#Tyrone fanfiction

[megamindsecretlair]

Have Mercy

A/N: Based on this ask. It contained porno links. Whoever you are, ya nasty and I love you. This is a bit of a deviation so I'm sorry if it wasn't what you pictured! Thank you for the support!

Pairing: Pornstar!Tyrone x Black!Shy!Fem!reader / Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. FILTH for nearly 5k words! PWP, cursing, PIV, oral (fem receiving), cum play, possession kink, size kink, dirty talk, degradation/praise kink, Daddy kink, orgasm denial, overstimulation, all consensual. Use of n-word. Disrespectful Tyrone. Drug use. Established friendship.

Summary: After a very steamy porn video by Tyrone, you can't help your curious questions as you hang out and discuss his work. You'd been too shy to ask before, but you're dying to know what it's like in person.

Word Count: 5,284k

A/N: I was just waiting on the right spark to answer this ask. And...look, you all know how fuckin' feral I am for Tyrone. It's not a surprise. I promise 5k words is worth it. This was so fuckin' hot to write. I hope you enjoy it! Please, please, consider leaving a comment or reblogging to help support writers. I can't get better with no feedback!

Taglist: @planetblaque @dayjlovesromance @sevikasblackgf @melaninpov @amyhennessyhouse @henneseyhoe @honeyoriginalz @justheretostan @black-fairy3 @superhoeva @jarfulloftears @hereformiles @montysstuffs @westside-rot @blackerthings @blowmymbackout @euphoric05 @miyuhpapayuh @nicolexnight @8ttached @judymfmoody @wakandas-vibranium @soft-persephone @justabovewater20 @notapradagurl7 @mcotton0928 @soapjay @heyauntieeee @theyscreamsannii @mybonafidefeelings

“Okay, but like…they just kind of sit there and…” You stopped talking and started jerking your hand. You looked across the hazy space towards Tyrone. He was laying across the bed and looked at you down the blunt he held to his mouth. The orange-red spark glinted and then dimmed as he pulled it out. He licked his lips and then blew out the smoke.

“Shit, ion know. I do this shit myself,” Tyrone said. 

Tyrone passed the blunt and you grabbed it, bringing it to your lips and inhaling. You turned your head towards the ceiling, your eyes expanding. “So, you got a camera and microphones and shit?” You asked.

“Yeah,” Tyrone said and took the blunt from you. “Got to these days. If I’ma be rocking somebody’s shit, then everybody gon’ see it.” He brought the blunt to his lips and pulled on it. 

You tried to picture it. Your head was so blessedly silent for once. You actually formed a thought and kept it. Tyrone on the bed, naked. Showing off ropes and ropes of thick muscle. Arms strong enough to break coconuts. Thighs begging to be ridden. 

Your core heated up, a small tingle working up the back of your thighs. You bet he was the type to hold on and get to work. But you smirked at him and started to giggle. 

“You always talk that shit, Ty,” you said. Your giggles kept going, making your stomach hurt. You flattened your hand on your stomach. “Don’t make me laugh! My tummy hurt!” 

Tyrone stared at your high ass and smirked. Fuck. It took forever to make him laugh. Like the mu’fucka was born with ice down his throat. You longed to hear that rare, raspy laugh. 

“I talk big ‘cuz my dick big,” he said and huffed out a chuckle. It was barely enough to call it a laugh. 

The mention of his dick had you clenching your thighs. You’ve memorized the way Tyrone walked. He walked like he was swangin’ dick down there. Also, you’d never in a million years tell him, but you’ve seen his videos. 

You had second hand evidence that he was packin’. You have came plenty of times just to the sound of his voice on those videos. He rarely fucked the same girl twice. They were all different women; all Black women, and all thick Black women. 

You weren’t a snob. Sometimes you’d watch the woman getting their back blown out and wish it were you. But his voice. You were knee deep in his comments and he was gaining popularity just from his voice alone. 

You giggled again. “Where do you even find these women? You being safe?” You asked. You knew perfectly well that he fucked without a condom. Hell, you’d let him cum in you too. 

“I get checked every month and only fuck bitches that’s clean. Some hit me up. Some I find in the wild,” he said. 

He puffed on the blunt after you handed it back. Your body wasn’t floating but it felt like it. There was an all around hum on your body. 

“The wild? Like…damn, you just find women willing to have sex on camera and release it?” You never had enough courage to ask these questions before. But after last night’s video, you wanted to know. Your burning curiosity finally won out and started asking about it.

“You’d be surprised how many mu’fuckas wanna watch themselves. Some don’t wanna be seen. That’s fine. Hide they face and whatever. But the real nasty ones don’t cum unless the camera in they face,” he said. He released a cloud of smoke to join the rest.

You thought of being one of those women. Showing your face on camera for millions to gawk at. Cum to. You’d never in a million years…but the thought wasn’t terrible. There would be evidence that Tyrone fucked you and he’d control it. He could do anything with it.

“Do you rehearse and shit? Like do you know what you’re gonna say before?” You asked. 

“Hell naw,” he said and huffed again. 

He comes up with those filthy things on the spot? You bit your lip. Maybe…having sex with Tyrone wouldn’t be good. He’s a different breed. In a class all on his own. Sure, the videos could have told you that. But hearing it from the source? You weren’t so sure you wanted to find out what he was like. 

“You real curious tonight,” he said. The orange light from the blunt casted soft shadows over his face. 

You shrugged. “We ain’t talkin’ bout shit else,” you said. 

“You forget I know yo ass? You real curious,” he said. He looked at you skeptically. You looked right in his eyes. You were not going to give him an inch. You had years worth of experience pretending to not be in love with him. That every video wasn’t like a stab in the heart. 

He was making good money though and you weren’t gonna fuck with someone’s bag. So you kept your mouth shut. Pretended that you were just his friend. Just a friend. 

The bed shifted and Tyrone leaned closer to you. His eyes searched your face. He leaned in closer than he has ever been to you. His nose lightly grazed yours, making it both tingly and itchy. 

You swallowed hard and you knew you made a sound. Tyrone huffed, the breath fanning across your face.

“You trynna find out?” He asked. 

“Naw nigga,” you said. You didn’t know where this boldness came from. But your heart thundered in fear that he would learn your secret. You’d kept it so close to your heart for so long. It was like its own tiny dagger always piercing your heart. But sometimes removing it hurts you worse than keeping it in. If you opened your big mouth, you’d ruin this. This time spent together. 

Tyrone kissed your cheek. His lips lingering against your cheek as he spoke. “Every time I mention gettin’ down, you tell me I’m lyin’. So let me prove myself,” he said.

You giggled, the weed making him glow. You stared across his regal looks. You bet he was  a king in a previous life. 

You wriggled on the bed and took a deep breath. Stay strong. Stay strong. “You actin’ crazy, Ty. Not every girl wanna be yo bitch,” you said. You sounded weak to your own ears. 

“Mhm, I think you the one lyin’. I think you been cravin’ this dick,” he said. He pecked your cheek and traveled down. His lips kissed a trail of fire down to your neck.

“What you say that for?” You asked.

“You wanna know what it’s like to be fucked by me, don’t you?” He asked. He kissed up to your ear and laughed. “I know what desire look like. I eat that shit for breakfast,” he said.

His words made your mouth drop open. Words of denial rushed to your lips. But your mouth turned dry. The fuckin’ weed speeding along your anxiety at being exposed. 

“You trippin’, man,” you said. You shook your head, but he kept up the pressure on your neck. Practically making out. Little swipes of his tongue made you bite back a groan. Your panties were so damp, they were sticking to you. You ran the palms of your hands up and down your thighs. 

“You talk big game. You aint tell me to stop yet neither,” he said.

Fuck. True. But how could you? He hadn’t even done anything to you yet and you were ready to burst. You just made yourself cum this morning, thinking of the video last night. He had looked delicious pounding someone into the bed. How you wanted it to be you. 

Your words died in your throat. What could you say? He was seducing yo ass. Did you really want that to stop?

“Fine then, nigga. Break my back,” you said. You looked him in the eyes with the challenge in your eyes. He looked up at you and grinned. Yo momma ain’t raise no bitch. You got nervous sometimes but that’s okay. It’s okay to be nervous. Do shit anyway. 

The words sounded nice, but you were terrified of the look in Tyrone’s eyes. That was not the look of someone who was going to be sweet and loving in bed. Tyrone the Pornstar was here. 

He got off of the bed and moved the ashtray off of the bed and onto the nightstand. The sound of the glass was like a gunshot. You flinched and watched his every move. He stood up to his full height and stared at you.

The look in his eyes was not friendly. It was predatory. You were an unknowing baby bunny and he was a starving wolf. He reached out with his hands and ran them up and down your bare thighs. You gasped and flinched away from him. 

“When was the last time you been fucked?” He asked. 

You’ve taken your fair share of guys to your bed. Some were even good. None ever came close to Tyrone. Each time you came, it was to the sound or memory of Tyrone’s voice. 

“Been a while,” you said. 

He nodded his head. He reached for the zipper of your shorts and you let him unzip it. He didn’t pull your shorts down all the way. He opened your zipper as far as it would go and then pulled down the front just enough to see your panties.

You were hoping to disrobe in a quick rush. You weren’t exactly prepared for sex tonight. You wore one of your boring and safe panties. It didn’t bother Tyrone. He stared at it, like he’d just unwrapped a present. 

“Talkin’ all that shit. Why yo panties wet then?” He asked. 

You looked away briefly. “Thinkin of this guy at my job I got a crush on,” you said.

Tyrone dug his fingers into your panties and you cried out. “Every time you lie to me, that’s another orgasm,” he said. “I’m already thinkin’ of..four, maybe. I can keep goin’,” he said. His deep voice made you shiver. 

His fingers were right there. Your stupid panties were in the way. You felt the pressure but not his beautiful, strong hands. “I’m not lyin’,” you said.

He dug his fingers in more and you jerked from the strong wave of desire. It was like you drank static. 

“A’ight that’s five. And I want you to count ‘em out too,” he said. 

“Wait, I’m sorry,” you said. You never had your limits tested, but you were pretty sure you’d die after the third one. If he went for five, you weren’t going to survive. There were too many things you wanted to accomplish before you left this earth. 

“That sorry shit don’t work on me,” he said and grinned. “Now be a good little bitch and tell me you want this dick. And you want me to film it,” he said. 

A breath stuttered out of you. He was even better in person. “Don’t show my face,” you said. You borrowed boldness for tonight. If you survived to tomorrow, then that’s when you’d freak out. For now, you wanted the entire Tyrone experience. 

“Naw, this my personal stash. I wanna see that sexy ass face,” he said. He leaned over you and ran his thumb outside of your panties. You were leaking at the edges and his thumb glided so close to where you needed him. 

“Personal stash?” Maybe if you kept him talking, he’d give you a reprieve. You just needed a moment to think. To find a way out of five orgasms. 

“The ones I watch to get myself hard. The ones I cum to, thinkin’ of it when I’m balls deep in pussy online,” he said. 

Oh shit. “But–” your dry throat ached. It paled in comparison to the ache in your tummy. That deep, hidden place that few men actually hit. 

Tyrone slipped his thumb under your panties and crested the very outer area of your clit. You gasped and twitched, your legs couldn’t open wider because your shorts weren’t all the way off. He looked into your eyes. 

He licked your open mouth. “See, the game to porn? Focus on the woman. Always,” he said.

He increased his strokes until you were a shaking mess. You didn’t know you could make those types of sounds. But all of the tiny grunts and yips, turned to moans as you came from his finger circling your clit. He didn’t even touch it directly. 

He pulled his finger away and watched you jerk and twitch until you calmed down. He licked his thumb, made a surprised sound, and stood up. Your eyes tracked him as he stepped back and took off his black T-shirt. His jeans went next, his briefs tenting with his erection.

He stroked himself over his briefs and looked at you with his head crooked to the side. “Fuck, you’re sexy,” he rasped. He moved to the side of his room and there was the sound of devices getting moved around. You laid on the bed, your eyes back to the ceiling. 

This was really happening. You fought the urge to pinch yourself as Tyrone set up the camera. It had a retractable viewer and he flipped it around to the bed. You saw yourself lying there, staring at the camera.

