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nanaslutt · 1 year ago

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JJK men's reactions to you using your safeword

Incl: Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Toji

cont: fem reader, established relationships, multiple positions, throatfucking, choking, asphyxiation, rough sex, squirting, dirty talk, aftercare, comfort, fluff

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

Gojo:

Your knees were folded to your sides as Gojo stood behind you and bullied his massive cock into your cunt at an inhumane pace, the pleasurable pain making tears spill down your cheeks. "S-satoruuu-" You cried when he angled his cock to fuck right into your sweet spot, making you dizzy.

Your legs were starting to ache from the position he had you folded in, his hands under your knees keeping you snug there so you were unable to move, completely at his mercy as he manhandled you and fucked your cunt. "You look so pretty when you cry from my dick y'know that? Fuck I should take a picture." Gojo giggled, watching your face contort in the mirror in front of him.

You gasped when Gojo's cock suddenly slipped out of your pussy as he released you from his hold and made you stand on shaky legs in front of him--not for long though. The white-haired man then wrapped his arms around your torso, lifting your body off the ground a few inches as he slipped his cock back inside your cunt with ease as he started up that same brutal pace once more.

Gojo grit his teeth at how tight you felt in this position. "Oh fuckkk, baby look, I can see my cock through your stomach like this. I'm so fucking deep." He grinned, staring at the bulge through your tummy with a fucked out smile. You were caught too off guard to reply. He was right, he was deep, too deep.

You were positive that Gojo was hitting your cervix in this position, he was so fucking deep. His wet balls were pressed flush against your ass, making it so every inch of his massive cock was stuffed inside of you. "F-fuck T-toru t-too deep-" You cried, your nails digging into his arms that held your body as you grasped him for dear life.

It wasn't uncommon for you to cry and whine during sex with Satoru, which is why he didn't take your please seriously, per usual. "Oh yeah? I'm too fucking deep?" Gojo moaned against the shell of your ear, making eye contact with your teary eyes in the mirror.

You sobbed when he thrust harder inside you, his fat tip absolutely crushing into your cervix, sending a painful jolt shocking through your stomach. "N-no really-" He gave you a few more hard thrusts as you cried on his cock, that same fucked out grin on his face. "R-red Satoru red!!" You yelled, squeezing your eyes shut in pain, your nails digging into his arm breaking skin from how hard you were grabbing him.

Immediately Gojo stopped moving inside you, his previously cocky smile fading from his face in an instant as he pulled out of you and set your feet down on the ground. "Shit, baby, what happened, talk to me?" Gojo asked, keeping his arms around your body as he lowered the both of you onto the plush carpet in front of the mirror.

Tears continued to flow down your face as you caught your breath, your hands coming down to press against your pelvis as you felt the dull ache inside you Gojo's cock had caused. "T-too deep, it really hurt." You said between gasps. "I'm so sorry princess I didn't know you were serious," Gojo said honestly, his arms wrapping tighter around your body as he held you against him, his watchful eyes staying on your face in the mirror.

"'S okay, it just really hurt." You sniffled, keeping one hand on your pelvis as the other wiped the tears from your face. "No, it's not, I'm sorry I really should be more careful," Gojo replied, pressing soft kisses against your shoulders and neck, his warm hands rubbing over your body to try and get you to come down.

You stayed silent as you tried to catch your breath. "Good job for using your safeword princess, I'm so glad you said something. Never wanna hurt you like that." Gojo whispered after a while of the soft pampering kisses. You nodded in response, your breathing finally having evened out. "Thank you for stopping." You responded, one of your hands reaching behind you in the mirror to caress his cheek, making him look at you through the mirror.

He smiled softly at you before nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck. "Oh, course baby. Does it still hurt real bad?" He asked curiously, noticing how your hand was still pressed against your tummy. "It's a little sore...' nd I'm kinda nauseous." You replied, wincing in pain.

Gojo leaned into your hand that was holding his cheek as a silent apology before he moved his arms to scoop under your legs, one against your back as he picked you up with ease, cradling you in his arms. "Let's get you in the bath then I'll get you some tea, how's that sound baby?" Gojo asked, tilting his head at you for your approval. When you nodded he leaned forward and kissed your eye, swollen from your tears. You closed both eyes, letting his soft lips kiss the ache in your now dry eyes before he pulled away and whisked the two of you to the bathroom.

Geto:

The dark-haired man's hand pressed against your head, effectively shoving you deeper into the mattress each time he fucked his hips against yours. You gasped and whined each time you felt his hips connect with your ass, the fat of your ass rippling from the roughness of his thrusts.

"Take that fucking cock- take it-" Geto groaned, his one foot perched on the bed giving him the perfect leverage to fuck into you hard and fast. He had come home from a mission particularly worked up, saying something about how it went on longer than he thought and there were more casualties than he would've liked. So when you so graciously offered your body for Geto to take out his anger on, he would've been a madman to decline.

You didn't know he was going to be this rough though. It almost felt like Geto was distant somehow, his mind still in work mode. He threw his head back and let his eyes fall shut as he mindlessly thrust inside your pussy, the wet squelches echoing in his ears only fueling him to fuck you harder, faster, so he could hear more.

You cried his name against the sheets, your words coming out muffled from how hard he was shoving your face against the mattress. "Be good, be a good girl baby." Geto groaned, his head tipping down as his eyes found yours, which tried to look at him through your peripherals.

You were feeling an ache start to form in your back from how deep of an arch he had you in, and his head squishing your face against the sheets was making it hard to breathe. His hard thrusts knocking the wind out of your lungs didn't help. You didn't want to tell him to slow down though, you knew how worked up he was, and you could take a little discomfort, it was fine.

"Fuckkkk- you're sucking me in." Geto groaned. He pulled his hand away from your hip to land a couple of harsh smacks against the fat of your ass, one after the other, before he gripped the fat in his hand, his nails digging into your skin. That's when your mental state caved in.

You could take a little pain, you could take a little discomfort, but you couldn't take it anymore. You wanted to bite your tongue for Geto you really did, but the pain soon overcame the pleasure, the ache in your bones became too much and you still couldn't shake the feeling that Geto wasn't mentally here fully. All the factors combined made you lose it as you lost your arch and tried to escape Geto's grasp, crying out, "S-stop, red- red, s-top."

Geto was certainly fully there now, snapping out of whatever daze he was in as his cock slipped out of you as your body curled up on the bed, your arms wrapping around yourself in comfort as fat tears streaming down your cheeks.

"Woah woah, baby, cmere, shit come here," Geto whispered, pulling up his boxers quickly before he laid next to you and pulled your body atop his, his hands rubbing over your back as you stayed tense, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as you buried your head in the crook of his neck, sobbing. "I'm sorry, i-i'm sorry." you cried, the guilt of not being able to please Geto the way you thought you should've washed over you.

"Hey, no, why are you sorry? You did nothing wrong. What happened baby?" Geto asked carefully, trying to look down at you as you held onto his body for dear life, trembling in his arms. "I-it was too much." you sniffled, trying to catch your breath. "I'm sorry, was I too rough?" Geto asked, clarifying your words.

"Y-yeah, I felt like you were out of it... I don't know it sounds so s-stupid now that I'm saying it out loud," you whispered into his neck, your words coming out choked and choppy. Geto stayed silent, save for his whispered hushes as he tried to get you to calm down. "I shouldnt have said anything i-i'm sorry. I couldn't even k-keep my word." You added, referring to how you said Geto could take his anger out on you.

"No baby, you're allowed to tap out any time you're not comfortable. I don't want you to force yourself, that's why we have the safeword, right?" Geto asked, raising his eyebrows as he looked down at you, your head still buried in his neck. You nodded against his neck, he was relieved your sobs had turned into soft sniffles, he hated to see you upset.

"You're right though, today really took a lot out of me. I thought taking you up on your offer would make me feel better because sex with you always does, but I'm just not feeling right tonight, I should've told you instead of trying to take it out on you like this, I'm so sorry." Geto explained, his warm hands rubbing soothingly along the soft skin of your back, making you relax into him.

"I-it's okay Sugu," you replied, nuzzling your head into his neck deeper. "Is it okay if I just hold you like this?" He asked, softness lacing his tone. You smiled softly, shutting your eyes as you nodded, "Please." You replied quietly. Geto's arms squeezed tighter around you, he wished he could somehow be even closer to you than you were right now, he had this thought a lot.

"I love you, baby, I'll be more careful with you, promise." He said, tilting his chin atop your head as he shut his eyes, heaving a deep sigh as he absorbed the warmth from your skin. "It's alright Sugu, really. I love you, I'll make you feel okay again only by snuggling. Just don't let me go." You whispered. Geto felt his heart swell at your words, how could someone be so cute?

Nanami:

You lost track of how many times Nanami had already made you cum on his tongue. His fingers inside of you had been drilling into your sweet spot for so long you were almost going numb. Your insides hurt from the constant pestering but you couldn't deny that it did feel good, sex with Kento always did.

