She giggled, leaning her head on his chest as she grumbled, “Hm. I don’t take lightly to threats.”

“Then you shouldn’t take lightly to promises either,” he peeked an eye open, “Cause that wasn’t a threat.”

“Suguru, always the grumpy one. Should’ve woken up your other half.”

The other half in mention was halfway off of the bed, one leg outside of the blanket as he snores deeply into the pillow. Satoru’s light hair covered his face, cheek smushed into the soft material as he groaned through each exhale.

“Should’ve,” Suguru grumbled, wrapping his hand along her hip as he tugged her closer, “Go back to sleep.”

She digs herself closer into his body as she smiles against his throat, “‘Kay.”

Smitten was one word to describe her feelings, two years of now being with the pair feeling comparative to a century she’d time travel for. Learning both Suguru and Satoru outside of church allowed her to see a completely different side of them—besides their first night together. They wanted to teach their congregation to also live within their truth, still being able to respect God and create their own relationship with him irregardless of beliefs, moralities, actions.

They were like angels within their occupation. Sweet, understanding. They wanted nothing more but to spread their opinions, always open to counter arguments and giving no judgment to anyone that came to them.

Hell, how could they be? It was almost performative.

Through all of their holiness, they were still…themselves. Fucking her like demons, cursing like sailors, if someone thought of it, they did it. It amazed her at all of the secrets they held just within their clothes. She was still getting used to the fact of having to share her attention with the both of them, the habit becoming more natural as time went on. Two years later and they were still the complete opposites.

But as she was getting to know them, there was…another part of their dynamic that she noticed. It was the way Suguru catered to Satoru. Always worried about him, making sure he ate, helping him pick out his clothes, caressing his face to get a better look at him. Satoru would lean into his embrace, playing it off as if they had the best bromance she’d ever seen. It was up until their third month of being together that she flat out asked—

“Do y’all fuck each other?”

Silence had filled the room. The confirmation was the soft tint along Satoru’s face at the question, and Suguru raising his eyebrow in amusement as he corrected, “I fuck him.”

She pressed her lips into a thin line, Satoru’s face swelling even more red as he covered his eyes and groaned. Okay then. Even in that shocking revelation, Suguru remained the quieter one. His face always told before his lips. He was gruff, honest, sometimes even a little mean. It was the frown in his eyebrows as he spoke, the baritone in his voice, his assertion. He kept everything to his control, ruling with an iron fist. Yet he adored Solana. He’d do anything for her, his protectiveness and possessive qualities being more overbearing at times, softening at the sight of this woman.

Then there was Satoru. Constantly making jokes, always smiling, feeling like a superhero when she giggled. He bought her anything she wanted. He kissed at her feet as if she were a princess, ignoring Suguru’s reminder of, ‘You spoil her ass too much,’ just wanting to see the dilation of her eyes when a new gift appeared. He was her security blanket, smothering her with affection Suguru didn’t always have.

Nonetheless they both were deeply in love with her. But as of recently, she felt a slight disconnect within her and Suguru. Learning that he was more introverted wasn’t the issue. He would eventually become extremely comfortable with her, wanting her attention at all times without saying so, inwardly tantruming if he didn’t receive it. His eyes would narrow over to watch as Solana and Satoru interacted, going from talking and laughing like best friends to making out and groping one another like lovers. Something in his eye would twitch at that. He wasn’t jealous per say—but maybe he wanted her attention just a little bit more.

If only Solana had known that before pressing his buttons the way she did.

She continuously whined about how they were so busy with work and wanted them to herself, hoping they could at least have a nice dinner together. Suguru and Satoru one upped her idea. Here they were now, vacationing in Cartagena, Colombia. They stayed within a loft along a more private part of the beach, two story and spacious for all of their activities. The only unfortunate issue was the one bedroom within the entire house—Satoru’s doing.

Just when she thought he had fallen back asleep, a soft groan leaves Suguru’s lips again as he grumbles to her, “I can’t stand this little ass bed.”

“Or maybe you’re both just too big,” she chuckles, leaning her lips against his jaw.

“Not my fault.”

“Don’t be pouty, Daddy. You don’t do it as good as me,” she pulls her face up to meet him, hearing as that makes him groan, tightening his hands along her body.

The newfound nickname had slipped from her lips a time they were deep in intimacy, but it only riled up something within Suguru—he loved it.

A hint of a smirk started to form on his lips as he replied, "I could devour your ass right now," he gruffly said, "but Satoru is still sleeping."

“Awe, like you actually care.”

His smirk now grew into a smile, his own amusement growing as she nuzzled her nose into his face. A small chuckle escaped him as he spoke, "You’re right. I don’t.”

With that, his hands started to wander across her body. It caused slight tickles on her skin as he clasped his fingers along her ass, dipping the tip of his fingers as he rubbed her clit from behind, pressing into the fabric of her pink laced panties.

Her soft gasp fell under his lips as he leaned down and kissed her, chuckling against her mouth as he flicked the lingerie above his knuckles.

“Suguru,” she whined softly, “You said you weren’t gonna wake up Satoru.”

“Can’t help it, baby. You’re so fuckin’ sensitive, you know that?” He grunted within her ear, his mouth trailing to her neck.

She pressed her fingers into his hair, moaning softly as she pulled him closer. They had only been in Colombia for a couple of days, and in those days Suguru fucked her at any given opportunity. Specifically without Satoru—she felt like he was beginning to do it on purpose.

“Seems like you’ve been wanting me to yourself more than usual,” she giggles softly, breath hitching as he hovers himself over her smaller frame, pressing his bulge in between her legs.

“I do,” he doesn’t deny, trailing his lips down her chest as he locks her legs over his shoulders, “Need you to feed me.”

“We can have breakfast soon—“

“You know what I mean. Stop playing.”

He flattens his tongue over the thin material of lace she wears, Solana’s lower body shivering as he widens her legs. He’s fast, already snatching them to the side by his fingers, burying his face in between the lips of her core before nuzzling his mouth up to her clit, groaning softly at her taste. She latches on for his hair, Suguru yanking her hand away as he intertwined their fingers together, Solana whimpering softly as she squeezed her palm against his.

“Always fuckin’ denying me,” he grunts, widening her legs even more as he struck his tongue out, sinking it into her opening, head moving back and forth as he did it in repetitions, twisting his mouth to find her g-spot.

Solana dug her teeth into her lip as she whined softly, “Not trying to.”

“So c’mon. Cum all over my mouth with your pretty ass pussy, baby,” he was sinful in his own right, knowing his words would immediately latch into her mind. He was evil that way. The bastard.

It wasn’t long before Solana brought her eyes down to watch him, hearing the semi-deep groans he made each time the end of his tongue disappeared inside of her, eyes locking up to hers as he slid one of his hands up her leg, locking it around her ankle. Her back slightly arched as she exhaled, another whimper falling past her lips as her opening relaxed, gushing out onto his mouth as she embarrassingly orgasmed. He’d been down there for less than five minutes. Her gasps were like a melody to his ears, his eyes growing darker with desire as he brought his face back up, roughly kissing her.

She kisses him back, nearly losing her breath to keep up with his mouth. He’s thrusting his tongue in between her lips, almost in a desperate need for her. She then places her hand along the side of his neck, pushing him back to get some type of air as she exhales, “I wanna wake up Satoru, I miss him.”

She felt him tense up at her words. Pressing his forehead to hers, a low growl came from his throat, gripping the skin of her hips before he gently released her. Although Suguru loved both of them equally, he knew there were times where she’d want Satoru more. It was a bit annoying.

As expected, his demeanor grew somewhat cold at the mention of his partner. However, he gave a small nod in response, reluctantly pulling himself away as he muttered, "Alright baby. Since you want the attention from that dumbass so badly, I’ll wake him.” The tone he carried held a touch of aggression in it as he spoke, however he pushed the feeling down as his hand reached up to rub at his face.

Solana giggled softly as she came from under him, hopping onto Satoru’s lap as she leaned into his neck, dragging her tongue against his throat to awaken him.

The feeling of her tongue on his throat caused Satoru to stir awake slowly, a small groan escaping him before he opened his eyes, his gaze falling upon the woman on top of him.

“Morning,” she murmured along his neck, feeling as his hands immediately slid upwards to her ass, gripping her up by the lace of the underwear she wore. Sometimes they were exactly the same.

Her voice against his skin caused a shiver to run down his spine, a small groan escaping him before he responded, “Morning, pretty baby,” he muttered back, his hands squeezing her ass lightly as he felt a small smirk grow across his features.

“Couldn’t help but come bother you, you look so pretty when you sleep,” she told him within his ear.

“I always look pretty,” he murmurs back, a deep chuckle rumbling his chest.

“So cocky. My cocky man,” she hums. Suguru then comes forward, stealing Solana’s lips into his mouth before he then takes Satoru’s, sucking his bottom lip before pushing his entire mouth into their kiss.

Suguru then replied, “Don’t make his head bigger than it already is,” a small smirk appearing on both of their lips.

Though, it quickly faded as he leaned up to press his lips to hers, his thumb tracing gently along her bottom lip as his deep voice rang in her ears, “I don’t like being ignored.”

She digs her teeth into her lip, adjusting herself along Satoru’s lap as she brings her attention back to him, “Me and Suguru are a little displeased about your choice of bedroom. Could’ve gotten a king bed at least.”

Satoru gives a small huff of laughter, his eyes looking back at her in the same amount of amusement. “What? I just wanted us to be as close as possible,” he teased, wrapping his arms back around her. He held her in his lap before flipping her onto her back, hovering over her with a playful smirk across his features.

“Is it because you two can’t keep your hands off each other?” he prodded, a chuckle escaping him as his face dropped down to press his forehead to her own.

She shook her head, “Nope. Cause you snore too loud.”

Satoru raises his eyebrows, “Hold on. Let’s not talk about anybody, human space heater. I’m sweating the moment I cuddle with you.”

“Oh you love it,” she rolled her eyes.

“Yeah whatever. Get off of me.”

They both hear Suguru say, “Please stop arguing with each other.”

She shakes her head, “I’m not arguing. Satoru’s always grumpy when he first wakes up, too. I don’t know who’s worse.”

A groan escaped Satoru, his forehead still pressed against hers as he muttered, “I am not always grumpy in the morning.” He slowly started to nuzzle further against her, inhaling softly as he responded in a slightly muffled tone, “I’m a ray of sunshine on a cloudy fuckin’ day, thank you very much.”

“Mmm, yeah whatever,” she mutters, wrapping her arms around his neck as she raises her tongue to his mouth. They were always so easily aroused by one another. Once again, Suguru was feeling that twitch within his eye.

Before Satoru could return the kiss, he felt her leave him, her lips being stolen away. Solana’s breath hitched as Suguru now had a fistful of her hair. He snatched her back to meet his chest as he said within her ear, “We’re gonna go swim,” mentioning the private pool within their loft.

She could feel the tension coming from Suguru, yet she ignored it. Turning towards him, her lips now hover over his as she grinned, “You always have such good ideas, Daddy.”

He smirked down at her before responding, “Now that’s what I love to hear, baby.” Leaning down, he brought his own mouth close to her own, his breath tickling her lips while he spoke in a low tone that held a hint of teasing, “I’m glad you know how to listen to me.”

“I can finally open that bottle of Cognac I bought,” Satoru mentions, “Let’s get fucked up!”

“I get the bathroom first!” Solana exclaims, jumping up from the bed as she beelined to the restroom.

It didn’t take long for her to get ready as she did her skin as well as hygiene regimen, onyx curls bouncing around her face and drawing down to her hips as she rubbed sunscreen along her body. She stood in the living room mirror now wearing a black bikini set—Kuromi designed within the triangle of her top as well as the front of her thong styled swimwear.

Satoru appears from within the bathroom, black button up shirt completely open and showing his hard abdomen with swim trunks, matching dark glasses along his face as he sprawled himself along the sofa. His grin spread across his face as he watched her get ready.

She raised an eyebrow as she asked, “Need something?”

“Not particularly,” he said, a hint of teasing in his tone as he replied, “Just enjoying the view.”

“How about you be useful and come help me tie this properly?” She suggested, staring at him through the mirror as she tilted her head.

A small huff of laughter escaped Satoru, a smirk growing on his face at her request. He slowly pushed himself up from his seat on the sofa, slowly walking up to come stand behind her in front of the mirror.

He brought his larger frame behind, his hands drifting up to her bare skin as he began to help her re-tie the bikini top, his fingers gently tugging at the fabric while his chin rested on her shoulder, speaking closely to her ear as he teased her.

“Your little ass is suddenly incapable of dressing yourself?”

“No, but it’s easier if you did it for me. Thought I was your princess, hm?” She reminds Satoru.

“A princess, hm?” he teased her, bringing his arms forward to wrap around her waist once again. He began to press himself against her back, holding her close to his own form as his chin continued to rest upon her shoulder.

He gave a small chuckle before he purred softly against her ear, “And what exactly do princesses crave?”

She sighs, placing her fingers atop of his arms as she leaned back against him, his breath chuckling within her neck as she drawled sarcastically, “Mmm, tiaras, pampering. Feet kisses, dick? All of the above, yes.”

A small, amused groan escaped him as he heard her sigh, her fingers resting upon his arms bringing up a small shiver through him. He brought his mouth closer to her neck once again, his nose gently nudging the skin there softly.

“I give you all that shit and more. The castle is just fine,” he murmured, a small smirk growing on his face at her words. He held her tighter against himself, using a hand to gently turn her head to the side, giving him more room to press his mouth against her neck.

She chuckled softly, her head leaning over as she allowed him to suck along her neck, a shallow breath leaving her lips at the feeling. Her attention was quickly pulled away as Suguru made his presence known with his heavy footsteps, her eyes turning as she saw a short glare along his face, yet another sense of him seemed adored by their interactions.

Even amongst how he felt, Suguru still found some level of entertainment in watching his partners interact, his feelings somewhat quelled as she turned to face him and acknowledge his presence.

He leaned up against the wall, a small smirk growing on his face as he took in the sight of them both, his eyes drifting over the way Satoru continued to press his mouth on her skin, holding her close against his body.

“Is someone being needy?” Suguru asked out, a soft tease dripping in his voice.

“Depends on who you’re asking,” she quickly replied, tilting her head towards him as Satoru chuckles.

“I’m not sure who I’m asking myself,” he replied back, his eyes drifting over her bare form before he pushed himself off the wall, making his way over to the pair.

“You’re both needy as fuck,” he murmured, his eyes now fixated on where Satoru continued to press his lips against her skin.

“Maybe we just miss you, you’re being a little standoffish,” Solana points out, Satoru leaning his head along her shoulder as he adds, “She said it, not me.”

She noticed the glances between him and Suguru, silence coming between them at her statement. Like usual, Suguru kept his thoughts to himself.

She wasn’t wrong. Yet the man in question didn’t want to admit that, simply giving a small huff of disagreement in response. He let his eyes drift between her and Satoru for a moment. A heavy silence fell between them before he shifted his gaze back onto her as he responded in a neutral tone, “Maybe.”

“Maybe the sun will make you feel better, yeah? You’ ready?” She asks Suguru, leaning her head back as she pressed a kiss to Satoru’s chin.

“I’ve been ready,” His eyes glance back over to Satoru before he adds on to his words, his tone sounding somewhat cool in tone as he spoke, “Just waiting on you two love birds,” beginning to walk downstairs to make his way towards the pool.

Solana frowns at his tone. Nonetheless, she sighs as she pulls away from Satoru, following behind down the stairs. The entire backyard of their loft was huge, crisp turquoise water gleaming under the sun as it also spouted from a small patch of rocks, chairs and tables also across from the water. They greeted the chef they’d hired for breakfast, thanking him as he seated a selection of foods out on one of the tables for them to eat. Between fresh fruits, juices, pancakes or waffles, bacon and other choices of meat made their stomachs grumble at the sight.

The moment the chef left the house, Satoru and Solana made it their own party. Suguru sat along the table as he had his attention on some pineapples, glancing down at his phone to make sure their employees didn’t need anything from them while they were gone. His eyes would amusingly glance over to the pair, seeing as they were on the opposite side of the pool, Satoru tilting his head over Solana’s shoulder as she tried to connect her phone to the speaker in the house.

“What’s her name again? The one you played last night?”

“SZA?” Solana raised an eyebrow, unable to hide her amusement.

“Yeah, her. She’s pretty.”

“We have the same name, you know.”

His eyes slightly widened, “Your parents' brains are like—huge. So smart to name a pretty girl after another pretty girl. Play her music. It’s cool. Or you could play that other song I like.”

“Which one?”

“The one you played earlier!”

She raises her eyebrows, eyes slightly widening as she says, “Cognac Queen?”

“Yeah! And I have a bottle of Cognac right now!”

“Please don’t tell me you like rap now. I will scream if I hear you reciting the lyrics.”

“Can you just play the damn song?”

“Okay, Satoru,” she chuckled.

As she clicked on a playlist, they were now running around the pool like children, enjoying their time together as Suguru continued to watch from afar. Satoru held his bottle of Cognac with one hand as he pushed his shades up with the other, playfully grinding the air as Solana giggled that he was off beat of the song. She snatched off his shades, running to the other edge of the pool as waited for him to chase after her. A devilish look came along his face. He sat his bottle down, running over to her as he locked his arms around her body before throwing her over his shoulder. Solana shouts as he twisted them both under the water of the pool, the splash thundering along the loft.

Satoru now held her on the steps of the pool, sitting her along his hips as he groaned, gripping the skin of her ass with his fingers as he spoke within her ear, playfully bouncing her along his lap. Solana giggled as her face flushed a tint of red, wrapping her arms around his neck as she kissed his cheek. The sight of Suguru quietly along the side lines now took her attention.

When Satoru noticed as well, he kissed her chin before he stood from the pool to go talk to him. An equal irritation came from Satoru as he could tell something was off, snatching the phone out of Suguru’s hand as he looked down at him, “We’re on vacation for a reason, Suguru.”

“I’m fine,” he flatly tells him.

“What the fuck is with you today? Seriously,” Satoru frowns.

A small groan escaped Suguru, his eyes looking everywhere but at Satoru as he responded, “Nothing, I’m fine. Leave it.” He began to get back on his phone, intending to be done with the conversation, only for Satoru to reach out and grab him by his arm, forcing his attention.

Satoru prods, “I know you’re not feeling some type of way about me and Solana. Cause that would be stupid as fuck.”

To hear Satoru state his actual feelings out loud, especially to call it stupid, only made him grumble out a response, “Nobody’s jealous, alright?”

“I didn’t say that you were. But in this case, you better not be,” he tells him, “She’s yours. And mine. Remember that.”

“You don’t have to remind me,” he sharply replies, pulling his arm out of his grasp as he crosses his arms across his chest. “She’s our girl, I know.” He spoke lowly, the words coming out in a somewhat bitter tone as he added under his breath, “Sometimes I’m not too sure that you remember it though.”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” Satoru raises an eyebrow, eyes drifting over to Solana that has her attention in her phone.

“You know damn well what I mean,” Suguru snapped, giving him a cold glare as he spoke up once again. “All you ever do with her is tease, make her laugh and get her riled up. You always have her attention and she just goes along with it. Where does that leave me?”

“It leaves you any space and opportunity to come join us. You choose to separate yourself as soon as you feel like the attention falls off of you. Don’t be a brat, you’re not good at it,” Satoru snaps at him.

“Bullshit,” Suguru snapped back at Satoru’s words. “You get pissy anytime I try to insert myself into whatever you two are doing. It’s like you go out of your way to get a reaction out of me.”

“You know that’s a goddamn lie, Suguru. I never have an issue with you inserting yourself in our moments, otherwise this wouldn’t work. She craves your attention. But we both know how you get. When you’re feeling some type of way, maybe it’s easier to steer clear of you rather than approach your attitude, did you think about that? She’s not stupid, she sees something is wrong. Stop being a bitch about the situation and snatch her attention if you want it so badly.”

Sometimes, Satoru also forgot the submissiveness he held when it came to Suguru. Saying the one insult he just knew would set him off. They’d never got into physical fights. Anytime Suguru felt like he had to put Satoru in his place, he had…other ways of doing so. The minute Satoru said those words, Suguru raised an eyebrow, a smirk coming along his face. He nodded his head, saying nothing else. For now.

Solana senses the tension coming off both men, Satoru smacking his lips before making his way inside, muttering something about the bathroom.

She comes towards Suguru as she asks quietly, “Can I sit?”

He runs his fingers through his hair, nodding his head as he leans back, adjusting his hips and spreading his legs. She sits along his lap, digging her fingers gently into his scalp as she mutters, “Touch me. I miss you.”

“Yeah? You miss me?” he asked, his touch becoming slightly possessive as he held her tight.

She nods her head, “Mhm,” pressing her lips along his neck, feeling his body tensed from him and Satoru’s previous conversation.

His body became slightly more relaxed as she began to kiss along his neck, letting out a soft grunt of approval as her lips touched his skin. He continued to hold her tightly against him, his fingers still tracing soft patterns across her body.

He let out a small sigh, tilting his head to give her better access to his neck before speaking in a low tone, “You feeling okay, princess?”

“Just needing you, Suguru,” she tells him quietly.

A groan was heard in response to her words. She knew exactly what to say to get his attention, even when he was at his most irritated.

“You’ve got me, pretty girl.”

She smiles, wrapping her arms around his neck, “Good. I was thinking that we should all dress up tonight and go to one of the restaurants by the beach. Spend some quality time together, I think we need it, yeah?” She suggested, nibbling along his jaw.

“Yeah, we should. That’s nice, baby,” he murmured in response, his arms holding her tighter.

She picked up her head, seeing the light frown within his face. She pressed her thumb along his lip as she said, “Stop frowning. You always look so scary.”

“I can’t help it,” he replied in a grumble back, his mouth opening to lightly bite at her thumb as she continued to gently press against his lips.

If one thing Satoru was right about—Solana wasn’t stupid. She wasn’t in a complete lala land when she was around the both of them, she knew that Suguru was more possessive than Satoru was. She didn’t mind it, but she never wanted that to get in the way of their relationship.

She rolled her eyes as she then reminded, “You know I’m yours, right? I don’t have your name tattooed on my ass for shits and giggles.”

On cue, his large palm ran down to the skin of her ass, gripping softly as he knew exactly where his name laid. Her tattoo was a constant reminder to him that in a way she did belong to him, and now her speaking about it with such bluntness made his attitude fade away further.

“I know that. You only call me Daddy for a reason,” he responded back with a smirk, his fingers now rubbing small circles into her skin with his thumbs.

She raised an eyebrow, “So you do pay attention.”

“Of course, baby. I always pay attention.”

“Well if you paid attention so well, can you stop being mean towards Satoru?”

She sees his impatience flicker again, a pout coming to her lips at that.

He leaned forward, placing his forehead against hers as he mumbled out a response, “I’ll behave.”

“You saying you’ll behave, hm? It’s a cold day in hell,” she murmurs.

“You’re a little mouthy today. You need to be reminded of your manners or something?” He raises an eyebrow.

She presses her face deeper into his neck as she gives him a peck, rolling her eyes as he slams his palm down on her ass, muffling a soft, “No.”

He could feel her rolling her eyes. He hums at her response, his eyes narrowing slightly as a smirk tugged at the corner of his lip. He knew that she was being slightly bratty. He’d been dating her long enough to tell exactly what her tone meant, and it only made him more amused.

“No?” he repeated, his tone sarcastic as he raised an eyebrow. “I think you’re asking to have your pretty mouth filled with something else besides smart ass remarks.”

She blows out a breath, lifting her head as she corrects herself, “Sorry, baby. I just want you two to get along.”

She was trying her best to soothe the tension between the guys, and he could see that it was important to her that they made up.

He gently placed a hand on her cheek, stroking his thumb across her skin as he spoke with a softer tone, “Yeah, we’ll be okay, baby. I’ll ease up on him.”

With him saying that, a flicker of something else came along his face. It was as if ‘easing up on him’ had other intentions behind it.

She raised an eyebrow, “You sure? You got that little look in your eye.”

“What look?” he replied, trying to feign innocence in his response. “I don’t know what you mean.”

The moment that Satoru reappeared, a smile appeared on his lips as he raised his Cognac bottle, “Who wants a shot?” As if he’d completely forgotten about the previous situation.

She looks back at Suguru as she wavers, “Mhm. Okay,” bringing her attention to Satoru as she says, “Me!”

Now that the mood was better, Suguru actually joined them within the water as they splashed each other, swinging Solana around and playing children’s games until the sun began to set. Playing around within the water and taking shots instantly made Solana sleepy again, Satoru chuckling as he carried her back into the loft and placing her along the sofa with a blanket atop of her body. Her eyes briefly caught as Suguru eyed Satoru, initiating for him to go into the bedroom with him.

She figured maybe they would actually express their frustrations towards one another rather than let it go up in the air, hoping that would reset the entire vibe of the trip.

It was now eight at night when she woke up again. Adjusting her eyes to the darkness of the room, she raised her body as she rubbed her eyes, trudging over to the door of their bedroom that shined a dim light into the living room.

But just as she was about to fully push the door open, she halted all of her movement. Her eyes widened at the sight between the cracked door. Suguru hovered above Satoru, his body deep within the sheets as Suguru had a grasp of his light hair from behind, hips connecting with one another harshly.

The room was silent other than the sound of the two men panting through their low moans as they continued to move against one another, their bodies flushed closely together as Suguru’s fingers continued to grip into Satoru’s messy hair.

A small groan escaped Suguru as his lips were occupied against the skin of Satoru’s neck, leaving bite marks along the sensitive skin as his hips moved against the other man’s in a rough motion.

It was rare for them to be intimate without Solana anymore, but as she watched, it seemed as if Suguru leaned into him, gripping harshly with an evil grin, a determination along his face. A dominance. A reminder.

Suguru knew he was being rougher with Satoru at that moment, taking his body however he wanted to. He knew he was being mean. But he didn’t care. He felt justified in his actions as his grip on his hair became tighter, another soft moan falling from the other man’s lips.

Solana stood there, watching. Seeing Satoru in such a submissive state, a whimper breaking from his lips as Suguru spoke deeply within his ear, it caused her thighs to press together, body becoming hot as she watched in complete silence.

Suguru’s voice was low and firm as he spoke close to Satoru’s ear, his tone dominant as he told recited, “Stop being a brat, huh? That’s what got you in this position in the first place, yeah?”

Suguru reached around, grabbing for the front of Satoru’s throat as he slammed his hips down into him, Satoru’s face within the pillow as he made sounds she’d never heard before. He was mewling. It made a soft whimper leave her own lips, covering her mouth as she watched Suguru…handling him.

He continued to hold Satoru in an almost deadly grip, his fingers wrapping around his throat before his hips slammed down again, a moan escaping Satoru as his face was pressed into the pillow. He continued the harsh pace of his movements, “You’re being so good for me now, aren’t you? Taking my shit like this.”

Satoru’s body shook as he released, reaching back to Suguru as he tried to slow his movements. As she listened to their voices together, she placed her body along the wall, slowly running her hands along her own flushed skin to calm herself.

He chuckled softly as he heard Satoru’s voice become somewhat whiny, his tone returning to more of a mocking one as he spoke, “Can’t take it, pretty boy?”

He leaned forward, kissing Satoru between his shoulder blades slowly before eventually pressing their lips together, his hold on his hair becoming gentler even as he continued to maintain his dominant attitude.

He felt Satoru shudder as their kiss continued, his hand gripping at his hip as he spoke between their lips with a somewhat mocking tone, “Are you gonna behave now?”

Holy hell. He wasn’t playing. Satoru only gruffly nodded his head, pressing his face into the sheets. She took this moment to make her way back onto the sofa, pulling the covers over her hot body to play off that she was still sleeping. She continuously heard Satoru’s voice, panting heavily as Suguru chuckled, her ears hearing as they shared another kiss between their lips.

Her eyes squeezed shut as she relaxed herself, hearing as the door opened to the bedroom. She immediately recognized the footsteps to be Suguru’s. He wrapped a towel around his lower half, pulling the band off of his wrist as he quickly wrapped it around his hair to a low bun. Solana slowed her breathing, making sure to perform her sleeping correctly.

He took a moment to straighten his own appearance, his eyes glancing over at the figure on the sofa as he heard her even breaths. His eyes lingered for a moment before he walked over, sitting down next to her “sleeping,” form. He chuckled to himself as he realized how obvious she was being, knowing that she was definitely awake and listening.

The moment she felt him touch her, she slowly twisted her body towards him, rubbing her eyes tiredly as she whispered, “Hi.”

“Hey, sleepy head,” he replied back, his tone somewhat amused as he continued to look over at her. “Have a nice nap?”

“Mhm,” she nodded her head, shifting her face into his neck as she muffled, “Still sleepy.”

He raised a hand up and stroked her hair back as she mumbled against him, his eyes shifting to glance towards the bedroom as he remembered what he was just doing moments ago.

“You’re always sleepy yet you do nothing,” he responded.

“Rude,” she grumbled. She brought her eyes up to him as she then asked, “Are you and Satoru okay? Did you guys talk?”

“Yeah. We talked.”

“Okay,” she muffled tiredly, “Ugh. If I keep sleeping my heads gonna hurt. I’m a little hungry. Can we start getting ready to go eat now?”

“You are a damn bottomless pit,” he said in a teasing manner, “But yeah. I’m a little hungry too.”

“Rude again,” she grumbled softly, “Is Satoru coming?”

She wanted to facepalm herself. She wouldn’t have known Satoru was asleep if she wasn’t listening.

“Yeah, he’s coming with us,” he replied. He was amused that she continued to feign ignorance in her questions, his tone somewhat teasing as he added, “You’re cute when you lie, baby.”

Her face becomes warm. She rolls her eyes as she mutters, “I wanna go wake him up,” going into the bedroom as she flopped onto the bed, climbing under the covers as she sneaked her way beneath Satoru’s body. She hummed again, “Hi.”

As soon as he entered the room, he saw her crawl underneath Satoru’s body, unable to stop the amused expression from appearing on his face at the adorable sight. Satoru slowly shifted as he felt her crawl under the cover before he mumbled out, “Hey.”

“Missed you, baby,” she whispered, kissing the skin of his arm.

Satoru let out a soft chuckle as she kissed the skin of his arm, his head tilting as he slowly became more alert at her voice. He turned himself over onto his side as he looked down at her with tired eyes.

He leaned down to press a kiss against the top of her head as he murmured, “Missed you too, princess.”

“We’re gonna go have dinner. I want everyone to dress nice,” she tells him, running her fingers through his light and messy hair.

He hummed softly as she spoke, his tired eyes closing as he enjoyed the feeling of her fingers running through his hair. It was a relaxing feeling, and he almost fell back asleep for a minute until her words registered in his mind.

He slowly opened his eyes again as he looked down at her, lifting an eyebrow in response. “You want everyone to dress nice?” he asked, his tone slightly teasing. “Are you saying I don’t always look good in whatever I’m wearing?”

“Oh don’t start. I don’t know what’s bigger, your ego or your dick.”

As he goes to open his mouth, she cuts him off, “Don’t answer that. Anyways, I’ll go shower and you can rest a little bit more. You can join us later if you want,” she looked at Suguru teasingly.

“You know which one is bigger,” Satouru mumbled anyways, adjusting himself deeper into the bed.

Suguru smirked in response, nodding his head at Solana’s words as she kissed Satoru once more, pulling Suguru by his hand as they made their way into the bathroom. It was completely spacious, the shower having no walls as it was big enough for more than two people to stand under it. The marble of the interior was green, water dropping down from the ceiling or from the rectangular shower heads on the other side.

“It’s so pretty in here,” Solana hums, “Pretty like you,” she grins, wrapping her arms around his neck as she stands on her toes, kissing his jaw affectionately.

A small scoff escaped him, “Now you’re just kissing ass,” his hands instinctively landing on her hips as she stood on her toes to reach closer to him.

“Maybe,” she giggled as he picked her up, spinning her under the shower head as he turned on the water. It’s the perfect temperature as it flattens her curls, hair reaching down to her tailbone as she pushes it out of her face.

She turned towards Suguru, raising her fingers to his hair as she told him, “I need to wash your hair. It’s been a while.”

He hummed in agreement as she spoke, allowing her to reach up and run her fingers through his hair. It had been a while since they had a moment like this, and he found himself enjoying the simple intimacy between them.

She reached over as she grabbed the bottle of shampoo, shaking it before squeezing it along the top of his head. She stands on her toes, beginning to wash his hair as he leans down to reach her height. As she washed, his hands came around her, clasping her ass within his hold. She squeaked softly, “Stop it, nasty!”

He enjoyed the feeling of her fingers massaging his scalp, the feeling of her nails softly scratching against his skin. He chuckled softly at her squeak, “What? I’m helping you keep your balance, princess.”

“Yeah, whatever,” she chuckled, beginning to rinse the shampoo out of his hair.

Silence filled between them as she took a deep breath, clearing the quietness as she spoke, “Can I ask you something, baby?”

“Yeah?”

“…Were you and Satoru arguing about something in particular? Or were you just annoyed with each other?”

His expression became more thoughtful as he reflected on the way he had handled Satoru earlier. He was silent for a moment, debating whether or not he should tell her the reasoning for their argument. He sighed softly before deciding to be truthful with her, his expression remaining calm as he answered, “We were arguing about you, actually.”

She raised her eyebrows, “Me? Did I do something?”

He chuckled softly at her reaction, shaking his head gently as he spoke, “No, baby. You didn’t do anything, not at all.”

He sighed again, his expression growing more serious as he continued to explain, “Satoru was just being his usual self. He was being impatient, not listening to what I said. It was pissing me off.”

“Or were you also being your usual self and wanting everything your absolute way, Suguru?” She tilts her head. Solana knew that her mouth would get her in trouble at times, but it never stopped her from being honest.

“My ‘usual self’, huh? You have quite the attitude at times for someone so damn little,” he retorted back, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked down at her.

“That’s fine. The difference is, I’m honest about when I’m being bitchy. You however, don’t.”

When he raises an eyebrow at the term, ‘bitchy’ she quickly corrects, “You can be just as stubborn as Satoru.”

He took a step closer to her, closing the space between them in the shower as he spoke, “Watch your mouth, Solana.”

She brings her arms around his neck as she asks, “Can you wash my hair now?” She blinks her feline eyes, fluttering her lashes distractedly. A small giggle leaves her lips as he takes a firm grip of her hair, twisting her around to face the opposite of him as he grabs for the shampoo.

“You’re a little pain in the ass,” he tells her, lathering the product within her equally onyx hair.

“You love me,” she reminds, “But I just hope you and Satoru are okay.”

His tone became more thoughtful as he replied, “We’re fine, baby. It’s not the first, and it won’t be the last argument we have.”

She sighs out, blowing a breath as he pecks a small kiss to her neck. She then began to ramble to fill the silence, “Anyways, I’m thinking about wearing this green dress I bought at the boutique by our place.”

