welcome to the garden

like the time you went to go see a play together. you were so tired from work, but reassured him that you wanted to go, especially because you’d already bought the tickets the week before.

of course, you fell asleep halfway through. ony didn’t really think you were missing out on much, anyway. the next one would be better, so in the meantime, he gently directed your head to rest on his shoulder. he rubbed your nape to keep you soothed and kissed your forehead whenever he felt the urge.

he knew the couple behind him was muttering about y’all. something about theatre etiquette and respect, which he absolutely understood. but you were towards the back of the theatre and not bothering anyone, and they were the ones audibly talking. one nasty look over the shoulder shut them the hell up.

or another time when you were at the park for a free concert series. it was a beautiful day out, not too hot with a nice breeze. everyone had their blankets and chairs out to watch the performers, drinks in their hands and food in their laps.

one of the bands started to play your song, and you immediately knew what was about to happen. you playfully fought him as he tried to pull you up into his arms, but ultimately lost. everyone watched with smiling faces as the two of you danced and sang together. some couples even followed suit.

and of course there are times where you have to tell him to chill out. whenever you look too damn good in the back of the club, lights illuminating you like some siren of the sea. it’s so easy for ony to get captivated with kwn playing in the background and the haze he’s feeling from drinking.

he’ll box you in with his arms on either side of your body, press himself against you so you can feel just how affected he is, and let his head rest on your shoulder while he presses wet kisses to your skin.

“why you look so fuckin’ good right now, huh? ass all out like you want me to lose my decorum.”

“you don’t have decorum, ony.”

“fuckin’ right. come to the bathroom real quick.”

“baby, I’m not about to let you fuck me in some nasty ass club.”

“lemme eat that pussy then.”

“ony!”

you always end up compromising. no bathroom sex ever, but if the two of you slip out a lil early, no one’s mad. ony has to keep his hands to himself the whole ride home and if he says anything inappropriate, he has to apologize to the driver immediately.

but when you get home and there’s no one around to interrupt? good luck to you, girl.

˚₊‧꒰ა ✦ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

“why you’n want me to show love to you, huh? why you bein’ like that?” ony grunts. he’s on you, hand wrapped around your throat and voice deep in your ear. he’s working his hips slow, matching the song in the background.

it’s torture.

god, he’s so thick and deep in you. your toes curl with every thrust, moans escaping you every time his hips push into yours, and you’re just gushing. you can both hear your wetness over the music and it makes you hot with arousal.

“wanna be on you all the time,” he murmurs, nuzzling into your neck. the way you cradle the back of his head has his eyes falling shut. “wanna be damn near in yo skin but you keep pushin’ me back like you ain’t mine. you’n like me no more?”

“that’s…” you start breathily, another moan tumbling from your lips. he’s just all in your space, sucking marks on your body and fucking you without a care in the world. obviously you fucking love him. “that’s not iiiit, ony. you go too far if I don’t- fuck- if I don’t stop you.”

he doesn’t like those words. too far? he’s got a ring in his desk right now ready to make you his forever and you think he can take it too far? nah, he’s gone take it to hell. “so you want me to stop, huh? that what you want?”

when his hips start to slow, you’re almost ashamed of how upset you get. “all I wanna do is love on you, baby. but if you want me to stop, I’ll stop.”

“don’t fucking stop, please,” you groan and rake your nails down his back. ony licks his lips at the feel of your legs hugging around his waist. “that’s not what I meant, that’s not what I meant.”

the plan was to be mean, pull out and make you play with that pretty pussy until you apologized enough to his standards. but fuck, the way you clench around him like you just can’t bear to let him leave the depths of you have him melting. he’s no fucking good when it comes to you.

ony groans deep, hand gently squeezing your neck for a moment. thick, warm lips meet yours in a heated kiss as he starts to thrust into your wet heat again. “oughta make you beg for it. been so mean to me, baby, you know I always wanna be deep in my pussy.”

you squeal as he starts to put his weight into his thrusts, pressing into you deeper than you could’ve thought you’d be able to take. it feels so damn good, like he’s reaching your soul. you welcome it with open arms, back arching from the bed.

