#I ain’t paying for shit that I won’t own

[high-sea-husbands]

“What? Are you seriously don’t pay for it, not watching legally? You should ALWAYS pay—

Actually what if you just shut up

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

House Calls.

Summary: Aaliyah has an elusive charm that can be alluring to some and frustrating to others. Professor Terry is compelled to have her. On one fateful evening at his college buddies bachelor party, he runs into Aaliyah. An interaction he hadn’t imagined would ever happen.

Warnings: SMUT, 18+ CONTENT, based off of Players Club, Nasty Talk, Professor!Student. ANGST.

Part three

1999:

Walking into a hair salon was an interesting experience. Pulling into an overly stuffed parking lot in futile anticipation of being in and out “in a decent time.” opening the salon door and walking into a room overflowing with peering eyes full of a mixture of both curiosity and judgment that covers you from your head to the bottom of your favorite shoes. Slinking down into chairs that go from stuffed and comfortable to hard as steel while waiting for the appointment that was due more than an hour ago. Out bursts of group laughter, “girllll, no she didn’t!” and “say what now?!” coupled with the familiar smell of hair sheen spray and neutralizing shampoo that seeps through the fog of sporadic steam that fills the air from the super-wattage, neck-burning hair dyers, steamers and marcel ‘top of your ear frying’ irons, reminds you that this is going to be long day.

Aaliyah Noelle Davenport sat in an unoccupied salon chair within a popular salon in Baton Rouge called Gina’s. Gina’s had been around for over ten years. The pages of her coloring book she was currently scribbling in with old crayons kept her busy so she wouldn’t go snooping around like last time. She burned her fingers touching a curling iron heater.

“He’s back home…coming to pick Aaliyah up in a few…”

Aaliyah’s mother, Rochelle, was currently doing a roller set on a client. She worked the rollers around thick strands of hair with her long, curved, golden nails. Rochelle was a hard working woman. She did hair and worked night shifts at a local motel to pay the bills. Anything to make up for Aaliyah’s father being in prison for six years.

She was the epitome of 90s fine: Rochelle embodied a beauty that was both timeless and undefinable, leaving a permanent imprint on anyone that crossed her path. Her unique blend of elegance, confidence, and charisma inspired and resonated with Aaliyah. That kind of fine isn’t just about looks — it’s about attitude, style, and an effortless grace.

“Make the money, don’t let it make you. Money can't make you anything…only your actions can make you something. Money can buy you things that make life easier but one thing it can’t buy is happiness…”

“Girl, stop acting like you ain’t happy he back home...”

One of her mother’s friends and fellow stylist, Donna, was flipping through one of many hair catalogs the shop owned.

“The less he know the better,” Rochelle added the final touches before she walked her client over to the hooded dryers, “It was one time, that’s it…”

“Rochelle, if you don’t calm your fucking nerves. He won’t ever find the fuck out if you don’t hush!”

“Okay, okay…shit–that’s him coming up right now. Aaliyah?”

“Mhm?” Aaliyah mumbled from her seat while coloring in a teddy bear.

“Your father is here…come on and get ya stuff. He’s gonna take you back to the house while I finish up. C’mon, little girl!”

Aaliyah frowned and pouted her lip while packing away her crayons and coloring book.

“Fix that face. You got homework to do…”

She climbed down from her seat and slipped her Barbie book bag over her shoulders. A candy painted Donk with shiny rims slowed to a stop outside of the salon and Aaliyah’s eyes lit up when she recognized her father’s low–cut ceasar with the deep waves. He shut his door and strolled over to the entrance of the salon with swagger.

Roland Davenport AKA Pressure. He was a smooth cat from Baton Rouge with a nefarious past and a deep love for his daughter. Aaliyah was his entire world.

“Is that my little girl! What’s up, Princess!”

He scooped up his six year old and spun her around. Aaliyah giggled joyfully while clinging onto her father’s crisp white tee. His skin was the deepest brown and blemish free. He flashed his pearly whites at her before giving her a kiss to the forehead. Roland put Aaliyah down and then he made his way over to Rochelle.

Aaliyah watched her parents hug each other affectionately. Their lips connected with a gluttonous passion. Roland’s hands roamed down to cuff Rochelle’s dump trunk and she squeezed his bulging biceps in return.

“Stop! Stop…I’m with a client…”

“How long ya gonna be, baby? I was thinking ‘bout taking my favorite girls out to eat.”

“Oh, yeah?” Rochelle grinned flirtatiously, “Where to?”

“It’s a surprise…”

Aaliyah’s parents talked for a few more minutes before her dad led her out of the salon hand in hand. She skipped along the way. Roland opened the back door and took her back pack so that she could buckle in.

“Daddy, I wanna sit up front.” Aaliyah protested with her sweet little voice, “Please?”

“Liyah. You can’t sit up here today. Maybe next time, okay?”

Aaliyah hung her head before fastening her seatbelt. Roland made his way to the drivers side and climbed in.

“How was school today?” Roland questioned, staring back at his daughter through the rear view mirror.

“Good.” Aaliyah flashed a grin with no two front teeth.

“That’s not what ya momma told me…”

Her smile disintegrated.

Aaliyah fiddled with her pleated, khaki uniform skirt. She avoided her father’s gaze, afraid he’d appear angry and she would be in big trouble.

“Look at me, Liyah…”

She did as she was told, staring up at her father.

“I’m not mad. You had every right to defend yourself. ‘Dem lil’ boys won’t mess with you again after what ya did…”

Aaliyah had been dealing with constant bullying from two little boys in her first grade class. They would pull her long plats, kick the back of her chair, call her names, and other cruel things that always resulted in her crying in the bathroom.

“Now if these lil’ niggas wanna have kids of their own someday, they better leave my daughter alone or I’m putting foot in ass…”

Roland made a silly face at Aaliyah and she couldn’t help but to smile and laugh.

“How ‘bout we make a pit stop to grab a snowball?”

“YAY!!!” Aaliyah cheered, her little arms up in the air like she’d just had a victory lap.

Roland cranked the radio, Sho Nuff by 8ball & MJG blasting through the speakers. Aaliyah could feel the seat beneath her vibrate. She watched her father rap the lyrics, a sudden gush of humid air flooding the car when he let the windows down. Roland extended his arm from the window to greet people he knew, the Chevrolet Impala Donk slow gliding through the hood.

They pulled up to a snowball stand that was situated next to a bowling alley and roller-skate rink. Rolland turned his music down before looking back at Aaliyah over the headrest of his seat.

“Which flavor?”

“Georgia Peach!”

“Aight, munchkin. I’ll be back…”

Roland climbed out of the car, shutting the door behind him. Aaliyah peered out of the open window, her eyes following her father’s retreating frame. What she hadn’t noticed, however, was the way an all black Escalade crept up, all four doors opening in unison.

Everything went in slow motion.

Repeated muzzle flashes sparked the air like it was the Fourth of July.

RAT–rat-rat-rat-rat!!!

Her scream pierced the air.

——

Those memories flooded Aaliyah’s mind that Wednesday morning. She’d woken up in good spirits, ready for her Ethics and Psychology class and a lunch date with a special someone. After showering, Aaliyah slipped on a pair of light grey leggings that molded into her hips, thighs, and booty. She paired it with a fitted, white T-shirt and low top Vans. Glasses on, messy hair pinned back with a claw clip, she threw on a denim jacket and collected her school bag near the front door.

Before she could even leave, a hard, booming knock on the storm door of her Shotgun House caused her forehead to wrinkle with surprise. She paused for a second before walking up to the door. Aaliyah brought one dark brown eye to the peephole.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Aaliyah flinched.

“Aaliyah! Open the door! I know you’re here!”

It was her junkie mother.

She didn’t look like herself.

Acne, dull skin, and self-inflicted wounds from picking at her face. Needle marks and collapsed veins from shooting up.

Rochelle was unrecognizable.

One look at her, and all the trauma from her youth flooded her mind. After her father was shot down, Rochelle went into a deep state of depression. She lost her job at the salon, and the pay checks from her motel job didn’t keep the bills paid. Rochelle had no choice but to seek help from a man. Any man that was willing. She sent Aaliyah away at the age of ten for a few years to live with her estranged grandmother, Ruby. Ruby was a strict, Christian woman with no tolerance for misbehavior or rebellion. She lived in a different Parrish in rural Louisiana, closer to Shelby Springs.

Aaliyah was made to do yard and farm work. She had Bible studies on weekends and couldn’t hang with many children because their parents weren’t ‘Godly Folk’. The only thing Aaliyah really enjoyed was horseback riding whenever her grandmother would visit a church friend. When Aaliyah was nearing fourteen, she started sneaking out to see an older boy. Word got around and Ruby lashed out on Aaliyah.

“I didn’t have sex with him! We were just kissing!”

Aaliyah wailed, hands raised to brace herself from her grandmother’s blows.

“You’re just like your mother! Can’t keep your legs closed! Don’t lie to me, Aaliyah! I know you slept with that boy!” Ruby shouted.

She couldn’t stay there any longer. Aaliyah called her mother that same night, begging her to come get her. Rochelle drove an hour out and when Ruby opened her door, Rochelle shoved past her mother.

“You put your hands on my child?! You evil bitch!”

Aaliyah watched from the top of the stairs with her packed bags. Rochelle and Ruby were in the middle of a screaming match.

“You asked for my help, remember?! She lives under my roof, she abides by my rules!” Ruby argued.

“But did I ask you to beat on my child?! Just the same ol’ shit with you! I can’t even rely on you to be there for my daughter—”

“OH! Now look who’s talking. You couldn’t even get your shit together after Roland died to be a mother. Which man is it now paying the bills, Rochelle?! Look at all this,” Ruby pointed to Rochelle’s jewelry and designer, “Don’t look like you struggling to me.”

Rochelle remained silent, scornful eyes glaring at Ruby.

“Aaliyah! Let’s go…”

She hadn’t seen her mother in almost four years. Rochelle looked…fancy.

“Sully is in the car…He drove me here…I missed you, Liyah…”

Ruby watched with folded arms. She locked eyes with Aaliyah, a look of guilt flashing across her face for just a second. They left without a backwards glance.

Aaliyah was very careful around Sully. He was a drug dealer, bringing home money and gifts to spoil Aaliyah. She became used to the revolving door of other criminals entering her home. She was just happy to with her mother again. Aaliyah focused on her studies and poured herself into cheerleading and hip hop majorette.

Eventually, things started to go downhill. Rochelle was introduced to harder drugs, Sully owed people money and he had gambling debts. Things in their home started to disappear, bills were piling up, and Sully turned violent. It took for Ruby and Aaliyah to fight back for Sully to finally leave. It opened the same wound of her father’s death, Rochelle unable to stay strong. Rochelle’s addiction became worse, so bad to the point that she would steal from her own daughter.

Aaliyah couldn’t handle it. As soon as she graduated high school, she got her own place and left her mother behind. It broke her heart, but in order for her to evolve, she needed to break free. Aaliyah hated working at Hooters, and when she turned twenty–six, she started stripping at Crazy Horse.

“Make the money, don’t let it make you…”

Aaliyah opened the front door, but the storm door remained locked. Aaliyah stared down at her mother. Rochelle looked desperate and more frail than the last time she showed up. She’d relapsed again.

“Hey, baby…”

Rochelle pressed her hands against the door.

“Can you help me? I need some cash—”

“I gave you five hundred dollars when I last saw you, momma. I see you back on that shit again…”

Rochelle hung her head in shame.

“I’m trying, Aaliyah. You don’t understand how hard it is.”

“You’ve tried for over twenty years now. I’m tired of helping you and all you do is use me. Weren’t you staying with Mama Ruby?”

She definitely wasn’t staying with Aaliyah.

“I can’t stay wit’ you?”

“Hell no.” Aaliyah quipped.

“I’m your fucking mother!”

“Did you forget what happened the last time you lived with me?! You stole shit from my house! I don’t trust you!”

Aaliyah didn’t need this. She had to go to school.

“Please…please, Li–Li. I’m hungry…I’m broke…pleaseeee…”

Aaliyah stared her mother down with a venomous glance. There will always be a soft spot for Rochelle, but the repeated hurt was exhausting. Seeing her mother like this broke her heart. She just couldn’t stop using.

“Okay…”

Aaliyah opened her storm door. Rochelle slipped inside quickly. Aaliyah kept a watchful eye on her mother while she admired Aaliyah’s cozy home.

“C’mon…”

They entered Aaliyah’s kitchen. Rochelle climbed onto a bar stool, peering around with a nervous look. Aaliyah opened her fridge, bringing out leftover catfish and grits she’d prepared last night for dinner.

“That piece right there…yeah…”

Aaliyah rolled her eyes.

She gave her mother the thickest piece of catfish and a good portion of cheesy grits. While the food heated, Aaliyah reclined her plush bottom against the counter. She stared her mother down, unable to shake the pain that fought to bubble to the surface.

“How’s school?” Rochelle questioned, unable to avoid picking at her skin.

Aaliyah tampered down her resentment and cleared her throat to speak.

“Good. I’ll be graduating in June.”

“That’s good, baby. Real good…June…How many tickets you gettin’?”

“Uhm,” Aaliyah checked on the catfish, “Not really sure yet.”

“Still dancing?”

Aaliyah rubbed her arms.

“No.”

The smell of the crispy fish wafted her mother’s nose. Aaliyah opened the oven to retrieve it. The grits on the stove top were nice and smooth now. After plating the food, Aaliyah wrapped it with aluminum foil and slid it across the kitchen island to her mother. She opened her pantry to grab a plastic fork and knife, securing it with some paper towels before holding it out towards her mother.

“I can’t sit here and eat?”

“You know you can’t…”

“Aaliyah—”

“Look, I have class. I’m gon’ miss it if you don’t take this shit and leave—”

“LOOK,” Rochelle stood, “I’m sorry you hate me so much. I’m sorry about all that shit, but I’m still your mother, Li–Li.”

“Oh? Last time I remember you being a mother was when I was six years old. Anything after that don’t count.” Aaliyah fired back.

Rochelle parted her cracked lips to speak, but her words stilled in her throat. Her tears flowed down her face and she wiped them away with the back of her dingy sleeve. Aaliyah stood before her with a rigid expression.

“Okay, I’ll leave…”

Rochelle grabbed her plate of food and Aaliyah stepped out of the way for her to walk in front of her. Tears prickled her eyes but she hastily pulled herself together. Aaliyah followed her mother towards the front door. She opened it, unable to reach her mother’s gaze.

“I love you, Li–Li…”

A solemn tear cascaded down Aaliyah’s face.

“…think you could look out for me?”

Aaliyah released a sigh before reaching into her bag. She plucked out whatever cash she had– one hundred and fifty dollars– handing it over to her mother.

Rochelle accepted it shamefully.

“Thank you, Li–Li. Take care of yourself…”

——

Professor Richmond carried his brown leather briefcase with him into the lecture hall. There were already students present the more he approached his desk in his brown dress shoes. His oceanic eyes swept the rows of students, his gaze zeroed into a vacant desk. Bringing his Apple Watch up, he was right on schedule. She would be arriving late today it seems.

Terry couldn’t go the remainder of his weekend into the early weekday without Aaliyah crossing his mind. She invaded and consumed him without her physical presence. He was two grand broker and overjoyed. He’d spend more on her in a millisecond. That shapely body is a walking sin. He found himself daydreaming of how it would feel to press his muscles into the softness of her curves. How would the curl of his biceps feel around her thighs? The ridges of his abdomen beneath her hands as she explored?

“I hope you all read up on Darwin and The Moral Sense. We’re jumping straight into discussion…”

Terry removed his navy blue suit jacket, then he rolled up the sleeves to his white, button down shirt that he wore tucked into matching navy blue slacks. He used a red Expo marker to write: Chapter Three of The Descent of Man. After capping the marker, he turned his attention to the class. With his pointer finger, he pushed his glasses back from the bridge of his nose.

“The keystone significance of morality in human distinctness is clearly asserted by Darwin in the first sentence…and the quote says….”

Terry snapped his fingers before pointing at a student within the second row with their hand raised. A white male with wooly, dark brown hair and a hooked nose.

“I fully subscribe to the judgment of those writers who maintain that of all the differences between man and the lower animals—”

“The moral sense of conscience is by far the most important, correct, James. But why is that?”

He cast his penetrating eyes across his students before flicking his gaze at the door. Another student bravely raised their hand and Terry motioned for them to speak. He continued to lecture shortly after that.

“We know from his notebooks that Darwin was reading the contemporary philosophical literature about moral behavior in 1837…”

As he continued, pacing in front of his desk, hands in the pockets of his slacks, the absence of Aaliyah weighed heavy on him. Minutes ticked away and soon enough, class was dismissed. Terry spoke with a student after class about the grade he’d given them for the midterm paper before packing away his things and leaving.

He made it back to his makeshift office space, shut the door and shuffled inside, careful not to knock his briefcase into stacks of decades old textbooks and files. With his thumb and pointer finger, he flicked on his table lamp, a yellow glow igniting the space. The swivel chair situated at his rectangular, wooden desk creaked slight as he settled down. Terry cracked his wrists, a habit of his when he felt too wound up.

iPhone in hand, he found Aaliyah’s contact.

“Here,” Terry handed Aaliyah his phone, “Put your number in.”

Aaliyah stared up at Terry through her curled lashes with a smile that enticed him into a further aroused state. She held out her small hand and made a come hither motion. Terry felt his phone slip from his fingertips and watched her with a sharp gaze and a slight smirk. She typed away, and he caught her eye before she saved it.

Terry texted her phone later that evening and Aaliyah replied with a kiss emoji.

Terry: Goodnight, Beautiful ❤️

Aaliyah: Nite Professor 😘

He texted her on Sunday, not saying much, just a simple greeting. He didn’t want to come off too strong, although he was fiendish for her attention.

Terry: Hi, Aaliyah. Hope you slept well ❤️ Any plans for today?

Aaliyah: Hi 😏 slept well thanks for asking. how was your sleep? & I’m currently out to brunch with friends.

Terry: You’re welcome. had a great rest. Brunch is fun. I’m sure you look great 😌

Aaliyah: I do 😉

Terry: SO BEAUTIFUL 😍

Aaliyah: Thank you ❤️ can’t wait to see you on Wednesday.

Terry: I’m looking forward to it ❤️

Terry sent Aaliyah a new text.

Terry: Hey, is everything okay?

It wasn’t like her to miss class. Terry unfastened the first few buttons of his shirt. He stood to stretch his sore legs from his workout earlier, easing his way over to the only window in his office. Terry looked out the window. The sky was tar-black and the large clouds seemed as if they were moving towards him. He heard a tapping on the window and then it became a pitter-patter. People ran for cover outside and umbrellas were opened as the clouds spat out their beads of water. Puddles began plinking as the rainfall became heavier. The roofs of the cars danced with spray and he could hear the murmuring of the rain through the window. It sounded like the buzzing of angry bees.

Buzz Buzz

Terry back tracked to his desk, reaching over and grabbing his phone.

Aaliyah: I’m sorry I missed class, Terry. Everything isn’t okay actually. I wasn’t feeling it. Can I call you?

Terry: Yes

He answered immediately.

Terry took a seat, “Hello?”

“Hi…”

Her voice sent chills down his spine.

Terry sensed her sadness.

“Want to talk about it?”

“…Can we still meet for lunch?”

“We can. It’s raining pretty bad out. Sure you’ll be okay driving?”

“I’ll be fine, I’m standing on my back porch right now…looks like it’s slowing down.”

“Okay. Uh…I was thinking Noir. It’s a nice jazz inspired restaurant and it’s a great vibe for cozy and intimate dining. Do you need me to pick you up?”

“No, that’s okay. I can meet you there. I know Noir.”

“Okay, drive safely, love.” Terry said.

“I will, you too. See you there.”

——

Noir didn’t have many patrons that afternoon, and Terry wasn’t complaining. He scooted himself into a booth, the dim light hanging above him so dull as if a shade had been cast upon it. His wet dress shoes squeaked slightly as he made himself comfortable. Terry ordered two filtered waters with lemon and hot water to soak the silverware. His legs swung back and forth beneath the booth table anxiously. Eyes that appeared turquoise glanced towards the entrance and he made out the silhouette of Aaliyah Davenport entering.

