#the third person. that you were talking to

[thecoochiefairy]

nola. onyankopon.

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

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

visual. visual. visual.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh girl, Ashleigh? Yeah—nah.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

….It wasn’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m serious, Ony.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You done preachin’ to me now?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’d never miss it. You know that.”

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

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

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

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

“Onyankopon. I will kill you.”

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

“Onyankopon?”

“Huh?” 

“Get out.”

                                            𝓐ᥫ᭡

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

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

All, except one. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His dark eyes immediately found hers again.

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

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

Of course he would be looking at her. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, Sweetpea!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mhm. You look good as fuck tonight.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe it was time to admit them. 

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

“Aye, fine shit.” 

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

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

“Come dance with me,” he tells her.

“Me?” She blinks.

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

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

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

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

“Girl, come dance! My song is on!”

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

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

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

…Why did he feel some type of way?  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yo’, you’ seen Onyankopon?”

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

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

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

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

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

“If I find him.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Damn, why you smackin’ me?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was a greedy drunk.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Girl gets on all my nerves.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“C’mere.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now that was a question. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Those words sting. A lot. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We’ve both been drinking.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Damn…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Got a nigga thirsty as fuck.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She rolls her eyes, releasing her own small laugh. Her forehead is still pressed against his as she searches his face, seeing the vulnerability he carries in this moment. 

Her voice is small as she calls, “…Ony?”

“Yeah, Mama?” He’s got his fingers playing with the strands of her hair, eyes staring straight into hers, “What you need?”

“You don’t have to say you like me back if you really don’t…” her voice is soft, “I just—don’t want anything to feel forced…”

It’s almost painful how hesitant she looks in this moment, and he can’t help but narrow his eyes as if insulted. 

“You still deaf as fuck in one ear, huh?” His mouth is back to hovering over her face, lips inches from hers,  “I want you.”

She hears his voice—she listens. Nodding her head, she pulls him back into a gentle kiss, lowering her hand as she tugs at the belt on his jeans. Her mouth pulls back as she feels his fingers intertwine in her palms, pressing her hand back onto the bed.

“Hold up,” he murmurs as he pulls back, “I don’t want it like this—a nigga was just hungry and wanted to make you feel good. Couldn’t help but eat that pretty ass pussy. C’mon,” he gently smacks her ass, “You’ got a game tomorrow.”

She flinches a bit at his words, “Your mouth is bad,” ignoring the flush that returns in her face. She frowns a bit at his rejection, but she can also appreciate the wait. 

She hides the frown as she asks, “��Are you staying here?” 

“You need to ask if I’m stayin’ here? Where else am I gon’ go? A nigga ain’t finna’ leave after what we just did.”

Her vulnerability is still there. She glances around his face before she shakes her head, “Sorry.” 

She pulls him into another soft kiss, “You wanna come shower with me?”

“You gotta stop apologizin’ to me, Sweetpea. Shit is irritating.”

She scrunches her face up, “Okay, nigga. I’m just making sure. Actually, you ain’t gotta shower with me!” 

She stands from the bed with her arms crossed, unable to hide her giggle as he yanks her back towards him. 

“Stop playing,” he gruffly mutters, arms wrapping around her smaller frame, nudging a kiss on her throat, “C’mon. I’ll braid yo’ hair up for the game tomorrow.”

She had to surpass the embarrassment of bathing with him, already beneath the shower head as he removed his clothes. Her eyes trail down to his sculpted frame, the ink on his pelvic, glancing at the monster that slaps along his belly button, hanging between his legs. 

But even in this steamy environment—It’s sweet, a different Onyankopon that she’d never seen. He stands behind her as he sensually washes her body, trailing kisses against her skin, washing her hair in a way that feels loving. From sitting on the floor with him as he braids her hair back for her game the next day, to her face against his chest as he snored above her. She was in love with this man. 

When the next morning comes, her eyes open to find that she was by herself in the bed. She doesn’t know why she becomes a bit worried. But as her eyes find his chain against her dresser, a sticky note beside it reads—

‘COACH CALLED FOR A MEETING. LEFT MY CHAIN SO I HAD A REASON TO COME BACK.’ 

A small smile comes to her lips at that. Her attention is pulled as she hears her door open, her cousin Peanut leaning into the frame with a raised eyebrow. 

Sweetpea scratches her head as she gives an awkward smile, “Uh…hey.” 

“Hey. He’s gone I see,” Peanut crosses her arms over her chest, “You two finally did it, huh?”

“No, no. We didn’t. Um—“

She hesitates a bit, “We just…slept off the alcohol,” she shrugs.

“Right. So, is that why he left his chain on your dresser?”

She glances at the dresser before looking back to her cousin, “Girl, shut up. You’ wanna go hoop for a little?”

Peanut snickers, moving out of the door frame, “You know I do. Come on, it’ll be a fun way to blow off your hangover.”

Onyankopon was grown, but why was she so worried when the entire day almost went by, and she hadn’t heard from him? 

Her and Peanut practiced for a while, got food, even stopped at another teammate's dorm. Nothing. She’d called him twice with no answer, and hadn’t seen him on campus. She walks back towards her dorm with Peanut, sighing as she glances back down to her phone. 

“This nigga better come get his chain before I throw it out,” she mutters in irritation. 

Peanut chuckles, walking beside her as she says, “Clinging onto him already? It’s cute. Y’all my couple goals or whatever!” 

Sweetpea rolls her eyes, “What if everything last night was just in the moment, Peanut? He was just fuckin’ with Ashleigh not too long ago.”

“Ain’t no nigga leaving his chain at your place if he doesn’t like you. Y’all have known each other for years, Pea. He likes you.”

“Yeah, he likes a lot of bitches. Including Ms. Big Booty Hoe,” she reminds.

Peanut shoves her cousin in the shoulder 

as they reach the dorm, pushing her key into the knob as she says, “You really gon’ let your doubt ruin a good thing? Pussy.” 

Sweetpea raises an eyebrow, “Pussy? Rude—”

When she opens the door to their dorm, they both halt. It’s a nightmare if Sweetpea had a word for it. Their eyes come into focus on Onyankopon on the couch, Ashleigh along his lap, his varsity jacket on her shoulders as her lipstick smears against his cheek. The both of them have a look on their face as if they didn’t expect to be caught— but there’s not enough time to process anyone’s expression. 

Onyankopon was already standing to explain himself, while Sweetpea is lunging forward, her body being caught by her cousin who wraps an arm around her chest to stop her. She practically sees red.

His jaw tenses as he sees her ready to swing, “You’ finna hit me?”

She jerks in her cousins hold, “I’ll hit you and your hoe,  nigga! I never gave a fuck— Are you serious?” 

“Who are you calling a hoe?” Ashleigh frowns, stepping forward herself, Onyankopon pulling her back.

“Bitch, you!” 

It took a lot to get Sweetpea out of character. She’s not even listening to what he has to say, ready to throw hands with the girl on the couch, and him.  

“Chill the fuck out, Pea,” he warns,  “It’s not even like that.”

“Not like that? It looks like you was finna’ fuck a bitch in my dorm!” She exclaims, “How the fuck else does it look? I should really smack the shit out of you!”

"I said it ain’t even like that, Pea!” he defends, “I called her to get my jacket. That’s all.”

“So why the bitch on your lap?” She frowns, “You think I’m stupid as fuck? Fuckin’ lipstick on your face and shit,” she mushes his face with her palm, unfazed by his glare, “You got the bitch in my dorm—my dorm!”

She hates that there’s angry tears in her eyes, being held even tighter by her cousin, not even focused on the fact that Ashleigh still stands within the room.

"I swear to fuckin’ god bro—It ain’t what it looks like, but you also not finna’ hit me, Pea,” he warns with a step forward, “You need to calm your ass down and let me explain!”

“Nigga—fuck you!” She mushes his face again, “And this bitch! Y’all fuckin’ deserve each other! I hope you know that she was fuckin’ yo’ friend Rashaud last night after that party while you letting the bitch on your lap!” 

Her words are sharp, angry, but overall hurt. She’d never planned to admit her feelings to Onyankopon in fear that they’d get thrown back in her face—here it was. 

A look comes along his face, as if he was genuinely surprised to hear this information. He has no time to even process that, before he hears Ashleigh go off, “That ain’t your business to be telling, bitch!”

When Sweetpea goes to swing at this girl, Peanut is the one to dismiss the chaos within the room, fully pulling her cousin back to stop this from becoming worse. 

“Y’all need to chill the fuck out before the RA hears this bullshit. Onyankopon, you should’ve never brought Ashleigh to our dorm, no matter what the fuck was going on. And you need to get the fuck out. I don’t have any issue with jumping you in this hoe,” Peanut threatens Ashleigh.

Ashleigh sneers, “Fuck all of y’all,” throwing the jacket on the sofa—but she doesn’t leave before giving Sweetpea the finger, moving quick as the girl continues to struggle under her cousins hold.

When Sweetpea brings her eyes back to Onyankopon, there’s less anger in her face. She pushes out of Peanut’s hold as she shuts her emotions down in that exact moment.

“I have a game later—I don’t have time for this shit.” 

To see her go from that vulnerability he always chased, showing him a completely different side of her—to this. It was like nothing had changed between them. 

“Pea—“

She slams her door, leaving the both of them outside. That was the end of it. At least for now. 

                                        𝓐ᥫ᭡

TWO MINUTES LEFT IN THE GAME. The court was where she belonged, but her mind was elsewhere. Her eyes tried their best to pull away from him as he was in the bleachers, watching her every move like he always did. That would never change. But she wasn’t in her element tonight. She’d been missing plays, dropping the ball, foul after foul. 

It got to the point where seconds were in the last quarter, and as she took the opportunity to throw the ball into the hoop, she watched as it completely missed, her eyes trailing over to the audience that watched with expressionless faces. 

The game ends, her teammates looking at her, Peanut’s expression filled with worry—it was all wrong. As the other team jumped around and cheered for their win, Sweetpea walked over to the bench as she sat herself down, dropping her face into her jersey as she cried. Frustrated with herself, frustrated with this entire day.

Onyankopon watches her shoulders shake beneath her jersey. He wants nothing more than to comfort her, but he knows that will only drive the knife deeper. So he sits there, watching in silence as her teammates pat her on the back, offering their support as their coach talks to them, scolding Sweetpea for her performance. 

He had to fix this.

A couple of days had gone by. Sweetpea had trapped herself within her dorm for the weekend, just wanting to get her mind together for the next week. She wanted her mind to be blank— but all she could think about was how having a childhood crush got her into this entire situation. She sits against her bed with one of her textbooks open, body swallowed under her oversized graphic tee and hair sprawled around her face, just freshly showered from bed rotting. 

Her eyes glance up to her door peeking open as Peanut appears, “You’ gonna be good before I head out?”

“I’m good, Peanut,” she brushes off, “Where you’ going?”

“Just to a party,” she replies from the doorway, “You sure you don’t want to come? Might cheer you up, you know? Get your mind off everything.” 

Peanut's brown eyes move from her cousin towards the floor as she sighs, “…I’m worried about you, Pea.“

“I’m good,” she repeats, “I just…wanna take some time to myself. I got exams to study for—go have fun for me, okay? Send me pictures,” she gives a weak smile, dropping the pen in between her fingers.

She can tell that Sweetpea was lying, but she wasn’t going to force her to go.

“Okay,” she says softly, taking a few steps back, “Call me if you need anything.”

She gives her a wave as she shuts the door. She wasn’t necessarily lying, she did want time to herself— But that didn’t mean the solitude wasn’t lonely. 

Her TV was extremely low within its volume setting as she studied. But as she continued to highlight important sections, her attention was caught by the sound of music coming from outside. It’s a familiar song, loud enough that it’s coming from someone’s car, disturbing her studying. If it was bothering her, it definitely bothered others within the complex. 

She takes a breath as she pushes herself off the bed, fuzzy socks along the ground as she pulls the blinds of the window to peek outside. And when she does—she’s in for something. 

Her eyes watch as Onyankopon is standing on the grass across from her window below, Can We Talk by Tevin Campbell playing loudly with all the windows down on his car, his arms out as he serenades her. Her mouth drops open.

He’s never felt like more of a dumbass than in this moment. Yelling out a love song in the middle of the afternoon just to get a girl to talk to him again. He didn’t care that people were recording him, beginning to open their windows in shock—all he had on his mind was the window to Sweetpea’s dorm.  He just hoped it didn’t take her long to open it.

She panics as she pulls her blinds up, opening the actual window as she leans out, “Onyankopon, what the hell are you doing?!”

“The hell it look like?!” he calls out to her, “You’ been avoiding me! You said you wanted a nigga to serenade you!”

“Onyankopon,” her mouth drops open a bit, “You cannot be serious right now!”

“I’m dead serious!” he snaps back, “You won’t talk to me, won’t answer my texts, and don’t answer when I call!” He points his finger up at the dorm, “Get your ass down here before I start doing choreography like New Edition!”

He’s back to singing, people yelling out from their windows, irritated with the interruption he causes. Her mouth drops even lower at this, and to avoid her RA blaming her for this entire mess, she slips on her house shoes as she darts downstairs, opening the double doors of her dorm to see him now standing across from her.

“Can you stop?!” She throws her arm out, wanting him to cut the music playing out of his car, “If I get reported I’m turning your ass loose on this grass!”

