Pair: Black male x Black female reader
Genre: established relationship, black romance, smut
Warning: 18+, strong language, power dynamics, dirty talk, breathplay, rough, praise k!nk, fingering, creamie, overstimulation, etc.
Summary: You snuck out of bed to make breakfast. He woke up hungry — just not for food.
A little teasing turns into a full-body reminder of who you belong to. Kitchen counter. Over the arm of the couch. On the couch. Again. And again.
You snuck out of the bed, brushing your teeth and rushing through your skincare routine so that you don’t wake him.
As you were scrambling eggs—your sausage and biscuits almost done in the oven when you could feel him creeping up on you—heavy feet passing the ground carefully, as if he wanted you to know he’s coming.
He kissed your shoulder gently, sending a shiver up your spine aching for his touch. “Mornin’ “ he said, voice deep with sleep dripping like honey that sweetened what was already stirring between your legs.
“Mornin’ darlin’ “ you said just above a whisper. A silent moment passed of his front flushed against your back, large frame wrapped around your waist, head buried in your neck, engulfing you in an embrace that you never wanted to leave.
“ Ion appreciate waking up in the bed without you in it”, his breath hot against your neck.
“ I…I figured you’d be hungry”, you breathed.
“I got sum I can eat right here”, he kissed on your neck.
You giggled lightly, trying to disguise the heat rising under your skin, as he squeezed your waist.
“Baby I’m almost done, just give me a min”, he groaned in your neck—placing a kiss just below your chin.
“Ight” he said slowly pulling away, walking back into the room. You immediately missed the warmth of his body on your back.
Quickly finishing everything & turning the stove off. You made y’alls plate, bending over to properly organize the dishes in the dishwasher.
He walked up grabbing your hips pulling them to his pelvis, laying a snack on your ass as you gasped—taken aback & aroused.
You popped his hand, “you needa stop playing!!” you shouted playfully.
He caught you by your waist, pulling you into his chest.
“Uh uh, that’s my get back for sneakin’ out the bed.”
“I didn’t sneak anywhere”, you said matter of factly.
Towering over you he slid his right hand up from your hip up to the small of your back, sending a shiver up your spine that you hadn’t realized manifested physically—causing you to flinch in his grip.
“Mhm you must be sensitive from last night”, he chuckles darkly.
You stiffened, feeling the pounding pulse between your legs.
“You flinchin’ every time a nigga touch you, like you scared or sum”, displaying that devilish grin that melted the fake attitude your put on.
“Boy move, I ain’t scared of no one but God”, you said hurriedly busying yourself around the kitchen to distract yourself.
His eyes tracked you from the sink to the fridge, you couldn’t take it anymore. “The fuck are your starin’ at?”, you said like he was aggravating your last nerve—he was truly disturbing the peace in your nervous system, your body betraying you under his gaze.
You always loved the way he looked at you, with such love and desire, like he needed you in his veins.
This was darker, you managed to take a lighthearted moment and push him too far.
Despite the pitbull like, stoic, handsome face he was blessed with, he was very respectful and kind.
Therefore he didn’t take disrespect well, from anybody—especially his bratty younger girlfriend who just swore she knew everything.
“The fuck did you just say to me”, he stated—clearly not a question.
He knew that look in your eyes as you tried to conceal the smirk pulling at your thick lips—that he would surely stuff if you kept this up.
“And befo’ you answa that, just remember you already owe me darlin’ “, he said lowly as he backed you into the counter.
He felt bigger—biceps cornering you, jaw tight, deep brown eyes daring you to test him.
“Ya’ mama ain’t ever told you its rude to stare?”, you said—looking dead in those dark alluring orbs.
Because he was a couple years older he often tried to play you like a lil girl, but he wouldn’t be with you if that were true.
His head fell as he laughed sarcastically—I’m finna fuck this girl up—forcfully putting you on the counter and encapsulating your lips in a passionate kiss.
You fought the urge to open your hips—not fully accepting him and he knew it.
