Being full of yourself isn’t something thats unknown.

You’ve always gotten those ‘allegations’ since you were still new to the world. You know it, Ony knows it, hell—he feeds into it the most. He can’t even stop himself from smiling, faint dimples peeking through his cheeks when he catches you staring at the mirror by your shared bed while his long, curved dick is plunging in and out of you right when he shows up after work unannounced. He needed this—needed nothing more than his pretty ass girlfriend after a long day behind the chair, cutting hair nonstop and ears filled with pointless conversations that never mean anything. And he lets you know that.

He told himself he showed up because “you were too quiet and needed checking on” or that he “doesn’t like being away from you for too long”—both true, but neither the main reason, not with how much of a hurry he was in to get you cumming for him. Not even half an hour after he came through your door—he had your thighs wide open, teasing your perky clit through your panties, the cotton adding extra friction while he circled his fingers creating a wet patch while your folds spilled out the sides of the fabric, the shorts of your tiny matching pajama set tossed to the side. That’s why across the room, his keys were tossed beside his gun on your dresser like it was nothing, looking out of place right next to your perfume bottles and sweet-smelling pink candle still burning soft in complete contrast in how loud you were moaning while your boyfriend split you open.

“Daddy baby so pretty,” Your head is tipped back over the edge of the bed into the mirror, ponytail of knee length knotless braids slipping out of place, vision flipped upside down, your reflection staring back from the mirror beside you—glossy-lipped, flushed, eyes locked on yourself like you can’t help it, because you really can’t focus on anything but you and your Ony’s tip almost brushing your cervix. His built arms fold your knees in close, holding you right where he wants you almost too easily. He glances at the mirror this time, grin going lazy. “Isn’t she?” He ask as he focuses on you a little longer. “Why she look like she ’bouta cry?” He shifts just enough to make the point, like he’s waiting for the answer to show on your face as he pulsates inside of you.

“You hear me lil girl,” Your pussy is loud to the point where he can barley hear himself—the creamy noise alone filling Ony’s ears can make him nut so he cant dare to look down at the way your pussy drools so much everytime theres a mirror involved. The way you turn yourself on, knowing exactly who you are, gets him going every single time—for some reason, he could never explain why your confidence always had blood rushing to his dick immediately. “Uh-hhhmm! I-m not ‘bout—a cry! Mmph!” you choke out knowing good n well you’re already crying, eyes and lashes almost as wet as you.

a/n: posting a draft of my baby ony because i feel bad for always ghosting yall😞 writers block still beating my ass after 3 months ughh when will it end

not proofread

“f-fuck—’con! get offa meeemmh!” you whine in half-complaint, half-pleasure when he has you flat on your back, clothes discarded fresh off the wake up. you were in deep sleep less than 10 minutes ago but connie woke up with a craving knowing you were freshly waxed and always warm and dripping wet in the AM.

you cannot be freshly waxed around connie—it’s basically a death sentence. that little ‘no sex for 24-hours’ warning your waxer gave you? your eater of a boyfriend couldn’t care any less. not one bit. don’t get him wrong though—connie loves you no matter what. shaved, grown out, untouched. he’s never been picky about that. but when that 6 week appointment hits and your chubby folds are soft, letting him get a clear view of the sensitive bundle of nerves calling his name—he’d tug your panties down right outside the shop again if you’d let him, eating like he lives and breathes for it. your pussy is connie’s therapy. basically.

that’s why the sun barely had a chance to rise before he had you a moaning mess, your body responding before your brain could catch up. the heat pooling between you had him grinning with your whole pussy filling his mouth. the bottom half drenched in your creamy arousal while he presses his tongue flat on your throbbing clit. nasty ‘slp, slp, sllp, slrp’ sounds filled the room as you thrashed around the bed with a muffled “stop movin’” vibrating against you as he follows you wherever you go. your pussy is loud at this point—you know almost a hundred percent it can be heard from the other room.

