an. hey here's a on the whim Father's Day drabble. had to write for my baby daddy... also heard there was an only drought.
cw. i didn't proofread sorry... p in v cowgirl, reader and only are married with two daughters, also chubby reader was in mind when writing, uh I feel like this is pretty tame, creampie? slightly sub. ony, I just like men slightly submissive can you tell lol?
Onyankopon was the richest man on earth. Maybe not financially but spiritually? He was full. He had his dream career, two precious baby girls, and he had you. The one whoâs been with him through thick thin. The one that loved him at his lowest. The one that was willing to go through the trials of pregnancy and birthânot once, but twice. He doesnât know what heâd do without his family and heâd do anything for his girls.
So, when fatherâs day rolls around easily you go above and beyond for your beloved. Your two girls are more than eager to do things for their daddy who spoils them absolutely rotten. You guys started with breakfast in bed. Your daughters, doing their best to stay quiet while they helped you make breakfast. Later on, Ony hears hushed voices outside of the door but he pretends to still be asleepâlike he does every year. The door creaks open and he hears little footsteps and then the bed shifts under the weight of two little children.
âDaddy⌠Daddy, wake upâŚâ Arya, who is seven, whispers.
âYeah, wake up, Daddy,â Ayla, who is four, whispers after her older sister. Ony smiles before peeking one eye open. The girls squeal and giggle.
âHappy Fatherâs Day!â They exclaim in unison. Ayla plops down on him to give him a big hug while Arya showers his face with kisses. He chuckles deeply, taking the affection happily.
âThank you, babies,â He says with a grin. You stand there with the tray that has his breakfast on it. Watching him lovingly listen to your daughters yapping about the plans for the day fills you with a love thatâs so strong it makes your heart pound against your chest. You canât help but think about everything he does for your family. The sacrifices, the late nights, and the undying patience. You couldnât have picked a better man.Â
After a day full of fun activities, you come back home. The girls absolutely tuckered out. The usual bedtime routine is much easier with the girls so tired. Onyankopon kisses both of their foreheads, sweet and gentle. Ayla is seconds away from slumber, eyes fluttering shut.
âGoodnight, Daddy. Hope you had a good day,â Arya, mumbles before yawning. Onyankopon smiles big.
âI had a great day. Goodnight, love yaâll,â He replies, Ayla mumbles something incoherent. He chuckles as he quietly makes his exit and shuts the door. Youâre in the bedroom ready for bed. Well⌠ready for Ony. You canât let him end Fatherâs Day without his very deserved and final gift.
So, yes you push on his favorite nightgown you owned. Lilac, borderline sheer and loose in a way that leaves just enough for the imagination. So when he steps foot inside of your shared bedroom, he's pleasantly surprised to see his wife. Freshly showered and dressed in his favorite sleepwear (It could be considered lingerie in his eyes). âWhatâs the occasion, Baby?â He asks with a slight grin. Eyes gleaming like a kid in a candy store. You saunter your way over to him, hands sliding up his shoulders and back down to his chest.
âYouâre such a good daddy to our girls⌠thought youâd like another gift before bed,â You reply. You swear you hear him stifling giggles. He's so giddy.Â
âYeah? For me?â He asks, smiling wide and already starting to undress. You playfully roll your eyes. The way heâs acting, you would think he never gets any.
âYes, Onyankopon,â You chuckle, He pulls you in close.Â
âJust donât take this off,â He mumbles, tugging lightly on the fabric. You nod, feeling up his abs and chest before kissing your way down his neck. His hands circle your waist, gently squeezing before his ducks his head to kiss you deeply. He breaks the kiss. âYou know what else I want?â He asks and you hum leaning in for another kiss.
That gets you here, on top of him, riding him like your life depends on it. Ony is in paradise unable to take his eyes off of you. So pretty, tits bouncing underneath sheer fabric and your pussy squeezing snugly around his thick length. You both try to stifle your moans. Your pace only building and building.Â
âOh fuck, donât stop, baby. Riding my shit just right,â He groans as quietly as he can manage and you let out a choked whimper.
âYeah, you deserve it, daddy,â You reply, breathless and whiny. He groans louder, you shove your middle and ring finger in his mouth to muffle the sound. âShhh, gotta stay quiet, baby,â You mutter. He nods and sucks on your fingers. Laying back and taking what you give. Building him up and up until you feel the familiar twitch and his face screws up. âYou gonna cum? Do it, baby, cum inside me,â You encourage with a breathless moan. That he does spilling inside you, hot and thick. His hands hold your hips for dear life until you stop. You giggle as you watch him pant heavily around your fingers that you so gingerly pull out. You grace him with a gentle kiss and smile.
Summary: Connie and reader have been together for a while. Feeling pressure from his family Connie becomes nervous about his future with reader. Attending his cousin's wedding with reader as his date, he soon realizes his desires run deeper than his fear.
cw. dominican!connie, reader is sort of vague she's like that on purpose, mentions of marriage and having children, the smut stuff heheheđ¤, oral (fem. receiving), p in v, pull out method, mirror sex, connie speaks spanish but it is very dominican slang so it's not proper nor traditional!
an. ty mika for proofreading for me!!! also hey guys!!! hope you missed me! I am fulfilling my promises and getting these out! Please enjoyyyy!
You and Connie have been together for a solid four years. Which is a long time for two people who have known each other since middle school, got in a serious relationship once they went to college, and are very happy together. He had liked you back in middle school but didnât build the courage to ask you out until you were adults. It makes everyone that has ever known them wonder: When will they just get married already?
Honestly, you definitely want to get married and you want to marry Connie specifically. You werenât in a rush though. You were 22 and your career was just taking off. So you werenât rushing in the slightest. But⌠it did bother you that he never mentioned it. Whenever it came up in passing, or with friends he just kinda⌠clammed up and changed the topic. You were worried that your beloved boyfriend didnât want marriage. If he didnât, you werenât sure if you could take being a girlfriend for the rest of your life. So, you tell yourself youâre young and marriage scares young men and that once you guys are older heâll finally bring it up⌠Right?
Connie is a pussy. His family has told him plenty. He canât muster up the courage to even mention marriage to you. I mean he barely had the balls to ask you to be his girlfriend. Heâs a dork but he hides it well under being goofy and cocky. He talks such a big game and can never truly back it up. Every time heâs around family, they never fail to remind him.
âOh, Connie? ÂĄĂl es muy allantosa! (He talks a lot but does little!) Heâs too scared to propose,â His tio said once. Connie was sitting there. They still talked about him like he wasnât. âÂĄQue vaina!(How annoying!) I will never get my grandchildren at this rate!â His mother says that often he only rolls his eyes and tells everyone theyâre dramatic.
He knows he canât avoid it much longer. Heâs just afraid. Afraid to be too hasty or too slow. He never wants to scare you off with everything he wants for your guyâs future. So heâs waiting. Though today it seems he canât avoid the conversation any longer. His cousin is getting married. He was invited and you are his plus one. You noticed heâs been tense all day. Oddly orbiting you all day as you get ready and just being weird.
âConstance,â You say flatly as he practically hovers over you while you do your makeup. He seemingly snaps out of whatever trance he was in, locking eyes with you in the mirror.
âHuh?â He says, eyes slightly wide as if startled. You turn around to fully look at him. You really look at him trying to get him to fess up whatever has him acting so strange. He only pulls his lips flat to form a flat line. You grimace slightly at the awkwardness.
âPlease, go get dressed and leave me alone,â You say slowly. He nods quickly and walks away to do as told. You watch him for a minute before shaking your head and sighing. âWhat a weirdo,â You mumble to yourself.
The wedding ceremony is beautiful. Connie is acting more like himself. Not so rigid and nervous. By the reception you both are having the time of your lives. Eating good food, dancing and having a good time. His aunts, uncles, and cousin all say welcome you with open arms and warm kisses. They love you dearly and theyâre definitely not afraid to show it. Connie drags you to the dance floor for the nth time that night. Youâre a little tipsy after some drinks but you feel good swaying with him to the music. You smile up at him and he softens.
âYouâre beautiful, mi amol,â He says leaning close so that you hear him over the music. Your smile widens, and you place a soft kiss on his lips before pulling away. He looks at you and he swears he sees the future. You, in the most beautiful white dress walking down the aisle looking absolutely gorgeous. The two of you saying your vows promising an unconditional and undying love for eternity. Then years down the line having children and home that is not his, but yours. Together. Suddenly, proposing isnât so scary. He realizes truthfully he has nothing to fear, not when forever doesnât seem long enough with you.
When the two of you are finally home heâs on you. Hungry. Passionate. So much so you can barely keep up. Hurrying to kick your heels off as you giggle.Â
âConnie, baby⌠mmmph! Wait!â You giggle out between kisses. His hands grip your waist tightly not wanting you to pull away. Every kiss has an underlying taste of desperation. He grunts in acknowledgement, starting to kiss down your neck instead. You gasp softly. âWhat has gotten into you? Huh?â You question. He huffs, grabbing your wrist and guiding your hand to his bulge. Heated and throbbing against your palm, your eyes widen slightly. He lifts his head from the crook of your neck, biting his bottom lip. His eyes darkened by lust but softened by his love for you.
âI need you, mami⌠you feel that, right?â He practically whines. You nod. breath hitching. It should be a crime to look as sexy as he does right now. You gently squeeze his erection through his slacks. He tosses his head back and groans. He moves quickly, you blink and suddenly youâre tossed over his shoulder and being carried to the bedroom. He lays you flat on the bed, holding eye contact as he shrugs off his suit jacket. You squeeze your thighs together, unable to take the needy throb between them. He then loosens his tie and undoes the buttons on his shirt. Revealing his lean and toned body, you have to swallow down the moan at the very sight. He crawls back over you on the bed, staring hard before suddenly flipping you onto your stomach. You gasp.
âConnie-â You start but he cuts you off with a soft hush kissing along your shoulder, slowly unzipping your dress. He takes his time working the fabric off of your body. Left bare under his gaze in minutes that feels like hours. He grabs your hips, lifting them up until youâre presented to him properly.
âStay just like that, mami,â He murmurs, his hands running along your body. Then his lips start to plant open-mouthed kisses down your spine. Your back arches deeper as you whine. He stops once he reaches your tailbone spreading your apart to place a kiss on your glistening lower lips. âFucking soaked,â He sighs before licking from your clit to your entrance. He groans at the taste of your syrupy slickness and keeps eating like heâs never eaten before. All you can do is moan and whine at the pure ecstacy his tongue gives you. You reach back nails lightly scratching at his scalp. He groans against your core, sending vibrations through you that make you shudder.
âConnie, Baby,â You moan and he swats a hand down onto your ass. You yelp at the stinging sensation before melting at the pleasure. You could get lost in the swirl of his tongue, your eyes rolling back. But, he pulls away abruptly, the orgasm he was building up for you fizzling away. You whine in frustration.
âMami? MĂłntame la pura.â (Be honest with me.) He says adjusting you so that youâre facing the full length mirror that sits facing your bed. You nod looking at him through the mirror. He stares back at you, expression almost unreadable. âIf I proposed, like a year from now, would you say yes?â He asks you, undoing his belt and then rids himself of his slacks and boxers. He positions himself behind you, gripping the base of his dick rubbing the tip up and down your slit. You let out a small sound close to a whine but leaning towards a groan. He tsks at you, slapping himself against your pussy. âI asked you a question,â He mumbles, and you
 quickly nod.Â
âYes, baby! Of course I would!â You cry out, desperate and needy. He grins slowly pushing into the tight, wet, warmth that is your cunt. You gasp at the stretch, toes curling at how good it feels to have him inside of you. âOh fuck, Con!â
âYeah, you wanna get married?â He questions, starting with heavy yet steady thrusts. Your ass bounces off of his pelvis with every thrust.
âYes, baby!â You whine. He picks up the pace slightly draping himself over your back. His hand gripping your chin forcing you to look at yourself in the mirror.
âLook at my future wife. A fucking slut for her future husband, huh?â He talks dirty. You clench around him tightly. He groans. âOh fuck, you like that? You like being called my wife?â He asks, his thrusts becoming rougher and faster. You nod. He laughs breathlessly. âSay âYes, Papiâ say it to me,â He commands.
âYes, papiiii,â You whine, dragging every syllable. He pulls back to get better leverage. His hips meeting your ass with heavy smacks. It has you screaming, and clawing at the sheets. âFucking me so good, papi! I canât!â You squeal.
âYes, you can. You can take it, baby,â He grunts. Heâs working up a sweat, beads of it rolling down his temples. âFuck, canât wait to marry you. Gonna have six kids, mama⌠fucking white picket fence, ohhh shit,â He groans accent heavy as the thought alone has him nearing his release.
âUgh, Iâm gonna cum,â You groan and he nods. Reaching around to rub quick circles on your swollen clit. âConnie,â You whine.
âYeah, baby, cum for me. Cum on your future husband's dick,â He grunts and you listen orgasm hitting you so hard your vision whites out. Connie lets out a moan before his hips stutter and he swiftly pulls out. Stroking himself fast to paint your ass and lower back with thick, creamy streaks of cum. You collapse on yourself with a huff. You both pant heavily, before he leans over to kiss between your shoulder blades. âYou really wanna get married, mi amol?â He asks softly.
You nod and fucked out smile gracing your face. âOf course, I do. I donât want six kids though,â You giggle. Connie laughs against your skin. âIâm not joking, that's ridiculous!â You exclaim.
âOkay, five?â
âConnie,â You deadpan.
âFour? Three?â
âThree is fine.â
âOkay three,â He hums contently, kissing along your shoulder lovingly.
an. hey guys!!! i literally went beast mode on this fic⌠guess i missed writing for onyđ anyway enjoy and happy valentineâs day đ
cw. itâs a modern au! reader is romantically inexperienced! reader is kinda weird girl coded! reader is also lowkey a self insert gosh guys donât jump me! donât worry i tried to make it as broad as possible. some angst some fluff and some smut! ony is a soft dom! i donât make the rules guys. riding! pinv of course. unprotected sex. creampie. a little bit of spit play. like literally only a little. ony is a freak. and obsessed with his girlfriend. reader is slightly insecure. reader calls ony papa/pa during sex also I didn't properly proofread so if there's mistakes please pretend you don't see it
All of your life you hated Valentine's Day. In elementary, you were rather quiet, shy and quite frankly, you were weird. You were just awkward and you couldnât really fit in, relate to the other kids, or seem to grasp social cues like everyone else. So whenever your class had those cute little parties and everyone passed out those themed cards with a fun-sized treat, you always got the lamest card. For instance, in third grade a girl passed out barbie themed cards. While everyone got Barbie, Nikki, and Ken, you ended up with the Midge card. I mean, at eight and nine years old who the fuck liked midge? No one did. Not even yourself. So it really sucked when you came to the realization: you got everyoneâs least favorite character, you were probably everyoneâs least favorite classmate.
Then middle school came along. Probably the most brutal era. Despite the fact that by twelve years old you had managed to shed all the passiveness you once had as a child, your tween years still werenât the kindest to you. Everyone is kinda awkward at that age. On top of that, itâs like everyone is discovering romance. When you look back at that era as an adult, it was far from romantic. Just hand holding and awkward hugs that would have everyone losing their minds. Still, at that very fragile turning point of your life you wanted it all so badly. You had friends now and when Valentineâs Day rolled around, they all got something from a boy. All except for you. Granted, your whole friend group bought gifts for the group. You got plenty of gifts but you still had the same feeling from elementary: The Least Favorite.
In high school, that feeling shifted. Maybe because unlike in elementary and middle school, romance actually meant something and it also didnât start and stop on Valentineâs Day. There were school dances, and there was that crippling fear that if it didnât happen for you now, it would never happen at all. You recall âThe Shiftâ, it was your junior year and you were about sixteen. You had this friend who happened to be a boy. Not a big deal at all. He was kind and respectful and you both had a lot of common interests. It also helped that he was cute. Thatâs how the crush developed. You genuinely thought he also started to feel the same way. Lingering gazes, touches, smiles. It wasnât just you that noticed. Your friends noticed, his friends noticed. They would even tease the both of you and jokingly, youâd both gag and act like it was the grossest idea ever. With this crush and the confidence your friends gave you, you decided on Valentineâs Day you would ask him to be your valentine. If no one would come to you then youâd just go to them. Fuck gender norms and whatnot. So that day, right before school actually started, You had bought him his favorite candies and some niche collectibles that he was into as a gift. You confessed your feelings and asked him to be your valentine. He laughed. He laughed right in your face. He laughed so hard it felt like you were missing the punchline to the greatest joke of all time. You remember what he had said. It was so hurtful you could never forget it.
âSorry, [Y/N]. Iâm not into girls like you. Iâm not comfortable being friends if you have this crush on me. Itâs weird. Not trying to be mean, Iâm just telling you the truth,â It wasnât just the heartbreak of being rejected. It wasnât even the fact that you had lost him as a friend. It was the âIâm not into girls like you,â comment. What the hell did that even mean? Were you ugly? No, plenty of your friends thought you were pretty. Even strangers would give you random compliments in public. Plus, beauty is a social construct it always has been and you know that. So, no it couldnât be that. Were you too weird? I mean, he was not Mr. Popular by any means. He also could be awkward and thatâs why you guys were good friends. In those few minutes before the bell rang, you spiraled. You didnât cry until you got home. Your mom had asked you what was wrong. Something about a motherâs instinct. They always know even when you try to hide it. You burst into tears and sobbed like a baby for hours. That Valentineâs day, the feeling from elementary and middle school shifted into something much uglier: The Unlovable.
In your adulthood, you kinda gave up. You didnât look for love or attention from men. Occasionally, you had talking stages that went absolutely nowhere after the first date. Sometimes, they never even made it to the first date. College was horrid for this reason. It was like every man that approached you, played in your face. You felt maybe you should be grateful they even approached in the first place. Because these flings were always just flings and hookups, you had never been someoneâs valentine. Your entire life you wore that title: Unlovable. You genuinely thought that you were just never gonna experience that feeling that everyone else felt. No cute dates. No random bouquets. No sweet kisses. It just wasnât a part of your story.
Until Onyankopon came along. You met him at some campus function. You both happened to be standing next to each other when a fight broke out. It was straight chaos and security got involved. And at the exact same time you both muttered âThis shit is so ghetto,â then, you both looked at each other in shock before full on belly laughing. You had never seen each other up until that point. Yet, you guys laughed as if you were life long friends.
âYou looked at me like you didnât say the same shit,â He chuckled. He was so sexy. Tall, tatted, and handsome. His hair was cut in a low taper and his waves rippled smoothly. He had the brightest smile. He seemed somehow gentle and rough all at once. Just off of aura alone. His voice was deep. Thick, sweet, and warm like a spoonful of honey down a sore throat. He soothed the ache. You didnât know that after this little laugh, he would continue to remedy your sore heart.
âMind you, you looked at me too. You not shit,â You had laughed softly as he smiled at you. You were weak in the knees. You had sparked up a conversation with him. He was easy to talk to. Very charming and naturally flirty. He asked for your number by the end of the event. Then, you both started talking. You were so paranoid. Waiting for the day heâd disappear. The day heâd realize he just wasnât into you like that. The day when heâd find someone better, not so odd, inexperienced, bitter. That day never came. Heâd ask you to be his girlfriend after six months of talking and really he had asked before then. Multiple times actually, but you kept telling him you werenât ready. You were scared. You never had a boyfriend. What does being someoneâs girlfriend even look like? Ony was more than patient with you. Once you were his girlfriend, the patience didnât run out. When you got frustrated or upset about something and just didnât have the capacity to explain what you felt and why you were feeling it, heâd wait. When you took a long time to get ready, heâd wait. When you told him you didnât want to celebrate the first Valentineâs Day you guys were together, he waited.
Approaching a whole two years of being a couple, Onyankopon was not hearing your shit this Valentineâs Day. It was probably a month before, you both were cuddled up and he had absentmindedly asked you why you didnât like Valentineâs Day. Which ended up in the longest vent session where you told him everything. You had said something so heartbreaking, Ony had to take a few deep breaths to not cry for his poor baby.
âI just thought you would eventually leave. I didnât want my first Valentineâs day to be with someone who would realize that Iâm unlovable,â You said that with a shrug, like it was inevitable. Ony had made up his mind. He was proving he wasnât going anywhere and he was going to give you the best Valentineâs Day experience ever. You deserved it. After you had finally warmed up into being his, you became the love of his life. You were sweet to him, a great listener, and you just fit with him. Ony likes to think you were his missing rib. He was certain he was gonna marry you one day. You were it for him. Through and through.
