#yahya fic

[berberriescorner]

Nobody's Gonna Know

(Part One)

Characters: Yahya Abdul-Mateen II as himself x Black!reader (woc!reader), Michael B. Jordan as himself (appearance), and Kiana Ledé as “Jerrika” (appearance).

Summary: What happens when you realize what you’ve always wanted was right in front of your face the entire time?

Warnings: Profanity, daddy kink (you’re not surprised), smut, mentions of violence, drinking, and did I mention smut already😈?

Word Count: (Part One) 4,100+/9,000+. Sorry, lovelies, I couldn’t stop😆.

A/N: Yes, it’s lengthy, but the idea snowballed into something unexpected. I hope you all enjoy it!

Inspired By:

Lounging lazily on your king-size bed, you laid on your back comfortably in an oversized t-shirt. You silently scrolled through Instagram. Your breath hitched at the feel of fingertips gently stroking your calves. Still staring at the phone screen, a wicked little idea popped into your head. You smirked, tapping the add a new post button. Using your free hand, you positioned it atop the head that rested on your pelvis and between your thighs. Not wanting to give him reason to stir, you gently stroked his head, and he relaxed into your touch. The movement of your hand paused long enough to snap the picture. He was none the wiser as he continued to search for something to watch on HBO Max. Eyes still searching the screen, he turned his head slightly and placed a gentle kiss on the inside of your thigh.

“Soft ass thighs.”

A soft moan fell from your lips. You made sure Yahya’s face wasn’t in the shot. Your digits glided across the keyboard, adding a Nicki Minaj lyric as the caption, “My man full, he just ate💦😘.” You tapped the post button and laid your phone on the nightstand.

Yahya had just licked you to tears. No one knew about the two of you. That you started as best friends turned into a sneaky link. The both of you have secretly been trying to figure out what this was morphing into. Unsure of where things were going, you decided to keep things quiet. You both enjoyed teasing the people in your inner circle on IG (they were all extremely nosey). Thus the reason for posting said pic—that it would sometimes get a rise out of the other person was a bonus.

Yahya received a notification that you had posted. Still lying between your legs, he teased, “What thirst trap are you posting now?” He froze, seeing a picture of his current position. He huffed, “You for real?”

Yahya rolled over, still lying on top of your stomach. His hand rained down on your thigh.

“I thought this was supposed to be on the low? You damn near ripped my head off for telling my bro I was over here in the middle of the night. I guess the rules only apply to me,” Yahya grumbled. His face changed from frustration to a sly grin.

“Boy, calm down. Nobody’s going to know that’s you. That’s what makes it so exciting, you teased. “And why do you have that stupid grin on your face?”

“I just noticed the caption, so I’m your man now?”

“Don’t do too much. They’re just lyrics. Relax, my guy.”

“Yeah, right. When are we going to stop playing this game?”

“What game, Yah'?”

“Stop acting like this isn’t more than just a sneaky link now. I’ve been blowing your back out for over four months.”

“And I greatly appreciate it. Why do we have to get into specifics? We have amazing sex. No need to make it more complicated.”

“Are you dating anyone else? I know you better not be fucking anybody other than me, Y/N.”

“I’d hardly call a few dinner dates that haven’t gone past friends, dating. It’s been nothing but innocent, Yah'.”

His jaw ticked at the revelation of you being in the presence of another man’s company.

“For the record, I don’t make a habit of having more than one sexual partner. That’s your thing, not mine.”

“You refuse to let that shit go, huh? I slept with her one time! We had just started whatever this was at the time. I cut her off once I knew this wasn't a one-and-done situation. Who exactly did you go on a date with, sweetheart?”

The question and term of endearment dripped with jealousy. You took a deep breath, preparing yourself for more confrontation. There was no doubt in your mind that the answer would upset him.

“Michael. I know you don’t like him. We just went on two dates. Nothing happened, Yah'.”

He pulled into a seated position on the mattress.

“Out of all these thirsty ass dudes that beg for your attention. He had to be the one you said yes to. How many times have I told you that’s a waste of your time? How do I get you to understand that he just wants to knock you down?”

“Is that not what you’re doing with me?“

“Stop that shit. You know how I feel about you. Your ass doesn't want to hear it because you’re scared. We both know this could be so much more.”

“This is stupid. Why are we arguing? We’re not a couple. This is supposed to be easy and chill.”

“There you go deflecting as usual,” he sighed.

“Do you want me to delete the damn picture, Yahya? It’s the reason this conversation even took place.”

“No, no. Leave it up. You know what? You’re right, love. Lay back down. Let’s just enjoy each other’s company.”

Yahya was the least bit worried about your IG post. It was only for close friends, and he wanted them to wonder. Acting angry was just a means to an end. He had a reason to get his lick back. Now, he had an excuse for what he was planning.

Hearing you went on two dates with Michael sent jealousy coursing through his veins. He made a mental note to keep his enemies closer. Seeing that you were focused on the show, he went to Instagram. Yahya went to Michael’s page and added him to his close friends. 

He wanted to see how your friends were reacting to your photo. He pulled up your page and skimmed through the comments. Yahya chuckled at your best friend's comment. In bold letters, she said, “Okay, best friend! I see you! No clue who that is, but get that head in your comfortable bed! Yaaasss👏🏾👏🏾👏🏾. I expect full details and a face reveal when we link tomorrow. I’m tired of all this damn anonymity.” Yahya laughed, knowing that you weren’t giving up any information.

Yahya waited two days before he put his plan in motion. He hit your line, inviting you for a movie night at his place. You were sure the night would end on your back with Yahya between your thighs. Anytime the two of you were alone, your hands always seemed to roam. Every time you two gave into temptation, it would go for rounds. Knowing this, you brought an overnight bag. He knew just how to put you to sleep.

Only twenty minutes into the movie, you were already at the edge of the mattress. Yahya placed you on all fours with your box braids wound tightly around his hand. He tugged at them, pulling you into the most perfect of arches. His free hand crept to the top of his nightstand. You were plunged deep into the throes of passion and hadn’t noticed him pick up his phone. The only light in the room came from the television. Pistoning in and out of your tight walls, he managed to open Instagram. Yahya needed it to be pitch black to pull off his scheme.

“Nobody watching this shit for real, baby. Alexa! Turn off the tv in the master bedroom,” he groaned.

The tv shut off as he pulled out and slammed back into your slick heat.

“Ye-yes. Fuck, baby,” you cried, arching your back deeper.

His face lit up at that. He continued giving slow, deep strokes as he recorded you both in the dark.

Yahya made sure this was for close friends only. With confirmation, he laid the phone on the mattress next to the two of you. He proceeded to put in work, going crazy in your walls. Your sweet, soft, and sensual moans were like music to his ears. You were used to Yahya laying some good pipe, but tonight he was on demon time. This man was trying to tear your walls down and ruin you for any other man.

“Feel me deep in your shit, baby?”

You moaned in response.

He thrust so deep that your hands instantly flew to his abdomen. You tried to push back against his stomach, wanting him to take it easy on you. He growled, binding your wrist with his free hand.

“Move your fuckin’ hands,” he half moaned, half growled. His hand let go of your hair and rained down, smacking and grabbing your left cheek. He slapped the right cheek before burying his digits in your braids again. “I thought you could take all of it, baby? That’s what you begged for. Right, love? Hmm? This ain’t what you wanted?”

You whimpered.

A faint “Please, Daddy” escaped your lips. 

“What is it, baby? Use your words.”

“I can-ah!”

“Yes, you can, baby. You gon’ be my good girl, and take it,” he whispered, trailing kisses down your back, fully sheathing himself inside you. His length tapped that spot deep within you.

 “Y-yes, baby, I’ll take it, g-give me that di-Yes, Yah'!”

Yahya tapped at your spot repetitively, sending you spiraling. You buried your face in the mattress, clawing at the bedding. Your release approached, barreling toward you like a freight train as you attempted to muffle your screams in the sheets.

“Good. Fucking. Girl. Each word was highlighted with another thrust. “Yeah, come just like that, mama.”

Satisfied with himself, Yahya ended the video and posted it to his stories. He hoped none of your closest friends would recognize your voice. There was only one person he needed to figure it out, Michael. Yahya knew you were going to throw a fit, but so long as nobody could see you. He felt he could get you to be cool with it. Leaning against you, he licked, nibbled, and kissed your shoulder. He was still plunged deep inside you and solid as a rock. Yahya’s lips trailed over to your ear. Releasing a deep groan, he rasped, “Hope you got one more in you, love. Daddy needs to come too. He pulled out until it was just the tip. About to respond, he plunged deep inside, forcing you to gasp. Yahya pulled two more orgasms from your body before spilling inside you.

He made quick work of getting a warm cloth to clean you up. You moaned at the sweet actions of his aftercare. Yahya smirked at how easily it was to turn you on. He swaggered into the bathroom and finished cleaning himself up. 

Collapsing into bed, he pulled you closer and pressed his lips against yours. Rolling onto your side, you pushed back against him, making yourself the little spoon. Yahya’s hand crept from your thigh and up the side of your body. His large palm found its destination as it gently cupped your breast. His lips left light kisses on your shoulder and neck.

“You’re always trying to cop a feel,” you sassed, sucking your teeth.

“You know this is my emotional support Titty.”

“Shut up, Yah',” you giggled.

Yahya bit his lip and smirked as he tweaked your nipple.

“Uhn-uh! If you’re going to be on my body like this, your ass needs to behave and sit still. I’m exhausted thanks to your big dick bandit ass,” you teased.

“You know you like that shit,” he responded, tugging at your nipple again.

He pressed his semi-hard erection against you. The action caused your breath to hitch.

“Tell me you don’t want me again, and I’ll let you sleep,” he whispered, nibbling your earlobe.

About to reply sarcastically, you lost your train of thought as he dipped his hand between your thighs.

“You were saying something, love?”

“Fuck, you don’t play fair,” you panted.

“Come here, mama. Want you to ride me.”

Sliding down his length, it became clear you wouldn’t be sleeping anytime soon.

“Yah', baby,” you whined.

“I know, baby. I know. I’m going to make you feel good. Ride me, mama,” he urged, guiding your hips.

Though he had fallen asleep satiated and peacefully, his morning was the opposite. Yahya jolted out of his sleep as he struggled to breathe. You had covered his face with a pillow while chastising him.

“I just know your big-headed ass didn’t record us fucking and post it to close friends! Please tell me my eyes are deceiving me.”

Yahya's hand tugged at the pillow over his face. He snatched the pillow, throwing it across the room. He overpowered you, flipping you onto your back as he smirked.

“What’s wrong? You don’t want your side hoes to find out about me?”

“The only side hoe I have is you.”

“Naw, sweetheart. I’m your main dude. You’re just too stubborn to admit it.”

“Whatever! You better hope nobody recognizes my voice, freaky ass,” you kissed your teeth.

“Oh, I hope they do,” he smiled. “You’re not even mad, for real. I know that shit lowkey turns you on. Listen to those pretty little moans, mama.”

You did your best to bite back a smile but lost. Yahya licked his lips, giving you a million-dollar smile.

“I know I sound good. You ain’t gotta sweat me or nothin’.”

“I should’ve left the lights on while I recorded that shit. Give them something to really talk about.”

“You want to tell people we fuck so bad,” you teased.

“It’s going to come out sooner or later. I’ma make you mine, shortie. You can continue to run from it but in the end. You’re going to be mine.”

Wanting to avoid such a touchy topic, you switched the subject.

“Boy, shut up and feed me. I’m hungry. What’s for breakfast, best friend?”

Yahya smiled devilishly, “This dick.”

“Nasty ass. I want food, Yah',” you whined.

“That’s a whole ass meal, fuck you mean?”

Eyes rolling and smacking your teeth, he laughed.

“I forgot how cranky you can be in the mornings. Let’s get the baby’s tummy full. What do you want to eat, baby girl,” he responded in his best baby voice.

“Can you make french toast and bacon? You make it better than I do,” you asked in a cute tone.

“You know I can’t say no to that voice and face. Come on, spoiled brat,” he teased as he slapped your thigh.

Yahya scooped you from the bed, dangling your body over his shoulder. His hand grabbed a handful of your behind, giving it a loud smack.

“Ouch, Yah'! That hurt,” you whined.

“I didn’t mean to smack it that hard. My bad,” he smirked, rubbing the pain away.

“Lying ass.”

Carting you off to the kitchen, he got you fed and full. Neither of you had anything planned. The two of you spent the remainder of your Sunday binging television and ordering takeout. 

When the time came for you to head out, Yahya felt his chest tighten. He was sad to see you leave. If only you two could figure out where to go from here. He’d have you sleeping in his bed every night. Little did you know, your best friend’s feelings for you had existed as long as the friendship had. He just never knew how to tell you. The chemistry and attraction lingered between the two of you. That is, until one drunken night, he did something about it. He fell back on his couch, missing you already, as his mind drifted back to that night.

You were spiraling down a black hole of heartbreak. Yahya came running to offer support and a listening ear to vent to. 

His fist balled up, jaw flexing as his memory replayed the image of you opening the door. 

Your eyes were bloodshot and glassy as you did your best to keep from crying again. Yahya’s heart sank seeing how distraught you were. He stepped closer to you, and in a low baritone, he said, “Hey, mama.” The sympathy in his soothing voice sent a fresh trail of tears rolling down your cheeks. He sighed as his arms snaked around your waist, pulling you as close as possible. Yahya’s chin rested on your head as you curled into his chest, body trembling as the tears flowed. “You’re going to be straight, mama. I promise I got you,” he soothed, rubbing his hands up and down your back. He gave you a minute or two to let it all out. Releasing you, he bent back, using the pads of his thumbs to wipe your tears. Yahya leaned forward, sweeping you up bridal style. “Let’s get you comfy on the couch. I’ll fix us some drinks and snacks. Then you can tell me everything, alright?” Giving him a faint nod, Yahya kicked the door closed. He made quick work of getting you situated on the couch. Yahya wrapped you in your comfort blanket. Gently kissing your forehead, he whispered, “Be right back, love.”

He called from the kitchen, “Are you in the mood for something light or heavy?”

“This calls for the hard shit. Bring the tequila. I don’t even need a damn chaser. Give me something that will make me forget the last twenty-four hours.”

Yahya strode back into the living room, alcohol in hand.

“What are you about to tell me, love?”

“Maybe you should take a couple of shots first.”

Yahya set the shot glasses and bottle on the coffee table. His hand ran down his face as he took a deep breath, “Am I going to have to beat his ass?”

You sat up straight, dropping the blanket around your waist. Pouring two shots, you answered, “Just promise me you won’t lose your temper.”

“No.”

“Yah', please,” you begged, voice trembling.

“The desperation in your voice tells me that I’m going to regret this, but fine, I promise not to lose my temper. What happened?”

“Drink first.”

Shots were thrown back, and you grimaced, pouring out two more. After the second, you started to pour another round, but Yahya’s hand gently grasped your wrist, “No-.”

A small whimper fell from your lips as his eyes grew. Yahya’s eyes darted from your weary ones down to your wrist. His hands were like lightning as he slid your sleeve up a bit.

“No, fuck that, mama! Is this a bruise?” 

“You promised, Yah'.”

“Promises are meant to be broken. Where the fuck is his punk ass at?”

He sprang from the couch, searching his pockets for his keys.

“Where’s he at?”

“No, please, Yahya. You promised! I handled it.”

“Why are you protecting his bitch ass? Has he been putting his hands on you this whole time?”

“I’m not protecting him. I know he’ll press charges against you. It’s not worth it. This is the only time it’s happened, honestly!”

“Don’t lie for him. Tell. Me. Where. He. Is.”

“I’m not lying, Yah'. This is the first time. I handled it, I swear. You should see the side of his face. I smacked the shit out of him.”

“Did he hit you anywhere else,” he asked, checking your face and body for more bruises.

“No, I’m telling you the truth. We were arguing about him getting caught up in his lies and cheating. I told him I was done and that he needed to get the hell out of my house. This dude had the nerve to snatch my wrist, demanding I hear him out. I told him he was hurting me. His response was he didn’t give a fuck. That pissed me off, so I slapped him. He charged at me, and I kicked him in the nuts. How do you cheat on me with a bitch I called a friend and have the nerve to be mad that I no longer wish to be with you? The audacity!”

“I pray he tries to show up while I’m here.”

“He won’t. It’s over, and he understands that now.”

Yahya looked at you, not quite believing it.

“I told his ass if he tried contacting or coming near me again that you’d beat his ass. That or he was going to have a chat with Nina.”

“Thought you didn’t want me to put hands on him. You swear your ass is tough with that baby Glock. Who the fuck puts hot pink on the butt of their gun,” he retorted.

“I don’t want you to, smart-ass, but he knows you would. It was only said to get my point across that I was done with him. Not too much on my baby, Nina.”

Yahya sighed, frustrated that he’d have to keep his promise. He reclaimed his spot on the couch, crossing his arms irritated. You kissed your teeth, “I know you're not mad at me for keeping you out of trouble?”

“It’s whatever. He needs his ass beat, though,” he sulked.

“Just leave it alone, Yah'.”

“I heard you the first time.”

The room grew quiet. It stayed that way for a little while. That was until he heard you sniffling.

“I’m not mad at you, love. I just really want to rock his shit.”

“I know you’re not mad at me. It’s just.”

“What is it, mama?”

“Am I not good enough? Dudes do me dirty, and people I call friends turn out to be grimy. You’re the only person who has always been down for me. I’m so thankful for your years of loyalty and friendship,” you rambled, tears sliding down your face.

Yahya pushed his anger aside, taking a deep breath. His hands reached for your arm, pulling you into him. His palm cradled your head, guiding you to lie against his chest. He kissed your temple, speaking words of encouragement.

“That’s just god's way of making room for the real ones to come into your life, mama. You’re going to be alright, love. You’ll shake back from this. You’re strong, girl. The right man is out there. He’ll love you the way you deserve to be loved.”

As he held you, speaking enlightenment into you. Something shifted inside you. Not quite sure what the feeling was, you shook it off.

“More tequila,” you offered.

The pair of you went shot for shot. It only took a short time for you both to get drunk off your asses. In a drunken stupor, you both laughed as you recounted the numerous times you had to fake a climax with your ex. Yahya was in tears, holding his stomach, laughing uncontrollably.

“This man had to be talked through eating the box. Every. Single. Time. At what point do you finally get the gist of eating pussy? I can’t believe I stayed as long as I did.”

“Why did you stay?”

“The dick was big.”

A hand flew to your mouth, covering your lips, shocked at what you had just revealed.

“Sorry. That was probably too much information. I need to stop drinking,” you slurred, no longer able to look him in the eyes.

Yahya cupped your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“Not too much. That’s some pretty useful information,” he rasped.

Your breath hitched as you looked into his chocolate orbs.

“I don’t follow.”

“That’s what you like, mama?”

Yahya’s hand trailed to your neck. His fingers circled your throat, giving a light squeeze. You knew you should pull away, but your mind and body said two different things.

“Yahya,” you whispered.

“Answer me, mama. That’s what you like?”

You moaned, nodding your head yes. Yahya licked his lips at your response. 

“I want to hear you say it, love. Tell me what you like. I want to make sure you understand what I’m trying to say,” he groaned.

The liquor urged you to take it further. You leaned closer, his hand still squeezing your throat. Lips only inches apart, Yahya watched in awe as you answered, breath tickling his lips.

“I love a big, long, thick di-.”

Before you could finish the sentence, Yahya groaned and devoured your lips. Not giving it a second thought, he slid you on top of his lap as your tongues battled for dominance. Hand still placed around your neck, you ground against his lap, loving the groan he released. 

“I can see why that was useful information now,” you purred.

It was evident, even inside his jeans, you could feel that he was massively large. You pulled back, slipping your shirt off, dropping it to the floor. His eyes sparkled at the sight of your breast as he cupped them, kissing and suckling your neck.

“Are you sure this is what you want, mama?”

“Yes, I want you, Yah'. Fuck the pain away, please.”

Kissing your lips again, he held you close as he raised from the sofa. Arms wrapped around his neck. You tasted each other's lips as Yahya carried you to the bedroom. The following morning wasn’t even awkward. That’s probably because you woke up with Yahya’s head between your thighs. A serious discussion occurred over breakfast. Though you both decided it probably shouldn’t happen again, time would reveal that it was too late to turn back.

I know I left it on yet another cliffhanger, but that's my specialty😆. I got my lovelies, though. The fic is complete, so slide on over to part two. Before you go, leave a comment and tap the love button. Reblogs are greatly appreciated🫶🏾!

Gif Credit: @abdulmateens, thanks again for allowing me to use it for my mood board💗.

Divider Credit: @firefly-graphics.

Tagging a few lovelies:

@sheabuttahwrites , @moebuttta , @darqchilddaydreamz

@alertyoulikeitsamber , @astoldbychae , @miyuhpapayuh

@sunshine-flower , @nightlywords7 , @4everbrookemarie

@delta7of96 , @novaniskye , @1andonlytashae

@shaolyninferno , @mcdesij , @willadean

@partygetsmewetter-x , @blackerthings , @peachbuttetfly

@theraieinfluence , @honestpreference , @queeniekiy

@tashawar , @skyesthebomb , @captainwithoutmakingitlove

[thefantasyride]

I need Yahya smut to read during my holiday weekend. Reply with the story links and I'll be sure to reblog them as always. 🤝🏾

[megamindsecretlair]

Runaway Lover, Part 1

Pairing: Big Stunna x Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. SMUT. ANGST. PWP, cursing, PIV, oral (female and male receiving) teasing/mocking, cum play/swallowing, size kink, dirty talk, praise kink, referring to female anatomy as she, all consensual. Use of n-word. Mentions of God, Christian leaning. Sorry if I missed some, I'm rushing, just let me know.

Summary: On a girl's trip with your friends to Punta Cana, getting some much needed rest before spring semester, you bump into Stunna and a whirlwind romance rocks you to your core.

Word Count: 9,326k

Part 2 | Part 3

A/N: This is a wonderful ask from @melaninpov. I'm sorry if this wasn't what you had in mind, I've been watching romance movies all day and this turned sweet unexpectedly. Happy Valentine's Day, my loves. Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!

Taglist: @planetblaque @blackerthings @browngirldominion @we-outsiiiide @thecookiebratz @iv0rysoap @notapradagurl7 @sevikasblackgf @miyuhpapayuh @xo-goldengirl @kindofaintrovert @flydotty @judymfmoody @slippinninque @soufcakmistress @henneseyhoe @westside-rot @melaninpov @twocentuar @blackpinup22 @babybratzmaraj @theyscreamsannii @kiabialia

“Are you sure this isn’t too short?” You asked your friends. You stood in the bathroom of your hotel suite. The bright, fluorescent lighting in the bathroom highlighted everything. Everything. You wore a simple gold dress with intricate bronze and burnished orange swirls. It was a tad too short and showed a tad too much.

