actin like i changed connieâs race Solely 4 him to say nigga is fuckin ridiculous . i wrote a dominican version of a fictional character because thatâs an interpretation that i made and a lot of others have too . mind u , he says it only twice in the fic . and damn right iâm constantly overtly defensive and unapologetic . why wld i not be ? iâve had ppl hop on a hate train upset that i âseem meanâ and donât answer asks with âmore enthusiasmâ , for not wanting kids to read my fics , for writing abt fauxcest . . . This . jus a bunch of bullshit . mayb i shldve specified that connie is afro dominican , nonetheless , when i [ me as in milk ] hear that someone is dominican , i immediately think of them also being black .
correlating a made up characterâs actions with people in real life is blowing me too . âmany dominicans donât even consider themselves being black.â . . . . scratching my head . soooo , you saw that i wrote abt dominican connie and lowk thought to yourself âi bet he doesnât even think of himself as black.â . . . . . ok . sure . lol . i believe the disconnect is in a lot of you thinking of these characters as real human beings . itâs strange to watch people treat fanfic like a moral case study .
when i look at connie in the show , light brown / tan skin tone , hazel eyes , uhm . . yeah . makin him dominican made sense . tryin to say âthatâs like me making eren black so he can say nigga.â a brown haired , green eyed , pale skinned male . No . not the same .
you and liyah are friends in real life . m prettie sure a good chunk of black aot tumblr knows that . soooo , upon seeing you unfollow me . . not too long after , seeing Your friend post smthg abt ppl being âcoonsâ on here . i put 2 & 2 together . she can act like âim a hit dog holleringâ but . . it doesnât take a genius to do so . it is a shame that our lil friendship has to end this way , however . . . :T weâll all move on . thereâs no accountability that needs to be taken , Aside frm me not specifying that connie is afro dominican . . . I Guess . my fault . ill edit my fic to do so .
also , this being social media has nothing to do with anything . iâm not responsible for what you , jane , dan , nor lisa read and iâm not going to keep arguing abt a piece of fiction like itâs a court case . no one is going to win a nobel peace prize becuz you called out milk on tumblr for interpreting a character in a different way than you do . if you or anyone else feels like iâve committed an unforgivable offense then okay . feel that way . block me . continue talking about me . do whatever you need to . but iâm not apologizing for anything . please dead this shit cuz this convo is done on my end . @st4rbwrry
đàŸàœČ warnings .á + word countâ 12.0K, original!wifeblackfemreader, husband!onyankopon, (in this au; both reader and onyankopon are 31!) dad!onyankopon, southerncoded!onyankopon, southerncoded!femreader, shy!femreader, giggly!femreader, aggressive!onyankopon, sweet!onyankopon, dominant!onyankopon, riding!, standing doggy style!, pet names, dirty talk, aggressive pet names, squirting, creaming, condomless sex, dick sucking, overstimulation, family drama, minors are not welcome! đàŸàœČ
ăĄăąăâ in the honor of me turning 24 soon, how about some more mature, southern coded family drama? hope yâall enjoy, teehee.
THE CAJUN SPICE OF ANDOUILLE SAUSAGE WAFTS THE ENTIRE HOUSE LIKE A WARM HUG, YOUR HOPES OF IT TASTING AS GOOD AS IT SMELLED FILLING YOU WITH EXCITEMENT. This was your domainâthe kitchen, as feeding a growing boy and a constantly growing man became a second job for you. One you loved, of course.
The farmhouse kitchen hums with the sizzle of cayenne and thyme clinging to the air like a promise. Outside, the Louisiana sun presses heavy against the wrap around porch, where tangled bougainvillea bleeds pink against peeling white wood. Your bare feetâtoes painted a deep plumâpress into worn oak floors as you stir the pot, hips swaying slightly to the hum of Need U Bad by Jazmine Sullivan bumping from the Bluetooth speaker. Â
That Saints jersey of hisâswallowed up by broad shoulders on game days drapes past your thighs now, the fabric still faintly carrying his cologne, something smoky and sweet. Beneath it, the lace of your black thong digs just slightly into the swell of your hips, a reminder of the softness youâve grown intoâwomanly curves that he worships with his hands, his mouth, his everything.Â
Heat now rolls off the stove in waves, curling the baby hairs at your nape into tight spirals, your crinkled jet black lengths parted neatly down the middle, crimped and glossy where they spill over your shoulders. You catch your reflection in the oven doorâfreckles stark against flushed brown cheeks, lashes brushing them like feather tips, lips glossy from the Chapstick youâd swiped on absentmindedly. Â
And there it isâyour wedding band glints under the pendant light, a simple gold oval heâd slid onto your finger at the courthouse when you were both too young to care what anyone thought. Back then, staying home hadnât been the planâbut neither was the way he had gripped your waist in that ultrasound room, voice rough when he said, ââŠAinât no way Iâm lettinâ you stress âbout shit but this baby.âÂ
And here you are now, sixteen years later. Your men wonât storm in for hours yet. No cleats thudding on the porch from that teenager of yours, and no deep chuckle rumbling through the screen door as your husband shakes off work. Just the quiet, the spice in the air, and the thrum of your own pulseâcontent, for now, in this life youâve built.Â
The back of your thumb grazes over the smooth gold of your ring, twisting it absently as memories flash like fireflies behind your eyesâthose early days when Onyankopon was still more boy than man, all rough edges and sharper tongue.Â
Back then, he wore his New Orleans like armorâcornrows fresh, diamond studs glinting against deep brown skin, tattoos still fresh enough to look angry. That fleur-de-lis inked high on his cheekbone was a declaration, a fuck you to anyone who thought they could box him in. You remember the way his Timberlands kicked up gravel outside your mamaâs house, or how his voice dropped to honey thick "Shhh, girl", when he pulled you close behind the bleachers. Â
And now?
Lord. Thirty one looks sinful on him. The same fleur-de-lis, same tattoos sprawling over corded muscleâbut now they tell stories. The pelican inked over his heart for Louisiana loyalty, the NOLA âtil Iâm cold scripted down his ribs. His cornrows are neater these days, edges crisp where they taper into the nape of his neck, that low beard trimmed just right. Age settled into him like whiskey in oakâricher, deeper. The kind of man who walks into a room and the air changes.
Your sonâAsaudâcarries his name like a blessing. Sixteen and already built like his daddy, all long limbs and broad shoulders threatening to outgrow his jersey. Same sharp cheekbones, same slow, cocky grin when he knows heâs charmed an entire city. But where Onyâs edges stayed hard, Asaud softenedâ mamaâs almond eyes, even your freckles dusting his nose. Â
Those two? Tight as thieves. Asaud trailing Onyankopon like a shadow since he could walkââTeach me that throw, Pops. Let me hold the drill, I got it.âÂ
The way your husbandâs stern âAight, show me some shitâ,â could make Asaud stand taller than any trophy. Â
But latelyâŠÂ Â
Your finger stills on the ring.Â
The creak of Asaudâs bedroom doorâalways shut nowâgrates against your nerves like a splinter you canât dig out. Two weeks straight of it. No more sprawled across the couch with his cleats kicked up, no more leaning over your shoulder while you cooked just to steal a taste. Just that door locked tight as a vault, the muffled bass of his music throbbing through the wood like a pulse you werenât invited to hear. Â
He used to be yoursâyour baby, even when he hit six feet tall. The boy whoâd press his forehead to yours after bad games and whisper, âIâm sorry, Momma,â like your disappointment cut deeper than any coachâs scream.Â
Now? His âCool,â lands like a slap when you ask about practice. His backpack stays slumped by the door, untouched since yesterday. Homework? Done. Dinner? Not hungry.Â
And sleepâLord, the sleeping. You catch him slumped over his desk sometimes when you dare to knock, cheek smushed against his physics textbook, lashes fluttering like heâs fighting to stay awake even in dreams. Other days he doesnât stir âtil noon, blankets twisted around his waist, phone clutched in his palm like it holds answers. Â
Onyankopon misses it. Not because he doesnât careâhell no. That man breathes for his son. But between welding shifts at the shipyardâarms streaked with soot, muscles aching from hauling steelâhe comes home too exhausted to see past Asaudâs âIâm straight, Pops.âÂ
And you? Youâre softer. Always have been. The one who smooths his edges when Onyâs tough love ainât the fix. But latelyâŠÂ Â
When your hand hovers over Asaudâs door? The wood feels colder than it should.
Your phone buzzes against the countertop, pulling you from your thoughts. The screen lights up with a text from Papaâyour husband's contact name forever unchanged since the day he programmed it himself.Â
Shipyard lettinâ us slide early. Gonâ grab some crawfish, swing by Nanaâs for yâall. You want extra butter?Â
A slow smile curls your lips. Youâre halfway through typing your responseâbut thatâs when the screen flashes again. Not another text. Â
An incoming call. Â
Principal GuidryâBonnabel High.Â
ââŠHello?âÂ
âHey, baby.â
Principal Guidryâs voice is honey thick Creole, the same one that used to holler at yâall for cutting class back in tenth grade. Now itâs laced with something heavy.Â
âIâm real sorry to call like thisââ
Your grip tightens.Â
âCherise, whatâs wrong? Is Asaudââ
âHeâs fine.â
She hesitates before correcting, âPhysically, leastways. ButâŠâÂ
A pause. The shuffle of papers.Â
âMy office chair ainât never felt this heavy. Got yoâ boy sittinâ right here lookinâ like he wanna disappear into the floor. Suspended. Three days.âÂ
Suspended? The word doesnât even sound right in the air. Â
âBlack eye and all,â she adds softly. Â
Your breath catches. Asaud? Your gentle giant? Fighting?Â
âWhat happened?âÂ
Cherise exhales hard, âLet him tell it. âNeed you to come get him.âÂ
The kitchen suddenly feels too hot.Â
"Iâm on my way."Â
The tires of your truck screech against cracked asphalt as you fishtail into the Bonnabel High parking lot, heart hammering against your ribs. You should text Onyankoponâshouldâbut even thinking about it makes your stomach twist. The man would burn down the entire Eastbank if he heard his son was hurt, the welding torch still in hand, fury hotter than molten steel. No, better to handle this first. Â
The school looms ahead, its faded maroon bricks and rusted Saints banners looking harsher under the afternoon sun. Thenâmovement. The double doors swing open, and thereâs Asaud, flanked by two security guards, his broad frame hunched like heâs trying to fold into himself. Â
You donât even cut the engine before youâre out the car, bare feet slapping against hot concrete. Â
Your hands flutter over his swollen eye, fingers trembling as you trace the bruise purpling his caramel skin. Itâs deep, angryâsomeone hit him hard. The Creole spills out of you unfiltered, a storm of âQui t'a fait ça?!â and âLet me see, cherââÂ
Asaud exhales sharply, catching your wrists with a gentleness that belies his size. Â
âChill, Momma. Iâm fine.âÂ
One of the guardsâa thick necked man with a walkie crackling at his hipâclears his throat.Â
âMaâam, âyou gotta clear the lot.âÂ
The dismissal in his tone snaps something in you.Â
âClear theâdo you see my childâs face? Who did this? WhoââÂ
âMomma.âÂ
Asaudâs grip firms, steering you back toward the car with a nudge. The kids pressed against the cafeteria windows donât make it any better. He just climbs into the passenger seat without another word, jaw set. Â
And so, you follow.
The air inside the truck is thick with unspoken words, the only sound is the hum of the engine and the occasional rustle of Asaud shifting in his seat. His profile is sharp against the afternoon light streaming through the windowâjaw clenched, lashes loweredâa portrait of quiet defiance. Â
ââŠAre you alright?âÂ
âYeah.â
One word, clipped. Â
âDoes Coach know what happened?â
âNot yet.âÂ
That stings. Asaud loves footballâloves his team, loves the way his daddyâs face lights up when he makes a play. If heâs keeping this from Coach? Something serious mustâve happened.
âTi-Loup⊠are you really okay?â
Little wolfâthe childhood nickname slips out before you can stop it, tender as a bruise. Â
His broad shoulders slump as he leans his temple against the glass. Â
ââŠHead hurts.âÂ
âBaby, if you hit your head, you canât sleepââÂ
Your hand lifts instinctively, reaching to brush his temple, check for feverâbut he tilts away before you can make contact. Your fingers hover in the air for a heartbeat before dropping back to the wheel.Â
The moment the truck rolls to a stop in the driveway, Asaud is already movingâdoor swinging open before you even cut the engine, his long legs carrying him toward the house in quick strides. You barely have time to gather your purse before heâs halfway up the porch steps. Â
âWaitâ"Â
Your scramble after him, bare feet slapping against warm wood. Â
âTi-LoupâAsaud!âÂ
He slows down by a millisecond.Â
âI still need to know what happenedââ
âAinât nothinâ.â
âNothing?âÂ
You frown, âLook at your damn face!"Â
You catch his wrist, forcing him to turnâonly for him to yank free with a force that makes you stumble.Â
âWhy are you being like this? You donâtâyou never avoid me.â
This time when he turns, his eyes arenât just tired. Theyâre cold. Â
âDamn, canât I just breathe without yâall up my ass?âÂ
The words hit like a slap. Â
For a second you just stand there, the sting of them settling deep beneath your skin. Your chest tightensâbut you wonât cry. Not here.Â
âFine.âÂ
The word comes out quieter than you meant. Â
âYou can wait âtil your father gets home to talk about it.â
His whole posture shiftsâshoulders stiffening, eyes wideningâlike the mere mention of that man flipped a switch. Â
âMommaââÂ
But youâre already walking away.
The tension in the house is thick enough to slice with a butter knifeâthe kind of quiet that presses against your eardrums, heavy and oppressive. Asaud's bedroom door hasn't budged since you got home, not even when you knocked softly with a plate of food an hour ago. The plate is still sitting untouched outside his door, grits congealing into sad little lumps. Â
This is how it always goes when Asaud knows Onyankopon is coming home to discipline himâradio silence, tense shoulders, the boy steeling himself like a soldier bracing for battle. Normally you'd bridge the gap, smooth things over with a joke or a hug. But today? The sting of his dismissal lingers like a bruise, and you can't bring yourself to force it. Â
Thenâkeys.Â
The front door swings open, and there he is. Â
Dressed in a navy blue shipyard uniform, his sleeves are rolled up to reveal thick forearms corded with veins, tattoos a roadmap of ink against deep brown skin. A faded Saints cap sits low over his cornrows, shadows accentuating the sharp angles of his faceâthat strong jaw, all the way down to the facial hair coating his chin. The scent of saltwater and engine grease clings to him, mixing with the spicy aroma of the crawfish takeout in his hand.Â
ââWhere my baby at?"Â
His gaze locks onto youâyour bare legs peeking out from under his jersey, your hair still crimped and wild from the kitchen heatâand his glare is all sin.Â
âGoddamn,â he gruntsââYou been walkinâ âround lookinâ like that while Iâm gone? Gonâ make me come over there.âÂ
You huff a weak laugh despite the weight in your chest, watching him flex his fingers like theyâre stiff from gripping a welding torch all day.
âHi, Papa.âÂ
He grunts againâthis one softerâas he stomps toward the kitchen, setting the takeout bag on the counter before peeling off his grease streaked work jacket. The muscles in his back ripple beneath his white tank as he tosses it over a chair, his voice rough but easy as he starts rambling. Â
âShit was a goddamn warzone todayââforeman got on my nerves âbout some pipe measurements, then âthem Lafitte boys tried to cut in line at Nanaâs.âÂ
He pops the lid off the crawfish, steam billowing up as he scowlsââLike I ainât gonâ notice they trynaâ snake my order.âÂ
You lean against the counter, watching him. Normally youâd interjectâtease him about being territorial over seasoned crustaceansâbut your mind is still tangled up in the quiet rage of your sonâs dismissal. Â
Onyankopon glances up, finally catching your silence. His dark brows furrow. Â
âWhatâs wrong witâ you?âÂ
You pick at the hem of the jersey. Â
ââHad⊠a day.âÂ
He murmurs, âIâm knowinâ, Mama. A nigga glad to be home. âBeen thinkinâ boutâ a shower, rubbinâ on yoâ feetâWhere âSaud at? Lilâ nigga better be hungry âcause I got extra sausage just for hiââÂ
âHeâs suspended.âÂ
The moment the words leave your lips, Onyankopon goes stillâunnaturally still. Like every muscle in his body locks down at once. The air in the kitchen shifts, thickens. You can practically see the switch flip behind his eyesâthe shift from husband to father, from easy laughter to cold calculation. Â
âFuck you mean suspended?â  Â
You exhale, folding your arms across your chest, suddenly aware of how small you feel beneath his gaze. Â
ââŠI don't know, Ony. He wouldn't tell me."
His nostrils flareâonce, twiceâbefore his dark eyes scan your face, picking up the tension in your brow, the way your fingers clutch the jersey fabric too tight. Â
â"Y'all got into it?"Â
âHe didn't want to talk to me."Â
A muscle in his temple jumps. Â
âHe ain't got no choice but to talk to you."
His voice is low, finalââAin't no option."Â
For a moment, silence stretches between youâthick and loadedâbefore his calloused fingers hook gently under your chin, tilting your face up to his. His thumb brushes your bottom lip, gruff but tender. Â
âGimmeâ yoâ mouth first."Â
You exhale shakily, leaning in. His lips are warm, firm against yoursâbrief but groundingâbefore he pulls back just enough to press his forehead to yours. His breath is hot against your skin, smelling faintly of peppermint and the crawfish he'd been handling. Â
And thenâ Â
"ASAUD!"Â
His roar shakes the damn house. No hesitation, no preamble.Â
âGet yoâ ass out here.âÂ
You flinch, knowing how quickly Asaud heard him. Even through walls. Even through attitude. Â
Silence. Â
Thenâfootsteps. Slow. Reluctant.Â
Asaud appears in the doorway, broad shoulders slumped just slightly, hands shoved deep in his hoodie pockets. His eyes flicker upâjust onceâto meet his father's gaze before lowering again, careful not to show outright defiance but unable to hold the intensity of that stare for long. Â
Onyankopon doesn't speak at first. Just looks at him, eyes raking over the swollen skin, the purple black bruise blooming beneath his sonâs eye. Thenâmovement.Â
His hand shoots out, calloused fingers gripping Asaudâs chin with a firmness that isnât rough but leaves no room for resistance. He tilts his face toward the light, inspecting the damage with the clinical precision of a man whoâs seenâand dealtâhis share of blows. Â
ââYou alright?"
Asaudâs throat bobs. Â
âYes, sir."Â
Onyankoponâs grip doesnât loosen. Â
âThen why ain't you tell yoâ momma what happened?"Â
Asaudâs jaw flexes beneath his fatherâs hold, his voice barely above a murmur. Â
The Creole rolls off his tongue sharply, and Asaudâs chin lifts almost immediatelyâeyes snapping to meet his father. The apology spills out before he can stop itâ Â
âWhatchuâ apologizinâ for if you ainât say nothinâ?"Â Â
The silence in the kitchen turns electric, thick enough to choke on. Onyankoponâs grip loosens just enough to turn Asaudâs face toward youânot rough, but insistent.Â
âmâWhat he say to you?"Â
âHe saidâ" Your voice wavers, but you force it steady. â'Damn, can I breathe without yâall being up my ass?'"Â Â
Onyankopon looks back to Asaud.Â
âSo we âup yoâ assâ now?"Â Â
He steps into his son's space, forcing his head up again with a rough tap of two fingers beneath his chin. Â
"âYou think you grown enough to talk to yoâ momma like that?â
Asaudâs lips partâbut no sound comes out. Â
âI asked you a question."Â
âNo, sir," Asaud mutters, jaw tight. Â
âNah, seeâyou acted like it."
 Onyankoponâs voice sharpens, cutting like a bladeââYou got one mother. One. The woman who carried yoâ big headed ass for nine months, who still make yoâ plate first even when yoâ dumbass beinâ ungrateful. And âthis how you talkinâ to her?"Â
The words land like bricks. Â
"Look at her."Â
Asaudâs eyes flicker to you once, then darting away again. Â
âSoft as fuck witâ you," Onyankopon continuesââAlways been. âYou sick? She up all night. âYou hungry? She cookinâ before you even ask. You ainât just disrespectinâ yo mommaâyou disrespectingâ my wife.âÂ
Asaud swallows hard, his shoulders tightening like heâs bracing for impact. Onyankopon doesnât let up though, drilling into him with a stare that could crack concrete. Â
âApologize."Â
âIâm sorry, Momma."Â
Your chest tightens.Â
âIâm not upset, baby," you murmur, âIt just hurt my feelingsâI wanna know whatâs going on, okay? Thatâs all.âÂ
Finally, Asaud exhales, defeated. Â
"...I fought Jamal."Â
That catches both of you off guard. Jamal? His wide receiverâhis best friend?Â
Onyankoponâs brows shoot up, "The hell for?âÂ
â...Cheer team girl."Â
The silence that follows Asaud's confession is deafening.Â
âSo you gonâ fuck up yoâ throwinâ handâlose yoâ scholarshipâover some girl?âÂ
The words come out low, measured, but they hit like a sledgehammer. You step forward, hands lifting slightlyâ Â
âHey, letâs justâ"Â
âWho the girl?"Â
Asaud shifts uncomfortably, shoulders rolling back like heâs preparing for war. Â
"Sabine."Â
âShe âbad like yoâ momma?"Â
âOnyankopon!âÂ
He doesnât even glance your way, his glare still locked onto Asaud. Â
âWhy you callinâ my name?" âHis voice drops dangerouslyââThat gottaâ be the reason. Otherwise, IÂ need yoâ son to explain why he fuckinâ up all his opportunities over some bullshit."
âIt ainât bullshit!" Asaudâs voice booms, raw and defensiveââSheâs different.âÂ
Onyankopon doesnât laughâdoesnât even smirk. His expression stays stone-cold as he steps forward, closing the gap between them with a single stride. Â
âThatâs what you thinkinâ right now,â he growls, âBut I promiseâshe ainât. You thinkinâ bout some pussy, and that ainât gonâ get you in the NFL or keep yoâ wide receiver."Â
He jabs a thick finger against Asaudâs chestâhard.Â
âYoâ head loose, and I ainât raisinâ no kids outside of you."Â
Asaudâs chest heaves, his nostrils flaring as his temper flares hotter. Thenâ Â
âYou were younger than me when you knocked Momma up.âÂ
The moment those words leave Asaudâs mouthâsharp, deliberate, meant to cutâyour stomach drops. Your lips part in quiet disbelief, brows knitting together as hurt flashes hot behind your ribs. Â
âAsaud!"Â
But Onyankopon is already movingâfast, too fastâhis massive hand snatching the front of Asaudâs hoodie, yanking him forward until their faces are inches apart. Asaudâs breath comes ragged, shoulders rising and falling under the strain of his fatherâs grip, but he doesnât fight it. Â
"You right."Â
A pauseâsharp, loaded. Â
âHere I am sixteen years laterâstill bustinâ my ass for you the moment I âknockedâ yoâ momma up."
His fingers tighten in the fabric, knuckles whiteningâ" I donât ever regret havinâ you, and if I can prevent you from goinâ through the same shit me and yoâ momma handled? Thatâs what Immaâ do."Â
Asaud swallows hard, his throat bobbing. Â
"Ionâ give a fuck âbout no lilâ ass girl," Onyankopon rasps, âOr yoâ feelings just âcause you on some puppy love shit. Football. School. Thatâs yoâ priorities."Â
Your fingers curl into Onyankoponâs sleeve, tugging gentlyââBaby⊠let him go."Â
Asaudâs voice cracks as he mutters, âPopsâ"Â
"Popâs nothinâ."Â
Onyankopon shoves him backânot hard enough to hurt, but firm enough to make his point. He spits something in Creoleâlow, gutturalâbefore jerking his chin toward the kitchen. Â
âGo eat the food yoâ momma cooked."Â
The moment Onyankopon issued that command, Asaud's shoulders slumpedâdefeated but still simmering with that same stubborn fire his father carried in his bones. His jaw clenched tight, eyes flashing with frustration before he turned on his heel, storming down the hallway. The slam of his bedroom door echoed through the house like a gunshot, rattling the frames on the walls. Â
Onyankopon didnât even flinch. Â
âDonât be slamminâ no doors in this bitch you canât pay to fix.âÂ
And all you could do was sigh, pressing your fingertips to your forehead as the weight of the afternoon settled over you like a heavy blanket. Â
Hours later, the house was eerily quiet, the kind of stillness that only comes when two prideful men refuse to be the first to break. Nightfall crept in, painting the walls in long shadows as you moved through the dimly lit kitchen, plating a heaping serving of shrimp and gritsâstill warm, just the way he liked it. Â
But Onyankopon was nowhere to be found. Â
Not in the living room, not in the bedroomâso you already knew where he was. Â
Stepping onto the porch, the humid Louisiana air wrapped around you like a second skin. The cicadas sang their nightly chorus, the scent of magnolias thick in the breeze. And there he wasâshirtless, his sweatpants hanging low on his hips as his massive frame crouched near the steps. Â
The metal bowl in his hands rattled impatiently as he shook it, muttering under his breath. Â
ââWhat you doinâ, Papa?âÂ
He didnât even glance up, his deep voice gruff with irritation. Â
ââŠTrynaâ feed this damn cat âSaud be so worried about.âÂ
A soft mrrow sounded from the bushes, and a scruffy orange tabby slinked out, eyeing Onyankopon warily before darting forward to swipe at the bowl. Â
Of course he was out hereâstill pissed, still stubbornâbut making sure his sonâs stray was fed. Â
Some things never changed.
The stray catâscruffy, wide-eyed, and perpetually suspiciousâpadded cautiously along the porch railing, its tail flicking with a mix of curiosity and defiance. It sniffed the air, nostrils twitching as it scented Onyankopon instead of Asaudâs familiar presence. With a deliberate hmph, it turned its head away from the bowl, pretending disinterest even as its stomach growled loud enough for you both to hear. Â
You couldnât help the giggle that slipped past your lips. Â
"Youâre mean to him tooâthatâs why he wonât eat."Â
Onyankopon scowled, shaking the bowl harder, the dry kibble rattling like a warning. Â
âYeah? I take care of his ungrateful ass too."Â
You sighed dramatically, leaning against the doorframe as you murmuredââThe Tin Man does have a heart, it seems."
Onyankopon shot you a look before gruffly calling out, "Aight, Tigerâcome get this damn food."*Â Â
âHis name is Tango.âÂ
âSame shit."Â Â
Finally the cat hopped down, sauntering over with an air of reluctant grace. It rubbed its entire body along Onyankoponâs bare calf, purring loud enough to vibrate the porch boards beneath him. Â
âYeah, yeah," he grumbled, nudging the bowl closer with his footââGonâ head."Â
You stepped forward then, bringing the plate of shrimp and grits closer, the rich aroma mixing with the warm night air. Â
âYou need to eat too, baby.âÂ
Onyankoponâs fingers then curl gently around your throatânot tight, but there, possessive and grounding. He dropped a series of rough, smacking kisses against your lips, each one firm and fleeting before he finally took the plate with his free hand. Â
âAight," he muttered, settling onto the wooden stairs. Â
The cat ate. Your husband ate. Now, you could have the real conversation youâd been holding off on.
You settle onto the wooden steps behind him, the worn planks creaking softly under your weight as you wrap your legs around his waist, molding your body against the warm expanse of his back. Heâs hot to the touchâalways running like a furnaceâand you bury your face between his shoulder blades, inhaling the faint lingering scent of his cologne as he eats.Â
"Did you check on your son?"Â
The fork scrapes against the plate as he chews, his shoulders lifting in a half-shrug.
âNah. But I know you did."Â
A gruff pause, ââHe still alive? Limbs all attached?"
You hum, fingers trailing lazily through the neat rows of his cornrows, tracing the patterns like youâve done a thousand times before.
 âFunny. Heâs asleep.âÂ
Silence stretches between you, thick with unsaid things. Then, softlyâ Â
âYou do know you were wrong, right?"Â
âWhich part? âCause I ainât wrong about a lot of shit."Â Â
You exhale through your nose, leaning into his shoulder as you murmur, âTi tĂšt di."
 Stubborn man.
He doesnât respond, just keeps eatingâhis jaw working methodically, the muscles in his back flexing beneath your touch. You press a kiss to the nape of his neck before continuingâ Â
âRemember when we found out I was pregnant? How scared you were?"
Silence. Â
You then whisper, âHeâs got an amazing head on his shoulders, Papa. Just like you. Maybe...heâs serious about this girl."Â
âHeâs sixteen.âÂ
âAnd we were fifteenâsneakinâ into my mommaâs house when she went to sleep, havinâ unprotected sex, and then what happened?âÂ
He leans back into you with a rough huff, his head tilting just enough to bump against yours.
âYou tryna be funny.âÂ
âIâm not."
 Your fingers trail down to his jaw, tracing the line of his beard as you sayââOur parents kicked us out, and weâve been on our own since then."
The silence between you grows heavier, thick with the weight of memories neither of you ever really talk aboutânights spent sleeping in his beat up Chevy, the way his voice had cracked when his own father slammed the door in his face, the quiet tears you'd wiped away when your mama called you a disgrace. Â
You press a kiss to his shoulder, soft as a prayer.Â
"But we knew our little wolf was special, didnât we?â Â
A beat.Â
âYeah."Â
You smile against his skin, âAsaud is yours, but heâs not you. Heâs not gonna make the mistakes we didâand shuttinâ him down like our parents did to us? Itâd be unfair.â Â
Onyankopon exhalesâlong, slowâhis head tipping back against your shoulder.
Your voice is barely above a whisper, soft yet carrying the weight of years as you murmur, "Give him the grace we never got."Â
Your husband goes quiet. The cicadas hum in the thick night air, the stray cat now curled on the porch railing, licking its paws as if amused by the whole scene. Â
Thenâ Â
ââGuess I ain't have to yank his ass up like that."Â
The admission comes out gruff, and you can't help the faint smile that tugs at your lips. With a playful flick to the side of his head, you tease, "Donât be puttinâ hands on my baby no more."Â
Before you can blink, his massive arm hooks behind you, tugging you effortlessly onto his lap. You let out a surprised squeak of laughter, instantly melting into the familiar warmth of his holdâhis thick thighs beneath you, the hard plane of his chest pressed flush against your back. His heat engulfs you, his scent wrapping around your senses like a second skin. Â
You nuzzle into the crook of his neck, fingers tracing the shell of his ear as you murmur, "But hey⊠we didnât do so bad, did we?"Â
His arms tighten around your waist, lips brushing your templeâ"Nah. We did better.â Â
You giggle as he kisses you, slow at first, then deeper, hotterâyour tongue stroking his with a suddenly filthy, practiced familiarity. You pull back just enough to whisper against his lips, ââWore your jersey just for youâŠ"Â
His hand cups your jaw, thumb brushing your cheekbone as he groans, half-amused, half-exasperated.Â
âYou know Iâll never say noâbut a nigga tired as hell."Â
You gasp in mock offense, pulling back to squint at him.
 âOh, so you can yoke up my childâ but no dick for me?"Â
That deep, rich chuckle vibrates against your ribs as he leans back against the porch railing, pulling you tighter against him.
âDaddy ainât Superman. One city at a time."
You blow out an exaggerated huff, lips pursed in playful frustration as you mutter, âYou're annoying."Â
âAnd you horny."Â
You cross your arms over your chest but sink deeper into his embrace anyway, the steady thump of his heartbeat against your back. After a beat, you nudge him with your elbow, voice softening.
 â...You love me?"Â
For a moment he says nothingâjust holds you there in the quiet, southern night humming around you both.Â
Then, sweet as molassesââWhen don't I?"Â
And yeah. That was your answer. Â
The next morning, Asaud wakes up earlyâhis body already braced for a day of grueling chores and another lecture still hanging heavy in the air. He tiptoes down the hallway, bare feet quiet against the hardwood, expecting silence. Instead? The rich, savory scent of butter, garlic, and smoked sausage hits him the moment he steps near the kitchen. Â
He pauses. Frowns. Â
Spread across the countertop is a full Louisiana-style breakfastâcrispy-edged fried eggs, golden-brown grits swimming in cheese, spicy Cajun hash, and fluffy buttermilk biscuits still steaming from the oven. His favorite.Â
Confusion knits his brows as he steps further inside, only to freeze at the sight of you and Onyankopon standing near the stove. Â
Onyankopon's massive frame is leaned into yours, his head tilted slightly as your fingers glide through his cornrows, re-braiding the edges with careful precision. You're both talkingâvoices low, words unintelligible from where he standsâbut the ease between you is undeniable. Â
Then you glance up, spotting him lingering in the doorway.