“Now see? That’s all you had to do.” 

His arms lower as he moves around the front of the car, cutting the music off, “You was’ up there studying?”

She crosses her arms over her chest, “Make your point quick as fuck, Onyankopon. Otherwise I’m going back upstairs.”

“Aight, look—You’ been blowing me off because of a dumb ass fight—That ain’t right, Sweetpea. You can’t just ignore a nigga you care about.” 

“Good thing I don’t care, hm?” She raises an eyebrow, attempting to close the door, eyes narrowing as he locks his fingers against the handle.

"Bullshit. I know you better than that, Pea. You’ the type of girl to care.”

“And you the type of nigga to sweeten your way through anything,” she fires back, “Look, man. I gotta finish studying. Are you done?”

“Why you gotta shut me out, Pea? Why ‘you mad at me for caring about you? I know it was my fault, but you didn’t even let me talk to you about it.” 

He’s still gripping onto the door, not letting her close it on him. 

“Why you’ gotta make things difficult for me? Can’t I love your ass without you avoiding me on some bullshit?”

The word love echoes through her mind. She blinks as she’s thrown off a bit, searching his face through the black sweatshirt and Nike sweatpants he wears, his muscular frame silhouettes beneath it. 

Her eyes pull up as she hears a random person from their window, “Talk to that nigga so y’all can stop disturbing the entire complex, niggas is sleep and studying!” 

She brings her eyes back to him, contemplating for a moment. She sighs as she rolls her eyes, opening the door into the hallway of the dorms as she says, “Just hurry up and come in.”

He’s a bit relieved that she finally lets him in, shutting the door gently behind himself as soon as he steps into the girls’ dormitory. It’s weird to feel so awkward with her—he’s never felt so off with someone since he was in grade school.

She closes the door to her bedroom, turning towards him as she states, “You’ got five minutes, Onyankopon. Say what you need to say.”

She looks cute as hell in her fuzzy socks and oversized shirt, her hair sprawled around, falling past her shoulders. He has to make a conscious effort of looking into her eyes instead of staring at the way her shirt hides her curves.

He frowns, “Five minutes? That ain’t enough.”

“And now you have four.”

He takes a seat on the edge of her bed, looking around at the mess of textbooks and papers spread out along with her comforter. He’s quiet for a few seconds as he runs his hands over his face, finally looking up at her with a look of sincerity. 

“I’m sorry.”

“For?” 

“For hurting you.”

He can’t stand that she’s not looking at him as she moves things from the bed, so he stands back up, taking a few steps until he’s standing behind her.

“You ain’t even finna’ look at me?”

She sighs, halting herself as she gives him her undivided attention, “Yeah, okay. You hurt me, Onyankopon. The sky is also still blue. You’ saying shit I’m already aware of.”

“You’ still don’t have anything to say after ignoring me all week? I’d rather you be ready to swing.”

“Swing on you? I only wanted to do that because I was mad. I’m not a bitch who’s gonna keep playing around with you. I’ve known you for years, and you gave me the courage to feel like I could finally admit how I felt about you—How I’ve always felt. But you were too busy worrying about the next bitch, so it was easier to just be cool on you. You then say you feel the same, eat my pussy, and then I catch you with a bitch on your lap the very next day. Tell me, what would you have thought?” She questions, raising an eyebrow.

He can’t deny that she’s right about everything she said, but he never meant to hurt her this much. There was no excuse for what he did, and he’d rather have her scream than give him nothing. 

“You’ right,” he says after a few seconds of silence, “You’ completely right. But it wasn’t like that. I was on the way back to come see you—I asked Ashleigh to come bring my jacket back, and I was gonna end shit with her. She tried to make a move, and y’all walked in as I was tryna put her out.”

She searches his face, seeing that he looked to be telling the truth. He doesn’t add too many excuses or go into detail the way he would if he was lying. 

She then says, “Even if you were just tryna’ end shit with her, you know the bitch doesn't like me like that. You could’ve met her somewhere else on campus. Meet her at your dorm. It wasn’t cool to bring her here. And you’re grown as fuck, it should’ve never got far enough for her to be in your lap.”

“Yeah,” he replies, “Yeah, I know. I wasn’t thinking straight, and I wasn’t thinking about how it would look to you when you saw it. I can’t take it back, but I can apologize for it. For real—Alana, I love you.”

Hearing her government name fully throws her off. She’s visibly taken back as her arms fall from being crossed, pointing out, “You said you loved me earlier before you walked in. I figured you just meant that you liked me a lot.”

“Nah,” he says firmly, stepping even closer until he’s towering over her again, “I do love you. Hell—I think I have since the moment I met you. I was too busy being dumb and running through bitches because I couldn’t accept that I found someone that actually meant something to me. And I kept telling myself it was just a childhood crush that didn’t mean anything. But it ain’t.”

Sweetpea was unfortunately a softy. Her heart did in fact swell at his words, and something in her became extremely happy to confirm it had always been this way between them. She blinks for a couple of seconds, taking a step forward as she places a hand on his jaw, facial hair smooth beneath her fingers. 

“I’m…I’m sorry for overreacting. I just didn’t want to be hurt again. I’ve—loved you for a long time, and I don’t play about my feelings. I wanted them to mean something if I ever admitted them, and at that moment…they didn’t.”

His body visibly relaxes when he sees her softening—especially when he can feel the warmth of her palm against his face.

“Your feelings do mean something. Never think that they didn’t. I promise I’m never gonna hurt you again. I’m done running from you. I’m done being dumb as fuck. I’m yours.” 

The swell of her heart thumps against her chest at his words. It makes her gently tug at his jaw to pull him down, close enough for their lips to touch as she suppresses her smile, “Say it again.”

He can’t help the smirk that appears on his face when he hears her, pulling in even closer to where their noses brush against each other’s. 

“I’m yours, Sweetpea,” he repeats in a deep tone, “A nigga is in love with your mean ass.”

A soft giggle releases from her lips, her face warm at his words. She sighs a bit as his mouth is close, feeling her breath shuddering the same way it did the night before. 

She sighs, “I love you too, Onyankopon.”

His smirk grows even bigger when he hears her finally say the exact words he’d been dying to hear, the feeling of her hot breath against his mouth driving him crazy. He leans himself even closer as she grunts, “I’m missing your mouth bad as fuck.”

This felt like the right moment. 

“So kiss me,” her voice is small, but something equally stirs within her. She wants him just as bad. 

When he leans himself closer, he lets their lips just barely touch, pulling a breathy whimper from her mouth. She couldn’t hide the need she had for him anymore.

He’s tempted to go even slower and draw the moment out, but that sound against his mouth raises a grunt out of him, roughly locking their lips together. She has to bring her arms over his shoulders to balance herself, taking in a sharp breath as his tongue laps within her mouth, effortlessly lifting her feet off of the ground to travel towards the bed.

 When she makes contact with the comforter, her body kneels below him as he stands. She pulls her lips back as her low eyes travel, grazing her fingers down his torso, meeting with the strings of his sweatpants as she pulls at them.

 “…Can I?”

“Go ‘head,” his eyes are equally low, knocking down to watch her.

She can see his bulge from beneath the material as she pulls it down, being met with his dark pink tip, heavy as it slaps along his stomach. Her small fingers wrap around the base of him as her eyes flutter up, adjusting herself as she places her tongue along the tip, giving it a kiss. His spine tingles at that. She’s already wrapping her full lips around him, beginning to gently nudge her head back and forth, steadying her pace to become more comfortable. 

He groans, the sound rumbling deep in his chest as she takes him into her mouth, eyes rolling back slightly at the sensation of her warm, wet tongue gliding along his length. One of his hands comes up to thread through her hair, gripping it lightly as he guides her movements, “Suck that shit however you want to, baby. Just tryna’ help you.”

She feels nervous about her performance. Continuously adjusting her body in a way that makes her hips sway, her back arching as her curls fall around her face and forehead, Sweetpea opens her mouth wider as she drags her head back and forth, allowing his tip to rock against the back of her mouth. Saliva begins to collect at the sides of her reddening lips as she whines softly against him, twisting her head to take him even deeper.

His grip on her hair tightens, guiding her head further down as he thrusts upwards, hitting the back of her throat with a low growl, "Fuck...that's it, Mama." 

He watches her struggle a bit to breathe around him considering his hefty girth, the sight making his dick twitch. She becomes more comfortable by the second, folding her lips more inward as she tightens her mouth, beginning to suck him more towards her throat, creating a wet sound within the room. The walls of her cheeks clamp down against him, coaxing him in each time he pulls halfway out.

"Shit, baby. You’ tryna have me nut in that pretty ass mouth," he says, voice thick with lust. He starts fucking her face harder, holding her head still as he goes in and out, watching her throat constrict around him with each thrust. The wet sounds fill the room, accompanied by her muffled whimpers. 

He reaches forward as he smacks her ass, “Look at you, takin' every inch like a fuckin’ pro. All that fuckin’ mouth, let’s see if you taking dick like that.”

He pulls himself out until his tip hovers along her lips, saliva connected in between the two, her tongue flat against the top as her breath huffs out a sultry giggle. She drags her tongue on the outside of his dick, reaching down as she laps his balls from beneath, eyes still fluttering to stare up at him. She ached for him. 

Something in him becomes irritated at the sight— she looks ethereal, a haunting siren within his mind that dragged him in. He grunts, “You’ nasty as fuck.”

Sweetpea lightly gasps as he turns her the opposite way, pressing her stomach against the sheets while pulling her hands behind her back. Her body jolts as she feels him spank her again, hips arching up as his mouth lowers back down to meet with the entirety of her, sucking her clit in between his lips. She clutches his hand within the fingers he holds, face along the sheets of the bed as she moans softly, beginning to rub her pussy along his face.

He goes in between lapping at her folds while sucking on her clit, flicking it with his tongue as his beard scrapes her sensitive skin. He groans, feeling her juices coating his chin already.

“Needy ass fuckin’ girl,” he spanks her again, “Ride my face slow as fuck. I need a mess in my beard,” He commands, taking his palms against the cheeks of her ass, pacing a torturous rhythm to circle her hips in the air, his mouth catching her pussy back on his tongue.

 That slurping sound returns, her teeth digging into her lip, hair falling over her face as she softly moans and whines against him, arching her hips nonetheless.

His hands slide up her thighs, gripping her waist firmly as he tugs her down onto his face, tongue delving deeper inside as his nose buries into her ass. 

“Need you soakin’ before I go in,” His words are muffled against her flesh, the vibrations sending shivers through her body as he continues to eat her out recklessly. But she’s wet, so wet that she couldn’t have been more ready. He could tell she’s holding back, moans soft, tiny. He needed a symphony.

His tip is nudging in between her folds, feeling heavy even on the outside of her pussy. It makes her adjust her body as he holds her down with one palm, keeping her body arched to perfection. She then knocks her head to the side, eyes locked into his as she watches him—it was like all time had slowed. 

Her wet folds spread apart as her walls began molding around his tip, gripping the flesh and pulling him in inch by inch. Her walls feel swollen, aching as he goes in, fluttering before gripping back around the weight of his girth. She was entirely full, so full that she looked back at him with a pout, whimpering as her back arched through the discomfort, dragging herself forward to pull away. He somehow manages to catch a lock of her hair as he grunts, “Don’t do all that, you better take this fuckin’ dick like you was before,” which makes her deeply gasp, trembling out a whine as his balls slap along her clit, ass clapping along his hips as he’s fully inside. He pulls halfway out before he sinks back in again, a waft of air pushing out her pussy, making a loud squelching sound as her eyes roll to the back of her head, “Oh fuck, Ony…”

“Keep that fuckin’ arch,” he grunts, her inner walls squeezing him like a vice, “I’m stretching your shit, huh? I know, Mama," He taunts, pulling her back again, another gust of air spouting out, her pussy sobbing at this point. 

It’s dripping all against his balls, she’s wetter than she’s ever been. He begins dropping her down onto his dick slowly, but his thrusts are hard, each stroke hitting her g-spot dead-on as he pounds her mercilessly.

Her mouth is parted open yet nothing comes out for a while, just feeling the pained-pleasure that vibrates her entire body. It feels good, so fucking good that she’s practically paralyzed—and they’d only just started. 

She finally has enough oxygen within her chest to be vocal, her hair falling in front of her face with each stroke, pouting even more as she breathily pants, “All in my pussy, baby…” she doesn’t know where that sentence comes from, but it’s needy, as if she meant every word—She did. 

He keeps up that exact pace as her walls tighten second by second, slowly pounding as her needy plea hangs heavy in the air. 

“Yeah?" He coos, slapping her ass to gain her attention—even if he already had it, “You’ feeling that shit, huh?”

She tries to stop her eyes from rolling back each time her skin sticks to his, the sound in the room like a gunshot going off every few seconds. She sinks her teeth back into her lip as she nods her head, the agreement dragging itself in a prolonged harmony, turning into a chaotic moan of, “I feel you, Ony…I feel it…”

Onyankopon grins sexily like the bastard he is at her submission, seeing the raw vulnerability in her expression. He’s pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in, his balls smacking her clit with each brutal thrust. 

He can feel her walls becoming extremely tight, her whines growing louder—he’s starting to learn her body. He releases her hands which allows her to drop them onto the sheets, reaching around to clutch his fingers in between her throat and jaw. He’s picking up the rhythm of his hips, the comparison of gunshots sounding off as if he’d added more magazines, faster, harder.

