author’s note: never seen anybody write about duke being your bd sooo i did it. enjoy love's ♡ btw this isnt proof read so ignore any typo's
synopsis : you wasn’t expecting company—especially not him. but duke shows up unannounced, old feelings come rushing back with your belly heavy and emotions high, he reminds you exactly who you belong to…
pairing: duke dennis x black!fem reader.
⚠️ warning: smut (18+), pregnancy, oral sex (f. receiving), possessive behavior, explicit language, breeding talk, emotional vulnerability, aftercare, cuddling, ex-lovers dynamic, fluff + smut mix
you were rewatching STAR for the third time, sound turned up just enough to drown out the quiet. the scene where they sang “I Bring Me” had just started, and you was singing along between bites, off-key and full, fries sliding off your belly onto the blanket draped across your lap.
you weren’t expecting nobody.
you set the plate down slow, exhaling heavy as you stood up. your body moved different now. slow, tired. everything took a little more effort. your waddle was real as hell—belly first, then hips, then your ass jiggling behind you. your shorts rode up with every step, barely covering anything.
when you opened the door, the light caught his chain before his face.
a black NBA Essentials hoodie, black joggers low on his hips, black Yankees cap layered over a durag. chain swinging when he tilted his head. he held up two grocery bags in one hand and a fat-ass roll of bills in the other, smirking like he had every right to be there.
“don’t look so shocked, ma,” he said, that deep ass voice curling right down your spine. “you know i was gon check on you.”
you rolled your eyes, stepping aside. “you coulda called.”
“you woulda ignored it,” he said without hesitation, stepping inside before you even moved. he brushed past, that Duke scent trailing behind him—clean, warm, that cologne you used to love smelling. he dropped the bags on your kitchen counter and turned to you, eyes already dropping to your thighs.
“you always eatin now,” he said, head tilted like he was trying not to grin. “ain’t even mad at it. that ass got heavier. belly pokin’ out. titties fightin through that tank.”
you rolled your eyes and turned back toward the couch, muttering, “duke…”
he watched you walk, slow and locked in, eyes tracing every curve. he leaned back against the counter, one arm folded across his chest, the other dangling low, his thumb rubbing over the side of that roll of money.
“you glowy as hell,” he said softer. “pretty. big. full wit my baby.”
you picked up a fry like his voice ain’t just ripple through your whole damn body. like your thighs ain’t just clench together under that blanket. like your hormones weren’t already ragged as fuck.
he didn’t move. just stared.
you blinked, chewing slow. “don’t start.
“nah, i’m just askin,” he said, voice flat now. jaw tense. “somebody slidin through? somebody think he finna play step daddy?”
you let your gaze rise slow, biting your lip. “why? you gon fight him?”
his jaw flexed, chain shifting against his hoodie. “don’t play wit me, ma,” he said low. “i’ll kill a nigga behind you. pregnant or not.”
and the scary part? you knew he meant that shit.
you gave him a look, then turned your eyes back to your food. “you pop up like you still my man.”
you huffed a quiet laugh. “nah. you was.”
he pushed off the counter, walking toward you with you. his grin stretched wide, but it didn’t touch his eyes.
“ion gotta be your man to still love you, ma.”
you looked away, heart thumping like it was tryna warn you. his voice always did this. always hit deep. like it had roots.
he sat beside you, hand resting on your belly before you could even stop him. wide palm, warm and steady. rubbing slow.
you looked away, biting your lip. his voice always did that—crept into places it ain’t have no business being.
“you think i’m just gon sit back and watch somebody else raise my son?” he murmured.
“he ain’t even here yet,” you said quietly.
“don’t matter.” his eyes lifted to yours. “i’m here. and i ain’t goin nowhere.”
your chest tightened. the way he said it was so simple. like it wasn’t complicated.
you bit your lip hard. “now we a family?”
“been one. you just mad at me right now.”
you didn’t say nothing. but his hand stayed there. rubbing slow. grounding you.
“i’m serious, ma. i wanna do this for real. be home. be here. rub on you every night. go to appointments. be the first one to hold him. raise our lil man together. you know that’s what you wanted.”
you blinked fast. didn’t wanna cry, but damn if it wasn’t bubbling under your ribs.
“ain’t nobody ever loved you like i did,” he added, voice deep and rich. “and you know that.”
and then his hand moved again, sliding under your tank. resting right beneath your tit, fingers warm, rubbing soft, just enough to make your nipples tighten.