 "Morninâ, baby," you greet, smilingââHowâd you sleep?"Â
Asaud shifts awkwardly, eyes flicking between the food and his father's impassive face.Â
â...Good," he muttersââWhat's all this?"
âYoâ momma insisted on makinâ yoâ favorite breakfast," Onyankopon grumbles, voice rough with morning fatigue. Â
You flick his ear.Â
He then huffs, âAight, I told her to."Â
Youâre then crossing the kitchen toward Asaud, your bare feet padding softly against the tile. His eyes flicker with wariness, still bruised from yesterdayâs heated exchangeâthough the mark looks lighter now, less angry. You reach up, fingers ghosting over the spot as you murmur, âWant momma to ice it for you?"Â Â
Asaud ducks his head slightly, but shakes itââNo maâam, Iâm aight."Â
You smile, nudging him toward the table where his plate waits.Â
âEat âfore it gets cold."Â
Hesitant, he sinks into his chair, poking at the food before glancing between you both suspiciously.Â
ââŠYâall poisoned my food or sumâ?"Â
"Ainât I tell you he was finnaâ think that?"
âHush, Ony.â
Your voice softens then as you turn back to Asaud.Â
âWe had aâŠrevelation last night... and we just want you to knowâwe love you. All of you. Every stubborn, hardheaded, beautiful part."Â
The kitchen falls silentâsave for the sizzle of grease in the skillet, the hum of the ceiling fan. Â
You take a deep breath, clasping your hands together excitedly. The morning sunlight spills across the kitchen table as you announce, âMe and Daddy have been feeling a little disconnected from you lately, so we came up with an ideaâFamily Date! Yes Edition.âÂ
Asaud blinks, fork hovering mid air over his grits.
ââŠYes Edition?â
You beam, âWhatever you want to do todayâno matter whatâwe have to say yes to!"Â
Asaud's frown deepens, but there's a flicker of something mischievous in his gaze now.Â
âWhatever I want?"
You nod enthusiastically. On the other hand, Onyankopon rubs his temple as he mutters, âMy damn wallet achinâ already."Â
âThe sky is the limit, baby. Whatâd you wanna do?"Â
For a long moment, Asaud chews thoughtfully, brow furrowed as he considers his options. Then? It hits him all at once.Â
âAight, bet.âÂ
He sits up straighter as he lists off, âFirstâwe hittinâ up Bayou Guns for some target practice. Then, monster truck rally ticketsâfront row. After that, âwhole rack of ribs from Big Mikeâs Smokehouse, extra spicy. And,ââhe pauses dramatically, eyes flicking to his fatherââPops, you gotta let me drive the truck today."Â
Onyankopon almost chokes on his coffee.Â
âHell nah Iâm not!"Â
You level the look at Onyankoponâthe one that makes his jaw twitch because he knows heâs already lost. His dark eyes flick from you to Asaudâs hopeful expression before he exhales sharply through his nose, resigned. Â
âItâs yoâ day, Papa. Gonâ head."Â
Asaudâs grin is immediate, lighting up his entire face like a kid on Christmas morning.
 This was gonna be an adventure.Â
The day starts with everyone scrambling to get readyâyou werenât exactly thrilled about spending hours immersed in testosterone fueled chaos, but the thought of just being with your boys? Had you smiling despite yourself. Â
Onyankopon emerges looking stupidly fineâhis black long sleeve clinging to every defined ridge of muscle, the ink snaking down his arms and neck peeking out from beneath the fabric. Camo pants hang low on his hips, black Dunks laced tight on his feet, and those damn chains glinting against his chest like he stepped straight out of some high end streetwear ad. His faceâGodâthose sharp tattoos along his cheekbones contrasting his deep brown skin, that signature donât fuck with me glare permanently etched into his expression. Â
You keep poking at it as you all get ready, making him swat your hand away with a grunt. Â
Asaud mirrors his energy effortlesslyâhoodie layered over his own fitted tee, shoes swapped for something sleeker, but the same vibe radiating off him. Like father, like son. Â
You press kisses to both their cheeks before stepping back, smoothing down the backless top and capris hugging your curvesâclassy enough to turn heads, erotic enough to have Onyankoponâs fingers twitching. His dark gaze drops to your chest where your nipples press visibly against the fabric. Â
ââYou cold?â he rumbles, dragging a single fingertip over one peaked bud. Â
You pout, swatting his hand awayââItâs just chilly!"Â
Now, here was the card ride. Pure chaos as youâd imaginedâOnyankopon gripping the passenger side handle like he was seconds from yanking the wheel himself every time Asaud hit the gas too hard or took a turn a little too sharp.
âNigga, I swearâif you donât slow down, Immaâ have you pull over right here and make you ride in the back like the toddler you actinâ like."Â
Asaud just smirked, glancing at you in the rearview before purposefully tapping the accelerator againâjust to watch his fatherâs eye twitch. Â
The gun range parking lot was packed, buzzing with the low hum of engines and the occasional pop of gunfire in the distance. Stepping out of the truck, you immediately felt that familiar dread creep inânot from the firearms, but from the eyes. The looks. The inevitable moment when someone would glance between you, Onyankopon, and Asaud, their brows furrowing as they tried to piece together your dynamic. Â
Were you his older siblings? Friends? Â
Thenâthe shock when they realizedâOh. You were his mother.Â
Being a parent had never forced you to dress older than you were, never dulled your vibrancy to fit some matronly mold. Even now, trailing behind Onyankopon and Asaudâboth towering over you, broad shouldered and imposingâyou looked every bit the effortlessly sensual, youthful woman you were. Your deep merlot Coach purse swung at your hip, charms jingling with each step, your jet black curls bouncing against your back. Meanwhile, Onyankopon moved like he owned the ground beneath him, all quiet power and simmering dominanceâa kingpin with his diamond in tow.Â
The inside smelled like gunpowder, leather, and faintly of the fried catfish wafting from the snack bar in the corner. The air was thick with humidity, clinging to your skin as soon as you stepped insideâsharp cracks of gunfire echoed off the concrete walls, making your shoulders tense involuntarily. Each shot sounded like a miniature explosionâtoo loud, too suddenâand you instinctively pressed closer to Onyankopon's side, fingers tightening around his hand as if anchoring yourself to him.
The man behind the register gruffly asked, âWhatâchu wanna shoot with today?âÂ
Asaudâs eyes flickered toward the glass case displaying an array of firearmsâsome sleek and modern, others heavy and intimidating. His gaze lingered on the biggest oneâa monstrous, black tactical shotgun that looked like it could knock a grown man flat on his back. Â
Onyankopon didnât even blink, âThat one."
Asaud's eyes widened, âForrealâ?"
âYoâ day, right?"
You retreated to the far back of the room, perched on a worn leather bench like a reluctant cheerleader. Your knees pressed together, hands folded in your lap as you watched them gear upâear protection, gloves, safety glasses. Â
Onyankopon looked illegalâhis black sleeves rolled up to reveal thick, tattooed forearms as he handled the firearm with the kind of casual expertise that made your stomach flip. The range owner walked him through the basicsânot that he needed itâbut Onyankopon nodded along anyway, his deep voice rumbling something low in response. Â
The sight before you had your lips parting slightlyâOnyankopon lifting that heavy shotgun like it weighed nothing, his massive frame balanced with effortless precision. The first BOOM of his test shot rattled through the private room, the recoil absorbed effortlessly by his broad shoulders. Smoke curled from the barrel as he exhaled, lowering the gun and turning to Asaud with that same unreadable expressionâexcept you knew him, knew the subtle pride in the tilt of his chin, the patience in his stance as he prepared to teach his son the way his own father had taught him. Â
âRegarde,â he murmured, shifting fluidly between English and Creole as he adjusted Asaudâs grip.Â
âFirme, yeah? Shoulder tightânon, like this.âÂ
His large hands guided Asaud's calloused fingers, pressing the younger manâs palm flush against the stock.
And just like thatâAsaud shifted. His spine straightened, shoulders squaring under his fatherâs approval. The next shot he took wasnât perfectâbut it was strong, the kickback barely rocking him as the target downrange splintered at the edge. Â
âDecent,â Onyankopon conceded, âFor yoâ first try.âÂ
Your hands shot up in excited applause, curls tumbling over your freckled cheeks as you cheered, âYay!ââyou then blew a stubborn strand out of your face with a playful huff, watching as Asaud wandered over to stand beside you, wiping his palms on his hoodie. Â
"Gonâ head, Pops," he called out, nodding toward the range. Â
Onyankopon stepped up, and suddenly, the gun in his hands wasnât just a weapon. It was an extension of him. Each shot boomed like thunder, paper targets shredding into confetti under his relentless precision. He moved like liquidâfluid, deadlyâtwisting the gun with an assassinâs grace, reloading without breaking rhythm. The sheer power radiating off him had your pulse thrumming in your throat. Â
Asaud whistled low under his breath. Â
âAight, Sergeant! âWhere you learn that from?"Â
âHe wanted to be one, actually.âÂ
Asaud turned to you, brow arched.Â
"Pops wanted to be in the army?â  Â
Your gaze lingered on your husband, watching the way his shoulders flexed as he fired off another perfect shotâthe way his focus never wavered, even now. Â
"Higher up in the Navy, actually," you murmured. ââWanted to follow in his fatherâs path⊠before I got pregnant with you."Â
A beat of silence. Thenâ Â
âWhat happened?"Â
Your fingers toyed with the charms on your purse, but your eyes stayed on Onyankopon. You exhale, âHe disowned him. Hasnât spoken to his father since I was in my first trimester."Â
The words hung heavy between you. Â
âHe wouldâve found a way to go overseas," you continued softlyâ"But he didnât want to leave me. Or you. âWanted to watch you grow up."Â
Asaudâs voice was quieter now, âSoâŠhe never went for what he really wanted?âÂ
You turned to him then, smilingâreally smilingâdespite the ache in your chest. Â
âYou became our first priority the moment I held you in my arms, baby.â
Your voice dipped into honeyed warmth, "And you cried, cried, cried.âÂ
A dreamy little smile tugged at your lips, the memory of tiny fists gripping your finger, Onyankopon's unreadable mask cracking just once as he pressed his lips to your sweaty forehead in that delivery room. Â
You blinked back to the present, tilting your head toward Asaud.Â
âYour father can beâŠdifficult," you admitted, âBut know thisâhe loves you more than anything in this world. Everything he does, every hard lesson...it's because he wants everything for you."Â
Asaud scuffed his shoe against the concrete floor, "I know that, Momma.âÂ
Just then, Onyankopon's shadow fell over you both, smelling like gunpowder and that stupidly expensive cologne he only wore on special occasions.Â
âYâall talkinâ âbout me?" he rumbled, slinging an arm around your shoulders. Â
You batted your lashes up at him innocentlyââJust tellinâ our son where he gets his handsome features from."Â
Onyankopon's nostrils flared, âDonât be flirtinâ with me in front of our child, girl," he muttered, the heat in his low voice betraying him. Â
Your giggle spilled freely as you leaned even more into him, âToo late."Â
The monster truck show was deafening, and entirely too boyish for your liking. You spent most of it grimacing, and hiding behind Onyankoponâs shoulder each time you thought you were gonna witness a crime scene explosion. From the activities today? You were sure to be rewarded by this meal.Â
The scent of hickory smoke and sizzling meat hits you the moment you step into Big Mikeâs Smokehouseâa cacophony of laughter, clinking glasses, and bluesy guitar riffs pouring from the jukebox in the corner. The worn wooden booth creaks as you slide in beside Onyankopon, your thighs pressing together beneath the checkered tablecloth. Across from you, Asaud taps his fingers against the menu, though all three of you already know what youâre orderingâextra spicy ribs, collard greens swimming in pot liquor, and cornbread so buttery it melts on contact. Â
Your fingers trace idle circles over Onyankoponâs knuckles where his hand rests in your lap, his rough skin warm against your touch. You take a breath, leaning into his shoulder before murmuring, âDid you enjoy yourself today, baby?"Â
Asaud nods, a rare softness in his expression.Â
âI did. âPreciate yâall."Â
You smile, cheeks flushingâbut then you straighten slightly, catching Onyankoponâs eye.Â
âWellânow that weâve playedâletâs have a serious conversation, yeah?"Â
Asaudâs shoulders tense almost imperceptibly, but he nods.
âYes, maâam."Â
âJamal," Onyankopon starts, âWhat really happened between yâall?"Â
Asaud exhales through his nose, dragging a hand over his locs.
 "IâŠalways liked Sabine. Jamal knew that. âStill tried to get at her."Â
You hum, tilting your head.
 âI donât doubt sheâd like you, baby. Butââ You choose your words carefully, "Did she seemâŠresponsive to your feelings? Or does she actually like Jamal?"Â
Asaudâs jaw works before he mutters, âShe do like me. âTold me my dreads was cool last week."Â
Onyankopon blinks. Slowly.Â
Then turns to you, one brow archedâââThatâs how the lilâ girls get niggasâ attention?"
Your shoulders lift in a helpless shrug, âI guess?âÂ
Asaud frowns, âWhy yâall actinâ like confused old people right now?âÂ
You bite your lip, exhaling through your noseââIâm sorry, baby. Yâallâs generation is justâŠdifferent in courting each other. The only way you know how is toââÂ
Thenâit hits you. Like a freight train. Â
Your spine stiffens. Eyes widening, you lean halfway across the table, gripping Asaudâs hands tight enough to make him blink. Â
âAsaud?âÂ
He freezes.
 âLawd, Momma. You scarinâ me. Whatâs wrong?âÂ
âThisâŠSabine girlâŠyou havenâtâŠ?âÂ
âHavenât what?â Â
Onyankopon leans back, raising a brow.Â
Asaudâs gaze darts between you both before he huffs, âContrary to stereotypes with beinâ quarterbackâyes, MommaâIâm still a virgin. Damn.âÂ
The breath youâd been holding whooshes out of you. Your head drops forward, curls spilling over your shoulders as you clutch your chest.Â
âThank God! Okay, I justâŠwhew,â You fan yourself dramatically, âI almost fainted.âÂ
Asaud shifts in his seat, rubbing the back of his neck before he drops the bombshell.Â
âDespite yâall thinkinâ my head is loose, I plan on waitinâ âtil marriage."Â
Onyankopon watches, amusement lacing his voice as he mutters, âShe finnaâ start speakinâ in tonguesâdonât say shit else, boy."
You're still catching your breath from the emotional high when you lean forward, smoothing Asaudâs shirt before saying with earnest warmth, âOkayâwell, although thatâs amazing to hearâdonât be afraid to ask questions, baby. I know sex education isnât the best in schools, soâŠanything in that aspect, you know you can always come to us, right?"Â
Onyankopon clears his throat, "I think you gotta leave that conversation for me, shawtyâ"Â
You wave a hand dismissively, âWeâre supposed to be bonding! Donât leave me out of it.âÂ
Onyankopon exhales through his nose. He then says, ââYou right. Yoâ pops an open book, âSaud.â
Asaudâs gaze darts between you both, hesitating.Â
Then?Â
âDoes the pull out method really work?"Â
Your mouth drops. Of all the questionsâ Â
Heat floods your cheeks as your brain short-circuits. Before you can even think of a diplomatic answer, Onyankopon leans back, arms crossed, and says completely deadpanâ
âIonâ know. I nut in yoâ momma everytimeâ"Â
âOHMYGODââ
 You shriek in Creole, âPouki ou fĂš sa nan piblik?!â
âSo how come ionâ got a sibling?â
Youâre so disturbed by Onyankopon who nonchalantly begins eating his food, taking a moment to process Asaudâs other question. You take a slow breath, fingers tightening around your napkin.Â
"I got my tubes tied after I had you, baby. Youâre my lifelineâbut it was a horrible pregnancy."
 Your hand drifts unconsciously to your lower stomach, remembering the months of bed rest, the way your ankles swelled like overripe fruit. Â
Then, shooting Onyankopon a look, you point a stern finger at AsaudââHad your father answered educationally, you wouldâve known why we can have unprotected sexâbut you should not! Condoms. Every. Time."
Onyankopon interjects, "Unless yâall in love. Then? âMake yoâ wife a twinkieâ.âÂ
Your fingers clutch desperately at the diner table as you squeak, âLetâs move on!ââvoice pitching high like a deflating balloon. You clear your throat, smoothing a hand over your top as you force yourself back into Mom Mode.Â
âWhat do you really like about this girl?â
Asaud pauses, staring down at his half-eaten ribs as if the bones might spell out the answer for him. For a moment, thereâs nothing but the clatter of silverware and Big Mikeâs raspy laugh booming from the kitchen.Â
âShe got thisâŠquiet way âbout her," he starts, voice lower than usual.Â
âLike, she donât gotta laugh loud to be heard. And when she do smileâ" He shakes his head, a faint grin tugging at his lipsââMan, itâs like she savinâ it just for you. Makes you feelâŠspecial, I guess."
You reach across the table, squeezing his wrist.Â
âThatâs sweet, baby. Real sweet. ButâŠ" You hesitate, exchanging a glance with Onyankopon before continuing gently, âAre you willing to pursue this girl and lose your best friend over it?"
Asaudâs jaw hardens, âJamal clearly ainât my friend."Â
Onyankopon shakes his head, âNah. Heâs a boy on some puppy love shitâjust like you.â
You now rub at Asaudâs knuckles.
âBaby, think about it. Jamal stayed at our house more nights than you did sometimes. Went to your cousins cookouts, helped your daddy fix up the carâ"Â
âEven came to yoâ grandmaâs funeral," Onyankopon cuts in, dead seriousââThatâs family shit."Â
Your voice softens, âA real friend wouldâve stepped back the moment he knew how you felt. But love makes people act stupidâespecially at yâallâs age. You sure this girl worth torching that bridge?"Â
Asaudâs throat bobs.
The dinerâs chatter fades into a dull hum as Asaud sits back, shoulders slumped beneath the weight of his thoughts. His fingers fiddle with the condensation on his sweet tea glass, tracing idle circles as he chews on his bottom lipâthe same nervous habit heâs had since he was a toddler. Â
Then, finally, he exhales sharply through his nose. Â
âA girl ainât finnaâ have me lose my wide receiver," he mutters, shaking his head.Â
âBut that âdonât mean I ainât got feelinâs, Momma."
He thinks on his words for a moment.Â
Asaudâs voice then drops lower, âA lot of my friendsâ parents donât get alongâdivorced, fightinâ, separated, only cordial âcause they made a mistake back in the day. I know I clown on yâallâs gushinessâŠâ he continues, waving a hand at the way youâre still practically draped over Onyankoponâs arm, âButâŠIâm glad I got parents that love each other. And I justâ" He hesitates, eyes flickering down before meeting yours againââI want somethinâ like that. Somethinâ real."Â
A whimpery giggle escapes you as tears well in your eyesâhot, stingingâbefore spilling over. Â
âShit, here âshe go," Onyankopon mutters, already rubbing at your hip affectionately.
Your heart swells so big it feels like it might burst right out of your chest. You slide out of the booth in one fluid motion, your hands cupping your son's faceârough stubble scratching your palms, his locs soft against your forearms.
âDo you know how much we love you, sweet boy?"Â
He rolls his eyes, but thereâs no real heat behind it. Â
âIâm knowinâ, Momma."Â Â
Then, quieterââLookâŠIâm sorry for beinâ mean to you yesterday. AndâŠ"
He glances at Onyankopon whoâs watching with his usual stoic expression, though his dark eyes hold a warmth only you and Asaud ever really seeââSorry to you too, Pops."Â
Thatâs all it takes. Â
You squeak, pulling him into a crushing embrace, smothering his face in kissesâhis forehead, his cheeks, the tip of his noseâwhile rapid-fire Creole endearments spill from your lips like a prayer. Â
âMon petit roi! Mon cĆur! Bondye beni ou, mwen renmen ou tout bagay!"Â
My little king ! God bless you, I love you with all my heart !
Asaud groans, half-heartedly trying to squirm awayâ"Damn, MommaâI said I was sorryâ"Â
âNon, non! Mwen pa fini ak ou!"Â
Iâm not done with you!Â
Onyankopon watches, shaking his headâbut when Asaud shoots him a pleading look, he just smirks and shrugs. Â
âTake yoâ medicine, boy."
Your bottom lip juts out in an exaggerated pout as you turn pleading eyes toward Onyankopon, fingers still tangled in Asaud's locs. Â
"Be sweet, Papa!" you urge, batting your lashes dramaticallyââTell your son you love himânone of that manly grunting stuff!"Â
Onyankopon exhales through his nose, but after a beat, his deep voice rumblesâlow, rough, but undeniably fondâ Â
âI love you, âSaud. Even when you actinâ dumb."
Asaud snorts, but the corner of his mouth lifts as he mutters back, âLove you too, Pops."Â
You sigh happily, finally releasing Asaudâonly to immediately eye his half-finished ribs.Â
âBaby, lemme get a bite ofâ"Â
âNuh uh!" Asaud yanks his plate away, nodding toward Onyankopon.Â
âYou better ask yoâ husband!"Â
Onyankopon slides his own plate toward you without a word, smirk smug as you stick your tongue out at Asaud. Â
âHaters," you mumble around a mouthful of smoky, tender meat. Â
Later, youâre curled into Onyankoponâs side on the couch, his heartbeat steady beneath your palm as some old cartoon flickers across the TV. The peace is shattered by Asaudâs bedroom door creaking open. He steps out fully dressedâhoodie, sneakers laced tightâand your head lifts from Onyankoponâs chest. Â
âYou okay, baby?"Â
Asaud shifts on his feet, avoiding eye contact.
âIâm straight. UhâŠJamal finnaâ be here in a couple minutes."Â
You and Onyankopon exchange frownsâjust as a knock echoes through the house. Â
Jamal now stands on the threshold when Asaud opens the door, hands shoved in his pockets, head slightly bowed.Â
âEveninâ, Mr. and Mrs. Osei.â
You blink, glancing between him and Asaudâwhoâs now lurking awkwardly by the foyer. Â
âUhâŠare yâallâŠokay now?"
âWe talked. It's straight," Asaud mutters, shifting his weight as he glances between you and Jamal. Â
Your eyes narrow slightly. Â
âSo that's it? Yâall ainât fighting over this girl no more?"Â
âThis my âquarterback, Mommaââ Jamal chuckles, âBeta to his alphaâeven though we both run shit, you know how it go."
âLanguage, âMal."Â
Jamal dips his head immediately at Onyankoponâs voiceââMy fault, Mr. Osei."Â
You exhale, shaking your head as you sink back against Onyankoponâs side. Â
âYou men are so strange."Â
Then, glancing back at Jamal with a small smile, you add, âWellâare you staying to hang out, Jamal?"Â
Before Jamal can answer, Asaud slips in smoothlyâtoo smoothlyââNah, we headed to a party."Â
Onyankoponâs arm tenses beneath you, his jaw tightening.Â
âDid you ask if you could go to a party?"
You press your palm gently against Onyankoponâs chest, âOny, câmon.âÂ
He exhales through his nose.Â
âCurfew at eleven. Not a minute later. And both of yâall better answer yoâ phones when I call.âÂ
Asaud nods quickly, relief flashing in his eyesââGot it."Â
"We out, then. Love yâall!âÂ
You wave them off with a smile, âBe safe!"Â
Your lashes flutter slightly as you watch Onyankoponâs sharp side profile an hour after they leaveâthe strong line of his jaw, the way braids shape out his face, his deep set eyes locked onto the TV screen like heâs studying every frame. You trace idle circles over his chest with your fingertips, admiring the way the dim lamplight catches the faint sheen of his skin. Â
"What you starinâ at, girl?"Â
You grin, pressing a kiss just above his heart. Â
âMy amazing husband."Â
âMmmâ, he rumbles, âYou just love flirtinâ with a nigga.â
You murmur, âMaybe," in a playful toneâthen, with a gentle tug at his chin, you guide his face toward yours.
âYou havenât kissed your wife all day."
âDamn,â he grips at your waist, âA nigga finnaâ get locked up, huh?"Â
You giggle close to his lips, âLife with no parole."Â
And then his mouth crashes into yoursâfull, warm, tasting like sweet tea and the lingering smokiness of barbecue. His kiss is slow at first, until you smoothly climb onto his lap, knees pressing into the couch cushions on either side of his hips. Your fingers tangle at the nape of his neck as you deepen the kiss, your tongue teasing his bottom lip until a rough grunt vibrates against your mouth. Â
âWhy you feeninâ?âÂ
You donât answerâtoo busy loosening his belt with practiced ease, your lips trailing down his neck as you palm him through his pants, earning another gravelly curse through your husband's mouth.Â
âSaudâ could walk back in this house at any moment, girlâ"Â
Your laughter spills against his collarbone in breathy giggles, warm and honeyed, as your fingers hook into the waistband of his pantsâfinally freeing him into your grip. The moment his tip springs free, your breath catchesâa sharp, needy whine escaping your throat as your eyes drink in the sight of himâthick, flushed, veins straining against heated skin, the tip already glistening with his impatience. Â
ââM hungry, Papa. Can I?âÂ
You mewl these words so desperately, lips brushing the twitching head as you gaze up at him through fluttering lashes. Â
Onyankoponâs grip tightens in your curlsânot pulling, just holdingâas he rasps, âGoddamn. Aight.âÂ
Your tongue then darts out, tracing the swollen ridge beneath his crown, relishing the salt-sweet taste of him before dipping into his slit. His hips jerkâhardâknocking a choke from your lungs, but you donât relent. Instead, you press open-mouthed kisses along his shaft, nuzzling into the thatch of coarse hair at the base before swirling your tongue around the tip again. Â
âHollonâ, Mamaââ he grits out, fingers flexing in your hair, but youâre already sinking down, taking him halfway with a blissful whimper. The stretch burns sweetly, your lips sealing around him as hollowed cheeks suck him deeper. His thighs tremble beneath you, a ragged, âFuckââ tearing from his chest as your tongue swirls along his length on the upstroke. Â
You pull off with a lewd pop, running your tongue viciously against your puffy lips at the way his stomach muscles clench.Â
âMissed this,â you purr, licking a stripe from root to tip before swallowing him down againâdeeper this timeâuntil your nose brushes his skin. His groan is filthy, echoing through the living room as his head thuds back against the couch. Â
âGonâ make me act up,â he warns, voice dark with promiseâbut you just whimper again around him, eyes fluttering shut as you bob faster, hungrier. The wet sounds of your mouth on him mix with his ragged breaths, the cartoon still playing forgotten in the background.Â
Your lips stretch obscenely, saliva pooling at the corners of your mouth as you take him all the way downânose pressed into his pelvis, throat fluttering wildly around the intrusion. Your eyes roll back slightly at the stretch, tears pricking at the corners as you whimper around his girth againâ needy, gagging sound that vibrates against his skin and makes his hips jerk instinctively. Â
âFuckâlook at you," Onyankopon growls, fingers tightening in your curls, yanking just enough to make you mmphâair rushing into your lungs before you dive back down, hollowing your cheeks shamelessly. Â
You pull off with another wet pop, spit slick lips swollen and glistening as you pantâonly to spit directly onto his dick, the glob of saliva trailing thickly down his shaft before you smear it with your mouth. You then smack his length against your tongue, giggling breathlessly.
âGoddamn," he snarls heavier, voice dripping with lustâa vein popping in his neck as he glares down at you like he wants to eat you alive. Â
You swirl your tongue around his tip, lapping at the precum beading there before sinking back downâdeeper, messierâyour throat working in desperate swallows around him. Drool drips down your chin, your brows knitting together in a mix of pleasure and strain as you gag prettily around himâthe sounds leaving your mouth absolutely disgusting.Â
âAinât no way you suckinâ dick this good and actinâ all innocent at the dinner table," he grunts, thrusting shallowly into your throat, his grip on your hair bordering on painfulââFuckinâ gluttonâcanât even breathe right and you still trynaâ swallow my shit whole.âÂ
You give a desperate moan in responseâhalf-protest, half-agreementâyour fingers digging into his thighs as you bob faster, sloppier, spit and precum fully smearing across your lips. His hips buck up violently, forcing himself deeper as he curses under his breathââGonâ make this bitch nut all over yoâ pretty ass face.âÂ
You're drunk off himâevery suck, every gag, every slurp of your lips dragging up his shaft leaving you dizzy with greed. Your tongue lolls obscenely along the underside of his cock, spit-slick and desperate, drool dripping in thick strands onto his heavy balls, making them glisten under the dim light. The mess coats your chin, smears across your cheeksâruins you beautifullyâbut you donât care, too lost in the taste of him, the weight of him on your tongue. Â
You usually askâPapa, can I?âbut right now, you donât want permission. You want everything.Â
So with an aroused impatience you climb fully into his lap, knees sinking into the couch cushions on either side of his thighs. One hand grips his shoulder for balance as you yank your capris with the other, exposing bare skinâno panties, never panties when you knew heâd be home. His tip slaps wetly against your folds, already soaked just from sucking him off, and you whimperâhigh and brokenâas his thumb ruthlessly circles your clit, sending sparks up your spine. Â
His mouth crashes into yours, tongues tangling sloppily, spit mixing between you as he grunts against your lipsâ Â
âI ainât movinâ. Put that bitch in.âÂ
Your fingers knot in the hair at the nape of his neck as you sink downâslowly, so slowlyâstretching around him inch by torturous inch. And the burn? Itâs delicious. White-hot and overwhelming, your walls fluttering wildly as you take him deeper. Your eyes even begin to water, lashes sticking together as tears spill over, your mouth trembling against his in a silent sob. Â
Thenâsquelchâa wet, gushing sound punches from your pussy as you bottom out, his hips fully flush against your ass. The obscene noiseâlike air forced from a tight spaceâmakes you shudder, your thighs shaking violently around him. Â
âFuckââ Onyankopon snarls into your mouth, his grip on your waist bruising, âTight-ass pussy always tryna act brand new.â
You whimperâpitiful, unable to do nothing else.
His palms cradle the plush underside of your thighsâcalloused fingertips digging into soft flesh as he lifts you effortlessly, your body hovering above him for one breathless moment before he drops you back down. Â
The descent is slowâagonizingâevery inch of him dragging against your walls until youâre whimpering nonsensically, Creole curses and praise tumbling from your lips in a slurred messâ Â
âAhâMon DieuâPapa, li two choâ!â
Thenâsmackâyour ass lands heavy against his thighs, skin sticking wetly before peeling apart with a lewd clap that ricochets through the living room. Your vision whites out for a second, mouth falling slack as pleasure crackles up your spineâ Â
âShit.â
Your voice fractures, knees trembling where they bracket his hips. His grip tightensâlifting you againâonly to drop you back onto him, the force punching the air from your lungs. Â
âFuck,â you sob, nails raking down his chest, âPâPapa, li two gwoâ!âÂ
Youâre too big.Â
âTalk that shit now,â he taunts, âThought you was hungry?âÂ
âOâO bondyeâP-Papaâ!âÂ
I canât.
The fabric of your top crumples violently in Onyankoponâs fistsâfingers twisting, yanking the material taut as he uses it like reins to drive you down onto him. Every bounce wrenches a gasp from your lips, your body jolting with each punishing thrust, his dick spearing into you with a relentless, bruising rhythm. Your face crumples, pouting down at himâeyes glazed, lips swollen and tremblingâas he growls up at you in thick, guttural Creole.
"Ou vle sa, mm? Ou vle Papa kraze ou?"Â
You want me to break yoâ shit, huh?
