#black reader smut

[wisteria-bae]

When I’m reading a smut fic and tryna figure out what position they’re in

[princess-angel-23]

When you're a black girl in a mostly white fandom

[krematedsworld]

How it feels finding SOME x reader fics but when you start reading it's straight corny stuff

[ibuprofein]

ony accidentally being mean to reader causing her to cry nsfw

TOO SHORT

𐙚!!── possessive ony and his girlfriend

⤷ ❝ {cw: nsfw mentioned, possessive! ony, dirty talk, oral (fem rec), fingering, creampie, angry sex?} ¡! ❞

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

“go change.”

“go where?”

onyankopon didn’t even blink. arms crossed, shoulder against the doorframe, eyes locked on the fur skirt like it owed him money. “you know where. the closet. pick sum’ else.”

“i did pick something else.” you turned back to the mirror, pressing your lips together to set the gloss. “i picked this.”

“pick again.”

“i’m good, thanks.”

“you not leaving in that.”

“watch me.”

his jaw shifted. “i am watching you. that’s the problem. i can see everything and i’m your boyfriend.”

“congratulations.” you clicked the cap back on your gloss and dropped it in your bag. “you have eyes.”

“so does every other man on the street.” his voice sharpened. “that the point? you want them looking?”

you turned around slowly. “excuse me?”

he held your gaze. didn’t repeat himself. didn’t have to.

“are you serious right now?” your voice dropped. “you’re really standing there implying–”

“i’m not implying anything. i’m asking.”

“because normal people with normal boyfriends don’t get asked that.” you laughed, short and humorless. “they get told they look nice and they leave.”

“normal boyfriends don’t have to watch their girl walk out looking like a–” he stopped.

the room temperature felt like it had dropped ten degrees.

“looking like a what?” you asked slowly.

he pressed his lips together and looked away briefly but the damage was already hanging in the air between you.

“don’t.” you hated how your voice wobbled on just that one word. “don’t you ever finish that sentence.”

“i wasn’t going to.”

“you were thinking it.”

“i’m thinking a lot of things right now.” he pushed off the doorframe and stepped in, and his voice had gone cold in a way it almost never did with you. “i’m thinking that you’ve got an attitude over a skirt. i’m thinking that you’re so busy being defensive that you won’t hear me say i don’t want strangers looking at what’s mine–”

“i’m not yours–”

“you know what i meant–”

“no, say what you mean, ony, since you’re saying everything else tonight–”

“i mean–” he exhaled hard through his nose. “i mean you look like you’re trying to prove something and i don’t know who you proving it to, but it’s not–”

“i got dressed for me.” your throat tightened without permission. “i got dressed because i wanted to feel good. that’s it. that’s the whole reason. and you–” you gestured at him, at the entire situation. “you standing there making it into something weird and i didn’t do anything–”

“i didn’t say you did–”

“you implied it!” your voice cracked and you hated it. “you literally stopped yourself mid sentence because of what you almost called me–”

“i didn’t call you anything.”

“you wanted to.”

he looked at you in silence. really looked, and something in his expression shifted when he registered the gloss in your eyes, the way your jaw was working to hold everything back.

but he didn’t say sorry because he was too stubborn.

“change the skirt,” he said quietly. “and then we can talk.”

“no.” the first tear spilled over and you turned away fast, grabbing your bag and plopping on the bed, voice furious. “we can talk when you figure out the difference between protecting me and insulting me.”

he didn’t move from the doorway and you didn’t move from the bed as the silence stretched like a live wire between you.

onyankopon’s shoulders rose and fell in stress but his eyes were anything but. they dragged down your body— over the tight crop top, the gloss still shining on your lips, and especially the skirt that had started this whole argument as the muscle in his jaw flexed again.

you swiped at the tear that had escaped, furious at yourself for letting it fall. “move,” you muttered while standing and stepping toward the door.

he didn’t move but instead he reached out, large hand wrapping around your wrist, firm enough to stop you. his thumb brushed the inside of your wrist, right over your racing pulse.

“don’t,” he said, voice low and rough. “don’t walk out like this.”

you laughed, bitter. “like what? dressed like a slut?”

his grip tightened for half a second then loosened. “i didn’t say that.”

