#They clone tyrone fan fiction

[megamindsecretlair]

Sprung

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

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, multiple uses of the n-word, pet names. You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Smut, PWP, cursing, PIV, oral (fem receiving), cum play, possession kink, size kink, all consensual. Mentions of drug use and drinking.

Summary: You are so painfully shy, it hurts even you. But at a kickback at Tyrone's house, he sits next to you and promises you all kinds of dirty fun.

Word Count: 4,419k

A/N: This was my first ever request for a fic and I loved it! I had way too much fun writing this. I need to go hose off or something because WHEW! I am zooted and feral, so thank you @planetblaque for your support and this request! Likes are always awesome. Please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers!

Taglist: @dayjlovesromance @sevikasblackgf @melaninpov @amyhennessyhouse @wakandas-vibranium @henneseyhoe @honeyoriginalz @justheretostan @black-fairy3 @superhoeva @jarfulloftears @hereformiles @montysstuffs

It was a typical Friday night. Your friend had dragged you to hang with Tyrone and the crew per her usual. She was trying to get you to loosen up and hang out, but you didn’t know these people. You ran in the same circles and occasionally saw them at the club or around the corner. But you’d stand there awkwardly while your friend did all the talking. 

You’d probably trip over your words anyway. Tyrone was so fine. He moved like he owned the world. Even with a slow gait, he walked like you couldn’t tell him shit. He was low key, he didn’t talk much, but it was clear that he had an energy that drew people in. 

He was nice enough to say hi and try to include you in the main conversation, but you’d just smile and nod along. Every time he came near or passed by you, it robbed you of your senses. He smelled clean like soap and your mouth would go dry whenever he’d smile big and wide. Those times were rare, but when it happened, your heart would stop. 

This particular night, it seemed like everyone had paired up. There was a good mix of men and women chilling in Tyrone’s living room. The California sun cast rays of orange and pink through the blinds. Some movie you didn’t hear the name of played on the TV. Music flowed and there was heavy smoke in the air. 

“You smoke?” Tyrone had walked into the room and sat beside you. Your heart started thumping in your chest. You twisted your fingers and shook your head. You couldn’t look at him. He was like one of those statues that were so beautiful and lifelike, it hurt to look too long. 

“You don’t say much,” he said. He stared at you while he took a hit off of a joint. He turned his head the other way to blow it out, but the room was so permeated with it, it hit you anyway. You didn’t mind it much, it had a weird smell. But you were used to your friend smoking while ya’ll hung out. 

“I never know what to say,” you said. 

“How ‘bout why you don’t smoke?” He asked. He licked his lips and your eyes dropped to his lips. You wondered what it would be like to kiss him. Not that you’d ever really find out. He probably liked girls that were like your friend. Loud, confident, small. You had some meat on your bones. It wasn’t a bad thing, but guys like Tyrone went for the girls they could toss around the room. He’d probably hurt his back trying to lift you. 

You shrugged and studied your fingers. “Never seemed like something I’d be into,” you said. 

“No pressure, but you wanna play a game with me?” He asked. He hit the joint one more time and passed it on.

You blinked at him to see if he was playing some kind of joke on you. But he looked at you, dead serious, until you nodded. 

“Aight. For tonight, keep an open mind.”

You didn’t know what he was talking about, but you wanted to. Your heart was working overtime in your chest, making your hands shake and making you stutter. You didn’t trust your voice, but you wanted to stop being a coward. You nodded. He smiled slowly, letting you see all of his teeth. 

“Besides smoking, have you drank before?” 

“I’m not a prude,” you said. 

He laughed and held up his hands. “Aight, damn. My bad,” he said. “I get you a drink, will you talk to me some more?” 

“Yes,” you said and rolled your eyes. People always teased you about being quiet. But it always felt like you were one step behind everyone else. It was easier to sit back and just absorb the vibe than try to chime in with some useless comment. 

“Good girl,” Tyrone said and got up once more.

Your mouth dropped open. You gaped at him as he walked off to the kitchen. He didn’t look back at you. But that comment sent a shiver down your spine. He returned with two red cups in his hand and he handed one to you.

You shook the amber brown liquid and looked at him. “Henny?” You asked.

He nodded and watched you. You took a sip and then another one, letting the sweet burn coat your tongue. You swallowed it down and tried not to make a face.

“Not usually your thing?” 

“Not usually,” you said. 

Tyrone smiled and scooted closer to you until your thighs were pressed together. You wore shorts and a hoodie, so your bare thigh rubbed against his cargo shorts. He touched your knee and your leg jumped.

“You real tense for someone that’s supposed to be enjoying the party,” he said. He moved an index finger around your knee and you slowly relaxed. 

“I am enjoying the party.” You smiled at him and sipped some more Henny. Maybe the alcohol would make you cooler or sexier. You knew you were beautiful and any guy would be lucky and the blah blah blah. But there was a difference between being beautiful and being sexy. Wanted. Desired. 

Tyrone talked to you more, claiming he wanted to know more about you. You told him about your job, a little bit about your family. You learned that he only had a mom. His little brother was killed when he was younger and from the pain in his voice, you knew that that pain would never go away.

On to happier topics, you discussed your favorite movies, songs, and groups. He laughed when you said you preferred Tupac to NWA. He thought you were crazy. Adorable, but crazy. But he wanted to know more about you and wanted you to open up. He asked you why you were so stiff.

“I’on know, it’s just hard to relax. I got anxiety and shit,” you said. He laughed. His laugh was throaty and deep and he shook his head. 

“You too cute to have anxiety,” he said.

“One ain’t got nothin’ to do with the other!” 

“I can make you relax,” he said. Humor danced in his eyes, but there was nothing funny on his face. He stared at you and you saw his eyes wander all over you. 

“How?” Your voice was small in the din of the room. Music still thumped and the room had thinned out as people started to pair off and find a flat surface somewhere. You had lost track of your friend and her boyfriend, one of Tyrone’s friends. 

Moaning to your left caught your attention. A couple was standing near the kitchen making out but they may as well have been the only people in the room. The girl was small, high ponytail, and glossy lips and she was climbing all over her much taller date/boyfriend. Your cheeks burned as you looked away.

“You got a nigga I need to worry about?” He asked.

“No. You got a girl I need to worry about?” You asked. 

He smirked but he didn’t answer you. He leaned down and kissed your cheek. “You still down to play our game?”

You nodded. He raised his hand and stroked your chin before making you meet his eyes. “Let’s go to my room then. I can help you relax,” he said.

You smiled and wanted to look away but he held your chin and made you look at him. “Um, I don’t know about that,” you said. 

“Why not?” 

“We don’t really know each other like that,” you said. 

He kissed you. His lips were warm and you tasted Hennessy and weed on his tongue as it stroked yours. He suckled your lips with his and you moaned softly in the back of your throat. Fuck, he kissed really well. The type of kiss where you couldn’t sit still. The kind that made you want to crawl under his skin and live there. The kind that made your toes curl and your pussy get damp.

He pulled back and licked your lips one last time. “We can get to know each other,” he said.

“By getting in between my thighs?” You weren’t stupid. You knew what he was asking for. 

“Shit, if you let me,” he said and grinned. 

“Why me?” You asked. He was so fine that he could have any girl he wanted. He could crook his finger at anyone in the room and they would come crawling over to him, ready to please him. 

“‘Cause you fine as hell. And you got me hurtin’ over here,” he said. He grabbed your hand and placed it over his dick. It hardened as he rubbed your hand over him. He was big, huge, gigantic. You’d seen and touched dicks before, but this was like the Sistine Chapel or some shit. The Mona Lisa. This was the end all and be all of dicks.

Panic must’ve shone on your face because Tyrone chuckled and kissed you again, rendering you stupid. “We’ll go slow. Just the tip,” he said. 

You laughed. “You don’t believe that shit,” you said.

He grinned. “For you? I’d take my time,” he said. 

You looked at him as he continued to rub his dick with your hand. Everything in you was screaming to run away and go home. What if you were bad in bed? What if you did something wrong? What if you couldn’t get him off? 

The questions tumbled inside of your head, taking you out of the moment. You looked down at your hand and stopped moving it. 

“Don’t give me no bullshit. I see you want this dick,” he said.

You sucked your teeth and rolled your eyes. “I wasn’t gonna give you bullshit,” you told him. You a damn lie, but he didn’t have to know that. 

“Just say yes. Let me help you unwind,” he said. 

You didn’t say anything as he stood up and pulled you to your feet. You didn’t say anything as he led you down the dark, quiet hallway towards his room. He opened the door for you and you walked in and sat on his bed.

His room was clean for a boy. He still had stuff thrown around but at least it smelled good in here and there were no empty dishes or wrappers. You hated dealing with messy people like that.

Tyrone closed the door and your heart was back to thumping. Tyrone sat next to you but didn’t do anything. You looked at him, wondering if he was waiting for you to make the next move. This was why you didn’t do shit like this. You didn’t know the rules or how everything was supposed to go down.

“You a virgin?” He asked.

You laughed, not expecting that question. “No!” 

“What you actin’ shy for then? Give me a kiss,” he said. 

You scooted closer and pecked him on the lips. He sucked his teeth and smirked. 

“Don’t give me that weak shit,” he said.

You sighed but leaned in again to kiss him. You weren’t always good with words. But this you could do. You had been crushing on him for a while anyway. And by some miracle, he at least wanted to fuck you too. 

When you pulled back, you blinked up at him and he grinned. “Good to keep going?” 

You nodded. Tyrone went back to kissing you and for a while, he was content to do just that. There was nothing hurried about it. He kissed like he did everything else. In his own time. The more you kissed, the more that you were scooting closer and rocking back and forth trying to get some relief. 

Tyrone huffed a laugh against your lips and pulled back to start kissing your cheek and jaw. “You ever let a nigga eat you out?” He asked. 

“No.” Your voice was breathy as he found a ticklish spot on your neck. You curled against him and he laughed. He pulled your hoodie off and laughed at your fandom t-shirt.

“You like that goofy shit?” He asked.

“The fandom sucks, but yeah. It’s good,” you said. 

He shook his head. “I ain’t never seen it. Maybe we can watch it together,” he said. He went back to kissing your neck as you thought over what he said. He wanted to watch the movie with you. As in…he wanted to see you again after this? 

Well…wait till your friend heard about this shit. She thought your crush on Tyrone was adorable. You didn’t want to be adorable.

You broke the kiss and took off your shirt, leaving you in your bra and shorts. Tyrone raised his eyebrows and took in the burnished orange of your bra. It was a little risqué, with lace for the cups and it barely covered your nipple. 

“Not such a good girl. What you doin’ wearing this?” He asked. He kissed a hot trail down your jaw and to the top of your breasts. He nibbled on one and you squirmed underneath him. 

“I like it,” you told him. 

“Mhm, I like that shit too,” he said. He pushed you onto your back and then stood up. You watched as he got rid of his own black t-shirt and kicked off his shoes and socks. He was a big boy, stocky, solid. You took in his chest and body and nearly salivated. 

He moved closer, forcing your legs apart and you gasped. He chuckled darkly and started to remove your shorts. “I like this color on you,” he said. 

Your panties matched your bra and he stood for a moment taking in your body. You crossed your arms, feeling self conscious. You were about to ask that you do this with the lights off. But Tyrone kneeled down and kissed your forearms, your hands, and your fingers.

“Don’t hide from me. I wanna see everything,” he said. He peeled your arms from over your chest and placed them on the sides of your body. You forced yourself to keep them there as he kissed along your tummy, your sides, your breasts. 

He was slow and methodical with it. He never kissed the same area twice. He was showering your body with kisses and it only made you tingle. It made your hunger for him grow like a living thing inside of you. You shook even though the room was stuffy. 

“How long has it been?” He asked against your skin. Wherever he kissed, he brought his hands up to massage you. He started with your thighs, kneading through the fleshy bits and his thumbs inched higher to where you wanted him. But he stopped just short of reaching your pussy and he worked his way down, towards your knees.

“A long while. Guys don’t really check for the big nerds,” you said. You weren’t bitter about it. It was a sad fact of life. And you didn’t want no ashy nerd anyway. 

“That’s not true. We think ya’ll too good for us,” he said. You laughed and shook your head. You brought your hands up to your face. 

Why was this shit so embarrassing? You were grown. You knew your worth. But in the back of your mind, you kept thinking that this was a set up. Any minute now, he was gonna take a picture or video and share it to social media and you were going to be laughed at forever. But that was irrational. You knew it was irrational. 

“Move yo fuckin’ hands,” he said. 

You lowered them and stared at him and his little tone. “Stop all that hiding shit.” 

You blew out a breath. “It’s a habit,” you said.

“Yeah, well the shit stops tonight. Feel me?” 

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, damn.” 

Tyrone stood up and leaned over you. His fists were on either side of your head and you suddenly felt small compared to the size of him. “I’ma break you of that shit.” This close, his deep voice was amplified in the small room. 

You were breathing too rapidly to ask more questions or what he was talking about. You had an idea but you couldn’t think past the look in his eyes. His eyes were narrow and though his lights were on, his eyes were two dark pools. You were drowning in them and you didn’t want to be saved.

He kissed you, chasing away any more thoughts. Then he kissed down your chest and belly again before planting his big nose against your sex and inhaling. “Fuck, you smell good,” he said. “Bet you taste good too.” 

He stripped you of your panties and then blew a breath across your wet pussy. You jerked, back to being nervous. He didn’t say anything. He just ran his big tongue from your pussy to your clit. You gasped and ended on a moan as he did it a few more times. 

“Fuhh,” you moaned. Had you known that getting eaten out felt this good, you would have done it a long time ago. 

Tyrone gripped your thighs and hooked his arms around them. Then he latched onto your clit and started to devour you. He licked, sucked, and swirled his tongue around your clit. You jerked and tried to scoot away, but he held onto your thighs and wouldn’t let you get away. 

You were soaking wet and his tongue only added to it. Your wetness and his spit dribbled down your ass cheeks and onto the bed. You were mildly embarrassed by that but he continued to eat you out and your embarrassment had its limits. Your concerns melted away as he licked and sucked away. 

“Goddamn, you taste so fuckin’ good,” he said. He dived back into eating you out. He licked around your pussy and you started to stutter. “Oh, shit, wait,” you managed to squeak out. There was a pressure building low inside of you. 

You had an orgasm before but it had been so long. Your breaths were little bursts of air in the room. You gripped onto his forearms and held on. 

“I can’t…” you said. You wanted to move away and then orgasm. This seemed too intense, too big to do with his face in between your thighs. As if you were going to climax and burst into stardust.

“Mhm, let me taste it while you cum,” he said. His warm breath fanned over your pussy, drawing out another moan. 

“Ty–” His lips descended on your pussy and started to flick your clit with his tongue. You cursed as the orgasm finally, blessedly tore through you. Your thighs twitched and you moved to close them, but Tyrone still held them rigid. He kept eating you out as your arousal pooled out of you. 

When you were done with it, Tyrone kissed your thighs leaving wet spots behind. The bed under you was damp and starting to cool already. The bed dipped as Tyrone stood up and looked down at you with a satisfied grin.

“Felt good huh?” 

You nodded and caught your breath. “Don’t get a big head,” you warned him. He waved you off as he undid his shorts and slipped it and his underwear off. His thick cock bobbed as it was set free and it was already leaking precum. A drop fell from the tip and disappeared. 

You licked your lips as you watched. You wanted to taste him too. You wanted to suck him off and have him screaming your name. Have him moaning and throwing his head back. Your pussy contracted just thinking of making him feel just as good. 

Tyrone stroked himself and chuckled. “As much as I want that sexy ass mouth on me, I wanna feel you cum on this dick,” he said. 

He helped you sit up in bed and out of the giant wet spot you left behind. You stared at the dark spot against his blue sheets. You couldn't believe that all of that came from you. He pried your legs open and settled in between them. He positioned you how he wanted but also so that you were comfortable.

You had a big ass and that meant that you couldn’t lay down in the bed like others could. Your back was always lifted off of the mattress in some kind of way. He pushed a pillow under your back without you even having to say something. 

He slapped his dick against your pussy. The wet slap was lewd and obscene. You brought your hands up to hide your face, but Tyrone grabbed your wrists and planted them against the bed. He kissed you until you melted under him once more. 

When he was sure that you weren’t going to try and hide again, he moved his hand from your wrist. He lifted one of your legs and pushed it back until it was only slightly uncomfortable. 

He poked you with his dick and you moved your hips, trying to line him up to enter you. He watched you struggle and grinned when you grew frustrated. He licked his thumb and started to play with your clit. 

You stopped trying to get him inside you and relaxed into the pillows. “Oh, shit,” you said. He lined up his dick with your entrance and pushed in. Your hand flew to his stomach to stop him. 

“Slow, remember? Slow,” you said. He was huge and it’d been a while for you, so as he pushed in, the slight burn only made you nervous. 

“You gotta let me work it in, baby,” he said. 

You nodded. He was right. You had to let him in but fuck. He was so big and you weren’t sure he was gonna fit. That had to be a thing right? Not being able to fit. 

He only drew big circles around your clit and waited for you to stop tensing. He worked his hips back and forth trying to get inside of you. He pushed in a little more every time. He slipped on your wetness and went further, faster, and you bucked off of the bed with a silent scream. Your mouth had dropped open.

Tyrone moaned and rolled his head back towards the ceiling. “Goddamn. You so fuckin’ tight,” he whispered. 

“Slow, slow!” Your brain was a real one, because it forced you to breathe when all you wanted to do was die. Tyrone stretched you out, further than you thought possible. You slapped at his stomach, arms, hands, as air returned to your lungs.

Tyrone only smirked down at your weak hits. “I gotta move, baby.” He slid out and back inside and you shrieked with pleasure. Your little squeals and moans were making Tyrone go faster. As if he had something to prove. 

“Squeezin’ the shit outta my dick. Fuck. This my fuckin’ pussy.” His words were low and skipped over your nerve endings like a live wire. “This my fuckin’ pussy. It belong to me.”

You convulsed and contracted on his dick at his words. He felt it and groaned. “Yeah, that’s right. My fuckin’ pussy.” 

Sweat dripped down from the crown of his head down his face. It slid down his neck and you licked your lips. You wanted to taste him. You sighed and tried to swallow your moans. You didn’t want to be too loud. 

Tyrone switched up his angle, pushing your leg a little further back and a shrill moan escaped you. You bit your lip and Tyrone leaned down to kiss you. “Let me hear you, baby. Be good for me,” he said.

You nodded and let your moans fly. Fuck it. He felt so damn good inside of you. Like he was made to be there. Your wetness made him slip in and out easily now. He moved his hand from your leg and pulled down the cups of your bra so that you were exposed to him.

He sucked on your titties and continued to pound inside of you. “Fuck, Tyrone. Fuck. Wait,” you said. The duel sensations were too much for you. You wrapped your arms around his neck and held on. Your hands played with his neck. You kissed his cheek and got sweat all over you. You licked your lips and licked the saltiness of him. 

“Fuck, Tyrone.” 

“I can’t fuckin’ wait. You feel too fuckin’ good. Where the fuck you been hiding this shit?” He asked. 

He licked your neck, probably tasting your salty sweat as well. He bit down on your neck and you jerked. Your orgasm was swift and without mercy. You clamped down on his dick and he growled in your ear. 

“Muthafucka,” he said. His voice was muffled in your neck. He stroked two more times before climaxing and releasing a fat load into you. You felt it fill you up. You should have been nervous about having sex without a condom. But you just wanted more. You hugged him to you as if you could mold yourself to him.

You moaned loudly, filling up the space with the sound of your voice. You didn’t worry for once. You didn’t worry about how you sounded or if you were doing it right. You didn’t worry about what he must be thinking. It was just your combined pleasure and the feeling of him buried deep inside of you. 

His skin was on your skin. His hands were wrapped under you, squeezing your ass. Your nipples rubbed against his chest. Your nails dug into his back. It smelled like sex and his unique manliness. 

He leaned up on one elbow so he wasn’t crushing you. He kissed you, slow and methodical like before. Like you were precious. Like he wanted to savor every once of your kisses like a chef at a new restaurant. 

“Whose fuckin’ pussy is this?” He asked.

“Mine,” you said, feeling wicked and naughty. 

He pushed into you, still rock hard and you gasped. “Fuck,” you moaned.

“I’m still fuckin’ full. I’ma keep going until you know whose pussy this is,” 

You grinned evilly and kissed him. “I said it’s mine,” you said. 

He chuckled and ran his tongue over your nipple. He started to move inside of you. His cum squelched as he started to fuck you again. He slid in and out even more easily and you took deep breaths. 

“Naw. This shit belong to me.”

&&&

The Secret Tyrone Files (if you want to check out more!

[8ttached]

"she's a real gem huh?"

pairings - (possessive) Fontaine x blk reader

warnings - (18+ smut, minors dni!!) not proof read, car sex (dont know if I would consider this as public sex since it's in an empty parking lot but you have been warned!!), aave, use of the n word, make-up sex

authors note - heyy I've been so caught up with other shit that i almost forgot about Tumblr but i finally whipped something up after weeks of writers block but i hope you guys enjoy!!!

word count - 946

(reblogs and comments are most definitely appreciated!! )

possessive Fontaine 

You always knew Fontaine was the possessive type. Not the loud “yells at anyone who stares at you” kind of possessive. But the “I know I'm lucky” possessive. The type to plant hickeys all over your neck for other niggas to see when they're talking to you. he gets a kick outta the ones who stare at them for too long

You were at the bar with yoyo and slick. Fontaine decided not to go since in his words “he got other shit to do.” your main plan was to stick together incase some weird shit happens but after a few drinks that plan was dropped. Yoyo was dancing while slick was god knows where and now you’re chopping it up with some nigga that claimed to “know you from way back.”

“Yeah, you haven't changed a bit! Same eyes as your mama” the older man said. You laughed nervously as you looked around the atmosphere. The guy began to compliment you again and again. Comments like “you look just like ya mama” and “you've gotten so grown” made your skin crawl.

You look at your phone checking the time, but you ended up seeing missed calls from Fontaine. not just one, but Multiple. You looked around looking for Yoyo and slick knowing that if Fontaine called multiple times, it was something serious. 

The older man's words suddenly turned into mumbles as you looked around seeing Slick and Yoyo nowhere in sight. You look down at your phone worried as you start to call Fontaine but something stops you. The older male said something as you weren't paying attention and a tall broad man stood behind you. 

“Yeah, she's a real gem huh?” he agreed.

The dark male's voice sent chills down your spine causing you to turn your shoulders, face to face with your boyfriend. Fontaine didn't say anything to you. His low-lidded eyes said more than enough. As you walked outside you remembered Slick and Yoyo were still in the club. Or so you thought.

“What about yoyo and-”

“They left.” 

Fontaine didn't look at you. His hands in his pockets, eye facing straight ahead, it all worried you. But what worried you most was Yoyo and Slick leaving you at the club knowing what could have happened. Especially with the weirdo you were talking to. 

You both get into his car. As you look down on your lap you feel a heavy shake from Fontaines side of the car. You smack your thick lips. “Damn nigga you ain't needa slam the door that hard.” but he didn't say anything, let alone look at you. He was giving you the cold shoulder. 

 “..taine” cold shoulder again. You sigh deeply. The car ride home was quiet

Fontaine set the car to park and took his key out the car. Before he could open the door you grab his shoulder. “Fuck you touching me for?’ he mumbles. “Fontaine it wasn't what it looked like” Your hand laid on his shoulder. “So you at the bar flirting to some older nigga wasn't what it looked like?” he turns to you, his grills shining as his nose turns up in irritation. “No, it wasn't! And you know I wouldn't do that shit to you” your voice cracked. You didn't want Fontaine to be worried about you. You were a big girl and you didn't need some hood nigga taking care of you, but you also didn't want him to think you were someone to share around. “Then what was it?”

 You ended up telling him everything that happened. From the plan, to the creepy comments. You made sure to lay everything onto the table. 

“Why didn't you say shit at the club?” he sighs looking straight at the driver's wheel as he sucked his teeth. “ ‘cus I know you taine and ion need that type of attention on me.” your eyes stuck at your dress. “That dress giving you every type of attention” Your boyfriend examines your short dress with a deep breath and hand rubbing his beard. He thought you looked jaw dropping but knowing Fontaine, he wasn't gonna let you see him fold so quickly, especially after what just happened. What’d you expect? He's stubborn. You smile, “Whatchu meannnn..” you laugh as you cross your hands, looking at him from the side. 

And like that, flirting quickly turned to fucking. 

Fontaine's rough hands groping your titties, ass, and hips time and time again. His name leaves your thick lips over and over again. the car windows steaming with warm breaths of ecstasy.

“Ion won't no other nigga looking at you” Fontaine groins. “ion care if yo ass was green, don't no nigga need to be laying they eye on what's mine.” you nod, too breathless, too caught up with with the feeling of Fontaine's hands rubbing that spot on your clit. ‘I'm all yours taine” you finally sigh. Your legs shaking as you finally came. But the rhythm of Fontaine's hips continued. His hands gripping your ass as his head lays back. 

“Fontaine, i cant..” you hold his arm. ‘I know baby i know, just relax mama m’kay?” you nod lightly laying yourself on his chest. Your warm breath on his neck. “Where you want it baby?” Fontaine's raspy voice asked. You were so fucked out of it, you couldn't let out coherent words. “In…side..” you moaned as Fontaine came inside you.

“You got it all on my dress!” you yelled out quietly as Fontaine grabbed the house keys. “That’ll show dem weird niggas ya already fucking with someone.” you notice his grin from the side which made you smile.

He really made you feel like a gem tonight. 

[t-800]

why is there so much they cloned tyrone fan fiction.

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They Cloned Tyrone | Premiera la Cinema Elvire Popesco, Cinema Elvire Popesco, Bucharest, July 21 2023 | cinemov.lat

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Ce este un film They Cloned Tyrone?

They Cloned Tyrone este un film american de comedie științifico- fantastică din 2023 , regizat de Juel Taylor în debutul său regizoral, dintr-un scenariu de Taylor și Tony Rettenmaier. Filmul îi are în distribuție pe John Boyega , Teyonah Parris și Jamie Foxx (care este și producător) ca un trio improbabil care descoperă o conspirație guvernamentală de clonare . David Alan Grier și Kiefer Sutherland apar și în roluri secundare.

Dezvoltarea filmului a început în februarie 2019, când scenariul a fost opționat din Lista Neagră de către MACRO Media. A fost conceput ca un omagiu care distruge genurile filmelor Blaxploitation din anii 1970, prezentând elemente de satiră , groază și umor absurd . Brian Tyree Henry a fost inițial atașat să joace ca rol principal, dar în cele din urmă a fost înlocuit de Boyega în octombrie 2019. Parris și Foxx s-au alăturat distribuției în septembrie 2020. Filmările au avut loc în Atlanta , Georgia , din noiembrie 2020 până în aprilie 2021.

când apare filmul lui They Cloned Tyrone în romana?

They Cloned Tyrone a avut premiera la Festivalul american de film negru pe 14 iunie 2023. A început o lansare limitată în cinematografe pe 14 iulie 2023, înainte de a fi difuzat pe Netflix o săptămână mai târziu. Filmul a primit recenzii pozitive din partea criticilor, cu laude deosebite îndreptate către interpretarea rolului principal.

cine l-a jucat pe They Cloned Tyrone film?

În rolurile principale : John Boyega ca Fontaine Teyonah Parris ca Yo-Yo Jamie Foxx ca Slick Charles David Alan Grier Kiefer Sutherland J. Alphonse Nicholson ca Issac Tamberla Perry ca Biddy Eric Robinson Jr. în rolul lui Big Moss

Informații complete despre filmele lui They Cloned Tyrone

They Cloned Tyrone (2023) R 06/14/2023 (US) Comedy, Science Fiction, Mystery 2h 2m

They Cloned Tyrone pe Disney Plus?

Nu există niciun semn de They Cloned Tyrone Trail pe Disney+, dovadă că Casa șoarecilor nu are control asupra întregii francize! Acasă la titluri precum „Războiul Stelelor”, „Marvel”, „Pixar”, topurile National GThey Cloned Tyrone, ESPN, STAR și multe altele, Disney+ este disponibil pentru un abonament anual de 79,99 USD sau o taxă lunară de 0,99 USD. Dacă sunteți doar un fan al uneia dintre aceste mărci, merită să vă înscrieți la Disney+ și nici măcar nu există reclame.

They Cloned Tyrone la HBO Max?

Ne pare rău, dar The They Cloned Tyrone Way nu este disponibil pe HBO Max. Există o mulțime de conținut HBO Max pentru 14,99 USD pe lună, acest abonament este fără reclame și vă oferă acces la fiecare titlu din biblioteca HBO Max. Platforma de streaming a anunțat o versiune susținută de reclame care costă mult mai puțin la 9,99 USD pe lună.

They Cloned Tyrone pe Amazon VidThey Cloned Tyrone?

Din păcate, They Cloned Tyrone Path by Water nu este disponibil pentru streaming gratuit pe Amazon Prime VidThey Cloned Tyrone. Cu toate acestea, puteți alege alte emisiuni și filme de vizionat de aici, deoarece are o mare varietate de emisiuni și filme din care să alegeți pentru 14,99 USD pe lună.

They Cloned Tyrone la Peacock?

Calea They Cloned Tyrone nu poate fi urmărită pe Peacock în momentul scrierii. Peacock oferă abonamente pentru 4,99 USD pe lună sau 49,99 USD pe an pentru un cont premium. După cum sugerează și numele, platforma de streaming poate juca gratuit cu conținut în aer liber, chiar dacă este limitat.

They Cloned Tyrone la Paramount Plus?

The Road to Water de They Cloned Tyrone nu este pe Paramount Plus. Paramount Plus oferă opțiunile de abonament potrivite: o versiune de bază acceptată de reclame a Paramount + Essential pentru 4,99 USD pe lună și un plan premium fără anunțuri pentru 9,99 USD pe lună.

Unde pot viziona They Cloned Tyrone gratuit?

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Vă întrebați cum să transmiteți în mod legal They Cloned Tyrone gratuit? Dacă da, te vei bucura că este cu adevărat posibil, deoarece în prezent există mai multe site-uri în Italia unde poți viziona gratuit filme de toate genurile și epocile. În unele cazuri, poate fi necesar să vă înregistrați prin e-mail sau să utilizați contul dvs. online pentru a vă autentifica.

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[neko-naruto]

An old friend

Summary: It has been years since anyone last set foot on Stans property, every since he had been hospitalized.

Dipper is planning on changing that with help from his sister, and maybe someone else.

Warnings: Cloning, hospital mention, implied suicide, abandoned buildings, implied blackmail, check tags for further warning.

Tagging: @max-the-hecker

Authors Note: I just watched the episode Double Dipper, trying to savor the 41 episodes, and let me tell you, the possibilities this opened up for me to write.

Hands in the pockets of his worn out navy vest Dipper walked out of the hospital, eyes stuck on the cracked pavement, he couldn't help but wish he could do something to fix Stan. He knew he couldn't, and he knew he shouldn't wish on it, but he couldn't help but care so much, Stan was his family after all. He kicked a rock across the ground before coming to a complete halt, taking note of the sound of footsteps rushing towards him. He stayed still while Mabel caught her breath, leaning on Dippers shoulder, she could practically feel the stress emanating from her brother.

"Do you, uh, do you wanna get some ice cream...?" Mabel asked, hoping it would cheer up her brother, she knew it wouldn't but, might as well try.

"No," Dipper replied with sharply as Mabel straightened out her posture and the two continued walking down the street. "I want things to be good again, I want Wendy to come back from the beyond, I want to go back home."