You nod frantically, a pathetic, shuddering âMm-hmmâ!" hiccuping from your throat as your cream spills obscenely down his shaft, pooling at the base where his balls glisten with your slick. Â
âIâIâm gonnaâ cumâ!" you mewl, voice breaking, thighs quivering as your walls flutter wildly around him. Â
But Onyankopon doesnât speed upâdoesnât slow downâjust keeps grinding you onto him at that same, devastating pace, letting you feel every inch as your orgasm crests. Your back arches, a silent scream tearing through you as your pussy gushesâhot, wet pulses of arousal soaking his lap, dripping down his abdomen in sticky rivulets. Â
Onyankoponâs grip shiftsâhis hands cinching around your waist as he stands in one fluid motion, twisting you midair before slamming your back flush against his chest. Your breath hitches, fingers scrambling at his forearms as he bends you forward in the same motion, your spine arching obscenely as he crowds over you.
âAinât took my pussy like this innaâ minute. Let a nigga feel you.âÂ
This positionâback arched deep, ass tilted up, your body folded in halfâwas never one you could handle. He knew it. You knew it. Years of marriage, and he only pulled it out on two occasions: when youâd pissed him off just enough to deserve itâor when he wanted to ruin you so thoroughly youâd forget your own name. Â
His dick sinks back into youâslow, sadisticâthe stretch bordering on pain as your walls flutter wildly around him. A petulant whimper claws from your throat, your face tucking into your own shoulder as you try to steady yourself. Â
Too deep. Too much.Â
Before you can adjust, his palm wraps around your throat from behindâhis fingers splayed possessively as he jerks his hips forward, bottoming out with a force that makes your vision blur.  Â
Your cry is muffled against your own skin, tears pricking at your lashes as he starts movingâno build-up, no mercyâjust deep, piston-like thrusts that punch the air from your lungs with every snap of his hips. Â
âAlways actinâ brand new,â he grits out, âLike I ainât had this pussy a thousand times.âÂ
Onyankopon yanks your head back as he starts fucking you with those long, slow, punishing strokes, burying himself to the hilt each time with a rough grunt. Your entire body shudders in shock, fingers clawing at your own ankles as you struggle to stay grounded, but thereâs no escapeâjust the relentless drag of him stretching you open, over and over, the obscene squelch of your soaked pussy echoing in the air between you. Â
A dumb, pleasure-drunk frown twists your faceâeyebrows knitted, lips parted in a silent gaspâbefore your voice finally shatters into whiny, hiccupping sobs. Â
âOhh my god. Shit. Ughn, fuckâ!"Â
Your thighs tremble violently, your back bowing even more as pleasure coils tighter in your gutâeach thrust dragging you closer to the edge. But he doesnât stop, doesnât slow down. Just keeps stroking into youârough, unhurried, perfectâuntil your mind whites out completely.
The next shift happens like lightningâhis arms wrapping around you, hauling you flush against his chest as he lifts you just enough that your toes barely skim the floor, his strength suspending you effortlessly between his body and the air. His palm presses flat against your throat againâhis lips dragging hot against the shell of your ear as his thrusts turn uneven, deeper, desperate.Â
âMissed this shit... missed youâŠâÂ
Youâre too far gone to answerâjust weakly nodding, your head lolling back against his shoulder as pleasure crackles through every nerve. Onyankoponâs thrusts turn frantic, his breath ragged against your neck, his voice breaking every snap of his hipsâ Â
âShitâfuckâgonâ make meâ"Â
Your body achesâmuscles trembling, thighs slick with sweatâbut you force yourself to roll your hips back against him anyway, meeting each deep thrust with a weak but determined grind. Your voice is nothing but a breathless whimper, barely audible over the filthy slap of skin, but you need him to hear your words.  Â
âI love youâlove you so muchââÂ
Your words dissolve into a gasp as he rams into you again, the force of it making your toes curl against the floor. You tilt your head back, pressing your temple against his, lips brushing his jaw as you whisperâ Â
âSuch a good...good father... takinâ care of us.âÂ
Onyankopon groansâlow, rawâthe sound vibrating against your skin as his fingers flex possessively around your throat.Â
"Fuckâ" he grits out, voice strainedâalmost shyâas if heâs not used to being unraveled like this. Â
You reach back blindly, fingers tangling in his braids, tugging just enough to make him growl. Â
âSound so pretty,â you slur.
He curses again, biting at your shoulder as if you contain his own pleasure.Â
âChill.â
His warning rumbles against your lips, but it's unsteadyâalmost shakingâhis usual arrogance stripped bare as his breath hitches. You donât listen. Instead, you crash your mouth against his in a sloppy, desperate kiss, swallowing his next groan whole as he thrusts up into youâharder, deeperâhis hips pistoning in a rhythm that has you both practically singing into each otherâs mouths. Â
His moan becomes muffled against your lipsââOooh, shitââ low and graveled, his forehead pressing against yours as his pace turns erratic. You nod frantically, whimpering in agreement, your own sounds just as broken as his, your nails scraping down his chest as you begin begging him.Â
âFill me up, baby.âÂ
And thatâs all it takes. Â
Onyankopon cums with a ragged groan, his entire body tensing as he spills into you in thick, pulsing wavesâhot, endless, like heâs been holding back for weeks. His fingers dig into your hips hard enough to bruise as he rides it out, fucking his release even deeper inside you. Â
You giggleâweak, breathless, but elatedâthe sensation of him twitching inside you sending little aftershocks of pleasure through your own trembling body.Â
Onyankoponâs chest heaves against your back, his lips still hovering over yours as he muttersââGoddamn."Â
âMmm,â you arch farther into his touch, âWouldâve gotten that last night if you werenât so tiredâŠ"Â
His lips drag slowly along the curve of your earâhot breath making you shiver as he murmurs, âPatience builds tension, girl.âÂ
He grinds deep one last time, lazily rocking into you just to feel your walls flutter weakly around him. Â
Your fingers tighten around his forearm, a pathetic little ââM tired now, PapaâŠ" slipping from your lipsâweak, whiny, still buzzing from pleasure. Â
âOh, âyou tired now?â
You twist in his arms, draping yourself fully against himâyour arms looping around his neck, forehead pressing to his as you sigh, âCâmonn, let's go shower."Â Â
âAight. We hunchinâ again?"Â
âNo, boy! I wanna go to bed. It's nearly twelve."Â
He smacks his lips, eyes flicking past you to the clock on the wallâthen freezes.Â
âIt's what time?"Â
You blink up at him, suddenly aware of the shift in his toneâthat dangerous edge creeping in.Â
âUmâŠfifteen minutes to twelve?" you offer hesitantly. Â
Onyankopon exhales sharply through his nose, jaw tightening as he looks down at you with narrowed eyes.Â
âImma' kill yo' son."Â
Your hands fly up in protest, gripping his shouldersââWell hold on!âHe's a little over curfew, it's fine!â
âSo now I'm doin' too much?â He smacks his lips, pulling back just enough to level you with a lookâmockingly pitching his voice higher, mimicking your earlier whimpersâ ââYouâre such a good fatherââwhat happened to allatâ, huh?"Â
You squeak, cheeks flushing hot as you slap a hand over his mouth, cutting off his teasing.Â
âStop it!âÂ
He licks your palmânastyâmaking you yelp and yank your hand back as he grins, triumphant.Â
âSo you gonâ need the belt after him, huh?âÂ
You scrunch your nose.
âNo. And youâre grumpy.âÂ
A chuckle rumbles deep in his chest, but he doesnât pull awayâjust tilts his head, pressing his forehead a little harder against yours in that way he does when heâs softening, letting you know heâs conceding. Â
âImmaâ let up, aight?"Â
Your shoulders relax, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as you exhale, melting into him. Â
â'âŠâKay.âÂ
His lips brush your temple before he murmurs, âLemmeâ just call and check on âemâafter that? Immaâ rub on yoâ feet and knock the fuck out."
You exhale as he finally pulls away, shaking your head with a quiet laugh. Always unable to let go of that protective dad instinct, even when he was supposed to be letting upâbut that was just him. Overbearing, stubborn, yours. Â
The moment settles into something tender as you watch him grab his phone off the coffee table, his heavy silhouette outlined by the dim light of the living room. Â
âI love you," you murmur, the words slipping out sweet and easyâlike they always did. Â
He pauses mid-step, glancing back at you over his shoulder, the corner of his mouth tilting up in that rare, real smileâthe one reserved just for you. Â
ââLove you more, girl.âÂ
And just like thatâthe day ends, wrapped in warmth, in home, in family.
đàŸàœČ warnings .á + word countâ 9.3K, original!blackfemreader, boyfriend!onyankopon, plug!onyankopon, fresh out the pen!onyankopon, southerncoded!onyankopon, femreader, shy!femreader, giggly!femreader, aggressive!onyankopon, sweet!onyankopon, dominant!onyankopon, car sex, doggy style, missionary, pet names, dirty talk, aggressive pet names, squirting, creaming, condomless sex, pussy eating, dick sucking, overstimulation, minors are not welcome! đàŸàœČ
ăĄăąăâ inspired by the destinyâs child song. i just live for a wattpad hood love story, so hereâs mine. love yâall.
YOU HADNâT BEEN THIS NERVOUS IN A WHILE. You wanted to gnaw at your heart shaped pendant sunken between heavy tits, deep plum gloss outlining your full lips that youâd chewed to a swell just minutes before. This moment didnât feel realâand yet, it was. He was coming home.
Thick Louisiana heat presses against your skin like a loverâs embrace, sprawled across the king sized bed in the heart of the 7th Wardâa place where shotgun houses and Creole cottages line the streets like old friends. The walls of your shared home hum with memories, the scent of cayenne and slow cooked roux lingering in the air from last nightâs gumbo. The bedroom is a sanctuaryâmahogany furniture polished to a shine, silk sheets the color of midnight draped over the mattress, and gold framed photos of yâallâs happiest moments catching the dim glow of the sunset through half closed blinds.Â
But somethingâs missing. Â
You bury your face into his pillow, inhaling deeplyâor trying to. His scent, that intoxicating mix of sandalwood and blunt smoke, has faded to a ghost of what it once was. Three months without him sleeping beside you, without his deep voice grumbling nonsense in your ear as he pulls you closer. The emptiness is heavy.Â
Your massive pitbull, Bear, stretches across the bed like a living shadow, his muscular frame pressed against your thigh as if sensing your longing.Â
You run your fingers through his coarse fur, murmuring, âYou ready for Papa to come home?âÂ
Bearâs ears twitch at the mention of him, dark eyes flickering with something like understanding. Even the house feels quieter without his presenceâno bass rattling the windows, no deep laugh shaking the walls, no rough hands tugging you into his lap just because. Â
Onyankopon.Â
Deep brown skin kissed by the Louisiana sun, glowing like polished syrup under the streetlights. His cornrows are always fresh, laid to perfection, trailing down to the nape of his neck with a crisp lineup sharp enough to cut glass. That mouth of hisâshiny grills flashing when he smirks, a warning disguised as charm. His beard-goatee combo is always kept tight, framing full lips that can curse a man into the ground or praise you so sweetly it makes your knees weak. Â
And his body. Lord. Broad shoulders, thick arms wrapped in inkâevery tattoo telling a story. The fleur-de-lis stamped near his left temple, a silent declaration of loyalty to the soil that raised him. More Louisiana love etched into his skinâ oak trees, 504 in bold script. His knuckles say NO LOVE, but you know betterâknow the way those same hands cradle your face like youâre the air he breathes. Â
Youâve seen him in business mode. Jaw clenched, voice dropping to something low and lethal, a Glock tucked in the back of his waistband like a second shadow. He didnât playânot when it came to money, not when it came to respect.
But you know the truth. Â
That same man whoâll put a bullet in somebodyâs kneecaps over disrespect is the one slipping Mrs.LeBlanc a stack of bills every month so her lights stay onâthe one who refuses to sell to fiends nodding out on the corner. The one who bought the whole block Thanksgiving turkeys last year just because. Â
A good man with rough edges. Yours.
Your heart aches with the knowingâthe kind that lives in the quiet spaces between his laughter and the way his eyes get distant sometimes, staring out at the horizon like heâs searching for something just out of reach. Â
Youâve seen the flicker in his gaze when yâall pass a college campus, when he watches old men playing chess in the park with no worries weighing them down. You know he dreams of something elseâlegitimate money, a life where he doesnât have to look over his shoulder every five seconds. But survival mode is a beast he canât shake, not when the streets raised him harsher than any parent ever did. Â
Your mind flashes back to that nightâthe night.Â
The way his face twisted in fury as the cops swarmed, their boots kicking up gravel as they yanked his arms behind his back too rough, too eager. You remember screaming his name, lunging forward only for his voice to cut through the chaos like a bladeâGo back in the fuckinâ house!âand the way your legs shook as you obeyed, tears blurring your vision until all you saw were flashing red and blue lights swallowing him whole. Â
Three months. Â
Three months of letters tucked into envelopes smelling like your perfume, of collect calls where his voice was gruff but his words were softââHow you holdinâ up, baby?"Â
Three months of praying the charges wouldnât stick, of begging your parents to understand why you couldnâtâwouldnâtâwalk away. Â
You think God would approve of this, child? Running with a man who feeds poison to his own people?Â
Their words stung, but not as much as the truth burning in your chestâyou loved him anyway. Loved him when he came home smelling like gunpowder and regret, loved him when he held you so tight it felt like an apology. Â
But still, thereâs a part of you that dreams tooâof lazy Sunday mornings without fear, of a future where his hands are stained with paint instead of blood. A future where he chooses differently. Â
You sigh, pressing your face into Bearâs fur as if he can absorb the weight of your thoughts. Â
Soon.
Your dark curls lay across the pillow like spilled ink as you sink deeper into Bearâs warmth, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest beneath your fingertips lulling you into a false sense of calm. Â
Thenâmovement.Â
Bear tenses beneath you, his massive body going rigid before he suddenly hikes up with a deep, rumbling growlânot the dangerous kind, but the kind that vibrates with recognition. In an instant, heâs off the bed, paws thudding against hardwood as he bolts toward the living room. Â
Thenâthe creak of the front door.Â
You left it unlocked. You knew. Â
Before you can even sit up fully, you hear Bearâs excited whines, the frantic scratch of his claws against the floor as he launches himself at someoneâat him. Your pulse thunders in your ears as you swing your legs over the edge of the bed, bare feet hitting the floor before you even realize youâre moving. Â
And there he is.Â
Standing in the doorway like a storm, shoulders bigger than you remember, muscles straining against the thin fabric of his white muscle tee like he outgrew it in just three months. His sweatpants hang low on his hips, the same pair heâd left in before they took him, but now they cling to thighs that look harder, more defined. Â
His cornrows are freshly done, edges sharp enough to draw blood, that damn fleur-de-lis tattoo peeking out from beneath the slant of his brow. But itâs his eyes that grip youâdark, calculating, hungryâas they rake over you like heâs memorizing every inch. Â
âThe fuck you leave the door unlocked for?âÂ
Your lips partâbut the second his voice hits you, really hits you, something inside cracks wide open. Â
ââŠIâI knew it was you,â you whimper, voice trembling like a leaf in the wind.Â
Onyankopon knows you.
âKnows the way your bottom lip trembles right before the tears fall. âKnows how your voice gets small and shaky when youâre tryingâand failingâto hold it together. âKnows that no matter how spicy your mouth gets, that tender heart of yours spills over first. Â
And right now? Â
His dark eyes drink you in all of you. Â
Your caramel skin glows under the dim lights, bare except for the tiniest rebellion inked along your ribsâhis name, etched in delicate script, hidden beneath the swell of your tits like a secret only heâs allowed to touch. Â
Those frecklesâgod, those frecklesâdusting your cheeks and the bridge of your nose like constellations. Your round face flushed, slender eyes shimmering with tears, long dark curls tumbling wildly over your shoulders as you try to hide the way your body shakes. Â
Hips fuller, ass heavier, waist somehow even smaller than he remembered, all wrapped up in that deep plum babydoll dress that barely covers your thighs. His gaze drags lowerâno bra, just the thin lace of your panties peeking beneath the hem, your brown nipples stiff and visible through the fabric. Â
And thenâ Â
âYou left me.âÂ
Your tits bounce heavily as you hiccup, hands flying up to cover your face in that adorably flustered way you do when youâre overwhelmed.Â
âAight, Mamaâlemmeâ hold you," he murmurs, voice thick with that gravelly warmth that usually melts you right where you stand. But not today. Â
You shake your head hard, curls whipping against your cheeks, suddenly furiousâat him, at the streets, at the damn system that keeps snatching him away from you.Â
âNo," you snap, voice wobbling despite yourself. Â
This is your routine. Â
The one where you unleash every pent up acheâwhere you sob about how Mrs. LeBlanc asked about him at the store last Tuesday, how you burned the first pot of gumbo because he wasnât there to taste test it, how Bear whined at the door every night for a week after they took him. Â
âYou missedâyou missed everythingâ"
Onyankopon exhales through his nose, patience wearing thin. He reaches for you again, fingers brushing your waist, but you smack his hand awayâor try to. Your tiny slap barely fazes him, and the way his jaw tightens tells you his sympathyâs run out. Â
One large hand fists into the back of your dress, yanking you against him so hard your breath whooshes out of you. His other arm bands around your waist, locking you in place as your tits press flush against his chest. Â
âOnyâ!"Â
âNah," he growls, âYou done?"Â
And just like thatâyou crack.Â
Your fingers claw into his shirt as you bury your face into his neck, inhaling that familiar scentâjailhouse soap, and him. A choked sob escapes you as he grunts, adjusting his grip to cradle you tighter. Â
âYeah," he mutters, lips brushing your templeââThatâs what I thought.â
His nose drags along the curve of your neckâinhaling deepâlike heâs trying to drown himself in you. Vanilla. Spiced cinnamon. Caramel. Your scent clings to his senses, and a rough groan vibrates against your skin before he cups your face in his big, calloused hands. Â
Thenâhis mouth crashes into yours. Â
Not soft. Not sweet. Â
Claiming.
His tongue strokes against yours, hot and demanding, before he sucks your bottom lip between his teethâsharp, just how you like it. The sound of his grunts fills the space between kissesââGoddamn, you smell so goodââ his palm smacks against your ass with a sharp CLAP!, making the flesh quiver beneath his grip as he kneads it possessively. Â
âWhy you doinâ allatâ, huh?â His voice is gruff but softer now, forehead pressed to yoursââA nigga was gonâ find his way back to you.â
âYour lawyer saidâŠâ your voice cracks, fingers tightening in his shirtâââSaid they couldaâ gave you more timeâŠâ
His jaw ticksâonce, twiceâbefore he exhales hard through his nose. Â
âLook at me.âÂ
When you do, his eyes burn with something fierce. Â
âAinât no cage gonâ keep me from you.âÂ
And just like thatâhis mouth is on yours again, swallowing your whimpers, his grip tightening like heâs determined to erase every second of those three months apart.
Your whimper melts into something hotter, needierâtongue sliding bold and filthy against his, dragging slowly before plunging back in, tasting the mint on his breath mixed with something darker, smokier. Onyankopon growls against your lips, tongue stroking yours with a rhythm that makes your thighs clench. Â
âGreedy ass," he rumbles, voice thick with amusementâ"Threw that lilâ tongue at me like you ainât just been cryinâ."Â
ââWant you, PapaâŠ" you pant this, rocking your hips against the hard ridge of him, shameless. Â
His hands tighten on your faceârough but reverentâas he pulls back just enough to lock eyes with you, his gaze burning through you.Â
âThree months, baby. Three months âI been dreaminâ âbout my pussy," he grits outââBut nah, we gonâ do this right."Â
Your brows knitâconfused, frustratedâuntil his thumb swipes over your bottom lip, smug as hell. Â
âA nigga got a whole garden in the Hummer for you," he admits lowly, "Tulips, roses, shit you likeâwhole backseat covered."
That freckled smile of yours spreads slowly across your face, until you realize something.Â
âWaitâyou got your car back?"
His smirk doesnât falter, but something shifts behind his gazeâhooded, calculated.Â
âHandled it."Â
You blink once. Twice. Then deadpan, âI wonât even ask."Â
âYou already knowinâ," he chuckles, swiping his thumb over your bottom lip one last time like heâs erasing the question altogether. Â
âGo âhead, start gettinâ yoâself pretty. Immaâ run some plays by these niggas, handle some business âfore we head out."
Your stomach knots. Already?Â
Three months gone, and the streets demand his presence before the sheets even lose your warmth. You bite your protest back regardless, swallowing it down with a soft âOkay," that barely fills the space between you. Â
Onyankopon studies you for half a breathâlike he sees it, the tension in your jawâbefore gruffly adding, âAight? Iâm happy to be home."Â
And just like that heâs turning away, crouching to ruffle Bearâs ears as the dog practically vibrates with joy. You watch themâthe way his tattooed hands roughhouse with the beast who missed him just as much as you didâand exhale. Â
âYeah," you murmur, touching the heart pendant at your throat.Â
ââŠMe too."
The afternoon light slants through sheer curtains as the scene shifts to another familiar rhythmâOnyankopon planted on the bedroom bench like a king holding court. His muscular thighs spread wide, fresh out of the shower but already dressed in that effortless urban eleganceâcrisp black tee straining across his chest, black Amiri cargos, icy AP watch glinting at his wrist. Cuban links drip down his neck as he barks into his phone, voice sandpaper roughââNah, that product âmove different now. âTell them lilâ niggas to tighten up or get got."Â
Meanwhile, you exist in your own world mere feet awayânaked as the day you were born, lost in the ritual of getting ready. Â
Your reflection in the vanity mirror is sinfulâthat waist cutting in like an hourglass before flaring out into heavy hips and that ass he canât stop smacking. Oversized tits sway as you lean forward to dab blush over freckled cheeks, brown nipples stiff from the breeze drifting through the window. Between your thighsâpretty pink folds glistening with arousal, still tender from the thought of him earlier.Â
Youâre so engrossed in blending highlighter along your collarbones that you donât notice his approachâuntil thick fingers suddenly part you from behind. Â
âPapaâ!âÂ
Your giggle bubbles up as his calloused thumb swipes through slick heat, inspecting you with a low hum of approval. Â
"Fuck you laughinâ for?" he grunts, still half distracted by his phone conversationâââJust checkinâ my property."Â Â
The juxtaposition is ridiculousâhim murmuring âTwo keys max,â into the receiver while his other hand teases your clitâuntil you slap his wrist away, cheeks burning. Â
"Stop it!âÂ
ââYou the one bent over lookinâ like dessert."Â
Sigh. Business and pleasure, always intertwined.
Now fully dressed, you feel every bit the masterpiece youâve craftedâyour curls styled in a voluminous flip over cascading like spilled ink down your back. Dark, feathery lashes make your almond shaped eyes look bigger, doe like, while deep brown lipsâblended with a hint of plumâgive your mouth a sultry, kissable pout. Â
The outfit is pure temptationâtall, strappy heels that add inches to your shorter frame, black capris clinging to every curve of your full hips and round ass like they were painted on. The lace trimmed camisole is sinful, its sweetheart neckline framing the swell of your breasts, the sheer fabric teasing glimpses of skin beneath. Your small Coach purse twinkles with playful keychains dangling from it, a hint of softness against the fierce femininity of your look. Â
You do a slow, deliberate spin for himâhips swaying, lashes flutteringâbefore rolling your eyes dramatically when he barely glances up, his big hand absently rubbing the side of your hip as he continues growling into the phone, âNah, lilâ bruh, thatâs not how we move.âÂ
Frustration flickers. Â
With a huff, you drop onto his lap without warning, your weight forcing his thighs to adjust beneath you. His free arm instinctively wraps around your waist as you play with the coarse strands of his beard, your fingers tracing the sharp line of his jaw while he keeps talking. Â
You murmur against his ear, âI got all pretty for you, yâknow.âÂ
 âAight, Immaâ see you in twenty.â
You blink.Â
âTwenty minutes? Where?"Â
âAcross the Westbank," he replies smoothly, fingers trailing up the curve of your thigh where the capris hug tightestâââTold you I had business to handle."Â
Your arms cross over your chest, âThis was supposed to be our time."Â
âYounâ think I know that? I got shit to do."Â
âYeah, âcause a drug dealer has way less free time than the average working man."
The words hang in the airâsharp, but edged with truth. His brows lift, a silent challenge, and you bite your lip before melting back against him with a soft âSorryâŠâÂ
Your voice dropped to a whisper, âI just want you to myself today."
Onyankopon exhales through his nose, the tension in his shoulders loosening as his hands slide up your back.Â
âYou got me," he murmurs, lips brushing the slope of your bare shoulder.Â
âBut I got a whole neighborhood to take care ofâincluding buyinâ everythinâ yoâ greedy lilâ ass wanna see under the sun."Â
His mouth trails up your neck, each kiss a quiet apology, a silent promise. You sigh, tilting your head to give him more access, your resolve crumbling beneath his touch. Â
âFine," you concede, âBut hurry, please?âÂ
âAinât gonâ be long enough for you to miss me."Â
And just like that, he had you under his spell.
The first time you rode shotgun on one of his business runs, your pulse had thrummed with something illicitâthe thrill of danger, the heat of rebellion licking at your skin like a forbidden flame. Back then, watching him command respect with just the tilt of his chin felt electric, his dominance a live wire beneath your fingertips. Â
Now? Â
Now you slump in the passenger seat of his freshly detailed Hummer, fingers drumming against the leather as you stare determinedly out the window. His employeesâlean, hungry looking young men with eyes too old for their facesânod at you with careful respect, like youâre some kind of queen theyâre afraid to glance at too long. You offer weak smiles in return, teeth digging into your plum stained bottom lip. Â
Onyankopon moves like a stormâmethodical, unhurriedâhanding off product wrapped in crisp bills, exchanging terse words with buyers who swear they can handle weight they clearly canât. Every so often his palm lands heavy on your thighâreassuring, possessiveâbut your skin feels too tight today. Â
Your gaze flicks to the Glock tucked between his seat and the console, the .45 holstered at his ankle, the AR barely hidden beneath the flower blankets in the back. The arsenal used to make you feel safe. Now it just makes your stomach twist. Â
âCan we go?"Â
He pauses mid sentence, dark eyes cutting to youâreading the tension in your jaw, the way your fingers twist the rings on your hands. Â
âFive minutes," he grunts.Â
Onyankoponâs jaw ticks as he leans out the driverâs side window, his deep voice dropping to a lethal calmâ Â
âNigga, you movinâ like you want problems.âÂ
The young boy couldnât be older than nineteenâpuffs his chest out, fingers twitching near his waistband like heâs itching to prove something.Â
âI ainât scaredââÂ
âThatâs yoâ first fuckinâ problem.âÂ
Before the kid can retort, Onyankopon shoves the car door open and steps out, looming over him like a shadow. Even from the passenger seat, you can see the moment the boy realizes his mistakeâhow his shoulders tense, how his eyes dart sideways for backup that ainât coming. Â
âYou gonâ get smoked actinâ like this,â Onyankopon growls, jabbing a finger into the boyâs chestââGet yoâ shit together âfore I help you.âÂ
âAight, Onyoâ. Damn. My badââÂ
âGet the fuck on.âÂ
He dismisses him before sliding back into the driverâs seat, his energy crackling like live wire. You donât say a wordâjust shift in your seat, crossing your legs tight, lips pressed together. Â
The engine roars as he peels off, tires biting pavement. At the first red light, his hand cups the back of your neck, dragging you into a kiss so filthy your toes curl in your heels. Â
âGood girl,â he murmurs against your lips, âAppreciate you holdinâ me down.âÂ
You nod, still quiet, but your fingers tighten on his wristâWhere are we going?Â
âYoâ lilâ candy ass arcade on Canal.âÂ
Your frown melts instantlyâthe one with the vintage Pac-Man machine and strawberry mochi. A grin tugs at your lips despite yourself. Â
ââŠâKay.âÂ
Once again? Under his spell.
The neon glow of Canal Street buzzed around you as you stepped into the old-timey arcade, its retro facade hiding a freshly renovated interior that smelled faintly of buttered popcorn and digital nostalgia. The weekend crowd pulsed around youâlaughing teenagers, couples locked in competitive banter, families chasing kids hyped up on sugarâall seeking the same escape from reality. Your fingers tightened around Onyankoponâs large hand as you tugged him inside, watching his sharp gaze flick over the spaceânew LED lights where flickering fluorescents once hung, sleek game consoles replacing the creaky ones he remembered. Â
âAinât been gone that long,â he muttered, but there was no real irritation in it, just the low rumble of a man recalibrating. Â
âThree months can feel like a sentence, Papa.âÂ
He thinks on your words for a moment.Â
ââCâmon, then. Iâm tryna put âbelt to ass in Mortal Kombat.â Â
âIn your dreams!âÂ
You darted away with a giggle, weaving through the crowd as his deep chuckle chased you. The sound was rare enough to make your chest acheâhe was letting his guard down.
And when he did? Â
It was like the sun breaking through a storm. Â
At the game station, he was ferociousâbutton mashing with the precision of a man who took everything seriously, even play. His victorious howls shook your ribs where you stood pressed against him, his arm slung around your waist as he crowed about flawless victories. But thenâyour turn. His competitive edge melted into something softer, his hands guiding yours over the controls when you pouted about losing.Â
âLike this, mamaâtime it right.â
 It was a quiet parallel to his lifeâhis instinct to protect, to guide, even in something as trivial as a game. Â
Later at a secluded lounge area tucked in the back of the arcade, you both shared strawberry mochi and sweet wine. The other couples around you laughed easilyâholding hands, stealing kisses without glancing over their shoulders first. Your fingers traced the rim of your glass as the thought settled heavyâDid they have regular lives? Were they happier?
Onyankoponâs voice cut through the haze. Â
âYou been thinkinâ on somethinâ since we left the house."Â
His voice is low, steadyâa statement, not a question. Â
âHm?âÂ
âHm?â he repeats, âYeah, you."
You swirl the sweet wine in your glass, avoiding his gaze for just a beat too long before answering, âIâm just happy to have you home."Â
He leans back in his chair, arms folding across his broad chest.Â
ââYou want me to believe that?âÂ
âThatâs what Iâm telling you.âÂ
A beat passes. Then another. His expression doesnât changeâjust that same quiet intensity, like heâs reading every flicker of hesitation in your body language. Â
He stands, the chair scraping against the floor. Â
âWe gonâ talk over dinner," he confirms, âItâs aight."Â
And just like that, the conversation is postponedâbut not forgotten. You exhale softly, nodding as you rise to grab his hand, the unspoken weight of your thoughts lingering between you like an extra shadow.
The restaurant hums with the soul of New Orleansâexposed brick walls draped in vintage jazz posters, flickering candlelight glinting off brass fixtures, the rich scent of gumbo and buttery cornbread hanging thick in the air. Live piano notes drift from the corner, smooth and lazy like the Mississippi at dusk. Â
You sit across from him, legs crossed just so, your lace camisole dipping to frame the heavy swell of your breasts. Small dimples flash as you press your lips together, watching him watch you with that quiet, unnerving focus of hisâlike heâs peeling back every layer youâve carefully stacked since this morning. Â
âThank you for bringing me here,â you murmur, fingers tracing the rim of your water glass. Â
His response is a low rumbleââAinât gotta thank me for doinâ shit a nigga supposed to do."Â
Silence stretches between you. You know that lookâchin tilted down, thick brows slightly furrowedâheâs turning something over in his mind. Â
Then, out of nowhereââHow yoâ mama doinâ?"Â
You smile, soft and genuine.Â
âStill prayinâ for you."
His lips quirkâââWouldnât want it any other way. She give a nigga âtravelinâ grace."Â
You tug a curl behind your ear, exhaling softly. Â
âWellâŠ" You reach for your purse, heart skippingââI got you somethinâ."
Your fingers tremble slightly as you pull out the blue velvet boxâsmall, unassuming, but holding all the hope you've tucked away. Â
His lips quirk before he even opens it, that deep voice laced with mischiefââLemmeâ guessâis it you, butt ass naked on top of a second Hummer? âCause I was already planninâ on makinâ that happen."Â
You roll your eyes, âNo, boy."Â
He flips the lid open, thick fingers pausing as he pulls out the sleek, leather bound plannerâmatte black with silver detailing, masculine but refined. The attached pen glints under the soft restaurant lighting. Â
âi got you a planner!" you squeak, suddenly nervous. Â
His brow arches, thumb tracing the edge of the booklet before he meets your eyesââThatâs sweet, baby. But why?"Â
You fidget, twisting a curl around your fingerââWellâŠI thought maybe it could be a new bonding experience for us?"