“but I love my lady too much,” he pants. you feel his body shift and suddenly he’s far enough for you to meet those pretty brown eyes of his but still feel his breath on your skin. his gaze is clouded and you swear you can see every bit of love he has for you in them.

”are you sure you’n wanna wear a mask?” ony grumbles, watching you shuffle through earring options. you raise one to your ear, shake your head, and drop them back into your jewelry box. you try another and make a ‘meh’ face before dropping it into the ‘maybe’ pile. it’s a whole process, and he honestly enjoys watching it.

”I’m fine, ony. I need to be able to connect with people as much as I can so I can get that money,” you laugh softly. he’s always conscious of your health, maybe more than you sometimes, and it’s sweet. you turn and show him your ‘maybe’ earrings as you talk, wanting his input. “this is a really big event, and I have to do everything to capture their investment interest. this is a million dollar smile, you know.”

you’re getting all dolled up to convince people to spend what could be hundreds of thousands of dollars. you look so so pretty, but ony knows you’re about to be around way too many people. whenever something like this happens and you don’t prepare fully, you get sick to some degree. whether a cold or a full blown flu, it never fails.

somehow, though, you’re surprised every time.

”of course I know. and that’d be fine if you didn’t have a weaker immune system,” he mumbles. he nods towards the pair he likes the best and watches as you put them on. you can feel his hands settle on your hips, pulling you back to meet his chest with a gentle touch. “your job is important, but so is your health. you’ll get sick, baby.”

”yeah, yeah, yeah. I’ll be sick with a big ass commission.” you turn in his arms and give him a smile, resting your hands on his biceps. “I’m a big girl, ony. I’ll be fine, especially since I’ll be taking some well-deserved pto after. you just worry about me too much.”

“it’s my job,” he mumbles. he bends to press a kiss to your forehead and then your lips, holding you close to him to murmur quietly. “I’m supposed worry about yo ass. my woman makes good money, but sometimes you don’t pour into yourself like you pour into your job. I’m just remindin’ you, boss lady.”

with a roll of your eyes, you kiss him once more before stepping away to grab a pair of heels. “hi, pot, I’m kettle. remember when you were doing the same thing but worse? yeah, I don’t wanna hear it. almost worked yourself to death.”

“learn from my mistakes, baby,” he teases, smiling as he watches you hop to slide your shoes on. he steps forward and holds his hand out so you can use him for balance, eyes trailing over your outfit. “beautiful fiancee of mine.”

you smile at the compliment, always loving the reminder that the two of you are engaged now. “well, I won’t say you’re wrong. I might have a lil cough when I come home, but I should be fine. I’ll drink a bunch of water and take my vitamins, okay?”

ony scoffs. “vitamins. yeah, I’ll go get some tea while you’re gone. you gone be sick.”

“I will not.”

“you will.”

“no, I won’t!”

“you will, but that’s okay, cause I’ll do my duties and take care of your stubborn ass.”

“the nerve! are you wishing sickness upon your beloved fiancee?”

“no, I’m wishing sense upon her, but she a lil lackin’ in that area—“

“onyankopon!”

˚₊‧꒰ა ✦ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

a couple days later— and a couple dollars richer— you find yourself exactly where ony predicted you’d be.

stuck in bed and sick.

you’d woken up with a tickle in your throat and immediately knew that was an omen of the symptoms to come. luckily, you avoided the inevitable ’I told you’ so from ony, who’d gone into work while you were still knocked out. you decided to use the time to drink all the things— orange juice, water, some nasty ass V8, and the ginger lemon tea he’d purchased— and take whatever meds were in the cabinet.

of course, you only felt worse as the day went. you got warmer and your nose started to run. the strength in your body lessened more and more. the thought of walking up the stairs started to sound like hell. with a final groan, you resigned yourself to the couch, and got lost in the world of messy romance reality shows to distract you from your slowly declining health.

