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☆ CLICK TO PLAY ! ➜ 450 DEGREES
YOUR LEVEL IS STARTING SOON . . .
level quest : pov ur neighbor is a firefighter, and you love a man in uniform . . just as much as he loves your chocolate chip cookies.
☆ — a message from the developer : hiii i missed uguys sm, i’m so glad to be back for realsies this time :p don’t mind any mistakes or errors & before you read — nsfw content up ahead so pretty please read these warnings !!! strangers to lovers !!! age gap alert ➜ toji is 35 and reader is 25, mentions of sexual themes such as oral, vaginal penetration, pet names such as : sweetheart, angel, baby ofc, princess, honey, etc. usage of sexual terms and usage of terms describing female anatomy, uses she/her pronouns. firefighter! toji x baker! blk fem! reader 333 — word count : 8.0K or 9.0K, i lost track LOL
“fuck . .”
toji cut the engine of his ford pickup and sat for a moment, eyes closed, letting the silence wash over him. every muscle ached with exhaustion, the double shift of 48 hours catching up to him. he couldn't remember the last time he'd slept in an actual bed instead of snatching a few hours on the lumpy firehouse couch in between calls.
sighing, he grabs his duffel from the passenger seat and levers himself out of the truck. as he turns toward the house, a flash of color across the street quickly catches his attention. his new neighbor — you, out puttering in your postage stamp front yard, wearing a tank top the same vivid coral as the geraniums you were watering and cut-off jean shorts that barely qualified as clothing to any old, bitter bastard.
he’d seen you before. many times. whether it was while leaving for an early session at the gym as you walked your puppy, or his moving day . . where he could barely order around gojo and geto, struggling to tell them where they should place certain boxes due to hearing your alluring giggle coming from the house next door, your curls flowing in the breeze as you gossiped over iced lemonade with mrs. johnson on her porch.
his thoughts are interrupted when you glance toward him, face lighting up with a friendly smile as you spotted him. “hi there! nice to finally see you in the flesh instead of just passin’ headlights at odd hours of the night.”
“sorry about that.” toji hoped his answering smile passed for normal and not serial-killer exhausted. “i’m toji, toji fushiguro. i jus’ moved in last month.”
“well m’ yn. welcome to the neighborhood!” you propped a hand on one cocked hip, thoughtlessly drawing his eye to the thickness of your legs that almost looked golden in the sun lighting.
jesus.
realizing he was staring, he jerks his gaze back to your face, feeling his neck heat up at the idea of you catching on. “thanks. s’ a nice area. quiet.”
“i like to think we're a pretty welcomin’ bunch. in fact . . .” you bite your lip, looking almost shy for a second. “i was plannin’ to do some baking later, as a housewarming gift for all the newbies. any requests? cookies, muffins, scones? i make a mean cinnamon roll too.”
an unexpected warmth kindled in toji’s chest at the kindness of the offer. even as his stomach rumbled in anticipation, he couldn't remember the last time someone had gone out of their way to do something nice for him. sadly, baked goods didn't really tend to hold up well on 24-hour shifts.
“that’s really sweet of you, thanks. i love a good chocolate chip cookie, but i’ll happily be your guinea pig for anything.”
“sounds like a plan.” you graced him with another one of those classic, southern hospitality miles. “i’ll surprise you. they’ll be over before you know it!”
“looking forward to it. i better let you get back to . .” he waves a hand vaguely at the riot of flowers on your lawn, colors and smells galore.
“oh, right. see you soon then. welcome home!” with a small wave, you bend to retrieve the watering can, giving him an unobstructed view of her perky ass in those obscenely small shorts.
strangling a groan, toji spun on his heel and double-timed it into the house before you caught him ogling you like a creep. so much for a quiet neighborhood, he thought ruefully as the door shut behind him. you were gonna’ be one hell of a distraction, though some traitorous part of him looked forward to the temptation. it’d been way too long since he'd been around a pretty girl. maybe that's what all this edginess was - his libido waking up and taking notice after a long dry spell.
well, he'd just have to keep any wayward urges in check. no matter how mouthwatering you looked in tiny cutoffs, you were practically a decade younger and a neighbor, at that. off limits. he’d accept your baked goods, enjoy a little innocent flirting, but anything more was out of the question.
resolved, he headed for the shower, already counting the minutes until he could taste whatever delights you were whipping up for him.
the next morning, toji was on his second cup of coffee, basking in the rare luxury of an empty day ahead with no responsibilities, when the doorbell chimed. he opened it to find you, juggling a huge wicker basket with an equally enormous smile. the sweet scent of sugar, vanilla and chocolate wafted out to tease his nostrils so blissfully, just like how your sheer presence teased . . . other parts of him.
“g’mornin’,” you chirped. “i come bearing gifts from the sugar fairy.”
“so i smell . .” his mouth waters as he relieves you of the basket and ushers you inside, noting how your flowered sundress set off your peaches-and-cream personality. no shorts today, but the dress was nearly as enticing as it grasped on to your curves. he wondered if your skin would taste as good as you smelled, then mentally slapped himself.
down boy.
“i hope you don't mind me just droppin’ by like this. i wanted to catch you before you got busy.” your smile faltered slightly as you glanced around the spartan space with its generic bachelor furniture and decided lack of personal touches. “if s’ not a good time . .”
toji set the basket on the coffee table and turned to her, hands raised in mock surrender. “you came to my house bearin’ gifts of dessert. trust me, it's never gonna’ be a bad time. i may actually make some sort of sugar delivery beacon to summon you in the future.”
your laugh sounded a little relieved. “aww cute, sounds like my kind of bat signal. i’ll have to get you a spotlight shaped like a cupcake.”
“make it a cookie and you've got yourself a deal.” he grinned at you. “can i interest you in some coffee to go with whatever magic you've got in there? smells incredible.”
“coffee would be great, thank you.”
he led the way into the kitchen, noting how you took in details like the depressing lack of clutter and decoration. the only personal items were a handful of framed photos stuck to the fridge - him and his siblings as kids, his parents' wedding portrait, shots of fishing trips with his buddies — one with snow-white hair and the other with black. it struck him how sterile the space was, more like a way station than a home.
you didn't comment on it, instead you just leaned a hip on the counter and watched him pour a darkened substance into a ‘worlds worst morning person’ mug. there’s a comforting silence as he catches a whiff of your light perfume over the powerful espresso aroma - something floral and citrusy. it suited you.
“i wasn't sure what kind of treats you'd like, so i made a sampler of my greatest hits,” you say brightly. at his gesture, you unpack the basket, setting containers and various utensils on the table. “okay so . . we’ve got triple chocolate chip cookies, blueberry muffins, apple cinnamon scones, and my famous brown butter cinnamon rolls.”
“good lord,” toji shook his head in awe. “you made all this yesterday? after we spoke? do you even sleep?”
you laugh and accept the steaming mug he offered. “who needs sleep when there's sugar? besides, baking relaxes me. i love seeing people enjoy my creations.”
as if on cue, his stomach rumbles loudly, and you bit your lip against a smile. “sounds like someone's ready for a taste test. don’t be shy . . dig in.”
toji didn't need to be told twice. he selected a cinnamon roll, still warm from the oven, and bit in with a moan that would've been beyond embarrassing if his mouth wasn't full of heaven. “shit . . think i jus’ found my religion.”
you giggled that giggle that’d been stuck in his head since the day he heard it. “the cinnamon rolls tend to inspire a cult-like devotion. you haven't even tried em’ with the cream cheese frosting yet.”
he halted with the pastry halfway to his mouth for another rapturous bite. “there’s frosting too?”
in answer, you pulled a container from the basket with a flourish. “i figured you could handle adding your own so it didn't get soggy.”
“you’re an angel.” he slathered a generous amount of fluffy white frosting on the roll, not even caring that he probably looked like an overexcited kid.
watching him take another blissful bite, you cradled your coffee mug in both hands. “soo . . what d’you do that keeps you gettin’ home at such odd hours? i promise m’ not stalking you, but it's a quiet street. hard not to notice the comings and goings.”
toji washed down the sticky-sweet mouthful with a swig of coffee. “i’m a firefighter. we work 24-hour shifts, so my schedule can be pretty unpredictable."
interest sparked in your eyes. “really? that’s so cool! i bet you have some amazing stories.”
“eh. a few,” he allowed. truthfully he tried not to dwell on some of the things he'd seen, the memories that still occasionally jolted him awake in a cold sweat during the night. “it’s rewarding work, but not exactly a picnic for the social life.”
you give him a sympathetic look over the rim of her mug. “i can imagine. is that why you moved? needed a fresh start?”
“somethin’ like that. the job costed me my marriage a couple years back. got tired of walkin’ around the old place alone, so i thought a change of scenery might do me good.”
change of scenery in deed. toji even went as far as to relocate to a different state after his divorce with his wife. even the landscaping around the city had become too much of a heartache. what was once a happy, sensual marriage quickly turned sour the moment toji began working more. the position as chief hadn’t sounded that horrible in his head, but if he knew he’d come home one night - the clock reading exactly 3:17 am, to an unrecognizable man fast asleep in his bed, naked next to his wife, that that position could’ve waited. could’ve been passed on.
there’s a silent second between you two, your face still, “i-im so sorry,” you say softly, and toji feels relief when he sees that your eyes were warm with understanding, free of the pity he'd come to dread whenever his divorce came up in any other conversation he’d have with someone who didn’t know him.
he shrugged. “it is what it is. we married too young, grew apart. my hours didn't help. no hard feelings though.” he mustered up a wry smile. “what about you? you’re a little young to be living the retired grandma life, baking up a storm in the 'burbs.”
you grin, allowing him to lighten the mood. “hey, hey, hey, this grandma can party with the best of em’! fyi, i stayed up past 10 last saturday watching bad girls club.”
toji clutches his chest in feigned shock. “damn, so scandalous! what was the special occasion?”
“all have you know . . i was trying to perfect a new macaron recipe. passionfruit with dark chocolate ganache. they’re a fickle mistress though - one minute too long in the oven and they're as dry as bones.”
“sounds like bakin’ is more than jus’ a hobby for you,” he observed.
you toy with your mug. “it’s my whole life, really. i’m in my second year of culinary school, specializing in pastry arts. when i graduate, i’m hoping to open my own bakery. somewhere people feel welcome and cared for. a safe space, i suppose.” he stares, and you duck your head with an embarrassed laugh. “sorry for the tangent . . it probably sounds so silly.”
“not at all.” toji found himself impressed by the passion and dedication evident in your voice. you had a dream and you were going after it. he remembered that feeling. before the reality of adulthood had started chipping away at his own youthful idealism.
he wanted to say something to encourage you, to protect that light shining in your eyes for as long as possible. “for what it's worth, i think you're gonna’ be amazing,” he told you seriously, holding your gaze. “if this morning’s haul is any indication, you'll have lines around the block.”
you shield your smiling face sweetly. “that’s kind of you to say. i appreciate the vote of confidence. speaking of . .” you hesitate, then forge ahead. “m’ actually working on developing an original signature recipe for my final. multiple components, flavors, textures. the works.”
“sounds ambitious,” he said, eyebrows raised. “what’d you have in mind?”
your eyes sparkle with enthusiasm at the question, the thought of genuine curiosity making your heart flutter. “deconstructed black forest cake. dark chocolate cake, kirsch-soaked cherries, vanilla bean whipped cream. i wanna’ play with it, update it. maybe turn it into a trifle or a parfait of some sort.”
toji was no culinary expert. hell - he didn’t even know what half of those things were, but even he could tell you were on to something special. “that’s incredible, yn. lemme’ guess - you need a guinea pig?”
you bite your lip nervously, smile turning impish. “i didn't wanna’ impose, but since you offered the other day . . how would you like to be my official taste-tester? i can't really pay you, but you'll get free rein to sample every variation.”
“where do i sign up?” he was only half joking. even if your creations turned out to be awful, which he highly doubted, any excuse to spend more time with you sounded like a win.
you laugh. “i think i can waive the usual application process on account of the fact that you're doing me a huge favor. plus, it means you won't be able to avoid me constantly showing up at your door to force-feed you desserts.”
“oh no. however will i cope.” he feigned a put-upon sigh.
you shot him a look of amused reproof as she packed up the empty containers. “try to contain your disappointment. i promise to space out surprise sugar bombings. wouldn’t wanna’ make you sick of me or my baking."
“i don’t really think i ever could . . to be honest,” he declared firmly. on impulse, he reaches out to still your fluttering hands with his own. your skin was so soft and warm, sending a tingle zipping up his arm. your breath pauses at the contact and your eyes flew to his, startled.
“i mean it,” he said, voice gone low and intent as he tries to infuse sincerity into every word. “i can't imagine ever getting tired of you. or your company.”
for a suspended moment you just stare at each other in silence. then you swallow, sounding a little breathless as you replied, “likewise. m’ really glad you moved in, toji.”
“me too,” he said roughly. and though he knew he shouldn't, that he was venturing into dangerous territory, he allowed himself to stroke the delicate bones of your wrist with his thumb. just once, to feel your shiver lightly in response. then he released you and stepped back, moving to hold the door open for you in unspoken signal.
“i’ll get out of your hair now,” you murmured as you gathered the empty basket with hands that trembled just slightly. “but i’ll see you soon? for taste testing purposes, of course.”
“absolutely,” he confirmed. “anytime. y’know where to find me.”
with a final nod and smile, you slipped out the door. he watched you go, admiring the sway of your hips, the bounce of your hair, already counting the minutes until he'd see you again.
you were gonna’ end him, so so sweetly too., he realized with a trace of fatalism.
but what a way to go, huh? death by cinnamon rolls.
the day of the first official tasting arrived, and toji found himself unaccountably nervous as he approached your door. he felt a like an awkward kid picking up his prom date, palms sweaty and heart knocking around his ribs. which was ridiculous. this wasn't a date. just two neighbors getting together to sample some sweets. totally casual.
never mind that he'd changed his shirt three times, vacillating between wanting to look nice for you and not wanting to seem like he was trying too hard. he’d finally settled on a plain black tee and his least disreputable pair of jeans, adding a hint of cologne as an afterthought.
now, standing on your stoop, he wished he'd brought something. flowers maybe — lillie’s like the ones in your garden, or perhaps wine. did people bring wine to taste testing sessions? probably not. you’d most likely think he was a presumptuous idiot.
shaking his head at his own weird bout of nerves, he raised his hand to knock. before his knuckles could connect, the door swung open to reveal you, looking adorably pretty and flustered. you were wearing a frilly pink apron over a gauzy white sundress scattered with tiny red cherries. your hair was bundled on top of your head in a haphazard knot, loose curls escaping to dance around your swelled cheeks. a dusting of cocoa powder streaked one of them.
“toji - oh, you’re right on time! m’ runnin’ a bit behind, so sorry. come on in.” you stepped back to let him enter and he caught a blend of tantalizing scents - rich chocolate, sweet cherries, warm vanilla, and underneath, the subtle floral musk that was purely you. it made his head swim and his stomach clench with a hunger that had absolutely nothing to do with the promise of dessert.
he followed you into the kitchen, blinking a bit as he took in the transformation. when he'd helped you carry in groceries a few days ago, the room had been tidy and quaint, with cheerful yellow walls and kitschy retro appliances. now every surface was strewn with baking detritus - bowls, whisks, spatulas, piping bags. the air was hazy with a fine mist of flour and powdered sugar, swirling in the slanting sunlight.
incongruously delicate paper doilies serving as placemats were scattered with miniature cakes, puddles of sauce, and billows of snowy cream. it looked like a fancy bakery had exploded all over the place.
“as you can see, i’ve been experimenting with a few different iterations of the concept,” you said with a small smile, waving a hand at the sugary chaos. “couldn’t settle on just one. i thought i’d get your input n’ then we could narrow it down together.”
“i’m at your service,” he told you gallantly, skating his gaze over the counter. “i’ll warn you though, my palate isn't exactly refined. you might end up with the bland 'it all tastes good' as feedback.”
you giggled. “i’ll take it. okay, let's start basic.” you gestured for him to take a seat at the flour-dusted table and set a plate in front of him. on it perched a generous slice of cake, glossy with ganache, accompanied by a scarlet swoosh of what he assumed was the cherry compote. a dollop of whipped cream, flecked with black speckles, completing the overall masterpiece look.
toji quickly picked up the fork and took a bite, closing his eyes to focus on the flavors. the cake was intensely chocolate, the ganache dark and silky. tart-sweet cherries burst on his tongue, balanced by the subtle fragrance of the vanilla-specked cream.
“damn,” he mumbled around the mouthful. “fuckin’ fantastic, yn.”
you beam, looking relieved. “yeah? the cake recipe took a while to get right. i wanted something more . . . complex than a standard chocolate cake, so i used black cocoa powder to really amp up the flavor. n’ i even added a little coffee to enhance the chocolate.”
“s’ a winner,” he assured you. “i dunno’ how you could improve on it, honestly.”
“oh i have a few ideas,” your smile turned mysterious. “you haven't seen anything yet.”
over the next hour, you walked him through several variations. chocolate cake layered with cherry compote and kirsch-soaked chocolate cake crumbs, topped with cocoa whipped cream. dark chocolate and cherry bread pudding drizzled with cherry coulis. chocolate panna cotta with drunken cherries and cherry gelée . . . and toji sampled them all, humming with pleasure while you watched him anxiously. your initial nerves seemed to melt away as you lost yourself in describing the ins and outs of each dish - the technical challenges, the way certain flavors complemented or contrasted, ideas for garnishes and plating.
he found himself captivated by your intensity, the way your whole being lit up when you talked about your craft. it was more than just a job or a hobby for you . . . it was a calling. he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt that kind of soul-deep passion for anything. couldn’t take his eyes off the way your slender hands sketched shapes in the air, punctuating your words. delicate, clever hands that created so much beauty.
“earth to toji,” teased, waving one of those mesmerizing hands in front of his face. “did i lose you? too much of a sugar crash?”
toji blinked and refocused on your amused expression, realizing he'd been caught woolgathering like an idiot. “sorry, just slipped into a brief dessert coma. what were you saying?”
“i was asking what you think of this last one. it’s the more . . . wildcard of the bunch.” you pushed a small glass toward him. it looked like a miniature trifle, with layers of cake and cream, a vivid cherry layer in the middle, and a fan of shaved chocolate on top.
he dug in and had to suppress an absolutely obscene moan. the combination was incredible - velvety smooth, creamy, rich, and fruity, with a kick from what had to be a generous glug of kirsch. sweet but not cloying, a sophisticated twist on a classic.
“i think we have a winner,” he managed, not even caring that his voice came out husky. “if you're going for adding a 'wow' factor, this is it.”
you stand on your tippy-toes, looking hopeful. “you think? i couldn't decide if it was too out there. verrines aren't exactly traditional black forrest cake material.”
“doesn’t matter. it’s a showstopper. interesting to look at, fun to eat, n’ the flavor is phenomenal.” he scraped the glass clean with his spoon, not wanting to waste a drop.
your smile could've lit up the city block. “thank you, toji. you don't know how much it means to me, you bein’ here. lettin’ me talk your ear off and stuff you with treats. it really . . helps a lot."
“believe me, it's my pleasure,” he said, returning her smile with one of his own. “i haven't had this much fun in . . i can't even remember how long. i like seein’ you in your element.”
you both just grin goofily at each other for a moment, the air feeling thicker. then you hopped up and began clearing the table, stacking dishes and bustling around the small space.
“y’know i feel bad, you feedin’ me all these goodies without me contributing anything,” toji said, rising to help. “at least lemme’ take you out for a meal that isn't 90% butter and sugar. you must be sick of cookin’, day in and day out.”
you slanted him a glance, tucking a stray curl behind one ear. “m’ not, actually. it never feels like a chore. but i . . wouldn't say no to dinner out. if you're sure you don't mind.”
mind? he’d been trying to come up with an excuse to spend more time with you, and here you were gift wrapping one for him. “i’d love to,” he said firmly. “s’ the least i can do. and i’d like to hear more about this final project of yours. when do you present it?”
“next month,” a shadow crossed your expressive face, there and gone in a blink. “m’ tryin’ not to think too much about it yet. one step at a time, y’know?”
he recognized that look. the flickering uncertainty, the hint of stage fright. he’d worn it himself, back before his first real fire. wanting so badly to prove himself, to show what he was made of, terrified of choking.
impulsively, he reached for your hand, halting her flitting movements. your fingers curled reflexively around his, warm and strong. “look at me . . . you got this. you’re a star, you're gonna’ impress the hell outta’ your professors.”
you swallowed hard, eyes searching his. looking for the belief you couldn't quite muster on your own. “i hope so. i want it so much, toji. this . . all of it. it’s all i’ve ever wanted.”
