hello! my name is mooji, and this is my writing gallery! 💭
i am a retired ao3 writer of several fandoms, but now i mostly write for aot and tokyo rev! everything that i write is a piece of myself, and i hope there is something here for you to enjoy. 🫧
desperately want to get back into writing but it's so... hard rn. i have never been so unmotivated with so many ideas still bouncing around in my noggin.
— farmer!onyankopon x reader x farmer!connie springer 🎃
“my god, son! you sure this is y’all’s first time?”
you watched with a full heart as connie grinned at the old farmer with pride. ever since onyankopon inherited his father’s farm 3 years ago, you and connie had been elbows deep in the garden you grew together. you guys grew plenty of vegetables for yourself, even having enough during the summer months to open up your own stand at the neighborhood farmer’s market, this was y’all’s first time ever entering into a competition.
the county fair was in town, and connie had spent the last few months prior nurturing and caring for, of all things, a pumpkin. and boy was that his baby. so many summer nights had been spent outside, your legs being destroyed by mosquitoes, helping connie as he covered his precious orange plant child in blankets to protect it from frost and lurking insects.
at first, ony thought this whole pumpkin thing was a little bit silly. everytime he needed help with the animals and other dealings on the farm, he could always find you and connie dirtied up in the garden somewhere. despite his slight annoyance, he had to admit that the pumpkin his boyfriend managed to grow was truly amazing. after the three of you struggled to get it into the back of his truck, ony thought that connie may even have a shot at winning a prize.
so now here you were; chatting with the fairgoers who came by to admire your pumpkin as you waited for the judges to pass out the ribbons. ony had wandered off further into the small fair a little while ago; most likely going to speak to the other farmer’s attending. you opted to stay with connie, but it had been more than a few hours, and you were starting to get a little hungry. connie had told you that you could go explore the fair if you’d like, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to leave your proud and excited boyfriend alone.
“this thing’s gotta be at least 300lbs!” eren, a ranch hand from the large horse ranch down the road, muttered in amazement. “ain’t no way y’all ain’t gonna win.”
“i ain’t really worried about all that winning stuff,” connie chuckled, waving his hand in dismissal. “this was just something fun to do with my partners.”
your heart managed to swell a bit more, watching as eren teased connie a bit, before the latter placed him into a playful head lock.
“what y’all gonna do with this beauty when y’all go home?” a dairy farmer, reiner, asked as he knocked gently on the pumpkin with the back of his knuckle.
“well,” connie started, grinning over at you before wrapping you in his arm and pulling you to his side. “this beauty is gonna make us some pumpkin pie. ain’t that right, baby?”
“mhmm, you mumbled as you lifted out of connie’s side to raise an eyebrow at him. “and who exactly is gonna be cleaning this pumpkin? you see she’s a little larger than most.”
“man, c’mon,” connie whined, rolling his eyes sarcastically. “you know me and ony will get out there and clean it for you, mama.”
“i don’t remember saying nothing bout cleaning no pumpkins tonight,” ony grumbled, finally returning from wherever he had been with some plates and two cups of lemonade. “got y’all something to eat. i don’t see how sweet thing here hasn’t passed out yet. it’s way past your lunchtime.”
“oh my god, thank you baby,” you sighed, quickly snatching a plate and a lemonade from your boyfriend’s hands. ony only shook his head before handing connie his food.
you spent the next 30 minutes devouring the barbeque plate than ony had brought you while the boys continued chatting with the people behind you. the county you lived in was so small that most of the people you talked to today were your neighbors. granted, the term “neighbors” could be taken pretty lightly considering that the closest house was about half a mile away.
the group of y’all were in the middle of talking about winter preparations when a small older woman walked up with a clipboard in her hands.
“excuse me. good evening, y’all,” she greeted, smiling in a way only a sweet grandma could do. “which one of you boys is connie springer?”
connie stepped forward, tilting his head in a greeting. “that’s me, ma’am.”
“lovely,” she nodded as she unclipped something from her clipboard. “this is a lovely pumpkin you got here. you been doing this for a while?”
“no ma’am. this summer was my first time ever trying my hand at something like this,” connie chuckled, a bit nervous.
“is that so?” the lady asked before looking up at connie with a kind expression. “well, that makes me all the more happy to present you with this.”
the lady slid a large blue ribbing from behind her clipboard before handing it to connie.
“congratulations, young man. with a pumpkin weighing in at 357lbs, you are the first place winner for this year’s pumpkin competition.”
connie graciously took the ribbon from the woman’s hands, nodding and thanking her profusely all the while. you watched with teary eyes as your small group of friends shouted their congrats and slapped your boyfriend on his back. you were just so proud! this was just an activity you and connie jumped into without really thinking. and now look at him!
“good job, baby boy!” ony grinned, pulling his still choked up partner into his chest and placing a fat kiss on his forehead. “so proud of you.”
coming out of your emotions, you were finally able to run up and wrap connie in a tight hug, showering him in kisses, congratulations, and even agreeing to (maybe) make him that pumpkin pie.
this is fluff! no smut, just a lil meetcute 🩷 i been seeing a lot of HBCU marching bands on tiktok and... yeah 😅
There he was, prancing to the center of the football field like a rambunctious, rogueish stallion. The marching band stands alert and proud as Onyankopon gallops to the field, the Majorettes poised in the bleachers with their glittering, form fitting costumes.
Drumroll.
Onyankopon begins his performance, dancing salaciously with his gold and blue rhinestone baton. Those gyrating hips, rolling abs, and flexible, limber legs easily captivate the crowd, sending them into a frenzy before he could even finish his little show.
Finally, he places both hands at the top of his baton and firmly plants it into the turf, right between his large, bulky thighs. He twists his body to the left, moving the baton in the same direction, and giving a suggestive thrust of his hips, his whistle sounding when his groin meets with the baton. Then, he repeats the motion to the opposite direction, rolling those powerful hips, punctuating them with a voracious thrust and sounding his whistle upon impact.
The crowd erupts with cheers and whistles and catcalls, just hootin' and hollerin' at Onyankopon's sensual performance. He always had this kind of effect on his crowd. When he enters the room, you feel it. When he talks, you feel it. When he moves, you can feel it. Commanding a crowd was nothing for him, not even an ounce of stage fright behind those eyes. Charismatic doesn't even begin to describe the way he works his crowd.
He takes his whistle in between his lips and blows 3 times, queuing the band to begin their show. The marching band plays for what feels like hours: What You Know by Paul Wall, Grillz by Nelly, One In A Million by Aaliyah, hit after hit after hit, Onyankopon allows the marching band to take him with their music. The Majorettes are just as energetic too, swaying your hips and posing and moving your bodies right along with him. There's no halftime show like Onyankopon's Show.
When the game is over, you and all the other Majorettes decide to get all dolled up and show up at the afterparty. Your baby blue dress clings to your waist, hugging your curves and complimenting your complexion, long goddess braids down your back with golden clips glistening under the strobe lights.
"You looked good out there."
Your hair whips around as you turn to find the source of the compliment: Your Drum Major. It's Onyankon.
Girl, he's even sexier up close. That dark brown, sunblessed skin just does something to you. He's so handsome in his lil outfit too, dark maroon button down with black floral accents, gold rings, and a gold grill. His button down isn't really buttoned at all, showing his chest and abs and the tattoos on them.
"Boy stop, you know we just feed off your energy," you chirp, desperately trying to avoid staring at his exposed chest for too long.
He tries to do the same, hyperfocused on your lips to keep from staring down at your perfectly lotioned and perfumed boobs.
"I'm tryna get a feel for your energy this time," he muses, voice deep and drenched in honey. A smile spreads its way across Onyankopon's lips as he watches your reaction, loving the way your eyes light up with mischief. "I knew I felt somebody staring at me earlier."
"What, you mean the whole stadium? The spotlight ain't big enough for both of us." Your laughter is contagious, cute and kind of loud. "What you tryna say, Major? I'm in your way or something? Somebody sound jealous."
This time, it's Onyankopon's turn to laugh, the sound of his deep chested chuckled makes your heart flutter. "You cute. Keep doing yo thang, girl." With that, he disappears into the crowded dance floor, leaving you speechless.
↳ ❝ [you don’t need titles, you just need ony.] ¡! ❞
tags: mention of drugs, ony being fine af!, macbookie photobooth pictures.
↳ 𝑰𝑰
𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
The bass was thumping somewhere downstairs in the sorority house, probably Sasha throwing a pregame before her late-night Taco Bell run. You were curled up on the couch near the window in your room, fuzzy socks pulled up halfway to your calves, your thighs bare beneath a pair of tiny pajama shorts. Your black fitted tank top hugged you just right, cropped just enough to flash skin when you moved.
A car horn honked once outside.
You leaned over the window sill and spotted Onyankopon’s sleek black Mercedes idling by the curb. You didn’t need to see him to know he’d just come straight from the gym—his Dri-FIT shirt would be clinging to his chest, his skin warm and a little salty, his gold chain bouncing with every step he took. You grabbed your laptop and your hoodie, slipped into his oversized slides, and padded out the door.
By the time you reached his frat house, the sun was low behind the trees, throwing shadows across the campus green. Ony’s room smelled like faint weed smoke, expensive cologne, and laundry detergent. He tossed his gym bag into a corner and flopped back onto his bed, shirtless now, tattoos peeking out across his chest and shoulders, one hand running down the front of his sweats.
“You took forever,” he mumbled, dragging a hand over his face, grillz flashing when he grinned.
“You texted me two minutes ago,” you smirked, dropping your laptop on his bed and curling up beside him, your silk press swaying with the movement. Your cat lashes fluttered as you blinked up at him, teeth gems sparkling when you bit your glossed lip.
He lit the blunt while you pulled up Photo Booth. The MacBook’s camera pinged to life, casting a cool white glow over the both of you. You leaned into Ony’s shoulder, your bare leg draped over his lap, and hit record.
“Say hey,” you whispered, turning your face toward him.
He blew a cloud of smoke at the camera, lips curled into a lazy smirk. “Y’all know who it is.”
You giggled, leaning in closer. Your gloss left a faint mark on the blunt when he passed it to you.
The video kept rolling. You kissed his cheek, then his lips—once, then again, longer. He hummed against your mouth, one hand sliding under your thigh.
“Don’t get shy now,” you teased, breaking away with a grin, your voice airy, floaty from the smoke.
“I’m not,” he said, still staring at you like you were the only thing in the room. “You just cute as hell when you tryna act cool.”
You made a face at him, giggling as you held up the laptop to take a selfie. The flash popped. Ony threw up a peace sign with his ringed fingers, grillz flashing again. His other hand was still on you.
The situationship was blurry, undefined—but in that moment, with your legs tangled and his scent in your hair and your laugh in his ears, it felt like maybe that wasn’t a bad thing at all.