"Hey, Dip, it's gonna be ok," Mabel said, rubbing her brothers shoulder, brushing the tears from his face. "I can ask mom and dad to drive us back as soon as possible-"

"No!" Dipper snapped, expression quickly dropping as he tried to revoke his statement. "I-I mean, not really, I kind of want to head back to the, the Mystery Shack, or our old attic."

"Dipper, it's been shut behind chainmail fences, barbed wire and padlock upon padlock for years." Mabel said as they took a turn, coming up to the motel their direct family had rented two rooms in for their most recent visit, coming once every month just in case Stan doesn't last.

Gravity Falls has become stale, nothing new has happened in forever, Dipper and Mabel suspect the creatures have fled. Wendy is no longer in town, in a better place for lack of better terms, leaving both Mabel and Dipper with a fresh wound their parents don't understand whenever they bring up the trapper hat. Soos is still in town, but he's moved on from the Mystery Shack, holding onto the book Dipper once possessed for safekeeping, having returned it to the lad when he noticed Dipper back in town.

With a heavy heart Dipper swung open the door to the back seat of the car, Mabel slid in first till she was against the door opposite of the one Dipper opened. Dipper hopped in second, slamming the door shut and crossing his arms, pulling the comfort blanket from under himself and tossing it over to Mabel. Normally he would be fine leaning against the window and just sitting silently while the two wait for their parents, but today he was especially broken. He forcefully slammed his torso into Mabel who was unfazed by her brothers aggressive plea for attention, she simply wrapped an arm around his shoulder before draping the comfort blanket over him.

The two sat, marinating in the humid heat of the car, one window open just enough so they wouldn't suffocate in the mid summer heat of Gravity Falls. The silence drilled into Dippers head, maybe it was the blanket draped over his shoulders causing to much heat, was he getting heat stroke? No, he knew what heat stroke felt like, this most likely wasn't it, he sat up before twisting around a bit so his feet would be pressed against the window Mabel sat by, his torso on leather seating.

"Moms gonna kill you if you scratch the window." Mabel said, Dipper opted to rest his legs on the headrest behind Mabel who didn't seem to mind as she slouched against the window, one leg dropped nearly to floor behind the drivers seat, which was opposite to her, the other one resting on Dippers abdomen.

Dipper tossed the blanket on Mabel who tossed it back, they sat tossing a balled up blanket back and forth until their parents arrived and gave them the key to their room. The two rushed to reach their AC filled room, they found the key wouldn't fit perfectly due to the extreme heat causing the metal to expand. They took turns jamming the key into the door trying to unlock it, Mabel got closest to unlocking it before putting out a hand expectantly, Dipper reluctantly handing her the spare bobby pin he had learned to keep on hand.

When Mabel swung open the door they were greeted with a gust of chilling wind, they both heaved a sigh of relief as they dashed inside, Dipper ending up on the pullout couch before Mabel could take the preferred bedding. Mabel found herself throwing a half frozen root beer to Dipper who was greeted with an aluminum can to the face, he groaned in pain before popping the tab and taking a long slurp. Mabel swung her legs over the end of her bed, a can of orange crush in her hand, tongue stained the shade after she finished chugging the can with a satisfied sigh.

"You want to go to the Mystery Shack, right?" Mabel asked, the sudden question shocking Dipper into snapping up, ending up spilling soda on his shirt in the process, he quickly shed his orange shirt before the liquid could hit his skin.

"Yeah, kind of, but, I mean," Dipper said as he put his soda on the carpeted floor, tossing his now sticky shirt somewhere else. "But it got taken away from society when we could've kept it going."

"Dipper, we were fourteen-" Mabel tried to counter, be cut off sharply by dipper.

"Legal in some parts of Canada!" Dipper snapped, pointing a finger at his sister in an accusatory manner, Mabel rolled her eyes, Dipper giving a weak 'Sorry.' before lying down once again, propping his head on the arm rest at an angle that would cause problems later, he wished he could go back to working at the Mystery Shack like the good days, but no, just cause Stan got hospitalized the family business got driven into the dirt.

"Dip, do you want to go to the Mystery Shack or not?" Mabel asked sharply, Dipper nodded, unable to muster a proper vocal answer.

"Yeah, I do, but it's locked up." Dipper said with a sigh as he reached for a light blanket and turned away from Mabel, pulling the blanket over his head as he did so.

"I'm sure we could just, break in." Mabel offered, Dipper sat up slowly, still draped in blanket.

"Mabel, thats illegal." Was all Dipper had to say with a sigh of disappointment.

"Technically it's family property." Mabel stated as a counter argument, that gathered Dippers attention fully, he practically jumped to his feet as he tore through his suitcase for a fresh shirt.

"Then pack your fucking bag, let's go." Dipper said matter of factly before Mabel grabbed her backpack, emptying a few unneeded items, making sure she kept a battery pack, why she had one, no one was quite sure, but she knew she would need it one day.

---

Here we find Dipper and Mabel alike standing at the bottom of a chain link fence, barbed wire coiled in spirals at the top. Dipper put out a hand, Mabel handed him a pair wire clippers, he started working at the lowest possible row of wires, leaving only a foot to crawl through, up and down. Mabel crawled through first, able to slide through with ease, Dipper ended up ruining his hat

"Wow," Was all Dipper had to say. "They really let this place go to shit."

"Yeah man, they abandoned this place." Mabel said, nudging her brother with her elbow, smirking a bit before walking to the front door, Dipper followed close behind.

"Mabel, they didn't leave the door unlocked," Dipper said, Mabel jiggled the handle until it gave way and fell from its socket, that's certainly welcoming. "Mabel, you broke the door handle."

"I'm sure we'll be fine." Mabel said before pulling open the door slowly, a loud creak sounding off as rusted hinges fought to stay shut.

The two were greeted with a cloud of dust and a room coated in webs, some cob and others active. Oddly enough the light shining in from windows was enough to keep the room well lit, they even found that most of the souvenirs were still in place. Out of sheer curiosity, Dipper attempted to turn on the lights, finding the bulb flickered aggressively in an attempt to stay on, enough electricity for just barely one bulb.

"Mabel, can I have that battery pack," Dipper asked, Mabel gave a questioning look at his brothers question. "Please give me the battery pack, Mabel."

"Alright, I'll be on the roof if you need me." Mabel said before handing Dipper the battery pack and jumper cables, one can't simply go without the other.

"Kay, I'll be downstairs if you need me." Dipper said before sliding the battery pack and jumper cables into his own bag, tossing Mabel a can of cream soda, she caught it before walking up the now breaking ladder, Dipper heading to the basement.

Dipper pushed open the door slowly, finding that their was no light in the basement and the stairs faded into darkness. With a sigh he reached for his flashlight and flicked the switch, a cone of light shining down and lighting the way. The roof and stairs were covered in webbing, all of which cob, along with sticky and dried substances, he chose to believe were spilled pop. He took one step onto the first step, a loud creak sounded off, one that could've turned to a crack, he was lucky it didn't as he stepped further down.

When he reached the last step he realized how cold it was, he blindly reached for a light switch, flicking on the single light. It wasn't exactly bright, but it helped, he started on his way to the closest lamp that shone more light than the actual light in the basement. He found that nothing much had changed from what he remembered, one item was underneath a sheet though, and without anything better to do in an abandoned basement, he reached for the sheet and yanked it off.

Dipper was greeted with the sight of the old copy machine, the one that could copy human flesh and bring life to it.

He remembered what this machine had caused, he hated to think of it, he knew three and four were probably still out their living their best lives, none the wiser to Stans case.

He kicked the copy machine with a grumble, never wanting to see it again.

But, he might as well see if it still works, he did miss his copies.

He pulled off his bag before crouching and pulling out the needed items to try and jump start it. He unplugged the machine before hooking up each jumper cable to their respective location, unsure if this was even a mildly ok idea. Without a second thought he started the battery pack, everything was silent before the machine started to hum in contentment as electricity started to flow.

Shakily was how he lifted the lid of the machine, it snapped off, he hoped he could fix that as well. Hoping it wouldn't break under his weight he hopped on and laid down on his back, pressing the button on the side of the machine. He took note of the how the green strip of light tingled against his skin despite the vest and pants he wore, he had to refrain from squirming as his genetics were copied.

He heard the sound of paper being shot out as the green light shut off, he slid off the glass screen before waiting for the paper to finish printing.

As the paper fluttered down to the floor he stood expectantly for something good to happen.

Dipper sat on the creaking floor as he waited, nothing happened for quite some time, maybe he was wrong hoping that the old thing would work. He picked up the paper and held it in front of him, nearly dropping it when the copy started to push from the paper, he did fall back when he was hit with the full weight of his double. The internally rotting floorboards nearly snapped under their combined weight, they shared a look of fear.

They both scrambled to move from the floorboard, Tyrone ending up slamming himself into the copy machine, he gave a weak groan as his still forming body ached. Dipper ended up knocking the lamp off the edge of the counter, the bulb shattered with a high pitched sound as the metal cooled and dimmer. The two sat in near perfect darkness and silence, relatively heavy breathing the only thing that could be heard.

Tyrones heart beat pounded in his ears, suddenly back again after so long, how long had been out for?

Oh, he was confused.

He couldn't believe he had been brought back, a swarm of fresh memories hit him. His confusion turned to grief and stress in a second as he crossed his arms loosely.

"So, I guess you've forgiven me after so long." Tyrone said as he stood up, plain blue and white cap in his hands.

"Yeah, one could put things that way." Dipper said before standing up, rubbing one of his arms nervously.

"Ha, it's kind of awkward you know, I haven't been in existence for so long, yet, I'm back again, in your time of need, again," Tyrone said nervously, looking to the side as he rolled his eyes. "If you could call Grunkle Stan dying in a hospital a time of need."

"Guess so, it's been really rough lately, and I guess I wanted to see someone who would understand." Dipper said quietly.

"Do you want a hug or something?" Tyrone asked, considering he had only existed for only four and a half hours, he had no clue what was socially acceptable in this situation, didn't help he was Dipper, that only made things worse.

Dipper nodded slowly, nearly on the verge of crying, if it weren't for the distance he would've felt safe to body slam Tyrone as a hug substitute. Instead of a body slam he took a running start, knocking Tyrone back onto the printer, the battery kicked out of the way in the process. The edge of the printer dug into Tyrones back, but he didn't complain, simply attempted to comfort Dipper instead, not one hundred percent sure of how.

"Hey Dipper, do you have any more cream soda?!" Mabel shouted down the stairs as she slowly stepped down, coming to a complete halt when she reached the bottom.

Ever so slowly she raised her phone, smirk growing wider as Tyrone silently begged her not to, she ignored his silent plea as she snapped the picture.

"I guess my brothers gay for his clone."

"Mabel, this is nothing like what it looks like."

"Sure."

[megamindsecretlair]

Yall I can’t stop thinking bout Fontaine. Like quiet but nasty ass freak deek Fontaine. Who’s obsessed with his lil shy (secretly equally nasty) gf and her glasses.

Fontaine has a need to cum on her glasses literally anytime she gives him head.

It plays in his head every time she finds herself on her knees for him. But he’s too scared it’ll be too much for reader. Till one day (completely incidental) it happens

Corruption kink go brrrrrr. My mind ain’t took it no further than that quite yet but the fundamentals are set up 😭

Anyway ♥️ freak deek Fontaine 😩

A/N: I see ya'll with these asks! Forgive me for combining them.

You Already Know

Pairing: Fontaine x Glasses!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Smut, fluff, cursing, PIV, fingering (female receiving), nipple play, dirty talk, oral (male receiving) all consensual. Apologies to those with peanut allergies, lactose intolerant, or just don't like milk.

Summary: See asks.

Word Count: 2,974k

AO3 Link

A/N: John has got to STOP with all these workout vids and pics. He is TEWW fine. Please enjoy the brainrot with me!!!! Toss a coin to your blogger by commenting, reblogging, or leaving an unhinged ask.

“What you doin,’ baby?” Fontaine asked when he freshened up after being outside all day and night. He came home roughly twenty minutes ago, smelling like outside. He gave you a quick kiss and made a beeline to the shower because he knew that you liked him most when he smelled clean and fresh.

Silly man. You’d suck his dick even if he was filthy and outside all day. You’d bend over if he walked in the house, covered in God knew what, and told you to assume the position. You just weren’t always good at expressing that.

You looked up from the couch to see him standing in the doorway, leaning against his arm. He wore a black tank and black basketball shorts, tattoos on full display and his mouth gleaming with those gold grills you love so much. You sighed as you stared, taking in his physique and his stance. 

“Just watching a movie,” you said, fixing your glasses to get a better look at him. It was either smudges in the way or your body was starting to overheat looking at that hunk of man. It still blew your mind. You got to kiss and claim that man any time you wanted.

“What you watchin’? You hungry?” He asked. He straightened up and rubbed his stomach. He’d been hitting the gym a lot more lately, needing to bulk up to deal with his enemies out in the streets. Your one rule with him was that he always came home. No matter what he had to do. 

“I’m okay,” you said. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him. You had been sitting here, enjoying your day off doing absolutely fuckin’ nothing, and was perfectly fine. The minute Fontaine walked in, you’d had an entire ache in your lower belly.

“When’s the last time you ate?” He asked.

You hummed to yourself and then looked at the clock beneath the TV. You paused the movie, since you weren’t watching, and hummed some more.

“That’s too long. I’ma make us some sandwiches,” he said. 

You called after him but he was already heading down the hall to the kitchen. You heard the cabinets and drawers banging around as he went to work. What was it with men and sandwiches? You giggled and shook your head, trying to lay back down and still be comfortable with your glasses on. 

Maybe you ought to switch to contacts. Just once, you’d like to be able to lay on your side and still see the TV. You hummed and thought it over. Naw, Fontaine seemed completely against the idea of contacts. He liked your glasses and you happened to like them too. But still. 

A few minutes later, Fontaine came into the room carrying two plates with sandwiches and cups of milk. Well, yours could be classified as a sandwich. His was some kind of tower. He had multiple layers of peanut butter sticking out from between his bread slices. You shook your head at him as he placed the cups down on the wooden coffee table.

“Thank you, baby. I will never know where you put all that,” you said. You sat up on the couch and the blue and pink plaid throw blanket slid to your lap. You put your cold feet on the ground. Even after being under the covers all day, your feet were still icy. 

Fontaine leaned down and kissed your forehead, making you tingle all over. Then, he sat on the couch beside you and handed you your plate. Extra peanut butter, just as you liked it. You took a big bite and moaned at the taste. It’d been too long since you had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. 

“Right down the hatch, my love. What you watchin’?” He asked.

You told him you were watching Damsel on Netflix, told him who was in it, and a brief synopsis. “But what you feel like watching?” You asked. 

“Naw, put that on,” he said. He chewed and you watched the way his jaw flexed. Your boyfriend was so serious all the time. Oftentimes quiet. That was initially what drew you to him in the first place. So few men were quiet. 

“Are you sure?” You asked. Your man was more into Black cinema or action movies. Something like this, starring the little white girl from Stranger Things, was not on his list of must sees. 

“I’m sure. C’mon. I just wanna snuggle with my girl,” he said. He glanced at you and his eyes softened. 

You grinned, cheeks hurting with the effort. You bumped your shoulder to his and then kissed his massive shoulder. You took a tiny hint of his scent. Crisp mountain air. You also got to admire his body up close.

The absolutely disgusting, filthy, animalistic things you wanted to do to this man. He had no clue. Sadly, because you started stuttering and mumbling whenever you began thinking of all of your dirty fantasies. Let alone try to tell him about it so he could do those things to you.

“You know I always wanna snuggle with you. But we can turn it off whenever you want,” you said.

He took a huge bite out of his sandwich, already halfway done and you’d only taken a few bites. He licked his lips, licking away peanut butter that you desperately wanted to do for him. 

“Naw, how far you get?” He asked. He licked his thumb and used his clean fingers to toggle the remote and show the remaining time. You were only fifteen minutes into it. You kept pausing to listen to the shower, to see how long he was going to take. 

“You mind running it back?” He asked.

You shook your head and then lapsed into comfortable silence with your man. You started the movie over and scooted back on the couch.  

Fontaine finished his in about three bites, sitting back with a satisfied sigh. He spread his arms around the arm and back of the couch, man spreading and bumping your knee with his. You finished your sandwich a lot slower, enjoying the feel of him next to you. 

Everywhere he touched, just lit up another dirty fantasy in your mind. Taking him in your mouth, taking him from behind. Or him tying you up and having his way with you. The possibilities were endless. 

You had to finish sometime, so you polished off the last bite and chased it with the rest of the milk. You smacked your lips and stretched. Fontaine grabbed your shoulders and you squeaked.

“Fontaine!” You said and tapped his arm. He chuckled and grabbed you anyway, pulling you to lay against him. 

“My bad, baby,” he said, sounding anything but sorry.

You pushed your glasses back up your nose and kissed his chin. He grinned and kissed your temple. You settled back against him, getting lost into the movie. Angela Bassett always looked damn good. Just radiant and glowing all the time. You admired seeing a Black woman in a fantasy gown, when Fontaine shifted.

Wordlessly, you followed his lead, standing up so that he could stretch out on the couch. He pulled you by the hand to lay next to him and you giggled softly. Once you were in front of him, you pulled the throw blanket over both of your legs. 

He shook out his right foot with a groan and then both you nudged and pushed until you were both comfortable. You focused back on the movie, loving how pretty it was. 

Throughout the movie, Fontaine was more into it than you were. He was asking you questions. He knew you didn’t like to spoil but you got a thrill whenever he was genuinely into your little movie. 

You sighed and adjusted yourself on the couch, pushing your ass into his dick. A low groan escaped him and he put his hand on your hip to keep you from moving. But you felt that bulge on your ass. You adjusted again, intentionally rubbing your ass. He groaned again, putting more strength behind his grip and stilling your movements.

“Alright, now,” he said.

You giggled and adjusted your glasses, adjusting yourself one more time. He started to growl and you giggled again. “Okay, okay, I’ll stop,” you said. 

Fontaine hummed and slipped his hand under your pajama shirt. This was something new he started a few months ago, randomly slipping his hand underneath and grabbing your titty like a stress ball or something. He tried to pull it away then but you told him to keep it there, testing the waters. 

Fontaine only kissed behind your ear and had been slipping his hand underneath ever since. Mostly it wasn’t sexual, he just liked warming his hand underneath your titties. But other times….like now…Fontaine’s fingers found your nipples and he began to play with them. Rolling them between his fingers. Pinching.

You bit your lip, biting back the lewd moan that wanted to escape your throat. Your pussy throbbed. Pulsating at each tug of his fingers. You adjusted against his crotch, rubbing your ass against him.

He moaned but otherwise made no other sound acknowledging what you were doing. He continued to tug and rub, making you clench your thighs and rub them together. He moved his lips to your ear, letting you hear his breathing. His quiet moans. That tiny whimper. 

The movie swam in your vision. You were having trouble relaxing with Fontaine’s hands on you. His large arms around you. The heaviness of him. Your essence leaked out of you thinking of him on top. 

You continued to dry hump on him. Way more than what was necessary. You whimpered yourself, rubbing your ass against his growing hardness. Fontaine rolled your earlobe into his mouth, teasing it with his teeth and tongue. 

You whimpered more. Fontaine moved his fingers from your nipples, down your smooth stomach, and then slipped beneath your shorts and underwear. His fingers teased through your pussy lips, growling when he found you wet. 

The second his finger touched your clit, you finally moaned and pushed back into his dick. “Aw, my poor needy, baby,” he cooed in your ear. 

“‘Taine,” you moaned. 

“Watch the movie,” he said.

“I can’t,” you said.

“Watch the movie,” he said again, slowing his fingers. He dragged them lazily through your wet folds and you shivered in his touch.

You focused on the TV, focused on the middle of the movie where things were starting to look up for the main character. But Fontaine’s fingers were starting to pick up again, gathering up all your wet slick, making it echo in the tiny living room. 

Smacking noises grew louder as Fontaine played with your pussy. Your orgasm was always just out of reach. Every time you got close, when you started whimpering, grabbing hold of his wrist, he’d pull his fingers back and play with a different area.

Over and over, he got you close to the peak and then withdrew right before your orgasm took over. You were a whimpering mess, no longer caring about the damn movie. “‘Taine, please,” you moaned.

Fontaine stuck his thumb in your mouth, his massive arm coming around your neck and squeezing. You sucked and whimpered around his thumb, wrapping your lips and sucking hard like you wanted to do to his dick. 

Fontaine moved his fingers faster, harder, flicking against your clit with all your slickness. You were so wet. So loud. You whimpered and cried, opening your mouth further to moan and move your hips. 

“Look at that ass go,” Fontaine said in your ear. “You ain’t as innocent as you claim, huh?” He asked.

You nodded. You were innocent. But this mind of yours? Oh, it was always on demon time. You passed time thinking of sex with your man. Thinking of him bending you over in inappropriate places and threatening anybody that looked. You daydreamed of him pulling your hair while giving lethal backshots. 

He plunged his fingers into your pussy, pushing two deep. You cried out, but willingly accepted his fingers. “Oh, god,” you moaned while your orgasm rushed through you like a rapid river. You were a leaf, pulled along the current.

You whined and moaned, a crying, loud sound. You trapped his hand between your legs. Your body was out of your control, shaking and twitching. Fuck, you couldn’t even breathe. 

You sucked in air as you finally came down and your pussy stopped spasming. Your thighs relaxed and Fontaine slipped his fingers out with a deep hum. He made sure all five of his fingers grazed your sensitive clit on his way out. You twitched and moaned.

Fontaine’s chuckle was low and deep as he licked his fingers. “Get on them knees for me, baby,” he said.

You nodded. Not an ounce of strength in your body but you managed to slide off of the couch. Fontaine sat up and opened his legs on either side of you. You scooted in between, rubbing his thighs and biting your lips. 

“Fuck, you look sexy like this,” he said. He pulled his underwear off and slid them down his thighs. You didn’t want to wait that long. You leaned down and took his dick in your hands, wrapping it around his base.

He groaned and looked at you. “Do what you did yesterday,” he said and licked his lips. 

Your pussy clenched and you scooted closer. You got low to his tip and watched him as you kissed his tip. He bit his lip and moaned, jutting his hips out. 

You took him into your mouth and sucked on him like a lollipop. You slobbered and slurped it up, rolling your tongue around his tip. “Fuuuck,” he groaned. 

He kept moving his hands. Either they were clenched, or he was cracking his knuckles, or he crossed his arms. You watched his face, fighting to keep his eyes open. But also fighting something else? Was he okay?

You took his dick out and used your hands to get his shaft wet. “Are you okay?” You asked.

Fontaine nodded. “That mouth of yours,” he panted. 

You giggled. “You can put your hands on me, you know,” you said quietly, not quite looking at his face anymore.

“Are you sure?” He asked. 

You nodded, looking towards what you were doing to his dick. He stilled your hands. “Aye, look at me and use your words,” he demanded.

You looked at him. Looked at how serious he was. “Yes, I’m sure,” you said. 

Fontaine grinned. Now, isn’t that better?”

“You don’t have to be gentle with me all the time,” you said. 

Fontaine tilted his head. He moved his hand to caress your cheek. “Okay, but only if you tell me when I do something you don’t like,” he said. 

You nodded and grinned at him. “Then put that dick back in your mouth,” he said, tilting his head down and narrowing his eyes.

You squeaked and went back to work, slapping your lips with his dick. He groaned and moved his hips again. You spat on his dick and then sucked it back down, bobbing your head. You were done with teasing. You put your hands on his thighs for structure and then set a good pace.

Fontaine’s hands gripped your jaw and pulled you down faster, pushing his dick deeper. You slobbered on him, feeling it drip down your chin and hit your shirt. Pre-cum leaked into your mouth and you hummed at the salty taste of him. 

“Fuck, that’s it. Fuck, that’s good. Suck that shit,” he moaned. 

Your eyes were locked to each other as he used your mouth. As he pumped your head up and down on his long, thick dick. You moaned as he forgot to be gentle, slipped past some barrier in his mind, as he shoved your mouth down.

Your pussy throbbed painfully. Aching with emptiness as your mouth got to enjoy his dick. Your jaw hurt a little but you kept going, kept matching his energy. He hit the back of your throat and you almost gagged. He pulled your head back but his dick jumped at the sounds you were making. You spit on his dick, licked your lips, and then suckled him back down. You let him go with a wet pop and then started pumping him with your hand while you sucked one ball into your mouth. 

“I’m finna bust,” he groaned. You kept going, kept stroking him down so that when he was close, you could suck it down like usual. But he was already trying to slow you down. 

Fontaine moaned and came all over your face. Most of it got on your glasses and you shrieked in surprise. It was warm, splashing your face in random spots. On your forehead, probably in your hair, and on your chin. 

Fontaine’s moan was cut short as he panted. “Shit, I’m sorry!” 

You blinked at him, staring at him through the cum sliding down the frames. The closest drop was right at the corner of your mouth. The cum turned cold fast, but it wasn’t unpleasant. You stuck your tongue out and licked his cum from your face.

You moaned, trying to lick up more. Fontaine groaned and you turned back to him. You took off your glasses and threw it on the couch. You smiled sweetly at him as you cleaned up the cum on the tip of his dick.

“Clean it up real good,” he demanded, leaning back into the couch.

You nodded. “Yes, baby,” you said. You sucked him down and he groaned, his hands going back to your head and pushing you down on his dick.

 “Just wait ‘till it’s my turn, baby,” he said with a dark chuckle. 

The end.

You already know! The Secret Tyrone Files

Taglist:

@planetblaque @dayjlovesromance @logansblackgf @melaninpov @amyhennessyhouse

@henneseyhoe @justheretostan @black-fairy3 @superhoeva @jarfulloftears

@hereformiles @montysstuffs @westside-rot @blackerthings @blowmymbackout

@euphoric05 @miyuhpapayuh @nicolexnight @8ttached @judymfmoody

@notapradagurl7 @soft-persephone @justabovewater20 @sageispunk @soapjay

@heyauntieeee @theyscreamsannii @eggnox @honeytoffee @thadelightfulone

@tranquilfandomer @kindofaintrovert @l-auteuse @browngirldominion @sunkissedebony97

@lovedlover @issahyland @umber-cinders @longpause-awkwardsmile @insburner

@slippinninque @thecookiebratz @we-outsiiiide @iv0rysoap @amethyst09

@ciaqui @harmshake @00aijia00 @ms-angiealsina @satoruya

[megamindsecretlair]

smut request : reader being so h-word, she wakes Tyrone up in the middle of the night.

A/N: It's okay to say the full word here. Reader woke up HORNY on DEMON TIME.

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

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. PWP, PIV, Fingering (fem receiving), oral (male and female receiving) cursing, use of N word, Dirty talk. Non-inclusive language used. Rough sex, slight Daddy kink.

Summary: You were unable to sleep. No amount of techniques like counting sheep or thinking of the DMV will help. The only thing that will help put you to sleep is waking Tyrone up and letting him do his thing.

Word Count: 3,203k

A/N: This had been sitting long enough and I finally had some time to write it! How did this tag list get so long???? I don't tag ageless blogs. Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! Ageless blogs get blocked.

Taglist: @planetblaque @dayjlovesromance @sevikasblackgf @melaninpov @amyhennessyhouse @henneseyhoe @justheretostan @black-fairy3 @superhoeva @jarfulloftears @hereformiles @montysstuffs @westside-rot @blackerthings @blowmymbackout @euphoric05 @miyuhpapayuh @nicolexnight @8ttached @judymfmoody @notapradagurl7 @soft-persephone @justabovewater20 @sageispunk @soapjay @heyauntieeee @theyscreamsannii @eggnox @honeytoffee @thadelightfulone @tranquilfandomer @kindofaintrovert @l-auteuse @browngirldominion @sunkissedebony97 @lovedlover @issahyland @umber-cinders @longpause-awkwardsmile @insburner @slippinninque @thecookiebratz @we-outsiiiide @iv0rysoap @amethyst09 @ciaqui @harmshake @nworbaij @ms-angiealsina @satoruya

You tried. Honestly, you did. And if Tyrone asked you about it later, you’d swear up and down that you tried going to sleep but you just weren’t able to. You thought that if you closed your eyes, you’d be able to convince your brain to go on and relax.

You laid there, staring at the back of your eyelids, trying to dream up any number of made up scenarios. You tried counting sheep, you tried being rational. You tried thinking of boring things like the DMV or waiting in a long line. You thought of your coworking droning on and on about bullshit you didn’t care about.

Nothing worked. And what was worse, your groin was on fire with need. A burning need that made your pussy ache and limbs tingle. You thought something was wrong with you the first couple of times this happened, but by now, you just knew that you were properly addicted to Tyrone’s dick.

He wielded it like a painter with a brush, a writer with a keyboard, or a samurai with a sword. He took that shit seriously. It was incredible. You’d never known someone so dedicated to the craft of sex.

He snored softly next to you. Not loud enough to disturb your sleep, but enough to know that he was beside you and still breathing. You couldn’t see him in the dark. He hated sleeping with any type of light on.

You imagined that you could see his face while sleeping. The delicate lines of his face. His big lips. His wide nose. Imagining his features was just as bad as actually looking at him.

One look from him and you were ready to drop your panties and let him do what he wanted to you. Being his sex object was one of the most freeing experiences ever. And you needed more.

You went to bed on an incredible orgasm, cumming so loud that he covered your mouth with his big hand and let you scream in peace. “Shh, we don’t need them niggas calling the pigs,” he had whispered in your ear while he was still pumping into you. 

You shivered. Fuck, you needed him again. You knew that you needed to wait this out. Or go to the bathroom to shower and handle it yourself. However, your addiction ran deeper than that. It wasn’t satisfied by cheap imitations. Your fingers weren’t big enough or long enough, not like his. Your vibrator wasn’t big enough or powerful enough to get you there. 

You flipped onto your side, holding your breath in the too still room. You snaked your hand across Tyrone’s thick chest. He slipped on briefs and a tank top before you went to bed. Or maybe it was after? You passed out after he filled your pussy with his cum. 

He didn’t move or acknowledge your hand on him. He continued to breathe deeply. You moved your hand lower, playing with the edge of his briefs. You two had talked about waking each other up to head or teasing, but neither one of you had been brave enough to cross that line yet.

You wanted to, desperately. You scooted closer to him, close enough to plant your lips next to his ear. “Baby…” You quietly sang in his ear. You started to tongue the lobe of his ear, softly sucking it into your mouth. Your hand ventured under his briefs, teasing his dick into your hand. 

His snoring stopped for a bear before continuing again. You took a deep breath and hoped he wouldn’t hate you while you began to stroke him. Just enough to feel you on him. You supposed your biggest fear was that he’d wake up in a panic, swinging his arms at a perceived threat and accidentally hit you. 

You knew it’d tear him up inside and you knew that your circle of family and friends were looking for an excuse for you to get rid of Tyrone. They believed that he was a thug, a gangster, and bad news. Yes, he had tattoos. Yes, he had a teardrop under his right eye. You loved to lick it while you were riding him. 

For his safety, you didn’t want to scare him awake. But the way you were needy at the moment trumped everything. You just wanted him back inside. When he was inside you, the world made sense. You connected to some primal, feminine energy while he was and god, you needed to feel whole again.

“Tyrone,” you said, a bit louder. You gripped the base of his dick, like you knew he liked. You massaged his dick and then moved on to his balls, rubbing the right side. The side that you knew made him twitch and earn you a moan. 