After almost four hours of continuous orgasms and berating from Nanami's tongue and fingers, you thought he would be done--and he might've if you hadn't just squirted, the release sending blood rushing to Nanami's cock as he was suddenly reenergized from watching your face contort as you squirted all over his face.

"K-kentooo-" You cried, your nails digging painfully into his scalp as he ate you out like a man starved, your pelvis bulging from the inside out as he finger fucked you like his life depended on it, expertly angling his fingers to press right against your g-spot. "You can take it, sweetheart, need to see you squirt again," Nanami mumbled against your clit, too fucked out and absorbed in eating your pussy to pull away from you fully.

Nanami had always been the type of man who ate pussy for his own pleasure, but he never took it as far as he did tonight. Something about you interacting so well with his students had ignited a fire inside him as his brain created fantasies of the two of you starting a family together, his mind using the visuals of you patting his student's fluffy pink hair as you cooing at your own child, one that you had created together.

"I- I can't I can't- P-please-" You choked on your own moans, your face contorting in painful pleasure as your head shook back and forth against the tear-stained pillow. Nanami had a deep blush spread across his face as he looked up at you, the only time Nanami's eyes had left your face this night was to roll back in his own head when the pleasure of eating you out became too much for him.

He looked so handsome, his chiseled face buried between your thighs, wetness messily smeared all over the bottom half of his face and the inside of your thighs, he truly was fucked out. "Just one more time then I'll give you my cock, gonna fuck you so full." Nanami cooed, saying his words like they were supposed to be comforting.

You felt your heart drop in your stomach at the promise of Nanami fucking you after this. In any other scenario, you would've been overjoyed to finally have Nanami inside you, as he always took extra time to stretch you out for him. But right now, you wanted nothing more than a break... or maybe a 14-hour nap.

You shook your head as you felt your orgasm come on, the sensation feeling sore in your tummy as it crept up on you. You were sure if you let this go on you were going to pass out, it was too much. You bit your lip and squeezed your eyes shut, thinking your actions over in your head quickly, to prevent this from going any further, before you decided to speak, "Red Ken- r-red-."

Despite how gone and fucked out Nanami was, he snapped back to reality in an instant, the clouds in his head clearing as he pulled his mouth away from your cunt, stilling his fingers inside you. "Red? You wanna end it right now?" Nanami asked softly, watching your face with great attention and concern as he breathed hard, trying to catch his breath.

You nodded, your legs fighting to press together to escape any more pleasure. "Alright, alright." You could tell Nanami was still a little out of it, but he complied with great haste. Slowly slipping out his fingers he sat up and allowed you to snap your legs shut, your sore cunt throbbing from how long Nanami had been eating you out. "I'm sorry sweetheart, I'm sorry, are you alright? I got a little carried away." Nanami said, blinking away the fogginess from his eyes as he crawled up to sit back against the headboard, pulling your body to sit on top of his.

Your hair was a mess, your face was wet with your tears and your eyes were all out of focus. You laid your head against Nanami's shoulder with a sigh and allowed your body to slump against his, relishing in the break you were granted. "I was going to pass out if I didn't stop you." You whispered, still out of breath as you heaved into his neck, your hot breath tickling his skin.

Nanami smiled in embarrassment as he held your body tightly against his, one of his large hands cradling the back of your neck, the other scratching up and down your back. "I'm so sorry, I didn't realize it was that hard on you my love. Does anything hurt?" Nanami asked. He leaned back and cupped your face in his hands, his disheveled look making you smile weakly at him, how did he manage to look so handsome all the time?

"It's a little... sore down there." You whispered, looking away as you felt your face heat up from his intense gaze. Nanami shut his eyes briefly, slapping himself internally for getting so carried away. "It's my fault." He said, biting his lip. "You interact so well with the kids I couldn't stop thinking about how you would be with one of our own." He said honestly, the already intense blush on his face spreading to the tips of his ears as he laid his heart out for you.

Your eyes shot back over to his in an instant, your eyebrows raising in surprise. "Y-you mean-" You started, your sleepiness getting put on the back burner as you put 120% of your focus onto the man in front of you. "I... fantasize about starting a family with you a lot. I guess it got the best of me today. I'm sorry, I really didn't mean to hurt you." Nanami said, averting his gaze as he spoke. You don't think you've ever seen him so bashful before.

"Kento you're so cute, so so cute." You said, a smile spreading across your face as you wrapped your arms around his neck, leaning forward as you peppered kisses all over his face. Nanami groaned as you smothered him with attention, simultaneously bringing him down with you and washing away the guilt he was feeling. "I know you didn't mean to hurt me, I should've said yellow though, maybe that would've eased you up a bit." You smiled, pulling away to look into his eyes.

Nanami's face scrunched in embarrassment at how carried away he got before he looked back to you. "I'll make it up to you. I promise." He whispered, leaning his head against the crook of your neck as he wrapped his arms tightly around your body, making your chest come flush with his. "I'll clean you up in just a moment, just let me hold you right now." He mumbled against your skin, his deep voice sending vibrations throughout your body.

"Take all the time you need Kento, I'm not going anywhere." You replied. You wanted to address what he had said about how he thinks about starting a family with you frequently, but you decided to not open that can of worms right now, in fear it would rile him up again if you revealed that you too, dream of starting a family with him.

Toji:

"Mph-nghh-" Vulgar, embarrassing noises spilled from your mouth, being forced out from your throat as you gagged and choked around Toji's fat cock. "Take that shit pretty girl- fuuuuuck-" He groaned as he gripped the entirety of your throat with his large hand, squeezing as he felt his cock bulge out in your neck.

You had your head hung off the side of the bed as Toji stood in front of you and fucked his massive cock down your throat, his heavy balls slapping against your upper face, making your eyes squeeze shut as he facefucked you. "Such a sloppy fucking mouth, goddd-" Toji grit through his teeth as spit bubbles and saliva pool out the side of your mouth, smearing onto your chin and his thighs.

All you could do was moan and cough around him as he forced his massive cock down your throat at a ruthless pace. This had been your idea, and Toji had practically jumped at the opportunity to try this with you. You told him you wanted to get better at taking his cock down your throat, so what better way to do that than to give yourself no other option? In this position the only thing you could do was try to breathe the best you could around him as he fucked into you like a fleshlight.

"Good fucking girl, taking me so well." Toji groaned, shaking his head as he looked down at your sloppy face and your eyes that were all out of focus, rolling back in your head. "So pretty." He said under his breath, biting his lip. Toji thrust his hips flush against your face, his balls pressing against your nose, blocking off any last air source you had as he stilled his cock inside you.

He gripped your throat harder, trying to feel his cock pulse through your neck as he cockwarmed himself in your throat. His eyes fluttered in his head as he let your throat squeeze around him, his balls twitching with how intense it felt. Your eyes shot open in alarm when you tried to breathe, but could not.

You were instantly kicked into fight-or-flight mode as you slowly ran out of air. To be honest, you would've been alright for another thirty seconds or so, but it felt so much scarier in that moment, you thought if you didn't get a breath in that second, you would die. You moaned in alarm around Toji's cock, the man just groaning and praising you in response when the vibrations went straight to his balls.

You thought fast, remembering your safe signal as you reached your arms up and tapped his thigh repeatedly. The consensus had been two taps, but you were panicking, so you gave him a couple more than two. It only took Toji a couple of seconds to realize you were using your safe sign before he was groaning an "oh shit" and pulling his cock out from between your lips, his hand abandoning the hold it had on your throat.

Strings of spit connected from your lips and chin to his cock as you coughed and sputtered for air when he pulled himself out. You spun your body around and sat right up on the bed as you fought to catch your breath, your hand coming up to grab your own throat when you felt how sore it felt. "Fuck baby, you alright?" Toji asked, reaching his hands out to push your hair away from your face, his hands grabbing your shoulders and rubbing up and down along them.

You couldn't respond yet as you continued coughing out the flem from your throat, trying to get a full breath of air before you spoke. "Couldn't breathe, huh? Were you scared?" Toji asked, his hands cradling your face as your coughing calmed down, your hand coming up to wipe your spit-slicked mouth with the back of your hand as you nodded at him.

"Shit, I'm sorry sweet thing. Didn't mean to scare you." He smiled at you, the scar on his face stretching as his lips curled up. Your eyes met his darker ones as his thumb slid under your eye to wipe away your tears, his gaze watching you carefully. "You wanna be done for tonight?" He asked, making sure you were tapped out completely. When you nodded he nodded back and reached one of his hands down to pull his boxers over his hard cock before he sat next to you on the bed, pulling your body close to his.

"Maybe that was too much too soon, huh?" He asked, his large hand rubbing the side of your head. You nodded, staying silent as he calmed you down, your heart still fighting to slow down in your chest, trying to recover from such a scare. "That's alright, we can take it slow next time. It was my fault, got too excited." Toji whispered as you shut your eyes and let yourself melt against his warm palm.