Your pussy clenched at the thought. Tyrone had always been a man of his word. If this was his personal stash, he was the only one that would see you getting fucked. You wanted it so desperately, you leaned up on your elbows and started to remove your shorts.

“I say you can move yet?” He asked. 

You panted at his aggressive tone and shook your head, not trusting your voice. “Lay yo ass back down,” he said. You followed his command, laying back on the bed. Your body was floating this time. You felt every nerve in your body twitch up and await what Tyrone had in store. 

Tyrone puffed on the blunt as he finished setting up the camera. A moment later, he brought the camera closer and pointed it at your face. You blushed so hard that your cheeks burned from it. You knew they would be hot to the touch. 

“Smile for Daddy,” he said. 

You giggled and swiped at the camera. “Fuck you,” you said. 

Tyrone chuckled a little louder this time. He moved the camera down your body. “Take off the shirt first, nice and slow,” he said. 

You sat up and looked at him. Focus on him. That’s all you had to do. You’d make this the best damn video he can’t release. You took off your shirt, exposing your mismatched bra. That came next, slowly sliding it off your arms. You threw it at him and he caught it with one hand. 

He smirked from behind the camera and dropped your bra. He commanded that you stand up and take off your shorts. He told you to turn around and slightly bend over as you took off your panties. You stepped out of it and he groaned.

“Fuck, look at that pretty fuckin’ pussy,” he said. 

You clenched and then clenched again knowing that he was picking it up on the camera. “Crawl on the bed, get on your back,” he said. 

You did as he told you. You climbed onto the bed and exaggerated yourself crawling to the top of his bed. You flipped over, dropping onto your back. “Get comfortable,” he told you.

You moved a few pillows over to cradle your head and back. You instantly felt better. You closed your eyes with a smile. Your knees were pressed together, still feeling that lingering shyness. 

Tyrone tapped your knees. “Open them up for me,” he said. Tyrone had the viewfinder half flipped between you. He had it focused on your knees. You hid your face behind your hands and shook your head. 

“C’mon, do what I say,” he said. 

You groaned but opened your legs. You threw your arm over your eyes, not wanting to see his reaction. “Open them pretty eyes and look at me,” he said. His tone, more than anything, made you open your eyes and stare at him. Tyrone was not the gentle type online. He barked and commanded and did nearly unspeaking things to women. Soft wasn’t in his vocabulary. 

“You know how sexy you are?” He asked. 

“Of course I do,” you said. Your sexiness didn’t depend on no man. Not even Tyrone. You knew you were fine as hell. You ain’t pull niggas for nothin’. But you were still fuckin’ shy. Damn. 

“Don’t hide it then,” he said. He climbed onto the bed and moved the camera beyond your head. You craned your neck to see him fix the viewfinder where he could see. There was a perfect angle of the length of your body, your legs spread open, and Tyrone hovering above you. 

Tyrone then kissed you, rolling his tongue all over yours. You don’t know how long he spent kissing you. It was long enough to make you relax for half a second. When he felt your body go slack, he added his hands. He lowered himself to your body and rested on his elbows. His hands, he ran them all over your chest. 

He massaged your breasts, rolling your nipple between his warm fingers. Each twist was just this side of painful. And you groaned. Your head flopped on the pillow as he nipped at your neck. 

You brought your hands up to grip onto his back. Your nails lightly scratched him. He groaned. He kissed down your neck, moving onto the top of your titties. “Oh, shit,” you moaned as his lips latched onto your left nipple. 

He sucked like he was mining for gold. He rolled his tongue over the budding peak. He ‘d stop and examine his handiwork, see if it was satisfactory, then return his attention to it. He licked a long strip down the center of your chest to your tummy. 

He paid careful attention to each stretch mark, each tiny scar from you being clumsy, and every mole. His hands worked their way down too. Squeezing your sides. The upper, fleshy part of your thighs. He reached around and gripped your ass, squeezing the globes. 

He continued downward, running his tongue through your pubic hair. He reached the very edge of your pussy and you squirmed away. A cold patch started inching its way under your ass. Your arousal was already flooding his bed. 

He flattened his tongue against your pussy lips and you bucked off of the bed. “Oh fuck, Tyrone!” You yelled. 

Your skin was itchy. You needed relief in the worst way. He chuckled and nosed his way through your folds. He swirled his tongue lazily around your clit.

“Did you know you taste good?” He murmured into your pussy. His lips caught your clit and part of your pussy lips. You made an unholy moan. 

“Could eat this for breakfast, lunch, and dinner and still want some,” he said. 

“Fuck,” you whined. Your pussy clenched thinking of a repeat with Tyrone. How else he could be so nasty. 

The wetness of his tongue made you wetter. He began to increase the flicks of his tongue against your clit. “Oh shit, right there, right there,” you begged.

Tyrone backed away at the last second and you growled. He chuckled and kissed your clit. “You think just ‘cuz you want it, you s’posed to have it?” He asked. 

“Please, please,” you said. 

“Mhm, I knew yo lyin’ ass was gon’ regret what you said.” 

“Or maybe I just wanna cum and I’ll say anything,” you said, goading him into proving you wrong. You’d gladly be wrong, many times over, if he kept eating you like that. 

“Guess, we goin’ for six then. Start counting,” he said. 

“What?” 

“And the first one ain’t count neither,” he said. 

“That’s cheating!” You yelled. 

He looked at you from between your legs. You had to sit up some to see his half lidded eyes. “I look like a nigga that play fair?” 

Your chest rose and fell and you looked at him. You shook your head. “No, but–what can I do to bring that number down?” You asked. 

“Not a mu’fuckin’ thing,” he said. He kept watching you as he descended on your pussy, running his lips up and down, licking up your arousal. He watched as he tried different things, trying to see what you reacted to most. When he did something you liked, he stopped and switched tactics. 

You tried not responding, quieting your moans but then he’d bit the sensitive spot between your pussy and your leg. You’d jerk, complain about the pain, and say, “Don’t give a fuck.” 

You were back to moaning uncontrollably. So out of your mind in bliss, that you barely noticed that he stuck a finger inside of you. He pumped you, his finger getting wetter on each slide. “Oh fuck, oh fuck,” you chanted. 

“Let Daddy hear you,” he said. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you continued. Each word ended on a shriek. Tyrone sucked and you came, with a loud moan. Your hands moved down your stomach, down your thighs, scratching underneath them. Your moves were jerky, flopping against the bed. You didn’t know what to do with your body as you came. 

When you were done, air whooshed across your heated, sweat-slick skin. Tyrone licked up whatever was left over, making you twitch from your sensitive clit. 

Tyrone kissed up one side of your thighs. He slapped your pussy, making you cry out. “One!” 

He then pushed your legs back, your thighs grazing the bedsheets. “This where I want ‘em. Keep ‘em there,” he said.

How the hell was he still in so much control? You were a ruined mess. You couldn’t survive any more. 

Tyrone had other plans. He trailed his fingers around your clit and you moaned. “I can’t,” you said.

“Aw, you wanna tap out?” He asked.

You nodded. Your eyes were closed. You weren’t strong enough for another orgasm. 

“Still don’t give a fuck,” he said. He leaned up and over you. His thighs pushed at yours, folding you. He leaned on his fist, his muscles bunching and contracting. A vein started near his elbow and ran down towards his hand. You longed to lick it, but his arm wasn’t close enough.

You resorted to rubbing his arm. He brought his other hand to cup your pussy. Then a finger disappeared inside you. “Oh shit!” You said and jerked.

He added a second finger and you twitched. Your moans were turning painful. Robbing the breath from your lungs. You’d gasp for any little molecule of air. And then seize up once more as his fingers pumped in and out of you. “Mhmm,” Tyrone said.

“Nasty little bitch, ain’t you.” He added a third finger. 

“Ty, Ty,” you croaked out. 

“What? You need four?” He asked. He added a fourth finger and you rounded your eyes at him. As he pumped it into you, he turned his hand. Two fingers slipped out. The first two, he continued to pound into you. Then he crooked his fingers in a come hither motion and you exploded.

Your back lifted off of the bed as your orgasm steam rolled you. Your legs shook like mini earthquakes, each wave cascading through you like aftershocks. You reached for his chest, needed to feel something solid under your hands. He slapped your hand away and tilted his head at you. 

He grabbed your nipple and pulled and you shrieked. “Fuck,” you said. He arched his brow at you. “Two,” you said. 

You came down with tears gathering in your eyes. You sniffled as you shivered. Tyrone rubbed your arms, smirking at you. 

“Shit, may not need the camera. I’m gon’ remember this shit,” he said. 

You completely forgot about the camera. It turned you on that those orgasms were recorded. That he’d watch them again and again. 

He kissed your tummy, bringing your attention back. He kissed and suckled your skin. You watched it disappear into his mouth. You groaned when he started to hurt. He moved on to more patches of skin, kissing the underswell of your right titty. He caressed your hips and massaged your ass as he kissed his way to your neck. 

He bit your shoulder and then licked your neck. He placed kisses on your jaw and then kissed you. He licked the swell of your bottom lip. 

Your body relaxed into the feel of his lips on you. The weed still did its thing. Every kiss was its own inferno. Burning your skin and leaving no end in sight. 

Tyrone returned his attention to your neck, kissing along your ear. He licked the shell of your ear and lined up at your entrance. You didn’t even notice that he took off his briefs.

He slid in and you groaned. You brought your hand up to push at his chest. He stroked and coated his long dick with your juices. He moaned at the feeling of you. He threw his head back and you saw his neck swallowing. Tiny huffs escaped him.

“Goddamn, this pussy feels as good as it tastes,” he moaned. You clenched at his dirty words and he moaned again. 

“Wanna get fucked like a good little bitch?” He asked. 

“Yes! Yes, Daddy, please,” you begged, nodding your head. 

His strokes were long, languorous. His hands pinned your upper arms to the bed. “What happened to all that shit you was talkin’?” 

He wanted you to speak? Speak when he had his third leg half inside of you? He wasn’t even fully seated yet. 

“Talk that shit now with dick in you,” he said. 

You opened your mouth, ready to say something. But then he slammed all the way home, hitting your G-spot and making you cum instantly. You shook on his dick, eyes rolling into the back of your head. Your toes curled. The orgasm took all coherent thought. 

After, you sniffed as tears ran down your cheeks. Tyrone’s dick twitched, his eyes locked on your face. 

“Can get a nigga used to this. You cum so pretty,” he said. 

“Fuck, Tyrone. Please,” you whispered. He only smirked at you. He slapped his hand against your cheek. “Three,” you said with a cry. 

He moved his hand down your throat and squeezed. 

“Oh fuck,” you whispered. Tears fell in rivulets down your cheeks. You were past the point of feeling good in the afterglow of your orgasms. 

He kept up his slow strokes, making you feel every large vein sliding against your slick inner walls. “Put them legs where I want ‘em,” he commanded.

You lifted your aching thighs, putting your hands under to hold them open for him. “Please, Daddy.” 

“Please what? Ask nicely,” he said. 

He slowed down even more, almost to a torturous crawl. He wiggled his hips and his dick hit all the corners of your pussy. 

“Please, no more,” you said. 

“You know what to say to get me to stop,” he said. He wiggled his hips for emphasis. You whined and jerked on the bed. 

You didn’t want to punk out. But you truly couldn’t take another one. Still, one built up anyway. Tyrone chuckled at you, condescension poured out of him in waves. 

“You know I’m cummin’ in this shit right?” He groaned. He threw his head back and his hips twitched. 

You pictured him filling you up like a twinkie and your pussy clenched. “Like that? Want me to nut in you?” 

He squeezed your neck one last time. He moved his hand to your lower tummy and pushed down. You felt his dick from the other side, felt how deep he was inside of you. The tip of his dick kissed your G-spot. He kissed you, soft and nasty. “Talk yo shit then. Can’t talk with dick inside you?” 

Tears gave everything a watery haze. It streamed down your face. Tyrone licked up your tears and moaned low to your ear. “Gimme that nut then,” he said. 

On command, another orgasm rushed through you. Spots danced behind your eyelids. You squeezed your eyes shut. “Show me them pretty eyes,” he said. 

He smirked as you locked eyes with him. He angled his hips and your jaw dropped open. “Mhmm, I know. I know,” he said. 

As you were calming down, you muttered, “Four.” 