That day finally approaches. You had spent the night at Onyâs apartment as per his request. You woke up to the soft sound of R&B playing from one of his speakers and you sigh. Youâre not really a morning person but Onyankopon, dreadfully, is. He can wake up and be out of the bed in seconds, all happy and yapping your ear off while youâre struggling to keep your eyes open. You force yourself out of his bed and pad your way to his kitchen. You rub sleep out of your eyes while standing in the entryway to the kitchen. Ony is singing and dancing to âNothing Even Mattersâ by Lauryn Hill and DâAngelo. You smile as you watch him. Heâs shirtless, sweats hanging low on his hips, his back to you as he stands at the stove, swaying to the smooth, slow melody. His back muscles flex and stretch with every movement. Whatever heâs cooking smells good and his singing isnât horrendous which means heâs locked in and definitely not goofing around. You stand there for maybe a good minute before he turns around. Your smile widens as he chuckles.
âYo, Your little sneaky ass scared the fuck out of me,â He says, sauntering over to you to kiss all over your face. You giggle and wrap your arms around his waist. He goes to kiss your lips but you block him with your palm to his puckered lips. He pulls back with an offended frown.
âOny, I have morning breath,â You mumble groggily, still smiling as he rolls his eyes.
âGirl, Iâd wear your morning breath like cologne if I could,â He grins. You gag.
âYouâre a fucking freak,â You scoff, face scrunching with disgust.
âOnly for you, fat butt,â He retorts. You shove him off of you with a giggle. He laughs before quickly turning to look at the stove. âYou about to make me burn breakfast,â He complains, you roll your eyes at his antics.
âWhy are you making breakfast anyway? I couldâve made something or we couldâve ordered in-â He cuts you off without even looking at you.
âYou questioning a nigga now?â He asks. Your eyes narrow at his back. He has effectively shut you up. It annoys you how he reminds you that you can trust him. Itâs sort of dominant in the most quiet and gentle way. Because heâs right. You never question Onyankopon. Not because itâs some rule, but because everything heâs ever done for you has always been in your best interest. So youâre quiet for a few seconds. âItâs Valentineâs Day. I planned a whole day for us,â He says it so nonchalantly. Itâs firm like you canât argue against it. You have mixed feelings. Youâre happy, you really are. Itâs just that same feeling that has followed you around returns. You think of the worst possible outcome. A bad fight breaks out over a little disagreement, he gets you all the wrong gifts proving he absolutely knows nothing about you, or he takes you to dinner and flirts with the waitress. He notices your silence and looks back at you over his shoulder. He sees that blank stare you have when you start thinking too much and he grunts. Not annoyed with you. Never. But frustrated that you canât enjoy this because of the bad encounters youâve had with romance. âCut that out. I got you. Go get ready so you can go get your nails done,â He says, stern and sweet all at once. You nod and you get ready for your day.
The entire day, Ony treats you like a princess. Spoiling more than he ever has before. You get your nails done while he goes to run âerrandsâ as he called it. When he came back to pick you up, in the passenger seat sat a gorgeous arrangement of your favorite flowers. You frown and whine at how pretty it is and he smiles, satisfied with your reaction.
âOny, these are so pretty!â You huff out picking up the rather large bouquet to carefully touch the soft petals. He hums.
âAll your favorites, right? I didnât miss any?â He questions and you quickly shake your head. You look at him and smile so brightly his heart skips several beats. âGood,â He mumbles, before having to look away. Seeing you so happy has his heart beating hard. Rattling his chest and making his ribs hurt. âCome on, our day ainât over yet,â He chuckles softly. You eagerly get in his car. Any weariness you felt before completely fading away.
Ony took you to an aquarium, to dinner, then back to his apartment. The entire adventure was fun and chill, not overly fancy or extravagant, just as you liked. You gasp when his living room is decorated with balloons and heart shaped confetti and more gifts sit waiting for you to open. Everything is red and pink and covered in hearts. It's so cheesy but so sweet. This is just icing on the cake. Today was honestly perfect and Onyankopon did it all for you. Because he loves you. He knew all your favorite places and things. He knew all your quirks and insecurities. He knew your heart and soul. It overwhelmed you.
âOnyâŚâ You whimper before turning to hug him tight and sob into his chest. He chuckles and a large hand cradles the back of your head as support and comfort.
âBaby, donât cry. You didnât even open the gifts yet,â He continues to chuckle, kissing the top of your head. You sniffle hard and pout up at him. His smile is as tender as his gaze.
âI feel so bad. I didnât get you anything,â You say, wiping away your tears. Onyankopon laughs, deep and rich.
âThatâs okay, mama. I wasnât expecting anything. Didn't want anything either,â He says with a smile. You nod and chuckle.
âNext year,â You promise and his smile only gets wider as he nods in agreement.
-
After opening every single gift Ony got you, each gift something you love. The night gets quiet. A few sweet pecks turn into heated lingering kisses which lead straight to the bedroom. Clothes are shed away and youâre skin to skin, breaths mingling in hot heavy passion. Ony lays back and you donât hesitate to climb on top. Your legs straddle his hips and you grind your soaked heat back and forth on his thick shaft. He lets out a deep groan, his large hands sliding up your soft skin before dragging back down to grip your hips. Your hands planted firmly on his chest you let out a whiney sound that makes his cock throb between your sticky folds.
âFuck, you so wet, baby. Thatâs all for me?â He questions, slightly breathless. You nod eagerly, lost in the pleasurable drag of your clit against his hard length and he grunts. His hand comes down on your ass with a resounding smack. You yelp, hips stuttering. The sting has you whining and clenching around nothing. âYou know better, use your words,â He tuts, as if disappointed. A pout pulls at your bottom lip.
âYes, Ony! Iâm all wet for you,â You whine, grinding down harder, soaking his dick in your slick arousal. He groans before pulling you into a deep kiss. His tongue swirling around yours. You lift your hips gently guiding his dick to line up with your eager slit. âCan I, pa?â You ask, plump lips barely pulling away from him. He nods.Â
âYeah, lemme watch you take this dick,â He mumbles. You donât hesitate to sink down on his large cock. You gasp at the stretch, you donât think youâll ever get used to the initial stretch. âFuck, so tight,â Ony hisses as you slowly sink down to the hilt. You whine, feeling so full, tears well in your eyes.Â
Itâs only a few minutes later when you find a good rhythm that has you making the sweetest noises. Youâre soaking wet and coating his dick in thick cream. Your walls are squeezing him so tight, he canât help the praise and encouragement that tumbles from his lips. He only eggs you on, turning you on and driving you crazy. His hand comes up to cradle your face. His thumb rubs your bottom lip, you moan before sucking his thumb into your mouth.
âShit, look at you. You're making such a mess on my dick. So good for me, pretty,â He sings your praises as you moan and whine around his thumb. He pulls his thumb out to rub at your swollen clit. You cry out completely folding from the pleasure. He uses his free hand to grip your ass cheek, to keep you bouncing on his length.
âPapa, fuck me!â You whine before kissing him filthily. Your brain is mush from the electric shocks of pleasure that travel up your spine. You canât think straight. So you canât stop yourself from pulling back from the kiss to purse your lips and spit in his mouth. The groan he lets out is pornographic. The freak that Onyankopon is, you're really not that surprised that heâs into it. You feel him twitch inside of your snug walls as he swallows. His grip on your ass is bordering on painful as he plants his feet on the mattress to snap his hips up in the most brutal thrusts that have you squealing.
âYou so fucking nasty. Fucking love that shit. I fucking love you,â He grunts, every word punctuated by a punishing thrust. The sound of the headboard of his bed post slamming into the wall, the clap of wet skin on skin and your high pitched sounds of pleasure fill the room.
âIâm cumming, pa!â You moan, back arching, toes curling, and your eyes rolling back. You feel the coil in your lower stomach tighten, tighter and tighter. Until, it snaps. You orgasm so hard your vision whites out. Walls milking him so good he follows you right over the edge only a second later. Filling you up with his warm sticky seed with a strained groan
âFuck,â He grunts. It takes a few seconds for you to come back to yourself and you both make eye contact and laugh. âI never want to hear you call me a freak again. Little freaky ass,â He laughs and you huff.Â
âShut up, you're still a freak. You liked it,â You giggle.
âDamn right. I loved it,â He says with the proudest grin. You laugh, rolling your eyes at his antics.
Later that night, you both lay cuddled up in bed. All clean thanks to Ony insisting on taking a shower together. You lay on his chest listening to his heartbeat. The tip of his fingers run soothingly up and down your back.
âThank you for today, Ony. I really enjoyed myself,â You say softly, pressing a kiss on his pec. He smiles softly.
âAnything for you, baby,â He says with such earnest warmth, it makes you melt.
âI love you, Ony,â You say softly.
âI love you too, [Y/N],â He mumbles, wrapping his thick muscled arm around you tighter. âAnd Happy Valentineâs Day,â he added. You smile to yourself. This Valentineâs day you wear a new title: Loved By Onyankopon.
this is my own original works do not copy or feed into ai
an. this is for my baby Mika!!! It's her birthday and she was also the one who gave the idea to write this! I swear she's turning me into a Jean girlie lmaoo. but happy birthday boo @aizawash0e
cw. reader has locs(i never see that in fics),shy!reader, southern!reader, southern!jean, farmhand!jean, reader is a virgin so... cherry popping lol, p in v, oral(fem. receiving), jean is a thot, condomless sex(never condone that irl), MDNI 18+
âYou better leave that boy alone, [Y/N],â Your father had said when he caught you staring at the farmhand. Jean Kirstein. That boy had a reputation. Known for his handsomeness and southern charm. He had women throwing themselves at him left and right and he had no problem taking advantage of that. In the small, conservative town you lived in, being promiscuous was something heavily frowned upon and Jean was the embodiment of promiscuity. Your daddy was strict. All your life youâve been holed up in this ranch. Only ever leaving for school and now that you're an adult and still helping out your daddy, you only leave for market runs and other errands. Being sheltered became a problem. Youâre grown now, and grown women notice a man like Jean. And so what if it bothers your dad? You both will be fine. Yet still, you feel the need to hide your attraction to Jean. You tell yourself that itâs to keep your daddyâs mouth shut.
âIâm not even thinking about him, Daddy,â You huff, going back to picking apples. Trying to make yourself look busy. Your father doesnât totally believe you, but for his own sake he lets it go with a hum before heading inside.
Once your dad is out of sight, you glance back at the stables where Jean is moving bales of hay. His muscles flex as he neatly stacks the bales. His white wifebeater sheer from him sweating so much. Every ridge and curve of his abs obscenely on display. Youâve never seen anything like it. Heâs so masculine you just canât look away. You hurry to finish picking the apples. You head inside to the kitchen, set the basket of apples on the counter, make a pitcher of ice water and grab a glass. You have to interact with him. Even if itâs as simple as giving him a glass of water. Before walking out the door, you double check yourself. Your locs are in two braided plaits and your favorite sundress you sewed yourself is draped nicely over your curves. You nod to yourself before heading outside.
You walk towards the stables, the pitcher and glass in hand. Jean sees you coming and grins to himself. Your little crush on him is so obvious. Itâs cute and he likes the attention, especially from you. Youâre a sight for sure and heâd be a fool to not see it. He just knows your dad would get his shotgun if he found out that Jean even looked at you. You were forbidden, and Jean liked that more than he should.
âThat for me, Sweetpea?â Jeans questions smoothly with a lazy grin. You smile at him, bright and warm, and nod. You pour him the water and give him the glass. He takes it from you with a soft thank you. He takes large gulps of the ice water, his Adam's apple bobbing with each swallow. You watch in awe. Heâs just effortlessly handsome. From his shaggy brown hair to his scruffy yet neat facial hair. His flirty eyes and kissable lips. His charming smile. You were obsessed. A droplet of water escapes the corner of his mouth. You watch as it runs down the sharp line of his jaw to his chin before he wipes it away. He smirks as you stare at him, caught in a trance. âSweetpea, you okay?â He asks, waving a hand in front of your face. You blink rapidly as you come back to yourself.
âIâm fine,â You squeak out, pouring him more water. He grins only wanting to tease you more.
âYou sure? You seem flustered. Maybe itâs the heat,â He says and before you can protest he takes off his cowboy hat and places it on top of your head. You blink and his glass is pressed against your lips. âSip,â He commands, not harsh but still strict enough that you immediately take a sip of the cool water as he tilts the glass. He holds eye contact with you, biting his bottom lip as he stares. Your stomach fills with butterflies and you canât look away. He hums and grins. âBetter?â He questions, pulling the glass away from your lips. Internally, youâre freaking out because youâre pretty sure that was an indirect kiss.Â
But you nod, softly smiling as you whisper a quiet âYes,â He smiles back at you. Thereâs a pause, everything goes still and quiet as you both stare at each other. You wonder if he feels it. That pull and fluttering feeling you always feel when you see him. You want to say something. You want to smash your lips against his like in the cheesy romcoms that have become your guilty pleasure. You canât move though. Itâs like youâre stuck in this quiet with him. He doesnât seem to mind it. He just keeps staring at you with that boyish smile. Finally, you will yourself to say something. As soon as your lips part though, youâre interrupted by your father calling you from the house. You flinch before quickly turning to look. You see him standing on the porch and you swear you can feel his glare.
âComing, Daddy!â You call back, quickly taking off Jeanâs hat, basically shoving it into his chest and taking the glass from him. Gripping both the pitcher and glass tightly, you move swiftly back to the house. Jean clutches his hat to his chest as he watches you with amusement before getting back to work.
-
You had slowly but surely learned how to sneak around to be with Jean. Jean liked you following him around like an eager puppy while he did work around the ranch. You talk and talk, and he just listens as he works. He flirts with you during his breaks and enjoys watching you squirm and grow flustered. Youâve even started baking sweet treats for him. He finds you unbelievably sweet.
Today, you made sure to complete every task and chore that needed to be done at home before grabbing the basket full of cookies you baked for Jean. You double check to see that your daddy isnât looking for you before heading outside to find Jean. You head over to the stables where you find Jean working on something outside on a ladder.Â
âHi, Jean,â You say, craning your neck to look up at him. He doesnât have to turn around to know itâs you.
âHey, Sweetpea. You got more treats for me?â He questions. Heâs focused, his jeans dirty and the toolbelt heâs wearing makes his waistband sag a little on his hips. The waistband of his boxers showing. You find it a little erotic so you look away.
âYeah, I did. I made cookies this time,â You say, staring down at the grass. He hums before starting to climb down the ladder. Once he's down, he turns to you and wipes his hands on his jeans. He smiles as he takes in your appearance. A casual soft blue maiden dress, your locs down, with a scarf the same color of your dress wrapped around your head. Your lips are glossy with your favorite lip combo. Your brown skin glowing in the sunlight.
âYou look as sweet as these cookies, Darling,â Jean says, taking your hand to spin you around.
âThank you,â You giggle. His smile only widens. You offer him the basket. He eagerly takes one and bites into it. He groans as the sweet, soft cookie hits his tongue.
âSweetpea, I swear these damn cookies are magical,â He mumbles, shaking his head as he chews as if the flavors have offended him.
âThat good?â You ask. He only nods, already grabbing another cookie before he even finishes the first one.
âYouâre distracting me. I gotta finish fixing this,â He sighs, hurrying to finish the cookies in big bites. When heâs done, he climbs up the ladder and continues on whatever he was doing before. You sit down and watch him. Youâre quiet today not having anything to talk about. You just bask in his presence, enjoying every second you get to spend with him.
 A few hours pass before Jean finishes. You hear him let out a breath making you look up. He gets a few steps down the ladder before his foot misses the next step causing him to fall. He lands on his back with a thud, knocking the wind out of himself. He wheezes and you gasp before scrambling towards him.
âJean? Are you okay?â You question, helping him sit up. He nods trying to regulate his breathing. Youâre worried, checking and making sure he didn't bust his head open.
âIâm fine, Sweetpea. It wasnât that far of a fall,â He reassures despite being slightly breathless. You stand, helping him stand up as well.
âCome on, let me make sure youâre not concussed,â You say, guiding him towards the house. He follows, but not without reassuring you that he feels fine. Still, the two of you end up inside. You grab an icepack and give it to him. He holds it to the back of his head as you check him for any possible injuries. He chuckles at your concern and you look up at him. âWhat?â You question, eyebrows furrowing with confusion.
âNothing, youâre just real cute, [Y/N],â He drawls with that signature smirk. You chuckle softly, a little dismissive. Jeanâs smirk widens to a charming smile. âDonât laugh, Iâm serious. Youâre beautiful,â He says. You shake your head.
âYou mustâve hit your head pretty hard,â You tease, he laughs, low and smooth. It makes your heart sing.
âIâve always thought you were beautiful⌠since high school,â He says the last part with a softness that makes you want to swoon. He might as well have hearts in his eyes with the way he looks at you.
âYou⌠noticed me in high school?â You ask. He nods without hesitation. You shake your head in disbelief. âBut you-â
âSlept around a lot? Yeah, I know. I let the attention get to my head.â He pauses. You see him thinking. His leg bounces as if heâs anxious but the rest of his body language doesnât give him away. âSweetpea, after being around you for some time. I realized that I'm real fond of you⌠in a way I've never experienced before. I never had to sleep with you to realize that I wanted you. Sure, youâre beautiful⌠sexy even. Iâve always thought that. But youâre so much more and I want to know all of that more⌠if you let me,â He confesses. Your eyes are wide in shock. You hadnât expected the confession. You donât know what to say, your heart is beating so fast. You canât help it. You let yourself have your cheesy romcom moment and you kiss him. A gentle yet firm press of your lips against his.Â
Youâre excited, thrilled that this is happening. Jean drops the icepack and grabs you by the waist to pull you onto his lap. You gasp and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, deepening the kiss. He adjusts, laying you down gently on the couch. His lips trail kisses down your neck and you moan softly. Your hands find his shoulders pushing his back slightly. He looks down at you slightly panting.
âMy daddy. He could walk in here at any moment,â You whisper. Jean lets out a sigh. Heâs not annoyed, just impatient.
âSweetpea, Iâve been tiptoeing around your old man long enough. I donât give a damn what he sees,â Jean mumbles. You canât argue with that, but you still hesitate. Jean notices, so he cups your face in his large, calloused hands. âI promise to be quiet. What he doesnât know wonât kill him,â He reassures, you nod. This is your chance and opportunity to do something rebellious. To do something that you actually want. Not whatâs expected of you.
âOkay, I just have never done this before,â You admit with a small sigh. Jean smirks.
âWhat? Never had sex while your daddy was home?â He questions, a devious chuckle rumbling from his chest. You place your hand on his chest and look up at him. Youâre serious as you repeat yourself.
âJean, Iâve never done this before,â His face falls before his eyes widen.
âOh,â
âYeah,â
âYou sure you want to⌠I can wait a little longer, Sweetpea. I just donât wanna rush. Maybe I should take you on a proper date firstâŚâ
âAre you⌠nervous?â You question with a soft laugh. Jean scoffs.
âWhat? No, I just⌠am being considerate, Darling. Letâs at least do this in your bedroom,â He says. You grin.
âYou were just saying youâve been waiting too long,â He sighs at that.
âThat was before you told me you were a virgin. Iâm not taking you on the couch, Sweetpea,â He says firmly. You playfully roll your eyes before sitting up. You lead him to your room and you realize this is really about to happen. Jean seems calm though, his expression unreadable as he stares you down. âYouâre absolutely sure you want to do this, Sweetpea?â He asks, stepping closer to you. His large, calloused hand cups your cheek, his thumb caressing your skin. You nod but, thatâs not good enough for him. âUse your words, Baby,â He drawls, his voice deeper, huskier, and embarrassingly sexy.
âYes, Iâm sure,â You reply, feeling the atmosphere around you change. His energy is different, you canât quite put words to the shift. He slowly kisses you, taking his time. You hum softly against his lips, following his lead. He pulls you closer with his free hand on your waist. Youâre basically melting in his hands. He smirks against your lips then starts trailing kisses down your neck. He starts nipping and sucking on your skin. You let out a soft moan. Jean only gets hungrier. Every kiss, every bite, growing more passionate.
âFuck, I need you, Sweetpea. You got me fucking starving,â He groans, his hands all over you. âCan I? Lemme taste you. I promise youâll love it,â He whispers, desperation bleeding into every word. You can only nod, panting softly as he slowly works your dress off of your body. The fabric falls and Jean groans. âSo fucking beautiful,â He mumbles, quickly tugging his shirt off and guiding you to lay on your bed. Youâre in awe of him like this. Something about the fact that he finds you so appetizing is so arousing. He kisses down your body. His kisses are soft and openmouthed until he reaches your cunt. He pulls back slightly to spread your legs properly and he gasps. You panic a little at the sound, thinking something is wrong.
âWhat?â You ask, looking down at him between your legs. His eyes never leave your pussy and he doesnât answer you right away. He only locks eyes with you as he licks a slow stripe from your entrance to your clit. You moan, your back arching.
âSheâs pretty,â Is all he says before completely diving in. His tongue slowly swirls around your sensitive clit. Your body shudders as you whimper. Your fingers tangle in his hair softly tugging on his strands.
âJean,â You whimper, the pleasure is overwhelming. Itâs nothing youâve ever felt yourself. Itâs so much better. His tongue works your swollen bud like the most precious pearl. So precise and gentle. âFuck, I canât,â You whine rolling your hips against his face. He lets you whine and writhe a little before soothing you.