“pa—you—need t’—stop—this—shiittt!” you gasp, voice breaking between moans and frustration as your long nails claw through his bleached buzzcut. a sigh falls from your lips when you feel him finally ease up only for the pads of his fingertips to land precisely on your clit, the mixture of his spit and your cum making the delicious friction slippery. connie’s bottom lip disappears between his teeth while you attempt and fail to catch your breath while his fingers perfectly fit between your fat pussy lips. your legs instinctively close around him as he rubs faster which was apparently the last straw the way one of his built arms pushed one of your legs to your chest—fully exposing you again before he decides to start repeatedly slapping the cum out of your swollen cunt. “what i tell you? keep movin’ like you don’t love me abusin’ her.” you grow embarrassed when he calls you out while he watches you grow wetter, legs trembling every slap before you reach for his hand. “let me make connie baby cream, ‘m almost done.”

a/n: woke up with the head cannon that connie loves freshly waxed pussy…anyways happy monday!

Dilf!Toji took little jokes to heart.

Especially yours.

You couldn’t even see anymore. He was usually rough with you in bed but you made it worse because you called him ‘old man’ earlier today when he was driving too slow for your liking—earning you a groan in response. And he is aware that he has a few decades on him, but he’d rather call himself wise than old. Little did you know when you got home after that little joke he’d be tossing you around like a sex toy for hours—hair sweated out, pillows on the floor, sheets half off the bed, throw blanket kicked somewhere, whole bed scooting to the opposite side—and he’d still be going just to prove a point, throwing you a flashy smile every time he drags another sound out of you. He always thought you looked so cute like this, wrists cuffed behind your thighs, legs pressed together and in the air. He’d hold your ankles with one hand, long fluffy pink socks soft against his palm— your completely exposed and helpless while your two-toned, cum filled pussy is exposed to the cold air.

“You strugglin’ a lot on an old dick, princess—keep up.” he smirked, voice cocky and deep, and that’s what finally snapped something inside you. Your eyes rolled, head thrown back, mouth falling open with a sound you didn’t even recognize like you gave up on trying to hold back.

Toji laughed—laughed—because he knew he had you right where he wanted you.

Your pretty little body was done, twitching under him, thighs trembling in his grip, toes curling in those fluffy socks he kept bringing up just to tease you.

“Y’hear that?” he asked, hips snapping forward with a rough, wet clap that echoed off the walls. “That’s you. That’s your lil’ joke gettin’ fucked outta you.”

You whimpered, trying to twist your wrists, but you weren’t going anywhere. He had you folded like a pretzel, ankles pinned together in his fist, hole getting forced open enough for his cock to grind even deeper. You’re making noises like it’s your first time with him, not saying words but he somehow knows completely what you’re feeling.

His free hand slid down your stomach, fingers spreading your lips so he could watch the way his cock dragged through your mess. That stupid, crooked smile that only came out when he was ruining you.

“T-Toji—” you choked, but your voice broke on the consonant, tearing into a breathy moan when he slammed into you again, harder this time as you dug your fingers into your unnecessarily expensive comforter.

“Uh-huh,” he teased, “say it right, princess.” A sharp smack hits your ass—firm, deliberate causing your back to arch painfully off the mattress.

“Toji—Daddy, please—!”

He groaned like the sound fed him.“Better,” he rasped, “knew you’d get polite eventually.”

Your vision blurred again, tears slipping out the corners of your eyes. You could barely breathe, barely think—every thrust felt like he was knocking thoughts out of your head on purpose.

“Look at me,” he demanded. His fingers caught your jaw, forcing your dazed eyes up to meet his. He held your ankles even tighter, it almost hurt but that was the least of our worries.

“This old man,” he said with a slow, deep roll of his hips that made your entire body seize, “is still fuckin’ you stupid.”

You sobbed a little—too overwhelmed to care. And god, he ate it up.

