cw: fem!reader, he’s a little shit but that’s expected, workplace romance(?), backshots <3
Lawyer!Sukuna whose complicated coffee order appeases the sick side of himself that enjoys making everyone's day a little harder than it should be. There’s at least 3 shots of espresso in there and he has it with a warm, buttery croissant and 50 mg of adderall each morning.
Lawyer!Sukuna who doesn’t have many morals when it comes to his job. His entire motto is “just because you did it, doesn’t mean you’re guilty”. He defends clients he shouldn't have taken to begin with and wins millions when he shouldn't have even won in the first place.
Lawyer!Sukuna who, in the early days of his career, was forced to take an empathy workshop. There was no doubt he was talented, he had a knack for overwhelming those he questioned so much that they just looked guilty from how he had them stuttering and tumbling over their words, a lot of time second guessing themselves from the way he’d straight up gaslight them. But his boss drew the line when he told a plaintiff "the more you cry, the longer this'll take" before cackling in the middle of cross examination.
Not that it helped, but he brought the firm enough money to make them turn a blind eye to the fact that one of their associates may or may not be a sociopath.
Lawyer!Sukuna who, when he first met you, didn’t even look at you, let alone bother to remember your name. Not like there was a point, associates and paralegals came and went. He did not a give a single fuck about you, that is until the first time he reviewed a letter you drafted. Usually he had to rewrite them himself— make them sound a little sharper, more straight to the point, more... threatening. But yours? That was the first time he had the chance to actually sit back and read instead of actively trying to look for what was wrong. Hell, it even got a couple laughs out of him.
He didn't just tolerate you after that, he enjoyed working with you. You were more than competent enough to do your job, and that ended up giving him a sense of relief while doing his own job since he knew he didn't have to babysit you.
Lawyer!Sukuna who soon started to keep you within arms reach, going as far as insisting that you start coming to court with him, saying, "it's not like you have anything better to do." He also started offering to drive instead of taking separate cars. You'd decline here and there, but would ultimately give in after being shot an offended glare and being accused of thinking he was a bad driver.
It was awkward at first, his silence was loud. If only you knew how much he enjoyed it, the way you tried to fill that silence even though it was clear how nervous you were from truly being alone with him. It got better over time though. The silence still barely gets filled, but it became the much needed moments of clarity you both needed before the chaos hit— the chaos being Sukuna attacking others for 8 hours straight.
Lawyer!Sukuna who knew he liked you a little more than he should after a couple months— he looked forward to starting off his days in a calm car ride to the courthouse with you. Had he been a better man, he would've cut back on the time he didn't have to spend with you, but he was too used to how soft you spoke to him in the moments leading up to a trial, and the little things you'd do like adjusting his tie at the very last minute. You cared about him and he didn’t need it, but it was nice to have for once.
You two have even ended some days at some beat up, hole in the wall diner. Some nights you two would continue talking about the case, while some were spent talking about your own lives while sharing a large plate of under salted fries— too interested to learn more about you that complaining to the waitress about the food never crossed his mind. You ignored how comfortable you two had gotten with each other, just like how you'd ignore the way he'd look at you longer than he should.
Or the way he'd wipe some sauce off of the corner of your mouth with a napkin.
Or how he started placing his hand on the small of your back whenever he led you in or out of a room.
Lawyer!Sukuna who got a little too touchy with you one night while celebrating yet another win. It was late into the night, the office was empty and a second bottle of champagne had already been popped opened. A hand on your knee turned into him dragging you on to his lap, tipsy and murmuring all the nasty shit he's always wanted to do to you in between all the kisses he left all over your neck and chest.
None of it surprised you, you knew who he was. His shamelessness continued into the way he had you pressed up against his chest, feeling your heart beating impossibly fast as he grabbed on to your hips and slowly grinded you down on his length.
You all but let out a soft, breathy moan when he first did it and you could feel his grin widening against your neck.
He doesn't stop when he asks in a raspy tone, "feels good, huh?" All he got was a nod, but that was enough for him to keep going— crashing his lips into yours as he continued to grind up into you, harder. You could feel how thick he was through his slacks and could only imagine how fucking big he actually was underneath everything— leaving you wondering what you've gotten yourself into.
"You gonna let me do more to you?" he murmurs in that low tone of his, asking for once in his life rather than just taking. And he had you so dazed in the moment that you did let him do more. You wanted him to do more.
Before you know it your skirts bunched up and your panties are moved to the side, he has you leaning against his desk while he slowly runs his tip through your folds, your breath catches every time he rubs it against your clit. The whole time he's in your ear, taunting you for wet you are, then telling you how he was going to take such good care of you.
Yet nothing could prepare you for when he slowly pushed in and bottomed out, not bothering to pull back once. The last couple inches pull a sharp gasp out of you and all he does is continue to taunt you by letting out a pleased hum from the way you struggled to take it.
His hands were back on your hips before you got the chance to collect yourself and slowly started thrusting, pulling you back to meet every single one, helping you take every single inch he gave you.
Lawyer!Sukuna who tries to be gentle at first and talks you through it while you adjust to his length, but the sweet little sounds that came out of you slowly chipped away at his patience.
The sight of his office is obscene. His desk is completely cleared, all the papers that were on it are now all over the floor. One hands pressing your back down into an arch and the other has your hair wrapped around it as he mercilessly drove his cock into you, hitting your sweet spot over and over again. You don’t know how long it’s been since he started to actually fuck you and you continue to lose more track of time every time he makes you cum around his cock, hard.
It’s filthy. He’s filthy. The sounds of harsh slaps and wet squelches fill every single inch of his damn office and you’re just thankful no one’s around to hear all of the degrading shit he says to you.
And that you’re enjoying it— up until the very end when he starts filling you up with so much cum that it starts to spill out well before he fully finishes.
By the end of it, you’re utterly spent. Both of you are, actually. You’re still trying to catch your breath when he pulls your skirt back down and pulls you back into his lap once more.
Except this time it’s less horny and more—
“What the fuck just happened?”
notes: dropping a 1 am post bc i refused to go to bed until i finished this
thinking about onyankapon playing with collegestudent!reader’s pussy while driving her home from the club…hmmmm..
cw: onyankapon x fem!black reader, smut (mdni), p!link included, established relationship, clit play, fingering while driving, dom!ony, reader is drunk, mention of liquor, lowk just foreplay, use of papa, not proofread (ignore typos)
visual
Ony was really planning on lecturing the whole ride home when you called him to come pick you up because you’d been slacking lately. He sighed when he answered the phone, your voice slurring but still understandable enough for him to hear you the first time.
He was quiet at first, but that silence wasn’t peace—it was tense. One hand on the wheel, the other resting heavy on your thigh almost immediately after you stumbled in the car like it belonged there, his thumb tapping like he was counting down before he snapped.
The second you slid into the passenger seat, the smell of liquor clinging to your skin, you leaned across the console with a sloppy grin. “Hiii, papa,” you dragged it out, plump lips puckered as you tried to press a kiss to his lips. Your words were all syrupy and sweet, but your body was clumsy, damn near falling into his lap. Onyankapon caught you with one hand on your shoulder, jaw tight. “Sit back.” His voice was flat, firm, as he guided you into the seat like you were a child who couldn’t stay still. You back hit the cold leather as you looked at him, “Why you dont wan’ kiss m—“
“You not actin’ right.” he cut you off, shifting gears and putting his foot on the gas. You didn’t even question it, the corners of your glossed lips dipped into a frown as you turned your head to look out the window. That look he always caught you making when he wasn’t kissing your ass.
He looked over at you real quick before putting his eyes back on the road. “You out here actin’ like you grown, but can’t handle your responsibilities. Think everything a joke till it’s not. Skipping class, not pickin’ up when I call, drinkin’ like you ain’t got shit to do tomorrow…you think that’s responsible? That’s childish, mama. I ain’t raise no little girl, I got a woman sittin’ next to me, right?”
You and Onyankapon had only been dating for four -ish years, and he always said that to you when you needed to be checked—even though he’s just a few years older than you. Still, he loved reminding you how disorganized and all over the place you were before him, like he took pride in being the one who steadied you.
As much as you shouldn’t, you always got turned on when he talked to you like this. When you were sober, you usually would hide it and let him have lecture you but since you’re not you weren’t hiding it as well (the fact that you were already thinking about him while you were out wasn’t helping at all.)
You slouched in the passenger seat, hiccuping softly, braids falling across your face. “Mmm… you always so serious,” you murmured, tilting your head just enough to lock eyes with him. Your voice was thick with the shots you took before you left.
Without warning, you shifted in the seat, turning your body toward him. Your hand reached to drag slow across his chest, down his torso, fingers pressing into him like you needed something to hold onto. He always looked good but he looks extra good tonight for some reason, you just wanted to be in his skin.
“…you don’t wanna love on me?” you slurred, lips curling into a drunk grin. “You look s’good right now. I was thinkin’ ’bout you the whooole time… look.”
You fully turned to him so your back was to the door, spread your legs, slid your dress up over your thighs, bare pussy on display, slick already glistening, dripping down your entrance.
Ony’s grip on the wheel twitched when he seen you just spread yourself open without a second thought while he was driving. He was a little taken-aback because you didn’t even hesitate to expose yourself to him in a public space, which was unlike you. It was also a late Saturday night so it’s not like there was nobody on the road, you just didn’t give a fuck.
“You—” he mumbled as he stared at your drooling pussy, visibly pulsing like it was begging for him before he even touched you. His hand dragging down his face before it landed heavy on your inner thigh, palm caressing your skin, your bottom lip tugged between your teeth as you watched his hand moving dangerously close to where you need him. “You sittin’ here wet as fuck while i’m tryna talk to you.”
But instead of pulling away, his thumb pressed down, lazily circling your clit. The wheel stayed steady in his other hand, but his voice dropped lower, teeth gritted. “Got me riskin’ our life ‘cause you don’t know how to behave.” The sudden stimulation you’ve been waiting for all night made you let out a soft moan, close your eyes and your head loll back, hitting the tinted window behind you.
Ony’s thumb dipped lower, brushing against the wetness pooling at your entrance, then slid back up in a slow, calculated stroke. Soft, breathy moans spilling from your lips, louder this time, messy and unrestrained.
“You wasn’t paying attention to shit I said when you sat your ass in here. You need to listen to me,” he demanded, voice firm, even while his thumb worked your clit slow, steady, making your thigh tremble uncontrollably. Your nails dug into the leather seat, your pussy clenching around nothing.
“…I am papa,” you breathed, voice breaking into a whine, head tipping back against the window, eyes glassy and unfocused, your mind hazy with nothing but him.
Onyankapon’s lips curved into the smallest smirk, like he had heard something funny. “Mhm…you always say that when I’m makin’ you feel good. You not listenin’.”
You weren’t, you could only look down at his finger as gradually sped up, shivering, chest rising and falling in ragged breaths.
“Y-yeaahhh I ammm… ohhh fffuck…” you moaned, your back arching off the door behind you.
The streetlights flashed past the windshield, casting sharp shadows over his face as he drove like it was nothing, smooth and steady, yet his pace never faltered.
His thumb pressed tighter, sliding down again to gather more of your slick before dragging it back up, spreading it slow over your swollen clit. He started shaking his head, eyes locked on the road, knuckles flexing on the wheel.
Your body jolted at the sharper stroke, thighs twitching, a high-pitched whimper slipping out before you could bite it back. “P-please, I am, I’m listenin’, I swear—”
“No,” he cut you off, voice steady but edged with heat. “You hearin’ me, but you not takin’ it in. Always gotta have shit my way before you learn.” His words were calm, but the pressure of his thumb contradicted every ounce of patience in his tone, circling faster, harder, dragging sounds out of you that filled the car louder than the engine.
Your hands flying to his forearm, clinging like you needed him to slow down, but your hips betrayed you—grinding, chasing more of what he gave. Your voice cracked around a moan, incoherent.
Ony’s had a look in his eyes like he was contemplating stopping the car in the middle of the street and just fucking you right there as you were moaning his name like its all you knew. Your slick dripping down his seat, moans spilling out with no rhythm or restraint. He tried to keep it light to keep his focus on the road, but the sound of you, the heat rolling off your body, the way you were damn near crying for him—it pushed him over that line.
“Man, fuck this…” he growled under his breath, his hand left the wheel for half a second, snapping your thighs open wider before two of his thick fingers slid inside you without warning. The wet squelch filled the car, your gasp ripping through the air, sharp and needy.
Your body jerked, nails clawing deeper at the leather, eyes rolling back as your walls clenched tight around him. “Ohnnnyyy—ahhh! Ohmygod—”
Ony started dragging it out, fucking you on his fingers slow, thumb barely grazing your clit just enough to keep you twitching but not enough to push you over. Your little whines and the way your hips chased his hand had him twitching in his pants, but he kept that same steady pace—until he felt your walls start to grip down around him. That’s when he switched it up.