âShhhh, yes, you can, Sweetpea. Lemme make you feel good,â He mumbles right against your cunt. The vibrations from his voice humming against your clit making your thighs tense and twitch. He chuckles and sucks your clit into his mouth.
âFuck!â You cry out. He sucks and laps at your clit before rubbing his middle finger up and down your entrance. Your body jerks and trembles as you whine and moan. Your brain melting until youâre a babbling mess.
âI know, Sweetpea,â He coos soothingly. He finally pushes his middle finger inside of you. Your walls, tight and slick around his digit. He sucks on your clit a little harder to distract you from the stretch of adding his ring finger.
âPlease,â You whimper, unsure what you're pleading for but knowing you need it. He somehow knows too, because he slowly thrusts his fingers in and out of your cunt while his tongue flicks your clit. Your grip on his hair tightens. Jean lets out a groan, his fingers searching and searching until⌠âOh fuck!â You scream. His fingers find your sweet spot. He grins at your reaction and focuses on that spot that has you seeing stars. Youâre dripping down his fingers, babbling and whining loudly. Your legs tremble as he sucks on your clit again. His fingers still massage your spot. You feel it, the coil in your lower stomach growing tighter and tighter. Itâs so much more intense. Like you might burst from the pleasure. You just canât hold it. You unravel, your entire being trembling as you cry out. Jean moans detaching his mouth from your clit and letting you ride out your high with his fingers.
âLook at you, Sweetpea⌠such a good girl,â He praises. Your hands fall to your sides as you pant. You're sprawled beneath him. He chuckles, carefully pulling out his fingers. âYou okay?â He asks leaning up to kiss you. You nod as he pulls away.
âIâm fine,â you rasp out.
âYou want to keep going?â He asks his hands rubbing up and down your waist soothingly. You nod quickly. âWords, Sweetpea,â He reminds you. You smile a little.
âYes, I want to,â You respond with a small giggle. At that he stands undoing his belt and jeans. They fall with a soft clink and thud. He pulls his boxers off and your eyes widen. His dick springs free. Heâs hard, his tip flushed pink and glistening from leaking precum. Heâs big, thick and at least eight inches. If he notices your stare he doesnât say anything. Only climbing onto the bed with you, hovering over you again. His hands grab the plushness of your thighs and guide your legs to wrap around his waist. His lips find yours again. You sigh into the kiss immediately relaxing. His tongue pushes into your mouth and you moan.
âBeen dreaming about this,â He mumbles, parting from you only slightly to grip the base of his cock. He drags his tip through your folds slowly, groaning lowly. You whimper and Jean just canât take it. Heâs trembling, trying his damn hardest to be patient. Reminding himself over and over what you mean to him. How he wants to make this special, not just some hookup.
âJean,â You huff. His eyes snap open. He hadnât realized he had closed them. âHurry up, please,â You say. He chuckles a little.
âOkay,â He breathes, pressing a lingering kiss on your forehead as he slowly starts to push into your wet, tight heat. He moans. A slightly pathetic sound but youâre too wrapped up in the burning stretch of his dick to make fun of him for it. He stops about halfway to let you adjust. His thumb finds your clit to rub slow circles on it, soothing whatever discomfort you feel. You whine.
âJean,â Your voice is breathless. His free hand cups your cheek. He makes you look at him. His eyes are intense. Heâs captivating.
âBreathe, baby,â He mutters before rolling his hips slowly. His thrusts get deeper and deeper until he bottoms out. Youâre gasping, He feels so deep inside of you, like you can feel him in your stomach. His hips donât stop. You canât stop whimpering. Eventually, your whimpers turn into moans and his grinding turns into pounding thrusts. Your hands all over each other, bodies moving together as if you were one. Itâs hot, intimate. Too much yet, not enough all at once.
âSo good⌠fuck,â You sob. His eyes stay glued to where youâre connected. You're creaming all over his shaft. Itâs filthy and he just canât stop looking. Both of you lost track of how long youâve been at it. It doesnât matter, neither of you want this pleasure to end. Heâs sweating, giving his all, and you take it greedily.
âSuch a good girl, look at this pussy taking me. She loves it,â He growls. His hand tangles in your locs and he supports your head so you can watch. You whine, Your walls clenching tighter. His thrusts get rougher, chasing the pleasure. âFuck, you like that, Baby?â He grunts.
âYes! Yes, I love it, Jean!â You cry out, your toes curling from the pleasure. His thumb finds your clit again and he rubs it in quick circles, wanting to push you towards the edge. Before you know it, tears well in your eyes. You're so close to that powerful release you can taste it.
âCum for me, Sweetpea. Been so good for me. You can do it, Baby,â He encourages, his thrusts grow sloppy. Heâs getting closer and closer to his own release. You sob, tears rolling down your cheeks. Your orgasm washes over you and you scream. Your walls milk him for all heâs worth as your body trembles. Your orgasm is so intense your ears ring. After one last stuttering thrust, Jean pulls out, stroking himself swiftly as he groans, his cum painting your stomach in warm, sticky ropes. You both pant as you come down. He leans down to peck your lips, using his clean hand to wipe your tears.
âYou okay, Sweetpea?â He whispers, you nod and kiss him back. He smiles. âI still want to take you on a date,â He says with that signature boyish grin. You laugh softly.
âOkay, Jean,â You say, unable to stop smiling at him. He chuckles softly stroking your cheek before getting up to get something to clean up with. He returns with a wet washcloth. He wipes you down gently.
âCome on before your daddy starts searching for us. Heâs gonna find us like this and shoot my assâ Jean chuckles, helping you up. You both get dressed. Sharing giggles and soft kisses the whole time. Heading downstairs Jean goes out to go back to work. You hear your father yelling at Jean about going missing for some hours. You and Jean share a knowing look as you pass by, continuing on like it never happened.
so um writing account got hacked if you get a message from me itâs not me!!! REPEAT JELLYWRITES1218 is not me rn im trying to get my account back so donât click on anything guys!!!
@jellywrites1218 is not mine currently iâm saying it again just in case
brooooo iâm so upset, i come back to work to see someone hacked one of my moots accounts!! wtfff this is her second acc @injellyfish1218 im so done with these fuck ass hackers and i realized someone else who i was moots with got hacked and they had to make a sepearte account!! and the hacked acc tried to hack me saying âoh sorry i reported your account by accident i didnât mean tooâŚâ some complete BS and sent me some link and pictures i immediately recognized that it was a hacker and blocked them.
i need her to get her account back!! i am going to make a diff account just in case now
HEY BOOS! i made a post on my writing blog but i think i might be shadow banned or something from the hacking lolđ it hasnât gotten tractionđđđ @jellywrites1218 is mine again! so ill be putting some fics out soon! i panicked so much it was scary! thank you guys! i love yall so much!!!
so um writing account got hacked if you get a message from me itâs not me!!! REPEAT JELLYWRITES1218 is not me rn im trying to get my account back so donât click on anything guys!!!
so um writing account got hacked if you get a message from me itâs not me!!! REPEAT JELLYWRITES1218 is not me rn im trying to get my account back so donât click on anything guys!!!
@jellywrites1218 is not mine currently iâm saying it again just in case
Hockey player!Jean x Football player!Reiner x Nerd! Black reader
an. ayyeeeee. this is like a little warm up so that i can start writing fr fr again. did you guys miss me??? no??? it's okayđ it's all love. lol jk anyways i got inspired after I saw this. I might write a second part that's longer and more detailed and whatnot. lemme stop yapping.
cw. this is smut. barely any plot. threesome, mlm and wlm x2 in a way. oral (fem. receiving) I like it when boys kiss... so I made them kiss...đ
You donât know how you ended up in this position. Laying in some randomâs bed during a party. You hadnât planned on going since parties werenât really your forte. But a friend begged you to go because they didnât want to go alone. They promised that you guys could leave early but, youâre so glad you hadnât left. Your top pushed up above your breasts. Your pants long gone as you lay on your back. The captain of your schoolâs football team between your thighs and the captain of the hockey team sitting behind you.
âShit, Jean. Keep her still,â Reiner mumbles, barely coming up from your soaking cunt as he speaks. His tongue immediately goes back to swirling around your swollen clit. You let out a sob, your legs trembling and your hips bucking as Jean sitting behind you chuckles lowly. His hands around your ankles, keeping you spread wide for Reinerâs wet tongue.
âIâm tryinâ sheâs fighting. Maybe ease up on the poor girl,â Jean grins as he watches Reiner slurp on your pussy. He wraps around your clit and sucks hard. You moan loudly, back arching and toes curling. âOr not,â Jean chuckles.Â
You just canât believe this is happening. You never even thought they noticed you. You guys had one singular class together. The two men were already good friends, and both of them are the popular type. Only hanging out with girls they knew they could get in the pants of and other men that are also athletic and like to party. With all the attention they got from girls you couldnât imagine them wanting you like this. You donât talk much, focused on your studies and just a plain out nerd. You can admit it. So when they approached you at this party, and confessed their attraction to you. At the same exact time, mind you. Neither one seeming bothered by sharing you (Because they already discussed this situation and came to an agreement on sharing the cute nerd that sits in the back of their lecture). And well⌠you couldnât pass up such an opportunity.
âThis fucking pussy is so good,â Reiner growls, before giving your sensitive pussy a harsh slap. You cry out and Jean swoops in to ease the blow, his long, slender, fingers rubbing up and down your sopping folds.
âLet me get a taste,â Jean says. You donât know what you expected but what didnât expect was for Reiner to push himself to kiss Jean. Your jaw drops and your eyes widen as the two straight men share the filthiest kiss youâve ever witnessed. Jean groans as he licks into Reinerâs mouth. Tasting your sweet nectar. Before they both pull away. A string of the mixture of spit and your slickness connecting their lips. Your pussy clenches around nothing.
âHoly shitâŚâ You breathe out in complete awe and disbelief. Jean and Reiner share a look before gazing down at you. The most smug expression on both of their faces. You gulp knowing you're in for a long night!
an. here's a little toji drabble. it's a little long... i got carried away.
cw. cocky toji! him and reader are in a relationship, unprotected sex, mentions of mating press, riding, cream pie, dirty talk, black reader! as always
Toji is a cocky bastard. It doesnât matter what he does, he always does it with an arrogant smirk and snarky remarks. He doesnât mean it of course, he just loves riling people up. Especially you. When you both first met, he pissed you off so bad. You were having a horrible day and thought maybe you could grocery shop in peace. You were looking forward to grabbing your favorite sweet treat. There was only one left and so you went to grab it but apparently he wanted the same thing and snatched it up faster than you can blink.
You had cussed him clean out. Mainly because of the day you were having, he had just been your last straw. While you cursed at him, angrily pointing fingers in his face. He had only smirked, he fell in love right then and there watching the prettiest woman heâs ever seen yell at him in the middle of the grocery store. After you were done, he gave you the sweet you wanted so badly and asked for your number like asking for the time. The sad part is⌠you gave him your number. Since then, that was the only version of Toji you knew. Confident, taking up space, and having the smartest mouth that mankind has ever seen. Even in bed he was annoying. Folding you up in the meanest mating press and fucking you into the matress. Saying the nastiest shit you could imagine, all with that signature smirk on his face. You loved it every time. He always made you cum that way. The dirty talk, the confidence, it did it for you. It wasnât until way further into your relationship when he finally revealed his duality.
âLemme ride you,â You murmur against his lips. His tongue practically down your throat as he nods. Heâs manspreading on the couch of your apartment. Heâs already gotten your shirt off, your pants off, and your panties slightly askew. You straddle his lap, pussy dripping wet, aching for the familiar stretch of his thick cock. He deepens the kiss, pulling your curls to tug your head back. You moan and grind down on his bulge shamelessly. He smirks against your plump lips.
âBet that pussyâs leaking for me,â He mumbles. You feel the rumble of his voice in his chest against yours and huff, starting to pout. Fuck, does he love that expression. He pulls back to watch you grind on him as you let out little frustrated whines. You need more and heâs right there. âYouâre so whiny, baby. You need me that badly?â He taunts just to see that pout deepen. You huff again, whining some more before taking matters into your own hands.
âShut up,â You grumble as you tug his sweats down. His thick, heavy length springing free. Youâre impatient. Biting your lip, youâre already pulling your panties to the side and lining him up with your dripping entrance. He grins, placing his hands behind his head as he watches you. His tongue slowly traces the scar on his lip, the arrogance never leaving him. You slowly lower yourself onto his dick with a loud moan. The girth of him stretching and filling you so good you tear up a little. He groans, still smirking.Â
âYou look so pretty sitting on my dick, baby,â He coos. You roll your eyes, your hips slowly starting to move up and down his cock. He lets out another groan, as you build a rhythm. Heâs still talking shit being all bold and cocky as you cream all over his cock. Eventually, your rhythm falters and you sigh, not quite getting the pleasure you want. So you pause, adjusting so that the soles of your feet are planted on either side of his thighs and you bounce that way. Able to get the right pace. You see him tense, his hands moving quickly to grip your hips as he lets out a moan. Your eyebrows lift slightly as you stop, thinking you may have hurt him.
âToji? You okay?â You question. The words barely leave your lips as he nods quickly.
âYeah, keep going,â He mumbles, not even looking at you. You hum softly before picking up that same pace that has him tensing again, this time he whines. Something awakens inside you. âShit⌠donât stop,â He groans, his hands falling to his sides. You moan at the neediness of his voice and youâre now slamming your hips down. Riding him within an inch of his life. He doesnât shut up. âFuck, this pussy is so good, baby. I fucking love you. Squeezing me so tight⌠Thank you, thank you, thank you,â Heâs whining, his eyes rolled back into his skull as he weakly thrusts up into your warm wetness. Youâre creaming up his dick, making a mess of his thighs, your cunt clenching tight as you get closer and closer.
âGonna cum, Toji!â You cry out. He nods, desperation oozing in his tone as he practically begs you to cum around length. Itâs so much. Youâve never seen him like this so whiny and desperate. Your orgasm rips through your body. Your legs shaking, and your pussy pulsating around his cock as you moan and whine. He follows immediately after, groaning low and deep as he floods your walls with his hot, sticky seed.Â
You both pant heavily. Sweaty and sticky, but satisfied. You look at him, a smug smile pulling at your lips and he rolls his eyes. âShut up, woman,â He huffs. You laugh, happy to finally be the cocky one.
âI didnât say anything,â You say, feigning innocence. He narrows his eyes at you and you giggle. You peck his lips once, then twice before pulling back. âIt was cute,â
âNo, it wasnât,â
âToji, I liked it,âÂ
âMy pride will never recover,â
âYouâre so dramatic,â
âThis will never happen again,â He says firmly, his lips pulled into a frown. You chuckle, kissing away his frown and sighing.
an: So so sooo happy to finally get this out so sorry it took forever but it is definitely worth it!!! next chapter will be longer donât worry!
cw: Apocalypse au! Southern Jean! Soldier Jean! Reader has a little brother, Angst, Can't think of anything else really
word count: 2k and some change
You were only seventeen when the world decided to go to shit. You remember like it was yesterday. Walking home from work, the cool autumn air crisp, dry leaves crunching under your tired, heavy steps. You dreaded going home. Your foster parents were shit caretakers and they did nothing for you or your little brother. It was you two against the world.
When you arrived home that night, the house was quiet besides the TV playing the news channel. Something about a rabid animal biting someone and strange symptoms occurring. You didnât care then. It seemed like such a small detail. If only you knew. You could have prepared yourself. For now.
Five years later, the world seems to be infested with the Infected. The air smells of death in most areas. Food is scarce. You can trust no one. You wander alone. No more simply living, getting by just to get by. It's about survival. You sigh as you walk, combat boots heavy, back pack heavy on your shoulders, and holsters heavy with weapons. Nowadays, youâre used to the extra weight thanks to the years of training yourself to adapt to the apocalypse.Â
âGod, Iâm hungry,â You mutter to yourself as you keep walking. And as if you could manifest shit into existence you spot an abandoned grocery store. Itâs vacant. The windows broken shattered glass everywhere you donât hesitate to step inside. Glass crunching under your boots as you quietly search the store for food. You find some canned goods, expired chips that havenât grown mold yet, and some water. You stuff the food into your backpack and search around for other supplies.
You stumble upon some clothes. It makes you realize how worn and dirty your outfit is. A white t-shirt that hugs your waist and dark washed jeans that have seen better days. You bite your lip before kneeling and stuffing your backpack with clothes. You stand, you hear a click and you feel the cold metal of a barrel (your guess is that it belongs to a pistol) pressing against the back of your head.
âDonât move,â The voice obviously belongs to a male. His voice is deep, smooth like fresh pavement. Hard enough to hurt if you fell. You take a steady breath. Slowly raising your hands as if surrendering. He canât even blink before you sweep his legs from under him with a swift kick to his ankles. He hits the ground with a loud thud and a grunt. His gun falls out of reach as you pull your knife. Pinning him with your sharp steel blade to his throat.
âWho the fuck are you?â You practically snarl as your brown eyes meet his light brown ones. The asshole smirks at you and you almost slit his throat for it.
 âIâm Jean. Jean Kirstein,â he says lowly his tone holding some arrogance. Bold for a guy with his life being threatened.
 âOkay, Jean⌠tell me why I shouldnât slit your throat and leave you here for the Infected,â You threaten. Effectively wiping that stupid smirk off of his face.
âBecause I wasnât actually gonna shoot you,â He says lamely. You scoff and roll your eyes.Â
âRight, you just point your gun at people for the fun of it. Do I look like an idiot to you, Jean?â You question flatly. He sighs, his chest rising and falling with the action.Â
âNo, ma'am," He answers, pausing as if thinking. You watch his eyes dart around. Not in a way someone does when lying, but in a way someone does when they're searching for the right words.
You give him grace. You let him think. While he does, you take the time to actually look at him. Heâs stupidly handsome. His jawline is sharp and angled. His beard is short and frames his face nicely. Plump pink lips. Light brown hair that stops just past the nape of his neck, itâs tousled and teased like he runs his fingers through it often. You watch his lips part and your grip on your knife tightens.
âI am alone and Iâve run into some real unfriendly people. I wasnât gonna kill you, miss. I justâŚhad my guard up,â He says sincerely. You falter, your grip loosening on your weapon. You stand, offering him your hand to help him stand with a sigh. He takes your hand and stands with a grunt.Â
âI canât be too mad. My guard is up too,â You mumble your voice quiet but not quite soft. He lets out a chuckle. Itâs deep, raspy, and stupidly boyish.
âSo, whatâs your name?â He asks, the boyish grin not leaving his face. You hesitate. Itâs hard to trust. It's hard to let your defenses down living in a world like this, but he already said he didnât want to hurt you. And you guess you trust that because he hasnât tried anything.
âIâm [Y/N],â You say simply. Not letting your tone or expression shift. Refusing to let some stranger see even a sliver of weakness. No matter how handsome and charming Jean is. You no longer live in a world that would allow you to be vulnerable.Â
âWell, itâs nice to meet you, [Y/N],â Jean says before starting to walk around to gather his own supplies. You grab your backpack then watch him carefully for a moment ready to part ways. Yet, with your terrible luck itâs never that easy.
You hear the roaring engine of a truck. And soon after you see the truck pull up to the abandoned mart. The symbol spraypainted on the door is recognizable from miles away.Â
 âShit,â You whisper, dropping down and signaling for Jean to do the same.
âRougesâŚâ Jean whispers and you nod. Three men emerge from the truck and make their way into the store. You quickly scan your surroundings, searching for an exit. Your eyes land on a window that sits high on the wall. You nudge Jean and point at it. His eyes follow your finger and he nods. You both move slowly towards the back of the store where the window is located. Jean pauses.
âWe need to distract them to buy some time,â He whispers, picking up an empty can. You nod before he throws it in the opposite direction of you guys. the can hits the floor with a loud clang
âThe fuck was that?â One of the men asks. At that, the men move towards the sound. You and Jean move quickly and quietly through the aisles. Once at the window, you push an old crate to stand on and yank the window open. The window lets out a loud creak that gives you both away.
âGO, GO, GO!â Jean yells and you hoist yourself out jumping out. You hear gun shots before seeing Jean jump out and you take it as your sign to run. Jean follows you into the forest. You both run until you no longer hear the Rogue men yelling.
You pant heavily as your sprint slows to a jog, to a walk, and finally, to a stop. Jean stops behind you. His chest heaving under his black shirt. You turn around and you both meet eyes.
âHoly shit, I thought you died,â You say, sounding more relieved than intended. If he notices, he doesnât acknowledge it.
âThey had shit aim,â Jean pants, he takes a deep breath and grins. âYouâre fast by the way. I was struggling to keep up,â He adds, that boyish grin spreading across his face again. You simply shrug.