Here was another small issue that only occurred for this circumstance. One of Suguru and Satoru’s biggest rules for Solana was the way she dressed when they went out together, specifically that they needed her to show them anything she bought whether it was revealing or modest. She always had an issue with that rule, not sure if it was a protective thing or them being entirely possessive, or just wanting to put on a show for others around them. She felt his body tense at her words.

He let out a soft sigh, his fingers stilling in her hair as he spoke with a hint of authority, “You know the rules, princess. You have to show us the dress before you wear it out. Especially if it’s revealing.”

She didn’t say anything at first, the silence coming between them before she then muttered, “I’m not a damn child.”

His irritation started to rise at her snarky comment.

“I never said you were a child. I’m just reminding you of our rules,” he replied firmly, his voice growing more stern. He began to massage the shampoo into her hair again, his eyes narrowing slightly as he waited for her response.

“Whatever.”

She felt Suguru tense up even more, his face coming around to look at hers with a raised eyebrow. Before he could say anything, Satoru came into the bathroom as he found them together. He could instantly feel the tension, tilting his head as he asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing—“

“Solana bought a dress from that stupid ass boutique by our house. Have you seen it?”

“No.”

“Oh, okay. That’s what I thought. Now she’s talking shit that she’s not a child and has an attitude,” Suguru irritatedly explains.

Satoru raised an eyebrow, then glancing over at Solana. He hummed softly as Suguru finished explaining, a smirk appearing on his face as he spoke, “So let me get this straight. You’re getting mad at Suguru for reminding you of our rules? The rules that we discussed and all agreed on?”

“I’m not mad about anything, I just simply said I wasn’t a child and that I didn’t need the both of you breathing on my neck anytime I make a damn purchase,” she tells him, crossing her arms as Suguru continues to wash her hair.

Satoru chuckled softly, his smirk widening at her answer. He loved how stubborn she could be sometimes, but at the same time, he also didn’t like the attitude she was giving.

“It’s not about us ‘breathing down your neck’, baby. It’s about communicating effectively with each other, and making sure that you don’t wear things entirely inappropriate. We’re just concerned. Is that too hard to comprehend?”

“What the hell is showing you the dress gonna satisfy?” she frowns. She lightly pulls away from Suguru’s hands, his grip tightening as he pulls her back by her curls, warning silently not to push him further. His anger was radiating off of him.

“It satisfies us to know that you’re not wearing something that’s inappropriate,” he replied firmly, his eyes going over to Suguru for a moment before he spoke again. “And it’s disrespectful for you to argue when we’ve made it clear what our expectations are.”

“Expectations? Please, kiss my ass,” she then turns to Suguru, “Can you just finish washing my hair?” narrowing them as she speaks. Suguru’s face twitches.

He opens his mouth to essentially crash out on her, Satoru immediately stepping in, taking over as he begins washing her hair himself.

He was now actually pissed off. He then smacked his lips, turning away from the both of them as he began washing his body on the other end of the shower. Solana could give less of a damn about his attitude, leaning back as she allowed Satoru to rinse her hair. She kept her eyes closed as she asked him, “What are you wearing to dinner?”

“I’m not sure yet. Probably a black shirt and some slacks. But knowing Suguru, he’ll end up picking out something he thinks looks better on me.”

Suguru overheard their conversation, rolling his eyes as he began to rinse off his body. He huffed softly, feeling slightly provoked by Satoru’s comment.

“Hm. Seems like I’m not the only one with that issue then,” she mutters, “Anyways, I’m wearing my green dress, as I said.”

Satoru then suggests, “What about that one black dress?”

“Why are you suggesting something else?” She asked.

“Because it’s clearly a problem for the both of us,” Satoru replies.

“A problem to y’all,” she clarifies, “Not me.”

Suguru finished rinsing his body, his hands running through his hair as he spoke, “Excuse me if we, your boyfriends, don’t want other men staring at your ass in public.”

“Oh? You’re returning back to the conversation?” She raises an eyebrow, coming around Satoru as she snatched herself away from his hands.

“How about you show me the dress and stop talking out your fuckin’ ass?” Suguru glares.

“You could’ve asked that way earlier. You’re judging and yet you don’t even know what the goddamn dress looks like,” she sneers.

“I don’t need to see the dress to know that it’s probably too goddamn revealing,” he retorted back firmly, his tone growing more irritated by the minute.

She stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around herself as she went out of the bathroom for her suitcase. She pulled the dress out as she raised it above herself, walking back into the bathroom. It was long sleeved, a low v reaching to her belly button to show off her breast, a slit high on one side to show off her legs, the color a sage green. Suguru looked instantly appalled.

“Have you lost your fucking mind? You’re not wearing that.”

“You let me have my ass out any other time, what the hell is the difference now? Wanna look good for the magazines and cameras, make sure your stupid ass reputation is upheld?” She glared.

"This isn't about the media or our reputation," he replied through gritted teeth. "This is about your lack of respect for us and our rule. You know damn well the types of things men will think when they see you in that dress."

“I’m not wearing the fucking dress for anybody but myself!” She exclaims.

“Who the fuck are you raising your voice at?”

“I’m damn sure not talking to Satoru!”

He was close to tearing her ass up then and there. He’d never been this at odds with her, and he didn’t enjoy one second of it. As Satoru went to open his mouth to diffuse the situation, Suguru’s anger took over as he finalized, “Wear the fucking dress Solana. So help you or any motherfucker that stares, I will break their fuckin’ neck.”

He left out of the bathroom, Solana jumping as the entire house shook from him slamming the door behind himself.

Satoru let out a sigh, a mixture of disappointment written on his face. He knew that Suguru was reaching his breaking point with her stubbornness, and he wasn't sure how much more he could take from their heated exchange.

He muttered, “I don’t have time for this shit,” pressing his face under the water as he began washing himself.

Silence had essentially fallen between the three for the next hour. Satoru was in the bathroom getting himself ready, Suguru was already dressed—standing in the kitchen as he yelled into the phone due to a power outage at the church—and Solana was in the bedroom putting final touches on her makeup. Her dark hair was now in crimps, parted down the middle as she tweaked her eyeliner, brown lips ombréd with a mix of pink. Her mouth matched the pale pink heels she wore, sage orchids clipped at the top of the slim strap.

Her back tattoo was always something she wanted to show off, something Suguru was deeply fascinated with—up until others had to see it. Her nipples poked through fabric as it stretched along her large hips and torso. It was revealing, she’d admit. But she felt pretty. Her eyes watched as the door slowly opened, Satoru standing in the frame as he watched her.

“What? You’ mad at me too?” She asked.

He shakes his head, “I’m just not in the mood to go head to head with Suguru, I don’t want your beef with him to travel all the way to this restaurant. I’m starving.”

“You think I want to fight with him? The man could chop the head off a demon,” she retorts.

Satoru smirks, “True. Can’t say I blame him, you’re a handful.”

“And he isn’t?” She rolls her eyes, “But seriously, is it that bad?”

She turns towards him, heels clicking along the floor while she gives him a circle. He crosses his arms over his chest as he pushes himself off of the wall, gripping her chin within his hold as he gruffly tells her, “We might have to change those reservations. You look fucking incredible, baby.”

She smiles, wrapping her arms around his neck, “You think he’ll like it too?”

“He’d like you as a damn trash bag. But it’s just easier not to poke the bear, Solana.”

“Consider the bear poked,” she replied, pursing her lips as she waited for a kiss. Satoru rolled his eyes, nonetheless leaning down as he pecked her mouth.

“I guess Suguru did end up dressing you?” She asked, looking down as he was now wearing a sleek onyx suit, watch along his left wrist as his dark shades hung along over his nose.

He nodded his head, “It’s cool, I like it. And I know you like me in it too. Let’s cut dinner and go right to dessert—“

“Oh god. Where is my man?” She begins making her way out of the room as Satoru follows behind her like a puppy, “Right here!”

As they approach the kitchen, they see Suguru standing there in his own suit, looking almost identical to Satoru's. His long, dark hair was pulled in a half up half down style, his chiseled jaw and sharp features contrasting against the darkness of his attire.

“The fuck do they mean three thousand dollars to fix one main light? Do they think I’m a fuckin’ idiot? I’ve fixed that shit myself before and the light itself was five hundred. You tell that fucking imbecile if he doesn’t lower the price that I will catch the next flight and attach his goddamn prostrate to the ceiling—“

“How about we call them tomorrow morning?” Satoru suggests, taking the phone out of his hand, “Or you let me do the talking.”

“Fine,” Suguru grumbled. He looked at Satoru as he eyed the way he looked within the suit, reaching towards him to adjust his tie as he complimented, “You look nice.”

The compliment gave Solana the confidence to gently take a hold of his hand, turning him towards her as she asked, “What about me?”

Taking notice of her—she looked fucking ethereal. Green had always been her color, swarming around her body like it was only meant for her. He didn’t want to be mad at Solana, but he also didn’t want her to take advantage of his patience. He wrapped her arm around his neck, snatching her towards him as he breathed in her scent.

“Words can’t describe how stunning I think you are,” he growls within her ear, pushing his tongue into her mouth as he slams his palm along her ass, “But I’m still not happy with you.”

“You look handsome,” Solana reaches up as she attempts to pull back the tendrils of hair out his face.

“Please don’t test my patience at this restaurant, Solana.”

She was taken back, assuming that she was somewhat in the clear as she awkwardly suggested, “That sounds like a threat.”

“It is,” he narrowed his eyes, “You’ ready to go?”

She frowned lightly, Suguru quickly tapping under her chin as he mutters, “Fix your face,” pulling her hand within his as they’re making their way out of the loft. The strip is filled with mini shops and brightly colored restaurants. Solana becomes slightly irritated as Suguru is damn near dragging her by the tips of her heels, Satoru following beside them as his attention is along his phone. His eyes then look around the bright lights of the city, people sitting outside as music plays from the buildings, different scents of food with a comforting environment to match.

Satoru was always used to noticing the amount of eyes Solana got from her beauty, men and women seated outside the restaurant ogling over her as she walked past—of course there was Suguru, nearly ripping her limb out of her socket from how hard he was pulling her behind him, glaring at the eyes that stuck to her physique. Her hand gently pulled itself away from Suguru’s as it found its way into Satoru’s, pressing herself into his body as they walked. His jaw clenched.

As they entered the restaurant, Solana noticed as it was more high end, the lights dim within the building as the ambience was almost at a whisper, the sound of someone talking at a regular octave almost too loud.

She leaned her face along Satoru’s arm as the hostess appeared, “Good evening, Father Suguru and Satoru,” a frown coming along Solana’s face as he barely looks at her before continuing, “We’re honored to have you within our restaurant. Let me show you to your seats.”

She doesn’t speak on that. For now. Instead she’s silent, her eyes never noticing Suguru’s vision directly on her as Satoru pulls them over to the large booth they’re sat in, the seat a dark velour of burgundy. She sits in between the two who sit on opposite ends, her body being a tiny bit closer to Satoru as her eyes had their attention on the menu.

The waiter appears, a particularly handsome man that they seem to notice, perfect smile along his lips as he greets, “Welcome, Father Suguru and Satoru. The restaurant is delighted to have you here, we’ve all seen your sermons.”

Suguru waves his hand, “Just Suguru is fine, but thank you. I appreciate that.”

“Same goes here,” Satoru replies, giving a kind smile to him.

“May I start you off with your usuals of bourbon or scotch? We had restaurants within the state forward your favorite selections.”

Both Satoru and Suguru acknowledge his words, nodding their heads as they agree to his offer. Yet—Solana still sits there with a raised eyebrow, waiting for her acknowledgment.

But before she can get anything out, Satoru then adds, “Sure. And a glass of champagne for the lady is fine.”

Her face ached with how hard she frowned, staring between all three men that acted as if she’d suddenly disappeared.

The waiter nods his head, “Of course, sir. I’ll fetch the scotch and bring the champagne for your guest,” that makes Solana damn near want to flip the table, “May I interest you in the chef’s special this evening?”

Suguru and Satoru exchange glances before turning back to the waiter, Suguru then replying, “We’re not picky. That sounds perfect.”

Acting on impulse, Solana raises her finger as she speaks, “Hey. I’m here too. Not just a little decoration. Can you give me your sweetest wine selection?”

The waiter looked slightly taken aback by the interruption, his expression shifting. He chuckled nervously.

“Of course, ma’am,” his voice was polite but slightly strained, “We have Moscato D’asti. It’s a sweet wine from Italy.”

“Yeah, that’s fine. Did you also gather information of my favorite selections as well?” She raises an eyebrow.

“That will be all for now. Thank you,” Suguru cuts off, the waiter giving a curt nod before he takes off. When his eyes follow back to Solana, he definitely isn’t happy.

She twists her head, “What?”

Suguru leaned forward in his seat, fixing her with a steely gaze, “Don’t be fuckin’ cute.”

She shrugs, “I just want the dick sucking treatment you guys get,” Suguru’s glare burning within her brain as she looks back down to the menu.

“Language, baby,” Satoru chuckles, finding her attitude to be a little amusing.

“Oh? So in public I’m just some dumb ass hoe you gotta’ keep in check? Great. Should I start speaking like a fucking airhead too? Or should I just get under the table and start jerking you guys off with each hand? Clearly I’m just some eye candy. The motherfucker didn’t even acknowledge me when he walked up.”

Satoru didn’t find her act funny anymore. Her words had struck a nerve he didn’t know she could hit. His smirk faded, replaced by a more serious expression.

“Watch your goddamn mouth,” he warned, his voice firm, “You know it isn’t like that.”

Suguru’s eyes had darkened at her words, “This isn’t the time or place for a fucking tantrum. Don’t try that shit here, brat.”

“It isn’t like that?” She looks to Satoru, “Fucking act like it then. You know I don’t even drink champagne, so you were doing that to show your ass. You and your little stupid ass shades can stop talking to me,” she waves off, bringing her attention back to Suguru, “I’m a brat now. Hm. Okay. Yawn.”

The waiter appears before Suguru can reply back, his pressure spiking at her attitude. He then asks, “Is everyone ready to order?”

“I think I want steak,” Solana says.

She sees both of their eyes. Both Suguru and Satoru knew that she didn’t do red meat often, constantly complaining that it gave her headaches. So doing it in this scenario, they knew it came from a defiant way of wanting to piss them off. It absolutely was. And?

Satoru spoke up, keeping his expression together as he calmly asked, “You sure you want that, princess?”

“I’m sure,” she gives a fake smile back, closing the menu shut as she asks, “Actually, let’s ditch the wine idea. Would you fetch me some scotch like they’re drinking? Think I’m in the mood for brown,” she smiles, leaning forward on the table as her breast pushes up within the dress she wears, “Brown makes me horny.”

The waiter's eyes reflexively fall to her chest, Suguru tilting his head forward as he narrows his eyes, raising an eyebrow at the man. He quickly composed himself, clearing his throat before he replied, “Uh—yes ma’am. Right away.”

Satoru and Suguru’s expressions now reflect each others at her behavior. They’d never seen her like this before, her attitude taking advantage of the fact that they couldn’t correct her in the way they wanted to with being in public. She knew exactly what she was doing.

“You’re acting like a goddamn nightmare, what’s wrong with you?” Satoru demanded, his voice stern, “Since when do you drink scotch?”

“When I started drinking champagne, remember?” She fired back, “You wanna swing your dick’s around and play best man in front of the waiter. Well imma’ flip the fucking restaurant with mine.”

Suguru’s fists clenched tightly from under the table, his knuckles turning white as he fought to control his growing rage. Satoru let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief, “Nobody is having a pissing contest with the waiter. You’re feeding your delusionals real well up there.”

“Boy bye, you could really get cussed the fuck out right now. You’ need that?”

“Boy? So imma’ boy now?” He raises an eyebrow.

“That’s crazy, cause you’re over here throwing a tantrum like a little ass girl,” Suguru adds.

“And you’re a controlling son of a bitch,” she’s fast, her mouth always had been, “Twisting my hand all the way to this damn restaurant. My dress. Getting all pissy with me because I’m being affectionate to Satoru. Wanna pick which issue you’re really mad about?”

“Who the fuck said I was mad about that?” He frowns “You act like a fuckin’ child sometimes, who else are you gonna have to remind you you’re a grown ass woman?”

“A grown ass woman wouldn’t need this many regulations. As for the Satoru situation, you didn’t have to say anything. Let's just lay it all out, shall we? Maybe admit that there is a brat at this table, and if we draw from a hat, it’s not gonna be me!”

Suguru’s eyes flared with anger, his jaw could’ve cracked with how clenched it was, “Excuse me? Who the fuck are you calling a brat?”

Satoru knew that was one of his triggers. He then decided to be the adult, attempting to intervene as he says, “Both of y’all need to cut this shit out. This isn’t the time or place.”

“You wanna go to war with me too? I promise you won’t win.”

It was extremely hard to make Satoru upset. Especially as upset as Suguru ever was, but this time seemed like a different situation. He leaned himself closer to Solana, a humorless smirk along his face, “You wanna play with me right now? Cause you know I can be a goddamn bastard if that’s what you need.”

“Bite me,” she sneers at both of them.

Oh?

She was now pissed, careless if it was two against one. They stared at her like she’d lost her mind, and clearly she had. Suguru felt as though his patience was about to snap, Satoru darkly chuckling, a dangerous glint within his eyes.

“Don’t start some shit you can’t finish,” Satoru threatens.

“I’m supposed to be scared?” She raises an eyebrow, Satoru’s mouth also quick as he replies, “Nobody asked you to be scared. But you need to learn some fuckin’ manners.”

“Manners? Oh,” she giggles, entirely pissed off, “That’s good. Let me just get on my knees and beg for forgiveness, Father,” she pouts, “Let me remind that just because I fuck you both doesn’t mean I’m your fuckin’ lap dog. You don’t run a fucking thing.”

People were beginning to notice their argument, and they could feel the eyes of the other patrons on them as they stared in curiosity. Suguru wanted to chop her damn head off.

Satoru leaned in further, his voice low and dangerous, “I’m not gonna tell you to watch your mouth again. You’re making a goddamn scene," he said, his eyes flickering around, trying to assess the situation.

“Scene? I’ll make a motherfucking movie if I have to!—“

It was quick. Suguru had moved close enough to snatch hold of her lower body, tugging her towards him as he pulled her closest leg over his knee, spreading her thighs apart as he placed all four of his fingers against her clit, digging his thumb into her skin as he rubbed in deep, slow circles. Solana’s lower lip dropped open, his other hand locking along her mouth as he somehow yanked her face close to his, feline eyes staring into the devil’s if she could describe it.

“You’re smart to have all that fuckin’ mouth in a place where you think I can’t do shit to you,” his voice is low, evil almost. Solana’s eyes go slightly wide, darting around to make sure no one sees, her attention swept away when he lowers the hand between her legs, taking his middle and ring finger as he sinks them inside of her. Solana reaches up for his suit, gripping hold as she whimpers, “Suguru—“

“Shut the fuck up. Imma’ deal with you when we get home.”

He pulled himself calmly away from her, shoving her face from his as he sat back along the booth. Satoru said nothing. He only watched as the waiter appeared with their food, politely ordering another glass of scotch while keeping his eyes along Solana. This had been the first time Solana was silenced, hands within her lap as her body was still trying to recover from Suguru’s voice within her ear. She felt like a child that’d done something at school and was fearfully waiting to meet their parents at the doorway once they got home. She was fucked.

Her ears didn’t even register Suguru and Satoru speaking to one another as if nothing happened, discussing the same issue they had been dealing with regarding the church the last couple of days. At that time, Solana thought maybe apologizing would help her situation. She wasn’t sorry for acting out. But maybe doing it here wasn’t her best idea.

She raises her eyes, “Suguru—“

"Eat," he only said, his voice firm and commanding.

Satoru took a sip of his drink, his eyes fixed on her as well. He knew this wasn't the end of their argument, but they needed to regain some composure in public first.

The moment they signed the check and tipped the waiter, Suguru raised his two fingers as she coaxed her to grab his hand, her mouth shut as she did so. He was once again dragging her by her feet back to the loft, neither of them saying anything as she tried to keep up. She had the urge to lay herself against the ground just so she didn’t have to make it into the house.

The tension was palpable as they walked, the silence between them almost deafening. Once they reached the loft, Suguru finally broke the silence, his voice low.

“You better be exactly how I want you by the time I walk into that room.”

She knew exactly how he wanted her. She pulled away from his hand, going into the room as she shut the door, holding her mouth as she desperately tried not to throw another tantrum. Quickly removing her clothes, her body is completely bare, chills along her skin as she pulls her hair nervously behind her ear, gently placing her knees along the ground, hands within her lap as she waits in silence.

It felt like an eternity. When the door opened, Suguru and Satoru appeared, their expressions blank—except for Satoru, who suppressed a smirk at the way her face came along her legs. He could see she was trying not to argue herself out of this situation, although she really, really wanted to.

Suguru shuts the door behind himself, clutching his tie within his large palm as he begins harshly undoing it from around his neck as he lowly asks, “What’s your safe word?”

Solana has the urge to actually cry. A pout comes upon her lips as she trembles, “Bubblegum.”

Suguru notices the pout within her lips, surging forward as he clasps his fingers around her throat, “Fix your fuckin’ face, brat. You weren’t doing all that pouting when you were talking shit,” he grunts, his palm meeting with her red cheek, body aroused and flustered as she whimpers, “Sorry.”

He nearly lifts her up by the hold of her throat, twisting her around as he bends her upper body along the bed. She could feel the strength in his grip, the way he controlled her positioning without any resistance.

Suguru leaned down, his mouth right next to her ear as he spoke, “Count.”

“Daddy, you’re s—squeezing too tight,” she whimpers again, a deep gasp being snatched from her mouth as she feels his ring cladded fingers strike along the skin of her ass, bruised and red the second he does so.

As she whimpered and gasped, Suguru's grip around her throat loosened slightly, but only enough to allow her to speak. He had no intention of letting her off easy.

“I said count.”

Satoru comes around, lowering his face to hers as he holds her chin, “Count, baby.”

“One,” she says softly, gasping again as Suguru spanks her, a throb pulsing at her clit as he slides his fingers over her core, palming down harshly against her as she whimpers, “Two.”

She’s breathless, nearly able to keep up with counting as his hits become more painful, Satoru watching from above as her eyes begin to well with tears.

“Stop all that fuckin’ crying,” Suguru sneers, “You wanna be a grown ass woman, right? I’m treating your ass like one.”

She sniffles, eyes glistening as tears drop from them, staring up as she softly whimpers, “Hurts, Satoru.”

“I know, baby. But you need to learn,” he coos, leaning forward as he places a gentle kiss on her lips, rubbing her face to aid her pain as she whines within his mouth from another sting of Suguru’s hand.

Nonetheless, arousal came over her body as Suguru’s hand gripped around her throat, grunting within her ear as another palm slammed across her skin. She bit her lip, groaning deeply in response from her lashings. The sight of Satoru comforting her did however bring some type of irritation to Suguru.

“I think you seem to forget something,” he begins, pulling himself up as he twists Solana’s body around, her back now along the bed as her hips hang off the end. He grips Satoru by the back of his shirt, pulling him down to where he sits on his knees in front of Solana’s spread thighs.

“You both belong to me,” he grunts, “You have a fuckin’ mouth on you too, I didn’t forget that. Make that shit useful. Get her ready for me, imma’ tear her ass up.”

Satoru’s mind falls back to his own demise earlier within the day, a chill going down his spine at the memory. He nods his head, complying as he presses his fingers along Solana’s thighs, his eyes burning with desire. He leaned down to capture her clit in his mouth, sucking hard and swirling his tongue around it in a circular motion. His hands slid up to cup her hips, providing support as he took her sensitive nub into his mouth completely.

As he eagerly lapped at her wet folds, Satoru's free hand reached underneath her ass cheek, giving each one a gentle squeeze before releasing them. Meanwhile, Suguru watched intently, his dick pulsing with residual pleasure, now fully erect due to the erotic display unfolding before him.

Solana leaned her head back, body arching into his mouth as she gripped for his light hair. Her moan coursed through her body, legs shaking as she held them up by her hands, watching Satoru’s tongue run over her core.

Satoru continued to lavish attention on Solana's pussy, swirling his tongue around her clit while using his thumb to massage her inner walls. He couldn't resist biting down lightly on her outer labia, leaving small marks that would fade within minutes.

Suguru’s hand squeezes around Satoru’s neck from behind, Satoru moaning softly at the feeling as he delved his tongue deeper against Solana’s clit, bottom lip trembling as he masked in her scent, never wanting to pull away.

Solana whimpers, keeping her head up as she watches Satoru’s head twists around, tongue sloppily running over the entirety of her, lapping her up like it was the last time he’d get to taste her. She digs her teeth into her baby pink lips as she trembles, “Want you to tongue fuck me…like Suguru does,” her mouth is desperate, having the need for Suguru, knowing he wouldn’t give her that type of attention.

Suguru raises an eyebrow, “That’s what you want?”

She nods her head, “Please, I’ve been good.”

“Have you?”

“Suguru,” she pouts.

He wasn’t that much of a bastard. Well, he was, but the sight of her spread open, pouty expression and those pleasurable tears within her eyes, he grunted as he gripped Satoru harder, pushing his lips into her clit as he leaned forward, “Put your tongue deep in her pussy.”

Satoru obliged his request, pulling away from her just enough to comply before diving back in with renewed intensity. Suguru gripped Satoru’s hair and directed him towards her entrance, instructing him to use his tongue, pushing it deep into her tight hole repeatedly while maintaining eye contact with Solana.

“That’s fuckin’ good, pretty boy,” Suguru grits, lifting and dropping Satoru’s neck down by the twist of hair he had within his fingers, Satoru grunting each time his tongue sunk within the gummy walls of her opening, tightening around his mouth and gushing mercilessly at his actions.

Solana nearly drooled at this point, eyes rolled to the back of her head as she giggled stupidly, “Yeah. That’s so good, so pretty, baby. Gonna make me fucking squirt.”

That makes Satoru moan, pulling himself up as he stretches his tongue out as far as possible, nuzzling his head from side to side as he curls it within her hole, jaw almost pulled inside of her as he dips his face in and out of her, damn near wanting to drown.

“Fuckin’ creaming on my tongue already, baby,” he grunts, tasting her arousal on his tongue as he latches her legs to the bed, tongue rashly running over her clit before going back down to her opening, growling each time she gushed out from his movement.

The act of watching Satoru pleasuring her made Solana even more desperate for release, causing her body to tremble uncontrollably as she awaited the combined efforts of both men. As Suguru guided Satoru’s movements, Satoru himself became increasingly turned on by the control exerted over him, driving him deeper into a state of submission and arousal.

Solana’s entire body practically vibrates, her grip along her own legs weak as she practically sobs, “I’m gonna cum all over you fucking face,” gasping as her chest heaves, Satoru whimpering, “Please cum,” their moans fighting over one another’s as he shoves his tongue up until his nose is breathing within her vanilla scent, wanting her to crumble beneath him.

But then, it all stops. Suguru yanks Satoru’s head back, chin wet and dripping as he leans down himself, starting from her hole as he dips his tongue in, arrogantly chucking as Solana whines, dragging his mouth all the way up to her clit before he drops spit against her, “Ooh, shit, baby. You’re wet. I’d be in your fuckin’ stomach right now.”

He then pulls back, “But you’re too fuckin’ nice to her. I didn’t tell you to make her cum.”

He pulls Satoru’s head forward, harsher with him as he slaps his palm along his jaw, “I think she’s learned her lesson more than you have. Think your throat needs a little fuckin’ bruising,” he’s already pulling his dick out with his other hand, heavy within his large palm as he smacks his tip along Satoru’s mouth, opening his jaw as he slides himself in between his lips.

Solana continued to hold her legs open, watching as Satoru’s eyes fell closed, allowing Suguru to roughly guide his mouth as he hallowed his cheeks, moaning as his tip slammed into his throat. She was practically mesmerized at the sight. She noticed as her arousal began to pool along the bed, not realizing how much this actually turned her on. She came forward, now getting back on her knees as she sat beside Satoru, peppering kisses along Suguru’s hip as her eyes flicked up to his. Suguru grunted, shoving his fingers into her hair, squeezing his palm that held Satoru’s hair as well. To see both of his subs…submitting to him all at once, it was a sight he cherished within his mind.

The moment Satoru pulls his mouth back, Solana reaches forward as she pulls Suguru’s length from his lips, moaning as she runs her tongue against the veins connected to his tip. Both of their mouths come together to allow Suguru to feel an infinite amount of pleasure, breathless and panting as they touch, suck and lick in any way they can.

“Do you feel good, Daddy?” Solana asks, eyelashes fluttering, mouth open as she plays with his balls on her tongue, Satoru’s eyes closed as he sucks Suguru deeper into his mouth.

“I feel fuckin’ amazing, baby,” he grunts.

“Need you so badly, Suguru. Want you to fuck me so fucking good, Daddy,” she moans, trailing her fingers within Satoru’s hair, guiding his mouth as well.

“Nah. You’re gonna fuck me,” Suguru corrects, “Gonna show me how much you love this dick.”

“Love it already, Daddy,” she bites down on her lip, “Please don’t make me wait any longer.”

“I fuckin’ should,” he grunts.

Suguru moves himself over to the bed as he lays back against it, Solana crawling atop of him as she immediately latches her mouth around his tip, hair falling around her face, silhouette arching as she swiftly moves her body to pull him within a trance. Satoru smirks, collecting her hair into his fist as he guides her head down, grunting, “Make that shit sloppy as fuck, gonna ride him so good, aren’t you baby?”

She hums, eyes rolling to the back of her head as he has one hand along her throat, the other still within her hair as he slams her lips down to meet Suguru’s abdomen, Suguru’s head falling back as he groans at the sight, Solana pulling her mouth up as she giggles, “Want me to show you how sorry I am?”

“Make me cum,” he demands.

She wraps her hand along the base of him, mouth instinctually falling open as she presses his fat tip against her hole, stretching her as she slowly sinks herself down. Her entire body trembles, a soft groan coming from her as she whimpers, biting down on her lip to sink herself lower, the heaviness of her ass sticking like velcro against his hips. Solana whines as Suguru spanks her, gripping her ass as he grits, “Doesn’t matter how many times I stretch you, pussy is always so tight.”

“Always so big, Daddy,” she whimpers.

“Ride me like you fuckin’ mean it.”

Her obedient movements caused Suguru's pleasure to intensify, sending waves of ecstasy coursing through his body. He reached down to grab hold of her hips firmly, guiding her movements as he continued to spank her ass periodically, punctuating each strike with a deep grunt of satisfaction.

His hand found its way back to her throat once more, this time wrapped around the back of her neck rather than gripping her head tightly. With this newfound sense of possession over every aspect of her body, Suguru felt invincible—unstoppable in his ability to dominate and claim ownership over Solana's most vulnerable areas.

"You're mine, aren't you?"

“Yes,” she couldn’t stop whimpering, dropping her hips down, grinding herself against him, skin suctioning together each time their bodies connected.

Suguru's voice was a mix of command and desire as he spoke to Solana, his words dripping with authority and lust. His free hand roamed over her body, exploring every curve and contour while maintaining complete control over her movements. He couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and satisfaction knowing that he had brought her to this point—completely submissive and devoted to pleasing him.

He continued to spank her ass occasionally throughout their intense session, using the stinging pain as a means of reinforcing his dominance over her body and mind. Each smack served as a reminder that he held all power in this situation, and there was nothing she could do but surrender fully to his demands.

“Ooh, fuck, Solana. That’s it, baby. You’re so fuckin’ sexy,” he groans, his hips twitching as she continuously dropped her thighs down onto his, coming to a point where he sat up, locking his hand around the front of her throat, pulling her down, her hair falling in front of her face as she giggled against his mouth, Suguru laughing darkly with her.

Satoru wraps his hands around Solana’s hips, helping as he bounces her up and down, Solana gritting her teeth as she moans, clawing at Suguru’s arm, “I’m so fuckin’ wet, Daddy.”

“I know,” he groans, “Taking me like you never have before…listen to her…”

“She sounds fuckin’ crazy,” Satoru grunts, pulling her hips down deeper to meet Suguru’s.

Solana’s head was spinning, only filled with the need of receiving her pleasure from the both of them. Grappling onto Suguru, she pulled him close to her chest with her arms wrapped around his neck, her knees along the bed as she lifted herself by the strength of her arms, dropping herself down as she sucked the skin of Suguru’s throat. It made him chuckle, Solana sharply humming as he spanks her, “Riding me like a fuckin’ pro, baby. You’re too good to me.”

Suguru couldn't help but let out a low growl of pleasure as Solana clamped around his throbbing erection, the sensation sending shockwaves of ecstasy throughout his entire body. With Satoru's help, they were creating an unforgettable experience, pushing their boundaries further than ever before and leaving her completely vulnerable to their combined dominance. But this time, she wanted to bring Suguru to that spiral that they could create for her, not the other way around.

He knew that it wouldn't be long until he released himself into her eagerly awaiting depths, but for now, he wanted to savor every moment. The sound of her moans and gasps filled the air, driving him even closer to the edge of climax.

Suguru muttered within her ear, “Keep fuckin’ me like this and you’re gonna make me cum, Solana.”

His hips bucked wildly beneath her, signaling that he was mere moments away from releasing himself inside of her, while Satoru continued to hold onto her hair and provide support for both of them during this intense moment.

Solana looked at him, pushing him back along the sheets as she ran her fingers through her hair, shaking her head as she breathlessly protested, “‘Can’t cum yet, Daddy. Wanna keep bouncing on your dick,” Solana moans, slowing her movements as she slowly drops down, watching as that makes him groan, gripping her hips tightly.

Suguru's voice was hoarse as he replied, his words barely coherent due to the intense pleasure coursing through his body, "Fine...baby, do it your fuckin’ way...make me wait…”

Something in his tone felt…needy. She dug her teeth into her lip, suppressing her lustful smile. With Satoru's help, Solana continued to ride Suguru, her movements slowing down just enough to tease him without bringing him too close to climax. The sound of his heavy breathing filled the room, punctuated by the occasional grunt or groan as he struggled to maintain control over his impending release.

As they continued to tease each other, Satoru whispered softly into Solana's ear, "You're driving him crazy, baby...he can't resist you like this."

As Solana looked back at him, Suguru bit down on his lower lip, trying to focus solely on the pleasure coursing through his body while simultaneously fighting off the urge to release. Satoru leans down, allowing his mouth to tease at Suguru’s balls, still keeping a grip along Solana’s hips as he pulls her down.

“So fucking handsome, Daddy,” Solana compliments as she giggles, moaning in between, reaching forward as she takes the band from his wrist, collecting his hair as she wraps it perfectly into a low bun. It was the small things that ignited a fire within Suguru, feeling as she catered to him caused his hips to twitch. Her hips tugged down every other second, “Keep your eyes here, yeah?” She asks, breathlessly gasping as Satoru has his hands on her hips from behind, guiding her down onto Suguru’s dick.

