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vantetaes · 4 months ago

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FRIDAY NIGHT LIGHTS🫧🥂

ATHLETE ONYANKOPON X TUTOR BLACK FEM READER

SUMMARY!!! yn is forced to tutor her colleges golden boy, onyankopon

WARNINGS!!! slow burn, enemies to lovers, mild vougerism, pet names

on a rainy tuesday, the sky hangs low and gray, smothering the campus in a damp chill.

you’re sitting in the library, tucked into a corner where the light from a nearby lamp casts a golden glow across the wooden table. books and papers are scattered in front of you, your pen tapping rhythmically against the spine of a well-worn calculus textbook. the library is quiet except for the faint hum of the central heating and the soft rustle of pages being turned.

then, you hear it. heavy footsteps, a bag dragging along the polished floors. you glance up to see onyankopon striding in, his broad shoulders swaying under a damp varsity jacket. his forehead still wet from the rain, beads of water slipping down his neck and soaking into the collar of his gray hoodie and his large jeweled necklace. his black sweatpants hang low on his hips, the fabric wrinkled and casual.

he doesn’t even apologize as he plops into the chair across from you, his duffel bag hitting the floor with a loud thud. a few drops of water splashing into your work surface.

his presence is immediate, commanding, and unwelcome.

“you’re late.” you say flatly, folding your arms.

he doesn’t look at you as he leans back, his long legs stretching out beneath the table.

“yeah, well, traffic. i’m here now. isn’t that what matters?”

“not when you’re fifteen minutes late. i could be doing something better than this.” you push the calculus textbook toward him, your tone clipped.

“let’s just get started. i don’t have time to waste.”

“psht- sure.” he mumbles lowly, spreading legs wider, leaning back in his chair, arms tucked into his hoodie pocket, hood shielding his eyes.

“you’re awfully cocky for someone failing calculus.” he rears up, eyes narrowing at you.

“and you have a lot of mouth for a tutor.” his frame began leaning forward, his irritating smile beginning to form across his lips.

“be an asshole all you want. i’m what’s separating you and the championship. i separate you and your incompetent little scouts. watch what you say.” his eyes relax from shooting daggers, instead of look of defeat crossing.

“open your book to 215.”

the first few sessions are a disaster.

he spends more time cracking jokes and scrolling on his phone, flirting with the library assistants. rather than actually studying. half-listening, scribbling answers in the margins of his workbook with barely any effort.

you were stuck in a loop of wanting to rip the boys head off and reassuring yourself that this would look good on your record.

“what’s the point of this, anyway?” he mutters late one evening, slouched over the table in his usual hoodie, varsity jacket combo and sweatpants.

the library’s soft lighting and sunset through the large windows makes his skin look warm, his dark brown eyes glinting with something that isn’t quite interest but isn’t boredom either. licking his plump lips as he goes to lean back in the chair, pen tucked behind his ear.

“not like i’m not gonna use this in real life.”

“knowing you, maybe not.” you reply, your voice sharp, placing the tip of your red pen down on his paper, marking everything wrong on his sheet.

“but for now, you’ll use it to keep playing football. or do you want to sit out the champs because you couldn’t be bothered to learn how to integrate a function? all the money your parents spend for you to go here, make use.” your tone was straight and nonchalant. sliding over the paper to the man as if it’s confidential files. his eyes scan all the red x’s and o’s. noticing it was the majority of his work.

“do you always talk like this? no wonder no one sits with you in class.” he gives you a look, one eyebrow raised.

the words sting, but you don’t let it show.

“nigga we’re grown. this isn’t high school anymore, onyankopon. maybe people would like you more if you weren’t so fucking obnoxious.”

his grin is infuriating, lips stretching across his face. letting out a chuckle.

“oh, they like me just fine, sweetheart.”

“and i hope to be as delusional as you someday.”

despite your attitude towards each other, you find yourself noticing small things about him.

the way he fiddles with the drawstring of his hoodie when he’s frustrated. index finger and thumb nipping at the metal tips. the way his voice softens, just barely, when he asks you to explain something again, pushing his glasses up. breath hitching when you slide from your side of the table casually, the fabric of your sweater falling slightly over your shoulder. he thought you smelled like fresh baked cookies, maybe a contrast with the way your attitude was. you’d notice the faint scar above his left eyebrow, visible only when the light from the library’s lamp hits it just right.

one day, the library is too crowded, filled to the brim with worried college students, and he suggests meeting in his dorm instead. you hesitate but agree, figuring it’ll be easier than finding another spot in the cramped exam season.

when you arrive, his room is a mess. clothes tossed over the back of a chair, textbooks and playbooks stacked haphazardly on his desk, the faint scent of cologne and sweat lingering in the air.

“sorry about the mess. been trying to keep up with everything.” he says, scratching the back of his neck. he’s wearing a fitted black t-shirt and joggers today, hair protected in a dark maroon durag. his feet padding softly against the carpet as he moves to clear his clothes from his bed to his laundry basket tucked into his closet.

you couldn’t help but notice he’s moving erratically, eyes and hands unable to find a steady place to stay.

“onyankopon.” you reply, setting your bag down. “we can always reschedule, maybe you’re working yourself too hard.”

“no. we can do it just let me straighten up, swear.” your eyes drift from the man rushing to clean, to a pile of crushed red bulls, celcius cans, and empty americano cups. his calendar was packed full of activities and sports events he was mandated to attend. lists of exams growing. he’s running on nothing but caffeine.

