#i should stop crying and just go to bed at this point

[tkomptgoedluv]

toothpaste kisses.

joost klein x f! reader

request: “could you write a fic with joost x reader where they get intimate and everything is fine and then the reader starts crying, but not because of sadness, but because of how safe the reader feels in their relationship, how loved he makes the reader feel and etc..(just overwhelmed with positive emotions). a lot of angst, but also a lot of fluff, comfort, happiness… like they dont stop being intimate, they continue and its like the best therapy. also aftercare!!!”

tags: f! reader, non-famous! reader, established relationship, literally the most in love two people have ever been, like if twin flames are a thing then it’s them, two freaks get freaky but it’s romantic <3, lil sprinkle of angst, lots of hurt + comfort, even more fluff, all characters are dutch and speak in dutch but dialogue is written in english for obvious reasons.

word count: 5,496.

warnings: mentions of past abuse, a very very vauge + brief description of sa, smut, rpf.

notes: hello my lovelies!! i hope you enjoy this one just as much as i enjoyed writing it <3 thank you so so much to the anon who requested it, i hope you don’t mind that i put my own lil spin on it!! and also a big thank you to my gorgeous gorgeous @joosthead for already being this fic’s number #1 fan — i love you my junipoo!! 💋

── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ──

your fingers itched with the urge to rip out your own hair as you felt your stomach twist itself into another knot.

you’d done this to yourself, completely. you’d gotten yourself into a total, utter mess because you’d seen him again, after so many years of trying to pretend that he never even existed at all.

five years ago, you’d been seeing this guy, this absolute asshole of a man, and it had almost been the death of you. as always with guys like him, the first few months had felt dream-like; he was an angel incarnate and yet somehow, he was all yours. the perfect man, heaven sent, and yours.

you had been so sure of it — you were going to marry this guy one day.

but by the time that those rose-tinted glasses of yours had started to fade and you were finally starting to see him for who he truly was, it was too late. you had just moved to a whole new city for him, left your job for him, cut off each and every single one of your friends for him. “they just wanna see us fail, baby.” he’d said, “you’re better off without them.”

and for far too long, you’d believed that. for almost two years, you had put up with his bullshit willingly, because you’d loved him. even after all of those fights he’d started over nothing, all those things of yours that he’d broken because “it’s either that or i give you a fucking black eye or something.”, you still loved him. you only left once he eventually ran out of things to break and staying true to his word, started putting his hands on you instead.

looking back, that was the only promise of his that he’d ever fucking kept.

being without him had made you realise that you actually knew nothing about where you lived now, even though it had already been years by this point. that was why you had gotten so lost that day, that one and only birthday of yours that you’d spent all on your own.

venturing out of that shitty little studio apartment you used to live in had been brave, considering you had no idea where to go or what to do, but you couldn’t bring yourself to stay indoors anymore. knowing you, it should have been a disaster and it honestly almost was, had it not been for that pretty blond stranger you’d stopped for directions. without him, you probably would’ve ended up god knows where.

luckily for you, though, you just wound up in his bed instead, and three years later you were still there. three years later, you’re celebrating your anniversary with him.

there was never any need for those rose-tinted glasses when it came to joost. no excuses or exceptions that you ever had to make for him. there were no more nights spent crying, locked away in your bathroom, far too afraid to come out because you had no idea what he would do if you did. no more days spent laying in bed because you were still far too sore to move after what he’d done to you the night before.

now your entire life is just travelling around the world with someone you never thought could be real, someone who’s talked you down from just a few too many ledges for you to count, determined to undo all of the damage that the guy before him had done. truly, joost was your best friend; the only person you’d ever met with such a pure heart of gold. the absolutely undisputable love of your life.

and he’d done everything possible to make today as special as he could for you, considering it was obviously also your birthday.

every year you tell him the exact same thing; that the day’s just as much about him as it is you, and that he really doesn’t need to make such a big fuss. and every year he never listens, always clearing out the whole day despite how hectic his schedule always is, just so he can make it all about you. one year he even turned down a spot on a festival lineup because the dates clashed and he deemed you far more important.

earlier in the morning, joost had woken you up with an orgasm so strong that you couldn’t walk for the first hour or two that you were awake. as always, he’d carried you to the bathroom after and gotten you all cleaned up, giggling at how your legs were still shaking, and helped you get ready. you’d laughed with him when he insisted on trying to do your makeup for you too, and had then proceeded to somehow get your eyeshadow everywhere.

cleaning up all of your now pink-stained towels had taken a little longer than expected but you still both made it in time to get breakfast at your favourite cafe. you’d had no idea that booking out an entire section of the place, just for the two of you, was even an option, but that’s exactly what he had done.

then it was back to the marketplace where you’d first met, and joost had let you browse every single one of the stalls. he’d bought you every single little thing that had caught your eye, only stopping when neither of you could carry anything anymore. you’d headed home only once the summer air had started to turn colder and spent the entire uber ride back gushing over the silly girl-stitch plushie he’d bought you in secret, just so you could have one to match his own.

in a way, that was kind of what had led to all of this. why you had gotten yourself so worked up, all teary-eyed and in such a state, whilst joost had you pinned down underneath him.

you really hadn’t seen him in years, not since you’d broken up with him, and he’d looked unrecognisable to you as he’d sat down just a few tables away. because that was just your luck, wasn’t it? seeing your ex at the same restaurant joost had taken you out to for dinner, dressed up all nicely in the suit that you had bought him all those years ago.

from that moment on, you’d been stuck with this dark, bitter feeling that had your stomach tied into all of those knots. your fingers itching with that urge to rip out each and every single strand of hair from your scalp. every bite of your ravioli suddenly started to taste off, almost sour, and you really hadn’t wanted to be there anymore.

it wasn’t because you missed him, because of course you didn’t — not even a little bit. you hated him, despised him actually. you couldn’t stand the very thought of him because for as long as you had been with him, he’d put you through hell and then some. it had taken years of therapy to get to this point where you weren’t having so many nightmares about it all anymore.

it was just that seeing him all of a sudden with someone new, a girl that he was absolutely fawning over, it had done something to you. from the corner of your eye you had seen how he was holding her hand on the table, looking at her with so much adoration that you’d realised that not once had he’d ever looked at you like that. not even once, not even at the beginning.

it never should have bothered you as much as it had. from the inside out, like a parasite, it was eating you alive.

and then joost, in the most wonderful way possible, went ahead and made it all so much worse without even meaning to.

because despite how disappointed he was that you so badly wanted to skip dessert, the milk chocolate cheesecake on the menu having already caught his eye, he’d taken you home the moment you’d asked. he’d been so soft with you as he’d helped you out of your dress, slipping the burgundy silk so carefully down your shoulders and holding your hands as you’d stepped out of your heels. he’d picked you up and laid you down on the bed that you shared as though you’d break if he was too rough, and kissed you everywhere that you’d needed him to.

he already knew that something was wrong — had done since the restaurant because more than anything or anyone else, joost knew you. you weren’t one to ever leave a plate half finished and you’d barely made a dent in your pasta. in a blink of an eye you’d gone from all giddy and energetic to solem, only just about managing to keep up with the conversation that you had been the one to start.

you just weren’t yourself anymore and he had no idea why, so whatever it was that was on your mind, he was going to do everything he could to help you forget about it.

and in the end, it was all too much.

the feeling of joost on top of you, weighing you down as he took such good care of you. the way he was being so unbelievably gentle as he fucked you, his strokes slow but still deep enough to hit all of the right spots. how he was holding himself up with one of his hands as the other grasped your hip and pulled you down onto him with every thrust.

at first it had you whining, mewling, and your nails carving straight lines down the skin of his back. you’d been louder than the creaking of the bed-frame, whimpering sweet, dirty sounds right into his ear. he always loved it when you were vocal like that — he’d told you so the very first time he ever had you caged underneath him like this.

but for the past few minutes you’d fallen uncharacteristically quiet, those near-pornographic moans of yours quickly turning into sniffles as tears began to wet your cheeks.

they weren’t the happy kind. they were the tears that people only ever shed when they’re too caught up inside their own heads.

how kind he was being with you, how kind he always is with you, all it did was remind you of just how safe you are with him. that to joost, you’re something so unbelievably precious and worthy of all this warmth. you’d been so silly earlier to get so upset over your ex, so stupid to have let it almost ruin your evening together.

joost had been too distracted to have heard your first couple of cries, too concentrated on watching it slide in and out to have noticed all of the tears spilling out of your eyes. he was a bit of a perv like that; always will be when it comes to you.

but then he lifted his head up, a grin tugging at the very corners of his lips, desperate to see that doe-eyed, cock-drunk look on your face. he wasn’t expecting to see you look so sad of all things, your eyes already all red and watery as you wept. he stilled immediately and moved his hand from your hip up to brush the hair out of his worried eyes.

“hey, what’s the matter? you okay?”

he hoped to hear you laugh then, reassuring him that you were alright and you were just feeling too many good things all at once. he didn’t like that you tried to hide away from him then, burying your face into the crook of his neck as you mumbled a quiet plea for him to keep going, because you were ‘fine’ and he didn’t need to stop.

“honey, no, you’re crying.” as gently as he could, joost pulled out of you and rolled off, leaning back onto his side of the bed. “what’s going on?”

you were sobbing into your hands now, still laying flat on your back with the duvet all bundled up around your waist. there was still so much of you out on display for him but for a reason that you couldn’t quite explain just yet, letting him see you cry like this felt like far too much. even as he gently tried to pry your hands away, you were fighting to keep them there.

“you’re scaring me, baby. what did i do?”

“no no no, jesus, no, you haven’t done anything, i promise.”

only then did you let him see you, not bothering to stop and wipe your eyes before you dragged him back down to you and curled up as far into him as you possibly could. you felt his arms wrap around you and pull you almost entirely on top of him, letting your legs all tangle together with his own. thick fingers raked through your hair as you laid your head down on his sternum, listening to the strong, heavy rhythm of his heartbeat.

“then what is it, schat? what are you feeling right now?”

a small, blubbering giggle came out when you went to speak, a few more of your tears falling and dampening the blonde hairs on his chest.

“i just…i really love you a lot and i don’t always know what to do with that.”

the short pause that followed had you holding your breath, knowing that he wouldn’t but still expecting him to be at least just a little annoyed with you. with how badly you’d spoiled the moment, you wouldn’t blame him if he was.

“damn, i must be a lot better at the boom-boom than i thought.”

joost couldn’t even finish his sentence without laughing and how you groaned at it, nestling your face in the skin between his pecs, turned that laughter into a high-pitched squeaking.

“joost! i’m being serious.”

“i know, honey, i know, i’m sorry — was just trying to lighten the mood.”

you felt his fingers back in your hair, tucking random pieces behind your ears and brushing loose strands away from your eyes. each movement of his was somehow softer than the last until his hands were cradling your jaw and tilting your head up, your chin resting on his chest.

now that you could see how was he looking at you, with stars all in his eyes and an aching smile on his face, you felt your bottom lip start to quiver again.

“you know i love you too, right? so much.”

the noise that you’d made as you tried to nod your head, a quiet “mhm.” mixed with a sudden, sharp hiccup, made joost laugh again. he swiped each of his thumbs along the very tops of your cheekbones, wiping away all of the water that was still trickling down your face. you were yet to look away so you saw how something in his eyes changed and how that soft smile of his waivered.

“so then why all the tears, baby?”

you stiffened, your muscles tensing under his touch as you finally broke and turned your face away. “i saw koen today — back at the restaurant.”

and just like you had joost also froze, because he knew exactly who koen was; knew every last detail about the guy, in fact. he knew that koen was the reason why you hardly slept during the first few months that you were together, those nightmares of yours keeping you awake for far too many days straight. why you used to never really eat anything, either, because he’d conditioned you to believe that it was somehow ‘unattractive’ if you did. joost also knew that koen was the reason why you’d had hand-shaped bruises around your neck that very first day you’d met.

“that’s why i wanted to leave. as soon as i saw him i just…i couldn’t stay there knowing that he’s not rotting in that shithole apartment like i thought he’d be.”

you took a moment to sit up, the duvet falling off your shoulders as you wiped your runny nose on the back of your hand.

“i know it’s stupid, but seeing him there with a girl and the both of them looking so happy, i just, i never thought that he would change, you know? that he could change, because if so then why not for me? why wasn’t i enough to change for?”

joost copied your movements and sat up as well, taking your hand in his just to play with your fingers as he listened to every word.

“but then you happened, like, you’ve been so perfect to me today, just like how you always are, and it made me think about how lucky i am to have you. i should have never, ever cared, not for a second, about whatever the fuck koen’s up to now because i have you and that’s more than i’ll ever fucking deserve. i meant it when i said i was only crying because i love you too much to know what to do with the feeling -”

your little monologue, your sappy, word-vomit rambling was cut short when joost kissed you hard, his hands holding you steady on either side of your face. as gently as he could he guided you to lay back down, your spine meeting the mattress as his silver chain started to dangle in your face.

this was his way of shutting you up because you were doing it again. you were getting so caught up in the little things, so overwhelmed by your feelings, that you were just upsetting yourself, really. and you do that a lot. for good or for bad, you always let yourself feel such big things that it pulls you apart at the seams sometimes.

like that one morning a couple months ago; you saw a mouse on your walk to work. it’s little pink tail was missing, small clumps of it’s grey fur had been ripped out of it’s skin, and it had just been laying there, unmoving. you’d cried so hard over it that you got sent home before you ever made it in.

or like last year, when joost showed you an early demo of ‘last man standing’ and you’d wept in his arms for god knows how long afterwards. everything he expresses in that song the two of you had talked about before, you knew that was exactly how he felt, yet hearing him sing it had felt far more catastrophic.

“mijn meisje, you don’t ever have to do anything, okay? you’re already ‘it’ — you’re my dream girl.”

with a wobbly bottom lip you nodded, only barely holding yourself together as he grinned down at you, each of his hands beside your head, holding himself up.

“i mean it, baby. can i prove it to you?”

you could have melted right then and there. the way he was talking to you, his voice all low and breathy in your ear as he kissed you up and down your jaw, it was making your head spin. you nodded again, running your hands up and down the skin of his sides until he pulled back a little, that silver chain of his hanging in your face again.

“need to hear you say it, schat. we don’t have to keep going if you don’t want to, it’s okay.”

“no no, please. i’m alright, please don’t stop.”

sitting up on his knees, joost took each of your thighs in his grasp and pulled you down closer to him, wrapping one of your legs around his waist and resting the other on his shoulder. with that gentle grin still plastered across his face he held his pinky out towards you and wiggled it, his eyes softening when you giggled.

“okay, but if you change your mind at any point, you gotta promise me -”

“- i promise i’ll say something.” you hooked your pinky around his and squeezed it before bringing his hand up to your mouth, planting a kiss across his knuckles.

you were going to be the death of him one day.

letting your head fall back against the bed, a small moan slipped past your lips when joost pushed himself back inside, easing himself in all slow and steady. he left soft, wet kisses along the skin of your calf and drew small circles on your clit as he quickly found his rhythm again.

it was cruel, really, the way he was moving oh-so painstakingly slow — how he was purposefully going too slow because he knew that it would have you like this. sweat already dripping down the sides of your forehead, handfuls of the white bedsheets in a tight grasp, begging him to give you more as you writhed on his cock.

you were just so sensitive to it all, weren’t you? so reactive to each and every single one of his touches. you didn’t exactly make it hard for him to taunt you like this, for him to keep dragging it in and out with a thumb still rubbing circles on your clit, knowing full well what it was doing to you. joost could see just how wound up you were getting, could feel you trying to pull him in closer by your leg that curved around his hip.

“fuck…you’re…you’re being mean, joosti.”

with that smile still firmly on his face he chuckled and stilled inside of you, moving his hand away from your clit to readjust both of your legs. your ankles were resting on his shoulders now, and the warm palms of his hands were caressing the skin of your shins.

“am i, baby? i’m sorry.” he placed another kiss onto each of your calves, his hands trailing down until they were squeezing your thighs. “how do you want it, baby? tell me.”

every muscle in your body clenched then, as a singular, sharp breath caught in your throat.

“h-harder.”

you felt him start to move again, his hips thrusting at that same, agonisingly slow pace.

“yeah? think you can handle it? think you’re ready for the boom-boom?”

the noise you managed to produce, something in between a snort and a cackle, was unlike anything you had ever made before. joost was in utter stitches over it above you, his head thrown back in laughter as he wheezed, tears welling up in his eyes. in a mere matter of seconds, both of your faces were bright red, your laughs turning silent as the pair of you struggled to breathe.

bringing your legs down and your knees up to your chest you wrapped your arms around your stomach, feeling that tightness in your tummy grow the harder you laughed. with your eyes squeezed shut, you hadn’t seen joost make a reach for his phone — hadn’t seen him snap a quick picture of you all red in the face and smiling, before playing the song on full volume.

he could barely hold himself up as he began to sing along, hiccuping over every other word as he giggled.

“this is my boom-boom; my love and desire!”

“no, no stop — you can’t do this.”

shaking your head, you were trying to push him off of you before he tossed his phone to the side and caught your hands, holding them together and keeping you firmly in your place.

“this is my boom-boom; set it on fire!”

“absolutely not! you can’t…you can’t sing that song whilst you’re still inside of me.”

he pouted, feigning a quiver in his lips. “but i haven’t even gotten to the good part yet!”

you tried to be stern, tried to stare him down with a frown on your face and a furrow in your eyebrows, pulling your hands free to cross your arms over your chest. you tried to pretend to be annoyed, but after a single moment of silence, the both of you broke. all over again, you were laughing hard enough for it to hurt.

making another reach for his phone, joost finally turned the song off as you wiped the last few stray tears of joy away from your eyes. you wrapped your legs back around his hips and pulled him down until you could weave your arms around his neck too, and moaned when he immediately attached his lips to that sweet spot of yours behind your left ear.

“hey.” his voice was quiet, coming out all muffled as he sucked, licked, nipped at the skin of your neck. “think you can give me one more?”

you felt him smile against you as you shuddered, your nails digging their way back into his spine. “make it two.”

you were waiting to hear him say it, some kind of sassy remark about how ‘you should be careful what you wish for’ or something along those lines, when he knocked a breath out of you. with a hand now holding one of your knees back as the other stayed beside your head, holding himself up, he slammed his hips against yours over and over again.

the sounds were obscene. you were biting into his shoulder, whimpering and whining from every thrust as other parts of you squelched around him, sucking him in. there was no begging for him to go any faster this time around, not when he was already pounding himself into you hard enough to have the headboard banging against the wall.

you were close to delirium as your eyes rolled back inside your head, the rest of you falling limp against the bed. the air around you was hot, almost too hot, and joost’s warm breath fanning against your neck really wasn’t helping. with how wonderfully out of it you were, you had to grip onto each one of his biceps just to feel as though you were still in the room.

“how you doing, honey? talk to me.” joost was grinning again, having finally parted from your neck now that he had left behind a dozen heart-shaped spots along your pulse-point. “does it feel good?”

he already knew that it did; he could tell simply by the look on your face. that gorgeous, brainless, cock-drunk look that he had been so, so desperate to see all evening.

you only just about managed to cry out his name, having long forgotten every single other word in your vocabulary. your mind was blank besides that because all you could think, all you could feel, was him. you felt him drop your knee and slip a hand underneath the base of your neck, cradling your head as he gave you no other option than to meet his eyes.

“you still with me?”

you couldn’t answer him — couldn’t form a sentence, couldn’t even nod your head ‘yes’. at first it worried him, made him call out your name as he slowed down just the slightest bit, until he felt it. you were squeezing him tighter than you had been all night, your legs all tensed up and shaking, still locked firmly around his waist.

small, babbling noises fell from your lips as your stomach began to twist itself up into a much different knot than before. the crease in your eyebrows deepened, your eyes widening as you stared back at a beaming joost. something inside of you, something new, was building up, and up, and up, and you were doing everything you could to keep it all in, too scared to find out what would happen if you didn’t.

“no no no, baby, shh, no it’s okay.” joost had seen the fear start to creep its way into your eyes, the corners of your lips start to droop down into a frightened little frown. prying it away from his arm, he took one of your hands in his and laced your fingers with his own, giving your knuckles a sweet kiss and your palm a soft squeeze. “i’ve got you, it’s okay. you can let it go.”

you hesitated; the cramping in your tummy making you wince.

“let it go for me, schat.”

and with a squeal, you did. you let whatever that thing was inside of you snap as you screamed out his name, clutching onto his hand tight enough to have both of your knuckles turn white.

the sheets were sodden from where you had gushed all over his cock. your lower back quickly began to feel all warm and damp the longer that you stayed laying in the puddle of your own mess, your legs twitching and your chest still heaving. you couldn’t hear him over the ringing in your ears but joost was talking to you, whispering gentle, saccharine praises as he smoothed your hair back and away from your eyes.

“i’m so proud of you, mijn meisje. look at you — you did so well for me.”

the best you could do was hum in response, your cheeks all wet again from the tears that you hadn’t even realised were falling. though you still managed a small hiss when joost pulled out of you as carefully as he could, still half-hard and leaking from his swollen, red tip. confused, you grabbed his wrist when he sat up and went to reach for his boxers, immediately shaking your head ‘no’.

“but you haven’t…i promised you one more.”

you were so good to him; honestly a little too good. even after all of that, after you’d just given him the biggest ego boost of his life by doing the hottest thing known to man and squirting all on his cock, you were happy to give him more. you were already starting to doze off as you tried to pull his underwear out of his hands but was still so eager to continue, just so he could get off too.

joost just smiled down at you, holding his boxers out of your reach as he bent down to kiss you, his free hand grasping your jaw as he gave you a big ol’ wet smooch right on your lips.

“hey, don’t worry about that, okay? you’ve already done so much, been so perfect for me. just rest now, baby — you’ve earned it.”

by the time that he finished speaking, your eyes were already fluttering close.

you fought your hardest to stay awake as joost took the chance to stand up, only a slight stumble in his step as he slipped back into his underwear and a random pair of sweatpants. in fact, you were so focused on not falling asleep, you hadn’t even noticed that you’d drifted off until you suddenly felt an arm slip underneath your knees and another under the curve of your back.

you hadn’t been out too long, just long enough for joost to have gotten you all cleaned up. with one of the only towels from earlier that he hadn’t managed to stain with your makeup, he’d wiped up whatever mess remained between your legs and helped you into something a lot more clean and comfortable. despite all of the pairs of cute pyjama sets that you own, he’d decided that his old ‘i (heart) joost klein’ t-shirt and nothing else was better.

how you’d stayed asleep through all of it was a mystery to you, usually you weren’t such a heavy sleeper like that. but it had taken joost picking you up off of the bed, holding you tightly to his chest as he carried you out of the room for you to come back around, your eyes heavy with sleep.