You weren’t a prude but you were also unused to showing…so much. You tugged at the short sleeves, the low neckline, and pinched the areas around your sides. You weren’t sure why you packed the damn thing, but you were drinking while packing. Something you vowed to never do again.

“You look so hot!” Your friend, Stella, said and moved closer to you and faced the mirror. She wore a violet dress with sparkling beads woven in to make it look like she wore a dress made of stars. It fit her deep ebony skin perfectly and brought out the subtle jewel tones in her skin.

You bit your lip, tasting the sweet lipgloss you dabbed on your lips. Abusing your lips was your worst sin and you avoided putting anything on them but tonight, you were all about new experiences. Hopefully. 

“I should change,” you said. You pushed past Stella’s calls out for you to stop and that there was no need. 

Angela appeared in the doorway and trapped you in the bathroom. “Damn girl!” You said. Stella’s sister was gorgeous in a marigold bodycon dress that hugged all of her curves and showed off her perfectly round ass. Truly, an apple bottom that she claimed was her best feature. 

Angela preened under the praise but did not lower her hands from the door frame. “You’re not changing. None of us are changing. We only have two days left before it’s back to fucking school and we’re going out with a bang. They better be throwing us out before the trip is over,” she said. 

She pushed you back into the bathroom. Thank goodness the space was big enough for all three of you. There were wide tile squares on the floor, a discarded hotel towel on the floor to keep you all from slipping, and two large mirrors over a double sink. 

Angela and Stella finished up their makeup and demanded that you applied more gloss. Stella handed you a clutch to match your dress and told you to take the gloss with you. 

You accepted it with a roll of your eyes. You’d likely go through the entire tube before the night was over. You were constantly at battle with your anxiety. Ya’ll really didn’t fuck with each other but it was like a toxic ex that didn’t know how to leave you alone. You could block, skip, and hop away from it but it was always lurking around the corner.

“Alright! Let’s go!” Stella yelled, getting you two pumped for the night’s activities. You all put on your matching heels or sandals, grabbed purses and clutches, and tucked in last minute items you may need, and headed out of the door.

Punta Cana was a balmy destination spot with plenty of resorts. The trip there had been uneventful but you and your friends had stayed glued to the windows, snapping pictures of the local plantlife, hills, and palm trees. 

At the resort, you couldn’t help looking around in wide-eyed wonder, taking in the people and accommodations. You had been here for a few days enjoying the beach and accompanying swimming pool at the resort. 

Everyone was friendly and open and a staff member was always around waiting to answer your questions. The goal of the trip was rest, rest, and more fucking rest. You were approaching your final year of school. After this spring semester, you were officially a senior and would have to enter the dreaded world of adults.

Stella and Angela kept up a steady stream of chatter on the ride down the elevator about what they were most excited for. The adults only resort was a breath of fresh air. No kids running around and no harried parents running after them. 

Tonight, you were going to the club in the resort. So far, your activities have kept you from that venue. You rode ATVs and did a snorkeling tour off the shore of the beach. You also climbed into a boat to watch the local marine life. That part was your favorite.

Angela had to remind you that you were in fact young and it was okay to enjoy yourself. Half the time, you didn’t know where your anxiety came from. You could be having the time of your life and then boom! Your anxiety was snatching your breath away and warning you of an invisible threat. No matter how many times you asked for proof or begged to know what the threat was, your anxiety only shook its head and repeated the warning tone: danger, danger!

You shoved your anxiety in the recesses of your mind. You were not in danger. There was no threat. You were only here to have a good time. 

On the main floor of the resort, the wide open arches and large windows let in enough of the view that you saw the moon ascending the sky. Sunset was losing its grip on this part of the world. Swirling colors of lilac, tangerine, and amber dotted the sky as night approached. The ambient lighting outside began to turn on one by one.

Stella looped her arms through yours and Angela’s arms and pulled you toward the entrance to the club. The music reached you first. Hotel guests were spilling in and out of the place so it must be a popular spot. 

You swallowed around the huge lump in your throat as you pushed inside, flashing your wristbands that confirmed your age and the amenities you paid for. The staff member waved you in with a polite smile and soon you were entrenched in the booming club.

The space itself was huge with plenty of dancefloor area. The upbeat, fast paced music got everybody dancing and shaking their hips. There were pillars stationed around the room holding up the ceiling but other than that, it was pretty much open. There was a bar area on a raised platform filled with tables and chairs. 

Most were all occupied as people looked over the railing at the brave people down below getting it on in various states of fancy clothing. Dresses flew through the space. Heels clacked on the floor. Hands were in the air in an undulating wave like the waters that crashed on the shore. 

There was a heavy smell of liquor and sweat and some type of sweet perfume in the air that tried to combat it. There was no way to combat the funk so it ended up smelling like sweet sweat. But that was to be expected with so many people in one room shaking what the Lord gave them. 

You and your friends made a beeline to the bar, immediately ordering sugary drinks that would go straight to your head. Alcohol was never a proper solution to anxiety. However, you’d take anything for a release from its shackles for the night. 

As you waited for your drink, you bounced your shoulders trying to get your body to catch up to your mind. “Naw, show us what you got, girl!” Stella said. She whistled and encouraged you to dance a little more, shake a little more.

Fuck it. You couldn’t let your anxiety win this time around. You started getting into it, shaking your booty faster and then backing away from the bar. You felt the rhythm of the song, waving your hands and getting your whole body into it.

You backed up one more step and tripped, your body flying to the right. You shrieked, hands reaching out to catch your fall. However, you didn’t fall. Strong arms encircled you. It took a few moments for your mind to catch up to the fact that you weren’t kissing the nasty club floor. 

Your heart roared in your chest, causing stops and starts that made you shake all over. The strong arms pulled you back to standing, righting yourself on your wedges. “Thank you,” you said.

You looked up into the most gorgeous pair of brown eyes you had ever seen. Those eyes were framed by a long face, wide nose, and a trimmed dark beard. He had a big smile with perfect, symmetrical teeth encased in hollow grills.

The man had rich, deep golden brown skin that he showed off with a collared navy shirt and black jeans. His upper arms were bulging with muscles, straining against the short sleeves of his shirt. 

He was in a word: devastating. 

“Are you okay?” Sound finally filtered past your racing heartbeat. The way he looked at you gave you the indication that he had asked it more than once. You bit your lip and nodded. You forgot how words worked. 

“Are you sure you didn’t twist anything?” He asked. His voice felt like what hot chocolate on a cold evening tasted like. It warmed you up from the inside out, awakening places that didn’t usually awaken for anything other than your favorite celebrity and brownies.

Your mind was slow, fuzzy around the edges, as it dawned on you that he was pointing to your feet. You moved each leg, leaning on him while you lifted your legs and moved them in a tiny circle. 

You looked back into his eyes and nodded again. “Good,” you chirped. 

He smiled slowly. Fuck, you could watch him smile for the rest of your days and never get sick of it. He was so damn cute. And hot. A dangerous combination that had you acting like Helen Keller. ‘Cept you could plainly see how divinely sexy he was. 

“Can I buy you a drink to apologize for ruining your dance?” He asked.

You smiled and ducked your head, cheeks warming up from the embarrassment of dancing in front of him. You looked down at his hands secured around your arms, at your hands on his. 

You started to move them but he held on a little tighter, unwilling to let you go. “I…kind of already ordered one,” you said around the thick lump in your throat. Come on! Get it together! What the hell was wrong with you? 

“Oh, are you here with someone?” He asked. He still didn’t let you go. 

You licked your lips, the sweet taste of manufactured strawberries coating your tongue and snapping some sense back into you. You nodded and looked towards your friends. They were openly gawking at you. 

“My friends,” you finally said. 

“But no guy?” He asked. 

You giggled and shook your head. “No girl?” You asked.

He smiled and shook his head. “I’m Stunna,” he said. 

You told him your name. He said a few times, rolling the syllables around his tongue like one did to a lollipop. You focused on his mouth and the way he said your name. As if he had been saying it his whole life and never wanted to stop. 

“If I can’t buy you a drink, can I get your number? You from the States?” He asked. 

Anxiety reared its huge, ugly, monstrous head. You were nervous to just…abandon your friends. Let alone your drink. With your luck, you lived on complete opposite sides of the country. You nodded, to give him an answer about the States. But were too nervous to tell him where. To even hint at the possibility that you could occupy the same city and there wasn’t a national alert about it. 

You were sure that he caused a storm of women wherever he went. You would have noticed if he lived around the Bay. You knew that you’d feel him in your blood, taste him in your veins if you lived in the same area. Certain that you would have bumped into each other already. Seen each other somewhere. 

“I should probably get back to my friends. I’m sure your friends are missing you as well,” you said. You reluctantly withdrew your hold on him. Your small claim for the time being. Relinquishing that hold hurt. 

He nodded. As you turned to leave, he swiftly caught your hand. He brought it to his lips and kissed your fingers. “Save a dance for me? I wanna see more of them moves.” 

A nervous giggle pushed against your rib cage, threatening to spill over. You swallowed it back down and bit your lip. You didn’t want to keep turning him down but your stomach twisted and turned. Danger! Threat! 

There was nothing threatening about the man so you figured that you needed away. You needed space to breathe and think. Time spent away from his spicy cologne that tickled your nose. 

You nodded once more. What were the odds that he’d find you again in this club? If your friends weren’t at the bar, you wouldn’t know the first place to look for them. 

Stunna let go of your hand and backed away, giving you a small wink before turning back to his friends. He was surrounded by a group of guys, all hot in some way or another? Damn. You checked out his back side as you walked back to your friends. 

“The hell you doing back here?” Stella asked.

“What’s happening? Why aren’t you sitting in that man’s lap?” Angela asked. 

“What are you talking about?” You asked. You grabbed your drink, the glass sweating from sitting so long. How long had you been talking to Stunna? And why did you feel like you wanted to run right back into his arms?

You took deep gulps of the fruity concoction, letting the alcohol seep through your system and chase away your anxiety. The cold from the drink burned away the lump in your throat. Being away from him helped. It helped in a way that was foreign to you to name or identify. 

People didn’t have physical reactions to others right? Like that was a thing made up by romance movies to get people’s heads in the clouds and sell more candy in stores, right? 

Your friends hounded you for answers to their questions, wondering what you spoke about and why you weren’t still talking to him.

“I didn’t want to abandon you for some guy. This is a girl’s trip. A relaxing trip,” you said.

“You better relax on that man’s dick! Like you saw him right? Like you saw the way he looked at you? Girl, please tell me she’s not that oblivious,” Stella said, leaning her head on her sister’s shoulder.

Angela tossed her hands up as if she were preaching to a congregation. “Father God, grant your child the gift of sight because she’s clearly blind,” Angela said. 

You laughed, rubbing your forehead at their embarrassing shenanigans. “I’m not oblivious!” 

“I pray that I’ll never do some dumb shit like her, Lord. Smite her and send the nigga my way, because damn,” Stella said. She looked behind you and you panicked, standing in her way to not bring attention to the fact that you were discussing Stunna. You risked a glance over your shoulder.

Stunna was sitting down at a table, faced in your direction. He lifted his glass to you and you smiled, turning around and immediately dropping it. The drink wasn’t helping. Butterflies flapped tiny wings in your stomach. He was killing you. 

“What happened to new experiences?” Angela asked.

“Not that damn new,” you muttered, sipping more of your drink. At this rate, you’d need ten drinks to calm the wings in your stomach. 

Stella groaned dramatically, throwing her arms across your shoulders. “As sweet as it is to worry about us, you see us every damn day. How often do you run across someone that damn fine in real life? In real life? He belongs in a magazine or on TV or some shit,” she said. 

That was the fucking truth. “He probably lives on the East Coast or something,” you said, waving Stella off of you. You were too hot. There were too many people here. Too many clusters of hot breath, sweat, and body heat raising the temperature in the room to dangerous levels. 

You sipped more of your drink. You tapped your foot against the hard floor, vibrating with energy that had nowhere to go. Nothing to do but zip up and down your body and twist your insides. 

“So? You ain’t trynna marry the nigga. Just get down,” Angela said and bent low, shaking her hips. Stella joined her, sticking their tongues out. Stella turned around and bounced her booty against Angela. Angela mimed hitting Stella’s ass and you laughed, waving them away.

“You two are a hot fucking mess!” You screamed. They continued to dance and giggle, shaking their ass and proceeding to make you wish the floor swallowed you whole. 

“Since our girl is romantically deficient, let’s get on the floor,” Stella said. You finished your drink and followed your friends to the dance floor. 

You started out stiff, not wanting to bump up against anyone. You didn’t need a repeat from earlier. Your friends noticed your reluctance and each took one of your hands. They began to swing you around. 

You smiled, falling for their obvious charm. You loosened up and relaxed. The drink finally did the trick and you surrendered to the music. You closed your eyes and felt the thumping beats, the instruments, and sultry crooning of the singer. 

You danced and laughed with your friends, relishing the feeling of being young and carefree. This was what you had been chasing this entire trip. This feeling of being present and in the moment. 

You began to twerk as the music changed, popping your ass to the beat of the song. Your friends cheered you on. You placed your hands on your knees and got lower. Someone sidled up behind you, not one of your friends you were sure. 

You shrugged your shoulders and kept dancing. Now was the time to keep living in the moment. You could dance with someone that wasn’t in your immediate comfort circle. You couldn’t always hang onto your friends like a barnacle. 

Large hands circled your waist and you leaned back into a lean but strong frame. The stranger felt like a man and a good dancer on top of it. Able to match your changing moves. The stranger grabbed your hands and spun you around to face him.

Stunna grinned at the surprise on your face. “I thought I told you to save me a dance,” he yelled to be heard over the music. 

“What took you so long?” You asked. 

“Like that?” He asked, exaggerating his words. You nodded. He matched your nod and then spun you back around. You giggled, breathless at being spun around like a doll. He pulled you around the dancefloor dancing to the fast-paced music with ease. Now it was you that was having trouble keeping up with him.

You faced him now and your hands were in each other’s, dancing with complicated turns and twirling limbs that made you feel like you were on Dancing With the Stars. The song finished and you waved your heads. “I need a break!” 

Stunna grinned, flashing those damn grills. You stared at them, wondering if he took them out during sex. Was he the type to go down on a woman? Stunna winked as he if sensed the direction of your thoughts.

He placed his hand on your lower back and led you back to the bar. You ordered some water and he made you order a drink. “Since you don’t wanna give a nigga your phone number,” he said with a show-stopping smile. 

You rolled your eyes. “Why do you want my number?” You asked. You drank the water bottle at his nudging.

“So I can hear that sexy ass voice in my ear,” he said. 

You rolled your eyes playfully and played with the paper around the water bottle. “You’re so bad,” you said. 

He shrugged his shoulders, calling your name like he was savoring the taste of it. “I’m still right though. I want to keep talking to you,” he said.

You could practically feel your friends on your shoulders like little devils pushing you to give him your number. What harm could it do? You held out your hand for his phone. He dug it out of his pocket and handed it to you.

His total focus on you while you entered your number was unnerving. You couldn’t help giggling as you put in your number. He reached out and trailed a finger down your arm, raising goosebumps in its wake. You messed up on a number and giggled in his direction.

“You’re distracting me,” you said. 

“Yeah? Good. But make sure that number right,” he said. He peeked across the screen as you backspaced and entered your number correctly. 

He smelled like his cologne, sweat, and whatever drink he had throughout the night. You handed his phone back to him. You fanned yourself with your clutch while he looked at his phone. 

He smiled and tapped a few times. “There, now you have my number,” he said. 

The butterflies returned to your stomach the longer you spent in his presence. He liked that he could fluster you so easily and tried his damndest to keep doing so. Your cheeks ached from all the smiling you did. 

You talked more about yourself and your friends and why you came to the D.R. He told you that he was out here celebrating for his friend’s wedding. The wedding had already passed, cheaper during the week, so they were spending the weekend celebrating with friends.

“It’s nice of you all to come out here and celebrate with them,” you said. Stunna turned his head to the side, he didn’t hear you. The music seemed to get louder and even though you yelled, he couldn’t hear you.

Stunna scooted closer to you and yelled in your ear. “Wanna go outside?” 

You looked at him and nodded. You couldn’t hear shit, but you were pretty sure you could hear your friends whooping for joy as Stunna took your hand and led you outside of the club.

Your ears popped as you reached the quiet interior of the lobby. There was a stark contrast between the two rooms and your ears rung. You shook your head, trying to clear the ringing. Stunna did the same, shaking his shoulders too for good measure.

Being out in the lobby, the base temperature felt like frost at the top of a mountain. You shivered as it highlighted buckets of sweat rolling down your spine and between your breasts. 

A drop of sweat rolled down Stunna’s arm and you followed the movement as it trailed down a prominent vein. Stunna still held your hand and you walked out of the resort, past the open pool that shimmered with light from nearby lamps. 

You walked along the concrete pathways heading down to the beach. Before you stepped onto the sand, you leaned down and took off your wedges. Stunna took off his boots, and rolled up his pants legs. 

“Looks like I was smart to wear a dress,” you said and giggled at him. 

“Damn smart. I’m glad you did. Your body in that dress, hmm,’ he said and rolled his bottom lip between his teeth. 

“Stop,” you chuckled and shook your head. He was incorrigible. 

“Naw, I can’t. Your ass looks amazing. Thighs I just wanna squeeze. Lips I wanna kiss,” he said. He stood up to his full height and you stared at him.

Soft moonlight fell over his features on one side of his face. The lamps gave a warm glow on the other side. He was light, soaking it all up and reflecting it back out to seem like he had an inner glow. 

You sighed, staring at this work of art before you. You wanted to pinch yourself. You stepped closer but Stunna only smiled, grabbed your hand, and you took off down the beach. You spent time walking up and down, warm sand digging between your toes. 

You talked more, learning about him and how much he loved to read. You shared that passion and spoke about books you’ve read and favorite authors. He took your recommendations seriously, pulling out his phone to add books to a list on his phone. 

“Come back to my room,” he said.

You shook your head. “Won’t your friends be looking for you?” 

“Naw. I got my own room. I ain’t sharing shit with them nasty niggas,” he said.

You laughed, moving away from him as the sand made you trip up. Stunna pulled you back to his side. “See, yo clumsy ass need somewhere to sit. Come sit in my room,” he said. 

You were back in the same position from earlier when he rescued you from falling. He gripped your elbows, standing close enough to lick, and your hands were on his arms. He was too close, surrounding you with him. You couldn’t think past him. When you looked up, all you saw was him. 

You waited to feel panicked and shaky. To warn you to step away and flee from him. It never came. “If I go back to your room, I doubt we’ll just be sitting,” you said.

“I never said that. That’s yo nasty mind,” he said. He licked his lips. “But I like the way you think. You wanna come sit in my lap?” 

There were no reservations. No warning bells in your head. No screeches of noise or racing thoughts to prevent you from biting your lip and nodding. From grabbing his hand and watching each other as you left the beach and headed inside. 

You didn’t talk as you leaned against one another in the elevator. He placed a kiss to your head and you melted even further into him. The elevator softly dinged and the doors opened to his floor. He stayed in the building next to your room. You were sort of relieved. Had he stayed in the same building or even on the same floor, it would have been too perfect. Too obviously a set up by God or whoever was out there listening. 

Stunna swiped his keycard once he got to his room and opened the door. You walked inside the cool room and turned on lights. 

He had a suitcase on the couch of his suite, open to reveal some clothes he packed. He had shoes strewn about but for the most part, he was a clean guest. He closed the door and you turned to look at him. 

You placed your shoes on the ground next to his, marveling at the contrast between your sizes. It looked oddly perfect sitting side by side. You ignored that runaway thought as you quickly texted your friends that you would be late to the room. It was a good chance to not wait up for you at all if this night went how you were expecting.

Stunna watched you place your clutch on the TV stand. He moved about the room, cleaning up but it wasn’t necessary. Just bags and bottles of water that were on the nightstand. 

“I’ll wash off this sand,” you told him. 

“I’ll go after you. Take your time,” he said.

Take your time, yeah right. If you took long enough, you would summon your anxiety like an ancient deity out for your blood. You quickly went to the bathroom and freshened up a little, running the bath to clean off your feet. You didn’t even look at yourself in the mirror. If you did, you would chicken out. 

You didn’t want to chicken out. You wanted a wild story. A story to tuck in your heart and bring out as the years passed and you lived your life. A story that you held on to when you got older and your partying days was nearing its end. 

When you left the bathroom, Stunna had lowered the lights to make it more intimate and softer. He opened the curtains revealing a balcony that overlooked the ocean. He stood outside, twisting caps off of water bottles. He also had a bottle of Hennesy on the small table outside. 

You approached and he smiled when you did. “I’ll be right back,” he said.

He went to the bathroom to clean off the sand. You stepped out fully and enjoyed the breeze kissing your skin. You sipped some of the Hennessy, enjoying that sweet burn. The ocean waves crashed against the shore but from this height, you saw further than you did in your room. 

Few stars were able to wink in and out behind dark clouds in the sky. The half moon shone down onto the beach and over the resort. Stunna returned and wrapped his hands around your waist, leaning against you. 

He grabbed the cup from your hands and finished the rest. He kissed his way along your exposed neck, sending shivers down your spine. You sighed and relaxed into him. He made no move to do anything else, no roaming hands or nasty words. 

“You are so gorgeous,” he said.

You turned in his arms and faced him. “I’m done talking. Kiss me,” you said.

He grinned, flashing those damn golds that have been driving you crazy all night. “You sure?”

You wrapped your hands around his neck and pulled him closer before you lost your nerve. You finally tasted him, tasted the bite of Hennessy on his lips. His lips were warm and wet and his tongue dived into your mouth. You moaned as he explored, running his tongue along yours and along your teeth. 

Stunna’s hands gripped your arms and moved lower, cupping your ass and squeezing tight. You growled from how good it felt. How wonderful it felt to be in his arms. Stunna hissed in between his kisses, like you were both on fire but he was willing to risk kissing you through the flames.

Your back was against the railing and he pushed into you, rubbing his erection against your tummy. You moaned. 

“Keep moaning like that and I won’t be able to control myself,” he said against your lips. You opened your eyes to look at him. 

“Don’t control yourself,” you said. 

