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connie was nonchalant in his friend group, always high and lazy,
so why did he change once you came around, where did you even come from?
you both would be sitting on an red couch connie always sits on, whispering things while your leg would be over his and his hand would rub your thigh.
connie looked in love, smiling like a puppy every time you keep your promises to come over every friday to their ‘friends night’.
he always put his head in your neck, sniffing your fragrance and wrapping his hand around your hips.
so what would he say if his friends asked… “what is it that’s making you so happy and lovable.”
connie would say. “she’s sweet and cute and mine.”
all while that’s the truth he hasn’t said the full truth
because what he would’ve said is how good your fucking pussy is to him.
“fuck fuck fuck!” connie moans from under you. His wrist bounded on top of his head as his face portrays to be sadness but he felt so much happiness, he felt so fucking good.
“yes baby, love t-the way you fuck hnn- oh fuck.” he cuts of his own sentence, looking at your crimped jet black hair flow and tickle his legs as you lean back against his knees with your hands.
Giving him the most perfect view of your boobs and pretty puffy pussy, your wetness making such a sticky substance and a sticky noise every time you move your body back up to his fat pink—almost red— tip and smashing back down so your swollen clit can feel on his trimmed hair at his pubic bone.
“Love the w-way you fuck this dick baby. Love the way you f-fuck your dick s-shit imma cum.”
You moan and move forward towards him, now slamming your ass on him and a good rhythm.
“yea, want you cum in this pussy con. want you to fill me up until i feel you all right here.”
You slam down against his dick again, staying there so the end of his dick bulge slightly against your stomach and you touch the end of the hardness in your stomach. You clench around him at the pressure.
guys I had such a icky thought on how Simon is such a perv daddy. >.<
you and simon are going quite slow and sweet. so you don’t realize how simon does pervy things that usually you don’t catch.
first he started off simple and semi-innocent, everytime you drank from a glass he’d put his mouth against the gloss lip print that’s there, same as if it were a straw. licking the access of hopefully saliva but mostly always your cherry lip balm.
his heart would throb along with his dick.
he started smelling the scent of his passenger seat once he dropped you back off at home, hopefully to smell your perfume.
though, he gets most excited when you have your short micro skirts on with skimpy lace underneath because when he has the lucky chance he’d finger you till you squirt and cream on his fingers and seats. his eyes would roll back to the thought of hurrying you back home just to lick the rest of you that was there off his leather seats,
you can guess he starts to like you more, you’ve been coming over more, leaving your clothes over more.
he’d smell the pillow you use when you’re over, and when you’re gone hump on it all sloppily until there’s a mess.
and he doesn’t clean it off in hopes you ignore the stain or simply don’t notice it so you can put your face all over his dried up seed.
you even start leaving underwear over, he stuffs the dirty ones preferably in his mouth while another pair is wrapped around his dick.
he thinks about forcing the one’s he close to cumming in back on you so your puffy pussy is soaked with them.
& even though u guys never fucked and when you’re too sleepy to touch on Simon you always allow his nose to be deep in your neck as he breaths and huffs like a nasty dog in heat all while he uses your hands to pump his dick.
phat tip squished against your belly button and he’d whisper filthy shit to you while you still dozing off and halfway sleep.
“baby all i need is this.”
“feel so good luv, u sleep?”
“I can cum like this, can I cum in your panties? the ones you have on are my favorite.”
“God, I wish I can put my nut all in ur fuckin’ stomach.”
gosh he couldn’t wait to finally have you officially.
def the type to finger you and use the same fingers that are soaked from your pussy and rub it against the top of his lip and under his nose so he smell your arousal all the way back home. is that too yucky? ☹️☹️
guys I had such a icky thought on how Simon is such a perv daddy. >.<
you and simon are going quite slow and sweet. so you don’t realize how simon does pervy things that usually you don’t catch.
first he started off simple and semi-innocent, everytime you drank from a glass he’d put his mouth against the gloss lip print that’s there, same as if it were a straw. licking the access of hopefully saliva but mostly always your cherry lip balm.
his heart would throb along with his dick.
he started smelling the scent of his passenger seat once he dropped you back off at home, hopefully to smell your perfume.