She must’ve gotten caught in the rain. She was dressed casually, a large Louis Vuitton tote bag over her right shoulder and a denim jacket flung over her left arm. She paused, eyes searching for Terry. He leaned further out of the booth and waved her down. Aaliyah fixed her gaze on him and a small smile graced her beautiful lips. Terry watched her saunter over, and the further she approached, the more her smile brightened.

Terry stood, fixing his pants since they had ridden up on his thighs and bulged around his crotch. Aaliyah slowed down to a stop before him, an awkward pause with nervous glances between them. Ultimately, Terry opened his arms and Aaliyah giggled before wrapping her arms around him. Terry caught a whiff of her hair; coconut and hibiscus. Mmm…he could feel the slight dampness of her curls through his dress shirt.

Her T-shirt beneath his fingertips was slightly wet from the rain droplets. Aaliyah broke away from him and gave him one last look before settling into the booth. Terry followed, situated across from her. He loved how natural and beautiful she looked. Her curls were slightly heat damaged at the ends, giving it personality. She wasn’t wearing her glasses today, Terry able to enjoy those pretty brown eyes again. Her hoop earrings swung as she swept hair from her eyes.

“I ordered us some water for now if that’s okay.” Terry mentioned.

“That’s ‘awrite with me, Professor.”

She has such a cute voice. Honeyed.

“I hope I didn’t miss anything crucial. I’m sorry.” Aaliyah apologized.

“Don’t be. We discussed chapter three…have you read it?”

“I have. No assignments?” Aaliyah replied.

“No—Aaliyah, what’s wrong?”

He didn’t care to talk about class. He wanted to know what was bothering her. She looked so saddened. It didn’t sit right with him.

“Uh…it’s a lot. I don’t wanna pour my shit out on you.”

“I’m willing to listen, if you’ll let me. No pressure…”

Aaliyah tilted her head and considered his words. Their water arrived and the waiter was ready to take their orders. Aaliyah hadn’t even looked over the menu.

“Give us another minute, please? Thanks…”

Aaliyah started flipping through the menu. The conical body of the saxophone in the background soothing.

Terry decided to order them an appetizer. Mini crab bites. He wasn’t too sure what to order for lunch.

“Do you like crab bites?” Terry asked.

“I do. That sounds good,” Aaliyah peered up at him with a timid smile, “I was thinking of getting a salmon ceasar salad.”

“Tasty,” Terry stroked his goatee, “I’ll probably do a shrimp Po’Boy.”

Their waiter circled back and Terry ordered everything. Alone again, they sipped their water and caught each other’s eye. Aaliyah pushed the wedge of lemon in her glass down further with her straw. She released a sigh before leaning against the table.

“My momma showed up today. Right when I was leaving for school.”

“Ya’ momma? I take it you’re not happy about that…”

Aaliyah’s eyes glistened. Terry wanted to reach out and stroke her soft cheek.

“My mom is a drug addict. Been an addict since I was sixteen.”

Terry allowed what she revealed to him to settle into his mind. He gave her a slow nod, and his eyes fixated on her deeper.

Aaliyah continued with a shaky voice, “After my father was killed, she became depressed and she blamed herself for the longest time. I was there when it happened…saw the whole thing,” Aaliyah rubbed her arms, “He hadn’t even been out of prison for a year and he was shot…”

Terry watched her straighten her back and sniffle, trying her best to calm herself down.

“My momma’s been in and out of rehab. I’ve help her, my grandmomma helped her…she stole from me, disappointed me every single time…” Aaliyah stared down at her hands, “And all she can think to do is show up on my doorstep with her hands out. That broke me.”

Terry twisted his full lips and his eyes fell to her hands. He watched the way her fingers fiddled. With an impulse so strong, he covered her hands with his much larger ones, stroking them with his thumbs. Aaliyah watched the way his hands worked to sooth her. Like he was massaging the stress out of her. Aaliyah exhaled, and then she locked eyes with Terry.

“I love her so much…”

“I know you do, I can see it…I can feel it.” Terry spoke softly.

He released her hands so she could thumb away a tear.

“I’m so sorry, Aaliyah. Sorry about your father. Sorry about your mom…”

“Thank you, Terry. I really appreciate it. I know this is supposed to be a nice lunch. I feel like I’m ruining it with my fuckin’ bullshit.”

“There’s nothing ruined, love. I’m happy you felt comfortable enough to open up to me about it. I just don’t like seeing you like this…your mom isn’t willing to get help?”

“That’s the thing,” Aaliyah took a sip of her water to help get rid of the lump in her throat, “She’s been in and out of rehab plenty of times. It’s this guy she keeps running back to. I don’t really remember his name…all I know is that he’s a dealer. She’s always had a thing for criminals.”

“Your grandmother, what’s up with that?—am I asking too many questions?”

“No, no,” Aaliyah shook her head, “My grandma is…her and my mom have always had a strained relationship. She’s attempted to help, but it never works out. There’s a lot of unresolved issues and my mom just can’t stick around long enough to deal wit’ it, ya know?”

“I get it. What was your father like?”

Aliyah frowned slightly, “He was so funny. Had so much swagger to ‘em. Loved cars. He got himself mixed up in some shit. He was doing a favor for a friend that turned out to be a robbery and it landed him in prison.”

She had this faraway look in her eyes, as if she were recalling the nostalgic feeling of being with her dad.

“…I saw him…die…and…” Aaliyah exhaled, “Took me a while to shake it…”

“Damn,” Terry hung his head, “Aaliyah, that’s heavy…”

Terry squeezed her hands and sought out her gaze. Aaliyah looked across at him and a single tear cascaded down her cheek. Terry released her hand and lifted from his seat, scooting in next to her. He snatched up a few napkins and dabbed her face gently.

“It’s okay…it’s okay, Aaliyah…so sorry…”

One hand rubbed her shoulder while she bawled up the used napkin in her hand. With one last sniffle, Aaliyah turned her brown eyes that reminded him of cognac through a glass and just then, she leaned in and those lips he’d desired to feel grazed his cheek with a feather–like touch before molding into his skin with a pressure so soothing his eyelash’s fluttered in satisfaction.

“Thanks for listening,” Aaliyah whispered in his ear.

Terry turned his head at an angle towards her. He gave her a searing, sideways glance.

“You’re welcome. Anytime…”

“Crab bites…”

Startled, Terry leaped up from his seat and returned to his side of the booth. Aaliyah thanked the waiter and they put in their orders. Terry and Aaliyah shared the appetizer. After chewing, Aaliyah licked her lips before speaking.

“Tell me a little more about Terry Richmond.”

Terry gave Aaliyah an attractive half–smirk. 

“Ask me and you shall receive.”

“Why teaching? Is that something you’ve always had a passion for?”

“That’s a really good question. Uh…yes. I was an instructor when I spent time in the Marines. I trained Marines for combat and firearms. Each day was new and exciting. I’ve always had this…desire to share knowledge, inspire others, and make a positive impact. Although my pops wanted me to continue into the Marines, I fell in love with Psychology. So…I got my PhD a year ago, and here I am.”

Aaliyah sat her face into her hands with her elbows propped up on the table, listening to him like he was retelling a fairytale story. Her eyes sparkled with joy at listening to him drone on about moving to North Carolina with his parents after Katrina, enlisted into the Marines, finished his undergrad, living there up until the age of twenty–seven before he moved back to Louisiana to attend LSU. Both of his parents are still together and living in North Carolina. Their food arrived and they tucked in, talking in between bites.

Terry was happy that Aaliyah is in better spirits. She smiled and giggled and it warmed his heart. She thanked him for cheering her up. Terry was honored. The topic veered to hobbies and interests. Aaliyah shared that she used to be a majorette dancer.

“Fishing? Living outdoors? Wow. I grew up doing farm work and riding horses but nothing that deep,” Aaliyah responded with a giggle.

“I can take you sometime…show you what it’s like.”

Terry cocked his head to the side and stared at Aaliyah. She held onto his gaze, the tip of her tongue peeking through her teeth. Terry wanted to wrap his full lips around her tongue and suck on it.

“So…is it a date then? Taking me fishing and camping, Professor?” Aaliyah teased.

“I’ll take you anywhere,” Terry slurped down some water.

“Anywhere?” Aaliyah dragged out with her cutesy voice and lips twinged with a sultry smile.

“Anywhere…anything for you.”

“I like the sound of that,” Aaliyah smiled, “You’ve earned the privilege to spoil me.”

They laughed in unison.

“How did I earn it, exactly?” Terry quirked a brow up and narrowed his eyes playfully.

“Giving me two thousand dollars cash was enough to let me know,” Aaliyah replied bluntly.

Terry chucked. He licked his lips, eyes scanning the space before he lowered his voice an octave, “You liked that, huh?”

“More than you’ll ever know…”

“Let me know, girl…”

Aaliyah tucked her chin and giggled.

“Let me know…” Terry persisted.

“I didn’t like it I love it. I’m a princess and I should be treated accordingly.”

Terry’s eyelids lowered slightly. He leaned in on his arms, eyes roaming her body before staring into her eyes again. He felt a sensation so deep within his ripped core. Something akin to butterflies. Aaliyah excited him. That mouth on her…he loved it.

“The minute I laid my eyes on you at that bachelor party…you were gettin’ all my money…”

“Good, that’s what I wanted,” Aaliyah nibbled on her straw with a teasing smile.

Terry licked his lips. He stared at her through his spectacles while his fingers drummed against the table slowly. Aaliyah sat her glass down and leaned back against the booth.

Staring.

They were practically eye–fucking each other.

Beneath that table, Aaliyah took it upon herself to run her pointed, left foot up Terry’s right leg. She did it achingly slow. It traveled up and up until she stopped with her foot propped up against his seat between his legs. Terry did one lazy sweep of his eyes over her foot and his teeth latched onto his bottom lip.

”Aaliyah…”

“Huh?”

Terry was going to lose it. Lose all his control. He was itching to walk her to the back of the restaurant, push her into a bathroom stall, and beat that fat pussy up with her chest against the door and his large hands keeping her pinned in place and stable on that dick.

“If I could tell you how beautiful you are…how gorgeous you are a million times I would. The moment I laid eyes on you at the beginning of the semester…I couldn’t ignore it. The feeling. I just knew that I had to have you…”

Aaliyah sat transfixed by his words. Lips slightly parted, eyes misty. He loved that look on her face. He wanted her to look at him like that in a kneeled position with his dick hanging in her face waiting to be tended to.

The thoughts in his mind…

“Wow,” Aaliyah chuckled breathlessly, “You want me that bad, huh? Wow…”

She acted as if a man never pined for her so deep like Terry. His unspoken energy even spoke volumes.

He. Needed. Aaliyah.

Professor or not.

“You don’t even know…”

“Mm,” Aaliyah shut her eyes and nibbled on her bottom lip. Her eyes opened slowly, “Terry…you gotta stop.”

They chuckled, Aaliyah’s thighs clenching beneath the table and Terry’s thighs swinging back and forth.

“Why stop?” Terry whispered.

Aaliyah kisses her teeth, “‘Cause…”

Her cute voice was enough to make the tip of his dick respond. He could feel himself leaking.

Thank God the waiter returned with the check. Terry paid the tab, and Aaliyah looked at him, not quite ready to go. Terry didn’t want to, but he had an evening course starting within the next hour or so and he needed to head back to campus.

Fuck that class. Look what’s in front of of you, nigga…

“You ready?” Terry questioned reluctantly.

——

They hadn’t even made it out of Noir for two seconds before it started again. They quickened their pace as the clouds began to gather in the sky. Up to now, the sky had been postcard-perfect, but it was changing. The beautiful cocktail-blue shade was beginning to darken into gravel-grey. Large pillows of clouds were forming, blotting out the old-gold colour of the sun.

Aaliyah got the first splatter of rain when she was halfway across the parking lot. She took shelter under her Jean jacket, hoping that she could see out past the shower. Terry’s brawny bicep pulled her closer while he covered himself with his own jacket. Droplets of moisture began to drip from the leaves. They were sprinkling onto the concrete like a gardener’s hose. Then the rainfall became more intense. A wall of rain moved over the oak trees and the drops were drumming against the tops of cars. So much rain was falling that the sound blurred into one long, whirring noise. It reminded her of the rotor blades on a helicopter.

Terry’s truck was closer. He rushed to fling the door opened, helping Aaliyah inside before sprinting to his side and climbing in. He slammed the door shut before tossing his drenched suit jacket onto the back seat. The humidity caused the car windows to fog as it poured. Eventually, the noise lessened and the drops faded into a musical chime. They sought out each other’s gaze and laughed.

Aaliyah threw her head back and sighed with contempt. This was a great lunch date. She was so happy she came. After bawling her eyes out about her mother, she needed some fun. Terry was more than just his looks. He was so refreshing. Such a gentleman. Hard working. So deeply fascinated with her. And it was more than just a lustful gaze. A gaze Aaliyah was more than used to. No. This man wanted her.

Aaliyah turned her cheek against the headrest to watch him. Terry felt her eyes and he gave her his undivided attention.

“I want to see you again, as soon as possible, Aaliyah.”

The urgency in his voice let her know he was a man about action.

“I’ll let you know what my days are looking like…okay?”

Terry hummed. The sound vibrated her core. He was impatient.

“Why not check on that now? Friday for an hour and thirty minute class ain’t enough.”

The bite in his voice sounded so much different from his professional tone. Aaliyah was stunned.

“Okay,” She pulled out her phone from her bag, “I have plans Saturday with friends…”

“Friday night?”

“Nothing.” Aaliyah replied.

“Then how about Friday? I’ll take you to dinner.”

“I have to study, Terry.” Aaliyah said, a playful glint in her eyes.

Aaliyah clocked the way Terry’s chest rose and fell with each deep breath. She imagined what he looked like beneath his business attire. Her imagining could only conjure up enough for her to fantasize about. She needed to see the real thing. Up close. Touch on him and memorize the planes and valleys of muscle threatening to bring the freak out of her. He looked like he could bench press and squat three times her size and Aaliyah wanted to test that theory. In many positions.

“I’ll help you study.”

“Isn’t that cheating?!” Aaliyah replied.

“It’s called tutoring, baby girl.”

Baby girl? Oh fucking hell…

Aaliyah became acutely aware of her nipples hardening. So did Terry. His eyes were glued to her breasts sitting up and jutted out.

Terry reached down beside him and his seat reclined back. Aaliyah’s heart skipped a beat. He gave her a pointed look. Aliyah’s eyes fell to his inviting lap…and a rather mountainous bulge…

It was as if the blood coursing through his body carried downward and pooled into his…

The veins in his arms…she could see them clearer now. His large hands resting against his thighs…that man spread…she felt a buzzing in her ears. The silent dominance in his posture…

Aaliyah lifted from her seat in a frenzy, Terry scooped her up with one powerful arm around her waistline and Aaliyah climbed over his lap. She sat herself snugly over his thick bulge that protruded from the crotch of his navy blue slacks like an eruption was waiting to happen. Her fat pussy sat on that protrusion and her breath hitched.

“Professor…”

Terry’s large hands double–cuffed her thick ass and he forced his grip upward, arching her back. Those thick, long fingers sank into the plump flesh as he groped her. One hand above her, pressed against the roof of the car, Aaliyah allowed the feeling of him squeezing and jiggling her cakes to consume her.

His glasses had fogged up. Their mingled, uneven breaths along with the sound of the leather seats filled the space between them. Aaliyah felt his hands smooth around to the junction between her thighs and booty and he applied force, making her ass move on its own—left cheek, right cheek— peering down over her shoulder while she was pressed against him. Aaliyah had her feet folded over his knees.

“Ughhh….”

A deep grunt followed by his arms wrapping around her waist tight. Biceps cutting into her back. The new position had Aaliyah sitting over his print harder. They sat like that for a few minutes, Terry’s nose was pressed against her neck, inhaling cool air and exhaling heated air that caused goosebumps to spread.

His arms loosened and Aaliyah tilted her head down to meet his eyes. She removed Terry’s glasses, resting them inside of his cup holder. The interior of his car smelled like blackberry clove and leather. He smelled like sandalwood. Those eyes. She got lost in them before tearing her gaze away to stare at his lips.

“Can I kiss you?” Terry asked softly.

Aaliyah closed the space between them and one of Terry’s hands tangled into her wet coils while his other hand sat above her ass. They gave each other an open–mouthed kiss filled with a feverish need for each other. Wet smacking noises sent signals of arousal. Eyes closed, heads swiveling, equally tasty and soft lips molding into each other’s. Aaliyah allowed her hands to run beneath his dress shirt and white better, coming into contact with warm skin stretched over an impressive physique.

“Unh…”

She found herself moaning.

A single finger of Terry’s traced the waistline of her leggings. The sensation caused her body to shiver. Aaliyah sat up, leaning back against his steering wheel. Terry locked eyes with her while his fingers brushed from her waist down to her pussy. The heat radiating from there could have added to the fog on the windows .

“You deserve so much…you’re so fuckin’ sexy…”

Aaliyah adjusted herself to tilt her body against his so that Terry could put his hand down her leggings.

“Damn…it’s like that, baby?”

“Uh-huh…”

Terry’s hand cupped her fat pussy through her thong. Aaliyah clung to his shoulders while holding his gaze. Terry’s tongue—thick and pink—poked out and Aaliyah accepted the invitation of touching tongues with him. His fingers moved her panties to the side. He grunted into Aaliyah’s mouth.

“Damn…damn…”

His fingers rubbed up and down. Aaliyah spread her thighs further.

“There you go…nasty girl… spreading your legs like that…want me to touch all over this pussy…I like that…”

His words. She whimpered when his fingers started doing that up and down motion between her swollen labia and over her stiff clit. Aaliyah couldn’t believe how wet her pussy is. Creamy viscous spread all over her.

“Unh…Terry…”

“This what you think about? You think about me expressing how much I want you with my fingers in your pussy?…”

Two fingers sank deep. Aaliyah’s mouth dropped open. Terry’s brows furrowed and his eyes would flicker from her face to his hand moving up and down in her leggings.

“Aaliyah…this lil’ pussy tight, girl…I can’t believe I’m fingering you right now…”

He looked like he couldn’t believe it. Jade eyes intense.

“It’s s–s–so, wet…”

His words stuttered out in disbelief.

“My pussy like you just as much as I do, Professor…”

Aaliyah chewed on her bottom lip and her head lulled back. She started bouncing on his fingers. Damn, she missed this. She missed being fingered the proper way. She ain’t have dick in almost a year. The last man to have her was a mistake and not even worth mentioning. All she could focus on was keeping her legs spread and that pussy open.

“Good girl…you follow directions well…I like that,” Terry dragged his teeth along his bottom lip, “Look at me, Aaliyah…”

She did as she was told.

“I played your little game. Now what?”

He was toying with her.

This man…this was another side to him she was more than excited to see.

“Now you make me cum…make me cum, Professor.”

Terry chuckled, “Make this pussy cum?”

His fingers were knuckle deep.

“Send me home in a puddle, Terry…”

“Mmm…that sweet, little voice gon’ get you in trouble…keep moaning…uh-huh…mhmmmm…”

Aaliyah clamped down on his fingers. She lowered her head over his headrest and rode out her orgasm. So intense. It hit her like a freight train. Terry pressed deeper, stroking a spot that had Aaliyah crying. Terry gently withdrew his fingers. Aaliyah’s breaths slowed down, but her body was still recovering from the after shocks.

His hand resurfaced just as the sun peered over the storm clouds. The aroma of her pussy and the cum clinging to his fingers flooded her nose in the best way. Terry held his manicured fingers up. Aaliyah locked her gaze on creamy–white goodness all over his fingers and dripping down to his wrist.

Terry played with it. Rubbing his fingertips together. Spreading his fingers to see how slimy it looked. Aaliyah watched him suck each finger while his eyes never left her face.

“I taste good?” Aaliyah asked with a smile.

“Fuckin’ amazing, baby…”

Terry licked his lips and Aaliyah leaned in to steal a kiss. They kissed for some time before Terry broke away. He released a growl of frustration.

“I gotta head back to campus…I have an exam for my next class…”

Aaliyah pecked his lips before climbing off his lap and into her seat. Terry had his lip pouted while fixing himself. Aaliyah giggled, her eyes dropping down to his neglected erection. He caught her watching, grabbing her wrist and sitting her hand over his bulge.