“onyankopon.” you say, crossing your arms, your voice tight with concern.

“you’re running on nothing but coke and sheer panic.”

he laughs, though it’s short and breathless, as if acknowledging the truth in your words would be admitting defeat.

“nah, i’m fine. i’ve got it. i always do.”

you don’t respond right away, instead watching as he swipes stray clothes off the only other chair in the room and dumps them onto his bed. his hands move quickly with hangers, his jaw tight, his movements too sharp to be natural. you realize it’s not just the caffeine, it’s everything. the weight of expectations. the need to perform, to stay on top.

“sit down.” you finally say, your voice firm.

“what?” he looks up, his dark eyes blinking in confusion.

“sit. down.” you gesture to his unmade bed, the rumpled gray sheets twisted like he hadn’t gotten a good night’s sleep in weeks.

“take five minutes to breathe before you collapse. i’m serious.”

“i don’t have time to—” he hesitates, his fingers twitching like they’re itching to pick up something else, to keep moving, to do anything other than pause.

“make time. you can’t keep going like this.” you cut him off, your tone sharper than you intend.

his shoulders sag, and for the first time, you see a crack in the cocky, untouchable facade he always wears. slowly, he sinks onto the edge of the bed, his elbows resting on his knees as he rubs a hand down his face.

“it’s just… a lot,” he admits, his voice quieter now.

“if i don’t keep up, i’ll fall behind. and if i fall behind- then…”

“then what?” you press, stepping closer.

“the world ends? the team loses one player for a game? you fail a test? what’s the worst that happens?”

“everyone’s counting on me.” he says, the words heavy.

“the team, the coaches, the professors. hell, even my parents. if i screw this up-” voice cracking, he trails off, shaking his head.

you feel something in your chest twist, a mixture of frustration and sympathy. you’d always seen onyankopon as larger than life, the guy who has it all together. but here he was, cracking under the weight of his own perfectionism.

“look-” you say, your voice softer now. “i get it. people expect a lot from you. but you can’t give them anything if you’re running on fumes, onya. you need to take care of yourself too, okay?”

he looks up at you, his dark eyes searching yours, and for a moment, he’s quiet. then, he gives a small, tired smile.

“you’re bossy, you know that?”

“you’re stubborn.” you counter, sitting down across from him and sliding your notebook back into the bag.

“im serious though. drink some water, eat something. we can pick up next week before exams start.”

as the week goes by, something shifts. it’s subtle at first: he starts showing up on time, asking questions that prove he’s actually been paying attention. during one session, you catch him staring at you. not in his usual teasing way, but with an expression you can’t quite place.

“what?” you snap, your cheeks warming under his gaze.

“nothing. just wondering what you’d look like if you smiled once in a while.” he shrugs, his lips curving into a small smile.

“maybe i’d smile more if you got an answer right for once.” you shoot back, jokingly tapping the side of his face. there’s no real venom in your tone.

one evening in his dorm, with BRENT FAIYAZ playing softly in the background on his laptop. he surprises you by pulling out a red notebook filled with neatly written equations.

“i’ve been practicing.” he says, his voice almost shy.

“you… did this on your own?” you blink a few times, caught off guard. fingers flipping carefully through the work.

“yeah. figured you’d yell at me less if i tried.”

for the first time, you see a different side of him. he’s still cocky, still quick with a comeback, but there’s something vulnerable beneath the surface. it’s infuriating, how much you notice.

you find yourself in his dorm again. the rain is pounding against the window, the room dimly lit by the glow of a desk lamp. onyankopon sits across from you, his hoodie pulled low over his curls. he’s focused on the textbook in front of him, his jaw tight as he works through a problem.

you don’t know why, but your chest tightens at the sight of him like this. serious, determined, and quiet in a way that feels rare.

“you’re getting it.” you say softly, and his head snaps up.

“yeah?” his voice is quieter than usual, almost hesitant.

“yeah.” you smile, just a little. “you’ll pass.”

he leans back, exhaling deeply. “good. because i don’t think i could’ve done this without you.”

you wave him off, trying to ignore the way your heart skips at his words. “just focus on your game tomorrow.”

but he doesn’t look away, his dark eyes fixed on yours. “i mean it. you’ve been there for me when no one else was.”

your breath catches, and for a moment, the space between you feels charged, electric. but you force yourself to look away, gathering your things. “you should get some rest.”

he doesn’t stop you as you leave, but the look in his eyes stays with you long after you’ve gone.

the stadium is alive with energy, the roar of the crowd vibrating through the crisp autumn air. the bright lights cut through the darkness, illuminating the field where onyankopon moves like he was made for this.

you’re watching from the sidelines, surrounded by screaming fans and teammates pacing anxiously, but your eyes never leave him. he’s electric tonight, faster than you’ve ever seen him, his body a blur of black and gold as he weaves through defenders. every throw is perfect, spiraling through the air before landing seamlessly in the hands of his receivers. he’s playing like a man possessed, like this is his destiny.

and maybe it is.

the final play unfolds in slow motion. clock winding down, onyankopon dodging two defenders, the pocket collapsing around him, but instead of panicking, he pivots. his cleats dig into the turf as he launches the ball downfield, his arm a perfect arc of muscle and control. the last second. the crowd holds its breath as the receiver leaps, fingers grazing the ball before pulling it into his chest.

touchdown.

the stadium erupts.

the scoreboard cements the victory, and just like that, they’ve won. the team rushes the field, helmets flying off, bodies colliding in embraces and back slaps. onyankopon stands at the center of it all, arms raised, grinning so wide it’s blinding.