âGuess Iâve done a lot of running,â You say nonchalantly. You both stand there, letting silence fill the area around you. You donât know why you just stand there. Thereâs a feeling that keeps you weighted to the ground. Standing in front of the man who is basically a stranger to you. You know though,you know you canât stay. You canât get attached no matter what. No matter how lonely it is to wander alone. No matter how hard sleep is during cold nights. So, you adjust the straps of your backpack and give him an awkward, tight-lipped smile. âI should get goingâŚâ You say, starting to walk away backwards.Â
Jeanâs face falls. Itâs subtle but you notice it nevertheless. He takes a few steps forward like he just canât help but chase after you.
âWait,â He rushes out, his chest rising and falling quickly. Your eyes widen slightly and he falters, shifting foot to foot and taking a deep breath. âListen, Iâm heading to this camp. Thereâs a bunch of survivors. Food, shelter, and even electricity. Itâs supposed to be real safe and they let pretty much everyone in. You can come with me,â He says, his hand coming up to gently tug on his right ear. You shake your head.
âI donât do groups,â You say simply. You turn ready to walk away. Jean stops you again.
âListen, I know itâs hard out here by yourself. Trust me, Iâve been doing it alone too. But you donât have to be alone. Thereâs still hope out there. You have to believe that to fight and live this long, right? We have a chance to live semi-normally. Donât you want to take the chance? Just come with meâŚâ He says, his voice dripping with desperation. You can only stand there. Stunned. He clasps his hands in front him before his head drops. âPlease, maâam. I-Iâve been alone so long. Running into no one but Rogues and Infected is all Iâve known. I really need a friend, to be honest,â He adds, looking back at you with a slight frown pulling at his lips. Itâs pitiful, and you canât believe it but it has moved you.
âOkay, Iâll tag along. Sounds like a win-win situation,â You mumble, and his whole body language shifts, his shoulders relaxing, and his head lifting, his hands relaxing at his sides. âBut, Jean,â You say, he hums. âIf you are setting me up, I will kill you,â You say, voice firm and serious. He simply nods, his expression unmoving. He starts walking signaling for you to follow him. You sigh, not sure what you got yourself into. You follow after him, adjusting your backpack, and your journey starts with a new person to share it with.
-
You and Jean have been walking for hours. The sun is starting to set, painting the sky in warm hues of orange, yellow, and pink. The wind blows a little harder, your curls probably a mess you couldnât bring yourself to care about. Jean stops.
âWe should stop to rest. I have a tent. Real easy to put together,â He says and you nod.
âCool, Iâll start a fire while you set it up,â You mutter as you start to look around for good fire wood. Jean watches for a moment then puts the tent together. Youâre able to get the fire started pretty quickly despite the wind blowing. You sit in the grass, warming yourself by the fire. Soon, Jean finishes the tent and comes to sit beside you.Â
âYou hungry?â He asks, pulling out a can of beans and you simply shake your head. You have a little rule to only eat when you are absolutely starving. Itâs to save food. In turn, it made your appetite quite small and your tolerance to hunger quite high. At times, itâs hard to tell when youâre actually hungry but it keeps you alive. âCome on, we have double the usual amount of food if we combine our supply. We can share this can. Gotta eat something, sweetpea,â He holds the can out for you to take. You roll your eyes at the pet name but you take the can.
âFine,â You grumble, opening the can and eating exactly half. You give him the can back and stare at the fire. Jean eats slowly, watching you closely.
âYou been by yourself this whole time?â He asks, you shrug, body a little tense. You look at him, watching him back.
âYou first,â You say, sitting back ready to listen. He lets out a humorless chuckle before he starts tugging on his right ear. Just like he did earlier. You figure it must be some kind of coping mechanism for him.
âI was in the military before everything happened. My team was my family. We all joined at eighteen, young and reckless, not giving a shit about anything. I was twenty when the virus started spreading. The government sent us back here, thinking we could stop the Infected. There were just too many of them. We got surrounded and our captain was bit⌠I got so scared⌠I ran. I fucking left them. I donât know where they are, if theyâre even alive. Iâve been alone ever sinceâŚâ Jean shakes his head slightly, remorse written all over his face. You soften a little but you donât know what to say or do to comfort him. So you sit there quietly and let him collect himself. Â
âYour turn,â He says. You sigh deeply, your eyes shifting around.
âHell, where do I even start?â You question rhetorically. You let out a breath, the topic is heavy. Your heart still aches to this day when you think about it. âI- uh⌠Have a little brother,â You start, closing your eyes and sucking in a deep breath. âWhen the virus started spreading⌠our foster parents died immediately. Not that I cared much. They were shit. It was just me and my brother. Just like it had always been,â You pause, exhaling shakily. âWe were doing great. I mean heâs a smart kid. Super observant, he is the reason why I can survive. He figured out the Infected so fast⌠I got greedy. Saw this abandoned home that seemed pretty stocked up. It was surrounded by Infected. I made him come with me. He didnât want to goâŚâ Your voice cracks and before you know it, hot tears roll down your cheeks.Â
âBut I knew I couldnât do it without him. So, we made it inside. We got surrounded. I couldnât fight and protect him at the same time. He got bit while trying to defend himself. I had tried to help him⌠but it was bad. By the time I killed all the Infected, I knew I was too late. The bite was horrible. He couldnât keep going even if he tried. He just looked at me. He didnât blame me, he wasnât angry. He just begged me, begged me not to let him turn into the infected,â Your heart feels as though itâs being ripped apart. The grief is too much. The memory hurts. Your brother sobbing, pleading for you not to let him turn into a monster. You remember fighting, begging him not to make you do it. You remember he kept begging, kept sobbing. How he held your hand and how you finally relented. How the gun felt in your hand when you held the barrel against his forehead. You remember squeezing your eyes shut and having to look away. You remember listening to his soft sobs, listening to him tell you he loved you for the last time. Then, how you pulled the trigger. The gunfire was so loud, then the silence followed. You remember sobbing and having to vomit because you felt so sick. You ran. Never turning back with tears in your eyes and grief in your heart.
âI had to kill him⌠because he didnât wanna turn and I couldnât-â You cut yourself with a gut wrenching sob. Jean immediately pulls you into a hug. You let him, not caring about being vulnerable anymore, you sob openly into his chest.Â
âGod, Iâm so sorry, sweetpea,â He says, trying his best to comfort you. His hand rubs your back soothingly letting you cry. You cry and cry until you canât anymore, until you fall asleep. Your guard is lowered for once after so long. âYou poor girl,â Jean says softly before standing and carrying you to the tent. He gently lays you down and watches you sleep for a while. Then his own eyes droop shut after a few minutes pass.
You both sleep, a little less lonely and a little more hopeful.
Just some silly nonsense of Sukuna being scared of his ovulating wife..hehe
Sukuna Ryomen always thought himself to be a manâcreature? monster? whatever his subjects stupidly defined him asâwith near super human stamina, especially in the bedroom.
He could go for hours, never getting tired, never relenting, until whoever was beneath him was nothing but a whimpering, twitching mess covered in fluids. Both theirs and his. No woman had ever kept up with him.
Until you.
Itâs one of the many reasons he married you. Such a sweet looking little human with such a devious side and a libido that matched, if not exceeded his own. It made him throb with excitement.
Now, donât get it twisted. He very much still left you a bumbling mess by the time he was done with you. But, he would also be left with a twitch in his thighs, tremor in his rumbling tone, cock so sensitive it made him hiss to touch the thick head, balls completely drained.
And after a few years of marriage, when you stopped taking your birth control tonic to prepare for heirs, Sukuna actually began to fear your libido.
You were insatiable at the best of times but now and especially when ovulation hit? The king of curses feared for his safetyâor more so the safety of his cock.
This month you seemed to be even worse. Youâd been on him since before the sun had even graced the horizon.
He was awoken by your small, warm hand wrapping around his cock, giving a few tentative strokes to see if your husband would stir.
The moment he acknowledged you you were on top of him, gliding his rapidly hardening length through your already slick folds before slipping him inside you. Taking him to the hilt like it was nothing.
Heâd fucked into you for hours, in every position, at every angle. Filling you again and again. Had you cumming again and again. Yet youâd still wanted more.
Sukuna was pretty sure he was just shooting air at that point, so when you got up for a bathroom breakâthe sun now high in the skyâthe man took his chance to escape to freedom. Slipping on his robes as quietly as possible before creeping out of your shared chambers.
Now he sat in his private library.
All 6 '4 of the beefy man hiding from his tiny human wife whoâs hormones currently scared the shit out of him. He knows if you find him heâll give in, he can never say no to you. You feel too good, sound too sweet. But his body is so sensitive from earlier heâs not about to embarrass himself by letting you know how much you wear him out.
What would the world come to if it was known Sukuna Ryomen couldnât handle his pretty little wife.
Knock! Knock! Knock!
The pink haired man freezes, standing slowly before he creeps over to the door, acting like heâs hiding from some rabid animal loose in his home rather than his own wife, he opens the door just a sliver to peek through.
The massive man lets out a relieved sigh, his muscular shoulders slumping in relief when he sees itâs only Uraume.
âFuck, itâs only you. Come in and shut the door.â He grumbles.
Uraume steps into the library, softly closing the heavy door as commanded before awaiting Sukuna taking his seat.
They stare at a rather tense looking Sukuna with a raised brow. Seeing their lord like this was highly unusual.
âIs everything alright, my lord?â Uraume asks, voice filled with concern. âFine.â Sukuna nods. âYou didnât happen to see my wife nearby did you?â Sukuna asks nervously. âNo, my lord. But I can fetch her if you wiââ âNO!â Sukuna booms, louder and higher pitched than heâd expected it to come out. Shocking everyone, including himself.
He clears his throat, running a hand through his pink hair. âFuck. I mean no. I was just wondering.â He shakes his head.
Maybe he had managed to hide successfully. That was untilâ
âOh Ryooooooo?â He hears your sweet voice sing song.
Sukuna freezes, staying impossibly still as his eyes flit to Uraumeâs. He slowly brings a finger to his mouth, commanding them to remain silent.
Sukuna hears the soft thud of your feet as you approach the library, holding his breath and scrunching his eyes in hopes you donât sense him in the weird wife way you always seem to do.
When he hears you finally pass by, muttering a soft âwhere is he?â, he lets out the breath heâd been holding.
Sukuna looks back at Uraume who is looking completely baffled by his odd behaviour.
âForgive my boldness, my lord. But are youâŚhiding from your wife?â They ask with a raised brow. âMaybe..â Sukuna shrugs. âNot like Iâm doing a good job of it though.â He grumbles. âThe womanâs like a fucking bloodhound when sheâs ovulating.â âI see..â Uraume nods, still looking confused.
Before Sukuna can open his mouth again he hears the quick paced pitter patter of your feet hitting the stone floor getting closer and closer untilâ
âFound you!â You burst into the library like a mad woman.
Fuck.
âH-hello, woman.â Sukuna gulps, standing from his chair. âWere you hiding from me, Ryo? Thatâs so mean.â You pout oh so innocently, twirling the ties of your robe around your fingers. âTch, why would I hide from a little thing like you.â Sukuna scoffs, puffing out his chest in false bravado.
Uraume looks between the two of you, catching the way you look like youâre about to eat Sukuna alive and the small layer of anxious perspiration at the top of Sukunaâs hairline.
âExcuse me, my lord, my lady. Iâll leave you two to it.â Uraume bows before backing out of the room and shutting the door, trying hard to stifle a laugh at the slightly terrified look on Sukunaâs face.
âWhat do you want, woman?â Sukuna commands.
He lets out a shuddering breath as he watches you undo your robes. âYou know what I want, Ryo.â You giggle, pulling your lip between your teeth as you let your robes hit the floor with a soft thud.
Sukuna almost chokes on his own saliva as his crimson eyes take in your bare skin, his cock thickening at the sight. Your thighs already glistening with slickness. That pretty cunt all ready for him without any prep.
He can smell the sweet scent of your ovulation wafting through the room, his massive hands colliding with the wooden deskâthe wood cracking upon impactâas his knees almost buckle beneath him.
His body is reacting to you without thought. He canât reason with or control it.
The tension of the room is palpable as you stare into each other's eyes. Sukunaâs chest beginning to rise and fall faster and faster before he lets out a growl.
He begins stalking towards you, making you giggle in satisfaction before he has a hand around your throat, pressing you into the hard wooden door. The frigid coolness of the wood making you hiss as your back arches.
He presses his nose against your neck, inhaling your scent with an animalistic purr as your hands slip into his hair.
You push your hips towards where his cock begs for freedom through his robes, a whimper slipping from your throat when he only tightens his grip.
âInsatiable little thing, arenât you?â He grunts against your ear. âOnly for you, Ryo.â You whisper, moving your hands to begin undoing his robes. He gives a satisfied hum as you feel his lips curl up into a smile against your skin.
Sukuna hisses when your hand grips his cock, his hips bucking at the sensitivity.
âAw, is my big bad husband worn out already?â You coo. âIâll fucking show you worn out.â He growls, flipping your body so that the cool wood presses against your tits as he pulls your hips towards him.
âIâm not stopping until youâre passed out and dripping with me.â Sukuna grunts, running his length between your dripping folds. âShut up and show me.â You challenge.
some days, youâre both content to just lay there with eyes closed, heartbeats matched in pace. his breathing is even, even as he's rock hard inside you. the usual crease between his brows is missing, replaced by a serene expression not a lot of people get to see. the stretch and heft of him inside you is almost soothing at times like these. he could be spooning you or be on top of you, either way his lips are always pressed to your neck, unmoving. at least until he murmurs soft i love yous, so quiet you wouldnât hear it if you werenât so close.
sometimes he gets you begging; circling a thick finger over your clit as he hushes and coos at you to stay still and stop trying to fuck yourself on his cock when heâs already making you feel good. to stop being greedy unless you want him to stop. sticks his fingers from his other hand into your mouth when you start running it until only the slick sounds of his touch on your clit and his groans as he feels you tighten around him can be heard.
and other times, you get him to beg. sitting yourself on his lap and kissing him slow and deep. running your hands over his stomach, his broad chest, up and down before they go up to the back of his neck, playing with his hair. you let him do the sameâlet him paw at your soft bits until his breathing is labored. but it's when your lips and tongue move down to his neck that he starts getting real needy; bucking his hips and gripping yours to try to bounce you on his cock. then it's your turn to hush and coo at him to stop moving and keep his hands to himself. he obeys, of course. it's instinctual for him to give you what you want, even at his expense.
he tries to talk you into it, though. "let me lay you down, princess. iâll do all the work, i promise. justâ just please let me move. please. iâll make us feel so good."
you pout at him, caressing the side of his face. "doesnât this already feel good?" punctuating your sentence with a teasing swivel of your hips that stirs his cock inside you.
he groans, head falling back as he pants, skin shiny with sweat as he strains to keep himself from flipping you over and fucking you until you're both shaking.
you trail a finger down his stomach, his abs flexing at your touch. you look down at where you're connected, clenching around him as you notice your slick wetting the dark blond hair at his base. you're not as unaffected as you're trying to project; you never are. even now, a part of you wants to let him just take what he needs. you take a bit of mercy on him at that.
"just a bit longer, okay?" you thumb at his cheek, skin rasping against his stubble.
he nods, lips red and eyes dazed. "can i at least get a kiss?"
you smile. "of course. anything for my beautiful man."
an: surprise shawty! i ended up finishing this in one night because once i started i couldnât stop. also this fic was made with the song speechless by beyoncĂŠ playing on repeat so if you wanna listen to that while you read it might be more immersive!
cw: firefighter reiner! traditional wife reader! (not in the weird conservative way) unprotected sex, creampie, slightly sub reiner! also reiner is southern in this itâs not specified but i was thinking it along with reader being chubby. again not said but sort of implied. also not proofread!MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!
It had been four years. Four years of a blissful marriage with the love of your life. Reiner was a hard working man. A provider in every sense. So much so, he picked a job that entailed providing for others. He loved to help, to save, and so it wasnât hard for him to pick being a firefighter as his career choice. He was so glad he did. It was how he met you.Â
-
You remember that day like it was yesterday. At the time, you were staying in your shitty apartment. It was cheap and you lived alone. So the little things, like jammed doors and cracked tiles, didnât bother you much. Your bathroom door got jammed often. Usually, you were able to just force it open. It was second nature at that point.
That morning you had gotten ready to shower. You took a towel and an outfit layed them out of your bed while you were distracted talking to a friend on the phone. Taking off your clothes before heading to the bathroom with your phone and nothing else. You hadnât realized you forgot your towel until after your shower. You had sighed, chuckled to yourself (foolishly thinking it was no big deal) before going to open the door. It wouldnât budge. You shoved at it with all your strength and still, nothing.
First, you panicked. Then, you tried again and again and again. Still, the door hadnât opened. About an hour passed of being trapped in your bathroom. As embarrassing as it was, you called 911. After explaining what happened, the dispatcher sent firefighters to your apartment. Soon later, You heard a lot of male voices and heavy footsteps in your apartment and it was so humiliating to know a bunch of men were about to see you naked.
Thatâs when someone called out for you and you called back. You had made a half attempt to cover your breasts and mound once you heard them prying your door open. Thatâs when you saw Reiner.
You can never forget the dumbfounded expression on his face when he saw you. His eyes wide and his strong jaw slightly slack. Your face grew warm. So embarrassed that the guy coming to save you was ridiculously fine. You both stared at each other before he realized he was supposed to be doing his job. He had shooed his colleagues away before they could see you in your compromising position. Then, he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over your shoulders. His face was red and his eyes stayed respectfully on the floor. You had wrapped yourself in his firemanâs jacket and he waited outside the bathroom making sure the door wouldnât swing open or get stuck while you were changing.
He was sweet and gave you advice on how to fix your doors once you were fully clothed. You thanked him and he smiled widely and gorgeously then uttered âOf course, maâam. Itâs my job,â With such pride and sincereness, your heart had nearly exploded at the adorableness.
About a week later, you had decided to bake cookies for the men that helped you and drove down to the station. You just had to tell them thank you. Especially Reiner. His advice had all of your doors working normally. You had pulled up and walked inside and called out to see if anyone was there. All the men had come down and you smiled sheepishly when they recognized you. Reiner was the first to get to you and you talked. He had complimented your hair. You giggled and thanked him. The rest was history.
-
You were curled up on the couch. Comfortable in a bonnet and one of your husbandâs t-shirts and a pair of shorts. A candle lit. Your home smells of vanilla and honey. A fluffy throw blanket thrown over your legs as you sip a glass of red wine. One that Reiner really likes so you ended up drinking too. Not on purpose. Just because it reminds you of him.
When you both got married Reiner made sure you would never have to work again. You really didnât mind staying home, doing whatever the hell you wanted while reiner worked. You both just happened to like it that way.
As you sit, watching a new show youâve been bingeing lately, you hear the front door open then shut. You smile to yourself and check the time. Itâs eight pm sharp. The same time Reiner always comes home. Never early, never late. You hear his heavy sigh and some shuffling before he trudges his way to the living room.
âHi, honey,â You coo, watching him walk around to collapse on top of you with a grunt. You giggle as he nuzzles into your bosoms inhaling your scent and sighing. âLong day?â You question, He nods and sighs.
âHad some stupid calls today. Been wanting to come home to you all day,â He mumbles, your smile widens. He looks up at you slightly pouting. You peck his soft pink lips. He sighs, like heâs really been looking forward to it all day.
âIâm sorry your day wasnât the best, baby,â You say, as you pull away.Â
âJustâŚcome to bed with me?â He asks, you donât hesitate to nod and he doesnât hesitate to carry you to the bedroom. He kicks the door shut behind you guys. He takes his time to gently lay you down.
âReinerâŚâ You whisper, watching him remove his shirt. His body stupidly muscled. You're grateful he started bulking. His frame is thicker and softer but the definition of his muscles still stand out.
âHm?â He hums as he starts to kiss your neck softly sucking hickeys onto your brown skin. His large, calloused, hands gripping your thighs. Massaging the thickness of your thighs and pressing his bulge against your heat. You gasp softly, back arching and legs wrapping around his waist.
âI-I thought you wereâŚtiredâŚâ You mumble, a little distracted as he licks up the side of your throat, hungry, desperate.
âNever said that,â He growls, his chest rumbling against yours. At that you decide to stop pretending to not want it as much as he does. You cup his face and smash your plump lips against his. The kiss is sloppy and passionate. The both of you too impatient to take your time. You sit up and push him onto his back and straddle his lap. Your hips grind against his in slow little circles. He groans into the kiss, his lips parting. You take the opportunity to slide your tongue into his mouth. You whine as he swirls his tongue around yours. Itâs warm and wet. You pull back to remove his shirt you were wearing. Your breasts, soft and supple, are cupped by his palms almost as soon as theyâre freed.
âFuck!â You gasp as his thumbs circle your nipples until your buds stiffen. He sits up to suck on one before quickly switching to the other. His dick straining in his pants, a small wet spot forming where heâs leaking precum all over himself. Your shorts are worse. Cunt sticky and slick with arousal. Both of you are desperately humping each other. Driving each other crazy.
