⤷ ❝ {cw: nsfw mentioned, secret relationship trope, mentions of smoking and drinking, slight! mean connie, clubbing, cheating} ¡! ❞
𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
the party was packed, bass rattling the floors and the air thick with weed, liquor, and sweat. your boyfriend had been texting nonstop since you left the crib but you put that shit on DND the second you walked in. you’d come out on purpose in your tiny leather dress that barely covered your ass and lifted your tits like a push up bra. you knew exactly whose party this was.
connie ran this spot, which meant free entry, free bottles, and vip like clockwork for you and your girl. having a promoter on speed dial — especially one you were fucking — came with perks the average bitch in line didn’t get.
sasha didn’t even have to drag you as you walked straight to the vip rope like you belonged there. “connie! let us up,” sasha called as you both approached the vip section that was closed off to everyone connie didn’t know.
he was leaned against the railing like he owned the city, skin glowing under the neon, fresh fade, neat goatee, and tattoos running down both arms. his eyes dragged over you slow, taking in the dress like he was already picturing it on his floor as a smirk tugged at his mouth.
“bet. y’all good,” he said, voice low as he unclipped the rope. when you brushed past he leaned in, cologne and weed hitting you. “damn… you look good as hell.”
you never blush or play shy with connie. you just smirked back and let your hand graze his chest on the way through. loyalty to your boyfriend? you’d stopped pretending it mattered the first night you let connie take you home.
connie got the bottle service popping quick and slid right into the booth next to you, arm slung behind your shoulders, fingers brushing your bare shoulder like it was already his. you flirted heavy, bold as hell, biting your lip while your hand rested on his chest, nails lightly dragging.
“you always come through dressed like you tryna start problems?” he asked, lips close to your ear. you turned, brushing your mouth against his jaw. “only when i know i’ll get handled right. i’m goin’ with you tonight or what?”
he chuckled, low and quick. “you already know the answer to that.”
the night got blurry in the best way. you danced on him in vip, back to his chest, ass grinding slow and deliberate while his hands gripped your hips like he was holding on for dear life. his goatee brushed your naked shoulder as he muttered, “keep doing that and we not making it out this club.”
you laughed, turned in his arms, and looked him dead in the eyes. “then stop playing and take me now.”
by 2 a.m. you were in the backseat of his black bmw, windows fogged the fuck up. dress shoved around your waist, riding him deep and nasty while the muffled bass from the club thumped outside. his hands squeezed your ass hard, pulling you down on every stroke. “shit… just like that,” he groaned, goatee brushing your collarbone. “you tryna drain me tonight?”
you smirked, nails digging into his shoulders. “thought you could keep up, con.”
he flipped you quick, stroking harder and meaner. “keep talking shit then.”
after you both came, legs shaky, he drove you straight back to his spot. the second the door closed he had you bent over the kitchen island, dress still bunched around your waist, fucking you hard and fast. then he carried you to his bed and took his time, going slower, deeper, until the sky started turning gray.
morning came too fast as he dropped you a couple blocks from home, tinted windows hiding everything. your phone was blowing up the whole ride and when he asked about it, you let him know with zero hesitation about the man waiting for you inside.
connie just smirked. “it’s cool. i ain’t the police.”
that was y’all’s routine. late night “you up?” texts. quickies in the bmw when you lied about being out with the girls. drunken words while he had you spread in the passenger seat. “i got a boyfriend, connie… this shit is fucked up.”
he never stopped stroking, just gripped your thighs tighter. “then stop texting me when you wet, ma. or don’t. i’m not complainin’.” he had other women he fucked and didn’t give a single fuck if any of them found out about each other . if they started tweaking he’d call them lame to their face and shut it down quick. “you knew what this was. don’t act stupid now.”
you kept coming back anyway, because you liked the game. liked the perks. liked how he didn’t pretend to be anybody’s boyfriend.
a couple weeks in the guilt finally cracked you. you ended things with your boyfriend for good, no explanation about connie. the same night you were right back in his passenger seat like nothing had changed, heart racing as he smirked at you in the dark. he didn’t ask questions when you told him, just reached over, gripped your thigh, and said, “good. now you can stop pretending you don’t belong over here.”
tonight, the club lights flash across your skin as you straddle his lap in the dim corner of vip. the leather booth sticks to the back of your thighs from the heat. bass vibrates through your body while connie’s hands slide under your dress, gripping your bare ass with zero shame, fingers digging in possessively. his goatee brushes your jaw as he leans in, voice low and rough against your ear.
“so you really single now?” he murmurs, that mean little smirk on his lips. “no more running to answer his texts while my dick still in you?”
you grind down slow against the hard bulge in his jeans, feeling him twitch. the crowded club feels miles away. “yeah,” you breathe, nails dragging up the back of his neck. “and i want this dick whenever i feel like it.”
connie’s grip tightens, pulling you harder against him. “that’s what the fuck i’m talkin’ about.” his thumb slips between your thighs, teasing right where you’re already soaked. “let’s get the fuck out of here before i bend you over this booth.”
back at his place later, the lights are dim and the room smells like weed and sex. he’s got you on your back in his bed, legs wrapped tight around his waist while he strokes deep and steady. you’re being extra nasty tonight — back arching off the mattress, nails raking down his back, and moaning his name every time he hits it right.
connie’s eyes are low and dark, watching you like he’s enjoying the show. in his head the thought hits clear: wanna thank the last man… taught my bitch what she know. might have to send him a thank you card.
he reaches over to the nightstand without missing a stroke, grabs the half smoked blunt, and lights it. takes a long pull, cherry glowing, then leans down and blows the smoke straight into your mouth. you inhale deep, eyes locked on his, letting the haze hit while he keeps fucking you slow and deliberate.
“fuck… that’s it,” he mutters, voice rough, smoke curling between you. “keep takin’ this dick just like that. loud as you want, baby. ain’t nobody here but me.”
you moan into the next kiss, tasting weed and henny on his tongue, hips rolling up to meet every thrust. connie chuckles against your lips and grips your thigh harder, spreading you wider.
“you gettin’ greedy on me already?” he teases, thrusting deeper just to watch your eyes flutter. “good. i like when you act like you can’t get enough.”
a/n: connie with a goatee has been on my mind and i couldn’t help it 😩
Hiiii baby! I’m loving the new works&theme especially cabo and meanie! I was wondering if you could do a birthday fic with Nfl!Ony since it’s my birthday today! - 🧸
OFF SEASON
𐙚!!── ony and his fiancée!
⤷ ❝ {a/n: ofcccc my love & i hope you have the happiest birthday today! nfl! ony is a legendary pull so why not bring him back cause ur birthday wish is my command! 😩} ¡! ❞
⤷ 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈 / 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈
𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
"cheers!"
you and the girls scream as you down the fifth, sixth, or seventh shot tonight? you were keeping count until you believe around your third one. the numbers blurred together, mixing with the bass vibrating through the floor and the neon pink lights reflecting off everyone's faces.
the shot glasses hit the table with a collective clatter and your cousin was already reaching for the bottle for the next round.
"girl, slow down," your sister laughed while grabbing her arm. "we got all night."
"it's her birthday!" your cousin gestured wildly at you while almost knocking over the bottle. "we can do what we want!"
"damn right we can," you slurred while holding up your empty glass like a trophy.
the section ony had rented was huge, it was the entire upper level of the hottest spot in the city; a place that was equal parts restaurant and club, with velvet booths and marble tables. string lights and gold lanterns hung from the ceiling, casting everything in a honeyed glow. the dj was tucked in the corner, spinning a mix of afrobeats and female rap that made your hips move whether you wanted them to or not.
and the food….god, the food.
before the shots started, you'd eaten like a literal queen; oysters on a bed of ice, truffle pasta that cost more than your first car, a charcuterie board the size of your torso, and mini sliders that you'd demolished in three bites. ony had pre ordered everything and the waiters kept bringing out plates you didn't even remember asking for.
but that was hours ago, now it was just bottles on the table, ice melting in buckets, and the faint smell of hookah smoke curling toward the ceiling.
you leaned back against the velvet couch, your light pink mini dress shifting with you as the gold chain across your bare back is cool against your skin. your curls were wild now from hours of dancing and the humidity had them expanding into a cloud around your face. gold cuffs still glinted at your ears and your ring caught the neon lights every time you moved your hand, which was often, because you couldn't stop looking at it.
"let me see it again," your friend demanded while crawling across the couch on her knees.
you held out your hand like a queen presenting her favorite gem. she grabbed your wrist, pulling your ring finger toward the light.
"lawd," she breathed. "it look different every time i see it."
"that's because the lighting keep changing," your sister pointed out.
"girl…don't ruin the magic."
weeks before your birthday, ony had proposed to you at the stadium during the halftime of one of his games. the way he had dropped to one knee in front of fifty thousand people and made you cry so hard you forgot how to speak.
you still watched the video sometimes. late at night, when he was asleep beside you, his arm thrown over your waist, and his breath warm on your neck. you'd pull up the clips on your phone to see the ones that had gone viral, the ones your cousins had sent, even the ones from angles you didn't know existed.
and you'd watch yourself say yes over and over again because it still didn't feel real. but the rock on your finger? that felt real and heavy.
"earth to birthday girl." your friend yells as she waves a hand in front of your face. "you left us again."
"sorry." you blinked while shaking your head. "just thinking."
"about that man, huh?" your cousin said while grinning.
"always about him."
"disgusting. i love it."
"okay, okay," your friend said while clapping her hands to get everyone's attention. "we need to talk about the comments recentlyyyy."
you groaned while throwing your head back against the couch. "do we have to?"
"yes!" your cousin yells while pulling out her phone, already scrolling. "people are obsessed with you. look–" she turned the screen toward you.
it was a post from some sports blog. a picture of you and ony at a game last week— you in his jersey number, him with his arm around your waist, and both of you laughing at something off camera. the caption read: "onyankopon's fiancée continues to steal hearts. who is she?"
"who is she?" your sister read aloud while scoffing. "she's right there, with a name."
"they don't care about your name," your cousin says, echoing her own words from earlier. "they care about the ring."
you held up your hand again while watching the diamond catch the pink neon lights. "can you blame them?"
"no," all three of them said in unison.
after your little proposal debrief, the shots kept coming. someone ordered a round of something blue that tasted like candy and burned like hell. your cousin eventually pulled you up off the couch because your song was playing and suddenly you were shaking ass.
the vip section wasn't huge but it was big enough. your bare feet (you'd kicked your heels off somewhere around shot four) moved across the cool floor, arms raised, curls bouncing, and the gold chain on your back catching the light with every bounce.
your cousin joined you, then your friend, finally your sister was there too, and the four of you were a tangle of limbs and laughter, dancing on each other until you were dizzy.
"this is the best birthday ever!" your cousin shouted over the music.
eventually, you collapsed back onto the couch, chest heaving and dress riding up just a little. you didn't bother pulling it down cause everyone here was family.
"i need water," you announced.
"you need more shots," your friend countered.
"i need both."
your sister flagged down a waiter who looked like he'd been waiting for an excuse to come over and ordered a round of waters and another bottle of something expensive.
"put it on the fiancée’s tab," she added and the waiter nodded like he already knew because of course he knew. ony had probably tipped him a month's rent to make sure you were taken care of.
"speaking of ony," your sister said while sliding closer to you on the couch, "when is he getting here?"
you glanced at your phone that read 1:47 am. he'd texted you an hour ago, “you good?", and you'd replied with a blurry photo of you and your girls making kissy faces at the camera.
come through
bring your friends.
👀
"soon," you said while grinning. "i told him to bring the guys."
your friends eyebrows shot up. "i thought this was girls night?"
"it was but i miss my man." you shrugged, unashamed. "and i needed an excuse to see him without making y'all feel like third wheels."
"and you still made us the third wheels?" your cousin asked while laughing.
"no, i made them the third wheels. now y'all can focus on jean and them."
"you're so calculating," your friend said but she was already reaching for her compact mirror.
"i'm considerate. there's a difference boo."
a couple minutes later your phone buzzed and you snatched it up so fast your cousin laughed.
outside. coming up.
finally.
you miss me?
maybe.
you drunk?
maybe.
send a pic.
you held up your phone and angled it downward so your body was in the frame and snapped a quick photo— you sitting pretty on the velvet seats, dress hitched up on your thighs, curls wild, and ring catching the light. your smile was drunk and happy as you tried your best to get a steady picture.
hurry up.
damn. on my way.
you tossed your phone on the couch, grabbed the nearest shot glass and downed it.
"he's coming," you announced.
the table erupted.
"finally."
“where's my lip gloss?"
"connie better be with him. im getting us out the trenches tonight."
"you're so weird."
"and you're so single. let me live."
you laughed while watching your girls scramble to reapply gloss, fluff their hair, and fix their dresses. they pretended not to care but you saw the way your sister checked her reflection in a spoon and the way your friend suddenly cared about the arrangement of bottles on the table.
you just sat back, heart racing at the thought of your man coming and you couldn't wait to feel his arms around you.
a hour later, the elevator dinged as the doors slid open and there he was.
ony stepped out first and his eyes found you immediately, his eyes scanning the room before landing on your face. behind him came eren, jean, connie, and some teammates you recognized but couldn't name in your drunken state.
the energy in the room shifted as ony crossed to you in six long strides, ignoring everyone else, and pulling you off the couch into his arms.
"hey, mama," he murmured against your hair.
"you took forever," you mumbled as you melted into his chest.
"had to drag these fools out the studio. eren was locked in."
"eren can wait."
"he said the same thing about you."
you rolled your eyes as you pulled back just enough to look at him, your hands sliding up his chest to rest on his shoulders. his eyes dragged over your face at your wild curls, your smudged lip gloss, and the drunken slant of your smile.
"you look good," he said.
"i look drunk."
"ain’t no difference."
he kissed you while connie whistled and someone yelled "get a room" and you know that was definitely jean but you didn't care.
you had your man. you had your girls. you had the whole city at your feet and a ring on your finger during a birthday night you'd never forget.
and when ony pulled back, breathless and smiling, he looked at you like you were the only person in the room.
"happy birthday, mama," he said softly.
"thank you for coming," you replied.
"ain't nowhere else i'd rather be."
you weren't sure exactly when you'd ended up in ony's lap. one minute you were standing and leaning against the couch while your cousin poured another round. the next, ony had grabbed your waist, pulled you down onto his thighs, and wrapped an arm around your stomach to keep you from sliding off.
"you 'bout to fall," he murmured in your ear, his breath warm against your neck.
"i am not," you slurred, even as your body sagged against his chest.
"mmhm."
his hand splayed across your bare back and you shivered, pressing closer. the vip section spun lazily around you, pink and gold lights blurring at the edges. your girls were scattered across the couches now, deep in conversation with the guys.
and you? you were exactly where you wanted to be.
"another shot!" your friend appeared in front of you, holding out a glass. "for the birthday girl!" you reached for it but your hand wobbled and ony plucked it out of the air before you could grab it.
"nah," he said, tossing it back himself. "she done."
"ony–" you started to protest but he was already setting the glass on the table.
"you can barely sit up straight, mama. you ain't takin' no more shots."
"i'm fine–"
"you're drunk." he kissed your temple, soft and firm. "and you're gonna thank me tomorrow."
you wanted to argue but your body betrayed you as you melted further into his chest. his arms tightened around you and you sighed, your head falling back against his shoulder.
"fine," you mumbled. "but you gotta take the rest of 'em for me."
"already planned on it."
and he did.
every time one of your cousins came over with a shot, ony took it. every time someone shouted "birthday girl!" and raised a glass, ony drank it. he didn't even flinch, just tossed them back one after another, his chest rumbling with low laughter every time you whined about it.
"you're gonna be so drunk," you said, watching him down another.
"someone gotta be." he set the glass down while wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "can't have you out here actin' up."
"i don't act up."
"you literally tried to climb on the table ten minutes ago."
"i was dancing."
"you were struggling."
you pouted but he just kissed the pout off your lips and you forgot what you were mad about.
somewhere around 2:30, food appeared.
this was drunk food. wings, loaded fries, and mozzarella sticks that stretched for miles when you bit into them. ony must have ordered it at some point because he was the only one coherent enough to use a phone.
"eat," he said while pressing a fry to your lips.
you took a bite, chewing slowly, your eyes half closed.
"'s good," you mumbled.
"eat another one."
"you eat another one."
he shook his head but he was smiling and he fed you three more fries before you turned your face away.
" 'm full."
"you ate like five fries."
" 'm full."
he sighed, setting the plate aside, and pulled you closer. "you impossible."
"you love it."
"unfortunately."
the night started winding down around 3.
your girls were flagging as your sister was arguing with jean about something neither of them would remember tomorrow and your cousin taking mirror selfies with connie's phone because hers had died.
you were barely awake as your face pressed into ony's neck, your breath warm against his skin.
"i'm ready to go," you whispered.
he turned his head as his lips brushed against your forehead. "yeah?"
"mmhm." you nuzzled closer, your nose grazing his jaw. "carry me?"
he laughed low, his chest vibrating under you. "you want me to carry you out?"
"please." you kissed his neck lazily, your lips dragging against his skin. "and grab my heels, they my favorite."
"which ones are those?"
"the ones i was wearin'. under the table."
he looked down and your bare feet were dangling over his thigh, your gold heels kicked somewhere beneath the velvet couch.
"those?"
"those." you kissed his neck again, slower this time. "please, baby."
he exhaled as he muttered, "you tryna kill me,"
"no." you kissed his jaw. "just tryna go home."
he stood up with you wrapped around him like a koala. your legs hooked around his waist, your arms looped around his neck, and your face buried in the crook of his shoulder. he bent down one handed and scooped your heels off the floor, dangling them from his fingers.
"got 'em," he said.
"you're the best," you mumbled into his neck.
"i know."
your girls called out goodbyes as he carried you toward the elevator and shouting "text me when you get home!" you lifted one hand in a lazy wave, your ring catching the light one last time.
the elevator doors closed, muffling the music, and suddenly it was just the two of you.
"you had fun?" he asked, shifting you higher on his hip.
"the most fun." you kissed his neck again, right below his ear, where his cologne was strongest. "thank you for this."
"didn't do nothin'."
"you rented out a whole club."
"that's just money." the elevator dinged as the doors opened to the parking garage. "you happy. that's what matters."
the cool night air hit you the second he stepped outside. ony’s driver had the blacked out suv waiting at the curb. he opened the door for you as you still held onto him, helping you get in because your legs were a unsteady from all those shots. the second the door shut behind him, the world outside disappeared.
it was just the two of you in the dim glow of the interior lights.
“come here, baby.” his voice had dropped that octave that always made you wet. he pulled you across the seat until you were straddling his lap, your dress bunching up around your thighs. his big hands slid up the backs of your legs, squeezing your ass possessively.
“fuck… you really mine now, huh?” he kissed your neck, then your jaw, then your mouth and he was tasting the candy blue shots still on your tongue. “my fiancée. my wife to be. walking around with that ring on your finger while you twerk to city girls. you know what that does to me?”
you whimpered as one of his hands slipped between your thighs, pushing your lace thong to the side. two thick fingers dragging through your already soaked folds.
“shit, you wet as hell,” he groaned, circling your clit with the pads of his fingers before pushing both digits inside you in one smooth stroke. “this pussy been waiting for me all night?”
your head fell back, a broken moan slipping out as he started pumping his fingers, curling them just right against that spot that made your toes curl. the wet sounds filled the backseat, obscene and loud.
“yes–ony… fuck–”
“that’s right. say my name, baby. my pretty baby.” he sucked on your neck, adding a third finger and stretching you open while his thumb worked your clit. “you’re gonna be my wife. carrying my last name. walking around with my ring and my baby in you one day. and you still out here acting like the baddest in the club. you know how proud that shit makes me?”
your hips rolled down onto his hand, chasing the pleasure as it built fast and hot. the driver was separated by the partition, but you didn’t even care if he could hear you moaning like a slut for your man.
ony pulled his fingers out suddenly, making you whine at the loss. he smirked, bringing them to his mouth to taste you while he used his other hand to free himself from his pants. his dick was hard, thick, and leaking for you.
“turn around for me. hands on the seat.”
you obeyed, facing the front, knees on the leather as he pushed your dress up over your ass. he didn’t even pull your thong all the way off, just yanked it to the side again before lining himself up and sinking into you in one long thrust.
“fuuuck, baby,” he groaned, gripping your hips tight. “so tight and wet. this my pussy, right?”
“yes- yours,” you gasped, pushing back on him.
he started fucking you deep, one hand sliding up your back to grab the gold chain like a leash while the other reached around to rub your clit. the car rocked with every thrust, the windows already fogging up.
“look at you,” he praised, voice strained with pleasure. “my fiancée taking this dick so good in the backseat like a nasty little slut. after all them shots and dancing… still creaming all over me. that’s why i’m marrying you. you perfect for me.”
your orgasm hit you hard as your vision blurred. your thighs shaking and moaning his name loud enough that your throat went raw. ony fucked you through it, then pulled out and flipped you onto your back, spreading your legs wide before sliding back in.
he leaned down, forehead against yours, eyes locked on you as he stroked deep and slow.
“i love you,” he breathed between thrusts. “my beautiful baby. my wife. gonna give you everything. this dick. this ring. my last name. everything.”
you came again with his name on your lips, nails digging into his back. ony followed right after, burying himself deep and groaning as he filled you up, hips stuttering against yours.
he stayed inside you for a long moment, kissing you soft and lazy, thumb stroking the diamond on your finger again.
“best birthday ever?” he asked, smiling against your mouth.
you laughed breathlessly, still pulsing around him. “best birthday ever.”
“Baby, come on. Don’t do this to me right now.” He groans as your hands slide down his chest. “I haven’t done anything yet.” You say sweetly. He bites down into his bottom lip as his eyes roll back at the gentle feeling of your hands roaming his entire body. “Baby please.” He begs. “We have to meet your parents in like 20 minutes.” He tries his best to reason with you but lust crowds your brain. He knew he shouldn’t have planned meeting your folks during your ovulation period. But leave it to him to not check your schedule beforehand. Now, he is suffering from the consequences of that. “You smell so fucking good.” You say as your nose presses against his neck. He felt his resolve crumbling with every touch, every breath, every gaze. He licks at his lips, swallowing heavy as he forces himself to pull away from you. “Dinner first, okay. Then you can have me. Anyway you want. But I can’t meet your parents right after fucking you.” He expresses. You pout but finally relent. “Fine.” You say with a smirk. “But when we get home, you better be ready.” You say before walking out the door. He releases a breath as he watches you walk away, mentally preparing himself for what’s to come when he gets home.
Hey guys. I’m back lol. Been some SHIT but I miss writing so here’s a little sum sum for you. Match it to your faves. Yall know I love me some Ony, Enjin, Gojo, and Choso. Full fics loading😘
Summary: Rule #1 on Zoom, always turn your mic off!😏
After hearing Michael’s quick little moan in that video, I had to write something. Also based on this request.
“How long are these interviews supposed to take again?” You ask Michael, as you sit across from him on the couch in his office.
With the recent release of Sinners, the interviews for press were constant. Luckily for you and Michael, today was one of those rare interview days when he could do them from home in the comfort of his office.
You had the day off and you missed your man, so you opted to sit in his office while he worked. This wasn’t an unusual routine for either of you. You and Michael often worked together in his office. The simultaneous clacking of your keyboards, along with just being in each other’s presence was comforting.
Today, however, you’d have to wait for Michael to complete his interviews before you could truly spend time together. Also unfortunately, today was just one of those days when you were really horny.
It also doesn’t help that Michael is dressed in that black t-shirt that contours to every muscle on his body. He don a pair of sweatpants to keep himself comfortable during the interview.
It’s not helping the wetness between your legs because you know that he’s free balling beneath the sweatpants. You’re practically hypnotized watching his print through the pants.
“This is the last one. It’ll be about thirty minutes,” Michael responds, leaning back in the chair as he casually tosses up the fidget toy.
He subtly eyes his Naruto hoodie that adorns your frame, along with the shorts that hug your thighs. He clears his throat and adjusts himself discreetly.
The last thing he needs is to be hard during this interview.
“And then we’ll spend time together?”
Michael catches the needy look on your face, “Yeah, baby. I’m all yours once this interview is over. We can do whatever you want.”
“Okay baby!” You chirp before settling back on the couch. You slide your book over to you and lay back to start reading it. Michael eyes lock on your bare legs. He clocks the anklet dangling from your anklet with his initials on it.
For a moment, he allows himself to imagine the sight of the anklet as it dangles from his shoulder. He thinks back to a few nights when he had your legs over his shoulders as he feasted on you. He can still remember the chill from the anklet and the feel of your hands in his hair.
His phone dinging from the desk reminds him of the upcoming interview. He clicks on the interview link before sitting up in his chair. Michael turns the camera on as he waits for the interview to start.
Soon, the interview starts as Ryan, Wumni, Miles, Jayme, and Delroy also appear on the screen. Michael chuckles to himself because he can tell that they all had the same idea for keeping it casual.
“Hey everyone, it’s nice to have you all here today. Thank you so much for your time,” the interviewer greets with much enthusiasm.
Michael dons a wide smile as he waits for the interview to begin her questions. He peeks off the side to look at you, only to notice that you’ve changed positions while reading.
You now lay on your front, casually moving your feet in the air. Michael’s eyes zero in on your backside, specifically where he can see that your shorts have hiked up.