“where are we going?”

you yawned and tried to stretch, whining when you felt just how sore and achy your legs really were.

“we’re gonna go for a nap on the sofa, baby — bed’s too messy to sleep in tonight.”

even with how tired you felt, you still felt a pang in your chest. your sofa wasn’t uncomfortable by any means; it was big enough for most of your friends to all sleep on at once and comfy enough for them to not complain about it the morning after. but still, you’d made a mess. ruined a set of perfectly good sheets, probably stained the perfectly good mattress, too.

“sorry.”

“don’t say you’re sorry, oh my god.” joost wasn’t having any of it. if you hadn't of shut your eyes again, you would’ve seen him glance down at you, absolutely bewildered that you felt the need to apologise for such a thing. “i’m not kidding, don’t even try it.”

the soft cotton of the sofa cushion dipped underneath your weight as he laid you down on it, carefully manoeuvring himself beneath you before pulling one of the blankets down, tucking the both of you in. with his chest as your pillow now, you were already barely conscious when you heard him whisper in your ear, his arms wrapping around the dip of your spine.

“love you, goodnight.”

you were going to have to wait until the morning now to get his full, in-depth explanation as to why it was now his mission to have you do what you did tonight, every night.

“love you too.”

[comicarc]

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐌𝐞, 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐌𝐞 𝐍𝐨𝐭 (𝐈𝐈)

•──✮ masterlist ✮──•

> Main Continuity Mark Grayson/Reader > y/n makes a lot of discoveries, some good and some bad as she officially starts working with Teen Team 【 wc: 2298 】

◃ previous ◃ ▐▐ ▹ next ▹

Mark Grayson had powers. Mark Grayson was the new guy. Mark Grayson was sitting injured at the foot of his father’s hospital bed. y/n had no idea what to feel–betrayed by the fact that Mark never mentioned such a monumental change in his life or empathetic to the fact that he needed medical attention immediately. Frozen in place, lips slightly parted, y/n was deciding how to approach the situation when Debbie ran past her to hug her son. They both shed tears in each other’s embrace as y/n watched.

Taking a shaky breath she took a seat at the bench on the other side of Nolan’s hospital bed, back facing the Graysons her head hung low so her tears would be unseen. She silently wept, holding a tissue she had found in the corner of her eye so the salty water wouldn’t stream past her waterline. It was a plethora of emotion she released through her tears. She was trying to forget the literal pain emitting from her bruised body, just as much as she was trying to extinguish the anguish of having to lie to Mark about her own powers. She couldn’t tell him yet, for a promise was a promise. 

A while had passed before silence crept back into the recovery room. Debbie had stepped out to grab some food for the three of them, while Mark paced back and forth, now realizing what he had brushed off before. He should have told her he’d gotten powers, he’d even promised she’d be the first to know at one point, so why didn’t he? 

Mark tried to reason his actions before apologizing to y/n. “I thought things would be different if I told you, and the last thing I needed was more change–”  

“–What? You thought I wouldn’t be excited? Or that maybe I wouldn’t like you anymore cause you’re different? You know you couldn’t have hidden it from me for long, I would have found out eventually. So what exactly would be different Mark, other than me knowing?” y/n retorted with a whisper yell for she feared her voice would have broken midway through her sentence with all the crying she had done. 

“I–I just thought if you didn’t know, then you’d be safe from…” Tears welled in his eyes as he turned his gaze from y/n’s back to his father. “...this.” His voice broke as he finished.

Standing from her place, y/n made it to Mark’s side and hugged him, drowning in his reciprocated embrace. “Don’t worry Mark, I can take care of myself just fine.”

Mark chuckled, wrapping a hand around y/n’s waist. He noticed her wince ever so slightly at the touch but shrugged it off as a result of his super strength. He needed to do better, be better to help stop threats like the aliens, and protect his loved ones from himself. So he decided his first priority would be to get some lessons from a reliable and relatable superhero: Atom Eve.

“How about we get out of here, have some ice cream, and watch some trashy reality TV with your mom?” y/n suggested, hoping it would give Mark some much-needed laughter. 

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

“Cecil?” He’d teleported to y/n in the middle of an empty hallway at school, much to her dismay. “I’m at school, what was so urgent you couldn’t wait?”

He paced toward her, as a faux show of authority, before beginning, “I need you to meet the Teen Team at their quarters, as soon as you’re out. You’re going to have to work together to stop any new threats now that the Guardians are dead.”

y/n didn’t want to get in the middle of any superhero-ing activities, for that always spelled trouble. But, even working together, they were no match for the aliens that attacked downtown. The only way to solidify a weakened defense would be by unifying the most powerful people they could find, her being among them. Reluctantly, y/n answered, “Fine, but this is temporary.”

As if on cue, the bell rang, effectively ending her school day. Heading out the doors as quickly as she could, y/n beat the crowd of teenagers vying to leave campus and flew off to the Golden Gate Bridge without anyone seeing her. On her way there, she wore the costume she’d kept in her bag and stashed the backpack in her bedroom. 

Descending into the base, Rex was the first to greet her, “Well, if it isn’t Ms. I’m Above Everybody. Finally joining?”

Throwing him the nastiest look she could conjure, y/n retorted, “You need all the help you can get. Think of this arrangement as a pity favor.” A smile snuck on her face as she finished and stood to the side watching Dupli-Kate play ping-pong with her other self. 

The base was just the same as the day she’d first seen it, rooms located on the higher levels with the main area split into a spacious floor and a locker room. Kate and y/n stood in another section, where the ping pong table had been set up beside the platform with Robot’s computers. 

y/n was about to strike up some conversation with Kate when the compound doors opened allowing Eve and Mark Invincible to enter. When Eve landed, subsequently having a mini-makeout session with Rex, y/n couldn’t help but feel proud for Mark as he wore his super suit with pride, just like his father. But she mentally reminded herself that she wasn’t supposed to know who he was, so she simply remained quiet, smiling at him like an idiot. Their eyes met for the briefest moment before Rex stole his attention by taunting him and blabbing about how the Teen Team was victorious. 

Robot, shifting the atmosphere to a more welcoming mood introduced, “Welcome, Invincible. My name is Robot. Apologies for Rex Splode, he’s–”

“Unbelievably awesome.” Rex interrupted, with a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. 

Robot, unphased by the disruption finished, “–Incorrigible.” 

Kate was next to introduce herself as all three of her walked up to Invincible. Turning his head, he looked at y/n who sent him a wave of acknowledgment as she said, “Wonder.”

He responded to both heroes with a succinct, “Invincible.”  

Finishing with the introductions, Robot began debriefing, “The flaxans come from a dimension with a faster temporal rate. As a result, the tachyons they emit spin more rapidly than our own. I’ve created this detector to warn us if they return. It should give us a few minutes of early warning.”

Moving away from his computers, Robot stepped toward Invincible, continuing, “Cecil and the GDA have also requested to call on us for any possible emergencies. Since the Guardians are apparently indisposed, Invincible, may we count on you in the future?”

“You sure you want my help?” the boy began, waiting for a response. A moment of silence transpired before he manned up and responded, “Yeah, I mean, of course. Just text me, I guess.” 

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

Sitting at a cafeteria table besides William, who had caught y/n up on all of Mark’s drama, the girl taunted, “So, loverboy?”

Raising his hands in the air to make a point of his frustration, Mark answered, “We’re just friends.”

“Will you stop saying that? It’s like you’re trying to jinx any chance you have of dating Eve.” William chimed. 

“A day ago you said I had no chance!” Mark countered, eliciting a laugh from y/n.

Smirking she elaborated, “That was before everyone saw you leave school with her yesterday.”

Mark’s eyes went wide at the realization. As he began bickering with William about any chance of being with Eve being nonexistent because of her boyfriend, y/n’s phone buzzed in her pocket. Pulling it out, she saw a notification from an unknown number telling her to head to downtown as quickly as she could. Knowing it was Robot, y/n patted William’s back, letting out a quick, ‘gotta go’ as she ran off to the lockers. 

Grabbing her suit from the bag she had stashed inside, the girl made sure to be inconspicuous as she left school grounds fully suited. Flying to the city, she spotted Rex with his arms crossed and a cheeky grin. y/n walked right past him to the ledge where Kate and Robot stood.

Below, she observed the same Flaxan troops marching onto the streets in hordes, except this time they had new tech. The leader emerged from the portal, drawing a red cape and a scar where his eye should’ve been. It seemed they had taken the previous battle a little too personally. She wondered what they were waiting for, as more troops kept filtering in by the second. Her question answered itself when Eve and Invincible landed on the rooftop, occupied by Rex’ scrutinizing inquiries about their whereabouts. 

Unwilling to wait another second on the rooftop, y/n was the first to fly down, landing on the ground with an impact that sent some soldiers flying. Using her speed to her advantage, y/n fought her way through the crowd, creating an opening for the others to land. Eve stayed back to give civilians enough time to escape while the others took their respective places in the battlefield, each superhero attacking a different horde. Once most of the civilians had managed to escape, Eve let out a blast that pushed the Flaxans pretty far back. But, the victory was shortlived for the others seemed to be getting overwhelmed by the forces and Eve was subdued by the flying orbs the army had brought with them. 

Mark broke through the forces after being temporarily held back, directing his rage at the commander. y/n took the troop’s distracted state to decimate as many as she could, dwindling the force to a third of what it was to begin with. Permitting herself enough time to free Kate, Robot and Rex, y/n attempted to figure out how the Flaxan’s were able to stay alive for so long. Her eyes scanned the soldier heading toward her, when they landed on the wristband he was wearing. That was new. 

Conveying her thoughts in her words, y/n tested, “Robot, y’think it’s the–”

“–wristbands. Yes, they protect the Flaxans from our timestream.” He finished. In no time, they were able to subdue the troops with Robot emitting a charge that dirupted all the bands on the same frequency. Retreating, the team had finally won. 

As the dust cleared, y/n began cleaning up the scene as she piled up the debris from the nearby destroyed buildings. She’d left the team to bicker amongst themselves as they always did, knowing that if she waited for them then they’d all be at this for the rest of the day. Invincible was the first to leave, just as the team started to carry their weight in the task.

Mark wouldn’t have left early for no reason. Either, Debbie was in danger or something happened to Nolan, her mind leaning toward the latter reason. She couldn’t just leave the team to finish up on their own like Mark, so she opted to super speed her way out. Finishing in record time, y/n was finally able to act on the worries that plagued her for an hour. She rushed into the GDA facility, suit discarded at her house as soon as she had left downtown. 

As the doors to the room opened, y/n let out a worried, “What happened?” not even registering the fact that Nolan was awake and sitting up. 

Debbie was bewildered at the sight of the panting girl, asking, “You didn’t see my text?”

Feeling her pocket, y/n realized she had left it in her school locker. Shaking her head no, y/n came by Debbie and Mark’s side with a wide smile stretched across her face. Nolan’s awakening was the best news she’d witnessed all day. y/n asked the bed-ridden man the typical questions he’d probably gotten used to hearing ‘How are you? Any broken bones? Y’think you’re recovered, yet?’ before Mark and Debbie left the room to grab some coffee. 

Now alone with the man, Nolan initiated, “Mark told me about his excursion in the field. How’s he doing?”

“Great! He’s got the basics down, pretty well and he’s more powerful than everyone else on the team, but I guess that was expected. But, I think the only reason he hasn’t realized his real potential is the weight of it all. Y’know watching people die and coming to terms with the fact he can’t save everyone yet.” She paused a moment thinking if there was anything more she needed to add. “Oh! Mark doesn’t know about me, if you’re worried about that.”

Nolan lightly chuckled, replying, “I trust you y/n. How are you?”

“With the Guardians dead, I’m with the Teen Team, but y’know how much I hate working in teams. It’s like commiting myself to being a superhero full-time and I can’t–” y/n couldn’t quite verbalize what she was thinking. She didn’t want to be a superhero for the very reason that Mark was hindering his full capabilities. She couldn’t handle the psychological aspect of having the power of preserving life and imposing death, without guilt building in her heart. She had an obligation to save everyone she could, and when she couldn’t, then was she really worthy of such immense power. 

Redirecting the conversation, Nolan told her, “You’ve got just as much potential as Mark y’know. Out of every being I’ve faced, I’d say your powers are second to Viltrumite abilities. You’ll find your way in time.” 

y/n chuckled his comment off, figuring he only said such sweet words because he pitied her. 

-ˋˏ ༻💫༺ ˎˊ-

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taglist: @luvvfromme

[emeraldserenade]

Could I request a ficlet about reader having trauma and stress after Joaquin’s accident and she tries to hide it from him because he’s recovering? Its a little heavier of a topic so I’m sorry if you’re not wanting to go there ❤️

Fears ~ Joaquín Torres

synopsis: you're fears of Joaquín getting hurt get revealed one night when he finds you sobbing in the bathroom.

tw: fem!reader, limited use of y/n, cabnw spoliers, reader has hair long enough to be in a ponytail and braided, barely edited

fic, ficlet, drabble, request

Hey, so I loved this and I changed a little bit of what I originally wrote because this version made me cry less. Enjoy!

➽──────────────❥

You were home when you got the call. "Hello, I'm calling from Walter Reed National Military Medical Center. Is this Y/n?" She asked you.

"Yes, I am," you replied, confused on why the hospital was calling you.

"You're written down as Joaquín Torres' emergency contact, is that correct?" A female voice was on the other side of the line, you're heart stopped when you heard it.

"Yes, Joaquín's my fiancé," you told her, messing with the ring on your finger. You were worried about what she was calling you about.

"I'm afraid there's been an accident," you tuned out the rest of her words as you ran to your car. You knew she wouldn't tell you over the phone how he was so you ran, you got into the car and sped to the hospital. Somewhere along the line you had told the woman you would be there soon and hung up.

Sam was outside when you got there, he greeted you and led you to the private room where you could see Joaquín's surgery. You watched in silence as the doctors worked, at some point Bucky had walked in. You met him once before, before you met Joaquín, it came with being one of Sam's oldest friends.

"...but you... you give them something to aspire to," you caught the tail end of Bucky's speech and heard Sam tease him about his speech writers. You barely paid attention to their conversation but heard Bucky walk over and sit next to you. "He's a strong kid from what I've heard, he'll be ok," Bucky gently laid his hand on your shoulder and you tore your eyes away from Joaquín.

"Thanks, Bucky," you told him. "Or should I call you Congressman Barnes," you teased lightly, trying to keep yourself from crying.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

You were sitting next to Joaquín's bed when he woke up, you weren't there the first time since Sam told you to go eat. Joaquín wasn't mad that you weren't there, he was glad Sam was making you take care of yourself.

"Angel," Joaquín called your attention to him and you whipped your head up so fast he was worried you might get whiplash.

"Joaquín, you're awake," you breathed out, reaching to gently push his hair out of his face. "Are you ok?"

"I am, Angel, don't worry," Joaquín tried to comfort you and you just smiled, not wanting him to worry about you.

✧°˖ . ݁˖︵‿❀‿︵˖ . ݁˖°✧

You had taken Joaquín home, he was told to take it easy. You helped him with everything and when he was a little better and back to work, all your fears gripped you in a vice. Your heart would stop at every phone call when Joaquín was gone, or even with you. You feared not hearing for Joaquín everyday at least once when he was away from you. You never acted on these, you knew he was still recovering. He didn't need to be with you all the time now, he could go and help where he could.

Joaquín noticed, he always noticed when there was something different about you. He saw the way your hand shook when you told him goodbye in the morning, saw the way your eyes widened and glossed over with tears when your phone went off. He was told by others that they had noticed the same reaction when your phone went off and he wasn't around. He noticed how in the morning, when you thought he wasn't awake, you would press your hand to his chest to feel his heartbeat and his breathing. How you would be tense when he walked in a room before relaxing when your eyes landed on him.

He chalked it up to you still trying to deal with him almost dying, that you would be better when he no longer needed the physical reminder of what happened in the form of his bandages. It wasn't until he woke up late one night to find you not in bed. He heard you before he saw you, you were in the bathroom, the only light coming from a candle you had lit. You were hyperventilating, sobs tearing their way through your chest only to be muffled by your hand pressed to your mouth. You were heavily leaning on the wall, your knees to your chest and hair messily pulled into a ponytail.

"Angel?" Joaquín walked over and crouched to be eye level with you. "Angel, please look at me," Joaquín gently pulled your hand from your mouth and your sobs made his heart clench.

"I'm sorry," you sobbed. "Please go back to bed," you told him, not wanting to bother him with your feelings while he was recovering.

"No, what's wrong," Joaquín scrunched his eyebrows as you shook your head.

"It's not important," your sobs stopped and your tears slowly stopped as you told him. You wiped your tears but he wasn't taking that as an answer.

"It's clearly important if you're crying in our bathroom at 2 in the morning," Joaquín told you and you sighed, knowing you were going to cry again when you spoke.

"I'm just," you paused as more sobs tore from your throat, your tears returning. "I'm just worried that now that you're getting better, you will take more risks when you get back out on the field. That you will get through this but not the next," your tears sped up again and Joaquín told a hold of one of your hands. "I fear my phone going off because what if it's Walter Reed calling to tell me you're there again. I fear that you're gone when I don't hear from you when you're gone, I fear that I'll wake up one day and you'll be gone," you paused as more sobs tore through you. "I'm sorry, you're recovering, you need to rest and relax. Not worry about me, go back to bed, please," you sobbed and covered your face with your hands again. You couldn't deal with him seeing you like this, not when he was still hurt.

"I'm not going anywhere, now or ever," he told you, he rested his hands on your knees. "I promise you, you will never have to lose me," he reassured you and when you removed your hands from your face, he took them in his. He guided you up and back to bed where you both laid back down, you blew the candle out on the way out of the bedroom.

"I'm sorry," you were cut off by Joaquín kissing you.

"Don't apologize, you're allowed to feel anyway you want," Joaquín told you. "I promise when we wake up in the morning, we will talk about how I can help you get over your fears," Joaquín promised and you just nodded, the exhaustion from crying finally washing over you.

➽──────────────❥

Masterlist | Requests

[81pastrys]

The Mafia’s Princess

Part 10 / 16

Summary— Charles returns to racing while Arthur’s stays to watch over her, but tension arises.

Warnings— angst ; mentions of sex ; depression ish

A/N— she’s losing it guys

Series List

Charles had to go back on the road for racing, leaving Arthur to care for me in the coming weeks. Charles gave him clear instructions not to hinder my progress. I don’t mind the company, but recently I’ve been more annoyed with him. The schedule he created to tend to my wounds or the business deals he mentions I can be doing just pisses me off.

“Fuck Arthur would you shut up?” I snap at dinner one night. I recoil from my own words and cover my mouth. “Sorry, I didn’t.. I don’t know where that came from.” I add nearly mumbling.

“I think you need a break from me.” He nodded as he spoke. In reality I was just angry at the entire situation unfolding. “Charles should be back next week, I’ll give you two space when he does.” I felt horrible.

“No Arthur, you can stay!” I change my attitude quickly. “I’m sorry, it’s just I haven’t done business in so long and I haven’t had sex either and it’s getting to me.” I say quickly shaking my head. It’s true, that was number 1 on Charles list of things. No sex with Arthur and absolutely under no circumstances do business.

Which we, obviously, followed to a T. He implemented the rules to help me heal but it just seems to irritate me the more time that passes. “How long have you gone without having sex with Charles?” Arthur asked, seemingly not believing that part. “I’ve heard you’ve gone a year and right now you’re telling me you can go 5 weeks.” He accused. His words were calmly spoken but held weight.

“Well yeah but it’s also you weren’t around either and I’ve-“ He cut me off. He never cuts me off.

“Don’t blame this on me.” He said. His words carrying more emotion than he let off. “I was around, maybe not long enough or in the right situation for us to fuck, but I was around.” Another point taken. Fuck.

“Don’t say fuck, it’s degrading.” I mumble more to myself, knowing I should’ve kept my mouth shut. He stands up and discards his plate from dinner and slams his room door shut, making me wince. I finish my food and do the dishes.

I go to my room, looking at the time. Usually Arthur is hounding on me about wrapping my wounds, but silence fills the giant room I stand in. I start to tend to my own painful skin before he enters the room. Presumably hearing my sobs I tried to keep quiet. “Stop, Cherie, you’re just going to hurt yourself more.” He said soft, calm, as if we didn’t just fight at dinner.

I don’t say anything but let him fix the wrapping. When he was done, he left without a peep. I take a deep breath and let more tears fall. Not from the physical pain, but the mental hurt I’ve probably caused the three of us combined. I curl up in my bed sobbing to myself.

Charles called, but I had ignored it. I expect he wants to scold me for how I treated Arthur after all he has been doing. The third call goes unanswered and no more follow. I lay in a puddle of my own tears looking out to the moonlit sky.

Suddenly the bed dips from behind me and an arm snakes around my waist delicately. I cry harder knowing that it’s Arthur and not Charles coming to comfort me. “It’s alright Cherie, just go to sleep for now.” He says barely audible. He pulls me closer gently as to not hurt me. I fall asleep in the false sense of security that everything is okay.

Once again, my sincere condolences.

[just-a-queer-disaster]

Just cried thinking about when Selwyn finally reaches a breaking point, a point where he is either going to break down and finally feel or self implode. Nick sees this. Bree sees this. Selwyn refuses to let them in, lashing out. Bree defends herself, as she should. Nick is familiar with this stragety and goes in, all force hugging Selwyn while Selwyn is screaming and hitting and yelling insults, struggling to escape his hold.Nick goes over to a quiet space because honestly Selwyn doesn't need the noise and the eyes of others while hes going through this. Far enough for human ears,and the room is some kinda metal room, a storage closet of some sort, so any other ears who hears the muffled conversation knows it is not for them. Inside, Selwyn is still fighting, all like "Why wont you fight back?! Why aren't you yelling or hitting or something?! This is the loudest I've ever been in my life and you're so quiet?!" And Nick softly explains how Selwyn NEEDS to stop and take a break, probably a literal cry break, or he is going to self implode into a black hole. Nick is all like "I see how you feel everything so deeply and just shove it away. you cant shove it away forever. I had time. I had time to process and grieve when I left the Order. The Order gave you the illusion of time, but never truly allowed you to take a break. They taught you to turn pain into anger and that anger into a weapon, but you cant heal by stabbing yourself. You need to grieve,to truly feel what you feel. For yourself, for others, for things and dreams and possibilities and all the worlds you've created and destroyed inside your head. But I know you don't know how. And I know I cant tell you, because my grief will look different. So if you need to scream and fight and yell and someone, then I am here. " A few more words and Selwyn says "Why don't you hate me?" And Nick goes "Oh, I could never hate you" And then apologies and love confessions and Selwyn feels something in him finally snap and he has the longest sob of his life while Nick holds and coddles and finally gives him what he's craved for so long. Nick wraps him in a blanket, because he knows Selwyn hates it when people see him cry, and he gets to hide his face knowing Nick doesn't need to see his pain to SEE his pain.It also helps with the bone deep chill Selwyn feels all the time because he runs so hot,a soft warm embrace on top of a soft, warm embrace. And he cries. Its an ugly, grieving cry, tears snot and drool,with choking and coughing and gasping and waves of calming down before crashing all over again. It the kind of cry you have after you've been so much for so long and simply cannot do it anymore. He cries until he sleeps. Nick cleans him up and carries him outside to the bed and Bree and Nick have a little "Some important conversations need to be had but not now" kinda talk and the three take a much needed nap.

what if I made a fanfic ab this bc this summary doesn't do my vision justice.

