summary: This summer is one for the books. you've graduated from your dream school and you get to be outside with your favorite cousin. But returning to the town you ran away from has its little patch of drama
warning: 18+ mdni!!, aaron!fromatl!xreader, bully!aaron, black!fem!reader, prissy!reader (as she should be), southern dialect, Racist remarks towards reader, manipulative side character, drama drama drama, n-word ,smut, very dirty talk, they kind of get aggressive?, a slightish daddy kink, pet names (mama, ma, baby), unprotected p in v (keep the rub ON!) ,dom/sub switch, missonary, cowgirl, reverse cowgirl, from the side. trifling phone calls, cheating (kinda)
wc:9.1k (I got carried away)
Music, smoke, and the overwhelming smell of alcohol practically made the party more crammed than it already was. Your back held up the wall as you watched people laugh and dance. You were waiting for your cousin to return but for whatever reason she had not made it back. Not that you were anxious about her absence though, you were enjoying yourself…surprisingly enough.
Fifteen year old you wouldn’t have thought twice about attending a party with anybody from the place you ran from first thing out of graduation. It wasn’t even in your plans to be here but Mina had brought it to your attention the minute you got back home. The host was a former homecoming king of your school and had just graduated themselves.
Leaving town, despite your parent’s wishes, to attend an HBCU hundreds of miles away. Despite the horrible commute from the eastside to the Northside, they made it a mission to get you away from your “unpleasant” and “radically diverse” neighborhood. That was all according to them though. You made your best memories with the most amazing people over the years. The blend of cultures motivated you to want to explore your own. Even with your parents trying to cut down your play time short everyday as a child to avoid influence, you always made the most of it.
You’d spend hours upon hours researching black history during school hours and during your free time. The Good, the bad, and the treacherous but most importantly…the beauty. At just 10 years old, you became infatuated with all things you. When old enough, most of your paychecks, sometimes all if you had it to spare, went towards clothes, self care items, etc. Your mom often had plenty to say and despite their shared opinions about your influence by the surrounding area, your dad wasn’t one to interfere with your spending habits.
“Y/N, you need to start picking a more age appropriate style for yourself. You can’t go around presenting yourself to others like some 5 year old still obsessed with princesses and fairy tales.” Your mom announced as you maneuvered around the kitchen looking for items to throw your breakfast together. “I’m tired of that school calling me for nonsense and I scheduled a silk press for you on Thursday. Take care of that bird’s nest you got up there.” she mumbled the last thinking it went unheard.
Your brows furrowed. You’d spent hours on your hair the night before. You thought it looked cute despite the multiple attempts you made to just stop and throw it in a puff. Your hair was rather thick stopping a little past your bra strap with type 4 coils that sometimes had a mind of their own.
“Oh no need. I already have my hair done.” You politely dismissed, stuffing an apple into your bookbag.
“I wasn’t asking y/n.”
“I know” your eyes met hers as you finished zipping up your bag.
Your dad signed. “Leave her alone. She looks fine and her outfit is within the dress code.” he had heard and wasn’t about to listen to another argument this early. “Punkin go wait in the car. I’ll be out in a little.”
On the other hand, your school was not the most accepting and you knew why too.Your family was one of early bloomers so you filled out your clothing a little more than the girls around. Not that you cared though. Mainly because you couldn’t change it and you didn’t want to either. You were comfortable in your body, your hair, and your skin. People around were not used to this and that was their problem not yours.
You’d always receive stares and hear the not so quiet jokes made. One would think you were the only black person attending. In all actuality, you were just the first to not shy away from yourself
That being said, you were almost always the talk of the class. As outspoken as you were, how could you not be? But it was one particular group of boys you always caught the attention of: Joshua, Michael, Logan, and Aaron.
It was their everyday mission to antagonize you. The satisfaction on their faces when you would end up in trouble with your teachers, or your principal, was infuriating. The snide remarks as you would leave from being chastised would always end up with you locked in a bathroom stall crying tears of anger. You couldn’t seem to understand why they would target you so much.
“Well, if it isn’t Miss Ruby bridges! Been waiting for you! Where’s the rest of the black panther party?” the prepubescent voice of Michael, the brunette ringleader, rang in your ears. Every day it was a new insult with him. It was so strange because you just knew he did his research solemnly for insults and never to diminish his ignorance. You weren’t in the mood for him today so your response to him today was silence.
An eraser was launched into your afro and snickers sounded off throughout the classroom. Your hands reached to remove it. “Nothing to say today?”
Still you said nothing, continuing to focus on the video that played on the projector ahead. Your hair being pelted with different items and the laughter becoming more audible. A subtle shake of your leg became audible through the classroom.
“Can you stop the tapping? I can’t hear” you turned seeing a smirking Janica. Yet your foot still continued to go and the taunting didn’t subside. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Aaron dap up his friend, and a smile on his face that showed almost all 32. That was always his thing. Never saying anything but finding his friend’s jokes so very funny.
“Baaabbeee stop” a blonde haired, green eyed girl under his arm chirped into the air. You were over this class and these people.
“Y/N can you stop with the tapping? Janica asked you nicely.” Your teacher called from the front of the classroom. A look of surprise almost flashed over your face before you got up from your seat and exited the room. As you expected, your mom and your dad were contacted and you were put on punishment. But not fully with your dad taking your side.
You’d moved on from that though. Kinda..
“Whew! I’m sorry boo I got a little caught up with my new boo daddy over there” your cousin appeared, two red solo cups in her hand. One extended towards you, “I got you some el jimador”
Sucking your teeth, you turned your lip up quick. “You know I said I was cool off tequila Mimi. I don’t need a repeat of last time.”
“Oh stop complaining you were so fun that night!”
“I was so drunk that night”
“I took care of you though! You made it out” she pointed. “Now loosen up boo. Cmon now” she tipped the cup towards you. “You’ve graduated in the Top 3% and you already got a job lined up boo! You don’t think you deserve a little night out? I know you was put up all them years.”
You waved her off. “I got out Mimi” you attended a darty or two…freahman year. Couldn’t find it in you to continue.
“I hate liars” she sipped from her drink, looking around at the party. “We gotta get you a man-”
“No we don’t”
“Why not? Boo daddy got a cute friend. I’ll put you on”
“Mhm” you sipped from your cup, uninterested.
“I see what the problem is” your face frowned up a little
“What?”
“You still stuck on ole boy”
“Ew, hell nah” disgust written all over your face.
“So you did hook up with that one kappa you were always talking about?” she smiled, nudging you with her shoulder.
“See how you draggin’ it though? I mentioned him twice and no I did not hunch on that man.”
“I knew you wasn’t no solider for real.” she shook her head.
“I was not bout to get with him. That boy was a free for all”
“That’s why they have condoms.”
“You so damn nasty” you laughed. “And I’m really cool off this tequila”
“Well come dance with me then” she pleaded, pulling you towards the slightly crowded floor.
As you danced with your cousin, you could feel the liquor coursing through at this point. The DJ was mixing together hit after hit and all you and your cousin could do was move. Hyping each other up as if you were the only two out there.
It had been a long time since you’d gone out with her. She was your favorite cousin after all and with you being away, you didn’t have anyone to go out with. Truth be told that was the reason you didn’t attend as many parties while away.
Even with all the back to back hits the dj played and the fun you were having, you kept bumping shoulders with just about everybody. And for whatever reason you felt like you were being watched. The darkness of the party combined with everything, overstimulated you quickly. Exhaling hard, you leaned into your cousin telling her it was time to go. The tequila making your body hot and the influx of people on the dance floor only added to fire. She agreed and you two made your way out of the party.
“Finally some fresh air” You breathed.
“They were goin crazy in there. Got choked up a little myself honestly.”
“Aye!”
“‘scuse me!” You stopped and you turned to face a tall figure. “Ion know who but, this belong to one’a y’all” his low but clear tone of voice announced as he made it a few feet in front of you.
Patting your back pocket, you signed, “Oh my gosh, thank you.” you took the phone from his hand looking at his face finally.
“Fasho…Y/N right?” your face scrunched.
“Yeeah” tilting your head slightly as you observe the person’s features. The buzz cut, piercing blue eyes. I know this not..”Aaron?”
A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah”
“Uhuh” you assessed him from head to toe.“Thank you again. Bye” you grabbed your cousin’s hand continuing your way to the car. He moved to object.
“Wait-” Mina barely gets a chance to look back at the stranger again. “Wait girl hold up! How do you know him?” she breathed trying to keep up with your steps.
“Went to school with him” you said as you fumbled with the key fob trying to unlock the car.
“Wait he that little boy-”
“Not right now mimi” you interrupted about to get into the passenger side.
“Y/N!” your door was refusing to open at this moment for whatever God awful reason. You could hear his footsteps approaching.
“Please get from round me” you held your hand up halting him from getting any closer. “Mimi, open this door.” You jiggled the handle in frustration.
“I’m trying!”
“I ain’t tryna take up too much more of your time-”
“You not taking shit. I’m not tryna talk to you, period.” Your voice remained calm despite your true feelings.
“Cmon now. I know you not holdin’ grudges from all them years ago.” The cocky smirk on his face pissed you off. His hands were tucked into his pockets and head tilted, looking at you with all the audacity in the word. You looked at him trying to find the words right now but all you could muster up was:
“You for real right now?” The sound of the car unlocking caught your attention and you immediately pulled the handle. “I already said thank you for the phone. It’s no reason for you to be in my face.”
“You don’t know that”
“Don’t know what?”
“That there isn’t a reason”
“I know it’s not.”
He took a step closer, the door acting as a barricade between you two. “You coulda dropped something else.”
“I didn’t”
“Maybe your girl could have”
“She didn’t”
“Maybe it was just an open opportunity for me to come talk to you.” he shrugged and his hands found the door leaning on it. “Maybe it just took you being careless for me to finally have a good enough reason to talk to you.”
You stood there completely unmoved by his words.”Wow..”
“What?”
“Just…wow” your head shook in disbelief. You moved to make your way inside the car, closing the door behind you. Taking a step back from the car, he watched as you put on your seat belt and you and your cousin exchange inaudible words. That same stupid smirk on his face when you two pull off into the night.
Several days had gone by since that night. You would be lying if you said the moment hadn’t interrupted your thought process at least one time out of each day. What you couldn’t really understand is how different Aaron looked. It had been years of course, but his whole demeanor had changed.
It was a quick realization from the minute he approached you. He was not the same dude you would see in school. Never did ya’ll hold conversation before that night but you know for a fact he didn’t have that form of dialect in school. He didn’t have that sense of style either. It was as if you and him didn’t attend the same school. As if he didn’t hang around the friend group that he did.
The main question was..What the hell changed?
“I hate that auntie and nem sent you across town to that overly republican ass school. And I really don’t understand how the same dude from the other night went there with you. You sure that’s how you know that boy?”
“MiMi I really don’t want to talk about him right now” you continued to look at the T.V. screen in your cousin’s living room.
“I mean he was dressed kinda nice, talked smooth as hell, and my God did he smell good. Did you smell him?” rolling your eyes and looking over at her you sighed.
“So you don’t want to watch the show?”
“I just need to know a little more punkin. Like are you sure you ain’t meet him while away at college?” groaning softly you faced her.
“I am positive. We went through the same school district for majority of my life. He chilled with the same three white dudes everyday from middle school til graduation. You are just as confused as I am but Mimi I really want to watch the rest of this so can we please?”
“Okay okay” she threw her hands up in surrender. “No more mystery dude.” she fixed the blanket you two shared and turned up the volume on the T.V.
The episode concluded and your cousin turned to you. “OOh you know what would be good right now? Some pizza and a little sweet treat” her fingers pinching together as she picked up her phone. “You want pepperoni?”
“Sounds good to me. We getting the Pillsbury cinnamon rolls or going to that little bakery?” you started to put on your shoes moving to get your things. “And order two pizzas. I’m hungry as hell.”
“Not gone lie, I already had both in the cart” you laughed a little reaching for the handle of the door. “And I want the Pillsbury ones. Miss Addie be too packed on Thursdays. You want me to come with you or you got it?”
“Oh please you weren't getting up to go anywhere” your head shook opening the door. “Text me what you want to drink!” closing the door behind you and making your way down stairs you hit the corner and right into somebody.
“Oh my Gosh! I am so sorry” a petite brunette quickly apologized to you. Her country accent was obvious as she continued to explain how she didn’t see you coming around the corner.
“No problem really, we both weren’t paying attention.” you assured. Going to move around her, you stopped seeing none other than Aaron. His face almost held a little bit of confusion before the corner of his lip curved upward. He finished making his way up the steps and stood beside the girl.
“Wassup?” he greeted.
“Oh nothing babe, just had a head on collision.” she chirped, laughing and oblivious that he wasn’t inquiring but talking to you. As you stood there trying to avoid eye contact with him, you decided to end this interaction.
“Yeah, ya’ll have a good one though.” you went to move around but your path was blocked slightly but his figure.
“Where you off to?” aaron took in your attire. Your oversized pink graphic tee and grey flowy bottoms attempted to cover your curves but failed. He could see the slight movement of your thighs as you shifted to your right leg. Your puff pulled back, complimented with an oversized baby pink silk scrunchy.
“None of your business, ‘scuse me” you side stepped again as did he. His finger accidentally grazes your arm and almost makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. He was close enough for you to smell his cologne and your eyes fluttered close for half a second. Pull yourself together
“Just makin’ conversation” he eyed you, tongue grazing over his bottom lip before taking it in. your eyes following the moment before looking into his eyes.
“Well stop” a small laugh left him. “You always this annoyin?”
“Only with you”
“Lucky me”
The brunette stood eyeing you two. “You guys know each other or?..”
“Yeah” “No” you and him faced off a little. You lightly smacked your teeth ready for this to be over.
“Went to school together.” his attention never leaving you, despite your eyes finding every other thing in the hallway to look at right now.
“Ooooh that’s cool!” looking at her, your face contorted a little. She not there all the way I see.
“Right” he agreed with a smile growing on his face watching the aggravation settle on your face.
“You two should exchange numbers! Aaron’s parties are the best! He has one coming up soon. He can text you all the details.” You had never been so irritated with a stranger this far into your adulthood, but these two were really doing it to you.
“No-”
“Good idea Ashley” his gaze still laser focused on you. Looking back and forth between the two, you contemplated pushing him down the stairs. “Would love to catch up with an old friend”
“Stop with the bullshit Aaron” you mumbled.
A small smile with the tiniest bit of mischief adorned his face. “Cmon Y/N it's been a minute and it’ll be fun.
Side eyeing the girl, you almost rolled your eyes at her smile that was urging you two to swap information.
Just get it and block him.
Reluctantly you held out for his phone, he willingly placed it in your hand. When finished you turned away from them. “Alright, I really have to get going.”
“Okay, see you soon!” Ashley waved as you started to go down the stairs again. Passing by Aaron you could feel his body heat from just a few feet away. You were pissed that your heart was actually racing right now because you really didn’t know why. Breathing deeply, you hurried down the stairs.
The sun was long gone by now and the light from the T.V. was the only thing that lit the room up. You had both fallen asleep after consuming half of your pizzas and downing a couple cinnamon rolls. Netflix was asking if you still wanted to watch the show when you came to.
Ding ding
Looking over at your phone, you tried to make your eyes adjust to the brightness from both screens. Your eyes almost acted as lenses as you focused in on the screen. Seeing it was imessage, you unlocked it trying to see who it was.
Xxx-xxx-3874
You up?
Bye Aaron
Xxx-xxx-3874
So cranky
Your girlfriend know you text girls this late?
Xxx-xxx-3874
What girlfriend?
Ew
Xxx-xxx-3874
I’m fr
Your boyfriend must be next to you right now.
Tryna deflect nd shit
You more annoying than I remember
Xxx-xxx-3874
So you been thinkin bout me?
Don’t flatter yourself
Xxx-xxx-3874
lol I been thinkin bout you too.
Asked around nd heard you graduated. Congratulations.
The text makes you sit up a little.
What you want aaron? Like fr
Xxx-xxx-3874
Just checkin in on you.
stop. never did nothing like that before.
Xxx-xxx-3874
don’t be that way.
I got a bit of a business proposition for you
No.
Xxx-xxx-3874
you not even gone let me say wassup first?
No
Xxx-xxx-3874
It's a job though
I know you looking for one, just graduated nd shit. you really gone turn down some extra cash?
…what is it?
Xxx-xxx-3874
Tutoring
They really need this credit too
Said they’ll pay well
Ok, how much and what subject?
Xxx-xxx-3874
Biology course
$25 hr
I’ll sleep on it.
You didn’t read his reply but instead turned your phone face down and nuzzled further into the couch under your blanket. Twenty-five an hour sounded like the perfect amount to get you enough for a deposit on an apartment. You were actively waiting on your first day at a job that had interviewed you last week. They’d hired you almost immediately offering slightly above the intermediate salary.
Excited was an understatement but when looking for a place outside of your parent’s residence, it was nearly impossible. Your monetary graduation gifts and your dad’s gas fill every few days kept you stable. Even with your job away at school, you had managed to save but application fees were adding up.
You had text Aaron scheduling for next week and told him where the person could meet you at and when. You’d already been sitting there for thirty minutes prior to when the person was supposed to actually arrive. You messed with the waistband of your capris as you read from the books that you had searched high and low in the library pertaining to biology. This was your favorite course so you were beyond ready for this session to start.
A chair pulled out in front of you and a waft of floral perfume invaded your nostrils and made you glance up.
“Hey!” the girl greeted with an eager smile on her face. “I’m Ashley, from y'know the other day.” Laughing a little she placed her bag on the chair beside her. “I would’ve set this whole thing up myself if I knew you would be my saving grace for this semester.”
Your brows lifted and a sharp exhale left your nose. “All things happen for a reason, yeah?”