“Mhm, greedy ass pussy—tryna milk my fingers like it’s dick.” his tone covered in heat, almost a growl as his fingers drove into you harder, faster, curling with every pump, thumb pressing into your clit in rough, tight circles. The sloppy sounds of your pussy filled the car, wetness spilling down his knuckles, making the leather under you damp. The sudden pace had you crying out, body jumping, thighs clamping around his wrist as cream started coating his fingers thick. “Waitwaitwait!… I’m… I’m gonna… ohhh, shiiittt…!” you cried as your eyebrows furrowed, eyes rolling back.
“Yeah, there you go,” he grunted, never slowing down while you gushed around him, messy and loud, your release dripping down to his palm. Your head fell back, mouth open on a broken moan, body jerking helplessly as he worked you through it, thumb grinding mercilessly into your clit until you were damn near sobbing, shaking under his hand.
Ony’s smirk tuned into a lazy smile as he looked at the way your legs still twitched after he slowed. He eased his fingers out slow, coated in creamy release, before suddenly shoving them in your mouth while you were try to catch your breath.
His fingers stayed in your mouth, heavy on your tongue while you sucked them clean, eyes hazy and cheeks hollowing around his knuckles. The taste of yourself coated your tongue, making your thighs press tight together as he drove like nothing was happening.
The car slowed to a stop at a red light. Ony finally dragged his fingers from between your lips, slick glistening in the passing glow of the streetlamps.
“Sit up,” he ordered, voice low and rough. His hand curled in a lazy ‘come here’ motion.
You obeyed instantly, chest rising fast as you pushed yourself off the window. He wrapped his fingers around your throat, his still-wet fingers cold against your skin.
The pressure made your breath hitch, but before you could melt all the way into it, Ony leaned in, catching your mouth in a deep kiss. His tongue slid past your lips, tasting the sweetness of your slick still lingering on your tongue, swallowing the soft whimper that left your throat.
The glow turned green, and he pulled back, dragging a thumb slow over your spit slicked plump bottom lip. “Messy ass girl. Keep it together till we get home,” he uttered, the tone in his voice let you know that he wasn’t just gonna let you doze off until the morning.
a man who adjusts to your every need. who kisses you every morning. who never lets you go to sleep angry with him. a man who knows every inch of you, every scar, mole, bump.
a man who never raises his voice at you. who lets his body language talk when he's angry. whose skin bubbles with heat as he crosses his arms and tilts his head, listening to your rant before nodding. "you're right, sugar. im sorry."
a man who practically begs you to let him make it better, kissing from your toetips all the way up to where your night shorts stop, barely covering any of your brown skin. who takes them down with his teeth because even though he's sorry, he's still got his pride.
a man who doesn't let up on your pleasure. who stays nursing on your clit like he's a baby. who makes you cum three times before even thinking about fucking you, your thighs sticky with sweat as he settles between them.
a man who fucks you in heavy, slooooww strokes that drag every vein through your walls. whose groans are low and sensual, driving fire to your clit and ovaries as he sweats, his body hot against yours. he notices how your stomach twitches softly as he lays his hand over it, how your walls suddenly close tight enough for him to halt his movements.
"like it when i lay my hand here, honey? when i feel my cock inside you? you like that?" his voice is taunting. he knows you like it. he knows because your moans suddenly pick up in volume, and your feet next to either of his ears nearly fall from his shoulders. he doesn't let you run from him, though. he wraps one of his arms around your knees, keeping your feet hopelessly in the air as he thrusts into you with debaucherous vigor.
a man who overstimulates every nerve in your body at once, sending you floating off as you come. who holds you through it, watching as your eyes roll like you're possessed. he can't get enough of it, not until you're practically choking, stumbling over how good it feels, how you can't take it anymore. the screams of his name into the heavy air of your bedroom just egging him on to make you cum again. to push your limit. to watch your soul wander from your body for a moment.
a man whose job and life purpose is to please you, a man who's intimate.
2.k+ words, sweet and domestic, sex on the dinner table, light choking, no condom(wrap it), creampie, he's so good to you, reader has nipple piercing, pet names (e.g sweetie, honey, and baby), sloppy kissing, aftercare, etc.
He smelled like eucalyptus and that cheap-ass lotion he never stopped buying. You heard the front door close a few minutes ago, then the water run, and now his quiet footsteps padded through the hallway—slippers on, joggers slung low, white tank snug across that thick chest. The tattoos on his arms looked even darker with his freshly moisturized skin. He was finally home.
You stood in the kitchen, stirring the greens like you weren’t watching his reflection in the microwave door.
“You showered fast.”
“I was already halfway in the bathroom when I got home,” he said, voice deep and casual. He leaned on the fridge with his arms folded, eyes dragging over you slow and hungry. “Smells good in here.”
“You mean me or the food?”
His mouth twitched. “Don’t start.”
Too late. You turned with a little smile and sashayed over, still in your tiny cotton shorts and an old tank that hugged you just right. “Dinner’s ready,” you said sweetly, stepping into his space. “But I want something else first.”
He raised an eyebrow, already suspicious. “I’m hungry.”
“So am I.” You slid your hand down his belly, over that soft muscle and tattooed skin, and felt him tense. He didn’t say a word—just looked at you like he was trying real hard to be patient.
“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” you said, voice dropping, pout growing. “Missed you so bad I was gonna come up to your job and get you to fuck me there.”
He gave a slow exhale, low and controlled. “You need to wait ‘til I eat, baby.”
You stepped back with a dramatic sigh and flung your arm over your forehead. “Fine. I’ll just go lay in traffic. Or jump off a bridge. Or—or drown myself in the sink like a fly—”
“Sweetie.” His voice cut sharp through your theatrics, the warning thick in it.
Your mouth shut, but your smile stayed. You met his eyes and bit your lip just enough to drive him mad.
“You don’t listen for shit, do you?” he muttered as he stepped forward and cupped the back of your neck. His hand was warm and heavy, and he leaned down like he was about to lecture you. “Always talking reckless. You gon’ learn tonight.”
You hummed, soft and smug. “Promise?”
He gripped your wrist and spun you back around, chest pressed to your back, his hand firm at your lower back. You barely had time to catch your breath before he bent you forward against the counter.
“You don’t listen,” he muttered, his voice hot against your ear, one hand palming your ass. “But you still expect rewards, huh?”
You gasped, hands gripping the edge of the counter as he pressed into you. The thick outline of him dragged between your cheeks through your thin shorts, slow and taunting. His other hand came down with a light smack on your ass, just enough to make you arch.
“I missed you,” you breathed, eyes fluttering as he leaned over your back and kissed along your shoulder, slow and dirty. “You just got home and I—I needed you.”
He grunted and rocked against you again. “Yeah? You needed my dick that bad?”
“Yes,” you whimpered, already breathless. “But I wanna see you.” You turned your head, looking at him over your shoulder. “Please?”
That made him pause. His grip shifted, and he pulled you up—chest to chest now—and you turned in his arms, kissing him quick and needy before whispering:
“I wanna see your face when you fuck me. You look so mean when you’re soft with me.”
That hit him somewhere deep. He exhaled hard through his nose, shaking his head like you were some kind of witch. “You’re going to kill me one day,” he muttered.
Then he grabbed your thighs, hoisted you up, and sat you right on the table next to the untouched dinner.
“Sit still,” he said low, and tugged your tank up to your chin, exposing your pierced breasts. He leaned in, kissing one nipple, then the other, slow and warm before letting his teeth graze. His tongue flicked the barbell just right—sharp enough to make you shiver.
Then came his mouth. Hot, desperate, hungry. He kissed you full and wet, tongue licking into your mouth like he was starving for it. You moaned as you sucked on his tongue, pulling him closer with your legs around his waist.
He broke the kiss just to speak against your lips, hand wrapping lightly around your throat. “Keep sucking my tongue like that, sweetie, and I’ll fuck you right here ‘til the food goes cold.”
“Good,” you whispered, breath shaking. “Let it go cold.”
He chuckled under his breath at your boldness. “You’re lucky I like you crazy, baby.”
Then he pulled your shorts off with one smooth tug, panties with them—leaving you bare under him.
The sight made him pause. He bit his bottom lip, his tattooed fingers trailing slowly over your inner thigh, dragging up to press right against your center. “So wet already,” he murmured, watching you squirm under his touch. “What happened to waiting ‘til after dinner?”
“Starving now,” you whispered, rolling your hips into his hand. “Feed me something else.”
That earned you a growl, low and rumbling from his chest. He shoved his sweats just low enough to free his cock, thick and veiny, already hard. He gripped the base and let it rest against your folds, dragging slow to tease, letting you feel the weight of him.
“You ready for it?” he asked, voice rough like gravel. “Tell me you need it.”
“I need it,” you gasped, arms hooked over his shoulders as you locked eyes. “Need you deep, baby. Please.”
He pushed in slow, the stretch almost painful, almost too much—but perfect. You moaned so loud he had to kiss you again, swallowing the sound with his tongue back in your mouth, messy and deep, kissing like he was punishing you for needing him so bad.
Your legs shook as he sank in deeper. He held your throat just firm enough to keep you focused, other hand palming your breast, thumb brushing the barbell. The pressure sent heat shooting through you.
“You always so sweet and stupid when I’m inside you,” he muttered against your lips, voice strained. “Pussy feels like heaven, honey. Like you was made for me.”
He pulled back and slammed in hard. Your breath hitched, hands flying to grip his arms. Another thrust—harder. Again. The table creaked beneath you, your moans slipping out uncontrollably with every rough push.
His hand tightened on your throat, just enough to make your vision blur around the edges, to make you dizzy with pleasure.
“Look at me,” he ordered, voice low and tight. “Keep lookin’ at me.”
You did. Teary-eyed, lips parted, you watched him—the flex of his jaw, the furrow of his brows, the soft curl of affection around the edges of his stern face. Even now, he looked at you like he owned you. Like you were his favorite thing in the world.
“Fuck,” he groaned, hand sliding down to your waist. “You love this dick, huh?”
“I love you,” you whispered, chest trembling. “So much. Love you so bad, baby.”
He stilled, eyes locked with yours. That softness crept in again, thick and warm and devastating. He kissed you—gentler this time, but still deep. His tongue danced with yours, slow and slick, his breath shaky.
Then he fucked you like he meant it. Long, rough strokes. Pressure building tight in your gut, heat curling low. The table rocked beneath you. Your nails clawed at his back.
“I’m close,” you whimpered.
“Come on me,” he grunted. “Soak this dick, ma. Let feel you lose it.”
You did. With a broken cry, your walls clenched, back arching as waves of pleasure overtook you. He didn’t slow down. He growled low, shoved in deep one last time—hips jerking as he came inside you, hot and heavy, burying his face in your neck with a deep groan.
The room went quiet but for your panting. His arms wrapped tight around your waist, holding you to him like you might float off.
“I’ll warm up your plate,” you whispered against his cheek, voice still shaky.
“Nah,” he said softly, kissing your collarbone. “Gimme a second. Then I’m feedin’ you myself.” His breath was still hot against your neck when he finally leaned back, hands slow and steady as he helped you down from the table. Your legs wobbled a little, but he caught you easily, arms strong and sure around your waist.
“Come here, baby,” he murmured, guiding you toward the couch with his sweats still low on his hips, your legs bare. “Need to check on you.”
You melted into the cushions as he knelt in front of you. His fingers were gentle now—stroking your thighs, brushing curls from your face, resting against the soft skin of your belly where your shirt had ridden up.
“You okay?” he asked, his voice quiet, eyes scanning your face like you were the most fragile thing in the room.
You gave him a sleepy, satisfied smile. “I’m perfect. Sore, but perfect.”
He huffed a soft laugh, leaned in and kissed your knee. “Better be. You talk all that mess, then come like you ain’t got no damn sense.”
You grinned. “I wanted your attention ”
“You had it,” he said, serious now, his voice like gravel. “Always got it, honey.”
He stood and scooped you into his arms before you could even blink, carrying you to the bathroom with ease. You giggled, hands curled into the front of his shirt.
“I can walk, you know.”
“You barely stood up. Sit back and let me take care of you.”
And he did.
He ran a warm cloth between your thighs, taking his time, murmuring quiet praise with every gentle pass. He pressed kisses to your inner knee, your hip, your belly, everywhere his mouth could reach while you leaned against the counter with a little smile, love all in your eyes.
Once you were cleaned up, he helped you into his shirt—big and soft, swallowing your frame—then took your hand and walked you to the kitchen like you hadn’t just made him forget all about dinner.
“I’ll fix your plate,” you said, moving toward the stove.
“Nah, sit,” he said, tugging you back by your wrist. “You been workin’ me all evening. It’s my turn.”
He filled your plate the way he knew you liked it—meat, just enough cabbage, heavy on the yams. Sat it down in front of you with a kiss to the top of your head, then filled his own and took the seat across the table.
You both ate slow, eyes meeting every few minutes like the whole world had shrunk down to this—soft light, warm food, and the two of you still glowing from everything you shared.
Halfway through the meal, he reached across the table, traced a thumb across your cheekbone. “You got somethin’ on your face.”