“then don't let fear hold you back,” he told you gently. “don’t doubt yourself. you have a gift, mama. i know m’ a dumb scrub who can barely tell a macaron from a macaroon, but even i can see that you were born for this shit.”
your hand squeezed his, almost painfully tight. from both the nickname rolling off his tongue so elegantly and the encouragement that you sometimes failed to receive from your closest peers. “thank you, seriously,” you whispered. “for believin’ in me, i guess. it means a lot to me . . .”
he squeezes back, thumb sweeping over your knuckles. he had a sudden, wild urge to haul your into his arms. to soothe the worry from your brow with his lips, to show you with his hands and body and breath how special you were. how much he'd come to care for you in such a short time.
but he couldn't. however strong the pull, however much he wanted to cross that line, he knew it would be a mistake. you weren’t for him, this shining woman with stardust in her eyes. and he was in no position to offer you anything real. he needed to remember that.
so he contented himself with a soft “anytime,” and released your hand, stepping back to a safer distance. “now, about that dinner. friday work for you?”
you blinked, then hitched your smile back into place. it wobbled a bit at the edges, but he pretended not to notice. “friday’s great. s’ a . . . plan.”
even through the awkwardness, the unspoken words clogging the air between you, a little thrill went through him. it’s a date, you’d almost said. and god help him, he wished it was — that’s why you settled on making plans to try the new, cozy italian restaurant that had opened downtown, the one you’d mentioned wanting to visit after a neighborhood watch meeting one night. it was intimate . . . romantic. toji walked home with a lightness in his step, an unfamiliar flutter in his gut. he was in trouble, he knew he was. you were trouble in ways he hadn't encountered before. you made him feel too much.
more than he ever had.
but he was in too deep to back out now. all he could do was try to keep a clear head, keep things casual and platonic. be your friend and supporter, nothing more. his life, his job . . there was no room for complications.
even if he was beginning to suspect it was already far too late.
the days leading up to friday passed in a blur of anticipation and nerves, though toji did his best to ignore both. ‘it isn’t a date. she’s not into you. this isnt a fuckin’ date . . .’ he reminded himself sternly, no matter how much his idiot heart wanted to pretend otherwise. just dinner between neighbors. a thank you for your tireless taste testing efforts. nothing to get all hot n’ bothered about.
so then why the fuck had he changed outfits half a dozen times before settling on the nicest button-down he owned and a new pair of dark wash jeans? why had he agonized over whether to bring flowers or wine or both . . again? this was so embarrassing. he was so embarrassing. he’d think being married once would've meant he had at least a little bit of game . . but nope - he had nothing.
taking a deep breath, he knocked on your door at precisely 7pm. when it swung open to reveal you, his lungs almost stopped in their tracks. you looked no less than stunning in a ruffled dress, in the pretty shade of baby-pink, your hair tumbling over your bare shoulders - half up, half down and bumped at the ends. a slim gold chain nestled in the hollow of your throat, shamefully drawing his eyes down to the swells of your titties.
“fuck . .” he said inanely, tongue suddenly clumsy in his mouth. “m’ so sorry. forgive me, i mean, you look . . absolutely amazing.”
a shy smile curved your lips, brightening your whole face up. “thanks . . so do you, toji.” your eyes skimmed over him appreciatively and he fought the urge to preen.
“o-oh, these are for you.” he thrusts the slightly wilted grocery store bouquet at you, wincing inwardly at his own awkwardness.
but you just smile, cradling the limp blooms like they were something so precious. “how sweet of you! i love daisies. lemme’ jus’ put these in some water and we can go.” you disappeared into the kitchen, leaving him to marvel at how such a simple gesture could delight you so thoroughly. damn, you were so lovely. inside and out.
the drive to the restaurant was filled with easy conversation interspersed with comfortable silences. toji let you be in control of the radio, secretly charmed by your off-key humming to the cheesy pop songs in rotation on your playlist. he could imagine countless nights like this, aimless drives with no destination in mind, just content to be in your company with no one to bother.
and dinner was a laughter-filled affair, trading bites of pasta and garlicky bread, arguing playfully over the merits of various desserts. you entertained him with customer service horror stories from your barista days, confessing your penchant for ‘accidentally’ giving rude patrons decaf.
in turn, toji found himself sharing more than he usually did - funny anecdotes about his buddies at the firehouse, his worries about his little sister starting college in the fall, even a bit about his dad. the words came without effort, drawn out by your natural warmth and empathy.
he couldn't remember the last time he'd enjoyed anyone's company so effortlessly.
when the check came, he wouldn't let you even reach for it. you rolled your eyes but allowed him to pay, primly informing him you were getting the next one. his stomach flipped at the unthinking promise of a next time.
you then lingered over coffee and dessert - the restaurant's version didn't even hold a candle to your black forest verrines, but you were too polite to say so - neither wanting the evening to end. toji watched you lick chocolate from your spoon, entranced by the tiny pink flash of your tongue. wishing he could lean in and taste the sweetness of your mouth. a pleasant shiver chased over his skin, heat simmering low in his belly. he’d never wanted anyone the way he wanted you - this maddening mix of tender and carnal, the urge to both protect and possess.
“mmm,” you purred appreciatively, pulling the spoon from your mouth with an obscene pop. “whoever said that chocolate isn’t better than sex clearly hadn't tasted chocolate like this.”
toji swallowed hard, adam's apple bobbing convulsively in his throat. “playin’ with fire are we?” he manages to rasp, fingers clenching around his mug.
you placed the spoon delicately on your empty plate, fingers lingering just long enough to draw his attention to their graceful dance. “who says i’m playin’, handsome?” you quip.
he was so fucked. so. totally. fucked.
afterwards, he walked you to your door, hands shoved deeply n’ awkwardly into his pockets to keep from doing something stupid like reaching for your hand. you then hovered on the stoop, the sultry summer night pressing in close.
“i had fun tonight,” you softly. in the light spilling from your living room window, your eyes were luminous. hopeful. “we should really do it again sometime.”
“we should,” he agreed, mouth dry. he couldn't look away from your face, tracing the delicate arch of your brows, the dark feathering of your lashes. you swayed closer, tipping your face up to his, and his heartbeat kicked into overdrive. god, you were killing him.
it took every ounce of willpower to step back, to force a chuckle past the ache in his chest. “well i should let you get your beauty sleep. early start tomorrow, right?” your smile faltered, a brief tightening around your eyes hinting at disappointment. he almost caved right then, almost said to hell with his reservations and dragged you into his arms the way he'd been dying to do all night.
but he couldn't. not when he had nothing more to offer you than heartache.
“right,” you murmured. “beauty sleep. so important for . . . baking.” you fumbled for your keys, not quite meeting his gaze. “i’ll see you round’ then.” he could only watch you retreat into the house, torn between relief at the bullet dodged and an overwhelming sense of loss.
wearily, he turned to go back to his own quiet home. he’d done the right thing. the smart thing. so why did it feel so damnably hollow?
avoidance was the order of the day after that near-miss. though it pained him, toji forced himself to keep some distance, to not make up flimsy excuses to show up on your doorstep at all hours of the night. no more dessert development sessions, no matter how much he craved the sight of you gushing and twirling over your latest creations. no more cute, little dinners with furtive hand holding under the table.
he threw himself into work with even more zeal than usual, pulling extra shifts and helping out with the neverending station chores. if the guys ribbed him about his sudden devotion to alphabetizing the equipment room or polishing the engine to a blinding shine, he shrugged it off. it was loads better than going home to an empty house haunted by what-ifs.
he ached to see you though. sometimes he'd catch a glimpse of you catering to your garden or heading off to the market, and his fingers would itch with the urge to go to you, to close the seemingly unbridgeable gap between you both with long strides and strong arms. more than once he'd picked up his phone to call you, thumb hesitating over your smiling face in his contacts until he cursed and tossed the phone aside.
it was for the best, he told himself firmly. you had your whole life ahead of you - school and internships, building your dream from the ground up. he’d only get in the way, bog you down with his everlasting issues and cynicism. he wouldn't, couldn't be the dead weight holding you back.
even if letting you go felt like tearing himself in half.
he should've known you wouldn't let him slink away so easily. that for all your sweetness, you were just as stubborn as he was. you’d never been one to give up on the things - or people - you wanted.
which bring us to now . . you ambushing him on his way home from a grueling 48-hour shift, looking unfairly pretty and indignant as you marched across the street to plant yourself in front of his truck. he barely bit back a groan, exhaustion and longing a potent cocktail in his bloodstream.
“hey, stranger,” you said archly, fine brows drawn together in a scowl. “long time no annoy.”
he cut the engine and climbed out, suddenly self-conscious about his unwashed, smoke-saturated state. “hi, yn. how’s it going?”
“ah, y’know. jus’ workin’ myself to the bone, trying to perfect this dessert that's only the culmination of my entire academic career thus far. while also attempting to figure out how i mysteriously pissed off my friend to the point of complete radio silence.” your arms crossed over your chest, a hint of hurt flickering in your eyes, “so yeah . . the usual.”
guilt lodged under his breastbone, sharp and corroding. he’d never meant to upset you, to make you think any of this was at all your fault. “shit, yn. i’m sorry . . i didn’t mean to ignore you, i’ve just been so -”
“busy . .” you finished for him, mouth flattening. “mhm, i’ve noticed. so busy you ignored all my calls n’ texts - missed our dinner the other night too. you’ve been practically living at the station lately.”
he grimaced, one hand scrubbing over his stubbled jaw. he’d never been any good with words, with making excuses. especially when faced with eyes that seemed to see right through his every defense, “you’re right. i’ve been avoiding you. but not because of anything you did. i jus’ . . needed some space to clear my head.”
your arms tightened, gaze dropping to the oil-stained pavement. “i thought we were having fun,” you said quietly. “gettin’ to know each other. but if i misread things, if i made you uncomfortable in any way i really am so sorr . . .”
“no.” he interrupted fiercely, taking an involuntary step closer. close enough to smell the light, citrusy scent of you, to see the faint mascara smudges of sleeplessness under your eyes. “you didn't misread anything, yn. these past weeks, spendin’ time with you . . . s’ been amazing. the most fun i’ve had in years, if i’m being honest.”
confusion clouded your expression. “then why?”
“because m’ a goddamn mess,” he bit out, the truth clawing its way up his throat. “because you’re brilliant, and you’re goin’ places . . n’ i wouldn’t be able to give you my time in the way that i know you more than deserve. i wanna smell muffins in the mornin’ . . not the smell of musty men and water hoses.”
he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose before sitting his stuff on the hood of his car, “i jus’,” he started, “i’ve done the dating thing, alright? the marriage thing too, y’know that. i jus’ . . i cant afford to lose another person in my life that i care about — not when i’ve come this far to prevent it n’ when they’re as sweet and pretty, and as kind as you.” you stand in silence, letting him vent, “i’m not perfect. m’ terrible at cooking, i sing in the shower, n’ on top of all that i fuckin’ snore like a grizzly bear. ya’ still want me now?”
you took a step forward, hand coming up to fist in the front of his t-shirt. he inhaled sharply at the sudden press of your soft curves against his hard planes, the way your gaze dropped to his mouth.
“yeah, you grumpy old fuck . . i still want you,” you whispered fiercely. “mess, snores and all.”
he softened as you pressed a kiss onto his cheek, gentle and warm with truce, “i have my own damn baggage. y’think thats stoppin’ me from goin’ after what i want? no. so jus’ stop bein’ such an asshole n’ kiss me alread - mmph!” — that was it. that was the straw that’d broken the camel’s back. with a muttered curse, his control had finally snapped. he hauled you flush against him, one arm banding around your waist as the other hand sank into your hair, cradling the back of your head. you made a soft, needy sound and surged up on tiptoe, sealing your mouth to his.
the first touch of your lips was electric, a livewire straight to his core. they were exactly as soft and sweet as he'd imagined, moving over his with an urgency that matched his own. he angled his head to slant his mouth more firmly over your, licking at the seam of your lips as you licked on the scar on his.
he swept his tongue into your mouth, stroking over yours, swallowing the low moan that vibrated in her throat. you tasted like peppermint and the vaguest hint of sugar, an addictive flavor he already knew he'd never get enough of. your arms twined around his neck, blunt nails scraping deliciously at his nape as you pressed impossibly closer.
dimly, he registered the whoops and catcalls of a passing group of neighbors, but he couldn't bring himself to care. let em’ gawk. the whole damn neighborhood could come out to watch and he still wouldn't be able to tear himself away from your sweetness.
he was a man possessed.
the kiss deepened, turning hot and hungry. toji backed you up against his front door, hands roaming greedily over your curves as he pressed the hard length of his body into your soft warmth. you made yet another sound into his mouth, lifting one leg to wrap around his hip, opening yourself up to him.
he tore his lips from yours only to trail open-mouthed kisses down the column of your throat, tasting the salt on your skin from the sweat of the hot summer sun. “fuck . . i want you,” he growled against your pulse point. “wanna’ touch you, taste you, feel you. if you’ll let me . . of course.”
“wow, such a gentlemen,” you gasped, hands scrabbling at his shoulders. “please fuckin’ do, toji.” patience fraying, he fumbled for his keys and somehow managed to get the door open without releasing you. you stumbled over the threshold, shedding clothes haphazardly between searing kisses - your flimsy blouse fluttering to the floor, followed by smoke stained his t-shirt.
toji walked you backwards down the hall to his bedroom, kicking the door shut before tossing you onto the bed. he followed you down, covering your entire frame with his own, reveling in the feel of all your bare skin finally against him. you were a vision in the spill of afternoon light, curls fanned across his pillow, pink lace bra and panties a tantalizing contrast to your brown skin.
he took a moment just to admire you, committing every detail to memory. the rapid rise and fall of your chest, the way your lips parted on shallow breaths. heavy-lidded eyes hazy with want and something deeper, more tender.
“been dreamin’ about you, princess. shit - you’re so gorgeous.” he rasped, nipping at your earlobe with each word, “so pretty, so beautiful, so smart.”
you shivered, fingernails raking over his shoulders, “nngh - c’mon stoppit, toji . .” growling low in his throat, he captured your lips in a nasty kiss, all teeth and tongue. large hands cupping your full titties, calloused thumbs rubbing your nipples into stiff peaks. and you arched into his touch with a moan, shameless in your pleasure.
“someone’s eager, hm?”
breaking the kiss, he began to work his way down your body, mapping every dip and curve with lips and teeth and tongue. he paid thorough attention to your titties, laving at the dark-brown nipples until you were panting and squirming beneath him.
“b-baby, please . .” you whimpered, fingers sinking into his hair to urge him lower.
he only chuckled darkly against your flesh. “patience, sweetheart. m’ not goin’ anywhere. let me love you.”
true to his word, he set about exploring you - kissing a meandering path down your ribs and belly, dipping his tongue into your navel just to hear you gasp. strong hands gripped your thighs, pushing them further and further apart so he could settle more comfortably between them.
hooking his fingers in your lacy panties, he dragged the scrap of fabric down your legs. “fuck yeah, look at you. so wet for me already. look at this pussy . .”
you mewled as he licked a broad stripe up your slit, circling your puffy clit with the tip of his tongue. he sealed his lips around the sensitive nub and sucked, fingers delving into your soaked entrance, curling to find that special spot inside you.
“o-ooh my god — yes!” your back bowed off the bed, a vibration spreading down your chest as he worked you higher. he paid close attention to your most tender skin, alternating between broad, flat licks and quick, targeted flicks. crooking his fingers just so, he rubbed and rubbed until he found — “ah f-fuck!” your g-spot, feeling your thighs start to tremble around his head.
“thas’ it, bunny - cum on my tongue. i wanna’ see it all, mama. c’mon, i know you can do it,” the filthy words combined with the relentless stimulation quite literally pushed you over the edge . . and you came with a sharp cry, gushing your juices all over his lips and chin. he groaned at the taste of you, lapping up every last drop, addicted already.
while you were still quivering and coming down from your high, toji fumbled blindly for the nightstand drawer. he managed to retrieve a condom without taking his eyes off of you. ripping open the packet with his teeth, he sat back on his knees to quickly sheath himself.
you took the opportunity to admire his body, running appreciative hands over his muscular chest and abdomen. he was all tanned skin and chiseled muscle, a sparse trail of dark hair pointing the way to his impressive erection. it jutted from a thatch of coarse curls, thick and flushed nearly purple, the bulbous head glistening with excitement.
wrapping your fingers around his rigid length, you stroked him base to tip, twisting your wrist on the upstroke so that the condom slips right back off. toji grunted, hips bucking into your touch as you rubbed your thumb over the leaking slit. you pause, your mouth watering as you begin to lower your head down. you press the side of your face against his thigh, peering up at him with batting lashes and a poked lip. your ass is arched - high in the air and wiggling as if you just wanted him to smack it.
that’s when you began slapping his heavy dick against your cheek, repeatedly, “so big, baby,” you whisper, now positioning your face to where his cock could sit right on top of it - “can i put it in m’mouth? please . .?”
“yn you don’t have to -”
“i want to.”
toji looked down at you once more, the look of want in your eyes . . . how could he resist?
he gently grabs the side of your neck, firm but not firm enough to cause pain, his other hand curling around the base of his cock as he whispered, “open wide. tongue out,” biting his lip as he braces himself for the sensation of your mouth wrapped around him.
that’s when your wet tongue dances out tentatively, tracing the ridge of his head before retreating back to safety inside your mouth. it was clear that you were just as lust filled as him. toji could feel himself pulsing with need as you took him in deeper and deeper, a low groan escaping him, “shit, doll - got it all to fit . . good girl.” your hands gripped his hips tightly, nails digging into his skin as you bobbed your head up and down. toji swore he could fall in love with the simple, yet beautifully disgusting sound of your throat — gawk, gulp, gawk! ugh, they were such disgusting noises - some gagging here, some moaning there, but he couldn’t have asked for anything better. you were slobbing, spitting, and choking on his dick and the only thing getting in your way from taking him whole was the fact that his size was still fairly new to you.
“sss’ ooh fuck - b-baby . . yn -” he hisses, both your eyes and his rolling to the back of your heads as you continue to gulp him down, spit trickling down to your tits as they jiggled to the rhythm of your mouth. each and every glide against your tongue was starting to overpower him, and before he knew it, if you didn’t stop he was bout’ to —
“cum . . m’gonna cum! m’fuckin’ cumming - asshhit . .” he groaned, eyes tightly closing as you continued to deepthroat him the best you could, “don’t stop, keep suck - y-yes . .” it was a hassle - a big one, but the taste of him warm cum painting your throat felt like a sweet reward.
almost sweeter than your baked goods.
whining and still aching to suck on him some more, toji pulls you off in fear of shaking more than he already was — and the sight of you with his cum dripping out of your mouth only did the complete opposite.
“uh, well then . . how’d i do?” you say shyly, as if you hadn’t just completely slutted out your mouth for your next door neighbor.
a surprised bark of laughter escaped him even as his cock jerked at you eagerly. “don’t exile me, but that mouth . . shit, might be better than your cookies. not gonna’ lie, sweetheart . .” toji growled, and you pout as he’s prowling back over you. you then watch him slowly, his fingers unexpectedly plunging back into your pussy as he scoops some of your wetness onto the pad of them before pulling them back out. he fists the base and tip of himself, smothering his cock in your juices as lubricant as he teases your entrance with a few pats n’ nudges. fuckin’ tease. he kept on until you were angrily swatting his chest to put the damn thing in already.
who could blame your lust? after all . . you’d been dreaming about it for weeks now.
yet again, he snags another rubber, strokes a little, and once he’s in, “oh s-shit that pussy's tight, baby . .” he’s in. you moaned in tandem, dick snuggling into your tight walls inch by excruciating inch. you were warm and wet and perfect around him, gripping him like a silken vise. it was magical, just like you - but the look on your face . . oh that look, almost seemed like you wanted to be broken. with your arms above your head, your titties swaying against your chest and your whines now hoarse n' pleading — he kinda wanted to break you too.
toji started with slow, deep strokes, mindful of your tightness and his considerable girth. he didn't want to hurt you, wanted to savor every clench and flutter around his aching cock. wanted this to last, to burn this moment into his brain forever.
“f-feel so fuckin' good wrapped around me,” he gritted out, hips rolling in a lazy figure eight that had you keening. “y’so wet, honey . . dick feel that good?”
“toji,” you whimpered brokenly, fingernails scoring down his flexing back. “more, please . . need it harder . .”
and how could he deny you anything when you begged so sweetly? bracing his weight on his forearms, he obliged, snapping his hips forward with more force. the headboard started to thump against the wall, the mattress creaking beneath your writhing bodies.
“like that, baby? hm?” he panted against your throat, sweat beading at his temples as he drove into you again and again, his cock damn near slipping out of you from the slippery speed. “this what you need? me splittin' this pretty pussy open?”
“yes d-daddy . . ” you wailed, back arching like a drawn bow. your cunt was fluttering around him, a telltale sign of your impending orgasm. “aah - don't stop, don’t stop, m'so close!”
“shh, i got you,” he promised, shifting the angle of his hips to grind against your clit with every thrust. “gonna’ make this pussy sing for me, gonna’ wring the cum outta’ you 'til you're shakin' on me. you want that?” his filthy words seemed to be your undoing because suddenly you were clenching down on him like a vice, a sharp cry tearing from your throat as you thrashed beneath him. your release gushed hot and slick around his pistoning length, drenching his groin and thighs with sweetness.
