decade now. Nothing surprises him anymore.  

“Let me see if some other windows would be willing to help look through the library. I’m sure you’ll be able to find information on what kind of curse you got hit with.”

“Thank you,” Satoru groans, still not very pleased by everyone’s reactions thus far, but grateful that he can at least get somewhere with Yaga… unlike a certain somebody. 

Hours later, he finds himself at the school’s dusty, unkept library. It looks worse than it originally looked before he walked in. Books sprawled everywhere. Research papers were scattered all over the tables and floor. Assistants running around in every direction, more than half of them terrified at the total 180 in Satoru’s attitude. 

“W-we can’t find anything,” Ijichi says, too old to be acting this scared in Satoru’s opinion. 

He hums, elbows still resting on his knees, not bothering to sit up. “Hey, Ijichi?”

Ijichi gulped loudly, managing to annoy the world’s strongest sorcerer even more. “...Yes?” 

“How are you even more incompetent now than you were before?”

“I tried my best! I swear!”

“Well, it’s not good enough— I’m still here!” he snaps at the nervous wreck of a man. Thank fucking god Ijichi listened to him and just became a window. He sucks at it too, but at least it’s easier for this dumbass to avoid death. “God— what the fuck am I supposed to do now?!”

“This is just one of the libraries, there’s more! And some in Kyoto too, that we’ll have the Kyoto branch check out.”

“Do whatever you need to do. I’m just letting you know right now that if I'm not back by tomorrow, you better watch the fuck out.”

The threat is followed by complete dead silence, aside from a certain someone's breath catching in horror.

“Me?!” Ijichi squeaks out.

The sorcerer doesn’t bother answering that and instead walks away, grumbling something insulting under his breath, just in complete and utter disbelief over how Ijichi truly hasn’t changed. 

—

You figured your husband would eventually come back, so you set some food aside for him, and now you’re sitting at the dinner table, trying not to laugh at the pout on his face as he picks at his dinner with the chopsticks in his hand. 

“Is the food good?”

“Sure.”

“I can warm that up for you, if you want?” you ask, barely trying to hide your amusement. 

“No thanks,” he curtly responds before shoving another piece of karaage into his mouth. He’s known to have a sweet tooth, but chicken karaage’s probably his favorite food, savory wise. You almost want to tell him that he’s allowed to enjoy food even if his day hasn’t gone the way he had planned. “I’d appreciate it if you stopped staring.” 

Your lips twitch, threatening to break out into a fit of laughter. “Right, sorry.”

“Mommy…? Is Daddy home yet?” 

Oh great. As if the day couldn’t get any worse— now there’s a child.

“Yeah,” you respond in a tentative tone, shooting Satoru a look that screams ‘behave or else’, and even though you are currently a stranger to him, it intimidates him enough to behave for the time being. 

A little girl, no older than 4 years old, walks into the kitchen and Satoru’s eyes nearly bulge out of his head upon seeing his daughter. It’s pretty obvious she’s his with her baby blue eyes and stark white hair. Her facial features are entirely yours, though. It’s strange to see.

“Hey… kiddo—” he awkwardly says, not really sure how to address the little girl. You clear your throat, mouthing ‘princess’ when he looks at you, because your daughter also happens to have her dad’s attitude. “I mean princess.”

It’s hilarious how unnatural it sounds right now when he was the one who started calling her that the moment you two took her home from the hospital. 

“You pomis to wead bedtime stowie,” she starts to pout— same exact way he does.

“Did I?” He gives the girl a sympathetic look, albeit fake. 

“Yeah,” she frowns as she walks up to you, giving him the world’s nastiest side eye. “Liar.”

Why is that the one word she’s able to enunciate correctly? She didn’t even stutter.

“Yeah— I was a little busy with work today,” he murmurs, as if she knew what that even meant. With the glare she was giving him, he doubted she’d even care if he broke down what work and the importance of it was. “Maybe mommy can read to you tonight?”

Sai wasn’t having that. 

Satoru spent the end of his night reading her favorite book to her. Multiple times. He almost asked if it was some form of punishment for not upholding a promise he didn’t technically make himself, but decided against it in fear that she’d make him read it one more time. Sai fell asleep… eventually. Despite there being no way to prove it, he knows that the little girl forced herself to stay up out of pure spite. 

But still, he finds himself smiling as he thinks about his nightmare of a future, not wiping it off quickly enough when you lightly knock on the guest bedroom door.

“Here’s some jammys for the night.” You smile back as you walk up and hand him a pair of sweats and a white t-shirt, both neatly folded up. “Figured you wouldn’t want to sleep in your work clothes.”

“Oh uh— thanks.” He clears his throat and forces out a laugh, pushing through the embarrassment of getting caught smiling to himself. 

You’re giving him that look again. The one that’s mixed with amusement and a bit of fondness, where you look like you’re about to start making fun of him, but never do. Satoru would rather die than admit it makes him nervous. 

“What?” 

There’s a small pause as your smile grows. “Do you like your kid?”

“She’s weird.”

“Yeah, no— you wouldn’t believe who she got that from.”

“Fuck off.” A laugh easily slips through his lips this time, unable to stay serious at the thought of her inheriting even just a quarter of the traits he had as a child. Then it grows quiet again as he realizes she probably has the freedom to be a kid. 

He wants to ask, but you beat him to it with a statement that answered the question he had in mind. 

“Your duties as her father don’t end just because you managed to time travel by the way,” you say playfully, though he knows you’re being dead serious. 

He can only guess what other horrors that little girl will subject him to for the rest of his time here. To put it simply, she’s not afraid of Dad. 

For once, somebody doesn’t look at him as a god to fear. 

—

It’s been over a month. 

Ijichi and the rest of the windows are just as useless as they were when they first started trying to find answers. All that’s changed is that Nanami knows, and doesn’t seem to be too thrilled about the fact that he is now involved.

But still, the search for the fix to his predicament continues, turning every library and warehouse upside down. That’s all they could really do— aside from asking the elders for assistance of some sort. 

Over his dead body. 

Knowing they’d most likely do more harm than good, everyone’s agreed to keep this all a little secret from them.

So all that’s left to do, or rather forced to do, is to be patient. It’s hard. Satoru doesn’t do patient— he’s the type to snap his fingers and have a solution magically appear right before his eyes. You can only imagine how difficult it’s been for him to accept that he can’t immediately get what he wants right now.

Not to mention the fact that he had to continue working throughout all of this, but that wasn’t very surprising. 

Now, what was surprising was learning that he has his weekends completely to himself. If anything, he assumed he’d just work more as time went on, but no. Turns out he threatened to kill the higher-ups if they didn’t let him have that when you two got married. 

Satoru looks over your body once. 

Twice. 

He totally understands his future self. 

He looks again for a third time, and you just so conveniently turn around, showing off your cute, frilly little apron covered in flour streaks. 

It’s Sunday— you’ve been baking sweet treats all morning, and he wishes he had been a little nicer to you. Especially a couple of days ago when he snapped at you. 

You had found him sitting alone on the balcony, head in his hands from yet another day of failure. 

“Hey… any good news?”

“No,” he said impatiently. “If there was, I wouldn’t fucking be here right now.” 

“Fair enough.” Your voice took a dip as you looked at the ground, allowing yourself to feel a little hurt for a moment before trying to lift the mood again. “Well… me and Sai stopped by your favorite bakery and got you the cookies you like if you wanted some—“

“No— no,” Satoru cut you off. “I don’t want your fucking cookies. I don’t want to do a family movie night where all we watch is Ms. Rachel. I don’t want to read some book about a mouse trying to become a fucking painter over and over again. I don’t want ANY of it. I want to fucking go home— what part about that do you not get?”

You tried to stand as straight as possible despite your shoulders growing heavier, pushing against the small frown threatening to carve itself across your face. You forgot how mean he used to be, at least during that first year of dating him. It only stings more because the man you married would never raise his voice like that, and you remind yourself that this isn’t him.

After a long pause, he looked up at you and immediately felt guilt wash over him.

“I didn’t mean that,” he tried to meet your eyes as he began to backtrack. “I’m sorry, I just— fuck. I didn’t mean any of that—”

“It’s fine.” You forced yourself to look at him again and smile. “I’ll uh… give you some space.”

The one thing about Satoru is that he doesn’t apologize. Like ever. So, one could only imagine how painfully awkward it was later that night when he knocked on your bedroom door to say he was sorry. It didn’t help that you were in a paper-thin silk slip, skin glistening from the lotion you rubbed all over it— he spent half his time trying not to stare at your tits. Had you been anyone else, it wouldn’t have felt as genuine. 

But thank fuck he apologized, you probably would’ve spent all day ignoring him. 

You raise a brow, and his cheeks start to pink. “What are you staring at?” 

“Nothing, you just–” he awkwardly gestures at your entire body, “there’s flour all over you.” 

It almost sounds like he’s offended by it. He kind of is. You keep your foot on his fucking neck— he doesn’t even know why he came out here. 

“Oh, right— 'cause messes have always bothered you,” you lean over the island ever so slightly. The pink on his cheeks darkens as you do, unable to control his eyes from drifting down to your cleavage. And while he’s not exactly ashamed of looking— you are his wife after all— he can’t help but be a little flustered. 

He’s always had a thing for milfs.

Especially when said milf is talking about messes— he knows a couple of places he could make a mess on right now. 