"You did so good though, y'know that?" He added, making you bury your head deeper into the crook of his neck, resulting in his smile growing. "Made me feel so good princess." He praised, rubbing your head soothingly. "Thank y-ou." You whispered hoarsely, your voice making Toji cringe when he realized the damage he had done to your vocal cords. "Let's get you all cleaned up and I'll make you somethin' for 'ur throat. You sound horrible." He laughed, ruffling your hair as he spoke.

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slapmeshigaraki · 22 days ago

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⭒˚‧ ⭒ཐིཋྀ "Only nice girls get treats." ཐིཋྀ⭒ ‧˚⭒

♡ warnings: caleb x fem!reader, (18+ mdni), reader is insecure, fingering, dirty talk, pussy eating, begging, crying, dumbification, heavy praise, denial, spit, finger sucking, hair pulling, pussy slapping, mirror

♡ a/n: little treat for the middle of the week. been working on this one for a while so it got a little long,, so sorry. finished this instead of writing my research paper,, butttttt i love writing for caleb so i hope u enjoy xx

You're taking a lot longer than usual to get ready. Nothing seems to be fitting right, every outfit looking worse than the last. Maybe you should just stay home tonight, or maybe, you Caleb needs to remind you just how beautiful his girl is.

“Hey, did you need me to iron something for you? I was gonna’ do my shirt, so—” You listened, turning towards the bathroom door as the honeyed voice came to a halt. There he was, leaning against the wooden door frame, muscled torso on full display, dog tag draped around his neck and glistening in the dim lighting, a white collared dress shirt draped over his shoulder. His pants were held up by a fine leather belt that hung loosely around his hips, the buckle undone. The smell of his cologne wrapped around you, notes of cedarwood and lavender softly calming your otherwise hectic state. The bathroom was a mess, makeup brushes strewn about on the marble countertop, clothes and bras and panties thrown in the corner, heels that didn't match were all over the floor, making for a minefield of a space that you'd been moving around for the last two hours.

“No, I’m good. Thanks.” His brow furrowed at the abnormally dry response, violet eyes studying you as you frantically hurried around the small space, makeup and hair both half done. The dress that he’d seen you in only five minutes earlier was balled up near a pile of purses on the tiled floor now, your skin only covered by a matching black lace set. He was almost drooling at the sight, opting to bite his full bottom lip to keep himself from doing so.

“Everything okay, baby?” His tone was cautious, testing the temperature of the water. You didn’t bother to meet his gaze, too busy wracking your brain to put together a different outfit—or maybe you needed to change your hair? Should you even bother going at all? Maybe you should suddenly pretend to have a stomachache.

“I’m fine, just rushed.” Another short answer.

“There’s no rush, sugar. They can’t start without us after all.” You gave him a soft laugh, brushing off the comment, but he was right. This night was about him after all—a ceremony awarding him for his accomplishments with the fleet this past year. He’d been going over his speech with you tirelessly every day for the last week, picking apart every line one by one until it was perfect. This was Caleb’s night, so why were you the one feeling so much pressure?

“Hey, look at me for a second.” You did, eyes meeting his in the mirror as you ran another coat of red lipstick over your bottom lip, suddenly questioning the color.

“You can tell me if something's wrong ya’ know. We don’t have to go.” You shook your head in dismissal, breaking the eye contact that was quickly making something well up in your chest, tears stinging in the corner of your eyes against your will.

“Of course we have to go, Caleb. I’m going—I want to go, I’m just trying to hurry up.”

“What was wrong with the last dress? Or the four before that?” He wasn’t teasing but genuinely asking you as he searched for your attention in the mirror again, to no avail. A single tear fell from your eye, effortlessly ruining your makeup, a line of foundation erased as you tried not to let anymore escape.

“They just weren’t right. Nothing is fitting right for some reason.” He wasted no time moving over to you, shirt falling to the floor in the process, but he didn’t care. His eyes were locked on you, noticing the way your face slowly crumpled, head hanging as if there was a thousand-pound weight holding you down.

“Don’t cry, baby. Hey, hey, shh…” His arms wrapped around you, toned chest pressing into your back, the warmth of his skin inescapable as he held you as tightly as he could. Your body gently shook against him as you let the tears fall freely now, the thought of ruining Caleb’s night making your heart even heavier.

“You could wear a burlap sack and you’d still be the most beautiful thing in any room, you know that, right? Why are you being so mean to my pretty girl, hm?” His soft palm snaked it’s way across your chest and neck, cupping your wet cheek, sticking your skin to his. He gently guiding your chin up, your reflection staring back at his now.

“Tell me what you didn’t like about the pink dress.” You subconsciously shrunk against him at the question, the visual of your bare skin against him, only covered by the thin pieces of fabric sending shivers down your spine. The little hairs on the back of your neck stood up, ears growing hot—you were so vulnerable like this.

“Be honest with me this time. Please,” he said, voice thick and syrupy like molasses, almost like he was begging as he craned his head down, resting his chin in the crook of your neck and pressing a feather-light kiss to your face.

“My- my shoulders��they looked too wide in it.” His eyes grew big at the confession before they shifted down in the mirror, locking onto your shoulders. He left another kiss on your cheek, then your jaw, next your neck, trailing them across your collar bone before his full lips finally lingered against the back of your shoulder. Your head slowly fell again, before you heard his voice,

“Don’t look away, sugar.” You watched his slender fingers graze across your skin, faintly dancing over your shoulder blades along with his lips which were still peppering kissing over your frame. Your breath hitched at the sight of his body against yours, his tall and muscular physique towering over you, making you look so fragile in his grasp.

“What was wrong with the red outfit, hm? I think I liked that one the best.” Your eyes rolled at the question which Caleb caught in the mirror. You hated the way you looked in the red dress. The outfit accentuating every curve, the short length hugging your thighs just a little too tightly. You felt so… naked in that dress—every flaw you’d seen in the mirror on full display in that gown.

“My body just doesn’t look good in it.”

“Your body looks amazing in anything. If I didn’t think I’d want to break the bones of any man that looked, I’d suggest you go just like this.” His eyes were not the same when they met yours this time. They were dark, pupils enlarged, darkening his irises. He looked hungry at the sight of you, like a vampire that hadn’t fed in weeks. His lips watered at the thought of devouring you, getting to see sweat glistening on your bare chest, nipples hardened under his rough fingertips, back arched as he pressed himself into you. The thing he loved the most though was your faces, your bottom lip almost bleeding from how hard your teeth grinded against it as you tried to silence your moans, tears welling up at the corners of your eyes that were desperate to escape once he hit just the right spot inside of your soft walls. Your face and body were the things he dreamed about in his sleep, but they were also what would keep him up at night while you were away. They were the things that made him fist his cock, eyes shut tight as he pictured the artwork known as his girl. He was ravenous for you—always, so why couldn’t you see what he did? Why didn’t the lamb understand what made the lion so hungry for it; what made him hunt day and night just for a taste.

You couldn’t help but notice the way his clothed cock hardened against you. He didn’t grind into you like you wanted, his focus instead on getting his fingers on every inch of you. Your gaze fell again, embarrassment heating your cheeks at the sight of his digits languidly sliding underneath the cups of your bra.

“I won’t tell you again. Look up.” You did. You core grew wetter, dampening the fabric of your panties at the contact.

“You know…” His free hand ghosted over your spine, causing you to shiver at his touch as he unclasped your bra, freeing your flesh. A small moan escaped his lips at the reveal, his fingers quickly found your breasts, large hands cupping them, much to his enjoyment.

“I’d kill anyone who talked bad about you. I would never let anyone speak about my girl the way that you do.” A harsh pinch to your nipple forced your chest to push out towards the mirror, your perfect French manicure gripping the edge of the marble countertop. The sight was absolutely sinful.

“So why do you think that you should be the exception, huh? Do you think you’re above the rules?” Caleb rolled your sensitive nipples between his fingers, reveling in the way you writhed beneath his touch.

“No…” You whined, head slowly falling forward at the sensation, you body going limp against his.

“No? Apologize then.” His voice was harsh suddenly, as you felt your muscles give way, gaze being forced back to the mirror against your will as he used his evol against you. He did say he wouldn’t ask again, instead, he would make you look.

“I-I’m sorry,” It was barely audible, strained out between your soft moans as you pushed your ass against the man behind you, unabashedly wanted to feel some sort of friction between your thighs.

“No no no, not to me. Apologize to my baby, hm? Look at her and say you’re sorry for being mean.” You tried to turn your head away at the humiliating request, but it was no use, you were practically immobilized between his arms. You looked at yourself in the mirror, body laid bare, chest heaving, ass grinding against Caleb like a bitch in heat.

“I’m sorry for being mean.”

“Aww how nice. See I knew you could be sweet. You always listen so well, my obedient pretty girl.” His right hand left your chest feeling cold as his middle and index fingers found themselves pressed against your lips.

“Get 'em wet for me, baby. Go ahead, it’s okay.” So you listen—you let your lips part, sucking his fingers between them, running your tongue in circles around his knuckles as he slides them in and out of your mouth. “Fuck… you look so good.”