He swallows before directing his attention back to the screen.
“Question for you Michael, how would say that all of your roles before this have prepared you to play twins?”
“I would say that all of my previous roles have taught me discipline and made me lean into creativity a lot more. I think that playing twins on screen, you kind of want to tweak them to make them their own separate entities. Like with Creed, it was the first time that I had to transform my body, so I think with playing Smoke and Stack, it helped to inform my choices on how I wanted to shape my body and move around as those characters.”
The interviewer hums.
The interview continues to go on with additional questions being asked to different cast members.
It turns out that you picked the wrong book to read. You were in your romance era of reading, so you’d trusted your homegirls in your book club with their next choice of book. Your friend had mentioned that the book was spicy, but you weren’t expecting it to heat up this early.
You clench your thighs as your clit throbs from reading the steamy scene. To Michael, it looks like you’re adjusting your position, but actually, your shorts have pressed against your center and you have to control the moan from the stimulation that the fabric is giving you.
You get to a specific part where the female lead is giving a blowjob to the male lead in the bathroom. You think back to having Michael’s dick in your mouth. Your mouth waters when you think of the heavy weight against your tongue and the taste of his cum hitting your taste buds.
The idea hits your brain immediately. There might as well be a light bulb shining brightly above your head. You close the book before you can abandon the idea.
You stand from the couch before dropping to your knees. You start crawling across the floor until you reach Michael’s desk. He’s so engrossed in the interview that he doesn’t notice you until you brush against his leg. He jumps before disguising the action like he’s adjusting in the chair.
You move between his legs until you’re sitting pretty between them. With the height of the desk, it hides the fact that you’re sitting there.
Michael tenses as you move forward and lay your head on his thigh. He tries to stop your hand as you grip him through the sweats. You smile mischievously at him as you fully stick your hand in the sweats to take his dick out.
“So pretty,” you whisper to yourself.
Michael’s mushroom tip is already leaking the pearlescent liquid that contrasts against his brown skin. You spit in your hand before moving it to wrap around Michael’s length again. You move your hand up until you’re firmly grasping the tip.
Michael tries to control his breath as his pleasure starts to spike. For a few minutes, you casually jerk him off like you’re playing with a toy.
But you are. He’s your favorite toy, and fortunately for you, you are allowed to put this one in your mouth.
Michael covers up a moan with a cough as your lips fully envelope him. You pull back to lap at his tip like it’s a lollipop. You allow a large glob of spit to leave your mouth as it trails over Michael’s length. You slurp the spit back into your mouth before repeating the process.
You’re killing Michael. He tries to keep his cool as he answers questions dutifully. When he looks down again, you’re tapping his dick against your tongue while looking up at him.
“Yeah..like I was saying….um..I’m sorry, what was the question again?” Michael asks, his mind foggy with lust.
Everyone chuckles, but they’re completely oblivious to you taking the man apart under the desk. It’s at that moment that you choose to fully submerge your mouth on Michael’s dick. Your nose presses against his pubic hairs as you breathe him in.
There’s faint sounds of your throat catch on the microphone, but everyone’s professional enough not to comment. Michael still yours head as he holds you flush to him. You breathe through your nose as you relax at the feel of him in your throat.
Spit collects in your mouth and begins to leak out of sides as Michael continues answering the question. He keeps his voice calm, but wavers at the end when you swallow around him.
He turns the mic off as the interviewer asks Delroy the next question. He releases you as you move back up to breathe. A long, thin line of salive connects your lips to him.
He briefly glances down at his phone as it buzzes.
Coog
You good?
Michael
I’m straight..
Coog
So what was that noise?🙂
….Y’all nasty af man💀
You choose that exact moment to pull his balls out of the sweatpants to start mouthing at them. You suck on them as you jerk him off.
Your tongue slides up until you fully envelope him down your throat again. Michael checks the mic to ensure that it’s muted as you fully start sucking him. You hallow your cheeks and moan lowly.
He can feel the rising of his orgasm in the pitt of his stomach. He glances down at you and you’re honestly lost in your own world as you throat him. It only takes one more gag before he’s exploding into your throat.
Michael’s abs and thighs clench as pleasure radiates through his body. He feels the orgasm in his toes. He closes his eyes briefly before opening them again.
Spurts of his cum hit your tongue and the back of your throat. It makes you wetter because it’s one of your favorite treats. Michael feels like he could cry as you swish his cum around in your mouth with his length still there. You lick the remnants of his cum from him as you release him with a soft pop.
“And that was our last question. Thank you all so much for being here today. It’s truly been an honor. Congratulations on the success of the movie!”
Michael unmutes the microphone as he thanks the interviewer before he leaves the meeting.
Immediately, he slides the chair back to look at you in surprise.
You shrug your shoulders, “What? I needed something in my mouth.”
𝒮𝑌𝒩𝒪𝒫𝒮𝐼𝒮 ⨾ no matter how vast his patience, you always manage to find the end of it. but suguru has the sweetest way of breaking a brat.
𝒞𝒪𝒩𝒯𝒜𝐼𝒩𝒮 ⨾ ( 3.5k+ ) words of . . . nsfw, getō suguru x bratty!reader ( hyperfeminine & black coded ), curse-free au, set in modern japan ( may 2018 ), established relationship, size difference, soft dom / brat tamer sugu ( the duality of man lol ), mentions of cunnilingus & fingering, light slapping / clit slapping, folded missionary, tummy bulge, mating press, overstimulation, eventual creampie, use of pet names ( e.g. papa, baby, sweetness, princess, etc. ), explicit language, lowercase intended, minors shoo!
𝓂𝓎 𝓁ℴ𝓋ℯ 𝓁ℯ𝓉𝓉ℯ𝓇.ᐟ ⸻ at long last, i’m posting my first suguru fic ever >.< my love, my muse, my gorgeous male wife!!! i think about this man relentlessly, and the best way to channel it is by pouring my heart into this nasty little piece of work for him (♡ˊ͈ ꒳ ˋ͈) this is only the beginning of many more getō fics to come! now please enjoy, and thank you so much for reading! ❤︎
𝐼𝒩𝒮𝑃𝒪 𝑇𝑅𝒜𝒞𝒦.ᐟ ⨾ sell me candy, rihanna ⨾ right and a wrong way, keith sweat ⨾ whatever you want, tony! toni! toné! ⨾ the town, the weeknd
getō suguru’s universe begins and ends with his princess — his sole, decadent fixation. for him, breathing is simply a rhythm meant to keep him alive long enough to spoil you. he moves through the world guided by one sweet, all-consuming obsession: you.
his absolute conviction is that his entire existence was designed to anticipate and deliver your every need — like how he instinctively knows when your spirit yearns to be held, protected . . . or pleased.
there’s this warm gravity in the way he gathers you in his arms; all thick and firm and devastatingly strong. every peak of muscle is concealed beneath the loose, baggy knit of his oversized sweater as his forearms fold completely around your middle.
suguru catches onto all of it, tracking every unvoiced desire that passes through your mind — the way you want your pillowy lips kissed, your waist caressed, your ass grabbed and kneaded in his big, wide palms. it’s all confessed in how you adorably shift, wordlessly nuzzling further into the crevice of his solid chest. he smells of rich sandalwood, smoky traditional incense, and the dewdrops of light spring rain.
it’s an all-day, everyday luxury, being loved by a man who predicts your every want. whenever you ramble about needing a new piece for your wardrobe, he listens with a quiet, indulgent smile before grabbing his keys to start the car for the mall. the very second the quiet rumble of your stomach catches his attention, he’s already drifting into the kitchen, gathering ingredients to whip up a rich, creamy bowl of your favorite white pasta.
he’s the truest provider, down to the very marrow of his bones. even when — especially when — ovulation turns into a throbbing, unbearable ache, and you find yourself craving him more than you can possibly bear, he never fails to take perfect care of you.
suguru stretches you out, sliding in with the circumference of two thick fingers that move in a slow, sweetly maddening deliberation. the sensation builds until he dives and buries his pretty face between your plush thighs, suckling tenderly while you gasp out shakily strung syllables that are meant to shape his name.
but filling you up with sweetness only makes you reckless, turning your soft satisfaction into attitude, entitlement, appetite — until you completely forget where his indulgence ends and his authority begins.
that’s why, even with such a patient, nurturing heart, suguru can be so, so mean when he chooses to be. or perhaps, it’s just that you’re . . . too fucking brattish.
it’s an addictive cycle, the way you endlessly push your luck — becoming greedy with what he gives, cumming without permission, and breathlessly demanding more. he knows exactly when that lack of inhibition needs to be nipped in the bud, and he’s never afraid to resort to a little discipline. suguru loves to spoil you, but he thrives just as much on absolute control.
the second you get too pushy, you show him that he’s spoiled his princess far too much. it’s a rather advantageous mistake, because the sudden, smoky flash of deep indigo in his narrow eyes tells you he’s more than ready to remind you exactly who you belong to. his sweet affection shifts instantly into something darker, so thick and inescapable. he never raises his voice, no — he simply needs to apply the right amount of unyielding pressure:
and it comes in the form of a mean tug at the pretty spirals of your curls. his thick fingers entwine with the pattern, mercilessly tilting your head back to claim your mouth in a deep, bruising kiss, swapping spit until your defiance melts completely on your tongue.
“you're getting a little too bratty for your own good, sweetheart,” he hums against your swollen lips, tugging a little harder on the bunched root at the soft texture of your hair with one large hand, while the other moves up to meltingly squeeze your puffed, pouting cheeks.
to that, you whine, peering up at him from the helpless angle he’s got your head tilted in. your vision swims with nothing but him, imposing and broad like that of a dark-winged angel. you’re quick to try and refute him, tapered pearly-pink nails sinking desperately into the thick, dense meat of his biceps.
“mmph, shuguru! —am not!”
“you are.”
the heavy warmth of his palm meets your cheek in a firm, deliberate pat — a sudden reminder of who you belong to. it isn't meant to hurt, it never is, but it’s just enough to shock the breath right out of your lungs. a delicious pulse instantly rushes straight to your pooling cunt, leaving you with shifting thighs and an aching throb.
“just . . . listen to me.” he watches with a low, satisfied hum as your big, glimmering pupils instantly dilate from the impact, before his large thumb sweeps slowly over your skin to stroke the very cheek he just pawed.
“open up.” suguru claims you without warning, his mouth dropping back down to steep your lips in a deep, wet, melting lock. the slather of his pink muscle slides heavily between them, effortlessly parting you to pry out every ounce of your sweetness. he tongues you open and swallows your mindless sounds, absorbing every sugary, breathless whimper like this one kiss is his most prized indulgence.
when you finally break away in search of oxygen and he leans in to lick after you, a thin, glistening thread of spit lingers between your lips, stretching and snapping as he shifts his broad frame over yours.
suguru follows up with a deft, slow yank, peeling down your gossamer-thin, cotton-candy pink leggings; exposing the lush, supple curve of your round butt to the heavy warmth of his large palm. it connects with a resounding smack, one that brings about his serene, pearly grin, followed by a couple of firm, melting slaps directly over the wettening spot of your mesh, frill-adorned panties whenever you start to writhe too much for his liking.
“keep still for sugu. m’kay, princess?” he murmurs sweetly against your neck, keeping your clothed, needy clit entirely trapped beneath the relentless patter of the thick span of his splayed fingers. he lingers there for a torturous second, letting the friction build a warm, melting pool that completely soaks into your panties. every sweet tap of contact sends a sharp yet delicious ache straight to your core, holding you entirely captive until the exact moment he abandons all that remains of his faux restraint — he doesn’t like it when you call it that. though, you know he’ll end up devouring you regardless.
with an eager, breathless haste, he strips away the last of your barriers — the threaded seam of your creamy-pink camisole, your lacy little panties, his dense fall sweater — until not a thing remains. his irises, dark and orchid-purple, melt into a sweet softness as they drink in every rich, delectable bare curve of your warm brown skin. he scoops you into the comforting span of his steady hands, savoring how incredibly soft and perfectly molded you feel against him.
suguru dips low, lower, until the inky silk of his long black hair spills free from its loose half-bun; cascading over his broad shoulders as he bends his head to bury himself in the crook of your neck. the fine, glossy midnight strands drape down like a cool wave against your feverish skin, tickling mercilessly against the sensitive line of your exposed jugular.
he then languidly takes hold of himself, fingers gliding with every stroke to the base, groaning lowly at his own lazy touch. you let out a soft, appreciative mewl as you watch him. the heavy, teasing tap of the crown of his bobbing cock is dropped right over your pearly bud. warmth and slick spreads he rests the weighty underside upon your clit, even as it pulses for him.
“mm, you're so beautiful, baby . . . let papa look at you,” he gives you the calm flash of his slow, familiarly cattish smile, “i wanna take care of every little thing you need.”
with a final, bone-deep push, suguru delivers a sweeping thrust that melts right through you, driving all the way to your sticky hilt. he tilts his strong hips at just the right angle, plunging deeper into your squelching walls. a saccharine, breathless sound escapes you once he’s successfully filled every last inch of you with dick. stretched so nicely by the intrusion, you rake your precisely filed french tips down the cream-smooth expanse of his broad back.
he settles inside your warmth and rests perfectly still, cock throbbing softly while your trembling thighs bracket the tapered slope of his waist. his sharp violet eyes roll back at the delicious, fluttering squeeze you make around the girth of him.
“mm, s-suguruuu,” a syrupy plea drips from you, knowing he drinks up the sweet sound of your begging. “p—please move, papa . . . you promised you’d make me cum—”
“god, i spoil you too much.” a heavy, almost helpless sigh breaks out of him just before he surrenders completely to your successful pleading. he intended to discipline you, he truly did — but when you're underneath him like this, pussy wrapping around his cock so deliciously tight, staring up at him with expectant glossy eyes and milky-pink gloss-pouted lips, your breasts swaying as your chest heaves from the lingering burn of having to swallow every thick inch of him . . . getō can no longer help himself.
and so, he establishes a relentless rhythm that steals the breath straight from your lungs. every firm drive of his hips echoes densely throughout the atmosphere, like that of a warm heartbeat thump, thump, thumping hard enough to dissolve you entirely against the soft fibres of the cottony futon.
“oh, s-suguru, you're sooo — fucking big,” you coo against the strained cords of his neck, peering down through tear-blurred lashes to watch the thick, heavy shape of him moving so visibly against the pudge of your lower belly. “mmfuck, you feel so good, it's so much . . . l—look, papa, you’re making a mess of meee . . .”
an intoxicating shade of midnight floods his violet eyes, smogged into a blown-out haze of amethyst. tracking your tear-blurred gaze, getō doesn't only look — he reaches down with a heavy, calloused hand, pressing its warmth onto your skin until the width of it covers your stomach, his broad palm flattening right against the thick swell of his own intrusion moving beneath his fingers.
“fuck. fuck, baby . . .” suguru rasps, a gravelly vibration that rolls from the depths of his chest straight against the delicate clavicle of your collarbone. his fingers splay wide, mapping out the delicious way your skin stretches to accommodate him.
“look how deep I am inside you . . .” his thumb traces the distinct swell under your skin. “I can feel it — god, I can feel it. you’re taking every inch of me so well, sweetness . . .”
irregardless to his sugary words of praise, suguru is malicious in the way that he doesn’t allow you even a mere second to gather your breath before his hips tilt sharply, plunging into you with a new, utterly ruthless tempo. such a shoving grind has the swell of his twitching balls pressed completely flush at your helplessly tight pussy until he’s bottomed out against the dripping hole of your slit.
the sheer friction of him sliding all the way in makes your mind fracture into pure, sizzling white noise. his large hands move from your stomach to grip around the soft span your full thighs, bruisingly tight, pinning them right back against your chest to open you up even wider, forcing you into a position where you have no choice but to take him to the absolute hilt as he pounds you sore.
“you want me to fill you up? hmm, sweetness?” he murmurs, his voice a velvety, breathless growl that bleeds straight into your lips as his hair-dusted pelvis knocks against your sensitive bud. his fingers creep down to rub at it, quick and pressured just the way you like, and he revels in the sweet pitch of your feeble scream. “then stay just like this for me. don’t you dare run from it."
the heavy grind of his hips dissolves into a dizzying, frantic pace, the wet friction of your bodies meeting echoing ever so lewdly through the otherwise quiet room as the white quilt of his floor-mattress bunches up beneath you. getō’s chest heaves, his firm peaked nipples brushing the pebbling nerves of your own sensitive ones, breasts full and smushed against the solid wall of him; no matter how your body instinctively flinches from the intensity of the feeling.
he finds sanctuary in the soft slope of your neck, burying his face into the crook of it; inhaling the sweet, sweat-slick scent of your kiss-peppered skin. he can feel the impending pleasure wash over you — your writhing body gradually tensing to a tight, trembling coil beneath the sheet of his own weight.
“sugu—ah, s-suguru, i’m gonna . . !” you cry out, and the fractured wail shoots straight to his aching cock as he fucks you through the approaching high of it. you claw blindly at his broad shoulders, leaving shallow crescents in the smooth skin while your vision spots into a teetering suguru-shaped blur.
the rhythm grows unrefined as his thrusts turn heavier, sloppier, sliding with a slick, heavy nudge of his fat mauve tip to your tender cervix that completely overstimulates your senses. every wet, desperate push into your gushing cunt sparks a current of blinding electricity straight to the nerve-endings of your poor little cockdrunk brain.
your legs tremble uncontrollably where he’s got them pushed up as you drown in the splitting fullness of him. one more pound is enough. a broken, pitched wail is pulled straight from your lungs as your release finally hits — a sweet, crashing wave of a climax that ripples through every nerve of your strung body.
“mm—oh! ohhh, god, suguru,” a futile sob escapes you, your breath coming in shallow, desperate hitches; all as your sadist of a boyfriend eases his full, calculated weight down upon you. he keeps the flat of his palms pressed firmly against the backs of your thighs, ensuring your tautly folded legs remain secure at your buzzing-hot ears as you gaze up at the ethereal sight of him.
“gonna cum, princess,” he grits out a low, strained warning. you brace yourself for the splash of a thick load, eager for the warmth of his seed to claim you completely from the inside out; instead, amidst the blended haze of your orgasm and anticipation alike — suguru pulls out, drawing back enough to jerk his hard cock in an open palm, swirling hastily over the tip until thick ribbons of his cum spurt onto your soft breasts, trembling abdomen and spread thighs — everywhere except for the one place you wanted him.
“suguruuu . . .” you whine, tears threatening to spill over your damp lashline. “w—why’d you pull out?” your sniffle almost has him regret it. “wanted you to fill me up s-so bad . . ugh, you’re always so mean to me . . .” you continue to whimper, cry, ball up your fists to thwack against his chest, all of the above — all the while asking how he could be so, so, mean.
getō strokes himself casually, his eyes dark as he watches you tremble on the futon. “mean, huh?” he echoes in amusement. the audacious man kneeling before you can only bring himself to laugh. peering down through his long black hair, his voice drops to a velvety rasp.
“I was nice enough to let you cum.” he murmurs, stroking down his throbbing shaft before lining the head of his cock with your terribly empty hole. he groans at the sight of you, spread and dripping for him, all as he readies himself to push right back inside your welcoming embrace.
“maybe you’ll earn mine, sweet girl. only if you’re good this time.”
a breathless hiss escapes him the exact second he reunites with the sweet constriction of your walls; the snug intensity of your cunt hugging every pulsing inch of him without even the grace of a mere refractory period.
there’s absolutely no downtime to save either of you from your ebbing orgasms — not when suguru drags you right into another staggering round that leaves both of your bodies trembling uncontrollably. it's pure, mutual overstimulation from the very first sink he made back into you, and he was more than aware that every movement after would be unbearable.
his sculpted, porcelain body shudders violently against yours, his breath coming in ragged grunts into the soft, damp, curling edges of your woven hair. broken sounds draw from your lips, and his residual cum spattered onto your chest smears beneath your dainty hands as you knead your own boobs restlessly, head thrown back while you shake beneath him. suguru trembles with every thrust, rendered just as undone, because he knows damn well that neither one of you are bound to last any more than the next few seconds that follow.
“c—can’t . . nooo, sugu — i can’t t-take it,”
catching wind of you mewling his name so sweetly is what brings him to the absolute brink. getō, in all his entirety, goes completely rigid, the muscles in his broad back locking up like stone as he delivers one, two, three more deep, devastating thrusts that bottom out entirely against the seam of your sopping pussy, stretching you so beautifully that the airiest moan is pulled straight from the depths your lungs.
trapping you beneath the magnificent alabaster of his firm chest, his strong arms, his encompassing love, he pins your writhing hips hard against his own, binding you to him; all while the very universe narrows down to the sweet, awaited moment he finally groans your name aloud and spills over inside of you.
“hold it for me,” he gasps against your sweat-warmed skin, his voice a ruined, trembling whisper as his pulse drums erratically within the hollow canal his gauged ears. he catches hold of your face once more, wearily squeezing your cheeks between the large pads of his fingers as to press your lips into the perfect, sugar-pouted shape for him to kiss.
a low groan is pulled from him as his mouth slants over yours, grinding his hips deep and fucking you full of his warm, syrupy cum with every slick, desperate suck and lick made against your tongue.
"look at me, baby . . gave you what y’wanted — hnngh, t-take it all, right now . . .”
he said you’d have to be good — yet you know deep down in your heart that your desperate, messy whining didn't earn a single thing. you were completely, entirely bad for him. crying and twisting beneath his weight, begging to milk him until he gave into you. but the truth's as simple as the act of sex itself:
at the end of the day, no matter how spoiled you are or how hard he tries to punish you, your boyfriend simply can’t bring himself to deny his princess, his sweet baby — his spoiled, little brat.
𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬◞﹒୧. Onyankopon was a bit foolish to introduce his cute autistic sister—you—to Connie. You were a literal princess who deserved all his care. The most beautiful girl ever in his eyes, and he had no shame breaking Ony's rules to make you his girlfriend. Ony thought he had managed to protect you from his criminal friend, but for years Connie had been secretly coming at night to make love to you. Like tonight.
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬◞﹒୧ . 2.5k words, black!fem!reader, plus!size!reader, hyperfeminine nonverbal autistic reader, sign langage, hispanic!connie, plug!connie, fluffy smutty fic, established relationship, forbidden love, stoner!connie, tattooed!connie, pierced!connie, affectionate!connie, check ins, sensory seeking needs, hyposensitivity, ‘mami, baby, princesa’ pet names, feet kissing/toes sucking, fingering, cunnilingus, choking, vaginal penetration, missionary with legs on shoulders, kisses.
𝐤𝐫𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐥'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬◞﹒୧ . first mini connie fic, i wanted something cute!!!! i have a longer one in my wips, hehe… hope you will like this <3
The sounds of the game Detroit Become Human lulled Connie into a high. Even Eren's grunts when he made a choice that would negatively impact the story were like a sweet melody accompanying him as he floated, staring at the ceiling with glazed over eyes. Everything was perfect; he was so relaxed he wasn't thinking about the addicted clients he'd have to serve tomorrow, or how hard Ony would beat him if he knew how he was going to make his sister cum tonight.
He glanced down the stairs, alerted by your footsteps, as if you were divinely connected. His eyes followed you down with your tablet, wearing a pale pink leggings and vest set from I AM GIA. No one in your family knew, but Connie had bought it, and he felt hot just thinking you were wearing it on purpose because he was there. You looked like a pilates princess, and your vanilla scent filled the room as you approached your brother's group of friends, making Connie intoxicated, as always.
Everyone greeted you except Connie, who must play it cool as if his dick wasn't making regular in-and-out motions inside you at least four times a week. As if his heart wasn't beating, his body wasn't breathing for your beautiful, sparkling brown eyes.
You glanced at Connie, smiling shyly as if he were a stranger and not your boyfriend of several years. It was a shame your overprotective brother was in the room; you would have loved to get down on your knees to kiss the tattoos on his stomach and take his pierced dick in your mouth, turned on by his dark streetwear outfit, contrasting with your pink one. He looked like a bad boy, but the only bad guy here was Eren; Connie was a loverboy. He returned your small smile by discreetly patting the spot next to him. You sat down next to him, pleased because you thought he was looking at the drawings you were making on your tablet, but the truth was that Connie was staring at your thick thighs, which had tripled in size in your seated position. He remembered what it felt like to have them trembling around his head and adjusted his sweatpants so his erection wouldn't be noticeable. He took out his phone. You had to know.
“I want to be inside you.”
Concentrated in your digital art and oblivious to the tension, your stylus stopped drawing, your eyes rereading the message in confusion.
‘In a food, stabbing, or sexual way?’ You sent.
Connie giggled softly when he received the notification. You and your autistic brain that takes everything literally. Dirty talk was a pain in the ass with you.
“All three. Your beauty stabs me, I want to eat you up to have you inside me, and I want to fuck you.”
“That’s something Chikage from Hakuouki would have said.”
“Who is this nobody from another otome?”
“Speak of my husband with respect.”
“Your real future husband is right here, princesa,” he whispered in your ear. You shivered at the sensual intonation of his voice, as close as you were, your body overheating at the thought of tonight. You checked that no one was looking in your direction so you could sign “I hope so, but you know it’s not possible.”
Connie didn’t lose his sweet expression, still a playful glint in his eyes. He placed his hand on your thigh to grasp the soft flesh. “Ony will have to kill me with his own hands to prevent our future together. Even my spirit will haunt him. He can’t do anything to me.”
