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all444glo · 8 days ago

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BETWEEN US

🎞️: the olympics brought you closer. now a championship party brings everything to a head

⚠️: mfm threesome, jealousy, poly tension,language, praise + degradation, light possessiveness, double penetration, exhibition hints, deep affection, competitive men being messy

Nobody ever talks about how lonely the Olympics can be.

The lights, the press, the medals—yeah, it’s loud. But the nights? When you’re in some sterile dorm in a foreign city and your body’s aching in places you didn’t know existed, and the only people you can be real with are the ones going through it too?

That’s when you get close. Real close. To your teammates, to your health team, to other athletes.

That’s how it started with the three of you. Long-ass nights, half-dressed in compression shorts and tank tops, sitting on tile floors with Gatorade bottles and stories you shouldn’t’ve told. You were on the national soccer team. On a historical run, surrounded by vets from all over the world. You were young, hungry, and ready to win—just like Ant and Ty.

Tyrese was the one who made you laugh.

Anthony was the one who made you quiet.

It was harmless at first. The three of you did everything together. Walked markets in Harajuku. Snuck mochi into dorms. Stole time between practices. When you’d walk between them, they’d both tilt inward like they were protecting you from the world. Tyrese made playlists for your commutes. Ant always carried your charger in his bag just in case.

One night, after some exhibition match, Tyrese told a story that had you doubled over on the couch, cheeks hot from laughing. You didn’t notice Ant staring at you until you wiped your eyes and caught him mid-glance. He looked away so fast it made your stomach flip.

He never said anything.

But from then on, the air felt different when he was near you. Quieter. Charged.

You loved the 360 Ant did when he was around you—the whole “crashout” persona gone. He was just him. It’s what made you fall for him.

But you also noticed the way Tyrese started sitting closer, letting his thigh touch yours, offering his hoodie before you even said you were cold. He wasn’t subtle. He never was.

Tyrese was loud about the way he liked you—mentioning you in interviews, posting up with you on Instagram. Maybe that’s what made you really fall for him.

So when he kissed you after that last game—soft, certain, in the shadow of the locker room—you didn’t stop him. Of course Anthony saw it happen from across the hallway and ducked his head like it hurt to look. You pretended you didn’t see him.

But you did.

A year and some change later, you and Tyrese were still together. No strangers to winning. You were signed to Barcelona, predicted to go to the Champions League once again. Tyrese led his team to their first championship. Life was beyond good for you two.

The party wasn’t wild—just a few teammates, a couple cousins, the people who’d been down since high school. The ones who knew the win felt too big to celebrate with strangers.

Your shared house still smelled like fresh flowers and tequila. You were barefoot, moving between the kitchen and the back patio with a champagne flute you’d barely touched. Tyrese kept pulling you into side hugs like he couldn’t believe you were real. Like he had to keep checking that the championship ring wasn’t a dream—and neither were you.

Then Ant showed up.

You knew he was coming—Ty had mentioned it in passing—but it still felt like a breath caught in your throat.

He wore all black. Of course he did. Black tee, black joggers, clean shoes. Silver chain catching the light. His eyes flicked to you when he walked in, and he smiled a little, but didn’t come over.

The music was louder in the kitchen, bass thumping low under people’s laughter and the sizzle of oil on the stove. Tyrese stood near the counter, pouring tequila into two red cups. He didn’t bother with a chaser. Neither did Anthony.

“Good looks,” Anthony muttered, taking the cup and leaning against the fridge. “Your spot always got the good shit.”

“‘Cause I don’t let everybody drink here,” Tyrese said with a grin, lifting his cup in a half-toast. “I gotta have an idea of where yo lips been.”

They drank. Anthony swallowed his slow, eyes roaming the living room through the open archway where you were laughing with a few other folks—head tilted back, your waist beads catching a sliver of light when you moved just right.

“On some real shit…”

“Yo.”

“What.”

“She ever call you ‘Ant’ in that voice?”

Anthony raised his brow over the rim of his cup, squinting like Tyrese just asked him something crazy. “What voice?”

“You know that voice,” Tyrese said, grinning, shoulders bouncing like he already knew he was being messy. “That little raspy-ass one she use when she want somethin’?”

Anthony blinked, then looked away—like he didn’t wanna confirm. Like his silence wasn’t loud as hell.

“Oh yeah,” Tyrese said, smirking as he poured another shot. “She be doin’ that shit to you too, huh.”

“Man, shut up.”

“Nah, you shut up.” He slid him the shot and leaned on the counter with a cocky tilt. “I knew somethin’ was up in Tokyo. You used to look at her like she had gold on her ass.”

Anthony snorted. “And you used to jump up every time she needed help openin’ a water bottle.”

“‘Cause I’m a gentleman,” Tyrese deadpanned. “You was sittin’ over there rock hard behind a Gatorade towel.”

Anthony shook his head, laughing into his drink. “Boy, you lucky you moved fast.”

“Nah, you lucky I’m generous.”