“Nah,” he rests his elbows on the marble counter as a playful grin stretches across his face. “This is nothing compared to how I like it.”  

You tilt your head, a small laugh escaping you as you rest your chin over your palm, curious to see where this conversation will get you. 

“How do you like it?” you ask, as if you didn’t already know how filthy and depraved he could get when he’s alone in a room with you. 

And you fucking miss that. 

He opens his mouth to respond. 

Then you hear your daughter whimpering about waking up alone. It’s nothing new, and you revert back to mom mode as you watch her turn the corner and waddle towards you. 

Satoru, on the other hand, is not used to this. The slightly bruised laugh he lets out just barely masks his desire to fucking scream. What a fucking cockblock— no wonder you only have one kid. 

His kid completely ignores his existence as she wraps herself around your leg, continuing to whimper despite no actual tears streaming down her cheeks. “I had a nightmawh.”

Meanwhile, there’s Satoru, who has yet to wake up from his very own nightmare. He internally sighs, then attempts to grab her attention because it doesn’t feel very good watching her give it all to you. “You wanna share a muffin with daddy?”

It’s starting to sound more natural.

“Y-yeah,” she sniffles. 

Minutes later, she’s sitting on his lap, absolutely demolishing the blueberry muffin they ended up splitting— a complete 180. He couldn’t be mad, even if he tried. 

His little girl was a dream. 

—

Month two. Ijichi is still as useless as ever. He stopped complaining to you about him, though. You noticed he doesn’t talk about going back to his original timeline all that much anymore.

It’s not like Satoru’s given up hope, he’s just more present, as if he finally realized that wallowing in self-pity wasn’t going to send him back any faster. He’s unknowingly more like his future self— laid back, not a care in the world. 

He’s even sleeping in for once. It’s not that hard though when Sai’s gone for the day. She seemed to care more about getting the hell out of the house with her grandparents than greeting her father a good morning. You didn’t push her to, either— figuring Satoru needed the sleep. He always does. 

It’s too bad that his phone started blowing up at around 10:00 am. Unfortunately for you, he left his phone in the living room, leaving you to get up and grab it since the master bedroom was the closest room to it. With how thick the walls are, you doubt he’d even hear it.

With a long sigh, you rise from bed, rubbing the sleep off your eyes as you snatch the stupid phone off the coffee table. 

The snores coming from Satoru reach your ears before you even open the door. You have to hold back a laugh as you walk in and take a look at him. Face down, his long limbs sprawled over the bed, messy white hair sticking out in all directions. 

You reach out and place a gentle hand on his shoulder, surprised infinity is off. 

“Toru?” He stirs a bit, and you cautiously attempt to wake him up again. “Toru— someone’s been trying to call you for the past 10 minutes now.”

He lifts his head, eyes still sealed shut as he murmurs, “Who?” 

“Uhh,” you look at the screen, unsure of who it might be. “Your contact name for them is nerd.” 

You know it’s not Ijichi because his contact name is “courage 🐶” in his phone. Someone else must've annoyed Satoru for him to change yet another contact. 

Satoru shoves his head back into the pillow and groans before taking the phone off your hands.

It’s Nanami. He, of all people, should know now is not the time to be blowing up his phone right now because he is fucking sleeping. It’s a Saturday for fucks sake. 

Satoru sighs and accepts the call, grumbling into the phone. “What?”

Nanami cuts straight to the chase, as he would rather be doing anything else right now. 

“How long are you planning on hiding your secret from the higher-ups?” he asks in a clipped tone. 

Satoru rubs his eyes, too tired to return the same sense of urgency his friend seems to have at the moment. “Forever.”

“Don’t give me that.” A vein pops up on the side of the usually stoic man’s forehead. “They asked me about you this morning. They know something’s up. I can’t keep covering for you if it means my own safety’s on the line.”

“You really haven’t changed, have you?” It’s more of a statement than a question.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean—“

“You’ll be fine,” Satoru cuts him off. “They’re always up my ass anyway. I doubt they’re even suspicious. They just don’t know how to mind their own fuckin’ business. Seriously. You’re worrying over nothing right now.”

“I swear to god Gojo, if you—“

“Kay’ good night.” 

Click.

Nanami’s probably fuming right now, but he’ll get over it. Satoru wanted to enjoy this. Lying in a comfy bed, surrounded by nothing but peace and quiet. He closes his eyes and stretches a bit, then rests his hands behind his head. 

He would’ve forgotten that you were still sitting at the edge of the bed had you not lightly cleared your throat. One eye opens to look at you, then closes. The last thing he wants to do is share the reason why Nanami had been blowing up his phone all morning. 

“Just because you can’t see me doesn’t mean I’m not here.” You cross your arms. “What was that all about?” 

“Nothin’,” he easily says. “Just Nanami being Nanami— the guy’s a fuckin’ stickler for no reason.” 

“That’s a little rude, no?” you chastise him. 

“So is waking me up.” 

“Sai wakes you up all the time, though.”

“Sai’s a ball of sunshine,” he says, quickly coming to her defense. “Not a grown man with depression— where is she by the way?” 

“She’s spending the afternoon with my parents.” 

Both eyes open this time, and stay open. “Why didn’t you go with them?”

“No way,” you wave a hand. “I need a break, too.” 

“Yeah, no— I’m sure,” he agrees, feeling flustered all the sudden. 

And Satoru being Satoru, he doesn’t do a very good job of hiding it, once again forgetting that you can read him better than anyone else can.

You smile, scooching closer, “You good there?” 

“Yeah, m’fine,” he murmurs, trying not to shift around too much.

“I can take care of that, you know.” 

“What?” 

“That.” You look down at the boner he’s been trying to hide since finding out it’s just you two here.

“That’s not—“ His brain straight up short-circuits. “You don’t think that’s weird?” 

“No.” You continue to inch forward, getting closer to him. “Do you think it’s weird?”

“No— never,” he shakes his head, answering a little too fast. “Fuck— won’t future me get mad?” 

“Not at all. The most he’d probably do is make me show him what we did.” 

“Make you show him?” he repeats after you in disbelief. 

“Is that a problem?” 

“No, that’s— that’s fuckin’ hot.” 

Minutes later, you’re leaning forward with your hand wrapped around his base, and his breath catches as you start to slowly pump his cock. 

“Feel good?” 

His lids lower as he hums, “yeah— keep going.”

You lean forward, letting a string of spit fall from your lips to the tip of his cock, letting it mix with the precum that was already beading down from it. The wet sounds of you stroking him begin to grow, making the heat in between your legs start to pool.

“Can I sit on it?” You look up at him, batting your lashes as you innocently ask. 

“Please,” he blurts out, just about ready to start begging you to.

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t just as eager as him after all the weeks spent pretending like you don’t notice the way he stares at you. Lustfully. The slip you’re wearing happens to be extra short today, so you forego stripping down and practically pounce on him. Your soaked panties grazing over his rock-hard length as you straddle him, letting yourself get comfortable while Satoru grows impatient. 

His hands find themselves planted on your hips and pull you down. A low groan escapes him as he grinds you against him. “God— fuck me. Please.”

“Well, since you’re being so sweet—”

You reach down, hooking a finger into the fabric of your panties, pulling them to the side. He’s already lining himself up with your entrance, teasing your hole as he runs his tip through your folds, collecting all the slick. His lips part as he watches in awe at how damn wet you are. 

His head tips back as you lower yourself, groaning and rambling to himself as if you weren’t there to hear it all. 

"Fuck. You’re so hot.” His words come out strained as he watches you start to take him inch by inch, slowly working yourself open. “So fuckin’ tight, too.” 

“Mmm— forgot how big you are.” Your voice is all soft and breathy from the fullness, nails slowly digging into his abs as you bottom out.

It takes a minute to adjust— it has been 3 months after all. But then you finally roll your hips, and Satoru almost starts singing praises at how good you are at that—  lifting your hips all the way up and throwing them back, taking all of him. 

"Fuck yeah– just like that," he breathes, fingers digging into the flesh of your hips. "Feels so fucking good."

You murmur back a measly, “kay,” already dizzy from the stretch. You’re able to keep up the pace on your own for a bit, until you feel his grip on you tighten and the sounds of skin slapping against his start to grow as he starts to help you out. 

You wouldn’t exactly call it help though, not when he ended up doing all the work— holding you steady while he practically bounces you on his cock, pulling more and more moans out of you as the head of his cock repeatedly kissed your sweet spot with almost no effort. 

"You take it so good," he groans, pupils blown wide as he starts to feel himself lose control, snapping his hips up a little harder than the last. He wants more, he always wants more— so he pulls you forward and pulls your straps down far enough for your tits to spill out. "Perfect fuckin’ tits. Been thinking about these for weeks."

You let out a surprised gasp as he pops a nipple in his mouth with no warning. You fully believe him with the way he starts sucking and swirling and flicking his tongue over your sensitive bud, all while snapping his hips up harder. 

He pulls back with a pop, looking up at you for approval. “Was that good?”

“Mhm.” There’s a fucked out expression on your face as you weakly nod. “Harder.”

“You want me to fuck you harder?”

“Yeah.” 

Something in him snaps. Eager to please you, he flips you over and folds you underneath him— grabbing the back of your knees and pinning them to your chest so he can drive his cock into you deeper. 

“Better?”

He drives his hips forward again, knocking the air out of your lungs. “God— yes.”

