#always look at who tuned her

[unknown-is-aaaa]

The world is hers! And we are the world! We are Miku!!!

i love love love your chubby miku because she looks just like me!! i've wanted to cosplay miku for YEARS but was afraid to becuase all the cosplayers i've seen were/are all skinny + it seems like you have to look a certain way to cosplay specific characters. your fat miku has given me the confidence i needed to try cosplaying her in the near future!! i feel so represented by her, thank you so much and keep being awesome!!!

Miku is for everyone. I love love seeing anyone cosplaying Miku. The thing about Miku is that she can be anything you want. You can cosplay any Miku because Miku is Miku. Please do cosplay her as you want! Cosplay and have fun!

[anemonet]

pro tip: you can always put the bugs in little outfits :thumbsup:

[willyhoos]

"shadows are inverted flames" -> wilsons hair is made of shadow -> YOUR BOYFRIEND'S HAIR IS MADE OF FLAME??? PETPETPETPET

also wilson can't leave the throne so he just has to deal with her doing this 24/7

[clau1r9i]

I'm sorry to be the one to say this but Chise is clearly bisexual

I mean, c’mon you know why i say this

[martianbugsbunny]

femme baffy picrews anyone? ngl I'm kind of obsessed w daffy

bonus lola under the cut

[stop-breaking-my-heart-dragonage]

As much fun as I'm having doing my alternative run of DA2, one thing I really miss about my mage Hawke is his friendship with Merrill.

Those two are best friends and he's 100% supportive in her goals toward the eluvian. Ed has the humorous/charming personality, too, which bounces off super well with Merrill. He doesn't think any less of her for her usage of blood magic; if anything he's impressed by her level of strength and willpower. He's so ready to defend her from the other companions and the clan, and he's absolutely out here attempting to matchmake her and Carver....at least he is in my heart because the game won't let me, it's fine, I'm not bitter about it or anything-

But then my warrior Hawke? She has the diplomatic personality with quite a bit of direct/aggressive thrown in there and she ends up having the same attitude as that one party banter Aveline and Merrill have: "Merrill, you're clearly talented and meant for great things, but you're stupid," and that's so difficult for me to lean into. I'm trying to play Aris differently so she ends up being so condescending to Merrill, like she's trying to gently tell her to give up on the eluvian but it doesn't come off well.

Also if Carver was around, Aris would be the opposite of Ed, she'd look at the suggestion of her brother and Merrill getting together and be like, "No :) I don't think so :) I like Merrill, she's my friend :) but she's not right for Carver."

But I guess it makes sense; if you told him that Bethany would giggle and kick her feet and twirl her hair around Sebastian, Ed would've thrown him in the ocean as a warning. Meanwhile, Aris is like, "A handsome prince that could take my sister away from all of this? Wonderful, we just need to work on his incorrect views on mages, but that shouldn't be a problem :)"

Anyway I miss playing Hawke as the #1 Merrill stan.

[pebbledrat]

The longer I'm around the more convinced I become that Jill and Michael also had some kinda codependent-besties archetype thing going on?? they may or may not even have been aware of it, but like. they're kind of a matched set, you know? Frequently purchased together, do not separate them

[lunaetis]

stargazing is something intimate with eden. something about gazing up at the sky of constellations makes it feel as though she could actually bare her entirety to the person sitting next to her. looking at the countless lights in the endless darkness, the galaxy and universe stretched out before them, eden likes the feeling of it, of sharing that sight and moment with the one she loves. one would be able to see the trailblazer being lost in timeless moment where no lies should be uttered, and no secrets should be kept. if she asks you to stargaze with her ( or pulling you with her to sit under the stars together ), that means she's ready to share one of the most important part of herself with you. it's her way of saying ' if i were to disappear from your side one day, i hope you'd think of me when you look up at the stars. '

[maliro-t]

some game design thinky thoughts.

[iwannaleavemymind]

gamer!choso bending you over his gaming table thinking the live camera feeds cut off but it’s still live.

gamer!choso who fucks you like he hates you, but whispers ‘I love you’ over and over into your ear.

gamer!choso knowing he left the live on, but of course it’s on accident, right?

gamer!choso fucking you dumb while your cheeks are pressed onto his desk, his hips snapping against yours, the tip of his dick hitting your spongy g spot every time, moans spilling past your lips and eyes screwed shut in pleasure.

gamer!choso making you squirt all over his cock, catching it allll on camera. The chat on the screen blowing up with comments about how pretty you are. ‘Omg I wish that was me!’ One comment reads, another one stating, ‘wow she’s hot must be fuckin her nice’

gamer!choso grabbing your face and making you turn and look at the camera, pupils blown out and drool spilling from your lips. Eyes widening when you see the camera still on and the chat still filling up with comments.

gamer!choso later starts a ~private~ patreon later on in the week, featuring videos with you and him starring in the videos.

Pt 2. Link below- stay tuned for more my loves!🤍🤍🤍

[nejackdaw]

S/o to these two being my favorite women growing up. Yes they're still my favorite yes this is still like my favorite type of character. I have been thinking about them all day they are like daughters to me

[unluckiestmember]

YAY, YOU'RE BACK TO WRITING FOR ARCANE. How would the arcane characters react (mainly vi, ekko, and jinx because i would marry, marry, and marry them all!!) to a reader who is sooo affectionate and finds every last thing they do so cute they get cuteness aggression and just jump at them like a cuddle bug often? thank you so much!!

Coming right up!

Arcane x Cuddle Bug! Reader

Characters: Powder/Jinx, Violet "Vi", Ekko, Caitlyn Kiramman, Viktor, Jayce Talis, Mel Medarda, Sevika and Ran.

Warning: None really. SFW.

A/N: Am I the only one who wants to snuggle into Caitlyn? Ugh, I love her so much.

Powder/Jinx

“Oh! Hey there, sugar! You want to cuddle? Don’t have to ask me twice! I’ll cuddle you so much that you get tired of me! But you’d never get tired of me, right?”

Jinx is a super clingy person, so for you to be as clingy as her it’s like you two are a match made in heaven. There’s barely any time that passes when you two are not touching each other and she lives for your cuddles. It doesn’t matter if you hug her out of nowhere or she sees you about to embrace her, she is stopping everything she is doing and pulling you into the tightest of hugs.

Most of the time if she isn’t causing mayhem in the streets of Zaun or busy with her inventions, she will spend her time just holding you so close and showering your face with the cutest but most childish of kisses. She doesn’t care if it’s in private or public, she will make it known that you two can’t keep your hands off each other. You are her cuddlebug and she is yours and that won’t ever change.

Violet “Vi”

“Woah there, cuddle bug! You’re gonna make me screw up my workout… Oh forget it. How can I say no to you?”

Because Violet is absolutely touch starved, she will never decline your cuddles, even if you take her by surprise a few times with how you hug her so suddenly. She finds it adorable how you fangirl around her and find everything she does to be awesome or cute. Granted she does wish you’d call her hot or sexy, but knows that isn’t really in tune with your personality.

Regardless, she tries to make sure you know how adorable you are, always telling you while you two are cuddled up together how lucky she is to have you and how you are so adorable. Even when you visit her at work, she’ll try to drop everything and have you run into her arms to pick you up. And every time she’s got time off work or is coming back from a job, she’s automatically looking for you so she could hook you in her arms and never let go.

Ekko

“Y/N, haha! You know we gotta keep this private, babe- The kids are gonna pounce on us any second now!”

Does Ekko love hugging you? Absolutely. The warmth of your arms around his body makes him stop everything he’s doing and just hug you while calling you his firelight or firefly. Unless he’s calling you an angel or lovebug, which never fails to make Scar either look at you two in awe or roll their eyes in mock annoyance. Unfortunately, Ekko does try his best to make sure you two don’t get super affectionate around the children, especially when it comes to hugs.

Why? Because as soon as you hug him, the children find this as an invitation to gather around him and have him nearly die under a cuteness overload of a group hug. It’s nice as a once in a while occurrence, but all the time? Maybe not. Outside of the reactions you two garnish and even the teasing of you being the firelight king/queen, Ekko lives for your cuddlebug energy, wanting to be in your arms after a long day’s work. It’s always the best way to end the night… 

Caitlyn Kiramman

“And that’s why if I am able to block this end of the road, I’ll- Oh!... Oh come here, sweetheart. If you wanted to cuddle so badly, you could’ve asked.”

Caitlyn has always been someone who was more subtle with her love, pulling you into brief kisses, cupping your cheek and holding you by your waist. She usually leaves the more out there gestures like hugging and cuddling for you to initiate. But when you do? It might be harder for you to get her off of you instead of the other way around. It can be at work, in her home, outside of work or at an event. As soon as she feels your arms wrap around her slender body, she’s stopping for a second to hold you back and kiss your forehead.

She will continue working if you interrupt her during a briefing or in the middle of cracking a case, but the entire time, she will have at least one arm around your body and make sure you are comfortable. Her comrades tease her about it and she’ll scowl a bit, but she doesn’t care. As far as she can tell, she’s extremely lucky to have you as a lover.

Viktor

“Ah! Oh, it is just you, zolotse. Remember, you have to warn me of these cute little hugs of yours.”

At first, Viktor wasn’t used to your physical affection and how you were in awe of everything he did. He actually thought you were mocking him at first or being silly. But after a while, especially when the two of you became a couple, he grew accustomed to your affections. He does get a bit startled when you hug him out of nowhere and he does have moments where you cheering him on does make him a bit bashful, but he enjoys your sweet gestures regardless.

He does find it difficult to be as outgoing with his love for you as you are with him, but he does try his best to make you realize he loves you, especially in the form of quality time and calling you by sweet pet names bound to make you blush. Viktor has a tendency to pass out from working too hard and waking up in your arms. And though he’d never say it out loud, you know based on the way he snuggles into you, he adores it and adores you.

Jayce Talis

“I know what you want and I want it too- So bring it in! I’ve waited all day to be in your arms!”

Because Jayce is always out at work, it’s kind of hard for you two to be around one another all the time. That’s why when he does reunite with you after hours or you two can be together on days off, he’s spending the majority of his free time with you or wrapped around you. He sort of craves for your praise and compliments as much as he craves your cuddles.

Many would compare the councilman to a needy dog wanting his owner’s undivided attention and he definitely gets that through you. Though he may try to act all cool or play coy, everyone knows that you mean so much to him and that he becomes putty around you. Even if they don’t, you’re not afraid to say it aloud. Just make sure Jayce isn’t around or that man will become redder than a beet.

Mel Medarda

“What’s wrong?... I know that look. You want to- Ah! Well looks like you beat me to the punch, darling. How about we take this to the bed, hmm?”

Mel wasn’t really given physical affection when she was younger. She was more someone who preferred verbal affection with words of affirmation. So when it came to you and how affectionate you are, she found herself adapting and loving physical affection as much as telling you how much she loved you.

Your cuddles and sweet gestures are her personal heaven she loves returning to after a long day’s work, especially if she can spend an evening with you platonically in your shared bed. In your arms, she feels she can air out anything that’s bothering her or interests her, especially when you admit how cute it is when she does. Though this kind of intimate affection is delegated to private quarters, anyone can know from the way Mel speaks of you outside of home and at events that you mean so much to her.

Sevika

“Yeah! So then I was like screw you, I can do whatever- Hold on. Uh, Y/N. I thought we agreed to not do this at work?”

Sevika is considered the Right Hand of Zaun, a woman who is feared if not respected by her peers. And she’d like to keep it that way. Which means that while you two are at work, she prefers it if you don’t cuddle her around co-workers and give them something to tease her about. You two can only flirt and kiss and even then, it has to be sexy…

But alone, when both of you are away from the public eye, Sevika is at your beck and call wishing for nothing else but to hear your sweet praises and melt into your arms and touch. Expect her to call you the cutest thing ever and tease you on occasion, but afterwards she’s basically a big needy cat, or as she prefers to be called, a panther. It’s moments like these where you can really consider yourself lucky to see a raw side of Sevika. And it was only preserved for you.

If you got any requests for Arcane or X-Men '97, send them my way!

Likes and retweets are always appreciated! I love you all, stay hydrated and have a good day! <3

[gumii-bearr]

❝ you hitting on me? ❞

summary: megumi doesn't like clubs, but then he sees you.

featuring… megumi fushiguro

content warning: MDNI (18+), afab!reader, alt!megumi, piercings and tattoos, reader is a babe fr, pet names, car sex, rough sex, fingering, riding, dick piercing (what who said that??), teasing, edging, choking, crying (omg), spanking (a lil bit), unprotected sex (don’t do that!!!!!), bit of subspace??, alcohol mentioned, smoking mentioned (don’t smoke, it’s bad for you!), vaping mentioned, these two are so horny for each other like wtf

author’s note: this was a request by a lovely anon!!! ... also its 4k words

Megumi doesn’t like going out. It’s not his thing, really. He prefers to stay at home to play video games or be his own company, and if he has to be social he prefers a more intimate get together over… whatever the hell Yuji is dragging him along too. 

“Trust, it’ll be fun,” Yuji nudges Megumi’s shoulder lightly. Megumi keeps his hands stuffed in the pockets of his black hoodie, a resting annoyed expression plastered across his face. He’s not sure how Yuji roped him into coming to this gig, maybe it was because Megumi kind of owed Yuji for turning down hanging out with him for the past… many times. 

Megumi doesn’t respond, just wordlessly follows behind Yuji as he weaves through groups of people socialising, vaping and drinking outside the bar Megumi was conned into coming to.

Yuji mentioned something about his friend’s band playing at this bar tonight and there may have been mentions of meeting up with Nobara but Megumi kind of tuned him out after he started going on and on about how Megumi was being anti-social and bringing up the numerous times he cancelled on Yuji (it was a ploy to make him feel bad and it unfortunately worked).

The moment they walk down the graffitied hallway, Megumi is again reminded why he doesn’t like going out. The bar is packed with drunk people and it smells of alcohol and sweat. Megumi inwardly cringes at the whole atmosphere and nearly, nearly, spins on his heel and leaves when some drunk girl bumps into Megumi while giggling and slightly dry heaving.

Before Megumi can even make a comment, Yuji is grabbing his arm, “don’t be a party-pooper, Fushiguro, we haven’t even seen Nobara yet!”

“I didn’t say anything,” Megumi deadpans.

“Yeah, but your face said it all,” Yuji retorts, “come on!” Yuji tugs on his friend’s arm, dragging his friend toward the loud thumping music.

His head hurts already. The music is loud and the random LED lights flying over the crowd are bright and annoying. Megumi is annoyed, to be fair, he’s always slightly annoyed but right now it’s increased tenfold by the overstimulating nightmare that is this club.

Megumi doesn’t even know where Yuji is going. Yuji is staring at his phone, then looking around, then back at his phone again. He’s talking to Megumi but the music is so loud that Megumi doesn’t know what the hell he’s saying. 

“There she is!” okay, he caught that.

Yuji walks a little faster, Megumi attempting to weave through the crowd of people without touching anyone (it’s not working, he’s very uncomfortable). The crowd seems to dissipate as they reach the back of the club by the bar, numerous tables dotting the back wall. Megumi spots Nobara as she leaps up from the table, waving her arm around obnoxiously.

“Itadori!” she’s yelling and if Megumi knows anything about Nobara, it’s that her voice really carries. “Fushiguro!”

Megumi raises his hand from his pocket as a slight wave, his lips forming a tight line. Nobara is already shoving a drink into Yuji’s hand then reaching over to give one to Megumi, “dunno what it is but it’s getting me drunk!”

Megumi tunes out whatever Nobara is saying the moment he sees you. 

You’re chuckling as you watch Nobara and Yuji feed off of each other’s excitement. You’re holding a drink in your hand, absentmindedly swirling the ice around with your straw. 

You’re also trying to remain super nonchalant at the fact you’re totally checking out Yuji’s friend.

He looks completely uninterested in what’s happening, his tired eyes glancing at anything other than the social situation in front of him. His hair is messy and framing his gorgeous face. His hoodie sleeves are rolled up and your eyes trace down his veiny arms adorned with pretty tattoos all the way to his hands. He’s got a couple of nose piercings and an eyebrow piercing, his whole vibe is dark and brooding and you’re so into it.

Where the fuck has this cutie been?

“Y/N, this is my friend Fushiguro,” you sit up a little straighter at the mention of your name. Nobara tugs on Megumi’s arm bringing him closer to the bar table, “say hi, you emo bitch.”

Megumi eyes you and you have no idea what he’s thinking. “Uh, hey,” he says awkwardly. Oh god, he’s a dork. You must have him.

He’s remaining as poker-faced as possible as his eyes glance over you, from the fishnet stocking adorning your legs to the subtle colour of your glossed lips. You’re smiling at him softly through mascaraed lashes and he finds himself peeking down at your lips.

Megumi thinks you’re really pretty.

He mostly just listens as you, Nobara and Yuji talk about college and work, opting for tapping his finger against the glass in front of him. He likes the way you talk, hand gestures accompanying your enthusiastic ramble about your college degree. He also likes the way you laugh, though he finds himself becoming slightly annoyed by the fact that Yuji’s the one making you laugh. 

He decides he needs a smoke, his head is pounding from the loud music and the flashing lights; he needs a break.

Megumi gets up from his seat, nudging Yuji’s arm, “‘m just going out for a smoke.”

Yuji waves him off and Megumi sets off toward the smoking area outside the bar. It’s colder outside but god, it’s so much quieter, just the bustling of cars down the street and the occasional police siren. He pulls a cigarette out of his pocket, flicking his lighter and holding it to the end until the smoke fills his mouth. 

He leans against the wall, cigarette perched between his lips as he scrolls on his phone. He debates it for a while, but eventually gives in and searches your name up on instagram. He finds your account, noticing you’re already friends with Itadori. He scrolls through your posts, feeling like a fucking teenager stalking your social media–

“Fuck.”

Megumi’s eyes snap to you, now with an oversized leather jacket pulled around your shoulders as you rifle through your purse. There’s an unlit cigarette pressed between your glossy lips and your brows are furrowed.

Megumi fishes his lighter back out of his pocket, he walks over to you and nudges your arm, holding the lighter out for you.

You look up at him with your pretty eyes, a smile pulling at your lips, “thanks, Fushiguro.”

You take the lighter from his hand, attempting to flick the lighter to life to light your cigarette. You try a couple more times before Megumi chuckles softly, taking it from your smaller hands and lighting it the first try.

He wordlessly cups the end of your cigarette, shielding it from the wind as he lights your cigarette for you, his darker eyes flickering up to yours briefly. 

The two of you stand in silence for a moment before you speak.

“I like your tattoos,” you say sweetly.

“Hm?”

“Your tattoos, they’re cool,” you repeat with a soft chuckle.

“Oh, thank you,” Megumi replies, absentmindedly running a hand along his inked arm. He feels his heart race a little when you reach a manicured hand out and run your finger along the dragon twisting around his forearm.

“Nobara told me you weren’t much of a talker,” you say, your smaller hand still fiddling with his larger more angular hands as you admire his tattoos. It’s strangely intimate of you to touch him in such a way.

“You talked about me?” Megumi teases, taking another drag from his cigarette with a smirk tugging at his lips.

“All good things, don’t worry,” you retort, finally letting go of his arm to bring your cigarette back up to your lips.

“Didn’t take you for a smoker.”

“Trying to quit, just smoke when I drink,” you shrug. You sigh then turn your head to face him, you look him up and down, “you got a girlfriend?”

Megumi lets out a laugh, coughing slightly on the smoke still swirling around in his chest, “no, why?”

You grin, “‘m hitting on you.”

“Oh, you are, are you?” Megumi presses.

“You’re pretty cute,” you shrug.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” Megumi asks, turning his head to blow the smoke away from you.

“No, no boyfriend… why? Are you hitting on me?” You ask curiously with a shit-eating grin plastered across your pretty glossy lips. 

Megumi looks at you and the two of you hold eye contact for a moment. His eyes flicker to your lips briefly before he squashes out the rest of his cigarette, “I’ll buy you a drink.”

“So you are hitting on me,” you tease.

Megumi takes the cigarette from your fingers, stealing your last puff and inwardly beaming at the cherry flavour of your lip gloss before squashing it out for you, “I’m buying you a drink.”

Megumi does indeed buy you a drink, bringing it back to the table for you, even getting you a straw.

“Thank you, Fushiguro,” you smile sweetly.

“Megumi is fine,” he says, pulling his chair out to sit next to you.

You suppress a smile, “okay, Megumi.”

The both of you miss as Yuji reluctantly slips Nobara some cash. 

The two of you talk all night. Megumi is a little more laid back after you manage to get two drinks into him. The time slips away from you and you find yourself not even interested in what Nobara and Yuji are talking about as you talk to Megumi. 

Megumi lets you toy with his fingers, your nails dragging along his tattooed hand and up his arm. You suddenly grow curious, wondering if he’s got any other tattoos underneath his clothes, you feel like a bit of a perv coming onto this guy you just met, but you’re so drawn to him and he seems to be just as into you.

You catch Megumi’s eyes drifting down to your tits before he quickly clears his throat to answer whatever question you asked him. You think it’s cute and you decide to tease him a little by wriggling a little closer to him, your fishnet-clad thigh pressing against his. 