[yoshi-disney]

NOT MY ART!!!!! Artwork created by Nikkotari on Instagram, check them out :)

Theres an extremely angsty headcannon I've had in my mind ever since I saw this image in which I will now bless the Arcane tag with, apologies in advance....

HC: Jinx looked down on the cities as the sun slowly set across the horizon.

It had been one month since the war in Piltover and nothing was the same. Many good things have happened sure. Zaun now had a representative on the council with the full backing of the richest house in Piltover 'Even if it is that one armed ogre' Jinx thought to herself. Zauns air ducts became infused with what was left of Hextech, creating near perfect conditions in the undercity. And of course there was Ekko, kind, loyal Ekko. How he had forgiven all of what Jinx had done to his firelights was beyond her but he was by her side now, and that was something she hoped never changes.

But Vi was gone. Blown to smithereens after saving her from that creature. All that remained of her were her two gauntlets. Jinx felt a tear flow down her face as memories of that day came back. "Im always with you sis, take care of Cupcake will ya," those were her final words, words that have haunted Jinx every day since. Ever since she found her bones scattered throughout the tower and blood still fresh in her gauntlets. It took Ekko days to finally calm Jinx down the same way he did before this stupid, pointless war. And for a while, with his and the firelights help she was calm, she started to feel some semblance of peace again living with him and his tree people.

And then all that changed when Caitlyn found out about Vi.

She rememberd going up to Piltover to check up on Vis girlfriend, 'which I probably wouldn't have done if she hadn't asked me too.' But she was stopped short when she heard a piercing yell coming throughout "cupcakes " house. It was heartbreaking, it was the sound of someone who had truly lost evreything, Jinx knows from experience. She rememberd peering through the windows to see Caitlyn fighting off doctors trying to restrain her. Caitlyn had said something to the affect of "No, she can't be dead" but the windows and her cracking voice made it hard to understand.

She rememberd going back and crying in Ekkos arms, her heart broken after what she saw and heard that day. But tonight was a different night, Ekko had followed behind her as they went back to the Kiarmann estate to check up on Caitlyn, as Jinx did every day, with Ekko occasionally tagging along for the hell of it. Although Jinx noticed there wasn't much to "check up on" nowadays because, well, Caitlyn never did anything anymore.

'Wakes up, makes tea, sits by the fire, sometimes cries though she's been doing less of that lately, ever so often sits in the garden, sits some more, eats a littlebit of soup, ALWAYS has one cupcake at night, goes to bed.' Jinx had her routine pretty much down to a science at this point. "You know if it wasn't your sister's dying wish for you to stalk her girlfriend, that would be a little creepy. " Ekko said, Jinx gasped, realizing she said all that out loud, she proceeds to sock Ekko in the shoulder. "Ah, sorry just, trying to lighten the mood a little. " Ekko said. Jinx smirked a little, appreciating the effort, as useless as it may have seen. What Jinx didn't understand though is, why WAS she doing this?

Well, she knows WHY she had to do it, because Vi told her too. But Vi knew she had a Dad, servants, and doctors on call who would be there if she needed serious help, hell Jinx had seen that happen plenty of times on days Caitlyn wouldn't stop crying. So why would Vi want her of all people to take care of Cait, HER. The same psychopath who captured her in the shower and tortured her because she was jealous. Jinx watched intently has Caitlyn stared off into space, which was most of what she does now. Her eyes, well, eye, filled with unshed tears and a tea on her side that's most likely gone cold.

"I think you should speak to her," Ekko said out of the blue. Jinx perked up, "Why the hell would that be a good idea?" Jinx asked. "You know damn well what I've done to her, I can't go near her." Ekko put his hand on Jinx's shoulder. "Look, Vi, wanted you to take care of her, and, you haven't been getting too far." Ekko said softly, "I think you, and her, need to talk about Vi, she loved you two more than anything. " Jinx nodded, he was right. Caitlyn had been getting worse, she hadn't been sobbing or crying her eyes out evrey hour or so as she was when Vi first died. But she's been growing distant, slower in all of her actions, she hadn't even left her room this week. Caitlyn was spiraling, and Jinx would know, because she had spiraled before.

Ekko was right, they needed to talk, because the only people in the world who could've possibly understood what losing Vi meant, was her and Caitlyn. Jinx took a deep breath, "what do I even say to her?" Jinx asked. "The truth, " Ekko responds with confidence. Jinx raised her eyebrow "and what would that be?" She asked. "You'll know dear" Ekko said kissing Jinx's forehead, "if anything happens I'll be right outside and I'll take you out." Ekko said Jinx agrees.

The room is warm, really really warm, Jinx was wearing a tank top and she was burning up. She couldn't even imagine how hot Caitlyn was in that turtle neck vest. Cait was still sitting on that chair, there was a table between her and the fire place. Jinx took a deep breath and walked towards the fire. Jinx walked in front of Caitlyn and sat on the table in front of her. Caitlyn didn't even acknowledge her. "Hey," Jinx said softly. Caitlyn still didn't look at her, Jinx wasn't even sure if Caitlyn knew she was there. "Look, , know you hate me and for good reason I, did alot of, fucked up shit as Vi used to say," Jinx chuckled. Nothing, not even a nod. Jinx wasn't sure what she was expecting based on evreything she's seen, cuss her out, punch her in the face, pull a gun on her, maybe even just straight up kill her. Not whatever this was.

"Look I'm, I miss Vi too, and, I, it's my fault she's dead." Jinx said, tears starting to flow, Janna help her she was rambling. Still Caitlyn said nothing, "I'm so sorry, for everything I've done, I, I had no, fuck me I"

"Jinx" Caitlyn said matter of factly. Jinx looked up and saw Caitlyn look at her, her eye was soft, still held unshed tears. Jinx however was chocking back sob after sob. Caitlyn sighed and held out her hand. "Why?" Jinx asked. Caitlyn breathed deeply and said, "because we're both to blame for this." Jinx took Caitlyns hand and hugged her. Jinx was completely falling apart on Caitlyns chest and Cait was rubbing Jinx's hair, tears falling down her own face. "I'm sorry " Jinx said over and over. Caitlyn simply held her, "Vi loved both of us, even though we've both hurt her." Caitlyn said. "That was Vi," Jinx laughed as she dug herself closer into Caitlyn's embrace, and Caits hug tightened. And it was here, Jinx finally understood why Vi wants Jinx to take care of her Cupcake, because they are now eternally connected by Vis death. And this was how they move on.

[icarusdiesatdawn]

anyone else feeling kinda, i dunno, guilty? just for being alive. With everything going on in the world

[thetardisisnotourdivision]

I am unreasonably upset about the fact that I've been forced to accept that Gabriel was a Gerald.

For context, in An Inspector Calls, Gerald Croft is engaged to Sheila Birling when he meets a homeless, struggling Eva Smith in a bar, and essentially in return for a home and money he shows her affection (ahem), then gets rid of her once he no longer has a use for her. Now, obviously this isn't a direct translation, but the essentials are - a Gerald is a character who uses another character, in return for something they need, usually masking the fact that they're using them with affection and love.

And against my will I've had to accept that this is exactly what Gabriel does to Nathalie.

Did I want to think he had potential to be better? Did I think he genuinely cared for Nathalie?? Hell, did I just really really want somebody to care about Nathalie???

Probably all of the above but the point is: he's Gerald. And I cannot - I literally can't unsee it now. Their whole dynamic in S3 is like “oh boohoo I'm sorry I wish you didn't have to use the peacock Miraculous and kill yourself over it but uh I need to use your powers” “yeah no that's fine I'm all good”. Which, given the "Gerald" theorem, I'm assuming leads to the fact that what Nathalie needed, above all, was someone to care about her - and Gabriel came along, as Sheila Birling puts it, "like a fairytale prince", and was so caring and gentle and... Yeah. She fell for him. And. Yeah he genuinely did seem to care like twice. But so did Gerald. Gerald actually admits that he did care for Eva, just not the way that she cared for him, and, uh, not enough to not just dispose of her. So he discards her anyway when she stops being useful.

Leading me neatly to my point.

He starts using the peacock Miraculous the second it's fixed, the slimy bastard, HOWEVER. It runs way deeper than that. Assuming I'm right (which I almost DEFINITELY am), then Gabriel only needed Nathalie while she was useful. She didn't stop being useful in season three - she's still scheming for him, helping him with plan after plan. It's only partway through season 5 that she officially servers ties with him, and starts to actively hinder him.

Nathalie stops being useful when she fails as Safari. And I reckon that's when Gabriel and Tomoe decided she had to go.

(It's painfully, I-was-ugly-crying-over-it obvious in Conformation that Gabriel is fully prepared to let Nathalie die - in the original storyboard, her alliance was encouraging her to sleep, and he's very obviously prepared for this moment - I've made a separate post about it that I'll link if I can find it. However, onto the next bit)

With all of this, there's one thing that sticks out to me - Nathalie didn't see any of it until it was already too late. There could be many reasons for this. But you know who would have seen through it? Whose parents were all loving and perfect until she married the wrong man? Emilie. Emilie, who left behind those videos, which on the surface look innocent, but when you look deeper look like a (love confession???????) AHEM a warning. I reckon Emilie noticed what was going on and realised that Nathalie wouldn't see through Gabriel, so she left those videos addressed to Nathalie (not Gabriel, which surely they should have been - they were about him, after all - unless they were there...) as a warning. I don't think the videos were supposed to be about helping Gabriel, I think Emilie was warning Nathalie to get the fuck out of that house, and to take Adrien with her. Because Emilie knew it'd end like this.

Yes I'm still mad ok give me a break.

[gor3sigil]

In 2021, my country debated on a law to open medically assisted procreation to women couples and single mothers. When it was debated we asked for it to broaden the conditions to include trans men and transmascs since the only mention of women excluded whose who had changed their gender markers.

We were consistently told by cis and trans women alike to stop making reproductive rights about men, that it was their fight.

The law passed. And we celebrated, and they celebrated, and we held back tears, we'd never be fathers.

In 2024, my country debated on putting abortion in the constitution.

The minister of families received 2 renowned TERFs and tried to change the law go forbid professionnals to refuse an abortion to "women", so trans men whose gender markers were changed could be denied. And we fought, and we fought for the definition to be changed and we won, and we celebrated in

Deafening silence.

“If men could be pregnant it’d be in the constitution already !”

If only you knew.

After I got assaulted, I wanted to take a self defense lesson.

They were “cis and trans women only”, because a man like me shouldn't know how to hit. I went to the gym and I punched a dummy until my knuckles turned purple.

I got a sleep exam. Under anesthesia, the doctor asked me if he should say “sir or ma’am”. I’m tied up on the bed. I asked him to say “sir”. He tells me “I guessed so, you’re such a pretty boy” and he stroke my arm. I want to scream and cry. When I recall the scene to people I'm stealth with, they say I just dreamed, he wouldn't do that, I'm a man. I'm a hysterical woman with extra steps.

I catter to my wounds alone and I wonder

If I got to the point of being hatecrimed

If people would argue on my grave

For it to be called

A feminicide.

[pacofprunes]

SQUID GAME REACTIONS — finding you injured after a night of attacking and fighting

CONTAINS — thanos x reader, daeho x reader, myung-gi x reader, namgyu x reader, gi-hun x reader, inho x reader, se-mi x reader, ali x reader

WARNINGS — injuries, mentions of death, the bathroom scene takes place in the women’s bathroom (or still the male depending on your gender), reader implied to be a girl in namgyus, squid game

your group had tried to stay together throughout the night in case something like this would happen, but with the amount of players, it was inevitable that at least one of you would come out of the night with multiple injuries.

you couldn’t tell who, but another player had knocked you to the ground and had busted your lip before you felt a sharp pain on the side of your neck. you put your hand up to it and felt a cold wetness. before your attacker could finish you off, the guards came in, shooting in the air, demanding everyone to stop. when the lights are on you look at your hand that you had used to touch your neck and it was covered in blood, and the person in front of you had a sharp needle like tool in their hand. the guards had patted you all down, taking every weapon everybody had. once the guards had finally left, announcing all the players who died, that’s when they realized. where were you?

KANG DAEHO

you hear your name being called before turning around and seeing daeho running to you, pulling you into a tight hug. his breaths getting cut off, trying to stop himself from crying before he pulls away and looks at you, fully grasping your injuries. the bottom corner of your lip busted in a deep shade of purple. your neck still dripping blood. he reaches his hand up to your face, grazing the injury on your lip before you pull it into your mouth behind your teeth. the pain starting to settle in as you scrunch your eyebrows together in discomfort.

“i’m so sorry.”

tears start slipping out of his eyes as he holds his hand on your neck, moving it and seeing his palm painted red. you open your mouth to speak but he just pulls you to one of the beds and forces you on it, taking his jacket off and holding it against your neck. he’s just stuck staring at the purple painting your lip and you cup his face in your hand, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“don’t cry.”

you wipe the silent streams pouring out of his eyes. he pulls you into a hug, still making sure the jacket doesn’t fall off of your neck. he mumbles something into your back.

“this isn’t right.”

you pull away, holding him by his shoulders.

“what?”

“i should be the one comforting you right now, not the other way around.”

you scoff, sending him a small smile and a playful smack to his chest despite the sting in your neck. you pull your hand up to your neck, right where daehos hand is and hold it, giving it a small squeeze and he smiles at you. he lets go of your neck, letting you hold his jacket there before he cups your face with both hands, placing a kiss to the corner of your lip where it was injured and then placing his head against yours.

“i won’t let you get hurt again, i’ll die before i let that happen.”

you give him a less playful hard smack to his shoulder, causing him to move back from your face and hold onto his shoulder. letting out an ow. you point your finger at him.

“don’t say that stupid shit again. if you die, i die. if you get out of here, i get out of here, okay? promise?”

you pull him back into a hug and he rubs his fingers through your hair. he takes a deep breath.

“okay, i promise.”

HWANG INHO / YOUNGIL / PLAYER 001

the moment he realized you weren’t near him, he found a guard and told them to end this whole thing. if you’d died, he’d never forgive himself. the moment he finds you, he grabs you by your shoulders and strokes his hand through your hair and moves down to glide his hand over your lip.

“are you okay?”

you were going to nod and brush it off but he notices you were holding the side of your neck so he grabs your hand and moves it and upon seeing all of the blood painting your neck, he stares for a few seconds before you put your hand on his shoulder, pulling him out of his thoughts.

“who did this?”

“youngil—”

he goes to cut you off to ask the same question but you stop him.

“it hurts.”

he softens his gaze before pulling you into his side and walking with you to the bathroom. upon arriving, he lifts you onto the sink counter before turning the water on. he walks into a stall and grabs a long strip of toilet paper, getting it wet before putting it on your neck, watching your face furrow in pain before you open your mouth.

“thank you.”

“you don’t need to thank me.”

he feels the slightest bit of guilt. knowing he’s not telling you who he really is. he’s in love with you, you could’ve died today, and unlike the actual games, he couldn’t have saved you from death. the bleeding finally stops and he uses a dry strip of toilet paper to dot up the leftover blood before taking your hand and helping you jump down from the sink. he still keeps a hold on your hand before he lets go. you look up at him before pulling him into a hug. saying another thank you into his shoulder. he doesn’t say anything back, trying to disassociate and act like this isn’t happening. he doesn’t want to feel guilty, he doesn’t want to love you, but he can’t help it. he simply just brings his hand up to your back and rubs it, letting out a heavy stressed out breath. god, what was he gonna do about you?

SEONG GI-HUN

he’s yelling your name the whole time and as soon as he catches sight of you he pulls you into a hug, immediately crouching down to be directly at your face level, cupping your face tightly in his hands. afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go. the moment he notices your neck, he quickly puts his hand overtop of it before he just looks down at the floor, stifling a sob, whispering something under his breath, but you could hear him.

“i can’t lose you. no, not you too…”

you quickly pull him into a hug and he stands up straight before squeezing you even tighter, face in your jacket, balling his eyes out. for so long he’s kept his emotions under wraps since the first games, but coming so close to losing you, he couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“you won’t lose me ‘ssangmun-dong’”

he pulls away, looking at you with teary eyes, his face absolutely drenched and he actually lets out a small laugh at that nickname, causing you to smile back. you run your hand through his hair before wiping it across his face and then gripping his arms, glueing them to his sides.

“don’t cry over me, okay? i’m still alive. if i keep looking at you like this, i think i’ll cry.”

he quickly wipes his tears and smiles at you and you laugh, only making his smile wider. he grabs your hand in his, squeezing it tight before pulling it up to his face.

“okay, but—”

he points his finger at you, as if scolding a child.

“don’t leave my side again or i’m sure that i’ll cry even harder than this.”

“deal. unless i have to use the bathroom.”

“no arguments there.”

THANOS / PLAYER 230 / CHOI SU-BONG

you had gone off to the bathroom, and not long after, the speakers start saying player numbers. he was too high out of his mind to connect the dots, but as soon as he sees you walk out of the doors up front all bloody and bruised and everybody yelling and fighting about what happened, he’s immediately running up to you, grabbing you by your shoulders, shaking you.

“who the fuck did this to you?”

you keep your mouth shut. if you’d told him, he’d definitely kill them. he goes to walk away and starts yelling at the other side, but you slap his shoulder, grabbing his wrist and pulling him behind the beds.

“stop. the more you fight, the worse things are going to end up.”

he looks at you, eyes going down to your swollen lip before his face softens. he presses a kiss to it.

“but they can’t—”

you press a hand to his mouth, waiting for his talking behind your palm to stop before you finally remove it and press your palm on your neck. he looks down at your bloody neck, staring for a few seconds before speaking.

“you’re not gonna die, right?”

you scoff.

“no i’m not gonna die yet you big dummy.”

he pulls you into a light hug.

“don’t say yet. you’re not gonna die at all.”

he pulls away and shakes his nails in your face.

“remember, the great thanos will protect you.”

NAMGYU / PLAYER 124

the moment he hears player numbers being called and realizes you were in the bathroom, he immediately stands up and starts messing with his sleeves, worried that one of the numbers called was yours and he just wasn’t listening well enough. as soon as people start flooding into the room bloody and screaming, his eyes dart searching for you before seeing you argue with some girl. her threatening to finish you off and you both throwing insults. he rushes over, grabbing your wrist and pulling you away before then pulling you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you. he just stays like that with you for a long while before you have to force him away.

“are you okay?”

he scoffs, looking at your lip and then your neck.

“i should be asking you that.”

“it just hurts. not deadly.”

he bites his lip back before rubbing his hand on the wound on your neck, dabbing the blood with his sleeve.

“you’re too reckless.”

he mumbled that and you just laugh under your breath. he lifts your chin up to look at him.

“next time, you let me do the fighting, okay?”

you give him a look. a look that says ‘no way’ and he can read it easily despite the drugs in his system. he rolls his eyes.

“god, you’re gonna be the reason i die here, not these games.”

you smack his shoulder and he just pulls you into a side hug, patting your back.

MYUNG-GI / PLAYER 333 / MG COIN ★

as soon as he sees you walk out of the doors with everybody and he sees the blood painting your neck, he immediately runs up to you, pushing you over to a wall.

“what the hell happened?”

you open your mouth to respond but stop yourself upon seeing the worry and stress in his face.

“god, are you okay?”

you let out a shaky breath.

“it hurts, a little. i’m more shaken up then anything.”

noticing the tears starting to roll out of your eyes, he pulls you into a hug.

“myungi, i’m scared.”

he pulls away before placing one hand on your shoulder and staring into your eyes.

“i know, but you’ll —”

he cuts himself off.

“we’ll, be okay.”

you start fidgeting with your hands, but he stops you, putting your hands in his.

“okay?”

you nod your head slowly before he pulls you into him again. he’d take this place more seriously. he’d take you guys, your relationship more seriously. he wouldn’t let anything happen to you again.

SE-MI / PLAYER 380

the moment the lights are on and she’s not fighting anybody anymore, she frantically goes looking for you. she knew namgyu hated her, what if he killed you because of her? she couldn’t live with that. so the moment the lights come on and she sees you, she immediately pulls you into her.

“se-mi, are you okay?”

she pulls away.

“i was so scared i’d lost you.”

you take her hand in yours and squeeze it.

“i wouldn’t leave you in this place by yourself, promise.”

she laughs, rubbing the bruise over your lip softly, as if trying to wipe it away.

“you shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep, especially in here.”

you grab her wrist, and she pauses her glides over your lip.

“i’m being serious. as long as you’re here, i have a reason to stay alive.”

she sends a smile your way before she moves her finger up to her lip.

“okay. i’m putting my trust in you.”

she puts a hand on your shoulder, and you give her a reassuring smile before pulling her into a side hug. you were going to get out of here together.

—

ALI ABDUL

he was probably one of, if not the strongest person in that whole place. which is exactly why he was a main target when the fights broke out. you had been behind him but he was practically getting dog piled by people and couldn’t keep you near him. as soon as the lights turned on and the guy that was on top of him surrendered from the sound of gun shots, his head was immediately whipping around the room to look for you, before finally spotting you behind one of the toppled over beds. as soon as the guards finished patting everybody down, he immediately ran over to you, pushing past sangwoo and the moment you saw him you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug. the moment he pulls you back and notices your lip he cups your face with both of his hands, staring at you intensely.

“oh my god—baby i’m so sorry—”

his eyes lower down to scan you more and they meet the large gash in your neck. he immediately lets go of you, taking his jacket off and tying it around your neck frantically. trying to keep it tight, but not tight enough to choke you. now it’s your turn to hold his face in your hands, he’s all bruised up as well, but still focused on you.

“look at you ali! you’ve got bruises all over you!”

he pulls you into a hug and holds your head, keeping it against his chest.

“stop. don’t worry about me. please.”

you pull away.

“you can’t just say that ali! that’s not fair! we’re in a game of death and sure, i could’ve died, but that’s not what i’m thinking about, it’s you!”

you press your head against his before speaking.

“baby, you can’t be so selfless. especially in here.”

you move your hand up to his cheek.