You licked your lips. “Yam?”
“Love,” he said, just barely smiling. “All over you.”
You laughed, a little breathless. “Ugh, you're so corny.”
Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC (Patrice Ellis)
Word Count: 1,672
Warnings: Mature Content, Smut
It was Patrice's party, and she could cry if she wanted to.
That'd been her refrain since April 23, 1992, in Wilmington, NC, when Patrice Nicole Ellis came into the world crying as if someone had stolen something from her. According to her mother, she screamed and hollered for so long that the other babies in the nursery couldn't help but join, filling the entire floor with inescapable wailing for an entire night. Rosalyn was then under strict orders not to bring her little ray of sunshine back until her crying situation had been sorted.
When she was ten, Patrice cried when her father misunderstood the assignment and purchased a generic Black doll instead of the Madison My Scene doll she placed two stars on her wishlist. Even though her mama promised to rectify the situation the second they left her birthday party, Patrice cried until her uncle slipped a few extra dollars into the front pocket of her pretty pink overalls.
At 21, after a years-long crying hiatus, Patrice found herself drunk and crying with her friends inside the grungy bathroom of some out-of-code party warehouse a short distance from her college campus. There was nothing wrong, really. Nothing except one too many shots of bottom shelf vodka reminding her that she'd be graduating soon and there were dwindling opportunities for The Trio to spend their nights together from miles apart. The thought of entering adulthood without her best girls was enough to turn her into a sobbing mess while holding up the bathroom line.
The last time she cried was the birthday she spent swollen and pregnant, fighting with an onslaught of emotions that had no rhyme or reason. The culprit was an insatiable desire for hot chips in the middle of the night and the crippling realization that she couldn't have the smallest nibble of a snack she'd given up years ago. Terry tried his best to appease her with his dinner leftovers and a foot rub, but neither offering was enough. She was inconsolable until she eventually drifted off to sleep with tears staining her face and a visibly confused husband cuddling her close.
But this time, years after she thought she had kicked her crying habit and ushered in a new era of grown-woman sensibilities and a great handle on her emotions, Patrice was crying again as the seconds ticked away on her 35th birthday. With her head pressed firmly against a wall covered in satin-finish Chantilly Lace paint, Patrice let tears of pleasure stream from the corner of her eyes and down her elegant neck as a return to form.
"Oh my…God." She'd repeated the phrase no less than 30 times over the course of the day, each instance a response to yet another stop Terry had pulled out to celebrate his favorite girl.
But this one? This one was the finest and cost nothing but a little time spent kneeling at Patrice's feet in worship.
All the energy he'd put into remaining proper in public, keeping his hands and lips to himself while they enjoyed dinner with friends and family at Patrice's favorite restaurant, had depleted into an insatiable desire to quench a thirst only his wife could satisfy.
Terry didn't mean to stop in the foyer. He had every intention to make it to the couch and take her down on a proper surface before they headed to the bedroom for the main event. Then he caught a whiff of that sweet vanilla coating her skin and instantly became inundated with flashbacks of what happened the last time she chose Eilish #1 as her fragrance for the night. Flashbacks morphed into a yearning, and yearning couldn't be contained once their bodies collided by accident beside the front door. Hands wandered beneath little black dresses, and thick denim became restrictive below the waist. He didn't even bother removing the lace fabric covering her pussy. He'd taste that, too.
Patrice's foot hung lazily over Terry's right shoulder, the point of her heel scratching between his shoulder blades while strong hands held her body in place against the wall to combat the circular roll of her hips searching for more pressure.
A short gasp escaped from Patrice's throat as she listened to the soft lapping of a skilled tongue executing perfect figure eights on her clit. "Right there, baby. Stay right there." Rounded almond nails gently scaped across freshly cut hair to scratch at the back of Terry's head. "Oh my God."
Thirty-one. If her mama could hear her calling the Lord's name in vain, she'd make the back of her hand a quick acquaintance of her daughter's lips. Fortunately, this was some shit Mama couldn't see. This was grown married folks business. The kind of shenanigans she always dreamed of once the ink dried on the marriage certificate.
Spurred by Patrice's praise and stimulation at his favorite spot, Terry groaned against his favorite place on Earth. His tongue didn't stop writing love letters against her clit, nor did his full lips deprive her of the light suction she loved so much. He was too proud a man to leave a woman unsatisfied. Especially on her birthday. That'd be cruel.
"Yes, yes!" No one had asked a question or requested her confirmation. She'd simply run out of ability to say anything else. Simple syllables and short words were all she had to communicate unfathomable bliss.
A trickle of saliva and sweet essence slid down the leg keeping Patrice upright, adding yet another sensation to the tingling and pulsing reminding her that she was not only alive but experiencing the best birthday a girl could ask for. Terry chased his reward without skipping a beat. Patrice wished she could see his long tongue cleaning up a mess of his own creation. She tried to imagine his eyes peering up at her, looking like a man possessed and not her sweet man known for forehead kisses and silly love poems at sunrise. Eventually that Terry would come back and soothe her quivering body back to baseline once insatiable, incredibly turned on Terry had his fill underneath the moonlight streaming in through glass panels on the front door.
"You better not hold that shit." Rough words from a typically patient man. Terry meant no disrespect. He just wanted what he wanted.
A firm tap to one ass cheek made Patrice squeal in response as Terry went back to his feast with increased intensity. Her body seized has she squealed out, "Oh…my God!"
More tears came in place of praises and curses uttered from the same tongue. A habit Patrice thought she'd kicked was back in a new iteration she could get used to. If she could cry from head on her birthday every year, she'd fill an Olympic-sized swimming pool with her contribution.
Coiling in her abdomen nearly sent Patrice folding over Terry's head in search of stability. She fought every inclination to crumple to the floor, instead shouting to the ceiling to release pent up tension. "Fuck! Oh my…" She dared not finish that sentence, but Terry knew what she was thinking.
The hand stroking her extended leg took a meandering path up Patrice's abdomen to search for her breast to grope what he wished he could see. It was dark underneath her dress. No matter. He planned to make up for it later in the night when their marital bed became a stage.
Trembling from her inner thighs became a split second warning light for a woman primed to explode at any moment. Patrice tried to warn Terry – tried to call out his name or repeat the only phrase available – but words turned into unintelligible babble as two hands held Terry's face steady for the ride of his life.
"Yesyesyesyes!" Anyone walking a step too close to their home's front lawn would've been treated to a sweet chorus of guttural praise and deep moans. They'd both remember these out-of-body experiences well into old age.
Patrice could've sworn she felt Terry smiling against her center, but she was too caught up in a messy release to register anything other than a wobbling ankle and a wet spot on the hardwood she'd need a clean up before daybreak.
Terry's strong hands kept Patrice steady while she quaked against him, expending all the energy her muscles had left. Euphoria. She hadn't felt such pure euphoria since her body delivered a baby to the finish line, and the realization that pregnancy was finally over hit her like a ton of bricks.
"Mmmm. You taste so good, baby." Patrice had almost forgotten Terry existed until he pulled away from her to pepper kisses along the thigh resting on his shoulder. "My sweet girl."
Labored breathing slowly evened into a steady pace. "Fuck," Patrice laughed through a rush of air. "What got into you, TJ?" Another deep breathed pushed her shoulders away from her ears, allowing her head to lull back against the wall.
As Terry stood to his full height and ignored the aching in his aging bones, he left wet kisses wherever naked skin lived until he was covering Patrice's lips in the same attention he'd given her other set.
He chuckled against her mouth. "Same thing I'm 'bout to put into you."
"I don't think that sounded how you meant it to sound."
"Just go with it." Terry's quip sent them into a fit of giggles, briefly interrupted by Terry discovering the trail of tears that had etched themselves into Patrice's foundation. He touched the spot with concern furrowing his brow. "What's wrong, baby? Did I hurt you?"
Patrice shook her head, smiling. "No. I do this every year."
"You need anything from me?"
"Yeah," she answered, inching closer to his lips to speak as if there was a secret to hide from others in the room. "Make me do it again."
It was still her party, and Patrice planned to cry all night because she wanted to. Some traditions were worth maintaining.
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14.2k wrds. fem black reader. plot w/ smut. MDNI!!!
warnings: established d/s relationship, daddy dom!ony and sub!reader, bratty!reader, reader’s a lil shit, cursing, weed mentioned, alcohol consumption, unprotected sex (BE SAFE), hard dom!ony so he’s a meanie, pet names, degradation, ony and that heavenly bbc, ony’s an ass man, choking, spitting, a couple LIGHT slaps, spanking, bossy!ony, dacryphilia, overstimulation, ony gives great aftercare
moodboard.
original request by @rnvsxo. this took wayyy too long and I do apologize. thanks for requesting, pookie!
you love your man. literally wouldn’t change a thing about him.
seemingly rough around the edges, he’s actually just a big goofball and teddy bear all wrapped up in one man. yes, he’s tall and burly and covered in tattoos, but he can also be quite the idiot when he’s comfortable.
he values you deeply and shows that with every action. he’s always talking to and about you with deep reverence. he’s intentional and protective and just all around what you’ve always wanted out of a partner. he’s always focused on making sure you feel good with him. whether you’re by his side, under him, on top of him… his focus is making sure his princess is taken care of in all ways. free to be yourself, always secure and held down by your daddy.
he’s always so gentle. large and calloused, veiny hands softly caress, strong arms wrap around you protectively, words always praising and loving. you love that shit. you love him.
even with his sometimes cocky self, his penchant for being overprotective as hell, and his yelling at the tv when he games or watches some sport... even with his funky feet after working out and tendency to hold you captive in the mornings when you have to use the restroom really fucking bad… you just can’t help but love him, stinky toes and all. he’s your person and there’s no doubt about that.
but sometimes…
sometimes you need more. something different.
sometimes you want him to just wreck you.
like, c’mon. the man looks like he can literally throw you a good distance. his muscles bulge so attractively when he works out, and he looks so damn fine when his brow is furrowed with strain. the grunts, the harsh breaths… it takes your breath away. when he scoops you up in his arms like you don’t weigh anything– which you absolutely do– you get flashes of what it’d be like for him to just manhandle you. rough you up a bit.
is that toxic?
possibly, you think. but you can’t help but feel that there’s absolutely nothing wrong with desiring aggression from him, especially considering how safe you feel in his arms. you know that no matter what goes down in the bedroom, he loves and respects the fuck outta you. he’d never hurt his girl. that’s no question.
it seems like he’s almost afraid of it, though. whenever he finds himself particularly angry or frustrated, he demands space. he doesn’t want his words to sting and he refuses to treat you with anything less than complete respect. even when you poke and prod, tease a desire for rougher treatment, he’s quick to shut it down.
“nah, baby, you’re my princess. I ain’t doin’ you like that.”
too bad you want to be done like that. real bad, actually.
you want his hands gripping you hair or your throat, you want those big arms and rough hands holding you to him, you want his words to be firm and aggressive, that deep timbre winded with exertion. you think about it a lot. hell, you’ve even dreamed about it, subsequently waking up to make a mess of the soft sheets he buys for your sensitive skin.
it actually pisses you off. he gives you everything you want, so why not indulge your fantasies? you crave it. you’d beg for it if you knew it’d affect him, but he doesn’t even like it when you beg!
“princesses don’t beg, mama. daddy’s always gonna give you exactly what you need. you should never have to.”
it’s like wanting a deep tissue massage but the masseuse is too afraid of hurting you, or wanting extra spicy wings but only getting medium. there’s a time and a place for both, but he’s always straying on the side of caution. like, damn! you’re not going to break. you can take that shit, whatever he has to offer. you’re not asking for him to throw you off a damn cliff. even just a hand around the throat here, a harsh smack on the ass there, just a sprinkle of degradation would help. if he can’t go hard, he can be just a little bit mean!
it’s getting to be too much. it’s an itch that he refuses to scratch. you’re stubborn, you’re determined, and you’re creative.
and maybe, just maybe, a little deprived.
okay, a lot deprived.
it’s not your fault! he says you can get whatever you want, but refuses to indulge in something that you’ve grown to want the most. you’ve asked directly and pleaded and hinted, everything you can within the realm of healthy communication. call you spoiled, but you’re going to get what you want, especially because you know no matter what he says, he wants that shit too.
you see how he holds back, how he strains. you know he wants to smack that ass and snatch you up. you know he wants to correct you with more than just a warning tone, especially when you’re being particularly bratty. he wants to push you up against that damn wall, be mean, talk to you crazy just because he can and because you like it.
you see it in his eyes and hear it in his voice. you see it in the way his eyes squint and how his hands grip just a little bit tighter. sometimes he looks at you like a man starved and you expect him to just break, but he never does.
he’s holding back, has been the entire time, and you hate it. it’s unfair. though you understand where he’s coming from, you need him to understand your perspective.
he just needs a little… push.
so you’re gonna shove his ass.
you’re going to a party tonight, an anime themed shindig that you’ve both really been looking forward to. you’ve got the matching outfits; you’re dressing as a fem luffy and him zoro. it’s the show you’ve been watching together to fill the time; while you smoke, while you clean, right before bed after he’s made you come for the nth time. so what’s a better couple costume than a captain and her first mate?
you already know you’ll get a lot of attention for how you’re dressed and who you’re dressed as. you’ll be taking full advantage of luffy’s personality: outgoing, comfortable with people, touchy. you’re intending to tug on every nerve of the bearded man that you can.
the plan is to tease, tease, tease until he just can’t take it. you believe with full confidence that you can take whatever he dishes out. if you can tap dance on those nerves of his enough to get him to lessen his inhibitions, you’ll absolutely fucking show him that.
and you have a feeling it’s going to work real well.
✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧
ony’s happy.
he loves you, he loves your relationship, and he loves taking care of his princess.
he loves seeing how free you feel around him, unlimited in his protective presence. his pretty lady, spreading her wings and being her full self. sensitive, sweet, bratty, nasty. you’ve told him more times than he can count how refreshing and new it is to be in a space that allows you to fully express and explore yourself. you know he wouldn’t judge or hurt or diminish anything you’re feeling.
that just makes him all the more overprotective. you’re capable, more than, but he’s constantly looking out for you because that’s his job as your man. you’ve trusted him with everything and he doesn’t take that shit lightly. he never wants to see you sad or crying, hates when you’re upset, and would take down anybody that puts so much as a pout on that face of yours. he’s your safe place to land, your shoulder to cry on, a man that will do anything to never let you down.
so how in the fuck could he ever do or say anything to hurt you?
you’re too damn pretty to talk to any kind of way, too special to him. he’d never risk it, he couldn’t.
it sucks to look you in your eyes and tell you no, it honestly doesn’t even feel right in his fucking soul. he can do many, many things for you. he’ll eat you out just for the fun of it, tongue tracing his name on that pretty clit. he’ll slide into his bathroom at work just to talk you through your nut when you’re extra needy.
he’ll be just about anything for you. coddling? yea. overprotective? hell yea.
mean?
absolutely the fuck not.
he’s a big man and he really just doesn’t know his strength. sometimes he doesn’t realize just how strong his hold is on something until it breaks. he’ll be watching a game, on the edge of his seat and yelling at the tv, and suddenly— oops. cup’s broken. he’ll do normal reps at the gym, something slight for a warm up, and walk away from the machine just to hear, ”damn, who the fuck was lifting this??”
his mouth can get real reckless, also. he knows that when he’s angry or upset, his words bite. he wasn’t always as level headed, didn’t always count to ten before reacting to whatever. he used to talk first and think later, say what he wanted and bring down a few egos. as a man, he’s learned that his aggression can be dangerous and should be dealt with appropriately.
that’s why he just can’t bring himself to be aggressive with you. it’s his mission to tend to you, care for you, take care of the parts of you that no one else will ever see. you trust him in so many ways and he knows all of it’s foreign to you. he’d damn near kill someone just for making you break a nail, so if he hurt you… he wouldn’t know what to do with himself.
however…
that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have the desire to get a little rough with you.
he thinks about it a lot. what it’d be like to just… grab you. he wonders if you could take him, all of him. the rough and aggressive him. the him that would snatch you up without a second thought, make you ride him until you collapse. the him that he usually keeps very separate from his woman.
he’d do so many things to you if he let himself. he knows you say you can take it, but can you really?
would you still be fully comfortable in subspace if he was aggressive with you? would you still let those walls down, be his sweet and sensitive girl if he gagged you? bound you? or would it affect you in ways you’re not fully prepared for?
to be frank, you talk a lot of shit that you just can’t back up. you’ll run that pretty little mouth, teases on your tongue, just to be putty in his hands minutes later, or pouting at him with hurt feelings because he raised his voice even just a smidgen.
he won’t risk it.
it doesn’t matter if he wants to shove that pretty face in his mattress and tear that ass up. it doesn’t matter if he wants to make you cum more times than you think you ever could, overwhelm you with the pleasure your eyes beg for. and it definitely doesn’t matter that he wants to grab you by the neck and make you breathless, just to let you go and do it all over again.
it doesn’t matter.
you’re his baby, and he’d never forgive himself if he hurt you.
✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧
“baby, you ready?” ony calls from the bedroom. “just a sec, pooks!” you call back. you take a moment to check yourself over in the mirror, wanting to be sure that you’re as tempting as you feel.
you’re dressed in luffy’s beast pirate outfit with a sultry feminine twist, the crop top you’re wearing keeping you from showing too much skin and shorts accentuating your form. your makeup is done to perfection, highlighting your features, and you have a straw hat resting on your back to make room for the red horns sticking out of your head of curls.
the irony of said horns is not lost on you by any means.
you used makeup to recreate the scars on his face and chest, and your skin is glowing from the scented shea butter you rubbed on your body; ony’s favorite tantalizing scent, of course. you paired it with a matching perfume just to give it an extra oomph.
with an accomplished sigh, you lock eyes with your reflection, your lips curling into a devilish little smile. you look fucking good and you smell edible. whatever happens tonight will be well deserved.
you step out of the bathroom, fully planning to give your boyfriend a tease of a show to start your plan, only to stop when you see him.
he looks downright sinful.
he’s wearing zoro’s beast pirate outfit to match yours. he’s bare of a shirt, just zoro’s signature green haramaki sash and dark green pants. his hair is tinted green from the hair wax you bought for him and he’s moisturized to a t, his dark skin glowing and tattoos looking more than lickable. his muscles are on display, accented with the harness strapped across his chest, and it takes everything in you not to just melt to the floor and suck the soul out of him right then and there, plans be damned.
“fuck, ony. you look good,” you bite your lip as your eyes trail over him. your mind is playing over the different positions you hope to be in tonight... “not fair,” you murmur.
he chuckles, focused on his phone and tapping away as he texts eren where the group will meet. “thank you, princess. don’t forget you have to do my scars. I can’t say I’m zoro without the–“ he cuts himself as he looks up at you, eyebrows raising.
his eyes trail up and down your figure, taking in the shape of your body with the form fitting clothes. you look good as hell, no surprise there. skin showing, curves accentuated, standing confident and looking like you should be on your back and spread out for him. he licks his lips and tosses his phone onto the bed before taking a few steps towards you. “…gahhh damn, baby,” he drags out.
his hands meet your hips, one trailing down to feel the smooth skin of your thigh. “shit. princess, you look fuckin’ amazing. I’ma be fightin’ niggas all night. hell,” he murmurs deep.
his gaze is hot, warming your body with his obvious attraction to you. you’re glad he loves it, and the way he’s looking at you makes you feel real good. you bite the inside of your cheek as your hands trail up his torso to his chest. “damn yourself,” you mumble back. “I look good for me and for you, daddy. you know that.”
that makes him twitch in his pants. you always know just what to say to rile him up, and it’s both invigorating and irritating. he chuckles lowly and hooks his finger through the belt loop on your side, quickly turning you to press your ass up against his pelvis. his hands trail up your sides and to your chest, giving a light squeeze as he presses a soft kiss to your jaw from behind.
“mmm, fine as fuck, baby. you did so good with your outfit, maybe a little too good. I’m so tempted to just…” he leads off, hands teasingly inching towards the button of your pants. your stomach jolts, arousal ticking at his touch and voice in your ear. damn him and his deep sandalwood cologne, the ease in which he affects your body.
you gotta stay focused.
your hands find his, lightly gripping them and slowly sliding them back to your hips. it hurts to do, and your fluttering stomach isn’t helping. “nuh uh, pa, we’ve been looking forward to this for too long. sit and let me finish those scars.”
that’s interesting, to say the least. “hmm?” he hums, gripping your hips a bit, surprised at the denial. that’s not usual for you as it doesn’t take much for you to melt at his touch. it’s often him talking you down, not the other way around. there have been many events y’all have shown up to late because some touches got a bit too heated.
he’s still pressing kisses up your jaw, slow and steady. “you tellin’ me to behave? hell gotta be unusually cold.” you can’t help but laugh at that. he’s got a smart ass mouth, and you wonder what he’ll be saying by the end of the night. “I’m just excited. we look good as hell and we definitely have to take some pictures and tiktoks. put that away,” you say, patting near but not directly on the front of his pants, “and sit down.”
he hums again, eyebrow twitching with restraint. that was a low move, you know how much he loves your hands on him. touching, feeling, soothing… he just chalks it up to your touchy nature, though. he supposes you’re right, you did your thing making the costumes and the least he can do is keep his hands to himself for now. “mhm… whatever you say, captain,” he mumbles lowly.
incorrect. if it was whatever you say, you wouldn’t have to stage such a scheme.
“let me go get my makeup stuff,” you call as you walk back to the bathroom. ony plops onto the bed in waiting. when you come back, you lightly press your hand against his bare chest to direct him to lay on the bed. his eyebrows raise but he doesn’t say anything until you crawl on top of him and straddle his waist.
“‘scuse me?” he grumbles, his hands finding their place on your hips. “all this ain’t even needed.” you’ve never had to do anything like this for him before, but surely it’s not necessary for you to be pressed up against his groin like this. ain’t no way.
you roll your eyes, fully leaning into it. “relax. you’re too tall and this angle is better. now be still,” you mumble, starting to grab your brushes for the eye scar first. “close em.”
he huffs as he closes his eyes, hands inching just slightly to caress your butt as you work. your scent wafts over him as you take your time, making sure to set it properly in case he sweats throughout the night.
once the eye is done, you shuffle down his body to get to work on his next scar, not so accidentally brushing up against him as you unbuckle the harness on his chest.
“• ᥫ᭡ •” he grumbles your name. it’s a warning tone, not unlike what you’ve heard before.
“shhh.” you hush. “I’m focusing. the artist is at work.”
your tongue sticks out slightly in concentration, trying to make the scar look as realistic as possible with your meager tools. your hands lightly brush his abdomen and chest, fixing small mistakes and adding detail.
he lets out a breath, looking up to distract himself.
“you almost done? teasin’ ass.”
“hush, pa. you simply can’t rush perfection. and stop breathing so heavy.”
“s’your fuckin’ fault, princess. all up on me like this. you must want some dick before we leave or somethin’.”
“hush! your gutter brained self. don’t you usually have more self control?”
he let’s out another huff as he closes his eyes, trying to focus on anything but your hands on him. it’s damn near impossible. “sorry, baby,” he murmurs. he tries to keep his mind clear, think about ordering the uber and whatever else is needed to ensure a good time tonight.
he should make sure you eat and drink some water… and do the same for himself. you’re both late so everyone else should already be there. what else…
after adding the finishing touches, you lean to press a tender kiss to his abs, looking up at him with slightly doed eyes. he stops his train of thought, gaze immediately shooting down to watch you, eyebrow twitching and mind filling with the raunchiest thoughts.
this angle, those lips, the way your hands rest on his skin… he sees a slight twinkle in your eye and he gets a feeling tonight's going to be a long one.
“you doin’ this shit on purpose,” he almost groans. you’re just inches away from where he wants you. if you really wanted him to cool off, you wouldn’t keep doing what you know gets him going.
you roll your eyes again and pat his abdomen a couple times before sitting up and looking at your handiwork. the scar on his eye is quite simple, but the one on his chest actually looks good and detailed. shoutout youtube. a few inches below the chest scar lies your lip print, matching the lipstick you applied earlier.
“oh, relax, would you? just marking my territory. they’re gonna try to eat you up, and I refuse to let them get their grubby little hands on you. I’m all done,” you say casually, as if your possessive words won’t get a rise out of him. he squints, but otherwise doesn’t say anything. you can be quite the tease, it’s nothing out of the ordinary. he won’t call you on your shit just yet.
brat.
“whatever you want, mama.”
mhm, it sure will be. you’re determined to make that your reality.
✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧
after many tiktoks and accidental brushes and some pregaming with eye contact a lil too much on the lustful side, you both climb into the uber. ony holds the door for you as always and joins you in the back.
the uber driver is possibly in her thirties and doesn’t speak aside from the normal greeting. the music is low and a bit boring, and she just can’t seem to keep her eyes off the mirror, taking in the obvious eye candy that is onyankopon.
on one hand, you can’t blame her. as always, he looks fine as shit doing absolutely nothing. muscles all on display, tattoos glistening with his moisturized skin, hair and beard trimmed to perfection. he’d catch the eye of damn near any seeing person, so you get it. you do.
but on the other hand, it makes your nose scrunch. yeah, he’s fine, but he’s also quite obviously yours with the way the two of you are sitting together, his arm over your shoulder and hand resting over yours.
he’s quiet but touchy. it doesn’t seem to be enough for the driver to stop stealing glances.
without another thought, you reach over and grab his chin, fingers tickled by his beard. his gaze leaves the window to look at you, but you’re already leaning out of view. leaning to press a kiss on the column of his neck. another on the sweet spot right at the end of his jaw, but this time you lightly suck on his skin, your tongue tracing against his pulse just slightly so.
soft and simple, but the action speaks louder than anything. the woman’s eyes meet the road and don’t part from it again.
and ony’s sitting at attention.
he licks his lips, watching as you sit straight. your eyes meet his, low-lidded and almost prideful. he knows what that was, he’s not stupid. the drinks have you going, if your gaze is anything to go by. you’ve already been a problem tonight, and he prays for relief from the way he’s already pressing up against his pants.
when you both arrive at the venue, you can hear distant calls of “ayeee, luffy!” and “damn, zoro got lost again!” it makes you grin cheesily and give a silly wave as you drag ony to the bar.
you seem undisturbed, but ony’s struggling. he hasn’t been able to calm down since the beginning of the night and it’s barely even started. he works his jaw, trying to diminish that ache he’s feeling in his gut. he doesn’t know what’s going on with you, maybe you’re feeling a way, but he likes it. it’s just… hard.
he focuses his mind instead on keeping you safe. there’s a lot of people here and it’s his mission for the night to make sure you have a good time without any mishaps, especially on his end.