when ony came home, he wasn’t surprised to see you asleep on the couch. you always need time to recover after big events. all the talking and ass kiss— kicking can drain a lot of energy. he smiled at the sight of you all bundled up and headed straight upstairs for the shower, missing the box of tissues and tea that were sitting on the coffee table.

as he showered, you woke with a groan, wondering what fucking year it was. the sky had darkened and the tv automatically shut off— and ony’s shoes were at the front door next to yours.

ugh. you love the man, but you weren’t looking forward to hearing his mouth. you figured you’d just go back to sleep and deal with it later. you rolled over and bundled yourself back up, only to hear ony travelling back down the stairs.

he leaned against the back of the couch, peering down at your pretty, sleepy face. you opened one eye to look up at him, and the corner of his lips lifted at the sight. “hey, baby. gonna get some dinner. you hungry?”

you just shook your head and nuzzled back into your blanket.

“hm. you’re quiet today,” ony mused with a tilt of his head. “you probably did a lot of talking, though, huh? makin’ all that damn money and flirtin’ with those rich men.” he’s always loved to tease you about your job. he’s secure in the relationship, and so are you, but you usually have some snarky response and he loves the banter.

but when you didn’t shoot back a retort, ony knew something was up.

”you good?” he asked, eyebrows pulled together. he reached down and moved your blanket from your face, wanting to get a clearer picture of what was going on. you just nodded and yanked the blanket back up, coughing softly.

shit.

“…what was that?”

double shit.

you finally decided to speak, looking up at him with squinted eyes. ”nothing.” it was no point. the damage was done. you didn’t even know why you tried. that one little cough signaled the end of your peace.

ony didn’t look the least bit convinced. you knew he wouldn’t. ”it wasn’t nothin’. you coughed,” he stated blandly, his gaze unimpressed.

you persisted, which didn’t exactly help your situation. “I didn’t. I cleared my throat.” you cleared your throat then, as if demonstrating. the two sounds weren’t similar at all.

ony was over it at that point. he looked at you— really looked at you— and started to notice. low and watery eyes, disgruntled face, dull skin… ”stubborn fuckin’ wom— you sick, aren’t you? why you ain’t tell me? I would’ve came home.”

“it’s not even that bad! I’m fine,” you tried to reassure him. but your voice was kinda groggy and you were obviously tired, and ony had noticed the tea and tissue by then. he had to briefly marvel at your audacity.

“yeah, it’s not bad yet. listen to you, voice all hoarse and shit. go get in the bed,” he fussed. he’d already started putting a plan together in his head of all the things he needed to get for you, irritation painting his face at your little antics.

“I’m not—“

“go get in the bed ᥫ᭡. I’m not playin’.”

and that brings you to now. you’re tucked under layers of covers, medicines lined up on the nightstand, and you’re now under the watchful eye of dr. ony. he’s been no nonsense, especially after you basically hid your sickness, but he’s been so tender too. no surprise there.

“okay. I made you soup and some more tea, and I brought some cool instead of cold water so it doesn’t hurt your throat,” ony mumbles, carefully carrying a tray into the room. “I hope the soup is good. let me know if it needs somethin’.”

he sets the tray on the nightstand and looks over at you, taking in your appearance. you’re sniffling often and holding the blankets close to you, as cozy as can be in your state. he’s set you up with a vicks steamer for your congestion, cough drops, and plenty of tissue.

“thank you,” you rasp, immediately reaching for the water. you sound congested as hell, and ony wishes he could just make the sickness go away. you look damn near miserable.

“you’re welcome, baby. do you need anything? is your headache gone?” he sits on the edge of the bed and places his hand on your forehead. still burning up. you lean into his touch with a sigh, the coolness of his skin a small relief.

“I’m okay. it’s better but not completely gone. there’s so much pressure in my head,” you mumble. a cough escapes you and then quickly one cough becomes a whole fit. you turn from ony and cough into a tissue, wincing at how it worsens your headache.

ony winces with you. it’s almost like he can feel your pain. fuck, he hates when you’re sick. you should be all sunshine and laughing, not stuck at home sick because you’re good at your job.

