sherewrytes

[sherewrytes]

Connie Springer x Shy Reader (smut)

This is entirely self indulgent 🫣 Reader is neurodivergent

Have you ever believed in love at first sight? The mall was bustling with patrons, though it all seemed to fade into nothing when he first laid eyes on you. Pretty and brown, all dolled up in your little outfit. That fitted hello kitty crop top hugged around your chest and waist perfectly, your baggy ripped jeans with the rhinestone back pockets, and those pure white air forces. Your curls framed your face perfectly, bouncing with each step you took. And those lips -the 5% tint lip liner with the clear gloss combo- had Constance Springer hopelessly sprung.

Connie weaseled his way away from his friend's table at the food court, but not without an earful about how he's "always chasing some girl" and "we supposed to be chillen."

You were at GameStop when he saw you, standing there slightly swaying in place as you read the back of a game case. "Scuse me?" He asked politely, his heart pounding out of his chest when you glance up at him for a split second. You quickly turned your attention back to the armful of games that you just couldn't possibly decide between, murmuring a quiet "Oh, I don't work here."

He so stunned by your response that he almost bursts out laughing, but he caught himself and settled for a for a little chuckle and a cute, dimpled smile. "Where do you work?"

Your cheeks began to heat up, heart fluttering in your chest. Being stopped in public always made you a little nervous, especially when it was a man stopping you. But that dopey grin was working its magic on you. And those tattoos. And his pretty lips. Long, dark eyelashes. Deep, piercing eyes. Fuck, he was cute.

"I-I uh, sorry, I get mistaken for an employee sometimes," you explain, bashfully averting your gaze as Connie's smile widens. He nods his head slightly as you speak, finding the whole display pretty adorable. "I'm a nail tech."

"Oh forreal? You do your own nails too?"

"Mhm," you hum. He's cute, but situations like these are usually pretty difficult to navigate when you're neurodivergent. You're not sure what to do with your hands, where to look, or what to say. There's no doubt you're attracted to him, but some things are just a little harder for you sometimes. Luckily, he didn't seem to be too fazed by your lack of eye contact or by your short responses. Something about your body language told him all he needed to know, a skill you desperately wished you also possessed at the moment.

"I like those. That pink looks pretty on you. What's your name?" He's so direct, it's kind of sexy.

"I'm 🩷"

"I'm Connie. So you play Yu-Gi-Oh?" He gestures to the case in your hand, prompting you to nod your head. Connie reached down into his pocket and pulled out a deck of Yu-Gi-Oh cards, each card individually sheathed in its own protective plastic sleeve. Your eyes light up and you finally flash him that smile he's been after, bonus points for the cute little laugh you peppered in for no extra charge. "You know I keep them thangz on me," he joked, joining you in laughter as you reached into your purse and pulled out your own deck. Connie's mouth flew wide open from disbelief, making you hide behind your manicured nails in an attempt to quiet your giggling.

Your new friend escorted you all through the mall and had been learning quite a bit about you; your clientele, your taste in music, the way you like your nachos, the way you leaned your ear in closer when you wanted to hear him better, the way you fidget with your nails, how springy and bouncy you'd suddenly become when you got to talk about one of your interests. Connie could pace around the mall with you until his legs went numb, but as all things do, your impromptu 'date' had come to an end. It was starting to get late and you absolutely loathed being out during night time.

Connie towered over you, peering down at you with those big, pretty, midnight eyes as you made your way to the exit doors. You couldn't take it, the way he looked at you. Like he was missing someone he'd never met before. Despite your nerves, you decide to be bold and offer him your phone. "You wanna hang out again?" That contagious smile spread across Connie's face once more as he saved his number in your contacts, and once he was finished and you'd put your phone away, he offered you his hand. You watched and waited expectantly, until he chuckled and took one of your delicate hands with both of his larger, rougher ones, his thumbs caressing over your soft skin. "I had fun today, 🩷. I hope you did too."

Connie noticed early on that you were a hopeless romantic, albeit inexperienced. You wanted to take things slowly, feel the sparks between the two of you, whereas Connie had been through his fair share of girls and was honestly kind of a fuckboy. But something about you had burrowed its way into the depths of his heart, making him want to abandon his old ways for you. When you spoke about love and what you wanted from a relationship, the sweetness and softness in your point of view was beyond endearing to him. Being a better man for you was no longer a choice to him. He'd give anything to be the man of your dreams.

A few months into your relationship, you decided to finally let Connie stay the night at your apartment. He was laid up in your arms, your bodies tangled up comfortably together as old cartoons played on your TV. Each time to ran your fingers over the scruff of his hair, you coaxed yet another sigh of pleasure from Connie's pretty pink lips. "Feel good, baby?" You asked in that soft little voice that he loved so much, earning yourself a nod from him. Your fingers trailed all over him -his hair, the back of his neck, his ears, throat, shoulder blades- leaving him in a state of bliss in your arms.

Connie's eyes finally opened as he tilted his head back to plant a kiss on your jawline, making your heart skip a beat. "I love you so much."

"I love you too," you answer with zero hesitation, clinging to your man and peppering his face with butterfly kisses.

It all went by in a blur. Your clothes were scattered around the floor, leaving you naked underneath Connie as he ravished your plump lips. "You sure, princess?" he whispered against your lips in between kisses, hips grinding down against yours and making you whine into his mouth. "You gone let me have this pussy?" You nod, rolling your hips upward and sliding your clit against his tip, earning yourself a lewd groan from Connie.

"Mmmm, yeah, baby, I want that dick in my pussy." Connie's ears perked up in surprise. Where the hell did you learn to talk like that? What happened to that shy, romantic lover girl? He licked his lips, catching the lower one in between his teeth as he slowly sank his tip into your sopping, creamy pussy. Your brows are furrowed, eyes locked on Connie's, despite the multiple conversations you'd had about being on the spectrum and having a hard time with eye contact. What happened to all that?

Your mouth hangs open as you turn your attention to your pussy, watching as his big, angry dick squeezes its way deeper and deeper inside you, filling you so completely that your eyes roll back before he even begins to thrust. Connie wasn't doing any better. His eyes rolled back in his head as your pleasured sighs and whimpers cloud his mind. "You lookin' at that shit, baby?" he coos as his hips slowly move on top of you, your pussy making lewd, wet noises around his dick. "Mhm, I'm lookin', Daddy," you answer breathlessly, pouty lips forming a small "O" as you keep your eyes glued to the lascivious display of carnal desire before you. Hearing you call him daddy with that sweet, pretty voice makes him want to jackhammer into you until you cry, but he settles for a slight increase of pressure, fucking himself harder and deeper into you.

Suddenly, Connie lifts your legs, pinning your knees to the mattress, leaving your legs dangling over his shoulders. He drills his hips even harder into you, his lips and teeth latching onto your dark nipples to suck and bite at them at the same time. "Ohmygod, Connie!" You dig your nails into his biceps, that sexy voice moaning his name going straight to his nuts.

"Mhm," he answers, "Daddy dick feel good, baby?"

"Oohh, I love Daddy' dick," you whine, the sound of Connie's guttural, deep groans and his dirty talk making your pussy grip him even tighter. "That's it, baby, squeeze down on that dick." You squeal, unsure of how much more you can take. The way he's talking to you is unlike anything you'd ever imagined, making you gush around him every time he opens his filthy fucking mouth. "Imma milk that dick, baby, I'm milking that fat ass dick with this pussy," you whimper into his neck, sucking and biting at the soft flesh of his throat, Connie's eyes rolling back from the sting. You rake your pretty pink nails down his spine as he mercilessly pistons himself into you at a disrespectful pace, the sound of skin meeting skin echoing through your room.

"Oooouhhh, Connie, I'm cumming, I'm cumming all on that big dick!" You squeal as Connie drills into your sweet spot, making you see stars as your orgasm tears through you. "Mmmm, shit, cream all on that fuckin' dick baby, fuck, Imma cum, I'm cummin' baby, milk this fuckin' dick," Connie babbles as he mindlessly thrusts into you, forcing your knees against the mattress with his rough, tattooed hands as he slams his cum into your gushing pussy, fucking you both through your orgasms. He punctuates his every thrust with "Take it, take it, take it, fuckin' take it," until he's spent, and finally releases his iron grip on your poor thighs.

"Want me to roll you a blunt, Daddy?"

"You gone be the death of me, girl."

[sherewrytes]

Part 2 is out now

Part 2

WHAT THESE BITCHES WANT FROM A NIGGA

Cause i missed writting for Ony outside of Love and Gunshots

here is a lil fic inspired by me listening to way to much DMX songs

this def gonna have a part two

The studio was alive with energy. The faint hum of a beat looped through the speakers, low enough to talk over but loud enough to keep the vibe right. Smoke curled through the air, the scent of something strong lingering as laughter bounced between the walls.

Eren sat at the mixing board, lazily twisting a knob as he leaned back in his chair, watching the session unfold. Armin stood nearby, scrolling through his phone, probably looking at projections or some business report none of them cared to hear about right now.

Connie was perched on the couch, a blunt tucked behind his ear, grinning as he scrolled through his notifications. He tapped his screen, shaking his head. "Man, they got Twitter goin' crazy right now. They swear me and Ony got a track droppin’."

Onyankopon sat in the corner, quiet but listening, one hand draped over his knee while the other nursed a bottle of water. He wasn’t much for social media, but he already knew what they were saying. His name stayed in people’s mouths—sometimes for music, sometimes for… other things.

“Let ’em talk,” Ony muttered. “Ain’t nobody confirm nothin’.”

Connie smirked. “Yeah, but you know how this industry work. Rumors turn into facts real quick.”

Eren chuckled. “Ain’t that the truth.” He nudged Armin. “Yo, business man, how we capitalizing off this?”

Armin didn’t look up from his phone. “By actually finishing the song, maybe?”

That got a laugh out of everyone except Ony, who only shook his head.

Then Mikasa spoke up, cutting through the noise like she always did. “Speaking of rumors,” she said, arms crossed, “you got an interview tomorrow, Ony.”

Ony’s face stayed unreadable, but his response was instant. “Nah, I ain’t doin’ all that.”

Mikasa barely blinked. “It’s already booked.”

“So? Cancel it.”

“Not happening.”

Ony exhaled through his nose, irritation creeping into his voice. “What for? I already know what they gon’ ask me. Same bullshit—‘What’s the album about?’ ‘What’s your process?’ ‘How many women you really got on rotation?’” He shook his head. “Tired of that shit.”

Mikasa stared him down, unmoved. “Then maybe you should be more careful about what you let people say about you.”

A sharp silence filled the room. Even Eren glanced up at that.

Ony ran a hand over his face, about to argue again, when Mikasa tilted her head and added—

“It’s with Y/N L/N.”

Everything stopped for a beat.

Ony didn’t say anything at first, but the slight hesitation—the way his fingers curled just a little tighter around his water bottle—didn’t go unnoticed.

Connie definitely noticed.

His eyes flicked to Ony, then back to Mikasa, and a slow grin stretched across his face. “Ohhh.” He dragged the word out, leaning forward with too much interest. “Now that’s interesting.”

Eren smirked. “Damn, bro. That name mean somethin’ to you?”

Ony scoffed, shaking his head. “Nah. Ain’t even like that.”

But the way he avoided looking at anybody said otherwise.

Mikasa, as usual, wasn’t here for the games. “Good,” she said flatly. “Then you won’t have a problem showing up.”

Ony didn’t respond right away. He just leaned back, tapping his fingers against his knee, thoughts running deeper than he let on.

Connie, watching him closely, only grinned wider. “Yeah… this gon’ be real interesting.”

The room settled back into a familiar rhythm, but there was a shift now—something hanging in the air that hadn’t been there before.

Ony leaned back, his jaw tight, tapping a slow rhythm against his knee while Connie watched him like he had the biggest secret in the world.

Eren, never one to let a moment slip by, chuckled as he twisted a few knobs on the soundboard. “Damn, I ain’t never seen you this quiet before, bro.”

Ony shot him a look. “Man, shut up.”

That only made Connie laugh harder. “Nah, ‘cause now I’m real curious. You of all people ain’t tryna do an interview? And with her?” He whistled low, shaking his head. “Secrets must be somethin’ serious.”

Ony exhaled sharply but didn’t take the bait. Instead, he stood up, rolling his shoulders like he was shaking something off. “Man, let’s just work.”

Eren smirked, already cuing up the beat. “Yeah, yeah. Time to put in work, big dog.”

The opening bassline hit, vibrating through the speakers, heavy and raw. The track was built for Ony—gritty, aggressive, something that hit you straight in the chest. And then Connie’s smooth, melodic touch came in, making the whole thing feel effortless.

Ony grabbed the headphones off the stand and adjusted the mic. He didn’t need the lyrics in front of him—he’d already been running the bars through his head all day.

Eren gave a nod from behind the glass. “Aight, run it from the top.”

The track kicked in fully, the instrumental pulsing. Connie stepped up first, his voice sliding in smooth:

🎶 "Uh… yeah." 🎶

He grinned, letting the words stretch out as he found the groove.

🎶 "What these women want from a nigga? Everybody askin’…" 🎶

Eren bobbed his head, already feeling it. Armin leaned back, watching with his usual calculating gaze, while Mikasa stayed posted by the door, arms crossed, as if mentally balancing business with personal bullshit.

Then Ony came in.

🎶 "What these women want from a nigga? Shit, I been tryna figure that out myself." 🎶

His voice was low, raspy—commanding. He wasn’t just rapping, he was telling a story.

🎶 "What these women want from a nigga? They love the name, but they don’t know the life." 🎶

The way he delivered it was cold, almost detached—like a man laying out facts, no sugarcoating. Connie picked up his cue, adding another layer to the track, his voice dripping with the kind of confidence that made women weak.

🎶 "Break ‘em off somethin’… Oh yeah, and by the way, it’s the N-Tity!" 🎶

Connie hit that perfect balance of cocky and smooth, grinning as he leaned back from the mic.

Eren let the beat ride for a second before cutting the track. The room sat in silence for a beat before Armin finally spoke.

“Yeah,” he nodded, impressed. “That’s gonna be a problem.”

Connie snickered. “You mean a hit?”

“Same thing.”

Ony pulled the headphones off, setting them back on the stand. The energy was right, the track was solid—but his mind was already somewhere else.

And Connie knew it.

He waited a moment before casually saying, “You know, I bet Y/N gon’ have a lot of questions about this one.”

Ony stilled for half a second. Then he shook his head, grabbing his water bottle. “Man, shut the hell up.”

Connie just grinned, stretching back on the couch. “Nah, I’m just sayin’… interviews get real personal sometimes.”

Eren chuckled under his breath. Armin smirked. Even Mikasa looked like she was holding back a comment.

Ony exhaled, rubbing his jaw. This interview was already getting on his nerves—and it hadn’t even happened yet.

Ony cracked his neck, rolling his shoulders like he was shaking something off. “Run it back.”

Eren didn’t even question it. He just reset the track, the bass creeping in again, that same grimy, no-nonsense energy filling the room.

Ony stepped up to the mic, gripping it like he had something to prove—not to them, but to himself.

🎶 "Come on, ma, you know I got a wife, And even though that pussy tight, I'm not gon' jeopardize my life—AIGHT?" 🎶

His voice hit harder this time, more raw, like he was talking directly to somebody.

🎶 "So what is it you want from a nigga?" 🎶

Connie, still chilling on the couch, let out a low “What?” in the background, matching Ony’s tone.

🎶 "I gave you; you gave me—" 🎶

Then Ony snapped, voice sharper—

🎶 "BITCH!" 🎶

Eren raised an eyebrow but said nothing, nodding along.

🎶 "I blazed you, you blazed me—COME ON!" 🎶

Connie grinned, chiming in smooth, “Yeah, yeah…”

Ony’s delivery was cold, every bar landing like a warning.

🎶 "Nothin’ more, nothin’ less, But you at my door willing to confess—" 🎶

Connie, right on cue: “Yeah, yeah…”

🎶 "That it’s the best you ever tested—" 🎶

🎶 "Aight!"—Connie crooned, voice buttery smooth.

Ony smirked a little, but his tone stayed ruthless.

🎶 "Better than all the rest, I'm like, 'Aight, girlfriend, hold up—'"

Connie jumped in again, sliding in that signature R&B swag—

🎶 "Tell me…"

And Ony closed it out, dropping the last line like a hammer—

🎶 "I gave you what you gave me, boo—a NUT!" 🎶

Eren cut the beat again, sitting back with a low whistle. “Sheesh.”

Armin smirked, clearly amused. “Well… that was direct.”

Connie laughed, throwing his arm over the back of the couch. “Nah, that shit was real.” He turned to Ony, smirking. “Yo, you think Y/N gon’ bring this up in the interview?”

Ony exhaled, rubbing his jaw. “Man, shut the hell up.”

That only made Connie laugh harder. “What? You know she gon’ ask you what these women really want.”

Eren smirked. “Hope you got a good answer ready.”

Ony didn’t respond, just grabbed his water bottle and took a slow sip, trying to act unbothered.

But everybody in the room knew better.

Mikasa, arms still crossed, gave Ony and Connie a sharp nod. “Run the chorus and the next verse for me.”

She wasn’t asking.

Eren smirked, pressing a button on the board. “Aight, y’all heard the boss lady.”

Connie rolled his shoulders, stepping back up to the mic. Ony exhaled through his nose, adjusting his stance.

The track restarted.

This time, the energy was locked in.

🎶 "What these bitches want from a nigga?" 🎶

Ony’s voice was rough, carrying that weight, that grit.

🎶 "What you want? (What you want?) What these bitches want from a nigga?" 🎶

Connie’s voice slipped in smooth, bouncing off Ony’s rawness, giving the chorus its perfect contrast.

🎶 "Really want… What these bitches want from a nigga? Shawty, I keep you up on it, Bling-blingin', all that jewelry, girl, I bought it—" 🎶

His voice dipped into a slick melody, smooth enough to make anybody believe every word.

🎶 "What these bitches want from a nigga? Ayo, tell me what you want from me… Baby, tell me what you want from me (so what you want?)” 🎶

The chorus hit hard, the beat knocking heavy behind their voices.

And just like that—Ony slid into his verse, zero hesitation.

🎶 "There was Brenda, Latisha (uh), Linda, Felicia (okay), Dawn, LeShaun, Ines, and Alicia (ooh)—" 🎶

Armin let out a low whistle under his breath.

🎶 "Teresa, Monica, Sharon, Nicki (uh-huh), Lisa, Veronica, Karen, Vicky —" 🎶

Connie couldn’t help but react. “Damn.”

🎶 "Cookie, well, I met her in a ice cream parlor (right), Tonya, Diane, Lori, and Carla (okay)—" 🎶

Mikasa’s expression stayed unreadable, but Eren was grinning behind the glass.

🎶 "Marina (uh), Selena (uh), Katrina (uh), Sabrina (uh), About three Kims (what?), LaToya and Tina—" 🎶

Connie leaned in, adding his smooth “Woo~” to the track.

🎶 "Shelley, Bridget, Cathy, Rasheeda (uh-huh), Kelly, Nicole, Angel, Juanita—" 🎶

🎶 “Damn.”—Connie again, his voice dripping with amusement.

🎶 "Stacy, Tracie, Rohna, and Ronda (what?), Donna, Yolanda (what?), Tawana, and Wanda (what?)—" 🎶

Ony’s voice was relentless, pushing each name out with weight, like a roll call of his past.

🎶 "Were all treated fairly, but yet and still, Bitches is on some other shit now that I'm fuckin' with Dru Hill—" 🎶

🎶 "But I'ma keep it real (what?), What the fuck you want from a nigga? What the fuck you want from a nigga? (Yeah!)" 🎶

Silence.

Then—

Armin smirked, shaking his head. “This is definitely gonna stir up some shit.”

Connie let out a loud laugh, clapping his hands together. “Oh yeah, bro.”

Eren leaned back in his chair, smirking. “Matter fact, This shit gonna be a hit.”

Ony stayed quiet for a second, his jaw clenching just slightly.

Then, with all the calm in the world, he grabbed his water bottle, twisted the cap, and took a slow sip.

“Man,” he muttered, voice low, “y’all talk too much.”

The beat faded out.

Eren leaned back, nodding to himself. “That’s a wrap.”

Ony pulled the headphones off, tossing them onto the stand. “We done?”

Mikasa, arms crossed, nodded. “For now.” She glanced down at her phone. “I pushed back the interview until the song drops.”

Ony gave her a look. “For what?”

“So you actually have something to promote.”

Ony scoffed, shaking his head. “Man, I ain’t polishing shit. It stays as is.”

Armin, still lounging in the chair by the console, shrugged. “It’s fine.”

Mikasa rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. She already knew how this went. Ony was stubborn, but so was she—so if anything needed tweaking, he’d come around eventually.

For now, the session was over.

Everybody started to relax, stretching out after being locked in the booth for hours. Connie, already making himself comfortable, sprawled out on the couch, phone in hand. “Yo, I ordered food. Should be here in like twenty.”

“Bet,” Eren muttered, lighting a blunt.

Armin was already on his laptop, typing away, probably lining up the rollout for the track. Mikasa was texting, handling business as usual.

Ony sat back in his chair, exhaling.

That should’ve been the end of it.

But then—he noticed how Connie was smirking at his phone, thumbs moving fast.

“Who you texting?” Ony asked, side-eyeing him.

Connie didn’t even look up. “Nobody.”

Ony lifted his chin. “Lyin’ ass.”

Eren chuckled, passing him the blunt. “If he grinnin’ like that, it’s either money… or a woman.”

Ony took a slow pull, watching Connie. “Yeah. So which one is it?”

Connie finally looked up, mischief all over his face. Then, with zero hesitation—

“Y/N.”

Ony exhaled, smoke curling past his lips. His grip on the blunt tightened just a little.

Connie grinned. “She asked how the session went.”

Ony didn’t say a word at first. Just took another slow drag, the blunt burning between his fingers.

But Connie? Connie was watching him real close.

Then, just like that—

He burst out laughing.

“Ayo—” Connie wiped a fake tear from his eye. “Ain’t no way you just made that face.”

Ony side-eyed him. “Man, shut the fuck up.”

“Nah, nah, nah—” Connie was still grinning, way too amused. “You was lookin’ real sick for a second there.”

Eren smirked but kept quiet. Armin glanced up from his laptop, peeping the shift in energy. Even Mikasa glanced up from her phone, side-eyeing them.

But Connie? He was still on Ony’s head.

“Ain’t my fault you let the game pull you from the chick you loved.”

Silence.

Ony exhaled through his nose, tapping the blunt against the tray, knocking the ash loose. Then, low as hell—barely above a mumble—

“Love.”

Connie’s smirk faltered for a split second.

Ony took another pull, jaw tight.

That was all he said.

But Connie caught it.

And for once, he didn’t joke.

Instead, he just went back to his phone, replying to Y/N.

Text Conversation: Connie & Y/N 📱 Y/N: Yo. How’d the session go?

📱 Connie: Shit was fire, as expected.

📱 Connie: Ya boy Ony was in his bag lmfao.

📱 Y/N: Oh? 👀

📱 Connie: Yeah, you gon’ have a LOT to ask about in that interview, trust.

📱 Y/N: Lmao don’t play w/ me.

📱 Y/N: That bad??

📱 Connie: Let’s just say… a WHOLE lotta names got mentioned tonight.

📱 Y/N: Names?

📱 Y/N: …Wait. Like, WOMEN’S names?

📱 Connie: 👀

📱 Connie: I mean, yeah. A whole roll call.

📱 Y/N: …Lemme find out Ony still on that type of time.

📱 Connie: Lmaooo. Ayo, you sound a lil mad. You good?

📱 Y/N: Boy, bye. 🙄

📱 Connie: Nah nah nah, that was hella quick. You sure you ain’t a lil heated?

📱 Y/N: AINT NOBODY WORRIED ABOUT THAT MAN.

📱 Connie: Mhm. Keep tellin’ yourself that.

📱 Y/N: I hope his player ass got media trained bc I’m asking everything.

📱 Connie: Oh, I KNOW. 😭

📱 Connie: Matter fact…

📱 Connie: I lowkey wish I could see his face when you do.

📱 Y/N: Lmao, be serious.

📱 Connie: I am serious. This man paused for a whole five seconds when Mikasa said your name.

📱 Y/N: Stop lying.

📱 Connie: I’d never lie to you, ma. 😇

📱 Y/N: Boy, you a whole menace.

📱 Connie: And yet, you still texting me. Interesting. 🤔

📱 Y/N: Bye.

📱 Connie: Lmaoooo.

YN POV

Y/N stared at her phone, Connie’s last message still sitting there.

I’d never lie to you, ma. 😇

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, debating if she even wanted to reply.

Five seconds? Ony paused for five whole seconds when he heard her name?

That was not normal.

And the fact that Connie clocked it immediately meant he knew it wasn’t normal either.

Y/N sucked her teeth, flopping back against her couch. She didn’t know why she was letting this get to her. She was over that whole situation. Ony was a memory, an old chapter she’d already closed.

…Right?

She sighed, running a hand down her face.

She should’ve known Connie was gonna be messy.

But then again…

Maybe this was karma.

After all, she was about to interview Ony about his player reputation.

And if anyone knew the truth behind that rep?

It was her.

Because she was there before the fame.

Before the rumors.

Before the women whose names he just rapped in the booth like they were nothing.

Flashback: Back When It Was Just “O” and Y/N

Years ago—before the money, before the music, before the world knew Ony’s name—he was just “O” to her.

And back then?

She swore she was the only girl that mattered to him.

They weren’t official—not really. They never put a title on it. But she was his, and he was hers, in the way that counted.

Or at least… that’s what she thought.

She still remembered the way he looked at her, like she was the only thing worth seeing. The way his voice softened when it was just the two of them. The way he held her like he was scared to let go.

But then…

He let go.

And she never really understood why.

One day, it was all good. The next? He was distant. Late replies. Excuses. Promises he didn’t keep.

Then the rumors started.

And when she finally asked him about it—when she looked him dead in his eyes and asked if the whispers were true—

All she got was a long pause.

And silence said everything.

That’s when she walked away.

And Ony?

He let her.

Back in the Present

Y/N blinked back into reality, jaw tight.

Yeah.

She had a lot of questions for Ony.

And come interview day?

He was gonna answer every single one.

Ony took another pull from his blunt, letting the smoke burn slow in his chest. The studio session was done, but his mind was still running. Not on the track. Not on the rollout.

On her.

Y/N.

Hearing her name after all this time? That was the last thing he expected.

And pausing for five seconds? Yeah, that was a slip-up.

Connie caught that shit fast, too.

That’s why he laughed like it was funny. Like it wasn’t real. Like Ony wasn’t still thinking about the last time he saw Y/N—the last time he let himself look at her.

Like he wasn’t the one who let her go.

He knew exactly what he lost. And if he was being honest?

He lost her on purpose.

Flashback: When Ony Walked Away

Y/N always knew how to get to him. Always knew how to make him feel like he could be more than what the world saw him as.

And for a minute, he let himself believe it.

That they could work. That he could have her and still chase this dream.

But the bigger he got, the more the streets started talking. And Ony had been in the game long enough to know one thing:

Loyalty doesn’t mean shit in this industry.

He wasn’t reckless, wasn’t running around like people said. But he knew how the whispers sounded. How they’d make Y/N look at him different, whether they were true or not.

And instead of waiting for her to see him like that—

He made the call first.

“Yo, I just think we need space,” he told her one night, his voice steady, even though his chest was tight as hell.

Y/N’s face twisted. “Space? Since when?”

He exhaled slow. “Since now.”

That should’ve been it.

But it was Y/N.

And she didn’t just let things go.

“Nah, don’t do that,” she said, stepping closer. “You think I don’t see through that bullshit? What’s really going on, O?”

He swallowed hard, jaw locking. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” she repeated, eyes searching his. “So you just—what? You just woke up and decided we’re done?”

“Somethin’ like that.”

Y/N scoffed, stepping back like she finally understood.

“Wow,” she muttered, shaking her head. “You’re really doing this.”

He didn’t say anything.

Because what the fuck was he supposed to say?

That he was scared? That he didn’t want her caught up in the mess his life was turning into? That he cared too much to let her stick around?

She deserved better than that.

Better than him.

So he let her go.

And Y/N?

She didn’t chase him.

She just left.

And now, years later, she was about to walk back into his life.

And for the first time in a long time—

Ony didn’t know if he was ready.

Y/N

Y/N stabbed her straw through her drink, her foot bouncing under the table. Across from her, Sasha was grinning like she just won a bet.

“You nervous?” Sasha asked, sipping her lemonade.

Y/N scoffed. “Nervous? For what?”

Sasha shrugged. “Dunno. Maybe ‘cause you’re about to see the man who broke your heart?”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “He didn’t break my heart.”

Sasha lifted a brow. “So if I text Connie right now and ask what Ony’s reaction was when he heard your name, what you think he gon’ say?”

Y/N went silent.

Sasha smirked. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

Y/N sighed, leaning back in her chair. “It’s not even like that.”

“Then what’s it like?”

“It’s… history,” Y/N muttered. “It’s old. And it doesn’t matter anymore.”

Sasha gave her a look. “Mhm. So that’s why you over here stirring your drink like it personally offended you?”

Y/N stopped moving.

Sasha laughed. “Babe. If you really didn’t care, you wouldn’t be acting like this.”

Y/N opened her mouth, then shut it again.

Because the truth?

Sasha was right.

She did care.

And that was exactly the problem.

The booth was hot, filled with the lingering scent of smoke and whatever cologne Ony had thrown on that morning. The speakers were thumping, bass rattling the walls as Armin adjusted levels on the mix.

It was supposed to be just another studio session. Another day in the life.

But Connie?

He had other plans.

Ony was posted up on the couch, blunt in one hand, phone in the other, scrolling like he wasn’t paying attention. Mikasa was flipping through notes, probably planning shit out for the next rollout.

Eren leaned back in his chair, dragging a hand down his face. “We tryna work or we just chillin’?”

Connie grinned, stretching his arms behind his head. “Damn, my bad, big boss. Didn’t know we was on the clock.”

Eren shot him a look. “ Bro please, we always on the clock.”

Connie waved him off, turning to Ony instead.

“So… you ever gon’ talk about it?”

Ony exhaled slow. “Talk about what?”

Connie’s grin widened. “You know what.”

Mikasa didn’t even look up. “Leave it alone, Connie.”

“Nah, I just think it’s funny.” Connie sat forward, eyes locked on Ony. “How you been out here, big dog—big Ony—but one name got you stuck?”

Ony’s grip on his phone tightened. “Ain’t nobody stuck.”

Connie chuckled. “Right. That why you got so quiet yesterday?”

Ony didn’t reply. Just took another slow drag, eyes locked on the table in front of him.

Connie leaned back with a smirk. “I mean, if it was me—”

“Good thing it ain’t,” Ony muttered.

Connie threw his hands up. “Damn, my bad! Didn’t know it was a sensitive subject.”

Eren shook his head. “You real messy, you know that?”

Connie just laughed. “Shit, somebody gotta keep it interesting.”

Mikasa sighed. “Can we work now?”

Ony didn’t say anything. Just exhaled smoke, let his head rest against the couch.

He wasn’t stuck.

He was just thinking.

And the more Connie ran his mouth?

The harder it was to stop.

Connie tapped his fingers against his knee, watching Ony with that same smug grin.

“So what you gon’ do when you see her?”

Ony exhaled, slow and steady. “Ain’t gon’ do shit.”

Connie raised a brow. “Oh, word?”

Ony didn’t even look up. “Word.”

Connie snorted. “Man, please. You ain’t even slick. The moment Mikasa said her name, you got real quiet.”

Ony finally glanced up, jaw tight. “You still talkin’?”

Connie shrugged. “I mean, it’s funny. Big Ony, unbothered Ony, the same nigga who don’t let nobody get in his head, but—”

Ony cut him off. “You bored, huh?”

Connie grinned. “A lil’ bit.”

Ony shook his head, smirking just a little. “Niggas get one R&B hit and start feelin’ real bold.”

That made Eren laugh. Even Armin cracked a smile.

But Connie?

He just leaned forward, elbows on his knees.

“Aite, bet,” Connie said, still smirking. “If you don’t choke up when you see Y/N after the rollout for your interview next Thursday, I’ll drop it.”

Ony’s expression stayed neutral. “And if I do?”

Connie grinned wider. “Then I get to talk my shit forever.”

Ony sucked his teeth. “Nigga, you already do that.”

“Yeah, but this time, I’d be right.”

Ony shook his head. “Whatever, man.”

“Nah, say it,” Connie pushed. “We got a deal?”

Ony sighed, flicking ash off his blunt. Then he met Connie’s eyes, voice calm.

“Bet.”

The studio air was thick—weed smoke, bass vibrations, and unspoken shit that sat heavy between Ony and Connie. The bet had been made, and Ony wasn’t the type to back out, but the way Connie was watching him, all smug and knowing, made his blood heat just a little.

Eren twisted in his chair, adjusting the levels on the console. “Aight, we running this from the top?”

Ony pulled the mic stand closer, rolling his shoulders. “Yeah.”

Connie cracked his neck and stepped up beside him. “Try not to get too distracted, big dawg.”

Ony shot him a side glance. “Try not to do too much, R&B ass nigga.”

Connie laughed, stepping back as Eren cued up the beat. The heavy bass dropped, shaking the room, and just like that—they were locked in.

Ony didn’t hesitate when his cue hit, voice sliding into the rhythm, sharp and commanding.

"Come on, ma, you know I got a wife…"

His words hit with weight, the flow raw, guttural. Connie fed off that energy, bouncing on his heels before coming in smooth, vocals slipping through the beat like silk.

The two of them went back and forth, perfect synergy. Connie’s harmonies laced through Ony’s rough delivery like a blade wrapped in velvet. It was effortless—like they had done this in another lifetime.

By the time the chorus hit, Eren was nodding along, Armin tapped his fingers on his knee, and even Mikasa—who hardly reacted to shit—was watching with sharp eyes.

The track faded, and silence took over, but no one spoke at first.

Then Armin leaned forward, pushing his glasses up. “That’s the one.”

Eren smirked. “Yeah. That’s the one.”

Mikasa crossed her arms. “We’re polishing it.”

Ony exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “Nah. It stays.”

Mikasa gave him a flat look. “It’s not up for discussion.”

Ony was about to argue, but Armin waved a hand. “It’s fine as is.”

Mikasa rolled her eyes but didn’t push further. She was outnumbered, and she knew it.

The session wrapped, but the energy still crackled in the air. Connie leaned back against the couch, scrolling through his phone like he had nothing to do with the chaos he had just started.

Ony side-eyed him, still catching his breath. “You real quiet now.”

Connie didn’t look up. “Just letting you breathe before I start talkin’ my shit.”

Eren laughed, shaking his head. “You don’t stop talkin’ shit.”

Connie grinned. “And y’all love me for it.”

Ony wasn’t amused. He leaned forward, forearms on his knees. “The bet still stands?”

Connie locked his phone and met Ony’s gaze. “Yeah. Next Thursday.”

Ony took a slow drag from his blunt, exhaling smoke toward the ceiling. “Aight.”

Connie’s grin widened. “That means yes, you gon’ choke up.”

Ony turned his head slowly, eyes dark. “Nigga, I will slap the gel out your head.”

Connie cackled, throwing a pillow at Ony’s face. “Bet.”

Y/N’s POV: Late Night Thoughts

The glow of Y/N’s laptop screen cast shadows across her face, but she wasn’t really looking at it. The email sat open, the words blurring together, but her mind was miles away.

Across from her, Sasha was sprawled out on the couch, chewing on a bag of chips like she wasn’t causing Y/N a migraine.

Sasha side-eyed her. “You been staring at that email for way too long.”

Y/N sighed, dragging a hand down her face. “It’s just an interview.”

Sasha raised a brow. “It’s not just an interview.”

Y/N shut her laptop with a snap. “Sasha.”

“What?”

“Don’t start.”

Sasha grinned. “Start what? I didn’t say shit.”

“You’re thinking it.”

Sasha tossed a chip in her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “Aight, fine. Let’s say I was thinking something. What exactly do you think I was thinking?”

Y/N shot her a dry look.

Sasha snorted. “Oh my God, just say you’re nervous.”

Y/N huffed. “I’m not nervous.”

Sasha pointed at her with a chip. “Then why you actin’ like the deadline itself is Onyankopon?”

Y/N snatched the bag from her hands.

Sasha let out a dramatic gasp. “Damn. That serious?”

Y/N groaned, leaning back against the couch. “I don’t wanna do this right now.”

Sasha smirked. “Right, right. So when is a good time to unpack the fact that the love of your life—”

Y/N threw the bag back at her. “Don’t start that shit.”

Sasha laughed, catching it with ease. “Fine, fine. But you know I’m right.”

Y/N didn’t answer.

Because deep down, Sasha was right.

And that was the problem.

THE DROP DATE

Twitter/X – 10:47 AM

@REALHipHopTalk: 👀 Ony and Connie really snapped on this track. This some real music.

@bitchwholovesrnb: Connie’s vocals??? Ethereal. Ony slid on that beat like it owed him money.

@notyourbabymama: Y’all hear how Ony was talking on this track??? That nigga got history, LMAO. Somebody broke his soul.

@2Trill4U: Nah, the way they used the OG formula but flipped it into something fresh? This gon’ be in rotation all summer.

@ThirstTrapQueen: Me watching Ony growl his way through the verses like a dog in heat 😩🔥 Sir, I will bark back.

TikTok – 11:23 AM

@TrapScholar (stitching the official music video) 🎶 What these bitches want from a nigga? "—NIGGA, WHO HURT YOU?!"

@RnB4L Connie’s little ‘woo’ ad-lib lives in my head rent free.

@HoodPsychologist POV: You listening to Ony’s verse and realizing this nigga is venting.

(Caption: "Somebody call his therapist.")

@MessyMimi The way Ony said, “Bitch” 😭 That wasn’t in the script. That was personal.

Instagram – 12:02 PM

@TheIndustryPlug (Post: Cover art of the track) 🚨 Ony x Connie – What These Bitches Want (2025 Remix) is officially OUT NOW! 🚨

🔗 Stream it everywhere.

💬 Comments:

🔥 @_TheRealOny: Stay out my business. 🔥 @RNBConnie: 🤣🤣🤣🤣 🔥 @MikasaM: 🤦🏾‍♀️

The studio was way quieter than usual. No crazy bet, no heated back-and-forth—just a chill session with the whole crew vibing.

Ony was leaning back on the couch, blunt in hand, scrolling through his phone. He never cared what people thought of his music, but damn, the reaction had him smirking a little.

Connie, as usual, was living for the attention. He had his phone propped up, live on IG, cheesing while reading the comments. “Damn, y’all nosy as hell,” he laughed, shaking his head.

Eren snorted. “they clocked you mid-breath.”

Connie grinned. “That’s star power, baby.”

Mikasa was sitting near the console, arms crossed. “You two are trending.”

Armin, ever the businessman, was already flipping through analytics on his laptop. “Streams are crazy. We got one million in four hours.”

Ony exhaled smoke, barely reacting. “Cool.”

Connie turned toward him. “Bro, ‘cool’?” He pointed at Armin’s screen. “That’s money.”

Ony shrugged. “It’s what we do.”

Connie sucked his teeth. “You kill my vibe.”

“Not my problem.”

Before Connie could throw a pillow at his head, the studio door swung open.

Sasha walked in, hype as hell, phone in hand. “Y’all SEEING this shit?”

Mikasa sighed. “We’re aware.”

Sasha ignored her, hopping onto the couch beside Connie. “No, ‘cause the way people are picking apart Ony’s verse…” She wiggled her eyebrows, looking straight at Ony.

Ony, unfazed, took another drag. “And?”

Sasha grinned. “And they think you wrote it about somebody.”

The room went quiet.

Eren looked up. Armin shut his laptop. Mikasa sighed again. Connie? Grinning like the devil himself.

Ony rolled his jaw, but he didn’t take the bait. “They think a lot of shit.”

Sasha leaned in. “So they wrong?”

Ony didn’t answer. Just took another hit, eyes locked on his screen.

Connie clapped his hands together. “Aite, y’all know what time it is.”

Ony groaned. “Nigga, shut up.”

Connie laughed. “I would—but you just made this way too fun.”

Y/N sat cross-legged on her bed, phone in one hand, scrolling through Twitter with the other. The TL was on fire.

@notyourbabymama: Nah, Ony was talking to somebody specific on that track. WHO GOT THIS MAN IN HIS FEELINGS?

@2Trill4U: The way this man said “Bitch” like she stole his soul??? 😭

@ThirstTrapQueen: Y’all see how Connie hyped Ony up in the background? That’s a real R&B singer right there.

She snorted, shaking her head. Same internet, same mess.

Then, her phone buzzed.

Connie: 👀 Connie: Lemme know what you think, ma. [🔗 Link to “What These Bitches Want” – Ony x Connie]

Y/N sighed. This nigga…

She hesitated for a second before clicking the link. The song started blasting through her headphones—hard-hitting, raw, and cocky as hell. Connie’s vocals were as smooth as ever, but Ony?

Yeah. That man was spitting venom.

Her stomach twisted. The way he rapped… the way certain lyrics hit? It felt personal.

And then, another notification popped up.

Connie is live now!

Y/N clicked in, and sure enough, there was Connie��lounging in the studio, chain glinting, scrolling through the comments while laughing his ass off.

She smirked. Bet.

@ynlovesfries: Boy, answer your phone.

Connie saw it instantly. “Nahhh, why she in here like she not supposed to be calling me first?” He grinned, shaking his head. “What’s up, trouble?”

@ynlovesfries: Who in trouble?

Connie laughed. “You.”

The comments were eating it up.

🔥 Not y’all arguing like siblings. 🔥 Connie, what you do?? 🔥 Y/N, tell us the tea.

@ynlovesfries: What these bitches want, huh?

Connie hollered. “Ayo, chat, get your girl, man.”

@ynlovesfries: Why Ony sound like he was talkin’ to somebody specific?

Connie gave the camera a knowing look. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Y/N rolled her eyes.

@ynlovesfries: I hate you.

Connie smirked. “Nah, you love me.”

🔥 The chemistry is CRAZY. 🔥 Is Y/N the ex? 👀 🔥 Nah, she know something we don’t.

Y/N snorted, shaking her head. This fool gon’ be annoying all day.

And deep down? She knew he wasn’t gonna let this go.

Connie strolled over and plopped down next to Ony, draping an arm across the couch like he owned the place. The camera caught everything—the dim studio lighting, the way Ony’s diamond earrings and bright-ass chain caught every flicker, making him glow like a damn superstar.

“Aye, Ony,” Connie grinned, eyeing the comments scrolling at light speed. “The ladies say they wanna hear you do that bark you be doin’ in songs.”

Ony, mid-blunt rotation, exhaled slow, thick smoke curling in the air. He side-eyed the camera, his expression unreadable.

The chat exploded.

🔥 NOT THE SIDE EYE OMGGGG 🔥 HIS EARRINGS GLISTENING HE KILLIN ME 🔥 Ony I love you pls just one bark 🔥 WHY IS HE SO FINE FOR NO REASON

Without a word, Ony hit the blunt again, passing it off to Eren, who took it off-camera. He exhaled, voice dropping so deep it damn near rumbled through the mic.

“Why you next to me, Connie?”

CHAOS.

🔥 OH HE KNOW HE FINE LMAOOO 🔥 HIS VOICE JUST PUNCHED ME IN THE CHEST WTF 🔥 HE MAKING EYE CONTACT I CANT BREATHE 🔥 Connie move I wanna sit next to him

Connie threw his head back laughing. “Yo, he got y’all in shambles, man.”

Ony smirked—just barely—then leaned back into the couch, unbothered as hell, while the comments continued losing their minds.

The chat was still losing it over Ony’s deep-ass voice when a new comment popped up.

@ynlovesfries: Ony too cool for the bark now?

Connie’s eyes lit up the second he saw it. “Ayo, nahhh.” He grinned, pointing at the screen. “Look who finally decided to pop in.”

Ony, who had been casually slouched, took a slow sip from his cup—but his shoulders tensed. Just for a second. Blink and you’d miss it.

The comments? Oh, they noticed.

🔥 WHY HE STIFFEN LIKE THAT LMAOOO 🔥 Who is @ynlovesfries and why Ony react like that??? 🔥 That was a GUT REACTION, y’all saw that? 🔥 Oh this some HISTORY HISTORY

Connie was grinning like a man who lived for mess. He turned to Ony. “Ayo, big dog, you got a response or…?”

Ony ignored him. Instead, he grabbed his phone and started scrolling mindlessly, acting like he wasn’t paying attention.

The chat went CRAZY.

🔥 NOT HIM PRETENDING TO BE BUSY 🔥 Boy, we see you! 🔥 WHO IS SHEEEE??

Connie just shook his head, laughing. “Aight, bet. We’ll leave that alone… for now.”

But the way Ony’s jaw flexed?

Yeah. Everybody knew this wasn’t over.

Connie was still going back and forth with Y/N in the comments, laughing at whatever slick response she just sent. The energy was playful, messy—exactly what the chat loved.

Then he hit them with:

“Aye, for the record, she ain’t my girl. We just go way back.” He waved a dismissive hand, eyes still glued to the chat. “I don’t want her busted ass.”

The moment the words left his mouth, Ony—who had been sitting back, real quiet, real unbothered—shifted.

“Watch your mouth.”

Silence.

Connie froze.

The chat? In absolute flames.

🔥 NAHHH WHY HE SAY IT LIKE THAT??? 🔥 Ony said RESPECT HER RIGHT NOW. 🔥 Connie blink twice if you okay. 🔥 This man has not spoken in MINUTES and now he wanna regulate?? 🔥 Y’ALL. HISTORY. THERE IS HISTORY.

Connie glanced over at Ony, who wasn’t even looking at him—just hitting his blunt like nothing happened.

That made it worse.

Connie laughed it off—a little too quickly. “Damn, I was joking.” He looked at the chat, then back at Ony. "you good?”

Ony didn’t answer. He just kept smoking, eyes locked on the screen.

The damage was already done.

The chat was going feral.

🔥 YEAH HE GOT A SOFT SPOT IDC IDC 🔥 Connie you fumbled the convo now spill the tea 🔥 Ony’s reaction was too natural, he BEEN like her 🔥 I KNEWWWW ITTTT

Speculation was at an all-time high. And the worst part?

Ony didn’t correct a damn thing.

The chat was still in shambles from Ony’s warning when a new comment popped up.

@ynlovesfries: Now you gotta put respect on my Constance.

The chat lost its mind.

🔥 NAHHH NOT THE FULL FIRST NAME 🔥 SHE SAID “CONSTANCE” LIKE HIS MAMA 😭😭😭 🔥 HE GOT CHECKED BY BOTH OF THEM LMAOOO 🔥 Connie you gon let that slide??

Connie squinted at the screen, dramatic as hell. “Nah. No, she didn’t.”

He pointed at the camera, looking betrayed. “Don’t be out here government-naming me like I’m in trouble.”

Ony, still leaned back, exhaled smoke slow. “You are in trouble.”

The chat? Finished.

🔥 Y/N & Ony tag team is wild 🔥 Connie getting cooked from all angles 🔥 HE AINT EVEN DEFEND HIMSELF FR

Connie sighed, rubbing his temples. “Man, let’s talk about something else. Y’all play too much.”

Connie was still going back and forth with Y/N in the comments, and the chat was eating it up. Meanwhile, Ony had been posted up, saying nothing, just scrolling his phone like he wasn’t even there.

And the chat noticed.

🔥 Ony just here for vibes? 🔥 Bro acting like he on payroll to sit and smoke 🔥 He really “if it don’t involve me, IDGAF” personified 🔥 Ony blink if they forcing you to be here

Even Connie caught on. He turned to Ony, laughing. “Damn, you gon’ say something or just keep sitting there looking pretty?”

Ony, still cool as hell, arched a brow at the camera. Then he spoke.

“Well, ask me questions then.” He exhaled smoke and tapped his blunt on the tray. “Y’all in the chat nosy fr.”

The chat? Exploding.

🔥 OH SO HE WANNA TALK NOW?? 🔥 Not the callout 😭 🔥 SOMEBODY ASK ABOUT Y/N NOW 🔥 Boy you knew what you were doing with that

Connie leaned back, shaking his head. “Aight, bet. Y’all heard him. Go ahead, ask Mr. Nonchalant whatever you want.”

And just like that, the floodgates opened.

🔥 Ony, what’s your body count? → “Wouldn’t you like to know?” 🔥 What type of girls you like? → “The kind that mind their business.” 🔥 You really like ‘em crazy, huh? → Ony just smirked. “Ain’t say all that.” 🔥 Ayo, what’s up with you and Y/N? → Message deleted by Live Owner

Connie side-eyed the camera, scrolling through the comments. “Y’all moving devious in here, damn.” He shook his head, sipping his drink. “Ony, they saying you dodging too much.”

Ony exhaled smoke and tilted his head. “Well, ask me questions then.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Y’all in the chat nosy fr.”

🔥 OH HE WANNA TALK NOW?? 🔥 SOMEBODY ASK ABOUT Y/N RIGHT NOW 🔥 Boy you knew what you were doing with that 🔥 You keep dodging Y/N like she Steph Curry or sum

The next wave of questions came in even faster.

🔥 Be real, you single or just single for the public? → Ony chuckled. “I don’t do labels.” 🔥 Ony, what was the last text you sent? → “‘Bet. Say less.’” 🔥 When was the last time a girl humbled you? → “Never happened.”

🔥 So when you gon’ settle down? → “When I get tired.”

Connie looked over and laughed. “Boy, stop lying.”

The chat ate it up.

🔥 WE NEED TO FIND HIS LAST EX RN 🔥 He said "when I get tired" like he don’t be fighting sleep already 🔥 Nah, we need Ony’s ex to speak UP

And then, right in the middle of the chaos—

Sasha joined the live.

Her little profile popped up on the screen, and before anybody could even say anything, she hit Ony with the kill shot.

“Hey, Ony—how you wanna bet you gon’ choke when you see Y/N on Thursday?”

BOOM.

🔥 SASHA, PLEASE—😭😭😭 🔥 SHE WASTED NO TIME 🔥 OH WE GETTING TO THE REAL QUESTIONS NOW 🔥 Ony, explain yourself IMMEDIATELY.

Connie was gone. He damn near choked on his drink, coughing while trying to hold in a laugh. “Ayo, chill—” He waved his hand, shaking his head. “Man, it’s an interview. Y’all nosy fr.”

🔥 “An interview” LMAOOO NAH IT’S FATE 🔥 INTERVIEW OR DESTINY??? 🔥 Ony so quiet now, huh? 🔥 Sasha knew what she was doing

Ony? He just sat back, dragging a hand down his face like he was choosing his next words carefully. He let out a slow exhale, passing his blunt back to Eren off-camera.

Connie nudged him. “Damn, bro, you stuck?”

Ony side-eyed him but still didn’t answer.

🔥 OH HE SILENT NOWWW 🔥 HE GOT NOTHING TO SAY HUH? 🔥 Ony, blink twice if you need help 🔥 Sasha knew EXACTLY what she was doing LMFAO

Meanwhile, Sasha was just chilling, biting into a sandwich like she didn’t just drop the biggest bomb of the night.

She licked some sauce off her thumb. “What? I’m just saying.”

🔥 "NAH SASHA BEING MESSY LMAOOO" 🔥 "OH SHE KNOWS SOMETHING—" 🔥 "Y/N JOIN THE LIVE, STOP PLAYING!" 🔥 "DROP THE IG @ WE TRYNA INVESTIGATE."

The comments were moving wild fast, but one stuck out on the screen for a second longer than the rest—

@ynlovesfries: Sasha, you being messy now.

Connie immediately saw it and started laughing. “Ayo, she in here—”

Sasha, mid-chew, didn’t even blink. “And?” She shrugged. “She know I ain’t lying.”

🔥 "YOOO SHE RIGHT HERE AHAHAH" 🔥 "Y/N CONFIRM OR DENY??" 🔥 "NOT HER BESTIE EXPOSING HER ON MAIN."

Then, before Y/N could even try to ignore it, Sasha wiped her fingers off and smirked. “Nah, blame your big head-ass bestie for hosting this live.”

🔥 "BESTIE?? SO THEY CLOSE??" 🔥 "CONNIE WHY YOU AIN’T SAY THAT." 🔥 "OH YEAH, THEY BEEN LINKED, I KNEW IT."

The comments went off.

🔥 "Y/N and Ony definitely had a thing back in the day." 🔥 "WAIT, BESTIE? SO YOU TELLING ME SHE AND CONNIE BEEN CLOSE TOO?" 🔥 "OH, WE NEED Y/N ON THIS LIVE RIGHT NOW."

Connie leaned forward, still scrolling through. “Damn, they on your head, ma.” He chuckled. “Y’all got my comments in detective mode.”

🔥 "NAH, CONNIE DON’T DEFLECT, CONFIRM OR DENY??" 🔥 "Y/N, WE NEED ANSWERS, STOP HIDING!" 🔥 "ON Y/N TO FINALLY SAY SOMETHING."

Sasha sat back, sipping her drink, looking at the chat like she wasn’t the one who just stirred the entire pot.

Then someone finally asked the real question.

🔥 "So if Y/N and Connie besties… does that mean she was around Ony back then?"

🔥 "OOOOHHH WAIT A MINUTE." 🔥 "SO THEY DID KNOW EACH OTHER." 🔥 "THIS LIVE GETTING GOOD."

And now? All eyes were on Ony.

Ony, who was still sitting back, still looking unbothered—except for the fact that he hadn’t said shit.

Connie saw the silence and smirked. “Damn, why he quiet now?”

🔥 "ONYANKOPON, EXPLAIN YOURSELF NOW." 🔥 "Y/N, JUST JOIN THE LIVE AND END THIS MYSTERY." 🔥 "NAH, HE AVOIDING EYE CONTACT AHAHAH."

Sasha side-eyed the screen. “Mm.” She popped another fry in her mouth. “He shook.”

As soon as Y/N’s name popped up on the live screen, the comments went crazy.

🔥 "SHE REALLY JOINED??" 🔥 "OH IT’S ABOUT TO GET GOOD." 🔥 "CONNIE, DON’T FOLD NOW."

The split screen loaded, and there she was—Y/N, sitting back in her room, hoodie on, bonnet secured, looking unbothered.

"Y’all really begged me to get on here," she deadpanned, adjusting her camera.

Connie cracked up immediately. "Nah, don’t act like you wasn’t watching the whole time."

"And?" She raised a brow. "I could’ve stayed lurking."

🔥 "LMAO SHE A LURKER FR." 🔥 "NAH, SHE BEEN HERE, JUST WAITING."

Ony, still laid back, exhaled slow through his nose. He passed the blunt off to Eren and finally spoke.

"Y’all don’t got nothing better to do on this live, huh?" His voice was deep, a little raspy, dragging with that same slow, laid-back energy that made people hang on every word.

🔥 "ONYANKOPON HAS SPOKEN." 🔥 "WHY HE SOUND LIKE THAT THOUGH." 🔥 "NAH, MY KNEES WEAK WTF."

And then, out of nowhere—

@dreamdoll_23: "I'm not Cinderella, but I know it fits 😏."

🔥 "WAIT, WHAT??" 🔥 "OH SHE SHOOTING HER SHOT." 🔥 "NAH, GET HER ON THIS LIVE TOO."

Ony paused mid-blunt pass. His dark eyes flicked down at the screen, squinting slightly.

"Ayo, who said that?" He shifted, leaning in closer. "Tell her hit me up."

🔥 "OH HE BOLD—" 🔥 "NO WAY HE JUST SAID THAT." 🔥 "ONYANKOPONYOU GOTTA RELAX."

Y/N? Dead silent.

She side-eyed the camera, clicked the 'leave' button, and was gone before anyone could say a damn thing.

🔥 "LMAOO SHE LEFT—" 🔥 "OH SHE MAD AHAHA." 🔥 "WHY SHE DODGE LIKE THAT??"

Connie? Cackling.

Sasha? Shaking her head.

Ony? Just smirked. "Aight, aight ." Then he took another drag, like he ain’t just set the chat on fire.

As soon as Y/N dipped from the live, the chat lost its mind.

🔥 "NAH SHE REALLY LEFT—" 🔥 "SHE DIPPED SO FAST LMAOO." 🔥 "ONYANKOPON YOU IN TROUBLE."

Connie was still laughing, shaking his head while sipping from his cup. “Damn, she really ain’t wanna stick around for that.”

Ony? Unbothered.

He stretched, flexing just a little as he leaned back into the couch, scrolling through the comments. Then his gaze flicked back to @dreamdoll_23, the one who said she wasn’t Cinderella but knew it fit.

"Ayo, shorty, you still in here?" He smirked, reaching for his phone.

🔥 "OMG NOT HIM LOOKING FOR HER." 🔥 "HE REALLY BOUT TO FLIRT??" 🔥 "Y/N BOUT TO THROW HANDS LMAOO."

@dreamdoll_23 commented: "I’m here, what's up? 👀"

Ony grinned, licking his bottom lip. "Aight, bet. Drop your IG real quick."

The chat went insane.

🔥 "ONYANKOPON YOU A MENACE." 🔥 "Y/N LEFT TWO SECONDS AGO AND YOU ALREADY MOVING??" 🔥 "BRO GOT NO CHILL."

Connie, watching from the side, shook his head and muttered, "Nah, this man different."

Once @dreamdoll_23 dropped her IG, Ony clicked over to her page right there on live. The screen dimmed slightly as he scrolled through her pictures.

"Oh, you look good, ma." His voice was smooth, deep, dragging in that slow, syrupy way that made the chat explode.

🔥 "NOT HIM DOING THIS IN FRONT OF US." 🔥 "HE REALLY SCROLLING THROUGH HER PICS??" 🔥 "Y/N AIN’T GON LIKE THIS."

Ony smirked, tapping on one of her photos. “Damn, where you from?”

@dreamdoll_23: "NYC, why? You trying to fly me out? 👀"

Connie lost it, nearly spitting out his drink. "Oh hell nah," he wheezed.

Sasha popped back into the chat. "LMAOO not Ony with the bottle girl rizz on IG live."

Ony, still scrolling through her page, chuckled. "I might. You tryna get flewed out?"

🔥 "NOT FLEWED OUT—" 🔥 "OH HE IN HIS BAG NOW." 🔥 "Y/N GONNA BE HOT WHEN SHE SEES THIS."

Someone in the chat: "She look good, but she not Y/N tho."

The whole vibe shifted for a second.

🔥 "LMAOOOOOOO YALL PETTY." 🔥 "WHO SAID THAT." 🔥 "NO ONE CAN ESCAPE Y/N'S SHADOW I SWEAR."

Ony? Still scrolling, still cool. "Y’all love bringing up old shit," he muttered, but there was the tiniest flicker of something in his expression.

Connie? Watching like a hawk.

Sasha? Not letting up.

"Ayo, Ony, you can flirt all you want, but bet money you still gon' freeze up when you see Y/N next week."

🔥 "OHHHHH SHIT." 🔥 "SHE NOT WRONG THO." 🔥 "ONYNKOPON, BE HONEST—YOU SHOOK?"

Ony chuckled, shaking his head. He took another slow drag from his blunt, exhaled thick smoke, and said,

"Man, y’all really think I'm worried? Aight, bet. We’ll see."

a next girl shot her shot saying they say shooters shot hey Onyankopon Carter what up with you.

The moment that comment hit the chat, the whole live went stupid.

🔥 "NAH SHE ATE THAT." 🔥 "SHE SAID WHAT SHE SAID." 🔥 "Y/N COME BACK IMMEDIATELY."

