#and he went with goatee | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thecoochiefairy · 2 months ago

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scorpio. onyankopon.

𑄽𑄺 warnings 𑄽𑄺 7.5K word count. blackfem!reader, onyankopon, football player!onyankopon, sweet!onyakopon, dominant!onyankapon, arrogant!onyankopon, unprotected sex, creampie, vaginal penetration, lil bit of sweet talkin’, creaming, praising, butt stuff, LOTS of dirty talk, kinda aggressive dirty talk, oral [f] [m], nasty sex chile, just a fine ass black man, minors aren’t welcome!

𝓐ᥫ᭡

𝒄𝙤𝒐𝙘𝒉𝙞𝒆𝙛𝒂𝙞𝒓𝙮 𝙩𝒉𝙤𝒖𝙜𝒉𝙩𝒔 .ᐟ from baby phat, to juno, to now—love this lil’ couple, real bad. but besides that, just wanted to do a lil something before my bday, march 8th. happy birthday to all my pisces babies. this one’s for you. also, imagine there goes my baby by usher on a loop. teehee.

𝓐ᥫ᭡ ; valentine’s day.

visual. visual. visual.

YOU WEREN’T GONNA CRY IN PUBLIC. A weak smile presented through your cupid’s bow lips, passing back a soft greeting of ‘Happy Valentine’s Day,’ as you exited the building, representations of love everywhere you went. You refused to show your vulnerable side somewhere no one cared to listen—your job.

To be honest, you should’ve gone home early. Your Mach and Mach satin bow heels echoed along the coffee shop as you waited for your strawberry refresher, a mixture of coconut milk making the drink your favorite color of pink. You started off having a good day—until it wasn’t.

Pulling into the garage of your high rise apartment, you pressed the button attached to your sun visor to activate the gate closing, parking your husband’s blacked out G Wagon in his reserved spot. The minute you shut off the ignition, you press your forehead against the wheel, letting out a deep sigh.

You didn’t want to sell yourself short—but being pregnant might’ve been easier than going back to work. While Onyankopon was enjoying the luxury of off-season, you took your opportunity to put the bug in his ear of working again. Even if he wanted another baby.

You had a masters degree in Marketing you desperately wanted to put to use, so when you finally got that interview, your pretty smile and charisma returned you with a position in management—but that unfortunately came with a price.

Business calls, meetings, lunches, sales pitches, meetings, sales pitches, business calls again. You were becoming piled with the same rotation of bullshit, and although you loved your job, you felt exhausted.

Through all of that, you still had a husband and now eleventh month old baby to go home to. Onyankopon supported your desires of going back to work, but with your schedule compiling more of work and less of your family, he was beginning to have something in common with his baby boy, Salem—he missed you. And today of all days, you were coming home later than you were supposed to.

It seemed as if your feet ached the closer you became to removing your heels, swiftly unlocking the front door of your apartment— to your surprise, bouquets of roses are the first thing you see. Signature red to rosy pink, a selection of your favorite flowers sit along the marble island of your kitchen.

Onyankopon always had it set to one of your playlists, R&B strumming through the inputted speakers along the ceiling. The room had a shadow of mulberry, LED lights vibrating the instrumentals of each song playing, accompanied by the living room's lamp.

There was your husband—legs spread along the sofa as he leaned his large upper body on the arm rest, pressing a pouch into your baby’s mouth to feed him. You’d just redone his cornrows, his lineup equally sharp as he cut his hair and goatee on a daily basis. He couldn’t stand looking scruffy, even if you liked the look at times. Tattoos cover his arms, camouflaging his throat, stick and pokes littering upon his face. The black top he wears hugs his muscular build, grey sweatpants showing the print between his legs, unable to conceal his gifted genetics.

Your face softens at the roses, turning your attention back towards your husband and baby on the sofa. It makes your heart melt.

Your voice is gentle as you question, “You’ got those for me?”

“You thought you wasn’t finna’ get nothin’?”

He glances up to your form through hooded lids. His voice was thick with his New Orleans accent, the timbre always making your heart swoon, just like when you met him in college.

“I was hopin’ you’d be home before them’ shits wilted.”

You pull your curls behind your ear, your face flushed at the sweet gesture. But your body also feels heavy, and you’re unsure if you should even acknowledge that.

You sigh, “I wasn’t able to get you anything in time—I told you I didn’t want a gift. And I wasn’t gone that long, Onyankopon.”

“Stop allat’,” he smacks his lips, “You was gon’ work through the entire day, have yo’ nigga by himself on Valentine’s Day.”

“Boy, hush. Love on yo’ baby for Valentines,” you remind, leaning down as you begin slipping your heels off your pained feet, “Is he starting to like the carrot pouches?”

“He ain’t takin’ to it like he should,” he says, making eye contact with you, “C’mon.”

“C’mon, what?”

“Tell me about work. I can see it all in yo’ face.”

Work.

That was the last thing you wanted to think about. You pad your feet over to the kitchen island, tossing your purse onto the marble as you reply, “Let me tell you. Remember how I was supposed to create this mock sales pitch and make my own bottle of wine?”

“Yeah. You was actin’ like you woulda’ had to sell that shit to the President.”

You roll your eyes as you come closer to him, “Anyways, I literally worked my ass off—made an entire script, PowerPoint, even had someone in my team create a label for my bottle! You know what them’ niggas said?”

Him being messy, he plays around as he responds, “What they’ said, girl?”

“That my idea was generic—that it seemed rushed, facile, and derivative. My three hour presentation seemed plagiarized?” You frown, “Do I look like the type of bitch to be looking over at somebody else’s work?”

“Mama, you know how these corporate niggas be. They want you to come up with their billion dollar ideas in exchange for a penny.”

He presses Salem’s pacifier into his mouth, closing the top on the baby’s food as he continues, “That’ job is bullshit anyways.”

You frown a bit, “It’s not bullshit to me, Ony. I’m really trying to show them I belong there. It’s not easy being the only black woman in management.”

“I’m hearin’ you,” he responds, “I just think yo’ time is more important than tryna’ spend it impressing a bunch of white folks.”

Back to the point of not crying in public—now, you weren’t in public. You could appreciate your husband trying to give sound advice, but it wasn’t what you wanted to hear. One thing since your pregnancy—it gave you the ability to cry at the drop of a hat.

Your sight becomes blurry as your face warms. You press your palms to your eyes, sniffling to stop the tears that roll from your vision.

“I feel so stupid.”

His brows furrow at your reaction, his large palm stretching from the plush sofa, gently pulling your wrist in his hold to climb along his lap.

“Don’t say that. Why you cryin’?”

“I worked so h—hard,” you cry, “And they didn’t even like it. I did all that for nothing…”

“Baby, that don’t’ mean you’ stupid, aight?”

He wraps his free arm around your form, other still holding Salem even closer.

“It ain’t for nothin’. You still got that degree. Ion’ know how many times I said you can do this shit on your own.”

You’re becoming more upset by the second as you rub your eyes that drop tears, nose and cheeks swelling as you softly weep, “What if I c—can’t do it by myself, Ony…”

“And who’ you think I am? You think imma’ just let you fail? Nah, baby. Come on…”

He rubs soothing circles on your side, pressing a hard kiss against your temple while holding you tight against his sturdy frame. The baby in his arms cooed as he could sense the change of atmosphere—even he started crying.

“Ah shit,” Onyankopon mutters, holding both of you to his chest, “Baby—You can do anything you set yo’ mind to. You could send a nigga to the moon if you wanted.”

That makes you softly giggle, feeling his thumb swipe the tears against your reddened face. Your eyes flicker over to Salem who creates a deep pout within his full cheeks, tiny cries ejecting as he was seemingly empathetic of his mother’s emotions.

You reach over Onyankopon’s lap, pulling his chubby frame into your arms as you coo, “Don’t cry, baby. Mommy’s just a lil’ dramatic.”

“You and Say-Say got the same theatrics, I swear.”

“Very funny—I’m so dramatic, but don’t you want a lil’ girl? What would you do with two of me?” You scrunch your nose,“And that’s why I’m not getting pregnant again.”

His hand moves to the underside of your chin, forcing your gaze back towards his face as he gives you a smirk, “You know you gon’ be pregnant again, quit bullshittin’. I be giving you that Daddy di—“

“Onyankopon,” you warn, “Language in front of Salem. Besides that, thank you for my flowers,” you lean forward, pressing kisses to his jaw, “They’re so pretty. You like my lil’ work outfit?”

You always dressed to match the theme of the holiday. The off shoulder black long sleeve you wear tucks into a matching pinstripe miniskirt, sheer tights with pink bows to match the heels you previously wore. Your dark curls always sprawled around your face, Vera Wang thinly squared frames tipping at your freckles nose, complimenting your slender eyes.

You can’t help but giggle as he grunts, dipping his finger under your skirt, tugging at the pink panties he knows you wear.

“You know pink’ my favorite color too.”

The way you relax under his hold reminds you of another factor with it being the middle of the month—you were ovulating, and every little touch, the flick of his eyes, the attraction in his smile. It makes your legs throb.

But yet, you pull yourself back as you sigh, “I gotta work on my new sales pitch.”

“You been workin’ on that bullshit all week,” he says against your neck, the hot breath against your sensitive skin making your thighs clench, “Why you denyin’ a nigga?”

You press your fingers to his mouth, “I’m not tryin’ to, Ony. They want me to present again tomorrow. Just give me some time, and then you’ll have all my attention, okay?” You promise, “Have a lil more daddy time with your son.”

“I’m tryna’ have some daddy time with you, girl,” he gruffs, “Fuck that job. I’ll drop some bands on that ass right now, give you yo’ fuckin’ salary in one’s.”

You stand from the sofa, dipping your lower body in his face, giving him a silhouette of your frame. Your curls hang to the side as you swirl your hips, “Like that, huh?” lifting up the material of your skirt, bouncing your ass playfully.

“That’s what I’m talkin’ about,” he groans, giving a harsh smack at your ass, “Look at that ass bounce, baby. I swear, you be playin’.”

You giggle as you pull your skirt back down, “I will be in our office, Onyankopon. Try giving Salem a spinach and apple pouch, and bathe him in the rice milk soap before you put him to bed—his skin has been irritated with that other body wash.”

“You’ a demon,” he groans, letting his eyes linger on your body, “Aight, Aight. Heard’ you.”

The next couple of hours are somewhat peaceful. But another con about going back to work—Salem nor Onyankopon were used to you being gone as often, so the minute you were home, they wanted to be in your skin. It wasn’t a bad thing. It just made things a bit more difficult when you wanted your alone time—like now.

You used a bit of your baby’s body wash as you showered, loving gentle scented products, dabbing a bit of your vanilla body oil along your caramel skin when you stepped out. Your cotton white slip dress hugged your child bearing hips, dark curls damp as they reached your lower back. The moment you were doing your face care routine, you heard Salem wailing, and you had no choice but to go calm him down yourself. You also spent time with your two Dobermans, Zulu and Roux, bending down with a giggle as you fed the both of them.

Onyankopon’s eyes were on you. You were used to him staring, but maybe you didn’t catch the way he looked at you today. Valentine’s Day wasn’t relatively important for either of you, as Onyankopon treated every day full of love—showering you in gifts, loving you physically, mentally, emotionally—but tonight was different. Maybe he was starting to feel like everyone else but him was getting attention from his wife.

You’re now in your home's office, wine in one hand as you’re comfortably seated on the cream colored sofa, small desk in front of you as you type away on your pink Macbook. An unknown amount of time passes by, before a knock sounds at the door.

When it opens, a shirtless Onyankopon enters. It’s as if his tattoos create another top for him, arms swelling in muscles, abs sculpted to perfection. His durag covers his head, black silk allowing his silver nose ring and earrings to glow under the office lights. A weak smile comes to your face as you see him holding two plates, using his knee to shut the door as he comes in.

“Hi,” you softly smile, “You okay?”

He was so wrapped around your finger. His dark brown eyes drank in the sight of your body, the dress tight along your curves, your dark hair making your honey freckles appear lighter, glasses perched atop of your nose.

The dimple in his right cheek peeks through his grin, “Lawd, can’t a nigga come check up on his ol’ lady without a reason?”

He gives a gentle kiss on your cheek, leaning in close, “How long ‘you been cooped up in here, baby? And when you’ last ate?”

“Ate during my break,” you quietly reply, “I’m not too hungry, love. I swear. I’m almost done with this power point.”

Your eyes lock to what smells like Cajun pasta, the shrimp and sausages wafting in your nose. You were actually starving.

“Nah, don’t even do allat.’ I know how you get when you be workin’,” he smacks his lips, “You need to eat.”

You sigh, glancing at the clock as you see it’s nearing midnight. You had to be back up at seven, and you had only done one part of this presentation.

You glance back to your husband, forcing a small smile as you repeat, “I’m good, baby. How are you?” You question, placing your hand around his arm, pulling him to sit next to you, “Salem give you a hard time going to sleep?”

“Yeah, but he’ good now.”

He sits next to you, setting your plate down as he glances back to your work. A frown plays on his face as he feels the tension within your body, noticing the exhaustion in your eyes. It was clear you were pushing yourself, and it bothered the hell out of Onyankopon.

You notice the scowl on his face, still typing as you sigh, “You came in here to berate me?”

“I came in here to check up on yo’ hard-headed ass,” he gruffs, leaning against the back of the couch.

His gaze softens as it traces your features, the determination in your eyes as you try to finish your presentation, “But I’m tired of you runnin’ yo’self into the ground. You’ been in here for hours. Can’t it wait til’ the morning?“

“I have to be back up by seven, and my presentation is at eight. I just—“ you take a deep breath, having the urge to cry again, “I just wanna get this finished before I knock out.”

Onyankopon gives a long sigh, hand wrapping around your waist as he pulls you against his bare chest, “Damn, aight. My fault, Mama.”

He pressed a kiss at your forehead, resting his chin against your curls. His large body was warm, the heat of his skin seeping through the thin cotton of your dress.

“I got you sum’.”

His voice catches your attention, leaning yourself up a bit as you say, “Me? Ugh—Ony, no more gifts, baby,” you lightly pout, “You’re the best present I could ask for today.”

“Stop allat’,” he teases, pressing a kiss against your pouting lips, “It ain’t nothin’ crazy.”

He leans behind the couch, pulling a dark brown bottle in between his fingers, “It’s some warming oil. You always be’ saying how yo’ feet hurt, I thought a lil’ massage would help that tension. C’mon.”

He stands from the sofa, reaching his hand out for you to take.

You raise an eyebrow, “Where we’ going? Baby, you know I gotta finish this.”

“You ain’t about to finish shit til’ you get yo’ ass up and let me do this for you. “

When he used that voice, you knew there was no argument. You pull off your glasses as you stand from the sofa, taking his hand and allowing him to guide you towards your shared bedroom. When the door opens, you’re presented with a massage table. The mattress atop of the mahogany wood holding it up looks soft, a fluffy neck pillow perched at the top. The room smells of mint and lemon, lights dim as your playlist returns to your ears.

Dammit. Your freckles shine as those tears you’d been holding back revive themselves, leaning your face into your fingers as you sniffle, “You didn’t have to do this for me. I’ve been such a bad wife…”

Despite being a little frustrated, he never felt that way. You were pushing yourself too hard, again, always trying to please everyone at your job. He just wanted to distract you.

“You ain’t no bad wife,” His thick hands swipe away your tears, the pads of his thumbs tracing the shape of your freckles, “You’re doin’ what you love. Nothin’ wrong with that. Stop allat’ cryin’, and come get comfortable on this table.”

He was right—you were stressing yourself more than you needed to. You nod your head, wiping your eyes as his taller frame cradles over your smaller one, pulling at the straps of your slip.

Your voice is soft as you say, “I love you, Ony,” lifting your feet to get out of the dress, turning your head back to meet his lips that dip down to find yours.

“I love you more.”

You lay along your stomach against the table, pressing your cheek to the soft pillow beneath your skin. Your body practically anticipates his touch.

He grabs the body oil he’s been keeping warm in the pot next to him, letting it drip along the balls of your feet. The minute his thumbs dug into your soles, your fingers scratch at the material of the table, holding back the groan you wanted to release. His grip is steady, knowing just how hard to apply pressure. The heel of his palm slowly massages the flesh along the back of your calves, working up higher.

You expected this to feel good, but it was too good. Your lower body begins to feel loose in tension as his palms knead into the back of your thighs, almost causing your legs to go lax. It’s when his palms lightly graze the inner flesh of your thighs, that your body tenses just a bit. A different rush of pleasure comes from that action, that it has you subtly adjust your lower half.

His gaze is low, eyes peering down at the curves of your body. He can feel the way you tensed against his touch, your thighs subtly brushing together—it coaxed him further, returning his hands to your calves, starting the process over.

Your curls hang over the table as you hide your face within your left shoulder, eyes peering behind to watch him. When his palms slide above your thighs, gripping the flesh in his hold, your body shudders, a flushed giggle spilling from your lips, the spice of the oil wafting in your nose.

You fully giggle as you feel him lean down to catch the skin of your ass in his mouth, grunting as he messily kisses the flesh, “All this shit mine,” swatting the skin with his fingers.

You breathily muse, “You’re supposed to be massaging, Ony.”

He chuckles against you, tongue flicking out in return, “I am massagin’. Just addin’ a lil extra.”

A sharp inhale drags from your lips as he runs his tongue against your spine, turning your head opposite of him as you relax against the pillow, arching your body up to meet his mouth.

He slowly works on your upper back, fingers tracing along your shoulder blades, hands sliding down your bare arms. There wasn’t an inch of your body that wasn’t being tended to, his lips pressing against your neck.

“Turn over for me, Mama. I ain’t done wit’ you yet.”

You turn yourself onto your back, hair sprawling around your face as you breathily exhale, watching him tower over you from this angle.

“There you go,” he drawls, his hand rubbing along the side of your cheek. His thumb brushes against your bottom lip, his eyes never leaving your face.

It was now a different sensation, having his touch along the fronts of your legs instead of your backside. Onyankopon was slow, taking his time, his hand slipping along the inner part of your thighs as his other palm worked along the outside.

The music seems to pool into your ears, and your entire body becomes warm without the oils assistance. The closer he comes, you raise your fingers as you slide them across his lower stomach, feeling the hard muscles of his abdomen with a slow flutter of your lashes.

His abs flex against your touch, the muscles rolling as your fingers traced the shape. Bible scriptures, your baby’s name, meaningful symbols inked along his skin like pen to paper.

“You tryna’ start sum’? C’mon now, I’m tryna be good, Mama.”

“So handsome, baby,” you lightly drag your teeth into the plush of your lips, “Sorry.”

He grabs your bottom lip, pulling it free from your mouth, “You ain’t slick,” He grunts, “But you’ cute for tryin’.”

It had to have been the wine you drank—your lower half throbbed at him daubing oil along your thighs. Your hips nearly grind at the touch of his hand, spreading your legs a bit wider.

You can’t stop yourself—the last swipe of his fingers draws into the bare dip of your pelvic. You whimper, your hand along his abdomen tugging down to his sweatpants, rubbing against the fabric of his bulge. He could hear the way your thighs squeezed together.

Onyankopon leaned forward, catching your plump lips with his own. It was quick and rough, even a little needy.

His hands then caressed you from your jaw, back to your shoulders, all the way down to your hips. Your body swayed with each touch.

“Ony…” you call softly, “I want you, baby…go slow…”

“I ain’t no gentle nigga, Mama. You know that,” his head sinks into the crook of your neck, tongue lightly brushing your collarbone, “But I’m not gon’ rush this, shit is too muhfuckin’ good.”

He takes your lips, your head knocking back as his mouth clouds all of your senses, making your head spin with every kiss he gives. Oil still splays along his fingers as he draws them down your body.

When his mouth pulls from yours, he’s mushing his lips along your nipples, sucking the brown buds into his mouth, the feeling making your head fall farther back onto the table, gasping lightly in response.

His mouth trails from one of your nipples to the next, teasing in between gentle suctions. Once he left, they’d already pucker back to their perk shape—a mixture of saliva and oil along the brown of your skin. The warmth of the lubricant rushes against your chest as he pours more, squeezing the flesh within his palms, knocking your breasts together with a grunt.

“Pretty ass fuckin’ titties.”

He’s back to kissing you. Your bottom lip became trapped between his teeth, tongue soothing the flesh with a sensual swipe against the softened texture. Your body was moving with his at one point, slowing when you felt his palm swaying up and down against your stomach, each time reaching lower.

The further he got, the more your body began to tense. It’s up until he slides his palm all the way down, the tip of his fingers brushing the inside of your thigh, swiping over your clit. His mouth catches yours as you whimper again,

instantly catching his wrist in your hold.

Even with you holding him back, Onyankopon keeps up the slight, gentle stroke, dragging his middle finger down and back against the bud. The faint pressure makes your hips twitch. His lips just barely touch yours.

“I got you, Mama. Lemme’ play wit’ it.”

It makes you clutch onto him tighter, a breathy whine releasing as he slowly begins to rub at your clit again.

Onyankopon parted your mouth back open to invade you with his lips, capturing and soothing all of your little noises, his touch—it drowned around you.

You shudder out another breath as you slowly nod your head, spreading your legs a little more. You look down as you watch him pull back, dropping saliva from his mouth, letting it slide in between your folds, coating the oil slick between his fingers. It makes you shiver.

Onyankopon lowered his brows as he used two of his fingers, sliding back up your folds, keeping them there. God, he knew he was getting to you. His fingers rubbing in a motion along your clit makes you pant against his mouth, the gush of your pussy beginning to register to your ears, your face now entirely hot.

Your thighs tremble as you have the urge to close them, keeping your fingers tight along his wrist. But as he continues, your hand weakens to hold him, too distracted by the wave of pleasure rushing against your lower body.

The pleasure goes from being good, too good, to all too much, Onyankopon’s fingers sinking into you, your mouth parting as you whimper deeply, watching the way they disappear beneath his palm. You hide your face within his chest as you whine, legs vibrating as if you’d been tased.

“Why this shit so fuckin’ wet?”

You pull him back into a kiss, crying against his lips as he fucks you with his fingers. His eyes bore into yours as he grunts, “You gon’ let go of my hand?”

You finally release his hand, spreading your legs even more as you allow his fingers to go deeper, nearly pulling your mouth away from his as you tremble, “Want your mouth, Ony…”

“That’s what you want, huh?”

“Mhm.”

“My mouth?”

“Ony,” you pout.

You could admit—you hated when you got like this. When he made you so horny that you begged for his touch, his mouth, anything he could give you. That’s when you turned your body along the massage table, leaning against the soft flesh of your stomach, imbedding your nails into the back of your thighs as you spread your opening to him.

Bubblegum pink complimented your brown flesh as you whimpered, “Come eat me, baby.”

His pupils darkened as you begged him. Your body jolts as you feel a harsh spank, your jaw dragging along the material of the table as you could feel his mouth hovering along your pussy, yet he wouldn’t make contact.

“You gon’ feed me?”

Your hips dip lower, desperately trying to find his mouth as you pout, “Promise. Lemme’ feed you, Ony.”

His nose brushes against your clit. The sensation causes you to lightly buck your hips, a deep chuckle rumbling against your thigh in return.

That’s when his mouth finally buries between your legs—Onyankopon’s tongue languidly swipes the entirety of your pussy in a slow drag, trailing upwards against your clit, making you shakily gasp in response. He laps against your pussy, almost as if he was licking a piece of candy instead of his wife, the warmth of his mouth surrounding your lower lips.

His tongue is thick, hot, and wide as he embeds himself between your folds, sucking and slurping, the wet sounds echoing in the room around you. He groaned against your pussy, tongue swirling around your opening as he teasingly thrusted inside, earning a soft whine from you.

“Ain’t finna’ give you my mouth forreal,” he murmurs between your pussy, “You need this dick, huh?”

He sucked at your clit, his tongue lashing and circling the swollen bundle of nerves. He enjoyed you, his jaw nearly pressed against your pelvis as he feasted.

Your mouth parts lightly as you reach from behind, sliding your palm against the material of his durag. His mouth was always so wet, so loud against your pussy that he grunts, “Always got me makin’ a fuckin’ mess on this bitch. You hear me, huh? Need you droppin’ on this dick like you know it belong to you. You listenin’?”

His words create more waves of pleasure, clenching your walls in need of something to fill you. You need him.

You grind against his mouth, riding the air for that sensation—you turn your head back to him, “Put it in, Ony,” you’re so horny, you beg as he shakes his head in your pussy, legs trembling so violently that your toes curl.

Turning back to see him pulling his dick from beneath his sweatpants made you want to put your mouth on the weight of his tip, but not nearly as bad as you wanted him inside of you. It was a dark pink, hefty as it slapped at the swollen lips of your walls, nearly bouncing off as he rubbed the shaft along your core.

Your folds begin to spread open, sucking in the girth that stretches you the minute he begins sinking you down on it. Your eyes flutter chaotically, rolling entirely back as that uncomfortable pinch returns, being overpowered by a wave of pleasure—you feel full, so full that you whine, “Mmmph,” dropping your hips down, your ass clapping along his abdomen echoing against the room.

Your eyes flicker to him from behind, curls falling around your face as you softly cry, “Dick so big, baby...”

“This yo’ big ass dick,” he promises, the wet noise of his tip entering your core, slowly dragging his length against your walls as you drop down— the feeling was unmatched.

His palm finds a grip on your shoulder, your body so sensitive to the touch that you’re aroused to any movement. You don’t know what comes over you, but you’re dragging yourself slowly off his dick, up until the tip kisses your entrance, rolling your hips back down, your pussy squelching as air pushes from your walls at that. Your lips part as you moan at your pussy being filled again.

He grunts, a slow burn making its way through your thighs as you reach back to take a firm hold of his sweats, dragging them down further to expose his balls. You sank down against his lap again, moaning at the pinch of your walls being stretched. You began to find a pace, a soft echo of skin clapping together as the head of his dick hits against your cervix, pressing and prodding at it, you whimpered, “Missed you so much, baby.”

The table creaks, the noise of your slapping thighs becoming louder as you bounce on his lap. His dick shifts in and out of you, Onyankopon’s grasp sliding down to your hip as he glares, “Shit, Mama…hollon.”