1.4k words: connie springer x reader, mixed!connie springer, black!reader, light angst, hurt/comfort, arguments, foul language, mentions of violence, neglectful partners, past relationships, jealous exes, pet names (ma, mama, baby, pretty girl), not really proof read
notes: hiiii! sorry that this took so long, but i finally got a laptop! it actually sucks ass, but i can write much faster on here! i lost a bit of motivation, but i know that i definitely want to write more sigma!connie and alpha!ony, so expect to see more of them! this fic doesn't have much to do with greek life, but i just wanted to note that this is part of the sigma!connie series anyway :)
“you can't keep getting into fights, connie baby.”
your boyfriend didn't respond, choosing to look out the window at the passing city as you drove him back to campus. the lights of the town shown gently on connie’s face, letting you catch slight glimpses of the bruises plaguing his beautiful cream skin. you sighed, turning your attention back towards the road.
your heart had nearly fallen into your stomach when connie called you from the police station, softly asking you to pick him up. it made you sick to see him hurt, and it didn’t help that he was being so nonchalant about it.
“they're not gonna keep giving you breaks forever, you know,” you started again, ignoring the way connie sucked in a breath next to you. “your frat brothers can only do so much. hell, i can only do so much-”
“well what am i supposed to do, ______? just let that asshole keep messing with you?” connie snapped. he was frustrated. beyond frustrated, and you'd be stupid not to know it. “he keeps playing in my fucking face.”
<3
when you got accepted into your university, you were so excited to just escape. leaving your old friends, unbearable family, and past mistakes behind. it was a new chapter in your life, and the last thing you expected was for an old character to make a reappearance.
your ex-boyfriend, aran, had followed you out of state to your university. apparently, he had been accepted on an academic scholarship, but that was very hard to believe. there was no room for anything besides high praises for himself in that brain, let alone any academic knowledge. the boy was arrogant, narcissistic, even.
looking back, the only reason you got involved with him was to maintain the high-standard image you had worked so hard to portray in high school. he was rich, and so were you. you were stunning, and he was beautiful. popular, wanted, and adored. a match pulled straight out of a high school novel.
but behind the scenes, aran was mean. at first, you believed you could learn to love him; making him lunches and dropping them off at his homeroom class, showing up to support him in any activities he decided to participate in, and even going on halfass dates with him outside of school, which usually only ended up with him heading home with a new girl’s number in his phone. it was hell dating aran, and you were so glad to leave the part of you that was ever involved with him behind.
but now he was here, tainting your new (genuine this time) picture-perfect life. everywhere you went on campus, he was there. hollering at you in the courtyard, standing behind you in the cafe, hell, even showing up to your dorm room at the ass crack of dawn. despite all of this, you ignored him. you were determined to continue revelling in the comfort you had built around you. you had new friends, new goals, new ideals, and a new and very loving boyfriend. you weren’t the selfish, inconsiderate bitch that you were in highschool anymore. you had things that you cared for, and aran was not a part of that.
it didn’t take long for aran to realize this either. and while it wasn’t as easy to break you down, it was almost comical how simple it was to get under connie’s skin; and he knew that your precious connie baby is what mattered the most.
it started harmless enough. minor taunts everytime aran caught glimpses of connie around campus, as well as the occassional shade thrown toward him on instagram or snapchat. during this stage, connie was much slower to anger, and you miraculously managed to keep him from doing anything he’d regret. you’d convinced him that the sigmas and you mattered more, and connie held onto that notion deeply.
but aran was nothing if not persistent. he began making passes at you in connie’s presense, even going as far as to slap your ass when he walked past the two of you. that was when connie’s resolve began to slip.
<3
now you were here, driving a slightly battered and bruised connie back home. you hadn’t even been present to know what went down. you were hanging out peacefully in your dorm, helping your roommate get herself together after a night out when connie called.
“what even happened, connie?” you asked, glancing over once more to see him still staring out the window. “whatever it was, i’m sure putting your hands on him wasn’t the solution.”
connie was quiet for a moment, but he sure as hell knew better than to ignore you. he scoffed before turning back to you, staring daggers as if you were the one in the wrong.
“why do you keep defending this boy?” he sneered.
your mouth gaped, honestly trying to grasp what the hell connie was talking about.
“connie, wha-”
“every fucking time me and him get into it, you always crying about ‘not putting my hands on him’ and ‘you don’t have to do allat.’ who’s side are you on, ? cause it sure as fuck don’t seem like mine. you still like that nigga or something?”
you whipped your head to look at connie, anger lacing your face. “are you fucking kidding me connie? you think i want him to keep bothering us? you think i want to see you stressing everytime aran is even mentioned? don’t talk fucking crazy to me.”
you weren’t even watching the road anymore, praying that your hand stayed steady and no one pulled out in front of you. “what? you think i’m not bothered by him too, connie? that nigga followed me here like some fucking stalker, and you think i’m okay with that? you think i like it? i don’t, but i sure as hell don’t like dragging my ass out of bed in the middle of the night, worried fucking sick, to come get your ass out of jail for fighting a mistake that i made several years ago.”
the car swerved slightly before your turned your attention back to the road, tears stinging at the back of your eyes.
“all of this ‘nagging’ and fussing i’ve been doing is for you. i don’t wanna see you lose the shit you care about because of me. i never thought i would see him again, connie. there was not a single ounce of love between us back then, and i promise you that there isn’t now,” you sniffed, scrubbing the tears off your bare face with your sleeve. “i’m sorry that he’s here. i didn’t know he would do any of this. he’s ruining everything that i worked so hard to get, bringing back the things i ran from and-”
“pull over.”
you sucked your teeth, looking over expecting to see a look of judgement, but there wasn’t. connie stared at you with soft, comforting eyes. you only ever saw them when you cried, whether you were stressed over an exam or distraught because your hair didn’t act right that day. connie has never judged you, so why would he start now?
“pull over, ma. it’s okay.”
you coughed nervously, pulling off the road into a Target parking lot close to campus. once you parked, you immediately felt connie’s arms wrap tightly around you. he gently pulled you over the seat into his lap, wiping the raw spots under your eyes with cold fingers.
“’m sorry for fighting, mama. ion wanna see you crying over this,” he started, using his other hand to rub soothing circles into your back. “i know i let my temper cloud my mind sometimes, but everybody knows i don’t play about my pretty girl.”
you looked away, trying to stifle your laugh.
“ahh there it is, look at them pretty lips,” connie grinned, pushing your face to look back at him. “i know that you’re mine, and you ain’t going nowhere. especially not for some nigga who wears skinny jeans.”
connie leaned forward, resting his face in the crook of your neck. “all i see is somebody bothering my girl, and i just don’t think. i didn’t know it was bothering you this much, baby. all my fighting and shit has been for you, but if that ain’t what you want, then it’s not gonna happen anymore.”
you nodded into his shoulder before pulling back and pressing a kiss onto connie’s forehead.
“thank you, connie baby.”
connie leaned up, quickly pressing a kiss into both of your cheeks.
“anything for you, ma.”
“…now if that nigga put his hands on you…”
“connie, please,” you scoffed before playfully nodding towards your purse. “he knows better.”
connie snorted before pulling you back in for a hug.
note: hello, i haven't written in so long because i have been busy....unfortunately playing various versions of cooking mama. so there's this!
eren:
— doesn't really understand the point of the game when you first introduced it to him. a game about cooking food that you can't eat? please
— he wasn't even surprised when he was bored playing the original cooking mama (he swears it was because it wasn't entertaining. not because he was bad at it)
— however, cooking mama: world kitchen was an entirely different story
— hey, things were on the line now! "friendly" competition with 9 year olds really shouldn't have been that fun, but here he was hogging up your wii u every chance he got
— what we are NOT finna do it get shown up by grade schoolers
— try as he might though, getting all golds was...a challenge
— he's still working on it to this day
connie:
— was already a cooking mama stan from DAY ONE
— oh and he doesn't play. he gets DOWN
— cook off, sweet shop, dinner with friends, bon appetit, he's played them all
— was slightly disappointed when he realized gardening mama was not a kid friendly game about weed
— cookstar is definitely his least favorite (granted, it's everybody's least favorite)
— he prefers the DS games since they're easier to carry around. ony and eren aren't even phased when connie whips out his game in the middle of their smoke sessions
— he's actually the one who convinced you to give the spinoff games a try (gardening mama is the only one worth playing, though)
ony:
— first gained interest in the franchise after you bought cooking mama: cookstar when it first released
— when you got it, you spent every second of your free time buried in the game, and he was just genuinely curious about your new interest
— it didn't take long for you to complete the entire game since it was much shorter than the other games, so you reset it and let ony have a try
— ony was mostly into first person shooter games, so this was way out of his usual comfort zone. he assumed it would be boring, but since you liked it so much, he'd give it a try
— never did he think he would find himself scouring the internet for a used DS just to play the older games 😭
— the first one he purchased was cooking mama: cook off, and he LOVED it
— the facade started to crack though when the others questioned why he wouldn't get on the game with them
— can't let the bros know he fucks with cooking mama 😞
sigma!connie who has been giving his brothers HELL ever since rush week
sigma!connie is always trying to bend the rules of the house; constantly seeing what he can get away with
sigma!connie who is surprisingly not a fan favorite amongst his college crowd, despite his extroverted personality
sigma!connie who only really rocks with his brothers, alpha!ony, eren (who refused to pledge to ANYONE), and you, of course!
sigma!connie first caught glimpses of you during rush week. you were pledging AKA, and you were beyond pretty enough to match their motif
however, after the first two days, he lost sight of you. you weren't at any of the events, and sigma!connie worried that you had gotten cut. that made his goal of meeting of you way harder now. you could be anywhere in the sea of thousands of college students, and he didn't even know your name!
after his probate, sigma!connie immediately began searching for you at every event and party; even stopping a couple of active AKA's in hopes of finding you
sigma!connie FINALLY saw you again in the campus bookstore of all places, and near damn tripped over his own feet trying to get to you
once he (very smoothly and nonchalantly, might i add) introduced himself, sigma!connie decided to ask what happened to you pledging. you explained to him that you realized it just wasn't your thing. too many restrictions for your liking
he could get that. sigma!connie was ALWAYS stressing his chapter advisors with his recklessness when it came to parties and performances
after the brief meeting in the bookstore, you and sigma!connie started to meet up every other day! he quickly learned that your poised, snobby demeanor was not just for show. you were spoiled and borderline rude. this, for some reason, did not deter him in the slightest
sigma!connie followed you around like a lost dog; helping carry your bags whenever you went shopping, adding his two cents in whenever you shared some campus gossip, and going out for drinks with you and your roommate (who was just as bad as you)
past your harsh and standoffish exterior, though, sigma!connie knew you were his. from the way you'd apologize to him whenever you said something particularly rude in his presence, to the way that you would buy him expensive accessories to go with his greek event outfits
you loved sigma!connie so much that you even started showing up to his performances! you weren't a fan of crowds, but you wouldn't dare miss seeing your connie up on that stage
sigma!connie was surprisingly good at stepping, and it didn't take long before he worked his way up to being in the front of the group during strolls and shows
sigma!connie who would drunkenly shout "LOOK AT MY HOT GIRLFRIEND!" at any given moment, and would be in genuine despair whenever he lost sight of you at a party (alpha!ony would wearily call you to "come get your damn puppy")
sigma!connie would only mellow out slightly (and i mean VERY slightly) when he was around you
sigma!connie's first gift to you was a royal blue and white michael kors purse. he was afraid you wouldn't like it since it was way below the price of your other purses, and you bursting out into tears didn't really ease his anxieties
so imagine his surpise when you enveloped him in a hug, sobbing about how sweet he was and how no one had ever gifted you something so nice 🥹 yeah, sigma!connie was all yours by the end of the fall semester 💙
oneshot: fem!reader, wlw, threesome, master/pet play, sensory deprivation (blindfold), humiliation (kind of), mommy kink, dacryphylia, overstimulation + edging (yes ma'am you get the best of both worlds), polyamorous relationship
notes: just a lil oneshot from a while back! originally, this was mikasa x reader x sasha, but i feel like annie fit just a bit more
"uh oh! looks like you'll have to start over."
from somewhere next to you, you could hear annie groan. with this being her fourth ruined orgasm, her frustration was understandable. giving mikasa free reign over the both of you for her birthday was turning out to be way more than you bargained for.
