Warnings: Language, Traditional Gender Roles, Controlling!Terry, Daddy Issues, Smut (+18) mdni, Degradation Kink, DDLG, Daddy Kink, Controlled Orgasm, Unprotected Sex
A/n: Reader literally calls him Daddy. Please don't read this if that's not your vibe.
When your days weren't spent caring for your home as an active military wife, you engaged in reading, crocheting, baking and positively, actively avoiding the southern housewives that haunted your sunny cul-de-sac. Terry knew you'd much rather be doing things alone when he was at work.
This woman was intruding on your alone time.
"We've got to stick together!" the woman had said, her voice dripped like her honeycomb hair haloing her head. You wouldn't have willingly opened the front door had you known she would be lurking on the other side. The amicable smile that was on your face was cracking.
You initially thought it might be your husband, come to surprise you, knocking off from work earlier than usual. All throughout the day, you had been eager to see him.
He had left you in quite the state this morning.
"Faster," he had commanded in that mahogany veneered voice as he watched you try and fail to give yourself even a sliver of the kind of pleasure you were used to. He liked watching you struggle to take your fingers that were far too small, nothing like his large, skillful hands that would drill into your cunt when you needed it to.
"Why are you slowing down?" He enquired calmly, his head leaning against the headboard as he watched you try to please yourself in order please him to the best of your abilities.
You were seated between his legs with your legs spread open. The only contact established between you two was your ass pressed against that bulge straining his boxers. If Terry was a lesser man, he'd forget that he was trying to teach you a lesson about coming without permission. If he wasn't so deeply wired with self control he mightve said fuck the lesson and pulled his cock out to slide inside your weeping cunt.
But he wasn't a lesser man.
And no matter how hard he got, he loved watching you struggle to make yourself cum.
"M'sorry okay?" Gone was the trace of bratiness in your tone. All that was left was a little girl's pathetic whine and even that made him harder.
"M'sorry, I wont cum without your permission again-" you craned your head back. Your cloudy hair moved across his chest as you met his eyes, "Please help me," you hoped eyes displayed your desperation. Even if that weren't enough you knew your next words would be. "Please, Daddy-" he made a sharp intake of breath and you knew you had him.
"I need y-"
"I need to go to work-"
Your eyes nearly popped out of your skull as the man behind you moved to rid himself of you.
"What!? You're just going to leave like that?!"
"Who're you talking to?" He had asked so calmly, with his head tilted, corralling you into absolute silence.
"I-"
"Give it' till this afternoon," he wasn't a complete monster. He kissed you on your forehead, making you feel whole even for a split second before ridding himself of you once again.
"Can you be good for me until this afternoon?" You loved when he did that. You loved when he spoke down at you, as if you weren't sporting numerous degrees. As if you weren't a fully autonomous woman.
You liked the break he gave you from thinking.
"I can." You had said. Completely determined not to touch yourself until he arrived home.
All day, your brain had been fuzzy with thoughts of him. 'The dangers of being a housewife', your best friend had called it. He was consuming your every thought. Your mind was plagued by images of him inside you. Your mouth. Your cunt. Your mind.
You had no time for this. Not time for her.
"We?" You reiterate with your head slightly tilted as you lean against the door you were itching to slam shut in her face. "We should stick together?" You asked it as if hoping to make sense of how in what world a woman like her and a woman like you might ever be classified as 'we'. In front of you stood the seemingly perfect example of a nuclear housewife. Poodle puff golden hair, bright eerie smile and a body that could reproduce, seemingly at will.
"Yes!" The blonde woman said, "Us wives of veterans, we need to stick together-"
"Oh-" you were in the process of shaking your head, "I- don't really see myself as a product of Terry's-"
"I think we should have a little meet up tonight! We'll wrangle up the husbands and the kids-"
"I've got no kids," You said so curtly it could've given anyone a harsh chill.
"You and Terry have no children?" Judging by the look on her face you could swear you've just admitted to some form of bio terrorism.
"No kids?" She nodded gravely. Far too gravely. "H-How interesting, well. That's okay! I'll just call our babysitter- She's a lovely girl. Hopefully you find someone like her when you and Terry finally get to it-"
"When her and Terry get to what?" You hadn't even heard that roar of the truck easing up the driveway, your mind had been far too plagued with images of your childless marriage to really pay it any mind. But you're very much of him now as he appears behind that stupid little housewife.
Like Pavlov's dog, your body and all its machinations react to the sound of Terry's voice alone.
The gravel that seemed to roll in his esophagus. The way he dwarves the woman taking up your precious time. He had finally come home, but here you were, being occupied by your neighbors, dressed in nothing except a tight fitting night dress.
"Oh Terry!" The woman said, hoping to steal his attention, despite his eyes remaining fastened on you, "How lovely to finally meet! I was just telling your lovely wife we should all have a family meet up- she informed me that you two don't want kids?"
"Have-" You said so quickly, "I said we don't have kids. Not that we don't want any."
Without sparing the woman another glance, Terry strolls past her. His large bicep squeezes you into the frame of the door as he walks up behind you but you don't mind. In fact you suddenly feel calmer in his shadow. Your nerves are both calm and set alight as he moves his heavy arms around your waist.
"You explained yourself?" He bends down, his lips pressed against your ear, "You didn't need to do that." Your mouth stammered open as the woman by your doorstep pales.
"Well- I was just enquiring-" the woman attempts to salvage the situation but Terry’s already pulling you into the house.
"We'll come back to you about the dinner-”
“We could set a date right now and-”
“Excuse me,” Terry says, “We gotta go make that baby we apparently don't want-” you catch a final glimpse of that woman. Her mouth stammered open.
Terry's leading you towards the couch and you follow him, your fingers wrapped around his pinky. You swallow heavily watching his back muscles contract.
He's so big.
So in control.
It has your mind swimming in the pools of subspace as he lowers his frame to the couch. He pulls you into his lap and you yelp as the skirts of your dress fan around his lap.
For a moment all is quiet.
You evade eye contact and he tries to hide his smile as he forces you to interlock your hands behind his neck while his titan hands meet around your waist. You were quite literally trapped.
“That woman probably isn't going to talk to me again after that little display of yours,” you mumble lowly and he chuckles softly as he brings his nose to the crook of your neck and he breathes in.
“Try not to sound so pleased about that.”
“I have to make friends, Terry-” your breath stammers when you feel his pillow lips open up until he's pressing his tongue to the sensitive skin by your neck.
“Did you touch yourself?” He asks and despite his words holding that usual sliver of control, you can feel the slight eagerness to his actions. His steadily hardening cock straining through the front of his jeans and his restless hands moving underneath the skirt of your dress.
“No, you told me not to.”
“I've told you not to do many things,” he presses another kiss to your temple and you breathe in rather sharply when his fingers reach your inner thigh. “Sometimes you don't give a shit about what I say.”
“I promise I didn't touch myself,” it was becoming difficult to breathe. Your mind descended into lechery as his fingers inched up your thigh and you opened your legs slightly. “Honest.”
“Should I check the cameras?” Your body tensed ever so slightly and for someone as observant as Terry was trained to be, you knew he spotted it.
“We have cameras?”
“You think I'd just leave you in this hick ass town alone throughout the day and not have cameras in the house?”
“Oh- well-”
“Doesn't matter if you touched yourself, does it?” Your breathing swells as his fingers finally connect with the seat of your panties. He adjusts himself underneath you. You're absolutely soaked.
“No one can make you cum like I do,” He whispers, sliding your panties to the side, “Not even you.”
Your eyes grow hazy as his fingers begin to play with your aching cunt. It's everything you've needed and more.
“Say it-” You're teetering on the edge of a complete mental check-out as his fingers rub your clit. You squirm on top of him, searching for the seating position that would let you grind down on his hand but he keeps you still.
“Fuck-” he groans and for a split moment, you're nearly close.
Until he pulls his fingers away and you're once again whining and squirming with no sense of relief.
“You can't just-”
In a series of fluid and swift movements, Terry moves you off of his lap. Your back hits the couch as he hovers over you.
“what're you doing-”
“You thought I was kidding about making that baby?” He asks, so incredibly serious as he undoes his belt buckle and all you're able to do is lay supine and take whatever he gives
According to your family, everything about Terry Richmond had been a seemingly blood red flag: from his overtly frightening countenance, to his slightly unnerving marine status.
He is nothing but menacing as he hovers above you, parting your legs before reaching inside his jeans.
“You're squirming too much,” he says, “You want the cuffs?” Your throat dried with the recollection of the previous tike Terry had slapped his cuffs over your wrist. He had quite literally used your cunt to milk his cock and there was nothing you could do about it.
Despite loving the memory, and the sharp thrill it shoots straight to your clit, you wanna touch him, and you tell him as much.
He groans before lowering himself towards you.
“Shouldn't I take off-”
“Keep the dress on,” he lifts your hips before spreading your legs, for a moment he gets lost at what he sees There underneath all the pink frills and tulle.
“I'm going to get you pregnant,” he promises before lifting his eyes to meet yours, “Any objections?”
He's not smiling. His eyes are deep and hypnotic and you move your hips as if so incredibly needy to take anything he gives.
“No objections,” You shake your head and your words die in your throat when you feel your panties be swiped to the side once again. Terry's restraining himself. You can see it in the veins popping out of his neck.
You're not sure why.
“Green or Red?” His Eyes lift to meet you and you can feel the head of his cock press against your tight opening.
“Red,” you respond. “You can be rough- i just need y- FUCK-” he thrusts inside you, bottoming out almost immediately.
You didn't need any prep because you were already soaking through your underwear but your cunt still fought To bully his cock back out.
“Th-That hurts-” you grit your teeth as he begins to thrust shallowly inside you, despite having already bottom out. It's like he's searching for somewhere deeper to go and you both groan out loud at the thought.
“You’re so fucking wet, fuck-” He watched his cock slides back out completely before slamming it back in and you yelp at his brutal intrusion. It fulfills something ravenous in you, the way he lowers his hand to the side of your head before fucking into you with wreckless abandon.
“So fucking tight-”
“Fuckyoursobig-” your eyes are hollow and Terry knows from your slurred speech that you were fully in subspace.
“Shit- you tryna make me cum already, huh?”
Your bottom lips portudes and you look up at him, nodding dumbly, “You wanna be a good slut for your Daddy, don't you?”
The second he locks his thick palm around your throat, and you wear his hand like a collar, you're absolutely done for. Your hips lift to meet his thrusts and your tongue lolls out of your mouth.
“Such a fucking slut- shit-”
“Yo-Yours,” you moan, “Your slut-”
He immediately stills his hips before cursing aloud. Terry's lips crash down onto yours. A hungry kiss you weren't expecting but eagerly reciprocate.
“My pretty slut,” he nods his head in affirmation. patting down your head as if you always knew what to say. “That's right, baby.” You're bathed in the praise. You fucking absorbed it. “That's right, Clever Girl-”
“Oh my God, Daddy- please,” you lift your hips, urging him to continue drilling into you.
“You're such a good girl for me-” he continues to affirm as his hips move once more, “You gonna take my cun, aren't you, Pretty Girl? You gonna make Daddy proud and give him a baby-”
“Terry, ohmygod-” you can feel your cunt spasming around his cock.
“Ask.” He can see you teetering on the edge but his voice is dark and commanding. “You know better.” He warns. “Ask.”
“Please-” you search to hold onto something, anything that would stop you for cumming outright on your husband's cock, “Please let me cum, oh my god-”
He speeds up his own thrusts. Unbeknownst to you, your eagerness to take him, your whining and begging had him twitching inside you. It's like you became a vessel of his pleasure alone. You were good at that. You were good at making him the center of your universe.
“Cum for me, Pretty Girl.” It's all it takes for you to let yourself go completely. Your eyes roll to the back of your head as Terry squeezes your throat, sending you flying amongst the clouds. You curse and scream and your cunt is suffocating his cock until he can't handle it anymore.
“Gonna cum,” he affirms, his voice tense and his muscles tight, “Gonna cum so fucking hard inside my Pretty Girl-” even he had his limits. Soon he wasn't able to say anything. His words bled into uncontrollable groans as he trusted a steady stream of cum inside you.
You're patting down on his tense muscles, urging him to part with every single drop.
Summary: Six months postpartum and Cleo is still insecure about herself. Terry has had enough.
Terry Richmond x Black!OC
18+ Content! || porn with little to no plot, married couple, slight daddy kink, p in v, mentions of postpartum depression, mentions of insecurity
Cleo gasped, the faint sound getting caught in her throat as her nails dug into the meaty flesh of Terry’s arms. Her toes curled tightly as the tremble in her thighs intensified. The constant jabbing and stimulation of her g-spot due to Terry’s deep, digging strokes sent intoxicating waves of pleasure through her body, leaving her looking fucked-out and dick drunk.