“you were gonna.”

he exhaled through his nose, then did the last thing you expected. he tugged you forward until your chest bumped his as one big hand slid to the small of your back, holding you there. the other came up to cup your jaw, thumb wiping the tear track off your cheek with a gentleness that made your stomach flip.

“i’m an asshole,” he admitted, so quiet it almost didn’t sound like him. “i saw you in that skirt and all i could think about was every other nigga in the club staring at what’s mine. not ‘cause you did anything wrong. ‘cause i’m selfish as fuck when it comes to you.”

your breath hitched. “that’s not–”

“i know.” his forehead dropped to yours. “i know it ain’t fair. you look… goddamn, baby. you look good enough to make me lose my mind. that’s the problem.”

the anger in your chest cracked, heat flooding in to replace it. you hated how fast your body reacted to him— his scent, the solid wall of his chest, the way his fingers were already slipping under the hem of your tiny fur skirt like he couldn’t help himself.

“then stop trying to control me,” you whispered but your hands were already fisting in his shirt.

“i’m not.” his lips brushed your temple, then your cheek, then hovered right over your mouth. “i’m asking you to let me take care of you. right now.”

you opened your mouth to argue again and he kisses you, swallowing the last of your protest. his tongue pushing past your lips like he was trying to erase the whole fight. you moaned into it, involuntary, and he used the sound against you, backing you up until your thighs hit the edge of the bed.

he broke the kiss only to drop to his knees.

“ony–”

“shh.” his palms slid up the backs of your thighs, pushing the skirt higher until it bunched around your waist. he pressed an open mouthed kiss to the front of your lace panties, eyes flicking up to yours. “this what you wanted to wear? then let me see it properly.”

he hooked his fingers in the waistband and dragged the panties down your legs, letting the fabric catch on your skin. the second they hit the floor he buried his face between your thighs, tongue dragging up your slit in one filthy stroke.

your knees buckle as he catches you, hands gripping your ass, and lifted one of your legs over his shoulder so he could eat you like a man who’d been starving for it. no teasing, just greedy slurps, sucking your clit into his mouth until your head falls back and a broken moan tears out of you.

“fuck- onyyy”

he groaned against you, the vibration shooting straight to your core. two thick fingers pushed inside without warning, curling hard against that spot that made your mouth gape open. he pumped them in and out, tongue flicking relentlessly, while the hand on your ass kept you pinned to his mouth.

you came embarrassingly fast, legs shaking, thighs clamping around his head, and a choked cry ripping from your throat as pleasure slammed through you like a freight train.

he didn’t stop until you were whimpering, oversensitive and twitching. only then did he pull back, lips shiny, And eyes wild. he stood, towering over you, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand like it was nothing.

“still mad?” he asked while rubbing the leg that was just shaking over his shoulder.

you could barely speak as you just grab his shirt and yank him down into another kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue. he growled, lifting you clean off the floor and tossing you onto the bed.

clothes came off in a blur, his shirt, your top, and the skirt finally shoved up around your waist because he refused to take it off. “keep it on,” he muttered against your neck, teeth grazing your pulse. “you wanted to wear it? then you’re wearing it while i fuck you.”

he freed himself from his jeans, thick and heavy and already leaking. one hand wrapped around your thigh, spreading you open. the head of his cock nudged your entrance, slick from your orgasm, and he pushed in slowly at first, letting you feel every inch stretch you open.

“shit,” he hissed, forehead pressed to yours. “so fucking tight. always so fucking tight for me.”

you arched, nails digging into his back as he bottomed out. the skirt was bunched uselessly at your hips, the fur rubbing against your skin with every thrust. he set a punishing rhythm, each snap of his hips driving the breath out of you.

“mine,” he growled against your ear, hand sliding up to wrap lightly around your throat, not squeezing, just holding. “this pussy? mine. this body? mine. you wear whatever the fuck you want, but when you come home, this–” he slammed in harder, making you cry out. “–pussy is what i get. understand?”

you nodded frantically, tears of a completely different kind pricking your eyes from how good it felt.

“say it.”