though, he gets most excited when you have your short micro skirts on with skimpy lace underneath because when he has the lucky chance he’d finger you till you squirt and cream on his fingers and seats. his eyes would roll back to the thought of hurrying you back home just to lick the rest of you that was there off his leather seats,
you can guess he starts to like you more, you’ve been coming over more, leaving your clothes over more.
he’d smell the pillow you use when you’re over, and when you’re gone hump on it all sloppily until there’s a mess.
and he doesn’t clean it off in hopes you ignore the stain or simply don’t notice it so you can put your face all over his dried up seed.
you even start leaving underwear over, he stuffs the dirty ones preferably in his mouth while another pair is wrapped around his dick.
he thinks about forcing the one’s he close to cumming in back on you so your puffy pussy is soaked with them.
& even though u guys never fucked and when you’re too sleepy to touch on Simon you always allow his nose to be deep in your neck as he breaths and huffs like a nasty dog in heat all while he uses your hands to pump his dick.
phat tip squished against your belly button and he’d whisper filthy shit to you while you still dozing off and halfway sleep.
“baby all i need is this.”
“feel so good luv, u sleep?”
“I can cum like this, can I cum in your panties? the ones you have on are my favorite.”
“God, I wish I can put my nut all in ur fuckin’ stomach.”
gosh he couldn’t wait to finally have you officially.
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Where all the dominant y/n fics???? I'm tired of not f*cking back, being weak, being a "good girl" and "a pretty princess". Sure, that's all fine and dandy and hot and stuff. But where are the dominant y/n fics? Reader on top, choking him, making him whimper and cry out? Let me call him "my sweet boy". Where's the variation in kinks? C'mon now, I wanna be strong, too.
something about overstimulating men during sex that gets me riled up.
first they’re a little cocky, your hand tugging on their phat dick. honestly it’s a regular hand job. they’re moaning with a smirk on their face until their balls tighten and you stop a little to see it twitch until you spit on it once more and start tugging fast do that smirk drop and a frown comes above.
and the cum shot is long, splashing on your titties that sat nice in your navy blue lingerie.
the second you start stroking your hands on him again does he twitch and shake. It’s a lot because it’s surprising, it hurts a little but feels good more.
he’s laughing a little but it’s almost like he’s trying to hide the pain. “uhn f-fuck.” he keeps repeating it, over and over “ah- fuck- fuck!” and when he comes a second time you give him no break to start again.
you have to grip his dark harder because he has gotten so wet, his cum squelching between your fingers it’s frothing up at this point.
and now he’s in straight sweet agony.
his hips are thrusting, his spine is arching and gosh…his voice is wrecked.
“It f-fucking hurts!” , “god it feels so good b-baby.”
“I don’t know if I can cum anymore.” but he always cum, even if the cum shot is shorter because your draining his balls repeatedly
and you’ve gotten so wet, you decide you’re tired of hearing him fuss so you go and sit on his face reverse cowgirl so you can still stroke his dick.
that might have been the quickest he came. he’s licking you up, whining into you all while sniffing up your scent.
his thighs are squeezing together but you know he still wants some more cause his dick stay getting bigger, stay getting wetter, and stays getting harder.
“you can give me about 2 more yes?” you whisper and he whimpers.
Dry humping. Titty fucking. Thigh gap fucking, thigh riding. Mutual Masturbation. Solo Masturbation. Just making out without an escalation to sex. I will be bringing it.
you were like a vixen straight out of a 80’s porno. always had curtain bangs, hair black with streaks of blonde or pink. lips puckered with a dark brown lip liner and nude pink in the middle glossed up. eyeshadow always sparkled with glitter, body always sparkled in glitter. and Jesus you smelled so good.
looked even better with your black lace bralette and black lace panty, thong so skinny it almost looked like you had nothing on if it wasn’t for what’s between your legs getting hidden by that exact lace. top and bottom belly pierced with a tattoo that reached the top of your ribs all the way to your ankle.
gosh, to say onyankapon was infatuated would be an understatement.