“I can’t— fuck— can’t believe you’re all mine, can’t believe I get to have you,” he starts to ramble as the sounds of him absolutely pounding into you fill the room. “You’re so fuckin’ perfect— all of you.” 

He crashes his lips into yours— the kiss is messy, powered by hunger. Satoru’s always been overwhelming, but it’s been years since it’s been this emotionally intense. He fucks you like he needs you, like he’s been waiting for you all his life. 

Your walls begin to squeeze and flutter around his cock, pulling another groan out of him. “You close?”

“Yeah,” you whine, feeling the pressure begin to coil. “Keep going.”

He’s close too, you can tell by how sloppy his thrusts have grown, no longer trying to control himself as he starts chasing after both of your releases. He shoves his face into the crook of your neck and fucks you faster, harder— balls slapping against your ass with each lewd wet squelch. 

Your orgasm hits you hard after one particularly rough thrust. Scratching at his back as a cry tears through you, and it only goes straight to his dick, not even realizing just how overstimulated you are from the way he drills into you. 

“Fuck.” It’s just one word that comes out of his mouth after realizing how hard he’s about to fucking cum. He bites into your shoulder as his balls start to tighten, squeezing his eyes shut as he braces himself. 

When it happens, it’s a lot. He shoves himself deep inside of you, unaware of all the weight he puts on you as hot spurts of cum begin to flood your walls. Slowly grinding against you, letting your tight pussy milk the rest of him. 

You’re wrecked by the end of it. You both are— lids tired and heavy, bodies sore and out of breath.

And in the end, you just let yourself fall asleep, unaware of the soft kiss pressed against your temple as he watched you.

—

It’s month three, and Satoru doesn’t want to go back. 

What was the point? It’s not like he had anyone or anything to go back to. Jujutsu Society never crumbled from him getting shot into the future. Would it really be that bad if he just never went back and continued on with his life from here?

He hasn’t uttered a word about it out loud, but the way he completely stopped asking Yaga and Ijichi for updates was telling of where he was at mentally.  

Acceptance. 

He likes his life here. 

You’ve come to your own conclusion after these last three months.

No wonder why he was so hot and cold when you were trying to get to know him. Satoru got a little taste of genuine comfort, only for it to be ripped away from him sometime before you two actually met. It explains all the times you wondered why he even tried with you, despite being too emotionally inept to even be in a relationship. He probably went through the beginning of your relationship thinking you could disappear at any second. 

With that being said, he can’t stay here. As much as you’d love to continue being the source of comfort for this version of Satoru, he needs to experience the last year he spent alone before meeting you. He needs to feel cautious around you. He needs to try and fail at opening up a handful of times before getting comfortable with the idea of truly being vulnerable with a person. Getting over that element of fear he had towards getting close to others is what made him a husband and father— he couldn’t just skip that part of his life. 

You have no idea how you’re going to tell him that, though. You’re not one to kick a sick puppy, especially one as cute as him. He’s so happy here with you and Sai that the thought of doing so makes your chest ache. 

He’s having a tea party with Sai right now, limbs way too long to sit in the little stool she pulled up for him to sit in. He drinks imaginary tea from the plastic pink cup she hands him, and your chest aches some more. You force yourself to look away before the tears start. 

You’d do the next 11 years all over again if you could.

“Hey, Honey?” Satoru calls out to you.

There’s a pause before you whip your head around— it’s been months since he’s called you that. There’s nothing but warmth and fondness in his eyes as his gaze meets yours. “Why is Nanami’s number saved under ‘nerd’ in my phone?”

He’s back.

“I don’t know,” you laugh, despite the tear falling down your cheek. “You tell me.”

—

Satoru didn’t want to believe it when everything around him went dark once again. It’s not until his feet touch the ground with a soft thud and he finds himself back in his messy, cold dorm when reality slapped him across the face.

Something between a sob and a gut-wrenching scream rips from his throat. Grabbing the round shades he had hoped he’d never have to fucking wear again, he rips them off his face and sends it crashing into the wall, breaking into a hundred little pieces. He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t give himself a chance to even breathe or think before raising his hand and releasing a purple orb with just a flick of his fingers. 

Impulsive. Reckless. Deadly. 

Satoru was fucking devastated. 

Nobody knew what triggered him that night. All they knew was that the east wing of the school looked like it had been hit by an asteroid by the time he calmed down. He didn’t speak to anyone for a good two weeks following the incident. Everyone wants to think he was lucky the explosion didn’t have any casualties, but then they remembered who he was: Satoru fucking Gojo. 

God’s don’t get punished, nor do natural disasters— it’s hard to tell which one he was at this point. 

One Year Later

“If it’s that small of a curse, why are you sending me there?” Satoru continues to argue with one of the new managers over the phone. 

It wasn’t that small of a curse. It was a grade one. But still, given the sorcerer’s title as a special grade, he was overqualified for the job. 

“I’m sorry, we just don’t have anyone available to take on the case at the moment.” The young woman continues to apologize over the phone. “I think we might have a grade 3 available for the job. I- I can check—”

“Save it.” Satoru cuts her off. He wasn’t that heartless to push the case off to some 15 year old. That’s exactly how Haibara died. “Send me the address.” 

The mission was nothing short of an inconvenience for him. He liked a challenge when exorcising curses, and the damn thing didn’t even put up a fucking fight. He traveled 2 hours to get here just for that? Unbelievable. 

He wasn’t ready to leave and sit on a train for another 2 hours just yet, so he decided to walk around the town for a bit. 

It was a cute place, a little quiet. Kinda boring. That’s never a bad thing, though. Lots of mom and pop shops, a few coffee shops scattered around, one of which he decided to try. A little sugar’s always good, at least to him. 

The smell of vanilla and roasted coffee beans hit him as he walked into the place. There was a decent amount of customers inside. Not too much to feel crowded, but enough to stay busy. He keeps his eyes on the menu the entire time. The line moves fast, and he figures out what he wants just in time. 

“And what can I get started for you today?”

His eyes are still on the screen, reading the item off the menu.

“Can I get a white chocolate mocha frappuccino, with an extra pump of…” his words die out, and his eyes widen as he finally looks at the girl taking his order. “Hey.”

“Hi.” You laugh at the way this stranger loses his train of thought. “Extra pump of white chocolate syrup?”

“Yeah.” He exhales, unable to rip his eye off you as you write the words down on the plastic cup with a sharpie. 

“Name for the order?”

“Go– Satoru,” he corrects himself. “It’s Satoru.”

He’s a little awkward, but you still find him quite charming and smile. “Alright, Satoru. Your order should be ready in about 10 minutes.”

“Awesome. Thanks,” he nods rather pathetically, then goes to sit in an empty corner of the shop with only one thought in mind: 

He has 10 minutes to come up with what to say to get your number. 

You were wearing a new dress that you had bought the day before. It hugged your chubby body perfectly, stopping halfway up your thick thighs. The pale pink fabric brought out the luminous glow of your brown skin. Made of satin and molding to your curves in the most exquisite way, with thin straps that barely supported your breasts, the ribbon bow at the center of your chest made your sexy outfit cute. Your long braids was tied in a low bun held by a ribbon bow at the back, leaving your pretty round face uncovered. Your eyelids were enhanced with glittery pink eyeshadow, your long false eyelashes made your gaze so seductive, and your lips were glossy, looking so delicious. A literal angel. Eren, Ony, and Connie would eat you up if they could.

Eren adjusted his bulge in his black sweatpants and tried to look away so as not to worsen his erection by staring at you, while Connie and Ony were still staring, completely unashamed of looking like creeps. Your Mary Jane heels clicked on the floor as you walked around the restaurant taking orders from your little notebook, and when you arrived at the three men's table, your eyes lit up, happy to see them.

They were your favorite customers. They'd been coming to eat at the restaurant three times a week for at least a year. You didn't know how they'd managed to always be there during your shifts—Connie had threatened your boss to give him your work schedule—but it was always a pleasure to see them. They always complimented you and were so sweet to you, nothing like the old men who had wives and looked at you with lust in their eyes.

The most intimidating one was Eren. He was always dressed in black with a hood over his head that hid his face, but you could glimpse his neck tattoos peeking out from under his hoodie. His eyes were always hald-lidded and red from weed, staring intensely into your soul when you took his order, sending shivers down your spine. He was known as the university's plug; you'd never used his services, but his deep voice spoke to you so sweetly that you considered buying from him so he could talk to you privately.

The friendliest was Ony. Compared to Eren's dark appearance, Ony exuded light. You would have to be a psychoapth to not to like Ony's intelligence and kindness. He loved fashion and taking care of himself, you both always talked about skincare and clothes. He played basketball on your university team, making him the most popular of the trio. You loved learning about his sport, and hear the passion in his voice when he talked about Lamelo Ball. He was a bit of a star on campus but was the least arrogant man you'd ever met, always smiling softly when you talked to him, making you feel so safe and care for.

The most flirtatious was Connie. You could never look him in the eye when he called you ‘princesa’, joking about how you were the prettiest girl he'd ever seen. You never knew if he called you ‘mami’ just because it was normal for latino men, or if he was actually trying to flirt with you. Like Eren, he often wore his hood up, hiding his eyebrow piercings, but he wasn't as intimidating. He always had a teasing glint in his eyes that made you flutter.

“Hey,” you said shyly, approaching their table.