“you gonna drink some more, baby?” you ask, fluttering your lashes up at him. you know his mind can get nasty when the liquor hits him, and you’re going to make sure it hits good.
those fluttering lashes make him feel another tug in his gut. you’re looking up, capturing him with those eyes, and he can’t help but think of them rolling back, back, back…
“just a bit, sweet girl. gotta keep an eye out for you,” he smiles down at you.
fuck, you’re so pretty. he’d do just about anything for you when you look up at him like that. your lower lip juts out in response and he feels himself twitch in his pants again.
yeah. long night for sure.
“I want you to have fun too, daddy,” you say as you wrap your arms around his neck. “you don’t have to worry about me.”
oh, you’re wrong for calling him that right here and now. he licks his lips, gazing down at you. he sees that twinkle in your eyes again and sees how your smile is almost too sickeningly sweet.
ony’s arms wrap around you and bring you close as the people at the bar start to get rowdy with the next song playing. the adjustment takes him out of it just enough for him to refocus. “I know, baby, but let daddy worry. keeps you safe,” he answers, tapping your ass a couple of times before turning to the bartender to call out his order.
you hum to yourself. you were hoping for a bigger reaction to that… he turns to you again, eyebrows slightly furrowed. “you drank that water I gave you, right?”
you roll your eyes but nod, “and ate so there’s something on my stomach. you already asked me all this, I’m fine.” he’s always like this, though you appreciate it. he keeps track of your drinks and makes sure you hydrate like a doting daddy dom should, and you’re glad that you don’t have to worry about it. all you have to focus on is having fun.
and you’re definitely focused on that.
you let out a small yelp when you feel a pinch on your butt. “attitude. you’ve rolled your eyes at me three times now. fix it, • ᥫ᭡ • ,” he corrects. he’s speaking directly in your ear, sending a slight shiver through your body.
you hadn’t even realised he was keeping count. you nibble on your bottom lip in response and nod. god, you love it when he gets like that. shit makes you tingle. “sorry. won’t do it again.”
“mhm,” ony only hums in response. he can make your eyes roll if you really want to play like that…
no, he needs to focus.
more drinks are had and you’re feeling good. ony can see it in your eyes, can feel it in your touch. drinking makes you extra touchy, especially on nights like tonight, and your words and glances are becoming more teasing by the minute.
“c’mon, love, let’s find the group,” ony says in your ear as he grabs your hand. you feel another chill travel down at the way his lips tickle the skin of your earlobe. “don’t let go of me.”
he guides you through the crowd of assorted cosplays, hand wrapped securely around yours, and it’s almost like a movie scene with the music playing and the sight of him just being him.
he’s just so fine it makes you want to jump his bones. the back muscles on this man…
he’s guiding you easily, no one able to ignore his towering stature as he pushes through. his eyes are trained ahead of you, but he’s holding you securely, thumb lightly tracing on your skin in a soothing gesture…
it’s reassuring, soft, all that you’re used to. you imagine that hand wrapped around your neck, seeing flashes of him grabbing and taking without restraint.
the plan.
right, the plan.
he peeks back at you just to check that you're good, catching sight of how your eyes trail over his figure. he shakes his head with a small smirk as he looks ahead and weaves through the crowd. his princess is just as enamored with him as he is you. it takes a lot out of him to keep from turning around to kiss those lips.
he catches sight of a familiar looking buzzed head over the crowd, his height always an advantage. “yo, con!” he calls.
the shorter man whips around, almost losing his balance as he greets the two of you. he’s wearing an orange and black volleyball jersey with the number five on it, a lazy but fitting cosplay of tanaka from haikyuu. he’s grinning widely, obviously well beyond drunk, and his arm is around his newest flavor of the month.
as you laugh at his antics and chat, ony wraps his arm around your waist. he presses you up against his side as someone squeezes past you, always vigilant of the surrounding space to ensure your safety. you hadn’t even realized someone was trying to pass. it makes your lashes flutter up at him momentarily. you hum a small sound of surprise, the sound tainted with intrigue.
he can feel your eyes and it makes him warm. there’s a tension building that feels just slightly unfamiliar, a spark in your eye that’s just… different.
the four of you chat before connie leads you all to the rest of the group, located in a reserved section.
when you reach them, the both of you are welcomed with cheers. you do a cute little spin as the girls begin to compliment your outfit, shaking your ass as you stick your tongue out playfully. you’re definitely feeling those drinks, and ony can feel his mind starting to stray again.
ony holds your hand as you move, licking his lips as he acts as an anchor for you. he wants to reach around and give that ass a nice smack, hype you up because his baby definitely knows how to throw some. he has to hold back and just grin, else he loses his manners and takes you right then and there.
you’re hypnotizing him. tempting him.
he controls himself. he can tell you’re feeling good, and that’s all he wants.
but damn your ass moves like fucking water, he realizes for the umpteenth time. it’s hard to look away, almost impossible. side to side, in a circle… shit. what was he thinking about again? something about staying focused…
his thoughts are interrupted by voices of a few others from nearby as they join in on the cheering. one girl in particular calls out ‘she throwin’ that pirate booty!’ and that seems to pique the interest of more in the area.
ony’s eyebrow twitches.
“not too much, now,” he grumbles, pulling you back to his side. you just laugh and lean up against him again, your chest pressing against him. his eyes flicker downwards for a moment, catching sight of how you look in that position.
maybe just a quick trip to the bathroom… no, he shouldn’t.
he wants to, though. wonders if you’d care about anyone hearing your sounds or if you’d just let them out like a good girl. he can see you, spread out before him, moaning and fucked out while he fulfills his fantasy of fucking you like a slut.
his gaze flicks back up to your eyes. you smile and tilt your head slightly. as if you know how much he’s struggling and you find joy in it.
and you do. you can see it in his eyes, that desire. he’s buzzed, though he doesn’t really show it. his eyes are a bit distant, and you can tell his mind is filled with those thoughts you crave for him to act on. he’s not looking at you like his princess right now and you want him to step out on that.
he’s saved, once again. if there’s one thing sasha can’t do, it’s read a room.
you have to keep from rolling your eyes as she starts on about how grateful she is for everyone being together, ever the sentimental drunk. you love her down, but this happens every time she gets even a sip of liquor.
she demands pictures for memories, something about scrapbooking and showing the kids in the future, before she asks a random person to act as photographer. everyone lines up best they can, choosing their best angles. ony sticks close to you, hands almost glued to your ass. picture after picture, silly photos and serious photos. soon complaints start flying at sasha’s demands for different poses.
the group is able to break free after a few more pictures, and soon everyone is chatting, dancing, and vibing. it really is a nice party, definitely worth the hype, and worth the wait as well. most went all out on their outfits, the dj knows what the hell she’s doing, and the amount of wallflowers is surprisingly low.
the group is having a lot of fun, which isn’t exactly surprising as you all can have fun anywhere, especially with the drinks flowing. there’s so much laughing, so many candid photos that’ll be saved and used as blackmail… but no matter how much fun is going down, you’re still distracted by every move your man makes. it’s the same for him too.
his hands don’t leave you for longer than a minute. he’s constantly touching, caressing, looking at you like he wants to do any number of things to you, and you’re right there with him. whispering in his ear, pressing up against him, giving him those eyes. your friends are side eyeing and laughing, knowing that you both will probably be “excusing” yourselves soon.
it feels like it’s just the two of you, glued to each other as you both dance the night away, parting only for more drinks. you do moves that ony’s never seen you do before, guiding his hands all over you and looking him in the eye as a silent message of ”this is all yours”.
but despite everything, he hasn’t broken yet, no matter how close he’s come time and time again. it’s frustrating to you from the outside looking in. his self control is astounding to an irritating degree and it’s you who’s starting to get worked up beyond the point of return.
but ony’s definitely on the brink.
“fuck. drivin’ me crazy,” he groans, head falling to rest against your shoulder. he’s not sure how he’s still standing. he should’ve taken you home so long ago with the way you keep tempting him like he won’t do anything about it. “you look so fuckin’ good. keep doin’ yo’ shit, ma.”
“yeah?” you ask, reaching back to pull him close. his ear is by your mouth, so you press a kiss to his skin, tongue darting out to tease. it sends a chill down ony’s spine and straight to his dick.
“yeah, baby. too damn perfect,” he breathes out. he runs the tip of his nose up your neck, that damn scent making him want to devour you. he’s gripping you tighter, breathing you in deep.
you’ve got him in the palm of your hand. you laugh, turning in his arms to hook your own around his neck. “and all yours, yeah?” his hands slide down to your bum, giving a nice squeeze.
“all fuckin’ mine,” he murmurs, eyes low as his gaze meets yours.
you nibble on your lip. he just looks so good… the look in his eyes, the way he’s gazing at you like he could take you up against the wall right now has you flooding your underwear. it’s almost too much and the way his hands squeeze and pull you closer like you weigh nothing is only making it worse.
you don’t know what possesses you to say what you say next, maybe it’s the alcohol or the audacity or the combination of both, but you pull him closer by his nape and whisper in his ear.
“so why do you keep fucking me like you’re scared?”
ony pauses.
he must be hearing things. maybe the music is too loud or you mixed up your words because there’s no way you just said that shit.
it’s almost like you can feel the temperature drop.
“repeat that,” he grumbles assertively. you shudder just slightly at his cold tone, but you don’t falter.
“you heard me,” you shrug. “you fuck like you’re scared. you shouldn’t be surprised to hear that.” and you really think he shouldn’t. isn’t this what it’s all been about? his fear of hurting you? it’s not a lie. he is scared.
but it’s all in your delivery. you’re making him sound like a punk and he doesn’t like that.
he doesn’t like how you’re shrugging like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, he doesn’t like how you’re disrespecting your daddy, and he definitely doesn’t like how you seem to think you’re on some type of higher ground.
“come to the bathroom real quick,” he mumbles. he grabs your wrist— firm, not tight— and starts to guide you.
you smile and bite your lip as he tugs you forward. “did I say something wrong?” you ask, your voice a slight purr as you press yourself against him. one of your hands trails up his arm, sending tingles up his skin and down to his hopefully well hidden hard on. your touch is slow and teasing, and your nails scratch him just enough, the way you know he likes.
you wish you could use your tongue instead, trace those tattoos all the way to that third leg of his. have him looking down at you and calling you just what you are— pretty, desperate, nasty. just for him.
he looks down at you with a raised brow, almost irritated with the way he keeps fucking twitching in his pants and definitely irritated with whatever the fuck you have going on. “chill.”
ony’s jaw is set at your touch as he continues walking. your gaze, your hands, your teasing… it’s all too much. he doesn’t know what it is, the tequila maybe?
no, you’ve been on one all fucking night.
he doesn’t get it, but it’s gotten to him. he wonders if it would really be that bad if he bent you over in the stall and just…
the two of you finally find a family bathroom towards the back of the venue. ony holds the door open for you, follows you inside, and locks the door behind him.
“you upset or somethin—“
“what’s goin’ on with you? huh?” he grumbles out, hooking his finger through your harness and pulling you against him. you gasp as your hands fly to rest on his shoulders for balance.
“what—“ you try to speak, only to be interrupted by him again. his tone is stern, no room for bullshit. he’s been tempted and teased and drawn to an edge he hasn’t had to endure with you before.
“don’t even try to play wit’ me. whatchu doin’?” he asks.
you swallow, looking up at him and taking in his unfamiliar demeanor. his eyes are serious, eyebrows pinched in an irritated frown that makes your knees weak. “I’m not- I just wanted to have fun tonight, that’s all,” you answer.
his eyebrow twitches and he takes a moment to take a breath, staring you down. “that’s all,” he repeats dully.
and then his hand slides up from your harness, wrapping around your jaw as the other grips your hip. he holds your face in place firmly, bending slightly to hover above you. the look in his eyes… your heart is racing and he can probably feel your pulse, but something else is pulsing between your legs.
“you think I’m stupid? that what you think?” he asks. his voice is almost soft, but not in the tender way you’re used to. “I’ma be nice and give you a second chance cause I love yo’ ass. don’t lie to my face again.”
despite the obvious predicament, you’re feeling pretty good about yourself. this is what you wanted, what you asked for, what you knew he wanted and it feels so damn good. just like you knew it would.