He laughed and licked his lips. He sat down in the closest chair and pulled you into his lap. You straddled him, wobbling a bit since his stance was so wide. Your legs draped on the outside of his and he spread his legs so that he could spread you wider. 

His hands searched under your dress so that he could cup your ass directly. Dig those skillful fingers into the meat of your ass. He spanked one cheek and you jerked in his lap, your pussy rubbing against the fabric of his jeans. 

He growled, fingers seeking your wet heat. When he found your clit, he had no mercy. He began to run his thumb around the sensitive nub. You scooted higher on his lap, needing the friction of his jeans to help speed your arousal along. Not that you really needed it. You were already dripping for him. 

“Mm, so wet. You always sit your pretty ass on strangers and let them finger your pussy?” He asked around kissing you. 

“N-No,” you moaned. 

He suckled on your bottom lip and your pussy throbbed. He was working some type of magic between your legs. Some type of spell that threatened to rip you into pieces. 

“No? You telling me that this is all for me?” He asked. “I get to be the one to play with you?” 

“Yess,” you sighed against his lips. 

“Then I should feel special that you’re soaking my fingers already and I’ve yet to feel you?” 

“Shit,” you sighed. Your arms were wrapped completely around his neck, holding onto him and keeping him close. 

He kissed your neck, licking it, while his fingers finally dipped into your entrance. You shook with a long moan, throwing your head back as pleasure rolled through you in cascading waves. 

“Nasty little girl, aren’t you?” He asked. 

“N-No,” you whined. 

He chuckled. “You letting me play with your pussy. And it feels so good gripping my fingers. Bad little girl,” he growled against your throat. 

His other hand snaked up your body until he gripped your throat. Your eyes rolled to the back as he squeezed with force. He brought your head closer so that your foreheads were touching. 

His fingers increased in pressure and he drove them into you. Effectively fucking you with his fingers. “Say you’re a bad girl,” he said. 

Your breathing was heavy and slow, not pumping enough oxygen into your brain. Or perhaps it was him. Perhaps he was some type of demon, stealing the oxygen from your lungs as your orgasm swam to the surface. 

You couldn’t make your words work. The words stuck to the roof of your mouth like peanut butter. Your mouth moved, working double time as he stuck two fingers inside and rolled your clit with his thumb.

“Say it if you wanna cum,” he said.

“I wanna,” you whined. 

“You wanna what?” He asked. “Shit, you’re so fucking wet. Can’t wait to taste you. Do you taste as sweet as you look?” 

You whined and gyrated your hips. Why couldn’t you say anything? Why couldn’t your mouth work to speak? 

“I wanna cum,” you finally choked out. You leaned your head back. He allowed you to do so and he kissed your neck around his fingers, dipping low to kiss your chest and just above your breasts. 

“Say you’re a bad girl if you wanna cum,” he demanded. 

You were close. Incredibly close. “Don’t stop, don’t stop,” you moaned.

“I’m waiting,” he whispered against your skin. Blowing air across your chest, around the pools of saliva he left on your skin. 

“I’m bad. I’m a bad girl,” you moaned.

“So bad,” he agreed.

“So bad. You make me feel so good,” you moaned. 

His fingers never stopped pumping into you. Your legs squeezed his and your eyes shut as you cried with your orgasm. Stunna continued to pump his fingers as you came, cooing against your skin. 

“So pretty when you cum,” he said. When you were done and slumped against him, he withdrew his fingers. Shivers still wracked your body. He moaned while he suckled on his fingers, licking up your essence.

You watched him as he closed his eyes and savored your taste. You licked your lips watching him. He cleaned his fingers and gave you a wink. “You okay?” He asked.

You shook your head. “I wanna taste you too,” you said. 

He grinned. “Get on your knees,” he said. You slid off of his lap with a lopsided smile. The balcony floor wasn’t entirely comfortable, but you were too focused on him unzipping his pants. He released himself from his pants and briefs. 

Your eyes widened. You couldn’t possibly fit the whole thing in your mouth?! 

Stunna chuckled and moved to put his dick away but you gripped his thighs. “I said, I want to taste you too.” You glanced at him as you took him into your mouth. He gave you an impressed smirk, licking his lips at the look of you taking him deep within your mouth.

You couldn’t fit all of him like you thought. But you got enough of him down. You hoped that your inexperience didn’t show. You’ve sucked dicks before but he was probably used to throat goats. Used to women taking him down to the base, fondling his balls, or knowing what the fuck to do.

You only knew that you wanted to keep going. Wanted to please him. You drooled on him and released him to get some air. Using both hands, you twisted his long shaft and then suckled the head of his dick back into your mouth.

His eyes opened and closed, back bowing off of the chair, as he groaned. His hand palmed your head and pushed you down on his dick, pushing you past your limit until you choked. He eased up, but you took him how he wanted. Your saliva helped your hands twist around his dick and coat his tip.

“Gahh damn. Fuckin’ nasty,” he groaned. You made a pleased sound in the back of your throat and continued to take him deeper and faster. Your sloppy, wet suckling was loud in the quiet air. 

You slurped him, drops of precum hitting your tongue. You suckled him all down, glancing at him periodically to see the ecstasy on his face. The pleasure you were bringing him. 

“Gonna bust,” he groaned.

“Wanna taste,” you said around his dick. 

His breathing turned choppy before he tensed. You felt his orgasm travel up his shaft before he moaned, releasing his cum in your mouth. You continued to milk him for every drop you could. You swallowed him all down. 

He pushed at your shoulders to stop, sounds escaping him that you never heard from a man. “Too good,” he panted.

You grinned. You wiped at the corners of your mouth. “You’re dangerous,” he said.

You blinked up innocently at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said. 

His eyebrows raised and he chuckled, wiping the sweat from his brow. “Remember you said that,” he said. 

He scooted the chair back and stood up, helping you to your feet. He pushed you into the room and closed the balcony door, leaving behind a tiny crack to still let in the breeze from the ocean. 

He unzipped your dress and dropped it to the floor, sighing at the look of your body. You never felt so cherished during sex. You weren’t expecting love and all that crap whenever you took someone to bed. It was more like an overwhelming itch that needed to be scratched.

After the deed, your anxiety returned with a vengeance and you were the first out of the door. No one wanted to deal with an anxious mess after getting off. 

With Stunna, there was none of that usual nervousness or shyness holding you back. You just wanted him. 

Your soaked panties went next. He knelt down, doing all the work of removing it. He kissed along your spine and back, the globes of your ass, and the back of your thighs. You shivered at the attention. The care with which he removed your panties.

He stood back up and unhooked your bra, freeing your breasts. He eagerly grabbed them from behind and rolled your nipples between his fingers. He pulled you until you leaned back against him.

“Can’t wait to get these in my mouth. I wanna be a gentleman, but fuck. I just want to break you,” he said.

A vicious tingle spread around your thighs. “I never asked you to be a gentleman,” you said.

He chuckled. “Fair, but I don’t wanna scare you away,” he said. 

“I’m a big girl. I can use my words when I need to,” you said.

“Yeah? Get on the bed then. Hands and knees, bad girl,” he said. He smacked your ass, hard and you did as instructed. You climbed into his bed and got on your hands and knees. 

You were too far away however. He grabbed your hips roughly and pulled you to the edge of the bed. He gripped himself and shoved into your inviting pussy with one savage thrust. His grip on your hip prevented you from escaping. You tried to lean forward, but he held you in place.

He pressed on your back until your chest was against the bed. Your ass was high in the air, giving him total access to you. He smacked your ass. 

“You been talkin’ mad shit all night,” he said. He began to stroke, delivering hard and long thrusts that immediately found your G-spot.

“Oh shit!” You cried out. 

“That’s my shit.” You heard the pleased grin in his tone. How did he find it so fast? 

He continued to stroke, hitting your sweet spot over and over with military precision. He smacked your ass with one hand while the other kept a firm grip. “You ain’t so bold now. A little dick shuts you up?” He asked. 

You couldn’t speak. He was slamming into you so hard, just the way you always dreamt of. It brought tears to your eyes. Most guys were afraid to be rough. Afraid of catching a case once you asked them to go a little deeper or stroke a little harder. 

Not Stunna. He drove into you, seeking something you couldn’t name. It didn’t take long before you were convulsing, shaking on his dick. 

“Talk to me, then. Say somethin’ else,” he said.

“Achgg,” you moaned, eyes rolling. 

Stunna continued to work himself inside of you. His dick speared you. Nearly split you in half. You bounced back on his dick, giving as much as you got. 

“Fuck,” he moaned. “Don’t let me stand in your way. You take what you need from me,” he said. 

Wet, smacking noises filled the room. The sound of your combined fucking pushed another orgasm to the surface. Your ass clapped on his thighs. Your screams were sure to draw the attention of his neighbors. 

He leaned forward and wrapped his hands around your throat. “Fuuh,” you moaned.

Both of you matched each other’s intensity. He pulled you by your throat to swallow every long inch of him. Your desperate thrusts sounded like thunder against his skin. 

“Goh, goh, fuh,” you chanted in rapid succession. 

“So good, so good. Pussy feel so good. You were made to take this dick, weren’t you? You were made for it,” he groaned. 

Your hands feebly held onto the bed in front of you but there was no use. This was so intense and passionate that your orgasm crushed you into a tiny ball and flung you into a tornado. You screamed until you were hoarse. Drool leaked out of your mouth with your whiny cries. 

Stunna continued to hold your throat and pound, chasing his own climax. “Greedy ass. Fuck, you take me so well,” he groaned. 

You were shaking as you rode out your orgasm. As soon as you ended, he began. He flooded your pussy with his cum, roaring like an animal as he climaxed. Your body twitched and spasmed on his dick. His dick hit something deep inside, too deep to know what. But it hit a natural reset. 

Stunna let go of your throat and held onto your hips to keep from falling on top of you. You both panted, harsh breaths filling the room. You sniffled as you recovered, brain quiet for once. 

Stunna slipped out of you and he leaned back to watch his cum slip out. He panted and his breaths fell across your ass and pussy. 

“Fuck,” he said. 

You agreed. You never felt something like that before. Possessed. Owned. It was a feeling you would spend your entire life trying to find again. Would you be able to? 

Both of you were too wobbly to move. As if with your dual climaxes, you had entered a new plane of existence. Being back in the real world sucked. It seemed foreign. You were changed by the experience so why hadn’t the world changed? 

Stunna left to go to the bathroom and returned with a warm washcloth. You cried at the sensation. “Shh, shh, I got you,” he said.

The rough fucking was everything you needed but you were fucking sore. You ached. It felt too damn good for you to complain though. He gently cleaned you up, wiping you down and wiping off some of the sweat. 

You curled up into a ball, trying to will yourself to move. To get dressed and make your escape. You felt like the sex police would descend from the ceiling and arrest you for upsetting the natural law of the universe. 

You couldn’t move. You felt too raw, too exposed. You focused on your breathing, on drawing air in and then out. Stunna returned from the bathroom and you cringed at the picture you must make.

“I’ll leave just as soon as my legs work,” you mumbled. 

Stunna chuckled. “Can you stay?” He sat on the bed in front of you. You were too afraid to look in his eyes. You didn’t know if you were over exaggerating the moment. You wouldn’t be able to bear it if you felt like your world tilted on its axis while it was just Friday night to him. 

Stunna laid down on the bed and lifted your chin with his fingers. “Please, stay,” he whispered.

His eyes swirled with emotion. As if the moment you left, this would all disappear from memory. Until he wasn’t sure if he dreamt this or it was real. It only mirrored what you were feeling so you nodded and he grinned. “What you need?” 

For your skin to feel like it wasn't going to slough off the moment you unfurled. You looked at him with wide eyes. He nodded as if he understood the turmoil inside of you. He stood up and then came around to lay behind you. His hands came around your arms and knees, pulling you into the heat of his body.

You sighed. Exactly what you needed. He pulled the covers over you, wrapping you in a tiny cocoon of heat. You drifted off to the sound of his quiet breathing. The last thing you felt was a tiny kiss behind your ear. 

In the morning, you yawned and stretched. Stunna was asleep next to you. Somehow, you were laying properly in the bed, head on a pillow and his hand draped across your tummy. You watched him in the early morning light. 

This was dangerous. Ludicrous. It was crazy to feel this type of connection with someone else. Someone so obviously built for you yet it couldn’t last. Tomorrow you were flying back home. On Monday, it was back to classes. 

After taking a peek at the edge of the universe, how did you go back to normal? How did you carry on and keep this in your memory bank? 

You had to get out. You lifted his hand to scoot away from him. Away from the oppressive heat that made sweat pool behind your knees. 

Stunna groaned and sniffed, pulling you back against his side. “Where you think you going?” He asked. 

You giggled. “Back to my suite,” you said. 

“You was gonna sneak out? That’s cold,” he said. His deep voice was rough from sleep and it made your pussy flutter. Really? After all that last night, she was still ready to go?!

“Sneak is such an ugly word.” You sighed as he finally cracked one eye open and looked at you.

“At least let me get you breakfast. You can get changed and meet me right back here,” he said.

You laughed. “What if I have plans?” You asked.

“You do. With me,” he said. 

You shook your head. “You’re crazy.” 

He grabbed your hand and linked your fingers together. Your hands were perfect against each other, skin tones perfectly aligned. 

“Please? Text your friends and tell them you’re safe. When do you leave?” He asked.

“Tomorrow,” you said.

“See? Give me one last day until we can figure out when we’ll see each other again.” 

You sighed. You couldn’t say no to that face. Those eyes. You bit your lip and nodded. He grinned, peppering you with kisses all over your face. 

He ordered room service and ate you out before it came up. He moaned and suckled while he did so, grinding his hips into the bed like he wanted to bury his face into your pussy forever. 

When the food arrived, you talked and ate and laughed, sharing more details about yourself but not personal information like the fact that you were in school or where he was working. You talked through safe subjects but all the information you gathered about him, you held it close to your heart. 

Each passing moment spent with him carved out a section of your heart and replaced it with a gorgeous, sexy man named Stunna. You did make it back to your room where your friends gushed over your night. You still had no words but you squealed while you showered and begged their forgiveness while you planned to spend the day with Stunna. 

They encouraged you, admitting that in a move that surprised no one, they found their way to their own flavor of the day. They agreed to come back to the room at a decent hour to pack away their shit and figure out their flight. 

You spent the rest of the day with Stunna, outside of his suite, walking around the resort. It had a small gambling area where he tried to show you how to play poker. He was a very sweet teacher, but you couldn’t make heads nor tails of the rules. You were more of a spades player, but good luck finding that shit here. 

You shared desserts and walked along the beach, sitting in the sand in between his legs and talking some more. Stunna stole kisses throughout the day, unwilling to leave your lips for the second it took to breathe and join back together. 

As night fell, you ate dinner with him and found your way back to his room where you slowly peeled each other’s clothes off. Where you feasted your eyes on his skin. Gasped as he entered you once more and you gave each other untold amounts of pleasure.

Where he held you like he loved you but fucked you like you stole something from him. You came, looking into his molten brown eyes, nuzzling your cheek against the stubble on his chin. He came with your legs pinned to the mattress and his dick threatening to fuck you into the mattress, the floor, and the next floor down. 

You kissed and cuddled while you talked about talking to him every day. He entered you again while you were stubborn, saying you might be busy. 

“Naw, this shit belong to me now,” he said while he thrusted into you for the…third time that night? Fourth? Who kept count while his delicious dick was inside you and you felt whole again? Complete. 

“It belongs to me,” you said.

He grinned and bit your nipple, then licked away the sting. He continued to nibble across delicate skin, moaning when he found your other nipple and tugged with his teeth. You hissed and your back curved, giving him all the access he wanted. 

“Do we have a problem?” He asked.

“Do we?” You countered.

He grinned and then slipped out of you, only to hike one of your legs up in the air. He reentered you from the side, slamming into you until you were crying and shaking on his dick, screaming out his name. 

“Stay talkin’ shit,” he groaned as he filled you up once more.

Saying goodbye to him was the hardest shit you ever had to do. It was like you both knew that even with talking every day, it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t the same as lying next to him and feeling him take up space in the room, in your heart, in your pussy. 

He kept tugging you back for one more kiss, asking if he could walk you to your room. You were blinking back tears. You didn’t want to leave him. But you couldn’t stay either. Both of you had places to be, lives to get back to. 

He leaned in the doorframe, holding your hand and not letting you leave. You smiled. “Stunna, you have to let go.” 

“I’on want to,” he said.

“It’s not forever,” you said, trying to sound hopeful. Your words only sounded sad. He sighed and rubbed his head on his arm. 

“I know. I know.” 

He pulled you close to him, capturing your lips with a devastating kiss. You licked his lips, committing the taste and smell of him to memory. “Not forever,” he said.

“Not forever.” 

You turned and snatched your hand. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t have the strength to leave. A cold numbness seeped into your bones as you made the trek to your suite. Stella and Angela commented on how melancholy you seemed.

How could you explain it? That you possibly found your soulmate in Punta Cana and had to leave him here? To be happy with texts and phone calls? Poor substitutes to hugging him, cuddling him, kissing him, fucking him? 

You told them that you were all fucked out to explain it now. Ask you in a week. When your heart wasn’t broken and the pain was less intense. Less potent. 

They left you alone to wallow while you all packed up your things and souvenirs. The ride back home was uneventful. You weren’t up to the usual plane shenanigans of talking and comparing in-flight meals. You didn’t feel like eating at all. 

You texted Stunna that you arrived safely and even spoke to him on the phone. But it only hurt worse. “C’mon, we said not forever,” he said. 

The bastard was right though. Hearing his voice in your ear helped but it wasn’t the same.

“Not forever. I just want you here,” you said.

“I know. We did a few things backward, but when we’re comfortable, we’ll arrange something,” he said. 

You talked until you absolutely had to go to sleep to get ready for class. Luckily, your first class of the day was in the afternoon. You had a chance to recover from the plane ride and time difference.

Everything was dull. The California sun was dull. The campus was boring. Students felt like aliens to you, playing and existing in a world that ended for you back in Punta Cana in Stunna’s arms. 

You sighed, not for the hundredth time, as you dragged your carcass across campus and to your class. Settling into your literature class, you didn’t share this with Stella and Angela. You were left to look out of the window, mind far, far away.

Your pen tapped on the desk, picturing that accidental bump into Stunna over and over again. Act of fate? Accident? How could you meet the love of your life only for you to be ripped away from him and planted back into your normal life like nothing was wrong? 

The door opened and you assumed your teacher came through. Whatever.

“Sorry, I’m late. Not used to the campus yet.”

Your head whipped around and there he was. Stunna stood at the front of the class wearing a deep brown sweater over chocolate colored pants. The sleeves were rolled up revealing his smooth forearms. 

He wrote his name on the whiteboard and your heart seized in your chest. Panic made your heart pound against your rib cage, practically screaming to be let out. You sunk in your seat. Ohgodohgodohgodohgod.

Stunna turned around and smiled at the class. When his eyes found yours, his jaw dropped and he stared. He stared and stared and you didn’t know what he was thinking or what he was going to do.

He cleared his throat and smiled at the class, introducing his real name. Not that you thought Stunna was his real name, but it was the name he usually went by. His eyes kept returning to yours.

You…slept with your college professor. Your life was over. Ruined. How the hell could you fall in love with your professor? And what the hell were you going to do now?

The Secret Big Stunna Files | Part 2 | Part 3

[blackerthings]

watching the new Aquaman movie and it's really a shame how bad Yahya is slept on.

[miyuhpapayuh]

four.

Over the past couple weeks, Zora and Leon have gone on many more dates.

He'd taken her back to the flower shop, and he actually got to pay for the pretty roses she'd picked out.

Picnics by the water, munching on fruit and watching the ducks swim in the pond, til the sun started to melt in the sky.

Drinks at Nicole’s, where Leon told her more about his past antics, and Zora shared a little bit more than she had, making him feel a little more at ease.

Now they're putting their own spin on a paint & sip, courtesy of her spacious living room and art supplies from Michaels.

“Thank god for low coffee tables, huh?” Leon says from the other side of the table, sitting with his long legs stretched out, painting a balloon flower.

He'd told her he was gonna plant some just to see if one could actually pop the petals.

“Right. Ma knew I would need it for something other than propping my feet on top,” she hums a laugh, while painting a bell flower.

Her legs are also stretched out, her bare feet just touching his sock-covered ones.

“Sorry, I'm not a wine person. A buzz ball is the only way I'll participate,” he raises his lime-rita to her strawberry-rita, a smirk on his lips.

“It's okay, like I told you, I only like white wine on occasion. This is perfect.” She replies, clinking the rounded cans together as they take a sip.

“What you paintin’ over there?”

“It's supposed to be a surprise, Leon.”

“Why?”

“Cause,” she chuckles, dipping her brush in the water mug, before dipping it back into her blue-purple mixture.

“Cause?”

“Cause I said so. That good enough?” She looks at him over her glasses, catching the goofy look on his face as he looks back at her.

“Mhm,” he nods, pursing his lips together. “Good enough.”

Carrying on painting and sipping, the pair nod along to the playlist, courtesy of Leon and his surprisingly good taste.

“I like this song.”

Blk oddysy’s funkentology bumps through the black, rectangular speaker that's sitting on the floor. Also courtesy of Leon.

“I'm glad. Sharing music can be nerve wracking.”

“Sharing can be nerve wracking.” She adds, fanning her canvas with her hand.

“Still painting over there?” She asks.

“Nah, I was waiting on you.”

“Oh, my bad. I tend to zone out a little.”

“No worries,” he shrugs. “I just hope it doesn't look like a child painted it.” He jokes.

She laughs, giving him the finger. “First and last time you'll be invited over.”

“Damn, that quick?”

“Childish, huh?” She squints, making him laugh this time.

“Touché.” He says, turning his canvas around to share his painting.

“Wow,” she admires the picture, “you've got skills!”

He chuckles, humbly thanking her with a low hanging head.

“I try, I try.”

“Let's see yours, now.” He motions toward it, catching how shaky her hand became as she lifted it from the table.

She was a little nervous to share, obviously.

Maybe a little more than usual, but she knew it was from all the words swirling around in her brain, telling her to be careful and have fun, not choose the latter just cause it's fun…

Cause fun ends.

Flipping the canvas around, she watches his eyes dart over her cluster of purple-blue bell flowers, like he's following the brushstrokes.

“Do you like it?” She asks, nervously chewing on her lip.

“Yeah, this is beautiful, Zora.” He responds, looking up at her to catch the small smile on her lips.

“Thank you. I take pride in ‘em.” She says, before sitting the canvas back on the table.