His dick throbbed within your walls, stretching you open as you took him inch by inch. You’re still dropping, coming down as you keep your eyes on him, “Feels like forever since you’ve been in me, baby,” you’re whining, “Fuckin’ love you. I’m sorry.”

“Oh shit,” he cusses under his breath, “Why you fuckin’ me like this?”

He spreads your cheeks, the weight of his thumb finding your hole. Your brain fogs as you register his voice, vibrations rumbling in your head. It made you gasp and shudder.

Onyankopon’s breath hitched, head knocking back as he looked down, seeing his length become more coated with your cream each time he pulled out.

“Nasty ass lil’ bitch—this pussy mine, huh?”

You could barely respond, barely think for yourself as he held you against him. The only word you managed to pant out was, “…Yours, Ony. Spank me,” you’re whimpering, “Spank me, baby.”

Onyankopon’s hand found the curve of your ass again, slapping it, the skin rippling against his touch. His grip was firm, slapping the same spot repeatedly, making you moan. His fingers find the wetness that trickled from your core, coating the fluid against your hole, pressing his thumb further into it.

He could smell that Italian bergamot in your hair, he could taste the sweet tang on his tongue from eating you before. He needed more. He needed to take more. He groans, picking up his pace as he slams his hips into yours, his dick buried to the hilt, the wet slap of his thighs against yours drowning out your cries.

"Look at that," he said, voice husky and rough, "Look at how fuckin’ good this shit looks. You mine, you ain't never fuckin' leaving me, who else gon’ fuck you like this?”

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, mouth parting as it nearly drooled, “I love you so much,” you shudder, “Oh my god,” placing your hand behind your back, wanting him to hold your arm in place.

Onyankopon’s fingers lace around your arm, slinging it around your back as he held it in place, slamming his hips against yours faster, fucking you harder. His dick throbbed within your walls, deliciously splitting you in half.

Nose buried into the crook of your neck, he caught himself inhaling the aroma of the products you used to wash yourself, always reminded that you were the mother of his child. He groaned against your ear, the wet heat of his breath giving you chills.

His fingers found the skin of your cheek, yanking your head to the side, taking your lips into a hard kiss. He sucked your lips into his mouth as he grunted, “You gon’ cum on it?”

It’s in that exact moment that your eyes flutter shut, trembling out a gasp against his mouth— Onyankopon feels as you coat his pubic hairs, clear fluid rushing out your folds like a violent chill. You lean along his shoulder as you murmur, “I’m cumming,” legs vibrating as he slows his strokes, letting you feel all inches of him.

Through your rapture, it’s as if your system is liquored with caffeine—you pull him onto the table, straddling his lap as you slide your tongue along his jaw, dragging it up his lips to pull him into a kiss. Your giggles are sultry, wanting more, needing more of him.

Onyankopon was a little caught off guard. Nonetheless he lowly chuckled, returning the kiss, sucking at your bottom lip. His hands explored your body, roaming across your back, down to your hips, squeezing at the curve of your ass.

"That wine getting to yo’ ass—You ain't tired?" He murmured, voice low and deep, "You want more?"

You nod your head, running your mouth down his abdomen as you kiss the curve of his muscles, “Just need you to lay there, Daddy.”

You’re going lower, up until your lips wrap along his balls, sucking them into your mouth indulgently.

Onyankopon eyes lowered ,"You ain't got enough stamina for all that," rubbing his fingers against your scalp, "And you know I love that shit,” he then groaned, watching you suck on his balls, tongue wrapping around them, massaging within your mouth. He felt his dick jump again, throbbing against his leg.

The sight of your husband made you even hornier. From his nose ring shining under the lights, to his tattoed face sultrily glaring at you. You’re already sliding his tip on your tongue, wrapping your fingers at the base as you pull your mouth back, feline eyes locked in his as you drop spit along his length. You then wrap your lips along his dick as you suck him into your mouth, moaning as your eyes roll back.

You were so pretty to him—from your freckled cheeks glimmering like pure honey, to the dark curls framing your round face and slender eyes. His dick was a challenge to take in fully, though you’d try anyways. Onyankopon’s tip throbbed against your tongue, his eyes fluttering shut for a mere second as you sucked him in. He felt his tip meet the back of your throat, grunting in response, fingers delicately scratching at your scalp, pushing your head down as he growled, "God damn baby, God damn.”

The growl that rumbled in his throat was loud, enough to send shivers down your spine, eyes dilated as he stared down at you. His fingers pushed against your scalp, encouraging you to continue.

You’re a sight to watch. You’re whimpering each time his tip hits the back of your throat, slapping his dick against your tongue. You moan each time it connects with your mouth.

The way you moaned. How it sounded, how it looked on you. He hummed back, throbbing between your lips, "Pretty ass, keep suckin’ that shit like that."

Seeing his pleasure sent you a new wave of euphoria. You’re sucking harder, faster, nearly whining at the pleasure that radiates through your own body.

Another wave of lust rushes over you. Onyankopon watched as you slid him out of your mouth, the slow trail of saliva was nearly too sexy, your fingers wrapping around his dick again, stroking him off.

“You want my pussy, baby?”

His brows furrowed, a low, raspy groan followed by a chuckle, "You know want that shit. So fuckin’ bad,” He murmured, the head of his dick flaring at the word, "Come drop it on me.”

You climb forward, placing your feet along the soft material of the table. The curve of your silhouette is all Onyankopon can watch, tracing your frame with his eyes as you pull his tip between your folds, the gummy flesh engulfing him as you sink down. You breathily gasp as you lift yourself halfway up, back arching as you grind your hips back down.

His head kneeled back, the feeling of you nearly too much to handle. His tip kissing at your cervix made him bare his teeth, feeling the tightening of muscles, "Ride this muhfuckin' shit," he breathed, the sound rumbling in his chest.

“Just need you to relax, baby,” you softly repeat, slowly grinding yourself up, sinking yourself back down. You drag your teeth along your reddened lips, knocking your eyes down as you moan, “You’re such a good husband, Ony…”

You’re rotating your hips, wining yourself against him, curls swaying around your face and shoulders. The way his eyes lowered is different from most times—he always had a dominance to him, but as his abdomen tightened, he was losing that restraint.

"You fine as fuck— Naaaah," he murmured, a longing in his voice as his hips stuttered, “Fuck, you can’t be doing allat’.”

A soft whine rolls off your tongue as you lock your palm against his thigh, using the leverage to drop yourself down onto him, the arousal splattering between your hot skin. You take his hand as you suck his fingers into your mouth, swirling your hips as you lowly giggle, “Lemme’ make you feel good,” your amusement thrumming into a whimper.

The hand that rested on your hip gripped tighter. His fingers pressed harder against your flesh, now rested on your collarbone, "Don't tease a nigga," eyes narrowed, lips slightly parted. You pull up your hips, slamming them back down, Onyankopon’s face twisting as he grunted, “Ooh, shit.”

The weight of his words made your thighs quiver, legs trembling as you kept the rhythm, sliding yourself down his lap as he ground himself up into you. You’re bouncing your hips against his lap, his tip jutting between the folds of your pussy each time you come up, teasing your clit that has Onyankopon growling.

“So pretty, Daddy,” you compliment, “Cum in me, I want another baby.”

His head tilted back, eyes rolling as you said that. A soft moan escapes him, hips twitching, "You talkin’ crazy," he muttered, a nervous chuckle in his voice, "C—Chillout’.”

“Salem needs a sibling.”

You lean yourself down, face inches apart as you bounce your ass on top of him, whining within his ear. It’s when he shoves his fingers into your hair to place your face within his neck, that you hear a whimper pass his lips. It makes you smile, like a seductive demon, turning your cheek to him as you whisper, “Sound so pretty, Daddy.”

“S—shit, Mama.”

Onyankopon’s moaning, your lips pressing against his jugular was almost suffocating. His mouth parted, breathlessly, his toes curling and his balls twitching, and that familiar rush came over him.

“Cum in me,” you whimper above his parted lips, his eyes rolled back as grind your hips down, “Fill me up, baby.”

The heat between your bodies grew, Onyankopon’s eyes rolling back in ecstasy as he moaned even louder, fingers scratching into the soft flesh of your thighs, hips, lower back, anywhere he could find. The rush of his release was too much, the slow build-up nearly unbearable as a warmth fills your walls.

Yet, he doesn’t stop there. His fingers were hooked into your waist, pulling you up, forcing you to come down on his dick as he grunts, “Told you to stop teasin’ a nigga," plop, plop, plop, the wet squelch of your walls was his favorite sound as he fucked into you—aside from your sobs, your eyes well with tears as you hold onto him, feeling a violent course of pleasure running through your body as you tremble, “I love you.”

“Stop cryin’,” he grunts against your lips, “You ain’t gotta cry to let me know you love me, I know. I love yo’ ass too, so cum all on this dick.”

His name left your lips, a loud, desperate squeal, and he loved hearing it. His mouth captured yours in a deep kiss, his tongue delving into the warmth of your mouth as another orgasm hits you, swallowing your moans, burying himself as deep into you as he could, as he was able.

The only thing heard at this point is the continuous song on a loop. You’re breathless above him, lazily trailing your mouth against his lips. The feeling is ticklish—so much that you give him a small giggle, cheeks warm at your own actions.

“…Ony?”

“Yeah?”

He chuckles between his breaths, feeling your body grow lax against his. He could see the exhaustion within your eyes, the way they grew a little hazy.

“You ‘bout to knock out.”

“Mm—Mm,” you shake your head, “I’m hungry.”

“You hungry?” he raises an eyebrow, “Yeah— the way you was ridin’ my shit, you should be.”

“Onyankopon.”

He laughs again, “Why you callin’ me? Can’t even get mad at that. You was’ on my shit like it was a muhfuckin’ saddle.”

“Oh god,” you place your hands over his face, “I was gonna get serious, and you’ playing. Can you stop?”

“Aight, I’m sorry. What you’ need, Mama?”

You sigh, pressing your lips together as you look at him. You then say, “Thank you…for all this. Going back to work after Salem has been really scary for me. I know I can do whatever I set my mind to, but…I miss being at home. I miss you, I miss Salem. I want another baby, Ony. Forreal this time.”

His brow quirks an inch, surprise flashing in his eyes.

“You serious, right now? You not playin’ with me?”

You can’t help the smile that grows along your face, “I mean it.”

He cups your face, drawing you in for a deep kiss, “I’d love nothin’ more than another baby with you. Can’t wait to see you waddling yo’ ass around the house again.”

You roll your eyes, returning the kiss with a couple of quick pecks. You then say, “I um…also might’ve lied to you about something earlier.”

“About what?”

“…I might’ve bought you a Valentine's gift when I said that I didn’t,” you admit, lashes fluttering against your cheeks.

He grins, “Oh… oh, you actin’ bad. Real bad.”

“Oh? Then you must not wanna hear about this Cartier watch—“ you shrug, patting his face as you get off of the table, humming as you begin making your way towards the bathroom.

His mouth falls open.

“Hollon’—you serious right now?! Forreal?!”

“I think I hear Salem crying,” you tilt your head, “Don’t you?”

“You think you finna’ leave after buying me a gift like that? Girl, I’m finna put two more babies in you!”

“Get back—you too freaked out!”

You take off into the bathroom, a full laugh choking from your lips as you feel arms tug around your hips, trapping you within his hold. And when the door slams, you giggle as he shows his infinite affection to you—as he always did.

#onyankopon fluff #onyakapon #onyankopon x black y/n #onyankopon x black reader smut #onyankopon x you #onyankopon x reader #aot onyankopon #ony smut #onyankapon #ony x black reader #aot x black reader #aot smut #aot fanfiction #aot

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fastandcarlos · 7 months ago

Text

Night Time Routine : ̗̀➛ Lando Norris

summary: you've watched him for so many nights, at last it's your turn to help lando with his nightly routine

Your smile was wide as Lando lowered his head down to rest against your shoulder, swinging his legs around so that they rested over your lap. Your arm wrapped around him to stop him from slipping as Lando let go of a dramatic, loud yawn.

Your laughter threatened to spill as a huff came from him, letting you know just how tired he was. It had been a long week of racing, and Lando was determined to let you know just how much all of it had taken out of him.

It didn’t take long before your hands to find their way into his hair, detangling his messy locks. It was a weakness of yours, but also a sweet spot of Lando’s, which didn’t help when he was already feeling so sleepy.

“Can we go to bed?” Lando whispered, pressing a kiss against your cheek to try and persuade you. “If I don’t go to bed now then I might just fall asleep here for the rest of the night,” he added.

You hummed in response, encouraging Lando to stand up before you did the same. Your hand intertwined in with his as you turned everything off before leading Lando over to the stairs, taking it nice and slow as you made your way up, taking him by surprise when you went into the bathroom rather than the bedroom.

“You’ve still got to make sure that you clean yourself up Lan.”

“I’m too sleepy, you do it for me instead love.”

You placed Lando so that he was resting against the sink, opening up his side of the cupboard looking through at all the products that he owned. A murmur came from you as you noticed his moisturiser, taking it out and removing the lid.

“Go easy on me, I’m tired,” Lando hummed, closing his eyes as he felt your hands go to his cheeks, beginning to rub the product all over his face, covering as much of his face as you could.

“Your beard is getting so long,” you laughed as your hands came down underneath his chin, tickling against the goatee that he was growing out. “You’ve got to start tidying this up a little bit better Lan.”

His head shook with a pout on his face, keeping his eyes closed for a few more moments when he felt your hands drop. “Do you know how long I’ve had to work to grow this thing out and stop looking like a teenage boy? It’ll take me months to grow it out as good as this again.

Your head shook as you placed Lando’s moisturiser back into the cupboard, picking out his toothbrush and toothpaste. He remained glued to the spot as he placed his hands against your hips, a shy smile creeping onto his face at the small distance that was between the two of you.

As he realised what you were doing, Lando slowly opened his mouth up so that you could get in and brush his teeth for him, relishing in the feeling of you doing everything for him.

“You’re enjoying this,” you teased, squeezing some paste onto his brush. Your free hand went to Lando’s jaw, holding him tightly in position as you began to brush his teeth, covering everywhere in a circular motion.

Lando shrugged, unable to hide the smile that was on his face, his eyes watching the concentration in your expression. “You do such a good job of taking care of me my love.”

After a couple of minutes, you turned Lando around so that he could spit out the toothpaste, rinsing his brush underneath the tap. You tidied everything up before nudging Lando’s waist, encouraging him to move. He stayed where he was though, holding out his hand as if to tell you that you had to take him there.

“Seriously?” You chuckled, lacing your hand in with his, turning the bathroom light off before guiding Lando into the bedroom, sitting him down on the edge of the bed.

He was a proud figure as you went over to his wardrobe, digging through and finding a fresh shirt for Lando to change into. You threw it over to him, watching it land on top of his head, but Lando didn’t move to take it away.

“Don’t tell me I have to change your shirt too?” You questioned, but you already knew the answer as he remained perfectly still. “No way are you this tired Lando Norris.”

You took the shirt off of his head before he stretched his arms up, allowing you to take his old shirt off. You discarded it onto the bedroom floor before taking the new one, placing his arms through first, then his head, before pulling it down so that it covered his toned body.

“Anything else I can do?” You asked, smiling wide when Lando’s head shook in reply to you, throwing himself down so that he was laid out in the middle of your bed.

As another yawn came from him, you used the time to sort yourself out for bed too. A groan came from Lando as you disappeared, impatiently waiting for you to return. When you did so, only a couple of minutes later, Lando was in the exact same position, with his eyes tight shut.

“I guess if you’re asleep I’ll go and sleep in the spare room then,” you joked, knowing exactly what would happen. In the blink of an eye, Lando scrambled awake, rolling over to his side of the bed so that there was plenty of room for you too.

“There's room...look,” Lando assured you, tapping the space beside him on the bed. Lando pulled the duvet back as you slid in, latching onto you as soon as you were laid down, with his arm around your frame.

Your smile was wide as Lando’s head rested against your shoulder. “Can I go to sleep now? Or is there anything else I have to do for the tired man?”

“All you need to do is lay here and cuddle me,” he whispered into your ear.

Your head nodded at his request, “you know, I think I might just be able to help you out with that one.”

“Thank you for taking care of me tonight,” Lando hummed in reply, “I do appreciate it even though I can be a giant pain in the ass.”

Your hand reached back and brushed through Lando’s hair, feeling his lips press a kiss to your cheek. As he began to settle, his eyes slowly closed, basking in the feeling of your fingertips curling through his messy locks.

As tired as he was, Lando kept a close eye on you, noticing that you were still awake. Every so often he checked again, worried when he saw that you were still staring ahead of you, unable to settle quite as well as Lando was.

“Are you alright?” He whispered, his voice taking you by surprise.

You hummed back across to Lando, “I’m just enjoying the cuddle for a little while, I’m not quite sleepy enough just yet.”

“As long as you’re alright,” Lando smiled, “is there anything that I can do for you?”

Your head shook in reply, “don’t worry about me, you just get some rest. Goodnight Lan.”

“Goodnight love.”

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

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nahimjustfeelingit-writes · 5 months ago

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House Calls

Summary: Aaliyah has an elusive charm that can be alluring to some and frustrating to others. Professor Terry is compelled to have her. On one fateful evening at his cousins bachelor party, he runs into Aaliyah. An interaction he hadn’t imagined would ever happen.

Warnings: SMUT, 18+ CONTENT, based off of Players Club, Nasty Talk, Professor!Student. ANGST.

Part Four

The burn in his muscles was a sign that he was pushing his limits, effectively working his muscles, and making the progress he set a goal for. The release of endorphins was a positive feeling Terry felt throughout. The sweat is a dark and growing map down the front of his tank top, turning it from a bright grey toward smokey. His skin is as wet as if he’d just pulled himself from a pool, yet there is no water around, only the dank elite gym he occupied that Thursday morning.

Salty droplets flowed down Terry’s face like soft summer rain, dripping onto the gym floor as he sits to regain his breath. Down his back is a dark stripe amid the light gray colour of his sleeveless top, a spreading map of perspiration. Terry blinked his wet lashes before adjusting his AirPod Pro Max headset over his ears. He’d pushed through his last set and now he needed a shower.

Pushing himself up, Terry gathered his things and headed for the showers. Once there, he found his locker and grabbed all the things he needed for a brisk shower. Within a changing room, he removed the drenched tank top from his upper body and the thigh–hugging black gym shorts on his lower half. Shoes and socks off, Terry secured a towel around his waist and proceeded towards the showers.

Warm water cascaded down his body, rolling between the cut muscles of his abdomen and the contours of his back muscles. Soap suds slicked his copper skin the more he squeezed his body sponge to release more coconut and vanilla scented soap. The soft sponge smoothed down his six pack, past his pubic hair, and down the length of his semi–hard dick.

He finished up after cleansing his face and with the towel around his waist, he headed back to his dressing room. Today he had a French class to teach on campus. Something he’d picked up last minute. Terry checked the time on his Apple Watch after dressing in a pair of khakis with a simple white button down. He decided to take his new baby for a spin: Oxblood Red Dodge Charger.

Inside, Terry checked himself out in the mirror above his driver’s side. His fingers smoothed over his trimmed mustache and goatee, smoothing in the Maracuja Oil and Shea Butter moisturizer he liked to use. His engine roared to life, and Terry rolled off the lot and straight for LSU. It took him ten minutes to arrive and he secured himself a spot within the staff parking lot. Briefcase in hand, Terry switched on his Professor demeanor and headed inside towards his classroom.

When he arrived, students were waiting along the walls and chitchatting. Terry greeted them all before opening the door to give them access. He waited until the last person entered before shutting the door behind them.

“Bonjour, comment va tout le monde ?”

The class responded.

“Est-ce que tout le monde est prêt pour le quiz ?

The students had a quiz every Thursday to test their skills from Tuesday’s practice.

“Très bien. euh... ouvrez les ordinateurs portables qui vous sont assignés et trouvez le quiz sur le tableau de bord. vous avez quinze minutes…”

Terry settled behind his desk and used that opportunity to look over his busy schedule. He had to pick up his tux later for Mike’s wedding. Stylus hovering over his iPad, Friday put a smile on his face. He couldn’t wait. The earth needed to rotate faster on its axis. After the time was up, they went over the answers and fell straight into lecture.

It was the type of heat outside that’s wet and heavy. Terry could feel the water in the air, in his lungs almost. The sensation of sweat trickling down his spine tickled and he reached around to rub the spot with his thumb.

As he was putting away his briefcase, Terry could feel an incoming call buzzing through the pocket of his khakis. He dug his long fingers between the snug fabric and as he retrieved his phone his eyes focused on his mother’s contact. Worry seeped within his pours.

“Mama, everything okay?”

“Hey, TJ. why everytime I call you, you think something is wrong?”

Terry waited until his mother’s laughter died down before speaking, a smirk teasing his full lips, “Last two times you called, it was bad news. And you called me back to back.”

“Well, this time it’s me calling to check on you. Are you at work?”

“I’m leaving. Had a short day today. I’m doin’ good. Been busy, goin’ to pick up my tux right now. How you and Pop?”

“Good, baby. He’s out right now to Home Depot. You know he’s still tryna build that shed, right?”

Terry chuckled, settling into his drivers seat.

“Wish I could help.”

“He’s got some help, some buddies up here.”

“Good thing,” Terry cranked his AC, “Tell him to take it easy now. We don’t need a repeat of last time.”

“I know, I know. I’m keeping an eye on ‘em. I love you, TJ. I’m not gonna hold ya up. Call me when you get settled, okay?”

“I promise I will. Tell the boss I said I love him.”

“Will do, baby.”

——

That Thursday evening, Aaliyah lit some candles in her living room after enjoying a quick meal of seafood boil ramen. It wasn’t the healthiest, but she’d been craving it for a week straight. Curled up on her couch in her birthday suit, she enjoyed a glass of red wine while watching YouTube from her flat screen. It was a video about how a girl hexed her best-friend. The lengths that people go when they’re envious and jealous of others success had Aaliyah tripping.

Buzz Buzz

Aaliyah checked her phone. Terry texted her a photo of himself laid up on the couch with his glasses on and his cat, Orion, curled up in his lap. He looked so cute with his big, toothy grin. She could see his entire upper body, the teasing display of honeyed skin across his neck, shoulders, arms and abs beneath the orange hue of his living room mood lights set something off in Aaliyah.

Oh…to see all of that in person. To press her nose against his chest and drag her tongue over those nipples…count the moles that littered his skin…feel the firmness of his muscles and the softness of his blemish–free skin. She wished she were lying in his lap. Her cheek against his growing erection. Her mouth watering to taste. Ever since she straddled her Professor in his truck, Aaliyah couldn’t stop thinking about him. She couldn’t control the way her clit ached deliciously whenever she recalled the way his thick bulge created the perfect friction on her clit.

His nose pressed against her neck sent chills down her spine. His big arms squeezed her tight and she craved the sensation of being glued to him in such a cramped position. Aaliyah clenched her thighs tightly and bit down hard on her bottom lip to contain herself of moaning. Ignoring the way her pussy throbbed with an insatiable need for him, she replied with heart eyes.

Aaliyah: 😍😍😍

Terry: I miss you

She found herself blushing into her hand.

Aaliyah: I miss you too.

Terry: Can I call you? Been awhile since I heard that cute little voice.

Aaliyah sat up and pondered. She definitely wanted to talk to him, but the wine was shooting straight to her pussy and she knew what calling him would do.

Fuck it! Stop holding off! Get yours…

Aaliyah: Sure 😌

Stomach muscles tight with anxiousness, Aaliyah waited. Terry’s call came through seconds later.

“Hey, pretty girl.”

Aaliyah blushed hard.

“Hi,” She traced her hip with an almond–shaped nail painted a pinky–nude, “How’s my favorite professor?”

“Better now that I’m talking to my favorite student. You doin’ okay?”

“A lot better. You have that effect on me.”

“Yeah?”

“Uh-huh.”

“As long as I can put a smile on that face…I hate to see you sad and crying…”

Aaliyah rolled over onto her back on the couch and beamed. The only crying she wanted was from that dick.

“You smiling now, ain’t you?”

“Maybe,” Aaliyah looked up at her ceiling.

“You are. I can hear it in your voice…”

His voice through the phone with its deep baritone and smoothness had such a hold on her. How was it that this man could have such an effect on her every being without even trying? She told herself she would never be this spung off a man again and now look. Giddy.

“Okay, I am…”

“I already knew that, I just wanted you to admit it.”

“Whatever,” Aaliyah rolled her eyes, “Where are you taking me tomorrow?”

“Didn’t I tell you it’s a surprise? You can’t always get your way, baby.”

“It better be worth my while.”

Terry chuckled, “Or what?”

“It’s gonna be a problem.”

“Aaliyah…”

His laughter on the other end of the line prompted her to giggle.

“Aight now, girl…don’t talk tough through the phone.”

“Do what I want and maybe I won’t.”

“Like I said, it’s a surprise. Settle down before I make you.”

“How will you do that exactly?”

“You want me to show you?”

Aaliyah twirled a strand of hair while nibbling on her lip.

“Aaliyah?”

“Show me when?”

“Tonight.”

“Can’t wait until tomorrow?” Aaliyah asked with a laugh.

“I’m afraid I can’t…feelin’ too heavy right now…”

Heavy? Aaliyah clenched her thighs. He was definitely heavy alright.

“Where you feelin’ heavy, Terry?”

He chuckled slightly and then a slight pause followed.

“…This dick you was sittin’ on.”

Aaliyah peeled the phone away from her ear and her eyes rolled shut. That glint in his voice…ooooh…this man…

“Mmm, It was heavy…”

“It is right now…right…now…”

Aaliyah liked where this was going. She placed a nail between her teeth, horniness reaching a fever pitch. Fuck it. She wanted this man. She’d played around for too long. It was time to get acquainted with that fat dick in all the possible ways. In her mouth, in her pussy, in her ass, dragging across her face…

“When I came back home Wednesday…I played with my pussy. That dick had me thinking about how good it’ll feel to stretch me out.”