"now, now, annie. you know the rules. nobody can cum until i say so," mikasa chided, rubbing soothing circles into her girlfriend's thigh. "and until ______ learns to follow directions, we'll have to keep starting from the beginning."
annie could hear you let out what was akin to a sob. she couldn't blame you, though. while this was her fourth time being denied, this was your fourth time tipping over the edge. hell, did you even have anything left to give?
"come on now, ______, spread them," mikasa tutted, tapping the back of your thigh. your legs trembled as you struggled to lift them into the air.
"mommy, please, i can't. i-"
"awe, my love, i didn't ask what you can and can't do," mikasa cooed, faux sympathy lacing her tone. "i told you to spread. them."
gingerly, you spread your legs apart. you whined as the cool air hit your core once again, mentally preparing yourself to be in this position the rest of the night. mikasa hummed, stroking your thigh as she got her toys ready for another round.
gently, she placed a bullet vibrator against your sore clit before presumably doing the same to annie. "you know the deal, girls. nobody cums until i say so. understand?"
"yes ma'am," you both mumbled in unison. and with that, mikasa turned the vibrators on.
you grit your teeth as the soreness from your past 4 orgasms hit you will full force. as much as it hurt, the urge to cum again was already rapidly approaching you. but no. you had to hold out. if not for yourself, then definitely for annie.
your nails dug into the sheets as an all too familiar tightness began to coil in your lower stomach. "p-please, i can't," you whimpered, thrusting your hips back into the bed in an attempt to get away. in front of you, you could hear mikasa click her teeth as she simply followed your movements. getting away from her wasn't that easy.
"now dear, you can hold out longer than that, can't you?" she sang, pressing the vibrator harder onto your aching clit. "you don't want to disappoint annie again, do you? imagine how she must feel? being denied pleasure over and over again because her slut of a girlfriend can't hang. that's rather selfish, wouldn't you agree?"
you choked on a sob, slamming your fists down into the mattress below you. "a-annie! annie baby, i'm sorry! i'm trying, i really am!" you cried, tears soaking the inside of your blindfold.
"you're okay, you're doing g-great," annie mumbled. from somewhere to your right, you could feel her hand moving across the bed in an effort to find you. blindly, you reach out your own hand until you are able to grasp hers. she gave your fingers a squeeze of assurance, but you wanted more. if you focused on annie, it could distract you from mikasa's torment.
latching onto her arm, you wriggled your way closer to her until you were able to rest your head on her shoulder. now that you were closer, you could hear her pants and groans easier now, and you almost felt guilty. the pleasure was starting to get overwhelming, and your whimpers into annie's ear weren't helping. annie gently placed her hand on your stomach, rubbing sweet circles into it in hopes of grounding the both of you.
"look at my darling girls," mikasa praised, pressing the vibrators down once more. "i think the two of you deserve a reward."
with skillful fingers, mikasa turned the vibrators all the way up, circling them around your clits in an almost soothing manner.
"go ahead and cum for me, my loves."
annie's back arched off the bed as she cried out, holding your hand with a vice grip. you sobbed into her shoulder, finally tipping over the edge for the fifth time tonight. it was painful as much as it was pleasurable; your whole world going white for a moment.
you whimpered to yourself, gingerly coming down from your high. next to you, you could hear annie trying to catch her breath before rolling over to engulf you in a hug. the two of you stayed like that for a moment, basking in the sweaty afterglow until you began to drift off. you could hear mikasa moving about the room, probably tidying up a bit before tending to the both of you.
a cool hand placed itself on your shoulder as the other untied your blindfold, finally returning your vision, albeit blurry. mikasa loomed over you, now untying annie's blindfold with an adoring smile on her lips.
"you both did so well for me. you two rest for now and let mommy take care of the rest, alright?"
12k words! 𝑹𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒓𝑶𝒏𝒚! ♡ 𝑪𝒂𝒎𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍𝑶𝑪! | 𝑴𝑫𝑵𝑰 -> 𝑾𝑨𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮𝑺: size k*nk, or*al (m recieving), p in v s*x (use of a condom), tricking/“paying for p*ssy,” power-imbalance (financial), dr*g use (w*ed), heavy drinking, drunk s*x, morally grey ethics concerning modern-day s*x work and “buying” one’s consent, basically pr*stitution, objectification, egotistical Onyankopon, body mods (n*pple piercings), specific descriptions of body types, use of n-word (characters & writer are Black), roughly edited
Part 1
Finally, the last part! Warning, this fic isn’t the most ethically sound and I, as the writer, can recognize that. I don’t necessarily condone all concepts portrayed in this fic, but it’s just for the plot. Sometimes, I like morally grey shit. If you unable to separate this fictional story from real life, I advise against reading this. Enjoy & reblog! <3
“Right this way! Please follow the signs!”
Standing in a dimly lit corridor, the attendant is dressed in a prim suit as they shout directions to the attendees.
Echoes of sound check bounce off of the walls of the large stadium. At times, there are minutes of silence before they’re interjected by brief clips of music or even someone speaking into the mic.
This place is massive, built to house thousands of screaming fans at a time.
All of it piques Bliss’s interest as she’s guided along by security. Some part of her wishes she could stay and watch the onstage preparation up close.
However, she forgets about all of that as she travels up a steep flight of stairs, away from the stadium’s general seating.
Tiny lights, embedded along the sides of each step, light the way through the dark staircase. Kitten heels click softly as she slowly climbs, in line behind another guest. She neglects to hold the railing, preferring instead to latch onto her phone.
Her other hand grips the wooden baton handles of her newest purchase: a Goyard Saïgon mini bag.
Truthfully, it was an impulsive purchase made with just a fraction of the money she received from her Halloween Stream—and, speaking of, her bank account has never been healthier.
That stream has upped the quality of her life, undoubtedly. Not that she wasn’t living comfortably before, but her world has been opened to new experiences.
For instance, premium seating at a concert of her favorite artist. She’s in a space where she can afford this experience probably three times over. Yet, she didn’t even have to spend a dime to get it.
She can hardly contain a tiny grin with the flash of a memory—a conversation between her and Onyankopon over messages. Just a casual discussion, going in-depth about this entire arrangement.
Anyway, as the little quirk disappears from her face, a burst of light washes over her. She’s finally reached the top of that long staircase. Just a few feet away is the enclosed balcony, cased off behind glass so clean that she’s sure she would’ve walked right into it.
A “Luxury Box” is what they called it—an exclusive lounge, secluded to a balcony room above the stage. There’s a different attendant at its door, greeting each guest as they enter.
“Good evening, enjoy the show,” the young woman greets with a pleasant smile and gentle nod.
Bliss can’t help but to show teeth, the apples of her cheeks even aching. “Hi, thank you.”
As she spills into the room with the other guests, her eyes are everywhere. The Luxury Box is spacious, considering that there are about thirty people here.
Her first observation is that this place is comfortable. Cushioned chairs positioned before a large glass—it’s the perfect seating arrangement with an excellent view of the stage from its left.
The floor below the seats is glass, too. The sight gives way to a sea of empty chairs, hundreds of feet below. Soon, they’ll be filled with excited fans.
To the right of the viewing area is the bar, decked out in expensive, unopened bottles. There’s already a bartender behind the counter, wiping down the dark marble.
And by the looks of it, they’re fully stocked: wine, champagne, beer, juice, water—anything a patron could desire.
That’ll be the first spot she hits up.
On the room’s opposite side is an array of food spread out amongst a long, cloth-covered table. From hors d'oeuvres to dessert, they have everything. Behind the table, caterers attend to the food, ensuring its presentation is on point.
She needs no more convincing. Whipping out her phone, Bliss is quick to record the sights surrounding her. She slowly pans the camera, trying to catch everything in the video.
She hadn’t known what to expect before coming, however, Bliss had to give herself props. She managed to dress perfectly for the occasion, blending seamlessly with the lounge’s modern chic decor.
Jean Paul Gaultier hugs her body tonight as a black maxi dress with small grey dots that outline the feminine shape. The dramatic curves and slopes of her body stretch it out in a way that elevates the dress.
No doubt, it’s a wonderful look. However, it’s also a rather sheer piece, as its material is comprised of a thin, but tiny netting. Several times throughout her journey here, she’s had to pull her bundles to the front, having them fall over her chest.
It’s her fault she hadn’t tried on the dress before packing it, she realizes. If she had, she would’ve known to buy some pasties beforehand.
Peering around the room one more time, Bliss seems to recognize a few faces—well known influencers, and even a couple of celebrities.
Be calm, she reminds herself. She’s blended in so far.
A nervous tick, she glances at the time on her phone. She exhales with the realization that it’s only about an hour and a half more before the show is scheduled to start.
She’s closer to seeing Onyankopon live. Closer to meeting him in person for the first time. The thought has her queasy and excited all at once. She presses a manicured hand to her stomach.
God, she wishes she knew someone here, just so that they may distract her from the “what-if’s” and “maybe’s” running through her mind.
But, really? Who needs friends when there’s a bar just a few feet away?
Especially when there’s a cute ass nigga behind it?
She just found her newest distraction to take the edge off of things.
•
The stadium’s lights have lowered to pitch-black, darkness, allowing the stage’s to shine. Shades of purple bleeding into white beam brightly.
The DJ, propped farther back on the large stage, plays tracks that only hype up the audience.
Below the balcony, through the glass flooring, Bliss watches fans flood the stadium. They almost perfectly resemble waves of the sea. Even their cheers can be heard from up here.
As it gets closer to that time, they grow louder. They almost compete with the music.
Nursing her second drink of the night (if she doesn’t count the shot she has in between this and her first), Bliss sits plum in her seat. There’s a pleasant buzz running throughout her, and obviously it’s the liquor.
Just a little bit tipsy, more and more things seem to catch her attention as her body and mind ease up. So many distractions around her, she almost didn’t realize that someone’s come onstage if it weren’t for the screams of the fans beneath them: the show’s opener—Connie Springer.
She makes a quiet gasp around her straw, eyes wide as she leans forward in her chair.
Bliss has a couple of his songs in her rap playlist. He’s not nearly played as much as Onyankopon is in her household. Still though, the support is there.
She actually found Connie through him. Seeing as they’re closely affiliated and under the same label, his music was recommended after Ony’s.
Even in a couple of Ony’s Instagram posts, she can spot the other man in the background. She must admit, the rapper keeps a couple of fine ass niggas around him—hence why she follows Connie, too.
She only hopes Ony doesn’t look too deeply into that.
