Oliver x Engel x Abbie

The hallways of Paper School were never truly quiet. There was always the scratching of graphite against paper, the distant, terrifying sound of Miss Circle’s compass scraping against the floorboards, and the occasional muffled sob of a student who had failed their latest exam. However, in the secluded corner of the old equipment room, the sounds were different. There was a frantic, muffled grunting and the rustle of fabric against paper skin.

Abbie was currently living his worst nightmare, though his brain couldn't decide if he was terrified or simply overwhelmed. The shy boy, usually found hiding behind his bangs or clutching a white apple for comfort, was pinned firmly against the cold, hard floor. He couldn't move his arms, and his vision was obscured by something soft, heavy, and incredibly humiliating.

Oliver, the school’s notorious bully, was grinning like a maniac. His long, ankle-length white hair was draped over his shoulder, the red "A+" mark in his hair gleaming under the dim light bulb. He was leaning back, his weight centered firmly as he pressed his backside against Abbie’s face. Beside him, surprisingly, was Engel. The usually protective and kind-hearted boy had been roped into this particular brand of mischief, his own weight added to the pressure as they both sat perched atop the trembling Abbie.

"Mmph! Hnn-nngh!" Abbie’s muffled cries were barely audible, his small, slit-like pupils blown wide with shock. His face was buried between them, his cheeks flushing a deep, frantic red that matched the apple stem atop his head.

Oliver let out a mischievous cackle, tapping his pencil-arm against his knee. The graphite tip made a sharp clack sound. "Listen to him, Engel! He sounds like a squeaky toy. I told you this would be more fun than just stealing his lunch."

Engel shifted his weight, his black, clawed fingers digging slightly into the floor for balance. His two-toned feathers—blue and orange-red—quivered atop his head. Unlike Oliver, who looked like he was having the time of his life, Engel’s expression was a mix of hesitation and a strange, newfound thrill. He looked down over his shoulder at the trapped boy beneath them.

"Oliver, I don't know," Engel said, his voice softer but still carrying through the small room. "Do you think Abbie can actually breathe under there? He’s making some really weird noises. Are you sure he can handle all this?"

Oliver leaned back further, intentionally increasing the pressure on Abbie’s mouth and nose. He reached into his pocket with his right hand and pulled out a small, half-eaten bar of lemon-scented soap. He took a casual bite, the crunching sound echoing in the small space.

"Relax, feathers," Oliver mumbled through a mouthful of suds. "Abbie’s tougher than he looks. If he can survive Miss Circle’s math class, he can survive a little bit of us. Besides, if he can’t handle it, that just means we need to press down harder to make sure he stays put, right?"

Engel’s face turned a bright shade of pink, his white fur-like skin heating up. "Press... harder? Oliver, that’s—"

"That’s what?" Oliver teased, turning his head to wink at Engel. The bully’s eyes glittered with malice and playfulness. "Don't tell me you're getting soft now. You’re the one who said he needed to learn how to stand his ground. We’re just... helping him find his center of gravity."

Abbie’s world was a blur of black fabric and the scent of Oliver’s soap. He felt the immense weight of both boys pressing his head into the floorboards. Every time he tried to turn his head to catch a breath of air, Oliver would shift, pinning him back down with an arrogant laugh. Abbie’s heart was hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. He was embarrassed—mortified, even—but there was a strange, dizzying heat rising in his chest that he didn't understand.

"Please..." Abbie managed to gasp out, the word vibrating against the fabric of Oliver’s shorts. "Too... heavy..."

"Did you hear that?" Oliver laughed, his long ponytail swishing as he shook his head. "He said we’re too heavy. I think he’s insulting us, Engel. What do you think we should do about such a rude comment?"

Engel looked down at Abbie again. The shy boy’s eyes were watering, his face completely crimson. Engel felt a pang of guilt, but seeing Oliver’s confident, wicked smirk made his heart race in a way he wasn't used to. He felt a sudden, uncharacteristic surge of dominance.

"I think," Engel started, his voice cracking slightly before he steadied it, "that if he has enough air to complain, he has enough air to stay right where he is."

Oliver’s eyes widened in delight. "That’s the spirit! See, Abbie? Even your 'protector' thinks you need to be squashed a little more."

Oliver adjusted himself, arching his back and pushing down with his full weight. Engel followed suit, his black overalls stretching as he leaned back, ensuring Abbie was completely pinned under their combined mass. The pressure was immense. Abbie’s hands flailed weakly at his sides, his fingers scratching at the floorboards, but he was powerless against them.

"You look so cute when you're struggling, Abbie," Oliver teased, leaning his head back so he could look at the boy upside down. "All red and flustered. Are you enjoying this? Is this better than failing a test?"

Abbie couldn't answer. He was too busy trying to process the sensation of being completely dominated by the two most prominent boys in the school. The shame was there, thick and suffocating, but so was something else—a paralyzing sense of helplessness that made his legs feel weak.

Engel reached back, his sharp, four-fingered hand gently patting Abbie’s shoulder, though the gesture was more mocking than comforting given the circumstances. "Just stay still, Abbie. The more you move, the more Oliver is going to want to crush you. Just take it."

"He’s right, you know," Oliver added, taking another bite of his soap. "If you’re a good little apple and stay quiet, maybe we’ll let you up in an hour. Or maybe we’ll just stay here all day. I’m pretty comfortable, aren't you, Engel?"

Engel nodded, his face still flushed. "Yeah. It’s... actually pretty comfortable."

Abbie’s eyes rolled back slightly as a muffled, shaky moan escaped his lips. The heat in the room seemed to have tripled. He felt the weight of Oliver’s hips and Engel’s firm presence, the way they moved in sync to keep him trapped. It was terrifying, it was wrong, and it was the most attention anyone had ever paid him.

"Oh, look at that," Oliver whispered, his voice dropping to a low, conspiratorial tone. "He’s shaking. I think he’s finally realizing who’s in charge here."

Oliver leaned over to Engel, his white hair brushing against Engel’s shoulder. "I told you he’d like it, deep down. Everyone likes being put in their place eventually."

Engel looked at Oliver, then back at the struggling Abbie. He felt a strange bond forming in that moment—a shared secret in the dark corners of Paper School. He leaned back even harder, hearing the floorboards creak under the pressure of three bodies.

"Don't worry, Abbie," Engel whispered, his voice surprisingly firm. "We’ve got you. You aren't going anywhere."

Abbie’s vision began to swim with spots of black and white, his body finally going limp as he surrendered to the overwhelming weight above him. He was completely at their mercy, a small, trembling leaf crushed under the weight of two giants. And as Oliver’s laughter filled the small room, Abbie knew that his life at Paper School would never be the same again.