âCome on, mama. Need to feel you,â He practically whines. His voice is deep and hoarse. The Neediness bleeding into his words. You moan out loud and nod, urgently tugging your shorts and panties off in one swift motion. He does the same with his own clothes, awkwardly kicking his pants off. Your eyes meet and you both share a soft intimate laugh. Pressing your forehead against his, his hands grabbing hold of your waist.
âI love you, baby,â You say softly. His hands slide down to your hips then up your back. You shudder at the contact. He grins.
âI love you too, darling,â He whispers. You grab the base of his cock and rub your wet folds back and forth on his flushed pink mushroom tip. He lets out a breathy âFuckâ Before his hands slide back down to your undulating hips.
âYou missed me, baby?â You ask, your eyebrows furrowed in pleasure as you grind your clit against his head. Getting wetter and wetter. Coating his thick length in your juices.
âYou know I did, [Y/N],â He says breathily. You smile and shake your head slightly.
âJust humor me, my love,â You murmur. He rolls his eyes a little, though not truly bothered by your teasing.
âI missed you so much, honey,â He mumbles with a small smile. You sink down on his dick and you both moan in unison. He stretches you out in ways that never fail to make you feel it. Even after all these years. His eyes are shut tightly, his grip on your hips bruising.
After a moment of adjusting, you slowly lift your hips up and down. Your hands on his firm chest for support. Your pussy wrapping his cock in warm tight wetness. Dripping and soaking him in pleasure. He sighs and relaxes, getting used to the rhythm you set.
âYou feel so fucking good,â He groans, his hands moving to your ass, squeezing and slapping the fatty flesh. You take the stinging sensation as encouragement to speed up slightly. The soft slap of your skin meeting fills the room, your eyes rolling back. Reinerâs eyes open to watch you bounce on his dick. His eyes fixated on where youâre leaving that signature creamy ring around the base of his cock like you always do when you guys make love.
âReiner, Baby,â You moan out, You make eye contact with him and almost cum right then and there. His face is flushed, his jaw is slack and the softest moans and whimpers escape him as you bounce faster. He collects some of your creamy slick with his thumb, then rubs quick tight circles on your swollen clit.
âIâm so fucking close. Please tell me youâre there too. Please, Baby,â He whines desperately. His hips thrusting up to meet your bounces. Rough and quick, the both of you chasing your releases.
âYes, Iâm there, Baby! Iâm cumming!â You whine. You cry out, your voice cracking as you orgasm. Your face scrunching with pleasure while you clench and pulsate around him, milking him for all heâs worth.
âHoly- fuck!â He grunts. His eyes rolling back and his toes curling as he holds you still with his grip on your hips. His cock throbbing inside you as he paints your walls white with his thick, warm cum. You collapse on top of him and he wraps his arms around you.
You both sit in silence, bodies sweaty, trying to catch your breath. His hand slowly and soothingly rubbing up and down your back. Once you no longer struggle to get air in your lungs, you lift your head to kiss him soft and slow. He smiles into the kiss, and when you pull back his smile is still there.
âI love you,â You whisper, smiling back at him. His hand finds your left, fidgeting with your wedding ring before kissing your knuckles.
âI love you, darling,â He whispers back. You giggle and nuzzle your nose against his. He chuckles and carries you to the bathroom, where you both clean up.
đŕžŕ˝˛ warnings .á + word countâ 14.9K, original!blackfemreader, neighbor!onyankopon, firefighter!onyankopon, southerncoded!onyankopon, shy!femreader, aggressive!onyankopon, sweet!onyankopon, dominant!onyankopon, tipsy!sex, high!sex!, pet names, dirty talk, aggressive pet names, squirting, creaming, condomless sex, pussy eating, dick sucking, minors are not welcome! đŕžŕ˝˛
ăĄă˘ăâ listen, i wasnât supposed to even be writing a new fic, so idk how we got here? LMAO. but that doesnât matter, we got it! + i actually really like this one. itâs cute, hot, funny, sexy. i had fun writing it. i hope yâall enjoy it too, teehee. love yâall, glad to be back.
DOMINANT NOTES OF BLACK CHERRY SLIDE ACROSS YOUR TONGUE, STELLA ROSE ALWAYS BEING A FAVORITE WITHIN YOUR WINERY COLLECTION.Â
It was your favorite day of the weekâFriday to be exact, the weekend right around the corner as you looked forward to girlâs night. Always hosted at your apartment, taking place on the porch if it wasnât too hot. But it wasnâtâthe weather was perfect tonight.Â
âIâm tellinâ you girl, Stella Rose: Red, is good too!â
âIâm not really into plum notes. What about the Moscato version?âÂ
The porch was adorned with an abundance of foliageâlarge spider plants, devilâs ivy, pothosâthe leaves all different shades of green. There were also white lights hanging across the bars, the soft glow basking your group in a warm, yellow glow.Â
As each of your friends guzzle down the sweet liquid, the sound of their laughter floats through the air. Your wine glasses clink together as the bottles rest on the table. Charcuterie is set outâdried fruits, crackers, cheeseâeverything was set up for a good night.
Pen scurrying across your journal, your glasses tip at your nose as you flick your round eyes briefly towards your closed textbook. You werenât supposed to be thinking about homework, but you couldnât help but ponder over the last question youâd gotten wrong on your previous assignment.
âLawdâThere she goâ with her nose in that textbook.âÂ
Your lashes peer upward.Â
âSorry. Did you try the Peach one?âÂ
Three girls are sitting on the porch with you. Theyâre all different from one anotherâwith two wearing oversized sweaters and a pair of leggings, while your one friend, Ruya, wears a form fitting dress, black strappy sandals on her feet.Â
Ruya, who is a nurse, sighs at you.
âItâs girlâs night, girl. Not study night.â
âI know, I know,â you mutter back, âItâs justâwhy canât you help me study again? Didnât you have Anatomy in nursing school?âÂ
The other two girls shake their headsâLola, whoâs an attorney and Kimora, who runs a local restaurant, both of their gazes flicker between you and Ruya.Â
âThat was freshman year,â Ruya reminds, âBesidesâI barely passed with a B.âÂ
âB?â Lola quirked an eyebrow at her friend, âYou got a C. You called us sayinâ you were gonna beat up your professor, remember? The nigga nearly flunked you out of school.âÂ
âSo nobody wants to help is what Iâm hearing,â you murmur, dropping your pen.Â
âWe can tell you whether or not blue cheese is a good palette cleanser with your favorite wine,â Kimora hums, âWe should be having girl talk right now!â
You sigh, realizing she was right.Â
Closing your textbook with an exhale, your french tips reach for your wine glassâyou take a gentle sip as you tilt your head, âSo, how âbout you tell us how you and the hubby are doing? Youâve been so hard to reach since he moved yâall up in that big house in the Garden District.âÂ
Kimora chuckles, arms crossing over her chest. Her gold bangles clink when she moves, fingers grasping her glass with slender fingers decorated with rings.Â
âItâs been great. Just as great as we thought itâd be, you know?â Her lashes flutter, a soft smile pulling at her plump lips, âHeâs so busy with work sometimes, the lack of sex can make me a bit fussyâbut he makes up for it with every Birkin bag.â
âGod, donât even bring up the word sex. Me and my fiancè havenât slept together in likeâthree days!â Lola groans, âI think Iâm losing hearing in my left ear.â
Everyone laughs at Lolaâs expense, her pout growing.Â
âIâm being serious!â She declares.Â
âAt least you donât have a doctor like Kimora,â Ruya shakes her head, âI donât think I could handle the schedule. Me and my man have agreed that he cut down hours at the car shop, so he can spend time with me and the baby, yâknow? Sheâs only three months old, but I donât want her to feel unattached from her father. What if babies can feel abandoned?âÂ
âLike dogs?â Kimora questions.
âBabies arenât dogs, Kim. Geez. Iâm just saying.âÂ
You chuckle, âDogs, really?â you question Kimora, who shrugs.Â
âI read somewhere that dogs are actually very intelligent.âÂ
âI agree,â you hum, fingers toying with the stem of your wine glass, âGodâI want a dog so bad, but my scheduleâs too tight.âÂ
âOh hell. Please donât get a dog,â Ruya interjects, âYou barely have enough time for yourself as it is. Iâm honestly shocked you can make space for girlâs night every Fridayâspeaking of sex, when do you even have time to rub on your own clit?â
âJesus, Ruya!â
You shake your head, âIâm fine, okay? Iâm justâhaving a little self journey involving preservation. I havenât looked at my own vagina unless Iâm showering or getting it waxed.â
âHere we go,â Lola shakes her head.
Ruya rolls her eyes, but laughs, âNo, but seriouslyâYou donât even have time to cook, yet you think youâll have time to take care of a pet?âÂ
You pout.Â
âIâd name it Oreo.âÂ
âOreo would lick his own balls for self preservation, so whatâs wrong with a little DJâing downstairs?âÂ
Her words make everyone scoffâLola and Kimora burst out laughing.Â
âPlease never refer to masturbation as DJâing again!â Lola begs, head shaking.
Ruya holds up her hands, âAll Iâm saying is you need a little fun in your life instead of studying all the timeâA.K.A? You need some dick, girl.âÂ
You groan, shaking your headâthis has been a discussion between you and your friends for forever.Â
âSorry that Iâm not trynaâ flash my pussy to all of the Westbank. Maybe my education is more important, Mrs. Wife and Kid.âÂ
Ruya glares at you, pointing a finger in your direction, âDonât bring my baby into this, girl.âÂ
Her warning makes you roll your eyes.
âSorry, sorryâmy bad. Iâm just saying. Itâs not that simple for me, okay? You know how difficult my parents are? The last thing I need is a man.âÂ
âNot all men are going to try and control you, girl,â Lola counters, âNot everyone is like your helicopter parents.â
âThatâs what this is about?â Ruya questions, âThatâs why you wouldnât go out with my fiancèâs friend?â
Your eyes flicker to Ruya, your back straight as your fingers fidget with your necklace.Â
âI didnât even see what he looked like, Ruya,â you retorted, âThereâs no way in hell Iâm going out with some random dude I donât even knowâlook, I appreciate the gesture, okay? I appreciate everyoneâs take on my sad, single life. Iâm content, alright? Can we stop? Please?âÂ
The girls all share looks, each of them wearing a sympathetic frown.Â
They mean wellâtruly, they doâthey care. Theyâre just worried about you. Especially since youâre almost thirty, and youâre more focused on work than a love life.Â
âIâm sorry, boo.âÂ
Ruyaâs the first to apologize, âWeâre not here to tear you down about being single. Itâs justâwe have this love and family for ourselves, we wanna see you have that, with an amazing careerâ you know? Youâre sexy and big brained, any man would be lucky to have you.âÂ
âYou just deserve a good time,â Kimora adds.Â
âWeâre not tryna be mean. We just love you, okay?â
You sigh, feeling the guilt weigh you downâyou love these women like sisters, they only wanted what was best for you.Â
âI know youâre not trying to be mean,â you nod, ââSorry for getting defensive.âÂ
Everyone smiles reassuringly at you in unison, âItâs okay, girl.âÂ
Kimora then exhalesâshe takes an unopened bottle of Stella Rose: Blueberry, âLetâs pop open this bad boy, huh? Iâm not feelinâ wine drunk yet!âÂ
âHell yeah!âÂ
âThisâll be my last glass,â Lola comments, reaching for the unopened bottle, plucking the top off with a corkscrew, âI gotta work in the morning.âÂ
âGodâyouâre such an adult,â Ruya deadpans.Â
âShut up.âÂ
You smile, as they always made you do.
The warm glow of the string lights dances across flushed cheeks as the girls giggle, now pleasantly tipsyâglasses half empty, voices a little louder, limbs loose with laughter. Kimora sways slightly in her seat as she dramatically recounts her latest restaurant drama, while Lola rolls her eyes but canât hide her smirk. Ruya leans back in her chair, fanning herself with one hand and swirling her wine with the other. Â
Then, a bark interrupts the silent night.Â
A deep canine sound cuts through their chatter like a gunshot. All four heads swivel toward the street below your terrace, railing like synchronized puppets. Â
And there it isâa man.Â
Broad shoulders stretch against his black tee, tattoos snaking up his thick arms, all the way to his neck where a small cross rests just under his left eye like some kind of divine warning label. His Cane Corso trots beside him on a heavily chained leashâa beast just as intimidating as its ownerâtongue lolling between sharp teeth as it pants eagerly at something unseen down the block.  Â
Kimoraâs wine glass freezes halfway to her lips.
âOh?âÂ
Lola blinks like sheâs trying to reboot reality itself, and Ruya? Her mouth drops. Her jaw literally unhinges so hard you hear it creak, she whisperâs, âWho the hell is that?â
His skin glows under the streetlamp, deep brown and smooth like aged whiskey, stretched taut over thick muscle that flexes as he adjusts his grip on the leash. The cross tattooed just beneath his left eye winks when he turns his head slightlyâdark eyes scanning lazily ahead while those full lips press into a hard line. The rest of him is a canvasâblack ink crawling up corded forearms, disappearing under rolled-up sleeves, only to resurface along the column of his neck where veins sit prominent against artful chaos. Â
And then thereâs his hairâtight cornrows braided straight back from a sharp widowâs peak, each plait gleaming like polished onyx before disappearing at his crown; neat enough for church, but dangerous enough to make you wonder what those hands could do if they werenât occupied with pounds of pure canine muscle beside him.
Intimidating? Undoubtedly.Â
Your throat goes dry.Â
Ruya peeks over the balcony, âDamn. Thatâs the type of nigga your husband would get mad at you for just lookinâ at.â
âThatâs the type of nigga you have an affair with,â Kimora blinks, leaning towards her friend as she also watches him.
âYâall shut up,â Lola whispers, âGirlâdo you know him?â
"GirlâŚ.thatâs the neighbor I told y'all about," you murmur, voice lower like he might somehow hear, âHe moved in a month ago. I see him walking that monster of a dog sometimes when I'm leaving for work." Â
Ruya's eyebrows shoot up so fast they nearly disappear into her hairline. Â
"Waitâthis is the new neighbor thatâs kinda cute?!â Her whisper is practically a screech at this point, hands flying to grip the balcony rail like she might vault over it if given enough incentive, âOh my god. You lied!âÂ
Kimora chokes on her wine mid sip, coughing into her hand before wheezing outââHollonââYou never said he looked like that!âÂ
âI didnât think it mattered!â you hiss back defensively, still keeping your voice low.Â
Lola just shakes her head slowly, disappointed but not surprised by this critical omission of detail. The four of you crouch like naughty children as you and your friends peer over the edge of the balconyâstaring.Â
He mumbles something low to the dog, voice seemingly deep even from afar. But thatâs when it happensâhe pauses when the animal suddenly sits and lets out a low warning bark, ears pulled back as its eyes narrowâits gaze fixed on the unit you lived in.Â
The man follows the dog's gaze. And then? They lock right with yours.
Ruya, Kimora, and Lola immediately drop to their hands and knees, flattening against the ground as they hide like their lives depend on it. Your eyes go wide as you look down at them, âDonât be weirdâget up!â
âNo, now you have to go say something! He caught us!â
âMe?!â you whisper yell, âI wasnât the one stalking!â
Ruya grabs your ankle and yanksâsuddenly you're on your knees beside them, wine glass clutched like a lifeline as all four of you huddle like spies behind the railing.Â
Kimora peeks through the gaps, her whisper franticââOh my fuckinâ hell, heâs still looking.âÂ
And oh god, he is. One thick eyebrow arches slowly over those hooded eyes, the dog letting out another chuff, tail thumping against pavement while its ownerâs lips twitch.Â
Ruya pinches your thigh under the table, âGo!âÂ
Lola shoves you inside the house, âYouâre the one that lives here!â
âI donât even have clothes on!ââ
Sometimes? You hated your friends. Now, you were scurrying down to the ground level of your apartment, the squeak of your bunny slippers patting along the concreteâyou can already feel your nerves getting the best of you as you get closer to that broad frame of his, the dog immediately turning to recognize your presence first.Â
âExcuse me?â
Those dark, hooded eyes drag from the sidewalk up your frame. And God, standing this close? You realize just how huge he isâtowering over you with shoulders that block out the streetlights behind him, tattoos peeking from beneath his rolled sleeves as thick fingers flex around the dogâs leash. Â
The animal sniffs toward your bunny slippers first, wet nose bumping against fuzzy pink fabric, then letting out a low huff of approval. Â
But unlike the dog? His gaze doesnât stop at your feet. Â
It lingers on your hips barely hidden beneath those sweatpants, traveling up past the curve of your waist where caramel skin disappears under a long sleeve white tee. The outline of full breasts were impossible to ignore as his eyes flicker there for half a second too longâfreckled cheeks dusted in brown tones and lips painted deep pink by nature alone; glasses catching moonlight when you nervously adjust them atop flushed cheekbones, dotted with brown constellations across smooth skin.
His nostrils flare subtly at bergamot laced vanilla curling off heated flesh. Finally, he meets your almond-shaped eyes blinking back at him through round frames, onyx curls draping all around your face and body as you tilt your head.Â
Looking at him closer, your brain short circuits.
So you sayâ
âDoes your dog bite?â
The corner of his mouth twitches, just barely.Â
That one little movement makes your stomach flip. The way that small shift in expression cuts through all that heavy stoicism makes you realize heâs got a dimple on one side. Â
A single, deadly dimple.
The dog huffs again, licking its jowls as it sits obediently at his sideâstill eyeing your slippers with vague interest. Â
His voice comes out deep; gravel scraping velvet, âDepends.âÂ
One thick brow arches higher as he lets the word hang between you two, âYou planninâ on pissinâ him off?â
Your mouth parts a bit. Then, movement catches above you. Three heads pop up from behind porch rails only to dip back down immediately when noticed againâyour friends are literally spectating this train wreck instead of helping steer this conversation away from disaster.Â
Traitors, all of them.
âNo! Iâum,â you try to think of words to say, but you could only think about the way this man could probably see your nipples through the fabric of your top. You then manage to get out, âI justâI thought your dog was pretty, âwanted to know what breed it was. I have a dogâI mean, no I dontâI want a dog.â
That dimple deepensâjust for a split secondâbefore his face smooths back into that unreadable mask. The dog, sensing your nerves, lets out a soft whine and nudges your hand with its massive head. Â
His eyes flicker to the porch where your friends are now failing spectacularly at pretending theyâre not eavesdroppingâKimoraâs shoe is visibly sticking out from behind the railingâThen back to you. Â
âCane Corso,â he says finally, voice low like itâs some kind of secret just for you, âItalian mastiff.â
âOh,â you nod, âRight. Heâs umâheâs a cutie,â you smile a bit, âCan I pet him?â
âGonâ head, been trynaâ teach him to be more polite around strangers.â
Your fingers smooth over the tip of his head, rubbing both palms against the side of the animal's faceâyou lean in, âPeople are scared of you, hm? But youâre a sweetie bean.âÂ
Why was it easier talking to a dog than a man?
You realize this as you scratch under its chinâyou clear your throat to ask, âWhatâs his name?â
"Bully."Â Â
That one word rumbles out of him like thunder cracking over the bayouâlow, inevitable, and somehow amused beneath all that stoicism. Bully immediately flops onto its back at your feetâexposing a belly speckled with pink scars and thick muscle, it kicks its legs in the air like some overgrown puppy begging for rubs. Â
You blink down at the beast currently acting like a glorified teddy bear before slowly dragging your gaze back up to his ownerâs faceâhis goatee wafts a fruity scent, seemingly oil, you assume.Â
âWhyâd you name him Bully?â
ââNigga got an attitude most of the time.â
The seriousness in his voice somehow makes you a bit amusedâit garners a real giggle from your lips, your fingers splaying over Bullyâs stomach to pat rubs onto itâyou then murmur, âWell, Iâd hope your owners name isnât as scary as yours, hm?â
His chest shakes with a silent chuckle. A deep, barely-there vibration that makes your fingertips tingle where they're buried in Bully's fur. Â
"Onyankopon.â
Your nose scrunches before you can stop it, âThatâs long."Â
The corner of his mouth twitches againâdimple warning, âCall me Ony, then."Â Â
Bully chooses that exact moment to roll onto his side and nearly crush your bunny slippers under pure muscle, tail thumping against the pavement as if approving this entire interaction.
You catch his eyes as you stand, the invitation of his name somehow making you more nervous. You tug a curl of your hair, adjusting your glasses reflexively as your cheeks flushâyou nod, âItâs nice to meet you. You umâlive here?âÂ
Girl.
âI meanâyou live in this unit? Did you just move here? Oh god, I sound like a stalkerâI just meant, do you like it?â
That dimple breaks free again, before his face smooths back into something unreadable. Â
âMoved in âbout a month ago,â he confirms. His thumb flicks toward the unit across from yours, âQuiet over there. 'Cept for Fridays.â Â
His eyes cut pointedly up to your balcony, three pairs of hands clearly gripping the railing as they eavesdrop. Kimoraâs wine glass nearly tips overâice clinking violently as she jerks back out of sight again with an audible âShit!âÂ
Onyankopon doesnât even blink, âYâall do this every week?âÂ
You bury your face in your hands, caught in your entire plan. Your freckles practically go pink as you nod, âYeah, we do.âÂ
Bully whines sympathetically, licking your ankle through one bunny slipper.