“Fuck…”

Aaliyah could hear him in the background shuffling. She pictured he was freeing that heavy dick right now, gripping it up tight and swinging it back and forth. Ugh.

“I’ve never felt a print that heavy on me before…”

“Damn shame, baby…that pussy cat tight so I know I gotta fit all of me in there real slow. You like it slow?”

“Mhm,” Aaliyah tweaked her left nipple, “I can feel it all better that way.”

“Me too. Just watch my tip push in…keep them legs open while I sink deeper…”

The heat index in that living room was overwhelmingly high. Aaliyah molded her back into the cushion beneath her and spread her thighs. She could hear her pussy lips spread. A creamy sound. Staring down the valley of her gorgeous body, she rubbed two fingers between her folds to gather all that wetness on her clit.

——

Terry was seated on one of his accent chairs. Shrouded in an orange glow, he lazily twisted his stiffness and occasionally curled his fingers around his hefty sack, rolling it. Pre-cum connected to his briefs and it wouldn’t stop flowing the more that sweet voice in his ear teased him. He needed to bury himself to the fucking hilt deep in her. Fuck a plan for Friday. Terry wanted to fuck her fine ass stupid.

“I like to watch it go in and out…”

Terry grunted.

“I can’t wait to see that stuck look on your face when I put this dick up in you.”

“I bet it’s a pretty dick…”

“I bet that pussy pretty. Pretty pussy and her pretty mama…”

He squeezed the area beneath his tip, pre-cum coating his fingers for more slip.

“That dick in your hand, Terry?”

“Mhm…that tasty pussy out?”

“Yessss…I’m rubbing her right now.”

“How you play wit’ that pussy, baby?”

Aaliyah giggles, “I stroke my clit…then I push my fingers inside…go back and forth until I make myself cum…”

Terry chewed hard on his bottom lip and he closed his eyes to picture Aaliyah on her back and looking up at him with those sultry eyes.

“You know when I get you I’m eating that pussy good…”

“That’s what I want.” She replied with a breathy tone.

“I’m eating it ‘til you cry, baby…”

“Unh…”

“Do that again…make that sound again…”

“…Unh….”

His dick throbbed in his grip.

“When I stick my tongue in it I want you to look at me and moan just like that.”

“Yes, daddy…”

Terry’s hold tightened around his rigid pipe. He’d never been called daddy, but hearing it from Aaliyah, he wanted her to say it again and again.

“I don’t stop…even when that pussy cum…”

The faint sound of her wet pussy in his ear sparked him to pump faster. This was the most he’d beat his dick in a while. That Wednesday evening, while he was taking a long shower, Terry fucked up into his hand, water splashing and the slick soap creating the best sound and texture in the palm of his hand. His cum shot out like a spiderweb. The biggest cum load he’d seen in a long time. All because of her.

“Mm, fuck…”

Mewling and whimpering.

Terry felt the pressure rise from his balls to the tip of his dick in an instant. He was ready to let off a nut.

“Fuck…Aaliyah…I need you on this dick…right fuckin’ now…I hear that pussy talking…keep fingering that pussy…uh-huh…good girl…such a gooooddd girl…”

“Uhhhhnnn—”

“There you go…let it out…let it all out—FUCK—”

“Cum for me, daddy!”

Terry tilted his dick towards his taut abdomen and painted it with his thick cum. The more he stroked, the more the puddle grew.

“Goddamn…”

“I wish I was there to lick it up…”

His dick twitched.

“I bet you don’t miss a drop.”

“I just know it taste good…”

“You think that throat ready for me?”

“As many times I’ve fantasize about sucking that big dick beneath your desk, I’m more than ready.”

Terry couldn’t believe how hard he still was. He scrunched his face up with arousal and he was unable to contain his excitement to finally get a chance to feel that throat. She probably sounded like an angel slurping and sucking on dick. Her soft moans around his tip…that jeweled tongue lining the path his veins created…spit drooling from her greedy mouth while she looked him in the eyes like a good little slut.

“Fuuuck.”

Terry watched in disbelief as another eruption hit him. He didn’t even touch it. Mouth agape, eyes low and sleepy–like, he watched his dick jump and spasm as more cum escaped his slit. He titled his head back and grabbed himself, jerking to empty his balls fully.

“Professor…”

The sound of liquid hitting a surface titillated his ears.

Fuck. She was squirting.

“Aaliyah…fuck, baby…are you squirting?”

“Yes!”

“I can’t wait to get my hands on you…cute ass moans…I just wanna make you cry and cream. Wish I could kiss that pretty girl goodnight, huh, baby?”

“Just as much as I wish I could wrap my lips around that dick. Send me a pic of your cum.”

Terry aimed his camera on his abdomen and snapped a quick photo before sending.

“Holy shit…that’s a lot…so much wasted…”

She sounded mesmerized. Terry loved that.

A text came through from Aaliyah and it was a photo as well. A photo of her fingers and a large wet spot on her bed. That pussy was nice and messy like he liked. Terry loved it extra gushy. If he had to play in it to get it drippy like he wanted it before fucking it he’d do it for as long as he could. He wanted that shit tangled in his pubic hair, painting his dick, and hanging from his balls.

He wanted that shit so sloppy that his dick would thrust with ease. Bonus points if he painted her walls with his cum. Mixed releases making that pussy talk. She would be sick of him. Begging him to stop. All while he continued to drill. Beat it and eat it. Over and over. He had the stamina to prove it.

“Good girl, that’s how you play in that pussy…my tongue is itching for a taste of that sweet shit again…”

“It’ll be all yours tomorrow.”

Terry pouted slightly.

“I’m gonna go…I need another shower.”

“Me too,” He stared down at the cum stains on his skin, “See you in the afternoon. Hope I didn’t keep you from your studies for that test tomorrow.”

“Don’t worry. I studied earlier. I’m ready. I needed this though, it’s been a while…”

“Happy to be of service. Goodnight, beautiful.”

“Nite, handsome. Think of me.”

“I plan on it.”

——

The slim–fit, black button down of his shirt was the first distraction for Aaliyah.

She’d made it to campus early, not dressed in her usual style of relaxed attire. To her defense, it was drastically humid outside. Aaliyah wore a red, flabby skirt with a flannel shirt over a basic white tee. On her feet she had on a pair of low, all white converse. Her sleek hair was pulled back from her face with a black claw clip and situated over her eyes were her squared, black frames.

Aaliyah found an unoccupied table within the study hall near class and used that hour to do a final look–over of her notes. Her leg bounced beneath the desk as time went. After taking a sip of water through her Stanley cup, Aaliyah could hear the sound of dress shoes against vinyl composition tile. She looked up through her lashes and fought the urge to smile when their eyes connected.

Last night flooded her mind again.

And she knew the same had happened to him.

Sexual tension so thick between them.

The tickle at the pit of her stomach caused her thighs to squeeze together tightly. It wasn’t the brightest thing to do, because now her clit was throbbing. Silently urging her to feed into that tingling sensation. Those green eyes could see right through her. Aaliyah allowed others to fill into the room first. Her eyes fell to his retreating back and then her gaze traveled down until she was staring at his ass sitting profoundly within his black slacks.

Distraction number two.

She wanted to sink her nails into it while he fucked her deep.

“Excuse me…”

Aaliyah was blocking the path towards the laptops for their exam. Gathering herself, she made way for the other students to pass.

“As soon as everyone has their assigned laptops, you can get started. You have an hour. After that, you’re free to leave. If you have any questions, simply raise your hand and I will come to you.”

Aaliyah had a ton of questions.

Why is your dick so big?

What position do you want me in first?

Can I ride your face?

In her seat now, Aaliyah opened her laptop and after locating her exam, she dived right in. So far, the multiple choice and short answer questions weren’t too difficult. After selecting B for the 20th question, Aaliyah’s eyes glanced up and Terry was pacing the front of the class. He caught her staring and with a disapproving look, he tilted his head towards her lap top for her to finish. Aaliyah held in a giggle and went back to doing her exam.

So much for breezing through. The closer she got to the finish line, the more challenging the questions became. She re-read the short answer question, eyes flicking to the remaining time. She had ten minutes left and eight questions remaining. That wasn’t enough time to waste. Her hand shot up in the air and Terry headed over towards her. He settled in front of her desk and slightly bowed his head so that he could whisper to her. Aaliyah connected eyes with him.

“Yes, Miss Davenport?” He said with a hushed tone and a stern expression.

Distraction number three.

“I’m confused on this question here…”

Her finger pointed to her screen. Terry blinked his bluish–green eyes away from her distractingly–beautiful face to see exactly which question she was having trouble with. Aaliyah watched his lips move as he silently read the question.

Distraction number four.

“What constitutes the nature of right and wrong?”

He glanced at her.

“It’s not a trick question, Miss Davenport. That’s all I can give you. I’d hurry along…you have seven minutes left and eight questions remaining.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Terry gave her one final look before slipping away, the scent of his cologne remained however. Aaliyah typed in the best answer she could give and then she finished the remaining multiple choice questions to the best of her ability. The exam closed and the subtle sounds of groaning and lip smacking from other students meant that they didn’t have time to finish.

She hoped she did well. Closing her laptop, Aaliyah lifted from her seat to put it away. Terry was talking closely with a student. Aaliyah didn’t want to make it obvious by sticking around, so she grabbed her things and left the room. Out in the hall, she released a sigh of relief, noticing a few classmates huddled around to discuss the exam. Aaliyah sauntered over to hear what they were saying, agreeing about specific questions and happy that others mirrored her choices. Professor Terry exited the lecture hall with his briefcase in hand. Aaliyah watched him turn rightward, signaling to her that he was on his way to his office.

She didn’t have any other plans that afternoon. She waited until everyone dispersed before walking to his office. As she drew closer, the realization of what she was about to do begun to take hold of her body. Her footsteps came to an abrupt halt in front of a commercial wooden door with a privacy glass panel. A metal plaque hung above the window with the words: Professor Richmond’s Office engraved in it.

Aaliyah glanced from one end of the silent hall to the other. She raised a fist and knocked three times. The distant sound of footsteps followed by the jiggling of the door handle caused her breath to hitch. The door creaked open and Terry peeked his head out at her. Aaliyah entered and Terry pulled her around the door so fast her feet were levitating from the floor.

His door shut with a muffled click.

Terry reached down and snatched her school bag from her hand and her cup. He placed her things on a small table before picking her up. Aaliyah gasped, legs being forced around his waist and locking at the ankles. Terry pressed his forehead against hers before pressing his lips into hers. They settled into a fervent kiss, loud smacking followed by soft exhales filling the cluttered office. The distant sound of an old grandfather clock ticking and the occasional car past the tiny window filled her ears.

Terry’s big hands cuffed Aaliyah’s ass through her skirt. The soft almost silky material glided over her skin in the best way. Heads swiveling, tongues moving in a desperate motion, they continued to explore each other’s mouths, never coming up for air. His mouth tasted like kiwis and ginger. His lips were moist and soft. Aaliyah’s hands clung to his shoulders. Terry kept one hand on her ass and then the other smoothed up her slender back.

“Terry…”

Aaliyah unraveled her legs and Terry let her down gently. She peeled away from him to look around his office. She’d never seen the interior of it. How was he moving around such a small space with his big stature? She almost bumped into a pile of books but Terry stopped them from tumbling over with his hands. Aaliyah giggled into her hand, apologizing for her clumsiness.

“How do you get anything done in here?” Aaliyah asked.

“I don’t spend too much time here. There’s years worth of history, that’s how I found this,” Terry presented the little book to her that he carried with him and read passages from during lecture, “A lot of great points on these old pages…”

Aaliyah skimmed through the dusty spines of old texts. Terry watched her with his arms folded behind his back. She looked back at him over her shoulder with a teasing smirk.

“It’s a little stuffy in here,” Aaliyah removed her flannel shirt, “Much better…”

Terry’s eyes scanned her body slowly.

“That skirt is a choice…what made you wear that today?”

He tilted his head at her with a knowing look.

“It’s so hot out…”

Terry hummed. He didn’t take his eyes off of Aaliyah as he rolled up the sleeves to his button down shirt.

“Didn’t stop you from wearing sweat pants and hoodies before, Miss Aaliyah. Who do you think you’re fooling?”

Aaliyah simply giggled.

“C’mere…”

Terry curled a finger, beckoning her over. Aaliyah placed the tip of her tongue between her teeth and with a sinuous grin she slowly approached Terry, never taking her eyes off of him. He stared down at her short frame while leaning against his desk.

“I had a good time on the phone with you last night,” Terry stroked her chin with his thumb, “You’re such a nasty girl…”

His thumb smoothed over her bottom lip. Terry glided his thumb across it, rubbing in her gloss. That same thumb slipped into her mouth and Aaliyah’s lips wrapped around it and started sucking. She sucked hard. Terry cocked his head, watching her with those powerful eyes. His own lips parted and his pink tongue sat in the corner of his lips.

“You want something to suck on?”

Aaliyah nodded her head, batting those pretty lashes at him all innocent. She was far from innocent.

“Show me that tongue…there you go…”

Aaliyah poked her tongue out for him. Terry stroked her tongue, playing with her tongue ring.

“Can’t wait to feel this on my dick…”

He looked so articulate with his glasses but that mouth on him was deliciously freaky. Another box on her list checked off. He can talk you through it.

“Pretty mouth…such a pretty mouth…”

His thumb slipped from between her lips and Aaliyah dropped to her knees instantly. As she went to work, her eyes never left his. The sound of his belt and the zipper was so loud it was almost deafening. Terry lifted his shirt a little higher, revealing cut muscle with a deep v–cut. Aaliyah’s lustrous eyes noticed a vein along his hip leading down. With a final tug of his pants, that dick she’d been dying to see bobbed out.

The two–toned complexion of his pleasure rod was beautiful. Deep veins created a sinful texture along the girth of his shaft. To be fat and long was a blessing. Terry was blessed. Heavy balls sat tight and suckable. That tip was fat and wet from precum. That big dick jumped in her face. Aaliyah’s eyes slowly ascended to meet his. Terry was staring down at her with silent dominance. His musk mixed with whatever soap he’d used to wash with filled her nose and it almost made her eyes roll.

Touching him and feeling the heat of his manhood sparked a deeper appreciation for that heavy dick. Whatever earlier reservations she had about fucking her professor went straight out the window. Aaliyah’s eyes slowly followed the path her fingers took caressing his well–hung dick. There wasn’t much else to say. The expression on her face was enough to tell.

“Go ‘head put that dick in your mouth.” Terry commanded.

His deep voice. Aaliyah whimpered.

“Closed mouths don’t get fed, baby…”

Aaliyah’s eyes remained locked on him and her tongue licked from the base to the tip. Terry’s brows pinched together slightly when her tongue swirled around his tip. He gripped the edge of his desk like he’d do in class, long fingers holding on so tight the veins in his arms and hands bulged. Aaliyah kissed his pink tip lovingly. The tip is her favorite part. Spongy and sensitive. Terry’s bedroom eyes fringed with thick lashes watched with an unblinking stare. His full lips were parted a fraction.

Aaliyah finally wrapped her lips around him and Terry took it upon himself to remove her claw clip. His long, thick fingers threaded through her sleek strands, pulling it into his fist. Aaliyah never took her eyes off of him. She used her hands to push his shirt up further so she could see that six pack. She’d wanted this dick in her mouth since the bachelor party. The way he looked at her like he wanted to devour her. How possessive he became when Darell tried to suck on her finger.

“You suckin’ it like you wanted this dick for a long time…”

“Mhm…”

Aaliyah worked her neck and jaws. He had this look on his face like he couldn’t believe such a sexy bitch was on her knees worshipping his big dick.

“You’re so sexy…oh, fuck, so sexy, baby…suck that dick…good girl…that’s my good little student…”

The slurping sounds grew louder. Spit bubbles and thick saliva trickled down her neck. She didn’t care about the sloppy mess. Neither did he. Aaliyah gripped his muscular thighs and focused all her energy into making him cum with her mouth. She was sucking the dick for her pleasure, not his. After seeing all that cum on him in that photo last night, she’d been feigning to swallow it all. She just knew it tasted good.

“Damn, gorgeous,” Terry gripped his dick and slapped it on Aaliyah’s tongue, “look at that tongue ring…nasty girl…unnhhh…you love the way this dick feel in your mouth, pretty baby?”

“Yes,” Aaliyah puckered her lips for Terry to slap his heft on it.

“I’ve wanted to do this to you for months now…I finally got you on your knees…right where you belong…you’ve teased me for a minute now…you had me ticked off with all that fuckin’ teasing shit…”

Terry forced his dick further down her throat. Aaliyah gagged. She pushed at his thighs and quirked a brow up at him with a smile on her spit–covered lips.

“Open your mouth…”

Aaliyah stuck her tongue out further and presented her throat to him. Terry could see her uvula dangling and the cavity where his dick belonged. He plunged back in with a fist full of Aaliyah’s soft hair.

“Keep those pretty eyes on me…good girl…that’s what you do, hear me? You follow directions…”

Terry picked up the paced and started fucking her throat. Aaliyah felt hot tears prick her eyes. She breathed through her nose and allowed her fine as fuck professor to dig her throat out. He tugged on her hair, his dick falling out her mouth.

“Uhn uh,” Terry pressed his face closer to hers with a dangerous look in his eyes, “Spit on it…more…spit on my shit…good girlllllll…slurp it up…I said slurp it, Aaliyah.”

Aaliyah went to work on that dick, hand between her legs rubbing her clit with her panties to the side. Terry was falling into her trap. She locked eyes and swallowed his nine inches whole and that had him losing his damn mind. He let go of her hair and braced himself on the desk while Aaliyah two–hand stroked with her mouth suckling.

Terry had to remove his glasses.

Those green eyes narrowed and she could see them roll almost to the back of his head. His mouth opened and a punctuated sigh followed by a groan escaped his mouth. His brows raised when she sucked gently on his balls while stroking his dick. To see him come undone had her pussy dripping. She was dripping onto the carpet.

“Aaliyah, FUCK,” he said through clenched teeth, “yeah? You love this dick, huh? Make this dick cum, fuck, don’t stop…ughhhhhhhhhnnnnn…..”

Terry cradled her head as his body seized up. He locked eyes with her, dick throbbing in her throat. Heavy spurts of cum enough to choke on released and she sucked it down happily. The palatable taste was so delicious she wanted more. Aaliyah’s lips popped off his dick and she stood, wiping the corners of her mouth like she’d just enjoyed a meal. Terry didn’t take his eyes off of her. Aaliyah snatched up some tissue to clean off her chin and neck.

“You okay there, Terry?” Aaliyah teased.

Terry exhaled with a shake of his head. Aaliyah cleaned him off as best as she could before putting his still hard dick back in his pants. She patted his bulge before kissing his cheek.

“I’ll leave you to it then, See you tonight—”

Terry grabbed her hand to stop her from walking away. He’d finally found his voice after that killer throat work Aaliyah gave him. He pulled her into him and rammed his tongue in her mouth.

One hand lifted her skirt up. The fingers on his other hand wrapped around the back of her panties and pulled.

Hard.

——

A tearing sound.

Aaliyah gasped.

He’d torn her panties to shreds.

Was he going to fuck her against the desk?

A knock came to the door.

Aaliyah tensed up.

Terry placed a finger to his mouth to shush her.

“Yes?” Terry replied to the knocking.

“Sorry to disturb you, Terry. It’s Jacqueline. I was wondering if you still plan to attend the meeting this afternoon with the advisors?”

Terry picked Aaliyah up and sat her on his office chair. He threw each leg over the arms of the chair. Aaliyah cut her eyes at the door. She could make out the silhouette of Jacqueline beyond the privacy glass.

“I plan to attend, when does it start?” Terry got down on his knees and with both hands he tugged on Aaliyah’s hips roughly, bringing her ass over the edge of the chair.

“In an hour. There will be lunch. It’s in conference room A today…”

The wheels slid across the carpet from Terry positioning Aaliyah with her legs wide open. Her skirt had ridden up and right before his eyes was Aaliyah’s pussy.

“Good…because I’m starving…”

Terry looked into Aaliyah’s eyes with intensity.

“Alright, I’ll see you then.”

Terry waited until her footsteps disappeared. He shot up to his feet, long legs leading him to the door. He checked that it was locked before situating himself on his knees again. Terry needed to take a moment to just…admire it.

Smooth, brown, pink center, wet and creamy. Fat lips with fleshy folds made for sucking. Clit nice and hard. Definitely a pretty pussy.

“I ain’t wanna be rude and tell her to fuck off…damn, Aaliyah…damn…”

Terry used his thumbs to spread her. Aaliyah hid her face against her left knee. Each time he would spread her, you could hear the creamy sound of her entrance. He needed to stop playing with it like that. Aaliyah was losing her damn mind.

“Such a pretty pussy,” Terry licked his lips, “You like the way I call your pussy pretty?”

Aaliyah replied with a, “Uh-huh,” with the back of her pointer finger situated between her lips.

“I love how misty your eyes look right now…you need this pussy ate, don’t you pretty girl?”

“Yes,” Aaliyah replied with her sweet voice laced with lust, “Can you talk to me while you eat it, daddy?”

Terry used one thumb to raise the hood on her clit while his other hand had a firm grasp on the chair to keep it in place. He didn’t need it sliding away while he devoured. Without further ado, Terry’s tongue poked out and flattened against her wide open pussy. He put his face in it with his nose pressed against the top of her pussy.

Aaliyah had to bite down on the back of her hand to stop from crying out. Terry’s tongue felt like a tentacle slithering and wiggling on spots that had her eyes crossing. His lips sucked with light pressure on her clit.

“Terry…Terry…Terry…”

He looked at her and it was the most beautiful thing ever. She couldn’t keep her eyes focused on him. That mouth had her seeing the galaxy. Aaliyah’s breathy moans fueled him to go harder. He placed his arms over her spread thighs to keep them back and focused all his energy into making her cum in his mouth. That fat tongue poked her hole as deep as it could go and his lips suckled her clit. He would alternate between light stokes to flickers.

“You taste so good,” Terry smiled at her before licking her clit again, “So sweet…”

“HUH—”

She had to cover her mouth when he circled her clit with his tongue.

“Keep lookin’ at me like that…watch the way I eat you up…”

Aaliyah could only moan. Whenever she tried to speak, Terry would do something with his tongue and lips and it would shut her up. She did make sure to keep his mouth right where it belonged. She had a hand on his head.

“You just keep creaming on my tongue…”

“Why you taste so fuckin’ good, huh?”

“Keep those pretty eyes on me…”

“You know how much I’ve longed to put my mouth on this?”

“Cum in my mouth, now…”

Thighs quivering, body shaking…

“Fuck, Terry, I’m cummingggggggg,” Aaliyah whispered with a tremble in her voice.

She enclosed his face between her thighs and squeezed her eyes shut tightly. Her mouth dropped open into a silent scream. Soft squeaks leading into tiny whimpers filled his ears. Terry ate her through her orgasm.

When she finally relaxed he gave her soft kisses to her pussy and she dragged her nails through his short curls. Terry peeked up at her and smirked and Aaliyah smiled.

“Kiss me…”

Terry leaned in and Aaliyah swiped her tongue over his lips. Terry parted his lips for her and they tongue kissed.

He broke the kiss, fixing her skirt before standing. Aaliyah stood and her eyes fell to the torn pieces of fabric that was her panties. They both laughed before Terry cleaned it up and tossed it in his briefcase. He’d discard it later, not wanted to leave any evidence behind. Aaliyah took her time fixing her hair in a wall mirror near the door. The scent of her pussy in his mustache caused him to use his fingers to push his upper lip against his nose.

“What time are you picking me up tonight?”

Aaliyah fluffed her hair while looking back at Terry over her shoulder with those eyes he always got lost in. His brown–eyed girl.

“What time are you picking me up?” She asked again

Terry couldn’t help but to lick his lips as he placed his glasses on, “Six. Dinner reservations are at eight–forty–five. It’s in N’awlins. And I was thinking…it’ll probably be best if you pack something light to take with you. Figured it’d be smarter to stay there for the night instead of driving an hour or so back home, ya know?”

Aaliyah settled between his legs and Terry wrapped his arms around her while her arms draped over his shoulders.

“I have plans with some girls on Saturday, Terry…”

“Postpone. With the way I plan on having you, it won’t be a girls night…”

Aaliyah giggled. She pecked his lips a couple times before staring into his eyes.

“Fine. I’ll reschedule.”

“Good,” Terry kissed her neck, “Wear something sexy…with the tallest heel…I love how your legs look when you wear them…”

“Your wish is my command.” Aaliyah whispered against his lips.

She slipped away from him and Terry reached out to pop her on the ass with a bite of his lip. Aaliyah looked back at him with flirty eyes while bending over to retrieve her bag and cup. When she straightened back up. She walked to the door, stopping short to lift her skirt and make her ass clap. She gave him a lick of her lips before leaving him in a daze.

——

Aaliyah flung a few choices on her canopy bed. The sheer, black curtains rubbed against her naked body as she stared between the three choices. A short, black cocktail dress, a form–fitting red dress with a plunging neckline, and a floral summer dress with a high split and her back out. Time was ticking and she still needed to pack her bag. Aaliyah went with the summer dress since she hadn’t worn it yet. She stood in front of her mirror and slipped it on over her skin that glistened from the cocoa radiance body oil she used. It was a sexy dress that would be enough to tease him throughout the night.

Aaliyah packed her bag with an orange bodycon dress, gold sandals to match with accessories, underwear, a satin slip to sleep in, hygiene and hair care needs, some flip flops, a hoodie, and a pair of sweats. Out in her living room, Aaliyah sat on her couch to strap on her stiletto red bottoms. She went for a more glamorous makeup look and a brown lip combo that accentuated her bow–shaped lips.

She’d gone through with canceling her plans for Saturday and it spurred her girls to question her about the man she was spending the weekend with. She didn’t disclose anything to them about Terry, not because he’s her professor, but because she wanted to enjoy him. Her friends didn’t need to know anything right now.

A knock to her door brought her to her feet and Aaliyah peered through her peephole. Terry was standing there dressed in all black with Christian Dior loafers on his feet and a Rolex on his left wrist. He was holding a bouquet of red roses. Aaliyah opened the door and greeted Terry with a megawatt smile and bright eyes. He smiled back at her, opening her storm door to enter her home.