Tyrone slipped out of you and you drew your first real breath in what felt like hours. He leaned down between your legs, his mouth suckling on your clit. 

“Oh shit, oh fuck, oh fuck, Tyrone, Daddy. Please,” you moaned. 

“Open them fuckin’ legs,” he growled. You opened them wider, both your arms and legs were tired now. He brought his mouth back onto you and sucked roughly, dragging another orgasm out of you. Your eyes were permanently glued to the back of your head. Pleasure coursed through you, making your legs shake of their volition. Your soul left your body, your feet cramped. Sound exited your right ear and you felt this one in your eyes. 

You squirted and Tyrone leaned back. “Mhmm,” he encouraged. “Nasty fuckin’ bitch,” he said. He licked up your sopping mess. You continued to squirt, the pleasure still so intense. He leaned back and watched you cum, watched you squirt. 

“F-f-five,” you shook. Your teeth clattered and knocked against each other. 

“Look at you, bein’ a good little bitch,” he said. “You made Daddy wait for his nut though.” His voice turned sinister. 

He leaned up and slapped his dick against your clit. The wet slap turned you feral, and you cried for more. You begged for more. 

“Fill me up, Daddy,” you cried. Your fingers tore at your body. You wanted more even though you were ready to tap out. Ready to give it up. 

Tyrone chuckled as he slammed back in. “Oh fuck,” you cried and collapsed your legs. 

“Uh-uh, open them fuckin’ legs. Keep that shit open,” he said. 

You cried, tears long since dried up. He bottomed out and then rubbed your clit with his thumb. “Oh fuck,” you moaned.

“I know,” he said. 

He slid in and out, stroking deep. Deep enough to make you see stars. “Oh, fuck, Daddy,” your voice was high-pitched. “Fuck me, Daddy, fuck me,” you chanted.

“Im finna nut,” he moaned. “I’m finna nut, I’m finna nut.” Hearing his moans was like the spark you needed. You came again, gushing and soaking his dick. He threw his head back and unloaded inside of you. 

He kept going, kept fucking his cum into you. Hot splashes coated your pussy. You felt every pulse and twitch of his dick inside you. He emptied his balls into you and you moaned and scratched at his back. 

He slowed his deep strokes, stilling inside of you. 

“Good fuckin’ bitch,” he said. He slipped out of you, his cum leaking out behind him. He panted, his sweaty chest rising and falling almost painfully. 

“Oh,” you cooed and moaned. Your legs flopped onto the bed, instant relief from keeping them up so long. “Six,” you whispered. Your voice was hoarse. 

Tyrone kissed you. He breathed in your ear. “You ever have any more questions, you come let me know.” 

You were already gone to the world as he said whatever it was that he said. If you woke up in the morning, it’d be a miracle.

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You okay? Need more? The Secret Tyrone Files

#Megaminds Secret Files #The Secret Tyrone Files #Tyrone x Black!reader #Tyrone x Black reader #x Black reader #Tyrone x Shy!reader #Tyrone x Shy reader #Tyrone x Fem!reader #Tyrone x Fem reader #Tyrone x plus size reader #Tyrone fanfic #Tyrone fan fic #Tyrone fanfiction #Tyrone fan fiction #They Cloned Tyrone smut #Tyrone smut #They Cloned Tyrone fanfic #They Cloned Tyrone fanfiction #They Cloned Tyrone fan fic #They Cloned Tyrone fan fiction #Megaminds asks

[thesecretcornerintheroom]

The Perfect Date

Pairing: Fontaine x black female reader

Warnings: Smut. (18+) Dirty talk, Exhibitionism, praise kink.

Word count: 2000

The plot: Fontaine finds out you are going on a date and decides to show you what a proper date is.

It was a regular Friday night. I, Slick yo-yo, and Fontaine chilling in his living room playing game night. We did this every week, and the vibe was always right. We played music of different variants while smoking, playing boring games, and catching up on the week. As of right now, we're taking a break, and I’m currently talking to the yo-yo lowly about this guy who dropped off mail at the station wanting to take me on a date. While the guys smoked and chatted about slick pimping days. “You are going on a date Fontaine said, quickly shifting his attention to our direction. His eyes are dark and strong, looking at me, not breaking eye contact. “Damn, Tain, you got hearing like a hawk said yo-yo, chuckling, taking a sip of her drink. Silence lingered in the air, waiting for my answer. The only thing moving was the smoke exiting Fontaine's mouth as he looked at me. “I don’t know, I’m thinking about it; my life is getting pretty boring,” I said, breaking eye contact with Fontaine and looking away. See, I’ve always had a crush on Fontaine. But I never made a move cause this is the only solid friend group away from home, so I don’t want to change it. “Is it the beige bitch from ya job?” said Slick causing me to laugh. “Yes, it is, and his name is Montell, not Beige bitch” causing me and yo-yo to laugh. “You right, that nigga more so a fluorescent beige,” Slick said earnestly, sipping his drink. Causing me and the rest of the crew to lose it and start laughing.

After the gang left, it was just me and Fontaine. I offered to stay to help him clean up his living room, which I do every Friday. I like spending time alone with Fontaine. I work with yo-yo at the police center, working on cases, and Slick always meets us for lunch every day. But Fontaine is always busy between being the hood #1 dope boy. And making sure his money is straight, he doesn’t get to hang with us besides Fridays. “You are thinking about going out with ol dude?” said Fontaine with a straight face. He was currently picking up all the plates and cups out of the living room.

“I don’t see why not. I mean, I do the same thing every morning. I wake up, solve cases with yo-yo, bring my ass home, and go to bed. It just feels like my life is in this boring ass routine, and I want to try something different, I said. I was now packing up all the games we used. “Let me take you out then,” Said Fontaine, quickly throwing away all the trash and looking straight at me with that stare that makes my knees weak. “huh,” I said quickly, not processing what he said. “If you can, huh, you can hear,” he said back, leaning on the door frame with his hands licking his lip, which showed a peak of his grill. “Why would you wanna take me on a date when half of the whole hood wanna be in ya bed?” I said playfully, crossing my arms. Fontaine never did anything just cause he always had a reason. But I can’t figure out why he would want to take me on a date. He never showed interest in me, and neither have I cause we are just “friends.” What I said caused Fontaine to smile and walk up. “To show u what a real date is before you go on one with a lame.”

“BITCH HE SAID THAT” Yo-yo yelled to me over the phone as I was getting ready for my date tonight. Yo, you said, shocked. “Indeed did” I said as I straight out my high-waisted skirt that had a slit going up my thigh. “I knew that mean-mugging-ass man liked you. I would catch him staring at you all the time, I know I told you that, didn’t I tell you that?” Yo-yo, " she said, going on her tangent. “Yes, you did I said, giggling, but I think we were just going out as friends” I said, dismissing the thought once again trying to make myself believe in the lie I was telling. "Oh, are you, okay then we’ll. I guess you don’t got the skirt I got you?, the one with the high split, huh?” said Yo-yo smartly. I froze, silence taking over the line. “I KNEW IT I FUCKING KNEW IT.” “alright, I love you, bye,” I said quickly rushing her off the phone, hanging up and getting ready to walk outside cause I heard Fontaine's muffler and loud music.

When I got in the car, I mentally passed out. Fontaine looks good. He ditched his sweatpants and hoodie for something more dressy. He had on a simple black tee, jeans, and a chain, and of course, he had his grill in his mouth. “You look good. I like your hair,” he said as he looked at my natural hair. I usually have it pulled up. “Thanks, you look good yourself. I expected you to be in a hoodie,” I said, smiling, trying to ignore his cologne, which was mixing in with the smell of weed in the car. He smelled good, warm and inviting. The scent itself was making me dizzy”. “I told you it was a date he said, looking me in the eye as he leaned in and got too close for comfort to grab my seat belt and buckle me in. I felt his arm bush across my chest to grab the seat belt. To stop myself from sighing, I asked a question quickly: where are we going? I tried not to get lost in his brown eyes. His eyes were deep like pools. I found myself getting lost in them all the time. It’s like he said so much through his eyes without saying anything at all. Breaking my eye contact away from him, I became more aware of his scent wrapped around me in the car. The woody smell mixed with a hint of clean clothes had me feeling intoxicated, and the date just started. My eyes made their way to his lips. He licked them and responded, “We are going to Smokey’s.”

Smokey’s was a old restaurant, but a black family owned it. It had a 1950s dinner vibe. It was a cute place. Once we were inside, I noticed that it was pretty empty. It looked like the only person who was in was the cook and the waitress. We sat at a curved booth. I decide to sit across from Fontaine. He made a face and looked at me. “Why you so far?” he said with a severe but curious tone. When I looked at him, I noticed how his skin tone was due to the dim lighting in the restaurant, and I saw how the colored lights reflected off of his deep skin tone. This man is so attractive to me that it made my head spin. Before I could get the words out, I felt Fontaine grab my waist and pull me closer to him.

“Now what you finna get he said, his arm now wrapped around me. I could tell he was trying to make eye contact with me, so I pretended to look at the menu. “Idk, maybe the special. I haven’t been here in a while,” I said casually, trying to overindulge with the menu in front of me. Suddenly, I was no longer focused on the words on the menu and now focused on his hand, which was caressing my cheek. His hands were rough but inviting. I could feel him slowly turning my head. As I looked him in the eye, I had a strong feeling that whatever happened tonight would be the beginning or ending of a friendship. “You should get what you want. I heard they got good salmon,” said Fontaine, looking me in the eye. I felt my stomach catch butterflies. His eyes are so dark, and they hold so much in them you can see how easy it is to trigger him, good or bad.

Once we ordered our food, we were talking like usual. “Slick wanted me to wear one of his coats tonight. The shit was so bad I told him I look like a fucking peacock,” said Fontaine laughing, flashing his grill, causing me to laugh. “You had to deal with slick, and I had to deal with yo-yo. “I told u, girl, he liked you” blah blah blah,” I said, giggling. Fontaine just let out a chuckle. “yo-yo is so dumb, man,” he said with a passive grin. Alright, here are your meals the waitress said, putting down our meals.

We are silent at the beginning half of the meal, which could have been a comfortable silence. But I was thinking about every interaction I’d had on this date, and I was beating myself up about it inside. “So what made you say yes to going on a date with this guy?” Fontaine said as he was eating some of his fries. “I don’t know. I just wanted something new. It’s been a full year since I've been on a date or thought about dating between the cases at work and in life. It just hasn’t been a priority. It just feels like I’m waiting for something that’ll never happen…so I’m giving myself a push,” I said with a chipper voice, trying to stay optimistic about dating again. I was talking about Fontaine, but he doesn’t know that. “Whatever you are waiting on is gonna come for you,” Fontaine said in a low voice. His demeanor was calm and lax. I looked at him and smiled. He leaned up and leaned into me more. “Let me let you in on a secret,” he said, whispering in my ear. “You shouldn’t go out with him 'cause he is not a perfect fit for you,” he said. I try to stay focused and not get distracted by simple things like Fontaine's lips close to my ear or his breath fanning my neck. I’m not trying to notice how close he is to me or even his warm hand playing with the slit in my skirt.

“Okay, and who is a perfect fit I whispered back,” only trying to focus on his response and the way his finger danced on my thigh, playing with the fabric of my dress. “Don’t play with me,” he says, and he grabs my chin and kisses me. His lips were soft and firm. It was a quick kiss, but it was assertive. It was like he was saying, “It’s me; you know it, and I know it.” I looked him in the eyes and smirked cause I knew what I wanted to do. Instinctively, I grabbed his chain. And pull him closer to me slowly. Once our lips met again, it was like a dance he and I already knew. The kiss was like a conversation, and we were talking with our bodies. Wanting more of him, I bite his bottom lip, causing him to let out a low moan. I felt his hands snake around my waist again. This time, his hand was under my shirt, causing me to gasp. Then, the realization hit me. Where having a whole make-out session in the diner. I pulled away from his kiss abruptly, causing him to take his hands off me immediately. “I’m sorry. Did a make you feel uncomfortable or sum?” Fontaine asked with concern in his eyes and worry in his voice. “No, it’s just where at this restaurant, and where friends I don’t wanna mess that up or the group. Silence hung in the air. Oh god, I bet you he thinks I don’t like him and I’m using that as a excuse. He’s probably gonna start acting different with me now I should have just said no to the whole date

My thoughts were cut short by him clearing his throat and sitting up. “Well then I guess we stuck,” Fontaine said, looking me in the eye and licking his lips. “I don’t wanna be your friend,” he said. When he said that I could feel the heat rising to my cheeks. My face probably looked flushed. “Well,I need you to say something ma” he said, licking his lips again. “I’m scared that if we do this it won’t be the same anymore” I spoke quietly knowing my voice would portray me. I felt his hand on my thigh again, and he turned to my ear and whispered. “ain’t shit to be scared off. I promise I got you. He said, kissing your neck, causing you to gasp. “When I first saw you, I wanted you then,you had this vibe about you that was comforting and warm, but you were our friend. You got along with everybody so I decided to leave it alone he said,” while kissing her neck. He licked y/n neck causing you to gasp.

