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megamindsecretlair · 10 months ago

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Wrong For It

Pairing: Toxic!Tyrone x Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. FILTH. PWP, cursing, PIV, oral (female receiving), dirty talk, praise kink, all consensual. Corruption kink if you squint. ONE SHOT.

Summary: Follower Celebration: You voted for Slice of Life with a Toxic Tyrone! While hanging out with your best friend, her big brother Tyrone comes home unexpectedly. You've had a terrible crush on him for as long as you could remember. You're both a little tipsy and feeling each other. You absolutely shouldn't....right?

Word Count: 6,014k

A/N: Happy Follower Celebration!!!!! It's because of YOU that I've enjoyed (19!!!!) Tyrone fics! Not including the multiple parts. I've written sweet, toxic, disrespectful, AU, and spooky Tyrone fics and ya'll still want more! I LOVE YA'LL FRFR!!!! I hope you enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Special, special shout out to @planetblaque! I could NOT have finished this without you, ILY!!! Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!

Taglist: @planetblaque @dayjlovesromance @sevikasblackgf @melaninpov @amyhennessyhouse @henneseyhoe @honeyoriginalz @justheretostan @black-fairy3 @superhoeva @jarfulloftears @hereformiles @montysstuffs @westside-rot @blackerthings @blowmymbackout @euphoric05 @miyuhpapayuh @nicolexnight @judymfmoody @notapradagurl7 @soft-persephone @justabovewater20 @soapjay @heyauntieeee @theyscreamsannii @mybonafidefeelings @eggnox @honeytoffee @thadelightfulone @tranquilfandomer @kindofaintrovert @l-auteuse @browngirldominion @sunkissedebony97 @lovedlover @issahyland @longpause-awkwardsmile @insburner @slippinninque @thecookiebratz @we-outsiiiide @babybratzmaraj @iv0rysoap @misskiki90 @harmshake @sageispunk @ciaqui

“Girl, you never want to hang at my place anymore,” your best friend, Camille, said.

You sighed and switched your phone to your other ear, grateful that she can’t see your guilty eye roll. “That’s not true, I was just over there…” You trailed off, trying to think of when you were last over there.

Fourth of July. She had a small party, which of course meant that everybody and they mama was invited. It was easy to disappear during the party. Easy to dodge Tyrone, her brother. He wasn’t a bad guy, he was just the neighborhood fuck boy and you had a terrible crush on him.

You’d known Camille and Tyrone all their lives, having grown up right next door to them. You never stood a chance when it came to what type of guy you were interested in. Camille spent many a day complaining about her annoying older brother and how women always tried to be nice to her in order to get to him.

You didn’t have the heart to tell her that during puberty, when you really started to notice boys, you had the misfortune of seeing Tyrone workout with his shirt off. Your summers were spent looking out of your bedroom window and into their backyard where he often hung out with friends. The no shirt/black shorts/towel hanging out of his back pocket combo unlocked something in you.

You’d been changed. Altered. The fabric of your mind had been ripped apart and you spent the rest of your days trying to find someone who held a candle to Tyrone. None ever did.

“That’s right, yo bitch ass don’t even remember when. Please? I got the house to myself for once,” Camille said.

You sighed through your nose and looked at your phone. It was late in the afternoon and you didn’t have anything to do. Still. There was always the possibility of running into Tyrone.

“You sure you got the house to yourself?” You asked.

“Yes! Now come on! We can make fun of that new movie on Netflix,” she said.

“Let me get decent and I’ll be over,” you said. You held the phone away from your ear as Camille squealed loud enough to be heard around the corner.

“Bring snacks!” She said. She signed off and you groaned, flopping back onto your bed. You were an adult. Tyrone came home later and later and sometimes not at all. He was either lamped up with his latest conquest or he was out selling weed. He still sold premium shit compared to the shops and you had no idea where he got it from.

You got yourself together and raided your pantry for your favorite snacks. Chips, cookies, and pieces of candy. You were going to have a terrible sugar rush but fuck it, it was the weekend.

Soon, you were locking your door behind you and crossing the dry lawn towards Camille’s house. You checked her driveway. There was only her busted Toyota Camry out front. You could breathe easier. Eventually, you’d have to get over him. Eventually, you’d have to stop letting your avoidance of him get in the way of your friendship with Camille. You just needed more time.