Your voice is softer nowâ"You knowâŠwe could journal on Sundays during online sermons, make grocery lists, plan things togetherâŠ"Â
Your next words come out in a rushââI thoughtâŠmaybe even show your parole officer that you do want more in life, you know?" Â
The air between you shifts. Â
His expression hardens, âYounâ think I want more in life?"Â
"I didnât mean it like that, I justâ"Â
âSo what you sayinâ?"Â
His voice is calm, but thereâs an edge beneath itâthe kind that makes your pulse stutter. You swallow, choosing your next words carefully. Â
"I justâŠwant you to try something new, Onâ."Â
Your gaze lifts, meeting hisââThere are these moments where you talk about your futureâgoinâ to trade school, gettinâ off the streets, somethinââŠpractical. Youâre just too smart for that to go to waste."Â
A beat passes. Then his lips curlânot quite a smileââYou think beinâ pragmatic gonâ pay the bills?"Â
"Onyâ"Â
âNiggas out here with degrees still hustlinâ backwards. You think a planner gonâ change the fact that this city donât give a fuck about no trade school paperwork?"
His voice drops low, gravel rough with convictionââI got half a fuckinâ city to feed, ionâ do this shit âcause I like tellinâ niggas what to do. The side of town we stay on? You still there âcause you refuse to leave yoâ family, and I respect that."
 His jaw flexes, thumb brushing over the planner still in his handââBut I should get the same in return."Â
Heâs right. Heâs always talked about putting you up somewhere betterâsomewhere with gates and quiet streets, or even leaving New Orleans altogetherâbut heâs never pushed you. Never made you choose when you never agreed to that.Â
And now here you are, handing him a planner like itâs an ultimatum, like paper could fix the jagged edges of the life heâs built. Â
You blink hard, swallowing the lump formingââIâm sorryâŠâÂ
Fingers trembling, you reach to take the planner back, but his hand closes gently over yours before you can. Â
âDonât do allatâ," he murmurs, voice softer now. The planner stays in his gripânot rejected, not dismissedâjust held.Â
ââThis the shit thatâs been weighinâ on yoâ heart all day?âÂ
The question hangs between you, raw and exposed.Â
ââŠI talked to your parole officer,â you admit, voice barely above a whisperâââBefore your release.âÂ
His jaw clenches, but he doesnât interrupt. Â
âHe said if you get caught againâŠitâs twenty-five to life, Onyankopon. No parole.âÂ
A single tear escapes before you can stop it, sliding hot down your cheek. You swipe at it fast, but the damage is doneâyour face is warm, your lips trembling as you whisper, âI canât lose you again.â
âI ainât goinâ nowhere.âÂ
His voice is gruff, thick with something that makes your chest ache. He doesnât promise miracles. Doesnât swear heâll change overnight. But the look in his eyesâthe vow in themâsays more than words ever could. Â
âYou have to be here, yâknow?âÂ
His thumb swipes under your eye, rough but tender. Â
âIâm knowinâ, baby.âÂ
But you canât stop nowâthe words spill out like a confession, shaky and rawâ Â
âWhen we have our first lilâ PapaâŠwhen we get marriedâŠwhen you finally graduateâŠâÂ
Your breath hitches, lips quivering as you grip his wrist, needing him to hear this, to feel it like you do. Â
âYou canât leave me like that again.â
The words break on the last syllable, âYou just canât.âÂ
Thatâs all it takes. Â
In one swift movement, heâs out of his seat, leaning across the table, his big hands cradling your faceânot gentle, not this timeâcommanding your attention. Â
âStop that fuckinâ cryinâ,â he growls, âIâm never leavinâ you again.âÂ
You whimperâhalf protest, half reliefâbut before you can speak, his mouth crashes into yours, stealing your breath along with the last of your tears. Itâs not a sweet kissâitâs desperate, possessive, a promise sealed in salt and heat. Â
Her voice squeaks out, âIâllâuhââcome back!âÂ
Onyankopon doesnât even flinch, just leans back slightly, his deep voice smooth as molassesââNah, you good, love. We ainât mean to stop what you gotta do.âÂ
You quickly wipe your face with the back of your hand, giggling apologetically at her, your earlier tears replaced by a warm, flustered grin.Â
âThank you, sweetheart,â you murmur as she carefully sets the plates down. Â
âIs there anything else yâall need?â she asks, glancing between you two like sheâs half-expecting another emotional hurricane. Â
Your mouth falls open before you snatch a fry off his plate and flick it at him. He catches it between his teeth, smirk victorious as he chews. Â
âDamn. Nevermind then,â he murmurs, low and playful, making the waitress bite back a laugh before she scurries off. Â
The rest of the night feels goodânormal in a way that makes your chest ache with gratitude. Before leaving, you drag him into the restaurantâs vintage black and white photo booth, cramming yourselves into the tiny space. He grumbles âThis shit for teenagers,â but still lets you pose himâgruff, sexy glares mixed with moments where he suddenly pulls you in, his lips at your neck, his hands possessive on your hips while the flash captures it all. Â
And when you climb back into the Hummer later, the LED lights inside now glow a soft violetâyou canât help but watch him with quiet fascination. Â
Heâs on the phone with one of his men, voice a low, authoritative rumbleââNah, donât move âtil I say soââwhile his free hand rolls a blunt with effortless precision, his thick fingers crimping the paper just right.
The Hummer idles softly outside your apartment building, the engine a quiet purr beneath the hum of the city at night. The LED glow from the dashboard paints his sharp features in an otherworldly hueâhigh cheekbones catching the light, the flicker of his chains as he moves. Â
You sit curled in the passenger seat, cradling the bouquet of flowers heâd surprised you with earlierâroses, peonies, all lush and fragrant. You press your nose into the petals, inhaling deeply as your lashes flutter shut for just a second. Sweet. Just like him when he wanted to be. Â
Across from you, Onyankopon flicks his lighterâthe flame casting brief, dancing shadows across his deep brown skin, his tattoos momentarily illuminated like ancient script. He takes a long pull from the blunt, smoke curling from his nostrils in smooth, practiced streams. Â
âNon, fais pas çaâNah, donât do that. Li pa bon pou biznis.âÂ
You watch as he takes another hit, the ember glowing bright before he exhales again, smoke filling the space between you. Â
âMwen pral rele ou pli ta,â he murmurs into the phone before ending the call. Â
Silence settles, but itâs comfortableâheavy with the scent of weed and flowers, the quiet understanding between you two thicker than the smoke. Â
You reach over, brushing a thumb over his knuckles. Â
âTeach me,â you murmur. Â
He arches a brow. Â
âCreole?âÂ
You nod.Â
His lips curl into that half smirk that always makes your stomach flutter as he nudges the blunt between his fingers and murmurs, "Say âMwen renmen wâ."Â
I love you.Â
You bite your lip to suppress the grin threatening to take over your faceâyou know what it meansâbut you play along anyway, voice lilting sweetly, âMwen renmen w."Â
His eyes darken, the low purple light catching the flecks of gold in them as he exhales smoke and leans closer, rough palm cradling your jaw.Â
âI love you so much fuckinâ more, girl."Â
You only took two hits, but itâs enoughâyour body melts against his side, pliant and warm, your cheek pressing into the firm curve of his shoulder as he scrolls through his phone with one hand, the other absently tracing circles on your thigh. Â
Messages light up the screenâcoordinates, confirmations, the usualâbut youâre too busy nuzzling into the scruff along his jaw, breathing in the mix of his cologne and weed. You press a feather light kiss there, right where his beard meets his cheekbone. Â
âThank you, mama," he murmurs, voice gravel rough but tender. Â
You go in for another, but this time he turns his head just enough to meet you halfwayâa quick peck at first, teasing. But when you chase his lips, he hums low in his throat and suddenly itâs not quick anymore. Â
His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, demanding entry, and you part for him with a breathy sigh. The kiss deepensâslow, filthy, calculatedâuntil youâre squirming in your seat, your fingers tangled in his chains. Â
âAight," he growls against your mouth, one hand already on the door handleââ"We takinâ this shit upstairs."
The kiss is molten, unhurried but heavy with intentâyour foreheads bump together, lips slanting clumsily as you whimper into his mouth, needier than usual. Your heel slides up over the center console, legs spreading just enough in that shy, wordless way of yoursâcanât wait, donât make me wait.Â
Thenâthereâthe rough pad of his middle finger swiping over your clothed folds, and fuck, the fabric is already damp, sticking to your skin. Your tongue stutters against his, a broken huff catching in your throat as your head falls back against the seat. Â
ââŠ.Ainât even touched yoâ ass yet,â he murmurs, but his finger circles again, mimicking the lazy thrust of his tongueâslow, then slowerâuntil youâre squirming, your hips canting up into his touch.  Â
âMwen renmen w,â you mewl, and his fingers curl, gripping your thigh as he licks into your mouth like heâs trying to taste the words. Â
ââFuckinâ right you do.â
The air in the Hummer is thickâhot with the weight of desperate breaths and the slick, sinful sound of his fingers teasing you through damp fabric. Your hands fist gently in his beard, the coarse strands scraping against your palms, sending a shiver down your spine. You canât help itâyou nuzzle against the roughness, craving the friction, the burn of it against your skin before dragging him down into another filthy, open mouthed kiss. Â
Your legs spread widerâso fucking wideâknees falling slack against the leather seats, silently begging. Â
His fingers then hook into the waistband of your capris, dipping just beneath. He doesnât even push inside yet, just swipes slow along your soaked folds, gathering the slick there before dragging back up. Your hips jerk, but he pins you with a glare, forehead pressed hard against yours as his breath fans over your parted lips. Â
âMâgonna cum if you put âem in,â you whimper, voice trembling, weak. Â
You squirm, biting your lipââOnyâŠIâm so wet.âÂ
His nostrils flare, eyes narrowing as he leans in, his breath hot against your earââIâmma put âem in. You âbet not fuckinâ cum.â
The moment his thick fingers slide inside you, deep, your body betrays you in the most obscene wayâyour pussy clenches around him with a wet, shuddering pfft as his knuckles sink into your swollen folds. Â
A weak, desperate sob tears from your throat, your voice breaking high and needy like you havenât been touched in years, like his fingers are the only thing keeping you sane. Worse? You gush around him instantly, soaking his hand in a humiliating rush of slick, your hips jerking helplessly. Â
âFuck,â he growls, dragging the word out low and rough as your eyes roll back. Heâs fucking you with his fingers, slow and deep, curling them just right to make your back arch off the seat. Â
âUghnâohmygodââ you slur, voice wrecked, your mouth falling slack as he pistons his fingers in and out, your wetness squelching around them with every thrust. Â
He leans in, his breath hot against your earââSoundinâ like a fuckinâ baby.âÂ
And you doâwhimpering, gasping, your pussy clenching around his fingers like itâs trying to milk them for more. Â
âAinât even fucked you yet,â he murmurs, cruel, twisting his fingers just to hear you sob again.
A desperate whimper claws its way up your throat as you crash your mouth against his in a messy, open mouthed kissâtongue sliding filthy against his, lips smearing wet and frantic. Your brows knit together, a tight little frown creasing your forehead as his fingers bury themselves even deeper, stretching you with that perfect, brutal coil that makes your toes curl. Â
âOnyoââfuhhâ!"Â
The words dissolve into a senseless slur, your voice cracking as your legs hike higher, knees pressing into your chest, showing himâbegging himâjust how badly you need it. Â
Your mind hazes, drifting back to those long nights aloneâphone pressed to your ear, his voice rough through the receiver as he talked you through it, murmuring filthy promises while you rubbed your clit with trembling fingers, tears streaking your cheeks. Â
And now? You canât even handle the real thing.Â
His fingers withdraw with a wet pop, leaving you empty and whimperingâuntil his rough grip tangles in your hair, yanking your face toward his lap with a throaty command.Â
âGonâ eat this dick up," he grunts, voice dripping with dominanceââActinâ like you canât even take my fingers."Â
You surge forward, pressing a sloppy, desperate kiss against his lipsââMâsorryâ"Â
âIonâ wanna hear allatâ,â he growls, "On yoâ knees."Â
He shoves the console back with one hand, his other hand still fisted in your curls, guiding you down. The sight of you beneath him is obscenely perfectâyour large, teary eyes peering up through your lashes, lips parted and puffy, freckled cheeks flushed. Â
With trembling hands, you tug his sweats down just enough to free himâhis dick springs out, thick and angry, the tip already glistening. Itâs bigger than your face, heavy in your small hands, veins prominent under your fingertips. Â
"Fuck," you whimperâyou canât help yourself, smacking the swollen head against your tongue before licking a kittenish stripe up his shaft.Â
His rough palm cups the side of your face, calloused fingers pressing into your soft skin before delivering a dominant smackânot hard enough to hurt, just enough to make you whimper and redden under his touch. Â
âHow much you missed this dick?" He growls, watching with hooded eyes as you bob your head messily, spit and pre-cum slicking your lips. Â
Your answer comes in slurred, desperate sucksââMmmhhâmmph!"âthe vibration of your whimpers traveling up his length. You've always struggled to take him fully, but you try so hard, your throat fluttering around the head as you choke back tears. Â
He chuckles darkly, reaching for the blunt still smoldering in the ashtray. Onyankopon takes a slow drag, exhaling smoke through his nose like some kind of arrogant god watching his worshipper struggle. Â
âPull them pretty ass titties out," he commands, "You know what a nigga like."Â
With shaky hands, you tug your top down, letting your heavy breasts spill free. Your nipples are already peaked and sensitive, and when your fingers brush over them, you jolt with a breathy gasp.Â
âAhâ!"Â
âKeep goin'," he rumbles, sinking deeper into his seat, blunt dangling between his fingers as he watches you with lazy hunger.
ââAin't tell you to stop."Â
You press your tits together around his thick length, the head of his dick peeking out between the softness of your cleavage. You begin rocking your body, fucking him with your tits in slow, worshipful strokesâ Â
"Mwen renmen w," you mewl again, voice weak and trembling, your swollen lips forming the words between gasps. Â
âSay that shit again.â
âMwen renmen w!" you mewl even deeper, your hips jerking uselessly as your arousal drips down your thighs. Â
He grunts, finally tossing the blunt asideââFuck it. A nigga need yoâ pussy now."
Your fingers clutch at his shoulders, pulling him down as your back hits the leather seatâhis massive frame hovers over you, swallowing you in shadow except for the violet glow of the LED lights streaking across his sweat-slicked skin. Your lips find him again in a weak, sloppy kiss, your mind too fogged with lust to form coherent thoughtsâjust need, just heat, just him.Â
âShow a nigga what he been missinâ.âÂ
Your thighs tremble as you slowly spread your legs wider beneath him, presenting your soaked foldsâpuffy and glistening under the dim light. Â
âBeen waitinâ for you," you whimper, voice cracking with desperation. Â
The words hit him like a match to gasoline. Â
He crashes his mouth back onto yours in a searing kiss before trailing his lips downâlowerâlicking a hot stripe down your neck, sucking bruises into your throat, teeth scraping over your collarbone. Your back arches when his tongue swirls around one taut nipple, then the other, pulling whines from your chest as pleasure spikes through you. Â
But he doesnât stop there. Â
Strong hands grip your thighs, spreading them wider as he licks his lipsâ"Fuck, look at you."Â
And then he dives in. Â
His tongue drags slow and filthy up your slit, savoring you before he buries his face between your legs, nose nudging your clit as he devoursâdeep, hungry strokes of his tongue, curling just right inside you. Â
Your hands fly to his braids, gripping tight as your hips jerkâ Â
"Fuck, baby.âÂ
His response? A low, vibrating growl against your pussy, his fingers digging into your thighs to hold you still as he feasts. Â
Onyankoponâs mouth is filthyâso loud, messy and wet, lips sealing around your clit with a suck that makes your whole body jerk. Saliva and arousal mix in obscene, sloppy sounds, his tongue working you open with rough, languid strokes like he's savoring every damn second. Â
You tuck your chin shyly, peeking down at him through fluttering lashesâhis face buried between your thighs, eyes hooded with satisfaction as he eats you like his last meal. Your fingers tangle in his braids, twisting gently, playing with the silky strands as a soft pout forms on your lips. Â
ââŠMissed playinâ in your hair," you whimper, voice thick with emotionâalmost fragile, like admitting it out loud makes it more real.  Â
âAinât gotta miss it,â he rasps, his tongue plunging deepâ"Keep playinâ in my shit. Gonâ let you braid me up again after you make a fuckinâ mess on me."Â
Your breath hitches, fingers tightening in his hair as you nod frantically, spreading your legs even widerâ"Uh-huhây-yeahâ!"Â Â
Your words dissolve into stupid, slurred nonsenseâ"OnyâfuhhâIâmgonnacââ as your pussy gushes against his mouth, the lewd squelch of his tongue working you over drowning out your weak cries. Your cheeks burn hot, embarrassment and pleasure twisting together as you feel everythingâhis nose grinding against your clit, his lips sucking your folds, his tongue fucking into you in slow, filthy circles. Â
âTaste so fuckinâ good," he growls against your skin, the vibration making you squeal peevishly.
âMwen renmen w..."Â
And just like that? Switch flipped.Â
His grip tightens, lifting your legs effortlessly over his broad shoulders, thumbs rubbing slow circles into the arches of your feet like heâs savoring the feel of you. Â
âKeep tellinâ a nigga you love him,â he grunts, voice low and roughâ"Letâs have a conversation."Â
You whimper, arms looping around his neck, pulling him closer until his forehead presses against yoursâbreaths mingling, hearts pounding. Â
âMwen renmen w," you whisper again, barely audible, lips brushing his with each syllable. Â
And thenâoh Godâyou feel him. His thick length slaps against your soaked folds, the blunt head nudging at your entrance, already making your body tense in anticipation. Â
âYeah, huh? Talk to me."Â
You nod frantically, pliant eyes struggling to focus as he starts to sink inâslow, so damn slowâstretching you in a way you havenât felt in too long. Â
Your face twistsâlips parting around a shaky gaspâas the fullness steals your breath. And then? Emotion hits you like a tidal wave. Â
Tears prick at your eyes, your chest swelling with something so big it hurts. You feel connectedâlike his soul is pressing into yours with every inch. Â
âMwen renmen w," you sobâweakest yet, voice crackingâas he finally bottoms out, his hips flush against your ass. Â
His groan is guttural, hands tightening on your thighsââFuck, mamaâI know."Â
And then he moves.
His strokes are borderline punishingâeach thrust forcing a choked gasp from your throat, the stretch of him bordering on too much, too deep, too everything. Yet your body clings to him greedily, walls fluttering around his length like itâs been starvedârewarding him for every inch he takes, every brutal snap of his hips that leaves you whimpering. Â
Your toes curl, thighs trembling where theyâre hooked over his shoulders. One large hand fists at the nape of your hair, yanking your face close to his until your foreheads knock togetherâyour head jerks back with each rough thrust, lips parted in a shaky pout, tears spilling over your flushed cheeks. Â
Weak little sobs hitch in your chest with every drive of his hips, your nails digging crescent moons into the sweat-slick muscles of his back. Between broken moans, your voice cracksâsoft, vulnerableâ Â
âHurtsâseeinâ you leave," you sniffle, brows knitting together, âDâdonâtâŠwanna do that againâŠâÂ
His glare darkens, jaw tightening as he rams into you harderâdeeperâa grunt tearing from his chest as his breath fans hot over your face. Â
âThen donât," he snarls, voice raw with possessiveness, "Ainât goinâ nowhere if you keep takinâ dick like this.âÂ
Your next cry is swallowed by his mouthâhis kiss bruising, tongue forcing its way past your lips as if to silence your doubts. And god help you, you let himâmelting into the pain, the pleasure, the promise in every snap of his hips. Â
Youâre silent nowâpast words, past whimpersâjust taking him, your body trembling under the sheer weight of his dominance. The only sound is the obscene squelch of your pussy creaming around him, gushing embarrassingly with every withdrawal of his thick length. Â
âThatâs itâtake this shit. Ainât no runninâ now,â he growls, watching your teary eyes roll back as your walls clench around him. Â
A surrendering little sob escapes you once moreâweak, brokenâyour hands limply gripping his shoulders as he fucks you through it, his pace never faltering. Â
âFuck, girlâyou drippinâ all on me."Â
And you areâsoaking his thighs, the leather seats, everything. Your orgasm wrings you out in slow, torturous waves as he uses you, claims you, ruins you.Â
His touch softens just enough to sootheâcalloused fingers brushing away your tears as he kisses you through your cries, lips lingering against yours in a rare moment of tenderness.
âMâsorry,â he just grunts, voice rough with sincerity.
âAinât leavinâ you again."Â
Your nods and whimpers dissolve into another aching climax, your pussy pulsing around him as you drown in the love, the passion, the need. Itâs a moment that could last forever.Â
But just like that? The mood shifts.Â
His grip tightens, flipping you effortlessly onto your knees, face pressed into the leather as he drags you back onto his lapâass up, his dick buried to the hilt inside you. Your feet tuck atop his thighs, heels digging in as you let out a tiny, shuddering âOâOohâ!"Â
You start slow. Rolling your hips back tentatively, but he then growls, âTake yoâ time. âThis dick ainât goinâ nowhere.âÂ
The command is clear. Â
You listen, setting a rhythmâslow, deliberateâskin slapping together in a steady, filthy clap that fills the heavy silence. Your thighs tremble, face smushed into the seat as your whimpers grow louderâ"OâO-oohâ!"Â
Onyankoponâs hand cracks down on your ass, ââThere she goâ. My lilâ nasty ass bitch."Â
Your fingers slip between your lips, stifling your moans as you rock back onto him, ass quaking with each bounce. Â
âI ainât movinâ," he warns, "Give me a fuckinâ show.âÂ
You press a shaky hand against his abdomen for leverage, sitting up just enough to feel him deeperâtoo deepâhitting a spot so painfully good your body locks up.
His grip tightens around your waist as you whimperâ"Ooh, shit!â before desperately bouncing your ass back onto him, the sound of skin slapping skin deafening in the enclosed space. Â
And then? Your pussy farts around him for the thousandth time, wet and obscene, the vibration dragging a trembling groan from your throatââOoooh, mygodâPapaâ!"Â
You were never loud like this.Â
Your moans drag outâwhiny, high-pitched, annoyed with yourself because you canât stop them, each thrust pulling another pathetic sound from your lips. Â
Onyankoponâs hand slips around your torso, calloused fingers cupping beneath your breasts where his name brands into your skinâitâs effortless. Heâs bouncing you down onto his dick like you weigh nothing, your legs kicking weakly as your cream paints his length.  Â
âYou gonâ keep takinâ this muhfuckaâ like you missed it.âÂ
And you doâeach bounce, each squelch, each fatty noise your pussy makes proving it. Â
"Thatâs my muhfuckinâ girl."Â
Your head falls back against his shoulder, mouth drooling, eyes rolling, body melting. He owns you.Â
His thick forearm presses against your throat, the pressure just enough to make your vision blur at the edges as he fucks into you with even more brutal, punishing strokes. His jaw rests heavy atop your head, your weak panting the only sound you can manage past the tightness in your windpipeâyour body submitting under his dominance. Â
âMmmfâhot," you mewl, sweat slicked skin sticking to his, the air in the car suffocating. Â
Without breaking rhythm, Onyankopon reaches over and rolls the window down, the sudden rush of night air hitting your overheated skinâ Â
Oh God.Â
Your noisesâthose pathetic, whimpering, creaming soundsâare now free to echo into the quiet neighborhood. Â
Panicked, you reach a shaky hand toward the window switchâbut his grip tightens around your throat, cutting off your air as he rams up into you, all while tugging you down onto his dick even harder.Â
âNnghâ!" you choke, humiliation burning through you as you clench around him. Â
âYou whininâ like a bitch,â he grunts directly into your ear, the vibration shooting straight to your core. Â
Then, with a final rough tug, he forces your face toward the open windowâforcing you to see the dimly lit houses, the quiet streetsâhis people, his city. Â
âLet everybody know Iâm back home.â
And you scream. His name ripping from your throat, raw and unhinged.Â
âMwen renmen w,â he growls between thrusts, the Creole rolling off his tongue like honey mixed with gravelâyour words, your love, thrown back at you with the same raw intensity youâd given him all night. Â
Your body jerks as he nutsâdeep, so deepâhis release flooding you in thick, pulsing waves that make your thighs quiver.Â
For a long moment, thereâs nothing but heavy breathingâhis chest rising and falling against your back, your own breath hitching in your throat as aftershocks ripple through you. Â
Then, weakly, you tilt your head up, catching his lips in one last, tender kissâyour little cries soft against his mouth, voice trembling with everythingârelief, exhaustion, love. Â
Your body melts back against his chest, muscles lax and satisfied as you peer out through the cracked window at the quiet streets of the 7th Ward. The humid night air carries the distant hum of cicadas and the faint bassline of someoneâs music drifting from a porch down the block. His warmth presses into your back, steadying, as you tilt your head to murmur against his skinâ Â
âWhere would we go... if we left?"Â
For a beat, he stillsâhis breath huffing against your damp shoulder before he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, lips brushing the sensitive skin there.Â
âWherever you wanna be, girl. âLong as itâs got a bed that can take how I fuck you."Â
A weak giggle bubbles from your throatâbut then you say it, the words slipping out before you can second-guess them.Â
ââM serious, Papa. I think itâs time to get out the 7th.âÂ
You feel his surprise, the way his grip tightens reflexively around your waist.
âWhere âthis cominâ from?â  Â
You swallow, suddenly shy.Â
"Been thinkinâ... âbout quiet. âBout space. âBout youâusâsomewhere ainât nobody knockinâ on the door.â
His fingers trace idle patterns on your hip as he murmurs, âA crib up in the Art District âdonât sound bad."
âGives more space for Bear to run around."
âYeah," he agrees, "A nigga could look into some trade schools âround there too."Â
Wait.Â
 You turn slightly in his arms, searching his face.Â
âYouâre serious?"Â
He nods. Then he says itâwords heavy with the weight of a future heâs choosing.
ââWanna give you a ring. A child. âCanât do allatâ beinâ on the streets.â
Your heart swells.Â
You clutch his face as you say, âIt doesnât matter who you are to everybody else. You got me. I love you more than life itself, Onyankopon.âÂ
He grunts low in his throatâthen crashes his lips against yours in a kiss so deep, so emotional, it makes you giggle against his mouth, cheeks burning. Â
âWe finnaâ go get a ring right fuckinâ now.âÂ
You giggle once more, pressing a hand to his chest.Â
"Letâs make it into the house first, yeah? We need a shower."Â
"Aight. Immaâ fuck you again in there."Â
You squeak as he hoists you up, your half naked body tucked tight against his chest as he steps out into the humid night. A few voices call out from porches down the blockââAye, Ony back home!"âcheery, thick with that Southern lilt.Â
You nestle your face against the sweat damp skin of his collarbone before murmuring, ââŠThe 7th ainât so bad with you here."Â
When you peer up, his gaze is already locked on youâdark, heavy, full of something that makes your stomach flip. Â
âA nigga couldnât ask for anythinâ more than yoâ love.â
Before you can respondâscratch scratch scratchâBearâs massive paws hit the front door, his excited whines vibrating through the wood. Â
Onyankopon just chuckles, adjusting you in his arms as he kicks the door open. And the last thing the neighborhood hears before it slams shut? Your giggles, his grunt as Bear tackles him, and the thud of all three of you entering inside with a heap.Â
Tags - big dick Carmy Berzatto (specs in the fic), talking you through it, oral sex, unprotected piv, creampie, hella size kink, dubcon aspects, gentle dom!carmy, painful sex, youâre kind of a crybaby. 2k words
Youâve never been much for fluorescent lighting. Itâs terrible, isnât it? Migraine-inducing, though what isnât migraine-inducing here? Between all the constant fucking yelling and the unending onslaught of demands and problems, well. Itâs enough to make anyone fucking nuts. You wonder daily what the hell you got yourself into, and whenâs a good time to leave.Â
The clock on the wall shows the time, 1:57 AM. You can do five more minutes, at least. Five more minutes of this - Carmyâs tongue lapping at your folds, his strong nose rubbing against your clit - and youâll be cumming. The fluorescent lighting of Carmyâs kitchen doesnât much bother you when your eyes are squeezed shut as he fucks you on his tongue. The once-cold marble counter is now warm with your body heat, and there will be a mess left on it when Carmyâs done with you, cleaned away with the rest of the dayâs work.Â
âCarmy,â you pant, looking down at him as he eats you. Heâs got two fingers deep in your cunt, stroking away at that delicate place inside you. You canât see the lower half of his face, only his gorgeous, striking blue eyes. Itâs amazing how much of his iris has been eaten by pupil, all that endless, sparkling black.Â
Carmyâs half-naked, and one of your knees is tossed over his broad shoulders. His free hand is on your thigh, squeezing you to keep you still when you start to shake, losing yourself to your own pleasure. Carmy draws circle after circle onto your throbbing, aching clit, steadily pushing you to meet your peak. Youâre making a mess of him, you know. Dripping down his reddened, swollen lips and his chin, dripping down his calloused fingers and into his palm, too. Itâs a good thing. Heâll need you soaked. Youâll need yourself soaked.Â
He holds you tight when you cum, fucking you through it all on his skillful tongue. His messy curls are tangled around your fingers, and youâre tugging hard enough to hurt him - not that Carmy minds any, no. Heâs all but numb to physical pain at this point, that tolerance built up through years of burns and sliced fingers and aching feet that stood for too many hours on end. Youâre moaning incoherently until youâre not, instead moaning broken whimpers of his name, in between breathy pleas to stop, Carmy. S - too much, too much. Mâdone, Carmy. Fuck, fuck, pleaseâŠÂ Â
Carmy pulls away finally and wipes his mouth on your inner thigh, then stands up. You kiss him then, tasting yourself on your lips. Your hands are on his cheeks, flushed the most gorgeous shade of red, then travel lower. Down his thick neck, taking care to trace the pulsing veins in his throat. They stop at his shoulders and you allow yourself to squeeze his biceps before sliding down his toned torso, reaching for the button of his pants. Carmy stops you, and you give him a look.
Heâs hiding something. You can see in his eyes that he is, and you wonder whatâs up. âCarm?â
âItâs okay,â he says. âJust close your eyes.âÂ
âWhy?âÂ
âBecause I want you to, okay? Would you do that for me? Please?âÂ
You smile, tilt your head. âIs it a surprise?âÂ
Carmy exhales shakily, pulling his tattooed hand down his face. âYeah, maybe. Just close âem, okay?â You look at Carmy skeptically, but gently close your eyes anyway, nerves on fire as you anxiously anticipate what comes next.Â
Carmy takes a deep breath, then unbuttons his pants and reaches into them. He knows heâll hurt you, thatâs all, and he doesnât need you to be intimidated by his size. Thatâs why he doesnât let you look, and itâs why he doesnât let you feel. Itâs like getting bloodwork done, right? Youâll feel that pinch either way, but itâll be worse if you watch it happen. So donât look.Â
He pulls himself out and reaches between your thighs, using your arousal to lubricate his length, then repeats the action. He spits into his palm for good measure, too.
Carmy spreads your legs and tilts your hips and god, youâre feeling fucking electric. You feel it everywhere, in your fingers and toes and in your fluttering stomach. Itâd be a disservice to yourself not to witness his cock parting your folds, right? And fuck Carmy, anyway - how many times a day does he ignore you?Â
He positions himself at your entrance, then slides his cockhead through your slippery folds. Right as he notches himself inside you and you feel the initial, painful stretch of that, you open your eyes to get a look at that completely gorgeous and utterly erotic sight.