“here, baby, use the steamer. it’ll help,” your fiancé soothes. he turns it on and helps you get a good grip of it, watching as your breathing becomes easier. he can’t help but sigh. “hate seein’ you like this. c’mere.”

he easily scooches you closer to him and sets a large hand on your chest, rubbing in gentle circles. your eyes fall shut as the pain eases. he might be annoying sometimes, but you couldn’t ask for a better life partner. even if he told you so, he isn’t rubbing it in. he’s just taking care of you, no question.

you’d be no good right now without him.

“here, let’s get you to eat something,” he mumbles. even when your face scrunches at the thought, he still holds up a spoon of soup for you. “it’ll help you feel better. just eat as much as you can, yeah?”

you almost feel pathetic, getting spoon fed at your grown age, but you can’t deny how good it feels to just relax. your body’s going through a lot.

you down as much soup as you can, nodding in approval at the little bit you can taste. it’s not much, but it’s better than not being able to taste at all. “thank you. I don’t think I can eat anymore.”

ony hums, noticing you were actually able to eat quite a bit. “okay. let’s get you some medicine and you can sip on your tea till you fall asleep. I’ll put on some jeopardy.”

ah, yes. it’s become routine for jeopardy to be your sick show. you usually watch it for a bit before it starts watching you. meaning you fall asleep and let it become soothing background noise.

“you gonna lay with me? or do you not wanna catch my germs,” you murmur, blinking over at him. you should tell him to stay away, protect him from whatever it is you’ve got. but he’s just as stubborn as you, and you know there’s no point in telling him to go away.

he laughs and shakes his head. spoiled lil thing you are. “this happens every time, baby I tell you you gone be sick, you don’t listen, I take care of you, and then I get sick myself. I know how to recognize the pattern even if you don’t. scoot over.”

you giggle softly at what you know to be the truth and shift in the bed to make room for him, immediately cuddling up against his form. “thank you for taking care of me, love. I know I get on your nerves but you’re the best caretaker.”

“you know I got you,” he mumbles, his hand starting to massage your back. “you a lil hard headed somethin’ but you gone be my wife. there’s nothin’ I rather do than be with you, even when you sound like louis armstrong.”

“onyankopon!” you laugh, smacking his chest. he laughs asking with you until your laugh eventually becomes coughs. the steamer is in front of your face again before you can even think, and you reach to hold it to your face with an appreciative glance.

ony watches you for a moment, ensuring the coughs settle. you’re getting more exhausted by the minute and he can tell sleep will overcome you soon. but he can’t lie… your little sick bubble is uncomfortable as hell. he doesn’t want to get stuck in it for hours while you nap.

“damn, baby. it’s hot as hell under these covers. can we get rid of a couple?” he frowns, feeling the heat creep up his body. there’s got to be at least four blankets on top of the comforter, and he knows one of them is fucking heated. fuck, he’s going to die from heat stroke.

you lift the steamer from your mouth, only long enough to respond, “don’t touch my blankets, ony.”

his frown deepens as he starts to squirm a bit, feeling the prickles of sweat at his skin. “baby, I ain’t gone be able to take this. can we at least move turn off the heated one?”

again, you remove the steamer only for your response, your eyes squinting now. “don’t touch my blankets, ony.”

“nah, I’m finna burn up. gone make me sweat. let me go get some ice water at least.”

“noooo, stay. you said you gone get sick anyway. might as well get a head start.”

“baby, you can’t do me like this. I’m gonna pass out or some shit.”