“so you the birthday boy?” you questioned, walking up to him where he was seated in the private room. “friends out there hollering about you, how you deserve this cause you just won a football game, what? last thursday?” you smirk at him, you tease him.
he’s never felt so stuck before, not when he was on the field, not when he had to talk in front of damn near millions of people when he lost a game, and never when he talking to some female. his lips curl as if he was mad at her for even given him a reason to stutter on his words.
he bite his lips, diamond grills showing slightly “yeah, that’s me.” he eyes your feet first when you get closer, cute, feminine with black frenchtip. he eyes trail higher when he sees the long straps on your heels that reaches below your knee, you so fucking captivating. the hell you doing at a strip club?
his eyes meet your pelvic bone, looks at you petite waist and ribcage and he can tell you been working hard on that pole. your body just shows it, faint muscles in your arm, ass so plump and he bet he can sit a cup on it if he concentrated hard enough. “yea that’s you?” you bite your lip back at him, all white straight teeth.
you get even closer, one heeled foot going between his man-spreaded legs. and with that he leans back, gets more comfortable. arms behind the seated area. you tuck your head to the side as you inspect him, designer baggy pants and chrome heart long sleeve, he has a hat on but you can tell he got a fresh cut with some braids underneath. Silver Cuban link chain around his neck and an even big Cuban link bracelet over his wrist that matches perfectly with a blinged out Rolex.
you can’t say the money he obviously has wasn’t making your pussy a little wet, you loved when men came in, and they looked as good as they money. but you can tell onyankapon is different, he’s a little calm, he looks like he was forced into this but possibly has taken a interest in you. and another thing you absolutely loved more than a cute face with money is someone you can get over.
the way he flinches a little, you can tell even though bitches probably flaunt they way at him he ain used to someone like you, and that makes him…cute.
“you cute onyankapon.” and just as he was about to question you with a eyebrow up, you plop on his lap. “can tell you never did nothing like this before huh? even though football filled with niggas that ain shit, you a good boy.” you lean closer to his ear and ony swears his spine tingles and straightens.
his fist balled up and he leaned his head to the side as if it was an invitation. you don’t take the invitation though, you lean back and look at his face, your hands going behind you to lean or his knees, covered pussy in the front of his zipper.
“I-it, what?” it’s like he wanted to confess but a cat caught his tongue telling him no. One hand from his knee moves to grab on his jaw, his breath is caught up and staggered. “usually men aren’t supposed to be touching on the girls, not supposed to be doing more than giving money and watching,” you lean closer to his face, teeth softly biting at his bottom lip, he groans almost pathetically. “I can tell though ony, you might be my favorite.”
your hips grind once against his, and his hands find your thigh, not giving in all the way.
ony was frustrated to say the least, though you had something so skimpy on, his jeans was making it hard.
and speaking of hard he can feel his shit twitching more, the more he smelt you, the more you body moved, the more your fingers touched over his face and under his undercut, the more you fucking breath against his ears.
he was a sensitive man, barely fucking anyone because that’s just not his style. he aware of gold diggers and money hungry girls, which is ironic because he at a strip club where the reside at but fuck he was forced her and fuck did you change every thought process he had.
his friends told him about you, how you move, how you laugh and just how sexy you are. they always said how strict you are about the touching policy, about how you barely even give them more then a 5 minute lap dance before you requesting the money.
he doesn’t know nor you, but you end up on your back.
his jeans still on but dick so hard it’s form against his thigh and he’s getting so fucking greedy he just jumping against your thigh and covered pussy like his famous career doesn’t even exist. like she can’t go and rat him out for actually being a loser.
but you would never, because this is exactly how you like em.
“f-fuck sorry I just….oh god.” he moans softly. his hands grip the underside of your thighs and your hands follow his shoulders. “it’s okay ony, you can take it out though.”
he pauses, breathing heavy as fuck and eyebrows furrowed. “you can’t put it in, but I’ll give you a little something more for your birthday.”
and he does, his thick tip sliding against the pudge of your pussy that’s now poking outside of your panties.
he feels the wetness, he feels the lace and he so turned on he feels like a teenager.
you can tell he’s getting into it, your biting your lips and your pussy is fucking throbbing cause it all just feels so good. he smells so good, and he’s doing so good.
“mm, my- I’ve never did this before.” you mumble and moan, watching him bring your legs up and over one of his shoulder so your thighs close better around his dick and he goes deeper like that, balls squished against where your hole is pulsating and the top of his dick covering almost your whole belly button. “just like that ony.”