“I can tell. It shows in your work.”

“I hope so!,” she laughs, “I took an extra thirty seconds for that last flower!”

“And it was time well took! It's okay.” He joins in the laughter, making her feel better.

“Okay.” She nods, folding her hands in her lap.

“Can I ask you something?” He asks.

“You kinda already did,” she smirks, earning a playful sigh from his end.

“Alright, well my second question, smarty pants, is why are you closed off?”

“I… there hasn't been a reason for me to not be that way. Not in a while, so I'm kinda used to it… I guess.”

“Like a second nature, almost?”

“Exactly,” she replies, sighing to herself.

“You think.. I could be someone to open up to? Maybe one day?” He asks, staring right at her.

“Maybe one day,” she repeats, “if you earn it.”

“Yes ma'am.”

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The music continued on as they felt compelled to slink together and sway, their buzzes reducing them to slurred words and giggles.

“Can I ask you a question?” Zora asks, her ear still pressed against his chest.

“You kinda already did,” he mocks, earning a harmless slap on his arm.

“Of course you can. Wassup?”

“Why are you so open?”

“I wasn't always open. I actually relate to you not telling too much, a lot. Nobody's hearing what you sayin’, so why say it, right?”

“Yeah, exactly. It's like ammo for people, and they become a story to tell the next person. I'm sick of stories.” She huffs, holding him a little tighter.

He looks down at her, smiling to himself.

“But people— the right people come along, and you wanna tell stories again.. cause maybe they'll be a good story, maybe a, close that book and open a new one kind of story, ya know?” He rambles, still looking down at the top of her head.

“Yeah,” she nods. “I wanna know what it's like— I'm trying.”

“I know. You're doing better than you think.” He assures, making her look up and meet his gaze.

“Really?” She asks, the usual depth in her voice was somehow a little deeper and sweeter.

“Again, I almost forgot how to speak.” He breathily says, catching himself before he leaned in too much, even though she was fighting to meet him halfway.

“But, yeah. Much better than you think.”

“Good,” she nods, feeling the heat rush over her brown cheeks, thankful they didn't give her away so easily.

“Can I kiss you, Zora?” He asks, unable to contain himself.

She answers with a tug at his collar, pulling him down to her level to close the space between them as their lips attach to each other.

Fireworks times a million are going off in their heads, as their lips mold together perfectly. He sighs into the kiss, making her swoon hard.

Pulling away first, she takes a moment to look at him.

Him and those dark brown pools for eyes of his, so soft and inviting. And those lips! Softer than that.

“Wow,” she says, pulling him back for another kiss. Her hands find the sides of his face, as he wraps his arms around her a little tighter.

Thankfully backing into the couch as their knees began to wobble, the pair fell into a fit of laughter as they hit the cushions.

Now they're staring at each other, slightly panting as their minds race.

“What are you thinking about?” He asks.

She softly shakes her head. “I don't know. You?”

“You.” He answers.

“Me. What about me?”

“Everything. What you'll show me. What you won't.”

“I can't promise to open up right away, cause it's been a while. But I'm trying.” She repeats.

“I know.”

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“Alright, girl. What's going on?” Nique asks, as they sit at their usual spot in Nicole’s.

“So, I've been hanging out with Leon for a couple weeks now and he's making it really hard for me. I be feelin’ compelled to say more than I think I should and I just… what do I do?” Zora asks.

“You go with the flow, girl. That's all you can do.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah!” She reiterates, making Zora chuckle a bit. “I know it's not always the easiest thing to do, but there's gotta be a point where you can be comfortable enough to share and know someone won't use it against you later, and from what you're telling me, you haven't given him anything past a phone number and brief rundown of your old boos.”

“Yeah, he's been super patient and I don't wanna run him off or anything, cause I uh…” She trails off.

“What? You like him? Duh!”

She playfully rolls her eyes at her best friend.

“No— well, yeah I do like him. But, we kissed the other night and—”

“What??” She whisper-yells.

“Nique,”

“Zora!”

“Stop it!” She giggles.

“No, you stop it! How was it??”

“It was beautiful.”

“Wow,”

“That's what I said.”

“Wow, how did that happen?”

“We did our own paint ‘n sip. Sipped a little too much and ended up real close.” She sighs.

“So, that changed something.”

“Yeah, it was the way he looked at me right before he asked if he could kiss me. It was like I was bare and he could see everything I wasn't saying.”

“He asked if he could kiss you? That's so cute!” Nique squeals, and Zora let's her have her little things moment, because they do matter.

“Yeah, he's adorable. I hate to say it,” she laughs.

“Well, what are you gonna do now?”

“I don't know. I thought about getting together again and do the talking, this time. I just love to listen, ya know?”

“Well he and I agree, you've listened to enough. It's time you be the one that's being listened to. That's what you're always saying.”

“Always?”

“See, you talk so much, you don't even know how many times you repeat shit.” She cracks, earning a smack to the arm.

That's why I told ma about what you said! She's comin’ to tan that hide!”

“No!”

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Back together in his apartment this time, the pair sit closer than usual on his couch, falling into another lovely conversation.

“Tell me there's an older version of you.”

“Oh, my sisters and I are very different people,” she laughs. “I've got two older sisters.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely! Neoma is a true middle child, just wild and aloof, and Lovita, the beloved spitfire, is the oldest.”

“You're not wild, flower child?” He pokes her knee, making her laugh.

“No, you retired hoodlum!” She pokes him back in the chest, and he dramatically covers the spot, followed by an “ouch!”, as if she'd really bruised him.

“Heavy handed ass.” He laughs.

“Oh please, that was nothing.” She waves him off.

“I'm sure. So this sarcasm gene you got is one of a kind, huh?”

“Don't you think so?” She bats her lashes, just to see if it had any effect. It did.

“Yeah, you sumn else.”

“I've heard. But you can ask ‘em, they'll use any excuse to tell somebody how annoying they find it. As if I don't got my lists ready and loaded for them.” She snorts, while he shakes his head.

“Sounds like quite the trio.”

“You literally have to be there,” she adds.

And he was planning on being there, one day.

“What about you? There different versions of you out there?” She asks.

“In girl form, yes. Talk about a thorn in your side? Eryn knows all about it.”

“She's the youngest?” She asks for clarification, to which he nods.

“Five years makes a world of a difference, let me tell you.” He stresses, making her laugh.

“Aw, let her live. Twenty-five can be a tough age.”

“Was it tough for you?”

“Yeah, I went through a couple hardships— one being the ratchet ass breakup I was telling you about.” She sighs, shaking her head. “But, I made it through. Twenty-eight is hopefully gonna be a better year.”

“How's it been so far? For real.” He asks.

“It's had its moments of glory and its moments of dread, but overall it's been a good year so far. A day at a time, ya know? Maybe even a couple days at a time.” She snorts, earning a small smile in return.

“Yeah, I can definitely relate to that. A couple days at a time, for real.” He stresses, making her giggle.

“Life is ridiculous, sometimes.”

“And sometimes, it does its thing.” He notes with a raise of his brow.

“You flirtin’ with me?” She asks, squinting at him.

“Every chance I get, shorty.”

Did that earn him another juicy kiss? Maybe.

Was he grinning from ear to ear? Absolutely.

“So, how come you don't have your art in a gallery somewhere? You're super talented.” He asks.

“I think about it often, but then I second guess myself into not wanting anybody to see my work,” she sighs.

“How come?”

“I'm a perfectionist, so any mistake that I can see, I think others can too and it just makes me anxious.” She explains.

“Understandable, even though the flaws are what make every piece beautiful.”

“What are you, a walking poem?” She jokes.

He chuckles. “I'm just being real with you, Zora. I think you should really consider putting your work out there, whether it's tomorrow or ten years from now. It's too good to not share it.”

“Thanks,” she smiles, “maybe one day.”

“There you go.”

“Well, what about you?”

“What?”

“Talents. Besides being fine and a cornball, what else you got up your sleeve?”

“A cornball? You said I was funny!” He exclaims with a laugh, causing her to join in.

“You are funny.. and a cornball,” she reiterates, bursting into another fit of giggles.

“Anyway,” he thumps her thigh, “I write sometimes, which is probably why you think I'm a walking poem.”

“Really?? Oh, that's so cool, and it makes so much sense.”

“Does it?”

“Yep, all the dots are connecting.” She grins.

“Keeps me grounded, ya know?”

“Yeah,” she nods, “so when are you gonna share a piece with me?”

“Soon.” He smirks.

Might be my favorite chapter 🤭💜 they're just so so!!

Ch 5

@thegifstories @sheabuttahwrites @nayaxwrites @soufcakmistress @ghostfacekill-monger @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @blackerthings @blowmymbackout @blackpinup22 @henneseyhoe @awerkofart @abeautifulmindexposed @twistedcharismaaa

[jennrypan]

Watched Aquaman 2 and it was..okay, not the worst hero film but I'm glad I didn't pay for it but also.

YAHYA IS SO FUCKING FINE!!! WHY IS NO ONE OBSESSING OVER HIM!! Him pining that scientist to the wall with his knife was sexy as hell!!

He could do whatever he wants and I'd thank him for it!!

God. Yall going crazy over Orm when David is ALSO THERE. Yall failed me.

I wanna chew on him like a candy, I wanna be his loyal evil hench men 😩

[xo-tough-love-xo]

That show and giffing black panther or anything black gets these likes from people so basically almost need to stop making and you can keep looking at your white movies and white actors being giffed all the time on here. The reblog to like ratio on stuff jus getting worse every year since this is about to be text post site and Instagram site

[berberriescorner]

Nobody's Gonna Know

(Part Two)

Characters: Yahya Abdul-Mateen II as himself x Black!reader (woc!reader), Michael B. Jordan as himself (appearance), and Kiana Ledé as “Jerrika” (appearance).

Summary: What happens when you realize what you’ve always wanted was right in front of your face the entire time?

Warnings: Profanity, daddy kink (you’re not surprised), smut, mentions of violence, drinking, and did I mention smut already😈?

Word Count: (Part Two) 4800+.

Inspired By:

The sound of his phone snapped Yahya out of the flashback. A smile crept across his face as he swiped to answer.

“Ain’t been gone but a minute. You missing daddy already, love?”

“You’re so annoying. I was calling to let you know I made it home safely.”

“Thank you, love. I wished you could’ve stayed one more night,” his tone was affectionate and sensual.

Yahya always made his words sound both rugged and soft with you. It was both erotic and sinfully sweet, causing butterflies to flutter inside you.

“You still there, mama?”

You cleared your throat, trying to hide that his voice was affecting you. Changing the subject, you continued, “There’s a kickback Friday. It’s at my sis’ house. You're coming, right?”

He smiled to himself, knowing he made you feel some type of way. In a raspy voice, he asked, “That depends. Are you staying the night afterward?”

“I’ll meet you at your house later in the night.”

“Why not just arrive and leave with me? Nobody’s going to suspect anything.”

“I would, but she invited Michael. He’s asked me to ride with him.”

“Oh, I see.”

“Are you mad? I can call back and make up an excuse.”

“That’s okay, love,” he answered in a curt tone.

“Doesn’t sound like it-.”

“I’m good. Listen, I got a few things to handle. I’ll hit you back later.”

Yahya ended the call, not giving you a chance to respond.

This shit ends Friday. I know just how to make him go ghost. I’m done playing games with this woman.

He scrolled through his contacts, tapping the name he was searching for. The phone trilled twice before he heard the familiar voice. Making small talk, Yahya waited for the perfect moment to put his plan in motion.

“Hey, Jerrika. How’s it going?

“Oh, yeah? That’s wassup. Listen, I was wondering. Do you have plans for Friday night?”

“Perfect. Be ready by eight. I want you to ride to this kickback with me.”

Yahya made more small talk, and she told him what she had been up to lately. As he listened, a twinge of guilt pulsed through his chest. His mind was riddled with second thoughts. Using her this way made him feel a bit guilty. He wanted to be truthful with Jerrika. Interrupting her mid-sentence, he explained his intentions for Friday night's kickback. To his surprise, she appreciated his honesty. Jerrika wasn’t shocked-they had known each other awhile. She had an inkling Yahya was attracted to his best friend. Not only was she aware of his feelings. Jerrika offered to help out in any way she could. Yahya spent a few more moments on the phone discussing the plan.

Lying in bed, he stared at the ceiling, hands folded behind his head. Thoughts racing through his head, he contemplated whether his plan would help or hurt things. He cleared his mind and closed his eyes, trying to fall asleep. Yahya’s phone dinged right as he started to nod off. Groaning, he snatched it from the nightstand. You had texted, “Not you hanging up on me mid-sentence. Goodnight to you too, mean ass.” Truthfully, he felt like a dick for abruptly ending the call. Also, for what he was about to pull Friday night. It felt like his only option that would give you the push needed. He quickly texted you back, “I’m sorry, mama. I promise to hit you first thing in the morning. Goodnight, love.”

Friday had come around much quicker than you anticipated. Your sis had hit you up early that morning. She begged for you to arrive several hours early to help set up. Being a helpful and dependable best friend, the request was granted. However, twenty minutes after your arrival, you started to regret it. 

The two of you hadn’t seen each other for a while. You were greeted with a lecture about not making time for girl's night lately. According to the crew, you had been neglecting your homegirls and spending too much time with your sneaky link. Defending yourself, you brought up the numerous times they brushed you aside for their new flavor of the month. To which they did not argue and immediately forgave you.

Believing you were off the hook, your best friend put you on the spot again. She grinned at you mischievously, “We cracked the case, sis.”

With a confused expression, you responded, “What the hell are you going on about?”

“Bitch, don’t play stupid.”

“I honestly have no clue what you’re talking about, sis.”

“We figured out who sneaky link is,” she smirked at you. “It’s about time you two dumbasses got together.”

You started to deny it, “What are you talking about-.”

“We know you and Yahya have been fucking around. Which one of your horny asses gave in first?”

You busied yourself with setting up the bar as you ignored her question. Snatching the liquor bottles and setting them down, your best friend crossed her arms, waiting for you to confess. Her foot tapped against the floor as the rest of your friends cocked their heads to the side. Rolling your eyes at the group of nosey ass women, you asked, “What makes you all think it’s Yahya?”

Each woman smirked at you until your best friend piped up, “If you're going to keep it low-key, don’t make a sound in your sexcapades while recording. Also, make sure your friends don’t know or follow him on social media.” 

Fucking Yahya and his pornographic IG story.

“Oh, it wasn’t just his mini-sex vid. I kick it with his homie. That little pic you posted? Yahya canceled plans with them that night. Naturally, he came to dick me down when plans fell through. I mentioned the pic, and we put two and two together.”

“Whatever, nosey ass Heffa. It’s not even that deep. We fuck around occasionally,” you snarked, rolling your neck.

“On occasion, my ass. You’ve been getting dicked down on the regular. None of us make it a habit to sleep with multiple people. Therefore that is a consistent dick down, and you know it.”

“Who else knows about us?”

“Pretty much anyone who knows what you sound like when you moan. Given that we were all roommates at one time, we, unfortunately, know what that shit sounds like. Your ass never could keep it down. Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with us,” she smirked.

“You bitches get on my nerves. I’m going home to finish getting ready.”

“Don’t leave mad, best friend! We’re honestly happy you two came to your senses. Finally locked his fine ass down.”

“One, I’m not mad. Two, he’s not my man. We fuck. That’s it.”

Your friends gave each other a knowing look, irritating you further. You snatched your keys from the Louis Vuitton handbag. “I gotta go for real. I need to be ready by the time Michael picks me up.” A multitude of gasps sounded in the room. Rolling your eyes, you braced yourself for more unwanted opinions.

“Does Yah’ know you’re rolling with Mike tonight?”

“Yes,” you answered exhaustedly.

“And he’s okay with that?”

“What part of that’s not my man do you all not understand? Besides, Michael and I are just friends. Yahya knows that. He doesn’t believe it, but that’s not my problem.”

Is that a little petty? Maybe, but I don’t want Michael, honestly. We’re just friends.  If he expects more, he’s in for a rude awakening. It’s not like Yah’s not out here, entertaining bitches. I’m not falling for the bullshit with any more men. Best friend or not, men lie all the time…okay maybe that’s not fair. I need to work on trusting men again. On second thought, no, fuck that shit. Single is the best way to be. No games. No lies. No cheating. No heartbreak. I just need that superb dick and toe-curling head.

The sound of fingers snapping in your face pulled you from your thoughts.

“You not even listening to us. Girl, stop lying to yourself and give that man a chance. Yahya’s not like your past relationships. He cares for you.”

“It always starts that way. I’m good with being what we are.”

Before she could continue to chastise you for being scared, you dipped out.

The evening was already turning sour. Sitting on your best friend's couch, you watched as Michael made small talk with a mutual friend. His eyes scanned the room, landing on you as he bit his lip, giving you a seductive smile. One of your girls nudged you, “ I saw that face you made when he looked away. Are you two into it? Or are you still mad that we got all in your business earlier? 

“I’m fine,” you lied.

She looked at you, not believing a word you said. It wasn’t just the man that had accompanied you to the party. Though that was where most of your frustration came from, you were also irritated that Yahya hadn’t shown up yet. His text throughout the week had been short and sweet. You were starting to feel like he was avoiding you.

“Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you? Or am I going to have to force it out of you?”

Sighing loudly, you started, “While I didn’t appreciate being interrogated earlier, that isn’t my issue.”

“Bitch! Just tell me why you have a stank-ass attitude,” she teased.

“I would if your rude ass would stop interrupting me,” you shot back. “I think I pissed Yah’ off. We had a conversation Sunday night. I mentioned the kickback, and he offered to come and leave together. He started acting weird when I told him Michael had already asked me to ride with him. I don’t understand why he’s angry. I told Yahya we’re just friends. That I’d slide through afterward.”

“Your green ass. It doesn’t matter what you say. Though you’re not interested, I’m sure Yah’ knows Mike wants to knock you down…real bad.”

“Trust me, that’s abundantly clear now. Michael’s not getting one ounce of this pussy. He’s about to find that shit out real quick. This ninja kept trying to rub my thighs on the ride over here. I had to cross my damn legs just to get him off me.”

Just as your friend was about to respond, she gasped. You nearly caught whiplash, turning to stare in the same direction.

“What’s wrong with your dramatic ass-.”

Glancing toward the entrance, you saw the person you’d been searching for all evening. The fact that he wasn’t alone sent a tiny sliver of jealousy through your body. Shaking it off, you rationalize internally, “Chill, sis. That’s not your man. That could be just a friend.” It did very little to tamp down the mild bout of jealousy.

You will not be petty and use Mike to make him angry. That thought was stomped out as his guest turned, and you got a look at who she was. This is why I’m single. Friend my ass. You chuckled bitterly as Yahya and his company made their way over to you. Are they holding hands? Oh, okay. Bet it the fuck up! Don’t give him a reaction.  They’re all the same.  Fine ass. Lyin’ ass ninja. Yahya greeted you and your friend as you gave him an expressionless stare. Introductions were short and sweet, excusing yourself after. Though he had irritated you, Michael called you over at the right time. You could feel Yahya’s eyes boring into your back as you crossed the room.

Being bold and not taking the hint from earlier, he slipped his arm around your waist, tugging you closer. As he attempted to whisper sweet nothings in your ear, you made eye contact with Yahya. You watched as his jaw ticked, and he draped his arm around Jerrika, pulling her closer to his side. Her hand slid down from his chest and rested on the abs you had traced with your tongue just last weekend. Yahya watched as your eyes narrowed at the gesture and smirked at you. His face fell as he watched Michael kiss your cheek. The look of disappointment was enough for you to step away from Michael. “I have to go check on the bar, be right back.” It was enough to keep him from questioning why you removed yourself from him.

Quickly glancing over the bar, you made a beeline for the kitchen. All you wanted was time to pull it together and gather your thoughts. Yahya, however, had other plans. He stood at the kitchen entrance, fixing you with an angry stare. Crossing your arms, you returned his glare.

“What,” you spat, rolling your eyes.

Yahya’s head leaned back, “You and your boyfriend looking real cozy out there.”

You laughed bitterly, “Says the one that’s here with the woman that he claims he’s no longer fucking. Is that not what you told me last weekend, friend? The audacity to have the very bitch you say you don’t want all in my face.”

“I didn’t lie. I’m no longer sleeping with her. You came with a friend. I figured I could bring one as well.”

“Difference is I haven’t had sexual relations with my friend. Can you say the same,” you questioned.

“Whatever, man. You’re tripping.”

“Be honest with me, Yah’. Are you still sleeping with Jerrika?”

“I just watched that thirsty ass dude damn near suck on your neck, and you’re seriously sitting here questioning my loyalty? You keep accusing me of shit. It’s making me wonder if that’s due to a guilty conscience. Why trip? We’re not together, remember?”

“That’s what this about? A fucking title? How many times do I have to say it, Yahya? I don’t fucking want-.”

Your sentence came to a halt as Jerrika stepped into the kitchen.

“Pardon me for interrupting, but could you show me where the bathroom is?”

Feeling slightly guilty for stealing Yahya’s attention, you offered, “This my sis’ house. I’ll show you.”

Jerrika winked at Yahya and turned to follow you out of the kitchen. That looks like a disaster waiting to happen. He wondered if it was wise to leave you and his date unattended. Just as he was about to go and check on the two of you, Michael entered the room.

“Ay, bro. Where’s your sis at,” he asked, referring to you.

Through clenched teeth, Yahya answered, “More like a best friend. I know things about her that siblings wouldn’t share,” he smirked at the expression on Michael’s face. “She’s showing Jerrika where the bathroom is. They’ll be back shortly.”

“You make a good point. Maybe you could give me some advice on her. Maybe put in a good word for me?”

The look that crossed Michael’s face made Yahya feel uneasy. Stepping closer, he lowered his voice,  not wanting anyone to hear.

“You saw that picture she posted of whoever it was between her thighs?”

Yahya chuckled knowingly, “Oh yeah. I saw that post. She seemed to enjoy herself that night,” he smiled at Michael’s cluelessness.

“That’s what I’m saying. You’re her best friend. Put me on, bro. I’m trying to take her thick ass down.”

“She posted up with another dude, and you’re still trying to slide? I don’t think she gets down like that.”

“If I manage to steal his shortie, that’s his problem,” Michael boasted.

“So you think my friend bounces from dude to dude? Watch your mouth, little nigga. You don’t know her like that to be making assumptions,” Yahya barked, approaching Michael aggressively.

“Chill, bro. No disrespect-.”