Tyrone’s voice grumbled in the back of his throat. You kissed on his neck and then down his chest. You bit in certain places, only hard enough to pull him from his dreams. Tyrone’s dick twitched in your hand, so you kept going. 

You freed his dick from his briefs, licking your lips. You couldn’t see him. But fuck, you could feel him. And smell that husky musk of him. You wrapped your lips around his thick head, sucking him in and teasing his head.

Tyrone grunted and shifted, flattening out on the bed to give you better access. He didn’t say anything, so you weren’t sure if he was conscious yet. You kept going at the invitation, letting your saliva coat his dick.

Your sucking turned louder and more lewd, sloppily slurping the tip of his dick. “Mf-fuck,” Tyrone grumbled.

You adjusted your head, turning to suck more of him down. All the way to the base. He was so velvet smooth and hard as steel in your mouth. His tip brushed against your cheeks. You flicked your tongue across his tip and he jerked his hips forward.

“Hey baby,” you said around his dick.

“Don’t talk with ya mouth full,” he said. His voice was rough with sleep. Deeper. You nodded on his dick so that he knew you understood and went back to sucking him. 

You fondled his balls while you did so, finding a comfortable rhythm for you. Tyrone jerked his hips, fucking your mouth in unison like he wanted you to take more of him. You obliged, taking him as deep as you were able to without gagging. 

Your pussy throbbed and ached, getting turned on at the prospect of doing a good job. Of pleasing him. His answering grunts and shuttered breathing let you know that he was close. His massive hands gripped your neck, careful of your bonnet and pulled you lower.

You moaned. He answered in kind. “Almost there,” he whispered. You increased your strokes, taking him faster and deeper until he was nearly bottomed out in your mouth. You relaxed your jaw, letting him fuck you how he needed.

“Uhn-fuuuck,” he groaned. His dick pulsed as cum filled your mouth. You swallowed it all down, greedily, tongue darting past your swollen lips to get more of it.

Tyrone’s panting was all that you could hear as you straightened up in bed, wiping the corners of your mouth. 

“Are you okay?” You asked. You got to your knees and scooted forward, rubbing his stomach. Tyrone’s breaths began to even out. You had no warning before Tyrone flipped you onto your stomach.

One minute you were facing him and the next minute, you were pushed onto your stomach while Tyrone positioned himself behind you. He leaned on your back, placing his lips next to your ear. 

“What you doing, waking Daddy up outta his sleep?” He asked. He didn’t sound angry, but still…

“I’m sorry! I need you!” You yelled.

You wiggled your ass for emphasis against his groin. You felt his bulge thicken against the back of your legs and you wiggled again. If he stuck his hand between your legs, he’d see how fucking horny you were. You fell asleep naked, so there was nothing but his briefs preventing you from what you wanted most.

“Oh, you need Daddy’s dick?” He asked. He didn’t move. He didn’t touch you. He continued to place his lips against your ear, licking the shell of your ear and causing a shiver to run down your spine. The sensation ought to be unpleasant, but fuck, it only made you burn more.

“Please,” you whispered. You wished that you could see his face. See what kind of reaction you were going to get. Tyrone liked keeping you on your toes. Not in a mean way. He just wanted you to get used to any surprises from him, which was a wonderful thing. It usually came in the form of unexpected gifts or sex.

Tyrone leaned up and then slapped your ass. The slap rang in the quiet room. Heat bloomed on your ass. “Fuck!” You shivered.

“Didn’t I put you to sleep earlier?” Tyrone asked. He rubbed the spot where he slapped. It was weird that he was able to do way more than you could without light. You needed light for everything. Tyrone was like a damn vampire, he preferred big lights to be off whenever possible. 

“Yes!” You yelled. He slapped your ass again and you pitched forward. Tyrone grabbed your hips and pulled you back into his dick. 

“So you sayin’ I ain’t do my job the first time?” He asked. 

“Wha–” He smacked your ass a handful of times, each one harder than the last. You cried after every one, but the cries soon turned to moans as the sting settled into your skin and spread to your pussy. 

Your pussy throbbed, needing to be filled right this damn second. You wiggled your hips against his dick. “No! I’m sorry–I didn’t mean to say–”

Tyrone chuckled at your attempts to fumble over yourself explaining. You stopped trying and sighed. “You get on my nerves!” You yelled. You tried to move away from him. He kept an iron grip on your hips, chuckling away.

“I get on your nerves? You woke me up for some dick,” he said.

“Not anymore, move!” You said. This was why you didn’t initiate shit. You always felt silly trying to act sexy and desirable. But Tyrone had mentioned that he liked when you made the first move, because it was hard to tell if you truly were in the mood or simply going along for his benefit.

Tyrone didn’t move. He trailed one finger through your wet heat, stilling you instantly. Your bottom lip quivered from that contact alone. “This don’t feel like you want me to move. You sure?” He asked.

He pushed that finger inside you and it was enough to make you arch your back, putting your ass in the air, and spreading yourself for him. That brief flash of hurt was quickly replaced with desire as he finally touched you. 

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to tease. But fuck! Not everyday you surprise me, baby,” he said. He fucked you with that single finger, listening to all the ways you whimpered and moaned. You felt so fucking good, but it wasn’t enough. You wanted more.

“Moreee,” you groaned out. Tyrone only chuckled. He pulled his finger out and swirled your dripping juices around your clit. You moaned, lungs burning with all the heavy breathing you were doing. 

He pushed his finger back inside, fucking you slowly. “Fuuck, please, Tyrone,” you pleaded. You didn’t want nice and steady at the moment.

“Tell me what you need then,” he said. 

“You. I want your dick inside me,” you said.

“I was already inside you. Or do you want more cum down that pretty throat?” He asked. You clenched around his finger and Tyrone groaned.

“You like when I talk nasty, huh?” He asked.

You nodded, realized he couldn’t see you, and then you grunted. “Yes, baby, I love it,” you whimpered. 

“You want more cum down your throat? Or you want me to fill up this sexy ass pussy?” He asked. You clenched around his finger once more, almost unsure which one to pick. You loved having him in your mouth. Loved delivering a tenth of the pleasure he gave you. But you didn’t wake him up just to give him head.

“Fill up my pussy,” you breathed.

“I ain’t hear you,” he said. 

“Fill up my pussy,” you stated again, cheeks starting to burn.

“I must still be sleep. I can’t hear shit,” Tyrone said.

You smiled, despite yourself. You hated him. You loved him. “Fill my pussy up!” You yelled.

“Aight damn, no need to shout. First, you gotta pay for making me cum before you,” he said.

“What! You said we could wake each other up with head!” You yelled.

“Fuck that gotta do with making me cum before you?” He asked. You could hear the smile in his voice. He scooted back, moving the covers off of the bed. He dropped lower, onto his belly, and then pulled your thighs closer to him. 

He nosed his way through your wet folds, using his thumbs to spread you apart. “Fuck, you smell so good,” he moaned. “All wet and dripping for me. Finna eat like a king tonight.”

You whimpered while his lips finally teased your entrance. You cried while his tongue explored your folds, seeking out your clit. You moaned while he began to tongue you down from the back, teasing and licking you. 

Fuck, his tongue needed to be studied. Because with a few simple licks and teases, you were ready to explode. “Let me hear you,” Tyrone said in between licking you. 

You moaned louder, sighing with every pleasurable lick and suckle of his lips. His sucking was loud, ringing in your ears. You gushed more into his mouth and he groaned, slapping your ass in pleasure. 

“Fuck, Tyrone! I’m gonna…I’m gonna…” You came with a loud yell, shaking and twitching while he groaned and continued eating you out. Your sensitive clit rebelled but your brain loved that he kept going. 

When the last shiver left you, Tyrone stopped with a satisfied hum. “Taste so fuckin’ good,” he said. He left sloppy kisses on your ass while he got to his knees. 

He pushed two fingers inside you and you yelled out, swinging one of your hands behind you. Tyrone grabbed your wrist and pinned it to your back. You were using your other arm for precarious balance so you couldn’t risk trying to push him away with that arm. 

“Naw, baby, relax on that shit,” he cooed at you while he continued to drive his fingers inside your wet pussy. You flooded his fingers down to the knuckle, he moved with ease inside of you. 

“Ty-please,” you moaned. 

“This what you wanted right?” He asked.

“Fuckfuckfuck,” you moaned. He was right. This was what you wanted. For this burning ache to leave you. This first orgasm took the edge off, but he was driving you right back there the more he pumped his fingers in. 

“I need…your dick…inside of me,” you moaned.

“Oh! Is that what you need?” Tyrone asked, humor lacing every inch of his words. He knew full well what you needed and opted to torture you instead. 

Tyrone withdrew his fingers, licking up your essence. He moaned, and then shifted behind you. He got off of the bed and shifted some more. Then, he fumbled for your hips before yanking you backwards.

You yelped as he positioned himself behind you. You were at the end of the bed, hanging off of the corner. There were precious few inches from your knee sliding off of the bed completely. 

Tyrone stepped closer, grabbed his dick, and ran it through your wet folds. You moaned. “Yesyesyesyesyes,” you moaned as he coated the tip of his dick. Then he pushed forward and your eyes bugged out, screaming for him.

Tyrone groaned, low and deep as he planted himself, balls deep inside. “Fuuuuck,” he groaned. “You always grip this shit so well.” 

Pleasure hummed through your veins. Tyrone moved slowly, getting the rest of his dick well and truly soaking with your essence. He groaned with every deep stroke, with every tortured sigh you gave him. 

He dropped his head down to your neck and licked up the sweat gathered there. He dropped kisses to your back and ear. He leaned one arm down on the bed, close to your head. His other hand gripped your hip while he stroked. 

“I need it harder, baby,” you moaned.

Tyrone stroked harder, hitting a deep spot inside of you that only he could reach. Your eyes crossed and your mouth dropped open. Fuuuck, yess, that was all you needed.

You moaned harder, throwing your ass back to meet his thrusts. “That’s right baby, fight for that shit. Fight for what you need,” he coaxed in your ear.

“Faster?” You moaned.

“You asking or telling me?” He asked.

“Faster!” You yelled out. 

Tyrone chuckled, kissed your shoulder, and then stood back up. He gripped your hips in his hands once more and then started hammering away at your pussy. You screamed, fingers bunching the sheets beneath you. 

“Just like that! Just like that!” You panted.

Tyrone growled, moving in and out of you like he was possessed. It felt as close to heaven as you were going to get. You felt wholly full and feminine and sweet and girly that your brain fritzed out and you were cumming with the violent force of a hurricane. 

Tyrone screamed with you, climaxing at the squeeze of your pussy. He drenched you in his cum. So much pulsed out of him that it started to leak out of you, running down the sides of your legs. 

Tyrone slowed down, still dragging his hips forward like they had a mind of their own. He finally slowed down and your legs shook. You couldn’t hold yourself up anymore. 

“Thank you, baby. Thank you,” you panted on the bed. You finally felt satiated. That raw, hungry need no longer pressing into your mind and making you feel crazy. You curled up like a kitten when Tyrone slipped out of you.

Tyrone kissed your shoulder and your back. He left the room, finding his way in the dark without issue. He returned with a warm towel, wiping away the worst of the stickiness. You hummed your appreciation.

Tyrone came back to the room and felt for you. “Now, can you let me get some sleep?” He asked you. He lifted you and placed you back in your original spot.

“Yes, Daddy, thank you,” you said, reaching for his cheeks and pulling him into a sweet kiss. He still faintly smelled like you and you grinned against his lips. “I love you,” you said.

“I love you too, baby. Get some sleep,” he said. 

He climbed into the bed with you, sliding his arm under your pillow, and then sidled up against your back. He felt like a personal heated blanket as your back warmed up deliciously. He planted one final kiss to your temple and then you drifted off peacefully into la la land.

I have *many* more Tyrone fics for you to enjoy! The Secret Tyrone Files

[megamindsecretlair]

Have Mercy

A/N: Based on this ask. It contained porno links. Whoever you are, ya nasty and I love you. This is a bit of a deviation so I'm sorry if it wasn't what you pictured! Thank you for the support!

Pairing: Pornstar!Tyrone x Black!Shy!Fem!reader / Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. FILTH for nearly 5k words! PWP, cursing, PIV, oral (fem receiving), cum play, possession kink, size kink, dirty talk, degradation/praise kink, Daddy kink, orgasm denial, overstimulation, all consensual. Use of n-word. Disrespectful Tyrone. Drug use. Established friendship.

Summary: After a very steamy porn video by Tyrone, you can't help your curious questions as you hang out and discuss his work. You'd been too shy to ask before, but you're dying to know what it's like in person.

Word Count: 5,284k

A/N: I was just waiting on the right spark to answer this ask. And...look, you all know how fuckin' feral I am for Tyrone. It's not a surprise. I promise 5k words is worth it. This was so fuckin' hot to write. I hope you enjoy it! Please, please, consider leaving a comment or reblogging to help support writers. I can't get better with no feedback!

Taglist: @planetblaque @dayjlovesromance @sevikasblackgf @melaninpov @amyhennessyhouse @henneseyhoe @honeyoriginalz @justheretostan @black-fairy3 @superhoeva @jarfulloftears @hereformiles @montysstuffs @westside-rot @blackerthings @blowmymbackout @euphoric05 @miyuhpapayuh @nicolexnight @8ttached @judymfmoody @wakandas-vibranium @soft-persephone @justabovewater20 @notapradagurl7 @mcotton0928 @soapjay @heyauntieeee @theyscreamsannii @mybonafidefeelings

“Okay, but like…they just kind of sit there and…” You stopped talking and started jerking your hand. You looked across the hazy space towards Tyrone. He was laying across the bed and looked at you down the blunt he held to his mouth. The orange-red spark glinted and then dimmed as he pulled it out. He licked his lips and then blew out the smoke.

“Shit, ion know. I do this shit myself,” Tyrone said. 

Tyrone passed the blunt and you grabbed it, bringing it to your lips and inhaling. You turned your head towards the ceiling, your eyes expanding. “So, you got a camera and microphones and shit?” You asked.

“Yeah,” Tyrone said and took the blunt from you. “Got to these days. If I’ma be rocking somebody’s shit, then everybody gon’ see it.” He brought the blunt to his lips and pulled on it. 

You tried to picture it. Your head was so blessedly silent for once. You actually formed a thought and kept it. Tyrone on the bed, naked. Showing off ropes and ropes of thick muscle. Arms strong enough to break coconuts. Thighs begging to be ridden. 

Your core heated up, a small tingle working up the back of your thighs. You bet he was the type to hold on and get to work. But you smirked at him and started to giggle. 

“You always talk that shit, Ty,” you said. Your giggles kept going, making your stomach hurt. You flattened your hand on your stomach. “Don’t make me laugh! My tummy hurt!” 

Tyrone stared at your high ass and smirked. Fuck. It took forever to make him laugh. Like the mu’fucka was born with ice down his throat. You longed to hear that rare, raspy laugh. 

“I talk big ‘cuz my dick big,” he said and huffed out a chuckle. It was barely enough to call it a laugh. 

The mention of his dick had you clenching your thighs. You’ve memorized the way Tyrone walked. He walked like he was swangin’ dick down there. Also, you’d never in a million years tell him, but you’ve seen his videos. 

You had second hand evidence that he was packin’. You have came plenty of times just to the sound of his voice on those videos. He rarely fucked the same girl twice. They were all different women; all Black women, and all thick Black women. 

You weren’t a snob. Sometimes you’d watch the woman getting their back blown out and wish it were you. But his voice. You were knee deep in his comments and he was gaining popularity just from his voice alone. 

You giggled again. “Where do you even find these women? You being safe?” You asked. You knew perfectly well that he fucked without a condom. Hell, you’d let him cum in you too. 

“I get checked every month and only fuck bitches that’s clean. Some hit me up. Some I find in the wild,” he said. 

He puffed on the blunt after you handed it back. Your body wasn’t floating but it felt like it. There was an all around hum on your body. 

“The wild? Like…damn, you just find women willing to have sex on camera and release it?” You never had enough courage to ask these questions before. But after last night’s video, you wanted to know. Your burning curiosity finally won out and started asking about it.

“You’d be surprised how many mu’fuckas wanna watch themselves. Some don’t wanna be seen. That’s fine. Hide they face and whatever. But the real nasty ones don’t cum unless the camera in they face,” he said. He released a cloud of smoke to join the rest.

You thought of being one of those women. Showing your face on camera for millions to gawk at. Cum to. You’d never in a million years…but the thought wasn’t terrible. There would be evidence that Tyrone fucked you and he’d control it. He could do anything with it.

“Do you rehearse and shit? Like do you know what you’re gonna say before?” You asked. 

“Hell naw,” he said and huffed again. 

He comes up with those filthy things on the spot? You bit your lip. Maybe…having sex with Tyrone wouldn’t be good. He’s a different breed. In a class all on his own. Sure, the videos could have told you that. But hearing it from the source? You weren’t so sure you wanted to find out what he was like. 

“You real curious tonight,” he said. The orange light from the blunt casted soft shadows over his face. 

You shrugged. “We ain’t talkin’ bout shit else,” you said. 

“You forget I know yo ass? You real curious,” he said. He looked at you skeptically. You looked right in his eyes. You were not going to give him an inch. You had years worth of experience pretending to not be in love with him. That every video wasn’t like a stab in the heart. 

He was making good money though and you weren’t gonna fuck with someone’s bag. So you kept your mouth shut. Pretended that you were just his friend. Just a friend. 

The bed shifted and Tyrone leaned closer to you. His eyes searched your face. He leaned in closer than he has ever been to you. His nose lightly grazed yours, making it both tingly and itchy. 

You swallowed hard and you knew you made a sound. Tyrone huffed, the breath fanning across your face.

“You trynna find out?” He asked. 

“Naw nigga,” you said. You didn’t know where this boldness came from. But your heart thundered in fear that he would learn your secret. You’d kept it so close to your heart for so long. It was like its own tiny dagger always piercing your heart. But sometimes removing it hurts you worse than keeping it in. If you opened your big mouth, you’d ruin this. This time spent together. 

Tyrone kissed your cheek. His lips lingering against your cheek as he spoke. “Every time I mention gettin’ down, you tell me I’m lyin’. So let me prove myself,” he said.

You giggled, the weed making him glow. You stared across his regal looks. You bet he was  a king in a previous life. 

You wriggled on the bed and took a deep breath. Stay strong. Stay strong. “You actin’ crazy, Ty. Not every girl wanna be yo bitch,” you said. You sounded weak to your own ears. 

“Mhm, I think you the one lyin’. I think you been cravin’ this dick,” he said. He pecked your cheek and traveled down. His lips kissed a trail of fire down to your neck.

“What you say that for?” You asked.

“You wanna know what it’s like to be fucked by me, don’t you?” He asked. He kissed up to your ear and laughed. “I know what desire look like. I eat that shit for breakfast,” he said.

His words made your mouth drop open. Words of denial rushed to your lips. But your mouth turned dry. The fuckin’ weed speeding along your anxiety at being exposed. 

“You trippin’, man,” you said. You shook your head, but he kept up the pressure on your neck. Practically making out. Little swipes of his tongue made you bite back a groan. Your panties were so damp, they were sticking to you. You ran the palms of your hands up and down your thighs. 

“You talk big game. You aint tell me to stop yet neither,” he said.

Fuck. True. But how could you? He hadn’t even done anything to you yet and you were ready to burst. You just made yourself cum this morning, thinking of the video last night. He had looked delicious pounding someone into the bed. How you wanted it to be you. 

Your words died in your throat. What could you say? He was seducing yo ass. Did you really want that to stop?

“Fine then, nigga. Break my back,” you said. You looked him in the eyes with the challenge in your eyes. He looked up at you and grinned. Yo momma ain’t raise no bitch. You got nervous sometimes but that’s okay. It’s okay to be nervous. Do shit anyway. 

The words sounded nice, but you were terrified of the look in Tyrone’s eyes. That was not the look of someone who was going to be sweet and loving in bed. Tyrone the Pornstar was here. 

He got off of the bed and moved the ashtray off of the bed and onto the nightstand. The sound of the glass was like a gunshot. You flinched and watched his every move. He stood up to his full height and stared at you.

The look in his eyes was not friendly. It was predatory. You were an unknowing baby bunny and he was a starving wolf. He reached out with his hands and ran them up and down your bare thighs. You gasped and flinched away from him. 

“When was the last time you been fucked?” He asked. 

You’ve taken your fair share of guys to your bed. Some were even good. None ever came close to Tyrone. Each time you came, it was to the sound or memory of Tyrone’s voice. 

“Been a while,” you said. 

He nodded his head. He reached for the zipper of your shorts and you let him unzip it. He didn’t pull your shorts down all the way. He opened your zipper as far as it would go and then pulled down the front just enough to see your panties.

You were hoping to disrobe in a quick rush. You weren’t exactly prepared for sex tonight. You wore one of your boring and safe panties. It didn’t bother Tyrone. He stared at it, like he’d just unwrapped a present. 

“Talkin’ all that shit. Why yo panties wet then?” He asked. 

You looked away briefly. “Thinkin of this guy at my job I got a crush on,” you said.

Tyrone dug his fingers into your panties and you cried out. “Every time you lie to me, that’s another orgasm,” he said. “I’m already thinkin’ of..four, maybe. I can keep goin’,” he said. His deep voice made you shiver. 

His fingers were right there. Your stupid panties were in the way. You felt the pressure but not his beautiful, strong hands. “I’m not lyin’,” you said.

He dug his fingers in more and you jerked from the strong wave of desire. It was like you drank static. 

“A’ight that’s five. And I want you to count ‘em out too,” he said. 

“Wait, I’m sorry,” you said. You never had your limits tested, but you were pretty sure you’d die after the third one. If he went for five, you weren’t going to survive. There were too many things you wanted to accomplish before you left this earth. 

“That sorry shit don’t work on me,” he said and grinned. “Now be a good little bitch and tell me you want this dick. And you want me to film it,” he said. 

A breath stuttered out of you. He was even better in person. “Don’t show my face,” you said. You borrowed boldness for tonight. If you survived to tomorrow, then that’s when you’d freak out. For now, you wanted the entire Tyrone experience. 

“Naw, this my personal stash. I wanna see that sexy ass face,” he said. He leaned over you and ran his thumb outside of your panties. You were leaking at the edges and his thumb glided so close to where you needed him. 

“Personal stash?” Maybe if you kept him talking, he’d give you a reprieve. You just needed a moment to think. To find a way out of five orgasms. 

“The ones I watch to get myself hard. The ones I cum to, thinkin’ of it when I’m balls deep in pussy online,” he said. 

Oh shit. “But–” your dry throat ached. It paled in comparison to the ache in your tummy. That deep, hidden place that few men actually hit. 

Tyrone slipped his thumb under your panties and crested the very outer area of your clit. You gasped and twitched, your legs couldn’t open wider because your shorts weren’t all the way off. He looked into your eyes. 

He licked your open mouth. “See, the game to porn? Focus on the woman. Always,” he said.

He increased his strokes until you were a shaking mess. You didn’t know you could make those types of sounds. But all of the tiny grunts and yips, turned to moans as you came from his finger circling your clit. He didn’t even touch it directly. 

He pulled his finger away and watched you jerk and twitch until you calmed down. He licked his thumb, made a surprised sound, and stood up. Your eyes tracked him as he stepped back and took off his black T-shirt. His jeans went next, his briefs tenting with his erection.

He stroked himself over his briefs and looked at you with his head crooked to the side. “Fuck, you’re sexy,” he rasped. He moved to the side of his room and there was the sound of devices getting moved around. You laid on the bed, your eyes back to the ceiling. 

This was really happening. You fought the urge to pinch yourself as Tyrone set up the camera. It had a retractable viewer and he flipped it around to the bed. You saw yourself lying there, staring at the camera.

Your pussy clenched at the thought. Tyrone had always been a man of his word. If this was his personal stash, he was the only one that would see you getting fucked. You wanted it so desperately, you leaned up on your elbows and started to remove your shorts.

“I say you can move yet?” He asked. 

You panted at his aggressive tone and shook your head, not trusting your voice. “Lay yo ass back down,” he said. You followed his command, laying back on the bed. Your body was floating this time. You felt every nerve in your body twitch up and await what Tyrone had in store. 

Tyrone puffed on the blunt as he finished setting up the camera. A moment later, he brought the camera closer and pointed it at your face. You blushed so hard that your cheeks burned from it. You knew they would be hot to the touch. 

“Smile for Daddy,” he said. 

You giggled and swiped at the camera. “Fuck you,” you said. 

Tyrone chuckled a little louder this time. He moved the camera down your body. “Take off the shirt first, nice and slow,” he said. 

You sat up and looked at him. Focus on him. That’s all you had to do. You’d make this the best damn video he can’t release. You took off your shirt, exposing your mismatched bra. That came next, slowly sliding it off your arms. You threw it at him and he caught it with one hand. 

He smirked from behind the camera and dropped your bra. He commanded that you stand up and take off your shorts. He told you to turn around and slightly bend over as you took off your panties. You stepped out of it and he groaned.

“Fuck, look at that pretty fuckin’ pussy,” he said. 

You clenched and then clenched again knowing that he was picking it up on the camera. “Crawl on the bed, get on your back,” he said. 

You did as he told you. You climbed onto the bed and exaggerated yourself crawling to the top of his bed. You flipped over, dropping onto your back. “Get comfortable,” he told you.

You moved a few pillows over to cradle your head and back. You instantly felt better. You closed your eyes with a smile. Your knees were pressed together, still feeling that lingering shyness. 

Tyrone tapped your knees. “Open them up for me,” he said. Tyrone had the viewfinder half flipped between you. He had it focused on your knees. You hid your face behind your hands and shook your head. 

“C’mon, do what I say,” he said. 

You groaned but opened your legs. You threw your arm over your eyes, not wanting to see his reaction. “Open them pretty eyes and look at me,” he said. His tone, more than anything, made you open your eyes and stare at him. Tyrone was not the gentle type online. He barked and commanded and did nearly unspeaking things to women. Soft wasn’t in his vocabulary. 

“You know how sexy you are?” He asked. 

“Of course I do,” you said. Your sexiness didn’t depend on no man. Not even Tyrone. You knew you were fine as hell. You ain’t pull niggas for nothin’. But you were still fuckin’ shy. Damn. 

“Don’t hide it then,” he said. He climbed onto the bed and moved the camera beyond your head. You craned your neck to see him fix the viewfinder where he could see. There was a perfect angle of the length of your body, your legs spread open, and Tyrone hovering above you. 

Tyrone then kissed you, rolling his tongue all over yours. You don’t know how long he spent kissing you. It was long enough to make you relax for half a second. When he felt your body go slack, he added his hands. He lowered himself to your body and rested on his elbows. His hands, he ran them all over your chest. 

He massaged your breasts, rolling your nipple between his warm fingers. Each twist was just this side of painful. And you groaned. Your head flopped on the pillow as he nipped at your neck. 

You brought your hands up to grip onto his back. Your nails lightly scratched him. He groaned. He kissed down your neck, moving onto the top of your titties. “Oh, shit,” you moaned as his lips latched onto your left nipple. 

He sucked like he was mining for gold. He rolled his tongue over the budding peak. He ‘d stop and examine his handiwork, see if it was satisfactory, then return his attention to it. He licked a long strip down the center of your chest to your tummy. 

He paid careful attention to each stretch mark, each tiny scar from you being clumsy, and every mole. His hands worked their way down too. Squeezing your sides. The upper, fleshy part of your thighs. He reached around and gripped your ass, squeezing the globes. 

He continued downward, running his tongue through your pubic hair. He reached the very edge of your pussy and you squirmed away. A cold patch started inching its way under your ass. Your arousal was already flooding his bed. 

He flattened his tongue against your pussy lips and you bucked off of the bed. “Oh fuck, Tyrone!” You yelled. 

Your skin was itchy. You needed relief in the worst way. He chuckled and nosed his way through your folds. He swirled his tongue lazily around your clit.

“Did you know you taste good?” He murmured into your pussy. His lips caught your clit and part of your pussy lips. You made an unholy moan. 

“Could eat this for breakfast, lunch, and dinner and still want some,” he said. 

“Fuck,” you whined. Your pussy clenched thinking of a repeat with Tyrone. How else he could be so nasty. 

The wetness of his tongue made you wetter. He began to increase the flicks of his tongue against your clit. “Oh shit, right there, right there,” you begged.

Tyrone backed away at the last second and you growled. He chuckled and kissed your clit. “You think just ‘cuz you want it, you s’posed to have it?” He asked. 

“Please, please,” you said. 

“Mhm, I knew yo lyin’ ass was gon’ regret what you said.” 

“Or maybe I just wanna cum and I’ll say anything,” you said, goading him into proving you wrong. You’d gladly be wrong, many times over, if he kept eating you like that. 

“Guess, we goin’ for six then. Start counting,” he said. 

“What?” 

“And the first one ain’t count neither,” he said. 

“That’s cheating!” You yelled. 

He looked at you from between your legs. You had to sit up some to see his half lidded eyes. “I look like a nigga that play fair?” 

Your chest rose and fell and you looked at him. You shook your head. “No, but–what can I do to bring that number down?” You asked. 

“Not a mu’fuckin’ thing,” he said. He kept watching you as he descended on your pussy, running his lips up and down, licking up your arousal. He watched as he tried different things, trying to see what you reacted to most. When he did something you liked, he stopped and switched tactics. 

You tried not responding, quieting your moans but then he’d bit the sensitive spot between your pussy and your leg. You’d jerk, complain about the pain, and say, “Don’t give a fuck.” 

You were back to moaning uncontrollably. So out of your mind in bliss, that you barely noticed that he stuck a finger inside of you. He pumped you, his finger getting wetter on each slide. “Oh fuck, oh fuck,” you chanted. 

“Let Daddy hear you,” he said. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you continued. Each word ended on a shriek. Tyrone sucked and you came, with a loud moan. Your hands moved down your stomach, down your thighs, scratching underneath them. Your moves were jerky, flopping against the bed. You didn’t know what to do with your body as you came. 

When you were done, air whooshed across your heated, sweat-slick skin. Tyrone licked up whatever was left over, making you twitch from your sensitive clit. 

Tyrone kissed up one side of your thighs. He slapped your pussy, making you cry out. “One!” 

He then pushed your legs back, your thighs grazing the bedsheets. “This where I want ‘em. Keep ‘em there,” he said.

How the hell was he still in so much control? You were a ruined mess. You couldn’t survive any more. 

Tyrone had other plans. He trailed his fingers around your clit and you moaned. “I can’t,” you said.

“Aw, you wanna tap out?” He asked.

You nodded. Your eyes were closed. You weren’t strong enough for another orgasm. 

“Still don’t give a fuck,” he said. He leaned up and over you. His thighs pushed at yours, folding you. He leaned on his fist, his muscles bunching and contracting. A vein started near his elbow and ran down towards his hand. You longed to lick it, but his arm wasn’t close enough.

You resorted to rubbing his arm. He brought his other hand to cup your pussy. Then a finger disappeared inside you. “Oh shit!” You said and jerked.

He added a second finger and you twitched. Your moans were turning painful. Robbing the breath from your lungs. You’d gasp for any little molecule of air. And then seize up once more as his fingers pumped in and out of you. “Mhmm,” Tyrone said.

“Nasty little bitch, ain’t you.” He added a third finger. 

“Ty, Ty,” you croaked out. 

“What? You need four?” He asked. He added a fourth finger and you rounded your eyes at him. As he pumped it into you, he turned his hand. Two fingers slipped out. The first two, he continued to pound into you. Then he crooked his fingers in a come hither motion and you exploded.