As always, Eren was stoned out, his pupils dilated as he looked at you, making your spine tingle. Ony’s lips curved into a smile, clenching his tattooed hand to bump his fists against yours.

You didn’t have any friends because of your social anxiety, only Jean as a boyfriend, so it always made you happy when they treated you like one of their own, even though they were just regular customers you sometimes ran into at university.

“The usual?” you asked, already knowing what they were going to order. A cheeseburger with fries for Ony (don’t tell Reiner, his coach, that he loves that), a steak with fries for Eren, and a salad for Connie.

“No, I want something sweeter today,” Connie replied, leaning back against the back of his chair. Eren smirked, understanding perfectly what his best friend really wanted.

“You just want dessert today?” You tilted your head.

Ony’s eyes softened; you looked so cute with your head cocked to the side.

“Nah.” Connie’s voice grew seductive. “Just you.”

Your autistic brain, which didn’t quite grasp irony and sarcasm, made you wear a confused expression. “Hm, what do you mean?”

Connie just licked his lips, his gaze lingering on your fat thighs. “Nothing, mami.”

“Is that a new dress?” Ony asked, tugging at the hem. “You always wear frilly dresses.”

“Yes!” you exclaimed, enthusiastic and all smiles. You loved fashion so much; you were happy that Ony, who was also a fashion boy, noticed your new clothes. “My boyfriend said frills were childish, so I’m trying out a new style.”

The trio frowned and looked at each other, silently saying, “We should kill that motherfucker.”

“Break up with him,” Eren advised, his face hard.

You shook your head, your heart squeezing painfully at the thought of leaving the only man who accepted your autism without judging you. “N-No, it’s okay.” You looked at your feet, your lips trembling as you realized that the only reason you were with Jean was because he didn’t make you feel different from other girls, not because you actually loved him. You needed so much validation from others.

Ony caressed your thigh, sliding his hand up under your dress to grasp the plushness.

“Hey, it’s okay, baby. ‘Ren is kidding.’”

“I’m dead serious, man.”

Ony's gentle caresses on your skin relaxed you, and your autistic brain didn't really grasp that this was inappropriate contact between friends. You just thought he was being kind. Your face softened, and Ony took a perverse pleasure in exploiting your lack of understanding of social cues. 

After the chef prepared their meals, you brought them. As you placed the tray on their tables, you dropped a glass, which shattered. You apologized and bent down to pick up the shards, the skirt of your dress lifting up. Eren glanced at your ass, now visible to everyone, lingering on the way your panties molded your folds. His gut twisted in arousal.

“Connie, take a picture,” Eren whispered.

“I’m your lapdog or something? I only like orders from her, idiot,” Connie muttered but silently took a picture of your body under your dress. They had a whole dossier like that. Photos of you smiling at other customers, photos of you space-outing, photos of you studying in the university library… They were perverts. And stalkers. They didn't really care that it was wrong.

When you finally picked up your mess from the floor, you gave them a shy smile that accentuated their secret erections before walking away.

What a cute angel. You had no idea these men were devils.

────────

'I saw Jean with a girl at a frat party, I'm so sorry sweetheart I think he's cheating on you :((' 

Your stomach dropped when you saw Sasha's text message, your world crumbled in minutes. 

It wasn't possible. 

You and Jean had been together for two years. You'd experienced all your firsts with him. He was the first boy who didn't think you were too much, the first boy who didn't seem to see your autism as a burden, the first boy who made you believe that a weird girl like you could finally be loved. He couldn't have cheated on you. Jean loved you. He told you every day. You weren't too much for him. Please, you hope it was a misunderstanding. 

You got out of bed, where you'd been studying your botany books, and went to your closet. You'd never been to a frat party because your social anxiety made it difficult for you. Places where there were too many people scared you too. You preferred to stay safe in your apartment, in your bed with satin sheets and stuffed with plushies.

You slipped into a pink denim skirt, a matching bustier top, and your white Naked Wolfe platform boots. You let your long pale pink goddess braids cascade down your back, hoping your outfit was cool enough for a frat party and people wouldn’t overdose with all the pink on you.

Sasha sent you the address, and you left your apartment with a knot in your stomach.

A two-year relationship couldn't end like this. Jean loved you, right? You weren't some unlovable woman who was going to end up alone for the rest of her life, were you?

You clutched the strap of your bag, looking at the floor as you entered the frat house. You didn't want to see the sea of ​​students; it would trigger a panic attack. Rap ​​music blasted from the party's big speakers; maybe a Big Boogie song. People laughed and yelled along to the lyrics. The smell of alcohol, tobacco, and marijuana were everywhere, and you felt like you were in hell. There were too many stimuli all around you, enveloping you and making your brain confused, unable to function properly.

You raised your head, your heart pounding. You had to look around to find Jean. You inspected the ground floor, trying to ignore how your body stiffened when you brushed against the sweaty bodies of the dancers. You hated physical contact because of your autism; you needed to be in a comfortable environment to be touched because of your sensory issues. Sex needed to be gradual.

And then, as you climbed the stairs, reaching the first floor, you saw him. 

Pressing Mikasa's body against the wall, his head buried in her neck, his hips grinding into her.

You stood paralyzed, watching them, your heart aching.

You knew Mikasa well. She was a goth girl who was in the same major as Jean. You'd already seen them hanging out together, and Jean had told you she was just a friend.

You didn't yell that he was an asshole. You didn't try to separate them.

You turned around, went downstairs, and left the fraternity house to sit on the sidewalk.

Was it because she understood sarcasm and didn't need the same jokes repeated to her to get the humor?

Was it because she knew how to be quiet when she was passionate about something instead of yapping for hours about a topic nobody cared about, annoying everyone around you?

Was it because she didn't shut down when she was upset?

Was it because she knew how to recognize her feelings when she experienced strong emotions instead of being unable to speak and explain what she felt?

Was it because she didn't need childish things like plushies for comfort?

Was it because she was interested in grown-up things instead of being obsessed with dolls?

You wrapped your arms around your knees and let the tears flow.

As always, because of your autism, you never knew what you were feeling and struggled to identify your emotions. Was it heartbreak? You weren't even in love with Jean. He was just a boy who gave you attention when everyone else rejected you.

No, it was failure.

Failure because you were both not enough and too much. You just wanted to curl up in bed, hug your plushies tightly, and forget that you were an unlovable woman.

To make matters worse, a torrential downpour soaked your clothes, making them wet and sticky, sending shivers of discomfort down your spine. You hated it when your clothes felt too tight because of your sensory issues; it almost hurt and could cause meltdowns.

A flashback of Jean telling you he loved you in the missionary position and that you were his favorite girl intensified your tears.

Could you really blame Jean?

Who would want a girl like you?

A shy girl who was scared of eye contact, never spoke in public, and barely managed to hold a conversation without getting distracted.

You wished you were a normal girl. You wished you were better at hiding your symptoms. You wished you fit in more easily in society.

“Who stole your smile, mami?” A deep voice boomed in front of you, and someone flicked your forehead. You lifted your teary eyes and met Connie's gaze. Next to him, Eren had his hands in the pockets of his baggy jeans, his hood still pulled up, but you could see his concerned expression. Ony held a coat over you to keep the rain from soaking you even more.

You parted your lips, trying to speak, but no words came out. You felt so many emotions that your brain couldn't function anymore. You were happy to see them; they always brightened your day, but tonight, you were so depressed. You failed at love. You were unlovable.

The combination of your clothes clinging to your skin, the loud music blasting from the frat house, and your pain—you just buried your head in your thighs, ignoring everything around you.

Several muscular arms wrapped around you, lifting you off the ground, and when you raised your head, you were sitting in a car with them.

They drove for a good hour on purpose so you could calm down and refocus on your bodily sensations. The silence of the car calmed your distress for a moment, and you remained silent until they drove you to their apartment.

You were so depressed that you followed them without a word to their place, instead of asking them for a ride home. When you entered their living room, you sat on their couch, staring at the floor.

Eren casually slumped down next to you and put an arm around your shoulders.

“Where is my bubbly girl?”

“Dead,” you muttered.

He chuckled lowly.

“Don’t say stuff like this, I would be very heartbroken if you died.”

“I doubt it.” You were playing with the bottom of your skirt. “You will replace me easily like my boyfriend did when he cheated on me.”

Eren glanced at Ony, seeming to say ‘emotional stuff is for you, man’, and Ony sat down next to you. He placed his hand on your thick thigh, squeezing the plushness, his voice gentle.

“He cheated on you?”

You nodded, silently. There was nothing else to say.

“You don’t feel like you can change him and the need to go back to him like some abused women do?” Connie asked, standing with his hands in the pockets of his pants.

“Not really. I think it’s clear I wasn’t the right woman for him.”

“You mean, he wasn’t the right man for you,” Eren corrected.

“No.” You shook your head. “I don’t blame him.” 

Connie tsked.

“Princesa, you talk like those abused women.”

“Yeah,” Ony joined the conversation, “I don’t like how you’re talking right now, mama.”

 Your eyes watered again as you thought of all the reasons Jean was right to cheat on you.

“You don’t understand,” you sniffed.

Eren leaned against you, his warm breath caressing your neck as he spoke into your ear, his deep voice making you shiver.

“Then explain, sweetheart.” 

Ony kissed the tears that were running down your chubby cheeks, and you suddenly felt strangely cared for. Like a warm blanket over your bruised heart. Wrapped in gentle warmth. In the light of affection, not the darkness of rejection.