You shivered with the roaring wind outside. You hadn’t expected to go to her place tonight and you were comfortable in the heated house with your shorts, long sleeved shirt, and fuzzy socks. Outside though, you were exposed to the elements. Once it dropped below 70 in LA, it was freezing.

Camille finally opened the door, her deep ebony skin almost a match for her brother’s. She had thick, curled hair that was tied up into a high ponytail at the moment. She wore a tie-dye graphic tee with the sleeves cut off and gray joggers.

She squealed when she saw you and threw her arms around you, pulling you into a big hug. You giggled and braced yourself from the added weight of her. “You act like I died,” you said.

“I thought you did. How you still live next door and I, like, never see you unless we go out?” She asked. She took some of the snacks from your hands and let you into the house. You followed behind her, closing and locking the door, and moved into the living room. Since no one was there, you had the chance to watch TV on the big screen.

You always loved being at their house. It wasn’t much. And it was just as grungy as your place growing up, but it was clean and full of love. Their mom was like a second mom to you, always making sure you were fed and gave you dolls on your birthdays.

Camille already had an assortment of liquor lined up on the table like you were pre-gaming back during your clubbing days. “Damn girl,” you said, noticing it.

Camille dumped the snacks onto the table and grinned at you. “Been so damn long, I forgot what you drink!”

“Stop. We talk all the time,” you said.

Camilled sat down on the brown, weathered couch with a big sigh. She avoided looking at you and picked at something on the cushion. “Don’t feel like it, is all,” she said.

Shit. Now you were feeling guilty. You sat down next to her and pulled her into a hug. “I just been busy at work, bestie. I’m sorry I’ve been MIA,” you said.

She grinned and shrugged. “I get it. Work is a bitch! Now let’s get drunk like we used to!”

You shook your head and again, something was telling you to throw caution to the wind. Before long, she was queuing up a movie on Netflix. She popped the top to the tequila and lined up two shots for you and two for her.

You both shot it back, howling at the burn of alcohol. “Gahh damn!” You said when your throat calmed down enough.

“Woo! Shall we play a game?” Camille lowered her voice and waggled her eyebrows. You laughed and shoved her away.

“The last time we played one of your drinking games, I was up till 3am puking my guts out!”

“That was on me. We probably shouldn’t have taken a shot every time that man licked his lips. Trevante is sex on a stick!” Camille said and cackled.

The sweet burn of alcohol dropped to your stomach and warmed you up from the inside out. You only shook your head and agreed.

Soon, you both were falling back into your normal routine. You laughed, made fun of the trash ass movie, and drank and ate your way through the night. You yawned for the tenth time in as many minutes. Fuck, you missed this. You missed hanging with your best friend.

Guilt wrapped an icy tentacle around your gut. It was your fault that you hadn’t had many times to unwind and catch up with your bestie. You had been so focused on work, so focused on keeping your mind busy, that you hadn’t realized just how long it’s been.

You vowed to change it. You were not going to let some man get in the way of your friendship. No matter how fine he was.

Camille’s soft snores made you turn towards her. You giggled and shook your head. She always fell asleep first. And she fell hard. It would take an earthquake to wake her up. And even then, you both were desensitized by them by now. The rough rocking was akin to being rocked as a baby at this point.

You were sleepy but not ready to fall asleep just yet. You decided to help her clean, not wanting to be a pig in someone else’s house, best friend or not. You swept up crumbs, wrappers, and carried shot glasses over to the kitchen. Fuck. Everything was still familiar to you.

The light over the stove was on so you didn’t turn on the overhead lights. An ache beat in your head and you didn’t need the extra tension. The kitchen had peeling sky blue paint, tile countertop, and there were clean cups and bills overtaking the counter top.

You hummed slightly as you cleaned up, knowing exactly where they kept everything. You set the shot glasses upside down on the drying mat. The humming was just loud enough to not hear the door open and close. Or hear someone approaching behind you.

The circle of arms around your waist made you squeal in fear and tense up, throwing your elbow behind you. You connected with something soft but solid, and there was a tiny “oomf”.

You moved away and turned around, chest on fire. You held up your hands. You couldn’t fight worth a damn but whoever it was didn’t need to know that.

“Damn girl, watch where you throwing them elbows!” Tyrone groaned, rubbing his stomach.

“Tyrone?” You asked.

Tyrone winked at you and smiled. You scoffed and rolled your eyes. It took a few, deep breaths for your body to catch up to the fact that you weren’t in danger. Not physical danger anyway. You placed your hand over your heart and the rapid thumbs began to slow down.