You and Jerrika had entered the kitchen as things had started to get heated between Michael and Yahya. Trading a knowing glance with your best friend's date, the both of you got in between the two of them.

“What’s going on? Calm down,” you soothed Yahya as you unknowingly rubbed his arm. Jerrika tugged Michael backward as well. Not wanting to ruin your evening, Yahya lied, “We’re just having a debate about sports. You know how passionate I can get, love.”

He didn’t want to spend another minute in Michael’s presence. Turning to Jerrika, Yahya placed a hand on her back. 

“Let’s go get you that drink you asked for earlier.”

As they walked past Michael, he leaned in, mumbling something.

“Good luck trying to fill her man’s shoes. Bro pretty much got her locked down. She just doesn’t know it yet.”

You watched as he guided her to the bar, hand placed above her ass. There goes that damn jealousy. Get it together, bitch. It’s just a sneaky link. Michael interrupted your thoughts yet again. “Come on, beautiful. Let’s rejoin the party.” His hand cupped your side as he guided you toward the music. The song changed, and Michael wrapped his arms around your waist.

“This my shit,” he groaned in your ear.

He pulled you closer, singing the words against your neck. The irritation for this man grew stronger with every unwanted advance he gave. 

His thirsty ass is getting on my damn nerves. I’m deleting this man from everything as soon as I get to Yah’s. If I’m even still invited. That’s right. I still want the dick. Thirsty hoes be damned. 

Michael's hand groped your thighs as he pressed up against you. You started to push his hands away and check him but felt fingers wrap around your wrist. With one strong tug, your steps fumbled behind a very pissed-off Yahya. Your mind hadn’t fully finished processing what was happening. It wasn’t until after he yanked you into a guest bathroom, closing and locking the door, that you started to catch on. Yahya pressed you against the door as his hand circled your throat. Wild eyes bore into yours as his chest heaved. He took a few moments to inhale and exhale.

“I don’t give a fuck what we are. He’s done touching you from this point on,” he said in a low and gravelly voice.

“Yah-.”

“I’m serious, Y/N. Whatever the fuck you two got going on. It’s done.”

“Last I checked, you’re not my father, and I barely listen to him anyway. Worry about what the hell you got going on with Jamaica.”

“You know that’s not her name,” he smirked.

“Whatever that hoe’s name is. Worry about what she got going on. Not me.”

“Your stubborn ass. You know damn well I brought that girl just to piss you off. It’s clear that it worked.”

“I’m not the one that got jealous and snatched you up like a rag doll.”

“Fine. I have no issue admitting I’m jealous. I want you, mama. All to myself.”

“You have me, Yah’. I told you I don’t want him, and I’m not sleeping with anyone else.”

“Let me be clear. I want you, all of you. Give me a chance, mama. I’m not all those other men that fumbled your pretty ass. Tell me that’s not what you want. Look me in my eyes and say it.”

“What’s wrong with the way things are?”

“What the fuck are you scared of? You can’t honestly sit there and tell me you don’t want the same. If that’s the case, you wouldn’t be salty over Jerrika.”

Yahya was right, but you kept letting your fear of another heartbreak cloud your judgment. You attempted to deflect.

“We’re being rude to our guests. Let’s go back to the party and finish this discussion later.”

“No, that shit’s out the window. You’re not going back out there so he can feel all on you. I told him you were dealing with someone. I even wished him good luck at trying to steal you for himself. It looks like I have to let him know what the fuck is up.”

“What does that even mean-.”

His hand circled your neck again. Pushing you back against the door, Yahya’s mouth clashed with yours hungrily. There was no sense in fighting it. Your body had been yearning for his attention all night. You felt him bend forward into the kiss, his hands reaching to hoist you up. Thick thighs locked around his waist as he ground against you. The back of your head fell against the door whimpering as Yahya’s lips trailed from your neck to the top of your breast. His tongue made contact with your skin, teeth nipping at the exposed flesh.

He groaned against your soft skin, “You wear this sexy little dress for me? Or your boyfriend?”

“Fuck you, Yah’,” you moaned.

“Oh, I plan to, baby.”

Yahya continued to lick and suck at the tops of your breast as his free hand snaked underneath the hem of your dress. A guttural groan vibrated against the bathroom walls as he felt your bare, wet, silky flesh.

“You’ve been hanging around with that dumbass with no fucking panties on,” he growled.

“Yes, but I didn’t do this for him. At the last minute, I made up my mind that I wanted to leave with you. I did this for you, baby.”

“That’s what the fuck I thought.”

The most erotic moan fell from your lips as two fingers dove into your slick heat. You started to ride his fingers, crying out, “Yes! Baby.” 

Yahya sucked, nibbled, and groaned against your throat. “That’s it, mama. Let them hear you. I know you can be louder than that.” 

His fingers sped up, scissoring in and out of your dripping folds. The feeling became too much as your core started to tighten. He could feel your muscles squeezing around his digits. 

“That’s it, love. Let go. Come all over Daddy’s fingers.” He pushed deep enough, tapping your spot.

 “Oh, f-fuck. Yahya!”

Still pumping his long digits slowly, he watched you ride out your high. He whispered sweet praise into your ear, “That’s a good girl. You did good, baby.”

Slowly sliding his fingers from inside you, he licked his fingers clean. You watched in awe as your tongue slid across your bottom lip. He smirked, knowing your freaky ass wanted a taste. Cupping your chin, Yahya pulled you in for a sloppy kiss. Your tongues wrestled for control as your hands undid his belt. Yahya pulled back, smiling, “Here?”

“I can’t wait until we get home. I want you now.”

He watched you unbutton and unzip his jeans, using both hands to push his pants and underwear down. Yahya scrunched your dress around your waist as he lined up with your entrance. He slid the tip in, pausing afterward. Your eyes narrowed, “stop fucking teasing me.”

“I’ll give you this dick now, but you better not hold back. Your better scream my fucking name like you do when we’re alone. Let that little bitch out there know who owns this pussy.”

You gave him a frantic nod thrusting your hips, trying to slide lower onto his throbbing member. A whine echoed as he slapped your thigh, “I’m running this shit, brat.” Your mouth opened to respond sarcastically, but Yahya slammed inside you, leaving you breathless.

“Thought that would shut your ass up,” he growled.

Yahya thrust deeper and deeper, causing your eyes to roll back. He angled you to where his pulsing rod tapped against that special little sponge. Your heels dug against him, and your nails scratched at his back. You skyrocketed toward a release, crying out his name repetitively.

“Yahya, yes! Yahya, please! Daddy,” you screamed, shaking violently.

He slowed his strokes long enough to bring you back down again. Pushing at his shoulder, you signaled that you wanted down. Yahya assumed you couldn’t take anymore and placed you on your feet. He held onto your waist to help you regain composure. Once you were stable, he reached for his zipper, but you stopped him.

“Wait, baby.”

Yahya looked puzzled. That was until your hands pressed into his chest, shoving him against the door. Dropping to your knees, he started to understand what you meant. Your glossy lips brushed against the tip of his thick member. His breath hitched as you licked around it. Your hands rested on his thighs as you took every inch down your throat.

Yahya’s groan reverberated throughout the room, “Got damn. Fuck, just like that, mama.” You hummed around his dick, forcing another growl from him. No longer able to control himself, Yahya gave in to his animalistic needs. His hands dug into your hair as Yahya pistoned against the back of your throat. The more you gagged around him, the closer he came to a release. One hand trailed from his thigh down to cup his balls. Massaging them, Yahya fucked your throat faster.

“Fuck, mama. I’m about to bust.”

Knowing how to send him over the edge, you hummed around his length. His hips stuttered a few times as he called out your name, sending his release down your throat. He plucked you from the floor, shoving his tongue into your mouth.

“Get dressed. I’m taking your fine ass home,” he demanded, smacking your behind.

Thankful for your richly melanated skin, you could hide a blush as the two of you rejoined the group. It was evident that everyone had heard the two of you. Your friends looked at you with knowing looks. Even Jerrika was smirking at the pair of you. The only person who seemed to be bothered was, of course, Michael. Not knowing what to say, Yahya stepped in, announcing your goodbyes. He dragged you toward a smiling Jerrika.

“I’m good, Yahya. I can catch a ride with someone or Uber. You wore that poor woman out in a packed party. Take your lady home.”

“Wait, you know about us,” you questioned his date.

“Sorry boo, I was in on this whole, make her jealous scheme,” she giggled.

“I should be mad at you two, but it did give me the push I needed. I guess he’s my man now, or whatever.”

“Took your ass long enough.”

“Not too much on me. I got trust issues. You know that.”

Yahya pulled you into his side as you made your exit. Unable to help himself, he made a stop on the way out.

“Alright now, be easy, bro. Don’t worry about driving her home tonight. Daddy got her,” he smiled cockily at the pissed look on Michael’s face.

“Don’t be upset, bro. I told you, baby girl had a man.”

“That’s cool. I’m not really into hoes anyway.”

The room went eerily silent. You tugged at Yahya’s hand, begging him to ignore him.

“He’s just trying to get a rise out of you, Yah’. Just come with me, please. He’s not worth it.”

You had almost convinced him to turn the other cheek, but Michael added fuel to the fire.

“That’s right. Listen to your loose ass bitch.”

Acting quickly, you stepped between the two men.

“I got this, Yahya.”

He was aware that you were a little spitfire. Curiosity got the best of him, so he obliged, stepping back to let you handle your shit like a grown-ass woman. Spinning on your heels, you tilted your head back to look Michael in the eyes.

“You thought you ate with that, huh?”

He smirked, shrugging his shoulders. Proud of calling a woman out her name not once but twice. Stepping closer, your voice filled with venom.

“Stop pretending in front of all these folks, Mike. I was never giving a weak-ass man such as yourself a chance. I don’t know why your pride is so hurt. I’ve told you several times that this wasn’t going beyond friendship. What? You send me dick pics, and you think I’m trying to take that shit for a ride? What good is all that penis if you don’t know how to work it? That’s right, boo. The ladies have been talking. The word around town is your stroke game’s weak as fuck. I wouldn’t even let you get a lick, let alone fuck you.”

He sat there embarrassed and stunned by what you revealed to the room. Trying to save face, he made one last attempt to bring you down.

“Nobody checking for that fat ass bitch anyway.”

His hand slipped from your grasp before you could stop him. Yahya stomped over to Michael, sending one hard blow to his face. With just one punch, he knocked him out cold. Making his way back to you, Yahya grabbed your hand, kissing it.

“It had to happen, mama. My mouth will make it up to you when we get home," he pecked your lips, tugging you out the door, to his vehicle.

Yahya leaned in, breath fanning against your neck. His hand reached across your lap, clasping you into the seatbelt. Yahya playfully bit your jaw, grazing your breast as he pulled away. As he started to close your door, he rasped, "You might want to take a nap on the way home. I'm about to have you wrapped around me all night. In more ways than one."

I honestly don't know where all this came from. My imagination just ran with it and made a movie😂. Hopefully, you all enjoyed it as much as I did writing it💕. Feedback and reblogs are very much appreciated. Enjoy the rest of your day, lovelies!

Gif Credit: @abdulmateens, thanks again for allowing me to use it for my mood board💗.

Divider Credit: @firefly-graphics.

Tagging a few lovelies:

@sheabuttahwrites , @moebuttta , @darqchilddaydreamz

@alertyoulikeitsamber , @astoldbychae , @miyuhpapayuh

@sunshine-flower , @nightlywords7 , @4everbrookemarie

@delta7of96 , @novaniskye , @1andonlytashae

@shaolyninferno , @mcdesij , @willadean

@partygetsmewetter-x , @blackerthings , @peachbuttetfly

@theraieinfluence , @honestpreference , @queeniekiy

@tashawar , @skyesthebomb , @captainwithoutmakingitlove

[henneseyhoe]

MASTERLIST

( smut= R , angst= ~ , fluff= +)

MICHAEL B. JORDAN

Unexpected Expected Guest (R) (Halloween special)

P POWER (R)

Erik takes readers virginity (R)

KILLA HOTLINE | CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO

NEW RULES (~)

Adonis being clingy with his wife and new baby (+)

My Big Three As Boyfriends (+)

The Return Of Killjoy (R) (Halloween Special)

YAHYA ABDUL MATEEN II

Interrupted quickie (R+)

“Tell daddy you sorry”(request) (R)

My Big Three As Boyfriends (+)

TREVANTE RHODES

WORKOUT (R)

Country lovin’ | Teaser | intro | Cookin’ Soul | Trial And Error (R)(~)(+)

My Big Three As Boyfriends (+)

SMILE FOR ME, DADDY | BEDROOM BULLY (R)

NSFW ALPHABET (R)

KOFI SIRIBOE

USE ME (R)

GREG TARZAN DAVIS

Pillow Talk (+)

KEITH POWERS

You deserve it (R)

DAMSON IDRIS

Next lifetime (request) (R)(~)

JOHN BOYEGA

Freaky Girl (R)

Blurb. (R)

Still Mine. (R)

JOEY BADA$$

THROW AWAY (R~)

Milk Marie (R)

LEWIS HAMILTON

Daddy’s Money (R)

✮OTHERS✮

⭣

LAMELO BALL

Creepin’ (R)

CLOSER (R)

✮

OCs

I think she like me. (R)

Muse (R)

More coming soon…<3

[megamindsecretlair]

Runaway Lover, Part 2

Pairing: Professor!Big Stunna x Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. SMUT. ANGST. PWP, cursing, PIV, oral (female receiving) teasing/mocking, size kink, dirty talk, praise kink, possession kink, all consensual. Power imbalance.

Summary: After learning that Stunna is your teacher, you must drop the class. When you're unable to, you try to break things off with Stunna. Only it doesn't go so well.

Word Count: 6,067k

Part 1 | Part 3

A/N: Everybody say thank you @melaninpov. The responses to this fic was overwhelming! I love ya'll so much! Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!

Taglist: @planetblaque @blackerthings @browngirldominion @we-outsiiiide @thecookiebratz @iv0rysoap @notapradagurl7 @sevikasblackgf @miyuhpapayuh @xo-goldengirl @kindofaintrovert @flydotty @judymfmoody @slippinninque @soufcakmistress @henneseyhoe @westside-rot @melaninpov @twocentuar @blackpinup22 @babybratzmaraj @theyscreamsannii @kiabialia @thedonsfactory @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @nworbaij @hopefulromantic1 @lesbiantreehugger @longpause-awkwardsmile @badassdoll @kholdkill @blackpinup22 @cardi-bre91 @blowmymbackout @jay-mach @sageispunk @yourofficialgal

You wanted to throw up. You wanted to disappear. You wanted to jump out of your skin and never look back. 

To his credit, Stunna - you refused to call him by his real name - continued on with his spiel, effectively ignoring you. The only thing you could think of was how good he felt. How good he smelled. Those sweet and filthy words he whispered in your ear while he was playing with your pussy. While he owned you. While he seemed to reach inside you and yank out your soul. He stole the damn thing back in Punta Cana and now here he was. In your city. In your school. 

Your anxiety twisted your gut into painful knots that no amount of breathing exercises could fix. You felt as if you had a scarlet letter on your chest. Could anyone tell? Would anyone know? 

You tried to cast your eyes around the room, but there were only the bored looks on everyone’s faces. There were some people checking him out. You didn’t blame them. The man was gorgeous. And the chocolate outfit was so sexy against his dark skin. You wished he was wearing his grills as well. That would ruin you.

You slumped in your seat and looked everywhere but at him. You needed to drop this class. You needed to escape. There was no way that you could spend the next four months staring at that piece of art and not fail the class. Or want to leap over everyone and jump his bones.

You knew what those hands could do. You knew what filthy images he could conjure with his mouth. His deep voice was sinful and you spent a glorious Saturday getting to listen to him speak, laugh, or tell jokes. 

You couldn’t do this. But fear kept you glued to your seat. You could not get up in front of everyone and walk out where everyone could see. And what would Stunna do? Ignore you? Chastise you? Tell you sit your ass back down?

There was only so much he could do without turning awareness to the fact that you knew each other already. The last thing you could afford was a scandal. You’d end up in a newspaper somewhere. Or worse. On the news. You pictured them finding an embarrassing photo of you from the gram and blasting it nationwide. 

The headlines would write themselves. No. You did not need that type of negativity and you were not prepared to do that to Stunna either. So you endured. You waited. You avoided looking at him but you couldn’t close your ears.

You focused on breathing. You daydreamed. You did anything you could not to focus on how those pants fit his long frame. His ass looked magnificent. The sleeves of his sweater were rolled up to reveal his forearms. 

His eyes caught you staring and he fumbled in his speech. He recovered quickly, going over his syllabus for the class. How it was important to show up because he was the type to challenge thinking. He wasn’t going to be a stuffy professor, or at least he wouldn’t try to be. 

You heard a soft sigh to your left. You turned to the sound. There was a woman next to you with pale skin and strawberry blonde hair. She looked at Stunna as if he hung the moon. 

You didn’t blame her but there was a surge of jealousy. You wanted to tell her to look somewhere else because he was fucking taken. The realization that he did not belong to you was like a bucket of ice water down your back. You turned your attention back to Stunna as he told everyone to introduce themselves.

You fought off a groan. If possible, you would sink further into your seat. You hated when professors did this type of shit. Couldn’t they get to know people some other way? In this day and age of technology, how hard was it to print pictures and names and study it like they made students study for an exam? 

Stunna parked his sexy ass on the edge of the desk in the corner of the room. He had an iPad in his hand and he seemed to be jotting notes after each student said their name and a hobby of theirs. 

When it was your turn, Stunna said your name. You took a deep breath and recited your name. You drew a blank on any and all hobbies you ever partook in. “I like to travel,” you finally said. 

Stunna smirked and nodded. “Any interesting places?” He asked.

You bit the inside of your cheek. “I just came back from the DR, actually,” you said.

Stunna nodded. “Very cool! Now, let’s see…” He looked down at his iPad and called the next person but he still had that smirk on his face. You needed to get out. You needed away. He could not make light of the fact that you knew each other. Knowing fuck well it could jeopardize not only you, but his teaching credentials.

Soulmate or not, you were not going to let him throw away his career. The rest of the class went by while you slowly died inside. Stunna introduced some of the books he wanted to read and discuss for the next few months.

As soon as he dismissed the class, you were the first one out of the door. You didn’t think he tried to call after you, but you didn’t give him the chance to. You flew out of the classroom, out of the building, and made a beeline towards the Admin building.

You ran up the steps, lungs burning as you raced across campus. You had a runaway thought that life didn’t seem quite so dull considering that Stunna was in your neck of the woods. But you squashed that. Nothing could happen as long as he was your teacher.

You went up the elevator and got off on the floor with your academic counselor. You made it to his office and knocked on the door. Mr. Sullivan pushed his glasses from his face and looked up with a smile. He was a sweet, if aloof, man who seemed to phone in his work rather than take any joy in it. 

“How is the first day of classes?” He asked. He smiled politely, but there was a look in his eye as if he was trying to place you. 

“I need to drop a class. Or get a different class?” You sat down in front of Mr. Sullivan’s desk and clutched your backpack to your chest. You didn’t want to look at your phone. You didn’t want to see missed calls or texts from Stunna.  There was nothing to discuss until you had all your cards on the table. 

Mr. Sullivan’s thick eyebrows drew down as he woke up his ancient computer. He typed around and hummed as he did so. Your leg bounced a mile a minute as he looked up something on it.

“Forgive me, what’s your name and student number?” 

You told him, repeating it over and over because you were talking too fast for him. Once he got your information, he was back to humming as he searched. “Now, which class do you need to drop?” 

You rolled your neck and told him, again, what you needed done. He nodded and went back to clicking around. There couldn’t be that many literature classes at this fucking school. 

“Oh, dear,” he said.

“What does that mean?” You asked. You chewed on your bottom lip. You fought everything in here to jump over the desk and use his computer to drop the class. 

Mr. Sullivan shook his head. “I’m afraid it’s too late to drop the class,” he said.

“What? What about the first week's grace period?” 

“Usually, yes, you would have the option to switch classes. In your case, however, every literature class at your level is currently full. Perhaps you can check back in at the end of the week and see who starts switching around. Although, you do need this class in order to qualify for your major. I would not suggest dropping it and trying to make it up next year. Six classes are difficult for any student…”

He began to drone on and on about preventing burn out, protecting mental health, whatever else his nasally voice could conjure up. You tuned him out as his words replayed over and over. You were stuck with the class. Or you’d have to try and take six next semester. You could do it, you had no doubt about it. But you shouldn’t have to.

Your last year was your last hurrah before you had to think about what you wanted to do with your major. If you wanted to do grad school or not. You could do a summer class but now was the time to think about internships. 

You sighed and sat back in your seat. Hope was cruel. Hope was spiteful and evil. You had your hopes up that Mr. Sullivan would be able to help you but he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t save you. 

The melancholy this time around sat on you like a ton of bricks. You hadn’t expected to find Stunna on your trip. You hadn’t expected to fall so fast for him. You had your entire life to find someone, true, but you already found your perfect person. Written in the stars for you. Made for you. And now this.

“Now of course, there are some classes offered in the summer for a summer term. But…”

“That’s alright, Mr. Sullivan. I’ll stay in this one. Thanks,” you murmured. You left his office, let the next kid come in and bug the old man, as you left the Admin building. This shit fucking sucked. 

You finally fished your phone out of your pocket. As expected, there were missed calls and desperate texts from Stunna.

Stunna: Please, talk to me.

Stunna: Please

Stunna: I didn’t know! We never talked about it.

Stunna: At least let me know you’re alive??

Each text hurt your heart worse. You could feel his desperation, no matter how far apart you were physically. It felt as if his heart was calling towards yours. Connected on some plane you couldn’t see. The last text from him was an address. 

Stunna: Please, meet me tonight. Just to talk.

Yeah, right. If you went to his place tonight, you’d do more than talk. Your attraction to him was that strong. That powerful. You knew you needed to talk to him if you were going to stay in his class. You were both adults. You could keep your hands off of each other, right? 

Later that night, you met up with Angela and Stella back in the dorm you all shared. They could tell that something was wrong with you but you couldn’t begin to describe it. Every time you tried, the words dried in your throat. Wilting like old flowers. 

“Girl, damn. What happened between you and that guy?” Stella asked.

“Did he hurt you?” Angela asked right after. 

“It’s fine,” you said. Your leg was back to bouncing. Despite your earlier protests, you needed to talk to Stunna. Meeting at his place wasn’t the smartest move. But what was the alternative? Anywhere you met publicly, you worried that anyone would read it all over your face. You’d be just as obsessed as the girl in your class. 