Another whine left her swollen, parted lips, eyes rolling back in her head as her knees came together in an attempt to slow Terry’s mid-paced strokes. “Mm-mm…”, he hummed, his right hand moving to smack her thigh. “Open them legs. Let me see that pretty ass pussy.”
He didn’t give her much of a chance to follow his commands before he hooked his huge hands around the back of her knees and pushed them up to her chest. His gaze stayed fixed on her creaming tightness, watching the milky white ring she left grow thinker and larger. “She so pretty…”, he mumbled, “just like you.”
His plump, pink lips wedged between his pearly white teeth as his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. “Look at her.”, he took his right hand off her thigh and cupped his hand around he jaw, forcing her to look at their connected parts. “Look how she’s creamin’ around me.”
Cleo blinked to clear her hazy vision, focusing in on his length moving in and out of her with ease. Seeing first hand the sticky mess she was making made her even wetter, causing her nails to dig deeper into Terry’s arms. “Terryyy…”, Cleo whined, her eyes fluttering closed as her head fell back against the sheets.
Terry, whose hand had moved from her jaw to around her neck, hummed in response. “What’s the matter, mama?”
Breath partially taken from his firm grip on her neck, Cleo released a choked moan as the tremble in her legs intensified. “Talk to me, baby”, Terry mumbled, his grip tightening softly, “tell daddy what’s wrong.”
Cleo whined in response, her walls tightening around him as her toes curled tightly in the air, “y-you’re so deep, baby.”
A cocky grin spread across his face, his bottom lip moving to rest between his teeth once more. He told her this would happen. He told her all it would take was just one more time for him to catch her looking at herself negatively in the mirror, one more time to catch her starving herself to lose weight, one more time for her to talk down on herself. One more time and he was going to do something about it.
He made it clear from the first time she made a comment about her postpartum body that he would not tolerate his wife being insecure about the body that carried their child. But for a while, he did. He knew postpartum depression was a bitch, and he saw it take its ugly toll on Cleo. He hated seeing her so upset about the changes her body had gone through bringing their baby girl into the world, and quite frankly, he didn’t understand. Hell, he loved it.
He loved everything. The way her hair grew, the way her skin became glass, the way stretch marks were visible on her thighs, ass, and stomach. The way her chest grew, hips expanded, and her ass got fatter? Oh, you know he was loving that. He couldn’t understand why she didn’t love it. Honestly, he didn’t want to. One too many negative comments about herself and he had had enough.
He told her the next time she said something negative about herself, he’d fuck the shit out of her. If he couldn’t talk her into feeling beautiful, he would fuck her into feeling beautiful. He made it clear that he would go so deep inside of her that she wouldn’t even remember what she was insecure about.
And she didn’t. She barely even remembered her name right now.
His name seemed to be the only thing she remembered, because in the moment, it was the only thing she could manage to say. Beside the occasional whines, whimpers, and cries, the only thing leaving her mouth was Terry’s name. But that wasn’t what he wanted to hear.
“Look at me.”, he commanded, his deep green eyes burning into her face. Cleo peeled her eyes open, locking eyes with her husband. They held intense eye contact, the effects over their intimate dance causing butterflies to swarm in Cleo’s stomach. “Tell me what I wanna hear.”
Cleo didn’t have to ask what it was he wanted her to say. He’d been saying it to her since the day they met, and after she had the baby, he said it ten times more. Now he wanted her to say it.
But Cleo didn’t want to say it. She didn’t think it was true.
Noticing her eyes starting to close, Terry smacked her thigh with his free hand while putting more pressure on her throat with the other. “Don’t look away from me, Cleo.”
Cleo yelped at the harsh contact his large hand made to her thigh as her eyes shot open. “Tell me what I wanna hear.”, he repeated, his hips moving in ways that damn near made it impossible for Cleo to keep her eyes open, let alone talk. “Come on, baby…say it for me.”
Despite his pussy-wetting words and leg shaking strokes, Cleo still refused to say it.
Terry said nothing. Instead, he began to retreat from her walls and let go of her neck. Whining from the feel of his exit, Cleo hurriedly reached out to grab his arm. “No, don’t stop! Please, don’t stop, it feels so good!”
At her pleading words, Terry slowly pushed back inside of her. “Well stop playing and tell me what I wanna hear.”
Gasping as he stretched her again, Cleo’s back arched off of the bed as he inched closer and closer to that sweet spot of hers. She knew him and she knew how petty he was. He was purposely avoiding hitting her spot until she said what he wanted her to say.
Burying his head in her neck, Terry peppered kisses along her neck as he mumbled, “Come on, mama. Let me hear you say it.”
Whining as her walls contracted around him, Cleo mumbled, “I’m beautiful.”
“What you say?”, Terry mumbled as his lips pressed repeatedly against the sweet spot on her neck. “I ain’t hear you.”
Cursing under her breath, Cleo fought not to lose her damn mind as she draped an arm over Terry’s neck and both voluntarily and involuntarily raked her nails over his shoulder blade. “I’m beautiful…”, she repeated in her whining tone, her free hand reaching up beside her head to grip the plush pillow. Cleo wanted to slap the shit out of Terry for having her like this. Better yet, she wanted to slap the shit out of herself for pushing him away for so long. Her insecurities kept her from damn near seeing heaven, and damn was she mad about it.
Terry needed to say nothing to let Cleo know her words had been accepted. All he needed to do was push his hips a little bit deeper, and there it was.
Cleo needed to say nothing to let him know that he’d found that spot, because the involuntary bucking of her hips along with the trembling of her legs and gasp of pleasure, Terry knew. His low chuckle of contentment confirmed that as he lifted himself from the crook of her neck to balance himself on his hands and continue to roll his hips in that same pattern. Looking down at his dazed wife, Terry chuckled once more and took his bottom lip between his teeth, asking, “I’m hittin’ that spot, huh?”
Cleo, in her otherworldly pleasure, could only grip the pillow tighter and continue to let her sweet love sounds slip past her parted lips.
Terry could do nothing but admire her when she was like this. Her legs spread all over the bed, hands clenched in the sheets, hair wild as hell. She was a disheveled, sweaty, moaning mess. But still to him, she was the prettiest thing in the world.
He watched as her tired brown eyes rolled back into her head and her head fell back against the bed as she tried not to be too loud and wake their baby girl across the hall. He took a second to let his head fall back and avert his vision to the ceiling from both pleasure and to take a breather, because if he kept watching Cleo, he would get her pretty ass pregnant all over again.
Hearing her whine his name again in that familiar tone, he quickly returned his attention to her. She was close.
“What’s the matter, baby?”, he cooed as he moved his right hand down to her bundle of nerves and used the pad of his thumb to rub slow, sloppy circles, “you gon’ cum for me? hmm?”
Moaning aloud in response to his unexpected touch, Cleo’s hand quickly moved down to his hip in an attempt to halt his movement just for a second so she could get some air back in her damn lungs. “W-wait, T…”, she murmured, fighting to keep her eyes from doing yet another roll inward, but damn did she feel good. Hell, she could barely talk without moaning.
Shaking his head, Terry’s hips continued to move, fighting back against her weak pushes. “Nah”, he mumbled, his thumb continuing its rotation on her pleasure point, “don’t tap out on me now, Cleo. Gimmie that nut. Let me have it.”
And just like that, his wish was her command. “Oh, f-fuck, Terry!” Her volume control was out the window, as was her mind as an orgasm sent from God himself ran its course. His name upon her lips was music to Terry’s ears as he continued his movements, helping her ride out her high.
Motions slowly coming to a halt as her body relaxed, Terry chuckled as he watched her pleasure cost his shaft in creamy coats. Finally being allowed to catch her breath, Cleo’s chest rose and fell at a semi-rapid pace. “Terry…what the fuck?”, she whined as she raised a hand to cover her face.
Chuckling once more, he gently removed her hand from face before peppering kisses all around it. She smiled weakly as he whispered, “You did so good for me, baby. I’m so proud of you.”
With more kisses to her face and her lips, he then murmured, “but I know you got some more in there for me. Gon’ head and turn over.”
Summary: He was the perfect nurse the whole time you were sick. But now that you’re healed, you want your nasty man back.
cw: smut. sfw caregiver to nsfw caregiver.
It had been five months since the nasty stomach bug that left you completely reliant on your husband.
For five months, he was everything to you and more.
He did your laundry, washed your hair, tenderly clipped and buffed your nails.
The first day he laid out your skincare products and followed your exact routine, you found yourself crying happy tears.
But bath time was always the best.
He would run your bath, making sure the water was the perfect temperature. Then he’d undress you, careful to avoid any movement that might hurt.
Lifting you as if you were porcelain, he’d lower you gently into the water.
The way his hands moved across your skin brought tears to your eyes.
His touch was reverent, every stroke a vow of devotion. He washed you slowly, thoroughly, until you were ready to be wrapped up and tucked back in bed.
For months, his focus was only you. Never touching you sexually. Never asking for anything.
He cooked your meals. He fed you. He oiled your hair. He served you like a dutiful priest and you were his goddess.
But now, fully healed, you were still being treated like glass.
And it was beginning to frustrate you. Especially the part where he still refused to make love to you.
Being cared for like a doll was beautiful when you were weak. But now it made you feel trapped.
He was lying beside you, propped against the headboard with a book, when you turned wide, pleading eyes on him.
Your hand slid under the sheet to rest on his thigh. At first, your touch was slow, innocent. Then it crept higher, kneading, squeezing, until he finally turned glazed eyes on you.
The look in them made you clench so hard you gasped aloud.
He blinked rapidly, the raw lust in his eyes quickly replaced by concern.
He dropped his book. “Are you okay?”
You shook your head.
His brow furrowed as his gaze swept over your scantily clad body, his worry refusing to ease.
“What’s wrong?”
“I want you.” You meant for it to sound seductive, but it broke out in a sob.
His eyes softened, a small smile replacing his frown.
“I want you too, baby.” He leaned down, brushing your lips with a chaste kiss. When you tried to pull him deeper, he chuckled and pulled back. “But you’re not strong enough.”
You whined in frustration, crossing and uncrossing your thighs as the ache inside you grew.
Fisting his shirt, you tugged him down, crashing your mouth against his in a desperate attempt to show him your need.
For a moment, he kissed you back, a groan vibrating into your lips—before he tore himself away.
“Please,” you whispered, cradling his head between your hands. “It’s been too long.”
He cupped your face, thumb stroking your cheek in soft, loving passes.
You turned into his palm and kissed it.
He pressed a kiss to your temple, then slid his hand down to circle your throat… and squeezed lightly.
The animalistic groan that ripped from you had him chuckling against your ear.
That sound. That laugh. The one that promised, I’m going to take care of you.
His hand found your breasts, kneading one, then the other, rolling your nipples between his fingers before moving lower.
When his hand slipped into your pajama shorts, you leaned back and spread your legs, offering yourself to him like a love-worn guitar he knew by heart.
The first touch was slow, careful. He traced your folds as though relearning you. Five months apart had been an eternity.
When his finger brushed your nub, both of you groaned, eyes locked as he began to work his magic between your legs.
He pulled his hand away, and your eyes followed, glued to it as he slipped two fingers into his mouth and sucked.
His eyes fluttered shut, a low moan vibrating in his chest. More fluid leaked from you.
When his fingers returned, your folds yielded, parting for him as he slid inside.
Slow, torturous thrusts.
His lips found a nipple while his other hand roamed over your belly as it traveled down south.
You clenched around his pumping fingers in anticipation... then his thumb pressed against your aching clit.
The sounds lodged in your throat.
Your hips jerked, trying to ride his hand, desperate for more friction, for release.
He lifted his head, your nipple slipping from his mouth with a wet pop.
He shook his head slowly. “Uh-uh. Be a good girl and stay still.”
The hand working your clit shifted, pressing firmly against your lower belly, holding you down while his thick digits stretched you from inside.
He pumped slightly faster, watching the sex-crazed expressions on your face, moving his thumb back over your clit to drive you further into insanity.
Incoherent words babbled out of you, like a woman possessed.
Your head thrashed, your toes curled, your hands clutched at everything within reach.
Then he curled his fingers inside you and beckoned you to come...
And you did.
You came hard. Spraying all over his good shirt and landing a few drops on his lips for measure.
He licked it off.
Rising, he tugged his pajama bottoms down and moved to your side, stroking the thick length in his fist.
You parted your lips eagerly, and he chuckled — low, rumbling, ending in that hiss that always made you melt.
“What part of you’re not strong enough don’t you understand?” The words rolled out in a sinful timbre.
You pouted, tilting your puppy eyes up at him.