Tyrone leaned back against the counter and shoved his hands into his oatmeal colored hoodie. He wore a matching beanie and the hood was pulled up, hiding his beautiful hair that he lovingly took care of. You were brought back to plenty of days spent on their porch while Camille braided his hair and he talked shit.

He considered himself an expert on relationships, despite never really being in one, and he never wasted an opportunity to educate you on men. He always told you that niggas weren’t shit and you were better off getting in, getting off, and getting out.

Tyrone licked his lips and looked over your body, tilting his head. He grinned as he did so and you suddenly felt naked. Like he stripped you with his eyes and you were now exposed. Of course, it only got you thinking about being naked with him. Of being underneath him while he did all kinds of nasty shit to you.

You cleared your throat, thankful that your rich brown skin didn’t show when you were embarrassed or flustered. The tips of your ears did burn something fierce though. “What are you doing here?” You crossed your arms. You sounded a little breathy, but that was okay. You were still trying to calm down from being scared.

“Live here,” he said.

You sighed. Yes, you walked into that one. “Camille said you were gone tonight,” you said.

“Decided to come home early. Guess I just knew that yo pretty ass was in my kitchen,” he said.

No, no, that did not make your stomach flutter. That did not have an answering throb in your pussy. You shifted from one foot to the other, nails digging into your sides.

“More like you got in a fight with your latest squeeze,” you said. You huffed a laugh, trying to break the sudden tension. Their kitchen wasn’t that big and Tyrone had a habit of making it seem like he was the only person in the room. He approached you, getting into your personal space. You tried to lean back, but your back was already against the counter.

Tyrone’s eyes were at half mast, likely high. He shifted closer until you were nearly chest to chest. He leaned down. Your lips parted. What was happening right now? Was he going to kiss you? Right now? Right here? With Camille in the next room?

He reached out his hand and you did your best to prepare. You pinched your side. Were you really going to let this man kiss you?

He reached next to you and grabbed one of the shot glasses you just cleaned off. He grinned. “Jealous?” He asked. He moved away, opening a small pantry next to the refrigerator and pulling out a bottle of Hennessy.

“No,” you scoffed, injecting enough venom in your voice to fell an elephant. Your chest hurt for entirely different reasons now, a type of burning working its way through your lungs. You wanted to hit him. You wanted to slap that smug grin off of his face.

“Who still says ‘squeeze’? When did you turn into an old lady?” He asked. He poured himself a shot and knocked it back. You were a fool but you watched the way his throat worked down the liquid. You wanted to lick him. Wanted to plant your nose right at the hollow of his throat and kiss him.

You rubbed your head and moved away from the sink. “I’ve always been an old soul,” you tossed over to him as you passed him. He tugged on your long-sleeved navy shirt, pulling you back into the kitchen.

“Hol’ up, where you going? Shit, I ain’t seen you in a cool minute,” he said.

You shrugged out of his embrace and refolded your arms. As long as you had a barrier against Tyrone, he couldn’t see how fast you were breathing. You were thankful for the low light as well. That he couldn’t see the way you followed his every move. That your eyes darted to his lips whenever he spoke.

“I been around,” you said and shrugged.

“Naw, you were, like, always over here. Then you up and dipped, what’s that about?” He asked. He poured himself another shot and knocked it back, eyeing you over the rim. You held eye contact for a beat, perhaps two, before grinning and shrugging once more.

“Been busy. Why you giving me the third degree?” You asked.

“Damn, can’t a nigga make conversation?” He asked.

The giggle left you before you had a chance to snatch it back and hold it inside. Giggling would lead to flirting, which would lead to dangerous thoughts. You were a bit tipsy, feeling loose and unencumbered. It was a dangerous position to be in. Especially around Tyrone.

“I better go wake your sister up before she go looking for me,” you said. You smiled and moved past him once more. Again, he grabbed the back of your shirt and pulled you back in front of him.

He invaded your space, moving closer. Close enough to smell the Henny on his breath. “Why you keep trynna escape?”

“I’m not,” you said.

“You look too damn good in them shorts,” he said. He tilted his whole body to the side, exaggerating his movements to look at your legs. You laughed and shoved at his shoulder.

“You need to stop!” You said. Any minute now, Camille was going to wake up. The last thing she needed to see was you flirting with her damn brother in her kitchen. You came over here to hang out with her, not make googly eyes at Tyrone.