He knows what you’re doing and he’s not even mad about it. He lets you laugh and hang off him, lets you toy with the hem of his hoodie sleeves and lets you bump shoulders with him. In all honesty, he lets you because you’re hot and you’re into him.

“God, it’s so late,” Nobara sighs, wincing at the brightness of her phone.

Megumi checks his own phone; 12:54am. God, it is late.

“Open your phone,” you mutter, your chin resting on his shoulder.

“Why?”

“Just open your phone,” you giggle.

He does as you say and he nearly has a fucking heart attack when his phone opens to your Instagram that he was totally not stalking just a few hours ago.

“Fuck,” he knows he’s caught red-handed when you start to laugh softly, his hand falling slack in his lap.

“Aw, you’re stalking me, Gumi?” 

Megumi feels his chest tighten at the little nickname and he rolls his eyes but doesn’t offer any kind of explanation as he hands you his phone to do whatever it is you wanted to do.

You scroll to his contacts, quickly putting your name and number in his phone (you also make sure to follow your Instagram from his phone) before clicking it shut and handing it back to him. 

“Don’t forget to call me, kay?” you give him the prettiest doe eyes and quickly stand up, grabbing your jacket to join Nobara as she leaves. “It was nice to meet you, Megumi.”

He sits there dumbfounded as you and Nobara leave, he watches your back, watching your little skirt ride up over your ass a bit as you walk away. Fucking hell.

“Dude!” Yuji nudges his arm, “you got her number!”

“Shut up,” Megumi retorts.

“Told you you’d have fun.”

“Shut up!”

Megumi shoves a laughing Yuji away as he reaches for his own stuff to leave. The club is mostly empty by now, Megumi not realising how much time they’d spent here because he was so fucking distracted by you.

He and Yuji go to leave when Megumi notices your purse is still hanging over your chair. He quickly grabs it, scanning the crowd with his tall frame in hopes you’re still hanging around. You’re not, so he quickly pulls on Yuji to catch you before you go. Not that you’ll get far without your keys.

-

“Fuck,” you stand by your car and realise you left your purse in the club. You’re almost two blocks away from said club and Nobara has already left, leaving you somewhat stranded. You sigh, pulling your phone out of your pocket to text Nobara and ask her to turn around and take you home because you’re too tired and your feet hurt too much to walk all the way back.

“Hey, Y/N,” you perk up at the sound of your name, spinning on your heel and watching as Megumi catches up to you, your purse slung over his shoulder.

“Oh fuck, thank you!” you sigh with relief as Megumi hands you back your purse. You fish through your purse for your keys, “did Yuji drive you?”

“Yeah, but he’s already left,” he says.

You give him a look, “he has, huh?”

“Thought I could drive you… since you’ve had a couple,” Megumi tilts his head at you and you grin knowingly.

“What a gentleman,” you tease. “My place or yours?” you joke.

Megumi just looks at you and there’s a thick tension hanging in the air. He suddenly surges forward, capturing your pretty glossy lips in a hard kiss.

You kiss him back almost instantly, lifting your arms to wrap around his neck. Even with heels on, Megumi is taller than you and you have to arch your back to catch his slightly chapped lips as he leans over you, his large hands landing on your waist to pull your hips against his.

“Here’s fine,” he mutters against your lips with a cheeky smirk, you can only laugh softly as one of his tattooed hands comes up to hold the back of your head, forcing you to deepen the kiss.

He forces his tongue into your mouth and you whine softly. He tastes of tobacco and spiced rum and it makes you fucking dizzy. You thread your fingers through his messy black hair, tugging on it as he moves you to press your back against the cold car window.

“You bring my purse all the way here just to kiss me?” You quirk a brow at him, panting slightly.

“Maybe,” he grins, trailing his lips down your jaw to your neck. “You leave your purse on purpose so I’d bring it to you?”

“Maybe.” 

Megumi’s hands trail down your waist to your ass, gently kneading the soft flesh over your tiny skirt. Your pretty nails push up the hem of his hoodie, feeling up his toned as fuck abs that tense slightly under your touch.

He kisses you again, his thumb coming to rest on your throat as his fingers squeeze slightly, god you really want him to choke you while he fucks you–

“Unlock the car, Y/N,” he says against your ear, his voice low and sexy. 

You pull your keys out of your purse and unlock your car (you’re lucky your car is parked in the dark at the back of the parking lot). 

You clamber over each other in the backseat until you’re straddling Megumi’s lap, your fingers in his hair once again while he kisses and sucks on your neck. His hands knead your ass, his fingers slipping down to lift your tiny skirt over your ass.

“Mm, touch me, Gumi,” you whine against his ear.

Megumi smiles against your neck before pulling away from you. You whine a little at the loss of contact but he quickly kisses you again, one of his hands snaking up the bottom of your top to grope your tits. You hold his hand over your top, forcing him to squeeze your soft skin.

You let out a soft moan at the feeling of his cold rings nipping at your hot skin. You grind your hips down against his, feeling his bulge rub against your wet panties. He groans at the feeling, his free hand curling into the plush skin of your ass before he reels it back to deliver a smack! to your ass.

You moan at the slight sting, hands holding Megumi’s face to kiss him as he forces your hips to grind against his hard-on.

“You’ve been teasing me all night,” Megumi pants against your lips.

“I just wanted you t’fuck me,” you retort playfully.

“Such a slut,” he kneads your ass again before reaching his hand down further to run his middle finger across your slit over your panties. “Someone’s excited, hm?”

“Shut up,” you whine as he traces his finger over your clothed clit. You curl your fists into the fabric of his hoodie, moaning against his shoulder as he presses his finger a little harder against your clit.

He suddenly reaches both hands down, ripping apart your fishnets for better access. He pulls your pretty lacy panties aside, the pad of his finger prodding at your soaked hole. He traces his fingertip around the opening, chuckling as you whine and hump his lap looking for friction.

“Don’t tease me,” you grumble.

“You’re so cute when you’re needy,” he teases. You pout and he chuckles, pressing a wet kiss to your lips as he plunges his finger into your awaiting heat. 

You moan at the feeling, pressing your face into his shoulder as he pumps his middle finger into your tight cunt. You’re so fucking tight and you’re only taking a finger– he can only imagine how heavenly you would feel wrapped around his cock.

Your little hand presses against the buckle of his belt and Megumi delivers another hard smack! to your reddened ass. You moan out again, your trembling hands clutching his hoodie.

“So fucking impatient,” Megumi presses a second finger into your cunt, peering over your shoulder and watching as your slick starts to coat his palm and probably his clothed thigh.

“Mm, hah–” you sigh, feeling as Megumi scissors your poor little cunt open, his fingers prodding and curling against the spongy spot inside you. Your pussy makes lewd squelches as Megumi fucks his fingers into you. You grind your hips against his hard cock in his boxers, the friction rubbing your poor neglected clit.

You feel your lower belly start to burn as you whine and hump against Megumi’s clothed cock, your hole beginning to tighten and spasm around his fingers.

Megumi suddenly pulls his fingers from your soaked little pussy. You let out a frustrated whine as the burn in your belly subsides and you pant against Megumi’s neck. 

His fingers prod at your lips without warning and you open your mouth just slightly and he forces his fingers into your mouth, pressing down on your cute little tongue.

You suck on his fingers, your smaller hand curling around his wrist as you make cute little noises. Megumi kisses your temple before his lips ghost over the shell of your ear, “I want you to cum on my cock… can you do that f’me, baby?”

You nod your head quickly.

“Words, baby,” he coos, his hand kneading over the harsh red welt blooming on your ass. 

“Mhm… I can do it,” you pant, a thin sheen of sweat coating your skin. “Please.”

Megumi’s hand reaches for his belt buckle, quickly undoing his belt and unzipping his pants. If he wasn’t so impatient, he would have taken you home and had you spread your legs for him to fuck you with his tongue and his fingers. Then he would have forced you onto your knees and fucked your face until you cried before he put his dick anywhere near your cunt.

But this is just as good.

Megumi pulls his cock from his boxers, groaning as he pumps himself a few times. Your eyes nearly bulge out of your head at the sheer size of him, but also the fact that underneath the pink head of his cock is a little silver barbell. 

“You got a condom, baby?

“N-No,... you have your dick pierced?”

Megumi almost forgets he has it half the time, “yeah… feels good, don’t worry.”

You bite your lip, suddenly a little jealous of how he exactly figured out his piercing felt good. Megumi notices your flushed face and the way you chew on your lip. His large hand gently cups your face, forcing you to look at him so he can press a soft kiss to your lips.

He reaches for your hand, bringing it down to wrap around his hard cock. It’s heavy in your hand and you gently squeeze, jerking him off.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” Megumi kisses at your skin, “promise ‘m gonna take you on a date tomorrow.”

You giggle at his attempt to make you feel better, “you better, cus if you’re gonna fuck me raw you better buy me dinner.”

Megumi chuckles through a low groan, grabbing your wrist and forcing you to stop squeezing and jerking him off because if you keep doing it he’s gonna cum like a teenager because you’re the prettiest fucking girl he’s ever seen and now you’re on top of him with your top pushed over your pretty tits and your pussy waiting for him.

Megumi kisses you again, his tongue pressing against yours as you lift yourself up a little, your hand wrapping around the base of Megumi’s big fucking cock to line him up with your sopping hole. 

Megumi’s hands land on your hips, his dark eyes meeting yours as his tip prods as your hole. You feel his piercing catch on the outside of your hole and you tip your head back and moan as you sink down, Megumi peppering kisses across your tits as he helps you lower yourself down on his cock.

You’re so fucking tight around him when he finally bottoms out, your pussy wrapped so snug, pulsing slightly as you pant and moan.

“S’big, Gumi,” you whine.

“I’ll be gentle,” he says as he lifts your hips, slowly pulling you back down on his cock. “You gotta help me out, princess.”

You pant, only just noticing how foggy your windows are. The two of you are coated in a thin sheen of sweat and you lean back, planting your hands on the tops of Megumi’s knees so you can bounce on his cock.

You start off slow before you get lost in the feeling of his cock and the piercing dragging against your tight walls. Megumi’s hands bruise your hips as he helps you bounce on his cock, his eyes unable to look away from where your pussy sucks in his cock.

Your slick is forming a white ring around the base of his cock, your wetness dripping down the inside of your thighs and down onto his pants. You’re fucked stupid on his dick as you babble and moan incoherently, unable to stop bouncing as you chase your orgasm.

You pull almost all the way off his dick before forcing yourself back down, your eyes screwing shut at the feeling of his cock kissing your cervix. Megumi’s hand presses against the slight bulge in your tummy, the feeling making you fucking dizzy.

“Harder, please Gumi, fuck me harder,” you cry out, your finger sinking down between your thighs to rub circles on your clit. 

Megumi feels like he gets harder at the nickname, “fuck, baby,” he coos, his hands bruising your hips as he bullies your cunt, the tip of his cock bruising your poor cervix. One of Megumi’s hands wraps around your throat, squeezing on your pretty neck. You choke on your own moans as your orgasm nears.

“I’m gonna– Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you cry, tears pricking the corners of your eyes, mixing with your mascara and slipping down your pretty cheeks.

You feel your belly start to burn and your nails scratch at Megumi’s forearms as he lets go of your neck to press his own thumb against your sensitive little clit, forcing your orgasm out of you.

You cry when you feel the coil in your belly snap, your cunt spasming around Megumi’s cock and gushing around him.

“That’s it, princess. Fuck, that’s a good girl,” he eggs you on, your legs shaking at the feeling of your orgasm crashing into you. “You’re so tight, baby.”

You don’t respond, your vision turning white as your cunt clamps down on him. Megumi groans and grunts at the feeling, bouncing your hips on his lap and using your fucked out body to chase his own orgasm.

Megumi’s cock twitches inside you and you just whine and cry as he pumps you full of his cum, thick white ropes painting your insides. He forces your hips down onto his cock, finally ceasing his movements and just panting, attempting to catch his breath.

Your body shakes and you mewl softly, babbling incoherently. Megumi coos, pulling you against his chest and running a hand down your back to bring you back to earth, “shh, shh, you’re okay.”

“Mhm,” you hum.

“Too much?” he asks, petting your hair and kissing the crown of your head.

You shake your head, “best sex of my life,” you sigh.

Megumi chuckles, his hand gently rubbing up and down your back, his other hand fixing your shirt back over your boobs. “I’ll take you home now, kay?”

“You gonna stay?” you ask, peering up at him with a fucked out expression and dried mascara stuck to your cheeks.

“You want me to?” he smiles.

You nod, “mhm… otherwise how will you make me breakfast?”

Megumi laughs, lifting your head to press kisses to your face. 

After a moment longer, Megumi lifts you off of his softening dick, his cum leaking from your abused little hole. You sigh at the empty feeling, your thighs aching from the stretch. Megumi fixes your panties back into place, pressing another kiss to your forehead.

He manages to carry you and put you into the passenger seat, fastening your seatbelt for you before starting up your car and actually driving you home–

“Wait, where the hell am I going?”

You can only tiredly giggle from the passenger seat.

author's note: YEESH! i need a cold ass shower. dunno how i feel about it but!!! it’s here!!!

[writingsbychlo]

PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE | mattheo riddle

summary; mattheo is your slightly toxic, slightly unhinged, but absolutely adoring and completely obsessed boyfriend.

word count; 7077

notes; literally the moment I started watching the PPP music video I was like 'oh it's so matty coded' and this came to mind immediately. I didn't intend for it to get so long, it was supposed to be a short drabble. whoops.

The first time you met Mattheo Riddle, you were just walking out of detention as he was walking in. 

Well, being dragged in by Madam Hooch, more like. He had blood on his face, and his knuckles, and he was smirking to himself as a sorry-looking Cormac trailed them inside. His eyes met yours, he’d winked, and you’d both continued to watch one another over your shoulders as you crossed paths, until the door shut. 

You were his, from that very first moment. 

The following days brought stolen glances across the classrooms and the Great Hall, his arrogant smirks and your shy smiles, and the look on his face that made you blush. You had to see him again, and opportunity presented itself that same Thursday, in Potions class, as Mattheo argued with Snape over… something. 

You’d tuned out, preferring to sit and watch him. He was just so pretty when he was mad. 

“That will be detention, Mr Riddle.” Snape drawled in that monotonous tone of his, and Mattheo glared across the classroom at the professor, who looked like he couldn't have cared less if he tried. “Unless anybody else has any objections, we can return to—”

Your book hit the ground with a resounding thud. The sound of it echoed around the room, and all eyes turned to you. You weren’t sure what exactly had brought it on, and your friends stared at you, horrified about the disruption. An excuse sat on the tip of your tongue, but then your eyes met those enchanting honey-brown ones, and he was smirking at you once again, a single brow raised. 

“Motherfucker.” You squeaked out, and after a pause that felt like it lasted an eternity, your professor sighed. 

“Very well. Detention for you, too.”

Your jaw dropped, heat flushed your face, and Mattheo’s smirk stretched into a smile. Another wink, and you were a goner. 

That same evening in detention, you’d been punctual and prompt, and he had sauntered in fifteen minutes late, sliding into the chair right beside you. Whispered conversations became jokes and confessions, inching closer and closer together, until you could count every little freckle that danced across his nose, and taste the nicotine and mint still on his breath when he spoke. His eyes held you captive, the stories he told had you on the edge of your seat, and the way his hand slid up your thigh had you burning. 

Your first kiss was a month later, when he’d made you promise not to get any more detentions just to see him. Instead, you’d waited outside the classroom, and the moment he’d been out, he’d given you that same flirty grin. Pressed up into the stone wall behind you, with one of his hands beside your head as the other sat on your waist, his tongue had slipped into your mouth. He’d tasted like chocolate and cigarettes, and you’d been intoxicated. 

And when he pulled back, his softest smile yet on his face as his hand had taken your own, you’d known that he was yours, too.

“What do you mean you’re going out with Mattheo Riddle?” Your friend hissed, her eyes wide as the two of you huddled close together, ducking along the corridors as you hurried to your next class. 

“Well, I mean that he asked me out on a date, and I said yes, so—”

“Don’t be sassy with me!” She scoffed, and you smiled, shrugging. She really had left herself wide open for that, it wasn’t your fault you took the chance she presented. “He’s bad news.”

“Oh, come on. What does that even mean?”

“It means that he’s bad for you. He’s bad for everyone!” Finally reaching the classroom —early, as always— the two of you settled in at your desk, unpacking your books, and still whispering despite the empty classroom you found yourselves in. Not even the professor had arrived yet. “He’s always getting in fights, and he’s always in trouble or detention, and— hey! I bet he’s the reason you’ve been getting a string of detentions lately, huh?”

You had no rebuff to that, heat coating your cheeks but you couldn't hide the smile that grew on your face at the mere thought of all your detention time spent together. “He told me not to do that anymore, that’s why he asked for a date! See? He’s good for me.”

“Oh, gee, what a saint he is.” She muttered, eyes rolling so hard you thought they’d fall out. All humour slowly dissipated between you both, and she frowned and opened her notebook, dipping a quill in fresh ink. As the seconds ticked by, tension grew between you both that you didn’t like. 

“Look, I know what people say about him, and the reputation he has, but he’s not like that with me. He’s not been like that with me.” Your hand lifted, scratching your cheek subconsciously. “It’s… not our first date. It’s just the first one I’ve told you about, because I knew you’d react like this. But, if you knew him like I did, you’d understand…”

Your voice trailed off, dreamy with a sigh and she turned to look at you. One of her brows raised as she put down her quill delicately. A beat passed, and her shoulders sagged, a little of the tension slipping free. “He really makes you happy? Because… I’m just worried about you, y’know?”

“I know, and I love you for that. But I just need you to be happy for me right now.”

“He’s going to break your heart. He’s going to make you cry, and hate the world, and I don’t like that.” 

Your hand slipped to hers, taking it in yours and squeezing. Flicking through your mind was the confidence brought on by every sweet word he whispered in your ear. All the soft kisses and touches. They didn’t know the kindness, and the devotion, and the loyalty. 

How could they, when they never gave him a chance? But his friends did, they saw the same side of him that you did. The version of him that would defend their name, and stop at nothing to make them happy. The version of him that didn’t believe the lies and the rumours, and never even looked at any other girls. 

They didn’t know how funny he was, how secretly cuddly he was, or how he just craved a little attention. They didn’t see him on the nights he’d sneak into your dorm just to crawl into bed and hold you, or the flowers he’d drop off outside your door. They didn’t see the love-hearts written on the corners of his notes in class or the way he got grumpy if he went too long without affection. 

You had good taste. You knew you did. It was just a shame nobody else saw it.

 “He won’t, I know he won’t.”

“I hope for your sake he proves me wrong.”

Mattheo was nothing if not a sweet-talker. He’d spent the morning covering you with kisses, and whispering into your ear about the date he would take you on tonight. By the end of the day, you’d been kissed on every inch of your face, and the husky tone of his voice was still ringing in your ears as he bid you goodbye, and promised to pick you up in a few hours. 

He’d been right on time, too. Knocking at your door at seven on the dot with flowers in hand and a whole new batch of compliments rolling off of his tongue. Gods, did Mattheo love to make you blush. Everything from looking you up and down seductively, to telling you that you were the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen, he did it all. 

He kissed you like you were the only woman in the world, like he wanted you to feel his love and devotion as much as he spoke the words, and you melted into him every time. Whether it was a brush of his lips over your own, or his hands grasping at your body, pulling you so close you nearly fused as his mouth claimed yours, he did all of it so passionately. 

Now, he was kissing your knuckles, guiding you toward one of the more expensive restaurants in Hogsmeade, one you’d never been to before, and grinning at your expression. 

“Matty, this place isn’t cheap!”

“Nothing will be good enough for my girl, but certainly nothing cheap. For now, this is the best I can give to you.” Tugging you in close, the two of you stood outside of the beautifully decorated little building, and he nudged his nose against yours. “One day, I’ll take you all around the world, to eat the best food with the best views.”

“Oh…” Your hands settled on his face, thumbs rubbing across his cheeks as he smiled, and you pressed a kiss on his lips in gratitude as words seemed to escape you entirely. “I love you.”

“I love you more, pretty girl.” His arms were tight around your waist, not quite ready to go yet, and his lips parted like there was something more he had to say. “Listen, when we get in there, I just have to speak to one of the workers real quick, okay?”

“Okay.” It didn’t seem all that concerning to you, and with a final kiss to your lips, he was holding open the restaurant door for you. His hand was warm in your own as he led you through the building. But then he was guiding you right past the hostess station, and you glanced back to it, but his feet never stopped moving, and you hurried to keep up with him. 

Past tables and other workers, your jaw dropped with a soft gasp as he let himself into the back of the restaurant.

“Matty, I don’t think we’re allowed back here…”

“Don’t worry about it, baby.” Mattheo smiled, leaving another kiss on your cheek as he let go of your hand. “Wait here for me, ‘kay? I just need to speak to one of the chefs.”

With that, he was disappearing into the kitchens, and you leaned back against the wall, staring at the clock opposite you. Seconds ticked past, turning into minutes, ten of them, to be precise, before the shouting started. Mattheo was yelling, you’d know his voice anywhere, and when you poked your head around the doorframe and into the kitchen, it was to find him holding a vaguely familiar-looking chef by the collar, and slamming him into a wall. 

“Mattheo!”