“f-fuck yeah,” toji choked out, his own rhythm faltering as your rippling walls threatened to milk him dry. “good girl, sweetheart, cream on this dick, lemme’ feel you.” he managed a handful more erratic thrusts before his own orgasm crashed into him like a freight train. he buried himself to the hilt and stilled, a hoarse shout muffled into your sweat damped shoulder as he spilled himself into the condom. his cock jerked and twitched with every pulse, vision nearly whiting out with the force of it.
for long moments, you both just shook and gasped, clinging to each other as aftershocks rolled through your bodies. toji's heart was thundering so hard he was sure you could feel it through his sweat-slick chest. he'd never come so hard in his life, never felt so utterly shattered and remade.
you made a soft, satisfied sound as he carefully withdrew from your heat, rolling to the side to dispose of the condom with a quick knot. then he was gathering you close again, palm smoothing up your spine as you burrowed into him with a sigh.
“shit,” you eventually mumbled into the heated skin of his throat. “that was . . .”
“ . . fuckin' heavenly,” he finished roughly, a laugh rumbling in his chest as he felt your answering huff of amusement. “m’ sorry i uh . . came so fast. i don’t usually -”
“did you just apologize to me because my pussy is good?” you teased, dragging your nose along the edge of his stubbled jaw. he could feel the curve of your smile, the unabashed joy, and it settled something deep within him. soothed the ragged pieces he'd thought long broken.
“damn straight,” he agreed, arms tightening around you possessively. “i can die a happy man now.”
“well, you're not allowed to die on me now, toji. you're stuck with me. escape if you can.”
“mm, is that right,” he nuzzled into your hair, breathing in the scent of you - all warm woman and satisfaction.
“mhmm. you're not getting rid of me easily. i still have so many desserts to force on you, so many early morning baking sessions to drag you into . .”
he laughed outright at that, at the sheer exuberance in your voice. “promises, promises.”
“oh i always keep my promises, mister. which reminds me . .” you pushed up on an elbow, eyes sparkling with mischief and something deeper. something that snatched the breath from his lungs. “i seem to remember you saying something about round two . .”
“did i? care to refresh my memory?” he growled, even as he was already rolling you beneath him again, mouth seeking yours. you then feel his palm colliding with your ass in a gentle spank. “what am i gonna’ do with you?”
“everything.” you breathed against his lips, a vow. “anything. i want you, toji. want everything with you.” and fuck, what could he say to that? what could he do but kiss you like a promise, a prayer, and proceed to show you just how much he wanted that too? wanted to give you everything, anything, all he had to offer?
he'd never been a man of many words. but this - loving you with hands and mouth and body, breaking you apart and putting you back together again and again until you were both sweat-soaked and shaking . . this he could do. this he would do for the rest of his life if you'd let him.
“you’ve got me.”
and from the joyous half-sob of his name as he sank back into your pussy, the way your body opened for him like a flower to the sun, he had a feeling you just might too.
there would be time for more words later - time for confessions and plans and mapping out a future he'd never even let himself dream of before. time to make good on promises whispered into heated skin, to build something real and lasting brick by brick. but for now, in the honeyed afternoon light with your legs wrapped around his waist and your heart in his hands . . let himself get lost. let himself drown in sensation and emotion, in this miraculous woman he didn't deserve but who'd chosen him anyway.
from lost to found, in the space of a heartbeat. and all because an angel in a garden had smiled at him across a sunny street and offered up a little piece of heaven. he'd never know what he'd done to deserve you, or this second chance. but he'd spend the rest of his days earning this gift, cherishing it.
cherishing you.
that was a promise. and like his beautiful girl . . toji fushiguro always kept his promises.
©️ SATORUBI - please do not copy, translate, or modify my work without my approval ! thank you for playing . . the challenge has only just begun.
#🎀 — www.satorubiwrites/games !#AHHHHH WE HERE#papa toji i luv him#toji x fem! reader#toji x female reader#toji x black reader#toji x black y/n#toji smut#jjk x fem! reader#jjk x poc!reader
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White Dress, Black Cat 𖣁 | ONYAKOPON

Summary: They said she was a witch.
She said they were all damned. Onyakopon didn’t believe in hauntings until he heard his own voice tremble at the pulpit. Now every hymn echoes wrong, and she’s waiting for him by the well, knitting as if the world ain’t falling apart. He just wanted to serve God. Now they’re standing hand in hand, watching the damned burn.
Themes: Heavy Religious trauma/themes, family dysfunction, mentions of suicide, miscarriage, mental health struggles, tall blk female reader, plus-sized reader, preacherson!ony, implied supernatural violence, psychological horror, shy!ony, dark themes and atmosphere, small town prejudice, abandonment, slow burn, smut: virginity loss (mc and ony), soft sex/lovemaking, praise kinks, soft dom!ony
Part one | Part two | Part three
Word count: 10.2k
Authors Note: Well obviously I've been really into religious themes and southern gothic themes for some reason and with my religious background it's only fair I vent through my writing lol. This was meant to be a one-shot but yk how I get lol. Very different from the usual Ony fics hope you all enjoy and I don't disappoint 🥺💔
also wanted to thank @thecoochiefairy and @2neaky for unknowingly inspiring me!! I love black love and im happy to see it on tumblr again 🩷 please don't be shy send me an ask and support me on AO3
The night pressed in thick as syrup, and Onyakopon couldn't move.
He lay flat on his back on a threadbare cot in the shotgun house behind the old
sugarcane fields, sweat slicking his brow, heart hammering against ribs that had forgotten how to breathe. The air was too still. No crickets. No frogs. Not even the wind dared stir. Just that weight, heavier than a man, darker than sin, pinning him to the mattress with invisible hands.
Something's whispering in his ear.
He couldn’t understand the words, not exactly. But the voice, it was his father’s. And then not.
His body twitched. Eyes wide, still unable to blink. In the corner of the room, where the shadow refused to dissolve, something crouched. Watching. Waiting. Its eyes were coals, slow-burning.
“Get up,” he told himself. But his jaw wouldn’t work. His tongue felt thick. Roots of a tree growing wild inside his throat.
The thing in the corner inched forward. Crawling on elbows. Grinning too wide.
And then—
A scream tore from his chest. The kind that didn’t sound human.
He sat bolt upright, breath ragged, vision swimming. The shadow was gone. But the smell lingered like hot iron and smoke. Like burnt offerings. Outside, there was a loud crack of thunder as the sky began to pour. The world had moved on. But Onyakopon didn’t.
Not yet.
He scrubbed a hand over his face and stared down at the callouses in his palms.
The tremble in them betrayed him. That was the third one this week. And in every single one, there was always a shadow. Eyes like smoldering coals. A voice that wore his father’s face like a mask. No matter how many scriptures he recited before bed. No matter how often he sang himself hoarse in praise. It kept coming back. Stronger and stronger. And every time he woke, he felt like something had been peeled off of him in the night. Something soft. Something sacred.
He refused to speak on it. Refused to write it down. Didn’t dare let it live outside his own chest.
Not yet.
Not running. Not crying. Just sitting there heavy on his heart. Another crack of thunder rumbled the sky as heavy rain pelted on his family homes roof. He rose from his bed pulling his rosary off his night stand bringing it to his lips as he said a silent prayer.
Lord… have mercy on me. I been seein’ things. Eyes in the corner, whispers in the dark, faces that don’t belong to no man. I don’t know if it’s You, or the Devil, or somethin’ in between. But I’m scared. I’m tired. I’m tryin’.
Send me peace. Send me clarity. Send me somethin’ steady, somethin’ real. A light, Lord. Just a light to carry me through. Even if I don’t understand it yet.
As he said his Amens and laid back in his bed, Onyakopon had felt for the first time think that He wasn't listening.
By Sunday morning, the dreams still hadn’t left him. They clung to his shoulders like wet cotton.
But church folk didn’t care about dreams, especially not from a man like him. broad-shouldered and Bible-raised man, with a voice like honey on fire. The kind of voice that made pews sway and Deaconess Grant shout with both hands in the air.
Onyakopon stood at the front of the little white church he'd grown up in fingers wrapped around the wooden pulpit like every Sunday, his deep waves still damp from a basin rinse. Sunlight filtered in through stained glass panes, splashing color over the choir robes and sweating faces. The fans were flapping, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus but the heat was still wrapping necks like a noose.
“There's a leak in this old building... and my soul...” His voice filled the rafters, warm and booming.
Eyes closed. He let the song carry him. He tried to lose himself in it. But then
He saw it.
It wasn’t a flash. Not a trick of the light. It was there, really there, on the third pew from the front, sitting where Sister McGee always sat, legs crossed and grinning wide like it was proud to be seen. A thing with a stretched-out face and black gums, skin that shimmered like chicken grease thrown in water. Its eyes were hollow, but it always found him.
Mocking.
Ony’s throat caught on the next word.
“...This old building—keeps o' sinkin' and my... soul”
His voice had cracked like he was sixteen again singing for the congregation for the first time, he winced. Blinked. Shook his head.
Someone from the amen corner called out, calm and easy: “Take your time, brother.”
The thing was gone.
Just a trick of the heat, he told himself. Just his mind. The back doors of the church creaked open. Slow. Dust in the light. And there she was. Tall for a woman and wide-hipped, dark-skinned kissed by Gods given sun, like the earth after heavy rain, wearing a faded rose dress with puffed sleeves and lace at the hem. Her black cat trotted beside her like it belonged there. She held a woven basket over one arm and wore a wide-brimmed hat trimmed with dried lavender.
Every voice in the room caught in their throats.
Folks didn’t speak her name. Didn’t meet her eye. The bastard daughter of sin and prophecy. The daughter of a witch. But she just walked, quietly, deliberately, like the whole town wasn't against her and took her seat on the far back pew. Sitting there there like she always had a right to.
And while the choir tried to pick up the next verse, she began to knit. Small, neat stitches. Humming the melody under her breath in a voice soft as velvet.
Onyakopon stared too long.
He wasn't the only one.
Service ended with a shaky benediction and more side-eyes than hallelujahs.
Folks filed out quickly, muttering about the heat, about the hymnbook pages sticking together, about anything but the girl and her cat in the back pew. Onyakopon pretended to help fold chairs in the fellowship hall just long enough for everyone to disappear down the gravel road.
He stepped out the side door into the sunlight, breathing like he’d been underwater. But even outside, the church still felt-strange. Like it held its breath after she walked in.
She was still in the last pew. Alone now. Knitting the same deep thread with slow, sure hands. Her cat sat curled beside her like a guardian made of fur shadows. The rest of the sanctuary had emptied out like they feared catching something just by breathing her air.
Onyakopon stood at the door a moment, one boot scuffing the floor.
She didn’t look up. Just said, soft and almost teasing , delicate voice bouncing off the empty decaying walls.
“You feel it too.”
His spine stiffened as he straightens himself up, removing his cap from his head, deep
frown lines growing between his eyebrows.
"Ma'am?"
She tugged the thread once, looped it, pulled it through. Her fingers never paused.
“What don’t belong in the Lord’s house.”
His lips parted, but he said nothing.
Then she looked up. Wide, round, doll-like eyes — so dark they shimmered. She looked at him like a mirror. Like she saw every dream he tried to forget, every shadow that clung to the edges of his soul.
Onyakopon’s stomach twisted. A chill moved up his spine slow as molasses. He hadn’t told nobody about the thing that visited him in sleep or what he'd seen — not his mother, his father or brother. This was something just between him and God. He felt his fists clench, not in threat but in defense. That kind of knowing… it wasn’t natural.
He took a step in, boots creaking on the old wood. “You been watchin’ me?” he asked, voice low and rough like split wet oak.
“No,” she said, still sweet, still calm. “You came lookin’ for me. Even if you ain’t know it yet.
He frowned deeper, throat dry. “You don't know what you're talkin' about ma'am..”
“Mm.” She glanced down. “And yet, here you are, tryin' to defend yourself to a stranger who don't know what she talkin' bout."
The black cat stretched from its place at her feet and wound around his leg, tail brushing his calf like a whisper. Onyakopon looked down, startled, as it rubbed against his dress shoes, purring deep like a hymn. He tensed, stepping forward, and his shadow stretched over her like a giant. Despite their size difference, he felt a sudden weight in the air. Her presence loomed, even sitting, somehow bigger than him. Ony was always the biggest man in any room — 6’7, broad and built like a pillar. But this woman, in a worn rose dress and knitted calm, made him feel small.
She didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink.
He swallowed.
“Who are you?” he asked, voice softer now, but no less honest.
She smiled just slightly. “You already know.”
“I don’t.” She hummed again, “Your dreams are becoming louder brother,” she murmured, threading her yarn again. “Woke the sky last night, Woke the dirt.”
He blinked, unsettled. He didn’t want know how to fight it. Didn’t know how to turn off the uncomfortable truth in her voice. Her fingers moved again. The yarn wound tighter. She added, without looking
It’s this town. Folks plant their evil here, water it, pray over it like it’s corn and wheat. And it grows.”
Ony’s jaw tensed. The cat flicked its tail once like punctuation. She tied off the thread, tucked the yarn into her basket like she was sealing something sacred or dangerous.
“When you start to see the truth,” she said, standing now, her basket in hand, “you’ll know where to find me.”
She lingered in the doorway, eyes on him like she already knew what he’d choose.
“May the Lord keep you, Onyakopon. Even when the ones close to you can’t.”
Then she vanished into the rain.
The church doors creaked as he stepped out, the rain had stopped sunlight dull and sour under a heavy sky. No birds singing. Just the wind dragging itself down the road like a dying hymn.
The woods swallowed her up quick, the church just a shadow behind her. Leaves brushed her shoulders, pine needles crunching beneath her bare feet. She didn’t look back once. Mama trotted at her side, tail high, silent as breath.
“He don’t even know what he is yet,” she whispered, mostly to herself, but also to the cat.
Mama meowed low, like a scoff.
“I know, I know. You don’t like him. Sayin’ I oughta let him stay lost.”
She paused by a fallen log, placing her basket on it carefully. Sat down, drawing her shawl tighter across her shoulders.
“But he’s dreamin’ the way I used to. That means somethin’. Ain’t many left who can see past the veil.”
Mama leapt up beside her, staring off into the trees like she was waiting for somethin, or someone.
The girl smiled faintly. “You always was overprotective.”
Mama blinked slow.
“I ain’t lettin’ him close, not yet. Just watchin’.”
She turned her eyes to the sky, where clouds pressed low and the wind smelled like storm.
“When he’s ready to see the truth,” she murmured, “he’ll know where to find me.”
Mama curled against her side, purring soft and wary.
And the forest, for now, held its breath.
Monday morning came like it always did — quiet, slow, and too bright.
The sky was washed pale like a bedsheet left too long in the sun, and the town lay still beneath it. No rain left, just the memory of it in puddles and soft mud tracks. Ony didn't dream at all last night, just darkness and cold.
Onyakopon stood by the porch steps, box of his mama’s peach pies tucked under one arm, the other gripping a thermos of chicory coffee. Caleb his older brother was already loading up the truck, hands moving fast and efficient, like always.
“Quit draggin’ your feet,” Caleb muttered. “These folks ain’t gonna wait forever.”
Ony grunted, climbing in beside him.
They rode through the back roads in silence for a while, gravel popping under the tires, air sticky with heat. Every house they passed had a porch, and every porch had eyes. Folks rocking slowly in creaking chairs, faces turned their way but not smiling. At the first stop, Miss Irene met them on her porch with a crooked grin and two dollars folded tight in her hand.
“Your mama’s a blessin’, she know that?” she said, voice thin as brittle paper. “Tell her I’m prayin’ for her.”
She didn’t look at Ony when she said it.
By the third house, he noticed it, the way people didn’t laugh the same. Didn’t talk the same. Brother Johnny Al who always joked with him just nodded and shut the screen door with a quick and nasty slam. He saw the elderly man peeking from the blinds as they drove away, he should have worn his glasses today because he swore his eyes flash completely dark.
Another one of their regulars wouldn't meet his eyes during prayer, just muttered “Amen” too fast and wiped sweat off his brow that wasn’t there.
The last stop was by the church, where Sister Myra handed Caleb her tithe and asked them to “keep an extra prayer for the sinful.” She smiled at his brother when she said it, but Ony felt it cut anyway when it dropped as she looked at him duly
By noon, Ony’s chest felt tight. Not like fear like being studied. Like his skin was a page someone was reading line by line. He wondered if this is his Jesus felt when they read his commandments though Caleb didn’t notice, or pretended not to. He was good at that.
Caleb was humming to himself on the drive back, fingers tapping the wheel in rhythm, until Ony finally spoke.
“Something’s off,” Ony said, quiet.
Caleb didn’t look at him when he responded, just snorted dismissively. “It’s Monday. That’s what’s off.”
“I’m serious.” Ony’s voice was low, almost unsure. “Like somethin’ shifted. Like the world ain’t sittin’ right on its bones no more.”
“Somethin’ off,” he said again, quieter now, letting the words hang in the cab.
His long legs stretched out in the passenger seat, feet braced like he was expecting a turn that never came.
Caleb finally glanced at him, just a flick of the eye, jaw tight. Then laughed, short and sharp.
“Boy, you feel off ‘cause you always by yourself, hidin’ in your own head like some daydreamin’ woman. You need to study more. With me and With Pa. Need to find you a wife. Get you right.”
“...A wife?”
The word stuck in Ony’s throat, and just like that she was there. Not in body but in that sudden, dangerous way dreams slide into daylight. She wasn’t doing anything grand just sitting on a porch, elbows on her knees, eyes half-lidded like she knew every secret he ever kept. Humming low. Thread slipping through her fingers like it had a mind of its own. Like he did.
Ony blinked slow, like the words took a second to land again he repeated "A wife.."
Caleb went on, voice firmer now. “You feel off ‘cause you always stuck in your damn head, day dreamin’. Walkin’ around like you waitin’ on signs and visions instead of doin’ what men do.”
Ony turned to him, slow. “And what’s that?”
“Work. Worship. Wife. Provide. That’s the order. That’s how Pa did it. That’s how I do it. You think I didn’t feel strange too before I married Leah? Thought the whole world was wrong. Now look, she carryin’ my child, and I sleep just fine.”
Ony shook his head, jaw tightening. “So you think I’m crazy ‘cause I ain’t found nobody to lay up under yet?”
“I think you lonely,” Caleb snapped. “And lonely men start believin’ in all kinds of foolishness.”
They pulled into the driveway and sat in silence, the weight of everything pressing down like the summer heat.
Caleb finally broke it, voice low and hard. “I think somethin’ needs to fix you. You been strange for weeks. Folks see it. You don’t even try no more—don’t talk, don’t help with the sermons, barely speak to Ma. And now you sittin’ here talkin’ like the sky’s fallin’.”
Ony turned his head to the window, jaw tight. “You don’t see what I see.”
“No, I don’t. And that’s the damn problem. You always talkin’ in riddles. Bein’ quiet ain’t the same as bein’ deep.” Caleb’s voice was sharp. “You need to come back to earth, Ony. You ain’t no damn prophet. You just lost.”
Ony’s voice was cold, clipped. “Maybe you’re the lost one if you think a woman and a baby in this rotting town gonna fix anything.”
Caleb’s eyes narrowed. “So you disrespectin’ the Bible teachings, boy?”
Ony didn’t look at him. Just said quietly,
“Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked shall I return.”
Caleb turned to face him, brow furrowed. Ony finally met his brother’s eyes. “That don’t sound like disrespect,” Ony said, voice flat. “That sound like a man knows this world don’t owe him nothin’. Not comfort. Not clarity. Not no wife or baby to fix what’s broke inside.”
Ony opened the door and stepped out, boots hitting the dirt like punctuation. The screen door creaked faintly in the distance, wind brushing against the trees. Caleb stayed in the truck for a second longer, jaw flexing, breath shallow. Then he shoved the door open.
“You always pullin’ them verses like a blade,” Caleb snapped, rounding the truck
“Think that makes you more holy? Makes you a better God-fearing man than me?”
Ony didn’t answer, just walked slow toward the porch, hands in his pockets like nothing touched him. Caleb caught up fast, grabbing his arm. " I’m talkin’ to you.”
Ony yanked back. “And I heard you. You mad ‘cause I know what I’m talkin’ about, and it don’t line up with your little box of how a man supposed to be.”
Caleb shoved him then, not hard, but hard enough.
“You think knowin’ scripture make you better than me? You think starin’ off into space and spittin’ riddles make you more of a man?”
Ony pushed him back, this time with force.
“I think pretendin’ like a wife and a baby make the rot go away is a lie. I think that makes you the fool.”
They were close now, breath hot, shoulders squared. From the porch came a soft creak the screen door opening slow.
Their mother stepped down from the porch, robe tied tight at the waist, her expression unreadable — but her eyes sharp as ever. Leah hovered behind her, one hand on her stomach, eyes wide.
“That’s enough out here,” she said again, sterner now. “I don’t care who’s feelin’ what you don’t raise your voices like that on this land.”
Caleb’s chest was still heaving, fists balled at his sides, but he dropped his eyes. Ony, jaw locked, He looked at her, really looked at her and something in him softened.
“I’ll be back ‘fore supper,” he said quietly.
Then he leaned in, pressed a quick, reverent kiss to her forehead.
“Love you, Mama.”