“Oh for sure! I have been sulking all week trying to get a tutor at my school but the minute Aaron started talking about how smart you were in school, and how you were salutatorian and everything. I couldn’t help but know if you were interested in tutoring!” she continued on and on but you were still stuck on Aaron bragging about you to a complete stranger.
“Of course! I don’t mind at all. We can get started right now actually..” you reached for your stack of books and she revealed hers and the session began.
It was going very well to say the least. Ashley was someone that preferred strict clarification on the lesson and she could not receive that from her professor. She expressed how he was a foreign man whose accent was..rather thick. That sometimes he was so preoccupied with his other job that all she could rely on was zoom meetings and not in person class.
You definitely understood and by the time you two wrapped up Ashley was still continuing her ramble. Not that you cared, She had already paid you and now you were just being a listening ear.
“It's just so funny because Aaron never talks about high school or anything but with you, it was the most he had ever mentioned that place. You two must have been very close and just lost touch.” She packed her books and you put away your things.
“Oh no. we never really talked”
It was as if that went over her head because she continued to ramble. “I’ve met a lot of his friends or homeboys, as he calls it. He doesn’t have any lady friends though. Well there is one but he met them through me…” she continued to rant as you nodded your head, mind in the clouds.
You thought you knew how to talk but this girl blew you by a long shot.
“I guess he really doesn’t go for black girls” that pulled you out of your daze.
“I’m sorry?” she looked at you.
“Oh no offense or anything, he just mentioned how he had his heart broken by a black girl before and blah blah blah….” She waved it off as if she just told you the weather or something.
“I mean, do you know any girl that urges her boyfriend to get another girls number ? he’s not really one to go for blacks so I know it wouldn’t have been any funny business going on.”
You stood kind of frozen in place trying to understand how the conversation even got here.
“Uhuh”
“But you know how some guys are with their preferences and everything. And no offense again yknow no hard feelings, but I don’t think that’s such a bad thing yeah? Like I have no problem dating black guys. Most of them seem to flock to me anyway. Like white girl magic or something” she looked at you smiling a little and as always, completely oblivious.
Almost in shock , your mouth slightly agape trying to find out what is going on right now. “Um I don’t think-”
“I’m not trying to make you mad or anything. It's just a majority of black men prefer white women. Like your beautiful but from my understanding they just kind of grow tired of some of the..other ones”
Your head tilted slightly “Other ones?”
“Yeah like” she stopped and looked around before saying “the ghetto ones”
“Ooooh” your brow rose in a mock realization. “I see”
“I knew you would understand! I knew you were a nice one”
“I think that concludes this session for today” you got up from the table starting out the door.
“See you later! Oh wait I didn’t get your nu-” you had made it to the library’s steps, fumbling with your phone trying to dial your cousin. The phone rang twice before she picked up.
“Mimi”
“What girl? What’s wrong?” her tone of voice was laced with concern when she heard yours.
“I think I’m being punk’d!”
“Huh?!”
“Everything was going so well Mina. We were reading together, she was asking questions, we had genuinely reached flow state and somehow everything went left.” You proceeded to tell her about what just transpired and if you were there to see it, you would have seen how her jaw collapsed to the floor.
Already you were in your car continuing your chat with her on the way back to your house.
“I have never been more confused in my life, Mimi. It was like a switch just went off in her head and words just started flowing out non stop. Like this was definitely a conversation you would expect to hear between her and a best friend maybe but this is just-”
“Some bullshit!” she yelled through the phone. Mina was honestly more pissed than you were. You and her clearly had different up bringings but because she was ready to run one with Ashley. You were used to this type of talk just caught off guard by it. “This hoe called you an ugly black bitch and that her nigga wouldn’t touch you with a ten foot pole! Then she proceeded to tell YOU! She understands WHY!?! This bitch is looney!
“Damn…you right” now parked in your driveway, you were zeroed in on her rant.
“Bi- YOU DAMN RIGHT I’M RIGHT”
Sighing a little, your head hit the back of your seat. “This is far too much. I need that $25 an hour but not that damn bad.”
“I’d tell you what you best do, but you wouldn’t like it.”
“And what’s that?”
“Betta go snatch his lightskin ass up! He clearly ain’t tellin her the whole truth the way he was lookin at you the other night. He look like he one to trick too?!? Yeah i’d be on that as of yesterday”
You shook your head. “I don’t even want to insert myself in that mess Mina. Not even worth it.”
“Oh you onna them.”
“Onna who?”
“Them women that like to take the high road. I like to too, being a lady and all but bitch I’d be zoomin’ down the back road today.”
Laughing, you got out of the car and started toward the porch. “Imma call you back in a few, just let me get in here and get settled.”
“Okay, but call me back!”
“I will Mimi bye!”
Dragging yourself through the house and into your room, you plopped on your bean bag chair in the corner. Closing your eyes, sleep started to take over mind before your phone started vibrating again.
Picking it up without looking at it, you groaned “Mimi I said i would call you back later.”
A deep laugh came from the other side of the phone. “Ain’t a day that goes by that you not irritated”
Sighing hard “Why are you calling me?”
“Was checking to see how the tutorin’ went today…and wanted to invite you and ya girl to a kickback at my place.”
“It was good until it wasn’t and no”
“Whatcha mean, why not?”
“Cause you and your girlfriend are weird.” you hung up before he could say anything else.
Aaron called back immediately. You sent it to voice mail and he called back once again.
“What?!?”
“Man you can chill out on that girlfriend shit”
“Bye Aaron”
“Hol’ on Y/N, damn! You rushin’ and I know you ain’t got nothin’ to do.”
“There ain’t never been a time when me and you needed to talk to one another””
“So you didn’t just hear me invite you to a kick back at my place?”
“Didn’t you just hear me say no?”
“Y/N”
“Aaron”
He laughed a little, “Stop pretending like you don’t wanna pull up”
“I’m not pretending”
“Right. See you this weekend.”
“You won’t” you hung up growing tired of the back and forth. “Arrogant ass nigga”
A couple days later
You and Mina sat in her car, parked along the cul de sac right outside of Aaron’s house. You two had spent the last hour arguing about how you failed to say anything about the party. She had found out about it from social media. A close friend of a close friend of Aaron's decided to post the set up and upon asking you if you wanted to go to a party, you’d let the unaccepted invite slip.
“What part of ‘We outside this summer’ don’t you understand?”
Leaning back in the passenger seat and looking over at her, you shook your head. “We can be outside at the club or something. We didn’t have to come here.”
“Girl boo! You actin’ real put up right now. Just because ole boy and you not on the best of terms don’t mean we gotta miss out on a good time.”
“That’s exactly what that mean”
“I-Get out the car.” Mina went to open her door, mumbling to herself. “Not bout to do this with you. All these fine ass men out here.”
Get out the car she mouthed through the windshield.
Having a mini protest before opening the car door you looking around at all the people. The bass could be felt when you were still seated in the car but now, music flowed through every limb of your body as you and Mina made your way inside.
“And to think we were going to miss out on- ooh he fine who is that?” locking eyes with a tall darkskin dreadhead. He smiled at her revealing his pearly whites, nodding.
“Ladies”
“Hey” you both replied. Well Mina more so purred. Seeing where this was going you ventured off.
You made your way to the kitchen. Looking at the array of liquor bottles set up. Deciding not to go with any liquor, you just settled for some juice. As you sipped from your cup, you looked over the rim, seeing none other than Aaron. He approached, stopping right in front of you.
“Look who decided to show up.”
You rolled your eyes, “Not in the mood”
“Knew you wanted to see me”
“Don’t flatter yourself. Mina forced me over here”
“Excuses, excuses”
“Aaron”
“You love sayin’ my name huh?”
“I barely like you existing”
He faked being hurt, putting a hand on his chest. “Dang baby, what I ever do to you?”
“Don’t play dumb”
“I’m for real”
“I am too” he smacked his teeth.
“We were kids Y/N.”
“That don’t make it any less disrespectful Aaron”
“I never even said anything though, that was mostly Michael and them.”
“You laughin’ was participation” he sighed a little.
“Y/N, I was a kid. Just followin’ the crowd man you know how it was”
“No I don’t, cause I never did no weird shit like that” he nodded slightly.
“You right you right. In all seriousness I didn’t realize I was hurtin’ your feelings and for that I am sorry.”
Looking off to the side and then back at him, you scanned his eyes and could honestly say you saw the sincerity in them. You sighed a little.
“You forgive me?” a small smirk on his face, he took a step forward. You avoided his gaze trying not to smile. “Ahh! see you playin””
“I’m not”
“Yes you are. You know you wanna be my friend.”
“Ew stop that”
“Go ahead and say it”
“Stoop Aaron, damn!” a hand going out to push his chest but he didn’t budge. “Irritatin’ me”
“Say it”
“You don’t give orders to me”
“This my shit baby. Way I see it, I can.”
Tilting your head, your eyebrows rose in surprise. “Real snippy for somebody who wants forgiveness”
He laughed, throwing his hands up in surrender.
Swirling the cup in your hand and sighing, “ I forgive you” you mumbled
“Damn it's loud in here! Say that again for me” his cupped his ear leaning close. A smile was evident on his face.
“I forgive you, dummy”
“Aww look at that, sounds like the start of a beautiful friendship”
“Yeah right. You owe me though”
“Owe you what?”
“I’ll let you know. Just get your pockets ready lightbright”
Shaking his head laughing. “Whatever it takes” he shrugged.
“uhuh” you studied his face. “What ever happened to your best friends anyway?”
“Got into some shit senior year and we ain’t been in contact since.” he wasn’t mentioning everything.
“Some shit like…?”
“Nosyyyy” he picked, leaning back a little. Your laugh filled his ears and caused him too as well.
From there you two flowed into a conversation. He was surprisingly funny and so much of a casual flirt, that you barely noticed it. The bass from the speakers had completely stopped and his space was starting to clear out. But none of that had really registered to the both of you. Mina was somewhere with that dreadhead. She made sure to find you and update you on her whereabouts before giving you and Aaron a look that only you caught.
“Aye man we bout to head out” a friend of his came, dapping him up. “We headin’ to Ray’s if you want to pull up.
“Aight Imma slide through”
“Baby!” an all too familiar voice rang in your ear over the music. You mentally groaned and sipped from your cup.
“Babe! You didn’t hear me calling you?” a chipper Ashley came to stand by Aaron. “Oh hi y/n, how are you?!?”
A closed mouth grin was all you could muster up. “Wassup?”
“I had the best time at tutoring. Babe, she is a genius! Like truly my saving grace” she rambled.
“Really?“ Aaron's attention is still on you.
“Yes! Ugghh tell him about…” and motormouth was off. Somehow Aaron was engaging but you couldn't bring yourself to actually listen to whatever she had to say.
“Like babe she is one of the nice ones I was telling you about!” that caught your attention. Aaron’s face contorting into one of confusion.
“Nice ones?” he mumbled to himself.
“Oh and I love your hair! This is yours right?” her hand reaching out to touch your curls and your neck craning to the side. The only thing that surprised you was not her question but Aaron's hand going to push hers away from your hair. Not trying to have her see you sweat, you put on a smile.
“What babe I wanted to feel it”
It?!?!
“Ashley you can’t be doing that” he looked at her as if she had lost her marbles.
“She knows I mean nothing by it Aaron no need to be all serious”
“Yes, this is my hair”
Ashley shrugged a little, “Yeah but like “I brought it” and it’s all mine or “I grew it myself” all mine?” looking over her face you noticed that same funny expression that all the little girls used to have when making fun of you in middle and high school. Seeing where this was headed, you looked back and forth from her to Aaron.
“Where you get off asking me some dumb shit like like that?” you stepped to her.
“I was just asking a question”
“No you were just being funny”
“Why are you getting so defensive?” feeling your body get hot. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath.
“You one ignorant bitch you know that?” Your finger pointed in the middle of her face. Another gasp left her mouth and she turned to look at Aaron. By now Mina and Quan, the dreadhead, had returned and could hear you and her. She walked around the island and made her way to your side.
“You cool y/n?”
“I'm straight. Bout to check this hoe temp though” your eyes never leaving Ashley's.
Gasping, she turned to look at Aaron. “Baby are you gonna let her talk to me like that?”
“This hoe…” mina said already over this. “She clearly not gone do shit”
“Fuck you, you ghetto hood rat! You don’t kn-” you lunged forward but was caught mid air and carried to the other side of the kitchen
“Let me the fuck go!” your screams traveled through the house. Mina was trapped behind the dreadhead trying to find a way to wriggle out of his grasp.
“Y/N you good bruh, Y/N Chilout!” Aaron held your waist trying to get you as far away from her as possible.
“You tried to hit me!” Ashley screamed, still stuck in her place in the kitchen.
“Bitch when I get my hands on you!” you shouted with Aaron carrying you down the hallway. You were trying to grab hold to every wall you could think of to keep from being pulled but it was no use.
“Ashley, take yo ass home!” Quan yelled. He had just caught Mina from jumping off the counter and was struggling to not keep her steady.
Aaron eventually got you into a room pushing you in and shutting the door. “Let me outta here Aaron! I’m not playin’ witcho ass!”
This went on for almost thirty more minutes and instead of being mad now all you could do was sit on the bed, arms crossed, and wait for somebody to let you out. You didn’t even bother to cut the light on. The screen saver on his Roku T.V kept the room illuminated. Quan had come to the door saying he had taken Mina to her car. She and you were on the phone talking when the room door finally opened and in walked the prison guard.
“You cool now?”
“Aaron don’t piss me off again, please” you ignored him getting back to your conversation.
“I already told her I would take you home. Y’all just getting each other mad all over again”
“Mina hold on” you hung up facing him. “Wassup wit you and her? You usually take in stray white girls off the side of the road? or you caught her attention.” he stifled a laugh coming to stand in front of you.
“What is ya’ll beef? You just got done tutorin’ the girl the other day.”
“It’s clear she’s threatened by me.”
“Why though?”
“Cause she think I wanna fuck you dummy.” a look of surprise graced his face.
“She said that?”
“Aaron, it's pretty obvious she does.” you looked at him irritated he would ask such a stupid question. “If I wanted to, I would’ve already had you.”
“Oh really?”
“Hell yeah”
A sharp breath left him as he studied you. Rubbing the back of his neck. “Okay bruh”
You tilted your head, "Wouldn't be that hard to do, really”
“What you tryna say?” He looked amused. You stood from your spot on the bed walking up to him. Due to your height, you were just about chest to chest with him.
“I’m saying it’s nothing to fuck you and send you back to your delusional ass girlfriend” your eyes scanned him from his eyes down to slightly below his belt. Going back up his body you could see his pulse pick up as you as the confidence leave his body a little. Truly, he was holding it together but your words were breaking his facade.
“You trippin Y/N”
“Am I though?” you moved closer. His reply was nothing.
“I mean you have yet to defend her and I don’t see you movin away” you started to trace a vein on his forearms moving up.
“S-she not my girl. I told you that already”
“Mm she don’t seem to think so.” your fingers touched the back of his neck but with no help from you, he had craned his head down to closer to yours. You could feel the coolness of his breath, looking into his eyes. “Now, tell me something” your tone soft and inquisitive and “What you doing keepin’ a bitch like her around?”
“Just a quick fuck” he mindlessly spoke, shrugging his shoulders.
“Really?” you stepped back, holding his hands. “So you wouldn’t mind helping me take these off?” moving his fingers to the buttons on your shorts. “Right?” a slight groan rumbled in his chest.
“Y/N” his eyes zeroed in on your bottoms.
“I can’t do it by myself baby help me, please?” the softness of your voice having him almost entrancing. With your fingers over his, you helped him to undo the button and zip the zipper down. Walking back until you felt the bed on the back of your knees, you sat down. He said nothing as he walked forward and stopped watching you look up at him through your lashes.
Reaching up and grabbing the collar of his shirt, you pulled him down to you.
“You makin’ this shit hard”
A light chuckled left you. “Well let me make it easy for us both.” pulling him down even more, he has no choice but to kneel. Aaron, being used to not being in control in the bedroom, was so confused how he was so turned on by the dynamic at the moment. Yet he obeyed, pulling down your shorts and panties.
As you spread your thighs to him he almost moaned. “Sexy ass” he whispered to himself before slowly dragging his tongue up and down your slit. His tongue circling around your clit pulling a gasp out of you. Your hand finds the back of his head, gently pulling him in deeper.
“auughh” a moan leaving you as you watched him work. His eyes closed as his mouth latched onto your clit and he softly suckled at the bundle of nerves. “Look at me” his eyes fluttered open but his tongue never ceased. Staring into your eyes his pace picked up slightly and the sounds of pussy eating and your moans filled the space of the room. “Shit just like that baby”
His underwear was starting to become uncomfortably tight with hearing your moans. He’d never heard anything so beautiful before. There was no doubt his precum had completely soaked through his underwear by now.
Watching your every reaction, paying attention to how your body jolted when his tongue found its way inside, or how you would grind hard and desperate when he would stick his tongue out for you to use. He groaned as you took off your top leaving you completely naked before him. Your titties sat perfectly as you played with your nipples head falling back.
You noticed, “You like em baby?”
He moaned, nodding his head still eating. Grabbing his hands you guided them to palm your boobs. He massaged them carefully, his hands barely able to grasp the entire mound. With light pressure his fingers played with your nipples.
“Yess just like that don’t stop” his eating even sloppier now. “Oooh my gawd, yes”
“Aaron I’m gonna cum” you almost whined. Your hands coming to the back of his head, chasing your release. “Don’t stop baby please!” his suction grew a little harder helping you chase your climax.
“Don’t stop baby don’tstop- I’m cumming ooou-” a sharp gasp followed by a long moan left you as it did Aaron too. His eyes closed as he finished just at the same time you did. Slurping up your slick from your pussy, he came up your body meeting you in a heated kiss.