Your eyes were closed. All you were focused on was his lips and his hands and how they made you feel. Fontaine hand kept going higher and higher up your skirt. “Uhhh, you moaned out lowly due to Fontaine pinching your clit through your panties. “I just wanna take care of you” “I wanna be the one who takes you on a date and make you nut so many times you can’t even stand once I’m done with you,” Fontaine whispered in my ear as he massaged my clit. Causing me to struggle not to let out a moan. “You gotta stay quiet for me, or we gotta stop he said as he moved my panties to the side, and I could feel his two fingers entering me, stretching me out. His motions of going in and out of me were truly ethereal.

Rocking my hips against his hands it felt like ocean moving through out my body, the rhythms,the waves.I was feeling everything. He was ridged beside me, still kissing on my neck. My legs were now wide open with no care of who saw his hand inside of me, touching me and feeling me in ways I can not explain and causing me to move my hips back and forth on his fingers. I opened my eyes for a quick moment to look around the diner, but nobody was there. All I heard was slow barbershop music and food sizzling from the grill. I slowly took my hand off the table and grabbed his hand. I started moving his hand in and out of me. I could feel my wetness all over my thighs. I know my favorite skirt is ruined. I can feel the wetness pooling around my thighs, clinging to my skirt. Holding my moans, I can feel my body tense up. “Let that shit out,” he said with more base in his voice.

“Fuck I don't wanna be loud I whined, starting to feel the coil in my stomach coming undone. Fontaine roughly grabbed my face. “I'm gonna count to three, and you're gonna let it go,” he stated entering me harder, his rhythm becoming more fast and erratic. “One,” he said, causing my toes to curl.”I can’t believe this is happening me getting used like this in public and me like it. “Two:” As he's entering inside of me, I could feel my legs tightening and shaking. “Three,” he said, now massage my clit, which caused me to gasp. The gasp was cut short due to Fontaine kissing me immediately. His kiss was more erratic. This time, he was kissing me like he wanted me in every way possible he could get me. While he is kissing me, he's still rubbing my clit, which is causing my leg to shake and my wetness to leak down my thigh. Causing me to moan in his mouth. Fontaine removed his finger from me and, while looking me in the eye, sucked both fingers. “I'm full. You ready to go?”

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[henneseyhoe]

Still Mine.

Tyrone x BLACK!FEM!Reader

WARNINGS: Tyrone being a slut, baby daddy drama, smutty flashback, slight daddy kink, unprotected sex(wrap it before you smack it!), abortion mentioned, pill mentioned, baby trapping, short, tad bit unedited.

SUMMARY: During Tyrone’s weekly pickup of his daughter, he tries to make his baby mama fold.

Ps. This was originally SO much longer but I didn’t like the way some parts were written so I cut it in half lolzzz

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“You know if I licked it, it’s mine, right?”

Your face twisted into a mug at Tyrone’s words while packing a diaper bag with all the necessary things your daughter needed for the weekend with him.

“Tyrone, please don’t start with that tonight” You couldn’t believe the extents he’d go just because you were seeing other people, it was crazy! Tyrone didn’t see it that way though.

The man was a tyrant. A danger to society and other men when he suspects you fucking with somebody who wasn’t him. Every single time he found out, he would let you know that you had limited days with that nigga, which he was always right about.

They’d either disappear completely or simply just stop responding to your texts.

One time you saw one of them at the grocery store and tried to say hi but he ran the other way, even left his cart stacked with groceries. You wondered what the hell was going on, and why they were so scared, but you knew there was only one person that could have them running for the hills like that, and it wasn’t you.

“I’m not startin’ shit, I’m speakin’ facts. You playin’, knowing them niggas ain’t shit compared to me”

Though the statement was true, it was bold of him to assume you wasn’t getting any good play. It was rare you did, but still! It’s the audacity.

You look at Tyrone up and down before bursting into laughter, making the infant besides you both slightly jump in her pack and play, looking around in confusion before flipping over on her stomach, a skill she just learned.

“Oop- I’m sorry, mama” You apologize to her, the baby just rolling back over and blinking up at you with a tether in her mouth. “Now, back to yo’ delusional ass!”

You thanked god the small child wasn’t old enough to understand words because she would have been cursing like a sailor by now. Pointing at Tyrone with the acrylic nails he paid for, that same signature mean look on his face that he always wore when somebody had him fucked up, you squint.

“Ain’t shit yours, and it hasn’t been yours since about a year now”

Tyrone sucks his teeth, still not believing anything you were saying to him.

“You shittin’ me, it’s always gon be mine!”

“Says who?! You crazy” You blow him off with the wave of your hand, zipping the diaper bag up and handing it to him.

He grabs it, then drops it to his feet without a care, crossing his arms. You look at him with a confused expression, your eyebrow cocked upwards.

“Why you like playin’ wit’ me?” He questioned while straight faced, but you stood your ground, unlike when you use to submit under him and his tone when you two were together. Truthfully, you use to be a bit scared of the nigga. He never gave you a reason to be personally, but he was a hard shell to crack, you rarely knew if he was happy or sad until he said something to steer you in a certain direction.

“Tyrone, quit playing and find you something safe to do, aight?” You fired back, challenging him. He moved not one inch. You knew he wasn’t scared of you at all, so this was no surprise, but you wasn’t gonna take him treating you like this in your own damn house.

“How many niggas you fucked since we broke up, Y/N?”

You shrug. “However many I wanted. I dunno, I wasn’t counting”

“Okay” He nods slowly, putting you on edge just a tad bit. You hum and study his reaction. He only did that when he had some shit up his sleeve. A simple answer, then a nod before he did or said some fuck shit. “And if I find them niggas and suddenly they stop callin’, then what?” Nothing he hasn’t done before.

“One less problem for me. You already pack up enough niggas in the glen anyway. Can’t kill ‘em all!” You giggle childishly after gaining your composure again, but as you found humor, the man stayed oh so serious.

“Oh, you’d be surprised at what a nigga can do now”

“Lemme guess, you learned to read a no loitering sign? Or maybe a no trespassing one?” You continued to joke, him finding nothing funny, as usual.

“You think you so funny” He warns, but you brush him off again, picking the diaper bag up and handing it to him again, this time forcing it in his hands to keep it there.

“I’m fuckin’ hilarious, nigga. better ask bout me”

Tyrone rolls his eyes.

“…so you really tellin’ me youn miss me?”

You turn and walk away to ignore the man further, side eyeing him as he followed. “Get out my face, Ty”

“Stop playin…so youn miss how I use to beat that pussy till you cry?” He spoke, getting closer to your ear so you could hear every syllable there. See, if this was a year and some change ago, you would have folded yourself in on a couch and put your legs to the sky faster than a pin could drop, but you had a point to prove.

You inched away from him to your kitchen, but he followed behind like a hungry shark that smelled blood.

“Let daddy dig that pussy out again, baby. You know I do it better than any other nigga”

Just with those few words, it had you thinking of flashbacks, your eyes fighting off a roll inwards. You knew the power he held in those boxers, you knew all too well what he was capable of. When Tyrone got to the pussy, he made sure he wasn’t playing no games. The man would even pull your bed from the wall everytime he came over so nobody in your moms house could hear how hard he was beating it up, talking dirty to you like you was a random bitch from the club, and that was your favorite part. That’s how you got into this mess anyway. Stuck with him and a tiny human who stole your face.

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Tyrone was definitely a man of threats, but he had never fallen through with any of the non-violent ones till this.

As Tyrone bucked his hips wildly into you, your leg began to quiver in his hold. You had thanked the gods that he had opted to lay you down on your side instead of fucking you standing up like he loved to do. You were sure your legs would have gave out by now if you were upright.

“Imma nut in this pussy, baby. Can daddy nut in this pussy? You want daddy to get you pregnant?”

He asks, and you nodded gladly like a dummy. Whatever the female version of pussy whipped was, you were definitely long past it. Even in that moment, you thought he wasn’t serious about the whole baby thing. He had never talked about one outside of sex, and you honestly thought he was against the entire idea of kids with the way he’d run junebug out of his presence when he’d do normal kid shit. He just didn’t seem serious.

Hell, you knew you weren’t serious about it. What would you do with a baby in this economy? Most importantly, how the fuck were you gonna care for it? You were only 21 and he was 24, had no business being together, but obviously he wasn’t the type to follow rules of any kind, or let you go.

The more he promised to get you pregnant, the harder y’all fucked until you were on top, riding him like there was a prize at the finish line you called an orgasm. Your hands were placed on his thighs behind you and your back was arched in as you spread your legs wide and bounced that ass on him, giving him the perfect opportunity to see himself slip in and out of you.

“Shit…shit! I’m bout to cum!” He shouts while panting, a few groans exiting his mouth.

“Fuuuck! I’m bout to nut, bae!” You heard him announce once again, but that wasn’t what set off alarms in your head, it was when he held you down and continued thrusting upwards into your wetness, making you leak. You whimper and shout, toes curling into the mattress.

“Shit! Lemme get up, Ty!” You tap his hands, trying to get them off of your hips so you could move, but he continues to bounce you with his fingers gripping you tightly, bound to leave a mark. “Tyrone! lemme get up, please!” You shout with urgency, but it had already been too late. By the time you rose up off of his dick, he had been pumping out the last bit of his seed, the small amount just sliding down the shaft of his dick. That’s when you knew you fucked up. Tyrone was a shooter in more ways than one, but when it came to cumming, he was damn near like a loaded gun. You’d have to squeeze your eyes shut when giving him head because he liked to cum on your face, and the first time he did, he almost blinded you with how far he came, literally.

“My god…” You breathed harshly, looking down at his dick begin to soften.

When it was all said and done, you asked him for money for a plan B, but lo and behold, he already had a pill prepared. Right in the glove compartment of his car is where he kept it and gave it to you when he came to see you the next day. But, as the weeks went by, you started to feel like that pill wasn’t much of a plan B, or at least not your “plan B”. It was definitely Tyrone’s though.

Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, and nine of those later, you were popping out a little girl with a full head of hair and features just like yours. If you told somebody you made the baby alone, they’d probably believe you with how much you two looked alike. You were pissed off your entire pregnancy at Tyrone, but that didn’t stop you from loving your baby, you just couldn’t bring yourself to get rid of her either, though the process wasn’t foreign to you. If the “plan B” didn’t take her out, then who says she wasn’t meant to be here? But, with that being said, as you came closer to your due date, you grew farther from Tyrone while he was trying to keep you close, you even moved out of the glen and into a whole ‘nother town over.

He was there through your entire pregnancy, or at least tried when you weren’t trying to kill him for getting into stupid shit and almost dying, but because he was still so supportive and caring for you, checking up on how both you and the baby were doing, you cut him some slack, letting him name the bouncing baby girl. He went with the name ‘Autum’ because you two met in autumn, to your surprise he even remembered that since it had been so long ago.

Fast forward five months later, y’all were still beefing on and off over stupid shit. You would curse him out over scaring away new friends and or lovers, he’d ignore it and continue, working extra hard to make sure all them niggas knew who he was. Oh, Tyrone was on a mission, and he would not be ignored by some lame nigga you wanted to fuck, or ignored by you.

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[wakandas-vibranium]

Double Date

Pairing: Fontaine x Black Fem!Reader

Warnings: smutty smut, 18+ content, minors DNI, oral(f+m receiving), protected p in v sex, dirty talk, daddy!kink, praise!kink, rough sex

Word count: 5k

Summary: Your coworker Yo-Yo is playing matchmaker and asked you to accompany her roommate on a double date.