She nodded, the way only a mother could like she saw through him but loved him anyway.
As Ony stepped off the porch, he brushed past Caleb, shoulder knocking into his brother’s like punctuation. Deliberate. Firm.
Caleb turned after him, lips parted like he had more to say, but whatever it was, he swallowed it.
Leah reached for his hand from the porch.
“Let him go,” she said gently.
“He don’t need to wander,” Caleb muttered. Their mother didn’t look at him when she answered.
“Maybe he do.”
Onyakopon walked with no aim, boots kicking up dust as the cicadas screamed louder than the thoughts in his head. The town stretched out around him, crooked and quiet all heatwaves and peeling paint and eyes he couldn’t see but felt. His hands were in his pockets, his jaw still clenched.
He didn’t know where he was going, Nowhere, really but it felt like somewhere
Like something was pulling.
The sun hung thick and low, dripping gold between the trees, and for a second everything felt too still like the world had paused to hear his steps. Then he saw it.
A black cat, perched on a crumbling stone fence just ahead. Its fur looked wet, almost shining. It didn’t move when he approached.
Just stared, eyes like glass marbles catching the light. He slowed and the cat didn’t blink, didn't flinch. Just waited.
Ony felt a chill crawl up his neck despite the heat.
“You lost?” he murmured, barely louder than the wind. The cat tilted its head, eyes squinting like his question offended it, then turned. Leaping down, slipping into the brush like it had somewhere to be and maybe, just maybe, he was supposed to follow. So, he'd stand there for a while listening, waiting - for what exactly? He wasn't so sure himself.
Staring at the place where the cat had vanished. His breath slowed, the tension in his shoulders settling into something heavier. He didn’t move, just listened to the buzz of the heat, the rustle of leaves.
Thinking about turning around. About going home. Sitting down with his family at dinner telling them he was ready to look for a wife, asking his father to mentor him. Mold him to be just like him and Caleb. About pretending he hadn’t felt something shift deep in his gut the second he saw that cat.
Maybe Caleb was right.
Maybe he was strange.
Maybe he was just lonely.
A sharp, irritated meow snapped him from the thought. There it was again — the black cat, now sitting neatly a few paces behind him, tail curled tight, ears pointing upward, eyes narrowed like it was waiting on a child dragging their feet. It meowed again, louder this time, then stood and turned. Walked ahead slowly, stopping every few feet like it was checking to see if he’d catch on. Ony swallowed. Then, without a word, he followed.
The cat cut through a thicket like it had somewhere to be, glancing back only once before Ony followed. Trees arched above him like ribs, the woods swallowing sound until all he heard was his breath and the soft thud of his boots on earth. It didn’t feel like he was walking anymore. More like being led. They came to a clearing a patch of light cracked open like an eye between the trees, and there she was. She sat on an old quilt, colors faded like memory, her back to him. Her clothes clung loose and thin in the heat nothing like what women wore outside the house. Nothing a preacher’s son had any business looking at. But he did.
She was knitting again. Hands moving fast, like she was trying to exorcise something with every twist of thread. Her dark coils slipped loose, brushing her cheeks as she muttered to herself, angry and fast. The cat trotted over to her and curled up like it had been expected.
Without looking up, she said, “Thought you didn’t like him, Mama.”
Ony took a careful step forward, brow furrowed. “Your mutt don’t like me?”
The girl turned sharp, like she’d been waiting on that line. Her hands froze mid-stitch, and her head snapped over one shoulder. That chubby, soft face from church? It scrunched up like a storm cloud now, eyes suddenly sharp cutting.
“Only mutt here is you.”
Even the cat hissed, low and warning, tail flicking once like a whip before settling back down beside her with a satisfied grunt.
Ony stiffened.
She wasn’t sweet like she was in the Lord’s house. Not quiet and warm like the girl humming behind the pews. Her energy was strange now. Bristled. Her lips were dry, chapped pink from too much sun, and her voice carried something jagged underneath it.
“You always follow stray things?” she asked, threading again quick and harsh like the yarn had done her wrong.
He didn’t answer at first.
Didn’t know how.
Didn’t know why his feet brought him here at all. “You was knittin’ in church,” he said finally, more to himself than her.
“I was.”
“You knittin’ now.”
“Got hands, don’t I?”
He squinted at her, frustrated and fascinated all at once. “You always talk like this?” She shrugged, didn’t look up. “Only when men ask me stupid things.”
Ony winced, rubbing the back of his neck. His boot scuffed at the dirt, slow and awkward. He didn’t have much practice with women, his world was made up of his mother, elder ladies at church, and Leah when she needed something fetched from the pantry.
“Apologies, ma’am,” he mumbled, voice low and careful.
The girl paused. Her fingers stilled against the needles, eyes flicking up to study him for the first time without all that steel in them.
“No need to apologize,” she said, gentler now. “The day hasn’t been the kindest to me.”
She yanked at her project something half-made and angry with color, thread coiled tight like it was holding its breath. “I shouldn’t take it out on you. If anything, I should be used to it by now.” She huffed, more to the yarn than to him, jaw clenching like there was more she wanted to say but didn’t trust the space between them enough yet.
Ony shifted his weight, thumb hooking in his belt loop. His voice came quiet, almost a whisper. “Day ain’t been kind to me neither.”
That made her pause again. Just long enough for the cat to flick its tail against her hip, like it was waiting too.
She didn’t look at him when she spoke next, just patted the empty space beside her blanket, fingers brushing away twigs and grass. “Well… you can sit if you want. You look like you been walking without knowin’ where to land.”
Ony hesitated. His eyes flicked down, he hadn’t really looked before, not properly. But now the way the fabric clung to her arms, the soft rise of her chest as she breathed, the bare skin of her calves peeking beneath the hem, it struck him all at once.
It wasn’t scandalous in the way church folks used the word. But it was… intimate. Delicate. Dressed like that, back home, she’d be in her own bedroom or padding barefoot through the kitchen fetching tea for her mother. Not out here in the woods with a stranger.
His throat worked as he swallowed. “You sure?”
She gave a half-smile without looking at him. “I wouldn’t’ve asked if I wasn’t.”
He rubbed the back of his neck again, cheeks burning as he eased himself down beside her careful to leave a respectful distance, hands resting flat against his thighs like he was trying not to touch anything at all. The cat stretched between them like it was measuring the space.
They sat in silence.
Not the kind that crawled under your skin like Sunday tension or lingered like unsaid prayers, but something softer. Still. Ony sat with his hands folded, shoulders loose for once. The weight he always carried in his spine, the pressure to square his chest, to be something righteous and loud — eased without permission.
The girl kept knitting. Her fingers moved fast, urgent almost, like she was working through a thought with each loop and pull. The cat yawned, curling into a perfect comma between them.
Then, without looking at him, she said it low:
“Your head’s loud again. Makin’ the wind brush by a lil too fast. Gettin chilly. ”
Ony blinked, brows pulling together.
“Just breathe,” she added.
He did. And it wasn’t a deep breath or a proud one, but something real. It slid out of him slow, quiet. A breath he hadn’t known he was holding.
The wind slowed. The trees settled.
So did he.
The silence between them didn’t ache like it did at home. It stretched warm, quiet—not something to fix, just something to feel. Ony let his eyes drift to her hands, how fast they moved, like they had somewhere to be.
“You always knit this fast?” he asked, voice low.
She gave a soft shrug, not looking up. “Only when I’m tryin’ not to cuss or cry. It helps. Pullin’ somethin’ ugly outta me and making it useful.”
Ony nodded slowly, watching the rhythm of her fingers. The thread danced between her knuckles like it knew a secret language.
“You… think you could show me how?”
That made her pause. She looked at him for a beat, then down at her lap, like she was weighing it. Finally, she held up a half-finished square of fabric — dark, tight with frustration.
“You sure?” she asked. “Most men too proud to sit still with something this soft.”
“I’m not most men,” Ony murmured, not meeting her eyes.
She smiled, not wide but real, and shifted a little to the side. " I’ll show you.”
He shifted closer, slow like the earth might split if he moved too fast. She handed him the needles, warm from her fingers, and the yarn, coarse but strangely comforting.
“Keep your hands steady,” she said, voice softer now. “Let it pass through like water. Don’t grab it so tight.”
Ony tried, fumbling at first. She reached over, guiding his fingers without making a big deal out of it. Her hands were smaller than his, but surer—she shaped him like she did the thread, gentle but firm. “You’re teachin’ me to do women’s work,” he muttered, half teasing.
She snorted. “I’m teachin’ you to keep your mind from rot. Don’t matter what shape the work come in.”
That made him smile without thinking.
“You always talk like that?” he asked. he asked, glancing at her from beneath his lashes. “Like you halfway know what God whisperin’ before He even say it?” She didn’t answer right away. Just tilted her head, lips twitching like she was deciding how much to give away.
“You asked me that before,” she said finally.
He blinked. “Did I?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Well…” He scratched the back of his neck. “You talk like my granny, but you don’t look eighty-six.”
That made her laugh—real and full, spilling out of her like light. She leaned back a little, grinning at him. “Your granny must’ve been sharp.”
“She was,” Ony said, quiet now, surprised at the warmth threading through his chest. He let the silence sit between them again, but it didn’t feel empty — it felt close. And when their eyes met for just a second too long, something shifted.
Not loud. Not sudden. Just… true.
Then nip.
“Agh—damn!” Ony yelped, jerking slightly as Mama, the cat, sunk her teeth gently into his thigh like she’d had enough of the moment.
The girl rolled her eyes. “Mama don’t like when people get too comfortable.”
“She got good timing,” Ony muttered, rubbing his leg and glaring at the cat, who looked smug and settled right back down beside her. “Guess she figured you needed some grounding.”
They both laughed, the weightlifting again, but not gone. Just resting for now. Ony glanced down at the cat, still lounging like she owned the blanket and the girl both. He reached out a slow hand—Mama narrowed her eyes but didn’t move.
“How long you had her?” he asked, voice lower now, thoughtful.
The girl’s fingers slowed around the yarn. “Seven years,” she said, quiet.
He looked up. “That long?”
“She showed up a few hours after my mama passed.” Her voice was steady, but there was something buried in it—like a scar covered by a silk scarf. “Just… appeared on the porch. Sat right at the door like she was waitin’. Like she knew.”
Ony said nothing, only watched her face.
“I like to think she is my mama. In some way,” she went on, threading the needle through the yarn faster now. “Mama always said she’d come back as a black cat. Said it’d suit her. Misunderstood. Proud. Particular. Protective.”
Her lips curved faintly. “And she was all three.” Mama let out a slow purr, as if in agreement.
“I believe that,” Ony murmured.
She looked over at him, brows lifted slightly.
“Why?”
He shrugged, then shook his head. “I don’t know. Just feels true. Like the way certain songs make you cry even if you don’t understand the words.”
She smiled at that, soft, almost grateful.
“You always talk like that?” she teased.
He grinned. “Guess we even now.”
Their laughter faded into the breeze, the knitting needles tapping steady again. Somewhere in all of it, Ony realized — he hadn’t thought about the tightness in his chest for minutes now. Minutes that felt like something more than time.
The wind shifted, sharp and sudden, cutting through the thick afternoon air like a knife dipped in river water. It brushed against Ony’s arms and made the fine hairs on his skin rise. But it wasn’t the cold that made him stiffen.
It was the girl.
She froze. Fingers gone still, the thread limp in her lap. Her body locked up like a porch swing caught mid-sway. Even Mama, curled smug and sleepy just moments ago, lifted her head, ears flicking forward, eyes narrowed at something just beyond the trees.
“You alright?” Ony asked, leaning a little closer, voice hushed like he didn’t want to disturb whatever had just walked through them. She didn’t answer right away. Just blinked like she was trying to remember how. Then nodded slowly, though it didn’t quite reach her shoulders.
“Sometimes the wind don’t come to cool,” she murmured, barely audible. “Sometimes it’s just passin’ through, carryin’ somethin’ behind it.” Ony glanced around, suddenly more aware of how quiet it had gotten. No birds. No rustle of leaves. Just wind and the low hum of something beneath it.
“What’s it carryin’?”
She shook her head. “Don’t know yet. But Mama felt it too.”
The cat was on her feet now, tail low, pressed against the girl's side like she might need to bolt — or block. “You should get home soon,” the girl said gently, but her eyes didn’t meet his. They were somewhere else. “Sun’s not as strong as it looks.”
Ony didn’t move.
“I’ll walk you,” he offered, his voice surer than he felt.
But she just gave a tiny smile, one that didn’t match the new edge in the air. “I’ve walked through worse.”
They stood at the edge of the clearing now, where the trees swallowed the sun in long shadows. Ony hadn’t realized how far they’d wandered — or maybe how far she’d led him. The cat weaved between their ankles, brushing its side against Ony’s boot one last time before settling back by her feet.
He took a step back, not wanting to go, but knowing the air had changed again. “You gon’ tell me your name?”
She paused, gathering up her needles and thread. The question hung in the air like smoke before she finally spoke, voice light but low, like a secret.
“You already know it.”
“I don’t.”
She looked up, lips curving into something half-playful, half-knowing. “Well, that’s what makes it fun.”
He gave her a look, amused and a little flustered. “Alright then… I’m Onyakopon.”
“I know,” she said softly, the smile not leaving her face. He blinked, surprised, then chuckled. “’Course you do.”
Their hands met then — a shake at first, but it lingered. Her hand was soft but firm, warmer than the wind that had just passed.
They didn’t speak as they held it. Just let it stretch, like maybe neither of them was quite ready to leave. Then her fingers curled, just slightly. “Be mindful,” she said, voice almost too quiet for the air. “Of what you carry. Of whom you follow. Everything that feels wrong right now. It's not all in your head.”
Ony’s brows drew together. He opened his mouth to ask what she meant, but she was already turning away, Mama trotting ahead like she knew the way. He stood there watching, rooted in place, as the girl moved between the trees, slipping into them like smoke. Her nightgown caught the last bit of light, white and fluttering like wings.
Then she was gone.
Like something holy. Or something beautifully haunting.
By the time Ony reached the porch, the sun was kissing the edge of the horizon, everything soaked in that strange amber glow that made shadows long and soft. His boots thudded against the wooden steps, and the familiar creak under the third board welcomed him home like it always did. Inside, the house was warm and humming with domestic rhythm. Dishes clinked softly, the smell of stewed okra and baked bread thick in the air. His mother stood at the head of the table, her sleeves rolled to the elbow, humming a hymn under her breath as she laid out silverware. Leah was beside her, placing the cornbread down with careful hands over a dishcloth.
They both looked up when he stepped in.
His mother’s eyes lingered. “Told you I’d be back before supper,” Ony said, brushing a hand over his neck, suddenly conscious of how the wind still clung to his shirt, like he’d brought the outside in with him.
"Mm make sure you wash them hands before sittin' at my table." She didn’t say more and went back to setting forks.
Leah’s eyes flickered between the two brothers as Caleb appeared from the back hall, wiping his hands on a dish towel. Ony tensed instinctively, but Caleb didn’t say anything just stared at him for a second too long. The air in the room wasn’t hostile. But it wasn’t settled either. Ony felt it swirl around him, curious and careful, like everyone was waiting for something to crack.
He moved toward the sink to wash his hands, nodding toward his mother as he passed. “Smells good in here, Ma.”
She nodded again, this time more gently, then glanced toward Caleb like she was measuring something unsaid between them.
No one asked where he’d gone.
And he didn’t offer it.
But as he dried his hands and found his usual seat, he thought of her—bare feet in the grass, humming low, thread dancing between her fingers like it had a mind of its own.
The clink of forks against ceramic was the loudest sound at the table. Ma had made stew, rich and spiced, but it tasted like sawdust in Onyakopon’s mouth.
“Had a little heat between you two earlier,” Pa said without looking up, spoon cutting through his bowl. “Behold, how good and how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in unity.”
Ony didn’t look at Caleb, though he felt the verse land like a stone between them. Psalm 1:33, yeah — but it had the weight of Cain and Abel behind it, and they all knew it.
Caleb just scoffed under his breath.
“Yesterday’s service ended early,” Caleb said casually, like a man mentioning the weather. “Soon as that girl came 'long Whole congregation cleared out like they caught the plague.
Ma sneered without missing a beat. “Never met such an unlady-like woman. Wandering about with a devil’s pet, whisperin’ to trees like they whisper back. But Lord knows she can stitch. Shame every thread feel like a curse.”
Ony’s grip tightened around his spoon. He stared down into his stew, letting the broth steam up his face like fog. He didn’t say anything — not about her hands, not about her voice, not about the way she said his name like she’d always known it.
Ony felt a strange ache twist inside him at her words, a pull toward the woman Ma so openly despised. He kept his jaw tight, the silence settling even heavier around the table.
Leah shifted uneasily, but no one else spoke. The candle flickered low, and the weight of unspoken things hung thick between them.
“Boy,” Pa said suddenly, voice firm. “You best get out your head. A man’s got no business sittin’ at his father’s table starin’ off into the dark.”
Ony blinked slowly, but didn’t answer.
“You think you grown? Then act like it. Ain’t no room in this house for cloudy minds and foolish obsessions. You wanna be a man, be one. Handle your kin. Get your head on straight. Get your spirit right.”
Still, Ony didn’t speak — not to him. His eyes stayed low, locked on the chipped edge of his plate. Then, like something creeping up from his chest without permission, his voice slid out low, almost like it didn’t belong to him
“What makes her a bad person for lovin’ trees a lil bit?”
The room froze.
Ma’s hand stilled halfway to her cup. Leah’s fork clinked quietly against her plate. Caleb leaned back slow in his chair, face unreadable. Pa narrowed his eyes. “What you just say?”
“I just mean…” Ony muttered, spearing a piece of fried okra with his fork, “she’s a woman with a pet cat? That knits.” He shrugged like it was nothing, then stuffed the food in his mouth, chewing slow, like he hadn’t just cracked the air in two.
Ma’s eyes narrowed. “That thing ain’t no pet. Strays like that don’t belong in the house of the Lord — or round decent folk like the ones in our community.”
Caleb scoffed under his breath, reaching for his cup. “Ain’t about the cat. It’s the way she carries herself. Like she knowin’ things she ain’t supposed to.”
“That woman ain’t right, Ony,” Pa said, voice low and warning. “Mark my words. Ain’t no good ever come from women who walk like they float and talk like they pray to the moon.”
Ony didn’t respond. Just kept chewing, like maybe the weight of the room couldn’t touch him if he didn’t let it. But his ears were hot, and his throat ached in a way that food couldn’t soothe.
Leah, quiet all this time, finally spoke, voice soft as usual. “She knitted my apron. The one with the sunflowers. It’s… pretty.”
Ma turned sharply. “And you best not wear it again. We don’t know what spirits she stitched into that thread.”
Ony’s silverware scraped the plate a little too loud when he's told up.
“I’ll go wash up,” he mumbled, though his plate wasn’t empty. “Y’all keep on eatin’. Thank you for the dinner mama"
He didn’t wait for permission. Just turned and walked toward the back, the screen door creaking open as he stepped onto the porch, letting the night air slap him clean.
Behind him, the candle flickered.
The back porch creaked under his weight, old wood sighing like it remembered too much. No one came out here anymore — not since Granny passed. Her wicker chair still sat in the corner, covered in a thin film of dust and memories. Ony didn’t sit there. He chose the steps instead, letting the night press in close, heavy and still.
Crickets sang. The wind tugged gently at the trees, and for the first time all day, nobody asked him to be anything. He let his shoulders drop. Let his jaw unclench.
Then came the sound — soft, slow, deliberate.
The screen door moaned open behind him.
He didn’t turn, not at first, until he heard the light step on the porch — and then a bottle clink. He glanced over his shoulder.
Leah stood there, caught like a deer in her round belly stretching the front of her dress. In one hand, a dusty wine bottle; in the other, just shame.
“It won’t hurt the baby,” she said quickly, blinking like she might cry or laugh or both.
Ony raised his eyebrows and looked back out at the dark yard. “I get why you need it,” he said flatly. “Dealin’ with this family’ll make you wanna drink holy water straight from the font.”
That earned him a quiet laugh — small and bitter.
Leah walked over and sat beside him with a sigh, the bottle tucked between her knees. “I ain’t drinkin’ for real. Just wanted to hold it. Make it feel like I had a choice, even if I don’t.”
Ony hummed, a low sound in his throat.
“You and me both.”
They sat in silence for a beat, the air between them not tense, just… lived in.
“You ever think ‘bout just leavin’?” she asked, voice soft, eyes fixed on the dark stretch of trees.
“All the time.”
She nodded like she expected that. “Caleb says I should be grateful. That I’m safe here. That the Lord provided. But safe don’t feel like freedom, does it?”
Ony didn’t answer.
Not out loud and the silence stretched on the kind that didn’t beg to be filled. Just two people watching the dark, pretending the quiet didn’t know all their secrets.
Leah leaned back on her hands, her fingers curling around the edge of the step. “That girl from service yesterday…” she started, voice light but lined with something sharper, “she the reason you were gone all afternoon?”
Ony didn’t look at her. Just let the question hang there in the air between them, weightless and heavy all at once.