“you can worry about me, you can take care of me, but, i get to do the same with you.”

you look him in the eyes now. waiting for his approval. all he can do is stare into them lovingly before realizing you’re waiting for an answer and he bends down to your level, rubbing his hands on both your arms.

“yes, okay. we’ll stick together. i promise you.”

he gives you one of his smiles and within the darkness of this whole situation, he still managed to brighten up the whole room with that smile. squeezing your hand in his and you squeeze back.

[thecoochiefairy]

74. onyankopon.

𑄽𑄺 warnings 𑄽𑄺 14.5K word count. blackfem!original character, onyankopon, basketball player!onyankopon, sweet!onyakopon, dominant!onyankapon, arrogant!onyankopon, unprotected sex, creampie, vaginal penetration, lil bit of sweet talkin’, creaming, praising, LOTS of dirty talk, kinda aggressive dirty talk, oral [f], nasty sex chile, just a fine ass black man, minors aren’t welcome!

━━ 𝒄𝙤𝒐𝙘𝒉𝙞𝒆𝙛𝒂𝙞𝒓𝙮 𝙩𝒉𝙤𝒖𝙜𝒉𝙩𝒔 .ᐟ i think i like this one. i’m not sure yet, hehe. inspired by one of my fav comfort movies, just wright. + i think of it won’t stop by sevyn streeter when i think of this fic. love you. bye.

(was having a hard time w/ links this time w/ black couples so sorry for that. you get the point. visual. visual. visual. )

HEARTBREAK ANNIVERSARY PLAYED ON A LOOP WITHIN HER SPEAKERS. Being stuck under the covers was never the plan for today—but she was in a funk. 

Her eyes peered over the olive green plush of her comforter, acrylic nail swiping across the screen of her phone as she mindlessly scrolled on social media. She refused to do what became a habit at this point—but damn, did she want to. 

It’s unfortunate that she did it anyway.

Clicking on the previously searched profile, she goes onto the page to see a new picture had been uploaded. That familiar smile, arm wrapped around a faceless figure, dark hair spilling through his fingers as his hand sat on her lower back.

ALL MINE, it captioned.

Her vision locked along the screen, noticing that her sight began to blur. She hated crying. She felt like her tears weren’t deserved, yet she wanted to release them anyways—she felt weak. 

When the phone suddenly buzzed, her eyes caught sight of a familiar number. She couldn’t keep ignoring calls. Parting out a sigh, she pressed the phone to her ear. 

“Yeah?” 

She tried to sound as normal as possible, wiping her eyes with a quiet sniffle. Allergies were her planned excuse if she was questioned. 

“I know you’re not crying right now.”

That’s exactly how she expected her friend to respond. But she wasn’t going to give the satisfaction of admitting how embarrassed she was. So she replied with, “Allergies.”

A long, exasperated sigh echoed before the feminine voice replied, “You should know by now that I know when you’re lying” 

Ama. 

“You’ve been out of it for weeks—Cooped up in your apartment, calling into work. You’ hiding from that nigga or something?”

She rolls her glossy eyes, deepening herself within the covers as she mutters, “No.”

“You can’t stay in bed forever,” Ama sterns, “How long has it been since you ate? Look—I know you’ over there with that cornfed ass, but that doesn’t mean you can’t eat a lil’ more!”

That actually gets a weak laugh from her. She runs a palm along her cheek as she sighs, “I’m not too hungry, Ama.”

“So you’re really not finna’ come to my momma’s barbecue?”

“You want me to come to your momma’s barbecue all sad and shit? Yeah, no. I’m good on’ that.”

“You know my momma gon’ kill you if you don’t show up. So I suggest you get off your ass, fix your face and—don’t make me grow wings and fly into that window.“

She could hear Ama shuffling in the background, meaning she was on the way. Her friend was entirely serious about dragging her out of bed, and Ama’s mom would kill her for not showing up.

She adjusts her body to sit up against the bed, sighing as she replied, “So you tellin’ me I gotta get cute? Who gon’ be there—Lance Gross? Jalen Hurts?”

Ama sighs, “Unfortunately, no. You’d think Usher was coming with the way my momma set shit up. I think she’s all excited for Onyankopon to be back home.”

Onyankopon. 

That wasn’t a name she heard too often. Ama made it a habit not to mention her brother, as she spent years  behind his shadow, always being known as his sister and nothing more. He was the star of the family. It didn’t help that he was recently signed to New Orleans’ basketball team, and a well known face within the city. She was the only girl that didn’t squeal when Ama mentioned who her sibling was—but it might’ve helped that she also had never met Onyankopon. 

She raises an eyebrow, “Your brothers back in town? I thought the Pelicans had a press run?”

Ama sighs, “Chile, they did. But he told me that they’re having playoffs down here in a couple weeks— he’s been craving to play a game in the boot. I’m sure he also can’t wait to tap some southern ass. Slut.” 

She chuckles, “Don’t act like you ain’t excited to see yo’ brother, Ms. Fraternal Twin.”

“If I wasn’t driving, I would smack you. You’ always tryna use our bond against me. Point is, you better be standing outside your door in the next forty-five minutes or I will get violent.“

“That’s why I’m finna’ get back in bed.”

“Yeah, okay. Do that and see what happens.”

“Bye, Ama.”

“Bye!”

If one thing Ama was right about, she did need to get out of bed. The time rushed by as Ama yapped while she got dressed, talking all the way up until they made it back to her mom’s place. It was exactly how a family cookout would look—two story house, a baby blue color painted along the wooden roof and walls. The smell of hot dogs, burgers and fries wafted in her nose as she squinted from the sunlight, standing next to the bucket of drinks as she waited for it to be refilled with bottles of water. The longer she went without eating, her stomach growled. 

Seeing her friend's family was different from her own—playing card games, from old jams to bounce remixes, to routined line dances—the energy was enjoyable, and she didn’t have the urge to check her phone again. She felt at ease. 

“You still ain’t finna’ eat?” Ama questions, holding a plate up to her face as she stood beside her friend, nose deep into a plate of jambalaya.

She shakes her head, “I need water. It’s hot as hell,” she huffs, fanning a hand above her face. 

“You’ so dramatic—“ Ama starts, halting as she follows the sound of tires screeching in front of the house, “—Oh, there he go’ with the water.” 

Their eyes follow to the blacked out H2 Hummer, large wheels rumbling the ground as it leans atop of the curb. Two bodies step out of the car, her eyes familiar with one of Ama’s cousins, Shaun—but seeing her brother was a different story. 

Neatly braided cornows to the back of his head was the first thing she noticed, his lineup as sharp as his jaw. Brown skin shined under the sun like iridescent honey, tattoos cascading across his muscular frame, all the way up to his cheekbones. Love was written in cursive above his eyebrow, full lips a dark pink beneath his goatee and facial hair. Rings cladded along his thick fingers, muscles flexing beneath the fitted white tee he wore with navy blue basketball shorts. 74 glittered around his neck, his number meaningful in every room he walked in—he was fine. 

“Took you long enough,” Ama rolled her eyes, “Everybody finna’ die of dehydration!”

He’s already walking towards the cooler, effortlessly dropping bottles into the ice water. A slight smirk curls from his lips as he replied, “You’ aight. Me and Shaun’ was tryna’ roll up before we got back, you know momma don’t play that shit.” 

His voice was deep, yet smooth—velvet almost.

“You ain’t supposed to be smoking anyways!” Ama reminds, “You’ got playoffs in a couple of weeks—they don’t drug test y’all?”

“Yeah,” He starts, plopping a few more bottles into the ice, “I got the next two weeks to do that, you act like I won’t be straight by then.”

He glances beside Ama, raising an eyebrow as he questions, “You don’t speak or sum’?”

She blinks in reply, realizing the question was for her. Her eyes travel down to the cooler before she points to herself—“Me?” 

“Nah, the nigga standin’ by the tree—Yeah, you.”

His sister then scoffs, “She’s just not used to seeing big ass niggas like you.”

“Bro—stop talkin’ to me,” He warns. His glare stays in Ama’s direction before softening his gaze back onto her friend, “You got a name, you?” 

“Nuh-Uh! Nope. She don’t! Don’t be tryna’ push up on my friend. You got bitches all over New Orleans for that,” Ama interrupts.

She scolds in reply, “Ama—lawd, I’m good. Chill.”

She then scans him up and down, noticing how big he was in comparison to her. She’d only seen him on TV, and only ever heard the amount of shit his sister talked about him. She honestly didn’t think she’d ever meet him, and maybe that’s why she suddenly felt so insecure. 

But if only she could see herself.

Her bistre skin was like chocolate melting beneath the sun, midnight black hair slicked back into a low bun out of her face—edges styled along her forehead in perfection, small flyaways curled along the back of her neck. Feline eyes tilted above her full lips and freckles he could only notice as he observed her. But the star of the show was her eyes—a deep cobalt, giving her an almost villainous look. But nothing was more pure than her angelic face. 

She gives a small wave, wanting to smack herself at the childish gesture as she softly introduces, “I’m Blue.”

Her voice was quiet, but sweet.

“Blue. I like that.” 

Ama interrupts the moment, “Don’t be complimenting her, my friend know’ she's bad!” 

The way her name rolled off his tongue made a chill run through her spine—she had to pull it together. 

Onyankopon steps closer to the cooler, his eyes flickering back to hers as he questions,”You don’t drink?”

“Hm?” Blue raises an eyebrow, “Oh— No, I don’t. It’s easier to drink water. I mean, you should always drink water— If you’re dehydrated, of course. but if you’re hydrated you should be fine—“

She stops herself, realizing that she’s rambling. 

Blue clears her throat, playing with a curl along the side of her face as she blows out a flushed smile, “…Yeah.” 

God—she wanted to dig herself into the nearest hole.

Blue adjusts herself a bit, now feeling entirely naked under the snug white tee she wears, showing off her midriff and heart shaped nipple piercings, denim washed jeans that clung to the harsh curve of her ass, orchid sandals along her French tipped toes. She was pretty.

“Oh hell,” Ama groans, “I thought you said you wasn’t’ a fan?” 

“I’m not—“

Ama shakes her head, “Anyways, Blue’s an athletic trainer—she be around you niggas all the time. So I don’t know why she even actin’ like this. You’ making my friend uncomfortable, Onyankopon!”

Her rambling was cute—refreshing, to say the least. He lets out a small chuckle, finding it a bit endearing as her brown cheeks went warm. 

“Oh? You’ an athletic trainer?” 

“I just work with college students,” Blue shakes her head, “I’m still working on my masters to move into professional athletes.” 

“She used to play ball too,” Ama adds, “Better than yo’ ugly ass.”

He subtly flexes his jaw in annoyance of his sister, but the mention of her playing ball piqued his interest. 

“What position?”

“Um—point guard. Like you,” she clears her throat, “It was back before I graduated,” she ends with a weak smile.

He raises an eyebrow, his fingers itching towards the silver piece around his neck. 

“Why you’ all shy about it? Don’t be, I like that shit. You was nice onna’ court?” 

It seems like the conversation becomes more intimate. As Ama gets distracted with her cousin that walks up, Onyankopon leans closer—Blue has to tilt her head up to get a good angle of him. 

His body smells of a cocoa musk, and the scent clings along her senses, almost trying to coax her in. She was never this silent with anyone, her chest feeling heavier by the second. 

Blue then replies, “Are you?” 

His teeth flash a bit with the question. Her words were just a slight jab, but he appreciated it. 

“I’m him, ain’t I?” 

His fingers finally make their way to his necklace, pulling the silver up a bit, the numbers glistening in the sun as it reflected into her eyes. 

“You tryna’ front like you ain’t never seen my games?”

“Ain’t nobody tryna’ front,” she confirms, “I watch more of the WNBA—you niggas get whatever y’all want even if you play around on the court.”

He shakes his head, a faint grin stretching from ear to ear, “You’ cute. You know that?”

His compliment makes her go stiff. Her lips part open a bit, but she doesn’t speak, unable to find any words to say back.

“You ain’t watching the right niggas,” He smacks his lips, “So what—a nigga gotta’ play for yo’ heart or sum’?”

Don’t get her wrong—Blue enjoyed a little flirting. But just in that millisecond, her mind trails back to someone else charming her with just their words, and that’s how she ended up with her first heartbreak. 

She shakes her head, “I heard you got plenty to choose from—you should be fine getting benched by me.”

He narrows his lids, noticing that her expression grew more distant. There was a shift. An airy chuckle escapes his throat, glancing down at her with low eyes.

“You’ cold as hell. That’s cool.”

“I know it is. Can you back up off me now, 74?” she raises an eyebrow, azul vision flickering along his face.

He takes a second, staring at her facial features to memorize them. She was interesting to say the least. 

Finally, he steps back, “My fault, Mama.”

Ama interrupts at the perfect time as she calls, “Yo’! Momma wants you to come carry the other grill outside, Ony!—And I told you leave my damn friend alone—fifty feet, nigga!”

“Damn—Fifty feet is crazy,” Onyankopon chuckles, glancing down at Blue, “We was’ just talkin’, huh?”

Blue tilts her head a bit, trying to push down the smile that wants to grow on her face as she replies, “…Mhm.”

“I’m finna’ start counting!”  Ama threatens, her hands now on her hips.

“You gotta’ calm down,” Onyankopon groans to his sister, looking back once more, “Let me know when you tryna’ have me as yo’ point guard, Blue.”  

Before she could respond, he was already walking away. She’s able to see his full frame—the muscles in his back flexing within his arms, leaving Blue just how she introduced herself—Quiet.

She tries to distract herself for the next hour. Her eyes glanced over to Onyankopon every few seconds, noticing something new about him each time. The open faced grills within his mouth, the stud within his nose, the lyrics and verses along his neck and arms. Fuck. 

Her eyes couldn’t help but trail back to her screen, absentmindedly clicking onto social media. That was until her phone was snatched from her fingers.

“Ama!” 

“I’m saving your mental, girl,” Ama replies, holding the phone up to her face as she types, “Don’t make me delete Instagram.” 

Blue sighs, “You know that nigga is in a new relationship already?”

Ama sighs, tapping on the picture of him with a nameless figure wrapped around his arm. 

“He never had loyalty, you know that. Stop fuckin’ with these ball players and find you a lawyer or some shit.” 

Blue felt stupid. To have fallen for someone she knew had the reputation of careless acts—what else did she expect? But he made her feel like she was important. That she was different.

“I’d rather be by myself. A lawyer might lie even better than a ball player,” Blue murmurs, digging her fork into the piece of cake she’d had her attention on, Ama finalizing her words as she agreed, “That part.”

Everyone watches as the younger men make their way towards the basketball court within the driveway, Blue’s attention pulling back to that damn smile as Onyankopon’s silhouette moves past her. 

He questions, “We finna’ hoop. You gon’ watch yo’ man?”

“Who?” She scrunches her nose.

“You heard me, girl. Quit playin’.”

Blue turns to Ama, “Why yo’ brother won’t get off me? Didn’t you say he got bitches to choose from?”

Ama shrugs, “He tryna’ be cute, and you blushing—I’m mindin’ my business.” 

She then stands from the table, a mischievous smile across her face, “I gotta make sure my uncle doesn't break his hip on this court. You comin’?”

“Watchin’ yo’ uncle possibly fall and break all his ligaments? Lemme’ grab my cake,” Blue chuckles, standing with her food as she follows behind. 

Everyone crowds around the court as the family game begins, but it’s unfortunate that Blue can’t stop watching Onyankopon—especially when he keeps howling each time he makes a shot. 

This was her first time seeing him on the court, and to say that he played how he looked on TV was an understatement. To her dismay, he had bragging rights. The way he easily dodged and maneuvered around the court, his height gave him a slight advantage as he easily made shots to the rim. 

“You see me? You like that?” he calls, his attractive face more threatening each time he calls out to her, “You gon’ have a seat right up in the boxes watchin’ me!” 

Ama replies back, “She don’t’ see shit but yo’ hoe ass bullying your family on the court. Stop playing like this a championship, stupid!”

Onyankopon smacks his lips at his sister, catching the ball before dribbling up the court again. But the person he was up against this time, was not as easy—the cousin he always played with, who was just as good as him. He had quick reflexes, almost magic as he stole the ball out of Onyankopon’s palms, making his way towards the rim, dunking the ball against it. 

“Oh—we playin’ forreal? Aight.” 

They’re still playful with one another along the court, but that didn’t make the game any less serious. Both men were good at stealing the ball from each other. The family watched in entertainment, yelling and calling out moves as if it were a real game. Blue couldn’t help the small laugh she released. Damn, he was good.

 Everything was going well—until it wasn’t. Onyankopon’s cousin shifted his body a little too quickly into him, harshly knocking his shoulder to where he tripped over his own legs, crashing into the ground before he could catch himself. Everyone knew something was wrong the moment he grabbed his knee, a pained look against his face.

It’s as if Blue sobered up in that moment, her eyes widening slightly as his cousin bent down in front of him with panic, “Yo—Ony, you good? Shit—I’m sorry.”

“Fuck—” Onyankopon groans, clenching his jaw as he attempts to sit up. He wanted to hide the immense burn he felt rushing through his entire leg, but he was in pain— His knee was locked. 

The entire court was immobile. It’s as if no one wanted to panic, but panic all at the same time. A single voice called over the silence as Ama exclaimed, “Blue!”, rushing around the court towards her brother.

Blue was right behind her, dropping herself towards the ground as she immediately reached for his knee. He jerked at the touch as she softly whispered, “I’m sorry,” keeping her palms in place, even as he tried to push her away.

“You have to tell me what hurts, Onyankopon.”

“It’s—” He starts, hissing between his teeth as she kept her hand on the swollen part of his leg, “—Fuck, it’s my entire leg. From the top, to the ankle.” 

Everyone around them grew nervous. She could hear the worry in Ama’s voice, and she could see tears forming in her eyes as she called for her father.

Blue didn’t need anyone to freak out. She turns towards her friend, “Ama—go inside with Shaun and grab an ice pack, okay?”

If Ama’s panic wasn’t helping the situation, a shriek coming from the front of the house makes it all

the more worse—Onyankopon’s mother tosses the pan of meatballs within her hands, nearly falling down the stairs as she rushes over to the court, “Oh my goodness, my baby! Oh lawd—What happened?—Who hurt my baby?!”

“I did something stupid, Ma’! Quit fussin’. Lawd, I’m fine,” He manages to groan out. 

His body was sweating, the veins in his neck going rigid as he fought to keep his composure—each time Blue’s palm slid across his skin, he wanted to scream.

Blue places his arm on her shoulder, huffing as she lifts herself and his weight along her body. She manages to say at the same time, “Just lean on me, okay? Don’t put any weight on it.”

Onyankopon could hear the slight wheeze in Blue’s breath as his mother started to yell, “Get him on the bench! Where’s the ice pack—Where’s Ama?!” 

“I can try to walk, Blue—ion’ need you hurting yourself tryna’ help me.”

“What happened to all that flirting you was’ doing earlier—You don’t wanna be close to me no’ more?” She questions, distracting him as she takes another step towards the house.

A painful chuckle pushes from his lips. He had been trying to show off—and look where that got him. It was almost pathetic. 

“Your name really Blue, forreal’?” 

Her lashes flick up to him, the sunlight cascading within the ocean of her pupils. She then raises an eyebrow, “You’ really injured yourself tryna’ impress a girl?”

It wasn’t supposed to happen—but it did. Onyankopon blushes, the warmth across his face growing with embarrassment as she calls him out. 

Finally, he answers, “Yeah, aight. You got it.”

When they finally get him inside, the previous outburst of Onyankopon’s mother turns into an all out tantrum, up to the point where she kicks everyone out. Throughout the chaos, all Onyankopon could think about was the softness of Blue’s hand in his—the way each time he looked back at her, she squeezed his fingers, giving a soft smile. He thought about her as she sat across from him, and even at the hospital when she’d already left. 

Why couldn’t he get this girl off his mind?

Standing in front of his condo the next day wasn’t in Blue’s original plans. When Ama told her that his condition wasn’t looking too good, regardless of how overly flirtatious he was—she felt bad. And being the empath she unfortunately was, she was now standing in front of his door, bifold glass seeing right into the tinted foyer of his home as she stepped in. 

Sleek black interior accompanied paintings hung above the minimalist styled furniture. Her curiosity came to a halt as she heard a couple of voices at the end of the hall, making her way to where they followed, but slowing down when she heard the conversation. 

Onyankopon sat along the bench of his indoor gym, frown locked down to his knee wrapped in gauze as the doctor continued to speak to him.

“It seems you’ve torn your PCL.”

“And what does that injury intel?” His father questions, “Is that the same as tearing your ACL?”

“Not as severe, but still just as bad. With rest and rehabilitation, you could be back playing within the next  two months.” 

Two months?

His father shakes his head, “Hollon’—He has playoffs in four weeks. He just signed a contract with the Pelicans, he can’t miss that. Two months isn’t plausible—Is there any way we can speed up the process?”

“Pops.” 

Onyankopon’s voice is a warning, already frustrated with the news he receives. His father wasn’t helping that. 

The doctor sighs, “Well, it’s not that easy. Onyankopon would need extensive physical therapy if he wants to be ready for the playoffs. If he doesn’t take the right precautions, he could risk tearing his ACL, and he’ll have to sit out for a lot longer—or in the worst case, have a career ending injury. If he listens—” 

His father cuts him off. 

“I’ll get him in the best goddamn rehab in Louisiana—We’ll make it work.”

That’s when they all hear a phone ringing. Blue curses, immediately cutting off the sound as she looks down to her screen. She blows out a breath as she peeks to the other side of the wall, seeing all three men looking over at her.

“Sorry,” she softly greets, “I um—was just bringing Ony something—I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“You can come in. It’s aight,” He tells her, his gaze flickering over her form.

She notices a scowl along his face, seemingly irritated from this conversation. She couldn’t help but take account of his shirtless appearance, eyes wavering over the strength he holds in the broad frame of his back, muscles structured beneath his intricate tattoos. 

The doctor looks away from his father, looking back to Onyankopon as he questions, “Do you want to take that risk?”

His jaw flexes at the question. He didn’t want to ruin his career by possibly hurting himself more, but he also had a family to be successful for. He didn’t have a choice. 

“I’ll be ready by’ playoffs.”

The doctor sighs, unable to argue with his decision. He then says, “We’ll find the best athletic trainer for you. But if you feel your knee worsening—you’ll have to consider sitting out.”

That’s when Onyankopon catches sight of Blue again. She looks as if she’d just come from the gym— indigo baby tee and yoga pants hugging her curvy figure. Square glasses tip on her freckles nose, curls out her face from a matching headband. 

That’s when he says, “I want her.” 

Her eyebrows raise. Blue frowns, “What?”

Onyankopon looks at his father as he continues, “She used to hoop back in college. Now she works with athletes— I need to play shit safe and get someone good.”