you should leave. you should turn away now that your job is technically over. he passed his classes, he made it to the championship, he didn’t need you anymore. but your feet stay rooted to the ground. because despite everything, despite the way he frustrates you and how complicated everything had become, you can’t bring yourself to look away.

but neither can he.

even in the chaos, in the middle of his teammates hoisting him up like he’s their king, his eyes find you. just for a second. just long enough for something unspoken to pass between you.

with a big smile and both thumbs high, you just smile at the man.

then, suddenly, he’s swarmed. scouts in expensive suits push through the crowd, hands outstretched, voices blending together in a frenzy of opportunity.

they’re speaking fast, throwing out numbers, offers, futures that sound too big to be real. you watch as coaches shake his hand, as reporters shove microphones in his face, as his teammates thump his back with shouts of -

“that’s the nfl calling your name, bro!”

“the girls gone love this shit!”

“let’s go drink!”

the campus bar is packed, overflowing with students buzzing from the victory, their energy vibrating through the dimly lit space. the neon signs overhead cast a hazy glow over the crowd, bottles clinking together, voices raised in laughter and celebration over the music.

you sit at the bar, half-hidden in the shadows, nursing a drink that burns just enough to dull the tightness in your chest. your fingers trace the rim of the glass as you watch groups of students in jerseys throwing back shots, replaying onyankopon’s best plays on the tiny bar tvs like they hadn’t just witnessed them firsthand.

you should be happy. you should be celebrating too. after all, he won. he got everything he wanted.

so why does it feel like something in your chest is unraveling?

you tip your glass back, finishing the rest of your drink in one go. the ice pressing against your lips yet the warmth spreading through you like a slow burn.

“another?” the bartender asks, eyeing you curiously. almost concerned with the solemn expression that rest on your face.

you nod, sliding your glass toward her.

“yeah. something way stronger please. everclear if you have it.”

“sorry we don’t carry jet fuel.” she jokes, reaching across the counter to grab your empty glass.

the doors swing open, and the energy in the bar shifts instantly. the football team floods in, a wave of jerseys and victory-fueled adrenaline, their presence consuming the space like they own it. someone starts chanting onyankopon’s name, and the whole bar picks it up, the sound rising above the music, shaking the walls.

he walks in at the center of it all, his championship hoodie slung over his broad shoulders, his jersey still clinging to him from the game. his chain catches the light as he moves, bright white teeth grinning, dapping up teammates, accepting the endless praise with that same easy confidence.

he looks good. he always does. but there’s something sharper about him tonight. something almost restless in the way his eyes sweep across the room.

then, he sees you.

you’re still at the bar, fingers wrapped loosely around your drink, your posture relaxed but your gaze unreadable. you don’t cheer, don’t chant his name like the rest of them. you just watch, eyes batting at him and somehow, that unsettles him more than anything else.

without a word, he starts moving toward you. almost like he was gravitated towards you.

“onyan, where you going man? they wanna take shots.” one of his teammates calls, arms thrown over two girls. a small smirk crossing his face. but onyankopon barely hears him.

“shouldn’t you be celebrating with them?” you glance up when he reaches you, arching a brow.

he leans against the bar, close enough that you can smell the faint mix of cologne and sweat still clinging to him.

“i could ask you the same thing.” he says, voice low over the noise. you take a slow sip of your drink.

“i am celebrating.” he huffs a quiet laugh.

“yeah? you don’t look like it.”

“guess i don’t have as much to celebrate as you do.” you shrug, swirling the liquid in your glass, watching the ice clink against the sides.

the words shouldn’t sting, but they do.

onyankopon watches you for a long moment, then reaches past you, grabbing a random shot from the bar. he downs it quickly, barely flinching at the burn before setting the glass down with a quiet thud.

“go back, they’re waiting for you.” your finger points past the man to a group of guys staring at him and you. some of them smiling at you while others stare confused.

“ma, stop acting like this. y’know i appreciate you helping me, i couldn’t have done this without you. im serious.” his hand shoots out, taking hold of yours, bringing it up to place a small kiss on your knuckles. eyes never leaving yours.

“come take one drink with us and the you c -“ yanking your hand back, the man’s big brown eyes widen.

“baby! there you are!”

your fingers tighten around your glass as a girl slides up to onyankopon, wrapping her arms around his bicep like she belongs there.

her black minidress riding up her ass as she pressed against the man. but she’s pretty. long, sleek hair, manicured nails pressing lightly into the side of his face.

kirsten.

you’ve seen her before, walking across campus in his hoodies, sitting front row at his games, in pictures tagged on his instagram.

your stomach turns, but your face remains impassive.

“uh, hey.” onyankopon tenses, like he wasn’t expecting her, but he recovers fast. she looks up at him, pouting.

“you disappeared right after the game! i’ve been looking everywhere for you. even came by the locker room.” then, as if just noticing you, she turns, her eyes scanning you from head to toe.

her smile is polite. too polite.

“who’s this?”

before onyankopon can answer, you set your glass down and meet her gaze head-on.

“yn.”

her brows lift slightly, like the name rings a bell.

“oh-” she hums, the realization clicking in her head. she looks at onyankopon. “the tutor?”

there’s something about the way she says it that makes your jaw clench. like she’s filing you away into something insignificant.

“girl- yes. the tutor. the whole reason your fuck buddy was even able to play tonight.” you exhale slowly, keeping your tone even.

onyankopon mutters something under his breath, running a hand down his face, but kirsten just smiles, saccharine-sweet.