That made Anthony pause. He gave him a side-eye. “Generous how?”

Tyrese sipped, eyes low. “You want her bad as me. We could just… figure somethin’ out.”

“You talkin’ ‘bout a poly shit again?” Anthony squinted. “You sound like you tryna do a group project with my dick involved. I don’t like that.”

Tyrese cracked up, leaning forward. “Nigga, shut up! I’m just sayin’, she loves you too. Don’t act like you never felt that shit.”

Anthony looked away for a beat, jaw flexin’. “She ain’t say it.”

“She ain’t gotta. That girl blush when you in the room. Get extra soft with you. She don’t do that shit with me.”

“So what you tryna say?”

“I’m sayin’ maybe she ain’t gotta choose.”

Anthony scoffed. “You think that’s how that work? You gon’ be cool with me puttin’ it down?”

“Nigga, please,” Tyrese said. “I bet you I fuck her better.”

Anthony choked on his drink. For real this time. Turned half away, coughing, hand on his chest.

“Oh nah. You got me fucked up,” he rasped, wiping his mouth. “You talkin’ crazy now.”

“Am I lyin’, though?”

Anthony stepped forward, cup dangling from his fingers. “You think just ‘cause you be talkin’ sweet, you the only one who know what she like?”

“I know she like my pace,” Tyrese said, smooth. “You the type to rush.”

Anthony’s grin turned wolfish. “Nah, I’m the type to finish shit.”

They stood there for a second, too quiet for it to still be funny. Both of them lookin’ just a little too serious. Then Tyrese broke first, laughing like he couldn’t help it.

“You really tight, huh.”

Anthony smirked. “I just don’t like losin’, that’s all.”

“If that was true we woulda saw yall

in the finals but—.” Tyrese looked toward the living room, where you were still out of earshot, smiling at something somebody said. “But if this really happen… that means we both gotta bring it.”

Anthony followed his eyes, then took another sip, letting the burn ride out.

“Just don’t get mad when she start screamin’ my name louder,” he muttered.

“Nigga, please.”

You found them both outside a little while later—leaning on opposite sides of the back fence like they’d just finished arguing or plotting something. The air smelled like heat, cologne, and bad decisions. Tyrese beckoned you over with two fingers and a smirk.

“You good, baby?” he asked, sliding a hand to your waist the second you got close.

You nodded, but your eyes were already drifting to Anthony, who still hadn’t said a word. His gaze dipped from your waist beads to your mouth, then flicked back up like he hadn’t just traced every inch of you with his eyes.

Tyrese noticed.

“Tell her man,” he said, licking his lips like he was about to say something reckless. “Tell her what we was talkin’ ‘bout.”

Anthony tilted his head. “You full of shit”

“Hell nah, you must be scared now?”

Anthony exhaled slow through his nose, then looked at you. Dead in your face. “We wanna fuck you.”

The way your heart jumped made your knees soften. You blinked.

“Both of us,” Tyrese added, voice low, hand gripping your hip a little tighter. “Together. Same time.”

You didn’t say anything. Not with your mouth, anyway. But the way your breath caught and your thighs pressed together? That was enough.

Sure, you’d thought about it but to actually do it was almost insane to you. Tyrese was the love of your life, attraction to men seemed almost impossible when you all got together. Although, Anthony was always the exception. You bit your lip any time he did a new photoshoot, or posted a thirst trap. It was a fantasy that you never fed into. Tyrese wasn’t exactly vanilla but average man doesn’t take well to his woman desiring to be shared.

Anthony came up behind you while Tyrese kissed your neck. His voice was deeper, more commanding than you remembered. “Don’t run now. You gon’ take both of us like you was made for it.”

Tyrese lifted your dress without asking, fingers dipping and dragging into your core. “You wet already. That shit turn you on, huh?”

You nodded, dizzy, caught between both of them. Anthony’s hands were rougher, more impatient—gripping your ass, tugging your panties down like he needed you now.

“Come inside,” Tyrese whispered. “Before we fuck around and bend you over this damn patio table.”

You barely made it to the bedroom.

They didn’t waste time. Tyrese kissed you like he was making up for every moment he had to share you. Anthony kissed you like he hated the fact that he had to wait this long.

You ended up flat on your back, Tyrese between your legs, Anthony holding your face so you couldn’t look away from him.

“You look so fuckin’ pretty like this,” Anthony murmured. “You gon’ let us ruin you?”

Tyrese groaned from between your thighs. “She already lettin’ me. This pussy too good to share, bro.”

Anthony scoffed. “Then why you sharing?”

You moaned when Tyrese sucked your clit like he was trying to prove something. And he was. So was Anthony—pulling his sweats down, stroking himself while he watched you fall apart.

“You close already?” Anthony taunted. “He eatin’ it that good?”

Your only answer was a high, broken sound.

“She be fakin’ that shit with you?” he asked Tyrese, breathless.

Tyrese shook his head, voice muffled. “Nah, she real with it—my baby so sensitive.”