“trying to get you to stop holding back,” you mumble truthfully.
he pauses again.
you’ve gotta be fucking kidding. here he is trying to have a good night with his girl, keeping an eye on you so that you can have a fun ass time without worry, and the whole time you’ve been playing little games.
ony hates games.
“that’s why you been out here like this the whole fuckin’ night?” he asks in a grumble, his hand tightening its grip just slightly. “pushin’ up on me, teasin me, actin’ like I don’t love you and give you everything, being a damn brat? my good girl? can’t be. you know better than that, ain’t never done shit like that.”
your breath hitches, but you keep going. “you don’t get it,” you speak up. “the fact that I had to do this in the first place is your fault. I asked and tried to talk, but you weren’t listening!”
“watch yo’ tone,” he immediately mumbles. his hand slides down from your jaw to your neck and gives a squeeze.
a reminder. he can only allow so much.
you roll your eyes. “you have to admit I’m right!” you stubbornly press. this is your chance to air your grievances, you have to get it all out. “you want this, I know you do. you hold back too much and it’s not fair. if you ever found out I wasn’t all in, you’d be upset just like me! I don’t understand why you can’t just—“
you’re interrupted by his lips as he kisses you. really kisses you.
it’s not the usual slow and sensual kiss, the ones packed with love and intention. it’s messy and rushed, his hand sliding from your hip to the curls at your nape and gripping. your eyes roll back just slightly at the feeling. it’s overpowering, it’s knee-weakening, it’s raw. it’s everything you wanted.
he controls the kiss, he bites, and his hand never leaves your neck. you don’t even realize that you’re moving back and back until you’re pressed up against the wall, closed in by his larger frame.
he pulls back, holding you in place by your hair. this is what you’ve been craving, and it’s so delectable now that you’re getting it. it’s a whole new ony, rough and demanding in his movements. you’re just about putty in his hands.
“damn,” you breathe out, trying to gather yourself.
it’s ridiculous. ony blames himself for his regretful decision of controlling his more aggressive urges. you obviously want it more than he thought, need it if your brattiness is any indication.
the fact that you’d go so far as to play him, try to control him? it’s pissing him off. you’re a good girl. this isn’t what you do.
he’s got something for your ass.
“we’re going home,” he grumbles lowly.
and home you go.
the two of you leave the bathroom, ony’s back tense as he leads and weaves through the crowd. a particular group won’t move even after a couple of excuse me’s from him. they just look at him and then away dismissively as if they’re not blocking the walkway. rude as fuck, to be honest.
ony raises his voice with a lift of his eyebrows. he doesn’t have time for this. “I know y’all fuckin’ heard me. move,” he demands. the looks you receive in return are hilarious, looking a mix of offended, humbled, and maybe a little afraid. the group starts stepping to the side as ony stares them down.
it’s such a fucking turn on.
the journey outside is all a blur. ony hasn’t said a single word to you. he said farewells to the group and guided you to the uber. his touches haven’t stopped, but his gaze is set on the window. his jaw is tight and his grip on you is firm.
the uber back is quiet. the driver has a car on the smaller side, so ony’s almost to the point of having to scrunch himself just to fit. he knew he should’ve ordered a different one, but it would’ve taken too long. he’s sitting leaned against the window, his long legs to the side for comfort because they wouldn’t fit otherwise.
your legs are almost thrown over his. one of his arms is wrapped around your shoulder and the other hand is wrapped around your ankle, thumb lightly tracing over the anklet he bought you.
you’re sitting, fiddling with your fingers.
you’re excited. you’re going to get what you want, what you’ve been needing, and you can say that the night is going according to plan. maybe even better. you have no idea what the night entails, but you’re looking forward to every moment.
the tension is so delicious. the look in his eye, the way he kissed you… you’ve never seen him like this, felt him like this. it’s invigorating and it’s hard to feel bad for your antics. you tried to talk, you did. but tonight happened and apparently it was needed.
there’s just… an inkling, a very small one, that says you have no idea what you’re about to go through.
✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧
visual. visual. visual. visual.
ony crosses his arms as he looks at you, admiring your form and your nerve. you’re sitting on the edge of the bed, bare just for him, eyes holding a glint of smugness as you look up.
you’re proud of yourself, ego probably on ten. you don’t even have the decency to look apologetic. instead you’re watching, waiting like you’re entitled to a treat after your little game. your bratty, irritating game of pushing a man who isn’t usually pushed.
his sweet girl… not even aware of the consequences you’re about to endure. he has ways of humbling you. since you’ve been acting how you’re acting, he’ll give you exactly what it is your ass wants.
your gaze trails over his form and he just stands there letting you watch for a moment. his muscles bulge, his chest and arms on display. he’s got that stone face that’s never been directed to you, his tight jaw and twitching eyebrow the only indication of how he’s feeling.
“• ᥫ᭡ •,” he says lowly, getting your attention. your eyes meet his, your breath hitching. his eyes flicker over you again and you can just feel the tension thick in the air. his gaze holds so much fire, body tense and mind obviously racing.
it feels almost illegal to speak up, like the wrong words will set him off and make him snap. that’s what you’ve wanted, of course, but the atmosphere is much different when you’re actually in it. “yes?” you ask quietly. he’s silent for a moment, and then he speaks up.
“I hope you can handle what I’ma do to yo’ lil ass tonight.”
that makes your stomach jump as you nibble on your bottom lip. you sit there for a moment, a mix of excitement and arousal coursing through you. just what’s going to go down? this is uncharted territory. you don’t know what to expect.
you know one thing, though.
you won.
“I can, daddy,” you murmur softly, eyes so pretty as they look up at him. you look so sweet, like you didn’t toy with him like a fucking yo-yo tonight. he’ll make sure to do the same with you since you’re so needy for it.
“mhm, sure,” he grumbles dismissively. you don’t know shit about how he can get because you’ve never seen it. pride is a muhfucka. he reaches down and hooks a finger under your chin, lifting it. his touch makes your skin tingle. “remind me of your safeword, babygirl,” he says.
you clear your throat. “um- pineapple,” you answer.
“and your colors?”
“green is keep going, yellow is slow down or pause, red is stop,” you recite.
“good girl,” he mumbles, looking down at you. he’s still watching you like a hawk. the angle is everything. you’re fighting the urge to reach and run a hand up his abdomen, follow your touch with your tongue. something tells you touching isn’t a great idea at the moment though.
“you have to tell me if I say or do anything, anything that makes you feel some type of way. promise me, baby,” he presses. he lightly trails his thumb over your cheek, looking down at you with clouded eyes.
his voice gives you goosebumps. it’s a mix of commanding and gentle, and you feel as though this is the last sliver of tenderness you’ll see before you get your sense fucked out of you. “I promise, daddy,” you nod.
“good girl,” he rasps. he really hopes you listen because he won’t be holding back, per your request. it’s about to get really tough for you, and you did it to yourself.
his hand moves down, wrapping around your neck in a pressing grip. you feel your stomach jolt and you lick your lips as you stare up into his eyes, watching the tenderness shift just as quickly as it appeared.
“you know I’m pissed the fuck off, right?” he frowns. his eyebrows pinch together and his hand tightens around your neck. “scared,” he states. “I fuck you like I’m scared. that’s what you said.”
his voice is rough, an insight to how the night will be, and his gaze is burning. maybe you shouldn’t have said that… but it’s landed you right where you want to be. you swallow and start to answer respond, but he interrupts you. there’s nothing you could say right now to calm him down.
“nah, don’t even say shit, just gone piss me off even more,” he scoffs, his hand squeezing your neck. he steps closer, standing between your legs now. “you got a lot of fuckin’ nerve, baby. that’s okay. daddy’s gonna get you straight.”
in a flash, you’re pulled up to your feet and damn near dropped onto the ground. you let out a soft ’oof’ as you land on your knees, ony holding you by your arms. it’s so unlike him that you’re blinking in shock.
“look at me, lil girl,” he grunts, his hand sliding into your curls to grip them and tug you to look up at him. your eyebrows furrow— you’re grown, nowhere near little, but the look on his face keeps you from saying anything.
“what, youn like that? don’t like hearin’ bout yourself?” he grumbles, eyebrows pinching as he notices your shift in expression. he couldn’t care less. you were acting childish, playing your games and pushing him to do you like this.
you frown in response, feeling an attitude coming up quickly. it’s not like you didn’t try to handle it properly, he’s the one that refused to listen with his fine, stubborn ass. you go to say something, but he tugs you closer by your hair, bringing you to his pelvis.
“shut the fuck up. ion wanna hear fuck else from you unless you slobbin’ on my dick,” he fusses and jesus, mary, and joseph— that shouldn’t have made your core coil in the way that it does.
well, shit. you do exactly what he says.
you bite your lip as you look up at him, pulling his boxers down to reveal the second love of your life: ony’s big fat fucking dick. it’s long and it’s thick and it’s heavy— absolutely nothing to play with or about. his size and girth would be the source of many people’s dreams or nightmares, depending.
you press open mouthed kisses down his length as you breathe heavy, his hand clenching your hair. you make sure to look him deep in his eyes as you trail your tongue back up, from his balls to his tip. ony groans as he watches you.
you look so good like this, bratty mouth occupied and eyes on his, doing exactly what the fuck he told you. “open,” he grunts. your tongue immediately sticks out, mouth open wide, and ony takes the opportunity to drop spit from his mouth to yours.
“now get to work,” he demands.
it sends chills down your spine, his gaze unmoving as he watches his favorite fucking show. you start slow, spitting on him to act as a lazy lube, sucking his head into your mouth. you hum as you taste him, tongue swirling over his length. you make sure it’s nice and wet before your head starts to bob as you take more and more of him into your mouth, using your hands to pump the rest.
until he reaches down and pushes them off.
”nah, fuck that. no hands, mama, gimme that,” he grunts.
so damn sexy.
you do what he says, resting your hands on his waist as you take more of him into your mouth. he huffs out a breath, still looking at you with furrowed brows. “yeah, fuck. sexy ass,” he encourages. “better suck me off better than you ever have. I deserve that shit, dealin’ with yo’ bratty ass.”
you whimper around him, spit and pre building up more and more and making everything so sloppy. you take him deeper and deeper, giving him what you think to be your best. ony’s groaning, grip tightening on your hair as he starts to feel that shit in his fucking toes.
“yeah, eat that dick up. way better use for that mouth than whatever bullshit you was spittin’ earlier,” he groans. he licks his lips as his head falls back, breath deepening and shuddering at the feel of your mouth. he can hear the slick, slurping sounds coming from you and it’s damn near heaven.
he looks down again, noticing what he considers to be a half-assed attempt at taking him all the way. “quit playin’ wit me like I won’t fuck this pretty face,” he grunts, using his grip on your hair to pull you further down his length. “swallow that shit. you can do better than that. show out like you been doin’ all damn night. speed up.”
you whine around him, your pussy clenching at his words. fuck, you’re loving this. it’s everything you’ve been wanting. on your knees, ony dominating you like he should’ve always been. you bob your head faster, bubbles forming as everything becomes sloppier and sloppier, your tongue tracing under his cock. you feel a light smack on your cheek and your eyes focus on his again, blinking in surprise.
“you ain’t doin’ shit forreal. let daddy take that,” he grunts. both of his hands are on your head now, and he’s stepping forward more and more until your back meets the edge of the bed. he starts to work his hips, groaning and moaning in such a delicious tone that it makes your wetness drip down your thighs.
“fuck. too fucking good, baby,” he groans. you’re gagging a bit, hands gripping his thighs as he thrusts harder and harder. “daddy loves this shit. love making you choke on me,” he pants. “I been missin’ out, huh? treatin’ you like you too pretty to gag on this big” thrust “fuckin’” thrust “dick.” thrust.
you’re so turned on, you think you might burst. you’re gagging now, choking, so you smack his thigh a few times, tapping out. he pulls you back by your hair and you gasp for air, coughing and digging your nails in his skin as you try to gather yourself.
“color,” ony grunts. you can’t really hear him, too focused on trying to get your shit together. “huh?” you choke out, still catching your breath. your head’s almost spinning, not just from the loss of air, but from this whole damn demeanor ony has.
“what’s your color, baby?” he asks, pulling you by your hair to look up at him. and, ah, there it is, just a sprinkle of concern mixed in with the frustration. his eyes are sweeping over you, wondering if you’re okay and if he can keep going. always so considerate of you, even when he’s pissed off beyond compare.
“fucking green,” you huff, wiping your face. you’re practically on cloud nine and it has you wondering if you really are toxic, but you can’t think about all of that when your fine ass, monster dicked boyfriend is standing in front of you looking like that. your pussy’s been working overtime purring.
ony licks his lips as he watches you. it’s obvious you’re enjoying this, and he is too. there’s something about making a mess of you that makes him want to do this shit morning, noon, and night. maybe your lil ass was right, maybe he was scared.
not anymore though.