Blue’s frown deepens, “Onyankopon—I can’t accept that. I’ve only worked with college athletes—I don’t even have my masters!—“

“I trust you.”  

His voice holds no hesitation, his piercing gaze meeting her eyes as he promises, “I will do what I have to do. But I want you to be the one to get me there—can you do that?” 

He can see the hesitance along her face, the baby pink box she holds tightening under her fingers. 

Onyankopon looks towards his father as he dismisses, “Lemme’ talk to her, Pops.”

Both men exit, their footsteps growing quiet as they leave them in silence, Blue’s face nowhere near convinced on this idea. But instead of him immediately reeling back the conversation, he scoots off the bench as he questions, “What you’ got me?”

She looks down to the box, now feeling a little childish. 

 “Oh—um—I knew you were upset with everything that happened yesterday, so—I got you a lil’ cupcake at this bakery by my house. They put a basketball on it?” 

She lifts the box towards him, “I just…wanted to make you feel better,” she nervously giggles, lifting the desert towards him.

A grin slowly curls onto his full lips. He chuckles for a second, “You only being nice to a nigga ‘cause he hurt—that’s cold,” He shakes his head, standing to his feet, the muscles in his arms flexing with each motion. 

She notices that as he makes his way over to her, Onyankopon places his weight on one leg, limping on the other. He takes the box from her fingers, his hand grazing Blue’s in the exchange, catching the softness of her palm again. Warm. That usual blush appears along her face as he opens the box, staring down at the small cupcake topped with a basketball.

“You should be using your crutches,” she looks behind him, seeing as they lean along the bench.

“C’mon, Mama. I ain’t even hired you yet and you trippin’—quit all that,” he smacks his lips, “I’m tryna’ have you feed me.”

She looks around, “Feed who? The grown man standing across from me?”

“Lawd, here you go with that attitude. I liked when you was playin’ soft,” He murmurs, breaking the cupcake in half, reaching a piece out to her. 

She looks down at his hand, sighing as she reluctantly takes the other half from him. Her lashes flutter as she blinks, “You’ serious about this? Me getting you ready for ‘playoffs?”

“Yeah.” 

This close, Blue can smell his cologne again—the mixture of spice and cocoa. His cologne combined with his natural musk was intoxicating. He notices how she swallowed her nervousness, his lip tipping upwards for a moment before he asks, “I make you nervous or sum?’”

“Save that for your groupies,” she dismisses, “I’m not here to fuck around with you, Ony. You’re not gonna blame me for making your injury worse, meaning you need to be serious about wanting to be back on the court by playoffs.”

He hums at that, “I like when you tryna’ be all professional. It’s cute. What you’ need me to do? Beg? Get on my knees?”

“The knee you don’t have?” She fires back, “Yeah—aight. I’m gone,” she grabs for her bag, “You’re not taking this shit seriously.”

“Blue,” He calls, letting out a long sigh as she begins making her way out, “C’mon, girl. What I’ need to do?”

“Call your father and have him find you a rehab center.”

She disappears behind the wall—but the front door shutting is what really signifies that the conversation had ended. 

“Blue—Yo!” 

She was gone. 

He groans, sucking his teeth as he grabs one of the crutches in the corner. This was gonna be a long four weeks.

                                      𝓐ᥫ᭡

THE SUNLIGHT WAS PEACEFUL AS SHE SAT ON THE BLEACHERS. Blue was finishing off another week in her work schedule, ending a therapy session with one of her students who was now scattering across the court at practice with the rest of his team. Multiple men passed the ball, talked shit to each other, pushing and shoving along the court as they played an unserious game. Seeing the smile along their faces made her realize how important this sport was to someone like them—how important it was to her. 

Her phone buzzes. Ama, as she expected. Blue sighs, pressing the phone to her ear as she greets, “I hope you ain’t calling to cuss me out ‘cause I didn’t take the job your brother offered.” 

“I come in peace, promise. I know his big headed ass is hard to deal with,” her friend chuckles, “Are you at work?”

“Yeah. Just finished a session with one of my ball players. He’s doing really good— ecstatic to be back on the court,” a small smile comes to her face. She can’t help but ask, “How’s Ony doing?”

“He’s…okay? Off the crutches, been doing a lot of PT, even shuffled around the court this morning.”

“But?” 

Blue could hear the uncertainty in her friend's voice, hearing a sigh come through the phone as Ama continues, “But—he’s not himself. Kinda hurts to see my twin moping around, y’know? Look, don’t get mad but…he really needs you, Blue.”

She sighed, “Don’t start, Ama.”

“I’m being serious!,” She exclaims, “I don’t know how, but…Blue—He’s different since you’ve been around. After you left his house, the nigga started PT that same day! I ain’t never seen him be so on top of something since his Nike had a sale,” She takes a breath, “Please? It’s just for the playoffs. Just three more weeks and then you’re done. My twin is all sad, and if he’s sad, I’m sad, and you don’t want me to be sad, right? ‘Cause you love me. Exactly.”

Blue rolls her eyes, giving a soft laugh in response. She’d never heard Ama be so adamant when it came to Onyankopon, meaning she was entirely serious. She hoped that their last interaction put a fire under his ass, and gave him the encouragement to get himself together in time for his next game. Being there for him wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

She finalizes, “I’ll go back over there tomorrow.” 

And she did. Blue was up early the next morning, already pushing her way into the glass panel of his front door, two machas within a cup holder as she quietly entered the condo. It was more peaceful in the morning, the sunlight tilting into the windows—but she was distracted by the sound of a bear growling.

It in fact wasn’t a bear, but Onyankopon passed out along the sofa as he slept. Blue thought Ama was exaggerating when she said that her brother was in a funk—but when she saw the open box of pizza beside his head, his pillows fallen all over the ground, and his body wrapped up in a hoodie—she might’ve been right. 

Blue glanced over to the TV that played cartoons, looking back down to him as she called, “Onyankopon.”

Nothing.

His snores nearly bounced off the walls, rumbling the bottom of her feet as if he were an animal. She rolled her eyes, leaning down as she shoved his shoulder, “Onyankopon.” 

Still nothing. 

Okay. She sat the matcha down, going into the kitchen as her eyes searched around his cabinets. Retrieving a bowl, she went over to his fridge as she filled it with cold water, adding ice within the mixture before making her way back into the living room. And without another thought—she tossed the contents on top of him.

“Nigga—” 

His voice sounded like a low growl, his large body jolting as he felt the water on his skin. He blinked the moisture from his eyes, slowly becoming conscious as the room came into focus, “The fuck?!”

“Get up,” she demands, raising the bowl as if she were going to toss it, “You better—“

“Don’t you see me up?!”

“No! I see a nigga hibernating on the couch!”

“I was asleep!”

He grunts, shifting himself to sit up before the coldness settles onto his chest. His brows furrow, glaring at the bowl in her hand before he stood. 

“You better back yo’ ass up before I come over there.”

“That’s if you could limp over here in time!” 

She raises the bowl again, Onyankopon flinching as he says, “Aight! Damn. I’m up, I’m up.” 

“You up?” she questions, bucking the bowl one more time.

"Blue—" 

He groans, "Get yo' lil' ass out the way with that bowl, forreal. 'Cause if I get over there, imma’ have you runnin.’ Swear to god.” 

Blue narrows her eyes, taking a step back as she lowers her hand. She then smiles, “Meet me in the gym after you shower—and drink your matcha!” She calls, disappearing into the hallway. 

“This girl here, man.” 

After Onyankopon cleans the living room, he quickly takes a shower, making his way towards the gym—music is already humming along the room, catching sight of Blue who stands in the middle of his miniature court. The architecture was a matte black, matching equipment with silver linings all across the floor. His eyes lower to Blue’s ass as she stretches, too distracted to hear him entering. 

“You know what you’ doing, Ms. Trainer?” 

She turns her head, looking across the entrance as she sees Onyankopon, Nike long sleeve hugging his muscles, his team's sweatpants matching the navy blue top he wears.  

She pulls her eyes away from how big he was, reaching for a ball along the wall as she says, “C’mon.”

“C’mon, what?”

“We finna’ hoop.” 

He doesn’t budge from his spot, raising an eyebrow.

“You think I’m joking?” 

Blue locks her fingers at the edge of her sweatshirt, pulling the oversized material off her body and tossing it on the ground. She begins to clip her hair up in her orchid comb, “They’ told me you’re off the crutches— I wanna see how comfortable you are on the court.”

A smirk curves along his lips when she removes her shirt—the baby pink workout set she wore hugs her body perfectly. 

“Yo’ mama know you got that ass?”

The moment he comes closer, she’s quick. She opens her palms, tossing the ball towards him with a tilt to her head, “Quit distracting. Show me why they made you’ point guard.” 

Blue takes a step back, squatting herself down a bit. Her eyes watch as he steps forward, but she catches the light limp he does as he begins dribbling. 

She points out, “You’ll have to put your weight on it eventually.”

“You gotta’ let a nigga warm up.”

He’s making his way towards the rim—but he was slower—he couldn’t use his speed to his advantage like he usually did. 

The moment she’s close to him, Blue snatches the ball from his hands, hugging the object within her fingers. Onyankopon backs up. 

She raises an eyebrow, “What are you doing?—I know you ain’t scared to hoop.” 

He scoffs, “Nah, it’s just—you got that pretty face. Ion’ wanna’ bump you.”

“I play with niggas all the time,” she re-ties her hair, “C’mon. Play like you forreal’, pussy.”

It was like a switch went off in his body at the insult. Onyankopon gave her a warning, “Watch yo’ mouth, Blue.” 

“Come take the ball from me then.”

“I heard you’ the first time.”

He was more focused this time around, hand swiping the ball from her fingers before she could blink. Blue let out a grunt as he easily moved around her, and that’s when he shoved her body to the side— Blue stumbling back, watching as he took long strides towards the basket—But before he could even attempt his shot, her hand interfered, breathlessly swatting the ball out his hand and taking it into her own.

“I thought we was’ playing forreal’?” He retorts.

As Blue begins sprinting, Onyankopon catches the back of her sweatpants, yanking her back as he grunts, “Where you goin’?”

Blue shrieks, dropping the ball as she smacks his hand away, “That’s a foul, dipshit!” 

“You on my basketball court,” He replies, lifting his hand to snatch the ball before it touches the ground, “Foul my ass. I thought you wanted to see some real effort?” 

He grips her forearm as he pulls her back beside him, turning her body as he places the ball within her palm, “Show me that college ball player shit. You’ wastin’ my time.”

“Oh?” She glares, “Okay—Guard me from shooting then.”

“Ion’ need to guard you,” He steps to the side, leaving the rim wide open, “Shoot. Gon’ head.” 

And as soon as she did, he was quick in interfering with her motion, his long arm palming the basketball. She let out a small huff in defeat—but she could be faster. Blue manages to retrieve the ball in time and the moment she turns, her body slams into his. 

His towering frame blocked her pathway to the rim as she tried to move in another direction, but her hands couldn't catch the ball—Onyankopon now had it back within his grasp. They both give each other a breathless laugh, and despite this moment being important—they were having fun. 

As Onyankopon goes to take another step, he stops, sucking in a breath as he places a hand along his knee. A sharp pain shoots through his entire leg. 

Blue immediately pauses, “You okay?”

At first, he wanted to deny, ignore the pain—but it was evident along his face. His voice lowers, “I’m good—I, damn—“

He’s unable to finish his sentence, gritting his teeth as he tries to move towards the bench—but he’s unable to. After another moment, Blue’s shoulder presses under his arm as she murmurs, “Lean on me, alright? We’re both done playing.”

“I’m good,” he brushes off, “I’m tryna’ do some training.”

She kept him leaning against her, even if he was trying to move away. Blue questions, “You sure? We can just play it safe—do a couple stretches, Ony.”

His head tilts down at her, his hand gripping the curve of her shoulder as he answers, “Play it safe for what? I was just runnin’ around with you on the court—I gotta’ be back up in three weeks, Blue. I can’t do safe,” his voice is harsh, “I’m good.”

Blue pulls away from him as she relents, “Okay.”

After a while, they began moving into a couple of exercises—one of them being where Onyankopon had to lay along a yoga mat as he raised his knee a couple inches off the ground, attempting to reach Blue’s finger tips. While that might’ve sounded easy, he was huffing through the tightness within his leg, trying to shove down the uncomfortable position. 

Blue’s touch might’ve been a helpful factor to each movement. Her warm palms gripped along his ankle, guiding him in the correct angle. 

“Three more,” she promises, “Just gimme’ those, and we’ll move on.”

Onyankopon is quiet during their session, his grunts sounding with each new exercise they’d done. It wasn’t until he was on his feet, doing a movement that called for a slow squat where his groans began.

At the same time, Blue stands across from him as she makes sure his form is correct. She had to stop him a couple times to show the proper stance, squatting herself down for demonstration. She could feel his eyes.

“You’ good at doing that.“

Blue’s sighs, “Focus, please. Let’s try this again—I’ll do it with you.”

There was one thing that Onyankopon hadn’t mentioned in this entire process. In between each set, Blue would glance at her phone. She wasn’t distracted to a point that interfered with her work, but her attention was …diverted. 

It wasn’t until he was doing his final exercise that he said something. He sat upright along the floor as a towel wrapped around the base of his foot, both palms grasping the ends of the material as he slowly pulled his leg back and forth. 

Blue’s gaze wavers against the screen of her phone, her attention being pulled away as she hears him say, “Who’s the nigga you over there so worried about?”

Her brows furrow at the question. She places her phone down, raising her palm over his, “You’re supposed to be pulling with your hands, your leg shouldn’t be doing the work.” 

She then decides to respond, “Who said I was worried about a nigga?”

“You just seem distracted.”

He continues the movement, following her instructions as he grunts, “He must’ve done somethin’ to get all that attention I’m not gettin’. What if my knee shatters right now?”

“Ony,” she flinches, “Don’t say that. I’m sorry, okay? No more phone.”

“I didn’t say to blow off my question.”

Blue blinks at him, annoyed with his pressing. She then says, “You wanna hear that I’m stalking my ex and his new bitch?”

“There we go,” He answers, his leg returning down towards the floor as he begins the set again, “That’s what you should’ve been said.” 

He looks up as he questions, “Why is he yo’ ex?”

She doesn’t expect him to be curious. Blue waits a couple moments, not entirely comfortable as she flatly says, “He played ball like you, was better at playing me.” 

“I’m sure it’s more than that,” his brow quirks, “Keep talkin’. I’m tryna’ hear your mouth run.”

“And why do you care?” She adjusts the towel under his foot, “None of that matters. He’s in a relationship, and I can’t be mad at that.”

“But you’ mad cause he fucked you over.”

“Did I say all that or were you just listening too hard?”

“You don’t have to,” He counters, raising his leg back down for one final set, “I already know.”

His brows knit together as he grunts, his body tensing as he forces his knee back. 

Once he’s done, he continues, “And what you talkin’ bout? He could be the President, don’t matter—the fact you can’t get over it tells me he must’ve hurt you.”

“People get hurt all the time, Onyankopon,” Blue reminds him, “I’m a big girl, I survived. I just—need to get over the situation like he did.”

“And how you gon’ do that?” he questions, sitting back up straight, his hand throwing the towel beside him. 

He was looking at her. Studying the way each curl fell along her face, “By being on your phone at every break? Don’t sound like you’ tryna’ get over it to me.”

“Do I tell you how to handle the relationship aspect of your life?” She squints, “You and your groupies have a very close bond—I’m sure. Ain’t nobody tryna’ sit there and tell you how to stop fuckin’ around on multiple bitches.”

“Whoa,” He raises both palms, a soft chuckle coming from his lips as he says, “Aight, aight. Sensitive topic, I see.” 

There’s a moment of silence as he stares down at his fingers, “My groupies ain’t the problem. Can’t compare that to your cheating ass nigga.”

“I think sometimes you just like to hear yourself talk,” Blue mutters, “Get in the crocodile stretch so I can massage your knee, please.”

“I like hearing you talk more.” 

He scoots down along the floor, using his hands to slowly roll himself onto his chest. He grunts as he continues, reaching his arms above his head and hiding his face within both of them.

Onyankopon’s jaw tenses, his brows pinching together. But soon enough, a small sigh leaves his lips as he feels her fingers run along his knee. She takes her thumb as she digs it into the muscle, deeply knotting her bone into a specific spot on his leg. 

Blue then admits, “…I didn’t mean to snap on you. I just—hate that I’m not over the situation. That’s all.”

Her touch was so gentle.

He let out a grunt of relief, lifting his head off his forearms to look back to her. His eyes narrow, a soft chuckle leaving his lips as he murmurs, “You gettin’ soft on me, Mama.”

She rolls her eyes, “Are you listening, or is this you just wanting to hear my voice again?”

“Both. Yo’ voice pretty as fuck.”

He sees the glimmer of freckles on her umber complexion, watching the way she nibbles along her lower lip, lowering her lashes. Shy. That’s the word he could think of. 

“Are you ever gonna keep it professional with me?” She questions, glancing up to the TV that plays along the wall from across, the smallest smile along her face.

“Don’t wanna’. I can’t lie to you.”

He then catches her smile, and that’s when he says, “See. You know what it is.” 

His tone lowers as he questions, “Why you gotta’ be so scared of a nigga trying to get to know you?” 

“You beggin’ me now?” she raises an eyebrow, pulling herself back from his leg.

“Damn.” 

He rolls over on his back, sitting up straight as he reaches for the towel beside him, wiping the sweat from his chest as he concludes, “Can’t do nothin’. You’ cold again.”

When she glances back up to the TV, she slows her movements as she sees a familiar face—his to be exact, different cuts from Onyankopon’s seasonal journey. He’s rushing across the court at one of his games, smiling ear to ear as he’s being interviewed.

”The star player was just signed to the Pelicans two months ago, and is already facing a career-threatening injury. Will he power through back in time for playoffs?

“I certainly hope so. Otherwise, he’ll be forgotten like anyone else just starting up.”

“Can you turn that off?” 

His voice was stern, a glare on the screen as highlights continued playing. Every layup, every block, every dunk—it was a reel of everything he couldn’t do right now.

She reached for the remote as she shut it off, standing from the position she was in, “Earlier when we played—I could tell you were scared to move around the court. You can’t be afraid to do that.”

“Ain’t nobody scared.”

She crosses her arms at that, seeing that he’s growing irritated at her words. 

“You can be mad. That’s fine.”

“Why you tryna’ make me mad?” 

The frustration was evident in his tone, his eyes narrowing as he continued, “You think you got a nigga figured out when you just met me a week ago.”

“This coming from the same nigga that said he trusted me a day after meeting?” she reminds, “I’m not here to make you feel worse. I’m here because I know how you feel— Nobody is gonna believe in you if you don’t believe in you.”

And that made his expression falter. 

He couldn’t speak. Onyankopon stares for a few moments until he lets out a heavy breath, his head shaking as he says, “I’m just mad.”

“I know that.”

Blue scans his face, seeing an uncomfortable sense within it. She then says, “Your progress is better than any patient I’ve had. You love the court, I can see that. You’ll be there by the playoffs.”

He stays silent at that, her words filling his head before he murmurs, “Yeah— Thank you.”

“You also need some milk,” she adds on, “Your bones feel brittle as hell.”

He lets out a low chuckle, staring down at her hands. His large palms could cover both of them. He then pushes back the vulnerable side that wants to come out, “You’ hungry?”

“I am,” she sighs, walking over to the court as she pulls her sweatshirt back on, “I was gonna eat once I got home. You did good today— we can start back up tomorrow.”

“Stay and eat, then.” 

She looks back at him, her hand halting along her duffle bag. His smile grows, “Got shit in the kitchen, we just needa’ run to the store for a couple ingredients—I’m more than protein shakes and smoothies.”

“You need rest, Onyankopon. You ain’t finna’ sleep if we’ playing around in the grocery store,” she reminds, placing her duffle over her shoulder.

“C’mon,” He smacks his lips, taking long strides to stand in front of her. His broad shoulders blocked her path to the door, “Tell me you ain’t craving some food-food. What you’ want? Dirty rice, red beans? Let me know sum.’”

Blue looks up at him, the height gap so evident as he finalizes, “You’ll sleep good as fuck after. Promise.”

“This your way of tryna’ get me to stay?” She sighs, “You’ sure you can cook anything without burning the house down?”

He moves towards the double glass of his front doors, “It’s my way of apologizing to you, aight? I was kinda’ a dick head earlier, forreal’—my food’ good as hell, Mama. You gon’ be beggin’ for more.”

“Wrong. I don’t beg.”

They make it to the nearest Whole Foods, Onyankopon protesting as Blue forces him to push the cart, wanting him to have something to put his weight on. She walks slowly as she glances through the aisle, “What you’ in the mood for?”

“You.”

There’s a small smirk along his lips as she glares at him, his tone growing low again as he murmurs, “My bad, my bad. Whatever you want, I’m not trippin’.”

She keeps walking, now ending up towards the produce aisle. She scans the selections, “You’ got enough fruit for your smoothies? I may need to grab some for mine,” she mutters, leaning over as she scans the basket of bananas.

“Are you a banana?” 

She turns her head, frowning at the question, “What?”

Onyankopon leans towards her, “‘Cause I find you real’ a—peel—ling.”

Blue’s entire expression drops, “Oh no—We’ve moved into bad pick up lines. Jesus Christ. Please don’t—“

“Ooh, girl. You must be a strawberry or sum’,” He interrupts, tossing the items within the basket, “‘Cause you’re berry beautiful to me!” 

“Is this my personal hell? I’m walking away from you!”

“Chill! Chill! I have one more—” 

He lets out a laugh as he follows behind her, still leaning against the cart’s edge as he looks over to the section of pineapples. 

“If you were a fruit, you’d be a fine-apple!” 

“How about you make like them’ bananas you was talking about earlier, and split?”

Onyankopon’s mouth drops open, watching as Blue waltz further away from the basket, playfully twisting her hips with each step she takes. 

She turns back to him, “Oh you liked that one, huh? That was good?”

A man walks past the both of them, Onyankopon leaning towards him as he questions, “Nigga—you heard that? How she came back at me with my own puns? You hear them’ wedding bells? Do you?”

She giggles, seeing the man’s frown as she exclaims, “Please ignore him—I’m sorry!”

When they go into the aisle of pastries, a gasp falters Blue’s lips as she speeds around a table full of cupcakes, “You think they have—“

Her eyes search, her face dropping in disappointment, “Ugh—They don’t have them,” a pout almost comes to her lips, deciding to look along the other options of cakes and bread. 

“What you’ lookin’ for, Mama?” 

She sighs, “They usually have these red velvet cupcakes I like. They have frosting on the inside of them!—“

She halts, realizing she’s a little too excited, “Sorry. Yeah, they’re good.”