A/N: Let’s get it started with these TCT fics!! If y’all writing ‘em, please tag me so I can read ‘em!! Please like, comment, and reblog!

You finished getting dressed, checked yourself in the mirror one last time, and smiled at how gorgeous you looked, so you grabbed your cell phone and purse and made your way downstairs to meet your Lyft driver. You couldn't wait for your automobile to be repaired because you loathed having to rely on others for transportation.

You were talking to your coworker Yo-Yo earlier this week about how you were touch starved and eager to jump back into the dating scene. Even though you had only worked with Yo-Yo for a little over four months, you had already come to think of her as a close friend. She just moved to Memphis not too long ago. 

Yo-Yo asked you on a double date with her and her boyfriend, claiming that Fontaine, her roommate, was the ideal man for you. 

You've seen Fontaine pick Yo-Yo up from work numerous times and have seen him drive that green car of his around town a few times, but you've never had the chance to actually talk to him. He always seemed to have a lot on his mind, but he was fine as hell, so of course you agreed to the double date. 

You suggested Melvin's, which was one of the few black-owned pubs in the neighborhood. They had delicious, mouthwatering food and a dance floor that never stayed vacant. 

Fontaine didn't appear to be the dancing type, which was fine by you. You just hoped that he would like you enough to bring you back home and fuck your brains out. It had been exactly 14 months, 12 weeks, 11 days, 13 hours, 22 minutes and 57 seconds since you had any kind of dick.

It was time.

Your Lyft driver pulled up in front of you at a quarter to eight, which was perfect because y'all had agreed to meet there at eight and it was only a ten-minute drive from your apartment.

"Lyft for Y/N?" said the older gentleman as he rolled down the passenger window.

You nodded at him, and he quickly stepped out to open the rear door for you, saying, "You lookin' good, young lady!" 

You smiled at him before ducking into the backseat, "Thank you."

Before you knew it, you were parked in front of Melvin's. A nervous chill swept over you. It had been a good lil minute since you've dated. You were rusty and willed yourself not to fuck up tonight.

Once you strutted inside, you spotted the three of them almost immediately. They were all in deep conversation and didn't notice you walk in. They picked a good table to sit at. One close to the bar and dance floor. It was a Thursday night, so it wasn't too packed, but it had a nice lil crowd. 

You tucked your phone inside your clutch, took a deep breath, and strolled confidently over to their table. 

All three of them turned their heads towards you as you neared the table. Yo-Yo beamed brightly at you and waved you over. Her boyfriend's eyes widened, and he mumbled something you couldn't hear, but it must have been inappropriate because Yo-Yo kicked him under the table. 

Fontaine raised his eyebrows and bit his bottom lip as he looked you up and down. The flash of his gold teeth almost made your knees go weak, but you kept walking. You were a sucker for niggas with grills.

Yo-Yo’s man and Fontaine were on the same side of the booth. Yo-Yo was sitting across from her boyfriend, and the empty spot in front of Fontaine was reserved for you.

Yo-Yo stood up and hugged you tightly, "You look finer than a motherfucka!" 

You giggled, squeezing her back just as tightly, "Thank you girl! You look amazing too!" 

She broke the hug and motioned to the two men, "This is my man, Slick Charles, and this is Fontaine." She motioned for you to slide into the booth first, “And this is my coworker and friend Y/N." 

“Nice to meet you, Y/N,” Slick Charles greeted as he held out his hand. You shook his hand before scooching over into the booth. 

“It’s good to meet you, Y/N,” Fontaine said as he extended his hand, “I’m Fontaine.” 

You placed your hand in his large palm, brown eyes locking with his brown eyes and smiled softly at him, “It’s nice to finally meet you, Fontaine.” 

He squeezed your hand, and a wave of warmth rushed through you. Under his intense gaze, you could feel your cheeks heating up. 

Were you really so touch-deprived that a simple handshake and eye contact were enough to make your black ass blush?

The server came over and greeted everybody warmly, saying, "Welcome to Melvin's. What drinks can I get started on for y'all?"

Yo-Yo ordered first, “I’ll have a Manhattan.” 

Then Slick Charles, “Yeah I’ll take a vodka cranberry with a splash of orange juice.” 

The waiter turned to you expectantly and you ordered, “A whiskey sour, please.” 

Fontaine ordered last, “Just a double shot of whiskey for me.”

“And did you want that neat or on the rocks?” 

“Neat.”

“I’ll be right back with your drinks.” 

“So,” you started as you watched the waiter walk off, “How are y’all liking Memphis so far?”

“I’m really enjoying it,” Yo-Yo chimed in. 

“Yeah,” Slick Charles agreed, “It’s a nice change from the Glen.”

“I like it here,” Fontaine added, “I like being in a place where not too many niggas know me.” 

“Well I’m glad y’all came to Memphis,” you admitted, smiling warmly at them. 

The waiter returned with your drinks and took your orders before walking away. 

“Slick, let's hit the dance floor while we wait for our food.” Yo-Yo said as she did a little dance at the table. 

“I ain’t got on my dancing shoes to—“

“—Nigga, get yo ass up and let’s dance.”

“I know we retired and all but I’m still—“ Slick Charles was cut off by Yo-Yo yanking him up and to the dance floor. 

“Are they always like that?” You asked, biting back a laugh as you watched Yo-Yo drag Slick Charles all the way to the dance floor.

“Pretty much,” Fontaine nodded, never taking his eyes off you, “How long you been in Memphis?”

“All my life.”

“You ain’t ever think about movin’ somewhere else?”

“Nah, not really,” you shrugged, “All my family is here, you know?” 

“Yeah, I get it.” 

You were surprised by how effortlessly the conversation flowed. You could talk to him for hours and never get tired of listening to his alluring voice. You were curious about the noises he made while he was balls deep in some pussy. You cleared your throat in an attempt to pull your thoughts out of the gutter. It didn't work.

“You been in a lot of relationships?” You asked, taking another swig of your drink. 

“Nah, I ain’t really have too many shawtys back in the Glen.” 

“Hmm, so you haven’t come across any Memphis women that caught your attention?”

“You caught my eye,” he stated, catching you off guard. 

“Is that so?”

“Mmhmm.”

“I’mma keep it real with you, Fontaine,” you said as you looked him straight in the eye, “I want you really bad.” 

“Shit then we on the same page,” he acknowledged, downing the rest of his drink. “So you comin’ back with me tonight?” 

You nodded, “I just have one condition though.” 

“And what’s that?” Fontaine questioned as he placed his elbows on the table and leaned forward a bit. 

You leaned across the table and motioned for him to come closer. When he was close enough to your liking you whispered, “You have to keep the grills on while you eat my pussy.” 

His brown eyes darkened with desire and a hint of mischief at your request. As your tongue glided across your bottom lip, his gaze drifted to your mouth. 

The sexual tension was so thick you could have sliced it with a butter knife.

“I can do that.” 

You inched closer to each other, your gaze never leaving the other's. From this close range, you could see that his pupils were dilated. You were positive that yours most likely were too. 

“Yeah? You promise?” The corners of your mouth couldn’t help but turn up into an infectious grin at the electric look he gave you.

“Promise.”

He closed what little distance was left between you and kissed your lips. Your eyes fluttered closed as you kissed him back with a quickness. Under his facial hair, his full lips were soft against yours and tasted of whiskey. 

The bustling noise of the forks scraping plates, the chatter of the other customers, and the thump of feet on the dance floor all faded away for a brief moment.

You rested your hands on his broad shoulders as he deepened the kiss, letting out a soft moan as his tongue brushed against yours. His hand was wrapped around your lower arm, softly caressing your brown skin. 

You got a little carried away as you slid your hands to the sides of his neck and gently tugged at his lower lip. The low grunt of surprise that he let out caused your clit to throb, and your nipples to harden. He didn't try to pull away from you though. He held both of your arms now and squeezed them tighter as his kisses became more heated.

You were seconds away from saying fuck it and pulling him into a bathroom stall, but you refrained. You had to maintain some type of decorum.

“Ahhh sookie sookie now!” Slick Charles chuckled as he made his way back to the table.

“Y’all niggas need to get a room,” Yo-Yo teased as she plopped down next to you. 

“These motherfuckas,” Fontaine grumbled as he pulled away. 

When you finally opened your eyes, you noticed that some other patrons were staring at you. You ignored them and focused your attention on Yo-Yo and Slick Charles, both of whom were smirking at you and Fontaine.

You were too turned on to be embarrassed, and fortunately, the waiter was on his way over with everyone's food.

The food was delicious as always, and the evening was going exceptionally well. Slick Charles was telling you how he met Yo-Yo, but you were zoning in and out. 

Every time you locked eyes with Fontaine, you squirmed in your seat a little. There was something in his fierce gaze that promised you a night of passion. 

You were so turned on that you couldn't even finish your food. You just ordered another whiskey sour and sipped on that until the others were finished and ready to leave.

The drive back to their place was smooth and just a vibe. Yo-Yo and Slick Charles sang along to the 90's R&B that played softly on the radio in the backseat, and you joined them a few times.

Fontaine sat in a comfortable silence, driving with one hand because his right hand was spread out over your thigh. When he would stop at a red light, he would squeeze it or rub it with his fingers. All the while not taking his eyes off the road, driving you insane, and making you wet for him. He had to know what he was doing to you. 

They lived in a pretty nice apartment complex. It wasn't too far from yours. Once Fontaine parked, you got out of the car and walked ahead with Yo-Yo, arm in arm.

You were elated that they lived on the first floor because your feet were killing you. Yo-Yo unlocked the door and you followed her inside. She pulled you through the apartment to the kitchen, handing you a bottle of water after she closed the fridge. 

You and she gushed over how great tonight turned out to be and how you both had naughty plans for your men.

A couple of minutes later, the fellas entered the apartment. Slick Charles called for Yo-Yo, who winked at you and gave you a thumbs up before exiting the kitchen.

You were halfway done with your water when Fontaine found you leaning against the kitchen counter.

“Hey,” he greeted.  

“Hi,” you replied, shooting him a warm smile. 

He pointed to the hallway, “My room is the last room on the left. I’ll meet you there in a min.” 

You nodded as you watched him shuffle out of the kitchen. You gulped down the last bit of your water and threw away the bottle before leaving the kitchen in search of his bedroom.

You found his room with ease, passing Fontaine, Yo-Yo and Slick Charles. The door was already open, so you headed in, not bothering to flip on the light because the tiny lamp on his nightstand illuminated the room plenty for you to see.

“Slick, what the fuck we gon’ do with glow in the dark condoms?” you heard Fontaine question from the other bedroom. You laughed to yourself. You weren’t completely against those types of condoms. 

Slick Charles went on about Fontaine being boring and how he needed to have some fun. You tuned him out as you took off your heels, sighing in relief while you walked around Fontaine’s room. 

You checked your phone to make sure there were no missed calls or texts before slipping it back in your purse. You placed your clutch on his dresser and checked yourself out in the mirror while you waited for him. You looked like a snack and you were definitely ready to be ate! 

Fontaine strolled into the room, shutting and locking the door behind him. You turned around to look at him. He held up a gold-colored foil packet and asked, “You ain't allergic to latex, right?" 

"Nah, I'm not allergic,” you assured him.

"Cool," he said as he pocketed the rubber and took his shoes and socks off, kicking them to the side before pulling you in by the waist and kissing you instantly. 

You kissed him back, your arms sliding up to wrap around his neck. His hands ventured down to your ass, squeezing it tight as he deepened the kiss. He swallowed your soft moans, licking into your hot mouth as he backed you into the dresser.

“Now I told yo ass to slow down before you injure a nigga’s back!” Slick Charles shouted through the walls. Yo-Yo said something back but you couldn’t make out what she had said. 

He broke the kiss, panting lightly as you both stared at each other for several seconds before he shook his head and you let out a giggle. Those two had to be the strangest and funniest couple you’d ever met. 

You felt his hardness against your thigh and you rubbed it. Damn, he was huge. You couldn’t wait to feel him inside you, stretching your walls.

“You ready for Daddy to eat that pussy?” he asked as he took a step back, looking you up and down. 

Was the sky blue? Hell yeah, you were. 