Your voice fell on deaf ears, as the two began to push. Mattheo’s back hit the counter behind him, a sickening smack and a grunt of pain, before the two were throwing fists. Every crunch of bones on skin and every rattling sound of a body hitting the workstations and countertops made your stomach turn. You covered your ears, turning your back on it all and shaking your head. 

You didn’t need to see that. 

Eventually, the other chefs stepped in, dragging Mattheo out of the backdoor. When it was all over, you apologised profusely as you hurried through the kitchen to follow after him, hopping over the boy he’d beaten half-senseless who was groaning on the floor. 

Stepping out through the backdoor, Mattheo was pacing, spitting a bloody mouthful out onto the floor, and his head snapped up in your direction. Only when he realised who it was did his gaze soften, and he wiped his palm across the back of his mouth. 

A few seconds of silence passed as the shock settled and you checked he was okay, and when he reached for you, you turned from him. Storming away down the alley, you heard his frustrated groan behind you, the sound of him kicking a trash can, before he was hurrying after you. 

“Okay, I know that wasn’t how the evening was supposed to go—”

“Oh, it wasn’t?” Your laugh was so dry it almost made your chest hurt, and you didn't even bother to look back at him as you began to walk back through Hogsmeade.

“I fucked up, I know—”

“Understatement of the century.” You muttered, ignoring his attempts at excuses and explanations as you wove through the streets. People offered you both funny looks, no doubt because of the blood running from his nose as he tried to stop it, the pair of you mid-argument. 

When you reached the edges of the town, Mattheo fell into step beside you, his hand skimming down your back, burning into you through the thin fabric of your dress. A dress that had been a damn waste to put on.

“Don’t touch me.” You hissed, slapping his hand away from your lower back, and he whined.

“Oh, come on, baby. I’m sorry.”

“You’re not sorry! You planned this, and told me we were going on a date!” Your arms crossed over your chest as you stomped back out of the small village, beginning the walk back towards the school. “You lied to me!”

“Woah, now! Hey! I never lied! I fully intended to—” He huffed as you continued to walk ahead of him, all but speeding in your heels until you wobbled, and he cursed under his breath, catching you to steady you. Spinning you around, he tipped your chin up with one finger. “Listen, pretty girl. I never meant for all this to happen, okay? I meant it when I said I’d made us a reservation. I just figured I’d go and get my money from this guy, maybe even let him off a few galleons so he’d give us better service, and then we’d have a nice date. I didn’t expect him to start a fight!”

“He didn’t start the fight, you did!” You poked a finger into his chest, and he winced. Obviously, you’d found a bruise by mistake. Smoothing your palm over it in way of a silent apology, his hand cupped yours, holding it over his heart. “You said ‘Let’s take this outside’.”

“Okay, well, I was calling his bluff. I didn’t expect him to actually take me up on it!”

Your jaw tightened, and your lip wobbled. You felt ridiculous, you’d gotten all dressed up, and you were hungry, and he’d let you down. At your expression, his own face crumpled, and he sighed sadly as he cupped your cheeks. 

“Please, baby, don’t cry because of me. You look so pretty, you did your makeup so nice, I don’t want you to cry because of me. Let’s just go back and find somewhere else to eat, yeah?”

“I don’t want to, and we can’t! You’re dirty and bleeding, and you’ve got a black eye coming on. We can’t go anywhere.” You muttered, crossing your arms. He leaned in, kissing the corner of your mouth.

“I’m sorry. I love you, more than anything. I really didn’t mean for it to go like this. I won’t let it happen again.”

“Promise me.” You huffed, gaze finally returning to his, and he nodded emphatically. “No more acting stupid in front of me.”

“I promise, sweet girl. I’ll never mix business with pleasure again, okay? When I’m with you, it’s all you.”

Just like that, he had your walls crumbling. How could you stay mad at him, when he smiled so sweetly, and made you feel so special? You gave in, one hand lifting to his cheek, touching gently at the swollen skin around the cut on his face. He hissed and pulled back, and your frown only deepened. “C’mon, you can come to my dorm, I’ll clean you up.”

“You’re gonna’ clean me up?” His smile was like that of a puppy, taking your hand happily and guiding you back along the path. “I tell you what, I’ll force Nott to sneak into the kitchens and make us some pasta, in exchange for the room to himself tonight, how’s that?”

“And where will you be sleeping?” You smirked, and he matched it, shrugging. 

“I don’t know. Maybe the cold, stone floor in front of the common room fireplace.” Your eyes rolled, and he dipped his head, leaving a kiss on your neck. “Or maybe, my loving girlfriend will let me stay over, and I’ll make it worth her while…”

“I don’t want to look at your battered face.”

“Put a pillow over my head and get on top, then.” He snickered, and your jaw dropped.

“Matty!”

You brushed your fingers through Mattheo’s curls, and a sleepy rumble emanated from him. He nuzzled in a little closer. The tip of his nose rubbed your sternum and his arms tightened around you. He pressed a lazy kiss to your skin through your tee, melting into you further with the sigh he let go. 

You’d spent all day dozing on and off together, lounging in bed, and watching movies. You’d dragged yourself up at some point to grab a book, an attempt to be productive, but Mattheo had quickly put an end to that as he dragged you back into the sheets. Now, the evening was rolling around, the sun was setting, and the stagnation of the day was beginning to become bothersome. 

With another huffed-out sigh, Mattheo lifted his head, a frown on his lips as your hand slipped down to his cheek. He was sleep rumpled, a crease across his cheek from where he’d been lying on you, and you rubbed it soothingly. 

“I could do with some fresh air,” He eventually mumbled, twisting his head to kiss the palm of your hand. “Let’s go for a walk or something.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest. Lately, he’d been getting into all sorts of arguments and fights. Never with you, no, your little disagreements ended with him conceding and kissing you senseless. But, he’d been drawing a lot of extra attention to himself lately, and it wasn’t all that positive. You weren’t so keen to have another date ruined by his fighting or being dragged off to detention. 

“Maybe the courtyard?”

“We could stay here?” You suggested, and he pursed his lips, shaking his head. 

“No, I want to go out. You don’t have to come, baby. I’ll just go for a smoke break, I’m sure Theo is knocking around here somewhere.” With that, he hauled himself up from the bed, and you watched him go. Stretching out muscles that hadn't been utilised all day, you bit your lip, tangled up in the sheets still as you watched him fetch a fresh t-shirt and tug it on, before searching for a pair of jeans. 

You couldn't very well let him go alone, if he did, he’d smoke, and you hated that. But if you did go with him, you’d spend the whole time trying to stop him from riling up the Gryffindors he seemed to be having so many problems with recently. 

He found a pair, tugging them up his legs and buttoning them at his waist. He was determined to go then, and you rolled over to prop your head up on your arm. 

“I really can’t convince you to stay?” You teased, sneaking a bare leg out from under the covers that led all the way up, and giving him a flash of what else lay underneath. Rolling onto your stomach and letting the sheets fall, his eyes fell straight to the skimpy little bit of lace you’d donned earlier, barely classifying as underwear at all. 

He groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’m gonna’ need a few more hours before I can go again, pretty girl. No matter how much you tease me with that little thong of yours.”

It was futile, once his mind was set, it was done. “Alright, fine.” You murmured, lips puckering as he leaned over the bed to give you a quick kiss. “I’ll come with you.”

“You will?” His face lit up, and guilt instantly flooded you. 

It wasn’t necessarily his fault. It was just a part of his culture. He’d been raised on impulsivity and violence and arguments. You knew all about his home life, his childhood and his upbringing. He’d had a rough time of it, the grizzly truth unveiled to you between late-night kisses and midnights at the tower as he smoked. You were surprised he even possessed the limited emotional functions he did, unlike his brother. You were supposed to guide him, to help him see better, to love him right and show him the purity of it. 

He tugged on your hands, an excited smile on his face as he helped you out of the sheets. He found your denim skirt on the floor, holding it out for you and letting you balance on his shoulders as you wobbled into it. 

“How about the forest, instead?”

At least there would be fewer people there. He nodded his head, swiping a kiss to your cheek as he mumbled a spell to set the bed off on making itself. “Whatever you want, baby.”

It would surely end badly, something or someone would send him into a spiral. But, until that happened, you wanted to soak up every second of that smile on his face, that you put there so easily. How anyone could think he was bad, when he smiled so sweetly, was beyond you. 

You brushed your fingers through Mattheo’s curls, and a sleepy rumble emanated from him. He nuzzled in a little closer. The tip of his nose rubbed your sternum and his arms tightened around you. He pressed a lazy kiss to your skin through your tee, melting into you further with the sigh he let go. 

You’d spent all day dozing on and off together, lounging in bed, and watching movies. You’d dragged yourself up at some point to grab a book, an attempt to be productive, but Mattheo had quickly put an end to that as he dragged you back into the sheets. Now, the evening was rolling around, the sun was setting, and the stagnation of the day was beginning to become bothersome. 

With another huffed-out sigh, Mattheo lifted his head, a frown on his lips as your hand slipped down to his cheek. He was sleep rumpled, a crease across his cheek from where he’d been lying on you, and you rubbed it soothingly. 

“I could do with some fresh air,” He eventually mumbled, twisting his head to kiss the palm of your hand. “Let’s go for a walk or something.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest. Lately, he’d been getting into all sorts of arguments and fights. Never with you, no, your little disagreements ended with him conceding and kissing you senseless. But, he’d been drawing a lot of extra attention to himself lately, and it wasn’t all that positive. You weren’t so keen to have another date ruined by his fighting or being dragged off to detention. 

“Maybe the courtyard?”

“We could stay here?” You suggested, and he pursed his lips, shaking his head. 

“No, I want to go out. You don’t have to come, baby. I’ll just go for a smoke break, I’m sure Theo is knocking around here somewhere.” With that, he hauled himself up from the bed, and you watched him go. Stretching out muscles that hadn't been utilised all day, you bit your lip, tangled up in the sheets still as you watched him fetch a fresh t-shirt and tug it on, before searching for a pair of jeans. 

You couldn't very well let him go alone, if he did, he’d smoke, and you hated that. But if you did go with him, you’d spend the whole time trying to stop him from riling up the Gryffindors he seemed to be having so many problems with recently. 

He found a pair, tugging them up his legs and buttoning them at his waist. He was determined to go then, and you rolled over to prop your head up on your arm. 

“I really can’t convince you to stay?” You teased, sneaking a bare leg out from under the covers that led all the way up, and giving him a flash of what else lay underneath. Rolling onto your stomach and letting the sheets fall, his eyes fell straight to the skimpy little bit of lace you’d donned earlier, barely classifying as underwear at all. 

He groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’m gonna’ need a few more hours before I can go again, pretty girl. No matter how much you tease me with that little thong of yours.”

It was futile, once his mind was set, it was done. “Alright, fine.” You murmured, lips puckering as he leaned over the bed to give you a quick kiss. “I’ll come with you.”

“You will?” His face lit up, and guilt instantly flooded you. 

It wasn’t necessarily his fault. It was just a part of his culture. He’d been raised on impulsivity and violence and arguments. You knew all about his home life, his childhood and his upbringing. He’d had a rough time of it, the grizzly truth unveiled to you between late-night kisses and midnights at the tower as he smoked. You were surprised he even possessed the limited emotional functions he did, unlike his brother. You were supposed to guide him, to help him see better, to love him right and show him the purity of it. 

He tugged on your hands, an excited smile on his face as he helped you out of the sheets. He found your denim skirt on the floor, holding it out for you and letting you balance on his shoulders as you wobbled into it. 

“How about the Lake, instead?”

At least there would be fewer people there. He nodded his head, swiping a kiss to your cheek as he mumbled a spell to set the bed off on making itself. “Whatever you want, baby.”

It would surely end badly, something or someone would send him into a spiral. But, until that happened, you wanted to soak up every second of that smile on his face, that you put there so easily. How anyone could think he was bad, when he smiled so sweetly, was beyond you.“Baby, wake up.” The words were mumbled tenderly into your ear, and you groaned a little at the hand gently shaking your shoulder. “Come on, pretty girl, open those eyes.”

“What, Matty? It’s the middle of the night.”

“I know, that’s why it’s the perfect time!” Excitement tinged his voice, and as you forced your eyelids open, you found him standing at the edge of your bed, wand lit up dimly, and your coat in his hand. “Get up, baby. We’re going for a walk.”

“Now?”

“Yes. You don’t think the stars and the moon are romantic? Isn’t there just something… better about the night?”

Your smile was against your will, sitting up slowly and swinging your feet out of the bed, suppressing a yawn. “You’re lucky I wore full pyjamas to bed tonight.”

“You mean I could’ve walked in here to find you naked?” He clasped a hand over his heart, letting out a pained groan. He handed you his wand to hold, before dropping to his knees before you. 

“No, you perv! I meant that I’m wearing full-leg pyjamas, not my shorts!”

He only snickered to himself, while navigating your trainers onto your feet and tying the laces up for you. Once they were secure, he took his wand back, sliding it into his back pocket and clasping your hands in his own. With a kiss on your lips, he wrapped the warm coat over your shoulders. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be, Matty.”

He grinned at that, taking your hand, and leading you through the silent halls. Twigs snapped under your feet as you crossed the courtyard together, giggling and shushing each other, and you had to admit that he was right. Both the adrenaline of it all, and the beauty of the scenery, made for the perfect blend of excitement and romance. 

As you cleared the school building and began to make your way out across the fields, Mattheo’s arm looped around your waist, supporting you through every dip and hole in the grass, never letting you so much as stumble. 

“Nearly there.” He whispered into the cold night air as you approached the quidditch grounds, the different house flags blowing gently in the summer breeze. 

“Nearly where? I thought we were just going for a walk.”

He didn’t reply, and only a couple of steps later, the barely concealed voices of several of his friends carried across the pitch towards you both. “Mattheo Riddle, I swear to Merlin, if you’ve brought me along on one of your ridiculous schemes—” You shrieked, cutting yourself off as one of the Weasley’s firecrackers shot past your head, between the two of you, and Theodore’s laughter echoed out, following it. 

“Oi, Nott, watch it. If that’d hit my girl, the next thing to be hit would be your face on the fuckin’ concrete.”

“Relax, she ducked! No harm, no foul. Right, principessa?” Theo smirked, seeming to appear from the shadows as he sparked his lighter, and brought the flame to the end of his cigarette. Lorenzo was there too, a bag over one shoulder that rattled suspiciously as he came towards the three of you, and your arms crossed protectively over your body. 

“Matty, what is this?”

“Don’t flirt with my girl in Italian.” Mattheo glared at his friend, but it soon melted away as he was handed the cigarette, and Theo tucked his hands into his pockets, appraising you. 

“This, bella, is revenge.”

“What did I just say about the Italian—?”

“Why do you need revenge?” Your words crossed Mattheo’s who only huffed, but remained quiet as he passed the cigarette beyond you to Enzo. Nobody answered, and your boyfriend shuffled from one foot to the other as your narrowed gaze turned on him. “Mattheo.”

“The Gryffindors were talking shot about our upcoming game, and McLaggen and his mates thought it’d be funny to charm all our jerseys pink for practice, so we’re just getting even.”

“Why do I get the feeling that whatever you’re about to do is far beyond ‘even’? Pink jerseys don’t seem equal to… whatever you’re doing here. I want no part of it.” You spun on your heel, but didn’t get very far, not even a single step, before Mattheo was wrapping an arm around your waist, and pulling you into himself. You jabbed a finger into his chest, putting the full heat of your wrath into your stare, “You said we were going for a walk!”

“We are! We did. Look, this is gonna’ be fun, you’ll see. I know how much that one Gryffindor chick has been pissing you off lately. I'm getting revenge for you too, here!” He cupped your cheek, running his thumb over your lips, before planting a kiss there. “I’m avenging you, baby.”

He took your hand, pulling you along behind him with the kind of infectious excitement that made you smile, even when you didn’t want to. Sitting down on one of the benches, you watched with an amused smile at the way he and his friends whispered conspiratorially amongst themselves as they thought through just what they might do. 

That innocent adoration you had didn’t last long.

You’d been expecting a few stink bombs in lockers and foul-smelling potions tipped into the shower drains that would stink for weeks. Maybe even a hex or two for inconvenience. A shriek burst past your lips as another of Theodore’s rockets shot past your head, screeching as it went and your hands clasped over your ears. 

He was letting them off, inside. Glitter exploded everywhere, the few flaming pieces of ash sprinkling down eroded holes in the towels and jerseys hanging on hooks around the locker room. Glass shattered somewhere, and Theo all but howled with laughter as the rocket shot off into the night sky to fizzle out with a colourful bang.

Enzo was spray-painting something on the walls in the shower room, following his rude and physically impossible message spray-painted on the inside of the door that he was still snickering to himself about. 

Mattheo was systematically unlocking all of the cupboards, and placing a different bad-luck hex on every single piece of equipment. After leaving a sporadic spiral-dive hex on one of the brooms and putting it back, you’d had enough. 

Sweeping your hair out of your eyes, you stood, making your way over to his side. “Matty…”

“Yeah, baby?” He was distracted as he mumbled his response, careful wand-work as he charmed one of the beater’s bats to flop like wet spaghetti every time they tried to hit something. 

“Mattheo.”

At your tone, and the use of his full name, he looked up. He took in the nervous expression on your face, the sad and pouty frown on your lips, and sighed. “What’s the matter?”

“Don’t you think this is a bit much?”

“They were talking shit about us!”

“You're risking really hurting someone, though!” You gestured around, from his handiwork to the broken window and glass fragments on the floor. “You’re actually damaging school property!”

“A few spells will have it cleaned up in no time. Don’t be dramatic.”

You gaped at him for a second, before walking away, turning your back to him and plopping down back onto the bench with a huff. Behind you, you heard him kick something, swearing under his breath, before he stepped back into your sight. When you didn’t look up at him, he dropped down to his knees, forcing himself into your line of vision. 

He has his puppy dog eyes on, and pressed a kiss to each of your hands as he took them in his own. “I didn’t mean it like that, pretty girl. I just meant… you don’t get it. This is what we do. You’re just too sweet for this, you wouldn't hurt a fly. But this could be so much worse, it’s all a bit of fun, just trust me, yeah? I’m getting them back, for me, and for you.”

“But it’s a lot. And I never asked you to get even for me.” You whispered, and he nodded. 

“You don’t have to ask. I protect you, that’s what I do. It’s you and me, baby. For life.” You softened a little at that, and he noticed, his smile growing again as he knelt up, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips. “I won’t do anymore, how’s that? I’ll round up the boys, and we’ll get out of—”

Just then, voices flickered through the room. The angry, panicked shouting of at least six different people, rapidly got louder as they neared the space you occupied. Enzo clambered up onto one of the window ledges, and peered out of the broken glass. “Oh, shit. They know. ‘Least ten Lions, coming this way. And fast. Fucking go!”

The first spell bounced through the open glass, sending shards flying as it caught the last of the jagged spikes still on the frame, just as Enzo ducked out of the way. Theo scrabbled past, and out of the back door, Enzo quickly following, and you jumped to your feet as Mattheo did. 

Another spell burst through, bouncing on the locked door, and the muffled voices of your accomplices felt a million miles away as fear struck through your body. The door rattled again, the lock creaking as the half-arsed spell they’d sealed it with threatened to give way. The pounding of your heart in your chest was deafening, roaring in your ears—

Then, a hand clamped down on yours, pulling you along. “Baby girl, let’s go! Come on, what are you doing?”

Mattheo tugged on your hand, like a splash of cold water the jolt he made snapped you to your senses. You stumbled after him, staring at his bouncing curls and the flush of his cheeks as he looked at you, guiding you out of the backdoor and into the night. Stumbling down the hill, the two of you ran so fast you almost fell several times, angry shouts following you out into the night as flashes and flickers of bright spells whizzed past you constantly. 

You let Mattheo guide you, running until your lungs burned and your chest ached from your pounding heart, but you’d lost them. You’d lost Theo and Enzo, too. Silence shrouded you both as you finally came to a stop, only the lapping water at the shore of the lake and both of your soft pants to break the heavy quiet.

He turned to you, one hand lifting to tuck some hair behind your ear, and you glared at him as he leaned in to kiss one of your no-doubt flushed cheeks. 

“You are so beautiful.” He whispered, knuckles still tracing up and down your jaw as he stared at you under the moonlight. 

“I’m so mad at you for that. I hate running, and panicking, and vandalising. All the things I hate, you just wrapped ‘em up in one.”

He smiled something wicked, and leaned in, to bump his nose with your own. “You love me, though.”

“Debatable, right now.” Your scoff was lost as he pressed soft kisses to your lips, coaxing you into remembering just how much you loved him. You were ashamed to say that it worked, as you parted your mouth a little more to reciprocate. 

You felt his smile pressed to your mouth as he did, that hand on your cheek smoothing out, fingers in your hair as he cupped your head, and angled your face for a deeper kiss. 

You were once again both panting by the time he pulled away, satisfied and smitten. 

“Come on, my angry girl. Let’s go for that walk now, yeah? Just me and you for a stroll around the lake.”

You winced as another cracking sounded out, the echo of Mattheo’s fist against the cocky Ravenclaw’s jaw had your stomach rolling. A boy you’d never much cared about. He was entitled and arrogant, and tended to run his mouth a little too much. He thought he was the best thing to grace the halls of Hogwarts, and a blessing to womankind, and you’d caught his eyes on you a couple of times. 

