#ALONG WITH MODDED LIGHTING | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

2neaky · 1 month ago

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🎤 Thank U 4 The Dono! 💿 P.2

12k words! 𝑹𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒓𝑶𝒏𝒚! ♡ 𝑪𝒂𝒎𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍𝑶𝑪! | 𝑴𝑫𝑵𝑰 -> 𝑾𝑨𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮𝑺: size k*nk, or*al (m recieving), p in v s*x (use of a condom), tricking/“paying for p*ssy,” power-imbalance (financial), dr*g use (w*ed), heavy drinking, drunk s*x, morally grey ethics concerning modern-day s*x work and “buying” one’s consent, basically pr*stitution, objectification, egotistical Onyankopon, body mods (n*pple piercings), specific descriptions of body types, use of n-word (characters & writer are Black), roughly edited

Part 1

Finally, the last part! Warning, this fic isn’t the most ethically sound and I, as the writer, can recognize that. I don’t necessarily condone all concepts portrayed in this fic, but it’s just for the plot. Sometimes, I like morally grey shit. If you unable to separate this fictional story from real life, I advise against reading this. Enjoy & reblog! <3

“Right this way! Please follow the signs!”

Standing in a dimly lit corridor, the attendant is dressed in a prim suit as they shout directions to the attendees.

Echoes of sound check bounce off of the walls of the large stadium. At times, there are minutes of silence before they’re interjected by brief clips of music or even someone speaking into the mic.

This place is massive, built to house thousands of screaming fans at a time.

All of it piques Bliss’s interest as she’s guided along by security. Some part of her wishes she could stay and watch the onstage preparation up close.

However, she forgets about all of that as she travels up a steep flight of stairs, away from the stadium’s general seating.

Tiny lights, embedded along the sides of each step, light the way through the dark staircase. Kitten heels click softly as she slowly climbs, in line behind another guest. She neglects to hold the railing, preferring instead to latch onto her phone.

Her other hand grips the wooden baton handles of her newest purchase: a Goyard Saïgon mini bag.

Truthfully, it was an impulsive purchase made with just a fraction of the money she received from her Halloween Stream—and, speaking of, her bank account has never been healthier.

That stream has upped the quality of her life, undoubtedly. Not that she wasn’t living comfortably before, but her world has been opened to new experiences.

For instance, premium seating at a concert of her favorite artist. She’s in a space where she can afford this experience probably three times over. Yet, she didn’t even have to spend a dime to get it.

She can hardly contain a tiny grin with the flash of a memory—a conversation between her and Onyankopon over messages. Just a casual discussion, going in-depth about this entire arrangement.

Anyway, as the little quirk disappears from her face, a burst of light washes over her. She’s finally reached the top of that long staircase. Just a few feet away is the enclosed balcony, cased off behind glass so clean that she’s sure she would’ve walked right into it.

A “Luxury Box” is what they called it—an exclusive lounge, secluded to a balcony room above the stage. There’s a different attendant at its door, greeting each guest as they enter.

“Good evening, enjoy the show,” the young woman greets with a pleasant smile and gentle nod.

Bliss can’t help but to show teeth, the apples of her cheeks even aching. “Hi, thank you.”

As she spills into the room with the other guests, her eyes are everywhere. The Luxury Box is spacious, considering that there are about thirty people here.

Her first observation is that this place is comfortable. Cushioned chairs positioned before a large glass—it’s the perfect seating arrangement with an excellent view of the stage from its left.

The floor below the seats is glass, too. The sight gives way to a sea of empty chairs, hundreds of feet below. Soon, they’ll be filled with excited fans.

To the right of the viewing area is the bar, decked out in expensive, unopened bottles. There’s already a bartender behind the counter, wiping down the dark marble.

And by the looks of it, they’re fully stocked: wine, champagne, beer, juice, water—anything a patron could desire.

That’ll be the first spot she hits up.

On the room’s opposite side is an array of food spread out amongst a long, cloth-covered table. From hors d'oeuvres to dessert, they have everything. Behind the table, caterers attend to the food, ensuring its presentation is on point.

She needs no more convincing. Whipping out her phone, Bliss is quick to record the sights surrounding her. She slowly pans the camera, trying to catch everything in the video.

She hadn’t known what to expect before coming, however, Bliss had to give herself props. She managed to dress perfectly for the occasion, blending seamlessly with the lounge’s modern chic decor.

Jean Paul Gaultier hugs her body tonight as a black maxi dress with small grey dots that outline the feminine shape. The dramatic curves and slopes of her body stretch it out in a way that elevates the dress.

No doubt, it’s a wonderful look. However, it’s also a rather sheer piece, as its material is comprised of a thin, but tiny netting. Several times throughout her journey here, she’s had to pull her bundles to the front, having them fall over her chest.

It’s her fault she hadn’t tried on the dress before packing it, she realizes. If she had, she would’ve known to buy some pasties beforehand.

Peering around the room one more time, Bliss seems to recognize a few faces—well known influencers, and even a couple of celebrities.

Be calm, she reminds herself. She’s blended in so far.

A nervous tick, she glances at the time on her phone. She exhales with the realization that it’s only about an hour and a half more before the show is scheduled to start.

She’s closer to seeing Onyankopon live. Closer to meeting him in person for the first time. The thought has her queasy and excited all at once. She presses a manicured hand to her stomach.

God, she wishes she knew someone here, just so that they may distract her from the “what-if’s” and “maybe’s” running through her mind.

But, really? Who needs friends when there’s a bar just a few feet away?

Especially when there’s a cute ass nigga behind it?

She just found her newest distraction to take the edge off of things.

•

The stadium’s lights have lowered to pitch-black, darkness, allowing the stage’s to shine. Shades of purple bleeding into white beam brightly.

The DJ, propped farther back on the large stage, plays tracks that only hype up the audience.

Below the balcony, through the glass flooring, Bliss watches fans flood the stadium. They almost perfectly resemble waves of the sea. Even their cheers can be heard from up here.

As it gets closer to that time, they grow louder. They almost compete with the music.

Nursing her second drink of the night (if she doesn’t count the shot she has in between this and her first), Bliss sits plum in her seat. There’s a pleasant buzz running throughout her, and obviously it’s the liquor.

Just a little bit tipsy, more and more things seem to catch her attention as her body and mind ease up. So many distractions around her, she almost didn’t realize that someone’s come onstage if it weren’t for the screams of the fans beneath them: the show’s opener—Connie Springer.

She makes a quiet gasp around her straw, eyes wide as she leans forward in her chair.

Bliss has a couple of his songs in her rap playlist. He’s not nearly played as much as Onyankopon is in her household. Still though, the support is there.

She actually found Connie through him. Seeing as they’re closely affiliated and under the same label, his music was recommended after Ony’s.

Even in a couple of Ony’s Instagram posts, she can spot the other man in the background. She must admit, the rapper keeps a couple of fine ass niggas around him—hence why she follows Connie, too.

She only hopes Ony doesn’t look too deeply into that.

But, coming back to reality, Bliss can see why Ony had picked the man to be his opener.

He’s getting the crowd hype, and they’re rapping the lyrics right along with him. By the time his set ends—an unforgettable forty minutes—the audience is even livelier than before.

It’s astounding, really. She didn’t think they could get any louder. And the energy is coming off of the crowd in waves. She can’t be the only one in the lounge affected by it, her skin covered in goosebumps.

“I appreciate y’all tonight!”

The crowd cheers after Connie. His image is blown up on the Jumbotrons, giving every onlooker a view of his gemmed smile.

“I know y’all loud for me, but I’ma need y’all to be even louder for my brother, Onyankopon!”

Deafening shrieks fill the stadium. And Bliss is sure that if she were on the ground, her eardrums would’ve been ruptured.

Even the other guests in the lounge cheer loudly. And she’s thankful, knowing that she won’t have to hide her excitement when the time comes.

As Connie leaves the stage, the crowd chants: “Ony! Ony! Ony!”

With the stage now empty, its lights dim and the music almost completely fades. For a moment, everything seems to still.

The fans grow quieter—even if it’s just by a fraction. But, it’s safe to say that everyone in the stadium is watching the stage closely with bated breath. Waiting for something—anything—to happen.

Then, music strikes with volume that reignites the crowd.

Almost everyone around her shows their enthusiasm, tempting her to do the same. So, Bliss cups a hand near her mouth, letting out a resounding “wooh” from her seat.

“ATL, you ready?”

The voice, deep and amplified by the mic, sends a chill through her. For about ten seconds, the music is completely drowned out by the fans’ screams.

Her eyes scour the stage, not finding a single soul on it. It’s still dark, too.

Then, there’s another sound: a low chuckle.

Her stomach drops. She never thought she’d be so attracted to the sound of someone’s laughter. She’s sure that there are at least a thousand other fans that are sharing the very same experience. She can’t be the only one.

“Nah, I’on think y’all heard me—“

Purple streaks of light shoot down onto the stage. Flames, rigged at the perimeters of the platform, burst out as the man of the hour runs out onto the stage.

Any music is drowned out by the fans.

The stage’s backdrop illuminates the entire platform as a spinning graphic of the letter “O,” wrapped in barbed wire, displays on the screen.

“Y’all niggas ready?”

She finally sees him as his image is blown up on the Jumbotrons. It’s not the clearest resolution, but she can tell just how fine he is.

Mic held to his lips, the lower half of his face is hidden. A baggy, black zip up covers his upper half. He’s even got his hoodie up, sadly, obscuring the rest of his face.

But, as she stares at his image, she notices the flashes of light catching on the cloth. Squinting just a little, she catches sight of the tiny crystals dotting the dark fabric.

As Onyankopon moves about, he glitters underneath the stage lights. Tiny, rain-bowed streaks of light are caught by the cameras, projecting his image.

But that isn’t the only thing on him that shines. Coming around his neck and resting on his chest, is a tangle of thick, heavy looking chains.

His microphone picks up every clank they make. They don’t even need light to shine, his diamonds still dance in the dark. It’s almost blinding.

Large, baggy black cargoes cover his strong legs. However, it’s only the base for the shiny, silver and purple, jeweled buckles strapped all down the length of the fabric.

“Y’all turnt up in here, tonight!”

There’s a slight breathlessness to his voice, and it makes her body clench. If she could bottle up the sound and keep it to herself, she would.

Or is that the liquor talking?

As Onyankopon pulls the purple mic away from his face, a camera picks up on him. The closeup of his face is blown up all over the Jumbotrons.

As the crowd cries out for him, he shows them a perfect smile. His bottom row of teeth covered in VVS diamond lined, opal grillz.

It’s almost too much, the sight threatening to turn Bliss into a puddle right in her seat.

He lifts the mic to his mouth again, just as laughter tumbles out past his lips. “Y’all right up there with Chicago! Think you could do better than ‘em tonight?”

Fans are going ballistic, jumping and cheering even louder. They begin to chant again, repeating his name over and over.

All of these people, screaming his name, are here to see him. She can’t fathom how he does it.

But watching him, seeing how his smile stretches wider and the apples of his cheeks swell, she sees that he’s in his element.

“Yeah … y’all niggas some real competition!”

More screams. She almost wishes she was amongst the crowd, free to go as crazy as the other fans.

“Do me a favor: keep this energy the whole night! Nothing less—only up from here!”

Those were his last words as the beat to one of his songs begins, and the stadium dissolves into madness. The heavy base punches through every body filling it.

Bliss can feel it in her chest. Even the luxury box’s glass has the faintest tremor to it.

Ony runs down the middle of the stage, where it stretches out into the crowd. Mic to mouth, he’s on it, rapping over the track with passion.

A nasty mug contorts his face as he performs, clearly feeling the lyrics. And the fans are rapping right along with him.

One in particular, a young, scrawny man with big glasses, is caught on camera. His body is pressed to the metal barrier, he’s leaning over, gazing up at the rapper as his mouth moves along to every word.

Stepping closer to the area, Ony points a gloved hand at the young fan, making sure everyone—even the cameras—are paying him close attention.

Bliss’s heart swells at the sight of the endearing moment.

Running back to the main stage’s middle, Ony jumps up and down with the song’s beat. The pyrotechnics go off once again as the song’s hook comes up.

The energy consuming this stadium is too powerful to ignore. Bliss loses herself to it. After the first two songs, she can’t even find it in herself to care how crazy she looks—losing herself to the energy of the performance.

Halfway through the show, Onyankopon loses his hoodie.

She remembers it so clearly, when he had unzipped it. The dark fabric parted and gave way to shiny, deep brown abs, littered with tattoos of all sizes.

Her fingers itched to run down the rigid surface of abs.

Free from the heavy material, his head is fully visible. His typical inky black waves are sheathed by an equally black, velvet durag. And she’s almost 100% sure that it’s real velvet—none of that suede shit.

What catches her eyes the most is his nickname, “Ony,” spelled with beaded gems in Old English font on the back of the fabric.

One of the cameras, currently projecting his image onto the Jumbotrons, shows the audience the glistening skin of his back as he walks back to the main stage. His tattoos only continue to bleed into the expanse of the dark skin. Strong muscles ripple beneath the smooth skin.

She pulls out her phone, recording yet another clip of the shirtless man as he performs on the stage below. Without a second thought, she posts it to her Instagram story.

He just looked too fucking good for her not to capture. Without a doubt, Onyankopon is putting on a show.

Bliss can die happy right now…

Except, she can’t.

Not when the starting melody of her favorite song, catches her ears. She gasps, freezing in her seat.

At the center of the stage, Ony’s pacing slows to a stop. He stares out at the jumping crowd, a smile slowly climbing onto his face. The crowd is in a frenzy.

“What y’all know ‘bout this one?”

They roar louder as he continues to search the stadium, not looking for anyone in particular. Not yet.

“Wasn’t even gon’ perform this one, I ain’t gon’ hold you,” he chuckles.