You nodded enthusiastically as you pulled your dress over your head, tossing it onto the floor. He watched you undress with hungry eyes, palming his erection. Once you took off your bra and panties you sauntered over to the bed, sitting down slowly before spreading your legs. 

He yanked off his shirt, revealing his large chest and broad shoulders, throwing it on the floor with your pile of clothes. He followed you up the bed, pulling on your legs to bring you closer to his face. 

“Damn shawty,” Fontaine murmured as he rolled your clit between his thumb and forefinger, licking his lips at the captivating way your pussy glimmered in his dimly lit room. “All for me, huh?”

"All for you, Daddy," you sighed deeply in anticipation as you felt his breath on your sensitive cunt. His nose brushed against your clit, causing your thighs to tremble slightly.

Leaning on his forearms, his large hands rested atop your lower belly as he licked a warm stripe from your wet slit all the way to your clit, flicking it twice before closing his mouth around it. You could already tell that you wouldn’t last long.

“You taste good as fuck,” he praised, dipping his tongue into your hole, tasting your fresh juices. He slid his finger in, stretching you slowly as he licked around your clit, strong tongue pushing you closer to the edge. 

"Oooh just like that," you held the back of his head, moaning loudly, "Don't stop."

Your back arched off the bed, bringing your pussy closer to his talented mouth. Your thighs began to shake as your climax loomed. The sheer pleasure was almost too much for you. You tried to force your thighs closed, but Fontaine's hand pinned you down. He had you exactly where he wanted you.

You inhaled sharply and sank back against the pillows as he inserted a second finger, pumping you faster.

“Fuuuuck!” you moaned even louder. 

He softly nibbled your clit, and the coolness of his golds was all it took to send you tumbling over the edge.

“I can feel it,” he moaned against your sensitive bud, slurping up all your juices, “Let it all out for Daddy.” 

His filthy words and the calculated flicks of his tongue had your mind whirling and your heart pounding. Every mind-boggling wave of bliss flooded through your veins, causing you to shiver uncontrollably as you tugged on his locs. At the moment, you couldn't form any words. All you could do was pant harshly and let out all kinds of obscene noises.

When he finally felt your body go limp, he pulled off your clit and eased his fingers out of you. Fontaine planted a few soothing kisses on your thighs before sitting up.

Your eyes were still closed, and your breaths were finally slowing, but you could feel his eyes on you and hear him sucking his fingers.

You peeked through one eye and found him kneeling over you, completely naked now, stroking his massive dick as he watched you with a mischief glint in his dark eyes. 

“I see you smirkin’, nigga,” you blurted, pointing at him as you glowed blissfully.

He tried to cover his smile but you saw it anyway. He playfully smacked your hand and said, “I was just tryna make sure you wasn’t ‘bout to pass out on a nigga.” 

“Yeah, yeah..”

He continued to stroke his dick as he lay on his back beside you. You turned your head to the side to get a better look, and your mouth watered at the sight. 

"Come taste this dick," he commanded as he watched you ogle it.

You sat up on your knees and leaned forward, taking it in both your hands. He had to have been eight or nine inches in length and was very girthy; his dick curved to the left too. It had been a while since you gave head, but you were determined to make him feel good. 

You wrapped your lips around the tip. It was warm and velvety against your tongue. You let the soft feel of Fontaine's dick run over your tongue, relishing the taste as you took him down as far as you could go, breathing through your nose. He hissed lowly as the wet heat of your mouth engulfed him. 

You licked a wet stripe up and down the length of his shaft before rising up to close your lips around the crown, stroking the rest of his rod swiftly. 

You glimpsed up at Fontaine through your eyelashes. The heated stare he gave you was enough to make you feel lightheaded. His golds flashed at you as he sank his teeth into his bottom lip. The sight had you dripping for him.

He moaned your name, stretching out his legs as he cupped the back of your head. You swirled your tongue around, drawing out a long groan from him as you flattened your tongue down the underside of his tip. He lifted his hips, thrusting up as he held your head in place. 

You moaned as he fucked up into your mouth, your left hand braced on his knee while the other fondled his balls. Tears pricked your eyes as you hollowed your cheeks and sucked him down as much as you could, gagging briefly as the tip of his dick slipped down the back of your throat.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he gasped as he halted his movements and gripped your shoulder, “Stop before I nut.” 

You pulled off with a loud pop, placing one final kiss onto the swollen, spit-gleaming tip before climbing up his body and crushing your lips against his in a sloppy kiss. His big hands roamed all over your body, squeezing your supple ass while he kissed you back just as sloppily.

"Aight, lay back for me," he murmured, breaking the kiss and pushing you onto your back, moving with a skilled quickness to put the magnum on before slotting himself between your spread legs. 

He lined himself up against your entrance, dragging his dick up and down your wet slit, only stopping to tap his fat tip against your sensitive clit, making you gasp and jerk beneath him in anticipation.

He slowly pushed inside, and your mouth fell open, but you quickly closed it, fighting back the scream that was about to escape.

“Shit,” he groaned deeply, pulling out a little once he was halfway in, and sinking back in, watching your pussy stretch around him. “You squeezin’ a nigga.” 

The pressure of the stretch stung, so you just bit your bottom lip, clung to the sheets and breathed deeply through your nose until the feeling subsided.

“You good?” he asked, voice laced with concern, stopping all movement when he realized just how quiet you were being. 

You opened your eyes, and his worried eyes swept your face, looking for any sign of pain. It was almost as though he was splitting you in two. You had to take a few more deep breaths in order to relax.

"Yeah, I'm good," you assured him as you let go of the covers and clung to his arms. "Your dick is huge, Fontaine goddamn."

He grinned at your confession and pulled all the way out before plunging back in, damn near knocking the wind out of you. 

“Oh my god,” you gasped, legs spreading wider to grant him better access. 

Once he was buried deep inside you, you let out a moan so inviting that he couldn't resist lowering his head and capturing your lips with his. You stroked his cheeks and tugged him closer, kissing him with all the fervor you could muster.  

“Shit, you feel good,” he praised, moaning softly as he began to circle his hips. 

“Please fuck me harder,” you sighed deeply, hands moving down to cup your breasts.

He straightened up and began to thrust inside you, picking up the tempo once he established a good rhythm. Soon, the room was filled with the sound of your wetness, his hips slamming hard against yours, and heavy breaths.

“Fontaine,” you moaned breathlessly. He groaned in response as he was beginning to love the way you called his name. 

“You look so pretty takin’ all this dick,” he praised, grip on your thighs tightening as he fucked you even faster. Warmth spread across your chest at the praise, and more wetness oozed out of your tight hole.

His hand slid up your body, squeezing your breast while the other bounced freely. Listening to him groan and grunt in delight was music to your ears, and it made your clit throb harder.

The intensity of the pleasure washed over you until it was all you could feel pulsing through your veins. He was fucking you so good. When you realized how loud you were being, you snapped your mouth shut, stifling your moans.

"Nah, I want to hear you,” he growled low in your ear, thrusting harder and deeper, “Tell me how good Daddy dick feels.” 

You couldn't help but whimper as he brushed against that sweet spot deep inside of you. “You—ah shit—feel so fuckin’ good!”

“I’m hittin’ that spot, huh?” Fontaine chuckled cockily, gold chain dangling against your chin. 

“Yesss Daddy! Ple—please don’t stop,” you begged. 

“What a nigga get if he don’t stop?”

“Anything!” you cried out, squeezing your legs around him and holding onto his shoulders as he pounded you into the mattress. “Shit— Fontaine I’m ‘bout to cum,” you breathed shakily, toes curling as your eyes snapped shut. 

“I want that shit,” he grunted loudly as he felt your walls contract around him, “Cum all over this dick.” 

You sank your teeth into his shoulder, biting down hard, muffling your screams of pleasure as your orgasm ripped through you. He sucked in a sharp breath at the pleasurable pain and as your cunt clenched so tightly around him, cumming hard, creaming all over his dick.

He whispered soothing things to you as your body convulsed in his arms. He held you tighter as he traced kisses all over your face and down your neck, shifting his rhythm back to a gentle rock. 

Once you came to your senses, you opened your eyes and gasped at the teeth marks you had left on his shoulder.

“Oh shit Fontaine,” you whispered as you traced the bite mark with your thumb, “I ain’t mean to bite you.” 

“Nah, you good,” he huffed, shrugging his shoulders, “I’m actually into that shit.” 

“Good to know.”

He waited a few more seconds before pulling out. He climbed off of you, kneeled on the bed, and scooched back to give you room to move, “Hands and knees, Y/N.” 

You happily obliged by rolling onto your stomach and arching effortlessly on your hands and knees.

You and Fontaine moaned in unison when he entered you in one swift motion, hips smacking against your asscheeks as he set a brutal pace. This must have been his favorite position because he wasn’t fucking around this time. Your desperate whimpers and the wet sound of skin slapping skin filled the bedroom once again. You took every inch he gave you, arms stretched out in front of you, fingers gripping the sheets as you rocked back against him. 

“Yeah, that’s right,” he grunted as he smacked your asscheek, “Fuck me back just like that.” 

His grip was so tight on your waist that you knew your hips would be sore in the morning. The thought alone made you wetter so you threw it back even harder.

It didn't take long for Fontaine to elicit another orgasm from you, causing your knees to buckle and slump against the mattress. He followed you down, chest pressed against your back, still pounding his thick dick inside you and panting against your ear.

As he placed all of his weight on you, his large hands wrapped around yours, fingers intertwining as he continued to give you the best dick you'd ever had. He was grinding so hard and deeply into you, muttering filthy words in your ear. The boundless pleasure was starting to become overwhelming. You couldn't cum again. You were almost certain that you'd pass smooth the fuck out if you came a fourth time. You needed him to cum. 

“Fon—fuuuuck! Please cum for me!” 

“You want Daddy to nut?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you whined, eyes rolling back as he brushed against your g-spot yet again. 

“Aight, c’mere,” He rose back up on his knees, tugging you along with him. You braced yourself on your hands and knees. He slowly rocked into you a few times before setting a merciless pace, fucking the breath right out of your lungs.

“Goddamnit,” you rasped, “You fuck me so good!”

As he repeatedly hammered away at your g-spot, all you could do was grab the sheets and scream his name. Hot tears welled up in your eyes. As your walls tightened around his fat dick, you trembled, gasping and whimpering. You were a mess. Another orgasm blasted through you, taking you both by surprise and blurring your vision. It took all your strength not to fall forward as your thighs shook violently.

Fontaine grunted loudly as he rutted against you like a mad man, smacking your asscheeks over and over, chasing his own orgasm. He let out a low, guttural groan, thrusts faltering as he twitched inside of you, cumming hard. 

You both panted harshly and were completely fucked out. Arms and legs weaker than SWV.

He trailed kisses down your sweat-glistening back before pulling out of you. Once he was free, you slumped all the way forward, your head resting against a pillow. He carefully pulled the condom off, tied it, and tossed it into the bin beside his nightstand before plopping down next to you. 

Still splayed out on your stomach, you scooched as close to him as you could, cupped his face, and just gazed down into his eyes as you swiped your thumb across his hairy cheek. 

He mirrored your gaze, his eyes less intense than usual, and wrapped his arm around your waist, massaging small circles into your lower back with the pads of his fingertips.

After a prolonged moment of silence, in-tune gazes, and soft caresses, you broke the silence and said, "That was fuckin' amazing."

He nodded his head in agreement so you asked him, “When can we do this again?” 

“Whenever you want,” he said before pulling you down into a tender, biting kiss. He sucked in your lower lip and licked into your mouth teasingly. You tugged on his bottom lip, softly sighing as you ran your tongue across his golds, shifting so you were half on top of him, chest to chest.

Good, you thought. Because you definitely planned on sticking around. Good dick and conversation? There was no way you were passing that up. 

“Goddamn ‘Taine! You ain’t have to upstage a pimp like that!” Slick Charles hollered through the walls. 

You broke the kiss, gasping at the random outburst. 

“Nigga, shut yo retired ass up!” Yo-Yo said just as loud.

Fontaine tried to hold it, but one look at your amused face had him chuckling and shaking his head fondly at his roommates.