“right, of course. i heard you helped him so much.”

“i did, how did you?.” you arch a brow.

her smile tightens, and for a second, the two of you just stare at each other, an entire silent conversation happening in the space between. neither of you back down.

onyankopon shifts beside you, clearly uncomfortable.

“kirsten, not now.” he mutters.

but she ignores him, tilting her head at you.

“it’s just funny. you’re acting all… close, but you’re just his tutor.”

your lips part, and you could let it go. you should let it go. but the exhaustion from the last few weeks, the emotions simmering under your skin, the alcohol in your system. it all catches up to you.

you lean in slightly, voice smooth but firm.

“ha! kirs baby... you’re acting all secure, but you had to come find him.”

her smile vanishes.

onyankopon lets out a low, exasperated- “oh, fuck.”

“do you need that?” she asks, about to start taking her earrings until onyankopon started to scold the girl.

the bar suddenly feels too loud, too crowded, too full of people pretending not to watch the tension unfold. you sigh, shaking your head, suddenly too tired for this. reaching into your purse, you throw down a fifty dollar bill and snatch your jacket off the back of the chair.

“enjoy your night, superstar .” you say, voice quieter now, pushing in between the couple.

and this time, when you walk away, you don’t stop.

the pounding on your door is relentless. heavy, urgent, like whoever’s on the other side has no intention of leaving until you open up.

you groan, burying your face deeper into your pillow, willing whoever it is to go away. but the knocking only gets louder, more insistent.

“yn! open the damn door!”

your eyes snap open. you recognize that voice instantly. deep, slightly hoarse, impatient. onyankopon.

you drag yourself out of bed, throwing on the nearest sweatshirt, slipping on your slippers, your head still hazy from last night’s drinks. your legs are heavy as you trudge toward the door, stomach twisting with a mix of exhaustion and irritation. the knocks still persistent.

the second you yank it open, he’s there, standing in your doorway like he owns the place. his hoodie is pulled up over his waves, his sweatpants hanging low on his hips, like he left in a hurry.

his eyes. dark, intense, scan over you, taking in the oversized sweatshirt swallowing your frame. lashes disheveled, your bare legs, bonnet secured on your head, the clear signs that you just woke up. eyes narrowed at him, sleep still collecting at the corners.

something flickers across his face, gone too fast for you to catch.

“jesus, onyankopon. why you knocking like the fucking police? barely morning.” you mutter, rubbing your temple, wiping your eyes. he frowns down at you, flipping his apple watch up.

“it’s noon.”

“…oh.”

he exhales sharply, jaw clenching.

“can i come in?”

you hesitate, debating slamming the door in his face just to make a point. but there’s something about the way he looks- frustrated, tired, guilty. that makes you sigh and step aside.

he brushes past you, pacing across your living room like he doesn’t know what to do with himself. you cross your arms, watching him, waiting.

finally, he stops, turning to face you.

“about last night—” you cut him off.

“you don’t have to explain.”

“yeah, i do.” his voice is firm. “you left before i could.”

you huff a humorless laugh.

“what was there to explain? your bitch came looking for you, you let her hang all over you, and then she tried to play in my fucking face. sounds pretty clear to me.”

“she’s not my fucking girlfriend.” he scrubs a hand down his face, exhaling hard.

“wow! could’ve fooled the hell outta me.” you blink.

“yn, i swear to god! i. am. not. with. her!” he looks at you, exasperated, hands held out pleading for your warmth.

“she’s not- we were a thing, yeah, but we broke up weeks ago. she just- she doesn’t take ‘no’ for an answer.” he shakes his head, frustrated. you stare at him, skeptical.

“and what, you just let her? let her claim you, let her act like i was nothing? was her dumb ass helping you pass a class you knew you shouldn’t have signed up for in the first place? you could never be my nigga.”

his expression tightens.

“i wasn’t thinking. i was caught off guard. and then you and her started—”

“that, and i just—fuck, i handled it wrong, okay?” he gestures vaguely.

“all this fucking stuttering. yeah, no shit. you chose her last night when you let the weirdo talk to me crazy.” you scoff.

“i don’t want her, ma. i swear, i need you to believe me.” he steps closer, lowering his voice.

“good for you.” your breath catches, but you keep your face neutral.

“no.” he shakes his head, his eyes locked onto yours. he’s towering over you and all you can smell is his cologne and laundry detergent. his head still hooded, lips shining under the low light of your apartment.

“you don’t get it.” he moves even closer, his voice quieter now, more serious.

“i don’t want her. i want you.”

“prove it.”

he wastes no time bending down and attaching your lips to his.

“mm-! i didn’t have time to brush my teeth!” you whine, letting him snake his large hands under your sweatshirt. his trimmed nails running up and down your waist. his lips venture down the side of your neck, humming before pulling away.

“mama, i’ve wanted you for the last two months, i don’t give a damn.”

his lips move against yours with urgency, all heat and frustration, his hands sliding up your back, pulling you even closer until there’s no space left between you.

your fingers dig into his hoodie, gripping the fabric as he backs you up against the wall, his knee slipping between your thighs like he belongs there. the heat of him, the sheer size of him, has your breath hitching, your heart pounding so loud you swear he can hear it.

he breaks away just enough to look at you, his breathing uneven, his eyes dark and intense.