“it’s yours– fuck– pa. it’s your pussy!”

he rewarded you by dropping his hand between you, thumb circling your clit in perfect strokes. your second orgasm crashed into you without warning, walls fluttering around him, pulling him deeper.

he cursed, hips stuttering. “that’s it, mama. milk me. let me fill you up.”

three more brutal thrusts and he buried himself to the hilt, groaning your name as he came in thick pulses that spilled deep inside you until you were dripping with it.

for a long moment the only sound was both of you breathing hard.

then he collapsed half on top of you, careful not to crush you, and pressed a soft kiss to your sweaty temple.

“i’m sorry,” he murmured, voice hoarse. “for real. i was out of line.”

you swallowed, throat raw, and rubbing your fingers on his freshly cute fade. “you’re still an asshole.”

he huffed a tired laugh. “yeah but i’m your asshole.”

you smiled despite yourself, legs still tangled with his, and his cock still softening inside you.

“next time,” you whispered, “just tell me i look good before you lose your mind.”

he kissed the corner of your mouth, slow and sweet.

“deal. but baby?” his hand smoothed down your side, possessive even now. “you still ain’t leaving the house in that skirt tonight.”

you laughed, exhausted and stupidly in love.

“fine…..but only because you earned it.”

[atinystaypixie]

I’m legit so tired of bitches complaining about black!reader. Tfym all black!reader does is party, smoke, and strip? So many fics of black!reader being a scholar, a bimbo, ex-wife, wifey, wifey to girlfriend, girlfriend to ex girlfriend, tutor, needing a tutor, a baker- i mean the list goes on AND THESE ARE ALL FICS THAT HAVE RECENTLY BEEN RELEASED! Mind you these types of fics have also been released on black!reader tumblr for YEARS! I’ve been on this account for a few years now and black!reader is never just some random ignorant, ass shaking bitch. Even when shaking ass, all of these girlies put in so much work to give her personality, a backstory, and emotions. Not only have I seen one black fic writer write a range of black!reader, I’ve seen MULTIPLE black writers on here write a range of black!reader. It’s not just a matter of you not finding the right account, it’s a matter of you just ignoring the damn fics and not looking for them. DONT GET ME STARTED ON THE FUCKING SINNERS FICS BECAUSE HAVE YOU SEEN WHAT BLACK WRITERS HAVE DONE FOR BLACK!READER WITH SMOKE AND STACK?! Yea stop playing these girlies like that aint put hella time, energy, and thought into these fucking works that they do FOR FREE! Even if they want to only write black!reader as “ghetto” and as someone who shakes ass THEY HAVE EVERY FUCKING RIGHT TO DO WHAT THEY FUCK THEY WANT! If you want something different WRITE IT YOUR FUCKING SELF! Everyone does this shit for FREE and for the damn love of the game. Black women can’t even create in peace without random bitches getting on their ass? Can Black women please just be left the fuck alone ESPECIALLY by their OWN FUCKING PEOPLE?! Damn yall pmo.

To every Black fic writer out there that’s creating for us to enjoy, please continue unapologetically. Please let black!reader shake ass, get degrees, get married, have kids, get divorced. I’ve seen too many black writers leave this platform and deal with constant harassment and negativity. I love you and all of us who are enjoying yout content loves you too!

[mrsicy]

im a young ho, you won’t catch me on here complaining about ‘x black!reader’ smut… GIVE ME THAT SHIT AND THEN SOME

[rumisgf]

rabbid !

college!au denki lives in my head rent free sorry

your boyfriend has the sex drive of a prime ape.

you would think him not being the most built out of all his friends would mean he has the least stamina… but boy are you wrong. kaminari can go round after round, even after he’s already came. he doesn’t feel the need to stop until there’s tears in his eyes— although sometimes, that might just turn him on even more.

and don’t be fooled, he’s the sweetest boyfriend you’ve ever had. so the only time he makes you cry? when you’re under him.

"k-kami~..! *hiccup* c-can’t take it~..!" you cry, the sound of your weeping cunt and his hips rhythmically slamming against your ass filling the room.

"said you missed me.. right baby? shitt, so fuckin’ wet.. said you missed my dick, right?"

you had to go a whole week without seeing him due to you both agreeing (more so, you insisting and him whining about it until giving in) to focus on school until the weekend since you both had exams coming up. so as soon as he got you alone, your poor self stood no chance.