That color looked damn good on him though. It stood stark against his dark skin, but it suited him. It was rare that you saw him in bright colors, and the muted oatmeal color just worked on him. Everything worked on him. He was one of those annoying men that never had a bad day.

“Why I need to stop?” He asked. He straightened up and tugged on the front of your shirt, pulling you closer. You were trying to resist, trying to tug yourself backwards. But he was stronger. He pulled you forward and you braced yourself by grabbing his upper arms. You were chest to chest now, staring up into his dark eyes.

“You’re Camille’s brother,” you whispered.

“You’re Camille’s best friend. Fuck that mean?” He asked.

You grinned but immediately squashed it, poking the sides of your cheek with your tongue. You mentally slapped yourself, knowing full well you should not be enjoying this. Should not enjoy the way he grinned slowly, hand still clutching your shirt to keep you in front of him. Like he wanted you there.

“Tyrone…”

“Shhh,” he said. He licked his lips and leaned forward, rubbing his cheek against yours. You sighed. He had a bit of prickly stubble there and it felt good against your smooth skin. He kissed your cheek. “Let me kiss you.”

You shook your head, looking down at his hand on your shirt. “We shouldn’t…”

“You say ‘should or shouldn’t’ one more time and I’ma kiss you anyway,” he said.

You shook your head, looking back up at him. “Tyrone, Camille will kill us,” you whispered.

“All you gotta say is that you don’t wanna kiss me. You just keep giving me bullshit excuses,” he said.

“Fine, I don’t wanna kiss you,” you said.

“Bullshit,” he said. He leaned forward and kissed you anyway. You squealed and gripped his arms harder, intent on pushing him away. But his lips were warm and wet. Sexy. He kissed like he walked; lazy, smooth, in control.

The kiss made your pussy flutter, growing wetter by the second. He moved his hands to your waist, pulling you closer. It was like you weren’t close enough or something because he pushed you against the countertop. He ground his hips into yours and you moaned quietly, feeling something hard press into your belly. He grabbed two handfuls of your ass and squeezed.

His tongue explored your mouth, licking along your bottom lip. You hissed and ended on a sigh. When there was a natural break, you took the opportunity to pull back. Tyrone opened his eyes and grinned.

“Tyrone! You know we shouldn’t–”

Tyrone’s lips found yours once more, hands gripping your hips and digging in like he was looking for lost treasure. You moaned, gripping onto him just as hard. You finally got to taste him, that subtle hit of Henny on his breath, and it was everything you pictured it to be. Only better. It was real. It was magical.

He pulled away and tilted his head at you with a grin. You bit your lip to keep from saying what you should or shouldn’t do. You were torn between two places. On the one hand, you felt so guilty kissing Camille’s brother. Everybody grown, but it still felt taboo. Like you were breaking a sacred girl code. On the other hand, you were selfish and greedy for more.

Tyrone grabbed your hand and began to tug you into the other room. You dug your heels into the hardwood floor, stopping him in his tracks. “What are you doing?” You asked.

“‘Bout to get into some fun with you,” he said. He winked at you and you rolled your eyes, refusing to let him see how much he was affecting you.

“Oh, no, no, no. A kiss is one thing. I’m not going to your room,” you said. You had to draw the line somewhere. No amount of good dick was going to mess up your friendship.

Everyone’s had a spin on Tyrone’s dick. And it was just your luck to fall for the resident fuck boy who handed out orgasms like Halloween candy. There had been plenty of times that you and Camille were minding your sweet business when a group of girls would suddenly break out into an argument about who hopped on Tyrone’s dick last. You were not going to add yourself to that long list.

Tyrone sighed and hung his head, grabbing your hips and pushing you deeper into the kitchen. You were out of sight of the living room by now, but he didn’t stop until you were at the farthest possible point, leaning against the door that led to the side porch. You yelped, not used to being manhandled quite like this.

Tyrone dropped another kiss to your lips, hands roaming under your shirt and fiddling with the swell of your breasts. You just wanted to point out once more than you were expecting to hang out with your best friend, so no bra was required.

Tyrone kissed your neck, warm lips pressed to your pulse point. You sighed, gripping the sleeves of his hoodie. He moved one hand lower, reaching under your shorts slowly and giving you enough time to stop him. You didn’t.

He slipped beneath your panties and he ran his fingers through your wet slit. He hummed in the back of his throat. He kissed his way up to your ear. “I just want a little taste. There’s no harm in that right?”