“I knowww, Toji the worst, huh baby?” he cooed, pure mockery dripping from every syllable. His mouth brushed the wet spot on your cheek—part tears, part sweat—right before he slammed his hips forward again. The bedframe groaned along with you, your toes curled so hard your socks had slipped halfway off, dangling uselessly by your heels.

“Tell me how many times you came for me,” he murmured against your skin, breath hot, tone way too sweet for how hard he was fucking you, “and I’ll let you rest.”

You hated him. You loved him. You hated that you loved how mean he got.

And you almost broke—your throat tightening, chest shaking, because he was asking for something you physically couldn’t give. You didn’t know. You couldn’t know. Everything blurred together in one long, pulsing rush of heat and overstimulation.

“T-two…” you gasped, voice tiny, ruined. “Three?? I—I don’t know, ‘Ji—!”

A hiccup stuttered out of you, your vision cloudy, your legs trembling uncontrollably. “You’re bein’—hicc!—m-mean t’me!”

He grinned against your cheek, teeth flashing, eyes dark with satisfaction because he doesn’t even know the answer, just wanted to give you a sense of false hope.

“Daddy… mmhh! I—ahh! I can’t—!” you gasped as uou felt your umpteenth, body trembling, slick pooling down your thighs.

He slowed just enough to drag his mouth over your jawline, teasing, kissing, but still fucking you deep like be always did when you started cumming around him.

“There’s another one.”

𝜗𝜚 Toji Fushiguro

- dilf!toji

- bouncer!toji (intro)

𝜗𝜚 Connie Springer

- connie + freshly waxed pussy

𝜗𝜚 Onyankopon

- co-parent ony

- conceited

𝜗𝜚 𝐜𝐨-𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭!𝐨𝐧𝐲 (𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐲 !!!!! 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐬), 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 (𝐦𝐝𝐧𝐢), 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬-𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐟 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐩!𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐝

Your twenties had been all about peace.

Especially after your son was born, keeping yourself mentally healthy wasn’t a choice anymore—it was a responsibility. You’d made a home out of it—making sure everything felt alive. Soft R&B playing while you watered your plants that have your surrounding some color, eucalyptus in the shower, lavender oil on your wrists before bed, affirmations, staying connected with people you love. Little routines that reminded you that you were still yourself somewhere beneath the endless responsibilities.

But this week had been eating away at all that calm. You hadn’t felt this stressed in months, not following any of your routine. Your toddler was deep in the terrible twos, a lot of emotions in a tiny body that refused naps and at the same time was only upset because he was tired. Most days felt like you were running all over the place: your head throbbed, sleep deprived, felt like you were dissociating every second.

The weekend couldn’t come any slower but you’re so glad it did. Two whole days where you didn’t have to juggle schedules and deadlines. Just two days you weren’t responsible for keeping anyone alive but yourself.

Dropping your son off at Ony’s mom’s house was ritual, it never lost that comfortable feeling. You stepped inside her house after taking him out of the car seat, gave her a quick hug and a soft, “How are you?” while your child darted off to play. Ony was in the kitchen grabbing a bottle of water, just ‘coincidentally’ there to help his mom rearrange the living room. His eyes lingered on you like he couldn’t help himself—opening his big arms for a hug after you and his mom were done eachother’s ears off. The moment he opened his arms to you, you didn’t hesitate—stepped up and wrapped your arms around his neck, heels of your feet slightly off the ground. He pulled you in for a tight hug, letting you melt into him for a second. As you held him—both of you swaying side to side in sync—you launched into a brief vent about how stressed you’d been lately, how badly you needed a break, and he just attentively listened, letting you exhale. He whispered in your ear something reminding you how important it is to take care of yourself.

As soon as you got home and shut your front door, you never slid into a bathtub so fast in your life—lights dim, candles lit, finally getting to journal in your notebook that was basically collecting dust. It all felt like a breath of fresh air, your shoulders finally dropping after what feels like years while the steaming warm water surrounded your body.