The aura and energy of Aaliyah’s home matched her personality. Seductive and sensual. Low ambience, darker color scheme, the subtle hint of a bitter-sweet floral fragrance. Terry kissed her lips before presenting the roses for her. Aaliyah thanked him and they walked towards her kitchen where she replaced the dying tulips in a vase on her small, dining table with Terry’s roses.

They were on a tight schedule, so Terry led Aaliyah out of her home and down the stairs carefully. His Hellcat with a glossy, beet–red finish awaited them. He opened her door and helped her inside before jogging around to his side. They set off for an hour drive, Terry’s jazz playlist the perfect mood. He couldn’t stop stealing glances at Aaliyah and saying how beautiful she looked. She returned the compliment, saying how handsome he is.

They talked about anything under the moon and laughed at moments. Aaliyah spilled tea and Terry clung onto every word. It definitely helped to keep the long drive going. The thrill of seeing Terry again stirred within her as she listened to him talk. They arrived to their destination, a hotel not far from the restaurant. Bourbon Street was a five minute walk. Terry and Aaliyah entered the spacious hotel lobby. Aaliyah settled next to him at the receptionist desk while he checked them in. Two sleek, black key cards were given to him. They had a room on the third floor.

The hotel had a spooky element to it, reminding Aaliyah of something straight out of the 1800s. The red walls and old–time chandeliers made her feel as if she’d stepped into a Time Machine. They found their room and when they entered, Terry flicked on the lights. They had a king bed with a mirrored wall behind the bed and another full-body mirror near the entrance to the bathroom. There was a standing shower and a double sink as well as a balcony.

Terry checked the time and they had about ten minutes. Leaving the hotel for now, they walked hand in hand, Aaliyah making sure to bring her black clutch with her. After three minutes, they reached their destination. GW Fins was considered a fine dining establishment. Terry opened the door for Aaliyah and with her hand in his, they waltzed up to the hostess. Terry gave his last name and when he was found on the list, the hostess led them past several packed tables until they reached a private booth with candle light.

Settled, they stared at each other, legs touching and their mingled scents lingering. Terry caressed her knee and Aaliyah stroked his Rolex. A waiter sauntered over and filled their glasses with ice cold water. They were too busy eye–fucking each other to notice. The waiter cleared his throat and Terry pulled his gaze away slowly to look up at him. He ordered a Cabernet Sauvignon with carmelized onion tarts and lamb chop bruschetta.

“You look amazing.”

Aaliyah smiled into her glass of wine.

Terry peppered kisses along her neck. Shisha tobacco and intense Bourbon Vanilla flooded her nose from his Smoky cologne. His thumb caressed her knee softly and it had her clit pulsating with need. They ate their appetizers and got drunk off of the expensive wine. When their waiter came around again, Terry ordered their entrees. Some fancy seafood dish Aaliyah couldn’t recall the name of because she was too busy giggling.

“Here’s to more dates together in the near future,” Terry said.

They clinked glasses. Terry eyed her over the rim of his glass while Aaliyah gave him a slight smirk with those beautiful lips.

“Speaking of dates…maybe this is too soon…would you be my plus one to Mike’s wedding?”

Aaliyah blinked at Terry with slight shock.

“Really?” She questioned, not sure if she’d heard him correctly.

“Yeah. I want you to accompany me, Aaliyah.”

She took a sip of her wine.

“…you don’t think they’ll recognize me?”

“…from the bachelor party?”

“Yes…”

Terry’s right brow elevated and he shrugged, “I really don’t care what they think. You’re with me, not them.”

Aaliyah was too stunned by his remark.

“Okay. I’ll be your date.” She agreed.

Aaliyah simmered down her nervousness at being surround by the men that saw her half-naked and his parents who would surely find out that she’s an exotic dancer. Aaliyah drowned out her worries with another heaping glass of red wine. It finally warmed her blood. Her desire for the professor came on heavy and intense like those green eyes of his. Aaliyah propped her elbow on the table and combed her fingers through her hair while staring into his eyes.

Terry looked away and down at his glass while Aaliyah raised his chin for him to focus on her again.

“That drink isn’t going anywhere, Professor.”

She crossed one shapely leg over the other and his eyes were drawn there like a magnet.

“How long before you washed the scent of my pussy off your lips?”

It was the wine. The wine was making her bolder.

Terry scanned the area before responding. He gave her a look that shook her core. The faintest smirk painting his lips.

“As long as I could. But I knew I’d get a taste again.”

“You will…I plan to ride your face.”

Terry laughed. Aaliyah giggled softly before trailing her hand up his thigh and her heeled foot up his leg. Terry’s eyes fell to her heeled foot situated between his legs. With the tips of his fingers, he stroked the top of her exposed foot with a feather–like motion. Aaliyah nibbled on the rim of her glass.

“And I plan to fuck you all over that hotel room.”

That deep voice. That bass. Aaliyah was no more good. Fuck poised, she wanted to hop on that big dick.

“Everywhere, Aaliyah.”

“Good thing I’m on birth control.”

Terry laughed, eyes squinted and smile big and bright. What she really wanted to say was good thing they’re both clean and up to date on screenings like responsible adults because she’d much rather he cream pie her—

“You’re funny…”

“And you’re fine as hell…I can’t help the reckless shit that just comes out of my mouth.”

“You sound so cute when you curse.”

Their food arrived and it was a type of seafood linguine. Unable to finish the rest, Aaliyah slid her plate away and decided to take hers to go since there is a microwave in the hotel room. Terry raised a hand and motioned for the waiter to come over with a slice of chocolate cake and the check.

“The night is still young, think you can hang for a bit before we get back to the hotel?” Aaliyah questioned.

“I’m okay with that, baby. I think you should hit the restroom first after all that wine.” Terry suggested.

Good idea.

Aaliyah slipped away and to the bathroom.

——

Noisy. Raucous. Nocturnal. For many New Orleans visitors, Bourbon Street embodies the life of a party town. The street is lit by neon lights, throbbing with music and decorated by beads and balconies. Bourbon Street has become a place for revelry of all sorts. With its windows and doors flung open to the wandering crowds.

Aaliyah and Terry blended in with the crowd of drunk people. His tight clutch on her hand alerted anyone around them that she belonged to him and it would be best not to try anything. They decided on a bar that played trap music, both of them slipping inside. The red wine had begun to wear off and Terry needed something stiffer. Top shelf bourbon. Aaliyah wanted chilled patron shots. Terry paid cash and they enjoyed their drinks while vibing to the music.

Aaliyah would whine her hips on Terry, rubbing that big booty all over his growing erection. He grabbed her hips and did his own slow grind, catching the attention of patrons that watched with interest. Aaliyah loved to see the wild side of Terry. She made her ass move with quick skill whenever the DJ would put on a bounce mix.

They continued to bar hop, tripping off of people and drinking their fill. In one bar, Aaliyah made Terry her camera man. He recorded videos of her twerking and lifting her dress quickly to reveal nothing underneath. The risk thrilled her and Terry seemed to enjoy it as well. He stole every chance to bend her over a table or a bar so she could rock those hips on him.

Back out on the street, they accepted beads and Terry recorded Aaliyah walking towards him with a model–strut, flashing her titties and jiggling them. He couldn’t wait to suck on those big, brown nipples. Aaliyah complained of her feet hurting, so they stopped inside of a gift shop and Terry purchased a cheap pair of flip flops. He crouched down and took her heels off one–by–one. Terry held them as they walked back to the hotel.

Terry held the door open for Aaliyah and they stumbled over towards the elevators with laughter. On the elevator, Aaliyah pulled her dress down again and Terry pushed her against the wall and bent down to wrap his lips around a hard nipple. He sucked and Aaliyah palmed his erection. The elevator dinged and Terry fixed the front of her dress. He picked Aaliyah up and threw her over his shoulder while he opened the door. The green light flashed and he proceeded inside, placing the do not disturb sign on the outside of the door.

The distant sound of the lively French Quarter could be heard beyond the balcony. Terry flicked on all the lights. He needed that room to be fully bright. Aaliyah kicked off her flip flops. Terry proceed to take off his shirt. Aaliyah looked at him and the realization of what was about to happen washed over her face. She excused herself to the bathroom and Terry gave her space to get situated. Meanwhile, he completely undressed, sinewy body with vigorous muscles and a swole dick on full display.

The door to the restroom opened and Aaliyah walked out, stopping in her tracks when she noticed Terry standing before her fully naked. He approached her and started undressing her with his lips molding into hers. They swapped spit and flicked tongues as the dress slipped down her body and pooled around her feet.

Terry broke their searing kiss to press his forehead against her temple. He stared down at her perky breasts sitting full and round with protruding nipples.

“You’re all mine,” Terry whispered in her ear, his fingers twirling her nipples, “I’m gon’ show you…”

Those big lips of his sucked on her tongue and bottom lip. Aaliyah whimpered into his mouth and thrust her chest forward from Terry tugging on her nipples. The sensation shot straight to her clit.

“Liyah Allure? That’s who I’m getting tonight?”

She felt his dick bounce against her thigh. This man was concrete hard and ready to fuck.

“Yes, daddy…”

They flicked tongues and then Terry abruptly turned Aaliyah around. He arched her over the bed.

“Pop that wet puss…”

Terry’s hand came down on her ass and he gave it a sharp slap. Aaliyah hissed.

“Big ass butt…”

His rough tone stunned her.

Aaliyah grabbed her ankles and started moving that ass. Each time her cheeks spread Terry could see that sweet pink. He stroked himself as he watched her twerk. Aaliyah flipped her hair over and locked eyes with Terry, biting her bottom lip. She eyed the way the vein on the underside of his dick throbbed.

“Mhm, just like that. Do it like that, baby, fuck…”

His body is sculpted to the gods. The muscles in his thighs flexed in conjunction with his abs. Those biceps bulged and it caused the veins in his arms and hands to become more prominent. Honeyed skin so smooth. Heavy balls. Long, thick pipe. This man was on another level of fine.

Aaliyah made her ass clap again.

“I want you right now…”

Aaliyah felt his dick press between her cheeks. Terry brought one hand around to cup her jaw. The other hand reached down between her legs and started rubbing her clit.

“Ooo, Terry…”

He started stoking his dick between her cheeks.

“Big ol’ ass…shit don’t make no sense…pretty titties…you got it all…everything I fuckin’ need…”

“Take what you need…use me…”

“Ooo, use you?” Terry sank two fingers deep inside of her, “you sure you can handle it?”

“I can…can you handle this pussy?”

Terry chuckled, “What you think I’m doing now?”

Aaliyah’s knees buckled.

“…Miss Davenport, keep still…” Terry whispered his command.

“If I don’t?”

Terry shut her up with his thumb on her clit.

“I’ll cuff you.”

Terry’s fingers slipped out and he turned Aaliyah around to face him before thrusting the two fingers that were inside of her into her mouth. Terry gave her an unblinking stare while pushing further and further to the back of her throat. Aaliyah worried her brows and the urge to gag crept up her body.

“Mm–mm, eyes on me.”

She gagged.

“Open up…relax…relax…such a good girl…on your knees.”

Terry watched Aaliyah get on her knees on the bed. He wanted her arched so he could have access to her ass and pussy from the back. Aaliyah grabbed him by the balls and force–fed her throat big dick. Terry dragged his bottom lip into his mouth and hummed his approval.

Gawk gawk gawk gawk…

So rigid and unyielding.

“I knew you were the woman for me. Look how you suckin’ this dick, look…”

Aaliyah could see herself in the mirror on the wall behind the bed. Her body arched with her ass in the air and her lips wrapped around his dick aroused her.

“See that, pretty baby?”

Terry caressed her cheek with his knuckles. Aaliyah never took her eyes off of the mirror.

“Too fine…”

Terry popped her ass. Aaliyah jerked with one hand while sucking.

“Get the balls…mhmmmmm….so nastyyyy….”

Terry had Aaliyah leaking. The way he talked to her alone could make her cum.

Aaliyah popped her lips off, “Big Daddy…” she moaned.

She two–hand jerked him while looking up at him with doe eyes. Eyes that told him she needed him deep inside of her. Terry grunted on repeat, the urge to cum creeping up and up—

“I’M FINNA BUST—”

Aaliyah stuck her tongue out and Terry erupted all over her lips and in her mouth.

With urgency, Terry went to lay down on his back with his head hanging over the end of the bed. He forced Aaliyah to grind on his face. She put her hands on her knees and rolled her hips over his face. Terry sucked, licked, and kissed. He reached up to hold her in place, stilling her movements while he worked his lips and tongue In tandem to make her cum. Aaliyah clung onto her weak knees and her entire body shook.

“TERRRRRYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!”

He didn’t stop. Aaliyah didn’t know whether to crawl away from his lethal mouth or stay still. This man knew her body better than any man she’d been with.

“Umph,” Aaliyah whimpered, “You’re making me cum…I’m cumming again…whew, fuck…oh shit!”

Terry gripped her waist to keep her on his face. Aaliyah intertwined her fingers with his while riding out her orgasm. When the tremble in her legs surpassed, Terry came to the surface with a moist face. Aaliyah lunged at him and Terry caught her, lifting her up.

He curled one arm beneath her left knee and with his other hand he rubbed the tip of his dick between her folds.

“Let me hear that sound I like…mmm…so wet…I love it messy, baby…enough for me to slide right in you…”

Aaliyah had never been fucked in this position. She was a little afraid. Terry sensed her nervousness and peppered kissed along her neck.

“Terry, it’s big…”

Aaliyah held onto him tightly. Heart pounding against his chest. He tried to settle her with a deep kiss. With the perfect distraction, Terry was finally able to feel her snug walls around his dick.

He pushed up into her and Aaliyah’s mouth dropped open. A desperate moan against his lips with her nails digging into the skin of his shoulders was her initial reaction. That pussy, however, needed to be opened up.

——

“Relax for me, Aaliyah…where’s that big girl energy?”

Terry dropped her down and Aaliyah almost cut off his circulation with how much she squeezed him. Both arms curled beneath her knees now, Terry turned sideways in the full–length mirror and pounded up into her while bringing her down to meet his thrusts.

Aaliyah buried her face into his neck. Terry started off slow. He watched the way his dick disappeared then reappeared. Astonished wasn’t even the word.

“Look, baby…”

Aaliyah didn’t have the strength to look. She was buried with big dick and it was grazing her spot.

“I know, I know…”

Terry quickened his pace. Aaliyah could feel everything.

“Oh my god…” she whispered.

Terry palmed her ass and thrust up into her while keeping her stationary. Aaliyah’s toes curled under and she felt herself slipping. Terry crouched slightly to hike her up.

Aaliyah stares into his eyes while clinging onto him.

“Aaliyah…I’m going faster…you ready?”

Terry started pounding and Aaliyah cried out.

“Fuck…you gotta keep still…fuck this pussy is so good…been waitin’ to get in this pussy…”

“Uhm!!!! SHIT!”

She couldn’t believe how wet she was.

She couldn’t believe she was going to squ—

Terry was forced out from the sudden release of liquid. He slapped her clit to release more and then he rubbed it back and forth. His dick had a mixture of cream and wetness all over it.

Placing her on the bed, Terry arched Aaliyah’s back.

“With the way you put that ass in the air…you know how I want you.”

Aaliyah looked back at Terry. He looked her in the eyes and smirked at her. He sank right inside of her from behind. Terry caressed her ass and smoothed his hands down her back. Aaliyah wouldn’t keep still.

“What did I say? If you move, I cuff you…”

He’d been waiting to get up in her and put that dick on her something serious and she couldn’t follow directions? Terry was irritated. He slipped out and went to grab the cuffs. Aaliyah watched him return and secure her wrists.

“Can’t run now…I told you I’m getting in this pussy…”

He thrust in and Aaliyah could feel him in her belly.

“Big ass dick!”

“This big dick got you creamy, baby…”

Aaliyah’s muffled cries into the sheets were drowned out by the incessant clapping her ass was doing. Terry put a power behind his strokes that had her feeling it from the tippy–tip to the base. Direct thrusts and keeping the same stroke. This man went from lecturing her about the evolution of morality to talking her through it.

"Look at me while I fucking use you."

The sex was too good. Sex so good Aaliyah’s flustered and embarrassed from all the incoherent nonsense she was mumbling. Quite literally, she can't stop herself from burying her face in the pillow to hide how much she’s blushing and moaning.

Terry has her trapped with an iron hand.

She can’t focus on watching herself getting fucked. But Terry had other plans.

He grabbed Aaliyah buy the cuffs with one hand and his other hand wrapped around her throat from the front.

“I said watch the way I fuckin’ use you.” He barked out.

She could see the way her ass moved like a tidal wave. Terry trapped her with his eyes and as tears rolled down hers from how good and intense it felt he didn’t stop. He stayed on her spot.

“Shit yankin’ this dick…this good pussy and you think I’m not gon’ fuck you the way you deserve?”

Terry pressed his face against her ear and went…harder.

The clapping echoed.

He pressed his face into her hair and groaned when Aaliyah’s walls convulsed around him. She erupted so intensely that she had no control over her body. Terry took off the cuffs and massaged her wrists while kissing her temple.

Aaliyah gasped when he slipped out.

She couldn’t believe it. He was still HARD.

Terry went to lay on his back and he pulled Aaliyah close. She rested her head against his shoulder while He stroked her arm.

“Did you like it when I cuffed you?” Terry asked.

“I did. I liked it more than I thought I would.” Aaliyah smiled.

“Aaliyah…”

She looked up at him. Terry met her gaze.

“I really like you…and I want to take you on more dates and be serious about courting you. Is that okay?”

“…I really like you too, Professor. We can’t go public with this…At least not yet.”

“Definitely. You don’t have much longer to graduate, only a little less than two months…”

“I’d love to go on more dates with you and get to know you more…”

Aaliyah traced Terry’s nipple. With her cheeks pressed against his chest, she stared down at that beautiful dick.

“Are you tired yet?” Aaliyah questioned.

She sat up to stare down at him.

“I want you to fuck me more…”

“How you want it this time?”

Aaliyah trailed her hand down to grip him.

“I want my legs over your shoulders…I’m used to this dick now. I like the way it kisses the back of my pussy. Makes me cum each and every time…think you can do that for me?”

Terry sat up and Aaliyah crawled beneath him. He situated himself above her, holding himself up in a push–up position.

“We didn’t use a condom…”

Aaliyah realized that.

“If I cum in you…” Terry warned.

“Then paint me….”

Aaliyah brought her ankles over Terry’s shoulders. He lined himself up and with his eyes never leaving hers, he pushed deeper, her pussy enveloping him again. Aaliyah’s eyes shut and she extended her neck, releasing a longing sigh of joy.

“Yes…yesssss…yeeeesssssssahhhh…”

She loved it. Terry put his fists into the bed and went faster. They both watched his dick bury her over and over.

“Damn, Aaliyah…shit so…fuckin’…good…”

He punctuated his thrusts with his words.

Terry gave her nipples some more attention with his teeth and lips while his hips snapped into hers. The more he fucked, the more his big dick glided.

“Gettin’ that dick in you nice and easy now…this what I like…and you thought I wouldn’t fit…look at you now…taking it all…”

“Yea, Big Daddy, I love this dick,” Aaliyah moaned

They kissed. A deep kiss that had Terry’s hips coming to a complete stop. He was still deep inside of her, but those lips were a distraction. Terry’s lips slipped away and Aaliyah got lost in his green eyes while he fucked her. She nibbled on her lip and studied the way his handsome face crumbled with defeat.

“You wanna cum? Cum all over me with that big dick…”

“Ughhh–uhhhh–mmmmm—”

Faster.

“D–don’t st–top! Fuck your p–pussy!!!!”

“Aaliyah!”

Terry pulled out and pumped, thick, milky–white cum that painted her pussy lips, stomach, and titties.

“Mmm,” Aaliyah gathered some on her fingers and dragged it over her tongue while looking him in the eyes.

“Nasty girl…”

Aaliyah smiled at him before bringing her feet down to rest on his chest. Terry grabbed her feet and kissed her insteps, causing her to giggle.

He couldn’t wait to give her more dick.

@theereina @bombshellbre95 @planetblaque @trippyscotch @megamindsecretlair @uzumaki-rebellion @thesweetestdrug @theblulife @hotgrlcece @blackerthings @deja-r @helloncrocs @hearteyes-for-killmonger @kaylabuggggg06 @skyesthebomb @blyffe @gwenda-fav @beenathembo @blackpinup22 @novaniskye @melaninhawtie @urfavblackbimbo @avoidthings @rose-bliss @xo-goldengirl @kinginwithbreezy-blog @mysecertdiaryofableedingheart @sirenmouths @creartivefairy @soulfulbeauty19 @therealmrsrhodes @hrlzy @nayaesworld @gg-trini @brattyfics @flydotty @writingsbytee @shiania @browngirldominion @notapradagurl7 @madamzola @kismet83 @aristasworld @sl33p-deprived-princess @erynnnn @itssbrie @melaninangel @withoutmusiclifewouldbflat @sweettea-and-honeybutter @dashhoney25

#aaron pierre x black!oc #aaron pierre #nahimjustfeelingit-writes #rebel ridge #terry richmond #SoundCloud

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mellosdrawings · 9 months ago

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The Princes

Ten years later. When marrying a Prince turns a Queen and a Servant into actual Royalties.

Because Vil deserves a real crown and Jamil deserves to be treated better.

NOW I'M GONNA RANT ABOUT MY CHARA DESIGNS CHOICES AND ALL THE DISCOVERIES I MADE WHILE LOOKING FOR REFS! If you only care about art and funny doodles, you can scroll down for a handful of slices of life.

(Don't worry if you can't read my notes, I'm repeating myself better right under this)

Leona

-Lion: As you may know, one of my grievances with Leona is how his hair doesn't look like an actual mane despite being a lion. While I don't want to stray too far from the canon design with the usual drawings, that's the occasion for me to have some fun with a future version. Give that lion a beard and voluminous hair!

-Hair: First, get those bangs out of his face. Despite Leona being very confident, he still has bangs covering his scarred eye. I wanted him to finally own the aspects of him that may be scary to others (his UM, his scar, etc). I actually went with bangs framing his face similar to the ones he had during his Overblot. I wasn't sure whether to give him dreadlocks or curly hair, but I ended up choosing the free curls decorated with some atebas and braids so that Vil could have more fun styling them.

-Eye: Thanks @aria-faye for the idea, I decided to have his eye gradually lose its capacities with time. From a headcanon that, while the eye wasn't directly touched by whatever attack scarred him, the process of healing still had an impact on it and he gradually lost sight in his left eye years after years.

-Body: Not giving him a dad bod (yet, maybe in another ten years), but definitely giving him more voluminous yet casual muscles. Practical muscles with a healthy dose of fat and tissues. Also giving him two full sleeves of tattoos because I decided he should have much more than just his lion tattoo.

-Clothes: Went full Maasai dressing and Kenyan fabrics and beadworks. If you're not familiar with it, please go check it out, it's GORGEOUS!! Crown is beadwork too. He also has one Arabic styled foot jewellery.

Jamil

-Hair: My first order was to remove his double-faced hairstyle and also remove his bangs from his eye. Make him confident enough to show his whole face. Unlike Leona and Vil, he doesn't really want a crown though (he still feels weird about becoming royalty) so instead he uses a braid as crown. Also gave him a little goatee because I like facial hair and Jafar has a beard too.

-Body: He grew up! While he didn't quite catch up with Leona and Vil, he is now closer to their sizes than before, sitting at around 180cm. He kept his breakdancer/martial artist lean muscles but developed a bit of shoulders.

-Clothes: Went full Arabic dressing and fabrics (once more, go check the fabrics, they are pieces of arts). I gave him floral motifs instead of his usual fire/snake motifs (though he does have a snake earring and a fangs necklace) to symbolise his rebirth/blooming. Like Leona, he has one piece of jewellery that is beadwork.

Vil

-Hair: Here it was a bit tricky. Considering Vil's work, he likely changes hairstyles a lot, going from long to short for his roles instead of his wants. So I leaned into the little things he could add to his hair despite their constant changes, mostly jewelleries, beadworks and wool decorations he stole from his husbands. He also cares a bit less about them looking perfect and is allowing himself to be more natural. He doesn't have any facial hair (yet), keeping a youthful appearance for as long as he can. In another ten years though, he might start looking more and more like his father, beard included.

-Clothes: For Leona and Jamil's mental states, the three of them most likely started living in Sunset Savanna so they wouldn't freeze to death. Vil is well traveled so he can handle most temperatures without trouble, and he is used to dressing up in the local get ups. Here I decided to give him both African dress and Arabic fabric, and likewise both beadwork and golden jewellery. I gave him crown and heart motifs so he can keep being himself despite borrowing a lot from his husbands.

There, I'm done rambling. Here's some doodles, followed by some random headcanons.

-Vil does his husbands hair every morning and keeps giving them more and more intricate hairstyles. He developed a whole haircare and beard-care products set for them.

-When Vil is away for a movie, Jamil keeps his hair mostly down save for a few accessories.

-Jamil and Falena get along surprisingly well (to Leona's despair). Vil gets along very well with Falena's wife.

-Jamil acts as a Scalding Sands ambassador and still is the one to care for Kalim when he comes to visit, though this time he's doing it because he wants to and not because he has to.

-Vil got used to his new title immediately but Jamil struggles with it a lot. He still has a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that he is no longer a servant.

-The servants at the palace love Jamil because he always makes their job easier.

-Leona finally decided to put his wits to good use and became Falena's advisor. He still fights a lot with Kifaji about the direction to take with the country, but he managed to make some of his ideas heard to help with the staggering inequalities in the country.

That's all for now!

#so... that's officially my longest piece to date #this one took me nearly 10 hours #and I'm considering doing a colored version because Arabic and Kenyan fabrics are so beautiful I swear #won't happen in a while tho #mello's drawings #n2 squad #jamil viper #leona kingscholar #vil schoenheit #javil #leojami #leovil #twisted wonderland #twst #art #my art #analysis #Future!N2

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shy-writer-999 · 3 months ago

Text

1-800-LONELYCHEF . ₊ ⊹ .