“Mmm” you moaned into the kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue. Your tongues clashed with one another, greedily as the kiss grew more and more heated. Your hands went to undress him and he eagerly helped. Pulling away you looked down at his underwear noticing the wet stain on the front.
“Somebody got a little carried away” you teased.
Smacking his teeth he went for your neck leaving sloppy kisses, “chill out bruh- ssshit” you started to stroke him using his cum as lubricant.
“You fucked her raw?”
“F-fuck no ma” chuckling you planted a kiss to his ear. Guiding him in you both released a sigh. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you leaned into a slow yet needy kiss. Aaron started to move, finding the urge to not cum so quickly almost impossible.
“Shiit baby just like that..don’t stop aaron please..this dick feel so gooood oh my gaaw-ahhh” your talking made it no better. Your walls wet and hugging him so.
“Damn y/n..pussy so fucking good ma shit…could live in this shit baby” his forehead rested against yours. His hips grinding harder as his hands beside your head gripped the covers.
“Ooohh yess..right there” his pace picked up and your legs opened wider. Your hands held your ankles as you looked down between you two meeting. The sight making aaron groan. His buried in your neck. “You fuck this pussy so good baby” you moaned caressing his back. Nails digging into his back when he started hitting it at a different angle. Your lips finding his ear.
“I-” a moan left him and his thrusts started to lose rhythm.
“What baby?”
“I’m not gone l-last long”
“No?”
“S-shit”
“You gonna cum for me baby boy?” the name almost making him nut right then. “Say baby aoo-my goodness”
“Yeesss y/n shit”
“I want you to come on my pussy baby. Okay?”
“I hear you”
“You gonna make me cum baby” he kissed your cheek making his way to your mouth. He reached down, thumb finding your clit drawing circles to match his pace. Your head was thrown back into the bed as your orgasm tore through you.
“Look so fucking pretty coming on my dick ma” he grunted. Thrusting twice before he pulled out not even needing to stroke as his cum coated your folds.
Pushing him onto the bed you climbed on top of him. Rubbing his nut into your clit moaning. The site made him catch his bottom lip between his teeth. Grabbing his length, you ease down on him.
“You wet as hell y/n” he groaned, hands finding your hips.
“Just for you baby..uuh..just for you” picking up the pace, Aaron tried to hold in his moans. “You stretchin’ this pussy out so good”
“Don’t talk like t-that y/n..damn right there” he eyes closing and head falling back. Feeling you stop he looked confused. sitting up on his forearms he started to say something but it didn’t take for him to see you straddle his legs with your back to him. aww shit.
Easing him back inside, you began to bounce.
“Keep ridin’ this dick baby…don’t stop…good ass pussy..feels too fuckin’ good..work that shit baby” his mindless drabble making your head spin but you leaned forward arching your back more going a little faster. “Hell yeah y/n….just like that” his hand came down on your ass.
“Harder baby” you moaned. Earning you one smack after another and another.
Watching his dick disappear into your pussy over and over again was a sight. The clapping of your ass hypnotizing him. Your coils sticking to your back as he thrusted up into you, catching your rhythm. “s-shit so fuckin fat..c-creamin all on this dick ma..who makin you cream like this?”
“You”
“Who baby?” a concentrated wave of thrust started to push up into your spot, his hands moving you back onto him. Unable to say anything, your mouth wide open as you have no choice but to take it. “Tell me baby…hm?...who got yo shit this wet?”
“F-fuuuucckk you aaron uuughh”
“Been wantin’ yo sexy ass so mothafuckin’ long girl. Ain’t nobody getting this pussy but me..f-fuck..fuck allat otha shit”
“Aarroonn” your eyes tearing up as you tried to brace yourself.
“That’s right. you gone come on my dick again baby?”
“Yes!”
“Yeah? Show me mama. Gimme all that nut” and that you did. Except this time your arousal squirted onto his member. His hand reached forward and found your clit again.
“OOOhh my Gawwdd”
“Yess baby there you go..mhm..don’t stop..don’t you fuckin stop gimme all the shit baby come on…So fuckin good.” he cooed.
“Mmmm” you whined as he stroked you through it. He rubbed your back helping you come down from your high. You could feel him peppering kisses on your back. His member left you as he pulled you off and laid you beside him, pulling your back into his chest. You had begun to relax but the sound of a phone ringing interrupted the moment. Listening closely, it was clear it was not your phone. Reaching behind him on the night stand he sighed seeing the contact.
Looking back you see it was none other than Ashley. “Pick up” he looked at you like you were crazy but you had already reached up and pressed the green button, then the speaker when it connected.
“Hello? Babe?”
A smirk forming on your face hearing her voice.
“Ashley, what you callin me for?” he sighed.
“Baby, I just wanted to apologise for earlier cause I know those girls won’t. That was so uncalled for! I know how you don’t like drama in your space.” oh she wanna…okay.
“Ash you can’t put all of the blame on t-them” he stuttered feeling you reach back and stroke him before guiding him into you. Leaning forward some, you started moving. Your walls swallowed his dick again in what felt like a vice grip from this position. “C-chill” whispered.
“But it so was! You saw how defensive she got over nothing?!” you started throwing it harder. You moaned purposefully for her to hear. “What was that?”
Reaching for the phone you threw it above your heads, and moved Aaron’s take hold to your waist. “S-shit nothing” you were about to laugh but a hand came up to your jaw forcing your head back “ole nasty ass” his mouth coming to your ear. Your wetness and the sound of you two connecting were audible now.
“A-aron are you watching porn or something” you guided the hand on your hip to your boobs making him grope them. He didn’t need much help, your nipples getting trapped between his thumb and forefinger. You slowed down reaching the tip of his dick before slamming back down.
“Get that shit” he mumbled in your ear.
“You feel so good daddy” you moaned out loud. The name and the sensation of you rolling from his top on down making his eyes roll back.
“Are you fucking kidding me right now Aaron?!”
“You gone make a nigga nut y/n..gone make me..oouu shit” his mouth finding your neck. He still held a firm grip on your jaw making your back arch even more. “So fuckin’ nasty ma”
“Mhm baby”
“Are you fucking her right now?!? Oh my God!” Aaron was too lost in your pussy to care about the phone.
“You want daddy to nut in this pussy, don’t you baby?..hm?”
“S-shit yes nut in me pleeeaassee” you threw it back harder.
“Aaron! I swear to God”
“You fuckin this dick so good mama..keep fuckin me baby..Just like that..I’m bout to nut..sssshhhiiittttt” his body stilled as you pulled his nut out of him. Your fourth one ripping through you as well. Hitting so hard, your loud moan ended in a sharp gasp. The heavy breathing between you two loud but the three beeps from Ashley hanging up.
“Damn we in some shit” he laughed a little, catching his breath.
“I don’t care” your voice coming out hoarse making you and him look at each other. You hit his chest as he laughed. “Shut up!”
“Man come on” he got up from the bed. Guiding you to him, he picked you up and walked to the ensuite bathroom. Your head laid on his shoulder, lids heavy until he put you on the cold toilet. You groaned and pouted while he turned on the shower.
“Girl you better pee and stop playin”
“It's so cold though” you whined while peeing. “Can you get out? I need to wipe” you looked at him.
Smacking his teeth, “if you don’t getcho ass up so we can get in the shower.”
You had hit up your favorite plug, Ony. You were in need of some more weed and you just wanted to see him.
There had always been tension between the two of you. He would always flirt and you would entertain him. Y’all chilled together often, a few of those times leading to you and him in the back of his car locking lips. You weren’t really sure what your relationship with him was, but you knew he would come through any time you called. You were special like that.
Sitting in your mirror, you were touching up your hair when you got his text that he was outside. You slid on some slides and made your way to your front door to let him in. He was standing there and he looked good like he always did, crisp white tee that hugged his arms just right, low sitting gray sweats that allowed you to see his calvin klein waistband. He towered over you and you loved it.
He spread his arms waiting for you to appear in them. You gave him a hug, his arms wrapping around your waist as he put his face in your neck. “ ‘missed you mama. you look good, smell real nice.” Your voice was soft, “ i missed you too.” After embracing for a while, the two of you separated and he came inside. Ony loved coming to visit you, the pretty girl who he loved to smoke with. He wished that yall could figure out what y’all were doing, he liked you and it was clear you liked him. You were the only person who could get anything you wanted from him even if you didn’t know it. Even though it wasn’t in his plans, he was gon figure it out tonight.
He walked in behind you, eyes racking up and down your body. He bit his lip as he wished you would officially be his girl. You walked into the kitchen, Ony following close behind you. “You want something to eat or drink ‘fore we smoke?” you turned to face him, looking up at his face. His hands ghosted over your waist before finally settling there. “nah i got somethin’ to eat right here in front of me.” You quickly looked away from him, avoiding his eyes. Eye contact with Ony was always dangerous, it always led to him somehow ending up deep inside you and in your bed. You lightly smacked his chest “boy move around.” He let out a deep laugh that made your stomach flip.
“im being for’real but you keep playing wit’ me.” His thumbs rubbed slow circles into your hips as he looked at you. Your hands landed on his forearms, looking up at him “Ony go roll the damn blunt and stop tryna get in my pants.”
30 minutes later, the two of you are passing a beautifully rolled blunt back and forth. a mix of bryson tiller, party, and more are playing lowly in the background. y’all had been talking the whole time like usual. you had your legs in his lap, his hand rubbing slowly up your leg. it was a comfortable silence in the air as he enjoyed your company.
“So what you been up to mama?” Ony asked you as he leaned back on your couch. “not much, you know me, school and home.” you replied looking over at him. “what about you?” you reached over grabbing his hand, playing with his fingers. “same old, same old. living life. you need to stop being cooped up in the house.” he looked over at you, giving you a quick up and down. “boy boo, what is there for me to do? im not tryna be out all the time.” you said with a little laugh.
“you know you can always come wit’ me.” he said, giving you a smirk. you side eyed him, not trying to smile, “and why would i do that?”
he glanced over, admiring you. “what’re you looking at me for?” you asked with a giggle. he raised an eyebrow with a small smile on his face. “what? i cant look at you now?”
the two of you were just sitting there looking at each other for what felt like forever but was most likely a few seconds. “c’mere mama.” and before you could even react, he was pulling you closer to him. you were now basically sitting in his lap. “what was that for?” you questioned.
He gave you a shrug, “wanted you closer to me, s’all.” he looked down at you. You turned your head trying to not let him see you smile but that was stopped when you felt his hand under your chin. he turned your head back towards him. you felt the energy in the room shift as he looked at you. your hands slowly snaked up his chest to rest behind his neck before you pulled him down into a slow, deep kiss.
The kiss was slow yet tense, yall hadn’t seen each other in weeks, you had subconsciously missed him. His hands came up your thighs, gripping your hips trying to control himself. Your hands wrapped around his neck, fingers caressing the back of his head.
He grabbed your ankle, pulling you on top of him. The two of you pulled away from the kiss breathing heavy. Your hands had landed on his chest and his had found their place back on your hips. “ony… im not tryna keep doing this. i don’t even know whether you fucking wit’ other bitches.” you crossed your arms, looking him dead in his eyes. “mama you know me, you the only girl im fucking wit. i don’t even move like that. i been tryna get you to be my girl, you ain’t notice?” your facade slowly cracked under the surface. The sincerity in his deep voice, the look in his eyes, just him as a person. “i noticed. i always thought you were just a sweet talker so i tried not to fall for it.” “a sweet talker? ion even talk to people like that, you the main person i talk to other than the guys. i just want you to take me serious.” his hands ran up and down your thighs, his eyes never leaving your face.
There was a small silence between the two of you, the words said hanging in the air.
“let me show you how serious i am mama.”
less than 10 mins later you were sprawled out in your bed, clothes discarded throughout your room, ony’s shirt tossed somewhere. he was in between your legs, making you see stars. his tongue making slow circles around your clit as two of his fingers curled inside of you. “o-ony.. fuck.” you whined out. he looked up at you, eyes low as his mouth stayed attached to you. he let out a deep hum, vibrating through your body. “come on mama stop movin’. “
he continued his assault on your clit, his actions speeding up as he felt you squeeze him. your body froze as your back arched off the bed. “oh my- fuckkk” your hands flew to try and push Ony off of you. he reached up and intertwined your hands with his. after a few more seconds he came up, the bottom of his face covered with your fluids. you were breathing heavily, legs sprawled out.
“you good? we just getting started.”
one of your legs were folded to your chest, the other as he lined himself up. he slowly slid in feeding you inch after inch. your hands were on his biceps, nails digging in. “shittt there you go let me in baby.” when he finally bottomed out inside you, you swore you could see a bulge at the bottom of your stomach. he slowly pull back a little before sliding right back into you. you let out a whine and that only encouraged him to start moving. he was feeding you nice, even strokes. you were whining out his name, hands gripping any part of him that you could. “onyyyy baby faster please.” you begged him. “i gotchu pretty.”
your other leg was folded to your chest right before he started drilling you at an insane pace. it was like he knocked the wind out of your lungs. all that could be heard throughout the room was the sound of skin slapping together, ony’s deep voice, and your moans and whines. he was fucking you so good you couldn’t even get a word out. “you still think i’m playin wit you?” all you could do was let out a broken moan in response. “n-no!” ony’s eyes took in the whole image of you. big, watery eyes looking up at him like he was the only thing in the world, lips swollen from kissing, the hickeys on your neck he had purposely placed to claim you and then his eyes flicked down. looking at where the two of you were connected, your pussy swallowing up his dick, the wet sounds it made as he went in and out of you. he couldn’t get enough, there was no way he was finna come up off of you now. you were his girl no matter what.
just when you thought his pace couldn’t get any faster, it did. his hands moved from holding up your legs to your hips and he started jack rabbiting you. “oh-oh- my godddd ony don’t stop please”
your moans were like music to his ears and he had no intention to stop listening. he quickly flipped you over onto your stomach before slipping back in. he pressed his hand into your back, forcing you to hold your arch. “hold it just like that for me mhm, so fuckin’ pretty.” he couldn’t resist you, no matter how hard he tried. he was fucking the shit outta you, you were dick dumb at this point. “you my girl? you not going nowhere right?” he asked you, slightly slowing down the pace. “y-yes ony! im your girl!” your hand reached back, trying to slow him down but that did nothin as he grabbed it. intertwining your fingers with his once more as he held it to your back.
“you not going nowhere mama, you mine.”
you couldn’t hold on much longer, your body was about to snap. “shitt im finna cum, ony fuck!” he kept fucking you at that pace, hitting that specific spot till the both of you came at the same time. “yeaa let me have it mama, let it out.”
you slumped forward as ony fell beside you. he pulled you into his arms, holding you against his chest, pressing kisses to your forehead. “you know i meant everything i said right?” he asked you, wanting confirmation that it wasn’t just in the moment for you. “ony are you being serious wit me? you really want me to be your girl?” you replied back, looking up at him sleepily. “mama how much more serious i gotta be? i want you to be my girl for real.”
“then yes.” you said laying your head back into his chest. “imma take you on a real nice date tomorrow i promise. now sleep pretty.” he placed one final kiss on your lips before drifting off to sleep with a smile on his face.
𓊆ྀི warnings .ᐟ + word count— 9.3K, original!blackfemreader, boyfriend!onyankopon, plug!onyankopon, fresh out the pen!onyankopon, southerncoded!onyankopon, femreader, shy!femreader, giggly!femreader, aggressive!onyankopon, sweet!onyankopon, dominant!onyankopon, car sex, doggy style, missionary, pet names, dirty talk, aggressive pet names, squirting, creaming, condomless sex, pussy eating, dick sucking, overstimulation, minors are not welcome! 𓊇ྀི
メモ。— inspired by the destiny’s child song. i just live for a wattpad hood love story, so here’s mine. love y’all.
YOU HADN’T BEEN THIS NERVOUS IN A WHILE. You wanted to gnaw at your heart shaped pendant sunken between heavy tits, deep plum gloss outlining your full lips that you’d chewed to a swell just minutes before. This moment didn’t feel real—and yet, it was. He was coming home.
Thick Louisiana heat presses against your skin like a lover’s embrace, sprawled across the king sized bed in the heart of the 7th Ward—a place where shotgun houses and Creole cottages line the streets like old friends. The walls of your shared home hum with memories, the scent of cayenne and slow cooked roux lingering in the air from last night’s gumbo. The bedroom is a sanctuary—mahogany furniture polished to a shine, silk sheets the color of midnight draped over the mattress, and gold framed photos of y’all’s happiest moments catching the dim glow of the sunset through half closed blinds.
But something’s missing.
You bury your face into his pillow, inhaling deeply—or trying to. His scent, that intoxicating mix of sandalwood and blunt smoke, has faded to a ghost of what it once was. Three months without him sleeping beside you, without his deep voice grumbling nonsense in your ear as he pulls you closer. The emptiness is heavy.
Your massive pitbull, Bear, stretches across the bed like a living shadow, his muscular frame pressed against your thigh as if sensing your longing.
You run your fingers through his coarse fur, murmuring, “You ready for Papa to come home?”
Bear’s ears twitch at the mention of him, dark eyes flickering with something like understanding. Even the house feels quieter without his presence—no bass rattling the windows, no deep laugh shaking the walls, no rough hands tugging you into his lap just because.
Onyankopon.
Deep brown skin kissed by the Louisiana sun, glowing like polished syrup under the streetlights. His cornrows are always fresh, laid to perfection, trailing down to the nape of his neck with a crisp lineup sharp enough to cut glass. That mouth of his—shiny grills flashing when he smirks, a warning disguised as charm. His beard-goatee combo is always kept tight, framing full lips that can curse a man into the ground or praise you so sweetly it makes your knees weak.