“Stop apologizin’. They don’t got’ them?”

“No,” she’s now pouting, genuinely disappointed. 

“We can go to every Whole Foods in the city until we find em’. Quit allat’ pouting.”

She rolls her eyes, “You wouldn’t do that.”

“You think I’m playin’?” he questions, eyes narrowing at her, “I’ll take my ass to muhfuckin’ Mississippi if you need me to.”

She hates that her heart flutters. Blue then shakes her head, voice soft, “It’s fine—I’ll go look in another aisle, okay?” 

She goes to the next area of snacks, trying to find a sweet substitute for her cravings. She ends up finding a pack of Oreos, seeing a red velvet flavor at the top of the aisle, unable to reach it due to her height.

“Hell,” she mutters.

“Need help?”

The voice is…familiar. It’s as if her entire body goes cold, and immediately recognizes the tone without him having to say anything else. When her face turns towards him—there he is.

Hazel brown eyes, only made of the devil if she had a comparison. Light brown skin, his dark hair in waves, as handsome as he wanted to be. Fuck, why were evil men so fine?

To make matters worse, that faceless body that was within the picture she constantly stared at now had a face—she was the complete opposite of Blue. Tan skin, close to an olive tone. Her hair was more wavy than curly, a smaller frame, as if she were able to slip in anything and look good. She was perfect. 

“Trey—Uh—hey?”

“Wassup, Blue?”

Something in her body flinched at the sound of him saying her name. 

A smirk grows along his lips as he looks down to the cookies in her hand, “I remember these were your favorite.”

His voice was the same, smooth. 

His eyes linger on the length of her, “How you’ been?”

How have I been? 

She wanted to smack him, get violent. Maybe even smack the woman next to him. 

“I’m good,” she pushes out, “Who’s this?” She looks at the woman, giving her best attempt of a polite smile.

“This is Nia,” he introduces, his arm now circling around the woman as he pulls her close, “My fiancè.” 

Nia smiles, “It’s really nice to meet you, Trey’s told me so much about you!” 

Blue could have cried on the spot. Her face felt entirely warm, and something in her was starting to become extremely upset. 

“It’s uh…nice to meet you too. I hope all good things were said.”

Onyankopon turns down the aisle in search of her, finding Blue interacting with two strangers—but just by the look on her face, he knew exactly who they were. You could say he had a flair for the dramatics. 

“Yo’, baby, you found what you was’ looking for?”

Blue frowns, “Huh?”

He walks up to her, “Why you’ always tryna’ do shit by yoself’ when you know you got me? C’mon,” he reaches up for the sweet treat, tossing it in the basket.

“Who’s this?” 

Trey’s question felt a little sharp. Nia on the other hand, looks entirely starstruck. A blush comes along her fair skin as she swats Trey’s arm, “Honey, this is the new player on the Pelicans—Onyankopon, right?”

Onyankopon nods, his arm now going to mirror Trey’s action of holding his girl by the waist. But instead of going for Blue’s hip, his palm latches onto her ass, squeezing the flesh under his fingers, tugging her closer to his large frame.

“You gon’ introduce me, huh?” Her murmurs, mouth hovering along hers, Blue able to feel the warmth of his breath. 

Her cheeks feel detached from her face. She stutters, “U—Um, this is Onyankopon, my—“

“Her husband,” he finishes, “Baby always being shy on shit. She ‘real adamant on getting our rings cleaned every other week, so she can’t show off that rock that be’ on her finger right now.”

His face is centimeters from hers. Onyankopon’s voice is low as he questions, “You’ got everything you need?”

Blue’s lashes flutter, trying to hold her composure as she nods, “Yeah—“

And then, he kisses her. 

Their lips smush together, a low groan coming from his throat as she lets him taste her. 

Blue tries to pull back, but Onyankopon's hand wraps along the back of her neck, holding her in place as he keeps going. His tongue slides along her own, sinking in and out of her mouth. It sends a jolt all the way between her thighs, Blue lightly panting in a way she didn’t expect herself to. 

When he pulls back, she exhales, pressing her hand against his chest as her face went from warm to entirely hot. Her face pulls back to the couple across from them, both her ex and his fiancè shocked at their affection towards each other. They’re almost bothered at the sight. 

“Um—“ a nervous giggle releases from Blue’s lips, “It was nice seeing you, Trey. We um, we have to go. Yeah?” She turns her face back to Onyankopon.

He presses one last kiss to her lips, a look of irritation on Trey's face he glares daggers.

Blue was officially red, Onyankopon's arm going around her waist as he said, "I’m hungry as hell. Finna’ fuck around and eat you. C’mon."

She politely waved to the couple, tugging at Onyankopon's arm, dragging him around the corner towards the check-out lanes.

That’s when Blue finally released an actual giggle, the sound unfamiliar to Onyankopon as she whispered, “Why did you do that?!”

“To piss him off,” He answers, “And it worked. I hope that nigga’s jaw is clenched as hell right now.” 

He slows down the cart as he then asks, “You aight, though? You look like you seen’ a ghost earlier.”

“I’m okay—I just didn’t expect to see him out of all’ people. Not to mention that he’s engaged,” she places the items atop of the lane, pushing them forward with a soft frown along her face. 

“You thought I was gon’ let that nigga just embarrass you? Fuck allat.’”

“Why did you go as far as to say we were married?”

Onyankopon shrugs, “Manifestation?”

And once again, Blue laughs.

Two weeks had gone by. Intense Physical therapy, exercising, and training was the only thing filling Onyankopon’s schedule. His family was shocked to hear how miraculous his recovery was—and he had no one to thank except Blue.

It was now the night before playoffs, Blue coming over to drop off the new knee brace she’d bought for him. She closes the door behind herself softly as he’d told her that he’d be going to bed early, trying to tip toe towards his gym. But when she sees the kitchen lights on—she halts.

She looks along the marble counter, seeing different ingredients from flour, sugar, eggs, butter, and oil. A frown came along her face at the cupcake pans next to the supplies.

She slowly walks forward as she questions, “Ony?” 

A figure appears from the bathroom. Her mouth immediately parts open, a palm going over her lips as she sees him shirtless, a chef's hat slanting on top of his head.

She giggles, “What are you doing?”

“You thought I was just bullshitting about finding you them’ red velvet cupcakes?” He questions, going to stand in front of the kitchen’s island, “Imma’ make them for you.”

Dammit. There goes her heart fluttering again. She rolls her eyes as she goes over to him, pulling the hat off his head while wiping the flour along his nose, “Maybe I can help with that. What do you need me to do, chef?” 

Spending time with him outside of PT was different. Seeing him go as far as to make the dessert she’d wanted weeks ago, made her realize how much he’d actually been thinking about her.

Blue watched as he stood on the other side of the counter, rolling up a blunt they’d agreed on smoking together. Her eyes might’ve been…drifting at him doing such a simple task, palm slow in mixing the batter.

“You gon’ have to keep them’ pretty ass eyes off me, Blue. Unless you tryna’ have a nigga come over there.”

Onyankopon eyes are still down. His tongue rolls across the blunt, sealing the object.

A small smile comes along her face, placing her focus back along the batter as she replies, “Sorry.”

He chuckles, placing the end between his lips before igniting the blunt—taking a long drag, smoke wafting out his nose as he questioned, “Yo’ momma named you that ‘cause of them’ oceans you got for eyes?”

She softly laughs, “No. I was stuck in the hospital a couple weeks after she gave birth to me—premature, less than five pounds. My mom said I cried like hell in that incubator, and it made her cry. Gave her the blues. My eyes are on the account of my grandfather who had some syndrome, passed it down to me. I guess it just felt appropriate.”

Her voice was smooth. His eyes watched as she moved, trying to keep her composure as she poured her batter into the cupcake liners. It had to be the smoke, or the fact that he liked her, as his mind began to wander on how she’d sound moaning in his ear. He takes another hit, the blunt still between his fingers as he exhales, passing the object over to her.

She reaches over, pressing the brown bud in between her dark pink lips. She then questions, “Why you’ so interested in me? You ain’t got a bunch of bitches lined up to play basketball wife?”

“And I know you got a lot more niggas than me tryna’ talk to you, but who’s the only one making you them’ cupcakes?” He questions, leaning against the kitchen counter. 

“Still not you. I’m the one mixing the batter,” she points out.

She looks up to see the instant irritation on his face. 

He eases up as he leans forward, “Pass that shit back, you blowin’ me. Throw a nigga a bone. Somethin’.”

Her eyes are still against the burgundy contents of the batter, thinking of his words. It was hard for her to open up at times—but she’d spent a lot of time with Onyankopon at this point, and she couldn’t deny the feelings developing for him. It was time to give him some vulnerability.

“I um—I tore my ACL back in college.”

Blue can see the frown that comes to his face. She hates that she can feel a heaviness within her chest, pushing herself to continue, “Had a girl off another team push me the wrong way, and my knee shattered when I stumbled. I mean—I still do something I love, but I loved playing ball more. I think that’s why I tend to be so hard on you about your recovery. You still have the opportunity to play—so play.” 

He remains quiet as he digests what she tells him. Going from knowing nothing about this girl, to knowing all of the shit she’d been through—it made him want her more.

She notices his face, releasing her hands from the bowl as she apologizes, “I wasn’t tryna’ fuck up the mood.”

“You didn’t,” he says, his words a low murmur, “All that shit you went through made you who you are now. You tough as fuck, Blue. Selfless as hell, too. Nobody could take that shit from you.”

Her heart beats as he comes around the counter, distracting herself as she steals the blunt from his fingers, “You just sayin’ all that cause I got you ready for playoffs.”

“You hear me, right?” 

He was so close, tilting his head down, keeping his face close to hers. 

She blinks slowly, exhaling the smoke from her lips as she nods, “I hear you, Ony.” 

“So why you actin’ like you don’t believe that a nigga got feelings for you?”

“Cause you’re sayin’ all this when you’re high.” 

“I’m barely high,” his eyes wandered down to her lips, “Why you frontin’?”

Her high was now hitting her, creating a buzz along her body, her lids a little heavier than before. She turns towards the counter, grabbing for the frosting bag as she grins, “You ain’t finish making my cupcakes. I thought you said you liked me?” She tilts her head, eyes glowing a slight shade of red.

“I like you like hell,” he grunts, latching a kiss along her cheek, it makes her giggle and push at his chest. He notices the way she relaxes, “How’ you feelin’, Mama—you good?” His tone was sensual, but genuine, “You wanna’ lay down?”

“You think I can’t handle myself?” She frowns, “I’m good, boy. Want some frosting? I hope it’s buttercream!”

She wraps her arms around his neck, “Put me on the counter. My feet hurt.”

He chuckles, grabbing her by the waist as he sits her atop the island, sliding both her legs apart. 

“Better?”

“Mhm,” she nods, beginning to rub her palms along the sides of his neck, “You’re so sweet.”

“You the sweetest thing on this island,” he counters, sliding her lower along the edge. He stands in between her legs, palms along her thighs.

“Sweeter than the frosting?” She questions, squeezing some along her finger, wrapping her lips along the tip of her index.

“You playin’.”

Onyankopon’s large hand wraps around her wrist, pulling her finger out of her mouth. He then takes her digits in between his own lips, tongue dragging along the frosting.

Blue takes more frosting along her free hand, plopping some on the edge of his chin. Her giggles aren’t something he’s used to yet. He could replay them over and over. Now seeing her like this—floaty, flirty, it might’ve had his mind elsewhere. 

She blows out a breath, eyes boring into his as she pouts, “You gotta re-light the blunt, it went out.”

She was seated on the island, and yet his head was still level with her own. His voice was a low rumble as he continued, “Why you’ worried about that? Youn’ want my tongue instead?”

“On me?”

“All over you, girl,” his voice drops further, lips inches from her own, “Where ‘you want me?”

She searches around his face, lightly pressing her teeth along the plush of her lip. Squeezing out more frosting, Blue swipes it along the side of her neck, her voice soft as she sighs, “…Here.”

“On that pretty ass neck,” he murmurs against her skin, lips dragging as close as possible. His kiss was light, teasing as he slowly made his way back up. Her neck smelled of cinnamon. 

She was within his grasp, tongue coating along her skin, the frosting smearing across her throat. Onyankopon could feel a shiver vibrating throughout her spine at the contact, Blue’s thighs squeezing together in response.

Her giggles lessen as his tongue drags all along the length of her neck, softening into breathy inhales. When she goes to pull her face down—his fingers dig into her curls, yanking her head back. Blue’s eyes roll back in response. 

“It t—tickles, Ony…”

He chuckles against her neck, his tongue coiling around the inside of her ear. It goes down, gliding past her jawline, lightly rushing across her lips.

The moment she feels his mouth along her own, her entire body tenses, thinking back to the kiss he’d given her in the store. Her palm slides to the back of his neck, breath wafting along his mouth as her thighs repeated in squeezing together. It’s as if she’s anticipating his next move, more needy than she expected herself to be. 

She lets it slip out as she whimpers, “Why won’t you kiss me…”

He pulls away, leaving only an inch of space between them, “Thought you didn’t believe a nigga liked you?”

The grip at the back of her curls loosen only slightly, his voice a husk as he grunts, “Open.”

A small giggle falls from her lips as she sticks out her tongue in response, rims of her eyes a dark azure. He lets out a low groan, tongue plunging deep within her mouth, twisting around her own. Their kiss makes her eyes feel heavier, her brain emptier, her thoughts—hornier. The frosting along her skin smudges everywhere as they move together, dropping along her thighs, sliding lower on her legs. Without another thought, Blue’s shriek echoes the walls as he locks her legs around his hips, carrying her onto the sofa.

Her back lays atop of the pillows, eyes flicking over to the mirror giving a perfect view of their bodies—The balls of her feet slide against his chest as she keeps her legs up, Onyankopon hovered above her, pressing the blunt back between his lips, swiping the lighter across his thumb. 

Blue’s low eyes watch him. He pulls the bud from his mouth, pressing a kiss to the side of her foot, pecking his lips towards her French tipped toes. 

“We were supposed to be baking,” she huffs in annoyance, but yet, she lightly rotates her hips at the sensation of his mouth.

When the blunt is lit, he drags his tongue along her calves. 

He then questions, “What were we makin’ again? Tell me.”

Her legs shake as he snatches the skin going up her leg in between his lips, “T—Those cupcakes you promised to make me, Ony…”

“That’s what you want right now?”

She wanted to answer back—she really did. She just couldn’t.

Onyankopon hands her back the blunt, Blue watching how his lips went from the back of her knees, to now meeting at her thighs, tongue gliding across any part of her skin he could reach.

When he drags more upward, there’s a smack when his lips meet her own. He watches as she pulls smoke into her mouth, holding it there until he grunts, “Give it to me.”

She pushes the smoke out, silence between the two as their lips seal together cohesively. 

His lips suck against hers, the kiss loud and sloppy. Blue softly whines. Her head nearly falls back to keep up with him, thighs opening, hung along the broad frame of his back. Onyankopon’s head was beginning to fuzz, which coaxed his head to duck down, tongue swirling, dancing along the inside of her thigh.

“Talk to me,” his voice mutters a seductive rasp against her skin, nose and mouth smushing against the warmth, “Whatchu’ thinkin’ about?”

She doesn’t wanna admit to what she’s actually thinking. But with his lips everywhere as he’d promised, smoking, and suppressing the tension she’d felt the moment she’d met this man—she couldn’t help it anymore.

“Want you in me, Ony.”

Her voice is pleading. Blue tugs the fabric of her panties to the side of her pelvic, too impatient to actually remove them, spreading her legs a bit wider. 

He groans at the sight. His eyes drop down as he grunts, “Lemme’ see that pretty ass pussy.”

Blue snatches the material farther, showing off the glistening sight of her bubblegum pink core, delectable under the lights of his home.

Onyankopon places the blunt on his glass coffee table, lips moving back up her skin until he meets her own again. He was already tugging down his sweatpants, hand coming up to the back of her neck as he kept her lips locked against his own. His tone was lowered.

“You sure?”

She nods her head, using her own hand to swipe along her pussy. She’s twisting her lower half a bit, “C’mon, Ony.” 

The sight of his tip was—not what she expected. It was a darkened pink, weighted, long as it smushed along her wet folds, kissing at the hidden part of her clit— Heavy, was all she could think. 

His voice is a grunt while he speaks, “I’m not gon’ fit like that. Lemme’ eat you.” 

“Make it fit,” she whimpers, splaying her fingers along the back of her thighs, spreading herself even more. 

His jaw clenched at her words. Onyankopon was practically glaring down at her. He grunts into a soft kiss as he leans down, capturing their lips together. He takes her legs, pressing her knees beneath his chest, ankles against the sides of his head as he has her trapped.

The moment she feels herself within this position, she rethinks all of her pleading. But it’s too late—Blue’s eyes lock down to watch his tip sink between her folds, an ache throbbing against her entire lower half. Her hips tense, but as that discomfort wafts through her entire body in waves, another ocean arises— a sense of pleasure meeting with that. Her mouth lightly parts as Onyankopon keeps his face close, Blue quietly inhaling, a long exhale panting from her lips. 

She places her hand to the back of his neck, a frown coming against her lips as she shudders, “O—oh shit…” 

His mouth covers all of her own, muffling her whimpers as he holds himself by the base, pushing in farther. His words are a low rumble, “You know I wanna hear you. Get loud.” 

Blue clutches the back of his head, eyes rolling back as he still hadn’t really moved, yet she felt everything. Their foreheads meet as she gives him another gasp, thighs trembling in response to his words.

“Ain’t no one ever took you this deep?” He grunts, his lips dragging to meet her neck, “Told you’ you wasn’t ready for allat.’”

He presses his mouth down to her throat, Blue’s bottom lip drooping even lower, her eyes screwing shut, feeling a rapture of pleasurable tears wanting to form. He still hadn’t moved. 

“You gon’ take me, ain’t you?”

 His tongue rolls along the skin closest to her shoulders.

Her legs vibrate in between their bodies, arousal creating a tiny puddle against the furniture, Blue knocking her head back along the sofa, trying to find words—she can’t. 

“S—shit, Ony,” she trembles, “Wait…”

“Nah,” he grunts, his voice a low growl. 

Deeper. 

“You can,” His eyes burn into her own, tip kissing at her opening as he drags out, sopping the warm skin of her pussy.

His voice is taunting. 

“This’ what you wanted, huh?” 

“Ony.”

He gives a low groan when she says his name, pressing their lips together as hips sinks back in. 

When their lips pull apart, his eyes lock on hers, “You so muhfuckin’ pretty, Mama.”

The compliment, his glare—it’s all too much. When she realizes she has no way out of this position, she raises her mouth up in the want of another kiss, her voice soft as she gives him a breathy whine, pouting along her mouth, moaning pitifully against Onyankopon’s lips.

His tongue coils along her own, sucking at each corner of her mouth, “Why you pouting’?”

She wraps an arm along the top of his back, pulling his face closer within her neck, allowing his nose to nudge against the warm flesh. His mouth is directly next to her ear, as hers is equally close to his own. She finds her words in a whine.

“Stretching me, baby…” 

She clutches him closer in, her eyes fully rolling back as she hides her face within his shoulder, “So full…” she whimpers.

The sensation had her eyes watering, and it made her shake against his body. Onyankopon lets out a low snarl. Hearing her right beside his ear was driving him insane.

“Look how you takin’ allat’,” he murmurs, giving her a slow grind, lips dragging along her temple, “You’ hear allat’ noise?” 

The noise she heard was wet—schluck, schluck, her walls bear hugging the stretch of his dick, practically sucking him farther in. 

A moan. It was vulnerable, a pure sound of pleasure. She hides her face within his shoulder, opening her legs a little more, keeping his nose against her throat. 

His hips now sling forward, a loud clap resounding as their thighs met. His hand grabs her thighs, pushing them upward, the new angle allowing him to go deeper inside.

“…Fuck,” she groans, placing the back of her palm against her mouth, her other fingers imbedded into his skin, “Ony, baby.”

“Ony nothin’,” he snatches a kiss from her mouth, tugging her face back to his, “Look at me.”

Her face is on fire, but she could care less. Blue’s mouth unlatched from its lock, moaning in repetitions, “Keep going. Fuck me, Fuck me, baby. F—fuck me.”

“You gon’ keep moanin’ for me like that?” 

She nods, giving him a soft peck, one that made him lowly laugh along her mouth. 

She pouts, “Don’t laugh.”

“Ain’t laughin’ at you, Mama. You’ just cute.”

He brings his hand up to clasp along her throat, keeping himself chest to chest with her, gyrating his hips— It makes Blue shudder, attempting to keep her eyes against his. 

“Had all that fuckin’ attitude when you first met me.”

His hand clasped tighter with his words, making Blue clutch her fingers around his wrist that held her throat, whimpering, “Ony.” 

“You ain’t believe a nigga when I said I liked you,” he grunts, tugging her face closer, “You got me showin’ that shit.”

“I’m sorry,” she whines, her eyes flicking back to the mirror, seeing her body folded beneath him. Her eyes are low as she’s in a pleasured haze, looking back at him as she says, “I like you so much, baby…”

“You just talkin’,” his abdomen bumps harshly with the back of her thighs, drenched in her own wetness, “We still gon’ have them’ problems when I’m done with you?” 

The smack of skin against skin was soaked, Onyankopon going so deep it sent Blue’s eyes back. He could only chuckle at the sight of her, voice a low grunt against her ear, “What you gon’ say?”

He slides one arm beneath the back of her neck, the other hand going along the front of her throat. Their lips pressed together in a kiss as he murmured, “You gonna’ be my girl?” Blue’s lips trembling against his own, “You mine after this?”

It’s a particularly harsh thrust that has Blue gasp, gripping along the top of his back. Her mouth quivers, her legs mimicking as if she’d been tased. 

She could only get out, “Y—yeah! Ony…”

His mouth slides down her jaw. He growls, “That nigga wasn’t doing all this to you, huh?” 

Now he’s being petty. Her mind rushes to her ex, and she whimpers, “Stop it.”

The pressure from his hands has her mouth open. His low grunts were loud, a clack sounding as he pressed his forehead against her own. 

Even deeper. 

“You’ doing good, baby. That’s my fuckin’ big girl.”

She doesn’t know what’s happening—what she’s feeling. Her stomach coils within itself, lower body rapturing in a sense of pleasure she’s never felt before, almost to a point where it feels violent. The moan that comes from her lips is louder than she expects it to be, to a point where she grips onto him for dear life, trying to relax her body as she orgasms. Onyankopon leans himself down, capturing her clit within his mouth as he just couldn’t help himself—he eats away at her, letting the gush fall straight onto his tongue, shaking his head between the folds of her pussy to drown in the taste of her. 

“Shit tastes better than that fuckin’ icing.” 

Blue’s gasping.