Leah smiled to herself, not unkind. “She’s... different. Not like folks around here.”
“She’s just a girl,” Ony said finally, though it didn’t sound convincing. Not even to him.
“A girl with a black cat and a stare like she’s already seen how the world ends,” Leah murmured, like she was thinking more than speaking. “She got the whole town feelin’ itchy and lookin’ for salt.”
Ony gave a faint snort. “You 'fraid of her too?”
“No,” Leah said simply. “But I think you are.”
That made him look at her. Really look.
She met his eyes, steady, too old for her years. “Not ‘cause she’s strange. But ‘cause she see somethin’ in you been tryin’ to bury.”
Ony didn’t respond. Couldn’t, really. His throat felt tight.
“She’s not evil. You’re right bout that part. Just a girl with a heavy hurt, a cat, and a different sense of faith. This town… it’s so close-minded, full of fear. The moment someone different comes along, folks scream ‘Satan’ or worse.”
“We used to be friends,” she said after a pause, like weighing whether to share too much. “Before her pa got caught up in some things. Before he disappeared. She was always so strange. Picking up bugs, talking to the ground, like she’d been here a thousand years instead of thirteen.”
She laughed, a soft, distant sound. “I used to joke she was a grandma reincarnated.”
Ony huffed out a soft laugh but then her smile faded, shadowed by memories. “When her daddy vanished, she was… calm. Like the universe does things for a reason. Said everything done in the dark will come to light.”
Her eyes darkened further. “Her mother got real sick after that. Took her own life.” She flicked squeeze the dusty wine bottle, then leaned in closer, voice dropping to a whisper. “Your daddy… I think he’s got
something to do with it all.”
Ony’s heart tightened. "How so?"
“She told me once, before her dad disappeared, he was there. And minutes after he left, her mother… she was found splattered all over her bed.” She made a finger-gun motion, sharp and cutting through the heavy air.
Silence fell again, heavy and still.
Then Leah sniffled — barely — and blinked fast. Her voice wavered, thinner now. “You know… she’s the one who told me I was pregnant before I even knew? I really hope this conversation stays between us.”
She paused, swallowing thickly. “Couple months back, when I was real sick and you and Caleb were out runnin’ errands… she came by. Her and that damn cat. I hadn’t seen her since we were fifteen. Daddy forbid me from ever seein’ her again. Said she was a witch. Imagine my shock when she showed up at my doorstep eleven years later — all grown, and God help me, even more beautiful than when we were kids.”
She let out a shaky breath and laughed weakly, rubbing her stomach.
“She put her hands on my belly like she already knew me. Told me I’d be the most wonderful mother. Like she saw it, clear as day.” Her voice cracked. “Knitted me a little hat… and an apron to fit my belly. Softest thing I ever touched. But then she said somethin’ strange. Told me this wasn’t the place to raise a child. Said I should leave.”
Leah’s eyes lifted to his, wet but steady now.
Leah stayed quiet for a moment, her shoulders hunched and small despite the swell of her belly. The bottle hung loosely in her grip, the wine sloshing quietly like it too was listening.
Then, almost like an afterthought—but heavier than anything she’d said before—she murmured, “Something’s eatin’ your Ma, your Pa… even Caleb. They ain’t the same no more, Ony. I can feel it in my bones.”
She stood carefully, steadying herself with the porch railing. Her eyes met his one last time.
“You take care of yourself, Onyakopon. Don’t let ‘em make you blind to what’s right in front of you.”
She handed him the wine bottle, fingers lingering for a moment on his, then let go. Her silhouette disappeared into the dark hallway behind her, door creaking shut behind her like a breath held too long.
The next morning, Ony woke to a scream that didn’t belong to him for once.
It came from the guest room.
Leah had miscarried.
The house felt like it was holding its breath, heavy and suffocating. Caleb paced the worn floorboards, muttering under his breath, his footsteps sharp and uneven. Leah sat still in the corner, her eyes hollow, the light that had shone there just the night before completely gone.
Onyakopon watched them both, the weight of silence pressing down on him. His Ma and Pa were nowhere to be found — the house was emptier than usual, shadows gathering in every corner like unwelcome guests.
Caleb’s voice cracked as he whispered to no one in particular, “This ain’t right… none of it.”
Leah’s fingers trembled in her lap, her breath shallow, as if the air itself had turned to stone.
Onyakopon stepped closer to Leah, voice low but steady.
“I’m sorry, Leah. For everything.”
She gave a weak nod, eyes shimmering with tears but empty of hope. "You got time Ony. Leave before it touches you too"
Caleb’s pacing stopped abruptly, his shoulders stiffening like a coil about to snap. He glared at Ony, voice rough and sudden.
The house felt like it was holding its breath, thick with tension that clung to the walls like humidity before a storm. Caleb paced the floor in crooked lines, muttering beneath his breath, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. Leah sat on the edge of the couch like her soul had drained out in her sleep, her eyes puffy and distant. She hadn’t spoken more than a whisper since the scream.
Onyakopon stood in the doorway, watching. His parents were nowhere in sight. The house was too still. Wrong.
“I ain’t sayin’ nothin’ to start a fire,” Ony said gently, “but you need to sit, Caleb. You’re gonna wear a hole in the floor.”
Caleb’s steps stopped abruptly. He turned slow, like a puppet pulled too tight on its strings.
“Oh, now you care?” he said, voice dry and full of heat. “Now you got concern?”
Ony blinked. “I’ve always cared.”
“No, you don’t. You stand around lookin’ like you see through everybody, like none of this is real to you. Like we’re fools for tryin’ to build a damn life here.”
Ony’s jaw tightened. “That ain’t fair.”
“Oh, but it’s true,” Caleb spat. “You think I forgot what you said a while back? ‘A wife and baby won’t fix nothin’? You said that. You looked me dead in the eye and said that. Like all this… like Leah—”
His voice cracked. “—like the baby didn’t matter.”
Ony’s voice was low. “I never said they didn’t matter. I said it won’t fix what’s wrong with this place. This town. You know that better than anyone, Caleb.”
“No. What I know is, you mocked me. You sat at that table with your silence and your damn half-smiles and judged me. You think you’re better than me.”
“I don’t—”
Caleb stepped forward, eyes wide, glassy, something off inside them now. “You don’t? Say it with your tongue then. Look me in the face and tell me I’m not a fool for wantin’ more.”
Leah stirred, voice soft. “Caleb—”
“Don’t,” Caleb snapped without looking at her.
Ony held his ground. “You ain’t a fool, Caleb. But you’re acting like one now. You’re hurt, and I get it. But don’t come at me like I put that pain in you.”
“You put the doubt in me!” Caleb roared.
“You were the voice in the back of my head every damn day since she told me she was pregnant. And now look! Gone. Just like everything else in this cursed house.”
There was a beat — the kind of silence that comes before something breaks.
Then Caleb lunged.
The scuffle was quick but violent — desperation making up for lack of form. Ony tried to hold him off, but Caleb fought like he wanted to draw blood, like if he hurt someone else maybe the ache inside him would let up.
Leah shouted, trying to reach them, tears running down her face. “Stop it! Stop!”
Ony finally shoved Caleb back, hard enough to knock him into the wall. “What the hell is wrong with you?!”
Caleb’s chest heaved. His eyes were wrong not just angry, but dark, as if something else had stepped into him. Something watching through his face.
“You mocked me,” he said again, quieter now. “You cursed me with your mouth. You always did.”
Ony stepped back, heart pounding. “I ain’t cursed you. This place did.”
Leah stood between them, shaking, one hand stretched out like she was trying to keep them both from falling off a cliff.
“Please, Ony,” she whispered. “Just go."
He didn’t want to. He wanted to fix it — to fix him. But he saw the look in her eyes. That pleading. That fear.
So he turned and walked out the front door.
And behind him, the house groaned.
The air outside slapped his skin like cold judgment. Onyakopon didn’t know when his feet hit the porch or when the front gate swung open — he only remembered the crunch of gravel under his boots and the warm sting of blood trailing down from his eyebrow. His lip was split, throbbing with each breath. The fight with Caleb replayed in flashes behind his eyes, quick and jagged like broken glass.
He kept running.
Not because he was afraid of Caleb, but because he was afraid of what he saw in Caleb.
The sky above had gone dull and gray, not quite evening but no longer day. Birds had gone quiet. The cicadas, too. All that remained was the pounding in his ears and the sharp inhale-exhale of lungs trying to keep up.
He didn’t even realize where he was until his knees buckled beneath him, and he hit the soft grass with a grunt. Hands splayed wide, he pressed his back to the earth, letting the air wrap around him. He was in the clearing.
The tall reeds swayed around him like ghosts with no mouths, whispering only through movement. And the sky above looked... too wide. Too still.
He lay there, panting. Sweat mixed with blood. His chest rose and fell like he’d outrun death itself.
And maybe he had.
Or maybe he’d run straight into it.
His chest rose and fell like a storm settling into silence. The sky above blurred, hazy from tears he didn’t know he’d let fall. Grass pressed cool and damp against the back of his neck. His lip stung, and his brow pulsed where Caleb’s fist had landed. Blood still crusted warm at the corner of his mouth.
He closed his eyes. Just for a second.
When he opened them—
She was there.
Standing over him like a painting left out in the rain. Skirt brushing the wild grass, curls coiled like shadows catching sunlight, eyes so ancient and wide they swallowed the sky behind her. Her face was soft, full of moonlight and mourning. The kind of beautiful that didn’t beg to be noticed — it just was, like wind or thunder. There was dirt on her hem, leaves tangled in her sleeves like she’d risen straight from the woods, or maybe the earth itself. Her cat, that little ghost pressed against her ankles, then padded forward, tail flicking, and nipped at Ony’s fingers with a quiet warning.
He flinched and blinked like he might still be dreaming.
“You,” he whispered.
“I always come when the house sends you away,” she said simply.
She knelt beside him, hand grazing the grass just beside his temple, never touching just near enough to feel the air between them hum.
“You’re hurt again, physically this time”
“Didn’t come here on purpose.”
“I know,” she said. “But your blood always finds its way back to me.”
The cat settled between them, purring low, eyes unblinking like it knew all the secrets neither of them could say. Onyakopon studied her — the way her presence dulled the pain just by existing, the way her eyes never flickered with fear. He wanted to say something. Apologize for the world. Ask how she knew so much. Ask how she still smiled like hope hadn’t died with the rest of this town’s soul.
Instead, he asked, “You always show up like this?”
She shrugged, curls bouncing lightly.
“Maybe I’m your guardian angel,” she said, and for a second, he thought she might mean it.
Then, her voice dropped to something softer, sadder.
“Or maybe I just know what it’s like to get pushed out by people who pretend they love you.”
She stood again without a word, brushing dirt from her skirt like it was nothing new, like she’d done this a hundred times before. The cat circled his shoulder once, then darted ahead into the trees.
“You comin’?” she asked over her shoulder, already turning.
Onyakopon hesitated. He should’ve gone back home. Should’ve checked on Leah. Should’ve tried, one more time, to reach the brother that looked at him like a stranger now.
But instead, he pushed himself off the ground, every bruise and scrape a sharp reminder of what waiting there would cost.
He followed her.
They moved through the woods like ghosts her steps barely stirring the leaves, him limping just behind. The path wasn’t marked, but she never second-guessed her turns. Like the forest knew her. Or she knew it.
A weather-worn cottage appeared just beyond a thick grove of oaks, roof sagging under moss and time. Wind chimes made of bones and rusted spoons tinkled faintly from the porch. A line of herbs dried beneath the windows, and a narrow chimney puffed with gentle smoke.
“Don’t mind the mess,” she murmured, holding the door open.
Inside, it smelled of lavender, ash, and something green not rot, not decay, but age. Lived-in. Safe.
He stepped in, and the warmth hit him like a balm. The fire crackled. The cat disappeared somewhere deeper in the house. She gestured toward an old kitchen chair.
“Sit.”
He obeyed.
She moved through the space like she belonged in every shadow of it. Wet a cloth, brought over an old metal tin, crouched before him like he was something precious.
She wiped his lip first, gentle, patient. Then his brow.
“You bruise easy,” she said, voice nearly teasing.
“You always nurse people back to life in the woods?”
“Just you.”
He didn’t ask why. He just watched her, close now the fine lines in her expression, the way she focused like this mattered, like he mattered. Her touch was warm, but her eyes. . . her eyes were still carrying something ancient.
“Thank you,” he said quietly.
She didn’t respond right away. Just dabbed at the last of the blood, then looked up at him, expression unreadable.
“Next time,” she said softly, “don’t wait ‘til the world breaks your face to come find me again. Too handsome for all these and bruises."
Her fingers lingered on his chin, gentle, almost tender. He caught the faint scent of lavender and honey on her skin and felt heat rise in his cheeks. His eyes flickered down to his lap, suddenly shy under her steady gaze.
For a long moment, they just stayed like that close enough to feel the warmth of each other’s breath, the unspoken words hanging in the air. The cat nipped playfully at his fingers, breaking the spell, but even then, her smile held a softness that made his heart tighten.
"You hungry?"
He smiled softly meeting her eyes again, " I could eat."
She chuckled, the sound light and unexpected in the heavy silence. “Good. I don’t do fancy, but I can fix you something real.”
She stood and moved toward the small kitchen, the cat padding behind her like a loyal shadow. Ony followed slowly, still feeling the strange comfort of her presence like the world had shifted just enough to let a little light in.
#anime x black!reader#x black reader#anime x reader#aot x black y/n#eren x black reader#reiner x black reader#black fem reader#black reader#ony x black reader#𓊆ྀི onyaᝰ.ᐟ❤︎𓊇ྀི#ony x y/n#onyankopon x black reader smut#onyankopon x reader#aot onyankopon#onyankopon x black y/n#aot x black reader#aot x chubby reader#aot x reader#aot smut#aot fanfiction#connie x black reader#connie springer#x black fem reader#black writers#x chubby reader
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……we’re gonna need a fic about y/n leaving dickies on the monster trio….. and law…. Pretty please….😀🥹😙😙😙
𝔾𝕚𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕘 ℍ𝕚𝕞 𝕒 𝔻𝕚𝕔𝕜𝕖𝕪
If yall dont know what a dickey is its a hickey on a dick.
Ft. Luffy, Sanji, Zoro, Law
Blk Fem Reader in Mind
CW: Dick sucking.
Sanji

It turns him on in the worst way.
The first time you sucked his dick you overstimulated him to the point he was blabbering between “Please stop” and keep going.
The day after that he woke up to do his usual routine of getting ready when looking down to pee he noticed a small bruise under his tip.
“I—…Y/nnnnn!”
Like a child running to their parent’s room to tell them they three up he stood by your sleeping body and tapped your shoulder in a small panic.
“Y/n…baby…baby lookit.”
You were still half sleep, so turning around to see a naked Sanji with his semi- hard cock dangling 5 inches from your face made you peer up at him.
“Sanji, I told you if you wanna use me while i’m sleep use me.” You tried turning over, voice still sleepy, he wanted to laugh a little at youur drowsy voice but shook you some more.
“N-no Y/N. It’s this. This bruise you left. I think you left a hickey on me.”
That woke you up.
Sanji was shocked, and excited all at once he nearly forgot he had to get dressed to start cooking. He couldn’t stop praising you for leaving your mark on him.
“Y/N can…can you do this again”
“What?”
“IT’S GANNA WEAR OFF SOON I WANNA KEEP IT”
You on the other hand couldn’t be more embarrassed. You didn’t mean to suck his dick THAT hard. You probably should have stopped the first time you heard him scream.
Luffy

It’s very hard to leave a hickey on him at all with his rubbery ass body, you have in the past but it took A LOT of trial and error.
When you did finally pop off and away from your boyfriend’s pelvis you felt a little pride erupting from your stomach seeing a tiny little purple spot form on his shaft.
“I did it!”
“Did what.”
You never really told Luffy you wanted to leave a dickey on him. You kept it as your own personal goal so you didn’t know how to properly explain it to him
“You can do that?!” Luffy immediately sees the hickey on his dick and starts CRACKING UP as if he didn’t just cum like a whiney slut a few seconds ago.
“You’re like a puffer fish!”
“Shut up, Luffy!”
It just tickles him to know you sucked on his dick so much just to leave such a small mark. It wasn’t bad at all, but funny none theless. Now he actually expects a dickey from you.
Which.
Have fun with getting lock jaw everytime you go down on him now.
Zoro

Didn’t even know it was possible and neither did you so when you when to experiment Zoro damn near started actually moaning and whining due to overstimulation.
“O-okay okay okay fuck—you tried long enough! We can’t—FUCK—-!”
You were determined to leave that damn hickey, your mouth was wet and covered in drool, his cum, and your lips started to swell a little. Luckily you loved sucking him off anyways so this was just another Tuesday for you.
You really wanted to leave a pretty mark on his tip.
And that you eventually did.
“HA!” You smile, face wet, teary eye’d and flustered. You rub your thumb on the tip of the sensitive dick and it causes Zoro to grab your wrist.
He was absolutely exhausted.
“You got it. Please….fucking stop.”
“You’re so lame. But look! I did it!” 😁
Zoro just doesn’t understand you or the point of why you had to damn near suck the soul out of him for a bruise that’s ganna wear off in a few hours.
….He does like looking at it though. It reminds him of his slutty little girlfriend.
Law

He bruises very easily.
So this wasnt too hard you actually leave him in dickeys all the time
and everytime you point it out he hates it.
every
single
time
“I hate that fucking word.”
“I think it’s cute. Like your dick.”
“ENOUGH.”
Doesn’t get the point of it, he thinks you’re a sadist for it. You tend to bruise him up a LOT when you both get intimate.
He does get a little shy when you point out how good of a boy he was taking it. It’s almost as if he loves being praised and marked by you.
#one piece#black reader#one piece headcanons#one piece x female reader#sanji#one piece smut#sanjionepiece#one piece x black!reader#sanji imagine#sanji x black reader#sanji x reader#x female reader#female reader#black foot sanji#one piece scenario#zoro headcanons#luffy#sanji smut#zoro hcs#luffy headcanons#ronoroa zoro#one piece zoro#one piece fanart#luffy smut#luffy x reader#law imagine#trafalgar d law x reader#law headcanons#law smut#law x reader
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✰ LIL MA
✰ req: HII , CAN YOU DO E!42 MILES X FEM! BLK READER WHO'S CLINGY?? LIKE HEADCANONS genre: fluffy headcanons



warnings: ya mama a/n: OKAY IDC IF EVERYONE HAS DONE THIS BEFORE ITS A CUTE PROMPT AND IM JOINING IN ALSO TY ANON FOR THE REQUEST‼️ im running out of name ideas my creativity is deteriorating and this is pretty lazy im sorri

e42 miles would submit to your clinginess sooner or later. he isn't that fond of touch anymore since he lost someone pretty close to him
e42 miles would be caught off guard by your hugs and random kisses on the cheek
e42 miles likes when you lay down with him and stroke his back with your nails, it keeps him up at night
e42 miles hates when you dont display him any time of affection for a while, as it is out of both of your schedules
e42 miles likes having your lipstick stains on his face and chest
e42 miles enjoys your displays of PDA even if it gets him embarrassed
e42 miles gets slightly annoyed but feels loved whenever you ask where he is and what he's doing every 5 minutes
e42 miles loves your hugs any time of the day
e42 miles thinks your hands are soft so he loves holding them
e42 miles gets shy whenever you kiss his cheek or his hands (especially if he has rings)
e42 miles is sure you have an album in your phone of pictures of him with kisses all over

© hiimayee
#miles morales#miles g morales#miles morales x reader#across the spiderverse#miles morales blurbs#e!42 miles morales#earth 42 miles morales x reader#earth 42 miles x reader#earth 42 miles morales#42 miles morales#earth 42#miles 42
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Hii :3 How are u?
Could we have a Hakari x black!bimbo!fem!reader ? I have such a soft spot for bimbos istg 💞💞
━━ ❝ so pink, so cutie ❞


☾₊‧⁺...cw : hakari kinji x blk!bimbo!fem!reader, smut, penetrative sex, dirty talk, rough sex, wet and messy, riding, cowgirl position, squirting, a single spank (I think), praise kink, kinji loves playing with your hair, kinji being a bully
☾₊‧⁺...a/n : mm i am not very sure yet how to write bimbo reader so I did my best, but more practice will probably help me get it right ❤︎
☾₊‧⁺...synopsis : you want to prove to hakari you can ride him without help, and he can't help but appreciate how cute you look doing it
hakari couldn't help himself, his hands were always in your hair, playing with your soft curls. he wondered the next time you get braids or faux locs in, hoping you'd get them in another cute color.
feeling you dig your nails into his shoulders makes him think. maybe you'd get them to match your pretty nails with his initial on your ring finger's nail. yeah, thinking of you with purple to match his hair with gold accessories would look perfect on you.