He begins to pace again, thinking with amusement of just how much shit he makes his DJ put up with—what with him prolonging this track just to speak to the fans.

Bringing the mic to his lips, Onyankopon finally looks up at the large luxury box to the left of the stage.

“But, I know you like it.”

A camera catches a closeup of him just as he shoots a quick wink. It’s all over the Jumbotrons, and the crowd goes wild.

As the song finally begins, Bliss’ body catches a chill. She has no choice but to get up for this one, it is her favorite song after all.

It’s definitely a turn up song, and she does just that. Rapping along, she earns the attention of others around her. So entranced by the music, she doesn’t even realize how they begin to hype her up. And she doesn’t miss a word.

Without a thought, Bliss kicks off her short heels. Holding onto the back of her chair, she bends over and throws her ass in a circle.

Hoots and hollers from a few of the women around her goad her on, she sticks her tongue out. One or two of them even give her a couple of taps.

There’s lights shining on her, and she’ll have to remember to ask them for the videos. The dress is doing absolutely nothing to constrict the way her body moves, despite how tight it is.

Standing up straight, she does a full body whine, mouthing her favorite part of the song. Without a doubt, this is a highlight of her concert experience.

Sadly, just as quickly as the song had started, it ends. But, Bliss is only smiling, laughing too hard with the other guests.

Now she can die happy.

•

Three hours of performing—it was a dream to witness. And to think, that after all of that, she’s going to meet the artist.

How this can possibly go, she’s can’t imagine. Well—realistically, it can go one of two ways.

He flew her out for tonight’s show, put her up in one of the best hotels in the city, and even assigned a personal driver to her for the time being that she was here—a big bodied, black truck, of course.

So, there’s only one thing he wants. Bliss knew that coming into this. And she agreed, didn’t she?

The attendants assigned to this luxury box had made the announcement minutes ago to follow the signage for a swift exit, seeing as the show’s over.

Of course, there were a few stragglers—her included. Head buried in her phone, she swipes through the videos she was able to get from the other guests of her “mini performance.”

She’ll definitely have to post these later.

With a ring-dressed middle finger, she’s trimming one of the videos, far too focused to notice the two men approaching her.

“Ms. Bliss?”

Blinking, her head shoots up as her inky black inches fall over her face. She pushes the strands out of the way.

“Yes?”

“Onyankopon’s ready for you.”

Her face blanks as she looks back and forth between the two. Her tongue fumbles in her mouth. So, she remains wordless as she nods.

Coming to her feet, she pulls down her dress and smooths out any wrinkles. Swiping up her mini Saïgon, she follows after the men as they take her to the performer.

•

“Another city finished,” Connie smirks, dapping him up.

Slumped in a chair of his own, Ony laughs. “Yeah, and I’m ‘bout tired as Hell.”

Connie plops down on the futon pushed against the wall of Ony’s dressing room—just a few feet across from the man himself.

“You definitely gonna crash after this,” he laughs, pulling out one of his phones from his pants pocket.

“Nah,” Ony shakes his head. Licking his bottom lip, he tries to conceal a smile as Connie glances at him. “Actually … I got shit to do after.”

Raising a brow, Connie looks at him fully this time. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

They both share a knowing look, which only makes this all the more funnier.

“How you meet her?”

Glancing away, Ony bats him off as he sucks his teeth. “Don’t worry ‘bout it.”

“Nah, it better not be ole’ girl—“

“Chill,” Ony quickly looks his way. “Told you I was done with that. This a new vibe. Trust.”

Connie looks him up and down, ultimately deciding to trust his friend. “Alright…”

“Yeah, and speaking of—you gotta get the fuck up outta here.”

Connie makes a face. The question “why” is on the tip of his tongue, ready to fall from his lips, when a knock sounds at the door.

“Shit,” Ony mumbles, slowly getting up on sore feet.

Connie chooses to laugh this time. “Guess that’s my cue to leave.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles, twisting the doorknob just before pulling it open.

“Ony,” Mitch, one of the security guards on his team greets.

“Wassup, man,” he nods.

Quietly, Mitch shifts to the side to allow him to see the short woman behind him: Bliss.

Ony’s eyes light up like a Christmas tree. Like he’s just been served the tastiest looking platter in the world; The finest piece of steak from STK Steakhouse.

“Hey.” The corner of his lips upturn.

“Hi.” Bliss had seemed to breathe the word out.

Without thinking, Ony outstretches an arm to pull her in for a side hug.

“‘Preciate it, y’all,” he says to the guards.

The two men turn away, returning to their stations at the end of the hallway.

Ony opens the door wider, allowing Bliss to slip past him and into the comfortably sized room. As she makes her way past him, he doesn’t stop his eyes from falling below her waist to check out her body.

Her ass moves like water in that dress. And the perfume wafting off of her, mingled with her body’s natural scent, is rich and warm. Luxurious, even. An expensive one for sure.

“Hey,” Bliss waves shyly, meeting Connie’s eyes.

The man with the bleached, shaved head makes a strong effort to keep eye contact. And if Onyankopon weren’t watching him closely from behind her, he would’ve broken it. If only to admire how her body stretches the fabric out—and how terribly it hides her nipples.

“Wassup, how you doing?” Connie smiles kindly. Standing up, he pockets his phone while outstretching a hand to her.

Politely, Bliss gives him a gentle shake before letting her hand fall back to the wooden handle of her purse.

“Ony,” Connie moves over to the man, dapping him up.

“We talk soon,” he nods.

As soon as the door shuts, with Connie’s departure, it’s like all of the air in the room has been sucked out.

Slowly, Bliss turns to face him. He’s already staring her down.

“It’s good seeing you in person.”

His voice is low, but soft.

Her body is covered in goosebumps within seconds. She gives a shaky smile, showing off that cute gap between her two front teeth.

“You, too,” she says.

“You nervous?” He smiles as he heads over to the room’s large vanity.

It allows her the space needed to breathe as she watches him retie the loosened strings of his durag.

“I am,” she giggles, wanting to cover her mouth. “The show was really good, though. I had fun.”

“I’m glad.” He turns back around, leaning against the vanity to stare at her. “Hope you appreciated the song.”

Her smile only grows. “I did, thank you. You don’t even know, I was dancing and everything.”

“Oh yeah?” He raises his brows, watching her beam.

“Yes, it’s my favorite!” She remembers telling him in their DMs that it was her favorite song of his.

However, that definitely isn’t how he learned that fact.

Almost bowing her head, Bliss looks up at him through her thick lash set. “Thank you for performing it.”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it.” He looks her up and down.

He might be exhausted, but he can definitely squeeze out one more performance for the night.

After all, his body is still running off of the adrenaline from the show.

“How was everything? The hotel good?”

She perks up at that. “Hm? Oh��yes!” She nods.

He thinks it’s cute.

“The hotel is very nice, and thanks for the driver.”

“Anything to make you comfortable.” He licks his lips. His eyes flick down for half of a second, catching a peak of her pierced nipples through the dress.

Of course, she notices.

“I’ma ride with you back to the hotel, take a quick shower, then we out for dinner. That’s cool with you?”

Her matte lips roll into her mouth and she nods. It’s a weak attempt at hiding an excited smile. They discussed this before—spending the night out together. Yet, Bliss still finds herself unable to really believe it.

His well-groomed brows lift just an inch. “That’s not a answer.”

She breaks into laughter, feeling silly. “Yes, Ony.”

“Aight. Lemme grab my shit and we could leave together.”

She nods, heading over to the vanity on her own accord as Ony moves about to gather his items.

As he packs his black, Margiela backpack, she tweaks her appearance in the brightly lit mirror. Smoothing down flyaways, fixing her lip combo—she does it all.

Being the great multitasker he is, Onyakopon sneaks glances at her from behind.

This view is everything: The only thing “covering” her ass in that dress is a tiny, black G-string that disappears between the globes of her cheeks anyway. Her honey-brown skin is dimpled but mark-free. And her narrow waist tempts him to grab it from behind.

If tonight goes as planned, backshots are definitely going to be on the agenda. Now, he’ll eventually flip her over on her back, because that face and those titties are too pretty for that position alone.

The mental imagine is enough to make his dick twitch. If he didn’t have any sense, he’d fuck her raw. Just to make her feel every inch and vein, and for him to feel the wet heat of her walls.

But before he gets too carried away with his own thoughts, Onyankopon blinks them away. Slipping into his jacket, he throws his backpack over a shoulder.

“Aight, let’s go.”

Nodding, Bliss returns to his side. Ony is quick to hold out a hand, which she takes.

“When we leave, it might be some fans and paps outside. I can’t control that, I’m sorry. But, I got my people with us, so you should be good.”

Bliss nods, only able to quietly take it all in. She’s never been in the spotlight before. She only hopes that they aren’t too crazy.

“Oh, wait—“

Quickly, she drops his hand to search through her purse. A couple of seconds later, she’s pulling out a pair of designer shades. They’re huge with blacked out lenses, perfect for hiding her face.

Ony laughs. “You got it.”

•

As they’re just a few feet from the exit, body guards at all of their sides, Bliss anticipates Ony dropping her hand, just to keep anymore rumors at bay.

However, as they pass through the threshold of the stadium and the cool, outside air hits them, her hand is still heavy with his.

“Ony!”

“Onyankopon, look this way!”

“Who’s this that you brought out tonight?”

“Is that your girlfriend, Ony?”

Using her purse, Bliss blocks the other side of her face, hoping the cameras don’t catch anything. Her lips tremble as she tries to keep from laughing at the obscene and invasive questions.

Their driver plucks the back door of their car open—a Rolls Royce. Ony lets go of her hand to let her in first.

Just as he climbs in, the driver shuts the door behind them. The second his security backs away from the car, paparazzi and a few fans close-in on the vehicle, trying to snap pictures through the tinted windows.

“Wow,” Bliss laughs, breathlessly. She pulls the large shades off of her face, allowing him to seeing her beautiful face.

“My bad ‘bout that. Should’ve prepared you more.”

“It was actually tamer than I thought,” she smiles.

“Shit, my bad. Ain’t know you had it like that.”

She only laughs at his joke, and he can only think about how much he likes the sound.

As the driver pulls off, heading towards Onyankopon’s hotel, Bliss opens up her camera. She records a couple of clips here and there of herself in the car, careful to keep Ony out of it.

It’s cute, he thinks, how she doesn’t try to take advantage of such a moment. Even more, it allows him to worry less about putting a guard up; He pulls out his phone.

On Twitter and TikTok, he catches posts of his concert, liking and reposting his favorite ones. All of the love from his fans makes his chest swell with pride.

ATL definitely showed out tonight. A contender with Chicago, for sure.

Shutting his phone off, Ony drops it into his lap and leans back in his seat. His gaze is attracted to the woman beside him.

In the low lighting, she’s gorgeous. As the driver narrowly avoids the greater part of a pothole in the street, the car is unstable for a second or two.

In that time, his eyes fall to her chest, seeing how it bounces even under the confines of her dress.

It triggers multiple images in his brain—memories of her past streams.

Finally shutting off her phone, Bliss does a quiet sigh as she pushes her hair over one shoulder, exposing more of her upper half.

Blinking, she finally takes a look at him, and they make eye contact. Off of instinct, she laughs nervously.

“Hi.”

He smiles, showing off his grills. “Hey.”

She rolls her eyes, shaking her head lazily. So oblivious to just how impatient he is for her.

A date with Onyankopon.

She, Bliss, is on a date with The Onyankopon. Never did she think that would be her reality.

Before they arrived, he did just as promised—stopping by his hotel to get ready. He had her stay in the car, yet he definitely didn’t make her wait too long.

When he got back into the car, keeping his backpack at his feet, he smelled heavenly. His cologne was arousing—something about a good smelling man really just does it for her.

His outfit seemed to match the vibe she had went for: a brown Miu Miu leather and sheepskin jacket with snakeskin and flowers over the shoulders. His pants are a basic black, baggy fit jean with chains dangling from a pocket. His jewelry, of course, is silver.

And without a durag, his shiny waves were out for all to see.

There’s no doubt, he’d chosen the fanciest restaurant out here. It was a two-level establishment, and they have the entire second floor to themselves.

Just three of Ony’s security personnel guard the entrance and exit to the staircase. It’s quiet up here, yet peaceful. However, Bliss feels quite awkward, as all of the attention is on her.

They had gotten through appetizers before the real conversation began. Well, really Ony had gone through it. After a show like that, it’s no wonder that he’s worked up an appetite.

Bliss picked at the food here and there, careful not to get full too fast. She also is still nervous.

“What you do earlier today? Before my show.”

Swallowing her sip of the mixed drink she had ordered, Bliss presses a hand to her chest.

“Just some shopping. This is my first time in Atlanta, so I wanted to take advantage of the malls.” She laughs quietly. “I hope your driver didn’t mind.”

Rubbing at his chin hairs, he glances at her purse set off to the side of the table. It’s crisp and the color is well saturated. There’s not an inch of the bag frayed or faded.

“You got this today?”

She follows his gaze. “Yeah,” she says nervously.

He hums. “How much you pay for it?”

She shrugs. “About 6k.”

He smirks to himself, still eyeing the bag. “That’s light … you want it in cash?”

Her eyes almost bulge out of her head. “What? I don’t—“

“If you don’t take the cash, I’ma find a way to get it to you. So quit all’at stuttering, humble shit.”

His voice is calm, quiet too. Which only astounds her, because there’s nothing calm about someone offering her six grand.

But, she’s not slick. Even as her mouth hangs open, he spots the hint of a smile on her stretched lips.

“It’s … I don’t need it, Ony.”

“Shit, I know.” Huffing out a breath of amusement, he smirks down at her. “But you want it, so just take it.”

She looks off to the side, her hair falling in her face before she pushes it over her shoulder for the umpteenth time tonight.