Onyankopon hums like heâs filing that information away somewhere. Something about him scares you. Heâs quiet, observant.
You sigh, âIâm sorry. My friends are the most annoying people on the planet, we werenât trying to seem creepy. TheyâŚthought I should introduce myself,â you briefly explain, âI really thought your dog was cute though, I donât have enough time to get one of my own.â
He studies you for a long moment. Those hooded eyes trace the nervous way your fingers twist together before landing back on your face. Â
âYou work nights,â he says suddenlyânot a question, an observation.Â
Your brows knit together, âHow did youââ
âI be hearinâ yoâ lilâ ass sneakinâ through the gate âround three in the morninâ.â Â
That single sentence lands between you two with all the subtlety of a grenade, his voice casual while your mouth drops open slightly. It takes everything in you not to whip around and glare up at your friends who are definitely losing their minds listening to this right now.
âI, umâYeah,â you admit, voice dropping an octave like youâre sharing classified intel, âI work at the funeral home on ChartresââEmbalming right now, but finishing up my Mortician license soon.â Â
You brace for that familiar flicker of discomfort in peopleâs eyes when they hear about your job. Or worseâinvasive questions about corpses like youâre some walking encyclopedia on decomposition. Â
But Onyankopon? He just nods.Â
He glances down to his dog before muttering, âMortician, huh? Thatâs why I ainât never smell no food cookinâ when I walk by?â
That gets another small smile from you.Â
You pull a curl behind your ear, âIâm not the best cook,â you admit, âDefinitely not the first thing I tell on a date. But umâsince you see me coming in from work, Iâve seen you leave for work a couple of timesâeither youâre a secret agent, or youâre the first person Iâve met to also be an Embalmer.âÂ
His chest rumbles with a quiet laughâjust once, sharp and deep. Â
âFirefighter,â he corrects, jerking his chin toward the faded emblem on his left pec where NOLA FD sits half-hidden beneath taut fabric, âStation 7.â Â
Bully huffs like even heâs judging your terrible cooking confession, flopping onto his side again to expose more belly as if trying to derail this entire conversation back into petting him instead. Â
Onyankopon watches you chew your bottom lip. He then asks, âSo what you be sayinâ on dates, then? âSides the fact that you canât cook.â
Another dumb giggle bubbles upâpartly from the wine, partly from the way his eyes havenât left your face since you walked up. You adjust your glasses again, a nervous habit. Â
âWell,â you sigh, âI donât lead with how I spend my days elbow deep in formaldehyde.â Â
That gets another rumble of laughter out of himâricher this time, vibrating through his chest like distant thunder. Bullyâs tail thumps approvingly against the pavement between you two. Â
âWhat? That ainât romantic enough for âem?â
You muse, âIâve literally had men ask if my hands smell like embalming fluid on a regular basis. You can say it scares people off.âÂ
âAinât never met nobody who could scare off weak niggas just by tellinâ âem what they do for a living,â that dimple flickers againâbrief but deadly, âShit sounds efficient.â
It takes everything in you not to visibly swoon at the compliment. The combination of his voice doing that gravelly rumble thing and his unapologetic honesty? It's intoxicating in a way you can't explain. Of course, now that youâre over the shock of him not completely recoiling in horror over your profession, you really start to notice how ridiculously attractive he is.  Â
Those tattoos on his arms, that sharp jaw and those perfect teeth behind his plush lipsâ
âIâI mean yeah! Yeah, it umââ a nervous laugh slips out as you straighten up too fast, nearly tripping over Bullyâs sprawled legs, âDefinitely filters out the losers.âÂ
Somewhere above you comes Kimoraâs muffled âOh my god!â, followed by Ruya violently shushing her.Â
Onyankoponâs gaze flickers down to where your fingers play with your hair, lingering on the curve of your bottom lip for a second too long. Â
âMight wanna tell yoâ friends they ainât slick.â
You glance back up, before looking back to him.Â
âI might need the fire department after Iâm done with all three of them.â
He snortsâa quiet, barely there sound that makes you realize you've actually managed to catch him off guard. But then, he does that thing again where his expression goes back to carefully blank. It's somehow even more dangerous because of the intensity of his eyesâdark and focused as they watch you fidget like a cornered animal.Â
âWell, Iâm gonna go. Yeah, I umâneed toâdo something.â
Onyankopon doesnât move. He doesnât even blink, just lets you drown in your own flustered words while Bully whines pitifully at your feet, like even the dog knows this escape attempt is pathetic. Â
âDo somethinâ,â he repeats slowly, voice dropping to that rough timbre again.Â
A beat passes. Two. Thenâ Â
âAight.â Â
That single word shouldnât feel like a challenge, but it does. Especially when paired with the way he steps back just enough to let you fleeâknowing full well youâre gonna have to walk past all six-foot-whatever of him to get away while your friends silently cheer from the balcony above.
You give Bully one last scratch behind his earsââBye, Bully,â you coo, voice an octave higher than normal. Then, turning to Onyankopon with what you hope is a casual smileâbut probably looks more like a grimaceââNice meeting you.â Â
âNice meetinâ you too.â
You pivot on your heelâimmediately tripping over absolutely nothing, catching yourself before face-planting into the pavement. You donât dare look back to see if Onyankoponâs dimple made another appearance at your expense.
You just scurry forward, locking your eyes back towards your terrace as your friends freak out, in which you yell from below, âOh my god, that was horrible. Immaâ kill yâall!â
And that dimple? Did in fact reappear.Â
The next week of your life hadnât changed by much. If anything, it was a little more interesting. Ever since youâd had that conversation with Onyankopon, you were finding yourself running into him, seeing him, stumbling over your words each time you talked to him. It wasnât your friends to blame now, you were justâshy.
That first time you passed him was in the hallway on your way to work, his uniform stretched taut over those broad shoulders, NOLA FD emblem gleaming under the fluorescent lights as he adjusted his duffel bag. Heâd paused when he saw you, dark eyes dragging from your freckled face down to the textbook clutched against your chest like armor. Youâd offered a shy little waveâall fingers wiggling awkwardly before tucking a curl behind your ear. Â
And Onyankopon? Smirked. That dimple carved into his cheek for half a second before he nodded back and kept walkingâleaving you standing there feeling like youâd just been branded by that look alone.
Then came the gym incident.
You hadn't meant to spy, but when you glanced out your kitchen window while washing dishes one evening, there he was across the courtyard; shirtless and glisteningÂ
as he worked through reps with weights that should've been illegal in size. Every muscle in his back flexed with movementâtattoos rippled over sweat slick skin, cornrows perfectly intact despite exertion.
You'd dropped an entire plate into soapy water loud enough for him to freeze, head tilting slightly toward where the sound came fromâ
Your curtains snapped shut so fast they nearly tore off their rod.
But worst of all? The patio debacle.Â
 After another grueling embalming session where formaldehyde clung stubbornly beneath fingernails, you stepped onto the balcony hoping fresh air would clear that lingering chemical scentâyou froze when you saw him.
There he was, framed within his own apartment window tugging a black tee over an ink-streaked torso, defined abs leading down to a deep v-line, hips disappearing into low-slung sweatpants hanging dangerously loose. And from the thin material? Itâs big, girthy, long.
Was this man orchestrating your downfall?Â
It didnât help that friends won't shut up about him eitherâ Just give Big Daddy your number already!Â
Giving him your number mightâve solved all the issues of your short circuiting each time you saw him, but you just didnât want to make a fool of yourself if he wasnât interested. So, you played it cool.Â
Well, not cool enough.
The universe was absolutely conspiring against you. Â
Three days after your last humiliating encounter with Onyankopon, youâd decidedâagainst all better judgmentâto attempt cooking real food for once. No more microwave meals, no more takeout. You were going to make jambalaya like a proper New Orleans girl if it killed you. Â
Which apparently, it nearly did. Â
You had your laptop propped up on the counter, an instructional video playing at full volumeââNow add the holy trinityâbell peppers, onions, celeryââ while your Mortuary Science textbook sat open beside it, chapter on arterial embalming glaring up at you in stark black and white. Between frantically stirring what was slowly becoming charcoal in your pot and trying to memorize which vessels required the most pressure during fluid injection? Disaster was inevitable.
One second youâre squinting at a diagram of the brachial arteryâ
The next? Flames.Â
Not just a little kitchen mishap either; orange tongues licked hungrily up toward your cabinets as oil spattered violently from an overheating pan of sausage links. In true dramatic fashion, your brain short circuited into full-blown panic mode.Â
"FIRE! FIRE! OH MY GOD. I'M GONNA DIE LIKE THIS?â Â
Between sobbing into your hands and desperately fanning smoke toward open windows with anatomy flashcards, the fire went out, leaving behind mildly charred cabinets. But ohâthe blaring smoke detector overhead now screeched like a banshee straight from hell itself, warning the entire complex about the crime youâd just committed.
Peeking through the blinds, your stomach drops like a stone. The entire apartment complex is outsideâneighbors in robes, pajamas, even one lady clutching her cat carrier like sheâs prepared for Armageddon. The flashing red lights of the fire truck paint everyoneâs faces in alternating pulses of panic as your manager scurries around with a clipboard, visibly doing headcounts. Â
Then you see him.Â
Onyankopon steps out of the truckâfully geared up in his NOLA FD uniform; thick suspenders strapped over broad shoulders as he speaks into his radio. His partnerâa shorter but equally serious-looking guy with salt and pepper hairânods toward your building just as the apartment manager throws her hands up mid-count.
You duck away from blinds so fast they rattleâbut that knock comes exactly three minutes later, firm enough to shake the doorframe.
You consider pretending death for half a second.Â
And there they standâSalt and Pepper looks mildly concerned, while Onyankopon wears an expression of sheer disbelief once he gets a full view of the disaster zone behind you. Smoke curls the ceiling lazily around that still screaming detector; charred remained jambalaya clinging to the pot pathetically, your textbook splayed graphic images of embalming diagrams right beside your laptop currently blaringâ âAnd thatâs how you make the perfect Roux!âÂ
âMaâam,â Salt and Pepper starts gently, âWe had reports of smoke coming from this unitââ
ââManager says you were the only tenant unaccounted for,â Onyankopon cuts smoothly, âWhat happened in here?â
You're standing there in oversized sweats with a headful of messy curls, soot smudged cheeks and an expression like a puppy that's gotten into troubleâhell, you're pretty sure your nose is even twitching from holding back tears. But instead of cackling like the universe seemed intent on making you endure? Onyankopon's face remains perfectly impassiveâjust quietly studying the mess around you like he's trying to make sense of the situation.
You nearly sob then and there.
"I was justâI was cooking! I was trying to cook and study andâIâI didn't mean toâ"
To your surprise, Onyankopon's voice softens.Â
 "Hey, Mama. Breathe. You know you can talk to me, stop allatâ.â
âYou know her?â Salt and Pepper questions.
Onyankopon doesnât even glance at his partner, eyes locked on you as he steps forwardâjust enough to block the full view of your disaster kitchen from Salt and Pepperâs prying gaze.Â
His voice drops lower, rough but steady like heâs talking someone off a ledgeâwhich, given the way your bottom lip is trembling? Might actually be necessary. Â
âAinât nobody hurt,â he mutters, âBuilding still standinâ. You put it out yoâself?â Â
You nod frantically, wiping at your face with the back of your hand only to realize itâs covered in flour and something suspiciously sticky, âI used baking soda, learned that in one of my classes.â
For one second, Onyankopon's expression does something complicatedâlike he's fighting six different reactions at once.
âGood.âÂ
That single word shouldn't feel like absolutionâbut it does. Especially when paired with the way his thumb brushes over your wrist when he hands you his handkerchief, âCâmon, let us do our job so we can clear this alarm.â
Still trembling a little, you clutch the handkerchief in your hands and look up at him with wide, uncertain eyes. Â
"Did I actually almost burn down the building?" you ask weakly, your voice barely above a whisper, âBecause it really felt like I did."Â Â
Onyankopon exhales through his noseâalmost like he's holding back a laugh but doesn't want to set you off again. He tilts his head just slightly, and that damn dimple makes an appearance as he murmurs, âNah. But if it'd been worse? âCoulda carried you out over my shoulder,â a beat, âDramatically.â
The unexpected humor catches you so off guard that a giggle bubbles up before you can stop itâwhich only makes him smirk harder.
Salt and Pepper looks between the two of you like heâs witnessing some kind of code red workplace violation. He clears his throat pointedly, motioning towards the smoke detector still wailing overhead, âWe should probablyââ
âRight,â Onyankopon cuts smoothly without breaking eye contact with you, âBut next time? Maybe stick to orderinâ takeout.â
You press the handkerchief to your face in mortified defeat as they finally step insideâleaving Salt and Pepper to handle technicalities while Onyankopon lingers just close enoughâ and, for his low chuckle to ghost over your ear when he addsâ
âOr call me.â
The next few days were painful.Â
After your apartment manager gave you a strongly worded lecture about fire safetyâcomplete with pamphlets and an emergency evacuation plan shoved into your handsâyou went full hermit mode. Only leaving for work and coming straight home, avoiding eye contact with every neighbor who may or may not have witnessed the Great Jambalaya Incident. Â
You had an exam coming up, so burying yourself in embalming fluid ratios and cranial sutures was a decent enough distractionâexcept when your mind would inevitably wander back to him.Â
Today was also Sunday. Saints game day, football being your one true love outside of mortuary science. Your two-piece set clung in all the right places, gold and black Saints logo stamped across shorts that barely covered the curve of your ass, long sleeved top hugging every dip of your waist before plunging just low enough to tease your full cleavage. Your curls were pulled back by a headband while still cascading past your hips; lashes thick from extensions, catching sunlight as your freckles glowed against caramel skin.Â
You're bent over checking the mail when his shadow falls across yoursâ
âHeadinâ out?âÂ
You jump, mail scattering as you spin around to find Onyankopon standing there. He also wears a long sleeveâfootball logo large on the materialâmolding around his muscular frame like it was painted on him, durag and cargo pants making him attractively relaxed.Â
âUhââ You scramble for words while gathering fallen envelopes, âI was. But Ruya has food poisoning, Lola got caught up with her husband, and Kimora just ghosted. SoâIâm just gonnaâ watch upstairs, do some studying too.âÂ
His gaze flicks pointedly towards your textbook sat atop of the mailboxes, Embalming & Restorative Techniques Vol 2.
Onyankopon tilts his head, dark eyes scanning over your figure with a slowâalmost lazyâappreciation that makes you feel seen in a way that's unfamiliar.Â
"âSaintsâ colors look good on you," before his gaze drifts pointedly to your shorts, "Even got allatâ ass pokin' out.â
Your breath catches, cheeks flooding with heat as you straighten upâtoo fast, nearly dropping the mail again. His smirk deepens at your fluster, that damn dimple making another appearance. Â
âYou umâwatching the game too?â You blurt out, desperate to deflect from how his words just made your brain go blank.Â
Onyankopon hums in affirmation.
 He then questions, âYou gotâ a headache?âÂ
You blink up at him like a deer in headlights. You then remember you had been rubbing your temples before he walked over, âOhâYeah, probably from studying too much. Iâm always squinting, even with my glasses on.â
"Nah," he murmurs, "âHeadache probably came from suckin' allatâ smoke in."Â
You swallow as his gaze lingers on you for a beat longer. Then, he nods towards the stairs, "You said you finnaâ watch the game?â
Onyankopon doesnât wait for your answerâjust adjusts the strap of his durag with one hand, while the other gestures toward the stairwell like this is a foregone conclusion. Â
âYou can study at mine,â he says simply, ââTV loud enough that you can watch from the couch while I cook.â Â
The offer hangs between you twoâheavy and loaded despite how casual he makes it sound. His eyes flick down to where your teeth worry at your bottom lip, voice rough around the edges, âAinât gotta worry âbout burninâ my place down either.â
âFunny, butâI couldnât ask you to do that.â
Onyankopon doesnât budgeâjust arches a brow, stepping closer until his shadow swallows yours whole. Â
"You ain't askin'," he corrects smoothly, plucking your book right out of your grip, âI'm tellin'."
His apartment was immaculateâmodern, open, almost minimalist. The kind of space you'd find in an interior decorating magazine, but with a distinctly masculine feel. Dark wood, black and brown furnishings. Art pieces and family photos adorn the walls. The only spots of color come from the vibrant pillows and blankets strewn across the sectional, Saints jersey hung in a frame next to a mini bar that looks stocked to the gills with top shelf liquor. The TV plays the pregame, volume low.Â
You're too busy staring around the place to notice Bully bounding up until he all but knocks you overâyou giggle as you nearly stumble back.
Onyankopon scolds the dog with an amused shake of his head, "Bully, goddamn,â as he reaches down to scratch behind the dog's ears, âYou can't just jump on a woman like that, boy. You gon' hurt her."
âItâs okay,â your murmur softly. You place your other textbook on the table, tugging him down to lay on his stomachââYou missed me, sweetie bean? I missed you too.â
Bully rolls onto his back like he's never seen better days, tail thumping against the floor in ecstasy. He whines, tongue lolling like he's smiling. His tail thwacks the floor.Â
âDonât be givinâ that nigga too much attention, he already spoiled.â
ââThat right? Papa spoils you, hm?â You coo, âThatâs okay. You deserve all the love and kisses.â
Onyankopon stands there watching you, eyes darkly amused as he murmurs, "I'm startin' to think you only came over for the dog."
âDonât listen to him,â you murmur, âHeâs just jealous.âÂ
You grin up at him without thinking, sunshine-bright and unguarded, before realizing how close he is. How domestic this all feels. Your smile falters slightly as heat creeps up your neck.
Onyankopon notices immediately. That smirk returns full force as he pushes off the door, âSit down âfore you start petting him like yâall married or some shit.â Â
Bully whimpers when you stop scratching him, trotting after you like a shadow while Onyankopon moves to the fridge. Â
ââYou drink?âÂ
âDid you forget Iâm trynaâ study? I canât be giggling over my textbook.â
You take a second to think though, âUnless you have Stella Rose in there.â
His chuckle is low as he pulls out a chilled bottle of Stella Rose: Black, âYouâ in luck,â he murmurs, pouring with practiced ease, coming over to hand you the glass from where you sit. The deep red liquid swirls as he taps his glass against yours, ââTo not burninâ shit down this time.âÂ
âFunny.â Â
You canât fight the smile tugging at your lips, Bully immediately plopping his heavy head onto your lap like he owns you now. Â
âGame starts inâ ten,â Onyankopon gestures towards your textbook, âBetter hurry up with allatâ studyinâ. Saints donât wait for nobody.â
He settles into the sectional beside youâall casual, spread legs, one arm stretched across the back of the couch, body angled toward yours like he's got all the time in the world. Even Bully gives up his spot on your lap to circle around you and collapse on top of his owner's feet, huffing contentedly when his big hand starts scratching under the dog's chin without looking away from you.Â
You sigh, âItâd speed up the process if you were a geniusâyou know anything about Pathology?â you slide your textbook along your lap, tucking your legs on the left side of your body.
âDepends,â he rumbles, âYou talkinâ forensic pathology or just general shit?â Â
Your eyebrows shoot up, âSmart man.â
âFirefighter EMT certification had us studyinâ some wild shit,â Then, quieter, âPlus, my lilâ sister aâ pre-med.â Â
âSeems like the whole family wants to save the world. Youâre like Superman,â you hum, âWhat part of New Orleans are yâall from?â
He chuckles at thatâlow and deep, â9th Ward,â He nods, watching your eyes go slightly wide.Â
He adds, âWhat, you thought a nigga was gonâ say Uptown?âÂ
âNo, I justââÂ
He cuts you off with a shake of his headânot mad, âRelax,â he mutters, leaning back slightly, âAinât shit wrong with being from Uptown if thatâs where you at,â His thumb brushes against the fabric of the couch near your shoulder, like he's resisting touching you outright. Â
âWe moved out when I was âbout sixteen after Katrina fucked up everythinâ,â The way he says it is has no pity expectedâbefore shifting gears smoothly, âBut yoâ turn now. Whereâ you from before this apartment tried killin' you?"
You shake your head, swirling the deep red in your glass before taking a sip, âBorn and raised Uptownâwhole familyâs still here.â Â
âExplains why you walk around like you own everythinâ but canât boil water.â Â
âRude!âÂ
âJust sayinâ.â
You both look at Bully who's now flopped between both of your legs, paws up like roadkill, âHe agrees with me."Â
The dog yawns. Traitorous animal.
Before either of y'all can retort thoughâthe game starts blaring from TV speakers loud enough to make you jump, the crowds roar filling the apartment as the Saints run onto the field.