You quickly brushed his hand away, heat rising to your neck and burning your cheeks.
Your relationship consisted of three things: acting like goofy fools together, him playing the hero of forbidden romances, and him making love to you passionately and tenderly.
Being with Connie was like living a real rom-com, even though he was a drug dealer.
You were writing a new message. “I’m going to leave you, you make my head boil.”
He laughed softly. “Since when does my girl understand metaphors like that?”
You playfully punched him and signed “I’m not a walking autistic cliché.”
“Yes, you are. Look at what you sent me a few minutes ago.”
You ignored him and went back up to your room and once at the top of the stairs you gave him the finger and he just gave you his stupid smile with his red eyes because of the weed.
──────── 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭,
Connie walked into your room, immediately ripping off his hoodie and t-shirt and throwing them on the floor, revealing his fully tattooed chest and abdomen. Filled with designs you'd done, like the rose that started its stem on his hip and whose petals touched his ribs, the soft style of the tattoo contrasted with the harsh lines of the ink. But Connie loved it. It was like having you and him inside him, on him, for him.
'Heaven or Las Vegas' by Cocteau Twins played softly in your room as you sat at your vanity. The dream pop song made Connie, who was stoned out, drift even further into the psychedelic atmosphere. You detangled your hair with hair milk, separating it into four twists—two in the front on each side, two in the back—so it would be easier to manage tomorrow when you went to get your hair braided by your favorite braider, who didn't charge an entire month's salary for long knotless braids. Connie admired the goddess who was his girlfriend for a long time, licking his lips as he noticed you were wearing that Savage X Fenty pale rose nightgown, which was sheer, with a ribbon bow at the center of your chest.
“Mami, I missed you,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around your neck and burying his face in your scalp, inhaling the scent of rosemary mint from your Mielle hair oil, castor oil, and shea butter from your Skala leave-in conditioner. He bought that one for you after seeing a TikTok about a Brazilian influencer with the same curl pattern as you recommending it.
With your hands manicured in a French manicure, you used sign language to communicate “We saw each other earlier,” with a roll of your eyes.
“I know, but I’m obsessed with my princess.” He kissed the back of your neck, his cuban accent adding charisma to his voice.
His desire, love, and passion for you, dripping from his voice, made you feel all giddy and fuzzy in your stomach. You smiled shyly at him in the mirror of your heart-shaped vanity.
“Don’t smile like that,” he said softly, almost desperately, his red eyes and dilated pupils even more affected by your little smile. “You’re so gorgeous in this.” He played with the thin straps of your nightgown. “But I’m sure you’re even prettier without them, aren’t you, baby?”
Shyly, you ignored his compliment and finished styling your hair before protecting it with your satin bonnet, the same color as your wardrobe, before getting up to hug Connie. Thinking he wanted to make love now, you led him toward the bed, but Connie spun you around.
Chuckling, you understood he wanted to dance and followed him, as the dream pop song stopped to make way for “Punch Drunk” by Sade. A wordless jazz track, purely instrumental, that made you feel like you were in an old jazz bar with your secret forbidden lover.
His hand on the small of your back, Connie made you dance, roaming around your room, laughing when you bumped into furniture because the space was small, kissing you when the saxophone was more intense than ever. He took advantage of the kisses to move his hands up and caress the voluptuous curves of your chubby body. Your fat ass, which he gripped even though you tried to push him away, the pudginess of your belly that he loved to feel under his fingers, and your ample breasts that rose and fell rapidly before him because of your barely concealed desire.
“Use your voice, what do you want?” he teased, knowing damn well you had nonverbal autism.
You glared at him and tried to push him away, but he threw you onto the bed.
“Aww, I’m such a bad boyfriend, I have to make amends for my crimes.”
He removed the rest of his clothes, keeping his black boxer briefs on for now. He stayed on his knees on the bed as you lay there, resting on your elbows.
You nodded at what he said and lifted your legs to place your French-manicured foot on the center of his collarbones. Connie smirked, knowing what you wanted.
He took your foot in his hands and kissed it all over, from heel to toe, appreciating the softness of your skin as you had just come from the shower where you had exfoliated. He wrapped his tongue around your toes, then sucked on them, his gray eyes fixed on you, a fire igniting from your core and spreading through your body.
You wanted this, you needed this. You gave him your other foot where he did the same, little shivers running through you at the movements of his tongue on your skin. Your breathing quickened as his lips moved up your leg, venturing under your nightgown. You couldn't see Connie because of your chubby belly, so you lay fully on your back, staring up at the ceiling. Not being able to speak or see him should have made your sex life difficult, but it was quite the opposite. Connie regularly checked for your consent and comfort; your nonverbal communication wasn't an issue. You tugged at his hair to let him know you liked what his tongue was doing, and you patted his shoulders to tell him to pause because the wave of overstimulation was near. As for the details—how fast or slow to use his tongue, which spot to lick—Connie paid close attention to your breathing and the way your thighs clenched around his head to gauge whether he was doing a good job.
“I’m gonna keep this on you,” he breathed, liking the lacy pink panties you were wearing. He pushed it to the side, his warm breath on your cunt, in need for attention.
The music switched to “Iceblink Punk” by Cocteau Twins, and the combination of the psychedelic sound and Connie’s tongue plunging into you was surreal. You felt like you were floating high in the sky.
Connie was truly gentle, slow, and calm when he was eating you out. Eating pussy was an art, and he was the Mozart and Shakespeare of the field. He took his time pleasuring you, smiling because even when you couldn’t speak; you didn’t fake your panting. The warm metal ball of his piercing kept rolling around your throbbing bud, just to feel your legs tremble, but his tongue explored every corner, collecting your arousal in his mouth. He was even disappointed you'd just showered, because it lacked flavor. He was a perverted loverboy like that, yeah.
Lapping through wet folds, he groaned every time he felt the pulse of your pussy in his mouth. His hands gripped your thick hips, making them grind against his face, to guide you, to show you it was okay to do that, because your autism sometimes made you a motionless robot during sex.
“You’re okay, baby?” he asked softly, reassured when you stroked his scalp to say yes.
After a comfortable rhythm of hip movements settled in, he removed his hands and sank his fingers inside you, all the while sucking your clit. A searing, burning sensation in your lower abdomen, almost setting your whole being ablaze, as you pulled at his short hair that had grown since his buzzcut to indicate to him that the combination was perfect.
When you reached your peak, there were no dramatic expressions or noises, just Connie nearly choking as you pushed your pelvic floor into his head and painfully squeezed your thighs around him.
“Still in a hyposensitivity mode?” he whispered, as he managed to pull away from your grip.
You nodded, catching your breath. Connie was always attentive to your autistic sensory needs, especially when you were in a sensory-seeking mode, or a mode where your sensitivity was low and you needed a lot of stimulation, like now.
He removed his underwear, nudging your entrance with his pierced tip as he laid down on you, putting all his weight on you. You were crushed by him, but it was perfect. To further satisfy your sensory needs, he wrapped his hand around your neck, squeezing comfortably. It was the perfect combination of pressure for you.
“No tits touching?”
You shook your head. Sometimes, you needed a lot of stimulation while simultaneously hating stimulation somewhere.
He leaned down to kiss your neck. “Okay, mami. Gonna take of you, now. Do you feel my piercing?”
He slid his pierced dick through the folds, still not entering for the moment. Your hands caressed his back, digging your nails into it to communicate that yes, you feel it, and you like it. He groaned, placing more passionate open-mouthed kisses on your skin. He pushed his hips, your warmth welcoming him like a king. He smiled against your skin hearing your usual gasp when his full size was inside you.
“Can’t handle these inches, huh?” he teased, sucking your earlobe. “You’re gonna take this dick anyway. Too bad for you, princesa.”
He leaned back to see your eyes widening every time he penetrated you. He moved his hips backward to let you breathe and pushed back in.
“Why is she wetter than usual?”
He looked at your slick cock, which covered his face with awe.
You pointed at his red eyes. His smile widened.
“Are you turned on by my stoner self? You’re so cute.” He kissed you, his tongue entwined with yours. You breathed softly into the kiss, overwhelmed by him, his dick, his affection.
He slipped his hands under your bent knees and placed them on his shoulders. The position you were in made it impossible for him to hide your belly rolls under your sheer nightgown. He looked terrifying with his low groan and his eyes dilated by weed and your beauty, staring at your curves as if he wanted to devour you whole. He wrapped his hand around your neck again, to your great pleasure. He increased the speed of his thrusts, panting above you, obsessed with the sight of your eyes rolling back when he touched a sensitive spot inside you.
A fever rose in your belly; you were embarrassed to come so quickly again, but every movement of Connie's was precise and deep, so he chuckled when he felt your legs clench his head once more.
He kissed your forehead.
“My baby is needy tonight.”
You nodded, cuddling him, pleading with your eyes to go even faster and harder.
He gladly spent the whole night taking care of you like he always does. Because that’s the thing about Connie: when his princess wants something, he’s going to give it to her. Even if his best friend, your brother, would kill him if he knew.
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18+ He loves when you make out with his tip. ⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢
You’re kneeling between his spread thighs, the room quiet except for his ragged breathing. His length is thick and heavy in your hand, flushed dark and already leaking. You lean in and start slow, pressing soft, warm kisses right to the swollen head, letting your lips linger there like you’re kissing his mouth. He groans low, one hand gently cupping the back of your head. “Fuck, baby…” His voice is wrecked already. “Just like that.”
You smile against him and kiss him again, deeper this time. Your lips part, tongue sliding out to swirl around the sensitive tip, tasting the salty bead of pre-cum that keeps leaking for you. You make out with it lazily — open-mouthed, wet kisses, sucking gently on the head before pulling back to kiss it again, over and over.
Every time your tongue flicks across his slit, his hips twitch, and he lets out a shaky moan. You keep going, treating just the tip like it’s the only thing that matters, kissing, licking, sucking softly while your hand strokes the rest of his length.
He’s breathing hard now, fingers lightly resting on your shoulder, but he never pushes. He just watches you with dark, hazy, loving eyes, completely lost in the sight of you making out with his arousal. “You’re so fucking perfect,” he whispers, voice hoarse. “Look at you… kissing me like you love it more than anything.”
You hum happily around him and take the head back into your mouth, sucking a little harder while your tongue swirls. He groans louder, thighs tensing around you as pleasure builds.
He doesn’t last long after that. With a moan of your name, he spills across your tongue in thick, hot pulses. You keep kissing and licking him through it, gentle and sweet, until he’s trembling and pulling you up into his arms.
ಇ.content & warnings: oral f. rec :: Pussy job with lots of honeyy ::
The sun had barely risen over the quiet fields when Sukuna stepped back into the house. His hands still carried the faint scent of beeswax and fresh honey from this morning’s harvest. The first batch dripping golden and thick from the jar he held carefully, and he had set aside a piece of honeycomb just for you, knowing how you loved to chew on its waxy sweetness later.
Sukuna had never cared for beekeeping until you came into his life, The hives existed for one reason only. Your cunt -was the only thing worth drizzling that fresh honey over. Nothing else deserved it, only your pretty pussy made the sweetness perfect.
You stood at the stove in a light sundress, flipping pancakes on the griddle. The kitchen smelled warm with butter and vanilla, sukuna watched you for a moment, his eyes tracing the curve of your hips and the way the fabric brushed your thighs and he crossed the room in two strides and wrapped his arms around you from behind, his lips finding the side of your neck in a slow kiss.
"Morning, baby," he murmured against your skin voice still rough from sleep and the early work outside, you leaned back into him with a soft laugh, turning the last pancake before sliding everything onto two plates.
Sukuna had plated the peice of honeycomb for you separately and then you both sat at the small table by the window and ate together, pancakes tasting perfect, fluffy and sweet, but Sukuna kept glancing at you with that hungry look he got when the honey was this fresh.
When the plates were empty he pushed them aside. "Baby, I'm still hungry," he said without shame, his grin sharp and full of promise and before you could tease him back he stood and lifted you easily onto the kitchen table, your sundress riding up your legs as he settled you right on the edge and he kissed you deep, his tongue sliding against yours until you were breathless, then he pulled back just enough to look at you.
Sukuna hooked his fingers into your panties and tugged them down your legs, letting them drop to the floor and he pushed the hem of your sundress higher until it bunched around your waist, exposing you completely to him.
He reached for the small jar of honey and the spool, the golden liquid caught the morning light as he drizzled it slowly over your thighs first, watching it trail down, shivering at the warm sticky sensation.
"Look at you," he said, voice low as he spread your legs wide with both hands, thumbs pressing into the soft skin of your inner thighs. He took more honey with the spool again and he let it fall in thick, slow ribbons right over your pussy, coating your clit in a shiny layer, dripping down your folds and mixing with the wetness already gathering there and some of it slid lower, sticky-sweet, and Sukuna growled at the sight.
He dropped to his knees on the kitchen floor without another word, mouth hovering closer, his hot breath teasing your honey-covered skin, then he licked a broad stripe up your cunt, collecting the sweetness with a deep hum of satisfaction, the taste of fresh honey mixing with you made him press closer.
"Only this cunt. Only you baby, deserve to be covered in it."
The his tongue circled your clit slowly at first, lapping up every drop and he sucked the swollen little bud into his mouth, honey and slick coating his lips and chin, you gripped the edge of the table, legs trembling as he ate you.
Sukuna was messy about it in just the way he kept licking and slurping loudly, his tongue flicking fast over your clit before dragging lower, spreading your thighs even wider, opening you fully for his hungry mouth.
He kissed your clit softly at first, then firmer, lips pressing firm and wet against your sensitive bud, Sukuna pulled back slightly and blew cool air over your honeyed pussy, making you twitch and without warning he spat right on your clit.
Watching the saliva mix with the golden honey before he dove back in and licked it all up with a filthy groan, tongue pushing far inside your hole next, fucking you with slow, deep strokes that chased every trace of sweetness, thrusting it in and out, tongue curling to gather more of your slick mixed with sweet honey.
"Fuck, you taste so good like this," he groaned between long, hungry licks, honey stuck to his tongue as he sucked your folds, pulling them gently into his mouth one after the other and he kept returning to your clit again and again, swirling around it, flicking the tip of his tongue hard, until your hips bucked against his face, the sticky strands of honey and your arousal stretched between his lips and your cunt every time he pulled back for a breath.
Sukuna, remembering the peice of honeycomb, took it from the plate, and lifted it to your lips, "Open wide for me baby." He demanded softly, Your mouth fell open on a moan caught halfway, and he pushed the sweet dripping, comb of honey inside your mouth with the big pad of his thumb, 'hck' you swallowed, making sure his pretty girl got a taste aswell, the sugary almost burning sweetness coating your mouth as you sucked around his thumb eagerly.
He pulled his thumb free with a wet 'pop', sticky strings of your saliva and honey connecting your lips to his thumb, he pressed his middle finger, index and thumb together rubbing the slick, till it webbed and coated them, then he took those two thick fingers and slid them into your pussy while his mouth focused on your clit, the wet squelches mixing with his slurps filled the quiet kitchen and Sukuna kept pumping them slow and deeper, curling them just right while he sucked harder.
He drizzled more honey over everything, making it even slicker, even messier and kept lapping it up greedily, tongue flat and broad, dragging from your entrance all the way up to your sensitive clit over and over.
Your moans growing louder and looking up at you, his eyes dark with lust, face glistening with honey and your pussy juices,"That's it, baby. Let me have my breakfast. I only keep the hives for this cunt. Only your pussy is worth the honey."
Then he buried his face deeper, nose rubbing against your mound as he devoured you, tongue moving faster, relentlessly on your clit while his fingers fucked into you with a steady rhythm, the sweet sticky heat of the honey combining with the warmth of his mouth drove you higher.
Sukuna kept going, sucking and licking without pause, humming rough against your pussy, the vibration sending sparks through you, pulling his fingers out only to replace them with his tongue again, thrusting it deep inside your hole to fuck you properly.
In and out, slow and loving, his mouth making wet obscene noises as his tongue-fucked you, then back to your clit, sucking it firm between his lips while two fingers returned to stroke that gummy soft spot inside you that made your thighs shake.
He spread your thighs wider still, holding you open so he could bury himself completely. Another soft kiss to your clit, another puff of cool air, then he spat once more on your dripping pussy and licked every drop up like a man starved, face shiny and messy, honey coating his chin and cheeks as he alternated between sucking your clit and thrusting his tongue into your hole.
Table creaking under you as your body tensed, not slowing down, eating your cunt like he was starved, the messy slurps and low groans stirring through you as honey kept dripping whenever he paused to add more, and he made sure to lick every bit away, tongue exploring every fold, every inch of your soaked pussy and your fingers tangled in his hair, holding him close as the pleasure built sharp and sweet.
He sucked your clit harder, fingers curling faster, tongue occasionally dipping down to fuck into your hole again, the combination pushing you right to the edge and he looked up at you once more.
"Come on my tongue, baby. This pussy is the only sweetness I need."
That was all it took, you came with a broken cry, thighs clamping around his head and Sukuna moaned into your pussy, licking you through it, drawing out every pulse with long, greedy licks of his tongue.
Keeping his mouth on you even after his gentle laps, cleaning up the last sticky sweetness mixed with your cum, tongue swirling softly around your sensitive clit, making you twitch and whimper and he kissed your pussy tenderly, then blew one final soft breath over your wet folds before giving your clitbine final sweet kiss.
When he finally pulled back face shiny, lips swollen, he wiped his chin with the back of his hand but still leaned in to press one last slow kiss right over your pussy. "Best breakfast I've had in a long time, baby." He said, voice rough and satisfied, then he helped you sit up, pulling your sundress back down while you caught your breath.
The jar of honey sat there, still half full, promising more sweet mornings ahead.
SYNOPSIS ❤︎ ₊ ˙ ⊹ visiting clark’s farm-home means sticky summer heat, a slipping dress, and tension so palpable it tastes like sin . . .
CONTAINS ⨾ ⸻ ( 7k+ ) words of ⨾ nsfw / smut, ( farmer!clark kent / superman ) x southern belle fem!reader ( black coded ), established relationship, food play kinda lol, fingering, outdoor sex, missionary, creampie, lowercase intended, minors shoo!
my love letter! ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ i’ve made superman my muse ever since i walked out the theater, and i can’t seem to get this farmboy out of my mind >.< i wanted clark in his natural habitat, but all in all, this is just a lowdown, dirty roll in the hay lol . please enjoy, reblogs are appreciated, and thank you so much for reading! 🍎
the kent farm is alive. it smells of apple skin and warm earth, hums with the lazy heat of late afternoon— golden and honey-thick. it’s the kind of place that ripens everything it touches.
your lover’s had a typical day. hauling hay bales, sprinkling fertilizer across fifty acres of rich land, plowing harvesting lines into fields and whatnot. you’ve had quite the time yourself watching him do so.
the sun’s low enough to gild the outstretched treetops, but its heat still beats down on the crown of your head, your skin all flushed and dewy from roaming around the farm. somewhere above, cicadas whir. somewhere behind you, his footsteps stop.
clark’s finally returned from the orchard field, his white cotton undershirt clinging to his back and sunlight playing on the rims of his glasses. he watches you from just a few paces back, looking like the very personification of rural americana— faded-red gingham, sleeves rolled, forearms browned and strong. his collar’s askew and open at the throat, chest damp and a button missing. you surely don’t mind.
there’s a honeycrisp apple in his hand. freshly plucked, still warm from the sun. he tosses it once, then catches it with a lazy smile.
“you ever had one right off the branch?” he asks, voice all slow charm and kansas drawl. he pushes up his glasses to tame the wild ringlets of dark hair falling into his brow.
you shake your head, watching the way his fingers curl around the fruit. big, careful hands . . . the kind that could tear you apart or cradle you whole.
he takes a bite. crisp. loud. juice trickles down his wrist, glinting in the sunlight.
your throat goes absolutely dry.
“mm, sweet . . .” he murmurs, wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. he holds temptation right there in his very palm. “here,” his offer is gentle, “try it.”
your rosy-tinted smile is light and easy, peering up at him through the soft veil of your lashes. the breeze teases the hem of your ivory milkmaid dress while sunlight pools over your collarbone and shoulders. “you sure make it hard to say no,” you say, half to him and half to the ache curling in your chest.
he steps closer, slow and certain, until your back grazes the sun-warm siding of the farmhouse— splintered redwood pressing through cotton. he looms at your front, all broad and radiant and impossible to look away from. his entire shadow spills across you, and he smells of rich kansas soil and faint, sugary traces of mcintosh. the fruit lingers in his hands, ripe and flushed with color, but it’s that look in his sky-blue eyes that tempts you most.
he holds out the bitten apple like something sacred. your dainty fingers brush his calloused ones as you reach for it, and the touch alone is enough to make your stomach twist. your eyes meet. there’s something burning-hot swirling in his gaze; it’s unreadable. heavy. starving.
the apple sits heavy in your palm; ripe, red, split down one side where his teeth have already broken the skin.
“bet it’s the best thing you’ll taste all day.”
you arch a soft brow, tilting your chin up. “why don’t you feed me, farmboy?”
that gets him. his mouth twitches at the corner, and he brings the fruit to your lips himself, like you knew he would. he spurs you on with a slow command, “open.”
you lean in without a word, lips brushing the side of the fruit where his fingers cradle it. you sink your teeth in, and the apple gives way with a sharp crack. it floods your mouth with sugar and tang and sun-warm juice, trailing down your lip, all slow and glistening— a bead of gold slipping from the corner of your mouth to curve down your chin. his gaze follows the droplet. it feels forbidden, almost.
clark’s breath leaves him in a broken sigh. he doesn’t move. “jesus,” he exhales like it’s been ripped out of him.
when you look up again, clark’s already watching your mouth— entirely smitten, barely restrained. his gaze doesn’t waver. his own lips part ever so slightly.
“you’ve got juice,” he says softly, touch ghosting towards your jaw, resisting the urge to catch it, “right . . . here.”
he wipes it off with his thumb, then brings it to his mouth. sucks it clean.
it’s a sin— good god, it has to be. the way he looks at you like you’re the only thing sweeter than eden’s first god-given fruit; like he’d pull you into the hayloft, press you to the rustic walls and taste every drop of paradise off your skin.
you swallow hard. he hears it, you know he does— hears the slow gulp of your own desire, the thud of your heartbeat pounding wildly beneath your breastbone. his thumb doesn’t leave your skin, lingering at the edge of your plushy lips.
the apple falls into the grass, forgotten.
“you’re real quiet all of a sudden,” clark says, light and playful. you blink up at him. your chest is rising too fast. he watches how your breasts heave against the fragile confines of your lacy neckline, a tremble of breath beneath satin. “cat got your tongue?” the rasp in his voice is delectably thick and undeniably midwestern, touched with a bit of something wanton.
your lips part helplessly, but nothing comes out. just the lucent ghost of his name, a miserable attempt at ‘ clark ’ that unravels him enough to close the space between you.
his hands, warm and delightfully large, find your waist. he draws you to him—not roughly, no, because clark never isn’t gentle. but with such an assured certainty, like your body belongs right there slotted against his. soft upon solid, heat wafting in the middle.
“say something . . . anything,” he sounds hushed, hoarse. you don’t usually still like this when he teases; it halts him. his face is ever so close, the straight bridge of his firm nose grazing yours, dark brows knit in a quiet, aching hunger. one hand lifts, his fingers slipping behind your nape, cradling tenderly as though to anchor you.
your soft hands slide beneath his checkered shirt to meet boiling warmth, solid sinewy muscle, taut tanned skin, faintly dusted fine hairs at his pelvis— the rise and fall of an all-powerful man barely holding it together.
he’s well over six feet of thick, sculpted brawn, hard to reach even in the custom hand-stitched boots he gifted you. and so, you rise onto your tippy-toes, lips skimming along the shell of his cartilage. the warm scent of cedar and vanilla cling to your skin, and sweet, sinful aroma seeps warmly into him. it makes him throb hard in his boxers. you prompt him with a soft, saccharine whisper makes his ears flush pink:
“kiss me.”
his mouth is on yours in the next breath— no hesitation, not a single question. just heat. perhaps a bit of hunger.
it begins unhurried, with a slow suckle here and a drawn-out lick there, like he’s afraid you’ll slip through his fingers and vanish, or you’re made up of dreams that he wouldn’t dare shatter.
but then you whimper. so soft, broken. just like that, it undoes him like the slip of a ribbon. his lips claim, part, press . . . then his tongue slides in, slow and molten, tasting of you like he’d been dying for it.
your gasp catches against his mouth, and it’s just about the holiest thing he’s ever heard. his own growls follow; dark, guttural and drawn from somewhere so primal even he’s scared to face it.
twitching with want, clark’s fingers flex at your waist, drawing you desperately flush against him. hips meeting hips, chest to chest. your very heartbeat pounds in your body and reverberates through his like it's trying to climb into his chest. the other hand cups your jaw, tilting your face to deepen the kiss—deeper, wetter, needier.
the way clark tongues you down lets you know that his resolve is leaking. his own swirls with yours, coaxing, teasing, then devouring. this kiss must be hunger’s incarnate; open-mouthed and breathless, teeth catching your bottom lip, tugging, then soothing the sting with a velvet lick.
it’s only when you weakly knack his bicep, gasping for a sliver of air, that he pulls away. it feels wrong to be rid of your lips, even for a second.