Onyankopon grinned, flashing his grillz as he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “Aight, who said that?” He scrolled back up, eyes flicking over the flood of reactions. @bigfine94—her profile pic was cute, lips glossy, nails done.

“Ayo, @bigfine94, I see you,” Ony said, his voice dropping a little.

🔥 "LMAO NOT HIM ACKNOWLEDGING IT." 🔥 "SHE REALLY BOLD FOR THAT ONE." 🔥 "SOMEONE GET Y/N ON THE LINE."

@bigfine94: "Yeah, yeah, you see me. But what’s up with you?"

Ony chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m chillin’, ma. You out here tryna make me risk it all on live?”

🔥 "NOT RISK IT ALL—" 🔥 "Y/N GONNA HAVE TO CLOCK IN." 🔥 "THIS MAN TOO SMOOTH WTF."

@bigfine94: "I mean… that smile would look even better when I’m looking back at you. 👀"

THE WHOLE CHAT LOST IT.

🔥 "NAH SHE WON." 🔥 "SHE REALLY SHOT FROM HALF-COURT." 🔥 "Y/N WHERE YOU AT BABY??"

Connie fell out laughing, slapping his knee. “Yo, I like her! She got bars!”

Even Eren, off-camera, let out a low whistle. “Damn.”

Ony? Grinning, licking his bottom lip. "Oh, you bold, bold."

@bigfine94: "Gotta be when it comes to you. 😘"

🔥 "SHE WANT HIM FR." 🔥 "Y/N CHECK YOUR PHONE NOW." 🔥 "ONYANKOPON SMILING TOO HARD."

Ony leaned back, rubbing his jaw. “Aight, @bigfine94, I’ma remember you.”

Connie shook his head, still laughing. “Yeah, you gon’ remember when Y/N cusses your ass out.”

🔥 "CONNIE KNOWS THE TRUTH." 🔥 "THIS GON BE A PROBLEM." 🔥 "Y/N GOTTA SEE THIS."

And just like that, the chat had a new mission—tagging Y/N everywhere.

The chat was already in shambles, but the second Y/N’s name popped up again, things escalated.

🔥 "NAH WHERE Y/N AT??" 🔥 "SHE GOTTA SEE THIS." 🔥 "THAT GIRL REALLY TOOK HER SHOT AND HE SMILING TOO HARD LMAOO."

Sasha, who had been kicking back, watching the chaos unfold, finally spoke up on the live. She adjusted her camera and squinted at the chat.

“Ayo, y’all messy as hell.” She shook her head, laughing. “Why y’all keep bringing Y/N into this? She don’t know Ony like that.”

🔥 "SASHA, BABY, WHY YOU LYIN'??" 🔥 "👀👀👀 SHE SAID WHAT NOW??" 🔥 "NAH WE GOT RECEIPTS."

And just like that, someone in the chat decided to be a full-blown detective.

@deepdiver56: "NAH NAH. You a liar. If y’all scroll all the way down Ony's IG, there’s a pic of them together looking real cozy."

🔥 "WAIT, WAIT, WAIT—" 🔥 "SAY YOU SWEAR." 🔥 "SOMEBODY PULL UP THE LINK IMMEDIATELY."

Ony, who had been laughing, smirking, and playing along this whole time—froze.

Not for long. Just a split-second hesitation. But it was long enough for the chat to notice.

🔥 "GOT HIM." 🔥 "HE FROZE UP LMAOOO." 🔥 "NAH NOW WE NEED ANSWERS."

Connie caught that too, and this man WAS LOVING IT. He leaned into the camera, grinning.

“Damn, Ony, why you stop laughing?” He tilted his head. “You ain’t got nothing to say?”

🔥 "CONNIE A MENACE." 🔥 "HE POKIN’ THE BEAR LMAO." 🔥 "ONY STIFF AS HELL RN."

Ony exhaled slowly, licking his bottom lip before sitting back and picking up his blunt. He took a deep pull, the ember glowing as the chat waited on his response.

“Niggas be bringing up ancient history,” he muttered, voice smooth, heavy. He passed the blunt to Eren off-camera, not looking at the phone.

🔥 "OH HE SICK." 🔥 "‘ANCIENT HISTORY’ MY ASS." 🔥 "Y/N NEEDS TO WAKE UP RN."

Sasha, seeing how cornered Ony looked, tried to smooth things over. “Look, all I’m saying is y’all reading too deep into shit.”

The chat wasn’t hearing it.

@pullupreceipts: "NOOOO CUZ LOOK—"

And before Ony could even shut it down, someone had dropped the link to the old post.

🔥 "YALL MOVE TOO FAST WTF." 🔥 "OH NAH, THIS PIC KINDA INTIMATE??" 🔥 "ONY, BE SO FR RIGHT NOW."

Connie grabbed his phone, clicked the link, and busted out laughing. “Oh yeah,” he said, spinning his phone to Ony’s face. “Bro, you can’t tell me this don’t look like something.”

Ony glanced at it, jaw tensing slightly. The pic wasn’t even that bad—just an old shot from way back. Him and Y/N at some house party, shoulder to shoulder, his arm resting behind her on the couch, a red cup in his other hand.

But the way he was looking at her?

🔥 "NAH. HE LOOKS WHIPPED." 🔥 "HE CAN'T EVEN DENY IT." 🔥 "Y/N BETTER TAP IN REAL QUICK."

Ony sucked his teeth and waved Connie off, voice gruff. “Man, get that out my face.”

🔥 "HE MAD." 🔥 "NAH THIS LIVE TOO GOOD." 🔥 "Y/N WE NEED A RESPONSE ASAP."

And just like that, the entire chat was blowing up her notifications.

Some raggedy tea page said they were gonna record the live

The chat exploded at that statement, and things took a sharp turn.

🔥 "NAH THEY REALLY ABOUT TO MAKE A VIDEO OUTTA THIS??" 🔥 "I CAN'T WAIT TO SEE THIS ON YOUTUBE." 🔥 "SOMEONE SCREENSHOT THIS. I NEED TO KNOW WHAT THEY GONNA SAY ABOUT THIS LIVE."

Connie, ever the instigator, couldn't help but laugh at the drama unfolding. “Yo, they really gonna make content outta this? I might as well sell my clips to ‘em at this point.”

🔥 "CONNIE A MESS." 🔥 "HE TOO COMFORTABLE WITH THE CHAOS." 🔥 "IF THIS GETS PUT ON YOUTUBE, YALL KNOW IT’S GOING VIRAL."

Sasha rolled her eyes from the side, shaking her head. “Man, y’all wild.” But even she couldn’t deny the entertainment value of the situation.

Then, the tea page made their mark:

@TeaTimeWithTash: “I’m recording this entire live. I’m dissecting every second for my YouTube, y’all better believe that. Stay tuned.”

🔥 "SHE'S DOING GOD'S WORK." 🔥 "I'M FINNA BE IN THE COMMENTS." 🔥 "THEY GONNA EXPOSE EVERYTHING."

Ony sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, looking done. “Y’all really finna turn this into a whole show, huh?” he muttered under his breath. He looked straight into the camera, his eyes narrowing. “Fine. Keep playing. Just wait ‘til the real interview drops. Then we’ll see who really has the story.”

🔥 "OOOOOH, TALK YOUR TALK." 🔥 "HE READY TO DROP THE TRUTH." 🔥 "MAN SAID THE REAL STORY."

Connie leaned back and shrugged, pretending to be nonchalant. “Shit, let ‘em have their fun. The reception is already wild.”

Sasha, realizing just how deep the mess was getting, tried to get things back on track. “Aight, aight, that’s enough for today. Y’all are really out here making mikasa's job harder.”

But the chat was relentless. Everyone had their eyes glued to the screen.

🔥 "YALL KNOW THIS ABOUT TO GO CRAZY ON THE INTERNET." 🔥 "SASHA, YOU KNOW YOU CAN’T STOP THE STORM." 🔥 "SO WHAT ABOUT THAT PIC??"

The chaos finally calmed down, but only slightly. Connie, still lounging comfortably in the chair, leaned back and checked his phone. His smile faltered when he saw his notifications blowing up—from Y/N.

He rolled his eyes, his lips curling into a grin as he swiped open his messages. Y/N’s texts were coming in fast and furious, each one more fiery than the last:

Y/N: "I swear, you really out here causing trouble? What’s this nonsense you got me involved in?" Y/N: "Why you acting like I’m some kind of side chick?"

Connie bit back a laugh, knowing exactly what he was doing. He wasn’t about to let this slide. His fingers tapped out a quick reply:

Connie: "C’mon Ma, it ain't like that. Chill, we all know it’s just some fun."

But before he could finish typing, his phone started blowing up again—this time with voice notes from Y/N. He looked over at Ony, who was still quietly smoking, smirking at the chaos and still watching people go off on the live. The fans in the comments had noticed Connie’s sudden activity on his other phone and took it the wrong way.

🔥 "Connie out here texting some girl while on live??" 🔥 "We see you, Connie. Don’t act like we don’t know." 🔥 "I swear Connie’s always got some new girl on the side."

Meanwhile, Connie was trying to hold it together, though his attention was clearly split. He didn’t care much about the comments—he was more focused on Y/N’s voice notes.

He pressed play on the first one:

Y/N’s voice: “Don’t even try to play me right now. You really out here acting like we cool with this? I’m not one of your damn groupies.”

Connie couldn't help but chuckle. "I know she’s mad… but damn, she sound good." He quickly hit reply:

Connie: "You know I ain't like that. Stop trippin', it’s just a lil’ live to mess with the fans."

The next voice note came through, and it was longer this time.

Y/N’s voice: “Man, don’t play with me. You know what you’re doing. You can’t keep me out here looking dumb for a bunch of randoms who think they know us. I ain’t some prop you can use for content, Connie. Stop it.”

Connie looked at the screen, grinning mischievously. He knew he had to play it cool.

Connie: "C’mon, ma. You know I got love for you. It’s just for the live. Ain’t nobody here serious, and you know that. But you gonna make me pull up on you again, huh?"

He clicked send and leaned back, glancing at Ony who was now chuckling under his breath. The reactions on the live had already taken a life of their own, with people speculating left and right.

🔥 "Y’all peepin’ Connie’s texts?" 🔥 "He gotta be texting some girl. Ain’t no way he not." 🔥 "Yo, why y’all making this mess, Connie?"

Connie just smiled to himself. “Nah, don’t worry. This ain't what they think.”

But the situation was spiraling in ways no one could’ve predicted. Connie was getting his inbox blown up with messages from fans who thought it was all about him texting a new girl.

🔥 "Connie, you got a new shorty or nah?" 🔥 "Y’all gotta put some respect on Y/N's name tho, why she getting dragged into this mess?"

As the notifications kept popping up, Connie got a quick idea. He typed out another message to Y/N:

Connie: "Let me call you. I ain't finna let the fans get this twisted. Let's talk it out."

He hit send, then quickly switched back to the live screen. The fans were still commenting, but now their focus was split. Some of them were more intrigued about the mystery woman, while others were invested in whether Connie and Y/N would finally clear things up.

The live ended after a few more minutes, but Connie wasn't done just yet. He called Y/N directly, hoping she’d answer—knowing the game wasn’t over until they both had their say.

Y/N’s POV:

The second I left that damn live, I felt relief—but it was short-lived. The chaos I had just stepped away from continued to churn in the background like a storm. I pulled my phone out of my pocket, fingers hovering over the screen for a moment as I took a deep breath.

I knew I had to check.

I opened my spam account, because this was definitely the kind of mess that needed to be observed with a little distance. The comments section was on fire, and I couldn’t even blink without something new popping up. People were dissecting every word I said, every movement, and the way Ony reacted to me. Honestly? I wasn’t surprised. They’d been on our necks since day one, trying to piece together a puzzle we weren't even sure of ourselves.

I scrolled through the live recap and watched it all unfold again:

Ony still sitting there, looking like he was unbothered, but I knew deep down it was all just an act. The way he was flirting with those girls, dropping bars like it was nothing, and the way he casually slipped into his player role. It made my stomach churn in a way I couldn’t quite explain. I shouldn’t be mad—I mean, that was Ony after all—but for some reason, today hit different.

He wasn’t even trying to hide it, really. He kept calling out the girls, knowing full well the camera was on him, reading off the comments. He wasn’t even sparing me a second of attention… until they started mentioning my name.

The comments flooded in:

🔥 "I heard Y/N and Ony used to be close, anyone else see that old pic of them together?" 🔥 "Y’all think they linked up again?" 🔥 "Yo, anyone else notice Ony stiffen when they said her name?"

I saw Connie’s comment too, cracking jokes, calling me out for being messy, and every time I saw his face, I wanted to scream. He was egging everything on. He knew exactly what he was doing. And I was over here, stuck in my head, trying to figure out why the hell I ever thought we’d have a chance at being something real.

But as I kept watching, something caught my eye. Ony—he was still flirting, but there was that moment… That moment when someone had mentioned my name again. He froze, and it was almost unnoticeable. The way his body stiffened, how his eyes flickered for just a second. He’d seen me, right? He had to have.

My chest tightened, the whole situation getting way more personal than it had any right to. And then, out of nowhere, the screen filled with this one comment that I wasn’t ready for:

🔥 "Ayo, if y’all scroll down Ony's IG, there's a pic of him and Y/N looking mad cozy. Bet they used to mess with each other for real."

It felt like my breath caught in my throat as I immediately pulled up his Instagram, my thumb moving on its own. The pic was there, the one we tried to forget. Me and Ony, our arms draped around each other, looking like we were in our own little world. The comments exploded with speculation, and it didn’t help that Ony froze in the live when it was brought up.

That was the part I had been trying to avoid. The truth I had been running from.

I was just about to back out when Sasha’s voice broke through my thoughts. She was on the live too, teasing Ony and Connie about us. I was already feeling awkward enough but hearing Sasha say, “Sasha you being messy now, they don’t even know Ony like that,” just made it worse. It was clear that everyone knew something was going on, even if no one had the full story.

And then came the comment that made me sigh.

🔥 "Nah nah, u a liar. If y’all scroll all the way down, Ony’s IG got pics of him and Y/N from back in the day looking real cozy!"

That moment was the one where everything changed. The floodgates opened. The speculations were no longer rumors. They were facts now, and I couldn’t deny it. My phone was buzzing like crazy, Connie was probably texting me again, and I didn’t even know how to respond.

I needed space.

I needed time to think about it all. But all I wanted to do was shut down. So I turned my phone off for a second, letting out a long breath. What the hell was I doing? What was this really all about?

The minute I swiped my phone back on, I could feel the weight of it all. Connie had probably texted me again, and I knew damn well that Ony was probably still trying to keep up the same front in the live. The world seemed to be spinning faster than I could keep up. I could feel the drama building, and I wasn’t sure if I was ready for whatever came next.

But before I could process it, my phone buzzed again. This time, it was a new message:

“You up?”

It was from Connie.

I took a deep breath, knowing this was the moment where everything could either get better… or even worse.

I stared at my phone, the screen lighting up with Connie’s name flashing across my notifications. Text after text and a voice note popping up right after. My fingers hovered over the screen as I debated whether to even listen to his damn voice notes. I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was probably laughing his ass off on the other side, thinking this whole mess was some kind of game.

But I wasn’t playing.

I wasn’t sure if it was the live still replaying in my mind or the fact that the whole world seemed to be speculating about my past with Ony, but I couldn’t take it anymore.

I tapped on the first message.

Connie: “Ayo, you see what’s going on in the live? You know the fans always digging for something, but you’re making it worse by not even acknowledging it. Come on, we just having fun!”

I rolled my eyes. Fun? Really? This wasn’t fun. This was messy, and I didn’t sign up for this shit. I typed a reply, my fingers typing faster than my brain could process.

Y/N: “Messy?? You think this is funny? You’re encouraging this chaos, and I’m over here trying to move on, and now all of a sudden my entire past with Ony’s getting dragged up. You think that’s a joke?!”

I stared at the screen for a second, feeling my pulse quicken. His next voice note buzzed through.

Connie's Voice Note: "C'mon, Y/N. I get it, you're not into all this public drama, but look, they love to speculate, and that's what they do. Just let it ride, fam. Ony ain't trippin', you shouldn’t either. You already know how the game goes. No need to act like you ain't got a little fun in you. You good, I promise.”

His voice was calm, but that didn’t make me feel any better. If anything, it pissed me off more. I took a moment to breathe, then replied, feeling the heat rise in my chest.

Y/N: “Nah, I don’t care if we’re best friends, this shit ain’t funny, Connie. You’re out here hyping it up like it’s a damn game. I’m over it. I didn’t ask for any of this. I’m not some side character in y’all’s reality show, and I’m done letting people drag me into this mess.”

I hit send, then threw my phone on the couch, running my hands through my hair. This whole situation had gone from annoying to straight-up frustrating. I wasn’t a part of their drama—not anymore—and if they couldn’t see that, I didn’t know what to do.

Then the phone buzzed again, almost instantly.

Connie’s Text: "Alright, alright. My bad, I feel you. But you know how these lives go. Don’t stress it. You know me better than anyone, and I got your back."

I stared at the message for a long moment, trying to process it. He wasn’t wrong about one thing: I did know him better than anyone. But that didn’t make it any easier to ignore what had happened in the live. Ony was in there, putting on his usual show, acting like everything was just business as usual.

But this wasn’t business as usual to me.

Ony and I had a past. That wasn’t something that could be erased just because people were speculating. And the way he just sat there, flirting with those fans while I was being dragged through the mud, made me question a lot of things.

I leaned back, shaking my head. He had a way of making everything seem effortless, like nothing ever mattered. But maybe that was the problem.

Maybe it never mattered to him.

I closed my eyes for a second, letting the thoughts settle. The buzz of my phone pulled me back to reality. Another text, this time from Connie.

Connie: "Y/N, seriously. I’m just trying to lighten the mood. Look, Ony will handle it. The live's over, and the smoke will clear. You’ll see."

I didn’t reply right away. Instead, I felt my frustration bubble up again. If only it were that easy. But nothing with Ony was ever easy.

I grabbed my phone, hit Connie's number, and let it ring through, hoping he'd answer. He picked up on the third ring.

“Y/N, I know you're mad, but—”

I didn’t let him finish. “Connie, this isn’t about you or me. It’s about the fact that I’m not playing this game. I don’t care if you think it’s fun. I’m tired of being caught in the middle of this shit. It’s messy. I didn’t sign up for it, and I’m done being your entertainment.”

There was silence on the other end for a second. “I get it,” he finally said, voice softer. “I really do. But, Y/N, you know better than anyone, the game never stops. People love the drama, and they love the what-if stories. Hell, we all do.”

I sighed, feeling the weight of everything. “Not this time,” I muttered, before hanging up.

I wasn’t looking for drama. I wasn’t here to be part of a show. I was done with that life.

But somehow, I couldn’t stop thinking about the one person who was always in the background of it all—Ony. And I wasn’t sure I could ever really move past it.

I heard Connie chuckle on the other end of the line, and I immediately knew where this was going.

“I know what this is about,” he said, a playful tone in his voice. “It’s about Ony flirting with those IG baddies on the live, isn’t it? That’s what’s got you all stressed out like this.”

My stomach dropped. He wasn’t wrong, but hearing him say it out loud just made everything feel more real, more exposed. I rubbed my temple, letting out a frustrated sigh.

“Connie,” I said, my voice low. “Don’t act like I’m the only one who saw that. You think I don’t know how this looks? I’m over here, trying to handle everything, and he’s out there, acting like he didn’t just ruin everything. Flirting with those girls, and I’m supposed to just let it slide?”

There was a brief silence on the other end, and I could almost hear Connie processing my words. Then he finally spoke up again, his tone quieter this time.

“Look, Y/N, I’m not saying you’re wrong for feeling like this. But I’m telling you, Ony’s not like that. He’s always been this way. You know him better than anyone else, and you know how he plays the game.”

“I get that, Connie, but that doesn’t make it easier,” I snapped, my patience wearing thin. “I can’t keep pretending like it’s all just for show. When it’s me, it’s real. So what the hell am I supposed to think when he’s out there laughing it off?”

Connie let out a deep breath. “I get it. You want him to be real with you, but he’s… well, he’s Ony. You know how he is. He keeps his distance. That’s his thing. He doesn’t let people in.”

“Yeah, well,” I muttered, my frustration bubbling back to the surface, “I used to think I was someone he let in.”

“Y/N, come on,” Connie said softly, a little more serious now. “You know he’s always had a way of keeping things complicated. But you were always more than just another girl to him. If you think otherwise, you’ve got it twisted.”

I felt a lump form in my throat at his words. Connie always knew how to hit me where it hurt, even when he wasn’t trying to. It was too easy for him to say things like that, to remind me that I wasn’t just a part of the game.

But that didn’t change the fact that Ony had chosen to let me walk away. He could’ve stopped me. He didn’t.

And now, it was too late.

I swallowed hard, trying to keep myself composed. “I’m not going to be a part of his little publicity stunt just to make him look good,” I said firmly. “This isn’t some reality TV show. It’s my life.”

Connie paused before answering, his voice a little more hesitant. “I feel you. But, look, Ony’s not trying to hurt you. He’s just… doing his thing. You just gotta trust that he knows what he’s doing. When you see him Thursday, you’ll see it.”

“You think so?” I asked, the words heavy with doubt.

“Yeah. I do.” There was a moment of silence between us before Connie added, “And if you need to talk before Thursday, you know where to find me.”

I didn’t respond right away, taking a few seconds to breathe before I finally said, “Yeah. Thanks, Connie. I’ll think about it.”

After a beat, I hung up.

My mind was racing. What was I even supposed to think about all this?

I tossed my phone back down onto the couch, staring at the ceiling as the weight of everything pressed down on me. Ony was out there, doing his thing, while I was over here, trying to make sense of it all. But was I really going to let him walk all over me again? Just because he wanted to keep up the player image?

I wasn’t sure I could keep up with this anymore. And the hardest part was that I didn’t know whether I even wanted to try.

But one thing was for sure—I wasn’t just going to sit back and let him get away with it. Not this time.

[sherewrytes]

WHAT THESE BITCHES WANT FROM A NIGGA Part 2

Cause i missed writting for Ony outside of Love and Gunshots

here is a lil fic inspired by me listening to way too much DMX songs

Part Two... There maybe 2 or 3 more parts after this cause I wrote this shit to long lol

Thursday arrived quicker than I had expected, and the tension was practically palpable as I made my way to the studio. I didn’t know what I was expecting, but whatever it was, I wasn’t prepared for the weight of the moment. The nerves gnawed at my insides, but I pushed them down. This was business, after all. We were here to work, and I wasn’t about to let all the mess from last night get in the way.

The interview was set for later in the afternoon, and I knew Ony was probably already at the studio, decked out like usual. He had a reputation to maintain, after all, and he took that shit seriously. It wasn’t like I was gonna walk in there and see some chill, relaxed dude ready to talk about everything. No, Ony was always Ony—sharp, cool, a little untouchable.

I ran a hand through my hair and adjusted my outfit one last time before stepping into the studio building. I was dressed to the ninth, of course, because what else would I do when I knew Ony would be there looking like he stepped out of a damn magazine? I couldn’t let him one-up me, not when he was the one who made me feel like I had to prove something.

As soon as I stepped through the door, I saw him across the room. Ony was sitting in a chair by the soundboard, his feet propped up, an air of confidence surrounding him like it always did. He was wearing his usual oversized hoodie and baggy jeans, the silver chain around his neck glinting under the studio lights, his diamond earrings catching every flicker of the light. His presence was magnetic, as always, but there was something different today.

He was distracted—too distracted, in fact. It was like he was trying to act like it was any other day, but I could feel the tension in the air. I wasn’t sure if it was just me or if he was feeling it too, but something about the whole setup felt off.

I walked in a little further, and our eyes met for just a second before he quickly turned his attention to something else. He was good at pretending like he didn’t care, like nothing was at stake, but I could see through that. I always could.

The small talk was kept to a minimum as I took a seat, my focus on the task at hand. The interview.

But, as usual, the silence between us was loud. I could almost hear his thoughts, even without him saying a word.

It was almost like he was waiting for me to break the ice.

And that was when I realized it wasn’t just the interview that had me so wound up. It was the reality of seeing him again. The way everything had changed between us. The way I wasn’t sure if I could keep pretending that everything was fine when deep down, I felt like I was drowning.

“So,” I started, breaking the silence, my voice coming out a little more clipped than I intended, “You’re ready to talk?”

He gave a small nod, but the words were slow to come. Ony was playing the part, the cool, untouchable rapper everyone thought he was, but there was something else behind his eyes. Maybe it was the way he looked at me—like there was something he was holding back.

But that’s how Ony was. He always had a way of being distant when it suited him.

His voice was low, almost like he was testing the waters. “What’s up, Y/N? You good?”

I tilted my head slightly. There it was again—the way he said my name. It wasn’t how people usually said it. There was something personal about the way he said it, like we shared a history that couldn’t be erased. I was trying not to let it get to me, but the fact that he wasn’t all up in my face trying to be charming told me everything I needed to know.

“I’m good,” I said flatly. “Let’s get this over with.”

He leaned back, his gaze momentarily flicking toward the door as if he was looking for something or someone.

The crew was setting up for the interview, but it felt like it was just the two of us.

There was something heavy in the air, something unspoken hanging between us.

I wasn’t going to be the one to break it. Not this time.

Then, just like that, the camera crew moved into position, and the whole room shifted.

The vibe had changed. This wasn’t just a studio session. This wasn’t just about making music. This was something else, something personal. Something that only Ony and I understood, whether we were ready to admit it or not.

And as we began, I couldn’t shake the feeling that we weren’t going to leave this room without finally confronting whatever it was we were both trying to avoid.

Ony’s POV 

I could feel Y/N’s eyes on me the whole time as she asked question after question, digging into me like she had a point to prove. Normally, I’d be playing it cool, giving the standard answers, but today was different. Something about the way she was looking at me—like she wasn’t just another interviewer trying to get a story, but like she actually cared about the answers.

Hard-hitting questions.

She didn’t stop. I answered every one with the confidence I was known for, but every now and then, I could feel her picking at me, just enough to make me uncomfortable. Like she wanted to see if she could break through my armor.

And then it happened—the track. What These Bitches Want.

She leaned forward, her expression sharp. I could see that familiar curiosity in her eyes. She wasn’t letting up. "So," she started, "this track. You know Twitter leaked a whole thread listing the names of the girls you mentioned in your song. Brenda, Latisha, Linda, Felicia, all of them. How do you feel about the fact that people are connecting those names to your past?"

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I knew what she was talking about. The song, the names, the whole thing—it was messy. The media loved this type of chaos. But I wasn’t about to let her see how much it got to me.

I took a long drag from the blunt in my hand, blowing out the smoke slowly as I thought about my response. She wasn’t pulling any punches. I wasn’t gonna pull any either.

"Man," I started, leaning back in the chair, making sure to keep my tone steady, "it is what it is. People gonna talk. They gon' speculate. That's the game, right?" I paused for a second, meeting her eyes directly, trying to read her. "But that track is what it is. I named names 'cause that’s real life. People always wanna know about the past, and I gave 'em a piece of it. Doesn’t mean it’s all fact though."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, not satisfied with the answer, but she moved on—for now.

"Okay," she said, tapping her pen on the notepad in her lap. "But the whole thread… the whole list of names—people are saying you’re just throwing around names of women like it’s nothing. That you’re just calling them out for clout. What’s your response to that?"

Her voice was steady, no judgment, but I could tell she was trying to gauge my reaction. I could feel the pressure building, but I wasn’t about to let her see me sweat. This was the game, after all.

"Look, I’m not the first person to talk about women in my songs," I said with a smirk, "and I sure as hell won’t be the last. But don’t get it twisted. This ain’t about clout, it’s about experiences. I don’t talk about what I don’t know. These women, they all had a part in my life. That’s what the song’s about—my story."

Y/N nodded, but there was still something in her eyes that told me she wasn’t done.

She scribbled something down, glanced at me, and asked, "But there’s a difference between putting your experiences in a song and, I don't know… dragging people into it, right? Especially when you’re talking about real-life people. Some of them probably didn’t sign up for that. Did you think about that when you dropped it?"

I felt my jaw tighten. I knew this was where she was going, and I was prepared for it, but it didn’t make it any easier.

"Yeah, I thought about it," I said slowly, exhaling through my nose. "But I didn’t make that track for anyone but me. I made it for the people who understand. If someone takes offense, that’s on them. I’m not here to play it safe. I’m just being real."

I could see her processing what I said, but before she could ask another question, she leaned back, clearly considering her words carefully.

I knew what was coming next, and I wasn’t ready for it.

"So," she started, her voice low but firm, "let’s get into the real question that’s been on everyone’s mind. What about you and Y/N?"

My heart stopped, and I felt the temperature in the room rise.

I didn’t know how she’d gotten to that, but she wasn’t wasting any time getting to the heart of it. I cleared my throat, trying to maintain my composure. "What about us?"

"You know exactly what I mean," she said, her eyes narrowing slightly. "You and me. The song, the history. You think people don’t see the way you’re acting now? How you’re dodging the questions and trying to brush off the past like it didn’t happen? You know, people online are saying you and I linked back in the day. They’re even saying there’s a picture of us together from way back when. You gonna own up to that?"

The room went still.

I hadn’t expected her to bring it up, not in front of everyone, not like this. But here we were.

"Man, it’s been years," I muttered, feeling a little uneasy under her gaze. "I don’t know what people are talking about. I’m just here to talk about music. Whatever happened in the past is the past. You know that."

But even as I said it, I couldn’t shake the feeling that she was looking at me like she knew exactly what I meant. Like she was waiting for me to admit something I didn’t want to face.

She didn’t say anything right away. Instead, she stared at me for a moment, almost as if she was trying to decide whether or not she should push me further.

Eventually, she scribbled a few more notes down and then dropped the pen. "Alright, Ony. Let’s talk about something else."

The tension was still thick, but she let it go. For now.

But I knew that look in her eyes. She wasn’t done with me. Not by a long shot.

The interview was in full swing, and I’d answered every question she threw at me without hesitation. Y/N was on her game, asking questions that weren’t just surface level—she was diving deep, forcing me to actually think about my answers instead of just coasting through.

I’d seen her work before, knew she was good at what she did, but it hit different when she was asking me the questions. This was no fluff piece; this was an interview that was going to have people talking.

But now, we were switching gears. Y/N pulled out her phone, scrolling through Instagram and Twitter.

“Alright,” she said, her tone more playful now as she looked up at me. “We’ve got some questions from your fans. And trust me, they’re asking.”

I raised an eyebrow, trying to play it cool, but I could feel the tension in my shoulders. Fans were wild. They never held back. I could already tell this was going to be a ride.

Y/N looked down at her phone and cleared her throat. "Okay, first question. ‘Ony, is it true that you never take a day off from the studio? How do you stay so consistent with your work ethic?’"

I leaned back in my chair, exhaling the smoke slowly. That one was easy. "Yeah, I’m always in the studio. My work’s my life. If I’m not recording, I’m writing, or I’m thinking of new ways to keep my sound fresh. I don’t believe in ‘taking it easy.’ My fans deserve the best, and I don’t want to drop anything less than that."

Y/N nodded, scribbling a note. “Alright, next question. ‘Who’s your biggest inspiration in the game right now?’”

I chuckled, taking another hit from the blunt before answering. "Man, I gotta say... Jay-Z. He’s been doing it for so long and always finds a way to stay relevant. I respect that. But there are others too—DMX, Pac, Ye... there’s a lot of influence in my sound.”

Y/N shot me a knowing glance. "I’m guessing you’ve had your fair share of ‘DMX moments’ in the studio?"

I smirked, nodding. "You could say that. Gotta channel the energy when it’s time. Sometimes you gotta get loud to make the impact."

Y/N tapped her phone again, smirking a little herself. “Alright, here’s a good one. ‘Ony, when are you finally gonna drop someR&B tracks? We know you have it in you.’”

That one made me laugh. "Man, they always want me to switch it up," I said, leaning in with a grin. "But who knows? I might just surprise you all. I love the vibe, and I definitely have some R&B in the stash, but when I’m ready to drop it, you’ll know."

She raised an eyebrow at me. "That’s a little bit of a tease, don’t you think?"

I shrugged. “Gotta keep ‘em guessing.”

Y/N’s eyes flicked to her phone again, and I could tell she was scanning through more questions. Her next one made my chest tighten a bit, though I couldn’t show it.

“Okay,” she said, looking up with a smirk. "This one is a bit personal. ‘What happened with you and the girl in your song What These Bitches Want? There’s a whole thread online about it. Who are all those names?”

I didn’t flinch, but damn… I wasn’t ready for this one.

"Man," I started, keeping my voice steady, "y’all always diggin’ into the personal stuff, huh? But look, the track is what it is. I’m not gonna act like I didn’t have some wild situations. But those names? That’s just part of my story. You get into the game, you meet people, you have experiences. Some people want to make it about drama, but for me, it’s just part of the process."

Y/N gave me a nod, but I could see the curiosity in her eyes. She wasn’t fully buying it. But I wasn’t about to dive any deeper into it.

She quickly moved on, and I was almost relieved.

“Alright, next question,” she continued. “This one’s a little different. ‘Who’s the one person you’d love to collaborate with in the future?’”

This one was easier. "Easy—Kendrick Lamar. The man’s a genius. His bars? His concepts? I’d love to work with him. That would be a whole vibe."

Y/N smiled slightly, clearly impressed by the answer. "I’d love to hear that. Alright, last question before we wrap this up. Fans are asking, ‘Is there any truth to the rumors about you and Y/N? People keep saying y’all are more than just friends.’”

I froze. The room seemed to go quiet for a second. Y/N didn’t make a move, just waiting for me to answer.

This question... I knew it was coming, but it still felt like the floor had dropped out from under me.

I kept my face neutral, though. No signs of cracking.

"Man," I said slowly, leaning back again, trying to keep it light, "I don’t know where these rumors come from. Y/N and I, we go way back. But we’re cool. That’s all there is to it."

Y/N glanced at me with a hint of something I couldn’t quite read. Then, she made a little noise in her throat and tapped her phone.

"Alright, well, there you have it," she said, looking up at me with a smile. "Thanks for answering the questions. You’ve definitely given people something to talk about, that’s for sure."

I nodded, but the tension between us was still there, hanging in the air. The interview had been real, but something told me this wasn’t the last time we were going to talk about that one question.

The interview was finally over. My mind was still running on the questions, especially that last one. I dodged it well, kept it cool. But that tension? It wasn’t going anywhere.

Connie walked up to me with a sly grin on his face. “You didn’t choke,” he said, throwing a quick glance at Y/N as she packed up her things. “So, I guess you win. You’re welcome, by the way. Told you I’d put you on blast if you messed up.”

I smirked, taking the jab in stride. "Yeah, yeah. You like to talk big, but I knew I had it in the bag."

Connie laughed, patting me on the shoulder before stepping back to give me some space. His eyes shifted to Y/N as she continued packing up, and I could tell he was trying to figure out if she was gonna stick around or just bounce. But me? I wasn’t ready to let her leave just yet.

I walked over to where she was, the sound of my footsteps light but deliberate. She didn’t look up at first, too focused on packing her gear into her bag, but I wasn’t about to let that stop me.

“You good?” I asked, standing a few feet away from her, my voice casual but with a hint of concern. “I ain’t seen you in years.”

Y/N finally looked up at me, her eyes sharp and a little guarded. She didn’t answer right away, just studied me for a second like she was trying to read me.

“Yeah, I’m good,” she said, her tone neutral. But something in her eyes told me it wasn’t that simple.

I chuckled softly, leaning against the table beside her. “I wasn’t sure how today was gonna go, but I can tell you ain’t a fan of me still being on my bullshit.”

She raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying my attempt at lightheartedness. “You never stop, do you?”

I shrugged. “What can I say? It’s a part of the game.”

She was quiet for a moment, her hands still moving as she packed up her stuff. The air between us felt heavier now, like we were finally back in a space where things weren’t as simple as they once were. I could feel the past hanging around us, but neither of us were ready to confront it—not yet.

“Look, I’m not here to dig into anything you don’t want to talk about,” she said, her voice soft but firm. “But I’ll be real with you, Ony... you didn’t change. At all.”

I let out a long breath, trying to figure out how to respond. She wasn’t wrong. I hadn’t changed much, but that was the truth, wasn’t it? The streets don’t let you change unless you let them. And I hadn’t let anything in.

“I never said I had to,” I replied, my gaze steady on her. “I’m me. Always have been.”

Y/N didn’t say anything to that. She just packed up the last of her things, zipped up her bag, and stood up to face me. She looked tired, like she was ready to get out of here, and I couldn’t blame her. She had enough on her plate without me adding more to it.

“You still owe me an answer,” she said, suddenly looking me dead in the eyes.

I felt my chest tighten. I knew what she was talking about. The questions I’d avoided today—the ones about her. I hadn’t answered them, and I wasn’t sure if I ever would.

“I’ll answer when I’m ready,” I said, my tone quieter than usual, the playfulness slipping away for a moment.

She seemed to understand, but the silence between us was a heavy one. Y/N gave a small nod, like she wasn’t expecting anything else from me.

“Maybe I’ll see you around, Ony,” she said, her voice soft but final.

And just like that, she turned, heading for the door. I stood there, frozen for a moment, watching her leave, wondering if this was just another goodbye.

I watched Y/N walk toward the door, the sound of her footsteps cutting through the tension that had settled in the room. Every part of me knew I should stop her, say something, anything, before she slipped out again, but... I didn’t move.

Connie, standing off to the side, must've seen the same thing. He stepped closer, his smirk still in place, but the edge in his voice made me snap out of my thoughts.

“You better go stop her and talk your shit, bitch ass,” he teased, shaking his head with that shit-eating grin of his.

I glared at him, but the words stung in a way I wasn’t expecting. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to go after her. It was just... complicated. But damn if Connie wasn’t right. I couldn’t just let her leave again, not like this.

I ran a hand through my hair, the tension gnawing at me. Fuck it.

Before I could second-guess myself, I turned and bolted after her. My heart was beating in my chest, and my mind was racing, trying to figure out what I was even going to say to her.

I caught up to her just as she reached the door, her hand already on the handle.

“Y/N,” I said, my voice a little rougher than I wanted it to be. She paused, but didn’t turn around. I could feel the heat of the moment in the air, the weight of everything left unsaid between us.

She finally turned around slowly, a neutral expression on her face, but I could see the flicker of something in her eyes. Maybe she was as tired as I was of playing this game.

“Look, I didn’t mean to—” I started, but she cut me off, her voice calm, yet firm.

“No, you didn’t mean to. That’s always your excuse, right?” She stepped closer to me, crossing her arms over her chest. "You never mean to hurt anyone, but you still do."

Her words hit hard, and I couldn’t lie—she wasn’t wrong. I’d been running from things, from her, for too long. But the truth was, I didn’t know how to fix it.

I took a deep breath, trying to keep my voice steady. “I never wanted to hurt you, Y/N. You know that.”

She stared at me for a long moment, her eyes searching mine, and for the first time in years, I felt like she saw right through me.

“I don’t know what to believe anymore, Ony,” she said softly. “You keep saying things like that, but your actions... they don’t match up.”

I swallowed hard. There it was—the part I’d been avoiding, the truth I’d been running from. But it was too late to back down now.

“I’m not asking for you to forgive me,” I said, my voice low, but sincere. “I just... I want you to know that I never meant to hurt you. You were never just some girl to me.”

The words were coming out faster than I could control them, but it felt good to finally say them. To finally let her know what I should’ve said a long time ago.

She didn’t respond immediately, just stood there looking at me, her expression unreadable. Then, slowly, she spoke again.

“You always say that, but you never show it. You let me walk away the first time, Ony. And I don’t know if I can trust you not to do it again.”

Her words stung, but I deserved it. I had let her go once before, and I wasn’t sure if I could make it right now.

“I won’t let you walk away again,” I said, my voice steady despite the weight of the situation.

She met my gaze for a long moment, then finally sighed and shook her head. “I don’t know, Ony. I really don’t know.”

Before I could respond, she reached for the door handle again. But this time, I wasn’t letting her walk out without saying something real.

“Wait,” I said, grabbing her arm gently. “Can we just—can we talk, maybe? Not here, not now, but... soon. Let me show you that I’m not the same person I was back then.”

She looked down at my hand on her arm and then up at me, searching my eyes. It felt like the world was holding its breath, waiting for her response.

Finally, she nodded, her voice quieter this time. “I’ll think about it, Ony. But I’m not promising anything.”

And with that, she stepped out of the door, leaving me standing there, wondering if this time would be different.

Of course, the internet never missed anything.

Barely an hour after Y/N left, the pictures started flooding Tumblr, Twitter/X, and Instagram. Some fanpage must’ve been lurking outside the studio because they caught everything—me standing close to her, grabbing her arm, the tension in our expressions. One shot even had me looking dead into her eyes, my grip firm but careful.

The captions were out of pocket as usual.

🗣 "Lovers' spat? 👀 Ony caught in a HEATED moment with journalist Y/N L/N right after their interview. What y’all think they were talking about???"

"Not y’all telling me to scroll Ony’s IG—THEM OLD PICS OF HIM AND Y/N BEEN RIGHT THERE. 👀👀👀"

"Y’all remember when we used to joke that Ony had a ‘one that got away’?? 👀 Well… she might be BACK."

"Ony grabbing her arm like ‘you not finna leave me again’ oh we are so BACK."

"Y/N’s face in the last pic… girl, what did he SAY to you? 👀"

And then, of course, the edits started. Somebody already put that last pic in black and white with a The weeknd lyric slapped on top.

“You always try to hide the pain

You always know just what to say

I always look the other way”

Even worse, some messy fan pages started throwing old receipts into the mix. One post had a side-by-side comparison:

Left side: An old-ass photo of me and Y/N from way back, sitting on a couch together, me leaning back comfortably as hell, Y/N next to me laughing.

Right side: The newest pic outside the studio, me grabbing her arm while she stared at me like she wasn’t sure whether to slap me or listen.

"A full-circle moment. This is crazy."

The comments were going crazy.

"Not them having HISTORY???" "Y/N stay quiet, girl, they gonna have you in a YouTube deep dive in the morning." "Connie needs to speak up 😭 wasn’t he just saying Y/N wasn’t ‘like that’ with Ony?? LIED."

And, as expected, one of the tea pages said:

"I’m adding this to my deep dive IMMEDIATELY."

I exhaled, dragging a hand down my face as I scrolled through the mess.

"Man… fuck."

I already knew what was coming.

Y/N was gonna hate this.

Mikasa looked exhausted. I already knew she had her work cut out for her this week, but this shit was on another level.

First, she had to deal with the women who got exposed in my track—some of them lying on my name, trying to spin the narrative that I did them dirty, like they didn’t know the deal from jump. I had to spend the last few days dropping receipts and setting the record straight before people started painting me like some actual villain.

Then, there was the whole Y/N situation.

That interview might’ve wrapped up, but the internet? They weren’t letting it go.

Y/N gained 200K followers on IG overnight.

Overnight.

Her posts were flooded with comments—thirsty-ass dudes, tea pages, fan theories, and edits. The messy blogs had a field day, calling her my “mystery girl” and digging through her old posts like the FBI.

And then, of course, the real icing on the cake?

She still had old pictures of us on her page.

Not a lot. Just a few scattered among other posts—some of her and Connie back in middle and high school, and a couple that had me in them too. Not enough to be obvious, but enough for people to put two and two together.

And Y/N? She was cussing Connie out as we speak.

I could hear her going off through the phone, her voice muffled but still heated as hell while Connie held it up to his ear.

"Constance, I SWEAR TO GOD, I am gonna block your bald-headed ass—"

Connie just laughed. “Aight, aight, damn, chill! What I do now?”

“DON’T ‘WHAT I DO NOW’ ME—YOU LET ME WALK INTO THAT INTERVIEW BLIND, KNOWING DAMN WELL THEY WAS GONNA START SOME SHIT—”

I shook my head, tuning them out as I focused back on Mikasa.

She rubbed her temples, staring at her phone like she wanted to throw it. "I swear to God, if one more blog calls me about setting up a joint interview between you two—"

I raised a brow. "A joint interview?"

"Yes, dumbass. Because the internet now thinks y’all got some tragic love story and they wanna milk the hell out of it."

I scoffed. "That’s crazy."

Mikasa shot me a look. "Is it?"

I didn’t say shit.

Because the way she was staring, I knew she wasn’t just talking about the internet.

Connie, being the pest he always was, had his phone on speaker so Y/N’s rant was on full display for the entire studio.

And of course, he was eating it up.

“Aight, aight, damn, Ma. How about this—I’ll take you to Rodeo and let you pick out whatever you want. My treat.”

There was a slight pause on the other end. Then Y/N deadpanned, “You ain’t no Bryson Tiller, Constance. Fuck off.”

I let out a low chuckle, shaking my head. That shit was funny, I couldn’t lie.

Connie grinned, “Nah, but for real though—"

"Constance. I will block you.”

Connie gasped dramatically. “That’s crazy, forreal. After everything we been through?"

Y/N scoffed. "Shut up, I’m hanging up."

Then click. She was gone.

Connie stared at his phone for a second, then turned to me with a smug grin. “She’s so mad right now.”

I exhaled, flicking the ash off my blunt. "Yeah, and whose fault is that?"

Connie just shrugged, like he wasn’t the main reason Y/N’s name was trending right now.

Mikasa muttered under her breath, “I hate all of you.”

I laughed. “Nah, you love us.”

She rolled her eyes, and I took another slow pull from my blunt, letting the smoke curl in the air.

Because as much as I wanted to act like this whole thing wasn’t that deep, there was one thing I couldn’t shake.

She still had old pictures of us on her page.

And if she really wanted to forget me?

She would’ve deleted them a long time ago.

I shrugged, flicking the ash off my blunt before taking another slow drag. "Fine. I’ll just pull up on her."

Connie let out a loud, amused snort, shaking his head as he scrolled through his phone. "You really think she gon’ just let you slide back into her life like that? She ain't living at her old address no more, big bro. You outta luck."

I exhaled the smoke, watching it curl into the air before I glanced over at him with a smirk. "Yeah? But her mama gon’ tell me, ‘cause her and my moms still locked in."

Connie’s smirk faltered just a little, eyes squinting at me like he was trying to figure out how serious I was. "Man, you playin’ dirty."

I took another pull and exhaled slow, letting the silence drag between us before I spoke again. "Nah," I muttered, voice low, "I’m just playing smart."

Connie let out a laugh, shaking his head. "Ain’t no way, bro. You really about to spin the block?"

I gave him a look. "You act like you don’t know me."

"Nah, I do. That’s why I know this shit gon’ be messy," Connie said, stretching his arms over his head before tossing his phone onto the couch. "She gon’ make you work for it, though. You know that, right?"

I flicked the blunt in the ashtray, leaning back. "Good."

Connie raised a brow. "Good?"

I nodded once, a slow smirk creeping onto my face. "Yeah. ‘Cause that means she still care."

I sighed, rubbing my temples as the phone rang. I already knew what was coming.

The second my mom picked up, I didn’t even get a chance to say hello before she was on my ass.

"Onyankopon Carter, what the hell is this nonsense I’m hearing about you?"

I pulled the phone away from my ear for a second because—damn—she was yelling. I could hear my little sister cackling in the background, probably the reason this whole thing reached my mom in the first place.

"Ma, chill—"

"Don’t tell me to chill, boy!" she snapped. "You got girls all over the internet lying on your name, then I hear Y/N is back in the picture, and you out here flirting with any and every woman on that damn Instagram Live! Do you know how embarrassing that is? Your little sister had to explain all this to me! You know how dumb I looked tryna keep up?"

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "She should’ve minded her damn business."

"Excuse me?" My mom’s voice dropped an octave, and I immediately realized I fucked up.

"Nothing, nothing," I muttered quickly. "Look, Ma, it ain’t even like that. People just talking."

"Oh, so the pictures of you and Y/N arguing outside the studio was fake?"

I clenched my jaw. "We weren’t arguing."

"Oh? ‘Cause it sure looked like y’all were arguing. And from what I hear, Y/N been blowing up since all this mess started. Two hundred thousand followers in one night?"

I ran a hand down my face. "Yeah, I know."

"Mmhmm. And you still think this is ‘just people talking’?"

I didn’t have an answer for that.

She sighed, then her voice softened just a little. "Ony, baby, what are you doing?"

I swallowed, shifting in my seat. "I don’t know."

She clicked her tongue. "Mmm. You do, but you don’t wanna say it out loud yet."

I exhaled, tapping my fingers against my thigh. "Ma, I ain’t call for all this."

"Then why did you call?"

I hesitated, then finally said, "I need Y/N’s number."

Silence.

Then my mom laughed. "Ohhh, so now you need her number? Boy, I told you to stop playing and go get your girl back, but nooo, you wanted to be hard headed!"

I rolled my eyes. "Ma, c’mon."

"Mmm. Nah. You fumbled, you figure it out."

"Ma—"

"Bye, Ony."

The call ended.

I stared at my screen for a second before letting out a low groan.

"Fuck."

The second I put my phone down, I heard it—Connie howling like a damn hyena.

I looked up just in time to see him collapse onto the studio couch, clutching his stomach like this was the funniest shit he ever witnessed in his life.

"NAH, SON—" Connie wheezed between laughter, "YO MAMA COOKED YOU! SHE REALLY HUNG UP ON YOU, BRUH!"

Eren, who had been watching the whole thing, finally cracked and started laughing too, shaking his head. "Damn, that’s crazy."

"‘MA, I NEED Y/N’S NUMBER’—" Connie mocked, clutching his chest. "AND SHE HIT YOU WITH THE ‘BYE, ONY’ LIKE YOU WAS A DAMN TELEMARKETER!"

Eren started laughing even harder. "Telemarketer is wild."

I sat there, gripping my phone so I wouldn’t throw it at Connie’s dumbass head. "Y’all done?"

"Oh, hell no!" Connie wiped a fake tear from his eye. "‘You fumbled, you figure it out’—that’s what your own mama said? Bro, you down bad!"

I sucked my teeth and reached for the blunt on the table. "Fuck both of y’all."

Eren exhaled a laugh, shaking his head while scrolling on his phone. "Damn, even your own moms ain’t on your side."

Connie wiped his nose dramatically. "A tragic sight, really." Then, like he just remembered something, his face lit up. "Oh shit, wait—don’t worry, bro. I’ll text Y/N for you."

I squinted at him. "You gonna send me her number?"

Connie smirked. "Hell no."

I threw a pillow at him. "Dickhead."

He dodged, still grinning. "You gotta work for that, champ."

Eren shook his head, mumbling, "This is about to be some bullshit."

I was about to cuss Connie out again when my phone buzzed in my hand.

Incoming Airdrop: Contact – Y/N L/N

I squinted, looking around. Who the hell—

Then I caught Eren out of the corner of my eye, leaning back in his chair, scrolling through his phone like he wasn’t up to something.

I accepted the Airdrop, and right after, a text came in.

Eren: Cause I know you're solid now.

I glanced up at him, and Eren didn’t even look my way—just exhaled like he wasn’t being messy as hell.

Connie, of course, noticed something was up. He sat forward, eyes narrowed. "Wait… what just happened?"

I pocketed my phone and stood up. "None of your business."

Connie’s eyes widened. "Ayo, nah—E, did you—?"

Eren kept scrolling, smirking. "I ain’t do nothing."

"Lying ass." Connie pointed at me. "And you—don’t be weird with it. Matter fact, gimme your phone—"

I shoved his hand away. "Go play in traffic, nigga."

Connie groaned dramatically, throwing himself back on the couch. "I swear, y’all gon' make me start leaking shit for fun."

I ignored him, unlocking my phone and staring at Y/N’s number.

I had it now.

Now, I just had to figure out what the hell I was gonna say.

I barely had time to react before Connie snatched my phone clean out my hand.

“Before you do some dumb shit,” he said, holding it out of reach, “Imma talk to you as her best friend.”

I was about to cuss him out, but before I could, SMACK!

That nigga slapped me upside my head hard as hell.

“What the fuck, nigga?!” I snapped, rubbing the spot.

Connie shrugged, unbothered. “I owed you that for years.”

Eren let out a low whistle, rocking in his chair. “Damn. You was due for that, lowkey.”

I turned to him. “You supposed to be neutral!”

Eren lifted his hands. “I am neutral. I’m just saying—”

“Shut up.”

Meanwhile, Connie was scrolling through my messages like he paid my phone bill.

“First off, you better not text her on some ‘WYD’ bullshit. I’ll beat your ass myself.”

I scoffed. “Nigga, I ain’t that dumb—”

“Mmm.” Connie didn’t look convinced. “Secondly, you better really think about what you say, cause Y/N? She got a list of grievances longer than the Bible.”

I sighed, rolling my shoulders. “You think I don’t know that?”

Connie looked up at me for a long moment. Then, unexpectedly, his usual teasing expression dropped.

“Nah, but do you really know that, though?”

I clenched my jaw, staying quiet.

Connie nodded like he already knew my answer. “You let her go like she ain’t mean nothing, O.”

My grip tightened into fists.

“She meant something,” I muttered. “She meant everything.”

Connie exhaled through his nose, shaking his head.

“Then fix it.”

I held out my hand. “Gimme my phone.”

Connie hesitated. Then, slowly, he handed it back.

I unlocked the screen.

And I stared at her name.

…What the hell was I supposed to say?

I dropped onto the couch, my head spinning a bit from the chaos of the day. The studio session, the teasing, the live—everything was a blur. And now here I was, home alone, staring at my phone. The screen lit up in the dimly lit living room, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

Connie’s words kept echoing in my head: “You better go stop her and talk your shit, bitch ass.”

I rolled my eyes at the thought. That damn man was relentless. But he was right in one thing. I needed to talk to Y/N.

I hadn’t seen her in years, and the shit that went down between us wasn’t something I could just let slide. It wasn’t just the rumors, the flirty IG live, or even the way things ended between us. It was everything—the old feelings, the tension, the shit I never told her.

My fingers hovered over the screen as I opened my messages. I stared at the blank text box for a moment. Part of me wanted to just delete the whole damn thing, forget about it all. But another part of me... I don’t know, another part was tired of pretending.

I finally typed:

“Hey, it’s me. Ony.”

I stared at it for a few seconds, my thumb hovering over the send button. What if she didn't respond? What if she was pissed off? What if this whole thing blew up even worse than before?

I couldn’t take it back now.

With a deep sigh, I hit send. My phone buzzed in my hand, and I swear I felt my heart skip a beat. What the hell was I doing?

Who the fuck is this?

I stared at the message for a second, my face scrunching up in disbelief. "I know u saw I sent my name." I read it again, hoping it would somehow make more sense.

She wasn’t playing games.

My fingers hovered over the phone, debating on how to respond. She didn’t really expect me to just walk away, did she? I wasn’t the type to back down, and damn sure wasn’t going to let some damn text throw me off.

I typed back quickly, determined:

"C'mon Y/N, it's me. Ony. Don’t act like you don’t remember."

I hit send, trying to ignore the creeping doubt. If she wasn’t playing games before, she was now.

A couple of seconds passed, then the message pinged. I stared at it for a second before opening it, heart pounding.

Her reply came through fast:

“I don’t know who that fuck nigga is.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, even though it stung a little. Damn. She was good. But that didn’t scare me. It only made me more sure about reaching out. If I was gonna fix things—or at least get some answers—I had to play it cool.

I quickly fired back:

“Ain’t no need for all that. I’m just tryna talk to you. We need to clear the air, Y/N.”

I didn’t know where this was going. Didn’t know how she was going to react. But I couldn’t let her keep shutting me out. I wasn’t gonna play her game... but I was damn sure gonna make sure she knew I wasn’t backing down.

I stared at the screen for a moment, my thumb hovering over the keyboard. She dropped her location and bluntly said, "I ain’t doing this via text."

I couldn’t help the grin that crept up on my face. She was still as stubborn as ever. I’d been waiting for her to hit me with something like that, and honestly, I respected it. It wasn’t gonna be easy getting through her walls, but if I had to show up and prove I was serious, then so be it.

I typed back quickly, keeping it simple:

“Alright, I’m on my way.”

There was no backing out now. This was it. I knew I had to face whatever came next—whatever anger or hurt or whatever else she had built up from all these years. And damn, I was ready for it.

I put my phone down and grabbed my jacket, the weight of everything starting to settle in my chest. She wasn’t just going to forgive me; I knew that. But this—this was the first step in trying to make things right. If she even let me get that close.

As I left the studio, the night air hit me, cool and biting, and I knew I wasn’t gonna walk into this unscathed. I just hoped she could see I was trying.

I pulled up about an hour later, my heart pounding a little faster with each step toward her door. When she opened it, I had to take a second to process just how damn good she looked standing there. The sun had long set, but she had this glow to her, like she’d been waiting for something... or someone.

Fuck, I almost forgot how well she filled out a pair of shorts. I couldn’t help but let my eyes trail down her figure, and I caught myself before I did something stupid.

“Burnt orange is still your color,” I said, voice a little rougher than I meant it to be. The words felt natural, like I had said them a thousand times before, and I honestly didn’t realize how much I missed just being around her until that moment.

I almost reached out to grab her ass instinctively—old habits die hard—but I pulled my hand back before it even made it halfway. I could feel the tension between us, the space that used to be so familiar now felt like a void, one I wasn’t sure I could bridge with just a few words.

Instead, I raised my hand higher, offering her a hug. The moment stretched, and I couldn’t tell if she was going to step forward or shut the door in my face.

She stood there, staring at me for a beat too long, like she was making some kind of decision. But, finally, she stepped in close, arms still crossed over her chest. She smelled like whatever soap she used, and for a second, I let myself breathe it in—something familiar, something I’d almost forgotten about.

“You here to talk, or you just wanna stand there, looking all lost?” she said, her voice clipped, but there was a softness to it that made my chest tighten.

“I’m here to talk,” I replied, my voice steady, but my hands felt like they were trembling with nerves I hadn't expected.

She stepped back, finally letting me in. As I crossed the threshold, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was a bad idea... but then again, I’d never really been good at listening to my own advice.

Now, it was all up to me to see where this would go.

As soon as I stepped inside, the door clicked shut behind me, and I immediately felt the weight of everything we hadn’t said hanging in the air.

Y/N didn’t waste time. The moment I was in the door, she hit me with that sharp gaze, eyes full of frustration, like she’d been rehearsing what she wanted to say for days.

“So, what? You just show up now?” she snapped, her tone colder than I expected. “After all the shit you’ve pulled, now you want to have a conversation? You think you can just walk back into my life like nothing happened?”

Her words hit like a punch to the gut. I knew what she was saying was right. I knew I had fucked up. But damn, hearing it out loud from her stung in a way I hadn’t prepared for.

I ran a hand through my hair, trying to find the words, but the truth was, there were no easy answers. “I didn’t plan for this. I didn’t plan for... any of this,” I said, voice strained. “I was out of my mind. I fucked up, alright? But I’m here now, trying to fix it. Trying to do better.”

“Fix it?” She scoffed, crossing her arms tightly over her chest, her eyes narrowing. “You think showing up here makes up for the fact that you disappeared on me without a word? That you let me go like I was some kind of afterthought?”

She was pacing now, her words coming faster, sharper. I could tell she wasn’t even looking for an apology anymore—she was just mad, and rightfully so.

“I put up with your bullshit for too long, Ony. I believed you, trusted you, and you... you just turned your back on me like I didn’t matter.”

Her words were like daggers, each one a reminder of how badly I fucked up. The anger, the hurt—it was all pouring out of her in waves.

I couldn’t help it—I took a step forward, trying to meet her gaze. “I didn’t want to let you go. I never wanted that,” I said, voice a little quieter now. “I was just... scared. I didn’t know how to handle what I was feeling. So I pushed you away. And I fucked up.”