“Fuck, baby. Don’t fuckin’ talk like that,” he leaned his head along the pillow, voice almost like a warning yet he still kept his eyes along hers. They were entrancing, dark lashes and hair falling around her shamelessly beautiful face. Her mouth slightly parted as she took her hand, pressing it along his neck as she swirls her hips atop of him.

“Fuckin’ look at me baby, look how much I love your dick.”

Suguru's gaze remained locked onto Solana's face, his eyes darkening with desire as she asked him to keep looking at her, the intensity of their connection only increasing with each passing moment. He nodded in response to her statement, letting out a low, rough growl of agreement as he tried to maintain control over his rapidly approaching orgasm.

Satoru guided her down onto his engorged member, her pussy enveloping him completely and providing a deliciously tight fit. The sensation sent shivers of pleasure coursing through his body, making it difficult for him to hold back any longer. He bit down on his lower lip once again, trying desperately to stave off his impending climax.

“You’ close, Daddy? I think you are, look at him, baby. He’s close,” Solana whimpers out to Satoru, nodding her head encouragingly.

She then lifted herself to a point where his tip met her core, harshly dropping down until her walls snatched around him. He let out a deep, ragged moan, unable to contain himself any longer. With a final surge of effort, he still managed to hold off, but it was clear that he was on the brink of losing control. His hips bucked wildly beneath her, driving his erection even deeper into her waiting pussy.

"Fuckin’ hell, baby...just like that," he whispered hoarsely, spanking her harshly, “Ride me,” he grips her thighs, bouncing her entire lower body down to meet his hips, “Show me how much you love this big ass dick."

She leans forward, turning her head as she stares down at her hips, “Love your big ass dick so fucking much. Taking every inch of it. You make me so fucking wet,” she continues to speak filthily to Suguru, taking her hands as she places them on the back of her thighs, spreading herself so he could reach deeper. Her lower body squelched each time their hips connected. Satoru continued to hold her hair from behind, yanking her down to help meet Suguru’s hips as he spanked her with his free hand, her teeth digging into her lip from the pleasure.

Suguru watched in awe as Solana rode his throbbing member with unbridled passion, her body undulating in perfect sync with his thrusts. Her words were a mix of raw desire and unabashed adoration, fueling the fire burning within him.

Satoru maintained a steady pace of Solana’s body, driving her deeper into Suguru’s dick with power. As he felt the inexorable feeling of his climax approaching, Suguru clenched his jaw tightly and braced himself for the inevitable.

His voice grew more strained as he spoke to Solana, urging her on with a combination of dirty commands and pleas for her to continue, "Fuck me harder, baby," he growled, her hips immediately plummeting down on him, "Make me cum inside that tight little pussy of yours."

But despite his best efforts, the pressure built up within him like a volcano about to erupt. There was nothing left to do but surrender to the overwhelming sensations coursing through his entire body as he finally let go, Suguru's grunts echoing throughout the room, muffled slightly by him digging his teeth into his lip, losing himself in the ecstasy of the moment.

Solana moaned shockingly, feeling her own body shaking from another approaching orgasm. Satoru leaned into her from behind as he kissed her neck, whispering huskily into her ear, “Fuck that, you’re not done yet,” keeping her hovered over Suguru as he continuously dropped her hips down against his dick. Solana giggles, breath shaky as she continues to raise her own hips against Suguru despite his release.

“Need you to cum again, Daddy. You’re doing so fucking good. Look so fucking pretty,” she tells him, slightly gasping as Satoru places her hands behind her back, fucking her down into Suguru himself.

“Want me to cum again, huh?” He raises an eyebrow, breathless as he’s spanking her ass that’s becoming red, Solana nodding as she whimpers, “Mhmmmm.”

“So make me cum again.”

Honestly, he wasn’t sure if he could handle another release. But he wasn’t going to tell them that. His tip felt a little sensitive, but everything they were doing still felt so good.

Solana gripped for Suguru’s large palm, placing it along her breast as she swirled her hips on top of him, dropping them down second by second. She put her feet along the bed, sitting herself up in a squatting position as she bounced on top of him, sliding his fingers up into her mouth as she giggled, “Like this?”

Suguru nodded eagerly, his hand still clutching onto her hip, pulling her down onto his sore member with each thrust. As Solana continued to ride him with abandon, taking every opportunity to pleasure both him and Satoru, he couldn't help but admire the display before him. The sight of her perfectly round ass bouncing in time with her movements only served to further fuel his desire for her.

Satoru maintained his position between her thighs, watching intently as she took control of their shared experience. His gaze never left her face, captivated by the look of pure blissful ecstasy etched across her features. He was hungry for her.

“You love this dick, don’t you, brat? Can’t get enough of it. Look at you,” Suguru growls, reaching his hand up to her face as he smacks her cheek, Solana whining in response.

“Love Daddy’s dick,” she whimpered, skin clapping together as she slammed her hips down, “Love it so so much, gonna make me fucking squirt. Yeah, yeahhhh,” her eyes rolled to the back of her head, sucking on his fingers harder.

For the first time, she sees Suguru’s face go red. It was almost a look of…submission in his eyes. Satoru holds Solana’s hair, snatching her hips down onto Suguru’s dick as he grunts to her, “Keep fuckin’ bouncing, baby. That’s good.”

Suguru let out a low groan as Solana's words drove him closer to the edge, his dick twitching beneath her relentless motion. The combination of her ruthless riding and Satoru's firm grasp on her hair sent a surge of pleasure coursing through his entire body, causing his erection to pulse with uncontrollable desire.

Satoru's gaze locked onto Suguru's face, his own expression becoming increasingly predatory as he witnessed the intensity of his lover's pleasure. With a wicked smirk, Satoru whispered into Solana's ear, "You're driving him insane, baby. Can't wait to see him cum again.”

Suguru's hips bucked involuntarily as he felt himself approaching another climax, his balls tightening and tensing as he prepared to release. With an actual moan, he released a torrent of thick, creamy cum, filling her tight channel to maximum capacity. The sound of his release echoed throughout the room, signaling his complete submission to Solana's riding.

Satoru watched with fascination, his hand releasing Solana's hair as he admired the way she effortlessly brought Suguru to orgasmic bliss.

His chest heaved with excitement, Solana continuing to ride Suguru's throbbing member recklessly. The sight of her wet pussy glistening with cum and clenching tightly around his spent cock only served to fuel his own lust even further.

Satoru leaned around to reach her face, smiling arrogantly as he smacked her cheeks a couple of times, Solana giggling with him as he praised, “Look how you made him cum for you. You're so fuckin’ sexy when you ride dick like that."

“Want me to ride his dick some more?” Solana moans, continuously grinding her hips on top of Suguru, digging her lip as she looks into Satoru’s face. Suguru grips her hips, spanking for her to stop as he was now completely sensitive to her movements. Solana leans down, trapping his wrists under her hands as she giggles sultrily, “Think I wanna fuckin’ milk my Daddy, make him cum a thousand times.”

Suguru couldn't believe what he was hearing, his heart racing with a mix of pleasure and pure ecstasy as he lay there, completely vulnerable to Solana's every command. His dick still throbbing and pulsing with spent semen, he had no choice but to submit fully to her desires.

Satoru watched with a mixture of amusement and raw desire, his eyes glued to Solana's sultry performance as she took control of the situation, using her own body to satisfy her insatiable appetite for domination and pleasure. He could barely contain his excitement at seeing her transformation before his very eyes, from a submissive partner to a confident and assertive dominatrix.

“I don’t think he wants it enough,” Satoru tells her, pulling her hips back as he takes his own dick in his hands, sinking it inside of her from behind as he begins slamming his hips up to meet the trembling skin of her ass.

Solana’s eyes roll, tongue sticking out as she moans, digging her fingers into Suguru’s stomach as she bends down, instantly latching her mouth against Suguru’s dick. Her tongue licks all over it as she talks to Suguru, “Tell me you want more of my pussy, baby. Look at how good Satoru’s fucking me. I know you miss me,” she whimpers, turning her eyes back as she watches her hips drop down against Satoru’s, Satoru spanking her continuously.

“Don’t you fuckin’ want her? Been’ all fuckin’ needy for her attention, now look who’s got it?” Satoru talks darkly, Solana’s eyes captured behind her as she whines, “Stretching my pussy so fuckin’ good, Satoruuu.”

As Satoru positioned himself behind her and started to thrust into her , Suguru couldn't help but let out a low groan, feeling his dick swell even larger with anticipation.

Suguru managed to admit through clenched teeth, "I...want...more...of your pussy…”

Feeling emboldened by Suguru's response, Solana increased the pace of her motions, her voice growing more demanding as she urged him on, “Beg for my pussy. Show me how much you crave me. Look who craves me more. Don’t you, baby?”

Satoru's hips drove harder into her, his dick buried deep inside of her wet folds as his head tilted back, gripping the skin of her ass as he whimpered out, "Crave you all the fuckin time, baby. Please...please...pussy is so tight, baby. Fuck.”

Suguru's cock twitched and throbbed as Solana's words echoed in his ears. He felt the weight of her demand, knowing that he had no choice but to give her everything she asked for. As Satoru continued to pound into her relentlessly, he knew that his submission was the only one left.

Satoru’s voice grew ragged as he pleaded with her, "Y-Yes...I need your pussy...so bad…”

The combination of these intimate exchanges sent a wave of pleasure coursing through Suguru's body, causing him to buck against Satoru's thighs involuntarily, needing them at this point.

“Stop fuckin’ playing,” Suguru grits out, something bubbling below the surface of his voice.

“Look at you, pretty boy,” she giggles towards Satoru, “Supposed to be making me ready for Daddy’s dick. And yet you’re enjoying every second of being inside of me, yeah?” She asks him, pushing her hips back as she matches his rhythm, feeling as he squeezes her hips, Satoru whimpering again.

Solana turns her eyes back to Suguru, “Tell me you want my pussy, tell me. Missing your big dick inside of me.”

Suguru watched helplessly as Solana teased and tormented Satoru, delighting in the sight of him struggling to maintain control while being driven wild by her seductive demands.

He bit his lower lip, trying to contain the building pressure in his balls, “Come give me your fuckin’ pussy before I take it, Solana.”

She giggled, “That’s not very nice, Daddy,” twisting her head back to Satoru as her lashes flutter, “He’s being so good to me…can’t…stop…”

Solana whimpered, leaning her face against Suguru’s stomach as she held her shaking legs against the bed, whimpering, “Oh fuck, Satoru. Baby. Baby. You’re— hitting my fucking g-spot,” she whines, “Don’t stop. Don’t stop.”

Suguru's heart raced even faster at the sound of Satoru’s desperate pleas, “Can't help myself when you look at me like that," he replied, his voice strained with both lust and submission.

Satoru increased his pace, driving himself deeper into her swollen folds with each powerful thrust, his dick pulsing with anticipation as he neared climax. The sensation of being completely owned by these two people was thrilling, he couldn't deny the intense pleasure coursing through his veins.

“Satoru,” she whined, “Fuckin’ love your dick, baby,” she cried out, dropping her hips back against him, mouth dropping open, “Fuck me harder baby. Fuck me. Fuck me.”

Satoru growled in response to her cries, "You love my dick?...Fuckin’ own you...make you cum nonstop for me...Gonna fill your tight pussy with my cum...Just wait.”

His movements became even more forceful, driving himself into her relentlessly as he channeled his primal desire to please her and claim ownership over every part of her body. Sweat dripped from his brow and onto her thighs as he pounded into her wet pussy with unbridled passion, his balls tightening in anticipation of their shared release.

Suguru clenched his jaw, silent as he could only watch his pets. Satoru felt his orgasm building rapidly, his balls tightening and clenching as he reached the edge of ecstasy. He let out a low groan, "C—Cumming...so close...gonna fill you up...Can't hold back any longer..."

With a final surge of effort, he released a torrent of hot semen deep within her quivering walls, filling her womb with his thick seed. As he emptied himself inside of her, Satoru's hand clenched tightly around her breast, squeezing it tightly as he rode out his climax.

"There...my cum is yours now...All mine for you…” he whimpered out, Solana sighing, “You’re so good, baby. Thank you.”

Solana giggled, wasting no time as she pulled herself back on top of Suguru as she whimpered, “Didn’t forget about you, Daddy, promise,” sliding herself down onto his dick, groaning as she did so. She talks to him, “Been waiting patiently, baby. You’re so sweet. Deserve a fucking reward.”

“Deserve your fuckin’ pussy, had me waiting this long,” he grunts, kissing her roughly from his impatience.

As Solana settled onto his throbbing member, her arousal mixed with his cum, creating a slippery mess between their bodies that added to the intensity of their intimate connection.

Solana grips Suguru by his chin, “Look at me in my eyes, baby. Tell me how I feel, bouncing on your dick after I've milked you already. Feels good, yeah?” She asks, mercilessly dropping her hips down, hoping it brings this dominant to a point of submission.

Suguru couldn't help but nod in agreement, his eyes locked onto hers as she asked the question, his dick pulsing with each impact of her hips against his sensitive flesh, "Yeah...you feel really fuckin’ good...bouncin' like that...Makes me want to cum again...just thinking about how much you enjoy riding me...Knowing that you're using my dick like this…” His voice grew rougher with each word, his throbbing erection twitching involuntarily beneath her swaying hips.

“You love me?” Solana asks, bouncing herself harder against him, giggling as he grabs her hips, a sharp breath pulling from his mouth, eyes falling down to her thighs marking their territory along his hips, dropping down sloppily as she grinds herself against him.

“Fuckin’ love you, my little slut, my little brat, my baby. All of you.”

His hips bucked upward involuntarily as he spoke, pushing himself deeper inside of her wet pussy with each word, his dick throbbing relentlessly, eager to release its load of cum deep within her waiting depths all over again.

Satoru's hand moved lower, reaching down to grasp at her ass cheeks, pulling them apart slightly before giving them a firm smack each time Suguru pushed into her pussy. His other hand reached around as it found its way to her clit, stroking it gently while keeping her positioned perfectly above Suguru's throbbing member. The combination of sensations sent shivers down Solana's spine, causing her to let out a soft whimper of pleasure.

With Satoru taking care of her pleasured needs, Suguru focused solely on driving himself deeper into her with each thrust, his gaze never leaving hers as he braced himself for another release.

“Look at that, Daddy. You’re so close, taking my pussy like such a good boy,” she says to Suguru. He nearly halts their movements, trying to stop her hips. She snatches his hands away from her hips, “Take all of my pussy, baby. Feel me, I feel good, yeah?” Dragging her hips up slowly as she slams them down. He's spent.

Suguru thrusts his fingers through his hair, grunting as it turns into a deep, soft whimper, unable to do anything else but nod and watch as Solana drops her hips down. Her eyes lightened at the sound she’d never heard from him, Satoru kissing her neck sloppily with a dark chuckle, “Look at our pretty boy.”

Suguru couldn't help but groan at Satoru's words, his hips automatically picking up speed again as he drove himself even deeper into Solana's wet pussy, his dick swollen and desperate for release as he grunted, “Fuck, b—baby,” it slips into a whine, capturing it back into a grunt, the sight of Satoru kissing her neck only added fuel to the fire burning within him, making him feel even more powerful and dominant.

With a final grunt of pleasure, Suguru erupted inside of her, filling her with more hot streams of cum while shuddering violently beneath Satoru's ministrations.

“Oh my goddd,” Solana moaned, both her and Satoru laughing pleasurably, “Look at Daddy, baby. He's cumming again. Driving him fuckin’ crazy,” Solana talks, “That’s so good, Daddy. Love when you cum, keep going,” she says within Suguru’s ear, driving him mad.

Solana gasps softly as Satoru suddenly pulls her off of Suguru’s dick, pulling her neck down as he pulls her jaw open, pulling Suguru’s dick into her mouth, coming behind her as he sunk his own dick inside of her before spanking her, “Better make me cum like that, too. Suck his fuckin’ dick.”

“Too sensitive, baby,” she whimpered, wrapping her hands around Suguru’s length as she fisted it within her palm, looking back to Satoru as her sensitive walls squeezed around him. She whined as he spanked her, pulling her down onto his dick harshly nonetheless.

“Fuck her good, Satoru. She’s acting up today, making me fuckin’ act like this,” Suguru growls, pulling her hair into his fist, slamming his tip into her throat.

Satoru picked up the pace even more, his hips slamming into Solana's backside with relentless determination, his dick pounding into her over and over again as he spanked her cheeks harder than ever before. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the air, along with their ragged breathing and moans of pleasure. Satoru's eyes glinted with pride as he saw how well she took everything he dished out, knowing that she was truly devoted to them both.

“Cum again,” Suguru gruffly tells her, pulling her mouth up to stare directly into her red face.

“Can’t cum again, Daddy,” she cried out, fisting her hand faster against Suguru’s dick, “Too fuckin’ much,” her eyes begin to well with tears, shouting each time Satoru’s balls smack against the back of her ass, his dick reaching her inner depths more than she ever imagined.

Suguru gripped her chin, muttering, “You better fuckin’ take his dick. Keep fucking bouncing.”

Solana whimpers, tears dropping down her face as she pants, nodding her head as she tries her best to keep up, Suguru’s hands tightening around her chin as he arrogantly grins, “Yeah, that’s it, baby.”

“Gonna take both of our dicks at the same time while you cum. You’ve been a good fucking girl,” Satoru grunts.

Pulling himself deeper into her, he adjusts as he leans above them, grabbing for Suguru’s length. Before Solana can protest, Satoru is already making room for Suguru’s dick, pushing it inside of her as well. To have both of them inside of her at once, she feels so full. Her arms reach to push them off when Suguru instantly locks her down. Suguru then sits himself up as Solana’s mouth gapes open, body shocked at the feeling of her being stretched, silence cutting as a trembling gasp falls from her lips, a broken moan cutting through her mouth as he kisses her. Suguru wraps his arm around her as he twists his fingers in between her folds from behind, raising up as he begins nudging her hole.

“Oooh my fucking god,” Solana cursed, tongue lolling out of her mouth as Suguru pushes his finger into her rear entrance, she gasps through each thrust they give together, eyes welling with tears as she whimpers deeply.

Suguru and Satoru both groaned in unison as they continued to pound into Solana's pussy, feeling their combined weight press against her sensitive walls. The sound of their thrusts echoed throughout the room, creating a sense of power and control that only intensified their pleasure. Suguru's finger found its way deeper into Solana's ass, pushing past the initial resistance before sliding smoothly into her tight hole. As he pulled it back out, he leaned in close to whisper in her ear, “Talk to me.”

“N—Nobody else can fuck me like this,” she admits, eyes rolled to the back of her head, completely out of her mind as Suguru’s finger shoves deeper into her, Solana gripping his hair as she shoves her tongue into his mouth, sloppily kissing him as their tongues nearly run over another’s face.

“We’ve fucked her stupid,” Satoru chuckles darkly, “She can barely think.”

“I know,” Suguru grunts, “Here, baby. Eyes here,” he shoves his fingers into her mouth, pulling her face down to reach his vision. She nods, whimpering as she sucks along them.

Suguru and Satoru shared a satisfied smirk at Solana's declaration of loyalty, their hands moving to grab onto her hips and guide her body in perfect sync with their powerful strokes. The sensation of their large dicks slamming into her pussy sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through their own bodies, making it impossible for either of them to resist cumming soon. They’d pulled her into a level of insanity she hadn’t reached before, mind completely blank.

Solana screamed out, harshly orgasming on top of them, “Fuck, I’m cumming. I’m fucking—nnng— cumming. I’m cumming. I’m cumming,” she keeps repeating, leaning her face into Suguru’s shoulders as she groans out, screams enveloping her lips.

Satoru pulls her back by her hair, forcing her face upwards as he chuckles, watching her body fall apart. Suguru grips her chin, forcing her mouth open as he spits into it, kissing her filthily as he swallows her screams.

Suguru and Satoru watched with satisfaction as Solana's body shook with pleasure, her cries echoing throughout the room as they felt their cum pulse deep within her. The sound of her screams seemed to drive them even further into ecstasy, fueling their desire to claim her fully as their own.

“Such a beautiful fuckin’ slut,” Satoru compliments.

“Ours,” Suguru grunts, spanking through her orgasm.

“Only ours.”

“Bubblegum!” She cries out, using her safe word as her body trembles, chest heaving up and down, tears dragging down her face as her legs shake, whimpering deeply each time both Satoru and Suguru spank her.

Once they heard her safe word, it was like she had told them a joke, laughing arrogantly in unison as she fell apart against them. They spanked her relentlessly, the combination of pain and pleasure coursing through Solana's body made her cry out even louder, but she couldn't resist the overwhelming sensations that were driving her wild with desire.

Satoru trails kisses along the back of Solana’s neck, chuckling as she hides her face within Suguru’s shoulder, pleading they leave her alone.

Suguru grips her chin, “Fuckin’ kiss me,” Satoru right behind him as he adds, “Make it good.”

She complies, whimpering as she kisses him passionately, breathless as they both pull out of her, Suguru spanking her one last time just to hear her squeak.

The only thing that now filled the room was Solana’s heavy breathing. As they hold her close and allow her to catch her breath, Suguru suddenly feels her body shaking, assuming she’s still recovering from her orgasm.

When he pulls her face up, she’s actually crying. Suguru raises an eyebrow, unable to hold back his chuckle of confusion as he asks, “Solana, baby, why are you crying?”

Solana presses her fingers to her eyes as she sobs, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to be mean earlier, I just…I’m sorry,” she cries softly, remembering back to how she treated the both of them at the restaurant.

They both look at each other with a look of concern, realizing she’s entirely serious. Suguru sighs out, “Pretty girl, please stop crying. You’re fine.”

Telling someone to stop crying would usually make them cry more. And that’s exactly what Solana did, crocodile tears dropping along her face as she sniffles, feminine voice high as she nearly loses her breath from her tears.

Suguru grips her chin as he says, “Hey. Chill. Look at me, you’re fine.”

“I didn’t want you to be mad at me…’m just sorry for how I’ve been treating you.”

“You haven’t been doing anything, baby. I…” Suguru pauses, running his fingers through his hair as he exhales, “I don’t like admitting I’m wrong. I was a little jealous because what you and Satoru have isn’t what me and you have. I should’ve expressed that. Instead I was acting like a bastard.”

Satoru raises his eyebrows at Suguru’s vulnerability, tilting his head as he asks, “Get that thought out of your head. You know that I love you, right? That we love you.”

“I know that.”

“So act like it.”

Solana presses her hands in his face, Suguru rubbing his thumb over her fingers as she sniffles, “I love you too, you’re my man, wouldn’t have it any other way,” she kisses him, Suguru chuckling as tears still well in her eyes.

Satoru came around as he pressed his lips against Suguru’s, clasping his face within his hand. For the second time, Suguru’s face went slightly red, leaning into Satoru’s embrace as he stared at him.

“Awe, you’re so cute sometimes,” Solana had finally stopped her crying, rubbing her eyes before wrapping her arms around his neck as she pecked kisses on his cheek.

“You two make me soft. It’s fuckin’ icky,” he pushes them both away, both bodies grunting as they fall along the bed.

Solana then grumbles, “Y’know what’s icky? That I’m hungry! Still haven’t eaten anything.”

“And who’s goddamn fault is that, Solana? We told you to eat,” Satoru reminded.

“Where are you going?” Solana called to Suguru who was now walking around, searching for his phone.

“Calling that restaurant to go beat the shit out of our waiter. My mind was too clouded to see he was being a prick, imma’ show his ass a fuckin’ prick.”

“Oh god,” both Satoru and Solana muttered.

Suguru raises an eyebrow, “Y’all losing your senses again? Do we need to all get back on the bed?”

“No.”

you can’t even look at it . you just remain staring up at him , doe eyed , squeezin at your own fingers , spine tensed . his eyes barely squint . his voice is quieter when he asks . .

“am i a joke to you.”

and the second you realize that all this time , he must’ve been thinking that you’ve been making fun of him , the surface of your eyes burn with what feels like a million tears . “no,” you blubber out, voice cracking, with a quick shake of your head. “n-no, i swear.”

“yeah?”

“yeah,” you furiously try to dab away your tears and sniffle, looking absolutely precious. “e-everyone kept . . tellin’ m-me to go for it so, i did. i know ‘s childish, b-but i really meant it. i promise ):“

then suddenly , a wave of guilt crashes into him becuz he can tell that you’re sincere . you’re just young . . and a bit embarrassed now . your heart is in your hands , arms outstretched to him , waiting for him not to crush it into a thousand pieces . he’ll exhale a heavy breath through his nose , look out at where everybody’s still bustling around the building , drop his gaze to the note between his fingers then hold it out to you .

“here,” his voice is gentler now . “. . . wanna see what i checked off, mm?”

“mhm.” you’re still sniffling and your fingers are trembling when you gently take the note from him .

do you think m cute ?

ꪜ ꪜ ꪜ yes ☐ no :c

can i pls suck ur cock ): ? … pls

miles of space span between you and him. every night. akin to a kindled match catching dry leaves, you caught his eye within the initial second of you stepping foot into butcher’s for the first time. you stood out — a pretty, young lass. a blaring splotch of color betwixt the dull shades of muddied, brown work shoes, soot colored grime on navy auto shop overalls, and grey, plaid button ups . . . your style is ecliptic. full of soft textures, maximalist accessories, and playful motifs. john didn’t like it at first. it was too much. he’d sit at his usual booth, cornered between the juke and a few feet away from the back door entry and with his fingers stroking along the smooth glass of a generous shot of cognac, he would solely watch you. because time seems to like you — you’re her friend.

it has been inching into eleven months since you’ve first spawned within the tiny, logging town of briar. where you came from? no one knows. how you got here? fuck if anyone has a clue. who you are . . . ?

john has been trying to figure it out for about ten months now.

every night, quarter til dusk, similar to blood beneath the shag of an old carpet, you seep through. when he thinks you have finally decided to pack up and bolt, you weasel your way inside the bar like the walls had been saving your shadow all day. you’re a highly favored member of the oldest profession known to mankind. a seducer — to put it nice and plain, what john knows his mother would call you, a harlot. the method of approach you use to gather the attention of the creamcrackered patrons of butcher’s isn’t composed of smirks and an alluring, slow burning danger dressed in leather and platformed heels. quite the opposite, actually. you keep to yourself . . nuzzled underneath the flaxen glow of a hanging light fixture at the bar with a cosmopolitan held almost timidly between your fingers. posture straight, eyes forward . . . infallibly, you appear to be lost in your own head. gaze unfocused, a far away glint coffined deep within them as you soothingly twist the stool you’re perched on from left to right.

you’re always approached because you stand out.

in a good way? john wouldn’t think so. the men here are used to one type of woman — light eyed, slim, and dull. you’re none of those things. you’re sought out due to the fact that, given any other setting, you would be unattainable. there’s something about you that feels beyond reach — such as a place they have only seen in their dreams. you are distractedly peculiar, not in the way that frightens, but lingers. no one ever knows the exact reason why they look for you, only that they do.

john watches how your face prettily brightens with each approach — so many different men over the course of eleven months yet, your smile never dims. you’re happy to let them grab your hand, sweetly lead you to the restrooms, the rear exit for the alley or to their cars with a booster seat still buckled in back. it makes his gut twist. you’re disgusting. the obvious participants who keep fueling you to come back to the bar are also to blame but you? you are absolutely vile. it’s what he tells himself when a month inches into two, then three, then ten. you are a woman destined for nothing but a lifetime full of trouble, sadness, and regret.

with enough introspection, it doesn’t take much effort to realize that the spoken disgust he felt begins to edge into something much stiffer, quieter. jealousy. it curls around his spine, slow as a noose . . . grabs him by the throat and refuses to release. an honest man like him won’t fight it. he isn’t ten anymore, this isn’t the schoolyard. he doesn’t have to deny his feelings to a pal because girls are prissy and annoying and stupid and think that they know everything. you’re dreadfully attractive. skin almost the exact shade of the coffee he prepares each morning — a costa rican dark roast with two splashes of cinnamon vanilla creamer. you have locs, too. they’re long and halt at your curved waist. always freshly retwisted to reveal each small, neat, semi circle shaped part. you style them in high buns, pig tails, with bows and thick ribbon, or thick clear beads at the ends.

eyes big and brown — like a sad puppy’s. cheeks, both sets, full, lips pouty and perpetually shining with a glittering gloss. you are a vision. pretty as a festering wound stitched shut with lace.

and john’s never been a person to idly sit by as his fingers ache to grasp what is clear he wants. he’s never waited for a blessing, pleaded for acceptance. it’s not in him and he knows it never will be. his hunger is vast — he enjoys holding it there, directly within the pit of his throat. lets it curl out past his teeth sweet and slow at seemingly the worst, feasible moments. he’ll break down doors for what he wants, jam the barrel of an ak directly within a soldier’s eye socket until it pops like an overripe berry and oozes out jam and sinew if he has to.

‘learn to be patient.’

it’s what his ma would always tell him. ‘you’re too impulsive.’

he never really did learn to control his compulsions. he moved to briar, a gloomy, little city in oregon, from england all those years ago between deployments and during his first marriage to make an effort and somehow gather up the mental capacity to. too many sweet girls, smart ones, beautiful ones. it’d been difficult. nevertheless, bonnie, his second wife happened. a carnal, three month affair that led to divorce papers from athena being served to him just moments after his foot touched briar’s soil for the first time in ten weeks following conflicts in russia. the both of them, bonnie and athena, remind john of you. only . . . traits that you have, the other two lacked.

brown eyes, he’s always been attracted to them. warm and dark, similar to a simmering pot of melted chocolate that conceals a knife at the bottom — sweet ahead of you stirring too deep. bonnie’s were brown, athena’s were not.

plush lips, something athena possessed. bonnie didn’t.

stretch marks on stout thighs that ran up the sides of their hips, bonnie. eyelashes so long they could be mistaken for blackened silk, athena. beauty marks peppering her body akin to ink drops on aged parchment, bonnie. all of it, you.

a voice so sweet and soft, the kind that could be so easily misdeemed as a lullaby, yet in a bar seething with cigarette smoke and shouted curses, is able to still pull every gaze like a hook coated in honey. you. john has took it upon himself to realize that you don’t want this life anymore. it’s not for you. three to four different men every night, making just enough to continue to pay for your weekly stays at the town’s only motel. he can save you from the unwarranted touches, the stares, and he will peel you right out of the skin they’ve dirtied. tuck you somewhere nice, quiet, and remote where only his eyes, his touch, his hunger will ever find you. you’ll get used to it, you’ll grow to love it.

a place where the world forgets your name but he never will.

𓏵

you walk home alone. every night.

it’s your favorite time of day. an inky blue canopy pinpricked with glimmering light and a full, white disc. it feels as though the world is exhaling, leaving you wrapped in sweet quiet, entirely solo. your footsteps are heavy against the pavement — courtesy of the chunky, block heel of your platformed shoes. a tiny mp3 player is hooked against the strap of your accessorized handbag and connected to it are thin, pink, wired earbuds that also dangle from your ears. you’re softly tossing your head from this side to the next, swaying to the dreamy rhythm of kali uchis’ angels all around me.

you made a decent amount of money tonight. a whopping seven hundred dollars — the most you’ve made in a single one since you’ve probably been here at briar. you feel almost . . . good. half of it goes to your room at the inn and the other . . . it’s exclusively your decision to decide what you’ll do with it. you’re daydreaming about french toast as you gaze down at the square toe of your heels, trying to maintain a narrow enough stride to keep yourself from stepping on the cracks that cover the grounds.

sweet, fluffy goodness. dusted with cinnamon and powdered sugar with a bowl of fresh berries on the side, rasp and blue, needy for your teeth and tongue to pop and chew them into a mince.

you’re humming louder to the song — chancing a big, bunny hop over the next high curb as you cross a block.

“french toast,” you’re whispering to yourself. “berries. whipped cream . . aaand . . . apple ju—“

it happens faster than you can catch your next breath. one moment, you’re strolling, the next, a hand is clasping over the shape of your mouth — rough, warm, chillingly tender for something so final. he’s heaving you off of the sidewalk with his other arm squeezed tight around your tummy. instinctively, your legs are flailing come your feet no longer having the cement’s support. your screams are muffled beneath a broad palm. his grip on you is steady, firm as your heart rattles within the cage of your ribs similar to a trapped bird, dying to be set free. darkness enshrouds you, concealing the cool, pale moonlight into nothing. the world doesn’t just swallow you whole . . it moors down on you, razor toothed and angry, and you feel the night grinding you into pieces before you’re ever truly gone.

𓏵

there’s something soft beneath the warmth of your cheek.

not cottony soft . . almost, fuzzy actually.

your eyes dart from left and right beneath the shield of your closed lids before you’re creaking them open, feeble and frail. you’re only three inches above cold, concrete floor, thanks to the kindness of the mattress you lay upon. its surface is covered by a thin, fleece blanket. weakly, you blink . .

echos of what you’d felt, who you’d felt slowly leak within the crevices of your memory. they swarm into your brain like a hub of livid wasps. instinctively, your hand is reaching down to touch between your thighs — no tenderness, no pain, no wet. your clothes are still on, aside from your heels . . . they’ve been replaced by socks. thick ones with, interestingly enough, frills at the ankle. you could almost think that they’re yours even. you have about a dozen pair of the exact same ones.

when you gather enough strength to lift yourself up, you eventually find yourself in a basement. the room is dimly lit with only a single, naked lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. it casts a dull, golden glow against bare, concrete walls that appear rough to the touch and stained with age. wooden, exposed ceiling beams are crisscrossed with stray wires and pipes that snake along the awning and down the walls and an old, timber staircase sits off to the left, its steps creaking underneath phantom weight, leading up to a small landing and door that is painted red and bolted shut. it’s rough and unfinished, the steps made from rickety wood that looks like it’s been trod on by heavy boots full with secrets. there’s no banister, only a few support beams that reach the ceiling above, giving you nothing to grasp if you were to slip.

an iron clamp is fastened around your ankle like a vice. it connects to a thick, heavy chain that is hooked securely against a radiator some feet away from you. and within the shadows beneath the stairs, nothing but black pools — stubborn and stout.

until you see it.

until you see him.

he sits on a creaky, old plastic chair right beneath them, cloaked within the murk with his long legs outstretched. they’re the only parts of his body able to be seen. he wears a pair of dark washed jeans that strain against the thick muscle of his thighs and brown work boots. you swallow, thick and slow, staring off into where you think his face would be.