“love your stubborn ass. need to do that more often. get up and come ride what’s yours. wanna see that ass bounce,” he rumbles. he pulls the chair by the foot of the bed closer with ease and sits on the edge of the bed. “c’mon. I’m puttin’ yo ass to work.”
sheesh. you can’t believe you’ve gone so long without this, his whole, uninhibited self making your mouth water. you take a breath before pushing yourself up to stand. you throw your leg over his lap, giving him a marvelous view of your ass, and he takes the chance to smack it hard enough to sting.
“my lil slut. come put it on me, since you bad,” he mumbles. he’s once again hypnotized, always obsessed with his girl’s ass because it’s his. he’ll make sure it’s red and raw by the end of the night,
you feel him guide you into the position he wants, his usually soft and gentle touch aggressive. he maneuvers you so easily, whipping you into place like he’s just moving a pillow or something. another smack to your ass makes you moan, but his fingers playing with your pussy make you squeal.
“gotta getchu ready for me, pretty,” he murmurs, biting his lip as he watches his fingers play in your homemade water park. “always so wet for me, baby, but you’re drenched tonight. you like when daddy treats you like this, huh?” he asks, almost amazed.
you whine a moan when you feel his fingers press and swirl against your clit, the digits drowning in your wetness. his other hand comes down to your other cheek, whacking your ass with vigor. “that wasn’t rhetorical,” he grumbles.
“yes, daddy, I love it,” you whine, your hips pushing back for more of his attention on your sensitive core. he smacks your ass again, again, and again, watching it jiggle and move at his touch. you’re whining and wriggling on the seat, but you let out a nasty moan when you feel his fingers slip inside.
“fuuuck,” you moan, clenching around his fingers. he’s moving expertly, fingers curling just how you like it. when he leans to add his tongue to the mix, tracing ‘o’ ‘n’ ‘y’ over and over again, your eyes roll back into your head at the feeling of his beard.
“mhm,” ony encourages, backing away enough to get a full view of your backside. “gonna fuck this pretty, messy pussy out the frame tonight. throw it back, lemme get a sneak peak of how you gonna take daddy’s big ass dick.”
“yes, sir,” you whine, starting to move your hips and ride his long, thick fingers. it feels so damn good, you can feel your mind slipping away and getting all fuzzy-like. your hand raises to grab your boob, squeezing and massaging it as you throw your head back.
“ohhh, it’s like that, huh? that’s a new one,” ony coos mockingly, having never heard you refer to him as such. he’s aching to reach and relieve himself if only slightly, but he can’t tear his hands away from your body for anything. “you actin’ like you respect me or some. guess I gotta treat you like this so you don’t play games in my face, huh? made me feel like a punk.”
you wish you can say you’re sorry, you really do, but with the way the night’s going? you’ll never regret this shit.
ever.
“j-just wanted all of you, daddy,” you moan, your head dipping forward as you continue to ride his fingers. his other hand slips from your ass to between your legs, starting to rub against your clit. your toes curl and another whine escapes you. “I don’t regret it, either,” you pant.
“oh, you don’t?” ony laughs. it’s almost sinister, a little too cocky and not even offended. he knows you’ll be fucked out by the end of all of this, there’s no doubt in his mind. he lands another spank to your ass, pulling his other hand away to lick it clean. “night’s still so young, sweetheart. don’t let your mouth write checks yo’ lil ass can’t cash.”
you whimper at the loss of his fingers, but you’re not wanting for long. you feel him slap his dick against your ass, obviously enamored. “just fuck me, damn,” you huff, reaching back to pump him a couple times. he groans at your touch, face scrunching because you know just how to work him.
“I need to shut you up again? cause I swear I can,” he grunts. he grabs the hand you have on him and pins it to your back before grabbing himself, lining up with your beautiful pussy, and pushing in. the sounds that both of you make should go in the hall of fame, both of you so worked up.
“ahh, ony,” you moan. he feels unreal, making himself at home in your guts. it’s got you clenching the chair with a death grip as you adjust to his size, his shallow thrusts digging into you slowly. “so big, daddy. love that dick,” you whimper.
“so why I’m doin’ the work? told yo’ ass to ride me. c’mon, mama, put on a show for your man,” he says breathlessly. he’s never been one to pretend your pussy doesn’t make him weak. he’s breathless, drowning in your perfect flower.
when you start to work your hips slowly, he has to lean back on one of his hands as he groans and rolls his eyes back. you grip him so perfectly and take him so damn well, he’s so sure there’s no better place to be than right here in you. he reaches to grab a handful of that ass and squeezes.
“so good,” you moan, moving your hips slowly as you settle into the best position you can. “daddy, you’re so perfect,” you groan, looking over your shoulder to lock eyes with him. you swear you can feel him jump within you.
he loves when you praise him back, telling him he’s in your guts or fucking you better than any man ever could. you’re looking at him with a gorgeous mix of love and lust in your eyes and it makes ony’s heart squeeze in his chest. he loves you so fucking much.
both of your breathing is deep now, lips bitten and licked in arousal and eyes low. he sits up and grabs the back of your neck, pulling you back to suck your tongue into his mouth. the kiss is sloppy and wet, and both of you can taste yourselves on the other’s tongue. you whine into the kiss as his hand wraps around the front of your neck to give a firm squeeze.
ony pulls back with a huff, his hand moving from your neck to smack your ass again. it stings so perfectly. “so why you make me out to be a punk, huh?” he asks. he can feel himself getting frustrated all over again just thinking about it. scared. he’ll show you scared. “playin in my face like that. girl, I’ll fuck yo’ pussy up. throw that ass on me before I get pissed off again.”
“anything for you, daddy,” you breathe out. “anything for you.” you start to pick up your pace, and soon you’re bouncing, bouncing, bouncing on ony’s perfect dick. he’s reaching places no one’s ever been and no one’s ever gonna be if you have any say. your moans are loud and you’re showing the fuck out.
ony’s in heaven, he’s sure of it. the way you’re gripping him, taking him so deep, the way you moan and whine for him, the perfect view he has of your reddening ass sore from his spanks… he wants to let his head fall back from the pleasure but he just can’t look away from you. you’re perfect.
“fuck, yeah, baby, take that dick. s’all yours, mama,” he groans. he can’t help but praise you, even if he’s still mad. the way you’re riding him is just undeniably, toe curlingly out of this damn world. “fuck, you workin’ me so good. ass so perfect, pussy just immaculate. keep goin’. keep fuckin’ goin.”
you whine, his words going straight to your core. your man is just everything, it’s so easy to lose yourself in him and give him the show you know he wants. he makes you feel like a fucking star. you let your head fall back, curls bouncing with each shift of your body as you reach between your legs and work your clit.
“gonna cuuum,” you whine, clenching around him. “holy fuck, ony! daddy, m’gonna—“
“push that shit out,” he grunts. it’s taking everything in him not to cum. he’s nowhere near done with you, so he reaches down to hold his base and stave off his orgasm for now. “let it go, baby. you worked hard for it. c’mon, wet daddy’s dick like only you can,” he encourages breathlessly.
it doesn’t take much longer before you’re doing exactly that, moaning his name so loud you wonder if people can hear you miles away. your hand is working yourself fast, clenching and squirting as your release washes over you in wave after wave. you pant and moan as you feel ony’s soothing hand rub up and down your back.
he leans forward to press kisses all over you. your back, your shoulders, your arms, your cheek, and finally your lips. you melt into his touch as you bask in the aftermath of your orgasm. “yeah, baby. did so fuckin’ good for daddy,” he murmurs in your ear. you hum softly, eyes closed as you just float.
you feel ony shifting, wrapping his arms around you as he pulls you into his lap. he maneuvers your jelly-like body to rest against his chest. he’s careful as he lies back on the bed, rubbing your back as you curl up against him and nuzzle into his neck. his scent washes over you, comforting even if sweaty, and you let out a soft sigh,
you take some time to cool down, catching your breath and letting your body calm. ony’s hands are on you the entire time, soothing and caressing every part of you. he kisses your forehead and murmurs in your ear calmly, “take a break, babygirl. but I ain’t done with you.”
…pardon?
your eyes fly open at that.
“huh?” you ask, looking up at him like he’s insane. “are you kidding? I’m exhausted,” you rasp. and you really are. your legs and hips are sore like you just worked out, you feel all fucked out and sweaty and ready to roll over and go to bed.
ony chuckles, still rubbing your back. you’re funny if you think he’s letting you off that easy. his hand slides down to caress your ass, squeezing it. it’s sore from all that damn smacking he did. “you thought that’s all I was gonna do? nah, baby. hell no.”
you weakly raise up on your arms, looking at him incredulously. you’re met with a very serious look in his eye that actually kind of concerns you. he looks smug as he utters his next words. “I ain’t even come yet.”
your jaw drops. “what? there’s no way-“ you attempt to turn and look, not believing his ass. you just gave a five star show and he didn’t come? that’s almost offensive. ony grabs your chin and turns your face to look at him. his smile is gone, eyes looking fiery once again.
“what’s your color?”
you blink. and then you blink again. “you’re joking,” you say. but with the look in his eyes, you know he’s not. ony’s head tilts. “I told you, you asked for this. I asked if you can handle it, and you said ‘I can, daddy,’” he says, mocking your voice just slightly. “so, again, I ask: what’s your color?”
you stare at him for a moment, wondering if he’ll say ‘sike, let’s go to bed’ or laugh after a few seconds, but he doesn’t. he meets your stare with confidence, gaze never faltering. is this man insane? you wonder briefly. but there’s no way you’ll let him win or mock you. he’s right, you did ask for this and you did say you can handle it. what’s another round?
“green,” you answer firmly. you can do this, you can handle him. he’s always been so soft with you, and he’s probably tired as well, so there can’t be much else. you’re confident that you can show him just who the fuck you are.
a smile slowly crawls onto ony’s face in response. you have no idea that you’re flying right into the sun,
✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧
you fucked up. there’s really no other way to put it.
who would’ve guessed?
you don’t know how long it’s been or how many orgasms you’ve endured, but ony’s still going. your ass is sore from spanking, voice raspy from moaning, and you’re a mess of sweat and cum.
“daddyyyy,” you whine, your head held back by your curls as ony drills into you from below. you’re on top of him, straddling him as you lean forward on your tired arms. ony’s got a firm grip on your hair, holding you to bare your neck as he kisses and sucks and bites marks into your skin.
“shut up and take this dick,” he grunts. “told yo’ ass not to play with me. this where that shit gets you.” he’s like an animal used to captivity out in the wild for the first time in years. you’re getting so much energy from him that’s been backed up for so long, and ony just can’t stop.
“s’too much, papa, fuck, I can’t take it,” you whimper. tears are falling from a mixture of pleasure and overwhelm, your body weak from so much exertion. but it’s still so fucking good, you’ve basically just given yourself over to him to do whatever he wants.
“you know your safeword,” he huffs. every orgasm, every time you need a break, he asks you your color, and every time it’s green. he’s keeping a close eye on you despite his feral demeanor, and he can tell that you’re not done yet. he trusts you’d use your safeword even if he couldn’t tell that you reached your limit.
“you made me do this, so you deal with it. you wanna tap out, tap out. I ain’t stoppin till I’m done,” he grunts. you feel so fucking good and you’re taking all of him so well. you’re still coming, still so damn wet and responding perfectly. those tears down your face only get him going more and more because he knows he’s fucking you good.
he brings your face to his, kissing you deeply once again. one of his hands moves to grip your thigh as his tongue swirls around yours. he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, nibbling and making sounds from the aggressive kiss. he releases you once again and gets back to business.
he bucks up into you like you owe him money or something, digging into his pussy. you hiccup, eyes closing tight as you clench around him for the nth time. “fuck, fuck, fuck, please,” you whimper. your arms are shaking from the exercise, barely holding you up. after a few moments, they just give out completely.
“color, baby,” ony grunts as he slows down. he releases his grip on your hair as soon as your arms drop, letting you rest your head in the crook of his neck. your mind is so fuzzy, having an out of body experience with the way he just keeps pleasuring you. “g-green, papa,” you sniffle, your arms weakly wrapping around his neck.
you’re getting tired and he knows it. you’re almost at your limit and so is he. you’re so damn stubborn and just as obsessed with him as he is you. you’ve been a real trooper and he’ll admit that he underestimated you. you can keep up and handle him better than anyone.
but he’s going to come out as the winner.
“c’mon, get up. arch yo’ shit how I like it.”
you blink a few times, hesitating for just a moment as you look up at him. you’re happy to do what he wants, you‘re just a bit too blissed out to comprehend.
“you can’t hear me or sum?” he asks. his hand comes down and smacks your ass as the other holds you in place. you squeal a bit, your arms tightening around his neck. “get up and arch. wanna cum on that pretty ass.”
damn, he’s just so sexy like this. demanding, unforgiving, and so so serious. “o-okay,” you murmur, moving as quickly as you can in your weakened state to get into position. it’s almost pathetic how you can’t hold yourself up, laying your head on the pillow below you as you arch your ass into the air.