“Y’know, I knew ‘bout you for a minute.”

That stops her in her tracks.

Her Instagram profile is that of the typical IG model—sponsorships, the occasional risky photo, but overall, pretty moderate.

How long had he known about her page? Was he stalking her profile like she’d done his? Why only now say something?

Her heart races. All of these questions she wants to ask—she opens her mouth to do so.

“Yeah, you cute on ‘em live streams.” He continues rubbing at his chin, still eyeing her.

And as those words left his mouth, her own closes.

Her career as a cam-girl isn’t in the spotlight. It’s no well-kept secret, nor is her page really even hard to find. Still, it’s always jarring when she has to come face-to-face with that in reality.

“W-what?“

Her voice is quiet. The shock on her face is quite apparent, too.

“I catch ‘em when I can.” He sits back in his chair and shrugs.

She knows it’s greedy, but if that’s how she gets her money, then so be it: her streams are only accessible to those subbed to her highest tier on her cam-girl page.

“Oh … my God,” she whispers, putting a hand over her mouth.

He cracks a smile, a small chuckle falling out past his lips.

“How long did you—“ She stops herself, looking at him with wide eyes.

“Couple months,” he says, like it’s no big deal.

Her stomach drops to her ass. And as a new thought emerges in her head, her stomach threatens to fall out of her body.

“What’s your username?”

She almost didn’t even want to ask. Onyankopon can only laugh.

“C’mon, now. Y’know who I am.”

She fears she does. He doesn’t need to say it:

onLyONE1

Falling back in her chair, Bliss covers her face as she groans into her hands.

“Shit was obvious, too—“

“Stop, please!” She laughs, shyly. Pulling her hands away from her face, she reveals a soft pout on her lips. “I can’t believe you saw that,” she whines.

Is it crazy that his eyes seem to sparkle as he smiles? “What? Your body?”

“No! Well—kinda. I mean me crushing over you!”

Now, he’s practically cackling. And Bliss’ face burns with embarrassment.

Calming himself down, Ony sighs. “Relax, I thought it was cute.”

She gives him a weak glance, immediately looking away.

“I can’t believe this.” She groans. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

He shakes his head. “That’s federal. I wasn’t even gon’ say nothing, ‘til I found out you was a fan—“

“Ugh,” she looks away, a scowl on her lips. “Don’t do that.”

“You right, my fault,” he chuckles. “A supporter,” he corrects.

“Thank you.”

He hums. “But, that shit was sexy, though.” He shrugs. “So, I had to fly you out here, see you in person.”

When she regains the courage to look him in the eyes, she feels small in her seat. His eye contact is unwavering.

“And get you all to myself.” He scoffs as he runs his eyes over her upper body. “Couldn’t stand you paying attention to all them broke ass niggas.”

His lips frown with thinly veiled disgust. It almost makes her laugh. On the other hand, the statement as a whole makes her tummy flutter.

She hates to admit it, but a possessive man will always be her weakness.

“I’ll double what I gave you, just to get you for tonight.”

“I … Ony…“

The offer is tempting, real tempting. But, can she really do this? The whole 'pay-for-pussy' thing?

He senses her apprehension. Wordlessly, he reaches down by his foot.

The low whine of a zipper catches her ears. Before she can question it, three, fat stacks of rubber-banded hundreds are dropped onto the table. Right before her widened eyes.

He pockets his hands, leaning back in his chair once more. “I matched you for the bag, too.” He nods to the stack.

She’s breathless. All of this money, it’s making her head spin. “O-Ony—“

Her resolve is cracking, he can tell. And this has got to be his favorite part about having money—the power it gives him. He widens his legs underneath the table, feeling himself grow stiff already.

“I’ma selfish ass nigga. I know that. And if I see something I want, I’ma get it. All I really need is one night … but, if you fucking with me, I’ll keep you put up.”

Her brain attempts to formulate a coherent thought, yet nothing comes up. This sounds too good to be true.

But, her mind can’t deny what’s in front of her. And, the idea of him spending so much just to have her—even for a night—only gets her wetter by the second.

He stares at her, patiently awaiting an answer he already knows he’ll get.

But, just to get it out of her faster, he turns up the heat: reaching back into his bag, Onyankopon pulls out another fat stack, placing it on top of the others.

Like magic, Bliss finds her mouth moving before she can even really think twice about it.

She’s giggly off the drinks, but she isn’t the only one. As Onyankopon continues ordering more and more alcohol to the table, she can see that he, too, is loosening up.

He’s talking more, a tad bit more touchy, and even bolder in his flirtatiousness.

She likes it.

Another thing about her and alcohol; She gets talkative. Part of her brain is screaming at her to put a sock in it, judging by Ony’s demeanor:

He’s sat back with an arm thrown over the back of the chair, slowly chewing as he stares at her with low eyes. In his hand, his fingers slowly twist a balled up napkin.

But, she just can’t stop talking. Her mouth is running a mile a minute—she doesn’t even remember what she’s talking about.

However, all of her spouting comes to a stop when Ony finally sits up. Looking elsewhere, he throws the napkin down on the table.

Her eyes dart around. “What happened?”

Pulling out a crisp, black card from his wallet, he snaps it down on the cloth-table. “Ready to go.”

“Oh…”

Oh shit.

It takes almost no time at all for the waiter to take Ony’s card. In the blink of an eye, they’re standing on their feet, ready to leave.

“Don’t forget your cash.”

For a split second, Bliss is confused. But, when she follows the direction of where he points to, she’s quickly reminded.

Those large stacks of cash he’d pulled out for her earlier were sitting so casually to the side of the table, next to her purse. Like it wasn’t money itself. And a lot of it.

She slips her purse over her wrist before scooping them up in her arms.

“Yeah, there you go,” Ony nods, smiling at her.

They follow his security team to the elevator. All the while, he’s got an arm thrown over her slender shoulders.

Only two of his staff follow them into the moderately sized shaft. As the two, burly men stand in front of them, hands clasped before them in similar fashion, Ony’s arm remains around her neck, keeping her back pressed against his front.

And, boy, does it make her dizzy. Not only that, but her body buzzes with a renewed sense of energy.

Everything about him, physically, is all encompassing. His cologne is so strong that it’s all she smells. The weight of his body isn’t stifling, but grounding. Even keeping her warm.

And as her body practically melts into his, the fat of her ass is smushed against his front.

The press of his print, which happens to lie perfectly between both cheeks, is impossible to ignore. She won’t even bother shifting around to get comfortable. Instead, she succumbs to his hold—too easily—and releases a shaky sigh.

Turns out her guess was right, he is big.

When they step out of the restaurant, yet again do they have to shield their faces from the barrage of cameras and flashes surrounding them.

This time, they run to the car, hopping in as silly laughter pours from them. God, they’re so drunk.

“C’mere … so fuckin’ far.” Ony seems to breathe out the words.

Even in the darkness, the look of lust is written all over him. It’s even swimming around in the air. Her eyes do a full sweep of his body, noting how wide his thick legs are spread.

Like a minx, she slinks over from her seat and right onto the one he presents to her.

“Mmh,” he hums, immediately snaking his arms around her small waist and dragging her up higher into his lap.

She giggles, feeling all of him beneath her.

“You smell good.” He mumbles the words into the warm skin of her neck.

Bliss bends her head down and even sweeps all of her hair over the other shoulder to give him more access to her.

The kisses he lays there are hot and wet, pressed into her warm and soft skin. She shivers. One of his hands press into her lower stomach, keeping her from moving too much.

The pulse between her legs has grown into an ache. Every clench her pussy does is almost painful with how strong it is, even worse now that he’s hard beneath her.

God, why did she pick such a long dress?

Without thinking, she grounds down onto him, weakly. Onyankopon’s other hand travels upwards the middle of her abdomen.

She doesn’t focus on his lingering touch. She can’t. Not when he’s sucking a pretty bruise into the side of her neck. Her breathing quickens, and slow, tiny pants leave through her parted lips.

His traveling hand slides up between the valley of her boobs and anchors around her neck just as he lifts his mouth off of her. She bites down on her bottom lip, yet another giggle slips through her teeth.

“Thin-ass dress.” He tightens his grip around her neck. “Might as well have not worn anything.”

His deep voice and his rough hand has her pussy leaking into her panties. He lifts his hips by a fraction, and it pushes a small moan from her.

“Freaky ass lil’ bitch. Got ya titties all out—who’s it for?”

Her eyes flutter shut and she swallows thickly.

He squeezes another moan out of her. “Hm?”

“Y-you.”

He chuckles. “Got my dick all hard, starin’ at ‘em.”

His hand finally moves, and the skin on her neck is cold. She misses it. But, that’s forgotten when both of his hands cup her heavy breasts.

Bliss arches her back, pushing them further into his warm hands. And, never one to refuse a gift, Ony squeezes them.

Her body is weak as he plays with them, damn-near juggling them in his hands. And as he laughs, clearly amused by her body’s reaction, she can only try to keep her moans at bay.

“So pretty,” he mumbles before pressing a a kiss to the side of her face. “Pretty ass titties.”

His hands still, only cupping them. Then, his thumbs begin slow circles her pierced nipples through the dress’s thin fabric. Its tiny netting does nothing to shield her body against the gentle caress.

She turns her head to the side, her mouth open and desperate for something to plug it before an embarrassingly loud moan leaves it.

And like her knight in shining armor, Onyankopon indulges her in an open-mouth kiss. He wastes no time, sucking on her tongue.

Around her piercings, his fingers pinch and pull at her nipples. Bliss can’t help it, moaning into his mouth. Her hips rock against his, desperate to finally get on his dick.

When he finally pulls back, they can both breathe. And it’s the first time that they notice music playing through the car’s speakers.

“Mmh, fuck,” he sighs. Ony sits back in his seat.

Breathlessly, Bliss fixes her hair, trying to distract herself from the way her body was lit on fire from just kisses and fondling.

Ony looks around the back cavern of the car, quickly finding just what he was looking for: his bottle of Don. It’s stuffed in the side pocket of the car door, calling out for him.

Securing an arm around her waist, Ony leans forward to pick it up out of the car door’s side pocket. When he’s sits back, he pulls the top off the bottle and wastes no time taking a sip.

Busying herself, Bliss grabs her phone from its spot in the cupholder. She opens up Instagram and holds her phone up to snap a couple of clips of herself.

The near darkness of the vehicle is perfect, showing not too much nor too little for the camera to see. And every last clip stays in her drafts.

Still, she’s careful not to get Ony’s face in it, only doing close ups of her face as the music plays.

When Onyankopon finally pulls the bottle away from his face, he sees what she’s doing.

As she records another clip, she zooms in on her body, caressing herself and even showing off her pierced nipples through the dress.

A quick thought puts a smirk on his face. He interrupts, bringing his hand into frame as he squeezes one of her boobs. The ring on his pinky finger glistens under the cameras low flash.

With a surprised gasp, she cuts the clip short.

“Keep recordin’,” he says in her ear, gruffly.

“Why?” She chuckles. “You wanna be seen?”

He scoffs quietly. “That’s cute.” Shifting his hips, he pushes his dick harder against her, just for a bit of spite. “This just for you, though. Don’t post nothing.”

His nose and lips to her neck, his voice in her ear, his hands on her body—she shivers.

Pressing record again. She zooms in on his hand as it gropes her yet again. Very soon after, it slides up and wraps around her neck. She stops the video.

With a giggle, she saves it to her drafts. “Should I send it to you?” She questions, tapping away on her phone.

“Nah, keep that,” he mumbles. Turning his head, Onyankopon peers out of the window, watching the city zoom past them. “Got some other shit planned.”

Thankfully, there’s no paps around. No need for them to rush into the hotel or hide their faces.

As they take their time to get out of the vehicle, Ony’s security surrounds the car.

“Wait—the money,” Bliss worries.

She’s halfway out of the car, a hand in Ony’s clutch as he’s the one helping her out.

“Don’t trip, I’ma have my people get it for you.”

As her feet land on the concrete ground, Onyankopon laces an arm laces around her waist, pulling her in close.

“Okay,” she hums, bringing a hand to his chest.

As she looks up into Onyankopon’s low eyes, the lust in them is undeniable. She practically shivers with excitement.

“You cold?” He chuckles, cracking a grill-decorated smile. His perfectly groomed brows even pull together.

God, she’s never noticed how perfect his face looks up close.

Dumbly, she nods, her lips stretching into a wide smile. She watches his eyes flick downward to glimpse at her lips.

“I’ma get you warm soon, right?”

“Mmh, okay.”

Shaking his head, he allows himself to smile wider as he follows his security team into the hotel.

As he said, two men stay behind to clean up the money at the back of the Rolls Royce. Just for Bliss.

Onyankopon’s room is on the eleventh floor. Normally, one would think that the commute from the hotel lobby to his room—by way of elevator, of course—wouldn’t take much time.

Five minutes, max.

But to Bliss, those five minutes are feeling a lot like thirty, at the very least.

While they waited for the elevator, Onyankopon was all over her. Large hands pulling her in and keeping her close—gripping her ass, too.

She’d whine his name, pushing her face into his chest. Because with the little bit of stragglers lingering in the lobby, there were still wandering eyes.

And he’d tell her, “Let ‘em watch,” because that’s the type of nigga he is.

‘Rapper’ seems like a fitting title for him.

Oh, but when they finally get in the elevator? Not even his security being there was enough to keep him off of her.

He traps her against the back wall of the elevator. His large hand grasps the junction of her neck and jaw.

There’s tongue involved, far sooner than she thought there would be. But, she’s not complaining. Their heads twist as they suck on each other.

She finds herself moaning into his mouth as he applies pressure around her neck.

Bliss is barely able to pull away with the inch of breath that she was able to escape with. Both their lips are glossed over with spit—slimy and sticky. Their rushed pants quickly dry it, however.