“It’s not fine. If he hurt you, run me his name. I’d beat that mu’fucka up!” Stella said. She held up her tiny fists and shadowboxed in the living room. 

You giggled and shook your head. “I promise he didn’t hurt me. He was the perfect gentleman,” you said. Even while he was in your guts, he was still sweet afterwards. He knew exactly what you needed.

“Then what the hell is going on?” Angela asked.

“Right? I feel like we should have told her to look the other way,” Stella said.

“How could we? That man was so damn fine!” Angela said.

“All of them were! Like where the hell they grow them at?” 

The sisters went back and forth talking about Stunna and his friends. They were right. All of them were fine. But Stunna was different. Smooth skin, neat beard. Tall as a tree. He checked every last one of your boxes. Smart, funny, cultured, traveled, well read. 

You were in trouble. You were standing on the train tracks watching the train approach with lights on, horn blaring, and you couldn’t make yourself move. Didn’t want to move, truth be told.

The time to meet Stunna grew closer. You felt it like the swing of a pendulum. You kept checking your phone. You hadn’t answered Stunna and he hadn’t sent anything else after his address and plea for you to come over. 

Before it got too late, you told the sisters that you would go to the library to see if they had the books you needed for class. Anything to avoid having to go to the student store to purchase the books you’d only need once. They continued to talk and watch TV, content to still recover from the trip.

You went to your room, closed the door, and let the panic overtake you. You tore through your closet trying to find an outfit that screamed that this was casual. You were not trying to look pretty for the man. 

Jeans seemed too casual. A skirt seemed too suggestive. Romper seemed too out of place. You were thinking too much about it. And you were stalling. You sighed and chose a dress. It still seemed too suggestive, but dresses could be casual. It was whatever. It was no big deal. 

You got dressed and left the dorm, heading across campus and off site. There were campus-owned apartments here and you quickly walked, hoping to avoid trouble. The air was cool, almost cold, and there was a light breeze that made trees sway. 

In your haste to leave, you forgot a jacket. Stupid. Stupid just like your decision to hike to his apartment up the block. Your feet carried you there anyway and soon you were outside of his door, knocking on it.

A second later, Stunna opened the door. He changed out of his outfit for the day. He wore gray sweatpants and a black tank that highlighted his amazing physique. 

God took his time with this one. 

There was no doubt about it. You were momentarily struck dumb, openly staring at his body.

“You wanna come in?” His deep voice shook you from your filthy thoughts. 

You smiled and giggled nervously. He stepped back and you went inside. The place was like any other standard apartment. White walls, bright hardwood floors that had seen better days, with a small kitchen and bar area. 

He had boxes lined up against the wall. Some were open and some weren’t. He was still in the middle of moving in, but he had a linen couch and recliner, coffee table, and a flat screen TV with a football game playing. 

He crossed the room and put it on mute. He wiped his hands on the back of his sweats, calling attention to his glorious ass. You clasped your hands in front of you lest the traitorous things do something rash, like smack his booty. 

“I was hoping you’d come.” 

“I didn’t think I was going to,” you admitted. You felt silly standing in the middle of his living room but you didn’t want to sit down and get comfortable either. 

“I’m glad you did. Now I wish we would’ve at least discussed where we were from. When you said you were starting classes, I just didn’t think that it would be possible you’d be in my class,” he said. 

You groaned and rubbed your temples. “I tried to drop the class today,” you said.

A flash of hurt ran across his features before he turned to the TV. A moment later, his features were schooled and he nodded. “That’s probably for the best,” he said.

“I couldn’t drop it. It was too late. Everyone else was full and if I wait till next year, I’d be working overtime to pass all my classes,” you said. 

Stunna just stared at you across the gap. You played with your fingers, tapping the tips to keep you grounded. 

“I don’t like this,” he said. He gestured towards the couch. “Please, come sit. I won’t bite.” He grinned at the end of his sentence and you rolled your eyes, fighting off a grin. He was so damn corny.

You stepped closer anyway, feeling better with each step towards him. You didn’t like being that far away from him either. You sat down, smoothing your blue dress over your legs so that you wouldn’t give him the wrong impression. Maybe jeans would have been better. You definitely needed pants right now. 

You felt the heat of Stunna’s attention on your legs, but you clasped your hands over your lap and kept your legs firmly closed, no matter how awkward or painful it was because of your thick thighs. 

Stunna sat on the edge of the cushion, legs spread wide and taking up so much room that his knee almost brushed yours. His knee may as well have been a raging fire. This was insane right? To feel so intensely for a stranger? 

Stunna didn’t feel like a stranger, that was the problem. He felt like you had known him all your life and you were only remembering your time together. It was surreal and you had no frame of reference for something like this. 

“So you can’t drop the class. And I just got hired so I can’t drop it either,” he said.

“Nope,” you said, emphasizing the P. 

“We didn’t imagine our connection in Punta Cana. It felt like I was dying when you walked away,” he said.

“Don’t say that,” you said. You sighed and refused to look at him. 

“Don’t tell you the truth?” He asked.

“We can’t do anything about it! You’re…my teacher,” you said. 

“I’m not suggesting we do anything about it. I’m just…I’m saying that we can’t ignore this. I just found you,” he said. He tilted his head so that he could catch your eyes. You looked up at him and melted. 

He was so damn cute that it hurt. It physically hurt you that he looked that way, smiled that way, and all of his attention was focused on you. It was the most wonderful feeling in the world and it was cruel.

“We finally found each other and the universe really said ‘guess again’.” You tried to smile but your heart hurt too damn much. 

Stunna moved his hand and slowly grabbed yours. You let him. He slid his fingers in between yours. His hand was hot to the touch. But comforting. Solid. Real. He squeezed your hand and brought it to his lips to place a small kiss on the back of your hand. 

“It’s not forever. We can restrain ourselves for four months, can’t we?” He asked. 

You licked your lips and looked him over. How? How could you be in the same class as him or be near him and not want to touch him? Hold him? Kiss him? You had shared so much on the beach in the DR and more so in his room. 

He pried you open and stared deep into your heart without flinching. He touched your soul. Melded and meshed your worlds together. You couldn’t ignore that. You also didn’t want either one of you to get in trouble. Someone would catch on. It may not be now or in a week, but someone would eventually. 

“We can restrain ourselves for four months,” you agreed. It was only four months. Twelve weeks. That was nothing. It would fly by. 

Stunna nodded and squeezed your fingers. “So, that means we probably shouldn’t meet like this. Or be alone…ever in the next four months. Because I’m not strong enough to resist you,” he said.

“Shut up!” You laughed and shook your head. 

“I wish I could let you see inside my head. You have been on my mind all day. All last night. The things I was thinkin’ ‘bout you earlier,” he said. He bit his lip, head tilted to the side. If you squinted, you were sure that you could see the dirty fantasies playing through his mind. 

“You are insane,” you said. “That doesn’t help!” 

“You’re right, I’m sorry. That was inappropriate,” he said. 

He still held your hand in his and you stared at it. You fit like two lost puzzle pieces to a complicated puzzle. You didn’t want to let go. But you needed to. It needed to start now.

You started to slide your hand from his. He squeezed your hand, unwilling to let go. “Stunna,” you whispered.

“This shit isn’t fair,” he said softly. 

“I know. It’s not forever, right?” You asked. 

He nodded and loosened his grip. You slipped your fingers from his. You lied. This was the hardest shit you ever had to do in your life. Saying goodbye to him the second time hurt a lot worse. It was physical blow to your gut. 

In the DR, you could pretend that it was just a vacation fling. You were talking about meeting up again, but that was in the future. At some unknown date that you didn’t have to think about. You had weeks or months to get to know each other. 

Now, he was real and in your face. Now, he was close enough to reach out and grab. An ache thumped in your chest and you stood up. If you didn’t get up and leave right now, you were going to break down in his new apartment and no man needed to see that. 

You stood and stepped away from his couch, already feeling the numbness creep back in. The hopelessness that the next four months would drag on and on. You made it halfway to the door before Stunna called your name.

You turned towards him just as he was crashing his lips to yours. You hadn’t heard him cross the distance, but with his long ass legs it probably only took him two steps to reach you. He grabbed the sides of your head and tilted your head so that he could kiss you deeper. 

The strength of his kiss undid you. You melted instantly into his arms, kissing him back with as much desperation. He backed you up until your back hit the wall and he pressed you into it, rubbing his erection into your lower belly. 

You had a taste of that so you knew how good it felt. How well he maneuvered it to bring you the most utmost pleasure. You gripped onto his shoulders and held him closer to you while you kissed and explored each other’s mouths.

His warm lips were heaven against yours. Tongue playing with yours. You never wanted it to end. Just kissing him got your panties damp, arousal starting to leak out of you. Sweat gathered between your thighs and you rubbed them together, needing more friction than that.

Stunna broke the kiss, giving you some much needed oxygen. It brought a little clarity. “Stunna, we can’t–” 

Stunna kissed you again, cutting off your complaints. “We need a proper goodbye right?” 

“We had one yesterday,” you pointed out. 

“Naw, this is a real one. Please. I can’t let you walk away for four months without something to hold me over,” he said. 

“You so nasty,” you said and grinned. 

He looked into your eyes and grinned. His smile would always slay you. It was so open and joyous. Straight teeth. Perfect teeth. Perfect smile. Perfect man. 

“Hm, I seem to recall a bad little girl letting strangers play with her pussy,” he said. He smacked your lips with his, once and then twice. He kissed along your jaw and then started kissing your neck. “You can’t wear a dress like this and not expect me to lose my mind.” 

“I didn’t know what to wear!” You said. 

His hands moved from your head down your sides and then gripped your ass under your dress. He moaned, clenching and unclenching your ass cheeks with a low growl. 

“Do me a favor and don’t wear dresses for the next four months. I won’t be able to handle it,” he said. 

You made a strangled noise in the back of your throat. He wouldn’t be able to handle it? “Then you have to come to work looking like a bum, because that’s not fair,” you said. He got to look like an Adonis while you had to dress like a nun? How was that fair?

He squeezed your ass and you moaned, back bowing off of the wall. “Take these panties off for me,” he said. 

Your hands flew to your panties before your mind caught up. You hesitated briefly. Stunna stilled against you, likely giving you a chance to step away. Fuck it. You needed a proper goodbye. You needed something to hold you over as well. Something to get you through these next four months.

You got rid of your panties and he helped you take off your shoes and then your panties. He grinned, lips returning to yours. You moaned, feverish for his kisses. Stunna hissed knelt down in front of you.

He gathered up your dress and pooled it around your hips and fisted it in one hand. He spread your pussy lips with his free hand and delved into your pussy with his tongue. 

“Oh shit!” You moaned. You lifted one leg to give him better access. He growled his appreciation and moved his long tongue towards your dripping entrance. He pumped his tongue in and out of you and your eyes rolled back.

“OH fuck!” You screamed. Your hands dug into his small afro and pulled whatever you could get your hands on. His mouth felt amazing on your pussy. His nose tickled your clit and you felt it in your belly. You huffed and moaned, thighs shaking. 

He moved his tongue to your clit and flicked it back and forth with a speed you didn’t know he possessed. Your whines turned to desperate cries as you began to shake in earnest, screaming out an orgasm. 

Stunna rolled his whole head, slurping up your juices. He moaned into your pussy. He smacked your ass as you twitched above him. You looked down and caught his eyes at the same time. You almost came again. Locking eyes with him brought a level of intensity to the moment that you couldn’t describe. He made you feel like you were a giant. Or sitting on top of the world. 

When he was done with you, he slowly withdrew. There was a spit chain between his lips and your pussy. He grinned, watching it expand. He finally licked his lips and broke it. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and stood up. 

“Taste even better than I remember. Should’ve seen the nut I busted in the shower this morning,” he said.

Your head dropped forward against his chest. “Fuck, don’t tell me that,” you said.

His rumbling chuckle vibrated against your cheek. You lifted your head and moved your hand beneath his sweats. He went commando underneath and you lifted an eyebrow at him. He grinned as your hand wrapped around his dick. You stroked him slowly because you didn’t have enough lubrication to get him going.

“Was gripping my meat and stroking, thinkin’ ‘bout you. About the sounds you made. The way you fit me so well,” he said. As he spoke, his tone went lower. He leaned forward and kissed you. 

He moved his hips and your hand slipped out. You looked at him with the question in your eyes. He grabbed your hips and turned you around. “As much as I would love those lips on me, I’ve been dying to get back in this pussy,” he said. 

He tugged the top of your dress until it came down and trapped your arms to your sides. He pushed you against the wall. The cold hit your nipples and you cried out. He scooted in closer and you felt him tug his sweats down. 

He lifted your left leg, slapping his meat against your pussy. The wet smacks were filthy. You moaned and he ran his dick in between your folds, getting the tip wet.

The tip of his dick pushed at your entrance and you moaned. He slid in, inch by inch, savoring the feeling of getting filled up by him. You were a huffing, panting mess by the time he bottomed out. He kissed your neck where it met your shoulder and you moaned. 

“Fuck,” he whispered.

Exactly your sentiments. You fit. You were a perfect match. He filled you up, just this side of incredibly full, and you closed your eyes to the sensation. To the feeling. He pinned you to the wall and began to move slowly, sliding in and out of you.

“Shit,” he moaned. 

“You feel so good, baby,” you moaned. 

“I feel good? You feel like home,” he said. He continued to kiss your neck, nibbling a bit, as his strokes increased. 

Your hands were on the wall, trying to anchor yourself against him. His strokes increased until he was rutting inside of you. Each thrust drew a ragged moan from your lips. He moved to a different angle and touched your sweet spot. You cried out, shaking desperately on his dick.

“There’s my fucking spot,” he said. He grinned against your skin. Your head flopped to the side. You bit your arm. He felt too good. Slipping in and out of you. The wet smacks of your combined juices were lewd and turned you on more. Made you drip more. 

“So fuckin’ wet, nasty girl. You like this dick, don’t you?”

“Uh-huh,” you moaned, nodding your head. 

“You like this dick inside you?” He asked.

“Uh-huh, so good,” you moaned. You drooled against your arm. 

“Let me hear you then,” he said. He moved his free hand down between your legs and began to stroke your clit in tandem with his thrusts. Your moans increased in volume, turning into screams as you crashed into another orgasm. 

Stunna kissed your cheek and jaw, licked the shell of your ear. “Sound so pretty when you cum. Music to my ears, baby,” he said. 

“Nut in me,” you moaned.

“What?” He asked. 

“Nut in me, please, I need it,” you moaned. 

Stunna growled and increased his thrusts. They turned into a brutal fucking, spearing you. He still played with your clit as he slammed into you, fucking you just how you liked. There was no begging. There was no negotiating. You didn’t have to stop in the middle to communicate that yes, it was okay to get rougher. It was okay to rock into your shit. 

Stunna just did it. He gave you exactly what you needed. 

“You want this nut?” He asked.

“Yessss,” you moaned. 

“Fuck, I’m so close,” he said.

“Stunna, ouuee Stunna,” you moaned in between his strokes.

“That’s right, you let me know who owns this pussy,” he said. 

“You. You own this pussy,” you moaned. He groaned before you finished your sentence. He nutted, his hot cum filling you to the brim. Some of it even slipped out and ran down your thigh. You shivered, your head turning fuzzy at the sensation. 

Stunna finally stilled his strokes and let his dick pulse. You hissed feeling it. Stunna dropped your thigh and grabbed your neck. He pulled you back into him and you turned your head so that you could kiss him. The kiss was sloppy and you both panted, breath fanning across each other’s faces. But any touch of his lips was worth it.

Stunna kissed your cheek. “I still got some more for you,” he said.

“More?” You asked.

Stunna slipped out of you and then roughly turned you around. He kissed you, pressing you back against the wall with the force of his kisses. He kissed down your body, rolling his tongue around both of your nipples. You cried out. 

He tugged you by the front of your dress towards the arm of his couch. He bent you over it and spread your ass cheeks. He moaned and smacked your ass. 

“Fuck, I need all night with you to say goodbye,” he said. 

You were too blissed out to chuckle. Or laugh. Your head was floating, flying; your mind went on a little trip and you had no plans of returning. 

He slipped back inside and you shared a moan, feeling complete once more. He immediately went back to pounding and rutting, slamming his thighs against your ass with the force of his strokes. 

“Who own this shit?” He asked.

“Youuu,” you moaned.

“Own the fuck outta this pussy. Feelin’ so good, pussy feelin’ so good. It’s mine now,” he groaned in between thrusts. The arm of the couch dug into your gut and it felt good. You felt just as you did on Saturday night. Possessed. Owned. 

“It’s yours!” You moaned. “It’s yours, Stunna!” 

“Damn right. Gonna write my initials in this pussy,” he groaned. His fingers turned bruising on your hips. 

His initials were already there. It felt like with every stroke, he was stitching your souls together. You became one soul every time his tip kissed your cervix. “Oh fuck, fuck, fuck,” you moaned on each thrust.

His fingers moved to your clit again, flicking his fingers against it. You tried to lean up. You didn’t know why, only that you needed to move. To ease up a bit. He pressed on your back and made you take his dick. Made you take the brutal pounding. 

“Guhh,” you moaned and came with a loud cry. Your pussy gripped onto him and he moaned, thrusts turning sloppy and twitching. He came right after you, giving you another round of his cum. He soaked your pussy and you shivered, full body shaking.

Stunna slammed once more into you and then stilled, dick pulsing. His cum slipped down your thighs again. You were deliciously sore. You both panted in the quiet space. You listened to any sound he made. Greedy to capture everything. If this was goodbye, you were hesitant to see what hello looked like. 

Stunna slowly slipped out of you. You cried out. 

“Shh, shh, you know I got you, baby,” he said. When he was out, you were still sore as hell. You began to shake as the cold crept in. Something so powerful took a lot of energy. You weren’t just imagining things on Saturday. It wasn’t the anonymity of the vacation. You two shared a real connection. The kind love songs and poems were written about. And it was scary as hell. 

Stunna returned with a warm washcloth. You cried out, leaning up against the couch. Stunna cooed and talked softly. “I got you. I’m right here,” he said. He finished and wiped up your thighs as well.

When finished, he disappeared with the washcloth and then came back. He helped you stand and adjusted the dress back to where it should be. Then he moved towards the couch and had you straddle him. He held you and rubbed your back as you scooted into him and laid your head on his shoulder.

You didn’t speak. There was nothing to say. You had to find the strength to walk away from this in the morning. You weren’t going to fight it. You needed this goodbye as much as he did. You needed to get your mind wrapped around the fact that you couldn’t have this for months. 

It wasn’t the end of the world but it sure as shit felt like it. You were tired of being strong. But for now, you’d have to endure. It was the only way to get the best of both worlds. 

You listened to the cadence of his breathing. Warm chest. Strong arms around your back. “It’s not forever,” he said quietly.

No, it wasn’t forever.

D'awww, if you need more, you know I got you!

The Secret Big Stunna Files | Part 1 | Part 3

[emjayewrites]

Flashin’ Lights In A Midst of Darlin’ Nights (1/?)

A fated encounter in The City of Lights changed the lives of an actor and singer forever. And with those darlin’ nights comes even more delights.....

Synopsis: Will Poulter can count on his hands the amount of times he’s been rendered speechless, yet that was until he met singer-songwriter EmJaye. He soon finds himself speechless and dazzled every time he’s in her presence. For Mahalia-Joy, Will hooked her in with his quintessentially British banter. However, in this ruthless industry, a couple needs more to hold onto besides quick laughs and simple awe. 

Pairings: Will Poulter x EmJaye (Mahalia-Joy Washington)

Warnings: cursing, adult content, mentions of drugs/alcohol. (Rated 18+)

Taglist: @vargskelegore, @pocfansmatter, @afro-hispwriter, @user0292, @unfriendlyblkhotti3, @sarcasticmrfox , @blackpearlbutterfly, @melancholymelanin, @mochachocolatteyaya, @goldentriostan, @multi-culti-girl​ @chaneajoyyy​ 

A/N: I do not know Will or his family personally. This is solely fiction and any similarities are coincidental. EmJaye was previously mentioned in a Yahya fic, but her character arc is completely different/changed to fit this fic. I’m so excited to begin this! If interested/want to be tagged, please send me a DM. Enjoy the chapter. 

Paris, France  — Late June 2022

An upbeat French hip-hop song with a heavy bass echoed through the vast venue, simmering the cacophony of voices into a warm hum. With short, yet steady strides, EmJaye maneuvered through the horde of people until she found herself in the middle of the space.

Squinting, her eyes skimmed each placard and she immediately sat down once she found her seat. Sitting up straighter, she took a surreptitious glance at her phone before scanning the room.

Her doe-like eyes slowly swept their surroundings, stopping every so often for closer examination. Despite the sheer largeness of the space, to her, it had a lingering feeling of suffocation. The sun-filled room, with its show-stopping Baroque-styled windows and ornate furnishings, was filled to the brim with the who's who of the fashion and entertainment world.

Similar to EmJaye, the patrons were donned head-to-toe in various designs by Thom Browne. Although she’d coined herself as an extroverted introvert, the long-haul flight from New York to Paris placed her in the most dissatisfying jet lag. Her limbs were achy, her muscles tight, and her cheeks were swollen beyond relief from almost all of the common remedies.

She felt sluggish, annoyingly so, and regardless of her silent plea for a reprieve, she had to...

“Nice day, isn’t it?” an accented male voice pronounced, pulling EmJaye out of her inner thoughts unexpectedly and causing her to flinch. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

A Brit, huh?

The thought disappeared as soon as it arrived in her head once their eyes connected. His blue eyes were filled with concern and EmJaye quickly alleviated his worry with a kind half-smile and a duosyllabic utterance.

“S’okay”.

Returning the gesture, he gave her a lopsided grin of his own; an expression of gratitude.

A comforting silence fell between them, giving EmJaye the chance to study him closely. His dirty blonde hair was styled in a messy, yet attractive pompadour and a smattering of freckles covered the bridge of his nose.

Her invasive thoughts protruded her concentration, reminding her of his saccharine albeit dangerous grin, which caused her eyes to travel lower, tacitly appreciating how his toned body filled his khaki suit.

“Have you been to Paris before?” he spoke without warning, again reeling her back to reality, his expressive eyebrows drawing close together in intrigue.

“Uh...yes,” replied EmJaye with a slow nod and wide grin, eyes twinkling perhaps from a delightful memory or the sheer illuminance of the fluorescent lights overhead. “It’s one of my favorite cities.”

And Will couldn’t help but become transfixed by her gorgeous face and throaty voice.