“you sure?”

you don’t answer with words. instead, you fist your hands into his hoodie and pull him back in, crashing your mouth against his like you’re making up for lost time.

that’s all the permission he needs.

he groans into the kiss, one hand cupping your jaw, the other sliding down to grip your hip, his fingers pressing into the soft skin just beneath the hem of your sweatshirt. his thumb brushes over the curve of your waist, slow, like he’s memorizing every inch of you.

your body reacts before your mind can catch up, your back arching, pressing yourself against him. the friction makes you gasp, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue past your lips, deepening the kiss, swallowing the small sound you make.

he tastes like mint and something else, something undeniably him, and it has your head spinning, your knees weak.

his hoists you up, rushing down the hall with your lips connected. pushing open your bedroom door, he carefully places you on the bed. hands eagerly paw at your sweatshirt, getting it off over your head.

“let me take care of you, baby.” you watch as he climbed onto the bed, bending to attach his lips to your swollen nipples. his other hand comes up, dragging along your frame, taking hold of your other breast. he gently massages, rolling your nipple in between his thumb and middle finger.

mouth agape, all you can do is grab at his large arms, trying to ground yourself to anything. he removes his mouth with a ‘pop’, sliding down to your stomach. he places a few kisses, eyes locked on yours as he proceeds down.

the warmth of his mouth over your clothed heat is enough to have your eyes closing in anticipation. his places a kiss, using his hands to hook the sides of your underwear. in one swift motion, your pink underwear were draped over your tv.

when he started you couldn’t stop him. like a wild animal, his tongue lapping up your juices as his mouth sucks and bites at your core. he’s humming, using his free hands to feel every inch of your body, every bump, mark, mole, he needed to know all of you.

“oouu- shit! onya just like that.” the large digits of his middle and ring finger pump in and out of you, feeling your gummy, warm wall clenching around him. his tongue playing slowly with your clit, eyes rolling to the back of his head at how good you taste.

he always wondered how you’d look under him.

every assignment, every session in the library, it took him all his might not to bend you over his calculus book and fuck the shit out of you.

showing up in your skims or iamgia two pieces, the fabric fitting snug against your smooth skin. how everytime you got close to show him how to work an equation, the smell of coco butter, vanilla, and hair oil would fill his space. he loved heading to practice, music barely playing as his thoughts ran rapid throughout the drive.

and now he has you.

pad of his fingers press up against the small sponges texture at the back of your heat, tongue lapping at the bud with a sense of hunger. in the light of your room, you can see your slick and his spit covering his face. coating the neck if his hoodie. hands dart out to grab the closest thing to brace yourself. the coil in your stomach burning heavy, shaking with every pump of the man’s fingers.

“i feel that shit. you’re such a good girl for me baby, let it go. mm- let me take it, ma.”

you’d always known onyankopon didn’t have many cares in the world.

with your hands tied behind your back with his hoodie string, body pressed against the living room window. onyankopon stands behind you, slowly pumping in and out of you. wet squelches of sound fill the large room, filling your ears as pleasure coiled in the pit of your stomach.

“fuck onyyy, just like that.” you could feel his large tip rubbing across the spongy area, prodding around like he knew your entire body. his hand comes up, cupping the side of your face as his thumb slips inside your mouth, other had anchoring to your hips.

“mhm, hold on for me mama. let em see.” you can only look out of your window onto the balcony, tear filled eyes dashing across the parking lot, making sure no one was actually staring through the glass.

he pulls out, almost fully, tip filling your hole. he leans down, giving the back of your shoulders a kiss before sliding into you. slow, controlled strokes drive you over the edge. tears fall into the glass as your lips wrap around his finger. his hips dip in and out of you, a white creamy circle forming around the base of the man’s cock.

“pussy so good. takin’ it so good for me.” his words fuel the fire, passion burning through your bodies as his strokes become sloppy and shallow.

“yes! oh my- onya im so close, imma cum on this dick!” your breast collide with the door, letting the man take control as he nears his end.

“do it then, ma. make a mess on my shit.” he says through gritted teeth, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he subconsciously begins to lift your frame. too lost on ecstasy and need that he doesn’t notice your feet hovering off the ground. he’s ravaging your insides, swollen cock drilling at your warm walls.

“i’m cumming! onya holy shit!” he continued, using his hand to cover your mouth. your body falls limp, standing no issue to the man as he holds you in place.

“that my good girl! i’m finna nut baby, where you want it baby?” too lost in the pleasure in your core, you just nod. pulling out, he releases white sticky ropes onto his own chest, carefully placing you down on the couch.

he takes his hoodie off, carefully undoing your hands.

“believe me now?”

“maybe”

693 notes · View notes

kizzer55555 · 1 year ago

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Core Gems

So when a ghost becomes injured, they have a last ditch defense where they retreat into their core. And I mean, injured badly where their body is rip apart to the point they can’t hold a solid form anymore. And they basically go into a hibernation state until they are strong enough to form again.

Ellie, Danny, and Dan are all injured in a final battle against the GIW. The organization was destroyed and the ghosts were safe but the halfas ended up being so injured that they reverted to core form and then went to sleep for a bit. When they woke up, they were still weak but at least recovered enough to gain consciousness. And realize…they are in some kind of auction…in the middle of a heist. It appeared that two furries (one in a bat costume and one in a cat costume) were ducking it out. And they…they were a necklace. All three of them had been turned into a necklace with their cores as gems accompanied by sapphires, pearls, and opals. And frankly gorgeous craftsmanship as the metal was crafted around their cores as if to cradle them and the other gems.

Unfortunately, they were too weak to take a form properly, they could still feel the strain on their bodies. But at least they could still communicate through their auras. Then the cat lady punched a hole in the glass container surrounding them and grabbed their necklace.