But, coming back to reality, Bliss can see why Ony had picked the man to be his opener.
He’s getting the crowd hype, and they’re rapping the lyrics right along with him. By the time his set ends—an unforgettable forty minutes—the audience is even livelier than before.
It’s astounding, really. She didn’t think they could get any louder. And the energy is coming off of the crowd in waves. She can’t be the only one in the lounge affected by it, her skin covered in goosebumps.
“I appreciate y’all tonight!”
The crowd cheers after Connie. His image is blown up on the Jumbotrons, giving every onlooker a view of his gemmed smile.
“I know y’all loud for me, but I’ma need y’all to be even louder for my brother, Onyankopon!”
Deafening shrieks fill the stadium. And Bliss is sure that if she were on the ground, her eardrums would’ve been ruptured.
Even the other guests in the lounge cheer loudly. And she’s thankful, knowing that she won’t have to hide her excitement when the time comes.
As Connie leaves the stage, the crowd chants: “Ony! Ony! Ony!”
With the stage now empty, its lights dim and the music almost completely fades. For a moment, everything seems to still.
The fans grow quieter—even if it’s just by a fraction. But, it’s safe to say that everyone in the stadium is watching the stage closely with bated breath. Waiting for something—anything—to happen.
Then, music strikes with volume that reignites the crowd.
Almost everyone around her shows their enthusiasm, tempting her to do the same. So, Bliss cups a hand near her mouth, letting out a resounding “wooh” from her seat.
“ATL, you ready?”
The voice, deep and amplified by the mic, sends a chill through her. For about ten seconds, the music is completely drowned out by the fans’ screams.
Her eyes scour the stage, not finding a single soul on it. It’s still dark, too.
Then, there’s another sound: a low chuckle.
Her stomach drops. She never thought she’d be so attracted to the sound of someone’s laughter. She’s sure that there are at least a thousand other fans that are sharing the very same experience. She can’t be the only one.
“Nah, I’on think y’all heard me—“
Purple streaks of light shoot down onto the stage. Flames, rigged at the perimeters of the platform, burst out as the man of the hour runs out onto the stage.
Any music is drowned out by the fans.
The stage’s backdrop illuminates the entire platform as a spinning graphic of the letter “O,” wrapped in barbed wire, displays on the screen.
“Y’all niggas ready?”
She finally sees him as his image is blown up on the Jumbotrons. It’s not the clearest resolution, but she can tell just how fine he is.
Mic held to his lips, the lower half of his face is hidden. A baggy, black zip up covers his upper half. He’s even got his hoodie up, sadly, obscuring the rest of his face.
But, as she stares at his image, she notices the flashes of light catching on the cloth. Squinting just a little, she catches sight of the tiny crystals dotting the dark fabric.
As Onyankopon moves about, he glitters underneath the stage lights. Tiny, rain-bowed streaks of light are caught by the cameras, projecting his image.
But that isn’t the only thing on him that shines. Coming around his neck and resting on his chest, is a tangle of thick, heavy looking chains.
His microphone picks up every clank they make. They don’t even need light to shine, his diamonds still dance in the dark. It’s almost blinding.
Large, baggy black cargoes cover his strong legs. However, it’s only the base for the shiny, silver and purple, jeweled buckles strapped all down the length of the fabric.
“Y’all turnt up in here, tonight!”
There’s a slight breathlessness to his voice, and it makes her body clench. If she could bottle up the sound and keep it to herself, she would.
Or is that the liquor talking?
As Onyankopon pulls the purple mic away from his face, a camera picks up on him. The closeup of his face is blown up all over the Jumbotrons.
As the crowd cries out for him, he shows them a perfect smile. His bottom row of teeth covered in VVS diamond lined, opal grillz.
It’s almost too much, the sight threatening to turn Bliss into a puddle right in her seat.
He lifts the mic to his mouth again, just as laughter tumbles out past his lips. “Y’all right up there with Chicago! Think you could do better than ‘em tonight?”
Fans are going ballistic, jumping and cheering even louder. They begin to chant again, repeating his name over and over.
All of these people, screaming his name, are here to see him. She can’t fathom how he does it.
But watching him, seeing how his smile stretches wider and the apples of his cheeks swell, she sees that he’s in his element.
“Yeah … y’all niggas some real competition!”
More screams. She almost wishes she was amongst the crowd, free to go as crazy as the other fans.
“Do me a favor: keep this energy the whole night! Nothing less—only up from here!”
Those were his last words as the beat to one of his songs begins, and the stadium dissolves into madness. The heavy base punches through every body filling it.
Bliss can feel it in her chest. Even the luxury box’s glass has the faintest tremor to it.
Ony runs down the middle of the stage, where it stretches out into the crowd. Mic to mouth, he’s on it, rapping over the track with passion.
A nasty mug contorts his face as he performs, clearly feeling the lyrics. And the fans are rapping right along with him.
One in particular, a young, scrawny man with big glasses, is caught on camera. His body is pressed to the metal barrier, he’s leaning over, gazing up at the rapper as his mouth moves along to every word.
Stepping closer to the area, Ony points a gloved hand at the young fan, making sure everyone—even the cameras—are paying him close attention.
Bliss’s heart swells at the sight of the endearing moment.
Running back to the main stage’s middle, Ony jumps up and down with the song’s beat. The pyrotechnics go off once again as the song’s hook comes up.
The energy consuming this stadium is too powerful to ignore. Bliss loses herself to it. After the first two songs, she can’t even find it in herself to care how crazy she looks—losing herself to the energy of the performance.
Halfway through the show, Onyankopon loses his hoodie.
She remembers it so clearly, when he had unzipped it. The dark fabric parted and gave way to shiny, deep brown abs, littered with tattoos of all sizes.
Her fingers itched to run down the rigid surface of abs.
Free from the heavy material, his head is fully visible. His typical inky black waves are sheathed by an equally black, velvet durag. And she’s almost 100% sure that it’s real velvet—none of that suede shit.
What catches her eyes the most is his nickname, “Ony,” spelled with beaded gems in Old English font on the back of the fabric.
One of the cameras, currently projecting his image onto the Jumbotrons, shows the audience the glistening skin of his back as he walks back to the main stage. His tattoos only continue to bleed into the expanse of the dark skin. Strong muscles ripple beneath the smooth skin.
She pulls out her phone, recording yet another clip of the shirtless man as he performs on the stage below. Without a second thought, she posts it to her Instagram story.
He just looked too fucking good for her not to capture. Without a doubt, Onyankopon is putting on a show.
Bliss can die happy right now…
Except, she can’t.
Not when the starting melody of her favorite song, catches her ears. She gasps, freezing in her seat.
At the center of the stage, Ony’s pacing slows to a stop. He stares out at the jumping crowd, a smile slowly climbing onto his face. The crowd is in a frenzy.
“What y’all know ‘bout this one?”
They roar louder as he continues to search the stadium, not looking for anyone in particular. Not yet.
“Wasn’t even gon’ perform this one, I ain’t gon’ hold you,” he chuckles.
He begins to pace again, thinking with amusement of just how much shit he makes his DJ put up with—what with him prolonging this track just to speak to the fans.
Bringing the mic to his lips, Onyankopon finally looks up at the large luxury box to the left of the stage.
“But, I know you like it.”
A camera catches a closeup of him just as he shoots a quick wink. It’s all over the Jumbotrons, and the crowd goes wild.
As the song finally begins, Bliss’ body catches a chill. She has no choice but to get up for this one, it is her favorite song after all.
It’s definitely a turn up song, and she does just that. Rapping along, she earns the attention of others around her. So entranced by the music, she doesn’t even realize how they begin to hype her up. And she doesn’t miss a word.
Without a thought, Bliss kicks off her short heels. Holding onto the back of her chair, she bends over and throws her ass in a circle.
Hoots and hollers from a few of the women around her goad her on, she sticks her tongue out. One or two of them even give her a couple of taps.
There’s lights shining on her, and she’ll have to remember to ask them for the videos. The dress is doing absolutely nothing to constrict the way her body moves, despite how tight it is.
Standing up straight, she does a full body whine, mouthing her favorite part of the song. Without a doubt, this is a highlight of her concert experience.
Sadly, just as quickly as the song had started, it ends. But, Bliss is only smiling, laughing too hard with the other guests.
Now she can die happy.
•
Three hours of performing—it was a dream to witness. And to think, that after all of that, she’s going to meet the artist.
How this can possibly go, she’s can’t imagine. Well—realistically, it can go one of two ways.
He flew her out for tonight’s show, put her up in one of the best hotels in the city, and even assigned a personal driver to her for the time being that she was here—a big bodied, black truck, of course.
So, there’s only one thing he wants. Bliss knew that coming into this. And she agreed, didn’t she?
The attendants assigned to this luxury box had made the announcement minutes ago to follow the signage for a swift exit, seeing as the show’s over.
Of course, there were a few stragglers—her included. Head buried in her phone, she swipes through the videos she was able to get from the other guests of her “mini performance.”
She’ll definitely have to post these later.
With a ring-dressed middle finger, she’s trimming one of the videos, far too focused to notice the two men approaching her.
“Ms. Bliss?”
Blinking, her head shoots up as her inky black inches fall over her face. She pushes the strands out of the way.
“Yes?”
“Onyankopon’s ready for you.”
Her face blanks as she looks back and forth between the two. Her tongue fumbles in her mouth. So, she remains wordless as she nods.
Coming to her feet, she pulls down her dress and smooths out any wrinkles. Swiping up her mini Saïgon, she follows after the men as they take her to the performer.
•
“Another city finished,” Connie smirks, dapping him up.
Slumped in a chair of his own, Ony laughs. “Yeah, and I’m ‘bout tired as Hell.”
Connie plops down on the futon pushed against the wall of Ony’s dressing room—just a few feet across from the man himself.
“You definitely gonna crash after this,” he laughs, pulling out one of his phones from his pants pocket.
“Nah,” Ony shakes his head. Licking his bottom lip, he tries to conceal a smile as Connie glances at him. “Actually … I got shit to do after.”
Raising a brow, Connie looks at him fully this time. “Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah.”
They both share a knowing look, which only makes this all the more funnier.
“How you meet her?”
Glancing away, Ony bats him off as he sucks his teeth. “Don’t worry ‘bout it.”
“Nah, it better not be ole’ girl—“
“Chill,” Ony quickly looks his way. “Told you I was done with that. This a new vibe. Trust.”
Connie looks him up and down, ultimately deciding to trust his friend. “Alright…”
“Yeah, and speaking of—you gotta get the fuck up outta here.”
Connie makes a face. The question “why” is on the tip of his tongue, ready to fall from his lips, when a knock sounds at the door.
“Shit,” Ony mumbles, slowly getting up on sore feet.
Connie chooses to laugh this time. “Guess that’s my cue to leave.”
“Yeah,” he chuckles, twisting the doorknob just before pulling it open.
“Ony,” Mitch, one of the security guards on his team greets.
“Wassup, man,” he nods.
Quietly, Mitch shifts to the side to allow him to see the short woman behind him: Bliss.
Ony’s eyes light up like a Christmas tree. Like he’s just been served the tastiest looking platter in the world; The finest piece of steak from STK Steakhouse.
“Hey.” The corner of his lips upturn.