You tried to form words to tell him that there was harm. There so was. But then he planted the visual of him tasting you there. You leaned up on your tiptoes the further he explored your damp curls, dipping a long finger into you. You bit your lip to keep from moaning too loud. You were so damn afraid of getting caught that it was a weird mix of fear and arousal that kept you rooted to the spot.

You wanted to resist him. You wanted to be strong enough to move his hand and keep him wanting more. Instead, all you could do was enjoy his fingers playing with you. “Please? Just a little taste?” He asked.

He lifted your leg to give him better access and your head thunked against the door. He had the perfect mix of pressure and rhythm that it was driving you crazy. Making your knees wobble.

You sighed choppy, breathy sounds and nodded. One little taste wouldn’t hurt that much. He grinned, kissed your ear, and then removed his fingers. He licked them while he looked you in the eye and he moaned around his fingers.

He grabbed your hand and pulled you out of the kitchen. You tried to tiptoe around a sleeping Camille but Tyrone stomped his way through the living room. Camille snored and jerked in her sleep but made no indication that she was close to waking.

Inside Tyrone’s room, you smelled a subtle weed scent. He closed the door behind you and turned on the light. It only turned on his ceiling fan, so he worked with muted lighting. He tossed off his hoodie and beanie, revealing a plain white shirt underneath. He took that off as well and he wore a white tank underneath.

Fuck, he was so hot. You watched as his arms moved and muscles bunched beneath his skin. He moved a blanket off of his bed and then grabbed your hand, pulling you towards the edge. Before you could sit, Tyrone pulled down the sides of your shorts and revealed your racy underwear. You had plans to wash today and these were all you had in the meantime.

Tyrone grinned. “I like these,” he said.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” you groaned. You covered your face, burning cheeks scalding your hands.

“Why not? Been checking you out for a while,” he said.

He ran his fingers along the gusset of your panties and you bit back a moan as his knuckles ran up against your pussy. “Liar,” you sighed.

He grabbed your hand from your face and pulled you forward so that you could cup him through his sweatpants. “This feel like I’m lyin’?”

Your eyes widened and you lightly shook your head. No, no it did not feel like he was lying. There was still that needling thought though. “Fuck boys aren’t usually picky ‘bout who they get with,” you said.

Tyrone chuckled and shook his head. He got to his knees and released your hand. He moved in between your legs, pushing them wider around his broad shoulders. He flipped his hand and started playing with your pussy in earnest.

“So fuckin’ wet,” he whispered. “You must not be that picky neither then.”

“Maybe I’m just horny,” you said.

Tyrone chuckled and bit your thigh. You whined, loving the bite of pain. “We gon’ see ‘bout that,” he said.

He moved your panties to the side and kept eye contact with you for as long as he could. You watched his tongue flick out and push past your pussy lips. You moaned, grabbing onto the back of his head.

“Mm, don’t you taste so good,” he whispered against your pussy. This was wrong. On so many levels. But you couldn’t resist as he continued to tease you, flattening his tongue against your clit but not moving it.

Your thighs twitched and tingled, needing him to move or do something besides be evil. You moved your hips, silently pleading with him to get a move on. You whined more, moving your hips. Tyrone chuckled, and sucked on your clit.

“Oh shit!” You said.

“Impatient ass,” he said.

He continued to tease, suckle, and please you until you were a whimpering, sopping mess. You’d definitely have to wash these panties immediately. They were soaked with your juices. While making out with your pussy, he pulled your panties in between your pussy lips and pulled. Your pussy lips were wedged on the outside of your panties and you leaned up in time to see a feral look cross Tyrone’s face.

In all of your fantasies, you never quite imagined him looking so enamored with your body. “Anybody tell you that you got a fat ass pussy?” He asked.

He licked your pussy through the fabric. All you felt was his hot tongue and your back bent off of the bed with a ragged moan. The edges of his tongue hit your lower lips and you cried out. You were ready to burst. You felt like your bones would melt.

He moved your panties once more and swirled his tongue in the mess you were making. You licked your lips and looked at him. He was focused on some type of demon time you weren’t privy to.

Right when you were feeling the beginnings of your orgasm, Tyrone pulled away. You huffed and got to your elbows to glare at him. He only grinned. “You said I could have a taste right?”

You coughed and sputtered as a hundred sentences tried to leave your mouth at once. “You better not leave me like this,” you said.

