cw: age gap (34 & 26) , unprotected p-in-v , backshots , creampie , daddy kink , pet names
His voice was deep, with a warning.
"Nah, stay right there."
Ony kept a firm grip on Shanya's hips, holding her in place. She whined as his thrusts never let up. Her ass smacked against his pelvis, making a clapping sound.
"Ouu fuck!" she gasped, letting her man fuck her relentlessly.
Her spine curved inward. Pretty manicured toes curled. Hands fisting the sheets. Face tear-stained from the previous positions. A large wet spot had formed under their bodies.
Ony's tatted muscles flexed. He wore a look of concentration, bottom lip occasionally slipping between his teeth. His hips aggressively bucked, dick pounding Shanya's pussy.
"Take that shit like I told you" he gritted, eyeing the creamy ring that formed at the base of his dick.
She whimpered in response, slightly squirming.
"Uh huh, where the fuck you goin?" he teased her with a sharp smack across her ass that made her yelp.
Ony wasn't sparing her a second of relief, his pleasure was torturous.
"Fuuck" he groaned, "pussy so good."
Grunts seeped out upon feeling her walls throb around him.
Her moans grew needy as she neared her climax.
"Daddy! Uhn daddy!" she cried.
Ony thrusted even harder if possible, "I gotchu sweethart...daddy gon give you that nut."
His eyes closed, as his dick twitched.
"Shit! Where you want it baby?"
"In my pussy pleasee" Shanya slurred.
Ony's head flew back, groaning to the ceiling as he erupted inside Shanya. His movements became sloppy as she milked him, the creamy substance seeping out.
He buried himself to the hilt, grinding against her.
Ony slowly came to a stop, panting, chest heaving along with Shanya. He pulled out of her, admiring the mess they made.
Only for a minute.
He pressed his feet into the mattress and squatted before slipping back into her wetness.
the morning sun poured through the kitchen window, spilling warm streaks of light across the worn wooden floor.
the smell of fresh coffee lingered in the air while biscuits browned in the oven.
you stood at the stove, carefully stirring a pan of eggs as the familiar voice of granny echoed from the front room.
"y/n!"
"yes'm?"
you adjusted the oven door before reaching for another skillet.
salt pork crackled as it hit the hot cast iron.
just as you reached for the coffee pot to take off the burner, a knock sounded at the door.
granny wiped her hands on her apron rising from her chair.
"i'll get it."
you continued cooking.
a moment later...
"well, look who the lord done sent!" granny shouts out
you paused trying to get a listen.
"mornin', miss claudia."
that voice...
"sammie?" you ask yourself.
you quickly peeked around the doorway.
sammie is standing on the porch with a woven basket tucked beneath one arm and his guitar resting across his shoulder.
"come on in, baby!"
granny stepped aside.
"what you standin' out there for?"
sammie laughed softly.
"mama sent me over with a few things for the church ladies."
he handed over the basket.
"said these was for you and miss eleanor."
"mmm."
granny nodded approvingly grabbing it.
" tell your mama i said thank you."
"i sure will."
you stepped into the doorway.
"...sammie."
he looked over.
"there she is!"
you smiled.
"i wasn't expectin' to see you again so soon."
"neither was i."
he chuckled.
granny interrupts clapping her hands once.
"well, don't just stand there jawin'! come in sammie!"
granny grabs sammie by the shoulder, bringing him to the dining table
"and you ain't leavin' my house without eatin'!"
"oh, no ma'am."
sammie waved both hands
" i'm alright. i ate alrea-"
"i said...you ain't leavin' hungry."
there wasn't much arguing after that.
you smirked to yourself shaking your head at granny's antics.
some things just never change.
granny turned toward the kitchen.
"y/n!"
"yes'm?"
"warm them biscuits back up!"
"fry him a couple more eggs."
"cut up that salt pork."
"and put that coffee back on!"
"yes ma'am,"
you tied you apron on a little tighter before returning to the stove.
behind you, granny had already settled sammie at the table.
"so.."
"how ya mama doin'?"
"she's doin' alright."
" and passa?"
"he good too."
"you still keepin' yourself busy?"
sammie laughed.
"everday."
you quietly carried over the coffee pot.
before sammie could reach for it, granny took the handle first.
pouring it for him.
"there now. that's how you pose to start your mornin'"
she finishes, pouring her a cup
"y/n! hurry up with them plates na! this man gotta eat!"
"it's alright miss claudia. ain't inna rush."
sammie says attempting to get granny to stop badgering you.
"boy hush! gal should've been had that food done!"
sammie shakes his head subtlety not to trigger granny furthermore.
you huff quielty clenching your teeth returning to the stove.
♡♡♡
breakfast was ready.
you carried each plate to the table.
eggs.
biscuits.
salt pork.
fresh coffee.
granny beamed proudly.
"there!"
"now that'll stick to your ribs."
sammie gave a smile and nod towards you in appreciation and then looked towards granny.
"thank you, miss claudia."
"awe..hush! call me granny!"
you quietly took the empty skillet back toward the sink.
before you could even reached it—
"y/n."
you turned.
"yes'm?"
"bring me that jelly off the counter."
you nodded.
"yes, ma'am."
a few minutes later—
"y/n!"
"Mm?"
"fetch another napkin."
"yes, ma'am."
then
"y/n!"
"bring me that butter."
"yes, ma'am."
sammie noticed.
every time you finished one thing...
another followed.
never complained.
never sighed.
never rolled your eyes.
you simply...
did it.
" uhh...miss clau—granny? ain't y/n gonna sit n eat too?"
" awe, don't worry bout that baby! y/n got all day ta eat! you's my guest."
...
by the time breakfast ended, you was already gathering empty plates.
"i'll get those." sammie tries grabbing the used dishes.
" aht aht, she got em!"
granny intervenes with a raised hand
sammie looks towards you for confirmation.
"i got 'em." you say stacking the dishes before carrying them back into the kitchen.
water ran into the sink.
coffee cups and silverware clinked softly against the basin.
the conversation in the dining room continued while you quietly washed dishes alone.
sammie found himself glancing toward the kitchen more than once.
you hadn't sat down since he'd arrived.
not once.
a little while later...
granny finally waved him toward the front door.
"you tell your mama thank you again."
"i will."
"and don't be no stranger."
"yes'm."
you followed him onto the porch.
the late morning sun had climbed higher now, warming the old wooden steps beneath y'all feet.
for a moment...
neither of you spoke.
"i'm glad we finally got a chance to catch up."
you smiled softly.
"me too."
"it still feels strange."
"what?"
"seein' you after all these years."
you laughed quietly.
"i know."
a breeze stirred through the pine trees.
sammie adjusted the strap of his guitar.looking back to check if granny wasn't close by
"you doin' alright?"
you blinked.
"...yeah."
"you sure?"
you smiled reassuringly.
"i'm alright, sammie."
he studied you for another second.
he wasn't entirely convinced.
but he also knew better than to push.
instead...
he smiled.
"when you finally get yourself a free day..."
you looked at him curiously.
"...yeah?"
"go enjoy it."
you tilted your head.
"what do you mean?"
"i mean..."
he shrugged.
"go somewhere."
"walk through town."
"sit by the creek."
"do somethin' just because you want to."
a thoughtful smile crossed your face.
"i'll keep that in mind."
"you should!"
sammie chuckled.
"life got more to offer than the same four walls."
you looked back toward the house.
then back at sammie.
"...i hope so."
before either of them could say another word—
"sammie!"
granny's voice rang through the screen door.
"you come back now, ya hear?"
"and tell your mama i said thank you!"
"yes'm!"
he tipped his cap.
"i better get on."
you nodded to him
"tell your mama I said hello." granny adds on again
"i will."
"and passa too!
" you take care na! God bless!"
"i sure will granny. God bless you too."
"see you 'round y/n."
"see you sammie."
you respond softly with a wave as he started down the porch steps.
you watched him disappear down the dusty road until he was nothing more than a figure against the nississippi morning.
only then did you quietly step back inside.
the smile on your face lingered...
right until another memory slipped into your thoughts.
smoke.
"you gon' see me again."
heat crept into your cheeks.
you shook your head.
"...Lord."
the late morning, mississippi sun beat down on the dirt road as sammie made his way back toward town, his guitar resting comfortably across his shoulder.
he hadn't made it but another mile before the familiar rumble of an engine rolled up behind him.
a sleek black sedan eased alongside the dusty shoulder.
the passenger window slid down.
stack leaned halfway out with that same crooked grin plastered across his face.
"well, if it ain't preacher boy!"
sammie laughed.
"mornin'."
stack looked him over.
"boy, what you doin' all the way out here?"
"headed back toward town."
"walkin'?"
sammie shrugged.
"unless the good Lord done blessed me with wings."
stack barked out a laugh.
"boy, get your smart ass in this car!"
sammie chuckled before opening the back door and climbing inside, laying his guitar carefully across the seat beside him.
the familiar scent of leather, tobacco and lingering summer heat filled the car.
smoke sat in the passenger seat, hat tipped low over his brow.
he glanced back just long enough to nod.
"preacher."
"smoke."
that was all that needed to be said.
the greeting was comfortable.
familiar.
family.
the sedan rolled back onto the road.
for a minute...
nobody said much.
only the steady hum of the engine and gravel beneath the tires filled the silence.
finally, stack spoke.
"so..."
"where you comin' from?"
"miss claudia's."
stack frowned.
"...miss claudia?"
sammie nodded.
"mama had me droppin' some things off from church."
then it clicked.
stack slowly looked toward smoke...
then... back at sammie.
a grin stretched across his face.
"hold on..."
"you mean miss church dress?"
sammie chuckled.
"yeah."
smoke didn't move.
didn't say a word.
stack slapped the steering wheel.
"i'll be damned!"
"how long you stay over there?"
"longer than i meant to."
"granny wasn't hearin' me leavin'."
" y/n fixed breakfast."
"eggs."
"biscuits.
"salt pork."
"fresh coffee."
sammie leaned back against the seat with a satisfied grin.
"man..."
"best breakfast I done had in a good while."
"me and my siblings usually split whatever mama can throw together before everybody scatters for the day."
stack's eyes widened dramatically.
"shit..."
"you tellin' me miss church dress out there feedin' folks like that?"
sammie laughed.
"i'm just tellin' you what happened."
stack shook his head dramatically tapping on his brother's shoulder.
"smoke..."
"we might needa swing back 'round there."
smoke cut his eyes toward his brother.
one brow lifted.
stack only grinned wider.
"what?"
"i'm just sayin'"
"you done?"
stack and sammie chuckles.
"not even close."
the laughter settled.
sammie's smile slowly faded.
"but..."
"truth be told..."
"i felt bad for her."
the joking eased.
stack glanced at him through the rearview mirror.
"why you say that?"
sammie looked out the passenger window for a long moment before answering.
"she never stopped movin'."
"the whole time i was there..."
"she fixed breakfast."
"poured the coffee."
"served the food."
"cleared the table."
"washed dishes."
he shook his head.
"and every time she'd finish one thing,miss claudia'd call her again."
"'y/n!'"
"'go put this away.'"
"'y/n!'"
"'bring me that.'"
"'y/n!'"
"'come do this.'"
sammie sighed, shaking his head.
"i tried speakin' up or helpin' but, that granny would shut it down. y/n would tell me she got it. aint wanna make somethin' worse for her."
"i was there close to an hour."
"i don't think she sat down once."
silence settled over the sedan.
the joking...
gone.
smoke stared ahead through the windshield.
his expression remained unreadable.
then...
almost absentmindedly,
"she seem alright?"
sammie nodded.
"yeah..."
"little tired, maybe."
"said she was fine."
smoke gave one small nod.
"...Mm."
another quiet bout settled over the car.
a few more miles passed beneath the tires.
then smoke asks
"... y/n fixed all that food?"
sammie looked toward the passenger seat.
"yeah."
"every bit of it."
"granny mostly sat there askin' me about church n stuff while y/n kept everything movin'."
stack slowly turned his head toward smoke.
the grin returned.
"that's three questions."
smoke didn't bother looking over.
"you countin' now?"
"damn right."
stack laughed.
"five minutes ago, your ass ain't had nothin' to say."
"now you over here conductin' interviews."
sammie laughed quietly to himself.
smoke rolled his jaw.
...
stack wasn't finished.
not by a long shot.
he looked back toward sammie.
"well..."
"how'd she look?"
smoke immediately cut his eyes toward his brother.
stack pointed across the seat.
"see?!"
"i asked it for you."
sammie laughed, shaking his head.
"thought he wasn't interested."
stack pointed toward smoke.
"don't let him fool you."
"his nosy ass just forgot to ask."
smoke clicked his teeth not even looking over at his brother and cousin
" y'all finished?"
"nah..."
stack says leaning his chair back in the driver’s seat.
"you ain't let sammie answer yet."
"gone head."
"answer the question..."
"then i'll hush."
sammie laughed.
"she looked like herself."
"sweet."
"soft-spoken."
"a little wore out...but, she still smiled."
smoke lookes back out the windshield.
that answer seemed to settle something inside him.
he didn't say another word.
stack watches him for another second before a slow grin spreads across his face.
"hard-headed ass just be tellin' on himself."
smoke finally turns to his brother with a long stare
"you done entertainin' yourself?"
"almost." stack replies going to another subject with sammie.
smoke clicks his teeth once.
then, without another word, he reaches inside his suit pocket and pulls out a cig.
he coolly slips it between his lips,
stricking the match against the dash.
the flame flared briefly before the tip of the cigarette glowed a steady orange.
smoke takes one slow drag...and exhales.
then, he looks back out the windshield.
the smoke drifts lazily through the open window.
stack chuckled at what sammie said.
"mm-hmm."
"thought so!"
their laughter gradually faded around smoke.
the sedan rolled beneath another stretch of towering pines.
outside...
mississippi drifted by in long stretches of cotton fields and weathered fence posts.
inside...
smoke quietly slipped his unoccupied hand into his suit pocket.
his fingers brushed against a familiar coin.
the spare coin he'd gotten back the day he'd paid for your groceries.
It wasn’t lost on you how Stack would fuck you like a mad man who hated you after not having acces to the saccharine pot between your legs for too long.
After he abruptly ended the call, you ran to the bathroom to freshen up. Thank god you had your everything wax done a week ago. Saves you from having to do a last minute shave.
Getting into the shower, you exfoliate your body with the pink hibiscus scented body scrub. Every nook and cranny was thoroughly cleaned because Stack can get a little passionate when it comes to showing his love and appreciation. There’s not a part of your body that hasn’t been in that man’s mouth. Especially after not having a taste for 14 days, he was going crazy today.
You were damn near buzzing with excitement. One thing about it is you were always extra horny when your body finally decided to act right. Even while sitting down in order to moisturizer, you could feel your center throbbing so hard.
“Hmm lingerie or birthday suit? Decisions, decisions” looking in your lingerie drawer, you were contemplating giving him something to tear apart before getting to the prize or just going full nude and getting down to business once he made it home.
Ultimately the decision came down to wearing your black three piece lingerie. Stack always loved the chase. Plus he’s a visual, he always appreciates it when you give him a show. Not sure if you’ll have time for that today.
