Talk You through It
Author's Note: This one is a request. A request about Mr. YEET man's iconic moment at a meet and greet. Yall know... that "It'll fit. It'll fit..." Moment... Yeah... It still got me in the chokehold. Enjoy my babies... 😮💨
Warning:. PLEASE DNI IF YOU'RE A MINOR. THIS IS FOR THE 18+ CREW...
1.4K Words
READER|
"U up?" That was all it took. It always was. Didn't even need to send him the name of the hotel. He already knew where I was– where I always stayed when I came through Atlanta.
I been calling him like this for months. Sometimes after a night out, sometimes fresh out the shower, still dripping , towel wrapped around my curves he couldn’t stay away from. And like always…
He came.
By the time I opened the door, he was already halfway out his hoodie. His duffle slung over one shoulder, lips curled into that knowing dangerous smirk. His golds glinted under the low hallway lighting as his eyes moved up and down my frame.
Black Silk robe, tied loose. One tug away from exposing everything he really came for.
Leaning against the doorframes, eyeing him up like I wasn't already throbbing for what was under those Nike tech sweats.
"That was fast."
"I don't waste time when I know what's waitin' on me," he muttered, stepping inside without hesitation. "You call me, I pull up. You know that, mama."
I licked my lips, "You stay too ready." As he made his way over to the chair in the corner, I closed the door behind ne and locked it.
"Nah," He said, while dropping his bag in the chair and slowly turning back towards me. Eyes fixed on mine like they were magnetic. "You the one that stay ready."
The first kiss was greedy. His hand was around my throat instantly–not choking just holding. Just...letting me feel the dominance of his touch. Letting me know what this was, what it always been.
Jey kissed like he knew exactlu what buttons to press. His tongue was slow, warm, thick, purposeful. Like he was easing me into the storm he brought with him everytime. My fingers tugged at the hem of his tank while his mouth found the side of my neck, leaving heat, spit and teeth behind. "I been fiendin'," he murmured, voice gravelly. "You always hit me when I'm already thinkin' bout you."
Moaning against him as he reached down to grab the back of my thigh and hoist you up like nothing. I wrapped my legs around his waist, robe falling open just enough to make him groan in approval.
He set me down on the edge of the bed, and I watched as he peeled off his tank. Tattoos glistening, gold cuban swinging. That signature mullet wild and curly like he'd been running his hands through it thinking about this exact moment.
"You just gon' keep starin or–"
He dropped his sweats. And...
There it was. Thick. Heavy. Ready.
I couldn't help but swallow the deep breath I was holding in.
He noticed, and smirked.
"Ain't nothin' new, baby," he whispered while fisting himself slowly as he walked closer to you. "You know it'll fit." I shook my head, heat crawling up my chest. "Don't start that shit, Jey."
He smirked wider. Sinister.
Before I could blink, I was on my stomach. Robe thrown across the room, ass arched, cheek against the sheets and body trembling as he pressed the tip against my soaked folds. His hand slid up my spine, soft palm flat between my shoulder blades.
He bent low, lips grazing the shell of my ear. "Deep breath, ma." As soon as I inhaled and exhaled– shakily. He didn't wait. Pushing in, slow. Thick inch by inch, groaning deep from his chest as my walls clenched around him. "Fuuuuck," he hissed. "Tight as fuck."
I couldn't help but cry out, as I gripped the sheets. "Shi– Jey –slow–" He paused halfway in, grinning so wide, I could hear it in his voice. "Told you, mama." Thrust. "It'll fit." Thrust. "It'll fit...It always do." Deeper thrust. "Don't run now..."
Once he bottomed out, he stayed still. Letting me feel every inch, every vein, every hard twutch of him buried deep.
Lowly whining from him being too still and still trying to adjust. "I can't–"
"You takin' all this dick just fine, mama," he whispered, hips rolling slow, deep and punishing. "Been fuckin' on me for how long? Don't act brand new on me now."
The only reply he got from me was a broken moan, back arching and my ass pushing into him greedily as he started to really move. Strokes were nasty. Wet. Slow drag out, heavy thrust back in. The kind of rhythm that broke girls down. That changed the way you walked and talked. And he talked you through every second of it. "Breathe, baby."