“uhn fuck! mama, I think I can nut just like this.” he half way laughs and groans. and now he’s unstrapping your heels to digs his nose in your ankle, to suck and lick on the heel of your feet all the way to the tip of your toes.
you moan out in shock, back arching off the couch.
yes, this is exactly your type.
his hips go sharper, but sloppy nonetheless, it makes him tremble and he’s not even sure what he’s doing anymore, “ima become a regular. I swear, you gon give me this treatment everytime?” he questions and oh he’s the cutest with the way he’s absolutely deadass.
you smile behind a moan and you nod.
you’d give him everything he wants.
A/N: lowkey y’all im finna drop drafts because why not. I’ve been MIA ASF, i edit a little of em but not all. I have so many drafts. (Should I start finishing them? I lowkey lost motivation, I feel like a Wattpad author when they ghost their audience lmao)
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𝑬𝑽𝑬𝑵 before he sent that message, she could hear it; the low rumble of the engine. An S58 she remembers him saying—whatever the fuck that means.
His vehicle haunts her property.
She should be worried. She should be scared.
Instead, all she can feel is a poorly timed ego boost; she smirked when she read the message.
What kind of a man shows up to your house, unannounced, begging for a sexual favor? And what kind of a woman is she to be excited by something like that?
She only has the answer to one of those questions.
Either way, there’s no guilt regarding her feelings towards this situation. She’s already decided that he gets a pass—just because she likes him.
Patience is embedded in her pace. So much so, that it can almost be mistaken for a lack of care.
Before she lifts a finger to respond to his text, there’s a list of chores she must run through; There’s grabbing herself a midday snack. Afterwards, it’s studying herself in the mirror, trying to decide if she should get that extra syringe of filler in her lips this month or not. And lastly, she has to freshen up in the bathroom.
All the while, the steady purr of that engine awaits outside. And when she finally remembers that it’s there, that’s when she seems to muster up enough consideration to respond to his message:
Ok
It takes almost another thirty minutes to make it out of the house. She can’t go out there with her hair out of place. He’ll appreciate the effort when he sees it. She knows he will.
And she’s pleased to see that she wasn’t wrong when she pulls that car door open.
He’s sitting up, alert and body turned in her direction. He could’ve fallen asleep by now with all of the waiting she had him doing.
But, she knows he wouldn’t. He’s proven himself too desperate for even a sprinkle of her time.
Fucking loser, she thinks with a scoff.
“Hey.”
His voice wavers with thinly veiled excitement. Even as he smiles, the expression twitches with a weak attempt at keeping one’s face under control.
She—successfully—fights the urge to grimace.
"Your hair is pretty," he speaks softly, eyeing the lengthy loose-deep wave bundles sitting over her shoulders.
For what seems like the the longest five seconds in her entire life, she stares at him quietly. “Let’s make this quick, I have things to do.”
That isn’t the first time she’s said that, yet … there’s never an explanation for the “things” she mentions. Then again, he never asks. He knows better than to question her.
His nod is too hasty. She allows her upper lip to curl in distaste.
His seat lowers at a pace she can tell is too slow for him. Like, if he could, she swears he would have his seat lower at break-neck speed. She finds it so pathetic.
It’s almost a big enough deal to ruminate on—almost. Until her attention is snatched up, so quickly she doesn’t even get the chance to be disgusted within herself for being so … easy.
The flame of her usual candor is snuffed out. Black baggy sweatpants, structured with fabric thick enough to hide the general shape of his legs, folds and bends around what’s between his thighs.
It hides so little yet so much; the general shape of an untouched dick as it firms up in her presence. Wrinkles pull around her nose with the scrunch of her face.
“God, did u even put on underwear?” Her lashes bat beautifully with every irritated blink.
It takes seconds for her to return eye contact, having to drag her eyes away from his lap. When she does, she only rolls them as he leers at her like a poor man who’s just found gold.
He shakes his head in answer.
“Whatever.”
She doesn’t move with haste, nor deliberate slowness, as she pulls her shorts and underwear off. She moves with a normal pace, in fact. However, in his eyes, she might as well have been losing a race against molasses.
His fingers curl, bend, and snap with the cracking of his knuckles, a habit of restlessness within him she’s come to know. She bites her tongue to keep from lashing out at him for the incessant sound.
She comes to her knees, just seconds away from crawling over to his side when she halts in place. She shoves an accusatory finger in his face. Yet, he doesn’t break eye contact, only gazing into her big, gorgeous brown, irate eyes.