Maybe they'll understand if you explain? Maybe you weren't really alone in the world?

“I was homeschooled because I had school phobia,” you said shyly. They all listened attentively without saying a word. “I didn't understand the children around me, so it created anxiety. I didn't learn how to mask my autism because I was never in contact with the outside world and my parents were overprotective. So, I just… live my life without hiding my symptoms.”

“That's actually a good thing, you're sincere,” Connie commented, kneeling down to rest his head on your lap. You ran your hands over his bleached buzzcut, your autistic brain fascinated by the feel of his short, freshly shaved hair. Heat rushed to your cheeks when you realized you were the center of attention, making you even more timid than you already were.

“Not really,” you hesitated, “you need to mask your autism to fit in. Only people who want to be outcasts don’t mask it.”

“I’m an asshole, I don’t try to soften up for people, and I have a very good social life,” Eren grumbled, absolutely disagreeing with what you were saying. You didn’t need to perform a personality that wasn’t yours to be accepted; just being yourself was enough.

“That’s right, Eren is the worst person I know.”

Eren glared at Ony who had said that, his brown, lidded eyes shooting daggers, but Ony smirked at him.

“What’s your point, mami? Are you saying Jean cheated on you because you’re not masking your autism?” Connie ignored these two best friends, focused on your suffering.

Your breath hitched when you gazed into his eyes and saw only care, concern, and affection.

“I’m just saying… Maybe if I was a normal girl, maybe he wouldn’t—”

“You know what to do when a boy cheats on you?” He cut in.

You shook your head.

“You show him you’re wanted elsewhere.” He lifted the hem of your skirt to place kisses on your plush thighs, his lips soft against your skin.

“W-Wait,” his kisses made you tickle, “Connie, you’re—”

“Get revenge on that bastard with us.” Eren buried his head in your neck, and your body warmed as you felt his hot tongue on your flesh. Ony slipped his hand under your top to knead one of your breasts. His hand was so large it enveloped it perfectly, making you flustered.

Your brain was in overdrive. Just seconds before, you had been crying because you were suffering from your disability, and now three hot men were kissing and touching you intimately.

An hour ago, you would have pushed them away because you had a boyfriend, but now?

Your freaky side had awakened, your cunt throbbing at the thought of letting yourself be manhandled by three men.

“How do I get revenge?” You whispered, your voice sounding innocent as if you weren't squeezing your thighs together to hide the smell of your arousal from Connie.

“You know damn well, sweetheart,” Eren chuckled before catching a piece of your skin between his teeth and sucking it vociferously. A wave of heat snaked through your lower abdomen and up your upper body, warming your entire being.

Your cheeks burned, feeling slutty for even liking the attention the three men were giving you.

Connie took his phone out of his jeans pocket, turned on the camera to record a video. He spread your legs and lifted your skirt, filming your clothed pussy where a wet spot resided.

“You’re gonna show that dumbass that if he doesn’t want you, other men will take good care of you,” he asserted, rubbing his fingers on the darker part of your panties, making you shiver.

You didn't think Jean would really care if you were getting laid by other men; he'd already shown enough that he didn't give a damn about you. But you said nothing, because part of you was thrilled at the idea of ​​a foursome.

When you were 18, you had a list of things you wanted to experience once you were cured of your social anxiety. Group sex was one of the things on the list. You were a freaky girl, what can you say? It was time to make one of your dreams come true.

“You’re not gonna eat her out before me,” Eren pushed Connie’s head from between your legs.

“Nobody likes chubby women more than me, so yeah, I’m gonna eat her out first.” Connie bit Eren’s hand before nibbling at the inside of your thighs. “Right, baby? Nobody likes your body more than me?” He looked up at you, his voice sultry.

Before you could answer, Eren’s hand wrapped around your throat, pulling you closer. You gasped, your breath coming in the tightness of the pressure, and when you turned your head toward him, his intense eyes made you swallow hard. There was something terrifying about him in that moment.

“Don’t even answer his question, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. I love you more than him.” He crushed his lips against yours, forcing his tongue into your mouth. An electric current pulsed beneath your skin. You closed your eyes, enjoying the intensity of the kiss. There was something about Eren's intimidating aura that made you want to be an obedient girl, fulfilling his every desire and simply pleasing him. You moaned into the kiss, his tongue tangling with yours, kissing you as if he had something to prove. His hand tightened around your throat, making sure you knew who was in charge.

When he pulled away, your eyes fluttered open. His gaze was burning hot, and you almost wanted to tell everyone to leave so he could kiss you like that all night.

Ony's eyes narrowed when he saw the interaction between you and Eren. That bastard. Eren had always been possessive; it didn't surprise him that he was trying to monopolize you.

There had always been a kind of tension between the three boys. As many people said, there was always a duo in a trio, and that was the case with them. Ony and Connie always teamed up to annoy Eren, ragebaiting him and provoking his anger issues.

Now that they were in love with the same girl, it was a race to see who would be your favorite. Ony could no longer count on Connie to beat Eren; he had to assert himself.

While Eren was dominant, Ony was the gentlest man alive. Most of his exes had left him because he was too nice, but he wasn't heartbroken. He didn't want to become a bully like Eren to be appreciated for who he truly was. He was going to find a girl who would find comfort in his kindness, not get bored by his loving caresses, and be satisfied by his gentle side. He was determined to make sure that girl was you.

“Stop choking her, that's not how you treat the girl of your dreams.”

“I touch her however I want. She seems to like it, doesn't she ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚?”

You looked back and forth between Eren and Ony, silent before giggling softly.

“I like you both.”

“Nah, you need to choose someone.” Eren’s hand around your throat moved down to caress your pudgy belly beneath your top, and he sucked on your earlobe. Ony lifted your top to just above your breasts before leaning down to take your nipple in his mouth. You didn't even think about sucking in your stomach or trying to position yourself in a way that would lessen the sagness of your breasts. You were comfortable, felt pretty under their hands and lips, your body hot all over.

Connie slapped your thigh.

“Stop focusing on these useless men, mami,” he muttered.

He caressed your clothed core, making gentle back-and-forth movements that transformed into circular motions around your clit. His hot breath on you, his intense gaze, and his calloused fingers against you were an explosive cocktail that already had you trembling.

“Sensitive as fuck,” he chuckled. “Autism or you’re just needy?”

“Both,” you breathed shyly.

The wet patch grew larger as Connie played with your clothed pussy. A frenzy took hold of your body. The atmosphere was perfect, the touches were intentional and tailored to your needs; you didn't feel overwhelmed by the sensory stimulation. Ony's mouth on your breast, Eren's teeth on your lob, and Connie's fingers pressing against you… It was so simple, yet perfect.

You rocked your hips against Connie's hands. “I want more, please.” Your neediness was barely concealed in your voice.

Connie smirked. “Yeah? What does my girl want?”

"Um… You know what I want," you whispered, feeling so shy you would have hidden under the sofa if you could. Being a shy, introverted girl in a freak body was a nightmare. You wanted to be slutted out so badly but struggled to get there.

"You have no game, Connie," Eren mocked, his hand still gently caressing your stomach. His petty laugh was hoarse and sent waves of pleasure into your center.

Connie ignores his best friend and slowly took off your panties. You hated thongs and very thin panties with your sensory issues, you were glad nobody made fun of your plain pink cotton underwear.

When he looked at your bare pussy, he had the same glint he had when he called you a ‘tremendo mango’ at the restaurant. For many weeks, you thought it was a cute way of showing appreciation with a fruit metaphor before googling and realizing it was a compliment on your looks in Cuba.

“So pretty.” The tip of his fingers wandered over the gossy folds just to feel your wetness and touch your cunt swollen with desire and expectation.

“Do you like sexual stimulation?” Ony asked gently, his tongue curling around your other brown nipple.

“Isn’t that what we’re doing?” You said, clueless, shivering again at Eren’s open-mouthed kisses on your neck.

“I mean sex toys and temperature play.”

Your lips parted in anticipation.

“If it’s gradual and we stop when it’s too much, I think it’s okay,” you smiled.

Ony was jealous of Connie at that moment because he would have eaten you for days for that cute expression.

Ony left the room, already missing his tongue on your body. But Eren’s on your neck was divine. He wasn’t ashamed to devour your neck, sucking on the bits of skin he had caught between his teeth, making you dizzy.

Connie set up his phone so he could film you and have his hands free. He sank his fingers between your lips, parting them, and the way he inspected your flesh made you nervous, but the sensation was so good, he chuckled every time you clenched your thighs too much.

“Focus on the top, please, Connie,” you said, trembling with longing to feel his touch on your clit.

“Nah. You’re not dominant enough for my submissive side, I’m bored.” 

You widened your eyes as he withdrew his fingers and, in a panic, you grabbed his head, pressing it against your pussy. The vibrations of his laughter against you sent waves of electricity through your body, and when his tongue lapped through the folds, you saw stars. Ony returned with mysterious toys in his hands and glared at Connie, who had the chance to taste you first. You thought Ony was going to use the objects on you, but he sat down next to you and resumed sucking your nipples greedily, as if preparing you and testing waters. One hand on Connie's buzzcut, pressing it against you, the other on Ony's short black hair—with a fresh new fade because he doesn't play about his appearance, just like you (#besties)—you felt like a queen with her loyal maids existing to please you.