And his body. Lord. Broad shoulders, thick arms wrapped in ink—every tattoo telling a story. The fleur-de-lis stamped near his left temple, a silent declaration of loyalty to the soil that raised him. More Louisiana love etched into his skin— oak trees, 504 in bold script. His knuckles say NO LOVE, but you know better—know the way those same hands cradle your face like you’re the air he breathes.
You’ve seen him in business mode. Jaw clenched, voice dropping to something low and lethal, a Glock tucked in the back of his waistband like a second shadow. He didn’t play—not when it came to money, not when it came to respect.
But you know the truth.
That same man who’ll put a bullet in somebody’s kneecaps over disrespect is the one slipping Mrs.LeBlanc a stack of bills every month so her lights stay on—the one who refuses to sell to fiends nodding out on the corner. The one who bought the whole block Thanksgiving turkeys last year just because.
A good man with rough edges. Yours.
Your heart aches with the knowing—the kind that lives in the quiet spaces between his laughter and the way his eyes get distant sometimes, staring out at the horizon like he’s searching for something just out of reach.
You’ve seen the flicker in his gaze when y’all pass a college campus, when he watches old men playing chess in the park with no worries weighing them down. You know he dreams of something else—legitimate money, a life where he doesn’t have to look over his shoulder every five seconds. But survival mode is a beast he can’t shake, not when the streets raised him harsher than any parent ever did.
Your mind flashes back to that night—the night.
The way his face twisted in fury as the cops swarmed, their boots kicking up gravel as they yanked his arms behind his back too rough, too eager. You remember screaming his name, lunging forward only for his voice to cut through the chaos like a blade—Go back in the fuckin’ house!—and the way your legs shook as you obeyed, tears blurring your vision until all you saw were flashing red and blue lights swallowing him whole.
Three months.
Three months of letters tucked into envelopes smelling like your perfume, of collect calls where his voice was gruff but his words were soft—“How you holdin’ up, baby?"
Three months of praying the charges wouldn’t stick, of begging your parents to understand why you couldn’t—wouldn’t—walk away.
You think God would approve of this, child? Running with a man who feeds poison to his own people?
Their words stung, but not as much as the truth burning in your chest—you loved him anyway. Loved him when he came home smelling like gunpowder and regret, loved him when he held you so tight it felt like an apology.
But still, there’s a part of you that dreams too—of lazy Sunday mornings without fear, of a future where his hands are stained with paint instead of blood. A future where he chooses differently.
You sigh, pressing your face into Bear’s fur as if he can absorb the weight of your thoughts.
Soon.
Your dark curls lay across the pillow like spilled ink as you sink deeper into Bear’s warmth, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest beneath your fingertips lulling you into a false sense of calm.
Then—movement.
Bear tenses beneath you, his massive body going rigid before he suddenly hikes up with a deep, rumbling growl—not the dangerous kind, but the kind that vibrates with recognition. In an instant, he’s off the bed, paws thudding against hardwood as he bolts toward the living room.
Then—the creak of the front door.
You left it unlocked. You knew.
Before you can even sit up fully, you hear Bear’s excited whines, the frantic scratch of his claws against the floor as he launches himself at someone—at him. Your pulse thunders in your ears as you swing your legs over the edge of the bed, bare feet hitting the floor before you even realize you’re moving.
And there he is.
Standing in the doorway like a storm, shoulders bigger than you remember, muscles straining against the thin fabric of his white muscle tee like he outgrew it in just three months. His sweatpants hang low on his hips, the same pair he’d left in before they took him, but now they cling to thighs that look harder, more defined.
His cornrows are freshly done, edges sharp enough to draw blood, that damn fleur-de-lis tattoo peeking out from beneath the slant of his brow. But it’s his eyes that grip you—dark, calculating, hungry—as they rake over you like he’s memorizing every inch.
“The fuck you leave the door unlocked for?”
Your lips part—but the second his voice hits you, really hits you, something inside cracks wide open.
“…I—I knew it was you,” you whimper, voice trembling like a leaf in the wind.
Onyankopon knows you.
‘Knows the way your bottom lip trembles right before the tears fall. ‘Knows how your voice gets small and shaky when you’re trying—and failing—to hold it together. ‘Knows that no matter how spicy your mouth gets, that tender heart of yours spills over first.
And right now?
His dark eyes drink you in all of you.
Your caramel skin glows under the dim lights, bare except for the tiniest rebellion inked along your ribs—his name, etched in delicate script, hidden beneath the swell of your tits like a secret only he’s allowed to touch.
Those freckles—god, those freckles—dusting your cheeks and the bridge of your nose like constellations. Your round face flushed, slender eyes shimmering with tears, long dark curls tumbling wildly over your shoulders as you try to hide the way your body shakes.
Hips fuller, ass heavier, waist somehow even smaller than he remembered, all wrapped up in that deep plum babydoll dress that barely covers your thighs. His gaze drags lower—no bra, just the thin lace of your panties peeking beneath the hem, your brown nipples stiff and visible through the fabric.
And then—
“You left me.”
Your tits bounce heavily as you hiccup, hands flying up to cover your face in that adorably flustered way you do when you’re overwhelmed.
“Aight, Mama—lemme’ hold you," he murmurs, voice thick with that gravelly warmth that usually melts you right where you stand. But not today.
You shake your head hard, curls whipping against your cheeks, suddenly furious—at him, at the streets, at the damn system that keeps snatching him away from you.
“No," you snap, voice wobbling despite yourself.
This is your routine.
The one where you unleash every pent up ache—where you sob about how Mrs. LeBlanc asked about him at the store last Tuesday, how you burned the first pot of gumbo because he wasn’t there to taste test it, how Bear whined at the door every night for a week after they took him.
“You missed—you missed everything—"
Onyankopon exhales through his nose, patience wearing thin. He reaches for you again, fingers brushing your waist, but you smack his hand away—or try to. Your tiny slap barely fazes him, and the way his jaw tightens tells you his sympathy’s run out.
One large hand fists into the back of your dress, yanking you against him so hard your breath whooshes out of you. His other arm bands around your waist, locking you in place as your tits press flush against his chest.
“Ony—!"
“Nah," he growls, “You done?"
And just like that—you crack.
Your fingers claw into his shirt as you bury your face into his neck, inhaling that familiar scent—jailhouse soap, and him. A choked sob escapes you as he grunts, adjusting his grip to cradle you tighter.
“Yeah," he mutters, lips brushing your temple—“That’s what I thought.”
His nose drags along the curve of your neck—inhaling deep—like he’s trying to drown himself in you. Vanilla. Spiced cinnamon. Caramel. Your scent clings to his senses, and a rough groan vibrates against your skin before he cups your face in his big, calloused hands.
Then—his mouth crashes into yours.
Not soft. Not sweet.
Claiming.
His tongue strokes against yours, hot and demanding, before he sucks your bottom lip between his teeth—sharp, just how you like it. The sound of his grunts fills the space between kisses—“Goddamn, you smell so good—” his palm smacks against your ass with a sharp CLAP!, making the flesh quiver beneath his grip as he kneads it possessively.
“Why you doin’ allat’, huh?” His voice is gruff but softer now, forehead pressed to yours—“A nigga was gon’ find his way back to you.”
“Your lawyer said…” your voice cracks, fingers tightening in his shirt—“‘Said they coulda’ gave you more time…”
His jaw ticks—once, twice—before he exhales hard through his nose.
“Look at me.”
When you do, his eyes burn with something fierce.
“Ain’t no cage gon’ keep me from you.”
And just like that—his mouth is on yours again, swallowing your whimpers, his grip tightening like he’s determined to erase every second of those three months apart.
Your whimper melts into something hotter, needier—tongue sliding bold and filthy against his, dragging slowly before plunging back in, tasting the mint on his breath mixed with something darker, smokier. Onyankopon growls against your lips, tongue stroking yours with a rhythm that makes your thighs clench.
“Greedy ass," he rumbles, voice thick with amusement—"Threw that lil’ tongue at me like you ain’t just been cryin’."
“‘Want you, Papa…" you pant this, rocking your hips against the hard ridge of him, shameless.
His hands tighten on your face—rough but reverent—as he pulls back just enough to lock eyes with you, his gaze burning through you.
“Three months, baby. Three months ‘I been dreamin’ ‘bout my pussy," he grits out—“But nah, we gon’ do this right."
Your brows knit—confused, frustrated—until his thumb swipes over your bottom lip, smug as hell.
“A nigga got a whole garden in the Hummer for you," he admits lowly, "Tulips, roses, shit you like—whole backseat covered."
That freckled smile of yours spreads slowly across your face, until you realize something.
“Wait—you got your car back?"
His smirk doesn’t falter, but something shifts behind his gaze—hooded, calculated.
“Handled it."
You blink once. Twice. Then deadpan, “I won’t even ask."
“You already knowin’," he chuckles, swiping his thumb over your bottom lip one last time like he’s erasing the question altogether.
“Go ‘head, start gettin’ yo’self pretty. Imma’ run some plays by these niggas, handle some business ‘fore we head out."
Your stomach knots. Already?
Three months gone, and the streets demand his presence before the sheets even lose your warmth. You bite your protest back regardless, swallowing it down with a soft “Okay," that barely fills the space between you.
Onyankopon studies you for half a breath—like he sees it, the tension in your jaw—before gruffly adding, “Aight? I’m happy to be home."
And just like that he’s turning away, crouching to ruffle Bear’s ears as the dog practically vibrates with joy. You watch them—the way his tattooed hands roughhouse with the beast who missed him just as much as you did—and exhale.
“Yeah," you murmur, touching the heart pendant at your throat.
“…Me too."
The afternoon light slants through sheer curtains as the scene shifts to another familiar rhythm—Onyankopon planted on the bedroom bench like a king holding court. His muscular thighs spread wide, fresh out of the shower but already dressed in that effortless urban elegance—crisp black tee straining across his chest, black Amiri cargos, icy AP watch glinting at his wrist. Cuban links drip down his neck as he barks into his phone, voice sandpaper rough—“Nah, that product ‘move different now. ‘Tell them lil’ niggas to tighten up or get got."
Meanwhile, you exist in your own world mere feet away—naked as the day you were born, lost in the ritual of getting ready.
Your reflection in the vanity mirror is sinful—that waist cutting in like an hourglass before flaring out into heavy hips and that ass he can’t stop smacking. Oversized tits sway as you lean forward to dab blush over freckled cheeks, brown nipples stiff from the breeze drifting through the window. Between your thighs—pretty pink folds glistening with arousal, still tender from the thought of him earlier.
You’re so engrossed in blending highlighter along your collarbones that you don’t notice his approach—until thick fingers suddenly part you from behind.
“Papa—!”
Your giggle bubbles up as his calloused thumb swipes through slick heat, inspecting you with a low hum of approval.
"Fuck you laughin’ for?" he grunts, still half distracted by his phone conversation—“‘Just checkin’ my property."
The juxtaposition is ridiculous—him murmuring “Two keys max,” into the receiver while his other hand teases your clit—until you slap his wrist away, cheeks burning.
"Stop it!”
“‘You the one bent over lookin’ like dessert."
Sigh. Business and pleasure, always intertwined.
Now fully dressed, you feel every bit the masterpiece you’ve crafted—your curls styled in a voluminous flip over cascading like spilled ink down your back. Dark, feathery lashes make your almond shaped eyes look bigger, doe like, while deep brown lips—blended with a hint of plum—give your mouth a sultry, kissable pout.
The outfit is pure temptation—tall, strappy heels that add inches to your shorter frame, black capris clinging to every curve of your full hips and round ass like they were painted on. The lace trimmed camisole is sinful, its sweetheart neckline framing the swell of your breasts, the sheer fabric teasing glimpses of skin beneath. Your small Coach purse twinkles with playful keychains dangling from it, a hint of softness against the fierce femininity of your look.
You do a slow, deliberate spin for him—hips swaying, lashes fluttering—before rolling your eyes dramatically when he barely glances up, his big hand absently rubbing the side of your hip as he continues growling into the phone, “Nah, lil’ bruh, that’s not how we move.”
Frustration flickers.
With a huff, you drop onto his lap without warning, your weight forcing his thighs to adjust beneath you. His free arm instinctively wraps around your waist as you play with the coarse strands of his beard, your fingers tracing the sharp line of his jaw while he keeps talking.
You murmur against his ear, “I got all pretty for you, y’know.”
“Aight, Imma’ see you in twenty.”
You blink.
“Twenty minutes? Where?"
“Across the Westbank," he replies smoothly, fingers trailing up the curve of your thigh where the capris hug tightest—“‘Told you I had business to handle."
Your arms cross over your chest, “This was supposed to be our time."
“Youn’ think I know that? I got shit to do."
“Yeah, ‘cause a drug dealer has way less free time than the average working man."
The words hang in the air—sharp, but edged with truth. His brows lift, a silent challenge, and you bite your lip before melting back against him with a soft “Sorry…”
Your voice dropped to a whisper, “I just want you to myself today."
Onyankopon exhales through his nose, the tension in his shoulders loosening as his hands slide up your back.
“You got me," he murmurs, lips brushing the slope of your bare shoulder.
“But I got a whole neighborhood to take care of—including buyin’ everythin’ yo’ greedy lil’ ass wanna see under the sun."
His mouth trails up your neck, each kiss a quiet apology, a silent promise. You sigh, tilting your head to give him more access, your resolve crumbling beneath his touch.
“Fine," you concede, “But hurry, please?”
“Ain’t gon’ be long enough for you to miss me."
And just like that, he had you under his spell.
The first time you rode shotgun on one of his business runs, your pulse had thrummed with something illicit—the thrill of danger, the heat of rebellion licking at your skin like a forbidden flame. Back then, watching him command respect with just the tilt of his chin felt electric, his dominance a live wire beneath your fingertips.
Now?
Now you slump in the passenger seat of his freshly detailed Hummer, fingers drumming against the leather as you stare determinedly out the window. His employees—lean, hungry looking young men with eyes too old for their faces—nod at you with careful respect, like you’re some kind of queen they’re afraid to glance at too long. You offer weak smiles in return, teeth digging into your plum stained bottom lip.
Onyankopon moves like a storm—methodical, unhurried—handing off product wrapped in crisp bills, exchanging terse words with buyers who swear they can handle weight they clearly can’t. Every so often his palm lands heavy on your thigh—reassuring, possessive—but your skin feels too tight today.
Your gaze flicks to the Glock tucked between his seat and the console, the .45 holstered at his ankle, the AR barely hidden beneath the flower blankets in the back. The arsenal used to make you feel safe. Now it just makes your stomach twist.
“Can we go?"
He pauses mid sentence, dark eyes cutting to you—reading the tension in your jaw, the way your fingers twist the rings on your hands.
“Five minutes," he grunts.
Onyankopon’s jaw ticks as he leans out the driver’s side window, his deep voice dropping to a lethal calm—
“Nigga, you movin’ like you want problems.”
The young boy couldn’t be older than nineteen—puffs his chest out, fingers twitching near his waistband like he’s itching to prove something.
“I ain’t scared—”
“That’s yo’ first fuckin’ problem.”
Before the kid can retort, Onyankopon shoves the car door open and steps out, looming over him like a shadow. Even from the passenger seat, you can see the moment the boy realizes his mistake—how his shoulders tense, how his eyes dart sideways for backup that ain’t coming.
“You gon’ get smoked actin’ like this,” Onyankopon growls, jabbing a finger into the boy’s chest—“Get yo’ shit together ‘fore I help you.”
“Aight, Onyo’. Damn. My bad—”
“Get the fuck on.”
He dismisses him before sliding back into the driver’s seat, his energy crackling like live wire. You don’t say a word—just shift in your seat, crossing your legs tight, lips pressed together.
The engine roars as he peels off, tires biting pavement. At the first red light, his hand cups the back of your neck, dragging you into a kiss so filthy your toes curl in your heels.
“Good girl,” he murmurs against your lips, “Appreciate you holdin’ me down.”
You nod, still quiet, but your fingers tighten on his wrist—Where are we going?
“Yo’ lil’ candy ass arcade on Canal.”
Your frown melts instantly—the one with the vintage Pac-Man machine and strawberry mochi. A grin tugs at your lips despite yourself.
“…’Kay.”
Once again? Under his spell.
The neon glow of Canal Street buzzed around you as you stepped into the old-timey arcade, its retro facade hiding a freshly renovated interior that smelled faintly of buttered popcorn and digital nostalgia. The weekend crowd pulsed around you—laughing teenagers, couples locked in competitive banter, families chasing kids hyped up on sugar—all seeking the same escape from reality. Your fingers tightened around Onyankopon’s large hand as you tugged him inside, watching his sharp gaze flick over the space—new LED lights where flickering fluorescents once hung, sleek game consoles replacing the creaky ones he remembered.
“Ain’t been gone that long,” he muttered, but there was no real irritation in it, just the low rumble of a man recalibrating.
“Three months can feel like a sentence, Papa.”
He thinks on your words for a moment.
“‘C’mon, then. I’m tryna put ‘belt to ass in Mortal Kombat.”
“In your dreams!”
You darted away with a giggle, weaving through the crowd as his deep chuckle chased you. The sound was rare enough to make your chest ache—he was letting his guard down.
And when he did?
It was like the sun breaking through a storm.
At the game station, he was ferocious—button mashing with the precision of a man who took everything seriously, even play. His victorious howls shook your ribs where you stood pressed against him, his arm slung around your waist as he crowed about flawless victories. But then—your turn. His competitive edge melted into something softer, his hands guiding yours over the controls when you pouted about losing.
“Like this, mama—time it right.”
It was a quiet parallel to his life—his instinct to protect, to guide, even in something as trivial as a game.