As soon as you stepped out of the bath, your skin glistening and scented with your too expensive body wash, you massaged oil into your body, your braids catching the light from the freshly applied jojoba oil. And even though you’d tackled everything on your little to-do list—went to the gym for the first time in a while, took a long bath, shaved, cleaned all of kids toys all over your living room floor, folded the laundry that had been piling up, rewatched a season of your guilty pleasure reality tv show, and even organized your snack drawer that you devoured during your last cycle—you still felt something missing. All the self-care in the world had eased most of your stress, calmed your blood pressure, but there was a low, insistent voice that you something else in the back of your head you couldn’t ignore.

You put your through blanket over your body. The TV playing low, a half-empty home-made matcha on the coffee table, your phone somewhere under a throw pillow, no child screaming, quiet—the peace you were craving.

Still, something wasn’t fully satisfied. You were supposed to feel content by now. But your mind kept wandering, eyes flicking to your phone like it owed you something.

It would be so much better if you had some dick.

You hated that thought, but it sat unmoving, like it wouldn’t stop until you had some. There was no fighting it even though this was supposed to be your alone time. And obviously, your brain skipped straight to Ony.

You bit your lip, smiling before you even realized you were doing it.

He probably still over there helping his mama move furniture, you told yourself, scrolling aimlessly now, pretending you weren’t checking to see if he’d called you.

Right on cue, your phone buzzed.

“You home?”

You blinked at the screen for a second before typing back, thumbs hesitating like you weren’t already grinning.

“yeah, why?”

He took a second before replying. Watching the three dots disappear and pop back up twice.

“Left my jacket in your trunk last time. You already laying down?”

There was no jacket in your trunk. You’d just been in there grabbing your son’s overnight bag—you knew that. But you also knew what that text really meant.

“no, come get it.”

inspo inspo inspo

The reality show you couldn’t care less about right now played in the back while you were bouncing on his dick like it owed you something, one hand braced against his stomach to steady yourself. He’d told you “take all you want, mama”— and you took it serious. A week without Ony had you moving like a completely different person, riding is your least favorite but from the outside looking in—you would’ve thought it was your favorite position. Rounds worth of strings of cum connecting the two of you every time you pulled up and sank back down, toes curling into the soft cushion.

That little rose toy he swore he didn’t like you using on your own was now pressed between you, buzzing right on your puffy clit in little, perfect circle. The hum syncing up with the rhythm you set, every slurred whisper of his name dragging from your lips. Pussy squeezing him tight like she wanted to be full with his big girthy cock forever.

“Hollon, you makin’ me—” Ony suddenly dug his fingers into the fat of your hips, stopping you for the third time but your body kept trying to bounce anyways.

“P-pa, stop running and let me—cummm—pleasepleaseplease mhhphh! let me give you this pussy,” you whined in fustration while you grind your hips, desperate for any type of friction. You would’ve been so embarrassed if you seen yourself from Ony’s point of view—a mess. Twisted face half covered with your hair but not covered enough to hide the tears rolling down your face.

“You gettin’ greedy,” Ony growled, letting go of your hips with a slap on your bouncing ass. Couldn’t even be bother to say one singular word because he knows your brain wasn’t in anything but how he was so deep in your stomach. “Horny ass girl,” he mumbled before assisting you to bounce your ass on him faster. The plap, plap, plap sounds your sticky pussy was making filling the air again “missed daddy inside me so—f-fuckin’—bad—“ you breathed, more to yourself than him.

You were almost collapsing at this point but refused to let up, free hand gripping the arm of the couch behind Ony’s head making your soft, bouncy mounds exactly eye level. Him putting one of your sensitive brown nipples in his warm mouth made you cum immediately—hard. It felt like an out of body experience, chills running down your spine as whole body let go—body seizing on top of him, gasping for air you feel all of that left-over stress leaving you.

Before you could come down from the high, Ony flipped you onto your back like you it was nothing, his hand wrapping around your throat just enough to hold you still while he folded you into the couch. The couch creaked under both of you.