Summary: The same man calls you every Friday at 11:30PM. It seems like he has nothing better to do. After months of the same routine, you've started to take a liking to him, which is a problem, considering that he's your client... and you work at a phone sex hot line. WC: ~7k. CW: NSFW content! ANGSTY! Afab reader w/gendered language (she/her pronouns). Masturbation, oral sex. MDNI plz!

“Hello?”

You’re very familiar with the caller on the other end of the line. He calls you once a week—every Friday, after his shift at the bougie restaurant he works at, 11:30PM on the dot.

He must be very attractive, or at least that’s what you’ve garnered over talking to him for many months.

At first, he was evidently too shy to make use of your more… explicit services. This is a phone sex hotline, after all.

He honestly sounded like he just needed someone to vent to. So, you listened, as was your job. After the first few months, you both got more accustomed to one another. His shyness melted away. He got friendlier.

It’s been six or seven months since he first called. You’ve become very fond of him, but you have no idea what he looks like. So, one day, you decide to ask.

“Your voice is so sexy,” you start, giving him a line that you gave everyone, except this time you mean it. “I can’t help but wonder what you look like, Sanji.”

With other callers, you’d have to check what their name is before you say it. But you’re far past that point with him, and every time you say his name it makes his heart flutter.

“Well,” he says. “I’m blonde. And my eyebrows have a little… curl to them. I’m a decent height and I have a bit of a goatee.”

“And what color are your eyes?” You ask, trying to get the full picture.

He notes that question. It’s a thoughtful one. You’re thoughtful, in general. He knows that you are just being nice to him because, well, it’s your job, but also… he can’t shake the feeling that you have a soft spot for him. Do you talk to everyone like this?

“My eyes? Hmm. It depends on who you ask. I don’t know, really. Some people say they’re black, other people say grey, I’ve had a few tell me they’re blue. I’m not sure.”

You hum in response. There’s a beat of silence.

“What sort of eyes do you like?” He asks. He’s cheeky like that. You have the feeling that he has a real soft spot for you, too. Why else would he call you every week? There are plenty of others he could call. But he just sticks with you every time.

You respond. “It depends on who you ask. But historically I have liked guys with black, grey, or blue eyes. Do you happen to know anyone who fits the bill?”

He can tell that you’re smiling. He finds himself blushing, getting giddy for a few moments before he realizes that oh, right, you are at work, and oh, right, he is paying you to talk to him, like the loser he is.

His voice falters a bit the next time he speaks, a couple of seconds later. You know the exact thought that just went through his head. It’s something you are well aware of but… it does make you a bit sad with him. You like him far too much for your own good.

You wonder if you would like the look of him in real life, painfully single as you are. You wonder if he would like the look of you.

You might have a teeny tiny crush on this guy you’ve never met. Teeny tiny is a massive understatement. Just because he’s so consistent—you’ve never met a man as consistent as him—and so kind, and such a gentleman, even on the phone.

But tonight, the call ends earlier than usual. It seems that your open flirtation was a bit too genuine for him. Hit a bit too close to home. He finishes the conversation and dodges your attempt to take it farther.

“Thank you as always, beautiful. It’s a pleasure to talk to you. See you next week.” The phone hangs up abruptly. He’s gone now.

He always calls you beautiful, like everyone else does, but… it just means something coming from him. Maybe because he’s the only caller who has ever wanted to truly know something about you. And every time he hangs up, he says ‘see you next week,’ even though you never see each other. It’s cute.

You find yourself wishing he was still on the line. You’re a bit bummed that he hung up this early, not because you’re going to be left wanting for money (he always overpays), but because you always look forward to talking to him.

When you take the next caller, you’re quickly reminded that Sanji is by far the youngest and kindest of anyone who has ever called you.

---

“Hello?”

He’s on the line again. It’s Friday again, 11:30PM sharp.

You respond, tone warmer than it needs to be, given that you’re speaking to a client. “Hi.”

You’re glad to talk to him. Very realistically, this is the only interesting thing you have to look forward to—it’s not like you can afford to go out and party on the weekends. Or any day, for that matter. He’s your Friday night date every week. That doesn’t escape him.

“How was your week?” He asks, like he always does. He’s the only client who has ever asked you that.

You respond as frankly as you can without overstepping. “Hmmm. It was alright. Pretty boring, in general. It could have been better. How was your week?”

He pauses for a moment. “It was pretty good.”

“Tell me about it.” You prompt, and he begins detailing his week for you, as is your routine.

The things you know about this man’s life are random and vast, among them, you know that he lives in the city next to yours, he eats oats every morning for breakfast, and that he chain smokes as often as he can get away with (which is almost 24/7). You’ve been privy to him trying to cut back on his nicotine intake more than a few times, and he has never forgotten that you cheer him on every time he tries.

Among other things, this week he had to go to work on his usual day off (Wednesday) because the sous-chef called out (again). You can hear him roll his eyes when he says that. You roll them too, even though he can’t see.

He vents about that, and you hear him out.

“The sous-chef sounds like a real asshole,” you say. “Always has. Didn’t he call out a couple weeks ago?”

He laughs out loud at your honesty. “I fucking know, right? And yes, he did. It’s ridiculous.” Then his heart skips a beat. You really do pay attention to what he says.

“They don’t appreciate you as much as they should, Sanji. I bet I could talk some sense into them.” You say, and you both chuckle for a moment.

“What else happened this week?” You follow up, genuinely wanting to know. This man fascinates you. With how charming and sweet he is, it’s a wonder to you that he’s single. Also, the life he lives is quaint. He is a man of routine, a hard worker, and he’s driven. He has a strong and warm personality.

When he replies to your question, you can’t quite make out the tone of his voice—is that reluctance? Hesitation? Shyness? Or awkwardness? It’s hard to tell.

He responds to your question. “Well… I went on a date last night.”

Before you can wonder why, your heart starts to sink. Fuck. You really do have a crush on this guy, don’t you?

You regrettably (internally) acknowledge your disappointment. You do have a massive crush on this guy. And he’s your client. So, get a grip.

Your acting skills have to be excellent for this job. You make good use of them now. “Oh, a date?” You emanate the pinnacle of excitement for him. “How was it?”

This has happened maybe half a dozen times before. The dates always go well but the follow through rate is bad. Obviously. Or else he wouldn’t be here. But every time it has happened, your heart always sinks. Not a fun feeling.

“It went really, really well.” Sanji’s voice is happy. “Might have been the best date I’ve ever been on.” You know he’s smiling right now. Positively beaming. Your heart breaks a bit before you reprimand yourself. You have no right to like this man the way that you do.

He probably wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot-pole if he met you in real life (you tell yourself this, and you know it is a lie, but you try to say it to make yourself get a grip… needless to say, this strategy doesn’t work.)

“How was she?” You ask because you know he wants to talk about it.

“She was thoughtful, kind, and considerate. Very sweet. Kind of like you, actually.” He says, not realizing how much those words make your smile fall. “One of the cooks set us up. Like a blind date. I had no idea what to expect but she was gorgeous. Wow. So funny, too.”

His voice trails off. It’s your turn to talk.

“Awh, Sanji, I’m so glad. You deserve some attention.” Your voice is sugar coated like usual and his heart patters.

The conversation wanders into various topics. The woman he went on a date with is a veterinarian. That sours your mood. She must be real swell. Caring for sick animals and all that stuff. Ugh. The whole topic is forcing you to accept the fact that you like this guy wayyyy more than you should. You have no business having this intense of a crush on him, having this intense of a crush on a man who is, ostensibly, and for all intents and purposes, using you as his rent-a-girlfriend.

The pair of you then talk about relationships—has he ever been in one? (Yes, ages ago.) What is his love language? (Physical touch and acts of service.) What’s his type? (Essentially, you.) You ask him questions and he asks you them back. It’s a nice conversation, an intimate one, one that would have you feeling better if not for the fact that he just happened to have an amazing date.

After a while, the conversation dwindles. You know that he’s in the mood to do what this whole thing is really about—phone sex. When Sanji is in a really good mood or a really bad mood, he takes advantage of your expertise in this area. Tonight is the former.

“Is there anything else on your mind, handsome?” You ask, gauging what he’s up to tonight.

“Mmmm, there is. What are you wearing, gorgeous?”

You smile. He’s cute. Usually, you lie when men ask you this question. But with Sanji you tend to be a bit more truthful. Maybe it’s the fact that you feel like he’s going to get taken off the market soon and never call you again one day, or maybe it’s something else, but you’re getting the urge to be more candid and flirtier with him than you’ve ever been before. Real flirty, not work flirty. You’re getting the urge to step out of whatever character you put on when you pick up the phone.

“Do you want the regular client answer, or the Sanji answer?” You say, bold and not giving a fuck. Why not? He can have the real answer, hell, he can have some realness because you’ve talked for so long, and because you like him so much. Like you said, he deserves some attention.

“Oh. How about both?” He’s tickled and intrigued. “I’m flattered that I have my own option.”

“You always do. Well, the regular client answer would be that I’m wearing a babydoll slip dress made of black mesh… with a black lace thong and thigh-high black stockings. Do you like that?” Your voice starts to transform; it starts to drip pure lust, candied in honey and flattery. It’s a well-trained skill. Sanji gets hard almost immediately, tenting his pants and widening his thighs.

“I like it very much.” His voice is getting huskier, thicker. You love it when he sounds like that. His voice really is sexy. He continues. “Now, tell me the Sanji answer.”

“It isn’t nearly as glamorous. Do you still want to know?”

He nods, but it’s not like you can see him. “Of course.”

“I’m wearing a black tank top and blue plaid sweatpants. No bra, but I actually am wearing a black lace thong.” You laugh. “Very sexy, right?”

His voice comes out raspier this time. “It is, though. I much prefer the Sanji answer.”

“You’re sweet.” You say, and he can tell you mean it. “Now, what are you wearing?”

Sanji blushes and his erection strains against the fabric of his boxers. “Do you want the regular client answer, or the You answer?”

You laugh again. “How about both?”

“Well,” he continues. “The regular client answer is that I’m in black slacks and a white button down. A few buttons are undone and my sleeves are rolled up to my forearms. I’m wearing black loafers and black socks. Now, the You answer isn’t nearly as glamorous. Do you still want to know?”

“Mhm.”

“I don’t have a shirt on and I am coincidentally wearing blue plaid sweatpants as well. Can you believe that?”

“No way. Really?”

“Yep.”

“Anything underneath?” Your voice is coy and his erection pulses.

“Yep. I have boxers on. Boring black ones.”

“And what’s going on underneath of those?”

He dryly chuckles and reaches down to rub his hard on for a second. “A lot.”

“Just what I wanted to hear.” You practically purr and he runs his palm over his bulge in response.

He lets out a soft groan that make you feel some sort of way. “Oh yeah? Y’know, even though I don’t really know what you look like, I just know that you’re looking sexy in your pajama outfit right now.”

Your witty reply is stopped short. He’s the only one who is this real with you. Most of the men on the other line tend to be creepy, old, and just downright weird. This is a dying profession, after all. Sometimes the other clients are rude and dismissive, too. But Sanji… you know he really means what he says.

“You’re adorable, Sanji,” you say. “I’d venture a guess that you look pretty good right now, too.”

“Mmmm.” He hums, heartbeat rising as he continues to palm himself. “I wish I could see you right now.”

You can’t tell if this is part of the fantasy. You really did wish you could see him, though.

“What would you do to me…” your voice is smooth as silk. “If I peeled off my tanktop and shimmied out of my sweatpants?”

Sanji’s breath hitches. Something feels realer than usual about this—knowing what you’re wearing right now, what you’re really wearing, is turning him on beyond belief (assuming that you’re telling the truth, but he always chooses to believe that you are).

“If I was there, I’d kiss you, actually.”

His answer catches you off guard. You’re not sure he’s said something like this before.

There is silence for a second. You don’t know how to respond, really. You decide to just respond honestly, without appearances. Fuck it. He’d probably be off the market soon if his amazing date was anything to tell for it, so might as well.

“Wow, that’s really sweet. I’m not sure anyone has said something that nice to me in years.”

He tuts. “That’s my lowest bar of sweetness. I can go much sweeter than that, my love.”

He’s never called you that before, either. You’re starting to forget that this is a work call. It feels distinctly different than one.

“I’d like to see how sweet you can get, Sanji.”

His cock twitches again. Fuck. You really have a way with words. You get him more riled up than anyone he’s ever met before.

You continue. “After you kiss me, what would you do to me?”

“I would kiss every inch of you.”

Your heart melts. Fuck. Is this guy a saint? Where does he get off being so suave?

“Mmmm. That sounds nice. I’d like to return the favor.” Your tone, to Sanji, is effortlessly erotic. The thought of you kissing every inch of him—yes, even those inches—has him grinding the palm of his hand over his cock.

“Sounds even better. Then, if you let me, I’d go down on you.” The blonde is starting to get worked up. You can tell from his voice—when it gets all husky like this, you know he’s about to start touching himself, if he isn’t already.

Also, the fact that he said ‘if you let me’ really struck you. No one had ever said that before in your line of work. He has the tendency to say things you’ve never heard before, and he always surprises you.

“Of course I’d let you go down on me,” your voice gets softer. “What exactly would you do?” You wonder if he’d be any good. Maybe his answer will be elucidative.

“I’d start by kissing up your thighs, one at a time. Then I’d very slowly, very gently kiss your clit. Hopefully it would feel good. After a while, I think I’d be able to tell if you liked it. I’d run my tongue downwards and taste you. And tease you as much as you’re willing to put up with.”

“Mmmm. I think I could put up with a lot.” You let out a breathy sigh. You’re starting to warm up between the legs. With that voice, and those words, and that mental image… it sounds divine. You’re about to let yourself get carried away. It’s tempting.

“Is that so?” Sanji decides to keep going with the fantasy as long as you’d let him. Frequently, this happens the other way around. You usually describe to him, in great detail, what you would do to him. Apparently tonight it would be the other way around.

“In that case,” Sanji continues, “I’d take my time with you. I’d push my tongue inside of you delicately at first, then harder, and switch between that and licking your clit.”

You can feel that you’re getting wet. It has only ever been with Sanji that you’ve actually gotten aroused while talking to a client. Usually, you’re as dry as the Sahara when talking to clients. But this man does things to you. Sinful things.

“What else?” You ask, biting your lip and sneaking your hand lower. You decide that, just this once, it’s okay to get carried away.

He can hear it in your voice. The synthetic, sugary (but still very much erotic) tone is dissipating and he’s hearing, for the first time, your voice bathed in genuine arousal. Your breaths are quicker than usual, your tone is less composed, and he can tell that you’re hanging onto his every word.

At the same time that his hand goes under the waistband of his boxers, yours goes under your underwear. He starts to stroke himself, relishing the first ripples of pleasure from his hand, and you do something similar. Each movement of your fingers is accompanied by his voice, by some filthy image he puts in your head.

“When you’re moaning loud enough, I’d press my middle finger into you slowly, to make sure you’re comfortable. After a moment, I’d move my finger and caress you inside a bit, and if it seemed like you liked it, I would press my ring finger into you.”

You start to mimic what Sanji is describing. It feels dangerously good. A barely audible sort of gasping sound falls out of your lips and Sanji hears it. His fist goes faster. He hasn’t ever heard you make that sort of noise before—he’s heard fake moans, sure, they were still hot (and he always told himself they were real). Anything you did was hot. But this sort of noise was the sort that could only be caused by one thing—pleasure.

Sanji’s fist goes a bit faster when he concludes that you may be touching yourself. The idea makes him feel like he’s on fire.

“I’d curl my fingers inside of you and find your g-spot… draw circles around it and press it while I place some kisses on your clit. Would you like that?”

His question catches you off guard—you’re getting lost in the act of fingering yourself.

“Mmmm. I would like that, Sanji.”

“How would I know that you liked it?”

“I’d, fuck,” another soft moan slips out of your lips and Sanji squeezes his cock tighter. “I’d run my fingers through your hair and pull you closer. Buck my hips into your tongue so you, ah, get deeper.”

“What would you say?” His voice is low now, and you can hear a faint sound in the background. He’s fisting his cock to your conversation, which is nothing new, but it brings you more of a rush than usual right now because you’re touching yourself too. “What would you say if you liked how I ate you out?”

“Don’t stop,” you shudder, and it sounds like it would if he was actually eating you out. The noise makes his heart flip. He can hear wet sounds from your end of the phone, too. He can hardly believe his ears, but sure enough, he can make out the noises of you bringing your fingers in and out of yourself.

“I wouldn’t,” Sanji says and then groans. The obscene noise goes straight to your aching core. You’re going to orgasm soon. “I wouldn’t stop until you came all over my face and I licked you clean.”

“Fuck,” you mewl. “That sounds, ah, sounds like it would feel good, Sanji.”

“Does it feel good?” He counters, twisting his hand over the head of his cock. His fist brings down the precum that has been beading at his tip, and the sensation makes his hips rock up inadvertently.

“Mmmmphhh, I—yes, it feels good, Sanji. Feels so good.”

You curl your fingers inside, searching for the spot that Sanji mentioned before. You press on it as you speak. You know he’s going to love the noise you make.

He grunts and throws his head back. He’s going to cum soon. He’s going to cum if you say his name some more. He wants it. “Say that again.”

“Fucckkk, Sanji. Feels so good.”

“I love hearing you say my name. I’m—hah—‘m gonna cum if you do it again.”

“Sanji. Sanji. Sanji, fuck, Saannnjjjiii.” On repeat, you moan his name through your orgasm, which you finally allow to wash over you. He can hear it in your voice, can hear you trying to force his name out of your mouth between keens.

Your voice has never sounded so good. He’s sure now, sure sure, that you’ve been touching yourself this whole time and that you just came. It’s a first for him. He’s suspected your arousal at other times, but this time, it’s a confirmed fact. In an instant, the fantasy fades and he can see the moment for what it is—you’ve thrown away the pretenses, acting skills, and flattery, and, for a handful of minutes, you’ve been 100% yourself with him, more so than ever before.

That’s what makes him cum. Your unreserved sincerity and desire. It’s the hardest he’s cum in a long time—and that’s a high bar, considering the fact that any time he broaches these activities with you he cums hard.

When you’re both panting in the euphoric aftershocks of your orgasms, Sanji whistles. “Damn.”

You hum in agreement. “Wow.”

He cracks a joke. “So, am I supposed to send you an invoice after this one?”

He’s hilarious in general, and this one makes you laugh. “I might allow it.” Your tone is uncharacteristically bashful. You’re about to say something you’ll later regret. “I think you’re the only person who has ever gotten me off over the phone.”

Sanji is taken aback for a second. “Really? I’m honored. And surprised.”

You almost instantly wish you didn't overshare, chuckling awkwardly before you realize that this is a work call, and you should act accordingly. But it’s hard to pull yourself out of the intimacy of this moment and you don’t want to. So… against your better judgment, you don’t.

“I’m impressed, Sanji. Maybe we should do this more often,” you say, and Sanji’s heart thumps again. “You don’t have to only call me once a week, you know.”

“As long as you won’t get sick of me, I would love to. And we can do this again any time, gorgeous. It’s seriously my pleasure. You don’t know what you do to me, it’s only fair that I return the favor.”

While he’s saying the last part, Sanji realizes that this isn’t a favor, really. He tries to brush off that sad feeling for a moment but finds himself wondering what you really think of him.

It’s time for him to go to sleep, he concludes. He’s exhausted after a long shift and a hard orgasm.

“So, same time next week?” His voice is chipper.

“Mhm. I look forward to it, Sanji. See you later.” When the words leave your mouth, you wonder if he feels butterflies, too.

“See you later, sweetheart.”

Sanji hangs up the phone.

In your respective bedrooms, you’re both wondering what the fuck just happened. This call was full of lots of firsts and, little do you two know, the other feels elated.

But Sanji thinks about it more. He weighs his feelings for you against the practical understanding that he is, presumably, nothing more than a client to you. His heart aches at the thought.

And then he looks at his phone. The person who he went on a date with texted him while he was on the phone with you—she’s asking for another date. She says she looks forward to seeing him.

---

A week passes.

It’s Friday again.

11:30PM comes and goes. No call from Sanji.

In a span of over six months, this is the first time he hasn’t called you.

As you sit and wait for him, passing off other phone calls in case he decides he wants to speak to you tonight, your heart starts to sink.

Was last time a mistake?

Ten minutes go by.

Twenty minutes go by.

Many minutes go by. The time is now 12:30AM.

You’re left to conclude that last time was, indeed, a mistake.

You decide to take the night off. Your tears are making it hard to get any work done. You can’t put on that sultry voice and moan at old men in your current state.

There’s no denying it—his absence hurts you. Bad. Especially after last week. Especially after you admitted to him that you had never orgasmed over the phone before, and that you wanted to talk to him more often.

Why hadn’t he called you?

You wrack your brain for possibilities, but one major thing stands out. That date he went on. Maybe he went on another one and decided he liked them better.

Liked them better? You ask yourself after realizing what you just thought. He’s paying you to talk to him on the phone. Get over it. He isn’t going to keep calling you forever. What did you expect after last week? That he would just confess his love, offer to pay all of your bills, and that would be it?

You frown harder, hurting yourself deeper with your own rhetoric. The tears won’t stop.

It’s excruciating to realize that you like Sanji this much. You really like him. You know almost everything there is to know about him, too. And as much as you generally try to avoid giving out personal information, he knows a large chunk about you. Maybe that’s why it hurts so bad.

No, you tell yourself. Don’t kid yourself. You know it hurts this bad because you were hoping he liked you for real. You were hoping that this man, who you had never truly met before, who you had never seen, would, against all odds, decide that he wants you, even if he hadn’t seen you.

Fat chance, you tell yourself. Never do that with a client again, and this will never be a problem again.

---

Sanji does not call you back the next week.

Or the next week.

Or the week after that.

Or the month after that.

You are over it by the time the second month rolls around.

It’s pretty good timing, on your behalf. You think you’re really over this huge crush on a man you’ve never seen before. By the fifth month, you’re still telling yourself that you’re over this “crush”.

But that’s a delusion—any time you’re in public and there’s a blonde man, you find yourself scanning his face. Does he have a goatee? Could those eyebrows be considered curly? What color are those eyes?

When you see one that you think might be him, you always work up the courage to speak to them. But it never is Sanji. You would recognize that voice anywhere.

You wonder what you will say to him if he ever calls you again. Or if you see him in person. You decide that if he ever calls you again, you’ll either curse him out or break into tears.

In your most down-bad-hour, you contemplate showing up at the restaurant he is the chef at. You contemplate asking if you can see the kitchen. You just want a glance at him. A glance will keep your heart quiet.

But the joke’s on you—his restaurant is too expensive for you. Truly. You couldn’t afford a drink there if you tried. Okay, maybe just one. But you refuse to stoop to that level of desperation.

You’re a call away from him. He just has to dial your number.

You, on the other hand, have no way of calling or texting him. The service you work through scrambles client numbers before they’re patched through to you. The only way you know it’s Sanji is when he calls, at 11:30PM on the dot, on Friday nights. That’s Sanji time.

But it seems like Sanji time has come and gone.

You can’t shake the feeling that he did you dirty—but then you remember that he doesn’t owe you anything. This is your line of work. Phone sex. And that’s what you had. You just stepped over a boundary that you usually stay far away from. Whose fault is that?

No amount of logic can shake that feeling, though. You develop a little grudge against this man who you will never meet.

That’s what you tell yourself—that you’ll never meet him. But there’s a nugget of hope inside that, someday, he’ll call you. Someday he’ll kiss you. You try to obliterate that nugget though, as it is antithetical to the remedy to your lovesickness that you’re seeking.

Which will come first, him calling you, or you quitting this job that you’ve been meaning to quit for months at this point?

You hate to admit this to yourself, but he’s the only thing that was keeping the thoughts of quitting at bay. Maybe you really will quit this time around.

---

It is a Saturday night and you’re working again. It’s an unfortunately slow night, which sucks, because you really could use the money.

You’re scrolling on your phone, waiting for the next call to come in. It has been three hours with no calls. Guess all the creepy old men have plans tonight, which is such a shame because you need to pay rent soon. Sigh.

Time passes. You check the clock. It’s almost 11:30PM. The time doesn’t remind you of him anymore (well, much).

Maybe if you channel some of your good karma, ask the universe to cut a check of it right now, someone will call you for one long, lengthy conversation. You can help get them off as many times as they want. Five times in a row. You’ll break that record and go for six times if they just pay you. No questions asked.

Sure enough, a call comes through. You check the clock again. It’s been moving at a snail’s pace tonight. It’s 11:35PM. Hopefully whoever this is feels like talking.

“Hello?”

Your heart stops.

It sounds like Sanji for a second. But there’s no way. It’s been five fucking months.

“Hi.” You respond in your sugared up, sultry voice.

“It’s been a long time, gorgeous.”

It is Sanji.

Your heart flutters and your stomach flips. You’re speechless.

Don’t forget your game plans: curse him out or cry. But you can’t bring yourself to do either now that he’s waiting on the other line. You’re about to hang up the phone. You owe this man nothing and he owes you nothing—it’s that simple.

As you go to press the end call button, he speaks again.

“I’m sorry.”

The tears start now. The dam inside of you breaks. Hot tears pour out of your eyes and down your cheeks.

You didn’t think that hearing his voice would have this strong of an effect on you. But the heartbreak that you once thought faded away is now back in full force.

He’s waiting for a response before he hears shuddering breaths from you as you cry. Your tears are all the confirmation he needs—he knows that he was right months ago when he worked up the courage to confess to you. He should have done it. He knows that he was wrong to take the coward’s way out. And he knows he was wrong to tell himself that you didn’t care about him and wouldn’t care when he disappeared, because he was just a client to you. He was so terribly wrong. The sound of your sobs shatters him.

“I should have called you before. I’m so sorry. And maybe you hate me for waiting this long to call you again. I understand if you do. I just couldn’t keep it inside anymore, I—”

“Where the fuck were you?” You cut him off. Your anger is starting to seep through the tears. Maybe the first game plan can still happen. “I waited for you, Sanji.”