“If I did?” Tyrone asked. He tilted his head and looked at you, all hint of playfulness gone. He…wasn’t serious, was he? You stared at him and he stared at you. You were sure that if this were a meme, you’d be laughing your ass off but this was far from funny. You were unbearably wet and uncomfortable, and you needed relief now.

“I’ll finish myself off, then,” you said. Your hands moved to your pussy so that you could get yourself off. Not like you hadn’t had plenty of practice getting yourself there. Fuck him. Sex god, pft. What a joke. You finally got a chance to hop on community dick and all he was interested in was fucking with you.

This, you would take to your grave. You’d never fess up to this embarrassing shit. Your fingers barely grabbed your panties to move them when he grabbed your wrist painfully. You cried out and looked up at him.

“Don’t you ever try to get yourself off when I’m standing right here,” he said in a near growl, voice low and his lip curling in absolute disgust at the thought.

“But–”

“I asked you a question. I ain’t say you can play with yourself,” he said.

You gulped and sank back onto the bed. He released your wrist, tossing it away from him. It flopped onto the bed. You stared wild eyed at Tyrone, not understanding what the fuck was going on. Mark you down as scared and turned on.

He pulled roughly at your panties, tearing them down your legs with an excited rush. Your body twisted as you wiggled your thick legs out of them. Next went your shirt and his eyes widened seeing your titties.

He palmed them briefly, testing the weight between his hands and grinning. Then he tugged down his own sweats, freeing his dick. Shit. He was so big. Huge. He lowered his pants just enough to be able to move and then he was leaning forward, running his dick through your folds to get him nice and wet.

“Ty-”

“Shh, I’m gon’ fit, don’t worry,” he said.

You turned your head to the side, not able to stand him. “Look at me,” he said.

You shook your head. If you looked at him, you’d lose your damn mind. “Look at me,” he commanded, voice deeper.

You whined and looked at him. He ain’t even do nothing yet! You only hoped that it wasn’t so obvious that you’d been in love with him forever. That he couldn’t read it all over your face. Surely, you could have this one night. This one night to torture yourself with for the next fifty years as you tried to find a suitable replacement for him.

“I finally get in this pussy and I want you to see me do it,” he said.

You nodded. “I see you,” you whispered.

He placed one hand near your head to steady himself and then slowly pushed inside you. You cried out, back twisting, and he cooed at you. “You can take me,” he said. It was a matter of fact for him. Not up for debate. He said you can take him and so your body welcomed him eagerly.

He worked his tip in and you pushed against his chest. He was too much. “I ain’t even in yet, gorgeous,” he said.

“Too much…” you cried.

“No, it’s not,” he said. He slowly worked himself inside, pushing deeper and deeper until you were full of his dick. He adjusted himself before moving his hand to push down on your stomach.

Air whooshed out of you. You felt him from both sides. How did that feel so damn good? He worked his hips, giving you deep and long strokes that made you see the heavens and the earth.

“That’s right, open up this pussy for me,” he groaned.

He leaned down over you and suckled a nipple into his mouth. Your knees pressed against his waist, pushed back by the sheer size of him. You gasped and sighed in tandem with his strokes. It was like he was feeding you the air you needed and taking it away.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” you moaned.

“Shh, we ain’t wanna wake Camille,” he said. He pulled on your nipple with his lips and you whined, slapping at his shoulders.

“That hurts!” You cried.

He only licked away the sting and did the same to your other nipple. “Shit, shit,” you said and slapped at his shoulders again. He licked all around your areola and sighed, fanning his warm breath across your wet nipple.

“Next time, I’ma tie yo ass up,” he said.

“Next time!” You squealed.

He thrusted and hit a sweet spot deep inside. You croaked, eyes rolling into the back of your head. It was like he hit a reset button. He hit it again and again until you were screaming and crying, twitching on his dick with the force of your orgasm.

“I’m stretching this pussy out, huh?” He asked.

Your mouth worked but you couldn’t make any kind of coherent word come out. You could only hiss and moan with every deep stroke. “Sh–, sh–.”

“Got this dick all up in yo stomach,” he said.

You jerked and twisted on your way down from an intense orgasm. Tyrone grinned. “Oue, give me another one.”

You hiccuped and shook your head. You couldn’t give him another one. You were only allowed one reset per day, right?

Tyrone grabbed your ankles and straightened your legs out. He stood up and placed your legs on his shoulders. He kissed your ankle, rubbing the arch in your foot. Your back arched and your mouth dropped open.