“these walls are ventilated.”

he speaks akin to a match being struck — a gravelly, quick rasp with the promise of fire underneath. his voice is deep and distinctly carries an accent . . . british, you would assume.

when his legs pull back towards his body in preparation for him to stand, you can’t help flinching back a bit and slowly dragging yourself closer to the wall behind you. he pulls himself up with a rumbling, low toned groan. you’re to only watch, doe eyed and helpless, as he straightens out and drags himself closer within the cast of light that sits within the middle of the room. similar to a half tamed beast stepping out of the dark, nothing but muscle and menace wrapped within the shape of a man, he emerges — rough, rugged, and handsome with his features etched in a glare.

your breath is all but slammed out of your diaphragm come the realization of this same face always distinctly watching from his dim booth at the bar wafting across your brain. you think you can recall his name. something boring, something plain — jack.

joey.

his arm is rising and with it, he brings his finger that points to a closed door some feet away, near the water heater. “toilet. got some toothpaste in there wi’a brush — mornin’ and night, brush your teeth. shower at dusk. you’ve got a few snacks there,” his finger drags towards a tall iron shelf pressed flush against the wall beside it. the two, bottom ones hold nothing but gallons of water and a few plastic cups. the upper two house what looks like a few tubs of trail mix, granola bars, potato chips, dried fruit packs, and crackers.

john.

you’re staring at him — eyebrows pushed just the slightest bit inward and a small frown pulling at the corners of your soft lips. john could almost take the expression as you being . . disappointed in him, honestly. it makes his gut twist, the hairs on his arm rise. he pauses between his words, letting his own brows furrow as his lips remain just barely parted. a heavy silence overtakes the interior of his basement, a man and girl, caught within a quiet so thick that it feels alive. the light bulb overhead hums with electricity, similar to this very moment, while his eyes search yours for fear, trepidation, tears. his broad chest slowly heaves up and down with the weight of his breaths. they’re slow and measured . . . calculated. there’s an apology waiting on the horizon — something that he’ll never give.

he takes one step closer, heavy boots scraping against the concrete and the sound echos off of the basement’s walls. there’s something almost soft in the manner of how he tilts his head, examining you the way a wolf studies a timid rabbit — patient, silent, waiting for you to make the horrid mistake of moving first.

you don’t.

you remain quiet. you sit still.

“go to sleep.”

it’s the last thing he gruffs out before he’s turning away from you and dragging himself up the stairs, each step groaning and splintering underneath his massive height and weight. the door’s hinges creak as he opens it and before you know it, he’s gone.

𓏵

morning spills in slow through the thin rectangular windows that sit almost a foot and a half taller above you and nearly directly beneath the ceiling. you blink against the sharp sting of sleep. it blurs your eyes — thick and foggy. your bones feel heavy, like they’ve been replaced with metal underneath your skin. he’s upstairs.

you can hear him. the floorboards creak below his boots, pipes shudder as water runs, you can make out the firm slam of a cabinet. he lives here, it’s clear. each step above has a certainty to it, like he’s done it tens of thousands of times. you don’t fall apart. you think that you should, however . . . you don’t. there’s nothing but the dull throb of dismay that overwhelms your chest. not because he took you . . but because he didn’t ask.

you recall the many occasions at the bar where the both of your sets of eyes would meet. the way he’d lounge comfortably in his usual booth, ice blue gaze stuck on you as if he were studying something fragile yet foul. you never minded his stares. they made you feel good, even. you enjoyed the turmoil that would sometimes cross his face. you knew that he wanted you, just as the rest of the men there did. more than that, you enjoyed reading how glaringly clear he knew what you were and ached for you anyway.

there was something cruel about it. how he never touched, never approached, never even tried to talk to you. just stared. as if you were a drink he didn’t dare sip, but just held to his lips, breathing in the burn.

as you slowly sit up, finding yourself reminded by the heavy, iron clasp that rings around the fragile width of your ankle, part of you wonders if you’ll even see him today.

‘morning and night, brush your teeth.’

you let your tongue lave over the roof of your mouth. you taste rust, you taste the copper of your bitten tongue after trying to scream when he snatched you as his, the sour tang of an inkling of fear, the faint sweetness of being glad he chose you. you force yourself to stand, nice and slow.

the chain rattles behind you. it’s heavier than you thought, you limp your entire way towards the door prior to cautiously opening it. inside, the bathroom is small — nothing but a frosted glass shower cubicle, sink, and toilet. it’s all bleach white, however the floors are a soft grey tile. as promised, a pink toothbrush, tongue scraper, and tube of spearmint toothpaste sit within a plastic toothbrush cup. slowly, you limp further inside, startling yourself come the image of your reflection within the mirror above the sink.

mascara’s smudged underneath your eyes — dark bruises of sleep. a shadow resting on warm, brown skin. your locs swing against the skin of your waist in tangled, proud cords. they remain a bit frizzy at the root where sleep and a certain man’s polyester shirt have agitated them.

you haven’t cried. not a single tear. not when the chain bit your ankle nor when the basement door shut you in like an unwanted prayer. there’s a sweet poise that wades within the brown pools of your eyes, wide and soft. you’re not broken. there remains a glimmer that reveals you’re still here, you’re still you.

again, the chain shifts as you deposit your weight more closer to the sink. you can’t help staring at the tube of toothpaste as you run the bristles of the brush over your teeth. you’d like to think of it as a kind promise, a reminder that he wanted you exactly like this. beautiful, clean, and tethered to him. you can almost forgive him for the both of your current circumstances come you looking at it that way. and when you spit the minty, green foam within the basin, you prepare yourself for the door beside you to push open and his voice to emit from within the gloom, deep and booming. nevertheless, neither happens.

nearly an hour passes before the basement door opens again.

you’ve taken your position upon the mattress like it’s been yours since the beginning of time. you sit within the middle of it, legs crisscrossed, silently watching how his calves and shoes appear first. his jeans are gray today — you’d personally guess that they were originally black but after years of wear and tear and laundry cycles, they’ve faded into this shade here. he wears a pair of western style boots too, they’re black with a snipped toe and slant heel. his shirt is a plain black button up. the sleeves are rolled up past his bristly forearms. he carries a tray with him on one hand and on it, a plate of something that emits a spiral of steam, the other holds a clear, plastic cup of what looks like orange juice.

his expression is less mean today. within the sunlight you get a better look at his face as he continues the trek all the way down the steps.

he’s big.

scarily so.

broad shoulders stretch against the seams of his shirt. he’s not cut from stone and marble — you can make out a layer of softness around the unrefined strength he carries. there’s a hint of warm flesh that settles over his abdomen and arms, cognate to a warning that he is real. he’s sturdy, heavy, impossible to move when he decides to remain planted. his biceps swell when he shifts the tray in his hand. it’s almost as though the muscles pushing up against his skin are impatient. gleams of the sun spills across his thick neck and chest, making him appear more man than statue. you can almost imagine what it’d feel like to be pinned under all that weight . . . the firm press of him molding you soft.

arctic blues are steady beneath bushy brows and he wears a subconscious almost-there frown.

he’s handsome.

he stops at the bottom of the steps and you watch his fingers curl tighter around both the cup and tray. “ ‘m gonna sit this in front of you,” he says, voice barely a croak. “you try somethin’, it’s gonna be a problem.”

your nods are small, but they’re there.

his jaw moves. “. . . alright.”

he walks closer. with him, he brings the fresh scent of cedar and a cool, mountain breeze as if he’s dragged a piece of outside in solely for you. your tongue sweeps against the seam of your lips, catching the whispers of mint as your eyes remain fixed entirely on the tray where you can make out the sweet smell of syrup curling up to meet the subtle bite of his body wash and cologne. he’s all danger and wilderness when he stands directly above you, his stature blotting out the light of both the bulb and sun as he comes to a complete halt . . looking down at you over the broad slope of his nose. his eyes are dark.

“you brush your teeth like i said?”

his voice is rough velvet, deep and serrated with something that sounds like care though it feels more like an order. once more, you quickly nod. the chain jangles at your ankle, gentle as a whisper.

he hums — it’s a low, resounding sound — buried vast within the depths of his chest, and you’d think he was almost pleased . . like you have done something to reward the plate he holds in his hand.

slowly, he lowers himself into a crouch, bringing the tray and cup with him. your chin drops as he does and stomach gurgles on command upon the view of two, golden waffles with crisped edges drizzled with syrup. next to them are hash browns and a jewel-dark fruit compote composed of blueberries, peaches, and strawberries. he sets the tray down on the floor gently, followed by the cup.

“eat. all of it. don’t pick at it, understand?”

no room for oppositions are left. your answer comes in the form of you shifting forward to grab hold of the plastic fork laying beside the plate. you stab the prongs inside the fluffiness of the waffle to lift the entire thing up to your mouth and bite into it needily. syrup drips down to your fingers, sticky and viscid.

john watches your teeth sink into the pastry and for a split moment, he relaxes.

this is how it’s meant to be. you fed, clothed, warm, safe.

all night, he’d battled with himself for not feeling bad about this. is he the said villain in all those fairytales his father used to recite to him when he was a boy? would he be banished to all damnation for this when he’s long gone? could he possibly be the monster lurking underneath the bed, demon hidden inside a closet — the very thing mothers warn their children about when they whisper comforts full of nothing and lock their windows?

he drags a heavy hand down the thatch of his facial hair as he stands within his kitchen, trying to wipe away the smile that threatens to overtake his entire face.

just perhaps he is.

𓏵

within a week, you build a routine. it’s shaped around john almost entirely. each morning you wake to a new day. subsequently, you brush your teeth, take a seat upon your mattress and patiently wait for him to bring you breakfast. it’s usually waffles, but occasionally he’ll switch it up for yogurt and granola or a sweet oatmeal sprinkled with crisp apple chunks and cinnamon. you eat, he silently watches, and when you’re done, he takes your tray and disappears back upstairs.

the front door slams shut after the pipes groan for a few minutes as he washes some dishes and soon, you hear the firm thud of a car door closing, skittering of an ignition, and heavy tires roll over gravel as he, assumedly, leaves for work. from then on, you’re on your own for a few hours. he doesn’t come back until dusk. by that point, you’d already walked around the basement until your feet grew black with grime and traced your fingers across every crevice and cranny. you know he’s home when you hear his truck pull back inside of the driveway. you can’t help the feelings of flurry and wicked anticipation as he opens the front door with a loud cough and clear to his throat.

boots are kicked off and you listen carefully to the floorboards creak as he gets himself comfortable. it teeters into ten minutes every time before the basement door opens and he enters while holding a new pair of pajamas, panties, socks, and on occasion, a box of apple juice or even fruit punch.

interestingly enough, each pair of pajamas he brings are your pajamas. they aren’t bought from a store or even a tattered old t shirt he no longer wears. no. each article of clothing is familiar which lets you know that somehow, maybe after he knocked you unconscious that first night, he managed to slip inside your room at the inn, pack up all your things, and bring them here with you. you feel . . strangely appreciated come the realization.

he lets you swallow your drink before you’re allowed to shower. once you do, he carries himself back upstairs to work on supper.

chili, roasted rabbit, pork sandwiches, sloppy joes, slow cooked ribs — he’s an abominably good chef. you‘ve learned to recognize the sounds of his cooking: the dull clatter of a spoon against a cast iron pot, the sharp hiss of meat encountering hot oil, the soft hum he sometimes fails to swallow down when he’s tasting a sauce directly from a ladle. by the time he brings your plate down, your skin is scrubbed clean, scented of fresh powder and coconut from the soap he provided in the bathroom. your legs always remain tucked close to your body, a sign to showcase your surrender, chain faithfully looped around your ankle like an old friend.

he crouches down each time to set the tray down in front of you. he never says grace, only murmurs one word, ‘eat,’ and from then on, he watches. most times, he takes a seat upon one of the bottom steps, others, he remains standing about a foot away with his arms folded tight across his chest. you gratefully swallow each precious bite, lick your lips and fingers free from gravy or sauce, all while his eyes burn a quiet promise into your bones — you’re here, you’re his, you’ll never starve again.

when you’re done, he’ll make a pleased sound, a grunt or a hum, before he takes the tray and grumbles out a quiet order, “you get some sleep now, you hear me?”

and when arrives the door closing shut with a finalized click, you get comfortable beneath a large, sherpa blanket, close your eyes and drift away with the taste of him lingering behind your teeth — savory, sweet, and something you’re quietly beginning to crave.

𓏵

john hears your voice for the first time when your indefinite stay with him teeters on day twenty.

it’s while he’s walking back upstairs after taking your empty breakfast plate and cup and for a moment, he almost misses it — the delicate scrape of your words slipping past the hush of the basement. nevertheless, it finds him on the steps . . soft, uncertain, shy . . . and completely renders his body still. you haven’t spoken a word to him this entire time . . only head shakes, nods, or unnerving stares. twenty days of your silence has been ringing louder than any scream could. the sound of it makes something inside of his body tighten, ache even. he keeps himself immobile, head the slightest bit tilted as he thinks for a moment that his sanity has finally slipped. but, you end up saying it again, a little clearer this time after having to clear your throat — still soft, although more brave.

“can i have m’braidin’ gel? i wanna retwist my locs . . . please?”

his head turns over his shoulder to look down at you first before his entire body follows. “yeah?” he asks, voice quiet. it matches the volume of your own. “. . finally found your voice, hm?” as he shifts the tray in his hand, his boots make a lone step groan. “could’ve asked me sooner, don’t make me guess what you need down here. i’m not a mind reader, lass.”

he examines you for a long moment — jaw working back and forth as though he’s trying to memorize what you look like asking for something from him all nice and sweet. “right. i’ll get it sorted later on. comb, gel, wha’ever you need.”

you nibble on your bottom lip while giving a shaky nod.

he catches the way your shoulders curl in, how your eyes hold onto his as though you’re afraid he’ll disappear into vapor. his lips twitch with an exhale and he dips his chin, squinting his eyes and narrowing his focus in the same way he does when he’s looking down into the scope of a rifle or into you. “s’good. you jus’ keep askin’, yeah?saves me havin’ to pull it outta you. we clear?”

“mhm.”

his gaze drags over you one last time, taking in your bonnet covered head, quivering press of your mouth and twisted hands in your lap. you were so nervous to ask him that. he huffs and finalizes the conversation with a nod. “alright.”

hours drift by with you buried within the basement’s weighty quiet. you drift in and out of sleep, dreams leaden with the shape of john. you’ve never met a man like him — chances are, you’ll probably never encounter one in your future neither. you can’t pretend to hate your current predicament. in a sort of fucked up way, you’re appreciative and somewhat even pleased to have garnered so much of his attention, his want, you managed to inadvertently invoke a need so primal within him that he decided to seize you for his own. you haven’t had such warm and hearty meals since you were a toddler and though you only see him three times a day, maybe for a total of half an hour gathered all together, it’s clear that you are something john . . . if not someone he likes then at least one he cradles possessively within his calloused palm. granted, his care is exuded more as pity with an odd display of sharp edged intensity . . part of you simply wants to take what you can get.

the shell your ears seem to flutter when the front door is heard being pushed open and the familiar, soft tinkling of his keys. he clears his throat with a loud huff, walking this way and that until you hear him making his way for the basement door.

you lift yourself up slowly — straighten your spine and take in a deep inhale through your nose as it opens.

his steps are heavy and he doesn’t say anything, only tosses a small, plastic bag upon your single pillow when he’s about halfway down the steps, leaving you to grab it with some hesitance. the weight of a small jar and sound of a comb crinkling within its plastic wrapping makes your next breath hitch.

words gather within the pit of your throat, small and sticky, “. . . thank you.”

“mm,” is all john gives, tired and quiet. “you want somethin’, you use that mouth and ask me. simple.”

he’s shrugging off his sherpa lined coat while walking deeper within the basement, rounding the stairs to produce that same, rickety chair he sat in after snatching you that first night. he lifts it by the backrest with intimidating ease, brings it with him within the middle of the room, and lets the legs crash down with a loud clatter that makes you flinch. groaning underneath his breath as he does, he takes a seat and allows his body to mold against the plastic — leans back, stretches out, widens his legs, and lets his head fall against his shoulder to rub slow circles against the side of his neck. underneath the pale glow of the lightbulb, you catch the coarse ash barbed along his sideburns and the cold blues of his eyes that are half closed as he gazes at you over the slant of his nose.

he maintains the position for a while — mighty yet patient as his boot taps a slow, unsettling rhythm against the floor.

your fingers tremble as you scoop gel upon them to begin to twist a loc. his stare is dark, all consuming.

“you used to do this every week?” he questions. his voice is quiet but not delicate — more like a test, like he’s pulling threads to gauge whether you’re soft or not.

your eyes are focused somewhere down and away as you reply with a small, “yeah — yes . . uhm, at least every week and a half.”

“mm,” his are pinned upon the gentle lines of your fingers

and the precise and slow method of the teeth of the comb at the root of a loc twisting it tight. “keep it up then. not lettin you turn into a mess down here. ‘s not what i brought you for.”

he begins to nod then, slow and careful, . . as if there were something he just realized. “gonna keep you tidy. pretty. proper. understand me?”

it’s not a question john expected to be answered, more a statement meant for you to swallow whole. a reminder that even when you touch your own hair, brush your teeth, scrub your body down in that shower everyday, it’s all for him. solely for him.

your response is softer than his grumble, almost lost underneath the thumping of his boot.

“. . proper,” you whisper to yourself with an unfocused gaze stuck somewhere between the space between the both of your bodies. you repeat the word as if you’re trying to taste what it feels like on your own tongue. “okay.”

a silence stretches on between you both. his boot carries on tapping, steady and controlled. not rushed nor bored, however just . . . there. you take it as some sort of a reminder — that he’s watching, that he’ll always be here even when he’s not physically with you. it’s grounding. it’s unsettling.

it’s beginning to feel like a fact of life.

with gel slick between your fingers, you have to tighten your grip around the comb to firmly twist another loc. you’re curled inward towards yourself, chin bowed. your neck feels warm underneath his stare.

“no one ever took care of ya, did they?”

it cuts sharper than any insult could. his tone isn’t laced with cruelty, he asks it in a matter of fact tone. you don’t have to answer, he already knows what you’ll say.

when you pause and your shoulders pull tight, it only solidifies john’s assumption. “figures,” he says as his fingers scratch through the mat of hair decorating his jaw, voice low and tight. it reads almost as though he’s peeved with himself for being right, like your story confirms something ugly he already believed about the world. “runnin’ around that bar, dressed like that, doin’ what you were doin’. could tell from a mile off, no mum or dad anywhere around you. no one’s ever kept a strict eye on you.“

another silence. this one thicker than the last.

you swallow a tensed wad down into your throat.

he leans forward, places his forearms on his knees and clasps his fingers loosely between them. the pure blue of his eyes are shadowed beneath his eyebrows when he murmurs, “you were what . . . eighteen? nineteen?”

you know what he’s asking. and though something buried deep within you wants to lie, wants to even ask him ‘what are you implying?’ especially after so many years of having to do just that, something even stronger wants to tell him the truth. so with your chest tight, you try to breathe through your nose, slow and careful. but your stomach twists as you quietly reply, “s-sixteen.”

john scoffs as he reclines back within his chair. it takes a while for him to speak again. he lets your answer hang within the air, heavy and blue. “. . . just a fuckin’ baby.”

that title of endearment makes your skin warm. you thought he would have tutted in disgust, called you every other form of a doxy or trollop in the book even, however . . it’s horrifyingly clear that as much as john and his feelings are rendered stupefied by you, you are still someone worth protecting instead of using. given his form of protection is outlandish, it’s still protection.

his eyes settle on your hands where they hold a loc once more, “how long were you stayin’ at that inn?”

your fingers twitch, “some months.”

he licks his lips, goes back to rubbing at his neck as if to resolve some tension from it — the stroke of his hand firm and pressing. “you were never goin’ to get outta that. you know that, don’t you?”

you did know. you don’t respond.

his voice dips again, low and grumbly, albeit this time . . no longer is the tone of it testing, it seems almost tender. purposely so. “you were just waitin’ for me to come and pull you out.”

your breath catches and before your heart can really begin to knock against your ribs, he’s standing up, slow and careful with a breath exhaled. “gonna make you stew tonight. beef, potatoes, garlic, thyme. eat a proper meal. sleep like you should.”

you’re staring up at him, eyes wide and glossed over beneath the one, shining gleam of the lightbulb.

“you’re mine now,” he adds, tired and final. it’s the first time he’s said it. the first time you truly feel it. “that means i take care of you. and you let me.”

𓏵

it’s the scent that fills the basement first — thick and smoky. it curls up within the corners of the cemented walls as though it’s been simmering all day and filters in slow, wrapping around the entire space of it. when the door creaked open for the second time within the next hour, it’s to john still dressed in his work clothes, carrying a familiar tray. you sit upright upon your mattress, body tensing out of habit. the faint scent of cigar smoke clings to him beneath the potent scent of the stew and you try to think about it . . . john with a cigar dangling from his lips, fat and brown, as he held a pepper grinder over a bubbling pot on the stove and twisted at it.

he descends down the stairs, crosses the short distance from them to you to kneel, knees faintly cracking beneath his weight, and places it down in front of you.

your soup wades inside of a pink, plastic bowl. the rim is decorated with a design of flowers on vines — alongside the plastic being a little chipped and color of the flowers fading, you can’t help but notice that it looks old, however new. you guess that maybe he picked it up at a thrift shop . . maybe it reminded him of you. the broth inside is dark and glossy, the kind that sticks to your ribs before you even touch it. you take note of the chunks of tender beef, half cloves of garlic, onions, and potatoes the size of your knuckles, softened just enough to split with the serrated edge of a butter knife. rosemary and thyme float upon it all like little green signatures.

there’s a buttered roll on the side — thick and soft. a folded napkin. wide, plastic spoon. and a cup of water with a lemon wedged carefully on the rim.

you spare a peek up at him though john’s face is unreadable. not hardened over with anger, not softened with care neither. just . . set.

he straightens up and stalks off towards the stairs without a word and by the time your spoon touches the broth, he’s gone.

the first bite makes your eyes water. not from heat nor spice, but from something more difficult to name. the beef falls apart with the simple nudge of your spoon, the garlic is sweet, the broth is deep — swimming deep within it, comfort and something that feels like guilt yet not. it clings to your tongue when you go to tilt the bowl towards your lips. the roll tears easily between your fingers, the lemon water burns clean.

it all tastes, feels like an apology. it reminds you of all the nights no one’s fed you. of all the men who paid for your body to leave you out in the cold when they were through. and you’re reminded of john, a man who decided to drag you underground yet spoons warmth and consideration into your life with root vegetables, bay leaves, scented soap and foaming body scrubs, two, firm pillows, a thick blanket, and routine.

it’s too good. too real.

the effort, the sheer thought of it all . . . you think it’s more terrifying than anything else he’s ever done to you so far.

upstairs, around a corner and a few feet away, the house breathes around john. the oven is still warm, the lights are dimmed and the bottle of wine he’d used for the stew still remains uncorked on the counter, bleeding its scent into the kitchen similar to a quiet confession. he leans against the pantry cabinet with his arms folded and eyes focused out of the sliding door at the calming landscape of the lake and acres of pine trees surrounding his cabin.

you’re eating.

good.

for what it’s worth, he does carry a sense of pride knowing that he’s able to provide this for you. he started that stew before dawn, before your eyes probably fluttered opened for the day actually. seared the meat, chopped the vegetables, let the bones boil for broth, and skimmed the fat with a spoon like he’d done in that godforsaken base camp twenty something years ago . . only then it was for a dozen men. now, it’s all for you. he’s been telling himself it’s all to keep you strong, healthy, useful. who knows, maybe he would have liked to make something of a little house cleaner out of you.

but, he knows better.

he likes knowing that you’re fed, that you’re warm, safe. bound to him by something as simple as a home cooked meal. he pictures you down there, legs folded, hands cupped around the bowl while you chew slowly as though it all may vanish before your eyes.

he sucks in a deep inhale through his nose and clenches his jaw.

you’re becoming something . . . something dangerous. he doesn’t know how to quell it.

there’s a soft ache that spans across the distance of his chest — dull and settled low within his ribs, similar to a pressure change before a nasty storm. you’re a quiet thing, he’s learning that now. meek also. nonetheless you’ve eased your way deep within the cracks of his routine and settled there, not fast nor loud, but just . . there.

john tries to shake it off with a grunt. rolls his neck, takes a swig out of that wine bottle, drags a hand down his face. “pull it together, mate,” he murmurs to himself.

he goes about his nightly practice — wipes down all the counters, scrubs the dishes clean. a soldier’s habits. the lights hum as he moves about the house, locking up the doors, flicking off switches, checking the bolt on the hatch of the door that opens up to the basement. no need to go back down and grab your bowl, john doesn’t think he can see you like that . . legs tucked, eyes glistening and heavy with the pretty features of your face dimly lit by that small bulb.

in his bedroom, he sheds the day like second skin . . . peels off his long sleeved thermal first then tosses it onto the chair beside his king sized bed. the nipping breeze wafting through an opened window rushes across the scars on his arms. he doesn’t look in the mirror, he doesn’t need to. he knows what he’ll see. he moves slowly, each action measured and even. sets the alarm on his old bell clock then reaches a hand beneath his mattress to graze his fingers along the cold metal of his twelve gauge remington 870 mcs.

his thoughts drift when he finds himself laying beneath his sheets . . not to his time overseas, his ex wives’ shrill voices, nor to the men he’s lost . . . but to you.

a drumbeat muffled by a thin fog — his pulse pounds beneath his eyes as he stares up at his rotating ceiling fan. he forces his sight to lock in on a random blade and follows it round and round, hoping it can clear his thoughts. he’s used to the same memories flooding his brain after he lays down each night . . . dust and gunfire, athena’s silence, bonnie’s venom, names etched into stone with two dates underneath. however, tonight is different. you’re all that he can think about.

you move like warmth, like something from a dream long forgotten. thick thighs folded atop of each other underneath the frayed hemming of that old t shirt and locs long enough to cover your back like a curtain. john lets his thoughts carry to you lying there beneath the very blanket he’d snatched from off of his bed. he pictures you breathing slow, cheek smooshed against a pillow and lips pouted and swollen from the aftermath of the stew.

you don’t know.

you don’t have a clue about how fucking mad you’re driving him.

this feeling is unfamiliar. this isn’t just want . . it isn’t completely soft neither. it’s something else entirely. something old, ancient — like it’s always been dormant within him and has now been stirred awake.

it’s the way you whispered ‘proper’ underneath your breath . . as though the words he chose were sacred and you weren’t too sure if you could repeat them with the same capacity. the way you handled your own hair for him . . the fact that you don’t ask for much yet still can’t help looking at him as if he could hand you the moon and all her stars if he wanted to. god help him, he might try at this point. john’s jaw clenches and a muscle twitches near his eye. he doesn’t move, doesn’t flinch, barely even breathes. he lets the feeling throb inside of him, lets it fill him and swell.

this thing. this want. this need to protect . . possess . . provide.

it’s depraved, sure. he won’t deny it. however, it’s clean too. like snow peppering a bloodstained ground or barbed wire wrapped in velvet.

“she’s mine.”

it’s the last thought he has before his eyes drift closed. not a question or even a hope, just fact and a truth as old as war.

𓏵

he wakes early.

crack of dawn — six am. he always does. years of it carved deep within his spine like notches. his eyes blink open just before the shrill of his alarm clock begins to clatter upon the nightstand and he kills it with a single slap of his palm. the day is gloomy, therefore his cabin is buried within a sort of oyster grey glow. john likes it . . . it invokes feelings of some sort of nostalgia. he listens to the wind brush through the brittle leaves of pine trees outside as he drags himself to his bathroom to start a warm shower and brush his teeth.

no work today. he thinks of maybe heading down to the bar — hasn’t been there in about two weeks. he’s aware that he can’t completely stray away from visiting . . especially when he has no reason to anymore. two regulars gone missing around the same time, it doesn’t take much for one person to piece two and two together.

he brews his coffee in silence and cracks four eggs into a buttered pan with practiced ease. pieces of bread browns in an old toaster and a few links of sausage crisp in a shallow pool of oil until the surface of them scald. he doesn’t cook like a man wanting to impress — it comes naturally. your plate is assembled neatly . . eggs, sausage, half a grapefruit with sugar dusted on top. your toast is cut into triangles with butter and a bit of grape jam spread thinly across each piece.

it’s not the first time he’s brought you food, but it’s the first time john lingers at the door before descending down to where you are.

“mornin’.”

you lay upon the mattress underneath the comforter with your hands sandwiched between your thighs for warmth. your shoulders are trembling — softly, but just enough to warrant john’s hard stare. he stops right at the mattress and watches you sniffle before you timidly raise your eyes to glance up at him. a beat passes . . .

“you’re cold.”

and your nose is running, too. “. . i brushed m’teeth.”

“why didn’t you tell me last night?”

you shift your gaze away and give a small shrug, “i-it wasn’t that important.”

john’s jaw clicks as he tenses it closed. your breakfast tray is then lowered down to the ground beside your empty stew bowl. “you’ve got no fuckin’ sense,” he utters as he snatches off his coat. he doesn’t ask, doesn’t wait neither — he forces you to sit upright so that he can toss it over your shoulders and guide your arms through the holes. it smells like detergent and woodsmoke . . leather and gunpowder, him. his warmth still resides in the threads, you can’t help closing your eyes and melting into the oversized fabric while your teeth chatter.

he heaves a great sigh after he’s done, as if the ordeal took a lot out of him. “you feelin’ alright otherwise?”

your nod is slow, “just tired.”

“mm,” he’s walking back towards the staircase to grab that familiar chair from underneath it. “well, i still want you to eat. get some fuel.”

you lean forward and as he takes a seat, your trembling fingers reach for a piece of sausage first. you only get it halfway to your mouth before its falling back down onto the plate into the bed of scrambled eggs. john watches you try again . . eyes squinted and lips pressed into a thin line. he doesn’t like this, he finds. not one bit. “jesus christ, kid,” he huffs underneath his breath before he’s standing and crossing the short distance on over to you. you flinch as he crouches down, grabs the plate and stabs some of the eggs on the spears of the fork before he’s slipping it past your lips.

he doesn’t say anything else, just begins to feed you in steady, measured motions. every lift of the fork is guided by a sort of quiet frustration. not angry — not at you, but at the situation. at the shivering, the new paleness that sits beneath your eyes.

the eggs are warm and fluffy, tasting faintly of butter and herbs. you chew on them slowly, eyes flitting up once or twice to only find his already locked on you . . sharp, blue, and assessing. as though he were counting how many bites you can manage.

the sausage is slipped between your lips next. salt and pepper hit your tongue first, then the slight kick of paprika and sweetness of maple. you chew, swallow, and lick your lips when you’re done. he catches that too. still crouched, still close. when he focuses on splitting the grapefruit half into two wedges with the side of the fork, the plate tips a bit within his huge palm. “open,” he demands while holding the edges of one between his thumb and middle finger. you do. it’s sweet . . cold . . pulpy. he tilts the wedge gently as you suckle at it. juice trickles slow and steady down his hairied knuckles.

and when the wedge is drained dry, membrane sticking up and faintly molded with the indents of your teeth, john is feeding you the other.

“told you to speak up when you need something.”

his tone isn’t scolding. it isn’t gentle neither. your hands curl around the insides of the long sleeves of his coat where they halt as he stands and starts to make his way back towards the stairs after you’re done. “if i catch you goin’ without something again and you don’t tell me . . .” you let your imagination fill in the rest as an uneasy silence drags on — his hand squeezing around your throat, no more toothpaste so that your teeth can rot, lack of meals for a week. “me and you are going to have a problem. we clear?”

your next words are a slip of the tongue but they fall off of it naturally, “. . yes, sir.”

you watch how he pauses midstep. the muscles of his back ripple as his spine tenses and he takes a slow breath in. your words hang between you both, thick and muggy. he doesn’t look back at you right away, just stands there before he gives a slow nod . . a motion of approval wrapped in warning. “i want you to get some rest. i’ll be back soon.”

𓏵

john has errands to run.

grocers, florist, gun shop, then to the pharmacy to pick up his meds and some remedies for you. he doesn’t want to . . . he truly doesn’t, but heading to butcher’s is his final one. the place is a wasteland for sorrow. he tries not to appear as aggrieved as he truly feels as he takes his usual glass of scotch and settles in within his booth. having been gone for a couple weeks, and knowing that you won’t emerge from within the night this time has his patience worn thin.

you, you, you. you’re all he can think about. it all festers behind his eyes like a killer migraine. you — curled up beneath his coat, drowsy and ill in his basement, soft in the ways he desperately tries not to name. he sees you in the tilt of the female bartender’s smile, hears you in the soft drone of the jazz playing through the jukebox. he thinks he even smells you — something warm and sweet, like a coconut cream pie.

each swill of scotch claws at his throat.

“. . prettiest thing in town and she just,” snaps. “disappears. like that.”

“got to do shit to her that my wife could never handle . . i’ve been walkin’ around with blue balls for damn near a month straight.”

they’re off to his far left . . a couple of buds gulping down bottles of beer as if they were holy water. the buzz of the bar’s usual ruckus dims down into almost nothing as their voices sharpen into john’s focus. his ear twitches as his jaw works slow and tight. they don’t say your name . . they don’t have to. he doesn’t turn his head, doesn’t give them the dignity of eye contact. simply shifts in his seat just enough for the light to catch the side of his face, shadow and flame licking at the edge of his beard.

his glass of scotch now sits empty.

they continue to chatter — it’s all vulgar, greasy. john isn’t exactly sure of when he stands and slaps a couple of bills down on the table, but his hands move without command . . controlled, smooth, and deliberate. a soldier’s movements. old muscle, old anger. it’s not until he’s standing behind them that they are finally aware of his presence. one of them glances over his shoulder mid chuckle and the sound dies out over his tongue upon gauging the clear intent frosting over john’s eyes.

he leans in close enough for them both to smell the pine and smoke on his flannel. “finish that sentence,” he murmurs, voice low and guttural. “and i’ll break your fuckin’ teeth on this bar counter.”

a silence follows . . heavy and humiliating. the one on his left shuffles in his seat, eyes suddenly pinned on the condensation dripping down the surface of his beer bottle. “sorry, man,” he utters. “we ain’t mean nothin’ by it.”

john continues to stare. he lets the silence drag on, lets it scrape its nails down their feeble spines. “she’s not yours to talk about.”

he leaves them there, limp and pale underneath flickering neon lights, and steps out into the evening cold. a crisp breeze hits him like a baptism . . he breathes it in and lets it settle.

his blood is rushing.

he needs you.

time feels like it’s moving slower as he stalks his way towards his truck to yank the door open with little grace, slide into the seat, and slam it closed. he has a white knuckled grip on the steering wheel and maintains a hard stare that pierces through the windshield while trying to control his restraint.

vile bastards.

your face burns within his memory. the way your lips curled around that wedge of grapefruit, how you gently blinked up at him during the whole ordeal, eyes holding something deep . . sweet . . and pure. john hadn’t even realized he’s been muttering to himself until the words fall from his lips, deep and quiet, “mine. she’s fucking mine.”

his fingers turn the key within the ignition and the engine growls to life.

by the time he pulls into the gravel stretch of his cabin, the sky’s darkened into a mellow indigo. he kills the headlights, sits still for a moment, then opens the door with purpose to round the back and collect the paper bags out of the bed of his truck that hold his recent procurements.

warmth swells against him the moment he opens the front door. his cabin smells like mahogany and cherries, disinfectant, and if he wants to be honest . . . you, a little bit. he pauses . . breathes it in deep . . and lets his restraint fall at his feet. he doesn’t have time to place everything in their respective areas — groceries in the fridge, pantry, and freezer, new botanicals on the windowsill, meds and bullets in his nightstand drawer. no, he needs to see you.

he unlocks and opens the basement door slowly . . not wanting you to hear the hinges creak in case you were asleep. the single lightbulb casts long shadows of his stature against the wall as he walks downstairs . . . and there you are — on the mattress, blanket wrapped entirely around you like a cocoon. your eyes are open just enough to watch him move closer toward you then take a beat to notice a splatter pattern of grainy vomit leading towards the bathroom door. you’re shivering worse now, lips chapped, and eyes sunken in.

silence settles.