He doesn’t even try to think of a comeback or excuse. He tells you plainly what happened and, even though it breaks your heart some more, it makes sense.

“Well… I finally found someone. Last time, after I hung up, I had another date with that person I mentioned, and it went really well. So, we just kept going on dates. It didn’t feel right to keep calling you when things with her were progressing so quickly. We got together, and—”

“I understand, Sanji. That’s all I wanted to hear. Thanks.”

You slam your finger down on the hang up button. Your heart is broken enough as it is. He can keep all that yapping to himself. Good for nothing heartbreaker.

So what, he was with whoever that was. So what, they love each other and have been together almost half a year at this point. So what, he was just a client the whole time and you had gotten your hopes up for nothing and—your catastrophizing is stopped in its tracks when your phone starts to buzz again. You feel like it’s Sanji.

You pick up the phone. It is.

“Wait, wait, don’t hang up, please let me finish, please.”

“What, so you can tell me how much you love your girlfriend? I get it, Sanji. You paid me to talk to you for so long that of course you got sick of it and finally got what you had been after the whole time, a loving, very real partner. I understand that I’m just a service to be used and discarded later. That’s fine. Goodbye.”

“No. Listen to me.” Sanji’s voice is stern and harsh, a tone you’ve never heard from him before. “We got together and then she very quickly dumped me. Do you know what she kept saying to me? She said I was too absentminded. She thought I was thinking about someone else. Dumped me after two months because I couldn’t give her what she wanted. Absentminded.”

His words hang in the air for a few moments while you try to process why the fuck he’s explaining any of this to you and why it matters. He continues. His voice is emphatic, hurried, and nervous sounding.

“And if I’m being honest, I was absentminded. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I know this sounds fucking ridiculous because we’ve never met, and I understand if you tell me to go fuck off because I’m sure this happens to you all the time, but… I can’t get you out of my head. I’ve tried to for months. Three months. I told myself that I was an idiot for falling for someone out of my league. And the crazy thing is, I don’t even have to see you to know you’re out of my league. The way you act is out of my league. YOU are out of my league. You’re thoughtful, and kind, and considerate, and you pause before you respond whenever you talk because I can tell you’re really thinking over your response. And you’re funny. And witty, and charming, and you never once made me feel weird or less than for calling and finding solace in you. I’ve been lonely for years. I make the first move all the time, but it never works out. And I know I fucked this one up, and I know I didn’t have a chance in hell with you to begin with, but I just, fuck, I had to get this off my chest. I love you. I fell for you the first conversation we had. Now please tell me to fuck off.”

You can tell that every word he is saying is sincere and earnest. You can hear the emotion in his voice. While you wipe your tears dry and mend your heart together, you take deep breaths. He can wait for your response. Like he just said, you’re intentional about your responses to people. Every word matters. Especially with Sanji.

“Do you know how bad it hurt after our last conversation to not hear from you again?” You start.

He winces. He knew that was coming.

“I’m so so sorry. I’m so sorry. It was disrespectful of me, and callous, and if you hang up and never want to speak to me again, I understand and I deserve it.”

“You do deserve it.” You say, regaining some composure. “You really do, Sanji.”

“I’m sorry.” You can hear his frown. It’s a cute one. Fuck. His cute words are playing back in your ears too. So, he loves you?

Should you tell him how you feel? How you’ve felt for a long time?

One part of you is screaming at you to get a grip. But the other part—all the other parts—are finally, finally hearing what you’ve been wanting to hear for around a year at this point. That he likes you for you. That he sees you as you, and not some dolled up object of affection that’s only there to get people off and talk dirty to them. It has never been like that between you.

“If I accept your apology, Sanji, what then?”

“I—I actually didn’t think I would make it this far. But if you accept my apology, my next step is to ask you out to dinner with me. And to ask for your phone number. Your real phone number.”

You let out a long, deep sigh. “Sanji. My love. You could have told me these things months ago. It would have saved both of us so much heartbreak. I was devastated. Do you know that?”

You know that he already profusely apologized but you feel like driving it home a bit more. He deserves it. But while you talk, his hopes start to rise. You’ve never called him ‘my love’ before. Maybe that bodes well?

“I’m so sorry. I really am.” He sounds like he means it. You trust him enough to know that he does. Well, fuck it.

“Don’t think I’ll just forget about this because I’m head over heels for you, okay?”

“You—what?” He’s caught off guard. “You are?”

“Sanji. Yes. And you could have found out ages ago. Now, when are we going to dinner? You can apologize to me again then, too. And even if you don’t like what you see, you have to pay for everything. I’m getting an appetizer, an entrée, a dessert, at least two drinks, and whatever else I want. Okay?”

He laughs in relief. “Yes, okay. Yes. Holy shit, I didn’t think you would say that. I wish I could kiss you.”

“Wait—one last thing. If you decide you don’t like me after our date, Sanji, you have to tell me there on the spot. You can’t leave me waiting for another five months. You just can’t.”

“I promise, I won’t leave you waiting. I promise.”

When you hang up the phone a few minutes later (after more twisting the knife), you’re so thrilled that you can hardly breathe.

You can’t believe this is real life. You also can’t believe how quickly you just forgot your dignity, but you’ll unpack that later.

Dinner is set for tomorrow night. 7:30PM on the dot. Sanji is calling out of work, and he’s taking you to the (second) nicest restaurant in town (his is the first, obviously, and he wants to save that for a night where he can really plan ahead and spoil you).

---

When you get to the restaurant, Sanji is already there, waiting outside with a large bouquet of flowers.

He’s more handsome than you could have imagined. Of course he is. You do have great intuition, and you knew from the start that he was sexy. But… goddamn, he is sexy.

It makes sense now what he meant by curly eyebrows. He’s dressed well, too. He’s wearing black slacks and a white button down. A few buttons are undone, and his sleeves are rolled up to his forearms. He has black loafers and black socks. And he smells good. And he smiles good.

He’s so nervous he could puke. He hopes that when he sees you the nerves will melt. But they get 20x worse because he’s enamored with you. You’re beyond his wildest dreams—no number of fantasies could have led him to guess that you look like this.

He’s so obsessed that he starts to stammer before you tell him to calm down, and that he’s making you nervous.

Over dinner, you catch up on everything you’ve missed in the past few months of silence. You fill him in on details in your life that you previously kept to yourself, and he sees a whole new side of you.

At the end of the date, he tells you that he still loves you, that he loves you even more now, and that he’s so so sorry. He says that he’s mesmerized by you, that you’re more than he could have ever dreamed of, and that you can count on him for anything.

You seal the night with a kiss. A long one. It’s so romantic that you feel a bit disturbed with how happy you are after.

And it turns out that yes, this is your big happy ending. You make a perfect pair.

Epilogue: The day that Sanji finally shows off the techniques he told you about long ago, you’re more than satisfied. In fact, it seems like he was actually underselling himself there. You always knew he was the modest type.

thanks for reading! this was inspired by a whole lot of laufey! i hope you liked it. i love sanji so much it hurts me ;(

click here for part 2! also here's my masterlist if you're interested!

#this may be my fave thing i've ever written idk why i just like it a lot #sanji smut #op sanji smut #op smut #op x reader #one piece x reader #one piece reader insert #sanji x reader #sanji x y/n #sanji x you

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dilfl0v3rss · 10 months ago

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"lets talk in person"

it was simple. you were to go to his apartment, say your peace, and call the relationship quits. not everyone who loves each other should be together. it’s okay that you and ony aren’t going to work out. you’ll take the time you need to heal and eventually find someone new.

that’s what you’ve been telling yourself over and over for the past five minutes as you threw on your short shorts and cropped hoodie, your pink french tip toes neatly slipping into your hello kitty slippers. you overlooked yourself in the mirror. the soft fabric of your shorts moved with every inch of your ass, sitting on top of it as a second skin, clearly showing your lack of underwear.

‘just talking in person’ you thought as you grabbed your car keys from your vanity and made your way outside. this felt familiar. the soft rumbling of your engine as well as the pitch black sky, littered with crystal like stars. you’ve been here many nights before, tears in your eyes and an argument on your tongue as you raced across town to his house. the latest time being when you saw pictures in his phone being sent to him by another girl. you still don't know her name since the contact was saved as your favorite restaurant to calm any suspicion.

this time there were no tears and the many questions and concerns in your mind have faded away. you know that talking in person probably isn't the best idea given that ony has a way with words and knows how to use his body to his advantage, but you knew if you didn't tell him it was over to his face he wouldn't take it seriously.

for the first time since you’ve met ony you weren’t nervous when you approached his front door. you held your head high as you left three knocks to signal that you’ve arrived. seconds went by as you listened to the heavy footsteps coming from the other side. you took a deep breath and kept your eyes forward as the door began to open.

your heart fluttered at the sight of him. you knew this man was fine, but he always seemed to have a little extra glow when he pissed you off. it was like he thrived off of making your life a living hell sometimes. his chocolate brown eyes stayed trained on yours as he moved to the side for you to enter. his milkly white nike socks sat snug on his feet, light grey sweatpants starting from his ankle, up his long legs, all the way to his v-line. his black polo tee was sitting perfectly on his beautifully sculpted body, accompanied by two gold chains resting on his broad chest.

"hey ma" he rubbed a wide hand up his chest as he spoke.

his face was serious, but you knew it was a facade. his smooth, dark skin looked freshly moisturized as if he had just showered. his bottom lip tucked behind his pearly white teeth, centimeters away from his growing goatee below it. ony has been a known manipulator for years, and you’re just like the other many woman that have found themself stuck in his trap. you were different from those other women though, much smarter.

“thanks” you mumbled, ignoring his greeting before moving past him and towards the couch. you fought with yourself about taking a second look at him, but decided against it, knowing that all it took was that one extra look and you’ll be back in his bed again. you heard ony chuckle at your attitude. "cute", he thought, closing the door before slowly making his way next to you on the couch. he gave you some room since it was often that he’d manspread like he was now. ony spread his legs wide as he slid his inked hands into the waistband of his sweats, his navy blue polo boxers making an appearance as the waistband of his sweats stretched over his fists. low eyes moved towards you and rested there, just taking in your presence as the two of you sat silently. ony's lack of words scared you since it was often that he’d start trying to get you to talk to him by now, but that wasn't happening.

you felt naked under his gaze, that nervousness quickly sneaking into you as you kept your eyes on his. he knew you were on the shyer side, always turning away when it came to holding eye contact or speaking up to him. this is what he fed on to get the upper hand on you, but you refused to let the same that's happened many times before happen today. “ion think we should be together no more ony.” you broke the silence, body finally finished wasting time to free the words your mind has been screaming since you walked into the door. your tone surprised ony, its sternest very foreign to him. you were ready for him to try to plead with you, try to hold your hand and tell you that he wanted to change. that was actually what you would’ve preferred, it would’ve helped you be able to actually leave because that's what you were expecting, but tonight isn’t really feeling like how they used to anymore.

ony didn’t say anything. his eyes just stayed on you, tongue swiping over his bottom lip as he tilted his head to the side. a shiver ran down your spine as you watching his dark eyes move down your body, stopping right at your center before a small smirk crept onto his lips and he rejoined his eyes with yours. “so you leavin me, huh?” his deep voice caused his chest to rumble, the bass in it causing your thighs to tighten together. you gave him a small nod, only adding fuel to the fire as his head began to nod as well. “speak up mama" the sound of that nickname rolling off his tongue forced a rush of arousal to run through your body, stomach filled with butterflies as you adjusted yourself in your seat. why does he have to be so handsome?you wanted to just jump into his arms and let him take you, but that wasn't an option tonight. of course ony could tell you were fighting with yourself. he fought back a grin as his eyes traveled down to your tightly clenched thighs. you watched as his bottom lip disappeared behind his teeth, his hunger rising in his gaze.

he rose from his seat on the couch, “ima give you the night to think it over, but you can grab some of your stuff tonight i guess.” the gold on his canines showed as he spoke win a bored tone, his hands moving from his sweatpants as he rose from the couch.

your eyes followed him, his 6’3 figure looming over you as you stay seated on the couch. he had the audacity to stretch like the situation was just another night for him, but you couldn’t stop yourself from staring right at him. ony’s lower stomach made an appearance as he stretched the muscles of his back, shirt riding up his stomach as a deep groan released from his throat. his visible tattoos ran from his neck all the way to his fingers. some of them he claimed represented you, but you doubt he hasn’t told other woman the same exact thing.

you watched him walk towards the bottom of the steps before turning facing you, dark brown eyes filled with mischief. “you coming baby?”

ony couldn’t bite back the smirk that overtook his features, his head tilting to the side as he raised a brow at you. you know this is a trap. if you go up those stairs you most definitely won’t be coming back down tonight. you’re sure that the rest of the women he’s been with have fell for the same exact thing and that’s why you knew it was time to leave.

ony is a liar and a manipulator. he is incapable of showing loyalty or commitment, and he shows no signs of potentially changing this behavior. he is the worst type of man a woman can involve herself with and he deserves to be left standing at the bottom of the steps as you walk away from him and this toxic situation you called a relationship. he deserves to be treated the same way you were and worse.

you aren’t like the other woman he’s been with. you knew it and he knew it. you were much smarter and were quicker to pick up on his schemes. you were much more logical than the rest.

“uh huh, there you go. loosen her up f’me” the base in his voice ran straight to your core as ony fucked you slowly in missionary. your legs were spread wide, each and every inch of him stroking you as pretty whines flowed from your lips. he watched you hungrily, dark brown eyes raking up and down your body before landing on your face. “look so pretty” he mumbled as he watched your face contort into many ones of pleasure, "o-oh my god"

within the first ten minutes of you being in his room you managed to get a pair of panties and a brush into your bag before you found yourself with his face between your legs. his long tongue making quick work of licking and eating whatever anger you had left before spreading your legs wide and feeding you every inch of his dick.

ony’s pace was quick, snatching loud moans from you before his wide, inked hands found purchase on the bottoms of your thighs. “you love me mama?” before you could reply, he slowly pushed your thighs towards your chest, listening to you breathlessly moan at his newfound angle. “hmmyea” your eyes began to roll, every sentence you’ve thought of saying dissolved on your tongue as he leaned down closer towards your face. “oh really? why you jus try to leave me den? youn love daddy no more” ony couldn’t stop his smirk from widening as you watched you panic beneath him. whiney, breathless begs flowed from your kiss-bruised lips as your walls tightened around him.

“was stupid, love you papa, o-only you” you looked up at him, brown doe eyes fighting not to roll back as your lips curved into an adorable pout, you were stunning. ony’s dick began to twitch at the sight, an orgasm threatening to approach causing his breathing to quicken. “maybe i should put a baby in you. that should set you straight right?” you were so fucked out you barely could register his words. your mindless nodding being evidence of that. your lack of comprehension only turned ony on more as he began to push himself deeper into you, his pace quickening even more as he began to pound you into the mattress.

“you my stupid lil princess ain’t you, so damn beautiful” ony chuckled at the sight of you. it wasn’t too long ago you were sitting on his couch telling him you were ready to call it quits. now here you are not even an hour later in the middle of his bed milking him for everything he had. you weren’t like the other girls, that was true. you weren’t oblivious to the things he did and you weren’t gullible either. you had a good head on your shoulders. other girls don’t think when it comes to ony, but that’s what makes you so much worse.

ony is a liar and a manipulator. he is incapable of showing loyalty or commitment, and he shows no signs of potentially changing this behavior. but while other woman mindlessly fall into his games, you knew all this and still choose to stay, letting his wide, dark hands roam and caress your body as he fed you each and every inch of him at a steady pace.

you nodded along to every word he uttered, not a single thought going through your brain as you felt the coil in your stomach begin to tighten. "now tell daddy you sorry and promise not to do no dumb shit like that again." ony's hand slowly snaked up your body, stopping right at your throat before slowly squeezing it tighter and tighter. he slowed his strokes, hovering you right over the brink of your orgasm. he couldn't help a devilish smirk from spreading across his features as he listened to your pretty voice struggle not to break as you spoke. "sorry f'trying t'leave you daddy and- ah!" your sentence was cut off by a quick, hard trust of his hips, his dick reaching your deepest parts with a quickness as he tightened his grip on your throat. "let daddy hear you ma, use that big girl voice you had when we was downstairs."

you grew restless at the sound of his deep, commanding voice. he watched as you whimpered, tonging swiping over his bottom lip as he moved his face closer to yours. "m'listening" his hips didn't miss a beat, brown eyes staring deep into yours as your lips parted for you to speak. "m'sorry for tryna l-leave you daddy, won't do it again p-promise." as you spoke ony's hips moved rougher. his hand quickly finding your lower stomach before giving it a gentle push. "o-oh my god onyy" your back arched off the bed as your orgasm shook through your body. ony swallowed your moans, brown lips dancing with yours as his tongue asserted its dominance in your mouth.

your spit kept your lips connected as ony slowly moved his face from yours. he took in your fucked out state, eyes rolled back, lips swollen from the many kisses you've shared, not a single argument on your tongue nor a thought in your head. nothing but ony clouding your mind as he dug you out in ways he knew you'd never be able to find anywhere else. he had you right where he wanted and by the looks of the delirious, fucked out smile spreading to your lips you wouldn't even remember what you were mad about in the morning. ony fucked you a little harder and a smirk crept onto his face at the sight.

"my stupid lil princess"

#aot x black reader #onyankopon x black reader #onyankopon x reader #onyankopon x black!reader #onyankopon x black y/n #aot onyankopon x black reader #aot onyankopon x reader #aot onyankopon x black!reader #aot onyankopon x black y/n #aot onyankopon x black!y/n #onyankopon x black!y/n #aot x black!reader #aot x black y/n #aot x black!y/n

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mggslover · 3 months ago

Text

Reflections

In which Spencer sees himself in a suspect, making him willing to do anything to protect her. Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader Genre: crime x angst? x fluff? Content warnings: post prisoner!spencer (but no spoilers bc i'm still on s11 lol, so sorry for inaccuracies), one time mention of suicide and rape (no details), fade to black smut so suggestive content Word count: 3,8k A/n: my own entry for #lovers1kevent ! bit different from what i usually write. didn't exactly turn out like how i had envisioned it, but i'm still very curious to hear your thoughts!

“Maybe it’s a blessing in disguise. I see my reflection in your eyes.” The sound of a clock striking midnight made you jump in your seat, the plastic stool screeching loudly against the cold, concrete floor. The interrogation room was filled with nothing but the rhythmic ticking of the clock and the pounding of your heartbeat. Everything in this room felt eerie: a harsh light shone down on you, irritating your eyes, and there was no escaping your reflection in the two-way mirror in front of you. You observed yourself through the glass, and to put it simply, you looked awful. The dress you were wearing was crumpled as it hung loosely on your frame, the dark circles under your eyes were noticeable from a distance, and your eyes themselves expressed no spark. They looked dimmed, with no emotion behind the colored irises. Though, that had been so for a while now.

The creak of the door jolted you out of your thoughts. You turned your head, feeling disappointment when the same agent as before walked in. He wasn’t hard on the eyes: dark skin, rolled-up sleeves that showed his muscular forearms, a neatly trimmed goatee covering his sharp jaw, and eyes that looked just as cutting as they darted over you. Maybe, in another life, you would’ve considered dating him. In a life where he didn’t suspect you of killing three men.

He stayed quiet as he made his way over to you, taking a seat at the opposite side of the table. He placed a folder in front of him, shoving it toward you. “Still not going to talk?”

You cleared your throat. Nevertheless, the words came out hoarse. “I have nothing to say.”

He rolled his eyes in annoyance before crossing his arms. “Do I need to remind you of your rights? You can contact a lawyer, or we can get you one.”

“I also have the right to remain silent.”

A small huff escaped his lips, and you noticed the way he clenched his fingers, as though trying to hold himself back from making a comment he’d regret.

His eyes landed back on you, glaring. “A girl like you won’t survive in prison.”

“Well, then it’s good that I’m not going to prison,” you snapped back with a small smile. You weren’t going to let him intimidate you. You didn’t do anything wrong, yet here you were.

“I’d lose the attitude if I were you because it’s not looking good.”

Before you could open your mouth to respond, he cut you off. “Open the folder.”

You inhaled deeply before obeying. You hated the way you couldn’t help the nerves from creeping in. Your hand trembled as you opened the folder. The picture that greeted you was one of three lifeless bodies slumped over each other in an empty alley. A bitter tang formed in the back of your throat, but you ignored it, forcing yourself to look back at the agent.

“Looks familiar?”

Your eyes flicked over the image again. “What exactly are you referring to?”

“The people. Do you recognize them?”

You nodded.

“I want a clear answer,” he said, his voice raised.

“Yes,” you replied, matching his tone. “We went to college together.”

There was no way you could forget them. Unfortunately. The idea that they were wiped off the face of earth gave you a strange sense of comfort. Maybe now you could find the peace you’d been looking for. The peace she was looking for.

The agent seemed relieved to have gotten an answer out of you. “And you met up with them again today. Is that right?” he queried, nodding toward the folder.

You got the hint and pulled the first picture off the pile, revealing another underneath it. It was a selfie taken by two women. You spotted yourself in the right corner by the bar, in conversation with the three men he was referring to. His gaze stayed focused on you, trying to see if you’d reveal any emotion.

“It was our college reunion. As you can see I wasn’t the only one there,” you explained.

“Multiple witnesses have told us you were the last person seen talking to them.”

You shrugged. “Is that something significant?”

“Not necessarily so,” he answered, sitting up straighter. “What is, is that you left through the emergency exit. And what makes it even more suspicious is that you left right after the victims got their drinks served.”

You gave him a blank look.

“The victims were poisoned.”

Ah.

You offered him a tight smile. “I think that’s something you need to bother the bartender about.”

“We checked him out already. The only person we can connect to this case is you.”

A silence followed. It truly didn’t seem like you’d be leaving anytime soon. You rubbed your hands down on the material of your dress, gathering courage.

“It’s an unfortunate coincidence. Like I told you, I had nothing to do with it. I don’t want anything to do with them,” you clarified, the disdain evident on your tongue.

The agent turned his head around, looking at the two-way mirror. The thought of other agents standing behind that wall, all analyzing you full of judgement, made your skin crawl.

“Seems like you’re not too fond of the men.”

You scoffed, “No one is.”

“What about Natalie Fisher?” he wondered aloud. “She seemed close to you. We found multiple pictures dating back to high school.”

Like a gust of wind, the memories came back to you. How you found Natalie standing in front of your college dorm room, smiling brightly as she introduced herself as your roommate. You instantly hit it off: sharing the same humor, the same passions. Only a year younger than you, but a carbon copy. From that day on you were inseparable.

It all came back to that one night — that one time you bailed on her, deciding studying for an upcoming exam was more important than joining her at a frat party. It was only when she called you awake in the middle of the night, her voice shaking as her words tripped over her tongue, telling you she didn’t know where she was and how she woke up in an empty alley, possibly drugged and with her clothes torn — that you knew you made the biggest mistake in your life.

You shook the thoughts away. Pursing your lips as you shrugged. “She was. I don’t know why you’re bringing her up.”

“Her report says she died two years ago from suicide. Or did you kill her as well?”

It felt like he’d knocked the breath out of you. You made a choking sound somewhere between a laugh and a cry. “You’re sick,” you spat in disbelief.

“I’m sick?” He chuckled sarcastically. “You’re the one who murdered those people.”

“I didn’t murder anyone!”

The sound of your yelling reverberated off the concrete walls, the echo scaring you. You squeezed your eyes shut, holding back tears as you bit your tongue. There goes your attempt at staying calm. He was playing games with your mind. You knew this was all a trick — a way to get you to admit to the crimes he was naming. And it drove you crazy that it was having an effect.

“I’m not talking to you anymore,” you muttered.

-`♡´-

Spencer couldn’t tear his eyes away from you as he looked through the glass. You’d been sitting there for three hours, forty-three minutes, and twenty-six seconds, counting. He didn’t know what it was about you that made it impossible to look away. Hotch had told him to go home. Hotch was certain that they got the right unsub, and he assured him that you’d confess at some point. But he couldn’t get himself to move. To turn his head even. All he felt was a nagging guilt as he watched you being questioned by Morgan. It was a different experience to see an interrogation when he’s been in one himself. He now understood what it was like. How pressuring their questions can be, how the weight of a sentence is crushed on your shoulders, and how they keep pushing you to the point where you even start doubting your own truth.

All he could think of when he saw you was innocence. A soft, radiant white light surrounded you. You were bright even against the harshness of the room. There was no rational way to explain how he felt, only that he sensed the deepest desire to keep you safe from everything that could hurt you.

“She’s working on my nerves,” Morgan exclaimed, tension visible in his shoulders as he stomped out of the interrogation room.

“We can’t stop,” Hotch stated. “We haven’t gotten an answer out of her yet.”

Morgan let out a deep huff. “It’s clear that she did it.”

Spencer's focus was back on you. Since he’s been to prison he’s been more aligned with his feelings. His heart overpowering his mind at times.

“She’s not our unsub,” Spencer spoke up, surprising even himself with the firmness of his voice.

Everyone looked at him expectantly, waiting for the genius revelation he always had. But the room stayed silent.

Hotch eyed him, “What makes you say that?”

“I just know.” Spencer replied, not caring to elaborate further. He nudged Derek aside and headed for the door. “I’ll take it from here.”

He pulled the heavy metal door open, at once met with your doe eyes as you faced him. For the first time tonight, you didn’t flinch when someone entered.

Spencer had to swallow. His gaze momentarily dropped to the floor, feeling overwhelmed by how beautiful you looked up close. You seemed tired, cold, yet somehow angelic.

His eyes never left yours as he made his way over to you. You held his gaze, observing him with the same intensity as he was. He carried a calm, magnetic presence, which made you feel an unexplainable urge to get closer to him.

“Are you cold?” he eventually asked, his voice gentle and considerate.

You blinked at his question, clearly not expecting it. You remembered how you were only wearing a light dress, noticing the goosebumps that had formed on your bare legs. Inevitably, you nodded.

He surprised you again by taking off his suit jacket and draping it over your shoulders. The fabric felt heavy, enveloping you like a warm blanket.