"p-pleasee~..! ‘s t-too muchh~..!"

"aww, don’t cry, baby.. i got you.."

he only fucks you harder, his hand gripping your plush asscheek as try to run away. your hand comes back to weakly grab onto something— or at least plead for mercy, and his hand finds yours in a second. you don’t even know which orgasm you’re about to be on at this point… maybe your 5th?

"hold my hand.. hold my hand. yeah, stay still.. takee that shit baby, mhmm.."

all the whining and crying goes out the window when he brings you to another blissful orgasm, his dick bullying your gspot in the best way possible.

"’m cumming babyy~.. oo fuckk~!"

"fuckk that’s a good girl.. gonna make me nut in that pussy.."

xoxo, rumisgf

[mtcloudsworld]

𝐶𝑎𝑛'𝑡 𝐺𝑒𝑡 𝐸𝑛𝑜𝑢𝑔𝘩

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : wc: 569 ! + 18 mdni, cowgirl

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 : @kimmylikesthemall @shootingstar112 @jellywrites1218 @amethyst09 @snore-3 @aizawash0e @h3avenlyglory

"F-fuck, keep going..."

Three rounds in, and your movements had slowed to a passionate drag. You were riding him at a sweet, steady pace; your body was screaming for a break, but out of a mix of stubbornness and raw submission, you refused to listen. Instead, you focused on the friction, savoring every inch of him as he slid into you with practiced ease.

​It was an addiction you couldn’t shake. From the constant, slick heat between your thighs to the wet, rhythmic squelch of every downward press, you were losing itー You wailed, your voice cracking into a moan as your nails dug deep into the sheets. He begged for you to keep goingー despite shaking like a fucking leaf.

Head rolled back in ecstasy. Mouth gaped open to his dick thrusting deep inside you, a yearning whimper escapes you when his mushroom tip hits your g-spot. Sensing your body was finally reaching its limit—the way you leaned into him in a silent plea for help—he took the reins. Pressing a chaste, lingering kiss to your lips, he whispered, "I got you, baby."

​With a shift of his weight, his muscular arms circled you, pulling you flush against his chest. His calloused hands moved to your ass, fingers digging in and spreading the cheeks wide to watch his own cock piston inside you. It was sloppy, desperate, and exhilarating. His hips began to rut in a rhythmic, rapid motion—the sound of skin smacking skin and the aggressive fervor of his thrusts leaving you completely stupidified. Your eyes rolled back, a thin trail of saliva escaping your lip as the raunchy sounds of the act filled the room.

He let out a low, breathy chuckle against your neck. "Such a good girl for me, aren't you? Just taking it all. You love when I fuck you like this, don't you? You love feeling me balls-deep in that pretty pussy, hm?"

Your wetness coated him like paint, trailing down your thighs to dampen the sheets. You were near the end of your rope, eyes fluttering shut as your muscles went slack, allowing him to use you like a ragdoll. "Y-yes..." you moaned weakly, "I love it... I love it s-so... much!”

​He watched the pleasure contour your face, your expression beautifully wrecked as you withered in his hold. His large, veiny hands palmed your heat, nails marking your bronze skin as he stretched you to your absolute limit. When you finally gasped out, "Oh god... m'bouta cum," he let out a guttural grunt. His jaw clenched, putting every ounce of his strength into those final, devastating strokes. His hips stuttered, demanding you to break first before he finally gave in, spurting his hot, heavy load deep against your walls.

​The room fell quiet, the air thick and heavy.

The only sounds remaining were the steady hum of the ceiling fan and the muffled roar of the sleepless city outside. Between ragged breaths, your lips collided in a sloppy, toe-curling kiss.

He didn’t pull out.

Instead, he began to move again with a slow, lazy grind, effectively fucking his cum back into you. You stayed pinned against him, his fingers drawing idle circles on the small of your back while his other hand rested heavy on your thigh. He lingered there, savoring the way your cunt pulsed and squeezed around him, drawing every last drop of fluid deeper into your heat.

©𝗺𝘁𝗰𝗹𝗼𝘂𝗱𝘀 ─ 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝖽. 𝖽𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗅, 𝖼𝗈𝗉𝗒, 𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗌𝗅𝖺𝗍𝖾 ─ 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