You could hear the front door creak open and your dog and lovely companion barking with excitement as his father walked in.
Suddenly, you could feel your heartbeat in two places. Between your legs and in your chest. Not only did the sound of his voice have your center moist, you were also anticipating seeing his handsome face.
“Down boy, down! Lil hyper midget.” His rough but sweet voice to your ears could be heard scolding the dog. Frankly those two had a love hate relationship which is crazy because he bought it for you but would act like he didn’t like the dog. Not even after seeing proof of him cuddling the little beast or him getting emotional when he got sick that one time.
Ascending the stairs like her royal highness, he heard the click clack of your kitten sandals and he straightened his posture to get a good look at you. He could smell your sweet scent mixed with your natural scent, the combination teasing his nostrils and making his mouth salivate.
One would think you were a virgin the way you were standing before him. Eyes looking every where but directly at him. Doing that little nervous dance. It took him 3 long strides to stand in front of you as he peered down at you.
“Fuck! You not playing fair baby” he muttered. His lips hovering over your gloss covered ones.
Hands circling your waist. Running up and down your full figure as his head found its place in the crook of your neck.
You could hear him sniffing you. Taking in your scent that he loved oh so much.
“And you smell delectable too. I could eat you right now.” He growled close to your ear as he nibbled on your earlobe. “Can I eat your pussy baby? Hm? You know how bad I missed it.”
All you could do was moan helplessly. Your hands running up and down his broad back. Squeezing his muscles. God, you missed feeling his rough biceps under your palms.
“Uhh baby wait..” you couldn’t help but moan as he smacked your ass and rubbed the spot. He jiggled it in his hands as if it was a stress ball. “You need to wash up first.”
“Why? Imma just sweat and get dirty anyways”
“Baby please-“ came out in a whiny voice as your arousal kept drenching your inner thighs.
After a few more minutes of him kissing on you and kneading your body like a horny teenager, he reluctantly detached from your body and basically run to the bathroom to wash up.
If someone were to ask you what’s your name or what date it is? You wouldn’t even know where to begin. The only thing coming from your succulent lips, that Stack had kidsed so much and bit on, were your beautiful moans and the word Daddy.
“Daddy-“ He lapped on your pussy like a caveman who just discovered his meal. Legs spreads and draped over his broad shoulders. His hands rubbing your titties. You were in heaven.
And so was he, given the grunts that kept coming from the back of his throat.
He put his whole face between your thighs. Alternating between making out with your pussy and his nose inhaling your scent.
“My god! I fucking missed this.” He growled.
You couldn’t take it anymore. Your palms pushing against his strong shoulders and your body trying to scoot back and detach from his lips that seemed to be glued to you.
“Why are you running?” When he lifted his head, you could see your juices coating his moustache. That visual was enough to make you cum on the spot. Paired by the obvious neediness in his dark brown orbs.
“B-baby I caan’t, it’s too much”
“Nah you’re a big girl. You can take it mama.” He said as he pulled your body under his massive one. Arms cradling you like a fragile little thing. He rained soft kisses all over your face. You chest.
It’s like the body has a mind of its own. Didn’t even notice when you started grinding on his center that was laying between your legs. Rock hard you could bet he was uncomfortable.
The combination of his dick teasing you, his mouth making out with your areolas and his fingers caressing your scalp, surely you couldn’t form a coherent sentence.
“Tell me what you want mama. You keep making all these noises, I need you to tell daddy what you want.”
Your soft fingers came between your bodies to hold his dick, making it jump.
“Please, p-please put it innn” Your whiny voice and moans were like soft breeze caressing his ears.
“Yeah? Put it in then baby. Put it in for me.” He pecked your lips then pecked your forehead
Your fingers shook as you held him tightly guiding him to your entrance.
“Oh my God, oh my god, oh my go-“
“Fuck! Open up for me baby. You know I need more space than that.” Came his cocky reply as you struggle to take him all the way.
He always let you guide him in because it was always a sweet but painful few seconds before you could fully let him in .
But once he was in, you both let out sigh. You knew you were in for a long night. No complaints, because this is what you both needed.
Don’t forget to comment and reblog. Thank you for reading! 💋
Music!Producer!Stack x Black!Fem!Singer!Reader ‧₊ ♪˚⊹
☆┇a taste of the story: You were having a hard time in the studio today. Things just weren't in your favor today, whether it was the flow or the lyrics. Something was missing, and you just couldn't figure it out..until your producer and boyfriend!Stack helps you alone in the isolated recording booth.
☆┇ingredients & calorie count: this late night sweet treat includes 3k+ word servings. has notes of mr. certifited eaterrrr, music!producer!Stack, black!fem!singer!reader, p in v, porn with a bit of plot, oral (fem receiving), unprotected smexy time. 18+ ,MINORS THIS IS NOT THE BAKERY FOR YOU! Ella’s Mai’s Song 10,000 hours!! all lyrics belong to Ella Mai
☆┇mika's notes: this is in fact a late-night sweet treat for my lovelies who are still up at 2 am!! tried my best with proofreading sorry for the wait, everyone. (this was supposeddddd to be a drabble but…here we are with 3k words) But hope y'all enjoy! dividers cred @cursed-carmine
The music has been playing in your ears for hours now. It's a familiar routine, you inside the isolated booth, headphones that rested against your ear, standing in front of the mic. Sheet music stand holds your printed, now it's not like you really needed them. You know the words by heart, but something isn't hitting the way you want it to. So maybe see the lyrics physically might help you figure out whatever the problem is.
You can't tell if it's your vocals, the beat, or the lyrics themselves, but something is completely off.
Through the double-paned glass that was in front of you, the luxurious control room, with its plush leather seats, top-notch recording equipment, and the walls that were decorated with a mix of your own plaques and favorite artists' records. Sitting on the other side of the glass are your manager, Ayesha, your assistant and close friend, Tia, and right in the middle, sat right in front of the soundboard is Elias, also known as Stack, your producer and boyfriend.
This was supposed to be a quick session, but it has dragged on for three hours now. Wearing a comfortable brown halter top and camo skirt with a double belt that laid low on your hips, with lots of thigh to show underneath, you shift on your feet, the frustration starting to cloud your mind. You hum to yourself, shaking your head murmuring, "Mmm, something ain't right." Usually, you’re entirely confident in your music, but this creative block is causing a stubborn stagnancy.
Now you being in the studio for hours wasn't something new, but you having trouble like this?? now this was something completely different.
Ayesha watched you through the glass as you hummed to yourself . She took note of how you were nodding your head to the beat, but pen in hand and scribbling on the paper that had your lyrics on them.
You were in the studio longer then expected due to something that was bothering you, and you couldn't even place what it was.
You couldn't put your finger on it.
Ayesha took a brief sip of her water as she sighed leaning back in the office chair, that made a slight screeching noise as she leans back. And Stack, oh Stack's eyes never left you, he saw the tension in your expression the uncertainty and doubt clouding your mind, as you shook your head scribbling more on the paper.
Before any of them could speak, your voice broke the silence in the room.
Turning back into the mic, you ask, "Can y'all isolate my vocals? I'll sing it real quick."
Outside the glass, Stack’s head tilts. He leans his elbows on the mixing desk, his fingers moving smoothly against the sliders to mute the backing track.
But as you begin to sing the lyrics raw, it still isn't working. It’s not what you want to hear, and you weren't…..feeling it??
"What do you think it is?" Ayesha asked aloud, to both Stack and Tia, they both knew what she was asking.
Tia shrugged her shoulders as she shook her head, completely stumped on what could be the problem, she thought the song was perfect and sounded good to her "I'm gonna keep it real i ain't got a clue in the world, i liked the song, but you know how she gets when she don't like somethin', it doesn't leave her mind until she fixes it,".
Stack hums agreeing, he knew how she gets in her head so quickly when it comes to her music, she gets like that because she cares deeply about it, he always knew that everything had a place for her and so once something seems outta place, you were the one to fix it.
He just wonders what you were thinking.
You let out a heavy groan, sucking your teeth, unaware of how intently Stack is watching you. He always catches the small things—the furrow of your eyebrows, the tension in your shoulders, the doubt in your eyes.
He twirls a pen between his fingers, his tongue rolling into his cheek as an idea forms. He knows exactly how to break through your frustration or whatever is going on in your head.
"Tia, Ayesha," Stack says, his tone low and calculated as he speaks to the room. "We haven't had our break yet." He briefly looks at you. "Looks like she needs one, and we could use one too. Why don't y'all step out for a bit so I can talk to her?"
Tia and Ayesha exchange a look, then glance back at him. "You sure?" Tia asks.
Stack nods, rubbing his hand along his goatee. "Positive. Y'all go on and grab some lunch. I know y'all were talkin about the new place on 5th, see what happenin' over there. I'll text y'all when we're finished here."
Tia looks at Stack and then you, "You want us to get y'all a lil somethin, heard they got some good fries there too," she offers.
Stacks waves her off "Nah, I'm straight, but you can probably get her something to eat,".
Ayesha gives him a warning look, "You betta make sure she's alright,"
Stacks nods without hesitation "Always,".
Ayesha sighs, pushing back her rolling chair with a slight squeak, and grabs her purse. Tia follows close behind, their distant murmurs fading as the studio door clicks shut.
Now, Stack leans back in his chair, his eyes entirely fixed on you.
You're still looking down at your lyric sheet, pen in hand, aggressively scratching out words and editing lines. The sudden sound of the heavy booth door opening snaps you out of your daze. Looking up, your shoulders instantly ease at the sight of him walking in. Elias stands there taking in your frustrated appearance, his white shirt clinging to his frame, every ridge of his muscles on display, and for a second, the stress of the track completely fades away.
You turn your head back to the sheet of lyrics.
"Elias, i don't know, how do i sound to you?" your head hangs low as you ask.
"You always sound good to me"
Stack's heart softens even more after he hears you call him 'Elias', it was a soft spot for him always. He walks up behind you, his hand on the music stand looking over your scribbles and notes you made on the paper as his hand slither around your waist.
"What's bothering you so much that it's got you writing liking chicken scratch on the lovely lyrics?" He asks with a smirk appearing on his face.
You sigh and shrug. "I don't know.. something ain't clicking, I'm just not feeling it,"
"I'm just….this never happens to me, you know?" you add.
Stack picks up the paper and looks at it, reading it as he paces the room, and he hums the beat to himself .
"How bout, you tell me what you like in the song and what you got going on in that head of yours?" he ask as he lightly taps your temple.
You look around the room, as you pull the one side of the headphones away from your ear.
"Ummm, I like the percussion on this track, also really like slow vibe on the one part that gives a little sensual vibe,". You begin to hum the song and go to the chorus that you love and sing.
"Why you always take so long to call me? Know I gotta wake up in the mornin'. You know every second adds up to a minute.
As you are singing Stack leaves the room heading back to the control room and standing right in front of the soundboard. He watches you, your eyes are closed and singing, he can see that you are easing into the music and then his finger moves against one of the sliders, slowing the tempo down just a little bit.
You like the way that sounds, so you continue.
You sing .
"Need 10,000 hours, We can be so in love, Don't stop, I'm counting them up.
Run the clock, I be counting them up.
We can be so in love.
You know every second adds up to a minute.
Need 10,000 hours
We can be so in love."
As you sing, Stack is adjusting the soundboard, so when you sing the lyrics "We could be so in love" it loops. Your voice is now a background vocal and looping. It sounds exactly what was missing .
A smile can't help but appear on your face as you sing. Before Stack walks back into the isolated room, he watches you as you finish singing and saves that track. You still sing to the music, and Stack walks up to you smiling.
“How does it sound now?" he asks, looking at you.
You smile as you take the headphones off and place them on his ears. Before he even hears the rest, his lips find yours, melting together. His hands immediately find your ass, as he listens to your voice singing to him
"Y/N, you sound so good" he pulls away breathlessly from the kiss.
He presses himself against you and you smile. Your lips dance together as his hand find the back of your head, bringing you closer to him.
"Hold on baby," he says pulling away ripping a needy moan from you. As he takes the headphones off and leaves the room.
He leaves the room and your panties are soaked, you stand there waiting and soon you hear your voice coming from the speakers of the isolated room.
The song you just sang, now playing throughout the room.
He walks back in with a erection that can't be ignored, but he caresses your cheek.
"Told you before to stop doubting yourself, ain't I?". He asks looking down at you.
"Y-Yes," you lean up to kiss him but he doesn't let you get the satisfaction just yet.
"You were stressin' and all I needed to hear was what you were fucking with and what you weren't, and I knew what to add once I heard it.” He kisses your neck, his wet lips sliding up your neck with little bites he leaves as he makes his way up to your ear and kisses it.
You can't help but let out a moan "Mmm, baby,".
Stack smiles against your ear, your hear a soft huff of air and shiver, "Now you just listen to yourself and how pretty you sound," he directs.
You take a sharp breath as he kisses your ear, and smiles.
As you kiss him, your soaked panties cling to your soppy pussy. You feel his fingers pull them to the side, toying with your sensitive clit, causing you to jolt in his arms.
He smirks something cocky as he watches you. He lives for how sensitive you are for him, how wet you are.
His hand slowly holds you, pressing you against the double glass-paned window. You kiss him before he pulls away and shows all the love to your chest, licking the part of skin that shows on your test and squeezing your nipples through your bra.
His eyes lock with yours, causing you to whimper as his other hand has remained busy on your clit. He kisses down your body, your breathing becomes heavy. He moves the material of your skirt and kisses the meat of your thighs. He then drags his tongue on your clothed pussy a couple of times. Your head leans back on the glass window pane.
" 'Lias- you ain't gotta-" you begin to say
"Shh, what i need you to do is it back and sing for me, go on and listen to your song and hit those high notes for me," Stack grins as he pushed your soaked panties to the side, giving your pussy kisses and licks before sliding your panties off.
His grabs your thigh, placing it on his shoulder as he begins to devour your pussy, full of tongue as his nose begins to rub your clit, your eyes widen and mouth agape as you hand supports the back of his head. "F-Fuck S-S-Eliass you—".
Stack smiles as his tongue delves into you. He groans as he hears you having trouble speaking, stumbling and stuttering over your words. Doesn't sound like much singing to him.
Your moans can't be helped from escaping you.
"Baby, I need more, please. I- could you please stop teasing!" you whine out, your hands caressing the back of his head.
Stack chuckles and hits your g spot one last time, leaving a drabble of spit and your juices smeared on his lips and your pussy. He slurps every bit, and he pulls away, standing to his feet as he hears your pleas.
"So damn, impatient. I ain't doing shit until I hear my pretty girl sing like I hear you on these fucking speakers. You got a voice of the angels, princess, and I wanna hear that." He rasps as his dick throbs in his pants.
You clear your throat, realizing he is serious. As he smiles, tilting his head, grabbing your hips and turning you to face the glass window, your hands immediately bracing on the cold glass and your breath panning on the window, fogging up just as you exhale.