It…was…thick…

“It’s so big…”

Aaliyah explored, squeezing and stroking…Terry swiped his bottom lip with his tongue and closed his eyes for a second to gather himself. Aaliyah removed her hand and Terry looked over at her like he didn’t want her to stop. Ever. She didn’t want to go, but Terry needed to get back to Campus. The last thing she’d ever want to do is sabotage his career.

“I don’t want to leave, but it’s okay…I’ll see you Friday, right?” Terry questioned, grabbing Aaliyah’s hand and kissing the back of it over and over.

“Yes. I’ll be there…”

Terry made a come hither motion and Aaliyah obeyed, slipping him some final tongue before they parted ways. Terry put his glasses back on, giving Aaliyah one final look of longing. She knew she had to be the one to leave him behind because if she didn’t, he would have skipped the class and spent the rest of the day proving to her just how much he needed her.

“Bye, Professor.”

Aaliyah opened the car door. She hopped down from his truck, grabbing her jean jacket. She blew Terry a kiss before shutting his door and heading towards her Jeep.

She couldn’t stop thinking about the taste of her pussy on his tongue and her scent on his fingers while he lectured.

——

Aaliyah 🌹: Studying for an exam tomorrow. I’ll talk to you later, okay? I had a really great time today 😏 just might touch myself thinking about it. Sweet Dreams, Professor. Xoxoxo 👄

Terry moved towards his living room, an NBA game on in the background. He was shirtless with black joggers on and a durag over his short curls. A single gold cross chain sat in the middle of his pecs. The heels of his socked feet sat into the throw rug beneath him. He had grilled salmon, broccoli, and dirty rice for dinner.

Aaliyah.

That woman awakened something primal in him. Although his eyes bounced back and forth across the screen, his mind wandered to the way his taste buds craved more pussy. He had such a good time getting to know her. The way her lips felt like the softest cushion against his lips. The soft, little whimpers she made drove him crazy. He dragged a hand down his face.

He studiously ignored the monster in his joggers.

Could’ve been full of something else if you had just taken what was in front of you.

The game did nothing to calm down his body. He flipped through the channels looking for something, anything to distract himself from the length of his dick pulsing against his thigh. Terry shifted his hips on the couch, the fight to ignore it impossible.

“Send me home in a puddle, Terry.”

Terry could still hardly believe that he had Aaliyah in his lap, lips against hers, fingers deep in her pussy, and in public. The morbid excitement from earlier returned to him in tenfold, echoing in the throb of his manhood. He stared forward at the movements on his television unseeingly, fighting his mind as it tried to conjure up an image of himself between Aaliyah’s legs. Her pretty pussy gleaming at him naughtily making his mouth water. He wanted to be the only one to taste her for as long as he lived. To bury his face in between her buttery–smooth thighs to kiss, lick and tongue fuck her until she was a whimpering, quivering mess. His name a constant chant on her lips as she feebly tried to push him away after her orgasm. He wouldn’t stop. Not until all she wanted was him.

“Terry…Terry…right there, Terry…”

“Shit,” he grunted as he lifted his hips off the couch slightly, pulling his joggers down to his thighs, his engorged dick springing free, curving up to look at him. The purpling head waved in the air at him in greeting and invitation. Terry scrubbed a hand over his face at the sight, exasperated at his excitement for a girl he’d never seen naked and his inability to turn this shit off. Sleep wasn’t going to come easily to him if he didn’t take care of big boy first.

Terry’s eyes tracked a drop of precum as it dribbled over his head and down his pulsating shaft, collecting at his heavy balls. His dick was quite literally demanding attention, the veins overly pronoucned along the sides beating in time with his heart, and he was hard pressed not to give in. He hadn’t touched himself in a few days, work had kept him busy and the thoughts of Aaliyah after the bachelor party had given him a reason to. He quickly contemplated walking back to his room and using his fleshlight to get the job done before he decided against it. He was too needy to move now.

Tentative fingers ran over the velvety tip, collecting the beads of moisture there and spreading them around slowly. He closed his blue–gray eyes and pushed his head back into the sofa cushion with a flex of his hips. A harsh ‘fuck’ escaped his clenched teeth at the sensitivity. This was going to be quick, rough and lacking any of the finesse he usually showcased in any moment of sexual gratification. Even if that moment was just with him.

Terry’s dominant hand wrapped lightly around himself, trying to mimic how his Aaliyah would touch him, his other dragging over his exposed abdomen. His hand pulled down roughly, electing a low groan from him, as a fantasy bloomed in his mind. He could see her behind his lids that had fallen closed. Kneeling in front of him, between his parted thighs, bright eyes glued to his expression as she bit her lip in concentration. Watching him with that sassy look she got any time she wanted things her way.

Terry spread his knees as far as his joggers would allow, his hand twisting and pulling himself, gaining momentum with every tight pass of the head. Thumb coming up to swiped over the moist slit. Half curses spewed out of him as his pace quickens, his free hand coming down to fondle his sack. Rolling it between his fingers. The sensation doing nothing to abate his impending release.

“Fuccccckkk…..” his voice hitched and raised, battling with the enthusiastic wet sounds of his hand pumping.

His fantasy girl looked between him and his twitching dick, her hand moving as fast as he was. She licked her parted lips and leaned towards his thick pipe. Her warm breath only heightened his pleasure as she whispered to him lowly.

“Cum for me, Professor…”

And he did just that. His heels dug into the plush rug beneath him, using it for leverage as he fucked up into his hand, the coil in his belly growing tighter until it snapped. A croak of Aaliyah’s name bouncing off his walls. Thick spurts of warm cum landing haphazardly across his upper body didn’t deter him as he continued to drag his fist over his oozing dick until the motion became too much for his overly sensitive body. Legs shuddering with each pass.

Terry let go with a deep sigh, taut body relaxing slowly until he was sitting naturally in his seat. Terry glanced down at the evidence of his ecstasy littered across his chest, stomach and hand.

He huffed an annoyed laugh at how quickly his orgasm had taken him. And how hard his dick still was as it bobbed in front of him, his stamina was working against him this time around. With a disbelieving shake of his head, he gripped the base, pulling his hand with a slow rotation of his wrist upwards. His release making the perfect slick for round two.

“F–fuuck, babyyy…” Terry hissed at the feeling. He let go, palming the head a few seconds to stave off the mounting pressure. He would not come that quickly again.

Terry took his time, languidly pulling at his dick, unrushed. Rubbing his free hand up and down his stomach, tweaking his nipple quickly before sliding back down. He repeated this process as his hand gradually picked up speed.

The short nails on Terry’s left hand bit deliciously into his skin as he raked them down his chest and stomach. The sharp pain was closely followed by a wave of hazy pleasure causing his hips to buck faster into his hand. He abandoned all notion of slow, the tightening in his balls and urge to reach completion pushing fast and hard to the forefront of his mind. The juxtaposition of two intense sensations never failed to throw him over the edge.

Terry threw his head back, neck straining as he clenched his jaw. A constant string of yes, fuck, yes screaming in his head as his abdominal muscles flexed and clenched. His hand is almost a blur with how quickly he’s moving.

Twist

Grip

Plunge

Slap

Squeeze

Fucking Aaliyah did this to him. Those eyes, that smile, her voice, that goddamn body…

Flashes of her twerking in a split, making that ass clap, looking back at it, licking her lips with that tongue ring, talking her shit, how sweet her pussy tasted, how snug her walls were around his fingers.

He wished it was her. Her delicate hand working him. Her brown eyes drooping with arousal. Her heavenly voice encouraging him to go ahead. Let go. He could almost smell her. Almost taste her.

Her pussy was so fucking sweet. He couldn’t wait to suck on her pussy. He wanted to bury his nose into it and draw in a deep breath that almost burned his lungs. He wanted to make her unravel beneath his tortuous tongue and lips. Over and over and over—

He erupted at the thought, breathing hard and keening through his messy release. The second nut even more than the first. Still, he continued to stroke, torturing himself, milking himself like he wanted her to.

Terry was out of breath by the end of it. Body spent and tingling.

So much for not cumming quickly.

He sat there for a long time, waiting for the hollow feeling to retreat from his bones, his cum cooling on his skin. He needed to take another shower.

But what he really needed was her.

Friday couldn’t come fast enough.

@theereina @bombshellbre95 @planetblaque @trippyscotch @megamindsecretlair @uzumaki-rebellion @thesweetestdrug @theblulife @hotgrlcece @blackerthings @deja-r @helloncrocs @hearteyes-for-killmonger @kaylabuggggg06 @skyesthebomb @blyffe @gwenda-fav @beenathembo @blackpinup22 @novaniskye @melaninhawtie @urfavblackbimbo @avoidthings @rose-bliss @xo-goldengirl @kinginwithbreezy-blog @mysecertdiaryofableedingheart @sirenmouths @creartivefairy @soulfulbeauty19 @therealmrsrhodes @hrlzy @nayaesworld @gg-trini @brattyfics @flydotty @writingsbytee @shiania @browngirldominion @notapradagurl7 @madamzola @kismet83 @aristasworld @sl33p-deprived-princess @erynnnn @itssbrie @melaninangel @withoutmusiclifewouldbflat @sweettea-and-honeybutter @dashhoney25

[peachdues]

COMPASS — TEASER

Bad boy!Sanemi x Reader • Gang AU

A/N: was this supposed to be limited to a “bad boy Sanemi takes your virginity” prompt? Yes. But y’all should know by now I don’t know how to control myself. And I’m going to a show tonight so I figured I’d feed y’all before I left.

Legit hyped for this one because gang member Sanemi is 🤤

Before anyone asks, yes this will end up being a multi-part fic. I don’t wanna hear a THING.

CW: Sanemi being a huge fucking flirt • this fic will be HELLA nsfw so MDNI • like super fucking explicit lmao • Reader runs a bookstore

You’re in the process of double checking delivery logs to ensure all your new inventory has arrived when a large thud against the clerk’s counter startles you.

It’s him again — all ivory hair and silvery facial scars that somehow are less imposing than the irritated sneer he wears.

“This book was shit,” he scoots the novel across the counter to you with distaste. “I want a refund.”

You level his pout with a frosty glare of your own. Wordlessly, you lean over the counter and tap a single finger against a laminated sign duck-taped to its edge.

Return-exchange only. No refunds.

“But it was shit,” he repeats, as though that will somehow spur you to change a policy you didn’t create. “You let me waste twenty bucks.”

“I did nothing,” you rustle the pages of your delivery log in pointed dismissal. “You’re the one who decided to buy a book before checking it out.”

You glance down at the discarded novel. “Figures,” you scoff. “He’s not even an author. He uses ghost writers and takes all the credit.”

“Woulda been nice if you’d told me that before you let me give him my money.”

You hum idly as you cross off the log’s boxes for new releases. “I suppose I was too stunned that you even knew how to read. Guess I wasn’t really paying attention to your shit choices.”

“Oh?” And you glance up to see Sanemi smirking at you. “The Princess has claws, does she?” He leans against the counter, propping his cheek under a loose fist. “So, what are your recommendations, gorgeous?”

“I’m not your Princess,” you snap imbuing the nickname with as much venom as you can muster. “Call me by my name or call me nothing at all.”

His eyes drop to your name-tag, pinned neatly on the front of your sweater. That insufferable smirk of his only widens. “Alright, alright. What are your recommendations, Y/N?”

The syllables sound rich and honeyed and suddenly, you wish you’d let him stick with Princess, grating as it was.

Because your name should not sound so sweet, should not roll off his tongue so seamlessly, as it just did.

You’ve never been one to indulge in rumors. But in this city, as economically fractured as it is, gossip is a currency everyone keeps in their back pocket. And though you keep your head down and mind your own business, even you have heard the rumors swirling around town about the eldest Shinazugawa child.

Rumors that he has ascended the ranks of the same Mob that claimed the life of his deadbeat father long before the bastard was shived in the back for a debt he’d owed (their words, never yours).

Rumors that he holds a unique position within the gang, known clandestinely only as the Corps, and that position requires him to do things most won’t speak about.

But the rumor that screeches to the forefront of your mind has nothing to do with his alleged status with the Corps. It’s his reputation as a flirt; a rumored womanizer, through and through, that is a splinter under your skin.

Determined to pick him out, a wicked idea blossoms. “Fine, here.” You stalk purposefully to the section marked Literature. Your finger drags down a line of titles before finally settling on one. You pull it free with a soft grunt, the book sitting thick and heavy in your hand as you dump it into Sanemi’s.

“Read that.”

His eyes flick between its cover and you, incredulous. “This ain’t a book; it’s a brick.”

“It’s a classic,” you counter. “One that examines age-old question of destiny versus free will, generational curses.” Your head cocks to the side, a challenging smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth. “Love and lust.”

His eyebrow raises and you cross your fingers. If he falls for it and ultimately ends up hating the book, then perhaps he’ll decide your taste in reading material is indeed shit, and maybe then he’ll leave you alone.

Sanemi considers you for a moment but then he takes the bait. “If you say so,” he sighs. “But if it’s shit, I’m taking my refund.” And then he leans in close, so close that you can feel the warmth radiating off his body.

His breath is hot against your ear. “Regardless of your shitty little policy.”

You refuse to let him see how much he’s knocked you off-kilter. “So I can expect to be robbed? Will it be at gun or knifepoint? Just so I’m prepared.”

His chuckle, low and dark sends goosebumps skittering down your arms. “Worse,” he promises before he draws back. His grin is wolfish, all teeth and feral hunger. “You’ll owe me a date.”

He looses a low, appreciative whistle as he steps back and rakes his eyes over your rigid form. “Though, I might just take you out anyway.”

“You assume I’ll say yes — or are you planning on kidnapping me? I’m sure you’re rather proficient at it, given your occupation.”

Something dark flashes across his face, and it’s enough to make you step back, a sudden fear creeping up the back of your spine.

Stupid, you chastise yourself. You never know when to keep your mouth shut.

But the shadows in his features recede as quickly as they appeared, and Sanemi’s mouth eases back into that same, cocky smile.

“You’ll say yes, Princess. You won’t be able to resist the temptation.”

“Temptation?” You force out a laugh. “And what makes you think I can’t?”

Sanemi’s eyes find your current read, open flipped over on the counter, marking your current page.

It’s a mystery novel. Your third of the month, born of a new hyperfixation on the genre.

You want nothing more than to wipe that smug grin of his clean from his face. He gives an affectionate shake of his head as he turns and makes his way toward the door. “Habits, Y/N. It all comes down to habits.”

You should throw it at his head, but Sanemi exits the store before your hand can find its spine.

[restinslices]

ALRIGHT ENOUGH SWEETNESS. LIN KUEI BOYS FIRST TIME FUCKING THEIR PARTNER 🎤 (please)

Omg y’all, my brain let me write again😃

I don’t feel like looking for gifs and my storage space is in hell so I ain’t got photos. Sorry twin

Bi-Han

I know I start his parts off with “the haters will tell you” a lot 

IDC. Imma do it again 

The haters will tell you he won't care and he'll do his own speed and yadyadya. No. 

He's an asshole but be fr y'all 

I'm gonna write this as you're both experienced but it's your first time together. If that's not what you meant then lmk but until then-

You're both experienced but he's still careful 

He's the type to pick up speed fast but he's not immediately gonna be aggressive 

You're experienced but not with each other so he's gonna actively try to be slower and softer 

Very observant towards your needs and adapts quickly 

I think he’s observant in general so I think he’d easily notice how you react to certain things 

More of an action guy 

What I mean is he won’t verbally say a lot. Like you know how some people will ask “does this feel good?”? (That looks ugly as fuck-) He won’t 

He won’t because he’s paying attention to how you react and what gets the best reaction. He doesn’t need to say much 

He’s not completely silent but I don’t think he says much in general, so the first time would especially be quiet because he’s focusing 

Do I think he’s rough during sex? Yes. For the first time though? Probably not. He still feeling shit out

When it comes to making him feel good, he makes sure to let you know. He’d never be the type to lie about nutting. That’s just not him. He’s gonna make sure you do it right 

Very handsy 

He’s vocal when it comes to grunting and I think he’d go out of his way to make noise in your ear if it was something you enjoyed 

Pays attention to both your needs 

I could see him wanting to go a couple rounds before stopping 

Leaves tons of marks as a reminder of what happened 

Now that you’ve started now, don’t be surprised when he wants to do it consistently 

Kuai Liang

Mostly pays attention to what you need 

I think he’s way more verbal than Bi-Han so he’d actually verbally ask what feels good and what doesn’t 

He goes slow

Lots of emphasis on foreplay and trying to set the mood 

His lips are everywhere 

Like legit, every part of you has felt his lips or tongue 

I get it, you may think he’s very fast and intense because fire but no

Fire can also symbolize passion and Kuai Liang is a very passionate lover 

Considering it’s the first time, there’s no need to rush

The type to always be pleasing you. Even if you’re talking or making small comments, his fingers are still gonna be working on you 

When it comes to fucking he’s not doing it fast but how hard he’s going makes up for it 

Will go faster if you ask

Is also leaving marks 

Does frequent check ins to make sure everything is ok

He’s a big dude (in the sense he’s swole as fuck) so he’d probably prefer for you to be on top so he won’t crush you 

If I said he pulls on hair will I be booed or cheered?

If you’re bald then ignore that

Offers to give head. Doesn’t matter if you’re laying down or sitting on his face. He’s leaving here with smth-

The ratio when it comes to orgasming is off as fuck because he’s the type to pull out and start eating you out 

Extra points if it’s after you came 

He’s pulling out all the stops. You’re not going anywhere after this

Doesn’t particularly care how many rounds you go for

Main focus is on how many times you cum. There’s some people that try to be sweet and “I didn’t cum but if you’re tired then-“ don’t piss him off 

You’re either stopping because you’re tired or you’re shaking (or you wanting to stop but that’s not a saucy ending)

Tomas Vrbada

He’s always gonna be a sub to me, idc

He would try so hard to be big man on campus and all strong and shit, but bitch one good tug at the hair and he’s folding 

Lets you take the reigns for the first time 

Don’t think just because he likes being tossed around a lil, he ain’t gonna say how he feels. No 

You can be submissive and still assertive. That’s Tomas 

Similar to Kuai Liang in the sense that he is really focused on what you want and what feels good to you 

Already moans a lot and loud as fuck but he’s especially loud once he’s finally inside you 

He wants to go slow but life happens. The wind just kinda blows this way and next thing you know he’s fucking you like he’s saying goodbye. It’s the winds fault fr 

Is also verbal with what he wants and wants you to be too 

You’d think y’all have fucked several times with how comfortable he is when it comes to saying what he’s into. What do you mean “choke me”?

What do you mean you wanna fuck the cum outta someone or vice versa? Let’s take a breather, calm down, gather our thoughts-

Once he’s horny his brain shuts off and the whore comes out. You’d expect it’d be Bi-Han that would become this bold, but no. He’s bold all the time. Tomas gives mfs whiplash. 

Like bro we were just eating dinner 20 minutes ago

Like I said, he’s really focused on what you want since it’s your first time. You gotta leave an impression 

Is his brain cells shutting off? Yes. Will them bitches turn back on if he notices you don’t like something or you say something feels weird? Yes 

He’s attentive 

Probably came before you because he’s sensitive but he’s not the type to roll over and be like “welp, guess it’s a wrap”

He wants your brain to be as fuzzy as his and he’s determined to make that shit happen 

Idk why I changed my profile to this Fear Street aesthetic when I never write for them but here we are. I wanted to change it and this is where I landed.

[punkpandapatrixk]

🌈Would You Marry Me, Honey? ♦︎ Timeless Pick A Card

Ideally, we’d hope for our Future Spouse to be the only person we would ever be married to🎎Having said that, this reading isn’t catering to a Future Spouse aenergy; this reading is entertaining the idea of a dharmic Soulmate who’s destined for our Highest Intended Good.