Before either of them can say anything, the elevator dings with the announcement of their arrival to the eleventh floor.

Only once the door to Ony’s suite shuts, is when they finally lose his security for the night.

Bliss remains near the door, her first thought to take off her shoes. She keeps a hand on the nearby wall as she unhooks the back of her kitten heel from her foot.

It should take only ten seconds to get both shoes off. Yet, she lingers in that spot well after the time is up. Why?

Well, she’s watching him.

Watching Onyankopon shrug that heavy jacket off of his wide shoulders and throw it down on the mini bar table. Watching him kick off his shoes. Watching him take a seat on a short leather couch, positioned in the middle of the circular shaped living room.

She isn’t quick enough; He catches her staring.

Her second heel finally drops to the ground. It makes a muted thud against the tiled floor—which is cold against her perfectly manicured feet.

With a tired sigh, Ony leans back against the couch, refusing to break eye contact. “Come.”

A faint smile makes the corner of her lips rise, and an amused scoff leaves her.

This time, Onyankopon watches her.

Watches the way her hips seem to perfectly sway—if even unintentional—with each step. Watches how her boobs bounce softly beneath the tight dress. Watches her land softly on his open lap, throwing an arm around his neck, too.

She throws her purse and phone down onto the cushion next to them, completely disregarding the objects.

Softly, he kisses his teeth, his eyes running over her body.

“When you gon’ take this fucking dress off?”

She laughs. “When are you gonna take it off me?”

He licks his lips as he reaches behind her to slide a hand up her back, searching blindly for—he found it.

At the top of her back, at the base of her neck, his fingers collect the small zipper and pulls. He drags it all the way down her spine, until the track stops, right above her ass.

“Now you want me to pull it off or you got that?”

Rolling her eyes, Bliss tugs at the tight sleeves of her dress, pulling her arms out. As she drags the constricting fabric down her body, her boobs spill out.

The piercings immediately catch his attention. He resists the urge to reach out for them and touch.

Pulling back her hair, she tosses the bundles over a shoulder, allowing him to see everything. For a moment, she stands, only to pull the rest of the dress down.

When she finally steps out of the pool of her own clothes, the only thing that covers her is that tiny ass G-string.

“Wish I could’a seen you at the show,” he tells her as she comes to sit back down on his lap.

Bliss licks her lips, looking down into his eyes. She hums, gazing at him. “I was dancing and everything.”

“Oh, yeah?” His voice is soft and hushed, like hers. “Show me how you was dancing.”

She bites down on her lip, trying to stop her smile from growing.

He shifts beneath her, if only to pull out his phone. It’s a seamless process, how he was able to connect his phone to speakers that seem to be connected throughout the entire suite.

She almost laughs, if it weren’t for how serious he is; It’s one of Ony’s songs from his recently released EP.

“Be my dancer,” he says in her ear, smiling wide.

She almost shivers.

Wordlessly, she turns her back to him and puts hands on his spread knees. Leaning forward, she starts a slow whine. And Ony is all too happy to watch her ass move in circles right on his lap.

Reaching into his jeans pocket, he pulls out a rubber-banded stack, just a bit thinner than those he had at the restaurant. He pops the elastic binding all of the bills together.

The beat changes, and Bliss shakes her ass side-to-side. Ony stretches an arm over her. The quick flick of his thumb pushes fifties and hundreds fluttering over her.

Entranced by the way the fat of her ass moves, he palms one cheek with the other hand.

As he begins to rub, Bliss returns to a slow whine before dropping it in his lap, earning a grunt from him. When she lifts her ass to do it again, Ony smacks it, gripping her immediately after.

Every time, she bounces her ass harder against him. She fights the urge to stop dancing and just solely grind against him, because at this point it’s getting hard to ignore the way he’s poking through his jeans.

Her bounces grow shorter. The pressure and friction threaten to make her eyes roll back. She’s close to moaning out.

“Shit…” He bites down on his lower lip as he grips the fat of her hip. “Sexy ass lil’ bitch,” he groans.

In all this excitement, he almost forgot what they were doing. Picking the stack back up, he resumes the money shower, allowing the rest of his bills to rain down on her.

She looks back at him over her shoulder, noting the hand in his lap, holding his belt.

Biting down on her lip, Bliss fluidly turns around to get on her knees between his legs. The fallen bills keep her skin from touching the cold tiles.

One hand is positioned on his knee. The other snakes up his other legs, heading towards the buckle of his belt.

“Oh, you wanna get nasty?” His smile is full of mischief.

She nods as she focuses on opening his pants.

“Shiiit, go ‘head.”

And he didn’t need to tell her again.

Manicured hands pull him out of his boxers. Bliss has to take a minute to cement this moment in her brain. Her heart is pounding in his chest.

He’s heavy in her hand. The very tips of her acrylics just barely touch as she’s wrapped around him. His thickness makes her tummy stir. She can’t wait to take him.

All of those nights she’s spent in bed, imagining him buried deep in her guts—now, it won’t be a toy doing the work. It’ll be the real thing.

Leaning forward, Bliss presses a kiss to the underside of his head. Quickly, she stretches out her tongue and laves it.

“Don’t try to be cute,” he says through gritted teeth. Immediately, a hand swabs around the back of her head to gather her bundles in a messy, yet tight ponytail. “Suck me up like you do with them toys.”

She opens her mouth wide. Carefully tucking her teeth, Bliss engulfs his entire tip. She keeps him between her tongue and the roof of her mouth, sucking.

Her pace isn’t necessarily slow, that wasn’t even her intention. But, she’s not fast enough, either.

The hand in her hair guides her, encouraging a smooth push-and-pull of her head.

He sucks in air through his teeth. “Oou, just like that. Yeah—relax that throat.”

Her hands stretch across his denim-dressed knee caps, squeezing tighter as she struggles to keep up.

There’s a soft clinch in her face, eyes watering, as she gently gags.

“M-make sure you get that shit wet—mmh. Get it messy … just like that, get my dick messy.”

His voice softly coaxes her on. The firm grip on her hair paired with his commands has her doing everything he wants, and probably more.

His pace picks up, his force getting rougher. And even beneath the thick fans of her lash extensions, he can see her eyes rolling back.

Her gags are heavier, louder. His dick stabs her throat, causing wet clicks every time he touches the back of it.

He groans out, his stomach clinching, as he feels her tighten around him.

“Sshit!” He laughs, her choking music to his ears. With a hiccup, a large rivulets of spit leak from her puckered lips and drips down his dick. “Yeaaah, just like that!”

As he chuckles over her, her pussy bares down on nothing. Her body is obsessed with the way he sounds.

It’s messy—so messy. Frothy bubbles of spit and cum gather at the rounded corners of her mouth. Thick globs hang from her lips, some of it even rolls down her neck. But all of it drips onto her bare chest, sticking to smooth skin.

And she doesn’t intend to do anything about it. The only goal she aims to accomplish at the moment is taking this dick without throwing up all over it.

Ony hooks a hand on the underside of her jaw as the other only tightens around her hair. All movement of her head is halted and the brief moment of stillness allows her to breathe properly—through her nose, of course.

“You gon’ swallow?”

“Mhm,” she nods eagerly. The fragile hum crackled as it left her.

Ony gazes down into her tear-filled eyes. He notes the mess clouding the bottom of her pretty face

“Sure?”

Her muffled ‘yes’ almost makes him laugh. She can hardly speak around his dick.

“Aight then.”

This time, he’s driving his hips forward, face-fucking her. Bliss lurches forward, hacking as he drills her throat. Yet she doesn’t tell him to stop. Nor does she pull away or even tap his thigh.

“C’mon,” he grunts, the deepest scowl on his face. “Take this dick, take this … f-fucking dick.”

Her body goes pliant as she allows him to use her face like a toy. However, her lips remain tight around him. She doesn’t even try to keep the spit from falling out of her mouth.

The longer he continues, his dick glides in and out of her lips. It’s all so slippery, she gags less and less with every thrust.

There is no announcement of his arrival. Only one more brutal thrust before he presses his hips to her face. They occasionally twitch as he shoots thick ropes of cum down her throat.

She almost chokes. Almost. It’s difficult to swallow his load around his dick, she lets out a gag or two.

When he finally drags himself out of her mouth, webs of spit and cum stretch between his tip and her swollen lips. She heaves, his hanging dick still in her face.

Too focused on gathering her breath, Bliss doesn’t see as he pulls his shirt off.

“Lift ya head,” he says, a soft hand cradling the back of hers.

Bliss looks up, staring into his eyes as he uses his Coogi shirt to wipe the muck off of her face.

His brows are furrowed as he concentrates on cleaning her off. “Yeah … can’t have all this shit drying on ya skin.” He even goes as far as to get her neck and chest. “Aight … there. You good now.”

He pats her cheek with a smile, earning a giggle from the woman on her knees.

“Thank you.”

He outstretches a hand, helping her up on her two feet.

“It’s nothing,” he says softly. Using his soiled shirt, he wipes down his dick and inner thighs. And when he’s done, he tosses it aside.

As Ony is pulling up his pants, his dark eyes roaming her bare body, he gets an idea—eager to have her participate in it.

“You tryna smoke?”

•

The blunt shakes between her unsteady fingers. She doesn’t get a good inhale in—can hardly even pass it back to him.

Onyankopon does her a favor, taking the blunt back as he pushes his dick back in.

“Oou—shit.” Her shaky groan is music to his ears.

Holding the thick blunt between his lips, he takes his time bottoming out, both hands on her hips.

Her pussy flutters around him, her stomach stirring. This is the deepest he’s gotten, feeling his tip smushed against her cervix. Her head’s dizzy.

“Fuuuck, Onyy—“ A weak hand, hesitant in nature, cradles her lower tummy,

“I’m deep?”

“Mh—yes.” Her breath hitches.

He lifts a hand from her skin to pluck the blunt from between his lips. A thin cloud of smoke puffs from his nose.

“You could handle it,” he rasps.

The slowly burning blunt dries his throat out, almost makes it scratchy. And yet the wetness between Bliss’ thighs makes it easy to forget the minor discomfort.

A shaky gasp slips from her mouth as he begins a slow stroke. It’s no surprise to her when—even as he’s the one fucking her—he pulls her back by the hips. The quiet clap of her ass against his pelvis and thighs cheers him on. It encourages him.

He wants her to be louder. He wants to hear more.

One minute he’s delivering slow, deep strokes, letting her body sing. Her pussy’s got a vice-like grip around him as it creams around him. Before long, she’s gripping the sheets tight and her legs tremble.

Blunt be damned; Onyankopon drops it onto the floor in favor of focusing on the woman below him.

Her moans are loud and guttural as his dick punches her stomach from the inside. Even as they’re loud, the bed’s pristine, white sheets weaken the sounds.

And that just isn’t doing it for him.

“Nah, c’mere—“

Fingers grip her hair to yank her face out of the sheets. Her neck strains as her head is angled so far back, that she catches sight of something she’d been too horny to even see before: the mirror above the bed.

She’s got a clear eye-view of herself getting fucked as roughly as she’s always dreamed. It makes her clench down on him harder, she even whimpers seeing it. In such a fucked out state, it’s a drug seeing the way her body ricochets against his.

A small part of her is embarrassed seeing the faces she makes, she’s out of it. Yet, she loves it all the same. With Onyankopon as another set of eyes, she loves it even more—being watched while he turns her out.

Moan after moan pours from her lips until her throat is sore, and even then she still continues to yell at the top of her lungs about how good his dick is.

“Yes—yes! So … fuckin’ big—oh fuck!”

It’s impossible to keep her grip on reality. Her knees can barely hold her up. The sweet pain in her lower stomach has her eyes rolling back. Ony tugs at her roots harder.

“Know you see yourself,” he grunts. “Know you see how I’m fuckin’ you.”

His smirk and breathless voice is just the cherry on top—she trembles as she squirts on him. But her release doesn’t make him slow down. In fact, Onyankopon goes harder.

“Mhm … cream on my shit. Squirt on my shit—drown me.”

Every time she tries to look at their reflection her eyes either crossed or she just can’t keep them open. All of her strength is reduced to nothing.

Onyankopon’s strokes, which hold an ungodly amount of force behind them, shakes the woman to her core. It knocks the air from her chest.

A choked noise followed by heavy breathing is all that her body can muster. Seeing his response, Ony does it again, loving how it leaves her breathless and with no sound.

He does it again. And again. And again. The clapping of skin is deafening to Bliss’s ears. Her vision blurs and all her body can do is focus on one thing at a time. All sounds begin to fade out. She can only spotlight the repeating jabs to her insides.

Every time she tightens around him, he finds it harder to hold back. But he keeps up. The faster he goes, the more sloppy and less accurate he becomes.

As they continue on it doesn’t matter, Bliss is so close to another release, that it would only take a couple of these blind thrusts for her to cum again.

“Shiiit!”

“What? It’s not enough?” He pulls out, and quickly thrusts back in, feeling triumphant when she yelps out.

“T-too mu—much,” she hisses.

He pulls out and she gasps, her body clenching around nothing. He takes himself in his hand, rubbing the head against her lips. He smears her cream around with his latex-covered tip.

She’s been stretched open, making it all too easy for him to see the creamy pinkness typically hidden behind brown lips. It’s a sight for sure, one that he can’t look away from as she pushes out some of her previous release.

However, he hadn’t realized that he was pressed for time; Bliss whines out, pushing back on him. Even her cunt clenches down, like it missed the fullness.

“C’mon,” she mumbles into the sheets.

He laughs. “You was just crying it was ’too much.’”

A brief moment of strength strikes her as she pulls her head out of the pillows to look back at him. “Put it in, Ony!”

With little to no effort, on account of how wet she was, he slips right back in, granting her that satisfying feeling of being stuffed.