She stopped pacing, standing still for a moment, staring at me like she was trying to figure out if I was being real or if I was just giving her the same old song and dance. The silence stretched between us, heavy, before she finally spoke again.

“You really think you can fix this just by showing up and saying you fucked up? You’re out of your mind, Ony.”

I could feel the heat in my chest rise, frustration boiling over. “I’m not asking you to forgive me overnight, but damn, can I at least try?”

“You think trying is enough? After everything you’ve put me through?” She shook her head, letting out a bitter laugh. “Connie was right. You have a lot of nerve, showing up now and expecting me to just forget about all the shit you did. You don’t get to just waltz back in and act like you didn’t break me.”

Her words were like a punch to the gut, and I could see the hurt in her eyes. The walls she built around herself—the ones I helped put up—were so high now that I didn’t know how to get past them.

But I wasn’t backing down. Not this time.

“I get it. I fucked up. I know I did,” I said, voice steady, though the pain was there, too. “But I’m here now, and I want to make it right. I can’t change the past, but I’m trying to change what happens next. So, tell me what it’s gonna take to show you that I’m serious.”

She stared at me for a long moment, her eyes searching mine like she was looking for something—some sign that I wasn’t just playing her. And maybe I wasn’t. Maybe this time, I was really trying.

But I knew that what I’d done to her, the way I’d walked away without looking back, was unforgivable.

Y/N didn’t say anything for a while, just standing there, the tension in the room thick between us.

And then she finally spoke, her voice low but sharp.

“You want to fix this?” She stepped closer, her gaze unwavering. “Then prove it. You want to talk? Show me you’re not just another sorry ass player who thinks he can come back and fix everything with a few words. Show me that you care.”

Her words hit like a ton of bricks, but for once, I didn’t look away. I was ready to do whatever it took to make this right. Whatever it took to get back to her.

Of course, we spent the next hour or so arguing.

I don’t even know how it escalated so fast, but before I knew it, we were going back and forth, each of us taking turns throwing barbs and accusations like it was a game. It wasn’t, though. It was real, raw, and messy—and deep down, I knew we were both just trying to deal with the aftermath of everything we hadn’t said to each other in years.

“You don’t get it, do you?” Y/N said, her voice strained, hands clenched at her sides. “You think you can just come in here with your ‘I messed up’ routine and that’s supposed to fix everything? You think because you show up with a couple of ‘I’m sorrys,’ it’ll all be okay?”

I rubbed my face, frustrated with myself but more frustrated at how easily she could twist my words. “No. It’s not about the words, Y/N. I’m not asking for forgiveness in one day. But damn, can you at least see that I’m trying?” My voice was rising now, that old fire flaring up in me, a mixture of anger, guilt, and regret.

“Trying?!” she snapped, her laugh bitter. “Trying is the bare minimum. You didn’t even show up for me when I needed you, Ony. You think that after all this time, I’m just supposed to drop everything because you want to try now? You left me hanging, made me feel like I didn’t matter, and now you want me to believe it’s different?”

Each word she threw at me landed harder than the last, but I wasn’t going to back down. “I know I fucked up. I know I can’t just expect you to forget what happened. I’m not asking for that, but I’m here now. And I want to fix things. So what do you want from me? You want me to keep apologizing, or do you actually want me to show you that I’m serious?”

She stepped forward, her eyes narrowing as if weighing my words. “I don’t need your apologies, Ony. I need you to actually show up. To actually be here. To prove you give a damn.”

We both fell silent for a second, the tension thick in the air. Neither of us was backing down, but neither of us knew how to bridge the gap that had opened between us all those years ago.

“Then let me prove it,” I said quietly, the words slipping out before I even had time to think about them. “Let me show you, Y/N. I can’t take back what I did, but I’ll be here now. I’ll be here for you.”

She didn’t respond at first, just standing there with her arms crossed. The anger in her expression hadn’t fully melted away, but I saw something in her eyes—a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t the same guy who’d walked out on her all those years ago.

“You better not be lying to me,” she finally said, her voice low, but there was a vulnerability there now. “Because if you are, I won’t give you a second chance.”

I nodded, meeting her gaze. “I won’t lie to you, Y/N. Not again. I swear.”

She took a deep breath, clearly still processing everything. But there was a shift, a subtle change in the air that told me we were getting somewhere—slowly, but surely.

The tension between us wasn’t gone, but for the first time in a long time, I felt like there was a chance. A real chance.

But damn, if this was going to work, I knew I had a lot of work to do. And I couldn’t afford to mess up again.

“Alright,” she said, still eyeing me like I was a puzzle she couldn’t figure out. “Let’s see if you actually mean what you’re saying. Because I’m not going to make this easy for you.”

I couldn’t help but smirk a little, though it was a strained one. “You wouldn’t want it any other way.”

She rolled her eyes, but I saw the faintest hint of a smile tug at the corner of her lips.

Maybe this wasn’t the end. Maybe, just maybe, this could be the start of something else.

I stood there for a moment, feeling the weight of the words I hadn’t let myself say for years. The silence between us stretched longer than I wanted it to, but when I finally spoke again, it was almost like the floodgates had opened.

“I missed you, Y/N,” I said, my voice quieter this time, more vulnerable than it had been in years. “It’s been years, and no one’s captured my heart like you did. I’m not saying I’ve been waiting around or whatever… but damn, I missed you more than I ever thought I would.”

The words hung between us, heavy and real. I watched her expression shift, the anger and frustration starting to fade just a little. I wasn’t expecting her to fall into my arms or anything—this wasn’t some movie moment. But seeing her soften just a little bit, like she was hearing me for the first time in a long time, made me feel like maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t too late.

She didn’t say anything right away, just took a step back and looked at me, like she was trying to read me. Her gaze softened, but I saw that wall still up, as high as ever.

“You really mean that, huh?” she asked, her voice still sharp, but there was something else in it now—curiosity, maybe. “Because words are one thing, Ony. But actions? Actions speak louder than anything.”

I nodded, taking a deep breath. “I know. I know it’s not enough just to say it. But you’ve gotta believe me, Y/N. I’m here now, for real. And I’m gonna show you—actions, not just words.”

She studied me for a moment longer, then let out a sigh, crossing her arms. “You better be serious this time. Because I won’t keep giving you chances.”

I could feel the tension between us still, but it wasn’t as heavy as before. There was something new there—something that felt like the start of something different. Maybe I couldn’t fix everything in one conversation, but I knew I was done running.

“I’m serious, Y/N. I’ll show you. I won’t mess this up again. Not this time.”

For a brief second, she just looked at me. Then, finally, her lips curved into a small smile—one that didn’t erase the pain, but showed that there was still a flicker of something, even if it was small.

“We’ll see,” she said, her voice quieter now, a little softer. “We’ll see, Ony.”

And for the first time in a long time, I felt like there was hope.

[sherewrytes]

I need to know what kind of relationship Toji and Y/N in Broken Pieces cause some one had to have feelings for the other for them to even have sex TWICE and then what about the KIDSSS. Are they not thinking how this would affect Megumi and Yuji, like think

They met through Sukuna they've been friends since Sukuna and YN have been dating. So they're close. Yn considers him a really close friend. They didn't expect to cross that line, but once they did, it seemed they enjoyed each other a lot

[sherewrytes]

New chapter out

Love and Gunshots, Eren x Black Reader

Gang member Eren x Introvert black reader

Summary: In a dangerous urban landscape, y/n, an introverted Criminal Law student, finds herself drawn into the violent world of the Sixx Gang through her protective cousin, Onyankopon. When she locks eyes with Eren Yeager, a hot-headed gang member, a twisted game of desire and danger begins.

As Eren becomes obsessed with y/n, he threatens to unravel the fragile balance Ony has maintained to shield her from their brutal lifestyle. With loyalty tested and violence lurking at every turn, the lines between love and danger blur, leading to a dark climax where the heart proves just as lethal as a gun.

Genre: Dark Romance/Crime Modern au

Warnings: Graphic violence, drug use, smut, obsession

I’ll re edit this when I’m better, in the mean time happy reading

Taglist: @topshotdivaa @prettypink-princesss @burpzz @niaizzy1623 @jcoleisbetter @msjaeger @hidd3nbimbo

So it can be easier to get all the chapters.

Chapter 1: On da lookout

Chapter 2: Unwelcome Intrusion

Chapter 3: Trapsta

Chapter 4: After Dark

Chapter 5: Lost

Chapter 6: Danger

Chapter 7: Sink or Swim

Chapter 8: Breaking point

Chapter 9: Psychosis

Chapter 10: Is This Love or Am I Trapped?

Chapter 11: When it all falls down

Chapter 12: It aint always what it seems

Chapter 13: (coming soon)

[sherewrytes]

Love and Gunshots, Eren x Black Reader 12

Gang member Eren x Introvert black reader

Summary: In a dangerous urban landscape, y/n, an introverted Criminal Law student, finds herself drawn into the violent world of the Sixx Gang through her protective cousin, Onyankopon. When she locks eyes with Eren Yeager, a hot-headed gang member, a twisted game of desire and danger begins.

As Eren becomes obsessed with y/n, he threatens to unravel the fragile balance Ony has maintained to shield her from their brutal lifestyle. With loyalty tested and violence lurking at every turn, the lines between love and danger blur, leading to a dark climax where the heart proves just as lethal as a gun.

Genre: Dark Romance/Crime Modern au

Warnings: Graphic violence, drug use, smut, obsession

@msjaeger @hidd3nbimbo @vampimilikis @nova2kss @honeydrzzldpeaches @faerie-soirxx @topshotdivaa @prettypink-princesss @burpzz @niaizzy1623 @jcoleisbetter @vampimilikis @defnot-bri @uarmyhopeworldwide @naomiiily @bouquetoftulips6 @lovereren

comment to join taglist

Masterlist

No proofread was done. I will re edit at another time :)

Chapter 12: It aint always what it seems

Mikasa sat back in her seat, arms crossed, waiting for me to talk. I took a deep breath, trying to figure out where to even start.

“So…” I exhaled, running a hand through my hair. “Last night was a mess.”

“No shit,” Mikasa muttered. “Start from the beginning.”

I nodded and started piecing it together for her. “Okay. So, after my mom called my dad, he actually came back—out of nowhere. And while that was happening, Levi and the others showed up at my house. Ony was there too.”

Mikasa’s face twisted in confusion. “Levi? Why the hell was Levi at your house?”

I shook my head. “I don’t even know why they were really there, but it was like… some type of warning? Levi doesn’t play, Mika. I don’t know what Ony got himself into, but it felt like they were checking him.”

Mikasa’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. “And your dad? What did he want?”

I shrugged. “Probably to act like he’s been around this whole time when he hasn’t.”

She exhaled sharply but didn’t interrupt, so I kept going.

“Anyway… after that, I ended up at the base. Their base.”

Mikasa’s head snapped toward me. “Wait. Whose base? Eren’s?”

I hesitated, then nodded.

“YN—what the hell were you doing there?”

I rubbed my temples. “It wasn’t planned! I got caught up in everything, and then next thing I know, I’m there with Ony, Eren, and the rest of them.”

Mikasa’s expression darkened. “Ony and Eren? In the same place? That’s already a disaster waiting to happen.”

I swallowed. “Yeah. It got bad. They were this close to killing each other.” I sighed, shaking my head. “Levi had to shut it down. And let me tell you, that man is crazy. You don’t even wanna know what he did to Ony earlier.”

Mikasa’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

I hesitated, then muttered, “Let’s just say Ony wasn’t exactly in a position to be outside today.”

She sucked in a sharp breath, realizing what I was saying. “Levi did something to him?”

I nodded.

Mikasa cursed under her breath. “And then what?”

I exhaled, the memories of last night flashing through my mind. “Erwin dropped me back home… and then Eren showed up.”

Mikasa was silent for a long moment. I could feel her thinking, piecing it all together before she even spoke.

“...And you slept with him.”

I swallowed hard, nodding.

She let out a long, frustrated breath, pinching the bridge of her nose. “YN, what are you doing?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know, Mika. I really don’t. But…” I hesitated, voice quieter. “I feel like I’m trapped.”

Mikasa’s eyes snapped to mine, sharp and serious. “Then we need to get you out before it’s too late.”

Mikasa shook her head, gripping the steering wheel tighter before turning to me, eyes wide.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait—you did WHAT?” Her voice rose, sharp with disbelief. “Are you going out of your mind, YN?”

I swallowed hard, looking away. I knew this was coming.

“I—Mika, I don’t know,” I muttered, rubbing my temples. “It just… happened.”

“It just happened?” she repeated, her tone dripping with frustration. “YN, this isn’t some random guy from campus. This is Eren—the same Eren who’s been playing mind games with you, the same Eren Ony literally wants to kill, the same Eren who—”

“I know, Mika!” I snapped, my own frustration spilling out. “I know all of that, okay? But that doesn’t change the fact that I—” I swallowed, shaking my head. “That I want him.”

Mikasa let out a harsh breath, leaning back against the seat. “That’s the problem, YN. That’s the trap.”

I stayed quiet. She wasn’t wrong.

She turned fully toward me, her expression serious. “You know what kind of person he is. He doesn’t just want you—he wants to own you.”

I shivered at the truth in her words, remembering the way Eren looked at me, the way he made me feel like I was his before I even realized it myself.

Mikasa sighed, running a hand through her hair. “And you’re falling for it. That’s why I’m asking—what the hell are you doing, YN?”

I bit my lip. “I don’t know, Mika. I really don’t.”

Mikasa looked at me, studying my face, then shook her head. “No. You do know. You just don’t wanna admit it.”

I felt my stomach twist because she was right. Again.

Mikasa stiffened the second she heard the back door open. I turned just in time to see Eren sliding in like he owned the damn car.

“Hi, Mikasa,” he greeted smoothly, leaning back against the seat. “Remember me?”

Mikasa froze, her grip on the steering wheel tightening.

Before she could answer, the other back door swung open, and Armin slid in with a sigh. He barely glanced at Eren before rolling his eyes. “Don’t be a cunt, Eren.”

Eren just laughed. Low and amused, like he was enjoying this. Like he was losing it just a little.

His laughter died down as his eyes cut to me, holding my gaze for just a second before flicking back to Mikasa. “Trying to set her straight, Mika?” His voice was light, teasing—but there was something behind it, something that sent a chill down my spine.

I blinked, looking between them. “Wait—you know each other?”

Armin huffed a dry laugh. “Yeah. From kindergarten all the way to high school.”

I stared. That meant—Eren, Mikasa, and Armin had known each other long before all this street shit. Before Ony. Before Levi. Before everything.

Mikasa finally turned in her seat, her expression sharp as a blade. “What do you want, Eren?”

Eren smirked, but his eyes never left me. “Just checking in.”

Armin turned his whole body to face Eren, his patience clearly wearing thin. "Why are we even here, Eren?" he asked flatly. "You know I got better shit to do."

Eren's smirk didn't even waver. Without a second thought, he pulled a gun, pressing it lightly against Armin’s thigh.

Mikasa tensed. My breath caught.

But Armin? Armin didn’t even flinch.

Instead, with a look of pure annoyance, he slapped the gun right out of Eren's hand. The metal clattered onto the floor of the car.

"Let’s not be dumb right now," Armin said, voice steady, eyes sharp.

The tension in the car turned thick.

Eren stared at Armin for a long moment before shaking his head with a dark chuckle. "You always act like you’re better than me, huh?"

Armin didn’t answer. Didn’t even look fazed.

Mikasa’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. “Eren. Pick up your gun and get out of my car.”

Eren ignored her, tilting his head at me instead. “You’re quiet, YN.” His eyes ran over me, dark and unreadable. “Cat got your tongue?”

Mikasa's grip on the wheel turned white-knuckle tight. Armin exhaled sharply, already fed up. And me? My whole body tensed.

Eren's words slithered through the air, low and taunting. "Maybe I got it when I was fucking you last night."

I felt Mikasa tense beside me. Armin closed his eyes briefly like he was praying for patience.

But Eren wasn’t done.

He leaned back against the seat, stretching his arms across the headrest, looking too damn comfortable. His eyes flicked to me, then to Mikasa.

“Anyway, get out the car, YN,” he said, voice smooth but firm. “I need to talk to Mikasa about something… something important.”

Mikasa scoffed. “Whatever it is, say it in front of everyone.”

Eren smirked, slow and knowing. “Nah. It’s between us.”

I hesitated, eyes darting between them.

Armin cut in, looking Eren dead in the eye. "We both know you don’t need to talk to her. You just want control.”

Eren just laughed, the sound low and amused. “Control?” He leaned forward slightly, gaze still locked on me. “Nah. I just want what’s mine.”

I swallowed hard. My fingers twitched against my lap.

Mikasa turned fully in her seat, eyes narrowed. “YN isn’t yours, Eren.”

Eren didn’t even blink. Didn’t even look at her. He was still looking at me.

“Get out the car,” he said again. A little softer this time. A little more dangerous.

Eren POV

I watched as YN stepped out of the car, her back straight, but I could see the hesitation in her movements. She was still caught up in whatever twisted shit was going on inside her head. I didn’t blame her, though. Things weren’t simple, especially with me around.

I turned my head to Mikasa, who had been quiet since I slid into the car, but I knew she was simmering. I needed her to understand where I was coming from, but I wasn’t sure how much patience I had for her right now.

“Roll the window down,” I said, tone casual, but there was that edge to it.

Mikasa didn't flinch. Instead, she looked at me with that same cold, unbothered expression. "You’re about to fuck up, Eren. I can feel it.”

I let out a breath through my nose and shrugged. "You know, Levi's gonna be pissed."

She scoffed and crossed her arms. "Don’t act like I give a damn what my cousin Levi does."

I chuckled darkly, leaning back into the seat as I checked her out. Mikasa was always the hard one to crack. Not like the others. She always had this way of pretending she didn’t care, but I knew better. I always knew better.

“Well, he does pay for your school and this nice ass car anyway,” I said, watching her face twitch just slightly.

She rolled her eyes but didn’t say anything more.

I knew I was pushing buttons, but I didn’t care. The fact was, Mikasa had a lot to lose if she kept pretending she was some innocent bystander in this. She wasn’t. And neither was I.

I reached into my jacket pocket, pulling out a cigarette, lighting it with a flick of my thumb as I stared at her.

I didn't need to talk much more. The tension between us, between all of us, spoke volumes. Mikasa knew it. I knew it.

"Go ahead, keep playing the game, Mikasa," I muttered, blowing out a puff of smoke. "But sooner or later, you're gonna have to pick a side."

Mikasa's eyes narrowed as she gave me a sharp look, clearly trying to get a read on me, as if she didn’t already know everything that was going on. I felt her pressure, but I wasn’t in the mood for games.

I leaned back further, dragging another deep hit from my cigarette before flicking the ash out the window. "But you got Historia's number..." I smirked, trying to provoke her.

Mikasa rolled her eyes, exhaling sharply. She wasn’t having any of it. "You're still obsessed with her, huh?"

I leaned in a bit closer, watching her every move. "You know she’s the love of my life."

Mikasa scoffed, shaking her head. "Right, and what's YN then? Your little plaything? Someone to pass the time when things are slow?"

I could feel her digging at me, but I was used to it. Mikasa always knew how to hit where it hurt. It didn’t faze me, though.

I let the words hang in the air for a moment, eyes fixed on her. "No. YN's... different. But you don't get it. You never will."

Mikasa stared back at me, trying to decipher my expression. I knew she hated that I was involved with YN, hated that I couldn't just leave her alone. But I wasn't done with this, not by a long shot.

She gave me a disappointed look, shaking her head slowly. "You're making a mistake, Eren. And you're dragging her down with you."

I grinned, a little too darkly. "You think I don’t know that? But it’s not up to you, Mikasa. I’ve already got my hands full with this mess."

She sighed, slumping back in her seat, clearly realizing she wasn’t going to get through to me. "You always were stubborn," she muttered, staring out the window.

I smirked, flicking the butt of the cigarette out the window. "And you always think you know better."

Mikasa didn’t say anything else, but I could feel the weight of the silence between us. She wasn’t going to let it slide, but I wasn’t ready to deal with her now.

"Just don't get too attached to her, Eren," Mikasa warned, voice softer now, but no less serious.

I met her eyes briefly. "Too late for that."

Mikasa's grip tightened on my shirt as she pulled me in closer, her eyes full of fire, as if she was challenging me to push her further. I could see the tension rising between us, like the air was thick with anticipation. But I wasn’t backing down.

"Let me ruin a friendship today," I muttered under my breath, just loud enough for her to hear. My smirk stretched wider as I felt the heat of the moment.

My gaze shifted to YN standing outside, her face just as shocked as I hoped. The look of confusion, frustration, and a little hurt—the perfect reaction, the one that made everything else feel worth it. I couldn’t resist. It was the kind of game I played. I locked eyes with her, letting her watch every second, every detail as I leaned in and kissed Mikasa.

For a moment, Mikasa didn’t pull away. She held onto me like she was trying to process what just happened. But I could tell, she wasn’t as affected as I was. Not yet. Her grip loosened slowly, and she pulled away with an almost defeated look on her face, her breath still heavy from the kiss.

But the real satisfaction? It was the look on YN’s face. I could see the pain flash across her features, followed by confusion and anger. And that was everything. It made my stomach twist, but in the most satisfying way. This was the chaos I thrived in. The way I got under people's skin.

Mikasa glanced at YN through the window, and the tension in the car was palpable. "You’re a fucking mess, Eren," Mikasa muttered, rubbing her lips like she couldn’t get the taste of the kiss out of her mouth.

I chuckled darkly. "Maybe, but I think she’s more of a mess than I am."

I leaned back against the seat, eyes still locked on YN, watching her every reaction. I knew it was cruel, but it didn’t matter. This was my world. And everyone, including YN, was just another piece to control.

"You know what, Mikasa? I’m done trying to explain myself to you," I said, voice low and steady. "I’ve got this."

Mikasa didn’t respond right away. She just stared out the window, clearly processing everything, or maybe just resigned to the fact that I was too far gone to change.

But as I watched YN walk away, her figure fading into the distance, I couldn’t help but feel a little thrill. She wasn’t going anywhere. Not really. She was mine now, whether she liked it or not.

Mikasa's voice cut through the silence like a knife. "What was that? You know Ony got locked up, right?" she asked, her tone a little sharper now, like she was trying to find some logic in all of this mess.

I couldn’t help but laugh. It wasn’t a genuine laugh; it was more of a dark chuckle, one that was laced with something dangerous. "I know you think I went over to YN only to fuck, Mikasa," I said, leaning back into the seat with a casual smirk. My eyes never left the rearview mirror, watching YN's figure fade further into the distance, as if she were just another person in my web. "But you’re wrong. It’s never just that with her."

Mikasa’s eyes narrowed, the silence hanging between us, thick and tense. "Then what the hell is it?" she asked, her voice lower now, trying to gauge my next move. She didn’t get it, but I didn’t expect her to. I knew what I was doing, and I knew exactly how to play everyone, including YN.

I paused for a moment, savoring the power I had over the situation. "It’s about control," I said, my voice colder now, more deliberate. "It’s about showing her that she’s never really in control, no matter how much she thinks she is."

I could see Mikasa fuming out of the corner of my eye. She didn’t like hearing the truth—she never did. But I couldn’t care less about her feelings right now. "I don’t expect you to understand," I added, letting out a small sigh, "but I’m not just playing with YN. She’s... different. I see that. And that’s why I’m keeping her close."

Mikasa was quiet for a moment, clearly thinking over my words. She wasn’t stupid. She could see through me, but she didn’t know the whole picture. No one did.

"You’re playing a dangerous game, Eren," Mikasa said finally, her voice heavy with warning. "And you think you’re the only one who can control things."

I met her gaze, and I let her see a glimpse of what I was capable of. "I’ve been playing dangerous games my whole life, Mikasa," I said softly. "And I’m damn good at it."

She didn’t respond, but I knew she was considering everything I’d said. The tension in the car was unbearable now, thick with the weight of unspoken truths. I knew I wasn’t going to stop until I had everything I wanted.

Armin rolled his eyes, leaning back in his seat, clearly irritated. "You know Levi’s gonna find out you set Ony up, right?" he said, his tone laced with skepticism. He wasn’t a fan of how messy things were getting, but that wasn’t his battle to fight.

I shot him a look, my smirk never wavering. "He’ll find out, sure," I said, "but he’ll also find out that Nico's got this covered. He’s our lawyer. He’ll get Ony out. No big deal."

Armin let out a frustrated sigh, rubbing his temples like I was giving him a headache. "That’s not the point, Eren. The point is that you’re playing with fire, and when this all goes down, it’s gonna burn."

I leaned in, my voice lowering, almost a whisper. "Well, if it burns, it burns, but it’s all part of the game, Armin." My eyes flickered to the rearview mirror again, watching as YN’s silhouette disappeared from my sight. "If anything goes wrong... well, I get more time with YN. So, what’s the real loss?"

Armin’s jaw tightened, his frustration now clearly evident. "You’re so damn twisted, Eren. You know that?"

I chuckled lightly, the sound dark and full of intention. "Yeah, I know. But that’s how I get things done. You don’t get what you want by playing nice all the time. If I’ve learned anything, it’s that you’ve gotta make people feel like they have no other choice. YN, Ony, Mikasa, you... you’re all pieces in this. But I’m always the one in control."

Armin shot me a look that said he didn’t approve, but he didn’t have the energy to argue anymore. "Just don’t screw this up," he muttered, sinking back into his seat. "The last thing we need is more chaos."

I looked over at him, smirking again. "Chaos is my specialty, Armin. Always has been."

I couldn't help but smirk as I saw YN’s messages flooding Mikasa’s phone. I knew she’d be pissed, but I didn’t care. She’d come around eventually. She always did.

Mikasa’s face was unreadable as she stared at her phone, reading the barrage of angry texts. She sighed and rubbed her forehead, clearly frustrated. "I didn't expect this much heat," she muttered, tossing the phone down onto the seat between us. "She's losing her damn mind."

I leaned back in the seat, crossing my arms, still grinning. "She’ll calm down. Just give her time. She's just angry because I’m not what she expected."

Mikasa shot me a look, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "You think? No one expects you to do the shit you do, Eren."

I shrugged, unbothered. "Exactly. That’s what makes it fun. She’ll figure it out, eventually. She always does." I let the words hang in the air, knowing full well what YN was feeling — betrayed, confused, hurt. But that was the game I was playing, and she was a pawn in it. She’d get over it or fall deeper into the web. Either way, I was winning.

Mikasa let out another exasperated sigh. "I don’t know how you do it. Messing with people’s lives like this."

I turned my head to look at her, a dark glint in my eye. "It's not messing with their lives. It’s taking control. And sometimes people need to be reminded who holds the power."

I could feel my phone vibrating in my pocket, and when I pulled it out, I saw a message from YN, calling me a bastard and telling me to stay away from her. I almost laughed at how predictable she was. I knew exactly what she was going through.

"Anyway," I said, slipping my phone back into my pocket. "I'll deal with her later. Right now, it’s about Mikasa. Let’s make sure she knows where she stands."

Mikasa shot me a glance, clearly not liking the way I was steering the conversation, but she didn’t say anything. She was used to my manipulative ways by now. She was in this too deep to back out.

But YN... she wasn’t like Mikasa. YN was more emotional, more unpredictable. I knew I had to handle her carefully, or she could break. But I wasn’t about to let that stop me.

Levi’s tone was as sharp as ever, and his eyes never left the rearview mirror as he spoke, his words calm but carrying an edge. The tension in the car thickened as soon as he got in. Mikasa didn’t say anything in response, just giving a quick nod and starting the car, shifting into gear.

Armin, on the other hand, slumped into his seat, looking like he had the worst luck imaginable. “Just my fucking luck…” he muttered under his breath. I could hear the frustration in his voice. It wasn’t just the situation with YN that had him worked up — it was everything piling up on him, the constant feeling like he was stuck in a mess not of his making. And now Levi was here, adding to it.

Levi’s gaze finally shifted from the rearview mirror to me. He didn’t speak at first, but I could feel the pressure building up, the unspoken tension between us. The way he stared, calculating, as though he was trying to figure out if I was really worth his time right now. After a beat, he finally broke the silence, his voice low but firm. “Eren, what the fuck is going on?”

I didn’t flinch under his gaze. I just leaned back in my seat and smirked, trying to play it cool. “What’s going on, Levi? You know the usual—dealing with business, handling my shit.”

Levi didn’t seem impressed. He just eyed me for a moment longer, before his eyes flicked back to Mikasa, then Erwin. His expression softened just slightly when his attention turned to Erwin, but only for a split second. Then, his tone returned to the cold, business-like way he always spoke when things were getting serious. “I don’t care about your business, Eren,” he said quietly, though the weight of his words was clear. “But I need you focused right now. There’s more going on than your little games with Mikasa and YN. If you don’t stay on track, I’ll deal with it.”

Erwin, who had been quiet up until then, spoke up, his voice calm but forceful. “Levi’s right. Reiner’s on his way to grab your jeep. Just focus, Eren. This doesn’t need to escalate. We’ve got enough going on.”

I could hear the edge in Erwin’s voice, but it didn’t really phase me. I wasn’t the type to be intimidated by them — not even Levi. But I knew there was truth in their words. The situation was slipping out of control. YN wasn’t going to sit by quietly, and I was already pushing her boundaries. Hell, I was pushing everyone’s boundaries. And now, with Levi here and the tension mounting, I couldn’t help but wonder if maybe I had pushed it too far this time.

But it didn’t matter. I wasn’t backing down. I never did.

“Fine,” I said with a shrug, breaking the silence in the car. “I’ll play it your way. But don’t expect me to drop everything for your little priorities, Levi.”

Levi didn’t respond right away. He just looked at me through the rearview mirror again, his gaze unflinching, before finally speaking. “You better get your shit together, Eren. This is bigger than you.”

I couldn’t help but smirk at that. “It always is with you guys.”

Erwin’s hand came out of nowhere, smacking the back of my head with a force that made me wince. "Ony got arrested," he said, his tone sharp and irritated. "You were nowhere to be found last night. What the hell happened?"

I rubbed the back of my head, still feeling the sting of Erwin’s hit. "Maybe YN’s dad set him up, I don’t know," I replied, my voice casual, but the flicker of uncertainty inside me was hard to hide. The situation was messy, and the more I tried to piece it together, the less sense it made.

Levi let out a low laugh from the front seat. He didn’t even turn around to face me, but the sound of his amusement was unmistakable. “Reggie... Nah,” he said, his voice a mix of disbelief and amusement. “You think that’s how this went down? Please, Eren. Reggie’s not even in the right position to set anything up. You know how this shit works.”

I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, feeling the weight of their stares on me. "I’m not saying I’m sure, but it’s possible, right?" I shot back defensively, though I wasn’t convinced myself.

Erwin sighed, shaking his head, clearly annoyed. "You’re missing the point, Eren. Whether or not Reggie’s involved is secondary. The real issue is you were out of touch. Ony getting caught up like that? It’s not a coincidence. And you’re just sitting here, acting like it’s all nothing."

I could feel the tension rise in the car. Levi’s gaze was still fixed on the road, but I could feel the weight of his disapproval.

I leaned back, crossing my arms, my eyes narrowing slightly. "You don’t think I know that? I was busy with other shit. Sometimes I gotta handle things outside of the bigger picture, you know?" I wasn’t about to apologize for my actions, especially not to them. I did what I had to do, and that was all that mattered to me.

Levi didn’t react immediately. He just kept driving, his fingers drumming lightly on the steering wheel as if he was waiting for something, or maybe just letting the silence speak for itself. After a beat, he finally spoke, his voice low but firm. “You better get your head in the game, Eren. This isn’t a damn game anymore. You’re not the only one with shit on the line.”

Erwin added in, his voice steady but carrying a weight to it. “You’ve been playing both sides, Eren. And it’s getting harder to keep your feet in both worlds.”

I knew they were right, but I wasn’t ready to admit it. Not yet. Instead, I looked out the window, trying to focus on anything but the mounting pressure in the car.

“You’ll see,” I muttered. “I’ll figure it out. Just leave it to me.”

The rest of the ride was silent, the tension thick, as if the words that had been spoken had already set something in motion that couldn’t be undone.

As the car finally rolled to a stop in front of the warehouse, Mikasa’s eyes were practically glowing with annoyance. She turned to Levi, clearly done with the back-and-forth. “I’m not a chauffeur, you know,” she snapped, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she cut the engine.

Levi, completely unfazed by her irritation, gave a casual shrug. “Yeah, yeah, yah,” he muttered dismissively. “Tell your mother I’m coming over Sunday for dinner.”

Mikasa rolled her eyes so hard it was almost comical. “Get a wife, Levi,” she shot back, her tone just as sharp as before.

Levi didn’t even blink at the comment, his expression remaining impassive. “Maybe one day,” he said, his voice laced with amusement, as he pushed open the door and slid out of the car with a fluid motion.

Erwin and I followed, stepping out behind him. Armin trailed behind us, still rubbing the back of his head where I had smacked him earlier. The usual tension that existed between us felt even more tangible now.

Mikasa stayed in the car for a moment, exhaling loudly as she leaned back into her seat, clearly annoyed but probably too tired to argue further. "You know, he’s gonna keep that up forever,” she muttered under her breath, before slamming the door shut and walking to catch up with the rest of us.

As we made our way into the warehouse, Levi didn’t miss a beat. He glanced at me, his eyes narrowing slightly as if reading something in my expression. “Get your head straight, Eren,” he said, almost as an afterthought, before he disappeared into the shadows of the building. Erwin and Armin followed, leaving me to ponder exactly what the hell I was doing in this mess.

The meeting dragged on, everyone’s voices blending together as Nico sifted through the thick stack of files, flicking through page after page with a sharp, calculated focus. I sat back, watching the chaos unfold, but I already knew Nico had a plan. He was smart, and even though the case was stacked against Ony, I was confident Nico could find a loophole. That was the point—let the guy dig himself into a hole, and then watch Nico pull him out.

Nico paused, his finger running down the page before he looked up at everyone, his expression grim. "20 years for..." He flicked through a few more pages, his voice quieter now, "48 fucking counts of murder."

The room fell silent, the weight of those words sinking in. Levi’s laughter broke the tension, though it was hollow and full of disbelief. "That case is shit," Levi said with a low chuckle, shaking his head. "Ony at least got close to, what, 120?"

Nico didn’t crack a smile. His eyes were still locked on the case file. "Yeah, but the real problem is the charges," Nico continued, his voice steady as ever. "He’s got drug possession charges, gun possession, drug trafficking... but the worst part? They’re trying to pin human trafficking on him."

The words hit me like a punch in the gut, but I masked my reaction quickly. I didn’t need to show weakness, not now.

Levi’s face darkened as he processed the information. His voice, when it came, was dripping with anger. "Now I know this case is shit," he muttered, glaring at Nico. "Cause we don’t fuck with that. Not ever."

Nico, unfazed, nodded. "I know," he said, his voice a little quieter now, "but that's what they're trying to push. They want to make an example of him. And if they do, it's not just Ony—they'll come after all of us."

The tension in the room shifted, and for the first time, I noticed the heaviness of it—the stakes were higher than I initially thought. This wasn’t just about getting Ony out of jail; it was about protecting everything we’d built. Protecting the crew, the family, from this kind of heat.

"I’ll find a way," Nico added after a long pause, lifting his eyes to meet Levi’s. "But we need to play it smart. No rash moves."

Levi nodded slowly, his mind clearly working over the details. "Get it done," he said curtly, and just like that, the tension seemed to lift a little.

I leaned back, knowing there wasn’t much more to be said. Nico had his work cut out for him, but I trusted him. He’d get Ony out of this, one way or another.

Hopefully my name aint get caught up in this. 

[sherewrytes]

𝔹𝕣𝕠𝕜𝕖𝕟 ℙ𝕚𝕖𝕔𝕖𝕤, ℝ𝕪𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕟 𝕊𝕦𝕜𝕦𝕟𝕒 14

↳ Sukuna x f! black reader

Summary: After the death of his grandfather, Sukuna Ryomen is left to shoulder the weight of his family, caring for his younger brothers, Yuuji and Choso. As he withdraws into grief, his relationship with Y/N, his girlfriend of a year, begins to crumble. When Y/N discovers the truth about his grandfather’s passing during a heated argument, it leads to a painful breakup. Now, both are navigating life apart, but Sukuna’s heart aches for Y/N. Determined to win her back, he must confront his pain and find a way to break through the walls he’s built. Can he rekindle their love, or is it too late?

contents: heavy angst, modern au, 18+, smut, dark romance, drug use, talks of depression and similar topics. (a lil )

fic warnings. ooc, profanity, mental health issues, toxic relationships, cheating, explicit smut, serious drug use, mentions of depression + more to be updated as story progresses.

Please read with proper discretion. this is a work of fiction. all characters are written to portray roles that are necessary to the plot and are in no way a reflection of their canon counterparts.

Taglist: @for-hearthand-home@clp-84@thelightknight21@favvkiki  @helightknight21@dylsw@ria-s-writes@sleepymothafterhours@sukunasstomachtongue@cosmic-lovr@imm0rtalbutterfly@kyo-kyo1

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Chapter 14: New Beginnings

Toji's POV

I ran my fingers over the rim of my glass, staring into it as if it held the answers I was searching for. Why the hell did I sleep with Y/N? I knew damn well how Sukuna felt about her, and I wasn’t some stranger to the guy. He was my best friend, and no matter how much I tried to push it down, I knew it wasn’t right.

Y/N, though... she was like the fucked-up version of everything. She was beautiful, smart, and so damn unpredictable. Just when I thought I had her figured out, she’d pull some move that’d leave me reeling. And it wasn’t like I didn’t feel something for her. But that damn feeling of guilt always came crawling back to me, clawing at my chest.

She was too close to Sukuna, too much of a reminder of who he was—the guy who had a hold over everything, even me. And now, here I was, caught up in a moment of weakness that I knew would bite me in the ass.

Sukuna deserved better than this, I thought. Hell, I deserved better than this.

I dragged a hand through my hair, frustration simmering beneath my skin. I was just playing games with myself at this point, trying to convince myself I didn’t care. But the truth was, I did.

“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath, leaning back in the chair. What the hell had I done?

I caught sight of Y/N again, this time laughing with Mei Mei and Shoko. Her smile tugged at me in ways I couldn’t explain. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was just the reality I had to face.

I wasn’t just caught up in a game anymore. This was real. And the consequences? Yeah, I had a feeling they were gonna hit hard, whether I was ready for them or not.

Geto's POV

I sat down next to Toji, feeling the tension in the air between us like a thick cloud. He was drinking, and I didn’t blame him. Hell, I wanted to drink too. But the atmosphere felt like it was getting heavier by the second. I couldn't ignore the way he was acting—like he had his hands tied in a situation that was just... wrong.

"They're grilling Y/N over there about fucking you," I started, my voice low, trying to keep things casual. "I mean, Sukuna isn’t shit—well, I won’t say that. He's a fucked-up guy, but he's our friend, and we... hmm, you... out of all the girls, Y/N, man?"

Toji didn’t respond immediately, but I could see it in his eyes. That guilt, that confusion. I knew him too well. The guy had always been good at hiding it, but he wasn’t fooling anyone. Not me. Not anymore.

I took a drag from my cigarette, letting the smoke curl up between us before turning to face him. “You know what you’re doing, right? I get it. Y/N’s... Y/N. But you don’t want to be the one who messes with her heart. Not when she’s already been through enough shit with Sukuna. And if you think for one second he won’t notice, you’re lying to yourself.”

I looked at him seriously, watching his reaction. There was more to this than just a quick fuck. Toji wasn’t stupid—he knew the implications of what had just happened. Hell, everyone in this damn room probably did.

"You’re gonna have to figure out what the hell you want, Toji," I said, my voice quieter this time. "But don’t drag her into this mess if you don’t plan on keeping her close. Because Sukuna? He’s not gonna let this slide."

I let the silence hang there, hoping he heard me loud and clear. The last thing I needed was more people getting hurt in this fucked-up cycle we had going on.

I leaned back in my chair, the weight of my words sinking in as I watched Toji’s expression shift. There was something in his eyes that told me he was processing everything. I wasn't sure if it was guilt or regret, but it was there, and it wasn't a look I saw often from him.

"Yeah," I continued, my voice steady but firm, "if you guys keep going down this path, someone’s gonna have to tell Sukuna. We don’t need him finding out on his own, randomly."

I paused, feeling the atmosphere around us grow thicker. Toji shifted slightly, his fingers drumming on his drink, but I could see the flicker of concern in his eyes. I wasn’t here to tell him how to live his life, but damn, he had to know what the consequences would be if this went south.

“I mean, you were there when I checked on him that first time, right?” I said, my tone quieter now, remembering the chaos that had unfolded. “When I found him passed out from an overdose... you all saw the state of his room. It wasn’t just the drugs. It was everything. He was spiraling hard.”

Toji’s eyes flickered to the floor, and I could tell he was thinking about it—thinking about what kind of person Sukuna had become, the lengths he’d gone to try to cope with the mess of his life. And the more I talked, the more I realized that even if Toji didn’t say it out loud, he was starting to understand.

“I don’t think anyone here wants to deal with that again,” I said, my voice softer now, almost a warning. "And yet, if we keep pushing this, if we keep letting things spiral... it’s gonna happen again, and none of us are ready for it."

I watched as Toji’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t say anything right away. We were both stuck in a moment of clarity, a brief second where reality settled in.

“I’m just saying,” I continued, dragging on my cigarette before flicking the ash off the end, “we can’t keep pretending like everything’s fine when it's obviously not. Either we handle it like we should, or we let it blow up in our faces. It’s on you to decide what’s next."

I leaned back in my chair, letting the smoke fill the air between us. I knew this wasn’t an easy conversation to have, but if anyone could get through to him, it would be now. Because when Sukuna found out, if he found out in the wrong way—things wouldn’t just get messy. They’d get ugly. And none of us wanted that.

YN POV

It’s 11 PM, and just as I’m about to close my eyes and finally get some rest, there’s a knock on my door. It’s been three days since I saw Toji. Three days of quiet, of nothing happening between us after that night. And honestly, part of me was relieved. I’d been second-guessing everything, wondering what the hell I had gotten myself into. But now, hearing the knock, I felt my stomach flip.

I open the door to find him standing there, looking like he hasn’t slept in days. His eyes are dark, and there’s an edge to his posture. He doesn’t say anything at first, just stares at me for a moment.

“You couldn’t just text?” I ask, trying to keep my tone light, but it comes out a little more harsh than I intended. I step aside to let him in.

Toji walks in without saying a word. He looks... stressed. More than I’ve ever seen him, and that’s saying something. He starts pacing the living room, his fingers raking through his hair like he’s lost his mind.

“I got a call,” he finally says, his voice rough. “Well, Gojo and I both got calls from Sukuna’s therapist. They wanna extend his stay. They think he’s been getting pills from someone. He’s resisting them... in a sense. But it’s bad, Y/N. I don’t know how bad. I don’t think he’s gonna come out of this on his own. Not without help.”

I watch him pace back and forth, his anxiety growing by the second. I know that Sukuna's been spiraling, but hearing it from Toji like this, in such a frantic state, makes the weight of the situation hit me harder than ever.

I stand up slowly, unsure of what to say. The uncertainty of everything we’ve been avoiding hangs thick in the air between us. As I watch him pace, I feel this pull to do something, anything to help him. But I don’t know where to start.

I reach out, my hand instinctively touching his arm to stop him. He freezes, his body going rigid at my touch. He looks down at my hand, and for a split second, our eyes meet.

His gaze is intense, conflicted, and I can see the weight of everything he’s carrying. “What does this have to do with me?” I ask quietly, my heart racing in my chest, unsure if I want to know the answer.

He stares at me, a flash of pain flickering across his face. He opens his mouth like he’s about to say something, but then he just exhales deeply and shakes his head.

“Nothing... and everything.” His voice cracks slightly, betraying the calm front he’s trying to keep. He reaches up to touch his face, dragging a hand down it, clearly struggling to maintain his composure. “I just needed to tell you... needed you to know.”

I’m not sure what he’s trying to say, or why he feels the need to tell me now. But as I watch him, I know something in him is breaking. And it feels like I’m standing on the edge of something dangerous—something that could change everything.

The silence stretches between us, thick and heavy. I want to reach out to him, to say something comforting, but I know I can't fix this. I can't fix him, and I definitely can’t fix the mess that’s been created between us all.

Finally, Toji speaks again, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

The words hit me harder than I expected. And for a moment, I don’t know what to say back. He’s not just sorry about what happened between us. He’s apologizing for everything—for Sukuna, for the situation, for the way things have played out.

I open my mouth to respond, but before I can say anything, I realize that the only thing I really want to do right now is make sure he’s okay. Even if it means stepping into a mess I’m not sure I’m ready for.

“You’re not alone in this, Toji,” I say softly, the words coming out more like a promise than anything else.

I watched him pace again, his movements frantic, like he couldn’t settle. Then, just as quickly, he stopped. His whole body seemed to freeze, tension building in the space between us. He took a few steps closer, and suddenly, he was right in front of me, towering over me.

I barely had time to react before he spoke, his voice low, rough, carrying an edge of something... regret? Pain? I couldn’t tell. “I can’t forget about that night,” he said, his eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that made my breath catch.

My pulse quickened, and for a moment, I couldn’t form any words. I didn’t know how to respond to him, not after everything that had happened. After the way I had kissed him, after the mess we had created.

But he didn’t seem to need a response. He just stood there, looking at me like he was waiting for something. Like he was waiting for me to either pull away or lean in.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” he continued, his voice softer now, almost pleading. “But I can’t stop thinking about it. About you. About how everything feels so... wrong right now. This whole situation. What the hell are we doing, Y/N?”

His words hit me like a ton of bricks, and I felt the weight of them pressing down on me, suffocating me in a way I wasn’t prepared for.

I opened my mouth, but the words wouldn’t come. What was I supposed to say to that? How could I even begin to make sense of the chaos we’d created between us?

“I didn’t mean for it to happen either,” I finally managed to say, my voice barely above a whisper. “But we can’t just pretend it didn’t.”

He sighed heavily, raking a hand through his hair, and I could tell he was trying to piece together something that made sense. “I know,” he muttered. “But this—” He gestured between us, “—this isn’t just about what happened. I’m... I’m worried about Sukuna. He’s messed up, Y/N. And I’m just making it worse.”

I took a deep breath, trying to keep myself steady. "We're all messed up, Toji. But we can't keep ignoring it. We have to figure out what comes next. For all of us."

He nodded slowly, as if processing everything I said, but there was still a heaviness in his gaze. Something unresolved. Something we both knew we couldn’t ignore anymore.

“Maybe,” he said quietly, his voice almost a whisper, “but I can’t keep pretending that that night didn’t mean anything. I can’t just... move on from it.”

I swallowed hard, looking up at him, my heart pounding in my chest. "Neither can I."

Toji leaned in, closing the space between us in an instant. His hand gently cupped the side of my face, his thumb grazing my skin in a way that made my pulse race. The air between us was thick with unspoken words, the weight of everything hanging over us, but in that moment, I couldn’t pull away.

When his lips met mine, it was different this time. It wasn’t the frantic kiss from before, the one fueled by confusion and desire. This one was slow, deliberate, like he was trying to make sense of everything that had been building between us. There was no hesitation. No second-guessing. Just the undeniable truth of what we had shared, and what was still lingering in the air.

His kiss deepened, his hands finding their way to my waist, pulling me closer. I let out a soft breath against his lips, feeling the tension that had been building up between us crack and fall away, piece by piece. I couldn’t tell if I was doing this because I wanted it, or if it was the weight of everything—Sukuna, Toji, the mess we had made—that drove me into his arms. But at that moment, it didn’t matter.

I kissed him back, matching his pace, letting him take control of the moment. For once, I didn’t feel guilty. I didn’t feel like I had to choose. I just let myself feel everything—the pull, the desire, the storm that had been brewing inside of me.

When we finally broke apart, both of us breathless, I knew that something had shifted between us. I couldn’t say this was a mistake anymore. The connection between us felt too real, too raw. It was as if we had crossed a line we couldn’t uncross, and neither of us was ready to turn back.

Toji’s forehead rested against mine as he caught his breath, his hands still resting on my waist. “This... we can’t keep pretending, can we?” he whispered, his voice rough.

“No,” I replied softly, my voice barely above a whisper. “We can’t.”

I closed my eyes for a moment, letting the weight of his words settle in. The air between us was thick with everything unsaid, every lingering emotion we had tried to bury. I wasn’t sure what it meant, what would come after this. But the intensity of his gaze, the way his hands felt on me, told me there was no turning back now.

Toji pulled back slightly, his hands still resting on my waist, his eyes searching mine as if trying to read my thoughts. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing,” he admitted quietly, his voice filled with a kind of vulnerability I hadn’t heard from him before. “I shouldn’t be here. But I can’t stop thinking about you.”

I swallowed, my heart pounding in my chest. “Toji,” I said softly, my voice shaky. “This... whatever this is, it’s not just a distraction for me. I don’t want to hurt anyone. Especially not Sukuna or you.”

He winced at the mention of his name, and for a second, I saw the guilt flash in his eyes. “I know. I know, but fuck, Yn. I can’t stand seeing him like this. And then you... you show up in my life, and all I can think about is you.”

I looked away for a moment, trying to gather my thoughts. “Sukuna... he’s not well. And you’re right, he’s been spiraling. But I can’t just forget him. He’s part of this—part of me.”

Toji’s hand gently tilted my chin up, forcing me to meet his gaze again. “I know. And I’m not asking you to forget about him. But we can’t keep pretending like nothing’s changed between us.”

I nodded slowly, a knot forming in my stomach. “I don’t know how to fix this. I don’t know what we’re supposed to do.”

Toji’s thumb traced the outline of my lips, his eyes darkening slightly as he watched me. “We don’t have to fix anything right now. We just have to figure out where we go from here.” His voice dropped to a near whisper. “And if you’re not ready for that, I get it. But I can’t keep pretending like this doesn’t matter.”

I felt the weight of his words settle heavily on my chest. This wasn’t just about a kiss anymore. It wasn’t just about the confusion or the mess we were all tangled in. It was about something real. Something raw.

“I don’t know if I’m ready,” I said, my voice barely a whisper, but I wasn’t sure if I meant it for him, for myself, or for the situation we had found ourselves in.

He nodded, his lips curling into a small, almost sad smile. “I don’t think any of us are ready. But we’ll figure it out.”

And for the first time in a long while, I wasn’t sure about the future, but I was willing to take the next step forward, whatever it might mean.

His words hung in the air between us, heavy and charged, as his body loomed over mine. The sound of my heart pounding in my chest filled the silence. His green eyes, intense and searching, locked onto mine, awaiting my response. I could feel the weight of his presence, the heat radiating from him, but there was something else too—uncertainty, a need for reassurance that this wasn’t just a momentary lapse, a distraction.

But I couldn’t push him away, not when every part of me screamed for him. I needed this—whatever this was. The confusion, the hurt, the guilt—it was all too much, and in that moment, being close to Toji felt like the only thing that could keep me from falling apart.

I reached up, my hands trembling slightly as they found the back of his neck, pulling him closer. My breath caught in my throat as our lips met again, but this time it was different. There was no hesitation, no waiting for permission. It was raw, desperate—a need to forget everything else, if only for a moment.

Toji responded in kind, deepening the kiss as his hands slid under my shirt, his touch hot and urgent. I gasped as his lips moved down to my neck, the sensation sending shivers down my spine. My hands tugged at his shirt, wanting to feel his skin, to drown out the noise in my head with the heat of him.

"Stop me if you don't want this," Toji repeated, his voice low, rough against my skin.

I didn’t say anything at first. I couldn’t. The words were stuck in my throat, swallowed up by the intensity of the moment. I didn’t know what I wanted anymore, or if I even cared. I just knew that in his arms, I didn’t have to think. I didn’t have to be anything other than this—us, right here, right now.

I pulled him closer, my body responding to him without a second thought. There was no turning back from this, no avoiding the consequences. I didn’t know what this would mean for Sukuna, for Toji, for me. But at that moment, none of that mattered.

I kissed him again, deeper this time, letting go of everything I had been holding onto.

the warmth of Toji’s body against mine was the first thing I felt when I woke up. His arm was draped around me, his fingers lightly grazing the skin of my waist, his breathing slow and steady as he slept. I could feel the weight of his chest rising and falling against my back, his presence grounding me in a way I hadn’t expected.

But as I lay there, staring at the ceiling, a wave of realization hit me. Last night. Everything that had happened—it wasn’t just a blur. It wasn’t just a mistake. I had given in to the moment, to the need to feel something other than the pain, the uncertainty. But now, with the morning light spilling into the room, I was starting to question everything.

I slowly shifted, trying not to wake him, but his grip on me tightened. He mumbled something unintelligible, pulling me closer, his lips brushing against my neck. A shiver ran down my spine, but it was mixed with guilt. What had I done?

Toji had been my friend, and I had known the consequences of what could happen between us. But last night... I had thrown all of that away. For what? To fill the emptiness? To escape from the mess of emotions I had been avoiding?

I wasn’t sure.

I stayed still for a moment, letting the calmness of the morning surround me, but as the seconds ticked by, I couldn’t help but feel the weight of what had happened, what was still to come. Toji was here, tangled in the mess of sheets with me, but there was someone else I had left behind. Someone I had failed in more ways than one.

Sukuna.

But as I glanced at Toji, the one person who had been here for me in ways I hadn’t even realized, I couldn’t ignore the pull I felt toward him. Despite everything. Despite the situation we had both gotten ourselves into.

I closed my eyes for a moment, letting out a breath I didn’t realize I had been holding. I didn’t know what came next, but right now, I couldn’t change what had already happened.

And when Toji’s hand moved from my waist to my chest, his touch lingering a little too long, I let myself sink back into the warmth of his embrace.

There was no turning back now.

Toji had been staying over more often these past few nights, though we didn’t call it anything official. It wasn’t a relationship, not really. We just... fucked around. There was something easy about it, something that kept me distracted, kept my mind from wandering to darker places. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t drawn to him—his strength, his presence, the way he seemed to pull me in without even trying. But there was always that gnawing feeling in the back of my mind.

Sukuna. I hadn’t heard from him since our last encounter, and while part of me felt relief, another part of me felt an undeniable worry. I knew he wasn’t doing well. I knew his struggles—he’d made it clear how much he hated being in that psych ward, how much he despised needing help. And now, Toji... Toji said he would talk to Sukuna when he was in a better place, when he had the right words to explain what had happened between us.

But how could he? How could he explain the mess we had made of everything?

I sat on the couch, staring blankly at the television, though I wasn’t watching it. My phone buzzed on the coffee table—another text from Toji, checking in. He’d stayed out late last night, and I had been left alone with my thoughts, pacing around my apartment, replaying the same questions over and over.

Was I wrong for what I had done with Toji? Was it worth it? Would Sukuna ever understand?

I sighed and picked up my phone, typing out a quick response to Toji.

“I’m just worried about him. He’s not doing well, and I don’t think anyone’s taking it seriously enough.”

The text was sent, and I leaned back against the cushions, my fingers tracing the edges of my mug. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong, even if I didn’t want to admit it. I had distanced myself from Sukuna for so long, but now it felt like that distance was growing wider every day.

Toji had mentioned that Gojo and Geto had been giving Sukuna a hard time for being around me, which only made me more anxious. I knew that things had always been complicated between us, but now it felt like everything was falling apart in ways I couldn’t control. Toji had reassured me that he’d handle it, that he’d figure out how to talk to Sukuna once he was better, but I couldn’t ignore the worry settling deep in my chest.

I was afraid of what Sukuna might do when he found out. I was afraid of losing him, even though I didn’t know what we were anymore.

The apartment was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that felt suffocating. I could hear the faint hum of the refrigerator and the ticking of the clock on the wall, but my mind kept racing with every thought I tried to suppress. The past few days had been a blur of emotions—guilt, confusion, desire—and I couldn’t help but feel lost in it all.

My phone buzzed again, interrupting my spiraling thoughts.

“We’ll talk to him when the time’s right. I’m not worried about Sukuna. I’m more worried about us, YN. About what you want.”

I stared at the message for a long time, unsure of how to respond. What did I want? I wasn’t sure anymore. I didn’t know if I could keep going like this, bouncing between Toji and Sukuna, trying to hold on to whatever connection I had left with either of them. I knew I needed to make a decision, but the fear of making the wrong one kept me paralyzed.

I glanced up at the clock on the wall—11:30 pm. Another hour until Toji would likely show up after his shift at the tattoo shop. I couldn’t stop myself from thinking about what had happened between us, how I had allowed myself to get tangled in this web of uncertainty.

I hadn’t intended to hurt Sukuna. I hadn’t meant to betray him. But every time I tried to justify my actions, I felt more and more like I was fooling myself.

The door clicked open, and I turned to see Toji walk in, his usual smirk playing on his lips. For a moment, I almost forgot everything that had been weighing on me. I stood up to greet him, but the doubts in my mind crept back in, taking root once again.

He could see the change in my expression immediately. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice soft but with that same intensity I was starting to expect from him.

I shook my head, forcing a smile. “Nothing,” I said quickly, though my voice betrayed me. “Just thinking.”

He walked over to me and placed a hand on my shoulder, his gaze softening. “I told you I’ll handle it, YN. Sukuna, the guys... they’ll all understand eventually. But you need to be honest with yourself. About what you want.”

I swallowed hard, his words cutting through me in a way I hadn’t expected. He was right. I couldn’t keep pretending that everything was fine, that I didn’t have to face the consequences of my choices. But even if I did face them... what was I supposed to do?

“You’re not the only one who’s confused,” I finally said, my voice barely above a whisper.

Toji’s eyes softened as he took a step closer, pulling me into his arms. For a moment, I let myself lean into him, savoring the comfort of his touch, but in the back of my mind, I couldn’t stop thinking about Sukuna. What was he doing? How was he feeling?

“Everything’s going to work out,” Toji murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

But as I closed my eyes, I knew that nothing was certain anymore. Not with Sukuna. Not with Toji. Not with me.

And I wasn’t sure I had the strength to fix it all.

The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the room. Toji and I had the day to ourselves, and for once, I felt like I could breathe without the constant weight of my thoughts pressing down on me. He was lounging on the couch, his usual relaxed demeanor on full display as he scrolled through his phone. I was getting ready to make breakfast, the quiet hum of the apartment offering a brief moment of peace.

"So, what do you wanna do today?" I asked, glancing back at him.

Toji looked up, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Nothing really, just enjoy the time. We’ve got the whole day."

I chuckled, turning back to the stove. "That’s one way to say you’re lazy," I teased, flipping the pancake on the pan.

He raised an eyebrow. "I’m not lazy, just... selective with how I spend my time."

I laughed, shaking my head. I set the plate on the table and joined him, taking a seat across from him.

Toji’s phone buzzed, pulling his attention away from the moment. He checked the screen and sighed. "Geto and Gojo are gonna visit Sukuna today. They’re going to check on him, see how he’s holding up in that damn place."

I felt a pang in my chest at the mention of Sukuna’s name. I hadn’t seen him in days, and the uncertainty surrounding him weighed heavily on me. I didn’t want to keep avoiding him, but the whole situation was complicated. Toji seemed to sense my hesitation, watching me closely.

"You should go," I said quietly. "Sukuna needs someone who gets him, someone who can really talk to him."

Toji’s gaze softened, but he didn’t respond right away. He ran a hand through his hair, looking slightly uneasy. "I’ll go another time," he finally said, not meeting my eyes. "He’s in a better place now. Geto and Gojo can handle it today."