However, the bat grabbed the other end and it resulted in a sort of tug-a-war. Meanwhile, Danny, Ellie, and Dan were having a back and form commentary on the situation and what they should do. Completely unheard by the other party.

In the corner of their eye, the three halfas finally noticed a third contender. Some kind of clown who was…hold on…holding a gun?! And it was pointed straight at the two fighting furies who had yet to notice him. The ghosts’ protective instincts went into overdrive and they frantically tried to shout, yell, move. Just do something to warn the two but their cries fell on deaf ears. All they succeeded in doing was faintly glow which immediatly caught the attention of the fighting duo. The two turned to look at the strange necklace but right at that moment, the clown fired and a gunshot rang throughout the auction room. Having no other options, Danny and the others poured every ounce of ectoplasm they had to try and phaseshift, making the two furries intangible as the bullets passed right through them, but in their shock, the two jumped away in opposite directions and accidentally ripped the necklace apart. Gems and pearls went flying and the three cores bounced along the ground.

Luckily, the two finally noticed the clown and went to deal with him and his minions who had appeared. Seemingly putting their fight on hold and forming a temporary truce. The three halfas could only watch as the battle finally wound down, ending with the cops barging into the place and arresting the clown and his grunts, the cat managing to escape with half the scattered gems and pearls from the broken necklace along with a few other jewelry pieces (none of their cores though) and the bat leaving through a skylight.

The auction continued and in the end, despite being broken, their necklace seemed to have caught someone’s interest. A man named Bruce Wayne bought up every piece of the shattered jewelry wear. The auctioneers appeared relived that the item managed to sell in the end and gratefully gave it to him.

Bruce had no idea what happened at the auction, but he could have sworn that some of the gems faintly glowed right before he and Selina were shot. If the necklace was some sort of magical item, then he needed to understand exactly what has been brought to Gotham. It was unfortunate that Selena had taken some parts of the necklace but he utilized his vast wealth to make sure all the other parts ended in his possession. Now he would take them back to the mansion for examination.

#Dpxdc #dcxdp #kizzer55555 ideas #Bruce thinks the necklace is magical. He’s technically not wrong.#When he gets home he immediately puts each gem in a glass container to examine them. For the longest time though nothing happens.#They all look like normal gems except for the main three of the piece. He can’t identify what kind of gem they are.#The gems are perfect spheres with various shades of blue (with hints of green and white) swirling around.#The colors almost look like they are moving in slow motion. Still. Nothing happens as he examines them and no strange events happen.#That is until one day he decided to take the gems to be examined by a professional and a villain attacked.#A piece of building was about to crush him when a wall of ice appeared as a shield over him. After that he took them back to the cave.#Bruce looks up thousands of documents about enchanted necklaces and artifacts but finds nothing. He even calls in favors from JLD.#Zatanna doesn’t recognize them but feels some kind of power coming off the gems however it doesn’t feel malevolent (at least for 2 of them)#(The last gem is neutral.) Also Constantine was unavailable (*cough* hiding from responsibilities *cough*)#The other bats get interested in the gems. Tim has a theory that they are some kind of protective charms. Damian agrees.#(Everyone is shocked Tim and Damian agree on something). So while Bruce is continuing his investigation the other bats decide to do some #‘Field testing’ and take the gems out. Consequently the gems end up saving their lives and they discover a few things they can do like make #The wearer invisible. Intangible. Create green barriers/constructs. Create ice. Vibrate when an enemy is coming. And much more.#The bats fashion them into new individual bracelets/necklaces and think they are the coolest thing. They have powered up protective charms!#The halfas just wish these kids would STOP PUTTING THEIR LIVES IN DANGER! What are they MORONS?!#Most of the ectoplasms they recover is used to protect the bats and nearby civilians.#(Dan also trolls people and is mostly protective his siblings though)#People notice the new power ups. A rougue gets his hands on a gem and tries to use it ONCE to attack something but the gems didn’t respond.#Then it froze the rough’s legs to the ground.#Much time later the gems are swapped between the bats and alternated and have just become a new item in their belt #(batman was not pleased but eventually got used to it and begrudgingly accepted that they were useful. Especially when they save his kids)#They come to a Justice league meeting and Constantine finally sees them.#His mouth drops in shock and he frantically asks where they got GHOST CORES?! And this is when the bats finally realise what they have.#And are horrified to realize EXACTLY what they are holding and that these ‘gems’ were technically ALIVE.#Meanwhile the three Halfas have been kinda chilling but also working their butts off to keep this family alive. It was a fulltime job.

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nellasbookplanet · 1 year ago

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M9: "sometimes we don’t want to deal with a violent fight so we just polymorph our opponent into something harmless and embarrassing and leave"

BH: "we also have a non-violent method! We put our enemies in The Hole"

M9: "oh neat! And then you leave before they can climb out?"

BH: "what no we forget about them until they run out of air and die horribly"

M9:

BH: "there are so many bodies down there"

#hey does vox machina also have a nontraditional nonviolent method of attack?#critical role #cr2 #cr3 #bells hells put ludinus and otohan in the hole challenge #it would be good for them i think #like making a child go sit in a corner but the corner is running out of air #to be fair i vaguely remember caduceus putting a dead enemy in a barrel so it would grow mushrooms for tea #so bh are far from the most morbid of the bunch lmao #nella talks cr

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breezeharbour · 9 months ago

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little guys studies, ft spyro 1 enemies that are more threatening than the game's final boss

#spyro #spyro the dragon #my art #character design #attack frogs #green wizards #enemies

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greenpostua · 12 days ago

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❗️Внаслідок масованої ракетної атаки на Ізраїль 14-го червня в Бат-Ямі загинули 5 українців, з них троє є неповнолітніми дітьми — МЗС.