She moans sweetly and drops her head into the sheets, a long groan moving past her lips and he rolled his hips. The feeling of him stroking her insides, so good, better than good.

It was great, and her eyes rolling back were evidence of that. He pulls out and pushes back in, repeating that movement at a fast pace. She sank her teeth into her lip, trying to stop herself from being too loud.

Bringing her hips up higher, Onyankopon achieves a better angle. She was getting drunk off his strokes, as well as the sound of him blowing her back out.

“Oh—oh… God,” she drawls.

The pleasure is overwhelming and she scoots up, trying to lessen the hits to her guts.

“Oh, so you runnin’? I thought you wanted me to beat it up?”

He pulls her back and holds onto her shoulders. Applying pressure, he uses that leverage to repeatedly bring her back on him, his thrusts hitting harder and deeper..

“Oh fuuuck,” she groaned and gasps, shutting her eyes to stop them from rolling back.

“You confusin’ me, mama.”

He’s reveling in the tight, warm and wet hug her body offers. He looks down, noting how her her body coats his dick in her cum.

“Shit, shit, oh fuck,” she whines.

He smacks her ass and keeps going.

“Oh shit…” he groans. “So… fuckin’ good,” he says under his breath, closing his eyes and getting lost in the feeling.

Bliss’s whimpers bring him back. Her thighs shake and her arch comes undone.

In a flash, the desire to see her face again hits him like a freight train. And what other choice does he have but to do something about it?

It’s hard, but Onyankopon pulls out. Using what’s left of his strength, he flips her over on her back and drags her body to the edge of the bed. He’s wordless in his actions, she’ll see his point very soon.

But, for now, Bliss sits up on her elbows to watch with tired confusion as he moves her.

Strong hands grabs her thighs and pull her flush against his front, eliciting a yelp from her. Instinctively, she wraps her legs around his waist, giving him the perfect opportunity to lift her hips completely off the bed.

“What the fuck?” She laughs, her fatigue so apparent in her hoarse voice.

She has to make a great effort to hold herself up. Of course, Ony holds her, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t doing some type of work.

“Trying something different. You good with this?”

She doesn’t think she’s ever been in such a position. It excites her, makes her giddy. It even brings a renewed sense of excitement and energy to her body. Her hair falls in her face as she gives a loose nod.

The muscles in his bicep flex as he transfers all of her weight to one hand, busying the other as he grabs himself. Just like this, she’s like a five-star meal placed before him, ready for him to demolish.

He gives himself two quick tugs before aligning with her weeping center and slowly pushing back in.

The stretch is wonderful every time, evidenced by the way Bliss throws her head back.

He fucks into her, holding onto her hips so tight that his thumbs press against her hip bones. She writhes, and her legs damn near squeeze the life out of him as he hits spots in her that she didn’t even think to be possible.

“Keep squeezin’ me like that—yeah,” he groans out, throwing his head back as well.

Her moans seem to have run out despite her mouth hanging wide open. She’s completely silent, unable to scream as he digs her out.

“Uh—fuck, I’m ‘bout to c-cum—” Ony’s resolve seems to be cracking as his voice waivers with his moans.

Her legs tremble and her pretty toes curl so tight that her feet almost cramp up.

A burning heat flashes throughout his body as his orgasm catches him by surprise. His mouth drops open and his muscles tense before he leans down, dropping them back onto the mattress as he pushes his face into her neck.

Senselessly, Onyankopon ruts into her, riding out his nut until he stops filling the condom. The overstimulation pushes Bliss over the edge as well.

Her orgasm comes crashing down around them as her pussy clenches down on him, only wetting his dick further. She hugs him close, keeping him from pulling out too soon.

“Awe fuck,” he mumbles. As his lips had moved against the skin of her neck, it tickles her.

She giggles.

“Fuck you laughing for?”

She can hear the smile in his voice.

“Tickles,” she breathes out. Shifting beneath him, she can still feel him inside of her, softening by the minute.

His chest rumbles with a deep sigh. “This shit got me … wantin’ to pass out.”

She hums in agreement, slowly dragging a hand up and down his back. His body is hot, a bit sweaty, too. She doesn’t doubt that hers feels the same way to him.

Movements filled with fatigue, Onyankopon pushes himself up to look down at her. Her makeup is definitely fucked up, courtesy of tonight’s events. And yet, he can’t stop himself from smiling when he stares at her.

“What?” She laughs, growing just a little bit shy.

“You better than a fuckin’ blunt after a show.”

She breaks into a full on laugh, giving him a much clearer view of her cute gap. “Thanks?”

“Nah,” he says, shaking his head. “I definitely gotta keep you around.”

And even if he didn’t want to, Bliss doesn’t think she’d let him go.

…

Taglist -> @wintrrxxo @vibewshyla @icanmakethedickstandup @toji-dabi-wife @genea-myers @whoareyouuuo @nova2kss

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cookiescribble · 6 months ago

Text

Flufftober Day 4: Market Day

AN: it should be no surprise that I will be writing a decent amount for spencer this flufftober 🫶🏻 writing spencer fluff is my favorite thing, so here's something short and sweet :) -mod angel

Pairing: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader

Summary: Spencer insisted on giving you some help getting your groceries after spending the night at your apartment.

~~~

“You didn’t have to come with me, I just need to get a few things.”

Spencer was strolling along the aisle next to you, pushing the shopping cart after he insisted he be the one to take it.

“I just feel kind of weird being in your apartment without you,” he shrugged as if it was something nonchalant, but he was looking at you with those big eyes of his that say I would’ve missed you.

You had only been dating for a few months now, and Spencer sleeping over was still something that was pretty new. You both were still getting used to it, but it was something that made you both really happy. Especially being able to wake up next to each other, and now run morning errands together.

Waking up next to Spencer, now something you did multiple days a week, was one of your favorite things in the world. Seeing his sleepy face in the morning, with his hair all messy from sleeping, and the way he clung to you when he woke up… it filled your heart with a warmth you’d never felt before.

You smiled as you remembered waking up with him, and you leaned up to give him a quick peck on the cheek. His face turned a shade of light pink, and he gave you a bashful smile.

“Okay!” You clapped your hands together. “What’s next on the list?”

Spencer pulled the list you had both compiled out of his pocket. “Hmm… I think it says cookies.”

You looked at him, laughing warmly. “It definitely does not say cookies.”

“Yeah it does,” he laughed with you. “Right under bread. You don’t have to check it, I’ve got it.” He was already taking a box of chocolate chip cookies off the shelf and putting it in the cart, shoving the list back in his pocket, a playful smile on his face.

You just laughed, letting him get the cookies without argument. You knew he had a big sweet tooth.

“Well, something I know for sure that is on the list is chocolate chips and maple syrup, because I wanted to make us pancakes for breakfast,” you said as you continued walking through the store.

Almost as if on cue, Spencer’s stomach let out a quiet rumbling noise. “Yeah, I like the idea of pancakes right now. Especially if you’re making them.”

“Yeah,” you replied with a smile. “Let’s hurry up and finish shopping so we can go eat.”

#flufftober2024 #flufftober #criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x gn!reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #fanficion #mod angel

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bumblesimagines · 26 days ago

Text

A Burning Hill

Request: Yes or No

Summary: Years after losing his family, former revolutionary gets the surprise of his life.

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

CW/TW: Typical Arcane warnings, angst and death, lots of grieving, implied depression, silco when i catch you silco, child death (mylo, clogger)

divider by the-voice-beckons-below

~~~

(Y/N) felt like a ghost on most days. He floated through the filthy streets of Zaun, ignorant to the buzzing and life around him whilst he walked from street to street until he reached his desolate home by the murky, polluted river. He preferred it, no matter how isolated from the rest of the city. It was home. Old, dull, and free from the tormenting memories the rest of the city held. Life passed him by steadily enough to keep everything at bay, anyway.

The once-vibrant neon signs around the city buildings looked dull when he glanced at the blinking lights. Everything looked dull, washed of its original color, and rendered lifeless in his eyes. There was nothing pretty about Zaun anymore, nothing worth truly fighting for.

It didn't matter how many times Ekko visited him, all the speeches and pep talks he stubbornly gave while (Y/N) watched him only ever seeing the little boy he'd been and not the leader he'd grown into. He'd been like him once.. a long, long time ago.

"(Y/N)!" A gravelly voice called out from one of the stands lined along the rain-slicked cobble street. Mod raised a hand in greeting and then lifted a wooden bowl, the contents inside swishing and nearly dripping off the sides. He wiggled it enticingly and arched one bushy brow while a coaxing grin spread across his face.

Somewhat reluctantly, (Y/N) approached the stand and pushed the hood of his old cloak back as he took a seat on one of the stools. Mod set the bowl before him and stuck a spoon in the fish soup. His reflection blinked slowly back at him, the bags under his eyes noticeable even in the cerulean broth. "Thanks." He muttered, his voice scratchy.

"Anythin' for you, boss." Mod chuckled heartily, thick fingers scratching at his patchy brown beard before he leaned his broad frame against the counter. There was a twinkle in his eyes, bright and mischievous. "Say, boss-"

"I'm not your boss." (Y/N) shoved a spoonful of broth with a chunk of fish into his mouth.

Mod nodded solemnly. "'Course, 'course... I was talkin' to my pal the other day. You remember Divo, right? Well, he and his old lady finally called it quits, and I hear he's got his eye on you-"

(Y/N)'s eyes darted up to meet Mod's hazel ones, his grip on the spoon tightening faintly. Not a single muscle in his face moved, yet Mod clamped his mouth shut instantly and turned his back to him to continue tending the stove with a nervous chuckle. (Y/N) chewed slowly on the fish, letting the flavor dance on his tongue and then swallowing.

He lifted the bowl and slurped as much of the broth as he could into his mouth before letting the bowl fall onto the counter with a clatter and wiping the leftover droplets from his mouth. He slapped a few coins on the table and slid off the stool to continue his way through the crowd, turning a deaf ear to Mod's calls for him.

Zaun was as alive as always. Kids were running about, most of them either fleeing from someone or rushing to catch up with their friends. His heart always clenched when he looked at them, when there was a straggler who couldn't keep up with the older kids.

His eyes always naturally gravitated toward them to watch, despite the stabbing feeling that pierced his gut each time. There was a reason he kept himself unfocused from the goings of the city; everything was a goddamn reminder.

Ducking into an alleyway and dodging the rat that skittered across his path, he began making his way down the usual route to his place. He withheld a sigh when he stepped in a puddle and briefly stopped to shake the droplets from his drenched boot.

He only took a couple more steps before his ears picked up the splash of the puddle, and his mind jerked awake with newfound alertness. He bit his cheek, cursing whatever gods were watching over Zaun. The last thing he wanted was dealing with some stupid thief or wannabe thug trying to earn street cred.

Once their footsteps grew closer, he swiftly spun around and grabbed the front of their shift, a yelp escaping the person when he slammed them into the nearest wall. His grip on their collar tightened until the breath was roughly sucked free from his lungs, every muscle in his body tensing.

He stared at the girl in his grasp, taking in the stunned look in her familiar light gray eyes and the short spiky magenta hair he knew so well. Her face was straight from his memories, only with sharper features, older features. His forehead creased in confusion, and he released her to take a startled step away from her.

"Violet?" He exhaled a name he hadn't spoken in years, his chest stuttering with a shaky inhale.

His eyes flickered all over her face, lingering on the scars and the VI tattoo on her right cheek. No, Violet... His Violet was dead, just like Mylo and Clogger.. like Vander. He sucked another breath, his heart picking up into a pace that made it difficult to breathe.

Violet stared back at him, her features softening until she looked like the fourteen-year-old girl that haunted his dreams, the little girl he lost along with his boys and husband. Her face contorted rapidly, scrunching up with her quivering lips as her eyes flooded with tears.

She gasped for air, one tear managing to escape before she fell into his arms with a sob, an act she'd done a million times before. His arms instinctively wrapped around her and pulled her tight to his chest, his own eyes beginning to sting with tears.

"Dad," She wept into his shoulder, her hands desperately clawing at his back until they bunched up his cloak into her fists. His hold tightened around her until he was cradling her as close as possible. He couldn't bear to consider if it was just another dream where she'd be violently ripped away from him all over again. "I'm so sorry."

"What the fuck."

His heart was thrumming like hell in his ears, his eyes wildly flickering over the burning warehouse by the river that looked like it'd been destroyed by some sort of explosion. He searched for anything, any noise or sign that someone, anyone, was alive and in need of help.

He searched for Vander, half-expecting him to stumble out of the ruins, but as he grew closer, with Ekko's hand tightly clutched in his, he spotted something that made his heart drop to his feet.

"No.." He exhaled and dropped Ekko's hand to rush forward, past the debris and flames, toward the corpse lying on the ground.

His knees groaned when he collapsed onto them, but the pain barely registered in his frantic mind. Lying there, battered and lifeless, was Vander's body. It was mutated, parts of him enlarged unnaturally with prominent black veins and sickening bruises scattered across his body.

His grey eyes, the ones that always lit up at the sight of him, were pale and lifeless, blankly staring up at the night sky above them. His trembling hands took his cheeks, a sob tearing from his throat when Vander's head lolled to the side.

"Van, c'mon, don't- don't do this, please." He couldn't breathe. Teardrops dripped and rolled off Vander's cheek, mixing with the splatters of blood and grime. His hands moved to his shoulders, and he shook him lightly, willing him to come back by some miracle. "Vander, hey, baby... c'mon. Come back to me, please. You- You can't leave me. You made an oath, Vander. You made an- an oath. You made a fucking oath."

His fingers dug into Vander's skin, once warm but now growing cold with the night air. (Y/N) held his cheeks in his palms, praying to whatever deity came to mind to bring his husband back to him, but Vander's lifeless eyes remained half-lidded and his chest remained still.