And you begin to sing, the lyrics. Your voice oozing like honey in his ears. You are harmonizing with yourself. "I've been high and I've been low." He holds your hips, kissing your shoulder and neck as you continue. You feel the bass from the speakers in your chest, or maybe that was your heart racing because of how wet you were. You begin to find the rhythm of the music as if there wasn't a care in the world."But this time I know it's for sure." He watches you in the glass , his eyes taking in your figure, and feeling your ass, and soon his hands aren't on you. You
You hear a zzziiiipppp sound behind you. Stack fists himself behind you, tapping your leg, signaling for you to spread your legs wider . You continue singing."Cause I'm right where I belong, and we are only getting stronger. Feel's good to be down in my—!"
"Oooouuuu shiit—" You moan as your head leans on the glass, your breath fogging a spot on the window. Stack lined himself up with your soaked pussy so quickly you didn't even realize, and his thrust wasn’t so gentle; they had urgency and passion behind it.
"Fuuck!. You are everything, baby. Ain’t nobody doing it like you ain’t, that right?". He sinks into you again, causing your body to jolt to the window as Stack grips your hips. Your back arching, Stack looks down, looking down as his dick thrusts into you.
In and Out. In and Out. In and Out.
A constant pace, a relentless one.
“You’re so wet for me, baby. All for me, my pretty girl. Sing just for me." He grunts as he kisses your neck. Both of your senses were blown. Your music on a loop in the room, mic stand kicked on the floor. Hands everywhere, and Stack fucking you like there was no tomorrow as you throw your pussy back to him. Stack moaning and grunting in your ear as your head is leaned back on his shoulder, hand on the window, bracing and back arching.
"You sound really close, baby. You gonna come for me, ain't you?" Stack kisses your shoulder, the sound of your lovemaking, remixing with the music you just made in the studio.
Tears begin to prick into your eyelids as you whine. "Aaa-aa- I-I can't hold it anymore".
The wet slapping sounds coming from your pussy only grew as Stack continues, the material of your skirt flipped to your back. You cum, no longer able to hold it, as a moaning cry leaves your lips as your whole body convulses and locks. That doesn't cause Stack to pull back; in fact, it drives him even crazier.
Stack pulls your hips back as he is chasing your release with his own. His thrust pushes you forward to the glass. You use the glass as leverage, pushing your pussy back onto his dick, and you hear him moan. Stack cums with a groan , kissing your neck and sinking his teeth, leaving marks on your skin.
Stack fills you up, and some cum spurts onto the underside of your skirt, sinking into the material. You two catch your breath. As he pulls out slowly, smacking your ass, causing you to yelp, "Eliass!"
“Girl, stop all that," Stack chuckles, rubbing your ass softly and leading you to take a seat.
You both take a minute catching your breath as his arm wraps around you. You look at the glass closely. Squinting and smirking as you whisper, "Oh my god."
Stack looks at you as he is adjusting himself back into his pants, as he zipping his pants back up and catches his breath, "Oh my god, what, what are we whatin' about?" As he moves his head trying to match your eye line and see what you are seeing, a smirk that shows his dimples all too well appears on his face.
You try to stop him. "Don't start."
But you knew it was already done
Stacks smile is wide with pride, "Oh ho hoooo, I'm definitely taking a picture of this for keepsake, damn baby, I had your hand print like that.”
You roll your eyes, giggling at his foolish behavior, as he gets up and grabs his phone, snapping a picture at an angle for the lighting to be just right and.
Click. Click. Click.
A couple of shots were taken, and as he bends down, picking up the music stand and fallen lyrics, phone in hand, he can't help but smile as his eyes examine the picture closer.
"Hold up, I'm not gonna lie, this would make a dope ass cover for the album." He nods at the picture, already thinking of a way to edit it, if you agreed.
You can't help but roll your eyes, but now that you think of it, maybe you would.
A hand print of your love, where you make the music you love, isn't such a bad idea.
˙ . ꒷ 🍰 . 𖦹˙— mika’s notes: thank you for reading lovelies, please reblog, comment and let me know what you think!! <𝟑 .ᐟ
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౨౿ ⁺ thinking about ex-husband!smoke. the divorce yall went through was quick and straight to the chase. you dropped the papers on his desk and he signed them without a messy fight, court hearings, or anything like that. ex-husband!smoke let you have the house in the divorce and moved into his own makeshift apartment, since he never wanted for much. ex-husband!smoke still comes over yall used to be shared house to fix on things that broke or to put groceries in your fridge.
“you said the sink acting up again?”, he asked with the phone pushed up on his shoulder while grabbing his keys and toolbox. “i’ll be over there mama.”
to be honest, smoke didn’t even fully process the divorce. he got that yall weren’t legally married, but in his eyes you were still his wife. he kept pictures of yall together up on his social medias, yall weddings pictures were still framed at his apartment, and your contact stayed “wife♥️.”
ex-husband!smoke will find any excuse to be in your presence again. you sick? he’s at the house with soup already on the stove and some nice lemon tea with honey ready for you. you going out with your girls? he’s yall personal driver. you tired at your job? he callin’ your boss to tell ‘em you not coming in tomorrow and sending you double what you make in a day. he honestly didn’t give a fuck yall was divorced.
ex-husband!smoke hasn’t touched another woman since yall divorce and he wasn’t planning on either. stack would often tease him about it, but no matter how many times his younger brother took him out for a night—no other woman could compare to his beautiful ass wife.
ex-husband!smoke who honestly can’t stop yearning for you and wants to wake up to you every morning in bed again. he knew you divorced him for a reason, and he was putting in the upmost effort to fix his issues and put that rock back on your finger.
ex-husband!smoke who finds himself back in the bed yall shared together when one of yall can’t sleep. “you had a nightmare, baby? ‘m sorry”, while slipping under the silk sheets and guiding you to lay on his bare chest—head rested right below the tattoo of your name on his collarbone.
ex-husband!smoke who’s actually a little delusional about you trying to head back into the dating scene. he would kill any nigga who thought they had a chance with you . . .
Crystal flinched, gasping at the sound of her husband's voice as he appeared behind her in the bathroom mirror. “Oh my god, Mike.” One hand clutched to her chest, the other gripping the edge of the sink, she leaned toward it taking a relieved breath. “I didn't even hear you come in here.”
“I was being stealthy.” He wore a silly smile on his face, but she wasn't as amused, frowning just slightly.
“You scared the shit out of me.”
“My bad," he laughed, quietly, "I didn't mean to.”
“And aren’t you early?”
“Ok, so, check this out.” He stepped closer, placing his hands onto the marble down at her sides, caging her in. “I been thinkin' about you aaaall day, baby. And I couldn’t wait to get home.”
She dried her hands on the small towel hanging next to her, grinning up at his scrumptious reflection. “You missed me?”
“Mhm. So bad, baby.”
A bigger smile was creeping onto her face as he sat his cap and glasses down by the sink, but then she realized something. Her brows scrunched in confusion. “Why are we talking so low?”
“Tink is sleep.”
“Oh, ok. That must’ve just happened.”
“Which means we got 'bout fifteen minutes, give or take,” he said, hurrying out of his t-shirt and tossing it to the floor.
Her head jerked forward, lips pursed, but she was only partially confused now. “Um, to do what?”
Ignoring her completely, he curved his arms around her waist and licked his lips, trailing wet kisses at the crook of her neck.
“Nope.” She whipped around to face him, throwing her hands up to his bare chest before he could wrap her up too tightly. Or get her too loose.
“Why not?”
He was frowning like she was the one not making any sense. So, naturally, she frowned back, aware that he was the actual crazy person.
“Baby, what if she wakes up? What if she walks in here?”
He shrugged. “Lock the door.”
“But, then, what if she needs one of us and we’re in here with the door locked? Being nasty.”
“Baby, I need you.”
“Mike, you gotta focus, boo,” she instructed, snapping her fingers near his face. “Focus.”
He sighed and dropped his head in defeat. He knew she was right, but his hunger was outpacing all of his good sense right now. “If she needs one of us, I can move quickly.”
“Ok, but she’s right in our bed. What if she hears something? She could be scarred for the rest of her little life.”
“Simple. You the loud one. Just be quiet.”
Her eyes widened as her jaw fell slack, into a smile. “Not ‘Mr. huff and puff, moan and groan’ tryna play me--” They both ducked into near-silent laughter, throwing their hands up to catch the noise before it could go too far. “You be quiet, too, shit.”
“Ok, ok. I will. So, come ooon.” He pressed his body against her plushness, allowing her to feel all the frustration he'd been carrying around with him. Her stomach did a violent flip.
“Mike… I don’t know about this.” She bit her bottom lip, carefully sliding her hands down to his abs, knowing she was very close to giving in. He knew it, too.
“Mama… please," he whispered right against her ear, grazing it lightly with his soft lips. "You know you love the way I make you feel.”
He raised one of her legs and pushed himself even closer, sinking his starving fingers into the suppleness of her thigh. The desperation in his words as well as his unsteady movements had her soaking her panties.
“Baby,” she released a frustrated sigh, “...we can’t. Not while Tink’s in here.”
“But she’s asleep, Crys. Come on, we wastin' precious time.”
She stared at him for a second, just to see how serious he was. He stared back with the eyes of a man who didn’t have a playing bone in his body. Without warning, he grabbed her waist and lifted her up onto the sink, sending more than a few of her products tumbling. One even rolled onto the floor.
“Michael!” she whispered, intensely.
“Just let me…” he begged, going straight for her lips. She dodged his kiss, but his hand was caressing her thigh and slowly creeping up her shorts. “Let me make that pussy feel good.”
She gasped when his lips touched her neck right as those filthy words entered her ears. He was talking to her like their baby wasn’t right in the next room. His brain wasn’t in full control and hers was about to follow, her glossy walls clenching around nothing, begging to be touched.
"But, babe, you know it's just a cat nap. She ain't even sleep for real," she breathed, eyes closed, neck stretched out and giving him more space.
"We got 'bout ten minutes now."
He was relentless. In the moment, there was only one logical thing she could think to do. She knew she would pay handsomely for it later, but that was a problem for future Crystal. “…Tink, baby, daddy’s home!” she suddenly yelled, covering her face right after.
She watched through her fingers as he backed away, blinking slowly, eyes wide. “Crys…” he whispered. She licked her tongue out at him, laughing uncontrollably at the genuine shock in his expression. He shook his head, unable to hold his laughs seeing her lose it. "I can't believe you, girl.”
"I'm sorryyyy! I didn't know what else to doooo!"
His head slumped back and he huffed toward the ceiling, so dramatically. Of course, she just laughed harder. About two seconds later, Tink ran into the bathroom with a huge smile, rubbing the residual sleep from her eyes. “Daddyyyy!”
“Tiiiiiink!” He scooped his baby girl up, peppering kisses onto her cute little face through her giggles. Then he turned back to Crys swinging her legs up on the sink, and cupped his hand over Tink's ear. “That ass gettin' put smoove through the mattress tonight. Believe that.” Crys' mouth dropped. He'd spoken softly, but he didn't want that to curb the severity of his statement. “And I'm not playin'.”
"Oop!" She pulled her lips in and bit them, letting her head fall. She knew she was in trouble, but it was undoubtedly her favorite kind. She couldn't wait for the sun to go down. "Well, put me through it then."
you watched elias with immense admiration as he got dressed, the way he coordinated every piece of clothing to fit together and match was something so attractive to you.
it was no understatement he was the dandiest nigga in the delta — and he looked damn good. the nice shine of gold stuck out from the grill piece on his peary white teeth to the cufflink that had his initials “e.m.” on them.
“baby which tie should i wear?” stack questioned while holding two of them up in your vanity mirror. you were still stuck in your own world of admiring your man, you didn’t hear him.
stack confused on why you didn’t answer, looked up to meet your gaze in the mirror. he saw the damn near blissed out look your had in your doe eyes and a light smirk appeared on his face.
he turned around facing you, bending down to your eye level. “you listening baby?”
blinking out your dazed state, your head tilted back some to look at him. “hmm? what did you say?”
“you ain’t hear a thing i just said?”, southern draw evident in his voice with a hint of teasing.
“it’s okay pretty, i know what you want”, he said it like he already knew which he did. he knew his lady like the back of his hand, and even though she wouldn’t always ask for him to pleasure her—he always did.
leaning back up, he grabbed you by the waist and picked you up with ease. sitting down on the edge of the bed and plopping you right on the fat of his clothed thigh.
your nightgown raised up a little, showing the cute black lacey panties you had on. stack made himself comfortable, leaning back. “come on sweetheart, you know what to do”, giving your bottom a light tap to encourage you.
you let out a sigh of pleasure and relief as you began to slowly rock your hips against his thigh. you had a thing for the bliss he was able to bring you without even touching your pussy.
like clockwork, your essence began to leak through your panties and eventually onto his slacks. “you making a mess on my new pants, you gon lick it right on up too, right?”, he asked looking straight in your eyes.
small whimpers left your mouth before you answered with a yes. “good now make yourself cum baby. i want your sweet smell on me all day.”
a/n:: literally wrote this in twenty minutes so its not my best work. i saw yall liked the last lil drabble so i wanted to continue. dandy!stack is now something stamped😏!
Note: I'm feral for this man and this song + struggling w my writing format ( im new to this omg )
JADED | AARON PIERRE.
Toxic!Terry Richmond x Black!Female Reader.
warnings: MNDI!! this story is 18+ with depictions of but not limited to; sexual content ( finger!ng), extreme language (cursing, use of n-word, use of b-word), talking you through it. lil bit of exhibitionism if you squint, mild daddy k!nk.
summary: in which you decide to end the toxic situation-ship you share with Terry— except this man only know how to suck you back in.
tell me that we locked in, locked in, look in my eyes.
tell me that you mine and we ain't just fuckin, ain't just vibin.
Why were you nervous? It wasn't like you'd never been in the very same GMC pickup before—oh you'd been in here plenty times, plenty times. Your eyes flickered to whatever they could, other than him.
The backseat.
The same backseat you'd been folded. flipped, and fucked out on. It was clean now, he'd definitely had some detailing done, the remnants of how he made you squirt only two weeks earlier had vanished, once etched into the seat itself.
And why were you sad about that?
You averted your eyes away from the backseat, firmly turning straight forward in the passenger seat, teeth nervously gnawing at the skin in your jaw. It was way too silent and tense in the truck. Way too silent. "Hi..” you sheepishly muttered, tucking a stray curl from your wash and go behind your ear, eyes darting around the parking lot of your apartment complex. The parking lot was the safest option for you, you knew how incredibly intoxicating Terry was, which meant the more space from your bedroom, the better.
Out of your peripheral, you could see Terry's face contorted into a twisted mix of confusion anger. His brows furrowed together, a mug presenting itself on his face. "What the fuck?" He spat. "Wassup?" He asked, his tone more accusatory than anything.
Where the fuck did he get off acting hurt and confused? That was supposed to be your stance in this whole thing, hurt and confused. And most of the time it was. But tonight, it was a nice change of pace, the hurt and confusion lingered on Terry instead—in which you could finally take on the nonchalant and curt demeanor. It felt so good too. So good to finally not be the one with the lump in their throat, eyes burning from blinking back tears. This felt, good.
"Nothin', just chillin," you simply responded, playing with the smartphone in your lap, acrylic nails tapping at the casing.
"Fuck you mean just chillin?" He asked his brows furrowed as he tried to catch your darting eyes. "You ain't been seein' me text you?"