Anthony smirked. “Bet. Move.”

Tyrese gave him a look like he didn’t want to, but backed up anyway, kissing the inside of your thigh before sliding up next to you.

“You good?” he whispered in your ear, kissing your cheek. “You want this?”

You nodded so hard it made both of them laugh.

Anthony lined himself up slow. “Keep your eyes open.”

When he slid in, your whole body arched. Not just from the stretch, but from the way both their hands found your skin at the same time—one on your throat, one holding your knee open.

“That’s it,” Tyrese whispered, kissing your temple. “You takin’ him so good.”

Anthony cursed under his breath. “Tight as fuck, can’t wait to feel you cumming on me.”

“She is,” Tyrese murmured. “She be such a mess when she cums too,”

You let out a choked laugh, tears welling. “Y’all are so—”

“Shhh.” Anthony started thrusting deeper. “You talk too much.”

Tyrese moved behind you, rubbing slow circles on your clit with his fingers while Anthony fucked into you harder. You were nothing but moans and gasps now—caught in a rhythm you couldn’t escape even if you wanted to.

“Look at you,” Anthony muttered. “All that attitude, and now you dumb off dick.”

“She love this shit,” Tyrese said. “Been told me she wanted both of us a year ago.”

“You lyin’,” Anthony hissed.

“Ask her,” he said, grinning. Anthony leaned down, kissed your cheek, then your mouth. “That true, mama? You been wantin’ this?”

You nodded, panting. “Yes. Fuck—yes, please.”

He groaned deep in his chest. “Yeah, you been plotting on this dick.”

Tyrese bit your shoulder, laughing low. “She not goin’ nowhere after this.”

“You better not,” Anthony growled, gripping your waist. “You mine now. Ours.”

You came hard, shuddering between them. Tyrese caught your face in his hands while Anthony kept fucking you through it.

“Come on,” he whispered. “You can give us another one. Be good for us.”

Anthony grunted, close. “She ‘bout to make me nut up in this shit.”

“Do it,” Tyrese said, voice hoarse. “Fill her up, you gotta make up for lost time”

“Fuck,” you moaned, body going limp.

They both came for you—one after the other. Anthony first, rough and deep, hissing between his teeth like the feeling stole his breath. Tyrese kissed your lips while he came against your stomach, whispering how pretty you looked when you took it.

You lay there for a while, panting, sticky, ruined. One head on your chest. One arm slung across your thigh.

You were the quiet between two storms. The softness in the middle of something wild.

And the only thing louder than your heartbeat was the sound of Tyrese laughing, low and smug.

“Guess I was right about that poly shit huh”

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all444glo · 11 days ago

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i miss my man chile

#my actual boyfriend LMAOAOA #i miss ant too don’t worry

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all444glo · 12 days ago

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I’m crying at the Saniya rivers and Mabrey fic 😭 what is wrong with some of y’all!! Anyways I was having an awful week and part 3 of Next Lifetime really brightened my day. You’re truly my goat!

man listen i��ll write a lot i just won’t write that 😭😭 but im glad i brightened up your week trust i’ve had one myself!! writing makes me happy so im glad my writing makes u guys happy (if that makes sense lololol)

#pandorasbox ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

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all444glo · 12 days ago

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i need another chapter of the amen and ausar story😣😣 baby we are hungry for another chapter

here pooks!! i promise the series will get its happy ending soon!! 1 || 2 prev chps

#pandorasbox ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚#gloreqs!#ausar thompson #amen thompson

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all444glo · 14 days ago

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i kinda wanna change the theme of my blog LMAOAOAO i’m CRYINGG

#bluthoughts #orange next?#hmm summer vibez #i’m bored

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all444glo · 14 days ago

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the way my requests filled right back up after i cleared them. I LOVE MY LIFE and i I LOVE WRITING FOR YALL!!

#they like me #they really really like me!!#luv u guys

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all444glo · 15 days ago

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NEXT LIFETIME³

⚠️: jealousy, unresolved tension, emotionally loaded sibling dynamics, passive aggression, emotionally confusing friendships, angst, barely masked feelings,

1 | 2 prev chapters

🎞️|| you grew up across the street from the thompson twins—your built-in best friends. but childhood closeness doesn’t protect you from grown-up confusion. Ausar kissed you once and never talked about it, and Amen watched you fall in love with someone who looks just like him. All while being in love with you.

“Your energy feels so damn good to me.It picks me up, don't wanna come down. You got me spinning all around”

It had been a while since you’d been over to the twins’ house.

And not by accident.

You told yourself it was just a phase, a breather. Told them you were just busy with work, school, life. But the truth sat heavier than that. You were distancing yourself—on purpose. From both of them.

It had stopped feeling innocent. You started feeling like a barrier between them, the tension obviously thick.