"k-kinjiiiii, stop daydreaming when i'm fucking you, dummy!"
magenta eyes snap back to you, his hand giving a little tug to your hair. "don't be a brat, cupcake, my girl just looks so incredible t'day," he fake pouts, his free hand caressing your hip as his fingers brush against the bunched-up fabric of your negligee.
you really do look so stunning on top of him like this, a little shy smile on those glossy lips as you bounce in his lap, sweet moans falling from your lips. the noises you're making are too quiet for his liking, though. he wants to flip you over so bad and fuck into your soaked hole and make you scream his name.
but hakari couldn't.
wouldn't.
not when just a little bit ago you were pleading with him to let you take control and ride him, giving him those 'innocent' doe eyes and that cute little pout on that mouth that was practically begging for him to push his cock into.
so here he is, letting his princess of a girlfriend use him for her pleasure...even though he could see you struggling each time you slid down to the base, a pitiful moan leaving you each time.
it was so cute how you were trying so hard, not wanting to give in and ask him for help, knowing you were so close to cumming, slow movements shifting to desperate grinding and bouncing on his cock.
the sight of you desperately fucking yourself on him has hakari groaning, hips unconsciously bucking up into you. "god, baby, look at you...fuck, you're taking me so well, you can do it," he coos in a low voice, savoring this new side of you.
the slick feeling of your gummy walls massaging him, practically strangling his cock was making him light-headed.
"such a pretty thing, my good girl, keep takin' that dick, baby, making your kinji so fuckin' proud."
your legs are shaking as you continue to ride him, hands resting on his chest as your eyes flutter shut, sweet whimpers as messy, wet noises start to fill the room.
his praise, it was always his praise that got you. it made you nearly go dumb on his dick, wanting him to keep saying how good you were doing, how pretty you looked, how good it felt for you to ride him.
getting lost in your head, you miss the way hakari let out a deep groan, eyes focusing on where you both were connected. you always were such a mess, but seeing how fucking wet you’re getting him right now...
each time you lift yourself up, sticky, wet strands of your slick connect to hakari's lap from your inner thighs and the sight is sinful, making his head fall back from the pang of need that shot down his spine, cock twitching in your warm cunt.
you had no idea what you did to him, did you?
those familiar little tears start to stream down your face as you grow closer and closer to your peak, cunt trying to milk him as you triy so hard to fuck yourself to orgasm...but you just couldn't, you couldn't get the angle right, couldn't grind the way kinji did.
and he can tell what you need, seeing you struggle to figure it out as you had this almost dumb look of confusion on your face as your moans turn to frustrated huffs, your bouncing turning to desperate humping.
as cute as it is to see you like this, he's had enough and knows he needs to take control. your inexperience with riding is edging you and him.
and hakari kinji does not get edged.
"aww, are y'crying? cupcake, you're so fucking spoiled, you know that, right?" he teases, a grin on his face when he sees the way you try to not giggle from his words, eyes immediately rolling back when he plants his feet onto the mattress and starts fucking up into you, that smug grin still on his face.
"k-kinjiiiii!" you practically squeal, falling forward onto his chest as he ruined your insides. "k-kin, kin, no fair, wanted-oh-w-wanted to do it," you whined, barely able to formulate a sentence with how he pounded up into you.
the bratty little words that left you send a surge of desire through hakari, and he can't help but laugh.
he was fucking you good, your gummy walls stretching to take each one of his thrusts as your pussy coats him in a constant stream of wetness, and you had the nerve to whine right now?
god, he's spoiled you rotten, hasn't he?
"mmh, but babyyyyy, you just needed your man to fuck you, right? you did so goddamn good, dolly, rode me 'til you made a lil' mess of me," he hisses, taking his bottom lip between his teeth when he feels how you clench on him so perfectly. "s'okay, I saw you struggling a bit, let me take care of you, lemme fuck this tight cunt, pretty girl."
you're so needy for hakari. it's almost cruel how the tip of his cock rams up against that spongy spot inside you that makes you cry his name, feeling his fingers dig into the fat of your ass as he keeps you from moving away from the sensitivity too much.
your eyes roll back into your head, drool dripping down your bottom lip and chin as hakari's hips slam up into yours, a dark chuckle leaving him between groans at your disheveled state. he loved that he could get his pretty baby stupid on his cock like this. it was so cute.
"you're takin' it soooo good, cupcake, you've learned to take my dick like, shit, like this, y'know that? fuck, so perfect, my perfect girl." hakari savors each and every sob you gave him, eyes never leaving your fucked out state.
your eyes drip with tears as you couldn't do anything but take it, body in heaven as you lost the will to be bratty with him. after all, you loved when hakari would take control and make you feel good when he saw you struggle.
he was a fucking sucker for making his pretty girl feel good.
"kinji, 'm gonna cum," you softly moan, so soft and quiet that told him this was going to break you. god, you were so fucking cute/ he could feel your pretty cunt squeezing him so tightly, each slide of his cock causing obscene squelching to fill the room.
hearing you say you were close, hakari quickerns his pace, his breathing heavy as his fingers dug into the fat of your ass, helping you meet his pace.
"s'okay," he panted, urging you as his magenta eyes locked to yours. you could see that he wanted you, and the pure, desperate need in his eyes made you moan his name.
he loved you so much, it was obvious, but every time you looked into his eyes when he buried his cock into you like this, each time that sweet drag of his cock made your cunt get wetter, you could tell one thing.
hakari was doing this for your pleasure and his top priority was making you feel good.
"you're so close, i can feel it, I can fucking feel it, baby. let go for me, lemme feel that pussy cum for me," he rasped, eyes fluttering shut as he cursed under his breath.
"k-kinji, kin, kinjiii, i'm cumming!"
"good fucking girl, fuckin' give it to me, doll, don't stop cumming, keep going."
it's so pretty to hear it come from your lips, but so much better when he feels it. your twitching and shivering, pussy fluttering around his fat cock that just keeps fucking thrusting into you, and you can't help but burst.
hakari's eyes darkened with possessive lust when he felt the start of it, his lower half suddenly wetter than before. you just squirted. hell, you still fucking are as he keeps moving, and suddenly hakari doesn't think this'll be the last round of tonight.
his pretty little angel just unlocked something inside of him that he knows he's never gonna get enough of, groaning at the sensation of you stretching his chest once the stimulation gets too much, his hips slowing down to give you a little break.
sweet little babbles of his name and incomplete sentences light you as you rested your head on his chest, pussy giving little squeezes as you tried to get your thoughts back.
"poor thing, i made you squirt? aww, c'mere babyyy, it's okay, it's hot as fuck, I promise. mm...can i cum, princess? you gonna let me cum?" he softly asks you, looking into your eyes as one of his hands comes up from your hip to your curls again, playing with it to get you to come back to him.
"oh, baby, i really fucked you stupid, didn't i..." hakari shifts, as if he's about to pull out of you, but he's stopped when you grind back down onto him, a choked moan escaping him.
"noooo, don't pull out, kin, you can't," you whine, finally able to lift yourself off his chest a little. you look a mess. mascara is running down your cheeks, your eyeliner is smudged a little, and it looks like all of your lip gloss came off...too bad, he loved how it made your plump lips look so kissable.
when you look like this, he has to fuck you again...yeah, he's gonna do his job right and stuff that pretty pussy with his cum, make sure his princess is nice and full.
"shit...get on your back, cupcake, you look so pretty. I'm gonna fuck you just a lil' more, okay? i wanna fill you up, dolly...let's see if we can make you squirt again too, hm?"
all rights reserved © lxnarphase | do not repost, copy, translate, or alter my work
#hakari kinji x reader#hakari kinji smut#hakari x you#hakari kinji x you#hakari x reader#hakari smut#jjk x you#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#🥃 ── kinji.#˗ˏˋ ★ lxnarworks .ᐟ
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⋆⭒˚。⋆ so american ( hobie brown ) !
.𖥔 ݁ ˖✎ᝰ synopsis — " he laughs at all my jokes and he says i'm so american. " blk reader.
࿐ ࿔*:・゚contains — ooc (?) hobie, fluff, swearing, atsv!hobie brown, hobie is taller than you no matter what, very very slight.
✧˚ ༘ ⋆。˚ tia speaks — because nobody told olivia to write such a cute song like my goodness. i love this song so bad ( almost as bad as i love accented men ) so i had to write a piece inspired by it ! i am also using this to be a complete feminism nerd and i almost wrote something similar with another olivia song lol. i totally recommend reading this whilst listening to 'so american' by olivia rodrigo !! happy reading !
despite his punk exterior, hobie is the best boyfriend you've ever had.
you'd first met hobie when you were selected to speak at a diversity conference in london. you were studying abroad in the middle of your second year of university, using the excuse of 'furthering your education' to read authentic european literature and cross of some of your bucket list. he was doing his usual routine when he swung by a billboard advertising the conference. he decided to check it, never one to shy away from social politic discourse. he stopped by a few panels, taking a liking to the minority in leadership panel, before stopping by the gender and intersectionality panel.
hobie's eyebrows rose as he watched you prepare yourself for your own presentation. you were dressed in business professional with the best shaped afro hobie had ever seen. his pulse quickened as you sent the moderator a ready smile before you began speaking.
and you were so american.
your charisma was enchanting, gracefully demanding the attention of the room. you engaged with the audience as you presented, throwing in small jokes here and there to keep the crowded attentive. he even imagined your expression becoming the slightest bit bashful as he caught your eye. you ended your presentation with another dazzling smile and an adorable tilt of your head at the sound of the applause filling the room.
he was even more impressed with your ability to answers questions on the fly. it was as if you thought of every possible questions and came up with perfectly calculated answers for each of them.
"i have a question for y/n. you mentioned white feminism and black feminism as two separate movements due to the lack of inclusion of marginalized women and their concerns. does that mean that you believe that white women are inherently racist?" a commentator asked. a furrow found its way in between your brow before you answered.
"no, i called it uninclusive because i meant it did not include the needs of women who were not upper class, able, educated, white women. black feminism can include women who are not black as it's an umbrella term of sorts. it serves to uplift and represent the underrepresented and unite all feminists, not imply that all white women are racist because of one social group. there are some wonderful white women who can acknowledge their privilege and use it to uplift us all as a united front rather than living in their individual comfortability. thank you for your question."
after your panel concluded, hobie found himself searching for you in the crowd of spectators. he eventually found you holding a bouquet of flowers from the moderator as you put away your things. he casually made his way to you, slipping through the ocean of bodies before standing behind you.
"would've gotten flowers if i had known someone as smart as you would be presenting here. however, i doubt i'd be able to find anything as beautiful as you, ms. america," he charmed, immediately gaining your attention as you turned to him.
"i take it that you liked my presentation," you mused, smiling up at the man before you.
"liked it so much that i'd like to hear it again. maybe over a meal some time, yeah?"
your cheeks stung from how wide you smiled as you punched your number into his phone, telling him to text you the details.
you guys hit it off as your personalities, morals, and routines meshed almost perfectly. you finished your educational responsibilities around the same time he finished his internship, leaving the two of you with enough time to see each other at least three times a week, excluding your weekend.
he's so attentive as he remembers everything about you, including things that you mentioned offhandedly. you'll expect him to pay it no mind until he says or does something that showed you that he was in fact listening to your every word.
and he's so soft with you. underneath your boyfriend's unapproachable persona was a man who was putty in your hands. he melts into your embrace, hands gently cupping your face as he laid a breathless kiss on your lips. he was always touching you when he was in your presence. he usually opted for the casual arm hooked across your front as he rested his chin on your shoulder. it was the perfect height for you to whisper all of your jokes into his ear, ensuring that he didn't miss the chance to indulge in your humor.
you actually guessed that he was the esteemed spider-punk after having rescued you from a mid-evening robbery. you noticed the stature of the hero looked familiar as you watched him swing through the air.
"what happened here?" you asked him one lazy morning, pointing to the bruise forming on his shoulder.
"i slipped in the shower," he mumbled, pulling you closer to him as he tried to go back to sleep.
"are you sure it had nothing to do with that pole the news showed you being flung into?" you mused.
"how'd you figure?" he asked, eyes now open as he looked down at you with a tired grin.
"what kind of girlfriend would i be if i didn't know my boyfriend when i saw him?" you replied, planting a kiss on the corner of his mouth. "plus i’ve tripped over your beat up sneakers enough times to recognize them."
"sneakers," he said, copying your accent. he let out an amused gruff after you painlessly slapped his arm. "you're such an american."
he made the effort to join you for your public demonstrations, only stepping in when someone got mouthed off at you too much for his liking, knowing that you could hold your own but preferring if you didn't have to. he read all of your favorite books as well as any pieces that you mentioned to him. he participates in most of your hobbies, even picking up a few and calling them his own.
he even calls your mom, asking her how she had been since the last time he had the chance to ask. she was more excited to see him the first time you visited since meeting him. she tried to treat him as a guest, but he was set on helping her around the house, taking care of any odd problems she had.
you might just have to marry him if he keeps this shit up.
© tiathecreator 2024. all rights reserved.
#☆ — tia the creator!#hobie brown x reader#hobie brown x black reader#hobie brown#hobie x reader#hobie x black!reader#spider punk x reader#spider punk x black reader#atsv x reader#atsv x black reader#spiderman atsv x black reader#spiderman atsv
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SLOW DANCE | BANG CHAN X BLK FEM READER
Author's Note: based on the song slow dance by John Legend.



The lights dim softly, casting long shadows across the empty dance studio. You're not sure how you ended up here, alone with him, Bang Chan—leader, perfectionist, and, tonight, a man caught between the tension of music and silence. His eyes meet yours, warm but questioning, as if asking for permission to break the distance between you.
"Just one dance," he murmurs, his voice low and coaxing, a sound that wraps around you like a whisper of the music still lingering in the air. It's the kind of voice you don't deny.
He extends his hand, palm up, waiting for you to take it. The moment feels surreal, like a scene lifted from a romance drama, with time slowing down as you try to catch your breath. You're aware of the flutter in your chest, the hesitance in your fingertips, but then you reach for him, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours.
The music is slow, a heartbeat that matches the rhythm of your pulse. As he pulls you closer, every movement feels measured, deliberate. His hand rests on the small of your back, firm but gentle, guiding you as you sway together. It’s not a complicated dance—there are no grand flourishes, no practiced steps—just the two of you, moving in unison, as if the world outside has faded into nothingness.
“Do you hear that?” he asks quietly, his breath brushing against your ear. His smile is almost shy, like he's sharing a secret only you two understand. “It’s like the song was meant for this moment.”
You nod, too lost in the warmth of his presence to speak. Your heart swells with every step, as if you’ve been waiting for this moment without knowing it.
His gaze stays locked on yours, a mix of intensity and softness that steals your breath. You’ve seen him on stage countless times—fierce, commanding—but this is different. This is Bang Chan as you’ve never seen him before: vulnerable, unguarded, like he’s showing you a piece of himself he’s never revealed to anyone.
The song draws to a close, but neither of you stop moving. You stay in the rhythm of the moment, letting the silence between notes speak louder than words ever could. His forehead presses lightly against yours, and you realize that, in this stolen moment, you’ve crossed a line you can’t come back from. But you don’t mind. Not when it feels this right.
“Let’s stay like this a little longer,” he whispers, his voice barely above a breath.
You smile, feeling the soft tug of his hand, and you know—this slow dance isn’t over yet.
#kpop fanfic#kpop x black reader#kpop x reader#stray kids ambw#stray kids x reader#stay kids x blk fem reader#stray kids x blk reader#stray kids bang chan x blk fem reader#black reader#kpop x ambw#fanfic#bang chan x reader#bang chan x y/n#bang chan imagines#kpop drabbles#Spotify
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watermelon lime
recipe ♡ : alternative route- BP if hobie was mean :( here's the link to the original !
ingredients ♡ : smutty smut smut smut, mdni, hobie’s kind of an asshole but it’s nerve gratingly attractive, cockney accent, word count: 1k, hobie brown x blk!fem!reader, lots of teasing, exhibitionism, edging
notes ♡ : okay so i know this isn’t want yall wanted but fsr this is where my inspiration is blooming. ctc and headcanons are still coming but for right now here’s a sample + more to come. although this can be read without connecting back to bp, i wanted to include this “deleted scene” cause i thought it was pretty good and i wanted to share it w/you guys okay bye ily
—
Another deep exhale leaves your lungs as you stare ahead at your shaking hands. Heat blooms to the surface of your skin while Hobie’s hands traverse your body, every so often pinching or squeezing appreciatively at your plump skin. You grew to ignore the numb feeling in your legs, right about when he started slipping his cock in between your folds, dipping the tip in and out. He watched as your greedy walls sucked him in while his voice remained in your ear, taunting you with his smooth tone.
You two had been at this for a while. It had been thirty minutes since he pulled you from the cafeteria, away from the prying eyes of spiders and security cameras. He had promised it would just be a couple of minutes, just to get his mind off it. Well, that was a lie.
What Hobie “ got off “ of, was your torment, enjoying the small whines you’d make when he’d toy with your clit while pressing his lips to your neck. Or rubbing his cock in between your legs, making your pussy ache for more. The teasing had been fun at first, but after the half hour mark you were beginning to lose it, throwing yourself back on him for any sort of friction. He still refused to go inside, insisting on making your shared break worth it. Your gaze is clouded, mind immersed in a lustful haze. Hobie’s voice cuts through the fog, bringing you back down to earth.
"You wan’ me that bad, ‘mm? " Oh fuck him. Fuck him and his obnoxiously hot voice. You swallow the spit that’s collected to gather the words in your throat, ignoring your growing frustration.
" Hobie- "
"Wha' 'appened to bein' shy, love? "
"Just get inside me-"
He catches you off guard when the head of his cock swirls around your opening, capturing your slick. You shiver as you brace against the wall, as he slowly pushes a couple of inches into your sopping heat. Your pussy sobs in relief, grateful to be filled, even if not entirely. But it’s still not enough.
" Ah, ah, ah, no talkin' back. " His hands grip the soft flesh of your hips, squeezing gently. His strong hands still you, preventing you from moving any further. You could practically feel his shit-eating grin from behind, his face pressed into the back of your head, breath tickling the back of your neck. It was aggravating, how adamant Hobie was to stick to this game. As if none of this meant anything. Like the swell of your pussy around his dick didn’t make his head spin. But it was all part of the thrill. It’d be no fun if he gave in so easily.
" Don’ worry, love. You’ll get what’s comin’ t’ you. " blunt nails dig into the meat of your flesh, the soft heat of your cunt pulling him in. He bites his bottom lip, eyes glued to the spot where the two of you connect. God, you were just glazing him.
" Please. " You gasp out, wiggling your hips against his cock. Drops of your fluids fall to the ground from your movements. In any other instance the prospect of leaving evidence of your tryst would be mortifying. Hobie’s grip loosens momentarily, enamored by the mesmerizing jiggle of your ass. It would be a sweet surrender, to indulge in the tight squeeze of your walls. To pound away in abandon, relishing in the sounds that fall from your sweet lips. His resolve wavers, just for a moment, before he’s reminded of his mission.
He sucks in a breath, before exhaling. " Darlin', you're making this really hard on me. "
" Just do it! Please, before someone sees us. "
A wolfish grin appears on his face, before pressing his chest against your back. " Oh you'd hate that wouldn't ya? " His hips push forward again, settling more of his thick cock inside your core. " Someone catching us while I’m deep inside this pretty pussy? "
Your eyes wince as you blink past tears, a shudder wracking through your body at his words. As much as you’d hate to admit, that idea has entered your head more than once, not being the first time you two have tried something like this. And as embarrassing as it would be…your heart races with excitement.
The thought is blown away when he kisses at your ear, tucking one of your braids behind it. " You're beau’iful, baby. Trust me, it would be their honor. " His praise is touching, but does nothing to satiate the ever-growing knot in your belly. You had to put an end to this.
Taking a deep inhale, you plant your palms against the wall and throw your hips back against his leaking cock, trying to fit in as much of him as you can. Your thighs burn as you push your limits just for a brief moment of satisfaction. Hobie stops you immediately, a gruff tone overtaking him.
" ‘ey, knock it off. " His hands feel like lava on your already heated skin, spiking your nerves. They cement you in place, making you nearly scream in retaliation.
" Come on, Hobie! “ You didn’t care who could hear anymore, didn’t care if anyone turned the corner. This was his fault after all. He should take responsibility.
" Relax, “ he drawls out, “ you know I'm good for it. "
" Really? Or are you just gonna waste my time? "
Now, you’d never seek to toy with Hobie’s emotions (as a first attempt), but he had worn your patience thin. That and the results were always favorable. A pregnant pause fills the air, before the inevitable takes place, thanks to your insulting words. Without even giving you the chance to take them back, Hobie thrusts the entirety of himself inside your soaked hole, the tip striking a sensitive bundle of nerves. A shriek flies out of your mouth before you can stop it, his bruising pace driving you up the wall. His hips slap against your ass, feeding you every inch of his cock, as far as it can go.
“ Tha’ do i’ for you? Mm? Such a smart mouth. “ He grunts out, leaning back to watch how your hole swallows him up. “ Wha’ ‘appened to my good girl, eh? She don’ like me no more? “ You sob into the wall, resting your head against your hands. Your legs instinctively spread wider, allowing him to hit deeper. Voice hoarse and eyes watery, you blurt out,
“ You’re such an asshole. “ Much like before, his voice is taunting in your ear, sharp canines ghosting along the shell.