📸: фото з соцмереж

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heybiji · 7 months ago

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His hand hovers over the hilt of his dagger...

Dandelion was about to kill an enemy drow who was tied down and defenseless, but hearing his party member's voice caught his attention first. Dande's also in a bit of a confused haze, having cast a new spell by accident (Hunger of Hadar) that plunged the enemies and himself into a freezing, eldritch darkness full of whispers, acid tongues, and the grazing of teeth, which reminded him a lot of being home. He may have thought it was his mother...

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minaeiix · 2 months ago

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FOES.

Enemies to lovers trope, cowgirl, edging, messy, no condom(!), Eren x black reader, aggressive, enjoy!

“That doesn’t make any sense,” you glared as eren only chuckled at your comment. He looked over his evidence before glancing back up, grinning as if he’s about to prove you wrong. Which he could never do. “According to my evidence. I am quite right.” He spoke as he tossed his file towards her, and crossed his arms against his chest. You picked up his file, and glared at him while opening it.

You glanced down and your knuckled turned white from how tight you gripped onto the papers. “No! You’re wrong!” You shouted which caused professor hange to quickly step in, “woah woah! Y/n!” She exclaimed as she quickly sets down her coffee.

She walks towards you, and rubs against your back. Eren snorted a laugh, “I’m right am I?” He smiled. You crumbled up his file and chucked it right at him. You missed but the point was clear. “Stop acting like a child,” Eren spoke out as he grabs his files and straightens it out with his hands.

Professor hange launched her arms up in the air, “that’s it! I’m done!” She announced bringing your attention back onto her. “I am officially exiting this little meeting! And you two—“ she panned her fingers between you and Eren, “will be staying in here until you guys know how to act!” Professor Hange slammed the door causing you to quickly run towards it and attempt to try and open it with every object lying beside you.

You dropped to the floor and nearly sobbed, you did not enjoy being secluded with Eren. Out of all people! You’ll rather have a bear than him, and that’s a strong claim. Eren rolled his eyes at your antics as he straightened out all the papers that was stored in the file, “you know for a 20 year old. You act like such a child.” Eren said with a laugh, you rolled your eyes.

“Shut the fuck up.” You grumbled as you sat at the far end of the elongated table. “Don’t talk to me, don’t do anything.” You stated as you wrote away on your little laptop, you hear Eren scoff causing you to peek over the device to look at him.

“What.” You say, he shook his head. “I don’t get why you hate me so much.” He says with a chuckle, you scoffed. “Really? You don’t know why I hate you so much?” Unbelievable, you moved your laptop to the side and clasped your hands together.

“Yes!” He replied. “You called me an egomaniac and a bitch.” Eren furrowed up his eyebrows, “when?” He says causing you to wave him off. “If you want to pursue in the law career, you can’t be lying off the bat.” Eren rubbed his forehead and chuckles, “you’re a lost cause.” He says causing you to kiss your teeth, “you’re the lost cause here.” You scoffed as you brought your laptop back in front of you, leaning against the chair with your leg resting over the other.

“Just a bratty girl.” Eren scoffed as he ran his arm to straighten out the final paper, you rolled your eyes. “Bratty and smart. Now what.” You retorted with a chuckle, Eren ignores you. “You fucked up my papers.” He says after the prolonged silence, you glanced up at him before glancing back down. “Nobody told you to act cocky.” You say as you wrote down the notes from your laptop and into your notebook.

“So you crumple up my papers like a little baby,” he glared. You nodded, as if that was justified and not completely wrong. Eren scoffed and slapped his files onto the table, “all my work, crumbled due to a girl who has pulls a tantrum of a child.” You rolled your eyes, “how many times are you going to call me a child?” You questioned slamming your hands on the table surface, “until you start self reflecting. You can’t be a lawyer if this is how you act when you get something wrong, y/n.” You laughed at his advice, “and who are you to tell me what I can’t or can act upon?” You said, tilting your head with sarcasm.

“A classmate.” He softly yet sternly said. You hummed, “a classmate? Well classmates don’t call other classmate dirty names, correct?” You paused gathering your stuff to stare at him. Eyes furrowed with confusion, “correct. Because I’ve never done anything to you to make you feel this way towards me.” You were done explaining to him, it was like you were hearing yourself talk.

You quickly jumped out of your chair and stuffed your laptop into your purse, along with your files and other things. You made your way to the door, completely forgetting that Professor Hange locked the door. You paused as your hand rests on the knob, you groaned aloud and sat at the chair across from Eren.

“Don’t stare at me.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

You glared at him, he had his arms crossed and his chests heaved with frustration. Despite all this bickering and hatred, Eren couldn’t push down the fact of how beautiful you look. He found it cute with all the teasing he did to gain your attention but it had gotten too far.

Crumbling his work over a miss consumption?. Eren knew he didn’t call you any of the words you listed, he would never. Even though he hated you, those never came to his mind.

Eren eyes you. Your pencil skirt wrapped against your body perfectly, shaping it out. Your hips your everything. He panned to your black blazer that matched with the skirt. It was classy, giving peeks at your body and breast. When he saw you walk into the school with it, he couldn’t look away. His eyes were glued to you. Nothing but you.