Despite her outward bravado, upon closer inspection, she released a softness that enthralled him as much as her beauty. He deduced that she was akin to an onion — guarded on the outside, but when the layers are peeled, true vulnerability is revealed.

Her eyes were almost as round as her face, making her look younger than she probably was. Soft natural makeup complemented her blemish-free mahogany skin, delicate facial structure, and lush lips. She wore her raven hair in a curly updo with tendrils falling sensually into her face, which tempted him like no other to reach out a hand to tuck the lock of hair behind her ear.

To his surprise, Will managed to control himself from doing such sinful things by smoothing down his pants.

“Same. Paris has some great food spots. Really amazing bakeries too, if you’re into that sort of thing. I’m Will, by the way.”

Nerves got the best of him, which wasn’t that surprising, yet the awkwardness of his laugh accompanied by the seductive sound of hers instantly made him feel a lot better.

“EmJaye,” she shared.

A light bulb went off in Will’s head. “Oh! You’re a singer!” he exclaimed, clapping his hands together in realization.

EmJaye’s forehead creased in confusion. His eagerness threw her off at first, yet she remained calm. “Yes. I tend to do that from time to time. And you?”

“Actor,” he said nonchalantly with a shrug.

EmJaye’s eyes squinted, her eyelids narrowing into thin slits as she tried to remember whether or not she saw his face on the big screen before. To be frank, if they weren’t on her list of favorite actors, which comprised mostly of Black and brown men and women then she probably never seen — rather paid attention to — him at all.

Until, suddenly, it hit her. “Hey, aren’t you that racist cop from Detroit?”

Will couldn’t help but let out a mirthless laugh at her statement as the color completely drained from his face.

“Uh...unfortunately yes. Kinda wish you remembered me from a different movie though.”

Mutual anguish clouded EmJaye’s features, and she placed a hand briefly on his knee, startling him. “Sorry,” she whispered, her apology undoubtedly spoken in double meaning.

“S’okay,” said Will, repeating her duosyllabic utterance from earlier, and pairing it with a pearly beam.

EmJaye let out a snort, much to her embarrassment, yet Will took it in stride.

“Is that the only movie you saw me in?” he wondered, his eyebrows furrowing in a combination of fear and worry. “Please don’t ruin my entire acting career by saying yes.”

EmJaye shook her head. “I mean, no...” Her answer sounded more like a question and Will inclined his head. “I don’t know, maybe?”

He covered his face with his hand, eyes gazing at her through the small spaces in between his fingers. “You’re killin’ me, girl,” groaned Will, flashing an attractive moue.

“For all intents and purposes, I am very picky about what I watch,” she countered. “And I’m sure you haven’t heard any of my songs.”

“Bullshit,” Will blatantly stated with a dramatic eye roll. “I know, for a fact,” he paused his tirade briefly to take out his iPhone from his suit jacket’s pocket, “that I have at least one of your songs on my Spotify playlist.”

“Oh, do you now?” she teased in an annoying high-pitched tone, earning a feigned shocked expression from Will. “Wanna make a bet?”

With eyes glimmering with mischief, Will’s wide, dopey smile could easily make the Cheshire Cat envious. “I’m intrigued. What’s your barter?”

“Dinner tonight,” she vocalized simply. “Loser pays for dinner tonight.”

Holy fuck, as if she couldn’t get any better. “At any place?” he questioned and EmJaye nodded, toying temptingly with a tendril of her hair. “Deal.”

His voice was gruff, practically a growl and it made her shiver in excitement.

Will extended a hand for her to shake and she took his hand, watching as her own disappeared into his much larger one. EmJaye felt an electric jolt at the contact, for which she quickly extricated her fingers to cut off the current.

She cleared her throat as she jerked her head in the direction of his phone. “Alright, let’s see.”

Will decided not to broach the subject, and he twiddled on his phone, leaning towards her to show her that he, in fact, had not one but two songs of hers on his Spotify playlist.

EmJaye let out a gasp. “You motherfucker.”

Throwing back his head, Will laughed as soon he heard her inhalation and shifted slightly to place his iPhone back in the safe constraints of his suit jacket's pocket.

"I told you," he added contemptuously once his laughter subsided.

EmJaye couldn't help but grimace at his boyishly handsome, yet annoying smug grin. Will was proud of himself, his wide chest puffed out as if he was a peacock.

She watched in a silent, borderline dissociative state for several beats as Will ran a hand through his hair, his mouth moving fast as he rambled absentmindedly about her music. EmJaye was so enraptured by Will's animated and attractive face that she was unable to pay attention to his rapid-fire questions.

"How do you learn to make beats and stuff? I always wondered how musicians do that," he queried, his eyebrows furrowing together in genuine pique interest.

And for what seems like the third time today, her bubble of random thoughts and distraction popped, eyes wide as she stared blankly at Will. "Huh?"

Will repeated his question, leaning forward to listen closely to her answer or perhaps to get closer to her. Whatever the reason may be, his long legs briefly brushed against hers, sending a tingle down her spine. He crossed his ankles in front of him and comfortably adjusted himself in his seat, his equally long arms now placed around the back of her chair.

For such a tall person, he was rather delicate; his movements were gentle and fluid, methodical in a way. EmJaye was pleased to discover that just as enraptured as she was in her thoughts, Will was just the same when speaking to someone — undoubtedly immersed with every fiber of his being.

"My father and uncles were in a band," revealed EmJaye as she fiddled with her necklace. Will's cerulean blue eyes glowed as if it was a quiet plea for her to continue. "My Uncle Jared mainly taught me about melodies and beats and all of that. He even sang background for some artists in the '80s and '90s."

At this, Will rested his chin on his palm. "Really? For whom?"

Shrugging, EmJaye let out a scoff. "You probably never heard of them. It was mainly R&B artists."

"I love R&B," he mused.

"Even '80s and '90s R&B?," EmJaye quipped, straightening in her seat. "Matter of fact, do you even have anything like that on your Spotify playlist?"

"I have a few." His pearly beam was back in full effect, eyes darkening again with mischief. Drawing nearer, he whispered: "I'm not that White."

That statement caught EmJaye off guard and she exploded in a fit of giggles. "Oh my goodness, Will!"

"What?" he says, holding up his palms in feigning innocence as he tried desperately to stifle his guffaws. Unsurprisingly, a couple of chuckles eventually escaped and they dissolved into a paroxysm of laughter, much to the chagrin of nearby patrons.

"You made it seem as if I had no idea what you're talking about," he finally added after their laughter faded. "So like TLC and Boyz II Men, right?"

"Yes!" piped Emjaye in relief. "New Edition? Jodeci?"

"Yup, yup," nodded Will.

"Yeah, that's my Uncle Jared. After that, he tried to settle into 'normal life'," she paused to dramatically add air quotes and an eye roll, "but the music industry was his life. He somehow found his way to working in A&R for a few record labels, touring around the country for the 'Next Big Thing'".

"And I'm guessing that he found you?" wondered Will.

"Yeah", she answered with a shaky breath. "Uncle Jared always knew that I could sing and enjoy music, but I wanted to become a writer. Music was something of a pipe dream, yet here I am."

Will noticed the subtle shift in her expression. Her face dulled, her shoulders sagging, her arms hugging herself protectively, and her foot began to tap the floor in a nervous fidget.

He knew those signs of anxiety all too well. Hell, in many instances, he mirrored EmJaye. In just a short amount of time of knowing her, he could easily deduce that they were cut from the same cloth.

Empathetically, sadness clouded his features and he placed a comforting hand on her knee. "Are you okay?"

Those simple three words echoed in EmJaye's mind. He was too polite and well-mannered; far from what she was accustomed to from the opposite sex. People rarely ask if she was doing okay anymore and yet this stranger had her on the verge of tears.

I'm such a wuss, she thought. I can barely keep it together.

She pursed her pouty lips. "I'm going to be. The price of fame just doesn't agree with me."

"I can relate," he told her sincerely, forehead creasing. "Pardon me for asking, but is this something that you truly wanted?"

"It is, but I hate what comes with it," EmJaye chuckled bitterly. "The stalking, the paparazzi, using aliases to order food or get hotel rooms because someone might leak it to TMZ. Don't get me wrong, I am grateful for the experience to perform with artists that I admire or collaborating with them and finally being recognized for all the blood, sweat, and tears I put into my work. I love my fans too, yet at times, I feel like I'm constantly on the go."

"I understand," said Will. "Do you have any breaks coming up? Maybe time to relax and decompress?"

Almost immediately, her face lit up, which made Will equally as happy. "I'm working on my second album, so I have about seven months of downtime. Well, it's not downtime, but I have more free reign. Not as many appearances either. It was kind of a blessing to win a Grammy this year; my team is too busy celebrating the success to worry about making sure I'm getting exposure."

"And congrats by the way," drawled Will, which earned him a perplexed stare from EmJaye. "The Grammy?"

Her daftness made her want to die right there on the spot. "Sorry about that," she said as she massaged her temples. "The jet lag is killing me. I literally got here about three hours ago. I'm a bit slow at the moment."

"No worries." Will shrugged it off effortlessly with a smirk. "I get like that too without my cup of coffee."

Unexpectedly, the lights dimmed and EmJaye jolted at the shock of it all. As if on cue, everyone became eerily silent, shifting their focus to the catwalk. An overhead spotlight turned on, centering on a lone model that stood at the beginning of the runway. A slow, rich rhythm began to play as the model made his way down the runway in succinct strides. Poker-faced with a clenched jaw, he stood still as the many cameramen flooded around the stage to take endless photos. The model remained stoic despite the camera flashes and EmJaye wondered how he could possibly stand there without blinking.

Surely, he must be blinded by the lights?

The fashion show carried on without a hitch. Throughout the show, she felt Will loom closer to her and he whispered every so often about which designs he liked best.

Her heart pounded like a drum each time his breath tickled the skin at the swell of her ear. The booming was incessant and furious, akin to a hummingbird's wings. His deep baritone triggered a primal reaction within her; she felt hot and as though she could combust at any moment.

EmJaye had no idea why she was feeling like this, but there was something about Will that made her feel like a lovestruck teenager.                                                         _______________________________________________

Paris Fashion Week always made EmJaye feel like she was herded cattle. Ushered from one show to the next, EmJaye could barely keep up with what was happening. Fortunately for her, today has been easy with just Thom Browne's show to attend, and once it was over, she made a haste exit, with Will in tow of course. As predicted, the evasive paparazzi waited outside, capturing picture after picture of herself and Will, ever the well-mannered gentleman, extended an arm and graciously escorted her down the flight of stairs. Without a doubt, the photos will be sold to the highest bidder, which was usually a salacious tabloid readying for their next click-bait rumor mill article.

"EmJaye! Will! Are you two dating or just friends?!" one shouted at them, making her suck her teeth.

"EmJaye, how does it feel to be dating Marvel's Golden Boy?" another heckled.

"Fucking vultures," she hissed under her breath as she hopped into her waiting black SUV. Will followed suit, thanking her chauffeur as he closed the door behind them.

The car sped off in the direction of her hotel and the ride was still at first, without a single utterance between them. That time allowed EmJaye to gather her bearings and literally let her hair down.

Will spotted her moving figure from his peripheral vision and his eyes darted over to her, watching as her hands raked through her naturally thick hair, her springy coils dancing against the soft skin of her clavicle. Mouth now slightly agape, he studied her with an unwavering focus; eyes glossing over in awe as the sun hit her brown skin in the most astounding, angelic manner known to man.

"Any ideas on where to go for dinner?"

He blinked slowly as he came out of his trance. "Um....yeah, I know this great Thai place near the Eiffel."

"Ooh," she moaned almost wantonly. "I love Thai. Is it Sawadee?"

"Yeah," chuckled Will, his eyes boring into her deeply as if he was looking directly at her soul. "Have you been there before?"

"A few times," admitted EmJaye. "The family that runs it are good people and the food is always top-notch."

Will, a self-professed foodie, nodded in agreement as she described her favorite restaurant meals. He noted that she was more at ease with both him and herself than at the fashion show. She was more secure, solvent, and knew what she wanted.

The car ventured closer to her hotel, and it was then that Will realized that he somehow found his way back to his hotel. Without warning, he averted his gaze to glance out the window to confirm his location.

"Huh, well that's convenient," he says as the car parked at the curb. Her pair of doe-like brown eyes fused with his tempting baby blues. "It seems as though I've found my way back to my hotel too."

EmJaye chuckled softly. "Bullshit. Don't tell me that we're staying in the same hotel?"

"Nah," Will responded as he shook his head. "I'm in the one across the street."

Utterly bewildered, EmJaye took the chance to stare out the window herself. Her eyes darted to her hotel first then across the street to take a look at Will's. "Interesting."

"I know," he said lowly. "I'll make a reservation at Sawadee and I'll meet you out here in about an hour and a half. Sounds good?"

"Yeah." Her lips parted in a warm smile. "It's a date."                                                               _______________________________________________

It's a date....it's a date....it's a date

Complemented by the rich timbre of her throaty voice, EmJaye's sensual smile could bring a man to his knees.

And my anxious, socially awkward arse is having a date with her? thought Will in complete disbelief.

Admittedly, he was at an unbelievable stage in his life. With landing a role in the Marvel Cinematic Universe and now being at the mercy of thirst tweets, suffice to say, Will was having some difficulty adjusting to the unwanted attention, especially since he was no longer being ridiculed for his looks. And now, here he was on the cusp of having a first date with one of the most sought-after R&B/Pop artists.

What the fuck was his life?

This will be the time when his close friend and fellow actor, Florence Pugh, would joke that he perhaps girl-bossed a bit too high, or whatever the male version may be. Or maybe he was just a lucky son of a bitch?

Will nodded at the latter option. He was wrapped up in his head, erratic thoughts plaguing his brain, so he started to pace the length of his hotel room. He could barely piece together the memory of entering his hotel, let alone leaving EmJaye's car, and he was surprised that he didn't knock anyone over in his haste. The last thing Will wanted was to act like a complete dipshit around her, and he silently gave himself a pat on the back for doing well thus far.

The question was, however: did he even want to be in a relationship?

Although none of his friends, especially the guys, would openly admit that they enjoy being single, Will had comfort in being left alone to his own devices. Of course, there was a lack of physical and emotional intimacy, yet as he slowly began to learn, there was nothing wrong with being alone. Now, as he approached being thirty years of age, his past relationships and countless sessions with his therapist had taught him to enjoy the little things in life, which has been a previously difficult thing to do. His mental struggles gnawed at him when he was younger, but he now feels refreshed and content in his being. Truth be told, some days are harder than others, which is expected, and Will continues to take it day by day.

Despite this, Will had a desire to get to know EmJaye better. She intrigued him and he found himself hanging onto her every word. Being in a relationship with her may still be out of range or maybe completely off the table, but there wasn't no harm in being just friends, right?

The shrill ringtone of his iPhone snapped him out of his reverie and therefore ceased his pacing. Taking it out, Will immediately accepted the call once he noticed that his best friend, Kola Bokinni, was ringing him.

"Wassup, mate? How's London?" Will greeted, yet Kola had other plans and ignored him.

"Yo, man, why you kept dating that EmJaye singer a secret?" queried Kola in jest.

"Kola, what the fuck are you talking about?" Will was clueless in regards to what his best friend was referring to. "I just met her today at the Thom Browne show."

"Oh," his friend exhaled in fascination. "How was that? Your fit looked sick, man."

Will couldn't help but chuckle at how easily Kola got distracted. "Thanks, mate, but what's all this about me dating EmJaye?"

Putting the call on speaker, Will sat on his hotel bed and tinkered with his phone, listening carefully as Kola vented about paparazzi and rumors.

"They're fuckin' loons, mate, I tell you," Kola complained, earning a mumble of agreement from Will, who was too focused on reserving a table for tonight's date instead of his friend. "Like bro, they out here talkin' about you smashin' her since last year, which is far from the truth."

Well, that got Will's attention. "Wait, what?" he scoffed, rolling his eyes in annoyance. "I met her today, like for the first time."

"I know!" Kola exclaimed. "They said that you liked a post on her Instagram and now you've been smashin' her for almost a year. The Daily Mail is wildin'."

Will stared blankly as he searched in his memory to determine if he liked a post of hers on Instagram. The only logical reason was last year's World Mental Health Day and that was because he followed those types of organizations and social media tags. He could remember it clearly now; EmJaye is an ambassador for a nonprofit that focuses on mental health and she was in a campaign for them. Since he doesn't follow that many people on social media, that had to be the instance The Daily Mail was referring to. As ridiculous as this conversation was, it brought up yet another thing he and EmJaye had in common: activism. His attraction to her was enhanced by knowing she was equally passionate about mental health advocacy as he was.

Blowing out an exasperated breath, Will shoved his hair back away from his face and studied his surroundings. When he caught a glance at the clock on the wall, he muttered a curse.

"You alright there?" asked Kola, his voice full of concern and worry.

"Yeah," replied Will quickly. "Coincidently, I have a date with EmJaye and I have about fifteen minutes to get ready to meet her. I have to call you back, mate, sorry."

"You sneaky fucker," teased his best friend, causing Will to laugh. "You scored a fuckin' date after just meeting the girl? Damn, new year new Will, yeah? Alright bro, I'll let you go but you have to promise to ring me once it's over, okay?"

Will's face scrunched up, his nose crinkled in astonishment. "What, Kola, so we can cackle and gossip like schoolgirls?"

"Fuck, yeah," Kola countered with a laugh. "I know you don't usually kiss and tell, but you have to this time. That girl is too bad for you to be a chickenshit and not make a move."

"Kola, you're thinking with your dick," he drawled in a joking manner.

"And you are too."

His best friend's rejoinder made Will's jaw drop and before he could say anything back, the line went dead.

That sonofabitch. Kola was truly something else.

Will jumped off his bed to make a beeline for the adjoining bathroom, removing articles of clothing as quickly as he could to take a quick shower. He scrubbed the afternoon's dirt off his body, submerging himself in as many soap suds as was humanly possible. Afterward, he rinsed himself and repeated the process once more before exiting the shower with a towel haphazardly wrapped around his waist. He was grateful that his assistant unpacked most of his belongings earlier that morning and he found an outfit to wear, which consisted of a black T-shirt with matching ripped jeans and a pair of Nike x Travis Scott's Air Max.

Dousing himself with deodorant and Jo Malone cologne, Will took yet another glance at the clock and exhaled a held breath. With five minutes to spare, he grabbed his essentials — keycard, phone, and wallet — before heading downstairs to meet EmJaye.

Will became transfixed by the goddess that stood across the street. Her shoulder-length curly hair held tight corkscrews that framed her round face. With mahogany skin that shimmered beneath the hotel awning's lights, EmJaye wore a yellow mini-dress that boded quite well with her womanly assets. 

Her back was to him and when he called out to her, she turned to his direction with yet another one of those sensual smiles.

"Hi, Will," greeted EmJaye in that sexy throaty voice of hers.

He glanced at her with such profound fondness and awe. He was speechless in every aspect one could think of. His mouth fell open, causing her to bite her lower lip nervously.

"Holy shit, you look amazing," Will admired, completely stunned.

"Thanks." She shifted from one foot to the other, swinging her bag to and fro. It was another of her many nervous ticks and Will took notice, offering her a comforting arm.

"You ready to go?" he asks in a low baritone that made her entire being ache in anticipation and need.

She took his arm graciously, clinging on as if it was her lifeline. "Yes."

His mouth twisted into a lopsided grin. "Let's head to dinner then."

Draping the city in a casting white glow, the crescent moon illuminated the sky overhead, giving the couple the perfect backdrop as they meandered down the busy Parisian streets to the restaurant close by. 

As they walked, a few male onlookers slowed their pace to take furtive glances at EmJaye's long legs, and at that moment, a twinge of pride and protectiveness overtook Will.

Yes, he thought snidely as he glowered at them, she's all mine.

That revelation made him a tad bothered; just an hour ago he was very keen on being strictly platonic.

So much for only being friends. 

TO BE CONTINUED...

[miyuhpapayuh]

five.

Zora felt compelled to call her sisters up and get together, especially after the conversation she and Leon had, a few nights ago.

Meeting them at Snooze, they're at their usual spot, in one of the middle rounded booths.

“Hey y'all,” she greets, sliding in on the left side of Lovita.

“We know your secret.” They say in unison.

“What?” Zora asks, her lips barely parting.

“We. Know. Your. Secret.” Neoma repeats.

“Want us to spell it out, next?” Lovita asks.

“No, smart ass.”

“Alright, then spill it.”

“Okay fine, but it wasn't my fault!,” she whispers, “I was drunk! Nique said she'd keep quiet about the body!”

“What??” Lovita asks.

“A body?? You killed the man?!” Neoma whispers back, not knowing whether to laugh or be concerned.

“I had to. He was too pretty!” Zora whispers back.

“Would you two stop it!”

They fall into a fit of laughter, just as their waitress comes to take their drink orders; rummosas all around.

“Okay, you met a man, and apparently he's a good one?” Neoma asks.

“He seems to be, yeah. He's so sweet. So fine, my god y'all. So patient. He's got some soft ass lips.”

“Oh, you've kissed this man?” Lovita eyes her like an older sister would.

“A couple times, uh-huh.” She answers, making them gasp.

“Oh, you like him.” Lovita says.

“No, no. She likes him.” Neoma corrects.

“What's the difference?” Zora asks.

“Right, so how much did you drink and how much did you tell?”

Zora's sisters knew her like the back of their hands, especially Neoma. She was the most intuitive out of them all.

“Those buzz balls are like fifteen percent a gulp, I swear!” She defends against their groans of disapproval.

“Okay, we'll give you a pass on the alcohol. But, you're painting again, yay!” Lovita cheers, Neoma joining in.

“Yeah, it was kinda like another break the ice type of thing, not sure when I'll paint again.”

“How'd it go? I know you get a lil nervous, sometimes.”

“I was nervous as hell! But he's big on reassuring me that it's all good, and I needed that. Made it easier– took the pressure off a lil, ya know?”

“Sounds like quite the man!”

“Yeah, can we see him? You got pictures??”

Their drinks come out and their food orders get put in.

Zora flies to her camera roll, giggling before she turns the phone toward them, swiping through the pictures they'd recently taken together.

Some of them were cute, and others were cuter.

“Wow,” they say in unison, making her giggle all over again.

“I know!”

“Damn, he might be the prettiest man we've seen you with!” Lovita adds.

“I know!” Zora repeats. “Look at me, I'm evolving!” She laughs.

“That smile is killer, my goodness!” Neoma adds, before Zora pulls the phone away.