“fuck,” john bites out underneath his breath.

he moves with purpose now . . crouches down, touches your sweaty forehead with the back of his fingers. “hey. you with me?”

a hiccup then a mewl. you seem to try to bury your face deeper against your pillow as john shoves a hand in his pocket to produce a ring of keys. he singles the longest one out and shoves the ridges of it inside the hole of the iron cuff around your ankle to twist open and toss away. with little hesitation, you’re unraveled from your blanket and scooped within his arms. you don’t resist. john feels the festering heat radiating off of your body as your head naturally tucks itself against his chest like you were made to fit there. a fucking fever. he thought it’d been a simple cold. he wouldn’t have left you if he knew how bad it’d get.

his home is dim, quiet as he emerges from the basement with you in his arms. everything feels so still compared to the storm that’s raging within him. he doesn’t bother turning on any lights, merely carries you down the corridor, around a corner, upstairs, and enters his bedroom to head straight for the bath. he flicks a switch, a warm glow floods in. everything in here is pristine — stone tiling, brass iron fixtures, and soft towels folded impeccably on the shelf. you’re shuddering and eyes keep fluttering as though you’re trying to stay awake. “i got you,” he utters as he kicks the door shut and gently sets you down upon the closed toilet seat. “you’re alright.”

with the water running and gradually beginning to fill his clawfoot bathtub, he’s adding some foaming bath liquid beneath the faucet and watches as soft white bubbles begin to bloom. the scent is subtle — shea butter and something like oat — something calming, something clean. he then diverts his full attention back to you. you’re slumped where he left you . . . head lolled against the wall beside the toilet, eyes unfocused and glossed over. small. vulnerable. his fingers are calloused, yes, nonetheless he’s tender . . careful as he peels your frilled socks, little sleep shorts, his coat, and your shirt off. it’s as though he’s unwrapping something delicate rather than undressing someone sick. he handles your limbs like they might shatter as he guides you to the tub.

the coolness of the water startles a quiet whimper from your lips. “i know, i know,” he’s shushing while holding you steady within just one of his arms. tenderly, he lowers you in deeper, watching your locs fan out against the surface of the water akin to a halo. “gotta get your temperature down.” he gathers them slowly and drapes them over the rim of the tub so that they don’t soak.

“good girl,” he murmurs with a delicate stroke to your cheek with his knuckle to feel the lingering heat. “you’re alright.”

you’re shivering still as you lay your head against the cool porcelain and close your eyes. you feel like shit . . utter and complete trash, down to your bones. but then his touch his there — his arm wading within the water as he wets a cloth and a moment later, strokes it against the folds of your neck. the sensation is quiet bliss — incomparable. you croon a small sound of solace.

the water sloshes gently as he shifts to wet the cloth again and this time, wrings it out to then lave at the underside of your arm. you’re too weak to lift it on your own, however you make sure to give a small, trembling exhale of gratitude. john studies you for a moment . . . at the way your lashes sit heavy against your skin, how you can’t help nibbling at your bottom lip, the goosebumps raised along the surface of nearly your entire body. “i had poor judgment,” he grumbles. his voice is edged with guilt. “wasn’t thinkin’ straight. i’m correcting it now. next time i’ll act faster, i promise.”

it all radiates off of him in waves. you don’t have the strength to assure him that it’s really not his fault, that since you were a child your immune system has simply loved to shut down on you at the worst of times and from the tiniest of things . . albeit, you guess that you can appreciate his sentiments all the while. he seems to . . care. undoubtedly and deeply.

he continues gliding the cloth alone your body. the sound of the water wading about the tub is all that fills the room, no small talk, no hums. just your ever so shallow and trembled breaths and the steady hush of his motions. “you’re not gonna get this bad again,” he’s mumbling now with his head turned away from you as he focuses on wiping along your shin down to your toes. “not under my roof. not on my fuckin’ watch.” his voice is thick and low — like it’s costing something to even push the words out.

the sleeves of his blue and grey flannel are rolled up to his elbows however soaked and he ignores them to reach deeper in and underneath your back to sit you upright. his face is close to yours now . . so close that you can make out the flecks of silver that fleck around his pupils within the icy pools of his eyes. you can feel him hesitate . . yet, he seems to ignore some type of instinct to instead pass his thumb along your temple for one, slow stroke. “you need somethin’, you tell me. doesn’t matter how big or small. doesn’t matter the time of day.”

you nod, barely. melting within his touch feels good, but above that, it just feels right too. “. . didn’t,” you swallow and your body shudders. “wanna be a burden.”

he clicks his tongue and drags in a raspy inhale, “you’re not.”

and that’s that. simple. like the word burden will never belong to you, not in his house. not with him.

when the water’s cool and your teeth start to chatter again, john’s lifting you from the tub and carries you to the counter. steam clings to both of your bodies, humid and thick. he sets you down beside a folded towel and shakes it out to begin patting down your limbs. his hands never leave you . . not for long. everything’s quiet. he’s methodical but not mechanical. he avoids looking for too long at one area — not out of disgust . . or even restraint, really. just a tight lipped kind of control, the kind you only learn when you’ve had to hold a trigger steady with the safety off. he doesn’t give himself the luxury at ogling at the softness of your thighs or curve of your waist. he doesn’t let his breath hitch.

but he thinks about it.

god, does he think about it.

the image of you — glistening, pliant, body unguarded and slick with sweat engraves itself behind his eyes like something sacred. it doesn’t particularly excite him in the usual sense . . not when you’re like this, but it pulls at something deeper within him. something tight and aching just beneath his ribs.

you trusted him enough to go slack within his arms. let him bathe you. let him see you.

the weight of that is not lost on john. he decides to treasure that. it all settles low in his chest as he swaddles you within one of his cotton t shirts. it swallows your frame whole. you’re so small in it . . . so fucking small. he has to roll the sleeves up for your hands to be revealed. everything about you makes something click into place inside of him — not quite rage nor need — just an avowal. and it reads that whatever part of the world turned you into someone who suffers quietly and who throws up alone on cold basement floors will never touch you again. not if he can help it.

after he eases a pair of soft, fleecy sweats up your legs, john takes a moment to just take it all in — he watches you breathe.

your head tilts ever so slightly into his touch as he gathers your locs into the opening of your bonnet and situates it comfortably onto your head. he’s been meaning to take it down to you . . . he just never had the chance. and well, he won’t say that. he’s had the chance, he just never wanted to. it’s the one piece of clothing that smells most like you.

he feels it again. that aching pull. not entirely tender, not entirely possessive . . it’s scrambled between the two.

“i’m here,” he murmurs as he holds your face within the cradle of his hand. your eyes are closed, lips parted . . you’re a second away from sleep as your body slumps against his. “not goin’ anywhere.”

he doesn’t think he could leave you if he tried.

𓏵

you wake to the smell of something sharp and savory drifting in from another room — potent onions, garlic, and oil. your eyes open slow, momentarily stung by the afternoon light filtering in through thin, wine red curtains from an open window not too far away from the king sized bed you lie in. the world feels heavier, slower as if you’ve been emerged under water for too long. sheets are twisted around your legs, the pillow underneath your head is dented in from the weight of it, and your skin still blazes warm.

there are voices. a handful of them — all deep and accented.

you catch the first . . bright and teasing, “cap, you cook with anchovy paste? bloody hell, old man.”

another more flat, unmistakably dry, “it’s a base for flavor, mactavish. he’s not wrong.”

finally, a third. steadier and amused, “didn’t really think of you as the domestic type, price. you nesting now?”

you begin to sit up . . slow and careful. your head throbs with a slight ache at both temples. you so badly want to just lie back down and let sleep pull you under once more, however, your curiosity has always gotten you into more trouble than you’d like to admit.

barefoot, you tiptoe slowly towards the bedroom door to peek one out through the opened slit of it. a dim hall . . walls decorated with a clock, occasional plaque, and fishing poles. you decide to take the chance and slip out and down it. wood creaks beneath your weight, not silent but subtly. when you stagger downstairs and round a corner, you see them . . about ten feet away in the kitchen through the opened door. three men, all large in stature and in various states of casual tension, standing around the large island with drinks in hand and laughter upon their lips.

one of them has a balaclava pulled just beneath his nose . . the only smile you can’t see. he leans against a wall near the stove, closest to john who stands with his back towards them all — broad shouldered and stiff as he bases something in a pan.

he must have felt you.

because the moment you take just the tiniest step closer, his head lifts, tilts slightly, then he turns. the room falls quiet when his eyes fall upon you.

no one speaks. they all look — not rudely, but curiously . . like they weren’t expecting anyone else in the house. like they’re recalibrating something quietly amongst themselves. you freeze . . out of fear, out of exhaustion and john’s jaw tightens. his voice cuts through the air . . . low, even, and threaded with that same, unequivocal tension he uses when he’s not asking, but commanding.

“back to bed.”

you hesitate with your fingers curled loosely around the wall corner and blink up at him.

but he doesn’t raise his voice. doesn’t soften it neither when he takes a few steps towards you and adds, quieter, meant only for your ears, “you don’t come out unless i’ve said you can. that still clear, peaches?”

there’s no malice in it. no threat. just iron certainty.

you see the men behind him glance at one another but say nothing. not a laugh, smirk, nor lifted brow. if anything they seem sharper now, more alert. you swallow then give a slow nod . . — obedient. “yes, sir.”

something behind his eyes flicker and his lips part as they glaze over. his tongue pokes lightly against the inside of his cheek as he nods too, its light but it’s there. “yeah,” he utters. “you go now.”

john watches you give one last glance towards the men behind him before you’re disappearing back around the corner, hand held against the wall for balance. he turns back and walks towards them when he’s sure you’re fully gone and returns back to cooking as though the entire interaction didn’t happen. and they don’t mention you.

not directly at least.

they sip their drinks. johnny quips a few jokes. simon retorts back to each one with a dry remark. kyle tries to steal a chunk of potatoe from a pot. but it’s different now. john feels it. there’s something quieter that lurks beneath the conversations. something measured.

“bit outta the way, innit?” simon asks, nodding towards the hall but the implication is clear.

john shrugs, using tongs to flip a patty over. “better than the city. quiet. private.”

johnny gives a sideways stare, “private’s one word for it.”

“don’t,” kyle warns. there’s not heat to it. just a warning tone, like he knows better than to prod at something that john hasn’t willingly explained.

still, johnny has never been able to help himself. “she’s got you nesting, cap?” he gestures vaguely to the pink utensils that john one day suddenly realized were there, nestled between a few plain, glass plates on a drying rack. “i mean . . fuck, do i smell candles?”

“they’re not candles,” john mutters. they are air freshener plug ins but he won’t explain that.

“. . there’s flowers on her bowl.”

“shut up and stir the sauce.”

grumbling, johnny replies, “sir, yes, sir.”

simon leans backward, arms folded and eyes still trained on the hallway, “she looked rough. that why you’ve been dodgin’ comms?”

john doesn’t answer at first. he grabs a glass and his glass decanter of whisky to pour a drink — straight and neat. only after a slow sip does he rasp, “she’s sick.”

“and now?” there’s no judgment in kyle’s voice — just that same, quiet insight that’s made him the backbone of their team more times than either of them can count.

“now she’s resting.”

the way he says it closes the subject. or, at least it should. but johnny — soap has always had a thing for poking bears. he leans on the island and tilts his head towards john with a crooked grin, “you always take in stray birds, mate? or just the pretty ones?”

the silence after that stretches, tightens. simon rolls his eyes, kyle bows his head and pinches his nose bridge. john’s eyes flick up slow and cold. “stir the fuckin’ sauce.”

and he does.

the air never fully settles. not with you only a few rooms away. but the men know the rules. they know when to push and when to fall back. and they know their captain well enough to recognize the difference between a thing he’s managing and a thing he’s guarding.

you are the latter.

𓏵

they stay for a couple more hours. there’s food, small talk, and old stories traded like currency between them all. you hear laughter from the room you lie in, muffled beneath your dreams as you doze in and out of sleep — it’s the kind of laughter shared between men who have bled for each other. the sounds are comforting . . john’s especially. you enjoy hearing it because it lets you know that he’s there, that he hasn’t left. you’re aware that the other three men are obviously some type of comrades to him, however . . they’re still men. it’s now been instilled in you to walk on pins and needles around them all. you know what they’re capable of.

when they finally leave, it’s just past dusk. you’ve only been up again for a few minutes and have taken to trailing your eyes across every inch of what you’re sure is his room. it’s all very . . him, you realize. the king sized bed you’re lying in is dressed in thick, dark sheets, the fabric now warmed from your skin. wine red curtains drape over a large, single window, letting in only the thinnest shreds of fading light. the bathroom door is off to the side, its frame nicked here and there like it’s been kicked shut more than once. against the opposite wall is a large dresser, solid and made of wood. it’s top holds a scattering of personal clutter — a watch with a frayed, leather wristband, a wallet having to be rubber banded shut due to how many bills are stuffed inside it, a butterfly pocketknife lies open as though he’d been using it before tossing it aside, and a ceramic dish chipped on one side holds loose change and a set of dog tags.

there’s a faint scent of mahogany in the air, threaded with something sharper and more cool — his cologne.

and in the corner, almost buried inside of it is an old recliner that sits angled towards the bed. the leather is cracked in places and worn smooth in others, clearly well used and appreciated. a heavy, wool blanket is thrown across the back of it as if he’s spent a few nights in it rather than the bed. every surface is utilitarian but not cold. it’s the space of a man who doesn’t collect things without meaning. you sink deeper within the pillows that surround you come the sound of slow, heavy footsteps making their way down the hall.

he steps inside of the room almost tiredly, yet his presence completely fills it before his voice does. his eyes sweep over you, assessing, lingering just long enough to have your breath catch within your chest. “you’re still pale,” he murmurs while closing the door with a quiet click. he crosses the fairly large room in only a few strides to stand over you. “open.”

your lips split open so that he can lie two, tiny pills upon your tongue then tip a cool, glass of water against them for you to swallow greedily. as you gulp, your hands reach out to cover his as he has to tilt the glass higher for you to drink more. you feel the both of your fingers twitch at the simple touch. it’s enough to make your heartbeat stutter as you look up at him. his eyes are now barely squinted. it’s looks as though he’s confused about something.

“you’ll stay in here again tonight,” he says after the cup is empty and sat down on the nightstand. “where i can keep an eye on you.”

it takes you a moment to realize that . . you are out of the basement. the bed beneath you is soft just as it is firm, the air is open. and if you wanted to, you could run. the thought hovers, but john’s tone makes it difficult to picture yourself trying. “okay,” you softly reply.

he stands there for a beat, spine pulled tight and eyes hard before he suddenly takes a seat at the edge of the bed right beside you. “need to check somethin’,” he tells you as a heavy hand reaches out for your neck for his fingers to lightly press into and almost massage. you want to fight it, but find you’re unable to. his touch is codeine . . you melt and let him lay a hand flat upon your chest as you inhale. “yeah,” he mutters. “got some mucus in here. and your lymph nodes are a bit swollen.”

his words are clinical but the way he says them isn’t, something warm is traced underneath his tone. you’re aware that his thumb now rests within the hollow of your throat, barely moving. you don’t want it to. you watch him inhale a big breath. his eyes erode as he seems to wrestle with a thought sitting right at the tip of his tongue.

“just what are you doin’ to me, little girl . . .”

the words hang there between you both, heavy and quiet. you open your mouth to say something but not a word comes out. what is he doing to you is what you want to ask in reply. you should want to run but the urge is nonexistent. you should have been crying for weeks now, voice driven hoarse from all the unanswered screams for help . . yet, here you lie . . in his bed — comfortable, at ease, and taken care of.

his thumb brushes along the slope of your chin and you only nuzzle the side of your face deeper within his pillow, simply blinking up at him.

“wasn’t supposed to be like this,” he admits, voice quiet as though he were talking more to himself than to you. “wasn’t supposed to wanna keep you this close.”

you sound sweet when you wearily ask, “were you . . s-supposed to hurt me?” he could have. a tiny part of you thinks that he should have.

it’s shocking to watch him shake his head. “no,” he mutters. his hand is pulled away so that he can rub it down his face. “. . no. i was just . . supposed to keep you there. fed, clean, quiet, safe.” hand feeding you wasn’t in his plan, watching you eat nearly every night wasn’t either. he wasn’t supposed to be so concerned about you. you were supposed to be something for him to save. he was doing everyone a favor by holding you down there. you would have eventually landed yourself in the wrong hands, doing what you were doing. but, you’re too soft. you’re softer than he should like.

he studies you for a longer moment. “you’re prettier than you realize,” he says at last, words gravely like they’ve been clawing their way up to his throat for a while now. “more delicate than you realize. it all . . sticks. horribly.” his mouth tightens underneath his stache as his eyes flick up towards the ceiling for a barely there eye roll. he seems annoyed at himself for admitting so. “ ‘s been a long time since i’ve had someone stuck in my head like this.”

“. . . oh,” you breathe and curl your finger around a loose thread hanging from the comforter. are you gonna send me back to the basement? do you hate me for how i make you feel? . . . i don’t wanna go back out there.

because even if you wouldn’t like to admit it, john has stuck to you too. in the worst of ways. granted, before today he’s the only person you’ve seen for nearly two months straight, he still lingers in your mind differently than a captor should. he’s in the taste of the tea he sometimes forces you to drink, in the scent of mountain rain that clings to every piece of furniture here. he’s a presence you’ve been learning how to map without ever meaning to.

“ ‘m sorry, john.”

something sharp flickers over his entire expression when his name is whispered off of your tongue. it’s the first time you said it . . and it’s paired with an apology. this is what he means. you’re an enigma. his jaw works nice and slow for a long moment as he tightens his hands around his knees. “you make me worse than i am,” he finally says — like the admission’s been chewing at him for weeks and now it’s irrevocably spilled out. “couldn’t stop watchin’ you down at butcher’s. every time you laughed, every time you touched some bastard’s arm, let ‘im drag you away, i was there . . . drinkin’ it in. like a bloody fool,” he’s hunched over now, head bowed and body worn. “was bad enough when you were just a stranger in a room full of strangers. now you’re here . . in m’bed, my home, lookin’ at me like that and—“ he snaps his jaw shut.

your heart skips over every other beat as his gaze lingers on the line of your fingers, all of them now lightly gripping the blanket around you.

you’ve got no idea what i’d do to keep you.

but john doesn’t say that.

without another word, he pushes himself up from the bed, the mattress dipping then springing back up in his sudden absence. his boots thud against the flooring as he crosses the room for the dresser to produce an amber bottle of syrup from the drawer. you follow him with your eyes, replaying his words over and over within your brain. “this stuff is pretty strong,” he says as he pours the golden liquid within a small, plastic cup. “but it’ll help with your symptoms.”

he returns beside the bed to gently slide his hand beneath your head and tilt it forward. carefully, he feeds it to you, watching how your plush lips wrap around the rim of the cup. “that’s it,” he murmurs. “go to sleep.”

you lie back and let the warmth in your chest fully embrace you. he hovers for about a moment, eyes tracing your features underneath the dim light before he’s stepping back to his recliner in the corner just close enough to keep watch.

𓏵

in the earliest hush of the morning, before the sun has even warmed the floorboards, you feel him . . looming, waiting. when your bleary eyes flitter open, you aren’t surprised to see john standing at the foot of the bed. grey and brown waves are combed off of his head and slicked towards the back with drying water — he seems to have just exited the shower. he wears a cream thermal henley shirt and over it, an old, faded carhartt coat. black, double knee cargos are his bottoms and he has on leather work gloves. a beanie dangles from one hand . . a chain and ankle clasp from the other.

“i’ll be back around two.” his voice is rough and quiet. the chain jingles with only the slightest of his movements. “. . . no funny business, yeah?”

he seems to have made a decision while you were sleeping. because he lets his arm outstretch to gently let the clasp and chain spiral into a pile upon the dresser.

your eyelids flutter.

you nod.

you’re beautiful underneath the rising sun — bonnet on, lips swollen, body curled tight within the center of his bed. he hesitates before he gives one back. “. . alright then, peach.” you watch him open the bedroom door and within a split moment, he’s gone.

you wake up again nearly three hours later.

the light is soft and filtered through the curtains — the way the world

looks makes you feel as though you’re still dreaming. for a long while, you barely move. you feel better . . almost completely, but your head is still muffled with sleep. you think of him. you let your eyes reshape him at the foot of the bed — at the towering mass of him . . big and burly. gruff and quiet. and for once, your body isn’t burning when you finally sit up to let the comforter pool around your waist. you can think. move. breathe without effort.

and so, barefoot and weak limbed, you hobble out of bed to shuffle towards john’s restroom. your toothbrush sits atop of the counter, seemingly ready for you. you’re happy to see it. your mouth tastes like sick. you spend nearly five minutes scrubbing at your teeth, tongue, and the roof of it to get it out.

a shower’s next. you stand there underneath the nozzle, letting the pressured water beat at your bones. the heat seeps deep into your muscles, loosening something tight and stubborn inside your chest. you climb out when your skin begins to prune. you don’t want to search his closet without permission — a large part of you is scared of what you’ll find. instead, you settle on a shirt of his that’d been draped over the back of his recliner. it’s lightweight and airy, stops at your knees from the sheer size of it.

after, you stand there . . . within the middle of his room.

no more rest. you’re antsy. you feel good. you have energy.

your eyes flick over towards the door.

his home is quiet when you peek an eye out past it, blanketed in a stillness that’s oddly comforting. his hallway is wide and the walls are made of weathered timber, giving the space a cozy edged charm. you take notice of the small, recessed spotlights in the ceiling. you let your fingertips drift along the posted fishing poles, stop to read a few plaques, ‘Operational Service Medal – Iraq / Afghanistan,’ ‘Task 141 – Courage Through Adversity,’ ‘In Service of Crown and Country – Captain J. Price, 22nd SAS Regiment.’

your eyes grow a bit wide. a military man. a captain at that. it all begins to click in place for you.

you keep moving, nonetheless . . pass by a small door that you can’t help opening to stick your head into. it’s something of an office with papers stacked in perfect precision atop of a wide desk, file cabinets, and bookshelves taking up an entire wall that house texts of warfare, strategy, and language. you don’t go in. something tells you not to.

you drift downstairs and down the halls, drawn towards a large, sliding door beside the kitchen.

and that’s when you see it.

his backyard.

if you’d even call it that.

it completely takes your breath away — not because of its extravagance, but because of the sheer, rugged beauty. his home is a large cabin, you realize that now. the sliding door opens out to a wide wooden deck that overlooks an expansive, glittering blue lake. pine trees flank the entire property on all sides in tall, silent rows like sentinels. there’s a dock that stretches out from the yard, ending at the lakes edge where an old rowboat wades peacefully beside it.

you hadn’t expected this. not this kind of freedom, not this kind of man.

the more you move, the more his home reveals more about him. you pass the mantle in the living room where a few dusty framed photos are propped upon. one makes you stop. it’s him and a few others — the men from the night before — all in military gear with handsome, satisfied smiles. there’s the one in the skull mask, his eyes glimmering with content. the crude one’s wide grin. the mellow one’s furrowed brow. and john in the center, anchoring them all. beside it is a small, wooden box with polished medals inside, a coin etched with a foreign seal, and dog tags, dull with age.

on the coffee table . . field knife beside a smooth, iridescent river stone. a leather bounded journal. half full bottle of beer.

every corner of his place tells a story. one that you’re beginning to desperately ache to know.

but no where feels like it was ever meant for anyone but him.

not until you see the changes: an unopened jar of braiding gel seemingly forgotten on another hallway table, your lipgloss tube — the one you had at the bottom of your bag the night he dragged you away, now laid within a porcelain dish by the door . . . a few of your clothes, hand washed and drying from a clothesline at the side of the house. it’s all so much.

you step out onto the deck and take a seat upon the top stair. there’s a bird song bristling through the trees. you close your eyes and inhale a deep breath.

you could run. but, you don’t.

something about this place, something about him is starting to feel like something else entirely. something almost like home.

you don’t know how long you sit out here.

time dilates in places like this. without the ticking of city clocks or the drone of traffic, your awareness shifts. the sound of boots thudding makes your heart lurch as you quickly stand and turn to face john who stands in the threshold of the door behind you.

he wears a heavy toolbelt around his waist now . . his hair is messy. he looks tired.

“i w-wasn’t . .” you’re shaking your head. “wasn’t gonna leave—“

he’s squinting out at the sun around you. you look sweet bathed within her light. “come here.”

“i—“

“come. here.”

you’re hesitant. he’s unreadable. his fingers twitch out beside his thighs as though he’s physically restraining himself from reaching out and pulling you in himself. you don’t want to make him angry. you don’t want to be bad — end up back in the basement. now that you’ve gotten a taste of freedom again . . or at least, something freedom adjacent, you don’t think you’ll be able to endure it again. your whimper is quiet, “alright.”

john watches you slowly walk your way toward him — you’ve showered. you look better . . . . you’re . . short. god, you’re fucking short.

when you halt directly in front of him with your bare toes only a few inches away from his muddied boots, he’s pleased. you watch him shove a hand inside the pocket of his pants to produce something.

it’s a collar.

it’s delicate — almost pretty in a way that makes your throat tighten. it’s designed to sit right at the hollow of it, not a flimsy ribbon or a heavy strap neither. it’s a perfect in between width, enough to be noticed by a passerby. enough to feel present without choking you. the base is made of blush pink satin, soft and gleaming underneath the light, edged with tiny stitched seams that give it a noble finish. over it is a line of vegan leather to keep it sturdy. running along the satin is a delicate line of opal gems, each one nearly nestled in place so they catch and scatter light with the slightest turn of your head. at the very center, where a buckle or clasp might be, sits a small, golden padlock. it’s heart shaped, surface polished enough to showcase your face when you lean in closer to look at it.

the lock isn’t a simple lock neither. beneath the dainty sparkle, inside the metal’s hidden weight, is a tracking chip.

he doesn’t tell you outright but you feel it in the gravity of the gesture. he presents it like an order. ‘no chain and lock anymore. this is your new, permanent accessory.’

he watches you closely as you reach a hand out to gently rub your fingers along the gems. “i don’t want to wonder the whole damn day.”

your face shields your true emotions as you swallow. “mhm.” you can’t help but adore it.

after a long beat, he’s adjusting the collar within his hands to lean in and reach behind you to clip it on. when it’s done, his fingers linger against your skin. “no more basement,” he utters. “no more chain. you stay up here. you be good . . you let me take care of you. that’s all i ask.”

you’re nodding. you’re stepping closer to him . . instinctively. “no more . .?” your breath hitches. his words seem to open a dam. no more basement, no more men, no more filthy fingers prodding at you, no more spatted insults after they’re done, no more cold beds, no more single cups of instant ramen.

john watches your breathing start to pick up. it’s all quick. it happens too fast. “hey,” his voice hardens as he tugs, nearly snatches you into him to lean forward and press his forehead against yours. “hey. see? breathe.”

he feels your fingers curling within his shirt. you’re holding him tight, a little too tight, but he doesn’t mind. your heart’s thudding like a jackhammer, stuttering and racing in unpredictable bursts, each beat sharper than the last. “john,” you’re mewling his name, soft and sweet. god, the hold you have on him. “john.”

he’s closing his eyes come the sensation of your soft, trembling hands sliding up his chest to wrap around his back. you have to stand on your tip toes and he has to learn further down for when his head moves so that he can place a hard kiss against your temple. “my girl,” he’s murmuring and engulfing you entirely within him. “fuckin’ angel on earth. my little girl.”

“d-don’t wanna go back out there—“

“—you won’t,” he’s reaching down and grabbing you by the back of your thighs to encourage you to give a little hop and wrap your legs around his waist. “not without me you will. never again.”

you’re shaking so bad. john can’t help but feel like this has been a long time coming. this reaction from you. for so many years you’ve been on your own. surviving like that. he rubs your back as he carries you both deeper back inside his cabin. he heads for the living room to take a seat upon another recliner . . kicks it out to begin to rock you both in slow, steady motions as you grip at him, hard and needy. “wanna be that, don’t you?” his voice is quiet and gruff as always. “wanna be my little girl? just a sweet thing for me to take care of?”

you’re nodding against his shoulder, melting against his touch. “uh huh,” you sniffle. “i do. j-jus’ yours.”

john emits a sound — something low and rumbly. a tired hum. “yeah,” he mumbles. “you’ll be my peach . . and i’ll be your pa. good and simple.” he says it like a vow, a staking claim. for he’s yours too. you think you forgot about that. it feels good to know, right.

“ ‘m pa,” you utter back softly. it sits nicely on your tongue. it fits. “my papa.”

john seems to hum deeper this time as he strokes the hand on your back closer to your waist line. “yeah. just yours. all yours.”

𓏵

life becomes . . good after that.

it becomes beautiful, even.

you live out your days within john’s three storied cabin on a lake, ten miles out from any other source of life . . with him. you sleep in his bed . . sometimes curled beside him, most times curled beneath his massive weight because you run cold and he runs hot most nights. it just works. he cooks for you, breakfast and dinner . . lunch too on his off days as you sit atop of the island and watch with big, brown eyes full of admiration and stupor. you cook for him too, small things — little cookies, cupcakes iced with pink frosting, prep a thick turkey club for him to take to work, or even a simple thermos of his favorite coffee before he’s out the door.

some mornings, john takes you out onto the lake in his rowboat to catch pikes, trouts, and catfish. you watch the entire time with a certain sparkly eyed innocence that makes his chest tighten — not a single complaint uttered. other days, he makes you watch him clean his guns. the collection he has is enough to cover the extensive dining room table. you’d have never thought it to be so hypnotic., but there’s a rhythm to it . . the careful motions, the shine of metal against his fingers, the quiet focus in his eyes. you sit perched on his lap all the while and watch him casually reassemble each weapon with a certain type of casualness that makes the base of your spine tingle.

sometimes he naps with you.

you learn that he’s forty eight . . a middle aged man. he needs them and tells you that you need them especially, too. you can become a bit cranky without one. and evenings are for slow kisses in the living room with the fireplace burning and the rest of the cabin enshroud in moonlight. each kiss makes your heart skip. every movement deliberate and layered with intensity and his authority. they all carry the weight of him . . his size, of his presence. it’s impossible for you to not feel like you’re drowning sometimes.

each brush of his beard against your cheek makes goosebumps pebble against your skin. his hands often explore — one sitting heavy at your hip, anchoring you to him while the other’s hand sometimes wraps around your throat or trace gentle lines up and down the curve of your spine. sometimes he whispers against your lips, letting his low, gravely tone punctuate the sizzling quiet of each moment. that’s my girl . . . sweeter than a fuckin’ peach . . . don’t you ever think about leavin’ . . . so soft . . drivin’ me insane.

he learns you and you learn him.

he learns that you hate cauliflower, when he leaves without saying goodbye, and that you bite at your bottom lip over and over when you’re concentrating. you learn that he hums softly when he cooks, that he drinks a cup of tea at night before bed, and cracks his knuckles a certain way when he’s thinking too hard. you get butterflies when you watch him tie his boots and he softens watching you style your locs every morning.

you learn that john notices everything — how you pout a certain way before you cry, how your shoulders tense when you’re afraid, and how your eyes widen when you see something especially beautiful — and that, somehow, it makes you feel entirely seen.

occasionally, a solemn sort of guilt overrides john's entire soul almost. you feel it when he stares at you for too long and when he holds you close at night. was this truly meant to be? though he won't say it, sometimes the feelings do come. you try to soothe them away through sweet, shy kisses and messy strokes of your fingers through his hair. throughout the entire ordeal, there was no where else you'd rather be.

albeit your initial feeling was fear, you consider it to be fate all the while.

the downside of what you both now consider yourselves to be -- a man and his peach. a bear and his little girl . . or at least, the downside for you is the lack of him. pure, unrefined him. you wake sometimes, to the sound of quiet huffs and tired mumbles. they squeeze themselves from underneath the closed bathroom door, engulfed within steam. on certain mornings, you press your sweet, pretty face against the smooth wood of the door, heart thudding and chest tight with a mix pf longing and frustration. the muffled sounds -- his low hums, the faint squelch of skin being pushed within a tight fist -- it all burns inside of you. you hate the feeling . . its akin to being a bystander to something that should be yours. but, that's the lesson, isn't it?patience. trust. desire stretched so thin so that when he ultimately does decide to take you, it'll be nothing short of consuming. you ache to be the one he's moaning for, the one he's claiming.

you don't try to hide the unhappiness that pulls at your face when he eventually opens the door fifteen minutes later with a thick towel wrapped around his waist and pearls of water dripping from the curls atop of his head and down his fur covered chest.

he always gives a slight smirk -- not teasing, not indulgent, not even apologetic -- just . . . knowing. "patience," he murmurs, brushing past the bed you'd sit within the middle upon, pillow clutched tight to your chest that you'd probably been battling with yourself not to hump flat. "yours . . . soon. learn to wait, peach. it'll be worth it. i promise."

and somehow, even as your jealousy stings, even as your body burns hot enough for him that it feels like your organs are melting within an inferno, you can't help but nod. because you trust him. and papa knows best. and when it's finally your turn, it'll be more than just satisfaction, it'll be a claim, from him to you. you to him. a joint release.

weeks build into another month.

you've had a long day, nevertheless, you're restless by the time the moon is here. thrill thrums beneath the cloak of your skin as you rub your thumb back and forth over that golden padlock that sits within the crevice of your collarbones. "not a single inch of you is allowed to be taken without me or my permission," he told you while the both of you were out on the lake one evening, weeks before. he said it through a breeze -- so flippant and indifferently that you almost didn't take him seriously. upon a giggle of shock being expelled from your mouth, he'd only glanced at you as his face remained even. "no joke. if i catch a finger, let alone something else even near that little jewel of yours, there will be hell to pay. all of you belongs to me . . . you will wait. you will learn patience."

it hadn't been fair. you remember the cold shiver that ran through you come his words. at first, you even tried to give a meager protest, but his gaze pinned you harder than any chains could.

now, sitting alone in bed, listening to him brush his teeth in the bathroom some feet away, a frustrated sigh leaves you. the temptation is unbearable. you stare at a pillow, the curved frame of the bed holster, the arm of the recliner -- so many things for your legs to straddle and hips to move as you'd grind all of the irks away until your brain melted out of your little pussy. but the collar, his mark, his claim, anchors you.

you hear the water stop running and light switch cut off.

he surfaces from the bathroom, wearing only a pair of loose, forest green sweats. you can't tear your eyes away. he's massive -- stocky, towering, every inch of him commanding attention without him even trying. nearly six foot four, broad through the shoulders, with arms carved from years of discipline and labor . . they subtly flex as he moves. his chest is wide and tapers down to a stomach that carries a layer of softness and thick mat of fuzz. you notice the salt-and-dark brown waves of his hair falling just past his ears, tousled from a shower, matching the same rugged and grizzled pattern in his beard. every glance reveals another detail you can't help but memorize, the strong curves of his biceps, thatch of hair on his forearms, hands, and knuckles, the faint scar near his temple, and veins running like corded maps down his arms.

your breath catches in your chest as you swallow. he's breathtaking and somehow, overwhelming. seeing him like this, casual and utterly exposed, sends a ripple of awe straight through you. your fingers twitch within the sheets. he's larger than life, impossibly real, and in that moment, you understand why patience, restraint, and every small tether of his control are part of the reason why you've fallen so irrevocably deep under his spell.

he moves about the room -- turning off lamps, closes the doors and curtains, checks for his guns underneath the mattress before he's finally slipping into bed and pulling you beneath him. "sleep," he grumbles against your skin. "i see that look in your eye. don't even think about it."