Of course, you’d never mentioned as much to Mattheo, in hopes of sparing him this exact situation. Mattheo didn’t take kindly to lingering gazes, and he didn’t tolerate leering ones at all. He was protective, overprotective, and he was a little bit crazy. He was also in love, and in his opinion, the cat-call the Ravenclaw had given to you and the choice words he’d accompanied it had crossed a line.

And they said Ravenclaws were the smart ones.

So, Mattheo hadn't hesitated. He’d dropped your hand, curled it into a fist, and swung on the boy before he’d even finished smirking at your shocked look. 

Now, you were sighing, as he took the Ravenclaw down to the ground, uncaring of the blow to his shoulder as the two rolled over the stone floors. Scuffling and throwing blows, a crowd formed around them, jostling you endlessly from side to side. He was winning, as always, beating the poor boy into the same blue as his house banners, and no amount of pleading on your behalf to just drop it was going to stop him now. 

You should’ve been halfway to Hogsmeade by now. You’d never make your reservation, and you’d gotten yourself all dressed up for nothing. Hours wasted on hair and make-up and picking out the perfect outfit for this date, all for Mattheo’s impulsive temper and one gross creep to ruin it.

The two continued to brawl, fists slamming, feet kicking, and blood splattering as the crowd cheered and shouted so loud it was deafening. You’d learnt it the hard way a long time ago that you couldn't do anything to stop him now, not when he got into this state, without risking getting hurt yourself. All you could do was wait, and hope.

Finally, the Gryffindor prefect stepped in. He was a sturdy man, broad-shouldered and thick-muscled, as was his friend, as the two grabbed for one of Mattheo’s arms each, pulling him off and to his feet. Blood streamed from his nose, and he grinned, pink tainting his teeth before he spat at the boy curling up on the floor. 

“You be fucking glad they stopped me, because I wouldn't have!” 

“For fuck’s sake…” You muttered, the heat of embarrassment crawling up your cheeks as several gazes fell on you. Elbowing his way through the crowd was an equally red Professor Slughorn, but his flush was from anger. 

“Riddle! Of course, it’s a Riddle. You can take yourself to detention.”

A whine slipped free from your throat as you crossed your arms over your chest. Mattheo attempted to shake off the two prefects, wiping his nose with his sleeve and wincing at the feeling. He shrugged, “I can’t tonight, professor. I have plans.”

“I don’t care! Detention, now!” 

Stepping over the Ravenclaw still whimpering at your feet, Mattheo smiled what you assumed was supposed to be a seductive grin at you as you neared him. With the split of his lip, the stain of dried blood on his face, and the splotchy swelling along his nose and jaw, it didn’t quite hit the mark anymore. You were too angry to fall for it. 

“So you’re bailing on our date, again?” Your lip wobbled, arms crossed your chest as you tried to glare at him, but the stinging in your throat betrayed you as your voice cracked. 

“Don’t cry, baby, you did your make-up so nice. I’ll make it up to you, I swear.” He leaned in, lowering his voice in an attempt for intimacy, despite the Gryffindors tugging on his arms. “I love you.”

You sighed, but released your anger, cupping his face softly so as not to aggravate the painful patches further. “I love you too.”

His lips barely brushed your own before Slughorn was grabbing him by his collar, and yanking him away through the crowds towards detention. Once he was gone, the cowering boy on the floor dragged himself to his feet, his friends hauling him away, and he made the wise decision not to even glance in your direction. 

Even as the crowd parted and you made your way back to your dorm, the lingering feeling of anger petered out to immense disappointment. 

Your reflection was frowning as you stared at yourself in the mirror, pretty outfit and stunning makeup, all going to waste while your boyfriend rotted the night away in detention. 

Detention. 

The same place where your relationship had started, and a ridiculous idea began to root itself in your mind. Tipping out the contents of your school bag, your books and quills scattered across the bedding, and you repacked it with what you’d need instead. 

With a fresh spritz of perfume and a new swipe of lipgloss, you left your dorm, heels clicking against the stone as you hurried yourself along on your mission. The doors were spelled against sneaking out of detention, but sneaking in was surely a different case. 

Your suspicions were confirmed as you pushed the door open, the loud creak echoing through the room, but you were granted entry as you stepped inside. The door slammed shut behind you, and yet, Flitwick didn’t so much as flinch from where he was snoozing atop the desk at the front of the classroom. Mattheo watched with widening eyes and tissues pressed to his nose as you walked through the aisles and took a seat beside him at the desk he’d claimed as his own. 

“What’re you doin’ here, baby?”

You scoffed at his muffled voice, swinging your bag off your shoulder and onto the desk, before sitting down. Taking his hands in your own, you pulled them back, inspecting the damage he’d made to his pretty face. “It’s date night. I wasn’t going to let you sit in here all alone, when I put effort into looking this good.”

Your whispered words made him grin, and you took the tissues from his hands, dabbling softly at the last of the blood. When it was gone, you rifled through your bag instead, producing a small vial of swirling purple liquid. Upon seeing it, he groaned. “Oh, no, I hate those. They taste gross and musty.”

“Maybe if you hadn't done this to yourself, you wouldn't have to take it.” You uncapped the vial, and as the smell drifted to him, he gagged. You raised it to his lips, and he offered a sullen look but parted them for you to tip it into his mouth. Swallowing it came with a grimace, and you wiped your thumb over his lips to get rid of the sticky residue it left. Within seconds, the swelling on his jaw was going down, the cut on his nose was healing over, and the nasty bruising under his eyes was fading away. “That’s better. My pretty boy is back.”

He blushed at that but offered a cheeky grin, and leaned in to kiss you sweetly. Before his lips could meet yours, you swerved, and he grunted unhappily as his mouth landed on your cheek instead. 

“You’re not kissing me while you still taste like that gross potion.”

“Typical.” He mumbled, but left a few more peppered kisses along your jaw. You worked as he did, laying out the various snacks you’d brought with you along the table, and as he caught sight of the chocolate frog, an excited gasp slipped free. He snatched the frog up quickly, tearing off the foil wrapper and snapping off a leg. 

He lifted it to your lips, always offering you the first bite, and you let him feed it to you while he watched on. Happy you’d taken it, he snapped off another, dropping the chunk into his mouth and chewing happily. 

“God, I love you so fucking much,” He sighed as he finished eating, finally leaning in to claim this kiss he had been denied earlier. “I’m gonna’ marry you someday.”

“Yeah, and you’ll probably get yourself arrested on the big day.” Your voice was bitter but your smile was the same as whenever he talked of his plans or your joint future. He knew you were bluffing too, closing the gap between you both once again, and nipping gently on your bottom lip. 

“I always come back to you though, baby.”

That made you kiss him properly because you had no retort to offer. It was true, he always found his way back to you. He was crazy, reckless, and impulsive, but he was in love with you, and he didn’t care to hide it. 

Not from the others in the detention room, not from the people in the halls, not from anyone on this earth. It was the two of you together, he’d never leave you behind or let you down, and you could trust him in that. 

So, maybe he did prove ‘em right. But he also proved you right. Mattheo Riddle was so much more than they all said he was. He was loyal and loving, and he was yours.

[italiangirlcoresblog]

main masterlist \\ lando masterlist

-----------------••✩🍪☕️🩹✩••----------------

𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐞

✩ : everyone has been speculating about a possible relationship between you and lando, but neither of you ever confirmed anything — until the infamous hard launch

𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦 : @ tatemcrae on ig

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭. : lando norris

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : humor, mature

✍︎ : sports car has my heart and soul, so might as well give it a smau too

OR

me still procrastinating lando's fic

-------------------------❦︎-------------------------

itsynbitch

Liked by oliviarodrigo, chappellroan, lando and 229,997 others

itsynbitch it's lights out and away we go

View all 963 comments

oliviarodrigo can't wait 😍

♥︎ by itsynbitch

username1 OMG???

username2 let's take a few steps back shall we

username3 i'm so confused

username4 i think we all are

username5 wait what did i miss

username6 HOW DID WE GET HERE

username7 biker y/n!?

username8 more like f1 y/n with that caption

username9 wdym

username10 it's the line croft always says at the start of the races

username11 imagine if it's the theme for her new album

username12 girl I WISH

username13 hey siri, how to become the guy in this reel?

username14 reel ❌️ real ✅️

username15 i hope he knows how lucky he is

♥︎ by lando

username16 DAMN ALRIGHT HAHAHA

username17 i wasn't expecting that

username18 he's not wrong tho

username19 lando we see you brother

username20 you're all of us

username21 whatever this means i'm here for it

chappellroan ICON

♥︎ by itsynbitch

itsynbitch

Liked by oliviarodrigo, chappellroan, lando and 1,240,114 others

itsynbitch "2 hands" OUT THIS FRIDAY

stay tuned 🧡

View all 13,437 comments

username22 this did something to me

username23 you mean i have to wait a WHOLE WEEK for this masterpiece?

username24 technically it's just four days ☝️🤓

username25 still way too long 😔

username26 screw my finals, y/n's new single release date just dropped

itsynbitch keep studying kids

username27 if y/n says it, we shall comply

username28 i'd have all straight As if she asked me to

username29 divided by countries, united by mommy issues

lando orange suits you

♥︎ by itsynbitch

itsynbitch my favorite 🧡

username30 chat are they flirting in broad daylight

username31 she meant the color... RIGHT?

username32 y/n babe that was pretty misunderstandable

username33 WHY ARE WE IGNORING LANDO’S COMMENT HELLO

username34 my man just wanted to shoot his shot

username35 honestly if i were him i'd go for it too

username36 papaya reference anyone!?

username37 i was literally thinking the same thing

username38 i have no one to talk to about this

username39 same 😭

username40 mother delivered as always

username41 LET'S GO 🏎💨

username42 buckle up, we're in for one crazy ass ride

f1gossippofficial

69,654 likes

f1gossippofficial some clips from y/n's tiktok. does the car look familiar to you? 👀

View all 7,710 comments

username43 that's a whole ass mclaren right there

username44 that's not just ANY mclaren that's LANDO’S mclaren

username45 according to who?

username46 there's literally his number printed on it 💀

username47 "iT CouLD Be a CoiNCiDeNCe" no it couldn't shut up

username48 you people really need to chill

username49 just stating the obvious

username50 y/n x mclaren collab is something i didn't know i needed

username51 what a great time to be fan of both

username52 fr we're being blessed with this content

username53 this is great and all but are we not gonna talk about lando's "good taste in cars"?

username54 I WAS HOPING SOMEONE WOULD MENTION IT

username55 i knew you'd bring this up lol

username56 and y/n replying "well thank you" like AAAAA

username57 what's so special about it

username58 1. we got more y/n x lando content and 2. THEY WERE OBVIOUSLY FLIRTING

username59 norris fangirl detected, opinion rejected

username60 the way i could smell the comments from a mile away

username61 cry about it

lando

♫︎ y/n • 2 hands [E]

Liked by oscarpiastri, carlossainz55, itsynbitch and 877,168 others

lando bangher

View all 11,909 comments

oscarpiastri mate i think you misspelled it

lando no i didn't

username62 oscar trying to gentle parent lando out of his dyslexia

username63 dorks

username64 as a landoscar fan this is everything

username65 pause. rewind. NO HE DIDN'T

username66 did what

username67 GUYS IT'S BANG—HER

username68 omg are you serious

username69 oh he was smooth with it

username70 if this is about y/n i swear

username71 WHY WOULD IT BE

username72 idk maybe because he used her song???

username73 some of you are actually sick

carlossainz55 🤨

username74 carlos is just as confused as us

username75 lando sponsoring his girlfriend's single 🥰

username76 WHAT ARE THEY TOGETHER!?

username77 no they're not stop assuming things it's weird af

username78 then why would he even use it?

username79 because it is, in fact, a banger, AND HE JUST FUCKING MISSPELLED IT

username80 ok but what about y/n also being in the likes

username81 e x a c t l y

username82 everyone arguing in the comments:

me vibing to 2 hands: 💃💃💃

itsynbitch

Liked by lando, oliviarodrigo, chappellroan and 891,472 others

itsynbitch life lately ✨️✨️✨️

View all 12,670 comments

username83 man lando did not waste one second

username84 he came here faster than he won in singapore

username85 he was in the likes before y/n even posted

username86 miss gurl that's a lot of orange

username87 @ mclaren just take her as your ambassador already

mclaren we'll think about it 😉

username88 ADMIN WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE

username89 y/n feeding us crumbs until the big reveal

username90 me acting surprised when she'll confirm the lando rumors: 😮

username91 no way you've been banging dating in secret who would've thought right

username92 i can't with y'all 😭

username93 don't mind me just staring at the jacket in the first slide and trying to understand where i've seen it before

username94 i knew it looked familiar

username95 born to say lando, forced to stay silent and act clueless

username96 IT'S SO OBVIOUS IT'S PAINFUL

username97 pros and cons of being a lando fangirl

username98 truly a blessing and a curse 😔

username99 y/n might have good taste in cars but lando sure as hell got good taste in women

username100 you can't really go wrong with her can you?

username101 i fear she's everybody's type

f1gossippofficial

97,407 likes

f1gossippofficial 🚨 BREAKING: lando norris seen carrying the same rhode lip phone case shown in y/n's story before they were caught partying together by a fan

WATCH VIDEO ▶️

View all 8,325 comments

username102 god forbid someone else other than her has a rhode lip phone case

username103 you're pushing it way too far now

username104 i'll never understand why we normalized shoving our phones in famous people's faces

username105 lando literally ran away poor baby

username106 the way they immediately tried to hide when they saw the camera

username107 they both looked so uncomfortable please leave them alone

username108 if they want to keep their relationship secret they clearly have their reasons

username109 listen they're probably not even dating but you decided they are and you forced it on them

username110 stop playing matchmaker for them it's getting out of hand

username111 i was getting all excited about them as a couple but then i opened the comments

username112 hey at least now we know they're together

username113 idc what everybody else says a win is a win

username114 imagine them scrolling through these and laughing at how dumb you all sound

username115 lando was probably busy remixing y/n's songs at the club

itsynbitch

♫︎ y/n • sports car

Liked by lando, oliviarodrigo, chappellroan and 2,377,677 others

itsynbitch "sports car" song and mv 🏎🏁 OUT NOW

~ it was a pleasure working with you @ lando

View all 17,809 comments

username116 so... i wasn't exactly expecting all of that

username117 I THOUGHT SHE ACCIDENTALLY LEAKED A SEX TAPE WTF

username118 how else do you wanna call it?

username119 okay but i don't think this was accidental 😃

username120 are we paying for this?

username121 so lando did start onlyfans after all

username122 he's multi-tasking

username123 f1 driver by day, whore by night

username124 i might've seen a reflection of lando’s weenie in the window and i fear the image is now stuck in my head forever

oscarpiastri same

carlossainz55 yeah

maxverstappen1 i agree

charles_leclerc unfortunately

username125 I'M CRYING

username126 the drivers being traumatized for life: a series

lando pleasure's mine @ itsynbitch

itsynbitch i know

♥︎ by lando

username127 WE KNOW TOO

username128 she's the man in the relationship

username129 how do i achieve this level of mothering?

username130 they really uh-uhed in it huh

username131 💀💀💀

username132 the fact that they probably weren't even faking it

itsynbitch take the "probably" out

username133 GIRL

username134 hard launch ❌️ hard while launching ✅️

username135 HAHAHAHAHA

lando good one

username136 boy what 😭

lando

Liked by itsynbitch, carlossainz55, oscarpiastri and 1,081,828 others

lando finally made it on main

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username137 "finally" mf wanted to simp over his girlfriend in public so bad

username138 can't blame him tbh

username139 MY SHIP HAS OFFICIALLY SAILED

username140 wasn't the mv clear enough 🤨

username141 i mean all singers do that

username142 ... no?

username143 they could've been just banging buddies

username144 banging buddies 💀

lando i love when you guys get creative like this

username145 lando trying to make us forget what we saw in that video:

oscarpiastri i wish i could forget

username146 this will haunt him forever

username147 poor oscar witnessed things he was never supposed to

username148 new nightmare unlocked

username149 CUTIES

username150 i wanna cuddle with lando like that too

lando cuddles reserved to y/n only

♥︎ by itsynbitch

username151 AWWW

username152 couple goals

username153 LOOK AT HOW HAPPY SHE IS

username154 my shayla 😭💖

itsynbitch

Liked by lando, oliviarodrigo, chappellroan and 1,398,755 others

itsynbitch my silly boy

View all 15,897 comments

oliviarodrigo favorites ❤️

♥︎ by itsynbitch

lando i love you

♥︎ by itsynbitch

lando i looove you

♥︎ by itsynbitch

lando I LOVE YOU

itsynbitch alright baby i love you too

♥︎ by lando

username155 you know what that is? SIMPly lovely

username156 wait that's so mean (do it again)

username157 max from his private account:

username158 lando will never live it down

username159 the 4 on lando's shirt 🥺

username160 "my silly boy" MY HEART

username161 they look so good together

username162 ikr???

username163 they just make so much sense

username164 freaky and freaky lover

username165 my bisexual awakening i fear

username166 POOKIES

username167 they're so very dear to me

username168 LANDO’S NOSE SCRUNCH

username169 he's just a little bunny

username170 i wanna bite his face

itsynbitch only i get to do that sorry

lando jealous much?

lando KIDDING

lando please don't leave me

italiangirlcoresblog this man has ZERO shame

-----------------••✩🍪☕️🩹✩••----------------

©italiangirlcoresblog // do not copy, rewrite, or translate any of my work on any platforms

[thecoochiefairy]

nola. onyankopon.

𑄽𑄺 warnings 𑄽𑄺 18.0K word count. blackfem!character, college football coded! onyankopon, grumpy! onyankopon, sweet!onyankopon, third person omniscient, dominant!onyankopon, friends to lovers trope, sandbox love, black woman, vaginal penetration, lil bit of sweet talkin’, hair pulling, creaming, oral [f] [m], choking, praising, LOTS of dirty talk, squirting, riding, backshots, condomless sex, kissing, spanking, minors aren’t welcome!

━━ 𝒄𝙤𝒐𝙘𝒉𝙞𝒆𝙛𝒂𝙞𝒓𝙮 𝙩𝒉𝙤𝒖𝙜𝒉𝙩𝒔 .ᐟ so, i know i was been supposed to give y’all an official onyankopon fic. i’m sorry it took so long. i changed the entire idea i had, and honestly? i enjoyed writing this one so much better. haven’t been able to dip my toe into strictly black characters since my actual book new salem, and i missed pure nigga-try! also, thank y’all for 3K followers. i love every single one of you. enjoy! 🫶🏽

visual. visual. visual.

BENEATH THE LIGHTS WAS WHERE SHE BELONGED. The squeaking of her feet scuffled along the shined mahogany wood as she tuned out the many voices—from cheering, to the coach calling out plays, or pure enjoyment from the game. This was her element. 

Scrimmages were just as important to her, the bleachers filling with college students as if it were a regular game. Eyes watched the most valuable player move across the court with a choreography more beautiful than a dancer—their point guard.

The ball was like metal—a magnet in her fingers as she passed it to the next player, awaiting for it to somehow appear back in her palms. But she couldn’t stop her eyes from traveling up to the bleachers. She always searched for his figure to be seated in between his friend group, watching her just as much as she waited for him. 

Black leather varsity jacket with yellow embroidery, his name and number on the back like a symbol—‘ONYANKOPON.’ 

Golden grills shone beneath the light of his full goatee and dark pink lips, bone straight smile more flattering than the devils. His durag tied into a knot along the back of his head, his outfit more relaxed as he’d just come from practice—He’d never miss her games. 

He sat there amongst the many of his own teammates. His gaze was focused on her, following her movements as they were almost seductive. 

It never failed that she’d eventually look in his direction. It was always a battle between who would look away first—This time, it was her. Her eyes glanced over him every so often, her heart racing whenever their gazes met. But the game was as vital as the air that filled her nostrils, and no amount of admiring him could pull her from it.

Her fingers grip the basketball that’s thrown back into her palms, having to quickly regain control before it went straight into the opposing team’s hands. She was like the cherry on top, gliding through bodies along the court as she made her way closer to the edge, her low height more  powerful than the taller women as she tossed the ball towards the hoop.

The crowd was watching poetry in the making, the way her legs pushed against the floor and the ball leaving her fingers in an effortless arc that sailed through the basket. Flawless. 

The suppression of her smile finally shined through her bratz shaped lips, listening to the crowd cheer as her team had won the scrimmage. Her eyes move over as she watches that varsity jacket beginning to stand from the bleachers, following behind his group of friends as they begin exiting the building. Something in her feels dejected.

But as the swarm of her other teammates come crowding her in an excited hug, she’s pulled back into the reality of her win—she could deal with that later.

She stands in the locker room as she’d just gotten out of the shower, kneeling her body against the bench as she searches her pale pink NIKE bag for her sweatshirt. She can feel a presence appear next to her, eyes turning up to her teammate—who was also her cousin and roommate—Peanut, smirking down at her.

“If you’ coming over here to talk shit, please find somebody else to play with.”

“I didn’t even say anything,” Peanut hides her smirk, “What? You’ all mad that your man didn’t stay until the end of the game?”

“You know that’s not my man,” she mutters, “I’m good. Why you’ in my business right now?”