“Y’got one more nut in you?” he asked even though he already knew the answer.

You nodded fast, breathless—more out of instinct than control. “Y-yeah,” you managed, the word tumbling out on a shaky whimper. Your body was limp, trembling from the last orgasm, but your mind betrayed it—craving more of how he filled every inch of you. You couldn’t move, couldn’t think past the heat pooling low in your stomach, and still, your legs spread as wide as they can.

𝜗𝜚 𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫!𝐭𝐨𝐣𝐢 𝐱 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲-𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞/𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨

𝜗𝜚 𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩, 𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐩 (𝐭𝐨𝐣𝐢 𝐦𝐢𝐝-𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝟑𝟎’𝐬), 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 (𝐦𝐝𝐧𝐢)

You’d had the biggest crush on Toji for a while.

Not the “cute smile” kind of crush—the kind that made your heart pump faster every time he looked down at you, or when his cologne hit you as you walked past. Nobody else really tried to pursue him; he seemed too closed off for that. But you loved the chase. Every time you went out with your friends, you’d “recommend” going to a certain spot, pretending you just liked it there—knowing full well the real reason was that you wanted to see Toji.

And no, it wasn’t just to get in faster or for free—though, not gonna lie, he did let you slip past the line now every time he caught your eye. You didn’t need it. You just chased him because liked him. You weren’t sure exactly what it was you liked when you first seen him, because he would usually only talk to the other bouncers, but something about him drew you in.

It wasn’t like you two were strangers. It took a little chasing, but you weren’t. You’d been to his place a few times—his dog loved you immediately, circling your feet every time you came home with him or woke up at his place. He kept little things of yours around, too: the lip gloss you left behind,, or the time he sent a mirror selfie after you texted “send me a picture, miss youuu” and seen your favorite lashes still stuck to his bathroom mirror. Sometimes you brought him street tacos on his shift because that was all that would be open. Other times, he’d leave snacks in his car for you, knowing you’d stumble out of the club drunk, half-speaking nonsense, hungry, and he’d drive you home while you got crumbs in his seat like it was the most normal thing in the world.

The bartenders teased him about it all the time. “Toji, I haven’t seen your lil’ girlfriend in a while.” He just gave them the sharpest side eye and kept moving. To be fair, you guys were terrible at hiding that you were at least familiar with each other.

You barely stepped inside the club when his voice cut through the music, low and rough.

“Go grab the cigarettes from my car, pretty,” Toji called, one hand subtly holding back the line that had started inching forward, the other handing you the keys in his pocket. “Don’t let nobody talk t’you.”

You smiled at his words as if the warning barely registered. “I’m grown, Toji,” you shot back, voice half-joking but firm, making sure he knew you could handle yourself, even at nearly midnight.

He let out a low hum, eyes flicking you up and down as you walked past the crowd. Heels clicking, jeans tight on your ass, hugging your curves just right, and you swayed your hips the way you always did when you wanted him to notice—unapologetic. He grunted almost inaudibly, returning to controlling the line.

It was fun, yeah. But sometimes, you hated that you weren’t really together together.

Toji was attractive—everybody knew that—and you weren’t the first girl to ever flirt with him. Other people sometimes tried, though he rarely entertained it. But you never got used to it. When you saw some drunk girl get a little too close—touching his arm, telling him how good your man looked, drunk from how much she’d been bar-hopping—you couldn’t help but get jealous. Distant. You couldn’t even express it, you weren’t even together. Still, something stiffened inside you as you watched, pretending your friends’ conversation was more interesting than it actually was. Not even touching your drink, just sober and irritated, especially when you caught him mouthing a quiet “thank you” at her, as if she’d earned some tiny approval from him.

He noticed almost immediately. Normally, you’d be standing pretty next to him, lingering while he let people in, laughing, teasing him while he worked like you always did. Tonight, though, you hadn’t come by once. When he was having a smoke break, he was just about to call you over, thumb hovering over your name on the screen, when you started slipping toward the exit, leaving a little too early for it to feel normal, heels clicking sharper than usual against the floor.