“Thank you,” you silently mumbled, noticing a small dimple appear in his cheek.

He sat down in front of you, resting his arms on the table between you, as though compelled to get as close as possible. The moment felt intimate, your eyes locked on his tender brown ones, making the world fade around you. “I believe you.”

For a moment, you just stared at him, a frown formed on your face as you realized he wasn’t about to say more. “What?”

“I believe you,” he repeated in the same composed manner. He leaned forward even further, and it was then that you noticed you had subconsciously mirrored his movement, drawn to him like a magnetic pull.

“They suspect you, but I don’t.”

He didn’t need to rephrase his words for you to understand who he meant by them. You could almost feel the other agents’ glaring stares pressing down on you through the glass.

“Try to forget about them,” he reminded you, as if reading your thoughts. You didn’t look up to face him, instead your focus was on the proximity of your hands on the table, his finger just inches away from touching yours. Spencer noticed the look in your eyes, and moved his little finger just enough to brush against yours.

An electric shock coursed through you. Simultaneously, both of you shuddered, stunned as you saw the other wearing the same stupefied expression. Sure, it could’ve been a static shock, but something told you it was more than that. And by the look of the curly haired agent, he felt the same.

“Why don’t you?” you asked, returning to the subject. “Suspect me, I mean.”

Spencer hesitated for a moment, searching for the right words. “Because I know what it’s like to be in a situation like you are.” He saw the confusion written on your face, continuing his explanation. “There’s something about being in a room like this — being treated like you’re guilty before you even speak — that makes you start questioning your own truth.”

Questions flooded your mind, but you chose not to press further. You had someone who believed you, you weren’t going to ruin that opportunity by being too curious.

“So, what now?” your voice sounded more sure, hopeful even.

“Usually, we ask people if they’re willing to take a polygraph exam,” he explained. “It can also be referred to as a lie detector test, even though that term is often used incorrectly. A professional will ask a series of questions, and as you answer, the device will measure multiple psychological indicators which are associated with lying, like your blood pressure and pulse. I know it can sound scary, but in cases like these — when there’s no clear evidence — it might be the only thing keeping you from going to prison.”

His words hit you hard, though the gleam in his eyes remained soft. You inhaled deeply before nodding. “I’ll do it.”

-`♡´-

“She’s telling the truth.”

You hadn’t known pure relief until now. Your eyes closed, trying to stop the flood of emotions from flowing in when the pressure cuffs and sensors were being removed from your arms and hands. You didn’t know whether to cry or to cheer, but when you opened your eyes and saw Spencer — who had introduced himself as Dr. Reid, smiling at you, you were sure everything would turn out okay.

“Impossible,” the agent who questioned you earlier huffed under his breath.

The chief who had introduced himself as Aaron Hotchner walked up to you. “For now you’re free to go. However, this case isn’t closed yet. You’ll remain our primary suspect until we find more proof.”

The sharpness in his voice didn’t go unnoticed. You kept quiet as he and the other agents left the room, leaving you alone with Dr. Reid.

He closed the distance between you two, standing near enough that he could see all the details on your face. He fought the urge to tuck the loose strings of hair behind your ear, to hold you and tell you that you were okay.

“You did really well,” he said with a soft smile. “Your heartbeat stayed on an average of 70 beats per minute, only going up to 86 once, which is still in the normal range.”

“Did you peek at the monitor?” you jokingly teased.

“I- uh, no. I just counted.” Spencer shyly admitted, earning a playful grin from you. You took his hand in yours, his palm slightly sweaty, as if he was nervous about the outcome too. Then you placed his hand on your chest, right where your heart was. “What about now? Higher than average?”

He swallowed, a blush creeping up his neck. “95 beats per minute.”

The tension between you was palpable, though his touch felt comforting. Your hand was placed over his, and you could both feel the way your heartbeat steadily decreased as you brushed your fingers soothingly over his.

“Can I drive you home?” Spencer offered.

You bit your lip in an effort to hide your grin, but then the corners of your mouth slightly dropped. “I don’t really have a place to stay.”

His brows lifted in surprise, but an empathetic twinkle appeared in his bambi eyes. “You could stay at my place.”

Spencer wasn’t sure why the words came out, but he meant them. He could practically hear the voices of his team telling him to not get involved with someone on a case, let alone a potential suspect. But it wasn’t like he was the first person to do so. And he wouldn’t waste the opportunity of getting closer to you. Maybe if he could get to know you better, if he could make you comfortable enough to open up to him, he could prove to everyone that you were innocent. Because deep down, he knew you were.

-`♡´-

“Hey, hey, hey! What are you doing, man?” Morgan called out, rushing after Spencer, who had just entered the bullpen to grab his satchel bag before heading out with you.

“Hotch told me I could go home,” he hastily replied, stuffing his papers into his bag.

“Yeah, two hours ago. Before you decided to flirt with a suspect,” he exclaimed in frustration.

“I didn’t flirt with her,” Spencer recounted under his breath.

Morgan let out a dry laugh. “Everyone saw what went on in that room, Reid,” he shook his head in disbelief. “I would’ve least expected this from someone like you.”

“Someone like me doesn’t exist anymore, Derek,” Spencer snapped, a sharp edge to his voice. “I’m not who I was before prison, and neither will I ever be that person again. However, I can help her from turning into someone like me. So, if you don’t mind, I am leaving now.”

He left Morgan at a loss of words as he walked off. You were waiting on him; your posture stiffened as you wrapped his jacket closer around you. Gently, Spencer threaded his fingers through yours and guided you to the elevator.

Once inside, Spencer pressed the button to the ground floor, then leaned his head back to the wall, letting out a fatigued sigh.

“I am sorry for causing you trouble,” you apologized, nervously picking at the fabric of his jacket that hung loosely over your arms.

His gaze softened, and he shook his head before he reached out to hold your hand once more. It was ironic how he longed for your grounding touch. “You’re not causing me any trouble. I’m sorry for the way they’re treating you. It’s our job to be cautious, to not easily trust someone.”

You squeezed his hand. “But you trust me,” you stated, though it came out more as a question, waiting for confirmation.

His other hand lifted up to touch your cheek, and his heart warmed at how you instinctively leaned into his touch. “I do.”

You looked up at him, meeting his eyes. “Can you prove it to me?”

He responded with a soft chuckle, reaching up to cup your face in his large palms. You rose to your tiptoes, leaning in until his sweet lips found yours.

-`♡´-

Spencer had expected to spend the ride home talking to you. Instead, you spent the entire ride trying to resist the urge to climb on top of each other. Once he tasted your lips, he couldn’t get enough, and neither could you.

Your giggle sounded through the dimly lit halls of his apartment complex as he dragged you up the stairs.

“Hurry,” you impatiently chuckled as he struggled to find his keys in his bag. He joined your giddy laughter as you entered the apartment. The second he shut the door close, he gently pressed you against the wall, his lips finding yours again. You let out a satisfied hum, your fingers sliding into the soft curls of his hair, tugging on it as he bit down on your bottom lip.

“Wait—one second,” he murmured.

“No,” you pouted, capturing his lips.

He kissed you back—then again, and again—before finally pulling away. “I just need to put my gun away.”

“Fine,” you mumbled, pressing one last kiss to his lips. “Just make it quick.”

He gave you a big grin and walked to the cupboard, where his safe was hidden behind his jackets and a row of spare shoes. It felt strange to have someone in his apartment. Strange to be smiling so brightly, to feel so much, after the emptiness prison has brought him. But strange didn’t mean bad. It felt new. And new could be good. You could be good.

His fingers pressed down on the familiar buttons: 62383. With a soft click, the lock opened; he took his gun from its holster on his pants and safely put it away.

When he turned back, he saw you leaning against the wall, a sweet expression on your face as you awaited him. He strode toward you, immediately pulling you in and kissing you fiercely.

Spencer was aware of his actions. Aware that he shouldn’t be doing what he was about to do with you. But as his hand made contact with the warm skin of your inner thighs, and as your sweet sounds filled the air, he chose to simply not care.

-`♡´-

The next morning you woke up with messy curls tingling against your face. You chuckled as Spencer lay asleep with his head resting on your chest. Your fingers ached with the urge to graze them through his hair, to press a soft kiss to the top of his head. Instead, you held your breath as you climbed from underneath him.

The golden sun shone brightly through the curtains, illuminating your surroundings. You tiptoed through the room, gathering the items of clothes one by one, until you were fully dressed.

Wearing yesterday’s dress sent a shiver through your body, being reminded of the long hours spent in that bleak interrogation room.

You mumbled a sorry, before opening his closet and fishing a T-shirt out of it, a blue one with a faded Caltech logo, barely visible. You ignored the thoughts forming in your head, the itch to want to know more about the man who was still sleeping soundlessly in the bed that you shared.

Once you found yourself a suitable pair of pants, Spencer started groaning from the other side of the room. You turned around, catching his hand patting down the empty space beside him, as if in search of the heat of your body. It felt irresistible to not check up on him. You slowly made your way to his side of the bed, crouching down and lightly stroking his face. His eyes blinked open, and the way he smiled made your heart churn.

“I need to go,” you softly whispered to him.

His smile faltered. “Where to?” He sat up straighter on the bed, but you gently pushed him back down.

“Will I see you again?” Spencer asked when you didn’t respond.

Your lips curled in a smile, “I’m sure you will.”

And sure you were, because as soon as you left the bedroom, you were headed to the cupboard, pushing aside the jackets that hung on the hooks, until your eyes landed on the shining steel safe.

62383.

The lock sprung open, and in a swift motion you took the gun and hid it in the bottom of your purse. I will be seeing you again, Spencer. Just under different circumstances.

PART 2

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hannahbarberra162 · 6 months ago

Text

Emperor's Prize (Alpha Shanks x Omega Reader) Part 2

18+ MDNI on Ao3

Seek medical attention for infected bite wounds.

The first chapter

The next chapter

Shanks POV

Hongo tilted his head to the side while contemplating your last statement. His mouth opened and closed before asking “Captain, may I speak to you outside for a moment?” Shanks nodded, using his thumb to wipe away the tear tracking down the Omega’s face.

“Stay here, OK? I’ll be just outside the door,” Shanks said in your ear quietly, his stubble scraping against your cheek and earning him a shiver from you. Picking you off his lap with ease, Shanks set the Omega down on the unmade bed. You were still steadfastly looking down at your feet and avoiding eye contact with either Hongo or himself. Shanks stood up and followed the doctor, opening and shutting the cabin door gently behind him to avoid startling you.

“Are you keeping her?” the doctor asked, letting out the breath he’d been holding.

Shanks hadn’t given it much thought in the short time he’d had the Omega on his ship. If Shanks was a better man, he could let her go back on suppressants while living in anonymity on a protected island. She’d made it years without being detected and likely could go back to doing the same.

Or he could sell her and make a ton of Berri, maybe even equal to his bounty. This idea was dismissed as the thought of turning her over to someone who would traumatize her just as badly - or maybe worse - turned his stomach. Besides, the islands he protected were perfectly happy to supply him with whatever the crew needed. The Red Force was welcomed all over the Grand Line, Shanks had no need for more money.

“Yeah, I’m thinking about it,” Shanks said, rubbing his goatee. The idea to keep the Omega for himself had growing appeal. Your scent had started to perfume the cabin and it was taking everything in Shanks not to rub his nose on your scent glands. You had a subtle scent of lily of the valley and cedar that Shanks found incredibly appealing. With his status, power, and crew he could keep you safe from anyone else who would seek to have you.

“Well, you’d better decide quickly. If you’re not keeping her, we need to get her off the ship immediately.”

“How much time do we have?” Shanks asked, peeking back in on your still form again. If he didn’t see you breathing and blinking, he would have thought you a statue.

“Only four to five days, and that’s if your presence around her doesn’t initiate her heat sooner which it likely will. If you’re not keeping her, we gotta put her in the infirmary, brig, or somewhere where your and Beckman’s scent is weak.” The mention of Beckman set Shanks on edge, surprising both himself and the doctor. He’d been friends with Beckman for over twenty years and this was the first time he’d ever felt anything so negative towards the man.

“How much do you know about Omegas?”

Shanks hummed as he recalled that he had read a few books over the years, but hadn’t taken a particular interest in Omegas. He didn’t think he’d ever find one and he wouldn’t want to spend a single Berri on buying one through the slave trade. He’d bedded hundreds of Betas and even a few Alphas which had suited him just fine. “I know a little but not all that much truthfully,” he stated while looking at you through the circular window in the cabin door. You hadn’t moved an inch, your gaze still trained on the floor, sitting in the exact position Shanks had left you in. He could only imagine what Kid had done to you to train you to such a sick level of obedience.

“We’ve got to get to an island and dock for the duration otherwise everyone’s gonna be miserable, especially Beckman. You’re not gonna want anyone else around her either.”

“How do you know she’s going to be in heat?” Shanks asked, genuinely curious.

Hongo scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Doctor isn’t just a title, I went to a real medical school. I learned about all this and we need to get her ready. If this is her first heat like she’s saying it will be, it’s going to be intense.”

“What does that mean exactly? What do we need to do for her?” Shanks’s practical knowledge about heat cycles left something to be desired. He’d often glossed over those sections in manuscripts under the assumption that it would never apply to his situation.

Hongo rubbed the back of his neck in thought. “If you’re keeping her, there’s a lot we need to do. First, she must bathe so I can tend to her wounds. After that, you’ll have to scent her. If you want the heat to go as smoothly as it can we need to erase any scent left from Kid and replace it with yours. That way she’s not searching for her old mate, even if they had a….bad relationship. We’ll need to get her soft, clean, unscented linens and blankets so she can make her nest. She needs to eat up - heats use a lot of the Omega’s reserves and she doesn’t have that much left. We need -”

Shanks cut off Hongo with a wave of his hand. “One thing at a time. First, let’s bathe her.”

“After the bath, we’re gonna need Beckman,” Hongo stated.

“Beckman? Why?” Shanks was an Alpha too and stronger besides. Anything Beckman could do, Shanks could do better unless it took two arms. Belatedly, Shanks realized his feelings were the precursor to jealousy. He threw Hongo a frown before he carried on speaking in a sullen tone, “She doesn’t need him.”.

“I’m gonna have to clean and dress her wounds,” Hongo explained.

“So? What does that have to do with him?”

“He’s gonna keep you from punching or trying to fight me. You’re not going to like watching me tend to her or hurt her, no matter if it's for her own good.” Shanks rolled his eyes at the doctor’s words.

“Pffff. It’s not gonna be like that, I can control myself. It’s not like she’s my mate,” Shanks scoffed.

“I’m getting Beckman,” Hongo stated, unmoved by Shanks’s self assuredness.

Your POV

You heard the Captain and doctor talking outside of the door but were lost in your own thoughts. You’d been off your homemade suppressants for a while but you had pointedly avoided thinking about the possibility of going through heat. You had chalked your rising temperature up to your wounds causing you to be feverish. Nuzzling into the cloak, you inhaled Shanks’s scent deep into your lungs. The velvety material and clean smell made you feel peaceful to the point of being a little sleepy. You ached to lay back on the comfortable looking bed and curl up into a ball but he hadn’t given you permission to. You wanted to pass and show that you could obey in case this was a test. Kid liked to test the limits of your obedience in creative ways and you’d learned your lessons the hard way. He would leave food out when you were hungry and punish you if you ate it, or leave out blankets when he’d told you to remain naked and enter his cabin randomly. So you sat even though you were bone achingly tired.

You tried to look about your surroundings surreptitiously while you waited. The wooden cabin was mostly tidy but well lived in. Clothes were piled on a lounge chair in the corner, a writing desk had letters, maps, and an inkwell on top, and a small bookshelf held a few tomes. A dark colored chest had more linens poking out of the corner while the bed you were perched upon was large and covered in fuzzy sheets and piled with blankets and pillows. You didn’t see any hooks or chains hanging from the walls, maybe the Alpha wasn’t going to shackle you to the bed. The room had the aroma of the Alpha and gave off the feeling of coziness, of snuggling under blankets on a cold night. It felt….homey.

The door opened and Shanks reappeared without the doctor. Watching the Emperor approach, you didn’t want to imagine his displeasure at finding you asleep on the bed when he hadn’t allowed it. Kid’s power was mind boggling to you and the Emperor had swatted him away like a fly. You would do anything to remain on the Emperor’s good side even if it was to your own detriment. You heard him approaching you and watched his sandaled feet stop in front of you. He didn’t stoop down to catch your gaze but you felt his hand land at the top of your hair. You winced, remembering all the times it had been pulled in the past. No pain came as Shanks just patted you and rubbed the strands of your dirty hair between his fingers.

“Hongo has to treat your wounds. We need to get you clean first though, yeah? And take these off too,” Shanks’ fingers left your hair as he spoke. He reached down into the cloak and pulled on the chain between the cuffs you were still wearing. Feeling the bed dip next to you, Shanks pulled one of the cuffs closer to his face to inspect the manacle. “Where’s the lock? They’re not welded shut,” Shanks noted.

“Magnetic,” you said in your hoarse voice. Shanks’s face soured as he traced the smooth metal of the handcuff with his thumb.

“Ah.” Shanks seemed to mull your response over for a few moments before he commanded you to close your eyes. You complied immediately and heard crunching as the metal of your cuff fell off your wrists. You desperately wanted to see how the Emperor had gotten them off but you were waiting for his command. A warm and calloused hand rubbed your bruised wrist where the metal had been previously. “You can open them again,” Shanks said softly, running his thumb over your pulse. There were no weapons around and the Emperor’s sword was still sheathed within the scabbard. You could only guess the power he’d used to remove them.

The door swung open and three men appeared, two carrying a metal tub filled with steaming water and the third with a bucket with toiletries. Shanks stood to put himself between you and the crew members, blocking them from your view. “Thanks, guys, just put it over there,” the Emperor requested, gesturing to the largest open area of the cabin. The men followed their Captain’s request carefully but a little water sloshed on the floor. Alarm shot through you at the sight of the water on the floor, and you hoped the Captain didn’t blame you or punish you for it. You nearly went to clean it but you hadn’t been told to leave the bed and the new men were still in the room.

“Is it time for introductions? I’m Lime -” one of the men began speaking in your direction.

“Ah, not now. Maybe later Lime Juice, sorry. Thanks for bringing the tub,” the Emperor said with genuine praise in his voice.

“No worries. Nice to meetcha Little Miss,” the man said easily. You didn’t reply. The men exited the cabin leaving only you, Shanks, and the piping hot bath.

“Come on, then. Let’s get you in there while it's still hot,” the Emperor suggested. You nodded and stood up, shucking the Emperor’s cloak you’d been clutching.

Shanks POV

He shouldn’t have been surprised when you complied immediately, leaving his cloak on the bed and revealing your nude body. You’d been beaten into submission - if he told you to jump overboard he’d hear the splash shortly thereafter. His eyes raked over your form while you limped to the tub, noticing the bruising, the cuts, the marks he hadn’t before. Even in your currently broken form, you were breathtaking. Shanks’s fingers twitched with the desire to touch you but he stuffed his hand into his pocket for the time being, getting closer to aid your descent into the water.

“Why are you limping?” Shanks asked as you gripped the edge of the tub to lift yourself in. You froze in place, looking down at the water. Raising your foot behind you revealed a deep gash in the sole of your foot. Shanks crouched down to get a better look at the wound while capturing your foot in his hand. The doctor hadn’t inspected the bottom of your feet so he was sure Hongo hadn’t seen this one. The cut was clearly deliberate with how deep and uniform it was. Taking a deep breath to avoid swearing caused the tempting perfume of your cunt to hit Shanks’s nose. His first instinct was to hold you in place and run his tongue all the way up your legs till he reached your tantalizing pussy. Then he wanted to rub his nose up and down your slit until the scent of your pussy was all he could smell. Now wasn’t the time, you were shaking and tired and had a long way to go until you could rest.

“Ach. I wish you’d said something, are there any other cuts Hongo didn’t inspect?” Shanks said in mild admonishment. You licked your lips and nodded slowly. You were shaking, your shoulders hunched in to make yourself smaller. “Hey, don’t worry, I’m not mad,” Shanks said quietly, putting your foot back down and standing up, regrettably moving away from the scent of your groin. He cupped your face and rubbed his thumb over your cheek repeatably in an attempt to soothe you. “I’m not mad, I just need to know where you need medical attention. I can’t help you if I don’t have all the information, right?” You nodded, your hair obscuring your face from his view. “Where’s the other cut?” Shanks inquired while moving his hand to the small of your back.

You took in a deep breath and put your good foot on the tub, opening your legs to his eyes. At the very inner crease of your leg, where your thigh met your groin, was another infected bite mark. Shanks squared his shoulders and kept his face neutral. His first instinct had been to snarl at the offending sight but managed to restrain his response at the sight of you. Shanks saw your vacant gaze, shaking hands, and clammy skin and knew it would only make things worse.

“”S all right. We can let Hongo know later,” Shanks slipped on the mask of his affable nature as he spoke to smooth over the moment. “In ya go, Love,” Shanks said while picking you up by the waist and depositing you into the tub without warning. Shanks needed you in the water so your smell would dissipate before he lost control of himself. You hissed when your skin hit the water but otherwise made no movements. “Here you go,” Shanks said, handing you soap and a towel before dragging a stool over to sit near the tub. “You do your front, I’ll get your back.”

You began lathering the washcloth with soap and warm water before you began rubbing down your arms and torso. Shanks maintained a steady one sided conversation while he started pouring water down your back. He was trying to acclimate you to the sound of his voice in an attempt to bring you comfort in what surely was an uncomfortable time. While lathering his own washcloth Shanks saw the formerly clear bathwater turning rust red with every swipe of your hands. As he began sudsing your back his eyes picked up faded scars he’d missed when looking over your more recent wounds.

“I’m gonna wash your back now, ok? It’s hard to wash your own back and even harder when you only have one hand. There are more tasks than you’d think that require two hands, even beyond fighting or washing. Can you imagine how difficult buttons are to do with one hand? Or even tying boots? I have Beckman help me, that’s Benn Beckman, my first mate. You’ll meet him later, you’ll like him for sure. He looks gruff but make no mistake he’s a total sweetheart. He says that I milk it, and I do of course, but what’s the point of being a Captain if my first mate won’t hand feed me eggs every morning?”

Shanks was acting casually but he noticed a miniscule shift in your mouth as he joked about Benn feeding him breakfast. You were close to smiling and Shank’s heart swelled with pride. He knew there was some glimmer of you buried deep within and he was going to bring you back to the surface. He finished washing your back and you’d washed your arms, torso, and legs but made no move to wash your hair.

“Do you want me to wash your hair, Love? I can if you’d like,” Shanks was trying to offer you as many simple choices as possible to show you that he wasn’t going to control every aspect of your life. You shook your head in response to his query. “Alright, go ahead then, almost done here,” Shanks said gently but to his surprise, you shook your head again. “No? I don’t mean to be rude sweetheart but your hair’s dirty, it needs to be washed.”

“Cut it all off,” you rasped. Shanks tilted his head to the side, your request startling. Even male Omegas preferred long hair, it was simply a characteristic commonly associated with the dynamic. One of the most severe non-corporeal punishments an Omega could face was having a forced haircut. For an Omega to request a drastic haircut was unheard of. Your hair was long, indicating you’d been growing it long before Kid had gotten his hands on you even through your time being suppressed.

“Can I ask why?” Shanks questioned, picking up the soggy ends from the water.

“Can’t be pulled,” you answered. You parted your hair in the back, showing a bald spot where your hair had been yanked out from the root. Shanks moved his stool so he was no longer sitting behind you but beside you.

“Look at me,” Shanks requested and you partially complied as you turned your head towards him. You looked at his chest but not at his face. “ Look at me,” Shanks repeated, this time with a Command. Not physically able to disobey an Alpha of his power, your widened eyes snapped to him. It was the first time he’d Commanded you to do anything, but this was important.

“I’m not going to hurt you. Not now. Not ever. You may not always like what I do, but I will never harm you. Do you understand?” Shanks said softly while stroking your cheek with his thumb. He’d done that a lot, he mused. Something about you called him to take care of you, to provide for you physically and emotionally. You nodded. “I’m gonna have to hear you say it,” Shanks said, almost sorry for forcing you to talk.

“I understand,” you stated in your ruined voice. Unsure if his Command was completed you continued looking at him. Shanks smiled at you and kissed the top of your head.

“I’ll tell you what, we’ll make a deal. I’ll wash and brush your hair for you tonight. If you still want to cut it off tomorrow morning, we will. We can have matching haircuts if you want,” Shanks said, flipping back his own hair for emphasis. A ghost of a smile turned up the corners of your lips as you nodded your consent to his deal.

Your POV

Your arms looped around your knees in the cooling water as Shanks washed your hair tenderly. You had been sincere in your wish to cut it - you never wanted to be dragged by your hair ever again. Shanks’s offer startled you since Omegas were often physically groomed to whatever standard the Alpha wanted regardless of how they felt about it. The bath had given you a lot of stress since you weren’t sure what to expect. Anything new, any deviation from the standard made you nervous since you couldn’t predict the outcome. It had been an all right experience but not as relaxing as the Emperor had anticipated.

Shanks only had one hand but it didn’t slow him down when bathing you. He rattled on about whatever he was thinking about while you listened as he worked the soap onto your scalp and rinsed it. He was pulling the brush easily through your hair while telling you about a strange boy he’d met years before when there was a knock at the door.

“Wait,” Shanks ordered in a tone more stern than he’d used when speaking to you. “Up, dear,” Shanks motioned with the hairbrush. The water dripping off you in rivulets left you exposed to the cold air making your skin erupt into goosebumps. Shanks quickly dried you off with a fluffy towel before he wrapped it around your body. After you were dried to Shanks’s satisfaction, he swapped the towel for a large purple robe, picked you up, and sat you on the chair by the desk.

“Come in,” Shanks said, sitting on the edge of the desk next to you. He took your wrinkly hand and held it in his own as you resumed staring at the floor. Three pairs of boots walked past and you heard them hefting the tub back out of the room.

“Blech, what’d she do? Bathe in mud?” one man said.