“Can I at least watch?”
His hand worked faster. “Why do you think I’m here? You’ve got front-row seats.” He tapped his cock lightly against your forehead, making you wrinkle your nose as you leaned forward to catch his scent.
He laughed under his breath. “My nasty girl.”
You reached up instinctively, but his voice cut sharp and commanding. “Put it down.”
You dropped your hand at once, a needy whimper spilling out.
“Good,” he murmured.
He dragged his length along your cheek in slow, deliberate strokes, the silken skin tracing your face like a brand. His pumping hand slowed until the head brushed your lips.
A bead of precum smeared against them. You licked it off immediately.
He groaned, his voice raw and strained, and did it again.
You swiped the milky fluid from your lips and stuck your tongue out at him.
He pressed the swollen head against it, smearing more across the pink.
You swallowed, stuck it out again, teasing.
He was gone.
When he set himself on your tongue once more, he gave a few shallow thrusts before pulling away.
Your hands found your breasts, squeezing and rolling them, putting on a show just for him.
“Fuck it,” he growled, biting the words out. He propped your head up and swung a leg over, straddling you.
Your mouth opened wide, ready, as he guided himself between your lips. One hand caressed your cheek, the other steadied his cock.
He eased forward, ginger at first, as if afraid you’d break.
But your arms snaked around him, palms gripping the hard curve of his ass, pulling him in. You moved your head, inhaling his length.
“God-- fuck,” he croaked, voice cracking as you worked him the way only you could.
His hand left your cheek and braced against the headboard, while the other held the back of your head steady as you milked him.
It didn’t take long. He jolted, tried to pull out, but you were done with his carefulness. You kept him buried, throat tightening, swallowing down every hot spill of him until your eyes watered.
When you finally pulled off, it was with a wet pop, leaving him dazed and boneless as he collapsed to the side.
After a long breath, he tapped your thigh.
You rolled to face him.
His gaze burned even through exhaustion. “I’m fucking you all day tomorrow. Get some sleep.”
Terry is a sick man. A very sick man. The way his eyes hung low as he watched you throw your legs on his lap, your shorts riding up. He traced his fingers against your white knitted stockings that he loved to see you wear, admiring them as you ramble about your day, wondering if you knew what you were doing to him.
The way his dick rose at the thought of your clothed feet rubbing against his hard cock, with those stockings soaking up his pre-cum. “I don’t even understand what I did wrong.” You pouted explaining your frustration, but realistically Terry could care less. All he wanted to do was ruin your pretty pussy to keep that pretty mouth shut: and that he did.
His car rocked as he blew out smoke, watching you bounce on his thick cock. Your muffled sobs was music to his ears. “You’re daddy’s pretty little slut, aren’t you?” Terry asked, mockingly. “M’ yourr- ah!” You attempted to speak until you felt a hard slap on your cheek. Terry laughed, taking a drag of his blunt, pulling you by your neck to blow some smoke into your mouth.
You whined, blowing the smoke out, feeling yourself reach your high as his cock pressed into what felt like your heart. He was so deep. You started bouncing faster, gripping onto his muscular shoulders for support, knowing you were close to climax. Terry held your thighs down with one hand to stop you from moving. “Who said ‘mma let you cum, huh?” He asked rhetorically. “M’ sorry, daddy! Can’t hold” you hiccuped, wetting your cheeks with hot tears. He was pushing you to your limits and you hated how much you loved it.
Your brain felt fuzzy. You knew you couldn’t hold out for much longer and decided to give in, hoping the consequences weren’t too bad. You came hard on his cock, leaking onto his leather seat as you breathed out heavily. You rested your head on his shoulder in hopes of calming yourself down when you felt your hair being pulled back with force. You thought he had ripped a couple strands of your hair out.
He moved himself out of you, before he hissed saying, “what the fuck did I tell you?” You squirmed in his lap, staying silent. He ashed his blunt and placed to the side. “You can’t speak now?” He mocked, using his free hand to grab your neck, applying enough pressure to excite you, but not enough to intentionally hurt you. He would never hurt his baby.
“Get in the back, now.” He ushered you to move to the backseat. Although you would never admit it, you loved how rough he got when he was high. The way he fulfilled every lewd fantasy you had kept you on edge. Sober Terry was more gentle. He catered to your needs and prioritised your body to make you feel comfortable, whereas, intoxicated Terry was selfish and loved reminding you that you belonged to him. . . Only him.
As you climbed in the backseat, waiting for him to join you, you began removing your clothes. First, your sweater, then your shorts and when you went to remove your stockings, he quickly stopped you by kissing his teeth. “Nah, keep that on.” He ordered with a smirk. He climbed to the back, sitting straight with his back towards the door as you sat there patiently waiting for his next order. “What’s our safe word?” He asked sincerely. “Pancakes.” You replied, voice barely above a whisper. He slapped your cheek, rubbing the same place he just slapped. “Good girl.”
“You gotta start listening to daddy, princess.” He began his rant, pulling his pants all the way off. “You know the rules. Right, baby?” He asked, continuing to strip naked. “M’ sorry, pa. I didn’t mean to cum without permission.” You put your head down, feeling somewhat ashamed. Terry rubbed your still wet cheek from when you were crying previously and kissed your forehead. “Come here.” He motioned for you to move forward. You shifted forward, looking up at him with your glossy eyes. “Open.”
You opened your mouth wide, feeling his spit melt into your mouth. “Swallow.” You swallowed it without a second thought, smiling softly. “Good girl. My pretty girl.” He rubbed your cheek, smiling back at you. He moved his hand to the back of your head, pushing you down towards his grown erection. He tapped his two-toned thick cock on your lips twice, watching his pre-cum drip onto your soft lips. “So beautiful.” He expressed.
You stared at him innocently, tasting the tip before slowly dropping down, inhaling his cock inch by inch. He used his left hand to grab the back of your hair tightly, bobbing your head up and down his cock. “So fucking dirty.” He groaned. Big wet spit bubbles formed as you slurped him whole, proud that you were being so good for him. “You like being my fuck toy, don’t you?” His eyes rolled back, keeping a firm grip on your head as you hummed in response.
You took him deeper while more spit crowded around your mouth and fell onto your chest. It was so disgustingly beautiful. “You gonna let me fuck that throat up?” You hummed in response, approving. With a small exhale through your nose, he placed both of his hands on your head and stroked his cock with your head, letting your soft lips reach the base of his cock, holding you in place. “Fuckk!” He breathed out. You felt yourself start to lose your breath and that fuzzy feeling reappeared; almost as though you lost the ability to think.
The heat between your thighs growing more aggravating by the minute, you tapped his thigh to let you come up. He let go of your head and you immediately lifted up, gasping for air as your saliva dripped onto his dick. Before you knew it, he pushed you back onto his cock, bobbing your head faster. You knew he reached his high and was close to climax when he started mumbling incoherent nonsense. “You taking my dick so well, mama.” He praised. You were his fleshlight.
Soon, you felt hot liquid shoot at the back of your throat and a loud grunt from Terry’s lips. He slowly bobbed your head to make sure he covered every inch of your throat as if he was signing his name and let go of you once he was sure that he was empty.
Terry smiled when he saw you swallow it and stick your tongue out to show him it was all gone. “Good girl.” He slapped you harshly on your cheek, pressing a kiss straight after. “Please, pa.” You begged. “What do you want? Hmm?” He asked, knowing all you wanted was to be fucked brainless. He watched you lay down on your back, lifting your leg up to place on his broad shoulders. He rubbed your stockings, biting the fabric that covered your feet, twirling his tongue around your toes as you tried to suppress your moans. “I asked you a question.” He glared, continuing to suck on your toes through your stockings.
“I want you to use me.” You pleaded. You felt so embarrassed. On the outside, most people thought you were somewhat of a strong, independent woman who wouldn’t take shit from anyone, but here you are begging to be used like a meaningless toy. How pathetic. “That’s all you had to say.” He smiled against your feet, trailing kisses up and down your legs. “Open that pussy wide.” He ordered, watching closely as you brought your hands to your clit, spreading it open.
The way it was glistening, begging for him to touch it, abuse it, relieve it. Terry lost all composure. He sat back on the middle seat, facing forward, calculating his next move. He motioned for you to lay on his lap. As you moved towards his lap, you let out a small whine, feeling a strong hot sensation on your ass. Then another and another and another.
You were practically sobbing by the fifth slap. Knowing he was going for his sixth harsh slap, you moved your hand back to try and stop him, in an attempt to ease the pain. “T-Terr-y slo’ dow-n.” You pleaded, losing your ability to form a coherent sentence. “The fuck you just call me?” He gripped you by your hair to look you dead in your eyes.
You fucked up. “W-wait! M’ sorry.” You tried to apologise, but you knew he wasn’t going to accept it. On a normal day, he loved the way his name rolled off your tongue, but during a time like this? You knew better. Before you could say anything else, his four large fingers were buried deep into your wet folds, moving in and out of you fast. The wet gushing sound filled his car as he quickened his pace, watching you crumble beneath him. You tried to speak, but no words could physically come out of your mouth: just sweet nothings.
“What’s my name?” He asked, wondering if he should fist your tight hole to stretch you out ready for when he’s going to fuck you senseless. “Da- ah!” You squealed as you felt yourself squirting. Your legs felt so numb and all you could do was cry because you knew he wasn’t gonna stop until you said what he wanted to hear. He added his fifth finger and began fisting roughly into you, using his free hand to grab your throat. “You can take it, mama. What’s my name?” He asked again. All you could feel was how close you were to climax and how deep his big hand was rammed into your pussy.
“Say it and I’ll let you cum.” He slowed his pace down, knowing you were close. “D-ddy.” You whispered, brain foggy, sweat dripping from every part of your body. You wouldn’t be surprised if you passed out. “I can’t hear you. Say it again.” At this point, you could’ve sworn you saw the light, but you tried pushing through knowing your orgasm was going to be worth it. “Daddy!” You screamed. With that, Terry pulled his fist out as your body started to jitter, meaning you were about to cum.
“Let it out, mama.” His deep voice echoed. Your quiet sobs filled up the car as you came. He rubbed your clit with his thumb, mixing your cum in with your squirt fluid, enjoying how far he pushed you. “So fucking sexy.” He hummed, pulling his thumb to your lips for you to suck on. Your plump lips wrapped around his thumb, tasting your sweet juices. He thought you looked the prettiest in times like these.
“You gone let me beat that pussy up?” He asked with a smirk, rubbing your covered feet. You could feel the excitement leap out of you as your small giggles blessed his ear. No matter how far he pushed you, you always wanted more.
"Right here, baby, in my eyes. Can you keep them open for me?"
Those eyes, damn, those fucking eyes. It was like you were completely lost, drowning in the deep, swirling mix of emerald and amber, colors that seemed to shift depending on his mood. You'd seen them change so many times—whether it was lust, when they darkened with anger, when his brows would furrow and his jaw clenched tight, barely containing what he was feeling inside; or even sadness, when they softened, filled with a heaviness he tried so hard to hide. Many emotions flickered through them, making it impossible to look away like he was holding back something that he was waiting to unleash.
"Don't hide from me, princess. I need you to keep them on me.."
His plump, plink lips glistened, freshly moistened by his tongue, which was still soaked with your juices. The way he licked them slowly, savoring every drop, made you feel like he could devour you entirely. That taste seemed to make him feral, he wanted to claim every inch of you.
"You look so beautiful when you're taking me like this.."
But it wasn’t just the taste of your essence that had you hooked. It was the sound of his voice, that smooth London accent, rolling effortlessly off his tongue when he spoke to you in the sweetest, most tender way. It almost felt like what you were really tasting was the sweetness of his words, more than your own juices. His words touched you in ways that had you craving more, not just of his body, but of the way he made you feel when he spoke.
"My sweet girl, so perfect for me.."
You could still taste yourself on his tongue, that sweet, lingering flavor covering you with the warmth of his breath as it brushed against your lips from the kiss he’d left you with just moments ago. His lips felt just as good as they looked—soft and pillowy. Your fingers found their way to his ears, lightly massaging them as you playfully sucked on his bottom lip, feeling the soft tug of his skin against your own. He responded by pulling at your top lip with just as much passion, his breath hitching before he pulled away slightly, catching your lips in another tender kiss that made your heart skip a beat.
"Mmm, so soft..so beautiful.."
When he finally pulled away, those pretty orbs scanned your face as if memorizing every detail, while his flushed lips parted slightly as if he was still savoring the taste of you. The small tugs you made on his ears made the corner of his lips turn up in a soft smile, something that made you blush. He leaned in again, the heat of his body pulling you closer, and you could see how much he loved this—how much he loved you.