"but john--"

"no."

you're pouting as you settle against him. it's short lived. because being smothered underneath his weight is neuroleptic. you let your eyes drift close while listening to the coo of owls outside settled high within the bristles of pine and his deep, slow breaths.

𓏵

you wake hours later to movement.

it's something that you think you can ignore. sleep feels too good, you don't want to open your eyes. however, it persists . . for minute after minute. it isn't until you give a small whine of irritation when you hear him exhale a ragged breath. your eyes bat slowly open, squinting against the sharp beam of moonlight that pushes through the opened slit of the curtains. at first, you think you're simply dreaming still but the unmistakable sight is enough for you to force your eyes opened wider in case.

john lies beside you, the covers only sheathed across his waist. his fist moves below them with a slow, unhurried rhythm, each motion confident and purposive as the low hum of his breaths fills the quiet space between you both. part of you wants to look away in efforts to respect the boundaries he's set, but another part of you is wholly riveted. he glances at you briefly as you slowly lift yourself upon one arm, eyes fixed on the hypnotic up and down motion underneath the comforters. "try to go back to sleep, sweetheart," is all he rasps. "i'll be done soon."

you shift slightly . . . fingers flying up to your collar to rub at that padlock again.

the sound of his breathing, rise and fall of his burly chest, the deliberate strokes of his fist.

he hums softly, a sound almost tender, like he knows exactly what you're thinking.

"mm, please," you end up mewling, breaking, as you press your hands flat upon his chest, eyes transfixed on what's happening below his waist. "papa, please?"

"you have only but yourself to blame for this," he's kicking up his rhythm to a steady moderate. you hear a few shlick, shlick, shlicks as your pussy warms against the seat of your panties. ". . i don't remember pickin' this out for you."

it's a white, puffy, two layered babydoll slip you wear that he pinches between his fingers. there's ribbon tied at your shoulders and a bow threaded in the middle right upon the crease of your plump tits. you looked too sweet . . you open up something carnal within him. for a while, years nearly, john was convinced he'd finally gone impotent. notwithstanding, here you are -- here you've been, in his home, his basement, at butcher's, and his libido has risen to measures he didn't even know he could still peak. "lemme see it," you're laying your head upon his chest, face only inches away from his rising and falling fist underneath the covers as your fingers reach for them.

"you wanna see it?" john's breath is thinning. there's a slight curve in your back and your ass now sits perked up and positioned towards the window. he can't see what lies beneath your gown, but god . . he can imagine.

"yes, please?" you nod. he hears the little pout in your tone.

reaching for the back of your neck for two reasons -- to simply touch you and to keep you still for when he decides to toss the blanket from off of his lap, john then swallows, "fuck, such good manners," he utters. "yeah, i'll let you see it, peaches."

his sweats have been pushed to ring around his mid thighs. he's hairy. so much of it covers them, yet you cam't even focus too much on it because his cock now stands rooted upright only five inches away from your face. your mouth parts open as your eyes grow wide with the sight. it's nearly everything you'd dreamt about. thicker than it is long, with a fat, bulbous head that trickles ribbons of ivory down his fist that gathers into the rug of pubes at his groin. the line of his circumcision is obvious -- dark and bold . . matching his round and sagging balls that take up so much space that john has to open his legs a bit to give them room.

"oh m' . . gosh," you slur around the drool that instantly begins to pool upon your tongue.

there's a few veins scattered here and there that pulse with so much blood, it makes them strain against the skin. his cock is honest to god almost . . menacing to look at, but above all . . you're needy for it.

when you move to lean your face in even closer, the grip john has at the back of your neck tightens and keeps your face pinned against his stomach. "what did i say?" he asks quietly through his teeth. "patience."

your hips are moving. you sway them from left to right as your body betrays you in desperate, helpless rhythms. the ache of your pussy is unbearable, each pulse of his cock slowly trickling out more of his pre cum within your vision making your distress worse. "john," your voice breaks on his name yet the hold he has on you is firm, keeping you mere inches away from the very thing you crave. it isn't necessarily cruel . . just grounding -- a steady reminder of who holds the reins.

"i said patience," he repeats, quieter this time with his breath warm against the shell of your ear. it's clear he's fighting himself as much as he's fighting you.

your thighs squeeze tight together, trying to provide some sweet solace to your thumping clit as your chest begins to heave with strained breaths. you can't help it, you whine again, louder though muffled against his torso as you squeeze your nails into the mattress.

john exhales sharply, like he's seconds away from snapping. his hand slides from your nape against your bonnet to tug your head back so that you meet his eyes. the normal ice blue is dark and stormed over into what looks like a misty grey. they are filled with a hunger so raw that it makes you bite your tongue and pulse stumble. "you will learn to let me give it to you, not take," he growls, low and unshakable, though his jaw is tight enough to crack.

the command sinks low within your chest, heavy and molten, leaving you wide eyed, trembling, and obedient.

his grip stays there against your bonnet for a long, tensed moment and with his gaze locked upon yours, he seems to come to a decision about something. you can feel the war inside of him -- the rigid control he clings to, his gnawing appetite that wants to devour you whole. finally, with a low curse underneath his breath, he shifts his hand down to your jaw, thumb dragging along your lips. "fine," he mumbles, the word rocky and edged. "we'll find a middle ground. up."

before you can reply, he's hauling you up and manhandling as though you weigh but a pound. you're sat sideways upon his knees, inches below his cock now before he adjusts you until you're straddling them. "open those legs up," he commands, voice ironclad and tone leaving not a slither for hesitation. instinctively, your legs part . . revealing your panties. they're white, made of chiffon, and transparent. due to how much your cunt's already been leaking, john can see the barrenly visible contour of your chubby lips and the small bead of your clit pressing up against the fabric beneath the moonlight. "jesus christ." his tone is of almost disappointed unbelief, as though he's catching you misbehaving.

his free hand drags down his beard slow. "just look at you."

a wicked mix of shame and arousal coil deep within your chest as his thumb reaches out to press within your cheek. "panties ruined. that pretty, little thing's just starving, isn't she?" his voice deeps lower, accent seems to grow thicker as he softly asks, "bet you'd hump anythin' i put underneath you right now. pillow. that stuffie . . m'fuckin boot. doesn't matter, does it?" you're shaking your head, but he's forcibly doing it too with his fingers cupped at your chin. "you'd grind that filthy, lil hole raw if i let you."

unexpectedly, he's tugging your panties to the side, exposing your cunt to the cool air and his gaze. his cock gives a sharp twitch against his thigh. "touch 'er for me."

your breath hitches, body locking up like you've just been dumped into an ice bath. the order dangles between you both, heavier than the weight of his hand now on your thigh. you blink, lips parted, full prepared to mewl out a timid excuse because now that you're in it . . within this murky ring of john's lust and your own, you're aware that maybe, you aren't prepared for him. he's nothing like the other men you've experienced. he's firmer, darker, better. "c'mon," he hums. "give me a show."

your quivering hand slips down, slow, and unsure towards the wet heat between your thighs. the first touch makes you jolt, thighs twitch, and eyes snap up to his. he's akin to a predator -- eyes sharp, grip on your thigh made of steel as he holds it open. the faintest curl of a smirk sits beneath his mustache. "that's it," he murmurs, tone approving. "look at that . . you're already twitching. christ."

your fingers falter, still soft and doubtful, as they swipe between your lips with hesitancy. "fuckin' lousy. no. rub your clit, let papa hear how wet you are, peach."

the humiliation still sits there, but that tendril of fire uncurls hotter. you press at it harder this time with your middle finger, circling the small nub until a broken gasp is shred from within you.

john's words drag out slow and filthy -- warm pride cutting through stone. "there you fuckin' go. keep goin'. let me see it."

the faster your pace quickens, the slicker those noises get. he slides his other hand back down to get it around his cock once more and begin to tug at it you're beginning to drip before either of you know it. it's a thin line of wet that pours from your hole and against the sheets between his legs before it's breaking off as your fingers go to your entry to gather some and use it to rub your clit harder. your hips rock helplessly against your own hand and your whimpers spill into the air around you both.

"atta girl," john licks his lips, eyes focused on how your lips are hugged tight around both your fingers. "jus' filthy. makin' a damn puddle outta yourself."

your fingers stumble, pace stuttering as the knot inside threatens to snap too fast. john notices, of course. his grip around his dick tightens at the base. "ya gonna cum?. . yeah?" desperately, you're nodding. your eyes are wet with unshed tears as your breaths begin to puff out in weak, little sobs. it's been so long since you felt so good. you're starting to think you never truly did feel this good.

his jaw flexes. his restraint hangs by a thread. "pull that hand away, that's enough."

before you can splutter out a feeble 'no,' john's thick fingers are pushing yours out of the way to spread your cunt wide open. the sudden heat of his touch makes you cry out as your twitching thighs fight to snap closed. he's rougher than you were, thumb grinding your clit in slow, punishing circles. "see how it's done?" he quietly asks. "this is how you fuckin' touch my pussy, eh? rub it just right . . til you're drippin' down m'arm."

your nails are indented within the skin of his forearm as your head falls back. the noises you make -- you've never heard yourself so broken before. they're high and needy -- weak and torn. his cock is still in his other hand as he pumps at it faster now. suddenly, john is sat up and you're pulled closer into him. "you're mine," he hisses with a hard kiss to your jaw, sloppy and wet. "you understand me? no other man is gonna know how this," he pulls his hand back to let it fall right back onto your pussy with a loud, wet smack. "feels again." you twitch and hiccup, both hands now grasped at his hard shoulders.

you're nodding as his lips stamp a wet path down your neck. "you m-make me feel so good," you're admitting through a sniffle. "m-more. please -- gimmie more."

"mhm," john's rolling you both over to lay you underneath him. no more patience. the thread's been snapped for you both. "you make me feel good, too, doll." he hasn't been this hard in his life.

your cunt gushes against his fingers as he presses them up against the hole of her. he can't help darkly laughing as he keeps doing so -- just teasingly giving it some pressure with two of them. "so wet," he mumbles. "wan' em inside?"

you're nodding eagerly, eyes glossed over and mouth parted open as you do. "yes, sir," you breathe. "yes, please?"

john is groaning, rough and guttural. his arm curls around your back, pulling you closer against his chest as his legs split open your own wider. every press of his digits only has you clenching tighter around nothing -- so hard that it makes your womb throb in pain. the sound of his low chuckle and hissed groans only drive your brain into a thicker fog. "jesus christ," he breathes, beard brushing against your temple as he slowly prods in the tip of his middle finger past the first ring of muscle. he shifts slightly, hand sliding down the mattress as his cock nudges at your thigh. the stretch of his single finger is enough for your eyes to roll back within your head. inch by inch, it slips deeper inside.

a wet squelch fills the air when he pushes it to the knuckle and gives a slight curl. he grits his teeth at the tight spasm of your warmth around it and wastes not even a second before he's slowly stroking it in and out of you. "gonna fuck you good, peach," he murmurs. "no more waitin', no more playing. you'll learn to take it all tonight."

your juices dribble down his knuckle as a rivulet of spit starts a path down your cheek from your opened mouth. "uh huh." john's grabbing you by the face with one hand to lick his way inside and capture your lips for a messy kiss as his ring finger squeezes in beside the middle. your tongues slip along one another's faces as you both huff quiet breaths from the pure carnality radiating from off of the other. it's been a long time coming. when john starts to fuck you with his fingers -- each thrust firm and hard, angled right at the tender dollop of your g spot, you can barely squeak out a sound. your mouth is dropped open around a silent moan.

your legs bend around his waist and toes curl as your head falls back within the pillow beneath your head. it's so good. it's better than good. your pussy dampens more with each one until it's gurgling. john huffs, pulling just enough back to look down at you, eyes dark with hunger and something softer . . . -- pride, possessiveness, awe at how much you're already giving him.

your chest heaves as he forces you to keep still. "god, i've never seen someone so fuckin' pretty." he curls his fingers in deeper, presses just right, and drags shivers down your spine.

when you find your voice, it's but a weak mewl as you open your legs wider and chance a look down in between them to watch his fingers plunge in and out of your pussy. " 's so m-messy," you shyly reach down to feel the way she has to stretch around them. "keep goin', papa . . keep going."

his fingers never stop pounding into you as he bites a dark plum bruise into the skin of your neck. call it cuteness aggression -- you're driving him fucking crazy. "you're already close, doll," he huffs, voice just on the edge of a growl. "so fuckin' close. let me feel it."

you're louder now. you hate to be, but you are. your eyebrows furrow as you bite down upon your own wrist, hips lifting to swallow them both to the knuckle. he's right. you are. you're there. you're right there.

suddenly, your cunt clenches around his fingers as something inside of you snaps. your body's pulled taut as warmth floods out from your pussy and into his palm. you don’t scream, don’t moan, you barely even gasp . . broken little sobs tumble from your quivering lips as your body lurches with each one. “god — please . . daddy, please — hmph—“

john leans closer, forehead brushing against yours. his grip on your jaw is firm but gentle, steadying you as your body shudders uncontrollably underneath him and around his fingers. “shh, that’s it, baby,” he sighs. “fuckin’ good . . yeah, that’s it. let it out. it’s all mine.”

his thumb presses tight circles against your clit as his fingers hook inside of you, matching the sudden spasms of your body to help you ride the orgasm out for as long as you possibly can. he hums low in his throat, soothing you all the while. the vibration rattles through your entire body as he eventually pulls them out, nice and slow. you're twitching . . cunt convulsing underneath his stare as he uses that same hand, sleek with your cum to polish it over his cock with three, steady pumps. "won't you look at that?" he pats at it, just nice, firm slaps to watch the way your stomach flexes and quivers as you inhale a keener gasp than the last. "just perfect."

john then slips in behind you, broad chest sheathed in hair pressing against your back as his arms curl around your waist. you're both on your sides -- his weight is grounding. you feel the heat of him surrounding you entirely. "open these legs," he's muttering, reaching underneath your right one to toss it over the crook of his elbow and hold it back with his arm. "let me see how pretty she is."

you feel his hips shift. his cock wedges its way between the warmth of your folds, fat head dragging through the glossy seam of your cunt. every pass smears you wetter, coating him in it, and you hiccup on a sniffle at the lewd squelch of it all. he's hot, heavy, obscenely thick. you hear the rumble of his slow hums as his cockhead nudges at your puffy clit -- it's so hard that it's peeking beneath the hood at him. "christ . . ." his voice is rough as he squeezes at the fabric shucked up around your waist.

your thighs quiver. he's big -- the biggest you'll probably ever take. your stomach is overturn in knots that reveal both your hunger and fear as you give a soft whimper of half plea and warning. "easy now, you feel that?" his breath fans out above your head. he's huge . . you're entirely enclosed around him. you feel the way he makes his hips roll to make the fat ridge underneath his tip catch against your hole. he does it on purpose, he wants to feel your pussy twitch around nothing. " 's all me, sweetheart . . " he keeps at it, clit to hole, back and forth in a filthy rhythm -- spreading you wide without ever pushing in. your juices ooze down his balls. it's all so maddening. "little thing can't decide if she's scared or greedy."

the tip now sits snug against your opening, swollen and slick with the mix of your cum and his own pre. you're already stretched taut around it . . cunt trembling and clenching as if your body's already in disbelief at what it's trying to take. "just feel the head," he breathes as his hand slides over your tummy, palm wide and calloused to coax you through it as he finally begins to ease inside. "feels big, hm?"

the stretch burns.

your eyes are squeezed shut as you nod your head and hold onto the hand he has clutched at your hip underneath you. he doesn't necessarily force it . . . simply lets your body fight to try and take it all. he grinds that fat tip slowly in small circles -- pressing, retreating, then pressing again. each little push relaxes you more, blossoming your pussy around him inch by inch. "ohm'god," you mewl. you're violently shivering as the nerves in your stomach twist when his fingertips drag across your clit as to remind you that you want this. it causes a wave of slick to spill out of you and because of so, his dick sinks in a fraction deeper.

the sudden expansion makes your gasp loud, nails biting within the mattress and john is at your ear immediately, coo'ing against your skin, "yr'alright . . jus' let me in . . . atta girl. open up."

he keeps pushing -- slow. his girth pries you wide . . . completely extending your pussy until, with a wet, loud, pop, the thickest part of him slips inside. instinctively, your body clamps down hard. the noise you make isn't a moan, it's more of a wobbled sob that you muffle against your wrist. "bloody hell," john grits, head dropping against the top of yours. shit. it's incomparable . . . the feeling paramount. he stays still, cock throbbing inside as he strokes a soothing hand across your thigh. "look at that . . you took the head."

you're shaking like a fucking leaf, but god, you feel full. so full. so fucking full.

his hips begin to rock gently, shallow, letting you feel just that -- his meaty head grinding inside, inciting your walls to ease as each drag sends electricity through your core.

john's beard drags against the side of your face as he presses closer, chest to your back. "she's strugglin' a bit with the tip, gonna split you open if m'not careful." your fight to relax, but involuntarily, your pussy flutters around him, gripping him even tighter as though she isn't quite sure whether to pull him deeper in or push him out. your arousal still drips albeit, hot and runny over his length and down the fat globe of your ass. you hear him huff a short, husky laugh. "want me to make it fit?" he's humming, roughly cooing actually.

"uh huh," you're nodding and giving a small sniffle. "m-make it fit, papa. make 'er take it."

his fingers are back at your clit, rubbing steady, slow circles on it to override the sharp burn as he keeps working his cock in. wider . . wider . . wider. you're biting your bottom lip almost hard enough to draw blood as you press your head tight against his arm. he doesn't shove -- his hips are heavy and insistent . . letting you breathe when it becomes too much before he rocks further inside. "s-so big," your voice is broken and tiny. "it's too big."

"yeah?" john grunts. "it's too big, hm?" he doesn't want to hear that. you've begged for it. you'll take it.

by the time his hips are flushed against the cheeks of your ass, sweat peppers both of your hairlines. every vein, every ridge, every inch is buried within the hilt of your hole. the pressure is unbearable and unparalleled. -- it's all a heavy fullness that makes you keen against the pillow. "feel where i am?" john jostles you a little bit to press his hand against the base of your stomach. "deep in there. i'm all in, peach."

he doesn't move immediately, simply stays put to bask in the feeling of your pussy quivering around him for a few seconds longer. you're a tight, little thing. just swallowing him whole. he gives you a few moments more before he's drawing his hips back an inch . . slow and steady. it's too much, it'a perfect, and it's all so wet. he can't help pushing back forward, the motion blunt and full of weight to grind you open all over again. your cunt tries to fight him . . tries to cling at what's already inside, but john has always been diligent. his hips continue forward until he's deep inside once more.

you gurgle a straggled moan against your own bicep. it's all so much, yet your hips are pushing back . . chasing him in spite of the nervousness building within your chest.

it's all the encouragement he needs.

john starts a rhythm . . . just a few shallow strokes, allowing you to continue to adjust. each retreat is slow and sticky. his breathing is thin as he looks down at the picture -- at his balls flopped over his thigh, tapping almost caefully at your fat clit with each one. the pace is deliberate, meant to just stretch and tease. and soon, that same rhythm builds without him meaning to. longer pulls out before he's driving back forward and making the mattress dip with the force. your body begins to jerk with each push of his hips as your toes curl and every sound from your lips begins to get forced out even despite you trying to keep them in.

"yeah," he breathes. "yeah, there you go . . there you fuckin' go."

his hand slides up to your torso where your ribcage is to get a better grip on you. he needs you steady. "won't you listen to that shit . . ." a murmur beneath his breath.

his thrusts become punishing, every drag and slam harder, sharper, deeper until the mattress beneath you both starts to creak . . . and the bed post knocks against the wall. you're no longer simply lying there, your body is ricochetted off of his by the sheer force of his hips pounding up inside of you. and you're squeaking -- each breath knocked out from your lungs as your tits bounce out from over the bustier of your gown. your pussy swallows him to his sack with loud, wet gulps and tears begin to blur your sight when his arm slowly, gracefully slides around the front of your throat and his hand anchors at your shoulder.

the chokehold isn't gentle. he locks it tight underneath your chin . . drawing your throat up and back until your jaw points to the ceiling and to him above you. it makes your neck strain and every small sound you make is now squeezed into a higher pitch and unable to be quieted because you can no longer breathe without him letting you. "fuck," your toes are curled. ". . f-fuck."

drool seeps down your chin. john doesn't look away. his eyebrows are drawn so low that they nearly shadow his eyes. his jaw is locked hard . . but his gaze is fixed on you, completely unmoving as he drinks in how you look when you're feeling good . . . feeling the absolute best.

"so fuckin' pretty," he drawls out through his fastened teeth. "yeah . . . too fuckin' pretty." his hips snap harder, cock shoving through your folds with soaked plap, plap, plaps.

his size swallows you . . arms lock you down, thighs caging you in so tight you might as well be trapped inside of him. you distantly think that just may be what he wants -- you utterly engrossed by him with nowhere to go but where he takes you.

"papa," it breaks out of you in a sob. "s . . too much."

his mouth presses against your ears, he's cooing again . . rough and dark. "no, no. no. you can take it. my little girl's takin' it."

his praise burns through your veins hotter than any other word ever could. your legs kick out weakly but you try . . you keep giving yourself back to him, pussy clamping up tighter and tighter as though you'd rather die than let him pull out from it. the noises are obscene now as your slick thickens into cream. it's almost as if he's wringing her dry while simultaneously making her wetter. your body is caught within a brutal tempo that he refuses to let up on.

"fuck," you're crying now. you can barely hear yourself over the thunder of so many sounds. "p-please."

john's sounds are in tune with his pace. little 'hmphs' breathed out through his nose as his lips roll tight into his mouth with his focus. yeah, you're taking it . . . beautifully, might he add. your body is knocked forward with every thrust, but his arm around your throat hauls you right back into him each time. you're caged. he's so big that your body no longer even touches the mattress anymore, you're just inside him, swallowed by the stocky breadth of his body.

john notices a string of spit dangling from your plush, bottom lip. with a low grunt, he lowers his head, drags his tongue across your wet cheek to lick some of it off before crashing his lips into yours. it's not really a kiss, per say. his mouth moves, rough and hungry until you're nearly choking on both his cock and tongue as it slides against your own. you whimper into him, drool still trickling from the corners of your lips until it smears against the both of your chins.

john's huffing through his nose again, "breakin' that pussy in, eh?" he mutters against your lips. "pushin' her nice and wide." his accent is the thickest you've heard it.

your stomach flips as his words make your clit jump. " 's yours," you're nodding and pouting, looking like an absolute fucking doll. " 's your pussy, i . . p . . promise."

his chest heaves against your back. he won't take your eyes off of your face as he nods along with you, forehead pressed against yours. he's lost within you. to be completely honest, john didn't think he still had all this in him. but, you're impossible . . it's impossible for him to not want to pound you over and over and over again until his name is the only thing that rattles within that fogged brain of yours.

the grip he has on you suddenly falters -- not beacuse he's weak, but because he needs to move. he feels your walls convulsing again . . they tell him you're close and they beg at him to follow behind. his cock pulses in warning. he can't maintain the pace without breaking.

with a grunt, he hauls you forward then down. you huff at the abrupt change -- cheek pressed into the mattress, hands pinned beside your head with his own, and then his heavy body is covering yours, blanketing you in sweat and warmth. his dick never slips free.

prone bone.

your legs are spread just enough to allow him to rut down into you and god, it's so much deeper. his hips roll, burying every inch with long sticky stokes that makes your pussy drool onto the sheets. "fffuucckk." his voice is chasmal as his eyes roll back inside his head as if he's nearly gone feral from the simple feel of you.

you swear you can feel him in your chest. each movement punches a sound out of you -- warbled and tired.

john hears it. he loves it. "such a sweet girl," he growls against your cheek. "thaaat's it. sing for me."

he's bearing down on you. his balls slap meanly against your cunt as he keeps pounding through the mess she makes. his groans turn guttural, incessant, each one shuddering out of the depths of his chest as his pace gets cruel. john's lost in it. his mouth hangs open against your shoulder as he hears you breaking apart underneath him . . just completely seizing up. you're driving him mad.

he hasn't had a cunt take him like this before.

you're nothing but a rag doll. your ass bounces against him as you fight to catch your breath while he cages you in -- arms on either side of your head. "papa," you hiccup.

he's panting, "yeah, peach," as his nose drags against your temple. "say it again. say it again."

his hips are grinding again -- just nice, tight circles. the sensation is all consuming. you squeal, sob, and choke -- all at once -- as the first convulses of an orgasm ripple through your body. his cock is too deep that it makes you forcibly quiver. you can feel john kissing you as your cunt milks at him. it all blooms violently and he groans through it all, hips stuttering but shaft never leaving your insides as he finally pumps his cum deep inside . . coating your pulpy walls with his release. it's all so thick and warm . . white and runny. you're a mess beneath him . . hiccuping and babbling, completely turned inside out. and yet, john doesn't move . . . he stays, hips still just barely thrusting, eyes low, watching you fight to come down from the heights he forced you to climb.

minutes later, he lets his cock soften slowly inside of you, allowing you to ride the tremors out of your body.

every mewl and hiccup you still give are raw and unguarded. you're so fragile now. he feels it. "hey," he's humming and carefully dragging his hips out to let himself flop out from your stretched, ripened hole. slowly, he shifts you over to then pull you into his arms and lifts himself back towards the pillows where he props the both of you up on. he buries you within him with one arm around your back and the other resting against your hip then rubs slow, steady circles across nearly every inch of you -- your back, thighs, waist. "you're alright, baby," he murmurs as you sniffle hard enough for it to jolt your entire body. "you did good.”

your bonnet has long been tossed askew -- got loosened around the time he placed you in that chokehold. fingers trace along your eyebrows and cheeks to take in each feature. john is in awe, "look at you," his voice is quiet. "you're a dream."

you sniff again, a tiny sob falling past your lips as you tuck your face closer within his chest. your brain is hazy. you've never felt this before. you're simply aware that you just need him.

john hums low in response, eyes knowing, "it's a lot, hm? never been pushed this deep before. you're good. i got you."

for nearly an hour, he stays like that, fingers brushing over the spots that are still tender from the intensity of it all. every tremor, every mewl, every shaky sigh is met with a firm, gentle kiss against your head or jaw as he pulls you in closer. "came hard for me. just like i needed you to. you're perfect." eventually your body gradually relaxes against him and your breath evens out. your eyes'll close when the sun begins to rise over the horizon and john'll hold you through it until you feel it. . . safe. full. loved. and utterly his.

That slight jut of your bottom lip sits rooted and firm. Your pout is never truly obvious, one wouldn’t even notice it if they’re not around you often, but Jack is. He can spot it from a mile away.

“Nothing,” you grumble.

“. . . Talk to me.”

“ ‘m fine, Jack. Gosh.”

Your words earn a sigh . . . then a quiet chuckle. You hear the soft sound of the legs of his glasses folding shut, his phone screen clicking black, and the both of them being set upon his nightstand. Warmth floods the pit of your stomach. Finally, you want to sigh.

“Yeah?” he murmurs. He doesn’t believe you. “Don’t sound fine.”

Jack watches you for a long second — trails his eyes up your smooth legs, thick thighs, tiny cotton shorts, and the hoodie you wear that displays the letters of the university you attend in bright, red letters. You’re so pretty . . . and such a pain in the ass sometimes. “ ‘ll let you try again,” he hums, voice lower now, still coated in patience, but clearly not feeding into your attitude anymore. “Properly this time.”

You simply shift, not saying a word.

Too fucking stubborn for your own good.

Jack tilts his head, studying you for a bit again before whispering, “C’mon . . . Sit up for me.”

You finally glance at him. His face is unreadable. “What?”

Slowly, almost tenderly, he adjusts you. Gets one strong arm beneath your back, twists you towards your stomach, places a hand between your shoulder blades to keep you from resisting and gets you situated directly on your belly. “Yeah,” he quietly says. “Like that . . . Tummy time.”

Instinctively, you shift and try to push yourself back up but his hand adds some pressure. “Mm-mm. Still.”

You make a small, frustrated sound into the mattress as your fingers curl within the sheets. “No fair,” you whine beneath your breath. “This isn’t fair, Jack.” He’s arranging the space around you — pillows shuffling. One’s carefully pushed beneath your hips, two are tucked nice and tight against the outsides of your thighs. It’s all meant to be supportive, for both you and him.

His reply is simple as his fingers start to slide your little shorts down, “I know.”

Your breathing hitches on each inhale as your earlier irritation already begins to blur at the edges. It’s getting harder to not give in, to not fall.

“Didn’t do anythin’,” you weakly whimper.

“Yeah, you did,” he says, voice volume matching yours. “This is what happens when you don’t talk. When you leave me guessin’ on what’s goin’ on with you. It’s not fair, I agree.”

One of his hands smooths up the skin of your back beneath your hoodie while the other’s fingers swipe between the sticky, little folds of your pussy. When you mewl, he sighs, “You’re okay.”

He’s moving, careful and slow — adjusts his residual limb and his leg on those pillows beside your thigh, gets a thumb hooked within the hem of his sweats, tugs it down far enough to allow his half flaccid dick to flop over it and spits into his palm to polish it over his thick shaft. The globes of your ass jiggle when he slaps it on them, three pats for each cheek. You feel the weight of him, solid and firm.

“Don’t move,” he mumbles, voice gruff as he adjusts his cherry capped tip against the hole of your cunt. You practically hold your breath until you feel it — him pushing inside. Your eyes clamp closed, eyebrows furrow, and your toes curl at that initial sting of pain. You’ll always feel it with him. His cock is too fat for its own good.

“. . Daddy, wait—“

He’s adjusting himself, closing his legs around yours to keep your thighs pressed tight together, leaning forward to enclose your face within the frame of his arms. “Always so needy, huh?” He mumbles while dragging the curve of his nose down your cheek. “Get so mean when you want some attention. I don’t understand it. What’s the logic in that?”

“I . . d-don’t know—“

He suddenly drops his hips . . lodging the rest of his dick inside the gushy, warm confines of your pussy within one, smooth thrust. You choke on your next inhale and find yourself squeezing your nails into the skin of his hand in utter shock. You feel the other pushing at the bottom of your chin, “Atta girl, head up.”

The rhythm of his hips falling down onto the plush skin of your ass is constant . . and loud. He wastes no time in forcing your pussy on taking him — pushes himself in past those walls as if he were annoyed with them from keeping you from gaping. “Oh my . . G-God,” you’re hiccuping as your feet twist around one another in some sort of self soothing effort. “P-Please, okay.”

“Daddy’s got that brain feelin’ fuzzy, hm? . . . Easy, easy, I got you.”

You’re a squirmer, but Jack can handle it. Each sink of his cock inside you has your cunt pushing out a little bit of cream. It gets to a point where he can feel the thick warmth of it packing at the base of his cock . . sticking up against the front of his balls that plop onto your twitching clit. He breathes out a heavy breath as he lifts himself onto his palms and spares a glance down at the view of your ass ricocheting off of his hips.

smut warnings. unprotected rough sex, public sex- with audience, biting, breeding, knotting, etc

a/n. I am aware of Johnny’s actual tattoos, in case it needs to be said. my apologies for the floof🫤😑

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･

By now you’d wish to have gotten the hang of climbing up a tree.

Hissing between your teeth as you pick at splinters cutting through your palm, you lean back into a more comfortable position against a large branch just in time to catch a glimpse of the group of Alphas marching out of the village for a hunt. It’d be another week condemned to the stables cleaning horse shit if any of them were to find you this deep in the woods again. 

For the most part you’ve managed to sneak around unnoticed, only catching the attention of a few elders who realized you’d been missing most of the day as you passed by and smiled inconspicuously.

Sometimes you just need to be alone, get away from the pack’s rules and hierarchy, all the duties and mundane tasks implemented. Even if your motive to distance yourself these days has less to do with wanting to be alone and more with needing to get away from a certain somebody that can’t seem to leave you alone.

“You know,” a familiar voice cuts through the trees. Long legs and thick brown hair with golden bits emerging before you can see his face in the light. “The day my father finds you out here this far from the pack, I won’t have any way to protect your ass from the punishment you’ll undoubtedly face.”

“He hasn’t caught me.” You respond, sneering down at your friend arching his neck back with a hand over his eyes to shield the sun and squint up at you. 

“Yet.” He states, snapping his fingers toward you with his free hand. “Get down from there.”

“No.”

“It’s not safe!” He hisses, peering back over his shoulder to ensure the Alphas have made it past the clearing already. “For someone like you to be up there.”

“Someone like me?” You spit, ripping a small tree branch free to hurl at his face. “What the hell is that supposed to mean!”

He sighs, stepping back to dodge your weak attempt to hurt him. “Don’t make me come up there.”

“Go away.”

“No.” Setting his hands on his hips he motions toward the lake with his head. “Let’s go swimming, it’s a nice day and with the Alphas gone it’s pretty empty.”

“Don’t want to.” You sigh, leaning back on the thick part of the tree. 

“Please? I already lied to Jaehyun to get out of hanging out with him today.” Reaching for the satchel laid on his hip, he pulls out a bottle antiseptic. “Bet your hands are really beat from scaling this ancient tree too. Come on, don’t make me beg to hang out with my best friend.”

Jaehyun’s your best friend. You want to snap back at him, huffing and frowning as you pick at a small splinter. 

“The waters perfect right now..” 

“Beg.” You say, peering down with a smile.

He chuckles, head shaking, pressing his hands against the tree. “Yeah? Should I get on my knees and cry? Would that make you come down?”