“Shut the fuck up,” Hongo replied calmly while coming to stand in front of you. He had his medicine kit again and you knew this part would be even less fun than the bath. Two pairs of boots stopped in front of you but you only recognized Hongo’s. The other male was also an alpha though not as strongly scented as Shanks.

“There’s a few more Hong,” Shanks said casually, stroking the top of your hand. “She’s got a cut on the sole of her foot and one on her inner thigh. Both need attention.”

“Alright, not an issue. Let’s get started,” Hongo said while setting his bag on the desk. “Over to the other side of the cabin,” Hongo ordered Shanks, who bristled immediately.

“Nah, I’m gonna stay here,” Shanks said, keeping your hand in his own.

“No, you’re not. Go over there with Beckman. I don’t want to have to treat my own wounds in addition to hers when I stitch her up.” You cringed, waiting for the Captain to slap his subordinate but it never came. Instead, you heard a deep voice ushering the Emperor away from you.

“C’mon, Cap. ‘S for the best. We’ll be a few feet away and she’s a big girl, she can be apart from you for a minute or two.” You were guessing this was Benn Beckman, the first mate Shanks had told you about. Shanks whined in response but let go of your hand nonetheless.

“”M right here if you need me, Sweets,” Shanks reassured you as he receded. You didn’t protest but a part of you did wish Shanks was nearby. You didn’t feel all that comfortable around him but he was the person you were most familiar with. Hongo had been taking tools and liquids out of his bag in preparation for the procedures. After putting on a pair of glasses, Hongo snapped on a pair of rubber gloves.

“It’s not gonna feel great, but I’ll try to make it as painless as possible, OK? Let’s start with your neck, I think that’s the most severe. Did you wash it in the bath?” He asked, using the stool Shanks had previously occupied. You nodded in confirmation that you had followed the doctor’s orders.

“Let’s take a look, yeah?” You tilted your head to allow the doctor access to your neck. Even though you knew he was going to touch you, you still flinched when he made contact with your skin. “I’m gonna clean it and drain the pus. After I’m gonna have to stitch it,” the doctor informed you. You heard the sound of liquid moving and felt alcohol being applied to your neck. Not wanting to interrupt Hongo’s work, you stayed as still as you could even as the alcohol burned on contact with your wound.

“See? Not even a single reaction outta me,” you heard Shanks say in the background and Beckman grunted in response to his captain.

After wiping down the area, you heard the clanging of metal as Hongo picked up a scalpel. You closed your eyes and waited for the sharp pain as the knife met your skin. Based on other wounds you’d received, you knew the doctor was trying to be gentle but you still hissed as he cut into you and pressed on the wound.

“No, sit down. She’s fine -”

“I AM sitting down, but I just wanna go -”

“No, stay put.” You heard Shanks and Beckman arguing on the other side of the room. Hongo was right to bring the first mate, it sounded like Shanks was having a hard time watching the doctor tend to your wounds. You wondered if it was from possessiveness, like Kid, or because he didn’t like watching you being hurt. You didn’t think about it for long as a sharp pain crowded out your train of thought when the doctor began pressing on your wound to drain the pus.

“Not much more, almost there. It’s a deep wound, otherwise I wouldn’t have to stitch it.” You whimpered as the doctor pushed even harder for a moment, then covered the area with gauze. You heard scuffling again.

“Let go of me Benn, I need to - I said stop shoving me!” Shanks’ voice rose with more anger in his voice. His scent was starting to bloom, filling the air with the smell of oranges and cloves in an unconscious effort to soothe you.

“One more time and you’re out of the cabin until he’s done. Stop talking and distracting everyone. You know it’s for her own good so Let Hongo work,” Benn huffed. You couldn’t concentrate on Shanks anymore because the doctor started to stitch. You closed your lips into a thin line and screwed your eyes shut in a futile effort to block out the pain.

“Ah, relax, relax. If you tense your muscles it hurts more,” the doctor chided you gently as the needle pricked your skin over and over. You relaxed your face as much as you could. You’d had stitches before and you were no stranger to pain but the bite was in such a delicate and sensitive area you couldn’t help as a few tears escaped your eye. Finally, you heard the words you were waiting for.

“All done, just snipping the end of the thread. One more moment and we can move on.” Scissors were brought close to your face and snipped the end of the medical thread. “Look straight ahead for me?” Hongo instructed you, facing you head on. You looked forward, your neck aching with the effort. “And turn to the other side?” You turned and saw Shanks smiling and waving at you despite being held against the wall by Benn. You dropped your eyes after a moment too long.

“So what’s next? Shanks said you had a foot injury? Those are a real drag,” Hongo said, trying to make light conversation. You nodded and crossed your leg over your knee to show the doctor the sole of your foot. Hongo reached out to pick up your foot by the ankle and peered closely at the wound with his glasses.

“Knife?” he asked abruptly. You nodded. “Accident?” You shook your head.

“Punishment. Ran away,” you said quietly. Hongo hummed and tilted your foot. You used the extra fabric of the extravagant robe to cover yourself more as Hongo lifted your leg and placed your foot on his lap. Shanks growled lightly but otherwise made no noise.

“Luckily it’s pretty shallow. Probably hurts to walk but it should heal quickly. I don’t need to suture it but I am going to wrap it,” Hongo explained. He cleaned the wound and used long nosed tweezers to get a few pieces of debris out. The digging was uncomfortable and made you try to jerk your foot back unintentionally but Hongo’s grip was tight. He finished quickly and wrapped the wound in gauze and bandages.

“Next is the leg, right? Let’s see,” Hongo offered. Your mouth twisted as you thought of having to show the wound. You pointed to the bed and hoped the doctor didn’t think you were arrogant.

“Sure, go ahead and lay down if it's easier for you,” Hongo offered. He picked you up and you heard the Emperor’s rumble returning, making you ball your hands into fists.

“Oi, you’re scaring her Redhair,” Benn said as you were placed on the bed. The rumble stopped for a moment but quickly resumed as soon as you opened your legs to show Hongo the wound. You were covering what you could with the robe but Shanks only got louder as Hongo came closer to you. As his head dipped low to look at it with his glasses, Shanks’s loud roar made you cower.

“That’s it, we’re leaving,” Ben said, manhandling the Emperor out of the cabin. “I’m keeping this one outside. Let us know when you’re done. C’mon you,” Beckman said, still grappling with a struggling Shanks. You knew that if the Emperor really wanted to stay, no one on board could keep him out. You guessed that the Emperor was trying to allow Hongo to take care of you but the Alpha within him didn’t like the other male so close to you. You closed your eyes and willed this experience to be over as soon as possible. Hongo was touching your upper leg in a professional manner but the feeling of someone near your core had you near tears. This wound wasn’t as bad as the one on your neck since you had secretly washed it a few times.

“All done. Good job, Omega. You did better than some of the men on board,” Hongo said before removing the gloves and putting his glasses back in their case. “You stay there, I’ll get Shanks.” No sooner had the doctor finished speaking than the door opened and the Emperor strode in, carrying a basket in his hand. You sat up and gulped, unsure how angry he would be.

“Out,” he said to Hongo before he shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sorry Hong. What I meant was, thank you. And you were right about Beckman, owe ya one.”

“Owe me a bottle of booze is whatcha owe me,” Hongo said, smiling easily. “Have her eat and go to sleep. Poor thing’s exhausted.”

“Already on it,” Shanks murmured. He placed the basket on the bed as the doctor left, taking his equipment with him. “Didn’t know what you liked, so I took a bit of everything. The crew already ate dinner and those assholes left no leftovers. Well, we didn’t really know you were coming, but Lucky’ll make you whatever you want tomorrow. For now, here’s a little snack.” Shanks reached into the basket and pulled out some cheese, dried meat, grapes, crackers, and some nuts. “I stole a bunch of this from Beckman’s cabin, he’s got good taste.” You hesitatingly reached over to the slices of cheese, taking one in your hand. Biting into it, you nearly moaned. You hadn’t had fresh food in forever, subsisting on whatever Kid remembered to bring into his cabin.

You ate a few more slices in silence, Shanks leaning back on the bed and eating some of the mixed nuts he’d taken. “You want one?” he asked, holding a grape in his hand. You nodded and held out your hand to take one from the bowl. “Ah ah. Open,” he demanded, putting the grape right in front of your lips. You obediently opened your mouth and Shanks popped the fruit in. You didn’t know why but you felt yourself starting to blush faintly. You were wearing the Emperor’s robe, on his bed, after he bathed you, and yet feeding you a grape made you feel embarrassed? You yawned after you swallowed, your eyelids feeling heavy. You wanted to rest but were still unsure if you needed permission.

“Aw, you’re tired? ‘S alright, we can eat more tomorrow. Drink a cup of water and we’ll be off to bed,” Shanks said, pouring water into a cup from a bottle on the nightstand. Handing you the cup, your fingers brushed against his. You drank greedily, draining the cup in seconds. “More?” Shanks asked but you shook your head. He quickly put the food back in the basket and set it on the floor.

“Lay down. You look so sleepy little Omega. Come on, right here next to me on the bed, it’s nice and warm, I’ll hold you,” Shanks cooed at you. Your lip wobbled at the suggestion but you held firm and didn’t cry. You’d spent many nights on the cold floor of Kid’s cabin, your chains pulling at your weakened limbs. Crawling over to the head of the bed, you laid down on your side on one of the fluffy, feather filled pillows. The Emperor covered your body with his heavy blanket and you burrowed down into its warmth while inhaling the rich scent of the Alpha. You’d missed being warm and comfortable at night more than any other luxury, even more than eating regularly. Shanks laid down behind you and pulled you close to his body, draping his arm loosely across your torso.

“Good night, little Omega,” he said, kissing the top of your head.

“Good night, Emperor,” you croaked, already half asleep. One thought tickled the corner of your mind before you could succumb to sleep completely. “The other ship?” You’d felt the Emperor’s boat rock earlier but you were too focused on your circumstances to notice anything else.

“Hm? Kid’s ship? Dorry and Broggy cut it in half,” Shanks mumbled while running his hand up and down your ribs. You hummed happily and let sleep overtake you.

Taglist: @mfreedomstuff @v1ennie @staarflowerr @treelogirl @rebeccawinters @nocturnalrorobin @mochiclouds @cursedforlife666 @epochal-oracle

#abo shanks #alpha beta omega #omegaverse #omega reader #Emperor's Prize #op x y/n #tw yandere #red haired pirates #red haired shanks #Hongo #benn beckman #protective Shanks #tw trauma #tw abuse #yandere Shanks

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vintagetvstars · 6 months ago

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Leonard Nimoy Vs. Avery Brooks

Propaganda

Leonard Nimoy - (Star Trek, Mission: Impossible) - actor, director, musician, writer, photographer and mensch whose hotness as spock CHANGED THE WORLD

Avery Brooks - (Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Spenser: For Hire) - ben sisko absolute all time tv dilf and have you heard him SPEAK... the stage background absolutely shows and it truly makes him a standout in a legacy franchise *full* of incredibly talented people. also frankly top 3 all time sexy bald guy

- No Negative Propaganda Please -

Master Poll List | How to submit propaganda | What is vintage? (FAQ)

Additional propaganda below the cut

Leonard Nimoy:

This is the Spock website, come on

youtube

its leonard nimoy......

Avery Brooks:

youtube

Avery is a certified TV sci-fi hottie as Benjamin Sisko in Star Trek: Deep Space Nine. The first black star trek Captain, he also negotiated his signature look - the bald head and goatee - against haters who thought a Captain should always be clean-shaven. Thank God for that, because he looks devastatingly hot in a a goatee (a phrase never before uttered). He went on to direct several episodes of DS9, use his pleasant voice to record music and multiple host documentaries, and mostly retire from acting to teach as a professor.

TW: Flashing Lights

youtube

with that wonderful stentorian baritone voice he could move from intimidating commander to gentle and compassionate space dad...benjamin sisko is a man of many qualities, thoughtful, morally complex, understatedly hilarious, a lil unhinged, really really excited about baseball, and avery brooks never fails to breathe life, depth and dimension into the character and also did i mention his voice. fun fact he was a professor of theater arts at rutgers while filming deep space nine and would occasionally teach classes via vhs tapes recorded on set, complete with starfleet uniform. he also directed a number of ds9 episodes including notable ones like "rejoined" and "far beyond the stars", and performed many of his own stunts as sisko. stunt coordinator dennis madalone said, "of all the stars that I've worked with on all the Star Treks, and all the other shows that I've been on other than Star Trek, I've never seen an actor so physically capable of just doing everything...every time I'd bring in a stunt double, he'd be angry, sitting on a bench, because Avery was doing so great." he's also a distinguished stage actor and an accomplished musician and singer who's performed everything from jazz to opera. science has yet to discover whether there's anything this man can't do.

youtube

#vintage tv stars poll #tv men quarter finals #leonard nimoy #avery brooks #Youtube

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bigtreefest · 2 months ago

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Tangled Up

Pairing: Andy Barber x Soft!Dark Reader

Summary: Andy has no idea how he’s found himself so quickly tangled up in your web. And your basement…

Word count: 2,756

Content/warnings: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI, dark themes including but not limited to kidnapping and isolation, restraints and interrogation, noncon/dubcon, emotional manipulation and humiliation, forced and semi- dom/sub dynamics, kissing, smut, grinding and pussyjob, p in v unprotected sex, cum tasting, mentions of starvation, swears

A/N: I’m SO EXCITED for you all to read this! This reader is a certified feral loony and such a blast to think about. Made in collaboration with @brandycranby

Comments, reblogs, and asks are especially appreciated!

Dividers by @ghoulbloggerrr

AU Masterlist | Bigtreefest Masterlist | Brandycranby Masterlist

Andy roused from a restless slumber fully confused and disoriented. His head was pounding, eyes crusty, hair matted to his forehead likely from a stress dream he couldn’t remember now, despite the way the cortisol still flowed through his bloodstream. Everything around him was unfamiliar, yet he’d memorized the barren surroundings in the couple days he’d been trapped in this basement. At least he thought it’d been a couple days. Time seemed irrelevant now.

He never thought it would happen so quickly, having been solitary for so much of his life. Before, being alone meant peace, but since the divorce, and a couple days with such few creature comforts, he realized that wasn’t the case.

He moved to run a hand over his face in thought, in an attempt to clear off his brow so he could focus a little better, but winced from the pull at his tender wrist. That’s right, the man with the goatee tied him up pretty tight. His back was slightly arched, shoulders digging in uncomfortably to the backrest of what he assumed to be a dining chair. His lower half was nearly numb from the worn cushion underneath him, tailbone growing sore. He attempted to adjust, just to remember his ankles were restrained, too which yanked him back down to the hard wood.

The hiss Andy let out mixed with the vague sounds of footsteps upstairs. It just barely made it through the soundproof walls, but was easily picked up through the deafening silence. That must’ve been what had woken him, they were coming. You were coming.

His body went stiff as a board at that, no longer groggy, but fully at attention. This would be the time to fight back. Maybe he could finally convince you to return him to his bachelor pad, to his life.

Andy sat in anxious anticipation. In seconds that felt like hours with the way his heart was in his throat, the door at the top of the steps cracked open, golden hour sunlight bouncing off of the drywall and towards his eyes through the double glass doors of his cell, the first non-fluorescent glow to hit him in eons. Andy had never been one to stop and admire the sunset, except maybe on vacations with Laurie, but now, he’d give anything for a glimpse of the sky. Because that would mean freedom. Freedom from this place that he still couldn’t quite understand that he found himself. It was gone too soon as the door clicked shut.

He watched as your bare feet padded down the steps, tantalizingly slow, revealing bare legs under a short, silk robe. Warm food steamed in a low-brimmed bowl that balanced on your hand, the other holding a glass of water with a straw. Your eyes were focused on the next step until you reached the bottom, finally looking up to meet his gaze. It was so beautiful, so blue, but so full of turmoil. You smiled, seeing him in all of his glory, finally in your house.

Your slow stalk towards him was diverted to the basement bathroom to grab a washcloth, before you resumed your walk to the airlock. As you made your way through the double doors, a smirk broadened your lips at the sight of Andy tied up in the center of the room. Unable to do anything but be at your mercy. You set the bowl of food and glass of water down beside his chair and sat sideways on his lap, placing a gentle hand on his cheek as your eyes roved over his face, taking stock of every detail. At your touch, Andy turned his head away and squeezed his eyes shut, causing your face to scrunch in disappointment.

“Andy, honey, let me clean you up.”

He moved just barely enough to shake his head as you lifted your other hand to his face, firmly guiding him to look towards you once more. He opened his eyes again to be met with a soft look.

“That’s better, now, isn’t it?”

You began to wipe off his eyes and forehead, doing your best to clean him up. Andy’s breath picked up as his lips parted.

“I want to go home.”

Your hands froze, just about to tousle his hair, cupping his beard instead. As your eyes bored into his, all Andy saw was deep, deranged darkness behind them.

“You are home, silly. How many times do I have to tell you that? I’m going to take such good care of you, but you just have to let me. The more you learn about how to be a good husband, the more freedoms I’ll allow you, hm? Now, how about some dinner?”

Andy’s eyebrows were furrowed in anger, disgust as he stared you down, pulling at his restraints until he realized it was better to avoid the rope burn that was developing. But you didn’t seem to be bothered by that at all, setting down the washcloth and swapping it for the bowl of food, no longer steaming, but still warm. He could tell it by the way the scent surrounded him, and he hated that he thought it actually smelled good.

As you resettled in his lap, Andy found himself looking in the bowl, seeing gravy, speckled with bright orange carrots and something green, over rice.

You nestled in close, putting together a spoonful of the food and clocking his curiosity.

“It’s beef stew. Curtis is nearly famous for it. So savory, so delicious, and packed with love for this very special Valentine’s occasion. It’s a real treat.”

He was confused by your evident excitement with the dish. Were you trying to sell this to him? Poison him? What was the point? Who was Curtis? And it was already Valentine’s Day? Where had the time gone?

You held a bite up to his mouth, eyes sparkling, but your eyebrows gathered when you were met with sealed lips.

“Open up, Andy. It’s good. You’ve got to eat. Don’t want those plush swimmer’s muscles wasting away. That would be a shame!”

The tone of your voice was almost as shiny as the lipgloss you wore, making Andy’s stomach turn more. You attempted to make another bite, a smaller one of just rice, and put it to his lips again.

“C’mon. Just a little. He worked so hard on it!”

Andy opened his mouth and scraped the grains off the spoon with his teeth, chewing slowly and swallowing them down. Carbs were good, maybe that could fuel him for a few more days like this, and keep him in your good graces. Your face softened in satisfaction to the way he acquiesced and you held up another spoonful, which he promptly refused. You shrugged and set the bowl down, this time straddling his lap and wrapping your arms around his neck when you came back.

Your tone was congratulatory, yet nonchalant, “One bite! That’s progress. I’m sure I’ll have you eating out of my hand soon enough.”

Andy looked up at the ceiling. Anywhere but at you and the way your silk robe had parted where your legs had spread, teasing what little fabric lied underneath.

A grumble emerged from his lips. A mere mumble you were hoping you didn’t catch correctly, as you ran your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck.

“What was that?”

He directed his face towards you again, eyes sharp as his nose and jawline, a killing look almost.

“You’re sick.”

You threw your head back with a light laugh.

“Honey, I’m nothing of the sort. I just know what’s best for you, and that’s being here, with me.”

He shook his head, moving to gesture to the nearly empty room, only to be reminded of his restraints again.

“This? This….empty torture chamber!? This is what’s best for me? There’s nothing down here! It’s just some shitty IKEA rug over a concrete floor, blank walls, a mattress, and a prison bathroom!”

Your face flashed a hint of anger at his defiance before you steeled yourself quickly, replacing it with a look of concern.

“Well, there’s not much down here because I don’t want you hurting yourself, Andy pandy. You don’t know what’s best yet, I’m taking care of you. Once you learn how to behave, there’s no need for these precautions. You can have all sorts of trinkets and decorations eventually. And if you’re really good, maybe you can come upstairs and stay in bed with me.”

His jaw ticked at that. This wasn’t his home.

“I have a house. It has everything I need. People are looking for me! I’m sure it won’t be long.”

You playfully rolled your eyes and your head dropped to your chest, a low, dry laugh emanating from your throat before you shook your head and met his eyes that were full of faltering conviction.

“Andrew, no need to lie to me. We can be honest with each other.” Your voice was sickeningly sweet and dripping with feigned sympathy. “I know you live in a sad, lonely apartment. And that your name as Assistant District Attorney doesn’t get you as far as it once did. Especially with the way you fumbled into success on your last case.”

His nostrils flared with ire. He opened his mouth to respond, deny, but was met with your shushing finger.

“Let me finish. A little birdie told me that you’re going to be let go any day now, especially with the several days you haven’t shown up, without a single call! And then what are you to do? Wither in your bachelor pad, squandering your nice severance payments? It’s not like Laurie would jump to comfort you. But I would. So, be a good boy, and let me take it from here.”

Andy shuddered as you shuffled closer to him, his tight lips denying the kiss you pressed to them.

“Still gonna be difficult? We can move to dessert. I know you hardly had any dinner, but let me give you a taste of how sweet things could be for you, old man. Just relax and sit back.”

Behind his back, Andy’s hands gathered into fists and his teeth clenched together. He had a feeling what your agenda was, and it was solidified by what he saw as you shrugged the pink robe off of your shoulders. Underneath it lied a white, lacy teddy, adorned with small pink hearts all over. So darling and sweet, and innocent. It was nauseating, the image coming together in front of him. The honey that poured from your mouth and hugged the curves of your body, soured by your true intentions that bubbled below the surface.

You tentatively ground your hips in a circle over the dress slacks that he still wore, pleased as he struggled to contain a moan. No matter how much Andy tried to deny it, his body was betraying him, blood rushing south, gaze sucked into the sight of your breasts being pushed up near his face by the flimsy lace.

Your pleased expression couldn’t be hidden either as you continued to hump against him, your hands moving to rub up and down his chest through his dress shirt which was no longer pristine and pressed. As you smoothed some of the wrinkles, you felt the broad expanse of what was underneath.

With a simmering eagerness, you began to undo the buttons painstakingly slow, revealing his faded undershirt. Your fingertips gently, teasingly grazed over the ridges of his pecs, thumbs flicking his nipples, gracing your ears with a low growl from his throat. You bit your bottom lip in excitement at what you were able to pull from him already, leaning in to press a soft, rewarding kiss to the straining muscles of his neck. He really was so beautiful like this, so needy already.

His dick was pressing against your thigh almost insistently with every fluid motion you were making to brush over it, mirroring the growing impatience you felt rising within your belly. Without wasting another second, you scooted back to undo the zipper of Andy’s dress pants and reached your hand in, his cock immediately standing at attention, precum already leaking from the angry red tip.

You swiped it up with your finger and sucked it off between your lips, taking pride in the way Andy’s breaths continued to pick up.

Genuine elation was filling you at that. “Mmm, tastes so good. Gonna give me more?”

His pupils went wide and dark, nearly as much as yours. You could tell his protests were wavering, despite the wispy denial spilling past his lips.

“N-no. Stop. I-I don’t want this.”

Your hand lowered again to cup his cock against the lace that covered your pussy, hips grinding up and down his length. The pressure and pleasure was almost dizzying with how you could feel the ridge of the head nudge your clit. The thin lace was quickly becoming soaked.

As you looked up at Andy, his face was turned downward and to the side again, so your brought your hand up to his hold his jaw, lovingly brushing your thumb over the apple of his cheek. You could tell he was biting the inside of his mouth to refrain from making any more noise, and you simply couldn’t have that.

You placed your forehead against his, speaking in the hot and humid air.

“I don’t believe you. I think you want more.”

You reached your fingertips under the gusset and pulled it to the side, revealing your bare, slick pussy, and pressed in closer, ground faster, watching as his cock was hugged between the lips. When your eyes flickered up to his again, his long eyelashes were brushing against his cheeks, gaze glued to the slick sight before him. It was the source of both his pleasure and his torture, and he evidently couldn’t get enough from the way his hips bucked into yours.

A wry grin graced your face as you took him in. A blush crept up his neck, and painted the tips of his ears. It was everything you wanted to see, but still not enough. You needed him to fully submit. To give in to just the beginning of the pleasure you knew you could give him. In your bounces over his lap, you inched yourself higher, his tip catching your entrance and slipping in with a delicious stretch, finally drawing a moan from the grumpy, stoic man.

It was all too much, all at once. The wet, tight warmth surrounding was him better than anything he’d felt in years. It only took a couple more bounces of your ass against his thighs, slaps muffled by his dress pants, for you to feel his dick twitch. You pulled him out just in time for his thick spend to coat your lower torsos, painting the innocent white material in sin. Andy whimpered, his orgasm torn from his grasp as you rubbed your clit to tip over the edge with him, the sight and sounds driving you towards bliss.

Drained to near exhaustion, he flopped forward as far as the restraints would allow him, straining every part of his body as it jerked and tensed beyond his will. His chest heaved, shoulders rising and falling with each heavy breath, eyes squeezed shut in a whirl of feelings and emotions. Shame, fear, relief, confusion.

You giggled triumphantly at the scene, smiling with fulfillment of the first step of everything you wanted from Andy. You brought your lips to his forehead and placed a kiss, speaking softly against his dewy skin.

“See? I think that was really nice for both of us.”

You lingered there for a second, breathing in his scent.

“Jake will be down in a little bit with a change of clothes and to help you freshen up.”

You pushed yourself up out of his lap. Andy sat there stunned, still in shock with his head limp and facing the floor. As you gathered your robe and shrugged it on, you made your way to the airlock and entered the code to leave his room, turning back for one final look. Andy just barely glared at you through those long lashes, resenting the sweet smile you gave him once again, but the cloudiness penetrating his mind made him think it was maybe a little less so than he did an hour ago. You waved teasingly with your fingertips before gracing him with your parting words.

“Welcome home, Andrew. And happy Valentine’s Day.”

Bonus A/N: who fed us after midnight? Because we’ve become gremlins😈

Taglist: @hawkeyes-queen @ronearoundblindly @mercurial-chuckles @steviebbboi @thiquefunlover63

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