“I’m in your business ‘cause I know you,” Peanut rolled her eyes, chocolate brown skin shining under the lights as she crossed her arms, “You wanna say that’s not your nigga while you’re over here moping cause he didn’t stay behind. Please.”

She begins pulling the black sweatshirt over her head, XAVIER UNIVERSITY OF LOUISIANA labeled in bold yellow beneath the material. Her curls are drenched from the shower, eyes tired as she looks to her cousin, “Are you done? Don’t you have somewhere else to be other than in my ass?”

“Not my fault you’re always so interesting,” Peanut teased, her body leaning against the locker next to her, “You’ve been playing basketball all day and still have the energy to be mean?”

“You’ right, I should be tired from carrying your plays. That’s why you have so much energy to come talk hot shit, none of that was focused on the court,” she zips up her bag, throwing it along her shoulder as she slips on her soft pink New Balances 9060 sneakers.

“I’d say that’s a little disrespectful,” Peanut grins, crossing her arms across her chest, “You only have the energy to play so well ‘cause I let you. Coach was paying attention to you, though. Did you see?”

She sighs, “I want her to pay enough attention that she has a scout come watch our games, Peanut. This shit is starting to feel like high school.”

Peanut scoffed, “I heard you got offers from LSU, Bama, and Howard, yet you chose to stay in New Orleans,” she said, “This? Ain’t high school.”

“I just wanted to be close to my mom,” she reminds her, “You know that.” 

“Or did you wanna be close to that childhood crush of yours?”

Her eyes narrow into a glare, closing her locker as she warns, “Don’t start again, Peanut.”

Yet, it was true. Her and Onyankopon had grown up together due to their families both being from 9th Ward. It was to her dismay that she was in love with him. 

Peanut put her hands up in surrender, “Chill. Chill,” she warns, “I’m just saying. Why’d he leave anyways? Doesn't he stay after?”

She could admit to herself that she wanted to hear how she looked on the court. Maybe she just wanted to hear it from someone’s opinion she always trusted—his.

She sighs, running her fingers through her hair as she replies, “I don’t know. Prolly’ still fuckin’ that big booty bitch on the Majorette team.”

“Oh girl, Ashleigh? Yeah—nah.” 

She raised an eyebrow, “You’ got tea?”

This childhood crush of hers was stereotypically wandering with his eyes, able to accept the advances of any woman that came his way. His current flavor of the month was a brown skinned, extremely curvaceous girl on the college's Majorette team, swinging her hips at all of his games. 

Peanut smirked, grabbing her own bag and began walking out of the locker room with her. A group of other girls on the team passed, waving goodbye to the two cousins. 

“Tea?” She echoed, “I got a whole story on that nigga. Apparently him and Ashleigh off again—he pissed her off, so she threatened to fuck one of his friends.”

That caused her to softly laugh, following beside Peanut as they began walking towards the dorms, “Whatever he did, he probably deserved to be threatened.”

“I love when I get you to actually laugh. You’re too serious these days.” 

They walked past the main library of the school which was always packed with students, the yellow and white building gleaming in the night. Their dorm was just past it. 

“Why don’t you wanna fuck him again? The boy is 90s fine.” 

“Cause I’m not big booty Ashleigh,” she retorts, “To deal with him and his flock of hoes? I’d kill that nigga before he ever played with me.”

“I’d kill him too, I ain’t judging,” Peanut said, “But I’ll tell you what, you’re not big booty Ashleigh—you’re just a big booty, and that’s why he actually looks at you. You know those flocks of hoes are just a front, right? Those girls don’t mean anything to him,”  She looked over at her again, “You do.”

“Here you go—talking again,” she mutters, “You’ watch too many of them’ K-Dramas.”

“This ain’t no K-Drama—it’s real life!” Peanut protested, her hand waving in the air, “You’re the only one he doesn’t treat like a passing phase. He’s been ‘round you for what? Fifteen years?”

“Because he knows our family, Peanut. My uncle—your father—would shoot his ass on sight if he played with me the way he plays with girls on campus. I’m good on that. I got WNBA to get into,” she shrugs, circling her body around, childishly throwing an air ball into the sky.

“Yeah, Yeah—All that is cool. Is that what’s holding you back from liking a nigga?”

“I’d fuck a ball before I fucked him,” she finalizes, “I wanna go ice my ankle. You’ cooking tonight?”

“Sorry, cousin. I’m actually going over to my niggas house,” she playfully mocks the air ball she threw, beginning to back her way towards the other dorms, “Gon’ head and order something for me, though!”

She frowns, a bit bummed since this was her cousin's third night being out of their dorm, leaving her to either study, or watch K-Dramas by herself. She could admit that she was a bit lonely. 

“You ain’t getting shit!” She called back, “Have your nigga feed you!”

“You have a nigga feed you, lonely ass!” She yelled back, causing a few students to glance towards them, “Don’t be mad ‘cause you don’t know what a relationship feels like!” 

Peanut continued to walk away, tossing a hand over her shoulder to wave, “Love you, Sweetpea!”

She’s suffocated by that nickname, following her from elementary school to college. This was her senior year, and she still couldn’t get away from it. Her shoulders fall a bit as she waves back to her, acrylic nails glittering under the streetlights hovered over the dorms, her tattooed fingers and emerald golden ring glinting with it.

 Her eyes turn as she sees a familiar figure walking towards the dorms with his friends—he was finer up close. The yellow embroidery on his varsity jacket went well with his brown skin, facial hair, grills partnering with his sharp jawline. The tattoos along his face should’ve been intimidating, but made him scarily more attractive. He was tall, always slouching to make her more comfortable. She tries to turn as if she didn’t see him, beginning to make her way towards the stairs of the dorm. 

“For real? You’ finna’ ignore a nigga?”

She tongues the inside of her cheek, turning back as she eyes him up and down. She then says, “Just tryna’ get inside and start on this homework.”

His eyes followed every movement of hers, the way the dim light of the evening casted a hazy hue across her caramel skin, her onyx hair swaying along her body as she turned towards him.

“Homework, huh?” He echoed, walking up the last of the stairs to meet her at the top, “I been waiting to see you all day, you ain’t even gon’ say wassup?” 

“Wrong,” she corrects, “If you wanted to see me, you would’ve waited until the game was over, Onyankopon.”

“My lil’ grumpy ass Sweetpea…” He chided, a smirk playing on his full lips as he stepped in front of her, “Don’t act like I wasn’t in the bleachers for the whole game. Coach called for a meeting.”

She narrows her eyes, “Uh-huh. Why don’t you go back to your friends?”

“Ain’t never see you so eager to get rid of me,” He said through a deep chuckle, “You mad for real?” 

She doesn’t want to admit why she’s actually upset. But if she doesn’t, he’s gonna pry it out of her anyways. Her voice is still rough around the edges as she states, “You didn’t tell me how I played today. That’s why I wanted you there after.”

“You played good as fuck like you always do,” He began, taking another step into her personal space, “Them’ other girls ain’t shit. You ain’t need me to tell you that, though.”

She tightens her fingers around her duffle as she releases a breath, “You mean that? Good enough for a scout?”

“Girl, ain’t no question about that,” He smacks his lips, “You’ so good they’d be stupid not to sign you. Them’ bitches were tryna’ play catch-up the whole time. WNBA can’t wait for your ass to drop.”

“Ony,” she warns his language as he refers to the other girls. She takes his words to heart as she always did—he was the one person that she valued in their opinion. 

“My fault. But you know I’d never bullshit you,” he murmured, his other hand coming forward to grab the nape of her neck, “You finna’ go far.”

A pressure in her chest appears at his large palm against her neck—it feels warm. Good. 

Sweetpea smacks her lips as she pulls his arm down, “Where yo’ lil’ girlfriend at, Onyankopon?”

He raises an eyebrow, “You keepin’ tabs on me now?” He questioned, a smirk forming, “Thought you were just focused on the court and your homework. Why you worried about who I got?”

“You’ think I’m worried about a hoe ass nigga? ‘Forget I asked,” she scrunches her nose, returning to making her way fully up the steps.

“Nah nah, you brought it up,” He followed a step behind her, “Why’ you even wanna know ‘bout me and whoever I’m talkin to?”

She pushes the entrance to her dorm, looking back to his group of friends that begin walking away as she changes the subject, “Your friends are leaving, Onyankopon. Can I go inside?”

“You got questions about me and other girls—now you tryna’ run inside,” He pointed out, “Can’t you just say that you missed me?”

“Girls?” She repeats, “Huh. I don’t need my question answered then.” 

The minute she passes by a couple of people with a polite wave, she’s unable to escape the large arm that traps her along the wall just before she can make it to her room door. He places it against the wall, stopping her from walking which makes her back press against it. His cologne hovers over her body as he leans down towards her, making Sweetpea somehow back herself into the wall she was already against.

“Why you always runnin’ away?” He asked, his voice deep, “You think you got a nigga all figured out?” 

He chuckled, the low noise filling her ears. He moved forward, the heat of his body close enough for her to feel it against his own, “Or you don’t like bein’ reminded that you care what I do?”

She can’t admit to him that she’s…the least bit curious for her own entertainment. It wasn’t because of anything else. 

….It wasn’t.

She blinks, “I actually don’t care. Peanut told me your lil’ big booty girl threatened to fuck one of your friends. What’d you do to piss her off?” She raises an eyebrow.

“Damn Peanut,” He muttered,, “I knew I shouldn’t’ve let her know I hooked up with Ashleigh.” 

He rolled his tongue out his mouth,“You wanna know why she was mad at me?”

“Answer the question or I go inside. I’m getting impatient,” she reminds, placing her weight along her feet as she prepares to move his arm, watching as he places his palm right beside her head now. She lets out a heavy sigh.

“She’ mad I’m not acting like her nigga,” He smirked at the way her face scrunched up slightly in frustration, “She’s too obsessed with me.”

“Oh? The world is still Onyankopon Land in that head of yours?” She raises an eyebrow, sarcastically smiling at him.

He looked down with a smile, finding her scowl endearing somehow. 

“I get it now. I know you don’t like me havin’ girlfriends'. My bad, Mama.”

That nickname. And that sentence. It makes a chill rush down her spine. But instead, she pushes out a laugh with her eyebrows raised, pushing past his arm as she begins unlocking her door, “Boy, go home. You’re playing bad as fuck right now.”

His eyes move as she opens her door and steps in, preparing to close it as he then places a sneaker in between the opening before suddenly asking, “Your’ ankle hurt?”

She doesn’t expect the question as she frowns, “Is that your way of asking to come inside? I’m good,” she attempts to close the door.

“It’s a way of sayin’ a nigga worried ‘bout you,” he frowned back, “You can’t blame me after I saw you limp on that ankle during the game.”

She flutters her lashes up, searching around his face as she reads the more serious tone of his expression. Her ankle had been a little weak with all the practices and games, but it was nothing she worried too much about. 

She slides her fingers against the door as she repeats more softly, “I’m fine, Ony. For real.”

“Lemme look at it,” He said, “I can see how swollen it’s gettin’.”

The tone of his voice was soft, but there was also a sternness to it. This nigga was worried about her ankle, forreal.

She glances around her empty apartment before she exhales, opening the door wider to let him in. She places her bag against the kitchen island as she grabs her Hello Kitty ice packet, making her way towards the sofa to sit.

He follows her inside, hands stuffed into the pockets of his varsity jacket. He sits down on the sofa beside her, the soft cushion dipping under his large frame as he eyes her ankle.

“C’mon,” he gruffs, motioning for her to place her leg on his lap.

She places her leg against his lap, beginning to feel the curls of her hair drying up, blowing a tendril out of her face as she fully plopped down next to him. She says, “I think I was just moving too fast.”

He gently holds onto her ankle as she rests it across his lap, his large palm wrapping completely around it. His dark lashes lowered over his eyes as he examined the ankle, his expression neutral. 

“You been doin’ a lot lately,” he lightly touched certain areas on her foot, “The coach got you runnin’ too many drills or somethin’?”

“I just wanna be ready for the game coming up. Coach might bring scouts, you know?” She brings her eyes up to him, “I can take a lil’ pain in that case.”

“And if that pain turns into a damn injury ‘cause your dumbass wanna push too hard,” He challenged, “Then what?”

She gives him a deadpan look, “Now you sound like Peanut.” 

When he twists the ankle around, something in her body alarms itself in a sharp pain, which makes her inhale a breath, attempting to jerk her leg back from him as she piercingly inhales. 

“Nah, don’t do that,” he said with a grunt, his thumb and index finger feeling around for the source of her wince, “What’d ‘you just feel?”

“You’re making it hurt,” pushing his hand away, she tried to stop herself from panicking at the small pain.

He ignored her hand as he continued to hold her ankle, looking up at her face with a serious tone, “Chill out. I need you to tell me exactly where the pain is. You can’t just be playin’ with your fuckin’ ankle.”

As much as he clowned around, she wasn’t the one to bite when he got serious. She points towards the back of her ankle as she softly replies, “Here.”

“You know you gotta ice that more,” he scolded, “Bein’ stubborn all the time ain’t gonna’ get you ‘round the court faster.“

“I know,” she nods, relaxing more as she allows him to lightly massage the area. Her toes nearly curled as it felt so good, she had to dig her fingers in her thigh a bit not to react. 

She tries to bring up the subject again, “You’ really like Ashleigh?”

His fingers paused as she asked the question, his honey eyes looking up at her. 

“You still worried ‘bout that?” He shook his head before he began massaging the area again, “She a lil’ too extra.”

“Maybe you should be nicer to her. That way she isn’t always screaming at you,” Sweetpea suggests, “You’ be having them girls losing their minds. I too would crash out on you.”

Despite what she might think of him, he could tell she was actually being serious. He was used to all the jokes, the sarcasm, and the usual smartass replies she always fired back with. 

He rolled his tongue along his lower lip again with a smirk, “You’d crash out over me, huh?”

“I’m serious, Ony.”

She ignores the way her face goes warm, “You’ve had your attention on her for more than a month now—which is longer than your attentiveness with any girl. So don’t mess that up by…being you.”

A low chuckle slips from his full lips, “You tellin’ me to stop bein’ too cool for my own good? Since when you’ start liking Ashleigh?” 

“I ain’t saying I like her—I’m just saying.”

He leans back a little more on the sofa, his hands pausing their working on her ankle. He raises an eyebrow at her, a smile on his face, “You worried about me, huh?”

“You say me playing around on the court won’t get me anywhere but an injury, I could say the same for you. Quit playing with that girl's heart if you don’t actually like her. Somebody’s gonna come along that you might actually like, and when they pull a you on you,  it’s gonna hurt.”

He kept his eyes on her ankle, silently nodding as she lectured him. This would be the one time he didn’t want to fire back with a smart remark as the seriousness in her voice made him feel a bit scolded. 

“You ever think you were made for some sorta advice hotline?” he finally mumbled, “You tryna’ be my life coach now?”

She rolled her eyes, giving a soft giggle as she replied, “Being a good person is free as fuck.”

He let out another low chuckle, his expression softening a bit at the sound of her laugh. 

“You ain’t wrong,” he says quietly, his large fingers continuing to massage her ankle, “But she knew I didn’t want nothin’ serious with her from the jump. Not my fault if she got it twisted somewhere in the process. She just started saying I was her nigga.”

“Well, did you make her feel like you were?” She raises an eyebrow, “Did you say no when she called you that?”

He shrugged his shoulders indifferently, a nonchalant look on his face, “I don’t take it seriously when a girl calls me they’ boyfriend. Probably be fuckin’ them too good.”

She tilts her head, “Boy, bye. You ain’t giving bitches that type of dick—And maybe you should clarify you’re not their boyfriend? Don’t leave the door revolving, otherwise it causes miscommunication.”

“Shiiidd, I be havin’ them like—Oooohshit, Daddy,” he mockingly moans, tickling her ankle which makes her giggle again. 

She shakes her head, “I didn’t need to know all that. But I meant what I said—if  you don’t want them seriously, tell them that, Ony. That’s all.”

“You done preachin’ to me now?”

“No, I’m not. Since you’ so worried about my health, have you been going to physical therapy Mr. I almost tore my ACL last year? Is it giving you any issues on the field?” 

“It happened more than a year and a half ago,” he glares, “Why you’ bringing that up?”

“Cause I know how much it scares you to be without football,” she points out, “And if you can admit to loving something, football is that.”

He didn’t respond for a moment, his dark eyes staring down at her ankle as he massaged it. He didn’t realize that she had known him that well. 

He finally sighs, “I go to my physical therapy. I’ve been taking rest days and shit. Happy?”

She could tell he wanted to leave it there. So, she does. When she nods her head, that cocky grin appears back on his face as he asks, “You’ coming to my game tomorrow?”

“I’d never miss it. You know that.”

“Damn right you ain’t,” he responded, the smirk remaining on his lips, “You’ betta’ be in the stands cheerin’ like hell for me.”

“Let’s not say all that,” she laughs, “But I’ll be there.” 

His smile widened at the sound of her laugh, his eyes staring at the expression on her face—how her nose would scrunch up a bit when she giggled.

“Damn right you will,” he repeated, suddenly lifting her leg up and placing it back onto his lap, “You can get some special VIP access to my locker room after. I’ll need you to give me some physical therapy.”

“Onyankopon. I will kill you.”

“You’ already got my heart, Mama. Last time I checked, I’m dead.” 

“Onyankopon?”

“Huh?” 

“Get out.”

                                            𝓐ᥫ᭡

THE EXCITEMENT OF THE NEXT DAY ROLLED INTO THE NIGHT. The sun was beginning to set, lighting a fire amongst the entire campus as it was their favorite time—the football game. Everyone was geared up in their school's attire, or spun the colors within their own style, prideful in representing their HBCU’s team. The bleachers were filled with bodies, a sense of young adult spirit filling the entire stadium. Scents of nachos, pizza and beignets filled Sweetpea’s nostrils, almost more distracting than the thrum in her chest from the band performing loudly, the majorette team equally matching with their performance.

The team all stood in the locker room, many of them pacing while the coach gave his final speech about how he expected them to play. A few guys huddled together in the far corner as they discussed and strategized their plays.

All, except one. 

Onyankopon sat on a wooden bench in the corner, his dark eyes staring down at the floor. While everyone else was still gearing up for the game, he was fully dressed in his jersey—his muscular silhouette visible underneath. He always needed this time to himself. To pray, to run the plays within his mind, to think.

The crowd cheered as the team began running out onto the field, Sweetpea standing as she cheered next to Peanut, clapping as cleats sunk into the synthetic grass. Her eyes went straight to the last player that entered, the crowd somehow becoming louder at the entrance of the quarterback. 

His blacked out protective gear made him look even bigger, shadows of his tattoos beneath the material of the long-sleeve he wore under his jersey, holding his helmet beneath the bright yellow gloves on his large palms. A chill ran over her body as his teammates hyped themselves up, his arm raising to flex the muscles within, tongue sticking out arrogantly to symbolize his power. She didn’t think he’d actually notice her in the crowd—but she was hard to miss. 

Her dark hair was sprawled around her face in soft waves, sheer yellow and black top clinging to her waist, showing the midriff of her belly piercing and stomach. Dark grey wash shorts that showed the harsh poke of her hips and ass that created a Coke bottle silhouette, thin silver heels strapped against her ankles. Her fox eyes were slender with fluffy lashes, brown freckles sprucing along her caramel face, lips outlined with brown liner. 

He rarely saw her out of her basketball attire, but when he did, he couldn’t stop looking. She gave him a sweet wave, unaware of how impure she truly looked.

He couldn’t help the smirk that pulled through his full lips, raising his arm to give her a wink before bringing his focus back to the coach, running a few extra laps to warm up. 

The XULA football team always played as if they were in  the NFL, Onyankopon leading them in ways no one else could. He ran across the field like nothing, a similarity between him and Sweetpea as they had control of the ball at a constant. Touchdown after touchdown, they were whooping the opposing team effortlessly.

Onyankopon ran down the field, achieving another touchdown before making his way over to the sideline, pulling off his helmet as he reached the water table. He grabbed a towel with one hand, dumping water over the other and running it through his tatted face as he looked up, scanning the crowd. 

His dark eyes immediately found hers again.

Her cousin was too wrapped up in the attention of her boyfriend to see how they stared at one another. Sweetpea had been around Onyankopon enough to allow her school girl crush to falter, but each time he gave her that look, it’s like all of her emotions appeared again.

 The minute she tried to give him another wave, she brought her hand down as she saw his attention on none other than Ashleigh, who was performing within her majorette team on the field. She swung her hips with the choreography, blowing him a kiss as she bent down with her baton. She was every man’s fantasy on campus—silky dark hair, dark grey eyes, chocolate brown skin, body perfect in her yellow one piece, sparkly black headband against her forehead as she danced.

Of course he would be looking at her. 

Ashleigh gave him an exaggerated wink as she twirled around the field. It seemed like she made it her priority to give him the most attention whenever she saw him. 

Onyankopon finally looked away and brought the towel to his face as a grin tugged at his lips again, his mind drifting. Typical.

“You’ good?” Peanut noticed her cousins’ face, slowing down on the attention of her nachos.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Sweetpea murmured, leaving her thoughts to herself, focusing back on the game itself. She was fine.

Their football team had successfully won in their home field, cheering wildly at their additional victory. With their win, they celebrated as they usually did—a party within a frat house off campus.