There was a strange tension in the air. He wasn’t saying much, but I could tell he was conflicted. Sukuna was his best friend, after all, and yet... there was something that kept him from going today. Something he wasn’t saying.

I took a deep breath, trying to push aside the gnawing feeling in my gut. "Okay, but just don’t wait too long. He needs you, Toji."

He looked at me, his expression unreadable for a moment before his usual smirk returned. "Don’t worry about me. I’ll deal with it when I’m ready."

I nodded, but the unease didn’t go away. I wasn’t sure what exactly was stopping Toji from going, but I could feel it. And more than anything, I was scared of what would happen if Sukuna continued to spiral and no one stepped in.

We spent the rest of the day together, trying to forget the heaviness of the situation. Toji kept the mood light, teasing me about everything from my cooking skills to my tendency to overthink. It helped, for a while. But in the back of my mind, I couldn’t help but feel like something was slipping out of reach.

At the end of the day, I knew I would have to face the reality of everything eventually. The growing distance between me and Sukuna. The confusing mess that was my relationship with Toji. And the fear that I might lose them both.

But for now, I let myself enjoy the quiet moment, the soft rhythm of the day passing by with him at my side.

Toji ordered Chinese food and I was heckling him for finally ordering something other than pizza. 

I was halfway through my spring rolls when Toji’s phone rang, the familiar tune of Gojo’s contact flashing on the screen. I raised an eyebrow as Toji answered, casually leaning back in his chair, but something shifted in his expression. It was subtle at first—just a quick tightening of his jaw—but it was enough to catch my attention.

“What’s up, Gojo?” Toji asked, his tone still relaxed but with an edge I hadn’t heard before.

I went back to eating, but I couldn’t ignore the way his body tensed. His eyes flicked over to me as he listened, and I could sense something was off. I swallowed hard, trying not to stare, but the feeling of impending tension was hard to shake.

Toji’s calm demeanor began to slip as Gojo spoke, and my eyes narrowed. I caught the words, “What did you say?” and then, “You told Sukuna what?!”

My heart dropped into my stomach.

I didn’t need to hear more. The way Toji’s face hardened, the darkening of his expression—it was enough to know that something big was happening. I leaned forward, mouthing What’s going on? as he continued to listen, his hand tightening around the phone.

“Are you fucking crazy, Gojo?” Toji snapped, his voice low, a mix of frustration and disbelief. He stood up, pacing back and forth, and I was left watching him, my mind spinning.

I tried to steady myself, but the knot in my stomach only tightened. The silence on the other end of the line hung heavy, punctuated by Toji’s muttered curses. I had no idea what was going on, but I had the sinking feeling that it wasn’t good. Not for me, and certainly not for Sukuna.

Toji ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head, still listening intently. His eyes flicked back to mine. “Sukuna said what?” he asked, a sharp edge to his voice.

I stood, unable to sit still any longer. Whatever it was, whatever had just happened, I felt the weight of it crushing down on me. My stomach churned as I waited for Toji to respond.

“Gojo,” he said after a long pause, “you better not be playing with me right now. He said, "What about Y/N?”

There it was. My name had slipped from Toji’s lips like a warning. The tone of his voice was low and serious, a far cry from the carefree man I’d spent the afternoon with. I swallowed hard, the realization slowly sinking in.

I moved closer, now standing beside him, waiting for his next words. Toji’s eyes flicked to mine, the tension in the air palpable as the conversation continued. He didn’t say anything to me, but his expression told me everything I needed to know: whatever had happened, I was right in the middle of it.

Finally, Toji hung up the phone, his face drawn with frustration. “Gojo’s an idiot,” he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “But I guess... Sukuna knows now.”

My heart hammered in my chest. “Know what?” I asked, the words barely coming out.

Toji’s eyes met mine, and I could see the guilt swirling in them. “Knows about... you and me. He’s not taking it well, Y/N. Gojo told him everything.”

[sherewrytes]

LET ME TELL YOU SOMETHING you put you FOOT in that ONY story felt like I was watching somebody live fr!!!! Now I will wait patiently for the next part 😭😭😭

lol i'll try to dr4op it this week, life is being hectic as per usual but i was giggling writing that fr

[sherewrytes]

Don't worry imma post this soon

It's my 1 year anniversary on Tumblr 🥳

[sherewrytes]

I still have some fics to update but life is busier when you're unemployed and transitioning into self employed life so I'll try to post this weekend

[sherewrytes]

Dream Team Gojo/Geto x black reader

Gojo and Geto enjoy their fav band groupie after getting home from a long tour.

Title: Dream Team Pairing: Gojo Satoru x Geto Suguru x Black!Fem!Reader Rating: 18+ (Explicit)

Rockband au, smut, breeding.. thats the warning

didnt proof read, just wrote and thats it

she and her was used interchangeably with you and yours. I messed it up

The smell of thyme and roasted garlic filled the apartment as Y/N adjusted the apron around your waist. She leaned down to check the oven, the bubbling juices of the steak confirming your timing was perfect. The rest of the meal—creamy mashed potatoes, sautéed green beans, and freshly baked rolls—was already set on the dining table, next to a bottle of wine she’d been saving.

You stole a glance at your phone resting on the counter. No new messages. With a sigh, she leaned back against the counter, wiping your hands on the towel at your side. They’d been gone for weeks. Sure, video calls and late-night texts helped, but nothing could replace their presence. Their chaos.

A buzz from your phone broke your thoughts. Gojo: We’re coming up! Hope you’re ready to see your favorite people.Geto: Ignore him. But yes, we’re almost there.

Your lips curled into a smile, anticipation lighting your chest. It didn’t take long before the sound of keys jingling outside the door made yourheart race. A second later, the door swung open, and there he was.

“Honey, we’re hoooome!” Gojo’s voice rang through the apartment as he strode in, his sunglasses perched haphazardly atop his messy white hair. He spread his arms wide like a conquering hero, grinning from ear to ear.

Behind him, Geto walked in with a quiet confidence, his dark hair tied back except for a few strands framing his face. His smile was smaller but no less genuine, his dark eyes soft as they met yours.

“You didn’t burn the place down while we were gone?” Gojo teased, setting his bags down in the corner.

“Missed you too, Satoru,” Y/N shot back, rolling your eyes, though the warmth in your tone betrayed you. Before she could say anything else, he swept you into a bear hug, effortlessly lifting you off the ground.

“You’re sweaty! Put me down!” she laughed, swatting at his shoulder.

“Not until you say it.”

“Say what?”

“That you missed me,” he teased, his grin widening.

“Fine, I missed you!”

Satisfied, he set you down, planting an exaggerated kiss on your forehead. “Knew it.”

As soon as she was free of Gojo’s grip, Geto stepped forward, pulling you into a gentler hug. His arms wrapped around your waist, his chin resting briefly on your shoulder. “We missed you too,” he murmured, his voice low and warm.

Your heart squeezed at the quiet sincerity in his tone. “I’m just glad you’re back.”

Dinner was everything Y/N had hoped for: laughter, banter, and a slow unraveling of the tension that had built during their time apart.

Gojo, true to form, couldn’t resist stirring up trouble. “Are you seriously stealing from my plate?” Y/N glared at him as he shamelessly speared a piece of steak from your dish.

“Quality testing,” he replied, popping the bite into his mouth with a wink. “What if it’s poisoned?”

Geto smirked, casually reaching over to take a roll from her plate. “He’s got a point. Can’t be too careful.”

Y/N threw up her hands. “Unbelievable. I make you this nice meal, and this is how you repay me?”

“It’s our way of showing love,” Gojo said, his grin far too charming for his own good.

“You call this love?”

Geto leaned back, his voice calm and teasing. “It’s the only kind we know.”

Their laughter filled the apartment, their voices overlapping as they traded stories from the tour. As the night wore on, the playful teasing became heavier, their compliments more lingering

By the time Y/N was rinsing plates at the sink, she could feel their eyes on her. It started as a light, almost imperceptible pressure—a gaze she was all too familiar with.

“Leave that,” Gojo’s voice purred from behind her.

Warm hands slid around her waist, pulling her back against his chest. She felt his lips graze the shell of her ear. “We’ve got better things to do.”

Her smirk was audible in her response. “Better things like helping me clean up?”

He chuckled, spinning her around to face him. “Better things like making up for lost time.”

Geto appeared at her side, his presence grounding. He reached out, his thumb brushing against her cheek as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “You’ve done enough for us tonight,” he murmured, his gaze heavy and intent.

The air between them grew thick, charged with an energy that made Y/N’s pulse race. Gojo tilted her chin up, pressing a soft, teasing kiss to her lips. “Missed this too,” he whispered against her mouth.

Gojo's fingers trailed along the delicate column of your throat, applying just the slightest bit of pressure. The masculine scent of his cologne mixed with the savory aroma of the Creole food cooking on the stove, creating an intoxicating blend that made your head spin.

"Gojo," you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper. Your body pressed back against his, relishing the feeling of his firm chest and strong arms encircling you.

Suguru's hands roamed your body, his touch both gentle and demanding as he explored every curve and dip. He dipped his head to nuzzle into the crook of your neck, his teeth grazing your sensitive skin.

"We want you, yn," Suguru growled in your ear, his voice low and rough with desire. "We need to feel you, taste you, make you ours all over again."

Gojo's grip on your throat tightened slightly, sending a thrill of excitement coursing through your veins. You could feel the heat of his body radiating through your clothes, his hardness pressing insistently against your ass.

"You're playing with fire, love," Gojo murmured, his lips brushing against your earlobe. "Teasing us like this, cooking up all this delicious food… it's driving us wild."

You let out a shaky moan, your hips rolling back to grind against Gojo's straining erection. "Then take me," you challenged, your voice thick with need. "Make me yours, show me how much you want me."

Gojo's eyes darkened with lust as he watched Suguru's fingers disappear beneath the waistband of your shorts. The sight of his lover's hand rubbing your most intimate parts sent a jolt of arousal straight to Gojo's cock, making it throb and twitch with need.

"Her mouth," Gojo growled, his voice rough with desire. "I need that slick mouth wrapped around my cock. Want to fuck that pretty face until my cum is dripping down your chin."

you whimpered, your pussy clenching around Suguru's invading fingers. "Yes, fuck," you breathed, your eyes glazed with pleasure. "Use my mouth, make me choke on your big, hard cock."

Suguru chuckled darkly, his fingers pumping in and out of your wet heat. "You heard her, Gojo. She wants to be used, wants to be our little fucktoy. Think you can handle that?"

Gojo smirked, already working at the fastenings of his jeans. "Oh, I can handle anything she throws at me," he boasted, freeing his throbbing erection from its confines. "Gonna make her scream on my cock, make her beg for more."

He gripped the base of his shaft, giving it a few rough strokes as he stepped closer to you. "Get on your knees, baby," he commanded, his voice low and authoritative. "Time to put that mouth to work."

You complied eagerly, sinking to your knees before him. You looked up at him through your lashes, yourr eyes filled with love and submission.

"Use me," you whispered, parting your lips in silent invitation.

Gojo's cock throbbed in your mouth, the velvety softness of your tongue driving him wild with lust. He gripped your hair, holding your in place as he rocked his hips forward, fucking your face with short, shallow thrusts.

"Fuck," he groaned, his head falling back in ecstasy. "Your mouth feels so good, baby. So fucking hot and wet and tight."

Meanwhile, Suguru was sprawled out on the kitchen floor, his face buried between your thighs. He lapped at your dripping cunt like a man starved, his tongue delving deep to taste your essence.

"Delicious," he murmured, the vibrations of his voice sending shivers of pleasure racing through your body. "Love the way you taste; love the way you squirm and moan for me."

your muffled cries around Gojo's cock grew louder, your knees beginning to tremble as Suguru worked your closer and closer to the edge. Your hands fisted in Gojo's thighs, nails digging into his flesh as she fought to maintain your balance.

Gojo could feel your struggles, could sense the impending explosion of pleasure building within your. He pulled out of your mouth with a wet pop, his cock slick with your saliva.

"Gonna make you cum so hard, baby," he promised, his voice rough with lust. "Gonna fill up that pretty little pussy, mark you as ours inside and out."

Suguru pulled away from your cunt with a last, long lick, his chin glistening with your juices. "Then what are we waiting for?" he asked, his eyes dark and predatory. "Take her."

Gojo's eyes gleamed with primal hunger as Suguru's words hung in the air. Without hesitation, he seized your hips and spun your around, bending your over a nearby countertop. His muscular thighs nudged your legs apart, exposing your glistening folds to his hungry gaze.

"You ready for this, love?" Gojo growled, notching the broad head of his cock against your entrance. "Ready to take everything I have to give you?"

You whimpered, your back arching as you pushed your hips back, desperate for more contact. "Please, Gojo," she gasped, your voice ragged with need. "Fill me up, make me yours."

Gojo obliged, slamming forward to bury himself to the hilt in one brutal thrust. your cried out, your nails scrabbling at the countertop as he stretched and filled you completely.

"That's it, take it," Gojo grunted, setting a punishing pace. "Take my cock like the good little slut you are."

Suguru moved to position himself next to Gojo, his hand snaking across to rub on your clit. He began rubbing it in time with Gojo's thrusts, adding extra stimulation to the already intense sensations.

"Harder," your demanded, your voice breathy and insistent. "Fuck me harder, Gojo. I can take it, I need it."

Gojo complied, his hips snapping forward with increasing force. The obscene sounds of flesh slapping against flesh echoed through the kitchen, mingling with your wanton moans and Gojo's guttural grunts.

Suguru's hand never faltered in its rhythmic flicking and rubbing of your clit. "Fuck, Gojo," he breathed, his lips brushing the shell of Gojo's ear. "Look at her, taking your cock. She's perfect, a goddamn dream."

Gojo groaned in agreement, sweat beading on his brow as he pounded into your willing body. "yn," he gasped, his thrusts growing more erratic as he neared his peak. "Shit, baby, you're so fucking tight. Gonna fill you up, make you mine."

Suguru reached around to palm Gojo's balls, rolling them in his palm as he felt the heavy sack draw up in preparation for release. "Do it," he urged, his voice low and filthy. "Paint her insides, mark her as our woman."

With a final, brutal thrust, Gojo buried himself as deep as he could go, his cock pulsing and twitching as he emptied his load into your spasming cunt. "Fuck, yes," he snarled, grinding his hips against your ass as he rode out the waves of pleasure.

Suguru stroked gojo''s cock, milking every last drop from Gojo's spent cock before gently easing him out of your clenching heat. "Beautiful," he murmured, watching as Gojo's cum leaked from your well-used hole.

Gojo slumped forward, his forearms braced on the countertop as he caught his breath. "Damn," he rasped, turning his head to shoot Suguru a lazy, satisfied smirk. " It's your turn, fuck her good, breed her."

Suguru's eyes glinted with a feral hunger as he stepped up behind you, his hands gripping your hips possessively. "You heard the man, baby," he growled, his voice low and rough with lust. "Time for me to fill you up, make you carry my child."

Gojo smirked, reaching out to tangle his fingers in your hair, forcing you to look at him. "You're gonna look so fucking sexy, you," he purred, his thumb brushing across your swollen lower lip. "All round and glowing with my baby. Can't wait to see you like that, love."

You whimpered, your eyes glazing over with love and desire. "Yes," you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper. "Yes, please. I want it, want both of you inside me, claiming me, filling me."

Suguru pressed forward, notching the head of his cock against your slick entrance. "You'll get exactly what you want, baby girl," he promised, his hips rocking forward to sink into your welcoming heat. "Gonna fuck you so deep, so hard, you'll be feeling it for days."

Gojo held you steady as Suguru began to move, his thrusts slow and deep, before gradually picking up speed. The room filled with the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh, punctuated by your breathy moans and the men's guttural grunts of pleasure.

Suguru's thrusts grew harder, faster, rougher, his breath coming in harsh pants as he chased his release. "Ngh, fuck, baby," he groaned, his voice strained with pleasure. "Shit, you feel so good, so fucking tight. Love being inside you, love filling you up."

His fingers dug into the meat of your hips, bruising your skin as he yanked you back onto his cock over and over again. The wet, obscene sounds of their coupling echoed through the l

Gojo watched them with hooded eyes, his hand still fisted in your hair as he forced you to look at him. "Such a good little breeder," he murmured, his thumb tracing the outline of your lips. "Can't wait to see this belly swell with our child, watch your tits get even bigger with milk."

You keened, your head thrown back in ecstasy as Suguru pounded into you. The image Gojo painted with his words, the filthy promises spilling from both their lips, combined to push you closer and closer to the edge.

"Please," you whimpered, your walls fluttering around Suguru's pistoning cock. "Please, Su, fill me up, give me your baby. Want it, want it so bad."

Suguru snarled, his hips stuttering as he neared his peak. "Gonna give it to you," he vowed, his rhythm growing erratic. "Gonna flood this pussy, make sure it takes. Knock you up nice and proper, just like you deserve."

Suguru's thrusts grew more frenzied, his hips snapping against you as he chased his rapidly approaching climax. "Ngh, fuck, baby," he panted, sweat beading on his brow. "Love the way you squeeze my cock, love the way you take it."

Gojo held you steady, his fingers gripping your hair as he watched the scene with rapt attention. "Don't run from it, baby girl," he purred, his thumb brushing across her swollen lower lip. "Embrace it, let us fill you up, make you ours in every possible way."

You whimpered, torn between the overwhelming pleasure and the fear of the unknown. "I-I don't know if I'm ready," you gasped, your walls fluttering around Suguru's pistoning cock. "It's just so much, so intense, I..."

Suguru pulled out abruptly, leaving you bereft and aching. "On your back, baby girl," he commanded, his voice low and authoritative. "Wanna see those pretty eyes when I fill you up, wanna watch the moment our baby is created."

With shaking limbs, you obeyed, flipping over onto your back and spreading your legs wide. Gojo moved to prop you up, his strong arms cradling you as he held you open for Suguru's viewing pleasure.

"Look at you," Suguru marvelled, his eyes dark with desire as he took in the sight of your glistening folds, flushed and swollen with arousal. "So fucking beautiful, so perfect. Gonna make you a mommy, yn. Gonna give you everything you've ever wanted."

Suguru positioned himself between your spread legs, his thick cock bobbing heavily as he gripped the base. "That's right, baby girl," he growled, rubbing the swollen head through your slick folds. "Gonna give you everything, fill you up until it takes."

He notched the blunt tip at your entrance, teasing you with shallow thrusts that had you writhing beneath him. Gojo held you steady, his hands roaming your body possessively as he watched Suguru's cock sink deeper and deeper into your welcoming heat.

"Fuck!" Suguru grunted, his hips snapping forward to bury himself fully in one smooth stroke. "Shit, you feel incredible, so fucking tight. Love being inside you, love the way you clench around me."

You keened, back arching off the counter as Suguru set a relentless pace. The wet, obscene sounds of their coupling filled the room, mingling with the savoury aroma of food long gone.

Gojo leaned down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your moans as Suguru drove into you again and again. "Our good girl," he praised, his voice low and rough. "Taking it so well, letting us use this pretty little pussy. Gonna fill you up."

Suguru's thrusts grew harder, more erratic as he neared his peak. "Ngh, fuck, gonna cum," he panted, his fingers digging into the meat of your thighs. "Gonna fill this cunt, make sure it takes."

Suguru's grip on your thighs tightened some more, his eyes blazing with determination as you tried to pull away. "No, baby girl, don't fight it," he growled, leaning over you, his chest pressing against your breasts as he pinned you in place. "Gonna give you what you need, what we both want. Trust me, let me fill you up like a good little breeder."

Gojo held your wrists, keeping you from scratching or pushing Suguru away as he continued his relentless pace. "That's it, yn," he cooed, his voice a sinful purr. "Take it, take everything he has to give you. Let us mark you, claim you, make you ours forever."

You whimpered, torn between the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your veins and the fear of the unknown. Your body betrayed you, hips rolling to meet Suguru's thrusts despite your attempts to resist.

"Please, Daddy," you gasped, her eyes glazed with lust and unshed tears. "It's too much, I don't know if I'm ready, if - ah!"

Suguru cut off your protests with a searing kiss, swallowing your whimpers as he plundered your mouth with his tongue. His hips never slowed, never faltered, driving into your welcoming heat with brutal precision.

Gojo leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. "Shh, baby girl," he soothed, even as his hands roamed your body possessively. "Let go, give yourself to us. Let us take care of you, fill you up with our seed."

Suguru paused, and said"Shh, baby girl, I've got you," he murmured, his voice low and soothing even as his cock throbbed within you. "Gonna make you feel so good, gonna fill you up so full of my cum you'll be dripping for days."

Gojo pressed closer, his hands cupping your breasts, thumbs flicking over your nipples. "That's it, baby, let it happen," he coaxed, his breath hot against your ear. "Don't fight it, just let go, let us take you there. We'll make it so good for you, love, promise."

You whimpered "P-please," you gasped, your hips twitching restlessly beneath Suguru's bulk. "I can't... it's too much, I... I..."

Suguru leaned down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. "I know, baby girl, I know," he whispered against your mouth. "But you can take it, you're so fucking strong. Let go, cum on my cock like a good girl. We'll catch you, I promise."

Gojo pinched and tugged at your nipples, sending jolts of electricity straight to your core. "Cum for us," he demanded, his voice rough with desire. "Now, love. Show us your pretty cum face.”

Suguru's hips snapped forward, driving his cock deep into your spasming cunt. "That's it, baby girl, cum for us," he growled, his voice low and filthy. "Milk my cock, squeeze me tight. Gonna flood this pussy, fill you up so good."

You wailed, back arching as the orgasm tore through you. Wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you, drowning you in sensation. Your walls clenched and fluttered around Suguru's pistoning length, the friction sending him hurtling towards his release.

Suguru pistoned his hips, his thrusts growing erratic as he neared his peak. "Gonna cum," he snarled, "Gonna fill this cunt, make sure it takes. Knock you up nice and proper, just like you deserve."

With a final, brutal thrust, Suguru buried himself to the hilt, his cock pulsing and twitching as he emptied his load deep inside your welcoming heat. His seed spurted out in powerful jets, painting your walls white as he claimed her, marked you as his.

Gojo held you steady, his strong arms cradling you as you shuddered and moaned through the aftershocks of you cumming.

Suguru collapsed on top of you, his hips still nestled deep within your cum-filled cunt. "Fuck" he panted, his forehead pressed against yours as he struggled to catch his breath. "So fucking good, baby girl. Love being inside you, love filling you up."

Gojo ran his hands over your body, soothing and caressing as you trembled beneath their touch. "Look at you," he murmured, his voice low and reverent. "So perfect, so beautiful. Our good girl, taking everything we give you."

You whimpered, her walls fluttering weakly around Suguru's softening cock. The sensation of being so full, of feeling his seed sloshing inside her, was overwhelming in the best possible way. "It's so much," she gasped, her voice thick with satisfaction and exhaustion. "So deep, so hot..."

Suguru chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest. "That's because I pumped you full, baby girl," he purred, nipping at her bottom lip. "Gave you every last drop, made sure it took. You're going to bloom so beautifully, yn, watching your belly swell with our child..."

Gojo captured your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing her moan as Suguru shifted slightly, his cock stirring the cum inside her. "Mmm, and when you do," he promised against her mouth, "we'll take care of you, worship this body, keep you full of our seed."

Suguru pulled out slowly, a low groan escaping him as he watched his cum leak out of your abused hole. "Fuck, look at that," he growled,

"So fucking hot, the way you take my load, baby girl. Marked you deep inside, filled you up so good."

He reached down, scooping some of the excess seed from her thighs before bringing his fingers to her lips. "Clean up the mess you made," he commanded, his voice low and rough. "Show me how much you love tasting our cum."

Your parted her lips obediently, her tongue darting out to lick Suguru's fingers clean. The taste of their mixed fluids - musky and slightly salty - coated her tongue, sending another shiver of desire through her overstimulated body.

[sherewrytes]

𝔹𝕣𝕠𝕜𝕖𝕟 ℙ𝕚𝕖𝕔𝕖𝕤, ℝ𝕪𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕟 𝕊𝕦𝕜𝕦𝕟𝕒 13

↳ Sukuna x f! black reader

Summary: After the death of his grandfather, Sukuna Ryomen is left to shoulder the weight of his family, caring for his younger brothers, Yuuji and Choso. As he withdraws into grief, his relationship with Y/N, his girlfriend of a year, begins to crumble. When Y/N discovers the truth about his grandfather’s passing during a heated argument, it leads to a painful breakup. Now, both are navigating life apart, but Sukuna’s heart aches for Y/N. Determined to win her back, he must confront his pain and find a way to break through the walls he’s built. Can he rekindle their love, or is it too late?

contents: heavy angst, modern au, 18+, smut, dark romance, drug use, talks of depression and similar topics. (a lil )

fic warnings. ooc, profanity, mental health issues, toxic relationships, cheating, explicit smut, serious drug use, mentions of depression + more to be updated as story progresses.

Please read with proper discretion. this is a work of fiction. all characters are written to portray roles that are necessary to the plot and are in no way a reflection of their canon counterparts.

Taglist: @for-hearthand-home@clp-84@thelightknight21@favvkiki @helightknight21@dylsw@ria-s-writes@sleepymothafterhours@sukunasstomachtongue@cosmic-lovr@imm0rtalbutterfly@kyo-kyo1 @choppersworlds-blog

if you wanna be added to the tag list comment

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Just something light this week. think of it as a lil rest point :)

YN POV

I gripped the steering wheel a little tighter as I drove, my thoughts racing. I could still feel the heat from the night before, a mix of pleasure and guilt that clung to me like a second skin. I knew I shouldn’t have crossed that line with Toji. It was just... too much. Everything about it felt wrong, but it had happened, and now I couldn’t erase it.

As I turned the corner, I spotted Geto and Gojo’s car coming down the street. My heart skipped a beat when I saw them, but I tried not to show it. I wasn’t sure what to feel anymore. I glanced over at their car as I drove past them, and to my surprise, they both waved at me.

I hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do, before I forced a small, awkward wave back. I didn’t want them to think I was avoiding them—especially not Geto. But the truth was, I felt a little too exposed, like my whole world was suddenly on display.

As I drove away, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched. It wasn’t just because I had seen them in the rearview mirror, but because I knew exactly what they were probably thinking. And it only made the guilt grow heavier.

What the hell am I doing? I asked myself, the question echoing in my head. The night with Toji hadn’t meant anything in the long run. Or at least, that’s what I kept telling myself.

But the truth was, I wasn’t sure anymore. I had tried to let go of Sukuna—tried to move on—but nothing ever really felt right. And now, with Toji, I was left questioning everything.

I shook my head, trying to push the thoughts away, but they lingered, swirling in my mind like smoke. As I drove back to my apartment, I couldn’t stop thinking about what happened last night, about the mess I had created. Was this my fault? Or had I been trying too hard to convince myself I didn’t still have feelings for Sukuna?

I pulled into the parking lot and parked, still lost in my thoughts. I could barely focus on anything else. I needed answers, but I wasn’t sure where to look. And as much as I hated to admit it, I knew I wasn’t going to get them without facing the truth about myself.

I made my way upstairs, feeling the weight of everything settle on me as I stepped into my apartment. I dropped my bag on the couch and stood there for a moment, staring into the quiet space. My mind was a jumbled mess, but I couldn’t let it consume me right now. I had plans—hair and nails before class—and I needed the distraction.

I grabbed a fresh set of clothes and headed into the bathroom, turning on the shower. The sound of the water hitting the tiles filled the room, and I let out a deep sigh. Stripping off my clothes, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My reflection stared back at me, a mix of emotions swirling in my eyes.

Stepping into the hot spray of the shower, I let the water run over me, hoping it would wash away the remnants of guilt clinging to me. As I scrubbed my skin, my thoughts drifted back to Toji and the way his hands felt, the way he looked at me like I was something he wanted. But I couldn’t ignore the nagging voice in the back of my head reminding me of Sukuna.

After rinsing off, I wrapped myself in a towel and began my post-shower routine, focusing on the familiar motions to keep my mind busy. By the time I was dressed and ready to head out, I felt a little more centered.

I checked the time, grabbed my keys, and headed out. My first stop was my nail appointment. Sitting in the chair while the tech worked on my hands gave me more time to think than I wanted. My phone buzzed a few times, but I ignored it for now. I didn’t feel like talking to anyone, especially not about what was on my mind.

Next, it was off to my hair appointment. I sat under the dryer, scrolling aimlessly on my phone while my stylist worked her magic. By the time she was done, I felt like a new person—or at least I looked like one.

With a few hours left before my evening class, I decided to grab something to eat and sit in my car for a while, enjoying the quiet. It was peaceful, but the weight of everything hadn’t lifted. If anything, it was heavier now. I knew I couldn’t keep running from it, but for now, I just wanted to pretend I could.

I ran my fingers through my freshly silk-pressed hair, appreciating how smooth it felt. It had been a while since I’d gone for a silk press, but it felt right to switch it up today. Maybe it was my subconscious way of trying to feel refreshed or renewed.

Grabbing my bag, I made my way to class. The campus was alive with its usual hum of students walking, chatting, or studying. I found myself walking slower than usual, savoring the calm before the storm of coursework.

Settling into my seat in the lecture hall, I pulled out my notebook and decided to check my phone while waiting for the professor. My messages were a mix of friends checking in, updates from my group project chat, and reminders from my calendar. As I scrolled, I noticed a text from Toji:

Toji: Hey. You good?

I stared at it for a moment, unsure how to respond. It wasn’t much, just two words, but it carried the weight of everything that happened last night. Part of me wanted to ignore it, but the other part knew I couldn’t leave him hanging.

Me: Yeah, I’m fine. Just busy. You?

I locked my phone and placed it facedown on my desk, trying to focus on anything else. My professor walked in, and the lecture began, but my mind kept drifting back to that text. Every vibration of my phone pulled at my attention, but I refused to check it.

Class dragged on, and by the time it was over, I felt more restless than when I’d walked in. As I gathered my things, I finally gave in and checked my phone again. Toji had replied.

Toji: Same. Let me know if you need anything, alright?

I sighed, my fingers hesitating over the keyboard. After a moment, I typed back:

Me: Will do. Thanks.

I left it at that and headed out, my thoughts spinning. Whatever this was with Toji, it felt like walking a tightrope. One wrong move, and everything could come crashing down.

I barely made it out of the lecture hall before I ran into Mei Mei and Shoko waiting for me. They both had that knowing look, like they’d been up to something or waiting to pounce. I tried to slip past them, but Mei Mei was too quick.

"Y/N," she started, narrowing her eyes at me. "Is that a hickey?"

My hand immediately went to my neck, where my scarf had shifted slightly. Damn it. I forgot to double-check that before leaving class.

Mei Mei raised a brow, smirking. "Sukuna's out of the hospital already? I didn’t think they’d let him go so soon."

I froze, guilt flashing across my face. "It… wasn’t Sukuna," I mumbled, avoiding eye contact.

That caught their attention immediately. Shoko’s eyes widened, and she leaned closer. "Wait, if it wasn’t Sukuna… then who—?"

"It was Toji," I admitted quickly, hoping to rip the Band-Aid off.

There was a pause. Then Mei Mei tilted her head, looking me over like she was trying to piece together a puzzle. "Excuse me, repeat that for me."

I sighed, wishing the ground would just swallow me up. "It was Toji, okay? Last night."

Shoko’s jaw dropped, and she blinked at me like she couldn’t process what I just said. "You hooked up with Sukuna’s best friend? Toji Zenin? Are you out of your mind?"

Mei Mei let out a low whistle, crossing her arms. "That’s a bold move. Even for you."

"It just… happened," I muttered, feeling defensive under their stares. "I wasn’t planning on it. It’s not like I’m proud of it."

Shoko ran a hand through her hair, looking equal parts amused and horrified. "Y/N, do you know how bad this could blow up? Sukuna’s already barely holding it together, and if he finds out about this—"

"I know, okay?" I snapped, cutting her off. "I know it’s messy. I don’t need you both reminding me."

Mei Mei’s smirk returned, but it was sharper now, almost teasing. "Messy doesn’t even begin to cover it. But hey, if you’re ready to handle the fallout, I’ll grab the popcorn."

"Not helping, Mei Mei," Shoko muttered before turning back to me. "Y/N, seriously, what are you doing? Are you trying to move on, or are you just running from the guilt?"

I looked away, feeling cornered. "Maybe a little of both," I admitted softly.

Mei Mei shook her head but didn’t press further. Shoko sighed, putting a hand on my shoulder. "Whatever this is, just be careful. Sukuna isn't going to take this well. And Toji… well, he’s Toji."

I nodded, but their words lingered as I walked away. Deep down, I knew they were right. This wasn’t just messy—it was a ticking time bomb.

I wasn’t sure what I was going to do about any of this, but one thing was clear: I needed a smoke and a relaxing night with friends for once. No drama, no overthinking, just a breather to clear my head.

After stopping by the convenience store to grab a pack, I shot a quick text to Shoko. She always knew where to go when you wanted a lowkey night without too many prying eyes. Within a few minutes, she responded with an address.

Shoko: Meet us at the usual spot. Don’t be late.

By "us," I figured Mei Mei would be there too, probably dragging along whoever she convinced to buy her drinks tonight. Part of me didn’t want to face their probing looks again, but I also knew they’d let me vent once the drinks started flowing.

I got to the spot, a dimly lit bar tucked away from the main street, where Shoko and Mei Mei were already seated in a booth. Shoko waved me over, her cigarette perched lazily between her fingers.

"About time," she said, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "Thought you’d chickened out."

"Yeah, right," I muttered, sliding into the booth. "I just needed a minute."

Mei Mei grinned, pushing a glass toward me. "Here. Consider this your entrance fee for entertaining us tonight."

I raised an eyebrow but took the glass anyway, sipping as I let the warm burn of the alcohol settle my nerves.

"So," Mei Mei started, leaning back with that smug look she always wore when she was about to stir the pot. "Are we gonna talk about the Zenin-sized elephant in the room, or are we pretending it didn’t happen?"

I groaned, already regretting this. "Can we not?"

Shoko chuckled, stubbing out her cigarette. "You came to us, Y/N. You knew what you were signing up for."

"Fine," I said, taking another sip. "It was a mistake. A one-time thing. I shouldn’t have done it, and I don’t plan on doing it again."

"Sure," Mei Mei said, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Because people always hook up with their ex’s best friend just once. Totally sustainable."

I shot her a look, but Shoko cut in before I could respond. "Let her breathe, Mei. She’s clearly got enough on her plate."

Mei Mei shrugged but didn’t press further, instead lighting another cigarette.

For the first time that day, I felt myself relax a little. The drinks flowed, the conversation turned to safer topics, and the weight on my chest lightened—if only slightly. I wasn’t sure what tomorrow would bring, but for tonight, I just wanted to feel normal again.

Utahime slid into the seat across from us, setting her coffee down and eyeing everyone curiously. “So, what’s the latest?” she asked, her tone light but expectant.

Mei Mei didn’t miss a beat, leaning back in her chair with that sly smirk she always wore. “Oh, you didn’t hear?” she drawled, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. “Y/N fucked Toji while Sukuna’s in the psych ward.”

The casual delivery hit like a bomb.

Utahime froze, her wine glass halfway to her lips. Mei Mei then continued“...Crazy,” she muttered, her voice flat. “I know.”

The silence that followed was deafening, the weight of Mei Mei’s words settling over the table like a storm cloud.

I nearly choked on my drink as Mei Mei said it loud enough to catch the attention of a nearby table. Utahime’s eyes widened, and her mouth fell open slightly before she quickly composed herself.

"You’re joking," she said, though the disbelief in her tone made it clear she knew Mei Mei wasn’t.

Mei Mei leaned back with a smirk, enjoying the chaos she’d just stirred. "Dead serious. It’s like some messy soap opera, and I’m absolutely here for it."

I groaned, covering my face with my hands. "Can we not talk about this right now?"

"Oh, no, we’re definitely talking about it," Utahime said, leaning forward. "What the hell were you thinking?"

"I wasn’t," I muttered, slumping further into my seat. "It just… happened."

"It just happened?" Utahime repeated, her tone incredulous. "Y/N, that’s your ex’s best friend. Do you know how bad this is going to blow up if Sukuna finds out?"

Shoko, ever the chill one, blew out a puff of smoke and waved a hand. "Let her breathe, Utahime. It’s done. She already knows it was a bad idea."

"Bad idea doesn’t even begin to cover it," Utahime said, shaking her head. "This is like… catastrophic. Nuclear."

"Alright, we get it," I snapped, the guilt bubbling up to the surface again. "I don’t need the lecture. I already feel bad enough."

Mei Mei chuckled, swirling her drink lazily. "Relax, Y/N. Utahime’s just jealous because her life isn’t nearly as exciting."

Utahime shot her a glare. "This isn’t about excitement. This is about common sense!"

"Okay, okay," Shoko interrupted, raising her hands like a referee. "Let’s not turn this into an intervention. We came here to drink, not argue."

The table fell into an uneasy silence for a moment before Mei Mei raised her glass. "To messy decisions and even messier consequences."

Shoko clinked her glass against Mei Mei’s with a small smirk, and Utahime sighed but eventually joined in. I hesitated for a moment before lifting my own glass.

"Cheers," I muttered, though the knot in my stomach told me this was far from over.

Just then, I heard Utahime mutter under her breath, “Well, what a night this is.”

I followed her gaze, and sure enough, there they were—Gojo, Geto, and Toji, walking into the same place like they owned it.

Gojo, of course, made a beeline straight for Nanami, his voice carrying as he teased him about something. Nanami didn’t hesitate, smacking him upside the head without missing a beat.

But it wasn’t Gojo who held my attention.

Toji.

Like he could feel the weight of my stare, Toji turned, his sharp green eyes locking onto mine. The moment stretched, charged and heavy.

Then Gojo said something, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife, and Toji’s gaze shifted, breaking away from mine as he turned to respond.

Still, the moment lingered, the air between us buzzing with things better left unsaid.

The tension in the air was immediate, thick enough to cut with a knife. Toji’s gaze lingered on me for a split second longer than I could handle before Gojo said something that made him laugh and look away.

Utahime leaned over, whispering under her breath, “Well, isn’t this just the cherry on top?”

I rolled my eyes and sipped my drink, trying to act like I hadn’t noticed them. But Mei Mei, of course, couldn’t help herself. “Oh, this is gonna be fun.”

“Don’t,” I warned, but she only grinned, her eyes following the group as they made their way to a booth on the other side of the bar.

Geto spotted us first, his dark eyes scanning the table before giving a small wave. He leaned over to whisper something to Gojo, who immediately perked up and turned to look in our direction.

“Oh no,” I muttered, sinking lower in my seat.

Gojo didn’t hesitate, practically bouncing over to our table. “Ladies, what a pleasant surprise!”

Nanami reluctantly followed, his face already set in a scowl. “Can’t you go one night without causing a scene, Gojo?”

Shoko smirked, blowing out another puff of smoke. “And miss the chance to bother us? Never.”

Toji stayed at the booth, his back to us, but I could feel his presence like a weight pressing against my chest. He was trying to act indifferent, but I knew better.

“So, what’s the occasion?” Gojo asked, leaning over Utahime and making her shove him back with an annoyed glare.

“Girl’s night,” Mei Mei said smoothly, her smile sharp. “Though it seems we've crashed.”

“Crashing’s what I do best,” Gojo replied with a grin. “Mind if we join you?”

“Actually—” I started, but Mei Mei cut me off.

“Not at all,” she said, pulling out an empty chair.

Utahime gave her a look, but Mei Mei just shrugged. “Might as well make it interesting.”

As Gojo plopped into the chair, dragging Nanami with him, I glanced over at Toji again. He still hadn’t turned around, but I could see his shoulders tense as Geto leaned down to whisper something in his ear.

This night was about to get a lot more complicated.

Geto walked over, his calm and measured demeanor a stark contrast to Gojo’s boisterous energy. He leaned casually against the table, his eyes briefly scanning everyone before settling on Shoko.

“Everything good here?” he asked her, his tone light but pointed.

Shoko exhaled a plume of smoke, offering him a small smirk. “Better now that you’re here. Gojo’s already doing the most.”

Geto chuckled, sparing Gojo a quick glance. “When isn’t he?”

Meanwhile, Toji hadn’t moved an inch. He remained at the booth, one hand resting on the table, the other loosely holding a glass. His body language screamed indifference, but I knew better.

Utahime leaned closer to me, whispering under her breath. “You okay?”

I nodded quickly, though my heart felt like it was pounding in my throat. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Mei Mei, of course, was watching the whole thing like it was her personal entertainment. “He’s not even looking over here,” she said with a sly grin. “Bet you a drink he’s dying to.”

“Mei, stop,” I hissed, glaring at her.

Shoko snorted softly but didn’t add to the commentary. Instead, she turned her attention to Geto, who seemed more interested in her than the tension bubbling beneath the surface.

“Are you staying over there with the brooding statue, or are you joining the chaos?” Shoko asked, raising an eyebrow at Geto.

He smirked. “Maybe I’m here to keep the chaos contained.”

“Good luck with that,” Shoko replied dryly, gesturing toward Gojo, who was now dramatically complaining to Nanami about something.

I couldn’t help but glance at Toji again, hoping for some sort of acknowledgment. But he stayed where he was, unmoving, like he was determined to act like I wasn’t even here.

Maybe that was for the best.

Toji’s POV

I could feel her eyes on me. The weight of her stare made my skin prickle, but I stayed put, pretending not to notice. Geto had been shooting me side-eyes since we walked in, and Gojo wasn’t helping, his loud ass already making a scene with Nanami.

I took another sip from my glass, the liquor burning just enough to keep me grounded. Y/N’s laugh drifted over from her table, soft and melodic, but it made my chest tighten. I’d spent the whole day trying to avoid thinking about her, and now here she was, looking like she didn’t have a care in the world while I was over here replaying last night in my head like a goddamn idiot.

Geto glanced back at me briefly as he chatted with Shoko, a knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He was dying to call me out, I could see it in his face. Gojo, too, though he was too distracted by his usual antics to say anything—yet.

My fingers tightened around the glass.

“Man, you’ve been quiet since we got here,” Gojo finally said, sliding into the booth across from me with his usual shit-eating grin. “Something eating at you, Toji?”

“Yeah,” I replied dryly, setting my glass down. “You.”

Gojo laughed, loud enough to turn a few heads. “Nah, I don’t think that’s it. You’ve got that look. You know, the one you get when you’ve done something reckless.”

“Gojo,” I warned, my voice low.

He leaned forward, unbothered. “So? What’s her name?”

I glared at him, but his grin only widened. Before I could tell him to back off, Geto returned, pulling up a chair and cutting into the tension like he always did.

“Relax, Toji,” he said smoothly. “Gojo’s just being nosy.”

Gojo shot him a look. “Like you’re not?”

Geto ignored him, lighting a cigarette and taking a slow drag before glancing over his shoulder. His gaze flicked to Y/N’s table, then back to me.

“You know,” he started, blowing out the smoke, “this whole ‘acting like nothing happened’ thing doesn’t suit you.”

I tensed. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Geto said, his tone calm but pointed. “We all saw her leave this morning. You’re not as subtle as you think.”

Gojo’s eyebrows shot up, and he leaned back, laughing. “Oh-ho, that’s why you’ve been sulking all day.”

“Shut up,” I muttered, my patience wearing thin.

“Hey, man, I’m just saying,” Gojo said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “If you’re gonna hook up with Y/N while Sukuna’s in the psych ward, at least don’t look so guilty about it.”

The mention of Sukuna sent a pang of unease through me, but I kept my face neutral.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said flatly, finishing my drink in one swallow.

Gojo laughed again, and Geto just shook his head, his eyes sharp as ever.

“Keep telling yourself that,” Geto said. “But if I were you, I’d figure out what the hell you’re doing before this all blows up in your face.”

I didn’t respond, didn’t trust myself to say anything that wouldn’t give too much away. Instead, I flagged down the waitress for another drink, determined to drown out the sound of Y/N’s laugh echoing in my head.

I leaned back in my seat, nursing my drink as I watched everyone else make their way to Y/N’s table. Geto slid in smoothly, immediately starting up a conversation with Shoko. Gojo was his usual self, loud and obnoxious, leaning into Utahime’s space just to get a reaction. Even Nanami looked like he was being dragged into their chaos against his will.

But me? Nah. I wasn’t going over there.

I swirled the amber liquid in my glass, letting the burn of it settle in my chest. Y/N was laughing again, and I hated how it made me feel. Like I was chasing something I had no business reaching for.

“Still sitting here, huh?”

I glanced up to see Geto standing over me, cigarette in hand and that damn knowing smirk on his face.

“What do you want?” I muttered, setting my glass down.

Geto raised an eyebrow. “You’re making it obvious, you know. Sulking over here while everyone else is over there. It’s not a good look.”

“I’m not sulking,” I shot back, though I wasn’t sure who I was trying to convince.

He chuckled, taking a slow drag from his cigarette before flicking the ash into a nearby tray. ��Whatever you say, man. But you’re not fooling anyone. Especially her.”

My jaw tightened, and I didn’t respond. Geto shrugged and turned back toward the group, but not before tossing a final remark over his shoulder.

“Just remember, Toji—whatever game you think you’re playing, Sukuna’s not the only one watching.”

I watched him join the table, sliding into the conversation like he’d been there all along. My gaze flicked to Y/N for a split second, just long enough to catch her looking at me before she turned away.

Damn it.

I downed the rest of my drink and ordered another. Maybe if I stayed here long enough, the whiskey would drown out the mess I’d gotten myself into.

[sherewrytes]

ꜰʀᴀᴄᴛᴜʀᴇᴅ Gojo x Black Fem reader 5

↳ Satoru Gojo x f! black reader

In Tokyo's underground music scene, Exxor is on the verge of global fame, but beneath the glitz, emotions run wild. Lead singer Satoru Gojo shines in the spotlight, while bassist Suguru Geto battles his dark past and unspoken love for Y/N, a rising fashion designer. Their shared history is fraught with tension, especially now that Y/N is falling for Gojo. As her career catapults her into the global fashion arena, old feelings resurface, threatening to unravel the band and their fragile friendships. Can they navigate the chaos of fame, or will their secrets tear them apart?

Genre: Romantic Drama, Psychological Fiction

Content warnings:

Substance Abuse, Toxic Relationships, Unrequited Love, Mental Health Issues, Slight drug use

Playlist

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Comment if you wanna join the taglist

Chapter 5:

Suguru's POV

I took the nameless girl back to my place. We didn’t talk much—there wasn’t really a need to. It was mechanical, detached. Just bodies moving together with no real connection. Afterward, she fell asleep almost immediately, sprawled across my bed as if she owned it.

I couldn’t sleep. My mind was too loud, drowning me in everything I tried so hard to avoid. So, I grabbed a cigarette, headed to the balcony, and lit up. The first drag hit like a wave, momentarily numbing the edges of my thoughts.

Leaning on the railing, I pulled out my phone and started scrolling Instagram, anything to distract myself. That’s when I saw it.

Gojo’s private account. Not the public one for the band—the one he used for his personal life, where he posted the real shit. A carousel of pictures stared back at me.

The first one was of him and Y/N. She was laughing, her head thrown back, her hand gripping his arm like he’d just said the funniest thing in the world. He looked smug, his sunglasses pushed up onto his head, his arm slung casually around her shoulders.

The next picture was of Y/N and Zavier, her usual photographer, reviewing shots on his camera. She looked radiant, her smile soft and genuine. The kind of smile I hadn’t seen from her in a while.

The last one? It was just Gojo, holding one of her designs—a jacket with intricate detailing, her signature all over it.

The caption read, “Creative genius at work"

🎨✨ Obsydian’s finest. Can’t wait for y’all to see what she’s cooking up.”

I stared at the photos, my chest tightening with every swipe. My cigarette burned down to the filter, but I didn’t notice until the heat nipped at my fingers. I cursed under my breath, stubbing it out on the balcony beside me.

What the fuck was I doing? Sitting here, miserable and spiraling, while she was out there thriving. With him.

I hated how jealous I felt. How bitter it made me to see her smiling with Gojo like that. I hated that I couldn’t get her out of my head, no matter how many times I tried to bury her with meaningless hookups and cheap highs.

But most of all, I hated myself for letting it get this far. For pushing her away when all I wanted was to pull her closer.

I tossed my phone onto the table and ran a hand through my hair, exhaling a shaky breath. The city lights stretched out before me, but they felt cold, distant. Just like everything else in my life.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I wondered if I’d ever feel whole again—or if I’d already lost the one person who made me feel that way.

I got a text from YN saying model rehersals are starting soon Su.. need you. I sighed and took another drag trying to clear my head

I stared at the text, the words glowing on the screen like a spotlight on my internal mess.

Model rehearsals are starting soon, Su. Need you.

She always did that—used that nickname like it meant something, like it didn’t cut me every time. I sighed and took another drag from my cigarette, letting the smoke fill my lungs before exhaling slowly. The nicotine was supposed to help, supposed to calm me down, but it wasn’t doing shit.

My thumb hovered over the keyboard, thinking of something to say. Something casual. Something that wouldn’t give away how badly I wanted to show up, to be the one she could count on.

But my head was spinning. The carousel of Gojo’s photos was still burned into the back of my mind, the easy way he fit into her life, her world. The world I’d pushed myself out of because I was too much of a fucking coward to figure out what I wanted—or maybe because I already knew and didn’t think I deserved it.

I leaned against the balcony railing, staring out at the city. The wind felt sharp against my skin, but I welcomed it. Anything to cut through the haze of emotions I couldn’t name and didn’t want to deal with.

Sure I’ll be there soon, I eventually typed back. Simple, straight to the point. No emotion.

I hit send before I could overthink it, but my chest still tightened. She needed me, and I hated how much that meant to me. Hated how easily I folded when it came to her.

I took one last drag, stubbing the cigarette out in the ashtray before heading back inside. The girl from earlier was still passed out on my bed, oblivious to everything.

I grabbed my jacket and my car keys, glancing at her one last time. I didn’t feel anything—no guilt, no attachment, no regret. Just a hollow emptiness that followed me out the door and into the night.

If I couldn’t figure out how to let her go, the least I could do was keep pretending I could handle staying.

Her text hit me harder than I wanted to admit. I stared at the screen, her words sinking in.

Stop smoking. I know you're up smoking these hours. How are you supposed to sing lead one day if you smoke out your lungs? I responded with a simple roll-eye emoji, not in the mood to argue. Her next text came almost instantly: Gojo was great tonight for the shoot, but I missed having you there.

That one lingered, the words burning into my mind like the cigarette I just put out. I missed having you there.

What did that even mean? Was it just work, or did she mean more? Did she even realize what she did to me with texts like that? Probably not. She was just being her—casual, sweet, and so fucking oblivious to how much space she took up in my head.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair and leaning back against the wall of the balcony. The city was quiet, the kind of quiet that didn’t feel peaceful, just empty.

I typed back: Good for him. Seems like you don’t need me as much these days.

I hesitated before sending it. It felt…petty. But fuck it, I was feeling petty.

I hit send and immediately regretted it, but I didn’t try to take it back. If she wanted to dance around Gojo being her go-to guy now, then I wasn’t going to sit here pretending it didn’t bother me.

The response didn’t come right away. It didn’t come at all for a few minutes, and I started pacing, regretting every word I’d sent. But then my phone buzzed again.

Don't be like that, Su. You know no one does it like you.

And just like that, I was back where I always was with her—caught somewhere between wanting to hold onto her and wanting to push her away.

The girl from earlier stirred behind me, and before I could react, her arms wrapped around my waist. She pressed against my back, her warmth almost jarring after the cold night air.

She looked up at me with a sleepy smile, her eyes half-lidded but playful. “What are you doing out here all alone?” I sighed, letting my phone drop onto the balcony railing. I wasn’t in the mood for small talk or lingering moments, but she was here, and maybe I could use the distraction.

“Round 2?” I asked, tilting my head toward her, my voice flat but suggestive.

Her smile widened, and she nodded. “If you can keep up.” I chuckled dryly, pushing off the railing and letting her lead me back inside. The cigarette stubbed out beneath my foot, the city’s cold fading as the door shut behind us.

I didn’t want to think about YN’s text or Gojo’s damn photos. I didn’t want to feel the ache in my chest every time her name crossed my mind. Tonight, I could drown it all out. At least for a little while.

I woke up alone. Thank God. The sheets were a mess, and my head felt heavy, but at least I didn’t have to deal with awkward small talk or pretending to care about someone else’s morning plans. I stretched, cracking my neck as I rolled out of bed and shuffled toward the bathroom.

After relieving myself, I brushed my teeth, splashed cold water on my face, and stared at my reflection in the mirror. My eyes were bloodshot, and the faint smell of last night’s cigarettes still clung to me. Lovely.

I grabbed my phone off the counter and unlocked it, seeing a text from Kento. "I'm downstairs. When you wake up, bring your stupid ass down here." I frowned, running a hand through my messy hair. Kento never showed up unannounced unless it was serious.

Pulling on a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie, I trudged downstairs to the living room. Sure enough, there he was, sitting on my couch like he owned the place, scrolling through his phone with a cup of coffee from my machine in hand. “You’re making yourself at home, I see,” I muttered, my voice still hoarse from sleep.

Kento looked up, his expression unreadable as usual, but there was something in his eyes that told me I wasn’t getting off easy today. “Sit down,” he said, nodding toward the chair across from him.

I groaned but did as he said, slumping into the seat. “What’s so urgent you had to invade my space before breakfast?” Kento leaned forward, setting his coffee down on the table. “We need to talk about YN. And before you even think about dodging, you’re going to listen.”

My jaw tightened, but I didn’t argue. I knew better than to try to out-stubborn Kento. Kento sighed heavily, rubbing the bridge of his nose like he was trying to massage away the frustration. He shifted in his seat, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"Shoko's been asking questions ever since YN showed up at rehearsals. Gojo's been asking me questions, too. You need to sort yourself out with her, Suguru," he said, his tone calm but firm. "She's moved on."

I felt a jolt in my chest. The words stung harder than I expected. I crossed my arms tightly, trying to shield myself from what I knew was coming.

I didn't want to hear it, but I couldn’t exactly shut it out either. "And so what?" I snapped, trying to push the ache out of my voice. "I’m just supposed to forget her? Forget everything? Forget that I… that I’ve loved her for years, Ken. Years."

I watched Kento’s expression soften, but his gaze didn’t waver from mine. He didn’t respond right away, like he was measuring his next words. I hated when he did that, like he was picking apart my emotions with the precision of a surgeon. Finally, he spoke again, his voice lower, quieter.

"She doesn’t love you," he said, bluntly, but there was hesitation there. "Fuck… I mean, not like that."

I froze. For a moment, my world seemed to stop, and all I could hear was the ringing silence in my head. The words echoed around my brain, bouncing off the walls, settling somewhere deep where I didn’t want them.

She doesn’t love you.

It felt like someone had knocked the wind out of me. I wanted to yell at him, to tell him he was wrong, but I couldn't. He wasn’t wrong, I knew it. I had known it for a while now, but hearing it out loud made it hurt in ways I couldn't explain.

I stood up abruptly, "Thanks, Ken," I said through clenched teeth, trying to keep my voice from breaking. My hands were shaking, but I kept them at my sides, gripping my fingers into fists to stop it. I didn’t want him to see me like this.

Kento’s face softened slightly, and he opened his mouth like he was going to say something else, but I didn’t wait to hear it. I turned and walked toward the stairs, my footsteps loud and deliberate. The urge to escape was overwhelming, like if I stayed in the same room with him for another second, I might snap.

"Suguru, wait," Kento called, his voice lower now, more concerned. I didn’t turn around.

But I couldn’t stay. I couldn’t look him in the eye when I knew he was right, when I knew the truth that I had been running from. She moved on, and I was still stuck here, pretending like things could be different. Pretending like I could be different.

The stairs creaked under my feet as I made my way up, the weight of everything pressing down on me. I just needed space. Space to breathe, to think, and to figure out how to deal with the fact that I wasn’t the one she chose. That I had lost her, maybe even before I realized it.

When I finally reached the top of the stairs, I slammed my bedroom door shut behind me. I stood there for a second, hands on the door, breathing heavily. It was like the walls of the room were closing in on me, and I couldn’t get away fast enough. But I had no idea where to go from here. No idea how to fix this.

The silence in the room felt suffocating. I collapsed onto the bed, not bothering to take off my clothes or my shoes. My phone buzzed in my pocket, but I ignored it. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. Didn’t want to hear anyone’s words of encouragement or advice.

I was tired of hearing people tell me to move on, as if it were that easy. But deep down, I knew they were right. YN had moved on. And I… I was still stuck here, lost in something I could never get back.

I closed my eyes, squeezing them shut, trying to block out the thoughts that kept swirling in my head. She doesn’t love you. She’s moved on. You’re just holding on to something that was never yours to begin with.

I knew Kento was just trying to help, but right now, all his words felt like salt in a wound that wouldn’t heal. I rolled over onto my side, burying my face in the pillow, trying to drown out the noise, the pain, the confusion. I wanted to shut it all out. I wanted to forget about her, but the harder I tried, the more she lingered in my mind.

And no matter how much I told myself to move on, a part of me would always be stuck in the past, holding on to something that was never meant to be.

YN POV

I left the band’s recording studio, clutching my bag tightly, and made my way to the Obsydian set, trying to shake off the lingering tension from earlier. There was always something heavy about being in the same room as Suguru these days, but I couldn’t let that distract me. Work came first.

By the time I arrived at the shoot location, my team was already buzzing around, setting up lights, backdrops, and props. It was organized chaos, and I thrived in it. Gojo showed up shortly after, still grinning from ear to ear like he hadn’t just left band practice.

“Thanks for filling in at the last minute, Satoru,” I said as he approached, his white hair catching the afternoon light.

“Anything for you, boss,” he teased with a wink.

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t help the small smile tugging at my lips. “Alright, let’s get you ready.”

Just as I was about to lead him to the changing area, Utahime walked in. She gave me a polite nod, her dark hair pulled back neatly, her makeup already done to perfection.

“Utahime, hey! Perfect timing,” I said, gesturing for her to follow.

The changing area was set up with racks of clothes meticulously organized by look and accessories laid out on a table. I handed Gojo his first outfit: high-waisted distressed pants in a rich navy blue. The pants were avant-garde to the core, with exaggerated, asymmetrical distressing that revealed hints of a sleek black fabric lining underneath. They flared slightly at the bottom, creating a dramatic silhouette, and the structured high waist featured asymmetrical stitching and a bold metallic clasp closure.

As Gojo changed, I handed Utahime her look. Her top was a reddish mesh fabric that was light and airy, almost gauzy, with a high turtleneck that framed her face beautifully. The fabric had an abstract, textured pattern that played with transparency and opacity, giving it depth. The cropped length stopped just above her waist, revealing just enough skin to make a statement. Her pants matched the avant-garde aesthetic, crafted in a muted reddish-brown hue with pleated detailing that flared slightly at the ankles. Together, the look was bold yet ethereal, fitting perfectly with the vision I had for the shoot.

Gojo stepped out first, shirtless, his tattoos on full display. They snaked across his chest and arms, a mix of abstract shapes and intricate line work that complemented the edgy vibe of his pants. He struck a pose, smirking as he ran a hand through his white hair.

“Looking good, Gojo,” I said, adjusting the waistband slightly and stepping back to examine the overall look.

“Looking good? Y/N, I look incredible,” he replied with a grin.

Utahime emerged next, her outfit soft yet commanding. She walked with quiet confidence, her movements deliberate. I adjusted the hem of her cropped top, making sure it fell just right, then stepped back to admire the two of them together.

“You two are going to kill this shoot,” I said, gesturing for them to head toward the set.