“Ohh, I hit a good spot,” he moaned. He increased his pace. At this angle, he felt bigger. He felt close. Like he truly was digging your stomach out. He adjusted his hips, pushing your thighs against your stomach.

Your hand flew to his arms, trying to push him away. “Why you trynna escape? Huh?”

“Too. Much,” you said.

“Aw, my dick too much?” He asked.

You looked at him and nodded. Yes, it was too much. You weren’t used to accommodating someone of his size.

“This dick too much? You sure? ‘Cause I feel pretty good fuckin’ you,” he said, continuing to pound into you. He was relentless, taking pleasure from your body any way he could get it.

Tyrone licked his thumb and rubbed circles around your clit. Your eyes rolled back, seeing the depth of the universe behind your lids as you came once more.

“There it is, don’t that feel so good? Ain’t you needed that?” Tyrone pulled your legs apart so that he could look at you more clearly. He rutted into you a few more times before he pulled out and fisted his dick, stroking furiously and cumming with the most beautiful, pained expression on his face.

The moan that escaped him was low, guttural. The hot splashes of his cum painted a pretty picture on your stomach. You looked down to stare at that particular artwork.

Tyrone dropped your legs around his hips and panted. He dug his phone out of his pocket and took a quick picture.

“What the fuck, Tyrone!” You yelled.

Tyrone grinned and put his phone away. “Don’t worry, I won’t show nobody,” he said. “Need something to get off to until I get in this pussy again.”

Your mind went blank trying to comprehend what the fuck he just said. He moved away and cleaned himself off with a red towel that was draped over his chair. He left the room and returned with a wash rag, cleaning his cum from your skin. You were still trying to compute that he wanted to do this again.

“We can’t do this again, Ty,” you said. You got up and found your shirt, pulling it over your head. You fished around his room for your panties. The floor was clean so where…?

Tyrone cleared his throat and held your panties and tiny shorts in his hand. He held it out to you and you reached to snatch it from him. He lifted it above you, way out of reach, and leaned down.

“Give me a kiss before you escape,” he said.

“Ty, no! Give me my panties!” You wanted to shout, but you were ever cautious about waking Camille. Oh god. You weren’t exactly quiet here. Did she hear? Was she outside his door fuming?

Tyrone turned his cheek towards you and waited. You rolled your eyes and pecked him on the cheek. “Now the other side,” he said. He turned his other cheek towards you. A laugh escaped you and you huffed with the effort of trying to pull his arm down. He wouldn’t budge. So you sighed and kissed his other cheek.

He slowly brought your clothes back down. You looked up so he was able to swoop in and steal a kiss. He grinned as he pulled back. “Don’t be a stranger,” he said.

You snatched your clothes and hurriedly put them on while Tyrone stared at you. He was so annoying! And you just had sex with him. Amazing, mind-blowing sex but still.

Dressed, you pushed away from a laughing Tyrone and back into the living room. You sat on the couch and accidentally bumped into Camille. She yawned and stretched out on the couch. “Damn, how long we been asleep?”

“I don’t know. I think Netflix was watching us for a minute,” you said. You chewed on your nail. You were so sure that she’d read it all over you.

“You cool to stay over like always. I’m taking my ass to my bed,” she said. She yawned again and got up from the couch, tapping your shoulder and headed towards her room. You stared at the light under Tyrone’s door and let your mind wander.

Ultimately, you followed Camille to crash in her bed like old times.

Lordy! Yes, I said 19! You can find them all here! The Secret Tyrone Files

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imabeautifulbutterfly · 10 months ago

Note

Ok, this is so fun! Congrats again!

I'll pick...Hunter (shocked, I'm sure.)

How about: "I don't think I've ever seen you smile" and "Oh, don't be cute"/"Wait, did you just say that I'm cute?"

Thanks!!

Carol (@clonethirstingisreal)

Thank you @clonethirstingisreal - I hope you love this Carol, it actually brought a smile to my face as I was writing it.

Enjoy, love oo.

One Meal

Warnings: knife flipping, allusions to loss, slight angst, fluff. I think that's it, if I miss any please let me know.

Main Master List | Star Wars Fic Roulette

Hunter flicked his knife back and forth in between his fingers, as he contemplated the next mission. Things were … different, since you joined. Not good or bad … just different. It been about six months, and yes, the Marauder was cleaner and didn’t have that lingering smell anymore, and yes, the meals had gotten better too, because you refused to just eat the ration bars the GAR provided. And … okay, it was nice to see your smiling face in the morning, compared to the miserable faces of his brothers.