It was easier, once upon a time. Easier when your thing with Ausar was just flirty banter and harmless late-night convos. He was magnetic, and he knew it. Always had something slick to say, always tried to get you to smile, to look at him a little too long. You played along because… well, you liked the attention. Who wouldn’t? It never went past that. And deep down, you knew why. Convenience always was a killer of young girls belief in love.

You used to think you were equally close to both of them. But when you really thought about it, it was always Amen who really felt like your best friend. Amen who you texted late at night when you couldn’t sleep. Amen who showed up when you didn’t ask, just because he knew you needed company without having to say it.

Of course Ausar did the same but as you got older the intentions behind it changed, it wasn’t brotherly love it was lust.

And when that realization finally hit—when it clicked that the feeling in your chest wasn’t friendship anymore—you panicked.

You stopped texting. Stopped calling. Made up excuses. Skipped game nights.

You didn’t want to be that girl. The one who ruined a whole friendship by catching feelings.

But Ausar noticed. Of course he did. He was a whore but he was a thoughtful one.

He called one night out the blue, voice already tight. Told you he felt like something was off. Like you were pulling away from Amen, and especially him, and that didn’t feel fair.

“I just feel left out,” he said, direct like always. “Like y’all got some whole other thing goin’ on that I’m not part of.”

You promised him that wasn’t true. Told him it wasn’t personal.

But it was.

It was personal as hell.

You didn’t know how to be around them both anymore without feeling horribly. Without letting something slip in a look, a laugh, a little too much silence where your body leaned toward the wrong twin.

So you stopped seeing either of them. You stopped going over to their place. Stopped replying. No big blow-up, no dramatic exit—just silence. A slow fade. You figured that was gentler. Cleaner. Let them cool off, maybe figure it out without you being the spark every time they flared up.

At least, that was the plan.

Until Amen pulled up to your house.

He couldn’t take the hint.

At first, it was texts. Just a “you good?” here and there. Then calls. Short ones. Late ones. He left a voicemail once—something quiet and irritated like he was trying not to sound like he cared too much: “You could at least tell me why. I ain’t do shit to you, you know that.”

You didn’t respond.

You couldn’t. Not without risking the same cycle.

But Amen didn’t do space well. And one night, he just… showed up.

You heard the knock. Not a knock, actually. Just the rattle of your front door handle like someone already knew you were home.

“Amen?” you called through the door, already annoyed.

“Open the damn door.”

You didn’t. “What do you want?”

“I want you to stop acting like I did something.”

You opened the door halfway, enough to see the irritation pinched between his brows. Hoodie on. Chain visible. That quiet frustration swimming in his eyes.

“You can't just pop up here.”

“You can just go ghost?” he shot back, brushing past you before you could stop him.

“Amen—seriously—what are you doing?”

He was already pacing in your living room, hands in his pockets, like he was searching for calm. “You really think that’s fair? That you get to vanish and I—we just gotta eat that?”

You leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “I didn’t vanish. I pulled back. For both of y’all.”

“You ain’t do it for both of us,” he muttered. “You did it for you and that would’ve been cool—if you actually told me.”

You looked away.

“I asked you if I did something wrong, and you said ‘no.’ You disappear out my life after 22 years, and I’m just supposed to respect that?”

“Yes,” you snapped. “You are.”

He scoffed. “I know why you stopped coming around. It’s not even about me, but I’m the one standing here while you treat me like I messed up.”

“You didn’t mess up,” you said, voice softening. “That’s the whole point. I just—I didn’t wanna keep being the reason you two go into it. I thought backing up would let you figure y’all shit out without me in the middle.”

Amen stared at you, face unreadable for a moment.

Then quietly, like he hated even asking, “So why you leaving made shit so much worse?”

You didn’t have an answer for that. Not one you could say out loud.

He never let you go, you wanted him to come, even ignoring his messages didn’t stop you from checking your phone every night. You just shook your head and turned away.

He stepped closer.

“You can give me the silent treatment all you want. I would’ve never told you about us arguing if I knew this would be your solution.”

“Ion want nothing else Y/N I just want you to stay.”

You swallowed hard.

“I didn’t think you’d keep trying.”

“Why the fuck wouldn’t I?”

It was a Friday—still light out but late enough to feel like the weekend—and you were halfway through a skincare routine when the knock hit your door.

You weren’t expecting anyone, but the second you peeked out the window and saw two familiar heads of hair and plastic bags in hand, your stomach dropped.

You opened the door slow, towel still wrapped around your head, face dewy and confused.

“What the hell…”

“We come bearing gifts,” Amen said coolly, PlayStation tucked under his arm, bags full of snacks in the other. “You’re not gonna make us stand out here, right?”

“I told him you’d be mad,” Ausar added, shouldering his way past you like he still had full access. “But somebody said you needed cheering up.”

You blinked at them.

Amen gave you that calm, unreadable look. Not quite smiling, but soft. “We miss you.”

You tried to hide the way your chest clenched at that.

Ausar was already flopped across your couch like it was his own. “If your floor’s dirty, I’m playing on the counter.”