“Hi.” Bliss had seemed to breathe the word out.
Without thinking, Ony outstretches an arm to pull her in for a side hug.
“‘Preciate it, y’all,” he says to the guards.
The two men turn away, returning to their stations at the end of the hallway.
Ony opens the door wider, allowing Bliss to slip past him and into the comfortably sized room. As she makes her way past him, he doesn’t stop his eyes from falling below her waist to check out her body.
Her ass moves like water in that dress. And the perfume wafting off of her, mingled with her body’s natural scent, is rich and warm. Luxurious, even. An expensive one for sure.
“Hey,” Bliss waves shyly, meeting Connie’s eyes.
The man with the bleached, shaved head makes a strong effort to keep eye contact. And if Onyankopon weren’t watching him closely from behind her, he would’ve broken it. If only to admire how her body stretches the fabric out—and how terribly it hides her nipples.
“Wassup, how you doing?” Connie smiles kindly. Standing up, he pockets his phone while outstretching a hand to her.
Politely, Bliss gives him a gentle shake before letting her hand fall back to the wooden handle of her purse.
“Ony,” Connie moves over to the man, dapping him up.
“We talk soon,” he nods.
As soon as the door shuts, with Connie’s departure, it’s like all of the air in the room has been sucked out.
Slowly, Bliss turns to face him. He’s already staring her down.
“It’s good seeing you in person.”
His voice is low, but soft.
Her body is covered in goosebumps within seconds. She gives a shaky smile, showing off that cute gap between her two front teeth.
“You, too,” she says.
“You nervous?” He smiles as he heads over to the room’s large vanity.
It allows her the space needed to breathe as she watches him retie the loosened strings of his durag.
“I am,” she giggles, wanting to cover her mouth. “The show was really good, though. I had fun.”
“I’m glad.” He turns back around, leaning against the vanity to stare at her. “Hope you appreciated the song.”
Her smile only grows. “I did, thank you. You don’t even know, I was dancing and everything.”
“Oh yeah?” He raises his brows, watching her beam.
“Yes, it’s my favorite!” She remembers telling him in their DMs that it was her favorite song of his.
However, that definitely isn’t how he learned that fact.
Almost bowing her head, Bliss looks up at him through her thick lash set. “Thank you for performing it.”
“Don’t worry ‘bout it.” He looks her up and down.
He might be exhausted, but he can definitely squeeze out one more performance for the night.
After all, his body is still running off of the adrenaline from the show.
“How was everything? The hotel good?”
She perks up at that. “Hm? Oh—yes!” She nods.
He thinks it’s cute.
“The hotel is very nice, and thanks for the driver.”
“Anything to make you comfortable.” He licks his lips. His eyes flick down for half of a second, catching a peak of her pierced nipples through the dress.
Of course, she notices.
“I’ma ride with you back to the hotel, take a quick shower, then we out for dinner. That’s cool with you?”
Her matte lips roll into her mouth and she nods. It’s a weak attempt at hiding an excited smile. They discussed this before—spending the night out together. Yet, Bliss still finds herself unable to really believe it.
His well-groomed brows lift just an inch. “That’s not a answer.”
She breaks into laughter, feeling silly. “Yes, Ony.”
“Aight. Lemme grab my shit and we could leave together.”
She nods, heading over to the vanity on her own accord as Ony moves about to gather his items.
As he packs his black, Margiela backpack, she tweaks her appearance in the brightly lit mirror. Smoothing down flyaways, fixing her lip combo—she does it all.
Being the great multitasker he is, Onyakopon sneaks glances at her from behind.
This view is everything: The only thing “covering” her ass in that dress is a tiny, black G-string that disappears between the globes of her cheeks anyway. Her honey-brown skin is dimpled but mark-free. And her narrow waist tempts him to grab it from behind.
If tonight goes as planned, backshots are definitely going to be on the agenda. Now, he’ll eventually flip her over on her back, because that face and those titties are too pretty for that position alone.
The mental imagine is enough to make his dick twitch. If he didn’t have any sense, he’d fuck her raw. Just to make her feel every inch and vein, and for him to feel the wet heat of her walls.
But before he gets too carried away with his own thoughts, Onyankopon blinks them away. Slipping into his jacket, he throws his backpack over a shoulder.
“Aight, let’s go.”
Nodding, Bliss returns to his side. Ony is quick to hold out a hand, which she takes.
“When we leave, it might be some fans and paps outside. I can’t control that, I’m sorry. But, I got my people with us, so you should be good.”
Bliss nods, only able to quietly take it all in. She’s never been in the spotlight before. She only hopes that they aren’t too crazy.
“Oh, wait—“
Quickly, she drops his hand to search through her purse. A couple of seconds later, she’s pulling out a pair of designer shades. They’re huge with blacked out lenses, perfect for hiding her face.
Ony laughs. “You got it.”
•
As they’re just a few feet from the exit, body guards at all of their sides, Bliss anticipates Ony dropping her hand, just to keep anymore rumors at bay.
However, as they pass through the threshold of the stadium and the cool, outside air hits them, her hand is still heavy with his.
“Ony!”
“Onyankopon, look this way!”
“Who’s this that you brought out tonight?”
“Is that your girlfriend, Ony?”
Using her purse, Bliss blocks the other side of her face, hoping the cameras don’t catch anything. Her lips tremble as she tries to keep from laughing at the obscene and invasive questions.
Their driver plucks the back door of their car open—a Rolls Royce. Ony lets go of her hand to let her in first.
Just as he climbs in, the driver shuts the door behind them. The second his security backs away from the car, paparazzi and a few fans close-in on the vehicle, trying to snap pictures through the tinted windows.
“Wow,” Bliss laughs, breathlessly. She pulls the large shades off of her face, allowing him to seeing her beautiful face.
“My bad ‘bout that. Should’ve prepared you more.”
“It was actually tamer than I thought,” she smiles.
“Shit, my bad. Ain’t know you had it like that.”
She only laughs at his joke, and he can only think about how much he likes the sound.
As the driver pulls off, heading towards Onyankopon’s hotel, Bliss opens up her camera. She records a couple of clips here and there of herself in the car, careful to keep Ony out of it.
It’s cute, he thinks, how she doesn’t try to take advantage of such a moment. Even more, it allows him to worry less about putting a guard up; He pulls out his phone.
On Twitter and TikTok, he catches posts of his concert, liking and reposting his favorite ones. All of the love from his fans makes his chest swell with pride.
ATL definitely showed out tonight. A contender with Chicago, for sure.
Shutting his phone off, Ony drops it into his lap and leans back in his seat. His gaze is attracted to the woman beside him.
In the low lighting, she’s gorgeous. As the driver narrowly avoids the greater part of a pothole in the street, the car is unstable for a second or two.
In that time, his eyes fall to her chest, seeing how it bounces even under the confines of her dress.
It triggers multiple images in his brain—memories of her past streams.
Finally shutting off her phone, Bliss does a quiet sigh as she pushes her hair over one shoulder, exposing more of her upper half.
Blinking, she finally takes a look at him, and they make eye contact. Off of instinct, she laughs nervously.
“Hi.”
He smiles, showing off his grills. “Hey.”
She rolls her eyes, shaking her head lazily. So oblivious to just how impatient he is for her.
A date with Onyankopon.
She, Bliss, is on a date with The Onyankopon. Never did she think that would be her reality.
Before they arrived, he did just as promised—stopping by his hotel to get ready. He had her stay in the car, yet he definitely didn’t make her wait too long.
When he got back into the car, keeping his backpack at his feet, he smelled heavenly. His cologne was arousing—something about a good smelling man really just does it for her.
His outfit seemed to match the vibe she had went for: a brown Miu Miu leather and sheepskin jacket with snakeskin and flowers over the shoulders. His pants are a basic black, baggy fit jean with chains dangling from a pocket. His jewelry, of course, is silver.
And without a durag, his shiny waves were out for all to see.
There’s no doubt, he’d chosen the fanciest restaurant out here. It was a two-level establishment, and they have the entire second floor to themselves.
Just three of Ony’s security personnel guard the entrance and exit to the staircase. It’s quiet up here, yet peaceful. However, Bliss feels quite awkward, as all of the attention is on her.
They had gotten through appetizers before the real conversation began. Well, really Ony had gone through it. After a show like that, it’s no wonder that he’s worked up an appetite.
Bliss picked at the food here and there, careful not to get full too fast. She also is still nervous.
“What you do earlier today? Before my show.”
Swallowing her sip of the mixed drink she had ordered, Bliss presses a hand to her chest.
“Just some shopping. This is my first time in Atlanta, so I wanted to take advantage of the malls.” She laughs quietly. “I hope your driver didn’t mind.”
Rubbing at his chin hairs, he glances at her purse set off to the side of the table. It’s crisp and the color is well saturated. There’s not an inch of the bag frayed or faded.
“You got this today?”
She follows his gaze. “Yeah,” she says nervously.
He hums. “How much you pay for it?”
She shrugs. “About 6k.”
He smirks to himself, still eyeing the bag. “That’s light … you want it in cash?”
Her eyes almost bulge out of her head. “What? I don’t—“
“If you don’t take the cash, I’ma find a way to get it to you. So quit all’at stuttering, humble shit.”
His voice is calm, quiet too. Which only astounds her, because there’s nothing calm about someone offering her six grand.
But, she’s not slick. Even as her mouth hangs open, he spots the hint of a smile on her stretched lips.
“It’s … I don’t need it, Ony.”
“Shit, I know.” Huffing out a breath of amusement, he smirks down at her. “But you want it, so just take it.”
She looks off to the side, her hair falling in her face before she pushes it over her shoulder for the umpteenth time tonight.
“Y’know, I knew ‘bout you for a minute.”
That stops her in her tracks.
Her Instagram profile is that of the typical IG model—sponsorships, the occasional risky photo, but overall, pretty moderate.
How long had he known about her page? Was he stalking her profile like she’d done his? Why only now say something?
Her heart races. All of these questions she wants to ask—she opens her mouth to do so.
“Yeah, you cute on ‘em live streams.” He continues rubbing at his chin, still eyeing her.
And as those words left his mouth, her own closes.
Her career as a cam-girl isn’t in the spotlight. It’s no well-kept secret, nor is her page really even hard to find. Still, it’s always jarring when she has to come face-to-face with that in reality.
“W-what?“
Her voice is quiet. The shock on her face is quite apparent, too.
“I catch ‘em when I can.” He sits back in his chair and shrugs.
She knows it’s greedy, but if that’s how she gets her money, then so be it: her streams are only accessible to those subbed to her highest tier on her cam-girl page.
“Oh … my God,” she whispers, putting a hand over her mouth.
He cracks a smile, a small chuckle falling out past his lips.
“How long did you—“ She stops herself, looking at him with wide eyes.
“Couple months,” he says, like it’s no big deal.
Her stomach drops to her ass. And as a new thought emerges in her head, her stomach threatens to fall out of her body.
“What’s your username?”
She almost didn’t even want to ask. Onyankopon can only laugh.
“C’mon, now. Y’know who I am.”
She fears she does. He doesn’t need to say it:
onLyONE1
Falling back in her chair, Bliss covers her face as she groans into her hands.
