Spiked angel

18+ MDNI

You were laying atop a colorful beach towel, belly down, reading your romance novel by the pool. A luxury very rare for any of the cleaners but Corvus had said Team Akuta deserved a break this time around. Rudo, Zanka, and Enjin were actin like fools by the deep end, splashin and causing a ruckus. Meanwhile Riyo and Semiu laid on either side of you catching a tan-in semiu’s defense she was also “checkin’ out the honeys” under her shades. All of a sudden darkness looms over you with an added smell of cigarettes. “How’s it going mama?” You flip over and look at the tall blonde over your sunglasses, a glimmer of mischief in your eyes. “Goin well papi, but what about the boys?” He shrugs and exhales smoke through his nostrils grinning, “Had to come check out my favorite view, they’ll be fine on their own. Wanna get wet?” He winks at you, the other females rolling their eyes and groaning at your fiancé. Before you could respond, however, you hear Zanka yelling at Rudo, something along the lines of “I’ll dunk ya punk!” Enjin’s shoulders deflate and even though he still looks like a God amongst boys he submits to his “fatherly duties” as you call them. “I’m comin for ya later my sun bathing goddess.”

The hotel room had a romantic ambiance to it; warm lightning, decent open windows, and of course rose petals your cheesy fiancé convinced the younger boys to help him buy. Hot lips kiss up and down your neck from behind, long inked fingers pulling at the ties of your bathing suit. “Mmm you think you’re slick huh?” He chuckles and it’s deep from within his chest, vibrating against your skin. “Yeah? Maybe. Can’t I show appreciation to my lil summer goddess?” He gently grasps your chin with his palm, turns your head, and kisses you deeply but far too quickly for your liking. “Lemme worship ya mama.”

That’s all it took to be pressed against the window, tits out but engulfed by Enjin’s big hands. “Fuuuuck babygirl, you feel so good, and you look great- ngh- like seein’ your tan lines.” You can’t even form a coherent thought before he’s taking the pace up and pounding you from behind, ass almost sore from the impact of his pelvis. “En-Jin- FUCK!” “Oooohhhh baby imma get you pregnant TONIGHT!! Ugh so wet! Sooo fuckin’ good!” He slaps your ass and grips it hard shoving his engorged cock one last time, “yeaaaahh!” Needless to say your last day of vacation was spent in the bed resting your poor limbs.

I hope everyone loved this! It’s the first day of my summertime event!☀️🫶🏼

Much love to the continued support and I also have a Patreon (Breezy) where I post different works too!

Yours.

He paused outside the door for a second longer than usual, one eyebrow slowly rising. Then he pushed it open with his shoulder and stepped inside.

The room was dim. Papers and candy wrappers littered the desk as usual, and a few pieces of clothing had been carelessly thrown over the back of a chair. Everything looked almost exactly as he had left it. Almost, because you were sitting on his bed.

Your legs were tucked beneath you as though you belonged there, your hair slightly mussed, your expression far too calm for someone who had just been caught trespassing in another person’s room. And you were wearing his jacket.

Enjin stopped in the doorway. First, he looked at you. Then at the jacket. Then back at you. The corner of his mouth slowly curved upward.

“Well, this is a nice welcome,” he drawled, kicking the door shut behind him. “I’ve imagined plenty of things waiting for me in here, but a cute little thief wasn’t one of them.”

You pulled the jacket more tightly around yourself, though the gesture looked far more teasing than modest.

“I didn’t steal it. I borrowed it.”

“While sitting on my bed?”

“The atmosphere seemed appropriate.”

Enjin let out a quiet laugh and started toward you, slow and unhurried. Almost as if he were giving you time to change your mind. Not that you looked like you planned to.

“So,” he said, stopping in front of the bed, “what brought you here? Other than your sudden interest in my wardrobe.”

You looked up at him.

“I was cold.”

His gaze dropped to the jacket.

“Right.”

“Very cold.”

“So cold that you had to break into my room specifically?”

“Your jacket is warm.”

“Uh-huh.” He tilted his head. “And where are your clothes?”

You didn’t answer.

The silence stretched between you, deliberate and unmistakable.

Enjin’s smile sharpened. His eyes, playful only a moment ago, darkened as the meaning of your silence finally sank in.

“Wait a second,” he murmured.

You blinked up at him innocently.

“What?”

His gaze moved slowly over you, from your face to the jacket hanging loosely around your body, then lower, to your bare knees and the fingers clutching the fabric closed at your chest.

A breathless laugh escaped him.

“You’re serious.”

You gave a small shrug.

“Do you not like it?”

For a moment, Enjin simply stared. Then he dragged a hand down his face, as if physically trying to gather what remained of his self-control, and let out a low, rough laugh.

“Like it?” he repeated. “You’re sitting on my bed, wearing my jacket, and underneath it…”

His voice trailed off. When he looked at you again, the expression in his eyes sent heat racing through your body faster than any piece of clothing ever could.

“Damn,” he breathed. “You really know how to welcome a man home after a long day.”

You smiled.

“I made an effort.”

“I can tell.”

He lowered himself onto one knee in front of you, bracing his hands against the mattress on either side of your hips.