“Perhaps..”

“I said—“ with gritted teeth he grips onto the trunk of the tree firmly and shakes, adding kicks in-between. “Get down from there!”

“Johnny!” He’s stronger than you’d think from his gangly appearance, at least able to shake your position enough to clutch onto a large branch and curse as more bits of wood cut through your palm. “Stop it!”

“Are you coming down?!”

“Fine! You stupid neanderthal!”

“Nice one.” Catching his breath he moves back enough to grant you space to come down, reaching for your waist once you’re close enough to the ground. “I seriously hate when you sneak off without telling anyone.”

“It’s not a big deal.” You heave out of breath, swatting his hands away. Johnny’s persistent, grabbing a hold of your wrists and spinning you around to face him. 

“‘No.” He mutters, tsking under his breath. “It’s a huge deal. Goddess look at your hands.” A frown takes over his features, kneeling down to empty his bag in search of tweezers. “I only carry these around because of you.”

“I’m fine.” You scoff, ignoring the sting shooting through your hands. “I’ll wash them out in the water.”

“And risk infection?” Standing back up, he grabs onto your wrist again, turning your palm to face him. “Have your mother blame me for allowing you to ruin your delicate soft skin?”

“And who’s to say I need your permission to do anything?” You scowl, attempting to free your hand from his grip that only tightens.

“You know she expects me to look out for you.” Ignoring your petulance, he raises your hand up to carefully dissect a splinter from your middle finger, gentle with each movement to not make this hurt more than it has to. “As future head Alpha I have a reputation to uphold.”

“Yeah yeah yeah.” You snort sarcastically, rolling your eyes to avoid looking at the taller. “Pack Alpha this and that.”

“Right.” Johnny nods, dabbing a cloth drenched with antiseptic after each splinter removal. “This hatred towards Alphas, how exactly will that work and play out after I’ve presented?”

“Won’t matter.” You shrug, foregoing your struggle to allow him to bandage your palm up. 

“And why’s that?”

“My mother’s a Beta, my father’s an Alpha.” You say as if that’s enough of an answer.

Johnny’s gaze raises to yours, biting down on his lip. “Mmm.. right.” 

Squinting back at him, you shove his shoulder, nodding in the direction of the lake. “Let’s go before it gets too late.”

Too late, not referring to sundown but to the real reason you’ve journeyed out to the woods more and more these days. It’s around the corner, ready to rear its ugly head and ruin the one friendship you can always count on. Ruin the genuine care and love that’s formed between the two of you over the years.

“Loser has to clean out the pups dirty diaper can this week!” He shouts, running past you toward the lake.

“Johnny!” You whine, losing your breath to chase after him and grab onto the back of his shirt. “That’s not fair!”

“Hey!” He growls playfully, spinning around to grip around your waist as you tug on his collar and stretch the material out. “Let go!”

“You’re a cheater!” You hiss, aiming for his chest to punch lightly. “Be fair!” 

“Fine.” He laughs, releasing you to drop his satchel and tug his shirt off. “3 laps.” Pointing from one end of the lake to the other he motions between the two of you, knowing you can kick his ass at swimming anyday. “Me and you.”

“Deal.” Shoving down your hoodie and shorts, you barrel into his side and run past him to cannonball onto the water first. “Loser!”

“Hey!” Johnny jumps out of his shorts, pouncing in after you, arms paddling rapidly to race after you. “What’s fair about this!”

“Me winning!” 

You’re out of breath by the time you finish the last lap and bend over belly flat onto the rocks lining the lake. Johnny stops next to you shortly after, resting on his forearms as he mimics your position and swallows down air. 

“Hey, I’m getting better at this.” He says breathlessly, stomach sucking in and out. 

“Only because you’ve had an insane growth spurt..” you mumble, bracing your arms to shove out of the lake and move to the dry patch of grass nearby. 

He takes a few more minutes to bask in the sun, skin glistening with golden rays streaming across his back and shoulders. The hours spent outside during summer really brightened up his complexion, painting his hair with light brassy  streaks. It’s the same every year, as if the sun wants to be around him at all times, melting into his skin and soft brown eyes as he lifts his head and stretches.

“Yeah, dad measured me the other day.” He responds after a while, lifting his long torso to push up and out of the water and plop down by your side. “Grew another two inches..”

“Yeah, I can tell..” you mumble, looking away and rubbing at your arms. 

“So, why don’t we ever talk about it?” He says quietly, picking at shards of grass by his hip. “He thinks I’ll present soon, like.. really soon.”

Instead of opening the door to what a conversation like this can lead to, you shrug and roll your neck back to crack. “Let’s head back before it starts getting dark.”

Johnny lets out a tired sigh, teeth gritted as he stands up and follows after you, grabbing your elbow. “Don’t be like this.”

“Like what?”

He’s silent for a moment, head tilted and analyzing your lack of expression before letting you go. “It could be years until we see eachot—“

“I don’t care, okay? Drop it.”

“How could you not care?!” He asks, eyes wild and bewildered. “Do you not care about me??”

“Of course I care about you!” You shout, tearing your arm away from him. “But this is inevitable, it’s your destiny!”

“And you?” He’s quick to cut you off, stepping closer. “What about you? Are you a part of that destiny? Because right now I really feel like you’re trying to push me away and forget my existence.”

If only it was that easy.

“There’s nothing more to be said Johnny.” 

His gaze lowers seemingly disappointed, softly nodding, biting his bottom lip before a tremble can pass through. “Can I say something?”

No. Please don’t. Don’t make this harder on me than it already is.

“Fine.”

“Take care of yourself, for my sake? And please, stay close to the pack. Try to have some guilt in your conscience that your best friend can’t get a proper night of sleep while worrying about you running into a feral rogue or breaking a leg out there without anyone to find you.”

“Can you tell my friend that I’m not helpless and can very well fend for myself?” You retort, turning and stomping away back to the trail leading toward your pack's land. 

Johnny huffs, shaking his head and gathering the clothes you both discarded, clutching your hoodie for a minute in thought. There’s barely a scent on it, a hint of your mother and father’s lingering, really nothing more than a light memory of the times he’s walked you back to your cabin. If not for the nice weather today he’d chase after you and tackle you down until you cover up, staggering behind instead to stuff your sweater up to his nose.

He shouldn’t, not even allowed to innocently scent you let alone do anything like this. His father would be so disappointed with him, always lecturing him about befriending a girl like you. Very stubborn and unruly, always disobeying the pack Omegas that only want what’s best for you.

But this could be his last chance to savor something from you for some time, because he’d never ask you to scent.. as if you’d ever let him. The smell left behind is barely enough to taste, most of the scent belonging to your Alpha father, smokey and musk. Relaxing against a tree trunk he sighs, clutching the material to his chest solemnly. As stubborn as you may be, he can’t help to think you’re hurting more than you’re willing to show. 

You’d always been resilient toward him, avoiding him even after the first encounter you’d ever had. 

The pack Alphas son that everyone admires and adores, all except you.

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･

“Where’s Johnny?” You ask sheepishly, staggering nearby the head Alphas cabin too chicken to actually knock on the door for an answer. Things hadn’t ended on the best note yesterday, and typically by now your friend would have sought you out, probably dragged you to the canteen for a snack since you slept through breakfast again.

“What do you mean?” Jaehyun snickers, passing by with bags full of manure on his way to the stables. “You didn’t hear?”

“Hear what?” You ask, mildly panicked.

Jaehyun scoffs quietly, glancing around cautiously for head Alphas presence. “He presented.”

“What?!” 

“Shh!” He hisses, grabbing your arm to drag you along with him and out of the pack leaders' close proximity. “How could you not know?! Last night, head Omega had to stay with the elders because Johnny’s rut hit.”

“Rut.. meaning—he’s..”

“Oh come on.” Jaehyun rolls his eyes, flicking your chin.” “You always knew, don’t you remember the first time we met?”

Of course you remember.

When you’re five years old, you get dropped off at the learning center for the first time. It’s not much, depending on the amount of Omegas vs Alphas amongst your pack. No more than 30 pups ranging in elementary age running around screaming.

That’s when you meet Jaehyun of the Jung lineage. He’s the first boy to ever make fun of you. Stuck to share a desk with him based on the proximity of your last names. Jaehyun prods your cheek with the end of his pencil. Asking you why they’re so round, adding a jab by showing off the deep indents on his own. 

He follows you out to the field when the lead Omega instructor dismisses you for break. Skipping along your side boasting about how he’s already begun learning archery. 

“My dads one of the strongest Alphas the pack has!” He gloats. Drawing an arm back to shoot an invisible arrow toward the forest that surrounds your village. “Says I’ll be just like him someday, better even!”

Squinting at him, you nod, lacking the same enthusiasm he has. Opting to search for a toy to occupy your free time, you browse through the crates piled together outside. A yo-yo could be fun, once you untangle the string another pup had evidently left to be discarded.

“Hey!” Jaehyun smacks the toy out of your hold. Pouting like a petulant upset baby. “Are you even listening to me?”

“Why did you do that?” A taller boy interrupts the two of you. Bending down to grab the yo-yo that’s rolled away, hitting the toe of his sneaker. He lifts it up with a bit of inspection, beginning to unravel the string. 

“..oh..Johnny..” Jaehyun stammers. His once bratty tone falling into a hushed one lacking confidence. “I was just messing around.”

Johnny, as Jaehyun calls him, concentrates on straightening out the toys string. Winding it up with ease and gesturing for you to take it once he’s finished.

“Should be all good to use now.” He smiles brightly. Having to lean his neck down as he looks over your lost expression. With the corners of his lips dropping to a pronounced frown, he blares Jaehyun with a cold stare. “Don’t do that again okay? No future strong Alpha of our pack would behave in such a manner.”

Flitting you with a rushed look, he turns away. Meeting up with a few other pups who seemed closer to his age. Jaehyun grumbles at your side, crossing his arms over his chest. His small foot lifting to a stomp for added dramatics.

“Great, now he’s going to snitch on me to the Head Alpha. I wasn’t even doing anything bad!” Jaehyun cries out. Sucking on his bottom lip in thought. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

Nodding quietly, you loop the yo-yo’s thread around your index finger. Having to tighten it from where Johnny had left it. 

Jaehyun continues to follow you around, quite talkative for a pup. Too talkative in comparison to you. Directing you to walk in any direction that wouldn’t bring you any closer to the boy that had clearly left him shook up. 

“Do you know him?” You wonder. Glancing to where Johnny spikes a volleyball high above a net setup. The opposition weakened by a powerful collision meeting his chest. 

“Pft, of course!” Jaehyun gawks, fitting you with widened eyes. “That’s Head Alpha’s firstborn son! You can’t be serious right? He’s most likely to lead our pack some day.”

The yo-yo zips up with speed, caught in your grip tightly, mewling over Jaehyun’s explanation. Cheers to your left pull you to catch sight of the pup who had helped you. Hoisted up off his feet by a group of others who cheered from a victorious outcome of whatever game they had been playing.

Johnny was destined to be an Alpha. 

It shouldn’t come as a surprise to hear the news that your best friend finally presented. If anything, you’re disappointed. You’d been too mean yesterday.. really for the last few weeks as if you could sense it coming. 

“Since he’s presented, I’m sure we’ll be going next.” Jaehyun interrupts your inner turmoil, rubbing his chin. “Can feel my Alpha ready to break free any minute now.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Well, typically it’s somewhat of a domino effect. One Alpha presents and suddenly a slew of Omegas appear.. which triggers our Alphas.” He explains as if you’re clueless.

“Not that. I mean, I’m not going anywhere. Except to help in the kitchens along with the rest of the Betas.” You say surely, waving an arm out. “Maybe I’ll end up in the farms, wherever I get assigned to.”

Jaehyun laughs amused, eyebrows raised high. “Sweetie, you’re about as Omega as they come.”

Instead of letting the same comment you’ve heard most of your life get to you, you shrug it off and glance back toward the head Alphas cabin. “Will I get to see him again?”

Jaehyun hums. “Probably in a few weeks, you know.. when they start to separate us.”

Knowing you’d left things in a somewhat awkward place with your friend really dragged your heart through the mud, making your way back to the lake you’d been at just the day before full of regret that you’d been cutting him off and spending less time together. Perhaps deep down inside you knew the feelings you continued to stomp down into nothing consisted of a culmination of fear and anger. Anger because you don’t want to lose him, fear of what the future holds in store for you once you have inevitably presented. Fear that you will end up stuck with the Omegas until adulthood. Anger that you can’t seek Johnny to comfort your worries anymore.

Jaehyun was right, as everyone has always been about you. The domino effect took its toll on the pack, triggering heats and ruts alike until yours hit in the middle of the night and consumed you with the worst pain you’ve ever felt. 

A pain of yearning and insatiable hunger, hunger that had one name written at the back of your tongue, attempting to swallow it down before your Omega could break free and shout his name out. Tears burned down your face as you fisted at your bedding and grinded your hips down, not even the strongest elixir of ancient herbs could quell your lust for the Alpha.

Johnny Johnny Johnny..

His name swirled through your mind, each memory and touch you ever shared, his hold on your waist and shoulders, the difference in size between you just this last year.

“Alpha..”

With 20 pack members presenting the council decided it’s time to move you onto your next step. 

You pleaded and cried in your mother’s arms begging for her to do something to stop this, to let you stay with her somehow, someway. Realistically no amount of tears could stop the assimilation you all must face. 

“It will be over before you know it my love.” She said sweetly, braiding your hair the night before you’re to move to the Omega quarters. 

Won’t be over soon enough, you think, keeping your thoughts to yourself the more your eyes puff up. Sleep would be hard to come by tonight, knowing tomorrow changes everything. The days of being a young careless pup with lack of responsibility change now, cursed by your damn Omegan genetic chemistry. Because whether you accepted it or not, the chances of a Beta mating anything other than a Beta rarely ever led to the same sub-gender offspring. Even your mother always hinted and skirted around the idea of you presenting as an Omega, never an Alpha with your delicate soft nature, no matter how hard headed you may be.

“At least you will get to see your friends once more tomorrow.” She said as she tucked you in and kisses your forehead. “I’m sure they’re eager to congratulate you on presenting.”

Friends.

The only friend she’s ever even seen you with being the pack Alphas son. She knew very well how odd your relationship is, being that you don’t even come from one of the stronger lineages. Perhaps her prayers to the moon goddess to grant her daughter a prosperous future had been answered. Time would tell..

Sunlight entered your room right as your eyes were ready to fall shut after failed attempts of counting sheep to shut your mind off. Nothing could stop your incessant fear from escalating knowing what a new day would bring.

“We don’t want to be late, princess. It’s time.” Your father chirped happily from your bedroom door, gathering the bag you’d be taking with you later today.

No, of course you wouldn’t want to be late to the induction ceremony. Even with a stomach full of nerves as you made your way to the divided trails leading to sectioned off lands for Alphas and Omegas you tried to calm yourself, take deep breaths, fiddle with your hands until you had no choice but to ball them up in tight fists.

“My baby’s grown so much.” Your mother cuts the unbearable loud silence pounding in your head, smoothing loose tendrils away from your face. “You’ll surely make us proud in there, receive many merits and accolades from the elder Omegas.”

“I’ll do my best.” You say solemnly, leaning your cheek into her palm one last time. “I’ll miss you both so much.”

“Soon soon, angel. Everything will go by so fast, you’ll be back in no time.”

The ceremony to send you off lasted no longer than a few minutes after all goodbyes were said, staggering behind before making your way to catch up with the rest of the newly presented Omegas. You slowly turn to look over your shoulder, breath lodged in your throat when you find his gaze already on you. 

“Johnny?” You mouth hopefully. He stands straight, stepping to the side of his group until you’re close enough to take in how much more he’s filled out in mere days. The once gangly long limbs now protrude with muscle, shoulders grown in width, and jawline sharpened with definition as baby fat disappears.  

“Johnny.” You whisper, reaching a hand out for your best friend, now Alpha, to take a hold of. He visibly swallows, a tormented expression streaking across his face as he looks you over.

“I can’t.” He whispers back, blinking furiously. Tugging the straps of his bag on his shoulders tighter. “I can’t..”

He nods swiftly, turning his face away from you with a stiff twist of his neck to keep himself staring ahead. Pain scorches up your gut, burning the pathway leading to your heart as your hand falls limp by your hip and you sniffle back the onslaught of tears already rushing to the backs of your eyes. 

“I’m sorry.” He barely whispers before turning down the opposite path, leaving you with the last memory you’d hold onto for the next 5 years to come.

One last look caught yours before disappearing behind the fence meant to keep new Alpha and Omega apart.

Time. Only more time can make any difference now.

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･

“I can’t wait until we integrate with the rest of the pack.”

“I can.” You say quietly, keeping your head low to not draw the attention of the lead Omegas walking around observing how well you’ve all begun to take on your roles. “I don’t dream of being mated.”

“Ah, well.” Minnie, the bubbly Omega you’ve come to know in your last year by no choice of your own smiles softly, tilting her head dreamily. “I can’t wait to be with my first pup, and finally know my mate. It’s all I can think about.”

Of course it is, you want to say, lowly humming and continuing to brush out the furs dropped off today. They carried all types of scents from the elders, council members, even faint traces of betas. Alpha furs are only to remain within the village grounds, nowhere near unmated Omegas. 

“You really have no desire to mate?” Minnie continues to pester you, smile turning mischievous. “I bet I can change your mind.”

She seems more than up to no good judging by the way her lips tweak to one side before bouncing up onto the balls of her feet, pointing this and that way while hurriedly explaining something to one of the elder Omegas.

“Fine fine Minnie, take that one with you and be back on time to help in the kitchen.” She motions your way, cutting off the younger Omega before she talks her ear off.

She skips on her way back to you, bundling up a few of the furs you’ve been cleaning. “Told her we need to deep clean these to get the smell out.” 

“They don’t sme—“

“Shh!” She rushes, grabbing a hold of your arm to hoist you up and drag you away from the group of Omegas working hard to brush out knots and stains. “You have to be quiet about this okay? I’ll get into so much trouble if the word about this gets back to the council.”

“What are you going on about?!” You grit, failing to shake her arms off. Leaving you with no choice but to follow along as she leads you past the riverbank. 

“I’m telling you, there’s something special a few of the Omegas showed me a while ago.” She says excitedly, teeth on full display as she peers over her shoulder to ensure no one’s nearby. “Over here, these fences behind the leaders cabin.”

“We’re not supposed to go this far..” you say hesitantly, digging your heels into the dirt path to slow her down.

“It’s not prohibited.. but they haven’t renovated these parts in decades..” she explains, using extra strength to make you turn down the short hill that covers most of the fence. “They really should too.”

“Why? Doesn’t it just lead to the village?”

“Well, no..” he trails off, biting down on her lip deviously. “You have to promise not to say anything, alright?”

Sighing, you shrug and wrap around her pinky, unsure of what could possibly be so secretive about this area. She nods, pressing a finger to her lips as you step up to the area covered by old tree branches. “Don’t be loud.”

Releasing your arm, she reaches to move a few branches aside and motions for you to come closer. There behind the mess of greenery are two holes on the old tall wooden fence. You stop for a moment to glance back at her, nodding with her lips pursed for you to look through.

Nothing could have prepared you for what actually resides on the other side of the fence. More water that you didn’t know existed, the rest of the river that’s been cut off by this man-made fence constructed decades ago when the pack struggled to keep Alphas and Omegas consistently equal in numbers. The council decided it best to separate freshly presented pups into individual camps until they experienced their first heat or rut. Segregating the two sub-genders to manage future matings with annual runs. Their plan had been successful after balancing the scale, allowing for their pack to grow healthy and plentiful.

It’s been years since you’ve last seen an Alpha.. until now.

“Is..” you stutter, blinking rapidly. “Is that..”

“The Alphas.” She whispers near your ear, lightly tapping a fingertip against the fence. “They swim and clean off at this stream after their hunts, seems to be only the ones that are soon on their way out of the camp..”

Alphas, playfully shooting water at each other, laughing and rough housing after a morning hunt. They have baskets full of fish lined up near their weapons on the path, a few of them deeper in the water scrubbing their arms and chest clean with cloths. 

“Our future mates could be here right now.” She beams, pushing her cheek against yours to steal a look. “Oh Goddess, it’s him..” 

“Who?”

“Head Alphas son..” she murmurs off, eyes going lazy as she rests against your head for you to both get a look

Head Alphas son? But that would be..

How could you have not immediately noticed him, trudging out from the shallow end of the stream glistening under the daylight sun, shaking off the water cascading from his broad frame the closer he reaches toward the end.

It’s him, it has to be him. 10 inches taller than you remember, hair longer and framed around his much sharper and pronounced bone structure. The baby fat on his cheeks long gone, body built up from years of hunting. The pressure of having to be the strongest and most reputable Alpha evident in his intimidating stance alone.

“Johnny.” The name passes from your lips without realizing, widening Minnie’s eyes as she turns to look at you.

“You know him?”

Know him? He was the last member of your pack that you had contact with before joining the rest of the newly presented Omegas. Even sharing goodbyes with your own family before him. You knew he’d be an Alpha eventually, but you’d never considered how painful it would be to lose your best friend to the otherside. 

The reality always loomed though. The pack Alphas first born son could never present as a Beta, Goddess forbid as an Omega. 

“No.” You reply, clearing your throat and tearing your gaze away. “We shouldn’t be here, it’s against pack law to be in contact with Alphas while unmated.”

“We aren’t contacting them, not really..” she smirks coyly, trapping your arm once more. “Just a little longer? They’ll be on their way eat soon.”

You shouldn’t, should stand your ground and put your foot down against this condemnable behavior.

But one more look can’t hurt much.

One more look just to be certain that it’s him, that it’s really your Johnny.

He’s changed so so much, nearly unrecognizable if you weren’t sure of his residency on the other side of this fence. 

“He’s incredibly handsome, don’t you think?” Minnie disrupts the one on one conversation happening with yourself, looping an arm around your waist to bring you both closer to the holes. “Can you believe we’ll be in the same mating hunt as our next head Alpha?”

“What??” You practically shriek, covering your mouth and pulling away. 

She looks at you half amused, in awe of your clueless nature. “It’s been five years silly, the elders have been discussing lowering our time inside these lands to ensure a strong Winter. The moon goddess predicts we will need many healthy pups due to the severity of climate change that’s recently taken place.”

“How do you know all of this?!”

She sighs, wagging a finger in your face. “You never pay attention during the morning lecture. They say we could be out of here as soon as the next red moon! That’s only a few weeks from now.”

A few WEEKS?! 

“Judging by the look of these Alphas..” she hums flirtatiously, turning back to peep through the fence and suck a long breath in. “They’re certainly ready to hunt, and I’m ready to be chased.”

“The mating hunt, is it guaranteed that all who participate will be mated?” You ask full of worry, dragging fingers through your hair. 

“Of course, that’s the point of all this!” She says, clicking her tongue. “If I didn’t know any better I’d swear you were born yesterday.”

Stealing one more look, she sighs and bites her lip excitedly. “I’m so ready to be out of here.” Turning back to you she grabs your arm. “Let's get back before the elders catch on to us missing. Besides, we’ll be with our Alphas in no time.”

In no time. Too soon. 

And as if to mock your worry the days tick by faster and faster, now very alert during your usual extra nap time in the morning. You listen to every word, biting at your nails by the third week as the elders rejoice that the forecast had been correct and the blood red moon will indeed rise in the next few days. 

“Soon you will birth strong and powerful members to contribute to the pack.” They preached and flounced about full of excite. “Tomorrow we will introduce you back to the pack to prepare for the hunt. Not a hair or patch of dry skin shall appear on you! You must impress your potential Alpha suitors to desire and want to chase you.”

More thrilled than you could ever be about this, they began to distribute scent blockers around the hall. Instructing you all begin using them tonight to ensure no Alpha can trail you off scent. It has to be instinct and intuition to find your true mate.

Once you have presented, every pack Omega is expected to participate in the annual mating ceremony. Ensuring the packs healthy growth to avoid a desolate village.

Your biggest dread of presenting as an Omega subsided as you met your predator's gaze. Stalking around you with snapping teeth and no escape. 

There was no way to predict the Alpha determined to mate you would end up being your best friend.

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･

“I can’t do this.” You whisper, sneaking a watery look at your mother. The reunion with your parents had been too fast, not enough time to plead your case and beg for them to find you another option. She smiles stiffly at you, securing the braids she put your hair in with ribbons.

“Sweety..” she says between clenched teeth, blinking furiously. “Do not embarrass us. It’s an honor that you’ve been summoned to participate in the mating hunt.”

An honor? Giving up your freedom and shred of independence you can barely cling onto for an Alpha? An Alpha that will breed and claim you like nothing more than a whore?

“What’s honorable about this, mother?”

She sighs, painting your cheeks with thin stripes of oil to illuminate your skin and make you more desirable for your possible mate. “I only wish I’d been given the chance you have to strengthen the pack. Omegas are the backbone of our livelihood, without you we’d go extinct faster than animals.”

Popping her mouth for you to mimic she applies a smudge of red tint to your lips, standing proudly after to take in your full appearance. “Without a scent to trail, the Alphas will really have to focus on using their other senses.. and you look ethereal. Always knew you’d grow up to be one of the prettiest in our pack, even if I worried about all those scars you’d come home with all the time.”

“What if I refuse?” You ask wearily, glancing around at the other Omegas being prepped for the hunt.

“You’ll be exiled.” Your mom says sternly, tight lipped as she grips your shoulders to look at her. “Think about your father and I, please. We barely got you back.”

A mixture of guilt and rancid vomit combines in your stomach the longer you stand around and wait for the Alphas to show up. The elders have been greeting each other, smugly smiling as if they’ve accomplished something by forcing young Omegas to hand over their lives and become breeding machines. They gather around and announce the next generation of Alphas to lead the pack. You can’t see their entrance from where you stay hidden with the rest of the Omegas participating, not allowed to see any of your potential mates. Only able to swallow down the throw up that rises up your throat as cheers and roars pound through the earth beneath your feet. Alphas praised for merely existing, for being the breadwinners of the pack that ensure longevity and protection. 

Omegas are the real backbone, as your mother said, whether she meant it or simply wanted to shut you up and finish dolling you for essentially a stranger to ship off with. 

“This is so thrilling.” Minnie pops up next to you, her lips a deep cherry, cheeks stung with the residue to make her skin glow. She looks radiant, lovely as ever, so ready to show off a bite on her beautiful long neck. “I want to be caught already.”

Nothing could compel you to agree, silently nodding to resist the incessant urge to gag. Judging by the giggles and squeals surrounding you, no one seems to share your sentiment. Why would they after years of being brainwashed to want this.

She takes your hand, squeezing and bouncing on the balls of her feet. “May the moon goddess bring you the best Alpha.”

“You too, Min..”

A whistle blows signaling you to line up and ready yourselves to run, everyone scrambles around excitedly, leaving you at the forefront as the elders explain the ‘rules’ again.

“You are not to ever remove your scent blockers, you are to hide once the Alphas begin their hunt. You are forbidden to leave the pack lands, and if you are not claimed you shall immediately report back to the Omega sector until the next red moon. Claimed Omegas are to come back with their Alpha mated. Only once paired off may you re-enter the pack.”

It’s due or die, whether or not you avoid an Alphas claim you’ll never be free from this restrictive life..

The second the horn sets off you run, feet pounding to the earth without a second thought. Heavy breathing and laughter fades away behind you, distancing yourself further and further away from where most of the Omegas will choose to hide, you imagine. The same trees you used to wander through catch your attention out ahead, furiously quickening your pace at the sound of another horn signaling that the Alphas are on the move.

The same forest you spent days hiding inside of is just right outside of your lands, against the rules, but you need to wait it out long enough. Once enough time has passed and the Alphas make their claims you can move back to your packs territory. No one has to know.

Not even the splinters clawing through the skin of your palms can slow you down, hoisting yourself up the largest tree you can find until you manage to get up high and let out a sigh of relief. The pounding in your heart refuses to settle even so, hissing as you wipe your hands off on your tunic and try to adjust your weight onto a thick branch. Even at this proximity you can hear howls and cries, sounds of pleasure ripping through the tears as Omegas go down, claimed and gnawed at by rabid Alphas. 

Time goes by slowly as you sit still and listen, sucking at your wounded hands to ease the sting left behind. It’s nothing compared to the mix of pain swarming between moans. Deep guttural Alpha wails break through the dusk, shifting and breaking bones as they take their conquests and solidify their claim with a knot.

Only a few more hours until it dies down, you hope.. peering up at the clouds that dance around the red moon. Orange light sprays across the ground, illuminating clear paths for predator eyes to seek their prey. They’d never be able to find you up here, unless..

A loud huff snaps your neck toward the entrance of the forest, cracking tree branches and kicking rocks as the sound grows near.

Large, terrifyingly large, medium brown soft with light hints of gold, and eyes you’d recognize even if you suffered from amnesia. Those sharp sleek eyes that you’d never be able to forget no matter how much you try. Why would he come out here? Why did he have to come out here.

There’s only one reason. Snarling and puffing large breaths of air as he slowly paws through and approaches the largest tree, listening attentively for any movement. Sitting back on his hind legs, his gaze lands on you without sparing a second, squinting past the leaves you’ve shrouded yourself with. He barks, baring his teeth as trickles of saliva drip down his jowls.

Get down from there.

“Go away!” You hiss, grabbing onto a tree branch firmly as he nears and clambers up, scratching his claws along the trunk.

It’s been years and you still insist on giving me the biggest headache.

“I said go away Johnny!” 

Get down. Immediately. Don’t make me climb up there.

“I’m not coming down! Now get away before another Alpha follows your trail and figures out that I’m hiding out here.” You grunt, fearfully looking out as another large wolf approaches.

You need to come down. Right now.

“You’re leading him right to me.” You whine, moving up another branch to hide yourself from the Alpha passing between the trees.

Johnny’s teeth snap, biting at the air as an Alpha with dark fur growls at him, leaping up on his hind legs he stands tall above him, shouting at the new presence to get lost.

This one's mine.

The dark furred Alpha hesitates for a bit, egging the lighter to get his nose in his face, snout digging into the others until he whimpers and backs away, slowly making his exit from the woods.

An enormous sense of relief lightens the tension weighing down your shoulders, leaning back on the tree until a sudden huge ruckus shoots you to sit up urgently. 

The Alpha down below backs up and rams into the trunk repeatedly, growling and smashing his dome forward until you’re shouting.

“Johnny! Stop! Stop!” 

GET DOWN. RIGHT NOW!

His Alpha sounds vicious, ripping through your mind, causing your Omega to cower and frightfully shiver. Biting down on your lip to contain a whimper, you nod and gingerly set your foot down to make your way down the tree. 

“Please, don’t tell head Alpha about this.. he’ll have me condemned..” you plead, keeping your gaze to the floor to not have to look your old friend in the eye. Shame, embarrassment and fear runs rampant throughout your system, lighting goosebumps up your flesh. 

No one is touching my mate.

“What?!” You nearly lunge back, falling down onto your ass as you crawl away without taking your eyes off of him. “Johnny! It’s me! You’re mistaken—“

Quiet. Omega. 

Slowly trudging closer to you, he stops to sit. Stance big and strong towering above you.

Present.

“Johnny, I can’t do tha—“ 

The growl he lets out cracks a whimper from your throat, rustling the leaves throughout each surrounding tree, echoing loud enough for even birds to flock away out of fear.

“You don’t want this, not with me, remember me?” It seems futile to attempt conversation with an Alpha in wolf form, feeling defenseless and defeated as your back knocks against a rock and the Alpha leaves you with nowhere to run. 

Present for your Alpha. I won’t ask again.

“I-I can’t, don’t ask that of me.” Bile rises up your chest, digging your fingers through clumps of dirt as the large wolf nuzzles your face and takes a deep inhale. “This is a mistake, has to be a mistake..”

Lights blind your vision, collapsing on the ground when his scent slams into you. A husk leather oud infiltrates your senses, strong and rich, immediately swirling between each crevice until your chest caves. The Alphas scent is the strongest you’ve ever felt, dominant, enrapturing, near drug-inducing. The scent of a powerful Alpha, more powerful than you’ve ever experienced. Too much for your secluded body and mind to handle atop of the raging fear beating from your chest.

The Alpha nudges your limp figure a few times, softly huffing and licking up your cheek. There’s no point in waiting it out, already gone for hours since the hunt began, he shifts back and hoists your lifeless body onto his arms, carrying you out of the woods with ease. The walk back to your lands can take about another hour, knowing his father will undoubtedly be waiting for his return with a proud smile as his son triumphantly strides back through with his future head Omega intact.

Exactly as he imagined it, his father stands tall and full of pride, the smile on his lips slowly sinking as he sees no sign of a mating mark. Confusion flows between the two Alphas as he comes to a stop and adjusts your limp weight in his arms. 

“What is this son? Have you not mated?” He asks sternly, leaning in closer to inspect your naked throat.

“The Omega, she fainted before I could consummate..”

“Ah, I see. Drop her off at the infirmary and continue on your way back out. Many Alphas have already returned with their claimed mates. You need to be swift and hurry now.”

“This is my mate, father.” Johnny states loud and clear, cradling you closer to his chest. “She is the one my wolf has chosen.”

Clarity evades the head alphas features, scowling as he steps forward to whisper. “You dare to bring disgrace upon my name with this unmated weak Omega? What have I taught you?”

“No father, I do not wish to bring shame upon our lineage.”

The head Alpha snaps his fingers, ushering his main henchmen to cover up their surroundings. “Get the Omega back to your cabin. Do not bring her back without your markings.” He orders, rushing two of the elders to cut around the village to his son’s cabin. “I will not have you humiliate my name with your choice.”

Johnny nods without protest, following along with the elders that obscure your bodies behind veiled cloaks. At least in his cabin he can help you get proper rest and keep an eye on you. 

“Get her inside.” One of the elders says in a hushed voice, covering the entrance to his cabin. “Listen to me my boy, if that Omega exits your sights without a mark, I don’t want to jump to conclusions of what your father may pull, but it won’t be pleasant.”

He nods assuredly, thanking the older Alpha for helping him before leading you to his furs to lay upon. At least this way you can become accustomed to his scent, enough to keep you stable even if it overwhelms you. He should have anticipated that you’d be difficult to deal with even now after all of this time apart. You’ve grown a lot, as has he, but clearly your disdain towards Alphas hasn’t changed much.

He wonders for a moment if he should have just walked away when Jaehyun showed up with intent to mate you. The thought alone makes his Alpha scream at the top of its lungs, clenching his fist and shaking his head to calm the rage building inside of him.

Anyone else mating you has never been an option, because Johnny always knew it had to be him. He always knew that it had to be you. 

‘That sweaters a bit tight for you, don’t you think?’ His friend jeered, poking at the faded cotton material stretched over his much larger body.