“god help me,” he groans in that intimate way only you’re meant to hear. “m’sorry, baby, i—“ clark pants, involuntarily pressing into you. his hips roll into yours before either of you can stop it, unthinking and helpless like lust is pulling the strings. when you moan in reply, his cock jumps within his coveralls. “didn’t mean to get carried away.”
“don’t you stop,” you whine, fisting his shirt like he’s the only solid thing left. you lift your knee to graze his crotch, painstakingly stiff and prodding against denim. “i need you. right now.”
“you don’t know what you’re asking,” he grunts out a feeble warning, but his mouth finds your again anyway. when he sucks on your tongue, slow and filthy, you swear you feel the very earth tilt beneath your feet.
your man is capable of a great many things. you’re reminded of that when he’s gone in a gust of wind, then back before your next breath with a timeworn blanket from the farmhouse sofa tucked under one arm, all in mere seconds.
his arm comes under your rear, scoops you up like it’s nothing, and gently lays you down in the grass with dizzying ease. the soft patterned cloth cushions your back as the orchard rustles around you. canopying leaves sway and sunlit-shadows flicker overhead. the golden july sky and towering apple trees are your quiet witnesses; watching, waiting, holding their breath.
clark’s gaze darts to your lips before dipping lower. the way he drinks you in is bashful; almost boyish, like his homegrown manners hold him back. his pupils dilate, jaw tensing. you’re nearly certain he’s using x-ray vision to take the smallest peek beneath the fabric . . . and from the heat flushing his red cheeks, it’s driving him wild.
“tryin’ to be a gentleman here, promise. just . . . not doing a great job right now.”
you look up at him, eyes glinting with a teasing laugh playing on your lips. your arms lift, slow but sure. then your hands find his hair, fingers slipping into the dark fluff of his curls. he bites back a sound when your manicured nails scrape lightly along his nape.
“oh, i know. you’re usually better behaved, kal.” it just isn’t fair, how you say his given name all soft and sweet like you don’t know what it does to him. but you do. you know exactly what you’re doing. and from the way his hands tighten on your waist, so does he.
“tell me to stop,” he rasps, “might do somethin’ reckless.”
“you’re always so careful, clark . . i want to see what reckless looks like on you.”
“y— you sure, sweetheart?” his smile cracks crooked and dazed, like he’s barely holding himself together. you swear he’s got hearts in his eyes.
“you heard me,” you run your finger along the sheen of his chest, just above the neckline. “i thought you were the strongest man on earth.” a sly smile, a dripping voice. you’re goading him. “don’t tell me you’re nervous.”
“oh?” he muses through a breathy laugh. his restraint is cracking. “careful’s what kept me from doing this sooner,” he shifts forwards, settling between your parted thighs and sliding his massive hands up them. body heat rolls off him in waves, and his undeniable hard-on nudges your skin.
“that dress is hanging on by a prayer, anyhow . .” he mutters, gaze pinned to the soft dip between your collarbone and breasts, the barest curve of them rising with each breath. his hand slinks around your backside, grabbing the rounds of your ass through ivory cotton. you arch into him like a flower toward the light, arms cradling his head closer. his other hand drifts up to feel the slope of your spine, palm dragging along warm skin like he’s memorizing it.
“so soft,” he mutters, almost to himself. “everywhere.”
clark’s thumb grazes the hem of your skimpy panties, brushing the little ribbon atop it and teasing the scallop-trimmed edge, while his mouth trails slow, damp kisses along your jawline. lazy at first, then firmer. you feel his breath stutter against your cheek when your hips grind back into his palm.
“you’re killin’ me, baby,” he frees a fragile chuckle, forehead resting on yours. a wild little curl of his skims the subtle angle of your brow. “can barely think, i . . . want you so bad it hurts.”
he grips your ass harder, the thick press of his arousal straining against you. clark’s instinctive grinding pulls gasp from you, but he doesn’t let up; mouth moving to your shoulder, biting just enough to make you flinch and whine.
“say it’s okay,” he pants. “say i can—”
“take it off, kal.”
then, without breaking eye contact, he hooks his thumb under the hem of your dress and presses up, nudging the fabric higher. his gaze holds you in place, asking silently even though he doesn't need to. you’re already his. you truly wonder if seduction or hypnosis falls under the wide array of his abilities. you give a slow nod; eager, breathless, sure.
he exhales hard through his nose, hands trembling slightly as they slip beneath the milkmaid straps resting on your shoulders. the lace-trim cloth is already halfway falling; it only takes the faintest tug before it slinks down your arms, like the peel of a ripened apple curling away. you feel as though you'll be eaten alive like the one that was dropped to the floor— not that the thought doesn’t excite you.
the rest is tugged, peeled, kissed away from your skin. the dress now pools at your shifting hips until he pulls it past your wiggling toes. it’s flung aside, lost in a wide corner of the spread blanket. it lands similar to a fruit dropped from a tree, unnoticed; just like anything else that isn’t you right now.
clark’s touch hovers at your ribs, thumbs brushing beneath the wiring of your lacy butter-yellow bra. his stare is soaked in awe. your nipples brush linen as he nimbly undoes the clamps and pulls it free, peaked and aching like rosebuds. he audibly groans the moment your boobs spill free. you’re picturesque, bare and bathed in dappled sun and orchard-shadow.
his adam’s apple bobs, lashes lowering. clark cups your breasts gently in both hands, kneading and squeezing like he aims to learn the shape of you by heart. a pretty moan slips out before you can stop it.
“god, you’re so . . .” he doesn’t finish. just ogles, like language has failed him. all he can muster up is a breathy little ‘ wow. ’ he’s two seconds away from forgetting how composed he meant to be.
“beautiful,” his knuckles faintly trace beneath the swell of your breast. he revels in how sweetly you whine. “don’t even know how to touch something like you.”
you guide his hands back to your chest, laying your palms over his like you’re teaching him how to worship. you get him to give you a nice, thorough squeeze, just how you like it. he can only stammer. you smile up at him. “you’re doing it right now, baby.”
you sit up, and lord forgive him—his gaze drops, slow and helpless, to the delicious sway of your bosom. he’s more than convinced you’re his temptation made flesh.
“you’ve got too many clothes on for someone who’s touching me like that,” you want to make quick work of his shirt. the fabric between you suddenly feels cruel. “your turn.”
you fingers, intentional and featherlight, trail down the column of his throat. you can see the warm summer flush creeping down. if you were to say a word, he’d only blame the heat. the gingham shirt clings to him, stretched faintly over muscle and modesty. you find the first button and undo it, slow and savoring.
his chest rising in a shaky breath as you move to the next button. one by one, you pry him open. he’s warm beneath all that fabric; golden, flushed, tight with anticipation. you let your knuckles graze his sternum, the ridge of his defined laterals, the dusting of chest hair that makes you ache in places you shouldn’t.
“aw, you’re blushing,” you tease, eyes dancing.
he huffs a laugh, breathless.
“hard not to when you’re lookin’ at me like that.”
you peel the clothes from his back and free him of a layer, then he strips the remaining undershirt over his head. his sinewy arms flex instinctively, like he’s suddenly aware of their size. revealed is sun-warmed skin and taut muscle, each movement deliberate and aching. his broad shoulders roll, flexing with ease beneath the sunlight.
“this okay?” he asks softly, always gentle even when his self-control frays like threadbare cotton.
you nod, brushing the texture of his frictiony coveralls. “now these,” you whisper, tugging one suspender down one shoulder, then the other, until they’ve fallen off either side. the light-wash straps ripple down like dusk falling over the fields.
clark obeys without another word. he shuffles down his coveralls and strips the denim away, past rows of sculpted abs, his firm, meaty thighs and corded calves. underneath, his red boxers are hung suggestively low on his hips. the waistband is tugged down just enough for the shadow of his v-line to flex. he’s straining hard against the cotton, thick and barely contained, the shape of him unmistakable.
“you’re so good like this, letting me unwrap you,” you giggle, giving the bold imprint a once-over. his erection stored beneath flimsy fabric twitches as you lean in.
“this is all for you,” his voice is hushed like he’s pleading, “always was.” clark’s strong arms fold around your waistline and pull you flush to him like he intends to merge. his blue eyes drink you in with a need so strong it aches. he’s massive, carved as though he was meant to carry the world. yet somehow, he looks at you like you’re the one to worship.
“if i start . . . i don’t think i’ll know how to stop.”
you reach up, brushing the curve of his clean-shaven jaw, and he turns his head, pressing a kiss into your palm like a prayer.
“then don’t,” you whisper, kissing along the impeccable angling of his jawline. “let go with me.”
he dips his head low and just like that, he’s on you again; more urgent now. more teeth. he plants open kisses down your chest, and then his mouth— hot, open, wet, and closes around your nipple. his tongue swirls so intentionally that you can’t help the sounds you make.
“can’t believe i have you under me like this,” he unlatches with a vulgar pop, one hand sliding past lace and under your waistband. “hope the ground’s decent enough for you? sorry, i should’ve asked sooner.” a thick finger dips down and finds you soaked. you yelp.
“i— it’s fine, clark. mm, i promise,” you hadn’t meant for that to materialize into a moan. the pad of his index meets your sticky folds. he stills for a beat.
“. . . christ.”
then he moves. a bit to the left, up the center until he finds the pulse of you. clark starts off with little circles, slow at first, then firmer, with purpose. you emit a stringy gasp, hips rising into him. he anchors you with one imposing hand splayed on your waist, the other rubbing you out, his mouth never once leaving your skin.
he tries working you open and meets resistance, tight heat puckering against the pad of his finger.
“easy now, baby, easy,” he rumbles out, “open up for me— just like that, fuck.”
clark never swears. it’s just not in his nature. so when he does, rough and low under his breath, you clench rapidly and heat rushes to your core like a reflex. it’s so filthy, so unexpectedly fitting of him, and it turns you on far more than it should.
with a slow roll of his wrist, he presses past, sliding further in even when your thighs twitch around his hand. the way your body tightens with need has you clutching onto him like a lifeline.
“c-clark, i— ah!” he pumps another into you, both spanned digits drawing out, and in, and out again. the accompanying ‘ shlick ’ is simply obscene. your whine coils in his chest like a sharp tug, dragging him impossibly closer. he watches your face twist with each drag of his fingers. it’s pitiful. precious, even. nothing’s ever made him feel more powerful than having you leak and pulse under his touch, not even beaming golden sun-rays itself.
his rhythm deepens, curling in with new purpose, and you feel everything. clark kisses your hair when you cry out for him. all of it brings you too close too soon, like he’s studied your body in his sleep. you’re climbing fast, panting through parted lips, muscles locking and fluttering as heat winds up in your belly. you look down, dizzy, met with his soaked hand between your thighs, fingers glistening as they disappear into your body.
“clark—!” you gasp, voice barely there. he grunts against your ear like he’s barely holding on himself.
“that’s it, sugar. thaaat’s it,” his pace doesn’t dare let up. he kisses your nose, your jaw, your neck, “let go, sweetheart. i’ve got ya.”
and you do.
you’re completely come undone beneath him; legs shaking and chest heaving like your world is splitting at the seams. and clark just watches. a heavy palm settled on your hip, jaw slack, eyes blown wide as if he’s witnessing a miracle.
but his hands don't stay still for long. even as you’re catching your breath, he’s already mapping the next place to claim. his ring and middle finger slip free, slick with your tangy sweetness. he savors it with a long, teasing lick; just as he did after that first bite of fruit.
“please,” your trembling hand finds his bulge and latches on, soft but insistent, prying a low moan from deep in his throat. “want more of you, kal. ”
he inches down the last barrier between you with shaky fingers, breath heavy, knuckles pale from restraint. his eyes never leave yours. it’s not about the mechanics—never was. it’s about you. the way you look beneath him; flushed, soft and easily corruptible, textured hair fanned across orchard grass like you bloomed just for him.
finally, clark frees himself and—good god. you don’t even realize that you’d broken eye contact just to stare. he’s so fucking big. you’ve seen him before, but somehow it always feels new. and even if you hadn't, you’d simply look at the sheer breadth of him and just know. you’d expect the man of steel to be quite endowed anyway; full, girthy and fat, with a soft thatch of curls at his root, dark and damp with heat. he leaks steadily for you, swollen tip glossy with need.
you’d love to touch him—stroke him slow, savor the heavy heat of him in your palm, but you don’t get the chance. sizeable hands are braced on either side of your hips, trapping you beneath his strong and steady frame. clark’s already leaning in and sizing you up. he drops the full weight of himself against your bare belly and rests it there. thick, flushed, and heavy where it throbs over your pelvis.
“you gonna let me in, hm?”
he flicks his hips and grinds the underside of him right over your slit. there’s so much want, so little left between you. you nod, spit-slick lips parted. you blink up at him, dazed, and something in his expression fractures. “please, papa . . want it so bad.”
that’s all it takes.
clark pulls back just enough, breath hitching as he aligns himself with your sticky, fluttering hole. his cockhead catches onto your thrumming clit and you whimper. with his typical dopey smile, only half assured, he drags his fat tip through the slick mess he made of you earlier. the pair of you release your own raw noises in tandem when he starts to push in.
the entirety of him is too much at first. it always is. slow and unrelenting with such splitting width, like he’s carving out space inside you. your mouth falls open. he sinks even further and the searing stretch alone steals your voice completely. your fingers dig into his shoulders, rounded milky-pink nails catching on taut muscle. he’s thick. too thick. and yet your body opens for him like it’s been waiting all your life.
clark groans, low, guttural and helpless. “you’re so tight. jesus, baby. i can’t— i jus’ can’t—”
he bottoms out.
you both go still. his forehead, matted with sweat-drenched curls, presses to yours. a long, syrupy whine of his name tumbles out of you, and your parted hips are pressed flush to his, bare and burning. entering you isn’t nearly enough— he pushes in further, grinding in deep and slow; practically buries himself in you. the more he sinks in, impossibly so, the tighter your squeeze the length of him. his breath shakes in his throat.
“it’s yours, baby,” he moans out like a vow, eyes squeezed shut, “it’s all yours, it’s all yours . .”
now that you’re writhing and full of him, he kisses you again—deeper now, slower, like he needs to taste all of it. all of you. your puffy lips, your jaw, the curve of your throat. you revel in every wet stroke, every sultry flick, every soft lash of muscle. his teeth graze your skin, and the drag of his tongue is so hot it draws shivers. every part of him feels too firm, too solid, too much to take . . . but god, do you want it.
“you doin’ okay, sweetheart?” he rasps, lips brushing your temple. you nod, just barely. “mhm. you just . . feel so deep,” his hips make a deepening tilt forward and you gasp again, already breathless. to that, he smiles against your skin. “that’s ’cause i’m home now, baby— alllll the way in,” he bites down what’d have been a pitiful noise. your slick walls flutter, clenching greedily.
clark gathers both your wrists in one hand, fastens them over your head, and draws his hips back; just enough for the loss to echo inside you, leaving you to clench desperately around empty summer air. you whimper just in time for him to thrust forward again, splitting you open until your walls spasm around him in soft, rippling pulses. the further in he presses, the more you find yourself unraveling beneath him.
“y— you feel that?” his hips drag back, slow and torturous, before sliding home again. deep, unhurried. he watches pleasure break open across your pretty face. “please, baby,” he draws out and retreats again, stopping at the peak of his throbbing tip, then snaps back in, sinking into your warmth. his hand crawls down to play with your puffed clit, and you almost scream. he revels in your tight, rhythmic spasms. “tell me you can feel it.”
you moan, nuzzling your face in the heat of his wide flexing bicep, your legs instinctively curling around him. he catches your thigh in one steady grasp, hikes it higher up his torso, and plunges in hard. the air leaves your lungs in a sharp gasp, practically fucking knocked out of you. he’s stirring you up all over. he’s kissing everywhere. he’s inside everything.
“oooh— uh-huh,” your head tilts back into the quilted fabric underneath you, and he dives in low to nip at your jugular. all while you take him, the only thing you can muster to do right now anyway. your drooling pussy stretches wide around the shape of him, insatiably sucks in every inch. he splits you open and fills you so wholly, you couldn’t let him go if you tried. “can f-feel you, mmh . . everywhere, clark.”
“oh my god— you’re taking me so good, baby. so, so good.”
clark follows up with long, deep strokes, each thrust drawn-out like he’s savoring every drag. your feet cinch together around his back, breath hiccuping. his pelvis grinds into yours with perfect, aching pressure, brushing somewhere inside that makes your eyes roll back into your skull. each thrust brings about the thick swing of his weighty balls, landing sharp and heavy against the curve of your ass. his hands roam like he wants to crawl inside you and stay for good.
then he finds it—his thick cockhead grinding into that one devastatingly spongy little spot that has your body seizing around him. you arch and cry, able to make such delirious ruin appear so holy. clark licks a salty rolling tear off your cheek, pins down your waist with both hands, and holds you in place as he bullies his way into it, humping and fucking on the one spot that makes your body lurch. over and over, like he’s engraving his very name in your walls. you sob his name, fingernails sunk into his hair and scratching at his scalp. clark groans like he’s never gonna stop. he’s claimed a place nobody else could ever reach.
“there?” he asks, grinning now, voice sticky-sweet. he’s clearly pleased. “that’s the spot, right, sweetness?” you can’t even answer, barely conscious, shaking legs treating to give, brained fogged with the heat, with him. he bucks forward, chasing the wet clap of your bodies meeting, the sound that rips from your chest isn’t human. you can’t breathe. can’t think. he’s splitting you wide open like a peach pulled apart by hand— and you continue wanting for more.
you whine and sputter from every gut-stirring thrust, and the sight of you beneath him; flushed, leaking, so messily beautiful while clinging to him like he’s the very air you breathe, finally snaps the remaining thread of his reserve; clark’s even shocked he still had any left over. he can only thank Rao for the shred of kryptonian restraint still anchoring him. without it, he probably would’ve mauled you by now— snapped completely and fucked you right into the floor.
it’s gone now, so clark lets go. fucks you harder. he hates losing control, hates how it makes him feel like he could ruin you. but he knows that just as much, you love when he isn’t gentle. and your body shows it; so pliant, so eager, sucking around him with every hungered slam of his sturdy hips.
“you hear that?” he murmurs low and ragged, tone shaking with need. the resounding squelch of your soaked cunt rings loud between each slam. “that’s you, baby. so wet for me . . . all that just for me.”
“oh my god, c-clark— fuck, papa, i wannittt,” your pussy stretches wide around the heft of him, drooling and desperate, swallowing him inch by aching inch. he’s thick, heavy, unrelenting—and you take it all, the shape of him carving pleasure into you with every vigorous thrust. he leans down to you, so low that your breasts are bouncing against his solid chest. clark splits you open like a gift, perhaps something sacred, and stuffs you so full it’s dizzying. you clamp down so fast it’s obvious—your body won't let him leave.
“say it again,” his voice rumbles low and rough against the side of your throat he nuzzles into, hips snapping into you with brutal precision, “say you want it.”
“i, mmm— want your cock, want all of it . .” you break off with a sharp cry, legs trembling from the force of him inside you. “fuck me harder, jus’ fuck me, please—!”
“you beg so pretty, don’t stop,” the expanse of clark’s sweaty palms press down on your coiling belly. his cock drives up so deep it knocks the breath right out of your lungs, stealing sound and sanity alike. “takin’ it so good, sugar,” he coos into your ear, feeling tempted to bite it. your hands scramble for the broad plane of his firm back, desperate for something to anchor you, nails dragging and digging; nothing you do could ever mark him. he drives his feet into the ground to propel him, thrusts again and you nearly sob. juices slide down your slit and pool messily beneath your ass. “too deep, i-i can’t . . i need it, please— keep going, keep going,”
“i’ll give you everything, baby.” he whispers, awed and undone. you’re soft and spasming around him, bulging where he sinks deep. it drives him half-mad, the way he doubles you in size— thick and imposing enough to leave an outline in your tummy. you’re crying harder now, quaking on his lap, and it only spurs him further. his grip is hot and sure, pistoning in and out of you in a punishing rhythm. you wail for more and he gives it, fingers sweeping your pearly center, making you bounce on him like it’s instinct. his face is pink, ears burning, and he doesn’t even notice—too focused on breaking you apart just right.
something in you begins to crack and splinter. you can’t necessarily recall the very moment when, or which of clark’s actions had even prompted it— maybe the mouthwatering pressure he’s been rubbing onto your nub, or the way he keeps hammering into your pussy, paced so deliciously brutal. but you just know it the moment the world blurs and your limbs don’t listen anymore.
you lurch forward and feel everything slipping, clawing for something solid; his shoulders, his name, the earth itself. he feels you tighten around him, toppling over the edge. the moment your body pulses around him, his thrusts falter. he can fucking hear it; the stirring of your insides, the obscene squelch your sopping pussy makes, the single snap of a tightly drawn coil deep inside you.
“c-close,” you squeeze out, “oh, sweetheart. you gonna cum, hm?” his voice is dark satin, frayed with strain. your legs are trembling, thighs slick and twitching around his hips, and your cunt clenches so tight he nearly sees stars himself. your body screams yes for you when your mouth just can’t.
clark sees it; the flutter in your lashes, the wet, desperate gape of your lips, the starlight blinking out behind your eyes. something in him breaks. he groans along with you, his own noise raw and guttural like it’s being torn from somewhere buried. clark hauls you against the thick grind of him as he drives deeper, harder, messier. his face buries in your neck, lips dragging hot across your skin, drinking in every gasp you can still manage to make. he doesn’t dare stop; not when you’re this tight, this close— not when he’s the one pulling you apart so beautifully.
“oh yeah— there you go. come on, baby, come for me, i know you can do it. let me feel it, lemme—”
you completely undo.
your body obliges before you can answer. pleasure bursts wide open and crashes through you, white-hot and all-consuming. you cling to him, jolting with a full-body tremor, hips locking tight. he catches you fast, holding you upright as your cunt spasms ceaselessly around him. it’s too much. it’s not enough. there’s a pleasurable twinge of satisfaction settles low in his gut, what with being able to make you come like this. he holds you steady, murmuring your name like holy prayer.
“ohhh, that’s it. such a good girl, you’re so f—fucking good,” he grits his teeth and a foreign curse slip out. he feels your own orgasm ripple through him, a vice of heat and slick. “f-fuck, clark—mmnh, can’t—” you choke, words barely forming. they follow into gasps that he swallows up in a wet, devouring kiss, his tongue slotting into your agape mouth as he braces his forearm tight across your spine.
clark doesn’t stop. he fucks through the heat of you; every convulsion, every aftershock, until you’re sobbing, shaking, slurring broken pleas against his throat. he lets out a needy, bitten-off moan and buries his warm face in your neck.
his own unraveling nears, and it starts with a stutter in his pace, a helpless twitch of his hips. he drools onto your skin, panting with his mouth open and chest heaving, the trembling weight of his body suspended just barely above you, forehead pressed to yours. his thrusts falter, sloppy now, sweat slicking every inch of him as his forearms tremble beneath the strain. the pleasure is immeasurable. it’s breaking him. you must be his very own goddamn kryptonite.
“mmm, k—kal,” you hiccup, head lolled against the quilt beneath you. you try to say something, anything, but it only comes out in shattered gasps and breathless keens. clark plants a shaky kiss to your cheek. he understands. he always does.
“o-oh god, baby,” he slurs, moaning your name, voice raw. the sound is wrenched from deep in his ribs. “you feel what you’re doin’ to me? i’m almost—can’t hold it, feels so good, i’m, ah, i’m gonna—”
he comes. hard.
it overtakes him; balls tight, cock buried, hips jerking forward, body tensed like a struck chord as clark spills into you hot and deep. he growls into your neck and fucks you through every pulsing stream of inhuman cum, pushing through one final grind. he moans your name so low and reverent, breathing out a shaky prayer onto your collarbone as you milk him of everything—
— but there’s more. you should know by now; he’s a sun-born alien, of course he isn’t finished with you. “i’m gonna . . hngh, g’nna fill you up, honey,” he moans deep, wild and unrestrained in your ear, when another pump of cum follows. warm, heavy spurts flood you, coating every spongy inch. he practically sobs through it, flushed face buried in your neck, murmuring expletives and your name like a prayer. he keeps fucking you through it as you convulse, lazy now, slow and aching, even as he twitches and groans with every overstimulated drag.
your legs wrap tight around his waist as he stills; sealing him in, holding him down. he doesn’t try to leave— he can’t pull out. he won’t. clark simply grinds in deeper as if he’s trying to disappear inside, like his sticky-hot skin against you still isn’t close enough. he can never stand a breath of space between you after he comes.
there’s a wet warmth trickling out of you—his cum easing down the seam of your ass, thick and slow. you mewl, and he groans softly at the feeling. you gaze up at him, eyes glossy, lashes damp, barely breathing. it’s only the resounding thud of your heartbeat within your chest that lets him know you’re still here; that he didn’t take it too far.
“clark,” is your hoarse whisper. your hands lie beside your head, and he intertwines his own with them, his thumb tenderly grazing your knuckle. “i . . feel so full everywhere.”
clark cradles your face, letting out the softest laugh, and the sound carries something adoring; breaks halfway into something reverent. he kisses your cheek, your lips, and sweat-slicked temple. his heart thrums when you smile up at him weakly. then, the subtle shift of his hips, softening cock still plunged inside you, makes you twinge.