"Don't clench so hard–fuck. You finna make m–"
"Yeah, like that." "Good fuckin' girl."
"Look all this ass bouncin' back on me..."
My orgasm crept up too fast. It always did with him. My moans were louder–ragged, desperate, full of pressure I couldn't hold. But he knew.
His hand found the back of my neck, gripping just enough to make my eyes flutter. "Go 'head mama, cum," he whispered, fucking me deeper. "I–I ca–can't–"
"You can." "You will." "Let me feel it, baby." "Give it to me."
I broke. Shaking, moaning loudly into the mattress. Entire body locking as I came hard around him. He hissed a Samoan curse through his teeth as my walls squeezed the life out of him.
When he pulled out, I was damn near limp when he flipped me onto my back. He licked his lips, as his chest heaved, chain now sticking to his tan skin. "You good?"
Nodding weakly, dazed and glowing. He leaned down and kissed my forehead. "Got one more in you?"
I blinked up at him, still panting, skin hot, nerves fried. My legs twitched involuntarily, and I couldn’t stop the smile crawling across my lips.
“You askin’ like you ain’t already know,” I whispered.
His grin spread slow. Wide. Sinful.
“Bet.”
Jey sat back on his heels, stroking his dick lazily—slick with both our mess, thick veins bulging in his hand. Watching me. The way my chest rose and fell. The way my thighs trembled. The way I kept shifting like I didn’t want him to slide back in… even though my body was begging for it.
"Open those legs for me."
I did.
He moved between them, hooked one of my knees over his shoulder, the other bent back as he guided himself back in—easy this time. But even “easy” had me gasping.
“Still tight,” he rasped, eyes dark and low-lidded. “Still tryna push me out, huh?”
I whimpered, biting my lip, hand sliding down to brace against his stomach.
"Jey—fuck—you're so—"
"I know."
He bottomed out in one stroke and didn’t move. Just let it sit. Deep. Filling me all the way up. My toes curled, body stretching around him like it hadn’t just taken everything he had less than five minutes ago.
He leaned forward, forearm braced beside my head, forehead touching mine.
His voice dropped.
"Look at me."
I did.
“I want this one slow. I want you to feel every stroke. Every inch. Every word I say.”
I nodded weakly, already whimpering as he rolled his hips.
He started slow, deep, rhythmic—like his strokes had a melody only he could hear. Like my body was the beat. Skin slapped against skin, sweat beading along his brow, the chain around his neck swinging lazily between our bodies.
"That's it," he whispered, dragging out every syllable like a song. "You feel that, mama?"
"Y-yeah..."
He kissed me. Deep. Possessive.
“Good.”
His strokes got heavier. Slower. Deeper.
The kind of deep that made your back lift off the bed, your voice catch in your throat, your soul leave your damn body for a second.
“You know this ain’t just dick, right?” he muttered, biting your jaw. “This me. Every time. All mine. You know that, right?”
“Yes—”
"Say it."
"It’s yours," I cried. “Shit, it’s yours, baby—”
He groaned, snapping his hips harder now, hand sliding under my lower back to hold me in place.
“You ain’t goin’ nowhere. I got you.”
I was close again. My legs shook like they were trying to run. My nails dug into his back. I could barely breathe.
“Jey—baby I’m—”
He kissed my temple, sweat dripping onto my shoulder.
“Cum wit’ me. Don’t run. Look at me—don’t run.”
That last stroke? Too much. It unlocked something.
I shattered.
Loud, long, obscene moan slipping from my lips as my legs locked around him. I came—hard. Harder than before. Vision white-hot. My nails dug into his back, my walls clenching him so tight, so perfectly, he damn near collapsed.
“Fuuuck—baby—fuck—”
He spilled inside me, thick and warm, pulsing through every spasm I had left to give him. And still, he didn’t stop. Still kissed me through it. Still held me like we had all night.
We laid there, stuck together, catching our breath. His hand rested just above my navel. His other slid behind my neck to keep me close.
“Still fit,” he whispered, lips brushing my cheek.
I chuckled weakly. “Barely.”
He laughed low, wrapping his arms around me tighter.
“Bet you gon’ call again next weekend.”
And I would. Every time. Because when it came to Jey?
It always fit.
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