Our Destined Person—he or she whose soul essence lights up the whole world after we’ve learnt to light up our own world with Love towards ourselves🥰

To those of you reading this who had been married before or are currently bound to a weird loveless contract, please know this reading is still for you in whatever way it resonates for you🌷We all deserve to be happier and happier still at whatever stage of Life we’re in. It isn’t greed we’re talking about; it’s knowing everybody deserves to find Love in the end💝

And aaa~ happy holidays, Witches~!🎄

SONG: I’m Glad There Is You by Julie London

MOVIE: How To Marry A Millionaire (1953)

[PAC Masterlist] [Part 1] [Part 2]

[Patreon] [Paid Readings]

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 1 – Making A Soft Bed of Flowers with You

VIBE: Schatze Page & Tom Brookman

why I was attracted to you – 9 of Pentacles

Umm…you’re kinda giving off this coldass bitch boss aura that sends news to the entire town that you ain’t needing nobody in your Life. You’re so ULTRA independent it actually scares the living shit out of normal people XD You’re too powerful; too resourceful in your aloneness; too successful in your solitude; damn, are you sure you haven’t got an army of jealous bitches wishing ill upon you?? There are IT girls whom all girls want to be and guys want to be with, but you’re a whole different game, hon.

Girls know they can’t be you however much they pay! Guys know they can’t ever bend you however much they hate that you won’t pick them! Your aenergy is weird…you’re too happy…too authentic. The wrong people can only shake their heads in disbelief, gossiping that there must be something shady you’ve done in Life for you to be this real, this successful without being an ass-licker.

At the top of your game, you make the news go round and round you’re making them money from talking non-stop about you. That’s when your Destined Person hear about you and fell in love with your character. You’re swag, or something. You’re savage and honest. They fucking LOVE that you’re an unbreakable bitch boss. You can be a bitch boss to the world, but to your Destined Person, you’re a Goddess of Realness! And that’s rare AF. You’re a true gem. Finally, an equal to them!

how I fell in love with you – King of Cups

Well, in spite of how you appear to the world, your Destined Person was able to see beyond the façade. You act tough and all that but you have a kind and generous soul. People can’t be strong all alone for so long. If anything, the way you appear strong and unshakable incites your Destined Person’s protective nature LOL Your Destined Person has a big heart and wants to nurture. I think their love language might be gifts and attention just because they really like to give. They will give you all their money and attention LMAO

The main reason they fell in love with you is that you’ve inspired them to get even more in touch with their sensitive side. When your Destined Person sees or talks to you, their minds are opened to new ways to express their emotions. It is because you’re eloquent and you have a great library of words to impart your thoughts and feelings. Your Destined Person thinks you’re inhumanly intelligent and so new wave! Whatever that means XD

They also see that you, too, have a big heart. That you’re more understanding than anybody they’ve ever met. Below the iceberg castle you’ve built to protect yourself, you have an entire flower kingdom of kindness and care. It is your generous nature, your heart your Destined Person truly fell in love with. You’re gutsy and talented; you’re honest and courageous; but most of all, you are a genuine Lover with a divine heart and your Destined Person wants that for themselves…

Umm…with this King aenergy…I think your Destined Person is a possessive and territorial style? ^_^;

when I knew you were The One – Ace of Pentacles

Buhahahah… I think your Destined Person knew you were The One from the very beginning. From the moment they were intrigued by you, they already knew you were made for them! Not saying they never had moments they doubted themselves, especially when it comes to whether or not they are deserving of someone mega awesome as you, but they were head over heels from the get go. They couldn’t deny this attraction and they thought, whether or not they’re the marrying type, if they ever want to spend the rest of their days with someone that would have to be YOU~

When they met you…or got to know you (before meeting)…your Destined Person had been wanting to have a new beginning of sort. I think their Life was already secure and they’d achieved quite a great deal in Life. But that security felt fleeting. They wanted to offer all this greatness to someone. Your Destined Person is undoubtedly a lover LOL They want to be in a loving relationship. They want to share their Life, their riches, their comfort with someone. Obviously, it’s YOU~

With this Pile, rather than the idea of your Destined Person needing time to decide on you…it’s more like they actually had to stop themselves from creeping you out by not proposing to you on your first date! LMAO This is a Ted Mosby saying ‘I LOVE YOU’ on his first date with Robin kinda vibe. Something along those lines. Just pretend you didn’t know they already wanted to marry you from the beginning, hon XD Your whole courtship might feel awkward but cute because your Destined Person struggles a lil with behaving like they’re not crazy about you LMAO

I LOVE YOU🔻💙

in sorrow and in sickness – Gold Historian (Raphael Holinshed)

I vow to be there for you – Priestess of Patience

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 2 – I Could Tell You Were So Much More Than Your Silence

VIBE: Pola Debevoise & Freddie Denmark

why I was attracted to you – 3 of Pentacles Rx

When your Destined Person first saw you, they noticed that you were distant, rather aloof. Not sure if it was shyness or something else. Depending on your Destined Person’s base psychology or the environment they were brought up in, your Destined Person either thought you were a bitch, unfriendly, or they simply wondered by you were THAT shy, THAT quiet. I think it’s possible the day you met them you simply weren’t in a jolly mood, so you were rather uncommunicative.

Be THAT as it may, your Destined Person ain’t a bitch and if anything they were attracted to your coolness. There is something in your aura, your vibe, your body language, that tells them…you were so much more than your unfriendliness. Perhaps it’s in your gentle gesture, perhaps it’s in the way you gaze at someone else, but your Destined Person could tell, you’re a sensitive person who’s careful with who you get friendly with.

Your Destined Person saw…felt, rather…that you must be a compassionate, empathetic person who would make them feel safe. They could tell that you were society’s outcast of sort, that you were not generic, and that because of this you weren’t the type to quickly judge somebody without knowing their story first. Your Destined Person admires that about you. They think you have high morality and that although you aren’t always smiley or anything, for the most part, you’re really a polite person who’s such a delight to talk to once you feel comfortable with someone.

how I fell in love with you – 8 of Pentacles

Your Destined Person could tell that you’re somebody who’s battled your own inner demons. You’ve worked hard on yourself to be the superior version of yourself. And because you’re naturally kind and very keen on human psychology, your Destined Person saw that you’re the type that can easily understand other people’s crazy. That’s why you’re kind, quiet, and for the most part, patient with other people. You’re cool because you understand the world—you’re based. But you’re also aloof because you understand that most Humans are a waste of time LMAO

Your Destined Person thinks you’re the coolest person who’s ever walked on Earth! This is kinda telling me either your Destined Person is a few years younger than you or they could’ve come from a rather easy background so the maturity of their psychology is behind you XD Do you have significant Scorpio placements? Anyway, your Destined Person is charmed by your maturity, deep knowledge about uncommon things, and that once they get you talking, like whoa, your knowledge and perspectives are SO interesting. They could hear you talk for weeks on end.

Obviously, your Destined Person feels inspired by you. They also feel you’re the safest person they could talk to. If anything, you help them overcome their own demons or pains from the past. When they talk with you, they understand themselves better and they love that your perspectives on people and things are genuinely rooted in your desire to comfort and heal. They think you’re deeply spiritual but based, realistic and pragmatic, and before they could put words to it, they’ve already fallen in love with your character🥰

when I knew you were The One – Knight of Cups

I do see that it takes a bit, juuust a biiit, of time for your Destined Person to know you were The One for them, forever. Personally, they themselves are quite wary of people so just because they were curious and subsequently friendly towards you, didn’t mean they wanted to marry you immediately. Which, all things considered, is very sweet because when you met your Destined Person, when you noticed they were trying to get to know you, they were genuine! They weren’t just trying to get into your pants or wanting other superficial things from you.

Your Destined Person, I feel, is a very charming and handsome person. They’re likely popular, too. I think they know a lot of people, have a large family or perhaps have multiple large circles of people they know, so in that sense, they’re not the type of person who’s needing people just to fill in some kind of emptiness inside. They’re very genuine with you and in trying to get to know you, if anything, they’re the one who wants to offer you something precious: their attention and affection. There’s something poignant about you that makes them feel ultra-protective and they genuinely love that feeling of becoming a true romantic in your presence.

I LOVE YOU🔻🧡

in sorrow and in sickness – Green Magus (John Dee)

I vow to be there for you – Priestess of Inspiration

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 3 – Oh, Dreamy Beauty, You Elevate My Dreams

VIBE: Loco Dempsey & Eben

why I was attracted to you – Page of Wands

‘Okay, I’m not trying to be creepy or anything but damn you’re SEXY.’ Your Destined Person was first and foremost attracted to your beauty—your sex appeal, to be precise. They find you incredibly sexy…but why the goddamn hell are you cute?? Is that allowed? Little did they know that this appeal is actually your authentic soul. You’re actually a lot more honest than you give yourself credit for. You live Life quite honestly and you’re just being yourself. You don’t really give a damn if people find your essence offensive. ‘I’m not everybody’s cup of tea and that’s perfectly acceptable to me—so what are you gonna do about it?’

Though you’re strong like that on one hand, on the other you’re also quite stupid because you trust people too easily! At least your Destined Person sees you this way. They think, because you’re always honest you could fall into the trap of believing everybody is just as honest, as straightforward as you, which, most people aren’t! Plenty of people are sneaky and dangerous! And your Destined Person noticed this and felt a pull towards protecting you… *why don’t we have a melting heart emoji?*

Your Destined Person felt a pull to be there for you, protecting your Light, your innocence, your joy and happiness. I feel your Destined Person is actually quite a thinker, but when they were drawn to you, as if falling into a trance they couldn’t follow logic anymore. They were drawn in by your passion and delightful personality and before they knew it, they felt like they’d been swallowed whole by your flame🔥

how I fell in love with you – Queen of Pentacles

You’re a wholesome character and that much was apparent to your Destined Person right after they’ve got to know you a bit better. How quickly your Destined Person fell in love with you varies with this Pile, but some digging, some getting to know each other, and some learning is definitely required with this connection. Essentially, the moment your Destined Person learns that you’re so much more than how you look, they couldn’t help but develop genuine feelings for you. It’s a Soul-based kind of Love that transcends human ego.

I feel like your Destined Person could even shed a tear from realising just how much they care about your wellbeing. It’s pure like that and I promise you they’re not so used to feeling that typa feeling for just about anybody! As much as they see you as this very unique, very strong character in your own right, they want to be there to protect your heart. If your Destined Person is a masculine person, they will also want to protect your body and provide for you. They want to make things easier for you! They’re willing to make sacrifices to give the whole world for you, simply because you’re worth it.

Your Destined Person loves how you’re essentially the main character of your own world and…they want to be part of that world? XD They don’t mind being a side character in your world whom you fall for. I think this person could be younger than you or they’re simply not that mature yet emotionally or spiritually! What they love most about you is how you’re literally the most unique, resourceful, strategizing character who knows how to build your own world from scratch! You’re literally the most wholesome character they’d ever known throughout their Life. And they want a part in that world you’ve built with so much love and care. Now, they want to care for you…

when I knew you were The One – 10 of Wands Rx

Let it be known that your Destined Person is quite an intense bitch LMAO When they love, they love with all of their being and their devotion is no joke. This ain’t a playa over here. Or at least…when it comes to YOU, they ain’t got no game. Trust me. You must’ve done or said something that completely changed your Destined Person’s entire view on love and relationships. I betcha you’re the type of intense bitch who’d never settle for anything less than real Love. And that literally brushed off on your Destined Person. In the beginning, they went to war with themselves over this notion of real Love with a capital L.

They never really knew what Love was all about or if they were even deserving of Love. Just like everybody else, they had a very silly take on romance—this is especially the case if your Destined Person is a masculine being. Because of you, now they understand that money ain’t it; sex appeal ain’t it; status ain’t it. Aesthetics comes after real Love. You taught them that. And they’re grateful and they realise you’re the only person they want to love. It’s kinda possessive like that…I think your Destined Person could have some Taurus or Scorpio placements??

Anyway, in some way, your Destined Person could’ve been so embarrassed about their own childishness and felt super lacking as a person. Like, they don’t really know what to offer a divine being such as you…but they vowed to better themselves and grow up as quickly as possible so they could become worthy of your Love LMAO Gosh! It was around this time they realised they wanted to grow up as a person that they knew you were the ONLY one for them! Umm…like they just knew they could and would never be able to feel this way for any other person that’s not you. It had to be you~

I LOVE YOU🔻💛

in sorrow and in sickness – Silver Magus (Merlin)

I vow to be there for you – Priestess of Innocence

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

[PAC Masterlist] [Part 1] [Part 2]

[Patreon] [Paid Readings]

[nightprompts]

&. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐧 (𝐞𝐩𝐬. 𝟓-𝟖) 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬.

(  dialogue  prompts  taken from episodes 5 - 8  of max's  the  penguin  (2024),  created  by  lauren  lefranc.  feel  free  to  edit  and  change  as  you  seem  fit.. )

❛ you came back. put your ass on the line for me. a hundred maseratis couldn’t replace that. ❜

❛ it’s you and me now, kid. till the end. ❜

❛ you messed with the wrong fuckin' family! my mother, my father, they won’t stand for this... ❜

❛ i want what’s mine. ❜

❛ the cops are looking for you. although i get the sense they’d rather find you dead than alive. ❜

❛ you’re not looking too good. ❜

❛ the fuck is wrong with you? you’re fucking sick. ❜

❛ what kind of person kills their own fuckin’ family? ❜

❛ you think i’m a fuckin’ idiot? the second i do what you want, you fucking kill me. so just fuckin’ do it already. ❜

❛ listen, sweetheart, i know you can’t see it right now, but all this shit goin’ down, it’s a good thing. ❜

❛ nothing’s gonna happen to you. i won’t let it. ❜

❛ all i’m asking is for you to hang tight just a little longer. that’s it. and then it’s you and me on top of the world, baby. ❜

❛ you are a desperate fucking liar. ❜

❛ i got no reason to lie anymore! ❜

❛ god, she was beautiful, your mom. she was so beautiful. she had that laugh. when you got her going, it’d knock you out. ❜

❛ i couldn’t help your mother. let me help you. ❜

❛ i’ll find a place that’s safe. and i’ll call you when i get there, alright? ❜

❛ i’d like to be a part of whatever’s next... if you’ll have me. ❜

❛ if you join me, you will have a new family. and i’ll pay you what you’re worth. more money than you’ve ever seen before. ❜

❛ we had a deal. we look out for each other. we don’t fuck each other over. ❜

❛ you know i’m yours. but right now, i’m just gonna hold you back. ❜

❛ freedom always comes at a cost, doesn’t it? ❜

❛ i’ve come here to end the war between our families. ❜

❛ i am offering you an alliance. we join our families as a show of strength. ❜

❛ bored with me already? ❜

❛ you know, fugitives really shouldn’t leave their rooms. ❜

❛ i wouldn’t have pegged you as a cook. ❜

❛ you want me on your side, right? ❜

❛ if my mind goes before my body’s ready, i need you to help me. you gotta help me die. ❜

❛ i want you to do your fucking job. that’s what i fucking want. ❜

❛ i ain’t talkin’ to you when you’re like this. ❜

❛ you don’t seem surprised to see me. ❜

❛ dressing like this... is this for you or your clients? ❜

❛ i used to lie to men like that. but you don’t have to anymore. you have the power now. ❜

❛ you are good at telling people what they wanna hear. ❜

❛ you were born into opportunity, so you can afford to think in black and white. ❜

❛ but you did come here to kill me, right? ❜

❛ you done the right thing. protected those you care about. ❜

❛ it gets easier. ❜

❛ late to my own party. it’s not a good look, i know. ❜

❛ how about we watch a movie, one of the old ones you like? ❜

❛ it’s a date then. ❜

❛ here, i made your favorite, whiskey and soda. ❜

❛ what i wouldn’t do to get out of here. live in one of them penthouses all the celebrities buy. ❜

❛ that’s just a little taste of what you got comin’. ❜

❛ so, did you bring me here to feed me toast or you gonna kill me? ❜

❛ you hear me? i beat you. i win. ❜

❛ there’s a storm coming. i’m gonna need your help. ❜

❛ is that what you think? that… i would do something… as horrible as that? ❜

❛ you getting any sleep? ❜

❛ it might do you some good to get out of the house. ❜

❛ get dressed. we’re goin’ out. ❜

❛ what do you want? tell me, and i’ll get it. ❜

❛ of course i’m gonna take care of you. i’d do anything for you. ❜

❛ i see you. in ways that other people don’t. ❜

❛ i see the way you smile when you want people to think you’re enjoying something you ain’t. ❜

❛ i see how you smoke more when you’re thinking, and you drink more when you’re sad. ❜

❛ i see how hard you work, how smart you are… and how you wish the people who matter would notice. ❜

❛ no one else believes in you like me. no one else is gonna give you what you deserve. ❜

❛ just don’t give up on me. ❜

❛ you gotta know your place, or you’re gonna catch a bullet. ❜

❛ you’re a disappointment. ❜

❛ you’re the devil. you’re the goddamn devil. ❜

❛ get your shit together and, uh… you know… be you. ❜

❛ all right, you stay put. don’t do anything that might call attention to yourself, all right? ❜

❛ if anybody sees me in here with you, i’m… ❜

❛ what do you say you and me go for a drive? ❜

❛ just like old times, huh? ❜

❛ you got no idea what it feels like, born into nothin’. ❜

❛ you don’t wanna put your gun to my back… make a big show of it? ❜

❛ you have always been a monster. ❜

❛ you’re never gonna find peace, you know that? ❜

❛ you’re going to hell… sweetheart. ❜

❛ i’ll save you a seat. ❜

❛ get some cups. snuck you in a little whiskey to celebrate. ❜

❛ you gotta tell me… just tell me you’re proud of me. ❜

❛ come on. just once. just tell me you’re proud of me. ❜

❛ tell me i did good! ❜

❛ i did it for you! i did it all for you, the whole thing! ❜

❛ you think she forgives me? ❜

❛ you know i couldn’t’ve done any of this shit without you, right? ❜

❛ thanks for taking a chance on me. ❜

❛ you’re family to me. ❜

❛ you and me… it’s all that’s left. ❜

❛ now, i don’t believe in kismet or nothing. but… it’s good that we met. ❜

❛ i can’t bring you with me this time. ❜

❛ that’s the thing about family. it’s your strength. it drives you. but fuck if it don’t make ya weak, too. and i can’t have that no more. ❜

❛ you got a good heart. ❜

❛ it wasn’t for nothin’. ❜

❛ dance with me, sweetheart. ❜

❛ tell me you love me. ❜

❛ tell me you’re proud of me. ❜

❛ i’m so proud of you. ❜

❛ nothing is standing in your way now. ❜

[glossdebut]

Take a Bite Ch. 6

✧ PAIRING: yoongi x fem!reader

✧ SUMMARY: Your fledgling career as a music journalist is finally going in some kind of direction that must be on the path to success. Your coworkers like you enough to invite you out on Fridays, your boss is starting to think you’re competent enough to let you score a few bylines, and you’re finally getting the hang of InDesign. All of your hard work, late nights, and complete lack of a social life are starting to pay off… Even if it all came at the expense of the longest relationship of your life. Fine. You’ve accepted the fact that romance isn’t for you, under any circumstances. You won’t risk your career for anybody. Not even Min Yoongi.

✧ TAGS: slow burn, eventual smut, eventual romance, producer yoongi, music journalist reader, neighbors to friends to lovers? you’ll see, reader is bad at feelings, reader is post-break up

✧ WARNINGS: um... CLIFFHANGER?

✧ WORDCOUNT: 5.4k

✧ STATUS: complete

✧ AUTHOR’S NOTE: chapter 6 is here early!!! holy shit. this is the second to last chapter of take a bite, so next week's update will wrap everything up! i don't want to give too much away about what happens in this one, but just for reference... um. P.S. i'm sorry in advance. P.P.S. thank you so much tanni @love4myg for beta reading this chapter for me! you saved my wordy ass from publishing so many run-on sentences.

Chapter 6: Y’all Ain’t Never Been To A Party Before?

“Y/N, YOU WHORE!”

So, many things are happening. Holy shit.

First, to your surprise, midnight kimchijeon with Yoongi last night very quickly devolved into more sex.

You had been a little bit anxious while you watched him cook, and even more anxious while you both ate in relative silence, that the weirdness coming off of Yoongi in waves at the mention of Yijeong had effectively killed the vibe. Thankfully, being bent over his kitchen counter and fucked into oblivion did wonders to kill that worry before it fully took root.

It was… You’ve never been fucked quite like that before. Practically drooling onto the marble beneath you as he pounded into you, his hands gripping at your ass, his gravelly voice in your ear, growling “thank me again. You wanna come? Thank me for fucking you like this, come on, show me how much you fucking like it,” and you did. Fuck, he was mean, but you liked it, you liked it so much.