“You want my fingers somewhere else? Been grinding this pussy against me like you need something. Do you want me to make you feel good, hm? Will that make my pretty girl stop crying?” He was mocking you, reveling in the way you squirmed against him as he pressed your hips into the counter.

“Caleb… please,” You said, words muffled by his thick fingers pushing down against your tongue, your saliva dripping halfway down his arm at this point.

“But you’re so mean, baby. Only nice girls get treats. Are you gonna be nice from now on? Gonna' treat my pretty girl better?” He watched as your reflection nodded up and down, pretty little eyes closed tightly, nose scrunched up like a bunny. He was in awe at this sight—he almost wanted to give you your reward without making you work for it...almost.

“Answer me, baby. C’mon, be good for me… please,” His words were strained, like he was getting off just as much as you were without him even being touched. It made your knees buckle a little beneath you, forcing your limp fingers to grip around his forearm, desperately searching for some stability.

“Yes yes I’ll be nice. I promise. Just touch me please.” With that, he pulled his fingers out of your mouth, your spit glistening around his digits as they traveled slowly down your body, leaving you painted in your own wetness.

“You have the most beautiful body I’ve ever seen, you know that?” He pressed a soft kiss to your neck as his wet fingers slid beneath the waistband of your panties.

“Fuck this pussy’s so wet already. I can feel your little clit’s already excited, she’s so swollen. Aw, does it hurt, baby?” His muscled thigh forced its way between your legs, spreading them wider as his fingers lightly toyed with your most sensitive spot, soaked fingers rubbing on each side of your clit. Your hole clenched around nothing, juices spilling out against the fabric, desperately wanting to be filled—hungry.

“Look so pretty when you don’t get what you want though. Maybe this is all you should get, huh? After all, mean girls shouldn’t be rewarded, should they?” You squirmed even more at his words, trying to force his fingers to move faster or press against you harder—something. Caleb was having none of it though, his big hand gripping your waist, pinning you still. Whines fell from between your lips at the denial.

“Didn’t you just say you would be good? Were you lying to me again or does this messy hole between your legs make it so you can’t think straight? Don’t tell me my fingers barely touching you makes you this dumb, sugar. That’s cute… but a little pathetic, don’t you think?” He sloppily kissed your skin between words, teeth nipping against the flesh, tongue lapping at your wounds only to bite into you again.

“I guess you can’t think. Is that it? You need me to tell you what to do, hm?” You nodded uncontrollably, that heavy weight moving your muscles against your will once again.

“My pretty girl with the sloppy cunt. Say it.” His thumb found your clit now, hovering over it, just barely touching the aching button… but it wasn’t enough. It wouldn’t be enough until you did what he told you to.

“Caleb please…”

“No more whining. If you’re not saying what I told you to then you shouldn’t be speaking at all. Say you’re my pretty girl.” He freed your waist, certain that you wouldn’t disobey when he had you like this—so pliable. His hand made it’s way to your half-undone hair now, gripping it, as he pushed your face closer to the mirror, your body bent over the sink, reflection painfully close.

You said it… but not the way he wanted you to. Your eyes were on him, words barely audible, attitude palpable through the statement. Without warning the warmth of his fingers on your cunt was quickly gone as he slipped his fingers out of your panties to deliver a swift slap to your clit over the fabric. You screamed out at the painful sensation, which only resulted in another smack against your cunt.

“Do it the right way. Look at my girl while you tell her she’s pretty and mean it.” You looked at your reflection, chest bare, sweat staining your skin, hair messy from the way Caleb’s fingers gripped it forcing you not to look away. Your eyes were glazed over, lipstick smudged onto your chin—you were a mess, but you said it.

“I- I’m your pretty girl.” Not even a second passed after the words left your lips before Caleb slid the crotch of your panties to the side, fingers pressing all the way against you now. His middle finger, still wet from the impromptu blowjob you’d given it, made it’s way into your tight hole inch by inch.

“See what happens when you’re not a fucking brat? Don’t you know that only good girls get what they want?” You nodded, your head feeling fuzzy as his thick finger forced itself between your walls, its length allowing him to brush against your g-spot with hardly any effort.

“Say it again.” You did, looking yourself in the eyes once more.

“That’s right. You’re my pretty girl who listens so well. My god you are fucking prefect.” You were rewarded with another finger amongst the praise, but he hadn’t touched your clit again. He knew that the second he did, you would fall apart in his arms. He just wasn’t quite done playing with you yet.

“Aw my baby gets so fucking dumb when her holes get filled. How cute… you having trouble with your words again? What is it, sugar? Come on, tell me, you can do it.” His lips were so close to your ear as he spoke, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down your spine. His tone was sweet, slightly higher in pitch, as if he were calling out for a stray dog to come eat a treat out of his palm. The condescending sound made you whine out once again, just like a puppy would.

“Aww am I not giving you what you want? Am I being mean to you?” His fingers quickened as he watched you pant, your palms flattened out against the mirror as he rocked you back and forth against his hand.

“Caleb please touch me.”

“I’m already touching you silly girl? What is it, did you want a kiss?” The thought of getting to feel his lips on yours as his fingers fucked harder into you, his tongue lapping at yours, brought more tears to your eyes.

“Yes. Please ‘wanna kiss so bad.” He pushed your head closer to your reflection, until your lips were only a millimeter from the mirror,

“Go on then. Give her a kiss—such a pretty girl deserves a kiss.” His cock ached in his pants against you as he watched it—the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen so desperate for his fingers that she was kissing herself in the mirror just because he’d said so.

“Goood girl. Good job being so sweet. Tell her you’re sorry again for hurting her feelings.” His thumb finally nudged against your clit again, slowly rubbing small little circles around it. The stimulation made you cry once more as he found just the right rhythm to keep you on the edge as apologies flowed from your lips.

“You must be getting close, beautiful. This little pussy is grippin’ on my fingers so tight. She doesn’t wanna let me go. Do you need to cum, baby?”

“Yes yes wanna cum so bad for you.”

“Aw I know I know. It’s okay. I’ll stop being mean to you since you’ve been so sweet. Tell me where you wanna cum, sugar.” The question only made you squeeze him tighter, your sloppy hole clenching and spasming around his fingers and you pressed your lips to the mirror once more, leaving little red kiss marks all over the reflection of your face. Your hips free now, you pushed into his cock again, grinding against the fabric of his pants, leaving an even bigger wet spot than before.

“No no no, you can’t have my cock. This is about you, just wanna make you feel good, yeah?” You whined louder at the denial, your voice trembling as you shook from your sobs.

“Don’t cry anymore, baby. I’ll do you one better yeah?” He pulled his fingers out of you slowly, despite the fight your hole tried to put up in keeping him inside. His hand’s grip on your hair was gone, but not before he used it to force you to turn towards him for the first time. He lowered himself to his knees, rough hands gently grabbing your thigh as he placed it over his shoulder.

“You are a fucking goddess,” he whispered as he brought his mouth between your legs, placing tiny kisses on the inside of your thighs. “Shouldn’t I pay my respects?” He wasted no more time getting his tongue on your cunt, pushing your lips apart as he savored your juices in his mouth. Your fingers tangled into his hair now, pushing your hips into his face as he gripped your thigh even tighter making you moan out at the mix of pain and pleasure. You were already so close, the feeling of Caleb suckling on your puffy clit, the rhythm just how he knew you liked it, made you beg to cum once more in no time.

“So fucking gorgeous, grinding on my tongue. Go on, say it one more time for me. Say you’re my pretty girl. Say you’ll never be mean to yourself again and I’ll let you cum for me.” He looked up at you as the words spilled out of your mouth just like he said, the look on your face intoxicating as you screamed out his name.

“Gooood girl you can cum for me. C'mon pretty girl, cum in my mouth, it’s okay. You earned it.” He held you still, tongue continuing to harass your poor little clit as you writhed above him. Your legs gave out, quivering as he continued to lick up the mess you’d made.

“Don’t worry, baby. I got you. Keep cumming for me, let it all out,” he said, voice sweet once again as he steadied you with his hands and you rode out the rest of your orgasm.

“You did so good. I’m so proud of you.” He pressed one more kiss to your clit, as you finished coming down, your body finally feeling steady in his arms. He stood up, towering over you once again, face wet with your juices as he held your fingers between his. His other hand cupped your face, thumb softly wiping away your tears.

“I love you more than anything and I want you to know that you have nothing to be insecure about. Even if you’re not feeling your best, you can always talk to me and I’ll remind you of just how beautiful you are. Okay?” You nodded, looking up at him with big eyes, your heart hurting in your chest from how full it felt in that moment.

“I love you, Caleb.”

“I can tell because you let me ruin your makeup when we only have…” He glanced over at my phone on the countertop, “thirty minutes before the car gets here.”

“Thirty minutes?” You shouted out, pushing against Caleb’s chest.

“You’ll be fine. I’ll make them wait,” he said, reaching down to pick up the white dress shirt that had been previously discarded onto the floor.