"Yeah?" You responded slowly in a questioning tone, as you focused on the ASICS on your feet. "Been busy lately."
You seen Terry texts. Shit, the past couple of days he'd been the one blowing you up. It started the other night when he rung your bell and you didn't answer, you knew it was him, and he knew you were home. Lights still on and bright in the kitchen.
Private Ryan: Just rung the bell
Private Ryan: Come out.
Private Ryan: I'm sorry for the way I acted the other night. I ain't handle that situation like a man. Lemme make it up to u
It was so hard ignoring Terry, he made it hard. He didn't text or call often, he wasn't hardcore into his phone like the rest of the generation, maybe the marines played a part in that? Hell, he made sure to stay active in an effort not to get addicted to his cellular device—that's why when he texted it was a big deal.
But no way this nigga thought that you'd be at his every beck and call when he couldn't even solidify a title between the two of you? Casual sex and jealousy gets old—especially when it isn't under the terms of a relationship.
It was fun at first, linking up and sneaking off. Getting folded like a lawn chair when you least expected it, but there was something about Terry that brung the strings to a no-strings-attached situation. You started craving him, wanting him, and you made that very clear, but Terry made his intentions crystal clear from the beginning. How could you fault him for not wanting what you want? But how he could he also fault you for the change in your attitude?
"Busy?" He repeated the word like it disgusted him. His burning gaze tore through you, you could feel the heat radiating from his glare. Terry let out a heavy breath, gently tapping his fist against the staring wheel as he finally averted his gaze to the windshield. Thank Q!
But as he tore his gaze away from you, you centered yours on him. And why the fuck would you go and do that? Knowing how gorgeous he was, especially when he was pissed off? Clenching and unclenching his jaw. He had some nerve coming over here with a fresh cut. Everything so lined up and sexy—
"I came over here, a few days ago," he sternly spoke, the rough edge to his voice only setting off the throbbing in your pussy, "and you know that 'cause you was home, lights on and shit, I'm textin' you and you reading the shit in real time. What the fuck?" He repeated the three words once again. His voice growing rougher by the second.
"Two weeks ago, I'm fillin' you up and today you actin' cold as hell? Fuck is goin on?"
And why did he keep saying all the wrong shit? Filling you up was an understatement, he was stuffing you to the brim quite literally, to the point where he had bottomed out and was still tryna give you more. Filling you up, ha.
"I can't do this anymore, Terry," the words came out of your mouth abruptly, almost like you could trust yourself to say them. Terry sat there unwavering, he didn't speak, he didn't move. This only prompted you to continue. "It's too much, we both want...different things. And I'm tired of feeling like I'm overextending myself to you, being too available for you. I can't do...whatever this is anymore."
"Pea..”
"Don't do that," you firmly responded. The direct eye contact didn't seem to deter you this time. There he went. Playing those mind games. Calling you that nickname. Pea. A shorter version of the popular nickname your grandfather frequently referred to you as, sweet pea.
Terry kissed his teeth. Oh he thought he knew what was up. It'd became clear as a day. "You fuckin' somebody else." The words came out soft, quiet almost as if there had been a realization.
You let out a heavy sigh, your eyes rolling at the comment, " I'm not having sex with anyone, Terry." You spoke truthfully. As if you could. He made that hard enough, he stuffed you perfectly. He knew how to find that spot inside of you so easily, almost like he vacationed there in his spare time. He knew exactly what made your eyes roll back, what made that squeal in the back of your throat come barreling out, he knew your body too well to let anyone else come and have a gander.
"But I am dating," you said more quietly than you anticipated. Maybe it's because the recent dates haven't been anything to brag about. Not that your online dating profile and messages to your homegirl hadn't been highly specific, you've been attracting the same types. Baby daddies and men way too old to still be trying to just hook up. "And I know what I want, and it's not this...anymore. I wanna be able to climb in bed with a man and wake up beside him too, and not worry about him being hot or cold, or when I'll see him again," yuck. Why did you feel that damn lump in your throat again?
"I'm so tired of feeling disposable." You finalized. Flashing your watery eyes to the window adjacent to you. You weren't gonna cry in front of him. Shit, you weren't that tender. But all your feelings hitting you at once in this situation made you more emotional than you gambled for. You knew the nonchalant facade would only last so long on you. Terry was trained in that shit. He had a poker face like no other.
Terry didn't deter his gaze from you, his gorgeous eyes soft and lingering. "I don't try to make you feel disposable, Pea."
"Yeah, well, you don't have to try. You just do." You mumbled quietly. "That's why I don't wanna do this shit anymore."
Terry kept his eyes on you, reaching his large hand out to grasp your smaller one at a failed attempt at interlacing your fingers when you snatched away.
"Stop, Terry!" You frowned folding your arms. "I'm serious. No more calling, and texting, and popping up at my place."
He barely acknowledged you, kissing his teeth and leaning over the center console to rub his hand across your tummy, gripping your sides. "Why you actin' like that? Like you don't miss daddy?" He mumbled softly, pressing soft kisses to your temple.
This man didn't give up. Your restraint was at zero, and just like that you were putty.
You shook your head, arms still crossed as you let out a small whimper in which you claimed to be a protest. Eyes lowering at his wandering hands. "Hm, you don't miss daddy?" He asked in response, his hand sliding back over your tummy, fingers fondling with the button on your shorts.
This is exactly what you wanted to avoid, that was the whole point of the parking lot. Far away from a bed. But you should've known that you didn't need a bed with Terry.
And yet, just like a dumb bitch you shook your head once again. Playing into his sick little game.
He trailed his soft, teasing lips down your cheek until he reached your neck, leaving a searing trail behind on the skin there. You sucked your bottom lip in, a solid attempt at trying to keep whatever moans he was pulling out of you at bay. You couldn't betray yourself even more than you had already done. You came down here to end things, and instead you were about to get folded in half once again. The circle of life if you will.
"You don't miss me? So why you lettin' me take these off you right now?" He asked. Oh he was soo condescending. He tugged on the bottom of your shorts, and look at you, lifting up to help him earning a chuckle. You were so easy. "Nipples been hard ever since I touched you," he mumbled in between kisses to your neck, his hand busying itself up to your breast while your shorts slid down your legs, rubbing your hardened nipple through the thin fabric of your tank top.
You suck in a sharp breath. Your body was on fire. You felt like you were on fire. Every kiss made you hotter, and the way he was touching you had your pussy fluttering. You had to be ovulating, this shit wasn't normal.
"That pussy so wet, I know it," he spoke, his voice lower, lips sucking on the thin flesh on the side of your neck, hand roughly parting your thighs earning another isolated whimper from you. His hand rubbing the inside of your thighs, leaving a lingering tingle behind. He was such a fucking tease sometimes.
He kissed his way back to your cheek, all the while his hands left soft slaps, and grips to your inner thigh. Your eyes fluttered closed at his constant teasing, breathing uneven as hell. You felt like you were swelling with need.
"Look at you, baby," he hummed against your ear, "you a horny fuckin' mess," he tsk'd in your ear, fingers dancing over to your pussy. Fingers lazing dancing over your slit through the thin fabric of your panties. A shaky breath slipped past your lips a soft drawn out moan following. Hell, the betrayal was already done.
"Niggas not treatin' my bitch right, huh?" He rhetorically asked referring to your dates, his own eyes focusing on the lazy dance his fingers were doing on your barely exposed pussy, until he quickly got bored and used those same fingers to move the fabric aside. "Can't be, otherwise you wouldn't be this fuckin' turned on right now." He answered his own questions, fingers immediately doing slow, hypnotizing circles on your clit.
"Fuhhh," you moaned out in response, arms immediately parting so that you could grip onto the sides of your seat for a sense of stability.
"Mhm," he hummed in response, "pussy wet just like I thought," he mumbled dragging his pointer and middle finger up and down your pussy a few times before slowly slipping the both of them in your heated core at once earning a choked out moan from you. You fit around his fingers so perfectly, almost as if he'd molded your pussy to do so.
His brows furrowed as his fingers searched inside of her, knuckle deep, "fuck," he cursed, "look how you suckin' my fingers in you like that. You missed daddy, this fuckin' pussy missed me."
It wasn't like you could respond at all, he was literally pulling your moans out of you with his fingers. His free hand had busied itself with pulling up your tank top and exposing your braless titties.
"Look how you came out here," he kissed his teeth, fingers massaging your slippery insides, the lewd sounds of your pussy squelching on his fingers filled the pickup truck, his other fingers pulling and tugging on your hardened nipples, squeezing softly before quickly pulling away. "Barely fuckin' dressed, you wanted this. You wanted daddy to get you right, huh?"
"Talkin' about' dates, you don't want them fuckin' clowns," he hummed peppering soft kisses on your cheek, his fingers attacking that delicious spot inside of you. "You just want daddy to flood that pussy again? Make you his bitch?"
"Oouu shit, daddy!" You moaned out, eyes squeezing shut as your head lazily fell against his shoulder. Him humming in agreement to your moans followed by a cocky chuckle. "Right there, right there!" You rushed out. Your resolve had slipped away a long time ago.
"Where baby?" He cooed,his tone condescending. "Right here?" He asked his fingers never deterring from the spot, instead he pushed them deeper, faster.
Your eyes rolled back into your head as his fingers continued to work inside of you, he whispered other obscenities to you as he finger fucked you good. Deliciously good. So good that you couldn't decipher or comprehend anything he'd been saying. The sound of your pussy around his fingers was sending you to another bliss you didn't know you could reach.
"Listen to how messy that pussy sound on my fingers, baby," he groaned, his free hand gripping your face firmly, tilting your head up from his shoulder so that he could watch your facial expressions closely. He smiled as he watched you; eyes squeezed shut, lips forming into that familiar frown he knew so well, a long whine following suit.
"Yeah, that pussy wanna cum for daddy don't she?" He asked placing a sloppy kiss on your parted lips.
"Oh my god," you whined your brows furrowing as you opened your watery eyes to Terry looking down right at you.
"Yeah, she do," he mumbled nodding his eyes focusing in on the assault his fingers were doing to your pussy before slipping them out slowly, rubbing the stickiness he accumulated on his fingers onto your clit in slow, agonizing circles earning a whine from you. "You better not fuckin' cum though," he mumbled quietly to you, hand softly tapping against your cheek.
"Don't..cum?" You slurred through a moan for confirmation. You could barely comprehend what he was saying, you were so deliciously close. So close.
"Don't cum," he slapped his finger against your pussy lightly, the wet plaps almost enough to send you over the edge. Only almost though. "Get in the backseat, I wanna get in that pussy." He spoke hand slapping down on your sensitive pussy once again, sending trembles to your already weakened legs.
—
cheers to my first fanfic on here lolz! feedback and criticism always welcome 💗💕 hope you enjoyed xx!
Loud music, smoked dusted walls and people to fill out rooms. And there he was, your best friend, Cameron Cade. The golden boy himself. Everybody thought yall was dating and you both, always denied it. What's the problem with being just friends?
Thats what you would always say.
Friends. Just friends. You didn't see him like that (or so you thought)
You were chilling at some party, a mixture of his friends and yours were there. They were smoking, you weren't, neither was he. You just watched out of boredom. You talked with your friends quietly, some of them talked about him. You lightly pull your hoodie sleeve down, adjusting to the seat. You ate some of your candy that you got from one of the snack corners.
"Well if you like him so much, you go talk to him," You tell your friend.
She laughs quietly while shaking her head, "Nah that's all yours girl" she says nudging you.
"When yall gonna...you know?" She asks smiling. I lightly scoff, the rest of the group laughed.
"Girl please, been his friend for how long? Ion want none of that." You replied, "Not like he can handle me anyways"
"Well girl go test it out then." The teasing continued and you just rolled your eyes. Sure, Cam was sweet on you, but it's because you were his best friend. Years of connection between yall. A few simple hugs, some forehead kisses, it's not what you think.
Cameron was on the other side of house. He would look over, eyeing you from time to time.
"You sure you dont wanna?" One of his friends asked. He removed the blunt from his mouth and passed it over to him. Cameron glanced at the blunt making its way around the circle, watching it pass from hand to hand before it finally reached him. He barely hesitated before shaking his head, leaning back into the couch instead.
“Nah,” he muttered, waving it off.
“C’mon, Cade,” someone groaned, holding it out toward him again. “Just one.”
He huffed a quiet laugh under his breath, running a hand over the back of his neck. “Coach would kill me, bad enough im around all this"
A few of the guys chuckled. “Man, you’re no fun,” another voice said from somewhere across the room. Cameron only smirked, stretching his legs out in front of him as he let the blunt pass to the next person.
“I like winning more,” he said simply. For a moment the conversation drifts, music thumping low through the speakers, someone arguing about last week’s game. Then one of the guys nudges Cameron’s shoe with his own.
“Aight, Mr. Discipline,” he says, squinting at him. “So if you ain’t smoking, why you even here?”
Cameron shrugs, gaze drifting toward the window. “Just came through.”
“Man, stop lying,” another voice cuts in with a laugh. “You only showed up ’cause y/n was supposed to be here.”
Cam stops and a couple of the guys snicker. Cam's head tilts slightly. “I didn’t say that.”
“But you ain’t deny it either,” someone adds. He lets out a quiet breath through his nose, shaking his head a little, but the corner of his mouth lifts. “Y’all talk too much.”
“Yeah, yeah,” the first guy grins. “So what is it with you and her anyway?”
Cameron leans back deeper into the couch, eyes dropping to the floor for a second like he’s thinking about the answer longer than he should. “Nothing,” he says finally. "Same shit I tell yall, just came through"
They let the convo die down, for a bit. On your side, you still heard a little bit of this and that with your friends, but mostly tuned it out. Another topic got brought up, the conversations kept shifting every few minutes. Someone starts talking about classes, another person jumps in complaining about a professor. You hear pieces of it, laughs, someone arguing about a game, a couple people debating where to go after this, but most of it fades into background noise.
You nod when someone looks your way, half-smiling at the right moments, but your mind isn’t really there anymore.
It keeps drifting.
Back toward the couch across the room.
Back toward Cameron.
You don’t mean to look, but your eyes slide over anyway, catching the sight of him leaning back like he always does, calm, relaxed. One arm draped over the couch, while the guys around him talk over each other. He looked like he was trying to get into it, but seemed unbothered by it all.
For a second, you watch him longer than you should, studying the way he laughs at something someone says, or the small shake of his head after.
Then you quickly look away, pretending to focus on the conversation in front of you again.
You could admit he was handsome, too damn handsome. Funny, and smart.
There was this time at his house, he had just gotten off practice. So, being bored you decided to come over. You were sprawled out on his couch in your college hoodie, half listening to him talk about some girl he used to date. Some pretty girl from the dance team, you knew that wasn't gonna last long. He went on about, why it didn't work out, something about her being too busy, or him caring too much about football. It seemed like background noise at first, you've heard it time again and again. But, the more you heard, the more your chest felt tight.
Was it jealously? Couldn't be.
You didn't like him like that you kept repeating to yourself. So why is him talking about another girl bothering you to the bone? Why does it matter who he dates? Why can't you even focus on what he's saying right now? You were staring at him, but weren't even listening.
Unfortuatly, that feeling grew. But all you could do, was suppress it.