(Y/N) grinded his teeth together, his vision blurring until the hot tears tumbled down his cheeks, and he collapsed over Vander's corpse, half-sobbing half-screaming until his voice grew hoarse.

"Please, please, don't do this to me..." He whimpered, helplessly reaching for Vander's limp arm and raising it to press his large, collaoused palm over his cheek.

The cool metal of his wedding band pressed into (Y/N)'s skin, burning like a hot iron. Their wedding day flashed clear before his eyes: the party at the Last Drop, the stupidly sugary sweet vows Vander spoke into the microphone that had him unable to make eye contact, the dancing and festivities that kept the bar alive with a happiness they hadn't experienced in ages, little Violet and baby Powder giggling along the whole night with their mother and father.

He looked down at him through blurry, unfocused vision, the heaves and sobs wrecking through his body until it grew sore. This wasn't how they were supposed to part. It wasn't. They were supposed to grow old and frail and gray.

"(Y/N).." Ekko's soft, trembling voice reached his ears. "I... I found this."

Sniffling, (Y/N) lifted his head and turned toward the little boy, a strangled noise emitting from his throat at the sight of Clogger's goggles in his hands, shattered and bloodied. He reached a shaking hand out to gingerly grab them, his thumb rubbing over the glass until his skin caught on the broken glass.

Clogger, Mylo... his boys. His sweet, troublemaking boys. He surveyed the mess around them in search of his missing daughters, but there was no sign of them. His eyes dropped back to his husband.

He'd never be able to listen to one of Mylo's rambly vents again or tend to his injuries while he huffed and puffed. He'd never be able to fix up Clogger's goggles when they broke for the tenth time or share an eye roll over someone's childish antics again. He'd never get to curl up in Vander's arms at night and listen to his rumbling laugh while he recounted his day or feel his lips brush over his ear while he muttered corny love confessions that always made him flush and roll his eyes.

"Who..." His jaw clenched. "Who did this?"

Ekko wiped his runny nose and swallowed, his big, watery eyes narrowing. "Silco."

Silco.

Always. Fucking. Silco.

He stumbled onto his feet in an instant, the bottom of his boots slapping against the stone as he took off down the path leading back into the city. The buildings, markets, and nightlife passed him by in a blur of gray and neon as he ventured further and further toward the inner parts of the Lanes where he knew, he just knew, Silco would be. Other Zaunites leaped out of the way, with those who were too slow being shoved aside until the Last Drop came into view. His home, his sanctuary, and there were already lackeys shuffling in and out of the bar.

He was heaving by the time he swung the bar doors open, his steps slightly staggered as he entered the familiar bar. Some of their regulars were already arguing with Silco's men; Sevika sat at one of the booths with a pained expression as someone hurriedly tended to her shoulder where her arm was simply gone; those injured from the warehouse soothed themselves with alcohol bought from Vander's hard-earned money.

He almost laughed at the absurdity of it all.

(Y/N) shoved Clogger's goggles into his pocket, ignoring the pain in his hand from where glass shards embedded themselves into his palm. He took in a staggering breath. "Where... the fuck is Silco?"

Wide eyes turned in his direction. The regulars frowned sympathetically, and their heckles raised on his behalf, while the lackeys that blindly followed Silco exchanged panicked or hesitant glances. He scanned the bar, but no one uttered a word, leaving the air with a suffocating tension.

One of the younger lackeys glanced up toward the office, the office he used to plan out his ideas, and then shrunk back into his seat when he caught (Y/N) staring daggers at him. Another lackey had the bright idea to step in front of him, his chest puffed out with smug arrogance over their 'victory'.

His husband was dead. Murdered brutally alongside the orphaned children they took in when everyone else turned their backs on them. The only feeling (Y/N) that knew better than grief was pure, unbridled rage. He'd locked the rage away years ago, worked on it until it was tamed for the sake of his children, who'd grown up seeing too much violence on the streets to see it from their protector. It brewed in his stomach relentlessly now, simmering and growing until it made his body run hot.

The young man only had a second to react, a second for surprise to flash over his face, before (Y/N) twisted his dark hair in his fist and slammed his head into the nearest table. He dug the heel of his hand into the man's temple, and with his move, the tension broke, and people lunged at each other. (Y/N) released the stranger, watching him slump onto the floor and clutch his no doubt throbbing head, before he walked around him and bounded up the metal stairs leading up to his office.

There were thuds, crashes, glass shattering, and shouting behind him, but he was only focused on the wooden door growing closer. Silco stood inside his office in the bar his husband owned after slaughtering his family. Silco turned toward him when the floorboards creaked underneath his weight, his mismatched eyes widening before (Y/N)'s fist connected with his cheek.

Silco stumbled backward, his hip bumping into the desk covered in the papers he used for designing mechanisms and technology. He grabbed onto the desk, half-way hunched over as blood dripped down from his nose and onto his vest.

"Felicia wasn't enough for you, was she?" (Y/N) spat out through gritted teeth, drawing Silco's eyes back to his face. They remained widened for a long second and then flickered away to the framed picture hanging on the wall of them back before her death, back before the brotherly bond between Vander and Silco dissolved. "Your ambition took my sister, my brother-in-law, but you couldn't stop there, could you? You just had to take my husband and children, too."

Silco brushed his fingers over the streak of blood coating his upper lip and straightened up, palm brushing back the dark strands that fell over his face from the hit. "I never intended for Felicia and Connol to get hurt." He said grimly, curling his hands around the hem of his vest to adjust it properly over his body. "The children weren't supposed to be there. The boys... Violet. They were... collateral damage."

(Y/N) stared at him, aghast, his fingers curling into fists once more despite the sharp pain in his hands. "Vander and I loved you once." He gritted his teeth, tears tittering on the edge of his vision.

There were faint memories of them in that very office, hunched over the desk while dreaming up what Zaun would look like without Piltover's boot on their necks. Memories of them chatting in a corner of the Last Drop until Silco practically shoved him into Vander's arms so they could dance with Felicia. Silco blinked at him in startlement.

"I thought.. You were the cleverest man in Zaun, that you'd be the one to help us make Zaun better than Piltover. But you're just a filthy, weak little fucking rat."

(Y/N) barely registered how quickly he closed the distance until his hand fisted the collar of Silco's shirt and shoved him onto the floor. He followed him down, his knees pinning Silco's shoulders down against the floorboards as he tugged his knife free from its holster around his waist. Silco's eyes widened again, his hands clutching and shoving against (Y/N)'s legs.

"If Felicia saw you-" Silco gasped out. "-what would she say?"

"She'd hate you for what you did to her daughters, you piece of shit!"

Heavy footsteps quickly grew near, and a bulky arm swooped around his waist to haul him off Silco. "(Y/N), enough-" Sevika hissed in his ear, a strained, pained groan filling his ear as she staggered, weakened from the blow that'd taken her arm.

His legs kicked out toward the desk, and he used it to propel himself back into her, the weight and force forcing her to stumble back until she slammed into the wall. She released him with a cry and clutched at her shoulder with heavy breaths.

He caught himself before he fell, his hand still clutching the knife like a vice when he turned to face Silco. The thin man scrambled to get to his feet again, but (Y/N) swiftly kicked him back down, his movements growing sluggish from exhaustion. He slumped back onto the floor, one knee pinning Silco's forearm and soaking in the wince. He was tired, too. Bastard.

"Vander... Vander thought you were redeemable, even after what you did to Felicia and Connol. He wanted to talk, to make amends, and you slaughtered him like a pig, you-" (Y/N) inhaled sharply, frantically blinking away the tears building in his eyes. Silco froze at his words, stiffening fully underneath him and staring up at him with big eyes. (Y/N) scoffed, disgusted just by looking at his shock. "It should've been your body lying there, forgotten and alone."

(Y/N) raised the blade yet hesitated, his quivering lips pressing together tightly as his eyes flickered between Silco's eyes. The blue-green of his right that'd once been warm and gentle made his stomach churn violently.

For a moment, he found himself staring down at the Silco he used to know, the soft-spoken yet sarcastic young man who'd sit with him while he sketched and offer pointers with a small, tender smile. (Y/N) squeezed his eyes shut and brought the knife down, listening to it embed itself in the floorboard. Silco released a quiet, shaky breath.

Swallowing harshly, (Y/N) opened his eyes to glare down at him. "Where's Powder?"

"My baby girl," (Y/N) carefully cradled her face in his hands, stroking his thumb over her pale skin as a manic laugh fell from his lips. She was real. "They told me you were dead. I-I thought you died with Mylo and Clogger that night. I should've- I should've looked harder. Where- Where have you been?"

Violet wrapped her bandaged hands around his wrists and nuzzled her face into his palms, her shoulders lightly trembling as she took in a staggered breath. "Stillwater." She whispered, her teeth gently biting at her bottom lip as her eyes flickered away with a wince. "That Piltover officer.. the one that worked with Grayson, he.. he took me there. Kept me there this whole time." Her jaw clenched.

(Y/N) bit his tongue and took in a slow inhale, his eyes closing briefly. Marcus. He'd always hated the asshole, even more so after his promotion. "How- How'd you get out?" He blinked his eyes open, his brows knitting together in bewilderment. "Did- Did you escape?"

Stillwater was notorious for keeping a tight hold on its prisoners, and even if one managed to escape, the treacherous waters surrounding the small island would kill anyone who tried fleeing via swimming or boat. Violet had always been resilient, but even she couldn't have possibly escaped alone.

"No, I-"

"Violet! You have got to stop disappearing like that!"

At the end of the alleyway, a young woman stumbled toward them, her fingers tugging the hood back over her head when it slipped after her clumsy attempt at wriggling free from the crowd. She kept her gaze pointed toward the crowd before she turned to look at them, her lips parting to speak, but she quickly closed them when she noticed him. She froze, stiff like a plank, and then slowly raised her hand to give an awkward wave.

"Dad," Violet began, her lips twisting into a sheepish, hesitant smile. He frowned. Nothing good ever came out of a smile like that. "This is Caitlyn Kirraman."

"Kiramman?"/ "Dad?!"

(Y/N)'s head turned back to the dark blue haired-girl with a squinted gaze that only made her stiffen again. He raked his eyes over her slender figure, taking note of the clothes beneath the draps hanging onto her shoulders.

Her skin was too clear, too perfect. Her hair was too sleek and shiny. Her clothes were prim and delicate, not a hole or tear or washed-out color on a single article. Her hands looked smooth, free of callouses. Her body flinched with each loud noise that came from the night market, like a mouse in a den of vipers. Topsider, and given the weapon strapped to her back, she was an Enforcer.

He snapped his attention back to Violet and tore his hands from her face to set them over his hips disapprovingly. Violet's sheepish look grew, and she dropped her eyes onto the ground, where she lightly kicked a pebble aside. "You're with a Enforcer?! Violet! You just told me you were at Stillwater- I- Ugh." (Y/N) pinched the bridge of his nose. "What am I going to do with you, Vi?"

"Love me?" Violet proposed with a little, cheeky smile.

(Y/N)'s shoulders sagged, a huff of amusement slipping past his lips before he tugged her into another tight embrace. "I missed your smartass comments, you little asshole." Violet's laugh sounded muffled against his shoulder, her arms sliding around his waist in an equally tight hug. "I always knew you'd be hard to get rid of.. like dog shit that gets stuck on the bottom of shoes." Violet laughed again, this time lightly pushing at his chest and rolling her eyes.

"Ahem," Caitlyn shuffled forward toward them, her eyes jumping between their faces before she focused on him and stuck her hand out for him to shake with a polite yet strained smile. "As Vi said, I'm Caitlyn Kiramman. I helped your daughter get out of Stillwater Prison this morning."

(Y/N) eyed her outstretched hand. "Why?"

"I.." Caitlyn trailed off, her fingers curling inward before she dropped her hand back to her side. "I need her help.. and yours, I suppose. There is an... ongoing investigation regarding stolen shipments that I have reason to believe have been orchestrated by the man you all know as Silco. If I gather enough evidence, we may be able to put him behind bars for once and for all." She firmly nodded.

(Y/N)'s mouth drew into a taut line, his front teeth dragging along each other. He could still hear his own sobs echoing in his ears, the hoarse screams into his pillow the following weeks after the warehouse incident. He was so tired. He stared down at the stone ground beneath them, watching the water covering it reflect the neon signs lining the tops of the buildings above them.

His head shook lightly. "Don't bother."

"Dad, c'mon... You still have power here. People still respect you; some still fear you." Violet placed her hand over his shoulder, her fingers gently squeezing it. "If you rallied the people-"

"Your father was the leader, Violet. I was the follower, the one who took orders, the one who had to be patched up constantly. Everything and everyone I fought for is.. is gone. I have nothing left in me, Vi, I don't. All I do is wait for the day I can reunite with Van and be done with all this."

The corners of Violet's brows angled upward. "You- You have me. I'm here, Dad. I'm- I'm back... and Powder.. she's still here, right? She's okay, right? Tell me she's okay, please."

"It's complicated, Vi. She.. She's alive." The relieved, breathy laugh that escaped Violet made him wince. He raised his gaze off the ground to look at her, the pained frown on his lips wiping the relief clean from her face. "I see her, sometimes. She pops by when she feels like it. Sometimes, we'll bump into each other and talk. She... she hasn't gone by Powder in a long time. Powpow doesn't exist anymore, Vi. She's one of Silco's lackeys now."

"What?"

"I've tried getting through to her for ages, even Ekko's given it a go, but she's stubborn. She's not well, Vi.. and Silco- Silco refuses to see it. I've told him time and time again but-" (Y/N) rubbed his fingertips over his forehead, soothing away a building headache. Their countless arguments rang clear in his ears. It was like talking to a wall on most days. "Our talks never go anywhere. I hate him too much, and he knows it. Uses it as a reason not to believe me. It's hopeless, Vi."