#they cloned tyrone #they cloned tyrone fanfiction #they cloned tyrone fanfic #they cloned tyrone fic #Fontaine x reader #fontaine x black reader #black reader insert #John Boyega #my fics #wakandas-vibranium #black writers #black fanfiction #black fanfic writer #tct mf

[daydreamingsirens]

It starts with a simple text.

You tryna fuck or nah?

Well shit he couldn't get more direct than that. You liked that about him, he didn't fuck around; he told you what he wanted and when.

And that's where you found yourself. Face down, ass up with his arms around her hips and his face buried in it.

You hiss as he slaps your ass and presses the flat of his tongue against you and drags it up slowly, laughing as he feels you turn into a quivering mess. Not to be outdone or laughed at, you throw your hips back and sway from side to side.

“Is that all you fuckin' got? You woke my ass up for this—ooh.” he closes his lips around slick flesh and slurps. You took that as your cue to stop talking, spread your thighs wider, and press your chest into the quilt. He moves back and surveys his work, watches rivulets of spit drip down into the covers before he straightens up and slides his dick through the mess.

“It wasn't like you was really sleep though. I mean unless you fall asleep with ya phone in hand, waitin' on my texts and shit. Obviously you wanted this dick.” he gives you a silly ass look and you roll your eyes.

“Keep lookin' like that and I'mma take my ass back to sleep, fool.”

“Nah,” he barely presses the tip inside, just enough for you to feel it and moves back before you can thrust back on it, “what you gon' do is take this dick right here. Now throw that ass back and quit fuckin' playin'.” He holds his dick steady as you throw your hips back and sheath him in one smooth movement before he grabs your hips and thrusts without a second thought.

“Ooh s-shit.” you moan and buries your face in your arms as he smacks your ass hard, the sound vibrating around the otherwise silent room.

“Yeah, throw that shit back.” he meets you thrust for thrust, his bruised hands splaying across your lower back as you move, slapping sounds filling the room. He hears your muffled whines and grabs your hair, pulling your head back up, “Now what was you sayin', I need you to repeat that.”

“I s-said—ooh—fuck me like you mean it. Fuck me like you fucked up whoever you fought earlier.” he tugs your hair a little harder as he pistons his hips faster, feeling you clench and loosen whenever he'd dig his nails into your hip. He strokes over your spot and you holler.

“Yes! Right there, fuck, right there!” sweat drips down your face and you doesn't give a single fuck that you're sweating your hair out or that you might wake someone up as you grip the quilt and cant your hips back and feel one palm connect with the thick flesh of your ass and the short fingernails on the other hand dig even further into the skin on your hip.

“What's my name?” he says as he tugs your head back up, wrapping the soft strands of hair around his hand.

“Fuuuuuuuuuuuck, Fontaine!” you sob as you feel yourself gush. He pulls almost completely out and slams back inside, making your knees wobble and the bed frame shake dangerously.

“Fuck yea. Scream that shit baby, I can't hear you!”

“Fontaine! I-I'm cum—ah!” you scream as you reach your peak. Fontaine slows his pace and fucks you through your orgasm before he cums inside of you and collapses on your back.

“Mm. You gon' wrap my hands up before I gotta shimmy down ya drain pipe in an hour or nah?” you roll over and throw him off and onto the floor with a grunt.

“Maybe, now let me lay here and think about my life for the next twenty minutes.”

#fontaine x reader #fontaine x black!reader #fontaine x black reader #they cloned tyrone #they cloned tyrone fanfiction #fontaine smut #cr0wnwritesit

[theeblackmedusa]

he's cute

summary: "he cute. ain't right for you, though."

pairing: fontaine x black!fem!reader

warnings: 18+, language, smut, bit of a breeding kink, fontaine's kind of toxic if you squint, needles/sutures, descriptions of blood/violence, use of n word (idk why i'm warning about this but yuh), also there's a lot of AAVE in this so if you "correct" my grammar in some of the dialogue pls don't 💀

He knew he shouldn't be here, but he had nowhere else to go. He was hurt and tired and wanted you to fix him up because he always seemed to heal quicker when you did it.

Fontaine swallowed the lump in his throat as he raised his hand to knock on your green door. You were the only person in the world that made him nervous and he fucking hated it. It had been that way since you were kids. He could face any bully, stand up to any unfair teacher, but his mind went blank when it came to you.

He inhaled as deep as he could manage without sending a stabbing pain through his body before tapping his knuckles against the wood and then returned his hand to his stomach to hold his bleeding wound. A few long seconds passed before your voice came from inside.

"Who is it?"

"It's me," he grunted out weakly.

The locks clicked and Fontaine prepared himself for the wrath you would unleash when you opened the door and let your eyes fall on him. He did his best to stand up tall when the door began to creak open, but it was no use. He looked like shit either way.

"What the fuck, Fontaine?!"

Usually, you'd be concerned when Fontaine showed up on your doorstep bloody and bruised, but all you could feel at the moment was frustration. He'd told, no, promised you that the fighting would stop and that you wouldn't have to see him at his lowest anymore, but it was like he couldn't stay away.

"Got in a fight-"

"Really? I hadn't fucking noticed!"

Fontaine ignored you as you ranted about how he wasn't keeping his word when he was supposed to always keep his word to you. He couldn't focus on how upset you were because it would only get him upset with himself for making you that way.

He pushed past you as you cursed at him for going out and "being stupid" again.

"Isaac still ain't learned to keep his lil punks away from-"

"Always Isaac. Always Isaac! The way y'all fight, I'm surprised it ain't turned to fucking yet!" you laughed bitterly as he carefully lowered himself onto your couch, groaning all the way down.

"Why you all dressed up?" he questioned, switching the subject in hopes that it would make you stop fussing.

You looked good. Really good.

"I got a date, who should be here any second now, so you need to get out before he comes."

Fontaine scoffed at the fact that your pretty black dress and sexy red lips were for someone else. You should be his, but you can't be. Not with all the shit he gets himself into. As bad as he wants you, he can't put you in a position to be hurt just for being important to him.

"Date?"

"The fuck are you, a parrot? Yes, Taine! I have a date!"

You shut your door and stood in front of him, taking in the sight of him.

He looked truly pitiful, cuts and bruises forming on his dark skin. His shirt was soaked from the blood coming from his gash and he looked exhausted overall.

"What happened?" you sighed.

"Just a lil stabbin'. Nothin' I couldn't walk off-"

"Taine-"

"That's all it was," he told you.

"Did anybody-"

"Nah. Ain't nobody got killed," he assured, knowing your concerns.

It had always been a fear of yours. You hated all the violence and death, but more specifically, you hated the thought of that violence and death coming back to bite Fontaine in the ass one day. This neighborhood was full of hotheads and you'd hate for one of them to make Taine a target because somebody died at the hands of him or somebody he was associated with.

"You can't keep doing this, Taine,"

"I won't."

"Promise me."

He shook his head, pushing his hand deeper into his wound for pressure.

"You know I can't do that no more. I hate breakin' my promises to you."

Before you could respond, there was a knocking at your door and you rolled your eyes.

"That the date?" he asked, turning his head to the door.

"Probably," you huffed. "You and your bad fucking timing, Taine. Go hide in the back bedroom or something."

His eyebrows raised in amusement. This was becoming a game for him.

"Oh, you hidin' me and shit? Fuck nah, I been around the longest he gon' have to accept that," he argued. "Matter fact...come in!"

Your eyes widened at his antics and you searched for the closest object to throw at him, but your door was already opening to reveal your very confused date for the night.

"Fuck you," you mouthed to Fontaine before turning to the door.

Your date wasn't even looking at you. Instead, his eyes were planted on Fontaine, who, despite his battered and bruised state, had his grillz on full display as he smirked up at the other man.

"Kalen, hey," you finally greeted, an awkward attempt at breaking the tension in the room.

"This how you roll?" he asked, using a hand to gesture to the bloody man on your couch.

You shook your head, hoping to defend yourself.

"I know how this looks, but I promise to explain later! I-"

"You got other niggas on ya couch and you tryna explain shit? I'm done with yo ass. Thought you was tryna start somethin' for real, but you out here with other dudes."

Kalen was one of the resident hotheads, and arguing with him was pointless.

Fontaine quietly grumbled something that you refused to pay any mind to as you watched Kalen turn right back around and leave, slamming your front door behind him.

You inhaled deeply, Fontaine still mumbling under his breath about how you need to leave "bitch ass dudes like Kalen" alone.

If he wasn't one of the closest friends you had, you would have shut his ass up with a punch to the mouth by now. All you wanted was a night out with someone who could potentially get your mind off of a plain and simple fact: You and Fontaine were not and would never be together.

Every time you thought about it, your heart cracked, but it was something you had to accept. He didn't see you in the way he saw other women, so you'd have to settle for men that couldn't hold a candle to him.

"Could you shut the fuck up, Taine?" you snapped, walking to your bathroom to get the first aid kit.

The faster you patched him up, the faster he would get the fuck out of your house. Next time, you just wouldn't open the door for him. That would save you a hell of a lot of trouble.

"You always get with these bum niggas and get mad when they show that they crazy!" he yelled from the living room.

"He only got that way 'cuz you brought your bullshit to my house!" you shot back, pulling the bathroom drawer open with so much force that you were surprised you hadn't ripped it straight off. "I could have been having a peaceful night with him, but no! I'm here with no man babysitting your ass!"

He rolled his eyes at your sass and began struggling to shrug his jacket off as he awaited your return with the first aid kit. After his jacket, his bloodstained shirt followed. Now, he was shirtless and trying not to let his blood spill all over your couch, knowing that you'd stab him again if he messed it up.

Finally, you returned with a warm towel, a sewing kit, matches, and first aid. You had half the nerve to put it all away and kick his ass out on the street and let him fend for himself, but you cared too much. You always did and sometimes you hated it.

"Hold this," you ordered, shoving the matches and sewing kit into his lap before you took a seat next to him, making sure to plop down and make him jerk slightly.

"The fuck is wrong with you?! Be careful!" he gritted out, glaring at you sharply.

A sarcastic laugh escaped you.

"You aren't careful out there in the streets getting stabbed and shit. Why should I be careful with you now?"

He didn't respond, too exasperated with the night he'd had to entertain any of your taunting about it. He simply turned to you to allow a better angle for you to start cleaning him up.

You pulled out the towel and started dabbing the large, deep cut that spanned across his stomach. It almost made you feel sick. If it had been too deep, he wouldn't be here with you right now.

As you cleaned him, it was as if he could read your thoughts. He sensed your mind racing one hundred miles per second as you went through the "what ifs" of the night. He knew it was impossible to erase those thoughts for you. He was a drug dealer, after all. There was danger in the job, but he could help pull you out of them briefly.

"So, why the fuck you goin' on dates with these lames?" he questioned, exhaling in a vain attempt to fight the stinging of the towel on his injury.

You shrugged.

"Need someone to talk to, I guess," you responded shortly, not keen on telling him that these "lames" were unworthy attempts to make up for the fact that you didn't have him.

"You got me, Yo-Yo...Slick," he replied.

You shook your head. You and Yo-Yo were close, yes, but you and Slick? Not so much. It was like talking to a crazy uncle that should have been put in a retirement home a long time ago.

"I need...something else, Taine."

Dick, you thought.

You were starved of touch and you were getting desperate. You needed intimacy and you were searching for it in men that weren't even the one you wanted it from.

"Like?" he pressed as you put the towel down and began to burn the end of the sewing needle, preparing to stitch him up.

Fontaine was a lot of things, but he wasn't stupid. He knew what you were getting on about, but he liked to hear you say things. Sometimes you wondered if your embarrassment amused him.

You huffed, knowing that he wasn't going to drop it.

"I don't know, Taine. I just need something new. The vibrators ain't cutting it anymore...I need a man, sex," you admitted in frustration, warmth in your face as you tried to fight the embarrassment of your confession.

"You was finna fuck Kalen tonight?" he laughed, attempting to cover up the panic he felt inside at that revelation.

"Maybe not tonight, this time was just gon' be a date!"

Lord knows you won't take me on one, you thought, pushing the needle into his skin to start the sutures and making him hiss.

Fontaine's fingers curled into the arm of the couch as you stitched him up, eyes screwed tightly shut as he tried to steady his breathing.

If he hadn't pissed you off so bad, you'd imagine if this is how he'd look if you were on your knees for him, taking him deep into your throat and making him lose his breath.