For somebody who very openly prefers to remain completely stationary (and horizontal, if he can help it), Yoongi sure has a fuckton of stamina. So… score.

Second, due to said stamina and your resulting exhaustion following round two, you ended up staying over at Yoongi’s apartment last night. Which was not the plan originally, but both you and Yoongi were unconvinced that you could safely make the journey down the hall back to your own apartment. When the opportunity to crash on a purple mattress presented itself so enticingly, you were powerless to resist.

You both fell asleep very tired and very unclothed, the latter of which probably would’ve resulted in even more sex come morning—sex you were very much looking forward to—if you hadn’t awoken to approximately seven trillion notifications on your phone from Rina, scaring the absolute piss out of you and forcing you to leave a very confused Yoongi to deal with his morning wood all by his lonesome. 

It’s around eleven in the morning, the latest you’ve slept in months, when you roll into your own apartment, sleep-mussed and fucked out.

Which brings you to the third thing.

Rina is here. Like, here. In your apartment. Not in Paris.

Breaking the sound barrier with her excitement as she looks you up and down, in all of your walk-of-shame glory.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, your voice still scratchy with sleep. You toss your keys on the closest flat surface to give Rina a very confused hug. You missed her, of course. Terribly so, and that outweighs anything else. But also, what?

“What weren’t you doing here?” Rina quips, squeezing you tight in return. “And please tell me the answer is Yoongi.”

It dawns on you that you and Rina haven’t really spoken since you actually went through with everything, being in different time zones and all. ‘Yoongi invited me to his studio where he produces music and then made me come with his tongue so hard I almost died’ didn’t seem like an announcement to be made over text.

“I don’t think that makes sense,” you mumble into her shoulder before pulling away, sheepish. “But yes, I was at Yoongi’s.”

“Slut,” Rina squeals, her hands latching onto your shoulders and shaking you. “I need to meet him.”

Oh, fuck.

Your eyes widen instantly, slight panic overtaking you as you glance back at your door. You know Rina, and you know that she is not above striding over to Yoongi’s apartment right now and getting a good eyeful for herself.

“Oh my god, Rina, no.” You grab Rina’s hands firmly, pleading. “He’s barely even awake. I promise I’ll tell you every last detail if you don’t do that, holy shit.”

She laughs, pulling her hands away to cross her arms, raising an expectant eyebrow at you. “I’m waiting.”

You sigh, trudging into your kitchen to start a pot of coffee, since you’re clearly going to need it.

“Tell me why you’re in my apartment first,” you say, fishing two mugs out of a cabinet and setting them on the counter. “Not that I mind, but… Paris?”

After the coffee is brewed and doled out, you both move to your couch for a much-needed debriefing of the past few weeks. 

Over your steaming mugs, Rina explains to you that she has come to the liberating realization that the show will in fact go on without her. 

Her stint in Paris, as fun and fabulous as it was, also made her lonely, and once she was confident the theatre company she was collaborating with would do her work justice without her helicoptering over them, Rina immediately booked the first flight to you.

She plans to stick around for an undetermined period of time, as long as you’ll have her, if you’re okay with that—duh, you tell her with a flick to the forehead—and then go home to her boyfriend for a much-needed hiatus from theatre.

Rina tells you everything about Paris: the sightseeing, the shopping. Her show, the reaction it garnered. In return, you give her all of the gory details about Yoongi. All of them, because she’ll sense it if you leave anything out.

You tell her about the night in his studio, how you deliberated and deliberated until you finally gave in, and how you were rewarded with Yoongi’s head between your thighs, eating you out like a man starved.

You tell her about the horribly inappropriate and ridiculously hot sexting that took place in your open floor plan office, how he described in detail what he was going to do to you when he finally got the chance. You hand your phone over without a fight when she demands to read the messages herself, staring down into your mug as she screeches with delight while reading.

You tell her about last night, how Yoongi made good on all of his promises and then some. How he took his time learning the cues of your body. And about the kimchijeon, because it’s really unfair that Yoongi seems to be good at everything.

Rina whistles lowly, raising an eyebrow at you as she takes a long sip of her coffee.

“Okay, I really need to meet him now,” she says.

“There was a weird moment,” you lament, sinking into the couch. “I might be overthinking—”

“Most likely—”

“But, there was definitely a moment,” you continue, firm. You know what you saw. “I got this killer opportunity at work to write about this producer, and Yoongi knows him, so I asked him to put in a good word for me, and he, like, froze up for a second. I don’t know.”

“Was that before or after he fucked your brains out?”

You snort, mumbling into your coffee as you go for a sip. “Between.”

“Okay, so, he’s probably over it if he went back for seconds,” Rina reasons, shrugging. “Why don’t you just ask him about it?”

You shake your head. “If he’s moved past it, I don’t want to bring it up again and risk popping the sex bubble we’re in,” you say. “You’re right, I’m probably overthinking. Yoongi’s Yoongi. He would’ve said no if he really wasn’t cool with it.”

Rina hums, nodding sagely. “Don’t pop the sex bubble,” she agrees. “It’s your job, anyway. Using your connections. I’m sure he’s dealt with reporters before, being who he is. He probably gets it.”

Your phone buzzes, and you set your mug down to fish it out from between the couch cushions. “Yeah.”

Speak of the devil.

Once you grab hold of your phone, you’re greeted with a text from Yoongi. It seems he’s been busy since your abrupt departure. 

[11:58] Yoongi: Spoke to Yijeong. He’s going to be at a label party tonight and he’s down to meet you if you’ll go. I’ll take you.

And then, another.

[11:58] Yoongi: Kind of a fancy thing, though. Cocktail attire. Lmk. 

Normally you’d dread everything he’s proposing—uncomfortable shoes at a party where you don’t know a soul wouldn’t be your first choice for a Saturday night—but you find yourself biting your lip to mask the stupid grin forming on your face. You’re getting your interview and there’s a high possibility you’ll get to see Yoongi in a suit? Everything’s coming up Y/N. 

You lift your gaze from your phone to Rina, who looks at you expectantly. 

“Bring any dresses back with you from Paris?”

★ ★ ★

When Yoongi swings by to pick you up hours later, you’re more than a little grateful you share a dress size with your best friend. 

Rina did, in fact, bring dresses back with her from Paris, and the second this particular one slipped onto your body she had no choice but to declare that it was yours.

It’s just your style—black, simple, form-fitting enough that you look fucking good in it, but long enough to wear to what is essentially a work event. Lace detailing on the bodice. A teasing slit up the side. And it’s from Paris, and while you don’t particularly love the French for much, they can make a damn garment. Yeah, you want to be buried in this dress.

Yoongi leans against the door jamb, not the slightest bit subtle as his eyes rake over you. You smirk to yourself as you bend down to get your heels on. 

“Pretty dress,” he says, though his tone does little to mask what he’s really thinking. Fuck the party. Under any other circumstances, you’d agree, but duty calls.

“It’s hers,” you say, standing upright and jerking your chin back in Rina’s direction. Rina, who is lingering in your kitchen, very obviously exercising all of her restraint not to crowd Yoongi right now and inspect him like a toy. 

“It’s yours,” she corrects, gritting the words out. Good thing you made her promise to be normal.

You take a moment to look at Yoongi, who, to your delight, is wearing a suit. Black, like your dress. What a pair the two of you make.

“You clean up nice,” you say, drinking in the sight of him just as shamelessly as he did to you. Letting your eyes speak for you.

The suit is simple, also like your dress, but the long lines accentuate his legs, making him look taller. Crisp white shirt. Black tie. Hair styled out of his face. He looks good, and he knows it. You can tell in the way he’s carrying himself.

Yoongi hums, smirking. “So I’ve heard.” He glances behind you, at Rina, and then back at you. “The playwright? Rina?”

You nod, surprised that he was able to recall her name. 

He looks back at Rina, smiling at her. “How was Paris?”

The memory on this man. 

“Great,” Rina says tightly. You’re almost proud of her.

“I’m Yoongi,” he says, eyebrow raising at the weird tension wafting from your kitchen.

“I’ve heard so much about you,” she says emphatically, and you snort.

“Ah.” You note that the tips of Yoongi’s ears are pink. Yours would be too, if you were in a room with two people who discussed the way you fuck in-depth. “Good things, I hope.”

“Ready to go?” you chirp as you grab your bag, taking pity on Rina. Any more and she’ll snap, you’re sure of it.

Yoongi nods and steps back into the hallway, allowing you to slip out the door. 

“Nice to meet you,” he calls to Rina as you shut the door, and then you’re both moving.

★ ★ ★

The ride to the party itself is uneventful. Although you’re giddy at the confirmation that the sex bubble has indeed remained unpopped, the second you’re seated in Yoongi’s car you shift into work mode. 

The tiny notepad you’d stuffed in your bag is now clutched in your hand, and the near silence in the car is only interrupted with the occasional question or clarification on something you’ve jotted down in your research on Yijeong. Yoongi answers to the best of his knowledge, supplementing where he can, but it’s clear you’ve done your due diligence. You’re ready.

Yoongi’s car comes to a crawl, and you peer out the window at the outrageous mansion he’s brought you to. You’d barely been paying attention when he’d stopped at the gate to give his name for entry, but now that you’re here, you’re struck by the luxury that awaits you on the other side of the passenger door.

A huge, freshly manicured lawn. Equally manicured shrubbery. A neon-lit fountain in the middle of the driveway, right in front of the imposing entryway to the biggest house you’ve ever seen in person. Modern, sleek architecture composing the monolith before you.

Yoongi hops out of the car to walk around to the passenger side and open the door for you. He helps you out, steadying you as your heels connect with the gravel beneath you.

The house is clearly bustling with people, music seeping out into the night as partygoers filter in and out, as others gather on the balconies (plural!) for cigarettes.

“Whose party is this?” you ask, amazed as Yoongi hands his keys off to the valet—a valet, at somebody’s home. 

“Bang Si-Hyuk,” Yoongi says as he watches his car depart without him, clearly not sharing your amazement. Right, you remind yourself. He’s used to this kind of thing. You, however, feel horribly out of your element, even in your Parisian dress.

He offers you his arm and you take it, staring down at your feet as you walk through the gravel so as not to twist your ankle. You can do this. Networking opportunities galore.

The doors to Bang Si-Hyuk’s mansion are opened for the both of you by the two men flanking it, revealing the party unfolding inside. You gawk, clutching your bag and the notebook inside of it, as Yoongi takes your free hand. He gives it a small squeeze before guiding you past the foyer, past clusters of celebrities and executives, caterers balancing trays of tiny hors d'oeuvres, all the way to the bar.

When prompted, Yoongi, predictably, orders an old fashioned. You opt for a vodka martini, something to quell the nerves mounting inside of you. You’ve come a long way from plastic cups of cheap beer at a Western bar, it seems.

The bartender procures your drinks, sliding them over to the both of you on cocktail napkins, and Yoongi clinks his glass against yours.

“You look like you’re going to shit yourself,” he says, grinning into his glass and taking a swig.

“I hate you,” you mumble in kind, letting the vodka warm your throat as you take a sip of your own. “Remind me again why you live in our apartment complex?”

“Because I’m not Bang Si-Hyuk,” he says simply, setting his drink down as a woman with long, sleek hair in a slinky dress approaches the both of you, though her eyes are focused on Yoongi.

She’s gorgeous. You recognize her, but your memory fails you as you come up short on her name.

“Min Yoongi, as I live and breathe,” she says with a dazzling grin as Yoongi extends his arm out to clasp her hand. She takes hold of his easily and doesn’t let go as she continues speaking in a familiar tone. Hm. “What a surprise.”

“Noona,” Yoongi says, mouth quirking up at the corners as he turns his head to you, his hand still clasped in hers. “Y/N, this is Shin Suran.”

Suran like the singer, your brain helpfully pieces together. You’ve heard her songs on the radio before, read about her in Look Here long before you started. She had a single years back that charted like crazy, a single that you personally own. She’s done a song with Dean before. And she seems to know Yoongi very well, based on the way she’s still touching him. Something stirs in your gut.

Suran’s attention finally turns towards you, her hand leaving Yoongi’s at last as she reaches out to shake yours. You set your glass down on the bar behind you, wipe the condensation off on your dress as discreetly as you can.

“Y/N,” she says, tilting her head at you as you take her offered hand and shake. “It’s lovely to meet you.”

“You as well. I loved ‘Wine,’” you respond, politely extricating your hand to pick up your glass and take another sip of your drink. It’s true, you did love ‘Wine’ when it came out, and despite your distaste for this interaction in general, Suran is supremely talented, there’s no denying it. Not to mention a potential connection for you, thanks to Yoongi.

Suran laughs, her eyes crinkling in the corners. “I appreciate that,” she says warmly before glancing at Yoongi. “Although, that song wouldn’t have existed if it weren’t for Yoongi-yah.”

…Huh?

It clicks then, your brain coming online in an instant. 

Yoongi, your Yoongi—the one who lives down the hall from you, who sends you cat videos while you’re at work, who calls you baby when he fucks you—is Suga. 2017 Hot Trend Award winner Suga. Over one hundred KOMCA credits to his name Suga. That he’s not just your Yoongi, but very likely one of the most famous people in this room. That he might’ve been Suran’s Yoongi, too, at one point.

You’d known that he was famous, sure. You’d been to his studio, seen the awards on the wall, although you’d been to preoccupied with wanting to fuck him to actually read them. His studio setup alone told you that he had money, not to mention the paid driver he sent you, the small flashes of luxury in his otherwise humble apartment. But this…

You realize, to add insult to injury, that the song filtering through the speakers right now is his. 

“Noona,” Yoongi says, his eyes locked on you as he speaks, although you sure as hell aren’t his noona. “We’ll catch up with you later.”

You barely catch their goodbyes, picking up your martini to stare into as Suran departs.

“Y/N,” Yoongi says softly.

“You didn’t tell me you were Suga.” 

The name feels weighty on your tongue. You don’t know why it bothers you so much, that you didn’t know. That he didn’t tell you outright. But it does.

Yoongi shifts from one foot to the other awkwardly, his body stiff next to yours.

“You didn’t ask,” he mumbles. “It’s not like I was hiding it from you.”

“Seems like the kind of thing to lead with,” you mumble back, taking a long swig, letting the alcohol burn on its way down.

“Yeah, I don’t make a habit of doing that,” he says. You lift your head to look at him at the bitter tone in his voice, trying to decipher the look on his face, but you’re at a loss. You’re beginning to realize just how little you know about your neighbor. Your friend. Your… Well, he’s more than that now, isn’t he? 

How many details about Yoongi have you let slip from your memory, while he seems to hold on to every little thing he learns about you?

He polishes off his drink and sets his glass down, pulling his phone from his back pocket to send off a text, not looking up from the screen as he speaks. “Ready to meet Yijeong?”

You sigh, suddenly right back where you were last night when you asked him about Yijeong in the first place, but you nod. “Yeah.”

At the responding buzz, Yoongi pockets his phone and wordlessly leads you through the party. You ignore the way your hand in his feels more like a necessary evil this time around.

★ ★ ★

Jang Yijeong is remarkably handsome, tall and lithe in his suit as he puffs on a cigarette. Meeting him isn’t nearly as nerve wracking as you’d thought, although you’re sure you have Yoongi to thank for that.

As soon as you step foot on the balcony, your brain shifts back into work mode with little effort. You watch as Yoongi and Yijeong greet each other with a hug, which you didn’t expect, and they immediately fall into a rapport that can only come from years of familiarity. Yoongi said he knew Yijeong, but he conveniently left out the fact that they’re, like, besties or something. They’re getting a little annoying, these omissions of Yoongi’s. 

Mercifully, Yoongi seems eager to get out of your way as soon as possible. According to Yijeong, he and Yoongi have been working closely for the past month, so he’s kind of sick of looking at his face anyway.

After a muttered, almost fond ‘go fuck yourself’ from Yoongi, he’s leaving you in Yijeong’s care, both of you sitting on the patio furniture kindly provided by Bang Si-Hyuk on the balcony.

“So,” your interviewee starts, taking a drag from his cigarette. “You must be pretty special, getting Yoongi-yah to make an appearance at one of these things.” He gestures at the fanfare through the balcony doors with his free hand.

“I’m not here to talk about me,” you say shyly, balancing your notepad on your knee as you set your phone to record and slide it onto the table between you, next to an ornate ashtray. “I’m here to talk about you.”

“Very nice,” Yijeong hums, amused. “I’m serious, though. I’ve been going to these since I debuted. Album release parties, award ceremonies, anything I could get an invite to. But I haven’t seen Yoongi at one in years. He hates this shit.”

“When I made the switch to producing, I practically begged him to come out of hiding and be my plus-one. He’s been producing for way longer. He knows the people at these things, knows how to work them if he has to,” he continues. “Yoongi and I have been friends for a long time. He’s practically my brother. But I couldn’t get him to say yes.”

Nothing about that tracks. Yoongi and Yijeong, if your math is mathing correctly, have known each other for the better part of a decade. You’ve only known Yoongi for a month and a half. If he’s as much of a hermit as Yijeong insists, why would he do this for you if Yijeong couldn’t get him to budge?

You think about Suran and how surprised she seemed to see Yoongi. You think about the text you got this afternoon, how he didn’t give any indication that going to this party was outside of his comfort zone. Another omission, except this time you don’t feel annoyance, but something else entirely. Something you don’t dare name. You shift in your seat.

“I’m just saying,” he says warmly, ashing his cigarette in the tray between you, meeting your eyes. “You must be special.”

You don’t know what to say in response, and you know it shows. Yijeong laughs at whatever expression he finds on your face, warmth blooming in your cheeks as your eyes burn holes in the notepad on your knee. 

“Okay, okay,” he says, grinning and raising his hands up in surrender. “Do your worst. It’s been a few years since I’ve done this, so I might be a little rusty. But for you, mystery girl, I’m an open book.”

Yijeong speaks to you like an old friend. He tells you about how he fell in love with singing in the fourth grade, when he sang ‘Azalea’ by Maya in front of the eommas and appas of his peers and got a taste of what it’s like to sing for an audience. He opens up to you about losing control of his own voice during his career as an idol, how he didn’t know what was wrong, was wracked with fear over it. 

He tells you about becoming friends with Yoongi, about being taken under his wing to learn a whole new skill and take a new direction with his career. How Yoongi opened a door for him that he didn’t even know existed. You learn that Yijeong has been collaborating with Yoongi for years now without drawing too much attention to it, but now that he can stand alone, he’s ready to step back into the limelight as EL CAPITXN.

You get so enraptured in the conversation, dutifully scribbling notes and asking follow-up questions, that you barely notice that over half an hour has passed by.

“Y/N,” Yijeong says, smiling at you as he wraps up his answer to your last question. You don’t know how to explain it, but it makes so much sense to you that this man is Yoongi’s friend. Maybe it’s the warmth in his voice. “You should probably go rescue Yoongi-yah from those leeches inside.”

“Yeah,” you agree, biting back a smile at the thought of Yoongi braving rookie idols and sleazy executives, trying to find a wall to hug while he waits. For you. He’s doing this for your career, for you. “It was lovely to meet you, Yijeong.”

“The pleasure was all mine,” Yijeong insists, watching you knowingly as you pack up your notepad and pen, moving to stand. “Y/N-ah,” he calls, making you pause at the balcony door. “Treat him well, okay?”

Something that you’ve been ignoring for a long time unfurls in your chest.

“I will,” you promise softly.

You push the balcony door open, your heartbeat thrumming in your ears as you make your way back to the bar. You will rescue Yoongi, want nothing more than to be with him again, but you need the liquid courage now more than ever.

Here’s what you know: You have spent the last three years terrified of falling. Starving yourself from the full breadth of friendship, of intimacy, of love, because of what happened the last time you let yourself have it. You’ve convinced yourself that any man that claims interest in you would do the same in the long run, that being career-driven is a deterrent to love and nobody will ever accept you for who you are.

But you also know this: Yoongi sees you. He understands you. Unlike your ex, he doesn’t feel hurt when you disappear for days on end, lost in your work, because he’s very likely doing the same. And yet he still finds time to read everything that gets published under your name. He offers his studio as a safe haven for you to write when the words stop flowing in your own office. He goes to parties he’d normally rather die than attend just so you can get an interview, because it’s important to you.