Later at a secluded lounge area tucked in the back of the arcade, you both shared strawberry mochi and sweet wine. The other couples around you laughed easily—holding hands, stealing kisses without glancing over their shoulders first. Your fingers traced the rim of your glass as the thought settled heavy—Did they have regular lives? Were they happier?
Onyankopon’s voice cut through the haze.
“You been thinkin’ on somethin’ since we left the house."
His voice is low, steady—a statement, not a question.
“Hm?”
“Hm?” he repeats, “Yeah, you."
You swirl the sweet wine in your glass, avoiding his gaze for just a beat too long before answering, “I’m just happy to have you home."
He leans back in his chair, arms folding across his broad chest.
“‘You want me to believe that?”
“That’s what I’m telling you.”
A beat passes. Then another. His expression doesn’t change—just that same quiet intensity, like he’s reading every flicker of hesitation in your body language.
He stands, the chair scraping against the floor.
“We gon’ talk over dinner," he confirms, “It’s aight."
And just like that, the conversation is postponed—but not forgotten. You exhale softly, nodding as you rise to grab his hand, the unspoken weight of your thoughts lingering between you like an extra shadow.
The restaurant hums with the soul of New Orleans—exposed brick walls draped in vintage jazz posters, flickering candlelight glinting off brass fixtures, the rich scent of gumbo and buttery cornbread hanging thick in the air. Live piano notes drift from the corner, smooth and lazy like the Mississippi at dusk.
You sit across from him, legs crossed just so, your lace camisole dipping to frame the heavy swell of your breasts. Small dimples flash as you press your lips together, watching him watch you with that quiet, unnerving focus of his—like he’s peeling back every layer you’ve carefully stacked since this morning.
“Thank you for bringing me here,” you murmur, fingers tracing the rim of your water glass.
His response is a low rumble—“Ain’t gotta thank me for doin’ shit a nigga supposed to do."
Silence stretches between you. You know that look—chin tilted down, thick brows slightly furrowed—he’s turning something over in his mind.
Then, out of nowhere—“How yo’ mama doin’?"
You smile, soft and genuine.
“Still prayin’ for you."
His lips quirk—“‘Wouldn’t want it any other way. She give a nigga ‘travelin’ grace."
You tug a curl behind your ear, exhaling softly.
“Well…" You reach for your purse, heart skipping—“I got you somethin’."
Your fingers tremble slightly as you pull out the blue velvet box—small, unassuming, but holding all the hope you've tucked away.
His lips quirk before he even opens it, that deep voice laced with mischief—“Lemme’ guess—is it you, butt ass naked on top of a second Hummer? ‘Cause I was already plannin’ on makin’ that happen."
You roll your eyes, “No, boy."
He flips the lid open, thick fingers pausing as he pulls out the sleek, leather bound planner—matte black with silver detailing, masculine but refined. The attached pen glints under the soft restaurant lighting.
“i got you a planner!" you squeak, suddenly nervous.
His brow arches, thumb tracing the edge of the booklet before he meets your eyes—“That’s sweet, baby. But why?"
You fidget, twisting a curl around your finger—“Well…I thought maybe it could be a new bonding experience for us?"
Your voice is softer now—"You know…we could journal on Sundays during online sermons, make grocery lists, plan things together…"
Your next words come out in a rush—“I thought…maybe even show your parole officer that you do want more in life, you know?"
The air between you shifts.
His expression hardens, “Youn’ think I want more in life?"
"I didn’t mean it like that, I just—"
“So what you sayin’?"
His voice is calm, but there’s an edge beneath it—the kind that makes your pulse stutter. You swallow, choosing your next words carefully.
"I just…want you to try something new, On’."
Your gaze lifts, meeting his—“There are these moments where you talk about your future—goin’ to trade school, gettin’ off the streets, somethin’…practical. You’re just too smart for that to go to waste."
A beat passes. Then his lips curl—not quite a smile—“You think bein’ pragmatic gon’ pay the bills?"
"Ony—"
“Niggas out here with degrees still hustlin’ backwards. You think a planner gon’ change the fact that this city don’t give a fuck about no trade school paperwork?"
His voice drops low, gravel rough with conviction—“I got half a fuckin’ city to feed, ion’ do this shit ‘cause I like tellin’ niggas what to do. The side of town we stay on? You still there ‘cause you refuse to leave yo’ family, and I respect that."
His jaw flexes, thumb brushing over the planner still in his hand—“But I should get the same in return."
He’s right. He’s always talked about putting you up somewhere better—somewhere with gates and quiet streets, or even leaving New Orleans altogether—but he’s never pushed you. Never made you choose when you never agreed to that.
And now here you are, handing him a planner like it’s an ultimatum, like paper could fix the jagged edges of the life he’s built.
You blink hard, swallowing the lump forming—“I’m sorry…”
Fingers trembling, you reach to take the planner back, but his hand closes gently over yours before you can.
“Don’t do allat’," he murmurs, voice softer now. The planner stays in his grip—not rejected, not dismissed—just held.
“‘This the shit that’s been weighin’ on yo’ heart all day?”
The question hangs between you, raw and exposed.
“…I talked to your parole officer,” you admit, voice barely above a whisper—““Before your release.”
His jaw clenches, but he doesn’t interrupt.
“He said if you get caught again…it’s twenty-five to life, Onyankopon. No parole.”
A single tear escapes before you can stop it, sliding hot down your cheek. You swipe at it fast, but the damage is done—your face is warm, your lips trembling as you whisper, “I can’t lose you again.”
“I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”
His voice is gruff, thick with something that makes your chest ache. He doesn’t promise miracles. Doesn’t swear he’ll change overnight. But the look in his eyes—the vow in them—says more than words ever could.
“You have to be here, y’know?”
His thumb swipes under your eye, rough but tender.
“I’m knowin’, baby.”
But you can’t stop now—the words spill out like a confession, shaky and raw—
“When we have our first lil’ Papa…when we get married…when you finally graduate…”
Your breath hitches, lips quivering as you grip his wrist, needing him to hear this, to feel it like you do.
“You can’t leave me like that again.”
The words break on the last syllable, “You just can’t.”
That’s all it takes.
In one swift movement, he’s out of his seat, leaning across the table, his big hands cradling your face—not gentle, not this time—commanding your attention.
“Stop that fuckin’ cryin’,” he growls, “I’m never leavin’ you again.”
You whimper—half protest, half relief—but before you can speak, his mouth crashes into yours, stealing your breath along with the last of your tears. It’s not a sweet kiss—it’s desperate, possessive, a promise sealed in salt and heat.
The waitress approaches with a tray piled high with steaming Creole dishes—crispy fried catfish, creamy shrimp étouffée, golden cornbread muffins—but freezes mid step when she catches sight of you two, your faces still inches apart.
Her voice squeaks out, “I’ll—uh—‘come back!”
Onyankopon doesn’t even flinch, just leans back slightly, his deep voice smooth as molasses—“Nah, you good, love. We ain’t mean to stop what you gotta do.”
You quickly wipe your face with the back of your hand, giggling apologetically at her, your earlier tears replaced by a warm, flustered grin.
“Thank you, sweetheart,” you murmur as she carefully sets the plates down.
“Is there anything else y’all need?” she asks, glancing between you two like she’s half-expecting another emotional hurricane.
Onyankopon settles into his seat, stretching his long legs out before casually dropping the bomb—“Can you box her up as a to-go entrée?”
Your mouth falls open before you snatch a fry off his plate and flick it at him. He catches it between his teeth, smirk victorious as he chews.
“Damn. Nevermind then,” he murmurs, low and playful, making the waitress bite back a laugh before she scurries off.
The rest of the night feels good—normal in a way that makes your chest ache with gratitude. Before leaving, you drag him into the restaurant’s vintage black and white photo booth, cramming yourselves into the tiny space. He grumbles “This shit for teenagers,” but still lets you pose him—gruff, sexy glares mixed with moments where he suddenly pulls you in, his lips at your neck, his hands possessive on your hips while the flash captures it all.
And when you climb back into the Hummer later, the LED lights inside now glow a soft violet—you can’t help but watch him with quiet fascination.
He’s on the phone with one of his men, voice a low, authoritative rumble—“Nah, don’t move ‘til I say so”—while his free hand rolls a blunt with effortless precision, his thick fingers crimping the paper just right.
The Hummer idles softly outside your apartment building, the engine a quiet purr beneath the hum of the city at night. The LED glow from the dashboard paints his sharp features in an otherworldly hue—high cheekbones catching the light, the flicker of his chains as he moves.
You sit curled in the passenger seat, cradling the bouquet of flowers he’d surprised you with earlier—roses, peonies, all lush and fragrant. You press your nose into the petals, inhaling deeply as your lashes flutter shut for just a second. Sweet. Just like him when he wanted to be.
Across from you, Onyankopon flicks his lighter—the flame casting brief, dancing shadows across his deep brown skin, his tattoos momentarily illuminated like ancient script. He takes a long pull from the blunt, smoke curling from his nostrils in smooth, practiced streams.
“Non, fais pas ça—Nah, don’t do that. Li pa bon pou biznis.”
You watch as he takes another hit, the ember glowing bright before he exhales again, smoke filling the space between you.
“Mwen pral rele ou pli ta,” he murmurs into the phone before ending the call.
Silence settles, but it’s comfortable—heavy with the scent of weed and flowers, the quiet understanding between you two thicker than the smoke.
You reach over, brushing a thumb over his knuckles.
“Teach me,” you murmur.
He arches a brow.
“Creole?”
You nod.
His lips curl into that half smirk that always makes your stomach flutter as he nudges the blunt between his fingers and murmurs, "Say ‘Mwen renmen w’."
I love you.
You bite your lip to suppress the grin threatening to take over your face—you know what it means—but you play along anyway, voice lilting sweetly, “Mwen renmen w."
His eyes darken, the low purple light catching the flecks of gold in them as he exhales smoke and leans closer, rough palm cradling your jaw.
“I love you so much fuckin’ more, girl."
You only took two hits, but it’s enough—your body melts against his side, pliant and warm, your cheek pressing into the firm curve of his shoulder as he scrolls through his phone with one hand, the other absently tracing circles on your thigh.
Messages light up the screen—coordinates, confirmations, the usual—but you’re too busy nuzzling into the scruff along his jaw, breathing in the mix of his cologne and weed. You press a feather light kiss there, right where his beard meets his cheekbone.
“Thank you, mama," he murmurs, voice gravel rough but tender.
You go in for another, but this time he turns his head just enough to meet you halfway—a quick peck at first, teasing. But when you chase his lips, he hums low in his throat and suddenly it’s not quick anymore.
His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, demanding entry, and you part for him with a breathy sigh. The kiss deepens—slow, filthy, calculated—until you’re squirming in your seat, your fingers tangled in his chains.
“Aight," he growls against your mouth, one hand already on the door handle—“"We takin’ this shit upstairs."
The kiss is molten, unhurried but heavy with intent—your foreheads bump together, lips slanting clumsily as you whimper into his mouth, needier than usual. Your heel slides up over the center console, legs spreading just enough in that shy, wordless way of yours—can’t wait, don’t make me wait.
Then—there—the rough pad of his middle finger swiping over your clothed folds, and fuck, the fabric is already damp, sticking to your skin. Your tongue stutters against his, a broken huff catching in your throat as your head falls back against the seat.
“….Ain’t even touched yo’ ass yet,” he murmurs, but his finger circles again, mimicking the lazy thrust of his tongue—slow, then slower—until you’re squirming, your hips canting up into his touch.
“Mwen renmen w,” you mewl, and his fingers curl, gripping your thigh as he licks into your mouth like he’s trying to taste the words.
“‘Fuckin’ right you do.”
The air in the Hummer is thick—hot with the weight of desperate breaths and the slick, sinful sound of his fingers teasing you through damp fabric. Your hands fist gently in his beard, the coarse strands scraping against your palms, sending a shiver down your spine. You can’t help it—you nuzzle against the roughness, craving the friction, the burn of it against your skin before dragging him down into another filthy, open mouthed kiss.
Your legs spread wider—so fucking wide—knees falling slack against the leather seats, silently begging.
His fingers then hook into the waistband of your capris, dipping just beneath. He doesn’t even push inside yet, just swipes slow along your soaked folds, gathering the slick there before dragging back up. Your hips jerk, but he pins you with a glare, forehead pressed hard against yours as his breath fans over your parted lips.
“M’gonna cum if you put ‘em in,” you whimper, voice trembling, weak.
You squirm, biting your lip—“Ony…I’m so wet.”
His nostrils flare, eyes narrowing as he leans in, his breath hot against your ear—“I’mma put ‘em in. You ‘bet not fuckin’ cum.”
The moment his thick fingers slide inside you, deep, your body betrays you in the most obscene way—your pussy clenches around him with a wet, shuddering pfft as his knuckles sink into your swollen folds.
A weak, desperate sob tears from your throat, your voice breaking high and needy like you haven’t been touched in years, like his fingers are the only thing keeping you sane. Worse? You gush around him instantly, soaking his hand in a humiliating rush of slick, your hips jerking helplessly.
“Fuck,” he growls, dragging the word out low and rough as your eyes roll back. He’s fucking you with his fingers, slow and deep, curling them just right to make your back arch off the seat.
“Ughn—ohmygod—“ you slur, voice wrecked, your mouth falling slack as he pistons his fingers in and out, your wetness squelching around them with every thrust.
He leans in, his breath hot against your ear—“Soundin’ like a fuckin’ baby.”
And you do—whimpering, gasping, your pussy clenching around his fingers like it’s trying to milk them for more.
“Ain’t even fucked you yet,” he murmurs, cruel, twisting his fingers just to hear you sob again.
A desperate whimper claws its way up your throat as you crash your mouth against his in a messy, open mouthed kiss—tongue sliding filthy against his, lips smearing wet and frantic. Your brows knit together, a tight little frown creasing your forehead as his fingers bury themselves even deeper, stretching you with that perfect, brutal coil that makes your toes curl.
“Onyo’—fuhh—!"
The words dissolve into a senseless slur, your voice cracking as your legs hike higher, knees pressing into your chest, showing him—begging him—just how badly you need it.
Your mind hazes, drifting back to those long nights alone—phone pressed to your ear, his voice rough through the receiver as he talked you through it, murmuring filthy promises while you rubbed your clit with trembling fingers, tears streaking your cheeks.
And now? You can’t even handle the real thing.
His fingers withdraw with a wet pop, leaving you empty and whimpering—until his rough grip tangles in your hair, yanking your face toward his lap with a throaty command.
“Gon’ eat this dick up," he grunts, voice dripping with dominance—“Actin’ like you can’t even take my fingers."
You surge forward, pressing a sloppy, desperate kiss against his lips—“M’sorry—"
“Ion’ wanna hear allat’,” he growls, "On yo’ knees."
He shoves the console back with one hand, his other hand still fisted in your curls, guiding you down. The sight of you beneath him is obscenely perfect—your large, teary eyes peering up through your lashes, lips parted and puffy, freckled cheeks flushed.
With trembling hands, you tug his sweats down just enough to free him—his dick springs out, thick and angry, the tip already glistening. It’s bigger than your face, heavy in your small hands, veins prominent under your fingertips.
"Fuck," you whimper—you can’t help yourself, smacking the swollen head against your tongue before licking a kittenish stripe up his shaft.
His rough palm cups the side of your face, calloused fingers pressing into your soft skin before delivering a dominant smack—not hard enough to hurt, just enough to make you whimper and redden under his touch.
“How much you missed this dick?" He growls, watching with hooded eyes as you bob your head messily, spit and pre-cum slicking your lips.
Your answer comes in slurred, desperate sucks—“Mmmhh—mmph!"—the vibration of your whimpers traveling up his length. You've always struggled to take him fully, but you try so hard, your throat fluttering around the head as you choke back tears.
He chuckles darkly, reaching for the blunt still smoldering in the ashtray. Onyankopon takes a slow drag, exhaling smoke through his nose like some kind of arrogant god watching his worshipper struggle.
“Pull them pretty ass titties out," he commands, "You know what a nigga like."
With shaky hands, you tug your top down, letting your heavy breasts spill free. Your nipples are already peaked and sensitive, and when your fingers brush over them, you jolt with a breathy gasp.
“Ah—!"
“Keep goin'," he rumbles, sinking deeper into his seat, blunt dangling between his fingers as he watches you with lazy hunger.
“‘Ain't tell you to stop."
You press your tits together around his thick length, the head of his dick peeking out between the softness of your cleavage. You begin rocking your body, fucking him with your tits in slow, worshipful strokes—
"Mwen renmen w," you mewl again, voice weak and trembling, your swollen lips forming the words between gasps.
“Say that shit again.”
“Mwen renmen w!" you mewl even deeper, your hips jerking uselessly as your arousal drips down your thighs.
He grunts, finally tossing the blunt aside—“Fuck it. A nigga need yo’ pussy now."
Your fingers clutch at his shoulders, pulling him down as your back hits the leather seat—his massive frame hovers over you, swallowing you in shadow except for the violet glow of the LED lights streaking across his sweat-slicked skin. Your lips find him again in a weak, sloppy kiss, your mind too fogged with lust to form coherent thoughts—just need, just heat, just him.
“Show a nigga what he been missin’.”
Your thighs tremble as you slowly spread your legs wider beneath him, presenting your soaked folds—puffy and glistening under the dim light.
“Been waitin’ for you," you whimper, voice cracking with desperation.
The words hit him like a match to gasoline.
He crashes his mouth back onto yours in a searing kiss before trailing his lips down—lower—licking a hot stripe down your neck, sucking bruises into your throat, teeth scraping over your collarbone. Your back arches when his tongue swirls around one taut nipple, then the other, pulling whines from your chest as pleasure spikes through you.
But he doesn’t stop there.