"No... No, no, I don't-" Violet turned away from him, one hand raising to clutch her chest while the other braced against the wall. "I-I don't believe that. She- She'd never work for him, not after what he did. You're wrong. I can help her, I swear. I-I can get through to her. I can prove it."

"It's not that simple, Vi."

"I'm her big sister." Violet's hands curled into fists, and her head raised to look at him, the determination in her eyes startlingly similar to Vander's. It made his throat tighten. "She's my responsibility."

"You're my girls, Vi. You two will always be my responsibility... but things are different. If I push too hard, I risk losing her forever." He stepped toward her, reaching out to delicately touch her chin and remind himself she really was alive. Alive and no longer the little girl he'd taken care of since she was a newborn. "If you go running after her and Silco finds out, who knows what he'll do. I can't lose you again."

"I'm not a kid anymore, Dad. I can take care of myself." A tender smile spread on Violet's face, her hand enveloping his reassuringly. "I'll bring Powder back, and we'll be a family again, I promise."

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yandere-romanticaa · 1 year ago

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The deep corners of the sea harbor many secrets. Be it countless lives which were claimed by the tides, ancient tales of a bygone era, or perhaps something even darker, something so great that the feeble human mind could not even think of comprehending.

The murky waters hid many things indeed. But for the Duke, his little secret was not so ancient, something not so important in the ultimate grand scheme of things.

It only mattered to him and only him.

He gazes fondly at his secret as he sips tea in the cafeteria, taking a break in a highly conspicuous area simply because he was the Duke and he could do as he wished.

He could have you at any moment he desired. The sentence was prolonged for absolutely no reason and searching for one was pointless. The Duke has his reasons, the staff would say. Run along now and go back to your duties. If you keep slacking off you'll starve.

Wriothesley liked to play favorites when it came to you.

That became evident to some of the staff very fast.

He had it arranged that your meals be of, at the very least, decent quality. No mystery meat for you or any rotten vegetables. If you consumed any of that your health would be in jeopardy. He could always just give you a proper meal or maybe even a downright good one but that would arise too much suspicion from the inmates and he was not in the mood to hear them complain. One day, the chef decided to be bold and serve you a wretched meal on purpose, just to test his hypothesis.

As expected, Wriothesley gave him an earful even if he never actually said anything about you. His bias was still evident and nothing could hide that.

Wriothesley liked to consider himself as an honest and a frank man. Like all people he had his secrets and his own cross to carry but if he could he wanted things to be done right in the open. No mysteries, no hesitance. If you were not a prisoner in the Fortress, Wriothesley would already have you on his arm. He was also aware of his imposing presence, the last thing he wanted to do was to scare you off. The power imbalance was simply too large between the two of you.

Therefore, like the predator that he was, he bid his time. He locked away his rawest feelings deep in his heart and hid the key, never wanting to throw it away.

He wanted you to come to him. He wanted you to seek him out.

Oh, to be loved, to be wanted by another human being. What a foreign yet pleasant thought. Wriothesley knew you did not see him in that light but damn it all if he does not try. All of the cards are in his hands and he has dealt you yours. The only option left is for you to play straight into his hand.

The thought of sharing a cup of tea with you made his heart soar. Patience was indeed a virtue. And fortunately for him, the Fortress of Meropide had taught him that skill a long time ago.

🖤 TAGS: @genshinarchives, @mod-kisa-blog, @juuuuuj101010, @kalopses-sonderes, @b10h4z4rd, @xiaopleasecomehome, @mayulli, @saturnalya, @alatusprinz, @lakxcpsta, @mewmeowmika, @ranposgirlboss, @ficsreblogs, @goldenglow149

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yancore #yandere x you #yanderecore #yandere aesthetic #genshin impact #wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley x you #wriothesley x y/n #yandere wriothesley #genshin impact x reader #genshin #genshin x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin imagines

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psychicthepsychic-daily · 2 years ago

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I do not have twitter and I refuse to sacrifice my honor so it's only because I saved the link way earlier that I have this comment of river's where she brings up the possibility of a friendship between Psychic and Solazar.

the text below is ripped straight from a discussion with the creator of daily void about Psychic and Void's relationship portrayed by the fandom

what I'm trying to say is, what if I wrote a probably very OOC semi crackfic where Psychic and Sol team up to take over the world?

#obviously sol and psi would never get along unless they both went through some major life changing mindset altering kinda character growth #but it would be funny #also it'd probably take me forever to get this out but i'm actually kinda tempted lol #mod light #ramble thing

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h8aaz · 27 days ago

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𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆 . . .

sensitive slasher — ❝ DEMONKNIFE .ᐟ READER ❞

⛤ meet dem . . . she was given to sam winchester by ruby—indirectly shifting her love from one to the other. she was turned into a human by a witch after being flung towards her during the aftermath of an attack. she's the sweetest girl sam has ever met, and she's absolutely devoted to him. she came out sensitive, and remains that way. although, she does have tougher skin now (quite literally, that girl can handle anything).

scowl or sob ! . . . dem was shaking and crying profusely when she realized she wasn't a knife anymore, confusion rippling through her like a tidal wave. she cried into the leather seats of the impala all the way back to the motel, pulling her face off with a rough rip sound before holding onto sam tightly, his jacket covering her naked form. although she's a major crier, she's got a mean bite, and she packs a powerlful punch too! she can punch straight through a demon's vessel, flashing lights still included.

blood bath, baby ! . . . she's vicious when she's angry, especially towards demons. she was made to kill them so of course her hatred runs deep! she'll be covered in blood completely, the messy, red liquid sticking to her skin and clothing, but she'll have the most innocent glim in her eyes and a soft spoken voice when she asks sam, "did i do good?"

body mods ! . . . the inscriptions from her original form carried over to her human one, only now being engraved along her spine. sam loves running his fingers against the scarred skin, dipping into the indentations any chance he can. she also has faded, nearly birthmark-like handprints painted into the skin of her legs, sizes varying from her past owners. sam likes to place his hands onto his own prints on her, a hand always on her thigh where his big hand is forever imprinted on her.

FOLLOW DEM'S BLOODY FOOTPRINTS !

⛤ facts!

more coming soon . . .

GABS YAPS .ᐟ . . . HI I MADE A NEW READER LMFAOOOO. i haven't even posted yet alone FINISH the first part of sweetgirl!reader but let's not focus on that rn, yeah? IM SO EXCITED FOR THIS READER!! handprints concept is from the loml @sunsbaby's gun!reader so go check her out rn bc i said so!!

she's inspired by @daylighted's baby!reader, where baby the car gets turned into baby the girl. i absolutely love their series for her and it got me thinking about ruby's knife + the angel blade— which i have posted here!!

layout inspo from @titsout4jackles !!

special tags: @sunsbaby @starzify @soldiersgirl @bejeweledinterludes @littlesoulshine @deansbeer @titsout4jackles @daylighted @bluemerakis @j2archives @legalmente-loca @immodestly-marina

dividers were made by me!!

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crispsandkerosene · 4 months ago

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Extended SimStandardMaterial Shader for the Sims 2 + Optionally Brighter Sims

A Shader Edit/Default Replacement

A few months ago, I shared an edit of the "StandardMaterial" shader adding a few new features. Here are the same parameters ported to "SimStandardMaterial", the shader used by CaS items that don't involve the skin texture. For example, accessories, hair, and additional groups on clothing. The new parameters are: - An "additive" texture map, lighting up specific areas of the material. - An envCube mask, controlling the intensity of this effect via a texture. - Three new envCube modes: + "Blend" replaces the base texture by the envCube's. + "Multiply" multiplies them together (duh). + "DiffuseRadiance", which I also ported from the StandardMaterial. All three of them support the envCube mask and the envCubeCoef parameter. The envCube modes are mutually exclusive, but all effects can otherwise be used with each other. The download itself contains the shader package, a pdf ReadMe listing features and material parameters, and examples showcased on Maxis meshes (including those from the header). The readme lists the specific shader file I've edited. You can use this along my StandardShaderEdit, or by itself. I don't know of any potentially incompatible mods. As usual, do report if you find one. (Also, sorry for all the copy pasting in this post and the readme.)

-> Download Everything (but BrighterSims) at SimFileShare

Update: Brighter Sims

A version of the same mod where the light received by Sims is remapped, making them look brighter and flatter. They can only get about half as dark as their vanilla look. The effect is especially noticeable at night, which admittedly isn't optimal. Unlike the added parameters, it'll affect most existing Sims and Pet stuff. Its version of the readme includes an additional page explaining how to edit it, and set different values per material. (This came about when someone asked if the game's lighting could be flattened/made more diffuse. I got curious and ended up tinkering with what was doable via the pixel shader. The existing per-vertex light calculations remain untouched, I just added an additional step on top. Not sure how "aesthetically useful" it'll be to most players :p)

-> Download Everything (BrighterSims included) at SimFileShare

#ts2 #sims 2 #s2cc #the sims 2 #download #shader #default replacement

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pedroshotwifey · 1 year ago

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Beg For It

Pairing: Virgin!Din Djarin x afab!reader

Word count: 3.9k

Tags/warnings: piv sex, oral (m), cock worship, virgin din, premature ejaculation, teasing, humiliation, sub din, dom reader, degradation, cockpit sex™, embarrassment, age gap (younger reader), din djarin's monster cock, helmet stays on, pet names, snarky reader, experienced reader, stuff I'm forgetting (c'mon guys, it's me.)

Summary: You make a shocking discovery about Din and decide to do something about it.

A/N: Hey babes! Sorry if you're waiting on TTF or FB rn, but my brain does not want to cooperate atm. TTF 4 should be out relatively soon, but I'm not sure about FB. I hope you like this fic, bc I have no idea where it came from 🤣 My asks are always open in the meantime!!

***

“Fuck, it’s tight in here,” you complain as you stuff yourself into the small alcove exposed by the panel that was just removed from the Crest’s wall.

“And a fucking mess. Do you ever organize this shit, Din?”

The exasperated sigh that comes from behind you is enough to answer your question.

You roll your eyes as you reach for the tangled ball of wires in front of you. No wonder the lights have been flickering. You’re lucky it wasn’t anything worse than that.

“Who would even be doing this shit if you didn’t have me? Not like your broad ass could fit in here.”

Mando scoffs behind you.

“We got along perfectly fine before you,” he argues. “Grogu could fit in there, I’d have him do it.”

Now it’s your turn to laugh.

“Yeah, that would go over well.”

Din ignores your quip as he comes up to your side and nudges you with his boot.

“Hey! Can you not?” You turn your head to bite out at him even though he can’t see you.

“Scootch over,” he demands. “I need to see what you’re doing so you don’t blow the ship up or something.”

“Wow, it’s really reassuring to know how much faith you have in me, Mando.”

You swear you hear him bite down on a laugh and you smile despite yourself. You squash yourself to the side as much as you can, allowing a small gap so Din can peek in beside you. He groans as he lowers himself to his belly.

“Poor old man,” you can’t help but tease. “Bad knees getting to you?”

“Shut up,” Din quips.

You don’t actually know how old Din is, but you’re placing your bets on late thirties or early forties. Definitely older than you either way, but not quite old enough to be deserving of your quips. That’s not going to stop you, of course.

By the time he’s looking inside, you’ve untangled the mess of wires and separated the two that need to be switched.

“Damn it, Mando, you’re blocking my light. I can’t see shit.”

He sighs for the umpteenth time today.

“Really? There’s plenty of light,” he argues.

“Yeah, maybe when you have a fucking night vision mod in your helmet. Get up and tell me what to do from there.”

He obeys but you swear you hear him mutter something about being bossy through a groan.

“What have you done so far?”

“I’ve separated the red and blue wires from the rest.”

“Okay, go ahead and pull them both from their outlets.”

You try to pull them off, but you can’t quite reach the outlets on the back wall.

“Damn it,” you mutter.

You shove your knees under yourself and arch your back in attempt to push yourself further into the wall. Straining a bit, you’re able to grasp both ends and successfully tug them towards yourself.

“Got it, what now?”

“Put the red wire where the blue wire was, and the blue where the red was,” Mando instructs. His voice sounds much raspier than it had a second ago, making you quirk a brow.

“You okay there?” you ask as you finish the task.

“Yup,” he croaks.

“Okay, I’m coming out.”

You start to wriggle yourself back, and you hear Din make a strangled sound before biting down on it. It’s not until you feel your ass waggling with your movement that you realize what has him so worked up. A sly smirk quickly spreads across your face as you decide there’s no harm in teasing him a bit.

You groan and arch your back further as you back out, your ass up in the air as much as you can get it. You take your sweet time sitting up once you're out, and you can almost feel the heat coming from Mando by the time you do. You turn around to face him only to find that he’s avoiding your gaze, his hands clasped together casually in front of his crotch. You honestly wonder who he thinks he’s fooling—there’s not much that could hide a tent that size.

“What’s the matter, big boy?” you ask sweetly. “You look a bit flustered.”

“N-nothing.”

You have to physically bite down on your lip to avoid laughing at his voice crack. You’ve never heard him struggle so much. He clears his throat and tries again.

“Nothing’s wrong, cyar’ika.”

“Hm. You sure? Because I’m pretty sure you were checking my ass out a second ago.”

Din chokes on nothing as soon as the words are out of your mouth.

“I was not!” He bites out in a panicked tone.

“Nothing wrong with it, I get it. I’d check out my ass, too,” you laugh and shrug. He looks down at his feet and your brows furrow. This might be the most flustered you’ve ever seen him.

“Dude, it was just an ass, not a big deal. I’m sure you’ve seen much more than that,” you chuckle lightly.

He slowly looks up at that, and time comes to a stop as things click into place in your head.

“Holy shit,” you say, bewildered. “You haven’t seen more than that. You’re a virgin aren’t you?”