"You feel so damn good, wrapping around me like the good girl you are. Taking me deeper, and deeper, and..fuck...deeper."
Your knees were wrapped snugly around his waist, pulling him closer as you felt his dick twitch inside you. His strong hands gripped your wrists, pinning them beside your head and holding you firmly in place. You could feel the weight of his body against yours, the way his muscles flexed as he moved, leaving you damn near breathless. The way your pussy gripped his dick made you feel completely at his mercy, every inch of him filling you as his hips twisted and rolled painfully slow. The thrusts were deep, drilling into you with as if he were mining for gold. Every time he hit that sweet spot, your breath got caught, his name just barely escaping your lips.
The way he had you pinned, the way he took control, your belly mimicked that same feeling you experienced when a rollercoaster made that big drop.
"I want you to focus on how it feels when I'm deep inside you. Uhn uhn, look at me—don’t look away. Let me see..."
His forehead pressed against yours, sweat dripping down from his brow as his body worked tirelessly to keep you lost in a blissful state of euphoria. His pretty caramel-colored skin glistened, catching the light in a way that made him look even more flawless than usual. Every bead of sweat traced down his features and the contours of his muscles. He was concentrated and confident, giving you every bit of his attention.
"Mhm, just like that. Makin' me fucking weak when you look at me with those pretty brown eyes.."
With his fresh haircut and sharp line-up, he looked as yummy as ever, and the scent of his cologne lingered in the air and made you want to swallow him whole. Honestly, having someone as fine as him fucking you felt like a dream, a wild fantasy brought to life.
Your chest was caving in with every deep breath, and you couldn’t help but wonder what this man was doing to you. It felt like your body was buzzing and you were doing your best to keep your eyes on his. The whines that escaped your lips were almost being sucked in by him, his own lips hovering close to yours, ready to catch every sound you made.
"Mmm, keep those whimpers coming. You're taking me in so good, so wet..just for me.."
You were sucking in his grunts just as eagerly as he was drinking in your noises. As deep as he was driving into you, your gushy walls were making his knees weak, stirring up nervous flutters in his belly. He masked it well, though, keeping that confident facade as he focused on you, completely lost in you. But you could see it in his eyes—the way he wanted you just as much as you wanted him.
"There it is..I can feel you tightening around me. Talk to me darling, is it right here?"
Your pussy was getting wetter by the second, causing your grip on his hands to tighten. You were pinned against him with nowhere to escape. His hips were perfectly angled, grazing your G-spot with each thrust, making the hairs stand on your skin and your face twist with pleasure.
"Tell me that’s your spot; I need to hear you say it. Tell Daddy how deep he is.."
You didn’t have to say a word; the sounds your pussy made filled the air and spoke for you. The sounds that told him everything he needed to know. The way your fingers clutched his hands, the way your slick walls wrapped around him, all communicated the delicious torture he was putting you through.
As you struggled to speak, he was watching you closely, taking in every tiny change in your expression. He was digging into you like a shovel, watching your lips part in desperate gasps, trying to let out your whimpers. But now, those sounds were fading, as he fucked the voice out of you. He knew he had you completely under his spell.
"Breathe through it, love. You can take it,"
His eyes looked down, watching your walls pull around him, holding onto him tighter. He pulled out slowly, teasing you just enough before thrusting right back in,
"You can take every single inch of me,"
You could feel him deep inside, filling you completely, not one inch of you unfulfilled. The world outside faded away, and all that mattered was the way his body moved against yours.
“That's right, let it happen, princess. I'm right here, give it to me..”
He was so calm, his voice so steady as he stroked your index finger with his thumb while your hands were still in his grasp. He was coaxing you to surrender to him, completely let go and be vulnerable in his hold.
"Shit, that's my girl. Just give in to me baby, don't hold back. I want to feel every fucking drop.."
As you felt the orgasm creeping up, your body shuddered to every angle, every hit of your spot, he knew exactly what you needed.
“Look at that, ” he murmured, his eyes marveling and locked onto where your juices splashed onto his dick and thighs, glistening in the soft light. You were soaking him, drenching the sheets beneath you, and gasping for air like you were surfacing from deep water. You both shook and writhed beneath him, and he watched you with a look in his eyes that made your pussy grab at him again. A satisfied smile crept onto his face, full of not only pride but also arousal, as he saw you unraveling completely under him.
“See? You can take it all,” he said with a playful smirk, his lips still ghosting over yours as you attempted to catch your breath. You rolled your eyes and smiled lazily at his comment.
"And because I know you can take it all..I'm going to need one more from you, okay?"
--------------------------------------------
I would like to believe I proofread this a billion times, so hopefully there are little to no mistakes. Hope y’all enjoyed!!!
Summary: So apparently... she's a squirter. Who knew.
Pairing: Aaron Pierre x reader
Warnings: HEAVY SMUT, porn without plot basically. Squirting, overstimulation, get into it. read at your own risk.
hell yeaaaaaah who's ready to get fucked up on a sunday?
from the drafts
MINORS DNI
It started with a promise.
“I want to see you fall apart,” he whispered, voice low and rough against her ear. “No holding back tonight. You hear me?”
She giggled, tried to be coy, lips brushing his jaw. “That so?”
He pulled back to look her in the eye. Steady. Dark. Unshakable.
“You trust me, baby?”
She nodded, already breathless. “Always.”
That was all he needed.
He laid her back like he was offering her to the heavens. His hands were firm but tender, calloused fingers trailing the edges of her skin as if to memorize the curves by touch alone. He kissed her slowly, deeply, with a hunger that simmered beneath control. Her breath hitched every time his lips dragged across new skin—her collarbone, her sternum, the rise of her ribs, the softness of her belly.
But when he knelt between her thighs, everything changed.
The reverence vanished. Replaced by something feral.
His tongue met her with purpose. He licked a slow line up her center, groaning as he tasted her. Her hips bucked involuntarily, and he smiled against her like he’d won something. At first, he was gentle. Teasing. Letting her feel every flick, every swirl. She gasped, fists curling in the sheets.
Then came his fingers. He slid two inside her without warning. Thick. Deep. Intentional.
She cried out. Her back arched.
His pace was slow, agonizing. And then he curled them. Right there. Against that spot that made her toes curl.
Her eyes flew open. “Aaron—”
He glanced up at her, voice calm. “Shh. Just feel it.” Then his mouth sealed around her clit. Wet. Hot. Devastating.
She jerked. Tried to shift away. Her thighs trembled.
He didn’t let her move an inch. One arm locked around her thigh, anchoring her to the mattress. The other kept working her from the inside, dragging against her sweetest spot over and over until her legs started to quake.
“You’re shaking,” he murmured into her, words vibrating against her. “That mean you’re close, sweetheart?”
She nodded, frantically, too far gone to speak.
“Use your words.”
“Yes. I—I’m close. Please.”
He moaned low, tongue flicking faster. Fingers curling harder. He could feel her start to clench. Her thighs squeezing. Her belly twitching. “Good.”
Then he sped up.
No mercy. No pauses. No room to breathe.
She sobbed his name. “I can’t. Aaron—I feel it in my stomach. Oh my god—I feel it so deep—”
“That’s what I want,” he said, voice gravel now. “Let it out. Don’t fight it.”
She tried. She really did. But her body was already unraveling. Her muscles locked. Her thighs tensed. Her vision blurred.
“Let it go, baby.”
She screamed. Her body jerked. Legs kicked. Her core clenched so tight it felt like something snapped inside her — and then it just.. gushed out of her.
Hard.
It rushed out in waves, soaking his mouth, her thighs, the sheets. Her breath stuttered. Her cries cracked.
And Aaron didn’t stop. His fingers kept moving, his tongue insistent. Her body convulsed again, another gush pouring out of her with a ragged moan.
She reached for his head, tried to push him away.
He grabbed her wrists. “No, baby. You can take it. You’re doing so good.” He pinned her hands to the bed, stared up at her with wild eyes and a soaked chin.
“You’re gonna give me everything. All of it.”
Another gush. Another scream.
She broke. Shaking. Crying. Her voice barely a whisper. “Aaron—Aaron, please—”
Only then did he slow. Gently removed his fingers. Pressed soft kisses to the inside of her thighs while she trembled beneath him.
His face was drenched. Beard dripping.
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then leaned in to kiss her belly. Her hip. Her thigh again.
Then he crawled up her body, cupped her cheek, and pressed a kiss to her mouth. “You’re incredible,” he whispered. “You don’t even know what you just did.”
Her eyes were glassy. Lips parted. She couldn’t speak.
Double Trouble (Aaron Pierre x Black Reader x MBJ)
Warnings! NSFW, HEAVY BDSM, HEAVY Daddy kink, threesome (MFM), Everything is consensual! Degredation kink, Praise kink, Bratty reader, Dom! Aaron, Dom!MBJ
A/N: went hella overboard with this one! The plot is pure filth.
***
“Baby?”
Your soft calls were barely loud enough to be heard over your boyfriend’s latest afrobeats obsession, which blasted through your shared home’s sound system. You lazily kicked off your red bottoms, a guttural sigh of relief escaping you as your exhausted feet relaxed out of the painful position it required to sport such beautiful but impractical shoes all day.
On your way to hunt down the love of your life, you stopped by your study, not even bothering to turn on the light as you discarded your Chloe work tote in your chair and closed the door behind you.
After closing the biggest case of your career, you would not need to see the interior of either of your offices for a week and that almost brought tears of joy to your eyes. You and Aaron did not even have the energy to plan a trip. Having just wrapped a project two weeks prior, you both were overjoyed to spend a week at home wrapped up in each other.
You rolled your shoulders. Prayerfully, your boyfriend would take pity on you and give you a massage to ease the knots that took up residence in your back. You lazily made your way to the kitchen, knowing where you’d find the man you loved - but currently did not like.
His back was to the arched entryway as you snuck in behind him, stealing a grape from his masterful charcuterie board that sat nearby.
Despite your righteous annoyance at him, you never missed an opportunity to simply admire Aaron in his element. Like most actors, he suffered from the curse of always having to be “on.” But in the sanctuary of your home, he could just be Aaron, your gentle, loving, goofy, carefree boyfriend.
And it certainly helped that he looked positively delicious today, setting a stupid table for a stupid dinner you didn’t want to host. He did every day but something was about him today in particular just made you want to sink to your knees and worship him with your tongue. But you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction today. You were pissed off.
And that lust simply soured into red hot annoyance at the surprise guest your too-kind boyfriend invited to dinner. And while you never usually complained about company, after months of endless days and sleepless and sexless nights, your vision of a relaxing evening was not entertaining a third wheel.
It was a tall glass of wine, an amazing meal. And… then having your daddy twist you into a literal human pretzel and fuck the stress out of your body.
But he hated you, clearly.
A sentiment you articulated (along with others) in a snarky text hours earlier. But Aaron, forever unbothered by your theatrics, merely responded that you should trust your daddy because…
Daddy knows best.
And despite the strong independent lawyer inside you who demanded control and to be right (and she usually was), you knew he was right about this one thing. Aaron could always see exactly what you needed.
And despite your attitude earlier, you still spied his traditional gift for you after winning a big case neatly displayed on the white marble counter: your favorite cake from a bakery nearby and a bouquet of tulips. The varying vibrant shades of pink made something in your soul smile. He knew you too well.
Your silent studying did not go unnoticed for long, Aaron turning around not even startled to find you there. His expressive eyes lit up at the sight of your half grin, which you tried to suppress because you were supposed to be angry at him, and the hand on your hip as you leaned into the counter.
He was in front of you before you could blink, his strong arm wrapping around your waist to pull you into his embrace. His muscles were threatening to destroy the fabric of his crisp button down, many of his clothes ill equipped to handle the additional muscles he gained for his latest project.
“Hey princess.”
Forever a brat and annoyed at the implosion of your plans for the night, you jerked your head to the side as he kissed you, forcing his lips to catch your cheek instead.
Aaron merely let out a low chuckle, knowing that your bark was far worse than your bite.
When it came to Aaron, you were about as strong as a lawn chair. You’d fold without resistance. Every. Single. Time. You always thought you were God’s strongest soldier… until you met Aaron. Kryptonite indeed.
“Still mad at me?”
“Yes,” you folded your arms as best you could against your chest, scoffing. “Between you playin’ the british assassin all around LA and me trying to negotiate with that asshole partner, we’ve had zero time together and no time to relax. And our first real free night in months without briefs and lines to run, you wanna play captain save a nigga with your friend? And then you spring it on me on some last minute shit. Those lips aren’t gonna get you outta this one, A.”
“I know, I know, Y/N. And I’m sorry for messing up your plans for the night. I know how excited you are to finally have a break. But I’m trying to surprise you so please just trust me. If I know you like I think I do, you’re gonna like it.”