Strong hands grip your thighs, spreading them wider as he licks his lips—"Fuck, look at you."
And then he dives in.
His tongue drags slow and filthy up your slit, savoring you before he buries his face between your legs, nose nudging your clit as he devours—deep, hungry strokes of his tongue, curling just right inside you.
Your hands fly to his braids, gripping tight as your hips jerk—
"Fuck, baby.”
His response? A low, vibrating growl against your pussy, his fingers digging into your thighs to hold you still as he feasts.
Onyankopon’s mouth is filthy—so loud, messy and wet, lips sealing around your clit with a suck that makes your whole body jerk. Saliva and arousal mix in obscene, sloppy sounds, his tongue working you open with rough, languid strokes like he's savoring every damn second.
You tuck your chin shyly, peeking down at him through fluttering lashes—his face buried between your thighs, eyes hooded with satisfaction as he eats you like his last meal. Your fingers tangle in his braids, twisting gently, playing with the silky strands as a soft pout forms on your lips.
“…Missed playin’ in your hair," you whimper, voice thick with emotion—almost fragile, like admitting it out loud makes it more real.
“Ain’t gotta miss it,” he rasps, his tongue plunging deep—"Keep playin’ in my shit. Gon’ let you braid me up again after you make a fuckin’ mess on me."
Your breath hitches, fingers tightening in his hair as you nod frantically, spreading your legs even wider—"Uh-huh—y-yeah—!"
Your words dissolve into stupid, slurred nonsense—"Ony—fuhh—I’mgonnac—“ as your pussy gushes against his mouth, the lewd squelch of his tongue working you over drowning out your weak cries. Your cheeks burn hot, embarrassment and pleasure twisting together as you feel everything—his nose grinding against your clit, his lips sucking your folds, his tongue fucking into you in slow, filthy circles.
“Taste so fuckin’ good," he growls against your skin, the vibration making you squeal peevishly.
“Mwen renmen w..."
And just like that? Switch flipped.
His grip tightens, lifting your legs effortlessly over his broad shoulders, thumbs rubbing slow circles into the arches of your feet like he’s savoring the feel of you.
“Keep tellin’ a nigga you love him,” he grunts, voice low and rough—"Let’s have a conversation."
You whimper, arms looping around his neck, pulling him closer until his forehead presses against yours—breaths mingling, hearts pounding.
“Mwen renmen w," you whisper again, barely audible, lips brushing his with each syllable.
And then—oh God—you feel him. His thick length slaps against your soaked folds, the blunt head nudging at your entrance, already making your body tense in anticipation.
“Yeah, huh? Talk to me."
You nod frantically, pliant eyes struggling to focus as he starts to sink in—slow, so damn slow—stretching you in a way you haven’t felt in too long.
Your face twists—lips parting around a shaky gasp—as the fullness steals your breath. And then? Emotion hits you like a tidal wave.
Tears prick at your eyes, your chest swelling with something so big it hurts. You feel connected—like his soul is pressing into yours with every inch.
“Mwen renmen w," you sob—weakest yet, voice cracking—as he finally bottoms out, his hips flush against your ass.
His groan is guttural, hands tightening on your thighs—“Fuck, mama—I know."
And then he moves.
His strokes are borderline punishing—each thrust forcing a choked gasp from your throat, the stretch of him bordering on too much, too deep, too everything. Yet your body clings to him greedily, walls fluttering around his length like it’s been starved—rewarding him for every inch he takes, every brutal snap of his hips that leaves you whimpering.
Your toes curl, thighs trembling where they’re hooked over his shoulders. One large hand fists at the nape of your hair, yanking your face close to his until your foreheads knock together—your head jerks back with each rough thrust, lips parted in a shaky pout, tears spilling over your flushed cheeks.
Weak little sobs hitch in your chest with every drive of his hips, your nails digging crescent moons into the sweat-slick muscles of his back. Between broken moans, your voice cracks—soft, vulnerable—
“Hurts—seein’ you leave," you sniffle, brows knitting together, “D—don’t…wanna do that again…”
His glare darkens, jaw tightening as he rams into you harder—deeper—a grunt tearing from his chest as his breath fans hot over your face.
“Then don’t," he snarls, voice raw with possessiveness, "Ain’t goin’ nowhere if you keep takin’ dick like this.”
Your next cry is swallowed by his mouth—his kiss bruising, tongue forcing its way past your lips as if to silence your doubts. And god help you, you let him—melting into the pain, the pleasure, the promise in every snap of his hips.
You’re silent now—past words, past whimpers—just taking him, your body trembling under the sheer weight of his dominance. The only sound is the obscene squelch of your pussy creaming around him, gushing embarrassingly with every withdrawal of his thick length.
“That’s it—take this shit. Ain’t no runnin’ now,” he growls, watching your teary eyes roll back as your walls clench around him.
A surrendering little sob escapes you once more—weak, broken—your hands limply gripping his shoulders as he fucks you through it, his pace never faltering.
“Fuck, girl—you drippin’ all on me."
And you are—soaking his thighs, the leather seats, everything. Your orgasm wrings you out in slow, torturous waves as he uses you, claims you, ruins you.
His touch softens just enough to soothe—calloused fingers brushing away your tears as he kisses you through your cries, lips lingering against yours in a rare moment of tenderness.
“M’sorry,” he just grunts, voice rough with sincerity.
“Ain’t leavin’ you again."
Your nods and whimpers dissolve into another aching climax, your pussy pulsing around him as you drown in the love, the passion, the need. It’s a moment that could last forever.
But just like that? The mood shifts.
His grip tightens, flipping you effortlessly onto your knees, face pressed into the leather as he drags you back onto his lap—ass up, his dick buried to the hilt inside you. Your feet tuck atop his thighs, heels digging in as you let out a tiny, shuddering “O—Ooh—!"
You start slow. Rolling your hips back tentatively, but he then growls, “Take yo’ time. ‘This dick ain’t goin’ nowhere.”
The command is clear.
You listen, setting a rhythm—slow, deliberate—skin slapping together in a steady, filthy clap that fills the heavy silence. Your thighs tremble, face smushed into the seat as your whimpers grow louder—"O—O-ooh—!"
Onyankopon’s hand cracks down on your ass, “‘There she go’. My lil’ nasty ass bitch."
Your fingers slip between your lips, stifling your moans as you rock back onto him, ass quaking with each bounce.
“I ain’t movin’," he warns, "Give me a fuckin’ show.”
You press a shaky hand against his abdomen for leverage, sitting up just enough to feel him deeper—too deep—hitting a spot so painfully good your body locks up.
His grip tightens around your waist as you whimper—"Ooh, shit!” before desperately bouncing your ass back onto him, the sound of skin slapping skin deafening in the enclosed space.
And then? Your pussy farts around him for the thousandth time, wet and obscene, the vibration dragging a trembling groan from your throat—“Ooooh, mygod—Papa—!"
You were never loud like this.
Your moans drag out—whiny, high-pitched, annoyed with yourself because you can’t stop them, each thrust pulling another pathetic sound from your lips.
Onyankopon’s hand slips around your torso, calloused fingers cupping beneath your breasts where his name brands into your skin—it’s effortless. He’s bouncing you down onto his dick like you weigh nothing, your legs kicking weakly as your cream paints his length.
“You gon’ keep takin’ this muhfucka’ like you missed it.”
And you do—each bounce, each squelch, each fatty noise your pussy makes proving it.
"That’s my muhfuckin’ girl."
Your head falls back against his shoulder, mouth drooling, eyes rolling, body melting. He owns you.
His thick forearm presses against your throat, the pressure just enough to make your vision blur at the edges as he fucks into you with even more brutal, punishing strokes. His jaw rests heavy atop your head, your weak panting the only sound you can manage past the tightness in your windpipe—your body submitting under his dominance.
“Mmmf—hot," you mewl, sweat slicked skin sticking to his, the air in the car suffocating.
Without breaking rhythm, Onyankopon reaches over and rolls the window down, the sudden rush of night air hitting your overheated skin—
Oh God.
Your noises—those pathetic, whimpering, creaming sounds—are now free to echo into the quiet neighborhood.
Panicked, you reach a shaky hand toward the window switch—but his grip tightens around your throat, cutting off your air as he rams up into you, all while tugging you down onto his dick even harder.
“Nngh—!" you choke, humiliation burning through you as you clench around him.
“You whinin’ like a bitch,” he grunts directly into your ear, the vibration shooting straight to your core.
Then, with a final rough tug, he forces your face toward the open window—forcing you to see the dimly lit houses, the quiet streets—his people, his city.
“Let everybody know I’m back home.”
And you scream. His name ripping from your throat, raw and unhinged.
“Mwen renmen w,” he growls between thrusts, the Creole rolling off his tongue like honey mixed with gravel—your words, your love, thrown back at you with the same raw intensity you’d given him all night.
Your body jerks as he nuts—deep, so deep—his release flooding you in thick, pulsing waves that make your thighs quiver.
For a long moment, there’s nothing but heavy breathing—his chest rising and falling against your back, your own breath hitching in your throat as aftershocks ripple through you.
Then, weakly, you tilt your head up, catching his lips in one last, tender kiss—your little cries soft against his mouth, voice trembling with everything—relief, exhaustion, love.
Your body melts back against his chest, muscles lax and satisfied as you peer out through the cracked window at the quiet streets of the 7th Ward. The humid night air carries the distant hum of cicadas and the faint bassline of someone’s music drifting from a porch down the block. His warmth presses into your back, steadying, as you tilt your head to murmur against his skin—
“Where would we go... if we left?"
For a beat, he stills—his breath huffing against your damp shoulder before he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, lips brushing the sensitive skin there.
“Wherever you wanna be, girl. ‘Long as it’s got a bed that can take how I fuck you."
A weak giggle bubbles from your throat—but then you say it, the words slipping out before you can second-guess them.
“‘M serious, Papa. I think it’s time to get out the 7th.”
You feel his surprise, the way his grip tightens reflexively around your waist.
“Where ‘this comin’ from?”
You swallow, suddenly shy.
"Been thinkin’... ’bout quiet. ‘Bout space. ‘Bout you—us—somewhere ain’t nobody knockin’ on the door.”
His fingers trace idle patterns on your hip as he murmurs, “A crib up in the Art District ‘don’t sound bad."
“Gives more space for Bear to run around."
“Yeah," he agrees, "A nigga could look into some trade schools ‘round there too."
Wait.
You turn slightly in his arms, searching his face.
“You’re serious?"
He nods. Then he says it—words heavy with the weight of a future he’s choosing.
“‘Wanna give you a ring. A child. ‘Can’t do allat’ bein’ on the streets.”
Your heart swells.
You clutch his face as you say, “It doesn’t matter who you are to everybody else. You got me. I love you more than life itself, Onyankopon.”
He grunts low in his throat—then crashes his lips against yours in a kiss so deep, so emotional, it makes you giggle against his mouth, cheeks burning.
“We finna’ go get a ring right fuckin’ now.”
You giggle once more, pressing a hand to his chest.
"Let’s make it into the house first, yeah? We need a shower."
"Aight. Imma’ fuck you again in there."
You squeak as he hoists you up, your half naked body tucked tight against his chest as he steps out into the humid night. A few voices call out from porches down the block—“Aye, Ony back home!"—cheery, thick with that Southern lilt.
You nestle your face against the sweat damp skin of his collarbone before murmuring, “…The 7th ain’t so bad with you here."
When you peer up, his gaze is already locked on you—dark, heavy, full of something that makes your stomach flip.
“A nigga couldn’t ask for anythin’ more than yo’ love.”
Before you can respond—scratch scratch scratch—Bear’s massive paws hit the front door, his excited whines vibrating through the wood.
Onyankopon just chuckles, adjusting you in his arms as he kicks the door open. And the last thing the neighborhood hears before it slams shut? Your giggles, his grunt as Bear tackles him, and the thud of all three of you entering inside with a heap.
a/n: yes it took me 2 months to finish this..yes I got lazy at the end..
The penthouse was quiet except for the soft click of Ony’s dress shoes against the marble floor.
He loosened his tire as he walked in, exhausted from a 14 hour day, only to find you sitting in the living room, a glass of untouched wine on the table beside you.
“So we just gon’ act like everything’s fine?” You asked playing with your long French tip stilettos, he stopped. “I just got home.”
“Exactly.”
The tension hung thick between you two. Ony ran a tatted hand over his face, already knowing that this wasn’t going to be a simple conversation. “You seeing other bitches?”
“So you starting this shit again”
“I’m not starting anything I asked you a question”
“If I was, I wouldn’t still be married to yo ass would I” Ony says sternly.
“So an affair?
He chucked, almost like his ego was hurt “I don’t have time for this shit” he walked off, but you were immediately behind him “oh so i’m right then” you taunted him. “You always walking away when a conversation get too real for you to handle.” “You been drinkin.” You paused for a second— then you laughed, offended “please, I bearly had shit to drink”
He stopped and turned back to you. His controlled expression now faded into irritation. “I’m not about to argue with you about dumb shit right now.”
You walked closer to him bodies touching, feeling the heat radiating of eachother— “well I want to.”
“Fuckkk.. Ony” you moaned as Ony’s fingers were buried deep inside you, “you wanna argue so let’s argue”. “I...ohmygosh..” Ony’s finger curled up inside of you hitting your spot over and over, your legs shutting closed together on impulse .
“Open them legs and look at me when I’m talking to you.”
Ony flips you over on your hands and knees so now your were facing the full length mirror that sat in front of the bed. He slid a tatted hand around your throat while the other had a firm grip on his monster ass dick as he swiped it up and down in your wetness.
He swirls it around your clit one last time before putting in in one swift go ripping a ragged mown from your throat, “oh..shitt..!” ain’t pounded into you from the back with a relentless pace, your eyes flutter shut as Ony was rearranging your guts
He gave you a smack on your asscheek “keep yo eyes on the mirror, see what im doin’ to you?” He grunted . You nodded like a bitch in heat, tears started flowing down your cheeks, his hand found its way into your hair and held a firm grip on it.
“I asked you sum.” He leaned down to whisper in your ear. “Yess..!you fuckin me so good…! Mmng..” you whined out.
“Yeah?… Look at you, you think I’m fuckin anybody this pretty? Think this ain’t yo dick mama? Huh?” His strokes became rougher while he asked you a series of questions, you mindlessly babbled out words both of you could understand. Loud obscene wet noises filled the room as your cream coated Ony’s dick.
“Fuck..” you and Ony make eye contact in the mirror, sweat beads in his forehead and eyebrows completely furrowed as if he was focused— taking you all in.
“O-onyy..fuckk I’m gonna cum..” yo
“Cum on this dick baby” Ony talked and fucked you through your orgasm, just as he was about to cum he pulled out your legs gave out as you lied flat on your stomach still having having aftershocks of your orgasm.
He got off the bed and stood in front of you his dick overshadowing your face “I’m not don’t with you yet get on yo knees”
You weakly got on your knees and swirled your tongue around his tip before sinking down on the whole thing and coming by back up you repeat the same actions while hallowing your cheeks
“Fuck baby that’s right..” he let out a low groan while resting his hand on the back of your head.
You wrapped your hands around his dick to help you get the length you couldn’t reach, you looked up at him and he was totally gone,
“M’ bout to nut..” he said in a shaky groan, he pulled you off him and started jerking himself off.
“Fuck open ya mouth..”
You obliged as he nutted all over your tongue and your face.
𐔌 5.9K 𐦯 • 𝘕𝘖 𝘔𝘐𝘕𝘖𝘙𝘚.ᐟ | 𝑷𝒍𝒖𝒈.ᐟ𝑶𝒏𝒚, CollegeAU, mention of drugs (weed), or*l (m. receiving), face-f*cking (slightly rough, lots of gagging, very messy—does this count as oral fixation?), f*ngering, implied p -> v s*x, dirty talk, slight degradation, corruption of mc, inexperienced mc, mc goes in sub-space (unknowingly), mc gets d*ck-drunk, minor BDSM dynamics, subtle size k*nk, gentle/caring Ony, nonchalant Ony, teasing Ony, slow-build interest, nicknames (Mama & Princess), explicit language, use of the n-word (all characters & Author are Black)
PART 1
decided to be nice & give y'all a mini drabble of them. enjoy .ᐟ <3
ᝰ♡.ᐟ IT ISN'T COMPLETELY DARK OUT YET AS THE GOLDEN ORANGE hue of the setting sun splashes across the entire campus.
Even with the significant lack of people strolling the brick-laid pathways, Onyankopon doesn't neglect to keep an eye out for campus officers. He doesn't need anything on his record, not when the semester's just begun.
He figured he would be back in his car by now, speeding off to his apartment. Not still standing here.
This was supposed to be quick.
“A'ight man, how much I owe you again?” Standing about two feet in front of him, his customer glances up, tearing his vision away from the crumpled bills in his hands.
Onyankopon almost kisses his teeth.
"Seventy-five."
He swears he said that number about five times since this interaction began.
"A'ight, got you…"
Crumpled paper flicks noisily as the client thumbs through the stack of random bills; fives, tens, and a whole lot of ones.
There's a faint, sour scent emanating off of the guy whenever he sways just a bit too much in his spot; dried sweat. It only adds to Onyankopon's growing irritation.
"Y-yo … I, uh … only got about forty-three cash, bro."
The feeble way in which he looks at him almost makes Onyankopon irate.
'This nigga,' he thinks.
A heavy sigh pushes past his lips, an urge he could no longer resist. "Just send the rest through Zelle or Cash App."
"Bet," the man says as he shoves the hand full of money his way.
Onyankopon gingerly takes the damp cash and pockets it quickly. With free hands, his customer frantically pulls out his phone to continue the transaction.
"Uh—h-how much?"
Onyankopon stares at him square in the face. "Whatever's left after forty-three dollars."