“ Don’ act like you don’t love it. “
#hobie brown#across the spiderverse#hobie x black!reader#x black fem reader#hobie x blk!fem!reader#astv hobie#hobie spiderverse#spider punk#samples#hobie brown smut#hobie brown x reader#spider punk x reader#atsv#atsv smut
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Happy Halloween…🧡🖤🧡🖤



Notes: Special post for halloween 😍🤗 this is what the poll was for too btw. Not a continuation of my mini series either. Not proof read.
Content: Nerd!Armin x blk!fem reader, mentions of drinking and one sorta nsfw joke at the end
It’s halloween night and this time it wasn’t Eren throwing a party but Reiner. You didn’t like him that much but a party’s a party and it’s halloween!!
You decided on a vampire like fit since it was last minute. You were going with Mikasa and Eren who just decided to be thing one and thing two.
The party wasn’t far so the three of you decided to walk. Eren and Mikasa went to your house to pick you up so you alll could walk together.
“You’ll finally get to meet Armin!” Mikasa exclaimed as you three walked to the party.
From what you knew Armin was their 3rd friend before you and was realll nerdy now so he was often caught up with homework or studying. You went sure how Eren or Mikasa convinced him to put the book down for a party but you were a bit glad tbh. You really wanted to meet him especially since you had a thing for nerdy guys maybe he was cute…
It was obvious which house the party was behind held at. The music was so loud you could faintly hear it at your own house!
Once inside you, Eren and Mikasa push through a sea of dancing monsters, fake celebrities and other goofy dressed people. Eren got distracted somewhere in that sea but you and mikasa made it to a kitchen area. Mikasa yells she’s going to get a drink but you barely hear her so you just nod while still walking.
You weren’t really sure where to go or what to. You thought about getting a drink or two yourself but before you can finish that thought you bump into a slightly tall ghostface.
“Oh, sorry, my fault.” You say quickly looking at him.
He just stands there a bit and you were about to question it until Mikasa catches up to you.
“Im back- Oh hey Armin!”
Oh, so this was Armin?
He just waves and you both look at each other. Mikasa notices and tries to further introduce you two.
It’s still kinda awkward and also kinda hard to hear so Mikasa pulls you two outside where there were let people.
“Guys loosen up! It’s a party!” Mikasa exclaimed taking a sip from here drink. “Y’know what? You two just need a drink too, wait right here!”
And just like that she was off. You were starting to think she was an extreme lightweight.
“Soooo..” You said breaking the ice. “What made you not wanna nerd out tonight?”
Armin shrugged and looked down then away.
“What’s your major?” You ask.
He mutters something that has science at the end of it.
Smirking you say, “Can you take your mask off? I cant hear you..”
He slowly takes the mask off and you’re baffled.
He has the rosiest cheeks right now but he also had gorgeous blue eyes and soft looking lips. Also the curliest looking blonde hair. Adorable.
“Hey handsome..” You said playfully poking him. He just smiled and looked away.
Clearly he was shy but you found that cute as hell.
Mikasa comes back with two cups and hands them to you both.
“He’s so shy, Kasa..” You whisper in her ear.
“He’s just like that at first just give it time.” She says. “I’m gonna go dance and find Eren you two have fun out here ok?”
“Sureee..” You say sipping from the cup.
She runs off and you look back at the blushing blonde boy in front of you.
“Comeon, talk to me Min.” You say playfully.
His face reddens at the nickname and he says, “I like your costume..”
“Thankssss!” You twirl for him. “I liked yours too.”
He smiled.
The two of you talked outside for a bit longer. Armin finally started to open up more especially with the drink in his system. He even accidentally slipped he thought you were stunning and hot.
“Aw, thank you minniee!!” You say giddy.
He looks very embarrassed because of that but still smiles at your reaction.
“Hey, so i gotta go but…can i get your number?” Armin asks.
You smile big and quickly write your number on a candy wrapper and hand it to him saying, “Happy Halloween!”
He chuckled at this and turned to leave.
You were sad to see him go but once he did the party started dying down and here comes Mikasa again. This time Eren is with her.
“She partied too hard so times up, y/n.” Eren laughed.
“Nuh uh.” Mikasa says wobbling a bit.
You laughed and started walking with them. Eren asks about armin and how he missed him and you tell him he’s fine.
“He was dressed as ghost head!” Mikasa exclaimed.
“Ghostface.” You corrected.
“Well so was Connie and Marco.” Eren says. “I couldn’t tell who was who!”
Just then you get a buzz in your pocket from your phone. As Mikasa and Eren talk about party and read the text you got from and unknown sender.
- Hey, It’s Armin…
- I know vampires suck blood but i’d love to know if you’re down to suck something else ;)
You smile big at your phone as you demand an address. Did you just score a cute boy who happens to be intelligent as well??
Oh happy halloween to you….
#nerd armin#aot x black reader#aot armin#armin attack on titan#armin x reader#armin x black !fem reader#armin x y/n#nerd armin x black reader#nerd armin arlert#nerd alert#aot imagines#aot x female reader#aot x poc!reader#aot x reader#armin imagines#arminarlert#armin x black reader#x female reader#x fem!reader#x black reader#x black fem reader
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You can take it , can’t you? GHOSTFACE X CAMBOY! FTM! BLK! READER

WARNINGS!!! Knife play, Dubcon, Unprotected sex, Violence, Recording
Made by @ovrstimm
Author note- the reader is suppose to be mid size with the idea of a bigger butt and big thighs but there’s not much mention but expect like once or twice not proof read so sorry about that !! Hope u enjoyed semi my first fanfic minus the boothill also lots of they/them prns bc not everyone who is FTM uses he prns!!
Ghostface watches from the shadows as ___ films their lewd video. He grins wickedly behind his mask, enjoying the erotic show. After a few minutes, he decides to make his presence known.
"Well well, what do we have here?" Ghostface says in his signature distorted voice as he steps into the room, knife in hand. "Mmm, I like what I see. Keep going, don't stop on my account."
He approaches you slowly, drinking in the sight of their curvy body. Ghostface reaches out to caress your thighs.”Such a naughty boy, putting on a show like this. I think you deserve a reward..."
In one swift motion, Ghostface grabs you and shoves your face-down over the bed. exposing your plump ass and dripping pussy. Ghostface runs his knife teasingly along your folds.
"Let's give your fans something really hot to watch, shall we? Don't worry, I'll make sure you enjoy every second of it.”
Ghostface smirks as he presses the cold metal handle of the knife against your wet entrance. He rubs it up and down your slit teasingly.
"Mmm, so tight and eager. I bet you're just dying for me to fill you up, aren't you slut?" He purrs, pushing the handle inside your dripping cunt inch by inch.
Ghostface starts thrusting the knife handle in and out, fucking you with it roughly. His other hand comes down hard on your ass, leaving a red handprint.
"Take it, you filthy whore. This is what you wanted, isn't it? To be used like a cheap fucktoy?" He groans, ramming the handle deeper.
Ghostface pulls out the knife and lines up his, throbbing cock. He rubs the tip against your soaked cunt.
"Aww, is the little slut embarrassed? Don't be shy now, let all your fans see what a dirty whore you are!" He taunts cruelly.
Ghostface fucks you even harder, his heavy balls slapping against your clit with each brutal thrust. He reaches around to roughly grope your chest.
"That's it, moan for me bitch! Let them hear how much you love getting used like a cheap fucktoy. I bet you finger this sloppy cunt every night dreaming about a real man wrecking your holes."
He pulls your hair, forcing your back to arch as he rails you. Ghostface slides his free hand down to rub your clit, making you cry out.
"Cum for me whore, cum on my cock like the desperate slut you are! Then I'll paint your insides white before I paint the walls red.”
Ghostface continues to pound into you relentlessly, his thick cock stretching your tight walls. He grabs the camera and angles it to show your face, tears streaming down your cheeks as you moan and cry from the intense pleasure.
"Look at the camera slut, let them see what a pathetic whore you are!" He growls, spanking your ass hard. "I bet you've fantasized about this, getting used like a cheap fucktoy in front of an audience. Well now your dreams have come true!"
Ghostface reaches down to rub your clit roughly, making you buck and writhe on his cock. Your pussy clenches around him as he brings you closer to the edge.
"That's it, cum for me bitch! Cum on my big dick like the desperate slut you are! Show everyone what a filthy whore you are for Ghostface!" He demands, slamming into you even harder.
With a few more thrusts, Ghostface buries himself deep inside you and unloads, pumping your pussy full of his hot cum. He pulls out and slaps your ass.
Ghostface pulls out, leaving you a panting, cum-filled mess. He grabs the camera and holds it close to your gaping, cream-filled cunt. The lens captures your swollen lips dripping with his thick seed.
"Mmm, look at that sloppy hole, all stuffed full of my cum. You took it so well, like a good little whore," he praises cruelly.
Ghostface's palm cracks across your sensitive pussy, making you yelp and flinch. He grins at your reaction.
"I'll be back for round two, slut. And next time, I might bring some friends to help me ruin all your holes. You'd like that, wouldn't you?" He chuckles darkly.
Ghostface grabs a marker and uncaps it with his teeth. He leans down and scrawls "Property of Ghostface" across the small of your back in big, bold letters.
"There, now everyone will know who this cunt belongs to," he declares possessively.
Ghostface takes the knife and pushes the handle back into your tender, well-used cunt. He twists it slowly, watching you squirm and whimper.
"Keep this inside you as a reminder of who owns this pussy. And if you try to take it out, I'll know. Then I'll have to punish you... severely." He warns with a dark chuckle.
Ghostface stands up and admires his work - your body marked and claimed, stuffed full of his cum and knife. He gives your ass a final hard spank.
"Rest up, slut. You're going to need your energy for next time. Because trust me, I'm far from done with you." He promises evilly.
With that, Ghostface blows you a mocking kiss and slinks out of the room, leaving you naked, used, and utterly ruined. The camera keeps recording, capturing your debauched state for all your followers to see.
As Ghostface disappears into the night, you're left alone, wondering what twisted games he has in store for you next. One thing's for sure he isn’t done with your pretty pussy.
#black male reader#male reader#ftm reader#ftm bottom#black bottom#ghostface#scream#ghostface x reader#ghostface x male reader
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hi!!! may i req a kyle fic w/ a shy!fem!blk!reader who's REALLY quiet and almost never speaks and kyle lowkey has a crush on her and one day they're paired up for a project and they're gonna meet up at his house kyle is super excited but y/n is SUPER nervous because she likes kyle too but while they're working on the project kyle mentions something y/n really likes (fav tv show, game, wtv u want!) and y/n gets SUPERRR happy and starts rambling about that thing and it makes kyle super confused cuz hes like "woah u never talk in class??" but he lowkey thinks its super cute + he asks her out on a date after they finish all their work and y/n says yes!
sorry if its too long this is like my 1st req ever😭
「 Zelda 」
kyle x blk! reader older ver.
cw; mm none
note; this is a reasonable looking request I love when people write it like that
oh god what am I doing here? Why would she pair me with him?
You thought, taking a quick glance over at the redhead. The boy moved his pencil across his sheet of paper effortlessly, the gears in his head were indeed moving with the way he wrote so fast.
His green eyes squinted then relaxed as he wrote, he sucked in his lip every once in a while as he did so.
Your eyes studied him in adornment, so infatuated with his natural beauty that your stomach began to churn and grow uncomfortable.
"mmh..-" You hummed in distress, rubbing your stomach.
The ginger looked your way from the sudden sound and stared at you in slight confusion.
"Anything wrong?" He asked.
anything wrong? Yes why are you so handsome??
Your eyes left him to look at your lifeless pencil, suddenly the object was very interesting.
You quietly shook your head as you were too nervous to even let out a peep at him. Kyle looked at you, studying your demeanor trying to figure you out.
You could feel his eyes glued onto you, with every given second he stared you grew nervous and flustered, messing with the pencil some more.
God if you could actually blush your face would be red as fuck, or just be able to see it.
"I.. uhm.. so paper? What.. what are we doing..?"
"Oh- !" Kyle snapped out of his trance and looked at his paper then pulled out his folder to grab the small story you guys were supposed to study and analyze.
You watched him put the stapled set of papers down between him and you then put his folder away. His little curls fell infront of his face as he was reaching into his bag, you felt your stomach weaken once more.
"I've read this story a billion times so if you want I can just do the work.. I'm kinda used to it anyway." He grabbed the story to himself, grabbing his pencil again. You sat in your seat a little dumbfounded.
I mean did you really come off as a push over to him? Oh god.
You wanted to say something, say you actually wanted to help.. you wanted to help him do the project with him, you REALLY wanted to do the project with..
okay maybe you just really wanted him.
but as normal your shyness got the best of you and couldn't get yourself to croak out a word. You clenched your hands into a fist in anger at this but suddenly an idea popped in your head.
You grabbed your blank paper, your pencil and began writing.
Just seconds later you ended your note with a kind smile, then slid it towards Kyle to read.
The teen stopped his work as soon as he saw the piece of paper find its way near him, he took the paper in surprise and curiosity.
"Really? You wanna help?" He looked to the side to ask you, his eyes bright and eager. You played with a strain of your curly hair as you looked at him and nodded your head with a small smile.
"Why wouldn't I?" You let out a slight chuckle, feeling your face warm up as he just continued to stare at you in awe.
"I- okay. Yeah.. okay uhh so.. the story.." He mumbled over his words, trying to grab a hold of the story, his thinking process was abruptly disturbed for some reason causing him to get nervous and stutter.
You didn't think much of it, shrugged it off and listened to what you two were supposed to be working on together, side by side at his desk.
. . .
"You know this girl in the story reminds me alot of Zelda." Kyle smiles as he laughs briefly writing down some words. Your head perks up almost like a dog when they hear the sound of their treat bag wrinkling in the hands of their owner.
You guys were probably almost done with the English project, exchanging some words but kept it to a minimum since you were overall to shy to make small talk with. I mean hell, being next to him so close right now was driving you insane.
Kyle was actually struggling inside as well, his cheeks always redden whenever your elbow touched his on accident when you wrote. But he actually enjoyed the silent moments with you, keeping it in mind that you were just too shy and nervous to talk to him so that's why he didn't say much.
"Zelda? Like.. as in the Legend of Zelda game series?" You blurted out, looking over at him. He slowly took his eyes off his paper to look at you.
"Yeah, you know that ga-"
"Oh my god yes, I love that game dude" you dropped your pencil, feeling a surge of adrenaline and excitement pump through your body. Kyle looked at you in surprise, his mouth agape in fascination. The boy set his tool down and faced you.
"You do? What's your favorite game??"
"It's hard but I'd say maybe Twilight Princess.. gosh Zelda looked so pretty in that game."
"Oh my god, that's also my favorite I mean besides Breath of the Wild-"
Your eyes sparkled as your hand covered your mouth in shock. "You ALSO like BOTW? The graphic in that game was insane, and don't even get me started on the scenery! It's all so beautiful, I took like a dozen pictures with the sheikah slate." You rambled, covering up your wide smile.
"I can't believe someone else loves that game, my friends say it's dumb but-"
"They just don't get it? Yeah that checks out. You know what they'll never understand how great and complex that game is, it's literally my favorite game since I was like 13." You put your hand down after one last laugh.
Kyle blinked, completely in surprise at your sudden mood switch. He never knew such a person as yourself would be into such a dorky and nerd game like that, not that it was bad.. far from that.
It made his crush on you grow more just by relating to one of his favorite interests. His heart raced as you went further on to express your love for the game with a little giddy smile and your small laughs to block out your nerves.
His face was a nice shade of pink, watching you in the moment with his cheek resting in the palm of his hand as he rested his elbow on the desk.
He would nod his head in agreement every once in a while but would just remain taking in your beauty, being memorized by the way you talked.
He wished he could stay and listen to you talk more but the day was ending and you had to be home at a certain time.
When you two got back to work after sharing a wonderful moment with each other, the silence was broken a little more.
"No yeah I hate the lynles too, they are ridiculously hard to beat."
"Riiighttt?? To be fair I haven't beaten one myself.. after completing the game like 4 times." You sulked in embarrassment. Kyle chuckled, putting his papers in his folder.
You smiled at his laugh, feeling your heart race. Though your smile faded when you reached to look at your phone to check the time.
"Oh crap I gotta go." You set your phone into your pocket, rushing to grab your stuff.
"Oh- you do? I mean oh yeah." Kyle watched as you hurried to put your stuff into your bag, his heart ached wanting you to stay some more.
But he knew he couldn't possibly ask you to stay the night, that would be weird.. But he knew something else that may just work..
As you lifted your bag to put on your shoulders Kyle rose up from his chair and rushed toward you. He put his hand on your shoulder to ask something. You looked at his hand on your shoulder then up at him, your eyes puzzled yet surprised.
He looked back at you and opened his mouth but to no avail, nothing came out and he just stared at you. Suddenly he turned into a hot mess beginning to sweat.
You could see a pearl of sweat drip down on the side of his face, you looked toward the ground quickly.
"Is... there something you wanna say Kyle?" You mumbled with a nervous grin you couldn't swat off. He quickly removed his hand away from your shoulder and rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze.
"I- uh.."
"Hmm?"
"oh god."
The boy cleared his throat after a moment of awkward silence, he composed himself and took a breath.
You began to twirl your hair again, getting shy from this awkward silence.
"I had fun also I think you're super cool! And uhm I was.. just wondering.. if you were maybe free Saturday?" He spat out. His eyes laid back on you, they were soft and sensitive with a little nervous smile plastered on his cute face.
"Are you asking me out?" You covered your mouth to hide the wide smile.
"I guess I am." He chuckled, setting his hand down.
You immediately bobbed your head up and down, putting your straps onto your shoulders.
"I would love to go out with you!"
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y'wanna be famous?
★彡 about me
junie ○ he/they ● 9teen ○ blk ● i draw sometimes!
im very shy and might not answer asks, please be patient with me!!, requests open
★彡 about blog
i write ocxreader fics! i specifically focus on m!reader (afab or amab) n' gn!reader. I mainly write for my male ocs, but I'll probably dabble a bit in writing for fem n' nb ocs!
★彡 rules n' warnings
"fujoshis" n' "fetishizers" pls dni, this is a safe space specifically for nb n male readers! i don't want you here!blank blogs dni!
i may post a few nsfw things down the line, so minors beware! n' some of my content may also be dark, if you don't like it- don't send any hate to me or my readers n' just block me!
i do not condone yanderes irl, my writing is purely fictitious! if anyone in your life displays any of these traits, please report them and stay safe!
please don't ask me about my personal life, i wish to keep my offline n' online life separated...
#˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚#。⋆୨୧˚ junie's angels#.°• daydreams#x reader#male reader#x male reader#m!reader#x gn reader#x gender neutral reader#gn reader#gn!reader#ocs#oc x reader#oc#my ocs#yandere#yan x reader#yan oc#yandere oc#original character
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SHY GIRLS.
(blk!reader x delinquent connie, praising, overstimulation, public sex, pussy eating, car sex, tutor, connie being connie, delinquent connie, shy??? virginreader, black girl!!!!!!, reader’s mad at connie)

It was nearly 5, and connie still hadn’t shown up. it was like this almost every—single—day. and you were tired. tired of it all, you thought it’d be nice to tutor connie seeing how hard he was trying on the first two days. you saw how determined he was to raise his grades up since..his football career was at stake he needed the support, you were his only support. his parents didn’t believe he was gon make it let alone the damn teacher but you and Mr. Mack was hell-bent to prove them wrong, but now...— you sighed heavily closing the book before stuffing it into your tote bag.
watching the sun dialing down to rest, on your way out you said your goodbyes to the librarian who’s been keeping the library open for a while for connie. so when she saw you leave she decided to leave as well, shutting all the lights off. you walked through the halls of bayridge high and it was amazingly pretty. without all the rowdy, nasty, teenagers running up and down the halls. the school looked like some rich private school, it was rich, but it wasn’t private.
pushing past the double doors you heard light chattering coming from the side, you turned your head to an angle where you could see them from your peripheral vision, spotting light blonde your face immediately scrunched up.
Connie sat with his boys as they talked about their one-night-stands they had at the homecoming party. sharing a blunt with his friends connie’s lidded eyes spotted a familiar person, his eyes squinted trying to pin point who they reminded him off, it was on the tip of his tongue. “Yo, anit that yo tutor?” eren questioned which caused connie’s eyes to widened he quickly pulls out his phone to check the time, “shit.” he grumbles handing the blunt over to jean as both friends watched him scrambling to you. as you reached the tactile paving you heard footsteps from behind which instantly made you turn on your feet drawing out a pepper spray ready to fire.
“woah!” connie says as he stands in a defensive position. your eyes rolled and placed the pepper spray back in the bag, “now you wanna show up.” you grumbled crossing your arms on your chest, connie’s tongue clicked against the roof of his mouth trying to form out a reasoning to why he skipped the session, “look—i had- a smoke sesh to attend to after school?” you finished tilting your head connie’s head jolts back as his face scrunched up with confusion, “how you know about smoke sesh?” he says, you staled faced him. “Bye connie,” you said turning on your feet you began walking across the street as connie trailed behind his hands in his pockets as his eyes scanned the area.