Your back lifted off of the bed as your orgasm steam rolled you. Your legs shook like mini earthquakes, each wave cascading through you like aftershocks. You reached for his chest, needed to feel something solid under your hands. He slapped your hand away and tilted his head at you. 

He grabbed your nipple and pulled and you shrieked. “Fuck,” you said. He arched his brow at you. “Two,” you said. 

You came down with tears gathering in your eyes. You sniffled as you shivered. Tyrone rubbed your arms, smirking at you. 

“Shit, may not need the camera. I’m gon’ remember this shit,” he said. 

You completely forgot about the camera. It turned you on that those orgasms were recorded. That he’d watch them again and again. 

He kissed your tummy, bringing your attention back. He kissed and suckled your skin. You watched it disappear into his mouth. You groaned when he started to hurt. He moved on to more patches of skin, kissing the underswell of your right titty. He caressed your hips and massaged your ass as he kissed his way to your neck. 

He bit your shoulder and then licked your neck. He placed kisses on your jaw and then kissed you. He licked the swell of your bottom lip. 

Your body relaxed into the feel of his lips on you. The weed still did its thing. Every kiss was its own inferno. Burning your skin and leaving no end in sight. 

Tyrone returned his attention to your neck, kissing along your ear. He licked the shell of your ear and lined up at your entrance. You didn’t even notice that he took off his briefs.

He slid in and you groaned. You brought your hand up to push at his chest. He stroked and coated his long dick with your juices. He moaned at the feeling of you. He threw his head back and you saw his neck swallowing. Tiny huffs escaped him.

“Goddamn, this pussy feels as good as it tastes,” he moaned. You clenched at his dirty words and he moaned again. 

“Wanna get fucked like a good little bitch?” He asked. 

“Yes! Yes, Daddy, please,” you begged, nodding your head. 

His strokes were long, languorous. His hands pinned your upper arms to the bed. “What happened to all that shit you was talkin’?” 

He wanted you to speak? Speak when he had his third leg half inside of you? He wasn’t even fully seated yet. 

“Talk that shit now with dick in you,” he said. 

You opened your mouth, ready to say something. But then he slammed all the way home, hitting your G-spot and making you cum instantly. You shook on his dick, eyes rolling into the back of your head. Your toes curled. The orgasm took all coherent thought. 

After, you sniffed as tears ran down your cheeks. Tyrone’s dick twitched, his eyes locked on your face. 

“Can get a nigga used to this. You cum so pretty,” he said. 

“Fuck, Tyrone. Please,” you whispered. He only smirked at you. He slapped his hand against your cheek. “Three,” you said with a cry. 

He moved his hand down your throat and squeezed. 

“Oh fuck,” you whispered. Tears fell in rivulets down your cheeks. You were past the point of feeling good in the afterglow of your orgasms. 

He kept up his slow strokes, making you feel every large vein sliding against your slick inner walls. “Put them legs where I want ‘em,” he commanded.

You lifted your aching thighs, putting your hands under to hold them open for him. “Please, Daddy.” 

“Please what? Ask nicely,” he said. 

He slowed down even more, almost to a torturous crawl. He wiggled his hips and his dick hit all the corners of your pussy. 

“Please, no more,” you said. 

“You know what to say to get me to stop,” he said. He wiggled his hips for emphasis. You whined and jerked on the bed. 

You didn’t want to punk out. But you truly couldn’t take another one. Still, one built up anyway. Tyrone chuckled at you, condescension poured out of him in waves. 

“You know I’m cummin’ in this shit right?” He groaned. He threw his head back and his hips twitched. 

You pictured him filling you up like a twinkie and your pussy clenched. “Like that? Want me to nut in you?” 

He squeezed your neck one last time. He moved his hand to your lower tummy and pushed down. You felt his dick from the other side, felt how deep he was inside of you. The tip of his dick kissed your G-spot. He kissed you, soft and nasty. “Talk yo shit then. Can’t talk with dick inside you?” 

Tears gave everything a watery haze. It streamed down your face. Tyrone licked up your tears and moaned low to your ear. “Gimme that nut then,” he said. 

On command, another orgasm rushed through you. Spots danced behind your eyelids. You squeezed your eyes shut. “Show me them pretty eyes,” he said. 

He smirked as you locked eyes with him. He angled his hips and your jaw dropped open. “Mhmm, I know. I know,” he said. 

As you were calming down, you muttered, “Four.” 

Tyrone slipped out of you and you drew your first real breath in what felt like hours. He leaned down between your legs, his mouth suckling on your clit. 

“Oh shit, oh fuck, oh fuck, Tyrone, Daddy. Please,” you moaned. 

“Open them fuckin’ legs,” he growled. You opened them wider, both your arms and legs were tired now. He brought his mouth back onto you and sucked roughly, dragging another orgasm out of you. Your eyes were permanently glued to the back of your head. Pleasure coursed through you, making your legs shake of their volition. Your soul left your body, your feet cramped. Sound exited your right ear and you felt this one in your eyes. 

You squirted and Tyrone leaned back. “Mhmm,” he encouraged. “Nasty fuckin’ bitch,” he said. He licked up your sopping mess. You continued to squirt, the pleasure still so intense. He leaned back and watched you cum, watched you squirt. 

“F-f-five,” you shook. Your teeth clattered and knocked against each other. 

“Look at you, bein’ a good little bitch,” he said. “You made Daddy wait for his nut though.” His voice turned sinister. 

He leaned up and slapped his dick against your clit. The wet slap turned you feral, and you cried for more. You begged for more. 

“Fill me up, Daddy,” you cried. Your fingers tore at your body. You wanted more even though you were ready to tap out. Ready to give it up. 

Tyrone chuckled as he slammed back in. “Oh fuck,” you cried and collapsed your legs. 

“Uh-uh, open them fuckin’ legs. Keep that shit open,” he said. 

You cried, tears long since dried up. He bottomed out and then rubbed your clit with his thumb. “Oh fuck,” you moaned.

“I know,” he said. 

He slid in and out, stroking deep. Deep enough to make you see stars. “Oh, fuck, Daddy,” your voice was high-pitched. “Fuck me, Daddy, fuck me,” you chanted.

“Im finna nut,” he moaned. “I’m finna nut, I’m finna nut.” Hearing his moans was like the spark you needed. You came again, gushing and soaking his dick. He threw his head back and unloaded inside of you. 

He kept going, kept fucking his cum into you. Hot splashes coated your pussy. You felt every pulse and twitch of his dick inside you. He emptied his balls into you and you moaned and scratched at his back. 

He slowed his deep strokes, stilling inside of you. 

“Good fuckin’ bitch,” he said. He slipped out of you, his cum leaking out behind him. He panted, his sweaty chest rising and falling almost painfully. 

“Oh,” you cooed and moaned. Your legs flopped onto the bed, instant relief from keeping them up so long. “Six,” you whispered. Your voice was hoarse. 

Tyrone kissed you. He breathed in your ear. “You ever have any more questions, you come let me know.” 

You were already gone to the world as he said whatever it was that he said. If you woke up in the morning, it’d be a miracle.

&&&

You okay? Need more? The Secret Tyrone Files

[megamindsecretlair]

Every Dose of Me

Pairing: Isaac x Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. PWP, Filth, cursing, PIV, oral (fem receiving) size kink, daddy kink. All consensual. Established relationship. Heavy use of n-word.

Summary: You woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning and Isaac has a few ideas about how to wake you up.

Word Count: 1,413k

A/N: I'm not sure if others peeped what I peeped, but that man get to yelling and I'm on my knees. So let me know if you want more! I'm also not married to the moodboard, so it might change. Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!

Taglist: @planetblaque @blowmymbackout @browngirldominion @sageispunk @harmshake @amethyst0 @ciaqui @we-outsiiiide @iv0rysoap @thecookiebratz @blackerthings @tranquilfandomer

You woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. Isaac was not in bed with you, which wasn’t typical of him. You got out of bed with a grunt, already not having a great start.

You padded into the living room in your fuzzy house slippers, wondering where the fuck Isaac was and why he wasn’t delivering your morning kisses. You heard his voice somewhere in the house, speaking harshly to somebody.

You followed the sound of his voice to the living room, where he sat on the couch in nothing but his gray sweatpants. You stood there staring at his bare chest, admiring the view. He was thick in all the right places, giving you something to hold on to while you were fucking. The tattoos covering his body only highlighted the planes and valleys of his physique, making your mouth water so shortly after waking up.

You scratched at your bonnet, staring at him while he talked. “As soon as we find that nigga, let me know,” Isaac said into the phone. When he caught you staring in the doorway, he looked at you.

“Good morning, beautiful,” he said. His whole demeanor changed. It was subtle, since Isaac wasn’t the type to do more than a quick smile. But it was the way his shoulders drooped. The way his face softened as he looked at you. 

“Hmm,” you grunted. You weren’t shit in the morning before your cup of coffee. Could barely be qualified as a person. 

Isaac narrowed his eyes. “I said good morning, beautiful,” he said.

You yawned, stretching. His T-shirt that you wore to bed rose up over your bare legs. You scratched at your bonnet once more, heading into the kitchen. You mournfully looked at the empty pot. 

Isaac got you one of those fancy Keurig machines. Your favorite coffee at the press of a button. But the water tank was empty and you resented the amount of energy required to refill it. But your need for coffee overrode your grumpiness, so you shuffled towards the pot, pressing the on button, and grabbing the water tank.

“Fuck wrong with you?” Isaac asked. You hadn’t heard him follow you into the kitchen, nor did you hear him calling after you. It really was a weird morning.

“Nothing, nigga,” you grunted. You refilled the water tank and placed it under the Keurig. Issac’s hand wrapped around your bicep and pulled you towards his towering embrace. He stared down at you as if you’d lost your ever loving mind. 

“Fuck all this attitude about?” He asked.

You opened your mouth to say something, prepared to tell him that it wasn’t you, it was the coffee. It was a weird morning. There something wrong with the planets. Something else was the cause. Not your fault. 

However, Isaac wasn’t waiting for a response. He dragged you away from the Keurig, roughly picking you up and planting you on the kitchen table.

“What the fuck, Isaac!” You yelled out, pushing at his chest. The Keurig hummed and hissed, steam rising from the pot. You only needed to finish getting your coffee. Finish that sweet bean juice to wake you up and get your day started. 

He settled down into a chair, scraping it against the linoleum floor as he pushed inward. You pushed at him once more. He knew you were a bear before your coffee. 

“Yo ass always grumpy about somethin’, damn,” he complained. 

“What are you doing?” You asked, though it ought to be obvious what he was planning. Your mind wasn’t working however, too focused on the hiss and rise of the steam that meant the water was nice and hot. 

“I’m hungry,” he said. He winked at you, leaning forward to bite your thigh. 

It was your turn to hiss. You grabbed onto his broad shoulder, leaning back a bit to see what he was up to. He used his thumbs to spread your pussy lips, tongue diving in to lick you.

“Oh shit,” you moaned. 

Okay, maybe there was more than one way to wake up. Isaac took his time, getting your clit wet with his saliva. He teased you, his tongue swirling around your clit in slow, torturous circles that made your thighs quiver. 

Your pussy throbbed under his careful ministrations. Your fingers dug into his bare shoulders, admiring the strength of him. He was such a man. Something about a man you couldn’t tell what to do had your body responding like a magnet to him. 

Your breathy sighs and moans increased as he tasted you. Tasted the slow, creamy essence dripping down your inner thighs. Isaac moaned at your sweet taste. At the way you gripped onto him. At the way your sighs pushed your pussy into his awaiting mouth. 

“Fuck, baby, I’m finna cum. I’m finna cum,” you moaned.

“Cum on then,” he said into your pussy. He flattened his tongue, giving you one long stripe from entrance to clit. You screamed out, clutching his head to your pussy as you jerked and twisted, so overcome with pleasure that your vision winked out. 

Isaac teased and licked you through it, moaning, sending vibrations down your legs. You shook violently as he finished sopping up whatever you eked out. He stood then, pushing back the chair. 

“Yo ass awake now?” He asked.

You looked down at the dark tent of his pants, signaling that he was turned on. “No, I need more help,” you said with a small grin. 

Isaac licked his lips, tongue peeking out as he dropped his sweats low enough to reveal his long dick. He tapped the tip against your pussy, making wet smacks echo in the tiny kitchen. 

You moaned. Still a little sensitive from your orgasm, you couldn’t take the teasing. You reached for him, guiding him to your entrance. You looked into his eyes and moaned, the ragged thing bruising your throat. 

Isaac leaned down and kissed you as you guided him inside, to fill you up exactly as you needed. You were wide awake now. Whatever foul mood you had evaporated with every inch Isaac delivered. 

You tasted yourself on his tongue, tasted how much he turned you on. The wet, warm press of his lips rivaled the fire he started at your core. He was too big to bottom out inside of you, but every inch that was inside felt like its own particular magic. 

He worked his hips, pulling out of you and then sliding back in. “OH fuck,” you moaned, dropping your head forward on his chest.

“There’s my beautiful girl,” Isaac groaned. His strokes were lazy, smooth, and filled with tiny curses falling from his lips like being inside you was heaven. He made love to you and you wrapped your legs around his waist to keep him close. Keep him right there.

He licked his thumb, dropping it to your clit. Your hand slapped against his chest as you turned pleading eyes towards him. “Fuck, baby, please,” you moaned. 

“Please what? What you need?” He asked. 

“Fuuuck,” you cried out. 

You couldn’t tell him. You couldn’t make your words work. Couldn’t find the proper order to put them in to tell him to keep doing exactly what he was doing. His strokes combined with his thumb and the nasty look in his eyes had you panting, orgasm rising to the surface like the break of the ocean against the shore.

“Tell me what you need,” he demanded.

“More. Faster.”

His strokes remained the same steady pace as he furiously worked his thumb against your clit. You began tweaking, twitching, grabbing onto his arms and holding on as you cursed, a keening whine leaving your lips like a wounded animal. 

Your release triggered his own as he let himself cum inside you, fucking his cum so deep you wanted it to last forever. 

“Got damn,” he moaned. He pulled you closer to him, dropping kisses to your lips, cheeks, and neck. When the last of his cum left him, he stayed planted inside of you. You were sweaty and gross now but Isaac smiled at you like you were the most beautiful woman in the world. 

“You awake now, baby?” He asked.

“Yes, Daddy. Thank you.” You lifted your chin so he could plant another kiss on you.

“We gon’ try this shit again. Good morning, beautiful,” he said. He kissed your forehead and you melted.

“Good morning, Big Daddy.”

The end.

There may be more, but ya'll gotta let me know if you liked this one!

The Secret Isaac Files

[megamindsecretlair]

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

[megamindsecretlair]

Stay With Me

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

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Smut, PWP, cursing, PIV, oral (male and fem receiving), cum play, possession kink, size kink, breeding kink if you squint, all consensual. Praise kink. Use of n-word. Mention of depression. Mentions of negative self-talk.

Summary: You never thought in a million years that Tyrone would look at you with desire in his eyes. Tonight, he does.

Word Count: 5,885k

A/N: I....sort of went overboard with this. I'm going to be soooo groggy in the morning! I hope I did it justice! Likes are always awesome. Please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers!

Taglist: @planetblaque @dayjlovesromance @sevikasblackgf @melaninpov @amyhennessyhouse @henneseyhoe @honeyoriginalz @justheretostan @black-fairy3 @superhoeva @jarfulloftears @hereformiles @montysstuffs @westside-rot @blackerthings @blowmymbackout @euphoric05 @miyuhpapayuh @nicolexnight @8ttached @judymfmoody @wakandas-vibranium @soft-persephone

“Man, get the fuck off my porch,” Tyrone spat out and callously slammed the metal door in front of the girl’s face. You almost felt sorry for her. Almost. It was Tyrone. Of course he was gonna act like a dog after he got some play. You weren’t blaming her. But you had to keep your heart out of being with Tyrone. 

The girl continued yelling so he slammed the wooden door in her face as well. It cut out of the long stream of curses and names she was calling him. She called his name and banged on the metal door, the sharp sound hurting your ears. 

You watched Tyrone shake his head and return to the couch next to you. You hid a smile as you looked him over. He wore his usual dickies and black T-shirt and his hair was pulled into smooth cornrows. He blew out a breath and shook his head, settling into the couch and pointedly ignoring the banging on his door.

“Bitch act like she the police,” he muttered. 

You turned your attention back to your phone. The TV played some type of game. You didn’t bother to remember which one. Tyrone endlessly flipped through channels never settling on anything. 

“Go on and say it,” he said. 

You looked at him and smirked. He settled sideways into the couch so that he was partially laying on your legs. You were propped against the arm of the couch, your elbow digging into the rough fabric. 

“I ain’t say nothin’,” you said quietly. Even after all these years knowing Tyrone, you never managed to get over how hot he was. There was a subtle attractiveness about him. His energy or his vibe or just the way he walked and moved. 

“But you want to, so go on,” he said. He turned his attention back to the TV but you saw the way his jaw flexed. He hated unnecessary drama. Well, that’s what he said. And yet, there was always some girl chasing after him because of how he dogged them out. 

The girl at his door finally gave up banging on it. It was clear Tyrone wasn’t going to answer. You couldn’t tell Tyrone shit. Not a damn thing. Once he set his mind to something, there was no moving him. 

For someone that hated drama so much, he was constantly in the middle of it. Whether it was his dealing, his boys, or the skirts he chased. 

“There’s nothing I can say that you ain’t heard before,” you said. You smirked at your phone. Tyrone would have another girl on his porch soon. Upset and angry. Rightfully so. Tyrone never promised tomorrow. Yet without fail, there was someone thinking that they could change him. That was like expecting the sun not to rise. 

“But yo ass gonna sit there smug and shit until you say somethin’,” he said. 

“You make it sound like I nag,” you said and rolled your eyes. 

“Might as well,” he said.

You kicked at his shoulder and he turned and bit your calf. “Ass,” you told him.

“Come on, shit,” he said. 

You rolled your eyes and stared at him. “You need to be more selective with these girls you fuckin’. They stay on your damn porch,” you said. 

“I can’t help it. I see some sexy ass thighs and I wanna get between ‘em,” he said. He looked at you but you knew the comment wasn’t directed at you. You ignored the long standing ache in your chest. It wasn’t his fault that you couldn’t control who you were attracted to.

Look at him! How could anyone not be attracted to him? Tyrone moved through the world like it owed him something. Like it was his God-given right to breathe this air, walk these streets. That type of confidence and self-assuredness was attractive. 

You on the other hand…you knew you were shy and awkward and weird. The adjectives were like scarlet letters painted on your forehead. You had been called all three your whole life. Like they were dirty words equivalent to calling you a slut or a whore. 

There was nothing wrong with those things. But if you heard it enough, it tended to take on a new meaning. One that you couldn’t leave behind. The scarlet letters proclaimed your identity before you had a chance to introduce yourself to someone. One look at you and people sized you up. Whittled away any chance of proving them wrong. Add in your resting bitch face and you turned people away without trying.

No kidding, today, you overheard someone say, “nah, she look mean” when they were looking for a place to sit. Was it a crime to not smile all the damn time? No one told men to smile that often. As if you were supposed to deal with bullshit day in and day out with a goofy ass smile on your face. 

Tyrone waved his hand in front of your face. “You stay spacin’ the fuck out,” he said.  

“I heard you, I was just thinkin’. You can help it. You just don’t want to,” you said. You went back to scrolling through your phone. 

“What’s wrong with liking sex?” 

You shrugged. “Nothin’. You could use some discretion though. How you know these people are clean?” 

You shivered. The last thing you wanted was a sexually transmitted disease. The thought of it was embarrassing enough. You couldn’t imagine looking a doctor in the eye and explaining what happened. 

“I wrap my shit. Plus, I don’t fuck every bitch I meet,” he said. 

You laughed so hard that you threw your head back on the couch. Your sides hurt as you laughed. 

“It ain’t that fuckin’ funny,” he mumbled, sucking his teeth. That only made you laugh harder. If there was one thing you could say to describe Tyrone, it was that he was a whore. An entire whore. 

Whenever you hung out, he and the boys would see a fine girl walking by and crane their necks looking at her ass. You were relegated to “one of the boys”. They knew full well that you were a girl and were capable of being fine too. But no one took the time to warm up to you. No one desired you that way. You didn’t turn heads. You made people laugh until they realized you were worth looking into.

It wasn’t a dig at yourself. You just knew your role in life. You were like the song on the playlist that someone added and forgot about. Until you came up on shuffle and the listener realized that you were actually fire. 

You sobered up with a deep sigh. Giggles still escaped you but Tyrone was not having it. He stared you down as if you kicked his puppy. “I’m just sayin’. You got a rep,” you said.

“A rep for layin’ pipe,” he said with a cocky grin. You rolled your eyes. Why did you bother with him in the first place? 

“Sex should mean something, Tyrone,” you said.

He sucked his teeth and rolled his eyes. “That’s ‘cause you ain’t had no good dick,” he said.

A strangled noise escaped you before you kicked at his shoulder. He moved out of the way. You did manage to kick him a little. He chuckled and held onto your foot to prevent you from kicking him more.

“I’ve had good dick, thank you very much!” You said. 

“Bullshit. You’d still be fuckin’ if you had good dick,” he said.

“That’s not true. If you layin’ good pipe like you say, you fuck anything that moves. I’m just not into sharing like that. I ain’t trynna have my vag on fire,” you huffed and concentrated on your phone.

Usually, you and Tyrone had an unspoken rule. He and the crew talked about their escapades all they wanted and you pretended to be grossed out and uninterested. You never mentioned your stories. There wasn’t much to tell. And they knew it. But they never made fun of you for it. Worse. They thought it was adorable. 

Because yeah, the one thing you wanted to be was adorable. Just once, you’d like to be sought after. To have someone hot and sexy in your DMs begging to get in between your legs. 

People thought overweight girls were supposed to be happy with the ashy niggas. The dorks who couldn’t hold a conversation. The ugly muthafuckas with an uglier personality who thought you should suck they dick because they held the door open once. 

“A’ight, who you fuck that had good dick?” Tyrone asked.

“I’m not telling you!” The tips of your ears burned as you tore your gaze away from him. For fuck’s sake, you’ve told worse things to your girls. You and your girls got graphic. Recounting sexual encounters and rating them amongst the others. Your girls had more stories than you, naturally. Damn. You really ought to stop putting yourself down. 

Tyrone chuckled. “‘Cause you ain’t had no good dick, that’s why,” he said. He shook his head and went back to flipping channels. 

Dismissed. Just like that. Your ears burned for different reasons. “I ain’t gotta prove shit to you, Tyrone. Worry about yourself and your diseased dick,” you said. 

“Nothin’ diseased about my shit. Wanna see?” Tyrone went to the fly of his pants and your eyes widened. 

“Something is seriously wrong with you,” you said. Just like that, you were laughing again. Tyrone was the only person who yanked your emotions around. You shouldn’t let him get to you. But he claimed to do it so that you would loosen up. 

“I’m not a robot,” you had told him one day.

“I know. But you cool as shit and you won’t let anybody see it,” he had said back. That shut you up for about a week. Tyrone had to track you down and drag you out of the house, thinking you were in a depressive mood. You didn’t have the confidence to tell him that what he said shifted your axis. 

You thought he only saw you like an annoying sister he had to drag everywhere. You practically grew up together. Your houses were right across the street from each other. If he was outside, you were outside with him. So to hear him give you a compliment touched parts of you that you learned to bury. 

You blinked and turned to Tyrone who was leaning over you, his face closer to you than it’s ever been. Even when he had chased you when you were twelve and you both got tangled in the water hose and fell on top of each other.

“I can help you with that, you know,” he said. 

“With what?” Your voice was quiet. 

He slowly licked his lips as his eyes trailed down. “Gettin’ you some good dick,” he said. 

You chuckled. “How you gonna do that? Gonna put an ad out for the big chick needin’ dick?” 

“Why you do that?” He asked.

“Do what?” You were starting to get an attitude. Whatever game he was playin’, you wanted no parts of it. This was a cruel joke, even for him. And he never let you live down your prom. Not because of how you look, but because of how your date looked. He still brought it up.  

“You stay puttin’ yourself down. Like you gotta do it first or somethin’.” 

You gaped at him. “I-” You didn’t have anything to say to that. It was instinct to call out the elephant in the room. If not, someone else did it and was way meaner. You weren’t going to let anyone make you feel bad about yourself. But your self-deprecating humor was hurting you more. Perhaps you wanted someone to correct you, just once. To say, “fuck that, you sexy as hell”. It was a stupid wish. 

“I’m just sayin’. I can help you out with it,” he said.

“You want to fuck me,” you said. You tried to hold in your laugh. You tried to take him seriously, but you felt a slow grin cross your face. He didn’t smile back. Instead, his eyes narrowed and he looked at your lips. 

“Damn right. Been trynna fuck you for a while,” he said.

Your jaw dropped. Where the hell was this coming from? You sat up straight but he was still near you. He was close enough that you smelled his spicy scent and could see the dark pools of brown in his eyes. Only a few inches separated your lips from his big, juicy ones.

“What?” 

He grinned. The cocky muthafucka. “Ain’t you noticed it’s just been us hanging around lately?” 

No. It wasn’t until he said it that you realized. The boys had been noticeably absent. Instead of hanging with them while they roamed the streets or sat outside Tyrone’s porch, it had been just you and Tyrone. Watching TV, playing games, or taking drives up the 405 when the traffic died down. You were just happy to spend time with him. Any way you could get him. 

You thought it was awesome that his crew didn’t want to hang lately. You got to be selfish and have Tyrone’s attention. That was him…flirting? 

“Oh,” you said. 

He laughed and shook his head. “I figured yo ass didn’t know,” he said. 

He stood up, giving you enough time to breathe and deal with this turn of events. You ran through every interaction, wondering how you could be so blind. 

“Nuh uh. Don’t disappear on me,” he said. He pulled you up off of the couch and took your phone. He tossed it on the couch and led you down the short hallway to his room. You had been there plenty of times. You had cracked jokes with the rest of his friends that it was radioactive with how much sex he was having. He’d wave you away, saying it wasn’t like that. 

You expected it to be gross. But it was refreshingly clean. He still had shit everywhere, though. Stray clothes piled on his desk chair, clothes spilling out of the closet. He had a wall of shoes stretching towards the ceiling. What was it with guys and shoes? 

He closed the door after leading you into the room. You stood there, awkwardly. You weren’t sure what to do. You hadn’t had enough time to freak out about this new development. 

He chuckled at your awkwardness and grabbed your hand again, pushing you onto the bed. “What you say? You wanna see what we can get into?” He asked. 

You looked at him. He wasn’t pushing you. You could’ve pulled your hand away in the living room and told him that he was crazy. “You wanna fuck me,” you said. You still couldn’t believe him. You pictured this so many times in your head. But now that it was offered to you on a silver platter, you felt like a virgin all over again. 

You were aware of everything. Every sigh that left his lips. The subtle drape of his shirt on your bare arm. The heat leaping off of him. 

“I wanna fuck you,” he said. 

“Why?” You asked. You swear, you weren’t trying to be this dense. It just didn’t make sense to you. 

“Why not? You’re fine as hell. And funny. You cool as shit,” he said. 

You bit your lip as you went through all the women he had been with. He didn’t really have a type. Petite and cute was a common theme. Petite as in being short as hell. You supposed he never really been with a super skinny chick. 

Tyrone was a big boy. He had some meat on them bones and it showed every time he moved. He was a solid dude. He’d probably break someone that was skinny. 

The wet heat of his lips pressed against yours and you gasped. Tyrone pulled back and grinned. “Stay with me. C’mon, give me a chance,” he said. 

You grinned and leaned forward, kissing him for real this time. Tyrone pushed his tongue in, rolling it against yours. You felt it down to your core. You moaned softly. 

“Take these off for me,” he said. He tugged on your shirt and played with the hem of your shorts. 

You stood up and pulled off your shirt. Then you unzipped your shorts and shucked them off. You stood there in your bra and panties, feeling both turned on and incredibly shy. You crossed your arms but he shook his head. He peeled your arms away from your chest and he looked his fill.

You were too nervous to look him in the eye. To look at his face. Goddamn it. You didn’t hate the way you looked. But you couldn’t get over your insecurities. “Can we turn off the light…?” 

“Fuck no!” He scooted closer to the edge of the bed and grabbed your hips. He pulled you closer to stand between his legs. He rubbed your sides, your ass, and your thighs. He kissed your belly and you gasped. 

He looked up at you. He licked your stretch marks. You placed your hands on his shoulders to keep your legs from folding. How long has it been since you had sex? A while. And that had been a desperate attempt at latching onto the first halfway decent guy to look your way. 

He nibbled on your love handles, squeezing your flesh so he could take a big bite. You slapped his shoulder and he laughed. “That shit hurt!” 

“Good,” he said. He looked at you, daring you to do something about it. Again, insecurities robbed you of any idea of what to do next. You wanted to be sexy and take the lead. You wanted to entice him. Instead, you stood there while he kneaded the back of your thighs. 

“Hey, relax. Stay with me,” he said. 

He prompted you to climb into his lap. You placed your knees on the side of him and rested on his lap. His thick cock pushed against his shorts and you gasped as you got your first feel of it.

Okay, you sort of got why these girls would bang on his door like that. He ran his hands up and down your back as he kissed you slowly. He played with your lips. First he’d kiss you. Then he’d pull back and lick your lips. Then, he’d run his tongue across your teeth and you shuddered. 

He was content to do just that. Until you were squirming in his lap, trying to get some friction. He ran his hands across your back, fiddling with your bra until he unclipped it. He drew the cups down until it hung on your arms. You moved your hands from around his neck, but he shook his head.

“Put that shit back and hol’ on,” he said. You smiled and put it back on his shoulders. He kept his eyes on you as he put his head down and licked the top of your breast. You stuttered with a sigh. 

He moaned as he latched on to your nipple and started to suck. “Oh shit,” you said. You leaned up, you weren’t expecting him to suck that hard. In fact, you hadn’t known your nipples were that sensitive. Guys mostly ignored them, too busy trying to fuck. 

But Tyrone worshiped your titties. He went from one to the other, sucking and nibbling on your nipples. He sucked and yanked on one and it was like he yanked on your clit. Your wetness was pooling in your panties and you wiggled. If you were bare, his shorts would be ruined. You hissed as he yanked harder. 

“Fuck!” You said and tapped his shoulder. He let go with a wet pop and your nipple stayed beaded and swollen. He did the same thing to your other titty. “You do this shit to other bitches?” 

“Fuck no. You ain’t no bitch to me,” he said. He laved at your titty, encircling it with his tongue before he flicked it. You made all kinds of sounds as your eyes rolled back a bit. His hands gripped your ass and slid you higher on his lap.

Surely, he had to be hurting. His crotch was bulging and thick. It couldn’t have been comfortable for him. 

His words finally registered and you melted into him, pushing your chest into his face. He grinned. “Yeah, that’s right. Give me that shit,” he said. He reverently licked and sucked on your titties until your panties were truly damp. You didn’t have time to overthink. There was nothing but his heavenly mouth on your breasts.

A strangled sigh left you. You were grinding down on his dick. You almost had him in the perfect spot to rub against your clit. 

Abruptly, he stood up with you in his arms. You panicked. All the tension returned as you left the ground. You clung to him and he chuckled. “I got you,” he said. He kissed your cheek and the corner of your mouth until you focused on him instead of how much it would suck to crash to the ground. Carpet or not, the shit would hurt.