“Well I think we’re about to make history then.”
“What do you mean?”
“The first time you get a surprise wrong. Honestly it’s probably a good thing? You’ve always been a bit too perfect to be real,” you added, causing him to grin. “But the only thing I would like right now is for you to fuck me into oblivion. So unless this dinner guest can help with that, I doubt I’ll like it. But what’s done is done. Now let me go so I can get ready.”
A stare down. Another moment where you’d inevitably crumbled. Because only Jesus himself was strong enough to stare in those eyes and not give this man everything you had.
However, to your surprise, he looked away from you first, nodding and letting his arm fall so you could head upstairs.
You started to walk out of the kitchen, prepared to sulk the last of your frustrations away before putting on the smile of a gracious host when you heard him call after you.
“What if they can?”
“What if they can what?” you glanced behind you.
“Help me fuck you into oblivion.”
You lurched forward, his words stopping you dead in your tracks.
No… he couldn’t mean… The tiniest thrill of excitement jolted across your brain like a shooting star. But you steadied yourself. He couldn’t possibly mean what you were thinking. So you played it off.
“Ha. ha. Ha. Very funny, A.”
“You hear me laughin’?”
You slowly turned around to find him behind you, his eyes brimmed with pure lust. But nothing in his face signaled he was joking about a single thing.
“Remember all those fantasies you told me about, princess?”
It would take lifetimes for you to forget. You had the most Earth-shattering orgasm of your life telling Aaron every filthy fantasy you had while he fucked you on your apartment balcony. You prayed they were long forgotten by breakfast the next morning, but he remembered every single one. And ever since, he made it his mission to help you fulfill them.
“Wait… you’re ser- you’re serious? You want to-”
It was most certainly a fantasy but the practicalities of it seemed unrealistic. You never seriously considered that Aaron would ever try to arrange it.
He merely smirked and pressed his lips to the top of your nose. His voice was low, hypnotic and mesmerizing.
“Got a few treats upstairs for you. Go get ready.”
“Wait… we aren’t gonna talk about this?? You aren't gonna give me details?”
“Nah. You’re gonna be a good girl for me tonight right, baby? I’d hate to punish you in front of company, princess.”
But EYE wouldn't hate that. A voice echoed in your brain, the thought of a spanking making you want to disobey just for the hell of it.
“Of course you’d like the sound of that,” he teased you before his eyes softened a bit. You could tell he saw it. That kernel of hesitation at the whole affair, that side of you that had to be in the driver’s seat wanting to talk and litigate every risk before you leaned into the pleasure of it.
“Hey, Y/N… baby. This is just going to be a fun night. And the moment it’s no longer fun for you, we stop. Just like that. Just say the word. If you aren’t feelin' it and him, we end it and it's still just a fun night with a friend. Understand?”
You nodded before correcting yourself so he didn’t have to. “Yes, I understand. Your surprise might’ve won out again… maybe you really are perfect.”
He shrugged. “That’s what I’ve been tryin' to tell you. Just gotta trust me. Now go get ready. Only wear what I laid out for you.”
Every step to your master suite pumped up your adrenaline. And made you fall deeper in love with your boyfriend. And his ability to fulfill your needs and desires and center your pleasure. He knew your limits, your boundaries, your needs and never wavered.
A black cocktail dress waited for you with strappy gold heels. Along with your gold choker, with “good girl” engraved on its gold charm and your gold bullet.
Your skin felt electrified, a buzz radiating from every cell as you readied yourself. You weren’t surprised at the slick already pooling at the crest of your thick thighs when you slid your thong to the side and eased the bullet into you. You hissed at the cool silicone against your heat but you persisted. It was uncomfortable for a moment but as you continued dressing, you long forgot its presence. You knew its companion, a small gold remote, was with your master. Exactly where it should be.
You examined yourself in the mirror, hands running over your soft curves as you studied yourself. You had to admit that Aaron picked well. The dress accentuated his favorite parts of your body, hugging your hourglass shape so your ass and thighs were on display. The cutouts and mirroring each side of your ribs and plunging neckline would give him easy access to your boobs, which were begging to be freed from the confines of the tight bodice.
“You look fuckin’ gorgeous baby.”
“Thank you. You picked well.”
“Final touch?” he picked up your choker, which waited for him on the bed. He always had the privilege of putting it on you. Because it signified the official start of your game. When the choker was on, your pleasure, your body was his to command, his to give and his to take away. Sweet surrender of control to the person you trusted most in this world.
He towered over you as he stood behind you and placed the piece on your neck.
“We’re gonna have dinner, dessert and then if you’re comfortable with continuing the night, just ask him to stay for a drink. Otherwise, the night will end. Understand?”
“Yes sir.”
“Good girl.” His hands traced the hourglass shape of your curves, his hands stilling only once along the near-indistinguishable lines of your thong. However, as he opened his mouth to speak, the shrill chime of their doorbell interrupted him. He sighed, turning you around in his arms. “Later. Ready to have some fun?”
“Yes daddy.”
Even in heels you had to stretch yourself to reach his lips. He took your hand, leading you down the stairs, some of your nerves being replaced by sudden intrigue.
“You really aren’t gonna tell me who it is??”
“What would be the fun in that?” With a wink back at her, he jogged the remaining steps and crossed the foyer with the quickness of an athlete and swung their door open.
“Hey man! Thanks for coming by. Glad we could do this.”
“Definitely, definitely. Thanks for the invite, man.”
And that was the second time today you found yourself stopped dead in your tracks. The Michael B. Jordan stepped into your foyer, his charisma and star-powered charm oozing out of his pores as if he naturally produced it.
Fuck me. He invited your celebrity crush, the main character of far more wet dreams than you’d ever admit out loud. And while Aaron was it for you, if you could ever take advantage of the “celebrity hall pass” concept, Michael Bae Jordan would be at the top of your list.
Well, that’s what he’s here to do. Daddy does indeed know best.
At first, you had a feeling you’d be taking Aaron’s out. But now? Hell would have to freeze over before you gave up the opportunity of your dreams. Part of you cursed yourself for not guessing it was him to begin with. Aaron had been in a total bromance with the man since they wrapped filming. But now you had more questions. How did this even come up? How do you organize a threesome? Is this just a normal thing to talk about?
Who the fuck cares? You’re about to have the night of your life.
You pushed them to the back of your mind, filing them away for tomorrow.
“And I don’t think you met my girl yet officially, but this is Y/N." The introduction forced your legs to start to move again, down the stairs and toward him.
“Geesh… they didn’t make lawyers like this when I was comin’ up. Michael,” he introduced himself. He held out his arms for a hug. “Aaron’s told me so much about you.”
“Good thin-,” You started to toss your boyfriend a teasing grin as you closed the last couple of feet to return Michael’s hug. However, just as you were in arm’s length, the forgotten vibrator nestled inside you came alive. You let out an involuntary cross between a sigh and a moan that couldn’t be hidden.
Could the ground open and just swallow me?
Michael’s eyes glistened with amusement, letting you know he was not ignorant to your reality.
“You good, baby girl?” he asked, with a knowing grin as you tried to avoid squirming in his embrace.
“Y-Yea, yea. Just h-had a chill. I was just gonna say that I hope he’s t-telling you good things,” you stammered, the jolts of pleasure siphoning off fractions of your vocal ability.
“Only good things, I promise. Just that you were the sexiest and best lawyer he’d ever seen. He was right about the first part, I’m sure he’s right about the second too.”
“Hardly the best.” Your tone and smile were the picture of humility at his praise. You liked the sound of it on his lips, you also didn’t hate the way “baby girl" sounded when he said it too.
“Y/N is being hella modest. She’s about to be the youngest junior partner in her firm’s history. And the first black woman.”
“Aye! That’s what’s up! So we’re celebrating tonight?”
You grinned. “Don’t wanna get ahead of ourselves… just office gossip you know. We’ll see in a week.”
Fuck, he was sexier than you imagined. Somehow tvs and movies simply didn’t do him justice. Like Aaron, he was at his peak physical weight, his muscles thick and lethal. They both stood in front of you looking like Gods, cut from the most perfect stone.
“I-it’s just so great to meet you. You’re one of my favorite actors.”
Michael drank you in like you were the finest glass of scotch, savoring every inch of skin exposed, every curve on prominent display. You felt hot underneath his stare, as if he had xray vision to see the promised lands this dress covered. You almost wilted like a flower under his intensity.
We aren’t gonna make it through dinner, you thought to yourself. Or I can just be dinner.
It was not your worst thought by far. The vision was quite enticing. Aaron ordering you to strip for them before displaying you on the table so they could feast on you. Your eyes darkened with clouds of lust. You cleared your throat, taking a deep breath, noting the amused glance that passed between the two men. Were all your thoughts broadcasting to them?
“We… should go into the dining room. Dinner’s basically ready,” you offered as the lamiest attempt to escape the spotlight of them. You held your hand out for his coat, giving both men a perfect view of your ass as you turned to hang it in the closet.
You didn’t attempt to hide the grin at the quiet but distinguishable wolf whistle from Michael. It felt good to know he liked what he saw.
And the feeling was most certainly mutual. Michael and Aaron kept you laughing all through dinner as they enthralled you with stories from set. He was engaging and funny and you loved the genuine brotherhood between him and your boyfriend. There was nothing but raw sexual chemistry between you but that was all you needed. Mutual attraction.
The only disappointing aspect of dinner was the utter silence between your legs. Once he turned it off at the start of dinner, Aaron didn’t touch that remote again, much to your chagrin. Two hours and several glasses of wine at the dinner table with two men gently caressing your arms and exposed thighs was a recipe for disaster. And you knew he could tell, see how worked up they had made you, how desperately you wanted more attention.
By dessert, you stopped retaining their words. They were utter nonsense to you because there were far more important things to consider. Like Michael’s dominating muscles and large hands, wondering how strong his grip will be when he fucks you from behind. Punishingly so, you prayed.
You swung between wanting to savor the compliments and worship of two men with needing to be filled, a need that almost had you begging them to fuck you right amongst the dinner plates. But you knew Aaron. The night was young and he liked to play with his prize.
By everyone’s fifth glass of wine, the conversation started to wind down, Michael getting up to head home.
“Thanks so much for this, man. Appreciate the invite. Good to catch up n shit.”
“Oh you have to leave so soon?” There was a hint of sadness in your voice, coupled with the pleas of your signature puppy eyes.
“I probably should… Gettin’ late, can’t take up your whole night.”
You assessed the moment briefly, confirming with every cell in your body and functioning brain cell in your head that you needed this more than the oxygen in the room.
So instead of wishing this walking wet dream a good night, you said, “You should stay for one more drink. We got this amazing bottle when we went to the South of France for our anniversary. Baby, we should open it and sit outside? It’s so nice out. We’re down to keep the good times going if you are.”
“You sure?”
“I insist! Besides, between the three of us, I think we can find some ways to entertain ourselves." The implication in your words couldn't be clearer. You were in and you were ready.
“I’ll grab that bottle from the cellar. Take Michael outside and make him comfortable, princess. Show him a good time while I’m gone.”
And with that, he turned your vibrator back on. He chose the second setting, which was just distracting enough to make the simple tasks of walking, talking and speaking exponentially harder for you.
“Yes sir.”
You forced your feet toward the giant sliding glass doors that led to your expansive backyard. You glanced behind you to find Michael jogging up behind you as he slid something into his pocket.
You tried to distract yourself from the pulses against your g-spot, the growing tension in your belly as pleasure started to build ever so slowly, by turning on the soft string lights hanging above your patio and the speakers to play music.
“Yall got a great view.”
“It was definitely the selling point of the house,” you smiled, awkwardly standing behind one of the chairs across from the couch.
His stance was wide, powerful and assured as he stared at you.
“You gonna sit with me?” When you didn’t move, he sighed. “He said you were obedient. But maybe you just need an incentive…”
Your knees almost gave out beneath you as he increased the setting to five.
“If you wanna feel better, I think you should sit, baby girl,” he offered, his voice low and comforting. “I don’t bite, promise.”
The menacing glint in his eyes let you know that he most certainly would bite if asked. And you would most certainly ask.
“S-sorry,” you awkwardly, quickly finding your way to the couch next to him. You started to sit when he beckoned you closer with a mere gesture of his finger. By the time he had you where he wanted you, you were sitting on his lap.
You leaned into his chest, your eyes falling closed as pleasure shot through you with every pulsing vibration. You bit the inside of your cheek to avoid moaning.
“You ok, Y/N? Seem a little flustered?” His fingers created flames all across your bare thigh as he subtly pushed up the fabric of your dress.