“And don’t fuck around this time—none of that extra shit. You said you wanted to eat, so eat. No fucking talking or praise or—or whatever the fuck it is that you like to do. I’m not your bitch. I just want to get off, that’s all.”
Lower lip caught between his teeth, he nods like an eager dog.
Her warning glare lasts but so long before she folds herself in half on his seat, pulling her knees to her chest. Baby blue shorts have made their way up by her ass, coming to hide between the full cheeks.
That doesn’t distract him from the stretch of the skimpy fabric over her cunt. The curves of her lips, the fullness of her clit—he should be the one asking if she’s wearing any underwear.
Immediately, he gets an answer when she drags the shorts off, tossing them onto the car floor.
Nope.
Shifting an inch lower in his seat as she climbs onto his side, he’s already got a hand in his lap, pushing his dick to sit more comfortably. Every movement she makes as she situates herself atop his chest is punctuated by a jiggle.
It makes his mouth water. And as she moved higher up his body, he sticks his tongue out for a taste. The wet muscle waits for her as she lowers herself right over his face, fat pussy spread for him.
“Fuck,” he groans out from beneath her thighs, voiced muffled. “Been waiting for this.”
“Couldn’t even f-fucking wait.”
Blindly, he squeezes himself through the thick sweats that start to feel more like suffocation than warmth. His hips stutter.
“Stop—fucking moving so much.”
Her words send a straight shot of blood down to his dick. He doesn’t wait for her to tell him when to start. He already knows how this goes. His free hand comes down on a dimples ass cheek with a smack, gripping the fat.
“Hey—”
His tongue slides through her lips with no hesitation, wetting them up and getting them even slicker with his spit. The sound of her breath hitching in her chest is heard, even as he’s under her water.
He smiles against her before he can stop himself. Because no matter how bad she curses him out, he knows that she loves this. All of it. Even the parts she claims to hate.
The muscles in his upper arm flex as his hand travels higher to hold the small of her back, providing strong support as he tongues her clit.
It’s been so long since he’s last tasted her. A week was absolutely ridiculous.
“Fuuuck, I—mmph … missed this,” he mumbles, gently wagging his head beneath her as he burrows his nose in her lips. “Missed kissing … your pussy—“
“Sshut the fuck up.”
The arch in her back deepens with the rocking of her hips. Her knuckles pale as her grip on the top of the backseats harden.
He doesn’t even remember getting his hand in his pants, but that’s the least of his worries as he shakes his head faster.
“Love this—“ he moans out, cutting himself off.
She chews at her bottom lip as she tries to concentrate on the swivel of her own hips. The dense muscles in her thighs clench and unclench as she moves back and forth, dragging her pussy over his face.
“S-so stop talking, a-and fucking eat,” she says through gritted teeth, breath hitching as he plunges his tongue inside.
A deep groan shakes her to her core as his mouth widens to take more of her in. His hand moves beneath the cover of his pants, pumping slow and steady, squeezing just enough to mimic how he thinks she’d feel on the inside.
God only knows she would never let him get the chance to experience the real thing.
A hand lets go of the leather seat to sink between her legs. Her fingers—skinny and prettied up with long acrylics his money paid for—snake through his soft, chestnut curls.
“Mmh,” he moans, humping up into his own hand as the pads of her fingers kneed at his scalp.
She doesn’t give him the satisfaction of moaning out for him, letting him know verbally how much she’s enjoying this. All she gives him is the relentless roll of her hips, her ass dimpeling over his chin as her pussy is smushed all over his face.
He feels blessed, truly.
Blessed to bury his nose within her fat pillowy lips, slicked up with her own juices and his spit.
Blessed to feel her walls squeeze around his tongue and try to milk it like it were his dick, desperate to be filled with his nut—or he wishes, at least.
Blessed to feel the firm pumping of blood to her swollen clit against his upper lip as he plays with it.
“O-oh, God—“ He inhales so sharply, his chest locking up beneath her body, as those fingers coil tight with his curls and tug.
“You’re getting greedy.”
“H-hm?” His hips stutter.
“Moving like … you always have access to me … to th-this,” she pants.
He shakes his head against her, brushing his lips against her clit—unwilling to even pull away for just a second to respond.
She tugs harder.