You stood there for a second too long, towel slipping slightly, heart doing laps in your chest.

Amen stepped inside with quiet ease, brushing past you with a scent you knew too well. Fresh soap, something warm beneath it. Familiar and safe.

You didn’t stop him.

The air had been tense since the second controller passed to you. The banter was too sharp, Ausar’s ego too loud. Amen, as usual, had kept his mouth shut and his body close—sitting low on your bed with his arms stretched behind him like he wasn’t fully tuned in. But you knew better. You felt him watching you. Clocking every shift in your tone, every change in your body language.

You were mid-game when Ausar said it, again.

“You really gon’ pick his team every time, huh?”

You paused, not even blinking. “We winning, aren’t we?”

“That why you stopped coming around?” Ausar scoffed, sitting forward. “Y’all must have been practicing a lot without me?”

Amen sighed. “Man what…”

“No, let him talk,” you said, setting the controller down. “Clearly he got somethin’ to say.”

Ausar leaned back on his elbows. “I already said it. You ghosted both of us—but somehow Amen still ends up in your house. So what’s up with that?”

“I told you I needed distance.”

“You said it wasn’t personal.”

“And I didn’t lie,” you snapped.

Amen sat up straighter. “Y/N…”

“Nah, don’t stop her now,” Ausar cut in. “She’s finally being honest.”

“You want honesty?” you barked. “Okay. You played with me. That’s why I stopped coming around.”

Ausar’s mouth dropped open. “Played with you how?”

“You flirted with me for years, let the lines blur, and every time I got close, you reminded me that I was just the friend. You messed with my head.”

“Oh, so I’m a manipulator now?”

“Um yeah?,” you said flatly.

And then Amen spoke.

“She’s not wrong.”

You both turned.

Amen was leaned forward now, hands clasped, finally looking up like he couldn’t stand being silent anymore.

“You knew exactly what you were doing, Ausar. You just mad now 'cause she saw through it.”

Ausar blinked. “Wow. That’s crazy coming from you.”

Amen tilted his head. “What’s crazy?”

“You think you innocent?” Ausar barked. “Nigga you been playing the long game since jump—sittin’ quiet, bein’ her ‘safe space’, like that don’t count as manipulation too.”

Amen’s voice dropped. “I don’t do that shit cause I want her, that’s just want friends do? Do you hear yourself?”

You raised your eyebrows. “Amen…”

But Ausar was already on ten. “Nah, fuck that. You been in love with her, bro. Don’t even lie. You played the patient card hoping I’d fumble. And now what? You her savior?”

Amen stood up. “Patient card? Good God, do you even know what platonic means?”

Ausar scoffed. “You think she respects you? You’re just convenient You think she want you?”

“Ausar, shut the fuck up,” you said, stepping between them.

“Oh, but I’m the problem, right?” He pointed at you now. “You really sittin’ here acting holy like you wasn’t playing us both. Like you wasn’t eatin’ up the attention.”

You rolled your eyes. “Please. If I wanted both of y’all, I could’ve had both.”

“Wow,” he said. “What a way to be a slut as per usual Y/N”

“Say it again,” you warned.

He held your stare. “You’re. A. Slut.”

You were in his face now. “We’re bestfriends. If anybody know my body, it’s y’all. Be the same ones out here fuckin’ every girl in the world and then reporting back like it’s ESPN.”

Amen didn’t flinch. “Don’t bring me into that.”

You snapped toward him. “I didn’t say you. You think I don’t know the difference?”

Ausar raised his hands. “You choosing now, I’m just the bad guy?”

“I’m choosing me. Y’all been beefing and using me as ammo. Fuck that, if I’m coming between y’all, I don’t need to be here.”

“You never answered the question,” Ausar pressed, now petty as hell. “You want him?”

You turned your back on him. “Grow up.”

He laughed bitterly. “Cool. Take Amen home then.”

You’d seen them fight a thousand times over the years. Over toys, over basketball, over video games, over other girls, but you never thought it would be you.

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all444glo · 15 days ago

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Red candle work with sweet oil tension and the looking glass for Anthony edwards

here u go sweetie thank u for the request!!

#anthony edwards #gloreqs!#pandorasbox ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

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all444glo · 15 days ago

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i’m begging, on my hands and knees for a saniya rivers and marina mabrey fic 😩😩

A WHOS IT WHATS IT??

#ermm what the flip flop #vet x rook power dynamic is a lil—#love yall but no!!#pandorasbox ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

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all444glo · 16 days ago

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i stop posting for a couple days now yall hate me and want me to die

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all444glo · 16 days ago

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LOVE GALORE

🎞️: You love your girls a little too much for Anthonys liking….

⚠️: drunk!y/n, possessive behavior, toxic codependency, jealous/obsessive dom!anthony, heavy breeding kink, choking, slapping, name-calling, rough sex, degradation, praise,

You were drunk off bottomless mimosas, sprawled out across a cushioned lounge chair on a yacht that wasn’t yours, surrounded by girls that loved too loud and drank too much. Your denim strapless mini dress had ridden up just enough for you to forget to pull it back down, and your eyes were half-lidded from a mix of champagne, tequila, and the sun.