You grin when he says nothing in response. No fucking way the Mandalorian hasn’t fucked or been fucked before. Hell, you’ve wanted to fuck him since you came aboard this junk pile of a ship. Damn, you’re going to take this opportunity and fucking run with it.

“Poor baby Din, never had pussy before,” you coo at him as you stand all the way up. “What’s the matter? Is it too small? Maybe you don’t even like pussy. You want a big strong man to fuck your ass?” You know you’re just spouting anything you think might get under his skin at this point.

“N-no,” he bites out, though there’s not much conviction behind it. You continue walking towards him, forcing him toward the cockpit’s pilot seat.

“No? You don’t like cock, Din?”

“I think you need some help, big guy. You clearly need someone to dominate you, since you don’t have the balls to step up yourself. You’re lucky I’m here, I can show you how good it can be.”

Din’s hands move closer to his clothed cock to hide the twitch that ensues from your words. You see the movement and it only spurs you on. He gulps again as you keep walking toward him.

“No, I-”

“Take a seat, Mando.”

He crosses his arms and stands up straighter, leveling you with a defiant stare you can practically feel through his beskar helmet.

“I will do no such thing.”

“Oh,” you reply, crossing your arms and returning the look. “But you will.”

You glance down at the impressive bulge in his flight suit, smirking when you catch him shift ever so slightly under the weight of your gaze.

“I think you want to sit down for me, Mando. And I think you’re going to be begging for my cunt by the time I’m done with you.”

You take a step toward him, and you can see the subtle way he stops himself from taking a step back in response. You stop in front of him and let your hand down to graze his covered length. There’s a sharp intake of breath barely heard throughout the hull. If you had been standing where you were a few seconds ago, you would have missed it.

“Sounds like you already want to, actually.”

You cup him fully now, and a strangled sound slips through his tightly sealed lips.

“Poor little virgin Din, doesn’t even know how good he could have been feeling all this time,” you tease, giving him a light squeeze.

“S-stop,” he grits out, uncrossing his arms to grab your wrist with one hand. Your movements come to a swift stop.

“Ask me again, and I will,” you tell him. “But I don’t think you really want that, do you? I think you want to stick your dick inside my warm pussy and come your dumb little brains out.”

There’s a brief silence as you stare each other down, and you can almost feel the way he starts to consider his options.

“I-”

You give him another squeeze, tighter this time, and his hips buck forward as another animalistic sound tumbles from his tongue.

“Fuck, please,” Din whines as he gives up trying to hold back. You grin wildly at the sound.

“Please, what, Din? What do you want?”

“P-please fuck me!”

Your hand flattens against him and starts to rub sensually up and down, giving him enough friction to have him shivering with each pass.

“Okay, baby. Sit down like I told you to, and I’ll take care of you.”

He nods as you start to lead him backwards, the back of his knees hitting the cockpit chair and forcing him to follow your instructions.

“What a good boy,” you lean forward to coo at the side of his helmet, right where his ear would be. “Why don’t you take your cock out for me?”

You push yourself away from him, your hands placed on either arm rest as you lean over him. Din hesitates for a moment, clearly not used to the kind of vulnerability you’re asking him to surrender.

“Go ahead, baby. I promise I won’t make fun.” In fact, you know you won’t. Judging by the massive tent in his pants, there is absolutely no way that Din Djarin is anywhere near small. Not that you’ll tell him that, of course.

You stare intently as he gulps and lets his hands trail down to unbuckle his belt and shakily pull his zipper down, revealing his boxers. He waits a beat before pulling himself completely out, and you have to fight to keep your jaw from dropping when he does.

“Holy shit, Djarin,” you gawk. “Well, your dick definitely wasn’t the problem. Scared some people off if anything.” Honestly, it almost scares you. You don’t think your hand could even fully wrap around it if you grabbed it right now.

You look back to his helmet, making what you hope is eye contact. Judging by the way he shifts in the seat, you’re pretty sure you’re spot-on.

“You’re so pretty, Din. It’s a shame nobody’s ever told you.”

“T-thank you,” he breathes, his head turning slightly.

“I want you to put your hands on the armrests while I show you how pretty I think you are.”

He hesitates, obviously still not sure about any of this.

“Go ahead,” you prompt. “Unless you want me to cuff you to the damn chair.”

At this, he quickly obeys your request and lets his hands go to grip the rests. His cock slaps up, hard and leaking against his covered stomach. He twists his neck all the way to the side, avoiding eye contact as much as he can manage. As much as he’s resisting giving in, you can see how his chest heaves with desire. In this case, the lust is simply stronger than the embarrassment.

You quickly bring a hand up to grab at the bottom of his helmet, roughly jerking his head back to look at you.

“You’re going to watch me while I suck your cock. If I see you look away, you’re not going to like what happens after.”

Din shivers and nods, shaken slightly by your authoritative tone.

“Say ‘yes, ma’am’.”

You watch his throat bob as he gulps down his nervousness.

“Yes, ma’am,” he breathes out.

“See, you can be such a good boy when you put your mind to it.”

You slink down to your knees and place your hands on his thick, tense thighs. With your eyes level with his cock, you’re able to watch the way a spurt of precum dribbles down from the tip.

“Look at that, baby. Little dick is drooling already and I haven’t even touched you.”

Din tenses and clenches his hand but makes a point not to look away. Good, at least you know he’s listening. Who knew how easy it is to tame a Mandalorian? A little humiliation and degradation can go a long way.

You lean forward, grabbing hard onto his thighs in reminder to keep his hands where they are as you stick your tongue out to scoop up the precum leaking down his shaft. His hips jut forward, and you swear you hear a quiet whine from his helmet. You can’t help but chuckle lightly.

You decide not to waste your time with little licks, and instead lean forward to take his entire tip into your mouth. Now you definitely hear a whine. You struggle to shove more of him into your mouth and down your throat, his girth making it much more of a task than it needs to be.

You can feel yourself getting wetter just from the thought of how deliciously he would stretch you out in other places. It really is a damn shame he’s kept this absolute monster tucked away for so long.

His fingers twitch at the same time his head slams back into the headrest, though he keeps it angled down so he can keep watching you. You have to swallow a few times to work him all the way down, and by that time you can almost feel the way he’s tightened up to restrain himself.

You take pity on him and pull back, resisting the urge to gag as his weight drags across your throat again. A string of spit connects you to his shiny cock as you smirk up at him.

“Tell me how it feels, sweet boy.”

“F-feels s-so good, c-cyare,” Din squeaks.

“Yeah, you want more?”

He nods furiously and you immediately flick the tip of his swollen cock, earning you a strangled yelp as his hips buck wildly.

“What’s the matter? Finally got your dick wet and suddenly you forget how to speak?”

He begins to shake his head before catching himself and giving you a verbal response.

“N-no–I mean, yes, yes I want more! Please touch me,” he thrusts his hips forward again, though you're not sure if it’s voluntary or not.

“Alright, since you asked so nicely.”

You quickly grasp him and start to pump him furiously, leaning to him again to drool on his tip. The extra lubricant makes your hand glide more smoothly, your pace picking up to the point where you can see his balls drawing up.

You work your mouth in tandem with your fist, worshiping his throbbing cock with open mouthed kisses and gentle nips on the exposed skin. You close your eyes for a second to savor the way he feels between your lips, and the salty flavor that graces your tongue. If you died with Din Djarin’s dick in your mouth, you would die a happy woman.

“C-cyare, I-”

He cuts himself off as you quickly pull yourself away, leaving him with nothing but your cooling spit to focus on.

“No, no, no–ung–I, p-please!”

You laugh at him as he thrusts up, trying to find some kind of friction. His voice sounds wet, almost like there are tears in his eyes.

“Aww,” you stand back to admire his writhing body. “Poor thing can’t remember anything but ‘please’. That’s cute. Not hard to get you dumb, is it, Mando?”

You start to strip in front of him, and his hands come up from the armrests.

“You better not be moving your fucking hands, Din,” you warn. “I know where you keep those damn binders, don’t think I won’t use them.”

He groans but lets his wrists back down. His feet shift instead since there’s nothing else he’s able to move at the moment. He whines again as your top comes off with your bra, and then your pants with your panties.

Fully naked and obviously soaked, you stalk toward him yet again, stopping to place your hand on his shoulder as you climb into his lap, careful not to touch his cock just yet. You settle your thighs over the tops of his and spread your legs.

When you look up at him, he’s staring you back in your eyes, refusing to look down. You smirk once you realize why.

“Don’t get shy on me now, baby boy,” you say. “Go ahead and look at my pussy, I know you want to.”

You watch him slowly lower his gaze and breathe out a curse once it lands on your seam. Leaning forward, you whisper again to the side of his helmet.

“You can move a hand, Din. Spread me open.”

He visibly trembles at your command but lifts an arm none-the-less. You feel his fingers trail gently down to where you want him, but he stops just short.

“T-take my glove off, please. Want to feel you, cyar’ika.”

You smile at him and carefully bring his hand up to pull his glove off, his dick twitching as you do so. You lick your lips as a tanned and scarred hand is revealed. It’s ridiculous how attracted you are to that simple appendage. You wish you could see his entire body, but you know that’s not a likely scenario.

Once his glove is discarded on the floor, he moves back to your cunt and sucks in a harsh breath as he feels you.

“You’re s-so wet,” he says in a way that makes you unsure if he meant to say it out loud or not.

You laugh quietly and guide his hand so that he can prod at your hole, to which he chokes.

“That’s all because of you, sweet boy.”

You move your hips forward, and his fingers slip through your seam, your slick collecting on the rough pads. You grasp his wrist to bring his hand to your lips, opening your mouth to suck your tang of the digits at the same time as you let your pussy push against the underside of Din’s cock.

Another animalistic noise accompanies the way his entire body jolts at the sudden contact. With a pop, you pull his fingers from your mouth to make room for the giggle that bubbles up from your throat.

“Poor baby’s so sensitive!” you exclaim as you grind against him, making him groan with each pass. Both of his hands grip down hard, one on the rest and the other on your thigh. The man has a fucking grip, you’re sure there will be five little bruises littered across your skin tomorrow. You wonder how good that grip would feel on your hips as he drills himself into you from the back, and file that thought back for another day.

You shudder as his tip bumps up against your clit, sending little shocks up your spine and making you dizzy.

“Gonna fuck you now, baby boy,” you breathe. “You want that? Want to stick your cock inside me?”

“I-ungh-yes, yes!”

“Yeah?” you ask as you keep up your movements. “Beg for it.”

“P-please,” Din asks a bit too quietly for your liking. You would bet all the credits you won that he’s blushing under that armor right now.

“Oh, come on now, you can do better than that.”

There’s a short moment where you think Din isn’t going to do it, and a lump of disappointment gets stuck in your throat. Luckily, he doesn’t make you sit with it for too long.

“Please, please put my d-dick in your pussy, want to feel you, please! I-I can’t–I want–”

In the middle of his babbling, you lift yourself up and line his cock with your entrance, slowly lowering yourself down. His hands fly to your hips at the same time his thoughts fly from his brain, unable to think of anything but the way your tight pussy is parting to welcome his fat tip.

He’s never felt anything quite this pleasurable before, the sensation nearly blinding him as you work yourself down onto him.

Your head tilts back as Din holds onto your hips for dear life. The combination of that pressure along with the burn from his cock stretching you out is almost too much. You can feel a heat bubbling at the base of your spine, and he’s not even all the way inside of you yet.

“Oh, god, that’s so good, Din. You’re so good.”

He whimpers in response, though part of that may be due to the fact that your hips are now flush to his. You’re both panting, a sheen of sweat coating both of your bodies. You can’t see the perspiration on Din, but you can feel the moist heat emanating from him.

You open your eyes, not realizing they had been closed in the first place. You’ve never been this fucking full in your life. You swear you can feel him all the way up to your throat.

“M–plea–please move,” Din begs and lets his helmet rest on your forehead. His entire body is shaking with the effort of not blowing his load too quickly.

You grant his request, starting to rock your hips as you bring a hand to settle on his neck, delighted to find a damp mess of curls peeking out from his helmet at the nape. Din gasps as you tug lightly while lifting your hips.

You start a slow but steady rhythm, your skin slapping against each other each time you bottom out. His heavy cock drags against your walls, making your toes curl. A little whine sneaks out from Din’s concealed lips every time you sink down on him.

A lewd moan tumbles from your lips as you feel him punch against your cervix, tucking in further than you’ve ever been able to reach before.

“Fuck, Din! You’re so deep, baby!”

“I’m not g-going to last l-long, Meshla,” Din strains.

You ride him harder, taking that as a challenge. The tight thatch of hair at the base of his cock catches on your clit as you slam down on him, bringing you further to the brink. Something white hot flashes within your body, blinding you momentarily.

You’re not even able to tell him you’re close too before you’re clamping down on him, and he’s shouting as he loses control. Your moans tangle together as you soak his dick, your legs trembling unlike you’ve ever experienced before.

Din wraps his arms around you as he thrusts up into you, spilling himself within your heat. You’ve never in your life seen or felt anyone come as much as he does. Every time you think he’s done, you feel another spurt of his seed clinging to your walls.

By the time you’re both coming down, your ears have started ringing and your breathing has calmed down enough for you to get a word out, though you’re not sure Mando’s quite capable of that yet.

“Y-you good?” you manage to gasp.

You feel Din nod against you, and give yourself permission to lean against him. You’re wrung fucking dry. If this is what it feels like when you’re on top, what might it be like when Din’s in charge? The thought makes your body shudder and your pussy quiver. You sit in silence with him for a while until he finally breaks it with a voice just above a whisper.

“C-can we do that again?”

You laugh at hearing the last thing you expected to come from his mouth after that.

“Fucking maker, Din.”

***

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