Johnny ignored him, waving Jaehyun off before heading to the river to wash off, making a stop by the bathrooms nearby first. He’s kept your oversized sweater stuffed at the very bottom of his bag as he marched into the newly presented Alpha sector of your packs lands, heart beating from his chest as he stole one last look back and found your gaze peering over your shoulder practically begging to be saved.

He’d dreamt about it for years, what your scent would smell of, how you’d grow to be the most beautiful Omega, strong and regal by his side. Perfect to lead a pack by him in time. 

In time you will see, even if you don’t have much left to spare.

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･

Air thick as molasses glides down your tongue, struggling to swallow as you sit up and break out into a fit of coughs. Everything’s too warm, incinerating you from inside out with each breath you take in. Grasping around yourself you find a wall behind you, choking on your next breath right as the Alpha enters and rushes over to you.

“Here, drink this.” He sits down fast, raising a cup of cooled tea to your lips, tipping it for you to drink from. The sensation of calming herbs flows through your chest, filling your senses from nose to taste, opening up your air passages to breath with ease. “Drink all of it.”

“What is that??” You cough, wiping at your lips and pushing the mug away.

“You fainted, healer Ryu said it can happen when Omegas aren’t accustomed to the scent of Alpha..” tilting his head to the side, he taps at a scent blocker stuck to his neck. “This should help, you’re in my cabin thought, my scent is pretty much everywhere..”

“What am I doing here?” You try to say clearly, choking on the spit lining your throat that's thickened up. “W-why did you bring me here?”

Johnny’s gaze darkens, dragging down your even toned neck, the expanse of your smooth delicate shoulders and your bare arms. “Because.” He stiffens, glaring at your throat. “I want you to be awake when I mate you.”

“Mate me?!?” Shooting up straight, you clutch the furs on top of your body tightly, half questioning if he undressed you to get you under here in the first place..

Sitting up, he nods and reaches to move your hair back causing you to flinch as his knuckles drag down your cheek. “Do you not remember me?”

He seems hesitant to ask, lips tugged down at the sides, grazing past your scent gland still masked by blockers. 

“Of course I remember you!” Glowering, you grab his wrist and dig your fingernails in. “Now answer me! What am I doing here?!”

The sensation of your stubby nails clawing at his flesh has no effect, shrugging you away as he comes to stand and paces in front of the bed you sit on. “Did you hit your pretty little head falling down from one of those trees while trying to hide?” He asks in a snarky manner, placing hands on his hips to widen his size. “How many times are you expecting me to repeat myself?”

“You know I never fall.”

Johnny rights himself, standing tall above you. “And I know where you’d go to hide from a gang of Alphas seeking their prey.”

“You cheated.” 

“I found you fairly, just in time too. Jaehyun was trailing my ass knowing I’d be looking for you. You’re lucky he knows better than to go up against me.”

Jaehyun. The other Alpha that Johnny had scared away.

“It’s not fair.. you left our territory—“

“And you should be grateful that I did.” He lunges toward you, slamming his fists down on the bed. “If anyone else had found you breaking the rules like that I’d never be able to save your ass.”

“I don’t need to be saved, especially not thanks to an Alpha.” You spit, cowering back against a wall.

“Watch your tongue little one. We aren’t pups anymore.”

Hard knocks shake through the cabin, pursuing your lips together to stop an insult from dicing its way through the Alphas flesh. Moving away, he peers back over his shoulder, motioning your way. “Don’t move, Omega.”

He disappears behind the door shutting, springing to your feet to scamper your way over when you hear deep voices murmur through.

“Have you done it?” You can recognize head Alphas domineering tone, judging from the way Johnny replies alone. He sounds immature, young and still innocent but still respectful.

“Not yet father.” He’s quiet, probably keeping his head down, too much shame to look his dad in the eye.

“I never expected this from you son.” Head Alpha sounds disappointed, drawing out a long sigh. “All of this over some Omega.”

“She’s more than that.”

“I do not care.” Shutting down his son quickly, head Alpha takes heavy steps, most likely pushing his chest out to instill intimidation. 

“If you do not mate her by the end of today, I have no choice son. I will not allow your obsession with this inadequate Omega to tarnish the reputation I have helped you build. No one wants to follow orders from an Alpha that cannot even control his Omega. You will do what I see fit or I shall summon the council to order a public mating.” Head Alpha spits each word out like shards of glass, gashing through even your flesh from where you listen through the door. The thought of Johnny on the other side trying to keep up a strong facade pings through your chest, willing it away with your arms tightening around yourself.

He must be stoic, emotionless to his father’s rage, because he doesn’t reply, nothing but the sound of footsteps follow for the next few minutes. 

Stepping back inside abruptly, he catches you off guard, leaping away from the door and rushing to hide your tear-filled eyes. “I had a feeling you wouldn’t stay in place.”

“You know me.” You mutter sarcastically, lips tugging down at the sides. “Public mating?”

Johnny sighs, starting to pace and run his hands through his long locks. “I assume you heard everything.”

“What was head Alpha talking about? Is he going to have me exiled?”

He scoffs, glaring at you from the corner of his eye. “As if I’d ever allow that.”

“You’d have to, you can’t go against your father.”

“I can’t?” Lifting a defined eyebrow at you, he steps forward to get in your face, neck craning lower. “What do you not understand? You are my mate. I would go against anyone for you, even my own damn blood.”

“I don’t understand, okay?!” You shout, frustrated, taking a step back nervously. 

“I’ve always known.” Johnny cuts you off, following you with long strides until your back meets a wall. “You have too.”

“No.. Johnny..” 

“Alpha.”

“No!” Lifting your hands, you press flat against his chest to put distance between your bodies. Useless as he doesn’t so much as budge, reaching for your waist as he bends in closer until his lips hover an inch away from yours.

“This stubborn act was endearing when we were kids, you know.” He laments, laughing under his breath. “It was cute and I may do whatever it takes to make you mine, but you will respect me as your mate.”

His tone lowers, near a rumble that has your Omega howling in pain, every signal warning for you to behave. “You’re not my mate.”

He snaps fast, growling deep in his chest, palms slamming down on the wall behind your head. “Do not disobey me.”

The Alphas voice cuts deep, rolling tremors down your limbs until your knees give and buckle, dropping your face between his chest as a pathetic whimper springs from your lips. You crumble at the fury, the Omega inside of you curling up into a ball in shame. How could you anger our mate enough to make him use his Alpha voice? It’s your fault, unleashing an onslaught of pain throughout your body the more you cower against him.

An exhausted sigh blows across the side of your face, standing up straight with arms wrapped around your waist he holds you close, nose dropping to your hair to take in a long inhale. “I shouldn’t have. I don’t know what overcame me just now..”

“I hate you.” You cry between chattering teeth, weakly hitting his chest. “How could you do that to me?”

“No you don’t.” Johnny’s eyes fall shut, dragging his nose against your crown. “I need you to listen to me. I’m sorry. I’m frustrated and stressed over what my father said..”

Sniffling, you ease against him, looping an arm around his waist to regain your balance, and maybe comfort the emotionally wounded Omega whimpering inside of you to fix this. “Public mating?”

“Yes..” he hesitates for a minute, rubbing a soothing large hand up and down your back before pulling away to cup your face.”If the council agrees, I will be summoned to claim you before the pack Alphas..”

“What??”

Pursing his lips, he looks away, forehead wrinkling. “As their next head Alpha, I cannot risk dishonoring tradition..”

“What’s traditional about this?!” You speak up, pushing away again only to be kept in place by strong built arms. 

“It’s not up to me anymore.”

“Then let me leave!” Hissing, you strike a balled up fist against his chest, lip trembling to contain your tears. “Johnny, please!”

“I can’t.” He says firmly, taking a hold of your shoulders to keep you still against the wall. “Tomorrow I will mate you, and if you try to run, I will never stop chasing after you.”

Silence falls between the two of you as he keeps you stuck in place with a look full of hunger. Eyes dancing between desire and passion. It’s enough to bite your tongue and hold back the whiplash of words your mind fights against your heart to shout at him. 

“There’s no other way?” You ask brokenly, throat exhausted as if your Omega used your vocal chords to scream her murderous tears. 

Shaking his head slowly, he leans in and plants a gentle kiss on your forehead. “There is no other way.”

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･

There is no other way.

Because this is the only way to prove to the pack that you belong to Johnny. That the Alpha has truly thoroughly fucked and claimed you, that no one will ever question his position to lead this pack.

The council wastes no time on discourse, immediately proclaiming that a mating ritual shall take place today, and that the Omega set to be the next head by pack Alphas side will have a mark on her neck by the end of this day.

“Here I thought the hunt would be the highest honor, you’re lucky the council has been lenient enough to allow this.” Your mother’s fixing up your face once again, unable to remove the giant dumb smile from her face as she moves to brush your hair. “Ah, the moon goddess truly heard my wishes. Head Alphas son of all Alphas! What a blessing.”

Every single member of the pack seemed to question how and why you were chosen. Walking through the village to your parents cabin drew more attention to you than you’d ever experienced. Whispers floated through the air, backing the rumors that you couldn’t even handle the next head Alpha, that you’d passed out before he’d even had the chance to mate you.

‘Doesn’t make any sense why he’d even bother with her after that.’

‘Heard one of the Alphas over breakfast mention that they were close as pups. Head Alphas son probably imprinted on her years ago, none of us ever stood a chance against that type of bond.’

‘Seems unfair if you ask me, she’s not even grateful.’

They spoke so foul of you without knowing anything about you. To even dare question the innocent relationship you once had with Johnny. The friendship that you cherished and would sell your soul to have back. Everything’s different now, he’s different.

“I’m already dreaming of the pups you’ll have.” Your mother sighs happily, fluffing your hair to frame your face. “Johnny’s so handsome and strong, with his genes you will birth only strong pups.”

Pups.

Birth.

With Johnny.

Fear heightens in your stomach similar to a ticking time bomb, sensing your imminent doom as the elders come to escort you to the Alphas sector where the ritual will take place. They wear pleased smiles, cheerful as they drag you along and bring you to what can only come straight out of nightmares.

Alphas stagger around, eyeing you curiously as you’re brought to stand in the middle where a large lifted platform covered with cushions and furs has been set up. It’s worse than the hunt, multiple predatory eyes burn into your skin, gathering closer to get a good look at the flimsy garment doing a poor job of hiding your ample curves. Growls and grunts fly around you, trapping you with nowhere to go as they circle around and barricade you, shortening your breath the more imprisoned you begin to feel.

“J-Johnny?” You ask hesitantly, gaze stuck to your feet, too anxious at the thought of meeting eyes with any of the unknown Alphas around.

“I’m here.” A soft tone ripples up your spine, standing straight and pulling your shoulders back as he takes a hold of your elbow and turns you to face him. “Look at me.”

Slowly lifting your head up you see him, warm eyes and a soft smile intended to comfort you. He stands before you, moving in closer to wrap around your waist. “You’re nervous.”

Sniffling, you nod, embarrassed that every Alpha in the pack you’re meant to lead side by side with the one currently holding you tight will see you defiled for the very first time in mere minutes. “It’s just you and me right now, got that? Don’t even think about anything else. No one else exists, only us.” 

As much as you wish to believe that to be true, your ears can’t tune out the whistles and jeers coming from every side, biting on your lip and shaking your head, you reach for the Alphas shoulders to hide your face in his chest. “Can’t.. they’re everywhere.”

“I said look at me Omega.” He speaks more sternly, not moving to force you, but waiting for your head to raise and return to his still lovingly warm gaze. “You will not take your eyes off of me, do you hear me? You’re mine, you are only to look at me.”

Without using his Alpha voice he still manages to make your chest tighten, stomach churning anxiously as you nod slowly and he bends closer until your foreheads are pressed together. “I’ve been waiting for this.”

A part of you wants to scream, consider running only to be tackled down by a militia of powerful Alphas, but the other part of you swoons, reminded of the days you craved nothing more than to be by Johnny’s side and ripped your own heart to pieces once you realized the inevitable fate you’d been dealt.

“…for how long, Alpha?” You ask, barely above a whisper, fluttering his eyes in surprise.

“Forever.” He whispers, nose brushing against yours. “I’d wait an eternity for you.”

“You’ll take care of me Alpha?” You question cautiously, lips barely grazing his plump pout. “Make me yours to protect?”

“Always have.” Johnny states, licking your upper lip with closed eyes. He blinks slowly, reaching to cup your cheeks and dip his mouth to yours. “And I always will.”

It may not be ideal nor how you ever allowed yourself to imagine, but as the Alphas lips meld to yours, the tension weighing on your back dissipates. Easing into his dominant touch, you fall into the kiss easily. Every worry and silent wishful hope lets out a sigh of relief throughout your body, dragging your arms up higher to cling around his neck and deepen the kiss.

This time your lips planted together unlocks what you never knew you needed. The Omega inside of you quells instantaneously, rolling around with what can only he a giant smile now that your Alpha finally seems satisfied. The two of you rejoice, drawing him in deeper to grant your tongue access inside the delicious cavern of his mouth. If only a kiss can ignite this much in you, you can only shake as you imagine what more your conjoined bodies can release.

“I’ve got you baby.” Johnny says softly against your lips, for your ears only. “No one else exists.” He repeats, calming the tremble rolling up and down your spine with tender pets. “Your first time?”

You nod, skin flushed with goosebumps as your nerves skyrocket and missile launch to the sky erupting each and every worry you’ve ever had. The Alphas never had to be concerned with any inexperience. Always taken care of with various concubines in preparation for the day they’d have to race for a mate. Johnny knew exactly what to do with you, how to use your body and pleasure himself, only heightening your anxiety.

“You trust me don’t you?” He continues to whisper, brushing against your now swollen lips. “Trust that your Alpha will make you feel good, you’ll always reach your pleasure first with me.”

“Can I trust you Alpha?” You ask for further affirmation, sliding your hands beneath the leather furs draped over his shoulders. 

“Have I ever lied to you?” 

Without answering, you push the furs off, eyes going wide at the sight of ink carved onto his skin. Immediately you reach to run the tips of your fingers across the raised flesh, poked through with sterilized needles and squid ink, half scarred from the forced injury to create the permanent markings. “Is that?”

“You.”

It’s as if you’ve woken up in Johnny’s cabin once more, short of breath as you trace over the lithe wolf prowling along a tree branch between leaves. Large golden flecks stare back at you, running your touch over the leaves as the Omega tattooed on his skin almost watches your movements. “Me?”

“My Omega.”

Grasping your wrist he drags your hand higher to the path of flowers blooming open on his shoulder. “My Omega made of honeysuckle and snow coated grass. As sweet as Autumn and fierce as Winter.”

“Johnny..”

Nights of clenching your eyes shut, pretending to ignore the Alphas eyes appearing in your dreams, shove aside the warmth you sought out from the memory of his touch. Every night and day kept apart had taken more of a toll on both of you than either could have realized, desperate to be close as you sink into his chest and wrap around him with a tight hug. “Alpha.”

“I know.” The gentle tone he keeps with you could erase any fear, comforted by the scent that had been suffocating you. Taking deep long inhales you finally let him in, head hazy as the Alphas scent combines with yours. “Never take your eyes off of me Omega.”

He means it, tempted to use his Alpha voice to manipulate you to follow his orders. It’s hard enough to tune out the whispers and groans that surround you from the crowd gathered around as he begins to strip your flimsy tunic away and slowly takes in every inch of your exposed skin, quietly cursing under his breath. “Beautiful, you’re so beautiful.”

Every touch is soft, voice hushed for only your ears to pick up on, gaze lit up full of love that you can feel each time your eyes meet. Nerves prickle under the drag of his finger, softly gliding down your stomach to the tops of your thighs to part you open, swallowing down a loud deep breath. Embarrassment twitches your knees, wanting to slam them shut as the Alphas lowers to get a close up look and curls his biceps around your thighs. “The most perfect Omega, aren’t you pretty?”

Slick gushes between your folds, shaking from the tips of your fingers to your toes as your peer down between your thighs. Johnny’s eyes shoot up, lowering his thick lips to your center. The invitation of your warm glistening cunt is enough to have him groaning, unintentionally teasing the hood of flesh hiding your clit. Pouty pressed together lips flatten and kiss the bundle of nerves, lighting triggers up your calves and thighs for more slick to drip out onto the Alphas chin grazing across your awaiting entrance.

Given any other circumstance, including the one you could have ended up in, he would have had you present on all fours and fucked you like a proper Omega slut. Alpha urges roar for him to hurry it up, enough to worship your cunt. Ignoring his wolf's demands, he moves lower to kiss at your entrance, slurping up the sweet sticky syrupy slick for the direct source. Burying his nose in to snort your aroused scent this up close. He mouths sloppily at your hole, not even to get you off yet, but to finally have a taste of his dreams. A taste of what he could only imagine for years.

Nothing would ever be able to compare or come close to the heavenly taste of you. 

“My Omega, so sweet. Taste so fucking sweet, pretty pretty girl.” His chins doused with your gleaming arousal when he decides to finally come up from air at the sound of your moans turning into impatient whines. Jerking against his mouth desperately, needing something inside. He can feel it, the frustration coming from both of your wolves, attacking you from inside out to mate mate mate.

The Alphas breath fans across your now sweaty neck, body heat rising at accelerated speed the more he teasingly tortured you. Licking up your scent gland, he drags a way to your ear, biting on the lobe softly. “My innocent Omega wants Alphas cock so badly? Rutting against me like some horny pup.”

And it’s true, without thought your thighs wrap around one of his long muscular legs, jamming your bare core up and down the flexed limb. Hair grazes your slick cunt, making a mess of wet down the Alphas thighs as your hips speed up chasing after a relief only he can fulfill.

“Alpha, I need to.. be closer.” Every and each bone in your body rattles, craving and needing to feel him inside of you. Johnny tenses, eyebrows wrinkling together as he grabs onto your hips and forces you to stop.

“You’re gonna give me a hard time with that pretty ass and pussy, aren’t you?” He says through gritted teeth, eyes fluttering shut. “I’ll fuck you, fuck you full of my pups. Keep you satisfied until all you know is how to take your Alphas cock. Is that what you want?”

Thick palms slide beneath your back, gliding lower to cup and squeeze your ass, encouraging your hips to push down on his thigh again and plead for more. Vigorous grinds of your hips force him to lodge his knees down, shifting the furs laid out beneath you. He grunts, rasping out breaths shakily. “Fuck baby, get it nice and wet for me. Keep doing it just like that.”

As if to warn you, he grips your ass roughly, jamming his hardened clothed length against your hip for you to really feel what you’re about to take. A heavy hot thick rod ruts from your lower belly to your hip, a thin garment separating your lower halves, bowing your spine up pathetically. “Alpha—that, please, please, g-give me!”

A round of groans sound around you, quickly reminding you of where you are, but not long enough before Johnny sits up between your thighs, bringing your hands to his hips. 

“This what you want?” He asks damn near mockingly. Licking at his lips akin to a thirsty rabid wolf. 

“Alpha—want, want it!” 

Hisses, growls, harsh ragged breaths turn louder the more you whine, resisting your Omegas curious urge to glance around. Johnny cups your chin to keep you focused, sleek eyes melting your gaze. “What do you want? Say it clear for your Alpha.”

The size of him above you makes you feel so small, curling into yourself as he positions close between your thighs to jam his clothed size against your drenched cunt. Johnny trembles at the contact, having to sneak a look down as you soak through his light fabric cover up and the shape of his cockhead fully pokes through, pressing the tip to your swollen clit. “Want this?” He mutters, curling the fabric around his cock to slap down heavily between your thighs.

Jerking up in response you let out a howling scream, arms shooting out to grab his biceps. “Please please!”

“Say it!” He growls ferociously, slapping the heavy meat down with audible loud wet claps of skin hitting skin. The contact rushes blood down, chubbing your pussy up in preparation to squeeze the life out of your Alphas dick. 

“Want your cock Alpha! Wan-want you to breed me, pup me!” 

If only you had anything else on your mind other than the Alpha burying inside of you, you’d hear the uproar of feral cries set off around you. Each Alpha willing to sell their soul to be in Johnny’s position right now. They watch on drooling, snarling, rubbing themselves over their garments as your Alpha sits up proudly and strips his lower half free of the fabric. His thick cock bounces up, slapping loudly against the flat planes of his ripped stomach. The visual of Johnny’s chest rising and falling rapidly has slick pouring out of you obscenely, toes curling as you take in the full mass of him. Clenching up as small as you can as you envision what can only be compared to your forearm in size penetrating you.

“Alpha, s’too big..” you say wantonly, still wanting to feel him split you open. Still needy for your Alphas cock to break through your cervix and fatten your belly full of cum.

“I know, baby.” Laying down on you without resting his weight, his cock pressed against your stomach. The tip slotted a few inches above your navel as a preview of how deep he’ll be inside of you soon. Maneuvering his fingers between your thighs, he nips at your jaw, murmuring praises about how wet you are.

“It’s so loud, so warm.” Johnny sighs, sucking on your earlobe. “So slippery between my fingers.”

Tapping at your entrance, he nudges your thighs open further, gliding two fingers in past the ring of muscle that feels as if you’re trying to bite them right off of his hand. Cursing again, he sucks in a ragged breath, licking swirls along your ear. Thumb making way to your clit to loosen up the clamp your cunt has around his fingers. A few meticulous rubs and flicks combined with his hot mouth have you relaxing, shoulders laying flat as he begins to scissors inside of you.

“Feel that Omega? Your pretty tiny fucking pussy.” He grits, fingers beginning to jam in and out of you at heightened speed. “Feel so tight and warm around me, gripping me so good baby.”

Johnny’s nasty words make your mind spin, head thrown back watching the sky above you turn upside down. The sound of your gushing slick louder than anything, muting all but the guttural groans coming from your Alpha. Pleasure scorches throughout your body, reaching for his wrist with a trembling saliva covered bottom lip and watery eyes. “Please, enough. Alpha, I need it, need you.”

He hears you loud and clear, tongue toying with his lip for a moment before drawing free from your cunt. As much as he wants to make this easy for you, there’s no way. Both of you too insatiable and driven by your hunger to be one. To feel conjoined, even if you know it will hurt.

Slowly stroking his cock, he watches your pussy in a trance-like state. Stomach muscle twitching, taking sharp breaths as he rubs a smear of pre-cum around the tip. Dipping his fingers between your sensitive pussy lips again because he can’t help himself, too enthralled by the gush of slick that bubbles out messy and loud. It’s all for him, slowly collecting the wad of slick to coat his cock with like some type of silent apology for what he’s about to do to you.

The twitch your tiny little hole gives in response only makes him groan, setting the head right against your slit to admire the difference in size for a minute.

“Perfect.” Johnny whispers, rubbing his thumb down your clit to the outer rim of your cunt pulsing against his length. He can’t stop his hips from jerking, slowly thrusting to watch your muscle stretch, fighting back the much too large intrusion trying to invade and make a home for himself. The fat tip of his size throbs, pushing it in until he feels your hole snap around him, hissing and biting his lip. “Babies first time, just for me..”

It’s dizzying for him, almost too dizzying to hear your rushed intakes of air, to see your eyes clenched shut, fists balled up on your chest, and your teeth grinding to not scream. Johnny reaches for your forearms, pushing them down for leverage. Slowly he plunges in more, managing to get a few more inches in before pausing to take deep breaths. “You okay baby?”

Nodding furiously, you curse at him to continue. Distracting yourself from the pain by focusing on your breathing. You have to be good, prove yourself worthy, not only for your Alpha, but for the pack of onlookers. Determined to take him, you let out a moan and force your hips up into a swivel, further sliding his length inside.

A slew of curses spring from his lips in shock, reveling in the pressure and tightness enveloping half of his length. “Want it so badly, don’t you.” He says more to himself, moving to grab your hips and hold them down. “But you’ll do as I say.”

He pulls out, a lewd loud pop resounding as Johnny lifts his hips back enough to rub his length up and down. The fat tip of his size purposely nudging and bumping your swollen clit. Each drag against your sensitive pussy further ruining you, sobbing out loud without a care. The hold on your hips keeps you from moving, letting out a desperate shout as Johnny lays his palm flat on your stomach, taking his cock in hand to slap down on against your clit.

“Alpha! N-no!”

“Take it.” He groans, struck by the thick we s of slick that cling to his length with each heavy smack. Emitting pornographic squelching sounds for everyone of the Alphas he will lead someday to hear, to memorize, to know that they will never have a taste of you, let alone ever experience this again.

With a pleased smirk, the engorged tip of his length meets your entrance again. Pussy throbbing like a wounded animal as the Alpha finally presses in again, slowly breaching your hole to make you feel every overwhelming sensation all over again. The pain subsides as pleasure and desperation takes over, incessantly starving to feel him stuff you full. You sob, reaching out for something as he leans in to bracket your head with thick biceps. Finding solace in his shoulders, you claw at his smooth skin, arching up to bite down a scream into his muscle.

It’s heat inducing, arching against the Alpha to get him deeper inside of you. Long thick cock stretching you with each new inch added, too good once fully sheathed inside. You can’t stop whining, licking at Johnny’s smooth pronounced collarbone. Split open by the only one you’ve ever wanted, something about it swells your chest. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders to feel even closer. 

“Alpha, please—“ you start to wail, drooling on his neck, planting haphazard messy kisses.

“What are you begging for, huh?” He chokes out, moving to wrap around your shoulders in the same manner, knowing that your Omega needs to be close. That your heart needs to feel his beating against it. “You’re so tight for me baby. Gonna ruin that perfect pussy you have, make it mine.”

“Ugh!” Dropping your neck back, hot tears fill your eyes, raining down your cheeks as he begins to thrust in and out. 

“All mine, my pretty gorgeous Omega.” He moans, fully pulling out only to ram back in and sending your back arching up with a shout. Johnny can’t slow down, chasing after your release to get to his. Falling into a rough rhythm, he thrusts hard enough to have you both sliding up with each ramming force of his hips. The clenches you give around his cock accompanied by drool coated moans only encouraging him to push in harder, make you taste his cock in the back of your throat from here.

“Alpha..”

“Yeah, what did I say baby? Keep those pretty eyes on me baby. Keep looking at me.” Clutching your neck, he presses your foreheads together. Cock drilling deep past your tight hole. It’s not completely without pain, snapping around the intrusion of his thick long girth. Johnny works hard to keep his own eyes open, consumed by the way your pouty lips fall apart with a moan, how your eyes roll up and back to him over and over again. “Opening up so so good for Alpha. Feel good baby?”

Gliding a hand between your bodies, he lowers closer to your chest, pushing his arm lower to rest the back of your head along the dip of his elbow. Fingers find their way to your clit, circling the bundle of nerves with another thrust, easing more inches past your convulsing heat.

“Ahh—!” Incoherently you begin to nod, head spinning, thighs aching around his hips. The pinch to your clit shoots up your spine, lifting your butt up only to be slammed back down into place with another powerful thrust. Johnny curses, sucking at spit around his tongue as he lifts enough to watch you take the last inch of his cock again.

“Oh shit baby.” He croons, biting down on his lip at the sight of his cock completely disappearing inside of you like nothing. The way you take it only as an Omega can. It’s indescribable to feel your heat suck around him, the way your walls clamp on his size like wet firm kisses. Pangs of pleasure throb up his length, cockhead pressed to your cervix at this angle. “Can’t believe—“ the Alpha drags his slick coated fingers to your lips, pushing them down on your tongue, teeth gritting. “Can’t believe I’m inside of you.”

That awakens your lost mind, licking between his digits as he circles down into you and lets you truly feel how big he is. Each twist of his hips feels like a delicious new stretch, opening your cunt up to always be ready for your Alpha to fill you up. He sighs, smiling and pressing in to capture your lips. Cock thrumming inside of you letting you get used to the sheer size of him. Distracting you with wet and messy glides of his tongue, he continues to slur between sucks, drawing your tongue out with his suctioning lips. 

“Such a pretty fucking pussy baby, best cunt ever.” Johnny sounds lost himself, lapping at the combination of your spit smearing between your chins. “Tight, so tight for your Alpha.”

All you can do is whine and agree between his overpowering kisses, failing to grab his tongue with yours. Johnny controls everything, the way you kiss, the way you fuck, the way your body reacts to him. Infiltrating your brain, lungs, heart, cunt, filling every empty hole inside of you with himself, staking claim to his Omega the way only a real Alpha can.

“Pl-please, Alpha, please,” you start to beg, throwing your limbless arms around his shoulders to weakly throw your hips into a circle. Turning desperate to really feel him, to really get fucked by your Alpha.

He fully lets go, tearing past his own resistance to fuck you full, hard and fast. Wet sounds clap around you, jostled by each punching thrust, swearing you can feel him as deep as your lungs from the way you gag on spit and choke on your breath. Weakly tapping at his shoulders you lose it, clamping on the Alphas size hard enough to make him stop for a moment. Johnny growl’s animalistically, pounding through the splash of slick threatening to push his size out from the force of your powerful orgasm. He keeps fucking you through it, looming large over your body going lifeless beneath him.  

“Knot, g-gonna knot baby.” The veins lining his long throat pop out under sweat glistening flesh, dropping his nose to yours as his stomach convulses and he thrusts in all the way deep surely leaving your cervix bruised. “Fucking—-fu—ahh shit!”

It’s the most shattered he’s sounded, raspy and whiny, coming to a stop as the base of his length begins to expand. Swiping his lips against yours between panted breaths.

“S’too.. can’t.” You beg, lightly tapping his chest. It’s useless, both of you too strung out by the peak of your pleasure. The only option left is to wait it out and grit your teeth through the burn stretching against your hole.

Right as you feel every last inch of your body go limp, Johnny securely cups behind your neck, licking across the top row of his teeth practically salivating at the sight of your extended throat arched up so invitingly. The knot thrums against your walls, painful stretch burning as he adjusts to lower his chest to yours and whisper against your lips. “My Omega.”

The bite hurts initially, gnawing deep through the flesh covering your scent gland. Long canines dig through your veins, sucking at the blood that gushes past his bite. Memories of the first time you met the Alpha flash behind your eyes, weakly sinking your nails into his shoulders as tears rush from your eyes and everything he’s ever wanted to say to you flies around your mind. The days you spent together, the times he always let you win just to see you smile, and the frantic need to protect you. Pain washes away along with the tears rolling down your face, whimpering and clutching onto him as hard as you’re able to.

“Johnny..”

The pitiful sounds that come from his throat remind you of a distressed pup, lapping up your bite aggressively as guilt claws at his chest seeing you grow weaker beneath him.

“S’okay Alpha..” you mumble, sliding your hands up his neck to hold his cheeks. The difference in size seems more daunting now, stuck on his knot that hasn’t deflated one bit, the visual of your small hands thumbing his wet cheeks feels right. Feels as if you’ll never have to fend for yourself as each emotion and reassuring sense of devotion fills your head. 

Johnny’s your Alpha, destined to lead, destined to be yours.

“Hurt you..” he barely whispers, thumb caressing the mark on your neck solemnly. Fighting between his pride and lust to prioritize what you could be going through. “Sorry..”

“No no,” tucking your chin, you capture his thumb to suckle on, head shaking softly. “Love you.”

The look that illuminates his features can only be described as one of love. Adoration and admiration, relief, lightly tipping the corners of his lips upward and releasing the tension pinching at his ears. “Love you, my mate.” He says proudly, knot gone down enough to fix your positions and lift you onto his lap. “Let's go home.”

Without allowing you time to look around, he holds onto your bottom, keeping you impaled in place with his knot as his thighs burn to stand, free hand petting the back of your head and easing your nose to rest against his scent gland, successfully masking your eyes from the Alphas that stand around drooling, hard cocks pulsing, desperate to have a piece of you for themselves. With a last look of warning at the group, he turns and takes the back trail back to his cabin, shushing your whines.

“Almost there baby.”

“We’re going home?” You ask drowsily, clinging onto his shoulders as if you fear the idea of falling, knowing the Alpha would never allow for such a thing.

“Our home.” He states, rounding a corner to the back entrance of his cabin to avoid allowing anyone else that may be roaming around to see you in this position. “You did such a good job for me back there pretty.”

“I did?” Warmth fills your stomach, brows knitting as your hips roll against him on their own to feel the Alphas half deflated knot push past your aching entrance. He hisses, cupping your ass firmly on the way to the bed you rested in yesterday, already soaked with your scent, weakening his knees as he lays you down and hovers above you, fist planted by your sides. 

“So good for me, my perfect Omega.”

Reaching up for his shoulder, you trace the wolf gazing down at you once again, head tilted curiously. “Has it always been me? Really?”

Johnny’s eyebrows gather together furiously, nodding rapidly, clicking his tongue annoyed. “You know that it has.”

“It’s nice to hear.” You smile, biting on your lip. 

“Yeah?” Lowering down, he thrusts the rest of his size in to fill you with every inch, knot gone down enough to shove his length in deep once again. “And me? I want to hear you say it.”

Damp strands of hair hang around your face, framing the Alphas sharp cheekbones, long eyes that stare down at you obsessively. 

“It’s always been you.” You admit, arching up for a kiss. 

Already knowing that is one thing, but hearing you say it strikes a nerve, growling from deep in his chest as he reaches to draw your hands above your head and teases your lips with barely there kisses.

“You’re mine.” Small pecks litter your top and bottom lip, lowering to your chin and jaw, trailing a pathway up to your ear and back as he continues to repeat mineminemine.

“Mine to have.” Another kiss.

“Mine to keep.” Another kiss.

“Mine to save.” Another kiss.

“And mine to ruin.” The last kiss steals your breath, bred full again by the next thrust, only held in place by his solid grip on your forearms.

The Alpha made good on his promise to take care of you, fucked and bred night after night to birth the strongest members of your pack. 

Occasionally you’d find your way back to the forest, now with Johnny by your side helping you climb trees that you insisted on being able to do on your own.

“It’s nice up here.” He hums, laying back on the large part of the base with you on his chest, stroking up and down your spine soothingly.

“It’s nicer with you.”

“Yeah?” His eyebrow lifts, tapping your chin to look at him. “No more running away from me then?”

“You’re here with me, aren’t you?” You tease, pretending to bite his finger.

“That’s my girl.”

he always makes the two of you answer his questions . always make sure u understand what u did wrong instead of u both blindly agreeing or jus cryin through it .

he switches out his punishment methods . neither of u ever know if he’s goin to use his palm , the belt , or paddle when he eventually makes you both roll over , belly on the bed, feet on the floor , n panties pulled down to reveal both your prettie lil butts until it happens . u always end up cryin first before jubie . she tries to suck it in for a while but ends up breakin down too n fightin to squirm away . if either of u happen to do so , armin’ll stand there . . patient n quiet , waitin for u to settle before he continues . s never a count limit with him . the number of spanks is always dependent on how bad whatever it is the two of u did . between em , he’ll ask questions he expects answers to .

“you understand why that was dangerous, right?”

“y-yes, papa, yes!” ):

“what did i say? what’s the rule?”

“can’t leave . . t-the house past d . . dark, hic, without p-permission.”

“two’a you gon’ do it again?”

“no, sir.”