“Open my pussy up,” he grunts, “You ain’t finna’ cum and be done. Better wait for me.”

But she can’t wait. Between the sound of his voice, the way her ass just drops, drops, drops to meet his dick, her tongue nearly lolls out, drooling as she can feel herself being fucked stupid. Her mind has never been so blank, which makes the words that come out so air-head like, she’s babbling.

“I’m cumming,” she whimpers with a gasp, still being dropped down all the while, turning her head back to face him, tears falling from her eyes in such a rush of pleasure. She has a death grip against the sheets, clawing with her nails as she whines, “I love you, Onyyy… I’m cumming…”

Her walls are fluttering like crazy—Onyankopon’s eyes drop down to see a beautiful coat of white being painted more and more on his dick each time he pulls back out, the arousal splatting against her skin with each stroke. 

“You love me, Mama?” He tightens his fingers on her throat, her orgasm spinning her in circles as she trembles, “Mhmmmm.”

“That’s why you creamin’ on my shit like that? Cause you love me?”

She softly cries, “Cause I love you,” her entire body shuddering, eyes white as they’re in the back of her head.

He tightens his hold on her throat further, cutting off some of her airflow. The pressure causes her climax to prolong, her pussy spasming wildly around his dick.

"Love me so much you drenchin' my dick?" He growls, watching the thick stream of her juices coating his shaft, "You gon’ milk my nut dry?”

“Yeah,” she sniffles, “Yes, baby…”

“Come bounce on this dick. That’s how you’ finna cum again.”

She could’ve collapsed at this moment, her body exhausted—he’s pulling her onto his lap, placing her feet flat against the bed, arching her hips up as he’s already sinking her back down. He intertwines their fingers together to hold her up, rocking his hips up for her to catch the rhythm he wants. She’s a whimpering mess as she complies, swirling her hips down, grinding herself in a sloppy choreography.

He takes advantage of her vulnerable state, gripping her hips tightly as he begins pounding up into her. Each thrust sends her breasts bouncing and her ass jiggling.

"You' cummin' again," He growls, his own release beginning to build, “Keep riding my shit like that.”

He's not wrong, her pussy is clamping down on him like a trap, and her entire body is in complete shambles.

She places her hands along his chest, running her fingers across his tattoos as she leans herself forward, rocking her hips down, bouncing just like he wanted—of course, her curls fall on her face, the annoying habit of having to blow them out the way pulls a low chuckle from Onyankopon.

 She whimpers to him, “Don’t laugh, Ony…”

His chuckle subsides as quickly as it came, his expression turning serious once more. He grips her hips tighter, his strokes becoming harder and faster. She’s louder, attempting to keep up with him. 

"Don't worry 'bout nothin', Mama. Just ride my dick," He commands, his breathing heavy and labored. Seeing her above him, hair cascaded along her freckled face, her soft sounds—she’s so pretty to him.

Onyankopon’s arms wrap along her lower back as he sits up beneath her, guiding her hips down to connect with his.  She pulls him into a kiss, holding his face to consume his affection, her face splashed with previous pleasured tears,  whispering to him in a tiny gasp, “I—I love you s—somuch, O—Ony…”

His entire body was sensitive to every one of her touches. Feeling like a teenager all over again while they make out, he grunts her name against their mouths, “Alana…” 

He feels how easily she moves her hips, rolling them in sync with his movements to send waves of pleasure through them, groaning between their hot kisses, “I love you…fuck…I do…”

She wraps her arms around his neck as she presses her face into his shoulder, nails digging against his skin as she gasps, “I’m—mmph, I—“ she’s gasping, unable to finish as pleasure raptures her entire body again, all the way down to her feet, muscles aching from the constriction.

She’s tight—he can feel every inch of her warmth as he groans in response to the arch of her back, “Goddamn…” 

His hands travel down her body until they’re both on her hips, guiding them as he bucks up into her, slowly moving her in the same motion, “…Take your time, baby. I’m finna’ bust…You’ cumming?”

She hiccups, nodding her head feverishly as she holds onto him, dragging her fingers up to his head as she grips there, moaning in a high pitched way as she warns, “I’m c—cumming,” closing her eyes as she brings her hips down faster, “O—oh my god—agh…”

Her voice makes his eyes roll back into his head as he holds onto her hips, bucking his own up more to help her reach the peak, “Shit, I ain’ never wanted be nowhere but right here with you. I’m finna’ bust, baby, I—ohhh…f-fuck, Pea…I love you...so much,” his words are broken into short moans as he holds onto her, pulling her as close as they both release together, a symphony of affection turning into an orchestra, filled with emotions they’d had for one another all along.

She keeps her face within his shoulder as she breathes heavily, still holding onto him as her orgasm subsides. The moment her eyes do come up, she can see the last thing she wanted to envision—that damn smirk on his mouth. 

She presses her face into his chest as she grumbles, “Don’t, Onyankopon. I swear to god.”

He grunts as her head presses against him, but a smirk appears all the same, chuckling under his breath as he reaches up to scratch at her scalp. 

“Pussy is good as fuck,” he huffs, Sweetpea jumping as she feels his palm slam down on her ass.

She brings her eyes up, “You could’ve said something romantic—yet that’s what you say.”

“I’ll let you hear them’ three words a thousand more times before the nights over, crybaby.”

She pulls herself off of him as she lays against the bed, pressing herself against the pillow as she feels her eyes becoming heavy. Her hair brushes over her face, uncaring of her body being bare under the night light as she sighs, “Mmm, shut up. Lemme’ sleep.” 

She can hear him shuffling before his weight comes off of the bed, her body not moving as she mutters, “You’ leaving me? Was all that a lie and you really don’t wanna be with me?”

He’s standing over her, watching the way her body just seems to fit against the sheets effortlessly, her curves like an invitation to come back onto the bed with her. 

“Damn, a nigga can’t move without you thinking I’m tryna’ leave? I’m hungry.”

She smacks her lips, turning her face over to meet the wall as she grumbles, “Whatever, lyin’ ass. Get out.”

“I guess that means you don’t want tacos then.”

Her eyes peek open at that. She turns her head a bit as she says, “Them’ birria tacos from the corner?”

“And horchata.”

“Nevermind—You’ cool…or whatever.”

“You gon’ have that ass tooted up for me when I get back?”

“Onyankopon?”

“Huh?”

“Get the fuck out.”

His smirk reappears before he shuts the door behind himself, “Love you too, Mama.”

[once-upon-a-time-the-end]

Just to correct a few things in this post based on this NPR article from December

The first three photos are from the day of the shooting according to news and NYPD. The left photo is CCTV of the shooting, middle photo of suspect escaping on bike, and third photo is supposedly from a Starbucks just before the shooting. Supposedly, they have the suspect's fingerprint from something there.

Second set of photos, however, is from about 10 days prior, taken from CCTV at the hostel that they think the suspect was staying at when he briefly pulled down his mask to speak to the lobby employee.

There are other photos from taxi cabs that are reported out there that are UNDATED. NYPD thinks that the suspect took a cab from the park where they supposedly found the backpack seen in the first 3 photos to a bus station uptown.

My speculation:

It's possible those taxi photos were from that period. However, why switch to a surgical mask from the buff seen the third photo? Also, the jacket in the first photos seems markedly different from the one in the taxi photos in both texture and style.

The the third photo seems, to me, least like Luigi's face. I could see the photos from the second set as being Luigi. I know people have talked about 'unibrow' but the photos are blurry, and I just think it COULD be him. Not that it is. For me, it's that third photo from the Starbucks that does not look like him as much as the others. To me, the nose seems thinner, brows slightly further apart, not as distinctively dark/full lashes. Obviously, it's at an upward angle so it's hard to tell. They couldn't even use facial recognition from any of these photos to identify this person.

Allegedly, Luigi was arrested with fake IDs, the 3D printed 9mm gun that matched the shell casings, and a three-page letter or manifesto. I have a lot of doubt about some of these findings, and would not be surprised if they were planted at all.

There's also the two different backpacks. It's possible the suspect had two different backpacks, but for someone traveling and staying in a hostel, that seems like a strange choice. They did not report anything about any items or luggage left behind and the suspect had allegedly arrived there 10 days prior. I'm a very light traveler, but 10 days worth of clothes, multiple jackets, multiple backpacks? Do they know if he went to a laundromat? And then, after committing so premeditated of a crime, to just leave stuff behind that could potentially identify you?

In my brief search, I did not see confirmation of the path the suspect took from the hostel to the hilton—just the path of the supposed escape. All I saw is that they believed he stopped at that Starbucks, ambushed the CEO at 6.44am, and then escaped on bike.

Could Luigi be the shooter? Possibly. It's also possible that he could have just been staying there, too. But I'm skeptical of several factors. Obviously, the police aren't making every piece of their case available to the public, so I don't think we'll be able to say one way or another whether the facts support Luigi's guilt or innocence.

That being said, I will add for absolutely no reason whatsoever:

Jury Nullification.

Reminder.

This is what the shooter looks like.

Gray jacket. Light gray backpack.

This is what the apparent suspect looked like the same day at Starbucks.

Green/brown jacket and black back pack

Notice lack of unibrow.

Luigi day of arrest.

Unibrow present and stubble on face/neck.

Why is this important? Because Starbucks guy doesn't have those.

Which leads me to perp walk luigi.

"Oh they must have a great barber lmaooo" no. Stop joking for a second. No one gets this treatment so why him? Because they are trying to make him look like the Starbucks perp. They think we are dumb and will forget shooter Mcgee doesn't look anything like Starbuck boy.

Luigi said evidence was planted on him like the gun and the manifesto.

I believe this because the manifesto praises the efforts of the policemen on like page one. Like they couldn't even not suck their own dicks for 3 seconds to plant compelling evidence.

Do not let these people fool you. Luigi did not do this. Even though it's funny, even though he's hot even though <insert myriad of excuses I've heard here>. Do not let them get away with brainwashing you into believing he did it even if you agree with what happened.

I'm pro UHC shooter.

I'm pro luigi being released because hes innocent.

[nerdlvr]

✩ BDILF ; noun (boyfriend's dad i'd like to fuck)

(MDNI)

smut , dilf jaemin x reader , boyfriend's dad jaemin , age gap , both consenting adults btw , manhandling , pussy eating , juicy pussy , degrading kink , mocking , jaemin talking in third person , raw no lube no condom , lots of dirty talk , petnames , he loves laughing at u , choking/gaggin? , insane backshots , he's better than ur bf , requested here ! , lmk if i missed anything

"you smell like sex."

you shivered as you felt him get close to you, his breath soft against your ear.

"w-what are you talking about?" your grip on the counter was tight, knuckles turning white as you held your breath.

his low chuckle rang throughout the kitchen, his hands gently running along your hair, "just saying-" his fingers tangled in your hair, tugging lightly so your head tilted back, "if he just fucked you, i don't understand why you're out here getting your own water."

he let go of your hair, instead reaching up towards the open cabinet to grab the cup you had forgotten you were reaching for.

his soft bulge pressed against your ass, the thin shorts you had on leaving nothing to the imagination.

the clink of the cup placed in front of you made you flinch, your attention back on the cup of water you had come out to get.

you watched as his veiny hand gripped the glass, the other reaching to turn on the faucet, collecting the cold water into the cup.

he turned towards you, cup in hand, "drink." he held the cold glass to your lips, his smile soft as his eyes met yours.

he reached his free hand out to cup under your chin, collecting any drops that threatened to spill as you slowly drank the water.

your eyes never left his as the water finished, his thumb quickly replacing the rim of the glass as he swiped across your lips to dry the area.

"good girl. now head to bed- it's late."

.

your body tingled as you walked back into your boyfriend's room, hands rubbing at your bare arms to ease the goosebumps that had formed on your skin.

"baby?" you called out to your boyfriend, his soft snores being the only response.

great. you sat on the edge of the bed, thighs slightly pressing together as you bit your lip. what to do, what to do?

you had planned to come back to your boyfriend, asking him to fuck you again, hopefully making you cum this time, as you thought of his insanely attractive dad calling you his good girl.

but instead he was fast asleep, lips slightly twitching as he entered dreamland. if he were awake, would he even be able to fulfill your sick little fantasy? the simple answer was no. you had to do something.

.

and that's how you ended up in front of mr. na's door, you voice softly calling out for him.

your breath caught in your throat as the door cracked open, the tall dark haired man peeking through, "oh- it's you-" he opened the door further.

you gulped as you scanned his body, a tight black tank top hugging his body, his cock lazily bobbing in his pajama pants.

your eyes moved up to meet his, "uh- i was going to-"

"you know you can just knock anytime."

you nodded curtly, hands coming behind your back to fidget with your shorts, "y-yeah, i just didn't wanna wake-" you turned your head towards across the hall.

he hummed in understanding a small smirk playing on his lips, "is that right? then come in-" he reached towards your shoulder, warm hand grazing along your arm, "you're gonna catch a cold out there."

.

you stood awkwardly in the center of his room, watching as he let out a grunt, positioning himself comfortably on his desk chair.

his arms spread open, fingers gesturing for you to approach him, "come here princess, tell me what's wrong."

you shuffled towards him, stopping to stand in between his legs, "i don't know why i came actually- i was just- just-" your voice drifted off as his hands came up to rub against your thighs, fingers gently pulling at the fabric of your shorts.

he looked up at you, eyes soft, "is it cold in my son's room?"

your hand came up to play with your lip, a small nod confirming his suspicions.