“it’s too late for you to be out here, y/n.” he says which caused your steps to come to a halt. turning swiftly on your feet you stared at him, “really? i wouldn’t be out here late at night if it wasn’t for your ass!” you spat as your acrylic nail jambs his chest, connie winced at the sharp pain you left. his hands rubs softly as he watched you run your mouth about how idiotic he was for missing his study session to attend a drug circle. seeing you all knitted up and mad made connie feel things he’s never felt before, your chubby cheeks puffed up as you glared at him through those large frames he adored. and those plump lips?? oh man don’t get him started. that’s all he’s been thinking about.
how good they’ll looked all wrapped around his cock as he rams it deep into your throat, your big doe eyes coated with tears and messy mascara running down your cheeks???, oh god. the type of shit that be going on in connie’s head was some crazy, sexual shit. “CONNIE!” connie’s eyes snaps up from your lips, “yeah?” he questioned eyes landing on yours. “did you hear anything i said?” connie’s lips twisted to the side he stayed quiet for a second before replying, “yeah.” your eyebrows knitted turning on your feet you resumed your walking with connie trailing behind like a lost puppy.
“stop following me,” you grumbled as connie caught up to you, walking shoulder to shoulder connie licked his lips taking a large step which covered you from walking any further. standing in front of him with a confused glaze his red lidded eyes staring down, your face scrunched seeing him just standing there as if he was contemplating something. “y’know how pretty you look right now?” he questioned voice soft as a baby bottom, slight rasp in the words he spoke you scoffed at him trying to butter you up, “stop tryna smooth talk me into forgiving you.” you said which made him chortle. “i’m not.” he replies in the same tone as before while his hands slithers up to your waist. you noticed his hand on your waist not saying anything about it since you enjoyed his touch, but you wouldn’t tell him that his large head would inflate with cockiness. “i’m jus sayin what i see. i see pretty so i say it,” connie smirks.
your eyes rolled. you and connie had somewhat chemistry happening between you two. you noticed it at first when he decided to lay his head on your lap during one of the tutor meetings which happened at his house due to the librarian being out. he was extremely touchy with you. kneading at the hems of your shirt while listening to you talk about Alexander Hamilton and his accomplishments, his parents were out on vacation leaving the house to connie he’s been calling you over—and it wasn’t for tutoring—to watch movies with him and hangout, laying on his chest while his hand caressed your back. you wanted to announce your feelings for him but the series of replies running through your head made you feel anxious about even liking him!
watching how the blue light projecting off the tv and coating his face, his pink medium sized lips parted slightly with light snores emitting. his freckles which were spread across his face, curly black lashes with his chest heaving lightly. you always imaged how nice it must feel to wake up in his arms everyday. frankly you haven’t noticed him talking to his “hoes” as much as he did before meeting you. now he was just all focused on you.
“cmere.” you groaned, “connie no..” you respond as his hand intertwines with yours. “cmere, lemme show you how sorry i am.” he whispers holding you close to him, chest to chest. you stared through your eyebrows before soughing, “fine.” you murmured which made a smirk smudge on his lip, he chuckled while his knees bent as his arms went beneath your ass picking you up in a hurry. “Connie!” you say with widened eyes, “relax i got you.” he assures while carrying you over to the car, he digs in his pockets and unlocks the door by his key. he placed you on the ground as he opens the passenger door, “get in.” you eyed him, “where are you taking me?” you questioned skeptical about this connie bottom lip lifts into his top as his head drops slightly to the right at your question. “now y’know i wont take you anywhere unsafe y/n.” your arms raised in defense, “you never know.” “get in the car,” connie stale faced which made you laugh.
now it was 6 nearly hitting 7PM and you were out in a beautiful park sitting on the hood of connie’s car as he stood between your thighs rubbing mini circles with his thumb. “y’want fries?” you questioned placing the plate of fries connie had bought from a food truck. “i’m good, eat it.” he says which caused you to eye him, “are you sure you won’t eat it as soon as i place it down?” connie chortled, “yes, i promise.” he says licking his lips afterwards. your eyes stayed on his, squinted, while slowly placing the fries on the hood, as soon as it was close to the hood. connie jerked his hand towards the fries making it seem as if he was going to take some.
you quickly reacted snatching the fries away, glaring at connie as he laughs. “hungry,” you rolled your eyes and placed the fries back down. arms wrapped around his neck for support you jumped off his hood connie’s hand still on your hips. “where you going,” he questions watching you walk, “somewhere you are not,” you smartly replied, connie’s eyebrows cocked up. “word?” you nodded a yes folding your arms on your chest. connie starts walking up to you which made you jog back a few centimeters. “if you fall i’m not gon help you up.” your face scrunched up, “i’m not gonna fa—ouch!” connie’s first instinct was to run over to see if you were alright. but seeing you jump back on your feet made connie eye you.
“fuck? u indestructible or sum?” you shook your head no trying to not cry at the stinging pain in your ankle. connie noticed your legs twitch while you had your lips rolled in and your eyes batting trying to stop the tears from leaking out, “you hurt yourself didn’t you.” “y-yeah.” you croaked connie shakes his head as if he was a disappointed father, trudging towards you he rest you back on the hood of his car and examined your ankle. “where does it hurt?” he questioned while his fingers ran along it trying to find the bruise, “right there..” you muttered navigating him to the stingy bruise, once his finger glazed it you instantly winced, ankle jolts back. “sorry,” he mumbles.
seconds after he examined the ankle, he eyes darted to yours bringing your ankle centimeters away from his lips your eyes widened, “i could kiss it better,” he suggest, your lips twitched as you watched him plant his soft lips on your ankle. as soon as you felt the cold sensation of his lips, you were instantly wet. not by that of course but by where his other hand did. running along your thighs leaving you with heavy breathing connie pulls away from your ankle softly placing it down. “why-connie,” he smirks, “i didn’t do anything,” he says while his hands ran up your thigh, leaning more into you. you swallowed harshly feeling as if it was hard to breathe, seeing him itching closer you quickly announced that, “i’m a virgin!” you shouted but quickly regretted after acknowledging you were still at a park which could have families out walking along the path, “i know.” he says merely inches away from your lips, “i’ma take it slow.”
$$
laying down on connie’s backseat while he was sat on his knees with your legs hunched over his shoulders with his head situated between your thighs licking and sucking vigorously on your pussy, licking up the juices you provided your head lolls back onto the seat, he held you, literally, held you. your lower body raised up from his hands being on your waist keeping it steady since you had the tendency to close your legs. connie lapping up your essence like a starved man who hasn’t ate in months. which he was, he has longed for this moment. every, single, day he sees you he imagines himself being stuck between those thick thighs.
you frantically tapped connie’s head, “con-connie, i gotta pee, connie! fuck!” you screamed which caused connie to smirk against your pussy, finally snapping away, his long digits inserts into your wet hole causing your mouth to agape, “that’s not pee, shorty. you’re about to cum.” your eyebrows knitted from the tightening sensation happening in your stomach connie watched as he works his finger in your cunt hitting every spot, than adding another digit, both fingers curled together “connie!” you shouted trying to grab his arm, moans sounded his car as well with the squelching sound of your pussy’s first reaction to connie’s thick long fingers. “shit,” he grunts looking down after he felt your walls tighten around his finger, “you gon cum? cum f’me.” he egged leaning down to whisper nothing but praises after releasing on his fingers, “there you go..let it all out” he chortles. removing his fingers out with a line of your essences connected to his finger and your pussy.
breathing heavy, you watched him unbuckle his pants, throwing the belt aside as if it was nothing more than just a flimsy accessory blocking his aching bulge, “fuck,” he whispered feeling the cold air hitting his cock. your eyes widened, “you’re planning on making that fit in me??” your voice filled with pure shock with a tad bit of a questionable tone, connie chuckled. “you’re adorable.” he says right before he plants a kiss on your cheek, “im’a go slow.” he says inches away from your face, he lines himself up still holding eye contact with you, watching your eyes widened and as your mouth parted. “connie,” you whimpered your arms wrapped around his neck for support, your back arched as he continued sliding his length in, luckily you were wet enough or you wouldn’t not been acting like this, “almost there baby.” he whispered planting a kiss near your ear.
your soft moans were like music to his ears, like music you’ll listen to in the gym. your moans reminded him of that type of music, giving him that urge to continue. “fuck!” he grunts finally sliding the whole thing in, hands plants at the sides of your face trapping you in between. “connie, i-it’s hurts..” you pouted catching connie’s attention quick, he leans down and kissed your jaw, neck, and collarbone. “it’s okay, just relax..” he whispers as he uses his kisses to ease the pain, minutes later connie still at the crook of your neck leaving kisses feeling your breathe glaze his ear, you whispered, “fuck me.”
oh do you regret saying those words, connie rams into you as if you were nothing but a little sex toy. his grunts fills up your ears, his sliver chain dangling above your face each thrust it jolts from the action. “fuck connie,” you babbled moaning out his name, your hand rest on your stomach feeling him moving around was insanely hot, connie noticed the distinctive bulge thrusting in and out, connie chuckled.
“damn,” grasping your neck with his hands connie pulled you into a longggg sexual yet passionate kiss, “fuck baby you’re so tight.” he says after pulling away his forehead to yours as his head was slightly angled downwards watching how good his dick look sliding in and out of your pussy. “con-connie, it’s happening again.” you blurted out followed by a loud moan, “yeah? u gon cum??” he questioned hitting harder than the usual speed he was going before. sending you straight to the holy gates. all you started seeing were stars as he continued to fuck you rough.
you heard him whimper and stifle a moan, “fuck, i’m close.” he moans your head lays back on the seat mouth agape with prolonged strings of broken moans as connie felt you release on him. coating his dick white as well with forming a ring around the base. seeing this connie instantly came.
coating your walls with his velvety, white, liquid. groaning at the impact his body falls on top of yours. both teenagers—they’re 18.— breathing heavily as they stayed in silence for a moment, “connie..” you said breaking that silence, his head picks up from your shoulder, “hm?” you fondled around with you fingers wondering if you should announce this or not. “what’s wrong, hermosa..” he questioned hands caressing your cheek, “i-i like..you..” you whispered which made connie’s eyes widened, you heard him chuckle which caused your heart to drop to your ass.
staring at him, “i’ve always liked you, i just thought you didn’t like me because of the way you acted.” he says through a soft grin fear vanished within a second after his response. rolling your eyes you crossed your arms on your chest, “well i had a reason to act the way i did.” you scoffed as this caused a smirk to line his lips, “quit being grumpy.” he muttered taking your chin and moving it to face him, he leaves a soft peck on your lips. “shut up.” you muttered facing the opposite direction trying your hardest not to let this smile line your lips.
part 2
#jujutsu kaisen#spotify#anime x black!reader#x black reader#aot connie#attack on titan#black reader#connie springer#black fanfiction#jujutsu gojo#toji fushiguro#armin x black reader#x black fem reader#x black plus size reader#iqzo<3
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demon slayers x shy blk girlfriend
includes;tanjirou,zenitsu,inosuke & genya
warnings; modern au, fluff, not proofread
a/n; this is my 1st time writing something in forever so forgive me for any mistakes.
tanjiro
would ask before touching your hair.
when you guys got together he’d memorize the scent of the hair products you used.
whenever you asked him to go n fetch your hair supplies he’d always know which one to get.
super respectful.
would be your personal hype man.
your own photographer when it’s golden hour.
goes the extra mile while on dates so you know he cares.
you and nezuko def team up against him to pull a prank on him.
would be so hyped on wash day.
would honestly do your wash day for you.
would spend more time playing with your coils tho.
you gotta yell at him a lil to stay forcused.
you guys met during a class.
you had just transferred and were lost trying to get to your next class.
as you were standing in the hall frantically looking for the room he’d be a angel and ask you what’s wrong.
you show him your schedule and he walks you to your class.
while you guys were walking you had agreed to share numbers incase you got lost again.
as you guys became more comfortable with each other you would study at the library.
would definitely confess during a library or coffee hangout with you.
since he know you don’t like attention he’d do it after the session as he walked you back to your dorm.
everything has been history since.
zenitsu
you caught his attention a little slower then the others.
since you were super shy and reserved you never had any interactions.
you had happened to be paired with him for a project.
ofc he was hyped since he got to be with a hottie like you.
you were going through internal turmoil.
happy that you were partnered with your crush.
but also unsure of what to do and you didn’t wanna make it obvious since you had a huge fear of rejection.
he would def stutter a lot out of pure nervousness
yk the interview with jhene aiko adn the dude was messig up his words yea he'd be the same way.
would spend more time staring at you then getting any work done.
since he has great hearing he’d be able to pick up on any signs of you being nervous and would definitely tease you.
ex: getting close to you to hear ur breath hitch in ur throat.
would definitely realize his crush towards you once the project is nearing.
would ask tanjirou how he should confess.
would confess in the worst way possible.
like even batman couldn’t get this info outta him type beat.
he’d confess in his sleep.
like he straight knocked out one day and sleep talk his confession.
AND b4 y’all are like.
“beni you can’t confess in your sleep.”
people have literally driven around places sleep walking, anything is possible.
i definitely see you have having a first day more romantically though.
would be somewhere isolated since you don’t really like attention.
like a picnic date or at a fancy restaurant.
either way you told him he didn’t have to and you would accept anything he gave you.
would probably make him cry how sweet you are.
you guys would be a great pair.
inosuke
homeboy isn’t stupid
he’s gonna know but definitely tease and get you to confess first.
tanjirou says it’s cruel since ur so shy.
but let’s be real
he don’t gaf😭
he wants to hear you say it.
“someone really likes another person if their willing to get closer to them even if it’s makes them uncomfortable”
would be his reasoning.
i def see him tho as like
the type to think you were dumb for liking him and simply ignore it.
then would progressively start crushing on you more and more as time passed.
would get really jealous when people would flirt with you and pretend to be ur bf.
let’s say uzui was complimenting you a lot.
and in his head he’s like “i should be th done complimenting you rn.”
would walk up to you, put an arm around your shoulder and be like
isn’t my y/n so beautiful.
would enjoy every minute of you getting shy.
uzui: ohhh are you abd y/n dating?
inosuke: are we y/n?
y/n: *dies internally* i don’t know are we?
inosuke: yes we are.
i feel like that how you guys would start dating.
would definitely be a great match since he’s somewhat reserved, and your polar opposite personalities fit well.
genya
would have a crush first.
trying to subtly make it obvious but didn’t wanna scare you away.
was much more gentle with you compared to anyone else.
would go out of his way to get you things you liked.
no matter what anyone said he couldn’t they the balls to confess.
i see him as the type to get extremely angry whenever someone mentions something bad about your race and culture.
thinks your culture is the coolest thing along with the foods and clothing.
definitely helps with wash day.
he reminds you all the time on wash day.
comes over to “help out”.
he practically does everything
surprisingly good at doing cornrows and twists.
he confessed through a note telling you to meet up with him.
and it feels like he confessed everything in like one breath.
“heyynireallylikeyouandwantedtoknowifyouwereintrestedindatingmebutthatsokayifyoudontimmorethenhspoystayingfriends.”
would ask him to repeat himself just to see him blush.
you guys make a great pair and overall cutest couple💕
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#demon slayer#tanjiro kamado#inosuke#anime#black fem reader#zenitsu fluff#n3grous#manga#black writers#genya headcanons#genya demon slayer#genya x black reader#genya x reader#shy blk reader#kimetsu inosuke#kimetsu no yaiba#inosuke x reader#inosuke fluff#kamado tanjirou#tanjiro fluff#demon slayer x black reader
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black authors do not get the same treatment as white authors on here or as someone who is inclusive to all races. let’s talk about it 🙃
#┃⠀・ 。゚☆⠀〝so we vibing over our hoeism or whatever.〞⠀⠀╱ ⠀⠀꒰⠀𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬╱@𝐨𝐡-𝐥𝐜𝐦𝐜𝐫 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐬.⠀꒱#i’ve taken notice to it in just my short window of gettin’ back active on this app#and i’m sick of it#y’all are rlly no better than the orange app#it’s like y’all see “blk!oc” or “blk!reader” and shy away from the shit#we’re tired of being overlooked#but if y’all want to continue reading the bland shit that y’all do be my guest#we staying saucy and different over here#i have so much to bring to the table with this community#and i won’t stop until i get my proper respect#.
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i was wondering how would the monster trio react if they randomly got a boner and bro im SURE sanji’s cock twitches 47 times a day given the thoughts he constantly has 🙄🙄 zoro gets them while he sleeps so he waits for his dick to calm down before standing up,, people think he’s lazy but he’s just hard and doesn’t want anybody to know🤭🤭
luffy’s dick gets hard when he thinks about being the pirates king 😒😒
“𝕎𝕙𝕖𝕟 𝕋𝕙𝕖𝕚𝕣 𝔻𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝔾𝕖𝕥𝕤 ℍ𝕒𝕣𝕕 ℝ𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕠𝕞𝕝𝕪”



All are very canon cuz i seen it for myself.
Ft. Zoro, Luffy, Sanji
Blk Fem! Reader in Mind
CW: Dick talk, established relationships because i wanna project and include myself😓
Luffy
When he gets hard it’s really rare and i feel like it’s partially because of his rubbery body….does that even make sense
He gets hard from very few things and they’re always so minuscule or random its hard to know if he’s actually turned on or if his body is just trynna be funny.
You once made him a dessert that you really wanted to try without the assistance of sanji and when Luffy ate it he not only fell in love with you, but loved the sweet pastry so much you noticed a tent grow in his shorts
Very shameless in the morning by the way.
Every man gets morning wood at least once a lifetime and when Luffy gets it
everybody knows.
“LUFFY PUT THAT THING AWAY?!”
“Calm down, Nami it’ll go down in a sec..😄”
Has been heard by the guys a few times with him jacking off late night when his hard on is just so bothersome.
“GO DO THAT SOMEWHERE ELSE—“
“OR GO SEE Y/N!”
“Dont wanna. Shes too far. Im almost done dont worry.”
Usopp ends up pissed the entire day.
His boners can ironically go down quickly if he eats meat.
You swear his dick has a mind of it’s own, all you did was tell him about how much higher his bounty would get after defeating Kaido and his dick started poking you in the back.
Now he is still a guy and guys also can be attracted to women so you being his girlfriend—you’re not necessarily excluded.
However he gets hard at the simplest things you do.
Taking his hat, Calling him captain, even play fighting with him he ends up getting hard so hopefully youre a good gf and willing to help him out when it happens😁
Zoro
He claims he can control his erections .
No he cannot.
If he’s in a relationship with you he’s more shy about letting you know about his dick problems because you dont want him to think hes a pervert.
He can’t control a damn thing his dick does which is why he blames you.
“I had more balance before I met you—“
“Wh—HELLO?”
“LOOK. WOMAN.”
All you did was hug him.
When he gets morning wood he is usually laying around a little longer. He has tried jacking off while in the room with the guys as they slept but he heard Luffy sleep walking (with his own hard on) and immediately just went back to sleep.
He very rarely does get hard though. However you plan to find out every single thing that turns him hard and so far you only found 2:
The first one is kissing, hes a touch starved man and you can never help yourself when it comes to locking lips with him. Your tongue wrapped around his, your hands on his chest and straddling him as he gropes your ass, he’s so needy it’s almost too cute to handle. and the look on his face when you feel him poke you is absolutely EVERYTHING.
The one that shocked you the most was when youre arguing with him. He doesnt know why he gets turned on by how mad you get whether it’s at him or someone else but the blood flow of his dick is damn near on fire. Maybe it’s because you have an accent when you speak fast, maybe it’s because it’s a rare occurrence, or maybe zoro is a freak. But seeing you so pent up and pissed makes his pants tight
Zoro getting hard consist of him being irritable, quiet, and trying to isolate himself until he or you fix the issue
Sanji
He’s always half hard.
Wanna know something else, his blood fits he has (the ones that didnt turn into a fucking plot point) are representing each time he gets hard.
Anyways though, he masturbates regularly. If he’s not cooking or out with the crew he is in the bathroom helping himself.
His hard ons are easy to spot because he’ll hide himself behind a counter with blush on his face or stand behind you.
He is shameless with his hardons only when you’re around.
He can get hard just by seeing you smile so have fun with that.
But he gets incredibly hard(and even easier) after you both have had sex before
If you all are on the deck and you wanna wear another thin ass bikini of course he is going to get hard. Thinking about the things he’d do to you if you just gave him the green light.
Which is also why Sanji stares at you a lot.
So he will come behind you and bury his face in your shoulder or neck whining.
You don’t mind it. It’s cute to see him rut up behind your ass, his accent slipping through .
“May we..go to your room please?”
If you say yes he will walk SUPER close behind you trying to hide his painful erection, mumbling small praises and thanks for you being so understanding.
He’s so grateful for you :(
#one piece#TimikosMonsterTrio#black reader#one piece headcanons#one piece x female reader#sanji#one piece smut#sanjionepiece#one piece x black!reader#sanji imagine#sanji x black reader#sanji x reader#x female reader#female reader#black foot sanji#one piece scenario#zoro headcanons#luffy#sanji smut#zoro hcs#luffy headcanons
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