There was still something… tamed about how he touched you and caressed you. He came so close to the spots that demanded a firm strong hand, he held back every time. Like right now. Drawing featherlike patterns on your exposed side, toying with the edges of your thong but not shifting them to the side like you craved.
No, he simply savored the time teasing you, enjoying the soft moans his touch and the bullet caused.
“I’... I’m… fine, t-thank you,” you whispered back. “Just… o-overwhelmed.”
“You wanna cum, don’t you?” his husky voice demanded in your ear. At the sound, you couldn't suppress the moan of pleasure that escaped your lips. You rolled your hips, chasing more.
“Y-Yes…” you whimpered. “P-Please…”
“How’s my girl treating you, Michael?” Aaron’s voice interrupted their moment, his eyes piercing with desire as you writhed and rode another man's thigh. You looked perfect, unrestrained and free.
“Oh she’s perfect. You got a great girl here, A.”
“I know… she is. But she disobeyed me earlier so before she can cum, we have to punish her. Isn’t that right, baby?”
“Y-yes sir.” You didn’t even know what you did wrong but you weren’t going to argue or push back on him. Because this was already like entering a promised land of bliss. To hear him speak so openly about your punishment to another man while he masturbated you on his lap? Aaron was right. This was the destressor you really required.
“Can you tell Michael and daddy what you did wrong, princess?”
You raked your brain, knowing that “I don’t know” would only increase your punishment. Not that you would have particularly minded. Frequent punishments were simply the norm for a proud and loud brat.
And then it hit you, such a small and silly infraction that Michael’s fingers were currently playing with.
“I… w-wore my panties w-when I wasn’t allowed,” you answered.
“That’s right. And we don’t cover up daddy’s prize, do we?”
“No… daddy.”
“You want to be a good girl for Michael and I… don’t you?”
His voice was hypnotic. Despite the pleasure disobeying him brought, you could not help but want to please him, to be his good girl again.
“Y-yes, daddy.”
“And good girls deserve what?”
“Punishment before pleasure.”
“That’s right, baby. So tonight, Michael’s gonna have the honor. How many spankings you think our slut deserves?”
“I’d say 25… 30?”
“30 feels fair. What do you think, princess?”
“Wh-whatever daddy wants,” you whimpered. That was the only acceptable response. Besides, you knew Aaron knew your limits and wouldn’t let Michael cross them.
“That's right, baby girl. She can be good when she wants to, just needs remindin’ of her place sometimes,” he mused. And with that, Michael turned off the bullet, a groan of pure frustration escaping your lips.
Punishment before pleasure, you reminded yourself. Why can’t my punishment be sucking their dicks or something??
Michael helped you up, your legs feeling slightly weak after they robbed you of your orgasm. They didn’t bother trying to carry you up the stairs, Michael merely directed you to your deep forest green sectional in the living room and leaned you over one of its arms. He slid off his belt and tied your hands behind your back, ensuring they were loose enough to avoid injury but tight enough not to escape without effort.
You were deliciously helpless.
“Fuck, that’s a gorgeous sight,” you could hear Michael mutter as the two men merely stared at you, boobs pressed out due to your hands being bound, your ass high in the air from being bent over. “Her ass is perfect, man.”
“It’ll look even better when you’re done. Don’t hold back. She loves that shit and she knows our safe word.”
You were glad he assured Michael that you would adore the sweet sting of his palm. You encouraged Aaron to put his entire weight into your spankings when you took on the role as his princess. Forever a gentle soul at his core, he did not like the idea of causing you real, significant pain, preferring to lean heavily into other aspects of dominating you.
It certainly made you fall more in love with him, witnessing his gentleness and concern for your well-being to such a degree. You supposed it was the greenest of flags that it took about 10 long discussions for him to feel comfortable. And even years later, he still checked in throughout to make sure you still enjoyed it. You weren’t a masochist by any means spankings in particular were more than enticing to you. It left you drenched and on the cusp on an orgasm without Aaron doing anything else.
Even more so right now with your ass presented to the two men like a hard-earned prize. You subconsciously stuck your ass out further in search of something. A touch, a slap… literally anything. Your body was reeling.
And you did not even care who was behind you to give you what you needed.
“She’s fuckin’ desperate for it.”
“Yea, she’ll be begging you for it in a minute. I mean I was gone for what? 5 minutes, princess? And I come back and you're humpin' his leg like a filthy whore? And you loved it didn't you? Wanted more? I bet you wanna beg him to tear that ass up right now, don't you?”
Daddy knows me too well. Because the word please was on the cusp of your lips, begging to tumble over like water on a cliff.
You moaned as two hands gripped the firm meat of your ass, kneading and caressing you before they found the helm of your dress. You knew exactly whose hands they were, confirming that Aaron was indeed giving Michael the pleasure of administering your punishment.
His fingers pushed your dress up the rest of the way to expose your ass cheeks, an unmistakable wet spot at the center of your thong.
“Don’t think she’ll be needing this anymore. Whatchu think?” Michael asked Aaron as his finger hooked the delicate fabric around her hips.
“Nahhh, definitely not.”
“FUCK!” You cried out as your thong was unceremoniously ripped clean from your body, the fabric leaving welts on your skin.
You felt his fingers graze your lips.
“All this for us, kitten?”
You merely whimpered an affirmative answer as he presented his fingers covered in your juices. He stuck them in your mouth, you sucking your cum clean off his fingers.
"Can't wait to make you cum all over my tongue, kitten. You taste so fuckin' good."
“P-Please…” You thought you’d implode if you continued to suppress your desperation. Your body felt as if you were betraying her. Why weren’t you trying hard enough, begging loud enough to earn the pleasure you were being deprived of.
“See?”
“You weren’t lyin’. Tell me what you want, kitten”
He’s gonna make me say it??
The words were caught in your throat, blocked by a mental barrier to admit such a depraved thought out loud.
“If you wanna cum at all tonight, I suggest you say that shit. Cause we got all night.”
The lethal warning in his tone forced your thighs together, an electric shock through your body. He was a natural. And the dominance in his voice was all it took to rip the weeds of hesitation right out of your soil.
“S-spank me… please,” Half words, half sobs filled the quiet air. This was untenable. Could you die from this? It felt like you might die from this. “I n-need it. P-Punish me… please.”
The first vicious sting of his hand did make a real sob of joy escape, the sound reverberating through the living room.
You buried your face in the couch cushion for the first few in a foolish attempt to quiet your mounting screams of pain wrapped in the sweet pleasure. His brute strength ensured you felt the ache of every hit. On par with Aaron when your punishments were severe. You were still feeling it days later.
Your head pulled back, his fist wrapped around your curls.
“Do that again and I add five. Understand?”
“Y-yes, yes. I’m sorry,” you moan, keeping your eyes forward and head up.
You felt familiar hands cradle your head, Michael releasing your strains to play with your slick folds in between each blow.
Aaron’s body came into view as he held your chin, forcing you to stare into his beautiful eyes. Clouded with lust, you still could see every ounce of his love and devotion.
“You ok, precious?” he whispered. “Got 10 more.”
“M-More.”
“You’re such a good slut for me, baby. I love you.” His eyes softened a bit. “You want a treat while Michael gives you your punishment? I wouldn’t usually but tonight is all about you, princess.”
You licked your lips, the sudden sparkle in your eyes answering his question without words. You were impatient at the pace he went to unbutton his pants.
He knew how much you loved sucking dick. Genuinely loved it. On more than one occasion, you came home after a long day and immediately dropped to your knees to serve him unprompted. Of course, it always ended up leading to him giving you back the same pleasure tenfold. So it was a win all around.
You licked the beads of precum from his head before enveloping him into your mouth, moaning around him just as Michael rained down the last of your punishment.
Fire. Your skin felt hot and inflamed with every bite of his palm against your skin. And they sent jolts of lust straight to your clit.
“You’re taking your punishment so well. You’re not gonna disobey me again, are you?”
Strings of your spit stayed connected to his dick as he pulled back so you could answer him.
“Never again, daddy!”
“That’s my good girl. You took that so well. Didn’t she?”
You hissed as he gently massaged your hot skin. Fuck, why did his hands feel so good?
“She did. You think she’s ready, A?”
“I think she is.”
You found a secret joy in the way they spoke only to you to dole out orders, but then talked about you to each other like you were merely a piece of furniture.
Aaron scooped you up in his arms, your body immediately nestling into his chest as he carried you to your master suite. He tossed you on the bed like a rag doll as Michael closed the door to your suite. And for a few moments, they simply stood there. Towering over you, intoxicated by the power and anticipation, they didn’t speak or move. They just watched you squirm beneath them.
“You know I love you right?” Aaron broke character for a single moment.
“Of course.”
“Good. Cause it ain’t gon' seem like it for a minute. You know how daddy wants you.”
Fuck. Yes.
There was a challenging grin on your face as you removed the last obstacle to their conquest, leaving you bare before them. With great pleasure, you shifted onto your hands and knees and sank into position. Presenting yourself to him. Vulnerable, exposed. To two apex predators.
And you were ready to be devoured.
Michael pounced with such swiftness of jaguar indeed, you suddenly finding yourself straddling his hips. His punishing grip around your lower back kept you flush to his chest as his lips claimed yours.
Frenzied, animalistic, downright sloppy kisses as you two gave into your most base desires. There was no love here, just lust in its most instinctual level. You two fought for dominance in your kisses, you mainly showing him that you were no damsel.
He moved you with ease, like you were a feather, turning you so your head dangled off the edge of the bed.
“I think our kitten needs a bit of attention.”
His lips kissed a burning trail down your body, veering off course to engulf each of your nipples in his wet mouth, while his hand played with your throbbing clit.
You whined, feeling his breath against your sex, his grip holding your hips firmly to the bed to stop you from getting any more pleasure than he decided.
“So eager.”
He licked up the wetness that spread to your thighs, still avoiding touching you there. He was a menace. The devil really.
You screamed as he wrapped his lips around your bud, every nerve ending in your body zeroed in on him.
Aaron guided your agape mouth onto his hard member again, your tongue licking him like he was your favorite lollipop. He exchanged the bullet for his fingers, easing a second one inside your pussy.
Your litany of curse words were indecipherable with Aaron’s mouth ramming down your throat. He did not let you control the pace one bit. Your mouth was merely a means to an end for him.
You gagged, tears streaming down your face from the sensory overload of having them work in tandem to bring you pain, pleasure, and everything in between.
You arrived at the cliffs of pleasure far faster than you expected, your body ready to fall for the first time all night. Your thighs tightened around Michael’s head as you tried to control it. Foolish it sounded, to stop the fall. But you couldn’t tumble just yet.
You didn’t stop your task of sucking to ask. Instead, you simply stared up at him with plea-filled round eyes.
“Cum on his tongue, princess. Cum for daddy.”
You dove off the cliff with earnest as Michael chose that moment to add a fourth finger, finger fucking you with relentless speed.You let your eyes fall close and surrendered to the crashing waves and thrilling currents that pulled you into oblivion. Right where you wanted to be.
Only Aaron could find the cherry on top to this already perfect sundae as he spilled down your throat. It was typically reserved for her treat as he knew you adored swallowing. And you were grateful he found you deserving.
Aaron took a step back, you pouting at the loss of his dick in your mouth.
“Don’t worry, princess. Won’t be your last taste for the night.” He leaned down and kissed you deeply, a soft whimper escaping at how familiar his lips felt. Home. “I think you need to thank Michael for punishing you earlier and making you cum. How do good whores say thank you?”
"On their knees, daddy."
You moved off the bed and onto the carpet, Michael already sliding off his boxers. Your voice hitched as his girthy thick member sprang from his boxers.
He smirked told her he knew what he was wielding and how to use it well. Admittedly, you had only had sex with three men in your life, two of whom were present. But you felt confident in saying these two Gods among lesser men had the most impressive dicks you’d ever seen.
You’d never live down the humiliation of your near panic attack during you and Aaron’s first time.
“I don’t think you’ll fit,” you remember muttering before trying to escape to hide in his bathroom, your brain overloaded with the fear that he would somehow break you.
But like the perfect gentlemen he was, he held you close and calmed you with sweet kisses and talked you through every inch as he sank into you for the first time. He naturally reached regions you thought were anatomically impossible. You often referred to it as his weapon, one that left you utterly immobile too often.
Michael was similarly blessed and highly favored. Though he lacked a bit of Aaron’s length, his had a girth to it that you knew would cause a stinging stretch. It would be different and you liked the idea of that. As much as your body wanted to skip to that part, you also were feral for a taste of him.
Aaron sat in the arm chair across the room, the perfect view to watch as Michael slid his dick between your plump lips. He stroked his dick back to life watching you spit and gulp down his dick.
“That’s right. Fuckkkk. Get it sloppy, baby girl. Fuck your throat feels good.”