"you think mr. na can help you get warm?" his hands grazed the bottom of your ass, a slight ache building in between your legs.

you let out a breath, chest rising and falling with nerves, "yes mr. na."

you tried to back away, his arm caging you in as he stood up suddenly, his chest pressed against yours, "sweet girl, he has no idea how to treat you- sit."

he turned you towards his chair, hands softly pushing you down, "it's okay, i'll treat you right hm? will you let me?"

your eyes followed him as he kneeled in front of you, his hands never leaving your thighs, "words baby- use your words."

your breath shuddered as he planted a kiss to your knee, his lips soft and warm, "y-yes mr. na."

he smiled into the next kiss, right in the middle of your thigh, "good girl, lets take these off then okay?" he reached for the band of your shorts, chuckling softly as your hips rose up to help him.

"listen so well my baby-" he kissed along your thighs as he slid your panties down with your shorts, your legs instinctively spreading open in front of him.

"oh wow-" he reached forward to run his finger through your folds, a soft moan leaving his lips as your juices dripped onto the leather seat, "can't believe that fool's over there sleeping when this little pussy is begging to be fucked-"

you whined softly, hips rutting up against his teasing finger, "please mr. na-"

he scooted closer towards your core, breath fanning against your core as he examined you. two of his fingers moved up to spread your folds, juices coating your entire cunt.

"wanna get fucked by your boyfriend's dad that much princess? only mr. na can give you what you want hm?" his smirk was wide as he taunted you, a gentle finger running along your core as he waited for your reply.

"y-yes mr. na- want you to- to- mmnh."

his tongue lapped at your clit, his soft chuckle vibrating along your core as he tasted you. he wasn't like your boyfriend at all, taking his time with your cunt as if it were his last task on earth.

his movements were smooth, almost painfully slow as he swirled his tongue around your heat, sucking up any of your juices that threatened to spill.

you looked down to watch him, his eyes were shut, mouth fully engulfing your core as he brought his arms up to wrap around your thighs, pulling you closer towards his mouth.

"m-mister- oh!"

his tongue moved down to prod at your entrance, a low groan leaving his lips as you gushed on his tongue.

"s-stop i'm gonna-"

he kissed up your core, lips coated in your juices as he stopped to smile up at you, "gonna cum baby? isn't that the point?"

you blushed deeply, hands coming up to cover your face as you shook your head.

"no? why don't you wanna cum angel hm?"

he kissed up your tummy, hands coming up to pull at your wrists so he could see your face.

you bit your lips as you looked at his flushed cheeks, eyes trailing down to his now hard bulge in his pants, "i-"

"oh i see- dirty girls wants to come on nana's cock right?"

you nodded shyly, glossy eyes and pouty lips looking up at the man you had once seen as your father in law, "want your cock so bad mr. na."

he leaned down to plant a soft kiss on your lips, arms wrapping around your waist to pull you off the seat, "whatever princess wants, she gets."

his kisses were persistent, on your lips, your nose, your cheeks, your slick still wet on his lips as he placed them on your skin.

"you're so beautiful-" you turned your face away, feeling your cheeks begin the heat up, "but i need you face down for me- need to fuck this pussy properly."

he gripped your waist softly, turning you around to press you against his bed, your ass sticking up in the air.

"shit- so perfect baby."

you heard him rustle behind you, his pants long forgotten on the floor as he struggled to pull his shirt over his head.

he bundled the shirt in his hand, leaning forward to hold it out in front of your face, "open-" you complied, jaw adjusting uncomfortably as he pressed the fabric into your mouth. "wouldn't want my poor son to hear his girlfriend getting the best dick in her life now would we?"

you grunted against his shirt, eyes squeezing shut as he sunk into your heat, each inch of his length more painful than the last.

"easyy sweet girl-" he ran his hand along your spine, slightly easing your tense figure, "how can i fuck this pretty pussy if you're so damn tight? won't even let me push all the way in."

he wasn't all the way in?

he chuckled as your worried eyes turned to meet his, a soft smile on his lips, "just a little more, i know you can do it- look."

you gasped as he quickly snapped his hips against your ass, your stomach clenching at the sudden fullness.

"see-" he rocked his hips against yours, a mocking laugh leaving his lips as your loud moan was muffled against the fabric of his shirt, "pussy was made for me baby."

all these years you had thought your boyfriend had gotten his horrible bed skills from his father, a sad case of hereditary bad dick, but you were thankfully proven wrong by his insanely big dicked dad, his sharp thrusts almost too good.

"awe poor baby cant even speak- 'ts too much for you hm?" he laughed to himself, hand reaching down to push his shirt farther into your mouth.

"next time when he's not here, i'm gonna have the whole fucking neighborhood hear how much of a slut you are for your boyfriend's daddy."his chuckle rang in your ears as he pistoned his hips into yours, his pace relentless. he leaned down to press his chest against your back, hands moving upward to grip at your shoulders, pulling you back to meet his thrusts.

"no one can treat you this good baby- no one but me." your hair was a mess against the sheets as you nodded dumbly, eyes practically rolling into the back of your head as you felt your orgasm approaching.

his hips were angled perfectly, like he knew the inside of your body, the tip of his cock rubbing right along that sweet patch.

"right there baby, right? can tell by the way you're clenching around me baby- bet it feels so, so good."

his dirty words made your head spin, your teeth practically grinding against the fabric of his tank top. you felt your stomach grow tense, your toes curling tightly as you tapped your foot against the bed, hips drawing inward a you felt your orgasm approach.

you turned your head to press your forehead against the bed, trying to focus on your breathing to avoid screaming your lungs out as you felt your orgasm hit you like a train.

he grabbed your twitching body, his length still sliding along your walls as he hungrily chased his own high.

"just- just a little bit more- fuck, fuck, fuck-"

you released his shirt from your mouth, a loud whine leaving your lips as he slapped his hips against your harshly, his body still as he pressed deep into you, his cum coating your insides.

you both let out a huff, your bodies falling limply onto the bed as you tried to catch your breath.

you felt his strong arm, press down on you, stopping you from turning over, "don't- don't move-"

you laughed softly as he grunted loudly, trying to lift himself up, "i'll get you water- and something to clean you up- don't you dare move."

he got up to walk out of the room, stopping to turn around and check on you.

you were still there laying on his bed, but now giggling as you tried to get under his covers.

"good girl-" he smiled in your direction, "i'll be right back."

[bluem1lls]

HIII REQUESTING A SE-MI FIC AGAINN!! i loved ur last fic sm so so can you do if reader and se-mi were playing mingle and then like readers panicking and is frozen but se-mi grabs them at the last second and when they both survive and reader maybe gives her a kiss on the cheeekk?? :3

✧₊⁺ i'll do it again

se-mi x fem!reader

content: just a short fluff, reader thinks she's about to die, until oh- a pretty girl is saving her?

authors note: thank you for the request and thank u sm for ur love! its short bc during the week i try to write shorter stuff and leave all the long stuff for the weekend but i hope u still like it!

✧₊⁺ you've been trying to stay alive with gi-hun's group. you love them.

✧₊⁺ plus you've found yourself two best friends. jun-hee it's the cutest girl and dae-ho it's the sweetest boy.

✧₊⁺ so when the third game comes, you stay close to all of them. you're confident everyone will live. at least from your group.

until the last round.

✧₊⁺ as you hear the number '2' from the speakers, you turn to look at jun-hee, as she's being dragged by her ex. she screams at you but you tell her to go, you'll be fine. you think?

✧₊⁺ you turn to dae-ho, he's already with gi-hun.

fuck.

was this really your last round?

✧₊⁺ i mean, you could go and look for another person who's alone. you know you could.

but somehow you can't. you're frozen in place.

✧₊⁺ as the seconds pass, tears start filling your eyes.

oh man, you had a life outside this stupid game. why the fuck did you agree to come here?

last seconds.

✧₊⁺ you thought, until someone grabbed your hand and pushed you into a room, closing the door behind her.

✧₊⁺ what the fuck? you're blinking, trying to come out of the shock.

✧₊⁺ "why were you standing there? have a death wish or something?" this girl leans against the door, breathless.

✧₊⁺ you were okay?

what the fuck??

she saved you??

"i-um..t-thank you"

she hummed, her intense gaze fixated on you.

✧₊⁺ huh. you were really pretty.

✧₊⁺ you nervously start laughing.

"i-i don't have a death wish i don't even know why i stood there like an id-"

"it was a joke" she smirked. "its okay, you don't own me an explanation"

✧₊⁺ you sighed as the doors unlocked. sad?? you actually wanted to know more about her...

✧₊⁺ as the game came to the last few rounds, the group managed to survive. you hugged dae-ho and jun-hee while walking to the common room. they kept saying sorry to you but you promised them you were okay.

i mean, a pretty girl saved you, you were definitely okay!

✧₊⁺ your eyes scanned the place looking for her. the way she kept playing with her lip piercing was repeating in your brain.

✧₊⁺ there she was! sorrounded by three boys. she was sitting with her face on her hands.

✧₊⁺ don't go don't go don't go-

"can i talk to you?" i said, looking at her.

her eyes found yours as she smirked.

the guys looking up and down at you. were you talking to their friend? se-mi? like..the bitchy introvert? she wasn't even nice to them.. and they were her friends.

"hm?" she said, tilting her head.

"i wanted to thank you for saving me... i know it was probably to save your own life but.. you know, you could've picked everyone and yet u grabbed me.. so thank you" i walked to her slowly, leaning down to where she was sitting, leaving a soft kiss on her cheek.

✧₊⁺ did a pretty girl just gave her a kiss on the cheek??

✧₊⁺ she's all flustered.. poor baby. you thought she was a fuckgirl? yeah no. here she is, blushy like a horny teenager falling for a pretty girl.

✧₊⁺ "y-yeah.. you're welcome" she replies, trying to play it cool. you turn around and she CANNOT erase that stupid smile out of her face.

✧₊⁺ when you're far enough to not hear them, thanos, nam gyu and min su laugh, making her entire face go even more red.

✧₊⁺ "you guys are fucking dumb" she mumbles, annoyed as they kept teasing her. "at least a girl kissed me, unlike to you virgins" she rolls her eyes.

✧₊⁺ oh yeah, that won't be the last time you're gonna be hearing from her.

you can't just give her a kiss on the cheek and go away.

because now, she wants to feel more of your soft lips.

[mixingandmelting]

Hey so how do you think the bat boys would deal with a reader who makes it very obvious they’re crushing on the batboys? For not serious situations, they’re sweeter and just more in a good mood whenever the boys are around? Blushes a lot around them and the boys don’t have to be talking directly to them? (Crush can talk to the bat boys normally if the situations serious). (Crush has normal conversations with others people. But goes around telling other super hero friends or just normal friends whenever the bat boys is brought up by other people, they think the bat boys are cute. And always hyping them up to their friends/and the batboy friends even when the batboys are there).

Dick:

He’s flattered really. Yes, unfortunately for everyone, he’s quite aware that he’s attractive but it’s not something he often pays attention to. With trying to protect the world and fighting crime 24/7, being attractive is the last of his priority. But when you gush about him- his abilities, ideals, skills, him as a person - he preens. Sure, he’ll get flustered when you go off on how great he is (and how cute which really takes him off guard) despite the fact he’s right there. And of course he covers himself with the good old classic of clearing his throat even though the corner of his lips won’t stop twitching and the blush on his face gets worse by the second. It’s adorable really. You’re so obvious from how you fan over him whenever he’s brought up in conversations and completely burning when it’s just the two of you and all he’s doing is standing next to you. He sometimes struggles to keep his intrusive thoughts to himself, to tease and see if you can possibly flush even more if he were to poke or “accidentally” brush against you. Though, he’s starting to think you’re doing it on purpose and trying to trip him up when you become completely normal when he’s talking about a mission only to go back on talking about how cute and amazing he is to the person next to you (extra kudos to you when you somehow successfully get the other become a fellow Nightwing stan). Still cute though.

Jason:

People often think he’s dense in the romantic field. From being dead to being back alive and being all rough and reckless, all the typical stuff. It’s truly unfortunate (not really) that that’s not the case and he knows you have a crush on him. Like seriously? It’s so obvious, he’s concerned if there are people who can’t tell that you have a crush on him. The problem is that he doesn’t know what warranted it. He knows he’s quite a shot. Perhaps not as much as Dick given his personality and dark humor, but he has charmed plenty of women with his looks. However, being a former crime lord to now a vigilante outlaw isn’t really all that  glorious or something that gets others to swoon over… So yeah, he doesn’t know why you would get all hyped up over him whenever he’s brought up in conversations. Whether he’s there or not, you would rave over him which gets him to do a double take and play with his helmet or muzzle, whichever one he chooses to wear, because suddenly he’s feeling a bit too hot and needs some air to cool his face. All he does is stand next to you and when it’s you and him alone, he sometimes worries how red you get. He won’t lie, seeing you smile more because he’s there makes his heart itch and grin a bit. Plus, he doesn’t mind as much as others would think since you know when to get back to normal and become serious when things are serious.