“And hey, put on that red dress. I’ll need something pretty to look at while everyone else is droning on about how great I am.” You rolled your eyes, letting out a laugh that perfectly harmonized with his as you threw the balled up dress towards him.

“Now you’ll have to iron them both.” He hummed in acceptance, violet irises glimmering at the sight of you.

“Anything for you, gorgeous.”

#love and deepspace #l&ds #l&ds caleb #l&ds x reader #l&ds x you #lads caleb #lads smut #lnds #lnds caleb #love and deepspace smut #lads x reader #love and deepspace fic #lads x you #love and deepspace x reader #caleb x mc #caleb smut #caleb x you #caleb x reader #lnds smut

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hiwasseeriver · 1 year ago

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how the sweater is coming, i have a bit to go at the top and im nearing the end of my 4th ball of yarn lol. this is the biggest project ive ever done and my first sweater but all things considered its going rlly good i was very concerned about attaching the sleeves but it went fine

#my bathroom mirror is SO DIRTY IM SORRY

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sqrkyclean · 6 months ago

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I forgot til right just now. But I’m so cute look at me I look like I need a pair of Cookie Monster pajama pants and a ninja turtles Snapback and a pack of Marlboro reds and a Diet Coke and a bag of takis and the cheapest, shittiest black eyeliner money can buy and a girl best friend I’m homoerotically obsessed with.

just dyed my hair who wanna see?

#sorry my mirror is so dirty

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mrfoox · 1 year ago

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It really takes time before I am comfortable having people over to my place. But also... I hate being over to others more

#miranda talking shit #I am scared people will see something that they find gross or something and judge me #I don't think I live like a slob but I also know I don't clean every other day and stuff #So it's like... I'm sorry my shelves are dusty... My mirror is dirty... My furnitures are filled with cat hair

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thecoochiefairy · 17 days ago

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soon az i get home. onyankopon.

𑄽𑄺 warnings 𑄽𑄺 6.8K word count. blackfem!reader, r&b artist coded! onyankopon, grumpy! onyankopon, sweet!onyankopon, dominant!onyankopon, size kink, black woman, vaginal penetration, lil bit of sweet talkin’, lil bit of aggressive talk, creaming, oral [f], choking, praising, LOTS of dirty talk, squirting, riding, condomless sex, kissing, spanking, minors aren’t welcome!

━━ 𝒄𝙤𝒐𝙘𝒉𝙞𝒆𝙛𝒂𝙞𝒓𝙮 𝙩𝒉𝙤𝒖𝙜𝒉𝙩𝒔 .ᐟ reference to the title, this song did inspire this fic. teehee.

𝓐ᥫ᭡ :: onyankopon pays you a visit when he touches down in the city.

visual. visual. visual.

SHINE N’ JAM LATHERED YOUR FINGERS AS YOU TOOK A FINAL SWIPE TO YOUR CLIENTS HAIR. Bohemian box braids had been the style of choice, 613 the full color from her permanently dyed scalp. It wasn’t a color you would’ve chosen for yourself, but it looked beautiful along her chocolate brown skin. She pulled it off flawlessly.

“Niggas wouldn’t know what to do with me if I could pull off being a blonde,” you sigh, giving a light smile as you’re on the final braid, your fingers moving effortlessly against the hair being pulled between your knuckles.

“They barely know what to do with me as it is,” she playfully rolled her eyes, “How much longer to go?”

As she held her phone up, you took a peek in the mirror, able to tell she was on FaceTime. No doubt with her man again.

“I’m on my last braid, babe. Promise,” you reassure, knowing you’d said that before. You had a habit of creating more spaces along your clients scalp, unable to finish your work until you felt that the hair looked entirely full.

“You sure?”

She smirked at you through the side view mirror, her brown eyes twinkling, “The last time you said that, I had to call off work.”

It had only been about six months since you began doing house calls, meaning you were more relaxed in the comfort of your condo—but that didn’t mean you had to drag with your appointments.

“I’m sorry, okay? I know I went over my time a bit. I just want you to feel…” you turn her chair towards the illuminating mirror, mahogany brown wood wrapped along the outside of the LED lights, “Pretty, hm? Tell me you like it since you wanna complain so much.”

“You want to hear that I love it so desperately,” she smiled, standing up from the chair to inspect herself. She didn’t bother with a cape anymore, her black tank showing off her collarbone and arms. The braids fell just behind her shoulders, “You know I love it. Always do.”

She glances back as you begin sweeping strands off the floor, raising an eyebrow, “You’ need help cleaning up for the night?”

“No, no—you’re fine,” you shake your head, “I got one more client coming. Asked me to squeeze him in,” you briefly explain.

You can feel her gaze against you, raising your eyes to a smirk as you say, “What, girl?”

“One more client, huh?” she folded her arms over her chest, the smirk still there, “Girl, please. It’s after ten,” she lightly laughed, “Who is it?”

You roll your eyes with a sigh. She was one of your regular clients, and you talked like sisters. You couldn’t help but be honest.

“Look, don’t go opening that big ass mouth. It’s Onyankopon, okay? He still comes back down to get his hair braided by me.”

Everyone in New Orleans knew him—he’d actually been successful in making it out of the city, becoming a world renowned R&B artist. You’d been braiding his hair up for years, keeping the relationship you had with him extremely private as he didn’t want anyone ruining your privacy.

“Onyankopon?—You lying right now,” she gawked, slapping a hand over her mouth, “Nah, I got to take a picture—I promise you I won’t tell nobody,” she bit her bottom lip, “I promise!”

You rolled your eyes, “Girl, no. He doesn’t want people to know his location in the city—he hates that,” you take some Lysol, spraying down the chair.

“Just one picture, beloved, please? I’ll give you—I’ll pay you,” she took her wallet out, shuffling through her cash, “I know the man is finer in person. You be trying to be so secretive with these Niggas—“

She pauses, “Hollon’—y’all got something going on? That’s why I can’t get no picture?”

“Girl, what? No,” you scrunch your nose, “I just do the man’s hair,” you began pulling out the products you needed for the upcoming appointment, now hiding your face from your client.

You wouldn’t say you had a thing with him. Your relationship started the moment he DM’d you. He said he remembered you from high school and asked you to be his braider—he also mentioned you were pretty—but that wasn’t relevant to the situation. With each appointment, you never treated him as if he was some celebrity. He was just…Onyankopon. He liked that about you.

“Aht, aht,” she shook her head, “If it isn’t nothing with that man, lemme’ get a peek then!”

You rolled your eyes, “Now you ain’t getting shit. I’ll see you in five weeks,” you shooed her behind with your hands, pressing the elevator within your condo.

“Whatever, hoe.”

She stepped on the elevator, looking back at you with a smirk, “You can kiss that tip goodbye!”

Then she was off, the doors closing behind her. You finally had a moment of peace. You allowed the instrumentals of Brent Faiyaz’ Wasteland to thrum along your living room as you cleaned, suddenly feeling a sense of anxiety. You don’t know why you feel yourself becoming so nervous due to the previous conversation you had—but you felt your stomach bubbling at the thought of the elevator doors opening with him on the other side. You’d never felt like this before.

Then, your phone rings. Your eyes glance down—ONY—it reads, and you have to swallow down the racehorse running within your mind as you mindlessly answer, “Hello?”

“You know I’m coming, right?”

A deep, monotone voice that’s smooth like butter spoke through the phone.

You almost roll your eyes, “I’m aware, Onyankopon. C’mon, boy. I’m getting sleepy.”

A deep chuckle fills your ear from through the phone, “I bet yo’ ass gon’ stay up for me though.”

You hear the elevator ding and a slow creak as the two metal doors begin to open, the phone and your hand slightly falling as you glance over to the tall figure entering your condo. He’s dressed in a sable jersey with cargo pants, the oversized top still able to show the silhouette of his muscular frame. The tattoos that litter across his arms pop under the lights of your home, silver chains along his neck that match with the watch on his wrist. He smells like a mixture of musk and tonka bean—his fro is sprawled around his head, jaw locked as mint gum is trapped in between his full dark pink lips.

You sigh in reply to his words as you hang up the phone, “Imma’ do what I need to do to make my money, you know that.”

He shut the elevator doors behind himself, “I know your ass finna’ charge me extra for me being late,” he chuckled, walking towards the chair. He paused in his steps for a moment, eyes raking over your body, “What’s up, baby?”

Baby. It was a simple term of endearment he used, an accent prolific with that specific word. Your eyes run over him—the ink on his face, the goatee and facial hair along his jaw and cheeks, even with his hair sprawled everywhere— he still looked good.

“Hey,” you give him a faint smile, “Was getting here okay? No paparazzi?” You tease.

“Nah, not tonight, at least. They been on my ass though,” he huffed, “A nigga can’t even go get a carton of milk without somebody following me.”

“They’re just excited, Ony,” you give a soft laugh, reaching into your drawer of supplies as you pull out a rat tail comb, “Did you wash your hair already?”