Eren had practically become a vampire with all the little bites he'd made on your neck.

"I could eat you up," he whispered, nuzzling you. "Why do you smell so good?" 

“Well, to make perfume last longer, it’s recommended to start with a cream and then layer it with oils, butters, mists, and even Vaseline so it lasts longer. You also need a perfume with a high concentration, not just an eau de toilette—” 

He bit you so hard you let out a pained moan.

“Nerdy ass.”

“She’s right, though,” Ony joined the conversation, leaving your nipples alone. “Men need to stop with cheap cologne and buy pure perfume. They buy Savage by Dior and are still surprised they don’t have game.”

“Not everyone is a self-care nerd like you, Ony,” Eren chuckled. “Opinion on Maison Crivelli?”

“You’re trying too hard to be niche, just buy Creed Aventus or some Armani stuff.”

“It’s $300, dumb ass.”

“You’re a rich plug, ‘Ren. But I would buy it for you if you weren’t the ban of my existence.” 

“Is this… What they call ‘bromance’?” you added to the conversation in a frail voice because the way Connie was eating you out… You tried not to make a fool of yourself by whimpering like a dog in heat.

“More like rivalry,” Eren said, mock-disdain in his voice.

“He’s jealous because I’m taking care of you while he’s hurting you with his teeth,” Ony teased, clipping a nipple clamp to your little finger to check if the intensity of the fixed pressure and tension wasn’t too overwhelming. After receiving your blessing, he clipped them to your nipples, the silver chain connecting them contrasting with your princess-like appearance.

It felt a little painful… but the pain was exquisite, a sensation you hadn’t experienced before. You were discovering a masochistic side to yourself today.

“She looks so pretty like this,” Eren murmured, staring at your body. “I feel like I’m going to ruin her if I touch her more.” He put a little distance between you to unbutton his jeans and free his heavy erection.

Connie stopped eating you out for a moment. He collected a lot of your arousal on his hand to spread it on Eren's dick, making masturbation easier. You looked at Eren, amazed that he wasn't bothered by his best friend touching his cock. He smirked.

"Brotherhood, baby." 

You burst out laughing but ended up moaning as Connie went back into business.

Ony and Eren glanced at each other, both captivated by the way you arched your back on the couch, your chest rising and falling, your lips agape.

Ony kissed your arm, along the length of it, as Eren shamelessly stroked his dick while staring at you.

"Ony, you need to fuck her first. I'm going to overwhelm her, I'll save my turn for last," Eren proposed, his voice raspier as his hand worked itself over.

"I like the way you're thinking," Ony smiled against your skin, happy to be the first. Connie's tongue traced around your clit. He was having fun. Sometimes he pressed the tip of his tongue against your clit without moving, to make you whimper; sometimes he made circles over it to make you tremble; or most of the time he avoided touching it so as not to overstimulate you and lapped through the folds. The combination of Ony's kisses returning to your neck, the nipple claws, Connie's tongue, and the sounds of Eren's hand rubbing together made you feel like you were overheating, until you finally exploded. It wasn't spectacular; your autism made you struggle to show big emotions on your face, but Connie and Ony caught the way your body was wracked with spasms and your lip was bitten.

"Now get out of the way." Ony pushed Connie aside, who was laughing at his best friend's excitement.

Connie got up from the floor and picked up his phone to be the cameraman again. Ony laid you down on the couch, resting your head on Eren's lap. Eren smirked at you, looking down at you, his erection just next to your shy face.

“Are we going to do double penetration at some point? Because I need to be prepared, it can hurt,” you said softly, anxiously. Your autistic brain needed to know all the preparations and plan everything in advance so you wouldn't be surprised when it happened. You constantly needed clear instructions and reassurance.

The three of them let out a quiet laugh.

Eren used the hand that didn't touch his length to stroke the top of your head.

“You are prepared, don't worry.” 

Ony removed his clothes, and your jaw dropped at the sight of all the tattoos that adorned his dark brown skin, making him look intimidating and even sexier now. He lay on top of you, the hard planes of his body pressed against your soft curves. You felt the definition of his muscles against you, the proof of his dedication to his sport.

His head above you, his beauty and his handsomeness made your cunt clench.

“Hey,” you whispered softly.

“Hey.” He smiled wrapping your thick thigh around his waist. “How do you want it, love?”

You wrapped an arm around his neck, pressing him against you. “Slow and deep.”

“I’m gonna give you that.”

“I’m not this filming this sappy shit,” Connie grumbled.

“Yeah, they are acting as if my dick isn’t aching right now. The fuck you mean slow?” Eren added.

Ony and you ignored them. He kissed you as he lined his dick to your entrance and pushed his hips in. Your eyes widened at the size difference with Jean, and glanced at Eren, who also had a large one. Feeling full, you had trouble breathing as he bottomed out, and then being able to do it again when he moved his hips backward.

Ony felt Eren’s jealous glare in the back of his head and chuckled.

“Take care of my friend, baby,” he commanded.

With your free hand, you jerked your wrist to jerk Eren's cock, while Ony fucked you. Eren let out a groan of relief at the contact of your hand.

“Such a versatile girl,” Connie teased, making you flustered.

Ony was a precise man. He hated jackhammering during sex. All his thrusts were calculated to please his partner, not just to ejaculate. He was gentle, but incredibly intense. Slow thrusts didn’t mean no hard thrusts. So he angled his hips perfectly so that every time he hit the depth of your pussy, he struck a sensitive spot that made your chubby body tremble even if his pace was slow. The way your curves jiggled with his every move was mesmerizing, and all three men’s eyes in the room were fixed on you.

Your hand ran along Eren’s length, squeezing sometimes, stroking most of the time, as you moaned because of Ony fucking you. His hips slammed so hard against you, feeling so good, while still being gentle; this man was crazy. How was that possible? You hugged him more, wanting to make love with him forever.

Eren’s hand twitched at the top of your head, his breathing ragged. He didn't even contain his arousal for long and let himself cum on your face. You let out a chuckle at the surprise of the action. Ony leaned down to lick some of it on your cheek.

“Why are all of you so gay?” you asked, confused.

“Shhhh,” Ony pressed his lips against yours, continuing his slow love making

“Okay, Ony your time is up,” Eren muttered, punching Ony in the shoulder. Ony groaned, not even that close from release but agreed to withdraw from you. Eren cleaned your face with a tissue before placing a kiss on your forehead.

You let them manipulate your body into whatever position they wanted. You were now sitting on Connie, who had given the camera to Ony, with Eren positioned behind you.

You knew Eren was aggressive. You could feel it in his aura and the way he spoke to people. So, as both dicks slid inside you, your heart pounded with the excitement of being manhandled. It took a little while to adjust to the two cocks inside you, but once you were comfortable, Connie murmured, "Kiss me." You leaned down to give him what he needed.

You rocked your hips, Eren's and Connie's hands on them for the moment. Eren was dangerously calm as you rode Connie, and didn't give him much friction. The sweat that had accumulated on your back intensified as you thought about when Eren would snap and show his true colors. 

“Boring,” he finally snapped, grabbing a handful of your braids and pulling them back, making you gasp.

On his knees on the couch, his hips moved back and forth at a punishing pace. Absolutely no attempt at a gradual rhythm to get you used to it; he didn’t care about your whimpers. He took what he wanted, when he wanted it.

Connie kept his hands on your hips, guiding them to gyrate on him. Sometimes, his hands moved up to touch your love handles, kneading your softness.

“The way we don’t need any lube,” Ony joked, moving closer to the trio, nudging his dick against your cheek while filming your flustered reaction. “You think you take three dicks inside you, baby?”

You nodded softly, wanting to please him. Eren released your hair to let you lean down to take Ony’s dick in your mouth. But Eren picked up the pace even more, hand on your back.

You almost choked on Ony’s dick with the aggressiveness of Eren’s thrusts, and the worst part was that Ony pushed his hips anyway. You looked up at him in surprise and he gave you a little smirk, zooming in on your betrayed expression.

“What is it? Your mouth is full of dick, you can’t tell me how betrayed you are that I have a bit of Eren in me. Poor you.”

Ony’s tone became more petty and you moaned on his dick, turned on by this new change of event. You hoped he would still have mostly his gentle side, but you don’t mind his mean side sometimes.

“Bounce that ass, bitch. You’re not doing enough for me,” Eren muttered.

Eren’s frantic pace made you gargling with Ony’s dick, the sound of it making the three men growl. Ony fed you his cock with quick snap of his hips, hitting the deepest spot you can take him. Connie played with your breasts and nipples clamps as he lifted his own pelvic floor to penetrate you deeper. Eren still stroked your braids even though he fucked you like he hated your guts.

The video continued to play, filming the spectacle.

But the camera will never be enough to understand the pleasure you were currently feeling. Hearing Ony groan because of you made you feel powerful. The fact that Eren fucked you like an animal made you let go. And Connie, who was a mix of both but in a submissive way, made you feel understood, since he saw your lack of confidence.

Everything was perfect.

But as always, your disability ruined everything. 

Maybe they'll get tired of you like Jean did because of it. You patted Ony's thigh to let him know you wanted to stop, and when the boys realized you were overstimulated, they stopped everything, including the video.

It was like you had needles everywhere, and even the touch of a feather was unbearable. Anxiety and discomfort paralyzed you. You couldn't speak until the sensory overload dissipated, and you just sat on the sofa staring at the floor, extremely embarrassed by how you felt in front of them.