Tim:

Someone save him. Someone please save him. You have an obvious crush on him and he has no idea what to do. In fact, he didn’t think anyone would possibly develop a crush on him as big as yours. He’s Red Robin and the former third Robin not many people really take note of. Well other than he’s Batman’s former sidekick and also fights crimes like the rest of the Bat family. You, on the other hand, are making it your life mission to tell everyone how incredible he is. Doesn’t matter where, when, and if he’s right there or not. The minute he’s brought up, boom. You’re off describing him in every way possible. Amazing, intellectual. Also what do you mean he’s cute? Since when was he considered cute? A part of him is on to you, wanting to believe this is all a set-up. A prank set up by his friends or family. The other part, he can’t keep a calm facade around you, covering his face with one or both hands to hide the blush that goes down his face to the base of his neck. There’s also lots of fake coughing and clearing his throat involved. Lots, to cover the happy tingles he gets, registering there’s someone who acknowledges his efforts and  talents. It gets worse and he gets even more conscious when you’re matching his expression when the two of you are alone. He’s grateful that at least you’re back to normal when things are going down at least. 

Duke:

Okay. Wow. You have a crush on him and it’s painfully obvious. There’s a first time for everything and this? This is definitely a first. Forget about Tim and his whole deal with Red Robin, some of the villains in Gotham don't even know his name. That should be telling how low in the pyramid he is. Not that it matters to you apparently. He’s with you and his group of friends and he can hear all the things you say about him given he’s right there. And it doesn’t stop you from fawning over his powers, his fighting and detective abilities, and- uhm ok. Good to know you’re into his looks. He lost track how many times this happened. He does remember by the end, he’s rubbing his face and resigning to sigh through his nose in lieu of groaning out loud. You describe him as if he’s the world’s finest. He can feel the heat radiating off his whole head and body so he has a pretty good idea how he looks. It’s better when he’s alone with you. Your face is burning and he does everything to make the vibe less awkward. It doesn’t work and he makes it more awkward as his mind and your face now resembling a tomato reminds him you have a crush on him. He does wonder how in the world you’re able to snap back to normal so quickly when he’s going through heavy material with you. All fan-vibe gone, you’re listening and giving input which are often good points and covers any areas that were missed. 

Damian:

He doesn’t understand your behavior. One moment you’re fine, societal “normal” according to what those around him taught him. You’re casually chatting, making jokes, and expressing emotions like anyone else. On another, you’d suddenly be jumping around and praising him all over the place the second someone drops his name. Disregarding how he stands literally behind you and his cheeks completely pink, gradually turning to red, he thinks of you being just as embarrassing when Dick or someone else in the family brags about him. His skills with the katana, compassion for animals- he can somewhat tolerate that. He completely disagrees over him being hot-cold. He is not hot-cold. His personality also does not resemble a cat. Also how is he cute? He’s far from the word cute, period. Then there’s when you’re alone with him. Face completely rosy and dusted in pink. Every single time without fail, it’s only you and him. All he’s doing is standing next to you and instead of being either normal or chaotic, you’re suddenly blushing. He had entertained the idea of you having interest in him. Until he brings up a new case to you. It’s concerning how you go back to being normal and, surprisingly, making plausible conclusions that help him find a new lead. So despite what everyone around tells him that you have a crush on him, he’s having a hard time seeing it. You are sweeter when he’s around but he feels as though having a crush doesn’t associate with split personalities.

[pfhwrittes]

taking a leaf out of @syoddeye’s book and talking about divorced versions of the 141 under the cut.

(pass me the emergency cigarette 🚬)

trigger warnings: controlling financial behaviour/financial abuse, stalking, referenced off screen masturbation, religion/catholicism, implied blowjob (johnny receiving), noncon.

pairings: john price x gender neutral reader, simon “ghost” riley x gender neutral reader, john “soap” mactavish x gender neutral reader, kyle “gaz” garrick x gender neutral reader.

a little unedited drabble typed up on my phone for you all 💜

18+ only please and thank you due to suggestive content below the cut!

look, sy said it best with their posts when it comes to ex-husband john price.

he’ll let you stretch out your leash, let you go running into the arms of another person if he has to, but remember sweetheart — he made vows to do right by you and he plans on keeping them.

monthly maintenance payments, paid in a hand delivered envelope of cash, are a regular occurrence. every third thursday of the month he darkens your doorstep. the envelope is fat with five pound notes and he takes great pleasure in making you count it all out in front of him every time.

he also doesn’t tell you that he still has access to the online portals where you he pays your electric and water bill. silly thing, he understands divorce is hard but really you should’ve noticed that you haven’t received a bill from them in years. however, if he spots that wet blanket you call your new partner sniffing around again he’ll happily let you freeze…

simon riley swore until “death does you part” and he means it.

you can move addresses, change your number, delete and remake your social media presence under a new name as many times as you like but while there’s still breath in his body and grave dirt under his nails, you are his.

don’t fight him, you were the first soft perfect beautiful good thing in his life and like a dog on a scent he will always find you.

your new place is nice, love, but you really should get them locks looked at. did he mention that he loves the new underwear you bought? no? that’s alright he’ll leave you a token of his appreciation spattered on the soft material of the gusset for you to find later…

johnny mactavish was married under the eyes of God, and what God has brought together let no man tear asunder. what’s that hen? you married him in a different ceremony? aye, he knows. you married him in a different ceremony. he married you as a Catholic.

don’t worry bonnie thing, he’ll let you atone for your numerous sins. start with some Hail Marys on your knees and don’t even think about moving your hands from the zip on his jeans. if you’re good he’ll let you take Communion. if you’re bad, well, you know what they say about washing the mouths of sinners out with soap…

kyle garrick makes your divorce proceedings as easy and as amicable as possible. he doesn’t accuse you of finding love elsewhere, he doesn’t beg to stay in the housing on base the two of you share. in fact as soon as he’s presented with the no-fault paperwork he signs and moves out that day with a lingering kiss to your cheek and a murmur in you ear that he’ll come to you immediately if you need anything, babe.

what you don’t know is that eight weeks before you got up the guts to ask for a divorce, he spotted your search history on the clever bit of kit he installed on your phone and put in a request to dissolve your housing agreement.

times ticking babe, even though you don’t know it, you’ve only got four weeks left on your tenancy and twenty weeks until proceedings start. don’t worry, he knows there’s no hard feelings. he even put your favourite sheets on the bed in his new flat off base — where he plans on keeping you until that silly idea of a divorce has leaked out of your ears under all the affection he plans on smothering you with…

[tanoraqui]

I keep cracking up thinking about Szeth and Nightblood spending these next ten years building a moral code together, both of them for the first time, in an endless series of conversations that a) looks like Szeth talking to nothing, and b) inevitably sounds like something out of a religious parable.

Szeth knelt beside the corpse of a sheep - or what remained of a corpse. Upon his inspection, it was mostly wool and bones, and drying blood. We will kill whoever did this, right? asked the black sword upon his back. Emi was good! Whatever killed her must be evil. "It was only a wolf, sword-nimi," Szeth replied. "But, yes. This is the third sheep this month. We must hunt it down and kill it, lest it destroy our hosts' whole flock one by one." Why does it matter if it was a wolf? Nightblood asked. It killed someone who was good. That is evil! "It was only doing what wolves do," said Szeth. He considered for a moment, to put word to that which most humans know instinctively. "Wolves cannot be evil, nor can sheep, for they are not intelligent enough to know the difference. They only react to their own instincts and desires - in this case, hunger. True evil requires knowledge of one's crime, or the capacity for such knowledge." Szeth, you said you weren't going to kill anyone anymore unless they were evil, Nightblood reminded him. You are not a tool! Again, the soldier-turned-shepherd gave this appropriate consideration. "No," he said at last, "but I am a person, willingly beholden to my hosts and my people. The laws of animals say that the strong and hungry shall consume the weak, as this wolf has done. But the laws of men- of righteous men, and righteous Singers, say that the strong shall protect the weak, and that a person has the right to defend their own livelihood and life. We, too, need mutton to live, and wool and milk. The sheep are, in this way, tools. The wolf is not evil for killing them, but nor is it good - it is only a wolf. And it threatens, in its hunger, those to whom I owe service twice over. So I shall kill it, and hopefully its fur will warm them as well as Emi's wool might have next spring."

[twistedpink]

Not really a request, more like a ranking. Which 5 NRC boys are most likely to download the Sims 4 and live out a full life with Crush! Reader? Idia's definitely there, and so is Malleus if he figures out how to use a laptop!

dude shut up this is the only thing we should talk about??? I love it. For me it’s…

5th: You were very right that Malleus would be on here, but he doesn’t play it for long. He can’t figure out cheats for the life of him, so when one of you die prematurely he gets irrationally upset,,, If it’s him who dies it’s kinda cathartic tho?? I just can’t decide if he’d make a new him to keep you company or focus on solely you. (+ he asks for baby names from you, and is very upset when they visibly age)

4th: CATERRRR. Now hear me out he’s only so low because he uses the game as like his secret comfort thing. He has the most mods you can get and takes foreverrrrr making you realistic (actually pulls up references of you), he takes your sims on adventures and builds vacation houses for you guys <33 You never know about his gaming because nobody knows, but a lot of his reposts are about it and if you were to ask he’d say he’s doing it in like a silly ironic way. (“Awwwh you’re stalking my repostssssss”)

3rd: Jamil doesn’t make your sims for himself, but when he comes home during a break Najma has the game downloaded :^ She’d asked him for some pictures of his classmates earlier in the year and as a lazy generous big brother, he asked no questions! (Or atleast not enough) After taking his consoles back it bothered him how wrong your traits were, so he spends an evening redoing the two of you. Before he knows it the break is done and he’s on his third generation- he locks that device somewhere in his room and tries to forget about it. (He plays again the next time he comes home, trying to make one of your grandchildren the president)

2nd: We all knew Idia would be on here one way or another, and so would Lilia if he didn’t have charisma. Idia keeps Ortho away from his computer while he’s playing as much as possible, and covers his own face when your sims woohoo. He convinces himself it’s not creepy to live vicariously through a robot (been there done that), but can’t bring himself to delete the file even if you leave twisted wonderland..

1st: Your surprise winner is… Azul?? He knows how pathetic it is, but if he’s going do “adapt” to online gaming then it might as well be through something he can make a business on. He pirates all of his packs, and only gets mods for his quality of life. He first uses it as a life simulator for enrichment, but when your sim romances his organically he’s convinced it’s fate- until you drown a couple minutes later while he was on another tab :( He doesn’t make one again until he sees you in person, and starts mumbling about “one more try, just one more!” When your sims get together again he decides the death was a fluke, and you guys are soulmates after all <3

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Hii!🥰 Can I please request a Lloyd Hansen x civilian!fem!shy!reader where she is walking home from her waitressing job when she witnesses him and his men doing their less than legal work and tries to hide, but Lloyd notices her. He’s definitely offed people for less (it’s Lloyd we’re talking about😅), but he finds this girl to be completely adorable, and can’t help but have a soft spot for her, so he lets her go with a wink (and a lot of flirting). They see each other again when Lloyd happens to the diner she works at (definitely greeting her with a “hello sunshine/cupcake”🙇‍♀️😭), poor girl would be terrified but he really would never hurt her. Anyways, he asks her on a date, and he’s just so gentle and sweet and such a flirt and she agrees (they’d both fall head over heals for each other, Lloyd’s only soft spot🥹)

Only Soft Spot » Lloyd Hansen

Pairings: Lloyd Hansen x Civilian!Female Reader

Summary: Lloyd doesn’t have any soft spots, but he develops one when he lays his eyes on you.

Warnings: Fluff, language, shy!reader, waitress!reader, pet names

A/N: Thank you for the request @kpopgirlbtssvt 🩵

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buck-star

GIF IS NOT MINE! Gif credit goes to the creator.

You were walking home from work, rummaging through your bag to make sure you didn’t leave anything at the diner you work at. Once you made sure you have everything, you readjusted the straps of your bag on your shoulder and continued your walk home. That walk was cut short when you heard a loud noise from a vacant graffitied building from across. You stopped walking and stared at the building. Your curiosity was piqued and you decided to check it out, even though it’s probably a group of people hanging out inside or something like that. You looked both ways before crossing the street. The front entrance and windows were boarded up so you went to the back entrance, knowing there’s an opening back there. You carefully and quietly made your way inside of the building. You seen a small group of people standing around something. You didn’t know what they were looking at. You hid behind a wide pillar so you didn’t get caught, sneakily peaking your head out from the side of the pillar.

The people spread out. You seen someone tied to a chair, all beaten up and bloody. You looked at the people standing around the person, seeing guns in their hands. Your eyes widened.

This can’t be good.

“Take him out.” A man with a mustache said, Lloyd Hansen.

“Yes, boss.” Another man replied, one of his men.

The second man rose his gun up to the person tied to the chair, shooting him in the chest where his heart is. The gunshot sounded loudly in the empty building. You yelped and jumped at the sound of it. Everyone stopped what they were doing and turned around to see where the sound came from. Your eyes widened when they seen you. You immediately ran, running as fast as your legs would let you. One of the men rose his gun up.

“Put your gun down.” Lloyd said.

“She witnessed what we just did, boss.” Another one of his men says.

“I said, put your gun down!” He demands. “Don’t make me say it a third time!” He says.