“they full as fuck,” he said, voice gone raspy. “you leaking yet?”
you smacked your lips. “nigga, what—”
but he was already pulling your tank up, easing one tit out slow, heavy in his palm. his lips dropped before you could stop him, tongue warm and swirling before he started sucking.
your head dropped back. “oh shit…”
he groaned low, sucking deeper, his other hand sliding up your thigh to hold you in place.
“duke,” you said again, but it came out softer this time, breathier.
“say what you want, ma. but i know you feel this shit too,” he murmured, fingers teasing under the hem of your shorts. “yo body still mine.”
you blinked down at him, lips parting as you exhaled.
he moved closer, lips brushing the swell of your stomach.
“my girl right here…” kiss. “and she sittin pretty, all heavy and full and fuckin perfect…”
his voice dropped deeper with each kiss, each word dragging heat between your legs.
you shivered, thighs pressing together.
“yo ass always talking,” you muttered.
he smirked against your skin, voice vibrating low. “and you always actin like you don’t love it.
you liked the way his hands felt—strong and sure, like he never forgot your body. the way he talked to you, touched you, kissed you like you wasn’t swollen and waddling and hormonal.
like you was still his girl.
his fingers dipped under the waistband of your shorts, pulling them down slow.
you lifted your hips without thinking.
“still so wet for me,” he muttered, brushing over your pussy. “fuck… this how you walkin round? ain’t no panties on?”
“was hot,” you said, trying to sound unfazed.
he chuckled, deep and low. “you always stay hot when i’m not around. like this pussy know when i’m gone.”
he kissed the inside of your thigh, hand sliding down to press right over your clit.
“lemme take care of you, ma,” he said, voice damn near a whisper. “you ain’t gotta do nothin.”
you opened your mouth to say something smart, but the second his tongue slid between your folds, all you could do was moan.
he sucked slow, teasing your clit with the tip of his tongue, both hands gripping your thighs like he wasn’t going nowhere.
he was gonna stay there, between your legs, with his face buried in the pussy he swore was his.
his tongue moved like he missed the taste of you—slow, deep licks that had your thighs trembling.
his grip on your legs tightened every time you tried to squirm, his arms locked around them like he wasn’t letting you run.
“nah, don’t do that,” he said against your pussy, voice low and slick with heat. “you takin this. open up for me, ma.”
you whined, back arching into the cushions, hands fisting at the couch.
“yes you can,” he murmured, dragging his tongue up your slit, slow and thick. “you gon cum for me.”
his lips wrapped around your clit again, sucking hard this time, and you damn near came off the couch.
“that’s it,” he breathed, eyes locked on you, tongue flicking your clit with just enough pressure to make your eyes roll back. “cum for me. right on my fuckin tongue. let that shit go.”
your body locked up, heat spreading through your belly as it clenched under his palm—his mouth never letting up, not even when your hips bucked or your thighs trembled.
“shit,” you moaned, voice cracking as you came, pussy pulsing against his mouth, soaking his lips, his chin, his goatee.
he groaned deep in his chest, licking through it, slow and hungry.
when he finally pulled back, his lips were glistening, eyes dark and soft all at once.
you laid there, breathing hard, legs wide open and twitching, tank pushed up, shorts barely hanging on.
he stood up, adjusting his sweats like he was fighting the urge to take it further, but he didn’t.
instead, he reached for a napkin off your counter, ran it under warm water, and came back.
“lemme clean you up,” he said gently, voice still deep but soft now.
you blinked at him, cheeks flushed, still catching your breath
he knelt again, careful as he wiped between your legs, soothing your oversensitive skin, whispering little “i got you” and “you good, ma?” while he worked.
then he pulled your shorts back up and eased your tank down, helping you sit up slow.
you didn’t even have to ask—he just moved on instinct, grabbing the blanket off the back of the couch and wrapping it around you.
then he sat beside you, tugging you into his chest like it was nothing.
your head found his shoulder, one leg tucked under you, the other thrown over his thigh, belly snug between you
he grabbed the remote, went to Hulu and flipped to Empire, and turned the volume down low.
“we watchin season one,” he said. “ain’t nothin hittin like when cookie got outta jail.”
you snorted, sleepy smile pulling at your lips. “you corny.”
“and you love it,” he said, kissing your temple, one hand rubbing slow circles into your belly.
you didn’t say it out loud, but yeah…
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