“sensitive?” he asks, and you release a breathless ‘ mhm. ’ “didn’t mean to go so hard,” clark murmurs, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear with trembling fingers. “you just looked so pretty, begging for it.”
“don’t be sorry,” you hum, a dazed little sound. you look like you’re still trying to remember your name, where you are, who he is. your hand unravels from his own to stroke up the expanse of his damp back. “it was perfect.”
“you’re perfect,” he breathes out. “can i clean you up, sweetheart?” his voice is low, gentle. “or just . . . hold you like this a little longer?”
you muster to lean upwards and peck the cleft of his chin, bliss-drunk when you air out, “hold me.”
so he does.
you lie tangled together, skin still sticky from sun and sex, limbs loose with the buzz of satisfaction. the blanket sheet is a crumpled mess around your legs, and clark’s fingers are tracing lazy, featherlight shapes along your hip; like he doesn’t want to stop touching, even for a second. he teases at your warm skin with a tickle, and you laugh all soft, delighted, a little shy beneath the heat of everything that went down.
your laughter draws him in, so he nuzzles into the damp crook of your neck, lips brushing your loud, beating pulse. with a weighted hand at your waist and his thumb stroking your cheek, clark kisses you slow and indulgent, like he’s savoring the incomparable taste of you all over again.
“next time,” his hand slips down to knead at your ass. you moan sweetly into the kiss. “i’m skipping the apple and going straight for you.”
synopsis ⁀➷ the way you speak to aaron drives him insane.
song of chapter ⁀➷ ‘let’s make love’ by silk.
word count + warnings ⁀➷ 645 || 18+, nsfw content, no minors! dirty talk, doggystyle, foul language, pet names, cumming inside.
‘toss your body back and forth, so i can watch you ride.’
ᥫ᭡
you were a danger to aaron’s entire existence.
aaron often found himself breathless while in the act with you. his vision shifting as he gazed down to watch, mouth hung open in silent pleasure and surprise, as your heavy ass bounced back against his hips.
you left him speechless.
nowhere near a pillow princess, you worked hard to receive what was yours. reaching back every so often to pull him closer, needing to feel his skin against yours, holding your ass cheeks open to make him dive deeper inside—-and your mouth…? aaron could barely find the words to describe the number you did on him. he was only able to rock forward in shock as you moaned out the filthiest things to him.
“stretch me open, baby, i want you to fuck me good, daddy. can you please, baby, please, please?”
“fuckkk,” he physically shivers, as the sounds you make mixed with the sight of your messy pussy is near fatal. “why you talkin’ to me like that, mama? why you sound so fuckin’ good?”
“cause you fuckin’ me so good, baby, oh my goodness. you feel so good inside of me.”
“this pussy got me losing my mind, girl. you got me fuckin’ stuck.”
there’s a sound of a laugh and moan as you continue to throw your ass back on aaron. your face is muffled behind fluffy pillows, your arms tucked underneath them as you take all that aaron gives you.
“want you to fuck me up, want you rough with me, aaron. please aaron, please fuck me harder, daddy.”
“shit, you a nasty ass bitch. you talking so fuckin’ crazy and this pussy soakin’ me all the way up. you want me to beat that pussy up, want me to tear this lil shit up?”
“yea, aaron. want you to pound me so good. i want it so bad, i need it so bad. want that dick in me deeper, baby.”
you’re going on a nonsensical rant, so horny and ready to cum that you have no clue what you’re talking about. aaron exhales, shaking his head while trying to think clearer. folding his lips inward, his hands grip your hips with enough strength to leave marks, but you mind none because aaron’s doing what you requested.
as he moves with more force, you cry out into the pillow while your eyes roll into the back of your skull. “yessss, baby, yessss, fuck—fuck me just like that, aaron, just like that, daddy. you’re fucking me so good, oh my god!”
and aaron’s silent up to this point—unable to hold in his moans, aaron cries out brokenly. gasping and groaning as he attempts to pull out and nut over your ass, but your hand around his and the words you utter out make him pause.
“cum in me, baby, i want you in me, aaron. i want you dripping out of me, daddy, please, please.”
“ahhh, ohhh, fuckkk,” aaron can hardly breathe, mindlessly doing as you plead by staying inside your already wet pussy and fucking his cum into you until you’re both moaning out in satisfaction.
aaron’s entire weight crushes when he falls onto you, trying to catch his breath as you both are spent from the heated moment.
“goddamn, y/n.”
he chuckles and you do the same, ass still raised in the air, as he slowly pulls out of you. aaron takes his time and watches in admiration as his hot sperm spills out of your pussy and onto the mattress. a fucking mess, but he loves it.
“so fucking good, girl,” he smacks your ass while your pussy clenches, emptying the last of his nut out. you begin to shake your ass in a teasing manner, and aaron’s groaning and growing hard once again.
You're on all fours, back arched deep as he fucked you from behind in a steady, punishing rhythm. The grip of his hands on your hips was tight, fingers digging into your skin while he drove into you over and over, hitting that perfect spot with every thrust. You’d been taking it beautifully, moaning into the sheets, letting him control the pace. But tonight you wanted more.
Bracing your arms, you started pushing back against him, meeting every thrust with a roll of your hips. The second you started fucking him back, slamming your ass against his pelvis, taking him deeper, matching his rhythm, he let out a raw, broken groan. “Shit… baby,” he growled, voice thick with surprise and lust.
You didn’t stop. Every time he drove forward, you pushed back just as hard, fucking yourself on him like you couldn’t get enough. The wet slap of skin on skin grew louder, filthier. He stilled for a moment, letting you work yourself on him, savoring the way you were eagerly bouncing back. He loved it.
You could feel it in how much harder he got inside you, in the way his fingers flexed on your hips like he was barely holding himself together. “Fuck yes,” he rasped, voice low and rough. “That’s it… fuck me back. Just like that.”
Encouraged, you kept pushing, grinding, and slamming back onto him, giving as good as you got. He quickly matched your energy, thrusting harder, pushing into you deeper, one hand sliding up your back to grip your shoulder for leverage as the two of you moved together in a messy, desperate rhythm.
“God, I love when you fuck me back,” he groaned, leaning over you so his chest pressed against your back, breath hot on your neck. “You feel so fucking good like this.”
The two of you kept moving like that — frantic, sweaty, and perfectly in sync, until your legs started shaking and his thrusts turned erratic. With a deep groan, he buried himself to the hilt one last time, holding you tight against him as he came hard, your own orgasm crashing over you while you kept pushing back, milking every last drop from him.
𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬◞﹒୧ . Eren, Ony and Connie have a crush on the same woman: the cute, sweet and autistic girl always dressed in pink who works in the restaurant next to their university. Eren loves you because you're so soft when he's so rough, Only loves you because you're always so polite with him, Connie loves you because he has a thing for chubby women like you. You’re always so shy with them, you have no idea to what extent they want to ruin you. When at a college party they find you crying because your boyfriend Jean cheated on you, they offer you revenge with them. You’re a good girl who has never done anything too freaky with anyone so you don’t really know how to handle three dicks inside you. But don’t worry, they will take good care of you. And show you that you can be loved exactly as you are.
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬◞﹒୧ . 10.3k words, black!fem!reader, plus!size!reader, college au, hyper feminine autistic reader w/ social anxiety, hispanic!connie, plug!eren, basketball!player!ony, pervert stuff & stalking, polyamory, romance, affection, reassurance, male friendships, connie calls you ‘mami’ and ‘princesa’, ‘sweetheart/baby/bitch’ by eren, ‘baby/love/mama’ by ony, hard!dom!eren, soft!dom!ony, submissive!connie, gay ass stuff between the boys, mild daddy kink with eren, nipple play, fingering, cunnilingus, masturbation, choking, blowjob, handjob, vaginal sex, rough sex, gentle sex, shower sex, standing sex, somno, double penetration, consensual recording, hair pulling, overstimulation, cumming on face, crying from pleasure, titty fucking, slapping, dumbification but on a man !
𝐤𝐫𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐥'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬◞﹒୧ . finally a new fic since january!!!! very SCARED of your reactions because my characterization of the boys isn't that popular so i hope yall will like it <333
˚₊‧꒰ა 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 : 𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧 + 𝐨𝐧𝐲 + 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐞 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
‘Kiss of Life’ by Sade was playing in the restaurant, making you hum along as you cleaned the tables left by the last customers. Nearby, Eren, Ony, and Connie were watching you intently, as usual.
“Shazam that song, she seems to like it,” Eren ordered Connie, nudging him.
Connie lazily looked up from his phone to look at his best friend. “It's Sade. You have no memory, 'Ren. She always hums when one of their songs, come on.”
He still used Shazam to find out the exact name of the song and added it to the ‘sweet baby’ playlist that he, Eren, and Ony had created to catalog all your favorite songs.
“She's wearing a new dress,” Ony noticed. The three boys' eyes ran over your body.
You were wearing a new dress that you had bought the day before. It hugged your chubby body perfectly, stopping halfway up your thick thighs. The pale pink fabric brought out the luminous glow of your brown skin. Made of satin and molding to your curves in the most exquisite way, with thin straps that barely supported your breasts, the ribbon bow at the center of your chest made your sexy outfit cute. Your long braids was tied in a low bun held by a ribbon bow at the back, leaving your pretty round face uncovered. Your eyelids were enhanced with glittery pink eyeshadow, your long false eyelashes made your gaze so seductive, and your lips were glossy, looking so delicious. A literal angel. Eren, Ony, and Connie would eat you up if they could.
Eren adjusted his bulge in his black sweatpants and tried to look away so as not to worsen his erection by staring at you, while Connie and Ony were still staring, completely unashamed of looking like creeps. Your Mary Jane heels clicked on the floor as you walked around the restaurant taking orders from your little notebook, and when you arrived at the three men's table, your eyes lit up, happy to see them.
They were your favorite customers. They'd been coming to eat at the restaurant three times a week for at least a year. You didn't know how they'd managed to always be there during your shifts—Connie had threatened your boss to give him your work schedule—but it was always a pleasure to see them. They always complimented you and were so sweet to you, nothing like the old men who had wives and looked at you with lust in their eyes.
The most intimidating one was Eren. He was always dressed in black with a hood over his head that hid his face, but you could glimpse his neck tattoos peeking out from under his hoodie. His eyes were always hald-lidded and red from weed, staring intensely into your soul when you took his order, sending shivers down your spine. He was known as the university's plug; you'd never used his services, but his deep voice spoke to you so sweetly that you considered buying from him so he could talk to you privately.
The friendliest was Ony. Compared to Eren's dark appearance, Ony exuded light. You would have to be a psychoapth to not to like Ony's intelligence and kindness. He loved fashion and taking care of himself, you both always talked about skincare and clothes. He played basketball on your university team, making him the most popular of the trio. You loved learning about his sport, and hear the passion in his voice when he talked about Lamelo Ball. He was a bit of a star on campus but was the least arrogant man you'd ever met, always smiling softly when you talked to him, making you feel so safe and care for.
The most flirtatious was Connie. You could never look him in the eye when he called you ‘princesa’, joking about how you were the prettiest girl he'd ever seen. You never knew if he called you ‘mami’ just because it was normal for latino men, or if he was actually trying to flirt with you. Like Eren, he often wore his hood up, hiding his eyebrow piercings, but he wasn't as intimidating. He always had a teasing glint in his eyes that made you flutter.
“Hey,” you said shyly, approaching their table.
As always, Eren was stoned out, his pupils dilated as he looked at you, making your spine tingle. Ony’s lips curved into a smile, clenching his tattooed hand to bump his fists against yours.
You didn’t have any friends because of your social anxiety, only Jean as a boyfriend, so it always made you happy when they treated you like one of their own, even though they were just regular customers you sometimes ran into at university.
“The usual?” you asked, already knowing what they were going to order. A cheeseburger with fries for Ony (don’t tell Reiner, his coach, that he loves that), a steak with fries for Eren, and a salad for Connie.
“No, I want something sweeter today,” Connie replied, leaning back against the back of his chair. Eren smirked, understanding perfectly what his best friend really wanted.
“You just want dessert today?” You tilted your head.
Ony’s eyes softened; you looked so cute with your head cocked to the side.
“Nah.” Connie’s voice grew seductive. “Just you.”
Your autistic brain, which didn’t quite grasp irony and sarcasm, made you wear a confused expression. “Hm, what do you mean?”
Connie just licked his lips, his gaze lingering on your fat thighs. “Nothing, mami.”
“Is that a new dress?” Ony asked, tugging at the hem. “You always wear frilly dresses.”
“Yes!” you exclaimed, enthusiastic and all smiles. You loved fashion so much; you were happy that Ony, who was also a fashion boy, noticed your new clothes. “My boyfriend said frills were childish, so I’m trying out a new style.”
The trio frowned and looked at each other, silently saying, “We should kill that motherfucker.”
“Break up with him,” Eren advised, his face hard.
You shook your head, your heart squeezing painfully at the thought of leaving the only man who accepted your autism without judging you. “N-No, it’s okay.” You looked at your feet, your lips trembling as you realized that the only reason you were with Jean was because he didn’t make you feel different from other girls, not because you actually loved him. You needed so much validation from others.
Ony caressed your thigh, sliding his hand up under your dress to grasp the plushness.
“Hey, it’s okay, baby. ‘Ren is kidding.’”
“I’m dead serious, man.”
Ony's gentle caresses on your skin relaxed you, and your autistic brain didn't really grasp that this was inappropriate contact between friends. You just thought he was being kind. Your face softened, and Ony took a perverse pleasure in exploiting your lack of understanding of social cues.
After the chef prepared their meals, you brought them. As you placed the tray on their tables, you dropped a glass, which shattered. You apologized and bent down to pick up the shards, the skirt of your dress lifting up. Eren glanced at your ass, now visible to everyone, lingering on the way your panties molded your folds. His gut twisted in arousal.
“Connie, take a picture,” Eren whispered.
“I’m your lapdog or something? I only like orders from her, idiot,” Connie muttered but silently took a picture of your body under your dress. They had a whole dossier like that. Photos of you smiling at other customers, photos of you space-outing, photos of you studying in the university library… They were perverts. And stalkers. They didn't really care that it was wrong.
When you finally picked up your mess from the floor, you gave them a shy smile that accentuated their secret erections before walking away.
What a cute angel. You had no idea these men were devils.
────────
'I saw Jean with a girl at a frat party, I'm so sorry sweetheart I think he's cheating on you :(('
Your stomach dropped when you saw Sasha's text message, your world crumbled in minutes.
It wasn't possible.
You and Jean had been together for two years. You'd experienced all your firsts with him. He was the first boy who didn't think you were too much, the first boy who didn't seem to see your autism as a burden, the first boy who made you believe that a weird girl like you could finally be loved. He couldn't have cheated on you. Jean loved you. He told you every day. You weren't too much for him. Please, you hope it was a misunderstanding.
You got out of bed, where you'd been studying your botany books, and went to your closet. You'd never been to a frat party because your social anxiety made it difficult for you. Places where there were too many people scared you too. You preferred to stay safe in your apartment, in your bed with satin sheets and stuffed with plushies.
You slipped into a pink denim skirt, a matching bustier top, and your white Naked Wolfe platform boots. You let your long pale pink goddess braids cascade down your back, hoping your outfit was cool enough for a frat party and people wouldn’t overdose with all the pink on you.
Sasha sent you the address, and you left your apartment with a knot in your stomach.
A two-year relationship couldn't end like this. Jean loved you, right? You weren't some unlovable woman who was going to end up alone for the rest of her life, were you?
You clutched the strap of your bag, looking at the floor as you entered the frat house. You didn't want to see the sea of students; it would trigger a panic attack. Rap music blasted from the party's big speakers; maybe a Big Boogie song. People laughed and yelled along to the lyrics. The smell of alcohol, tobacco, and marijuana were everywhere, and you felt like you were in hell. There were too many stimuli all around you, enveloping you and making your brain confused, unable to function properly.
You raised your head, your heart pounding. You had to look around to find Jean. You inspected the ground floor, trying to ignore how your body stiffened when you brushed against the sweaty bodies of the dancers. You hated physical contact because of your autism; you needed to be in a comfortable environment to be touched because of your sensory issues. Sex needed to be gradual.
And then, as you climbed the stairs, reaching the first floor, you saw him.
Pressing Mikasa's body against the wall, his head buried in her neck, his hips grinding into her.
You stood paralyzed, watching them, your heart aching.
You knew Mikasa well. She was a goth girl who was in the same major as Jean. You'd already seen them hanging out together, and Jean had told you she was just a friend.
You didn't yell that he was an asshole. You didn't try to separate them.
You turned around, went downstairs, and left the fraternity house to sit on the sidewalk.
Was it because she understood sarcasm and didn't need the same jokes repeated to her to get the humor?
Was it because she knew how to be quiet when she was passionate about something instead of yapping for hours about a topic nobody cared about, annoying everyone around you?
Was it because she didn't shut down when she was upset?
Was it because she knew how to recognize her feelings when she experienced strong emotions instead of being unable to speak and explain what she felt?
Was it because she didn't need childish things like plushies for comfort?
Was it because she was interested in grown-up things instead of being obsessed with dolls?
You wrapped your arms around your knees and let the tears flow.
As always, because of your autism, you never knew what you were feeling and struggled to identify your emotions. Was it heartbreak? You weren't even in love with Jean. He was just a boy who gave you attention when everyone else rejected you.
No, it was failure.
Failure because you were both not enough and too much. You just wanted to curl up in bed, hug your plushies tightly, and forget that you were an unlovable woman.
To make matters worse, a torrential downpour soaked your clothes, making them wet and sticky, sending shivers of discomfort down your spine. You hated it when your clothes felt too tight because of your sensory issues; it almost hurt and could cause meltdowns.
A flashback of Jean telling you he loved you in the missionary position and that you were his favorite girl intensified your tears.
Could you really blame Jean?
Who would want a girl like you?
A shy girl who was scared of eye contact, never spoke in public, and barely managed to hold a conversation without getting distracted.
You wished you were a normal girl. You wished you were better at hiding your symptoms. You wished you fit in more easily in society.
“Who stole your smile, mami?” A deep voice boomed in front of you, and someone flicked your forehead. You lifted your teary eyes and met Connie's gaze. Next to him, Eren had his hands in the pockets of his baggy jeans, his hood still pulled up, but you could see his concerned expression. Ony held a coat over you to keep the rain from soaking you even more.
You parted your lips, trying to speak, but no words came out. You felt so many emotions that your brain couldn't function anymore. You were happy to see them; they always brightened your day, but tonight, you were so depressed. You failed at love. You were unlovable.
The combination of your clothes clinging to your skin, the loud music blasting from the frat house, and your pain—you just buried your head in your thighs, ignoring everything around you.
Several muscular arms wrapped around you, lifting you off the ground, and when you raised your head, you were sitting in a car with them.
They drove for a good hour on purpose so you could calm down and refocus on your bodily sensations. The silence of the car calmed your distress for a moment, and you remained silent until they drove you to their apartment.
You were so depressed that you followed them without a word to their place, instead of asking them for a ride home. When you entered their living room, you sat on their couch, staring at the floor.
Eren casually slumped down next to you and put an arm around your shoulders.
“Where is my bubbly girl?”
“Dead,” you muttered.
He chuckled lowly.
“Don’t say stuff like this, I would be very heartbroken if you died.”
“I doubt it.” You were playing with the bottom of your skirt. “You will replace me easily like my boyfriend did when he cheated on me.”
Eren glanced at Ony, seeming to say ‘emotional stuff is for you, man’, and Ony sat down next to you. He placed his hand on your thick thigh, squeezing the plushness, his voice gentle.
“He cheated on you?”
You nodded, silently. There was nothing else to say.
“You don’t feel like you can change him and the need to go back to him like some abused women do?” Connie asked, standing with his hands in the pockets of his pants.
“Not really. I think it’s clear I wasn’t the right woman for him.”
“You mean, he wasn’t the right man for you,” Eren corrected.
“No.” You shook your head. “I don’t blame him.”
Connie tsked.
“Princesa, you talk like those abused women.”
“Yeah,” Ony joined the conversation, “I don’t like how you’re talking right now, mama.”
Your eyes watered again as you thought of all the reasons Jean was right to cheat on you.
“You don’t understand,” you sniffed.
Eren leaned against you, his warm breath caressing your neck as he spoke into your ear, his deep voice making you shiver.
“Then explain, sweetheart.”
Ony kissed the tears that were running down your chubby cheeks, and you suddenly felt strangely cared for. Like a warm blanket over your bruised heart. Wrapped in gentle warmth. In the light of affection, not the darkness of rejection.
Maybe they'll understand if you explain? Maybe you weren't really alone in the world?
“I was homeschooled because I had school phobia,” you said shyly. They all listened attentively without saying a word. “I didn't understand the children around me, so it created anxiety. I didn't learn how to mask my autism because I was never in contact with the outside world and my parents were overprotective. So, I just… live my life without hiding my symptoms.”
“That's actually a good thing, you're sincere,” Connie commented, kneeling down to rest his head on your lap. You ran your hands over his bleached buzzcut, your autistic brain fascinated by the feel of his short, freshly shaved hair. Heat rushed to your cheeks when you realized you were the center of attention, making you even more timid than you already were.
“Not really,” you hesitated, “you need to mask your autism to fit in. Only people who want to be outcasts don’t mask it.”
“I’m an asshole, I don’t try to soften up for people, and I have a very good social life,” Eren grumbled, absolutely disagreeing with what you were saying. You didn’t need to perform a personality that wasn’t yours to be accepted; just being yourself was enough.
“That’s right, Eren is the worst person I know.”
Eren glared at Ony who had said that, his brown, lidded eyes shooting daggers, but Ony smirked at him.
“What’s your point, mami? Are you saying Jean cheated on you because you’re not masking your autism?” Connie ignored these two best friends, focused on your suffering.
Your breath hitched when you gazed into his eyes and saw only care, concern, and affection.
“I’m just saying… Maybe if I was a normal girl, maybe he wouldn’t—”
“You know what to do when a boy cheats on you?” He cut in.
You shook your head.
“You show him you’re wanted elsewhere.” He lifted the hem of your skirt to place kisses on your plush thighs, his lips soft against your skin.
“W-Wait,” his kisses made you tickle, “Connie, you’re—”
“Get revenge on that bastard with us.” Eren buried his head in your neck, and your body warmed as you felt his hot tongue on your flesh. Ony slipped his hand under your top to knead one of your breasts. His hand was so large it enveloped it perfectly, making you flustered.
Your brain was in overdrive. Just seconds before, you had been crying because you were suffering from your disability, and now three hot men were kissing and touching you intimately.
An hour ago, you would have pushed them away because you had a boyfriend, but now?
Your freaky side had awakened, your cunt throbbing at the thought of letting yourself be manhandled by three men.
“How do I get revenge?” You whispered, your voice sounding innocent as if you weren't squeezing your thighs together to hide the smell of your arousal from Connie.
“You know damn well, sweetheart,” Eren chuckled before catching a piece of your skin between his teeth and sucking it vociferously. A wave of heat snaked through your lower abdomen and up your upper body, warming your entire being.
Your cheeks burned, feeling slutty for even liking the attention the three men were giving you.
Connie took his phone out of his jeans pocket, turned on the camera to record a video. He spread your legs and lifted your skirt, filming your clothed pussy where a wet spot resided.
“You’re gonna show that dumbass that if he doesn’t want you, other men will take good care of you,” he asserted, rubbing his fingers on the darker part of your panties, making you shiver.
You didn't think Jean would really care if you were getting laid by other men; he'd already shown enough that he didn't give a damn about you. But you said nothing, because part of you was thrilled at the idea of a foursome.
When you were 18, you had a list of things you wanted to experience once you were cured of your social anxiety. Group sex was one of the things on the list. You were a freaky girl, what can you say? It was time to make one of your dreams come true.
“You’re not gonna eat her out before me,” Eren pushed Connie’s head from between your legs.
“Nobody likes chubby women more than me, so yeah, I’m gonna eat her out first.” Connie bit Eren’s hand before nibbling at the inside of your thighs. “Right, baby? Nobody likes your body more than me?” He looked up at you, his voice sultry.
Before you could answer, Eren’s hand wrapped around your throat, pulling you closer. You gasped, your breath coming in the tightness of the pressure, and when you turned your head toward him, his intense eyes made you swallow hard. There was something terrifying about him in that moment.
“Don’t even answer his question, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. I love you more than him.” He crushed his lips against yours, forcing his tongue into your mouth. An electric current pulsed beneath your skin. You closed your eyes, enjoying the intensity of the kiss. There was something about Eren's intimidating aura that made you want to be an obedient girl, fulfilling his every desire and simply pleasing him. You moaned into the kiss, his tongue tangling with yours, kissing you as if he had something to prove. His hand tightened around your throat, making sure you knew who was in charge.
When he pulled away, your eyes fluttered open. His gaze was burning hot, and you almost wanted to tell everyone to leave so he could kiss you like that all night.
Ony's eyes narrowed when he saw the interaction between you and Eren. That bastard. Eren had always been possessive; it didn't surprise him that he was trying to monopolize you.
There had always been a kind of tension between the three boys. As many people said, there was always a duo in a trio, and that was the case with them. Ony and Connie always teamed up to annoy Eren, ragebaiting him and provoking his anger issues.
Now that they were in love with the same girl, it was a race to see who would be your favorite. Ony could no longer count on Connie to beat Eren; he had to assert himself.