You don’t want to starve anymore. Min Yoongi has been staring you in the face for the past month and a half, offering you everything you’ve been scared of since your ex left you three years ago, all alone in a strange city. Offering you all of his support and kindness and closeness like a filling meal. And for the first time in a very long time, you want to try and take a bite.

Terrifyingly, you really, really fucking like him. Not just as a friend.

You finish your martini quickly before weaving through the crowd to find Yoongi. And you do, leaning against the furthest wall. Drink in hand, just like the night you met.

When you approach, he lifts his head and your heart soars when your eyes meet.

“Ready to go?” he asks, none the wiser to your sudden change of heart. 

“Yeah,” you breathe. “Yeah, let’s go.”

★ ★ ★

You barely make it into your shared hallway before you’re on Yoongi, your body pressing against his and your arms looped around his neck as you pull him into a searing kiss. He tastes like whiskey, and normally you’d hate that, but it tastes all the more sweet because it’s on Yoongi’s lips.

It’s so different, now that you’re allowing yourself to really feel it. You fit together so perfectly. His lips feel so right on yours. How could you have been so blind before?

You expect Yoongi to press you against the wall, or slide his hands up the skirt of your dress, or groan your name into your mouth like he can’t get enough of you. You know you can’t get enough of him. In his suit, waiting to be unwrapped like a present.

You want Yoongi to do those things, desperately. You want to pay attention properly this time, you want not to shy away from the intimacy of it all. You want whispered praise in your ear, eye contact while he fucks you, his lips on yours and his stilted moan as he spills inside of you. You want the softness that comes after, for him to clean you up with care and wrap you in his arms. You want to sleep in his bed for a reason other than exhaustion. 

But instead, Yoongi pulls away, grasping your shoulders gently as he creates distance between you. You look up at him, confused.

“Rina’s probably waiting for you,” he says.

“I promise you, she’s not,” you snort. Rina knows better than to expect you home before morning at the earliest. You surge forward, leaning up to chase his lips again, but he remains out of reach.

“Y/N…” Conflicted. 

Right. Of course, duh! You’re getting ahead of yourself. 

You forgot, in the haze of your epiphany, that your last conversation with Yoongi didn’t exactly bode well for your sex bubble. You need to set the record straight, then.

“Yoongi, if this is about earlier… the Suga thing,” you start, leaning in to pepper kisses down his neck, your fingers coming up to fiddle with his tie, loosening it. “I’m not mad, okay?”

Yoongi shakes his head, running his hand through his hair. “No, I just…” He trails off, sighing. “Maybe this wasn’t a good idea, Y/N. The friends with benefits thing.”

You freeze.

Dread fills you instantly, replacing all of the warmth that had been inhabiting your body just moments before.

Why now? What’s changed? You know what’s changed for you, but it can’t be the same for him if he’s pulling away from you like this.

Yoongi gently removes your hand from his tie, takes a step back from you. Crushes all of your hope with his next words.

“I just don’t know if I can do this with you.”

With you. 

“Oh,” you breathe. You feel like you’re going to cry. The beginnings of tears are already welling up in your eyes, and you do your best to blink them away.

“I’m sorry.”

You shake your head. “Don’t be,” you say, forcing your expression to remain neutral. “I appreciate your honesty.”

“I still want to be your friend, Y/N,” Yoongi says, his voice pained, like he can see right through you. You wish he’d stop. “Please.”

“Yeah,” you say, your own voice breaking just a little. You don’t want to cry in front of him. Fuck that. “I’m gonna go home. See you.”

Before he has a chance to say anything else, you’re speedwalking to your apartment, fishing your keys out hurriedly to unlock it and rush in. 

Once you’re inside, you lean back against the door, sliding down until you’re sitting on the floor. It feels so similar to the night you met him—running away from him in the hallway, feeling like you can’t breathe once you’re on the other side of the door. Too bad it’s so, so different.

At the sound of the door, Rina comes out from your bedroom, Pepper in tow.

“Y/N? Is that you? I thought for sure you’d be getting dicked down right about n—” You watch her stop in her tracks at the sight of you, her expression laden with concern. “Y/N? What’s wrong?”

“There are strings,” you sniffle, looking up at your best friend with watery eyes. “And it’s my fault.”

“Oh, Y/N,” Rina breathes, setting Pepper down and immediately joining you on the floor, wrapping her arms around you.

Your mind flashes back to three years ago, in a position not all that different from this one. But that was for a relationship, one that lasted years. One that you foolishly assumed was heading for marriage. Why does this hurt just as much? Why did Yoongi nestle himself into the softest, most vulnerable parts of you just to rip himself away at the last second?

You finally allow yourself to cry.

✧ shoot me a reply or an ask if you enjoyed this chapter! feedback is always appreciated <3 join my taglist if you want to be tagged in future chapters!

@dollfaceksj @jajabro @coffeedepressionsoup @butterymin @pitchblack0309 @sugar-snap

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[darklydeliciousdesires]

Claire!! I ran to your inbox the second I saw your post about drabbles being open!! :D

Would be willing to write something for Tommy Shelby using this prompt: “Don’t play games with me, sweetheart. You won’t like it when I play them back.” ?? Take the story in whatever direction you desire….I just know it’ll be amazing!

Thanks so much if you choose to! A

A little short for my darling K? Of course <3 I hope you like the direction I went in with this!

Words - 1,139

Warnings - None

“You don’t need to lie to me. You hate him, don’t you? I see it, kitty cat. That face of yours when you’re on his arm? It ain’t the face of a broad who's happy to be there.”  

He was right, too. Although you had to wonder how many times others had witnessed your carefully placed facade slip. Then again, you hadn’t been stepping out all too long with Tommy Shelby. You didn’t intend on doing so either. 

Tommy didn’t remember you from school. He had no recollection over how he’d made you feel about yourself as a little girl, the name calling, the teasing, the shoving you around. “Boys will be boys, my sweet”, your father had always said. Your mother had taken a much less blasé approach.  

“Darling girl of mine, boys will not be boys. Boys will be however we let them behave. If that little shit continues to act like this, wallop him one.” 

While you appreciated her stance, you never did give him the aforementioned walloping. Until now, in your decision to make him pay for being your playground tormentor, your bully. Some might call it immature of you not to be able to move on from it, but truly, Tommy Shelby has done more to hurt you than any other. 

It didn’t stop in the playground. 

The growth of The Shelby Company Ltd, with its wings spreading like an albatross across the coal-black suburbs of Birmingham led to your father being put out of work, your brother being recruited and then executed as a Peaky Blinder and your family losing everything. Tommy was so lost within the vast vortex of his own ego that he didn’t even recognise you, by neither sight nor name when you approached him one evening in The Garrison, your charm amped up, your plan set into action. 

You would make him fall in love with you, you would toy with his heartstrings and then, finally, you would rip them to pieces. Just like he did to your life. Just like he always had.  

Your plan? It worked. Effortlessly.  

Every time he called to court you, you would exit the door of your lodgings looking pristine, ready to be wined and dined, your place upon the arm of the city’s most prolific gangster a spot coveted by many. It never did fail to make bitter fire lick your insides, though, while other women burned with envious ire. Your revulsion ran deep, but you had to confess; at least he was pretty to look at. At least he was a talented and sensual lover.  

You never allowed him in too much, though, and it was the cleverness, the assertive aloofness of your nature that had the poor fool coming back for more every time.  

“Why don’t you ever stay with me, sweetheart?” he asks you on one such night, as you pull yourself back into your clothes. 

Looking away from the garter clasp you’re about to affix to your stocking, you see it there in his eyes. Pleading. Longing. The desire to spend the entire night curled around you in a warm, loving embrace.

“I like my own bed.” 

He tuts, reaching for his cigarette. “You always say that. Don't even let me stop over there with you either.” 

“I like my own bed alone.” 

“And what when we’re married, eh?” he questions, exhaling a thick plume of smoke into the dark of the room. “Will you let me share a bed with you then, or are we to be like an old-fashioned Victorian couple, same bedroom, single beds?” His eyes glint at you, shifting to sit up a little. “That’s a bit puritan for a girl who likes being fucked as dirty as you, love.” 

The urge to punch that smug, pretty face of his. Buttoning your blouse, you reach for your coat and pull it on, picking up your bag and then leaning to press a kiss upon his lips. “I’ll say goodnight now, Tommy. Let you go to sleep and dream of me.”  

He isn’t used to not getting his own way, and lord, how it shows. He reaches for your wrist, grasping you in a hard clutch, your mind flashing back to the playground. He’d do this while kicking your shins and mocking you. “Don’t play games with me, sweetheart. You won’t like it when I play them back.” 

You smirk, and the devil’s fire flashes through his eyes. “Is that a threat, darling?” 

“It’s a bloody promise, love, and you know it is. Might have to tie you to this bed next time, stop you from escaping on me.” He smiles then, something boyish in him as he tilts his head, pulling you down into a soft kiss. “I love you, even if you are a bloody temptress.” 

“Love you, too. Goodnight.” 

Leaving the bedroom, you saunter down the stairs and into the lounge, going into his jacket pocket and removing the keys to the building he runs his legitimate business from, Out of your purse, you remove the soft ball of clay you’ve stashed away wrapped in paper, flattening it with your palm before pressing each key into it.

With those imprints taken, you visit the local foundry the following day, asking for a set of keys to be made to those exact impressions. 

“Ahh, nice, easy little job this, bab,” the foreman informs you, removing his cap to scratch his balding head as he takes the lump of now dried clay. “Have ‘em ready for ya by close.”  

After returning later that evening, you have within your grasp the tools you require to facilitate the final piece of your plan, the last little detail being delivered to you by a third party, one who after arriving from New York saw quite clearly how much use you could be to him, getting close enough to ruin Tommy Shelby and all he held dear.  

Walking through the bar of The Grand Hotel, you slide into a seat beside the handsome Italian waiting for you, placing the keys into his hand. 

“You did good, doll,” he drawls, eyeing you appreciatively. “Here.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a roll of bills, handing them to you with a wink before taking your hand and kissing it. “If you’re ever in New York in the future, please, don’t think twice about looking me up.” 

Of course, Luca Changretta could have simply broken into the building he required access to, but Tommy is a shrewd operator. He would notice even the most carefully picked lock, and the plan was always for him not to see it coming. When The Shelby Company Ltd explodes into a ball of fire, both Tommy and Arthur within it, you know he never saw it coming.  

After all, he never truly saw you.  

[receival]

baldur’s gate 3 starters.

the following is a collection of sentence starters from larian’s baldur’s gate 3. part 2.

look at me - i’m not a monster.

stay back. i don’t want to hurt you, but i will.

no. you’re not one of them at all.

i was ready to run you through. my mistake, friend.

that’s far enough. what’s your business down here?

you revealed our location? that tongue gets any looser, (name), and i’ll cut it out.

reckon i might miss this place.

this place is more dangerous than i thought.

well, don’t you cut a fine figure.

sometimes i’m jealous of that girl. ugh - to feel so invincible again.

in your expert opinion, what’s the best way to kill a devil?

i’m certain there are answers out there. we’ll find them together.

there’s no story. none that you’re entitled to hear, anyway.

you can tolerate a great deal of suffering, so long as it has meaning.

until then, all i can do is endure.

please try to understand that it’s not something i can just talk about freely.

perhaps there’s potential in you.

honestly, your faith is your own concern. i won’t judge, one way or the other.

i think i did well by joining you.

you already know my biggest secrets. what more can you ask?

that wall’s an illusion! hiding what, i wonder …

sun, moon, and stars will still be there, waiting for us.

this place is pretty spectacular, isn’t it?

no book or painting could ever do its strange beauty justice.

a perfect ring of mushrooms … nature, or magic?

hmm. i thought that might’ve done something.

another illusion. is anything real down here?

i’m more concerned with this ‘twit’ who set a spectator on you.

a rival - a mere footnote to my legend. you should be more concerned with who i am.

the fools must have turned back. or, better yet, died in the search.

i need no more rivals. try to take this as a compliment, yes?

this presence … this magic is not divine, but fey.

little? i am a god! and i’m gonna rip you - tear you - wear you for a hat -

don’t do anything hasty, now.

i’ll just kill you and claim it for myself.

i’m the lord of murder - i’ll show you why.

if you’re expecting me to drop to my knees before you, forget it.

a wizard’s tower is his sanctum, a private place for research and respite. but as this wizard’s not home … i say we take a peek.

a strange place for a button. especially one that doesn’t work.

what good would it do for me to be troubled? we can’t save them all.

you’ll have to speak slowly. i find it quite difficult to concentrate with my condition gnawing at my insides like a teething displacer kitten.

the whole village is falling to pieces …

hey, maybe we can scare up a few dusty bottles of wine somewhere.

i like your way of thinking. split any takings we find?

what creatures live in water this dark?

i’m a rabid dirty dog. and i bite.

i could’ve killed you before you even noticed me, but i didn’t. stand down.

i can be discreet. no need for bloodshed.

share? you really are in the wrong place.

a bleeding heart, are you? reckon i’ll just roast and eat it.

what in the hells did you do to that corpse?

you do plenty for me, more than you realize. but this cannot be remedied.

are you alright? is there anything i can do to help you?

enough. bickering won’t save your friend.

run away, then.

(name) - i was so worried! did they hurt you?

who cares? we’re together now, thank gods!

i’m grateful, don’t mistake me, but … why help us?

freeze it, cock-stench. we aren’t done just yet.

pay up, and you get to skink away. resist, and i gut you.

drop it. i don’t owe you anything.

your incompetence has been my ruin.

stop! no more innocents will die today, (name).

you care for the weak. most curious.

you so much as touch me, and i’ll tear you from limb to limb.

ah - another treacherous soul walks among us.

i ain’t going down easy.

you been a shit since i laid eyes on you, (name).

strike him down. prove your faith.

your silence speaks to your heresy.

look, you have no idea what you’re dealing with …

it’s the whole damn reason we’re here, and i’m not leaving without it.

the mission comes first.

and i thought i’d heard it all. that’s some cambion-level deception.

i go where there’s shit to stir. and there’s no shortage of options.

i can’t remember much, truth be told.

centuries of torment will do that to you.

you’ve been naughty. and you know what happens when you’re naughty.

just who in the nine hells are you?

well, well. aren’t you a luscious thing?

been a long time since someone stuck their neck out for me like that.

you have a manner of irresistible desperation about you. i like it.

you know, i’ve been thinking. and i think there’s something i should tell you. nothing big or terrible, just … a small little detail about me that hasn’t come up naturally.

i want to join you - to fight by your side.

i’m sorry for barging in like this, but i had to come find you.

i won’t let you down. i promise.

we all have our burdens, one way or the other.

i’m trying to say that you’ve earned my trust in a way very few ever have … i want that to mean something.

freedom - i’d forgotten how it felt. thank you.

if you have a moment, i’d like your opinion on something.

the problem is this: a preponderance of evidence that i am a terrible adventurer.

i can’t risk re-capture. i barely escaped last time.

it was a mistake. and not one we’ll repeat.

i don’t know. he was kind of fun.

we can’t just invite danger in to our hearth like that. we must be more careful.

most monsters will think twice before making a meal of me.

an old hunter’s trick - if you can’t mask your scent, spoil it.

i prefer a weapon to stench, thanks.

you’re a monster hunter? not what i imagined.

whatever you’re hunting, your stench alone will kill it.

a quick wit is rare indeed.

know how to ask, and they’ll share that knowledge. if you’re fool enough to pay their price.

speak plainly. what is she?

i think you’re mistaken - this place looks innocent enough.

truth is like a blade, my friend. we can arm ourselves with it - or just as easily find it pressed against our throat.

i would not put you in danger.

your coyness is getting boring. tell me.

you take insult where none is intended, my friend.

how thoroughly invigorating it is to stand by one’s friend in the face of danger.

you best have one hells of an apology for me.

you must have mistaken me for someone else.

that wriggler swimming in your brain juice is a bit of an inconvenience, isn’t it?

that’s none of your concern.

don’t change the subject.

keep that hole under your nose shut.

let’s not involve ourselves in this place any longer than is necessary.

you want to play the hero so badly? fine. let’s make this interesting.

gods, it’s hot in here.

i’ve had better days. and worse ones.

i am, after all, the villain of the tale.

you truly are a soul that steels my own.

you are as thick as they come.

even i am tired of the sound of my own voice.

i stand at a precipice, but if you do not give up hope, neither shall i.

all of this … it must feel like a betrayal.

you bastard! you ruined it, you ruined everything!

slow down - what did i do?

this is an interesting way of thanking me.

i don’t need this. good luck getting out of here on your own.

i know i should head home, but … i can’t bring myself to leave.

(are you alright?) / not even a little bit. but i will be.

she favored me like a child favors a captive pet.

i promise i will not betray your trust.

i cannot thank you enough.

you will face (name)’s judgement.

i wish you could have visited at a better time.

you had no right to intervene.

you’re not one of us.

copper for your thoughts?

always a delight to speak to you.

did i play games like this in my youth? was i sweet once?

what are you doing? i’m busy here!

nothing beats the taste of stolen beer.

come on, now. they’re just having a bit of fun.

let’s do what we have to do, then get out of here.

smell’s like burnt flesh.

hold out your arm so i can mark your flesh.

i’m here to spill your guts across the floor.

pain without purpose is a terrible thing, wouldn’t you agree?

i often feel i like raw pain too much. it scares me.

as long as the story ends in death, it’s all the same to me.

forgive me, but - that look in your eyes. something terrible has happened to you.

what i see in your eyes, in your soul, is only natural.

we’ve all suffered in these dark times. it is little wonder you hear scars of pain and anguish.

touch me and you’ll lose your hand.

the pain you suffer will cleanse you - do not fight it.

you look tired. should i take over?

welcome the pain. let it become part of you.

that looks like it’s going to bruise.

not that i’m suggesting we stop for a drink, of course.

i wouldn’t want to place all my faith in blind luck.

sympathies won’t help me to survive.

your life, much like your words, is meaningless. end the latter to save the former.

looks like the booze got the better of them. they’re practically unconscious.

they’re dying for me. all of them.

why don’t you take a closer look? i’ll observe from back here.

please don’t open the creepy book!

toddlers are easier to please than you lot.

you know, i never pictured myself as a hero.

all i want is a little fun. is that so much to ask?

having performance issues, (name)?

never have i met such troglodytes.

i was hoping you wouldn’t notice i was gone.

i suggest we admire it from afar.

it would be too much to hope that’s nothing to do with us, wouldn’t it?

i go my own way - alone.

i’ll feed your innards to the ants before i do that.

[kikijackson-blog]

A Relaxing Day At The Beach

Readers 18+ Only

Summary: You spend a lazy day at the beach with the boys. Inspiration for this came from yet another Lana Del Rey song called Music To Watch Boys To. Hope you like. Mentions of Angel, Creeper, Coco, Gilly and Ez.

WARNINGS: Just some light language and naughtiness.

You dig your toes into the warm sand, the smell of the ocean and sounds of the waves crashing onto shore always took you to a special place, one of peace and tranquility. You could easily fall asleep, the ocean waves and songs of seagulls flying over the sky was like nature’s lullaby. On any other day you would have already dozed off but this day was not like any other day.

“Ey, watch what the fuck you doin’. You damn near knocked my beer out of my hand.” Gilly shouted to Coco who had bumped into him.

That was the third fight that had broken out in the half hour that you’d been here. Kids. It was like watching kids fighting over petty things. If it wasn’t one thing it was another. It’s like they look for any excuse to start shit, like they don’t know any other way, it’s all they’ve known you surmise. You put your headphones on, the ones with the flowers on them. You roll your eyes and hit play on your phone, the sounds of Smashing Pumpkins’ ‘Today’ flowing through your ears drowns out their shouts. No, there would be no peaceful napping on the beach today.

Still it was quit amusing watching them argue now that you couldn't hear them. Using body language and your knowledge of their individual personalities, you could imagine quite accurately what they were saying to each other or re-imagine what they were arguing about. You make a game of it, adding your own narrative to the scene.

“That ain’t my fault though. You shoulda had a better grip on it.” he grinned but Gilly wasn’t haven’t it. Gilly gets in his face and Coco bracing himself for a fight. 