Bare feet danced across slick yacht floors, orange slices floating in half-finished glasses. Someone had rolled on the upper deck, and the air was thick with smoke and high-pitched laughter. It wasn’t brunch anymore—it was a party. And your crew were the main characters.

“Damn, you so cute,” you whispered into your bestfriends Leyah’s neck, giggling as your fingers slid through the ends of her hair. You kissed just under her ear and she squealed, blushing all up in your space like she wasn’t already boo’d up.

“I need Jacob to let up off you for one night,” you slurred, tucking her hair behind her ear just to do it.

She laughed, a hand brushing your thigh. “You better stop before they throw both our asses overboard.”

But you didn’t stop. The boat was rocking slow beneath you, the music was too loud, and your friends were hyping you from across the deck like you weren’t halfway in someone else’s relationship.

What you didn’t see—what you would’ve seen if you hadn’t been so wrapped up in the high of it all—was Anthony blowing your phone up.

Not just your phone.

Leyah’s. Mari’s. Kiki’s. Even the spam account you forgot he still had the login to.

He was watching every story, screen-recording your laugh, your glassy eyes, the way you kissed Leyah’s neck like you didn’t give a fuck.

And maybe you didn’t.

But he did.

Anthony was sitting at home damn near vibrating, phone in his lap, insecurity knotting itself in his chest. He wasn’t stupid. He already knew the excuses.

It was a joke. It wasn’t that serious. We always play like that.

And that was the shit that made his skin crawl.

By the time the sun started to dip and you were being dragged off the yacht, sunglasses crooked on your face and heels in your hand, your phone was dead and your voice was hoarse from laughing.

You were laid across Leyah’s backseat, head lolled to the side, still buzzing. The wind from the open window was drying the sweat on your skin, and every few seconds you’d sit up, then slump back down like your body was fighting sleep and want at the same time.

“Call Anthony,”you mumbled, eyes barely open. “I miss my nigga.”

“Girl, you ‘bout to see him right now,” Leyah said gently, glancing at you through the mirror.

“But I miss him,” you pouted, like you weren’t on the way to his house already. “Like bad.”

“Just relax—”

Before she could finish, your voice burst out again.

"Tell him I love him. Tell him I want him to beat my shit in. Tell him to warm up the dick."

Leyah sighed and finally put him on speaker.

It rang once.

“Don’t bring her up here,” Anthony said immediately, voice calm but sharp as a blade. “On your life, Ley. I’m not letting her in. Take her drunk ass home.”

You shot up like someone lit a fire under you. ”Anthony, if you don’t open that fuckin’ door, I swear to God—”

“Swear to who?!” he snapped through the phone. “You wasn’t missin’ me when you was kissin’ all on that weird bitch”

“Weird bitch?” Your jaw dropped ”Bro, get off the phone with that bullshit. You hang around a bunch of basketball players with weird-faced white wives. Don’t ever talk about my fuckin’ friends.”

“All them bitches weird. Kiki, Leyah, whoever the fuck. I told you I don’t want you kissing on nobody but me. And since you on her side tonight, go stay with her.”

“On your life, Anthony, if you don’t open that fuckin’ door, I swear you won’t have no fiancée.”

“What the fuck is you even mad for?” you cry, voice cracking, barely holding it together. “I just wanna go home and fuck you. Ain’t that what every nigga want? Damn.”

“You wasn’t worried about being my fiancée or fuckin’ on me when you was kissin’ all on that girl.”

“So I kissed my homegirl. I BEEN doing that! It wasn’t a problem when I kissed Kiki at our engagement party and you was recording!”

“Yes, it WAS a problem! I told you I don’t want you kissin’ on none of them bi—“

“You fucked me to the ground that night and we watched the video while we—”

“Don’t matter,” he spat. “Don’t bring that drunk shit in here. You stayin’ at Ley house tonight.”

Not even an hour later, the house alarm was blaring like it was screaming for help. You didn’t even flinch.

“ANTHONY,” you yelled, shoulder checking the door shut behind you like it had something to prove. “You got ten seconds before this Western Conference Finals trophy is on the fucking floor”

The echo of something crashing rang out seconds later—one of the glass picture frames by the entryway. You didn’t even look back at it.

He didn’t come downstairs.

“ANTHONY,” you barked again, kicking off your shoes as you stomped into the kitchen. “YOU HEAR ME TALKIN’ TO YOU?”

Still nothing.You knew he was home. You knew he heard everything.

You yanked the fridge open and glared inside like it owed you something. “Did this nigga eat my wings?” you muttered, spotting the empty foil container tossed like trash in the drawer. “Ain’t no fucking way—”

You slammed the door shut just as heavy footsteps thudded behind you. There he was, standing in the archway with that damn scowl on his face, arms crossed so tight his biceps popped through the sleeves of the tee you bought him.