Your face drops and your lips part, at a total loss for words. You shake your head and try to squirm away, but Carmy keeps you right at your place on the countertop, holding up a hand. âCarmyââ
âNo, no, no, donât get all fuckinâ freaked out, okay? Itâs gonna be fine.âÂ
âMm-mm, Carmy. Youâre fucking - you - youâreââ
âItâs gonna be fine,â he repeats. âHey - itâs. Fine. You can do this.âÂ
âAre you sure?â
âYes, Iâm sure.âÂ
You should have expected it, honestly. It was naive to think Carmy would be anything less than above average, when the rest of him is so fuckingâŠbig. All that man, those big fucking shoulders and his thick thighs, that big personality. His hands are big too, knuckles are thick and his fingers are long.Â
Eyeing his cock, it looks maybe eight inches in length, give or take. Fuck, not that thatâd help you any. Heâs girthy, and thick like a fucking beer can. Maybe even more than that. Youâre not sure you could wrap one of your hands all the way around him, and that scares you. He curves gently to the right, and his pubic hair looks like itâs not been trimmed in a while.Â
âIâm not gonna hurt you,â he whispers.Â
âYou already are,â you reply. Carmy looks up and away, sighing heavily. He runs his hand through his hair and then firmly holds your hips, making you squeak when he inches himself a hair further into you. And this is exactly why he didnât want you to look. But hey, whatever can go wrong, will go wrong, right? Does he not experience that law every day in this godforsaken restaurant?Â
You cry out, watching in distress as Carmy readies to fit himself deeper into you. âHey, relax, okay? Donât look, honey. Eyes on me. Can you do that, hm? Can you look at me?â Carmy stops you from shaking your head, then holds your cheek in his large palm. âYou can look at me. Right here. Weâll do it a little bit at a time, yeah?âÂ
âI donât know, Carm,â you tell him. âFuck, itâs scary.â Â
âNah, itâs not scary,â Carmy murmurs, pushing into you a little more. âYou got thick skin, donât you? Youâd have to, right? Working here, for me,â he jokes, though you donât laugh. Humor never was his strong suit.Â
âNo,â you mumble.
âOh, I think youâre full of shit. Yes, you do.âÂ
The argument stops there for no reason beyond thatâs simply Carmyâs will. If he lets it go on, youâll be here all fucking night crying with his cock all but an inch inside you. Heâs not mean about it, heâs not forceful. Heâs justâŠassertive. And you need that, donât you? His gentle yet firm hand nudging you into place. Carmy gives you a kiss, then tells you that you can do this.Â
Your eyes drop to where his body begins to meet yours as he slides into you so excruciatingly slowly, all that length stuffing you nearly full already, and heâs not even a quarter of the way in. You moan in pain, wriggling in his grasp as he fills you.Â
âDonât look, donât look, donât look. Right here, sweetheart,â he reminds you, maintaining steady eye contact with you as he guides himself into your slick, aching cunt, ignoring the pain of your nails digging into his muscled shoulders. âEasy - woah, easy. Let up,â he tells you when you squeeze him. Not that he doesnât love your tight fucking pussy, but you really are only making it worse for yourself. And Carmyâs not a psychopath, despite what Richie says. He doesnât want to hurt you. God, never. You already have such a low pain tolerance to begin with. You canât handle a cut or a burn the way others usually can, and thatâs not a flaw on your part, but it is something that probably needs to be worked on. Heâs just helping you, is all.Â
Your face breaks, the pain written in your expression. Itâs your furrowed brows, your frown, your worried eyes. Carmy slides maybe four inches into you, about halfway there. âWeâll take a minute,â Carmy says, pausing. He keeps you where you are and reaches for a nearby plastic takeout container full of ice water, taking a sip for himself before offering it to you.Â
Youâre a fucking wreck. Thereâs tears streaming down your cheeks, which Carmy wipes away with a gentle swipe of his thumb. âYeah, thatâs it,â he says, waiting patiently for you to finish. He takes the container back from you and sets it down.Â
âI know it hurts,â Carmy says, breathing deeply. âBut youâre doing good, okay?â His neck and chest are flushed, too, all red and splotchy. His skin is damp with his own sweat. He feels for you, really. He wouldnât want to be in your position either, truth be told.Â
âPromise?âÂ
âYeah. Fuck, yeah.â Carmy rubs your cheeks, offering you a sympathetic look. And youâre still fucking squeezing him, even while heâs not actively pushing into you. Poor thing, only hurting yourself. Carmy knows what your answerâs gonna be when he asks you, âHow about I rip off the bandaid, huh? Let me do that?âÂ
Your eyes widen and you shake your head. âNo, no, Carmyââ
âYes, yes. Yes, because weâre gonna get nowhere if you keep fuckinâ squeezing on me like that, huh?âÂ
âIâm not trying to.âÂ
âI know youâre not trying to. Just let meââ Carmy sighs and wipes sweat off of his brow, then takes your hips and thrusts into you quickly and smoothly, eliciting a sharp noise of pain from you. You feel him deep inside yourself, and itâs painful in every conceivable way. The stretch, the dull ache that comes from his cockhead hitting your cervix.Â
âCarmy!âÂ
âMm, my fuckinâ girl,â he groans, bottoming out inside of you. âYeah, there. There, okay? Worst is over,â he tells you, knowing thatâs probably not true. The song and dance happens all over again as he pulls out of you and then pushes back in, the pain dissipated then renewed. He hushes your whines as he moves his hips, looking down at his cock all coated in creamy rings of your arousal.Â
Pleasure comes eventually, which makes it all easier, though only marginally so. Carmyâs thick fucking cock fucking you in half is a sensation you never get used to. The ache and the fullness is ever present, never vanishing. Itâs so big and so fucking commanding, so inevitable. âOh, Carmy. Fuck me, oh my god.âÂ
âOh, fuck, fuck, fuck,â Carmy moans, steadily snapping his hips into you. âSo fuckinâ - fuck, youâre tight.âÂ
Carmy rubs your clit to bring near your orgasm while chasing his own, losing the rhythm he had going. He fucks you wildly, pulling your hips off the counter, his heavy balls slapping against you. When you cum, the fierce pulsing of your cunt coaxes his own, and Carmy empties himself into you. He makes the most beautiful noises as he does so, breathing heavily through his nose when heâs done.Â
You whimper when he pulls out of you, feeling satisfied by your orgasm, and relieved that itâs over. Carmy reaches for a nearby dish towel and wets it with water, then comes back to you. He nudges your thighs apart, then crouches down. âLet me see, let me look,â he says, assessing the damage. Your poor cunt is gaping, dripping his cum, and your folds are all puffy and swollen. He gently cleans you with the towel, then has you press the cloth against your center. âHold that there for a minute, yeah? Youâre okay, dude.âÂ
Carmy cleans himself up, then goes back to cleaning the kitchen. Heâs got a few things left to do before locking up for the night.Â
đàŸàœČ warnings .á + word countâ 5.4K, southern coded!black characters, houston nightlife vibes!, club!vibes, birthday!themed, original!blackfemreader, pouty!blackfemreader, shy!femreader, rappergirlfriend!blackfemreader, rapperboyfriend!onyankopon, southerncoded!onyankopon, aggressive!onyankopon, sweet!onyankopon, dominant!onyankopon, drunk sex!, dirty talk, rough sex, kinda mean ony in the bedroom?, aggressive pet names, pussy eating, squirting, creaming, missionary, doggy style, minors are not welcome! đàŸàœČ
ăĄăąăâ just wanted to say i appreciate all the love you guys are sending me, god bless. wanted to do something in celebration of being back homeâand appreciating my city/the south for what it is. enjoy, muah. â°
CHOPPED âN SCREWED BLARES FROM THE SPEAKERS OF A PARKED 1989 CADILLAC DEVILLE COUPE, THRUMMING YOUR HEARTBEAT MORE THAN YOU INTENDED FOR IT TOâyup, that was Houston for you.Â
Heat clings to your skin like honey as you stand outside the club clutching an oversized bouquet of pink roses, each petal cradling crisp one hundred dollar bills like secrets. Candied painted vehicles bounce on hydraulics not too far away, rattling your ribs as they swang by, each driverâs golden grills flashing under streetlights as they swerve the block. The line stretches down the street in anticipationâfull of southern attitudes sucking teeth at the velvet ropes and fingers adjusting diamond encrusted Jesus pieces, all waiting to get a taste of your night.Â
Women in bandage dresses and sky high lashes shout âHappy birthday, baby girl!â while men nod at you with respectâknowing youâre his.
Itâs overwhelming, really ; the way the city moves for your boyfriend. Youâve seen it beforeâarenas screaming his name, groupies slipping numbers in his pocket when they think youâre not looking, the way his crew forms a wall of muscle and laughter around him. But tonight? Tonight, the chaos is yours.Â
âONYANKOPON! ONYANKOPON! ONYANKOPON!âÂ
The screams rip through the humid air like gunshots, raw and hungry. Security arms barricade the crowd, pushing back eager hands reaching for himâalways reachingâbut your eyes lock onto him like a magnet. Even in the sea of his crew, all thick-necked and draped in ice, he drowns them out. Â
That 74 piece on his neck swings heavy, silver so deep it looks liquid under the club lights. His black long sleeve hugs every ridge of muscle, letterman jacket hiding the ink you know maps his bodyâand there it is, your name curled in delicate cursive above his eyebrow, etched into his skin like a prayer. Those cornrows and facial hair frames his face just right, and when he smirksâGodâthose diamond-capped grills flash, arrogant and knowing. Â
He lifts his chain between two fingers, nodding at the crowd like yeah, yâall know who I am, and your stomach flips. Because through all the chaos, the women biting their lips at him, the city screaming his nameâŠtonight, that smirk? Itâs all for you. Always is.
But youâalways the quiet storm in the middle of his hurricane. The diamond in the rough he pulled from New Orleans back when he was just another hungry artist looking for their break. You were the girl who brought him red beans and rice in a Tupperware after long studio nights, who rolled your eyes when he bragged too loud, who made him feel human when the world started treating him like a god. Â
And he knows youâknows the way your fingers twist together when cameras swarm, the soft âThank you," you murmur when someone compliments your outfit like youâre still not used to it. Knows how your cheeks flush rose gold when you see yourself trending on Twitter, your face plastered across blogs with captions of your celebration.  Â
But tonight? Youâre glowing. Bubblegum pink curls cascade down your back, framing a face dusted with freckles like constellations against caramel skin. Your lashesâthick, dark, felineâflutter over your eyes, lips painted a brown mixed with deep rouge so rich it looks like youâve been biting guava fruit. That tiny heart pendant rests in the valley of your heavy tits, right above the plunge of your halter romperâblack, clinging, backlessâcut so low at the front it kisses your bellybutton. The fabric hugs every curveâthe swell of your hips, the jut of your ass peeking beneath the hem, down to those platform heels adding inches you donât even need. And there he isâthe proof etched into your own skin. Onyankopon in delicate cursive on the side of your neck, a claim and a promise all at once. His. Always his.Â
"Damn, shawty fineâfine!"Â
Someone hollers this from the crowd, and you giggleâa soft, flustered soundâas fans erupt in whistles. Onyankoponâs crew ainât helping either, hyping you up like youâre the main event, because you absolutely are.Â
âPose for us, girl! Câmon, let âem see dat!"Â
They chant continuously, clapping like uncles at a family cookout. Onyankopon then cuts in with a low, âAight, chill. Yâall gonâ have my baby blushinâ to the floor.â
Security moves quicklyâone of them plucks the bouquet from your grip before you can protest, knowing Onyankopon runs a tight ship when it comes to you. No heavy lifting, no stress, no bullshit. Then heâs there, his big hands sliding up your throat, thumbs brushing your jaw as he tugs your forehead against his. The scent of his cologneâsomething smoky, expensiveâwraps around you. Â
"Sa a pi gwo pase mwen te panse li ta dwe," you murmur, voice barely above a whisper. Â
This is bigger than I thought itâd be.Â
He grinsâthose diamond grills catch the light instantly, his palms sliding down to grip your ass, pulling you flush against him.
âAinât nunâ too big for my lady," he rumbles back in English, deep enough to vibrate through your chest. When he sees your faceâeyes wide, lips partedâhe chuckles, shaking his head, ââYou so âshy, girl."Â
âSorry," you whisper.Â
Instantly? Heâs smacking his lips, tilting your chin up. Â
âAinât shit to apologize for."Â
His thumb swipes over your bottom lip, smudging your lipstick just a littleââYou ready to go in?"
You nod, and his monstrous hand swallows yours whole as he leads you inside, the crowd parting like the Red Sea. The club pulses with neon and bass, but all you feel is himâsolid, unshakable, yoursâguiding you through the chaos like he always does.
The club is dripping in your essenceâpink neon lights bleed into black velvet drapes, silver glitter raining from the ceiling like rockstar confetti. Ice sculptures glisten near the VIP carved into your initials, while larger-than-life prints of your sexiest photoshoots line the wallsâthat one where you wore nothing but a leather harness, that one with your curls wild and lips parted like a sigh. Â
Then the DJ scratches the beatââAyo, put yoâ hands up for the birthday girl!â
And of course, the crowd explodes. Onyankopon guides you to center stage, and you follow with a giggle, hips already swaying to the bassline thumping through the floor. The energy is electric, contagiousâstrangers and friends screaming, "Happy birthday, mama!" like theyâve known you forever. Â
For a moment you forget to be shy. You drop Onyankoponâs hand, turning to face the crowd with a smirk. Nail between your teeth, you bend over slowâass out, back archedâthen pop back up with a wink. The room loses it. Youâre grinning now, covering your face as you dart back to Onyankopon, burying your head against his chest like you can hide from the attention. Â
But he wonât let you, of course.Â
âNah, nahâlet âem see you," he growls, spinning you back around as the crowd roarsââThis shit mine. Yâall better muhfuckinâ know!â
The moment his lips press against your temple, the crowd Awwwâs! like theyâre watching a rom-com. You retaliate by pecking his jaw, and the reaction is even louder, making you shake your head with a shy smile.  Â
âAight, aightâyâall ready to turn this bitch up?â
What follows is pure, glittering chaosâa montage of you shedding every last bit of shyness. Â
Dark liquor burns your throat as you pour shots straight into peopleâs mouths, laughing when they cough. You twirl with the bottle girls, hips swinging in sync, their sequin bikinis catching the light as they hype you up. Cameras flash everywhereâyou pout in one, bite your lip in another, then flip your curls over your shoulder in a third, each shot sexier than the last. Â
Onyankoponâs watching, always watching. He takes pics with fans, dapping up homies, but his eyes keep finding youâchecking. And when you finally collide for your own photos, the chemistry is stupid. Â
He drags you into a gentle headlock, his diamond grills gleaming as you stick your tongue out playfully. The next shot? Your tongue slides against his, slow and teasing, the camera catching the exact moment he grunts, pulling back to warn you. Â
âChill, girl. You tryna make me act up in here?"Â
Your giggle is the only answer he gets before youâre whisked away by the next wave of celebrationâbut his hand stays locked with yours, a tether in the storm.
The liquor has fully seeped into your veins now, transforming you into something elseâsomething bolder, wilder, dripping with a different kind of magnetism. Your curls are tousled, framing a face where freckles pop against flushed skin, your dark eyes glaring at Onyankopon from across the room like a challenge. Youâre even touchy nowâfingers tracing the thick veins in his arms, dragging his palms to your ass with a smirk, even rubbing his ears the way you do when yâall are alone, just to watch his jaw tighten.Â
Then the DJ cuts into his musicâOnyankoponâs got the mic now, voice rough as he spits bars over his own beat. The club knows every word, screaming them back, but you? Youâre swaying in that gentle headlock of his, hips rolling against him like youâre trying to start a fire. Â
The music quickly swirls back into a playlist of other artistsâback of the club by kwn slithering through the speakers, and the lights bleed deep pink. Â
Onyankoponâs hand now slides to the back of your neck, possessive, commanding, as he bends you over slow. Your ass grinds against him in perfect sync with the beat, your curls tumbling forward as you glance back at him over your shoulderâeyes locked. The crowd loses it, phones raised, but itâs just you and him in this moment. Â
âGoddamn," he mutters, low enough for only you to hear, before yanking you upright and into a kiss thatâs more claim than anything else. The club erupts once more, but all you taste is himâwhiskey, arrogance, and something dangerously close to adoration.
The energy shifts againânow you're fully in your element, drunk and free, leaning against the railing with your ass throwing back against Onyankopon as he performs again. His voice is rough, commanding, lyrics dripping with that signature arrogance that always makes your stomach flip. And he knows itâgrinning down at you with those diamond grills flashing, his brown skin glistening under the club lights. Â
The final hour of the party is pure Houston chaosâbass rattling chests, drinks splashing, laughter ringing over chopped and screwed beats. But then your mood shifts one more time. The liquor, the heat, the way his hands keep finding your waistâit all boils over into a needy, whiny pout as you press yourself against him. Â
"Iâm hot.âÂ
Your voice is dripping with that drunk, sexy irritation only he gets to hear. Your fingers dig into his arms, lips brushing his earââAnd I wanna be alone with you, Ony.âÂ
He gruntsââBehave," though thereâs no real bite to it. Then, softer, lips grazing your temple, âWe âbout to leave. âGot a surprise for you."Â
A few minutes later, heâs on the mic, thanking everyone for coming, telling them to head outside. The crowd follows, buzzing with curiosity, until they see itâan all white Rolls Royce Cullinan parked at the curb, massive bow on top, stacks of cash arranged in the trunk like a damn art piece. Designer purses, jewelry boxes, and other expensive gifts spill out from the backseat. Your hands fly to your mouth, pout trembling as you try so hard not to cry. But when you turn to him? Heâs already smirkingâlike he knew this would wreck you.
The moment you swing open the car door, a squeak slips past your lipsâgirlish, giddyâat the sight of the custom interior. Soft pink leather seats, silver trim, even your initials stitched into the headrests. The crowd erupts again, phones snapping rapid fire pictures as you lean against the car, hips cocked, lips parted in a sultry smirk. Â
Onyankopon howls from the sidelines, hyping you up with every poseââThere go my baby! Yeah, do that lilâ twist again!", as you pop your ass out just a little more, smiling when the cameras go wild. Â
But as the chaos finally starts to fade? Your hands find his neck, fingers tracing the tattoos thereâyour name in cursive once more, forever inked into his skin in different parts of his body.Â
âDo you know how much I love you?"Â
He smirks. Those diamond grills catch the streetlight as he murmurs, âEnough to have a nigga name tatted where you always want my hand at."Â
âIâm serious, Onyankopon.âÂ
For once, the cockiness flickers. His eyes soften just for a second before he pulls you closer, lips grazing your earâ Â
âI know."
Then, quieter, rougher, like itâs a secret just for youâ Â
âA nigga love you âsum dangerous, girl."Â
The night had already been everythingâthe club, the gifts, the way the city screamed your name like you were royalty. But now? A different kind of heat pulses through you, thick and sweet, settling low between your thighs as Onyankopon carries you over his shoulder into the condo. Â
Downtown Houston glitters beneath you from the floor-to-ceiling windows of your penthouse, the city lights painting streaks of gold across the marble floors. Youâre giggling, drunk and giddy, your bubblegum pink curls tumbling around your face as he strides through the living room. Your ass bounces over his shoulder, heels pointed to the ceilingâhe holds you like you weigh nothing, like youâre his to carry, his to keep. Â
Then he tosses his keys onto the counter with a clatter, and you finally see itâthe bedroom.Â
Balloons float near the ceiling, rose petals scattered across the silk sheets, stacks of cash arranged in neat rows on the nightstand like some kind of decadent altar. LED lights bathe everything in a deep, sultry pink, and you shriek, kicking your legs excitedly as he finally deposits you onto the bed. Â
Onyankopon chuckles as you immediately reach for him, fingers clutching his shirtââDonât leave," you whine, voice thick with liquor and lust. Â
He leans down, pressing a kiss to the tip of your noseâ"Iâm âfinna get you some water, yoâ ass turnt up.âÂ
âIâm not drunk," you lie, even as the room spins just a little when you sit up. Â
"Yeah? Then tell me what my middle name is."Â
You blink. Shit.Â
âLay here, immaâ be quick.âÂ
The seconds stretch into eternity as you wait for him, sprawled across the silk sheets like a paintingâyour fingers tracing idle, teasing paths along your own curves, drunk in a way that even your own touch feels electric tonight. Every brush of fabric, every shift of your hips sends sparks through you, your senses dialed up to ten under the haze of liquor and desire. Â
âYou aight in there?"Â
You whine in response, dragging out the sound like a spoiled childâ"I wanna hear some music, OnyâŠââ voice dripping with a pout so thick it could drown him. Â
And of course, he obliges. The smooth bass of Let emâ know by Bryson Tiller slinks through the speakers seconds later, the rhythm slow, seductiveâperfect. When he reappears in the doorway, water bottle in hand, your breath catches. Heâs all possessive energy nowâshoulders broad, jaw set, eyes dark as they rake over you. Â
âSit up. Drink this,â he orders, voice gruff but edged with something softer. Â
You wiggle deeper into the sheets, shaking your headâ"Nooo."Â
His brow arches, and thatâs all you needed to know he wasnât repeating himself. You huff but obey, pushing yourself up on shaky armsâhe brings the bottle to your lips, and you sip obediently, your eyes locked on his the entire time. Â
You must look ridiculousâcurls tangled around your face, freckles standing out against the deep flush of your cheeks, those feline lashes batting up at him like youâre not the one who just spent the last hour grinding on him in front of half of Houston. Â
But he doesnât laugh. Doesnât tease. Â
He just watchesâlike youâre the only thing in the world worth seeing.Â
âTonight was so...so sweet, Ony.â
âMhm.â
âLikeâthe gifts? The way everybody was screaming for me?â
âMhm.â
âThe way you looked at me when I was dancingâ"Â
Onyankopon just nods, chuckling low in his chest as he watches you, his dark eyes tracing every animated expression that crosses your face. Youâre drunk, so drunk, but he lets you talkâlets you relive every second of the night with that dreamy, intoxicated glee.  Â
Then he reaches for your ankles, and you instinctively tilt your leg back, pouting. Â
"You donât like them?"Â
You wiggle your feet, showcasing the platform stilettosâblack, strappy, with a heart-shaped heel that glimmers under the soft pink LED lights. Â
"Nah, shawty. âThey sexy as hell," he admits, voice rough, "But you âbeen dancinâ all night. Let a nigga rub yoâ feet."Â
You bite your lip, consideringâthen, with a slow, deliberate smirk, you spread your legs wider, leaning back against the pillows as you click your heels together playfully. Â
âMmm...but the musicâs still on," you murmur, swaying your legs in a slow, teasing rhythmâhips rolling just slightly, like youâre still dancing even lying down. Â
Onyankoponâs jaw clenches. Â
You giggleâsultry, knowingâas you arch your back just a little, letting the dress ride up your thighs. Â
ââŠI wanna perform for youâŠâ
And just like that? Â
The game changes.
â"Iâm right here, watchinâ."Â
Thatâs all the permission you need. Â
Your body moves effortlesslyâliquid, sinfulâ youâre even rolling onto your knees, crawling toward him with a smirk. Your fingers trail up his thighs before slipping beneath his shirt, tracing the hard ridges of his tattooed abs. He exhales sharply as you peel the fabric off him, leaving him bare chestedânothing but chains, diamond-studded jewelry, and those gleaming grills between his lips. You then turn around, arching yourself against the bed, ass high in the air as you start bouncingâslow at first, then faster, your hips rolling in perfect rhythm. Â
"You playinâ.â
 His palm cracks against your assâhard.Â
You gasp, giggling and whining, your hips jerking forward from the sting. He doesnât let up, spanking you again and again, each slap punctuated by his rough voiceâ Â
ââThis what you wanted, huh? Actinâ like shit sweetâ"Â
Smack!
ââKnowinâ immaâ fuck yoâ ass up.â Â
The final one has you collapsing onto the bed, breathless, legs instinctively spreadingâjust like before. But this time? Â
Your fingers hook into the thin straps of your pink thong, tugging it to the side to reveal the drenched folds of your pussy, glistening under the dim light. Â
âOny..."
You whimper, voice pitiful, desperate.
 âIâm so wet. Come eat your pussy, Papa.âÂ
And just like that? Â
He moves.Â
Onyankopon is a man of many talentsâfiery with his words, lethal with his rhymesâbut this? This is where he truly masters you. Â
The moment his mouth crashes between your thighs, itâs sloppy, messy, all wet heat and hungry suction. His tongue laps at you like heâs starved, his lips sealing around your clit as he shakes his head in it, making your back arch off the bed. Your legs spread wider, knees trembling, toes curling into your heels as your pussy squelches around his tongueâloud, obscene, the kind of sound that would make you blush if you werenât so fucking lost in it. Â
âFuckâ" you gasp, your pout deepening, lips parted in a breathy moan. Â
âSoundinâ like a whole fuckinâ meal,â he taunts, tongue dragging a slow, torturous line up your slitââThis lilâ shit drippinâ all on my mouthâyou hear that? Huh?âÂ
You whimper, nodding frantically, hips rolling up to meet his face. Â
âSâyours, baby," you slur, voice drunk on pleasure, fingers tangling in his cornrows to keep him right where you need him. Â
âThis sobbinâ ass pussy mine?âÂ
Heâs feral between your thighsâa beast unleashed, feasting on you like heâs been starved for centuries. His mouth is everywhere, messy and relentless, tongue plunging deep before swirling in tight, greedy circles that make your pussy weep around him. The sounds are downright nastyâwet, sloppy squelches, the slick drag of his lips against your swollen folds, the obscene pop of his mouth pulling back just to dive in again. Â
Youâre a wreck, hands clutching your own ankles, bubblegum pink curls sticking to your flushed face as you stare down at him with the most pitiful pout. Drunk, dazed, ruinedâyour words come out in weak, slurred whimpers.Â
âSâyour pussy... sââsâyour pussyâŠâÂ
Onyankopon snarls against you, pulling back just enough to glare up at you through hooded eyes, his mouth glossy with your arousal. Â
âKeep sayinâ that shit,â he growls, voice thick with satisfaction, âLook at youâfuckinâ drowninâ me, actinâ all pathetic like you ainât the one who asked for this."Â
Another spasmâyour hips jerk, another rush of slick coating his tongue as you sob, overstimulated but needing more. Your thighs shake under the brutal grip of his hands, still slick from his mouth as he drags himself up your body in one smooth motion. His lips crash against yoursâfilthy, possessiveâand you taste yourself on his tongue, that dark, musky sweetness that makes you whimper before you even feel him. Â
ThenâGodâthe thick, veiny press of his dick slaps against your soaked folds. Itâs monstrous, ridged and heavy, the tip already glistening with your arousal as he rubs it against your clit, teasing, torturing you with the promise of whatâs to come. Onyankopon hooks your legs over his arms, spreading you wider, his voice a rough, arrogant growl against your lipsâ Â
âYou gonâ run from this dick, or you gonâ take it?"Â
Your cheeks flush, heat pooling in your stomach because fuck, you know how hard he is to take. But the liquor in your veins, the ache between your thighsâyou want that edge of pain, that delicious stretch that borders on too much.Â
You shake your head, forehead knocking against his as you pant, âNâNo...wonât run..."Â
He grunts, low and approving, before snarlingââThen watch my shit go in."Â
Your eyes flicker down just in time to see that fat tip pressing against your entrance, stretching you apart with a slow, merciless push. Your mouth falls open in a silent gasp, pout trembling as your walls flutter to accommodate him. Â
âOâOnyâfuckâ" you whimper, surrendering to the burn, the fullness as he sinks deeper, your slick gushing around him so messily it nearly pushes him back out. Then, thereâthe sharp, blissful pinch of him curving against your cervix, forcing a broken cry from your lips. Â
Onyankopon glowers down at you, his breath hot against your mouth as he mutters, âThatâs my spot. My shit. You feel that?"
Your head falls back against the pillows, a breathless gasp tearing from your throat as Onyankopon drops his dick into you with one brutal, claiming thrust. The smack of his hips against the backs of your thighs echoes through the roomâloud, obsceneâas he buries himself to the hilt, your walls fluttering around him in helpless, overstimulated spasms. Â
His mouth crashes against your ear, hot breath spilling filthy promises as he grunt, âKnow you hearinâ me.â
Your pout trembles, lips parted in a silent moan as your eyes roll back, pleasure and pain twisting together in a dizzying spiral. Your fingers drag through the nape of his neck, nails scraping lightly against his skin before tangling in his cornrows, tugging just enough to make him growl. Â
âIâI feel you, Papa.â
Your eyes flicker down to hisâdark, possessive, unrelentingâand your voice cracks into the softest, most pitiful sob. Â
âYouâre so deep.âÂ
You cream on him, your orgasm crashing over you in violent, uncontrollable waves, your pussy clenching around his dick like it never wants to let go. Missionary with Onyankopon is always intimateâalways raw. His large body looms over you, casting you in shadow, his muscles flexing with every merciless thrust. Heâs aggressive in his tenderness, one hand gripping your hip hard while the other wipes away your tears, his thumb brushing your cheekbone even as he ruins you. Â
âMy fuckinâ pussy," he snarls, hips pistoning, driving himself deeper with every snap of his waistââAll fuckinâ mine."Â
The rush of orgasms should have left you spent. But somehow? It only fuels you, turns you into something hungrier, a lust-drunk incubus with a mouth made for sin. Â
Now youâre on your knees, fully naked except for those fuck me heels still strapped to your feetâyour curls cascade around your curvy silhouette as you take him into your mouth with a greedy moan. His dick is thick, heavy on your tongue, the musky scent of him filling your senses as you swirl your tongue around his tip, whimpering around him like the desperate little thing you are. Â
And Onyankopon?Â
Heâs unfazed, lazily rolling a blunt between his fingers as he watches you suck him off with hooded, arrogant eyes. Â
âThatâs all you got?" he taunts, voice rough with amusement, âThought you âwas hungry, mama."Â
You whimper around him, hollowing your cheeks as you try to take him deeper, but God, heâs too muchâyour lips stretch obscenely around his girth, drool spilling down your chin as you struggle to fit even half of him in your mouth. Â
Thenâsmackâhis palm cracks against your cheek, stinging, forcing a gasp from your lips as you pull back, eyes watering. He grips your jaw, forcing your mouth open as he leans down and spits right onto your tongue. Â
âSwallow.â
You doâimmediatelyâbefore jerking him off with both hands, twisting sloppily, kitten-licking at his tip like youâre starved for him. Â
Onyankopon chuckles low, "You cute as hell, girl.âÂ
The flick of his lighter is sinful, the flame catching the blunt between his lips as he takes a slow, deliberate drag. His head tilts back, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke towards the ceiling, the muscles in his neck flexing beneath his tattoosâhe looks good like this, all lazy dominance and effortless control. Â
Then his dark eyes slide back down to you, watching with amused arrogance as your heavy, fat tits press against his thighs, your desperate attempts to titty-fuck him messy and uncoordinated. Your mouth is still locked around his tip, sucking like youâre trying to milk him dry, your lips glossy with spit, your eyes pleading even as you choke around his size. Â
âYou want this shit bad," he taunts.
You whimper around him, your tongue still swirling, all while your hands squeeze your own tits together, tryingâfailingâto take more of him, proving that you do.Â
He watches you struggle for another moment before finally murmuring, "Gonâ back onnaâ bed and put that ass up. Need you bouncinâ on my shit."Â
And just like that? Â
You obey.
This position always breaks youâalways has you tapping out, whimpering, or collapsing into the sheets like a ragdoll. But tonight? Youâre determined to take it. His hands grip your hips, fingers digging into your soft flesh as he slides in fullyâthick, veiny length curving inside you in a way that makes your vision blur.Â
âHands down, mama."Â
You whimper, tucking your palms beneath your body, surrendering to the stretch as he soothes you with a dark, approving murmurââGood lilâ bitch."Â
You arch your back just a little, sinking down onto him further until your pussy ppffts around his dick, the obscene sound making your cheeks burn even as you wiggle yourself down until his abdomen presses against your ass. Â
âOnyoâŠâ
And just like that? His hand clasps against the back of your neckâright where his name is inked into your skinâclaiming you, owning you. Â
Heâs still smoking the blunt, the other hand gripping your throat as he begins stroking up into you, feeding his dick into your tight, dripping pussy with slow, deliberate thrusts. Â
"Sâyoâ birthday, mama,â he murmurs, voice thick with smoke, "Gotta let Papa give you them âgood girl strokes."Â
You arch further, your pussy clenching around him as a high-pitched whimper tears from your throatââOooohhhâ"Â
âYou better open this shit upâionâ wanna hear none of that."Â
But you canât help itâyour body betrays you, your voice cracking into a desperate whine as you gasp out in broken Creole, "Mâpa ka pran liâŠ!â
I canât take it.