Your body glowed at his praise, Aaron grinning to himself. He adored seeing you in this light, gaining a new perspective to how you felt freedom and pleasure. He never wanted to stop learning how to love you better, please you better.
Inexplicable pride swelled when your eyes connected with him, your dilated pupils lighting up at his smile.
“You ready for me to fuck that pussy, kitten?” Michael demanded, punctuating each word with a deep thrust into the back of your throat. Attempting to respond was a foolish endeavor with him balls deep down your throat.
He pulled out of your mouth and lifted you up to your feet, immediately moving you into his desired position. He bent you over the edge of the bed, one hand glued to your hip while the other pushed your head into the mattress. He positioned you so you were staring right at Aaron.
Being watched. New kink unlocked. You were an actress on display and he was your director, in full control. And it was time to watch his masterpiece.
Your eyes fluttered out of enticing humiliation and bliss as Michael’s head bounced against your pulsing clit.
“Eyes open, princess. And on me."
And this was a moment that made you question who you truly were. A good girl or a disobedient slut? The devil on your shoulder didn’t need deliberation time. You were a disobedient whore. You wanted to be utterly spent when this night was over.
But you also knew he knew that, which is why he picked a task he knew you’d fail either way. You could try as hard as you wanted, it would be impossible to maintain eye contact.
“You ready for Michael to fuck you, princess?”
“Yesssss! Fuck me… I need it.” It was as critical to your survival as air.
You immediately failed at your task, your eyes clenching shut as he pushed inside of you.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” you hissed, begging for the moment when the lightening flash of pain subsided and pleasure took root.
“Fuckin’ tight ass pussy on you, kitten,” he gave you a few moments to adjust. When your expletives turned into quiet moans, he moved.
"Won't tell you this shit again, princess. Eyes open and on me or I start spankin’ you when it’s my turn. And you ain’t gon’ like that shit.”
“Sorryyyy, dadddyyyyy.”
His hips snapped viciously into you, his dick curving into your g-spot with every thrust.
Bliss.
Joy.
You panted as he fucked you with relentless precision, he didn’t let a moment go to waste as he fucked you. His grip along your hip was bruising as he pushed and pulled against your body. Never the lazy lover, you met every thrust, using your arms as leverage to throw your fat ass back at him.
“That’s it! Take this dick, slut! You like how I’m fuckin’ this pussy??” he demanded, a hard smack coming down on your still aching ass when you didn’t answer fast enough.
There was no way he actually believed you could form coherent thoughts right now.
“I… love it! D-... don’t stop! Fuck… I’m gonna cum!” Your eyes had not stayed on your master as they should’ve, nor had you even tried that hard. But you deliberately cast them on him to beg for permission. “C-Can I cum daddy?? He feels so gooddddd…”
“Why the fuck would I let you cum? You disobedient whore? Can’t follow simple fuckin’ instructions.
Well shit. He was pissed.
Your face was one of sadness at upsetting your daddy but everything inside was filled to the brim with glee. You weren’t going to be able to walk tomorrow. And then you could look forward to a day of aftercare and pampering from your love.
“P-please, please. I-I’m sorry!! I tried. I-I can’t…” Michael was not helping your cause as you pleaded your case in front of a less than sympathetic judge. He found some superhuman ability to increase his already punishing pace, jackhammering into your g-spot. “Let me cum, pleasseeeee! I can’t hold it.”
“She’s clenchin’ on my dick, brah.”
You were going to cum either way, inevitably, but you were holding strong for those magic words. Moments before you felt yourself starting to break, you finally heard him.
“Cum for me.”
“She’s creamin’ on this dick. This some good pussy, my man! You one lucky nigga.” He didn’t slow his pace as he fucked you through your second orgasm. "That's right, cum all over this dick, baby."
How were you not spent yet? No, you still wanted so much more.
You lost track of your orgasms as Michael moved you into his desired positions, fucking you every type of way that suited him. And all the while, Aaron just watched, commanding your eyes to him in the moments leading up to your orgasms, forcing you to hold his gaze across the dark room.
You thought the Earth had reversed on its axis somehow.
“I’ll let you decide where you want it, kitten. On you or down your throat.”
“Cum on my ass!”
“Whatever baby girl wants.” He pulled out of you and sprayed your back and ass cheeks with his seed. You sighed out of contentment as you laid there, knowing your night was far from over. But you were grateful for the brief reprieve.
Michael shifted off to the side as Aaron rejoined you, the Brit studying your ass painted in another man’s cum. If there was a way be any harder than he already was, he would be it right now.
“You’re fuckin’ gorgeous, princess. I love you so much, you’re such a good girl for me. You ready for daddy, now?”
You nodded enthusiastically. Michael was amazing but no one fucked you quite like Aaron. Those were the simple facts.
“Good girl,” he flipped you and pushed your legs up so your knees were essentially up at your ears.
This was a frankly evil thing to do, to start with this position. It was simplistic but he would pound you so deep, you saw fucking stars. At this rate, you would be tapping out far earlier than you would have hoped.
“Ahhhh! Yessssss… thank you daddy! Love your dick, daddy!” You screamed as he entered you in one fluid motion, ending deep in your guts.
“You take me so well, baby. You like how deep I’m fuckin’ this pussy?”
“Yes, yes! Shit! God I love it! Oh Goddddd, fuck, baby…”
“Ain’t no God to call out to here, princess. Just your masters.”
You gasped at the sudden all consuming emptiness of him exiting you. You felt his hand catch your ankle, which was still in the air where he left you. He dragged you to the edge of the bed and lifted you to your feet. You almost collapsed on your stiff legs but you quickly realized, he was not intending for you to support your own weight long.
He hinged you at the waist, your fingertips supporting balancing some of your weight until he reentered you and regained control of your hips. He did all the work, holding all your weight with his strength as he fucked you straight into a sweet abyss. Nothing else mattered. Just the two of you.
Well… three of you. Speaking of which… as if Aaron could read her mind, he says, “Suck him like the whore I know you are.”
Using his strength to turn you both so you were eye level with Michael’s dick. He was getting hard, rested and ready for round two with ease. Both men looked as if they could do this all night while you knew you looked like you had been fucked just as good as you felt.
You surrendered your mouth to Michael, allowing the actor to face fuck you to his heart’s content. And you simply enjoyed every moment of them fucking your holes like men possessed. No breaks, no time for breaths. Nothing. Just unforgiving feral fucking.
You didn’t bother counting the orgasms they gave you as the two men traded places multiple times, using your mouth and pussy to their heart’s content. They worked up a perfect rhythm that brought you thrilling moment after thrilling moment
“Don’t run, fuckin’ whore! You been takin’ it all night. Came in here with that fuckin' attitude. Take this dick!” Aaron ordered as you shied away from his forceful thrusts as he fucked you doggy style.
Your body was being driven past overload as they stimulated every part of you. You could barely concentrate on Michael’s dick in front of your face with how Aaron was fucking you, clearly getting the last word of the evening.
You thought you knew what overstimulation felt like but you had no fucking idea until today. But you knew the orgasm you were building toward would be your best yet, would be worth every moment of this.
“Shit, I’m gonna cum!” Michael called out.
“I’m close too. Daddy’s gonna cum in this sweet pussy, baby. But first, your other punishment. Cum as much as you want.”
And with that, he and Michael went utterly and completely feral on your body, chasing one goal: their collective simultaneous pleasure.
Michael grunted as he painted your face in his cum, much of it landing in your open mouth. He collapsed on the bed next to you, your body immediately crumbling forward without him holding you up. He caressed your skin as Aaron mercilessly fucked you, matching every thrust of his hips forward with a harsh slap to your ass. You knew you would have to endure as many as it took for him to cum.
Shit. You really fucked up.
You screamed and squealed, Michael roughly making out with you and sucked and bit your titties as if you needed more. You and Aaron reached the peaks of your mountains at the same time. At the warmth of him filling your pussy, white blanketed in your vision and sent you free falling into a new stratosphere.
Time felt inconceivable when you opened your eyes again. In your mind, no time had passed but instead of being on the bed, you were surrounded by warmth. Warm water lapped over your aching muscles, something hard propping you up from behind.
“What’s…” you started to say, trying to lift up when a muscular arm snaked around your chest to hold you flush to him.
“Relax, relax, princess. You’re good. Take a breath. Just blacked on us for a minute.”
His voice calmed all the uneasy waters of your soul, you were safe and home with him. There was no better place to be in this life or the next.
“Where’s… our guest?” Your voice cracked from the overuse of your throat. You rubbed your neck instinctively.
“I’ll make you some tea when we get out,” he kissed your temple. “And he passed out in one of the guest rooms. I may have told him there was a strong possibility you’d be up for another round in an hour or two. Told me to get him when you finish soakin’ so he can give you a massage.”
And you knew exactly where the yellow brick road of a massage would lead: to the Emerald Fucking City of Round 4.
Your libido was just as high, if not higher than Aaron’s. More than once, it had been you demanding rounds 4-6 after he already wore you out during 1-3.
“One day you’re gonna get it wrong, you know?” you tease, allowing your head and back to rest with ease onto his chest. His hands massaged your hips and thighs and breasts, all sore from their spanking and biting. “That feels soooo good. You got the magic touch, baby.”
You ok, love? We were rough on you.”
“More than ok. That was the most… insane and fun thing I’ve ever done. Exactly what I needed and wanted. Thank you, Aaron.”
“Anything for you, princess. Rest for me, love.”
You allowed your eyes to flutter closed again, dozing in the comfort of your boyfriend’s arms as he continued releasing knots from your muscles. You simply laid there with him, savoring him and the afterglow of being his.
However, after about 15 minutes, you had rested long enough. This night would end eventually, you wanted to make the most of it with your two daddies.
“Daddy… I think I’m ready for that massage now,” your eyes glistened with your true intentions, letting Aaron know that you were no close to done.
He let out a low chuckle of disbelief. “You really are one of a kind, Y/N.”
“I know,” you winked at him with a playful grin. “Now massage, please.,” you demanded like the spoiled brat you were.
Aaron got out of the bath first, his entire body glistening with water on every perfect panel of muscle and taunt skin. Was it nice being a bead of water sliding down that skin? It might be nice to be a bead of water on his skin.
He quickly toweled himself off before helping you up, using his arms around you as your legs shook.
He dried you before laying you back down on the bed, disappearing down the hall while you laid on your stomach and simply waited.
“Well well well… couldn’t get enough could you, kitten?”
You heard them before you saw them.
“No sir.”
“She’s insatiable. Makes her a good little whore for me, doesn’t it, princess?”
You felt their weight on both sides of the bed.
“Yes, daddy,” you whined as their fingers started doing the Lord’s work massaging out every knot and kink buried in your limbs.
You turned your head toward Aaron, reaching up and kissing him softly as a private thank you before laying down again. You closed your eyes and let them work, let them take care of you.
Whoever said “three’s a crowd” clearly hadn’t met these two.
𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - Multiple OC’s x David Jonsson, Damson Idris, Tyriq Withers & Aaron Pierre
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - Four successful women and friends in New York navigate love, careers, and themselves while never missing their weekly table at Alba’s.
𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - Strong language, adult humor, mentions of sex, drinking
𝐉𝐚𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 - hey…….hey, how yall doin?….been a minute. I saw my man David Jonsson again and knew I had to write something for him, but I know that community is small, so I decided to help out all of my small communities and show love. Thinking about changing Aaron’s character to Jacob Anderson maybe…idk. Let me know what you guys think. Sorry for any spelling errors and grammar mistakes.
𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 2,734+
𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - ᯓ★ | ᯓ★ | ᯓ★ |
Alba’s was not the trendiest place in New York, nor was it the fanciest. The restaurant sat tucked between a slower shop and a boutique, marked only by its pale yellow awning that sagged slightly from years of rain. But it was theirs. Louise Alba, the owner and longtime friend of the girls, had made sure they never had to fight for a table. Whether it was brunch after a long weekend, a quick drink between meetings, or, such as today, a lunch date that bled into early evening, Alba’s was like their church, confessional booth, stage and audience all in one.
Gabriella was mid-rant, perched in her chair with her ever perfect posture. Her navy blazer clung to her shoulders just right, a necessary cover for the pale coffee stain blooming across the silk of her cream blouse. She jabbed an un-manicured finger in the air as if cross-examining her friends that sat before he as she spoke.
“Do you all understand the kind of day I’m having? I feel like my blowout is starting to look diabolical, I ruined my favorite blouse. And the heel on my professional Louboutin pumps snapped on my way here—on the law firm steps! I had to use the pair I keep in my desk and they are no where near professional. And to make matters worse, I haven’t had time for a mani-pedi in three weeks. Three. Weeks.”