The man nodded and put his gun down. Lloyd got a pretty good look at you before you ran away. He smiled to himself, knowing he likes you, even though he doesn’t know your name or anything about you. What he does know that you’re a soft spot for him. Lloyd is a man who doesn’t have any soft spots, but he just developed one… you.

You didn’t stop running once you left the vacant building. You ran as fast as you could till you reached your house. You opened your bag, scrambling to find your keys and unlocked your house door. You slammed the door shut behind you and locked it. You leaned against it, panting heavily from the running you just did. You closed your eyes and slid down the door, sitting on the floor and trying to catch your breath. Your mind began to wander as you were catching your breath.

There’s no way that man is dead, right? Maybe you didn’t see it right. Oh, what are you kidding? You just witnessed a murder. Stupid curiosity.

You shook your head, trying to gather yourself. Once you caught your breath, you stood up and went to the bathroom to take a shower before getting ready for bed. What you just witnessed was the only thing on your mind for the rest of the night.

The next day, you spaced out a couple times when you should’ve been working. You were leaning against the counter and staring down at your blank note pad, tapping your pen against it.

“The older couple at table 3 wants more coffee.” Your coworker said.

You gasped softly and jumped when she walked up next to you. She looked at you, raising an eyebrow.

“Are you ok?” She asked.

“Yea. I’m just a little tired.” You answered.

“You might want to get yourself some coffee too.” She says, patting your back.

You nodded before grabbing the pot of coffee and refilling the coffee for the older couple at table 3. The door to the diner opened, the bell ringing through the diner.

“Please seat yourself. I’ll be with you in a moment.” You say to the customer who just walked in.

“No rush. Take your time.” Lloyd says.

Lloyd seated himself in a booth in the corner of the diner. You went behind the counter to get a menu and a cup of coffee for the customer.

“Coffee?” You asked.

“Yes please.” He says.

You put the cup of coffee on the table in front of Lloyd before getting your note pad out to take his order.

“What can I-” The words died on your tongue when you looked at him.

Oh shit… it’s one of the men from last night.

“Hello, sunshine.” Lloyd smiles and winks.

Everything you learned from the training of your job flew right out the window. You honestly thought he was here to ask you what you saw last night.

“Join me, cupcake.” He says, gesturing to the empty booth seat in front of him.

You nervously sat down across from him, placing your note pad and pen on the table.

“Are you nervous?” Lloyd asks.

You shyly nodded your head yes.

“There’s no need to be nervous around me, sunshine.” He leans his arms against the table. “I’m not going to hurt you. I promise.” He promises.

You sat there, staring at him and feeling shy.

“First things first, I want to make sure you didn’t tell anyone about what you witnessed last night.” Lloyd says, keeping his voice low.

“I-I didn’t tell anyone.” You say quietly.

“That’s good. I would like that to stay between me and you.” He said. “Now, let’s get down to business.” He says.

Your eyebrows shot up.

“Not that kind of business, silly.” He chuckles.

You felt relieved when he said that.

“My name is Lloyd Hansen of Hansen Government Services.” He finally introduces himself. “Your name is Y/N, right?” He asks.

You completely forgot you were wearing a name tag on your work uniform.

Did this man do research on me?

“That’s what your name tag says.” He says, pointing at your name tag.

“Oh… yes, that’s my name.” You confirmed.

“That’s a beautiful name for a beautiful woman like you.” He compliments.

You blushed and looked down.

“I’m a man who doesn’t have that many weaknesses or soft spots for that matter, but when I seen you, I discovered a new soft spot… you.” Lloyd says.

“M-Me?” You stuttered. “Why me?” You asked.

“I like you, sunshine.” He smiles. “That says a lot about me, because I don’t like many people. You’re number one on the list of people I like.” He says.

A smile formed on your lips.

“If it’s ok with you, I would like to take you on a date sometime.” He says.

“I’m more than ok with that.” You say with a smile.

Lloyd smiles, grabbing your note pad and pen. He wrote down his phone number and gave it to you. You did the same.

“Now…” Lloyd begins. “Tell me what’s good here.” He says, looking at the menu.

“This is my favorite.” You say, pointing at your favorite meal on the menu.

“I’ll take that.” He tells you.

You nodded and went to the kitchen to tell the cook what Lloyd ordered. You came back a few minutes later with his food, placing it in front of him on the table.

“Thank you, cupcake.” He smiles.

“You’re welcome, Mr. Hansen.” You smiled back.

“Call me Lloyd, sunshine.” He winks.

You nodded and blushed before going back to work. A couple minutes later, your phone vibrated in your pocket. You took it out of your pocket to see who texted you. It was Lloyd.

Lloyd: Saturday night at 7pm. I can’t wait to get to know you

You: Sounds like a date🥰

You giggled and put your phone back in your pocket. You took a glance at Lloyd to see him smiling at you. You blushed before going back to work.

From that moment on, you and Lloyd were head over heels for each other. You also completely forgot about that incident from that night.

💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛

-Bucky’s Doll

[firstkanaphans]

Sarah, since you’re the closest thing to a Thai expert I know, do you know the significance of a person referring to themself in third person? I just assumed that was a normal thing since I hear that a lot in Thai bls, but I’m watching the boy next world and it’s making it seem like it’s significant

Phu uses “pom” as the I pronoun with Cir, which is both polite and formal, but Cir asks him to switch to just “Phu” instead. As far as I’m aware both are equally polite, but using your own name is slightly less formal, which gives the illusion of intimacy. More importantly than that, though, is that these are clearly the pronouns Cir and Phu use in Cir’s original universe and he wants to establish these with this new Phu as well.

Linguistically, this is actually quite fascinating because although using your own name as the I pronoun is very common in Thai, asking Phu to use it in this case almost melds him and Cir’s original Phu into one person through language. So if this Phu were ever to say “Phu loves Phi,” he could be both talking about himself and the original Phu as well. Cir likes this because at this point, he doesn’t see them as separate people. He wants this Phu to be just like the other Phu even though he’s not.

And Phu realizes this! He calls him out right after the scene with the pronouns. “You’re confusing me with another me.”

I kind of wish he’d gone back to using pom instead just to be difficult, but unfortunately Phu is far less bratty than Rain. He obediently switches to just “Phu.”

[kinardsevan]

How confident are you about BuckTommy getting back together? How do you think it might happen?

I don't know that I've put a number on it. And on one hand, it's because I live in this weird limbo where I'm positive they're getting back together because that's just how you tell a story. but I'm also one of those people who struggles to trust the writers not to fumble shit. So... I mean it's definitely more than 50/50. if I had to choose a number, I guess somewhere around 85/90%. because realistically, that number has only strengthened with my resolve over time (aka the hiatus).

now, I don't have a crystal clear idea on when they get back together. in fact, I spent roughly an hour on a video chat last night throwing out all the various scenarios that I think play into how it happens. hear me out:

so I think I was the first (and possibly only) person who commented on the fact that 806 being when they broke up signaled the end of the opening arc of the season. we're now in the midseason, telling that part of the story, and then obviously 807-812 will be the mid-season, and so forth with 813-818 being the final third. You can even arguably flex the middle part back into 811 if TM really wants the finale to be a multi-episode arc, as has been suggested. that all said, I think there are a few things that 805-808 set up for the rest of the middle of this season.

we got a lot of suggestion toward something happening. I'm really kinda sold on a helicopter crash actually happening midseason, mostly because I feel like holding it off for the finale would piss off the people who would be like "Tommy's not a MC". I also think that (unfortunately) not everyone views Tommy in the same blorbo shape we do, so as much as we would enjoy a three episode arc with a helicopter crash, coma, etc.,....it's just not going to shake out that way. Not even if all of this has been done (the break up I mean) as a push for the network to pony up more money to add him to the main cast (that's my own theory, there's absolutely no proof of it).

I know I've listed all of these in previous asks, but just in case this is the first one you're seeing, let's go through the list:

805: "having a crew like this around you when things go wrong" "especially when things go wrong" // "our people are what make our lives worth living

806: "no matter how badly I want it to be, I'm not your last" "they can be the same thing" // (Buck's entire understanding by the end of the Glee scene that yes, he is in fact in love with Tommy, even if he didn't say it)

807: ALL the baking. We have to reference back to 705 when Buck told Eddie "I kinda can't stop thinking about him", which then translatd in 807 to "whenever I think about calling Tommy, I channel it into something positive" (i.e., the baking), and we also know he's constantly baking. Even in 808, he has the entire basket that he shows up to Eddie's house with, which very much suggests, he's trying to move on, but is still very much in love with Tommy. ALSO, the "what if he's hurt and needs my help" 808: I honestly feel like the only real scenes that we got in this entire episode that moved the plot forward at all were the scene (sort-of) with Eddie and Brad (which honestly should've been Bobby/Eddie, but whatever), and the scene with Buck and Eddie. There's also this fascinating conversation that could be had about Buck with the whole "I'm still jonesing for it"/wanting to keep baking. There's so much out of 807 and 808 that really point to Oliver's commentary with the post-806 interview where he talked about Buck swinging like a pendulum, trying to figure out if he should reach out or just let go. But here's the thing: there's no closure on this. Given that we follow the story through Buck's eyes, the show is telling us that Buck has not been able to shut the door on this relationship, which really serves us (the audience) then, with the need for this to be hashed out, for Buck to say his piece, and then let pieces lie where they may.

Now, the naysayers will argue that this could just be a final conversation of goodbye, and they're welcome to feel that way. Except.

"No matter how bad I want it to be" // "We don't have to get engaged or married" -- Even as a general audience member, I think people can understand that these are serious statements. They're both saying that they want a future together, but Tommy's fear (and Buck's steamrolling) have (temporarily) put a stop to that. I think there's also a point in some of the statements that came out of that same post-806 interview, where TM said Tommy was setting Buck "free" to explore his sexuality and learn more about himself.

now, there are a million and a half interpretations to this. some people think that Buck absolutely needs to seek out and understand more about himself (and by extension, Tommy). some (like me) don't feel that this is a show that's ever going to publicly acknowledge Buck having a scene where he says the words "I'm bisexual" out loud. I've also seen a take recently that was half meta/half fic kinda looking at the idea of Buck's questioning in 806 being because he didn't fully understand the engagement of the outside world to their relationship. the only problem with that rhetoric is that we have 705 and 706. we have the coffee date, where he holds Tommy's hand and publicly asks him on date, and then we have him kissing the other man in public. if he's done it once, he's done it a million times after six months, so I don't think you're facing a situation where he's uncomfortable with who he is, especially when he openly outed himself to every person he loves with said boyfriend. (granted, there are complaints about the whole "I noticed you didn't" conversation, at which I feel the need to remind people that, in the grand scheme it may not seem like that conversation makes much sense, but Buck is the vehicle through which the show was using to get to the story about Abby; also there's a difference between asking someone about their sexuality versus asking them if they've ever been with x gender. I also cannot stress the importance in that particular scene of, Buck is and always has been bisexual. Even if he's only recently come to understand that's what it is, he has ONLY EVER KNOWN having the concept of being sexually attracted to both genders, even if he didn't think that dating men was an option before Tommy. [and also, there's such a full-on essay I could write about this issue alone, given his upbringing]. I think in relation to that, you have to be understanding to his "I noticed you didn't", because he probably can't conceptualize a version of people who are only straight or gay, because he's always looked at both the same way.)

THAT ALL SAID:

obviously I've commentated on the fact that we're going to get some kind of injury/accident/etc. Another quote that stays in my mind with the interviews post-806 was the final line in one where Oliver made the statement that "it's 911, there's always trauma coming". (I'm butchering that, but it's the general point). granted, we can take that as we choose/view it through the lens of Maddie's kidnapping... except, someone asked @nqueso-emergency recently about the episodes that had been directed by the directors of 809/10, and looking at that list as I was literally watching several of those episodes really led me to the idea that there's the possibility that we're been fed a swerve with what we know about the coming episodes. we've been told Maddie will be kidnapped, and even shown those scenes. I've personally questioned/theorized whether that will somehow feed into the b/t of it all, and Buck's situationship he's going fall into. obviously because we don't actually have answers, there's a million different ways that could pan out.

when I tell you I have a million and a half theories... I have a million and a half theories.

Like... what if Buck also gets kidnapped and it has to do with the situationship? Or what if it doesn't, but he still gets kidnapped? Or what if Tommy is kidnapped along with Maddie, and it is or isn't related to the situationship, but generally has something to do with Buck and Maddie? I just keep coming back to this thing of the eventual rescue that has to come out of the kidnapping, and the different ways that can play out. One of the things I was thinking most about lately was how I feel like you could see the episode end similarly to 610, where things feel like they've settled and they're going to be okay (Maddie's been found; Tommy and Chimney going after the Buckleys to bring them home, helicopter crash being the final scene of the episode), which would then tee up an entire episode where you can play out the drama of the break up, whatever confessions came through the kidnapping, etc. because that's my other thing: I genuinely feel like whatever disaster is going to befall Tommy that leads to him realizing that these people are also his people, is going to be with Evan. TM has done this before (most notably with Judd, from my own memory of LS). crashing the helicopter with the two of them together and forcing them to survive while having unresolved issues really forces them to lay things out to one another. now. will that necessarily be how the show does it?

who knows.