Gojo slung an arm casually around Utahime’s shoulders as they walked, and I followed behind, already envisioning how the shots would turn out. This collection needed to be perfect, and I knew I could rely on them to bring my designs to life.

The shoot kicked off with Gojo and Utahime working through their first looks effortlessly. Choso, my go-to photographer, was already snapping away, his camera clicking rapidly as he directed them with ease. His eye for detail was unmatched, and I trusted him completely to capture the mood of Obsydian’s latest collection.

We moved quickly, cycling through outfit after outfit. I adjusted every detail obsessively—tightening a strap here, smoothing a hem there. Gojo transitioned into a tailored yet deconstructed jacket in deep charcoal, paired with layered pants featuring cascading fabrics in muted tones.

Utahime shifted into a sleek dress with exaggerated sleeves and asymmetrical slits, the deep emerald fabric draping like water against her frame. They posed together and separately, their chemistry palpable and perfect for the avant-garde energy I wanted to convey.

As Choso lowered his camera after one particularly stunning shot of Gojo smirking into the lens, he turned to me with an expectant look.

"Alright, these look great. But…" he paused, glancing around the set, "where’s Geto? Wasn’t he supposed to be here?"

I sighed, already anticipating the conversation. “He couldn’t make it tonight,” I said, keeping my tone neutral as I fussed with a rack of accessories.

Choso tilted his head, not buying my casual dismissal. “Couldn’t make it, huh?” he said, raising an eyebrow. “You two good? He never misses a shoot.”

I glanced up at him, biting the inside of my cheek. Leave it to Choso to zero in on the tension. “It’s nothing,” I replied quickly. “Just scheduling conflicts. That’s why Satoru’s here filling in.”

Choso let it go, for now, turning back to his camera. “Well, these two are killing it,” he said, gesturing toward Gojo and Utahime, who were laughing about something between takes.

“Yeah,” I muttered, watching as Gojo playfully tugged on Utahime’s sleeve, making her roll her eyes in exasperation. They were doing great, no doubt, but something about Suguru’s absence felt… off. He had always been the centerpiece of Obsydian’s campaigns, the perfect embodiment of the brand’s avant-garde ethos. His presence was unmistakable, and without him, it felt like something was missing.

I shook off the thought and clapped my hands to get everyone’s attention. “Alright, people, let’s move to the next set! Gojo, Utahime, you’re changing into Look Three. Choso, I want some tighter angles for this one—focus on the textures.”

Choso nodded, his focus back on his craft, and I busied myself preparing the next looks. But in the back of my mind, Suguru lingered like a shadow I couldn’t quite shake.

After wrapping up the shots for Look Three, I called for a break. The team scattered—Gojo plopped onto the nearest couch, scrolling on his phone, while Utahime wandered over to the snack table. I took a moment to review the photos Choso had taken so far, nodding in approval as I flipped through them.

The sound of heavy footsteps drew my attention, and I turned to see Nanami strolling in, followed closely by Toji.

I placed my hands on my hips, fixing Toji with a mock glare. “You were supposed to be here earlier,” I scolded.

Toji, ever the nonchalant one, rolled his eyes as he approached. “You know Megumi gets funny about me leaving him at home,” he said, a smirk tugging at his lips.

I crossed my arms. “You could’ve brought him.”

Toji chuckled, stepping closer and wrapping an arm around my waist with an air of casual familiarity. “Next time, sweetheart,” he said smoothly, the smirk never leaving his face.

Gojo, seated nearby, let out an exaggerated cough, drawing all eyes to him. “Am I interrupting something?” he quipped, raising an eyebrow as he glanced pointedly at Toji’s arm around me.

Toji just smirked wider, clearly enjoying himself. “Relax, Satoru,” he drawled, giving me a quick squeeze before letting go.

Nanami, ever the pragmatist, rolled his eyes at the theatrics. “I was bored, so I’m here,” he said, his tone flat as he plopped down on the edge of the set, his sharp eyes scanning the room.

“You two just came to hang out or what?” I teased, brushing past Toji to grab a bottle of water.

“Toji came to be a nuisance,” Nanami deadpanned. “I came to see how the shoot was going—and maybe keep an eye on Suguru.” At the mention of Suguru, my stomach tightened slightly. “Suguru isn't here,” I said, keeping my tone as even as possible.

Nanami raised an eyebrow but didn’t press. Toji, meanwhile, leaned against the wall, his gaze lazily drifting over the set. “You know,” he said, his tone light but laced with mischief, “I could fill in for Suguru. I’d look damn good in one of those outfits.”

Gojo snorted. “Yeah, let’s get you a crop top, Toji. That’d be a sight.”

The room broke into light laughter, the tension easing for the moment. But as I glanced over at the rack of clothes meant for Suguru, I couldn’t help but feel the weight of his absence all over again.

Toji rolled his eyes dramatically, crossing his arms as he leaned back against the wall. “For your information, Satoru, I model for Obsydian,” he said, his smirk dripping with mock superiority.

Gojo raised an eyebrow, leaning forward with an amused grin. “Oh yeah? When’s the last time you walked a runway, Toji? Or are you just the backup guy for Y/N when Suguru’s too busy being broody?”

Toji shot him a sharp look, his smirk never wavering. “Actually, I’ve been featured in her campaigns more than a few times. Y/N knows quality when she sees it.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at the banter, shaking my head as I grabbed a fresh water bottle from the snack table. “Alright, alright, don’t drag me into this. Toji’s been great for a few shoots,” I said, raising a hand to settle the tension. “But let’s not pretend you’re Suguru’s replacement, Toji.”

Toji shrugged, unfazed. “Never said I was. I just know I pull it off just as well as he does.”

Nanami groaned quietly from his spot on the couch, rubbing his temple. “Can we not turn this into a competition?”

Gojo leaned back, flashing a grin at Nanami. “Oh, come on, Kento. You know you secretly enjoy the chaos.”

Nanami fixed him with a deadpan stare. “I don’t.”

Utahime, who’d been quietly munching on a granola bar, finally chimed in. “Honestly, I think Toji would look great in some of these pieces. We could throw him in Look Five and see how he does.”

Toji’s smirk widened as he pointed at Utahime. “See? Someone here recognizes talent.”

I shook my head, laughing softly. “Alright, Toji, if you’re so eager, maybe we’ll give you a look. But if you mess up my vision—”

“—I won’t, I never do.” he interrupted smoothly, holding his hands up in mock surrender.

Gojo groaned playfully. “This is gonna be good. I need to see Toji trying to strike a pose.”

The energy in the room lightened, everyone chuckling at the banter. But as I glanced over at Nanami, I caught the faintest flicker of concern in his expression. He wasn’t here just for fun, and I knew it.

But for now, I let it go, focusing instead on the shoot and the chaos Toji was undoubtedly about to bring.

Toji laughed heartily, his grin wide as he leaned casually against the wall. “Aye, aye, let’s not forget I was the first model outside your personal favorite, Suguru. We all know you both used to—”

“Anyway!” Kento exclaimed loudly, cutting Toji off before he could finish. “Y/N, what new items are you dropping? I need some fresh pieces to add to my collection. I’ve had your stuff since inception.”

I gave Kento a grateful look for redirecting the conversation. Toji’s smirk only deepened as he raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright, I’ll behave,” he said, though his tone made it clear he had no intention of doing so.

“Well,” I started, walking over to my work table where swatches of fabric and sketches were scattered. “I’ve been working on a collection that leans even further into avant-garde streetwear. Think exaggerated silhouettes, distressed layers, and experimental materials. I want it to be bold but wearable—like a statement that doesn’t scream, just whispers confidently.”

Kento nodded, his interest clear. “Sounds right up my alley. What’s the color palette?”

“Monochrome for the most part,” I explained, holding up a few fabric samples. “But I’m adding pops of deep jewel tones—emerald, amethyst, maybe even a little ruby red. Something that stands out but doesn’t overpower.”

Utahime walked over, brushing her hands off after finishing her snack. “Are you doing any accessories with it? Because I loved the leather harnesses from your last line.”

“I am,” I said with a nod. “I’m thinking oversized belts, experimental bags, and maybe some modular pieces that can transform depending on how you wear them.”

Gojo, who had been scrolling on his phone but clearly listening, glanced up. “Do I get any exclusive pieces for being such a dedicated stand-in model?” He gave me a playful wink.

“You’ll get whatever I give you, Satoru,” I said with a smirk, making everyone chuckle. “But don’t worry, I’ve got something in mind for you.”

Toji interjected, crossing his arms. “And what about me? If I’m gracing your campaign again, I better get first dibs.”

“You’ll get a thank-you and maybe a jacket,” I teased, rolling my eyes. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Toji.”

Kento cleared his throat. “I’m serious about placing my order early, Y/N. You know how quickly your pieces sell out.”

“I’ve got you covered, Kento,” I said warmly. “You’ve always been one of my biggest supporters.”

As the conversation shifted back to the shoot, I felt a sense of ease settle over the room. Despite the underlying tension that came with juggling professional and personal dynamics, moments like these reminded me why I loved what I did—and the people who made it all worthwhile.

The shoot was back in full swing, the energy in the room shifting as everyone found their rhythm again. To Gojo’s visible surprise, Toji was absolutely killing it on set. Despite his bulky, heavily tattooed frame,

Toji moved with a surprising grace, hitting poses that no one expected from a guy who usually looked like he belonged in the middle of a bar fight rather than under the lights of a photoshoot.

Choso, our photographer, was eating it up. “Toji, hold that! Perfect, now tilt your head just slightly—yeah, like that. Beautiful.”

For one particularly dramatic shot, Toji decided to up the ante. He grabbed a random object—what looked like an old book prop from a previous shoot—and, to everyone’s horror, lit the edge on fire. The faint glow from the flames cast an eerie but undeniably striking light across his features.

“Another light source,” Toji said with a grin, casually holding the burning book like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“Toji!” I yelled, storming over as the rest of the room froze, caught between awe and panic. “What the hell are you doing? Are you trying to set my studio on fire?”

He only laughed, his deep chuckle echoing through the space. “Relax, princess. I’ve got it under control.”

“You’ve got nothing under control!” I shot back, grabbing a fire extinguisher from the corner and spraying the flames down. “I swear to God, if you burn anything in here, I’ll make sure you never work with me again.”

“That’d break my heart, Y/N,” he said mockingly, clutching his chest like I’d just struck him. “You know you’d miss me.”

Gojo, watching from the sidelines, shook his head, half-amused and half-exasperated. “You’re insane, Toji. But I have to admit, that shot was kind of badass.”

Choso, still clicking through the photos, nodded in agreement. “I mean, he’s not wrong. That lighting was phenomenal. I’ll tone down the flames in post.”

I shot Choso a glare. “Don’t encourage him.”

Utahime sighed dramatically from her spot by the makeup table. “Why is it always chaos when Toji’s around? Every time.”

“Because he’s Toji,” Kento muttered dryly, arms crossed as he leaned against the wall. “And Toji thrives on chaos.”

Toji shrugged, clearly unfazed. “What can I say? The camera loves me.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to gather my patience. “Just get back to your poses and no more fire, Toji. I mean it.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a mock salute, his grin still firmly in place as he sauntered back to the set.

As much as I wanted to stay annoyed, it was impossible not to laugh. Toji’s antics might drive me insane, but they also brought a certain energy to the shoot that was hard to replicate. Still, I made a mental note to triple-check everything he brought on set from now on. With Toji, you could never be too careful.

Toji, ever the troublemaker, casually lit a cigarette as he lounged in his next outfit—an avant-garde ensemble that somehow made him look both rugged and sophisticated. The smoky tendrils curled around him, adding to his brooding aesthetic. Choso snapped a few photos, clearly loving the vibe, but I wasn’t having it.

I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms. “Toji, you’re not smoking on my set.”

He smirked, leaning back against the prop wall like he owned the place. “What’s the big deal? Adds to the aesthetic, doesn’t it?”

“The only thing it’s adding is a headache for me. Put it out.”

Instead of complying, he gave me a mischievous look. “Alright, I’ll make you a deal—come pose with me, and I’ll put it out.”

I scoffed, already shaking my head. “Not a fat chance, Zenin. This isn’t about me; it’s about you doing what I asked.”

He chuckled, taking a slow drag from the cigarette, the ember glowing faintly in the low light. “You’re no fun, princess. Afraid you might steal the spotlight?”

I stepped closer, hands on my hips. “Afraid you’ll end up in the trash if you keep testing me.”

Gojo, who had been watching the exchange with a grin, decided to chime in. “You know, Y/N, maybe you should take him up on it. Would be a killer shot.”

I shot Gojo with a withering glare. “Don’t encourage him.”

Kento, from his spot by the snack table, let out a long-suffering sigh. “Toji, just put it out before she actually murders you. We all know she’s capable.”

“Alright, alright,” Toji finally relented, stubbing the cigarette out on the edge of a metal prop. “You win this round, Y/N. But I’m holding you to that pose someday.”

“Keep dreaming,” I muttered, turning back to the rack of clothes for the next look.

Toji laughed, his deep voice echoing across the set. “You’re going to miss me when I’m gone, princess. Don’t deny it.”

“Gone where? The psych ward?” Utahime muttered under her breath, earning a round of laughter from everyone except Toji, who pointed at her with mock offense.

The shoot continued, chaotic as always, but with Toji behaving—relatively speaking. I had to admit, as frustrating as he was, the man could model. But next time, I’d make sure to ban cigarettes, fire, and whatever else he thought might “add to the aesthetic.”

As the crew began packing up, I sat on one of the lounge chairs in the corner of the studio, exhausted but satisfied with how the shoot turned out. The clock on my phone read 1:07 a.m., and I realized I still had a lot to plan before Paris Fashion Week. I leaned back, rubbing my temples as my phone vibrated with a notification.

It was a reply from Suguru: "Sure I’ll be there soon."

I studied his response for a moment, the few words feeling oddly distant. He was always like this lately—short replies, minimal engagement. I frowned and tapped out another message, my fingers hesitating for only a second before pressing send.

"Stop smoking. I know you're awake smoking. How are you supposed to sing lead one day if you smoke out your lungs?"

It didn’t take long for the typing indicator to appear, followed by his reply: "🙄"

I let out a tired sigh, my lips twitching into a small, amused smile despite myself. Typical Suguru—avoiding anything remotely serious with an emoji.

"Texting Suguru again?" Gojo’s voice broke through my thoughts. I glanced up to see him leaning against the wall, his phone in hand as he reviewed the photos he’d just taken for his socials.

"Yeah," I replied, not bothering to hide it. "Model rehearsals and fittings are coming up. I need him to start getting his act together."

Gojo chuckled, setting his phone down on the counter. "Good luck with that. Suguru only does what Suguru wants. I’m surprised you haven’t just swapped him out for someone less… complicated."

I shot him a look. " He’s irreplaceable. He brings something no one else can."

"That something being a whole lot of drama?" he teased, his signature grin spreading across his face.

I shook my head, choosing to ignore his comment as I focused back on my phone. Gojo might not have been wrong, but I wasn’t about to admit it. Suguru might be a handful, but he was also the face of my brand—and for better or worse, a part of my life I wasn’t willing to let go of.

I stared at my phone, waiting for the typing indicator to appear, but it didn’t. His last reply lingered on the screen:

"Good for him. Seems like you don’t need me as much these days."

A pang of frustration twisted in my chest. Suguru always had a way of turning things into a self-pity party when he felt threatened. I sighed, leaning back in my chair as the weight of his words settled over me.

I typed out a response carefully, my fingers hovering over the keyboard before pressing send:

"Don't be like that, Su. You know no one does it like you."

For a moment, I held onto hope that he’d reply. The minutes stretched on, the empty notification bar mocking me. Eventually, I let out a resigned sigh and set my phone down.

Gojo walked over, noticing the change in my mood. “Still nothing?”

I shook my head, not trusting myself to say much.

He plopped down in the chair next to me, slinging an arm over the back of it. “You know, for someone who keeps saying he’s not interested, Suguru sure acts like the jealous boyfriend.”

I rolled my eyes. “He’s not jealous. He’s just… complicated.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Gojo said with a smirk, though his tone held a hint of seriousness. “You always make excuses for him.”

I glanced at him sharply, but the playful glint in his eyes softened the edge of his words.

“I’m not making excuses,” I said, a little defensively. “I just know him better than anyone else.”

“Maybe,” Gojo replied, leaning forward. “But do you ever think about how much you put up with just because it’s Suguru? If it were anyone else, you’d have let them go by now.”

I didn’t have an answer for that. Instead, I grabbed my bag and stood up, brushing off his words as best as I could. “I’ve got fittings to finalize tomorrow. You should head home, Satoru. It’s late.”

He raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. Just don’t work yourself into the ground, Y/N. Paris Fashion Week or not, you still need to sleep.”

“Goodnight, Satoru,” I said pointedly, ignoring the knowing smile he gave me.

As I walked out of the studio and into the cool night air, I couldn’t shake the feeling of unease lingering in my chest. Suguru’s silence felt heavier than usual, like there was something he wasn’t saying—and I couldn’t help but wonder if Gojo was right.

[sherewrytes]

HOTLINE BL☆NG!

summ. wine nights and free will? a recipe for disaster— such as matching your ex on a corny dating app and having him in your bed within that same hour. . .

cw. eventual smut. 18+. fem!reader. alcohol/substance consumption. ex boyfriend!gojo. mild toxicity. breakup & makeup. girlhood ft jjk girlies. unreliable narrator sorta. sukuna slander. mild impact play. mild asphyxiation. oral (f). fíngering. backshōts. reader is a little questionable. self sabotaging my beloved. lowkey angsty. @/3aem on tumblr for art creds. most of these stories are real shit i’ve heard/experienced LOL. can you tell i’ve never used tinder a day in my life? 16.4k words. . oops.

rena’s note. @yung-notorious and her filthy mind. . .

“you like it when i fuck you like this? yeah you do.”

god, you do.

you can’t bring yourself to remember why you’d ever let go of dick this good. the kind that had you taking the rubber off and considering finishing inside. the kind that had you babbling apologies for having done absolutely nothing wrong. the kind that made you begin to believe his careless whispers, empty promises to work things out.

his fingers dig in the column of your throat, the weight of his hand wrapped tightly at your neck. he’s everywhere at once, but simultaneously no where to be found. while you can feel his tip prodding at your most sensitive spot, you don’t feel the overwhelming force of love he once bore with open arms for you.

“nahhh. . . don’t start running now.” you didn’t realize you were. the sheets are crumpled in your tight hold, while your other hand lightly pushes at his lower abdomen. naturally, he pins your wrist at your spine to maintain his ruthless pace, and with another gentle yet cruelly empty promise, “not when i’ve just gotten you back.”

how the fuck did you get yourself in this mess?

friday nights were meant to decompose after a long week. a cute tradition you followed— sipping on moscato wine and munching on takeout with your homegirls while the lamest horror movie played as background noise. the skincare bit happened every third friday of the month, which fell on this particular night, thin layers of korean products lathering at your skins while fluffy headbands sat atop your hairlines, keeping stray hairs away.

it was an easy way of recapping all of your week’s worth of bullshit and listing each girl’s new lineup of men of the season.

girlhood.

“i’m cool off men for a whileee,” you sigh, placing your third wine glass on the coffee table. you tuck your legs back onto the couch, propping your head into your palm. you watch as shoko, who’s seated on the floor, grabs your glass and fills it with another unsolicited round. you narrow your eyes at her, “after the shit kuna pulled— girl, slow down!”

“don’t watch me,” shoko chews at her unlit blunt tucked in her teeth, lifting an arm above her head to pass you your refill. despite the slight spin of the room, you accept the cup against better judgment, “keep talking. what the fuck did he do now?”

“you mean what didn’t he do,” seated in the pink bean bag rested on the floor, utahime quips. in between her teeth sits a wooden stick, drizzled in the honey-like wax residue she smeared over her shin. “i woulda left his ass the second i found out he— FUCK— lived with his mama at his big age.”

as utahime soothes her smoothened skin, yuki leans over the coffee table to grab at the blunt passed over to her. “y/n baby, you know i love you,” she starts off, taking a deep inhale before ghosting the smoke. you can tell she’s about the cook the shit out of you, “but come on— he lives in his parents’ basement. was that not a red flag in itself? is that seriously the kind of man you see yourself marrying.”

“nevermind the fact he’s pushing thirty and still unemployed,” shoko throws in her two cents, takeout back in her lap as she breaks open a new set of chopsticks, “he’s one more ‘tap in’ away from getting caught by the feds.”

“how much y’all wanna bet he’s at the club right now as we speak?” it’s a rhetorical question, but utahime pauses her waxing to check. with sticky fingers, she taps away at her phone, and with a knowing smile she yelps, tilting her screen towards you three, “aha!— and there goes the infamous money spread.”

“cornballllll.” shoko cringes.

you’re filled with dread and shame at the sight presented. god— every single chance you gave this man, he spun around and somehow does worse. it’s not like the two of you were together— never officially, but the sole fact that you’ve let this man treat you as if you were his girl haunts you. you’ve let countless of bullshit slide all because his stroke game came second within all the men you’ve dealt with.

the only thing you’ll give him besides a being a good lay is that you’ve never had issues concerning other women. he’s a very transparent guy— you’ve yet to receive a “hey girlie. . .” text from anybody. though, it isn’t like either of you have ever dropped any hard launches. it was mostly content that only close friends could catch onto— the interior design of his car, your latest set of nails, subtle shots of his tattoos, your purses and jewelry. nothing evident but pretty obvious to those who know.

if sukuna was still cool with him, however. . . yeah, he’d definitely know, considering the fact he purchased most of the purses you own. that’s excluding the fact your favorite necklace, the one with your name engraved, the one you always wear, was also bought by him.

“move,” you push utahime’s hand away from your peripheral, slumping further into the couch. embarrassment floods you yet again, and you drown it away with more wine. much to your chagrin, they spare no mercy as they giggle at your pout, “not too much on me— shoko, you’re literally the one who put me on!”

“don’t do that,” she rolls her eyes, picking at the orange chicken on her platter. you have half a mind at chucking your drink at her. “all i told you was to fuck him. nobody said anything about keeping him around.”

“instructions: unclear,” utahime giggles, smearing another coat of wax mixture onto her calves. “she’s now a year deep into a situationship with a man who files for disability checks to blow on parlays.”

you spring up in your seat, your wine nearly spilling on shoko in your excitement, “shit, i never told you guys!”

“told us what?” yuki kills the blunt in the ash tray, and stretches an arm to grab at her food. she knocks over a few emptied bottles as they roll on the carpet, and winces when one of them knock at shoko’s knee, “my fault girl.”

shoko clicks her tongue, but you loop your arms around her neck as you proceed, “before you bitches attacked me for literally just being a girl,” you decide ignore the way they all groan, “i was trying to tell you all why i finally ended shit with him.”

“well don’t hold back now!” utahime eggs on.

“guess what i found out,” you set the empty wine glass back onto the table. you’re most likely gonna need your hands in this specific conversation, “he bet thirty thousand dollars on the super bowl game— and lost.”

the room falls quiet. utahime pauses in her ripping, yuki drops her noodles from her chopsticks and shoko nearly chokes on her wine. amidst it all, three pairs of eyes slowly crawl to meet your gaze, in complete disbelief at what you’d told them.

“are you deadass?” shoko speaks first, her facial expression almost incredulous. her eyes are teary from her food slipping through the wrong tube. “you’re playing, right? right?”

“she has to be. . . this is a new level of low even for him.” yuki shakes her head, most likely in attempts to give him the benefit of the doubt. you don’t blame her— no sane person would drop thirty grand on a fucking betting app of all things— and on top of that, lose.

“i wish i was?!” you groan, still upset, “the worst part is that he told me that money was supposed to be deposit money for a condo he’d been,” you raise your fingers in air quotes, “looking into.”

“you know what though? this doesn’t actually surprise me,” utahime laughs, as if she hadn’t been in a daze for a solid minute. she rips at the strip, and winces, “didn’t i just say he was getting checks to place on parlays? frank gallagher looking ass.”

“but thirty thousand?” yuki emphasizes, blinking rapidly in her disbelief, “what the fuck would possess somebody to bet thirty grand on anything?”

“grown ass man, by the way.” shoko mumbles mindlessly, before chowing down some more food. you can’t find it in yourself to disagree.

utahime nods, blowing a puff of air, “on god, bro. don’t he got mortgages to pay off or some shit?”

yuki shoots her a deadpanned look, “girl, with what house.”

and that had been your final straw with him. not the fact he lived in his mother’s basement despite clearly having money to rent out a place, or the fact he was still flexing bands he allegedly has on the gram— but blowing all your money on a fucking football game. and losing. you do respect yourself, as much as these girls believe you don’t. a man with no ambitions and no money? you need to run and far.

“i’ll miss his dick though.” you pout, the alcohol already coursing through your body. being wine drunk always made you horny, that was a known fact, and letting go of one of your greatest eaters was not on your bingo card. naturally, the girls roll their eyes at your antics, “boo me all you want— he horsed me the fuck around in bed.”

“you used to say the same shit about gojo,” utahime points out, rising to her feet as she grabs the used strips in her hold, before circling around the couch, “and look how that ended up.”

technically. . . she wasn’t exactly wrong but that still stung a bit. “hime, seriously?” shoko rolls her eyes, and you feel her hand rubbing at your foot soothingly. her motions are a little stiff but you appreciate the sentiment, “we get you don’t fuck with him but he was still her man. and basically my friend, kinda.”

you hear her wince in the kitchen, followed by footsteps, “right. . . sorry girlie.” she runs back to you after throwing the waste away, and kisses at your temple. she doesn’t comment on the pout on your lips. “i didn’t mean it. . . okay maybe i did, but i’m still sorry!”

your history with gojo was complicated. you’d met him through shoko in your third year of college, at a kickback party hosted by his people. it’d been an invite only thing, but shoko had brought you along as a plus one, and you both instantly connected. as far as you were concerned, it was technically supposed to be a sneaky link vibe, but you soon learned gojo was anything but sneaky. in fact, he was so vocal in him wanting you, that he actually did end up getting you a couple months later.

he’s a year older than you, therefore he’d graduated a year ahead. the separation in itself was something you hadn’t looked forward to at all, but he had found himself a condo downtown, not too far from your residency, therefore seeing each other hadn’t been an issue. he always made it clear he wanted to see you— even after gruelling nine to five shifts in the office. his words matched his actions, driving you up to his place since yours had a stupid curfew policy for visitors.

(you’ve kept him in your dorm numerous times.) (your closet has suffered enough with his lanky ass.)

the first year worked out for the better. he was still welcomed to the parties you invited him to, he made time in his schedule help you with your studies, planned consist dates and even took you out on trips. he was physically, mentally and emotionally present— and you genuinely believed he would be your forever man when you’d introduced him to your parents at your graduation ceremony and he seemed thrilled. they adored him— and that says a lot considering they hated all your other exes. with good reason, but still.

it’d been the honeymoon phase until it wasn’t.

you expected arguments. those are inevitable in relationships, but with every argument he grew distant. you were now both graduated students juggling between jobs, rent and a relationship. it was a lot— your schedules never seemed to align which jumbled into multiple failed dates, which further escalated into more arguments. it hadn’t always been him, you could agree you were at fault too. that post graduation depression spiralled worst than you’d anticipated— the fear of falling behind when your boyfriend had already been successful so early into his career entirely consuming.

he reassured you plenty, but you could see it in his face as he spoke to you— he was exhausted. of work. of life. of you. he had bigger fish to fry than dealing with a workaholic girlfriend with low self esteem. the bigger the promotion, the less your value. you’d seen this play out before— it was less i love you’s and more hours in the office. less dinner dates and more project plannings.

the more time you spent by yourself, the more your mind began overthinking. you had no place in his life anymore. you didn’t resent him for it— you wish nothing but the best for him. he deserves to be successful in life, and he’s already so close to it. your slacking behind is nothing more than dead weight in his rise to the top.

the breakup had been anticipated. you’d broken up with him first. he never asked you to explain why. he nodded, never uttering a word. it’d been the first time you’d seen him in weeks. you kept it simple, “we should break up.” and he kept it even simpler, a curt bounce of the head in agreement. as quick as he’d entered your apartment, he left.

and that’d honestly been it. you’d been together for four years, and broken up for a year and a half. after all this time, you still don’t resent him for it. he made the rational choice in prioritizing himself and his future, and you simply didn’t fit in it. it took you quite some time to work on yourself as well, and you’re honestly satisfied with where you are in life. the breakup clearly worked in favour for you both.

it sucks that he was genuinely the only man you ever cared about. the only man you can confidently say you loved.

“look— now you got her thinking about him!” shoko complains, chucking the nearest thing— a throw pillow, at utahime. it hits her square in the face, to which she lets out a muffled oof! “way to fucking go.”

you blink out of your thoughts. well that’s embarrassing, you got caught up in the past again. you lift yourself from the slumping position you’d unintentionally fallen into the midst of daydreaming, “shit, my bad. got flashbacks to that time he ate me off the bone after his first promotion.”

“yo, what?!” yuki hollers, falling into a fit of laughter. shoko rolls her eyes so much you’re thinking it’ll get stuck at the back of her skull and utahime physically cringed from head to toe. “so fucking unserious— here we are, worried about your ass and here you go, upset you lost your best eater.”

not exactly, though there was some truth to her words. gojo was your best eater, and nobody’s topped him since. he really did tongue fuck you that night like you were the boss who raised his pay. but it wasn’t just the sex you missed— you wholeheartedly missed him. the closest thing to a soul bond you’ve experienced, now gone.

they don’t need to know all that though.

“oh come on,” utahime groans, picking at her nails. trust her to find any reason to slander your ex. for what reason? she’s never told you other than him annoying the fuck out of her, “he could not have been that great. it can’t be anything you can’t find elsewhere— plenty of men eat pussy.”

“okay but do they enjoy eating it or is it more of a duty thing?” yuki points out, rolling her thumb on her lighter mindlessly. she watches the flame arise, casting a soft glow on the sheet stuck to her face, “because you can definitely tell the difference. one eats for foreplay, the other eats for his own pleasure.”

shoko hums in agreement, still poking at her plate, “a man versus a munch,” and with a beat of silence, she takes a deep sigh, throwing her head back, “i should call him.”

“no! no you should not,” utahime laughs, before shooting you a glance. your smile quickly falters and is switched with a look of confusion as she points a nail filer in your direction, “and you,” you cock a brow, “stop thinking about him. we’re supposed to be independent women, y’all need to stand the fuck up.”

“hime, please, you were literally just complaining to your close friends about your latest dry spell.”

“irrelevant!” she dismisses yuki, waving a hand absentmindedly. you don’t see how it’s irrelevant exactly, but you let her proceed. “we are sexy, successful and strong women. stop relying on the past and focus on the future. there are bitches that fought for their lives for the freedom we have! you could literally get dick anywhere— they actually have apps for it, if you didn’t know—”

“so tell us, o’mighty one,” shoko cuts her off, “are you suggesting we download tinder to relieve our stress?”

she remains quiet, and you can see the gears churning in her head. you’re about ninety nine percent positive shoko was fucking around, but the scrunch in your friend’s eyebrows tells you she’s seriously contemplating the idea, “. . yes actually.” she finally decides.

“hime. . .” shoko groans, but is effectively cut off when she springs up to her knees to grab at her phone.

“no, seriously, think about it!” she scrolls through her phone like a maniac, searching through the app store and typing the name in. you all watch her incredulously, her enthusiasm in the matter as if she hadn’t been preaching about feminism half a minute ago, “i’ve met some of my best lays in college through tinder. i haven’t been on this app in years though.”

you don’t see why not. you were pretty tipsy and would never have agreed to this under typical conditions, however it could be regarded as a bonding activity. you also haven’t been on tinder since before your last relationship, and the shit sukuna put you through this past year was enough to make you want to deal with literally anything else.

“i’m down.” you pull out your phone, and shoko may have gotten whiplash with how quick she snaps her head back to eye you. you shrug your shoulders, “we don’t have to take this shit seriously— god knows i’m not entertaining anybody on this app for real.”

“exactly!” utahime nods, walking up to scoot herself beside you. she nudges at shoko with her foot, who flicks at her toes to keep her away, “it’s just for shits and giggles.”

“i’m definitely not doing this shit,” yuki crawls to sit at the couch’s feet, right at shoko’s side, and grabs at the remote sitting uselessly on the table, “but i will be watching you both embarrass yourselves.”

“the only other bitch with common sense here.” shoko sprawls her legs onto yuki’s lap. she receives a slap at the back of her head by utahime, and naturally she slaps the hand right back. “can’t stand that little fucker sometimes.”

“aweee, love you too!” she blows a kiss at her to which she receives a middle finger. you snort, eyes glued on your screen as you redownload that forsaken app back into your phone.

you’d probably regret it in the morning, but that was something saturday you would have to deal with. as of right now, with white wine in your system, logic was not an option. you were learning to live more in the moment, and apparently that starts with the corniest dating app in the world.

it’s not like you’d magically stumble upon your ex on the platform. now wouldn’t that be something? ha!

there’s no fucking way.

this had to be one big, fat cosmic joke. a cruel prank, even. and if it was, then the universe had a twisted sense of humour. you still don’t believe it— were the girls in on this? this kind of shit didn’t just happen to anybody.

it took about a total of twenty minutes between logging back into your old account, updating your password and bio, and swiping left on passing profiles until you landed on it. on. . . him.

you blink slowly. your phone is shaky beneath your unstable hands, and you’re pretty sure you’ve been holding your breath in far longer than recommended for the average human. it’s quiet as fuck in the room— despite the three girls huddled over your shoulders, sticking their noses in all directions to get a clearer view of your illuminating screen— almost as if to confirm if what they were seeing was truly was they were seeing, as if this was all too fucking ironic to be true.

there’s a knot of anxiousness that simmers in the pits of your stomach. you’re pretentiously aware that even the slightest movement— one wrong click or swipe, would ultimately change everything. there was too much at risk here. “oh there’s no fucking way. . .” shoko speaks up first.

utahime leans in impossibly closer, a few centimetres away from fully emerging with your iphone as her nose scrunches, “way too sexy? fuck around and find out? god, he’s still so corny, i swear.”

your eyes trail over his biography, curiously. that “way2sexy” had been an inside joke you both shared years ago— back when drake had dropped one of gojo’s favourite albums, certified loverboy. he overplayed the shit out of that song when it came out, so much that you received multiple complaints from your RA for “public disturbance”, but he swore it worked as daily affirmations for him in the same sense crystals and tarot cards worked for spiritual girlies. you called him corny for it, but before you knew it, it’d shown up in your spotify wrapped the following year.

rapid memories of morning rays of light peeking through blinds, a groggy yet mysteriously clear “alexa, play way 2 sexy” as you fixed your sheets and lit your candles, fighting over who gets to spit toothpaste residue first, hearty laughter to fumbled lyrics, shared minty kisses paired with one “gimme one more” too many.

the ache clenching at your heart is hard to ignore.

“i would give him the benefit of the doubt in believing he hasn’t updated his account,” yuki draws out, eyes narrowing as a finger sticks out to point, “but his age matches. emoticons as a grown man. . . no shade though.”

his age did match. inside joke aside, none of it was adding up. if he already had his account set up years ago, had he willingly changed his bio to one of your most infamous gags after the breakup? if you were to swipe right right now, would it instantly match? you don’t think you want to figure it out— both possible outcomes scaring you shitless.

“should i swipe left?” you speak uncharacteristically softly, torn between the idea of tucking your tail inwards and running away from the opportunity or your typical it is what it is mentality.

“yes! obviously— mmmph?!”

“do you want to?” shoko, with a pillow stuffing an agitated utahime in the face, counters. between all the girls, she seemed to understand you the most, granted her own relationship with the man. you’re sure he had given her his own version of their breakup, how you’d opened the doors to endless opportunities for him, had given him the easy way out. you never bothered asking her, afraid of the illusion you’d created to shield yourself shattering, “only you have the answer to that.”

“i honestly don’t know,” you sigh, joints in your thumb aching from hovering over your screen for too long. swiping left meant completely abandoning any the possibility of the two of you as one. you don’t want that responsibility weighted on your shoulders again, “what if he’s moved on? the shit that’ll do to my ego if i swipe right and he passes on me?”

shoko finally grants her friend the permission of speech, freeing her off the couch decoration, though the look she gives her serves as a warning to tread lightly. with a heavy breath, utahime releases a puff, “i’d crashout, just sayin’.”

“but what if he hasn’t moved on?” yuki poses, and apparently that was all the confirmation you needed to swipe. fuck pride— pride wasn’t going to get your back blown out. pride wasn’t going to help you get the love of your life back. pride can go fuck itself.

“wait—”

utahime is cut off again, however, not by shoko but tinder itself. the notification pings loudly, resonating in depths of your ear cavity and shoots straight to your chest. you can feel your heart pounding wildly against your rib cage. it’s so silent you can hear a pin drop, and the way your gut churns gives away the end result to your spontaneity.

it’s a match.

“well. . . shit.” shoko slumps back into the couch nonchalantly, and you don’t need to see her to know she’s sporting a smirk. you do feel her knee knock into yours. fake ass idgafer.

you’re no better, biting down your bottom in order to suppress the smile itching to spread. a year later and the sole idea that he’d already came across the same mindset as you, willing to give whatever it was that needed a second shot, had you beyond delusional. god, you need help.

“look at youuu, cheesin’ and shit!” yuki pokes at your cheek and you swat her hand away, ultimately caving into the smile. fuck yeah you were geeked— it’s hard carrying a nonchalant attitude when you were an honest to god, soft hearted lovergirl. if you played your cards right, with a few lash bats and glossy lips, you’d be getting dicked down in no time.

“i’m gonna be sick.” utahime deadpans.

“and i’m getting dickkk,” you sing, jumping to your feet as you stood on the couch. you turn around, hands clutching onto the headrest, giving your ass a cute shake as it rotates in circular motions. you feel shoko’s hand tapping it encouragingly, her phone illuminating as it records while she rests her head on your moving thighs. you hear yuki cackle, pulling out her phone to film as well. you giggle, “rip that pussy!”

“ayeeee!” they complete the lyrics, and the vibes are restored yet again, girly giggles filling the room. when your legs begin to feel wobbly, you stop your twerking to plop yourself right back down, leaning your head onto shoko’s shoulder.

you hear her click her tongue as the recording of your ass graces her screen, and she groans, “gojo is one lucky bastard— he can’t handle all that.”

he most definitely can, and has. you’ll opt with shrugging in the meantime.

“with that being said,” utahime jumps in, crossing her legs, “what’s the next move here? you reaching out first?”

your lips straighten as your mind reflects. if you still know him as well as you think you do, he’s definitely going to text you first as soon as he sees the green light. sure, you were anxious for a reply, desperate to check what his temperature was— but you’d already sacrificed a grand amount of dignity just swiping right. he could do take on the role of texting first.

“nah, i’m almost a hundred percent sure he’ll—”

ping!

you all whip your heads to the source of the sound. your phone. the screen shines as it undergoes facial recognition, and exposes the messenger. from tinder. gojo. sending you a message. just as you’d expected.

you can’t help the cocky smile, eyes trailing at their perplexed faces, “—text me first.”

naturally, the girls are impressed. even you are— that timing? would it be insane to genuinely be considering gojo might honest to god be your soulmate? yuki blows a puff of air, followed by a laugh, “your pussy has to be magical cause what the fuck?”

“ladies and gentlemen,” utahime stands to her feet, fisting her hand into an imaginary microphone, and addresses her fake crowd. in the hostiest voice she can muster, she curtsies as she continues in comedic fashion, “miss pussy fairy in thee flesh.”

“put a stamp on it.” shoko shakes her head in acknowledgment, laying her own phone in her lap as she claps. yuki places two fingers in her mouth and whistles at you, to which you rise to your own feet and dramatically place a hand over your chest in faux humility.

“oh please!” you flatter yourself, tucking your hair behind your ear. you smile behind your palm, your improv classes in high school coming in clutch, “this is too much— thank you! thank you deeply.”

“girl, byeee,” utahime breaks character first, giggling as she sits back onto the abandoned bean bag. you mimic her motions, as she pops open a stray water bottle and swallows a big gulp, “open his text! i wanna see what he said!”

you’re in the same boat, thumbing at your phone to unlock it and open the app. naturally the girls hover over you yet again, just as eager to see how he finally broke the no contact phase. it took him less than three minutes to slide in your messages, as the option had finally been granted.

right as your thumb hovers the message, a hum draws out your throat, “how much y’all wanna bet it’s something corny?” you tease, something close to a hunch giving it away. seeing as your assumptions were deemed accurate just a few minutes ago, the only way he’d think of clearing the ice would be with something plausibly lame.

“open itttt!” utahime ushers you, hands clamping at your shoulders. you roll your eyes, letting her dramatics sway your body back and forth before she lets up. you let out a sigh, and open the unanswered message.

and just as you’d predicted. . .

@gsatoru: they say shooters shoot 👀

“oh brotherrrr,” the girls groan in sync, and even you can’t stop the cringe that stiffens your face. if there’s one thing that hasn’t changed, it’s the fact he still doesn’t act his age. he needs to let those college days go.

“now, what’d i tell y’all.” you tut, leaving out the part of nostalgia simmering deep and warmly in your bones at his predictability. ever the goofy he was, gojo satoru. jeez.

“i was really found myself rooting for him too,” shoko sighs, rising to her feet. she dusts at her lap then stretches her limbs lazily, “i’m gonna go pee— hime, i swear to god, don’t take my seat.” she doesn’t look back to flip her off when she hears utahime blow raspberries her way. to which, against shoko’s wishes, leaps over to snatch her seat.

both you and yuki give her a deadpanned look, but yuki voices out your thoughts, “she’s gonna get on your ass and i’m not helping you out.”

“girl, boo.” utahime rolls her eyes, “more importantly, what the fuck do you answer to that?” her nail taps at your phone screen, peering at you expectantly through lashes.

you consider your options. do you reciprocate the same energy or do you call him out on his corniness? matching his vibe would be like starting off a blank slate— a new start, new conversations, something almost superficial. like a fling you meet at the bars for one night of fuckery that you regret the next morning. but calling him out would induce in falling into familiar patterns— calling him a cornball while he attempts to sweet talk you, old conversations brought up, risking broken boundaries for the sake of reminiscing.

decisions, decisions, decisions.

“i’m thinking taking the easy way out.” you nod your head, readying your fingers as you type your response out.

you miss the exchanged glances between utahime and yuki, too busy trying to format how to come off playful but not forgetful. flirty but not desperate. come pull up on me but demurely. well you’ll be damned— in what world had you ever expected second guessing yourself for gojo?

“what’s the easy way out?” yuki asks, and you hit send. where this confidence comes from is beyond you, but any error you make you can blame on the wine (you’re hardly fazed but it’s nice to have something to pin the blame on instead of yourself) (old habits die hard).

you tilt your phone, holding it out as you watch the girls’ brows furrow, eyes scanning over the screen. when their faces contort into a look of amusement mixed with horror, a girly giggle escapes your throat.

@yourstrulyname: sukuna ryomen wsp with you?? 🙈

“you didn’t!” utahime hollers, her laughter so intense she doubled over to clutch at her stomach. yuki sways her body back and forth as she finds herself in a hysterical fit as well. “goddd, i would kill to see the look on his face right now.”

“yooo, that’s evil.” the blonde swipes at a tear. “woulda had me deactivating the whole account.”

“who’s deactivating?” shoko pops back in, not without slapping utahime upside the head. she ignores the way utahime complains in favour to swipe a nearly emptied bottle to pour.

“it’s not even that bad,” you defend yourself, flashing her your screen as she installs herself in the bean bag utahime once occupied. her eyes squint as she reads the conversation, nearly bulging out their sockets when she catches your message, “nahhh, don’t give me that!”

“if he gives you the time of day after that,” shoko swirls the wine in her glass, snorting, “he must really still be in love with you.”

“he should know i’m playing. . .” you’re not sure if you’re trying to convince the girls, him or yourself. you really were just joking around— albeit a terrible joke, but one regardless! sukuna was officially removed from the roster, a financially irresponsible man never standing a chance against you, “right?”

“don’t ask us?” utahime chimes in, uselessly, to which you roll your eyes. well shit, maybe you should double text? let him know you were just fooling around, trying to check temperatures and establish the mood. your phone pings again, and all unnecessary thoughts are thrown out the window.

@gsatoru: oh so you got jokes now?

as you’re about to let him know you’ve been had jokes, but never the goofy type, you see the bubbles pop up, a telltale that he’s got more to tell you. you let him have it, already having possibly fumbled the mission before even starting. it feels like an eternity and a half waiting on his text, the girls having huddled over you yet again, just as curious to see what he had to counter with.

@gsatoru: can’t be a joke if the guy had you outside on valentine’s day tho. stk steakhouse? really girl?

your jaw falls slack. you watch with burning eyes at your screen as your built up suspicions were ultimately confirmed. okay, so those two were still somehow connected. you didn’t like to question male friendships, the lack of loyalty not one you’d ever understand. god forbid you ever started fucking with utahime’s ex of many years.

“wait. .” said girl speaks up, drawing the word out as she processes his answer. her tongue rolls around in her mouth, face cringing as the next words follow, “i can’t lie, he kinda ate you up.”

“just sassy as fuck,” shoko laughs, and it’s one of those giggles reserved to shit she honestly finds hilarious, “really girl is crazy. all comfortably like he’s one of your homegirls.”

“now what’s wrong with stk’s?” yuki grumbles, picking at her nails with a childish pout on her lips, “everybody isn’t born with a silver spoon plugged up our asses. god, i can’t stand rich people.”

you don’t bother answering the girls, already aware he chewed with his response, that he’s as sassy as he was years ago and that he had found that particular steakhouse shabby despite it being a fucking steakhouse. these were things you already knew. your thumbs proceed before your mind can register,

@yourstrulyname: been keeping tabs on me?

“you don’t look too happy,” shoko pokes at your cheek. there’s an ache creasing in your forehead, and you relax the furrow of your brows. you’re not exactly upset, just a bit on edge with his approach— you can’t tell whether he’s on tens or not. whether he’s genuinely joking around or not.

“i’m fine.” you poke back, and she nods. she ushers the other girls to pick a new movie to play, and you clock this is her way of allowing you some privacy between exes. you shoot her a grateful look, and she offers a sly wink. you’ll make sure to update her on whatever happens as soon as it’s over.

you switch your ringer off, and open his new message.

@gsatoru: hard not to when he posts you like he has smth to prove

@yourstrulyname: who said it was me?

you knew it was you. you knew he knew it was you. but still, you wanted to hear it from him yourself, wanted to know if he really was keeping tabs on you ever since the breakup. it’d help ease your mind with unanswered questions.

@gsatoru: you mean besides the bags and jewelry i got you?

@gsatoru: your build was a dead giveaway. could recognize you blindfolded in a room full of women

you bit your lip. you could work with this text, play around with it and see if shit flips. would he fall for the bait? you’ll start off slow, create an opening and see if he decides to indulge.

@yourstrulyname: like what you saw?

he answers instantly and your heart sinks a bit.

@gsatoru: of course

@gsatoru: you’re as a beautiful as the day you left me

is that how he saw it? you assume you did leave him in a practical sense, but there was no way he hadn’t seen it coming miles away. you had both been caught up in your lives, the additional stress of romance an unwanted factor in the rise of your careers. so yeah, you’d given him the opportunity to leave. it’s not as if he fought it anyway, so did you really leave him if he’d closed the door on his merry way out?

this was starting to get personal. toeing between the line of uncharted territory and familiarity. everything you didn’t want— debriefing the logic behind the underwhelming breakup on tinder of all places was out of the fucking question.

@yourstrulyname: you still cool with sukuna?

@gsatoru: something like that

@gsatoru: he’s slimey as fuck for sliding on you tho

you figured as much. you couldn’t imagine a world where gojo wouldn’t feel some type of way at his friend going after his ex girlfriend a couple months fresh off a breakup. he probably felt the same way towards you, the difference being one owes him more loyalty than the other.

@yourstrulyname: and what does that make me?

@gsatoru: did he mean something to you?

he didn’t. you think of the importance of somebody meaning something to you— the fear of losing that person larger than life itself. the joy of waking up in that person’s arms on a rainy morning. the vulnerability in bonding souls with that person. the relief your body undergoes as it melts in that person’s embrace.

he didn’t mean shit to you.

@yourstrulyname: no

@gsatoru: then that makes you someone who made a choice

neutral and impassive. you wondered if he truly meant that. in a sense, you assume he really did mature.

@yourstrulyname: so he’s in the wrong but i’m not?

@gsatoru: who am i to assign right from wrong? you’re both adults at the end of the day

you don’t know what to answer to that. there was a lot of truth to his words— you were both consenting adults with choices made. jeez, just what had gojo gone through all these months that made him none the wiser? you’re considering leaving him on opened for a while, at least until you come up with an answer to that philosophical ass message, when he double texts you.

@gsatoru: this is so backwards lmaoo. what’s good with you? how’ve you been?

so he realized it too. thank fuck— skipping small talk and diving into the nitty gritty this late at night was not how you expected your night to go. the girls had completely forgotten your predicament, invested in the latest reality tv show flashing on your flat screen.

@yourstrulyname: been good. you?

@gsatoru: wow you’re as dry as ever

@gsatoru: life’s been blessed, could be better tho. too much to explain over text

oh? was this what you were thinking it was?

@yourstrulyname: what are you getting at, gojo?

@gsatoru: gojo? so it’s fuck me then

@gsatoru: not getting at anything. ball’s in your court, yn

so it was. you contemplate it for a second— should you invite him over tonight? the girls won’t be upset about kicking them out, and if anything they’d encourage you to call them as soon as it’s over. you suppose your doubts lie within the idea of having your ex boyfriend back into your territory. in the comfort of your home, a home he’d once already graced.

as scary as it sounded, you also desperately craved seeing him. it’d been a solid eighteen months since you’ve broken up, and thirteen since you’ve last seen him entirely. ironically, around the time you started getting involved with sukuna. you weren’t sure if it was your heart or pussy talking, but laying up in bed with this man was not something you were against.

fuck it.

@yourstrulyname: you know where i stay at

and his response comes instantly.

@gsatoru: be there in half an hour.

oh fuck.

“yo. . .” you speak up, for the first time in a few minutes. the girls turn their heads, acknowledging you, as you shut your phone close and chuck it across the sofa. “i love y’all but y’all gotta go, like now.”

shoko shakes her head, but there’s a smirk on her lips. utahime, as lost as ever, gives you a frown. yuki has most likely caught on, rising to her feet, dusting her lap, “say no more.”

the girls do you an immense favour as they excuse themselves. they pick at empty bottles and containers, throw dirty dishes in the dishwasher, rearrange the throw pillows and even light up your candles. you feel bad for kicking them out so late, so you pitch in some money for gas as well as the inconvenience.

as they cleaned out your living room and kitchen, you’d rushed to your shower for a mini cleanse. pulling out your bests, you wash over intimate parts thoroughly, lathering your limbs in scented soap, before rinsing, brushing your teeth and stepping out. you stare at your reflection through the haze of steam, the foggy mirror reminding you of the missing messages he used to leave on mornings you had to get to work.

no point in dwelling on the past when he was on his way over this moment. you swap your silk robe for the skimpiest loungewear you own— matching camisole and shorts, and let your hair cascade back down. you’re about your fifth spritz of body spray when the doorbell rings, and your stomach flutters.

you halt in your step when you notice how fast you’re going. yikes! the last thing he needs is his ego inflating, knowing you were rushing to get him inside, nevermind the fact you washed, pulled out your sexiest pyjamas and even wore a brand new pair of panties. you know. . . just for preparations. better safe than sorry.

after the third mindless lap around your kitchen, you make your way towards the door. you inhale sharply, clenching at your shaky fingers, easing your nerves. you quickly snap out of your daze, pulling the door open.

his eyes, momentarily distracted by the number engraved in the wall next to your door, glaze over your figure curiously. his hands are tucked in the pocket of his sweatpants. he lets out a breath, a sound borderlining a chuckle as it shoots straight to both heartbeats, shoulders drop from its hunch,

“hey.”

he’s thick.

no perverted shit. you’ve noticed he’s put on weight in the right places— not to say he’d been anything less than nicely built in the past, but his biceps are significantly fuller and the material of his compression tee stretched over bulging muscles in a telltale pattern.

somebody’s been at the gym one too many.

“you good with this?” he mumbles, hand running across the smooth skin of your calf. with every stroke of his palm are fleeting memories of the past, burning deep into your limb. you hate the way your stomach sinks st the thought, “me being here and shit.”

“wouldn’t have let you in if i wasn’t.” you answer honestly, back pressed into the arm of the couch. you don’t understand how fast he’d gotten comfortable with being in your personal space just like that— you don’t understand how you’d allowed him in your personal space just like that.

he nods, and the air is eerily quiet. you watch with furrowed brows as he traces shapes into your skin with his fingertip, a frenzy of emotions resembling those of turbulence all in cerulean eyes. he’s torn— you can see it in the way his nose scrunches, as if he’s debating on whether he should voice out his thoughts or not. whether it’s worth debriefing— if this is his last shot or not.

with all this time passed, he’s still so easy to read.

“what is it?” you sigh, albeit irritated. the last thing you’d planned when you got rid of your friends in favour of having your ex over was this weird ass tension roaming. crazy sentence to speak— you know, but you were really hoping it’d be less talking involved and more sexing. it wasn’t that you were against conversing with him, but the way he was choosing to go about it was just so. . . awkward .

he senses the irritation laced in your question and immediately chuckles. his laugh sounds breathless, almost dry, but he shakes his head. his free hand swipes at his nose, a tic of his you noticed years ago whenever he’s feeling bashful or caught, and clears his throat.

“how’d you and sukuna happen?” he rips off the bandaid, and asks you the last question you wanted to hear. the tracing on your leg slows down, and your arms tighten a bit around your torso.

you let out a puff of air. if gojo notices your discomfort, he doesn’t mention it. in fact, he doesn’t pull the question back at all— he stares at you intensely, as if baring into your soul, as if the answer to his question will determine whether the boulder weighted on his shoulders will free him of restraint or not.

as if he still stood a chance or not.

“not much to say,” you shrug, as dismissive as possible. he doesn’t budge, the same intensity in his gaze and you roll your eyes, “honest to god. we broke up, he was there at the right time and shit happened.”

the words simmer into the stillness of the night, and he swipes his tongue over his lips pensively, “were y’all ever official?�� he pushes, and you click your tongue against your teeth, offering him a deadpanned look. seriously, as if he didn’t know his own friend— in what world was sukuna anything worthy of official?

“god, no.” you shudder, and he nods again. “you know your friend.”

“i don’t,” gojo counters, momentarily wrapping his hand around your ankle. it fits as perfectly as it did all those years ago, where thumbs at your anklet— another prized possession he’d gotten you. your face heats in embarrassment, and he flicks his eyes to glance at you, a fleeting smirk on his lips, before staring back at the jewelry, “going after my ex girlfriend is not something i expected. i don’t know him at all.”

fair enough, you think to yourself. there has to be some lingering resentment towards you for the same reason. had the tables been turned and he’d gone after one of your closest friends, you would’ve cut him off from your life completely. you were being truthful— it wasn’t anything remotely serious with sukuna, not even close to how it’d been with gojo, but you could see it as a matter of principle. you’d already taken the initiative to break up with him first, and going after his homeboy?

god, you had questionable morals.

“it’s different with you,” he feeds in, as if he could read your thoughts. it was probably written all over your face, the scrunch in your brows never letting up. his index finger slides beneath the band of your anklet, the contrast of the silver shade lining perfectly against his complexion, “‘s hard to explain, but you broke up with me so you technically owe me no loyalty— besides, i get why you ended things. never blamed you.”

now that peaks your interest. he gets why you ended things with him? he never blamed you? you clear your throat, forcing the question out, “you do?”

“of course,” he shrugs naturally, as if it hadn’t taken you eons to conclude. as if it hadn’t broke you apart when you’d realized how unneeded you were, “i honestly expected it. you deserved better than what i was giving. you must’ve been lonely— work had always taken a big part of my time, and that left you behind in the dust.”

you’re waiting for the punchline. he continues, “i can’t lie to you— i was wishing you’d resort to cheating over breaking up. that way you’d still be mine, even if it was temporarily,” he chuckles, a soft shade of pink dusting over his cheekbones, as he sniffs, “corny, i know. but you didn’t deserve putting up with my bullshit, so you left. time is of the essence, and that was the one thing i never seemed to give you. you fell out of it— out of love, so. . . i’m sorry.”

words cannot seem to leave you. you’re left utterly speechless— that had been so far from the reason, the realization sitting bitterly at the pit of your stomach. anything, literally anything, would’ve been better than hearing him lie to you again.

“that. . .” you inhale a sharp breath, steadying yourself, “is nowhere near the reason why we broke up.”

he stops in his caress. you think he got whiplash from how fast his neck snaps, eyeing you incredulously. he genuinely seems so confused, and you hate it. to think he’d show up with some lame ass excuse, so far stretched from the truth of the matter, and expected you to believe that. to believe him.

he blinks slowly, “i don’t understand.”

you try to pull your leg away from his lap, feeling like he was stripping you bare of the last bit of dignity you had left, wanting to rip you open. he presses the weight of his hand lightly, urging you to stay near while simultaneously giving you the option to pull away. the ball was in your court yet again.

“wait— help me understand,” the pad of his thumb rolls over your ankle bone gently— far too intimately. your feet curl away, protectively, and his fingers stroke at the ball of your heel, “please. what drove you away? what was it i did?”

there’s a pang in your chest. does he really plan on keeping this up? right in your face? it was one thing wishing him well despite the obvious, but dragging it out even a year later was a bit much. inviting him over was starting to seem like a terrible idea.

“i fell out of love?” you parrot, unbelieving. “gojo— i’m not the one who fell out of anything. i gave you a way out, and you happily took it,” his face contorts into a deeper state of confusion. you huff, “i’m not blaming you for it or anything, but shit, don’t get up in here with lies to cover your ass.”

“lies?” he whispers, to himself, running his free fingers through tousled white locks. he stares at your anklet hardly, like the gift has all the answers he’s looking for. you don’t think he’s avoiding eye contact, but he seems so distraught, so out of the loop, that broadway ought to sign him to a new movie deal. what an actor.

“time is of the essence and you failed to give it?” you continue regardless, throat restricting as it burns in an emotion you’re far too familiar with. suddenly, you feel like you’re twenty five again, left to your own devices and thoughts in the emptiness of his apartment, dressed in your prettiest outfit and another failed date night. “i never gave a shit about that, i knew how much of a hardworking man you were. i took it to the chest— anything to keep you from leaving. you stopped loving me, gojo.”

his jaw falls slack, mouth gaping and you blink your lashes furiously to prevent tears from appearing. god, this was so humiliating, bearing your heart raw in front of your ex boyfriend, “y/n, i never—”

“spare me,” you scoff, mortified by the rush of emotions coursing through you. you take a deep breath in, calming yourself to avoid further explosive feelings, “this isn’t me saying i was the perfect girlfriend. i know i wasn’t— you know i wasn’t, and piling a spiralling partner on top of all the shit you were dealing with wasn’t an option. that’s fine,” it was fine. it didn’t matter, “doesn’t matter anymore. i broke up with you, you didn’t fight to stay, and we both moved on. shit happens.”

it hurt a lot. the sound of the door clicking shut, followed by the crack splitting in your chest. the run towards your bathroom, emptying your contents from both your stomach and heart. you were undeniably a mess, that period of time it took for you to recover. you would never voice it out loud, but you’d been praying he’d tell you just how wrong you were. how he needed you in his life. how you weren’t a burden to him. how he loved you enough to fight through it all.

he hadn’t.

there’s a soft hum in the silence. the sound of your clock ticking near the entrance door. the pounding of your heart against your rib cage. seconds turn into minutes of quietness, and it does no good to your mind. you’re focusing your gaze on the inanimate objects in your apartment, anything to dismiss the reality of the situation. your leg feels cold as his hand pulls away suddenly.

he rolls his tongue against his cheek. another tic of his— he’s formulating his word choice, carefully. you’d seen a ton of this before, though it usually followed a deep sigh and a you’re good baby, trust me. the more you’d see it, the more anxious you became. and christ, if that anxiety wasn’t forming right back.

it takes a while for him to speak, and every passing breath had your chest tightening. he runs his hand across his face, tiredly. when he pulls it away, there’s a melancholic smile on his face, “i think there’s a lot that needs to be addressed. jesus, i always knew you sucked at communicating but this is something else.”

you glare at him. he doesn’t mind it, continuing, “no, you weren’t the perfect girlfriend. but you were my girlfriend, and that’s all that mattered to me. you wanna talk about spiralling? nothing i’m not familiar with— you’re the only reason i didn’t let myself fall into that rabbit hole. you kept me going after graduation. i worked as hard as i did to make sure you wouldn’t have to lift a finger around me. that was the end goal— you were end goal.”

gagged is what you felt. nothing else pure shock. he doesn’t stop there. he isn’t merciful anymore.

