Y’all are chilling at his place, TV playing in the background. You jokingly call him out—something like, “You all tough in the streets, but lowkey soft with me.” Spooky turns his head slow, brows raised, a lazy smirk spreading across his lips.

“That’s cute.” He leans in closer, voice low and slick.

“You keep talkin’ like that, that mouth gon’ get you in trouble.”

He doesn’t break eye contact. Doesn’t blink. Just slides a hand across your thigh.