He nodded to show you he had, sitting down on the forest green chair. You never understood how someone like him could be so intimidating, his gaze being enough to make you crumble on the spot.

On the other hand, sometimes he wondered if you knew what you looked like. Strawberry red hair falling in layers down your back, no middle or side part within the style—it just flowed wherever you went. Your army green baby tee and matching drawstring yoga pants that clung to your body, and you always scented bergamot with a milky vanilla. The cute way your black square glasses always tipped at your golden nose ring, it made you so— pretty.

“Why are you in town anyways? You got’ a show or something?” You ask him, going over to your kitchen island, washing your hands of the previous grease and hair products used on your last client.

“Doing a lil’ sum’ at the Smoothie King center, nothing too crazy. I’m surprised you ain’t hear about that,” he glanced towards where you’d been, only able to see the back of your head along the mirror, “But you stay under the rock. I ain’t even gon’ hold you.”

You come up behind him as you shake your head, “I’m sorry. I ain’t mean it like that— I just hadn’t checked your socials since you texted me asking for an appointment,” you apologize, not trying to seem indifferent to his status, even if you knew he didn’t care about that.

His head tilted, his eyes narrowing as he looked at you with a small smile, “You always apologizing,” he muttered, reaching his hand into his pocket, “You needa’ stop doin’ that. I know you got me when I come here. I ain’t tripping on that.”

Your dark lashes flutter, your reflexes pushing your glasses closer up against your face as you feel your cheeks becoming warm. You instinctively dig your fingers into his scalp, pulling at the soft coils to assess his hair, “You’ still tender headed?”

He smacked his teeth before giving a small wince at the sting, “You’ don’t see me about to cry?” He glared, “You a pain,” he huffed, tilting his head to look back up at you, “Why you always tryna hurt a nigga?”

You roll your eyes, “Ony, please. It’s only been two months since you last saw me,” you stare blankly through the mirror, mentally preparing for the fight he always gave before you actually started.

“I don’t like you no more. You hate me. You tryna test me,” he began, going down a small list of your wrongdoings, “I’mma’ find another braider. You want me to feel pain.”

He saw the look in your eyes, his large hands already gripping the handles of his seat. Every appointment was like this, and you knew it. He got comfortable around you—more than he should’ve—maybe it was because you grew up around each other in high school. He knew you—and you knew how to be patient with his ass.

You flip the rat tail comb in your fingers, “You need the teddy bear I give my babies that can’t handle getting their hair braided?” You raise an eyebrow, “You’ getting on my nerves already, boy.”

“I ain’t no damn boy,” He gave you a stern look—but it only got you to smirk. He grumbled under his breath, turning his head back towards the mirror, “Do yo’ thang.”

You begin parting his hair into six straight backs, PARTYNEXTDOOR 4 now playing each song throughout the album, humming quietly in the background. You were always efficient with your fingers, swapping product in between his scalp the millisecond after you parted. He was sensitive when it came to his head, but after about ten minutes, his jaw clenched as his eyes closed, relaxing under your touch. Sometimes he’d even fall asleep, and you’d just adjust to how he laid in that moment.

You ask him, “You’ excited for the show?”

Though his eyes were closed, he nodded his answer, a low hum in his throat. You honestly loved when he got like this—his head would drop to the side, allowing you to braid easier. He trusted you.

“They gon’ go crazy,” he mumbled, the corner of his lip lifting up in a smirk.

“I’m sure,” you muse, “The women love your big headed ass.”

“The niggas fuck with me too,” he smiled, opening an eye to look over at your reflection in the mirror, “You don’t like me?”

You glance at his opened eyes through the mirror, still continuing to perfect the parting spaces in his head, envisioning the style as you softly reply, “I like you. You know that.”

He was always able to see the way you held back your smile, but his grin only widened as he looked at you.

“I know yo’ ass love me,” he began, “All up in my hair, touchin’ me and shit.”

“Not too much,” you laugh, “I touch you cause you pay me to. Them’ girls outside would braid you’ up for free, I don’t play like that,” you smack your lips, “You’ seen your family since you been here?”

His grin faltered in the slightest, the question souring his mood. You’d grown to learn it was a sensitive subject—especially for a young man who wanted the world, but only had a couple people in his corner. You could see the way his facial features turned stern, Onyankopon chewing on the gum in his mouth before he opened his eyes, looking in the mirror to answer.

“Yeah,” he muttered, “Spent some time with momma before she had to go to work. I got to visit my grandma for a little bit too. She always askin’ about you.”

“Bout’ me?” You raise an eyebrow, “I thought you ain’t tell nobody you came over here?”

But that wasn’t what you really wanted to say. It made your face a bit warm to know he’d mentioned you to his family. So you clear your throat, knocking the warmth of your face away as you correct, “I ain’t know your mawmaw remembered me.”

“‘Course she remembered yo’ ass,” he grinned at the sight of you blushing—he always did manage to make you do that.

“Always said you was built like a grown woman, pretty in the face. Real smart, she knew you’ was gon’ be somebody.”

“She’s sweet,” you giggle, “I’m sure she thought I was one of them’ fast tailed girls tryna get your attention.”

“She knew better than that. When did you ever try to get my attention?” He challenged, staring you in the eye. It was a question he’d always had on his mind, but the fact that it finally came from his mouth made the words almost feel tangible.

You think about the question for a moment, beginning to work on the braid closest to the shell of his ear. You pull his head back a bit to start at the root, your scent wafting along his face as you hum, “Mmm, I always thought you were cute. But you know you’re cute, you didn’t need another girl in line to tell you that. I wasn’t tryna’ be a groupie. But you always had a nice voice, and loved the spotlight. It was meant for you.”

He was a grown ass man—nearly nearing thirty, which had passed the age of embarrassment. But you could see the slight tinge on his cheeks, his ears flushing red for a moment before his mouth curved into a grin.

“You like me, huh?” He raised a brow, looking down into his lap to hide the smile on his face. That’s when he noticed the time on his phone, glancing up into the mirror, “Damn,” he huffed, “I’m bout’ to be here all night wit’ you. You needa’ get faster.”

“If I go faster it’s gonna hurt,” you remind him, looping the hair in your fingers just a tad bit tighter, watching as he grimaced in response.

"Ayo!" He flinched, reaching back to try and pry your fingers off his head. You were quick to let go in response, but it proved your point.

“You don’t got’ to pull like that…” he groaned.

“You gon’ let me do my job?” You raise an eyebrow, “You’ being irritating. I’m not the one who came over ten at night, Onyankopon. You’ got somewhere to be?”

He smacked his lips again, “I was just sayin’...“

In truth, he wasn't trying to leave your place immediately—he wanted to be around you. You always seemed to know exactly where to touch him. That, and your perfume always made his head spin.

"You gon' tell me who you dating, or you got a line of niggas?" He countered, his gaze meeting yours through the mirror.

“Nobody at the moment. I’ve been too busy with work,” you reply shyly, finishing up his first braid with a tight end, moving on to the second patch of hair, “My male clients usually have girlfriends—who want to be on the phone the entire time to watch me,” you chuckle.

“So that means you ain’t gon’ give me no love?” He grinned, reaching a hand behind him to press against your thigh, squeezing it gently. Your entire body shivered at his warm palm along your skin, the hand nearly wrapping against your entire leg.

"A nigga just want to talk to you, be on you. You be’ all shy and shit," he grumbled, "Maybe I will find another braider for real, yo' ass stay bein' mean to me."

You giggle at his touch, even if it makes you nervous—maybe a little horny. You smacked his hand away, “So you flirt with all the people that work for you? That’s what I’m getting from this.”

“Nah. Just you,” he replied without missing a beat, a confident smile on his face. “C’mon, say somethin’.”

You didn’t even need to look into the mirror to know he was staring at you—that alone made your insides twist.

A loud sigh left your lips as you shook your head, “You’re gonna mess around and get yo’ feelings hurt. I’m just doing your hair, Onyankopon. You’ll have thousands of girls to choose from at your show tomorrow.”

“We ain’t talking about them. We talkin’ about you.”

He wanted you to look at him. But he knew you wouldn’t do such a thing until you finished his hair.

So he relented, pulling out his phone to check his messages—there wasn’t much to see, though. A silence had become between the two of you, comforted by the music playing in the back. His fans had been bombarding his team for the past few days, ever since the news of his new album came out. And, sure, he’d be surrounded by girls tomorrow. But those girls weren’t going to be you.

“You gon’ be at my show since you know about it now, right?”

You were now on the fourth braid, pulling his head back a bit to look at his face. Your eyes narrow, almost having the urge to roll them as you say, “You know I don’t have a ticket, Ony. I’ll watch it after it’s posted.”

He looked up to see the scowl on your face, a laugh escaping his lips, “Don’t even worry about all that. I don’t want you watchin’. I need you there.”

When you reach out to knock the side of his head, he catches your wrist, bringing it to his lips to plant a sloppy kiss there. Your heart hammered beneath your chest, an unsteady thump resounding through your ribcage.

“You smoked before you got here?” You question, “You’ real touchy—feely today.”