“i know i didn’t go about it the right way,” a regretful puff of air is released, “i canceled on you often. our phone calls were shorter, our texts were vaguer and at some point i’d forgotten what you tasted like. but i never loved you any less. not once, even after we argued. not to say i’ve converted into those spiritual people, but you’re the closest thing to a soulmate i’ve experienced.”

shit, you weren’t tripping. he felt it too. fuck. the weight of his words made it impossible to steer him away. you want to intercept, to call him a liar and turn a blind ear at his confession, to shield yourself but how could you when every word he spoke broke the bricks you’d built down?

“i’m not an asshole— i could feel you slipping away. i did try my damned hardest to reel you back in, as you’d done with me. clearly that hadn’t worked how i was hoping it would,” a bitter laugh, or maybe a resentful one. towards you or himself? you wouldn’t know, “it’s because i loved you so much, i let you go. i knew i was losing you, and when you finally came to me, the right thing to do was agree. why keep you from reaching your fullest potential? you weren’t happy with me, trying to fight the inevitable was cruel.”

the inevitable. letting you go was the right choice to make because fighting the inevitable was cruel. he loved you so much he had to let you go because you deserved more than what he had to offer. you call bullshit— in what right did he have to make that choice for you? what right did you have to make that choice for him?

it’s too much at once. your eyes burn with a remorseful feeling, your heart aches in agony and your mind is clouded with thoughts. there your ex boyfriend sat, wide eyes still as blue as when he’d once been yours, presenting you his heart raw in cupped hands— and you still couldn’t find it in you to believe him fully. everything yet nothing made sense. vulnerability was a scary thing, and you weren’t ready to face it.

so, you kiss him.

his breath is taken out of his chest as you lean forward, sealing his mouth shut. you can’t take any more of his merciless words, and the only way to get your mind off it is by getting on it. he feels stiff against you, pupils dilating as you mould lips with his own. your hand travels to the back of his neck, sitting on your knees as you hold him still.

and with a faint lip smack, he pulls away ever so slightly, hands hovering awkwardly over your waist, his breath warm and fanning your cupid’s bow, “wait—”

“don’t wanna talk,” you interrupt, placing another chaste kiss on his lips. he tastes as good as the day you left him. and with another soft smack, your voice lowers, reduced to a whisper, “you gonna fuck me or not?”

he blinks and you stare back at him, full of conviction. a simple yes or no question— and he could gladly see himself out if his answer didn’t satisfy you. his hands finally rest on your waist, and you take it as an invitation to straddle over his hips. he eases your movements by aiding, lifting you just barely to sit on him. his hands fit just as they did all those times ago. a sour, bittersweet feeling— fingertips caressing the nakedness of your torso beneath your camisole.

your back arches as he finds your sensitive spots with quickness. he’d always been great at that, leaving trails of goosebumps past his teasing touches.

“you’re doing it again,” he mumbles against your lips, ever the hypocrite, fingers gripping at your waist like a vice. he rolls your hips over his own, reeling in the softness of your palms cupping at his face. you ignore him when he continues, still nibbling on his bottom lip the way he loves, “you can’t— mmh, avoid this forever.”

maybe not, but you sure as hell could right now. the tip of your noses bump into one another as you tilt your head, deepening the kiss. you want to rid your mind of these plaguing thoughts, ones that made you doubt everything you thought you knew. losing control was out of the question, so naturally you needed it back into your grasp.

sex was an easy way to do that.

“yes or no, gojo.” you give him one last chance, grinding your hips down on his awakening dick. you feel his bulge through his pair of sweats, the print so evident you wondered why he was trying to fight it. the sight alone had your panties dampening in your arousal, uncomfortably sticky against your loungewear.

he hums in between kisses, a false pretend of debating his options. his fingers slip beneath the waistband of your shorts and past your panties, fondling at the flesh that sat beneath. he could fake it all he wants, but fuck chivalry— he was turning to mush the more you sucked at his tongue, licking at the crevice of the roof of his mouth.

it’s when you sink your teeth into the flesh of pink lips, not hard enough to draw blood but enough to draw a moan from him, he comes to a conclusion. he nods his head, snaking his arms to wrap at your waist tighter as finally kisses you back.

“it’s always a yes.” for you. he doesn’t say it, doesn’t need to, but you hear it and dismiss it. no more lovey doveyness and time to get to the nitty gritty of shit— getting your back blown out. the very thought alone is enough to put a smile on your lips.

bingo.

your bedroom door hardly shuts before he pins you against it. he’s annoyingly big— tall in height and wide in weight. he towers over you comically, hands roaming at every inch of your body as he drinks you up. his lips seek yours desperately, sliding over your glossy ones with practice that suggests hints of comfort.

your arms loop at his neck, and his at your waist. his mouth hardly lets up of yours, mumbling a little jump, as you comply with ease. thighs trapping him in your hold, you then find yourself face to face with him as he lifts you, large palms cupping at your ass. you fit just as perfectly in his hands as you did years ago, flesh so fat he gropes it tenderly.

the walk from the door to your bed passes in the blink of an eye, a timeframe you find pointless to recall as you indulge in the taste of him through his tongue. his presence is so overwhelmingly powerful— every touch and caress at your body reducing your limbs to mush. you cling to him, either out of safety reasons or desire, tilting your head from side to side to deepen the lip-to-lip action.

when he gets to the edge of your bed, he lowers you until your toes reach the floor. due to the difference in height, your lips part, a thin string of saliva connecting from both your mouths as proof of your unison. the blue shade of his orbs darken with desire, eyelids lowering as he drinks up the sight of you— lips plump and swollen, slick in saliva, chest heaving from lack of oxygen.

he raises a hand from your waist to cup at your face, and you detest the way your lean into his touch. your cheek fits in his large palm, and he swipes a thumb at your bottom lip, collecting your shared spit onto the pad of his digit. as he smears the fluid further across your mouth, he prods his thumb a little further— testing out the waters, wanting to see if you’d cave into old habits.

naturally, you allow it, his thumb swallowed by your puckered lips. you roll your tongue over his finger and your eyes never leave his— hoping to convey the rush of emotions you feel through your sultry gaze. your core throbs in want, your stomach erupting in butterflies and your heart pounding unnecessarily. unspoken words you’re positive he understood, if the way he groans when your teeth sink lightly into his digit said anything.

“you’re gonna be the death of me,” he mumbles, popping his finger back out. it’s coated in saliva, and like the freak he is, pops it into his own mouth. once he’s had his fill, he removes his hand from his mouth, and lowers it to your fleshy waist, slipping past the waistband of your panties, “take these off— ‘m hungry, need a taste of that pussy.”

your cheeks nearly split from your excitement, and you comply to his order, gripping at the hem of your shorts to pull them down to your ankle. he assists you despite the previous demand, his own hands atop of yours, a warmth and sense of security so familiar. when your shorts reach past your mid thigh, you allow him to meet you halfway.

he pulls your shorts down to your ankles, lowering himself to a knee. his movements are agonizingly slow, basking in the sight of your thighs in contrast of the shade of your loungewear. he steadies a hand onto your calf, patting it lightly, and you lift your leg just barely, permitting him to slide the shorts off your ankle and tossing it aside.

when the item is discarded, he redirects his focus back to you. he pampers your skin in kisses— delicate but hungry, trails of moisture crawling back up at your inner thighs and shooting right to your core. he looked unexplainably sexy on his knees, littering your body in hushed praises, the tip of his nose nudging at your soft skin. you bit your lip in attempts to cease it from wobbling at the intimacy he was providing.

“god, you smell so good,” he speaks into you, hands snaking to the back of your thighs, pressing you forward into him. your panty covered cunt presents itself right before him, and he plants his nose right into your intimates, your body shuddering as his nose bumps into your clit deliciously. a shaky breath escapes you, and his hands travel upwards to play with your ass. “turn around, wanna eat it from the back.”

the words are taken from you when his hand slaps your ass encouragingly, releasing a mini squeal, “you’re still too freaked out.”

“mhm, something like that,” you don’t see it, as you’re occupied on spinning on your feet to plant your hands on your matters for stability, but you’re positive he’s smirking. your arch your back for him, wanting to properly present the meal he plans on devouring. your cunt oozes slick against your thong just thinking about how he’s going to do you in, “there’s that arch,” a hand slides in the curve of your lower back, before snapping the band of your thong. it recoils against your cheek and you jerk forward at the sting.

“oh? did that hurt?” he taunts, and as you’re about to protest, he does it yet again. the snap is intense but never painful, but the nerve he had to play around like your pussy wasn’t a few centimetres away from his face. you don’t acknowledge how your panties cling even tighter to your folds.

“fuck off,” you curse through gritted teeth, but your hips wiggle backwards in attempt to get him to hurry it up. as if now was any time to tease— you couldn’t stand it when he did it all those years ago, and your feelings haven’t changed since, “get on with it. . . the fuck?”

you hear him sigh, almost disappointedly, and it only aggravates you further. your brows furrow in annoyance and you think you feel a vein tick at your temple.

“still so disrespectful,” gojo tuts, rubbing at your booty tenderly. so he wasn’t exactly wrong, but how was he expecting you to react when he’d just said he was going to eat you out, and proceeds to do anything but that? of course there’s going to be a little pout on your lips, “we gotta work on that attitude of yours.”

your face twists into a look of further aggravation, and you tilt your head back, readying whatever other bratty objections you had— though you’re ultimately interrupted by a sharp sting that spreads across your ass.

the strike of his palm against your cheek sprawls into an intense heat, the pain oddly pleasurable, and the moan that rips out of your chest is impossible to suppress. your eyes nearly jump out of their sockets at the audacity, and right as you’re about to complain, he does it again. and again.

“o-okay, shit!” you attempt to voice out, but he’s relentless, delivering blow after blow onto the same ground. there’s a curve in his palm, and it amplified the sound across the room. despite your protests, you can’t deny every jolt of pain rushes to your clit. you’re positive he knows you’re enjoying this, “gojo— fuck, okayyy!”

to your pleasure, he eases the slaps, opting to smoothen his hand flat across the reddened flesh. he hums pensively, the heat of your skin radiating against his palm in a way that forces a smile on his lips, “ ‘okay?’ what do you mean by that, baby?”

you clench your teeth at his faux ignorance. you know exactly what he wants from you, and you’re not sure if you’re able to give it to him as you are. an apology— he wants you to apologize, that bastard. your left cheek stings like a bitch, even with his now gentle touches, and your core is begging you to cooperate with him, in order for that attention it was neglected of. he is such a dickhead— putting you in a predicament like this one.

you swallow the last bit of dignity you hold, a constant reminder in the back of your mind that this was for the greater good— for the sake of your pussy. with a pained sigh, you tilt your head backwards to meet his playful gaze that stares back at you, right below the plump of your ass, and you muster the cutest look you can give.

doe eyes paired with a little pout, “‘m sorry. . . for the attitude,” you’re not sorry at all, but you desperately want your cunt in his mouth, so you do what you have to do, “can you eat it now? please?”

he flashes you a million dollar smile, all thirty twos on full display, and it takes every ounce of willpower in you not to roll your eyes right then and there. he was so full of shit, his eyes might as well brown. but still, you knew he got off on this kind of thing, and when he presses a quick kiss at the print of your lips, he replies, “of course, sweet girl— only because you asked so nicely.”

there’s no further need to speak, as you feel your thong being pushed to the side, followed by a cold breeze hitting your bare cunt, meshed with warm breathe as he feasts .

gojo eats you out like he has something to prove, and you know what— maybe he does. to prevent you from straying from him, he grounds you with two firm hands gripping at your ass. he spreads the flesh apart, his tongue lapping at your slick greedily. you can’t tell who’s moans are louder— yours or his, the man so engaged in sucking at your clit, nibbling on the bundle of nerves with practiced ease. you hold onto the sheets on your bed with dear life, thighs trembling as you struggle to hold yourself up.

“fuck, don’t stop,” you whine, pushing your hips further back, your mind overcame with utter greediness for more of that insatiable pleasure. you might as well have swallowed him whole into you, just as he’s swallowing you whole into him, his tongue diving deep past your hole and into your folds. he flicks his tongue expertly, licking at every crevice and nook of your cave, his jaw working overtime as his bottom lip never lets up at your clit.

your entire pussy is consumed by him, no area going neglected— drool slips past his mouth and spills onto your floor. a familiar heat licks at the pit of your stomach, a telltale that your dam is bound to burst anytime soon. he remedies your ache with another painful spank at your ass, groaning into your pussy when you clamp down on his tongue.

he was so fucking nasty— fucking into you with his tongue like he needed this more than you did. he makes out with your cunt, like he was a starving man on death row. at a particular cruel angle of his tongue fucking, your body would react with an all consuming tremble, fingers clawing at your duvets, your lungs releasing pathetic mewls. and the further you pushed back into his merciless mouth, the closer his nose nudged at your puckered forbidden hole.

he pulls away with a gasp, subbing his mouth out for his fingers, the pads of three fingers rubbing messily at your sloppy lips. the sound it creates is downright filthy, so painfully loud that it damn near drowns out your own moans.

“pretty fuckin’ pussy,” he spits a wad of saliva at your already soaked cunt, further amplifying the squelching sounds. he drags his fingers down to your clit, pinching at the bud with enough pressure to have your knees buckling, before sliding back upwards to your clenching hole. he slides into your entrance, index and middle fingers twisting in with ease, “bet she missed me, hm?”

“y-yes!” you nod mindlessly, your high creeping up on you as he works himself into you. taking six inches of fingers twice was a task in itself— the average length of a man’s dick serving purpose as fingering was just downright disrespectful. his knuckles poke at your silky walls, stretching you out to the best of his abilities, “shit— oh fuck, ‘m gonna cum!”

to your statement, he latches his lips back to your neglected clit, sucking on the bud as if he were intentionally trying to milk you dry. he hums at your taste, the vibrations shooting right up your alley and into the knot tightening in your guts— and when he curls his fingers upwards, at that spot that has stars dancing beneath your eyelids, the dam breaks. that knot stood no chance.

“oh goddd,” you cry out, spraying your release all over. it dribbles out your pussy and past the lower half of his face, to which his jaw widens as his mouth gapes— greedily aiming to slurp at your juices while simultaneously flicking your bean. the stimulation has your brain going dumb, as you fall flat onto your bed, drool collecting at the corner of your mouth and staining your sheets damp.

he lets you ride out the euphoric bliss, the movements of his fingers and the lapping of his tongue slowing down the more your body reacted to the overstimulation. when he deems you well spent, he lets up, slipping his fingers out and popping them back in his mouth, swirling your taste across his pallets, “as sweet as ever,” rising back to his full height.

you haven’t came that hard in a while, limbs reduced to nothing as you merge into one with your bed. your legs are still trembling, and your chest heaves as you exhale deep breaths. letting your eyelids close shut, you take the time to regroup yourself from that mind shattering orgasm. who the fuck had he been fucking that forced him to keep this skill? granted, you had no right to complain but holy shit, he was no fucking noob.

you feel the weight of his body press on top of you, a well-built chest meeting your moist back. it doesn’t take much to realize he’s hovering over you. his lips litter kisses at the column of your neck, moving up to the shell of your ear, leaving a trail of goosebumps after each embrace, “you tappin’ out already?” gojo snickers at your shell of a body, and you kiss your teeth at his typical mockery, “what happened to my champ while i was gone?”

“fuck off,” you pout, a little embarrassed by the fact that you really were retired from the game. sure, you were getting dicked down real good by your previous partner (question mark), but it never had you as exhausted as you currently were. there was absolutely nothing gojo satoru couldn’t do, and that ticked you off to no end, “nobody said shit about tappin’ out.”

“hm. . .” he hums, nuzzling his nose into your jugular, his hips grinding into the cleft of your ass. it’s impossible to ignore the bulge poking into you, and you doubt he was trying to hide it regardless, his hips rolling against the plushness of your behind, “guess sukuna didn’t do as good of job as he should’ve.”

that has your eyelids opening right back up. talk about an awkward situation— bringing up you and your ex’s (question mark) sex life while having sex with your other ex was a double edged predicament in itself. had you agreed, which lowkey wasn’t entirely wrong, you’d be stroking the fuck out of gojo’s ego and be disrespecting sukuna. but had you disagreed, you could end up on gojo’s wrong side and fumble an entire night worth of dicking.

so, once more, you take the easy way out, at the expense of inflating the white haired man’s ego, much to your dismay, “think you can do better?”

he stays silent for a while. in what you assume is him coming up with an answer to your question, his kisses travel to the dead centre of your shoulder blades, wet and open mouthed, as they crawl lower down your spine. with every kiss, your body caves into a state of relaxation, as if he was undoing every stress clouding at your hazed mind with his mouth alone.

he lands at the middle of your back, before he pulls away abruptly. and just as soon as he started, he was finished— removing himself off your body entirely. panic settles quickly in your stomach, as you turn your head around to see what he was up to. had you unintentionally hurt his feelings? damn, and here you were enjoying the body worship.

“what are you—” your words are cut off as his hands cup at your waist. he slides you back towards the edge of the bed, your feet planted on the floor once more. you feel some residue of your previous orgasm beneath your heels, eugh. you don’t have much time to spend thinking about how gross it feels when a hand holds your shoulders, and lifts you right back up.

your brows jump to your hairline in surprise at the sudden manhandling, though you can’t deny you found just a bit sexy. with his chest pressed into your back once more, you can feel his heartbeat thudding at the blade of your left shoulder, the organ withholding a steady rhythm— the tempo of a lullaby you’d once been accustomed to. and then big arms wrap around your frame, and holds you.

you hate the way your body folds so easily to his touch. it’s been an entire year, and despite your mind shouting at you for the intimacy you’re allowing to gallop right back into your life, your heart craves it. the sense of security his embrace offers you alone makes the least of sense, but you blindly lean into him, allowing yourself to be deluded for the time being. he won’t be yours as soon as this is over, so you might as well take the most advantage of the situation.

it takes a minute for either of you to speak. here you stood— half naked and legs sore, but still happily in his arms. his cologne is still as rich and dominating as it’d been all those times ago. he breaks the silence first, his chin resting above your shoulder, as he mumbles, “you really hurt my feelings, you know.”

to some degree, you know you did. about what exactly? you weren’t sure, but still, you offer him what you believe he wants, the realization leaving a bitter taste in your mouth, “i’m sorry.”

“‘s all good,” he kisses your cheek so tenderly that your neck cranes to the side to meet his gaze. gojo had always been so readable when it came to emotions, as he always wore his heart on his sleeve, but even with all the knowledge you knew about, you weren’t prepared for the look in his eyes. raw, unfiltered emotions. you only notice the close proximity between you both when your noses bump into one another. he shoots you a warm smile, “could never be upset with you. you hold that power over me.”

it’s you who kisses him first, and he returns the favour with more intensity. it’s an awkward positioning for your neck, but you don’t let up regardless of the ache in your joints. his mouth stays on yours as if you were his lifeline, tongues sloshing one over the other, brushing your lips together so gingerly.

in the midst of his tongue down your throat, he slips a hand in between your thighs, cupping at your abandoned pussy. the casual brush of his fingers at your core sent a breathy whine from your throat right into his mouth, and it only motivated him to work harder, rubbing slow patterns into your throbbing clit. your hips chase the feeling, riding the wave of his fingers.

he pulls away from your mouth, just barely, mumbling against your kiss bitten lips, “one of these days you’re gonna let me finish speaking,” followed by a knowing smile. sure, it could be seen as a flaw, but it was the only way you could protect yourself while keeping him within arm’s reach. never ready to have him but never prepared to let him go, “we can do that later— gotta blow your back out first.”

you couldn’t agree more.

it all happens so quickly— he retrieves his hand from between your thighs, having collected your juices at his fingertips, before lubricating his dick. he pumps at the length leisurely, his bottom lip tugged by his top row of teeth, and the groans he lets out are enough to have you squeezing your thighs eagerly, your cunt aching and ready to go. in the midst of your eagerness, you slip your hand behind you and catch his twitching cock, working your wrist right above his own, jerking him off.

a deep groan grumbles from his chest, and he instantly stops your hand from moving any further. you frown at his ceasing, but when you tilt your head to voice out your confusion, he offers a sheepish smile, “don’t wanna cum too soon,” ever the minute man, he was.

though, you soon find yourself regretting your own thoughts the very instant you feel the tip of his dick pushing past your entrance.

there’s a blended harmony of both your moans that bounces off the walls. his fingers dig deep into the flesh of your hips, holding onto you so tightly you’re positive you’ll bruise, and you clamp down on his intruding dick so tightly you’re positive you never want to let him go. the initial stretch is a feeling you’ll never get used to, but the sensation is all but unwanted.

“fuckkk, y/n,” he moans right into your ear, his voice so full of want, you can’t help but understand exactly where he’s coming from. he pulls his hips back, almost entirely, though his tip stays inside. it takes him a second to regroup, mumbling incoherent words under his breath, before he plunges back into your cunt.

and from that point on, it’s wraps. he fucks into you like a madman— as if he’d been punishing you for your crimes. punishing you for sleeping with another man. punishing you for leaving him a year and a half ago. punishing you for punishing him. his pace is ruthless— hips meeting your ass as fast as he’d pull out, pounding into your little hole to mould it into the shape of him.

he’s thick, this time on perverted shit.

you’re so painfully full of him, and despite your arms stretched outwards to grip at the sheets that had suffered more than enough of your abuse on them, your walls never let go of him. you don’t want him to pull out ever, utterly obsessed with the rough pace he set from the jump. it feels impossible keeping the curve of your back when the tip of his length repetitively attacks at your golden spots.

“ohmygoddd,” you words come out slurry, head lolling forward uselessly. if he kept fucking you like this, you weren’t going to let him leave again. stuck in an endless loop of bliss, with every thrust into your folds, his balls would slap at your clit and drive you insane, “y’re d-doing me s’gooddd,”

“yeah?” he eggs on, his voice as breathless as you’d been, though his pacing would never suggest so. there’s a hypnotic recoil of your ass bouncing back onto his pelvis that indulges him into disrupting it, delivering a new spank at your cheeks. you cry out at the feeling, and he strikes again, hips never letting up, “tell me more baby.”

you rise at your tip toes when you feel yourself sinking, legs giving out yet again. you hold yourself up at your elbows, a newfound confidence pushing your hips back to match his pace. when he heaves out a loud moan, you’re encouraged to keep going. the melody of your skins slapping against each other echoes into the stillness of the night, arching your back the further he plunges into your guts. you’re so turned on, the evidence creaming around the perimeter of his cock, easing the slides of his dick inside of you.

“toruuu,” you whine, too fucked out to notice your first mistake— calling him by his favorite nickname. at that given moment, you couldn’t care any less, the intense heat in your guts growing once more. the curve of his dick reaches spots you don’t think anybody could reach, almost as if he was made entirely for you, “you’re so big— can feel you, nghhh, everywhere!”

“that’s cause i am everywhere,” you think you can hear him smirking behind you. though, he has every right to feel entitled, with how much of a mess he’s reduced you to. he rolls his hips deep, a firm bulge forming into your tummy. as if he’s got a sixth sense or eye, he leans forward to rest his chest against your back— your eyes rolling back from the new angle. he slides a hand beneath your stomach and presses at the bulge hard. you can’t help the squeal you let out, “that’s me right there.”

you nod your head feverishly, the applied pressure on your stomach pushing his cock right at your cervix. oh god, he was going to kill you. what a wonderful way to go— all judgements clouded in favour of an eight inched dick penetrating your walls, “‘s all yours— mmh, always been.”

and that’d been your final mistake.

because the chuckle he lets out right into your ear is dark. the sounds shoot right up to your spine, shivers crawling up your back deliciously. he might as well be back stabbing you with how his cock plunged so sloppily out of your gaping cunt, “you always knew how to, fuck, pillowtalk,” he pants into your neck, his additional weight onto your shaking frame nothing short on welcoming. the hand pressing into your stomach lowers to your clit, and pinches meanly at the bud, “you know i’d, mmh, give you the world if you asked— my smart girl, shit.”

he’s so cruel, talking to you so lovingly despite it all. you tighten your eyes, in poor attempts to ignore the tenderness of the words fleeting his lips and focus instead on the stretch of your cunt down his dick. you feel yourself creaming on him, further proof of both your unison through his diabolical thrusts. he pinned you into place like this— unable to do anything but take what he gave you gratefully.

at a particular stroke at your abused golden spot, your body releases another tremor of shudders. it overtakes you from head to toe, a moan so ripe escaping your lips as you claw at ruined sheets. gojo works into aiming at that spot over and over again, each thrust more intense than the previous one. the change of his pace, slowing for a minute, draws you near the end of the line quicker than you’d anticipated.

“oh?” he grunts playfully, swaying his hips back and forth into your poor pussy. mercy is nowhere to be found, however, “you like it when i fuck you like this?” another agonizingly beautiful thrust at the same place, you can’t help but reward him with a cry. he’s fucking you into the damn mattress, and he has the balls to ask this question knowing the answer. still, you nod your head mutely, tears collecting at your lash line, and he nips at the skin on your jaw, “yeahhh you do.”

god, you do.

and suddenly, you can’t bring yourself to remember why you’d ever let go of dick this good. the kind that would have you taking the rubber off and considering finishing inside. the kind that had you babbling apologies for having done absolutely nothing wrong. the kind that made you begin to believe his careless whispers, empty promises to work things out.

in the midst of your delusions, he pulls you both back up from the bed, standing once again. at this new position, he reaches impossibly further into you, the difference in your heights making up for the inches he’s dug into you. his fingers dig in the column of your throat, the weight of his hand wrapped tightly at your neck. he’s everywhere at once, but simultaneously no where to be found. while you can feel his tip prodding at your most sensitive spot, you don’t feel the overwhelming force of love he once bore with open arms for you.

or was it you were feigning you don’t? because as he works himself back into you, at a pace so tender yet cruel, the line of boundaries you’d once set has been entirely deterred. a force so overwhelming, just like his entire being, bringing you right back to him as if you’d never left— nevermind the fact your thighs could barely support themselves, quaking pathetically. it was getting too much— everything was a lot.

“nahhh. . . don’t start running now.” you didn’t realize you were. the sheets are crumpled in your tight hold, while your other hand lightly pushes at his lower abdomen. you were a trooper, but there was only so much pleasurable torture you could handle. naturally, he pins your wrist at your spine to maintain his ruthless pace, and with another gentle yet cruelly empty promise, he coos, “not when i’ve just gotten you back.”

how the fuck did you get yourself in this mess?

oh right. . . tinder. you had a bone to pick with the ceo of that app right after you come back to your senses.

“i— i can’t,” you fumble at your words, the lack of oxygen catching up to you. you’re bound to his mercy— hands tied, breath nearly restricted, pussy obliterated, and yet, there’s nowhere else you’d want to be. the pressure on your throat lolls your head backwards, chin facing the ceiling as your eyes fall onto snowy lashes, “gonna cum again— oh fuckfuckfuck,”

and despite his brutality, he shoots you a sweet smile, the contrast in his words versus his actions grand, “right behind you, baby.”

you cum, and hard . much harder than you had before. you gush your fluids down his piercing cock, your folds squeezing him tight as you release. you think your mind blanks for a minute, an orgasm so powerful, you fear your eyes would stay stuck at the back of your skull. you shiver in his embrace, the insatiable desire racking your body from top to bottom.

when he pulls out, you fall flat yet again onto your stomach, face first. you assume you look like a puddle of nothingness, your limbs spent from the overexhaustion. but still, you find yourself in a similar position to prior, as gojo leans over your body, a hand holding him up as the other works on his jerking him cum out. smart move, not finishing inside, though a weird feeling of disappointment sits in your stomach, swapping the fiery heat from your orgasm.

he sinks his teeth into your shoulders as you wince, emptying himself right onto your lower back. it runs hot and smooth into the dimples of your back, that you can’t help but stretch your limp arm towards the mess to collect the residue on your fingers. you pop them into your mouth, his taste still so familiar as he plops right at your side, face up.

there’s a thick silence that fills the sex scented room. you wonder what is going through his brain now that the lust demon that was half his ego had been taken care of. was he on the same page as you were? had he realized just how messy this could turn out? he’s too quiet for a man of his nature— and that terrified you shitless. no matter the outcome, you’re ready to kick him out. post nut clarity was a scary thing— it revealed the violent truth of how tempting the flesh could be, even with consequences on the line.

you want to beat him to it. the last thing you need on your consciousness is your ex boyfriend who’d you invited into your home a year after you broke up with him, leaving you. he seemed petty enough to do the eye for an eye shtick— it wasn’t too out of character for him.

with a heavy heart and sigh, you turn your head to the side where he lays comfortably. the words want to die in your throat, but your urge them out, the sooner the better, “you should—”

“no.” he interrupts, followed by a yawn.

you frown at that, brows scrunching as you insist that yet again, “you need to—”

“nah.” gojo cuts you off yet again, rolling onto his side. his dick falls limp onto your bed, and you don’t think about the mess it’s making. to be fair, you’d done far worse. and it was proven difficult to care about that mess when he brought a finger to play with your loose hairs, cerulean eyes zeroing in on them, “i’m tired. let’s get you cleaned up and go to bed.”

“you’re not listening to me.” you click your tongue, a little desperate to have him hear you. you’re scared to keep him around longer, because you know you’ll grow attached again and that already ended terribly once, and took you forever and a half to get over. he has to leave and right now, “you have to go.”

gojo hums at that. he stops the twirling of your hair, rather reluctantly, and finally meets your sharp gaze. he still looks at you like you hung the stars in the sky, “why?”

you narrow your eyes, “you know why,” you shouldn’t have to explain why two exes cozying up after indulging into each other was a bad idea. common sense, you figured, but was it common sense to have him over in the first place? a flurry of various emotions coursing over you laced with exhaustion had you overthinking like a motherfucker, “this was a bad idea.”

he trails his finger along the slope of your clenched jaw, and you don’t think about the fact it immediately relaxed at his touch. the longer he traced your skin, the longer he kept looking at you like that, you were wavering in your own logic. you’d both gotten what you wanted in the first place, so why was it he was still here? the rational decision would be to pretend this never happened and part ways again, but why was the thought of him locking the door behind him once again at your expense making you feel sick to your stomach?

when his finger lands at your pouty lips, he taps his index finger twice against the flesh. naturally, your pout deepens. his eyes flick from your mouth to your shying gaze, and his index swaps for his thumb. he runs the pad of his finger across the reddened surface, and his voice falls a few octaves lower, hushed for nobody else but you to hear, “you don’t want me to leave.”

you don’t.

he takes your silence as acceptance, and plants a soft kiss to your lips. it’s enough to rid your mind of its plaguing doubts in the meanwhile. and when his hand slides to cup at the back of your neck, ultimately deepening it, you can’t find it in you to care about the consequences for the time being. not when he was swallowing you whole like he was the one terrified to feel you slip from his fingers. you melt into him far too easily.

well. . . that was something you’d deal with in the morning.

tinder: 1, you: 0.

now can y’all stop calling me a deadbeat 🙎‍♂️

[sherewrytes]

Just wanted to drop some Ony references for those Fics I got going for those who read Love and Gunshots and is reading the lil multipart short fic series im working on called What these bitches want

This is what Ony looks like in reference to those fics

[sherewrytes]

WHAT THESE BITCHES WANT FROM A NIGGA

Cause i missed writting for Ony outside of Love and Gunshots

here is a lil fic inspired by me listening to way to much DMX songs

this def gonna have a part two

The studio was alive with energy. The faint hum of a beat looped through the speakers, low enough to talk over but loud enough to keep the vibe right. Smoke curled through the air, the scent of something strong lingering as laughter bounced between the walls.

Eren sat at the mixing board, lazily twisting a knob as he leaned back in his chair, watching the session unfold. Armin stood nearby, scrolling through his phone, probably looking at projections or some business report none of them cared to hear about right now.

Connie was perched on the couch, a blunt tucked behind his ear, grinning as he scrolled through his notifications. He tapped his screen, shaking his head. "Man, they got Twitter goin' crazy right now. They swear me and Ony got a track droppin’."

Onyankopon sat in the corner, quiet but listening, one hand draped over his knee while the other nursed a bottle of water. He wasn’t much for social media, but he already knew what they were saying. His name stayed in people’s mouths—sometimes for music, sometimes for… other things.

“Let ’em talk,” Ony muttered. “Ain’t nobody confirm nothin’.”

Connie smirked. “Yeah, but you know how this industry work. Rumors turn into facts real quick.”

Eren chuckled. “Ain’t that the truth.” He nudged Armin. “Yo, business man, how we capitalizing off this?”

Armin didn’t look up from his phone. “By actually finishing the song, maybe?”

That got a laugh out of everyone except Ony, who only shook his head.

Then Mikasa spoke up, cutting through the noise like she always did. “Speaking of rumors,” she said, arms crossed, “you got an interview tomorrow, Ony.”

Ony’s face stayed unreadable, but his response was instant. “Nah, I ain’t doin’ all that.”

Mikasa barely blinked. “It’s already booked.”

“So? Cancel it.”

“Not happening.”

Ony exhaled through his nose, irritation creeping into his voice. “What for? I already know what they gon’ ask me. Same bullshit—‘What’s the album about?’ ‘What’s your process?’ ‘How many women you really got on rotation?’” He shook his head. “Tired of that shit.”

Mikasa stared him down, unmoved. “Then maybe you should be more careful about what you let people say about you.”

A sharp silence filled the room. Even Eren glanced up at that.

Ony ran a hand over his face, about to argue again, when Mikasa tilted her head and added—

“It’s with Y/N L/N.”

Everything stopped for a beat.

Ony didn’t say anything at first, but the slight hesitation—the way his fingers curled just a little tighter around his water bottle—didn’t go unnoticed.

Connie definitely noticed.

His eyes flicked to Ony, then back to Mikasa, and a slow grin stretched across his face. “Ohhh.” He dragged the word out, leaning forward with too much interest. “Now that’s interesting.”

Eren smirked. “Damn, bro. That name mean somethin’ to you?”

Ony scoffed, shaking his head. “Nah. Ain’t even like that.”

But the way he avoided looking at anybody said otherwise.

Mikasa, as usual, wasn’t here for the games. “Good,” she said flatly. “Then you won’t have a problem showing up.”

Ony didn’t respond right away. He just leaned back, tapping his fingers against his knee, thoughts running deeper than he let on.

Connie, watching him closely, only grinned wider. “Yeah… this gon’ be real interesting.”

The room settled back into a familiar rhythm, but there was a shift now—something hanging in the air that hadn’t been there before.

Ony leaned back, his jaw tight, tapping a slow rhythm against his knee while Connie watched him like he had the biggest secret in the world.

Eren, never one to let a moment slip by, chuckled as he twisted a few knobs on the soundboard. “Damn, I ain’t never seen you this quiet before, bro.”

Ony shot him a look. “Man, shut up.”

That only made Connie laugh harder. “Nah, ‘cause now I’m real curious. You of all people ain’t tryna do an interview? And with her?” He whistled low, shaking his head. “Secrets must be somethin’ serious.”

Ony exhaled sharply but didn’t take the bait. Instead, he stood up, rolling his shoulders like he was shaking something off. “Man, let’s just work.”

Eren smirked, already cuing up the beat. “Yeah, yeah. Time to put in work, big dog.”

The opening bassline hit, vibrating through the speakers, heavy and raw. The track was built for Ony—gritty, aggressive, something that hit you straight in the chest. And then Connie’s smooth, melodic touch came in, making the whole thing feel effortless.

Ony grabbed the headphones off the stand and adjusted the mic. He didn’t need the lyrics in front of him—he’d already been running the bars through his head all day.

Eren gave a nod from behind the glass. “Aight, run it from the top.”

The track kicked in fully, the instrumental pulsing. Connie stepped up first, his voice sliding in smooth:

🎶 "Uh… yeah." 🎶

He grinned, letting the words stretch out as he found the groove.

🎶 "What these women want from a nigga? Everybody askin’…" 🎶

Eren bobbed his head, already feeling it. Armin leaned back, watching with his usual calculating gaze, while Mikasa stayed posted by the door, arms crossed, as if mentally balancing business with personal bullshit.

Then Ony came in.

🎶 "What these women want from a nigga? Shit, I been tryna figure that out myself." 🎶

His voice was low, raspy—commanding. He wasn’t just rapping, he was telling a story.

🎶 "What these women want from a nigga? They love the name, but they don’t know the life." 🎶

The way he delivered it was cold, almost detached—like a man laying out facts, no sugarcoating. Connie picked up his cue, adding another layer to the track, his voice dripping with the kind of confidence that made women weak.

🎶 "Break ‘em off somethin’… Oh yeah, and by the way, it’s the N-Tity!" 🎶

Connie hit that perfect balance of cocky and smooth, grinning as he leaned back from the mic.

Eren let the beat ride for a second before cutting the track. The room sat in silence for a beat before Armin finally spoke.

“Yeah,” he nodded, impressed. “That’s gonna be a problem.”

Connie snickered. “You mean a hit?”

“Same thing.”

Ony pulled the headphones off, setting them back on the stand. The energy was right, the track was solid—but his mind was already somewhere else.

And Connie knew it.

He waited a moment before casually saying, “You know, I bet Y/N gon’ have a lot of questions about this one.”

Ony stilled for half a second. Then he shook his head, grabbing his water bottle. “Man, shut the hell up.”

Connie just grinned, stretching back on the couch. “Nah, I’m just sayin’… interviews get real personal sometimes.”

Eren chuckled under his breath. Armin smirked. Even Mikasa looked like she was holding back a comment.

Ony exhaled, rubbing his jaw. This interview was already getting on his nerves—and it hadn’t even happened yet.

Ony cracked his neck, rolling his shoulders like he was shaking something off. “Run it back.”

Eren didn’t even question it. He just reset the track, the bass creeping in again, that same grimy, no-nonsense energy filling the room.

Ony stepped up to the mic, gripping it like he had something to prove—not to them, but to himself.

🎶 "Come on, ma, you know I got a wife, And even though that pussy tight, I'm not gon' jeopardize my life—AIGHT?" 🎶

His voice hit harder this time, more raw, like he was talking directly to somebody.

🎶 "So what is it you want from a nigga?" 🎶

Connie, still chilling on the couch, let out a low “What?” in the background, matching Ony’s tone.

🎶 "I gave you; you gave me—" 🎶

Then Ony snapped, voice sharper—

🎶 "BITCH!" 🎶

Eren raised an eyebrow but said nothing, nodding along.

🎶 "I blazed you, you blazed me—COME ON!" 🎶

Connie grinned, chiming in smooth, “Yeah, yeah…”

Ony’s delivery was cold, every bar landing like a warning.

🎶 "Nothin’ more, nothin’ less, But you at my door willing to confess—" 🎶

Connie, right on cue: “Yeah, yeah…”

🎶 "That it’s the best you ever tested—" 🎶

🎶 "Aight!"—Connie crooned, voice buttery smooth.

Ony smirked a little, but his tone stayed ruthless.

🎶 "Better than all the rest, I'm like, 'Aight, girlfriend, hold up—'"

Connie jumped in again, sliding in that signature R&B swag—

🎶 "Tell me…"

And Ony closed it out, dropping the last line like a hammer—

🎶 "I gave you what you gave me, boo—a NUT!" 🎶

Eren cut the beat again, sitting back with a low whistle. “Sheesh.”

Armin smirked, clearly amused. “Well… that was direct.”

Connie laughed, throwing his arm over the back of the couch. “Nah, that shit was real.” He turned to Ony, smirking. “Yo, you think Y/N gon’ bring this up in the interview?”

Ony exhaled, rubbing his jaw. “Man, shut the hell up.”

That only made Connie laugh harder. “What? You know she gon’ ask you what these women really want.”

Eren smirked. “Hope you got a good answer ready.”

Ony didn’t respond, just grabbed his water bottle and took a slow sip, trying to act unbothered.

But everybody in the room knew better.

Mikasa, arms still crossed, gave Ony and Connie a sharp nod. “Run the chorus and the next verse for me.”

She wasn’t asking.

Eren smirked, pressing a button on the board. “Aight, y’all heard the boss lady.”

Connie rolled his shoulders, stepping back up to the mic. Ony exhaled through his nose, adjusting his stance.

The track restarted.

This time, the energy was locked in.

🎶 "What these bitches want from a nigga?" 🎶

Ony’s voice was rough, carrying that weight, that grit.

🎶 "What you want? (What you want?) What these bitches want from a nigga?" 🎶

Connie’s voice slipped in smooth, bouncing off Ony’s rawness, giving the chorus its perfect contrast.

🎶 "Really want… What these bitches want from a nigga? Shawty, I keep you up on it, Bling-blingin', all that jewelry, girl, I bought it—" 🎶

His voice dipped into a slick melody, smooth enough to make anybody believe every word.

🎶 "What these bitches want from a nigga? Ayo, tell me what you want from me… Baby, tell me what you want from me (so what you want?)” 🎶

The chorus hit hard, the beat knocking heavy behind their voices.

And just like that—Ony slid into his verse, zero hesitation.

🎶 "There was Brenda, Latisha (uh), Linda, Felicia (okay), Dawn, LeShaun, Ines, and Alicia (ooh)—" 🎶

Armin let out a low whistle under his breath.

🎶 "Teresa, Monica, Sharon, Nicki (uh-huh), Lisa, Veronica, Karen, Vicky —" 🎶

Connie couldn’t help but react. “Damn.”

🎶 "Cookie, well, I met her in a ice cream parlor (right), Tonya, Diane, Lori, and Carla (okay)—" 🎶

Mikasa’s expression stayed unreadable, but Eren was grinning behind the glass.

🎶 "Marina (uh), Selena (uh), Katrina (uh), Sabrina (uh), About three Kims (what?), LaToya and Tina—" 🎶

Connie leaned in, adding his smooth “Woo~” to the track.

🎶 "Shelley, Bridget, Cathy, Rasheeda (uh-huh), Kelly, Nicole, Angel, Juanita—" 🎶

🎶 “Damn.”—Connie again, his voice dripping with amusement.

🎶 "Stacy, Tracie, Rohna, and Ronda (what?), Donna, Yolanda (what?), Tawana, and Wanda (what?)—" 🎶

Ony’s voice was relentless, pushing each name out with weight, like a roll call of his past.

🎶 "Were all treated fairly, but yet and still, Bitches is on some other shit now that I'm fuckin' with Dru Hill—" 🎶

🎶 "But I'ma keep it real (what?), What the fuck you want from a nigga? What the fuck you want from a nigga? (Yeah!)" 🎶

Silence.

Then—

Armin smirked, shaking his head. “This is definitely gonna stir up some shit.”

Connie let out a loud laugh, clapping his hands together. “Oh yeah, bro.”

Eren leaned back in his chair, smirking. “Matter fact, This shit gonna be a hit.”

Ony stayed quiet for a second, his jaw clenching just slightly.

Then, with all the calm in the world, he grabbed his water bottle, twisted the cap, and took a slow sip.

“Man,” he muttered, voice low, “y’all talk too much.”

The beat faded out.

Eren leaned back, nodding to himself. “That’s a wrap.”

Ony pulled the headphones off, tossing them onto the stand. “We done?”

Mikasa, arms crossed, nodded. “For now.” She glanced down at her phone. “I pushed back the interview until the song drops.”

Ony gave her a look. “For what?”

“So you actually have something to promote.”

Ony scoffed, shaking his head. “Man, I ain’t polishing shit. It stays as is.”

Armin, still lounging in the chair by the console, shrugged. “It’s fine.”

Mikasa rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. She already knew how this went. Ony was stubborn, but so was she—so if anything needed tweaking, he’d come around eventually.

For now, the session was over.

Everybody started to relax, stretching out after being locked in the booth for hours. Connie, already making himself comfortable, sprawled out on the couch, phone in hand. “Yo, I ordered food. Should be here in like twenty.”

“Bet,” Eren muttered, lighting a blunt.

Armin was already on his laptop, typing away, probably lining up the rollout for the track. Mikasa was texting, handling business as usual.

Ony sat back in his chair, exhaling.

That should’ve been the end of it.

But then—he noticed how Connie was smirking at his phone, thumbs moving fast.

“Who you texting?” Ony asked, side-eyeing him.

Connie didn’t even look up. “Nobody.”

Ony lifted his chin. “Lyin’ ass.”

Eren chuckled, passing him the blunt. “If he grinnin’ like that, it’s either money… or a woman.”

Ony took a slow pull, watching Connie. “Yeah. So which one is it?”

Connie finally looked up, mischief all over his face. Then, with zero hesitation—

“Y/N.”

Ony exhaled, smoke curling past his lips. His grip on the blunt tightened just a little.

Connie grinned. “She asked how the session went.”

Ony didn’t say a word at first. Just took another slow drag, the blunt burning between his fingers.

But Connie? Connie was watching him real close.

Then, just like that—

He burst out laughing.

“Ayo—” Connie wiped a fake tear from his eye. “Ain’t no way you just made that face.”

Ony side-eyed him. “Man, shut the fuck up.”

“Nah, nah, nah—” Connie was still grinning, way too amused. “You was lookin’ real sick for a second there.”

Eren smirked but kept quiet. Armin glanced up from his laptop, peeping the shift in energy. Even Mikasa glanced up from her phone, side-eyeing them.

But Connie? He was still on Ony’s head.

“Ain’t my fault you let the game pull you from the chick you loved.”

Silence.

Ony exhaled through his nose, tapping the blunt against the tray, knocking the ash loose. Then, low as hell—barely above a mumble—

“Love.”

Connie’s smirk faltered for a split second.

Ony took another pull, jaw tight.

That was all he said.

But Connie caught it.

And for once, he didn’t joke.

Instead, he just went back to his phone, replying to Y/N.

Text Conversation: Connie & Y/N 📱 Y/N: Yo. How’d the session go?

📱 Connie: Shit was fire, as expected.

📱 Connie: Ya boy Ony was in his bag lmfao.

📱 Y/N: Oh? 👀

📱 Connie: Yeah, you gon’ have a LOT to ask about in that interview, trust.

📱 Y/N: Lmao don’t play w/ me.

📱 Y/N: That bad??

📱 Connie: Let’s just say… a WHOLE lotta names got mentioned tonight.

📱 Y/N: Names?

📱 Y/N: …Wait. Like, WOMEN’S names?

📱 Connie: 👀

📱 Connie: I mean, yeah. A whole roll call.

📱 Y/N: …Lemme find out Ony still on that type of time.

📱 Connie: Lmaooo. Ayo, you sound a lil mad. You good?

📱 Y/N: Boy, bye. 🙄

📱 Connie: Nah nah nah, that was hella quick. You sure you ain’t a lil heated?

📱 Y/N: AINT NOBODY WORRIED ABOUT THAT MAN.

📱 Connie: Mhm. Keep tellin’ yourself that.

📱 Y/N: I hope his player ass got media trained bc I’m asking everything.

📱 Connie: Oh, I KNOW. 😭

📱 Connie: Matter fact…

📱 Connie: I lowkey wish I could see his face when you do.

📱 Y/N: Lmao, be serious.

📱 Connie: I am serious. This man paused for a whole five seconds when Mikasa said your name.

📱 Y/N: Stop lying.

📱 Connie: I’d never lie to you, ma. 😇

📱 Y/N: Boy, you a whole menace.

📱 Connie: And yet, you still texting me. Interesting. 🤔

📱 Y/N: Bye.

📱 Connie: Lmaoooo.

YN POV

Y/N stared at her phone, Connie’s last message still sitting there.

I’d never lie to you, ma. 😇

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, debating if she even wanted to reply.

Five seconds? Ony paused for five whole seconds when he heard her name?

That was not normal.

And the fact that Connie clocked it immediately meant he knew it wasn’t normal either.

Y/N sucked her teeth, flopping back against her couch. She didn’t know why she was letting this get to her. She was over that whole situation. Ony was a memory, an old chapter she’d already closed.

…Right?

She sighed, running a hand down her face.

She should’ve known Connie was gonna be messy.

But then again…

Maybe this was karma.

After all, she was about to interview Ony about his player reputation.

And if anyone knew the truth behind that rep?

It was her.

Because she was there before the fame.

Before the rumors.

Before the women whose names he just rapped in the booth like they were nothing.

Flashback: Back When It Was Just “O” and Y/N

Years ago—before the money, before the music, before the world knew Ony’s name—he was just “O” to her.

And back then?

She swore she was the only girl that mattered to him.

They weren’t official—not really. They never put a title on it. But she was his, and he was hers, in the way that counted.

Or at least… that’s what she thought.

She still remembered the way he looked at her, like she was the only thing worth seeing. The way his voice softened when it was just the two of them. The way he held her like he was scared to let go.

But then…

He let go.

And she never really understood why.

One day, it was all good. The next? He was distant. Late replies. Excuses. Promises he didn’t keep.

Then the rumors started.

And when she finally asked him about it—when she looked him dead in his eyes and asked if the whispers were true—

All she got was a long pause.

And silence said everything.

That’s when she walked away.

And Ony?

He let her.

Back in the Present

Y/N blinked back into reality, jaw tight.

Yeah.

She had a lot of questions for Ony.

And come interview day?

He was gonna answer every single one.

Ony took another pull from his blunt, letting the smoke burn slow in his chest. The studio session was done, but his mind was still running. Not on the track. Not on the rollout.

On her.

Y/N.

Hearing her name after all this time? That was the last thing he expected.

And pausing for five seconds? Yeah, that was a slip-up.

Connie caught that shit fast, too.

That’s why he laughed like it was funny. Like it wasn’t real. Like Ony wasn’t still thinking about the last time he saw Y/N—the last time he let himself look at her.

Like he wasn’t the one who let her go.

He knew exactly what he lost. And if he was being honest?

He lost her on purpose.

Flashback: When Ony Walked Away

Y/N always knew how to get to him. Always knew how to make him feel like he could be more than what the world saw him as.

And for a minute, he let himself believe it.

That they could work. That he could have her and still chase this dream.

But the bigger he got, the more the streets started talking. And Ony had been in the game long enough to know one thing:

Loyalty doesn’t mean shit in this industry.

He wasn’t reckless, wasn’t running around like people said. But he knew how the whispers sounded. How they’d make Y/N look at him different, whether they were true or not.

And instead of waiting for her to see him like that—

He made the call first.

“Yo, I just think we need space,” he told her one night, his voice steady, even though his chest was tight as hell.

Y/N’s face twisted. “Space? Since when?”

He exhaled slow. “Since now.”

That should’ve been it.

But it was Y/N.

And she didn’t just let things go.

“Nah, don’t do that,” she said, stepping closer. “You think I don’t see through that bullshit? What’s really going on, O?”

He swallowed hard, jaw locking. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” she repeated, eyes searching his. “So you just—what? You just woke up and decided we’re done?”

“Somethin’ like that.”

Y/N scoffed, stepping back like she finally understood.

“Wow,” she muttered, shaking her head. “You’re really doing this.”

He didn’t say anything.

Because what the fuck was he supposed to say?

That he was scared? That he didn’t want her caught up in the mess his life was turning into? That he cared too much to let her stick around?

She deserved better than that.

Better than him.

So he let her go.

And Y/N?

She didn’t chase him.

She just left.

And now, years later, she was about to walk back into his life.

And for the first time in a long time—

Ony didn’t know if he was ready.

Y/N

Y/N stabbed her straw through her drink, her foot bouncing under the table. Across from her, Sasha was grinning like she just won a bet.

“You nervous?” Sasha asked, sipping her lemonade.

Y/N scoffed. “Nervous? For what?”

Sasha shrugged. “Dunno. Maybe ‘cause you’re about to see the man who broke your heart?”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “He didn’t break my heart.”

Sasha lifted a brow. “So if I text Connie right now and ask what Ony’s reaction was when he heard your name, what you think he gon’ say?”

Y/N went silent.

Sasha smirked. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

Y/N sighed, leaning back in her chair. “It’s not even like that.”

“Then what’s it like?”

“It’s… history,” Y/N muttered. “It’s old. And it doesn’t matter anymore.”

Sasha gave her a look. “Mhm. So that’s why you over here stirring your drink like it personally offended you?”

Y/N stopped moving.

Sasha laughed. “Babe. If you really didn’t care, you wouldn’t be acting like this.”

Y/N opened her mouth, then shut it again.

Because the truth?

Sasha was right.

She did care.

And that was exactly the problem.

The booth was hot, filled with the lingering scent of smoke and whatever cologne Ony had thrown on that morning. The speakers were thumping, bass rattling the walls as Armin adjusted levels on the mix.

It was supposed to be just another studio session. Another day in the life.

But Connie?

He had other plans.

Ony was posted up on the couch, blunt in one hand, phone in the other, scrolling like he wasn’t paying attention. Mikasa was flipping through notes, probably planning shit out for the next rollout.

Eren leaned back in his chair, dragging a hand down his face. “We tryna work or we just chillin’?”

Connie grinned, stretching his arms behind his head. “Damn, my bad, big boss. Didn’t know we was on the clock.”

Eren shot him a look. “Nigga, we always on the clock.”

Connie waved him off, turning to Ony instead.

“So… you ever gon’ talk about it?”

Ony exhaled slow. “Talk about what?”

Connie’s grin widened. “You know what.”

Mikasa didn’t even look up. “Leave it alone, Connie.”

“Nah, I just think it’s funny.” Connie sat forward, eyes locked on Ony. “How you been out here, big dog—big Ony—but one name got you stuck?”

Ony’s grip on his phone tightened. “Ain’t nobody stuck.”

Connie chuckled. “Right. That why you got so quiet yesterday?”

Ony didn’t reply. Just took another slow drag, eyes locked on the table in front of him.

Connie leaned back with a smirk. “I mean, if it was me—”

“Good thing it ain’t,” Ony muttered.

Connie threw his hands up. “Damn, my bad! Didn’t know it was a sensitive subject.”

Eren shook his head. “You real messy, you know that?”

Connie just laughed. “Shit, somebody gotta keep it interesting.”

Mikasa sighed. “Can we work now?”

Ony didn’t say anything. Just exhaled smoke, let his head rest against the couch.

He wasn’t stuck.

He was just thinking.

And the more Connie ran his mouth?

The harder it was to stop.

Connie tapped his fingers against his knee, watching Ony with that same smug grin.

“So what you gon’ do when you see her?”

Ony exhaled, slow and steady. “Ain’t gon’ do shit.”

Connie raised a brow. “Oh, word?”

Ony didn’t even look up. “Word.”

Connie snorted. “Man, please. You ain’t even slick. The moment Mikasa said her name, you got real quiet.”

Ony finally glanced up, jaw tight. “You still talkin’?”

Connie shrugged. “I mean, it’s funny. Big Ony, unbothered Ony, the same nigga who don’t let nobody get in his head, but—”

Ony cut him off. “You bored, huh?”

Connie grinned. “A lil’ bit.”

Ony shook his head, smirking just a little. “Niggas get one R&B hit and start feelin’ real bold.”

That made Eren laugh. Even Armin cracked a smile.

But Connie?

He just leaned forward, elbows on his knees.

“Aite, bet,” Connie said, still smirking. “If you don’t choke up when you see Y/N after the rollout for your interview next Thursday, I’ll drop it.”

Ony’s expression stayed neutral. “And if I do?”

Connie grinned wider. “Then I get to talk my shit forever.”

Ony sucked his teeth. “Nigga, you already do that.”

“Yeah, but this time, I’d be right.”

Ony shook his head. “Whatever, man.”

“Nah, say it,” Connie pushed. “We got a deal?”

Ony sighed, flicking ash off his blunt. Then he met Connie’s eyes, voice calm.

“Bet.”

The studio air was thick—weed smoke, bass vibrations, and unspoken shit that sat heavy between Ony and Connie. The bet had been made, and Ony wasn’t the type to back out, but the way Connie was watching him, all smug and knowing, made his blood heat just a little.

Eren twisted in his chair, adjusting the levels on the console. “Aight, we running this from the top?”

Ony pulled the mic stand closer, rolling his shoulders. “Yeah.”

Connie cracked his neck and stepped up beside him. “Try not to get too distracted, big dawg.”

Ony shot him a side glance. “Try not to do too much, R&B ass nigga.”

Connie laughed, stepping back as Eren cued up the beat. The heavy bass dropped, shaking the room, and just like that—they were locked in.

Ony didn’t hesitate when his cue hit, voice sliding into the rhythm, sharp and commanding.

"Come on, ma, you know I got a wife…"

His words hit with weight, the flow raw, guttural. Connie fed off that energy, bouncing on his heels before coming in smooth, vocals slipping through the beat like silk.

The two of them went back and forth, perfect synergy. Connie’s harmonies laced through Ony’s rough delivery like a blade wrapped in velvet. It was effortless—like they had done this in another lifetime.

By the time the chorus hit, Eren was nodding along, Armin tapped his fingers on his knee, and even Mikasa—who hardly reacted to shit—was watching with sharp eyes.

The track faded, and silence took over, but no one spoke at first.

Then Armin leaned forward, pushing his glasses up. “That’s the one.”

Eren smirked. “Yeah. That’s the one.”

Mikasa crossed her arms. “We’re polishing it.”

Ony exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “Nah. It stays.”

Mikasa gave him a flat look. “It’s not up for discussion.”

Ony was about to argue, but Armin waved a hand. “It’s fine as is.”

Mikasa rolled her eyes but didn’t push further. She was outnumbered, and she knew it.

The session wrapped, but the energy still crackled in the air. Connie leaned back against the couch, scrolling through his phone like he had nothing to do with the chaos he had just started.

Ony side-eyed him, still catching his breath. “You real quiet now.”

Connie didn’t look up. “Just letting you breathe before I start talkin’ my shit.”

Eren laughed, shaking his head. “You don’t stop talkin’ shit.”

Connie grinned. “And y’all love me for it.”

Ony wasn’t amused. He leaned forward, forearms on his knees. “The bet still stands?”

Connie locked his phone and met Ony’s gaze. “Yeah. Next Thursday.”

Ony took a slow drag from his blunt, exhaling smoke toward the ceiling. “Aight.”

Connie’s grin widened. “That means yes, you gon’ choke up.”

Ony turned his head slowly, eyes dark. “Nigga, I will slap the gel out your head.”

Connie cackled, throwing a pillow at Ony’s face. “Bet.”

Y/N’s POV: Late Night Thoughts

The glow of Y/N’s laptop screen cast shadows across her face, but she wasn’t really looking at it. The email sat open, the words blurring together, but her mind was miles away.

Across from her, Sasha was sprawled out on the couch, chewing on a bag of chips like she wasn’t causing Y/N a migraine.