While Eren was dominant, Ony was the gentlest man alive. Most of his exes had left him because he was too nice, but he wasn't heartbroken. He didn't want to become a bully like Eren to be appreciated for who he truly was. He was going to find a girl who would find comfort in his kindness, not get bored by his loving caresses, and be satisfied by his gentle side. He was determined to make sure that girl was you.
“Stop choking her, that's not how you treat the girl of your dreams.”
“I touch her however I want. She seems to like it, doesn't she ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚?”
You looked back and forth between Eren and Ony, silent before giggling softly.
“I like you both.”
“Nah, you need to choose someone.” Eren’s hand around your throat moved down to caress your pudgy belly beneath your top, and he sucked on your earlobe. Ony lifted your top to just above your breasts before leaning down to take your nipple in his mouth. You didn't even think about sucking in your stomach or trying to position yourself in a way that would lessen the sagness of your breasts. You were comfortable, felt pretty under their hands and lips, your body hot all over.
Connie slapped your thigh.
“Stop focusing on these useless men, mami,” he muttered.
He caressed your clothed core, making gentle back-and-forth movements that transformed into circular motions around your clit. His hot breath on you, his intense gaze, and his calloused fingers against you were an explosive cocktail that already had you trembling.
“Sensitive as fuck,” he chuckled. “Autism or you’re just needy?”
“Both,” you breathed shyly.
The wet patch grew larger as Connie played with your clothed pussy. A frenzy took hold of your body. The atmosphere was perfect, the touches were intentional and tailored to your needs; you didn't feel overwhelmed by the sensory stimulation. Ony's mouth on your breast, Eren's teeth on your lob, and Connie's fingers pressing against you… It was so simple, yet perfect.
You rocked your hips against Connie's hands. “I want more, please.” Your neediness was barely concealed in your voice.
Connie smirked. “Yeah? What does my girl want?”
"Um… You know what I want," you whispered, feeling so shy you would have hidden under the sofa if you could. Being a shy, introverted girl in a freak body was a nightmare. You wanted to be slutted out so badly but struggled to get there.
"You have no game, Connie," Eren mocked, his hand still gently caressing your stomach. His petty laugh was hoarse and sent waves of pleasure into your center.
Connie ignores his best friend and slowly took off your panties. You hated thongs and very thin panties with your sensory issues, you were glad nobody made fun of your plain pink cotton underwear.
When he looked at your bare pussy, he had the same glint he had when he called you a ‘tremendo mango’ at the restaurant. For many weeks, you thought it was a cute way of showing appreciation with a fruit metaphor before googling and realizing it was a compliment on your looks in Cuba.
“So pretty.” The tip of his fingers wandered over the gossy folds just to feel your wetness and touch your cunt swollen with desire and expectation.
“Do you like sexual stimulation?” Ony asked gently, his tongue curling around your other brown nipple.
“Isn’t that what we’re doing?” You said, clueless, shivering again at Eren’s open-mouthed kisses on your neck.
“I mean sex toys and temperature play.”
Your lips parted in anticipation.
“If it’s gradual and we stop when it’s too much, I think it’s okay,” you smiled.
Ony was jealous of Connie at that moment because he would have eaten you for days for that cute expression.
Ony left the room, already missing his tongue on your body. But Eren’s on your neck was divine. He wasn’t ashamed to devour your neck, sucking on the bits of skin he had caught between his teeth, making you dizzy.
Connie set up his phone so he could film you and have his hands free. He sank his fingers between your lips, parting them, and the way he inspected your flesh made you nervous, but the sensation was so good, he chuckled every time you clenched your thighs too much.
“Focus on the top, please, Connie,” you said, trembling with longing to feel his touch on your clit.
“Nah. You’re not dominant enough for my submissive side, I’m bored.”
You widened your eyes as he withdrew his fingers and, in a panic, you grabbed his head, pressing it against your pussy. The vibrations of his laughter against you sent waves of electricity through your body, and when his tongue lapped through the folds, you saw stars. Ony returned with mysterious toys in his hands and glared at Connie, who had the chance to taste you first. You thought Ony was going to use the objects on you, but he sat down next to you and resumed sucking your nipples greedily, as if preparing you and testing waters. One hand on Connie's buzzcut, pressing it against you, the other on Ony's short black hair—with a fresh new fade because he doesn't play about his appearance, just like you (#besties)—you felt like a queen with her loyal maids existing to please you.
Eren had practically become a vampire with all the little bites he'd made on your neck.
"I could eat you up," he whispered, nuzzling you. "Why do you smell so good?"
“Well, to make perfume last longer, it’s recommended to start with a cream and then layer it with oils, butters, mists, and even Vaseline so it lasts longer. You also need a perfume with a high concentration, not just an eau de toilette—”
He bit you so hard you let out a pained moan.
“Nerdy ass.”
“She’s right, though,” Ony joined the conversation, leaving your nipples alone. “Men need to stop with cheap cologne and buy pure perfume. They buy Savage by Dior and are still surprised they don’t have game.”
“Not everyone is a self-care nerd like you, Ony,” Eren chuckled. “Opinion on Maison Crivelli?”
“You’re trying too hard to be niche, just buy Creed Aventus or some Armani stuff.”
“It’s $300, dumb ass.”
“You’re a rich plug, ‘Ren. But I would buy it for you if you weren’t the ban of my existence.”
“Is this… What they call ‘bromance’?” you added to the conversation in a frail voice because the way Connie was eating you out… You tried not to make a fool of yourself by whimpering like a dog in heat.
“More like rivalry,” Eren said, mock-disdain in his voice.
“He’s jealous because I’m taking care of you while he’s hurting you with his teeth,” Ony teased, clipping a nipple clamp to your little finger to check if the intensity of the fixed pressure and tension wasn’t too overwhelming. After receiving your blessing, he clipped them to your nipples, the silver chain connecting them contrasting with your princess-like appearance.
It felt a little painful… but the pain was exquisite, a sensation you hadn’t experienced before. You were discovering a masochistic side to yourself today.
“She looks so pretty like this,” Eren murmured, staring at your body. “I feel like I’m going to ruin her if I touch her more.” He put a little distance between you to unbutton his jeans and free his heavy erection.
Connie stopped eating you out for a moment. He collected a lot of your arousal on his hand to spread it on Eren's dick, making masturbation easier. You looked at Eren, amazed that he wasn't bothered by his best friend touching his cock. He smirked.
"Brotherhood, baby."
You burst out laughing but ended up moaning as Connie went back into business.
Ony and Eren glanced at each other, both captivated by the way you arched your back on the couch, your chest rising and falling, your lips agape.
Ony kissed your arm, along the length of it, as Eren shamelessly stroked his dick while staring at you.
"Ony, you need to fuck her first. I'm going to overwhelm her, I'll save my turn for last," Eren proposed, his voice raspier as his hand worked itself over.
"I like the way you're thinking," Ony smiled against your skin, happy to be the first. Connie's tongue traced around your clit. He was having fun. Sometimes he pressed the tip of his tongue against your clit without moving, to make you whimper; sometimes he made circles over it to make you tremble; or most of the time he avoided touching it so as not to overstimulate you and lapped through the folds. The combination of Ony's kisses returning to your neck, the nipple claws, Connie's tongue, and the sounds of Eren's hand rubbing together made you feel like you were overheating, until you finally exploded. It wasn't spectacular; your autism made you struggle to show big emotions on your face, but Connie and Ony caught the way your body was wracked with spasms and your lip was bitten.
"Now get out of the way." Ony pushed Connie aside, who was laughing at his best friend's excitement.
Connie got up from the floor and picked up his phone to be the cameraman again. Ony laid you down on the couch, resting your head on Eren's lap. Eren smirked at you, looking down at you, his erection just next to your shy face.
“Are we going to do double penetration at some point? Because I need to be prepared, it can hurt,” you said softly, anxiously. Your autistic brain needed to know all the preparations and plan everything in advance so you wouldn't be surprised when it happened. You constantly needed clear instructions and reassurance.
The three of them let out a quiet laugh.
Eren used the hand that didn't touch his length to stroke the top of your head.
“You are prepared, don't worry.”
Ony removed his clothes, and your jaw dropped at the sight of all the tattoos that adorned his dark brown skin, making him look intimidating and even sexier now. He lay on top of you, the hard planes of his body pressed against your soft curves. You felt the definition of his muscles against you, the proof of his dedication to his sport.
His head above you, his beauty and his handsomeness made your cunt clench.
“Hey,” you whispered softly.
“Hey.” He smiled wrapping your thick thigh around his waist. “How do you want it, love?”
You wrapped an arm around his neck, pressing him against you. “Slow and deep.”
“I’m gonna give you that.”
“I’m not this filming this sappy shit,” Connie grumbled.
“Yeah, they are acting as if my dick isn’t aching right now. The fuck you mean slow?” Eren added.
Ony and you ignored them. He kissed you as he lined his dick to your entrance and pushed his hips in. Your eyes widened at the size difference with Jean, and glanced at Eren, who also had a large one. Feeling full, you had trouble breathing as he bottomed out, and then being able to do it again when he moved his hips backward.
Ony felt Eren’s jealous glare in the back of his head and chuckled.
“Take care of my friend, baby,” he commanded.
With your free hand, you jerked your wrist to jerk Eren's cock, while Ony fucked you. Eren let out a groan of relief at the contact of your hand.
“Such a versatile girl,” Connie teased, making you flustered.
Ony was a precise man. He hated jackhammering during sex. All his thrusts were calculated to please his partner, not just to ejaculate. He was gentle, but incredibly intense. Slow thrusts didn’t mean no hard thrusts. So he angled his hips perfectly so that every time he hit the depth of your pussy, he struck a sensitive spot that made your chubby body tremble even if his pace was slow. The way your curves jiggled with his every move was mesmerizing, and all three men’s eyes in the room were fixed on you.
Your hand ran along Eren’s length, squeezing sometimes, stroking most of the time, as you moaned because of Ony fucking you. His hips slammed so hard against you, feeling so good, while still being gentle; this man was crazy. How was that possible? You hugged him more, wanting to make love with him forever.
Eren’s hand twitched at the top of your head, his breathing ragged. He didn't even contain his arousal for long and let himself cum on your face. You let out a chuckle at the surprise of the action. Ony leaned down to lick some of it on your cheek.
“Why are all of you so gay?” you asked, confused.
“Shhhh,” Ony pressed his lips against yours, continuing his slow love making
“Okay, Ony your time is up,” Eren muttered, punching Ony in the shoulder. Ony groaned, not even that close from release but agreed to withdraw from you. Eren cleaned your face with a tissue before placing a kiss on your forehead.
You let them manipulate your body into whatever position they wanted. You were now sitting on Connie, who had given the camera to Ony, with Eren positioned behind you.
You knew Eren was aggressive. You could feel it in his aura and the way he spoke to people. So, as both dicks slid inside you, your heart pounded with the excitement of being manhandled. It took a little while to adjust to the two cocks inside you, but once you were comfortable, Connie murmured, "Kiss me." You leaned down to give him what he needed.
You rocked your hips, Eren's and Connie's hands on them for the moment. Eren was dangerously calm as you rode Connie, and didn't give him much friction. The sweat that had accumulated on your back intensified as you thought about when Eren would snap and show his true colors.
“Boring,” he finally snapped, grabbing a handful of your braids and pulling them back, making you gasp.
On his knees on the couch, his hips moved back and forth at a punishing pace. Absolutely no attempt at a gradual rhythm to get you used to it; he didn’t care about your whimpers. He took what he wanted, when he wanted it.
Connie kept his hands on your hips, guiding them to gyrate on him. Sometimes, his hands moved up to touch your love handles, kneading your softness.
“The way we don’t need any lube,” Ony joked, moving closer to the trio, nudging his dick against your cheek while filming your flustered reaction. “You think you take three dicks inside you, baby?”
You nodded softly, wanting to please him. Eren released your hair to let you lean down to take Ony’s dick in your mouth. But Eren picked up the pace even more, hand on your back.
You almost choked on Ony’s dick with the aggressiveness of Eren’s thrusts, and the worst part was that Ony pushed his hips anyway. You looked up at him in surprise and he gave you a little smirk, zooming in on your betrayed expression.
“What is it? Your mouth is full of dick, you can’t tell me how betrayed you are that I have a bit of Eren in me. Poor you.”
Ony’s tone became more petty and you moaned on his dick, turned on by this new change of event. You hoped he would still have mostly his gentle side, but you don’t mind his mean side sometimes.
“Bounce that ass, bitch. You’re not doing enough for me,” Eren muttered.
Eren’s frantic pace made you gargling with Ony’s dick, the sound of it making the three men growl. Ony fed you his cock with quick snap of his hips, hitting the deepest spot you can take him. Connie played with your breasts and nipples clamps as he lifted his own pelvic floor to penetrate you deeper. Eren still stroked your braids even though he fucked you like he hated your guts.
The video continued to play, filming the spectacle.
But the camera will never be enough to understand the pleasure you were currently feeling. Hearing Ony groan because of you made you feel powerful. The fact that Eren fucked you like an animal made you let go. And Connie, who was a mix of both but in a submissive way, made you feel understood, since he saw your lack of confidence.
Everything was perfect.
But as always, your disability ruined everything.
Maybe they'll get tired of you like Jean did because of it. You patted Ony's thigh to let him know you wanted to stop, and when the boys realized you were overstimulated, they stopped everything, including the video.
It was like you had needles everywhere, and even the touch of a feather was unbearable. Anxiety and discomfort paralyzed you. You couldn't speak until the sensory overload dissipated, and you just sat on the sofa staring at the floor, extremely embarrassed by how you felt in front of them.
────────
𝐚 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐡 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫…
They weren't making fun of you. They understood what was happening and turned off the lights to reduce sensory input and did breathing exercises with you. You begged them never to mention it again, it was so embarrassing and you felt bad about ruining everything, but they always reassured you that they didn't care.
Now, you were in a polyamorous relationship with them.
It happened so naturally. The day after they sent the video to Jean, you were bombarded with messages from him, but you ended up blocking him on Eren's orders. Sad about your breakup, Ony took you shopping with him, and Connie made you Cuban dishes that catered to your autistic food obsessions to comfort you.
After a few days, you had stopped thinking about Jean because you were always spending time with your new boyfriends.
They were all diametrically opposed, but all perfect for you.
────────
˚₊‧꒰ა 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 : 𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
This should have stayed private between you and Sasha.
When she asked you who your favorite boyfriend was, you told her you loved them all equally for different reasons, but that Ony was the one you felt the most cared for with.
One day, Eren was on your phone for some random reason, and Sasha sent you a TikTok about couples, saying, "That's so Ony, no wonder he is your favorite boyfriend."
You never saw Eren so angry.
No matter how much you explained the nuance of your opinion, he wouldn't listen and was deeply hurt that you were had a favorite in your relationship with them.
Connie was nonchalant, so he couldn't care less, but he wasn't helping to ease the tension in the apartment because Eren had been in a constant sour mood since the incident. During the week you made love individually, and on weekends you had foursomes, but Eren had stopped participating in anything.
Eren always played the bad boy, but he was one of the most emotional men in the world.
But, thinking about it, you understood why he was so hurt.
You and Eren had a somewhat special relationship. It had taken you weeks to get used to calling him by the word he wanted to hear from you, because it was new to you. But he deserved it. He lived up to the word. He had punched a guy at a frat party who had made fun of you for not talking much. He was the one who knew the signs of your sensory overload best. He gave you advice on how to earn more respect. He was all about making yourself respected, protected, and taken care of. A dad.
Of course, he was hurt that you felt more cared for by Ony than with him, just because Ony was gentler. It made him feel bad about his personality, about himself. He didn't want to be the favorite, but he didn't want to be one of the least liked of your quartet either.
“Eren, you're such a child,” you pouted when he continued to ignore you while he played Final Fantasy XV on the big TV in your apartment.
“You literally have stim toys,” he mumbled, not an ounce of gentleness in his voice, his jaw clenched.
“A real daddy wouldn't act like that.”
That's when you annoyed him. He threw his controller onto the couch, abandoning Noctis character, and ran after you. You screamed as he charged toward you and started running all over the apartment. Instinctively, you went into his room—big mistake. Eren locked the door and grabbed your braids, pulling you against his muscular chest. Eren had a sleeper build, thin from the outside, a greek god once naked.
“And a daddy wouldn’t fuck his daughter so what is your point, huh?” Eren mumbled.
You nuzzle his hard chest, not finding the comfort you can find in Connie’s body which is less muscular and softer. “Connie is better for hugging, like a real daddy,” you teased him.
“Strip.”
“Uh?”
“You’re going to learn who is really taking care of you in this house.”
── .✦ 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫…
“I’m so sorry!” you cried, but it didn’t matter since Eren had pushed your face into the pillow. All your pleas, screams, and cries were muffled now. The only thing that could be heard was Eren’s ragged and your flesh bumping against each other. The backshots were crazy, and he wished he could send this to Connie.
“Sorry for what? Disobeying dad? Making fun of me? Be specific because you’ve been a really bad kid lately and it pissed me off,” he panted, picking up the pace, if that was even possible.
Your tears soaked the pillow and intensified as he thrust into you. It felt so good; before Eren, you didn’t know you could have sex like this because of your sensory issues. But it was perfect. Eren didn’t change much. He would always be dominant, and you would always be submissive. He would always choose positions where he was in control, always slap you, choke you, and spank you. It was very brutal, but it was so comforting for you, autistically. You loved routine. Eren's brutality was comforting.
“I love you, I'm sorry for saying Ony was my favorite,” you sniffed, lifting your head as best you could so he could hear you.
“You're only sorry because I'm fucking you to make you say it.”
“No, I—”
“I love Ony. He is the smartest man I know. People only care about his athletic performance, but he has a brilliant brain, very strategic. However,” he grumbled, “my kid can't love him that much.”
“You're right, I'm sorry,” you repeated like a robot because you wanted him to turn you over quickly so you could kiss your favorite angry boyfriend. “You're perfect for me, Eren.”
“Uh,” he smirked, his pace slowing down, “I don’t remember being called this.”
“Stop trying to make me embarrassed. Our relationship is already very weird,” you whispered.
“Ah, you're a hypocrite now? It's just because Connie came back from college a few minutes ago that you're whispering. When he's not there, you easily shout “i feel it in my belly daddy”. You think I'm stupid?”
“Shut your damn mouth, oh my god!” you screamed, mortified that Connie knew what you and Eren had as a dynamic. Connie was a bastard, he was gonna make fun of a dynamic that is deeper than just sex.
A deep chuckle rumbled in Eren’s chest. He pulled your thighs back so that you were lying down and in a prone bone position. He nuzzled your neck. “I accept the apologies of my daugther.”
“Ewwww.”
“Acting you’re not into that shit.”
You laughed and he kissed your skin, making you shiver.
────────
˚₊‧꒰ა 𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧'𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
[messages from ‘princess’s harem 🎀 ’ group chat]
goofiestcubandick69 : i just heard our girl call eren daddy in bed ??????????
lamelo’s left ball : wdym daddy that boy can’t even handle his own emotions
lamelo’s left ball : how he is gonna handle a kid
goofiestcubandick69 : thats what im saying
[...]
you : ummmm can yall forget this okay…….
worstpsychiatricpatient : im actually her dad tho
worstpsychiatricpatient : do you even know what is hyposensitivity in autism
lamelo’s left ball : you’re acting like that’s a fatal character flaw to not know
lamelo’s left ball : admitting you don’t know something is the first step to be smarter
goofiestcubandick69 : no but do she knows you ate your own shit when we were at the nursery
[worstpsychiatricpatient has left the chat.]
goofiestcubandick69 : yeah thats what i thought
you : WTF ????????????????????
────────
˚₊‧꒰ა 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐝 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 : 𝐨𝐧𝐲 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
Studying for exams was torture for your autism.
Exams disrupted all your routines; you now had to care about things you didn't care about, and you didn't dare complain to your boyfriends because you felt like you complained all the time. As if you had a monopoly on suffering. They suffered from exams too, and you didn't want to bother them with your usual autistic complaints.
You were trying not to burst into tears in the university library because of all the academic pressure and the sheer amount of material you had to study.
As you were reviewing your lectures’s notes, someone sat down next to you. A familiar scent of men's cologne made you stiffen as you looked at the person.
"Not sucking three dicks?" Jean smiled, but there was nothing warm in his expression.
“I’ll do what I want, you cheated on me,” you muttered, unsure of yourself, but like Eren and Connie had taught you to be more confident in your comebacks.
“You weren’t exactly the ideal girlfriend. They’ll leave you eventually and realize it too.” You looked away from the brown-haired man to your textbooks, your eyes welling with tears.
It was your biggest fear.
Being a burden to others. That’s why you tried not to complain too much about your autism so as not to bore your boyfriends.
You wanted your boyfriends to be able to talk about your personality first. About your love of pink. About your collection of perfumes and platform boots. About your knowledge of cosmetology. About your rare vintage clothes.
No, they had to tell all their friends during parties that you were autistic so no one would be mean to you because you didn't talk much because of not understanding the world around you and struggling to read the room.
You were chatty with your boyfriends because they had become routines. But anything new was difficult for you to understand, so you struggled to be yourself.
You shouldn't be ashamed of your disability, but a disability did what it did: it handicapped you in life.
"Many autistic people are happily married. My boyfriends are happy with me. You're the only idiot who can't leave me and prefers to be unfaithful," you said in a trembling voice before leaving the university library. You hoped your boyfriend were proud of you for standing for yourself.
────────
When sadness strikes, always turn to Ony. It should be a famous saying.
“Point in my life” by Gucci Mane was playing in the gym, accompanied by the sound of bouncing basketballs. You cheered Ony on as he made baskets for his practice. With each basket, you yelled, and he turned to look at you, laughing. The other people in the stands looked at you as if you were the male-centered protagonist of a romance novel, but you didn't care. Your baby, your man was surely going to be drafted this summer; he deserved all the praise!
When he finished his practice, you went to the locker room with him. You innocently watched all the men getting dressed in front of you, giving you strange looks, waiting to be alone with your lover.
Once alone, Ony d led you to the showers so you could get undressed.
“What’s on your mind? I know these eyes cried, ma’. Don’t fool me,” Ony murmured, kneeling before you when you were finally naked under the shower spray.
“W-What are you doing?”
He pressed your back against the shower wall and lifted one of your legs to his shoulder.
“You don’t know? Pussy eating therapy session.”
You burst into laughter at the absurdity but quickly panted when he buried his nose and mouth deep into wet folds.
“I… I feel like I’m going to burn out from the exams. It’s just too much. I can’t sleep because it stresses me out so much, and on top of that, I’m not doing my usual routines anymore, so I’m not myself anymore,” you paused to let out a moan as his tongue caressed a particularly sensitive spot. “I cry all the time when I study, and I didn’t want to seem like an attention whore by talking to you about my problems.”
Indulging in your arousal, he groaned at the scent of you; it made him lose his mind. He moved his tongue deeper, lapping at you, twisting it inside.
“I’m scared you, Connie and Eren will leaving me because of my autism.”
That made him stop completely, and he looked at you in horror.
“The fuck?”
Thinking about what Jean said made your eyes water, and fed up, you sobbed. Sometimes you laughed, sometimes you cried; these days you didn’t even remember yourself.
“Mama,” he said softly, rising from the floor to embrace you, kissing your cheek wet not from the shower but from your tears. “Who put these shitty ideas in your head?”
“M-My ex…”
“And what did I tell you about that motherfucker?”
“That he was stupid to look at any other woman but me.”
“Exactly, so why do you listen to him?”
“I don’t know, he was as loving as you all, and still cheated.”
“Being loving doesn’t mean shit. He never helped you during a meltdown. We did. A lot. I hope he dies.”
You widened your eyes. “Don’t say that!”
“What are you gonna do with your socially anxious ass to make me stop, huh?”
You pouted. “Nothing…”
“Right, now let me fuck you good, you need it.”
He lifted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist, as he stood pushing you against the wall.
He kissed you as his dick slid in, all his affection communicate through his tongue, his kiss, the way his hips slammed again you.
You wrapped your arms around his neck, your hands stroking his short hair under the shower jet which dampened it into tight curls.
“I feel so safe with you, Ony. Sorry for what I said, I trust you. I’m a bit tired because of school, I think,” you whispered against his lips.
“Yeah? You’re not gonna listen to this dumbass again?”
You shook your head.
“Proud of my sweet girl.”
────────
˚₊‧꒰ა 𝐨𝐧𝐲'𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
[messages from ‘princess’s harem 🎀 ’ group chat]
goofiestcubandick69 : are yall into public sex
you : NO!!!!!!!!!!
worstpsychiatricpatient : yea
lamelo’s left ball : hell no
lamelo’s left ball : nobody looks at my girl like that
goofiestcubandick69 : then why there is a rumor on the campus about our girl looking at naked men with you
worstpsychiatricpatient : thats even gayer than when he licked my cum
lamelo’s left ball : we masturbated together in middle school eren
[worstpsychiatricpatient has left the chat.]
goofiestcubandick69 : man you’re a child
goofiestcubandick69 : and gay
goofiestcubandick69 : ony i didnt forget
goofiestcubandick69 : you put MY girl with naked men
goofiestcubandick69 : tf is wrong with you
lamelo’s left ball : why are we focused on ME when SHE was in my male locker room ?????
goofiestcubandick69 : mi princesa can do no wrong
goofiestcubandick69 : soy su perro
you : exactlyyyyyy
[worstpsychiatricpatient is back in the chat.]
worstpsychiatricpatient : two dumb bitches telling each other ‘exactlyyyyyy’
[worstpsychiatricpatient has left the chat.]
goofiestcubandick69 : this man is true to his @
goofiestcubandick69 : don’t call mi princesa a bitch u motherfucker
goofiestcubandick69 : but call me a bitch if you want to i’m into that
you : ????????
lamelo’s left ball : he has the nerve to call eren gay
────────
˚₊‧꒰ა 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 : 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐞 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
If Eren was your angry boyfriend, Ony your gentle lover, Connie should be your sexy latino man?