Still not touching you. Just close enough to make the space between you feel unbearably small.

“So what happens now?” he asked, his voice lower, rougher. “Do I take my jacket back?”

You leaned closer.

“You can try.”

Enjin held your gaze.

For a second, something almost boyishly pleased flickered across his face: an unguarded, genuine kind of delight that he usually hid beneath lazy smiles and a perpetually tired tone.

“Dangerous thing to say.”

“For who?”

His smile widened.

“Me, obviously.”

You laughed, but the sound caught in your throat when he finally placed a hand on your leg. His thumb brushed slowly over your knee.

Then his palm slipped beneath the hem of the jacket, gliding upward along the inside of your thigh.

His touch was almost weightless, so careful it felt as though he were afraid to break the strange, warm intimacy of the moment. A shiver ran over your skin. You tipped your head back, catching your lower lip between your teeth.

“Did you really come here just because you were cold?” he asked, softer now.

You looked back at him. Your smile lost its teasing edge.

“I missed you.”

Enjin went still. Only for a moment.

Then the playful look on his face softened into something warmer. He lifted a hand and brushed a loose strand of hair away from your cheek, letting his fingers linger there.

“You should’ve led with that.”

“And the jacket?”

“The jacket,” he murmured, leaning closer until his lips nearly touched yours, as his hand underneath jacket wandered toward the most intimate place, “is officially your problem now.”

“Mine?”

“Mm-hm.”

His mouth brushed the corner of yours.

“Because I’m not sure I want it back anymore.”

You barely had time to smile before he kissed you. Slowly at first, deeply, still holding on to that careful restraint, as if he wanted to draw the moment out for as long as possible.

It lasted right up until you grabbed him by the collar and pulled him closer, a soft moan slipping into his mouth.

Enjin exhaled against your lips.

— 𑣲⋆｡˚ suggestive ❨ just friends ? ❩ ft. yandere! tamsy caines

why should tamsy care? after all you two are just friends.

but friends don’t fuck and then ghost each other. and it was never him who ghosted you, it was you. i mean he’s tamsy caines. he shouldn’t be annoyed by it, one because he’s a narcissist, two because he’s a manipulative and three who randomly targeted a young boy and destroy everything he has to get him at his best potential.

but why?

because he saw something in you that he wanted to mold. something raw, untouched and perfect. and tamsy caines always gets what he wants — then reshapes it into his image. you were never just a friend. you were his next masterpiece. and masterpieces require sacrifice. starting with your precious little heart.

i mean ghosting him was your act of rebellion, the only card you had left to play. you thought sleeping with him and then vanishing would prove you weren't just another toy in his collection, that you wouldn't fall into his rhythm. but for a narcissist like tamsy, rejection isn't an ending—it’s a personal insult. it’s a crack in the mirror.

but why?

because he's obsessed with control. and you took that away from him. he can't have you, and that drives him insane. he wants to punish you for daring to walk away, but more than that, he wants you back. not as a friend, not as a hook up—as his.

because for tamsy caines, he is the one who creates the pain, never the one who feels it.

and you broke the golden rule: the hunter doesn't get haunted. by walking away after being that intimate with him, you stripped him of his control. those hallway stares aren't just longing—they are a wounded predator trying to understand how the prey slipped the trap.

he couldn’t manipulate you, he couldn't hurt you. you were the key to his heart—something he never wanted to admit, something he never wanted to feel. every time he sees you, every time he remembers that night, it's a reminder of his weakness.

you are his weakness.

but there’s good memories, the ones where you brushed his long beautiful hair while metal rock was playing on his radio— and those times where you put his hair into a bun— or that one time you kissed his cheek

those memories itch at him. those were the moments when the carefully constructed walls of the manipulation started to crumble. the long hair—he'd never let anyone touch it, let alone brush it and put it up. only you. he'd be sitting there, music blasting, all metal and chaos, but somehow when your hands were in his hair, it felt peaceful.

that cheek kiss was the final nail in the coffin. it wasn't sexual, it wasn't demanding—it was pure affection. and tamsy, a man who thrives on manipulation and destruction, had absolutely no defense against it. you weren't fucking him; you were loving him. you domesticated the monster. that’s why he can't move on.

he thinks in the future, just maybe one day— to all those people you loved end up dead on the chairs, on the day you two get married. old 90s music playing while smudging the blood on his pretty white suit. waiting any moment for you walk down the aisle

he plays that scenario in his head like a twisted romantic comedy. you walking down the aisle in white, surrounded by chaos, and him standing there in his immaculate white suit — the only one clean, the only one waiting. he'd have slaughtered everyone who ever hurt you, every person who made you smile but never really knew you. a bloody altar, for you. and only you.

or maybe he decides that kissing on top of the piles of the dead body underneath you two is more his style. in his eyes, that’d be his ultimate goal. he wouldn’t mind the smell of the iron blood, the smell of human flesh and your scent mixing in with the rotten humans.

after all, what better way to seal a love than with blood and destruction? your kiss would taste like copper, your hands stained red as you hold each other.

Another gorgeous panel of rudo AAAA also how does his hair work frfr