“Chill,” his client says with a shaky chuckle.
He's trying, he really is. Annoying clients come with the territory, especially when it comes down to dealing with a bunch of smokers.
Usually, he'd have more patience for this kind of thing. But, today he's pressed for time. Especially since he's got royalty blowing up his line, demanding his presence. 'Her impatient ass,' he thinks as his phone buzzes in his pocket, getting it's second message within the last hour.
Since their first time hooking up, Onyankopon won't deny the fact that Ámerei has been his main fix—on campus, at least.
After finals, they exchanged numbers, but it was radio silence between them during summer break. Understandably. She had her own life outside of school, and he had his own shit to take care of back home.
There were no ill sentiments between the two, just a mutual understanding of where this situation of theirs starts and ends: at school.
So, he wasn't surprised when she hit him up within the first month of this fall semester. He had stopped by at her new dorm—a single—and gave her what she timidly asked for.
And he gave it to her good. Maybe seeing her brought it out of him or maybe it was just the perfect chance to release some built up pressure.
Admittedly, when it comes to messing around with Ámerei, Onyankopon can appreciate the ease that comes with her. There weren't sneaking around anyone's back to do this. Additionally, the clarity she possesses regarding this entire thing is a breath of fresh air. She isn't blowing up his phone, demanding him to do things that fall within the realm of being a "significant other."
Honestly, she doesn't even ask him much about himself. Neither does he.
Compared to some of the other girls he's been with, she's definitely someone he doesn't have to stress out over.
However, even with the general ease of their situation-ship, it seems that he's created a little bit of a monster.
Are you busy?
Onyankopon..
I want to see you
He was in the car, on the way to this deal when the first message was read aloud to him.
She has a habit of hitting him up while he's in the middle of doing something or just so happens to be on his way out of the door. And despite being a recurring interruption to his plans, it always brings him a sense of fondness.
Despite the growing frequency of their meetups, Onyankopon believes that Ámerei isn't someone he'll grow tired of. He can't explain it, but he knows that she's just nice to be around. Cool.
His brain was silent while he tried to decide if he wanted to do this today.
He did.
It wasn't until he reached a red light, that he picked up his phone, allowing himself a weak smirk as he typed a response.
Uu wanna see my dicc
Her reply was instant:
That's not the same thing?
A small scoff left him as the traffic light ahead changed. Against his better judgment, he elected to split his attention in two places: the road and his phone.
Making plays rn
Uu cld wait ?
I'm with the girls at the apartment
Let me know when you get back
He loved the message, quickly dropping his phone in his lap.
Although, unlike other times, his brain didn't immediately drop the conversation. Rather, he kind of toiled over it for a minute or two, sparing an unnecessary amount of time on a particular idea: being considerate.
But, was it consideration? Or was that just his usual standard about punctuality?
Come another red light, Onyankopon chose to put those thoughts to rest. He never liked being in his head about someone for too long. When it comes to matters regarding people, it's either you do or you don’t.
So, he did.
Picking up his phone, his thumb slid across his keyboard in a quick pattern. He didn't even have to glance at the screen to send the short message.
Gimme a hr
She loved the message.
That conversation was definitely had over an hour ago and he's still not back home, at no fault of his own.
"I think the money sent."
Hands buried in the pockets of his sweats, Onyankopon gives the man a brief "Mhm," as he stares him down. He waits patiently for his phone to buzz with the notification of the money entering his account.
And when it does—because he needs to make sure that he's not being cheated put of his product, no matter how many times this guy has bought from him—only then does he give him what they came here for: the weed.
"Thank you so much, bro," he rushes out.
Onyankopon doesn't spare a word, let alone a glance, as he heads back to his car thinking:
'Finally.'
Hopping back in the driver's seat, he pulls the car door shut after him. He wastes no time in pulling out his phone.
So ... it's been an hour.
K...
His fingers move quick.
My fault ik
Nigga was moving slow
Im comin dnt trip
He scoffs at his last message. When has he ever explained himself this much?
The trip back to his apartment is faster than it took for him to go out and meet his customer.
Comin up rn be at the door
It takes all of six minutes for him to enter the building to reach his floor. Leaving the elevators behind, he turns down the long hallway, already seeing the short and slim figure waiting at his door.
Phone in hand, too concerned with whatever it is on her screen to watch her surroundings, she doesn't even notice him coming.
Ámerei stands with majority of her weight on one leg, her hip poking out to accentuate her subtle curves. There's a disruption on her face; a wrinkle of her brows.
She looks upset.
She looks good.
"Y'know, I could'a been anybody walking up on you."
Her head snaps up. The sable strands of her silk press falls away from her face to showcase the moment of recognition that flashes across it, just before it's overtaken by irritation. She opens her mouth.
"Before you even start, it wasn't me." He's already fishing for his apartment keys.
"What does that mean?" She raises a perfectly trimmed brow, eyeing him with skepticism.
“The nigga was doing too much," he says, glancing back at her over his shoulder. "I'm here though, so we not tripping'.”
He pushes the door open, allowing her first, as always. Ámerei's lips are sealed shut, shooting him a glare as she slips past him.
“Mhm.”
Just as she turns her head forward, Onyankopon leaving her line of sight, a heavy hand pops her on the left side of her ass.
"What the fuck," she yelps, whipping around to face him. The sharp sting blooms into a hallow ache beneath her skin as she rubs the spot.
He tries to stifle the growing smirk on his face as he kicks the door shut behind him. “Got too much attitude."
“You were late, mind you,” she sneers, pointing a square acrylic nail into the bed of his chest.
"Eager, ain't you?"
She notices the strong arms circling her waist, yet neglects to acknowledge them.
Arms crossed, she's the epitome of a pretty girl with an attitude. Hair done, nails perfect, and a fresh set of lashes decorating her pretty brown eyes.
And, irritated or not, her gaze is a lot more seductive. He knows that if he makes mention of her saditty demeanor, he'll only rile her up more.
“I can go."
His eyes narrow by a fraction as he stares down at her. “But—" his hands slip from her waist to the perch of her ass. “You gon' stay.”
Her mouth opens to spit back a retort.
"And lose that attitude, 'cause you still getting what you want."
Before she can even think of a response to that one, Onyankopon drops his lips on hers; that conversation is done. In his grasp, she practically melts. The familiarity of his lips is too comforting for her to resist.
He has to admit, Ámerei has gotten better at kissing. A lot better. His favorite thing about that is her newfound affinity for sucking.
In fact, his tongue is almost always the first thing she goes for.
One last peck on the lips precedes a swipe over his bottom lip, coaxing him into a deeper kiss. Before he can even realize it, she's pushing her tongue into his mouth in search of his.
Her hands, soft and reaching, find the sides of his face to keep his head tilted so that she may get more access. He taught her that one.
To his own demise (benefit), every time she's got her lips wrapped around his tongue, it puts a fire in him that wakes him up below the belt. They're moving before he can even comprehend this, too busy feeling on her ass.
"—damn."
His body drops to the couch, slightly bouncing against the cushions. He barely manages to look up at her when she's climbing into his lap. Her eyes burn with lust.
"You moving like you … controlling shit." He's breathless watching her, hands coming to rest on her hips as she takes her seat.
Speaking of hands, hers press to his chest as she leans in for another kiss. His breath is stolen away for the second time in just two minutes.
"Mh … you smelled good," she moans against his mouth.
"I—"
She leaps at the chance to get to his tongue. And—unsurprisingly—she's sucking at him again, like he's a ripe berry, full of juice and ready to burst in her mouth.
His spit is sweet.
"'Preciate—" The half of his sentence that comes out is garbled by their kiss.
She only pulls away to whisper in his ear. "Taste good, Ony."
When she pulls back, and he can finally look her in the eyes, he's almost—scared?
This is not the shy virgin he met only a handful of months ago.
"Yeah?" He shifts upwards a bit, thinking of a way to regain control over this situation.
"Mhm," she nods. The hum is practically a moan, heavy and dragging.
Onyankopon takes this moment to look over her body.
It's just dipping back into the cooler seasons, on the cusp of fall. Yet, enough of her skin is exposed by an off-the-shoulder cropped crew-neck that it can make anyone think otherwise. And not to mention, the ridiculously thin gray leggings that don't hide much.
"I got something that taste better."
Her vixen-like demeanor flickers as her thoughts flash across her face. "What's that?" she asks.
"Ms. 4.0 GPA, c'mon now." A grin spreads across his face.
She rolls her eyes, but the heat has been snuffed out. "And if I'm not good at it?"
He scoffs. "You wasn't good at kissing, neither."
She scowls.
"You getting better every time." Amusement is written all over his face. It's almost irritating. "This gon' be the same thing, I promise you."
She averts her eyes as she starts thinking; this isn't the first time he's alluded to wanting head. It's not like she doesn't want to give it. It's more of a question of, can she?
Probably.
But, can she do it as well as the other girls he's been with?
Definitely not.
That's always a looming fear of hers.
She can hardly bear the thought of performing poorly, and being dubbed the one who "couldn't give good head" or who "had weak pussy;" a story to tell his friends in the group chat.
For the most part, that fear is quelled, just on account of him not really being a piece of shit.
An asshole at times, sure. But, not a douche-bag. And, save for their first time ever doing something together, Onyankopon has never directly spoke about other women he's been with. He doesn't even speak about people he knows.
She can respect the fact that he's not a pillow-talker. But she can only hope that he's not just trying to put on an act.
She tries not to worry too much about it. Outside of these links, their lives are completely detached. They don't even run in the same circles.
"Why you scared? I ain't been a good teacher?"
"Shut up," she laughs, giving him a gentle push to the chest.
For a moment, she's quiet as she thinks to herself, chewing on her bottom lip as she does so.
"We can try," she nods. "But, don't expect me to be amazing," she says as she starts sinking to the ground between his thighs.
"Woah, wait—" he catches her by the waist, stopping her just before her knees hit the floor.
"Wha—d-don't I have to get on my knees?"
"Do you wanna be on your knees?"
She blinks, stunted by the question. "I … don't I have to?"
His brows lift by a fraction. "You don't have to do nothing. I asked if you wanna be. It's other positions."
"Um…" She glances at the hardwood floor beneath them, weighing her options. "Y-yeah. Yes, I do."
He shrugs, gently removing his hands from her to sit back. "A'ight then."
Carefully, she makes contact with the ground, her kneecaps pressing into the floor. Lengthy, strong legs cage her in, but it doesn't feel like a trap.
Before she has to ask, he's pushing his pants down some. But, of course, he's not going to do everything for her.
Not even when she stares up at him, expecting him to pull down his boxers, too, and whip it out for her. She looks perfect down there.
"What you staring for?"
She glances at his lap, eye-level with his print as it strains against the breathable fabric, pressed to the inner wall of his right thigh. She looks back up at him, like she expects something new. Like she doesn't know what comes next.
"Take it out for me, Ámerei."
The firm tone of his voice makes her stomach flutter.
Without a word, both her hands snake up the stalks of his calves, past his knees, and over his thighs. Her fingers are soft, the pads of them tickling his skin as she nears the object of her desire.
With a quick swipe of his tongue over his bottom lip, Onyankopon pushes his hips forward as she finally hooks onto the waistband of his underwear.
Inwardly, Ámerei prays that he doesn't notice the excited tremor of her hands as she pulls the fabric back to reach inside.
The skin there is warm, hot blood racing just beneath its surface to fatten up his dick. She traces one finger down to the middle of his shaft, where she weakly curls her hand around him. She barely squeezes as she picks him up, revealing just a little more past the fat tip.
She isn't surprised by the heaviness, but it does make her rethink her ability to swallow him down.
"Why you so focused already?"
His chuckle pulls her gaze upwards, seeing the entertained look on his face. She crumbles into awkward laughter. "I wanna make sure I'm doing it right."
"Ain't no wrong way to pull my dick out." He sniffs, shifting his hips in a way that pushes his dick further in her face. Her eyes slightly cross trying to keep him in her line of sight. "You doing good, Ami. Quit all that thinking, don't freeze up on me now."
His words, spoken to her low and slow, make her heart beat quicken. She nods loosely, staring up at him with eyes that don't conceal the dazed look in them.
Every time they're together, he notices that after a certain point, it's like a switch flips off in her head. It gets more noticeable every time.
Encouraged by him, she pulls him out of his boxers entirely. The familiar sight never fails to make her drool.
So thick in her hand, she runs her thumb over the web of veins pumping beneath his skin—more visible as it's pulled taut by his arousal. He isn't leaking yet, like his body is waiting on her touch. She can feel his pulse faintly. Tiffany blue acrylic nails compliment his deep brown skin as it fades from a blushing brown to a solid, deep umber.
Every moment she gets to witness him up close, Ámerei can't help but to think that he's just so … pretty.
She's always wanted to kiss it. To feel him throb against her lips.
Her thoughts are interrupted when there's a gentle squeeze of her jaw.
"Missed this shit, didn't you?"
She nods.
"Mhm," he hums, noting how she gazes at him with a renewed sense of hunger. "Go on, eat the dick up." He pulls his hand away.
Without a second thought, she leans forward and plants a gentle smooch on the fat head. He's hot against her skin. Even though she had imagined this happening, surprise takes her when he twitches against her. In her hand, he stiffens further.
A pleased hum leaves her. Tepid, she pushes her tongue past her lips to finally get a taste. His skin is silk soft on her taste buds. He has a mild taste, barely sweet.
That makes it too easy to have more of him in her mouth; she goes for another lick, this one bolder in action as she tastes more of the skin covering his crown. It was all she needed to gain the confidence to take him into her mouth, closing her lips around the swollen head.
"A natural, already," he exhales.
She peers up at him through those perfect, wispy lashes. Her mouth sinks slightly lower. The slippery muscle of her tongue curls around the tip before she traps him between the bed of it and the roof of her mouth to suck. Her usually round, soft cheeks hallow out.
"Good job, mama."
Her eyes flutter shut as her mouth sinks lower around him, a quiet hum of contentment coming from the back of her throat.
The ghost of a smirk haunts his lips. "You like that?"
Peeling her eyes open, Onyankopon immediately notices how they look glossed over. Her full lips are stretched around his thickness, unable to stop the drool escaping past their corners. With a stuffed mouth, she only nods.
"Talk to me."
For a moment, he thought she would have attempted to speak around him. The thought makes him twitch in her mouth.
Except, Ámerei pulls off of him, the softness of her hand replacing the wet heat of her mouth as she jerks him off.
"I liked it," she breathes out. Her hand moves at a slightly rushed pace, gliding over the tight skin. He keeps twitching. It makes her giddy, taking this as a good sign.
Yet, her elation is cut short when she sees a wrinkle forming between his brows. Dread takes seed in her chest.
"So, why you not swallowing my shit?"
Oh.
The corners of her lips twitch as she tries to keep herself from smiling. Her lips part. "Sorr—"
"I'm not tryma hear nothing when my dick should be in your throat." A heavy hand finds its way into her hair, firmly grasping it near the base of her skull. "Need to be gagging on my shit."
Her pussy clenches. She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, pushing her face closer to him. She tongue-kisses his tip, humming when it jumps in her mouth.
"Mhm … show me how much you want this."
She rests her hands on his thighs, descending onto him again. Her eyes squeeze shut as she pushes herself to go lower than previous. As she lowers, it gets harder to breathe, her mouth stretching wider and wider.
"Hurgh—"
She pushes through the gag that rips through her. Her head grows fuzzy at the feeling of the slow suffocation.
Onyankopon groans, "Fuck … open up." His hand grips her hair tighter. "Relax your throat."
He hits the back of her tongue. The muscles of her neck constrict.
"Aarck—"
Her shoulders hike up, another sharp gag moving through her.
"Easy, easy."
She pulls off, a beaded string of her own spit leading from the depths of her mouth to his dripping tip. Her stomach is turning.
"You good," he tells her, petting her head.
She nods, swallowing a loose glob of spit to calm her throat.
"C'mon, you good."
She considers the truth of his words before her own thoughts, taking him back in her mouth.
"Mmph," he moans, pressing his lips together to catch the sound.
His head rolls back, but before it lands against the couch cushion, it bounces back up. Her lips kiss the base of him, his hips jumping in shock.
"Huarc—"
"Shit, my fault, my fault."
His breathing is rushed and unsteady as he exhales through his nose, staring down at the mess she's making between his legs.
Spit pours almost freely down his dick, pooling into a thick, frothy puddle of her saliva and his precum in his lap.
"God … damn," he groans, tilting his head some, wishing he could take a picture of this moment to keep forever.
Her lips pucker around him, like they're desperately trying to keep anymore spit from inevitably leaking out. Like they're tired of being stretched open by his dick.
She looks so pretty like this.
"How you take it better this way?"
She sniffles weakly. As her mouth is still full of him, Ámerei gently rests her head against a thigh of his. Her lashes sweep against the hills of her cheekbones as her eyes flutter shut, a gentle sigh leaving through her nose.
"Hm?"
He reaches down to cup her chin, and as soon as their skin makes contact, those pretty brown eyes are open again. Just barely. They're glazed over, not present.
At that moment, something clicks within him. His brain runs with a prediction.
"Should fuck this like your pussy."
He watches her face for any twitch in her brows, some sign of objection. But, there's only a look of sedation. His hand slips from her jaw, he smooths his thumb over an eyebrow before pushing a rogue couple of strands of hair back.
She swallows around him again, closing her eyes.
"Aye, talk to me." Onyankopon lays two quick taps to her cheek, the action gaining her attention. "Ami. Make a sound or something."
A tiny whine comes from the back of her throat. He twitches in the chamber of his neck.
"Want me to move?"
She blinks slowly.
"A'ight," he whispers.