You wonder how far this will go before someone intervenes. You always like to watch Coco get all worked up, he’s very… passionate. It often leaves the mind wondering if he’s that passionate in all things. It doesn’t take very long before Ez is there trying to break it up.

You look around and find Creeper hitting on a random girl he just met, or at least attempting to in his own way. Large breasted and nearly half his age, the woman was clearly out of his league but he was either oblivious or didn’t care. Wild horses couldn’t drag away Creeper’s confidence. He’s showing her all his battle wounds. You wonder as he points to one in particular why he thinks that would actually work but it does. The girl’s face softens up and you could almost hear the ‘ay, poor baby.’ as she traces one of his scars. He of course is all smiles reminiscent of a kid in a candy shop. Oh he is trying to fill his bag with sweets today.

He tried that on you once but it hadn’t work. You had just snickered and said, “well maybe next time don’t get shot.” That had led the entire club in an uproar of cackles and ribbing on Creeper but he didn’t care. If it had bothered him it did not show one bit. He’d just smiled innocently at you, “that’s okay y/n, one day you’ll change your mind and I promise I won’t mock you when you do but I might make you beg for it.”

You turn your attention to the ocean but it's not the waves that have caught your eye. It’s the tall dark haired man walking out of the water that you are drawn to. Beads of salt water trickling down his body, you count each one only to lose count as a new one falls down. One particular drop catches your gaze and you follow it down to his abs. You’ve heard of washboard abs but your curious as a kitten mind questions if you could actually wash your delicates on it. A naughty smile creeps across your face as you imagine yourself washing your panties on those abs while still wearing them, you bite down on your lower lip to hide it and begin singing along to distract yourself from your own fantastically kinky thoughts. 

The drop you’ve been following takes its painfully slow time to make its way down, further down, way down until it reaches its final destination, the very edge of his black swimsuit. Leave it to Angel to be wearing speedos. Unaware that you were even still gawking you let out an audible gasp loud enough to both snap you out of the most delicious thoughts and get the others’ attention but you paid no mind. Angel’s eyes were on you now and there was a storm brewing there, a dangerous one. One of amusement, desire and lots of mischief.

“You like what you see, babygirl.” It was a statement not a question. Like he knew he was that hot, like he knew if he just reached between your legs he’d find your bikini bottoms soaked. That ego and the confidence of this man was through the roof.

“Yes, Daddy.” You answer in your sweet good girl voice.

Oh yes there was definitely a storm coming, one that promised to fulfill all unspoken fantasies, even those you’ve never acknowledged to yourself.

**********************************

More Angel? Yes, I'll have some!

[brandyllyn]

Silk from their soul (22)

The Ghoul / Cooper Howard x f!reader [no use of y/n]

Rated: E (Dirty talk, PIV) Words: 1.6k Summary: Make me immortal

Series Masterlist My Masterlist

They ain’t watching him near as close as they oughta.

It’s been four days of cross-country trekking, and by his count they couldn’t be more than another day or two from the Stateline. Any moment now they were liable to run into some patrol and while this bunch were treating him like a colleague it was anyone’s guess what Nero’s own crew might do.

His time was running out.

Unfortunately, they were keeping double watch now - one person always watching her and the other keeping a more general eye on things. It made taking them by surprise difficult, and they weren’t quite stupid enough to arm him.

Tonight was the first exception. They’d made camp in an old building that happened to have working doors. After a pretty thorough check they’d locked her inside, tied to some piece of the structure.

“I hear fellas like you can live a long time,” Sancho says after some time passes. His name weren’t Sancho but Cooper hadn’t been arsed to learn his name the first time around and he wasn’t starting now.

“Depends on what you think is long.”

“I heard of a guy who’s been alive since before the bombs fell,” Panza chimes in. Panza isn’t his favorite, he’s the one who hit her. He’s going to die soon - he just doesn’t know it yet.

“Ain’t no one been around that long,” Sancho scoffs.

Cooper barely pays them any attention, staring into the small fire. Well, past it actually, where the youngest of the three had disappeared not ten minutes ago.

It’s been dead silent since. He’s not sure he’d even be able to hear them talking, but he’s pretty sure he could hear her if she screamed. That door wouldn’t do jack shit to stop him if she did.

“You know we ain’t sharing the bounty, right?” Panza asks with a small frown. “Ain’t nothing against you, ghoul. Just that three’s two too many already if you ask me.”

Cooper cuts his eyes the man’s direction. “I ain’t looking for the bounty - hoping I might be able to find more work. Something to do. Getting bored out here with you shitheads.”

The man laughs just as Cooper intended. “Well that’ll be-”

The door slams open and the Kid stomps out, clutching the water and the small bag of rations. “She says she don’t want nothin’.”

“What do you mean… tell her she ain’t got a choice. She ain’t eaten since she tried to run off.”

“I tried that, but you said-”

Cooper’s on his feet already, seeing the opportunity and taking it. “I’ll do it.” The trio eye him skeptically and he cocks his head at them. “She trusts me. ‘Sides, this way you only got one thing to guard.”

None of them trusted him, which was fair, and he’d slept like a baby even as he listened to the racing heartbeat of whoever had been assigned watch the last few nights. He was counting on lack of sleep being a helluva persuader.

“Nah, you’re right. We’ll unlock you in the morning.”

Perfect.

Cooper waits for the door to close, adjusting his eyes to the dim light from above. The room is solid walls with a dirt floor, the only point of entrance the gaping hole in the ceiling and the woman tied to a post in its center.

“Brought you some vittles.”

“I said I wasn’t hungry.”

“You need to put some food in your system or you won’t make it to the Stateline.”

She looks up at him, eyes wide and sad and it’s a kick to the gut. “When will we get there?”

“Tomorrow, I reckon. Maybe the day after.”

She nods thoughtfully and rests her head on her folded arms once more. The ropes around her ankles shift slightly as she moves and he maneuvers carefully to sit beside her, leaning back against the same rock.

“If you plan to starve yourself to death you’re going to need more time.”

She laughs softly, “Not sure I even could. With how I heal and all.”

He considers that for a moment and passes her the water. After a long moment she takes it, gulping it down before handing it back. “Reckon tonight is our best chance to get free.”

“I don’t think-” she starts and he turns on her sharply. When he doesn’t say anything she continues, “I think I have to go, actually.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? After all this fuss you’re just going to give in?”

If looks could kill he’d be a pile of ash. “I have to put a stop to this - to more people like me and assholes like him buying them.”

“Ah,” he says softly. “So this is a vengeance mission.”

“You got a problem with that?”

“Not a bit, I’ve been on a fair few in my time.” He passes her some food and she eyes it before nibbling on the edge. “The problem is those kinds of journeys tend to be one way.” She shrugs and it makes something in his chest hurt. “Now darlin’, you’re not thinking what I think you’re thinking.”

“I’ll do what I have to,” she pauses, then gives him a sidelong glance, “anything I have to.” Suddenly she turns to him fully, those gorgeous eyes of hers shining in the moonlight. “You think we’ll get there tomorrow?”

“Or the next day, it ain’t far now.”

She nods, biting her lip. And then she’s in motion. Before he can think. Before he can block her. Before he can do anything - she’s in his lap, throwing her arms over his head, and she’s kissing him.

She’s kissing him.

Whatever the danger is, it’s too late now. He sinks into it, wrapping an arm around her waist and reaching one hand up to clutch at her shoulder. Her tongue is everywhere, licking along his lips and teeth and he meets her with equal fervor. It lasts so long he runs out of breath, breaking away with a gasp and staring into her eyes.

He waits.

Nothing happens.

No light-headedness. No burning. No neurotoxin or chemical or anything at all in fact. Hell, other than a raging hard-on he feels exactly the same.

She looks dazed, blinking up at him before pulling him back for another kiss.

He ain’t ever been one to tell a lady no.

He guides her legs over his hips, settling her in his lap while she tries to suck his soul out of his mouth. Everything is hot and wet and he can feel her through his pants, soaking the fabric.

“Ah sweetheart,” he groans, slipping his hand under her panties to cup her ass. She grinds down in return, rocking on top of him in a mimicry of exactly what he wants as well.

“Lift up,” he tells her, “let me get these off of you.”

She does as he says, coming to her knees and letting him pull her panties down til they hang on one ankle.

“Tell me you want this,” he growls, licking into her mouth. “Tell me to fuck you, just like this.”

“I want it,” she nearly sobs, fingers digging into the back of his neck, “Fuck me, fuck me just like this.”

They moan together when he slides inside. It’s just as he remembers, tight and hot and so unbelievably good his eyes roll back in his head. Her mouth is everywhere, sucking on his neck, licking up to his ear, teeth biting at his lips. He tries to slow her down, to guide her with a hand on the nape of her neck, but she digs her fingernails into the back of his head and he lets her take the lead.

Lets her take him.

Everything is gasping softness, breaths mingling as they pant into each other’s mouths. He brings his hand around to cup her jaw, urging her to take his tongue. To give hers in return. And the entire time she’s moving on top of him, clutching him inside her.

“Ah fuck darlin’,” he groans. “I ain’t gonna last. Can you come like this?”

“Maybe,” she gasps in return. “I don’t know.”

He moves his hands to her waist, guiding her body into slow undulating rolls. “What do you need?”

“Make me,” she moans, pulling him in for another kiss, “tell me what to do. Make me yours.”

A low growl rumbles from his chest and he shifts so he can get his knees under him. Now he has power behind his thrusts, fucking up into her and touching something so deep it makes her whimper. 

“That’s it, fuck yourself on me,” he tells her. “And when I tell you to you’re going to come. Ain’t that right?” She nods, mouth open on his cheek and he grins. “That’s a good girl.”

One hand claws at the front of her dress and she helps him, moving her arms so he can shove it down and watch her breasts bounce with every roll of his hips. He covers one with his hand, catching the nipple between two fingers and pinching it hard.

“Come for me, come all over my cock.”

She does. Oh how she does. She screams and he cuts her off with his mouth, swallowing it down and feeling her pussy milking him so hard he comes too. Spilling inside and filling her up just like he’d been thinking of doing since the first moment he saw her on that damned radio tower.

Only he had never imagined that she would kiss him so sweetly afterwards. That she would pull bound wrists from behind his neck and cup his face in her hands and fucking make love to his mouth with the gentlest of nibbles and sweeps of her tongue.

“Again?” she asks once she catches her breath. Her mouth covers his and he can barely think straight as she licks inside.

Yeah. Sure. Again. Anything she wants. Always.

☢ ☢ ☢

For updates follow and turn on notifications for @brandyllyn-writes

[phntmeii]

♡ Dating Hobie Brown Headcanons

❝ I'm not a role model, I was briefly a runway model. I hate the AM, I hate the PM, I hate labels, I'm not a hero, because calling yourself a hero makes you a self-mythologizing narcissistic autocrat.❝

[ SFW + No Gendered Terms]

A/N: I can't believe it took me so long to get around to this man since he's broken me since the movie released. Will be clawing at the doors of the studio for more Hobie screentime. Also, sorry it’s been a bit since the last headcanon list. Classes and shit :(

✖ Off the bat, I'm sorry to say but Hobie would not consider what you two do as "dating". He doesn't like labels and being called someone's partner is too constricting of a box.

✖ Now that doesn't mean he isn't loyal. He's actually extremely loyal. The moment he is attracted to someone, everyone else fades away from his vision and it's just you.

✖ The only time he'd label the two of you as "partners" was if someone else showed interest in you. If someone casually asked, then no, you two are just hanging out. But if that person was interested in you, Hobie is like:

✖ "Actually, bruv, sorry to say but they're already with me. So, unfortunately, your eyes need to look elsewhere, yeah?"

✖ Pavitr is the equivalent of your pseudo-child/third-wheel. You two pay for his food, give him advice on him and Gayatri, and have him backseat on drives.

✖ Hobie is more of a listener than a talker. He likes to hear about your fixations and interests. His eyes stare at you with a small grin when he hears the moment you become totally excited in talking about your interests.

✖ And it doesn't matter what you're interested in, Hobie learns about it in his own time so he knows what you're talking about with more of an understanding.

✖ While Hobie may seem to not be paying attention sometimes, he actually had quite a good memory and simply pretends to forget when it comes to other people or if it's one of Miguel's orders.

✖ But with you, every word is ingrained into his memory and you'd be surprised that things you told him a long time ago are still present in his mind if something reminds him of it.

✖ He’ll be more than happy to lend some of his things to you! So long as he can do the same with you. If it’s clothing or something, he has specific pieces that are dedicated to himself so he won’t let them be taken from him. If you’re insistent though, he’ll simply make another one for you (with some design choices specifically attuned to you)!

✖ Hobie is very chill when it comes to his partner. He’s not an overly jealous type nor an overprotective one. He has full trust in you to make your own decisions.

✖ Absolutely acts as though his interests are commonplace and fakes surprise when you say you haven’t been exposed to that thing before.

✖ “You wot? Whadja mean you ain’t ever heard of (insert obscure indie film with a $1k budget)? It’s a classic, love, trust. You’ll love it.” It was in fact not one you loved and it was in 144p on a pirated site.

✖ Sometimes Hobie will scare the shit out of you by popping up out of nowhere. You’ll just go to the kitchen to get a snack, come back to your bedroom and Hobie is just chilling at your desk even though he wasn’t there two minutes ago.

✖ Because of his calm nature, he’s actually really good at comfort. If you feel overwhelmed or panicked, Hobie sets you down and calmly grounds you back to reality.

✖ He offers his hands, gently rubbing his thumbs on the back of your hands, and speaks in a calm voice. Once you’ve calmed, he’ll have a sweet smile.

✖ “Welcome back, love… C’mere. You’re alright. M’right here, love.”

✖ Hobie's main Love Languages to give are: Gift Giving and Physical Touch.

✖ Hobie loves to make gifts for you especially if you show interest in his style or anything he owns!

✖ He tends to be possessive over his own things so he'll make you a copy or your own version! Even if it's something time-consuming like making your own version of a vest or garbage pants, he loves spending time to do it if he gets to see the look on your face because of it.

✖ Because he has a massive collection of pins, patches, etc. he'll often hand some to you if he thinks you'll like them.

✖ Hobie's one indication of a "public claim" on you would be a gifted necklace that his guitar pick. On the back, he signed it as "H♡ ".

✖ This man is sly with physical touch. It's purposeful in a way to have you blushing and stuttering.

✖ He especially does it if you are in conversation with someone else just to watch you squirm. Something as simple as passing his hand at the small of your back just to see you fight back a blush or smile has him on cloud nine since he's the only one who can do that to you.

✖ Hobie also loves to rest his chin on top of your head. He'll do it anytime you two are standing around and he just wants to be closer to you.

✖ Hobie's favorite Love Languages to receive are: Quality Time and Words of Affirmation.

✖ There's nothing sweeter to Hobie than seeing his SO go out of their way to make time for him. He may tease about it. Something along the lines of: "Couldn't get enough a' me, hm?" but he really is so honored that you'd want to spend time with him.

✖ He can sometimes disappear at random when he’s on his duty. Coming back to see you in his room has him tearing off his suit and just holding onto you. There’s nothing more comforting than a simple relaxing time in bed with you with low lighting and music playing.

✖ Hobie is an intelligent musician. Words mean everything and the way they are strung together mean more.

✖ You can swear that you’ve never seen Hobie get flustered but Hobie knows how his heart melts at your words.

✖ His favorites are when you give him letters or send songs. He’ll read the letters over and over and read into the lyrics of the song continually.

✖He also loves hearing you compliment him as it gives him reason to turn up his own charm in response.

⤷ divider credits: @cafekitsune

[peachdues]

DYLANNN. DYLAN NO. DYLANNNN.

“Who owns it?”

Kaigaku shrugs. “Some overseas corporation. They made their billions selling weapons to armed militias and underground groups in other countries that then took power.”

Uzui whistles through his teeth. “Ain’t that how it always goes?”  

The dark-haired boy nods. “Seems like they’ve got storage all over the place – mainly in countries they know won’t sanction ‘em even if the regimes they arm turn out to be shit.”

“Or pay to keep their own fat cats in power.” Sanemi quips darkly.

Kaigaku flashes him a sly grin. “We oughta help lighten their load a bit. Gotta be hard to keep track of all that steel.”

Sanemi doesn’t return the boy’s smile, too off-put by the way his teeth seem rounded and sharp in the dingy light of the basement. “Place like this has to be teeming with security. How’re we supposed to get in unseen? Or at least enough that we can neutralize any interference?”

Kaigaku leans forward and shuffles through the blueprints until he pulls out an old, water-stained sheet. “According to the old building plans, there’s a basement. That’s probably where they keep the bulk of the goods.”

He runs a finger along a sketched path. “This is a delivery channel – it’s like an underground tunnel that runs up. Connects to an emergency exit. A truck could back up to it, and someone can run crates. Load it right into the back.”

Sanemi studies the blueprint for a long while, his eyes looking for any obstacles, any potential flaw that could leave them open to attack. But, he finds that as loathe as he is to admit it, the boy’s plan is surprisingly sound.

If at least two or three of their ranks could work the basement, then they could conceivably fill up a truck with the loot and slip out without being caught. And even if they were, by Kaigaku’s own intel, the security wouldn’t be nearly as tight as it might be if the warehouse was fully operational.  

Really, the benefits outweighed whatever marginal risk there was. And, judging by the increase in violence from the Kizukis, the Corps would need all the extra metal they could get their hands on to prepare for the inevitable war that loomed on the blooded horizon.  

Sanemi turns his attention to his junior. “Tell Iguro we need a cab. Whatever they’ve got in storage, clean it out. If you think you can’t split away clean, take a handful of Kinoe and get them to put down as much C4 in the basement as we can take. Get out and send that shack sky-high.”

“Big boom like that will have the place swarming with cops in no time.” Uzui points out. “You’ll have to be quick – I give you ten minutes, tops. Probably less.”

“But an explosion will cover up any trace of us.” Sanemi counters. “Plus, a warehouse stuffed full of live ammo? Not beyond the realm of possibility that it’s holding explosives in there, too. Could look like an unavoidable accident.”

“What about cover?” A dark-haired Junior speaks up, voice shaking, but eyes determined.

Sanemi turns to Kaigaku. “Will we need a sniper?”

The boy chews on his bottom lip for a moment as his eyes scan the blueprints scattered across the table. “Nah,” he decides after a moment. “That warehouse has been gatherin’ dust for at least a year. Security guards likely will be armed, but they won’t have nothin’ more powerful than a handgun. Should be easy enough to take out, if it comes to it.”

Sanemi cuts his eyes back to the two Juniors. “One Pillar should go. This seems too big a job to leave to a bunch of rookies.”

Uzui raises an eyebrow. “You volunteering?”

“Your ass sure as shit won’t. Not on a Friday night.”  

The silver-haired Pillar taps a single finger to his nose and winks. “And it’ll be payday for the Business District. My joints are gonna be full of big spenders.”

“Then I guess I’m on.” Sanemi says smoothly, folding his arms across his chest. “We’ll meet here Friday evening. Ten o’clock.”

🤐🤐🤐

[alittlebitofloveliness]

Outsiders Prompt Fic #11- "This ain't my first rodeo kid"

This one was requested by @whitemanswh0re3 who requested prompt 10 for Tim Shepard. I had a lot of fun with this one, and got to include some Curly and Angela shenanigans so I hope y'all enjoy!

****************

Tim should have known better.

His first mistake was forgetting to hide ma’s liquor bottles before she woke up that morning. His second was paying more attention to Manuel’s report on their business with the Brumly boys than to his pissed off little sister, and his third was leaving the twins alone for more than five minutes without adequate supervision.

This is his fault, but all Angela’s doing. She’s mad at him so now she's getting even, and shit he’s gonna have a miserable night isn’t he? He should have known better. She’s not one to mess with. He supposes it’s his own fault- he raised her to take no shit, but honestly, she's not supposed to turn his teachings against him. She’d wanted his attention before and he’d ignored her, so now she’d gone and made it impossible for him to ignore her a second longer.

“Timmy!” Ma’s eyes are jewel bright, the booze making her happy before the comedown makes her mad. That’s fine. That’s par for the course. “Carinõ, come sit with us.”

He takes in the scene in front of him. Bottles and powders- familiar evidence of Ma’s debauchery- covering every surface, his baby brother on the floor, half hidden behind the couch, his little sister bleary eyed and all but collapsed into Ma’s side. 