You finally remember you're at a party, but your thoughts are already somewhere else. Why am I even here? You already know the answer. It’s stupid, honestly. You told yourself you were just stopping by for a bit, that you weren’t coming to see anyone in particular. But your eyes had found him the second he walked in.
You drag your stare away quickly, pretending to pay attention to the conversation again. Occasionally looking at your short french tips, but the words barely register. All you can think about is the way he’s sitting over there, like nothing’s changed, like he hasn’t noticed you at all.
Maybe that’s what bothers you the most.
You shift in your seat, tugging lightly at the sleeve of your hoodie before finally exhaling under your breath. Hours went. Games and drinking followed. Your head pounded with thoughts.
“I think I’m gonna head home,” you say suddenly.
Your friend glances over. “Already, you ain't been here long"
You shrug, forcing a small smile. “Yeah. I’m kinda tired, all the smoke n stuff."
But the truth is, you just don’t feel like sitting across the room pretending you’re not thinking about him anymore. And before you can second-guess it, you’re already standing up. A couple people glance up when you move, conversations dipping for a second before picking back up again. You tug lightly at the sleeve and step away from the group, weaving through the living room.
You can feel a few eyes following you.
But you don’t slow down. Your gaze is already fixed on the couch across the room, on him.
Cam’s still there, leaning back with the guys. One arm rests along the back of the couch, his head tilted slightly while someone beside him talks. His hair low cut and jaw lightly flexed, clearly not interested in the conversation.
Then he notices you.
His eyes lift, locking onto you as you get closer.
He straightens just a little.
You stop in front of him.
“Hey,” you say, keeping your voice casual.
“Hey,” Cameron replies, brows pulling together slightly like he’s trying to read your expression. "You good?"
You shift your weight. “You mind taking me home?” you ask. “I’m ready to go.” He doesn’t hesitate, as if he was ready to leave himself.
“Yeah,” he says, already leaning forward, grabbing his hoodie from the arm of the couch.
Someone nearby lets out a quiet laugh. “Damn, Cade.”
Cam ignores it, pulling the hoodie over his head before standing up. He glances down at you. “You good?” he asks again.
You nod. “Yeah. Just tired.”
He studies your face for a second like he’s deciding whether to ask more, but then he jerks his head toward the door.
“C’mon.”
And just like that, he’s walking out with you, with no problem. Cam walks out first holding the door open for you. You give a small nod and start walking to his car. “Thanks,” you say, giving a small nod, your hands tucked into your hoodie pockets.
“Anything for you,” he says casually, tilting his head just enough to meet your eyes. That wasn't helping your thoughts. Each one of them getting louder and clearer. He stood taller than you. His tone lightly tired, but there’s that quiet weight behind it that makes your heart skip.
You fall into step beside him, the cool night air brushing past. “Long night,” you mutter, more to yourself than him.
He glances at you, one eyebrow just slightly raised. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” you say again, shrugging. “Thought I’d get out before it got later than I already feel.” Cam didn't answer right away. He just keeps walking, silent but aware, like he’s cataloging every little thing about how you move, how you breathe, how you’re holding yourself.
After a moment, he says softly, “Smart.” You glance at him sideways, almost catching the corner of a smirk.
“You’re always so… you know,” you lightly tease.
"Like what?" He asks looking at you.
“Like nothing can shake you.”
He shrugs, opening the door. “Not always” he says. The answer of it makes it feel heavier than just words. You slide into the passenger seat, and he closes the door behind you with a quiet click. The engine hums to life, and suddenly it’s just the two of you. You both sat in silence, the radio played quietly.
But there it was. The feelings swirling over you. The thoughts of him, and you. Together in ways that definitely weren't for just friends. The tension—, the tension that’s been simmering under the surface for years. And you wonder if he ever felt it too. It seemed ridiculous to ask, because you knew how he was, but maybe, just maybe it was different with you. The drive is quiet, the streetlights passing overhead in slow streaks. You’re tucked into the passenger seat, hoodie pulled a little tighter around yourself, while Cameron keeps his eyes on the road, hands steady on the wheel.
˖ ᡣ𐭩
He pulls into your driveway. The engine hums low as he kills it, and for a moment, neither of you moves. The quiet is comfortable, but it makes your heart beat faster than usual.
“So…” you start, glancing at him sideways, “what are you gonna do now?”
More of like, "I don't really wanna leave yet"
He shrugs, one corner of his mouth lifting just slightly. “Probably head home. Do practice … or, I dunno, watch something.” You can feel the unspoken tension in the way he looks at you.
You felt like the words spoken were enough, so you reach for the door, pulling the seatbelt free. As you're about to go, he gently lays a hand on your wrist. “Hold up for a second, we gotta talk,” he says, and suddenly there’s a shift in the energy of the car.
"Wassup?" You ask him a lil confused. He leans over just slightly, tilting his head with that quiet, teasing expression he always wears, and taps his cheek gently. Not demanding, but just enough to make it obvious what he wanted.
You blink, then let out a soft laugh, shaking your head a little. “You’re ridiculous, like actually ” you murmur.
“Yeah,” he says, leaning just slightly closer, the corner of his mouth twitching like he’s enjoying himself, “You love me.”
Your chest tightens. “I do not,” you snap softly, though you can’t stop the small smile tugging at your lips.
“Uh-huh, cmon now” he murmurs, voice dropping low, quiet enough that it feels like it’s meant just for you. His hand shifts a fraction on the console between you, brushing close to yours without actually touching, just enough to make your fingers itch to reach for him. You wanted to, but didn't.
You lean in, pressing your lips to his cheek. Soft and cute. Like normal. The sound of your laugh mixes with the quiet night outside. Neither of you moves to leave just yet. You pull back slightly, still smiling, and your eyes meet his. His gaze locks onto yours and for the first time tonight, it feels like all the tension that’s been building between you, has a chance to breathe.
"Happy?" You asks chuckling.
He nods, giving that smile that you like. You bite on your tongue, trying to stop anything wrong from leaving your lips.
Friends. Thats it.
"Why"d you wanna leave?" He asks suddenly.
"Told you, just tired" you replied, hoping he would leave it at that. But he knew you, he knew it was something else.
"Nah, cmon tell me y/n" he asks you again staring. He had a feeling of what it was, but he wanted you to say it. You rolled your eyes lightly, "You know what it is, about us, being friends"
“Friends, huh?” he says, the corner of his mouth pulling into a small smirk. “Just friends?”
“Yeah… friends.” He watches you for a second, quiet like he’s turning the words over in his head. Then he leans a little closer in his seat, not crowding you, just enough that you notice. “Yeah?” he says softly. “That what you call it?”
You stare at him, little caught off. “What else would it be?”
Cam lets out a small breath through his nose, almost amused. “I mean… yeah,” he says. “We are friends.”
You nod, a little surprised he didn’t argue. “But,” he continues, tilting his head slightly, “you and I both know we close.”
Your fingers fidget in your lap. “Friends can be close.”
“Sure,” he says easily. “Ain’t saying they can’t.” His eyes flick over your face again, like he’s catching every little reaction.
“Just feels like lately it’s been… different.”
You look away. “Different how?”
He shrugs one shoulder. “Just different.”
The corner of his mouth lifts again. “And you know what I mean.”
"Well that's not helping is it?" you say rolling your eyes.
But you did know. You’ve felt it too—the small pauses, the looks that last a little longer than they used to, the way sitting next to him suddenly makes you more aware of everything, even the subtle touches with him. But you keep telling yourself it’s nothing. Just friends. But here he was, singing a whole new tune.
“Look,” he says after a moment, voice calm. “I ain’t trying to make it weird or nothing.” Your eyes flick back to him.
“We friends,” he repeats simply. “That’s not changing.” Then he adds, a little quieter, “Just saying… sometimes stuff shifts.”
There’s a short silence.
Then he glances at you again, that easy smirk coming back. “And if I’m wrong, I’m wrong.”
He leans back slightly in his seat after that, like the conversation doesn’t bother him either way, but the way he looks at you says he definitely noticed something. You take in everything, so, clearly he's noticed it too. Way to go y/n for trynna be subtle.
"I dont like you, like that. I could kiss you and id be fine."
You didn't think the words would come out that fast, but they did. You wish you could take them back but they were already out.
Cameron’s eyebrows lift a little, the first real break in his calm expression. “You could what?”
You curse calmly, trying to act normal. “I’m just saying. It wouldn’t mean anything. We’re friends.”
He looks at you for a second, quiet, then the corner of his mouth pulls into a slow smile. “Wouldn’t mean anything, huh?”
You shake your head, staring out the windshield. “Nope.”
“That’s a crazy thing to say,” he mutters.
"Why?”
He shifts back in his seat, one arm resting along the console, still relaxed. “’Cause now I’m tryna figure out if you serious… or just talking.”
“I’m serious.”
“Yeah?” he says, tilting his head slightly.
You nod once. “Yeah.”
He lets out a quiet breath through his nose. “Aight.”
You blink at him. “That’s it?”
Cam glances back at you, calm as ever. “What you want me to do?” he says. “You the one said it wouldn’t mean nothing.”
“I didn’t say you had to do anything.”
He shrugs. “Exactly, and I told you already… I ain’t doing nothing unless you do something.”
The silence after that feels heavier than before.
You look at him for a second too long. He doesn’t move, just watches you like he’s got all the patience in the world.
“You serious?” you mutter.
“Yeah,” he says simply. “Dead serious.”
You hesitate, then lean over before you can think too hard about it.
You glance down to his lips, his mouth in a small smirk.
"Stop smiling" you tell him, he smirks wider. You press your glossy lips to his, kissing him quick.
You pull back fast, sitting straight again like nothing happened.
“See?” you say, trying to sound casual. “Told you.”
For a moment Cameron doesn’t say anything.
“Nothing?” he repeats.
“Yeah.”
He studies your face for a second, quiet again. The car feels smaller somehow. “You sure about that?” he says.
You shrug. “Pretty sure.”
Cameron lets out a small breath through his nose, like he doesn’t believe you for a second. “Aight,” he says again, nodding slowly.
You start to slowly open the door, again. You figured you had embarrassed yourself enough. Perhaps you could distract yourself from this whole day or maybe sleep the feelings off. But, before you can, his hand lightly taps the side of your knee, stopping you. “C’mere a second.”
You glance at him. “Why?”
He tilts his head slightly, that calm look still on his face. “Just come here.”
Your heart starts beating fast, but you lean a little closer. For a moment he just looks at you, like he’s deciding something.
“Yeah,” he murmurs.
“Yeah what?” you ask.
Then he leans in and kisses you. Warm and slow, in a way perfect, giving the smallest bit of attention to your bottom lip. Like he’s actually trying it, instead of proving a point.
When he pulls back, he watches your reaction for a second. You sat there, staring him. He actually kissed you. Not a cheek kiss, not a forehead kiss, but a kiss that you've thought about multiple times. A small part of you felt a small relief and a sudden finally. But the other part shot up fast and went straight to the warmest parts of your body. Your eyes tried focusing on him while your hands fixed to stay in your lap and not pull him close. And he noticed.
“Yeah,” he says casually low. “That definitely wasn't nothing.”
He pulled back slightly, just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and questioning. You didn't stop him. You couldn't. You needed this, craved this.
"You want another one?" He asked quiet.
Maybe the smell of his cologne was getting to you, or maybe the taste of his fainted peppermint gum from the kiss. Or maybe how he always cared about you, busting his ass for you like it was no problem.
You liked it. You liked him. You then slowly nod your head at him.
He listened and leaned in again to kiss you. It was gentle. A soft brush, barely there, then gone. Then some more.
Kiss—stop—kiss—stop
Each brush of his lips sent another confirmation to yourself, your mind started to stutter, trying to process the sensation. That familiar sweetness from his gum, felt so intimate. Your own lips tingled, wanting more from him. He watched you the whole time with that calm look in his eyes, as if he knew exactly the chaos he was pouring inside you.
જ pairing:Toji Fushiguro x Onyankopon x Black!reader
જwarningノtags:cowboy!Ony◞ cowboy!Toji◞ my boys are both country as hell!◞ brat!reader, grumpy!Ony◞ Megumi & Shiu mentioned◞ Megumi Thee Stallion [ literally ]◞ poly relationship [ m+f+m ]◞ reader has a pixie cut [ briefly mentioned ]◞ pet names [ SweetheartノDarlin’ノPeachノLove ]◞ fluff◞ suggestive in some parts but doesn’t cross the line.
જwc:4k
જan:just spending time with your rootin tootin cowboy lovers. No smut unfortunately, wanted to explore my fluffiness to the fullest. this is kinda a soft launch for my pending series, an intro post if you will…bye.
Sometimes the southern heat was just overbearing; if another layer of clothing wasn't peeled away quickly, you swore you could burst into flames like an unlucky vampire caught in the deadly webs of sunrise. Heatless copper dyed spirals laid obediently in gel—a white scarf tied around the surrounding area as a fashion statement while matching swirls curled at your temples. Cinnamon tinted moles sprinkled across your cheeks sparkled with sweat as you tried oh-so desperately to ignore the sun devilish presence. Dark washed and dirt stained overalls sat loosely on the crisp white tee that soaked in sorrow.
Another annoyed groan vibrated deep in your chest. Frustration wasn't even the word for what creeped deep beneath your bones.
You huffed in defeat, almond shaped manicure glistening under the sun's harsh rays once your bubble gum pink gardening gloves were flung from your palms. Your breathing starts to stutter as you try to keep your tears from bleeding through the concrete dam hidden behind your eyes.
You've been sweating buckets since you stepped foot from your wooden porch. Uprooting those invading, stubborn weeds from your stubborn Pentas has officially worn you out. Hours of hard labor for your garden to still look untouched—almost like you never stepped foot outside in the first place. Your beautiful star shaped flowers that attracted the most vibrant, joyful butterflies and hummingbirds weren't what they used to be; once full of life became an eyesore for anyone that analyzed your plants.
As much as the beautiful array of flowers shaped your garden, the pests and weeds that hounded were burdensome—damaging months of hard work in mere seconds. The forest green foliage might seem appealing to the naked eye, but spider mites lurked deeply in the cracks of the crops and damaged any and everything in sight.
Standing with a groan and an alarming sound of your joints popping, you watched your pedicured feet take turns on the freshly cut grass that led back to your porch. Defeat laid comfortably on your shoulders, tear ducts swollen from pending tears.
Stupid plants.
Distant clouds held the weight of a thunderstorm, the smell of the breeze carrying the scent of rain and sadness; the sun was oblivious to the storm brewing. The wind blew, but not the kind you wanted—it blew hot and sticky, like the first few seconds of an oven opening, making you feel more icky. Trees waved at you in the distance while the cries of your wind chimes touched gave subtle a warning.
"I know you're not sheddin' tears over those flowers, Sweets." Toji could read you like a book even if it was sealed shut and buried six feet under. He emerged from the darkness of the house like a DC villain, the screen door clapped loudly behind him; your furry pets tilted their heads in confusion when they weren't immediately let out.
Full lashes kissed at his cheeks—heavy eyelids making his appearance more intimidating. Even with half his eyesight, his shaded gaze weighed heavily on your figure. A half smoked cigarette slept lazily between his lips, glowing a deep crimson before grey smoke poured from his nose.