I've also flirted with the idea of Chimney and Tommy going after Buck and Maddie (because at the end of the day, this is a rehashing of Doug kidnapping Maddie, so we know Buck will go after her), and there not being a helicopter crash, but Tommy getting into trouble for taking government property (again), but this time getting in actual trouble for it. if they wanted to play into the entire "Eddie going to Texas" storyline, they could demote him, ship him back to the 118 (I just keep hearing Chief Alonzo tell him "since you love the 118 so much, you can go back there"), and the following episodes really playing into OS' slow burn of them not being together but also having forced proximity, which obvs would ultimately lead to them getting back together by the end of the season. this also really tees up the option that people like where we get storytelling on Tommy's past through him and Buck just generally being forced to engage more in a way that isn't romantic. and then obvs by the end of the season, Eddie would come back, Tommy would do some heroic shit that would get him back to the 217, and so forth.

the last little idea I've played with most recently, post-810, is the idea that they do the kidnapping, the resolution (without Tommy at all), and we see a massive time jump. Truth be told, I don't think they'll skip over baby Han #2's birth, but I also was kinda like "...but what if they did?" what if we skipped ahead in the timeline a year or two? Eddie going to Texas, Madney having their baby, Bathena's house being finished, Henren having their time with their kids, and Buck having his "discovery stage".... only to circle back around to the fact that over the course of a year (or two, etc), he's still in love with Tommy. Sure, the infatuation is quieter now in his head, not as prominent and the grief doesn't hurt as much... but any time they run into each other on-scene or in public, that pang is still there. the love is still there. you could really parlay that into something akin to when Maddie went back to Chimney in 218 to reconcile, which I think is an option. Maybe even twist it into a version of "you were my first, and I still want you to be my last".

the only other version of this I have personally conceptualized is the idea that the kidnapping happens (once again without any involvement with Tommy), things are working out, Buck is having his situationship... and then the helicopter crash happens. I've definitely flirted with idea leaning towards Buck/Josh because I think the bones are all already there, at which point you then get some level of a scene where there's a group scene, the news of the crash is heard, and you swiftly get this acknowledgment of "welp, that's over". because I am not at all putting it past this show to use a NDE to be what pushes b/t back together. especially because, at the end of the day, these are two people who told each other they want to spend the rest of their lives together (refer back to my barriers comment above). I will not put it past them to have what shakes Tommy's resolve is one of them almost dying and realizing he'd rather be scared and alive than know one of them could be dead and not have had that time together.

anyway....i've word vomited for ages now. this took me like an hour to write. you're welcome.

yall really gotta stop sending me these asks b/c then I just hyperfixate and go all "look at my brainmap!"

[risingphoenix24601]

Why (stage) Nessa is Ableist: An Essay

Disclaimer: I am disabled, but not a wheelchair user. I am chronically ill (EDS + all the bs that comes with it) and neurodivergent (ADHD, SPD, awaiting an Autism eval).

I will start with my personal perspective. My gripe with Nessa is that she is spoiled, her father favors her, and she expects everything to be done for her and soaks up everyone's pity. I'm not saying this never happens, but I feel like a lot of people just assume our parents coddle us and that our lives are easier, as if being disabled is some sort of advantage, and I've even seen us represented as going around looking for people entrap into helping us. When I was in high school, some kids found out I had a 504, became jealous (bruh, I'm jealous that you were born with high-speed internet brains) immediately assumed I was an arrogant prick who thought I deserved "special treatment," and took it upon themselves to make sure I felt like a burden. Believe me, being born into a world that doesn't know you exist is NOT an advantage.

Getting into more specific stuff: the movie did a great job correcting this, but since I'm talking about the stage version, I'm just going to list it: Elphaba's going to school just to care for Nessa, but I don't think she's in a position where she would need a full-time care-taker, so there's the trope of us entrapping people to do our bidding and that we're burdens on others (movie made clear that the dad is the asshole here and not Nessa). Second, many characters, some of whom don't know her at all, wheel Nessa around. You NEVER touch a person's mobility aids without their permission. Again, move fixed this. Third, Nessa says to Elphaba "I'm about the first happy night of my life!" Don't get me wrong, having a disability can really suck, but it doesn't mean our only emotion is misery. Plenty of disabled people live meaningful, fulfilling lives. My uncle has commented to me that he'd never guess I'm sick because "those people usually go around with a scowl." My uncle is Vietnam war vet. I'm sure if I knew half of the hell he went through, I would be shocked that he doesn't walk around with a scowl either-- but life goes on.

I'm going to address the controversy of the cure in Act II. Let me make this clear: plenty of disabled people want to be cured, and portraying someone who wants to be cured is not problematic. What is problematic, however, is that this is a very complicated topic and the show presents it in a way that is very simple. I'll use myself as an example: I would cure my EDS in a heartbeat, but neurodivergence, I honestly don't know. I am now at a point where I don't hate myself and actually like the way I am, but there are still days that I wish I was normal. I don't view my neurodivergence as a "gift" or another way of being, it is a disability and my life is harder because of it. And yet, I would be a completely different person without it. And I'm not sure if that's a person who I'd want to be.

We must remember that Nessa has been disabled since birth, this is her normal. And more than that, it's part of who she is. Suddenly being able to walk would be a massive change, and not necessarily a welcome one-- I think she would have the same fears that I have regarding fixing my neurodivergence. I also don't think Nessa is in a significant amount of pain or discomfort. So, ultimately, she is not disabled by her physical condition, she is disabled by the world around her.

This is, is my opinion, the biggest problem with the Wicked Witch of the East scene. Nessa's life is undeniably harder, but the lyrics incorrectly ascribe her suffering to her disability, when her suffering is actually caused by ableism. Also, wheelchairs are tools of accessibility. They are not bad or shameful things.

So yeah. I'm sorry that was long, but I've been seeing a lot of people asking about why it's ableist and there's no way to explain in one or two sentences, because this a complicated topic with complicated feelings. I hope I covered all the bases.

[soberpluto]

The Dark Side of Marriage According to Astrology

The other day I was watching a vid from a Vedic astrologer that I'm very much into. He was talking about marriage and its timing techniques, and how much he disliked the whole topic because, more often than not, he had to tell very ugly truths that many of his clients hated or were deeply disappointed to hear.

He explained that, in the first place, there are times in which marriage is not even meant to happen in a person's life (on a positive note, let's remember that no marriage is NOT the same as no romantic relationships / think of the differences between the 5th and 7th houses). Second, for many of us, getting married before turning 30 —or around our first Saturn return— will nearly always guarantee divorce at some point in time. And third: sometimes, people are meant to be in highly damaging and disturbing relationships with their spouses, because it's part of what they are here to learn. There's no way around that one. It's definitely not an easy pill to swallow!

"People forget that marriage is one of the most karmic —and sometimes challenging— elements in a birth chart," he explained.

Isn't that so true? We know karma is a real bitch sometimes, so... what happens when we wed it? LOL. Let's hope that we all find for ourselves a nice and decent gentleman or lady as a fair pay for our noble deeds. But if it's not the case, I guess the good news is that, if we're in the middle of a shitty marriage, it means we are successfully releasing our past baggage. It could be that later in life, after we learn our heart wrenching lessons, we stumble upon our dream come true. It could also be in our next life, tough. But we still can enjoy good sex, tons of laughter and amazing company without having to sell our soul to a list of binding clauses in the meantime.

Because, let's remember that wedding someone is not the same as loving someone. That someone wants to marry us does not mean they actually love us. And, on the other hand, if you're happily married, my heart is excited for you! Please take care of it, cherish it and enjoy it as much as you can. Know that it's one of your gifts for this lifetime, and your soul deserves it a 100%!

As a closing thought, I believe It'd be really good for our mental health to stop romanticizing cultural aspects of our society that may end up in horror stories. Whether we choose to marry or not —regardless of being astrologically fit or unfit for it—, I think the moral of the story is to choose loving ourselves first and foremost, because this is how we may begin healing ourselves and help others do the same. Because if working with karma is not healing, then what is it? In the process, we may attract our soulmate and have our happily-ever-after, or, maybe, we might discover that our existence holds equal or more fulfillment than someone who's married without this figure in our lives.

Whichever the case, let's love, anyway. First ourselves, and then others... freely, unconditionally, without the need to call someone ours or us theirs legally. We never are, anyway. 💗

Thanks for reading!

By @soberpluto

[doodler16]

Viv's 2018 apology post was 100% about herself and reeked of Logan Paul vibes. She said a lot of shit that aged particularly bad.

She spent most of the post complaining and trauma dumping rather then explaining her controversies. She claimed she made "weird art" which has tons of different meanings. Weird art can range from borderline NSFW abstract art, TAWOG Various Art and the obscure media. Not drawing porn of a 17 year old and trying to claim the person you falsely accused did it.

Viv forced Dollcreep to draw uncomfortable art which gives vibes of BhaalSpawn forcing Nintendogal to do most of Stolkholms content. (BhaalSpawn is Lily Orchard.)

Viv interacted heavily with DaniDraws who drew in their own words Statutory Rape Art, yet Viv's against the art itself.

She is so controdictory that I'm certain she was always a proshipper who lies and appears to have changed when she did not. The apology is proof of that. She never apologized again after that because she genuinely can't apologize at all. She has to make it about herself. How can this be acceptable at all? Also she said that people were complaining about caring for cartoons rather than real life people which is ironic.

Time is truly a flat circle.

Vivziepop’s 2018 “apology” said nothing and something at the same time. While yes, throughout the post, Vivziepop does tell her side. But it’s done in such a vague fashion that the only way you would know what situation she is talking about was if you were there for those moments in real time or a YouTuber like Ayy Lmao made a video about the drama.

An example of Vivziepop’s vagueness is in the first section of her “apology” (not counting the introduction). In this section she talks about an ex-friend and called him abusive. Mentioning several aspects such as credit, contracts, and being accused of stealing a character.

When I first read the “apology” I was thinking this could be about Kendraws but then that wouldn’t make sense since the two fell out around 2020 and were still in contact during 2018. Vivziepop used he/him pronouns and would misgender Ken using she/her.

So, the only other person I could think of who potentially fits the description Vivziepop described is Doll Creep. If that first section of the “apology” was hypothetical about Dollcreep, then she needs to provide proof that he is an abuser.

Not everyone follows Vivziepop and many are left in the dark of what happened. And forced to do their own research and search for what happened. If you understandably don’t want to do research there is not much to do besides to take her word for it.

I’m skipping the second section of her “apology” which is about Zootopia and Disney rumors which I don’t care about. But the third section is about transphobia and racism. The transphobia allegations were never debunked.

(Vivziepop misgenders Kendraw who uses they/them).

Vivziepop knew how Blair White and Shoe0nhead were controversial, yet still drew them and posted it on Twitter. Vivziepop should’ve taken the “L” and just admit that she shouldn’t have drawn them in the first place and moved on.

Interestingly enough she mentions not supporting blackface in an edit. Yet, she never disavowed the blackface that happened with an Alastor cosplayer.

The only time Vivziepop utters the word “sorry” is regarding this post being serious.

Like you mentioned, Vivziepop was also vague regarding her “weird art.” In conclusion, Vivziepop gets a F- for her “apology.”

[quokkaholic]

Ruin You k.s

Warnings: mafia/organized crime, cussing, alcohol consumption, mutual stalking, emotionless/kinda crazy seungmin, fluff i guess, kiss at the end

Synopsis: HEAVILY inspired by the anime Yakuza Fiance ep. 10 (once again, get into it). While working in an organized crime ring, you are assigned an aloof new partner. Despite working together for a while, you haven’t been able to gather any information about him, and his flip flopping disposition from lukewarm to icy leaves you unsure what to think about him. After tracking Seungmin down, you finally find out how he feels towards you after months of uncertainty.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

When you were assigned Kim Seungmin as a partner in literal crime, you were less than excited to say the least. You were used to working alone and liked it that way, but you were starting to rise in the ranks and take on more serious jobs. Being born into a criminal family, your uncle, a high standing member himself, insisted you take a partner. You tried everything to avoid it. The first person they assigned to you was found unconscious in her hotel room before her first day. Doctors say she was poisoned; they never found the culprit. The second person simply stopped showing up to work. No one ever found out what happened to them. The third guy was accidentally left behind at an opposition hideout after a raid. Everyone swore he was in the car, but by the time you pointed out he wasn’t in the car, there was no time to turn around. Despite there being no evidence of the heinous acts you committed in the name of wanting solitude, whispers began to spread precisely as you desired. Hopefully, this would show truly what you were capable of in order to get what you wanted, but when word reached your uncle, he did not see it as savage acts of determination. To him, it was simply childish disobedience. Never allowing another member of the clan to lay even a finger on you, you were harshly punished by his own hand. 

When you had recovered and returned to the scene, you had a meeting with your uncle and this Kim Seungmin. Him and Uncle talk for a while, but tuned them out in favor of your own thoughts as you evaluate him. He’s a smooth talker, even Uncle isn’t immune, letting out a chuckle here and there. He was a humble kind of handsome, no one feature particularly stuck out, each equally stunning and working in harmony to create simultaneously the most devilishly and boyishly handsome face. Those looks must do wonders in this industry. The ability to lure people in with his tenderness before, at the flip of a switch, swapping his look of genuineness for that of intimidation and domineering. You are able to see that switch the literal moment you both step out of the office. Smiling and bowing as he shuts the door, by the time he rises upright again, his face had dropped, the kindness melting away and replaced with pure stoicism, unreadable and unsettling. This is the Seungmin you would become familiar with.