The clap of your ass against his abdomen is obscene, each impact forcing another punched out âOooh,â from your lipsââOooh," âOooh,"âyour pussy farting in messy, wet echoes around his dick, the sound humiliating in the best way. Â
âImmaâ keep you on this dick forever if you donât shut that shit up."Â
You bite into the sheets, your whimpers turning into defeated little moans as pleasure fully courses through you, turning your limbs to liquid. Â
But he doesnât let up. Â
Your sounds grow dragged outâ whiney, babbling, your curls spilling around your face as your head goes slackâyour eyes roll back so far youâre seeing stars. Heâs tugging you down harder, forcing you to take every inch, your words slurring into full nonsense as your pussy squirts around himâgushing, your mind fogging over as pleasure obliterates your thoughts.Â
Yeah, youâre gone.
Onyankoponâs pounding into you with precision, bouncing you down onto his dick so hard that he hits that squishy spot deep inside youâyouâre lost, ruined, your voice cracking into a weak, broken mewl as you sayâ Â
âYouâre so fucking mean..."Â
"Yeah?â He murmurs, âIâm mean, huh?âÂ
Your ass claps in a slow, sinful rhythm, your fingers biting into the sheets beneath you as you drag out a weak, tremblingâ"Yeaahhhhhhhh..."âyour body convulsing around him. Â
âYou forgettinâ? That Rolls Royce outside? Allemâ Telfars? Birkins?â he growls, his thrusts becoming deeper, his grip on your hips bruising as he tauntsââYou want them other niggas out there?"Â
The thought alone makes him possessive, strokes turning punishing as he demands your answer. Â
âNo,â youâre sobbingâââWant you forevverrrr..."Â
âThatâs what the fuck I thought."
Then, "Sâ still yoâ dayâcum on the fuckinâ dick like you ainât never did before."Â
And God, you do.Â
The orgasm rips through youâlong, intense and mercilessâyour body convulses as pleasure floods through every nerve. Onyankopon holds you in place, his grip ironclad, keeping you from squirming away as the sensations become too much. You try to fight itâhips jerking weakly, hands scrambling against the sheetsâbut he growls, pressing you down harder as he grunts through his own release. Â
The warmth of him filling you makes you tremble, your pussy fluttering around his dick in helpless, overstimulated pulses. But hell, heâs an animalâstill attempting to stroke into you, his hips rolling lazily even as you tap out, your hand slapping weakly against his thigh in surrender. Â
A shiver wracks your spine as he finally pulls out, his low chuckle vibrating against your skin as he soothes a large palm over your ass, kneading the flesh gently. Â
"Stop, OnyâŠâÂ
Onyankopon chuckles, âRelax, girl. You ainât gonâ let a nigga hold you?â
Your legs shake as you climb onto him, your face burning with embarrassment as you tuck yourself into the crook of his neckâa shy, overwhelmed little thing you are. Â
And he lets youâ his arms wrap around you, lips pressing against the top of your head as he murmurs, "My fuckinâ baby."
His large hand cradles your head, rough fingers pressing gently against your cheeks as he tilts your chin up. The bottom half of your face disappears beneath his palmâall he can see now are your eyesâthose deep, soulful brown pools he fell helplessly in love with.Â
His thumb strokes your cheekbone, his voice softer than youâve ever heard itââYou sleep yet?"Â
You shake your head, lips brushing against his calloused skin as you exhale a quiet no.Â
He hums, satisfied, before murmuringââDid you enjoy yoâ birthday?"Â
A beat.
ââŠIt was more than what I couldâve ever wanted. So much more than I needed.â
âNah, we ainât finnaâ do thatââ he cuts in, voice firm but loving, âYou deserve everything I give you. Ainât nothinâ too much for my fuckinâ woman.â
His gaze burns into yours, âA nigga would buy you the world if I could put that shit in a gift box."Â
You giggle, warmth flooding your chest as you reach up, rubbing at his ear affectionately, your fingers tracing the curve of it like youâre memorizing him. Â
âYou already gave me the world, Ony. You.âÂ
Onyankoponâs jaw ticks. His grip tightens just a fractionâlike heâs fighting the urge to ruin you all over againâ he then grunts, pressing a rough kiss to your forehead. Â
âToo fuckinâ sweet,â he muttersâbut the way he holds you after? Â
It says everything his words canât. You fall asleep together in a chaotic city that couldnât take away the one thing you had for each otherâyour love.Â
16k wrds. fem black reader. angst. fluff. plot with smut. MDNI.
warnings: cursing, use of the n word, alcohol, weed, romantic shit, servicedom!ony, sub!reader, pet names, daddy kink, unprotected sex (BE SAFE), pussydrunk!ony, onyâs a talker, ass eating, praise, toe sucking, foot kissing, overstim, pictures during sex (with permission), filthy just how I like ittt, ony really just dotes on you like a lot, aka sluts you out
moodboard
a/n: little late, but Iâm feelin pretty good about this one đ€ buckle up, sheâs long. enjoy! <3
as of late, onyâs been busy.Â
like, Iâll call you later and not call until well into the night, busy.Â
I have to stay at work late tonight, I need to finish this project, busy.Â
Iâm sorry, baby, can we postpone date night? busy.Â
fidelity isnât something you worry about in such a secure relationship, so thatâs no issue. you know heâs just working hard to further his career.Â
regardless, itâs irritating. you miss your man.
his hands, his voice, his laugh. the two of you are very big on quality time and physical touch, and when he gets like this, itâs always an adjustment. you just want to be up under him, snuggled in bed or on the couch and enjoying the little things. his hands rubbing your ass softly, his kisses on your shoulder and neck, the way it feels to lie on his chest as he laughs at something stupid on the tv.Â
you miss his presence and he knows itâ he knows his lady misses him. it wrenches his heart because he hates disappointing you. he can hear the upset in your voice when he postpones something and it just makes him wish he could keep you in his pocket all day long.Â
he, too, misses your touch. he misses hearing your little satisfied sighs after finally finding a comfortable cuddling position, your sweet face tucked in his neck when youâre feeling particularly clingy, and he especially misses your soothing caresses and kisses.
the feeling of taking care of you, of connecting with you, revitalizes him like no other. going from having that everyday to connecting less and less is haunting his thoughts.
but onyâs very business minded. his work is important to him.Â
heâs not only focused on career advancement and financial security, heâs focused on financial freedom too. heâs always been the type to provide, the type to work hard and play later. meetings, projects, and late nights at the computer are all very familiar to him. heâs working hard for his future, a future he hopes youâll both be enjoying together.Â
because at the end of the day, he wants to come home to you. he wants you to have the ring and wedding of your dreams so you can feel like the princess that you are, the beautiful house that will home so many happy memories, and anything you fucking want. heâs willing to put all this work in for his career and you.
lately, though, ony can tell itâs taking an even heavier toll on you. thatâs the opposite of what he wants. he wants you to feel at ease and free and peaceful. supported, loved, spoiled, and so on. itâs only right his baby feels on top of the world.
not neglected or alone, having to ask your friends to go with you to events because the tickets were already purchased but he had some deadline to meet. not being home alone so much, missing your man and his embrace.
and definitely not touching yourself every night because your man hasnât had the energy and time to indulge in the way you both are used to.
itâs a big thing and he knows that.
his touch is like a balm to you, soothing the inner aches that seem so impossible for others to reach. he knows your body, and mind, and heart, and it shows every time he loves you in that king sized bed.
and the couch.
and the kitchen counter.
and anywhere else.
youâve always had a healthy sex life, especially with the dynamic that you have, but the well is running dry because of the distance. thereâs no connection, no outlet, no bonding. you miss his touch and touching him, and he the same for you. you hate to feel like a star crossed lover, but itâs getting to a point.
you know you have to try to talk to him. and really talk so he canât just brush you off for work again.Â
â§âââ âââ§âââ âââ§
onyâs been doing a lot of research for a really big project. heâs interviewed people, read a thousand articles, made too many charts and graphs to count. itâs maybe the most important task heâs had to work on in a while since working with this company, so heâs using every last drop of energy to make sure everythingâs perfect for the upcoming presentation.
you can see it in the way he barely has the energy to sip at his coffee.Â
âbabyâŠâ you start softly, reaching across the dinner table to hold his hand. itâs one of those nights where heâs attached to his computer, but still near you, wanting to enjoy your presence at the very least.Â
he immediately knows where this is going. he can hear it in the softness of your voice, the careful way you approach. if he could avoid talking about it, avoid seeing the concern in your eyes without feeling like a damn chump, he would.
âI know, babygirl,â he murmurs tiredly. knowingly. he gives your hand a soft squeeze before retracting his touch, his focus still on his laptop. âI know. but my boss needs this asap for the presentation. I canât let her down. you know how important it is I get this promotion.â
you canât help but let out a weary sigh. your hardworking, sweetheart of a man is putting himself through the damn wringer and his boss better appreciate that shit. âitâs important, I know. but everythingâs been important. this project, the one before that, the one before that... when are you gonna take a break?â
âI take breaks,â he mumbles. he doesnât mean to be stubborn. really, he doesnât. heâs just had this goal in mind for so long, and now he feels like itâs finally in reach and⊠he canât give up. he wonât.
âthree minute power naps are not breaks. you know that,â you say sternly. âbaby, this job is draining you. do they not already see how dedicated you are? if you havenât earned that promotion by now, I donât even know if you should work there anymore.â
that catches his attention. if anything, it triggers him, mind worn thin from countless hours of research. âare you kiddinâ?â he asks, gaze snapping up to yours. âainât no way. all this shit Iâm doinâ and you want me to go somewhere else?â
itâd be easy to get frustrated with his tone, but you push through. youâre coming from a place of concern and you want him to know that.
âthatâs the point Iâm trying to make, ony,â you press. âyouâve earned that position. you earned it months ago. hell, they shouldâve given it to you in the first place. do you really wanna work like this for the nextâ however many years? you donât think youâll burn out?â
onyâs eyes close as he lets out a deep breath. knowing he needs to calm down before he releases his tired frustrations out on you, he sits back in his seat and drags his hands down his face. âthis job can set meâ set us up for life, baby. whether I stay with the company or not.â
you go to speak, but he cuts you off.
âIâm sorry, á„«áĄ,â he says. his voice is weary, cracks of vulnerability showing in his exhaustion. âI am. I know you miss me and I miss you too. but I gotta do this. I canât miss this opportunity. Iâm doing what I have to for our family, baby. Iâm doing all of this for us.â
âthatâs the problem right there, ony,â you say, your voice firm but soft. âyou think my concern is based on your presence and our time together when Iâm concerned about your health. youâre withering away in front of me, and you expect me to think about our future? there wonât be a future if you keep at it like this.â
you can see the immediate reaction in his eyes, the concern filling them makes you want to pull him into bed to sleep for weeks.
âbaby, whatâ what you talkinâ bout?â
ârelax, papa,â you murmur, rising from your seat to walk over to his side. you close his laptop and slide into his lap to cradle his face. âI donât mean it like that. weâre locked in forever, you ainât gettinâ rid of me.
âI just need you to realize that nothing is more important than your health. not money, not our future, not any of that shit. I want you happy and healthy more than I want a diamond ring too heavy to wear,â you laugh softly.Â
onyâs eyes shut as he leans into your touch, soothed by your reassurance and concern. he hears you. but the beast that is ambition and anxiety mixed together is too heavy to let go of so easily. heâs so close...
âIâm serious,â you continue tenderly, as if you can read his mind. âthis has to stop, ony. please. lifeâs too short to be neglecting yourself for a future that could change at any moment.â
his chocolate eyes open to meet yours, seeing the full range of your emotions in the pools he loves to get lost in. he wishes he could dive into you, get lost in your healing waters as he just rests. but thoughts of the future come flowing back in, and he canât push them away.
he has to do more. his work has to be enough, he isnât enough.Â
âmaybe after this project, baby. they really need me for this one,â he responds.
of course.
the sigh you let out is weighted. your hands drop from his face before you stand from his lap.
âokay, onyankopon,â you murmur, defeat in your voice. he reaches out to stop you, mouth opening to give some empty reassurance youâve probably already heard, but youâre out of the room before he can say anything.Â
he wants to groan, fuss, chase after you⊠but he only has so much energy left and several more spreadsheets to make and check over. so instead, he sighs the deepest sigh he can muster before opening his laptop again.
â§âââ âââ§âââ âââ§
another day. wednesday.Â
onyâs big presentation is today and heâs been spending all week pacing the house as he runs over the numbers repeatedly. heâs got this. he knows the information like the back of his hand and he knows he can give this presentation with full confidence. heâll prove his value to the company, no doubt about it.Â
tired from staying up, he pours a strong ass cup of coffee before heading to the conference room.
âgood morning, everyone,â he nods to the room. he sees executives and people in the high places heâs trying to reach and he hums lowly to himself as he makes his way to the computer. this is his chance and heâs not going to mess it up.Â
contrary to his previous anxious thoughts, the computer pulls up his presentation with no difficulties. the remote works fine, laser pointer in function, and speaker notes easy to access. he makes small talk with the people in attendance for the last few minutes before the scheduled start time.
his boss enters then, smiling as she greets everyone before taking her usual seat. sheâs the picture of professionalism, and ony can feel the shift in the room as everyone adjusts their posture.
âalright, everyone, lets get started. onyankoponâs one of my best researchers, and I know weâre all excited about this project. heâs been doing amazing work, as always. the floorâs yours,â she says with a wave of her hand. the recognition is encouraging and he gives a small smile and nod.Â
âthank you, mrs. green. and thanks to everyone for your attention,â he starts. âIâve prepared an in depth outline for our plan moving forward. please hold questions until the end, your concerns will more than likely be addressed in the following slide.â
he goes on to start the presentation, feeling more than confident. also tired as hell, but you wouldnât guess it from the outside looking in. itâs engaging and he takes mental note of how focused everyone is. impressed glances, nods of rapt attention, amused smiles at onyâs creative thinking.
everything is going perfectly until the executive assistant enters in a rush.
ony pauses immediately, losing his flow. he canât help but question the interruption. he takes notice of how the man scrambles over to his boss and talks quietly in her ear. the womanâs face drops in concern, her eyebrows furrowing as she nods along. the bumbling assistant quickly makes his exit.
mrs. green stands with a sigh and straightens her blazer. âIâm so sorry to do this. I know youâve put in a lot of work, but I have to leave for the day. my child is severely sick and I need to get to them. weâll reschedule this presentation for a later date, but really amazing work, onyankopon.â
onyâs stomach drops.Â
did he just hear that correctly? he feels like he has whiplash.Â
thereâs no way he just did all of that preparing for her to just cancel when heâs almost halfway through. heâs having so many thoughts that he canât even keep up with his own mind.Â
âumâ yeah, of course,â ony nods stiffly. he figures thereâs nothing he can do. âsometime this week?â
the woman shakes her head as she grabs her belongings. âmy scheduleâs too tight. Iâll ask my assistant when works best. again, Iâm sorry, but you understand. familyâs too important.â
with that, she leaves.Â
and onyâs stumped.
with his assumptions about the work culture of the company, he fully expected her to ask for a nanny, a babysitter, a someone to help.
but no.Â
no hesitations, no questions. ony canât even blame her, but this is a jarring surprise. heâd expected pause or some consideration, but she moved on instinct. and no oneâs even reacting, itâs like business as usual. granted, sheâs the big boss, butâŠÂ
onyâs still standing by the presentation screen.
he watches as everyone packs up their stuff and chats casually, speaking of well wishes to their boss as they make their way back to their respective offices. itâs all so relaxed. like ony hasnât been preparing all week for that damn presentation.
itâs making him reevaluate everything.
after the meeting, he spends the rest of his day asking how his coworkers feel about it. he asks if people ever called out last minute or took extra time off, what the response was, the treatment after, how it affected their job⊠and heâs surprised that his perspective of his job was so wrong.
work-life balance is encouraged. itâs seen as a right. people have had the freedom to handle family emergencies and such with no affect to their job or how theyâre viewed. people have taken mental health days with no problems. theyâve still raised in the ranks, been seen as star employees, gotten raisesâŠ
ony had never even considered leaving the office on time, let alone leaving in the middle of the day. he thought he had to hustle, to fight for recognition like most do with other companies. he feels stupid after everything heâs put himself and you through.Â
fuck. ony can feel his shoulders getting heavier with every realization.
you.
his babygirl, his love, his heartâŠ
heâs driven himself crazy, trying to do everything in his power for the future he hopes to share with you. late nights, early mornings, working weekends⊠youâve tried to ground him time after time, tried to get him to rest and relax and focus on the present, but he didnât listen. he just kept pushing himself, trying to reach a goal that was of his own mental making.
just how much has he missed out on due to his own misunderstandings?
á„«áĄ
that night, ony comes home only an hour after his scheduled time. he usually stays a few hours past, but he comes home, showers, and crashes right in the bed. you think heâs just exhausted or drained, actually catching up on rest before getting back to the grind, so you say nothing. you caress his back as you fall asleep next to him.Â
the days after are the same, though.Â
and the following saturday is a shock.
heâd unsurprisingly been working on the weekends too, sometimes going into the office and others working from home. you expect to hear his alarm ring bright and early, but it never does. he stays right beside you, arms holding you tight.
when you wake up, you think youâre dreaming.
âony?â you ask groggily as you rub the sleep from your eyes. youâre resting on his chest, his arms securely wrapped around your waist. he only grumbles incoherently in response and turns his head.
ânigga, I know you hear me,â you huff. âdid you turn off your alarm? itâs almost twelve, we overslept. you overslept.â
âainât my name and ion care. câmere and stop allat movinâ,â he grumbles as his hand slides just below your butt, pulling you closer. he doesnât even open his eyes, which shocks the hell out of you. you thought heâd give a bigger reaction.
âhello? did you hear me? youâre late, pa,â you try again, reaching to lightly tug his eyelid up with your finger. his pupil lazily shifts to look at you, an almost disturbing sight, before he reaches up to pull your hand away.Â
âheard you. Iâm stayinâ in today.â
you blink. then you blink again. he just presses a soft kiss to your hand before he closes his eyes again.
âare you sick?â you ask, dumbfounded.
âno,â he grumbles. âbaby, go back to sleep.â
âoh my God, youâre sick, arenât you?â you question as you sit up in bed. âI need to check your temperature. itâs summer, but I can make you some soup. maybe I can make it cold? there are cold soups arenât theââ
âá„«áĄ,â he stops you, hand lazily sliding to your back. âIâm not sick, I promise. this project been stressful and Iâm exhausted, so can we please go back to sleep?â
you stare at him for a moment, his slightly irritated expression almost making you want to say something slick. your shock should be understandable with the stark difference in his behavior.
but you can see the how weathered he looks. he really is drained and he can probably use all the sleep he can get. youâll spare him. plus, if you can crawl back up into his side and cuddle the day away after such a long time of being distanced, youâll jump at the chance.
ââŠokay. let me go use the bathroom first.â
you almost thought it would be a joke of some kind, but ony stays in bed all day. he goes in and out of sleep, clinging to you and grumbling if either of you have to move for any reason. itâs refreshing. extremely so.
you canât even find it in you to complain for fear heâll up and get on the clock again. the two of you just hold each other, basking in the embrace of your lover and soaking up the much needed affection. kisses, caresses, whispers of âI been missinâ you.â itâs like a dam broke and youâre getting bathed in love and attention.Â
heâs still so quiet though. you can tell heâs thinking about something by the way he stares off into the distance. the way his brows pull together slightly, the ghost of a frown on his lips... you want to ask about it but donât want to push. you just fall asleep in his arms again.
sunday comes and itâs the same.
ony stays in bed, going so far as to bring his rolling tray in from the living room to roll a blunt in bed.
when you return from the kitchen with your snack and see what heâs doing, you pause and purse your lips. âokay, whatâs up with you? staying in two days in a row? rollinâ in the bedroom? what happened to âno smoking in the roomâ?â
he doesnât really react. his gaze meets yours as he seals the blunt with a lick, expertly pearling it. the sight alone makes you want to jump his bones, but youâre too focused on figuring out whatâs going on.
âcome âere, baby,â he mumbles quietly.
your eyebrows furrow, but you walk over to settle at his side. you wipe some lint from his face and caress his cheek, giving him your full attention. âwhatâs been on your mind, ony? was the presentation okay? youâve been acting different.â
ony sighs as he lets himself relax at your touch. youâre just so⊠everything. youâre everything to him and he feels like heâs failed you.Â
âIâm sorry,â he says quietly. his voice is full of remorse as he looks down to the blunt in his hands, fiddling. he looks truly sad. the normal confidence and sureness in himself gone. you notice it in the way he wonât even meet your gaze. itâs unlike him.
âpaâŠâ you start tenderly, hand still softly caressing his cheek. âwhatâs going on?â
his eyes meet yours then, emotions and turmoil apparent in the dark brown irises. âyou deserve so much more than what Iâve been giving you the past few months. I havenât been there for my baby like I promised I would.â
youâre shaking your head before he even finishes his sentence. âno, ony, donât do that.â
âlet me finish, princess. I need to say this. please?â he asks, signaling to you the severity of his feelings. âthis ainât a pity party. itâs a man admitting he fucked up.â
you donât really have a choice when he uses that tone. you nod silently, choosing instead to rub his knee as a quiet show of support.
âI didnât get to give my full presentation,â he mumbles with a lazy shrug. âthe executive left for a family emergency; didnât even think about it. she just left. all that work, all that draining myself, just to realize everyone around me donât even make the same sacrifices. they ainât got to. they all have balance and are thriving at home and at work. you know I hate comparinâ myself, but damn. knowinâ Iâve been doinâ all this shit, neglectinâ my home life and my love, my heart... it hurt and I needed time to process that.â
your eyebrows raise as you take in the information. you knew something had happened. the sound of regret in his voice, the way you can tell the guilt is weighing him down⊠it hurts to hear.
âI promised Iâd take care of you, and you know I donât take that lightly. but Iâve been⊠closed-minded. tunnelvisioned. you were right, baby,â he continues. his hand is now reverently rubbing your thigh, gripping it from time to time to help ground himself. âyou tried to get me out of it, and Iâm ashamed it had to come to that for me to really open my eyes.
âI let my thoughts of the future fuck with how I meet you now, and Iâm ashamed of that. I hid my fear of not being enough, not providing enough, behind my ambition,â he shakes his head remorsefully. âI wanna be a good man for you, baby. the best man. and sometimes the pressure of that gets to me, no matter how strong I am.
âso I mean it when I say Iâm sorry. and thank you for being here, always. I donât take that shit for granted, á„«áĄ,â he presses, eyes locked on yours. itâs raw and honest and itâs easy to see he really needed to get it all off of his chest.
before you can even think to say anything, your arms are pulling him close. you feel him return the embrace tight, like he found something heâd lost. âoh, baby,â you murmur.
âyouâre always tryinâ to carry the world by yourself, papa. you donât have to do that. weâre partners,â you reassure him. âI see you, ony. I know youâre working hard for us. but Iâm not just dead weight, you know? I ainât just here to look pretty.â
âbut youâre mine,â he murmurs, pulling back to look at you. thereâs that stubborn frown again. you just want to massage it away. âI take care of whatâs mine. you know that. Iâm doing everything I do for usââ
âand youâre mine. or did you forget that part?â you tilt your head. âI say the things I say to you for you, which is ultimately for us. just because youâre my man doesnât mean youâre running this show alone. Iâm honestly starting to feel a bit insulted.â
ââŠinsulted?â
âyes, insulted,â you state. âthe fact that you think Iâd let the love of my life carry all of our problems and run himself dry is crazy to me. I ainât goinâ for it anymore. we are a team and Iâm always gonna call you on your shit. thatâs not just when youâre âwrongâ but itâs when youâre not takinâ care of yourself either.
âyou said youâre ashamed that it came this far, well, so am I. I shouldâve flicked you upside your big ass head when I first saw you headed in this direction. it was hard on all fronts, but the worst was watching you fight by yourself.â
you grab his face with your hands, gently but firm enough to slightly squish his cheeks. âI love you. we are a team. stop being so damn stubborn. shit,â you huff.
he blinks at you, lips puckered with the way youâre holding him. he swears in that moment heâs never wanted to marry you more. youâre a dream but also a beautiful reality, a merging of so much love and perfection that ony still canât believe youâre his.
âyouâre a man, I get it. you want to be this picture perfect image of a man that does all the hard stuff, does everything with no help. but this ainât that,â you shake your head. âyouâre human, papa. youâre not a superhero. you will burn out if you keep holding onto the thought that youâre pullinâ the wagon on your own.
âitâs me and you. this is what I expect from you. partnership. I might be your babygirl, and you might take the lead, but Iâm not a trophy wife. I have my own job that I love, and I adore taking care of you just as much as you do me. I need you to understand that, onyankopon.â
ony could cry. heâs starting to see it now.
somewhere along the way, he took up the mantle of being everything. not because you asked him to, not even because he wanted to.Â
heâs afraid.
heâs afraid of losing you, of not being enough. he began to equate your love for him with how much he can provide. he began to equate his worth with how much he can be of service to others. he never thought that would be his driving force, but he sees now that anxiety can penetrate even the most fortified minds.
but you⊠youâre his fresh air. youâre as strong as you are beautiful. just because you let him lead, doesnât mean youâre some damsel waiting in a tower. he always knew that, but itâs a jarring reality when your headâs been stuck up your own ass for several months.
ânow. youâre gonna smoke that whole damn blunt by yourself. Iâm gonna go cook a shit ton of food and you better eat till you physically canât anymore. Iâm taking care of you now. if you leave this bed, youâll be fightinâ me. heard me?â you question.
he blinks again. and then nods.
âgood. what do you want for dinner?â
â§âââ âââ§âââ âââ§
things have been slowly moving in the right direction since that conversation.Â
onyâs been coming home at normal times, catching up on rest during the weekends, and making sure he shows love to you every chance he gets. heâs starting to look like himself again, energy levels raising more and more.
youâve helped him tremendously. cooking his favorite filling meals, uplifting him when he gets those prickly thoughts of not doing enough, reminding him that youâll always be there. he feels⊠doted on. itâs different from the usual dynamic between the two of you, but heâd be lying if he said he didnât adore it.Â
heâs used to being the attentive one. the one that carries the load, the man. but this whole situation has reminded him how intentional you are as a partner. itâs shown him that he can let go and not be perfect, that youâll have his back when he canât give the 110% heâs used to. he can depend on you the same way you can with him.
partnership.
that word has been ringing in his head ever since you said it. it fills him with a sense of belonging. relief. happiness. it makes him feel seen. home feels like home again. life isnât so heavy.
and it looks good on you. youâre happy and looking at him with so much affection that he fights the urge to scoop you into his arms by the hour. youâve been balanced and steadfast with your support, carrying the extra weight like itâs nothing. you pour from your heart, not from a place of expectation.
he should be recovering from his burn out, focusing on balance and new habits. and he is. but heâs constantly thinking about how much he loves you. how much he appreciates you. how much of an idiot he was to forget who you are.
he thinks about how heâs been through the wringer the past few months, and then smacked with realization after realization. youâve been there through it all, since day one. heâs always focused on being the best man he can be, and heâs realized that he can only be his best with you. youâve been there in his corner in ways he canât let go of.Â
ever.
though to you, heâs still acting different than what youâre used to. you can tell heâs still in his head. you wonder if itâs because heâs still shaking the last traces of anxiety or if thereâs something else on his mind. itâs a reflective state, so youâre giving him a chance to work it out himself before you drag him by his ear back to bed to chill the fuck out.
so when he brings up the idea of a lil weekend trip, just a chance for the both of you to get away after everything thatâs happened and spend some quality time together, you jump at the opportunity. he needs it, you need it, everybody needs it. itâll be a great opportunity to help him fully relax, and maybe you can figure out whatâs got him in his head.
he chooses the airbnb and plans the trip, once again not letting you do a single thing. he doesnât even let you pack. you go to chastise him for it, but he uses the excuse that heâs treating you for the past few weeks youâve supported him a little extra.
á„«áĄ
you immediately stretch when you exit the car, limbs reaching for the sky as a small squeak escapes your lips. âugh, my ass hurts. did you really have to choose one so far away?â you ask brattily.
ony just hands you your purse with a small chuckle, not even mentioning the fact that you were either asleep or just no help the entire ride while he drove. âyeah, baby. I wanted to find a cabin for us. I think youâll really like it,â he says warmly.
he knows you best, so you trust that this will be a great fucking trip. the smirk that crawls onto your face spells nothing but inappropriate intentions. âyeah? let me go check this shit out. see everything before the damage weâre about to do,â you smirk, making him laugh.
before you can turn to head towards the door, he stops you, voice calling out firmly. ânuh uh, bring that ass back. you know I gotta do my walk through. lemme get these bags first.â
you try not to rush him; he did just drive all the way and heâs being such a gentleman. itâs just hard when you know your vacationâs just on the other side of the door. you look around, already liking the looks of the location he chose. you ask about a cabin trip every time itâs time for a trip, and he chose a nice one.
âgrab this for me, love,â he murmurs softly, handing you one of the lighter bags. you take it from his hand and he smiles at you before grabbing your shared suitcase and extra bags. âready to go see the inside?â
âhell yeah,â you grin. you follow him, eyes scanning the front room as he sets the bags down. he begins his walkthrough, diligently checking every corner and room for a possible person or hidden camera. you follow behind him as he takes his time, admiring how focused he is and the cozy feel of the cabin. âthis is perfect, pa. itâs so cozy and cute. hope we donât get murdered or anything.â
ony lets out a loud laugh at that, always amused by you. âitâs safe here, baby, I promise. you know I brought my gun anyway,â he reassures with a smile. âeverythingâs good, we can get settled. wanna hear the plan?â
âthereâs a plan?â you ask as you flop onto the bed. itâs so cozy, the blankets feather soft. you feel small in the king sized bed and youâre already thinking of the debauchery thatâll happen on it soon. maybe even in the next few minutes. âyouâre always planninâ shit. I thought we came here to relax. especially you.â
ony snorts as he sits next to you, easily tugging your form into his lap. youâre now sitting perpendicular to him, your legs resting over his thick thighs. he murmurs, âI plan so my girl ainât gotta worry,â before he presses soft kisses to your cheek. you shiver at the tickle of his beard and turn your head so his lips meet yours.
âmy man. always going above and beyond.â your voice is tender, your hand raising to softly tug at the hair on his chin. he just looks so good, so tempting. you can feel his hand start to trail up and down your thigh as he chuckles lowly.
his kisses follow the line of your neck until he gently pulls your earlobe between his teeth. you tilt your head with a sigh as he mumbles, âmhm, always for you. wanted to treat you. show my appreciation.
âI was gonna take you shoppinâ, but not if you keep beinâ so damn touchable. Iâll put you through this mattress before we can fuckinâ unpack.â
his touch tingles in all the right ways, reminding you of how much you missed the depth of intimacy that used to be a usual routine. his words cause I jump in your gut. before you can fully melt at his touch, youâre quickly distracted. âshopping?â you perk up. âshopping where?â
âmmm, interested in the plan now, huh?â he teases, playfully nipping at your cheek. you lightly shove his face away as you laugh, feeling his arms wrap snugly around your waist. âweâre not far from the strip. figured we can grab somethinâ to eat, check out a couple shops⊠stretch our legs after that ride.â
âthat sounds perfect. damn, youâre always on it, huh?â you smile. arms wrapping around his shoulders, you pull him close, enjoying the relaxing feel. âIâm definitely feeling stir crazy after all of that. let me shower and change and Iâm all yours.â
he chuckles before giving you the gentle reminder, âyouâre all mine anyway.â
â§âââ âââ§âââ âââ§
it isnât long before youâre fresh and clean, dressed in one of the pretty numbers that ony packed for you. heâs donned a coordinating outfit, always wanting to leave no room for doubt about who he belongs to. the two of you stroll hand in hand down the street, feeling rejuvenated already.
the weather is beautiful and warm and the sun is shining brightly. the shopping strip is alive with tourists and music and more shops than you would've guessed. homemade candles that fill the room with beautiful aromas, intricately carved crystals and handmade jewelry, a wide variety of restaurants to choose from⊠and you stick to your manâs side the whole time.
onyâs hand fimly grasps yours as he makes sure you stay on the inside of the sidewalk, away from the street. you both dance as you walk past bands playing live, your man making sure to twirl you around like the princess you are. you try so many different types of food, feeding each other and giggling goofily when the other makes a scrunched face of displeasure.
art galleries, antique shops, clothing stores. you put on fashion shows to show off the clothes for his input, and he the same for you. you both take probably a thousand pictures of everything that catches your eye. itâs everything the two of you need and a great first day of the trip. it feels more than amazing to spend this quality time together.
you feel like the battery for your relationship is charging, and it feels good.
by the time you get to the wine bar, your last stop for the day, onyâs arms are full of shopping bags. you feel bad but the sight of his veins and muscles from the slight strain make your mouth water.