That's what everyone thought about Connie.
On campus, the girls with a latino men fetish are interested in him because of his accent. His tattoos. His piercings. His immigrant status. He knows these white american girls well, girls who see latin America as a land full of sexy men, who think latin culture is just about aesthetics. So he created three phases to find the right people for him.
First, phase number 1, which attracts all the girls: The laid-back latino.
Sweatpants. Tattoos. Laid-back persona. Stoned out a lot. Hanging out with the university's plug Eren and the university's star, Ony. Calling any girl 'mami'. The girls love it, adore it, and can't get enough.
Then, he reveals a little bit of himself, and that's when things get out of hand.
There's his "goofy" phase, when he shows how weird and funny he can be, even if it makes him less of a stereotypical latino man.
99% of the girls leave or get the ick.
That's how he knew you were the one because you never thought much of his goofy behavior sometimes and just went along with him. He feels so normal with you; he doesn't have to perform some racist stereotype with you, you just accept him with all his facets.
Now, he can finally show his final layer: his submissive side.
────────
Being the dominant one in the relationship was so much fun.
Of course, you liked being manhandled by Eren, or being praised by Ony.
But it was just as exciting as getting what your submissive man wanted tonight.
“Do whatever you want to do to me in my sleep. If I don’t wake up with you fucking me, I’m gonna blow up the apartment.”
You and Connie looked at each other during dinner, even when you were on Eren’s lap or in Ony’s arms. You both knew you were going to have fun tonight when everyone was asleep. You were going to have fun when he was asleep.
You crept into his room so as not to wake him. You climbed onto the bed and noticed he wasn’t wearing a blanket or a shirt. You chuckled; he was really waiting for this.
You leaned down to kiss all over his chest and abdomen, your tongue flicking around his navel piercing and all his tattoos.
His body shivered, but he didn't open his eyes.
You stripped him of the rest of his clothes and spat on your bare breasts, then smeared the saliva on the inside of your breasts. Your mouth watered at his hard pierced dick that reacted to your kisses. Big. Thick. Exactly the type of dick you wanted to rub your tits around.
You gently palmed his cock before placing it between your breasts. You added more saliva to your mess as you kneaded your breasts around him. The situation was oddly stimulating sensorially with the softness of your chest and the humidity of your saliva.
“Mami, I missed you,” Connie murmured, voice still sleepy as he rubbed his eyes.
You gave him an affectionate smile. “What do you want tonight?”
“Uh, you never learn? My body belongs to you. You’re the one who chooses everything.”
A fire snaked through your belly, igniting your insides.
You stopped what you were doing even though you saw disappointment in his eyes, but they lit up when you sat on his pelvis, sliding down his dick.
“Oh hell yeah,” he moaned, his hands coming to your hips but you slapped him.
“I didn’t say you could do that, Connie,” you chided him. “Put your hands above your head, I’ll slap you if you move them.”
His gut twisted with arousal, he absolutely nodded and obeyed with enamored eyes.
You couldn't say no to people but were able to slap your man, the duality of an autistic freaky woman.
You leaned down to stabilize yourself on his shoulders. Lifting yourself off his cock, you slid down again brutally, making him gasp and whine for more. When he whined too much, you slapped him and told him to stop. He almost cummed and bit his lower lip till it bled not to.
You did everything you wanted to Connie. A slow pace when your legs were tired. At fast pace, fucking yourself on his dick. Sometimes, you turned over and he thanked God women existed just to see your ass gyrating in front of him.
When you were the dominant one, you experienced less sensory overload during sex, that’s why you loved having sex with Connie so much.
You rode him, rocking your hips against him, your tits bouncing, looking like a voluptuous succubus who haunted him at night. It made him lose his mind, and spouting nonsense, his brain going dumb.
“Yesterday I genuinely cried because I wanted to eat you out but it was Ony’s day, so I ate so many sweets just to feel you on my tongue.”
Your heart fluttered and you leaned down to kiss him. “You’re so cute and weird, Connie.”
He forgot about the rules and just hugged his favorite girl ever.
────────
˚₊‧꒰ა 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐞'𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
[messages from ‘princess’s harem 🎀 ’ group chat]
worstpsychiatristpatient : how do you cope with the fact that your girl is a rapist
you : WTFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF
you : ???????????
goofiestcubandick69 : she cant rape me since i am her slave
goofiestcubandick69 : my body is her propriety
worstpsychiatristpatient : not only my girl is a rapist
worstpsychiatristpatient : but she uses mind control
goofiestcubandick69 : exactly
goofiestcubandick69 : my mind is controlled by her
goofiestcubandick69 : i always think of my girl
lamelo’s left ball : i’m employed what happened
you : eren discovered somno
[lamelo’s left ball is now offline.]
goofiestcubandick69 : thats why i love ony
goofiestcubandick69 : he knows how to mind his own business
worstpsychiatristpatient : just so you know i called the police
worstpsychiatristpatient : mind u i’m the only one who have a real job and a dangerous one at that
worstpsychiatristpatient : so fuck u lamelo wannabe
────────
˚₊‧꒰ა 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 : 𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐬 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
“Ma’, you’re going to hurt yourself.”
Ony took the star you were trying to put on top of the fake pink tree Connie had found on some niche website. He placed it where you wanted it.
“There is no way, it’s really the only color we will ever see at Christmas,” Eren grumbled, rummaging through the Christmas decorations you and Connie had bought weeks earlier, appalled by all the pink in them. “Christmas is green and red!”
“Well, it’s my girl’s world so I don’t care about Christmas rules,” Connie mumbled, taking a drag of his blunt, sitting on the couch.
“And you guys also have pink Christmas pajamas to wear!” you said excitedly, pulling out the pink pajama sets with snowflake patterns.
Eren winced, Connie gave a thumbs-up, and Ony chuckled. But they wore them all, just for your beautiful eyes.
It was going to be a fun Christmas, but you wouldn't trade places for anything in the world.
Because you were with the three loves of your life. In no particular order. Just the trio of your heart.
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-`♡´- Riding Choso silly in his dorm... ! :: 18+ :: fem!reader ::
Your boyfriend Choso is sprawled on his narrow dorm bed, sheets already twisted beneath his back, sweat glistening on his pale skin. The room is dim, only the desk lamp casting a soft glow over his messy hair and those dark amber eyes that keep fluttering half-shut every time you shift. His roommate’s out for the night, but the thin walls mean voices carry, and Choso knows it. He’s biting his lip so hard it’s turning white, trying so damn hard to stay quiet like a good boy.
You’re straddling him, thighs spread wide over his hips, your slick cunt already stretched around the thick head of his cock. He’s so hard it aches, fat and heavy, pulsing inside you as you sink down another inch. A broken little whimper slips from his throat before he can swallow it.
“Shh,” you whisper, voice low and sweet and so fucking mean. You roll your hips slow, letting him feel every ridge as you take him deeper. “Be quiet, baby. Your friends are right next door. You don’t want them to hear how loud you get when I fuck you, do you?”
Choso’s hands fly to your waist, fingers digging in like he’s drowning. “F-fuck… I’m trying,” he gasps, voice cracking. His cock twitches hard inside you, leaking more precum into your dripping heat. “You feel too good… can’t… ah—”
You cut him off by lifting yourself up until just the tip is kissing your entrance, then dropping back down in one smooth glide. The wet sound of your pussy swallowing him is obscene in the quiet room. Choso’s head snaps back against the pillow, a strangled moan tearing out of him before he slaps a hand over his own mouth.
“See?” you tease, grinding down deep, clit rubbing against his pelvis. You lean forward just enough to let your tits brush his chest, nipples hard and dragging over his skin. “That’s what happens when you’re loud. They’ll know exactly what a needy little slut you are for your girlfriend’s cunt.”
He whines behind his palm, hips jerking up involuntarily. “Please… don’t stop,” he mumbles, words muffled. His eyes are glassy, cheeks flushed dark. “I need it… need you riding me harder.”
You smile, all sugar and cruelty, and start bouncing properly now. Up and down, slow at first, then faster, the slap of skin on skin growing louder no matter how much he tries to hold back. Every time you sink down, his fat cock splits you open so perfectly, dragging against that spot that makes your toes curl. Choso’s breathing is ragged, little punched-out sounds escaping with every thrust.
“Quiet,” you remind him again, voice dripping honey as you clench around him on purpose. “Or I’ll have to stop and leave you like this, all hard and dripping and desperate.”
“No—no, please,” he begs, voice breaking into a whimper. His fingers bruise your hips, trying to pull you down harder. “I’ll be good, I swear… just don’t stop fucking me.”
You ride him like that for a while, mean little laughs slipping out when he fails miserably at staying silent. His moans keep spilling out, deep and wrecked, turning into these pretty, desperate noises that make your pussy flutter around him. Then, just when he’s starting to lose it, you lift off completely. His cock slaps wetly against his stomach, shiny with your juices, throbbing angrily in the cool air.
Choso lets out a devastated sound, eyes flying open. “Wait—baby, what are you—”
You swing your leg over and turn around, settling into reverse cowgirl. The view is perfect for him now. You reach back, spread your ass a little with one hand, and let him watch as you line his fat cock up with your dripping hole. Slowly, so slowly, you sink down, letting every inch disappear inside you while he stares.
“Oh my god,” Choso groans, long and filthy. His hands immediately grab your hips again, thumbs pressing into the dimples at the small of your back. “Look at that… your pretty cunt taking me so deep. Fuck, I can see everything.”
You lean forward, arching your back like a lazy kitten, ass up and chest pressed to his thighs. The new angle has his cock hitting even deeper, bullying right against your cervix with every tiny shift. “Then fuck me, Choso,” you purr, voice teasing. “Show me how bad you want it. Make me feel it.”
He snaps.
His grip tightens and he starts thrusting up into you, hard and fast, the bed creaking under the force. The wet slap of his hips meeting your ass fills the room now, no holding back. Every stroke is deep, punishing, his balls smacking against your clit. You can feel him losing control completely, hips stuttering, cock swelling even thicker inside you.
“Shit—shit, you’re so tight,” he pants, voice raw. “Taking my cock like such a good girl… fuck, I’m gonna—ah—gonna cum if you keep squeezing me like that.”
You moan softly, pushing back to meet his thrusts, letting him fuck up into you like an animal. “Then cum, baby. Fill me up. But don’t you dare get loud. Your friends might hear what a mess you make when you’re buried in my pussy.”
Choso’s rhythm falters, a broken cry ripping from his throat despite your warning. “Can’t… can’t help it,” he sobs, pounding harder. “You’re too much… too wet, too perfect… fuck, I love you, I love your cunt so much—”
He’s gone now, hips snapping up wildly, chasing that edge. You clench around him on purpose, milking him, and that’s all it takes. Choso buries himself to the hilt with one last desperate thrust, his cock pulsing as he spills hot and thick inside you. Rope after rope, flooding your pussy while he whimpers and moans your name like a prayer, trying and failing so miserably to stay quiet.
You ride out the last of his orgasm, grinding back slow, feeling him twitch and leak inside you. When he finally collapses back against the sheets, chest heaving, you glance over your shoulder with a wicked little smile.
“See what happens when you can’t behave?” you murmur, voice soft and teasing. “Next time I might have to gag you… or maybe I’ll just let your friends listen to how pretty you sound when you fall apart for me.”
Choso just whines, pulling you down against him, still buried deep, already half-hard, like the needy boy he is, pressing soft loving kisses along your neck getting oh so desperate for you all over again.
summary — a clingy and sick joe who hates the idea of sleeping away from you
pairing — joe burrow x black!reader
Heavy padded footsteps approaching from down the hall caught your attention as you stood tying up your headscarf. Your boyfriend stood at the bedroom door with a blanket draped over his lengthy frame. You snickered to yourself seeing a piece of tissue paper stuffed in one of his nostril. Such a baby, you thought.
“Babe, come on. You’re really not gonna let me sleep in my own bed?” he whined, leaning against the door frame.
“I’m so serious. You are not about to get me sick with you cause you wanna be clingy.” you shook your head, grabbing the small pillow and throwing it over the bed.
He caught a cold over the weekend after spending a few days away for an event with his foundation. The dramatics began when he woke up on Sunday morning with a sore throat, then a runny nose a few days later.
“Babe, touch my forehead. Is it hot?”
“My back is aching, that can’t be normal for a cold.”
“Can you make that soup I like with the dumplings in them, please?”
You’d think he was on the verge of dying the way he made it seem.
“You know I hate sleeping away from you.” he argued with a slight frown.
He drags his feet in your direction, you feel him press into your behind as you leaned forward to grab another pillow. He snakes his arm around your waist, “This is how you’re going to treat your dying boyfriend?”
You turn your head back at him and slap his chest. “Boy, go somewhere with all that dying stuff. You’re going to piss me off, Joseph.” Turning around in his arms, you look up at him. Staring into his blue orbs you couldn’t help but laugh at the way his bottom lip poked out in a pout.
You stood there for a few seconds pondering on your decision. “Okay, just for tonight.” you gave in, pointing your index finger in his face.
The corners of his mouth turned up in a smile. He presses you closer into his chest with a firm hold around your waist. Leaning in, he attacks your face with quick pecks.
You pull away with a smile on your face, “But, if you get me sick, you owe me a spa day.”
“Anything for you, baby. Now come on, I want to cuddle.” he agreed with your demand without hesitation, pulling you into bed with him.
SYNOPSIS: What was supposed to be a chill night of Truth or Dare with the crew changes the moment Erik gets dared to take a Honeypack. The game continues, but something shifts between him and Y/N — quiet glances and unspoken tension pulling them toward a night neither of them planned.
WARNINGS: 18+ only, SMUT, Dirty Talk, Oral Sex, Use of Aphrodisiac, Light Angst, Alcohol Consumption, etc.
PAIRINGS: Black OC x Erik Killmonger
This was requested by one of my readers. I hope you all enjoy!
——————————————
Y/N pushed the side door open and stepped inside, the cool night air slipping in behind her for a second before the door clicked shut. She set the bottle of Don Julio on the counter with a quiet clink before letting the plastic bag drop next to it. A couple limes rolled out slow, the extra shot glasses clinking together once.
Trey was leaning against the fridge scrolling on his phone. He looked up and smiled the way he always did. “Hey you made it” he said putting the phone down. He came over and gave her a quick one-armed hug. “I was starting to think you bailed on us.”
“Traffic was acting stupid” she said letting out a small laugh. “But I’m here now so you can relax.”
He glanced at the bottle and raised his eyebrows. “Don Julio? Okay fancy. You didn’t have to bring the good stuff we got the house tequila.”
“Yeah but then y’all would be complaining about the hangover tomorrow” she said shrugging as she leaned against the counter. “This way I get to feel responsible for once.”
Trey chuckled. “Fair. You always think ahead.”
Jada came in from the living room. She saw Y/N and her face lit up slow. “Girl” she said crossing the kitchen in a couple steps. She pulled Y/N into a tight hug, rocking her side to side for a second before letting go. “I was literally about to text you. Missed your face.”
“Missed you too” Y/N said hugging back. “You good?”
“Always when you show up with liquor” Jada said stepping back but keeping a hand on Y/N’s arm for a second. She reached for one of the limes rolling it under her palm on the counter. “Trey keeps talking about tacos but he ain’t cut nothing yet. Typical.”
Aaliyah slipped in right behind her. She walked straight over, leaned her head on Y/N’s shoulder for a quick second, then straightened up with a small smile. “Hey boo glad you made it. We were about to start without you.”
Y/N snorted. “Y’all would’ve survived five minutes.”
“Barely” Aaliyah said reaching for the bottle. “This is nice though.”
Trey started slicing a lime the knife making thumps against the wood. “Speaking of nice… Jada brought something else earlier.”
Jada rolled her eyes but she was smiling a little. She reached into her hoodie pocket and pulled out two small gold packets holding them up. “Honey packs. My cousin dropped them off last week swearing they’re the truth. I figured why not bring them. Worst case they taste like candy and we clown each other.”
Aaliyah leaned in eyebrows raised. “Those honey things? You actually brought those here?”
“I brought two” Jada said shrugging. “We’re only four right now. If somebody gets brave later we can split one.”
Trey shook his head still slicing. “I’m good. Last time somebody brought some energy stuff, I ended up fucking my ex.”
Y/N leaned against the counter arms crossed watching them. The kitchen felt small, the low music from the living room drifting in.
Aaliyah looked at Y/N. “Come on let’s get you in there before we start pouring. We got the living room set up. Just waiting on you.”
Y/N grabbed the bottle and twisted the cap off pouring a small splash into each glass.
“Alright” she said handing them out. “Let’s take these first then y’all can tell me how serious this honey-pack plan really is.”
They clinked the glasses quietly threw them back. The alcohol burned smooth going down. Y/N set her glass on the counter and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.
Jada was already reaching for the bottle to pour another round when Y/N glanced at the two gold packets still sitting on the counter.
Y/N nodded toward them. “Don’t this shit make you horny though?”
Jada paused mid-pour then looked up with a slow grin. “That’s the good part girl.”
Aaliyah laughed low shaking her head as she leaned back against the counter. “See that’s why I’m staying far away from those. I don’t need any extra help in that department tonight.”
Trey snorted still focused on the last lime. “Y’all wild.”
Y/N picked up one of the packets turning it over in her fingers. “I’m just saying. If we do this we gotta be ready for whatever happens.”
Jada topped off the glasses again and slid one toward Y/N. “We’re four grown people in a house with no kids around. Whatever happens happens.
Aaliyah took her glass and raised it. “To bad decisions and good company.”
They clinked again and drank.
Jada set her glass down first. “Alright enough stalling. Let’s take this to the living room.”
Y/N grabbed her glass and the bottle following the others out of the kitchen.
Y/N sank deeper into the couch next to Jada. Blankets were tossed over the armrests and pillows were scattered on the floor like someone had kicked them there earlier. The Bluetooth speaker played R&B that vibrated just enough to settle in her chest.
Jada finished shuffling the cards with a quick flick and dealt one to each of them face down. “Lowest card starts. No weak shit tonight. We’re grown, and we’re tipsy. Let’s get into it.”
Aaliyah flipped hers first, a three of hearts, and groaned but smiled. “Me. Truth.”
Jada leaned forward. “When was the last time you came so hard you cried? Details, no skipping.”
Aaliyah bit her lip. “Three weeks ago, maybe. This dude I been seeing had me bent over the bathroom sink, fingers and tongue at the same time. Kept going even after I started shaking. I legit had tears running down my face when I finally came. Couldn’t even stand up straight after.”
Jada let out a loud “Oop,” and fanned herself with her hand. “That’s what I’m talking about.”
Trey shook his head, laughing softly. “Y’all wild already. My turn next, I can feel it.”
He flipped an ace of spades. Jada pointed right at him. “Dare.”
Trey sighed. “Hit me.”
Jada grinned. “Call your ex right now. Leave a voicemail on speaker. Tell him exactly what you miss about his body.”
Trey pulled out his phone, scrolled to the name, hit call, put it on speaker, and waited for voicemail. When the beep came he leaned back.
“Ay, it’s me. Just wanted to say I still think about you sometimes. Miss the way your back looked when you arched for me, the way your thighs squeezed around my head when I had you shaking, how your skin felt under my hands. Shit was fire. Anyway, yeah. Delete this if you want.”
He hung up fast. The room exploded. Trey buried his face in his hands but was grinning wide. Two minutes later his phone buzzed. He read it out loud:
<Boy, delete my number… but call me later.
Everyone lost it again.
Next round Jada got the lowest card. “Truth,” she said before anyone could ask.
Aaliyah jumped in. “Wildest place you ever fucked. Go.”
Jada didn’t blink. “Back seat of my ex-boyfriend’s Charger at the family cookout last summer. Windows fogged up so bad you couldn’t see in, music blasting to cover the sounds. He had me riding reverse with one hand over my mouth so I wouldn’t scream. Almost got caught when my aunt came looking for the ice chest.”
Trey covered his ears dramatically. “I did not need to visualize that, but go off sis.”
Y/N laughed, but the heat crept up her neck. The game was getting hotter and the alcohol made everything feel looser.
Her turn. She flipped a four. “Dare.”
Trey’s grin turned evil. “Send a nude to the group chat right now, crop your face out.”
Y/N rolled her eyes. “Y’all messy.” She lifted her shirt just enough, angled her phone so the lamp light hit her cleavage perfect, snapped it, cropped her face, and sent before she could chicken out.
The group chat blew up.
Jada: “Whew, okay, body tea.”
Aaliyah: “Chef’s kiss, period.”
Trey: “I’m looking respectfully… damn, Y/N.”
Y/N buried her face in her hands for a second. “Shut up, Trey.”
Aaliyah’s dare was next: a blindfolded lap dance to whoever’s phone she grabbed. She tied a blanket around her eyes and got Trey’s phone. She climbed onto his lap slow and rolled her hips into his. Trey sat frozen, hands gripping the couch, “This is why we don’t do blindfolds no more, girl. Get off me,” while everyone else howled.
Y/N got truth again. Jada leaned in. “Be real. Nastiest thing you let a guy do that you secretly loved?”
Y/N took a long sip. “He held my throat while he ate me out. Not choking, just firm, like he was keeping me right there. I came so hard I saw stars.”
Silence hung for half a second, then Aaliyah whispered, “Damn, that’s hot.”
They passed the bottle for another round when Trey’s phone lit up on the coffee table. He read it and chuckled.
“Erik says he’s five minutes out.”
Jada rolled her eyes but smiled. “Finally. I told his ass to hurry up after work. He been acting brand-new since he got back from the military.”
Aaliyah poured fresh shots and slid one toward Y/N. “He’s been texting me all week, miss the crew, miss the vibes.”
The second Erik’s name dropped, Y/N’s stomach plummeted like someone squeezed her insides and let go. She kept her face neutral, took a slow sip, but her fingers tightened around the glass so hard her knuckles paled.
That night flashed back in sharp pieces. She remembered him sitting in her braiding chair, shirtless, his locs half-done and still a little damp from the wash. They were laughing at some stupid story from back in the day while passing the bottle back and forth. She had been focused on twisting the last few locs, trying to keep her hands steady when she felt the shift. The way his eyes changed, getting darker the moment she leaned back to check her work. Then the kiss happened like something that had been building for years. One minute they were talking, the next her shorts were down around her ankles and his mouth was on her. His hands held her thighs open and the low groan he let out against her skin sounded like he had been waiting for this longer than he would ever admit.
Then the texts the next morning. She left them all on read. Couldn’t face what it meant, that she’d been in love with him quietly for years and one night cracked that wide open. So she ignored him until he stopped trying.
Now he was minutes away.
She could already picture him stepping in. Would he look at her normal? Pretend it never happened? Or would one glance pull everything back?
——————————————————————————————
They squeezed in one more round to kill time. Jada got dared to moan the name of the last person she hooked up with for fifteen seconds straight. She did it low and dramatic, drawing it out until Trey was cracking up and Aaliyah was covering her face. Then Trey picked truth and had to admit the last time he got head in a car. He told the story with zero shame making everyone laugh until their sides hurt. Y/N picked dare again and had to send a voice note describing how she liked to be touched. She kept it short and the group lost it when they played it back.
The laughs were still echoing when a firm knock sounded at the front door.
Trey hopped up from the floor. “That’s him. I got it.”
He walked over and opened the door. Erik stepped inside carrying two large pizza boxes stacked on top of each other, the smell of hot cheese and pepperoni filling the room right away. Trey took one of the boxes from him with a grin. “My guy, you came through.”
Erik looked too good. His locs were freshly twisted into neat barrels that framed his face perfectly. He had on a crisp black shirt that hugged his muscular arms and chest, the short sleeves showing off the scars on his biceps. A thick gold chain rested against his collarbone and a matching gold watch gleamed on his wrist. Black joggers sat low on his hips and he rocked a fresh pair of Jordans that still looked box-fresh. The whole fit was simple but it hit different on him, like everything he wore was made to remind you exactly who he was.
He greeted everyone with a small smile showing off his gold fronts. “What’s good, y’all?” He gave Jada a quick hug, then Aaliyah, dapping Trey up properly once the pizza was set on the coffee table.
When he got to Y/N he paused for a second. “Long time no see.”
Before she could respond, he pulled her into a hug. It was tighter than the others. His cologne hit her immediately, that woody scent mixed with something fresh that made her head spin. He smelled so good it was almost unfair. As he held her he leaned in close to her ear.
“Missed you, baby. You been ignoring a nigga.”
He gave her one last gentle squeeze before pulling away. Y/N’s heart was pounding so hard she was sure everyone could hear it, but she just smiled back trying to play it cool while her stomach did flips all over again.