Sasha side-eyed her. “You been staring at that email for way too long.”

Y/N sighed, dragging a hand down her face. “It’s just an interview.”

Sasha raised a brow. “It’s not just an interview.”

Y/N shut her laptop with a snap. “Sasha.”

“What?”

“Don’t start.”

Sasha grinned. “Start what? I didn’t say shit.”

“You’re thinking it.”

Sasha tossed a chip in her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “Aight, fine. Let’s say I was thinking something. What exactly do you think I was thinking?”

Y/N shot her a dry look.

Sasha snorted. “Oh my God, just say you’re nervous.”

Y/N huffed. “I’m not nervous.”

Sasha pointed at her with a chip. “Then why you actin’ like the deadline itself is Onyankopon?”

Y/N snatched the bag from her hands.

Sasha let out a dramatic gasp. “Damn. That serious?”

Y/N groaned, leaning back against the couch. “I don’t wanna do this right now.”

Sasha smirked. “Right, right. So when is a good time to unpack the fact that the love of your life—”

Y/N threw the bag back at her. “Don’t start that shit.”

Sasha laughed, catching it with ease. “Fine, fine. But you know I’m right.”

Y/N didn’t answer.

Because deep down, Sasha was right.

And that was the problem.

THE DROP DATE

Twitter/X – 10:47 AM

@REALHipHopTalk: 👀 Ony and Connie really snapped on this track. This some real music.

@bitchwholovesrnb: Connie’s vocals??? Ethereal. Ony slid on that beat like it owed him money.

@notyourbabymama: Y’all hear how Ony was talking on this track??? That nigga got history, LMAO. Somebody broke his soul.

@2Trill4U: Nah, the way they used the OG formula but flipped it into something fresh? This gon’ be in rotation all summer.

@ThirstTrapQueen: Me watching Ony growl his way through the verses like a dog in heat 😩🔥 Sir, I will bark back.

TikTok – 11:23 AM

@TrapScholar (stitching the official music video) 🎶 What these bitches want from a nigga? "—NIGGA, WHO HURT YOU?!"

@RnB4L Connie’s little ‘woo’ ad-lib lives in my head rent free.

@HoodPsychologist POV: You listening to Ony’s verse and realizing this nigga is venting.

(Caption: "Somebody call his therapist.")

@MessyMimi The way Ony said, “Bitch” 😭 That wasn’t in the script. That was personal.

Instagram – 12:02 PM

@TheIndustryPlug (Post: Cover art of the track) 🚨 Ony x Connie – What These Bitches Want (2025 Remix) is officially OUT NOW! 🚨

🔗 Stream it everywhere.

💬 Comments:

🔥 @_TheRealOny: Stay out my business. 🔥 @RNBConnie: 🤣🤣🤣🤣 🔥 @MikasaM: 🤦🏾‍♀️

The studio was way quieter than usual. No crazy bet, no heated back-and-forth—just a chill session with the whole crew vibing.

Ony was leaning back on the couch, blunt in hand, scrolling through his phone. He never cared what people thought of his music, but damn, the reaction had him smirking a little.

Connie, as usual, was living for the attention. He had his phone propped up, live on IG, cheesing while reading the comments. “Damn, y’all nosy as hell,” he laughed, shaking his head.

Eren snorted. “they clocked you mid-breath.”

Connie grinned. “That’s star power, baby.”

Mikasa was sitting near the console, arms crossed. “You two are trending.”

Armin, ever the businessman, was already flipping through analytics on his laptop. “Streams are crazy. We got one million in four hours.”

Ony exhaled smoke, barely reacting. “Cool.”

Connie turned toward him. “Bro, ‘cool’?” He pointed at Armin’s screen. “That’s money.”

Ony shrugged. “It’s what we do.”

Connie sucked his teeth. “You kill my vibe.”

“Not my problem.”

Before Connie could throw a pillow at his head, the studio door swung open.

Sasha walked in, hype as hell, phone in hand. “Y’all SEEING this shit?”

Mikasa sighed. “We’re aware.”

Sasha ignored her, hopping onto the couch beside Connie. “No, ‘cause the way people are picking apart Ony’s verse…” She wiggled her eyebrows, looking straight at Ony.

Ony, unfazed, took another drag. “And?”

Sasha grinned. “And they think you wrote it about somebody.”

The room went quiet.

Eren looked up. Armin shut his laptop. Mikasa sighed again. Connie? Grinning like the devil himself.

Ony rolled his jaw, but he didn’t take the bait. “They think a lot of shit.”

Sasha leaned in. “So they wrong?”

Ony didn’t answer. Just took another hit, eyes locked on his screen.

Connie clapped his hands together. “Aite, y’all know what time it is.”

Ony groaned. “Nigga, shut up.”

Connie laughed. “I would—but you just made this way too fun.”

Y/N sat cross-legged on her bed, phone in one hand, scrolling through Twitter with the other. The TL was on fire.

@notyourbabymama: Nah, Ony was talking to somebody specific on that track. WHO GOT THIS MAN IN HIS FEELINGS?

@2Trill4U: The way this man said “Bitch” like she stole his soul??? 😭

@ThirstTrapQueen: Y’all see how Connie hyped Ony up in the background? That’s a real R&B singer right there.

She snorted, shaking her head. Same internet, same mess.

Then, her phone buzzed.

Connie: 👀 Connie: Lemme know what you think, ma. [🔗 Link to “What These Bitches Want” – Ony x Connie]

Y/N sighed. This nigga…

She hesitated for a second before clicking the link. The song started blasting through her headphones—hard-hitting, raw, and cocky as hell. Connie’s vocals were as smooth as ever, but Ony?

Yeah. That man was spitting venom.

Her stomach twisted. The way he rapped… the way certain lyrics hit? It felt personal.

And then, another notification popped up.

Connie is live now!

Y/N clicked in, and sure enough, there was Connie—lounging in the studio, chain glinting, scrolling through the comments while laughing his ass off.

She smirked. Bet.

@ynlovesfries: Boy, answer your phone.

Connie saw it instantly. “Nahhh, why she in here like she not supposed to be calling me first?” He grinned, shaking his head. “What’s up, trouble?”

@ynlovesfries: Who in trouble?

Connie laughed. “You.”

The comments were eating it up.

🔥 Not y’all arguing like siblings. 🔥 Connie, what you do?? 🔥 Y/N, tell us the tea.

@ynlovesfries: What these bitches want, huh?

Connie hollered. “Ayo, chat, get your girl, man.”

@ynlovesfries: Why Ony sound like he was talkin’ to somebody specific?

Connie gave the camera a knowing look. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Y/N rolled her eyes.

@ynlovesfries: I hate you.

Connie smirked. “Nah, you love me.”

🔥 The chemistry is CRAZY. 🔥 Is Y/N the ex? 👀 🔥 Nah, she know something we don’t.

Y/N snorted, shaking her head. This fool gon’ be annoying all day.

And deep down? She knew he wasn’t gonna let this go.

Connie strolled over and plopped down next to Ony, draping an arm across the couch like he owned the place. The camera caught everything—the dim studio lighting, the way Ony’s diamond earrings and bright-ass chain caught every flicker, making him glow like a damn superstar.

“Aye, Ony,” Connie grinned, eyeing the comments scrolling at light speed. “The ladies say they wanna hear you do that bark you be doin’ in songs.”

Ony, mid-blunt rotation, exhaled slow, thick smoke curling in the air. He side-eyed the camera, his expression unreadable.

The chat exploded.

🔥 NOT THE SIDE EYE OMGGGG 🔥 HIS EARRINGS GLISTENING HE KILLIN ME 🔥 Ony I love you pls just one bark 🔥 WHY IS HE SO FINE FOR NO REASON

Without a word, Ony hit the blunt again, passing it off to Eren, who took it off-camera. He exhaled, voice dropping so deep it damn near rumbled through the mic.

“Why you next to me, Connie?”

CHAOS.

🔥 OH HE KNOW HE FINE LMAOOO 🔥 HIS VOICE JUST PUNCHED ME IN THE CHEST WTF 🔥 HE MAKING EYE CONTACT I CANT BREATHE 🔥 Connie move I wanna sit next to him

Connie threw his head back laughing. “Yo, this nigga got y’all in shambles, man.”

Ony smirked—just barely—then leaned back into the couch, unbothered as hell, while the comments continued losing their minds.

The chat was still losing it over Ony’s deep-ass voice when a new comment popped up.

@ynlovesfries: Ony too cool for the bark now?

Connie’s eyes lit up the second he saw it. “Ayo, nahhh.” He grinned, pointing at the screen. “Look who finally decided to pop in.”

Ony, who had been casually slouched, took a slow sip from his cup—but his shoulders tensed. Just for a second. Blink and you’d miss it.

The comments? Oh, they noticed.

🔥 WHY HE STIFFEN LIKE THAT LMAOOO 🔥 Who is @ynlovesfries and why Ony react like that??? 🔥 That was a GUT REACTION, y’all saw that? 🔥 Oh this some HISTORY HISTORY

Connie was grinning like a man who lived for mess. He turned to Ony. “Ayo, big dog, you got a response or…?”

Ony ignored him. Instead, he grabbed his phone and started scrolling mindlessly, acting like he wasn’t paying attention.

The chat went CRAZY.

🔥 NOT HIM PRETENDING TO BE BUSY 🔥 Boy, we see you! 🔥 WHO IS SHEEEE??

Connie just shook his head, laughing. “Aight, bet. We’ll leave that alone… for now.”

But the way Ony’s jaw flexed?

Yeah. Everybody knew this wasn’t over.

Connie was still going back and forth with Y/N in the comments, laughing at whatever slick response she just sent. The energy was playful, messy—exactly what the chat loved.

Then he hit them with:

“Aye, for the record, she ain’t my girl. We just go way back.” He waved a dismissive hand, eyes still glued to the chat. “I don’t want her busted ass.”

The moment the words left his mouth, Ony—who had been sitting back, real quiet, real unbothered—shifted.

“Watch your mouth.”

Silence.

Connie froze.

The chat? In absolute flames.

🔥 NAHHH WHY HE SAY IT LIKE THAT??? 🔥 Ony said RESPECT HER RIGHT NOW. 🔥 Connie blink twice if you okay. 🔥 This man has not spoken in MINUTES and now he wanna regulate?? 🔥 Y’ALL. HISTORY. THERE IS HISTORY.

Connie glanced over at Ony, who wasn’t even looking at him—just hitting his blunt like nothing happened.

That made it worse.

Connie laughed it off—a little too quickly. “Damn, I was joking.” He looked at the chat, then back at Ony. "you good?”

Ony didn’t answer. He just kept smoking, eyes locked on the screen.

The damage was already done.

The chat was going feral.

🔥 YEAH HE GOT A SOFT SPOT IDC IDC 🔥 Connie you fumbled the convo now spill the tea 🔥 Ony’s reaction was too natural, he BEEN like her 🔥 I KNEWWWW ITTTT

Speculation was at an all-time high. And the worst part?

Ony didn’t correct a damn thing.

The chat was still in shambles from Ony’s warning when a new comment popped up.

@ynlovesfries: Now you gotta put respect on my Constance.

The chat lost its mind.

🔥 NAHHH NOT THE FULL FIRST NAME 🔥 SHE SAID “CONSTANCE” LIKE HIS MAMA 😭😭😭 🔥 HE GOT CHECKED BY BOTH OF THEM LMAOOO 🔥 Connie you gon let that slide??

Connie squinted at the screen, dramatic as hell. “Nah. No, she didn’t.”

He pointed at the camera, looking betrayed. “Don’t be out here government-naming me like I’m in trouble.”

Ony, still leaned back, exhaled smoke slow. “You are in trouble.”

The chat? Finished.

🔥 Y/N & Ony tag team is wild 🔥 Connie getting cooked from all angles 🔥 HE AINT EVEN DEFEND HIMSELF FR

Connie sighed, rubbing his temples. “Man, let’s talk about something else. Y’all play too much.”

Connie was still going back and forth with Y/N in the comments, and the chat was eating it up. Meanwhile, Ony had been posted up, saying nothing, just scrolling his phone like he wasn’t even there.

And the chat noticed.

🔥 Ony just here for vibes? 🔥 Bro acting like he on payroll to sit and smoke 🔥 He really “if it don’t involve me, IDGAF” personified 🔥 Ony blink if they forcing you to be here

Even Connie caught on. He turned to Ony, laughing. “Damn, you gon’ say something or just keep sitting there looking pretty?”

Ony, still cool as hell, arched a brow at the camera. Then he spoke.

“Well, ask me questions then.” He exhaled smoke and tapped his blunt on the tray. “Y’all in the chat nosy fr.”

The chat? Exploding.

🔥 OH SO HE WANNA TALK NOW?? 🔥 Not the callout 😭 🔥 SOMEBODY ASK ABOUT Y/N NOW 🔥 Boy you knew what you were doing with that

Connie leaned back, shaking his head. “Aight, bet. Y’all heard him. Go ahead, ask Mr. Nonchalant whatever you want.”

And just like that, the floodgates opened.

🔥 Ony, what’s your body count? → “Wouldn’t you like to know?” 🔥 What type of girls you like? → “The kind that mind their business.” 🔥 You really like ‘em crazy, huh? → Ony just smirked. “Ain’t say all that.” 🔥 Ayo, what’s up with you and Y/N? → Message deleted by Live Owner

Connie side-eyed the camera, scrolling through the comments. “Y’all moving devious in here, damn.” He shook his head, sipping his drink. “Ony, they saying you dodging too much.”

Ony exhaled smoke and tilted his head. “Well, ask me questions then.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Y’all in the chat nosy fr.”

���� OH HE WANNA TALK NOW?? 🔥 SOMEBODY ASK ABOUT Y/N RIGHT NOW 🔥 Boy you knew what you were doing with that 🔥 You keep dodging Y/N like she Steph Curry or sum

The next wave of questions came in even faster.

🔥 Be real, you single or just single for the public? → Ony chuckled. “I don’t do labels.” 🔥 Ony, what was the last text you sent? → “‘Bet. Say less.’” 🔥 When was the last time a girl humbled you? → “Never happened.”

🔥 So when you gon’ settle down? → “When I get tired.”

Connie looked over and laughed. “Boy, stop lying.”

The chat ate it up.

🔥 WE NEED TO FIND HIS LAST EX RN 🔥 He said "when I get tired" like he don’t be fighting sleep already 🔥 Nah, we need Ony’s ex to speak UP

And then, right in the middle of the chaos—

Sasha joined the live.

Her little profile popped up on the screen, and before anybody could even say anything, she hit Ony with the kill shot.

“Hey, Ony—how you wanna bet you gon’ choke when you see Y/N on Thursday?”

BOOM.

🔥 SASHA, PLEASE—😭😭😭 🔥 SHE WASTED NO TIME 🔥 OH WE GETTING TO THE REAL QUESTIONS NOW 🔥 Ony, explain yourself IMMEDIATELY.

Connie was gone. He damn near choked on his drink, coughing while trying to hold in a laugh. “Ayo, chill—” He waved his hand, shaking his head. “Man, it’s an interview. Y’all nosy fr.”

🔥 “An interview” LMAOOO NAH IT’S FATE 🔥 INTERVIEW OR DESTINY??? 🔥 Ony so quiet now, huh? 🔥 Sasha knew what she was doing

Ony? He just sat back, dragging a hand down his face like he was choosing his next words carefully. He let out a slow exhale, passing his blunt back to Eren off-camera.

Connie nudged him. “Damn, bro, you stuck?”

Ony side-eyed him but still didn’t answer.

🔥 OH HE SILENT NOWWW 🔥 HE GOT NOTHING TO SAY HUH? 🔥 Ony, blink twice if you need help 🔥 Sasha knew EXACTLY what she was doing LMFAO

Meanwhile, Sasha was just chilling, biting into a sandwich like she didn’t just drop the biggest bomb of the night.

She licked some sauce off her thumb. “What? I’m just saying.”

🔥 "NAH SASHA BEING MESSY LMAOOO" 🔥 "OH SHE KNOWS SOMETHING—" 🔥 "Y/N JOIN THE LIVE, STOP PLAYING!" 🔥 "DROP THE IG @ WE TRYNA INVESTIGATE."

The comments were moving wild fast, but one stuck out on the screen for a second longer than the rest—

@ynlovesfries: Sasha, you being messy now.

Connie immediately saw it and started laughing. “Ayo, she in here—”

Sasha, mid-chew, didn’t even blink. “And?” She shrugged. “She know I ain’t lying.”

🔥 "YOOO SHE RIGHT HERE AHAHAH" 🔥 "Y/N CONFIRM OR DENY??" 🔥 "NOT HER BESTIE EXPOSING HER ON MAIN."

Then, before Y/N could even try to ignore it, Sasha wiped her fingers off and smirked. “Nah, blame your big head-ass bestie for hosting this live.”

🔥 "BESTIE?? SO THEY CLOSE??" 🔥 "CONNIE WHY YOU AIN’T SAY THAT." 🔥 "OH YEAH, THEY BEEN LINKED, I KNEW IT."

The comments went off.

🔥 "Y/N and Ony definitely had a thing back in the day." 🔥 "WAIT, BESTIE? SO YOU TELLING ME SHE AND CONNIE BEEN CLOSE TOO?" 🔥 "OH, WE NEED Y/N ON THIS LIVE RIGHT NOW."

Connie leaned forward, still scrolling through. “Damn, they on your head, ma.” He chuckled. “Y’all got my comments in detective mode.”

🔥 "NAH, CONNIE DON’T DEFLECT, CONFIRM OR DENY??" 🔥 "Y/N, WE NEED ANSWERS, STOP HIDING!" 🔥 "ON Y/N TO FINALLY SAY SOMETHING."

Sasha sat back, sipping her drink, looking at the chat like she wasn’t the one who just stirred the entire pot.

Then someone finally asked the real question.

🔥 "So if Y/N and Connie besties… does that mean she was around Ony back then?"

🔥 "OOOOHHH WAIT A MINUTE." 🔥 "SO THEY DID KNOW EACH OTHER." 🔥 "THIS LIVE GETTING GOOD."

And now? All eyes were on Ony.

Ony, who was still sitting back, still looking unbothered—except for the fact that he hadn’t said shit.

Connie saw the silence and smirked. “Damn, why he quiet now?”

🔥 "ONYANKOPON, EXPLAIN YOURSELF NOW." 🔥 "Y/N, JUST JOIN THE LIVE AND END THIS MYSTERY." 🔥 "NAH, HE AVOIDING EYE CONTACT AHAHAH."

Sasha side-eyed the screen. “Mm.” She popped another fry in her mouth. “He shook.”

As soon as Y/N’s name popped up on the live screen, the comments went crazy.

🔥 "SHE REALLY JOINED??" 🔥 "OH IT’S ABOUT TO GET GOOD." 🔥 "CONNIE, DON’T FOLD NOW."

The split screen loaded, and there she was—Y/N, sitting back in her room, hoodie on, bonnet secured, looking unbothered.

"Y’all really begged me to get on here," she deadpanned, adjusting her camera.

Connie cracked up immediately. "Nah, don’t act like you wasn’t watching the whole time."

"And?" She raised a brow. "I could’ve stayed lurking."

🔥 "LMAO SHE A LURKER FR." 🔥 "NAH, SHE BEEN HERE, JUST WAITING."

Ony, still laid back, exhaled slow through his nose. He passed the blunt off to Eren and finally spoke.

"Y’all don’t got nothing better to do on this live, huh?" His voice was deep, a little raspy, dragging with that same slow, laid-back energy that made people hang on every word.

🔥 "ONYANKOPON HAS SPOKEN." 🔥 "WHY HE SOUND LIKE THAT THOUGH." 🔥 "NAH, MY KNEES WEAK WTF."

And then, out of nowhere—

@dreamdoll_23: "I'm not Cinderella, but I know it fits 😏."

🔥 "WAIT, WHAT??" 🔥 "OH SHE SHOOTING HER SHOT." 🔥 "NAH, GET HER ON THIS LIVE TOO."

Ony paused mid-blunt pass. His dark eyes flicked down at the screen, squinting slightly.

"Ayo, who said that?" He shifted, leaning in closer. "Tell her hit me up."

🔥 "OH HE BOLD—" 🔥 "NO WAY HE JUST SAID THAT." 🔥 "ONYANKOPONYOU GOTTA RELAX."

Y/N? Dead silent.

She side-eyed the camera, clicked the 'leave' button, and was gone before anyone could say a damn thing.

🔥 "LMAOO SHE LEFT—" 🔥 "OH SHE MAD AHAHA." 🔥 "WHY SHE DODGE LIKE THAT??"

Connie? Cackling.

Sasha? Shaking her head.

Ony? Just smirked. "Aight, aight ." Then he took another drag, like he ain’t just set the chat on fire.

As soon as Y/N dipped from the live, the chat lost its mind.

🔥 "NAH SHE REALLY LEFT—" 🔥 "SHE DIPPED SO FAST LMAOO." 🔥 "ONYANKOPON YOU IN TROUBLE."

Connie was still laughing, shaking his head while sipping from his cup. “Damn, she really ain’t wanna stick around for that.”

Ony? Unbothered.

He stretched, flexing just a little as he leaned back into the couch, scrolling through the comments. Then his gaze flicked back to @dreamdoll_23, the one who said she wasn’t Cinderella but knew it fit.

"Ayo, shorty, you still in here?" He smirked, reaching for his phone.

🔥 "OMG NOT HIM LOOKING FOR HER." 🔥 "HE REALLY BOUT TO FLIRT??" 🔥 "Y/N BOUT TO THROW HANDS LMAOO."

@dreamdoll_23 commented: "I’m here, what's up? 👀"

Ony grinned, licking his bottom lip. "Aight, bet. Drop your IG real quick."

The chat went insane.

🔥 "ONYANKOPON YOU A MENACE." 🔥 "Y/N LEFT TWO SECONDS AGO AND YOU ALREADY MOVING??" 🔥 "BRO GOT NO CHILL."

Connie, watching from the side, shook his head and muttered, "Nah, this man different."

Once @dreamdoll_23 dropped her IG, Ony clicked over to her page right there on live. The screen dimmed slightly as he scrolled through her pictures.

"Oh, you look good, ma." His voice was smooth, deep, dragging in that slow, syrupy way that made the chat explode.

🔥 "NOT HIM DOING THIS IN FRONT OF US." 🔥 "HE REALLY SCROLLING THROUGH HER PICS??" 🔥 "Y/N AIN’T GON LIKE THIS."

Ony smirked, tapping on one of her photos. “Damn, where you from?”

@dreamdoll_23: "NYC, why? You trying to fly me out? 👀"

Connie lost it, nearly spitting out his drink. "Oh hell nah," he wheezed.

Sasha popped back into the chat. "LMAOO not Ony with the bottle girl rizz on IG live."

Ony, still scrolling through her page, chuckled. "I might. You tryna get flewed out?"

🔥 "NOT FLEWED OUT—" 🔥 "OH HE IN HIS BAG NOW." 🔥 "Y/N GONNA BE HOT WHEN SHE SEES THIS."

Someone in the chat: "She look good, but she not Y/N tho."

The whole vibe shifted for a second.

🔥 "LMAOOOOOOO YALL PETTY." 🔥 "WHO SAID THAT." 🔥 "NO ONE CAN ESCAPE Y/N'S SHADOW I SWEAR."

Ony? Still scrolling, still cool. "Y’all love bringing up old shit," he muttered, but there was the tiniest flicker of something in his expression.

Connie? Watching like a hawk.

Sasha? Not letting up.

"Ayo, Ony, you can flirt all you want, but bet money you still gon' freeze up when you see Y/N next week."

🔥 "OHHHHH SHIT." 🔥 "SHE NOT WRONG THO." 🔥 "ONYNKOPON, BE HONEST—YOU SHOOK?"

Ony chuckled, shaking his head. He took another slow drag from his blunt, exhaled thick smoke, and said,

"Man, y’all really think I'm worried? Aight, bet. We’ll see."

a next girl shot her shot saying they say shooters shot hey Onyankopon Carter what up with you.

The moment that comment hit the chat, the whole live went stupid.

🔥 "NAH SHE ATE THAT." 🔥 "SHE SAID WHAT SHE SAID." 🔥 "Y/N COME BACK IMMEDIATELY."

Onyankopon grinned, flashing his grillz as he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “Aight, who said that?” He scrolled back up, eyes flicking over the flood of reactions. @bigfine94—her profile pic was cute, lips glossy, nails done.

“Ayo, @bigfine94, I see you,” Ony said, his voice dropping a little.

🔥 "LMAO NOT HIM ACKNOWLEDGING IT." 🔥 "SHE REALLY BOLD FOR THAT ONE." 🔥 "SOMEONE GET Y/N ON THE LINE."

@bigfine94: "Yeah, yeah, you see me. But what’s up with you?"

Ony chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m chillin’, ma. You out here tryna make me risk it all on live?”

🔥 "NOT RISK IT ALL—" 🔥 "Y/N GONNA HAVE TO CLOCK IN." 🔥 "THIS MAN TOO SMOOTH WTF."

@bigfine94: "I mean… that smile would look even better when I’m looking back at you. 👀"

THE WHOLE CHAT LOST IT.

🔥 "NAH SHE WON." 🔥 "SHE REALLY SHOT FROM HALF-COURT." 🔥 "Y/N WHERE YOU AT BABY??"

Connie fell out laughing, slapping his knee. “Yo, I like her! She got bars!”

Even Eren, off-camera, let out a low whistle. “Damn.”

Ony? Grinning, licking his bottom lip. "Oh, you bold, bold."

@bigfine94: "Gotta be when it comes to you. 😘"

🔥 "SHE WANT HIM FR." 🔥 "Y/N CHECK YOUR PHONE NOW." 🔥 "ONYANKOPON SMILING TOO HARD."

Ony leaned back, rubbing his jaw. “Aight, @bigfine94, I’ma remember you.”

Connie shook his head, still laughing. “Yeah, you gon’ remember when Y/N cusses your ass out.”

🔥 "CONNIE KNOWS THE TRUTH." 🔥 "THIS GON BE A PROBLEM." 🔥 "Y/N GOTTA SEE THIS."

And just like that, the chat had a new mission—tagging Y/N everywhere.

The chat was already in shambles, but the second Y/N’s name popped up again, things escalated.

🔥 "NAH WHERE Y/N AT??" 🔥 "SHE GOTTA SEE THIS." 🔥 "THAT GIRL REALLY TOOK HER SHOT AND HE SMILING TOO HARD LMAOO."

Sasha, who had been kicking back, watching the chaos unfold, finally spoke up on the live. She adjusted her camera and squinted at the chat.

“Ayo, y’all messy as hell.” She shook her head, laughing. “Why y’all keep bringing Y/N into this? She don’t know Ony like that.”

🔥 "SASHA, BABY, WHY YOU LYIN'??" 🔥 "👀👀👀 SHE SAID WHAT NOW??" 🔥 "NAH WE GOT RECEIPTS."

And just like that, someone in the chat decided to be a full-blown detective.

@deepdiver56: "NAH NAH. You a liar. If y’all scroll all the way down Ony's IG, there’s a pic of them together looking real cozy."

🔥 "WAIT, WAIT, WAIT—" 🔥 "SAY YOU SWEAR." 🔥 "SOMEBODY PULL UP THE LINK IMMEDIATELY."

Ony, who had been laughing, smirking, and playing along this whole time—froze.

Not for long. Just a split-second hesitation. But it was long enough for the chat to notice.

🔥 "GOT HIM." 🔥 "HE FROZE UP LMAOOO." 🔥 "NAH NOW WE NEED ANSWERS."

Connie caught that too, and this man WAS LOVING IT. He leaned into the camera, grinning.

“Damn, Ony, why you stop laughing?” He tilted his head. “You ain’t got nothing to say?”

🔥 "CONNIE A MENACE." 🔥 "HE POKIN’ THE BEAR LMAO." 🔥 "ONY STIFF AS HELL RN."

Ony exhaled slowly, licking his bottom lip before sitting back and picking up his blunt. He took a deep pull, the ember glowing as the chat waited on his response.

“Niggas be bringing up ancient history,” he muttered, voice smooth, heavy. He passed the blunt to Eren off-camera, not looking at the phone.

🔥 "OH HE SICK." 🔥 "‘ANCIENT HISTORY’ MY ASS." 🔥 "Y/N NEEDS TO WAKE UP RN."

Sasha, seeing how cornered Ony looked, tried to smooth things over. “Look, all I’m saying is y’all reading too deep into shit.”

The chat wasn’t hearing it.

@pullupreceipts: "NOOOO CUZ LOOK—"

And before Ony could even shut it down, someone had dropped the link to the old post.

🔥 "YALL MOVE TOO FAST WTF." 🔥 "OH NAH, THIS PIC KINDA INTIMATE??" 🔥 "ONY, BE SO FR RIGHT NOW."

Connie grabbed his phone, clicked the link, and busted out laughing. “Oh yeah,” he said, spinning his phone to Ony’s face. “Bro, you can’t tell me this don’t look like something.”

Ony glanced at it, jaw tensing slightly. The pic wasn’t even that bad—just an old shot from way back. Him and Y/N at some house party, shoulder to shoulder, his arm resting behind her on the couch, a red cup in his other hand.

But the way he was looking at her?

🔥 "NAH. HE LOOKS WHIPPED." 🔥 "HE CAN'T EVEN DENY IT." 🔥 "Y/N BETTER TAP IN REAL QUICK."

Ony sucked his teeth and waved Connie off, voice gruff. “Man, get that out my face.”

🔥 "HE MAD." 🔥 "NAH THIS LIVE TOO GOOD." 🔥 "Y/N WE NEED A RESPONSE ASAP."

And just like that, the entire chat was blowing up her notifications.

Some raggedy tea page said they were gonna record the live

The chat exploded at that statement, and things took a sharp turn.

🔥 "NAH THEY REALLY ABOUT TO MAKE A VIDEO OUTTA THIS??" 🔥 "I CAN'T WAIT TO SEE THIS ON YOUTUBE." 🔥 "SOMEONE SCREENSHOT THIS. I NEED TO KNOW WHAT THEY GONNA SAY ABOUT THIS LIVE."

Connie, ever the instigator, couldn't help but laugh at the drama unfolding. “Yo, they really gonna make content outta this? I might as well sell my clips to ‘em at this point.”

🔥 "CONNIE A MESS." 🔥 "HE TOO COMFORTABLE WITH THE CHAOS." 🔥 "IF THIS GETS PUT ON YOUTUBE, YALL KNOW IT’S GOING VIRAL."

Sasha rolled her eyes from the side, shaking her head. “Man, y’all wild.” But even she couldn’t deny the entertainment value of the situation.

Then, the tea page made their mark:

@TeaTimeWithTash: “I’m recording this entire live. I’m dissecting every second for my YouTube, y’all better believe that. Stay tuned.”

🔥 "SHE'S DOING GOD'S WORK." 🔥 "I'M FINNA BE IN THE COMMENTS." 🔥 "THEY GONNA EXPOSE EVERYTHING."

Ony sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, looking done. “Y’all really finna turn this into a whole show, huh?” he muttered under his breath. He looked straight into the camera, his eyes narrowing. “Fine. Keep playing. Just wait ‘til the real interview drops. Then we’ll see who really has the story.”

🔥 "OOOOOH, TALK YOUR TALK." 🔥 "HE READY TO DROP THE TRUTH." 🔥 "MAN SAID THE REAL STORY."

Connie leaned back and shrugged, pretending to be nonchalant. “Shit, let ‘em have their fun. The reception is already wild.”

Sasha, realizing just how deep the mess was getting, tried to get things back on track. “Aight, aight, that’s enough for today. Y’all are really out here making mikasa's job harder.”

But the chat was relentless. Everyone had their eyes glued to the screen.

🔥 "YALL KNOW THIS ABOUT TO GO CRAZY ON THE INTERNET." 🔥 "SASHA, YOU KNOW YOU CAN’T STOP THE STORM." 🔥 "SO WHAT ABOUT THAT PIC??"

The chaos finally calmed down, but only slightly. Connie, still lounging comfortably in the chair, leaned back and checked his phone. His smile faltered when he saw his notifications blowing up—from Y/N.

He rolled his eyes, his lips curling into a grin as he swiped open his messages. Y/N’s texts were coming in fast and furious, each one more fiery than the last:

Y/N: "I swear, you really out here causing trouble? What’s this nonsense you got me involved in?" Y/N: "Why you acting like I’m some kind of side chick?"

Connie bit back a laugh, knowing exactly what he was doing. He wasn’t about to let this slide. His fingers tapped out a quick reply:

Connie: "C’mon Ma, it ain't like that. Chill, we all know it’s just some fun."

But before he could finish typing, his phone started blowing up again—this time with voice notes from Y/N. He looked over at Ony, who was still quietly smoking, smirking at the chaos and still watching people go off on the live. The fans in the comments had noticed Connie’s sudden activity on his other phone and took it the wrong way.

🔥 "Connie out here texting some girl while on live??" 🔥 "We see you, Connie. Don’t act like we don’t know." 🔥 "I swear Connie’s always got some new girl on the side."

Meanwhile, Connie was trying to hold it together, though his attention was clearly split. He didn’t care much about the comments—he was more focused on Y/N’s voice notes.

He pressed play on the first one:

Y/N’s voice: “Don’t even try to play me right now. You really out here acting like we cool with this? I’m not one of your damn groupies.”

Connie couldn't help but chuckle. "I know she’s mad… but damn, she sound good." He quickly hit reply:

Connie: "You know I ain't like that. Stop trippin', it’s just a lil’ live to mess with the fans."

The next voice note came through, and it was longer this time.

Y/N’s voice: “Man, don’t play with me. You know what you’re doing. You can’t keep me out here looking dumb for a bunch of randoms who think they know us. I ain’t some prop you can use for content, Connie. Stop it.”

Connie looked at the screen, grinning mischievously. He knew he had to play it cool.

Connie: "C’mon, ma. You know I got love for you. It’s just for the live. Ain’t nobody here serious, and you know that. But you gonna make me pull up on you again, huh?"

He clicked send and leaned back, glancing at Ony who was now chuckling under his breath. The reactions on the live had already taken a life of their own, with people speculating left and right.

🔥 "Y’all peepin’ Connie’s texts?" 🔥 "He gotta be texting some girl. Ain’t no way he not." 🔥 "Yo, why y’all making this mess, Connie?"

Connie just smiled to himself. “Nah, don’t worry. This ain't what they think.”

But the situation was spiraling in ways no one could’ve predicted. Connie was getting his inbox blown up with messages from fans who thought it was all about him texting a new girl.

🔥 "Connie, you got a new shorty or nah?" 🔥 "Y’all gotta put some respect on Y/N's name tho, why she getting dragged into this mess?"

As the notifications kept popping up, Connie got a quick idea. He typed out another message to Y/N:

Connie: "Let me call you. I ain't finna let the fans get this twisted. Let's talk it out."

He hit send, then quickly switched back to the live screen. The fans were still commenting, but now their focus was split. Some of them were more intrigued about the mystery woman, while others were invested in whether Connie and Y/N would finally clear things up.

The live ended after a few more minutes, but Connie wasn't done just yet. He called Y/N directly, hoping she’d answer—knowing the game wasn’t over until they both had their say.

Y/N’s POV:

The second I left that damn live, I felt relief—but it was short-lived. The chaos I had just stepped away from continued to churn in the background like a storm. I pulled my phone out of my pocket, fingers hovering over the screen for a moment as I took a deep breath.

I knew I had to check.

I opened my spam account, because this was definitely the kind of mess that needed to be observed with a little distance. The comments section was on fire, and I couldn’t even blink without something new popping up. People were dissecting every word I said, every movement, and the way Ony reacted to me. Honestly? I wasn’t surprised. They’d been on our necks since day one, trying to piece together a puzzle we weren't even sure of ourselves.

I scrolled through the live recap and watched it all unfold again:

Ony still sitting there, looking like he was unbothered, but I knew deep down it was all just an act. The way he was flirting with those girls, dropping bars like it was nothing, and the way he casually slipped into his player role. It made my stomach churn in a way I couldn’t quite explain. I shouldn’t be mad—I mean, that was Ony after all—but for some reason, today hit different.

He wasn’t even trying to hide it, really. He kept calling out the girls, knowing full well the camera was on him, reading off the comments. He wasn’t even sparing me a second of attention… until they started mentioning my name.

The comments flooded in:

🔥 "I heard Y/N and Ony used to be close, anyone else see that old pic of them together?" 🔥 "Y’all think they linked up again?" 🔥 "Yo, anyone else notice Ony stiffen when they said her name?"

I saw Connie’s comment too, cracking jokes, calling me out for being messy, and every time I saw his face, I wanted to scream. He was egging everything on. He knew exactly what he was doing. And I was over here, stuck in my head, trying to figure out why the hell I ever thought we’d have a chance at being something real.

But as I kept watching, something caught my eye. Ony—he was still flirting, but there was that moment… That moment when someone had mentioned my name again. He froze, and it was almost unnoticeable. The way his body stiffened, how his eyes flickered for just a second. He’d seen me, right? He had to have.

My chest tightened, the whole situation getting way more personal than it had any right to. And then, out of nowhere, the screen filled with this one comment that I wasn’t ready for:

🔥 "Ayo, if y’all scroll down Ony's IG, there's a pic of him and Y/N looking mad cozy. Bet they used to mess with each other for real."

It felt like my breath caught in my throat as I immediately pulled up his Instagram, my thumb moving on its own. The pic was there, the one we tried to forget. Me and Ony, our arms draped around each other, looking like we were in our own little world. The comments exploded with speculation, and it didn’t help that Ony froze in the live when it was brought up.

That was the part I had been trying to avoid. The truth I had been running from.

I was just about to back out when Sasha’s voice broke through my thoughts. She was on the live too, teasing Ony and Connie about us. I was already feeling awkward enough but hearing Sasha say, “Sasha you being messy now, they don’t even know Ony like that,” just made it worse. It was clear that everyone knew something was going on, even if no one had the full story.

And then came the comment that made me sigh.

🔥 "Nah nah, u a liar. If y’all scroll all the way down, Ony’s IG got pics of him and Y/N from back in the day looking real cozy!"

That moment was the one where everything changed. The floodgates opened. The speculations were no longer rumors. They were facts now, and I couldn’t deny it. My phone was buzzing like crazy, Connie was probably texting me again, and I didn’t even know how to respond.

I needed space.

I needed time to think about it all. But all I wanted to do was shut down. So I turned my phone off for a second, letting out a long breath. What the hell was I doing? What was this really all about?

The minute I swiped my phone back on, I could feel the weight of it all. Connie had probably texted me again, and I knew damn well that Ony was probably still trying to keep up the same front in the live. The world seemed to be spinning faster than I could keep up. I could feel the drama building, and I wasn’t sure if I was ready for whatever came next.

But before I could process it, my phone buzzed again. This time, it was a new message:

“You up?”

It was from Connie.

I took a deep breath, knowing this was the moment where everything could either get better… or even worse.

I stared at my phone, the screen lighting up with Connie’s name flashing across my notifications. Text after text and a voice note popping up right after. My fingers hovered over the screen as I debated whether to even listen to his damn voice notes. I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was probably laughing his ass off on the other side, thinking this whole mess was some kind of game.

But I wasn’t playing.

I wasn’t sure if it was the live still replaying in my mind or the fact that the whole world seemed to be speculating about my past with Ony, but I couldn’t take it anymore.

I tapped on the first message.

Connie: “Ayo, you see what’s going on in the live? You know the fans always digging for something, but you’re making it worse by not even acknowledging it. Come on, we just having fun!”

I rolled my eyes. Fun? Really? This wasn’t fun. This was messy, and I didn’t sign up for this shit. I typed a reply, my fingers typing faster than my brain could process.

Y/N: “Messy?? You think this is funny? You’re encouraging this chaos, and I’m over here trying to move on, and now all of a sudden my entire past with Ony’s getting dragged up. You think that’s a joke?!”

I stared at the screen for a second, feeling my pulse quicken. His next voice note buzzed through.

Connie's Voice Note: "C'mon, Y/N. I get it, you're not into all this public drama, but look, they love to speculate, and that's what they do. Just let it ride, fam. Ony ain't trippin', you shouldn’t either. You already know how the game goes. No need to act like you ain't got a little fun in you. You good, I promise.”

His voice was calm, but that didn’t make me feel any better. If anything, it pissed me off more. I took a moment to breathe, then replied, feeling the heat rise in my chest.

Y/N: “Nah, I don’t care if we’re best friends, this shit ain’t funny, Connie. You’re out here hyping it up like it’s a damn game. I’m over it. I didn’t ask for any of this. I’m not some side character in y’all’s reality show, and I’m done letting people drag me into this mess.”

I hit send, then threw my phone on the couch, running my hands through my hair. This whole situation had gone from annoying to straight-up frustrating. I wasn’t a part of their drama—not anymore—and if they couldn’t see that, I didn’t know what to do.

Then the phone buzzed again, almost instantly.

Connie’s Text: "Alright, alright. My bad, I feel you. But you know how these lives go. Don’t stress it. You know me better than anyone, and I got your back."

I stared at the message for a long moment, trying to process it. He wasn’t wrong about one thing: I did know him better than anyone. But that didn’t make it any easier to ignore what had happened in the live. Ony was in there, putting on his usual show, acting like everything was just business as usual.

But this wasn’t business as usual to me.

Ony and I had a past. That wasn’t something that could be erased just because people were speculating. And the way he just sat there, flirting with those fans while I was being dragged through the mud, made me question a lot of things.

I leaned back, shaking my head. He had a way of making everything seem effortless, like nothing ever mattered. But maybe that was the problem.

Maybe it never mattered to him.

I closed my eyes for a second, letting the thoughts settle. The buzz of my phone pulled me back to reality. Another text, this time from Connie.

Connie: "Y/N, seriously. I’m just trying to lighten the mood. Look, Ony will handle it. The live's over, and the smoke will clear. You’ll see."

I didn’t reply right away. Instead, I felt my frustration bubble up again. If only it were that easy. But nothing with Ony was ever easy.

I grabbed my phone, hit Connie's number, and let it ring through, hoping he'd answer. He picked up on the third ring.

“Y/N, I know you're mad, but—”

I didn’t let him finish. “Connie, this isn’t about you or me. It’s about the fact that I’m not playing this game. I don’t care if you think it’s fun. I’m tired of being caught in the middle of this shit. It’s messy. I didn’t sign up for it, and I’m done being your entertainment.”

There was silence on the other end for a second. “I get it,” he finally said, voice softer. “I really do. But, Y/N, you know better than anyone, the game never stops. People love the drama, and they love the what-if stories. Hell, we all do.”

I sighed, feeling the weight of everything. “Not this time,” I muttered, before hanging up.

I wasn’t looking for drama. I wasn’t here to be part of a show. I was done with that life.

But somehow, I couldn’t stop thinking about the one person who was always in the background of it all—Ony. And I wasn’t sure I could ever really move past it.

I heard Connie chuckle on the other end of the line, and I immediately knew where this was going.

“I know what this is about,” he said, a playful tone in his voice. “It’s about Ony flirting with those IG baddies on the live, isn’t it? That’s what’s got you all stressed out like this.”

My stomach dropped. He wasn’t wrong, but hearing him say it out loud just made everything feel more real, more exposed. I rubbed my temple, letting out a frustrated sigh.

“Connie,” I said, my voice low. “Don’t act like I’m the only one who saw that. You think I don’t know how this looks? I’m over here, trying to handle everything, and he’s out there, acting like he didn’t just ruin everything. Flirting with those girls, and I’m supposed to just let it slide?”

There was a brief silence on the other end, and I could almost hear Connie processing my words. Then he finally spoke up again, his tone quieter this time.

“Look, Y/N, I’m not saying you’re wrong for feeling like this. But I’m telling you, Ony’s not like that. He’s always been this way. You know him better than anyone else, and you know how he plays the game.”

“I get that, Connie, but that doesn’t make it easier,” I snapped, my patience wearing thin. “I can’t keep pretending like it’s all just for show. When it’s me, it’s real. So what the hell am I supposed to think when he’s out there laughing it off?”

Connie let out a deep breath. “I get it. You want him to be real with you, but he’s… well, he’s Ony. You know how he is. He keeps his distance. That’s his thing. He doesn’t let people in.”

“Yeah, well,” I muttered, my frustration bubbling back to the surface, “I used to think I was someone he let in.”

“Y/N, come on,” Connie said softly, a little more serious now. “You know he’s always had a way of keeping things complicated. But you were always more than just another girl to him. If you think otherwise, you’ve got it twisted.”

I felt a lump form in my throat at his words. Connie always knew how to hit me where it hurt, even when he wasn’t trying to. It was too easy for him to say things like that, to remind me that I wasn’t just a part of the game.

But that didn’t change the fact that Ony had chosen to let me walk away. He could’ve stopped me. He didn’t.

And now, it was too late.

I swallowed hard, trying to keep myself composed. “I’m not going to be a part of his little publicity stunt just to make him look good,” I said firmly. “This isn’t some reality TV show. It’s my life.”

Connie paused before answering, his voice a little more hesitant. “I feel you. But, look, Ony’s not trying to hurt you. He’s just… doing his thing. You just gotta trust that he knows what he’s doing. When you see him Thursday, you’ll see it.”

“You think so?” I asked, the words heavy with doubt.

“Yeah. I do.” There was a moment of silence between us before Connie added, “And if you need to talk before Thursday, you know where to find me.”

I didn’t respond right away, taking a few seconds to breathe before I finally said, “Yeah. Thanks, Connie. I’ll think about it.”

After a beat, I hung up.

My mind was racing. What was I even supposed to think about all this?

I tossed my phone back down onto the couch, staring at the ceiling as the weight of everything pressed down on me. Ony was out there, doing his thing, while I was over here, trying to make sense of it all. But was I really going to let him walk all over me again? Just because he wanted to keep up the player image?

I wasn’t sure I could keep up with this anymore. And the hardest part was that I didn’t know whether I even wanted to try.

But one thing was for sure—I wasn’t just going to sit back and let him get away with it. Not this time.

[sherewrytes]

WHAT THESE BITCHES WANT FROM A NIGGA

Cause i missed writting for Ony outside of Love and Gunshots

here is a lil fic inspired by me listening to way to much DMX songs

this def gonna have a part two

The studio was alive with energy. The faint hum of a beat looped through the speakers, low enough to talk over but loud enough to keep the vibe right. Smoke curled through the air, the scent of something strong lingering as laughter bounced between the walls.

Eren sat at the mixing board, lazily twisting a knob as he leaned back in his chair, watching the session unfold. Armin stood nearby, scrolling through his phone, probably looking at projections or some business report none of them cared to hear about right now.

Connie was perched on the couch, a blunt tucked behind his ear, grinning as he scrolled through his notifications. He tapped his screen, shaking his head. "Man, they got Twitter goin' crazy right now. They swear me and Ony got a track droppin’."

Onyankopon sat in the corner, quiet but listening, one hand draped over his knee while the other nursed a bottle of water. He wasn’t much for social media, but he already knew what they were saying. His name stayed in people’s mouths—sometimes for music, sometimes for… other things.

“Let ’em talk,” Ony muttered. “Ain’t nobody confirm nothin’.”

Connie smirked. “Yeah, but you know how this industry work. Rumors turn into facts real quick.”

Eren chuckled. “Ain’t that the truth.” He nudged Armin. “Yo, business man, how we capitalizing off this?”

Armin didn’t look up from his phone. “By actually finishing the song, maybe?”

That got a laugh out of everyone except Ony, who only shook his head.

Then Mikasa spoke up, cutting through the noise like she always did. “Speaking of rumors,” she said, arms crossed, “you got an interview tomorrow, Ony.”

Ony’s face stayed unreadable, but his response was instant. “Nah, I ain’t doin’ all that.”

Mikasa barely blinked. “It’s already booked.”

“So? Cancel it.”

“Not happening.”

Ony exhaled through his nose, irritation creeping into his voice. “What for? I already know what they gon’ ask me. Same bullshit—‘What’s the album about?’ ‘What’s your process?’ ‘How many women you really got on rotation?’” He shook his head. “Tired of that shit.”

Mikasa stared him down, unmoved. “Then maybe you should be more careful about what you let people say about you.”

A sharp silence filled the room. Even Eren glanced up at that.

Ony ran a hand over his face, about to argue again, when Mikasa tilted her head and added—

“It’s with Y/N L/N.”

Everything stopped for a beat.

Ony didn’t say anything at first, but the slight hesitation—the way his fingers curled just a little tighter around his water bottle—didn’t go unnoticed.

Connie definitely noticed.

His eyes flicked to Ony, then back to Mikasa, and a slow grin stretched across his face. “Ohhh.” He dragged the word out, leaning forward with too much interest. “Now that’s interesting.”

Eren smirked. “Damn, bro. That name mean somethin’ to you?”

Ony scoffed, shaking his head. “Nah. Ain’t even like that.”

But the way he avoided looking at anybody said otherwise.

Mikasa, as usual, wasn’t here for the games. “Good,” she said flatly. “Then you won’t have a problem showing up.”

Ony didn’t respond right away. He just leaned back, tapping his fingers against his knee, thoughts running deeper than he let on.

Connie, watching him closely, only grinned wider. “Yeah… this gon’ be real interesting.”

The room settled back into a familiar rhythm, but there was a shift now—something hanging in the air that hadn’t been there before.

Ony leaned back, his jaw tight, tapping a slow rhythm against his knee while Connie watched him like he had the biggest secret in the world.

Eren, never one to let a moment slip by, chuckled as he twisted a few knobs on the soundboard. “Damn, I ain’t never seen you this quiet before, bro.”

Ony shot him a look. “Man, shut up.”

That only made Connie laugh harder. “Nah, ‘cause now I’m real curious. You of all people ain’t tryna do an interview? And with her?” He whistled low, shaking his head. “Secrets must be somethin’ serious.”

Ony exhaled sharply but didn’t take the bait. Instead, he stood up, rolling his shoulders like he was shaking something off. “Man, let’s just work.”

Eren smirked, already cuing up the beat. “Yeah, yeah. Time to put in work, big dog.”

The opening bassline hit, vibrating through the speakers, heavy and raw. The track was built for Ony—gritty, aggressive, something that hit you straight in the chest. And then Connie’s smooth, melodic touch came in, making the whole thing feel effortless.

Ony grabbed the headphones off the stand and adjusted the mic. He didn’t need the lyrics in front of him—he’d already been running the bars through his head all day.

Eren gave a nod from behind the glass. “Aight, run it from the top.”

The track kicked in fully, the instrumental pulsing. Connie stepped up first, his voice sliding in smooth:

🎶 "Uh… yeah." 🎶

He grinned, letting the words stretch out as he found the groove.

🎶 "What these women want from a nigga? Everybody askin’…" 🎶

Eren bobbed his head, already feeling it. Armin leaned back, watching with his usual calculating gaze, while Mikasa stayed posted by the door, arms crossed, as if mentally balancing business with personal bullshit.

Then Ony came in.

🎶 "What these women want from a nigga? Shit, I been tryna figure that out myself." 🎶

His voice was low, raspy—commanding. He wasn’t just rapping, he was telling a story.

🎶 "What these women want from a nigga? They love the name, but they don’t know the life." 🎶

The way he delivered it was cold, almost detached—like a man laying out facts, no sugarcoating. Connie picked up his cue, adding another layer to the track, his voice dripping with the kind of confidence that made women weak.

🎶 "Break ‘em off somethin’… Oh yeah, and by the way, it’s the N-Tity!" 🎶

Connie hit that perfect balance of cocky and smooth, grinning as he leaned back from the mic.

Eren let the beat ride for a second before cutting the track. The room sat in silence for a beat before Armin finally spoke.

“Yeah,” he nodded, impressed. “That’s gonna be a problem.”

Connie snickered. “You mean a hit?”

“Same thing.”

Ony pulled the headphones off, setting them back on the stand. The energy was right, the track was solid—but his mind was already somewhere else.

And Connie knew it.

He waited a moment before casually saying, “You know, I bet Y/N gon’ have a lot of questions about this one.”

Ony stilled for half a second. Then he shook his head, grabbing his water bottle. “Man, shut the hell up.”

Connie just grinned, stretching back on the couch. “Nah, I’m just sayin’… interviews get real personal sometimes.”

Eren chuckled under his breath. Armin smirked. Even Mikasa looked like she was holding back a comment.

Ony exhaled, rubbing his jaw. This interview was already getting on his nerves—and it hadn’t even happened yet.

Ony cracked his neck, rolling his shoulders like he was shaking something off. “Run it back.”

Eren didn’t even question it. He just reset the track, the bass creeping in again, that same grimy, no-nonsense energy filling the room.

Ony stepped up to the mic, gripping it like he had something to prove—not to them, but to himself.

🎶 "Come on, ma, you know I got a wife, And even though that pussy tight, I'm not gon' jeopardize my life—AIGHT?" 🎶

His voice hit harder this time, more raw, like he was talking directly to somebody.

🎶 "So what is it you want from a nigga?" 🎶

Connie, still chilling on the couch, let out a low “What?” in the background, matching Ony’s tone.

🎶 "I gave you; you gave me—" 🎶

Then Ony snapped, voice sharper—

🎶 "BITCH!" 🎶

Eren raised an eyebrow but said nothing, nodding along.

🎶 "I blazed you, you blazed me—COME ON!" 🎶

Connie grinned, chiming in smooth, “Yeah, yeah…”

Ony’s delivery was cold, every bar landing like a warning.

🎶 "Nothin’ more, nothin’ less, But you at my door willing to confess—" 🎶

Connie, right on cue: “Yeah, yeah…”

🎶 "That it’s the best you ever tested—" 🎶

🎶 "Aight!"—Connie crooned, voice buttery smooth.

Ony smirked a little, but his tone stayed ruthless.

🎶 "Better than all the rest, I'm like, 'Aight, girlfriend, hold up—'"

Connie jumped in again, sliding in that signature R&B swag—

🎶 "Tell me…"

And Ony closed it out, dropping the last line like a hammer—

🎶 "I gave you what you gave me, boo—a NUT!" 🎶

Eren cut the beat again, sitting back with a low whistle. “Sheesh.”

Armin smirked, clearly amused. “Well… that was direct.”

Connie laughed, throwing his arm over the back of the couch. “Nah, that shit was real.” He turned to Ony, smirking. “Yo, you think Y/N gon’ bring this up in the interview?”

Ony exhaled, rubbing his jaw. “Man, shut the hell up.”

That only made Connie laugh harder. “What? You know she gon’ ask you what these women really want.”

Eren smirked. “Hope you got a good answer ready.”

Ony didn’t respond, just grabbed his water bottle and took a slow sip, trying to act unbothered.

But everybody in the room knew better.

Mikasa, arms still crossed, gave Ony and Connie a sharp nod. “Run the chorus and the next verse for me.”

She wasn’t asking.

Eren smirked, pressing a button on the board. “Aight, y’all heard the boss lady.”

Connie rolled his shoulders, stepping back up to the mic. Ony exhaled through his nose, adjusting his stance.

The track restarted.

This time, the energy was locked in.

🎶 "What these bitches want from a nigga?" 🎶

Ony’s voice was rough, carrying that weight, that grit.

🎶 "What you want? (What you want?) What these bitches want from a nigga?" 🎶

Connie’s voice slipped in smooth, bouncing off Ony’s rawness, giving the chorus its perfect contrast.

🎶 "Really want… What these bitches want from a nigga? Shawty, I keep you up on it, Bling-blingin', all that jewelry, girl, I bought it—" 🎶

His voice dipped into a slick melody, smooth enough to make anybody believe every word.

🎶 "What these bitches want from a nigga? Ayo, tell me what you want from me… Baby, tell me what you want from me (so what you want?)” 🎶

The chorus hit hard, the beat knocking heavy behind their voices.

And just like that—Ony slid into his verse, zero hesitation.

🎶 "There was Brenda, Latisha (uh), Linda, Felicia (okay), Dawn, LeShaun, Ines, and Alicia (ooh)—" 🎶

Armin let out a low whistle under his breath.

🎶 "Teresa, Monica, Sharon, Nicki (uh-huh), Lisa, Veronica, Karen, Vicky —" 🎶

Connie couldn’t help but react. “Damn.”

🎶 "Cookie, well, I met her in a ice cream parlor (right), Tonya, Diane, Lori, and Carla (okay)—" 🎶

Mikasa’s expression stayed unreadable, but Eren was grinning behind the glass.

🎶 "Marina (uh), Selena (uh), Katrina (uh), Sabrina (uh), About three Kims (what?), LaToya and Tina—" 🎶

Connie leaned in, adding his smooth “Woo~” to the track.

🎶 "Shelley, Bridget, Cathy, Rasheeda (uh-huh), Kelly, Nicole, Angel, Juanita—" 🎶

🎶 “Damn.”—Connie again, his voice dripping with amusement.

🎶 "Stacy, Tracie, Rohna, and Ronda (what?), Donna, Yolanda (what?), Tawana, and Wanda (what?)—" 🎶

Ony’s voice was relentless, pushing each name out with weight, like a roll call of his past.

🎶 "Were all treated fairly, but yet and still, Bitches is on some other shit now that I'm fuckin' with Dru Hill—" 🎶

🎶 "But I'ma keep it real (what?), What the fuck you want from a nigga? What the fuck you want from a nigga? (Yeah!)" 🎶

Silence.

Then—

Armin smirked, shaking his head. “This is definitely gonna stir up some shit.”

Connie let out a loud laugh, clapping his hands together. “Oh yeah, bro.”

Eren leaned back in his chair, smirking. “Matter fact, This shit gonna be a hit.”

Ony stayed quiet for a second, his jaw clenching just slightly.

Then, with all the calm in the world, he grabbed his water bottle, twisted the cap, and took a slow sip.

“Man,” he muttered, voice low, “y’all talk too much.”

The beat faded out.

Eren leaned back, nodding to himself. “That’s a wrap.”

Ony pulled the headphones off, tossing them onto the stand. “We done?”

Mikasa, arms crossed, nodded. “For now.” She glanced down at her phone. “I pushed back the interview until the song drops.”

Ony gave her a look. “For what?”

“So you actually have something to promote.”

Ony scoffed, shaking his head. “Man, I ain’t polishing shit. It stays as is.”

Armin, still lounging in the chair by the console, shrugged. “It’s fine.”

Mikasa rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. She already knew how this went. Ony was stubborn, but so was she—so if anything needed tweaking, he’d come around eventually.

For now, the session was over.

Everybody started to relax, stretching out after being locked in the booth for hours. Connie, already making himself comfortable, sprawled out on the couch, phone in hand. “Yo, I ordered food. Should be here in like twenty.”

“Bet,” Eren muttered, lighting a blunt.

Armin was already on his laptop, typing away, probably lining up the rollout for the track. Mikasa was texting, handling business as usual.

Ony sat back in his chair, exhaling.

That should’ve been the end of it.

But then—he noticed how Connie was smirking at his phone, thumbs moving fast.

“Who you texting?” Ony asked, side-eyeing him.

Connie didn’t even look up. “Nobody.”

Ony lifted his chin. “Lyin’ ass.”

Eren chuckled, passing him the blunt. “If he grinnin’ like that, it’s either money… or a woman.”

Ony took a slow pull, watching Connie. “Yeah. So which one is it?”

Connie finally looked up, mischief all over his face. Then, with zero hesitation—

“Y/N.”

Ony exhaled, smoke curling past his lips. His grip on the blunt tightened just a little.

Connie grinned. “She asked how the session went.”

Ony didn’t say a word at first. Just took another slow drag, the blunt burning between his fingers.

But Connie? Connie was watching him real close.

Then, just like that—

He burst out laughing.