“Come sit with us,” he can hear the deadly disbelief in his voice, “Come sit with us? With you and my seven year old baby siblings you let get drunk with you?”

She scoffs at him. Actually scoffs. 

“They’ve only had a sip or two, they’re fine.”

He should have known something like this would happen the minute Angel started sucking up to Ma. Angela hates Ma. Of course she had ulterior motives. How could he be so stupid?

“They! Are! Seven! Years! Old!” He all but howls, “You shouldn’t have given them any! Jesus Christ woman, I know you decided not to be our mother but you could at least use some goddamn common sense! You don’t give children alcohol for fucks sakes.”

“Angel wanted some.” She’s petulant, like a scolded child, and Tim hates that he’s stuck raising her right along with his siblings. 

“Angel wants a lotta things, and at least half of them will kill her,” he levels a glare at his sister, who doesn’t seem to really hear him before turning back to Ma “she’s gotta learn the meanin’ of no and you bet your ass I’m gonna teach it to her just as soon as I make sure they ain’t gonna die of alcohol poisonin’ because of you.”

Ma doesn’t look ashamed. She never does, never once feels guilty when she should no matter what she’s done or how much she’d hurt them. Nothing is ever her fault, not when she didn't buy enough food to feed them when they were little, not when she forgot they existed and left for a week when she went on a bender, not when her boyfriends beat on him and Curly or got too friendly with Angela. To Maria, nothing is ever her fault. Letting the twins go hog wild on her Jose Cuervo won’t be any different. She’ll blame him or fate or her piece of shit ex husband, if all else fails she’ll call it an accident but she’ll never admit that it’s all her fault. Her fault for never getting to know her children as more than dolls to play with when she's bored, her fault for giving up on mothering when he was four and never trying again, even when she had new babies, her fault for being so pathetically broken she doesn’t know- or worse just doesn’t care- what giving free access to her poison of choice could do to children who are already too used to numbing their pain in any way they can find.

He hates her. He hates her so much. 

Curly is sprawled across the floor by the couch, glassy eyed and babbling to himself. The kid already never shuts up and whatever poison Ma had given him seems to have cut off his filter altogether. It don’t matter that no ones listening to him- Curly’s off in his own little world, entertaining himself. He’s a lonely kid, Tim’s seen it, seen how he’s always a bit too strange, a bit too callous, a bit too wild to every truly fit in- he supposes it’s good the kid has learned to entertain himself. Even still, he hates seeing it like this. 

“What did they have?” he grits through a mask of forced calm. He’ll deal with Ma later. For now, the kids have to come first, and per usual he's the only one around willing to recognize that. “How much did you give them?”

“Really Timmy, I don’t know what you’re all up in arms about, my mama got me started early-”

“-Look how well that turned out for you, huh?” He sneers, glad to see her flinch. “Now I ain’t gonna ask you again: how much did they have and what exactly did you give them?”

“They been sippin’ from my bottle with me,” she holds up her good old Jose Cuervo bottle that Tim wants to smash against the fucking wall, “and I think Angel stole a bite or two of brownie when my back was turned.”

“She got into the grass?”

“It ain’t my fault! They’re devils, both of them. They wouldn’t listen to me when I said it wasn’t for kids, she just wanted sweets!”

“Fuck!” He kicks the beat up coffee table sending empties crashing to the floor, “fuck!”

“If they get proper sick from this,” he whirls on Maria, jabbing a finger in her direction and she cringes back. He knows he looks like Pa when he’s mad like this, it’s why usually he fights so hard to keep his temper under control. RIght now though, he doesn’t much care if he reminds her of him. Let her be scared. He hopes she feels even half the terror he’s feeling right now. “If I gotta take them to the ER or Curly chokes on his own puke or Angel finds she’s got a taste for the good stuff at seven fucking years old- I swear to god I will kill you. So you better pray they’re alright.”

She swallows, suddenly quiet and the only noise in the room is Curly’s incessant babbling, but Tim doesn’t drop eye contact and she must know he means it because without another word she rises from the couch, and stumbles down the hall closing the door of her room behind her with a snap. 

Tim sighs. One problem dealt with, two to go, one of whom is having a conversation with the ceiling and the other of which seems fascinated by the feeling of the couch cushion against her cheek. 

Jesus Christ.

The twins have always been small, wiry and wild as any feral animal, and he fears it’s yet another disadvantage working against them tonight, as the alcohol and the weed is bound to do a lot more damage to their systems than it would to anyone actually old enough to be playing with substances. However, their is one advantage to them being small that Tim learned very early on to use to his advantage, and that’s this: he can still manage to pick them both up at once.

He scoops Angie up first, fixing her nightgown which has gotten twisted around her neck, and she rests her head on his shoulder, but apart from that doesn’t give any indication that she knows who he is or what’s going on. She gets like this sometimes anyway, quits talking and gets real blank looking so he can’t really tell if it’s the weed hitting her hard or not. Curly on the other hand, grins as soon as he sees him and doesn’t stop talking for even a second as Tim settles him on his hip and starts carrying them down the hall to their bedroom. They should’ve been asleep ages ago, and they’ll probably crash soon regardless, but it isn’t gonna offer him any sort of peace now is it, not when he’s gonna have to wake up every hour to check that they’re still breathing. 

“...an’ mama’s friend Mark came over for a bit an’ I think he’s mean but mama said we had to be nice or we’d have to go away again and then Angela stole her brownie and didn’t even share with me e’en though I gave her an easter chocklit and then mama got mad at us for fighting so she said I could have more of her special drink so it was fair but her special drink hurt my mouth but I got in trouble for spittin’ it out an’ Mark belted me a goodun’ so I had to swallow all of it-”

“Curly,” Tim cut him off firmly. That’s how he always has to do stuff with the kid. Firm. Otherwise Curly don’t pay attention long enough to listen to anything, “what do you mean that bastard belted you?”

“He hit me,” Curly told him simply, and Tim hated how matter of fact he sounded. No seven year old should sound so blase about being smacked, “a goodun’ in the back, but I didn’t cry ‘cause I know you wouldn’t an’ I’m tough like you so I just glared at him and called him a motherfucker like you woulda-”

“Curly, let me see your back.”

He eased the kid’s t-shirt over Curly’s scrawny shoulders, feeling a new spike of rage at the hand shaped purple bruise blooming across Curly's shoulder. That asshole. Tim was gonna hunt him down and give him a taste of his own medicine. He’d learn not to mess with a Shepard ever again, and maybe he’d learn a lesson about beating little kids too.

“You did good kid,” Tim told him, fixing Curly’s t-shirt, “that bastard ain’t gonna take a swing at you again, y’hear?”

“I’ll beat him up if he tries. You can help,” Curly offers magnanimously, “you’re real good at beatin’ people up. I bet me’n you could beat up anyone if we tried. Even a football player soc.”

“Even a football player soc.” Tim agrees, hating the softness that’s welling in his chest. He’s supposed to be angry at them- they’re big enough to know they aren’t supposed to talk to Ma if he isn’t around and he’s had the talk about not eating or drinking anything Ma gives them more than once- but it’s hard when the booze has made Curly so sweet, and Angel so cuddly, curled into his lap. They’ll be grumpy tomorrow, sick and sore, and hopefully that’ll teach them a lesson, but for now he figures he can afford to be a little extra nice to them. After all, it doesn’t sound like Ma or latest her boyfriend had been earlier.

“Angel’s bein’ real quiet doncha think?” Curly really couldn’t shut up if his life depended on it. Tim just hums, shifting so he’s leaning against the wall, Angela in his lap and Curly leaning into his side. “She says that brownie made her feel all floaty and thet talkings making her sick, but that drink made my head cloudy too and I don’t feel sick so I thought it was maybe an al-er-gic reaction like Saide Thomason had at school except I made her blow on my hand and  could feel the air so I guess she’s still breathing, which is good because I don’t want Angel to stop breathin’.”

He pats her cheek none too gently but Angela doesn’t seem to mind, offering him a dopey smile,far less guarded than her usual one. Yeah, she’s real out of it, but Curly’s assessment seems to ring true, and Tim thinks she’ll be ok.

“Angel’s my best friend, did you know?” Curly informs him, before looking down at his twin sister, “You’re my best friend Angel, even though you are plain old mean sometimes. It’s ok though ‘cause I am too sometimes, and usually you’re just mean ‘cause you're sad, and I figure that’s alright. Ponyboy says you should try not to be mean ever but he also called Dillon an asshole at recesss yesterday so he’s a hyp- hypo-critter or whatever it’s called when you’re a big dirty liar-”

Curly’s mouth was still spilling words at warp speed but his eyes were starting to droop, and Tim figured he’d talk himself to sleep pretty soon. Angel had already nodded off a minute ago, and the even breaths puffing out of her mouth between snores reassured him she was doing alright and wasn’t gonna overdose the way he’d been worried about since Ma let slip she’d got ahold of that brownie. Was he still gonna wait up to make sure? Obviously, but at least there wasn’t panicky tension thrumming under his skin anymore.

Curly dropped off to sleep exactly the way Tim knew he would, cutting himself off mid sentence and slumping against him. Tim sighed, waiting a minute to make sure he was truly out before carefully shifting him so he was curled up beside Angela, head tilted so he wouldn’t choke if he threw up in his sleep. Tim climbed off the bed, making sure not to jostle either of them lest he accidentally wake them up. Angel was blitzed outta her mind, and Curly had drunk himself into a near stupor, but he still wasn’t about to risk it.

He dragged Curly’s mattress across the room so he was right next to them when they inevitably woke up fussy, and quickly fell into a fitful doze.

He jerked awake an hour later, and after checking to make sure both kids were still sound asleep and triple checking they were breathing ok, fell back onto his own mattress.

The next time he wakes it’s to the sound of whimpering. 

Internally cursing and blinking blearily he sits up to see Curly twisted in the blankets, hair flat on one side and eyes welling with unshed tears.

“Tim?” Curly sounds very small, “I don’t feel good.”

“Ok kid,” Tim sighs, swinging Curly into his arms and carrying him down to the bathroom, “it’s alright. This is just what happens when you drink Ma’s special drinks.”

“I don't wanna be sick,” Curly whines, a dangerous wobble in his voice, “I didn’t even like her special drink.”

Tim really, really can’t handle the waterworks right now.

“It’s alright kid, just let yourself throw up and you’ll feel better.”

Curly does, managing to get the whole mess in the bowl and isn’t that a fucking miracle since usually the bathroom looks like a crime scene whenever the twins get sick. Tim rubs his back, pushing his curls out of his face until he’s sure Curly’s done, then wets a corner of the hand towel with water and uses it to wipe his baby brother’s face.

“You’re real good at this,” Curly mumbles, already half asleep as Tim carries him back to bed.

“Yeah,” Tim agrees quietly, pressing a soft kiss to the sleeping kid’s forehead as he lays him next to Angela, “this ain’t my first rodeo kid.”

Curly snuffles a little, loud even in sleep, and  Angela somehow managed to headbut him in the shoulder and toss an arm over his shoulders without waking up.

Tim regards them both a second longer, watches their chests rise and fall- breathing, alive, safe, if only for the moment, and drops back onto his own mattress for the night.

He'll be here when they wake up, but for now he’s gonna get some much needed sleep.

[c0rvusx2]

Wolf-ji 🤡

Toji x fem!reader

18+: Toji being a perv, swearing, described nudity I think. Somewhat creepy ig, he likes watching you do stuff. No smut, but it’s kinda spicy. Use of 2nd POV (you, your) rather than 3rd (she,her).

Notes: Keep in mind that he has the mind of a human, so don’t take it wrong 🤝 This man is my brain rot 🤤 lmk if I need to raise the age warning

Genre: Fluff/Crack, spicy idk

Toji had no fucking clue where he was. He expected hell to be… a lot less looking like a city alleyway. He tried to lift himself, rather than feeling like his legs they were bent at an uncomfortable looking angle. Pain flared in his left arm, he bent his head to see a bullet wound, a nasty one that kept on bleeding.

“The fuck?” He stretched as best he could, looking around for some sort of item that would give him his reflection. Luckily, there was a abandoned mirror, cracked and without purpose. Toji began to limp over to the reflector, his legs stiff rather than it’s normal nimble movements.

“Oh fuckin’ hell-“

Okay, so maybe going grocery shopping late at night might be a bad idea—especially since there’ll be all sorts of creeps walking around. Not to mention it’s freezing out there, but it’s too late. You’ve already stepped out of the store and onto the empty sidewalk, and if this was the Wild West there’d be tumble weeds rolling from view. You shiver, beginning your journey back to the safe confines of your home.

The store you frequented was your favorite, and the farthest… so to save time you’d take shortcuts through alleyways. Today would be the first time you were doing it late at night.

You stare into the darkness of the passageway in front of you, anxiety bubbling in your stomach. “Quick… nice and quick…” you hype yourself up before storming ahead, using a quick pace to get you to the other side. The deeper you went, the darker it became and soon the only thing illuminating the alley was the clouded moonlight from above.

From ahead of you, you suddenly see a pair of eyes, gazing right back at you with a stern emerald green color.

You screamed as the eyes began to rapidly get closer, accompanied by the sounds of claws hitting against the ground. You dodged, reversing yourself and pressing your back to the alleyway’s wall. A harsh tug came from your grocery bag, which almost ripped your arm right off your torso. Muffled growling came from the creature that was trying to steal your food. Luckily, you recognized the creature that was attacking you, it was some dumb dog.

This made you enraged and frustrated, this shit costed you a good chunk of the money saved from the leftovers after you payed bills—and the bills around here ain’t cheap.

“Bitch!-“

🌌

Toji is one lucky bastard. Perhaps this was god giving him a 2nd chance at life- their weird way of dishing out redemption.

Somehow, he was able to worm his way into the chick-he-was-about-to-rob’s heart. Life’s good for the man-turned-wolf, he’s got free food, a roof to live under, and no rent to pay. A bargain in his mind. The only downside being he won’t be able to fuck around anymore, and he sure as hell is NOT gonna fuck a dog.

You felt bad for the dog, the moment you saw it’s form when you scrambled out the alleyway. It wasn’t scrawny, but it wasn’t very lean either. It had a scar present on the right side of it’s mouth, sharp green eyes and dirty matte black fur. It sustained a limp arm, a recent wound most likely the reason why it didn’t go all out on you.

You couldn’t really just walk away from a hurt animal, the guilt would eat you up the moment you turned your back. You were also studying to be a vet, moments like this were what you meant for. So you left some food, ran home to fetch a med kit, and returned with your car.

Here you were now, caring for one big ass dog who kept stealing your food—even though you bought him his own food.

You named him Toji, mainly because that scar on the dogs mouth was hella familiar to the Toji you fawned over in Jujutsu Kaisen. He looked at you weirdly when you said that, but snorted a moment later and stalked off to your TV set.

The strange thing about him was that he apparently knew how to operate cable TV, which amazed you yet weirded you out at the same time.

You noticed Toji naps a lot, and wakes up whenever you turn on Netflix. He’ll eagerly sit next to you, sometimes snacking (read stealing) popcorn whenever you make some.

For some reason he likes tuning in whenever you play any anime episodes, especially Jujutsu Kaisen. Whenever Fushiguro comes onto screen Toji’s fluffy tail begins to wag a bit, which you giggle at. He’ll catch you looking and snap at you, which causes you to furthermore laugh at. In the end he’ll end up tackling you onto the couch.

🌌

Toji often feels bored in your household. Nothing really for him to do since he’s apparently a dog now. Nothing to do other than follow you into the bathroom whenever you’re going to shower, keeping a keen eye on every curve of your body. Nothing to do other than watch the fat of your ass lower into his view when you have to bend over to clean up a mess you of him might’ve made.

Nothing to do other than create smutty fantasies of you in his head from when he was human, imagining what your cute little moans would sound like with you under him. Nothing to do other than watch your tits bounce whenever you two go out for a jog in the early morning. Nothing to do other than take a nap between your legs, resting his head on your stomach or between your breast whenever he can. Nothing to do but wish your pretty lips were wrapped around his cock instead of that popsicle you were sucking on a hot summer day.

Toji was a lucky bastard. And lucky bastards get what they want.

🌌

“Toji? Toooojiiii, breakfast! Where’d the hell you go?” You called out, turning the house upside down as you looked for him.

“Toji?” The only place you haven’t looked was the guest bathroom, and currently the door was closed shut. You could hear shuffling from inside, which made you wonder how the dog could’ve closed the door. Without warning, you swiftly pulled open the door.

“What’s going on in her-“ You stopped mid sentence, mouth agape at the figure who stood in front of your bathroom’s vanity. You both stared each other down, your eyes blown wide open while his were glued to yours without emotion. It was a stare down for what seemed like ages, until the familiar man broke the silence.

“What?”

You screamed, and you wished it was without the s because it was embarrassing. He flinched at your volume and seemed to disappear for millisecond, only to return right in front of you, hand on your mouth.

“Jesus Christ- I know you’re a loud mouthed brat but now’s not the time to scream yer’ lungs out,” He huffed, “You can do that later,” The man smirked, you could feel your face flush a bit. After a sec, he hesitantly let go of your mouth. Your mouth was left agape again as Hulu blinked wildly in disbelief at the hulking man in front of you.

“I- wait a fucking second… where’s my dog!?” The man just deadpanned at you, you took this time to eye him up and down. His skin tight shirt had a massive part of it missing on it’s left side, dark splotches of blood surrounding it. The familiar man, however, seemed completely fine.

“C’mon, is it not obvious!?”

“No!? It’s not possible for some anime character to come to life!?” At this you dashed out the room, running into the kitchen to nab your phone to call 911. Before you could even pick it up from the counter, the phone was snatched at lightning speed.

“Hey-!” You whipped around, immediately meeting a stone hard chest.

You were trapped.

“What do I gotta do to prove ‘m real, huh?”

💫

Omfg this is so ooc 💀 writing in character is hard.

If anyone’s confused Toji died and reincarnated into a dead dog’s body that looks exactly like him. During the night get went back to the jjk dimension, shibuya happens, and he returns back human.

Not proofread 🤡

[mysticcollectionbee]

My convoluted theory about who owns Alastor’s soul:

Ok so this is bit long so buckle-up.

I think Alastor tried to summon Lilith as a mortal to make a deal with her (I don’t know why, maybe he thought the cops where on him or maybe he thought his mortality was getting in the way or something), but someone else popped up pretending to be Lilith (either Eve or Roo but I’m putting my money on Eve), they made a contract and the person signed it with Lilith’s name making the deal a bit of a fraud. Alastor gets some demon powers and the person wrongfully has Al’s soul. Al dies, works for ‘them’ for a bit, finds out about ‘their’ plan to cause a war to destroy both heaven and hell, realizes the truth, goes to Lilith and tells her everything. Lilith, “The Chain-breaker” isn’t ok with this and teams up with Al to deal with ‘Them’. She technically never gave Alastor her part of the deal so she basically goes: “I’ll give you more power and your soul, in exchange: Help me fight Eve and if something goes wrong protect my daughter.” They confront and fight Eve, Shit goes sideways, Lilith is either trapped or dead and Alastor barely escapes alive using the 7 years to recuperate. When he’s healed up, he goes to protect Charlie.

There are probably some errors with this, but so far it seems pretty good.

Fun little add-ons to the theory:

Eve (Got tired of typing “Them”) might still have Alastor’s soul but I kinda doubt it, cause she would have destroyed it by now. More likely Alastor got his soul back and the powers from Lilith but he was so beat up when he left that Eve just assumed he died.

Maybe the reason Alastor hates Lucifer is because he assumed the worst by how Lilith talked about him and why she didn’t want to include him in the mess. Alastor hearing a woman say: “No! We cannot tell him, he’ll react horribly to it.” Won’t assume it’s because the husband is a softie who’s already depressed.

Eve probably doesn’t pay attention to hell’s going ons and is still hidden somewhere. BUT if someone goes around looking for her, the reason for Al’s disappearance she’ll realize he ain’t dead. Might be the reason he doesn’t want people to be nosy.

Probably kept his promise with protecting Charlie because he liked Lilith (Once on his good side people can ask a lot from him *cough* Mimzy *cough*) and because the hotel could be a good place to hide from Eve.

So…What do you guys think?