âmaybe we should just head back, pa,â you say softly. you rub his back as you gaze up at him, eyes warm but tired. âthatâs too much to try to carry around, and Iâm getting pretty tired too.â
he hums and bends to press his lips to your cheek. he can tell by your tone that youâre going to sleep good as hell tonight. âokay, pretty, we can come back tomorrow. itâs a bit of a walk back to the car, can you make it?â
âmhm,â you nod as he continues to kiss on you. the intimacy between you two is back on one hundred, and words canât explain how good it feels. âwhich way is it?â
âthis way,â he murmurs, jutting his head to the right. he guides you in whatever direction, your arm wrapping around his bicep. something catches your attention when you walk past the wine bar.
âis that a spa? shit, Iâd love to go there,â you murmur, craning your neck to look inside as you both continue to walk. âlookâ they have natural springs!â
ony chuckles quietly to himself. hm. âitâs hot springs, baby, thatâs kind of their thing. and we already have an appointment for tomorrow.â
âwe do?â you beam, turning to look at him. he just knows you so well, itâs almost scary sometimes, but always incredibly endearing. heâs a good man and your manâ simple as that.
he once again guides you to his side, away from the street. you grab a couple of the bags on his arms despite his quiet protest. âmhm, itâs set for tomorrow night. imma get your nails done and everything. full treatment for my princess.â
âoh, you must want the freakiest freak outta me that you can get. you really did your big one with this trip, huh? maybe you really did get your shit together.â you tease, lightly bumping his hip with yours. well, best you can with the height difference.
âoh, I want more than a freak, baby,â smirks softly. âbut knowing you and everything we did today, youâll be too tired. donât even get my hopes up.â
you gasp at that and look at him with your jaw dropped. âdonât do me like that! I take care of you and that big ass dââ
âhusshhh, girl,â he laughs, his voice cutting yours short. âwe in public, chill. you right, you take care of me.â
you snicker at that. âdamn right. donât play with me like I ainât got that.â
âoh, I know you got that. but donât play like I ainât got it either,â he smirks, raising his eyebrow. âor do you need a reminder real quick? wonât be able to walk tomorrow, though.â
you kiss your teeth and jokingly roll your eyes. âwhatever, ony. always gotta make shit about you.â the laugh he lets out is diabolical.
the two of you continue to walk, the only sounds being your steps and the occasional swish or crumple of one of the bags. the sunâs setting in the distance and itâs a beautiful sight, pinks and purples painting the sky.
âI really appreciate all of this, baby,â you speak gently. âIâm glad we can have this time together. everythingâs been amazing, but all I really need is you, you know? I missed you even though you were right there.â
his heart clutches in his chest. even as he consistently shows that heâs dedicated to being better with his changed actions, looking back on that time is still a sore spot. he was so misguided. but both the situation and you showed him what he really needed to see.
âI know, sweetheart. I hope you know how important that is to me too,â he expresses. âitâs everything. I didnât show it in the way I shouldâve and I let my fear get to me. but this⊠this right here is my world.â
him and his words, tugging at your heartstrings and shit. you squeeze his arm tighter and sigh, positively overwhelmed with the day. it feels like a dream. âI love you,â you murmur softly.
âI love you. and I mean that with everything.â
á„«áĄ
soft silk. skin on skin. gentle, whispered words.
itâs a bubble. a safe haven of warmth and security. ease and peace. it surrounds you in all the best ways, consumes you but doesnât inspire fear.
itâs just so warm.
and soft.
and itâŠ
smells like bacon?
âwakey, wakey, baby,â ony murmurs, his touch following shortly. with a gentle caress of your cheek, he rouses you from your rest. you groan softly as your eyes flutter open. youâre met with onyâs warm gaze, the man still clad in your matching pajamas from the night before.
ânoooo, weâre on vacation, weâre supposed to sleep in,â you mumble before nuzzling your face into your pillow. itâs just so soft you could sink into it, you wonder if the host will tell you what kind they are.
ony lets out an amused snort and turns to the side table. demanding thing you are. âitâs past twelve, baby. I ordered brunch,â he murmurs simply. he lifts a platter and carries it to the bed, placing it on your lap, and your mouth waters at the sight of the food.
âoh,â you murmur, not realizing the time. you guess you had to get up eventually, but you were having a good ass dream. you look at all the food then, taking in the several options before you. âyou got me all this? I know I like being spoiled and all butâŠâ
âitâs for both of us, donât piss me off,â he pinches your cheek. âwe did too much fuckinâ walkinâ yesterday. when I get in this bed, Iâm stayinâ.â you laugh at his words as he slides back into the spot next to you, careful not to jostle the bed too much.
âyeah, whatever. as long as I get to try some of everything,â you say back, bumping your shoulder with his. he bumps you back, but youâre more focused on picking your fork up to try a bite or seven.
just as expected, the food is amazing. you both immediately hum at the taste, nodding in approval. the next few moments are quiet as you both stuff your faces, chewing and crunching in tandem.
âdamnâŠâ ony pipes up, a smirk on his slightly greasy face. âknow shit good when it get quiet.â
âdonât make me choke on my food,â you laugh as you cover your mouth. heâs right though. the people that live in this town are lucky that they get to eat at whatever restaurant the damn feast is from.
your man chuckles warmly as you reach to wipe his face, turning to ask you, âwe got a few hours before we need to head to the spa, and we can go to that wine bar right after. weâll pack some clothes to change into. anything you wanna do before then or you just wanna chill?â
âhm,â you hum in thought. honestly, youâre still beat from the day before. so many stores, so much walking that your feet are still sore. a spa trip is all thatâs on your mind. ânah. do you wanna do anything? I feel like itâs been more about me since we got here.â
ony pauses at that, looking straight at you. youâre serious?
âwell, yeah,â he deadpans. itâs almost like thatâs the whole point. he canât help but tease you a bit for what he considers to be a silly thought. âI brought you here to spoil the fuck outta you. issue?â
âokay, donât get smart. here I am tryna be considerate and shit. I take it back.â
âthat ainât really somethinâ you can take backâŠâ
âwell, Iâm takinâ it back.â
âno refunds, lady.â
âony!â you laugh, lightly smacking his arm. âIâm serious! this is about us. quality time and all that. this trip isnât just for me, itâs for you too. now, speak up. I know thereâs somethinâ you wanna do.â
ony laughs, amused by your stubbornness. itâs one of the reasons he loves you so. âokay, okay. uhhh. Iâm still tired, to be honest. I just wanna chill with my girl.â
you respond with a satisfied humph and a nod of your head. âthen thatâs what weâll do. get cozy, or else.â
â§âââ âââ§âââ âââ§
the next several hours are spent in bed, cuddling in each others arms. itâs a wonderful feeling just to be wrapped up in him, and you canât help but sit in appreciation for everything. he really planned the trip so perfectly, you have only praises.
ony puts some random show on that captures you both, but only for a while. soon the sound of your voices covers the low volume of the tv as conversation blooms.
you talk about any and everything. from the day you first met, to your favorite childhood memories, to updates in the friend group that you hadnât talked about in depth yet. you remain wrapped up in each other, touches soft and reverent, as you just enjoy the calming presence of one another.
eventually, you migrate from the bed to the living room, having a quick lunch before getting ready for your joint spa appointment. the thought of a soothing massage, a fresh nail set, and a trip to the wine bar has you damn near bouncing off the walls. your excitement is more than obvious, and ony has to hold back a laugh several times as he packs a bag with fancy clothes for the wine tour.
when you arrive at the spa, itâs much fancier than it seemed from the outside, which is saying a lot. the two of you are immediately and pleasantly greeted and guided to a luxurious room in the back to prepare.
soft robes, slippers, and refreshing water secured, you both meet eyes and playfully grin. itâs not your first coupleâs massage, but itâs been a while, so youâre both excited as hell.
everythingâs going so smoothlyâŠ
until onyâs damn phone rings.
you squint, watching him turn to go back to his locker. you stand in the doorway while he digs in his bag, and notice a nervous change in his face when he sees the screen.
âshit. Iâm sorry, baby, I gotta take this. itâs the office,â he murmurs, eyebrows pulling together.
itâs a trigger, almost. not to such an extreme, but you feel a familiar disappointment starting to tug at you. âony, are you serious? weâre just about to get started,â you frown.
âI know, I know, but itâs urgent,â he presses. âthey wouldnât call if it wasnât. not after I've made my boundaries clear.â
âony. you are not leaving to go take a work call,â you fuss, trying to keep your voice down. you watch as he gives a sad frown, almost like heâs holding back. but then his phone rings again and he holds up a finger, walking into the hallway.
âony. onyankopon,â you whisper yell after him. when the door closes, leaving you alone, you huff a sigh and sit.
this is absolutely ridiculous. everything was literally going so damn perfectly, but here he goes on bullshit again. and only minutes before your spa appointment!
when the door opens and ony slides back into the room, the look you give him is lethal. he can only let out a deep sigh. âI need to go back the the cabin,â he says quietly.
âoh. oh, wow,â you scoff, crossing your arms. âyouâre on vacation, ony. what the fuck happened to work/life balance? after everything? Iâm not doing this shit with you againââ
âhey, hey,â he says softly, walking over to you. he reaches to cup your cheek with one hand and wraps his other arm around your waist. âIâm not going back to where I was, okay? this is temporary.â
he looks like he wants to say more, but stops himself short. âyouâll see. havenât I been showing you that Iâm dedicated to doing better? than you can trust me to be mindful?â
heâs met with a frown and the crossing of your arms.
ârelax, baby, I swear this is it for the whole trip. I donât use that word lightly. you know that,â he reassures, caressing your cheek soothingly. âI really am sorry, love. Iâll be as quick as I can. how about you stay here, yeah? Iâll get you when I finish up.â
he sees the frustration in your eyes, and he leans to press his lips against your forehead. he feels awful for making you feel this way, regardless of the situation. but itâs necessary. âtrust me. I promise youâll have all of me after this, okay? all of my attention, all of my love, all of my time. I swear.â
you sigh and look to the side, fighting the frustration you feel. you take a moment to mentally acknowledge and appreciate the fact that he really has been stepping back from work like he promised. not staying late, no work on the weekends, taking proper care to do better than the past.
he means what he says, you know that. his actions prove his intentions, thatâs just the type of man he is. he just needs to finish something up, and then the vacation can resume like planned. itâs annoying as absolute fuck, and upsetting no matter how mature you try to be, but the main thing is that itâs temporary.
âfine,â you mumble. your gaze turns to meet his, firm and steady. âbut youâre making this up to me as soon as we get back to the spot. I mean it.â
he smiles in a way thatâs so sure. âI was already planning to. donât let me stress you out. these cucumber slices cost too damn much for you to be worried about me.â the small smile he gets in return smooths over any anxiety of you being upset, despite the fact that you try to hide it.
âtake this time for you, okay? just have some time to yourself. rest, recharge, all that without me breathinâ down your neck. you deserve it.â he presses his lips against yours in a loving kiss. âI love you,â he murmurs warmly. âand I appreciate your understanding. I wonât take it for granted.â
âyeah, yeah, whatever,â you mumble before you pull him into another brief kiss. âgo handle business. then you can handle me.â
he laughs at that, the sound a deep reverberance from his chest. âand I will. believe that. text me when you finish up, and donât forget to get all dolled up for me so we can go to the wine bar. call me if you need me, okay?â
á„«áĄ
the spa appointment was definitely what you needed. your muscles feel loose and relaxed, your skin extra smooth and moisturized from head to toe, and your nails look a bit too good for a nail tech youâll probably never see again.
itâs hard not to be a bit bitter, just wanting your man by your side. this was supposed to be for you both. but honestly, you have spent a lot of time right up under each other the past couple of days. and thereâs always the hot tub back at the cabin.
and even though he left and couldnât do the spa treatment, youâre still looking forward to this wine bar. you get dressed in yet another pick by ony, and no surprise, itâs gorgeous. the look paired with the way you feel after some quality self care is almost unbeatable.
as you exit the backrooms and pull your phone out to call ony, a voice calls after you, slightly rushed. youâd packed your stuff up so fast, ready to go, and sheâd been trying to catch you. âmaâam? maâam, just a second, please.â
you turn at the sound of her voice and give her your attention. âyeah? did I leave something?â you ask politely.
âno maâam, Iâ um, I forgot to offer you some complimentary champagne for your visit. would you like me to pour you a glass?â
your eyebrow raises at that. normally you wouldnât say no to some bubbly, but the thought of the wine bar is pressing. a fancy space, some time with your man, and some highly rated food and drinks? youâll pass. âum, I wasnât aware that was a thing. I think Iâll pass, thank you.â
âare you sure?â she presses. âitâs extremely quality, and you can sit and enjoy it in our lounge. why donât you come take a look?â
hm. pushy lady. she must get paid well.
âyeah, no thank you,â you repeat. âI appreciate it, I just have plans. thank you for your hospitality, though.â
she falters at your reply, looking as though she wants to say something else. your attention is redirected to your phone as you press onyâs contact.
âpa, Iâm done at the spa,â you say when he answers. âcome get meee. I wanna go to the wine bar.â
ony almost crashes out, but he keeps himself in line. âshit, already? I didnât think youâd be done for another half hour. I canât come get you, baby.â heâs already flinching at just the thought of your response.
the face you make would be funny if the situation wasnât what it is. âthe fuck you can. whatâs so damn important that you canât pause to come get me?â you frown, dropping your bag on one of the lobby seats. you can excuse earlier, but this is too much. he just reassured you that his priorities are in order.
âjustâ Iâm sending a lyft for you, okay? I have to wrap something up.â
âonyââ
âtrust me, baby. just let me call a car for you.â
you scoff. itâs actually getting to be a bit much, especially since you just spent all of that time relaxing and letting go. âthis is fuckinâ ridiculous. we didnât come all this way for your attention to still be on work.â
âbabyââ
âjust send the damn car, ony. and you better keep an eye on my location,â you huff before hanging up. you turn to the speak to the masseuse, who quickly looks away as she pretends to not be listening. âactually, I would like a glass of champagne, thank you. a bottle if you can spare it.â
you definitely plan to be a brat in the lounge until you see just how nice it is. calming music, a beautiful fountain, a bottle of champagne waiting for you⊠itâs really hard to be mad when youâre sipping on expensive drinks after your man paid for every single thing, including your dress and nails and hair. you want to pout. if only here were here.
itâs not long before youâre in the uber back to the cabin. you use the ride time to properly gather your words so you can explain to your man everything he did to piss you off in such a short amount of time. this was supposed to be a trip for both of you to relax, and heâs once again letting work get the better of him.
á„«áĄ
arriving at the cabin, you take a breath. clear communication is the goal. you donât want to make him feel bad, but you need to express yourself after what just happened. you walk to the front door with a little extra speed in your steps, mumbling under your breath. ânigga better be ready to hear this mouth. done left me at the place by my damn self. on vacation. after everything. damn shame.â
you open the door, fully prepared to call out to him so you can fuss, but stop short when you see a trail of rose petals starting at the doorway. itâs like your brain empties all coherent thoughts. you just freeze in place, looking down at how the petals smush under your feet.
thereâs music playing, you notice in your frozen state. itâs you and onyâs song, alex isleyâs âlove again.â you can hear quiet snaps here and there, and you look up to see a smiling photographer taking picture after picture.
your heart is racing and your brainâs still not working.
âá„«áĄ,â you hear a voice call from the other side of the room. your gaze slowly follows the flowers below you until they meet onyâs shoes. you look up and up and up and⊠there he is. standing in the living room, furniture cleared with a pool of rose petals scattered everywhere.
heâs dressed up, looking mouth watering-ly handsome as he holds a big bouquet of red and pink flowers. heâs watching you with eyes filled with a love you can feel from way too many feet away.
love⊠and nervousness.
what the fuck.
no, what in the actual hell.
âclose the door, pretty,â he says warmly, his voice tender and so damn soft. you follow his instruction mindlessly, the cabin door closing behind you. you continue to stare at him with wide eyes, swallowing as realization starts to dawn on you.
your voice is thick with emotion when you speak. âonyâŠâ
he just smiles warmly as he adjusts the flowers in his hand. with all this planning, he tried to keep everything as inconspicuous as he could. redirecting your thoughts of what the trip was really about, pretending to book a couples spa when it was really just for you, roping the spa workers into his planâŠ
it all worked. he hated lying, it actually made his chest hurt to see the disappointment on your face and hear the frustration in your voice when he âbailedâ on you for work, but it worked.
he got you.
âcome here,â he says softly, holding a hand out to you.
your heart is still beating, beating, beating in your chest, and you have to force yourself to take a deep breath. âonyâŠâ you repeat, your voice shaky. youâre still frozen in place.
he just continues to smile, endeared as he takes in your surprised demeanor. the taller man takes slow steps towards you without breaking eye contact. the flowers are tight in his nervous grip, but he tries not to show how heâs feeling.
you let out another breath when he reaches you, and he carefully removes your bag from your arm. he sets it down gently before he turns back to you. his arm extends, presenting the giant bouquet to you.
âyou gone leave me hanginâ?â he asks softly.
âno,â you choke out as your eyes fill with tears. âIâ⊠onyâŠâ
âcâmere, baby.â
you feel yourself being tugged into his arms and you hug him tight as tears start to fall. âIâm sorry I lied to you,â he mumbles softly. âI wonât again, I promise. youâre just too intuitive, you know? I wanted to surprise you but yo ass always catchinâ me before I can, soâŠâ
he lets out a breath as he squeezes you tighter in his arms. âwalk with me. I got you,â he says softly. he pulls back to see his pretty girlâs face, taking in how you look up at him with so much love. he gently wipes your fallen tears and reaches for your hand. âready?â he asks quietly. you nod, sniffling softly.
he walks you down the path of petals, keeping you close to him. the music continues to fill the room and you can smell the candles that you picked out from the small business you both went to the day before. your heartâs racing in your chest and your emotions are overflowing.
he really did get you.
he leads you to the center of the room, hand never leaving yours. you both take a deep breath when you reach a stopping point, looking at each other. he goes to speak, but realizes he still has the flowers in his hand.
âhold on,â he murmurs as he searches for somewhere to set them. you can hear the nerves in his voice and see how he fumbles slightly. itâs cute. heart-warming. eventually he just decides to set them on the kitchen counter.
when he gets back, he takes both of your hands in his. you smile at him, reassuring him as your thumbs caress his hands. itâs a gesture he appreciates, something small to help ease his nerves. he takes another breath to settle himself before he speaks.
âá„«áĄ,â he starts warmly. his eyes are deep pools of genuine reverence. âthe love I have for you canât really be put into words. itâs why I show you every chance I get. itâs why I do everything that I do. because you deserve to know just how adored you are by me, every second of every day.
âever since that day you first walked into my life, youâve had me. it didnât take me time at all to realize that youâre the only woman I could ever want. youâre the woman Iâve dreamed of, the woman I prayed for. your heart and soul are golden, especially in a word like ours. I see you for who you are. caring, kind, vulnerable⊠funny, attentive, dedicated, and real. Iâve seen you grow. Iâve seen you love. Iâve seen you cry, and Iâve seen you succeed.
âyouâre everything,â his voice cracks. âyouâre my sun and stars, my moon and galaxy. youâre a warm hug and an oasis of peace. youâre my laughter, youâre my joy, and youâre my future. you inspire me. you turn everything you touch into gold, baby.
âwith you in my life, I feel like Iâm being rewarded for something Iâm not even aware of. I canât believe that someone like you could ever exist, let alone want me the way you do. Iâve never felt so seen and Iâve never felt like I fit with a partner so effortlessly. we listen to each other, we communicate, we stick through the tough times, but we have fun through everything.
âI lost sight of that earlier this year, and I can admit that. I forgot that I never have to perform for you, that I donât have to be on a constant working wheel. I never wanted to neglect you, Iâve just always wanted to give you the absolute best that I can offer because you deserve no less. but you reminded me, love. you reminded me about our foundation of partnership, how Iâm not in this alone. and you supported me when I needed to readjust myself. I can never thank you enough for that.
âI canât explain how at home I feel with you. I feel most myself with my babygirl by my side, and I love how you can be your most genuine, open self with me too. I love being your safe space, your man, and whatever else you want me to be. I want to be all of that for you and more, always. I want to be your shoulder to cry on. I want to carry you through the dark times. and I want to lean on you too.
âI wanna be your husband, baby,â he says softly. âI wanna be yours forever. youâre too good to let go of, and I never intend to do so.â
youâre a mess of tears. you can barely even make out his face as he gets on one knee, hand sliding into his pocket. âoh, ony,â you say softly, one hand raising to land on your beating chest.
âI love you, á„«áĄ. I want nothing more than to call you my wife,â he says warmly. he opens the box, revealing a gorgeous ring. âwill you do me the honor of marrying me?â
you donât even hesitate.
âyes!â you nod frantically, immediately holding your hand out to him. âGod, ony, there was never a doubt in my mind. yes!â
youâre a puddle of sobs as he slides the ring onto your hand. itâs a perfect fit, and you donât even allow time to wonder how. you just immediately wrap your arms around his shoulders in a hug.
he lifts you into his arms as he stands, holding you close to his heart. âthank you, baby. I promise Iâll love you with everything in me,â he murmurs deeply, voice wavering from the emotions of it all.
âyou already do,â you sniffle, pulling back to look at him. heâs still holding you off the ground, tight in his embrace, as you reach to cradle his face. you press your lips to his and pour all of your feelings into it the kiss. he returns it with just as much fervor.
you pull back to look at him adoringly, caressing his cheek. âthe love we have is something Iâll never seek to replace. Iâm yours, ony,â you whisper softly.
he grins then, his own eyes wet with tears. his arms remain tight around you as he twirls your form around, making you squeal and laugh.
he gently sets you back onto your feet, smiling down at you. âmy lady,â he says warmly. after all of this time connecting, learning each other, loving each other, he can finally call you his forever. he leans to press another kiss to your lips as he wraps his arms around your waist.
when you hear the door close, your eyes blink open, turning to look over your shoulder. âsâjust the photographer, baby,â he explains, hand rubbing up and down your back.
you hum and turn back to look up at him, smiling as you both enjoy being on cloud 9. he reaches to wipe your remaining tears with a gentle touch. âI canât believe you actually fucking got me,â you laugh softly.
âI know thatâs right,â you giggle, kissing him softly. âI was gonna come in here and chew you out, but Iâm so happy I didnât have to. Iâm so blessed to have you, my ony.â
onyâs heart flutters in his chest. your ony. thatâs right. yours and only yours.
âyouâre still taking me to the wine bar, though, right?â you ask with a raised brow. he laughs at that, head tilting back, but youâre seriously still thinking about that place. have been since you saw it.
âyes, baby, we have a reservation for tomorrow. I just wanted to spend tonight with just you. that okay?â
you smile, but youâre lowkey irritated. of course he already booked a reservation. he really planned everything to a t and you had not a clue. ââcourse it is. I still canât believe you fuckinâ got me, big head.â
he snickers and pinches your side teasingly. âyeah, I did that shit. got you cryinâ like a baby.â
âalright, thatâs enough of that,â you squint up at him. âyou cried too.â
âyeah, yeah, whatever,â he chuckles. âcâmon, I know you hungry. I have dinner for us.â
á„«áĄ
visual. visual. visual.
itâs unreal.
the candles on the table create an intimate vibe, the petals are scattered everywhere, and your man is right across from you, holding your hand as you talk and eat.
itâs beyond intimate. youâve never felt this way before. the level of dedication between the two of you has deepened in a heavily serious way, and itâs a sensation thatâs so unfamiliar.
the love of your life, the man that will hopefully be the father of your kids, the partner you always prayed for but doubted the existence of. itâs heavy, but itâs a weight you carry with pure happiness, adoration, and intention.
onyâs not on cloud nine, heâs in heaven. his lady, his future wife, his world is on the same page as him. partnership. marriage. dedication. heâs so luckyâ so blessed to have someone that sees all of him, understands, and is still dedicated beyond belief to loving him forever.
he canât wait to share this with the world. heâs so excited to marry you. he canât believe that there were times that he doubted youâd say yes, but your agreement is a testament to where both of you are planning for your future.
the both of you are giddy.
your emotions hit you like a wave over and over as youâre repeatedly overwhelmed with gratitude. this man, the love of your life, is yours. he wants to be yours, not just for now, but for forever.
âbaby, donât cry,â he murmurs warmly, reaching across the table to wipe your tears once again. âmy loveâs feeling a lot right now, hm?â
you sniffle and nod, leaning into his touch. âIâm just⊠really happy, pa. thatâs all.â
ony hums softly, caressing your cheek. his sweet girl. heâs so grateful that everything went as planned. âyou deserve all of this and more. Iâm dedicated to loving you like this forever, á„«áĄ.â
âif youâre trying to stop my crying, youâre doing a bad job,â you laugh through your tears, reaching to softly clear them. he smiles and pulls back to step around the table and slide into the spot next to you. wordlessly, he pulls you to him.
moments later, a kiss is pressed to your forehead. âIâm gonna clean up, baby. why donât you head to the bedroom and wait for me?â
your breath hitches softly. the mention of the bedroom after the high of the trip, the proposal, the wine, the overwhelming amount of love you feel⊠your eyes meet his as you pull back, finger softly trailing down his chest. âI can help,â you say softly. âor you can just⊠leave it.â
his gaze is low lidded. the corner of his lip tugs upwards just slightly. âweâre in the woods surrounded by all types of wildlife that love leftovers. you stay here and Iâm taking you on this counter. not very romantic, hm?â
giggling softly, you feel your face warm. with a shake of your head, you lean to kiss the man tenderly. âI wouldnât mind,â you say softly. your breath tickles his skin and you can feel how his hand squeezes you just a bit tighter.
âgo, princess,â he murmurs lowly, voice slightly quieter. âI wonât say it again. be ready for me.â
your bottom lip is pulled between your teeth and you nod before giving him another simple kiss. you go to pull away, but his hand slides up into the curls at your nape, cradling the back of your head as he deepens the gesture momentarily.
you whimper in surprise as he takes control, tilting your head and taking your breath away. itâs overpowering and raw and sexy. itâs making your stomach swirl with deep arousal.
he pulls back from the kiss, but tugs your bottom lip with his teeth as if he was jealous you did it on your own. you moan and arch into him as he gently sucks until he releases it with a pop.
fuck.
you look to him with labored breathing and he looks at you as if you hung the moon, pleased with how dazed you are.
âgo.â
you donât hesitate to follow instructions. you purse your lips, silent from the kiss, and pull back from him. he watches you closely, like heâs just drinking up your form. you donât feel his eyes leave you until youâre in the bedroom and out of sight.
âshit,â you mumble to yourself. you can tell where your future is headed, not just for the years coming, but for the night as well.
heâs about to absolutely ruin you, and youâre about to let him. shit, youâll probably beg him.
you take a deep and begin to undress, revealing the black lace set you are tremendously grateful you wore with the dress. itâs snug and sexy and you know onyâs going to love it.
footsteps approach sooner than you thought. you can only guess that itâs the shared anticipation of the night fueling you both.
when you hear the door open, your gaze lifts to meet you lovers. his eyes are dark in the low lighting, and the way they sweep over your form so reverently makes you want to speed things up.
but itâs obvious in the slow way that he approachesâ heâs going to take his time tonight. few complaints on your end. the slower he moves, the more your fire burns.
âyouâre so fuckinâ perfect,â he rasps when he comes to the foot of the bed. itâs like youâre being given to him on a silver platter, his own personal angel.
no, not an angel.
because the things heâs going to do to you tonight⊠he can never utter them for fear of tainting anotherâs soul.
he breathes out as he begins to undress, dazed and captivated by you beyond belief. âjust⊠stay there. let me look at you,â he says breathlessly. your face warms in response and you canât help but look away. he stops you before you can.
âlook at me. please,â he murmurs. his desperation is only for your ears, and he wants to see you, see all of you and your reactions when you have each other tonight. he doesnât want you to look away. you canât look away.
your gazes meet once more and he crawls onto the bed in his bare state. contrary to your belief, your heart can beat faster. you notice as the distance closes between your bodies.
when your eyes meet his, he has a physical reaction. even with only the touch of your gaze, he feels himself jump. âjust like that,â he murmurs lowly. âdonât look away.â
he continues to crawl up the bed until heâs right up against you. he manipulates your body until youâre lying on your back, straddling his waist as he leans his arm on the headboard above you.
âso beautiful,â he whispers, one hand descending to slowly caress from your knee up your thigh. he lets out a soft breath as he presses his pelvis against yours, your underwear separating you from the proximity you really want.
âall mine,â he mumbles. âlet me show how grateful I am, yeah?â
you canât respond because he bends to press his lips to yours. this brings you closer, his chest pressing against yours and his hips pressing harder. the sensation makes you gasp as your hands find purchase on his shoulders.
but when you feel his hips start to wind against yours? you canât help but moan, your eyebrows pulling together. heâs hard, and you can feel the pressure of it through the thin material of your panties. he tries a few different motions of his hips, searching through the channels of your body until he finds the ones that make you have the biggest reactions.
softer, faster, harder, slower. you can feel the fabric of your bottoms getting wetter and wetter as he teases you. he leans to take your lips, tongue sneaking into your mouth to dance for an intimate moment before he pulls back. he has the audacity to mumble, âlook at me.â
a short moan escapes you as your eyes gaze into his, his hips still a constant wave against yours. the look on his face is something you hope to remember for years to come. he already looks so gone. focused on your body so much that itâs all he can think about. all he can feel is you.
âyou think I can make you come like this?â he asks huskily. thereâs a sound slowly becoming more and more audible, the slickness between the two of you building. âI should. you deserve to come as many times as your body wants to. imma give you that.â
your arms wrap around his shoulders as he continues to grind into you, responding to every breath and moan like he understands a language that only you speak.
âmâtalkinâ to you, love,â he breathes, pressing a hand against your back to encourage you to arch against him. âyou donât wanna talk to daddy? mânot doinâ enough? tell me.â
you whine then, your pussy throbbing against him as his words continue to stimulate you. âfuck- just⊠ah, keep going,â you breathe out, pulling him closer. his lips meet yours briefly before his hand slides to your hip, pressing you against him more.
âwhatever you say, mama,â he mumbles, hips slowly moving to keep himself in a constant press against your clit. he moves to have one arm around your neck and the other up your back. his hand finds home in your nape again, holding you to his chest.
âjust feel it,â he breathes. âjust feel me. you do this to me, baby. no one else. this is yours. Iâm yours.â
you take in his words, your eyes fluttering shut. âshit,â you murmur, your legs wrapping around his waist. heâs just so perfect and he knows how to hit all of your spots. the way he talks, the way he feels, everything is just right.
but itâs not enough. itâs not getting you where you need it to reach. âplease, I- more. I want more, ony.â
âyou want me to eat her? hm?â he asks lowly, hips deepening their waves against you. âwanna put that pretty pussy on my face?â you exhale as he moves against you, nodding quickly.
âcome feed her to me then,â he mumbles, using his position to lift you in his arms as he sits back on the bed. the look in his eye is a mix of desire and a subtle determination. âcâmon, baby. put that ass in my face.â
your breath catches, but you move nonetheless. he leans back to rest against the bed, dark brown eyes staring intently into yours until you move to face away from him, completely bare as you carefully straddle his face. âdonât piss me off,â he mumbles gruffly, moving you by your thighs to bring you close.