He pulled back, licking his lips before peppering kisses across you jawline and down your neck. “Open up for me pretty”, massaging lazy circles on your thighs making their way up his extra large shirt that you had slept in.
His touch ignited a fire in you that you couldn’t contain. He was so gentle, applying the perfect amount of pressure in all the right places.
You opened your legs—exposing your bare heat.
Slick with your juices, you could no longer hide your yearning for him and his love.
Pulling his shirt over your head, he pulled you flush to him with his hand gently wrapped around your neck—chest to chest with just his basketball shorts standing between you and euphoria.
You wrapped your arms around his neck, arching into him, wanting more of him.
“Always runnin’ that damn mouth”, he said on your lips and his right hand began rubbing circles on the button that he knows will set you off.
HIs left arm holding you in place, hips spread wide across his—completely at his mercy, which is exactly where he wanted you.
“The fuck am I starin’ at?”, he chuckled darkly, befuddled how you could ever let that come out of your mouth.
“That was cute, but I always get what I’m owed”, applying enough pressure to make your eyes roll.
He watched intently as you ground your hips in rhythm with his hand—aching for more.
He finally dipped his middle and ring fingers in knuckle deep, “you feel that? that’s me collecting on every slick comment you made”, curling up into that spot that made you scream his name. All while his thumb applies steady pressure to your pearl.
Gripping his bicep as your man coaxed you into the first of what you feared would be many orgasms today—you wrapped your legs around his waist pulling him in close to prevent his hand from diving in your heat at such a splintering pace.
Biting onto his shoulder to hide your moans.
“Uh uh, don’t hide now…I wanna hear it”, feeling your walls squeezing his digits.
“Ohhhh my…fuckkkk’, you dragged.
“Mhm, look at you making a mess”, he smirked, capturing your lips again—you were moaning right in his mouth as his tongue explored on its own.
“Tell me when you wanna cum ”
“Baby I-“, he hummed on your lips as you stumbled over your words.
“I got you baby, give it to me”, scratching at his arms you screamed coming undone on his hand—unrelentingly penetrating you through your high.
You were still trembling when he lifted you off the counter, your bare thighs clinging to his torso like a second skin.
His lips found your neck again as he carried you effortlessly through the apartment, your head buried in his shoulder, legs wrapped around his waist.
The way he moved said everything—this wasn’t over.
He tossed you down over the arm of the couch like a prize he’d already won, your body folding just the way he liked.
You barely had time to catch your breath before he yanked your hips back.
You waited in anticipation as he quickly came out of his shorts, positioning you where he wanted—where you needed to be.
He rubbed along your rear, hips, and lower back—rubbing his full length against your heat, smearing your slick all around your core, teasing you in the worst way.
You pushed back on him—hornily trying to get him deep in your folds.
"Who you belong to?”, he asked laying a hard smack to your ass—barely pushing in with his mushroom tip.
You gasped, barely able to respond through your shallow breath.
"I'm yours”, you barely breathed out.
“Say it again”, slowly stretching you out.
“I’m yours, baby… all yours."
A guttural groan rumbled through his chest as you rammed his full length in you.
He gripped your hips tighter, his pace punishing—demanding every last ounce of submission from you.
"Give it to me or I'ma fuck it outta you."
The slap of skin echoed through the room, in rhythm with your whimpers and his ragged breath.
You were desperate now—reaching for anything to stabilize yourself: the cushions, a pillow, his forearm, your own damn breath—but he gave you no room to breathe, no room to think.
“Allat shit talkin’, and here you are… beggin’ me to ruin you.”
His hand found your throat again, not to choke but to own—like a leash holding you right on the edge.
You cried out, face pressed into the couch, feeling him hit that devastating spot over and over.
Your moans weren’t just loud—they were pleas, pulled from the very center of your being.
You collapsed forward, boneless, breathless, but he wasn’t done—not even close.
He flipped you like you weighed nothing, placing you flat on your back across the length of the couch, pulling your hips back into his.
He kissed your temple gently—too gently for what was coming next.
“In me…fuck baby I want it”, biting his lip he tilted your chin up to look in your eyes.