He laid you down on the bed and removed his shirt and pants. He rubbed himself over his briefs but he leaned down and took off your bra completely. He kissed your neck, licked your collarbone, and continued down. His hands peeled your legs apart and you moaned at the force he used.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” he murmured into your skin. “You wet for me?” 

He didn’t wait for you to answer. His fingers traced your pussy through your panties and he groaned in satisfaction feeling the wet spot there. You gyrated on his hand while he kissed his way back up to your face. 

He pressed his thumb in, pushing your panties into your clit and he rubbed harder. “Oh shit,” you moaned. He swallowed your moans. He kissed you and continued to play with you over your panties until you were panting and shaking. 

He kissed down to your ear and bit at your earlobe. “Let that shit go,” he said.

You whimpered before your knees slapped together and you came with his hand still on you. “You so pretty when you cum,” he whispered in your ear. 

He stood up with a satisfied smirk as he watched the last dregs of your orgasm leave you. He removed your sopping wet panties and kissed your knees when he finally got them off. He rubbed and caressed your thighs until you were relaxing against him once more. 

He opened your legs and stared at your pussy. “Fuck. So fuckin’ pretty. You ain’t had nobody work yo shit, huh?”

You shook your head but realized he may not have seen it. “No,” you admitted. No one had done half the things that Tyrone just did. He made you cum without really touching you. You weren’t sure if you should be embarrassed or impressed. It should not be that easy to get you off. It usually took you a long while. So much so, that you gave up foreplay with men. 

Tyrone stuck his nose against your clit and inhaled. You yelped and jerked up the bed. He bit your thigh and his arms hooked under your legs. He pulled you back down and placed his nose against you, sniffing you. He rubbed his nose in your wetness and you choked on a half laugh, half moan. 

“Goddamn,” he moaned. His tongue darted out to get a taste and he moaned again. “Taste fuckin’ good too. Matter of fact, I’m mad at you now,” he said.

You leaned up on your elbows and looked at him. He was a damn good sight to behold. His head was still dipped between your thick thighs and the look on his face…you wished you could take a picture. He looked hungry. His eyes were wide and he kept licking his lips as if you were still on his tongue. 

“What you mad at me for?” You asked.

“Keeping this fuckin’ pussy from me,” he said. You choked on a laugh. He dipped down and ran his tongue from your pussy to your clit. Your hips bucked and he held you down with his arms. 

He held you in place as he continued to lick you like ice cream. He was slow and methodical, letting you feel his tongue as it swirled around your wetness. Your pussy pulsed in time with his licks and you squirmed on the bed. 

“Oh fuck,” you moaned. You were near crying. He teased you without mercy. He brought you to the brink of cumming over and over, only to retreat and play with something else until your ass was back on the bed. 

A giant wet spot spread under your ass as you gushed arousal. He placed open mouth kisses on your clit, dragging his lips through either side of it. “Fuck, please. Please Tyrone,” you murmured.

“Please what?” He asked and lazily circled your clit again. 

You bit your lip. You didn’t know what you were begging for. Begging to cum? Begging for him to do something else? Begging just to beg? 

“Let me hear what you want from me.” He nosed through your slick and you bucked. “Let me hear that sexy, squeaky ass voice,” he said.

You laughed. It was more like a few puffs of air. Sweat gathered everywhere. You should feel gross. Instead, you finally felt…desired. He wasn’t down there, eating you out as a prerequisite for having sex. He was down there because he wanted to be. 

He suckled sharply on your clit and you hissed. “I ain’t gonna keep tellin’ yo ass to stay with me. Get out of your head for once,” he said. 

You grinned at him. “Yes, sir.” 

He moaned and licked at your clit. “Say that shit again, I like that,” he said. 

“Yes, sir,” you said. 

He grinned around your pussy. Your slick dripped down his chin. His entire face was wet with your juices and it only turned you on. He moaned as he felt your pussy clench. He was bringing you to the edge again. You couldn’t stand it.

Your body was overheated. Your hands clutched at his sheets desperately. You licked your lips. “Please…I need to cum,” you said. 

“You think you deserve to cum?” He asked. “Ain’t I already give you one?” He continued to lap at your slick and you twitched and jerked with the painful need to cum. Your belly was too tight. 

“Please, please, please,” you said. You threw your head back and forth. You needed something, soon. If you were denied one more time…

“Please, Tyrone. Don’t…I need to cum, please,” you babbled. You were saying anything at this point. You may have offered him your first born or a lifetime of blow jobs. You weren’t sure. But his deep, rumbling laugh skated over your sensitive skin. He rarely laughed. Each time he did, you cataloged it for later. When you were indulging in a delusion that involved him and this exact scenario. 

“Since you asked so nicely,” he said. If you thought he was serious before, it was nothing compared to how he attacked your clit. Like a starving man who’d just been offered a king’s feast. He flicked your clit with the tip of his tongue. Playing with the swollen nub until you were stuttering and hollering.

Tears of relief finally leaked out as you came with a high wail. You felt like you were inside out and upside down. You entered a sixth dimension somewhere. There was only pleasure. Unwavering, unbridled pleasure that swept over you in waves higher than the ocean. You were lost and unmoored. Head empty. 

You panted as you drifted back into your body. Somewhere between all of that, Tyrone had cleaned off his face and his briefs were gone. He looked down at you and stroked himself as he watched you. 

You struggled to your elbows as cold air hit the giant wet spot beneath you. It was lurid, the way you sat in a puddle like that. A puddle of your own making. You didn’t know you were capable of being that wet. 

You wiped sweat from your skin. You needed what he held in his hands. You sat up, your eyes focused on his dick. You wanted to return the favor. You wanted to suck him off. To bring him to the brink of oblivion like he just did for you. 

He chuckled as you reached for him. He stood close and you took him into your mouth. “Fuck,” he said. He threw his head back and jerked his hips forward. 

You went to work, bobbing up and down on his dick. He barely fit. You sucked and slobbered all over him, sucking him in as far as he could go. You used your hands to get to the rest of him, twisting your hands and letting your slobber drip down his dick to make your hands glide better.

“Goddamn, suck that shit. Show me you want this dick,” he encouraged. Sighs and moans escaped his mouth as you pleased him. He encouraged you to go faster and faster until his hips were jerking. He grabbed your head and slammed you further onto his dick. He fucked your face until you were gagging on him. The sound only spurned him on, to keep going and fucking your mouth. 

“Better swallow this shit,” he said. He let loose, cumming with a loud groan. You lied earlier. You wanted to take a picture of him like this. With his eyes closed and his jaw slack. His face scrunched between pleasure and pain. 

His hot load squirted down your throat. You gulped the salty taste of him down. Every last drop. He cursed as he emptied the last of it. He slipped out of your mouth and ran his fingers down your lips. You licked your lips and suckled his thumb into your mouth. 

He gripped your chin and moved your head from side to side. You blinked slowly at him. “You been hidin’ this mouth from me too,” he said. You shook your head with his thumb in your mouth. 

“That’s a’ight. I’ma fuck that shit again. Lay back on the bed,” he said. 

All hints of shyness were gone. You let go of his thumb with a wet pop and scooted further up the bed. This was Tyrone. Your best friend. There was nothing to be shy about. He loved your body. Truly loved it. And by extension, you learned to love it through his eyes. 

He followed you onto the bed, his knees sliding between your legs and pushing until you were completely spread before him. He placed his hands on either side of you, the bed dipping under his strength. 

He leaned on one hand and lined himself up. There was something in the back of your mind, but you couldn’t think what it was. The thought eluded you as he slowly worked his way in. 

His eyes closed and his mouth twisted as he moaned on his way in. He stretched you out, impossibly big. You tensed a bit. You weren’t used to someone quite this big. He noticed and started to kiss you.

He still faintly smelled like you. It was so hot, tasting yourself on his lips that you moaned and clenched around his dick. He groaned and pushed in more as you relaxed. The hand that was around his dick started to rub on your clit and you whimpered and cried. 

You were still so overwhelmed by your last orgasm that you twitched every time he rubbed your clit. 

“Look at you. Can’t even say shit, can you?” He asked. 

You shook your head. “Feels too good. Too fuckin’ good,” you said. 

“Yeah? It’s too much for you?” He pushed in further and your jaw dropped on a soundless scream. 

“Goddamn it, Tyrone!” You slapped at his chest but that only made him chuckle. He grabbed the hand you slapped him with and held it to the bed. He trapped your hand there as he really started to move.

“Oh shit, oh shit,” you groaned. Your other hand pushed at him. Your nails dug into his chest leaving half moon imprints on his pec. 

He increased his pace as he dropped all of his weight on you. His strokes were deeper until you were sure that the tip of his dick was hitting your cervix. “Oh shit, oh fuck,” you said.

“Yeah, talkin’ all that shit. This is what good dick feel like,” he said in your ear. He leaned up, pushing your legs to the bed so that you were neatly folded in half. At this new angle, it was like he unlocked a deeper level inside of you. You felt every inch of his dick. 

“No…condom…” you breathed out. 

“Shit,” he said. His eyes widened but he didn’t stop. “Feel too fuckin’ good to stop. Pussy so fuckin’ tight and wet for me,” he continued. 

You clenched around him. On every stroke, he wrangled more and more incoherent sounds from you. You didn’t know what the hell you were on about. You wanted to be mad that he was hittin’ it raw. But he felt too fucking good. Too fucking right. He belonged there in between your legs. It was a silly idea, but it was true. He was made for you. You had no claim to him. You didn’t know what any of this meant, if it even meant anything. 

So you held on. You scratched at his back wanting to leave some kind of memory behind. Some kind of mark to show that you were there. That you meant something to him. 

“You take me so fuckin’ well. Shit. Good fuckin’ girl,” he said. 

You whined. It was the words you needed. You exploded into a million shards of star dust beneath him. Light blinded you as your orgasm whipped through you once more. Your legs squeezed him and he came with you. He grunted and painted your insides with his cum. He kept stroking as if he was trying to fuck his cum in deeper. Wanting to claim you the same way you wanted to with your nails. 

He dropped onto you, one big sweaty mess. You clung to him, not ready for him to leave just yet. You were still settling down and it felt like you were still fractured. Holding on to him was holding your body together at the moment. 

Slowly, you opened your eyes and he lifted his head. He kissed you once and then twice, lingering. He leaned back and grinned while he panted. Completely spent. 

He caressed your check. It was an unexpected show of gentleness that you didn’t think he was capable of. Don’t get it twisted. Tyrone was dangerous. But in the moment, he was just your best friend. 

He looked at you as if really seeing you for the first time ever. “Stay with me,” he said. 

You grinned and nodded. Yeah, you’ll stay with him. 

&&&

Did you like this? Need more in your life? Check out the other Tyrone fics here: Masterlist

[megamindsecretlair]

Could you do a one shot with mob boss Tyrone?

A/N: My sweet Anon, you asked for one and I present to you seven. Why am I like this?

Blackbird, Part 1: Lust

Pairing: Mob Boss!Fontaine x Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Smut, fluff, angst, cursing, PIV, oral (female and male receiving), dirty talk, praise kink, all consensual. Use of n-word and non-inclusive language. Minor OC backstory.

Summary: You are a dancer trying to make it in a world not built for your body type. Fontaine is a gangster trying to rise through the ranks of a prominent gang. Will love truly conquer all?

Word Count: 10,810k

Part 2

Interested in a Blackbird playlist? I'm not the greatest at curating songs but these remind me of these two. I may add or remove songs at my discretion.

A/N: Listen, I know. I couldn't get this idea out of my head and just kept writing. I'm trying something new here, so any feedback is welcome! 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 @justheretostan @black-fairy3 @superhoeva @jarfulloftears @hereformiles @montysstuffs @westside-rot @blackerthings @blowmymbackout @euphoric05 @miyuhpapayuh @nicolexnight @judymfmoody @notapradagurl7 @soft-persephone @justabovewater20 @soapjay @heyauntieeee @theyscreamsannii @eggnox @honeytoffee @thadelightfulone @tranquilfandomer @kindofaintrovert @l-auteuse @browngirldominion @sunkissedebony97 @lovedlover @issahyland @longpause-awkwardsmile @insburner @slippinninque @thecookiebratz @we-outsiiiide @babybratzmaraj @iv0rysoap @misskiki90 @harmshake @sageispunk @ciaqui @ms-angiealsina @satoruya @hopefulromantic1 @itsbackwoodsbby

Moodboard by the sweestes person ever, planetblaque 🥹🥹🥹

You looked at your watch on your delicate wrist. Night chased the afternoon out of the sky, taking over in their delicate push and pull. Night was safer for confessions. For reflection. 

The sun’s rays slanted through the blinds and you blinked against the bitter light. “My apologies, would you like me to close them?” Your lawyer, Mr. Gates, asked you. 

“Please,” you said. You sighed and adjusted your neat teal dress across your knees. There was nothing to fix, but you supposed you were nervous. After all these years, you thought that you would carry these secrets to the grave. Everything was different now. 

Mr. Gates moved to the window and shut the blinds more fully, draping you in the safe comfort of his office. Mr. Gates had been part of the family for years now, a profession he took seriously. It was refreshing to speak to someone who couldn’t be bought. Who would never fold, not even under threat of death. 

The office had been cleared especially for you, per your request. People liked to gossip. Busybodies, your grandmother called them. The only sound was the low hum of the AC blowing cool air into the room and Mr. Gates shuffling around. 

He finally sat down at his desk, the chair creaking under his weight. He pulled out a small recorder and showed it to you, the exact model you requested. You dipped your chin in acknowledgement. He took out a notebook, new and clean of any writing. You hoped he had enough pens. 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” He asked.

You adjusted your dress once more, running your hands along the fine, silken material. You licked your lips and looked back up at him. “I don’t wanna die without marking the occasion first,” you said with a clipped smile. 

Each day it drew closer to the date, you got used to the idea of dying. You had a good run. It could have been better. But you weren’t one to be greedy. 

Mr. Gates smiled softly, perhaps a little sad. It was nice to know someone would miss you. There would be one person on this earth who’d care if you were gone. That was something. 

Mr. Gates wrote down something on his notepad and pressed a button on the recorder. He cleared his throat and introduced himself, the date, and the time. He asked you to state your name for the record. 

“...of sound mind and body do declare this to be read as my last will and testament.” 

“Goddammit!” You yelled. Your fists thumped against the rough wood of the door as it finished slamming into your face. The asshole on the other side was just as faceless as the long stream of dance companies that tossed you out on your ass. There were plenty more, sure, but this one had been reputable. Fair. 

They took one look at your raggedy dance clothes, worn from too many times around the washer. At your hair, styled high above your head in braids they didn’t understand but were obsessed with. You didn’t have the time or the money to go to a salon. Just once, you’d like someone else to bother with your thick hair and its maintenance. You couldn’t be bothered. 

You’d shave it all off but you didn’t want to deal with the mean and hurtful comments about you looking like a boy. Your knuckles were just getting over being bruised and tender from the last mu’fucka that tried to talk out the side of their neck. 

“Asshole!” You screamed. It was open auditions. Open. Auditions. That meant that anyone could come in and try their hand. You had killed the routine. You only needed to watch something once to get it down. To feel it move through your body like a live wire and your muscles respond. To mimic it to near perfection and add your spin on it. Nothing fancy, just an extra oomph that these companies seemed to lack. 

You had waited to the side with the other girls, all wispy, wafer thin girls who took one look at your curves and deemed you less than. A joke. That you couldn’t possibly move your body like they could.

One had the audacity to allude to that, calling it doing you a favor. Next thing you knew, your fist was flying and she was crying foul, blood running down her aristocratic nose. You just gave her a little more character, honest.

You cursed under your breath and moved away from the building. To hell with them. You shifted your dance bag over your shoulder and walked backwards. The marquee above the door announced an upcoming performance. Below it, there was the name of the headliner, Gabriella Greywood. 

One day, and one day soon, your name would be up there. In bright lights. And no amount of racist, fatphobic fucks were going to stop you. 

You turned and headed down the street, running head first into a person, solidly built by the feel of them. 

“My bad, sweetheart,” a deep, rumbling voice greeted you. 

Your mouth was already fixing to give him hell for not watching where he was going and that you were nobody’s “sweetheart”. The words dried on your tongue as you looked up into a deep set of brown eyes that crinkled a bit in the corner when he smiled. 

He had a low fade and short beard, shaved close to his strong jaw. Pretty, long eyelashes that fanned across his cheeks whenever he blinked. He smirked, checking you out while you ogled him. 

“S’okay,” you said, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. He took in your tights and oversized gray sweatshirt. 

“You heading inside?” He asked. 

“Away from it. Those fucks wouldn’t know talent if it bit them in the ass,” you said.

The man chuckled and nodded, like he liked your honesty. Your words. “Fuck ‘em,” he said, gifting you with another smirk. You wondered what he’d look like when he really smiled. When he let it take up his whole face. 

Too bad you didn’t have time for men. You may be behind most of your friends in that department. Their heads were full of getting married and popping out babies while they were still young. Like they were checking off boxes handed down to them through the generations. Grow up, learn just enough, get married, pop out babies, and then your real life starts once they are grown up with babies of their own. Fuuuck that.

“Where you headed then?” He asked. A noise to his left made you look up and see an entire other man standing next to him. He was a bit taller, broader around the shoulders, with a narrow face and a mischievous look in his eye.

“Home, I guess. Until I find the next studio giving out auditions,” you said. Your attention was solely fixated on the man in front of you. His friend grinned and moved away, lighting up a joint. He put a foot on top of a fire hydrant and pretended to ignore you both. 

“Let me give you a ride,” he said. You couldn’t stop staring at his face. He was magnetic. Like he commanded attention whether you wanted to give it or not. 

You giggled, stomach doing tiny flips. “I don’t know you,” you said, giving him a hint of the attitude you’re famous for. None of this, giggly, braid around your finger nonsense. 

“Get to know me. Let me take you to Scarlet Lounge,” he said. His voice was smooth. Too smooth. 

You crossed your arms and tilted your head. “That’s a gangster bar,” you said. 

“What you got against gangstas?” He asked.

“They’re mean, amoral, kill for no reason, run drugs, and turn out little girls. They’re nothing but bad news,” you said.

“Damn, amoral. That’s a big one,” he said. He chuckled and licked his lips, calling attention to his mouth once more. Your body heated instantly, wanting to know what they taste like. What they feel like on your skin. What his hands would feel like on your skin. 

“Not all gangstas are the same. Maybe some just wanna get over in a life hellbent on kicking them in the teeth,” he said. He put his hands in his pockets and you finally noticed what he was wearing. Simple jeans and a black hoodie, faded from too many washes like your clothes. You felt a sudden kinship with him, an understanding passed between you in being in similar situations. Just two mu’fuckas trying to make it.

“Are you saying you’re a gangsta?” You asked.

“If I say yes, you gon’ hold it against me?” Oh, he was dangerous. Absolutely dangerous. 

You had gone on entire tirades about the level of crime in LA. It was insidious. The dangerous, hopeless underbelly that all kids from the hood grew up with was like a giant dome that prevented anyone from truly getting out. Truly making something of yourself. You either joined a gang, married into a gang, or rode the struggle bus ‘till God called you home.  

You could leave. You could find some area where the people would treat you like a freak or like you didn’t belong but you would be safe. None of them would look like you. Or understand you. Change had to start in the hood. There had to be hope some-fucking-where.

“Probably,” you said. 

He smirked and shook his head. “Cold game. What’s your name, sweetheart?” He asked.

You should walk away. There was no way you could entertain someone like him. No way. Your feet felt rooted to the spot, unwilling to walk away from him or this moment. The more you looked at him, the more you felt connected to him. That each minute you spent in his presence, you felt tiny stitches being woven in between you.  

“I’ll tell you what gangsta boy. We bump into each other again and I’ll tell you my name,” you said. You turned on the balls of your feet, walking backwards away from him.

“You gon’ do me like that? Forreal?” He asked. The corner of his gorgeous mouth lifted higher. It was almost worth staying to see if you could get a real smile out of him. 

“Byeee,” you sang. You giggled, heading towards the train station. You turned around and gave your hips a little extra swish. 

“I’m Fontaine!” He called after you. It took all of your strength not to turn back around. You waved your fingers high in the air but kept walking. You didn’t really think you’d bump into him again. You couldn’t afford the distraction even if you did. You’d head back home to your shitty apartment that you shared with your best friend and regroup. 

You needed to keep your eyes on the prize. You had a future to secure. And it did not involve pretty corner boys who talked smooth.

You finished doing your makeup in the vanity, touching up the bright red lipstick one more time and checked over your outfit. Muted music and cheers reached you into the backroom, from the set before yours. 

Other dancers were touching up their outfits as well, skimpy little things that barely qualified as a costume. The leotards were black with thin stripes, sparkly silver edges that dug into your groin and under your arms. The designer, an evil little bitch with too much hair and a permanent sour expression, thought she was so damn important. Half the time, it was clear that she thought she was too good to design clothes en masse for a dance club. 

You wore fishnet stockings like the others, black leather heeled boots, and a tiny black hat in your hair. You had sparkly glitter dusted across your cheeks so that your eyes would pop. Not that anyone would see you. You were relegated to the back in every single fucking number. 

Everyone here had the same dream as you. It just came down to who was hungrier. Who was going to stick it out. You had been dancing your whole life and you’d be damned to let some wide-eyed, bushy tail ho from Minnesota steal your dream. You’d put in the work, you’d put in your dues, and soon, you’d be headlining your own show. Working with top directors and choreographers. Maybe even get into dancing on TV.

“One minute!” One of the stagehands called into the room. Kimmy approached you and looked at you in the mirror. 

“Another day?” She asked.

“Another dollar,” you said back. 

You both grinned and stood up, heading out of the dressing room and into the chaos backstage. Stagehands moved in a dance all their own, carefully moving around each other with headsets squawking with directions you couldn’t hear. Coordinating the lights and music, curtains, and set decorations. 

The previous music was coming to a close, ending on a loud roaring beat that you felt down to your toes. Adrenaline thumped through you. Despite whatever else you went through, this made sense. This was the time that your mind finally shut up. That your focus on your dreams drifted to the back and all you had to do was feel the music. The euphoria that came with losing all sense of identity while dancing.

You stood on the stairs on the left side of the stage, too far away to see the current set; you’d seen the performance so many times you had it memorized. The group before you had done a circus themed dance, full of contortionists, flips, and tumbles. The performers worked hard to make it look so seamless, you were in awe every time. 

They were due to exit on the right, to not interrupt your group. Their song ended, the curtains closing and claps echoing throughout the club. You were shuffled on stage, getting into position in the far back. Haters. Whatever. 

Stagehands used pulleys to change the scenery behind you, to an alleyway facade. There was a fake brick wall beside you getting rolled in. The announcer, the sleazeball Rusty, was on stage and getting everyone pumped up. 

You looked at Kimmy and made a face and she giggled, waving you off. The music for your number started to play, a slow and sexy jam. You were supposed to be a lady mafia, punishing men in a cold dark alley. 

Once the curtains were open and the spotlight hit you in the face, you were gone. There was only the part you played, filling in the background while the lead dazzled the audience. You told yourself not to care, but deep down you did. It was disheartening to know that in your heart of hearts, you were more talented. You were a better dancer. You just refused to suck Rusty’s dick to get to the top. 

So you focused on the music, on the dance, and executed it flawlessly. You were in the back now, but you weren’t going to stay there. You didn’t see the audience, you didn’t see the idiots at the bar, and you didn’t see any of the VIPs in the back, scoping out the dancers to see which ones they wanted to bring to the private backrooms for a “dance”. 

You didn’t play that shit. You were too spiteful, too hateful, too outspoken. And you’d continue to do so. You had to take a pay cut to not be involved with that shit. It was illegal and unfair, but it beat spreading your legs for dirty cops and gangstas. 

As you danced, your mind was partially split between what you were doing and the man you met the other day. Fontaine. You couldn’t stop saying his name. It rolled so well off of the tongue. Fontaaaine. 

You nearly missed a step and mentally slapped yourself. You focused on the dance, lots of gyrating and popping your hips. Lots of slow glides down to the floor and rolling your back. Invisible prop assistants threw you all fake uzis and you ended the dance facing away from the crowd. You jerked your hand to pretend like you were shooting a gun into the alleyway while a group of male dancers pretended to die.

The crowd cheered behind you but your mind was already beating yourself up. Already going over what you could have done better. It’d help if your performances were recorded but for the “privacy of its patrons”, Rusty wouldn’t let anyone record inside. Phones had to be off or silent and there were plenty of bouncers willing to break expensive phones to ensure everyone’s “safety”. 

Among the last to leave the stage, you turned to walk back to the dressing room. It didn’t feel like thirty minutes went by. You were sweating buckets though. Fat little droplets soaking your leotard and dripping from your temples. 

“Aye!” You turned to the sound. “Over here!” 

You knew better than to follow some strange sound around backstage, but the voice sounded familiar. Like warm caramel. You looked towards the front, where a bouncer stood to ensure that no one slipped past the curtain. 

“Over here!” You walked towards the darkened back, following the sound. There stood Fontaine, standing behind a storage door. He smirked when he saw you. 

“What are you doing back here?” You rushed over to him, pushing him into the storage room. You looked for people behind you. This area was where dancers left so it was hardly used for anything else. There were old decorations here, forgotten sets that needed to be stripped and repainted. 

Fontaine’s callused hands pulled you into the storage room. Somehow, he found the lone lamp that worked and the soft light filled the room. It was junky. Full of chairs, tables, tablecloths. The overflow supplies. 

“You said if we bumped into each other again, you’d tell me your name,” he said. 

“This isn’t bumping into each other,” you pointed out. Your hands were still around his arms and his hands had relocated your hips. 

“Sheeit, this is better,” he said. 

You shook your head. “What are you doing here, gangsta boy?” You asked.

“Tell me your name first,” he said. He cocked his head to the side, letting you get a glimpse of his dark eyes. 

A deal was a deal, you guessed. You told him your name and he rolled it around his tongue like cotton candy. “I like that, suits you,” he said.

“Your turn,” you said.

“Scarlets run this place, you ain’t know?” He asked.

“You work for Porter Sommer?” You asked. Porter Sommer was a ruthless drug kingpin that ran all of South Central. There wasn’t shit that went down in the hood that he didn’t have a fat little finger in. You’d only seen him once and it was enough to turn your stomach. He had dead eyes like a shark. 

“He ain’t all that, I swear,” Fontaine said, shaking his head. “He the only nigga that give back ‘round here.”

“Give back? He got kids doing drugs in the parking lot before their parents pick them up. He shake niggas down for every last nickel they got,” you said. 

“That ain’t us. That’s that bitch Shayne,” Fontaine said. He shook his head. “I ain’t come here for all that. I saw you on stage and I had to tell you that you were amazing.”

Now that you knew who he worked for, you weren’t sure if you wanted to continue dealing with him. You hadn’t given much thought to which side of the street he fell on. The Crips and the Bloods thought they were the top bosses in LA, aggressively defending square blocks they didn't own.

Porter Sommer and Shayne Blandford were the real OGs. They actually bought up the houses and stores on the blocks, doing their hardest to outbid each other at every opportunity. They both preyed on the weak and didn’t care who got caught in their crossfires. 

Fontaine looked at you with such admiration though. Like he saw you. Like you weren’t just another dancer on stage. That he saw you with the same lights shining on you that you pictured in your head. 

You stepped away from him to try to get some clarity. Obviously, touching him and getting that close to him was addling your brain. You were seriously thinking about entertaining a bad boy. One of the worst.

“What do you do for Porter then?” You asked. You crossed your arms. 

Fontaine sighed and leaned back against an old desk. It wobbled under his weight and he looked down at it but then turned his attention back to you. “Do it matter? You gon’ judge me for it anyway,” he said.

“I’m not judging that you’re a corner boy. I’m judging that you work for Porter. That man is…scary,” you said.

“He a’ight,” Fontaine said with a shrug. “And I ain’t no corner boy no mo. Ya boy moved up and shit,” he said. He smirked and you could see him puffing his chest out. You giggled. He looked so proud of that fact. 

You wanted to keep up your defenses against him. You wanted to walk out of the room and tell him to get lost. You could not get your head turned out by a gangsta. You didn’t have the heart for that kind of life. Why did you have to meet someone like him and he was bad news? 

“Moved up how?” You asked. 

“Protection services,” he said and waggled his eyebrows. You rolled your eyes playfully and couldn’t fight the grin that ran across your face. Whether he was outside or in this dingy ass room, he carried the same level of magnetism. Charisma. 

“I cannot with you,” you said. 

Fontaine stood up and slowly walked over to you. He had a mean ass lean to it that caused your stomach to flip in response. He was the total package, both in looks and wit. But, but, but. 

He stood before you and clasped his hands behind his back. “I feel something. And I know you feel something too. I’d like to get to know you, sweetheart. Let me change your mind about gangstas,” he said.

“I don’t pay attention to words, gangsta boy. Your world is dangerous,” you said. 

“You watch too many movies. Real gangstas talk and shit,” he said. He smirked and swayed from side to side. He was hypnotic. You swayed with him like he casted a spell on your body. Each word he spoke wove magic through your veins. 

“Oh, really? Bunch of backroom deals and offers people can’t refuse?” You asked. You began to back towards the door. The only way to survive Fontaine was to escape. To remove yourself from the situation. With his voice and the way he spun words, he’d be liable to talk you right off of the City Hall building. 

“Let me find out you like gangsta movies and you just giving me a hard time,” he said. He looked at you and slowly began to approach you. You had nowhere left to go. Your back was against the door. 

“Maybe I just like giving you a hard time,” you said. You moved your hand behind you until your hand touched the cool metal of the doorknob. Fontaine’s mouth twitched but it wasn’t a smile. Dammit, you wanted to see him smile. 

His minty breath fanned across your face as he leaned closer. You bit your lip. “I’on know if you heard me, but I’m in the protection game now. You don’t have to worry about anything ever again, I’m gon’ give you the world,” he said.

You smiled, letting his words fill up your head like fresh, doughy clouds after a storm. Plenty of people talked a good game. There was a long line of disappointing men who talked and talked but never backed it up. Starting with your daddy. Fontaine’s voice had the deep rumble of conviction behind it. He meant every single word. And you had no doubt that he could back it up. 

But, but, but.

“I can’t be bought, Fontaine. I never asked for the world,” you said. 

“I know. I’m gon’ give it to you anyway. With a matching moon,” he said. 

You dropped your eyes from his intense gaze. The light didn’t quite reach this far, so you two practically stood in shadow. He blended into the shadow. Welcomed it. Like he lived and breathed in it. 

“I’m a man of action. And I’ll prove it.” He dropped his head and kissed you. Electricity zapped your lips. His kiss was languid. Slow. Tongue already working its way inside your mouth like it owned it. Your hands came around his neck to pull him closer. 

The kiss was intense, disconcerting. He knew exactly what to do too, alternating kisses and little nibbles. Your wet lips smacked against his and your pussy throbbed. He pushed you into the door, hands gripping onto your hips like he was holding on for dear life. 

If he was magnetic before, it paled in comparison to touching him. Feeling him. You felt him everywhere. Each kiss sucked you further down into the shadows with him and you never wanted to taste the light again.

You paused here and took a deep breath. Mr. Gates cleared his throat and paused the recorder. “Do you want to skip this part?” He asked.

So kind. Mr. Gates was always so kind. He was a rare breed compared to all the men in your life. Especially when compared to Fontaine. However, Fontaine had no equal. There was no one who came close. 