You try hard to focus on your notes, highlighting key terms, murmuring definitions under your breathâbut it's impossible not to peek up every time Onyankopon leans forward, cussing at the TV like the players can actually hear him. Â
"Man, what kinda bullshit call was that? Thatâs a flag! Throw it, blind ass nigga!âÂ
Bully barks in agreement like he understands every word, pacing before plopping down dramatically when a play resumes. Â
Somehow though? The chaos is weirdly comforting. You find yourself smiling into your textbook whenever he gets particularly animated; his deep voice growling obscenities one second, then booming with celebration next as Saints score their first couple of touchdowns.
Halfway through the second quarterâand three glasses of Stella laterâyou've given up pretending to study entirely, leaning back against cushions while watching the game from over Onyankoponâs broad shoulder.
ââThought this nigga âboutta graduate,â he mutters without turning around, âNow she watchinâ the game instead.â
âThis class is kicking my ass,â you stressfully admit, âImmaâ just stay an Embalmer at this point.âÂ
âAight.â
 He reaches for the remote, lowering the volume slightly before twisting fully toward where your legs tuck; he notions, âTell me what ain't stickin'.â
You hesitate for half a second before sighing, flipping open your notebook to the most confusing section, âOkay, soâputrefaction. The stages keep tripping me up.â Â
âAight. Think of it like thisââ His finger taps against your notes as Bully rests his head on your thigh again for moral support, âStage one? Thatâs when shit first start lookinâ wrong but ain't smellin' yet. Themâ gases build up, and the body gonâ look like a microwaved balloon.âÂ
You giggle a bit, âSounds extremely gross when you put it that way.â
âStage two? Now we get stank,â He gestures loosely with his free hand, "Skin slippage, blisteringâlike when you leave chicken out too long and it turns green. Except this chicken used to be yoâ uncle."Â Â
âOnyankopon!âÂ
âWhat?âÂ
His grin is unrepentant, âIâm teachinâ, ain't I?â
âOkay! I got it now,â you giggle once more, âThank you.â
âThank me in yoâ valedictorian speech,â he stands from the sofa, âYou hungry now?â
âAfter you compared spoiled chicken to a decomposing body? Sure,â you muse, âWhat are you making, chef? Since Iâm apparently the worst cook on the planet.â
He shrugs off the playful insult like it's nothing, already stalking toward the kitchen with Bully following behind, âNot just a chef. Culinary King, baby.â Â
He then says, âGumbo. Real gumbo,â he tosses over his shoulder, "Ain't gonâ need no YouTube video for this either."Â
You watch from the couch as he moves around the kitchen, graceful for a man his size. His tatted arms flex as he chops vegetables with quick precision, sleeves rolled up to reveal more ink along his forearms; bold black lines weaving stories you can only guess at. Â
One tattoo in particular catches your eyeâa small, intricate design near his temple.Â
âThatâ one mean something?âÂ
His hand pauses briefly on the pot.Â
âYeah.â Â
A beat passes where the only sound is sizzling roux. Finally, âGot jumped in at fourteen,â he murmurs, âTook my face tatâ the same night.â Â
âIâm sorry. I didnât mean toââ
âItâs good, shawty. You jusâ wanna know.â
He then continues, âLost my lilâ brother not too long after,â The words come out rough-edged, âWrong place, wrong time type shit. Made me realize ain't no glory in that street shit either way.â
The confession hangs heavy between the both of you.Â
ââMoved Uptown right after," His voice gentles, âI finished school, got into the fire academy straight out. âWanted do somethin' that mattered more than colors onnaâ block."
You exhale, absorbing the weight of his answer.Â
A few beats pass before you venture, âI think you matter. Firefighter sounds much more cool than some nigga innaâ gang anyway.â Â
He huffs out a soft chuckle at that, âYou think I donât know Iâm cool?âÂ
You roll your eyes, a grin tugging at your lips, âNo, mister humble. You really donât know just how cool you are.â
You expect a retortâmaybe that cocky smirk you've come to find weirdly endearingâbut he surprises you with a genuine expression instead. It's softer, less guarded than his usual demeanor; the kind that makes you realize he isn't used to taking compliments. Â
Something about that makes your heart skip a beat, but he recovers quick enoughâthat smirk is back in full force as he murmurs, âYou know what is more important than allatâ? Food. This gumbo âboutta be straight fire, too.â
âLawd, here he goâ. Iâm judging like Gordon Ramsay.âÂ
âThatâs cool. We gonâ see.â
The fourth glass of Stella has definitely done its jobâloosening your limbs, flushing your skin, making every thought move slower. Â
Your textbook lays forgotten on the coffee table as you lounge against Bully like a makeshift pillow, fingers lazily stroking his fur while your gaze lingers on Onyankopon with newfound boldness.
Onyankopon checks on you as youâre silentâhe turns to see your low eyes, thick lashes locking onto him from across the kitchen island.Â
âYoâ headache gone?â
You swallow hard around sudden dryness in your throat, managing a weak nod followed by mumbled agreement, âMhm.âÂ
You donât realize, but youâre smiling a bit.
"Uh huh," he rumbles, âYou definitely feelin' that wine."
He wipes his hands on a towel before rounding the island toward youâeach step deliberate, unhurriedâuntil heâs towering over where youâre slumped against Bully. Â
"You good?" his thumb brushes your chin to tilt your face up toward him, "Or I need to cut you off?"
"I'm fine," You murmurâa little too breathless for someone who's supposed to be studying, âI thought you were feedinâ me?â you mindlessly pout in his palm, not realizing how you look beneath him.
He tuts softly, thumb tracing just under your chin, "Now whyâ you lookinâ at me like that?"Â
"Like what?"
Onyankopon exhales through his noseâhalf amusement, half something far more dangerous as he leans in, âYou gone, shawty. Immaâ get you some water.âÂ
Thereâs a sharp, unwelcome pang in your chest when he pulls awayâone that sobers you up faster than any water ever could. You straighten yourself out quietly, adjusting your top and clearing your throat as if that could erase the way his touch lingered.Â
Bully whines when Onyankopon snaps his fingers twice toward the hallââGo on,â The dog obeys instantly, throwing you one last glance before trotting off toward his play room.Â
He returns with two steaming bowls of gumbo, perfectly dark roux, plump shrimp glistening on top. His large frame settles beside you with far more distance than before. Now you really felt rejected.
You take a few bites of that gumbo and have to resist a reaction. It's perfectionâthick, rich, brimming with spices as it slides down your tongue. You can't help but hum in utter satisfaction, eyes nearly drifting shut as you murmur, "Hate to say how good this actually is.âÂ
Onyankopon chuckles softly at the sight, a low rumble that resonates through the space between you two.
âTold you it was gon' be fire."
You roll your eyes, taking another bite. Your head's spinning from the alcohol, but it's nothing compared to the dizzying rush you feel under his gaze whenever you look over at him. You swallow thickly.
"Listen, I'm sorry if Iâm a little too tipsy," You apologize, âItâs been a while since I drank without eating.â
He shakes his head, watching you with that same quiet intensity as he leans back against the couch. Â
"You ain't gotta apologize for nothinâ," he says simply, voice low, âI wasnât trynaâ make you feel bad. âLong as youâ good? Thatâs all that matters to me.âÂ
His words settle over you like a blanketâwarm, reassuring.Â
After a beat of comfortable silence between bites and faint commentary from the game still playing, Onyankopon tilts his head toward your abandoned textbook on the coffee table, âSo why embalmin'?"Â
He asks this casuallyâlike it's normal dinner conversation, âAinât many people wake up one day thinkinâ they wanna drain bodies for a livinâ.âÂ
The question catches you off guard enough that laughter bubbles out. You compose yourself again, âIt sounds bad when you put like that,â You admit with a slight shake of your head.
Your fingers trace the rim of the bowl while gathering your thoughts. You then sigh, âIâve always been fascinated by death. Not in a morbid way, butââ you search for the right wordsââMore about how we treat it? Honor it? My grandmother used to tell me stories growing up about how theyâd wash the dead themselves before burial, and sit with them the whole night so the spirits weren't alone.â
Then quieter, you almost become shy about the subject matter.Â
âI wanted to do work that meant something even if nobody ever thanked me for it.â
You pause mid rambling, a shy giggle releasing your lips. Onyankopon encourages your words with a quiet, âKeep goinâ.âÂ
He is so goddamn attractive like thisâfocused on you completely while his food goes ignored, âI'll listen all night."
The warmth of alcohol and his attention makes you soften. You lean your head against the couch, studying him with a lazy, appreciative smile. Â
"Sweet," you murmur, "Even though you look like you could break me in half."Â Â
Onyankopon's smirk is instantâsharp and knowing as he leans forward slightly, elbows on his knees again. But he doesnât deny it; just lets that statement linger between you like a challenge.Â
"When was the last time somebody had all this?" Your fingers gesture vaguely at his whole existence, "Don't lie either."
He blinks, expression unchanging for a beat before shruggingâalmost too nonchalant, âCouple months."Â
You raise a skeptical brow, "Couple months,â you echo mockingly, "Thatâs all?"Â
"Why?" He returns, "You got a nigga or sumâ?"
Your expression deadpans, âDonât be funny, nigga. Why would I be here if I did?â
"Ain't trynaâ be funny. Just askin'."
When he speaks again, his voice is much rougher than before.Â
"When was the last time you beenâ with somebody, then?"
You exhale slowly, swirling the last of your wine before finishing it off. The admission feels heavier now that itâs out in the openâfloating between you two like something tangible. Â
"A year," you admit with a slight shrug, "Not for any big reason. Just felt like breakinâ the streak wasnât worth it.âÂ
Your fingers trace the rim of your empty glass absently before adding quieter, "Especially not when I got school and this career to focus on."Â Â
His gaze remains steady on yours; a silent, almost dangerous intensity as he murmurs, "Ainât nobody had you innaâ year?â
You swallow hard, thighs clenching involuntarily as you force yourself to keep your composure. But as you go to part your lipsâthe game roars within the room, catching your attention and cutting the tension youâd felt before.
You giggle a little awkwardly, suddenly needing to do somethingâanything to shake off the lingering heat between you two. Washing dishes sounded pretty excusable.Â
âI got these.â
Onyankopon watches you for a beat as you make your way to the kitchen, only a beat. He then pushes off the couch with a quiet chuckle, following you into the kitchen anyway. You feel him before you see himâhis broad frame crowds behind you, reaching around to rinse his own bowl under the sink water.Â
âThought I was doinâ those?â You question halfheartedlyâeyes flicking over your shoulder to eye him, âI told you I had it.â
He doesnât answer right awayâjust turns off the faucet and places his dishes aside without breaking contact with your body once. It happens so subtlyâstrong arms snake around waist from behind, pulling you gently against him in one slow motion until there is no space left between.
 His chin rests atop of your shoulder that it makes you giggle, the sound breathless as you let your head tilt back against him. He rests atop your curls while the both of you sway gentlyâlike there's some slow song playing only the two of you can hear. Â
"âThought you were supposed to be watching the game, Ony.âÂ
"Game borinâ.âÂ
Then?Â
"Been tryna' be good all night,â He admits gruffly into your skinâhis fingers tighten their grip ever so slightly at your hips when he feels the way they tremble, "Ain't workinâ.â
Your breath hitches when his lips press against your neckâwarm, soft, teasing. You canât help but hum nervously, squirming slightly in his hold.Â
âOny.âÂ
You giggle playfully, but it comes out more like a whine when he drags another slow kiss just below your ear.
His hands rub soothing circles against your waist like heâs trying to calm you down, even as he continues trailing those maddeningly light kisses along the column of your throat. Â
"Stop actin' scared,â He murmurs, âAinât gottaâ run from me.â
You lean back fully against him, tilting your head up just enough for your nose to brush against his. Another giggle, met with a low chuckle both filled with heat. Onyankoponâs breath fans over your lipsâwarmâbefore you close that tiny distance yourself, pulling him down into a slow, deep kiss. Â
His grip tightens on your waist as soon as your lips meet, the sound of soft sucking filling the kitchen between shaky exhales. You can feel his tongue slide against yours in lazy strokesâno rush, just pure indulgenceâeach press of his mouth making the heat coil tighter in your stomach until youâre panting between kisses. Â
Your heads tilt opposite ways naturally every time he pulls back slightly before diving back in; noses bumping playfully, locking together again even deeper than before. Thatâs when you stick your tongue out, fully stroking it with his.Â
Onyankopon breaks the kiss just long enough to murmur, "Goddamn,â before he grabs your face and yanks you back up against him with a hungry gruntâtongue licking into your mouth immediately. Â
Heâs sucking your bottom lip, tugging it between teeth before slipping between your open mouth again; thatâs when you feel a smack on your assâyou squeak breathlessly, giggling as you tug your mouth awayââBullyâs barking, Ony.âÂ
Onyankopon doesnât even flinch at the sound of Bullyâs distant barking. He just slides one hand up to cradle the back of your neck, tilting your face back toward his with a low, throaty growl. Â
âFuckinâ hell, Bully.âÂ
His mouth crashes into yours againâhotter this time, hungrier, tongue sweeping past your lips before you can even process the curse. You finally manage to think, pulling away long enough to murmur, âYou gottaââ you swallow hard when the words come out in a hoarse exhale, ââGotta feed him.âÂ
It takes a beat for his breathing to even outâa rough exhale as he leans forward, chasing your mouth for a second kiss that you manage to evade with a breathless laugh. He exhales roughly, âYouâ trynaâ kill a nigga.â
âYou can show me to your room first,â you hum, âCarry me?â
Onyankopon doesn't hesitateâhis hands slide under your thighs in one smooth motion, hoisting you up effortlessly as you wrap your legs around his waist. Â
"Greedy.â
Heâs stealing another kiss, deeper this time, tongue sliding against yours as he walks backward through the apartment without looking away from you once. Â
His bedroom is exactly what youâd expectâdimly lit sunset LED strips running along the ceiling, casting shadows over sleek black furniture. The walls are adorned with bold, striking paintings; splashes of color against dark canvases that look like they cost a fortune. A massive king-sized bed dominates the space, neatly made black satin sheets practically gleaming under the glow of those lights.
Onyankopon carries you straight to it without breaking strideâbarely managing to kick his door shut behind him before dumping you unceremoniously onto that sea of silk. You bounce once before heâs crawling over you with slow precision; one hand already tugging at your waistband while his mouth finds yours again in a kiss so filthy it should be illegal. Heâs dropping his tongue in your mouth, snarling against your lips like heâs hungry for you.Â
âThis whatchuâ wanted?âÂ
You stifle kisses through giggles, fingers tracing along his sharp jawline. He groans into your mouthâlow and guttural, before you break the kiss to teasingly murmur, "Go feed Bully," against swollen, reddened, lips.Â
Your tongue runs across his mouth, âIâll be here,â sucking on his lips, making that your promise.
Another groan, this time even darker than the previous one. He reluctantly pushes himself off the bed, eyes flashing dangerous when he looks down at you.  Â
"Behave, girl.âÂ
You hear him murmuring to Bully in the other roomâlow, affectionate growls of âYeah, yeahâeat,â The sound of kibble hitting a bowl follows as you glance around his space again, eyes catching on the small tray tucked neatly on his nightstand. A half-rolled blunt rests atop it alongside a lighter and some rolling papers. Â
Before you can investigate further, the door creaks open againâOnyankopon leans against the frame with eyes only on you.
âNosy.âÂ
Youâre like something out of his fantasy. Your freckles dance beneath the lights of the room, curls draping around your curvy frame at the position you sit along the bed. You sit along your knees as you lean forward, ââMissed me?â
Heâs tongue in cheekâbig hands already working at the buckle of his belt, expressing pure hunger as he locks onto where youâre sprawled across his sheets.Â
"I did. Iâm done playin' nice with yoâ ass too.â
Your lips curl into a slow, teasing smile as your eyes rake over himâtatted arms flexing as he undoes that belt, that hungry glare in his gaze fixated.Â
âSoâŚFirefighter Onyankopon,â you purr, âThey donât drug test you?â Â
His smirk deepens as he stalks closer, knees pressing into the mattress where you lounge. One hand grips your ankle to drag you firmly towards him, âNah,â then, âYou tryna smoke?â Â
You bite down on your lower lip, âMhm.âÂ
Onyankopon stands at the edge of the bed, blunt already rolled and sealed between his lips as he flicks the lighter. The flame hisses to life, illuminating the sharp planes of his face for just a secondâcheeks hollowing as he takes that first deep pull. Smoke swirls around him when he exhales slowly, eyes locked onto you like prey through low lids. He holds it out between two fingersâtaunting as he curls his fingers towards himself.
âCome get it,â His voice is rough with smoke and something darker; command laced beneath amusement.
And at his words? You crawl.
Knees pressed into satin sheets, your hips sway with each deliberate movement until youâre close enough to smell that rich, earthy sweetness clinging to him. His free hand grips your chin at the last secondâholding you back from taking it, leaning down so his next exhale coats your parted lips in hazy warmth.
ââThought I told yoâ ass not to tease no more,â he grunts, letting go, âOpen.âÂ
You lean back just enough to take a deep pull from the blunt, holding the smoke in your lungs before exhaling slowlyâright into his face with a wicked grin on your full lips.
Onyankopon doesnât flinch. Just watching, those dark eyes tracking every shift of your mouthâevery taunting breath out. He finds a grip on your throat, fingers digging in just enough to make you shiver.
"Told you,â he murmurs lowly, voice roughened by smoke, âPlay too fuckinâ much.âÂ
You slide your palm beneath his shirt, rubbing the sculpt of his tatted abdomen.Â
He grunts, ââGon' learn today.âÂ
Your teeth dip into the plush of your lip, tugging your hands along the hem of his pantsâyour lashes flutter, âLemmeâ put it in my mouth, Ony.â
His grip on your neck tightens. Onyankoponâs head tilts slightly, eyes going dark enough to match the room, those muscles jumping against your skin in anticipation. Â
âGonâ head.â
The moment you tug his tip from beneath his briefs? It nearly smacks you in the face, bigger than you imagined it to be. Itâs veiny under your tiny palm, and the size of it makes you horny. You drag your tongue against the entire length of him, wrapping your lips along the tip as you immediately begin sucking.
âFuck,â he groansâlow and roughâyouâre so crossfaded that youâre already stroking him up and down with your hand and tongue together before pulling upâsloppy as saliva drools from your lips, dragging until he falls free. You look up at him through your own reddened eyes, pupils blown wide, just a moment before he grabs onto your hair, guiding you back down. Â
 âLook at me witâ them muhfuckinâ eyes.âÂ
You do, mouth open and tongue out. He grunts, smoke spilling from between his own lips.
The sight of your mouth wrapped so perfectly around him was like a dream, poking through your cheek from his size. Even the taste of him is dark and rich, mixed with the sweet burn of the bluntâthat scent and smoke swirling in the air as he takes another pull.
You move faster to make him moan, sucking him deep. He drops the blunt somewhere to grab your head with his free handâthick fingers digging into your curls in ways that make you whine as he guides you against him. Youâre taking him as deep as you canâthroating him, your mouth tugging back as you whimper, ââDick so pretty, baby.â
The air fills with the sounds of your moans and his deep grunts, the scent of weed and smoke still lingering. Heâs using your mouth like it was made for him, like your mouth was made to take him, âMouth so fuckinâ soft, Mama. You suckinâ this dick.âÂ
You try to respond between wet, rough sucksâ all you can manage are slurred whimpers that somehow make him fuller in your mouth. You pull back once more, âSpit on it.â
He obliges, of course.
Onyankopon lowered his mouth, dropping spit on his own dick. Itâs dirty, sloppy. But seeing you like this? Mindless, pliantâ was like no other. You grip the base in your fist and drool onto him, coating those veined ridges with your own mess before swallowing him again.  Â
You donât stopâyou stick your pink, slippery tongue out, drooling down the length of himâslicking it up good. He makes a sound in his chest thatâs almost animal, thick fingers holding you still while he strokes it against your tongueâyou just moaned.Â
 Itâs rough and delicious as you slurp and drool, taking him down while sliding your hands up and down over what you canât reachâyour eyes nearly flutter shut as you slur out, "Taste sogood, baby.âÂ
Heâs all you can taste.
Your pretty eyes are a haze, curls draping through his fingers like sable oceans. Youâre lazily stroking him now as you pull your mouth backâyou run your tongue along your lips as you whimper, âSo big, Ony. Not gonnaâ fit in me.â
His smirk is cocky as you salivate on him, eyes half-lidded but laser-focused on the way your mouth moves along his shaft. Heâs too big to take, and he knows it.
âNah, ainât gonâ fit you,â he agrees, voice gruff, âGonâ make you fit me.â  Â
You give him that dazed look again, eyes muddledâdrunk off his smell, his tasteâ your hands grip him again and start stroking him back and forth. His hand cups the back of your neck once moreâfirm but careful, holding you still as he strokes himself into your mouth over, over and over again.Â
Maybe pleasuring him was distracting your own thoughts of having to take himâbut it seems youâve been caught, as Onyankopon yanks you by your curls, tugging you back in a way to lock your lips with his own. Youâre both greedy as you push your head deeper when you kiss one another, tongue sliding against his like youâd never kiss him again.