Yet, he still felt awkward around you. He wanted to laugh with you, like you could so easily with Wrecker, to have deep discussion, like you could with Tech, even philosophical discussions like you did with Echo. Hell, he’d be happy if he could just do target practice with you, like you did with Crosshair, but … every time he opened his mouth, he was curt, short tempered, and on edge.

It wasn’t even your fault, it was just him.

He stood from his seat, heading down the ramp and taking in a breath of fresh air. You were cooking dinner, doing your best to teach Wrecker that just because salt tasted good, didn’t mean he had to put in a whole table spoon full.

It made him laugh a little as you tried to explain in your most patient voice possible, that you’d fix the dinner and Wrecker could go help Tech or Crosshair with something else. It was your polite way of saying ‘go away.’

Hunter tried but he couldn’t stop the smile on his lips, as he walked over to you.

"I don't think I've ever seen you smile" you pointed out as he walked up to you. “What’s got you so happy?”

“Oh, I just saw how you were very tactful with Wrecker. It was funny.”

You shrugged trying to fight back your own laughter as you tried to fix the stew, by adding more water, “He tried. I’m grateful he’s willing to learn.”

“Need help? I’m not completely inept when it comes to cooking.”

You looked a little surprised when he asked, not that his offering to help was a real shock, it was the fact you realized this was the first time you two had a proper conversation. “Um … yeah, if you don’t mind using your handy dandy knife there, that you like flipping around so much, to cut up some of these veggies so I can add them, that’d be great.”

Hunter chuckled at your description, as he nodded, taking a seat and getting to work, “Where did you learn to cook?” He asked, hoping to get to know you a little better.

“My mom and grandmother. They were adamant that I learn how to feed an army if I ever needed to …” you chuckled, “I had a big family, back home. Usually there would be around twenty of us for dinner.”

“Twenty? Did you have a lot of siblings?”

“No. It was just me. But I had uncles, aunts, cousins, friends, neighbours, anyone and everyone who needed a meal could always come to our place for dinner. We never turned away anyone in need of a good meal.”

“Sounds nice.”

“It was …” a sadness passed your face, as you thought back to what had once been your home, until the Separatist droid army showed up, and destroyed everything you had held so dear.

Hunter saw your smile slip, it pained him to see that you had been through so much, although he hadn’t heard about it directly from you, he did overhear what had happened when you were talking with Tech. “Well we appreciate all your efforts, especially when you’re trying to teach us neanderthals how to cook.”

You giggled a little, pushing away the sad thoughts that had encapsulated your mind for a split second, “You’re not neanderthals.”

“We’re not exactly proper either. Couldn’t say, we’re exactly suited for a posh dinner.”

You shook your head as you laughed, “You don’t need to be suited for a posh dinner, you just need to show up to eat.” You smiled as you turned to look at him, smirking as you saw how perfectly he cut each vegetable.

You walked over and grabbed the tray of veggies, and dropped them into the stew, “Thanks for your help.”

“Of course. Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure”

“Why do you take care of us? I mean granted the Marauder smells a lot better, and the meals you cook are much better than the GAR rations, but … why do you do it?”

You stirred the stew as you contemplated the question, “I guess … because you feel like family to me.” You turned to look at him, truthfully, he was the only one that you didn’t think of as family, you wanted something more with him, something special, but seeing as this was the first time you two actually talked, it might be a bit far-fetched to imagine that could possibly happen. “And, I love seeing how my food makes you guys happy. Wrecker, has the biggest smile on his face, whenever he eats when I cook. Tech has this adorable blush, although he’ll never admit how much he enjoys my cooking. And Crosshair … well he always comes back for seconds; and frankly, between you and me, he needs to eat more. He’s too skinny. I could break off his collarbone if I needed.”

“I enjoy it too,” Hunter clarified as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, “I might not say it, but I always look forward to your cooking.” He blushed and turned his head away, not wanting you to see how much of an effect you had on him, and not just because of your cooking.

You laughed at his reaction, "Oh, don't be cute” you teased, “I might have to walk over there and pinch your cheeks.”

Hunter started to laugh, when he realized what you said, “Wait, did you just say that I'm cute?"

Main Master List | Star Wars Fic Roulette

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