You received strict instructions to leave Kim out of your schemes and actually try to get to know him. In Uncle’s words “you work hard for people you care about”. It's that sentiment that has gotten him so far and well loved in this “career”. You have not been able to heed his direction but not for lack of trying; it is Seungmin that is not cooperating. You’ve been working together for months now, and you can honestly say, you know little of him besides his name and his uncanny ability to put “it” on around others. “It” being a mask of sincerity and friendliness that borders on unprofessional but is always received as real warmth and decency. It's frightening but admirable. He is highly strategic, using his selective charm to control those around him like pawns. 

Seugmin never cared enough to even attempt to use his wiles on you. Hell, he practically acts as if you don’t even exist, only speaking when spoken to and barely ever looking your way, but on the rare occasion that your eyes do meet, his empty, emotionless gaze pierces your soul. You end up avoiding his gaze in return. Even though you like the idea of your partner keeping to themselves, this is bordering on excessive. Your orders from Uncle mixed with aloof and enigmatic nature just make you crave to get to know him even more. You attempt to gather any crumb of information available, spending countless evenings researching, coming up empty handed everytime. Its like he didn’t exist before he joined your family. You can’t even use his habits to deduce information about him. He always orders something different when you end up eating together. Maybe he likes beer, but that really says nothing of his personality. He drives in complete silence. You’ve caught him having a smoke, but it's not consistent. He never gets picked up or dropped off; in fact, it's almost as if he appears when he’s needed and immediately vanishes when the jobs are done, never sticking around for debriefings or after work drinks.

Unlike you, he started to pick up on your routines, showing up to work with your coffee order or favorite soda or sending for lunch without consulting you. He somehow seems to always know what you want before you even do. His thoughtful gestures followed by apathy are really starting to mess with your head and maybe even heart. 

Recently, when he picked you up for an assignment in his blacked out BMW, there was a small gift bag in the passenger seat, simple and elegant, tissue paper expertly folded and poking out the top. You never told him that today was your birthday. Picking up the bag and taking its place before you shut the door behind you. 

“For me?” you ask, trying to coerce even a semblance of a conversation from his lips. He doesn’t respond, just shoots a cool glance your way. Carefully removing the paper, you find a box at the bottom with a luxury brand symbol embossed on the outside. There are a darling set of studs stuck in the velvet base of the box. You rarely change out your jewelry, but these will be a perfect replacement for the cheap little earrings you keep in your second hole piercings. They are just the right size and color to match your other piercings.You pull down the visor, open the mirror and put the earrings in. Admiring the shimmering as you tilt your head back and forth to catch the passing lights. You thank him, and he doesn’t have the decency to even say ‘you’re welcome’. 

A few weeks later, you are in your apartment looking for your scanner. The scanner was a gift from Uncle when you turned 18 and he finally allowed you to join the family business. It scans the area for tracking devices. He was so worried about you in the beginning, ordering you to use it twice a day. Even then, it was probably only once a week you'd use it, only ever picking up your neighbors’ airtags and chipped pets. Nowadays, you use it more like once a month. It was stowed under the couch; you unbox it and set it on the coffee table, hooking it up to your laptop. Starting the scan, you run to the kitchen to tend to the whistling kettle for your tea, but the kettle isn’t the only alarm sounding. An ominous beeping is coming from the computer, one you hadn’t heard before. The scanner has picked up on an unregistered device. It was close by. The blinking dot is practically on top of your current location. The scanner is great, but it's not accurate down to the foot, only showing that it is your building. No way someone has gotten into the apartment. Your very intense security system keeps track of everytime a door or window opens, and they are all accounted for. Is there any way it's you? No. There's no gaps in your memory, and you haven’t… slept anywhere but home, so it couldn’t have happened while you were unconscious. You are reluctant to call Uncle; you want to handle this on your own plus he would make a huge ordeal out of it, potentially restricting some of your freedoms in response. You sit and sip your tea while reading through your journal and walking through your movements since the last time you used the scanner. While lying awake in bed, it comes to you. The earrings. Kim, you sly dog. The question of ‘why?’ doesn’t even cross your mind; you know you’ll never be able to decode his actions, but you have a feeling this isn’t strictly for work purposes. Uncle would have never asked him to do this, knowing it would put a strain on your already contentious relationship. However, if anyone was to know your every move, you’d prefer it to be the haunting ghost that is your partner, often finding him to act more like your bodyguard than your equal. He essentially already knows everywhere you go,and taking them out might reveal that you have caught him. As of now, you don’t need a reason, you just need to get even.

The next morning you present Seungmin with his “thank you gift”. Staying up all night, you hand stitched it with a little surprise on the inside to match your own. There actually is one thing you learned about Seungmin, he likes to drive. He is always the one driving and declining your offers to relieve him of the duty. A key chain was perfect. You tied it with a little bow and presented it to him when you got in the car. 

“As a thank you for the earrings, Kim. It’s not fancy jewelry, but the value is in the sentiment” You’ve been taking notes on his feigned sincerity and try your best to be convincing. You even put on extra rouge this morning to sell an embarrassed flush. Snatching it from your grasp, he removes the bow before placing the plush keychain in his pocket. The next day, you notice the cartoon dog on his key ring hanging out of his crisply pleated trouser pocket. Success. You keep an eye on his location for the next few days, finding what must be his house, favorite convenience store, and the park he goes for daily walks in. There is a location not on the map that he frequents, sometimes multiple times. You allow your curiosity to flourish and have to check it out. Throwing on your best attempt at a disguise and borrowing one of the fleet cars you usually don’t use, an old flatbed truck, you head to the location at the time he is usually there. Finding yourself parked in a business district surrounded by highrises and hustling salarymen, you keep an eye out for Seungmin. Someone in our profession only finds themselves here to conduct business with the corrupt elite. There's no chance he was taking jobs without you. Was he working for someone else? Was he selling you out? Or worse, Uncle? He is late, but soon you see him strolling down the street from the station. Instead of entering any of the skyscrapers, he keeps walking until he reaches a cutely decorated door with a frilly hanging sign over it and a menu stand out front. Your head falls back onto the head rest, eyes screwed shut. It's a damn cafe. You see him swiftly exit the shop with a large iced coffee in hand. After Seungmin is long gone, you remain parked contemplating your actions. What the fuck you are doing here? Maybe you’ve become a little obsessive, but he started this. 

You two are assigned a job out of town. You’ve gone on business trips before, but unlike other times, you have never been to this city. It’s not really a problem, but it’d be nice to have at least one person you know nearby. You let Seungmin know that, expressing your apprehension about being alone in an unfamiliar place on someone else’s turf. Despite this, after the “discussion” you two had with a few guards and a ceo developing in your family’s historic stomping grounds, you go to the bathroom to wash up and tend to a slash on your thigh you hadn’t even noticed until now, but when you return to entrance, Seungmin is nowhere to be seen. You’re fucking kidding. Hailing a cab, you head back to your hotel grumbling to yourself the whole time. You thought you were actually making some progress with him. You exchanged gifts for fucks sake. Granted, it was to secretly stalk each other, but he doesn’t know that! You try to let your anger pass by taking a bath, but when you dry off and check his location and he is still not back, you reach your wit’s end. You impulsively decide to go to him and confront him about deserting you. 

You follow his ping to a filthy and dimly lit alley. Heading between the buildings and sidestepping some garbage and a man that is probably just sleeping, you come upon the back door to a bar with the clan symbol of another crime family that you recognize. It’s one your Uncle works with often. You can hear the bustling from outside, and when you open the door, you see a substantial crowd of tatted and gruff looking individuals. Instead of their probably typical vicious demeanours, the bar is full of laughter and cheers. It's a sweet sight, a bunch of criminals and outcasts getting to let loose without stigma. Taking in the room, you see Seungmin sitting at the bar, the only empty seats in the bar on either side of him and your “gift” off of his keyring and resting on the table. You approach and when he notices you out of the corner of his eye, he gulps down the rest of his beer and raises his hand for his bill. He stands and grabs his change and keychain. Walking past you he gives a small flick of his head towards the door signalling for you to follow him out. 

“Is your leg okay?” he asked. Seungmin initiating the conversation? He must’ve had a bit to drink waiting for you to find him. 

“Yeah, don’t worry”, you assure him.

“I always worry, y/n. I’m sorry”, his response makes your stomach drop. You think he might truly be sincere despite the lines of his face remaining flat as always. You have to force your feet to keep moving in order to keep up with his wide strides.

“What are you sorry about?” This man never makes any sense.

“A lot, i think” he mumbles, staring down at the ground walking so fast as if he's trying to evade you.

“That's a bullshit answer, Kim. You don’t have to apologize to me” This is one of the few conversations where it hasn’t felt like pulling teeth to get him to respond, but you can't resist giving him a bit of a hard time for all the time he has spent toying with your head.

“I tricked you. Thought you'd be angry with me”, he admits.

“I did some scummy stuff too” you admit gesturing towards the keychain he is still clinging to. He scoffs before responding,

“Yeah following me to my sister’s cafe was unexpected”

Stopping in your tracks, you stare at his back as he takes a few more steps ahead of you before halting  when he realizes you're not just trailing behind.

“You saw me?”

“Y/n, I’m honed in on you; I can just sense your presence, and even if that weren’t the case, you really thought I wouldn’t notice you in a mask, hat, and glasses? And the choice of car was… interesting”

“Damnit, I’m not a spy! I just wanted something you wouldn’t suspect me in” you try to defend your poor excuse for surveillance.

“I was definitely shocked, especially after I figured out how you found me”, giggling up the plush pup in the air, he continues, 

“I guess I got careless after receiving a gift from you.”

“If you knew it had a gps, why didn’t you get rid of it”, you questioned in astonishment, even though the same could be asked of you.

“What do you mean why? It was a gift. From you”, he says as if it was obvious. Like it was silly of you to even ask something like that. There's the tiniest glint of uncharacteristic fondness in his eyes, that alone is enough to tilt your world off axis. It's not the faux geniality you’ve seen hundreds of times, it feels…honest but also disconcerting. His wholeheartedness brings an anxiety of impending doom along with it.

“I was a little disappointed when I realized it wasn’t as kind of a gesture as I initially imagined,” he confesses.

“I only did it because you did it first. I’d get you real gifts if you let me know literally anything about you Seungmin!” You pause for a moment once you realize you’re starting to raise your voice and take a deep breath before going on,

“I thought you couldn’t care less for me, but… that doesn’t seem to be the case.” Now he is the one stunned.

“Of course I care about you. That's why I got you the earrings. I knew you’d love them, and it was a gift for me as well.” explaining as if he's spelling it out for you, eyes locked on yours.

“So, you’re not mad that I was tracking you? You thought it’d make me mad, so you must be, right?” You’re becoming desperate to solve this riddle of a man, turning down every avenue in your mind looking for his motivations.

“Why would I be mad?” he questions. 

“You’re so damn confusing. How do you feel then?” 

He doesn’t answer, just returns a hollow stare.

“You’re unreadable and I'm tired of guessing”

“Well I guess…you won’t get mad?” His expression fades back to his typical dead eyed darkness.

“I can’t promise anything” responding to him honestly. His hand comes up to tuck back your hair and he rests it under your ear with his warm thumb on your cheek contrasting the chilly night air. It seems like a sweet move until he splays his fingers to span the side of your head.

“I could just …” He says as he uses his finger tips to press and grip onto your skull. Your hand flies up to snatch his wrists away but he holds tight and you cut him off.

“You really want to do this with me?” challenging him. 

“No… I just.” frigid gaze boring into you,

“I have these moments… I don’t know how to explain it.” He loosens the pressure in his fingers and you relax your hold. Instead of his hand falling away, he slides it down to your neck. You don’t attempt to stop him, needing to hear what he has to say and entranced by his dispassion you have come to be fond of. You trust him. Shifting to have his fingers on one side and thumb on the other, he gives a firm squeeze forcing out a surprised and strangled gasp from your lips. 

“It's like I want to cherish you…” he steps closer. His tall frame towering over you. His free hand finds yours, gingerly intertwining your fingers as he stares unblinking. Mouth agape, you look up to him eager for him to finish his thought. 

“but sometimes I just want to ruin you.” You whisper your response so as to not strain your voice,

“If I had to choose, it would be cherished” with your words a smile spreads across his lips. Not the charming smile you’ve seen a hundred times, a disturbed smile that rattles you to your core. His real smile, frightening yet beautiful.

“Me too” Using his rough grip on your neck, he pulls you to his lips for the most tender and warming kiss you'd ever received. That night marked the beginning of a different kind of partnership between you and Seungmin.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

A.n-Thank you for reading! Might make a smutty part two to this eventually. 

Here is my smutty Han fic that is very lightly also inspired my yakuza fiance 

The Triangle From Hell

-mo :)

Masterlist 

[daily-grian]

Mod Owl lore: I used to be an artist for an original closed adoptables species called Wuffies on a niche rp forum board and I've been thinking about them again recently, so I thought i'd doodle Grian as a wuffy. Bonus fun fact - wuffies do not usually have wings, but I was the only person to ever get a wuffy with wings cause it was a birthday present from the species owner and I still have it :3 It would feel criminal to not give Grian wings though