────────

𝐚 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐡 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫…

They weren't making fun of you. They understood what was happening and turned off the lights to reduce sensory input and did breathing exercises with you. You begged them never to mention it again, it was so embarrassing and you felt bad about ruining everything, but they always reassured you that they didn't care.

Now, you were in a polyamorous relationship with them.

It happened so naturally. The day after they sent the video to Jean, you were bombarded with messages from him, but you ended up blocking him on Eren's orders. Sad about your breakup, Ony took you shopping with him, and Connie made you Cuban dishes that catered to your autistic food obsessions to comfort you.

After a few days, you had stopped thinking about Jean because you were always spending time with your new boyfriends.

They were all diametrically opposed, but all perfect for you.

────────

˚₊‧꒰ა 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 : 𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

This should have stayed private between you and Sasha.

When she asked you who your favorite boyfriend was, you told her you loved them all equally for different reasons, but that Ony was the one you felt the most cared for with.

One day, Eren was on your phone for some random reason, and Sasha sent you a TikTok about couples, saying, "That's so Ony, no wonder he is your favorite boyfriend."

You never saw Eren so angry.

No matter how much you explained the nuance of your opinion, he wouldn't listen and was deeply hurt that you were had a favorite in your relationship with them.

Connie was nonchalant, so he couldn't care less, but he wasn't helping to ease the tension in the apartment because Eren had been in a constant sour mood since the incident. During the week you made love individually, and on weekends you had foursomes, but Eren had stopped participating in anything.

Eren always played the bad boy, but he was one of the most emotional men in the world.

But, thinking about it, you understood why he was so hurt.

You and Eren had a somewhat special relationship. It had taken you weeks to get used to calling him by the word he wanted to hear from you, because it was new to you. But he deserved it. He lived up to the word. He had punched a guy at a frat party who had made fun of you for not talking much. He was the one who knew the signs of your sensory overload best. He gave you advice on how to earn more respect. He was all about making yourself respected, protected, and taken care of. A dad.

Of course, he was hurt that you felt more cared for by Ony than with him, just because Ony was gentler. It made him feel bad about his personality, about himself. He didn't want to be the favorite, but he didn't want to be one of the least liked of your quartet either.

“Eren, you're such a child,” you pouted when he continued to ignore you while he played Final Fantasy XV on the big TV in your apartment.

“You literally have stim toys,” he mumbled, not an ounce of gentleness in his voice, his jaw clenched.

“A real daddy wouldn't act like that.” 

That's when you annoyed him. He threw his controller onto the couch, abandoning Noctis character, and ran after you. You screamed as he charged toward you and started running all over the apartment. Instinctively, you went into his room—big mistake. Eren locked the door and grabbed your braids, pulling you against his muscular chest. Eren had a sleeper build, thin from the outside, a greek god once naked.

“And a daddy wouldn’t fuck his daughter so what is your point, huh?” Eren mumbled.

You nuzzle his hard chest, not finding the comfort you can find in Connie’s body which is less muscular and softer. “Connie is better for hugging, like a real daddy,” you teased him.

“Strip.”

“Uh?”

“You’re going to learn who is really taking care of you in this house.”

── .✦ 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫…

“I’m so sorry!” you cried, but it didn’t matter since Eren had pushed your face into the pillow. All your pleas, screams, and cries were muffled now. The only thing that could be heard was Eren’s ragged and your flesh bumping against each other. The backshots were crazy, and he wished he could send this to Connie.

“Sorry for what? Disobeying dad? Making fun of me? Be specific because you’ve been a really bad kid lately and it pissed me off,” he panted, picking up the pace, if that was even possible. 

Your tears soaked the pillow and intensified as he thrust into you. It felt so good; before Eren, you didn’t know you could have sex like this because of your sensory issues. But it was perfect. Eren didn’t change much. He would always be dominant, and you would always be submissive. He would always choose positions where he was in control, always slap you, choke you, and spank you. It was very brutal, but it was so comforting for you, autistically. You loved routine. Eren's brutality was comforting.

“I love you, I'm sorry for saying Ony was my favorite,” you sniffed, lifting your head as best you could so he could hear you.

“You're only sorry because I'm fucking you to make you say it.”

“No, I—”

“I love Ony. He is the smartest man I know. People only care about his athletic performance, but he has a brilliant brain, very strategic. However,” he grumbled, “my kid can't love him that much.”

“You're right, I'm sorry,” you repeated like a robot because you wanted him to turn you over quickly so you could kiss your favorite angry boyfriend. “You're perfect for me, Eren.”

“Uh,” he smirked, his pace slowing down, “I don’t remember being called this.”

“Stop trying to make me embarrassed. Our relationship is already very weird,” you whispered.

“Ah, you're a hypocrite now? It's just because Connie came back from college a few minutes ago that you're whispering. When he's not there, you easily shout “i feel it in my belly daddy”. You think I'm stupid?”

“Shut your damn mouth, oh my god!” you screamed, mortified that Connie knew what you and Eren had as a dynamic. Connie was a bastard, he was gonna make fun of a dynamic that is deeper than just sex.

A deep chuckle rumbled in Eren’s chest. He pulled your thighs back so that you were lying down and in a prone bone position. He nuzzled your neck. “I accept the apologies of my daugther.”

“Ewwww.”

“Acting you’re not into that shit.”

You laughed and he kissed your skin, making you shiver.

────────

˚₊‧꒰ა 𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧'𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

[messages from ‘princess’s harem 🎀 ’ group chat]

goofiestcubandick69 : i just heard our girl call eren daddy in bed ??????????

lamelo’s left ball : wdym daddy that boy can’t even handle his own emotions 

lamelo’s left ball : how he is gonna handle a kid

goofiestcubandick69 : thats what im saying

[...]

you : ummmm can yall forget this okay…….

worstpsychiatricpatient : im actually her dad tho

worstpsychiatricpatient : do you even know what is hyposensitivity in autism

lamelo’s left ball : you’re acting like that’s a fatal character flaw to not know

lamelo’s left ball : admitting you don’t know something is the first step to be smarter 

goofiestcubandick69 : no but do she knows you ate your own shit when we were at the nursery 

[worstpsychiatricpatient has left the chat.]

goofiestcubandick69 : yeah thats what i thought 

you : WTF ????????????????????

────────

˚₊‧꒰ა 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐝 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 : 𝐨𝐧𝐲 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Studying for exams was torture for your autism.

Exams disrupted all your routines; you now had to care about things you didn't care about, and you didn't dare complain to your boyfriends because you felt like you complained all the time. As if you had a monopoly on suffering. They suffered from exams too, and you didn't want to bother them with your usual autistic complaints.

You were trying not to burst into tears in the university library because of all the academic pressure and the sheer amount of material you had to study.

As you were reviewing your lectures’s notes, someone sat down next to you. A familiar scent of men's cologne made you stiffen as you looked at the person.

"Not sucking three dicks?" Jean smiled, but there was nothing warm in his expression.

“I’ll do what I want, you cheated on me,” you muttered, unsure of yourself, but like Eren and Connie had taught you to be more confident in your comebacks.

“You weren’t exactly the ideal girlfriend. They’ll leave you eventually and realize it too.” You looked away from the brown-haired man to your textbooks, your eyes welling with tears.

It was your biggest fear.

Being a burden to others. That’s why you tried not to complain too much about your autism so as not to bore your boyfriends.

You wanted your boyfriends to be able to talk about your personality first. About your love of pink. About your collection of perfumes and platform boots. About your knowledge of cosmetology. About your rare vintage clothes.

No, they had to tell all their friends during parties that you were autistic so no one would be mean to you because you didn't talk much because of not understanding the world around you and struggling to read the room.

You were chatty with your boyfriends because they had become routines. But anything new was difficult for you to understand, so you struggled to be yourself.

You shouldn't be ashamed of your disability, but a disability did what it did: it handicapped you in life.

"Many autistic people are happily married. My boyfriends are happy with me. You're the only idiot who can't leave me and prefers to be unfaithful," you said in a trembling voice before leaving the university library. You hoped your boyfriend were proud of you for standing for yourself.

────────

When sadness strikes, always turn to Ony. It should be a famous saying.

“Point in my life” by Gucci Mane was playing in the gym, accompanied by the sound of bouncing basketballs. You cheered Ony on as he made baskets for his practice. With each basket, you yelled, and he turned to look at you, laughing. The other people in the stands looked at you as if you were the male-centered protagonist of a romance novel, but you didn't care. Your baby, your man was surely going to be drafted this summer; he deserved all the praise!

When he finished his practice, you went to the locker room with him. You innocently watched all the men getting dressed in front of you, giving you strange looks, waiting to be alone with your lover.

Once alone, Ony d led you to the showers so you could get undressed.

 “What’s on your mind? I know these eyes cried, ma’. Don’t fool me,” Ony murmured, kneeling before you when you were finally naked under the shower spray.

“W-What are you doing?” 

He pressed your back against the shower wall and lifted one of your legs to his shoulder.

“You don’t know? Pussy eating therapy session.” 

You burst into laughter at the absurdity but quickly panted when he buried his nose and mouth deep into wet folds.

“I… I feel like I’m going to burn out from the exams. It’s just too much. I can’t sleep because it stresses me out so much, and on top of that, I’m not doing my usual routines anymore, so I’m not myself anymore,” you paused to let out a moan as his tongue caressed a particularly sensitive spot. “I cry all the time when I study, and I didn’t want to seem like an attention whore by talking to you about my problems.” 