 It was closer to downtown New Orleans, only blocks away from Bourbon street. It was a city that never slept, a thrive somewhere other than New York could produce. Music blared throughout the mansion—songs like Back That Azz Up by Juvenile, to BOP by Big Boogie— bodies moved to the beat, talking and laughing amongst each other in a happy radiance.

Onyankopon was right in the middle of it all, his team crowded around as they celebrated with him, all the girls at the party practically glued to their hips, Ashleigh being attached to him.

Sweetpea entered the party, clasping the hand of her cousin when she immediately found the eyes of Onyankopon. He had one arm wrapped around the waist of Ashleigh—who was currently wearing his varsity jacket—her hand gently caressing his broad chest as she whispered in his ear. His other hand was around a beer, taking a long drink as his dark eyes scanned the crowd. She pressed her lips together, giving a weak smile as she waved again, before being pulled towards her own group of friends.

He caught sight of her, his eyes glued on her frame as she moved through the crowded mansion. It made him clutch his beer as her hips twisted with each movement, ass shaking beneath her shorts. 

“Onyankopon?” Ashleigh whined, pouting her big lips as they curved downwards.

“Huh?” 

“You want another beer?” she asks, pulling his mouth down to meet hers.

“Fasho,” he murmurs against her lips, “‘Preciate it, Love.” 

Ashleigh wrapped herself tighter against his side, looking up at him as she tried to grab his attention. She then stood up, giving him one more kiss as she was making her way towards the table of drinks, seeing as Sweetpea stood there, trying to mix vanilla Coke with Crown for a richer taste.

Sweetpea glances at the girl, seeing her wearing a short skirt and crop top, body perfectly snug in her outfit under the jacket. Her hair was in curls now, and she looked as pretty as she always did. Pretty enough to always have Onyankopon’s attention. 

Ashleigh wasn’t a mean girl—that’d be too typical. However, she was a girl that did…notice the relationship between this girl and her man. She just wanted to check Sweetpea’s temperature. 

“Hey, Sweetpea!”

She has to pull back the roll in her eyes, giving her a smile as she greets, “Wassup, Ashleigh?”

“Not much,” Ashleigh makes a point to run a hand over Onyankopon’s jacket, “Grabbing a beer for my man, just saw you and figured I’d say hey!” 

Sweetpea instantly notices the movement, clearing her throat as she exhales, “Y’all just got here?”

“Nope. Been here a good twenty minutes,” she responded, watching her closely as she continued to rub her hand against the material. 

“Onyankopon is still pretty fired up from the game,” she giggles, “He’s all high and mighty after a win, can’t keep his damn hands off me. But I’m sure you know that.”

Sweetpea gives a small laugh to kill the awkwardness she feels, bringing the drink to her lips in hopes that would help this conversation, “Yeah…he’s uh—something else.”

“But girl, let’s talk about you! I never saw you outside of that basketball jersey. You’re actually passing for a bad bitch tonight!”

She could feel the passive aggression in her tone. She didn’t have to question it. One thing about that nickname of hers, it definitely was a representation of how she presented herself—sweet, not much to say. Just like now. 

Her attention is pulled by Onyankopon wrapping an arm over Ashleigh’s shoulders, teasing voice as he questions, “You’ bullying her?”

“Of course not, Daddy. I’m just having a chit chat with my friend,” she responds, giving a flutter of her eyelashes, “But speaking of, I’m finna’ go check on my girls!” 

She raises her lips up to give him a peck on the chin, giving Sweetpea another wave as she dismisses, “See you, girl! Watch my man for me!”

Sweetpea gives her an equally fake wave, waiting until she’s away from them before she glances back to Onyankopon, “She’s lovely, isn’t she?”

He shakes his head as he watches Ashleigh’s curvy figure walk over to her own friends. She always knew how to get under someone’s skin. 

“Ain’t you finna’ ask me all my stats for the game?” he mutters, smirking down at her as he crosses his arms, leaning over the table beside them.

She tilts her head a bit, the flow of her hair wafting his nose of jasmine and vanilla as she sighs, “Hmm, no. But I bet you’re gonna tell me.”

Her scent makes him want to growl like an animal, but he assumes it’s the beer. It has to be. 

“Two-hundred and forty passing yards, three-hundred and fifteen total yards. Four touchdowns, zero turnovers.”

She leans along the table as well, giving him a small smile as she corrects, “Five touchdowns—they tried to foul you, and you almost smacked the referee.”

He smiles like a giddy child, “So you’ was’ watching me.”

“If I say you’re the only reason I come to the games, your ego might put you in cardiac arrest,” she rolls her eyes, “I watch you just as much as you be on my ass during my games. Just returning the favor.”

“Mhm. You look good as fuck tonight.”

She feels her face become a bit warm, taking another sip of her drink, beginning to feel the buzz as she smacks her lips, “Save all that for Ms. Big Booty in your varsity jacket.”

“You’ just as thick,” he responds in a low tone, “Be makin’ the ground shake at every game. You’ can barely fit them shorts.”

That gets her to actually giggle, punching his arm as she says, “Shut the fuck up, and quit staring at my ass. You’ got a whole lil’ girlfriend to be diligent with.”

He chuckles as she hits him, “Who says I be starin’ at your ass? I was starin’ at them thighs, mothafucka’s is colossal.” 

“Only thing colossal is that big ass head of yours. If we put you under a satellite, the wifi cranking up in here!” She snaps back, “Yeah, that was good, huh?” She chuckles at his full on laugh. It was deep, genuine. Maybe even sexy.

“Yo’ ass so stupid,” he shakes his head, “Got the nerve to call me the comedian?”

He pauses, his eyes raking over her frame again. He was always looking at her. But this time, he sees her. Her brown freckles, the scrunch she made when she glanced around the room, the way she glowed beneath the dark purple lighting of the party. 

“Damn, you really are fine as hell when you don’t have an attitude.”

She rolls her eyes, trying to push away the feeling of her heart fluttering, “There you go talking again.”

“And there you go rolling them’ eyes…” He responds, raising his hand and using his thumb and index finger to tap her chin, “It’s cute.”

She pushes his hand away, “You want another reason for Ashleigh to burn that expensive ass varsity jacket of yours?”

“That girl will find a way to get mad at me even if I look at my shadow,” he smacks his lips, “Maybe I should’ve had you wearing it. You’ the one remembering all my plays.”

His skin equally glows beneath the lights, chains and grills shining against his black shirt, clung to his muscular frame in a way that compliments him, the colorful ink on his body, all of him—she sees him as well. There it was—those emotions returning to her. 

Maybe it was time to admit them. 

She swallows, holding her cup between her fingers as she whispers, “Ony—“

“Aye, fine shit.” 

Her eyes pull back to one of Onyankopon’s friends, a light skinned dreadhead all too familiar on campus. His bright pink lips, full goatee, brown eyes seemingly mischievous.

“Oh, um—hey, Rashaud,” she greets with a weak smile, pushing down everything she wanted to say.

“Come dance with me,” he tells her.

“Me?” She blinks.

Rashaud stands next to Sweetpea, his eyes roaming over her figure for a brief moment before he glances at his friend. 

“Yeah, you. You’ the only fine ass honey not on the floor with me,” he responds, his eyes lingering on the smooth tone of her thighs as she shifts them. He looks her up and down again, “Or you gon’ let a bunch of other niggas’ grind all over you?” 

Onyankopon’s eyes narrowed at him, a small frown pulling at his brow as he watched the interaction. He was irked.

She’s not used to having someone flirt with her like this. She blinks, “Um—“

“Girl, come dance! My song is on!”

Peanut comes swooping in as well, pulling her towards the crowd as Bring It Back by Travis Porter has everyone swarming towards the dance floor. Sweetpea gives Onyankopon an apologetic look as she’s being pulled away by her cousin and his friend. 

Even with Sweetpea’s shy demeanor at times, she knew how to have a good time. Bodies flood around her as she dances with Rashuad, ass pressed up against his hips as she grinds to the beat, eyes low, body intoxicated as he has a grip on her hair, tugging her down to meet his rhythm.

Onyankopon’s eyes narrowed even more, cooling his blood that warms beneath his skin as he takes a sip of his beer. 

…Why did he feel some type of way?  

His eyes locked onto her hair grasped between Rashaud’s large fingers, her body grinding against him slowly, looking him straight in the eye. Something in his jaw tightened, and maybe his dick jumped. 

His attention is pulled away as he feels arms wrap around his waist, Ashleigh interrupting him as she questions, “You’ gon give me some attention or keep watching Sweetpea bounce her ass on Rashaud?”

“I’m focused on you, girl. You’ the one I came with.” 

It wasn’t a whole lie, he did come with her. But a sudden  possession came over him when he thought about Sweetpea— and it was nothing like a brother, or a friend.

He’s back to glancing down as he hears Ashleigh smack her lips, pulling her arms back as she says, “Yeah, whatever nigga. I’m finna’ fuck around and find somebody else to dance with.”

She doesn’t give him the opportunity to respond as she left him, Onyankopon now actually irritated. But instead of doing anything, he takes another sip of his beer, preparing to grab for another one.

Sweetpea spent the rest of her night accompanied by Rashaud, although he was becoming a bit suffocating. She enjoyed the dance she’d given him, but that’s all she really wanted. 

When people begin making their way out the door, his dreads hover over her face as he questions, “You’ finna’ come to my dorm?” 

She gives him a light laugh, “Nah, I got a game tomorrow. Need all the rest I can get.”

A frown pulled at his lips, “Aww, really? You gon’ be up by yo’ self when you could be gettin’ company from me? Damn, Mami. You’ heartless.”

She laughs softly, “I’m sure you can find someone else to accompany you. Didn’t Onyankopon ride with you anyways?”

“He did. But I don’t know where that’ nigga at. If you see him, tell him I’m leaving. Otherwise a bitch finna’ be in the passenger,” he dismisses, Sweetpea chuckling, “Noted,” as he walks off.

She pushes her way through the bodies as she finds Ashleigh before Peanut, not wanting to speak to her, but her parental mode is beginning to switch on—where the hell was he? 

“Yo’, you’ seen Onyankopon?”

Ashleigh glances at Sweetpea, the irritation clearly present on her face as she answers, “I don’t know. He’ got me tight as hell, left me to talk to some other niggas and never answered my calls or texts when I was looking for him. I assumed he was with you,” she gives her an up and down, still glaring.

“Rashaud says he’s not getting a ride back to his car if he doesn’t leave now,” Sweetpea ignores Ashleigh’s attitude, “Are you taking him home?”

“Tuh! He got legs, he can make it,” she answers, rolling her eyes, “He chose to leave my ass, that’ nigga can find his way home. Matter of fact, you can take him, imma’ ask Rashaud to take me home.”

And with that, she’s already making her way to the exit, lightly bumping Sweetpea on the way out. She raises her eyebrows at the encounter, feeling her cousin come beside her as she mutters, “Ain’t she lovely?”

“Mhm,” Sweetpea murmurs, Peanut adding, “You gon’ be good to get Onyankopon home?” 

“If I find him.” 

“His ass’ too big to be lost,” Peanut says, shaking her head as she wasn’t surprised.

She spots several of his friends during her search, but no sign of him at all. She does one more search inside the fraternity as she goes upstairs, about to leave when she halts. 

She spots him leaned against one of the game rooms couches, snoring like a bear. She has to hold back her laugh—he was like an infant, sleeping anywhere he could. 

She sighs, leaning down as she smacks his forehead, “C’mon, boy. I’d like to go home.”

He groans loudly, his eyebrows furrowing as she interrupts his sleep. She’s pretty, even if his vision is blurry. 

“Damn, why you smackin’ me?”

“Cause you’ve somehow managed to piss off all the people who would’ve taken you back to your car tonight, and now I have to be a chauffeur for your drunk ass. Get up,” she tugs at his shirt, the action no effort to his weight.

“Ain’t nobody drunk, girl. I’m just sleepy.”

Another trait of his sleepiness—the grumpiness that also consumed it. She knows him.

 She exhales a bit as she then asks, “Want tacos?” 

He perks up, one eye opening fully as the word leaves her lips, “You buyin’?”

“Yes—“

He shoots up, leaning on her smaller frame to balance himself, almost toppling the both of them over that it causes Sweetpea to squeak. 

She places his arm over her shoulders as she helps him walk, “You’re a mess.”

“You’re tiny,” he responds, letting her bear the majority of his weight against her smaller frame, “I ain’t even that heavy—how they’ let your lil’ ass play ball?” 

It takes her ten minutes to make it to the taco stand, there to sober up drunk college students like the man sitting in her passenger seat. She could tell his headache was coming on as he covered his face with his hand, Sweetpea giving a kind smile to the worker as she took to-go boxes within her palms, climbing back into the car and placing the styrofoam on his lap.

“I got your birria tacos. And there’s someTylenol packets I grabbed from the corner store. Take those first,” she orders, reaching in her backseat for a bottle of water.

Once he managed to gain control of his headache, he opened his tacos up, the heavenly aroma of birria filling the car as he began eating them immediately. He’s already halfway finished while she hadn’t even pulled away from the stand. 

He was a greedy drunk.

She drives down the road back towards her dorm, holding back her giggle as she tells him, “Please don’t suffocate because you’re not swallowing your food.”

“If I die, know that these are good ass tacos.”

He’d practically eaten two, reaching in the container for another one before glancing at her, “How come you ain’t eat none?”

“I’ll eat later. I just didn’t want you to be hungover,” she glances at him, “Your lil’ Ashleigh didn’t seem to care where you ended up tonight. How’d you manage to piss her off again?”

“She got mad when me and Rashaud went to smoke. ‘Thought I was out there with some bitch, had a tantrum and started blowing my shit up, so I had to put my phone on DND.”

He stuffed another bite in his mouth before continuing to talk again.

“Girl gets on all my nerves.”

“You like her,” Sweetpea shrugs, “But next time, at least be nice to her before you gotta leave a party? You’ got my gas tank low because I have to go move your car to make sure you don’t get towed.”

“Aye— she was the one who got upset, not me. I wasn’t rude— just ignored that ass,” his head was still pounding, a reminder that he was still pretty wasted, “I can move my own car and fill up your tank. My bad, shawty.”

“You think I’m letting you drive? You’ve been drinking,” she shakes her head, “It’s fine.”

“Don’t act like you ain’t been drinkin’ too. I saw you, bouncing your ass all over Rashaud.”

She could hear the sharpness in his words, raising an eyebrow as she turned the corner, “It was just a dance.”

When he doesn’t respond and glances down at his phone, the both of them go quiet. Onyankopon’s tipsy ears began  hearing a familiar instrumental on the radio—Can We Talk by Tevin Campbell—turning up the song as he howled, “Oooh, that’s that shit!”

Sweetpea rolls her eyes, giggling softly as she watches him drunkenly sing along, swinging his arms, clutching her legs to the music.

 She smacks him away as she continues, “Anyways, Rashaud just wants somebody to hump on. I want a nigga who’s gonna sing outside my window. Some stupid, cheesy, romantic shit. Not some hookup after a party. However, some head would be nice at the moment,” she shrugs.

He eyes her for a moment, eyes darkening at her words, “You want a simp ass nigga,” he confirms, the word leaving his lips with a slight hint of disdain, “Who gon’ do all that corny, lame bullshit.”

To think that she wanted to confess her feelings to him earlier that night, his tone now irritates her. She parks in front of his shiny black Charger, turning towards him as she narrows her eyes, “Call it what you want. If I dealt with the bullshit you play with Ashleigh, I’d turn your ass every way fuckin’ loose on this campus. I’d never let a nigga play with me. You’ wanna keep fishin’ for pussy, that’s cool. You’ll feel empty later.”

She raises her hand, “Give me your keys.”

He’s silent for a moment, his brain slowly processing her words before he finally realizes what she’s actually upset about. But he couldn’t respond—didn’t really know how to. So instead, his hand reached in his pocket to fish out his keys, placing them in her palm in silence.

She hates that it’s now awkward, but she was annoyed with him. She didn’t need him to like her back. But with a mentality like that, it was telling her everything she needed to know before she got the chance to express herself. 

She parked his car in her lot, pulling her Coach purse over her shoulder as they began making their way into her dorm. She was quiet, pushing open the door as she knew Peanut wasn’t home. 

He feels guilty. He could try cracking a joke—but he knew her better than that. 

She tosses her keys as she makes her way to the sofa, now feeling the ache of her feet in these heels as she bends down to begin untying them. Her light groan fills the room as he soles throb by the second.

When he hears her groan of pain from her sore feet, he can’t help himself. He’s taking a seat on the other side of the sofa, reaching for her foot that she was struggling with. 

“C’mere.”

“I’m fine,” she murmurs, beginning to untie them faster, the ribbon becoming more tangled as she does this in frustration.

“Don’t start being stubborn now, shawty,” his large hand grabbing her ankle and tugging her towards him, “I said c’mere. Just lemme help you.”

She rolls her eyes, stopping the fight she wants to give as she allows him to help her. She leans herself on the elbow dug into the sofa’s material, blowing her hair out of her face as a habit. She was the one for silent treatment, but she didn’t have time for that at this moment. 

“You’ really meant what you said in the car?”

“What I said about you wantin’ a simp ass nigga?” 

He starts massaging the arch of her foot, working his thumb into the  tight muscle. The feeling makes her foot twitch, the alcohol in her system making this massage a little too good. She nods her head, adjusting herself as she feels her body throb in lower places.

“You deserve better than a nigga who’s gonna people-please his way into some pussy.” 

“I’m not asking for a doormat, Ony. I was just saying I don’t want that bullshit you play on all these girls. Arguing, miscommunication, confusion. It’s too much,” she admits with a shrug, “I don’t know how you do it.”

“I do it cause it’s fun,” he admits, watching his fingers work on massaging her foot, “Ain’t none of my relationships serious. You on the other hand…ain’t never been in a relationship. How you’ know you want all that?”

“How do you know what you’ve never experienced?” She turns the question on him, “Have you ever been in love with someone to know that something serious feels just as good as what you call fun?”

Now that was a question. 

“I have been in love with someone, yeah.”

She doesn’t expect that answer. She sighs a bit, leaning herself more on her hand as she says, “I think that being soft isn’t the worst thing in the world. I know I can be…a lil’ rough around the edges. Someone to remind me that it’s okay to be all girly, lovey, corny, wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.” 

Her eyes fall to her lap, playing with her fingers at her admission.

“Don’t say that, man. Ain’t no nigga out here would see you as the rough type,” he shakes his head, “You’re the sweetest person I know. You just got’ no filter and you don’t take bullshit. That’s different.”

A soft laugh pulls from her at that, eyes closing as she hums from his hands loosening the tense muscles on her feet. She sighs, “You’re saying that to be nice. You’re a sweetie when you massage my feet.”

“I’m serious. You ain’t rough at all—just my pretty ass girl who plays ball.”

Her eyes come open a bit as she repeats, “My?”

He realizes his mistake, freezing in place before he quickly clarifies, “You know what I meant.”

Another air of silence between them. It’s like a tension is building, and she’s not sure where it’s coming from. They’d been alone many times before, but this was different. 

She pulls her leg back a bit as she groans, “Fuckin’ feet still hurt. Maybe I need a shower.”

She goes to stand, when she’s suddenly captured by large arms, cuffed under her ass as she’s lifted within the air. She shrieks, “Onyankopon!”, stifling out a shocked giggle as he travels into her bedroom, flopping them down onto the bed. 

“The only thing you need to be doing right now is laying down and lettin’ me take care of yo’ ass for once,” he responds, landing right on top of her, pinning her underneath his body in the process. 

She tilts her head a bit, the intoxication of the night's previous drink suddenly catching up to her. She’s floaty as she giggles, “You’re drunk, you can’t take care of me.”

“You think I can’t?” he smacks his lips, “Better than any simp ass nigga ever could.”

“So you wanna take place of my metaphorical nigga?” She blinks, giggling even more. 

“No, I’m gon’ be your very literal nigga.”

Fuck, here it was again. That tension she questioned earlier. Their eyes are pouring into another’s, and she can’t help herself at this point. 

Sweetpea does it before she thinks—she leans her head up as she gently presses her lips to his, kissing him.

Oh.

He’s caught off guard by this, his brain frozen from processing the small kiss—But the sweetness of her lips are intoxicating. Within seconds, his brain starts to function again and he’s kissing her back, lips moving with hers in a slow, passionate rhythm.

It was nothing like she’d expected. When she feels his tongue in her mouth, heavy, is when she realizes she kissed him. 

She pulls back, one hand against the side of his neck as she presses her other fingers to her mouth, warmth against her face as she says softly, “…I’m sorry.”

He’s still hovering over her, his head spinning from the intense kiss. When she pulled away, it was almost like a bucket of ice water was thrown on him, mind racing over what had just happened. 

“You don’t gotta—I ain’t mad you did that, Mama,” he responds, trying his best to keep his voice even, “You don’t gotta apologize.”

“I didn’t—“ she pulls herself up a bit, “I’m sorry. I just thought—fuck, I’m stupid. I’m sorry,” she can’t stop apologizing.

“Cut that out,” he grunts, moving one of his arms to take hold of her chin, making her look at him, “Talk to me. Why are you apologizing?”

“Kissing means a lot more to me than what it means to you, Onyankopon,” she narrows her eyes, “I need to go shower, and you’re still drunk.”