You jumped at the sudden noise; a sniffle and a quick wipe to your swollen eyes later and you almost looked normal. To whom? You don't know.
"M'not," You lie, avoiding his siren stare.
"Don't bullshit me, woman. Jus' watched it happen with my own two eyes." Toji wore the sweat on his temple proudly, the absence of his hat being the sole reason why he came back to the house and found you whimpering over plants. The metal porch railing held his tilted weight with ease.
A dark brown cowboy hat with his initials scorched deeply into the side casted a ominous shadow on his face, making his stare more menacing.
"If you knew then why'd you ask?" You followed his bulky shadow as it loomed over you like bad news. With the cigarette tucked between his pink lips he mumbled "watch that mouth," before blowing smoke in your direction.
"Asked to see if you would lie. And you did. 'Told you about that."
You rolled your eyes mumbling a quiet apology while your arms crossed over your chest. "Just upset right now, Toj’."
Silver poured like a fountain from his lips as he eyed you from afar. Clouded rings floated from his face as he squinted, his heavy head tilting to the left.
"Didn't we tell you to stop poutin' over those plants or am I goin’ crazy?” As he awaited your answer another wave of smoke surrounded you.
“You did.”
“We also told you we'd get someone out here to look at 'em because it somethin' out of your control. Did we not?”
He searched heavily for your downward gaze, that bitter, toxic stench of his cigarette curling into you like bumped ends. You sighed into a nod, slowly unbuttoning the jean deathtrap you wore to create some type of air circulation through your clothes. Still, your eyebrows touched and your lip poked out.
“Yes, Toji. I remember.”
"Clearly not if I just found you, not even two weeks later, doin' the same thing.” He inhales again, this time the smoke pouring from his nose like an angry bull.
"I knoww, m'sorry. It’s jus' that I watched another video and thought it looked easy enough to try. It sucks that my green thumb was lost in transit while I was bein' brought into this cruel, cruel world…”
He watched as you explained your reasoning with a grin clawing at his lips. He could never take you seriously when you're being this dramatic. The way you flung your arms in exaggeration and how your pout deepened as the urge to cry was a blink away—it was cute.
“'Nd now you're laughin' at me! This is why I only discuss my feelings with Ony!" You wiped at the heavy, hot tears that managed to escape down your cheeks.
Toji sucked the remaining cigarette dry and tossed it behind him, his frame becoming larger then shrinking—he was now crouching and eye to eye with his pouting woman.
"Look," he sighed, "I'm not laughin’ at you or tellin' you to stop gardening—l love seein' you in your own world, but you need guidance. Even if it wasn't something out of your control, you can't just start somethin' and expect to be a master at it in a few seconds. 'Shit takes time, Darlin’. Rome wasn’t built in a day."
Well…It's true.
With every new money sucking hobby you joined overnight, there were a good three seconds where you thought you knew exactly what you were doing from just watching a single video—that is before you're bulldozed with a reality check.
Baking? Served poison on porcelain with a toothy grin and it took Onyankopon one bite into your crack brownies before telling you the harsh truth about your skills, or lack of. Crocheting? Oh gosh. If Toji wasn't holding your tablet, the comically large aluminum crochet hook would've been lodged up his nose somewhere.
From accidentally downloading a virus onto your PC from downloading links you mistaken for Sim mods, to unknowingly buying knockoff anime figures from a sketchy website that really didn't seem that sketchy, but now that you looked back it definitely looked questionable. It was all trial and error.
You lived and learned.
“Understood?”
You nodded, untying the scarf from your scalp and throwing it to the swinging bench that sat adjacent. You sigh, "Sorry for my attitude, Toji. Still workin' on my snappiness."
He flashes a grin, rough palms rubbing tight circles on the soles of your feet,"I see that and 'm proud of you. "Lots of progress is happenin’. 'Bout three years ago we would've been barkin' back and forth like dogs."
"Yea," you both shared a chuckle, "Thanks, Toji-Bear. You're too sweet to me. Even when I'm cranky and bein’ a drama queen." Dark lashes that shaped your eyes something sinister fanned in his direction, blinking slowly like a cat admiring its owner.
He grinned at his nickname, sharp canines peeking through his pink scarred lips. A soft breeze teased at the spiral ends that peeked from his hat.
"S my pleasure, Love. You know that." Toji's voice matched yours: lust-heavy, his whispered words were deeper, more core stimulating. His finger lifted the tip of his hat, allowing his features to be visible and less insidious.
"Wipe your face 'nd give me a kiss?"
"Please?" You challenged, eyebrows arching to your forehead.
He eased his body slowly between your legs like a predator stalking its prey: too slow to notice until it was too late. The heat that radiated from his torso was almost torturous between your clothed thighs. Your breath hitched as you whispered, "Say please, Toji."
"Please, Darlin?"
Before he even finished begging, his tongue was already miles ahead, meeting you halfway. Kisses from Toji were always over the top—he couldn't keep his tongue hidden behind his teeth if he tried. His heavy head tilted, desperate to get closer—deeper between your plump lips. Your squeaks are muffled and immediately swallowed and before you know it, you’re unintentionally pulling back from him. Toji's weighted, calloused palm gripped at your throat, squeezing just enough to assert dominance and to keep you anchored.
"Toji," you warned behind whimpers, "We're outside."
"Mhm," He hummed, seemingly acknowledging your concerns. He tugged at your bottom lip asking, "Who's goin' to stop me from showin' love to my woman?" He cocked his thin eyebrow, waiting on an answer to his rhetorical question then continued his pleasurable assault between your lips, his thick tongue dancing around yours. You melted into his touch, muscles relaxed and meshed into him like soft wax. Finally, he pulled away for good—lips swollen and glossed from spit.
"So pretty. 'Taste sweet, Peach"
You fake gasped, your palms hiding your gaped mouth, “Don’t be stealin’ Ony’s pet names. You know how he gets!”
He chuckles, aged joints popping as he stands at full height. “You’ right about that. Speakin’ of—Ony had his panties in a bunch since we woke up. ‘Don’t know what’s wrong with him.”
“Maybe he’s tired of dealin’ with you and Megumi and wants to see me.”
Onyankopon was definitely tired of dealing with Toji. Him and his nonstop jokes and childish antics under this type of heat? Nah. Nothing was funny in this bipolar weather.
His grin widened.
“‘S ironic that you brought him up, you know,” you quirked an eyebrow as Toji continued, “We’re about to bring Megumi out to the round pen before we’re done out here. Put some clothes on and meet us in the field.”
If your eyes got any wider, they would be rolling around on the porch. “Uh No, Toji. My time in the sun is over. I just want a bubble bath and to lay around inside with Salem and Boa. Maybe even pick back up crocheting. Plus the sky looks like it wants to open up and flood everything in sight!”
“Ten minutes,” He held his palm to you, his thick fingers urging you to stand. You didn’t want to, but the menacing look in his eyes showed that that there were no jokes behind his statements. “That’s the lowest I’m goin’ so you better get up before it jumps to twenty.”
“But I’ve been out here all day!” You whine, your hand falling on top of his. He tugged you up with ease and held you upright while you continued protested.
“You’ve been out here for not even five minutes, ⧼★⧽. Stop bein’ dramatic,” Toji deadpanned, officially leaving you by yourself on warm wood.
“Oh whatever—!” Before you could counter, he was already states away from you and towards the field. Even his jog was attractive—heavy muscles flexing under his shadow shaded clothes. He turned to find you still standing and chuckled. Cupping his hands around his lips he yelled, “Bring your ass before I get Onyankopon to sic you!”
You grinned, wiping the pending sweat puddling at your hairline. Ten more minutes.
It wasn’t ten minutes. Let’s try an hour and twenty minutes.
With the sun shining, still etching itself deep into your skin like a scar, the last thing you wanted to be doing was getting acquainted with a horse who couldn’t care less about your existence. Toji sits behind you, his weighted pelvis rocking against yours with the slow and steady stride of his horse—the metal plate of his sizzling belt buckle knocking against the top of your clothed ass crack. An earthly, tobacco scent mixed with a hint of sweetness from your vanilla perfume, that hadn’t melted off, trailing behind closely like a cape.
Wearing black in the sun’s presence was a disaster just itching to happen, so questioning Toji’s motives for wearing not only a long sleeved black tee, but jeans to match wasn’t frowned upon. His top hugged tightly against his sweat glazed tanned skin, threatening to rip with any sudden movement. Heavy strokes from his tattoos peeked just under the neckline of his shirt—almost giving the illusion that it was an extension of his top. If you were being honest, his poor choice of an outfit just brought extra heat, and it was being placed directly on your shoulders.
"Hol' on tight to the reins, Sweets. Take control. Meg’s not goin’ to take you seriously if ya’ scared of him.”
Barking orders around wasn’t anything new, these animals would walk all over him if authority wasn’t latched on to his voice—doing it for hours on end with cigarettes being chain-smoked in between is what’s fucking him up. Anytime he spoke, it felt like a microphone needed to be lodged down his throat to chase each whispered word. It’s only getting worse with each passing minute.
"There you go. Good joooob,” He praised, voice coming out winded, “You’re gettin' better at this, you ain't ridin’ while we sleepin'? Sure seems like it."
Rough hands were tight around your waist, giving you reassuring squeezes whenever you whimpered in doubt, which was every other second. Toji felt the fear latching onto your bones under your embrace—he could see the worry painted on your face from the moon, but the only thing to shake that said fear was to face it head on.
"M'sure..."
Stallions were naturally aggressive and not easy going with new people, especially Toji’s furry friend here. You’ve witnessed Megumi take that extra mile to be by himself—stationed in the corner glaring menacingly at the town below. And doing something he didn’t want to do sparked pure chaos.
You knew it was a pending problem with him when both Onyankopon and Toji had to stand close while Dr. Shiu performed his first of many monthly routine exams.
Megumi stomped his heavy hooves with anger at every gloved touch that graced his silky black fur, nipped at the doctor whenever he was in view, and whipped his tail when he was certain something was there to be strucked—almost like a child throwing a tantrum. You've seen plenty of horses come and go, all with different personalities that molded them differently from their counterparts—but none as special as Megumi.
With checkups becoming increasingly common, Megumi no longer acted an ass when it was time to be examined, but that day has been stamped into your brain like a tattoo. Being on the receiving end of his violence was not on your to-do list. Not not. Not ever.
"Toji-Bear?"
With your voice soft as a pillow, below a whisper and coiled tight in concern, you almost mirrored Toji’s hoarseness. He replied with a curious hum, pierced ear pressing against your warm cheek to better understand what you were saying. "He's not gonna hurt me, right?"
Toji confidently reassured you, replying in a hum, "He ain't gonna hurt you, Sweetheart. Pon and I trained him well since that day. Ain't that right?"
"Mhm," Onyankopon responded with a confident hum, "He's only aggressive with male horses and red balloons, Peach," A thin piece of hay dangled from his plump two toned lips. He stood leaning against the wooden fence— tone, tatted arms peaked from his white tea. His dark brown eyes stalked you like a hawk from afar. "If you’ ain’t either of those things then you'll be juuus' fine."
"’Kay... if you say so," Unsureness intertwined tightly around your words—in result, your grip on the reins were much tighter.
Riding around in circles with heavy supervision was a traditional practice that happened roughly twice a week. Sometimes it was your personal horses from the stable, others it was mounts who needed temporary assistance while they healed from minor surgeries. From what Onyokapon told you, doing this was beneficial and helped you get comfortable enough to ride on your own— climbing your way up to possibly helping out in the field if needed. You, on the other hand, hated it. Horses were their thing, not yours.
Whenever Toji received the horse as a gift, the handler informed him about his aggression towards all other animals and humans. Although he didn't specify on why, Toji assumed it had something to do with his previous owners mistreating him.
"Let's just say Megumi had a hard upbringing..." The handler expressed, eyebrows folded across his forehead. He was cautious with his brushing, afraid of any sudden movements from the horse.
Heavy hands weighed at Onyokopon's hips, chocolate dipped eyes squinting from the sun, "You don't say. ‘Boy can barely stop shakin’, Toj’,"
Toji gave a nod, eyeing the handler. “I see. Shakin’ like a rookie stripper.”
Toji hesitated touching Megumi, his covered fiery gaze turning Toji’s movements into stone. Scarred whip marks littered his backside and sides. The supposed silky black mane was a complete overgrown mess covering his curious eyes. Each sudden movement caused the colt to jerk in fear—sometimes going as far as lunging towards you as an act to protect himself. Megumi’s ribs were prominent from a skyscraper with mountains of flies dancing on his sunken stomach. He limped when he walked, overgrown hooves making it impossible for comfort.
“—Y’all don’t take care of him? Seems like y’all contributin’ to the rough upbringin’ if you ask me.” Onyankopon couldn’t help the anger in his voice. Still, he kept his voice level down to keep the horse at bay.
“Well, we have. He’s just… well— aggressive.” As if on que, the horse jumped forward causing the handler to quite literally jump into Onyakopon’s arms for protection.
For a good three years Onyankopon, Toji, and Dr. Shiu were the only people the horse became accustomed to. Building trust and loyalty took time and effort, but it was worth it in the long run. Your lovers took time to learn their pet, informing themselves about what Megumi adorned and highly disliked.
It came as little surprise that he disliked almost everything.
Except brushes.
Megumi became accustomed to his daily brushes—looked forward to them, actually. Onyankopon thinks it's a sensory thing, the bristles bringing a sense of peace to melt throughout his body.
"Give it 'bout three more months and Megumi will be out there with all the mares. Maybe get some kids out of ‘em. Hopefully make some profit."
"Yeah," Ony agreed, feeding a fistful of hay to Megumi, "Maybe even introduce him to Peach, see how he responds to her."
You rejected immediately, bringing up the situation with Shiu and how uncomfortable it made you feel. They understood, Onyokopon even considered postponing the meeting to a couple months later, but of course that didn’t happen. You were face to face with him ten minutes later. You could’ve sworn Megumi rolled his eyes when Toji was introducing him to you.
“He looks so angry, Ony-baby.” looking up through your lashes usually got you out of situations you didn’t want to be in. You swayed your hips more, even sticking your lip out a little far to catch his attention. He didn’t crack—not even a twitch in his tired eyes. His scold deepened as he rolled his eyes.
“Girl, please. ‘M not Toji. That shit didn’t work on me. Hop on.”You groaned dramatically as you were helped onto the animal.
All was well. The key word was. Not even two minutes and Megumi was already rising on his hind legs in an attempt to get you to unattached.
You thought it was your time, that he was going to somehow do a backflip and crush you to death under his weight. You yelped loudly, only adding fuel to the growing flames. Ony was quick on his feet, speaking slowly and softly to the horse as Toji pried you from his back.
The incident was brought up to Shiu and he said that you were still a stranger to him—He wasn’t familiar enough with you therefore he didn’t trust you. From that day forth, anytime Megumi was brought out, you were there.
His feedings? You were stuffing handfuls of hay in his puffy cheeks. You lead him with Toji but refuse to hold the reins and kept your distance.