He grinned in reply, “Nah I didn’t, maybe you’ just real fine today. Every day.”

He was laying it on thick. The worst part? That it might’ve been working. You’re now on the final braid, your body unfortunately hot, and a throb between your legs at the sight of him. He was murmuring the music to himself, his deep voice now ringing in your ears.

“You want me to line you up after I’m done braiding, or are you gonna do it yourself? I bought new clippers,” you ask softly, fingers swiftly pulling his hair into a neat bind.

He looked at your reflection, watching as your fingers moved swiftly through his hair. The feeling was pleasant, the sound of your voice even more so.

“You always do it fine, so yeah,” he murmured.

The next time you’d reach for his hair, he’d stop you—his hand cupping your wrist to bring it down to his chest.

“I appreciate you, you know that right?” His voice was low, but you could still hear the sincerity beneath his words. He was staring at you now, his eyes warm.

You blink a bit at his words, and the sincerity makes you smile innocently.

“I know that,” you nod, “I’m glad you trust me enough to keep coming back.”

His free hand came to cup the side of your cheek, feeling your soft skin beneath his tough palm, "You got some soft skin," he murmured as he stroked your cheek. His thumb lightly brushed your lips, "Pretty lips too, y'know that?"

Your heart is hammering in your chest at this point. He’s fine, full lips moisturized, goatee and facial hair aligned perfectly along his face, jaw structure deadly for him to have his hair braided back. His brown skin was clear—fucking hell.

You give a nervous laugh as you try to pull yourself back, “…You’ still got one more braid, Ony.”

"You sure you wanna keep going?" He questioned, "You lookin' like you want something else right now."

Your mouth parts a bit at his words, but quickly closes as you try to figure out your reply. You then say, “Yeah, I’m almost finished. I know you’re getting antsy in my chair,” you pull yourself back behind him, quickly maneuvering into finishing off his final braid.

He had to give it to you—you were hard to crack. But that didn’t mean you were good at hiding it. You watch his face become more serious than you’d ever seen, it’s a mixture of something—admiration, lust, need.

"Yeah, aight. Line my shit up. We gon’ talk.”

You can feel your nerves bundling at the pit of your stomach as you finish off—a tension now palpable in the air. Clippers buzz along his hairline as you lean yourself close to his chest to get a good angle, your body feeling warm as you’re close to him—you adjust yourself as you softly say, “…Sorry.”

“Nah, you good. Come closer,” is what he says instead, reaching a hand out to grasp your thigh. He grips you gently, but firmly, to get you closer to him. You’re in between his legs now, which he spreads a bit further so you can settle in.

Your hands are trembling. You usually had no issues with this part of your service, but the tension was becoming heavier second by second. You exhale a bit, breathless in your nervous giggle as you confirm, “I’m gonna put some oil on once I’m done—loosen up your braids a bit, okay?”

“Take your time,” he murmurs, voice smooth and low.

Slowly but surely, he begins to rub his hand back and forth against your thigh. Eventually, it begins to move towards the inside of your thigh, rubbing at the flesh there. You bite your lip, trying to fight back the desire to whimper.

“You’ quiet now, what’s up with that?”

He’s really getting to you. The simple touch makes your eyes want to roll back. You admit, “Just tryna’ focus while you’re being distracting.”

“I ain’t done nothin’ but rub on you, you’ really that sensitive?”

His lips brush the side of your ear, his warm breath tickling your neck. “How I look, mama?”

You wanna pull back from him, but you’re unable to. You quickly snatch the clippers back as you sit them on the small table beside the chair, giving him a warning look as you caution, “Ony.”

“Why you sayin’ my name like that?” he grunts, fingers gripping the back of your thigh, holding you there.

“C’mere—Lemme’ taste you.”

You breath hitches at his words, and your mouth is only centimeters from his. Your hand finds its way to the fabric of his shirt, gripping the cotton fiber as your voice is weak, “C’mon, Ony. Stop playing.”

His eyes are hooded at this point, “Who playin’?”

His mouth captures your bottom lip, slowly dragging it between his teeth. You actually whimper at the feeling, your thighs squeezing together beneath your shorts. Pulling you fully onto his lap, he kisses you, not letting you pull away as he cups the back of your head to keep you there. His tongue is rough inside of your mouth, a satisfying hum heavy against your lips as he makes out with you.

You’re shuddering against his mouth, a frown pulled at your eyebrows at how good his kiss is. It makes your entire body thrum, clutching the material of his shirt even tighter. It’s like you’re having an orgasm—all he’d done was kiss you.

The heat of his skin, the smell of his cologne is all intoxicating. He’s pulling your head back so that he can kiss your throat. His lips are smooth as he’s sucking the skin—your body feels like jelly.

Your hand clutches the side of his neck, “W—Wait Ony…mmph,” ” you pant.

When his mouth comes back down to meet yours, he kisses you deeper, groaning into your mouth. You attempt to keep him in one place, but you know you don't have the strength to keep him from having his way with you.

You gasp softly as he tugs up your baby tee, brown nipples dropping straight into his mouth the moment he drags his tongue out to catch them. Your eyes lock down to the way his mouth moves—it’s effortless.

You’re latching along his hair, trembling above him as you suck air down your throat, “T—They’re s—sensitive…” he’s lapping your breast into his mouth, your skin becoming hot on his taste buds.

“Got a nigga acting greedy as fuck.”

He’s almost mad at the sight, sucking harshly and letting your nipples drop out his mouth, milliseconds later catching your entire breast back in between his full lips. The skin is starting to bruise, your legs squeezing against his lap as a deep relaxation comes over you, a warming tingle in your spine.

You were writhing on top of him, your hands gripping his shoulders tightly as he sucked and nibbled on your nipples— you’re trembling, “Oh god... oh fuck..." you’re panting as if you’d run a marathon, biting your lip as you felt yourself growing wetter and wetter between your legs, “Don’t…stop…”

His mouth was almost aggressive at this point, a loud popping sound leaving his lips each time he pulled away. The music within the room is dousing your brain.

His voice was low and raspy, "You look’ soooo muhfuckin' sexy right now. Take all this shit off. Need you naked as fuck.”

He reaches down between the both of you, pressing his palm against the front of your shorts, the contact making you whimper as he groans, “Ooh shit, pussy drenching them shorts—I know that shit glistening all pretty. Nasty ass bitch,” The heat continuously develops in between your legs, wetness creating more and more by the second.

He starts rubbing his hand against you, back and forth, the heel of his hand grinding against your clit. It’s making your head spin, your hips move with his hand, whining softly as he starts kissing you again, lips soft against yours, sucking your bottom lip between his teeth.

Dark brown eyes stare into yours, his expression serious—intense. You jump as he slams his palm down on your ass, grunting, “Up,” your body complying as you stand halfway above him to remove your shorts, allowing your top to quickly follow— you’re now completely naked on his lap.

He’s nothing like you had before. With that, he dips his hands in between your legs to pull you back up in a standing position against the chair, palms locked against the back of your thighs as he scoots himself lower, tugging your body down so quickly that your entire pussy rubs against his jaw.

A mixture between a deep chuckle and groan comes from his mouth as he’s already running his tongue chaotically against your clit. Your lower lip drops open as you gasp, pressing yourself into his arm to not fall, riding his face within the air.

His mouth was a mess as he grinds you down on his tongue, so deep in between your folds that he’s tasting himself. His tongue was strong, heavy, eyes closed as if your body was a rarity. Onyankopon’s facial hair was coated, dripping against your thighs as he eats you out. He was being lazy with it, almost too comfortable within the chair, hands digging into the back of your thighs as he forced himself deeper, nose pushing against your mound. He was choking on your pussy—but he was enjoying every single bit of it.

“Oh— my g—god!” you pant out, gasping in between, “Ony…ohshi—Ony!…” he’s bouncing you against his face, using his free hand to spank the skin of your ass, flesh shaking in his palm. You’re losing nerves in your brain, dropping your face down as you whimper, “You’ in my pussy, baby…fuck…”

“‘Could tell you ain’t never had a nigga eat you like this—shit a muhfuckin’ delicacy, I’m just slurping this shit the fuck up—fuckin’ love this shit," he said, moaning it, slurping, slurping, his voice was almost like a murmur, "Fuckkk, imma’ have you squirting on this big ass dick."

Onyankopon was growling against your clit, a wet noise coming from his lips as he sucked on you, his mouth covered at this point. His hands were grabbing at your thighs, spreading them apart so he could see your juices rolling down the skin.

There was a rhythm to it—his mouth moved like a metronome as if he were making a song, a steady beat as he eats you out.

He was almost high from the taste, his mouth watering as he lapped up everything you were giving him. His chin was daubed, tongue flicking up to catch a bit of the spit as he was using it to lubricate your pussy, trying to make it easier for his tongue to slide inside. Again, again.

His tongue is long, rolling around from the bottom of your entrance all the way up to your clit. He's eating you like he loves you, mouth open, tongue sloppy, just groaning, licking—you’re feeling faint.