“Shit was obvious, too—“
“Stop, please!” She laughs, shyly. Pulling her hands away from her face, she reveals a soft pout on her lips. “I can’t believe you saw that,” she whines.
Is it crazy that his eyes seem to sparkle as he smiles? “What? Your body?”
“No! Well—kinda. I mean me crushing over you!”
Now, he’s practically cackling. And Bliss’ face burns with embarrassment.
Calming himself down, Ony sighs. “Relax, I thought it was cute.”
She gives him a weak glance, immediately looking away.
“I can’t believe this.” She groans. “Why didn’t you say anything?”
He shakes his head. “That’s federal. I wasn’t even gon’ say nothing, ‘til I found out you was a fan—“
“Ugh,” she looks away, a scowl on her lips. “Don’t do that.”
“You right, my fault,” he chuckles. “A supporter,” he corrects.
“Thank you.”
He hums. “But, that shit was sexy, though.” He shrugs. “So, I had to fly you out here, see you in person.”
When she regains the courage to look him in the eyes, she feels small in her seat. His eye contact is unwavering.
“And get you all to myself.” He scoffs as he runs his eyes over her upper body. “Couldn’t stand you paying attention to all them broke ass niggas.”
His lips frown with thinly veiled disgust. It almost makes her laugh. On the other hand, the statement as a whole makes her tummy flutter.
She hates to admit it, but a possessive man will always be her weakness.
“I’ll double what I gave you, just to get you for tonight.”
“I … Ony…“
The offer is tempting, real tempting. But, can she really do this? The whole 'pay-for-pussy' thing?
He senses her apprehension. Wordlessly, he reaches down by his foot.
The low whine of a zipper catches her ears. Before she can question it, three, fat stacks of rubber-banded hundreds are dropped onto the table. Right before her widened eyes.
He pockets his hands, leaning back in his chair once more. “I matched you for the bag, too.” He nods to the stack.
She’s breathless. All of this money, it’s making her head spin. “O-Ony—“
Her resolve is cracking, he can tell. And this has got to be his favorite part about having money—the power it gives him. He widens his legs underneath the table, feeling himself grow stiff already.
“I’ma selfish ass nigga. I know that. And if I see something I want, I’ma get it. All I really need is one night … but, if you fucking with me, I’ll keep you put up.”
Her brain attempts to formulate a coherent thought, yet nothing comes up. This sounds too good to be true.
But, her mind can’t deny what’s in front of her. And, the idea of him spending so much just to have her—even for a night—only gets her wetter by the second.
He stares at her, patiently awaiting an answer he already knows he’ll get.
But, just to get it out of her faster, he turns up the heat: reaching back into his bag, Onyankopon pulls out another fat stack, placing it on top of the others.
Like magic, Bliss finds her mouth moving before she can even really think twice about it.
She’s giggly off the drinks, but she isn’t the only one. As Onyankopon continues ordering more and more alcohol to the table, she can see that he, too, is loosening up.
He’s talking more, a tad bit more touchy, and even bolder in his flirtatiousness.
She likes it.
Another thing about her and alcohol; She gets talkative. Part of her brain is screaming at her to put a sock in it, judging by Ony’s demeanor:
He’s sat back with an arm thrown over the back of the chair, slowly chewing as he stares at her with low eyes. In his hand, his fingers slowly twist a balled up napkin.
But, she just can’t stop talking. Her mouth is running a mile a minute—she doesn’t even remember what she’s talking about.
However, all of her spouting comes to a stop when Ony finally sits up. Looking elsewhere, he throws the napkin down on the table.
Her eyes dart around. “What happened?”
Pulling out a crisp, black card from his wallet, he snaps it down on the cloth-table. “Ready to go.”
“Oh…”
Oh shit.
It takes almost no time at all for the waiter to take Ony’s card. In the blink of an eye, they’re standing on their feet, ready to leave.
“Don’t forget your cash.”
For a split second, Bliss is confused. But, when she follows the direction of where he points to, she’s quickly reminded.
Those large stacks of cash he’d pulled out for her earlier were sitting so casually to the side of the table, next to her purse. Like it wasn’t money itself. And a lot of it.
She slips her purse over her wrist before scooping them up in her arms.
“Yeah, there you go,” Ony nods, smiling at her.
They follow his security team to the elevator. All the while, he’s got an arm thrown over her slender shoulders.
Only two of his staff follow them into the moderately sized shaft. As the two, burly men stand in front of them, hands clasped before them in similar fashion, Ony’s arm remains around her neck, keeping her back pressed against his front.
And, boy, does it make her dizzy. Not only that, but her body buzzes with a renewed sense of energy.
Everything about him, physically, is all encompassing. His cologne is so strong that it’s all she smells. The weight of his body isn’t stifling, but grounding. Even keeping her warm.
And as her body practically melts into his, the fat of her ass is smushed against his front.
The press of his print, which happens to lie perfectly between both cheeks, is impossible to ignore. She won’t even bother shifting around to get comfortable. Instead, she succumbs to his hold—too easily—and releases a shaky sigh.
Turns out her guess was right, he is big.
When they step out of the restaurant, yet again do they have to shield their faces from the barrage of cameras and flashes surrounding them.
This time, they run to the car, hopping in as silly laughter pours from them. God, they’re so drunk.
“C’mere … so fuckin’ far.” Ony seems to breathe out the words.
Even in the darkness, the look of lust is written all over him. It’s even swimming around in the air. Her eyes do a full sweep of his body, noting how wide his thick legs are spread.
Like a minx, she slinks over from her seat and right onto the one he presents to her.
“Mmh,” he hums, immediately snaking his arms around her small waist and dragging her up higher into his lap.
She giggles, feeling all of him beneath her.
“You smell good.” He mumbles the words into the warm skin of her neck.
Bliss bends her head down and even sweeps all of her hair over the other shoulder to give him more access to her.
The kisses he lays there are hot and wet, pressed into her warm and soft skin. She shivers. One of his hands press into her lower stomach, keeping her from moving too much.
The pulse between her legs has grown into an ache. Every clench her pussy does is almost painful with how strong it is, even worse now that he’s hard beneath her.
God, why did she pick such a long dress?
Without thinking, she grounds down onto him, weakly. Onyankopon’s other hand travels upwards the middle of her abdomen.
She doesn’t focus on his lingering touch. She can’t. Not when he’s sucking a pretty bruise into the side of her neck. Her breathing quickens, and slow, tiny pants leave through her parted lips.
His traveling hand slides up between the valley of her boobs and anchors around her neck just as he lifts his mouth off of her. She bites down on her bottom lip, yet another giggle slips through her teeth.
“Thin-ass dress.” He tightens his grip around her neck. “Might as well have not worn anything.”
His deep voice and his rough hand has her pussy leaking into her panties. He lifts his hips by a fraction, and it pushes a small moan from her.
“Freaky ass lil’ bitch. Got ya titties all out—who’s it for?”
Her eyes flutter shut and she swallows thickly.
He squeezes another moan out of her. “Hm?”
“Y-you.”
He chuckles. “Got my dick all hard, starin’ at ‘em.”
His hand finally moves, and the skin on her neck is cold. She misses it. But, that’s forgotten when both of his hands cup her heavy breasts.
Bliss arches her back, pushing them further into his warm hands. And, never one to refuse a gift, Ony squeezes them.
Her body is weak as he plays with them, damn-near juggling them in his hands. And as he laughs, clearly amused by her body’s reaction, she can only try to keep her moans at bay.
“So pretty,” he mumbles before pressing a a kiss to the side of her face. “Pretty ass titties.”
His hands still, only cupping them. Then, his thumbs begin slow circles her pierced nipples through the dress’s thin fabric. Its tiny netting does nothing to shield her body against the gentle caress.
She turns her head to the side, her mouth open and desperate for something to plug it before an embarrassingly loud moan leaves it.
And like her knight in shining armor, Onyankopon indulges her in an open-mouth kiss. He wastes no time, sucking on her tongue.
Around her piercings, his fingers pinch and pull at her nipples. Bliss can’t help it, moaning into his mouth. Her hips rock against his, desperate to finally get on his dick.
When he finally pulls back, they can both breathe. And it’s the first time that they notice music playing through the car’s speakers.
“Mmh, fuck,” he sighs. Ony sits back in his seat.
Breathlessly, Bliss fixes her hair, trying to distract herself from the way her body was lit on fire from just kisses and fondling.
Ony looks around the back cavern of the car, quickly finding just what he was looking for: his bottle of Don. It’s stuffed in the side pocket of the car door, calling out for him.
Securing an arm around her waist, Ony leans forward to pick it up out of the car door’s side pocket. When he’s sits back, he pulls the top off the bottle and wastes no time taking a sip.
Busying herself, Bliss grabs her phone from its spot in the cupholder. She opens up Instagram and holds her phone up to snap a couple of clips of herself.
The near darkness of the vehicle is perfect, showing not too much nor too little for the camera to see. And every last clip stays in her drafts.
Still, she’s careful not to get Ony’s face in it, only doing close ups of her face as the music plays.
When Onyankopon finally pulls the bottle away from his face, he sees what she’s doing.
As she records another clip, she zooms in on her body, caressing herself and even showing off her pierced nipples through the dress.
A quick thought puts a smirk on his face. He interrupts, bringing his hand into frame as he squeezes one of her boobs. The ring on his pinky finger glistens under the cameras low flash.
With a surprised gasp, she cuts the clip short.
“Keep recordin’,” he says in her ear, gruffly.
“Why?” She chuckles. “You wanna be seen?”
He scoffs quietly. “That’s cute.” Shifting his hips, he pushes his dick harder against her, just for a bit of spite. “This just for you, though. Don’t post nothing.”
His nose and lips to her neck, his voice in her ear, his hands on her body—she shivers.
Pressing record again. She zooms in on his hand as it gropes her yet again. Very soon after, it slides up and wraps around her neck. She stops the video.
With a giggle, she saves it to her drafts. “Should I send it to you?” She questions, tapping away on her phone.
“Nah, keep that,” he mumbles. Turning his head, Onyankopon peers out of the window, watching the city zoom past them. “Got some other shit planned.”
Thankfully, there’s no paps around. No need for them to rush into the hotel or hide their faces.
As they take their time to get out of the vehicle, Ony’s security surrounds the car.
“Wait—the money,” Bliss worries.
She’s halfway out of the car, a hand in Ony’s clutch as he’s the one helping her out.
“Don’t trip, I’ma have my people get it for you.”
As her feet land on the concrete ground, Onyankopon laces an arm laces around her waist, pulling her in close.
“Okay,” she hums, bringing a hand to his chest.
As she looks up into Onyankopon’s low eyes, the lust in them is undeniable. She practically shivers with excitement.
“You cold?” He chuckles, cracking a grill-decorated smile. His perfectly groomed brows even pull together.
God, she’s never noticed how perfect his face looks up close.
Dumbly, she nods, her lips stretching into a wide smile. She watches his eyes flick downward to glimpse at her lips.
“I’ma get you warm soon, right?”
“Mmh, okay.”
Shaking his head, he allows himself to smile wider as he follows his security team into the hotel.
As he said, two men stay behind to clean up the money at the back of the Rolls Royce. Just for Bliss.
Onyankopon’s room is on the eleventh floor. Normally, one would think that the commute from the hotel lobby to his room—by way of elevator, of course—wouldn’t take much time.