But she doesn’t expect what he does next. Throughout her entire body responding to each touch, sound, affection he gives, Onyankopon flips her, to where she’s now on her stomach against the sofa, his chest against her back. He slaps his tip in between the parted space of her ass, nudging it between her folds all while sinking back in—When she feels her ass clap against his hips in the middle of her orgasm, Blue moans, desperately trying to pull away from him, curls falling along her face as he snatches her back.

It was an animalistic motion, his hand wrapping around the back of her neck, shoving her face into the corner of the couch.

“You runnin’ from me?” 

He’s using his elbow to slam her down, her pussy squelching with each pull. Blue can see herself from the mirror, and it makes her pout, looking directly at Onyankopon, reaching her arm back as she whimpered, “N—no, B—baby…”

“You tryna’ take my pussy away?”

“No, Ony.”

His mouth goes back down to her skin, breath hot against her spine, “You want it slower?”

She adjusts her legs, arching her back as she turns her head to meet his. She begs, “Slower, yeah, need to feel it like that.” 

The hand she places along his abdomen, he catches, using that as leverage to give her the slow pound she was looking for. His hips slowly pull back, rocking forward. 

Blue hisses, going back to the mirror, “Just like that, baby...”

Onyankopon could feel Blue fluttering around him, he groaned against her ear, “Just like this?”

The question alone makes her nod, his groans making her stomach twist. 

“You hear me, Mama?”

Her back arches more, her face shoving into the sofa’s material to release a loud moan that's muffled within the pillows. Her eyes screwed shut as he clutched her hair, tugging her face upwards.

His voice was low, “Look at us.”

Blue’s eyes come open, seeing their frames colliding together. She’s able to tug his upper half down, twisting her body to somewhat face him, wrapping her hand along the back of his neck as she pulls his face close to hers. 

“Stay here,” she lightly gasps, “Here.”

One of his hands is tangled in her curls, the other hand clamping her face, lips a mere inch between each other. This way, he could watch her. Blue’s eyes looked over him, and she watched back.

“Spank me,” she whimpered, “Please.”

“I thought you ain’t beg?”

That question. 

Her freckled cheeks return to warmth. She gives him a soft kiss, “Please, Ony. Please.” 

His smirk grows, Onyankopon slamming his hand against the skin of her ass, shaking the ripping flesh, the sound reverberating against the walls. Blue sultrily giggles, her eyes narrowing, hips beginning to fuck him back, wanting him to receive the pleasure he’d been giving her. He was rocking along with her, hand gripping onto her ass with the other hand pushing against her back.

His voice was low when he spoke, “You know I love how you look at me, right?”

Blue’s eyes were a haze, a small breath coming out while swirling her hips, “So handsome, baby. Can’t help it,” her curls hang along her face, Blue mindlessly blowing them out the way.

“What’ I do to deserve you?”

That’s when he places a foot along the couch for a better grip, keeping Blue’s legs straight below him, once again having her stuck—His hips are dropping down, the sound of her ass applauding back on his dick so loud that it causes her mouth to completely part open. She’s unable to hold herself back, face twisted within the mirror as she released, “Ungh, fuck—baby, Ony…I’m cumming…”

“You ain’t gotta’ tell me,” he hushes, biting down on her shoulder, nearly sinking his entire bottom lip into her skin, “I know. Cum all on this muhfuckin’ dick.” 

His palm clasps along her mouth, sounds still pushing out between his fingers, her face drenched with tears, eyes rolling back as she sobbed beneath him. She couldn’t stop looking within the mirror at him, pleasure, an admiration too full to hide.

He made her watch, his hand gripping under her chin, forcing her head upward to watch their bodies connect. It made him grip her hair tighter. 

“You watchin’?”

“I’m watching.” 

The mirror showed everything—Onyankopon had her in a complete lock. 

His toned was breathless as he moaned, “Fuck, I’m finna’ bust.” 

Their lips met, tongues tangling together, groans coming from deep within their throats.

Her scream swallows down his mouth, his deep moan hidden under the skin of her throat as he places his face there, the warmth of his cum spurting the tightness of her walls. It felt all the more real, the symphony of their bodies coming together like a song on loop—never ending. 

The music humming along the room returns to her ears, the scent of icing all along her skin. Blue tries to control her breathing as she drags his palm to gently hang along her face, glancing around his chest as she sees the scratches against his skin. 

“…Sorry.” 

Her voice is breathless, wanting to pull him down for another kiss.

“What’chu apologizing for?” His voice is a low husk, eyes piercing into her own, “You got me good.” 

Blue’s chest heaved, Onyankopon’s thumb pushing down against the swell of her bottom lip. He grunts, “You need a minute.” 

“No,” She’s wiggling, “Wanna’ keep going.”

His eyebrows raise, “I ain’t do you in like I needed to?”

That’s when she gives a tired giggle. She might’ve lied, as her eyes feel extremely heavy. Her palm grazes his chin, “I’m not gonna’ admit to that.”

“Still stubborn as hell,” he murmurs, catching her lips within his.

He scans her eyes, seeing that they’ve become lighter now. He couldn’t stop looking at her.

He then says, “Ion’ think I ever said thank you for helping me out.”

Blue runs her thumb along his mouth, her voice soft, “It’s my job. You don’t have to thank me.”

He stares at her, “Nah.”

His fingers sink into her hair, “You had my back,” He continues, “You meant it when you said you was gon’ make sure I was good. I’d never had someone like that before,” His voice is a hushed whisper, “So thank you, forreal’.”

He leans down, pressing his lips along her own again, “Imma’ make sure to have yours, Blue.”

Instead of her heart fluttering this time, it explodes. To think she hadn’t taken this man seriously before, she had no reason to not to take her chance with him. 

She gives a soft smile, “You’re such a lil’ sweetie. You wanna go finish baking?”

He shakes his head, “I’m comfortable,” he murmurs, “Just lemme’ be here like this. I’ll buy the whole muhfuckin’ Whole Foods for you when I wake up.”

Her giggle is like a lullaby, pretty, which makes him chuckle. 

But of course, Onyankopon had to ruin the moment.

“So you my girl now, huh? I mean—you said it while I was in your shit. You was like ‘Yeah, Ony, Ugnh!’—“

“Onyankopon!”

“Imma’ love hearing that all the time,” he sighs, “Night, Mama.”

[g4rvez-r3id]

I’m Here, Now

Post Prison! Spencer Reid x Girlfriend!Fem Reader

Synopsis: Your boyfriend, Spencer gets released from prison and you’re his first stop after dealing with Cat Adams and her schemes. And all he wants to do is see you and love you.

Category: Smut, Fluff

Warnings: 18+ MDNI established relationship, prison arc, spoilers of season 12 of Criminal Minds, it’s a lil sad tbh but it only lasts for a second, reader’s in disbelief, spencer and reader being cutesy, crying, kissing, mentions of bruises, threats, sappy speeches, fluffy ending, lowkey not true to 12x22/13x01 so this could be an au! smut warnings: soft!dom spencer (firm believer here🙋‍♀️), a lil body worship from reader to spencer, oral sex (m receiving & reader receiving), facefucking, cum swallowing, “good girl”, riding, unprotected sex, mentions of masturbation, creampie, overstimulation, spencer lowkey being a munch- that should cover it 😃

Author’s Note: hey lovelies, i can’t stop writing smutty oneshots ahhhh i can’t help it, i just love my man 🤭 i hope y’all enjoy this because i’ve had my mind on prison arc reid bc i’m watching s12 rn and oooo he so fine in 12a and in 12b 😩 anyways hope y’all like this <3

You worried that maybe he’d never come back. Upon hearing he was in jail in Mexico, you worried you’d never see Spencer again.

If your past self could tell you that your boyfriend, Dr. Spencer Reid, who was a nerd at heart, who spent his free time playing chess and reading and watching Doctor Who with you under your fluffy blankets and wore mismatched socks because he believed it was good luck, that he would one day end up being framed and sent to prison, you would’ve laughed in your face.

You never would’ve expected this to happen. But then you heard why. He was framed for murdering a woman named Nadie Ramos, who was helping him get his mother medicine that seemed to calm her from her episodes. If there was anyone he would’ve risked everything for besides you, it was his mother.

And to be honest, you were a little mad at him for lying to you. He told you that he was going to Houston to talk to some of his mom’s doctors. You’d been together four years now and not once did he ever lie to you until now. When he got transferred to the Milburn Correctional Facility, due to overcrowding, he’d requested to see you and only you.

It wasn’t until Spencer wrote you a letter, practically begging you to come and see you. The first time you’d gone to see him, you actually didn’t even recognize him, skipping over him and almost staring at him in confusion when he walked over to the other side of your plexiglass.

And you tried to play it off like you expected him, even while looking like he did, but he knew deep down you didn’t recognize him. He chose not to acknowledge it but you both knew.

And you visited him frequently, until he decided to cut you from the visitor log with no warning. You were hurt, to say the least. And you ended up avoiding everyone after that. You even ignored the many fruit baskets Garcia kept sending over but you kept sending them back.

But then a miracle happened.

They proved his innocence. And he was out.

You would’ve found that out if you’d checked your phone but you spent the entire day in bed, away from society and sobbing at the fact that he was gone and he wasn’t here, comforting you like he did so well.

You hated him, you hated him for putting you in this position, for making you deal with the aftermath, for pushing you away. But you loved him. You would never stop loving him, no matter how much you hated him right now.

You’d been laying in bed, tossing and turning all day as the TV played some random sitcom you watched every now and again. And you’d heard something. A soft knock coming from your front door.

You almost missed it but it was faint. And you heard it. Choosing to finally get out of bed, you opened your room door and walked to the front door. You opened it without checking the peephole, because at this point you’d had enough and just wanted death to get you over with already.

But death may have stopped your heart only for a moment when you open the door.

Because standing there, in the suit he’d gotten arrested in when his bail was denied, his hair outgrown and his stubble framed nicely on his face — was your boyfriend, Spencer Reid, in the flesh.

You gasped softly as you backed away from the door and stared at him, almost as if you were disbelief. You’d had a dream like this before. Where he came back and promised he was here to stay. (But it was another one of God’s cruel jokes and you cried when you woke up the following day).

He walked in and closed the door right behind him, standing tall in front of you. You noticed the bruises on his face, how his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed and stared at you.

“Hi.” He said softly and all you can do is stare at him. “Am I dreaming?” You find yourself asking out loud and his heart breaks. He can see that you’re scared. Scared that if you go up to him, he’ll disappear like smoke. And he hates that.

“No.” Spencer shakes his head and he waits for you to approach him and you do, walking slowly towards him as the floorboard creaks beneath your socked feet.

He waits as you first grab his hands, and interlock your fingers together. When that seems not to be enough for you, your hands move to his face. You caress the sharp new grown stubble on his face and drag your index finger to his plump lips and stare into his hazel eyes and they’re full of wonder and love.

You don’t even register the tears until you hold him in your arms and you hold onto him for dear life. He holds you tightly in his arms as you find yourself wrapping around him like a koala and all he can do is hold you back. And it grounds him, you ground him.

Your head moves towards his and you kiss his lips, like you’ve longed to do for three months. And part of you still couldn’t believe this, that he was here, holding you like you were going to break.

You kiss him a few more times before you pull back and ask with tears in your eyes, “Are you okay?” Spencer nods toward your forehead, “I’m okay, now that I’m here.”

“You’re here, now.” You look him in the eyes as you say this and he nods at your words, repeating them to himself. “I’m here, now.” It’s as if he’s reminding himself that he’s here with you because he’s worried he’s gonna wake up any minute and he’ll be back in that cell. You weren’t the only one who had a hard time believing this was real.

Spencer’s lips catch yours and he pushes into the kiss and you get back on the ground, your hands (or mouth) not leaving him for a second and making their way up to his hair and pulling. You whine into his lips as he you pull him by his belt and walk backwards to your bedroom with him following you.

With your strength, you twirl the two of you around and straddle him as you continue to kiss him. You rock your hips into his growing bulge and he moans into your mouth and you smirk in the middle of the kiss.

You begin to unbutton his suit and successfully get his blazer off and now next is his dress shirt but he’s quick to grab your hands and you look at him with wide eyes.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong?” You ask, willing to put a stop to this if he wasn’t ready. “Nothing, I just…” Spencer looks down as he lets go of your hands and seemingly now growing insecure all of a sudden.

He stands up from the bed and you look up at him as he holds his arms over his stomach. “I just… I got hurt pretty bad in there. You’re gonna see some bruises. I just don’t want you to freak out. He admits and your heart breaks, “You don’t have to take your shirt off. Or we can just stop entirely and—”

Spencer shakes his head, “No, it’s okay. You’re gonna see them eventually.” With that, he begins to unbutton his dress shirt and you give him all the time in the world to do so, not wanting to rush this at all.

When he takes off his dress shirt successfully, you finally see it. He has bruises everywhere on his ribs and some near his belly button and on his stomach. Some are still in the process of healing with yellow and gray hues and some are purple and mucus green.

“Oh, my love…” You whisper to yourself as you stand up and you turns him around and find more on his back and there’s just too many of them. You find yourself tearing up but you know you need to keep it together for him. Who could hurt your sweet boy? Was this why he didn’t want you to see him anymore while he was still in there? How long did this go on for?

It’s then that you register the bruise near his eye. You thought that it was due to the lack of sleep he’d been getting and assumed it was the bags under his eyes he so often got but it was a bruise. How did you miss that when he walked in?

He almost wants to hide himself, like a turtle under its’ shell and you look down at his body. “Baby…” You start but he shakes his head. “I’m so sorry.”

He looks at you as you guide him towards the bed and he lays back and you go back to straddling him, but this time, you’re careful as you hover over him.

You kiss his lips before making your way down to his neck and then to his body and it takes a second for him to register that you’re not just kissing his body, you’re kissing the bruises.

He feels himself getting choked up as you kiss every visible one and his heart swells for you. What did he did to deserve you?

You begin to unbuckle his belt but he rests his elbows on the bed and looks down at you. “You—You don’t have to…” He trails off but you quickly shake your head. “I know. But I want to. It’s your first night back. This is about you tonight, baby.”

Spencer doesn’t interfere, just stares as you unbuckle his belt and pull out his cock through the hole in his underwear and it springs into action, dripping pre-cum from the head. “Oh, my sweet boy. You must be so pent up.”

You kiss the tip of his dick and he shuts his eyes tightly as if he’s trying to hold back from already cumming. You lick up his shaft and fit his cock inside your mouth and he curses to himself as he grips your bedsheets as tight as he can.

You notice this, grabbing his hand and interlocking your fingers together, as if you’re telling him and giving him permission to touch you as you bob your head up and down.

He takes this opportunity to caress your face as you take him into your mouth. He ties your hair into a makeshift ponytail as he pushes deeper onto his cock and even lifts his hips to ensure that you’re taking all of him until you’re gagging.

“Let me know if it’s too much, okay?” Spencer tells you and you nod to the best of your ability until you begins to fuck your throat, using your mouth for his pent up pleasure. “Fuck… God, you’re so good at that. Letting me fuck your throat like the good girl you are.”

His words could make you cum on the spot without him even laying a finger on you. He rarely cursed in your domestic setting but he did it often when you two were in bed.

All you can do is take it as deep as it can go in your mouth. He whines into the ceiling as he says your name until you feel his hot cum dribble down your throat and your nose is buried into his crotch as he holds you there and makes you take all his cum into your mouth.

He pants as he releases your head from his cock and you swallow the rest of his cum. He looks at you with worried eyes, concerned that maybe he’d gone too far. “I’m sorry, baby. Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” He asks, like he didn’t just cum into your mouth and call you a “good girl”.

You shake your head at him with a small smile. “That was just about the hottest thing you’ve ever done.” (And everything he did was always hot). He blushes and crooks a smile.

“Are you willing to keep going?” You ask him and he nods with an immediate answer, “Absolutely.” He’d never let you go to bed without making you cum at least twice.

You climb on top of him with a smirk and look deeply into his eyes. They’re filled with lust, love and adoration for you and for you only. “You’re so beautiful.” You say to him in a whisper but Spencer chuckles a bit, “I should be saying that to you.”

You look down as your pussy catches the tip of his cock and you sink down into him carefully. He moans at the feeling and you gasp. He fits perfectly.

“God, I missed you. Missed this…” Spencer catches his breath. “Perfect pussy.” You chuckle and looks into his eyes as you rock back and forth. “It was so lonely without you, Spencer.” You whine. “I missed you so much.”

You lean down as you kiss him on the lips. “Did you…” He pauses, not wanting to be crude even while he was inside of you. “While I was away?” It took a second to figure out what he was talking about. And then you realized that he was asking if you’d masturbated while he was away.

“A few times,” You admitted shyly, despite suffocating him with your pussy. “I thought about you every time. It just wasn’t the same. Missed your body.”

Spencer smiles darkly, “Maybe I should punish you for that.” He says, half-joking. You lean forward as you smirk, “I’d like to see you try.”

And without a second thought, it was as if a switch flipped as Spencer was quick to flip your bodies over and he hovers over you, both hands on either side of your head, gripping the pillows. “You really wanna test that theory?”

You bite your lip and smirk once more as you pull him in for another kiss and he glides himself into you and you gasp at the feeling of his dick inside of your pussy. It’d been such a long time since you felt him like this, here, in your arms. God, you love him.

He rocks his hips, thrusting deeply into your body as leans his head in your shoulder, mumbling sweet obscenities and how good your pussy feels and how responsive you were. He dreamt of the day he’d have you like this. And since being in prison, he longed for it more.

He reached down in between your legs as he found your clit without even looking down and staring deeply into your eyes and your moans reverberate through the walls as keeps his eyes on you and you only.

“Baby, I’m sorry, I need to cum— where? Where?” He asks and you shut your eyes tightly as you shout, “Inside! Oh, god, inside!”

He pushes himself hard into you as you finally cum, your legs shaking as you moan his name into the ceiling and he collapses on your body, still sheathed inside of you.

You both lay there, panting and reveling in the feeling of each other. Eventually, Spencer does pull out of you and you feel as he lowers himself, eyeing your pussy up close and you look down at him sleepily. “Baby, you don’t have to. This was about you.” You assure.

“Nonsense,” Spencer tells. “I need to clean up my mess and even the score, might as well kill two birds with one stone.” He jokes, diving face first into your pussy and you whimper at the contact he makes, especially with the way his stubble is rubbing against your thighs, cleaning his own cum out of your pussy and relishing in the way you both taste.

His mouth captures your clit and he twists his tongue around the bud in that delicious way you love and he moans into your pussy. “We taste so good together, baby. Cum again on my tongue, this time.”

You tug at his messy hair as you hold his head to you pussy and you use him, rocking your hips into his mouth. You feel as your legs shake once more and you let go of his head for him to take a breather.

That breather lasts only a second before he dives back in and you whine at the contact. “Spence… baby, I’m sen—sensitive.”

“You can take one more, baby. I know you can. You can cum again.” Spencer says, his pupils are blown as he looks at you and he’s commanding you to cum again. “Just one more, baby.”

You nod at him and Spencer grabs your hands. “Here,” He interlocks your fingers with his and somehow, the pleasure is so much and yet not at all as makes you cum for a third time tonight. If he could spend forever eating your pussy, he would.

You close your eyes for a moment and when you finally open them, he’s right next to you and holding you. (He’d cleaned you up properly with a warm rag and left your favorite snack and water bottle on the desk next to your bed whenever you were ready to wake up). You remembered the loving words he whispered to you as you drifted off into a heavy slumber.

And you’ve finally woken up. You look up at him, still in awe of him being here. You take the chance to check the time. It’s already 5am and the sun is still shy away from rising but it doesn’t matter. None of it matters because you have your boyfriend right next to you, holding you for dear life and loving you the way you deserve to be loved.

You worry that he’s still up, but you figure that after all those months in prison, maybe he has trouble sleeping every now and again. You find yourself holding him tighter as you look down at the bruise near your head. You can’t believe he was hurt. How did he manage to survive in there? You’re still wondering why he’d taken you off the visitor’s log.

“Spencer?” You ask and he looks down at you, your voice surprising him. “Yeah?” You sit up and look at him, face to face, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Why did you take me off the visitor’s list?” You decide to ask.

He’s about to respond and you don’t want to hear another lie. You’d been through plenty of those already. “I mean, I didn’t even want to see you at first and then you begged me to and then all of a sudden, I wasn’t allowed to. I feel like I have the right to know.”

“No, no, you do,” Spencer knows that much. He hates the fact that he’s lied to you and has forced you to deal with this when all you deserved was the best from him. He sits up next to you he knows he’s gonna need to tell you, even though he doesn’t want to.

“The last time after you came to visit me,” Spencer started. “I got cornered in my cell. A lot of the guys there were asking about you. And they said that it’d be a shame if something happened to you when you came to visit again.” You look down as he talks about it. “And I didn’t want to risk that. And I wanted to tell you, really, I did.” He grabs your hand assuringly. “But I didn’t have any way to. And I didn’t want you to get hurt. I would’ve died if something happened to you and I didn’t do everything in my power to stop it. I’m sorry it went down like it did.”

You shake your head. And you finally understand. Because if the roles were reversed, you would’ve taken him off the visitor’s list, too. If it meant protecting him. “You were just trying to protect me, I understand.”

“I just…” Spencer looks at you, holding your face in his hands. “I love you, so much.” He looks deeply into your eyes. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” He reveals and your eyes widen. “What?”

Spencer closes his eyes and holds his index finger up. “One second.” He stands up and grabs his blazer from off the floor and digs into one of the inside pockets and pulls out a red velvet box.

Your eyes widen as you cover your body with the sheet and he kneels down on one knee in his boxers and opens the velvet box to reveal a ring. “I didn’t want to do it like this but I’d rather do it now than wait for the right time to.” Your eyes glance down at the box for a mere second and then to the love of your life.

“I love you. And I want to spend the rest of my life with you. You make my days better, hell, you’ve made my life better. And no matter what we’ve gone through, you’ve stayed by my side and you never ran. I love that you sing off-key, I love that your nose twitches when you get mad, I love that you like… pineapple on pizza, oddly enough.” You chuckle at this. “I love everything about you. And I have no idea what I’ve done to deserve you. But… but true love, it fosters a connection that goes beyond the superficial. It's a bond that often involves understanding each other's core values, beliefs, and life goals. And you’ve made me believe in true love.“

You stare at him in disbelief as he continues, “Will you marry me?” You feel tears spring into your eyes as you nod vehemently, “Yes, yes, a thousand times, yes!” You smile widely and he smiles at you, slipping the ring onto your ring finger as you continue to mutter a million yeses.