Those words sting. A lot. 

“You think that meant nothin’ to me?” The grip on her chin becoming tighter, “Like I’m some nigga for shits and giggles?”

She’s full on glaring at him now,  “That’s what you make yourself to be. I’m not tryna’ get in your crossfire.”

“You know that’s bullshit. I’m not that nigga I make myself out to be—Not with you.”

“That’s supposed to make me feel better? That everything’s suddenly so different with me? If you felt like that, why are you only saying it cause I kissed you?” 

She runs her fingers through her hair, sighing with a humorless laugh, “This is stupid.” 

“Why’d you do it, then? Huh? Why’d you kiss me if you didn’t want shit to change?”

“We’ve both been drinking.”

He smacks his lips, “I ain’t even drunk no more—be for real with me. I wouldn’t be mad if you felt something for me. If you want me.” 

“It doesn’t matter whether I want you—You don’t have to want me because that’s what I’m looking for.” 

She’s being deceptive, but it’s better than getting herself hurt.

“You think I don’t want you? You think that I don’t have feelings for you?”

She’s feeling her throat becoming tight, looking him up and down as her voice becomes soft, “…I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” He’s leaning down so he’s eye level with her, “Damn near twenty years of knowin’ each other and you don’t know?”

She moves her face back a bit, arms crossed over her chest as she feels that pounding return in her ears. She knew there was a possibility of feelings being reciprocated, but to hear it out loud, it’s as if she’d gone deaf. 

Her breath comes out uneven as his mouth is closer to hers, pressing her hand against his chest as she repeats, “I don’t.” 

“Don’t fuckin’ play with me,” his jaw clenches at her response, leaning even closer as his breath hits her face.

She clutches the material of his shirt as she shudders, “Move, Onyankopon.”

He leans closer, close enough for his lips to almost touch hers. His voice is deep—she can’t think at this point.

 He grunts, “Let me have you. You’ being hardheaded.”

It’s as if she’d run a marathon. She clutches his shirt tighter, unsure if she wanted to pull him just a centimeter closer, or fully push him away. Her breathing is unsteady as her eyes falter shut. 

She nods her head as she begs, “…Kiss me, please.”

He doesn’t waste another second, bringing his hand to cup around the back of her neck as he roughly crushes his lips into hers.

His mouth feels heavy again, Sweetpea breathless against his lips as he tongues her down, eyes rolling back from something as simple as a kiss—She’s spinning. The strength of his lips travel as they drop down to her throat, her fingers sliding down his back with every movement, grazing her nails into the skin as she softly gasps, “…O—Ony…”

He’s leaving hickeys along her neck, biting and sucking the skin as he moves between each spot. Her nails in his flesh makes him groan. 

“You gotta stop digging in my shit like that,” he mutters in between each hickey, licking and soothing the mark he made before sucking another one, “Makes me wanna do sum’ you’ not ready for.”

“I’m—sorry,” she whispers, bringing her fingers to the nape of his neck, pressing him closer to her throat as she embarrassingly pleads, “I…like when you kiss me here…”

He groans again, latching his lips back onto her neck as he sucks on the sensitive skin, leaving hickey after hickey. 

“Yeah? Like that?” He can’t help but lowly chuckle, turning it into a grunt, “Where else you’ like me kissin’ you?”

She could feel a throb beginning to form between her legs. Her back shudders into an arch, Onyankopon’s lips catching her nipples nudging through the thin material of her top, roughly kissing at them as his mouth goes down lower, lower…

Her fingers are against his arm as her head comes up, her heart beating within her chest as her cheeks flush, “I—I don’t k—know,” jerking away from him each time he moves.

“You tellin’ me you don’t know where else you want me kissin’ you?” He’s now looking up at her under the shadows of his lashes, tongue running along his lips as if he were preparing for a meal.

His fingers are like Velcro against her skin, sliding beneath her top, clinging against her chest as his lips suck up pieces of her stomach, spreading her legs in between his body. Her ankles slide along his backside, legs dropping against his shoulders as he puts them there—she feels like her heart might start beating outside of her chest. 

She grips along his arm as she moves with him, trembling under his touch as she exhales, “I—Ony….” She can’t speak.

“You sound good as fuck sayin’ my name like that,” he huffs as he moves lower, “Like you ain’t never said it before…keep that shit up.”

She catches herself over thinking, knowing that she wasn’t nearly as experienced as him—she really didn’t know what she wanted. She hated how shy she felt, but this moment didn’t feel like it existed in her mind, it was like a hazy dream. Blame it on the alcohol. 

With that intoxicated courage, she presses her legs together as she raises her hips, beginning to peel her shorts off her body. Her embarrassment floods the river within her mind as she sees his jaw clench. Pulling him up into a distracting kiss, she closes her eyes to rid the self-consciousness. 

The kiss he returns feels impatient. He’s sucking against her tongue, losing to the temptation he’s holding back to devour her— he just can’t help himself. 

When her legs spread back open, the caramel skin disappears beneath the bubblegum pink of her pussy, glistening from her arousal. It makes him practically famished.

 He pulls himself back, “You’ pretty as fuck, don’t do all that…” placing her legs back over his shoulders, locking his eyes down with an almost awed expression. 

“Damn…”

He’s kissing her thighs, voice low into the crook of her inner skin as he compliments, “Pussy pretty as fuck, I gotta give her a kiss.” 

He lowers his mouth down to come in contact with how wet she already is, nudging his lips in between the folds. He welcomes the nub into his mouth as he gives it a french kiss, tongue tossing her clit that throbs as he makes contact with it. She whimpers, raising her hand onto his head, sliding against the softness of his braids, wanting to jump out of her skin at this very moment. Why did it already feel so good?

That whimper— It’s the most vulnerable he’s heard her. He grunts, “Ain’t never tasted some pussy like this,” swirling his tongue lower to have it sink in between her folds, the mixture of arousal and saliva beginning to collect in his beard. His jaw is dropping up and down in repetitions, opening his mouth wider to catch every single part of her—she’s like candy, a reward after a game, a prize no one else could receive. Her taste explodes across his senses, making him growl low in his throat.

Her lips part, an almost shocked look on her face as she gasps, chest arching up as she brings her eyes down to watch. It’s almost like a torturous tickle, another shuddering whimper plummeting from her mouth as she frowns, “Agh—Ony…” his tongue dragging every which way on her pussy, hovering over her opening to have another make out session with her clit.

This is his alcohol, his drug of choice. He's giving her slow licks, his hot breath causing her muscles to flutter in a way that has him moan, “Ooh shit, pussy gettin’ tight from my mouth…”

He’s smearing her wetness across her folds and inner thighs, hands gripping her ass firmly, kneading the plump cheeks as he gives the skin a spank, Sweetpea full on moaning in response. Onyankopon looks up at her with lust-filled eyes, "Yeah, I wanna hear that. Keep that the fuck up.”

Her head falls back against the bed as she releases tiny moans, hearing her own voice in her ears making her cheeks hot. He’s relentless, slurping her up so that it creates a loud sound within the room, head swiveling side to side, up and down, in circles, her arousal floods the sheets beneath her body. When his tongue drags down to meet her opening with a filthy kiss, it sinks in all at the same time, making her whine out, “Fuck,” trembling as she gasps, pressing her knees to her chest to hold her shaking legs.

Grunting in satisfaction at her reaction, Onyankopon takes it further, licking her entrance before pushing his tongue back inside, curling it up to stroke her inner walls. He pulls back, letting out a deep rumble, "Damn, you taste so fuckin’ good,” his own eyes nearly rolling back, “Fuck…” 

Slurp, slurp, the sounds fill the air in a nasty way, his nose pressed against her swollen lips. He's licking her up and down, from her clit to her entrance, going as deep as possible without pushing back inside, savoring her flavor. She’s clawing at his skin, shaking like a leaf in a way she didn’t expect herself to. He’d never been so fixated on a girl, so enthralled—he couldn't stop himself. 

Onyankopon leans up to capture her lips in a rough kiss, swallowing her cries under his tongue as he thrusts in and out, mimicking the act they both crave.

Her fingers go to touch him, palms trembling so much that she can barely get a grip along his skin, kissing him back in such a consuming muddle.

He chuckles darkly, "Look at you, all fucked up,” lips latching back down to her clit, his free hand reaching up to tangle in her hair, tugging her head back to add more pleasure, yanking her down to meet the aching wait of his mouth.

Pleasure wasn’t even the word at this point. She feels faint, spots within her vision as his other fingers press between her plump lips, pulling her by the bite of her teeth to watch him. 

She muffles in between her whimpers, “O—Ony—” she feels panicked, as if she doesn’t know how this could feel so good, pressing her hand to his arm to slow him down, “S—Stop, I’m gonna p—pee…”

A deep chuckle rumbles through his chest, vibrating against her flesh, “You ain’t finna’ pee, Mama,” he murmurs against her, tongue still flicking rapidly over her clit. He adds more pressure, watching her deep inhales, her exhale dragging out into a small sob, tears brimming her eyes as she finds his hair again.

Her ankles are in the air, the slurp of her pussy, his voice, it’s all too much for her. The tears in her eyes are in between harsh waves of pleasure and embarrassment, unable to stop the pressure of release as she unknowingly squirts in his mouth, her moans broken, whining, squealing as she gushes out. She trembles, “O—Oh my god…” the gasps pulling from her mouth are almost dangerous.

“Why you’ squirting like that,” he groans, never pulling away as he delves his mouth deeper, drinking in her essence as her orgasm hits, taste intensifying with each spasm of her pussy.

She whines, “Ony—stoppp,” crying like a baby, a mess at this point. She hiccups in between, trying to latch her legs closed, whimpering at the painful spank she gets in return, his growl almost evil. He just can’t stop.

“Got a nigga thirsty as fuck.” 

His tongue is interminable, lapping across her sensitive flesh, coaxing forth new surges of ecstasy. He enjoys the way her whole body vibrates beneath him. His face is drenched, beard shampooed as she’s coating him like a splash of water from the sink—she can’t stop cumming.

He’s in between her legs, pleasuring her in a way she’d never been catered to before. Her legs are shaking, her voice is hoarse as she cries for him, the most vulnerable she’d ever been. She practically begs him to stop, teary eyed and body vibrating from the countless releases as he pulls himself up to her, forehead pressing against her own, her heavy breathing gusting along his face like wind. Her tear stained cheeks are warm, eyes closed as she can’t bring herself to look at him.

He kisses her cheeks, gently brushing away the tears. He’s hovering over her, one hand planted by the side of her head, resting his weight on it as the other strokes the side of her face. 

“Open your eyes,” he instructs softly, “Lemme see you.”

After a moment, her wet lashes flutter open. She returns her hand to the back of his neck, noticing the look of amusement on his face. She closes her eyes again, hiding her face somehow as she whimpers, “Don’t laugh.”

There’s a look of almost tenderness on his face as he softly chuckles, taking her wrist to pull it away from her face. 

“I ain’t laughin’,” his voice is low, “I just like seein’ you like this…you look cute this way.”

She rolls her eyes, releasing her own small laugh. Her forehead is still pressed against his as she searches his face, seeing the vulnerability he carries in this moment. 

Her voice is small as she calls, “…Ony?”

“Yeah, Mama?” He’s got his fingers playing with the strands of her hair, eyes staring straight into hers, “What you need?”

“You don’t have to say you like me back if you really don’t…” her voice is soft, “I just—don’t want anything to feel forced…”

It’s almost painful how hesitant she looks in this moment, and he can’t help but narrow his eyes as if insulted. 

“You still deaf as fuck in one ear, huh?” His mouth is back to hovering over her face, lips inches from hers,  “I want you.”

She hears his voice—she listens. Nodding her head, she pulls him back into a gentle kiss, lowering her hand as she tugs at the belt on his jeans. Her mouth pulls back as she feels his fingers intertwine in her palms, pressing her hand back onto the bed.

“Hold up,” he murmurs as he pulls back, “I don’t want it like this—a nigga was just hungry and wanted to make you feel good. Couldn’t help but eat that pretty ass pussy. C’mon,” he gently smacks her ass, “You’ got a game tomorrow.”

She flinches a bit at his words, “Your mouth is bad,” ignoring the flush that returns in her face. She frowns a bit at his rejection, but she can also appreciate the wait. 

She hides the frown as she asks, “…Are you staying here?” 

“You need to ask if I’m stayin’ here? Where else am I gon’ go? A nigga ain’t finna’ leave after what we just did.”

Her vulnerability is still there. She glances around his face before she shakes her head, “Sorry.” 

She pulls him into another soft kiss, “You wanna come shower with me?”

“You gotta stop apologizin’ to me, Sweetpea. Shit is irritating.”

She scrunches her face up, “Okay, nigga. I’m just making sure. Actually, you ain’t gotta shower with me!” 

She stands from the bed with her arms crossed, unable to hide her giggle as he yanks her back towards him. 

“Stop playing,” he gruffly mutters, arms wrapping around her smaller frame, nudging a kiss on her throat, “C’mon. I’ll braid yo’ hair up for the game tomorrow.”

She had to surpass the embarrassment of bathing with him, already beneath the shower head as he removed his clothes. Her eyes trail down to his sculpted frame, the ink on his pelvic, glancing at the monster that slaps along his belly button, hanging between his legs. 

But even in this steamy environment—It’s sweet, a different Onyankopon that she’d never seen. He stands behind her as he sensually washes her body, trailing kisses against her skin, washing her hair in a way that feels loving. From sitting on the floor with him as he braids her hair back for her game the next day, to her face against his chest as he snored above her. She was in love with this man. 

When the next morning comes, her eyes open to find that she was by herself in the bed. She doesn’t know why she becomes a bit worried. But as her eyes find his chain against her dresser, a sticky note beside it reads—

‘COACH CALLED FOR A MEETING. LEFT MY CHAIN SO I HAD A REASON TO COME BACK.’ 

A small smile comes to her lips at that. Her attention is pulled as she hears her door open, her cousin Peanut leaning into the frame with a raised eyebrow. 

Sweetpea scratches her head as she gives an awkward smile, “Uh…hey.” 

“Hey. He’s gone I see,” Peanut crosses her arms over her chest, “You two finally did it, huh?”

“No, no. We didn’t. Um—“

She hesitates a bit, “We just…slept off the alcohol,” she shrugs.

“Right. So, is that why he left his chain on your dresser?”

She glances at the dresser before looking back to her cousin, “Girl, shut up. You’ wanna go hoop for a little?”

Peanut snickers, moving out of the door frame, “You know I do. Come on, it’ll be a fun way to blow off your hangover.”

Onyankopon was grown, but why was she so worried when the entire day almost went by, and she hadn’t heard from him? 

Her and Peanut practiced for a while, got food, even stopped at another teammate's dorm. Nothing. She’d called him twice with no answer, and hadn’t seen him on campus. She walks back towards her dorm with Peanut, sighing as she glances back down to her phone. 

“This nigga better come get his chain before I throw it out,” she mutters in irritation. 

Peanut chuckles, walking beside her as she says, “Clinging onto him already? It’s cute. Y’all my couple goals or whatever!” 

Sweetpea rolls her eyes, “What if everything last night was just in the moment, Peanut? He was just fuckin’ with Ashleigh not too long ago.”

“Ain’t no nigga leaving his chain at your place if he doesn’t like you. Y’all have known each other for years, Pea. He likes you.”

“Yeah, he likes a lot of bitches. Including Ms. Big Booty Hoe,” she reminds.

Peanut shoves her cousin in the shoulder 

as they reach the dorm, pushing her key into the knob as she says, “You really gon’ let your doubt ruin a good thing? Pussy.” 

Sweetpea raises an eyebrow, “Pussy? Rude—”

When she opens the door to their dorm, they both halt. It’s a nightmare if Sweetpea had a word for it. Their eyes come into focus on Onyankopon on the couch, Ashleigh along his lap, his varsity jacket on her shoulders as her lipstick smears against his cheek. The both of them have a look on their face as if they didn’t expect to be caught— but there’s not enough time to process anyone’s expression. 

Onyankopon was already standing to explain himself, while Sweetpea is lunging forward, her body being caught by her cousin who wraps an arm around her chest to stop her. She practically sees red.

His jaw tenses as he sees her ready to swing, “You’ finna hit me?”

She jerks in her cousins hold, “I’ll hit you and your hoe,  nigga! I never gave a fuck— Are you serious?” 

“Who are you calling a hoe?” Ashleigh frowns, stepping forward herself, Onyankopon pulling her back.

“Bitch, you!” 

It took a lot to get Sweetpea out of character. She’s not even listening to what he has to say, ready to throw hands with the girl on the couch, and him.  

“Chill the fuck out, Pea,” he warns,  “It’s not even like that.”

“Not like that? It looks like you was finna’ fuck a bitch in my dorm!” She exclaims, “How the fuck else does it look? I should really smack the shit out of you!”

"I said it ain’t even like that, Pea!” he defends, “I called her to get my jacket. That’s all.”

“So why the bitch on your lap?” She frowns, “You think I’m stupid as fuck? Fuckin’ lipstick on your face and shit,” she mushes his face with her palm, unfazed by his glare, “You got the bitch in my dorm—my dorm!”

She hates that there’s angry tears in her eyes, being held even tighter by her cousin, not even focused on the fact that Ashleigh still stands within the room.

"I swear to fuckin’ god bro—It ain’t what it looks like, but you also not finna’ hit me, Pea,” he warns with a step forward, “You need to calm your ass down and let me explain!”

“Nigga—fuck you!” She mushes his face again, “And this bitch! Y’all fuckin’ deserve each other! I hope you know that she was fuckin’ yo’ friend Rashaud last night after that party while you letting the bitch on your lap!” 

Her words are sharp, angry, but overall hurt. She’d never planned to admit her feelings to Onyankopon in fear that they’d get thrown back in her face—here it was. 

A look comes along his face, as if he was genuinely surprised to hear this information. He has no time to even process that, before he hears Ashleigh go off, “That ain’t your business to be telling, bitch!”

When Sweetpea goes to swing at this girl, Peanut is the one to dismiss the chaos within the room, fully pulling her cousin back to stop this from becoming worse. 

“Y’all need to chill the fuck out before the RA hears this bullshit. Onyankopon, you should’ve never brought Ashleigh to our dorm, no matter what the fuck was going on. And you need to get the fuck out. I don’t have any issue with jumping you in this hoe,” Peanut threatens Ashleigh.

Ashleigh sneers, “Fuck all of y’all,” throwing the jacket on the sofa—but she doesn’t leave before giving Sweetpea the finger, moving quick as the girl continues to struggle under her cousins hold.

When Sweetpea brings her eyes back to Onyankopon, there’s less anger in her face. She pushes out of Peanut’s hold as she shuts her emotions down in that exact moment.

“I have a game later—I don’t have time for this shit.” 

To see her go from that vulnerability he always chased, showing him a completely different side of her—to this. It was like nothing had changed between them. 

“Pea—“

She slams her door, leaving the both of them outside. That was the end of it. At least for now. 

                                        𝓐ᥫ᭡

TWO MINUTES LEFT IN THE GAME. The court was where she belonged, but her mind was elsewhere. Her eyes tried their best to pull away from him as he was in the bleachers, watching her every move like he always did. That would never change. But she wasn’t in her element tonight. She’d been missing plays, dropping the ball, foul after foul. 

It got to the point where seconds were in the last quarter, and as she took the opportunity to throw the ball into the hoop, she watched as it completely missed, her eyes trailing over to the audience that watched with expressionless faces. 

The game ends, her teammates looking at her, Peanut’s expression filled with worry—it was all wrong. As the other team jumped around and cheered for their win, Sweetpea walked over to the bench as she sat herself down, dropping her face into her jersey as she cried. Frustrated with herself, frustrated with this entire day.

Onyankopon watches her shoulders shake beneath her jersey. He wants nothing more than to comfort her, but he knows that will only drive the knife deeper. So he sits there, watching in silence as her teammates pat her on the back, offering their support as their coach talks to them, scolding Sweetpea for her performance. 

He had to fix this.

A couple of days had gone by. Sweetpea had trapped herself within her dorm for the weekend, just wanting to get her mind together for the next week. She wanted her mind to be blank— but all she could think about was how having a childhood crush got her into this entire situation. She sits against her bed with one of her textbooks open, body swallowed under her oversized graphic tee and hair sprawled around her face, just freshly showered from bed rotting. 

Her eyes glance up to her door peeking open as Peanut appears, “You’ gonna be good before I head out?”

“I’m good, Peanut,” she brushes off, “Where you’ going?”

“Just to a party,” she replies from the doorway, “You sure you don’t want to come? Might cheer you up, you know? Get your mind off everything.” 

Peanut's brown eyes move from her cousin towards the floor as she sighs, “…I’m worried about you, Pea.“

“I’m good,” she repeats, “I just…wanna take some time to myself. I got exams to study for—go have fun for me, okay? Send me pictures,” she gives a weak smile, dropping the pen in between her fingers.

She can tell that Sweetpea was lying, but she wasn’t going to force her to go.

“Okay,” she says softly, taking a few steps back, “Call me if you need anything.”

She gives her a wave as she shuts the door. She wasn’t necessarily lying, she did want time to herself— But that didn’t mean the solitude wasn’t lonely. 