Indulging in your arousal, he groaned at the scent of you; it made him lose his mind. He moved his tongue deeper, lapping at you, twisting it inside.

“I’m scared you, Connie and Eren will leaving me because of my autism.”

That made him stop completely, and he looked at you in horror.

“The fuck?”

Thinking about what Jean said made your eyes water, and fed up, you sobbed. Sometimes you laughed, sometimes you cried; these days you didn’t even remember yourself.

“Mama,” he said softly, rising from the floor to embrace you, kissing your cheek wet not from the shower but from your tears. “Who put these shitty ideas in your head?”

“M-My ex…”

“And what did I tell you about that motherfucker?”

“That he was stupid to look at any other woman but me.”

“Exactly, so why do you listen to him?”

“I don’t know, he was as loving as you all, and still cheated.”

“Being loving doesn’t mean shit. He never helped you during a meltdown. We did. A lot. I hope he dies.”

You widened your eyes. “Don’t say that!”

“What are you gonna do with your socially anxious ass to make me stop, huh?”

You pouted. “Nothing…”

“Right, now let me fuck you good, you need it.”

He lifted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist, as he stood pushing you against the wall.

He kissed you as his dick slid in, all his affection communicate through his tongue, his kiss, the way his hips slammed again you.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, your hands stroking his short hair under the shower jet which dampened it into tight curls.

“I feel so safe with you, Ony. Sorry for what I said, I trust you. I’m a bit tired because of school, I think,” you whispered against his lips.

“Yeah? You’re not gonna listen to this dumbass again?”

You shook your head.

“Proud of my sweet girl.”

────────

˚₊‧꒰ა 𝐨𝐧𝐲'𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

[messages from ‘princess’s harem 🎀 ’ group chat]

goofiestcubandick69 : are yall into public sex 

you : NO!!!!!!!!!!

worstpsychiatricpatient : yea

lamelo’s left ball : hell no 

lamelo’s left ball : nobody looks at my girl like that

goofiestcubandick69 : then why there is a rumor on the campus about our girl looking at naked men with you

worstpsychiatricpatient : thats even gayer than when he licked my cum

lamelo’s left ball : we masturbated together in middle school eren

[worstpsychiatricpatient has left the chat.]

goofiestcubandick69 : man you’re a child 

goofiestcubandick69 : and gay

goofiestcubandick69 : ony i didnt forget 

goofiestcubandick69 : you put MY girl with naked men 

goofiestcubandick69 : tf is wrong with you

lamelo’s left ball : why are we focused on ME when SHE was in my male locker room ?????

goofiestcubandick69 : mi princesa can do no wrong

goofiestcubandick69 : soy su perro 

you : exactlyyyyyy

[worstpsychiatricpatient is back in the chat.]

worstpsychiatricpatient : two dumb bitches telling each other ‘exactlyyyyyy’

[worstpsychiatricpatient has left the chat.]

goofiestcubandick69 : this man is true to his @

goofiestcubandick69 : don’t call mi princesa a bitch u motherfucker

goofiestcubandick69 : but call me a bitch if you want to i’m into that

you : ????????

lamelo’s left ball : he has the nerve to call eren gay

────────

˚₊‧꒰ა 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 : 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐞 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

If Eren was your angry boyfriend, Ony your gentle lover, Connie should be your sexy latino man?

That's what everyone thought about Connie.

On campus, the girls with a latino men fetish are interested in him because of his accent. His tattoos. His piercings. His immigrant status. He knows these white american girls well, girls who see latin America as a land full of sexy men, who think latin culture is just about aesthetics. So he created three phases to find the right people for him.

First, phase number 1, which attracts all the girls: The laid-back latino.

Sweatpants. Tattoos. Laid-back persona. Stoned out a lot. Hanging out with the university's plug Eren and the university's star, Ony. Calling any girl 'mami'. The girls love it, adore it, and can't get enough.

Then, he reveals a little bit of himself, and that's when things get out of hand. 

There's his "goofy" phase, when he shows how weird and funny he can be, even if it makes him less of a stereotypical latino man.

99% of the girls leave or get the ick.

That's how he knew you were the one because you never thought much of his goofy behavior sometimes and just went along with him. He feels so normal with you; he doesn't have to perform some racist stereotype with you, you just accept him with all his facets.

Now, he can finally show his final layer: his submissive side.

────────

Being the dominant one in the relationship was so much fun.

Of course, you liked being manhandled by Eren, or being praised by Ony.

But it was just as exciting as getting what your submissive man wanted tonight.

“Do whatever you want to do to me in my sleep. If I don’t wake up with you fucking me, I’m gonna blow up the apartment.”

You and Connie looked at each other during dinner, even when you were on Eren’s lap or in Ony’s arms. You both knew you were going to have fun tonight when everyone was asleep. You were going to have fun when he was asleep.

You crept into his room so as not to wake him. You climbed onto the bed and noticed he wasn’t wearing a blanket or a shirt. You chuckled; he was really waiting for this.

You leaned down to kiss all over his chest and abdomen, your tongue flicking around his navel piercing and all his tattoos.

His body shivered, but he didn't open his eyes.

You stripped him of the rest of his clothes and spat on your bare breasts, then smeared the saliva on the inside of your breasts. Your mouth watered at his hard pierced dick that reacted to your kisses. Big. Thick. Exactly the type of dick you wanted to rub your tits around.

You gently palmed his cock before placing it between your breasts. You added more saliva to your mess as you kneaded your breasts around him. The situation was oddly stimulating sensorially with the softness of your chest and the humidity of your saliva.

“Mami, I missed you,” Connie murmured, voice still sleepy as he rubbed his eyes.

You gave him an affectionate smile. “What do you want tonight?”

“Uh, you never learn? My body belongs to you. You’re the one who chooses everything.”

A fire snaked through your belly, igniting your insides.

You stopped what you were doing even though you saw disappointment in his eyes, but they lit up when you sat on his pelvis, sliding down his dick.

“Oh hell yeah,” he moaned, his hands coming to your hips but you slapped him.

“I didn’t say you could do that, Connie,” you chided him. “Put your hands above your head, I’ll slap you if you move them.”

His gut twisted with arousal, he absolutely nodded and obeyed with enamored eyes.

You couldn't say no to people but were able to slap your man, the duality of an autistic freaky woman.

You leaned down to stabilize yourself on his shoulders. Lifting yourself off his cock, you slid down again brutally, making him gasp and whine for more. When he whined too much, you slapped him and told him to stop. He almost cummed and bit his lower lip till it bled not to.

You did everything you wanted to Connie. A slow pace when your legs were tired. At fast pace, fucking yourself on his dick. Sometimes, you turned over and he thanked God women existed just to see your ass gyrating in front of him.

When you were the dominant one, you experienced less sensory overload during sex, that’s why you loved having sex with Connie so much.

You rode him, rocking your hips against him, your tits bouncing, looking like a voluptuous succubus who haunted him at night. It made him lose his mind, and spouting nonsense, his brain going dumb.

“Yesterday I genuinely cried because I wanted to eat you out but it was Ony’s day, so I ate so many sweets just to feel you on my tongue.”

Your heart fluttered and you leaned down to kiss him. “You’re so cute and weird, Connie.”

He forgot about the rules and just hugged his favorite girl ever.

────────

˚₊‧꒰ა 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐞'𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

[messages from ‘princess’s harem 🎀 ’ group chat]

worstpsychiatristpatient : how do you cope with the fact that your girl is a rapist

you : WTFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF

you : ???????????

goofiestcubandick69 : she cant rape me since i am her slave 

goofiestcubandick69 : my body is her propriety

worstpsychiatristpatient : not only my girl is a rapist

worstpsychiatristpatient : but she uses mind control

goofiestcubandick69 : exactly

goofiestcubandick69 : my mind is controlled by her

goofiestcubandick69 : i always think of my girl

lamelo’s left ball : i’m employed what happened

you : eren discovered somno

[lamelo’s left ball is now offline.]

goofiestcubandick69 : thats why i love ony

goofiestcubandick69 : he knows how to mind his own business

worstpsychiatristpatient : just so you know i called the police

worstpsychiatristpatient : mind u i’m the only one who have a real job and a dangerous one at that

worstpsychiatristpatient : so fuck u lamelo wannabe

────────

˚₊‧꒰ა 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 : 𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐬  ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

“Ma’, you’re going to hurt yourself.”

Ony took the star you were trying to put on top of the fake pink tree Connie had found on some niche website. He placed it where you wanted it.

“There is no way, it’s really the only color we will ever see at Christmas,” Eren grumbled, rummaging through the Christmas decorations you and Connie had bought weeks earlier, appalled by all the pink in them. “Christmas is green and red!”

“Well, it’s my girl’s world so I don’t care about Christmas rules,” Connie mumbled, taking a drag of his blunt, sitting on the couch.

“And you guys also have pink Christmas pajamas to wear!” you said excitedly, pulling out the pink pajama sets with snowflake patterns.

Eren winced, Connie gave a thumbs-up, and Ony chuckled. But they wore them all, just for your beautiful eyes.

It was going to be a fun Christmas, but you wouldn't trade places for anything in the world.

Because you were with the three loves of your life. In no particular order. Just the trio of your heart.