He caught sight of your Uber request as you walked past him, glowing bright on your phone, and raised an eyebrow. You never called your own ride—you always left with him. He took a slow drag from his cigarette, smoke curling around him, and flicked ash to the ground. “Where you think you goin’?” he asked when you whipped your head around.

You froze, whipping your head back toward your phone to check the ETA. “Worry about your lil’ friend, Toji. I already called my Uber,” you said quietly, trying to sound like it didn’t bother you.

His eyes narrowed slightly, smoke drifting between you, amusement in his gaze. “C’mere,” he said, before putting the cigarette out. “I don’t know why you thought you were gettin’ in it. That’s not what we do.”

It wasn’t long before you and Toji were in the back of his car, your panties were discarded somewhere on the trucks floor, your body trembling under him as he devoured you, lips and tongue sloppily working over your swollen clit like he was trying to suck the days worth of attitude—though it hadn’t even fully started—right out of you. Spreading your chubby pussy then spitting right on the sensitive nub before slurping it right up. His stubble grazed your thighs, sending sparks of heat and shivers through your core. The bottom of your dress bunched up as you ground your hips against him, desperate for every inch of attention he gave.

“Daddy—shiiiit!—you gotta go back to t-the li—fuuck!” Your hand tangled in his black hair with slight strands of gray as he plunged his tongue into you, groaning at the taste of you. Hearts fluttered behind your eyes as you let yourself melt under him, knowing you shouldn’t have even doubted him in the first place.

© 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐅𝐀𝐘𝐄. 2025.

pt. 2

𝜗𝜚 𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟!𝐨𝐧𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐨𝐩𝐚𝐧, 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 (𝐦𝐝𝐧𝐢), 𝐩!𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐝, 𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩, 𝐜𝐥𝐢𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲, 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐤, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐢𝐪𝐮𝐨𝐫, 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐚𝐩𝐚.

visual

Ony was really planning on lecturing the whole ride home when you called him to come pick you up—not just because you were drunk, it’s becsuse you’d been slacking lately. He sighed when he answered the phone, your voice slurring but still understandable enough for him to hear you the first time.

He was quiet at first, but that silence wasn’t peace—it was tense. One hand on the wheel, the other resting heavy on your thigh almost immediately after you stumbled in the car like it belonged there, his thumb tapping like he was counting down before he snapped.

The second you slid into the passenger seat, the strong smell of liquor clinging to your skin, you leaned across the console with a sloppy grin. “Hiii, papa,” you dragged the syllable out, plump lips puckered as you tried to press a kiss to his lips. Your words were all syrupy and sweet, but your body was clumsy, damn near falling into his lap. Onyankopon caught you with one hand on your shoulder, jaw tight. “Sit back.” His voice was flat, firm, as he guided you into the seat like you were a child who couldn’t stay still. You back hit the cold leather as you looked at him, “Why you dont wan’ kiss m—“

“You not actin’ right.” he cut you off, shifting gears and putting his foot on the gas. You didn’t even question it, the corners of your glossed lips dipped into a frown as you turned your head to look out the window. That look he always caught you making when he wasn’t kissing your ass.

He looked over at you real quick before putting his eyes back on the road. “You out here actin’ like you grown, but can’t handle your responsibilities. Think everything a joke till it’s not. Skipping class, not pickin’ up when I call, drinkin’ like you ain’t got shit to do tomorrow…you think that’s responsible? That’s childish, mama. I ain’t raise no little ass girl, I got a woman sittin’ next to me, right?”

You and Ony had only been dating for four-ish years, and he always said that to you when you needed to be checked—even though he’s just a few years older than you. Still, he loved reminding you how disorganized and all over the place you were before him, like he took pride in being the one who steadied you.