Five minutes, max.
But to Bliss, those five minutes are feeling a lot like thirty, at the very least.
While they waited for the elevator, Onyankopon was all over her. Large hands pulling her in and keeping her close—gripping her ass, too.
She’d whine his name, pushing her face into his chest. Because with the little bit of stragglers lingering in the lobby, there were still wandering eyes.
And he’d tell her, “Let ‘em watch,” because that’s the type of nigga he is.
‘Rapper’ seems like a fitting title for him.
Oh, but when they finally get in the elevator? Not even his security being there was enough to keep him off of her.
He traps her against the back wall of the elevator. His large hand grasps the junction of her neck and jaw.
There’s tongue involved, far sooner than she thought there would be. But, she’s not complaining. Their heads twist as they suck on each other.
She finds herself moaning into his mouth as he applies pressure around her neck.
Bliss is barely able to pull away with the inch of breath that she was able to escape with. Both their lips are glossed over with spit—slimy and sticky. Their rushed pants quickly dry it, however.
Before either of them can say anything, the elevator dings with the announcement of their arrival to the eleventh floor.
Only once the door to Ony’s suite shuts, is when they finally lose his security for the night.
Bliss remains near the door, her first thought to take off her shoes. She keeps a hand on the nearby wall as she unhooks the back of her kitten heel from her foot.
It should take only ten seconds to get both shoes off. Yet, she lingers in that spot well after the time is up. Why?
Well, she’s watching him.
Watching Onyankopon shrug that heavy jacket off of his wide shoulders and throw it down on the mini bar table. Watching him kick off his shoes. Watching him take a seat on a short leather couch, positioned in the middle of the circular shaped living room.
She isn’t quick enough; He catches her staring.
Her second heel finally drops to the ground. It makes a muted thud against the tiled floor—which is cold against her perfectly manicured feet.
With a tired sigh, Ony leans back against the couch, refusing to break eye contact. “Come.”
A faint smile makes the corner of her lips rise, and an amused scoff leaves her.
This time, Onyankopon watches her.
Watches the way her hips seem to perfectly sway—if even unintentional—with each step. Watches how her boobs bounce softly beneath the tight dress. Watches her land softly on his open lap, throwing an arm around his neck, too.
She throws her purse and phone down onto the cushion next to them, completely disregarding the objects.
Softly, he kisses his teeth, his eyes running over her body.
“When you gon’ take this fucking dress off?”
She laughs. “When are you gonna take it off me?”
He licks his lips as he reaches behind her to slide a hand up her back, searching blindly for—he found it.
At the top of her back, at the base of her neck, his fingers collect the small zipper and pulls. He drags it all the way down her spine, until the track stops, right above her ass.
“Now you want me to pull it off or you got that?”
Rolling her eyes, Bliss tugs at the tight sleeves of her dress, pulling her arms out. As she drags the constricting fabric down her body, her boobs spill out.
The piercings immediately catch his attention. He resists the urge to reach out for them and touch.
Pulling back her hair, she tosses the bundles over a shoulder, allowing him to see everything. For a moment, she stands, only to pull the rest of the dress down.
When she finally steps out of the pool of her own clothes, the only thing that covers her is that tiny ass G-string.
“Wish I could’a seen you at the show,” he tells her as she comes to sit back down on his lap.
Bliss licks her lips, looking down into his eyes. She hums, gazing at him. “I was dancing and everything.”
“Oh, yeah?” His voice is soft and hushed, like hers. “Show me how you was dancing.”
She bites down on her lip, trying to stop her smile from growing.
He shifts beneath her, if only to pull out his phone. It’s a seamless process, how he was able to connect his phone to speakers that seem to be connected throughout the entire suite.
She almost laughs, if it weren’t for how serious he is; It’s one of Ony’s songs from his recently released EP.
“Be my dancer,” he says in her ear, smiling wide.
She almost shivers.
Wordlessly, she turns her back to him and puts hands on his spread knees. Leaning forward, she starts a slow whine. And Ony is all too happy to watch her ass move in circles right on his lap.
Reaching into his jeans pocket, he pulls out a rubber-banded stack, just a bit thinner than those he had at the restaurant. He pops the elastic binding all of the bills together.
The beat changes, and Bliss shakes her ass side-to-side. Ony stretches an arm over her. The quick flick of his thumb pushes fifties and hundreds fluttering over her.
Entranced by the way the fat of her ass moves, he palms one cheek with the other hand.
As he begins to rub, Bliss returns to a slow whine before dropping it in his lap, earning a grunt from him. When she lifts her ass to do it again, Ony smacks it, gripping her immediately after.
Every time, she bounces her ass harder against him. She fights the urge to stop dancing and just solely grind against him, because at this point it’s getting hard to ignore the way he’s poking through his jeans.
Her bounces grow shorter. The pressure and friction threaten to make her eyes roll back. She’s close to moaning out.
“Shit…” He bites down on his lower lip as he grips the fat of her hip. “Sexy ass lil’ bitch,” he groans.
In all this excitement, he almost forgot what they were doing. Picking the stack back up, he resumes the money shower, allowing the rest of his bills to rain down on her.
She looks back at him over her shoulder, noting the hand in his lap, holding his belt.
Biting down on her lip, Bliss fluidly turns around to get on her knees between his legs. The fallen bills keep her skin from touching the cold tiles.
One hand is positioned on his knee. The other snakes up his other legs, heading towards the buckle of his belt.
“Oh, you wanna get nasty?” His smile is full of mischief.
She nods as she focuses on opening his pants.
“Shiiit, go ‘head.”
And he didn’t need to tell her again.
Manicured hands pull him out of his boxers. Bliss has to take a minute to cement this moment in her brain. Her heart is pounding in his chest.
He’s heavy in her hand. The very tips of her acrylics just barely touch as she’s wrapped around him. His thickness makes her tummy stir. She can’t wait to take him.
All of those nights she’s spent in bed, imagining him buried deep in her guts—now, it won’t be a toy doing the work. It’ll be the real thing.
Leaning forward, Bliss presses a kiss to the underside of his head. Quickly, she stretches out her tongue and laves it.
“Don’t try to be cute,” he says through gritted teeth. Immediately, a hand swabs around the back of her head to gather her bundles in a messy, yet tight ponytail. “Suck me up like you do with them toys.”
She opens her mouth wide. Carefully tucking her teeth, Bliss engulfs his entire tip. She keeps him between her tongue and the roof of her mouth, sucking.
Her pace isn’t necessarily slow, that wasn’t even her intention. But, she’s not fast enough, either.
The hand in her hair guides her, encouraging a smooth push-and-pull of her head.
He sucks in air through his teeth. “Oou, just like that. Yeah—relax that throat.”
Her hands stretch across his denim-dressed knee caps, squeezing tighter as she struggles to keep up.
There’s a soft clinch in her face, eyes watering, as she gently gags.
“M-make sure you get that shit wet—mmh. Get it messy … just like that, get my dick messy.”
His voice softly coaxes her on. The firm grip on her hair paired with his commands has her doing everything he wants, and probably more.
His pace picks up, his force getting rougher. And even beneath the thick fans of her lash extensions, he can see her eyes rolling back.
Her gags are heavier, louder. His dick stabs her throat, causing wet clicks every time he touches the back of it.
He groans out, his stomach clinching, as he feels her tighten around him.
“Sshit!” He laughs, her choking music to his ears. With a hiccup, a large rivulets of spit leak from her puckered lips and drips down his dick. “Yeaaah, just like that!”
As he chuckles over her, her pussy bares down on nothing. Her body is obsessed with the way he sounds.
It’s messy—so messy. Frothy bubbles of spit and cum gather at the rounded corners of her mouth. Thick globs hang from her lips, some of it even rolls down her neck. But all of it drips onto her bare chest, sticking to smooth skin.
And she doesn’t intend to do anything about it. The only goal she aims to accomplish at the moment is taking this dick without throwing up all over it.
Ony hooks a hand on the underside of her jaw as the other only tightens around her hair. All movement of her head is halted and the brief moment of stillness allows her to breathe properly—through her nose, of course.
“You gon’ swallow?”
“Mhm,” she nods eagerly. The fragile hum crackled as it left her.
Ony gazes down into her tear-filled eyes. He notes the mess clouding the bottom of her pretty face
“Sure?”
Her muffled ‘yes’ almost makes him laugh. She can hardly speak around his dick.
“Aight then.”
This time, he’s driving his hips forward, face-fucking her. Bliss lurches forward, hacking as he drills her throat. Yet she doesn’t tell him to stop. Nor does she pull away or even tap his thigh.
“C’mon,” he grunts, the deepest scowl on his face. “Take this dick, take this … f-fucking dick.”
Her body goes pliant as she allows him to use her face like a toy. However, her lips remain tight around him. She doesn’t even try to keep the spit from falling out of her mouth.
The longer he continues, his dick glides in and out of her lips. It’s all so slippery, she gags less and less with every thrust.
There is no announcement of his arrival. Only one more brutal thrust before he presses his hips to her face. They occasionally twitch as he shoots thick ropes of cum down her throat.
She almost chokes. Almost. It’s difficult to swallow his load around his dick, she lets out a gag or two.
When he finally drags himself out of her mouth, webs of spit and cum stretch between his tip and her swollen lips. She heaves, his hanging dick still in her face.
Too focused on gathering her breath, Bliss doesn’t see as he pulls his shirt off.
“Lift ya head,” he says, a soft hand cradling the back of hers.
Bliss looks up, staring into his eyes as he uses his Coogi shirt to wipe the muck off of her face.
His brows are furrowed as he concentrates on cleaning her off. “Yeah … can’t have all this shit drying on ya skin.” He even goes as far as to get her neck and chest. “Aight … there. You good now.”
He pats her cheek with a smile, earning a giggle from the woman on her knees.
“Thank you.”
He outstretches a hand, helping her up on her two feet.
“It’s nothing,” he says softly. Using his soiled shirt, he wipes down his dick and inner thighs. And when he’s done, he tosses it aside.
As Ony is pulling up his pants, his dark eyes roaming her bare body, he gets an idea—eager to have her participate in it.
“You tryna smoke?”
•
The blunt shakes between her unsteady fingers. She doesn’t get a good inhale in—can hardly even pass it back to him.
Onyankopon does her a favor, taking the blunt back as he pushes his dick back in.
“Oou—shit.” Her shaky groan is music to his ears.
Holding the thick blunt between his lips, he takes his time bottoming out, both hands on her hips.
Her pussy flutters around him, her stomach stirring. This is the deepest he’s gotten, feeling his tip smushed against her cervix. Her head’s dizzy.
“Fuuuck, Onyy—“ A weak hand, hesitant in nature, cradles her lower tummy,
“I’m deep?”
“Mh—yes.” Her breath hitches.
He lifts a hand from her skin to pluck the blunt from between his lips. A thin cloud of smoke puffs from his nose.
“You could handle it,” he rasps.
The slowly burning blunt dries his throat out, almost makes it scratchy. And yet the wetness between Bliss’ thighs makes it easy to forget the minor discomfort.