“If I did eat 'em, what you gon do about it?” he asked calmly, jaw ticking.

You turned around slow, arms crossed to mirror him. “That’s problem number five hundred I got with you.”

He scoffed. “Oh, we counting now?”

“I been counting, Anthony,” you snapped, stepping toward him. “I got notes in my phone. Bullet points.”

“You embarrassing,” he said, not even flinching. “I swear to God, I hate the way you act sometimes.”

“You embarrass me, dumbass!” You pointed at the broken frame on the floor. “You got me out here arguing on speaker in somebody else’s backseat like I’m the crazy one, like you didn’t blow up three phones and talk to my my closest friends like a bitch.”

“'Cause I had to.” he barked. “You was all over that girl like you ain’t got no fuckin’ man. Tongue damn near down her throat.”

“Oh my God, we were playing! You so fuckin’ insecure, it’s pathetic.”

“I hate the way you act and the way you talk to me sometimes, I tell you the shit and you continue to do it! Learn to take some fuckin accountability!”

“You can’t even spell or pronounce accountability dumbass stay out my text books” You scrunched up your face at him.

He grabbed your face—not hard, but firm, eyes boring into you like he was trying to get through your skin. “Don’t try and make me feel fucking stupid.”

You didn’t blink. “Then stop acting like it. You know what it is between me and my girls.”

“Nah, fuck all that,” he snapped. “That’s not what it looked like. That’s not how you act when you claim you ‘miss’ me.”

You shoved his hand off your face. “Don’t do that.”

“I be goin’ out my fuckin’ mind over you, and you think it’s funny.”

That silenced you for a second. Just a second.

“…What?” you asked, quieter this time.

“You be doin’ shit on purpose,” he muttered, almost like he was talking to himself. “Like you wanna see how far I’ll go.”

You swallowed, heart thudding in your ears. “You think I like this? You think I like being in love with someone who lose his mind every time I breathe wrong?”

He laughed once, bitter. “Yeah. You do. You like the way I blow up your phone. You like when I get like this. When I lose it.”

“And you like that I always come back,” you shot back. “No matter how mad I get, no matter how many times you say you done, I always come back. That’s why you never scared to lose me.”

He stared at you like he wanted to say something cruel, but he knew better.

Instead, he just said, “You so fuckin’ loud.”

“You obsessed.”

“You mine,” he said, like it was a death sentence. “I don’t care what you do or where you go. I’m always gone be the first nigga you think about.”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Not when he was looking at you like that—jaw clenched, eyes blazing, every inch of him breathing that wild, fucked-up devotion you’d never admit you loved.

He stepped in again. You stepped back. The counter hit the backs of your thighs.

“You could leave at any time you know,” he said.

“So could you.”

He grinned all slow and mean.

“I could ruin you,” he whispered.

“You already did,” you breathed.

He didn’t kiss you this time. Not right away.

He reached behind you, flipped the light off.

“Turn around,” he said low, breath fanning your cheek.

The room shifted with the darkness—warm under the hood of night, hotter under his breath. You could hear the way he was breathing. Not ragged. Not rushed. Just controlled. Like a storm right before the sky cracked open.

“Turn around,” he said again, voice low and dangerous.

You didn’t move right away. Not because you were scared, (though you probably should’ve been), but because you liked the way he was looking at you. Like he was about to do something unspeakable and call it infatuation.

“Now,” he snapped, fingers digging into the edge of the counter behind you.

You turned. Slow. Deliberate. Eyes forward, fingers gripping the counter. You heard him exhale behind you. His sighs filled with frustration.

“You wearin’ that lil perfume I like?” he muttered, right behind your ear now. His hand brushed your hip—low, like a warning. “You do that shit on purpose too?”

You didn’t answer. You didn’t have to. He already knew.

A hard slap landed across your ass—once, not even full force—but it echoed like it carried all his frustration from the week. From the month. From the whole damn season.

“You gon’ act like a brat, then I’ma treat you like one,” he growled, pulling your pants down quick and rough, your panties going with them. “Put you back in your place.”

“Fuck you,” you hissed over your shoulder.

“Finna do that, baby,” he chuckled, breathless, grabbing the back of your neck and pushing your chest down to the counter.

You gasped—not from fear, but relief. This was how he loved. With his hands. With his mouth. With the ache in his voice when he said your name like it hurt.

“Look at you,” he muttered, dragging his fingers between your folds, wet and open for him. “You been talkin’ all that shit and you already fuckin’ soaked.”

“You bring it outta me,” you mumbled, forehead pressed to the cool marble.

“Yeah,” he said, thick with satisfaction. “I know I do.”

His belt came undone with a quick flick. He let it fall to the floor and kicked it aside. When he dragged the tip of his cock through your folds, you twitched. He leaned down, breath hot on your neck. “You wanna be fucked like a dog in heat, huh?”