He was making a mess of your pussy.

Your eyes are rolling at this point, a discomfort beginning to form in your legs from the way you’re hovered above him. But it’s all so good—you’re spinning. Shaking. Trembling. All of the above.

“Ony….I t—think I’m cumming,” you softly cry, beginning to rotate your hips in a circle along his face as you weakly whine, grasping a hold of his hair as you whimper, “I—I’m c—cumming…”

“I hear that gushy ass pussy, that bitch singing to me.”

At that second—you hear yourself gush against his face, squeezing your thighs against his head, body shuddering like a harsh chill had taken a marathon against your spine. You’re robbed of time to come down from the orgasm, Onyankopon pulling you back down to sit along his lap as he grunts, “Come pull this dick out.”

You whimper in response, dipping your fingers into his pants nonetheless. Your acrylics graze against the hefty weight of his tip you feel for—and it’s big.

You’re pulling, pulling for more than two seconds, watching as it slaps a little over his belly button. Dark pink, a beautiful brown matching his complexion. Your eyes widen a bit, the gasp your throat that wanted to release now caught in his palm as he’s holding you by your neck.

He tugs you forward, “Spit in my fuckin’ mouth.”

He’s nasty. You pull him into a sloppy kiss, letting your saliva run against the tip of your tongue, meeting with his mouth that makes him glare at you, “Freaky ass lil’ bitch, huh? I’m finna’ do you in witcho’ pretty ass. Come sit on this shit.”

“Too big, Ony…” you whimpered before you thought about your words, knowing he was already arrogant.

And you weren’t wrong for thinking that. His mouth twists in amusement against the shell of your ear, hand rubbing along the curve of your ass before smacking it, “You either gon’ bend over so I can watch my dick go in and out this pretty ass pussy, or sit that shit on me.”

Your eyes glance back down—his dick was standing straight up, swollen at the tip, thick veins running across the shaft, and a toned belly for you to grip onto. But you knew he wasn’t repeating himself.

He murmurs, “Go slow, baby. I got you,” easing your anxiety, moving his hand around to the back of your neck, pulling you into the softest kiss he’d given you this entire time.

You adjusted your hips as you rubbed his tip along your folds throughout the kiss, mouth falling open as you whimpered again, his throat humming, nodding gently for you to continue. Your folds stretch apart as you begin sinking down, keeping yourself kissing him to distract from the immediate discomfort you feel. You pull your mouth back slightly to press your forehead against his, also holding the back of his neck as your breathing becomes chaotic, chest heaving a bit as you whisper, “…Oh my…” you suck in a breath, “goddd…” you drag your words so lowly, and he hears every syllable.

“Yeah?” He grunts, “Why you’ squeezing’ my shit like that?”

He’s cooing to you. His balls slap lightly against the weight of your ass, hearing the slick of your pussy as he pulls you back up. Onyankopon dips his fingers into your mouth, coating them before he lowers his hand to massage your bruised walls for a millisecond, making it easier to push his dick back in.

He helps ease you back down, fingers rubbing at the back of your hips as he drops you fully down his length. Your eyes clamped shut as you cried out, eyes rolling as you dragged out a whine, “Onyyy…” all while he sucked on the spot between your neck and collarbone, moaning into it to keep you open.

You pull your face back to meet him, keeping your foreheads connected as he begins raising you halfway up, dragging you back down, dick disappearing between your thighs. Your arousal is splattering in between your skin stuck together, ripping apart each time you’re pulled back up, clapping as you come back down.

“This all you needed, needed this pussy played with. Shit pretty as fuck. Makin’ art on my dick.”

He was getting used to the rhythm, leaning his head back against the seat to look at you. His hands were planted on the back of your thighs, the muscles rippling as he helped pull you back up before slamming you back down, his mouth open, eyes half-lidded.

He was watching you—The way you were crying out, the way you were cursing him out, the way you were begging for more, and the way you were fighting for breath.

He was watching it all—taking it all in. You were perfect.

Each time you protested, “Babyyyy,” he tugged you down harder, the pressure rubbing against your pussy, the warmth of it making you shudder. He’s talking, “I hear you, Mama. Fuck, you drenching my shit.”

His hands were firm against your hips, helping to guide you up and down. He was almost wrestling you, a dominant nature he had coming out the longer he fucked you. Your ass is applauding against his thighs, breasts bouncing, your mouth releasing breathless sounds you’d never heard before. It makes you feel like those final nerves within your brain were no more, wrapping your arms around his neck as you let him take you—pouting as you talk to him, “This your pussy baby…” you whine, softly crying, mewling the words to him. You’re making promises.

“That’s how you feelin’?”

He slides his palm against your asscheek, gripping the skin there as he moves his index finger over your hole, the feeling making you tense. You lean yourself forward a bit as he’s nudging the tip of it into you, using the rest of his fingers to keep you bouncing down. You whimper deeply, the pleasure and pain knocking you every which way as he’s filling you up in both places—he was trying to kill you.

Nonetheless, you keep yapping, “Your fuckin’ pussy, Daddy…gonna come to your show…”

You drag your tongue along his neck, sucking there petulantly as you look down, seeing as you cream on his length, coating the shaft white. You’re so horny, even if he was fucking you at this exact moment.

“No you not. Finna’ be sleep all day after this,” he grunts, “You creamin’ on my shit. Pretty as fuck.”

His hand wraps around the back of your neck to pull you down for another heated kiss, sucking the taste of yourself off your tongue. His other hand held you by the hip, moving you faster, finger thrusting in your hole deeper.

He’s strong—in lost time, he stands from the chair as he places your legs over his shoulders, taking a step forward to place you right along the mirror you used to show your clients their finished hairstyle. He was tugging at your neck, making sure you were locked in his arms as he began dropping you on his dick, making you squeal, a moan spilling from your lips as you whine, "Oh shittttt.”

“Look at you, fuckin’ bad girl. Yeah, look at me, look at you, look at that shit gushing for me.”

He was pounding you from the bottom, his balls slapping between your folds, your arousal making the sound reverberate through the room. A feeling you never felt before surrounded your aura, a pleasure so good that you felt emotional, your eyes beginning to form tears as you suck in a breath, releasing as you sobbed, “Ugnh, fuck.”

He’s fucking you so hard that the mirror across began steaming up, showing only a faint outline of your body. You flick over to it, seeing the strawberry tresses of your hair sticking to your face, your expression ruined.

Your mouth was dangerous as you writhed, “Ony,” a way that was close to a shout, talking through each thrust, “Love. This. Dick. Baby…”

His mouth came to yours to stifle the sounds, hand clamped around the back of your neck. His teeth were scraping your lips, his tongue slipping inside to fight yours as he’s pounding you in place, the sensation making you shake.

"You gon' cum? Gonna squirt all over his dick? Pussy gettin’ tight as fuck…damn…” he groans, locking his eyes down to see himself go in and out, in and out, in…and out.

“Gonna squirt all over you,” you sniffle in a small gasp, unaware of your own mouth at this moment, “Harder—please…”

His mouth was a mess, tongue thick and long, lapping against your neck and collarbone, sucking the skin there, his mouth wide open, slurping the taste of you up. He squeezed your hips so hard that you were crying out. He was slamming himself into you, a groan of pleasure spilling from his lips as he buried his face against your throat, sucking it up as he grunted, “Finna’ have you at every fuckin’ show. Up in the private rooms, gon’ fuck you after every song.”

You’re gone, becoming entirely silent as your eyes are filled with tears that wouldn’t stop, nodding your head to every word as you hold onto him. The silence, listening to the sounds of your skin coming together in music, a sound rips from your throat before you could realize—pure bliss, a scream projecting out as you squirt, the arousal spouting, pushing him far enough for his tip to now be halfway in. Your body feels exhausted, eyes back into staring inside your head as you cum.

And it broke him, he was moaning into your throat—mouth open, eyes closed, pulling himself out as his tip rubbed against your inner thigh, cumming against the warm skin. Your body was tired, exhausted, satisfied.

You struggled to keep yourself wrapped along his neck. As the both of you caught your breath, you brought your eyes up to him, using the last bit of strength you had to give him a soft peck against his lips. Onyankopon couldn’t help himself—You looked so pretty at this moment, yet the innocent kiss makes him chuckle lowly, holding you up more as he questions, “You aight’?”

You press your face within his neck as you murmur, “Mhm,” your eyes feeling heavy, “Don’t think imma’ make your show, Ony…” you pout sleepily.

He laughs at how cute you were being—it’s a stark difference from your usual reserved demeanor.

“It’s straight, baby. You’ll be on my mind the moment I get there—that’s fasho.’”

He pecks your forehead, “You want me to stay tonight?”

Your eyes won’t open at this point. You could figure out the meaning of this moment later. You just wanted to be wrapped in that damn scent of his—tonka bean.

“If you’ actually plan on sleeping, you can stay…”

“Damn, no late night nookie?”

“Onyankopon.”

“My fault. Night, shawty.”

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