“Agh—fuck—“
“Should be fucking thankful … even giving you the time of f-fucking day.”
He twitches in his hand, a dribble of precum slipping out and soaking his boxers.
“Y-you’re right—“
She readjusts her seating, dragging her cunt and ass against his face.
His hand falls from the small of her back down to an ass cheek. His fingers grip it tight, just imagining the way the fat spills through them.
“Fuck, I’m sorry … I-I’m sorry.” His voice is muffled against her hot, wet skin. He releases the tight grip on her to rub at the supple skin, feeling the cellulite and stretch marks beneath his palm. “M’sorry … s-so sorry.”
His licks turn tentative, moving with the purpose of enjoying everything that she gives him. Everything. There isn’t a single part of her that he rejects. He licks her down like a plate.
A weak shudder trickles down her spine, eyes shutting for half-a-second as she almost lets a tiny mewl slip.
“Sorry,” he croaks. His lips press an apologetic smooch to her clit, feeling it thump against him. “I’m Sorry.” His words blur into a mumble as he nuzzle into her cunt again, feeling her honey drip and glaze over his face.
She’s all he smells, feels, and tastes. She’s all around him, his atmosphere.
“I don’t wanna fucking apology,” she murmurs, eyes low and unfocused as she uses his face to reach her peak. “Tell me … what it felt like, waiting a-all week for me.”
His eyes roll back. His brain short circuits, moving on the first, stupid thought it spits out. He lifts his hips to blindly push his pants further down. He pulls his dick out, exposing it to the car’s moist and heated air.
“Tell me,” she grits out, pulling at his hair again.
“Yes, baby—shit,” he moans, eyes closed and mouth open. “It was … s-so hard.”
His voice cracks. Her thighs tremble around his head and his hand steadies her at her back again.
“Kept … kept remembering the way you … way you tasted...”
His hand passes back and forth over his dick, spreading his precum over his taught skin. If they listened hard enough, they could hear the soft squidge of his slicked up skin as he beat his dick.
“Could feel you … o-on my tongue, I …” His tongue finds her clit and suckles at it, completely forgetting what he was saying.
She not so much as allowed it as she is desperate for her own climax.
He lets her pearl go with a quiet pop. “Was going crazy, baby. Could smell you everywhere … missed you.” His voice is almost a cry. “Missed you so bad, I … mmph!”
Cum spills down his dick in a messy dribble, slipping over wet skin and his fist as he continues to tug.
“So hard … was so hard anyt-time—thought about you.”
His words melt into a slurred mess.
“Wish you could see me, huh?” she pants. “Have me cum all over you, h-hm?”
“Mmh—fuck, yes, Mommy,” he mumbles breathlessly into her.
Her walls flutter at the word and her eyes threaten to roll back. The drop she feels in her lower tummy is steep.
why not make reader not black? no offence at all but the point of x reader is so that everyone could feel included not excluded. some of us are asian, mexican, or arab. not everyone on tumblr is black, please be mindful of that!! i love ur stories but it doesn’t feel like x reader to those who don’t share those traits! ;((
im going to say this with all due respect: i don't care if you don't feel included with my black readers. black women are constantly overlooked in fandoms. the majority of x reader fanfics are written with white readers in mind, which is why we read "you blushed" or "he ran his hand through your hair" in them.
black readers are not a majority at all. there are plenty of fanfics for non-black people, so i don't understand why you're coming to my inbox crying.
you sound like you're forced to read my work. if that bothers you, you can make your own fanfics with asian/latina/arab readers or read someone else's work. im not going to censor myself for a stranger.
we can do whatever we want with readers! plus-size, black, shy, baddie... just because one person doesn't like it, i'm not going to stop. if i hadn't specified that it was a black reader, i would have understood that it bothered you, but it's stated at the beginning of the fanfic.
black women deserve their safe place too. we wouldn't have needed to create black readers if white people didn't think they were the center of the universe and forgot everyone else when they wrote.
not everyone is black, so not everybody needs to read my fics. so no, i will not "be mindful" of that, like you said. stop forcing writers to suit your tastes and look for writers who suit you, thank you.
y’all be so worried about everything but making your own craft. if you don’t like niggas’ pages, write your own shit or shut the fuck up. if we wanna write for our own people, we ABSOLUTELY CAN ! THE FUCK.
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