He couldn’t even focus on the assignment at hand, without having you bombard into his thoughts. He hated it. Unbeknownst to him, he bit down on his lip causing you to scoff. “Horny bastard.” You muttered to yourself as you pulled out your phone to scroll through social media to go through time.

You took a quick glance at him, his eyes were still racking down your body. You felt yourself shudder and all of a sudden you had to discreetly squeeze your legs closed to ease that throbbing pain.

You don’t know why you had that reaction to his stare, maybe it’s the pride in knowing he finds you attractive and throughout all the hatred and teasing he couldn’t help himself. You laugh which brought him to your eyes, “what’s so funny.” He asks as he removed his arms from his chest, “you. You having a crush on me. I mean it’s not surprising,” you chuckled, “have you seen me? I mean you have which is why you like me but.” You shrugged your shoulders, as eren scrunched up at your overconfident yap.

“Never liked you.” He states with disgust, “so what do you call eyeing someone you hate?” Eren shrugged and chuckled, “it’s called dozing off.” You chuckled.

“Eren just admit it. It’s okay to like me!” Eren gagged at your statement, “you acting like you don’t like me back! Even if I did.” You laughed and quickly shut down that idea, by waving your finger in the air.

“Never! Don’t try to flip this on me. I’ll never like you.”

Eren smirks, it’s his time to do all the overconfident things now. “You think I hadn’t notice you squeezing your legs?” You breath hitched making Eren chuckle. “What happened? Cat got your tongue?” He questioned through this cunning voice and malicious grin.

You stayed quiet and watched him closely, he got up from his chair to sit on the empty one beside you. As he plopped down, you got a whiff of his expensive cologne, which surprisingly got her up and running.

She throbbed against the fabric of your underwear, you scooted more further into to table to cascade your thighs squeezing together. Eren hand lands on your thigh, “nah uh. What you doing.” He whispered as he pulled you back out. You crossed your arms and averted the opposite way of him.

“Not gon look at me, now?” Eren laughs. “Where’s that other smart mouth bratty y/n?” You stayed quiet which was your demise. He turned you around with the chair, you locked eyes with him and he smirks.

His eyes ran down your body, your arms crossed it made your breast pop out more. “I don’t wanna be a pervert, but—your breast is slipping out.” Eren pointed out, you glanced down and quickly fixed the malfunction.

You gripped onto the end of the seat, “why you not talking baby?” He asks in this low and sultry voice. “I don’t like you Eren.” Eren laughed, “we went down that road already. Turns out we both like each other.” You scoffed and eyed him with disgust.

“Never.” You said. Eren hummed, “then why is your breathing heavy, baby.” You ceased your breathing to gain back control of the normal rhythm, it wasn’t happening. She kept reacting to his voice, you had to get out of here.

You quickly got up to make your way out the door, but forgetting once more to Hange locking it. You leaned forward onto the door, you took a step back but bumped into something hard.

You felt a warm breath hitting your neck, “talk to me.” Eren whispers.

“Yeah there you go. Talk f’me, tell daddy how you feel.” You slammed yourself back down onto his dick and your back curves, he got you on the table with the papers messily lying at the sides.

You straddled him and meticulously made sure you were pleasured. You didn’t care for his pleasure and neither did he. Which was surprising, given with all the men you’ve been with who only cared for their wellbeing and not the women’s. It was a turn off but Eren, god, he couldn’t give a simple fuck.

“Yeah—fuck, just like that.” He growled as his hands tightened around your waist, you moaned out his name scratching your nails down his abs, Eren sees you show signs of giving up so he quickly assists. “Cmon baby.” He urges softly as you rest down on his chest.

He thrust himself into you making you grip onto his muscular arms, “Eren!” You shouted and he grins. “Right there?” He questioned as his pace begins to quicken. You only nodded no words came out which didn’t slide for Eren, “talk to me.” He grumbled as he speeds up. “Yes! Yes! Fuck yes!” You shouted. You pray nobody was out there eavesdropping on you and Eren.

Eren laughs evilly, he felt your walls swallowing around him. He knew you were about to cum, so he brings you to that edge and then.

You opened your eyes, and sat up with a moan to his tip glazing your g spot. “W-why you stop.” You say lightly slapping his chest, he smiles softly. His brown hair was messy with some strains sticking to his forehead from the sweat. His eyes low and his chest heaved heavily. “I wanna make it last.” He says, you rolled your eyes. “Do that again,” he says breathlessly. Your eyebrows furrowed at his demand, but you followed suit.

You rolled your eyes and he quickly thrust up into you, causing your head to shot back. “Mhmm.” He moaned out, “Eren~” you moaned taking back control you picked up your hips and continued to do so until you hit that point.

You went faster with the help of Eren who egged you onto that point, “yeah, just like that cum all over daddy’s dick baby.” He says in a soft low and husky voice.

You couldn’t formulate any coherent sentences, you only stammered and moaned. Just like what he dreamed of.

He had to make this last, who knows this could be the last time he’s ever going to see you like this.

He stills himself and paints your insides white as you created this white ring going around his dick. You let out loud moans, as eren released these animalistic groans while he filled you up.

Both came down from that high, you plopped onto his chest with your hair all messy and your edges all fucked up. Eren placed his hands on your back and began to rub. “I’ve been waiting to shut that mouth up so bad with this dick.” He muttered as he kissed along your shoulder, you didn’t say anything knowing you’ve been aching for this to happen as well.

“Whatever.” You muttered.

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