“Every time he smiles at me, I die a little.”

“Oh, girl. I bet!”

“So when do we get to meet him?”

“Uh… I need a little more time, but he's fond of you both, already.”

“Oh, we've been talked about??”

“Yes, I was telling him about my sarcasm gene and how it's one of a kind and that you two can attest, cause y'all are y'all, and I am me.”

Like clockwork, their eye rolls sync up and the bickering starts, making her chuckle.

“Here she goes!”

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“So, you got yourself a boo, huh?” Eryn asks Leon, handing him a bottle of water.

“What??” Their cousin, Damon, asked. “Leon got a boo??”

He chuckles with a shake of his head. “Yeah, man. Why is that so hard to believe?”

“It's not, don't take it like that. You just haven't had a girlfriend since Candy’s wild ass. I'm just a little shocked.”

“Yeah, well it's definitely not another one of those situations so I think I'll be okay, this time around.” He snorts, making them both join in.

“She was a mess, I tried to tell you.”

“He ain't heard nothing once he saw that ass on girly.” Eryn shakes her head.

“Anyway, y'all third degree over?”

“Just getting started, actually. Where'd you meet her?”

“At the flower shoppe. She could be a botanist if she really wanted to be. Naming flowers without so much as a glance in their direction, like she's mapped the whole place a dozen times.” Leon rambles, making Eryn smile.

“What a hobby! I love flowers!”

“You two will get acquainted, don't you worry,” he laughs.

“Okay! What does she look like?”

“She's about your height, curvy as all hell, mocha kisses skin– good lord, she is beautiful.” He stops himself, knowing he'd go on and on about her.

“What's her name?”

“Zora.”

“Wow, that's such a pretty name.”

“It matches her perfectly.”

“You in love, my guy?” Damon asks.

“No,” he shakes his head. “I really like her, though.”

“Does she really like you back?”

“Yeah, she does.” He smiles. “We've progressed a lot over the last couple weeks.”

“Aw, he's learning that these things do take time!” She claps, kissing her hand up to the ceiling.

“You are something else, Ryn.” He laughs.

“I'm just sayin’,”

“You're always just sayin’ something.” Damon interjects, catching an apple to the head.

“Ow!”

“Yeah, shut up.” She cuts her eyes at him, before turning back to her brother. “I'm just sayin’, maybe don't rush through, this time around. The way you light up when you talk about her, makes me think she's something seriously special, so treat her that way.”

“Precious cargo, I am. She's been teaching me about patience, just like you always do. I hear you, I promise.” He assures her, putting her at ease.

“Good. So have you kissed her, yet?”

“Yeah, I couldn't help myself.” He sighs, making them laugh.

“Aw, how sweet!”

“It was sweet, man! I felt like I kissed an angel.”

“Oh! And where have you and this angel gone, date wise? Yes, I'm being super nosy.”

“I've taken her all over. We went back to the flower shoppe, I took her her to What The Fries, cause she's never been and surprisingly she'd always wanted to go, so that was an extra pat on the back for me,” he smiles, nudging arms with Damon, “we've gone on several picnics, cause she's a nature girl and I'm all for sitting in some grass.”

“Country ass.” Damon snorts.

“Boy, fuck you.” He jabs with a laugh of his own.

“Have you taken her dancing?”

“That might be the only thing we haven't done— well, if dancing in her living room counts, then we've danced a couple dances.”

“Well, we’ll count those but you should take her to that place I was telling you about!” She snaps her fingers, trying to remember the name of the place.

“Flavor?” Damon asks.

“Flavor! Yes, everybody be down there!” Eryn claps, making them both laugh.

“Okay, okay. Next date, we’ll go dancing.”

“Ugh, take pictures or something!”

“Oh, you wanna see her? I've got pictures.” He says, pulling his phone from his pocket.

“If I smack him.” She stares at Damon, who just shakes his head.

“Leave me alone, y'all. I don't be thinking, sometimes.”

“We know.”

He slides the phone in her direction, telling her to swipe from the left.

“Wow, she's absolutely gorgeous! Ugh, I love her hair!” She squeals, swiping through to see a couple of her and Leon together, cheesing wide.

“Aw, you two look really good together!” She squeals, passing the phone to Damon.

“Thank you.” He smiles.

“Damn! She's breathtaking, my brotha.”

“You don't know the half, man.” He shakes his head with his eyes closed.

“Okay, I gotta know how you rolled up on shorty, cause she looks like she plays no games.”

“She don't. She actually fried my ass up a lil when I was talking to her, but ol Leon don't back down. Mama ain't raise no quitter.”

“Mhm, so what you say that made her feel different about you?”

“I'm an honest man and she appreciated that. Told her I wasn't on funny business and I wanted to take her out, and she let me know up front how things were gonna go. I listen, unlike some men.” He sideyes Damon.

“Don't start on me, man. What Keisha tell you??”

“Nothing. But you about to spill everything!”

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Zora was currently sitting in front of a blank canvas, when her phone started ringing.

A facetime call from Leon. She smiles and answers.

“Hey, beautiful.”

“Handsome. Wassup?”

“I was calling to beg for another date with you.” He says, making her laugh.

“Begging? I'm not that bad, am I?”

He smiles, shaking his head. “Nah, you're not bad. But I would love to take you dancing.”

“Aw, you tired of dancin’ in my living room?” She teases.

“Never that! I just feel like we might need more room to show off our moves, ya know?”

“Yeah, I hear ya. So where are we going?”

“There's this place called Flavor, my sister recommended it. She also told me to tell you hello, and that she thinks you're absolutely gorgeous.”

“Aw, she's too sweet! Tell her I said hello and thanks! And Flavor sounds fun, I'm down!”

“Great, are you off next weekend?”

“I am! I took Saturday off, cause ya girl be tired.”

“Well good, sleep til you can't no more and then we'll dance the rest of the day away. Sound like a plan?”

“Of course it does!” She agrees with a smile that matches his own.

Their playful banter continued on for about ten minutes, and then his mama called, making them reluctantly hang up.

“How's my boy?”

“Always good. How's my favorite lady?”

“Well I talked to Eryn and it seems like you've got yourself a girlfriend. Am I hearing that correctly?”

“Well, she's not my girlfriend, but we're working our way there.”

“Oh, okay! So tell me about her.”

He easily goes into his spiel about Zora, how beautiful, funny and intelligent she is. How her fire is his favorite attribute of hers.

“Sounds like your aunt Moonie.”

“I said the same thing, ma. I swear!” He exclaims, making her laugh.

“A spitfire, huh?”

“Yeah, she's not psycho or anything though. She's a sweetheart.”

“Well, when do we get to meet her?”

“I need a little more time.”

“No worries, son. But do make it before I gray all the way over,” she jokes.

Flashback.

Zora is at her easel like usual, painting away. Music blasting in her ears as she's in her zone.

It’d been a long day and she needed to destress in the ways she knew best.

And everything was going great, until he showed up.

Turning this light on, knocking this over, stepping over her materials that weren't even in his line of sight, just because.

“What you in here in the dark for?” He asks, but she can't hear him due to her headphones, which she points to.

“Take ‘em off your ear for a sec,” he says, before reaching and doing in himself. She snatches ‘em back before he removes them altogether.

“Yes, what do you need?” She asks.

“Wassup? Why you in the dark?”

“It's been a long day and I just needed to come home and sit and paint. My head hurts so I kept the extra light off. Could you turn it back off?”

“Nah.”

“Fine, I'll do it myself.” She gets up and cuts it right back off, beginning to move back to her easel when he steps in front of it, staring at the painting.

“What is this, Z?”

“Flowers, J.”

“They're ugly.” He snorts, looking over at her defeated expression.

“Thanks. I really appreciate that.” She responds, way too beaten down to argue with him.

“I'm just sayin’, maybe you need a new hobby or sumn.” He continues, making her brows scrunch together.

“Excuse me?”

“This shit blows. I'm tryna help you out, here.”

“You wanna help me by insulting me?”

“Constructive criticism, ain't that what they called it at that fancy ass school you went to?”

“You're just being rude, that's all you're doing right now.” She says, pulling the canvas away before he gets any ideas.

“Well shit, somebody had to tell you. Your mama loves everything you do and so do them sisters of yours. But I gotta be the voice of reason–”

“Oh my god, voice of reason?! Who asked you to do that?? Who asked you to be that?? I had the worst day at work and you're in here tearing me further apart over some fucking flowers? You can't even draw a stick figure and you're giving me advice?! Please get out.”

“Look Zora. Whether you like it or not, your shit is not good. I hate to be the one to break it to you.”

“I think you love to break shit to me. Makes you feel like a man or something, like you can't be a man in other ways— important ways. You'd rather go toe to toe with me, than listen to anything i'm actually saying.”

“I don't have time for this.” He says, making her sigh so heavily.

“Of course you don't. Why not just leave?” This is my apartment. Just go.”

“Fine. If I leave, I won't be back.” Is something he'd always say, but he always came crawling back to her with an apology and like the sad girl she was, she'd always take ‘em back.

Maybe this time would be different.

Who knew it would take another six months before she was finally done with his verbal abuse, lack of communication, concern and care.. amongst other things.

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Putting the finishing touches on her outfit, she steps back in front of Nique, doing her little twirl as she claps and whistles.

“Damn, girl. You look so good!”

“Thank you! I spent two days searching up and down prettylittlething.com and this little baby popped up, I almost— I screamed. I won't lie.” She squeals, twirling around in the hot orange number.

“I bet you did,” she laughs. “I love how you've got your hair, too!”

A half up, half down style worked beautifully with her curls as they bounced above her shoulders.

“Thanks! The hair goddesses were on my side, yet again!” She kisses up to god, before spraying her bergamot and vanilla perfume again.

“You don't think that's enough?”

“Can you smell it??”

“Yes! Put it away, before you start a fire!” She half jokes.

“Jesus,” Zora huffs, placing the bottle back on her dresser just as the doorbell rings.

If it weren't for the deep slit in her dress, she woulda been able to fake out the tremble in her knees.

“Sis, are you nervous?” She asks, totally surprised.

“I— I just might be!” She laughs, as they head down the hall towards her door.

Blowing out a breath, she opens the doors and the air is knocked right back out of her lungs, and she isn't alone as he takes a moment of his own to drool at the sight before him.

“Hi,” she greets, kicking one leg in front of the other.

“Hey,” he greets back, taking her hand into his to kiss the back, making her blush.

“You look amazing,” comes from them both, making them laugh at each other and Nique clears her throat.

“Leon, this is my dearest, bestest friend Nique. Nique, this is the infamous Leon.” She introduces, watching them shake hands.

“You're much taller than I thought,” she blurts, making Zora shake her head.

“I get that a lot,” he chuckles. “It's nice to finally meet you.”

“Likewise! It's about time we crossed paths. Now tell me, how much trouble has she gotten you into so far?”

“Oh, we're about waist deep, right Zora?”

“We’ll be up to our necks, after tonight.” She winks.

“Oop— well, let me get on outta here and let y'all get y'all's night started! I hope it's wonderful.”

“Thank you,” Zora says, hugging Nique before she opens the door back up. “I'll call you tomorrow.”

“You better,” she whispers, waving at Leon, “it was nice meeting you. Treat my girl great!”

“Of course, it was nice meeting you too.” He responds, before she leaves.

“You look absolutely stunning, mama.” He compliments, twirling her around as the frills on her dress flow about.

“Thank you, handsome. You look really good, yourself. I like this shirt.”

“Thank you. My sister helped me pick it out.”

“She did a good job!”

“I'll be sure to tell her so she can gloat about it,” he chuckles. “You ready to dance the night away?”

“Absolutely.”

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Out of all of my options, you'll be the top one

Baby, you got one-up

Get me high, get me louder

Damn, all that power I want you much too much

That sure do get me high

To God, oh, what I'm feeling

Well, you decide

'Cause, baby, all summer

They been all on my heels

I just need to know that if I pull up, you gon' be there 'cause you talkin' real, real And I don't wanna wonder

If you doin' side deals

I don't trust nobody, but that body keep on callin' me

(It got me roaming through these empty streets)

Thinkin' you ready for love

A strong hand at her back and a dainty one on his shoulder with their other hands clasped together, the two glide across the floor with ease, earning a few whistles from other couples.

“See, you're a natural!” Zora teases Leon, who swears he has two left feet.

“I'm only this good when I'm dancin’ with you,” he chuckles. “You know I got two wrong feet.”

“Lord,” she rolls her eyes as he twirls her once more, pulling her back to him.

“That your favorite move?” She asks, losing her breath from being so close to him.

“Mmhm,” he pecks her lips, starting a wildfire across her cheeks while they continue to sway.

“How's the last couple days been?” She asks, staring up at him.

“Hectic.” He huffs. “I got into it with one of my boys at work, which pissed me off cause he's usually pretty chill.”

She frowns. “It made it awkward, huh?”

“For him. I get my work done, regardless. It just slows us down cause now he acts like I gotta go through somebody else to give him information, and I'm not doing that.” He shakes his head, moving his other hand to her back now.

“Don't let ‘em push your buttons. I hate when people act like they're too important or butthurt to be bothered. It always boils over to them just being a jackass.”

“You're right,” he nods, laughing as she shoots him a look that screams “I know!”.

“What about you? I know you were a little more tired than usual.”

“Oh yeah, it gets super busy at the restaurant and those customers just lose their minds from time to time.. to time.” She sighs with a laugh. “It just took a little more outta me than I expected. But I'm okay!”

“Yeah? You sure?” He asks.

“Yeah, if I fall asleep on you, just splash some water on me,” she shrugs, instantly cracking up at his expression. 

“I'm joking, Leon!”

“I'm not too sure,” he squints. “Splash some water on you. We'd get you tucked in, before that happens.”

“Aw, ever the gentleman.”

“You know I do my best for you,” he humbly responds, making himself even cuter to her.

“Can I tell you something?” She asks, knowing she should hold her tongue.

“Of course.”

“I like you, Leon.”

He flashes that beautiful smile, and thank god he was holding onto her so tight or she surely woulda hit the floor.

“I like you too, Zora.”

The butterflies in her belly do a dance similar to the two-step she and Leon are doing, making her feel fuzzy and warm.

Unfortunately her pretty mules turned on her about an hour ago, forcing them to move from the dance floor, to a tiny rounded booth off to the left side of the place.

Were her feet pulled into his lap, while she sipped her margarita and danced in her seat to the music? Yes.

Was she enjoying every minute? Absolutely.

“So I feel compelled to tell you a little story.” She starts, and he's all ears.

“You know I'm listening,” he smiles.

“I know,” she smiles back. “It's not a nice story, but I won't get too sad on you.”

“Oh, is this about your ex?”

“Yeah, that rotten bastard.” She sneers, making him snicker.

“Seriously! He was a hater. He'd come home just to piss me off, I swear. Never a good full day, ever. Never any concern above his own. And it wasn't always like that, ya know? It's like he woke up one day and just started hating me.”

His brows furrow. “Who could hate you?”

“Ya know, I would ask myself what I did. Hell, I even asked him and he'd always tell me that I was trippin. Thinking too much into him dashing away my dreams, leaving more on my plate than not, shutting me out. You name it.”

“You're right, he was a hater.” He frowns. “Who the hell does that someone they care about?”

“I tried so hard to figure that out, that I made myself sick over it and him. I mean, imagine just graduating from college, working at a rundown job and your boyfriend comes home just to tell you that you should find a new hobby, a new lifestyle and a little bit more money because he wasn't gonna sit around and wait for a miracle to happen. Said he was my voice of reason.”

“Sounds like he needed an ass kick off that high horse he was on.” Leon says, shaking his head.

“Ugh! I can't tell you how many times I told him that. But, it never mattered what I said, cause he never listened. Plus, I'd take him back every time he'd crawl back to me.” She sighs.

“Don't beat yourself up about that, Zora. You just wanted him to do better. We all hit the wall, sometimes. You realized at some point that he wasn't gonna change and you left, yeah?”

“Yeah. It might've taken me a minute, but I did leave his ass alone. After I beat it.” She laughs, making him join in.

“I'm sure that was hilarious!”

“Nique has the video if you ever wanna see it.” She adds, going back to sipping on the fruity drink.

“Definitely taking you up on that.” He nods, reaching out to twirl a curl around his finger.

“I'm glad you shared with me. I won't be a bad story to add to your collection, I promise.” He says, making her smile.

“I'm starting to believe that. I really am.”

“Good.”

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Carrying Zora all the way inside her apartment, he closes and locks her door behind them and sits her on the sofa.

“Thank you,” she sighs, sliding her feet out of her mules and rubbing her feet over her plush rug. “I hope I wasn't too heavy.”

“Light as a feather, baby.” He assures, kneeling down beside the couch to be level with her.

“Baby, huh? That's me?” She asks.

“If you wanna be.”

“Oh, I wanna be.” She replies, making them both laugh.

“Good. Cause I wanna be yours, too.”

Moving from his kneeled position, he sits beside her on the couch, reaching for her hand to pull her closer to him.

“I had fun, like always.” She smiles, kissing him again.

“Me too, like always.” He replies, returning the gesture.

“So, where we goin’ next, handsome?”

“Still on the fence about meeting my people?” He asks.

“No, not anymore. I'd love to meet ‘em.”

“Great,” he smiles, linking their fingers. “Cause I gotta meet these sisters of yours. Mama, too.”

Ch 6

@sheabuttahwrites @thegifstories @blackerthings @blackpinup22 @twistedcharismaaa @abeautifulmindexposed @nayaxwrites @cecereads209 @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @ghostfacekill-monger @blowmymbackout @chaneajoyyy @awerkofart

[hearteyes-for-killmonger]

-heavy breathing on your phone- Do you like scary stories?

It's SP00KY SZN and your bestie Hearteyes has come bearing gifts for all you black cats and changelings.✨️

What is it, you ask? Why it's a comp of all scary fiction, old and new. With love and HORROR from me to you.✨️

Wanna know who I'm looking at? Don't turn around.

ADULT ONLY 21+

Verboten Passion Chris Evans/Cult

Blindfold Me Erik/Helplessness/Kink

Howl T'Challa/Werewolf

Daddy and the Void Erik/Demon

American Horror Story Erik/Phobia/OC

Puppet Master Erik/Venom

Crossroads Erik/Demon

Stray Cargo Erik/Shapeshifter

Killing Booth Erik/Victim/Witch

The Cries of Scarlett Grass Erik/Antebellum Period/Witch

Hips'n'Thighed Odell Beckham Jr/Hypnosis

Boo's Dollhouse A lot of characters! Yahya/Trevante/Brothel

All Mine Erik/Kidnapping

Love Underwater Killian Jones/Captain Hook/Once Upon A Time

Pranking Miguel Miguel O'Hara

Double Bubble Toil & Trouble Yahya/ 💩

Hood Nigga Deluxe Fontaine/Blood Play/Date/Betrayal

RATED E

Date with a Vegan Trevante Rhodes/Vampire/Theme Park

Midnight Society Graveyard/Campfire

Held Up Erik/Robbery/At Night

Scooby Doo Where Are You Erik/Mystery Squad/Crossover

What's Your Phobia Phobias

Jupiter Brain Snare Winston Duke/Lupita Nyong'o/Plant Hypnosis

Heads or Tails Erik/Serial Killer

The Grinning Clown Clown Phobia

HC: Spooky Szn w/ Edward Cullen October/Edward Cullen

HC: Planning Abbott's Halloween Dance w/ Gregory Eddie Gregory Eddie

Dark Magik Voodoo/Erik

If it's Rated E, then either the first chapter or whole story is SFW.

Keep checking back! I'll be adding fics here all SP00KY SZN!

Original Masterlist HERE

Bonus:

Autumn Bae Dress Up Game

Spooky SZN Playlist

@ogbritbrat @dashhoney25 @lettidarawest @soufcakmistress @ljstraightnochaser @princessstevens @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @thiccdaddy-mbaku @destinio1 @iamrheaspeaks @hidden-treasures21 @bidibidibombaclaat @forbeautyandlife @blowmymbackout @misspooh @thotyana-in-this-hoe @localtrapgod @purplehairgawdess @thegucciwaffle @miyuhpapayuh @ladymac82 @theegoldenchild @goddessofthundathighs @nobodybaby93

[aniwaaqada]

Years ago, I wrote a fic (1.2 chapters) for Black Panther soon after seeing it. I was so enthused, but lost my steam, yet I've kept up daydreaming/imagining it with no end.

Ya'll I don't even consume tv, movies, comics, books etc. fr. I've barely watched the Marvel productions. I only fr read fanfic--a very weird contradiction, I know.

But Erik and Aki(my MC) keep coming back week after week, day after day. They really want this story written and I am tired of me for refusing to stick it out.

I got my Scrivener doc ready, tons and tons of research and reading to do, and a very hazy plot that needs extensive updating.

My "What if..." question is: What if Erik became reigning King of Wakanda, as King N'Jadaka, not so much King Killmonger ?

Who would this Erik be? How would he show up as a Black American? How would he show up as a Wakandan?

How would he support his personal communities and black people around the world?

How is/was he supported with his tragic backstory that his first thought as King is not to massively throw the world into chaos?

What are his solutions to librating Black people and the rest of the POC world?

How would he love? How would he handle Linda?

What Bast's and Erik's relationship?

How would he cleanse himself as a warrior/person surrounded by death/negativity?

and so on and so forth

To me, he would be an Anti-Hero. Compassionate and Ruthless with a similar kill count. Crafty and Introspective. Devotee of Bast and also a practitioner of his mother's lineage. Deeply in love with a woman, but I personally say not with Linda.

Oh, and my version of Erik is definitely Yahya, not MBJ. His vibe is right for me, for this.

What are your thoughts?

Let me get back to plotting, cause I AM writing this.

Peace to the Nation

Oh, and call me Waaqa.

[killslumflower]

Due to the allegations against johnathan majors I will no longer be including him in any of my fics, lights off! Lead male role will now be between yahya Abdul-mateen, John boyega

And I’m very willing to take you guys requests because at this moment I can’t think of all the heartthrobs in our community!

Preferably a darkskinned male :) please drop your suggestions I planned to have part one out tonight, but it may come tomorrow so I can get you guys suggestions in

This blog as mentioned in my requests is NOT a safe place for abusers of any kind, as a survivor of sexual abuse and a witness too domestic violence of my loved ones through out my life I will never write for anyone even being suspected. I REFUSE. I stand with the survivors 100% until anything is proven otherwise.

If anyone is personally dealing with this currently, this is a safe place for you please reach out to me anytime you feel you need support! And utilize all resources below ❤️