“look at you,” he croons, his hand shifting to caress your body. he rubs up your back and shoulders, reaching around you to gives your perfect tits a massage. he presses kisses down your shoulders and back before his hands meet your hips. he squeezes and grabs, shaking the prize in his eyes so that it moves in that hypnotic way he loves so damn much. “fine ass. actin’ out all damn night cause you wanna get dicked down like a fuckin’ slut.”
his hand comes down on your skin again, making you gasp softly and jump. “daddy’s needy girl, huh? freaky ass don’t want me to be nice to you. you wanna get treated like a ragdoll. hope I gave you exactly what you asked for.”
you sniffle and nod, hugging the pillow closer to you. “so much more, daddy. I-I like when you’re nice too I just needed this,” you whimper, pushing your hips back towards him in search of more of his touch.
he hums, rubbing up and down the sides of your thighs. “I know you did, babygirl, but I ain’t ask, did I?” he chuckles as he slides back into you. his hands come to either side of your waist, pulling you back to meet his slow thrusts. “you ever disrespect me like that again, this is where you gone end up. fucked up cause your damn ego is too big. don’t make me out to be a lil punk ever again, you get me?”
“I get you, papa,” you whimper, nuzzling into the comforter below you. his hips start to pick up pace and at this point, you’re just a whining and moaning mess under his touch. your toes are curled up and your eyes are finding their home in the back of your head once again.
“that’s what I fuckin’ thought. just cause I’m soft with you don’t mean I’m soft, baby. I’ll remind you over and over if I have to. pissin’ me off when you supposed to be my good girl,” he grunts, hand smacking the side of your thigh. he presses down on your waist, making you arch deeper so he can keep fucking you right.
you sniffle, more tears falling from your eyes in your overstimulation. he’s deep in you, loud squelches sounding from your weeping pussy. “m’sorry, daddy,” you whimper, hugging the pillow closer to you as he digs you out. you’re too tired and too exhausted at this point, extra sensitive in your current state. you feel bad for making him feel some type of way, hurting his pride just to get a reaction, even if it did give you what you’ve wanted.
but you’ve been humbled.
“there it is, there she goes. good fuckin’ girl,” he grunts. “been waitin’ all night for that. you sorry? tell daddy. speak up.” his hips meet yours sharper and sharper, your eyes crossing from the force of his thrusts. you whine and moan, feeling him grip your curls from behind to lift your head. “can’t hear you, baby. tell daddy you sorry,” he grumbles.
“fuuuck, i’m sorry, daddy. won’t disrespect you like that again! please forgive me,” you moan, hands gripping whatever you can for support. all you can do is take it, take it, take it, his hands holding you down by your waist and his hips never stopping. his eyes roll back and so do yours as you can feel that coil building in your stomach again.
“daddy’s gonna humble your pretty self whenever he needs to. don’t forget who run this shit,” he groans. his hands tighten around your waist and his breathing deepens into moan after moan. “keep tellin’ daddy you sorry. you want me to forgive you? you gone have to beg for it if you wanna catch this nut.”
“m’sorry, m’sorry, m’sorryyyy,” you whine and nod frantically. “want it, ony, gimme it! please, I’m so sorry! I was wrong, so fucking wrong. i’m gonna fucking come,” you huff. another smack lands on your ass and you whimper in response. “yeah, know that’s right,” ony grunts. you feel so fucking good, look so damn good. he just can’t get enough of your sounds.
“please, please, please,” you sob. “please forgive your babyyy, I’ll never please in your face again!” ony chuckles and lands another spank to your ass. you start to clench around him as your release crashes down on you. it hits you like a truck, and you actually feel breathless, moaning loudly s you make yet another mess of the sheets. “yes, yes, yes! oh fuck, ony, so perfect,” you cry.
ony fucks you through it, jaw dropping and eyebrows furrowing at the way you clench and spasm around him. “mmmm, fuck. take that shit, come all on this dick, princess. you sound so good begging for me. I forgive you, baby, swear I do. pussy too good to stay mad at you. fuck, I’m bouta nut,” he gasps.
he pulls out quickly, working himself with his hand as his other keeps his grip on you. he comes with a loud groan, painting your ass with his release as he breathes deep. he pants as he makes sure to get every last drop on that perfect bum of yours, hips twitching from the overstimulation. “holy fuck,” he moans. if you hadn’t already come before, his moans definitely would’ve sent you over the edge.
you collapse onto your stomach as you pant, eyes fluttering closed as you sit in awe of the night. never did you think that all of that was going to happen. you breathe deeply, feeling a chill go down your spine as your body calms. your limbs feel like you just left the gym and you’re truly, without a doubt, completely fucked out. you learned your lesson.
for the most part.
ony flops down next to you as he catches his breath, his arm covering his eyes. he hadn’t even realized how pent up he was. he’ll admit, he feels better. he’s glad he’s gotten his point across. the two of you stay like that for a while, letting your breathing even out as you recover from your overstimulation.
after a while, his eyes open and immediately find you, taking in your features. you look exhausted, but in a good way. he knows you’re going to sleep well tonight… and upon closer inspection, it looks like you’re on your way to that already.
he slowly sits up and reaches over to you, pressing a loving kiss to your forehead. then he quietly leaves to the en suite bathroom and grabs a towel, running it under water. while it sits, he starts the tub. he returns just as quietly and uses the towel to gently clean the mess he left on your bum, being sure not to irritate the sore skin.
he discards the towel and calls out to you softly. “hey, baby,” he murmurs as he walks towards your side of the bed. he leans over, his thumb now softly tracing your jaw.
“hi,” you greet softly, your eyes opening. today’s been a long day, but very very great. you feel so sleepy and satisfied and you’re ready for bed.
“you okay, princess? how you feelin’?” he questions. he’s looking at you intently, searching your face for any signs of discomfort. it makes your heart flutter like always. you love him so damn much.
“I’m okay, ony. I really liked it, which I’m sure you could tell,” you laugh softly. it’s true, if your current state is anything to go by. you look all kinds of relaxed and he could tell that he made you come quite a few times tonight.
“you sure?” he asks again, hand now softly caressing your hip. he’s gentle as ever, back to being the ony that you’re used to. careful, attentive. “tell me bout myself if you need to,” he murmurs, making you laugh tiredly in response.
“• ᥫ᭡ •, baby, I’m serious,” he mumbles, cupping your cheek. “I love you. I need to know you’re good.” you can see the sincerity in his eyes and it makes you smile fondly. this man love loves you and you’re very grateful for him.
“I’m good, ony. I promise,” you reassure. you’re better than good, honestly. you’re fully satisfied, still secure in the fact that ony loves you and would never hurt you. he smiles and caresses your cheek for a little longer.
“good,” he murmurs, hands caressing you nonstop. his touch is so soothing that it’s almost putting you to sleep. “you were so perfect for me tonight, baby. you did so well taking all of me… I’m proud of you.” his words make you smile and he leans to press a kiss to your lips. “thanks, pa. love you so much,” you say softly.
“I love you more, babygirl,” he croons and kisses you once more. you look so beautiful, all tired and satisfied, looking up at him with heavy eyelids. he knows you’re seconds from sleep, but after such a long night the both of you really need to get clean.
“c’mere, princess,” he mutters, shifting to scoop you up into his arms. “gonna get you all cleaned up and then we’ll sleep, okay?” he says. you nod, curling up against him as your eyes fall shut. he presses a kiss to your forehead and carries you to the bathroom.
he sets you down first and then he follows to slide behind you, both of you sinking into the hot water with a sigh. ony’s eyes shut for a moment as he holds you close to him, rubbing your thigh tenderly. he stays like that for a while, feeling you lean back against him. you’re in bliss, just being held by him while the water relaxes your tired muscles.
eventually, he leans to press a kiss to your shoulder. he starts to wash you, murmuring soft reassurances in your ear. he’s careful, his touch making you hum softly, and you just about melt into his arms. he cleans you both, taking his time to caress and kiss whatever he can reach. he needs to make sure there’s no underlying tension after such a night, and he’s glad to see that you really are okay. just exhausted.
soon there both of you are dry and ony changes the sheets as you do your nighttime routine, wanting to make sure you both are as comfortable as you can be. when you exit the bathroom, you drop onto the bed with a light groan. ony chuckles and slides in next to you, pulling you close.
your back is against his chest, his nose tucked into the crook of your neck as your scent takes over his senses. he presses several tender kisses to your skin as he holds you close. you hum lightly in response, eyes closed as you bask in his sweet touch.
“I love you, princess,” he murmurs reverently. it’s the last thing you hear before sleep overcomes you.
a/n: started this in feb lol. you know how you take a picture but stare at it too long and start to hate it? yeah. me thinks I like the end product, though. I hope ya like itttt! feedback always welcome and wanted <3
Content Warning — toy use (bullet vibr*tor), *rgasm denial, dom Terry, descriptive language, profanity, p*rn w/ no plot, first pov
There’s a calculating look in those hazel eyes. You hate it. At least for right now.
You watch him with squinted eyes yourself, a slight frown on your lips as you watch him pretend to be oblivious.
It’s not working.
Regardless, he keeps his focus on the road ahead, one hand on the bottom of the steering wheel while the other rests along the car door’s ledge. His hand is hidden in the door’s pocket, toying with something.
No doubt, that fucking remote control.
The car jostles as he narrowly avoids a small pothole.
“You just gon’ keep burning holes into the side’a my head or what?”
He hadn’t looked away from the road. You watch the corner of his lips twitch when he decides to press them into a thin line. The muscles in his jaw tense before ultimately relaxing.
He’s trying not to smile. You know it. That steel-cold stare of his isn’t enough to hide it. Terry can play a convincing stoic, but you know better.
And you hate it. You hate being the trembling mess, a dewy sheen over your beautiful face. But, it was the cross you had to bear—in exchange for him agreeing to pay for your nails.
Granted, you didn’t have to do this. Terry’s a gentleman, he likes making sure his woman is covered. And you love that about him.
But, his mischievous side seemed to have come out to play today, and you found yourself on the receiving end of it.
“You think this is funny?”
He blinks, still staring ahead. “Funny?” Finally, he breaks his gaze away to give a simple glance. Like the option of looking your way wasn’t even given a second thought. “Sumn supposed to be funny?”
An intake of air passes through you as you open your mouth to respond, yet you’re swiftly cut off by a sharp gasp of your own.
Mini quakes wrack throughout your being, stronger towards your core. A swooping feeling travels to your lower tummy. Weakly, your thighs squeeze together, shortly falling apart there after.
Your body’s been through this song and dance for too long—the last fifteen minutes to be exact. It’s wearing your patience and strength thin.
Very thin.
A trickle of wetness slowly seeps into the seat of your panties, soaking them further. At this rate, you’re sure there’s a wet spot in your jeans. How does he expect you to leave the car like this?
Your pussy flutters around the foreign object buried within its slick walls. A violent shudder moves through you, uncontrolled.
“What’s the joke, baby?” He looks at you again. Those big, golden-brown eyes pierce you for a second longer than last time. “Hm? Tell me.”
Your lips quiver, a weakened whimper slipping past its cracks.
His voice lowers as he stares ahead at the road before you two, heavier than usual. “I wanna laugh.”
“A-auh … shit…”
Your voice is a tiny, broken mess. The muscles in your stomach contract as you lean forward, that vibrating toy putting pressure against your spot. Your mouth drops open, eyes threatening to close.
“T-Terry—“
“Hm?”
You don’t even see him do it, but you catch the subtle flex of his veiny forearm; Your eyes widen, the vibrations grow stronger, rougher.
“Stop, I—“ You try to remember how to swallow your spit. The hand you’ve got wrapped around the seat’s armrest tightens enough to make your knuckles pale. “I-I can’t—“
“Can’t what?”
You’re panting, chest rising and falling quickly. Heat is spreading throughout your body, you feel like you’re going to lose your mind if you don’t shed at least one layer of clothing.
Your pelvic floor is clenched tight, your body trying to prevent a serious flood coming its way.
“I’m gonna—fuuuck!” Your eyes roll back as the muscles of your core weaken for a full second, the threat of your orgasm growing more and more serious. “M’gonna … cum.”
You barely hear the scoff. It feels like the longest second of your life. You feel like you’re a balloon, ready to pop, but the gas tank is shut off right before you do; The vibration comes to a halt.
Echoes of it still travel throughout your body, as your pussy clenches down repeatedly on the toy—a nicely sized bullet vibe.
Your body wavers as you slowly look his way. There’s a worn look on your face.
It’s hilarious, to him at least.
You can tell by the one-sided smirk he confidently sports. You feel small under his stare, subjected to his whims; Here you are, doubled over in your seat, trembling, while he’s sat back, relaxed. The car is driving as smoothly as ever.
“Did you?”
Meekly, you shake your head. All of your fire has been snuffed out by two little clicks to a remote control.
“Good.” The smirk slips from his face. “I just got this truck … try not to mess up the seats.”
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