That first kiss ought to have been where you drew the line. You knew better than to sit in storage rooms with strange men and let them kiss you. Let them feel on your booty. Just remembering it, brought heat to your cheeks and to your core. You felt the ghost of Fontaine’s hands on your legs, on your hips. That playful smirk tickling your neck.

You shook your head. “I just need a minute. I-I need him to know that it was always real for me. That I went into it with both eyes open,” you said. 

Mr. Gates nodded and got up, leaving his office for a moment. Your mind wandered, thinking back to those early days. From bumping into Fontaine to everything that followed after. Like the Hand of God tripped you over Fontaine’s feet so that you would meet. Would know. So that you would know each other and know what it was like to love with your entire body. 

Moments later, you collected yourself. Mr. Gates seemed to know exactly when. He came back into the office without any prodding from you. You smiled at his kind, grandfatherly face. He had white hair sticking out the sides of his head. You bet he was a player when he was younger. 

“Would you like to continue?” He asked.

You took a deep breath. “Yes, where was I? Um…so, Fontaine did exactly that. He proved with more than his words that we had something songs got written about…”

Fontaine attended every performance every night you worked. You were still in the background and he looked at you as if the spotlight was on you. He didn’t help your ego at all. 

After every night, he’d somehow sneak backstage with a single red rose to tell you that you were the best dancer up there. He stole kisses after each one too. At this point, you didn’t know why you were still resisting him. You weren’t some prude waiting for a man to drop to one knee; you didn’t believe in that shit. 

There was something a little hot about making him sweat it out. Something a little erotic about heavy petting and making out and living in the moment spent with your lips colliding and tongues exploring. With his hands around your ass and your hand rubbing him over his jeans. 

You hadn’t had many occasions to lust after someone. Sometimes guys made you crane your neck, but you had a single minded focus that saw you through your shitty childhood, through your awkward teenage years, through screaming matches, and slammed doors. You got what you needed from guys, the only things they were really good for, and you left them high and dry. You left them while spit flew from their mouths as they called you bitches, hos, and anything else their little brains could think of.

Funny how once you treated boys how they treated you, you were suddenly the devil incarnate. 

But you lusted. Every dip of Fontaine’s hips made your body respond in kind. Like he had a direct line to your pussy and constantly tugged on it to drive you crazy. He knew the effect he had on you too. 

He always made sure to blow you a kiss while you were on stage. When he smirked, he liked to look at you out of the corner of his eyes. He made sure to grab your ass while making out, squeezing them like trying to get juice from a lemon. Oh and when he got to rubbing his stubble along your neck, your eyes would roll back and he’d tell you to quit being so cute before he dicked you down. 

Fontaine made you hot and bothered. In more ways than one. As much as you were interested in him, you still hated what he had to do to survive. You understood the game, but it didn’t mean you had to love it. 

When you weren’t on stage and you were taking your break, waiting for the next set, you would sneak out to the front of the house so that you could see the performances, see what worked and what didn’t. Sometimes you’d grab a drink and wait for Fontaine to sneak away to kiss you. 

And sometimes you’d see him heading to the private rooms, escorting your fellow dancers and whichever powerful men wanted to use them for the night. Rusty was always there with a grin on his face and dollar signs in his eyes. It was disgusting. 

Rusty never touched anyone but your best friend Kimmy. He took one look at her and fell ass over teakettle for your sweet friend who had a kid to look after. On top of paying her a little more, Rusty rented an apartment for Kimmy and her kid. She didn’t think anything of the little bargain. One man was better than a revolving door. 

Sometimes anger boiled in your veins at the mere thought. You wanted to burn this place to the ground. It was true that you chose to come here, night after night. However, dancing was the only thing that kept the anger at bay. Well, that wasn’t entirely true anymore. 

As Fontaine walked around the tables on his way to you, you found unexpectedly that his presence tamed the wildness of your anger. It wasn’t completely gone. The slightest thing would set you off. Until you bubbled over like a volcanic eruption, burning everything and everyone in your path. You weren’t like that with Fontaine. You didn’t want to be like that with Fontaine. And all it took was a few dozen roses and sweet stolen kisses. 

“Hey sweetheart,” he said, one corner of his mouth lifting. He was starting to grow his hair out. Since he moved to protection, he started dressing a little fancier. Dickies instead of jeans, plain T-shirts instead of whatever graphic tee caught his fancy. 

Fontaine dressed all in black did things to your libido that wasn’t fit for mixed company. The short sleeved black tee seemed like he bought a size down on purpose, to emphasize his muscles. 

“Hey you,” you said. 

“Isaac was telling me about the Fair. We should go,” he said. 

“The Fair? What we gonna do there?” You asked. 

“I’on know. Fair shit,” he said, that damn smirk. You were going to get him to smile if it was going to be the last thing you did on this earth. 

“You gon’ win me a teddy bear?” The question popped out before you could think about it and snatch it right back. You wished you could swallow the words, unring the bell, and ask him something different. Something that wasn’t a little too close to home. You always wanted someone to win you a teddy bear from one of those Fair games, carry it around for you. 

But that shit was for other, softer girls and men who actually gave a damn. For TV movies and shows with people who didn’t look like you. 

“I’m gon’ win the biggest one. So Friday night?” He asked. 

“Friday night,” you agreed, little butterflies taking flight in your stomach. 

“It’s a date sweetheart,” he said. He kissed your cheek and you watched his generous backside as he went back to the backrooms, making sure your friends were safe. As much as they could be. 

When he approached the door, Issac came out of it looking self satisfied. The corner of your mouth lifted in a grimace. Isaac was attractive but something was throwing you off about him. Whether it was his vibe or the oily way he looked at everybody, Fontaine included, you made a mental note to get the full story behind them.

It was obvious that they were close and did next to everything together. Issac said something to Fontaine who shook his head but bumped fists with Isaac. It’d have to be none of your business for now. 

Friday night rolled around and Fontaine was punctual in his champagne colored 90s Cadillac. You didn’t know much about cars, but you knew enough to appreciate the craftsmanship and that Fontaine lovingly took care of it.

It was shined to gleaming, silver chrome glinting from the streetlamps. Night was fast approaching and you had a long drive to Pomona, to the Fairgrounds. It was the first time in his car and you had to admit, you were a little nervous. 

Fontaine got out of the car and you had to whistle at him. He wore black jeans, black boots, and a red flannel buttoned up. The top two buttons were out, giving you a peek of a black tank underneath. He wore his signature jacket, the same one he wore when you met. You had half a mind to say fuck the Fair and invite him inside. 

“I know where yo nasty ass mind is at,” he said as he came around to the street to greet you with a kiss on your cheek. He handed you a single red rose.

“What you talkin’ ‘bout?” You asked.

“I know I look good,” he said. He smirked and stepped out, showing you his outfit. He dusted invisible lint from the front of his shirt and you laughed. 

“You really do look good,” you said. 

“But you look good enough to lick on,” he said. He bit his lip and eyed your outfit, a spaghetti strap dress with a modestly low neckline and blue and red ombre colors. It started out royal blue at the top until it began to lighten around the hips, turning into a jam red at the bottom. 

“And you call me nasty,” you said. You tapped his shoulder and his cheeks puffed up. You half thought you were going to get a smile but he stopped himself at the last minute. 

“Just telling the truth. Matter of fact, you look too damn good. I’on wanna spend the night catching bodies behind yo cute ass,” he said.

“Shut up!” You giggled. Fontaine said the cutest shit sometimes. Threatening murder behind you was not sexy, but when it dropped from his lips it was. It was a type of possession you didn’t think you craved, but you did. You wanted to belong to him in every sense of the word. 

Fontaine escorted you into the street and opened the door for you. You slid inside his car, smoothing your dress over the leather seats. It smelled clean, like some type of mountain scent laced with the particular smell of weed. Fontaine closed the door and walked around the front, climbing in himself. 

Low, thumping hip hop music was on in his car and you looked at him. This was different. He was different. And you only wanted to see where the night took you. 

As Fontaine got onto the 10 freeway, he got comfortable and leaned back in his seat. The seat was further back still and you got the sense that it stayed a little too far back on purpose. He kept his left hand on the wheel and dropped his other hand to your knee. 

You looked at it and it felt right. His hand was warm across your knee and you sunk into the seat, placing your hand over his. The corner of his mouth lifted as you began to speak and get to know each other beyond just his kisses. 

“How long you think you gon’ be a gangsta?” You asked.

“Damn girl. Not even gon’ ask me what my favorite color is?” He asked. The red lights from the cars in front of you lit up his face and you found that red suited him well. The starkness of the color played across his features in a way that made him seem timeless. 

“I already know what yo favorite color is,” you said.

“What?” He asked. He rubbed this thumb across your knee and you lost the ability to think for a minute. 

Everybody Loves the Sunshine played on his stereo and you shook your thoughts loose finally. “It’s purple,” you said.

Fontaine chuckled and shook his head. “Oh, you been paying attention to a nigga, huh?” He asked. 

“Whatever, Fontaine,” you said.

“Love it when you say my name. You draw it out and shit,” he said. 

“I do not! Just answer my question!” 

Fontaine was silent for a moment, weaving in and out of crazy LA traffic. Every year it got worse and worse. To the point that you almost didn’t want to leave the house most days. It was why you started taking the train more. It sucked, but it beat dealing with the mu’fuckas that continued to flock here chasing their paper dreams. 

“I’on know how to do anything else. That 9-5 ain’t me,” he finally said, his voice smooth and low. “I need to know if that’s ever going to be a problem. If you can ever accept that this is the life I’m in.”

He slanted his eyes towards you. This was the most serious you’d ever seen him. And Fontaine was a pretty serious person more often than not. He got this look in his eyes, like he saw the world burning before him and didn’t want to bother grabbing a bucket of water to help. Like he liked it. 

“I won’t promise to never speak on it. I’m…scared to lose you,” you said. You were surprised it was true. You made him sweat for a month, turning down his date ideas just to see what he would do. Testing him, you supposed. If he was in it for you or for what you had between your legs. Usually you could tell the difference with perfect accuracy.

When it came to Fontaine, nothing was certain. And you didn’t know if that scared you to the point of attraction, or turned you on to the point of fear. 

Fontaine squeezed your knee. “You don’t gotta worry about that, sweetheart. It’s me and you,” he said.

Me and you. Those three little words planted themselves inside you, taking root and growing vines around your bones. Sprouting leaves in your lungs and stretched towards your brain, filling it with the oxygen you needed to breathe. Three little words. The wonder of it brought unexpected tears to your eyes. 

You grinned at Fontaine. For the rest of the car ride, you got to know more about him. More about his little brother who was killed and why he joined the Scarlets. Why he took up a gun and was never putting it down again.

It made more sense in context. The circumstances were always fucked in the hood. And the tender heart you tried so hard to guard against all evil only broke more for Fontaine. He told you about how his mother retreated into herself. Only got herself together long enough to fake the funk at work and then disappeared into her room. 

With mounting bills and not wanting to live off anyone, Fontaine did what any other Black male did in his situation. He grew up. 

You told him about your toxic childhood. How your parents alternated between fighting and fucking. That when your dad was lost to the drink, he’d look at you like you were a stranger. And when he sobered up, he looked at you like you were a princess atop a castle. You never knew which side you were going to wake up to.

You told him about your mother and how she always seemed to be jealous of you. Like there was some aspect about how she raised you that she didn’t like. That it was your fault for taking her instruction to heart and not giving a fuck about what anyone said. You wanted something, you went after it. 

There was no love in your house so you got out when you were 17 and never looked back. Fuck them. You didn’t want to stay in that house anyway. 

Reaching the Fairgrounds, you and Fontaine turned to lighter subjects. How or why you got into dancing. Your favorite dancer was Debbie Allen. You wanted to be her so badly that you studied every move she ever made. That you went for ballet because that was where she started. 

She was able to get into TV but that wasn’t really where you wanted to be. Maybe when you got older and your knees started to rebel. For right now, you just wanted to dance. To be free. 

You held hands with Fontaine, talking and laughing while you pulled each other around the Fairgrounds. You’d only been once, when you were younger, and hadn’t bothered since then. 

There were rides and the sizzling smells of meat that made your mouth water. Desserts, weird food combinations like a Krispy Kreme donut burger, and the sounds of children’s laughter. The ground was littered with wrappers, coupons, and papers. 

Fontaine paid for your play cards, dropping a wad of money that made your eyes bug out. He kissed your cheek and told you to go nuts. Anything you wanted to do or try. There was no limit. You told him that he was crazy. 

“The world and the moon to match, sweetheart,” he whispered against your lips. You grinned and dragged him everywhere. On the ferris wheel, on the spinning ride, and on the zero gravity one until your stomach hurt so badly that you had to sit down. Your head spun painfully and Fontaine rubbed your hand while you giggled about it.

You went into the funhouse with its crazy mirrors. Fontaine only had one request, that you go on the haunted ride with him. You were determined to stay far away from it. You hated the feeling of being scared. He peppered your cheeks with kisses until you relented and got on with him.

You suspected that was his plan all along. To have you clutch onto him for dear life. He chuckled at your theatrics but didn’t make you feel bad.

“Come on, girl, I got you,” he said. He kissed your cheek and pulled you into the safe embrace of his arms. You giggled. You was gon’ have his babies if he kept doing cute shit like this. 

After that ride, you settled on Pink’s for dinner. The smoke from the truck was whipped into the sky by a bitter breeze. You should have brought a jacket. You forgot how fucking cold it got at night out here. 

Without saying a word, Fontaine made you wear his jacket. You attempted to tell him that it was okay, if nothing else yo mama ain’t raise no bitch, but he refused to take it back. “I’m hot anyway,” he said. 

You grinned, looking up at him. He winked at you and ordered you food. You ate and laughed and talked about nothing in particular. Shit you found on TV. Movies you happened across. Books you’ve read. Music you listened to. 

You yawned and leaned your head against him after another round of rides and dessert. A huge funnel cake topped with ice cream and chocolate drizzle. Fontaine had to help you finish it in the end.

“You gon’ have to roll me out of here after all this,” you said, licking your spoon for every wayward swipe of chocolate and smacking your lips with a loud pop. When Fontaine didn’t say anything, you turned towards him. His gaze was fixed on your mouth. 

“Fontaine?” You asked. 

He gripped your chin between his thumb and forefinger, bringing you closer. He licked the corner of your mouth and you moaned, feeling his hot tongue on your cold face. He hummed in the back of his throat. 

“Delicious,” he said. 

He pulled back with a smirk, rubbed your chin, and pulled back. Your whole body heated. Cascading down your body in waves. You rubbed your thighs together, wetness starting to pool in your panties. 

“We got a little more to spend before we dip. Let’s get you that teddy bear,” he said.

“I was just joking about that,” you said. You gulped around the tension. So thick, it stuck in your throat. 

“I wasn’t,” he said. He stood up from the bench and held out his hand. You took it, hand fitting his like a glove. He threw out the plate you finished up and tucked you into his side while he walked.

In the middle of the grounds, there was a row of carnival games like ring toss and popping balloons. There was also a basketball hoop. Fontaine made a beeline for it, rolling up the sleeves of his flannel. A staff member scanned the play card and loaded up the basketballs for Fontaine.

He tested the balls and soon, started sinking ball after ball. Your mouth dropped open. He could’ve been a basketball player with that lethal game! The staff member told you to pick out a small teddy bear. Fontaine stopped you. 

“One game is a small teddy bear, but three mediums is a big one right?” Fontaine asked.

The staff member, some pimply kid, popped his gum and nodded. Fontaine loaded up more games, winning each and every one until you had three medium ones and exchanged it for a giant fuzzy teddy bear. It was so big! You squealed when the staff member handed it to Fontaine. He chuckled at your reaction. 

You squeezed one of the arms and couldn’t help jumping up and down. You were happy to take the small teddy bear. But the fact that he kept going made your heart soar. “Worth it just to see your face,” he said. You kissed his cheek a hundred times and he finally smiled.

It felt like your world narrowed to that expression on his face. Watching his whole face light up and eyes crinkle. He had a wide smile that took up his whole face. His smile was infectious but you were too dumbstruck to smile back. 

“Come on,” you said. You grabbed his hand and pulled him forward.

“Where we going?” He asked.

“I wanna remember tonight. And you better smile!” He chuckled while you pulled him to the nearest photobooth. You probably should have done this before winning the bear, but fuck it. Tonight had been nothing short of perfect and you wanted to capture this moment the best way you could think of. Like those shows and movies did. With something real. Not just something captured on your phone. 

You wanted it in your hands. You wanted to slide it into a binder so that you could look at it over and over while in class. Daydream about him in between lockers and free time. Glance at him from across the way on the courtyard. Dance with him at Homecoming. He made you feel young, like you were back in high school with your first crush. Fontaine was everything. Absolutely everything. 

The teddy did fit, and you scooted in first. Fontaine chuckled and sat down next to you. He swiped the card and it began to give you instructions. Fontaine was serious the first go around, mean mugging the camera. 

“Forreal this time!” You giggled. 

Fontaine sighed and rubbed his head. “A’ight, a’ight,” he said. He loaded it up once more. He kissed you in the first picture. Then you did a few silly ones. He tickled you for one of them. On the last one, you couldn’t think of what to do next. So you just looked at him. He looked at you. The camera flashed and you saw it reflected in his beautiful eyes. 

You continued staring at each other until the booth buzzed, wanting to know how many copies you wanted. You printed two and finally scooted out. Fontaine scooped up the two cards and you placed your head on his shoulder to look at them. 

“Thank you, Fontaine. For everything,” you said. He just…he had no fucking clue what tonight meant to you.

“The world and the moon to match, sweetheart. You ain’t gotta thank me for this,” he said.

“Yes, I do. And I know just how to thank you,” you said. Your voice turned a little flirty and you lifted your head to look at him. He looked down at you and smirked. 

“Is that right?” He asked, licking his lips. 

“Yup. We better get back to my place before my roommate gets home,” you said. 

Fontaine took your hand and tugged you towards the entrance. You giggled the entire way, feeling giddy and light in a way you hadn’t in a really long time. Fontaine gave you that. Gave you that freeing feeling back. You thought you’d lost it when you accepted that your parents didn’t know how to love you. 

His Cadiallac sped down the open freeway, too late for the out of town mu’fuckas to fuck it up for everyone else. The windows were down and the wind rushed through the car with wild abandon. He drove safely, but fast towards your place, hand on your knee the whole way. 

The tension was back with a vengeance. Like you were both standing on top of a cliff somewhere ready to dive off. Heat pooled along with your arousal between your thighs and you couldn’t stop clenching them. 

Lust. Lust was a powerful thing. Detonating bombs in your core until you were practically drunk on them. Looking forward to them. Until there was only the dirty thoughts running through your mind and the feel of his callused hand on your knee. 

Fontaine managed to find a spot on your street. You were on the wrong side of Stocker, where you had to get to the spot faster than your neighbor. Fontaine got out first and then opened the door for you. He even grabbed the teddy for you so he didn’t have to come back outside for it. 

You pulled him into your crappy apartment that you shared with Kimmy. Considering Rusty was paying for it, it could have been worse. You still owed rent to him and had to clear out when he wanted to ditch his wife and come mess with Kimmy. She was out with her son and likely wouldn’t be back until sometime Sunday. You didn’t tell Fontaine this. You didn’t want him to think that you were plotting on him. 

But you were. You weren’t sure if he was the type to stay after sex, or once he got off, he was already looking for his pants. You wouldn’t really bring him upstairs if it was the latter. You got the feeling that he was a little clingy under that hard facade. 

You only turned on enough light to get across the living room and into your room. You turned on the lamp. Both of you were breathing heavily. Bodies preparing to experience an unparalleled pleasure. 

Fontaine gripped your hips and you giggled, accepting the kiss he laid on you. The ones before had been tame. He had been holding himself back. These were wilder. Crazier. Lips smashing into yours with a desperate plea to get closer and stay closer. 

He pushed his jacket off of your shoulders and you worked on the buttons of his flannel. He helped you pull it off of him and you licked your lips at your first real look at his body. At the tattoos down both sides of his arms. You didn’t have time to catalog them all, but you would eventually. You were going to lick and trace every single one of them.

He was thick in all the right places. A hard stomach and big arms. His stubble tickled your chin while he started to kiss your cheeks and your neck. You were a twisting mess of flailing arms and legs trying to get out of your sandals, his shoes, and his pants while working your way over to the bed.

You pushed him to sit on it and he bounced with a small chuckle. You dropped to your knees, tugging at the zipper of his jeans. “Yo, what you doin’? Ladies first,” he said.

You leaned up and kissed him. “I appreciate that, but I said I wanted to thank you proper,” you said. 

“Sheeit, don’t let me stop you then,” he said. He grinned, gifting you with another rare smile from him. It fueled your desire. 

You tore desperately at his pants and briefs, freeing his long, thick dick. You moaned at the sight of it. The tip already weeped, precum beading. You swiped your tongue at it and Fontaine moaned, rolling his neck. 

You continued to please him, licking him in certain spots trying to learn what turned him on. What made his dick twitch in your hands or his balls jerk. You wrapped your lips around his thick head and sucked him down. 

“Fuck! Just like that!” Fontaine groaned. His hands disappeared into your braids, tugging on it. You groaned around his dick and he hissed in return. You batted your eyes at him and sucked him for real this time. No more teasing. No more games. No more tests.

You drooled on his dick, growing wetter at the act. You could practically feel him inside you already, ruining you for any other man. You used both of your hands to please him where your mouth couldn’t reach. 

Sputtered words and soft commands filled your ears on top of you gulping him down. “Mm, suck that shit down, sweetheart,” he groaned.

That spurred you on, that you were doing a good job. You gripped his thighs and leaned up to take more of him. “Gah damn,” he said and licked his lips. 

You took him in deeper, as far as you were able without using your hands. You breathed where you could. The only thing that mattered was letting him know what this night meant to you. What he meant to you. 

You slurped on his dick, letting the spit lube up more of his dick for you to slide on him. His moans grew louder, fingers clutching your braids harder. “I’m finna bust,” he groaned.

You kept going. As if that was supposed to stop you? That was the goal! You wanted him to bust. You wanted to empty his balls into your mouth. You wanted to taste every ounce of his cum in the back of your throat.

He gasped and he was unleashing himself inside you, filling your mouth with him. You swallowed him down and moaned, arousal leaking from you. Pussy throbbing. 

Fontaine grabbed his dick and pulled him from your mouth, tapping the head against your lips. You kissed him and he smirked. “You a bad one, ain’t you?” He asked.

You shook your head. “Oh? You a good girl?” He asked.

You nodded. He hummed, the low vibration sending signals down to your pussy. “Good girls get rewards don’t they?” 

You nodded, too struck dumb by him to say anything else. What was there to say? If you opened your mouth, all kinds of sticky, gooey, lovey dovey shit would fall out and you’d never been good at that. 

Fontaine stood up and helped you to stand, he kissed you, not caring that he just finished in your mouth. You loved a nasty nigga. He unzipped your dress and kissed your shoulders while it fell from your body.

He unhooked your strapless bra, freeing your titties and licking his lips at the look of you. “Like two little chocolate kisses for me,” he said. His lips descended on them, suckling each one and learning the shape and feel of them in his mouth. 

His hands worked your panties off, pushing them off your legs. He kissed on your chest as he laid you down and now it was his turn to get on his knees. His turn to push his head between your legs and suckle his way past your pussy lips. 

“Oh fuck!” You moaned. His tongue was a gift from the gods. Long and big, he flattened it against your pussy and moved his head in circles. Your breaths shuddered and your body twisted, legs shaking. 

He pulled the orgasm from you like it was his divine right and you screamed out, lungs burning with the effort. Fontaine kissed your thighs and your belly, wiping your essence off on you.

“Let me taste,” you begged. Fontaine chuckled and climbed up your body and kissed you, letting you taste just how wild he made you. You scratched up and down his chest and back, pulling him closer. 

“Let me feed you this dick,” he said.

“Feed it to me, baby,” you moaned.

He gifted you with another grin. Wide smile and crinkly eyes that you wanted to swim in. He pushed his jeans completely off and next went his black tank. He didn’t have any tattoos across his spacious chest and you ran your hands over him, learning every mole or scratch on him. 

He had a faint scar across his shoulder and you traced it with your thumb. You didn’t have time to ask him about it before his dick was pushing at your entrance.

You hissed and pushed on his chest. You were sure you were wet enough, but he was still massive. “Slow! Slow!” You cried.

He tilted his head and moved his hips, pushing deeper into you. Once the tip was in, he shoved all the way in with one hard thrust. You gasped, your mouth forming a perfect ‘O’ as he stretched you out with a bite of pain.

You slapped at his shoulder. “I said slow!” 

He chuckled and kissed you, trying to ease the sting. “I can’t help it. You so fuckin’ wet. I need you,” he moaned. He fed you long, deep strokes touching a deep, sweet place inside of you that might’ve been your soul. Like he wanted to write his name in the very fabric of you and never lose you. 

You gasped as he delivered these strokes, hissing when he hit that deep spot again and again. Your legs began to shake in earnest. “Mhm, don’t hold it, sweetheart. Let that shit go and lemme feel it.”

“Fon-tai–” you moaned.

“Shhh, I know you wanna call my name. I know you do. But all you gotta do is focus on that nut. Focus on my voice,” he asked.

He stretched you perfectly. And from how much arousal there was, it was staining your sheets. You were sliding up and down on his dick now, titties flapping from the strength of his strokes. 

He moaned, watching the expressions play out over your face. He cupped one of your titties, pushing down to hold you in place while he fucked you. “Mhm, doing so good, sweetheart. So good, focusing on you. Focusing on what I’m giving you.”

“Oh god, oh god,” you moaned, eyes rolling back in your head.

“Shit, just like that baby. Grip it just like that,” he moaned. 

Your cries turned wild, keening, and loud while you gripped onto him and shook and twitched through your orgasm. He hummed while you did so. Satisfied with himself. 

“You-you didn’t…” 

“I know, turn over,” he said. His deep voice let you know that he wasn’t playing. Somehow, you found the strength to flip over. He smacked your ass, watching it jiggle.

He entered you once more and you cried out. You would never get used to his size. Never get used to him slamming and stroking inside of you. 

“Fuck!” You moaned. 

“Yeah, I know,” he said. You could hear the smile in his voice. Hear how he knew exactly what you needed.

He gripped big chunks of your ass and used it like handles to slam you down on his dick, faster, and harder. Your elbows ached from trying to brace yourself against him. You slammed back, giving as much as you were taking.

“Ouue, that’s my good girl. You show me what you got,” he encouraged.

You continued to throw it back, craning your neck in time to see him throw his head back, surrendering to your pussy. It was enough to make you cry out, back bowing to another powerful, earth-shattering, world-altering orgasm. 

“Take that shit, baby,” he moaned and then finally climaxed, pumping you full of his delicious cum. 

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, I need it, baby,” you moaned. 

“I know you do,” he grunted as his dick stopped pulsing. His cum leaked out of you as he pulled out. He spread your ass cheeks to watch. He slapped your ass when you were sure no more would come out. You were thoroughly stuffed like a twinkie. 

Fontaine left the room and you collapsed forward onto the bed, strength leaving you. A bit of nervousness crept in its place though. You wanted to ask him to stay. You wanted to roll over and be all sexy and enticing. As much game as you talked, sometimes you had moments where you couldn’t make your mouth move. 

Fontaine came back into the room with a warm rag to clean you off. You moaned and he rubbed your ass as he cleaned off your thighs as well. You sluggishly rolled over and smiled at him.

“You’re so damn cute,” he said. 

“You are,” you said and smiled.

“When yo roommate getting home?” He asked. 

You shrugged and looked away from him. “Um, I think she said she doing something this weekend,” you said. 

“So you gon’ be home alone?” He asked.

You shrugged again and played with the edge of a pillow. “Yeah, I think so.” 

The bed dipped as Fontaine sat down on it. He grabbed your chin and made you look at him. You didn’t want to. You tried to fight him. But he only smirked and held on. You looked at him and he tilted his head.

“Do you want me to stay, sweetheart?” He asked.

“Only if you want to,” you said.

He shook his head and pecked your lips. “Be a good girl for me and tell me you want me to stay,” he said.

He smiled and you rolled your eyes. He got on your damn nerves. But you couldn’t quit him. 

“I want you to stay, please.”

He nodded and kissed you. Then he pulled you further onto the bed and tucked you under the covers. He defied any expectation you had of his gender. He really was killing it for anyone else. 

Though, as sweet as he was being, you knew that there would never be anyone else.

Me and you. 

You stopped here and wiped a runaway tear sliding down your cheek. You sniffled. You were both a couple of fools. Two fools in love. In a love that blinded you to anything else.

You should have told him to go. Should have told him that one night was all you could have. Even thinking that, your chest seized like your heart was being compressed under a massive weight. 

There was no you without Fontaine. And there was no Fontaine without you, you hoped.

Check out the Tyrone masterlist if you need more in your life! The Secret Tyrone Files

Graphics by saradika-graphics

[megamindsecretlair]

Girlll... i cant get outta my mind the idea of tyrone fkn his girl soo good and deep.. like it’s so emotionally relieving this nigga damn near givin out free therapy

her tearful eyes rolling back while she chants “where u been all my life”

They both sprunggg. and ofc tyrone’s smug ass is flattered & making it worse by hitting that spot over and over. Talking sweet but so dirty & taking over all her senses <33 oooh

A/N: Couldn't get this ask outta my mind so sorry to the ones that came before!! I guess I never updated ya'll. My bad LOL. I hadn't expected the last Tyrone fic to be the last before my vacation. I'm baack. But came back with a nasty cold. So I'm not sure when fics will resume full time, but this was too good to pass up! Thanks for trusting me with it, I hope I did it justice! I wanted it to be a drabble but just kept going. There's worst problems to have so I won't complain. Also, more apologies to the Tyrone asks. I've started Snowfall soooo Franklin Saint fics incoming! This taglist is getting so huge! Thank you! If you want to be added/removed, let me know! Make sure your ages are in your bios, I won't tag empty blogs.

Worship

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

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Smut, PWP, cursing, PIV, oral (fem receiving), cum play, possession kink, size kink, all consensual. Praise kink. Use of n-word. FLUFF. Soft Tyrone.

Summary: *see ask* Date night turns a little steamy.

Word Count: 3,251k

Taglist: @planetblaque @dayjlovesromance @sevikasblackgf @melaninpov @amyhennessyhouse @henneseyhoe @honeyoriginalz @justheretostan @black-fairy3 @superhoeva @jarfulloftears @hereformiles @montysstuffs @westside-rot @blackerthings @blowmymbackout @euphoric05 @miyuhpapayuh @nicolexnight @8ttached @judymfmoody @wakandas-vibranium @soft-persephone @justabovewater20 @notapradagurl7 @mcotton0928 @soapjay @heyauntieeee

There was no special occasion. The stars aligned for you to have a rare night with nothing to do. Tyrone didn’t have anywhere to be that night. He took you out to dinner and you had so much fun getting ready for him. 

You threw on the dress from the back of your closet that you had been saving. Took your time with your makeup and hair. The anticipation made it a treat. You had been out with Tyrone before, but tonight felt good. 

At dinner, conversation flowed naturally. It was easy and Tyrone made you laugh more than you had before. You laughed to the point that the other dinner patrons gave you scathing looks. But you and Tyrone only had eyes for each other.

It has always been like that between you two. Your eyes found each other across rooms or down the aisles in stores. Tyrone pretended to hate running errands with you. But you had a sneaking suspicion that he liked the domestic shit. He liked when something caught your eye and you’d run back to him bouncing on your toes, giving him puppy eyes, and asking him to buy things for you.