“Y/N don’t say that”—ragged breaths, sloppy strokes, he was slowly losing his control.
“You can’t say that…I’ll fill your ass up”, kissing up his jaw to his ear, you whispered, “cum in your pussy daddy”.
You felt him twitch inside you—giving in he laid his full weight on you, snaking his hands around your waist to hug you in close—laying his head on your shoulder.
Dragging your nails up across his broad shoulders and up his back, left hand massing the nape of his neck, right hand steadying yourself against his unforgiving strokes.
He could feel you pushing on his shoulder—attempting to create some space so you could take advantage of him being silly putty in your hands.
He pulled your hips up into his, as his pelvis was attacking yours—causing tears to well up in your eyes from his tip kissing your spot.
“Ain’t no runnin’ from me pretty girl”, he moaned low and deep.
“You stuck with me and I ain’t goin’ nowhere”, he said lovingly in your ear making your cry his name.
You arched into him—trying to find relieve some of the pressure in the pit of your stomach— his palm pressed you flat so you could feel all of him.
“Fuck ma, you so damn wet…this pretty pussy was made just for me”, you couldn’t hear anything anymore, incapable of stringing words together even if you could.
He leaned back, looking down on your fucked out expression—quickly closing his eyes to keep from releasing in that moment.
“Look at me baby”, you opened your eyes low to see him basically drooling over your full breast.
Spitting right on your nipple, rolling it in his fingers, and watching your face contort as he took over your body—making sure this last nut was the one that knocked all the air out your lungs.
You put your hand on his belly, “daddy…I…I can’t take it”, you breathed out barely above a whisper.
“You so close mama, I can feel it”, he said slapping your breast with just enough force to send you into pure ecstasy.
“And I’m right behind you pretty”, he said.
You could feel his muscles tighten up, signaling he was close.
“Give it to me daddy, fuck…I can take it”, he whimpered—releasing his desire for control, chasing his own pleasure.
“I…I’m about to…”, you cried in a sea of curses and repeatedly moaning his name.
Your vision blurred, your mind lost to nothing but the sound of him moaning your name like a sacred vow.
Your back arched violently, mouth opened in a silent scream as your orgasm hit like a freight train.
He groaned into your skin, hips stuttering as he spilled into you, clutching you close like he’d die if he let go.
You didn’t even realize you’d fallen asleep until you felt him shifting beneath you, his deep chuckle vibrating against your cheek still pressed to his chest.
The warmth between your legs ached in the sweetest way—day two of soreness, courtesy of him and his inability to behave.
But you weren’t mad. Not even close.
Your body was limp, spent, flushed and folded over his lap just where he’d left you.
He never even made it off the couch.
The plates were still in the kitchen—right where you’d left them.
The biscuits? Probably cold.
The only thing that got served this morning was you, and judging by the way you couldn’t even lift your head, he’d cleaned his plate.
“Mmhm. Look atchu,” he said softly, chuckling again as he gently cleaned you up with a warm towel he must’ve grabbed at some point—because God knows you didn’t feel him move.
You winced as he dabbed between your legs, making another little sound that made him smirk.
“Sore again?” he teased, that cocky grin painted across his face.
“Don’t flatter yourself,” you mumbled, too weak to lie convincingly.
He knew better. You both knew better.
He kissed your forehead, sliding his oversized shirt back over your shoulders and pulling it down gently, careful not to wake the little moan you were fighting in your throat.
Then he threw on his basketball shorts again, sat back down, and pulled you into his lap like you weighed nothing.
Blanket thrown lazily over your bodies, he balanced the plate of food on one knee, the remote in the other hand.
You curled against him, eyes fluttering closed again, not a single care in the world. Bills? Work? Life? Whatever.
Right now all that mattered was the way he held you like you were the most important thing in the room—because to him, you were.
“You gon’ eat?” he asked, offering a fork of your cold eggs near your lips.
You turned your head and smiled lazily into his chest. “Mm-mm. Already full.”
He laughed again, kissing your temple.