Gently, he takes her head in his hands and carefully pulls her off of him. Loose webs of spit and precum fall around his dick. He's a glistening mess as it falls against his inner thigh, heavy and sopping wet.
A couple of coughs and few hiccups leave her as she wipes at her face with the back of her hand. "W-what?"
"You enjoying this, I could see it in your face."
The corners of her lips lift without restraint.
"But, you gotta communicate with me. Don't go silent."
Just as fast, they drop into a frown, feeling that hint of dread again. "Okay," she nods.
"Even when your mouth is full like that, or you can't talk; tap me."
Her face scrunches up in mild confusion. "Tap?"
His hand slides over her shoulder, the tips of his fingers just at her back, and taps once. "Like that if you want me to pause. Twice if you good," he performing the second gesture. "And—" then taps her three times in succession, "—to tell me to stop."
She blinks at him, cementing the code in her head.
"How you feeling? Show me."
She lifts a hand to rest on his naked thigh and taps him twice.
"Good," he tells her. "Now c'mon."
She's too eager to get him back in her mouth, swallowing him up with blinding ease each time.
"Mhm, look at you… Like you starving."
She pushes her face against his thighs, smiling around his dick. And Onyankopon thinks it's the sweetest, sexiest thing ever. Holding the back of her head, the pads of his fingers rub into her skull.
"You want more?"
She nods as her tongue laves at the underside of him.
"S'what I thought," he mumbles before that hand of his moves to grip her jaw.
Pushing her head up just a bit, Onyankopon holds himself at the base to pull out, earning a deep gag from her. And he loves that sound.
He's dripping in her slobber. The head is where most of her spit collects, a web of it connected to her bottom lip.
Taking himself in hand, he rubs it like a wand and swabs it against her lips. The sloppy, uncoordinated push of his dick against her face makes her flinch here and there. But she doesn't pull away in the slightest when he smears their mess all over the lower half of her face.
His hand shifts to hook a thumb between her lips and push down.
"Open."
The hinge of her jaw slackens with ease.
"Stick that pretty tongue out."
She does exactly what he says, and within that second, the fat head of his dick is slapping against her taste buds.
"Mhm, look real good like this."
He can already imagine himself bursting on her tongue. He glances up from her mouth to see the stars in her glistening eyes.
"Should bust all over you right now," he rasps. "You want that?"
She nods eagerly, tongue sticking out of her mouth like a panting dog. The fruity hue of the muscle is too similar to the inside of her pussy.
"Suck it outta me, then. The fuck?"
He angles his hips to push back into her throat. The suction of her mouth is unmistakable, he knows she sucked him in. The feeling of that wet, slippery warmth traveling down his dick, swooping him up into a tight hold pulls a breathy moan out of him.
"Greedy ass … tryna suck me up, and I'm a-already giving it t'you—" He grasps the back of her head again as rolls his hips smooth and slow. "F … fuck," he groans out.
Her throat jumps around him, desperate to accommodate the moving length throughout it.
"Taking it real good, Princess."
Her eyes flutter, and he catches the way they slightly roll back before she blinks.
Too experienced, it doesn't take long for him to find a shallow but steady rhythm, picking up the pace. As his dick bullies its way in and out, past the walls of her tonsils, a faint clicking sound is made.
"You like this?"
His voice wavers, the sound shooting straight to her clit. Her hand that rests on his muscular thighs, rises and falls twice: one-two.
"I know … kn-know you do…"
His breathing grows heavier and heavier, balls tightening some as they tap at her chin with each thrust.
"Smartest girl I ever met … but you go fucking stupid when you got dick in your mouth."
A mewl vibrates in her throat. He looks down to see her eyes roll to the back of her head.
"You like me talking to you like that?"
One-two.
She's an image of corruption: one of her eyes is only half-open, both showcasing the whites of them as his dick pushes in-and-out past her lips. Spit oozes and froths up at the seams of her lips.
"L-look at you … blowing bubbles on my shit," he grunts. "You wanna play with your pussy?"
A moan, real and solid, gurgles from her throat. The air coming out of her mouth pushes out more balloons of spit along the rim of her mouth.
"Shit—go 'head."
Fireworks go off in her head at his given permission, like this moment is the kind of joy she's been waiting to experience for the last few years. Ámerei is quick to shove a hand down the front of her leggings, pushing past the hem of her panties to rub at her clit.
She feels like she's gone sky-high, completely relinquishing all control to him as he fucks her mouth good and thoroughly.
"S-said you could touch yourself … don't hold out on me."
His words kick something alive in her head. She begins to move herself, bobbing her head up and down. As she does so, she's only able to go halfway down at this faster speed.
Onyankopon's hips stutter. "Aye—watch the teeth. Watch the teeth, Ami."
She squeezes her eyes shut, making a conscious effort to tuck her lips over them. The change grants him unfettered access to her mouth, carving a way for itself in her throat.
"Oh … fuuck, keep … keep swallowing my shit, Mama."
Her fingers work in fast, tight circles over her clit. This is a wet dream for her.
"Make me nut," he pants, a bead of sweat rolling down his forehead.
At that, she shoves two fingers in herself, the intrusion creating a soft squidge between her thighs. At every swallow of his dick, she's pushing her fingers in. The penetration from both ends gets her sopping wet, the seat of her panties soaked through.
"Make me nut on that tongue."
At that particular command, she swallows him an inch deeper, a strong gag ripping through her.
"Mhm, just like that," he sneers as he moves his hips to meet her half-way.
Her eyes squeeze shut, wringing tears from them as she falls in-line with his thrusts. She keeps her head still, allowing him to throat fuck her, even as she chokes on him.
Hand buried in her hair, Onyankopon lets his head fall back against the couch, losing it in her mouth.
"Mh—fuck," he whimpers, chest pumping as he gulps down air. "I-I'm 'bout to cum."
She loves it when he says those words.
She pulls off of him messily, replacing her mouth with a loose fist. She moves quickly over his dick to uphold the pace. His hips buck, stomach sucking in with every pull.
"Want it," she utters breathlessly as spit drips from her face, tongue half sticking out to catch his cum just in case. "Want it—want it on my tongue, Ony."
He musters enough strength to pull his head back up, eyelids heavy as he gazes down at her: tears crystallize along her lash-line, looking like gems against her slender eyes.
His stomach swoops, his balls tightening.
"You …fuck—you gon' swallow it all?" he slurs.
"Mhm," she says, desperation all over her face as she nods. "A-all of it."
His other hand grips at the couch cushion beneath him as he holds back on cumming all over her face.
"Put my dick back in your mouth."
She chases after him with her mouth open, head bobbing awkwardly before finally catching him, without the help of her hands. Her cheeks cave in, pushing further down to get him to the back of her throat. She flexes around him, coaxing his impending orgasm out of him.
The simple action has his mind submitting to the desires of his body. His hips move thoughtlessly, unrestrained and sharp as they pump shallowly into her mouth.
"Fuc— … s-swallow that shit—"
"Hic—"
He busts in her mouth, the alkaline taste of his thick, viscous cum painting her tongue and throat. It's hard to swallow all of it down in one go.
"Oh … fuck," he shudders, chest rising and falling rather quickly as he swallows down whatever air is available. The exposed parts of his skin are dewy with sweat. Before his body is able to even fully relax, it tenses up with overstimulation.
She's still sucking.
"Aye—"
Grasping her head on both sides, he pulls her off. There's a bit of resistance, but when he finally gets her off of him, he sees in her eyes that she's completely gone.
"Tryna suck my soul out," he weakly jokes, though she doesn't laugh back. She only gives him a dreamy smile.
He grasps the underside of her jaw. "Lemme see."
Without a word, Ámerei sticks her tongue out to show him how she managed to swallow it all. He looks at her, knowing that she's desperately waiting for a form of praise for her work.
"Good job."
Her smile only grows.
"Come up," he says, already pulling her back up on the couch.
Scooting further back from him, she spreads her thighs to show him the darkened patch of gray fabric at the seat of her leggings.
His legs feel like Jell-O. Yet, despite this, he pushes through it to stand on his feet before her.
"That's how you feeling?"
She bites her bottom lip before turning away from him. Burying her chest into the couch cushions, Ámerei pushes her ass high in the air to present.
Looking back at him, the spit quickly drying on the lower-half of her face, she eagerly pushes her leggings and panties down her ass in one fell-swoop. Her back bows she reaches back to pull her cheeks apart, her wetness winking back at him. Creamy and dripping.
He kisses his teeth as another wave of arousal shoots through him, fatigue be damned. "Quit playing with me."
She mewls, eyes falling closed. "Want it in here, too," she mumbles thoughtlessly.
Blowing out a breath, Onyankopon takes his hardening dick in hand, starting with a few slow pumps.
"Yeah, dick really got you acting dumb now."
She shakes her ass side-to-side, taunting him.
"I'ma give it to you … just don't be running this time."
The body of 18 year old Nolan Xavier Wells has unfortunately been found after he went missing from Horn Island, Mississippi. Wells went boating with a group of boys — the rest of the party being white — on July 4th, but he was the only one who didn’t return to shore.
It is becoming increasingly dangerous to be the only black person in a group. Rest in peace, Nolan. You deserve justice.
Update:
I’ve found his family’s GoFundMe for his funeral and celebration of life expenses. This campaign was created by their family friend Allayah Denis and is the only campaign they have, all others are fraudulent. They haven’t reached their goal yet, and funeral expenses are an incredible burden, so if you have the means please consider donating.
In Loving Memory of Nolan Xavier Wells
Our hearts are broken beyond words.
… Allayah Denis needs your support for In Loving Memory of
As of right now there appears to be no investigation yet, but hopefully there will be soon. Mississippi representative Bennie G. Thompson has publicly urged authorities for an investigation on his social media. If you have any more information please let me know. I’ll put any further updates in a reblog.
*Alt text has now been added to the original images.
╰┈➤ "what?" smoke called out to you as he turned around. "you heard me" you tried your best not to seem intimidated by his sudden drop of tone as you stood in the middle of the room with your arm folded over your plump chest. "mama, don't start wit me" he replied chuckling as he walked passed you to the bedroom door, walking out and heading towards the bathroom. "i'm tired, okay? nigga been at work at since 6 this morning i don't have time to fight with you right now" he sighed.
"this the shit i be talking about" you "sneered" as you followed him into the bathroom. "what "shit" baby? i swear you always trying to argue cause you bored as fuck in this house, go get a hobby or sum" he huffed. "YOU! you're always walking away from everything like why can't you just handle the problem at hand?" you snapped, almost laughing as he looked at you like you were crazy.
" i know good in well you ain't just yell at me y/n....you getting beside yourself" he pointed a finger at you with a bitter chuckle. "i've always been like this babes, you just late to the party" you rolled your eyes.
he continued to stare at you as you can visibly see his patience for you is wearing thin as time passes. your words are finally breaking him and it's quite exciting as you felt moisture start to form downwards. you tried crossing your legs subtly but smoke caught onto it quick as he smirked before turning towards the shower and twisting the nob.
he did everything so silently after that and it honestly made you even more wet with a bit of nervousness as well. every time he does quiet like this, you know your legs aren't gonna be usable.
"you know what," he finally announced after the deadly silence. "i got something for you" he simply stated with no further explanation. you gulped as you built up the courage to point at him some more. "well, it's the least you can with that LITTLE dick of yours" you made sure to empathize the one word that would get him irritated.
your heart began to speed up as you anticipated for his reaction. smoke stopped what he was doing and turned towards you with furrowed eyebrows. "matter fact, stay in here and take off them clothes" he sternly asked as his jaw clenched.
you stood there stuck for a moment not knowing if you should listen to him or keep playing the game that you started. to be honest you were terrified for what treatment you're about to receive from your "attitude" towards him. "did you not hear what i just said woman? am i muted? are you deaf?" he questioned as he marched up towards you. "n-no" you shamelessly stuttered.
"then get yo ass out of them clothes and get in the shower wit me, aight?" he stared deep in your soul before huffing, turning around and started to take his clothes off one by one. you nervously shook as you reached for your top and slowly lifted it off your body.
soon, your bra was next, then your shorts, then your underwear went you were hesitant to take off due to your wetness making itself known as the slimy substance clung onto the fabric and your perfectly shaved pussy.
you subconsciously crossed your arms over your body as you watched him get into the shower. his manly back muscles were making themselves known. you took a deep breath before getting in after him. he didn't say anything to you as he used the body wash and loofa to clean his body.
you grabbed your own loofa and started to shower as well. a few minutes passed by and you were still nervous. him standing here with his back turned towards you under the shower as the water dripped down from his hair down to his brown skin.
he soon turned towards you, grabbed ahold of your waist with force as you slightly yelped in shock from the sudden aggression. "babe, my hair will get wet" you silently told him. "you think i care?" he rebutted, trailing his hands down from your waist to your hips before stopping at your ass to give you a harsh slap and soon turned you around forcefully.
you held onto the wall for support, you figured he wanted to fuck you in a certain position so you intentionally backed your ass up on him. "look at you, waiting to be fucked like the ho you is" he slapped your ass again watching as it jiggled from the force causing you to moan at the feeling. you can feel your slick trickle down your thighs.
"elijah, baby put it in" you whined backing your ass up on him again. "stop" he held onto your hips, forcing an arch in your back. "wasn't you just mad at me? huh? now you want this dick?" he grabbed his dick and slowly rubbed the tip up and down between your folds.
you moaned quite loudly as he dipped it into your hole a bit. his other hand kept an iron grip on your hip as he continued his torture. his dick getting wetter and wetter from your slick coating it. "wasn't you just saying how small my dick and now you aching for it?" he said in disbelief.
"i-i was joking baby please put it in, i need you" you cried out. "oh you was joking? yea let's see if it's a joke now" he remarked, plunging his dick into your hole using the hand that once held it towards your neck and began thrusting at a fast pace. your body jolted at each thrust. your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you moaned out his name.
"elijah~ you feel so good daddy" you whimpered as tried to keep your balance from his harsh thrusts. "yeah? i thought my dick was small though, you sure is taking it like a good ass slut" he grunted watching his dick disappear in and out of your hole. you bit your lip, pushing your ass onto him to meet his thrusts. soon your stomach began to tighten as you felt like you were about to cum.
"i-im about t-to cum~" you whimpered out. "yeah? do it slut" he slapped your ass and held tighter on your neck as tears began to pour down your cheeks from the overwhelming feeling. with a few more of his thrust you're fluids soon coated his dick as he continued to thrust into you making the substance form a ring around his veiny dick.
he pulled out just as he was about to cum as well. you tried catching your breath from the intense act that was taking place. "nah, we ain't done yet....get on them knees" he ordered. you weakly got onto your knees infront of him. "go ahead and suck it" you stared up at him before using both your hands to grab his dick.
you gave kitty licks to the tip before twirling your tongue around the slit, tasting his pre cum. he moaned as you finally placed his dick into your mouth. the warmth of you mouth caused him to roll his head back as he grabbed ahold of the back of your neck.
you bobbed your head up and down whilst using your hands to stroke the rest of his inches that didn't fit in your mouth. "fuck, keep sucking it like that" he moaned biting his lip. you looked at him through hooded eyes as you hallowed your cheeks and attempting to deep throat him.
he placed his hand that wasn't behind your neck onto ye wall to balance him as he felt light headed from the pleasure he was receiving. "i fucking love you, girl" you rolled his head back down to look at you. you fluttered your eyelashes as your slob coated his dick causing it to drip down your chin and his shaft. "you love me?" he questioned, his grip on your next tightening. you hummed.
"i want a verbal answer" he pulled you off. "yes, baby i love you so fucking much, you fuck me so good" you whined out as he only smirked before forcing you back onto his dick, throat fucking you. "that's what i like to hear" he grunted. you can feel his dick soon swelling up as his abused your throat. "shit, im boutta cum" he sped up his pace as your eyes squeezed shut as tears began to trickle down your face. your hands held onto his thighs for support.
a few more throats and his cum was soon shooting down your esophagus. the warm substance filled your mouth as you tried your best to swallow all of it. half it dripping down the sides of your mouth and onto the showers floor.
smoke chest heaved up and down heavily as he tried catching his breath. you pulled away from his dick and wiped your mouth before standing up with your weakened legs as if they weren't already weak from the last sex session.
"come here" he softly spoked. you leaned towards him as he gripped your chin and kissed you sloppily, adding tongue to taste you. you moaned into his mouth wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him closer.
smoke was the first to pull back as long strip of saliva connected between you two began to thin the more he backed up. "let's get cleaned up, yeah?" he asked as he grabbed his loaf again. you only nodded unable to speak, too scared that your voice would be gone.
after taking your second bath, you both laid down in bed with smoke massaging your feet as you two watched tv. "so, what was all that attitude about huh? you just wanted some dick or?" he broker the relaxing silence. "no, babe it was supposed to be a prank that i decided to play on you" you tried to laugh but your throat hurting wouldn't let you. now it was time for smoke to laugh.
"see? that's what you get for playing with me mama" he laughed as you squinted your eyes at him. "it's not funny, nobody told you to literally abuse my throat" you rolled your eyes. "man, you had it coming you know you liked it" he scoffed.
"so what if i didn't? what you gon do" you pushed your finger into the side of his temple. he only shook his head. "you know, you just can't stop huh? you like to get ruined" he smiled. his gold grills making themselves known. "yea but seeing you angry gets my wet so i can get whatever i want from you" you smugly replied.
“yea, you and my momma the only women i'll ever let get on my nerves" he stated. "yea, we better the only ones until we get a little me running around here" you smiled sweetly before kissing his lips slowly but passionately, biting his bottom lip.
"ouuuu girl what you tryna get into" he joked as he grabbed your waist, wrapping his arms sound around it before placing his head into your neck and started kissing your neck. you giggled as you tried pushing him off of you you wrapped your leg around his hip as you enjoyed the affection.
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