You moaned. Didn’t even try to lie. He pressed in—slow at first, like he wanted to make sure you felt every inch. You bit down on your lip so hard it stung. “Keep runnin’ that mouth in public,” he groaned, thrusting deeper, “and I’ma remind you who the fuck you belong to. Every time.”

You cried out—low and broken—as his hips slammed into yours, rough and relentless. His hands clutched your waist like he was scared you’d disappear.

He was deeper than he’d ever been, the angle relentless, your thighs trembling as he took you with everything he had—his anger, his jealousy, his need to own you.

But beneath all that rage was something else. Love. Ruined, unpractical love. The kind that sounded like breaking glass but felt like home.

“Fuck—Ant—” your knees buckled, and he caught you with one strong arm across your chest, the other still gripping your hip tight enough to bruise.

He pulled out, turned you around, and lifted you up onto the counter like you were weightless. You nodded, tears slipping from the corners of your eyes as the stretch burned and bloomed all at once “Good girl,” he whispered, fucking into you deep now, his forehead resting against yours.

“Look at me,” he barked.

You could barely keep your eyes open, head lolling back against the cabinet behind you. Your whole body was shaking, slick with sweat and the mess he’d already made outta you. You didn’t even realize you were crying until he reached up and slapped your cheek—not hard, just enough to snap you back.

“I said look at me,” he growled again, gripping your jaw in one big hand and forcing your eyes back to his. “You wanna act crazy? Wanna play in my face? Cool. But I’m gon’ fuck the attitude out you first.”

“Then do it,” you snapped, voice raw from screaming and moaning.

“Oh, I’ma do it, alright,” he muttered, lining himself back up and pushing in slow, like he wanted to feel you break all over again. “Gon’ fuck this lil pussy until somebody understand me.”

You choked on a moan, grabbing at his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he hissed. “Actin’ like you ain’t gon’ fold the minute I give you this dick. You been tryna run shit all week, talkin’ slick, makin’ me look dumb. Now look at you—cryin’ on this dick.”

You slapped his chest, hard. “Because you don’t listen! You only hear your own fucking ego.”

“And you only listen when I’m balls deep in you,” he shot back, hips snapping into yours so hard you saw stars. “So that’s what the fuck I’m finna do.”

“Anthony—fuck—wait—”

“Nah. Don’t tell me to wait now,” he growled, fucking into you so deep you swore your lungs collapsed. “You wasn’t waitin’ when you was out there tryna make me jealous. Tongue out, touchin’ on hoes, laughin’ like that shit was cute.”

“It was cute,” you gasped, back arching when he hit your spot just right. “Bitch was prettier than you anyway—”

That did it.

His hand grabbed your neck like a leash, the other forcing your thighs open wider. “I should be mad,” he said, voice dropping an octave, “but I’m not. ‘Cause I’m finna nut in you so deep, you ain’t gon’ remember her fucking name.”

You tried to push up but he snatched you back into place. “I tell you to move?”

“Anthony—”

“I know what to do with it,” he spat, voice low and wild, slamming into you harder now. “Been knowin’. You think I don’t see how your lil smart ass act when you want my attention?”

“I don’t want—”

He grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked, forcing your head back. “Don’t lie to me.”

You whimpered.

“That’s what I thought,” he muttered, thrusts speeding up. “You wanted it? You got it. And now you not goin’ nowhere.”

“Say that shit again,” you whispered, barely audible.

He bent down, chest pressed to your back, voice damn near demonic in your ear:

“I said—you not goin’ nowhere. I’ma fuck a baby into you just to make sure.”

You whined. Loud. Shameful.

“Yeah, you like that?” he growled. “You ain’t gon be outside for a minute huh?”

You couldn’t even speak. Your fingers gripped the countertop so tight your knuckles hurt.

“I’m gon’ nut in this pussy,” he whispered, breath hot on your ear. “And you not takin’ a pill. You not gon’ go get no Plan B. You not gon’ leave me. You mine.”

“Anthony,” you sobbed. “I’m close—fuck—please.”

“Cum for me” he snapped, wrapping one hand around your throat as he buried himself even deeper, balls slapping against your skin. “You gon’ cum on this dick like you belong to me.”

“Fuckfuckfuck—”

“Say it.”

“I’m yours—always,” you cried, voice barely holding on.

“That’s right, Say it again while I nut in you.”

And he did.

Deep. Warm. Loud.

Groaning your name like it was the only word he knew, his hands gripping your waist like he was anchoring himself in you, hips still rolling slow as he filled you up.

“You feel that?” he panted, still inside, chest rising and falling. “See how perfect that shit fit?”

You could barely breathe. Couldn’t speak.

But you didn’t need to.

He reached down to rub your clit feeling the mix of both of you dripping out.

“Yeah,” he murmured, voice calmer now, but still rough. “You not goin’ nowhere after this.”

He kissed the back of your shoulder.

“Try that leaving shit,” he whispered. “I fuck around and put twins in you next time.”

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