A shaky gasp slips from her mouth as he begins a slow stroke. It’s no surprise to her when—even as he’s the one fucking her—he pulls her back by the hips. The quiet clap of her ass against his pelvis and thighs cheers him on. It encourages him.
He wants her to be louder. He wants to hear more.
One minute he’s delivering slow, deep strokes, letting her body sing. Her pussy’s got a vice-like grip around him as it creams around him. Before long, she’s gripping the sheets tight and her legs tremble.
Blunt be damned; Onyankopon drops it onto the floor in favor of focusing on the woman below him.
Her moans are loud and guttural as his dick punches her stomach from the inside. Even as they’re loud, the bed’s pristine, white sheets weaken the sounds.
And that just isn’t doing it for him.
“Nah, c’mere—“
Fingers grip her hair to yank her face out of the sheets. Her neck strains as her head is angled so far back, that she catches sight of something she’d been too horny to even see before: the mirror above the bed.
She’s got a clear eye-view of herself getting fucked as roughly as she’s always dreamed. It makes her clench down on him harder, she even whimpers seeing it. In such a fucked out state, it’s a drug seeing the way her body ricochets against his.
A small part of her is embarrassed seeing the faces she makes, she’s out of it. Yet, she loves it all the same. With Onyankopon as another set of eyes, she loves it even more—being watched while he turns her out.
Moan after moan pours from her lips until her throat is sore, and even then she still continues to yell at the top of her lungs about how good his dick is.
“Yes—yes! So … fuckin’ big—oh fuck!”
It’s impossible to keep her grip on reality. Her knees can barely hold her up. The sweet pain in her lower stomach has her eyes rolling back. Ony tugs at her roots harder.
“Know you see yourself,” he grunts. “Know you see how I’m fuckin’ you.”
His smirk and breathless voice is just the cherry on top—she trembles as she squirts on him. But her release doesn’t make him slow down. In fact, Onyankopon goes harder.
“Mhm … cream on my shit. Squirt on my shit—drown me.”
Every time she tries to look at their reflection her eyes either crossed or she just can’t keep them open. All of her strength is reduced to nothing.
Onyankopon’s strokes, which hold an ungodly amount of force behind them, shakes the woman to her core. It knocks the air from her chest.
A choked noise followed by heavy breathing is all that her body can muster. Seeing his response, Ony does it again, loving how it leaves her breathless and with no sound.
He does it again. And again. And again. The clapping of skin is deafening to Bliss’s ears. Her vision blurs and all her body can do is focus on one thing at a time. All sounds begin to fade out. She can only spotlight the repeating jabs to her insides.
Every time she tightens around him, he finds it harder to hold back. But he keeps up. The faster he goes, the more sloppy and less accurate he becomes.
As they continue on it doesn’t matter, Bliss is so close to another release, that it would only take a couple of these blind thrusts for her to cum again.
“Shiiit!”
“What? It’s not enough?” He pulls out, and quickly thrusts back in, feeling triumphant when she yelps out.
“T-too mu—much,” she hisses.
He pulls out and she gasps, her body clenching around nothing. He takes himself in his hand, rubbing the head against her lips. He smears her cream around with his latex-covered tip.
She’s been stretched open, making it all too easy for him to see the creamy pinkness typically hidden behind brown lips. It’s a sight for sure, one that he can’t look away from as she pushes out some of her previous release.
However, he hadn’t realized that he was pressed for time; Bliss whines out, pushing back on him. Even her cunt clenches down, like it missed the fullness.
“C’mon,” she mumbles into the sheets.
He laughs. “You was just crying it was ’too much.’”
A brief moment of strength strikes her as she pulls her head out of the pillows to look back at him. “Put it in, Ony!”
With little to no effort, on account of how wet she was, he slips right back in, granting her that satisfying feeling of being stuffed.
She moans sweetly and drops her head into the sheets, a long groan moving past her lips and he rolled his hips. The feeling of him stroking her insides, so good, better than good.
It was great, and her eyes rolling back were evidence of that. He pulls out and pushes back in, repeating that movement at a fast pace. She sank her teeth into her lip, trying to stop herself from being too loud.
Bringing her hips up higher, Onyankopon achieves a better angle. She was getting drunk off his strokes, as well as the sound of him blowing her back out.
“Oh—oh… God,” she drawls.
The pleasure is overwhelming and she scoots up, trying to lessen the hits to her guts.
“Oh, so you runnin’? I thought you wanted me to beat it up?”
He pulls her back and holds onto her shoulders. Applying pressure, he uses that leverage to repeatedly bring her back on him, his thrusts hitting harder and deeper..
“Oh fuuuck,” she groaned and gasps, shutting her eyes to stop them from rolling back.
“You confusin’ me, mama.”
He’s reveling in the tight, warm and wet hug her body offers. He looks down, noting how her her body coats his dick in her cum.
“Shit, shit, oh fuck,” she whines.
He smacks her ass and keeps going.
“Oh shit…” he groans. “So… fuckin’ good,” he says under his breath, closing his eyes and getting lost in the feeling.
Bliss’s whimpers bring him back. Her thighs shake and her arch comes undone.
In a flash, the desire to see her face again hits him like a freight train. And what other choice does he have but to do something about it?
It’s hard, but Onyankopon pulls out. Using what’s left of his strength, he flips her over on her back and drags her body to the edge of the bed. He’s wordless in his actions, she’ll see his point very soon.
But, for now, Bliss sits up on her elbows to watch with tired confusion as he moves her.
Strong hands grabs her thighs and pull her flush against his front, eliciting a yelp from her. Instinctively, she wraps her legs around his waist, giving him the perfect opportunity to lift her hips completely off the bed.
“What the fuck?” She laughs, her fatigue so apparent in her hoarse voice.
She has to make a great effort to hold herself up. Of course, Ony holds her, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t doing some type of work.
“Trying something different. You good with this?”
She doesn’t think she’s ever been in such a position. It excites her, makes her giddy. It even brings a renewed sense of excitement and energy to her body. Her hair falls in her face as she gives a loose nod.
The muscles in his bicep flex as he transfers all of her weight to one hand, busying the other as he grabs himself. Just like this, she’s like a five-star meal placed before him, ready for him to demolish.
He gives himself two quick tugs before aligning with her weeping center and slowly pushing back in.
The stretch is wonderful every time, evidenced by the way Bliss throws her head back.
He fucks into her, holding onto her hips so tight that his thumbs press against her hip bones. She writhes, and her legs damn near squeeze the life out of him as he hits spots in her that she didn’t even think to be possible.
“Keep squeezin’ me like that—yeah,” he groans out, throwing his head back as well.
Her moans seem to have run out despite her mouth hanging wide open. She’s completely silent, unable to scream as he digs her out.
“Uh—fuck, I’m ‘bout to c-cum—” Ony’s resolve seems to be cracking as his voice waivers with his moans.
Her legs tremble and her pretty toes curl so tight that her feet almost cramp up.
A burning heat flashes throughout his body as his orgasm catches him by surprise. His mouth drops open and his muscles tense before he leans down, dropping them back onto the mattress as he pushes his face into her neck.
Senselessly, Onyankopon ruts into her, riding out his nut until he stops filling the condom. The overstimulation pushes Bliss over the edge as well.
Her orgasm comes crashing down around them as her pussy clenches down on him, only wetting his dick further. She hugs him close, keeping him from pulling out too soon.
“Awe fuck,” he mumbles. As his lips had moved against the skin of her neck, it tickles her.
She giggles.
“Fuck you laughing for?”
She can hear the smile in his voice.
“Tickles,” she breathes out. Shifting beneath him, she can still feel him inside of her, softening by the minute.
His chest rumbles with a deep sigh. “This shit got me … wantin’ to pass out.”
She hums in agreement, slowly dragging a hand up and down his back. His body is hot, a bit sweaty, too. She doesn’t doubt that hers feels the same way to him.
Movements filled with fatigue, Onyankopon pushes himself up to look down at her. Her makeup is definitely fucked up, courtesy of tonight’s events. And yet, he can’t stop himself from smiling when he stares at her.
“What?” She laughs, growing just a little bit shy.
“You better than a fuckin’ blunt after a show.”
She breaks into a full on laugh, giving him a much clearer view of her cute gap. “Thanks?”
“Nah,” he says, shaking his head. “I definitely gotta keep you around.”
And even if he didn’t want to, Bliss doesn’t think she’d let him go.
notes: a little mikey x reader blurb i wrote way back in 2023 on ao3. just thought i'd share it here until i complete some more works!
"how are you feeling?"
you hummed, lifting your arm a bit before smiling. "i'm a little sore, but otherwise, i'm alright."
draken chuckled, patting your head as he headed towards the door.
"he's not going to take this lightly ______. i'm sure you know."
you watched as draken left the room, dread festering in your stomach as a familiar face entered after him.
"hi, mikey."
the blonde nodded as he closed the hospital room door and shuffled to your side. you could tell he hadn't slept well, which was most certainly a worry. your wellbeing had never really been threatened until now, so you could only assume how mikey would react. the boy stood silently beside you, staring down at your face. you offered him a cheerful grin, but he of course didn't return it.
"so...how are you?"
mikey seemed slightly taken aback by your words, which was understandable. he wasn't the one in the hospital bed after all, so why would you be asking how he is?
after receiving no response, you simply shuffled in your bed before pulling your boyfriend down to join you. he hesitantly accepted your embrace; slinging his arm over your torso and resting his head on your stomach. a comfortable silence surrounded the both of you as you gently ran your hand through his blonde locks.
"did it hurt?"
mikey's voice was fragile, and you might've missed his question hadn't you been listening to his soft breathing.
"yes," you responded. "but it doesn't hurt anymore."
the boy nodded, his unreadable expression never faltering in the slightest.
before he could get another word out, you decided it would be best to attempt at easing his guilt.
"you don't have to say sorry, mikey. i know that's hard for you to do," you sighed, rubbing your thumb across his cheek. "there's nothing for you to be sorry for. you couldn't have known."
his grip on your hospital gown tightened. he didn't utter a word, so you continued.
"people make petty attacks to hurt those at the top all the time. there's nothing we can do to prevent that. so stop beating yourself up. i'm fine."
"but are you?"
your movements came to a halt as you glanced down at the boy below you. his grey orbs stared back at you, begging for an answer.
"mikey....being your girlfriend isn't easy," you sighed. "there's no point in lying about that. it's hard. i'm always worried for you and your safety as well as my own. i worry for those in toman too, knowing how much they mean to you. so no, if i had to be honest, i'm not fine. but i'm content, and i enjoy being by your side."
the blonde opened his mouth to retort but you hushed him.
"i don't have to be happy with our situation, mikey. i'm happy with you, and that's what i care about."
mikey stared, processing your words. pressing his face into your stomach, he began speaking. you couldn't really understand what he was saying, but you assumed that was the point. sometimes talking without being heard is the best option.
as the boy's ramblings began to die down, you could feel a wet patch growing where your boyfriend's face was planted.
"it's okay, mikey," you cooed, rubbing his head once again. it was very rare to see mikey emotional, but this wasn't the time to tear up yourself.
eventually, mikey sat up; shimming his way further until he could rest his head on your chest. "don't put yourself in danger," he sniffled. "i like having you around, so it would suck if you were to die."
you snorted at his bluntness before kissing his forehead.