Itâs as if you didnât just have him bulging within your mouth. The moment his fingers slide down your stomach, dipping beneath your shorts as your legs spread open beneath himâyour body tenses, dragging your fingers along the back of his neck as you kiss him shyly.
The sight of your pussy was mesmerizingâalready soaked, flushed pink and twitching beneath your shorts.Â
âYoâ shit prettier than a muhfuckaâ," Onyankopon murmursâhalf to himself, half a rough compliment aimed at the way you shudder when his thumb drags through your slick folds. You tremble, hips jerking up off the mattress with a small gaspâyour grip on his neck tightens all at once, all while those thick fingers begin working slow circles over your clit.
Itâs no words, just a high pitched whimper escaping your swollen lips.
You pout along his mouth, spreading your legs just a bit moreâyour voice is so soft, begging as you mewl, âPut emâ in me.âÂ
He grunts, âImmaâ slide them in slow.â
You nod, shuddering. Thatâs exactly how you want it.Â
Onyankoponâs thumb stills at your clitâthe roughness of his fingers drags down, sinking inside so slowâhe presses forward, burying nearly to the knuckle with a single push. Â
You donât expect the reaction you giveâbut a year of no sexual activity in fact leaves you tight, two fingers nearly being the death of you in this moment. It feels so good, youâre creaming on his fingers, tears glistening within your eyes as you sob in pleasure, âOh my god, Ony.â
âWhyâ this shit so fuckinâ wet already?â He grumbles through his own parted mouthâhis palm grinds over your clit, dropping his fingers in, listening to your folds squelch in return. It doesnât help that Onyankoponâs grunting into your mouth every time his fingers sink in.Â
You tug your mouth inches from hisâyou mindlessly pant, âI needed that so bad,â itâs soft, breathy as he adds another finger in even slower.Â
âKeep talkinâ to me.â
âTheyâre so big,â you softly whimper, âStretchinâ me.âÂ
When his fingers curl, you gaspâyour mouth pulls back from his, palm reaching for his fingers to tug them outâyou feel his other hand grip you by the throat, yanking your mouth back onto his.Â
âIonâ do that runninâ shit,â he grunts, âYou gonâ take me.â
His fingers slide right back in, spreading you wide as he sinks down to the knuckle once more. Itâs hard to catch your balance when heâs rocking you onto his fingers like thisâyour hands find his wide shoulders to grip onto, head spinning at this point.Â
Youâre shakingâtrembling beneath him as he growls into your kiss, those big hands clenching harder against your neck before sliding down. He licks your lips, âGoodbaby. Watch my fingers just goinâ in.âÂ
And you do. In and out, theyâre just going.Â
Maybe he was just good with his handsâin seconds, your shorts are removed, back fully hitting the soft comforterâyour clit is being stroked by his tongue, all while his fingers still plummet in and out of you.
Heâs so roughâhungry as his mouth feasts on you, eating you out like a man starved of oxygen. Your moans get lost in the sheets, every sensation sending you into a spiral as youâre trapped beneath him, fingers still stretching you out just right. And the noises, theyâre getting wetter and messier each minute.Â
Youâre panting, âFuck, baby.âÂ
âThis bitch drippinâ,â he murmured against your clit, another lick as you mewled helplessly, hands clenching the sheets beneath your fingers, writhing against his mouth that was eating you messily. Your legs are shaking, thighs attempting to close around his head.
âHold âem back.âÂ
Heâs reaching for your thighs in that warning voice. His tongue flattens over your clit, sucking.Â
Thatâs when your vision starts to fade, head spinning as you desperately try to stay present with him. You nod your compliance though, pouting as you hold your thighs open by the tips of your nails, spreading your pussy open.Â
You mewl to him, âWannaâ watch your tongue go in me, baby.â
His tongue plunges in with a grunt of, âThatâs a gooood fuckinâ girl.âÂ
Your back arches off the bed, head tilting all the way back. Itâs just too much, being filled like thisâevery nerve lighting hot and sensitive with so much of him all at once.Â
âYouâ so wet.âÂ
He sounds lostâvoice disappearing between strokes of his tongue, âYou. So. Fuckinâ. Wet,â sinking insideâhis fingers take over again, pumping thick and slow, âYou taste good everywhere, girl. Goddamn.â Â
Heâs eating you faster, moaning as his mouth works at your clit againâhis tongue slips in between your spread folds, lapping like a canine. Youâre shaking beneath him, head in the clouds with nothing but gasps to give.Â
Your hand reaches down to grip the back of his headâand he doesnât resist, just allows you to guide his mouth right where you need him most. Your legs shake on either side of his head as he buries his face into your clit, âIâm goinâ all in, baby. Keep droppinâ yoâ shit on my tongue.âÂ
You were gonna blackout if you let him keep going. You pull him up by the coil of his goatee, sliding your tongue into his mouth with a moan. Hands grip your waist under your shirt as you both share another messy, nasty kiss. You feel his hands pushing your top up, freeing your huge, heavy titsâand then, his mouth is on them.Â
Something about your nipples being sucked always made you infinitely more hornyâyou breathily giggle as you whimper, âOoh, baby. I love that.â
His mouth was insistentâtaking turns with your stiff nipples in his mouth, suckling and licking as they hardened more. He was rough as he grunted, âPretty ass fuckinâ titties,â tongue circling them in the best way, teeth tugging just right.Â
You ramble, âImmaâ take your dick so good, Daddy.âÂ
Onyankopom grunts at the name. Your grip on his durag tightens when he slides two fingers back through your foldsâjust to test youâjust to make you whimper.Â
You donât run.
Your legs are spread open wide for him as he holds you, âYou gonâ let me fuck you?â
âPromise, baby.â
âYeah? Gonâ let me take this pussy how I wanna take it?â
Youâre nodding, begging, essentiallyâbut that mightâve been stupid on your part. Because when he lays the both of you on your side, yet somehow trapping your legs over his shoulders in a missionary position? Youâd never been put like this before.Â
One arm rests over your knees, the other sliding along the back of your neck in a way that traps you. Your body tenses the moment you feel his tip slapping amongst your soaked folds, your doe eyes peering through his low ones, needy, vulnerable.
As he sinks in, your folds spread apart slowly. Even with how wet you are, the uncomfortable stretch of pleasure burns your stomach like fire, every inch sinking deeper by the second.Â
âYou look so small like this, like you breakinâ.âÂ
You try to respondâanything to sound like you have any semblance of controlâbut your mouth only parts open, eyes rolling at the whiplash of pleasure and discomfort.
âYou know you ainât runninâ, huh?âÂ
You nod, eyes glazed over as he sinks further inside, âUghn, shit.â
Heâs not even halfway in by the time your legs are shaking around his head, hands fisting sheets in a white knuckle grip as he stretches you out, spreading you wide. Youâre moaning so helplessly as he slides in another inch. Your hands reach for hisâfinding his thick, rough ones so you could squeeze them for dear life.Â
His voice is a low groan in your ear, âYou takinâ it so good.âÂ
Heâs smacking your ass, spanking again at how good you feel.Â
Youâd never been filled like this beforeânot this deep or this girthy. Youâre trembling in his arms, eyes glassy as he leans forward, forcing your legs wider by the backs of your thighs, âI told youâ keep themâ eyes onnaâ nigga.âÂ
You tuck your face within the pillow as you feel the first strokeâheâs still not even fully in, your face pouting as the first expression you give him.
The second stroke, your whole body clenches, fingers fisting the sheets so hard, eyes rolling at one slow roll of his hips. Â
âOoooohh, my god.â Â
Another stroke, deepââUghh, fuuuck.âÂ
âYou sound too pretty, girl.âÂ
Youâre whining as he strokes a slow, deep rhythm inside of you, your head tossing between the pillow and his face. Your arms throw around his shoulders, fingernails digging into the back of his neck with a vice grip like youâre trying to keep yourself groundedâanything to make sense of the intensity of it all, curls spreading all across your cheek and pillow.Â
Heâs still pressing you down onto his lap, holding you in place as he just keeps rolling his hips with a grunt, âOoh, fuck.âÂ
You nod so fast, whimpering at that feeling of him in so deep, stroking you open. Heâs holding your bottom left thigh up in the air, spreading you in a way that made you ache at how much he was giving you, âYou hearinâ us?â This shit sloppy as fuck.â
The air was a chorus of mixed breaths, grunts, your guttural moans and sloppy wet sounds from his strokes splitting you apart. Onaynkoponâs hips move slower than heâd ever thought possibleâyou were just too tight for anything too hard.Â
Squish. Squish.Squish. Heâs slow strokingâwhich means heâs pounding into youâhis balls are slapping at the cheeks of your ass, his tip bouncing at your cervix in the meanest way. You lock your mouth around his arm, groaning deeply as your eyes roll back.Â
âUghh⌠Ughhh⌠Oh, my god⌠Ugh.â
It happensâyou drench his tip as you squirt on him, the groan sinking into a squeal as your thighs tremble dangerously. You tuck your mouth back onto his arm to calm yourself, moaning helplessly through his flesh.
âThatâs so good, Mama. Good lilâ bitch, squirt all on me,â Onyankoponâs voice is an octave deeper when he growls onto your lips, âMake a mess on my fuckinâ dick.âÂ
He snaps his hips forward roughly, almost punishing that spot heâd found for this reaction. Your gasp is prolonged, a broken cry grunting from your lipsâyouâre singing, âOhhhh my god!âÂ
Your whining was delicious as it spilled onto his arm, his mouth hot on your ear that he began mumbling nasty things into. You feel one hand slide up to grip a fistful of hair at the back of your head, moaning into his chest. Your whole spine was shaking because of that roughness, your legs were shakingâhis hips still bouncing brutally between your legs. But his last sentence left you pulverized.
âYou think Iâm done with you?â
In fact, he wasnât.Â
Your sanity was being held by your fingers weakly pressing against the headboard for leverageâyouâre now ass up, face down into the comforter as Onyankoponâs palms grip you by both arms, tugging you onto his dick. Your eyes are rolled back, moaning to him chaotically.
Youâd never looked this prettyâthis fucked.
You canât even see the expression on his face behind you, not when your eyes keep watering, or rolling back. All you could feel was the brutal snaps of his hips, that grip he has holding you spread so wide for him. Your ass docks on his skin with every thck, thck, thck of his strokes. Your face is smothered between the sheets as you moan into the space, too lost to even speak, let alone think of anything else.
âFuck me back,â he grunts, âLemmeâ see this bitch bounce.âÂ
Your body responds by instinct, fingers fisting the sheets in a white knuckle grip as your ass bounces to that pace heâd set. You can feel the wetness between your cheeks as he slides in over, over, overâŚ
You managed to pull yourself partially up the bed, hands gripping the pillow as your voice cried toward him.Â
You clench when you hear him groan behind youâhis hands spread your folds to keep you open for him, so far forward that youâre on your elbows as heâs pounding against your spot. Your breath hitches when he groans, âOoooh, girl. Fuck.âÂ
Your ass jiggled against his hips, those wet sounds echoing between your legs as he stretched you open with every stroke. The sound of your ass clapping against him was downright pornographic. Heâs gripping you by your lower waist to make your pussy grind against him even more, taking you roughly.Â
âBounce on this big dick.âÂ
You turn to find his eyes, reaching your hand up against his lower abdomenâyouâre dropping your ass down to his abdomen, your eyes rolling as you mewl, ââBalls hitting my pussy, baby. Go slow,â you whimper, âJust pound me.â
His grip was practically bruising against your hips, guiding you into that bouncing pace heâd set. Your body was trembling with itâthose slow, punishing strokes leaving your head spinning. Your face was smeared down against the sheets again.Â
Youâre catatonic at this point.Â
His hips were still goingâthicker strokes that left you shouting every time he pushed back in. His face was still expressionless, the darkness in his eyes still so intense like the first time youâd met him. Youâre barely even coherent at this point, just a mess of moans and words that didnât make sense.
âYou finnaâ tap out, huh?â
You can only grunt, too busy trying to hold yourself together as your face pushes further into the mattress.
You were too goneâtoo gone to even form words right now. You barely had enough control over your body either, your thighs and knees were trembling with every stroke he gave. You felt him in your stomach, your spine, every nerveâhe was all you thought about as you moaned into the sheets. He was turning your brain into white noiseâyour vision was almost blurry.Â
Thatâs when you give a whineâitâs loud, so loud that it drags, squirting all on him once moreâyouâre messily rubbing your clit, bouncing yourself back through your overstimulating pleasure. Youâre a whimpering mess to him, âI love this dick, baby. Fuck me, just fuck meâŚâ Â
His eyes darkened as your back arched, spine curling forward as that dazed expression danced across that pretty face. Youâd squirted all over him againâhis hands pulled away as he sat back, looking down at the way your body was squirming, hips still bouncing against the mattress.Â
Youâre looking back at him from under your heavy eyes, mouth moving to try and speak but all that came out was another whine,, âUghh⌠uh, uh.â Â
âYouâre so fucked out, huh?â He murmured, hand spanking your ass harder than heâd done before, smoothing it over as he heard you sniffle.Â
âLemmeâ give you themâ slow strokes.âÂ
He gently places you on your back, dragging you under his looming frame to place your legs back along his shoulders. The moment he slides back in, Onyankopon presses his nose to yours, nuzzling it as you did to him earlier in the night. The feeling makes you emotional in a way you hadnât expectedâtears glisten in your eyes, your arms wrapping around his neck as you just take him.Â
His head buried itself in the crook of your neck as he murmured, âYouâre so beautiful,â sliding out, back in, all the way out, âYou good, baby? I ainât hurt you, huh?â
Your hands slide up to his hair, tugging at his durag as you finally manage to breathe, âNeed you, Ony.âÂ
His face is the closest itâs been to smiling in the night. His hand slides down to grip your knee, holding your thigh in place against him.Â
âNeed you too, girl.âÂ
Youâre giving him small, broken cries. His face is within your neck as your mouth is by his ear, whining softly as your body trembles like youâd been tased. His mouth kept pressing against the top of your head between his rough murmurs, the words too quiet and jumbled for you to really understand.Â
âIâm cumming, OnyâŚâ
âI know, baby.âÂ
His voice was hushed against your neck, hands pressing your hips down into his to keep you still. Your nails dug into his back, teeth biting down on a shoulder to try and muffle your moans.Â
âUghhâŚOh. Oh my god. Fuugghhh. Fuck.âÂ
Your arms were wrapped around his neck in a death grip, holding him to you as you moaned and mewled through your orgasm. You shiver, sniffling as you nuzzle his nose once moreâyou hear a low chuckle, a soft kiss being snatched against your lips.
You were crazy, but it was in the moment.
âCum in me, baby. Fill me up,â you tremble, âPlease.âÂ
And thatâs when you hear itâa real moan from Onyankopon.
You didnât even realize how quiet heâd been in contrast to your moans and pants. But the moment he moaned against your neck, itâs all you could focus on. You hold him tighter as you feel the warmth within your folds, Onyankopon grinding into you, moaning into your ear.Â
You felt his face in your neck again when he finally collapsed against youâstill connected to you, his full weight falling flat against your chest as his arms locked around your waist. You stroked his hair, his durag ending up somewhere away from the bedâhis forehead pressed into your neck as he inhaled deep.Â
Almost ten minutes of silence went by.Â
âYouâre heavy.â
You had murmured this, your fingers running down the ridges on his back, feeling the curve of his mouth pull into a grin. His hands roamed your sides, squeezing at the flesh just under your ribs as he murmured back, ââFeel good, Mama. Iâm sorry.â
Now it was your turn to blush, the words being a sweet surpriseâyour hands slid up to his cheeks, fingers stroking that dark beard as you giggled once more.Â
âYou donât gotta be sorry, Onyankopon.âÂ
You ran the pad of your thumb over the ridge of his mouth, tracing over the roughness of his lips, âYouâre good.âÂ
You gave a small grin, âYou were good.â
âDamn right I was.âÂ
You huffed a laugh that was more like another giggle, hands sliding up once more to run through his hair. His arms wound back around your waist, his mouth sliding up to suckle a new hickey onto your neck. You shivered as he continued, âYou got a cute lilâ laugh, you know that?â
âAnd somehow you have a boner,â you flick his nose, âUnhand me!â
âNot my fault youâ fine as hell.âÂ
But he did release you, rolling off of you with some effort.Â
Onyankapon watched you closely, able to see the wince on your face from the soreness you began to feel.
âYou okay, Mama?â
Thatâs when you shake your headâyou throw yourself back onto his body, wanting his warmth and comfort, âNo. âThink you scraped my insides worse than a Pap smear,â you murmur, âCuddle me.â
âJust say youâ clingy, girl.â
He chuckled, arms wrapping back around your waistâthis time, pulling you on top of him. Your head rested on his chest, your body splayed out in a tangle of limbs.Â
You find yourself reaching up for his earlobe, rubbing comfortingly at the flesh. You then ask, âIs clingy bad for you?â
âNah.âÂ
His voice held an honesty that you werenât sure you were expecting. His hands smoothed over your back, fingers spreading across that soft expanse of skin.
He then confirmed, âI like clingy.â
âEven if Iâm a bad cook? Youâll still like me?â
âEspecially if youâ a bad cook.âÂ
You felt the roughness of his beard graze against the crown of your head, âYou gonâ be a mess in my kitchen.âÂ
His voice held a gruffness, but there was an underlying affection underneath it that you hadnât quite heard from him much tonightâbut you liked it, and so did he.
The both of you begin to doze off, his fingers captured in a coil of your curls, your fingers tucked within his chest. But thatâs when you hear itâa phone buzzing, loud enough to hear, but quiet enough to ignore.
A second call. This one makes him exhale sharply through his nose, and by the third, heâs growling under his breath as he reaches blindly for the nightstand. Â
âYeahâŚYeahâŚNow?âÂ
A pause.Â
Then a grunt, âAight. Gimmeâ twenty.â Â
He hangs up without another word and sits up abruptly, scrubbing a hand over his faceâ turning back towards you, an apologetic frown was already forming on his lips.Â
"I gotta go, shawty. Niggas got me on a distress call.âÂ
Thatâs all he says at firstâbut you must have made some kind of face, because heâs suddenly hovering above you, one hand planted next to your head while the other cups your chin firmly.
"Ain't kickin' you out," he murmurs, pressing a hard kiss onto your forehead like a punctuation mark between sentences, "Get yo' ass under them covers."
You heard him, but you were sensitiveâhe obviously didnât know that. You tug the covers close to your chest as your eyes watch him go back and forth, a small pout along your face regardless of his words.
He could see the way you curled in on yourselfâprotecting yourself, evenâand it left a strange emotion burning in his chest. Thatâs when he sighed heavily, running a hand over his face once more as he padded toward the bed, sitting himself on the edge.
"C'mere, baby."
You feel dramatic.
âI didnât mean toââ
"Nuh-Uh,â he cuts you off, grabbing your wrist to tug you into his lap in one swift movement, legs on either side of his hips. He pulls the blankets tight around the two of youâyour head buried into his chest as he keeps you tucked against him.Â
"Look at me, pretty girl.âÂ
You were pouting still, eyes averted from his gaze as you stubbornly kept your lips pursed. That is, until he forced your stubborn eyes to meet his once more.
"I ain't tryin' to kick you out, aight? I just gotta go take care of business.âÂ
Youâre still frowning.Â
He leans down to press a firm kiss against your forehead, arms tightening their hold on your waist to keep you against him.Â
"C'mon, don't be mad at me now."
Onyankopon's voice drops to that deep, rumbling registerâthe one he uses to get your attentionâyouâve picked up on that.Â
"You really gonâ sit here poutinâ while I gotta go handle this?" His thumb swipes over your bottom lip, tugging it down playfully, âAin't even said you gonâ miss me."Â Â
Thenâbefore you can protestâhis mouth crashes onto yours in a kiss thatâs all tongue, teeth, and promise. Itâs messy enough to make your toes curl, his hand sliding from your chin to the back of your neck to keep you locked in place. Itâs to let you know that he wanted you, and everything that came with that.
"Stay right here. Keep my shit warm,â a pause, âOr I could bend yo' ass over this mattress one more time
 âfore I leaveâyour choice."
That finally got you to squirm and grumble in his lapâyour fingers dig into the meat of his back in a futile attempt to escape him.Â
"I was playin',â he grunted, nipping your bottom lip as if to prove a point, "Goddamn, girl. I was playin'.âÂ
âBye, Onyankopon.â
âWhat kinda âbyeâ, huh? Like you gonâ sneak off once I leave?â
You sigh, rolling your eyes. But of courseâyou smile.Â
âCall Bully in here so I can cuddle with my actual man.â
"Forreal?" Onyankopon repeats, looking down at you with one brow raised in disbelief.Â
You can tell he's trying to hold back the grin that's threatening to lift at his lipsâthose dark eyes of his narrowing with mock-offense, "That's what you call yoâ forrealâ nigga? That raggedy ass mutt?"Â
You giggled, âGo, Superman. Save the world.â
He gives you one last look, a boyish grin you could find yourself getting used to.