As much as you shouldn’t, you always got turned on when he talked to you like this. When you were sober, you usually would hide it and let him lecture you but since you’re not—you weren’t hiding it as well. The fact that you were already thinking about him while you were out wasn’t helping at all.

You slouched in the passenger seat, hiccuping softly, braids falling across your face. “Mmm… you alwaaays so serious,” you murmured, tilting your head just enough to lock eyes with him. Your voice was thick with the shots you took before you left.

Without warning, you shifted in the seat, turning your body toward him. Your hand reached to drag slow across his chest, down his torso, fingers pressing into him like you needed something to hold onto. He always looked good but he looks extra good tonight for some reason, you just wanted to be in his skin.

“…you don’t wanna love on me?” you slurred, lips curling into a drunk grin. “You look s’good right now. I was thinkin’ ’bout you the whooole time… look.”

You fully turned to him so your back was to the door, spread your legs, slid your dress up over your thighs, bare pussy on display, slick already glistening, dripping down your entrance.

Ony’s grip on the wheel twitched when he seen you just spread yourself open without a second thought while he was driving. He was a little taken-aback because you didn’t even hesitate to expose yourself to him in a public space, which was unlike you. It was also a late Saturday night so it’s not like there was nobody on the road, you just didn’t give a fuck.

“You—” he mumbled as he stared at your drooling pussy, visibly pulsing like it was begging for him before he even touched you. His hand dragging down his face before it landed heavy on your inner thigh, palm caressing your skin, your bottom lip tugged between your teeth as you watched his hand moving dangerously close to where you need him. “You sittin’ here wet as fuck while i’m tryna talk to you.”

But instead of pulling away, his thumb pressed down, lazily circling your clit. The wheel stayed steady in his other hand, but his voice dropped lower, teeth gritted. “Got me riskin’ our life ‘cause you don’t know how to behave.” The sudden stimulation you’ve been waiting for all night made you let out a soft moan, close your eyes and your head loll back, hitting the tinted window behind you.

Ony’s thumb dipped lower, brushing against the wetness pooling at your entrance, then slid back up in a slow, calculated stroke. Soft, breathy moans spilling from your lips, louder this time, messy and unrestrained.

“You wasn’t paying attention to shit I said when you sat your ass in here. You need to listen to me,” he demanded, voice firm, even while his thumb worked your clit slow, steady, making your thigh tremble uncontrollably. Your nails dug into the leather seat, your pussy clenching around nothing.

“…I ammm papa,” you breathed, voice breaking into a whine, head tipping back against the window, eyes glassy and unfocused, your mind hazy with nothing but him.

Ony’s lips curved into the smallest smirk, like he had heard something funny. “Mhm…you always say that when I’m makin’ you feel good. You not listenin’.”

You weren’t, you could only look down at his fingers as gradually sped up, shivering, chest rising and falling in ragged breaths.

“Y-yeaahhh I ammm… ohhh fffuck…” you moaned, your back arching off the door behind you.

The streetlights flashed past the windshield, casting sharp shadows over his face as he drove like it was nothing, smooth and steady, yet his pace never faltered.

His thumb pressed tighter, sliding down again to gather more of your slick before dragging it back up, spreading it slow over your swollen clit. He started shaking his head, eyes locked on the road, knuckles flexing on the wheel.

Your body jolted at the sharper stroke, thighs twitching, a high-pitched whimper slipping out before you could bite it back. “P-please, I am, I’m listenin’, I swear—”

“No,” he cut you off, voice steady but edged with heat. “You hearin’ me, but you not takin’ it in. Always gotta have shit my way before you learn.” His words were calm, but the pressure of his thumb contradicted every ounce of patience in his tone, circling faster, harder, dragging sounds out of you that filled the car louder than the engine.

Your hands flying to his forearm, clinging like you needed him to slow down, but your hips betrayed you—grinding, chasing more of what he gave. Your voice cracked around a moan, incoherent.