You hated asking for shit. He tried to break you of that habit. You still didn’t like it so you compromised with little shit you found in stores like fuzzy socks or a new stuffed toy. 

After dinner, Tyrone was in no hurry to rush you back home. Instead, he took you to the Venice pier and you walked along the boardwalk at sunset. The California sun was lazily slipping below the horizon and people were still trying to hawk their wares before it got too late and the cops came around. 

People skated in the park and other couples were walking along. The storefronts had people rushing in and out. Tyrone held your hand and listened to you babble about anything that popped into your head. The annoying neighbors, the yard needed fixing, your stupid ass coworkers. 

“One of these days, I’ma convince you to let me take care of you,” Tyrone said. He pulled you into him and wrapped his arm around your shoulders. This close to the beach, a chill spread from the breeze off of the ocean. 

“You already take care of me,” you said. Tyrone kissed your cheek. 

“More. I know you hate that job,” he said. 

And you did. You had been together for a while, but there were still some things you were too proud to accept. “Being taken care of” wasn’t in your vocabulary. You were learning. You needed more time. And Tyrone was content to wait…mostly. 

You looked up and found yourself on the long stretch of road in between Santa Monica and Venice. Under the pier, Tyrone stopped and slipped off his kicks. You took off your sandals and you trudged along the sandy beach until you were stepping into the icy water. Your feet sank into the wet sand and squished in between your toes.

Tyrone stepped behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist. He placed his chin on your shoulder and inhaled your sweet perfume. He kissed your neck. He stepped into you until no part of your backside didn’t touch his front. And you noticed that he was a little excited.

“I’m always excited around your sexy ass,” he whispered in your ear. 

You giggled and shook your head. It amazed you that you were still so needy for each other. You were needy for each other’s time, touch, and words. You stood and watched the horizon. 

Oranges, pinks, and purples meshed and collided to form a painting in the sky. The few seagulls flying around were trying to scavenge leftover food from asshole tourists and LA natives. The salty air was refreshing and cool.

“I want to give you the universe, baby,” he said with a sigh. 

You rubbed his hand around your waist. “You already give me so much,” you said.

Both of your tones were soft and wistful. This moment required a certain reverence for some reason. The joining of two people so madly in love that it hurt to contain it. On more than one occasion, you found yourself out of breath with how much you were in love with this man. 

“Sometimes I feel like it’s not enough,” he said. 

You turned around in his arms until you could look into his dark brown eyes. You wrapped your hands around his broad shoulders. 

“You know that I love you for you, not for what you give me. You are enough for me,” you said. 

Tyrone smirked and kissed you. You thought it was going to be a little peck but he captured your lips with his and kept exploring your mouth. His tongue licked your lips and pressed inside. He swallowed your sighs and held you closer, his arms tightening around you. 

He withdrew from your lips slowly, reluctantly. He rubbed his nose against yours. “I fuckin’ love you,” he said.

“I fuckin’ love you. Take me home, Tyrone,” you said.

Tyrone chuckled and kissed you again, stepping close until you felt his noticeable bulge. “Shit, I’on know if I can make it that far,” he said. 

You giggled against his lips. He said shit like that until he had you folded like a lawn chair and had cum at least three times. 

Tyrone pulled away from you and brought his hand up to caress your cheek. How did you get so lucky to find this man? This man radiated love and strength with every dip of his lean as he walked and the set of his shoulders. He took every one of your insecurities about being a thick girl and mildly shy and tossed them in the wind. You felt him. You never questioned his love.

Yet and still, you didn’t know what you did to luck out on him. You thanked whoever was listening that you got to enjoy him for as long as possible. 

Tyrone dusted as much sand off of your legs as he could manage. You walked back to the car with anticipation building in between you like a living thing. Tyrone kept touching you. Finding ways to “stabilize you” and “make sure you’re straight”. He’d pull you into his side to step around a tiny ass rock or pull you closer to whisper something nasty in your ear.

“I can’t wait to taste between your legs. Bet that pussy ready for me, ain’t it?” 

“Tyrone!” You’d say and squeeze his hand. Your cheeks would burn and your heart would skip a beat. 

“Tell me she ready for me,” he whispered against your neck. 

“You get on my nerves!” You couldn’t form the words. Of course you were ready for him. Every time you saw him, your panties were instantly soaked and hot. Tyrone licked your neck and you giggled. 

“Boy, focus on gettin’ us home!” Tyrone laughed and you made it to the car. He had towels in his trunk so that you didn’t have to get sand absolutely everywhere. He knelt on the ground and cleaned off your legs one by one, smirking up at you while he played with your feet. 

You swatted at his head and giggled. Tyrone cleaned off his legs as well and you climbed into his car. Tyrone sped all the way home, rubbing your leg with one hand while his other stayed on the steering wheel. 

You felt like you were going to crawl out of your skin with need. Everything was in hyperfocus. The bright street lights took on a hazy hue blending between the golden lights and reds and greens of the traffic light. 

Blessedly, you made it home. Tyrone barely pulled into the driveway before he was opening the door for you and yanking you out of the car. Your giggles mixed with his huffs as he slammed the car door and pulled you into the house. 

You were apart for half a second while he closed and locked the door. Then his hands were searching for yours in the dark, your lips seeking each other. Your kisses were rushed, hurried, needy. 

He pushed you into your bedroom, forcing you to walk backwards. But you weren’t scared. You trusted him to guide you. 

He turned on the light and it stung your eyes for a bit. You blinked a few times until you could see the raw desire in his eyes. 

His breaths were coming so fast that you saw the rise and fall of his chest. “Turn around,” he said.

You turned as he said. He stepped close and his warm breaths fanned over the back of your neck. It raised goosebumps on your flesh. 

He unzipped your dress and let it slide over your skin until it pooled on the floor. He sucked in a sharp breath as it revealed your black lingerie set. A simple bra and panties but there were strategically set lacy parts that were like peek-a-boo windows. 

“You’re so fuckin’ gorgeous,” he said. 

“Sweet talker,” you said with a giggle. 

“I’m serious ‘bout that shit,” he said. 

He spun you around and kissed you. He took off his jacket and his black T-shirt and then rejoined your lips. His jeans went next until it was just his dark boxer briefs. Fuck, he was beautiful. Thick. He had a beautiful ass, strong thighs, and a wide chest.

Tyrone slipped your panties off and groaned at how some parts clung to you. Cool air kissed your pussy and you shivered. With no warning, Tyrone pushed you onto the bed and spread your legs. 

You yelped as your ass hung off of the bed. He knelt on the floor and threw your legs over his shoulders, spreading your further. He bit his lip as he looked at your pussy.

“I’m the luckiest nigga in the world,” he said. 

He suckled on your pussy, immediately catching on your clit and you cried out. “Oh fuck, oh fuck,” you yelled. 

You weren’t prepared at all. You had no idea how fast he was going to devour you. Tyrone always kept you guessing. Sometimes it was fast, sometimes it was slow. Your fingers dug into your bed sheets as he fully supported the lower half of you. 

That annoying voice in the back of your head wanted to protest. He couldn’t support all of you.  

You told that voice to shut the fuck up and enjoy his lips on you. You moaned as he swirled his tongue. In no time at all, you were already cumming on his tongue with a loud cry. 

“Oh shit,” you said.

Tyrone chuckled and nuzzled the top of your pussy, kissing you there. “Mhm, that was too quick. Gimme another one,” he said.

“But–” 

Tyrone went back to flicking your clit with his tongue. You were still sensitive from your quick orgasm and your hand flew to his head to push. Tyrone flattened his tongue and licked you from entrance to clit.

“Move yo fuckin’ hand,” he growled and returned to eating you out. That didn’t even seem the proper term. You moved your hand but you wanted to put it back. He added a finger to push inside you. Then he added two and pumped it into you while he continued to lick, suck, and slurp up all your juices. 

You were cumming again, cursing and squirming. Tyrone kissed your thighs as you wiggled and writhed beneath him. He nipped the skin between your thigh and pussy and you jerked. He laughed evilly as he stood up. 

“Let me see them titties,” he said. 

“Tyrone, please, I can’t move,” you said. 

“The hell you can’t. C’mon beautiful,” he said. He grabbed your hands and made you sit up. You were boneless and leaned forward to lean your forehead against his stomach. He smelled so damn clean and sexy. He chuckled and rubbed the back of your neck. 

You kissed his stomach as you took forever to slip off your bra. “Mmm,” Tyrone moaned as you bared yourself to him. 

You scooted further up the bed so that he could climb on. “I ever tell you how fuckin’ sexy you are?” Tyrone asked.

“Shut up,” you mumbled. 

He chuckled. Your body was sensitive to the touch and the bastard knew it. He kissed your belly, licked your stretch marks, and settled in between your legs. He kissed and bit his way to your nipples.

You jerked beneath him with a hiss. “Shit,” you said. 

“So. Fuckin’. Sexy,” Tyrone said. With each word, he kissed your titties. After he spoke, he laved his tongue around your nipple and sucked hard enough to make you buck off of the bed. 

“I promise, I’ll give you everything,” he said. He kissed his way up your skin until he got to your neck. He paid special attention to kissing your neck and licking your pulse point. You ran your hands over his back and neck, rubbing the back of his, and playing with his thick braids. 

“I want to give you a real home, baby. Buy you everything you need,” he said. He kissed up your jaw and kissed you. 

“Tyrone,” you whispered against his lips. 

“I want to make you comfortable. I only wanna see you smile,” he said. 

“You already make me the happiest woman ever,” you said. You tugged on his braids until he leaned up and looked into your eyes. 

“I’m so happy already, Tyrone,” you said. 

He gave you that rare sexy smile. Where he smiled wide and it transformed his face. Your heart shattered. He killed you with that smile.

“I can’t help it. You make me wanna be a better man,” he said. He kissed you, cutting off whatever you were going to say. 

As you kissed, his hands explored your body. He rubbed and kneaded your beasts. He squeezed your nipples to the point of pain and then rubbed the sting away. He grasped your waist and slipped his hands around your ass. He grunted and massaged your booty. 

You moaned and brought your legs up to wrap around his hips. “Mhm,” he said. He pushed your legs until your knees almost hit your shoulders.

His hand worked at his briefs until he was able to free himself. The tip of his dick gathered up your arousal and pushed inside of you. “Fuuuuck,” you moaned. 

He sank in inch by inch with a clipped moan. He kept eye contact as he slid home and you opened your mouth but no sound came out. He stole the air from your lungs like a nasty thief. “Breathe baby,” he commanded. 

You panted. You couldn’t get a full breath. He stopped sliding in. A smirk played on his lips while you adjusted to his size.

“Dammit,” you struggled to say. 

“Relax, baby. I’m gonna make you feel so good.” He kissed you, pressing his tongue inside. 

Your nails dug into his shoulder while you tried to accommodate him. Tyrone kissed his way to your ear. 

“I know you want this dick, so quit fuckin’ playing with me.”

His deep voice and nasty words made you clench around him and he slid in more. He chuckled and kissed your ear. “You like it when I talk nasty, don’t you?” 

“Mhm,” you nodded. 

“Pussy so fuckin’ tight. Open up, baby. Let me give you all of it,” he said. He licked the shell of your ear and you moaned. 

Tyrone pushed his hips in and he stretched you out. “With yo pretty ass. I’m so fuckin’ lucky to be with you,” he said.

You took a deep breath and managed a weak laugh. “I’m the lucky one. You make me feel so good,” you said. 

Tyrone bottomed out and hit some spot inside of you that made you bow your back and cry out. “There’s my fuckin’ spot. My girl need that shit deep, don’t you?” 

He was impossibly deep. It felt like he was in your heart. You were practically folded in half. Tyrone pulled out and then slid back in faster. For every slide out, he came back in twice as hard and made you cry out each time. 

“Oh fuck, Tyrone. Wait!” You said. He was bouncing you so hard, that the top of your head grazed the headboard. It didn’t hurt, but if he slammed any harder, he’d send you through the wall. The thought alone made your pussy clench around him and he groaned. You brought a hand up to brace against the headboard and protect your head. 

“Can’t,” Tyrone said. He placed his hands on the back of your thighs as leverage and slammed into you over and over. He pounded relentlessly. 

You cried. “Please, please,” you chanted over and over. The hand not on the headboard was pushing at his chest. But not to push him away. Just to steady you and match his rhythm. 

“Fuck, missed this. Missed you. Missed my pussy,” he said in between grunts. His eyes were locked on yours. On your expressions and pathetic whining. Sweat beaded on his head and ran down the side of his face, disappearing into his light beard. 

“Tyrone…” your voice was breathless. Your throat burned from your harsh breaths. 

“So fuckin’ beautful. Look how you take my dick. You takin’ all of it. ‘Cause you deserve it, don’t you, baby?” 

“I’m…” You couldn’t speak. Your eyes were rolling into the back of your head. You saw an entire universe of stars in the back of your eyelids. Tears ran down your cheeks. Your body tensed before you exploded and shattered. Your body broke apart, came back together, and ripped apart again. 

Tyrone was saying something but you couldn’t hear him. Your moans drowned out all sound. Tyrone kept pumping into you as if he was truly trying to fuck you through the wall. He joined you and unloaded inside of you. He pumped you full of him and the filthy squelching was like its own music.

Tyrone stayed inside of you and moved every so often. You were surprised that he was still hard. He rotated his hips and you moaned, pushing at his chest. 

“Where have you been all my life,” you cried. Your legs were still pressed against your chest. It should hurt. But Tyrone knew your limits. And he wasn’t done wringing every last orgasm out of you tonight. 

“Prayin’ for you,” he said. His lips hovered over yours so that they were touching but not fully kissing. 

You couldn’t take anymore. He was too sweet. Too perfect. He gave and gave and you didn’t know how you could repay him for everything. For healing things inside of you that you hadn’t realized were broken. For seeing all the cracks inside of you and pouring love into them. 

You shook and cried and he kissed your cheeks. He kissed them both, alternating between the two. You were sure he tasted the saltiness of your tears but he didn’t seem to care. He kissed them anyway, looking into your eyes. Right when you stopped moaning, he’d move his hips and remind you that you were still connected. Still joined. That his cum was still oozing out of you, aided by your arousal. 

“I will protect you as long as I breathe, baby. You’re mine, forever,” he said. Then he kissed you and proved for the rest of the night that you were his.

&&&

Loved this? There's more! The Secret Tyrone Files Masterlist

[megamindsecretlair]

Sunday

Pairing: Tyrone x Black!reader / Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, multiple uses of the n-word, refer to female anatomy as "she". You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Smut, PWP, cursing, PIV, oral (fem receiving), cum play, breeding kink if you squint, possession kink, size kink, all consensual. Mentions of drug use and drug dealing, allusions to violence and murder.

Summary: You usually visit your grandmother on the weekends but manage to cross paths with Tyrone one day and your life was forever changed.

Word Count: 3,025k

A/N: You ever get an idea you just can't get out of your head? This was me with this fic and I had too much fun writing it! John Boyega got no business being that damn fine and I am absolutely feral. Enjoy my brain rot. Likes are always awesome. Please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers!

Taglist: @planetblaque @dayjlovesromance @sevikasblackgf @melaninpov @amyhennessyhouse @wakandas-vibranium @henneseyhoe @honeyoriginalz @justheretostan @black-fairy3 @superhoeva @jarfulloftears @hereformiles @montysstuffs

Tyrone knew that you didn’t want to mess with no banger. It was only by accident that you two even met. You were visiting your grandmother early in the afternoon. You usually went on the weekends, early in the morning to watch her stories with her and then you were long gone by the time Tyrone rolled out of bed and headed to the corner store.

You happened to be in the neighborhood and stopped to check on her. She was doing fine as usual, except she wanted some ice cream. As always, you told her to get her sugar down and maybe you’d sneak her something. She always managed to find the little piece of candy in your pocket. It was your secret and it didn’t hurt. 

As you were walking out of the house, Tyrone pulled up blasting music with the windows rolled down. He caught you looking and gave you one of those fuck boy smiles. Licked his lips and looked you up and down. You intended to ignore him. But hell, you weren’t blind. 

He had gotten out of the car lazily. Swinging his legs out of the car and stretching a bit, showing his stomach as his black shirt rode up. He walked up to you confidently and held out his hand. 

“Tyrone,” he said. No other words, no other fake ass compliments. Just his name because he was that damn cocky. 

You shook his hand and gave him a polite smile. You told him your name and he rolled it around his tongue. “Pretty ass name,” he said. 

You rolled your eyes. “How many little girls does that work on?” You had asked him. 

He nodded and shrugged. “A few, I ain’t gon’ lie,” he said. 

“Good, ‘cause I’on like liars,” you told him. 

He put his hands in the pockets of his sweats and eyed you up and down once more. He took in the horror movie on your T-shirt. “You watch that shit?” 

“I wouldn’t wear if I didn’t,” you told him. 

From there, it spiraled into Tyrone waking up just a bit earlier to see you come out of your grandmother’s house. He’d give you shit about whatever was on your T-shirt for the day. Sometimes, you’d wear something wild just to see what he’d say. 

“Pussy: Push until she screams yes?” Tyrone read your shirt and burst out laughing. He was so damn sexy. From his cornrows to his big, sexy ass lips, and his deep voice. It was hard not to crush on the man. But you didn’t want to. You didn’t want all the drama that came from his world. Not like he made it fuckin’ easy to resist him. 

He was always finding ways to touch you. Whether it was to get your attention, push you, poke you, or pull you closer by your shirt. “I’m just trynna read it, damn!” He’d say and pull you too close where you knew damn well he couldn’t read that shit. 

The heat of his body was like a furnace. Like touching a hot stove. LA was already fuckin’ hot this summer. The sun wasn’t pulling punches and neither was Tyrone. 

“Come chill for a bit,” he’d say. 

“Boy bye, I’m not coming in there with you!” You’d tell him. 

It was cool. He’d try again the next time he saw you and the time after that. Your crush got so bad that you were starting to linger if you arrived before he got up. If he wasn’t sitting on the porch when you pulled up, he was definitely sitting on it when you got out. He’d wait patiently for you to visit with your grandmother and he’d ask how she was doing. 

Your grandma used to tell you about the nice young man next door. She was always dropping hints about that nice boy who helped her with the groceries sometimes. You thought it was just some punk kid looking for a favor. But to actually meet Tyrone…yeah, you kind of got it.

He was the perfect mix of hood, toxic, and a good man. You didn’t know how it was possible. He probably had a couple of bodies on the gun hanging out of his backside. You couldn’t help but notice it every time he turned around. You were already staring at his juicy ass. The gun made you uncomfortable for a variety of reasons. The chief among them being that at any point, his ass could be taken out by other hood muthafuckas on the block. 

That one fact kept you from ever getting too close. It was hard to tell your heart that. The poor idiot just wanted him. So you always found some excuse to leave or bow out. You’d blame it on meeting up with your friends or your parents or work. 

Tyrone just gave you that same cocky smirk and he’d tell you he’d miss you. He’d watch you walk away and get in the car. You’d feel his eyes on the back of your head. 

“Come chill for a bit. And don’t give me no shit about work or whatever. I know yo ass lyin’,” he said.

“I’on like lying,” you told him. 

“Then give me a good reason why you won’t come inside,” he said. He stared at you intently, daring you to contradict him or give him a lame excuse. 

“I don’t fuck with bangers,” you told him. 

He’d playfully roll his eyes and wave you off. “I don’t even bang like that,” he said. 

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes. Sometimes he’d be out here with his friends. You knew dope dealers when you saw them. They were constantly passing bottles and pills back and forth with all kinds of people. Getting money in exchange to do whatever the hell he did with it. Probably spent it on some girl he was fuckin’. 

You weren’t jealous, by much. You’d seen the way he walked. That nigga was cocky for a reason. And you wanted no parts. Okay, maybe some parts. 

He finally tugged on your hand and led you inside of his house. You were expecting it be gross or filthy. But it was surprisingly clean. He had a couch and some chairs, minimal artwork, and the kitchen was decent. He had a flat screen TV on turned to some game. 

He sat down on the couch and pulled you close until you were snuggled up against him. “I’m not fuckin’ you Tyrone,” you said.

He laughed and shook his head. “That’s yo nasty ass mind in the gutter. I just wanted you close to me,” he said. 

“Mhm,” you muttered.

His phone rang and he picked it up. You couldn’t hear what the other person was saying but you knew it was a woman. You smirked at him while he looked at you. “I’m a little busy,” he said to the person. 

The person began yelling and Tyrone hung up the phone and tossed it onto the glass coffee table. 

“Who was that?” You asked with a smirk. 

“Shit, I’on know,” he said. 

You shook your head. “You probably got a girl for every day of the week,” you said. 

“I’m just missin’ Sunday. You free?” He asked.

“Boy, shut up!” You laughed. You stole his remote and flipped through channels until you landed on a thriller you love. You caught it near the beginning and you told Tyrone what he needed to know to catch him up.

“I can’t believe you don’t watch TV. Like…everyone watches TV,” you said. 

He shrugged. “I just don’t watch it like that. I got shit to do,” he said. 

“Yo ass just like sitting outside to see what you can get into,” you said. 

“I just like watchin’ yo pretty ass,” he said. 

You sighed and twisted your lips at him. “You already know that shit don’t work on me, Tyrone,” you said. 

He chuckled and pulled you closer. You were already so close to him. You could smell his clean, soapy scent mixed with weed. He kissed your cheek and smirked at you. “I been seeing you round here for weeks. I see the way you look at me,” he said.

“Like you crazy?” You asked.

“Naw, like you trynna see what this dick can do for you.”

You choked on a laugh and slapped at his stomach. It was solid under your hand. Not super thick with corded muscles but he had some meat on him. Strong, capable, tough. “Now who’s got the gutter mind?” 

He pinched your shirt and released it. “How many licks does it take?” He asked. His voice was low and rusty. It sent tingles up the back of your thighs. You shifted in your seat and tried to lean off of him but he held you to him. Not giving you an inch. 

“Tyrone…” you warned him. You didn’t want to start this shit. But he looked at you like he was trying to eat you for dinner. He licked his lips and looked at your eyes, your cheeks, your lips. His hand roamed over your bare legs, exposed in your cut off shorts. So what if you wore it just for him? It was harmless. Until his fingers played with the distressed hem. 

“Let me see what it taste like,” he said. 

Your pussy contracted and you felt yourself getting wetter. You were always wet whenever you spoke to him. Some days, after seeing him, you’d go home and take care of yourself. You’d even set the mood. You’d replay the conversation and his flirting while running a bath. Setting up some candles. Laying on your bed and using your vibrator as you came just to the image of him in your mind. 

But it paled in comparison to feeling his body next to yours. His fingers on your thigh and his arm around your shoulders. He leaned down and captured your lips in his. His juicy lips were wet and hot and he sucked on your bottom lip. Your kisses were loud and sloppy and you wiggled on the couch trying to find some relief.

“Let me see what it taste like,” he said again. 

“Ain’t yo momma at home?” You asked.

He shook his head. “She don’t never come out her room. Her TV too loud, she won’t hear shit,” he said. 

You scowled. The last thing you wanted was to meet his mom with your ass up in the air getting pounded by her baby boy. He saw the look on your face and smirked. 

He grabbed your hand and pulled you to his room. It fit him. There were posters on the wall and his clothes strewn about. He picked up some of it off of his bed and closed his bedroom door. 

Then he was back to kissing you and running his hands over your ass. He squeezed and kneaded the globes of your ass and you moaned into his mouth. Your hands grabbed his shirt and yanked it off of him, finally giving you an entire view of his body. Fuck, he was so hot. His sexy brown skin was lickable. Your ran your hands greedily on him. 

Tyrone slipped your hoodie off your shoulders and then unbuttoned your shorts. He pushed it and your panties down your legs. Then he got rid of your shirt and bra until you were standing buck ass naked in his room. 

You reached for his sweats and he batted your hand away. “Get on the bed,” he said.

“Who the hell you talkin’ to like that?” You asked.

Instead of answering, he grabbed you and pushed you onto the bed. You bounced as you sat down. You opened your mouth to say something but he grabbed your legs and pushed them as far as he could. 

He studied your wet pussy and the way you contracted as he looked. He smirked and looked at you. “Needy little fuckin’ pussy, ain’t she?” 

You gasped and huffed out a laugh. He got to his knees and ran his tongue down the crease of your fold. He moaned. “Goddamn, you taste fuckin’ good. But how many licks does it take?” 

He was quoting your shirt again. Your hands were braced behind you to keep you upright. Your chest bobbed up and down as you started to hyperventilate. You had imagined him between your legs for weeks. Too cowardly to say anything to him. You hid behind the “I don’t fuck with bangers” line. You were sure that little bit of armor was all you needed to resist Tyrone. If that were true, you wouldn’t be moaning at the sight of him kneeling before you.

His nose nudged your pussy lips and he inhaled. “Fuck,” he whispered before kissing you there. His tongue darted out and he began to lick you, kiss you, suck on you until you were a whimpering mess. 

Your legs were shaking as he tongue fucked you. “Oh fuck, oh shit, Tyrone. Fuuuuck,” you moaned. You leaned on one hand while you dug your nails into his hair. 

“Stop fuckin’ playin’ with me,” he said. He stared at you, almost angrily, as he went back to eating you out. 

Your stomach was on fire as pressure built low and steady. He flicked the little nub until you were sobbing and cumming on his tongue. He leaned up with that signature cocky grin. Your juices were all over his mouth and chin. He wiped it away with his hand. 

“Got a nigga sprung over here,” he said. “I wanna see what else this pussy can do,” he said. He drew down his sweats and his cock sprang free. 

It was long and thick and your eyes widened. “Where the hell you gonna put that?” You asked. There was no fuckin’ way that was fitting inside of you. It was truly a one-eyed monster. Thick and veiny. The head was already leaking a little bit. 

He grinned as he stroked himself. “Sit yo pretty ass back,” he said. He didn’t wait for you to comply. He pushed on your stomach until your back hit the bed. He grabbed your fleshy thighs and yanked until you were half hanging off of the bed. 

He wrapped your legs around his waist as he dipped his cock inside of you. There was already a slight burning and you moaned. “Fuck, Tyrone. You’re too big,” you whined. 

“Suck it up, ‘cause this finna be my favorite spot,” he said. “Shit, this all mine now.” 

You laughed but it turned into a gasp as he started to work himself inside you. He pleasantly stretched you out as he gave shallow strokes to wet his dick with your arousal and make him sliding in easier. 

Then, he added his thumb to rub circles on your clit. You clenched around his dick and he moaned. “Just like that,” he said. He continued to rub circles, making you relax and take all of him. He still hadn’t bottomed out, but he was starting to increase his strokes. 

“I knew this fuckin’ pussy was gonna be good. I ain’t know it would be this good,” he said. His voice was low as if he weren’t really talking to you. Your nails grazed his stomach as you tried to push him away. You didn’t want him to stop, it just felt so fucking good to finally have him inside of you. 

He grabbed your hand and slammed it onto his bed. He leaned over to do it, so he was driving in a little deeper. 

“Shit, I think I can go deeper. What you think?” He asked.

“There’s…no…way…” you said in between gasping and moaning. 

He licked his lips and winked at you before increasing the intensity of his strokes while slowing down the tempo. He shoved in once and then twice and he seemed to unlock some hidden level inside of you because he did go in a bit deeper. 

“If you keep on, I’m gonna…fuckin’...shit…” You were close to cumming and his finger on your clit was making you dumb. Boneless and shivering. You couldn’t think, let alone say anything. 

The unexpected slap to your titties half woke you up. You couldn’t focus on him. He was fucking all common sense out of you. He pulled on one nipple before leaning down and suckling it into his mouth.

It was like a straight shot of desire straight to your pussy. You clenched around him and he moaned around your nipple. He tugged on it with his teeth, running it back and forth.

You came with his name on your lips. You didn’t care who heard you. There was noway to hide what ya’ll were doing in here. The whole block could hear you and you didn’t care one bit. The orgasm tore through you, ripped through you; it sent you into another fucking dimension where you lost all sense of self. There was just his dick still slamming inside of you.

Your vision winked in and out and your eyes rolled back. Is this what dying felt like? Complete bliss and peace unlike you had ever known? Tears slipped from your eyes and disappeard into your kinked hair. 

Tyrone grunted as he pounded a few more times before spilling his cum inside of you with a string of curses. He pumped you full until you were near bursting with his cum. 

“I’ma put a baby this pussy and keep you forever,” he said. He collapsed on top of you and you giggled while he kissed his way up your chest. He kissed the top of both your titties before kissing your neck, your ear, your jaw, and finally your lips. 

You were still joined and he rocked a little bit. You groaned. You were riding a fine line between pleasure and pain. 

“Naw, I’m gonna keep you,” he said. He grinned and kissed you. You were too fucked out to speak. To think. To register what just fucking happened. But you wouldn’t mind being kept by him. 

You’d keep him too. 

[megamindsecretlair]

Let Me Hold You

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

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. PWP, virginity loss, shy reader, cursing, PIV, oral (fem receiving), dirty talk, praise kink, possession kink if you squint, Soft Tyrone, all consensual. Mentions of religion, God, and Christian-leaning faith. Sorry if I miss any!

Summary: Ask: ...the reader is a virgin church girl, who, finds herself entangled in a predicament when her parents forbid her to be with the charismatic Tyrone. Despite this, the reader has a genuine friendship with him. They have crushes on each other but do not know how to tell each other.

Word Count: 5,803

A/N: Welp. This healed and broke some things in me! LOL. This was a wonderful ask from @notapradagurl7. I'm SO sorry this took forever to get out, I felt so bad. I hope this was worth the wait. 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 @8ttached @judymfmoody @wakandas-vibranium @soft-persephone @justabovewater20 @mcotton0928 @soapjay @heyauntieeee @theyscreamsannii @mybonafidefeelings @eggnox @honeytoffee @thadelightfulone @tranquilfandomer @kindofaintrovert @l-auteuse @browngirldominion @sunkissedebony97 @lovedlover @issahyland

“And we don’t want you hanging out with that - that boy!” Your father paced the living room floor, his loafers kicking up the delicate fibers. 

“What?” You shrieked. Already, fear spiked into your heart. The thought of not seeing Tyrone? It was inconceivable. You looked toward your mother who perched on the end of the plump chair, proper as you please. She kept her eyes on your father. You wouldn’t get any help from her.

“I’m an adult, you can’t ban me from seeing my friends,” you protested. Did he really think he was serious? 

“It’s not appropriate for you to spend time with someone like him. If you’re to entertain anyone, there are plenty of nice young men at the church.” 

“Malcolm just returned from college to be an engineer. I always knew that boy was smart,” your mother chirped in. 

Your eyes darted between your parents. You half expected aliens to burst from their necks. These people were foreign to you. Unique in their united anger for Tyrone, a boy you’ve known your entire life. 

“Judge not lest ye be judged,” you quoted. Your mother scoffed and glared at you as if you said you wanted to shake your ass for Satan’s minions. Your father stopped his pacing and gawked at you. Like you were the foreign one. A daughter he didn’t recognize. 

“No daughter of mine will hang around someone like that boy. Peddling that poison to people in this community,” your father said. 

“That boy has been nothing but nice to us. A boy you watched grow up. A boy you assume is doing dirt,” you countered. What episode of the Twilight Zone was this? 

“I have eyes,” your father said. “And I see what’s going on. All the people running in and out of his house, his mother’s house I might add, and bumping that music…”

“I still live at home. Are you going to judge me for that too?” You asked. Your father pressed his lips together. 

“It’s different for women,” your mother said as if it were a fact. 