Her TV was extremely low within its volume setting as she studied. But as she continued to highlight important sections, her attention was caught by the sound of music coming from outside. It’s a familiar song, loud enough that it’s coming from someone’s car, disturbing her studying. If it was bothering her, it definitely bothered others within the complex. 

She takes a breath as she pushes herself off the bed, fuzzy socks along the ground as she pulls the blinds of the window to peek outside. And when she does—she’s in for something. 

Her eyes watch as Onyankopon is standing on the grass across from her window below, Can We Talk by Tevin Campbell playing loudly with all the windows down on his car, his arms out as he serenades her. Her mouth drops open.

He’s never felt like more of a dumbass than in this moment. Yelling out a love song in the middle of the afternoon just to get a girl to talk to him again. He didn’t care that people were recording him, beginning to open their windows in shock—all he had on his mind was the window to Sweetpea’s dorm.  He just hoped it didn’t take her long to open it.

She panics as she pulls her blinds up, opening the actual window as she leans out, “Onyankopon, what the hell are you doing?!”

“The hell it look like?!” he calls out to her, “You’ been avoiding me! You said you wanted a nigga to serenade you!”

“Onyankopon,” her mouth drops open a bit, “You cannot be serious right now!”

“I’m dead serious!” he snaps back, “You won’t talk to me, won’t answer my texts, and don’t answer when I call!” He points his finger up at the dorm, “Get your ass down here before I start doing choreography like New Edition!”

He’s back to singing, people yelling out from their windows, irritated with the interruption he causes. Her mouth drops even lower at this, and to avoid her RA blaming her for this entire mess, she slips on her house shoes as she darts downstairs, opening the double doors of her dorm to see him now standing across from her.

“Can you stop?!” She throws her arm out, wanting him to cut the music playing out of his car, “If I get reported I’m turning your ass loose on this grass!”

“Now see? That’s all you had to do.” 

His arms lower as he moves around the front of the car, cutting the music off, “You was’ up there studying?”

She crosses her arms over her chest, “Make your point quick as fuck, Onyankopon. Otherwise I’m going back upstairs.”

“Aight, look—You’ been blowing me off because of a dumb ass fight—That ain’t right, Sweetpea. You can’t just ignore a nigga you care about.” 

“Good thing I don’t care, hm?” She raises an eyebrow, attempting to close the door, eyes narrowing as he locks his fingers against the handle.

"Bullshit. I know you better than that, Pea. You’ the type of girl to care.”

“And you the type of nigga to sweeten your way through anything,” she fires back, “Look, man. I gotta finish studying. Are you done?”

“Why you gotta shut me out, Pea? Why ‘you mad at me for caring about you? I know it was my fault, but you didn’t even let me talk to you about it.” 

He’s still gripping onto the door, not letting her close it on him. 

“Why you’ gotta make things difficult for me? Can’t I love your ass without you avoiding me on some bullshit?”

The word love echoes through her mind. She blinks as she’s thrown off a bit, searching his face through the black sweatshirt and Nike sweatpants he wears, his muscular frame silhouettes beneath it. 

Her eyes pull up as she hears a random person from their window, “Talk to that nigga so y’all can stop disturbing the entire complex, niggas is sleep and studying!” 

She brings her eyes back to him, contemplating for a moment. She sighs as she rolls her eyes, opening the door into the hallway of the dorms as she says, “Just hurry up and come in.”

He’s a bit relieved that she finally lets him in, shutting the door gently behind himself as soon as he steps into the girls’ dormitory. It’s weird to feel so awkward with her—he’s never felt so off with someone since he was in grade school.

She closes the door to her bedroom, turning towards him as she states, “You’ got five minutes, Onyankopon. Say what you need to say.”

She looks cute as hell in her fuzzy socks and oversized shirt, her hair sprawled around, falling past her shoulders. He has to make a conscious effort of looking into her eyes instead of staring at the way her shirt hides her curves.

He frowns, “Five minutes? That ain’t enough.”

“And now you have four.”

He takes a seat on the edge of her bed, looking around at the mess of textbooks and papers spread out along with her comforter. He’s quiet for a few seconds as he runs his hands over his face, finally looking up at her with a look of sincerity. 

“I’m sorry.”

“For?” 

“For hurting you.”

He can’t stand that she’s not looking at him as she moves things from the bed, so he stands back up, taking a few steps until he’s standing behind her.

“You ain’t even finna’ look at me?”

She sighs, halting herself as she gives him her undivided attention, “Yeah, okay. You hurt me, Onyankopon. The sky is also still blue. You’ saying shit I’m already aware of.”

“You’ still don’t have anything to say after ignoring me all week? I’d rather you be ready to swing.”

“Swing on you? I only wanted to do that because I was mad. I’m not a bitch who’s gonna keep playing around with you. I’ve known you for years, and you gave me the courage to feel like I could finally admit how I felt about you—How I’ve always felt. But you were too busy worrying about the next bitch, so it was easier to just be cool on you. You then say you feel the same, eat my pussy, and then I catch you with a bitch on your lap the very next day. Tell me, what would you have thought?” She questions, raising an eyebrow.

He can’t deny that she’s right about everything she said, but he never meant to hurt her this much. There was no excuse for what he did, and he’d rather have her scream than give him nothing. 

“You’ right,” he says after a few seconds of silence, “You’ completely right. But it wasn’t like that. I was on the way back to come see you—I asked Ashleigh to come bring my jacket back, and I was gonna end shit with her. She tried to make a move, and y’all walked in as I was tryna put her out.”

She searches his face, seeing that he looked to be telling the truth. He doesn’t add too many excuses or go into detail the way he would if he was lying. 

She then says, “Even if you were just tryna’ end shit with her, you know the bitch doesn't like me like that. You could’ve met her somewhere else on campus. Meet her at your dorm. It wasn’t cool to bring her here. And you’re grown as fuck, it should’ve never got far enough for her to be in your lap.”

“Yeah,” he replies, “Yeah, I know. I wasn’t thinking straight, and I wasn’t thinking about how it would look to you when you saw it. I can’t take it back, but I can apologize for it. For real—Alana, I love you.”

Hearing her government name fully throws her off. She’s visibly taken back as her arms fall from being crossed, pointing out, “You said you loved me earlier before you walked in. I figured you just meant that you liked me a lot.”

“Nah,” he says firmly, stepping even closer until he’s towering over her again, “I do love you. Hell—I think I have since the moment I met you. I was too busy being dumb and running through bitches because I couldn’t accept that I found someone that actually meant something to me. And I kept telling myself it was just a childhood crush that didn’t mean anything. But it ain’t.”

Sweetpea was unfortunately a softy. Her heart did in fact swell at his words, and something in her became extremely happy to confirm it had always been this way between them. She blinks for a couple of seconds, taking a step forward as she places a hand on his jaw, facial hair smooth beneath her fingers. 

“I’m…I’m sorry for overreacting. I just didn’t want to be hurt again. I’ve—loved you for a long time, and I don’t play about my feelings. I wanted them to mean something if I ever admitted them, and at that moment…they didn’t.”

His body visibly relaxes when he sees her softening—especially when he can feel the warmth of her palm against his face.

“Your feelings do mean something. Never think that they didn’t. I promise I’m never gonna hurt you again. I’m done running from you. I’m done being dumb as fuck. I’m yours.” 

The swell of her heart thumps against her chest at his words. It makes her gently tug at his jaw to pull him down, close enough for their lips to touch as she suppresses her smile, “Say it again.”

He can’t help the smirk that appears on his face when he hears her, pulling in even closer to where their noses brush against each other’s. 

“I’m yours, Sweetpea,” he repeats in a deep tone, “A nigga is in love with your mean ass.”

A soft giggle releases from her lips, her face warm at his words. She sighs a bit as his mouth is close, feeling her breath shuddering the same way it did the night before. 

She sighs, “I love you too, Onyankopon.”

His smirk grows even bigger when he hears her finally say the exact words he’d been dying to hear, the feeling of her hot breath against his mouth driving him crazy. He leans himself even closer as she grunts, “I’m missing your mouth bad as fuck.”

This felt like the right moment. 

“So kiss me,” her voice is small, but something equally stirs within her. She wants him just as bad. 

When he leans himself closer, he lets their lips just barely touch, pulling a breathy whimper from her mouth. She couldn’t hide the need she had for him anymore.

He’s tempted to go even slower and draw the moment out, but that sound against his mouth raises a grunt out of him, roughly locking their lips together. She has to bring her arms over his shoulders to balance herself, taking in a sharp breath as his tongue laps within her mouth, effortlessly lifting her feet off of the ground to travel towards the bed.

 When she makes contact with the comforter, her body kneels below him as he stands. She pulls her lips back as her low eyes travel, grazing her fingers down his torso, meeting with the strings of his sweatpants as she pulls at them.

 “…Can I?”

“Go ‘head,” his eyes are equally low, knocking down to watch her.

She can see his bulge from beneath the material as she pulls it down, being met with his dark pink tip, heavy as it slaps along his stomach. Her small fingers wrap around the base of him as her eyes flutter up, adjusting herself as she places her tongue along the tip, giving it a kiss. His spine tingles at that. She’s already wrapping her full lips around him, beginning to gently nudge her head back and forth, steadying her pace to become more comfortable. 

He groans, the sound rumbling deep in his chest as she takes him into her mouth, eyes rolling back slightly at the sensation of her warm, wet tongue gliding along his length. One of his hands comes up to thread through her hair, gripping it lightly as he guides her movements, “Suck that shit however you want to, baby. Just tryna’ help you.”

She feels nervous about her performance. Continuously adjusting her body in a way that makes her hips sway, her back arching as her curls fall around her face and forehead, Sweetpea opens her mouth wider as she drags her head back and forth, allowing his tip to rock against the back of her mouth. Saliva begins to collect at the sides of her reddening lips as she whines softly against him, twisting her head to take him even deeper.

His grip on her hair tightens, guiding her head further down as he thrusts upwards, hitting the back of her throat with a low growl, "Fuck...that's it, Mama." 

He watches her struggle a bit to breathe around him considering his hefty girth, the sight making his dick twitch. She becomes more comfortable by the second, folding her lips more inward as she tightens her mouth, beginning to suck him more towards her throat, creating a wet sound within the room. The walls of her cheeks clamp down against him, coaxing him in each time he pulls halfway out.

"Shit, baby. You’ tryna have me nut in that pretty ass mouth," he says, voice thick with lust. He starts fucking her face harder, holding her head still as he goes in and out, watching her throat constrict around him with each thrust. The wet sounds fill the room, accompanied by her muffled whimpers. 

He reaches forward as he smacks her ass, “Look at you, takin' every inch like a fuckin’ pro. All that fuckin’ mouth, let’s see if you taking dick like that.”

He pulls himself out until his tip hovers along her lips, saliva connected in between the two, her tongue flat against the top as her breath huffs out a sultry giggle. She drags her tongue on the outside of his dick, reaching down as she laps his balls from beneath, eyes still fluttering to stare up at him. She ached for him. 

Something in him becomes irritated at the sight— she looks ethereal, a haunting siren within his mind that dragged him in. He grunts, “You’ nasty as fuck.”

Sweetpea lightly gasps as he turns her the opposite way, pressing her stomach against the sheets while pulling her hands behind her back. Her body jolts as she feels him spank her again, hips arching up as his mouth lowers back down to meet with the entirety of her, sucking her clit in between his lips. She clutches his hand within the fingers he holds, face along the sheets of the bed as she moans softly, beginning to rub her pussy along his face.

He goes in between lapping at her folds while sucking on her clit, flicking it with his tongue as his beard scrapes her sensitive skin. He groans, feeling her juices coating his chin already.

“Needy ass fuckin’ girl,” he spanks her again, “Ride my face slow as fuck. I need a mess in my beard,” He commands, taking his palms against the cheeks of her ass, pacing a torturous rhythm to circle her hips in the air, his mouth catching her pussy back on his tongue.

 That slurping sound returns, her teeth digging into her lip, hair falling over her face as she softly moans and whines against him, arching her hips nonetheless.

His hands slide up her thighs, gripping her waist firmly as he tugs her down onto his face, tongue delving deeper inside as his nose buries into her ass. 

“Need you soakin’ before I go in,” His words are muffled against her flesh, the vibrations sending shivers through her body as he continues to eat her out recklessly. But she’s wet, so wet that she couldn’t have been more ready. He could tell she’s holding back, moans soft, tiny. He needed a symphony.

His tip is nudging in between her folds, feeling heavy even on the outside of her pussy. It makes her adjust her body as he holds her down with one palm, keeping her body arched to perfection. She then knocks her head to the side, eyes locked into his as she watches him—it was like all time had slowed. 

Her wet folds spread apart as her walls began molding around his tip, gripping the flesh and pulling him in inch by inch. Her walls feel swollen, aching as he goes in, fluttering before gripping back around the weight of his girth. She was entirely full, so full that she looked back at him with a pout, whimpering as her back arched through the discomfort, dragging herself forward to pull away. He somehow manages to catch a lock of her hair as he grunts, “Don’t do all that, you better take this fuckin’ dick like you was before,” which makes her deeply gasp, trembling out a whine as his balls slap along her clit, ass clapping along his hips as he’s fully inside. He pulls halfway out before he sinks back in again, a waft of air pushing out her pussy, making a loud squelching sound as her eyes roll to the back of her head, “Oh fuck, Ony…”

“Keep that fuckin’ arch,” he grunts, her inner walls squeezing him like a vice, “I’m stretching your shit, huh? I know, Mama," He taunts, pulling her back again, another gust of air spouting out, her pussy sobbing at this point. 

It’s dripping all against his balls, she’s wetter than she’s ever been. He begins dropping her down onto his dick slowly, but his thrusts are hard, each stroke hitting her g-spot dead-on as he pounds her mercilessly.

Her mouth is parted open yet nothing comes out for a while, just feeling the pained-pleasure that vibrates her entire body. It feels good, so fucking good that she’s practically paralyzed—and they’d only just started. 

She finally has enough oxygen within her chest to be vocal, her hair falling in front of her face with each stroke, pouting even more as she breathily pants, “All in my pussy, baby…” she doesn’t know where that sentence comes from, but it’s needy, as if she meant every word—She did. 

He keeps up that exact pace as her walls tighten second by second, slowly pounding as her needy plea hangs heavy in the air. 

“Yeah?" He coos, slapping her ass to gain her attention—even if he already had it, “You’ feeling that shit, huh?”

She tries to stop her eyes from rolling back each time her skin sticks to his, the sound in the room like a gunshot going off every few seconds. She sinks her teeth back into her lip as she nods her head, the agreement dragging itself in a prolonged harmony, turning into a chaotic moan of, “I feel you, Ony…I feel it…”

Onyankopon grins sexily like the bastard he is at her submission, seeing the raw vulnerability in her expression. He’s pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in, his balls smacking her clit with each brutal thrust. 

He can feel her walls becoming extremely tight, her whines growing louder—he’s starting to learn her body. He releases her hands which allows her to drop them onto the sheets, reaching around to clutch his fingers in between her throat and jaw. He’s picking up the rhythm of his hips, the comparison of gunshots sounding off as if he’d added more magazines, faster, harder.

“Open my pussy up,” he grunts, “You ain’t finna’ cum and be done. Better wait for me.”

But she can’t wait. Between the sound of his voice, the way her ass just drops, drops, drops to meet his dick, her tongue nearly lolls out, drooling as she can feel herself being fucked stupid. Her mind has never been so blank, which makes the words that come out so air-head like, she’s babbling.

“I’m cumming,” she whimpers with a gasp, still being dropped down all the while, turning her head back to face him, tears falling from her eyes in such a rush of pleasure. She has a death grip against the sheets, clawing with her nails as she whines, “I love you, Onyyy… I’m cumming…”

Her walls are fluttering like crazy—Onyankopon’s eyes drop down to see a beautiful coat of white being painted more and more on his dick each time he pulls back out, the arousal splatting against her skin with each stroke. 

“You love me, Mama?” He tightens his fingers on her throat, her orgasm spinning her in circles as she trembles, “Mhmmmm.”

“That’s why you creamin’ on my shit like that? Cause you love me?”

She softly cries, “Cause I love you,” her entire body shuddering, eyes white as they’re in the back of her head.

He tightens his hold on her throat further, cutting off some of her airflow. The pressure causes her climax to prolong, her pussy spasming wildly around his dick.

"Love me so much you drenchin' my dick?" He growls, watching the thick stream of her juices coating his shaft, "You gon’ milk my nut dry?”

“Yeah,” she sniffles, “Yes, baby…”

“Come bounce on this dick. That’s how you’ finna cum again.”

She could’ve collapsed at this moment, her body exhausted—he’s pulling her onto his lap, placing her feet flat against the bed, arching her hips up as he’s already sinking her back down. He intertwines their fingers together to hold her up, rocking his hips up for her to catch the rhythm he wants. She’s a whimpering mess as she complies, swirling her hips down, grinding herself in a sloppy choreography.

He takes advantage of her vulnerable state, gripping her hips tightly as he begins pounding up into her. Each thrust sends her breasts bouncing and her ass jiggling.

"You' cummin' again," He growls, his own release beginning to build, “Keep riding my shit like that.”

He's not wrong, her pussy is clamping down on him like a trap, and her entire body is in complete shambles.

She places her hands along his chest, running her fingers across his tattoos as she leans herself forward, rocking her hips down, bouncing just like he wanted—of course, her curls fall on her face, the annoying habit of having to blow them out the way pulls a low chuckle from Onyankopon.

 She whimpers to him, “Don’t laugh, Ony…”

His chuckle subsides as quickly as it came, his expression turning serious once more. He grips her hips tighter, his strokes becoming harder and faster. She’s louder, attempting to keep up with him. 

"Don't worry 'bout nothin', Mama. Just ride my dick," He commands, his breathing heavy and labored. Seeing her above him, hair cascaded along her freckled face, her soft sounds—she’s so pretty to him.

Onyankopon’s arms wrap along her lower back as he sits up beneath her, guiding her hips down to connect with his.  She pulls him into a kiss, holding his face to consume his affection, her face splashed with previous pleasured tears,  whispering to him in a tiny gasp, “I—I love you s—somuch, O—Ony…”

His entire body was sensitive to every one of her touches. Feeling like a teenager all over again while they make out, he grunts her name against their mouths, “Alana…” 

He feels how easily she moves her hips, rolling them in sync with his movements to send waves of pleasure through them, groaning between their hot kisses, “I love you…fuck…I do…”

She wraps her arms around his neck as she presses her face into his shoulder, nails digging against his skin as she gasps, “I’m—mmph, I—“ she’s gasping, unable to finish as pleasure raptures her entire body again, all the way down to her feet, muscles aching from the constriction.

She’s tight—he can feel every inch of her warmth as he groans in response to the arch of her back, “Goddamn…” 

His hands travel down her body until they’re both on her hips, guiding them as he bucks up into her, slowly moving her in the same motion, “…Take your time, baby. I’m finna’ bust…You’ cumming?”

She hiccups, nodding her head feverishly as she holds onto him, dragging her fingers up to his head as she grips there, moaning in a high pitched way as she warns, “I’m c—cumming,” closing her eyes as she brings her hips down faster, “O—oh my god—agh…”

Her voice makes his eyes roll back into his head as he holds onto her hips, bucking his own up more to help her reach the peak, “Shit, I ain’ never wanted be nowhere but right here with you. I’m finna’ bust, baby, I—ohhh…f-fuck, Pea…I love you...so much,” his words are broken into short moans as he holds onto her, pulling her as close as they both release together, a symphony of affection turning into an orchestra, filled with emotions they’d had for one another all along.

She keeps her face within his shoulder as she breathes heavily, still holding onto him as her orgasm subsides. The moment her eyes do come up, she can see the last thing she wanted to envision—that damn smirk on his mouth. 

She presses her face into his chest as she grumbles, “Don’t, Onyankopon. I swear to god.”

He grunts as her head presses against him, but a smirk appears all the same, chuckling under his breath as he reaches up to scratch at her scalp. 

“Pussy is good as fuck,” he huffs, Sweetpea jumping as she feels his palm slam down on her ass.

She brings her eyes up, “You could’ve said something romantic—yet that’s what you say.”

“I’ll let you hear them’ three words a thousand more times before the nights over, crybaby.”

She pulls herself off of him as she lays against the bed, pressing herself against the pillow as she feels her eyes becoming heavy. Her hair brushes over her face, uncaring of her body being bare under the night light as she sighs, “Mmm, shut up. Lemme’ sleep.” 

She can hear him shuffling before his weight comes off of the bed, her body not moving as she mutters, “You’ leaving me? Was all that a lie and you really don’t wanna be with me?”

He’s standing over her, watching the way her body just seems to fit against the sheets effortlessly, her curves like an invitation to come back onto the bed with her. 

“Damn, a nigga can’t move without you thinking I’m tryna’ leave? I’m hungry.”

She smacks her lips, turning her face over to meet the wall as she grumbles, “Whatever, lyin’ ass. Get out.”

“I guess that means you don’t want tacos then.”

Her eyes peek open at that. She turns her head a bit as she says, “Them’ birria tacos from the corner?”

“And horchata.”

“Nevermind—You’ cool…or whatever.”

“You gon’ have that ass tooted up for me when I get back?”

“Onyankopon?”

“Huh?”

“Get the fuck out.”

His smirk reappears before he shuts the door behind himself, “Love you too, Mama.”