The group settled back in. Erik dropped down on the floor near the coffee table right across from Y/N. He grabbed a slice of pizza, took a big bite, and leaned back on one elbow.
Jada was already reaching for another slice. “About time you showed up. We were starting to think you got lost.”
Erik chuckled, gold flashing again. “Nah, I had to make sure y’all had something to eat. Can’t have my people starving while y’all out here playing nasty games.”
Aaliyah smirked. “Speaking of nasty games, you just missed some wild shit. But we can catch you up real quick if you want in.”
Erik’s eyes flicked over to Y/N for a brief second before he looked back at the group. “I’m down. What we playing?”
The tension in Y/N’s chest tightened even more as the circle reformed with Erik now sitting right across from her. The night suddenly felt a lot heavier and she wasn’t sure how much longer she could pretend everything was normal.
Y/N tried to focus on the slice of pizza in her hand but her appetite was gone. The cheese tasted like nothing while her mind kept replaying that whisper in her ear and the way his arms had felt around her. Erik settled in across from her on the floor with his legs stretched out casually.
Jada wiped her hands on a napkin and grinned at him. “Truth or dare, Erik?”
Erik took another bite of pizza chewing slowly before he answered. “Truth.”
Trey leaned forward. “Bet. Here’s a good one. What’s the nastiest thing you’ve done to a girl that made her shake so bad she couldn’t walk right after?”
The room got quiet for a second. Erik didn’t even hesitate. He looked straight at Y/N while he answered.
“Last time I was with somebody I really wanted… I had her laid back on the couch after she did my locs. I ate her pussy for so long she came three times back to back. Had her thighs squeezing my head so tight I could barely breathe, but I wasn’t stopping. By the time I was done she was shaking so bad she couldn’t even sit up straight. Had to carry her to the bed.”
He kept his eyes locked on Y/N the entire time he spoke. Y/N could feel the heat rushing to her face. She avoided his gaze completely, staring down at the pizza box like it was the most interesting thing in the room. Her hand tightened around her glass as she brought it to her lips and took a long sip of the Don Julio hoping the burn would distract her from the way her body was reacting. Her thighs pressed together without thinking, memories flooding back so strong she almost choked on the liquor. She could still feel his locs brushing her skin, the way his tongue had moved, the low groans he made like he couldn’t get enough.
Jada let out a low whistle. “Damn, Erik. That’s cold.”
Aaliyah laughed. “Three times? Boy, you wasn’t playing.”
Erik just smirked still watching Y/N even though she refused to look up. “What can I say? When I want something, I take my time with it.”
The air in the room felt thicker now, the game suddenly a lot more dangerous with him sitting right there. Y/N took another sip from her glass trying to steady her breathing while her heart raced. She could feel his eyes on her like he was daring her to look back at him.
Jada clapped her hands once. “Alright, let’s make the next part interesting. We got two honey packs in the kitchen. How about we play a quick round of ‘Never Have I Ever’ with a twist? Whoever has done the thing has to drink. Last person with alcohol left in their cup loses and has to take one of the honey packs.”
Aaliyah’s face lit up. “Yes! I’m down for that.”
Trey laughed and reached for the bottle to top off everyone’s glasses. “Bet. But y’all better not gang up on me. I’m innocent over here.”
Erik smirked. “Innocent? Yeah, okay. Let’s run it. I’m not scared of a little honey.”
Jada hopped up and came back from the kitchen with the two small gold packets placing them right in the middle of the coffee table. “These right here. Loser takes the whole packet. No backing out once the game starts.”
They all raised their glasses and started the round. The questions stayed playful at first.
“Never have I ever had sex in a car,” Aaliyah said.
Trey, Jada, and Erik drank right away. Y/N kept her glass still for that one.
“Never have I ever hooked up with someone I met at the gym,” Trey threw out next.
Jada and Aaliyah drank. Erik took a sip, chuckling.
“Never have I ever gone down on someone in the shower,” Jada said with a grin.
Trey and Erik drank. Y/N sipped once.
“Never have I ever had a one-night stand that turned into something more,” Aaliyah said.
Erik drank again, along with Jada.
“Never have I ever recorded myself having sex,” Trey added.
Erik and Aaliyah drank. Y/N took a small sip feeling the liquor warming her up.
“Never have I ever had sex somewhere I could’ve gotten caught easily,” Jada said.
Everyone except Trey drank that time. The laughs were flowing and the cups were getting lower fast.
After a few more rounds, Trey checked the glasses. “Damn… Erik, you’re the last one with a decent amount left, but after that last one you’re basically empty too. Looks like you lose, bro.”
Jada picked up one of the gold honey packets from the table and waved it in the air. “Rules are rules. Loser takes the whole thing right now.”
Erik leaned forward. “Aight, bet. Hand it over.”
Jada passed him the packet. Erik took it, turning the small gold wrapper over in his fingers while the group watched. He glanced around the circle, then ripped it open with his teeth squeezing the golden liquid onto his tongue like it was nothing. He swallowed it down maintaining eye contact with the group the whole time, but Y/N could feel his gaze linger a little longer when it passed over her.
The room erupted in cheers and laughs. Jada clapped. “That’s my dawg!”
Trey grabbed another slice of pizza. “Now we wait and see what that does to you. This should be entertaining.”
Erik just chuckled low, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he set the empty wrapper on the table. He looked completely unbothered, but Y/N noticed the way his jaw tightened just slightly right after he swallowed. She quickly looked away focusing on her own drink again.
———————————————————————————
A couple hours had passed. The pizza boxes were empty and they had moved through Spades, Uno, and were now deep into random drinking games.
Erik had gotten quieter as the night went on. He was still joking with everyone, but he kept shifting his position on the floor.
Trey was dealing the next round when he suddenly paused mid-shuffle. He looked down at Erik’s lap and let out a low chuckle.
“E, you good?” Trey asked nodding toward Erik’s obvious erection straining against his black joggers. “Nigga got a whole tent going on over there.”
The room went quiet for a second.
“Oh shit,” Jada muttered covering her mouth with wide eyes.
Aaliyah burst out laughing and quickly looked away. “Jesus, Erik…”
Erik glanced down at himself then shrugged casually with zero embarrassment. He didn’t try to hide it or close his legs. “Imma handle that later,” he said voice a little deeper than it had been earlier.
As he spoke, his eyes drifted over to Y/N. The look lingered just a second longer than normal before he looked away again. Her thighs pressed together without her meaning to.
Trey smirked. “You sure you don’t need a minute, bro?”
Erik leaned back on one hand. “Nah, I’m straight. We can keep playing.” He adjusted himself once, “This honey just got me real… aware right now.”
Jada shook her head with a grin. “That pack is no joke. You look like you’re ready to pounce on something.”
The group laughed.Erik stayed relaxed on the outside, but his eyes kept finding their way back to Y/N every few minutes.
Y/N stayed quiet focusing on her drink and pretending to laugh along with everyone else. But she could still feel the weight of his attention on her skin like a hand she couldn’t quite brush off.
The game eventually fizzled out as everyone started feeling the effects of the long night and all the shots. Jada stretched and looked around at the mess. “Alright y’all, let’s clean up a little before we get too lazy.”
They all got up slowly, groaning and laughing as they started picking up. Trey gathered the empty pizza boxes and shot glasses while Aaliyah folded blankets and picked up cards from the floor. Jada wiped down the coffee table. Erik helped out too, grabbing a few napkins and empty cups.
After about ten minutes, Erik checked his phone and stood up straight. “I’m gonna head out. Got an early morning tomorrow.”
He started saying his goodbyes, giving everyone a hug. He dapped Trey up first, then pulled Jada into a tight hug rocking her side to side. “Good seeing y’all, for real.” He hugged Aaliyah next.
Then he turned to Y/N.
She stood up trying to keep it casual. Erik stepped in and wrapped his arms around her. The hug lingered. His body felt warm against hers and that same woody cologne wrapped around her again. He held her for a few extra seconds.
Right before he pulled away, he leaned in close to her ear.
“Come through to my crib when you leave here.”
He gave her one last gentle squeeze before stepping back like nothing had happened. He grabbed his keys and headed toward the door. “Catch y’all later. Don’t get too crazy without me.”
The door closed behind him with a soft click.
Y/N stood there frozen for a second with Erik’s words echoing in her head. Her stomach felt like it dropped and her thoughts were all over the place. She felt discombobulated.
They continued tidying up the living room completely oblivious to what Erik had just dropped on Y/N before walking out the door.
She bent down to pick up a pillow trying to act normal, but her mind was already spinning with the decision she now had to make.
Y/N helped with the last bit of cleanup tossing a few more cups in the trash and folding one of the blankets. Once everything looked decent, she grabbed her bag and keys.
“Alright y’all, I’m about to head out,” she said. “Thank you for tonight. I had fun.”
She went around giving everyone hugs. Jada squeezed her tight telling her to text when she got home. Aaliyah hugged her next. Trey gave her a big bear hug and kissed the top of her head like the big brother he always acted like.
“Drive safe, Y/N. Love you girl,” he said.
“Love y’all too,” she replied with a small smile before heading out the door.
She wasn’t too drunk. Just nicely buzzed, enough to feel loose but still in control. The night air felt cool on her skin as she walked to her car. Once she got inside she didn’t start the engine right away. She just sat there in the driver’s seat staring out the windshield while replaying everything that happened tonight.
Come through to my crib when you leave here.
She let out a deep breath and rubbed her hands over her face. Was she really about to do this? Go to his house? After she spent months ignoring his texts and trying to bury everything that happened between them? What if it brought all those old feelings rushing back? The ones she swore she had under control?
Just then, her phone buzzed on the passenger seat.
She picked it up and saw a message from Erik. The preview showed a blurred picture. Her thumb hovered for a second before she clicked it open.
It was a photo of Erik. He was still in those black joggers standing in what looked like his bedroom. One of his hands was gripping his thick print through the fabric. The picture was clear enough to see just how big and heavy he was.
Right underneath it the message read:
<I need you.
Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. She felt a rush of heat flood between her legs, her pussy instantly getting wet. Her thighs pressed together on their own as she stared at the picture.
“Fuck…” she whispered to herself.
That sealed it.
She sat there for a few more seconds. Besides… it’s just going to be one night, she told herself. What’s the worst that could happen?
She started the car, typed Erik’s address into her GPS, and pulled off.
About twenty minutes later Y/N pulled up outside Erik’s house. The drive felt both too long and too short. Her stomach was in knots the entire way.
She parked on the street and sat in the car for a moment staring at his front door. Her hands were slightly shaky as she picked up her phone and typed:
>I’m outside
His reply came back almost instantly.
>It’s opened.
Y/N stared at the message. She took a slow breath trying to steady herself.
It’s just one night, she reminded herself. Just one night.
She grabbed her bag, stepped out of the car, and walked up to his front door. After another deep breath she twisted the knob and stepped inside.
The house was dimly lit with just a couple of lamps on casting a warm glow through the living room. Soft music played from somewhere deeper inside. She closed the door behind her and locked it.
Then Erik appeared from the hallway.
He was shirtless now. His muscular chest and abs were on full display. The scars on his biceps and torso were visible and his joggers sat low on his hips showing the deep V-line leading down.
Erik didn’t say anything else at first. He just walked toward her slowly. When he stopped in front of her, he was close enough that she could feel the heat radiating off his skin.
He reached out and gently took her bag from her hand setting it down on the nearby chair without breaking eye contact. Then he stepped even closer, one hand sliding around her waist pulling her body flush against his.
“You drove all the way over here,” he murmured, “after ignoring me for months.”
Y/N’s breath hitched as she felt how hard he still was, the thick outline of his erection pressing against her stomach through his joggers. The honey pack was clearly still working overtime.
“I wasn’t…” she started, but the words got caught in her throat when his other hand came up to cup the side of her face, his thumb brushing over her bottom lip.
“You wasn’t what?” he asked tilting his head slightly. “You wasn’t thinking about me? Or you wasn’t ready to admit you missed this too?”
Before she could answer, Erik leaned down and kissed her. His tongue slipped into her mouth and Y/N melted into him. Her hands instinctively slid up his bare chest feeling the warmth of his skin and the beat of his heart.
When he finally pulled back they were both breathing heavier.
“I been thinking about you since that night,” he admitted, forehead resting against hers. “Every time I tried to let it go… I couldn’t. And tonight?” He let out a low chuckle, almost strained. “I need you, Y/N. For real.”
His hands slid down to grip her ass. Y/N let out a shaky breath, her pussy throbbing with need.
Erik kissed her again before trailing his lips to her ear.
“Tell me you want this,” he whispered. “Tell me you’re not about to run out that door.”
She looked up at him. Her voice came out soft but steady.
“I want this,” she whispered. “I’m not running.”
That was all Erik needed.
He kissed her again. One hand stayed on her ass while the other slid up her back and into her hair tilting her head exactly how he wanted. The kiss turned hungry fast.
He walked her backward until her back gently hit the wall. Erik pulled away just enough to look at her.
His hands moved to the hem of her shirt. He peeled it off slowly tossing it somewhere behind him. His gaze dropped to her breasts and he let out a low curse under his breath before leaning down to kiss and suck on her neck trailing wet kisses across her collarbone.
Y/N’s head fell back against the wall, a soft moan slipping out as his mouth found her nipple. He sucked it into his mouth, tongue swirling, while his hand squeezed her other breast. Her fingers dug into his shoulders.
Y/N’s back pressed against the cool wall as Erik dropped to his knees in front of her like it was the most natural thing in the world. He looked up at her with those hooded eyes while he slowly dragged her pants and panties down her legs. He took his time kissing her inner thighs the whole way and sucked lightly on the sensitive skin until she was squirming.
“Fuck, I missed this pretty pussy,” he groaned. He spread her legs wider throwing one over his shoulder so she was completely open for him. “Look at you… already dripping for me.”
He leaned in and dragged his tongue slowly up her slit licking up all her wetness in one long stroke. Y/N moaned loudly, her hand flying to the top of his head gripping his fresh barrel twists. Erik let out a deep groan against her pussy, the vibration making her thighs tremble.
He didn’t tease for long.
Erik buried his face between her legs like a man starved. His tongue was everywhere licking broad stripes up her pussy, swirling around her swollen clit, then dipping inside her hole to fuck her with it. Wet sounds filled the hallway as he ate her greedily, sucking on her folds, slurping loudly on her juices like he couldn’t get enough.
“Shit, Erik…” Y/N whimpered.
He pulled back just enough to spit on her pussy watching it drip down before diving back in, sucking her clit into his mouth hard. Two thick fingers pushed inside her without warning.
“That’s it, baby,” he growled against her clit, fingers pumping faster. “Fuck my face. Use my tongue like you been wanting to.”
Y/N’s legs shook as she rode his mouth, grinding against his tongue while he finger-fucked her harder. He added a third finger to stretch her open, the wet squelching sounds getting louder. Erik moaned into her pussy the whole time clearly enjoying every second of it.
He pulled his fingers out for a moment, spread her pussy lips wide with both thumbs, and spat directly on her clit before sucking it back into his mouth with slurping sounds. His tongue flicked rapidly against her swollen nub while he looked up at her.
“You taste so fucking good,” he groaned, voice muffled. “This pussy still mine, ain’t it?”
Y/N could barely answer, just moaned his name like a prayer as her orgasm built fast. Erik could feel it. He locked his arms around her thighs holding her in place so she couldn’t run from the pleasure and attacked her clit with relentless suction and fast flicks of his tongue.
“Cum on my face, baby,” he demanded. “Let me taste how much you missed this dick.”
That pushed her over the edge.
Y/N came hard, thighs clamping around his head, back arching off the wall as she cried out. Erik didn’t stop. He kept sucking and licking her through it, moaning loudly like her orgasm was the best thing he’d tasted all night.
Erik finally pulled back, lips and chin shiny with her juices. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand while looking up at her with a satisfied smirk.
—————————————————————————
Erik stood up slowly.
“Come here,” he said.
He took her hand and led her over to the couch. The second they reached it, he sat down, legs spread wide, and pulled her down between them so she was on her knees on the floor in front of him. One arm stretched along the back of the couch as he looked at her with that intense stare.
Y/N’s hands shook slightly with anticipation as she reached for the waistband of his joggers. She tugged them down his hips and his thick dick sprang out. The head was already leaking precum, veins prominent along the shaft. He was rock hard from the honey pack and he looked even bigger than she remembered.
“Fuck…” she whispered wrapping her hand around the base. He was so thick her fingers barely met.
Erik let out a low groan, head tilting back for a second before he looked down at her again.
“Go ‘head, baby,” he murmured.
Y/N leaned in and dragged her tongue slowly from the base of his dick all the way up to the tip licking up the bead of precum that had formed. She swirled her tongue around the head before wrapping her lips around it and sucking gently.
“Shit… just like that,” Erik groaned, one hand sliding into her hair.
She took more of him into her mouth, sucking him deeper, her tongue working the underside of his shaft. He was so thick it made her jaw ache in the best way. She bobbed her head taking him as far as she could using her hand to stroke what didn’t fit.
Erik’s grip tightened in her hair. “Fuck, your mouth feels good. You been thinking about this dick, huh?”
Y/N moaned around him in response sucking harder, saliva dripping down his shaft as she worked him sloppily. The wet sounds filled the room.
“That’s it… choke on it,” he growled with hips lifting slightly to push deeper into her mouth. “Get it real wet for me. I want you drooling all over this dick.”
She did exactly that. Spit ran down her chin as she sucked him messily, hollowing her cheeks, twisting her hand around the base while she focused on the sensitive head. Erik’s breathing got heavier.
He looked down at her, eyes half-lidded. “Look at you… on your knees sucking me like you missed this shit. You do miss it, don’t you?”
Y/N pulled off just long enough to catch her breath, strings of spit connecting her lips to his dick. “Yes…” she breathed before diving back down taking him even deeper and gagging softly as the head hit the back of her throat.
“Fuuuck,” Erik hissed, his hand guiding her head as he slowly fucked her mouth. “Just like that. Keep gagging on it. I love that shit.”
She worked him eagerly. Spit dripped down onto his balls and she reached down to massage them earning a deep moan from him.
Erik’s abs flexed every time she took him deep. His breathing got heavier as he got closer.
Erik groaned deeply. “Fuck… get up here.”
He pulled her off his dick with a wet pop and yanked her up onto the couch. In one motion he sat back against the cushions and pulled her on top of him. His spit-slick dick rested hard against her stomach as he gripped her hips.
“Ride me,” he demanded. “I want this pussy right now.”
Y/N didn’t hesitate. She reached between them, wrapped her hand around his heavy dick, and lined him up with her dripping entrance. She rubbed the fat head up and down her wet folds a few times before slowly sinking down.
“Fuuuuck…” she moaned as he stretched her open.
Erik’s head fell back against the couch.“Goddamn, this pussy tight as hell. Keep going, baby. Take all this dick.”
She worked herself down until her ass was flush against his thighs. The feeling was overwhelming. Y/N let out a shaky whimper adjusting to his size while her walls clenched around him.
Erik gripped her ass with both hands to spread her open. “That’s it. Look at you swallowing my whole dick. Now ride it.”
Y/N started moving. The wet squelching sounds were loud as she lifted up and slammed back down as her juices coated his dick and dripped down his balls.
“Shit, just like that,” Erik groaned watching where they were connected. “Look how wet you got my dick. You been needing this, haven’t you?”
“Yes…” she moaned picking up the pace. She braced her hands on his chest and started bouncing harder, ass clapping against his thighs with every drop.
“Fuck me back,” she gasped.
Erik smirked as he gripped her hips tighter and started fucking up into her hard. The couch creaked under them as he pounded into her pussy.
“This what you been ignoring?” he growled eyes locked on her bouncing tits. “This dick been waiting on you and you was playing games.”
He sat up suddenly as he wrapped one arm around her waist and sucked hard on her nipple while he fucked her senseless. Y/N cried out, her nails digging into his shoulders as she rode him faster grinding her clit against him with every thrust.
Erik pulled back just enough to look at her face. “Ride this dick like you sorry. Show me how much you missed it.”
Y/N started bouncing harder. Her pussy was creaming all over his dick. Erik groaned loudly, one hand slapping her ass hard before gripping it again.
“Goddamn, you soaking me, baby. This pussy talking to me and everything.”
He leaned back again letting her take control. Y/N rode him like she was possessed.
Erik’s abs flexed with every thrust. “Keep fucking me just like that. I want this pussy to remember who it belongs to.”
But right as his breathing started getting ragged and his grip tightened, he suddenly sat up, wrapped both arms around her, and stood up with her still on his dick.
Y/N gasped, legs wrapping around his waist as he carried her down the hallway like she weighed nothing.
He kicked open the bedroom door, tossed her onto the bed, and flipped her over roughly.
“Face down, ass up,” he ordered. “Now.”
Y/N arched her back quickly pressing her chest into the mattress and lifting her ass high for him. Erik smacked her ass hard.
“This what you made me wait for?” he growled. He smacked her ass harder this time watching it jiggle. “Months of ignoring my fucking texts… acting like this pussy wasn’t mine.”
He lined his dick up with her dripping hole and slammed in deep in one thrust.
“Fuuuuck!” Y/N cried out gripping the sheets.
Erik didn’t give her time to adjust. He started fucking her, his balls slapping against her clit with every punishing stroke.
“This my pussy,” he grunted smacking her ass again. “Say it.”
“It’s yours,” she moaned loudly pushing back against him.
He gripped her hips tighter and pounded into her even harder.
“I can’t hear you,” he growled. “Who the fuck does this pussy belong to?”
“It’s yours, Erik!” she cried out. “It’s your pussy!”
“That’s right,” he snarled smacking her ass repeatedly. “You been keeping my shit away from me. Now take this dick like you owe me.”
He fucked her mercilessly. The bed creaked loudly under them. Y/N’s moans turned into broken whimpers as he hit that spot over and over.
Erik reached down and rubbed her clit while still pounding into her. “You better cum on this dick. Right now. Don’t hold that shit.”
The combination of his aggressive strokes, the sting from his smacks, and his fingers on her clit pushed her over the edge fast.
“I’m cumming!” she screamed as her pussy clamped down hard around him gushing wetly as her orgasm ripped through her.
“Fuck yes,” Erik groaned fucking her through it. “That’s my good girl. Cream all on this dick.”
He kept thrusting through her orgasm for a few more strokes before he suddenly pulled out with a wet sound. He stroked his dick fast aiming at her back.
“Shit— I’m about to nut,” he growled.
Thick ropes of cum shot across her back in heavy spurts. Erik moaned loudly as he emptied himself, painting her skin from her shoulder blades all the way down to the curve of her ass. He kept stroking until every drop was out.
“Fuck…” he panted looking down at the mess he made on her.
He leaned down and kissed the back of her neck softly.
“Don’t move,” he murmured.
He got up and walked to the bathroom. Y/N heard the sink running for a few seconds before he returned with a warm cloth. He sat on the edge of the bed and carefully wiped her back cleaning his cum off her skin with gentle strokes. The warm cloth felt soothing against her skin.
Once he was done he tossed the cloth toward the hamper and gently flipped her over onto her back. He laid down beside her pulling her into his chest. Y/N curled up against him, one leg draped over his, her head resting on his shoulder as they both tried to catch their breath.
The room was quiet except for the sound of their breathing slowly settling. Erik’s hand rubbed slow circles on her back while her fingers traced patterns over his scars.
After a couple minutes, Y/N let out a soft laugh.
“So… that honey pack really had you acting different tonight,” she teased. “I thought you were gonna tear my ass up.”
Erik chuckled lowly. “That shit had me gone. I was trying to behave in front of everybody, but my dick had other plans.”
Y/N smiled against his skin relaxing further into him.
The silence returned for a little while before Erik spoke again.
“…Why you been ignoring me, Y/N?”
Y/N froze for a second her fingers stopping their movement. She stayed quiet as she stared at the ceiling.
He waited patiently still rubbing her back.
She finally let out a shaky breath.
“I got scared,” she admitted softly. “That night… it felt like too much. I’ve liked you for years, Erik. Like, really liked you. And when we crossed that line, it hit me how deep it was. I didn’t know how to handle it, so I just… shut down. Ignoring you felt safer than admitting how I felt.”
She paused.
“I thought if I ignored it long enough, the feelings would go away. But they didn’t.”
Erik was quiet for a moment, processing her words. Then he tightened his arm around her and kissed the top of her head.
“I wish you would’ve told me that instead of disappearing on me,” he said gently. “I’m not mad at you for being scared. But I need you to talk to me next time. I’m not going anywhere, baby. I’ve been feeling you for a long time too.”
He tilted her chin up so she could look at him.
“I’m not perfect, and I know I got a lot going on with adjusting back to civilian life… but I want this. I want you. We don’t gotta rush or put a label on it right now if you not ready. But I’m done with the ignoring part. If you scared, tell me. If you need space, tell me. Just don’t shut me out again. Aight?”
Y/N searched his eyes for a second, then nodded slowly, feeling some of the weight lift off her chest.
“Okay,” she whispered. “I won’t shut you out again.”
Erik gave her a small smile and pulled her closer before kissing her forehead.
“Good. Now bring your ass closer and let me hold you properly.”
She smiled softly and snuggled deeper into his chest, finally relaxing as his arms wrapped around her tightly. The silence that followed felt peaceful this time.
——————————————-
Whewww, I know I was supposed to post this earlier but college had me super busy 😭 I’m finally on summer break now, so I should be able to upload consistently!