âsâmy shit,â he mumbles. he brings you to smush against him, tongue instantly searching for your bundle of nerves. the tip of his tongue swirls against your clit slowly, an agonizing tease to get your attention.
ah, fuck. you have to prepare yourself. if thereâs one thing this man knows how to do, itâs eat some pussy. âony,â you press, rocking your hips back in a request for more.
ârelax,â he mumbles, using his hands to spread your cheeks apart. âtake deep breaths and relax your body, baby. let me eat her right.â he flicks a quick few licks against your clit before puckering a kiss against it. you release a deep, long moan as he sucks gently before releasing it with a pop. âslow breathing, princess.â
you force yourself to take deep breaths as you clutch the sheets on either side of you. his hands caress and squeeze your thighs and ass as he pulls you closer and closer against his face. he shakes his head in a quick motion before he gets to work.
the moan that escapes you is more of a squeal as he goes to town, lapping and sucking at your heat like itâs his last meal. he tongue moves in different motionsâ flicks and circles, as he slurps and spits. itâs sloppy, itâs wet, and your keening above him as he makes your toes curl.
âfuck, papa, you eatinâ me so good,â you pant, starting to rock your hips back and forth. his arms hook under your thighs and wrap around your waist, pressing you even closer as he groans. the vibrations make you squeak, and you lurch forward and away, only to be brought right back.
ony just canât get enough. heâs sure his eyes are rolled back as he continues to dive in, your juices dripping down the sides of his mouth as he demands more. itâs what he needs, he needs you to give everything to him. he needs to pleasure your body as much as he can, more than he ever has.
your moans are drawn longer and longer as you get closer to the edge. âfuuuck, ony,â you cry out. his hand comes down and slaps against your ass, an action that makes your pussy jump as he continues to eat you up. your hips grind and grind as he slurps and groans.
when he pulls back and licks a stripe from your clit to your ass, you body freezes as your toes curl. he spreads your ass and dives into giving it the same treatment, fingers shifting to circle your clit.
âmmshitââ you choke, hands moving to grasp his legs below you. âdaddy, thatâs⊠haaa, fuck. sâtoo much! thatâsâ ngh!â
when your orgasm crashes over you, he drinks it all up as he squeezes your ass, holding you to him as you moan and cry out. âfuck, fuck, fuck,â you ramble, your hand reaching back to press against the back of his head. âohhhh, my God, ony!â
he shakes his head again, wringing as much pleasure out of you as possible. you pant as your eyes roll back, hips jumping in overstimulation as you fall forward. youâre left bare to him. letting him pull every drop of pleasure from your both with just his mouth and hands.
as you try to catch your breath and your sanity, his hands move over your body, massaging and caressing everywhere he can reach. âfuck,â he rasps. âtaste so damn good. Iâm damn near addicted to you, baby.â
all you can do is pant, your leg twitching slightly in the aftermath. itâs insane how you feel, so weak-limbed and short of breath and he hasnât even taken you yet.
he shifts your body again, his touch gentle as he moves with awareness of your sensitive state. he places you on your back and rests between your thighs. he then starts to softly massage your body, hands caressing your arms and hands and thighs. they slide down your legs and to your feet, reaching back to work out the tenseness from your clenching of them.
he holds your body with so much love and care, and as you lay back in the soft comforter and mattress, you feel yourself begin to slip into that sweet feel of submission, of releasing control into the hands you trust the most⊠it washes over you in waves and itâs like ony can feel it.
âmy baby,â he speaks, just barely above a whisper. you limbs are starting to relax more and more and he heightens the strength of his massaging. âkeep breathing, love. keep relaxing. just feel.â
you swallow slightly, eyes blinking open to meet his. he smiles down at you and continues to soothe you with his touch. âI love you,â he whispers softly,
âI love you too,â you whisper back, voice just slightly strained. he leans again to press his lips to yours, tongue intimately twirling with yours. he shifts then, and you can feel his length rest between your thighs, reaching to your belly button. it makes your clit jump against him, and he has to breathe out at the sensation.
he reaches down between the both of you, hand lightly tracing down your stomach and to your clit, lightly spanking once, then twice. you hips jump just slightly in response, and then he presses a singular finger between your folds.
he keeps eye contact with you, watching as your lashes flutter in response to his touch. he presses into you then, eyes flicking to catch how you pull your lip between your teeth. he begins to move his finger back and forth, adding another when youâre ready.
one becomes two, and soon your weak, overstimulated whimpers become full blown moans as he brings your arousal back to life. heâs taking his time because he knows your body, and the benefits are showing. he curves his fingers deep, watching as you spread your legs and rock your hips.
the scrunch of your face, the furrow of your brow, the way you call his name, itâs all driving him deeper and deeper into that need to service you, to make you reach your limits of pleasure in unprecedented ways.
and just like that, his fingers are gone. the whimper you let out is shamelessly pathetic, and you blink up at him with wide, questioning eyes. but when he flicks his wrist and lightly plaps his heavy dick against you, your legs canât help but spread instinctively.
the sight is gold for him, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. âgood girl,â he drawls, eyes raking over your body. âmuscle memory *just* for papa. you ready for me, baby? ready for me to give you what you need?â
âplease,â you murmur. your breathing is labored, skin prickling with desire and anticipation. âI need you.â
he wastes no time then. he presses himself against you, reaching to cup your jaw so that you can keep your eyes locked on his. you drag out a moan as he slips into you, taking advantage of your earlier wetness.
âyeah, that feel good, donât it?â he grunts out, he himself having to take a breath at the squeeze of your pussy. âmmm, fuck, baby,â he damn near slurs. his eyes are glazed as he starts to rock his hips. âhow can I forget how wet you get for me?â
he leans forward to rest his arms on the either side of your head, chest resting against yours as he grinds into you. you feel so full, the way he thrusts slowly pushing air out of you. âoh, fuck,â you whine, arms wrapping around his back. âsâtoo much,â you pant. âfuck, onyyyy.â
you canât help but let out deep, pressing breaths and moans as he buries his fat dick into you. âtake it, baby. itâs yours,â he pants. if he thought he was in heaven before, he was surely wrong. this is heaven, knee deep in your waters with your whines and moans right next to his ear. itâs a dream.
âyou deserve it,â he huffs, leaning to press open mouthed kisses up the column of your neck. he continues to encourage you, staving off his own orgasm even though the grip you have around him has him ready to bust. âevery inch, every kiss, everything. you deserve it. drown in it, baby. itâs yours to get lost in.â
he pulls back to rest his weight on his arms, hips rocking deeper and deeper as you open up more for him. your moans are deep, and youâre really trying to keep eye contact despite the fact that every thrust makes your eyes roll.
âpretty ass,â he murmurs softly, watching you closely. he tilts your chin up, pressing kisses to your cheeks, forehead, nose, all while you pant and whine.
âfuck, princess,â he groans throatily, reaching to grip your waist. âgrippinâ me so perfectly. we fit like we made for each other, yeah? cause we are. youâre gonna be my wife, baby. my forever. are you happy? tell daddy.â
âIâm happy, ony,â you croak, eyes filling with tears from the pleasure and emotion. âIâm over the moon. fuuuuck, Iâm so⊠so happy.â youâre still panting, trying to breathe deep, when he reaches down to play with your clit.
âgood,â he grunts, hips diving deeper and making you cry out. âpromise Iâll keep you that way.â itâs heavenly. a perfect view of his handsome face, the look in his eyes, they way he moves against you⊠itâs a true experience that you wish you could hold onto forever.
âlet me see it,â he murmurs breathlessly, hips meeting yours again and again and again. you look up at him, confused in your blissed out state as he continues to ravish you past the point of clarity.
you canât think about anything but the way grinds into you, a mess forming where you meet.
âyour ring, baby,â he explains with a pleasured groan. âgrab those pretty titties and let daddy see your ring.â
right. the ring.
just the thought makes you flutter around him, and he groans at the feel as you reach up to follow his direction. âfuck, yeah, mama. wish I could take a picture. Iâd frame it and keep it just for me. so fuckinâ perfect.â
you donât know why it makes you even wetter, the thought of him doing exactly that. having a picture just for him, showing off the ring he worked so hard to get. reminding him of the proposal he worked so hard on, and the fact that you said yes.
âdo it,â you rasp.
his hips stutter slightly, and heâs broken out of his daze just a bit to look at you through the haze. âhuh?â he asks.
âdo it.â
he licks his lips as he blinks. did he hear that right? did you just tell him toâ
âdo it, papa,â you moan, your legs wrapping tighter around him.
fuck, thereâs no way he can deny you when you moan like that, or himself from being able to see you in this position anytime he wants. he pulls back to blindly reach for his phone on the nightstand, and when he grabs it, he holds the camera up to have you in frame.
the look you give him past the camera, the way your ring glistens in the candle light as you grab your chest⊠it makes onyâs heart stutter. heâs so damn in love with you, itâs almost fucking scary. âGod, I love you,â he grunts, tossing the phone away to press kisses up your neck to your lips.
he starts to buck into you again, hips moving expertly, and you feel his fingers at your clit. you can only whine in response as you kick your feet up. youâre at his mercy and thereâs nothing you can do but take the loads of pleasure he brings your body. you pant and pant until another orgasm washes over you, small spurts of liquid squirting out of you.
âohhh, yeah, princess,â he huffs, hips still meeting yours in rhythm. âgive it to me. give it to me, just like that.â you can only curl your toes as your eyes roll back, hips jerking. you have to breathe manually after such an intense orgasm.
his hips slow, but donât stop. he leans back and grabs your leg, shifting to lay on his side with your leg over his arm. he reaches to wrap his hand around your neck as he slowly meets your hips with his over and over.
âone more,â he moans. you canât tell if itâs an encouragement or a request. âcome on, princess, give me one more. make it good.â
ony leans his head down to your ankle, tongue trailing lazily up before he plants kisses to the top of your foot. his hand hooks under your thigh and he presses it up into your chest. he stares down at you with heavy lidded eyes, bottom lip pulling between his deep as his hips rock deeper.
the stretch is almost too much. heâs so deep, touching your heart damn near, and you moan deep as you reach up to grab a pillow tight. âoh my fuck,â you cry out, toes curling as he dives into you.
âuh-uh, open up for me, baby. relax,â he coos, pressing a kiss to your leg. you whimper as you try to breathe, watching him as he presses kisses down your foot and to your toes. âjust one more, princess. I need it. câmon,â he murmurs. he presses another kiss to your toe before pulling it into his mouth.
the moan you let out is sinful, as the sensation in combination with his thrusts is all consuming. âfuck, fuck, fuck. onyyy!â
he hums around your toe, moving to play with your clit again. tears build in your eyes at the sensation and ony can tell by the grip you have on him that youâre close. he pulls back to look at you, your debauched state only bringing him closer to the edge.
âmmm, I love how pretty you look on my dick, baby,â he rasps. âvision âa beauty. daddyâs favorite. daddyâs only. I hope you feel that shit in yo soul.â
âI feel it, ony,â you whine, head tilting back. âfuck, papa, Iâm gonna make a mess.â
itâs music to his ears. his hips start to move fast at the thought, movements less smooth. he chases his own orgasm as he feels yours wash over you and him, your wetness painting you both. you cry out, reaching out to hold him tight to ground you as wave after wave of sensation hit.
the both of you pant, limbs dropping lazily as you catch your breath. he pulls you close, your back to his chest, and just holds you there. itâs silent except for your breathing and your eyes fall shut as you bask in the after glow.
âholy⊠fuckâŠâ you say between huffs, your heart starting to slow bit by bit.
âyeah?â ony grunts, eyes peeling open to look at you.
âdonât start that. couldâve proposed with a pizza and Iâd still cry,â you snort.
âI ainât proposinâ to you with no fuckinâ pizza. hell wrong witchu.â
âitâs just an expression.â
âwell, stop expressinâ it.â
âdo you need that? like are you good?â
âdo you need that? cause I can go another round now if you really bout it.â
ââŠwhatever, ony. always makinâ stuff about you.â
he snorts at that, pinching your side, and you both laugh until you fall quiet.
âI love you, ony. so much,â you say softly. he caresses your side and presses a kiss to your head, heart fluttering at your expression.
âI love you too, á„«áĄ.â
you both stay there a while, just relaxing in each otherâs arms as you get your energy back. itâs like old times, but better. the love was always the same, only deeper and more intentional. itâs on a different level now, and neither of you could be happier.
a/n: this was supposed to be short, a lil sum to get me back writing so I can finish the next crys + ony fic⊠and it took on a life of its own. hope you like! as always, feedback welcome and wanted <3
cw: fluff, single father, profanity, suggestive themes, black!reader, not proofread unfortunately
an: omggg omg. this was so fun yallll i love himmmmmm. i already have fic ideas for them, so so juicy. im so excited to share wit y'all!!! finally!!! enjoy, kisses!!! alsoooo, àšËÌŁÌŁÌŁÍà§ is y/n just so yall aint confused
âË.àŒ so yâalls little meet cute starts your second year of teaching. lowkey still fresh out of school, degree acquired, little life set up and ready to inspire the children! youâve worked at this for so long and youâre buzzing to be able to say that youâre finally where you want to be in life. the kids, the environment, the hours, you just feel so fulfilled⊠for a single woman, working and living on her own â saturday nightâs out with the girls only give you so much.
âË.àŒ you especially look forward to meet the teacher, just before the first day of school â always excited to get a first look at your students that year and the parents youâll need keep that right eye out for. howeverrrr, you didnât expect to have such a good-looking surprise that year. meet the teacher goes off without a hitch ofc, but about an hour before you should start closing up your classroom for the evening, in walks ony⊠holding the tiny hand of his adorable, bright-eyed daughter amira.Â
âË.àŒ ony steps into the classroom and immediately clocks you â legs crossed at your desk, gloss sparkling, runway-grade teacher fit, and attention currently on some other parent - unfortunately for him. while youâre chatting, he takes a minute to stay stunned, amira running off to play with the few kids left in the classroom. he wouldâve bet every penny to his name that love-at-first-sight didnât exist, but heâd be a broke ass mf today if the feeling spreading through his body is any sign. he's watching your lips while you talk to that other woman like he already knows he wanna kiss them for the rest of his damn life.Â
âË.àŒ âyou must be amiraâs dadâ your warm, bright greeting sounds like seduction to him, having to physically shake his damn head to clear it â youâd been expecting him and amira all day, grateful for the chance to meet them before school starts. ony, on the other hand, thinks he actually might be in a dream â he swears he can see you glowing like an angel, and the sweet, luscious scent invading his senses couldnât possibly be anyone else in the room. he wants to take you out TONIGHT, but he figures he should probably respond first. âdamn⊠uhâyeah. i mean, yeah. onyankopon. but.. you could just call me ony.â he so outta practice he donât even know what to say, just grinning in your face really. youâre very professional, and take your place of work very seriously but you definitely notice his nerves â you think it's cute how surprised he is that youâre bad.
âË.àŒ as soon as he and amira leave the classroom, heâs texting his group chat âyo. i jus met my wifeâ
âË.àŒ amira lovesss you off rip. obsessed. right next to you during read aloud, always participating even if her answer is dead wrong, never afraid to ask for extra help, begging you to play with her and her little friends at recess. sheâs practically attached at your hip. AND tink got a mouth on her lowkey. always ratting out her daddy like âmiss àšËÌŁÌŁÌŁÍà§, my daddy says you too pretty to be teaching these bad ass kidsâ you literally laugh out loud and almost drop your whiteboard marker but itâs not funny âamira! what did i say about quoting your father? and! what i say about cussin?â. you tell him about it when he picks her up and he just looks away smirking like âmm⊠you mad she being honest?â
âË.àŒ amira draws one of onyâs hoodies for a âfavorite thingsâ activity because âhe wears it all the time. he thinks miss àšËÌŁÌŁÌŁÍà§ likes when he wears it.â
âË.àŒ at first you only see him at morning drop-offs through the open window of his truck, just a lil smile when he winks at you before you both get on with your lives. but best believe he's got a plan â he gon make sure you see him dammit, and you start seeing LOTS more of him. you head outside for morning drop-off? he parked first in line, leaning against the front side of the sparkling truck, waving you over with that sneaky ass smirk that's saying âcâmere. i know you wannaâ. so you decide to chop it up with him â innocently OFC - while you wait for your signal to start letting kids in. yâall try to make small talk but ony gets bored of that with a quickness. this is all he gets to see of you - ofc he's making the most of it. yall talk about everything under the sun in that drop-off line â work, young parenthood, goals. but that deep, rough voice like a hot kiss on your neck⊠he could get your social security number out of you if he wanted to. he doesnât though, he wants your favorite meal so he can learn it like the back of his hand. he wants your hobbies and what you do with your freetime so he can plan the PERFECT date for yâall. he wants your family plans, so heâll know if he can turn you out like he's planned since meet the teacher.
âË.àŒ that's really not enough for ony though. how else is he supposed to be blessed with your presence? everytime he even gets close to bringing up a date, you curve him on some professional shit. he decides it's time to amp up the pressure, because youâre clearly not understanding how serious he is. soon enough, he's first in line at pick-up too â waiting against his truck for baby girl to come running out yelling âdaddyyyyy!!!â, with you trailing right behind her, smirking at his persistence.
âË.àŒ then he's dropping her off and picking her up early so he gets to see you without all them other eyes, walking all the way into the building just for a few minutes of alone time with you. stays working you up just cuz he likes to see you sweat him a lil, looking you up and down, fingers brushing your side like he canât stop himself from touching you. âwhen you gon let me take you outâŠâ he mumbles softly like heâd spend all day in this classroom with these snotty ass kids if it meant he could be next to you. âwhen you gon quit showing up here like my landlord on the first, mr. ony?â you smile up at him like you want them juicy lips on yours right tf now, but your professionalism keeps him at arm's length - heâs a parent of a student! telling yourself you just need to be cautious until you know how serious he is.
âË.àŒ he always got some excuse to come into the classroom midday and be sneaky while the kids arenât watching - âshe forgot her snack, i swearâ, âi just wanted to say hey, you look real pretty today miss àšËÌŁÌŁÌŁÍà§ ...â, âoh, i just forgot to give her a jacket this morning, it's too damn cold. you warm enough miss àšËÌŁÌŁÌŁÍà§?â heâd give you the hoodie off his back if you said yes. neverrr misses a parent teacher conference, always on time with some beverage for you and a whole damn folder of shit. obviously he's tryna impress but you have no clue what could possibly be in there??
âË.àŒ what gets you the most? hes such a good dad and its sexy as hell. patience like a saint, makes her laugh nonstop, gentle giant but the protective dad instincts are always on ten. plus, amiraâs hair is always laid - cute baubles and bows, slick back styles, braids, twist outs⊠he does it all!! and does it very very well. you see the adorable lunches he packs her, flower shaped fruit, heart shaped sandwiches, cute little notes that sometimes include a little message for her to pass along to you - sheâll jump at any excuse to skip up to your desk and yap.Â
âË.àŒ every time he shows up, you swear he got finer. soft hoodie, grey sweats, clean sneakers, and the most delicious cologne youâve ever smelled in your life. your professional act crumbling more and more every time you see him, all he has to do is bend over to tie her little crisp ass dunks, and let that hoodie ride up a lil bit exposing them thick ass chocolate abs, that v-line? you have to remind yourself that youâre at work all damn day, getting flashbacks to that flash of skin like it's the victorian era.
âË.àŒ he starts volunteering for school events and chaperoning⊠coming around all fine and big, just for the wasp moms to absolutely swarm him, all while he's undressing you from across the room - that lip bite was NOT for them! haha!
warnings: cursing, men can be sucky, bluecollar!ony, flirting
pliers, pliers, pliers, you think to yourself as you search through the store.
about a week ago, the stream on your shower head started acting funny. at first you could just hit it a couple of times with the perfect amount of strength and itâd be knocked back into its senses. over time, the trick started to work less and less.
one particularly frustrating day led to a swing with too much umph in it, unfortunately knocking the thing out of commission. after a brief moment of frustrated silence, you decided to just replace it. youâve already picked out the fancy massage shower head you want. now, here you are in good âole home depot, searching for all the tools needed.
youâre roaming the aisles and trying to look like you have at least the slightest clue what youâre doing, even though your source of knowledge for the particular task at hand is just⊠well, the internet. it probably isnât a good idea, you doing this yourself, but thereâs no way youâre paying out the ass for something you can let youtube guide you through. hopefully you wonât make it worse. if all else fails, you can just continue to take baths for now.
âpliers!â you smile to yourself when you notice the rack. your smile slowly but surely dwindles when you realize just how many types there are up on the wall, the variation of colors and shapes immediately making you regret your decision. âwhat the fuck,â you mumble.
combination, flat nose, linesman⊠the list goes on and on and on.
before you can let out a sigh of frustration, you hear the agitating sound of someone clearing their throat behind you. âneed help, little lady?â a voice calls, sounding almost slimey in its delivery.
you turn, top lip already itching to raise in irritation, but you see itâs one of the employees. the bright orange apron is an insult to your eyes, but itâs not as bad as the look on the guyâs face. âoh. um... yeah, if you donât mind. I just need a pair of pliers to change out my shower head,â you say casually.
he hums with a raise of his eyebrow, eyes flicking up and down your form. itâs a judgemental gaze, very telling for how this conversation is about to go.
oh, brother.
âyou sure you can do that all by yourself? pretty thing like you shouldnât have to get your hands dirty,â he drawls, a smirk tugging at his lips. it almost makes you want to gag.
âIâm sure,â you say blandly. you definitely didnât come here to talk to mr. greasy, despite his attempt. âI just need a basic pair of pliers. please and thanks.â
he doesnât seem to like your tone, smirk falling as his ego is bruised. he must pull shit like this all the time. itâs a wonder his ass hasnât been fired.
âwell, I canât just sell you anything basic, sweetie. thatâd be doing you a disservice,â he tries again. he walks past you to the wall display, gesturing with his arms. you get a whiff of funk every time he moves. âthese here are top notch. definitely what Iâd recommend. thereâs no way youâll mess up.â
before you can give the nastiest eye roll manageable, a voice grumbles from behind you.
âaye, bruh, you can chill with all that sales shit.â
ony had approached behind you a few moments prior, several feet back as he waited for the two of you to move and stop blocking the wall.
his trip to the store was supposed to be simple. he just wanted to get a new pair of tongue and groove pliers, maybe some more bug spray for his home, and then get an icee from the gas station after working all day in the damn heat.
but here he is, sighing softly to himself as he listens to the worker attempt to ruin both of your days. he figured heâd put himself and you out of your misery.
when you turn to inspect the newcomer, whoâs quite frankly saying what you were thinking, itâs like a scene from a movie. you can hear the imaginary music playing and everything feels like itâs moving in slow motion.
behind you is the finest man youâve ever seen. dark skin, locs pulled up into a messy bun, bushy eyebrows pulled into a slight frown. heâs handsome, kind of like the men youâd expect to be in a monthly calendar of fine ass, hardworking beaus. light brown eyes, beard in slight need of a trim. his arms are crossed and big, covered in tattoos and small scars, and his form towers over yours. rugged but sexy.
âthatâs what Iâm supposed to do, sir,â the worker says with a tight smile. âis there anywhere I can point you to? Iâm a bit busy helping this girl right now. as you can see.â
your gaze flickers back and forth, taking in both menâs demeanors. now, how did I end up in this? you ask yourself.
ânah. Iâm good here,â ony responds with a shrug. his gaze is steady and doesnât even shift your way. he stares down the employee with a calm look, seemingly unbothered. âthis young lady donât need you in her face if you gone be condescending. and she needs a basic tool for a basic job, not something sheâll have to spend big money on to use once.â
the workerâs eyes narrow, but before he can respond, someone speaks over the intercom.
âbuford please report to aisle 13. buford please report to aisle 13.â
the worker, now outed as buford, huffs and crosses his arms. âalright, miss, Iâll be right back, okay? if this guy bothers you, just come grab me.â you give a tight lipped smile in response. âyeah, sure. thanks.â
with one last (supposedly threatening) look to ony, the employee walks off, grumbling softly under his breath. thereâs a quiet tsk from the man still standing next to you, and he shakes his head as he watches the other retreat.
âsorry about that,â ony says with a nod in bufordâs direction. his tone is softer now, but not overly so, and the strength of his gaze is now on you. it causes a warm feeling to bloom within you and a small smile to tug at your lips.
âyeah. being a woman means unfortunately being used to it,â you say with a soft laugh. âIâm not opposed to a knight in shining armor from time to time, though.â you tilt your head with the tease, a flirty sparkle in your eyes.
hm. ony doesnât like that fact that youâre used to it, though he understands. but he does like the flirting tease from you.
his eyebrow raises as a smile crawls onto his face. such a pretty belle you are. and a fun personality is there too, he can tell. âI ainât a knight, Iâll tell you that. but I can fix that shower head for you. if you want.â
âmmm, I donât know,â you say, a playfully suspicious look on your face. âyouâre still a man. donât want just any stranger in my home.â
âI donât have to be a stranger,â he smiles, obviously quite tickled. the action makes a deep dimple appear on one side, as if the man could get any finer. âbut I do this shit forreal, I swear. here, let me getchu my card.â
he reaches into his wallet and pulls out a slightly crumpled business card, handing the item to you. you take the card and glance over it, noticing the lackluster design layout and plethora of services offered.
âinteresting design. onyankpon, huh?â
âclose. onyankopon, but I go by ony,â he says lowly, correcting your pronunciation. he tilts his head a bit, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. âthat face says you think itâs less than interesting. whatâs ya name, pretty?â
âá„«áĄ,â you answer with a smile. âthe seems⊠slightly legit, I guess. I keep that thang on me though, so how about an exchange of services, mr. ony? I can design a new card for you. this is cute and all, but I can make it better.â
the idea is appealing to the man, but youâre where his full interest lies. thereâs a teasing tug in the way you interact with him. he likes it. âa trade,â he says with a nod. âI can do that. I was fully ready to do it at no fee, though, darlinâ.â
you shrug, face warming just a smidgen. âI donât mind. keeps my skills sharp.â you pause, looking him up and down. âyou are legit, right?â you question with a squint of your eyes.
ony chuckles then, rubbing at his jaw. âIâm forreal. got a truck with my name on it and everything.â
you hum and place your hands on your hips. ââkay then. I donât have to buy the pliers anymore, right? this place is a nightmare. spooky.â
ony shakes his head, dimple on full display with his handsome grin. youâre just too cute to him, all jokes and beauty. ânah. I do, though. âscuse me, á„«áĄ.â
the sound of your name from his lips sounds unfairly addictive. you look up at him as he reaches over your shoulder, body close but not close enough. he keeps his eyes on yours as he grabs the pliers he needs, the scent of his cologne only adding to the experience.
gah damn.
the man gives you another charming smile as he steps back. âI have to go do another job in a few, but call that number when you wanna schedule somethinâ. hope to see you later, pretty. donât leave me hanginâ, yeah?â
á„«áĄ
ânice spot you got, darlinâ,â ony murmurs as he walks through the doorway. itâs a cute sight, seeing his large frame treat your comfy home with so much respect.
he wipes his work boots on your doormat for a long moment, ensuring he wonât track anything around. heâs sure to adjust his work belt so he doesnât budge anything. heâs looking around with rapt curiosity.
âthanks. took me a while to decorate how I liked, but it was worth it,â you smile. âcâmon, Iâll show you the bathroom.â
ony follows behind you, wondering if you wore the cute lounge outfit you have on for him. he intentionally keeps his thoughts respectful, but little does he know, you absolutely did.
he steps into the bathroom behind you, noticing the scent of jasmine and sandalwood from the wax warmer. your place is definitely a womanâs place in all the best ways, and he has no choice but to smile when he sees how cohesive the decor is.
âokay, darlinâ. lemme take a look,â he mumbles. you step aside and wait with your fingers interlocked. after stepping into the shower and looking over the situation, he lets out a focused hum.
âyeah, definitely time for a new one. Iâll get this off real quick, youâll be good as new in a few,â he nods. âwhereâs the replacement?â
âright here in the sink,â you point, happy to help. it feels like opening the door when someone carries a couch or something. like youâre not doing the hard work but still contributing.
ony lets out a warm chuckle, once again amused. youâre just happy to be here and he adores that. âgood. you mind handing it to me when I ask?â
ânope!â you chime.
he shakes his head with a grin, dimple once again capturing your heart. he works efficiently for the next few moments, quickly dismantling, cleaning, and prepping. âalright, pretty,â he murmurs, holding out his hand.
you happily plop the replacement head into his hand and he takes it with a smile. âa lil helper, huh?â he asks as he easily completes his task. âalright. I just need to check for leaks and youâll be good to go. easy peasy.â
âperfect, thanks so much, ony, I really appreciate it,â you smile. who knew a trip to home depot could kill two birds with one stone? free assistance with the shower and a fine ass man.
âno problem,â he chuckles. âjust leave a good review on my site,â he winks.
âwill do. five stars, I promise,â you grin. âIâm gonna run to the other room real fast.â
ony lets put a hum of acknowledgement as he checks over the shower head, vigilantly searching for leaks. you turn to exit, heading to the living room to grab the small cardboard box on your coffee table.
âwhatâs that?â you hear him ask from behind you. you turn and shake the box in your hands, enjoying the rattle. âyour cards! you didnât forget about our deal, did you?â
the man smiles as he crosses his arm, leaning on the doorframe. âI told you I was fine with doing it for free.â
âoh, well,â you roll your eyes. âcâmon, check em out. I only got a few in case you didnât like âem.â
he hums as he approaches you, stopping just short of your frame to take the box from your hands. he lifts the lid and slides a couple out, eyebrows raising in surprise when he sees the new look.
âdamn. this shit look professional as hell. I like the color too.â
âyeah?â you smile. âI made sure it looked as nice as possible, some color to liven it up a little. added your logo from your site. now you just need to keep them in something so theyâre not rumpled when you hand them out.â
he chuckles in response and nods. âhell yeah. I like these much better, forreal. thanks, á„«áĄ.â
âno problem,â you wave dismissively. it really hadnât taken long at all. âservice for service, right? I wouldâve struggled with the shower, and no disrespect, that card was all over the place. misaligned, boring with no color. hope you didnât pay the designer much.â
ony licks his lips and sheepishly rubs at his jaw. âmm. I was the designer, pretty.â
âoop-â you immediately respond, laughing softly. âIâm sorry! I didnât mean it like that.â you did, but now you felt bad, so you feel the need to spare his feelings as much as you can. he probably tried his hardest.
âsâno problem. you were right. this is definitely an upgrade,â he nods, waving the card in his hand. he canât be mad if he just doesnât have the skill, and he never got around to paying someone to do it. âmakes me feel all official and shit with my name on my truck and now this. Iâd say this was a good trade. exceptâŠâ
âexcept?â you ask with a raise of your brow. you were pretty sure you did a damn good job, checking several times that the design was crisp and typo free.
âexcept,â he starts, âI traded for you to redesign my card. not print them.â
you blink at him. âIâm missing your point? I told you I only got a few.â
he shrugs, twinkle of mischief in his brown eyes. âstill paid for them. thatâs technically a service and a purchase. it ainât fair, yâknow?â
âI mean, itâs not really a big dealâŠâ you trail off with a mumble.
âá„«áĄ,â he says warmly, looking at you with a dimpled smile and a tilt of his head. âIâm tryna ask you on a date. just go with it.â
you blink again before you have to fight a smile. cute. really cute. heâs fun.
âhmmm,â you start, tapping your chin. youâre playing the part now, and you have to admit itâs very amusing. âyou might be right about that. sânot a fair trade. we should discuss this further.â
âmhm,â he smirks. âhow about⊠dinner? my treat.â
you bite you lip and tilt your head slightly. âdinner and a drink,â you rebutt.
his smirk widens, a twinkle in his eye. âdinner and drinks.â
âyouâre a bad negotiator. you know that?â you question, squinting playfully.
âI donât know, I feel like I should throw in some extra for emotional distress,â he shrugs. âan unfair trade can be a lot to deal with, you know.â
you laugh and shake your head in disbelief.
âI think youâve got yourself a deal, mr. ony. dinner and drinks, Iâm sold.â
a/n: just a little meetcute :) get the title reference?
this is inspired by one of my text aus lmao. writing a lil everyday is kinda gettin me out this funk ngl. feedback always welcome and wanted <3
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