“Ayo—” Connie wiped a fake tear from his eye. “Ain’t no way you just made that face.”

Ony side-eyed him. “Man, shut the fuck up.”

“Nah, nah, nah—” Connie was still grinning, way too amused. “You was lookin’ real sick for a second there.”

Eren smirked but kept quiet. Armin glanced up from his laptop, peeping the shift in energy. Even Mikasa glanced up from her phone, side-eyeing them.

But Connie? He was still on Ony’s head.

“Ain’t my fault you let the game pull you from the chick you loved.”

Silence.

Ony exhaled through his nose, tapping the blunt against the tray, knocking the ash loose. Then, low as hell—barely above a mumble—

“Love.”

Connie’s smirk faltered for a split second.

Ony took another pull, jaw tight.

That was all he said.

But Connie caught it.

And for once, he didn’t joke.

Instead, he just went back to his phone, replying to Y/N.

Text Conversation: Connie & Y/N 📱 Y/N: Yo. How’d the session go?

📱 Connie: Shit was fire, as expected.

📱 Connie: Ya boy Ony was in his bag lmfao.

📱 Y/N: Oh? 👀

📱 Connie: Yeah, you gon’ have a LOT to ask about in that interview, trust.

📱 Y/N: Lmao don’t play w/ me.

📱 Y/N: That bad??

📱 Connie: Let’s just say… a WHOLE lotta names got mentioned tonight.

📱 Y/N: Names?

📱 Y/N: …Wait. Like, WOMEN’S names?

📱 Connie: 👀

📱 Connie: I mean, yeah. A whole roll call.

📱 Y/N: …Lemme find out Ony still on that type of time.

📱 Connie: Lmaooo. Ayo, you sound a lil mad. You good?

📱 Y/N: Boy, bye. 🙄

📱 Connie: Nah nah nah, that was hella quick. You sure you ain’t a lil heated?

📱 Y/N: AINT NOBODY WORRIED ABOUT THAT MAN.

📱 Connie: Mhm. Keep tellin’ yourself that.

📱 Y/N: I hope his player ass got media trained bc I’m asking everything.

📱 Connie: Oh, I KNOW. 😭

📱 Connie: Matter fact…

📱 Connie: I lowkey wish I could see his face when you do.

📱 Y/N: Lmao, be serious.

📱 Connie: I am serious. This man paused for a whole five seconds when Mikasa said your name.

📱 Y/N: Stop lying.

📱 Connie: I’d never lie to you, ma. 😇

📱 Y/N: Boy, you a whole menace.

📱 Connie: And yet, you still texting me. Interesting. 🤔

📱 Y/N: Bye.

📱 Connie: Lmaoooo.

YN POV

Y/N stared at her phone, Connie’s last message still sitting there.

I’d never lie to you, ma. 😇

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, debating if she even wanted to reply.

Five seconds? Ony paused for five whole seconds when he heard her name?

That was not normal.

And the fact that Connie clocked it immediately meant he knew it wasn’t normal either.

Y/N sucked her teeth, flopping back against her couch. She didn’t know why she was letting this get to her. She was over that whole situation. Ony was a memory, an old chapter she’d already closed.

…Right?

She sighed, running a hand down her face.

She should’ve known Connie was gonna be messy.

But then again…

Maybe this was karma.

After all, she was about to interview Ony about his player reputation.

And if anyone knew the truth behind that rep?

It was her.

Because she was there before the fame.

Before the rumors.

Before the women whose names he just rapped in the booth like they were nothing.

Flashback: Back When It Was Just “O” and Y/N

Years ago—before the money, before the music, before the world knew Ony’s name—he was just “O” to her.

And back then?

She swore she was the only girl that mattered to him.

They weren’t official—not really. They never put a title on it. But she was his, and he was hers, in the way that counted.

Or at least… that’s what she thought.

She still remembered the way he looked at her, like she was the only thing worth seeing. The way his voice softened when it was just the two of them. The way he held her like he was scared to let go.

But then…

He let go.

And she never really understood why.

One day, it was all good. The next? He was distant. Late replies. Excuses. Promises he didn’t keep.

Then the rumors started.

And when she finally asked him about it—when she looked him dead in his eyes and asked if the whispers were true—

All she got was a long pause.

And silence said everything.

That’s when she walked away.

And Ony?

He let her.

Back in the Present

Y/N blinked back into reality, jaw tight.

Yeah.

She had a lot of questions for Ony.

And come interview day?

He was gonna answer every single one.

Ony took another pull from his blunt, letting the smoke burn slow in his chest. The studio session was done, but his mind was still running. Not on the track. Not on the rollout.

On her.

Y/N.

Hearing her name after all this time? That was the last thing he expected.

And pausing for five seconds? Yeah, that was a slip-up.

Connie caught that shit fast, too.

That’s why he laughed like it was funny. Like it wasn’t real. Like Ony wasn’t still thinking about the last time he saw Y/N—the last time he let himself look at her.

Like he wasn’t the one who let her go.

He knew exactly what he lost. And if he was being honest?

He lost her on purpose.

Flashback: When Ony Walked Away

Y/N always knew how to get to him. Always knew how to make him feel like he could be more than what the world saw him as.

And for a minute, he let himself believe it.

That they could work. That he could have her and still chase this dream.

But the bigger he got, the more the streets started talking. And Ony had been in the game long enough to know one thing:

Loyalty doesn’t mean shit in this industry.

He wasn’t reckless, wasn’t running around like people said. But he knew how the whispers sounded. How they’d make Y/N look at him different, whether they were true or not.

And instead of waiting for her to see him like that—

He made the call first.

“Yo, I just think we need space,” he told her one night, his voice steady, even though his chest was tight as hell.

Y/N’s face twisted. “Space? Since when?”

He exhaled slow. “Since now.”

That should’ve been it.

But it was Y/N.

And she didn’t just let things go.

“Nah, don’t do that,” she said, stepping closer. “You think I don’t see through that bullshit? What’s really going on, O?”

He swallowed hard, jaw locking. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” she repeated, eyes searching his. “So you just—what? You just woke up and decided we’re done?”

“Somethin’ like that.”

Y/N scoffed, stepping back like she finally understood.

“Wow,” she muttered, shaking her head. “You’re really doing this.”

He didn’t say anything.

Because what the fuck was he supposed to say?

That he was scared? That he didn’t want her caught up in the mess his life was turning into? That he cared too much to let her stick around?

She deserved better than that.

Better than him.

So he let her go.

And Y/N?

She didn’t chase him.

She just left.

And now, years later, she was about to walk back into his life.

And for the first time in a long time—

Ony didn’t know if he was ready.

Y/N

Y/N stabbed her straw through her drink, her foot bouncing under the table. Across from her, Sasha was grinning like she just won a bet.

“You nervous?” Sasha asked, sipping her lemonade.

Y/N scoffed. “Nervous? For what?”

Sasha shrugged. “Dunno. Maybe ‘cause you’re about to see the man who broke your heart?”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “He didn’t break my heart.”

Sasha lifted a brow. “So if I text Connie right now and ask what Ony’s reaction was when he heard your name, what you think he gon’ say?”

Y/N went silent.

Sasha smirked. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

Y/N sighed, leaning back in her chair. “It’s not even like that.”

“Then what’s it like?”

“It’s… history,” Y/N muttered. “It’s old. And it doesn’t matter anymore.”

Sasha gave her a look. “Mhm. So that’s why you over here stirring your drink like it personally offended you?”

Y/N stopped moving.

Sasha laughed. “Babe. If you really didn’t care, you wouldn’t be acting like this.”

Y/N opened her mouth, then shut it again.

Because the truth?

Sasha was right.

She did care.

And that was exactly the problem.

The booth was hot, filled with the lingering scent of smoke and whatever cologne Ony had thrown on that morning. The speakers were thumping, bass rattling the walls as Armin adjusted levels on the mix.

It was supposed to be just another studio session. Another day in the life.

But Connie?

He had other plans.

Ony was posted up on the couch, blunt in one hand, phone in the other, scrolling like he wasn’t paying attention. Mikasa was flipping through notes, probably planning shit out for the next rollout.

Eren leaned back in his chair, dragging a hand down his face. “We tryna work or we just chillin’?”

Connie grinned, stretching his arms behind his head. “Damn, my bad, big boss. Didn’t know we was on the clock.”

Eren shot him a look. “ Bro please, we always on the clock.”

Connie waved him off, turning to Ony instead.

“So… you ever gon’ talk about it?”

Ony exhaled slow. “Talk about what?”

Connie’s grin widened. “You know what.”

Mikasa didn’t even look up. “Leave it alone, Connie.”

“Nah, I just think it’s funny.” Connie sat forward, eyes locked on Ony. “How you been out here, big dog—big Ony—but one name got you stuck?”

Ony’s grip on his phone tightened. “Ain’t nobody stuck.”

Connie chuckled. “Right. That why you got so quiet yesterday?”

Ony didn’t reply. Just took another slow drag, eyes locked on the table in front of him.

Connie leaned back with a smirk. “I mean, if it was me—”

“Good thing it ain’t,” Ony muttered.

Connie threw his hands up. “Damn, my bad! Didn’t know it was a sensitive subject.”

Eren shook his head. “You real messy, you know that?”

Connie just laughed. “Shit, somebody gotta keep it interesting.”

Mikasa sighed. “Can we work now?”

Ony didn’t say anything. Just exhaled smoke, let his head rest against the couch.

He wasn’t stuck.

He was just thinking.

And the more Connie ran his mouth?

The harder it was to stop.

Connie tapped his fingers against his knee, watching Ony with that same smug grin.

“So what you gon’ do when you see her?”

Ony exhaled, slow and steady. “Ain’t gon’ do shit.”

Connie raised a brow. “Oh, word?”

Ony didn’t even look up. “Word.”

Connie snorted. “Man, please. You ain’t even slick. The moment Mikasa said her name, you got real quiet.”

Ony finally glanced up, jaw tight. “You still talkin’?”

Connie shrugged. “I mean, it’s funny. Big Ony, unbothered Ony, the same nigga who don’t let nobody get in his head, but—”

Ony cut him off. “You bored, huh?”

Connie grinned. “A lil’ bit.”

Ony shook his head, smirking just a little. “Niggas get one R&B hit and start feelin’ real bold.”

That made Eren laugh. Even Armin cracked a smile.

But Connie?

He just leaned forward, elbows on his knees.

“Aite, bet,” Connie said, still smirking. “If you don’t choke up when you see Y/N after the rollout for your interview next Thursday, I’ll drop it.”

Ony’s expression stayed neutral. “And if I do?”

Connie grinned wider. “Then I get to talk my shit forever.”

Ony sucked his teeth. “Nigga, you already do that.”

“Yeah, but this time, I’d be right.”

Ony shook his head. “Whatever, man.”

“Nah, say it,” Connie pushed. “We got a deal?”

Ony sighed, flicking ash off his blunt. Then he met Connie’s eyes, voice calm.

“Bet.”

The studio air was thick—weed smoke, bass vibrations, and unspoken shit that sat heavy between Ony and Connie. The bet had been made, and Ony wasn’t the type to back out, but the way Connie was watching him, all smug and knowing, made his blood heat just a little.

Eren twisted in his chair, adjusting the levels on the console. “Aight, we running this from the top?”

Ony pulled the mic stand closer, rolling his shoulders. “Yeah.”

Connie cracked his neck and stepped up beside him. “Try not to get too distracted, big dawg.”

Ony shot him a side glance. “Try not to do too much, R&B ass nigga.”

Connie laughed, stepping back as Eren cued up the beat. The heavy bass dropped, shaking the room, and just like that—they were locked in.

Ony didn’t hesitate when his cue hit, voice sliding into the rhythm, sharp and commanding.

"Come on, ma, you know I got a wife…"

His words hit with weight, the flow raw, guttural. Connie fed off that energy, bouncing on his heels before coming in smooth, vocals slipping through the beat like silk.

The two of them went back and forth, perfect synergy. Connie’s harmonies laced through Ony’s rough delivery like a blade wrapped in velvet. It was effortless—like they had done this in another lifetime.

By the time the chorus hit, Eren was nodding along, Armin tapped his fingers on his knee, and even Mikasa—who hardly reacted to shit—was watching with sharp eyes.

The track faded, and silence took over, but no one spoke at first.

Then Armin leaned forward, pushing his glasses up. “That’s the one.”

Eren smirked. “Yeah. That’s the one.”

Mikasa crossed her arms. “We’re polishing it.”

Ony exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “Nah. It stays.”

Mikasa gave him a flat look. “It’s not up for discussion.”

Ony was about to argue, but Armin waved a hand. “It’s fine as is.”

Mikasa rolled her eyes but didn’t push further. She was outnumbered, and she knew it.

The session wrapped, but the energy still crackled in the air. Connie leaned back against the couch, scrolling through his phone like he had nothing to do with the chaos he had just started.

Ony side-eyed him, still catching his breath. “You real quiet now.”

Connie didn’t look up. “Just letting you breathe before I start talkin’ my shit.”

Eren laughed, shaking his head. “You don’t stop talkin’ shit.”

Connie grinned. “And y’all love me for it.”

Ony wasn’t amused. He leaned forward, forearms on his knees. “The bet still stands?”

Connie locked his phone and met Ony’s gaze. “Yeah. Next Thursday.”

Ony took a slow drag from his blunt, exhaling smoke toward the ceiling. “Aight.”

Connie’s grin widened. “That means yes, you gon’ choke up.”

Ony turned his head slowly, eyes dark. “Nigga, I will slap the gel out your head.”

Connie cackled, throwing a pillow at Ony’s face. “Bet.”

Y/N’s POV: Late Night Thoughts

The glow of Y/N’s laptop screen cast shadows across her face, but she wasn’t really looking at it. The email sat open, the words blurring together, but her mind was miles away.

Across from her, Sasha was sprawled out on the couch, chewing on a bag of chips like she wasn’t causing Y/N a migraine.

Sasha side-eyed her. “You been staring at that email for way too long.”

Y/N sighed, dragging a hand down her face. “It’s just an interview.”

Sasha raised a brow. “It’s not just an interview.”

Y/N shut her laptop with a snap. “Sasha.”

“What?”

“Don’t start.”

Sasha grinned. “Start what? I didn’t say shit.”

“You’re thinking it.”

Sasha tossed a chip in her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “Aight, fine. Let’s say I was thinking something. What exactly do you think I was thinking?”

Y/N shot her a dry look.

Sasha snorted. “Oh my God, just say you’re nervous.”

Y/N huffed. “I’m not nervous.”

Sasha pointed at her with a chip. “Then why you actin’ like the deadline itself is Onyankopon?”

Y/N snatched the bag from her hands.

Sasha let out a dramatic gasp. “Damn. That serious?”

Y/N groaned, leaning back against the couch. “I don’t wanna do this right now.”

Sasha smirked. “Right, right. So when is a good time to unpack the fact that the love of your life—”

Y/N threw the bag back at her. “Don’t start that shit.”

Sasha laughed, catching it with ease. “Fine, fine. But you know I’m right.”

Y/N didn’t answer.

Because deep down, Sasha was right.

And that was the problem.

THE DROP DATE

Twitter/X – 10:47 AM

@REALHipHopTalk: 👀 Ony and Connie really snapped on this track. This some real music.

@bitchwholovesrnb: Connie’s vocals??? Ethereal. Ony slid on that beat like it owed him money.

@notyourbabymama: Y’all hear how Ony was talking on this track??? That nigga got history, LMAO. Somebody broke his soul.

@2Trill4U: Nah, the way they used the OG formula but flipped it into something fresh? This gon’ be in rotation all summer.

@ThirstTrapQueen: Me watching Ony growl his way through the verses like a dog in heat 😩🔥 Sir, I will bark back.

TikTok – 11:23 AM

@TrapScholar (stitching the official music video) 🎶 What these bitches want from a nigga? "—NIGGA, WHO HURT YOU?!"

@RnB4L Connie’s little ‘woo’ ad-lib lives in my head rent free.

@HoodPsychologist POV: You listening to Ony’s verse and realizing this nigga is venting.

(Caption: "Somebody call his therapist.")

@MessyMimi The way Ony said, “Bitch” 😭 That wasn’t in the script. That was personal.

Instagram – 12:02 PM

@TheIndustryPlug (Post: Cover art of the track) 🚨 Ony x Connie – What These Bitches Want (2025 Remix) is officially OUT NOW! 🚨

🔗 Stream it everywhere.

💬 Comments:

🔥 @_TheRealOny: Stay out my business. 🔥 @RNBConnie: 🤣🤣🤣🤣 🔥 @MikasaM: 🤦🏾‍♀️

The studio was way quieter than usual. No crazy bet, no heated back-and-forth—just a chill session with the whole crew vibing.

Ony was leaning back on the couch, blunt in hand, scrolling through his phone. He never cared what people thought of his music, but damn, the reaction had him smirking a little.

Connie, as usual, was living for the attention. He had his phone propped up, live on IG, cheesing while reading the comments. “Damn, y’all nosy as hell,” he laughed, shaking his head.

Eren snorted. “they clocked you mid-breath.”

Connie grinned. “That’s star power, baby.”

Mikasa was sitting near the console, arms crossed. “You two are trending.”

Armin, ever the businessman, was already flipping through analytics on his laptop. “Streams are crazy. We got one million in four hours.”

Ony exhaled smoke, barely reacting. “Cool.”

Connie turned toward him. “Bro, ‘cool’?” He pointed at Armin’s screen. “That’s money.”

Ony shrugged. “It’s what we do.”

Connie sucked his teeth. “You kill my vibe.”

“Not my problem.”

Before Connie could throw a pillow at his head, the studio door swung open.

Sasha walked in, hype as hell, phone in hand. “Y’all SEEING this shit?”

Mikasa sighed. “We’re aware.”

Sasha ignored her, hopping onto the couch beside Connie. “No, ‘cause the way people are picking apart Ony’s verse…” She wiggled her eyebrows, looking straight at Ony.

Ony, unfazed, took another drag. “And?”

Sasha grinned. “And they think you wrote it about somebody.”

The room went quiet.

Eren looked up. Armin shut his laptop. Mikasa sighed again. Connie? Grinning like the devil himself.

Ony rolled his jaw, but he didn’t take the bait. “They think a lot of shit.”

Sasha leaned in. “So they wrong?”

Ony didn’t answer. Just took another hit, eyes locked on his screen.

Connie clapped his hands together. “Aite, y’all know what time it is.”

Ony groaned. “Nigga, shut up.”

Connie laughed. “I would—but you just made this way too fun.”

Y/N sat cross-legged on her bed, phone in one hand, scrolling through Twitter with the other. The TL was on fire.

@notyourbabymama: Nah, Ony was talking to somebody specific on that track. WHO GOT THIS MAN IN HIS FEELINGS?

@2Trill4U: The way this man said “Bitch” like she stole his soul??? 😭

@ThirstTrapQueen: Y’all see how Connie hyped Ony up in the background? That’s a real R&B singer right there.

She snorted, shaking her head. Same internet, same mess.

Then, her phone buzzed.

Connie: 👀 Connie: Lemme know what you think, ma. [🔗 Link to “What These Bitches Want” – Ony x Connie]

Y/N sighed. This nigga…

She hesitated for a second before clicking the link. The song started blasting through her headphones—hard-hitting, raw, and cocky as hell. Connie’s vocals were as smooth as ever, but Ony?

Yeah. That man was spitting venom.

Her stomach twisted. The way he rapped… the way certain lyrics hit? It felt personal.

And then, another notification popped up.

Connie is live now!

Y/N clicked in, and sure enough, there was Connie—lounging in the studio, chain glinting, scrolling through the comments while laughing his ass off.

She smirked. Bet.

@ynlovesfries: Boy, answer your phone.

Connie saw it instantly. “Nahhh, why she in here like she not supposed to be calling me first?” He grinned, shaking his head. “What’s up, trouble?”

@ynlovesfries: Who in trouble?

Connie laughed. “You.”

The comments were eating it up.

🔥 Not y’all arguing like siblings. 🔥 Connie, what you do?? 🔥 Y/N, tell us the tea.

@ynlovesfries: What these bitches want, huh?

Connie hollered. “Ayo, chat, get your girl, man.”

@ynlovesfries: Why Ony sound like he was talkin’ to somebody specific?

Connie gave the camera a knowing look. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Y/N rolled her eyes.

@ynlovesfries: I hate you.

Connie smirked. “Nah, you love me.”

🔥 The chemistry is CRAZY. 🔥 Is Y/N the ex? 👀 🔥 Nah, she know something we don’t.

Y/N snorted, shaking her head. This fool gon’ be annoying all day.

And deep down? She knew he wasn’t gonna let this go.

Connie strolled over and plopped down next to Ony, draping an arm across the couch like he owned the place. The camera caught everything—the dim studio lighting, the way Ony’s diamond earrings and bright-ass chain caught every flicker, making him glow like a damn superstar.

“Aye, Ony,” Connie grinned, eyeing the comments scrolling at light speed. “The ladies say they wanna hear you do that bark you be doin’ in songs.”

Ony, mid-blunt rotation, exhaled slow, thick smoke curling in the air. He side-eyed the camera, his expression unreadable.

The chat exploded.

🔥 NOT THE SIDE EYE OMGGGG 🔥 HIS EARRINGS GLISTENING HE KILLIN ME 🔥 Ony I love you pls just one bark 🔥 WHY IS HE SO FINE FOR NO REASON

Without a word, Ony hit the blunt again, passing it off to Eren, who took it off-camera. He exhaled, voice dropping so deep it damn near rumbled through the mic.

“Why you next to me, Connie?”

CHAOS.

🔥 OH HE KNOW HE FINE LMAOOO 🔥 HIS VOICE JUST PUNCHED ME IN THE CHEST WTF 🔥 HE MAKING EYE CONTACT I CANT BREATHE 🔥 Connie move I wanna sit next to him

Connie threw his head back laughing. “Yo, he got y’all in shambles, man.”

Ony smirked—just barely—then leaned back into the couch, unbothered as hell, while the comments continued losing their minds.

The chat was still losing it over Ony’s deep-ass voice when a new comment popped up.

@ynlovesfries: Ony too cool for the bark now?

Connie’s eyes lit up the second he saw it. “Ayo, nahhh.” He grinned, pointing at the screen. “Look who finally decided to pop in.”

Ony, who had been casually slouched, took a slow sip from his cup—but his shoulders tensed. Just for a second. Blink and you’d miss it.

The comments? Oh, they noticed.

🔥 WHY HE STIFFEN LIKE THAT LMAOOO 🔥 Who is @ynlovesfries and why Ony react like that??? 🔥 That was a GUT REACTION, y’all saw that? 🔥 Oh this some HISTORY HISTORY

Connie was grinning like a man who lived for mess. He turned to Ony. “Ayo, big dog, you got a response or…?”

Ony ignored him. Instead, he grabbed his phone and started scrolling mindlessly, acting like he wasn’t paying attention.

The chat went CRAZY.

🔥 NOT HIM PRETENDING TO BE BUSY 🔥 Boy, we see you! 🔥 WHO IS SHEEEE??

Connie just shook his head, laughing. “Aight, bet. We’ll leave that alone… for now.”

But the way Ony’s jaw flexed?

Yeah. Everybody knew this wasn’t over.

Connie was still going back and forth with Y/N in the comments, laughing at whatever slick response she just sent. The energy was playful, messy—exactly what the chat loved.

Then he hit them with:

“Aye, for the record, she ain’t my girl. We just go way back.” He waved a dismissive hand, eyes still glued to the chat. “I don’t want her busted ass.”

The moment the words left his mouth, Ony—who had been sitting back, real quiet, real unbothered—shifted.

“Watch your mouth.”

Silence.

Connie froze.

The chat? In absolute flames.

🔥 NAHHH WHY HE SAY IT LIKE THAT??? 🔥 Ony said RESPECT HER RIGHT NOW. 🔥 Connie blink twice if you okay. 🔥 This man has not spoken in MINUTES and now he wanna regulate?? 🔥 Y’ALL. HISTORY. THERE IS HISTORY.

Connie glanced over at Ony, who wasn’t even looking at him—just hitting his blunt like nothing happened.

That made it worse.

Connie laughed it off—a little too quickly. “Damn, I was joking.” He looked at the chat, then back at Ony. "you good?”

Ony didn’t answer. He just kept smoking, eyes locked on the screen.

The damage was already done.

The chat was going feral.

🔥 YEAH HE GOT A SOFT SPOT IDC IDC 🔥 Connie you fumbled the convo now spill the tea 🔥 Ony’s reaction was too natural, he BEEN like her 🔥 I KNEWWWW ITTTT

Speculation was at an all-time high. And the worst part?

Ony didn’t correct a damn thing.

The chat was still in shambles from Ony’s warning when a new comment popped up.

@ynlovesfries: Now you gotta put respect on my Constance.

The chat lost its mind.

🔥 NAHHH NOT THE FULL FIRST NAME 🔥 SHE SAID “CONSTANCE” LIKE HIS MAMA 😭😭😭 🔥 HE GOT CHECKED BY BOTH OF THEM LMAOOO 🔥 Connie you gon let that slide??

Connie squinted at the screen, dramatic as hell. “Nah. No, she didn’t.”

He pointed at the camera, looking betrayed. “Don’t be out here government-naming me like I’m in trouble.”

Ony, still leaned back, exhaled smoke slow. “You are in trouble.”

The chat? Finished.

🔥 Y/N & Ony tag team is wild 🔥 Connie getting cooked from all angles 🔥 HE AINT EVEN DEFEND HIMSELF FR

Connie sighed, rubbing his temples. “Man, let’s talk about something else. Y’all play too much.”

Connie was still going back and forth with Y/N in the comments, and the chat was eating it up. Meanwhile, Ony had been posted up, saying nothing, just scrolling his phone like he wasn’t even there.

And the chat noticed.

🔥 Ony just here for vibes? 🔥 Bro acting like he on payroll to sit and smoke 🔥 He really “if it don’t involve me, IDGAF” personified 🔥 Ony blink if they forcing you to be here

Even Connie caught on. He turned to Ony, laughing. “Damn, you gon’ say something or just keep sitting there looking pretty?”

Ony, still cool as hell, arched a brow at the camera. Then he spoke.

“Well, ask me questions then.” He exhaled smoke and tapped his blunt on the tray. “Y’all in the chat nosy fr.”

The chat? Exploding.

🔥 OH SO HE WANNA TALK NOW?? 🔥 Not the callout 😭 🔥 SOMEBODY ASK ABOUT Y/N NOW 🔥 Boy you knew what you were doing with that

Connie leaned back, shaking his head. “Aight, bet. Y’all heard him. Go ahead, ask Mr. Nonchalant whatever you want.”

And just like that, the floodgates opened.

🔥 Ony, what’s your body count? → “Wouldn’t you like to know?” 🔥 What type of girls you like? → “The kind that mind their business.” 🔥 You really like ‘em crazy, huh? → Ony just smirked. “Ain’t say all that.” 🔥 Ayo, what’s up with you and Y/N? → Message deleted by Live Owner

Connie side-eyed the camera, scrolling through the comments. “Y’all moving devious in here, damn.” He shook his head, sipping his drink. “Ony, they saying you dodging too much.”

Ony exhaled smoke and tilted his head. “Well, ask me questions then.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Y’all in the chat nosy fr.”

🔥 OH HE WANNA TALK NOW?? 🔥 SOMEBODY ASK ABOUT Y/N RIGHT NOW 🔥 Boy you knew what you were doing with that 🔥 You keep dodging Y/N like she Steph Curry or sum

The next wave of questions came in even faster.

🔥 Be real, you single or just single for the public? → Ony chuckled. “I don’t do labels.” 🔥 Ony, what was the last text you sent? → “‘Bet. Say less.’” 🔥 When was the last time a girl humbled you? → “Never happened.”

🔥 So when you gon’ settle down? → “When I get tired.”

Connie looked over and laughed. “Boy, stop lying.”

The chat ate it up.

🔥 WE NEED TO FIND HIS LAST EX RN 🔥 He said "when I get tired" like he don’t be fighting sleep already 🔥 Nah, we need Ony’s ex to speak UP

And then, right in the middle of the chaos—

Sasha joined the live.

Her little profile popped up on the screen, and before anybody could even say anything, she hit Ony with the kill shot.

“Hey, Ony—how you wanna bet you gon’ choke when you see Y/N on Thursday?”

BOOM.

🔥 SASHA, PLEASE—😭😭😭 🔥 SHE WASTED NO TIME 🔥 OH WE GETTING TO THE REAL QUESTIONS NOW 🔥 Ony, explain yourself IMMEDIATELY.

Connie was gone. He damn near choked on his drink, coughing while trying to hold in a laugh. “Ayo, chill—” He waved his hand, shaking his head. “Man, it’s an interview. Y’all nosy fr.”

🔥 “An interview” LMAOOO NAH IT’S FATE 🔥 INTERVIEW OR DESTINY??? 🔥 Ony so quiet now, huh? 🔥 Sasha knew what she was doing

Ony? He just sat back, dragging a hand down his face like he was choosing his next words carefully. He let out a slow exhale, passing his blunt back to Eren off-camera.

Connie nudged him. “Damn, bro, you stuck?”

Ony side-eyed him but still didn’t answer.

🔥 OH HE SILENT NOWWW 🔥 HE GOT NOTHING TO SAY HUH? 🔥 Ony, blink twice if you need help 🔥 Sasha knew EXACTLY what she was doing LMFAO

Meanwhile, Sasha was just chilling, biting into a sandwich like she didn’t just drop the biggest bomb of the night.

She licked some sauce off her thumb. “What? I’m just saying.”

🔥 "NAH SASHA BEING MESSY LMAOOO" 🔥 "OH SHE KNOWS SOMETHING—" 🔥 "Y/N JOIN THE LIVE, STOP PLAYING!" 🔥 "DROP THE IG @ WE TRYNA INVESTIGATE."

The comments were moving wild fast, but one stuck out on the screen for a second longer than the rest—

@ynlovesfries: Sasha, you being messy now.

Connie immediately saw it and started laughing. “Ayo, she in here—”

Sasha, mid-chew, didn’t even blink. “And?” She shrugged. “She know I ain’t lying.”

🔥 "YOOO SHE RIGHT HERE AHAHAH" 🔥 "Y/N CONFIRM OR DENY??" 🔥 "NOT HER BESTIE EXPOSING HER ON MAIN."

Then, before Y/N could even try to ignore it, Sasha wiped her fingers off and smirked. “Nah, blame your big head-ass bestie for hosting this live.”

🔥 "BESTIE?? SO THEY CLOSE??" 🔥 "CONNIE WHY YOU AIN’T SAY THAT." 🔥 "OH YEAH, THEY BEEN LINKED, I KNEW IT."

The comments went off.

🔥 "Y/N and Ony definitely had a thing back in the day." 🔥 "WAIT, BESTIE? SO YOU TELLING ME SHE AND CONNIE BEEN CLOSE TOO?" 🔥 "OH, WE NEED Y/N ON THIS LIVE RIGHT NOW."

Connie leaned forward, still scrolling through. “Damn, they on your head, ma.” He chuckled. “Y’all got my comments in detective mode.”

🔥 "NAH, CONNIE DON’T DEFLECT, CONFIRM OR DENY??" 🔥 "Y/N, WE NEED ANSWERS, STOP HIDING!" 🔥 "ON Y/N TO FINALLY SAY SOMETHING."

Sasha sat back, sipping her drink, looking at the chat like she wasn’t the one who just stirred the entire pot.

Then someone finally asked the real question.

🔥 "So if Y/N and Connie besties… does that mean she was around Ony back then?"

🔥 "OOOOHHH WAIT A MINUTE." 🔥 "SO THEY DID KNOW EACH OTHER." 🔥 "THIS LIVE GETTING GOOD."

And now? All eyes were on Ony.

Ony, who was still sitting back, still looking unbothered—except for the fact that he hadn’t said shit.

Connie saw the silence and smirked. “Damn, why he quiet now?”

🔥 "ONYANKOPON, EXPLAIN YOURSELF NOW." 🔥 "Y/N, JUST JOIN THE LIVE AND END THIS MYSTERY." 🔥 "NAH, HE AVOIDING EYE CONTACT AHAHAH."

Sasha side-eyed the screen. “Mm.” She popped another fry in her mouth. “He shook.”

As soon as Y/N’s name popped up on the live screen, the comments went crazy.

🔥 "SHE REALLY JOINED??" 🔥 "OH IT’S ABOUT TO GET GOOD." 🔥 "CONNIE, DON’T FOLD NOW."

The split screen loaded, and there she was—Y/N, sitting back in her room, hoodie on, bonnet secured, looking unbothered.

"Y’all really begged me to get on here," she deadpanned, adjusting her camera.

Connie cracked up immediately. "Nah, don’t act like you wasn’t watching the whole time."

"And?" She raised a brow. "I could’ve stayed lurking."

🔥 "LMAO SHE A LURKER FR." 🔥 "NAH, SHE BEEN HERE, JUST WAITING."

Ony, still laid back, exhaled slow through his nose. He passed the blunt off to Eren and finally spoke.

"Y’all don’t got nothing better to do on this live, huh?" His voice was deep, a little raspy, dragging with that same slow, laid-back energy that made people hang on every word.

🔥 "ONYANKOPON HAS SPOKEN." 🔥 "WHY HE SOUND LIKE THAT THOUGH." 🔥 "NAH, MY KNEES WEAK WTF."

And then, out of nowhere—

@dreamdoll_23: "I'm not Cinderella, but I know it fits 😏."

🔥 "WAIT, WHAT??" 🔥 "OH SHE SHOOTING HER SHOT." 🔥 "NAH, GET HER ON THIS LIVE TOO."

Ony paused mid-blunt pass. His dark eyes flicked down at the screen, squinting slightly.

"Ayo, who said that?" He shifted, leaning in closer. "Tell her hit me up."

🔥 "OH HE BOLD—" 🔥 "NO WAY HE JUST SAID THAT." 🔥 "ONYANKOPONYOU GOTTA RELAX."

Y/N? Dead silent.

She side-eyed the camera, clicked the 'leave' button, and was gone before anyone could say a damn thing.

🔥 "LMAOO SHE LEFT—" 🔥 "OH SHE MAD AHAHA." 🔥 "WHY SHE DODGE LIKE THAT??"

Connie? Cackling.

Sasha? Shaking her head.

Ony? Just smirked. "Aight, aight ." Then he took another drag, like he ain’t just set the chat on fire.

As soon as Y/N dipped from the live, the chat lost its mind.

🔥 "NAH SHE REALLY LEFT—" 🔥 "SHE DIPPED SO FAST LMAOO." 🔥 "ONYANKOPON YOU IN TROUBLE."

Connie was still laughing, shaking his head while sipping from his cup. “Damn, she really ain’t wanna stick around for that.”

Ony? Unbothered.

He stretched, flexing just a little as he leaned back into the couch, scrolling through the comments. Then his gaze flicked back to @dreamdoll_23, the one who said she wasn’t Cinderella but knew it fit.

"Ayo, shorty, you still in here?" He smirked, reaching for his phone.

🔥 "OMG NOT HIM LOOKING FOR HER." 🔥 "HE REALLY BOUT TO FLIRT??" 🔥 "Y/N BOUT TO THROW HANDS LMAOO."

@dreamdoll_23 commented: "I’m here, what's up? 👀"

Ony grinned, licking his bottom lip. "Aight, bet. Drop your IG real quick."

The chat went insane.

🔥 "ONYANKOPON YOU A MENACE." 🔥 "Y/N LEFT TWO SECONDS AGO AND YOU ALREADY MOVING??" 🔥 "BRO GOT NO CHILL."

Connie, watching from the side, shook his head and muttered, "Nah, this man different."

Once @dreamdoll_23 dropped her IG, Ony clicked over to her page right there on live. The screen dimmed slightly as he scrolled through her pictures.

"Oh, you look good, ma." His voice was smooth, deep, dragging in that slow, syrupy way that made the chat explode.

🔥 "NOT HIM DOING THIS IN FRONT OF US." 🔥 "HE REALLY SCROLLING THROUGH HER PICS??" 🔥 "Y/N AIN’T GON LIKE THIS."

Ony smirked, tapping on one of her photos. “Damn, where you from?”

@dreamdoll_23: "NYC, why? You trying to fly me out? 👀"

Connie lost it, nearly spitting out his drink. "Oh hell nah," he wheezed.

Sasha popped back into the chat. "LMAOO not Ony with the bottle girl rizz on IG live."

Ony, still scrolling through her page, chuckled. "I might. You tryna get flewed out?"

🔥 "NOT FLEWED OUT—" 🔥 "OH HE IN HIS BAG NOW." 🔥 "Y/N GONNA BE HOT WHEN SHE SEES THIS."

Someone in the chat: "She look good, but she not Y/N tho."

The whole vibe shifted for a second.

🔥 "LMAOOOOOOO YALL PETTY." 🔥 "WHO SAID THAT." 🔥 "NO ONE CAN ESCAPE Y/N'S SHADOW I SWEAR."

Ony? Still scrolling, still cool. "Y’all love bringing up old shit," he muttered, but there was the tiniest flicker of something in his expression.

Connie? Watching like a hawk.

Sasha? Not letting up.

"Ayo, Ony, you can flirt all you want, but bet money you still gon' freeze up when you see Y/N next week."

🔥 "OHHHHH SHIT." 🔥 "SHE NOT WRONG THO." 🔥 "ONYNKOPON, BE HONEST—YOU SHOOK?"

Ony chuckled, shaking his head. He took another slow drag from his blunt, exhaled thick smoke, and said,

"Man, y’all really think I'm worried? Aight, bet. We’ll see."

a next girl shot her shot saying they say shooters shot hey Onyankopon Carter what up with you.

The moment that comment hit the chat, the whole live went stupid.

🔥 "NAH SHE ATE THAT." 🔥 "SHE SAID WHAT SHE SAID." 🔥 "Y/N COME BACK IMMEDIATELY."

Onyankopon grinned, flashing his grillz as he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “Aight, who said that?” He scrolled back up, eyes flicking over the flood of reactions. @bigfine94—her profile pic was cute, lips glossy, nails done.

“Ayo, @bigfine94, I see you,” Ony said, his voice dropping a little.

🔥 "LMAO NOT HIM ACKNOWLEDGING IT." 🔥 "SHE REALLY BOLD FOR THAT ONE." 🔥 "SOMEONE GET Y/N ON THE LINE."

@bigfine94: "Yeah, yeah, you see me. But what’s up with you?"

Ony chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m chillin’, ma. You out here tryna make me risk it all on live?”

🔥 "NOT RISK IT ALL—" 🔥 "Y/N GONNA HAVE TO CLOCK IN." 🔥 "THIS MAN TOO SMOOTH WTF."

@bigfine94: "I mean… that smile would look even better when I’m looking back at you. 👀"

THE WHOLE CHAT LOST IT.

🔥 "NAH SHE WON." 🔥 "SHE REALLY SHOT FROM HALF-COURT." 🔥 "Y/N WHERE YOU AT BABY??"

Connie fell out laughing, slapping his knee. “Yo, I like her! She got bars!”

Even Eren, off-camera, let out a low whistle. “Damn.”

Ony? Grinning, licking his bottom lip. "Oh, you bold, bold."

@bigfine94: "Gotta be when it comes to you. 😘"

🔥 "SHE WANT HIM FR." 🔥 "Y/N CHECK YOUR PHONE NOW." 🔥 "ONYANKOPON SMILING TOO HARD."

Ony leaned back, rubbing his jaw. “Aight, @bigfine94, I’ma remember you.”

Connie shook his head, still laughing. “Yeah, you gon’ remember when Y/N cusses your ass out.”

🔥 "CONNIE KNOWS THE TRUTH." 🔥 "THIS GON BE A PROBLEM." 🔥 "Y/N GOTTA SEE THIS."

And just like that, the chat had a new mission—tagging Y/N everywhere.

The chat was already in shambles, but the second Y/N’s name popped up again, things escalated.

🔥 "NAH WHERE Y/N AT??" 🔥 "SHE GOTTA SEE THIS." 🔥 "THAT GIRL REALLY TOOK HER SHOT AND HE SMILING TOO HARD LMAOO."

Sasha, who had been kicking back, watching the chaos unfold, finally spoke up on the live. She adjusted her camera and squinted at the chat.

“Ayo, y’all messy as hell.” She shook her head, laughing. “Why y’all keep bringing Y/N into this? She don’t know Ony like that.”

🔥 "SASHA, BABY, WHY YOU LYIN'??" 🔥 "👀👀👀 SHE SAID WHAT NOW??" 🔥 "NAH WE GOT RECEIPTS."

And just like that, someone in the chat decided to be a full-blown detective.

@deepdiver56: "NAH NAH. You a liar. If y’all scroll all the way down Ony's IG, there’s a pic of them together looking real cozy."

🔥 "WAIT, WAIT, WAIT—" 🔥 "SAY YOU SWEAR." 🔥 "SOMEBODY PULL UP THE LINK IMMEDIATELY."

Ony, who had been laughing, smirking, and playing along this whole time—froze.

Not for long. Just a split-second hesitation. But it was long enough for the chat to notice.

🔥 "GOT HIM." 🔥 "HE FROZE UP LMAOOO." 🔥 "NAH NOW WE NEED ANSWERS."

Connie caught that too, and this man WAS LOVING IT. He leaned into the camera, grinning.

“Damn, Ony, why you stop laughing?” He tilted his head. “You ain’t got nothing to say?”

🔥 "CONNIE A MENACE." 🔥 "HE POKIN’ THE BEAR LMAO." 🔥 "ONY STIFF AS HELL RN."

Ony exhaled slowly, licking his bottom lip before sitting back and picking up his blunt. He took a deep pull, the ember glowing as the chat waited on his response.

“Niggas be bringing up ancient history,” he muttered, voice smooth, heavy. He passed the blunt to Eren off-camera, not looking at the phone.

🔥 "OH HE SICK." 🔥 "‘ANCIENT HISTORY’ MY ASS." 🔥 "Y/N NEEDS TO WAKE UP RN."

Sasha, seeing how cornered Ony looked, tried to smooth things over. “Look, all I’m saying is y’all reading too deep into shit.”

The chat wasn’t hearing it.

@pullupreceipts: "NOOOO CUZ LOOK—"

And before Ony could even shut it down, someone had dropped the link to the old post.

🔥 "YALL MOVE TOO FAST WTF." 🔥 "OH NAH, THIS PIC KINDA INTIMATE??" 🔥 "ONY, BE SO FR RIGHT NOW."

Connie grabbed his phone, clicked the link, and busted out laughing. “Oh yeah,” he said, spinning his phone to Ony’s face. “Bro, you can’t tell me this don’t look like something.”

Ony glanced at it, jaw tensing slightly. The pic wasn’t even that bad—just an old shot from way back. Him and Y/N at some house party, shoulder to shoulder, his arm resting behind her on the couch, a red cup in his other hand.

But the way he was looking at her?

🔥 "NAH. HE LOOKS WHIPPED." 🔥 "HE CAN'T EVEN DENY IT." 🔥 "Y/N BETTER TAP IN REAL QUICK."

Ony sucked his teeth and waved Connie off, voice gruff. “Man, get that out my face.”

🔥 "HE MAD." 🔥 "NAH THIS LIVE TOO GOOD." 🔥 "Y/N WE NEED A RESPONSE ASAP."

And just like that, the entire chat was blowing up her notifications.

Some raggedy tea page said they were gonna record the live

The chat exploded at that statement, and things took a sharp turn.

🔥 "NAH THEY REALLY ABOUT TO MAKE A VIDEO OUTTA THIS??" 🔥 "I CAN'T WAIT TO SEE THIS ON YOUTUBE." 🔥 "SOMEONE SCREENSHOT THIS. I NEED TO KNOW WHAT THEY GONNA SAY ABOUT THIS LIVE."

Connie, ever the instigator, couldn't help but laugh at the drama unfolding. “Yo, they really gonna make content outta this? I might as well sell my clips to ‘em at this point.”

🔥 "CONNIE A MESS." 🔥 "HE TOO COMFORTABLE WITH THE CHAOS." 🔥 "IF THIS GETS PUT ON YOUTUBE, YALL KNOW IT’S GOING VIRAL."

Sasha rolled her eyes from the side, shaking her head. “Man, y’all wild.” But even she couldn’t deny the entertainment value of the situation.

Then, the tea page made their mark:

@TeaTimeWithTash: “I’m recording this entire live. I’m dissecting every second for my YouTube, y’all better believe that. Stay tuned.”

🔥 "SHE'S DOING GOD'S WORK." 🔥 "I'M FINNA BE IN THE COMMENTS." 🔥 "THEY GONNA EXPOSE EVERYTHING."

Ony sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, looking done. “Y’all really finna turn this into a whole show, huh?” he muttered under his breath. He looked straight into the camera, his eyes narrowing. “Fine. Keep playing. Just wait ‘til the real interview drops. Then we’ll see who really has the story.”

🔥 "OOOOOH, TALK YOUR TALK." 🔥 "HE READY TO DROP THE TRUTH." 🔥 "MAN SAID THE REAL STORY."

Connie leaned back and shrugged, pretending to be nonchalant. “Shit, let ‘em have their fun. The reception is already wild.”

Sasha, realizing just how deep the mess was getting, tried to get things back on track. “Aight, aight, that’s enough for today. Y’all are really out here making mikasa's job harder.”

But the chat was relentless. Everyone had their eyes glued to the screen.

🔥 "YALL KNOW THIS ABOUT TO GO CRAZY ON THE INTERNET." 🔥 "SASHA, YOU KNOW YOU CAN’T STOP THE STORM." 🔥 "SO WHAT ABOUT THAT PIC??"

The chaos finally calmed down, but only slightly. Connie, still lounging comfortably in the chair, leaned back and checked his phone. His smile faltered when he saw his notifications blowing up—from Y/N.

He rolled his eyes, his lips curling into a grin as he swiped open his messages. Y/N’s texts were coming in fast and furious, each one more fiery than the last:

Y/N: "I swear, you really out here causing trouble? What’s this nonsense you got me involved in?" Y/N: "Why you acting like I’m some kind of side chick?"

Connie bit back a laugh, knowing exactly what he was doing. He wasn’t about to let this slide. His fingers tapped out a quick reply:

Connie: "C’mon Ma, it ain't like that. Chill, we all know it’s just some fun."

But before he could finish typing, his phone started blowing up again—this time with voice notes from Y/N. He looked over at Ony, who was still quietly smoking, smirking at the chaos and still watching people go off on the live. The fans in the comments had noticed Connie’s sudden activity on his other phone and took it the wrong way.

🔥 "Connie out here texting some girl while on live??" 🔥 "We see you, Connie. Don’t act like we don’t know." 🔥 "I swear Connie’s always got some new girl on the side."

Meanwhile, Connie was trying to hold it together, though his attention was clearly split. He didn’t care much about the comments—he was more focused on Y/N’s voice notes.

He pressed play on the first one:

Y/N’s voice: “Don’t even try to play me right now. You really out here acting like we cool with this? I’m not one of your damn groupies.”

Connie couldn't help but chuckle. "I know she’s mad… but damn, she sound good." He quickly hit reply:

Connie: "You know I ain't like that. Stop trippin', it’s just a lil’ live to mess with the fans."

The next voice note came through, and it was longer this time.

Y/N’s voice: “Man, don’t play with me. You know what you’re doing. You can’t keep me out here looking dumb for a bunch of randoms who think they know us. I ain’t some prop you can use for content, Connie. Stop it.”

Connie looked at the screen, grinning mischievously. He knew he had to play it cool.

Connie: "C’mon, ma. You know I got love for you. It’s just for the live. Ain’t nobody here serious, and you know that. But you gonna make me pull up on you again, huh?"

He clicked send and leaned back, glancing at Ony who was now chuckling under his breath. The reactions on the live had already taken a life of their own, with people speculating left and right.

🔥 "Y’all peepin’ Connie’s texts?" 🔥 "He gotta be texting some girl. Ain’t no way he not." 🔥 "Yo, why y’all making this mess, Connie?"

Connie just smiled to himself. “Nah, don’t worry. This ain't what they think.”

But the situation was spiraling in ways no one could’ve predicted. Connie was getting his inbox blown up with messages from fans who thought it was all about him texting a new girl.

🔥 "Connie, you got a new shorty or nah?" 🔥 "Y’all gotta put some respect on Y/N's name tho, why she getting dragged into this mess?"

As the notifications kept popping up, Connie got a quick idea. He typed out another message to Y/N:

Connie: "Let me call you. I ain't finna let the fans get this twisted. Let's talk it out."

He hit send, then quickly switched back to the live screen. The fans were still commenting, but now their focus was split. Some of them were more intrigued about the mystery woman, while others were invested in whether Connie and Y/N would finally clear things up.

The live ended after a few more minutes, but Connie wasn't done just yet. He called Y/N directly, hoping she’d answer—knowing the game wasn’t over until they both had their say.

Y/N’s POV:

The second I left that damn live, I felt relief—but it was short-lived. The chaos I had just stepped away from continued to churn in the background like a storm. I pulled my phone out of my pocket, fingers hovering over the screen for a moment as I took a deep breath.

I knew I had to check.

I opened my spam account, because this was definitely the kind of mess that needed to be observed with a little distance. The comments section was on fire, and I couldn’t even blink without something new popping up. People were dissecting every word I said, every movement, and the way Ony reacted to me. Honestly? I wasn’t surprised. They’d been on our necks since day one, trying to piece together a puzzle we weren't even sure of ourselves.

I scrolled through the live recap and watched it all unfold again:

Ony still sitting there, looking like he was unbothered, but I knew deep down it was all just an act. The way he was flirting with those girls, dropping bars like it was nothing, and the way he casually slipped into his player role. It made my stomach churn in a way I couldn’t quite explain. I shouldn’t be mad—I mean, that was Ony after all—but for some reason, today hit different.

He wasn’t even trying to hide it, really. He kept calling out the girls, knowing full well the camera was on him, reading off the comments. He wasn’t even sparing me a second of attention… until they started mentioning my name.

The comments flooded in:

🔥 "I heard Y/N and Ony used to be close, anyone else see that old pic of them together?" 🔥 "Y’all think they linked up again?" 🔥 "Yo, anyone else notice Ony stiffen when they said her name?"

I saw Connie’s comment too, cracking jokes, calling me out for being messy, and every time I saw his face, I wanted to scream. He was egging everything on. He knew exactly what he was doing. And I was over here, stuck in my head, trying to figure out why the hell I ever thought we’d have a chance at being something real.

But as I kept watching, something caught my eye. Ony—he was still flirting, but there was that moment… That moment when someone had mentioned my name again. He froze, and it was almost unnoticeable. The way his body stiffened, how his eyes flickered for just a second. He’d seen me, right? He had to have.

My chest tightened, the whole situation getting way more personal than it had any right to. And then, out of nowhere, the screen filled with this one comment that I wasn’t ready for:

🔥 "Ayo, if y’all scroll down Ony's IG, there's a pic of him and Y/N looking mad cozy. Bet they used to mess with each other for real."

It felt like my breath caught in my throat as I immediately pulled up his Instagram, my thumb moving on its own. The pic was there, the one we tried to forget. Me and Ony, our arms draped around each other, looking like we were in our own little world. The comments exploded with speculation, and it didn’t help that Ony froze in the live when it was brought up.

That was the part I had been trying to avoid. The truth I had been running from.

I was just about to back out when Sasha’s voice broke through my thoughts. She was on the live too, teasing Ony and Connie about us. I was already feeling awkward enough but hearing Sasha say, “Sasha you being messy now, they don’t even know Ony like that,” just made it worse. It was clear that everyone knew something was going on, even if no one had the full story.

And then came the comment that made me sigh.

🔥 "Nah nah, u a liar. If y’all scroll all the way down, Ony’s IG got pics of him and Y/N from back in the day looking real cozy!"

That moment was the one where everything changed. The floodgates opened. The speculations were no longer rumors. They were facts now, and I couldn’t deny it. My phone was buzzing like crazy, Connie was probably texting me again, and I didn’t even know how to respond.

I needed space.

I needed time to think about it all. But all I wanted to do was shut down. So I turned my phone off for a second, letting out a long breath. What the hell was I doing? What was this really all about?

The minute I swiped my phone back on, I could feel the weight of it all. Connie had probably texted me again, and I knew damn well that Ony was probably still trying to keep up the same front in the live. The world seemed to be spinning faster than I could keep up. I could feel the drama building, and I wasn’t sure if I was ready for whatever came next.

But before I could process it, my phone buzzed again. This time, it was a new message:

“You up?”

It was from Connie.

I took a deep breath, knowing this was the moment where everything could either get better… or even worse.

I stared at my phone, the screen lighting up with Connie’s name flashing across my notifications. Text after text and a voice note popping up right after. My fingers hovered over the screen as I debated whether to even listen to his damn voice notes. I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was probably laughing his ass off on the other side, thinking this whole mess was some kind of game.

But I wasn’t playing.

I wasn’t sure if it was the live still replaying in my mind or the fact that the whole world seemed to be speculating about my past with Ony, but I couldn’t take it anymore.

I tapped on the first message.

Connie: “Ayo, you see what’s going on in the live? You know the fans always digging for something, but you’re making it worse by not even acknowledging it. Come on, we just having fun!”

I rolled my eyes. Fun? Really? This wasn’t fun. This was messy, and I didn’t sign up for this shit. I typed a reply, my fingers typing faster than my brain could process.

Y/N: “Messy?? You think this is funny? You’re encouraging this chaos, and I’m over here trying to move on, and now all of a sudden my entire past with Ony’s getting dragged up. You think that’s a joke?!”

I stared at the screen for a second, feeling my pulse quicken. His next voice note buzzed through.

Connie's Voice Note: "C'mon, Y/N. I get it, you're not into all this public drama, but look, they love to speculate, and that's what they do. Just let it ride, fam. Ony ain't trippin', you shouldn’t either. You already know how the game goes. No need to act like you ain't got a little fun in you. You good, I promise.”

His voice was calm, but that didn’t make me feel any better. If anything, it pissed me off more. I took a moment to breathe, then replied, feeling the heat rise in my chest.

Y/N: “Nah, I don’t care if we’re best friends, this shit ain’t funny, Connie. You’re out here hyping it up like it’s a damn game. I’m over it. I didn’t ask for any of this. I’m not some side character in y’all’s reality show, and I’m done letting people drag me into this mess.”

I hit send, then threw my phone on the couch, running my hands through my hair. This whole situation had gone from annoying to straight-up frustrating. I wasn’t a part of their drama—not anymore—and if they couldn’t see that, I didn’t know what to do.

Then the phone buzzed again, almost instantly.

Connie’s Text: "Alright, alright. My bad, I feel you. But you know how these lives go. Don’t stress it. You know me better than anyone, and I got your back."

I stared at the message for a long moment, trying to process it. He wasn’t wrong about one thing: I did know him better than anyone. But that didn’t make it any easier to ignore what had happened in the live. Ony was in there, putting on his usual show, acting like everything was just business as usual.

But this wasn’t business as usual to me.

Ony and I had a past. That wasn’t something that could be erased just because people were speculating. And the way he just sat there, flirting with those fans while I was being dragged through the mud, made me question a lot of things.

I leaned back, shaking my head. He had a way of making everything seem effortless, like nothing ever mattered. But maybe that was the problem.

Maybe it never mattered to him.

I closed my eyes for a second, letting the thoughts settle. The buzz of my phone pulled me back to reality. Another text, this time from Connie.

Connie: "Y/N, seriously. I’m just trying to lighten the mood. Look, Ony will handle it. The live's over, and the smoke will clear. You’ll see."

I didn’t reply right away. Instead, I felt my frustration bubble up again. If only it were that easy. But nothing with Ony was ever easy.

I grabbed my phone, hit Connie's number, and let it ring through, hoping he'd answer. He picked up on the third ring.

“Y/N, I know you're mad, but—”

I didn’t let him finish. “Connie, this isn’t about you or me. It’s about the fact that I’m not playing this game. I don’t care if you think it’s fun. I’m tired of being caught in the middle of this shit. It’s messy. I didn’t sign up for it, and I’m done being your entertainment.”

There was silence on the other end for a second. “I get it,” he finally said, voice softer. “I really do. But, Y/N, you know better than anyone, the game never stops. People love the drama, and they love the what-if stories. Hell, we all do.”

I sighed, feeling the weight of everything. “Not this time,” I muttered, before hanging up.

I wasn’t looking for drama. I wasn’t here to be part of a show. I was done with that life.

But somehow, I couldn’t stop thinking about the one person who was always in the background of it all—Ony. And I wasn’t sure I could ever really move past it.

I heard Connie chuckle on the other end of the line, and I immediately knew where this was going.

“I know what this is about,” he said, a playful tone in his voice. “It’s about Ony flirting with those IG baddies on the live, isn’t it? That’s what’s got you all stressed out like this.”

My stomach dropped. He wasn’t wrong, but hearing him say it out loud just made everything feel more real, more exposed. I rubbed my temple, letting out a frustrated sigh.

“Connie,” I said, my voice low. “Don’t act like I’m the only one who saw that. You think I don’t know how this looks? I’m over here, trying to handle everything, and he’s out there, acting like he didn’t just ruin everything. Flirting with those girls, and I’m supposed to just let it slide?”

There was a brief silence on the other end, and I could almost hear Connie processing my words. Then he finally spoke up again, his tone quieter this time.

“Look, Y/N, I’m not saying you’re wrong for feeling like this. But I’m telling you, Ony’s not like that. He’s always been this way. You know him better than anyone else, and you know how he plays the game.”

“I get that, Connie, but that doesn’t make it easier,” I snapped, my patience wearing thin. “I can’t keep pretending like it’s all just for show. When it’s me, it’s real. So what the hell am I supposed to think when he’s out there laughing it off?”

Connie let out a deep breath. “I get it. You want him to be real with you, but he’s… well, he’s Ony. You know how he is. He keeps his distance. That’s his thing. He doesn’t let people in.”

“Yeah, well,” I muttered, my frustration bubbling back to the surface, “I used to think I was someone he let in.”

“Y/N, come on,” Connie said softly, a little more serious now. “You know he’s always had a way of keeping things complicated. But you were always more than just another girl to him. If you think otherwise, you’ve got it twisted.”

I felt a lump form in my throat at his words. Connie always knew how to hit me where it hurt, even when he wasn’t trying to. It was too easy for him to say things like that, to remind me that I wasn’t just a part of the game.

But that didn’t change the fact that Ony had chosen to let me walk away. He could’ve stopped me. He didn’t.

And now, it was too late.

I swallowed hard, trying to keep myself composed. “I’m not going to be a part of his little publicity stunt just to make him look good,” I said firmly. “This isn’t some reality TV show. It’s my life.”

Connie paused before answering, his voice a little more hesitant. “I feel you. But, look, Ony’s not trying to hurt you. He’s just… doing his thing. You just gotta trust that he knows what he’s doing. When you see him Thursday, you’ll see it.”

“You think so?” I asked, the words heavy with doubt.

“Yeah. I do.” There was a moment of silence between us before Connie added, “And if you need to talk before Thursday, you know where to find me.”

I didn’t respond right away, taking a few seconds to breathe before I finally said, “Yeah. Thanks, Connie. I’ll think about it.”

After a beat, I hung up.

My mind was racing. What was I even supposed to think about all this?

I tossed my phone back down onto the couch, staring at the ceiling as the weight of everything pressed down on me. Ony was out there, doing his thing, while I was over here, trying to make sense of it all. But was I really going to let him walk all over me again? Just because he wanted to keep up the player image?

I wasn’t sure I could keep up with this anymore. And the hardest part was that I didn’t know whether I even wanted to try.

But one thing was for sure—I wasn’t just going to sit back and let him get away with it. Not this time.