You tuned your parents out as they tried to tell you the difference between young men and young women. You didn’t have the heart to listen anymore. Your blood roared in your ears and you stared off into space, trying to calm down. 

You stood up suddenly. You needed to be anywhere but here. Looking into their judgemental faces. You made one mistake. Funny how they didn’t take into consideration all of the times you were a “good girl”. How you minded your Ps and Qs your entire life. Never did anything bad. Never wanted to do anything bad.

And now, they wanted to effectively place you under house arrest. Only leaving for school or church. This was not the stone ages. You couldn’t sit here under this oppressive weight. Constantly holding yourself to a higher standard. 

What higher standard? Did God really think that oppressing women was the ticket into Heaven? Placing all of these restrictions was the ultimate symbol of propriety? What happened to love thy neighbor? 

Your parents called after you, but you kept moving. You’d never defied them. You always deferred to them. They had experiences you didn’t and just wanted you to have a good life. Bullshit. They wanted a little doll to dress up and tote around town. 

At the door, you slipped into your flats and left the house. No purse, no phone, no keys. It felt…invigorating. That type of freedom was intoxicating. Your parents’ indignant shouts followed you out of the house but they didn’t come to the door. 

You took that opportunity to head down the block towards Tyrone’s house. You hoped he was home. You hadn’t had a chance to check your phone before your parents ambushed you.

His house looked dark for once. There were no cars bunched up in front of the house or thumping music coming from the front door. You ran up the steps and knocked on the metal door.

The cold air caught up to you, edging past the heat of your anger. It could only warm you up so far. There were no sounds coming from the house so you knocked again. It was still earlyish but you didn’t want to be loud and disrespect his mom. 

“Yeah,” Tyrone called out sleepily. You suppressed a smile. Just hearing his voice instantly calmed you down.

You heard a series of locks and bolts being undone. Tyrone swung the door open. He called out your name and looked behind you. 

“What’s up? We were s’posed to meet?” He asked.

“Can I come in?” You asked.

“Always,” he said. He moved out of the way and let you enter his darkened house. You took in the space and got a chilling sense of loneliness here. You didn’t know why. Tyrone closed the door and locked it.

“I was sleep. Come on,” he said. He took your hand and led you to his room. Inside, the sudden light gave you a tiny ache in your eyes and you rubbed them. Tyrone sat on his bed, leaning one leg up onto the mattress. 

You remained standing, suddenly shy. You hated feeling unsettled wherever you went. Even in the company of your friends, you paid attention to everything you said. Were you being weird? Were you not talking enough? It was all incredibly awkward whenever you tried to join the conversation and people had already moved on to the next topic. 

“What’s up?” Tyrone asked.

You sighed and recounted everything that happened with your parents. You paced his small but comfy room, poking at random objects on his desk or hanging on his wall. He had wrinkled Lakers posters torn in one corner. You picked at it as you spoke, not wanting to look him in the face while you spoke and ranted and raved about your judgy, overbearing parents. 

Tyrone was a great listener. He never interrupted you, he kept his comments to a minimum, and when you were brave enough to look at him, he’d nod for you to continue. So you did. You told him everything, even the part about your parents judging him for his side hustle. 

“They don’t want you to see me anymore because of that?” He asked. 

You nodded and sat on the bed next to him. “I told them they’re nuts. They can’t ban me from seeing you, I’m not sixteen,” you said.

“You were pretty cute when you were sixteen,” he said.

“Shut up! I’m trying to be serious here!” You pushed his shoulder. He moved as if you were strong, but you knew that he let you. Tyrone had always been an immovable force. He moved through life like it owed him money and he was coming to collect. He had a surety about himself that kept you up all night thinking of him. 

Your hand lingered on his bare arms, taking in his large biceps. His navy tank top hung just so, highlighting his broad smooth chest. He wore his signature black basketball shorts and you quickly removed your hand. You should not be having these thoughts about your best friend. 

“I’m serious too!” He said and chuckled. He quickly sobered up and glanced at you. “I’d miss you if I couldn’t see you.” 

You smiled slowly. “You’d only miss the chips I bring you,” you said. 

“Naw, I’d miss you. I’d have to stage a breakout or something,” he said. 

You laughed, picturing hopping into Tyrone’s getaway car just to drive a few houses down. Bonnie and Clyde ya’ll were not. 

You bumped his shoulder with yours. “There’s nothing that can keep us apart,” you said. You stuck out your pinkie finger. Tyrone looked at it and laughed, shaking his head and licking his lips. 

“Really?” He asked.

“Yeah, so you know I’m serious,” you said. You pushed your hand into his chest to urge him to do it with you. He shook his head again and wrapped his pinkie around yours. 

“So what you gonna do since they dropped the hammer?” Tyrone asked. 

“I don’t know,” you said. You tucked your legs under you, holding down your dress so no one got a free show. You played with the hem. “I wish they’d see me as an individual instead of an extension of their dead hopes and dreams.” 

“I feel that. You’re just gonna have to prove that you grown now,” he said with a shrug. 

“There’s nothing I can do. They’ll only see me as a goody two shoes who’s always ready with a smile. Like, I don’t have feelings or something? I’d have to rob a bank or have…” You trailed off as the intrusive thought came to you. 

You became very interested in your dress as you played with the rolled hem. “Have what?” Tyrone prompted.

You hummed and shrugged. “Lost my train of thought. Point is, I’m tired of living and dying by their own expectations,” you said. 

The thought didn’t leave you though. In fact, the more you turned it around in your head, the hotter it got in the room. Your imagination ran away from you, providing images of a naked Tyrone standing over you. Bending you over. Calling you dirty names. You shifted on the bed as the images became a little too vibrant.

You usually indulged in your fantasies late at night, safe and comfortable in your head where no one would know except you. It was harmless to be as nasty as you wanted, getting yourself worked up and needy but ultimately not doing anything about it. Could you imagine trying to order a sex toy and have it sent to the house? Trying to hide the buzz buzz as you got yourself off? It was either the towel on the pillow or your own fingers but once you felt awkward, it was hard to get back into the mood. 

“So don’t live by their expectations. What do you wanna do?” He asked. 

You glanced at him. He treated it as seriously as possible and that only made your heart melt. He was the bestest friend you could have hoped for, growing up together. But would you always be someone he grew up with? Forced to talk about his conquests over and over and wishing it were you? 

You licked your lips and faced him. You sat up straight and looked him in the eyes. Your heart thundered in your chest. You felt the steady beat all over, thumping in your arms and in your head. Now or never. 

“What would you say to a crazy idea?” You asked. 

Tyrone shifted to allow you more room on the bed. “What kind of crazy idea?” He asked slowly. 

You smiled at the mistrust in his voice. You were kind of known for some out of pocket schemes. It was not your fault that Mrs. Edwards came home early that one time. How were you supposed to know? 

You lost a bit of your nerve, looking down at your fingers. You gripped your dress hard, your fingers pressing the thin fabric. “What would you say if I asked you to take my virginity?” 

You risked a glance at him. He was frozen solid, gaping at you. After a moment, he blew out a breath. “Wait, what?” 

“I am tired of doing what people expect of me. Nothing is ever good enough and I never get anything out of the deal. I want something for myself. I want to have sex. I want to have sex with you,” you said. 

He tilted his head so you forged on, explaining why you wanted to have sex. “And I know it might be a little weird considering we’re friends but I’m pretty sure you’re not seeing someone right now? Right? Because I’d rather it be with someone I trust, at least the first time…” You rambled. You were rambling and you couldn’t make yourself stop. You heard the words. You said the words. But you couldn’t find a way to disconnect your brain from your mouth. “And you’re totally free to say no. Like, we can totally forget I asked.” 

After you crawled into a cave or yeeted yourself off of a cliff, surely you could be around Tyrone and not think of this stupid situation. 

You opened your mouth to ramble more because he was just sitting there, but he captured your lips with his. His hands cupped your jaw and pulled you into it, moving your lips against his. Your hands gripped his, but not to push him away. You held him there and kissed him back. Tyrone ran the tip of his tongue to trace around your lips. You gasped and he pulled away, pressing his forehead against yours.

“You have no fuckin’ clue how long I been wanting to do that,” he said, his voice hoarse. 

“Wait, what?” You asked. Your head was pleasantly fuzzy. Like you were full of fluffy clouds. “You’ve been wanting to kiss me?”

“Every time I see you. You got kissable lips,” he said. He made his point by kissing you again, humming low in his throat. He pulled away and ran his thumb across your lips. Each pass of his lips on yours or his calloused fingers on you only made your head fuzzier. You squeezed your thighs together, feeling yourself get more and more worked up.

“Why didn’t you ever say? Especially after ninth grade!” There was once upon a time where you two had danced at the high school you attended. You had found a dark-ish corner away from the chaperones and told Tyrone that you’d never been kissed. He had laid one on you, probably not well now that you thought about it, but it had been so precious to you. He ended it by saying, “Now you have”, and walked away. 

The memory was always bittersweet. But hell, it was still your first kiss. 

“I was a dumb ass kid. I didn’t know how to tell you I liked you more than a friend,” he said. 

Warmth spread from the tips of your toes to the top of your head. This lonely torch you’d been holding for Tyrone wasn’t one sided. You looked into his molten brown eyes and smiled, not knowing how to properly process this new information.

In fact, it blew you away that you were here at this moment. Who knew your holier-than-thou parents were good for something? 

“And now?” You asked.

Tyrone removed his hands from your face and you missed them instantly. He grabbed one of your hands, pulling it across his lap so that you could cup him. You gasped at the sheer size of him. Despite common myths, you have seen a dick before. But you’d never touched one. Held one. Sucked on one. 

Your mouth went dry at the thought. You wanted to suck him, but what if you were bad at it? Your lip rolled in between your teeth and you bit down, wondering the mechanics of it all. 

“Well, you did ask me for something huge. Are you sure?” He asked. His voice held a strange, raspy quality to it. You flicked your eyes back to him and he was breathing a little faster. Oh shit, he really did like you. How the hell did you miss it? 

“I’m very sure,” you said. You pressed your hand in more, stroking him over his basketball shorts. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Then, he opened them and grinned at you. 

“I’ll do it. But I want you to promise me that you’ll tell me if you don’t like something or if you want to stop, okay?” 

You nodded. “I promise. I’m a big girl, I can use my words,” you said. Your hands still moved over him and you must’ve been doing something right because his breaths left him in quick bursts. He rubbed his face and gripped his jaw, eyes tightly shut. 

“Okay, okay,” he said. He stilled your hand on him and moved it off. “Okay, okay. Virgin. Have you done anything? Gotten eaten out?” He asked.

You sighed and shook your head. “Yeah, I just snuck them up to my room while my dad was busy in the kitchen,” you said.

Tyrone chuckled. “Okay, smart ass. Give me a minute. I’m like…I don’t wanna just jump on you even though I want to,” he said. He stood up and rubbed his hands together, jumping in place. 

You giggled. “I thought I was supposed to be the nervous one,” you said. And you were! Your nerves were shot. Your hands trembled thinking of what the hell you were about to get into. You had fantasized it so many times, wondering who it would be. Sometimes wishing it were Tyrone. And while you didn’t think it would be all glitzy like they do in the movies, you did think you’d be married. Or at least in a steady relationship.

As you looked at Tyrone though, you were glad it was with someone you were comfortable with. Someone who took your usual anxiety from 100% to about 65%. 

Tyrone smirked. “If you knew the thoughts I be having about you…you might run out that door,” he said. “I’m trying to do this right.” 

You reached out and grabbed his hand. “Don’t treat me like some glass doll,” you said. You titled your head and stared him down. “You forgetting I know all your nasty little secrets?” 

Tyrone chuckled and squeezed your hand. “Shut up. That’s different. I ain’t care about them, but I do care about you. Don’t ever treat this shit as casual,” he said. 

You sucked your teeth. “Not you too. I promise, I’m not going around opening my legs for any man that wants it,” you said. You were about to go on a tirade about how it was your body and your rules. Tyrone shut you up with another kiss, tugging on your bottom lip. 

“The thought of anyone else in between your legs makes me angry,” he whispered against your lips.

“Angry?” 

He nodded and continued to kiss you, sliding his hands up and down your arms. His warm, big hands chased away any lingering chill from outside. He slowly knelt so that he wasn’t bending at an awkward angle. 

His knees sank to the floor and he nestled himself in between your thighs. His hands continued to travel down, squeezing your hips, your outer thighs. Your hands held on to his shoulders, kneading and massaging his back. He moaned into your mouth and a delicious tingle went up your spine. 

“Mhm, so don’t say that shit no more,” he said. 

“You can’t expect…”

His hands crept closer to your pussy and you ended your sentence on a squeak. Heat rose up your neck and cheek. “Relax,” he said. You took a few deep breaths, nodding, but you were as stiff as a board. Tyrone stopped moving his hand and kept it on your thigh.

“You gotta relax. And let me do this for you,” he said. His thumb pressed into your thigh and your body caved in. He somehow zeroed in on a knot and his thumb worked it out. “Oh fuck,” you said. 

“Mhm, you’ll feel better in a minute. But you gotta relax for me,” he said.

Sure, as if you could snap your fingers and relax. Wouldn’t you know it, anxiety was a light switch you could flick on and off at your leisure. Tyrone must’ve seen your thoughts play across your face, because he chuckled. 

“Do you have any fuckin’ idea how sexy you are?” He asked.

“What?” You asked. The question caught you off guard. You knew you were gorgeous, you knew you were working with some thick thighs and a pretty tummy. But sexy? Somehow, you missed the memo about sex appeal. You swore that guys could see “virgin” stamped across your forehead.

“Mhm. Whenever you walk out the house in one of these dresses, I just keep picturing how you look underneath. If that pussy nice and pink and wet.” His voice went deeper, harsher, bringing with it dark, carnal promises.

Your thighs tingled. Your hands shook. You bit your bottom lip to keep from moaning like a ho. Tyrone kissed your jaw, then moved up to your ear. “You nice and wet for me? You want me to play with it right?” He asked.

“Yes, yes, play with it,” you said.

Tyrone moved his hand up. Your thighs were burning hot from where they rested against each other. Tyrone nudged you to open your legs. He hummed while he kissed along your ear. “I wonder if you taste as good you feel.”

You dropped your head against him. “You can’t be saying shit like that,” you said.

“Look at you, with your little potty mouth,” he said.

“Shut up, Tyrone!” 

He only laughed and finally, blessedly, reached your core. He played with the edges of your panties, seeing the way you squirmed and moaned. He slipped his finger past the material and cursed under his breath.

“Damn, all of that for me? How you gon’ run home to Daddy with panties this soaked?” Tyrone asked.

You stuttered out a response. How were you supposed to form a coherent sentence when his fingers were on you? His fingers glided in between your slick folds, pushing past your pussy lips, and tracing the outside of your clit.

Your eyes bugged out of your head. Your mouth dropped in a tiny little ‘o’ and Tyrone’s eyes narrowed as he took in your expression. He kissed you once, too quickly for your taste, and smirked at you.

“You gotta stop being so damn cute,” he said. “Makes me want to do all kinds of nasty shit to you.” 

You moaned, picturing those disgusting things. His thumb rubbed over your clit and you scrunched up your face in pleasure. 

How was it that this felt infinitely different and better than when you did it to yourself? He knew exactly what to do, taking cues from your moans and grunts and pretty gasps. You sent up a prayer, thankful that this was with someone experienced. Then again, God probably wasn’t listening right about now.

Tyrone traced slow circles on your clit. You looked through your lashes at his smug face. He knew he was driving you wild. You hissed and jerked when he got to a particularly sensitive spot. “Shh, shh, breathe,” he said. 

He held your gaze as you took in deep breaths. Your belly flipped and tightened, the beginning stirrings of something naughty making its way to the surface. Your gaze traveled down. Tyrone’s hand was completely under your dress. It was somehow hotter that you couldn’t see what he was doing to you.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” You moaned.

“Mhm, pray to him for mercy. Because you ain’t gettin’ that shit from me,” Tyrone’s raspy voice was like its own arrow of desire. Your thighs shook. Your feet dangled over the side of the bed. Your toes curled. 

“Tyrone, please,” you said. You gripped his shoulders. His smooth brown skin shone with its own light. 

“Let me take these panties off,” Tyrone said.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you said. 

Tyrone stopped rubbing your clit. “No,” you growled. What the hell was he doing? You were so close! Your belly still felt tight, overripe like at any moment you would burst. 

Tyrone chuckled and lifted your dress. The fabric drew across your thighs like scorching fire. You hissed. You were on a precipice and any movement would hurt or hinder. You didn’t want to find out which. 

Tyrone pushed your dress up to your hips. Then, he grabbed the top of your panties and moved it down. He held you as you lifted up and slipped them off your ass. He smiled. “Never thought I’d get to see you like this,” he said.  

“I’m glad it’s you,” you said and smiled.

“I’m glad it’s you,” he said. “Remember to breathe for me.”

He kept your gaze as he pushed your legs over his shoulders. He grabbed your hips and pulled you forward until your ass was half hanging off of the bed. You cried out and he kissed your thighs until you calmed down.

Your heart beat in your pussy. The throb throb throb drove you mad. You were needy. You needed something more, anything more. 

Tyrone blew a breath across your wet pussy and you cried out, jerking your hips. Tyrone only locked his arms around you, curling his biceps around your thigh. “Oh fuck,” you moaned. 

Tyrone flattened his tongue and licked you from your pussy to your clit and back down again. A choppy moan left you. Your back bowed off of the bed. Your hands gripped the front of your dress. It wasn’t enough to hold so you moved your hands down to grip the bunched up hem. 

He ran his nose through your folds. He inhaled. “Smell so fuckin’ good, got damn,” he said. “Pretty ass pussy.”

He then drew his tongue in a slow circle around your clit. Locked as you were, he didn’t leave room for movement. You barely wiggled. Squirmed underneath his sinful tongue. With each new circle, he moved in closer. He tongued you closer to your clit and you whined and moaned and cried.

Your belly tightened once more. A cresting inferno built and built, radiating waves of heat throughout your body. 

Somehow, this too was more potent coming from him. Your body jerked out of your control, twitching every which way, as he created magic around your clit. He slurped up your juices. Slurped it loudly and greedily. He tongued it all down, getting his juicy lips wet with your essence.

You spoke in tongues, muttering and chirping. Tyrone’s tongue moved downwards, rimming your entrance and pushing his tongue inside.

“Oh god. Oh fuck. Tyrone, Tyrone,” you moaned. Your hands flexed. You searched for Tyrone’s head, his neat cornrows were going to get messed up tonight. You palmed him anyway, pushing his head into your pussy and started to gyrate on his mouth. 

“Mhm, mhm,” he encouraged. “That’s my good girl.”

You came with a loud yell. You could barely breathe. The sounds and words were dragged out of you. A hidden instinct buried in your DNA to say something, to help ride this awe-inducing wave. A flood of pleasure moved through you. 

Tyrone held you down through it all. His biceps flexed with your movements back and forth. He still ate you out, flicking his tongue around your nub. 

“F-f-f-.” Fuck it, you couldn’t say it. 

You flopped onto the bed, spent. You moaned as you twitched and calmed down. Tyrone leaned up. You looked at him. His face was slick across his jaw. A spit chain drooped. He licked his big lips and moaned.

“Ready for this dick?” He asked.

You sniffled and nodded. “Please. Please, I'm so ready,” said.

“You don't’ need a break?” He asked.

“Hell naw. Please,” you said. 

He nodded and placed a wet kiss on your thigh. He cleaned off his face on his tank top. He stood up. He grabbed your hands and pulled you into a sitting position. You put your chin on his stomach and looked up at him. 

He sighed and rolled his neck. “What I tell you about lookin’ so cute?” He asked. 

“I can’t help being cute,” you said. 

“Lyin’ ass. Yes, you can,” he said.

You sucked your teeth. “How am I supposed to do that?” 

“Ion know. Burp or something,” he said.

You giggled and hugged him around his middle. You grabbed a handful of his ass and squeezed. 

“You really have no idea,” he whispered. You grinned. 

He stepped back and pulled off his shorts. His dick bobbed twice, standing at attention. He was definitely thick and long and perfect. Your shyness tried to budge back in. Your heartbeat sped up thinking of that getting inside of you. 

He twisted and leaned over. You admired his body as his muscles bunched. He was solid, stocky. A thick man with amazing thighs and ass. Cool air blew across your pussy and you bit your lip. Fuck. 

He grabbed a condom. Watching him was its own brand of sensual torture. His fingers moved deftly to open the package. He rolled on the condom, pulling the latex over the length of him. He pinched the top. 

He stalked closer, running his eyes over you. “Let me take this dress off,” he said.

You smiled and nodded. He helped you pull it off. Your bra went next. “You’re so damn sexy,” he said. 

He palmed your breasts, rubbing and pushing them together. He leaned down and brought your nipples into his mouth. He moved between your boobs, suckling and placing that warm mouth around the peaks. 

Your legs jerked up. You wrapped them around his waist. His shirt got trapped beneath your legs. He pulled it out and the shirt draped across his chest. His dick brushed against you and you cried out. He was so close to giving you what you needed. Your nails dug into his sides. He ignored you. He played with your nipples until you were a bumbling, squirming mess. 

“T-T-Tyrone,” your teeth chattered.

“Mhm, I know. Ready for me?” He asked.

“Yessss,” you moaned. 

“Sure?” He asked. He rubbed his dick through your arousal. You soaked him instantly. There was so much on you. The cool air hit across it on your skin. You knew exactly how much of a mess you made. It made you hornier. How did you go through life without this? Without this feeling?

Without this obsession running in your veins. This deep-seated need. This lustful shot of adrenaline threatening to burn your skin off. 

Tyrone’s hand wrapped around your hip. His other hand guided his dick towards your entrance. He pushed in and you gasped. He slipped in thanks to how wet you were. But fuck! He filled you completely. 

“Breathe,” he commanded. He stopped and moved his shirt out of the way. “You gotta breathe.”

You nodded. He helped you take deep breaths. “That’s right. Be a good girl for me. Good girls get dick,” he cooed. 

That should piss you off. But you wanted to be a good girl for him. You wanted to listen and get praised some more. 

Your breathing evened out. Tyrone leaned down and kissed you. As he kissed you, he pushed in. Your hand flew to his chest, pushing at him. Fuck. It kind of hurt, but it was a good hurt? You could tolerate him pushing in. You clenched around him and he hissed. 

He sank inch by inch into you. He cursed the whole time. “Fuck, feel too good. Feel too good,” he muttered. “Gripping the shit out of me.”

The praise made you moan and you clenched around him. A drop of his sweat fell onto your chest. Your own sweat slick skin pebbled in the cool air. 

Tyrone moved out and then pushed back in. The slide in would hurt briefly but then morph into pleasure as you felt him move inside of you. He was deep, stretching you out. Molding your pussy to the curve of his dick. 

He began to speed up. He flipped his shirt up and held it in his mouth. He moaned. “Can still smell you,” he said, though his voice was muffled. 

Both hands held onto your waist. He moaned as he sank deeper, you welcoming him better. “You okay?” He asked.

“Yuh,” you nodded. 

“Sure?” 

“Yu-uh,” you moaned. He was doing nothing more vigorous than moving back and forth, but he felt amazing. He filled you up. He hit that deep seat of emptiness inside of you. A place you hadn’t been able to get to on your own.

The feeling brought tears to your eyes. He twisted and brought you down on his dick a little faster. “Ohmygod,” you cried. He reached a spot that made you explode all over him. 

You cursed the heavens, you cursed hell. You cursed the world in between. You felt large. Humongous. You felt like you could grab the world with both hands. Power and pleasure suffused you. You moaned out loud, heedless of anyone who could hear. 

“Oh fuck, so tight,” Tyrone hips jerked. His fingers dug into your hips. The pressure made you moan. He jerked and thrusted one more time, going as far as he was able, and you felt him pulse inside of you.

You imagined him filling you up with his cum. You moaned as the thought made your pussy throb. Tyrone twitched and panted on top of you. He left you slowly, sliding out in a way that wouldn’t hurt you.

You missed him immediately. He wiped his sweat on his shirt and took off the condom. He tied it and threw it in a nearby trashcan. 

“Are you okay?” He asked.

You flopped onto the bed. Looked up at the popcorn ceiling. Were there words to describe how okay you were? How fantastic you felt? “So good,” you murmured. 

And you did feel really good. You expected to feel shame after having sex. You’d avoided it for so long, you started to feel like a freak for still being a virgin at your big age. But you didn’t. You were mostly sore. You were going to feel this in the morning and right now, you couldn’t care less. 

Tyrone left for a moment and you just focused on your breathing. On trying to recapture that euphoric feeling of that orgasm. Chasing after it like the wayward string of a balloon. 

He returned and placed a warm cloth against your pussy. You hissed at the unexpected sensation. He cooed at you while he cleaned you up. You smiled at him. “You didn’t have to,” you said.

“Yeah, I did. I was raised to clean up after myself,” he said.

You rolled your eyes. He left once more, getting rid of the washcloth. He took off his shirt and hopped into bed with you, pulling you chest to chest. He rubbed your back and looked into your eyes.

“You’re so cute,” he said.

“You are,” you said. You bumped his nose. 

“How you really feelin’?” He asked.

“Honestly? I feel really good. Sore, but tired.” 

“Would you want to do it again?” He asked.

“Hell yes! Are you kidding? There’s so much I want to try,” you said.

Tyrone laughed, shaking his head. He pecked you on the lips. He moaned and then pressed in for longer, licking your bottom lip and rolling it between his teeth. 

“Mm, does that mean I can get back in that pretty pussy?” He asked.

You caressed his cheek. Running your thumb across his supple skin. “That’s exactly what that means.”

&&&

Psst, there's more! The Secret Tyrone Files

[megamindsecretlair]

First of all Happy New Years and how’re you doin?? I really hope you’re doin well and thriving and your loved ones are doin the same❤️

Second of all I had a thought while high that I needa get out:

Imma mess for domestic Taine. Just takin care of his woman an shit. He likes takin care of her mental load and just truly makin her feel relaxed an shit. Which brings me to his hands….he’s so beefy wit protective ass arms and he’s just ugh🤌 like imagine you had a trash ass day (school, work, family, etc) an he just caresses and massages you, tryna soften you up so youn gotta gts upset or stressed. Lights candles, brings out ya favorite oils/lotions, he even rolls a blunt for you both. He’s givin you deep tissue booty/thigh rubs and ik for a fact his strength channeled through his fingers would make me all mushy an shit….

Along that thought, he can’t help (an youn stop him) but spread ya cheeks a bit, just ta peek at ya folds, only ta see em all gushy an shit. That was a mistake because now he reeeally can’t help himself. You’re all pliable under him and he dips his fingers into ya folds “just ta taste” he tells himself. But he’s dippin into you again…and again…and again till he just says fuck it and devours you from the back. I’m talkin the messy, droolin, beard shiny a shit typa pussy eatin. You just cease to exist cuz he feels too too good. Taine is just maneuvering/manhandling your body any which way and you’re loving it, you’re loving your man. And What were you upset bout again? It’s out the window now.

Phew, glad I got that outta my system🤭

Happy New Year! Many blessings to you and ya fam! I'm getting over Covid. That is the literal devil and I'm glad to be on the other side!

And secondly...why you aint on here writing with the rest of us? Tuh. This was hot and complete all by its lonesome, you don't need me for this one, lordt!

Re-reading and re-reading all night because I, too, want that gorgeous man's big mitts on me.

If You Please

Word Count: 691

A/N: Finally a little drabble! I still write a lot but ya'll caught me on a feral night. There's no big warnings besides oral (fem receiving) and Fontaine being a horny mess. This ask was everything. Not sure if you wanted me to add to it, but couldn't help myself! Excuse me while I go re-read and re-read and re-read.

Taglist: @planetblaque @dayjlovesromance @sevikasblackgf @melaninpov @amyhennessyhouse @henneseyhoe @honeyoriginalz @justheretostan @black-fairy3 @superhoeva @jarfulloftears @hereformiles @montysstuffs @westside-rot @blackerthings @blowmymbackout @euphoric05 @miyuhpapayuh @nicolexnight @8ttached @judymfmoody @notapradagurl7 @wakandas-vibranium @soft-persephone @justabovewater20 @mcotton0928 @soapjay @heyauntieeee @theyscreamsannii @mybonafidefeelings @eggnox @honeytoffee @thadelightfulone @tranquilfandomer @kindofaintrovert @l-auteuse @browngirldominion @sunkissedebony97 @lovedlover @issahyland @nerdieforpedro @longpause-awkwardsmile @insburner @slippinninque @thecookiebratz @we-outsiiiide

And Fontaine is the type to take his time because HE wants to take his time. Because HE can't keep his hands off of you. If you had a bad day? That's okay, he'll work that shit out. Had a good day? He wants to pick you up and taste the happiness from your lips.

But a particularly bad day? Oh, he already had the bath running and candles lit while you talked to him on the way home. How you wanted him to show up with a helicopter and transport you home because you were dog tired. Tiredt!

And after your bath, he does all the work. He dries you off and lays kisses all over your face and body while he towels you down. Leads you to the bed where he lays out a fresh warm towel from the dryer. Makes you lay on your back first so he can rub lotion and smell good into your deep brown skin.

Take his time to work the body cream onto your arms, shoulders, stomach. Smooth it around your breasts because he just can't resist touching you. He rubs the top of your legs, really working his thick fingers into your thighs and finding all these tension knots you didn't know were there.

Then he asks you to flip over and you are putty in his hands. Free to mold you in his arms. To play with your hips and valleys and treasure the canvas God gave him. He rubs your back and your legs. But your ass.

Fontaine is an ass man. Nothin' sweeter than seeing those two big ol' cheeks begging to be claimed by those hands of his. It's so much he can't hold it all. But he loves trying. He loves trying to cup each cheek to see how much he can hold before your ass spills over. He loves to massage your ass.

He loves to watch the grooves and dimples he makes in your ass. The little glimpses of your pussy when he spreads your cheeks are a torture all their own. Got him bricked up and mouth droolin' just from that alone. His tongue glides over his golden grills as he can remember the last time he ate you out, just last night. How pliable and verbal you were.

One little taste won't hurt right? It's your body, he wants you to feel good all over. What better stress relief, right? He wipes his hands on the towel. He can't resist digging his fingers in and suppressing a groan at finding you wet as hell. He knew his hands on you turned you on, but not like this!

Now he really can't resist bringing your sweet essence to his lips and licking his fingers. He can't stop at one taste. Once he tasted you, he had to keep diving in for more. And more until you were sighing and moaning just the way he liked.

"Too tired," you mumbled.

"Too tired to lay there, mama?" He asked.

You couldn't argue with that logic. He didn't need anything back. He just wanted to make you feel good. Making you feel good, made him feel good. And he already got his reward. He was lifting your hips, spreading you wide, and placing his mouth against your pussy and suckling like a starving man to nectar.

He couldn't help groaning and rocking his own hips into the bed, wishing he could flip you over and fuck you. But he wasn't going to be that greedy. He could give. He could give and give until you were a shaking, trembling mess beneath his tongue. Hands splayed on your ass, spreading you open and wide for him.

His nasty little slurps filled the air. His desperate pulls for air blowing against your dripping pussy. Your weak arms grasping the pillow and pulling it close while you came in his mouth. Gushing and dripping all that succulent arousal.

Well, you weren't that tired anymore. As much as you left your job bone tired and weary, unsure how you could possibly go another day, you always found solace in 'Taine's arms.

The Secret Tyrone Files - there's always more!