“well, pass out next to me. you ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

husband!ony pulls all the stops for his little ones. he wants them to have so many good memories with their parents. he wants them to have an amazing childhood. you see the love he has for his family with everything he does, and it just makes you fall in love with him all over again.

obviously, husband!ony looks forward to the family’s first easter egg hunt. it’s hilarious watching a man as tall and built as yours trying to delicately paint an egg like the youtube video on his phone.

it’s then you casually tell husband!ony that you’ve never had an easter egg hunt of your own. he looks at you like you have three heads, like you blindsided him with some extremely sensitive information. you think it’s no big deal, and he thinks you’re crazy.

it’s a situation that needs rectifying. so. while you’re hiding eggs for the kids, he’s hiding eggs for you.

you find the first, a pink plastic egg sticking out of the shoes you picked for the day. there’s a little piece of paper with ony’s terrible scrawl. ‘there’s five of these. happy easter, baby.’ with a confused look, you pop it open. what’s inside? a charm bracelet, something you’d mentioned you wanted.

you can’t help but grin and bite your lip. husband!ony might still have something up his sleeve.

the next one you find in the cabinet, right next to the syrup. he knew you were going to make those bunny pancakes the kids like, so he hid it there. inside, there’s a small charm. it’s a bouquet of flowers. like your earth day date!

the third is in the shower. cheeky. inside, a charm of an ice cream cone. he even made sure to get your favorite flavor.

the fourth is in your makeup bag. inside, a charm of the cutest little puppy.

and the last is hard to find. damn near impossible actually. the others were in places you frequent, so you didn’t have to look for it, but you find yourself searching for the last one.

by the end of the day, you sigh and tell your husband that you can’t find it. he just smiles and pats the bed, inviting you to lay with him. when you pull back the blankets on your side, the final one is waiting for you.

you playfully smack his arm with a grin as you slide in next to him, and his arms wrap around you as he watches your reaction. what’s inside? a beautiful ring. it has your and your husband’s birthstones, along with your kids’.

he’d custom ordered it to be ready for your anniversary a month ago, but it wasn’t ready in time because he knew you wouldn’t like the initial design. it was ready a few weeks later, but he couldn’t think of a good time to give it to you. now was as good a time as ever, he’d thought.

it’s no surprise when your eyes start to water. it’s no surprise when you give him a deep, loving kiss. and it’s definitely no surprise when nine months later, you have your final little one together.

yup. husband!ony’s still got it.

he has you, his sweet, precious lady who he treats like a queen, on the floor.

your pajama pants are ripped open, shirt halfway up your body and bonnet about to slip off and go to fucking timbuktu. the carpet below you is rubbing up against your knees with every thrust and you know saying anything about it is pointless when he gets like this.

you can only hold onto the leg of the coffee table as he fucks into you from behind, large hand coming down hard against the softness of your ass cheek. the sting is welcome—it’s all welcome—and you’d stay down there all day if you could.

“fu-uck…”

“shut up.”

and shut up you do. because at that moment, ony lifts one of his legs to plant his foot, dick digging deeper into you at an angle that has your jaw dropping. his hand firmly grips you by the nape and tugs you up, bending you into an arch.

smack! smack! smack!

“sometimes you needa be fucked like a slut,” he grunts, upper lip pulled into a slight snarl. “sometimes you need to shut up. sometimes you just need to take it.”

you don’t disagree. you can’t speak, anyway, if the drool dripping down your chin is anything to go by. all you can do is moan and reach between your legs, fresh set that ony paid for glistening as you play with your clit.

smack! smack! smack!

“you ain’t gone thank me? what kinda shit is that? know I’m fuckin’ you good,” he huffs. “know you love it when I fuck you like this. gimme this shit. sloppy fuckin’ pussy.”

you groan, knees burning from the carpet, ass burning from his spanks, and thighs burning from the position.

but fuck if it doesn’t feel good when he smacks your hand away to play with your pussy himself, his teeth biting down on your shoulder as he tugs you back to meet thrust after thrust.

“ain’t gone say shit? or you can’t?” he laughs breathlessly. it has you clenching around him, pleasured pout pulling at your lips. “awww, po’ baby. you embarrassed? too fuckin’ bad. gimme my shit.”

you come—again—but he doesn’t stop. he fucks you through it, slows down just slightly, but his hips still meet yours again and again, ignoring the complete mess you’re making beneath him. he’ll worry about that later.

“tap out,” he mumbles, hand sliding to the front of your throat. it’s a firm grip, not tight, and grounds you to the moment. he’s giving you an out, but you don’t want it. you shake your head as quick as you can in your state.