Ony’s had a look in his eyes like he was contemplating stopping the car in the middle of the street and just fucking you right there as you were moaning his name like it’s all you knew. Your fluids dripping down his seat, moans spilling out with no rhythm or restraint. He tried to keep it light to keep his focus on the road, but the sound of you, the heat rolling off your body, the way you were damn near crying for him—it pushed him over that line.

“Man, fuck this…” he growled under his breath, his hand left the wheel for half a second, snapping your thighs open wider before two of his thick fingers slid inside you without warning. The wet squelch filled the car, your gasp ripping through the air, sharp and needy.

Your body jerked, nails clawing deeper at the leather, eyes rolling back as your walls clenched tight around him. “Ohnnnyyy—ahhh! Ohmygod—”

Ony started dragging it out, fucking you on his fingers slow, thumb barely grazing your clit just enough to keep you twitching but not enough to push you over. Your little whines and the way your hips chased his hand had him twitching in his pants, but he kept that same steady pace—until he felt your walls start to grip down around him. That’s when he switched it up.

“Mhm, greedy ass pussy—tryna milk my fingers like it’s dick.” his tone covered in heat, almost a growl as his fingers drove into you harder, faster, curling with every pump, thumb pressing into your clit in rough, tight circles. The sloppy sounds of your pussy filled the car, wetness spilling down his knuckles, making the leather under you damp. The sudden pace had you crying out, body jumping, thighs clamping around his wrist as cream started coating his fingers thick. “Waitwaitwait!… I’m… I’m gonna… ohhh, shiiittt…!” you cried as your eyebrows furrowed, eyes rolling back.

“Yeah, there you go,” he grunted, never slowing down while you gushed around him, messy and loud, your release dripping down to his palm. Your head fell back, mouth open on a broken moan, body jerking helplessly as he worked you through it, thumb grinding mercilessly into your clit until you were damn near sobbing, shaking under his hand.

Ony’s smirk tuned into a lazy smile as he looked at the way your legs still twitched after he slowed. He eased his fingers out slow, coated in creamy release, before suddenly shoving them in your mouth while you were try to catch your breath.

His fingers stayed in your mouth, heavy on your tongue while you sucked them clean, eyes hazy and cheeks hollowing around his knuckles. The taste of yourself coated your tongue, making your thighs press tight together as he drove like nothing was happening.

The car slowed to a stop at a red light. Ony finally dragged his fingers from between your lips, slick glistening in the passing glow of the streetlamps.

“Sit up,” he ordered, voice low and rough. His hand curled in a lazy ‘come here’ motion.

You obeyed instantly, chest rising fast as you pushed yourself off the window. He wrapped his fingers around your throat, his still-wet fingers cold against your skin.

The pressure made your breath hitch, but before you could melt all the way into it, Ony leaned in, catching your mouth in a deep kiss. His tongue slid past your lips, tasting the sweetness of your slick still lingering on your tongue, swallowing the soft whimper that left your throat.

The glow turned green, and he pulled back, dragging a thumb slow over your spit slicked plump bottom lip. “Messy ass girl. Keep it together till we get home,” he uttered, the tone in his voice let you know that he wasn’t just gonna let you doze off until the morning.

𝐧𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭. please don’t repost, screenshot, feed to ai or claim my work as your own.

𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐲𝐥𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞. my writing is not for minors whatsoever. i cannot control what anyone reads but i would appreciate if minors don’t read my content. if i see you’re a minor interacting with me you will get blocked. on that note, i write exactly how I want to write. if you don’t like my style, that’s perfectly fine—but don’t waste your time or mine. please block and move on.

𝐧𝐨 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤. don’t compare my fics to others or tell me “this character wouldn’t do/say that.” i don’t care, go ahead & write what you want to see if it bothers you.

𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐨 𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐬. i do take req, im also aware its all fiction, however, i have my boundaries. there are certain kinks/topics i won’t touch—such as incest, extreme bodily fluids, raceplay, age play, writing with underage characters (aged up or not, still weird to me), cnc, any obviously morally disgusting material.