When you finally get the ring on, you pull him in for another kiss and he holds you to his heart’s content. It wasn’t the way he envisioned it going, but with you, you knew you didn’t want big and bold ways of him saying he loved you and wanted to marry you, you were content with something small and sweet because it was coming from him and that was the biggest gift of all. You were one for grand gestures, you liked it just the way it was. It was perfect. He was perfect. And you’d spend the rest of your life reminding him he was.

So, you laid back in your bed with your fiancé and talked and talked about sweet nothings until the sun came up. And all of the ache you felt the night before, the pain you endured was long gone and now replaced with something beautiful and sweet.

[midnite-c6]

thanos and namgyu putting your bed in between theirs 🙏🙏 even if you chose to stop playing the game they are still making you go to the circle side to sleep and perhaps that night they could change your mind about the next time you vote..

this trope is js the best fr in another life im an X picker and these two teach me to b obedient to their requests💔

thanos & nam-gyu imagine !!!!!! pt. 3 💓

warnings: 18+ DARK content, noncon, sa

pleassee read at ur own risk

soooo, they're literally like dogs tryna chase you, even to as forcing you to be next to them : "shitheads, no matter what, i'm still gonna pick X. i'm not gonna be easily convinced." you tell them firsthand, and they both laugh to themselves

"she obviously won't listen to us, you think her stupid brain could handle it?" nam-gyu complained to thanos, annoyed by how thanos was so persistent in making you switch sides. you scoff since he wasn't so quiet in saying that either, "hey, fuck you, you think I'M stupid enough to play again? don't wanna die than-" "shut up, cunt." nam-gyu cuts you off, placing his hand on your mouth to shut you up, the cold metal of his ring grazing your warm skin. your instant reaction was to bite him, "agh- i'll fucking kill y-" "calm down! everybody chiiiillllll." thanos, like a saviour, stopped nam-gyu from hitting you. "i'm sure we can all have a fair agreement, everybody gets what they want. right, pretty?" thanos turned to look at you, pushing his face awfully close to yours. "and what i want iss.... you." he stares directly into your eyes, that creepy smirk with eyes you KNOW isn't sober at all.

"you could scream and cry all you want, but you know noone in this room would be bothered to help you, girl." nam-gyu whispers into your ears whilst thanos carries you to the bathroom..

nsfw beloww ＼⁠(⁠^⁠o⁠^⁠)⁠／ ->

you were now naked, your sweaty body laying on the filthy bathroom floor, noone could hear your cries for help when nam-gyu's cock forces you to deepthroat him, his hand pulling on your hair to further be balls-deep inside your mouth.. you'd choke on him, saliva dripping all over his dick and your chin. you couldn't scream... and you couldn't fight it either, if it weren't for thanos' stupid, rough hands wrapped around your arms, pinning them to the ground, your legs placed on his shoulders as his tongue laps up and down your folds.. you try your best to wiggle away (even tho its impossible) and thanos notices, "don't even.. don't even try to pretend, baby." you could feel him smile against your pussy, that sensation leaving you to moan against nam-gyu's cock. "been trying to suck in all your juices, pretty, and.. they just keep comin' out..." thanos mocks in a baby voice, "you're dripping... so you're actually a slut...a whore, huuhhh, not that cool, confident typa girl?" you cry, but.. why did you like the sensation? his warm tongue in and out of your cunt. at this point, the ecstacy that was in his mouth was getting your pussy high. "m'not into whores like you," thanos frowns and slides his' tongue up against your clit, biting it harshly, which made you yelp in pain, causing you to lightly bite nam-gyu's dick. he hissed, roughly slapping your face. "bitch!" he pulls your hair to face you, "do that one more fucking time and i'll speeden up your death, fuck." thanos' fingers came on cue, middle and ring finger plunging inside you, making you speechless, mouth open to nam-gyu's comment. he just takes it as an invitation to stuff your mouth again, leaving a low groan at the action.

"y'know dude,," thanos looks up at nam-gyu, "maybe we should keep her, after we win." nam-gyu scoffed, flicking your forehead, "you think you deserve to live, huh?" thanos chuckled, rubbing his fingers against your clit, he doesn't care if it felt good, you were just a toy afterall, "think about it.. she feels good, right? she'll be good for in the long run, trust me, man." "pft." "trust me! her cunts still tight, anyway, right princessssss?" your visions blurry, your will to live gone, still, atleast you're useful to someone or two, two of the most evilest dumbasses you'll ever encounter in your life.

[eraenaa]

Prince's Whore

Aemond Targaryen x Celtigar Reader

Synopsis: What proceeded as Prince Aemond had made you his whore. 

Warnings: Dub-Con, Harsher Aemond, Mature, Maltreatment, 18+, Fingering, P in V Sex, Not Proof Read

Word Count: 2,789

Prequel: Virginal Whore

“Have you now learned your lesson?” The prince asked, smirking as he saw your hopeless eyes and your bounded arms and legs. It was a last resort he had come to; the past moon, all you did was try to escape him, and Aemond could not stand for anyone getting in between him and what was his. You whimpered as you felt his touch on your bare waist. He had bound your hands with a silk cloth that was tied to the bed frame, and no amount of tugging or thrashing could free you from the shackles of the prince. 

You looked quite ravishing even in your frantic and desperate state— perhaps even more so, the prince thought. Your face was scarlet as pearl tears ran down your cheeks, lips swollen and crying out for release, your chest heaving as you tried to be freed. Aemond could no longer control the surge of unbridled desire coursing through him; it was harder to reign in his depravity when he knew you were his. “Please, please, I beg you, my prince— release me— kill me! Whatever it is… just let me go,” You cried as your dignity could no longer stomach being the prince’s whore. 

Aemond hummed, running his calloused hands along your smooth, supple body, grasping your flesh that was riddled with his marks. “And why should I do that, my lady? Enough with the act… do not pretend you do not enjoy your station here. Dotted and served upon each day and pleasured by me each night. Hundreds of ladies would kill for such a station as yours,” Aemond hummed, ignoring your cries and holding down your body as he placed a kiss on your navel and upwards towards your stomach. Inhaling deeply your scent that was mingled with his. “And why should I let you go? You’re rightfully and completely mine.” Aemond stated and took your heaving tit into his mouth, your whimpers growing louder as the taut bud was raw with attention from him each and every single night. 

You feel more tears stream from your eyes as your body is quick to succumb to pleasure even if your mind tries to resist it. “See how you respond to my touch… I would wager your cunt is aching for my attention, is it not, my lady?’’ The prince hummed and used his pointed nose to trace the apex of your neck, lips grazing your skin, and left a trail of blazing heat. You cried louder but your voice was useless as no one would dare to come to your aid. You feel the prince’s hand trail your thigh, inching dangerously close to your aching core that wept and longed for his touch— going against sensibilities as your cunt was as depraved as the prince’s cock. “Stop— please, I beg you, my prince,” You cried as you thrashed in his hold. Your legs were free from any restraints, and you tried to kick away the lithe yet solid figure of the prince regent, but he was unmovable. 

“Beg louder, my lady; it only makes me want to ravish you more,” He smirked against your lips. Enjoying the further horror in your eyes as you realize that your desperate state was serving as an amusement for the cruel prince. Aemond was playing with you, and never had he found such pleasure in a toy before. You were the prince’s plaything— his doll— his whore. You abruptly stopped your thrashing movements and ceased the desperate pleas leaving your lips, hoping that your silence and stillness would not entice the prince, but it was moot. Whatever it is you do, the prince could not cease himself from needing you. 

Aemond smirked as you quietly stared up at him wide-eyed. He hummed as his hand cupped your cunt, your wetness coating his fingers and palm. “See, you want me as well, my lady. Stop denying it— do you not find it exhausting as you constantly deprive yourself of the pleasure of being completely mine?” He hummed as he circled your sore nubbin. You bit your lip as you were determined not to give him any indication of satisfaction in you, but it was useless as the sound of your arousal echoed through the chambers. “Submit to me— admit that you are mine, and both of us could cease this tiring game,” Aemond sighed as he slipped a finger into your core, your cunt readily clenching around the digit. 

He waited on bated breath as he memorized each movement and reluctant sound that left your plush lips. Continuing to deny yourself pleasure. In a way, it was frustrating for the prince, even if he did find amusement in your resistance. All he wanted was for you to submit— to admit that each part of you belonged to him. Your back arched as your fingers clasped tightly around the cloth that bound them, “Do you wish to come, my lady?” He taunted as he felt your cunt spasming around his fingers. You cried in pleasure but made no reply. “If you wish for release, you know what you must do.” Aemond slowed his pleasurable actions as he saw your eyes roll back in utter satisfaction that you were stubborn enough to deny. 

Aemond used his other hand to grasp your tit, pinching the pebbled flesh, and felt you squirm in search of release. “Say that you are mine, and all that you want shall be yours, my lady.” Aemond hummed as he savored the feel of your skin. You let out a frustrated cry and pulled at your restraints. A moment passed and you still did not give a response. Prince Aemond sighed, removing his fingers from your cunt, and took off his hold on your tit. You whimpered at the loss of sensation of his calloused and cruel touch. “Very well then,” he gritted as his cock painfully throbbed in his trousers. He stood and moved to exit the chambers, denying the both of you release. 

As you watched the departing figure of the prince, your mind admitted defeat and forged any ounce of self-respect and dignity. “I… I’m yours!” You cried in indignation. The prince halted at his steps as he heard the words perfectly clear but still taunted you and made you repeat your submission to him. “I’m yours, my prince. I’m yours to do with as you please,” Your pride stung as the words left your lips, but nothing could compare to the ache in your cunt. “Yes, you are,” Aemond smirked and slowly made his way back to you to relieve you of your desperation. 

You stared upon the ceiling as the prince’s face was burrowed in your neck. Prince Aemond was sleeping soundly, his arms around your frame and caging you in—determined not to let you go, not even in sleep. You feel yourself recoil upon your decision— your submission in exchange for fleeting moments of pleasure. It was not as if you had much of a choice. You could not live freely nor die with dignity— you had not a choice but to succumb to the prince and admit your station as his whore, and perhaps, in time, you could earn a sliver of his trust and when the time comes, flee and live all of this behind. 

You barely slept that night, and when the prince woke, he was surprised to see that you were still deep in slumber. Usually, you would be the first to wake. Aemond brushed away a lock of your hair and placed tender and soft kisses upon your bare shoulder. His touch was feather light as he had no wish to wake you.

The prince offered you much-needed respite, and when you woke, it was midday. A servant glowering down at you in unmasked animosity as she held up your silk robe given to you by the prince. You stayed silent as it was growing harder to ignore the distaste held against by those employed by the prince. “Your bath is ready, m’lady,” she basically spat, and you followed her to the wet room. You shivered as the water was not at all warm, but you bit back your tongue as you did not wish to complain and give them further ammunition to dislike you. You had heard them gossiping the other day, complaining as to why they must serve you as well when you were merely the prince’s whore. You had wished to confront them— implore them to believe that you found no joy in your station and, in truth, you would rather be a scullery maid or a kitchen wench rather than be tasked to warm the prince’s bed. 

You took in a deep breath as they poured piercing cold water atop your head and roughly cleansed you. They were disregarding any pain or soreness that you harbored, not at all minding the bruises left by the prince as he had his way with you. Your teeth chattered, and you felt tears prickling your eyes, yet you still bore it all. You took in a deep breath as they poured water onto you once more, the cold water making it harder for you to breathe; you had barely recovered nor took another breath as they did the action once more, and again for a third time. You felt like drowning as the two servants were relentless in pouring water atop your head, disguising their hostility towards you in the act of cleansing. 

You feel your lungs tighten and your vision further blurry as you wave your hand for them to hinder their actions, but they ignore you. “Enough!” The prince roared, none of you aware that he was standing by the doorframe of the wet room, observing as they bathed you. “Can you not see your lady cannot breathe!” He roared as he noticed the scarlet on your chest and face as a consequence of your lack of air. He stood by the tub you sat upon in an instant, his angered face severing as he realized they bathed you with icy water that did nothing to calm your nerves or the ache in your body. You sat quietly with your head downturned towards the water as Prince Aemond seethed at the servants for their treatment of you. You did not know if you should hinder him from scolding the maids or thank him for defending you as you were silently being mistreated by the help. 

Aemond furiously brushed away the maids and knelt by the tub you sat upon, your frame shivering and your gaze cast downwards. “How long?” He gritted as he cupped your cheek, feeling the coldness of your skin. He moved to retrieve your robe, assisted you to stand, and guided you to the warmth of the hearth. “How long?” He asked once more, and you knitted your brows. “How long what, my prince?” You feigned cluelessness. “Do not act simple with me, my lady. How long have they been mistreating you?” You bit your tongue at the irony the prince presented. Accusing his help of maltreatment when he had kept you in his room and presence against your will. 

“They do no such thing—they… they do their duties,” you say, fearing that if you told the whole truth, the prince would act rashly and lead the servants to resent you further. “Do not lie; that is unbecoming of a lady,” Aemond gritted, and you shook your head. “I am no lady now… I am merely your whore. And they question as to why must they tend to the needs of a girl who is a servant as well.” You gritted, a surge of bravery coursing through your veins as the words rolled effortlessly off your tongue.

Aemond gritted his jaw as your eyes urged him for an explanation that he had none. “You are a highborn lady— how dare you even complain when I have made your stay here comfortable? What ingrate you are!” Aemond spat, and you shook your head, “I am your prisoner, my prince,” You said quietly. Your breath hitched as the prince grabbed your face in his rough hand and made you turn to him. “Prisoner or not, you are still a lady— a lady who has the blood of Old Valyria running through her veins. Mere servants will not question my orders— if I tell them to tend and serve you, they will do so with no complaints.” You held back your tongue, instead focusing on warming yourself further. 

You peeked through your lashes and saw as the prince observed you. You tried to ignore his presence, but it was a task that was impossible. You chewed on your lips and sighed, “I… I thank you for your concern, but it has no place to be bestowed on a person in my station.” You muttered, still having an announce of cordiality as the prince did show an ounce of kindness even though he took advantage of his power. “You are still a lady— my actions are not brought out of kindness but rather the truth of your station.” You frowned, still disagreeing. He kept on insisting that you were still a lady, but that title was stripped from you the moment the prince burrowed himself in your cunt. 

You stayed silent and returned to look upon the fire. The prince sighed and stood, moving to return to his duties for the day. “Could I make a request?” You suddenly asked before he could leave. Aemond paused by the door. “Could I at least right to my father? To inform him that I am live— it need not say where I am and what I had become… but I just want him to know that I still live.” You pleaded, widening your eyes in a plea. The prince did not speak. “Very well. I will write and send the letter myself— but you have my word; your father will know that you still live.”

You breathed heavily as your hips rolled against the prince. You atop of him with his cock buried deep inside your cunny as you both sought out pleasure. Aemond smirked as you tilted your head back, your body rocking against his and your cunt clenching tightly as a telltale sign that you were about to come. He reached to take hold of your tits, squeezing the soft flesh tightly, and the harshness only brought you further pleasure.  

“See how well you take me, my lady? Look at how pleased you are… why have you been so stubborn when you know that this is your rightful place? With my cock deep inside your cunt?” Aemond breathed out; his own climax was fast coming. You only replied with a moan, taking hold of his hands that held your bosom to implore him to keep his hold there. Aemond thrusted against you desperately, “Who do you belong to?” Aemond questioned, only one answer he would accept. You could not comprehend his words, too blinded by the way the prince’s cock was hitting the spot in your cunt that made you lose all your sensibilities. “Who. Do. You. Belong. To?” Aemond gritted, and each word ended with a deep thrust that finally made you hear his question. 

You leaned forward with a desperate cry, “Y… yours. I’m yours, my prince.” Aemond moved his hands to cup your behind and aid your frenzied movements. “Good,” he muttered before kissing your lips as you and him found release. As the haze of your brazen fucking had settled, the prince rested in your arms, him playing with your fingers as you two began to rest for the night.  

“Had you written to my father?” You asked delicately, not wanting to agitate or anger the prince. Aemond hummed, placing soft kisses on your fingertips. “I have.” He confirmed. “May I ask what you had written?” You questioned. Aemond breathed in deeply your scent before he spoke. “I had told him you are alive… that you are still here in Westeros… and you had denounced your allegiance towards my half-sister.” Your eyes widened, not expecting the prince to tell your father such things. “What?” You asked in dread. 

Prince Aemond’s touch moved from your fingers to your face, cupping your heated cheeks. “And I informed him of your station here as well.” You felt like you could faint, the color in your face draining except the flush on your cheeks. “You told him I was your whore?” You questioned meekly. Aemond smirked, his face threading closer to yours. “I told him you were mine.” You could not respond because the prince had claimed your lips as he had claimed each inch of you. 

Tag List: peachysunrize gelacat0413 maidmerrymint aemondwhoresworld fireydragonblood anukulee spacexdrago amanda08319 seamaiden aylasrants blackswxnn dracaryxzs trashpackbitch tomie-it-girl mamawiggers1980 chaosluvr deine-schatz

[ohmygraves]

you and simon were fighting.

it was such a dumb argument too, something that you've forgotten already, but of course he didn't. he got irritated at you and yelled, pointing fingers at you calling you stupid and bringing up all the times you've wronged him. he brought up the time when you got the two of you late for a reservation and costed him both time and money, or the time that you almost burned down the house after you fell asleep cooking something.

you were undoubtedly upset, telling him about how he didn't make you feel happy, how you were alone while he was going away for so long on deployments and you're at home with no means to talk to your husband hoping that he's still alive. or that he didn't even appreciate that you'd drag your ass out of bed when he wants some midnight snack because he's a lousy cook and he only likes your food.

the two of you went back and forth for a while, calling eachother out before simon put his foot down, yelling at you.

"i can't bloody stand you, i shouldn't have married you!"

that got you to shut up.

you looked at him in shock, eyes wide as tears slowly fell from your eyes. your lips quivered as you tried to process what he just said, wondering if he was being serious or not. wondering if he knows how much his words basically stabbed you on the chest.

simon, realizing what he just said, snapped out of his anger. knowing that he had fucked up. he tried to say something, but you quickly retreated back to your shared bedroom, locking it. your tears wouldn't stop and you started bawling, your choked sobs can be heard as he approached the door.

you thought that your marriage was over, seeing that he basically regretted his decision in making you his. he yelled at you without hesitation, making you cry and basically was quiet the whole time. you should probably go back to your parents, start separation, and—

your phone pinged, a message from simon. hesitating to open the text, your fingers trembled as you read it, eyes blurry from tears as you try to quiet your sobs.

you cried more, unlocking the door as you fling it open, jumping into simon's arms. he whispered lots of apologies, promising to make it up to you, and to never treat you this way again. you cried in his arms, feeling his tender touches on your hair and your back, hands still trembling. you're sure he's bad at this, that he feels awful for what he did (you could tell he was scared because he saw thay he slowly turned to be like his father and it scares him too).

he promised that he didn't mean what he said earlier, and he didn't regret marrying you. he'll do anything to convince you, he hated hearing your sobs and cries.

[fuckmysuguru]

JJK MEN + SEX POSITIONS.

18+, smut, sex positions ofc, dirty talk, impact play.

It's been... a while lol. I dunno what made me do this, but I'm sure someone has done it before. Anyway this is my take on it, have fun.

SATORU GOJO + LAZY DOG; He loves to touch, nothing new. With his hand on your lower back and the other one holding your hip, Satoru leans down to leave a trail of kisses at the nape of your neck. This is one of his favorites because he can see everything, and it won't make you as tired as regular doggy. "Love to watch this pretty ass bounce back," He says, spreading your cheeks and watching his cock slide in and out, almost as if he is hypnotized. If he is feeling particularly mean, he will push your head further into the bed. He can push his hips all the way in, he can slap your ass until it burns, and you beg for him to stop— he won't— and he can either cum inside you and watch it drip, or cum all over your back only to smear it with his fingers like the nasty dog he is.

SUGURU GETO + FACE TO FACE; Wrapping your leg around his hip, Suguru groans into your neck, holding you close, feeling your breasts against his chest. He loves how close you feel, how he can kiss you if he wants to, to enjoy that feeling of his tongue sliding against you as his cock stretches you perfectly. Suguru adores to see every little expression, from the way you furrow your brows every time the tip of his fat cock nudges against that sweet spot, to the way your eyes roll back when he sneaks a hand between your sweaty bodies to circle your clit. "Look at me when you cum, angel," He whispers. Bonus points if he stays inside you after, falling asleep with his arms around you.

NANAMI KENTO + MISSIONARY; You can laugh, but you will cry the second he slides in. Nanami lifts your legs, draping them over his shoulders and kissing your ankles as he drives into you, holding your jaw to keep your eyes on him. "Can you feel me, sugar?" He asks, letting go of your face to lay his large palm flat on your lower stomach. "Can you feel me moving inside you?" Oh, yes, yes you can. On a rough day— well, he loves to see how much he can push your legs closer to your chest, fold you in half as he fucks you into oblivion. His eyes will see everything, admire how your breasts bounce and how your back arches, how you grip his forearms and how you scream his name as you cum around his cock.

CHOSO + 69; Poor little angel, if he could live with his head between your thighs, you know he would. Choso moans like a bitch in heat when he eats you, and this position is no exception. He laps at your slick, using his thumb to rub your clit— just like you taught him— and desperately buckles his hips as you take him into your mouth. He wants the best of both worlds but it feels so good his head just becomes a blabbering mess. He is a messy eater, he leaves your thighs sticky with his spit and your slick, and don't get me started on how he will beg to cum on your face. You know you are in for a long ride when he gives you those puppy eyes and says: "Can you sit on my face, please?"

TOJI FUSHIGURO + DOGGY; You saw that coming, I know. He is rough, that's common knowledge. Toji grips your hips and drags you back into his big, fat cock as if he had something against you. He slaps your ass and thighs, even your back if he feels like it. He yanks your hair and says the most foul things. "If you could look at yourself— such a slut for my dick," Which... might be true. He doesn't stop until your pussy is overstimulated and filled with his cum, until your hands give up and he has to hook an arm under your stomach to pull you back up, obviously giving you a hard slap so you remember where you are and what you should be doing. One thing is for sure, he will cum inside every single time.

SUKUNA + COWGIRL; He is a greedy bitch. He wants you to do all the work until you can't no more and he will complain nonstop. He is also the type to slap your ass and thighs, even your face if you stop bouncing on his dick. "Come on, you can do more than that," He laughs, rolling his eyes and leaning down to suck on your nipples. His teeth graze the swollen nub, and he bites down, watching you squirm and feeling your pussy squeeze his cock. "Such a lazy slut, you wanted it so bad, and now you are disappointing me," It comes to a point where he knows it's his turn. He bends his knees and holds your hips, lifting them and fucking you so hard, all you can do is moan and choke on your own words. "Now I have to do all the fucking job, but what's new?"

𓆩⟡𓆪 English isn't my first language. I apologize for any mistakes.