Her voice pitched higher with each offense.
Across the table, Paloma was busy reapplying her lipstick in her compact mirror. The sunlight streaming through the window caught on her silver jewelry as she twist and turned herself in the mirror to spot any missed imperfections. She hummed faintly in acknowledgment, though her eyes never left her reflection. Even stopping to admire herself a bit, offering her reflection a practiced a smile.
India had ordered a fresh round of drinks—a mojito this time, thanking the waiter silently to not interrupt her friends story. Though the drink was her fourth variation of alcohol since they’d sat down. She lounged lazily in her chair, her short pixie-cut sharp against the collar of her oversized black paint splattered shirt, a fashion catalog spread across her lap. Every now and then, she’d lick her finger to flip a page, making notes in the margins that only she could decipher.
Vivian, the baby of the group and the only one still sporting the flushed glow of athleticism, grinned down at her phone. The dimples in her cheeks deepened as she tapped something back, completely oblivious to Gabriella’s tirade.
Gabriella’s eyes narrowed as she stopped, gaze bouncing from one woman to the next. She sat there silently for a bit before demanding. “Are you heifers even listening to me?” She asked in disbelief.
“Yeah.” They chorused in perfect unison, but none of them looked up from what they were doing. Gabriella scoffed, snatching the napkin from her lap and slapping her linen napkin onto the table. She pushed her chair back, rising to her feet. “Oh, nuh uh.” She mumbled, grabbing her bag from the table and was about to turn her body towards the door, and that seemed to get their attention.
That got their attention.
“Okay, wait.” Paloma said quickly, snapping her compact closed. “Don’t go.”
“We’re listening.” Vivian added sweetly, her doe eyes darting up from her phone as she sat up in her seat.
Gabriella’s lips pressed into a thin line then. She plopped back into her chair with a small sigh. “Yeah, right.” She scoffed.
“I wasn’t.” India said monotonically, finally glancing up from her catalog. Her honesty was brutal but delivered with a sly smile towards Gabriella. Vivian’s head snapped towards the woman while Gabriella pointed at India lazily, glancing between the other two women. “At least she has the balls to tell me the truth.” The lawyers stated.
“I mean…” Paloma began delicately, tucking her lipstick away. “You can be a little… argumentative.” She said with a slight wince.
“What do you mean by that? Expound.”
“See?” Paloma gestured with both hands. “Case in point.”
India sighed and closed her magazine with exaggerated patience. “And also, no one wants to hear about your bad day at work on such a fine evening. No offense.” She smiled with false sweetness. “None taken.” Gabriella replied smoothly, flashing the same saccharine smile back. “Though, just curious—aren’t you currently unemployed?” She snipped.
Paloma and Vivian burst out laughing, while India choked on her mojito, chuckling despite herself. “You are such a bitch.” She said in her usual deadpan, though there was a hint of amusement there.
“I told you I was having a bad day.” Gabriella shrugged with a coy grin. Then, with the honesty of someone who wasn’t at a public restaurant, she added. “Plus, my period just started. So, sorry.” She shrugged.
“You’re not sorry.” India said.
“I’m not.”
“I know.” India smirked, leaning back. “Now enough with your bad juju, girl. I told you about that. Think positively and positive things will happen.”
“I don’t think Gabi’s capable of thinking positively.” Paloma murmured before sipping her mimosa. Laughter rippled through the table again, though Gabriella only shrugged, unapologetic.
“And for the record, I’m not unemployed.” India straightened, brushing the bangs of her short hair aside. “I’m just… in between jobs.” She shrugged. “See? Positive thinking.” She grinned over at Gabriella, raising her glass to the woman, who rolled her eyes at her.
“You’ve been in between jobs for weeks.” Gabriella reminded her.
“At least it’s not months.” India waved a hand, ever the optimist. “And it’s only because I dropped my last two clients, I couldn’t take it anymore.” She sighed, placing her head in her hands. “They were signed to Chanel, and do you know how exhausting it is to beg that company for something wearable? I mean, Chanel ready to wear is good, but haute couture? Chanel only gives the good shit to Kristen Stewart and she’s been signed to them since she was, like, fucking sixteen.” She groaned before lifting her head and picking up her glass and downing the rest of her drink for emphasis.
“I mean, I didn’t drop you as my stylist.” Vivian offered with a small smile. “So, you;re not totally broke.”
India sat up, finger raised like she was shushing a child. “Ah, ah! No one ever said I was broke, don’t put that out there.” She stated firmly, lip turned up in annoyance. Vivian raised her hands in surrender, while India exhaled dramatically. “And yes, Viv, I adore you and I appreciate the thoughts. But you’re an athlete, a runner at that. You live in track suits, spandex panties, and don’t go out much.”
“Fair point.” Vivian admitted with a shrug.
“But, no worries.” Paloma spoke up, a large beam encapsulated on her face. “You can dress me, and everyone else at this table, for this year’s Covey Gala.”She said, and the effect was instant. All three women gasped, leaning closer, and voices overlapping in disbelief.
“No way!” Vivian said, placing her phone face down on the table.
“What?” Gabriella demanded.
“You know where it’s being held this year?” India asked eagerly.
“Well, not officially.” Paloma shrugged casually. “I just know that Mr.Cameron had me put together a list of places large enough to fit around 2,000+ people about six months ago, and today, I’m showing this client one of the places on this list. It’s The Glasshouse.” She explained, and watched as her friends practically freak out even more, eyes widening as they looked at her.
“Are you serious?” Vivian said, reaching over and clasping Paloma’s arm in disbelief. “The Glasshouse? Connected to the aquarium? The one with the sky view? Do you know how long I’ve tried to get in there?”
“Yes.” Paloma said to the excited woman. “Two years.”
“Two years!” Vivian echoed, smacking the table.
India whistled low. “That place’s super exclusive. They wouldn’t let one of my clients set reservations once there once, and it was this whole shit show. But the food is supposed to be life-changing.” Once she was done, Vivian’s excitement died a little, blinking at the woman.
“I was more so just excited about us going actually.” She admitted awkwardly. “But, that’s a big deal too.” She said, offering Paloma a small smile, who
winced at that. “Yeah, about that.” She said, removing Vivian’s hand from her arm. “The invites aren’t really official.” She stated with an awkward laugh.
Their smiles all dropped then, and Vivian deflated visibly. “What? What do you mean?” Vivian asked.
“Well, for one, it may not even be the gala.” Gabriella spoke up, toying with the rim of her glass of wine. “I would think they were more secretive than that considering this is one of the biggest and exclusive events in the country.” She shrugged.
“Thank you, Gabriella Garibaldi, Esquire.” Paloma added with a faux grin.
“Attorney at Law.” Gabi winked, only gaining a laugh from India, who wasn’t as bummed as Vivian and as stressed as Paloma.
“I also still have to show them the place to see if they like it.” The real estate agent began again. “And if they don’t that’s a whole other thing.” She mumbled. “But I also have to work my magic and finesse my way in, and then land us all official invitations.” She stated. She gave Vivian a sad smile, who was obviously bummed at the news that there wasn’t a definitive answer.
“You got me worked up for nothing.” The youngest girl mumbled leaning back in her seat with a disappointed shake of her head.
“Oh, don’t be a baby.” Paloma groaned, reaching over to lightly shove the girls shoulder. “There’s still a high possibility. And if it’s a hot man, that makes it an even higher possibility.” She beamed mischievously, trying to cheer her friend up. Vivian simply nodded before her phone buzzed, vibrating the table a bit. She was quick to grab it, a small smile etching its way onto her face when she looked at the screen.
“What if he’s married?” Gabriella chimed in, catching Paloma’s attention, who let out a small scoff as she brought her mimosa to her lips. “That never stopped anything before.” She chortled.
India chuckled with her, while Gabriella shook her head. “You’re a sick woman, Paloma.”
“You’re a fucking lawyer, Gabi. You’re, like, top five sickest people on the planet.” Paloma stated.
“And who’s the rest?” Said lawyer questioned, and at that, both women turned to the one with the pixie cut, who was quick to answer.
“Excluding rapists, racists and pedophiles because they will all perish from a long death and be burned and tortured in the afterlife.” India began, gaining nods of approval from the other women. “We have, billionaires, politicians, people that do hedge funds or anything stock market related, the HOA, and Lawyers.” She listed, holding up and finger on each name. “And right under that is reality tv producers.”
“And that’s not worse than a lawyer?” Gabi questioned.
“Very close, but no.” Paloma said in faux sadness, shaking her head. A laughed erupted then, causing all of the women to look over at Vivian, who was back to being encapsulated in her phone. They three older women looked at her before eyeing one another.
Gabriella leaned forward, lowering her voice. “How much longer are we going to ignore this?”She began. “It’s already been two months.”
“Damn, two months?” India muttered sharply in shock. “I only noticed last week.”
“I don’t even know what the hell y’all are talking about.” Paloma added, causing Gabrielle’s to roll her eyes before looking over at the athlete.
“So, who’s the guy?” She spoke up, catching Vivian’s attention. She looked up, eyes widening in shock at the sight of all three women looking at her. She looked to her left, locking eyes with Gabriella. “Huh?” She asked, though she heard the woman perfectly clear, simply stalling to come up with a lie.
“You heard me.” Gabi said, seeing right through her, causing Vivian to sigh.
“This guy.” She started, trying to bite back her smile at the mere mention of him, though she had little luck.
“We’ve gathered.” Paloma said dryly. “Now spill, who is he, what does he do for work, how old is he, does he have good credit, and is he in need of a home?”
“Or a stylist?” India added with a lazy shrug.
“Or a lawyer?” Gabi asked with a smile, and Vivian blinked at them all in shock. She hesitated for a bit, trying to take in all their questions, but also trying to decide whether or not she wanted them to know. Sensing her internal conflict, Gabriella leaned forward, edging closer to the woman.
“You’ve been talking to this guys for what, three months—.”
“Four.”
“Four months now.” Gabi finished. “You usually tell us at the two week mark.“
“I know.” Vivian groaned, throwing her head back. “That’s why I didn’t say anything. It’s like, as soon as I tell you guys, he’s turns out to be a piece of shit or a total bum. And then I’m embarrassed a year.”
“That’s why you should tell us.” Paloma spoke up. “So we can see if this guy is a piece of shit or a total bum.”
“Plus, you’re still young, you’re supposed to date, sleep with and steal from pieces of shit and total bums.” India added. Vivian furrowed her brows at her while Gabi looked over in shock. “Steal?” She echoed. “You said you never stole from Brian. Were those diamond cufflinks you gave me his?” The lawyer asked her friend in disbelief, voice rising in shock.
“Brian was rich and stupid and I steal from all my ex’s.” India shrugged. “Now this isn’t about me, this is about Vivian, shh.” She said before looking back over at the youngest girl.
“I know that you guys are helpful and have saved me from plenty of douches.” Vivian started. “But, I really want this one to last. Even if he is some secret loser that I can’t see yet. I really like him.” She said, looking between her friends. “He makes me laugh, he’s great at giving gifts—.”
“Oh, honey, you can stop there. That’s all I needed to hear.” Paloma said, placing her hand on top of Vivian’s. “You keep a man like that.” She grinned.
“Well, at least—“
“Wait!” India cut Gabriella off, causing their heads to snap over to her. “Is the sex good?” She asked.
They all looked back at India, who had heat creep up her neck as she smiled bashfully. “Yeah.” She chuckled.
“Okay, now you can stop.” India said with a nod, leaning back in her seat.
“As I was saying.” Gabriella started again, pausing to give the other two looks incase they wanted to cut in again. “At least tell us more about him.” She said.
Vivian nodded, sitting up more in her chair. “Okay, well, his names Tyriq. He plays football for a living, he’s my age. I don’t know how good his credit is but when we go places, we always fly first class and get access to the lounge areas. In need of a home? No. A stylist, I don’t think so. And I hope not a lawyer.” She listed off, answering all of their previous questions. India nodded while Paloma ooh’ed at the sound of the man’s credit. Gabriella squinted at Vivian then before letting out a soft hum.
“Hm. You better be lucky I don’t know much about sports enough to find out this guys is.” She said.
“I’m pretty sure it would be easy to google.” Vivian stated.
“I don’t care enough.” Gabriella shrugged. “I’ll leave that until we meet him in person.” She said. She then looked down at her watch, which was right on time. “And it looks like I have to get back to work anyways.” She said and then began to get ready to go. She took a few bills from her purse that was on the table and placed them on the white cloth before shouldering her purse and touching up her makeup in the reflection of her wine glass.
“Okay, see you ladies later.” She said with a flick of her hair over her shoulder. She stood up from her seat, faint goodbyes from her friends echoing before she left.