What really got Megumi to gradually grow interested in you was your brushes. Really, it was your nails raking up and down his fur. You did it absentmindedly when feeding him—your finger tickled the spot just between his eyes. Up and down, up and down.
You didn’t notice that he was enjoying it until Toji pointed out that he leaned his head towards you.
“R-really? Thought he was jus’ rushing me.” You turned to the horse as he eyed the hay in your palm, “You like my nails, Megumi?” As if he could respond.
You shifted your body slightly, your legs becoming static from the extended horse ride. The clouds containing the storm were now minutes away, the smell of rain overpowering the scattered horse poop.
"I think she's 'bout ready to ride by herself, Toj’. Whatchu’ think?"
Toji hums, his fingers drumming at your hips, "You can think about it all you want, it's her that has the final say.”
"I can handle it," you answered, "I'm pretty confident... I think."
“You think?”
“Maybe a few more weeks, Peach.”
The wind picked up, the trees in the distance almost uprooting from the soil. Thunder cracked in the distance causing some of the horses to find shelter.
"Ooh, it’s startin' t'get dark Toj". Let's wrap this shit up. Fuckin’ mosquitoes 'bout to suck me dry!" Smacks to his dark skin followed after his complaints, his whacks echoing throughout the open field. Just as Toji was about to mumble something slick, a lightning bolt flickered through the clouded sky too close for comfort, followed by a thunderclap that made Megumi jump from beneath you. The nightmare of the last encounter with Megumi raising on his hind legs flashed through your mind like a premonition. This was going to take longer than expected.
𐔌 5.9K 𐦯 • 𝘕𝘖 𝘔𝘐𝘕𝘖𝘙𝘚.ᐟ | 𝑷𝒍𝒖𝒈.ᐟ𝑶𝒏𝒚, CollegeAU, mention of drugs (weed), or*l (m. receiving), face-f*cking (slightly rough, lots of gagging, very messy—does this count as oral fixation?), f*ngering, implied p -> v s*x, dirty talk, slight degradation, corruption of mc, inexperienced mc, mc goes in sub-space (unknowingly), mc gets d*ck-drunk, minor BDSM dynamics, subtle size k*nk, gentle/caring Ony, nonchalant Ony, teasing Ony, slow-build interest, nicknames (Mama & Princess), explicit language, use of the n-word (all characters & Author are Black)
PART 1
decided to be nice & give y'all a mini drabble of them. enjoy .ᐟ <3
ᝰ♡.ᐟ IT ISN'T COMPLETELY DARK OUT YET AS THE GOLDEN ORANGE hue of the setting sun splashes across the entire campus.
Even with the significant lack of people strolling the brick-laid pathways, Onyankopon doesn't neglect to keep an eye out for campus officers. He doesn't need anything on his record, not when the semester's just begun.
He figured he would be back in his car by now, speeding off to his apartment. Not still standing here.
This was supposed to be quick.
“A'ight man, how much I owe you again?” Standing about two feet in front of him, his customer glances up, tearing his vision away from the crumpled bills in his hands.
Onyankopon almost kisses his teeth.
"Seventy-five."
He swears he said that number about five times since this interaction began.
"A'ight, got you…"
Crumpled paper flicks noisily as the client thumbs through the stack of random bills; fives, tens, and a whole lot of ones.
There's a faint, sour scent emanating off of the guy whenever he sways just a bit too much in his spot; dried sweat. It only adds to Onyankopon's growing irritation.
"Y-yo … I, uh … only got about forty-three cash, bro."
The feeble way in which he looks at him almost makes Onyankopon irate.
'This nigga,' he thinks.
A heavy sigh pushes past his lips, an urge he could no longer resist. "Just send the rest through Zelle or Cash App."
"Bet," the man says as he shoves the hand full of money his way.
Onyankopon gingerly takes the damp cash and pockets it quickly. With free hands, his customer frantically pulls out his phone to continue the transaction.
"Uh—h-how much?"
Onyankopon stares at him square in the face. "Whatever's left after forty-three dollars."
“Chill,” his client says with a shaky chuckle.
He's trying, he really is. Annoying clients come with the territory, especially when it comes down to dealing with a bunch of smokers.
Usually, he'd have more patience for this kind of thing. But, today he's pressed for time. Especially since he's got royalty blowing up his line, demanding his presence. 'Her impatient ass,' he thinks as his phone buzzes in his pocket, getting it's second message within the last hour.
Since their first time hooking up, Onyankopon won't deny the fact that Ámerei has been his main fix—on campus, at least.
After finals, they exchanged numbers, but it was radio silence between them during summer break. Understandably. She had her own life outside of school, and he had his own shit to take care of back home.
There were no ill sentiments between the two, just a mutual understanding of where this situation of theirs starts and ends: at school.
So, he wasn't surprised when she hit him up within the first month of this fall semester. He had stopped by at her new dorm—a single—and gave her what she timidly asked for.
And he gave it to her good. Maybe seeing her brought it out of him or maybe it was just the perfect chance to release some built up pressure.
Admittedly, when it comes to messing around with Ámerei, Onyankopon can appreciate the ease that comes with her. There weren't sneaking around anyone's back to do this. Additionally, the clarity she possesses regarding this entire thing is a breath of fresh air. She isn't blowing up his phone, demanding him to do things that fall within the realm of being a "significant other."
Honestly, she doesn't even ask him much about himself. Neither does he.
Compared to some of the other girls he's been with, she's definitely someone he doesn't have to stress out over.
However, even with the general ease of their situation-ship, it seems that he's created a little bit of a monster.
Are you busy?
Onyankopon..
I want to see you
He was in the car, on the way to this deal when the first message was read aloud to him.
She has a habit of hitting him up while he's in the middle of doing something or just so happens to be on his way out of the door. And despite being a recurring interruption to his plans, it always brings him a sense of fondness.
Despite the growing frequency of their meetups, Onyankopon believes that Ámerei isn't someone he'll grow tired of. He can't explain it, but he knows that she's just nice to be around. Cool.
His brain was silent while he tried to decide if he wanted to do this today.
He did.
It wasn't until he reached a red light, that he picked up his phone, allowing himself a weak smirk as he typed a response.
Uu wanna see my dicc
Her reply was instant:
That's not the same thing?
A small scoff left him as the traffic light ahead changed. Against his better judgment, he elected to split his attention in two places: the road and his phone.
Making plays rn
Uu cld wait ?
I'm with the girls at the apartment
Let me know when you get back
He loved the message, quickly dropping his phone in his lap.
Although, unlike other times, his brain didn't immediately drop the conversation. Rather, he kind of toiled over it for a minute or two, sparing an unnecessary amount of time on a particular idea: being considerate.
But, was it consideration? Or was that just his usual standard about punctuality?
Come another red light, Onyankopon chose to put those thoughts to rest. He never liked being in his head about someone for too long. When it comes to matters regarding people, it's either you do or you don’t.
So, he did.
Picking up his phone, his thumb slid across his keyboard in a quick pattern. He didn't even have to glance at the screen to send the short message.
Gimme a hr
She loved the message.
That conversation was definitely had over an hour ago and he's still not back home, at no fault of his own.
"I think the money sent."
Hands buried in the pockets of his sweats, Onyankopon gives the man a brief "Mhm," as he stares him down. He waits patiently for his phone to buzz with the notification of the money entering his account.
And when it does—because he needs to make sure that he's not being cheated put of his product, no matter how many times this guy has bought from him—only then does he give him what they came here for: the weed.
"Thank you so much, bro," he rushes out.
Onyankopon doesn't spare a word, let alone a glance, as he heads back to his car thinking:
'Finally.'
Hopping back in the driver's seat, he pulls the car door shut after him. He wastes no time in pulling out his phone.
So ... it's been an hour.
K...
His fingers move quick.
My fault ik
Nigga was moving slow
Im comin dnt trip
He scoffs at his last message. When has he ever explained himself this much?
The trip back to his apartment is faster than it took for him to go out and meet his customer.
Comin up rn be at the door
It takes all of six minutes for him to enter the building to reach his floor. Leaving the elevators behind, he turns down the long hallway, already seeing the short and slim figure waiting at his door.
Phone in hand, too concerned with whatever it is on her screen to watch her surroundings, she doesn't even notice him coming.
Ámerei stands with majority of her weight on one leg, her hip poking out to accentuate her subtle curves. There's a disruption on her face; a wrinkle of her brows.
She looks upset.
She looks good.
"Y'know, I could'a been anybody walking up on you."
Her head snaps up. The sable strands of her silk press falls away from her face to showcase the moment of recognition that flashes across it, just before it's overtaken by irritation. She opens her mouth.
"Before you even start, it wasn't me." He's already fishing for his apartment keys.
"What does that mean?" She raises a perfectly trimmed brow, eyeing him with skepticism.
“The nigga was doing too much," he says, glancing back at her over his shoulder. "I'm here though, so we not tripping'.”
He pushes the door open, allowing her first, as always. Ámerei's lips are sealed shut, shooting him a glare as she slips past him.
“Mhm.”
Just as she turns her head forward, Onyankopon leaving her line of sight, a heavy hand pops her on the left side of her ass.
"What the fuck," she yelps, whipping around to face him. The sharp sting blooms into a hallow ache beneath her skin as she rubs the spot.
He tries to stifle the growing smirk on his face as he kicks the door shut behind him. “Got too much attitude."
“You were late, mind you,” she sneers, pointing a square acrylic nail into the bed of his chest.
"Eager, ain't you?"
She notices the strong arms circling her waist, yet neglects to acknowledge them.
Arms crossed, she's the epitome of a pretty girl with an attitude. Hair done, nails perfect, and a fresh set of lashes decorating her pretty brown eyes.
And, irritated or not, her gaze is a lot more seductive. He knows that if he makes mention of her saditty demeanor, he'll only rile her up more.
“I can go."
His eyes narrow by a fraction as he stares down at her. “But—" his hands slip from her waist to the perch of her ass. “You gon' stay.”
Her mouth opens to spit back a retort.
"And lose that attitude, 'cause you still getting what you want."
Before she can even think of a response to that one, Onyankopon drops his lips on hers; that conversation is done. In his grasp, she practically melts. The familiarity of his lips is too comforting for her to resist.
He has to admit, Ámerei has gotten better at kissing. A lot better. His favorite thing about that is her newfound affinity for sucking.
In fact, his tongue is almost always the first thing she goes for.
One last peck on the lips precedes a swipe over his bottom lip, coaxing him into a deeper kiss. Before he can even realize it, she's pushing her tongue into his mouth in search of his.
Her hands, soft and reaching, find the sides of his face to keep his head tilted so that she may get more access. He taught her that one.
To his own demise (benefit), every time she's got her lips wrapped around his tongue, it puts a fire in him that wakes him up below the belt. They're moving before he can even comprehend this, too busy feeling on her ass.
"—damn."
His body drops to the couch, slightly bouncing against the cushions. He barely manages to look up at her when she's climbing into his lap. Her eyes burn with lust.
"You moving like you … controlling shit." He's breathless watching her, hands coming to rest on her hips as she takes her seat.
Speaking of hands, hers press to his chest as she leans in for another kiss. His breath is stolen away for the second time in just two minutes.
"Mh … you smelled good," she moans against his mouth.
"I—"
She leaps at the chance to get to his tongue. And—unsurprisingly—she's sucking at him again, like he's a ripe berry, full of juice and ready to burst in her mouth.
His spit is sweet.
"'Preciate—" The half of his sentence that comes out is garbled by their kiss.
She only pulls away to whisper in his ear. "Taste good, Ony."
When she pulls back, and he can finally look her in the eyes, he's almost—scared?
This is not the shy virgin he met only a handful of months ago.
"Yeah?" He shifts upwards a bit, thinking of a way to regain control over this situation.
"Mhm," she nods. The hum is practically a moan, heavy and dragging.
Onyankopon takes this moment to look over her body.
It's just dipping back into the cooler seasons, on the cusp of fall. Yet, enough of her skin is exposed by an off-the-shoulder cropped crew-neck that it can make anyone think otherwise. And not to mention, the ridiculously thin gray leggings that don't hide much.
"I got something that taste better."
Her vixen-like demeanor flickers as her thoughts flash across her face. "What's that?" she asks.
"Ms. 4.0 GPA, c'mon now." A grin spreads across his face.
She rolls her eyes, but the heat has been snuffed out. "And if I'm not good at it?"
He scoffs. "You wasn't good at kissing, neither."
She scowls.
"You getting better every time." Amusement is written all over his face. It's almost irritating. "This gon' be the same thing, I promise you."
She averts her eyes as she starts thinking; this isn't the first time he's alluded to wanting head. It's not like she doesn't want to give it. It's more of a question of, can she?
Probably.
But, can she do it as well as the other girls he's been with?
Definitely not.
That's always a looming fear of hers.
She can hardly bear the thought of performing poorly, and being dubbed the one who "couldn't give good head" or who "had weak pussy;" a story to tell his friends in the group chat.
For the most part, that fear is quelled, just on account of him not really being a piece of shit.
An asshole at times, sure. But, not a douche-bag. And, save for their first time ever doing something together, Onyankopon has never directly spoke about other women he's been with. He doesn't even speak about people he knows.
She can respect the fact that he's not a pillow-talker. But she can only hope that he's not just trying to put on an act.
She tries not to worry too much about it. Outside of these links, their lives are completely detached. They don't even run in the same circles.
"Why you scared? I ain't been a good teacher?"
"Shut up," she laughs, giving him a gentle push to the chest.
For a moment, she's quiet as she thinks to herself, chewing on her bottom lip as she does so.
"We can try," she nods. "But, don't expect me to be amazing," she says as she starts sinking to the ground between his thighs.
"Woah, wait—" he catches her by the waist, stopping her just before her knees hit the floor.
"Wha—d-don't I have to get on my knees?"
"Do you wanna be on your knees?"
She blinks, stunted by the question. "I … don't I have to?"
His brows lift by a fraction. "You don't have to do nothing. I asked if you wanna be. It's other positions."
"Um…" She glances at the hardwood floor beneath them, weighing her options. "Y-yeah. Yes, I do."
He shrugs, gently removing his hands from her to sit back. "A'ight then."
Carefully, she makes contact with the ground, her kneecaps pressing into the floor. Lengthy, strong legs cage her in, but it doesn't feel like a trap.
Before she has to ask, he's pushing his pants down some. But, of course, he's not going to do everything for her.
Not even when she stares up at him, expecting him to pull down his boxers, too, and whip it out for her. She looks perfect down there.
"What you staring for?"
She glances at his lap, eye-level with his print as it strains against the breathable fabric, pressed to the inner wall of his right thigh. She looks back up at him, like she expects something new. Like she doesn't know what comes next.
"Take it out for me, Ámerei."
The firm tone of his voice makes her stomach flutter.
Without a word, both her hands snake up the stalks of his calves, past his knees, and over his thighs. Her fingers are soft, the pads of them tickling his skin as she nears the object of her desire.
With a quick swipe of his tongue over his bottom lip, Onyankopon pushes his hips forward as she finally hooks onto the waistband of his underwear.
Inwardly, Ámerei prays that he doesn't notice the excited tremor of her hands as she pulls the fabric back to reach inside.
The skin there is warm, hot blood racing just beneath its surface to fatten up his dick. She traces one finger down to the middle of his shaft, where she weakly curls her hand around him. She barely squeezes as she picks him up, revealing just a little more past the fat tip.
She isn't surprised by the heaviness, but it does make her rethink her ability to swallow him down.
"Why you so focused already?"
His chuckle pulls her gaze upwards, seeing the entertained look on his face. She crumbles into awkward laughter. "I wanna make sure I'm doing it right."
"Ain't no wrong way to pull my dick out." He sniffs, shifting his hips in a way that pushes his dick further in her face. Her eyes slightly cross trying to keep him in her line of sight. "You doing good, Ami. Quit all that thinking, don't freeze up on me now."
His words, spoken to her low and slow, make her heart beat quicken. She nods loosely, staring up at him with eyes that don't conceal the dazed look in them.
Every time they're together, he notices that after a certain point, it's like a switch flips off in her head. It gets more noticeable every time.
Encouraged by him, she pulls him out of his boxers entirely. The familiar sight never fails to make her drool.
So thick in her hand, she runs her thumb over the web of veins pumping beneath his skin—more visible as it's pulled taut by his arousal. He isn't leaking yet, like his body is waiting on her touch. She can feel his pulse faintly. Tiffany blue acrylic nails compliment his deep brown skin as it fades from a blushing brown to a solid, deep umber.
Every moment she gets to witness him up close, Ámerei can't help but to think that he's just so … pretty.
She's always wanted to kiss it. To feel him throb against her lips.
Her thoughts are interrupted when there's a gentle squeeze of her jaw.
"Missed this shit, didn't you?"
She nods.
"Mhm," he hums, noting how she gazes at him with a renewed sense of hunger. "Go on, eat the dick up." He pulls his hand away.
Without a second thought, she leans forward and plants a gentle smooch on the fat head. He's hot against her skin. Even though she had imagined this happening, surprise takes her when he twitches against her. In her hand, he stiffens further.
A pleased hum leaves her. Tepid, she pushes her tongue past her lips to finally get a taste. His skin is silk soft on her taste buds. He has a mild taste, barely sweet.
That makes it too easy to have more of him in her mouth; she goes for another lick, this one bolder in action as she tastes more of the skin covering his crown. It was all she needed to gain the confidence to take him into her mouth, closing her lips around the swollen head.
"A natural, already," he exhales.
She peers up at him through those perfect, wispy lashes. Her mouth sinks slightly lower. The slippery muscle of her tongue curls around the tip before she traps him between the bed of it and the roof of her mouth to suck. Her usually round, soft cheeks hallow out.
"Good job, mama."
Her eyes flutter shut as her mouth sinks lower around him, a quiet hum of contentment coming from the back of her throat.
The ghost of a smirk haunts his lips. "You like that?"
Peeling her eyes open, Onyankopon immediately notices how they look glossed over. Her full lips are stretched around his thickness, unable to stop the drool escaping past their corners. With a stuffed mouth, she only nods.
"Talk to me."
For a moment, he thought she would have attempted to speak around him. The thought makes him twitch in her mouth.
Except, Ámerei pulls off of him, the softness of her hand replacing the wet heat of her mouth as she jerks him off.
"I liked it," she breathes out. Her hand moves at a slightly rushed pace, gliding over the tight skin. He keeps twitching. It makes her giddy, taking this as a good sign.
Yet, her elation is cut short when she sees a wrinkle forming between his brows. Dread takes seed in her chest.
"So, why you not swallowing my shit?"
Oh.
The corners of her lips twitch as she tries to keep herself from smiling. Her lips part. "Sorr—"
"I'm not tryma hear nothing when my dick should be in your throat." A heavy hand finds its way into her hair, firmly grasping it near the base of her skull. "Need to be gagging on my shit."
Her pussy clenches. She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, pushing her face closer to him. She tongue-kisses his tip, humming when it jumps in her mouth.
"Mhm … show me how much you want this."
She rests her hands on his thighs, descending onto him again. Her eyes squeeze shut as she pushes herself to go lower than previous. As she lowers, it gets harder to breathe, her mouth stretching wider and wider.
"Hurgh—"
She pushes through the gag that rips through her. Her head grows fuzzy at the feeling of the slow suffocation.
Onyankopon groans, "Fuck … open up." His hand grips her hair tighter. "Relax your throat."
He hits the back of her tongue. The muscles of her neck constrict.
"Aarck—"
Her shoulders hike up, another sharp gag moving through her.
"Easy, easy."
She pulls off, a beaded string of her own spit leading from the depths of her mouth to his dripping tip. Her stomach is turning.
"You good," he tells her, petting her head.
She nods, swallowing a loose glob of spit to calm her throat.
"C'mon, you good."
She considers the truth of his words before her own thoughts, taking him back in her mouth.
"Mmph," he moans, pressing his lips together to catch the sound.
His head rolls back, but before it lands against the couch cushion, it bounces back up. Her lips kiss the base of him, his hips jumping in shock.
"Huarc—"
"Shit, my fault, my fault."
His breathing is rushed and unsteady as he exhales through his nose, staring down at the mess she's making between his legs.
Spit pours almost freely down his dick, pooling into a thick, frothy puddle of her saliva and his precum in his lap.
"God … damn," he groans, tilting his head some, wishing he could take a picture of this moment to keep forever.
Her lips pucker around him, like they're desperately trying to keep anymore spit from inevitably leaking out. Like they're tired of being stretched open by his dick.
She looks so pretty like this.
"How you take it better this way?"
She sniffles weakly. As her mouth is still full of him, Ámerei gently rests her head against a thigh of his. Her lashes sweep against the hills of her cheekbones as her eyes flutter shut, a gentle sigh leaving through her nose.
"Hm?"
He reaches down to cup her chin, and as soon as their skin makes contact, those pretty brown eyes are open again. Just barely. They're glazed over, not present.
At that moment, something clicks within him. His brain runs with a prediction.
"Should fuck this like your pussy."
He watches her face for any twitch in her brows, some sign of objection. But, there's only a look of sedation. His hand slips from her jaw, he smooths his thumb over an eyebrow before pushing a rogue couple of strands of hair back.
She swallows around him again, closing her eyes.
"Aye, talk to me." Onyankopon lays two quick taps to her cheek, the action gaining her attention. "Ami. Make a sound or something."
A tiny whine comes from the back of her throat. He twitches in the chamber of his neck.
"Want me to move?"
She blinks slowly.
"A'ight," he whispers.
Gently, he takes her head in his hands and carefully pulls her off of him. Loose webs of spit and precum fall around his dick. He's a glistening mess as it falls against his inner thigh, heavy and sopping wet.
A couple of coughs and few hiccups leave her as she wipes at her face with the back of her hand. "W-what?"
"You enjoying this, I could see it in your face."
The corners of her lips lift without restraint.
"But, you gotta communicate with me. Don't go silent."
Just as fast, they drop into a frown, feeling that hint of dread again. "Okay," she nods.
"Even when your mouth is full like that, or you can't talk; tap me."
Her face scrunches up in mild confusion. "Tap?"
His hand slides over her shoulder, the tips of his fingers just at her back, and taps once. "Like that if you want me to pause. Twice if you good," he performing the second gesture. "And—" then taps her three times in succession, "—to tell me to stop."
She blinks at him, cementing the code in her head.
"How you feeling? Show me."
She lifts a hand to rest on his naked thigh and taps him twice.
"Good," he tells her. "Now c'mon."
She's too eager to get him back in her mouth, swallowing him up with blinding ease each time.
"Mhm, look at you… Like you starving."
She pushes her face against his thighs, smiling around his dick. And Onyankopon thinks it's the sweetest, sexiest thing ever. Holding the back of her head, the pads of his fingers rub into her skull.
"You want more?"
She nods as her tongue laves at the underside of him.
"S'what I thought," he mumbles before that hand of his moves to grip her jaw.
Pushing her head up just a bit, Onyankopon holds himself at the base to pull out, earning a deep gag from her. And he loves that sound.
He's dripping in her slobber. The head is where most of her spit collects, a web of it connected to her bottom lip.
Taking himself in hand, he rubs it like a wand and swabs it against her lips. The sloppy, uncoordinated push of his dick against her face makes her flinch here and there. But she doesn't pull away in the slightest when he smears their mess all over the lower half of her face.
His hand shifts to hook a thumb between her lips and push down.
"Open."
The hinge of her jaw slackens with ease.
"Stick that pretty tongue out."
She does exactly what he says, and within that second, the fat head of his dick is slapping against her taste buds.
"Mhm, look real good like this."
He can already imagine himself bursting on her tongue. He glances up from her mouth to see the stars in her glistening eyes.
"Should bust all over you right now," he rasps. "You want that?"
She nods eagerly, tongue sticking out of her mouth like a panting dog. The fruity hue of the muscle is too similar to the inside of her pussy.
"Suck it outta me, then. The fuck?"
He angles his hips to push back into her throat. The suction of her mouth is unmistakable, he knows she sucked him in. The feeling of that wet, slippery warmth traveling down his dick, swooping him up into a tight hold pulls a breathy moan out of him.
"Greedy ass … tryna suck me up, and I'm a-already giving it t'you—" He grasps the back of her head again as rolls his hips smooth and slow. "F … fuck," he groans out.
Her throat jumps around him, desperate to accommodate the moving length throughout it.
"Taking it real good, Princess."
Her eyes flutter, and he catches the way they slightly roll back before she blinks.
Too experienced, it doesn't take long for him to find a shallow but steady rhythm, picking up the pace. As his dick bullies its way in and out, past the walls of her tonsils, a faint clicking sound is made.
"You like this?"
His voice wavers, the sound shooting straight to her clit. Her hand that rests on his muscular thighs, rises and falls twice: one-two.
"I know … kn-know you do…"
His breathing grows heavier and heavier, balls tightening some as they tap at her chin with each thrust.
"Smartest girl I ever met … but you go fucking stupid when you got dick in your mouth."
A mewl vibrates in her throat. He looks down to see her eyes roll to the back of her head.
"You like me talking to you like that?"
One-two.
She's an image of corruption: one of her eyes is only half-open, both showcasing the whites of them as his dick pushes in-and-out past her lips. Spit oozes and froths up at the seams of her lips.
"L-look at you … blowing bubbles on my shit," he grunts. "You wanna play with your pussy?"
A moan, real and solid, gurgles from her throat. The air coming out of her mouth pushes out more balloons of spit along the rim of her mouth.
"Shit—go 'head."
Fireworks go off in her head at his given permission, like this moment is the kind of joy she's been waiting to experience for the last few years. Ámerei is quick to shove a hand down the front of her leggings, pushing past the hem of her panties to rub at her clit.
She feels like she's gone sky-high, completely relinquishing all control to him as he fucks her mouth good and thoroughly.
"S-said you could touch yourself … don't hold out on me."
His words kick something alive in her head. She begins to move herself, bobbing her head up and down. As she does so, she's only able to go halfway down at this faster speed.
Onyankopon's hips stutter. "Aye—watch the teeth. Watch the teeth, Ami."
She squeezes her eyes shut, making a conscious effort to tuck her lips over them. The change grants him unfettered access to her mouth, carving a way for itself in her throat.
"Oh … fuuck, keep … keep swallowing my shit, Mama."
Her fingers work in fast, tight circles over her clit. This is a wet dream for her.
"Make me nut," he pants, a bead of sweat rolling down his forehead.
At that, she shoves two fingers in herself, the intrusion creating a soft squidge between her thighs. At every swallow of his dick, she's pushing her fingers in. The penetration from both ends gets her sopping wet, the seat of her panties soaked through.
"Make me nut on that tongue."
At that particular command, she swallows him an inch deeper, a strong gag ripping through her.
"Mhm, just like that," he sneers as he moves his hips to meet her half-way.
Her eyes squeeze shut, wringing tears from them as she falls in-line with his thrusts. She keeps her head still, allowing him to throat fuck her, even as she chokes on him.
Hand buried in her hair, Onyankopon lets his head fall back against the couch, losing it in her mouth.
"Mh—fuck," he whimpers, chest pumping as he gulps down air. "I-I'm 'bout to cum."
She loves it when he says those words.
She pulls off of him messily, replacing her mouth with a loose fist. She moves quickly over his dick to uphold the pace. His hips buck, stomach sucking in with every pull.
"Want it," she utters breathlessly as spit drips from her face, tongue half sticking out to catch his cum just in case. "Want it—want it on my tongue, Ony."
He musters enough strength to pull his head back up, eyelids heavy as he gazes down at her: tears crystallize along her lash-line, looking like gems against her slender eyes.
His stomach swoops, his balls tightening.
"You …fuck—you gon' swallow it all?" he slurs.
"Mhm," she says, desperation all over her face as she nods. "A-all of it."
His other hand grips at the couch cushion beneath him as he holds back on cumming all over her face.
"Put my dick back in your mouth."
She chases after him with her mouth open, head bobbing awkwardly before finally catching him, without the help of her hands. Her cheeks cave in, pushing further down to get him to the back of her throat. She flexes around him, coaxing his impending orgasm out of him.
The simple action has his mind submitting to the desires of his body. His hips move thoughtlessly, unrestrained and sharp as they pump shallowly into her mouth.
"Fuc— … s-swallow that shit—"
"Hic—"
He busts in her mouth, the alkaline taste of his thick, viscous cum painting her tongue and throat. It's hard to swallow all of it down in one go.
"Oh … fuck," he shudders, chest rising and falling rather quickly as he swallows down whatever air is available. The exposed parts of his skin are dewy with sweat. Before his body is able to even fully relax, it tenses up with overstimulation.
She's still sucking.
"Aye—"
Grasping her head on both sides, he pulls her off. There's a bit of resistance, but when he finally gets her off of him, he sees in her eyes that she's completely gone.
"Tryna suck my soul out," he weakly jokes, though she doesn't laugh back. She only gives him a dreamy smile.
He grasps the underside of her jaw. "Lemme see."
Without a word, Ámerei sticks her tongue out to show him how she managed to swallow it all. He looks at her, knowing that she's desperately waiting for a form of praise for her work.
"Good job."
Her smile only grows.
"Come up," he says, already pulling her back up on the couch.
Scooting further back from him, she spreads her thighs to show him the darkened patch of gray fabric at the seat of her leggings.
His legs feel like Jell-O. Yet, despite this, he pushes through it to stand on his feet before her.
"That's how you feeling?"
She bites her bottom lip before turning away from him. Burying her chest into the couch cushions, Ámerei pushes her ass high in the air to present.
Looking back at him, the spit quickly drying on the lower-half of her face, she eagerly pushes her leggings and panties down her ass in one fell-swoop. Her back bows she reaches back to pull her cheeks apart, her wetness winking back at him. Creamy and dripping.
He kisses his teeth as another wave of arousal shoots through him, fatigue be damned. "Quit playing with me."
She mewls, eyes falling closed. "Want it in here, too," she mumbles thoughtlessly.
Blowing out a breath, Onyankopon takes his hardening dick in hand, starting with a few slow pumps.
"Yeah, dick really got you acting dumb now."
She shakes her ass side-to-side, taunting him.
"I'ma give it to you … just don't be running this time."
⤷ ❝ {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 😩
theartofmadeline
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