"He cute, but he ain't good for you," Fontaine rasped through gritted teeth, finally breaking the silence that had fallen between the two of you.

"But you are?" you snapped.

"I ain't say all that," he defended.

"But that's what you meant."

Silence took over the room once more as you finished the stitches and examined your work. Once you assured that you'd fixed him up properly, you grabbed an alcohol wipe, ready to clean up the more minors scars.

"I just...Ion like him, (Y/N)."

You shook your head, gently wiping a scrape on his shoulder and sighing.

"Taine, if you didn't have every bitch in this damn neighborhood begging to sit on your dick, maybe I'd listen to what you have to say on this," you started. "But, I just wanna have fun and fuck around. Not worry about if somebody's good for me or not."

He couldn't fight it this time. Usually he could hold his tongue, keep back that confession that was constantly trying to rip through his body, but this time he couldn't. He couldn't stand the thought of you in somebody else's bed or kissing on someone that wasn't him. He wanted you, and he needed you to want him.

"We can't have fun and fuck around?" he asked you, grabbing your wrist and stopping your movements.

Your heart was beating in your chest rapidly. It was as if it was banging its fists against you in an aggressive plea for you to free it from your body.

You averted your eyes to anything else but him. They settled on the floral print in the curtains until he used his other hand to grip your chin and make you look at him.

"We can have a lotta fun, baby. What you say?" he suggested lowly, leaning into you so close that his lips were just barely touching yours.

You could have all of him if you wanted. You could've had him a very long time ago, but there was always that unspoken thing between the two of you. The elephant in the room that you two mutually decided was invisible.

"Taine," you breathed out.

"Let me show you how much fun we can have."

You weren't in control of yourself. It was as if his eyes had paralyzed you. Now, you were just his little rag doll as he lifted you in his lap and turned you so that your back was to him. You couldn't recall the exact moment it happened, but all you knew was that his hands were now groping your breasts over your dress as he attacked your neck with hot kisses.

"Them niggas out there can't make you feel the way I can, mama."

You shuddered at the nickname. "Baby" had been something he'd called you casually for as long as you could remember, but "mama"...that was new. And it made your stomach do a somersault as you imagined it.

You could picture yourself as a mama for his children. Waddling around plump and being pampered by him for carrying his baby. A soft moan escaped you at just the thought and he grinned into your neck.

"You like that? You wanna be a mama?" he asked, running his thumbs over your nipples until they hardened.

You almost broke your neck nodding in response.

"I can make that happen," he told you. "Fuck my kids into you. Make you mine for real."

An aching grew between your legs at that. You'd be trapped with him forever. No matter what went down between the two of you, you'd always be his, always have a piece of him. The thought shouldn't turn you on as much as it did, but you could feel your panties soaking from it.

"Take this off for me," he instructed softly.

You obeyed without question, standing up to slip out of the black dress. Seconds later, you were in nothing but the lacy black underwear you'd put on "just in case" you decided to let Kalen get somewhere.

Fontaine frowned at the panties and reached forward gripping them at the band before tearing the fabric. If he hadn't been spewing that shit about making you a mommy, you would have been pissed. Those were expensive.

You were completely bare in front of him and a little self conscious, but Fontaine was staring at you like you were the lottery and he'd just won. You were perfect, dark skin glowing in the moonlight that shone through the curtains, thighs that he couldn't wait to get between. How on Earth could he have resisted you for so long?

"Shit, mama. Don't think I can wait to get inside you."

You couldn't wait either. You'd been needing him.

"Then take that shit off," you told him with a sickeningly sweet smile, nodding to his pants and belt.

He only chuckled low in response and did as told, unbuckling his belt and throwing it to the side somewhere. Next, he lifted his hips, wincing as he lowered his pants down to his ankles.

Before he could start on his underwear, you were lowering yourself to your knees in front of him and pressing your cheek against his thigh. He shivered at the feeling of your warm breath.

After what felt like forever, you lifted your head, pressing a kiss to each of his thighs before pressing one to his hard cock over his underwear.

Fontaine sighed as you brushed your lips against him, teasing him mercilessly.

"Cut that shit out," he warned, eyeing you dangerously.

You smiled before pressing another kiss to the tip and bringing your hands up to the waistband before curling your fingers underneath.

"So bossy," you sighed, pulling his underwear down and letting them fall with his pants.

"Yeah, the boss say get ya pretty ass up here and take a seat."

Your core throbbed at the demand and you raised yourself up to straddle him, fingers gripping his cock and aligning him with your entrance.

Fontaine captured your lips in his, getting a taste of you before he took you. There was no going back. You both knew it.

Finally, you lowered yourself on him, both of you groaning from the sensation. The stretch stung in the best way as you tried to accommodate his size. You had to sit still to adjust, forehead resting against his until you got the courage to move.

Your pace was slow at first, still adjusting to the fullness of him inside of you, but soon, your speed increased, hips rolling against his as you rode him.

Fontaine wasted no time getting his hands back on your tits, massaging one while he worked his mouth on the other. He was addicted to them, watching them bounce as you skillfully worked his cock.

Eventually, your arms found their way around his neck as you leaned on him for support, ass bouncing as you fucked him. Fontaine cursed, letting his hands fall to your bottom to spread your cheeks more.

If the stab wound didn't kill him, you sure fucking would. He raised his hand and brought it back down, striking your ass and revving you on. He'd keep the desperate whimper you let out at the blow in mind.

"Yeah, that's it. Twerk that pretty ass on my dick, baby."

Your ass slapped against his thighs as you rode him, desperate to reach your high. You were so close. You began to feel weak, and he could tell as your pace slowed down.

"I got it, baby. I got it."

He wrapped his arms around you, stilling you against his chest as he began thrusting his hips into you, the tip of his cock hitting a delicious spot inside you that made you want to scream.

You could feel your orgasm coming like a tsunami ready to crash into you. All that was escaping you were incoherent noises as Fontaine fucked you stupid.

"Tight pussy squeezin' me," he grunted, words becoming slurred as he approached his own climax. "Let that shit out for me, mama."

As if you were hypnotized, your body responded, orgasm washing over you as your walls contracted around him, bringing him to his release as well.

Fontaine spilled into you, warm cum coating your walls as you went limp against him. His hips slowed before stopping completely and he let out a long exhale as he tried to recollect his thought.

"You have fun, baby?" he finally asked when he caught his breath.

If you had the energy, you'd slap the hell out of his cocky ass, but he'd just fucked you into exhaustion and his cum was steady leaking out of you, making a mess all over your inner thighs, so you went with the next best alternative.

"Shut the fuck up or I'm taking them damn stitches out."

•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•—•

let me know if you'd like to be added to either a john boyega or teyonah parris taglist bc i'm about to go crazy with them

tags: @wakandas-vibranium

#fontaine #fontaine x reader #fontaine x black!reader #fontaine x black reader #they cloned tyrone #john boyega #fanfiction #fanfic #black writer #theeblackmedusa🐍🐍

[slippinninque]

Fontaine, Seduced

(alternatively : Fontaine Tries To Be A Gentleman But You Aint Ask Him For All'Dat)

Warnings: 18+, SMUT, Minors DNI, long fic, cursing, use of the n-word, thirsty Fontaine, ramblings, slight corruption kink, praises n' begging, P-in-V, light bondage, Slips' First Smut

A/N: So sorry for the wait! Sooo, this is in answer to the anon who asked how Fontaine would be if he was trying to hide his nasty. i really hope i did you proud! I've

He...may have a problem.

There you were, the light of his life, seated on the floor and in a nest of your own making. Blankets and pillows spread with you nestled in it's center. A skein of yarn to your left as whatever it was you were creating grew in your lap with snacks to your right.

Absolutely adorable while you watched an old western with him. Fontaine knew you were warm and soft as a cake from your shower and shea butter, he could smell your hot chocolate with every sip you took.

Your furry socked feet rubbed together in your contentedness and every so often, you'd lean back on Fontaine's legs to look up at him until he leaned down to kiss you.

He wanted to see you cry.

It was terrible, he was terrible. You've been nothing but good to him and here he was wanting to see those pretty eyes rolling. It was a problem, he knew it.

Still...

He wanted to bend and twist you, he wanted to hear how close he could get you to screaming. Fontaine wanted to bite from your neck to your ankles, he wanted to ruin your sheets. He wanted to ruin the back seats in his ride, take you on a walk and lay you down beneath the moon and hear you call for him.

Fontaine knew how pretty you'd be taking his dick down your throat and he wanted to see it first hand.

But....it was you.

He could imagine wrapping a hand around those pretty locs and tugging them down to swallow his dick, but he wasn't sure if he could bring himself to do it.

Because it was you.

What if he hurt you? What if he did something you didn't like and you didn't tell him?

What if he scared you?

The idea alone distressed him.

He wouldn't risk it. Fontaine wouldn't risk anything when it came to you.

"Tea time? I think its tea time."

Your words drew him from his thoughts, movie long forgotten as he watched you stretch. You rolled partly onto your side, humming and unaware of the chaos you were causing as your cami rode high and your nipples pebbled beneath the fabric.

"You want some tea?"

You were laid out into your back now, lost in a other stretch and Fontaine took a breath and nodded.

He was fine.

It was fine.

:::

It was not fine.

"I know it's a lot, but I made a promise." You sighed, looking over your shoulder and into the full length mirror in the back of the bedroom door. Fontaine sat only a few feet away, the polishing his sneaker in the same damn spot.

The promise was modeling a line of beautifully crafted crystal-bikini sets. Your locs were piled up carelessly as you struggled to clasp the top piece.

Fontaine has never seen anything like it, but you often ran with an artsy crowd. You often brought home strange and beautiful things to either model, store, or complete.

He really he hoped that you get to keep this one.

"You good, baby, you good. Tell what's it made of." Fontaine cleared his throat and stood, coming up behind you to take over.

"Fluorite and clear-quartz, you can see the lil' silver bells, right?" she said. "It reminds me of those flapper girls! But without the, uh, middle part, y'know? Look!"

You took a step back and twisted your hips with a soft, "Swish, swish!"

Fontaine whistled lowly. All he saw pretty titties and tasty thighs. When you turned and bent over a bit, wagging your bottom at him, he moved before thinking.

He cracked you right across the ass.

You squealed, putting your hands on your cheeks and looking at him with wide eyes.

"Ooh, shit, my bad baby!"

Fontaine's heart fell into the floorboards, regardless of giggle fit you were in. He pulled you close with one arm, pressing apologetic kisses to the top of your head while his free hand rubbed your cheeks.

What the fuck was he thinking? Okay, he's gave you a little pop every now and again but that--that was out of line.

'You fuckin' up, nigga.'

"It's okay, it's okay. Really, it was really the sound that surprised me--okay?"

Fontaine looked you in the eye, saw your glimmering eyes and the giddy smile. He kissed your cheeks, wanting to feel your blushing face.

Then he nodded.

You kissed him on the lips, then had the nerve to bat your eyes at him.

"Y'know...I do get to keep this."

:::

"--od, Big Dawg?"

Fontaine's head snapped up and saw that Big Moss was trying to pass him a blunt. He shook his head at himself, taking the blunt and then taking a pull.

Big Moss shook his head as well, "C'mon, tell me what's up."

"I'm good, 'Moss. Jus' got a lot on my mind."

"Is it about your lil' shawty or somthin'?"

He grunted. Feeling his stare, Fontaine turned to face Big Moss who's expression was expectant.

"Well? Tell ya mans what's goin' on!" On went the fan and Fontaine knew it wasn't going to be let go.

He took another hit and passed the blunt back, "She's a good girl. Ain't like the others I had, I ain't gotta tell you that. Can't treat her like normal."

"Can't treat her... normal?"

"Can't treat her normal, y'know wha' I'm sayin'?"

A beat of silence. Then Big Moss' eyes widened in understanding,

"Oh! can't trea--yeah, a'ight, I see, I see."

Fontaine sighed and told Big Moss about losing himself when you were trying on the bikini-set, how bad he felt.

"Did she feel bad?"

"What?"

"I know you heard me, nigga. Like, did she cry or cuss yo' ass out? Get up and leave? anythin'?"

Fontaine didn't have to think hard to recall your smile, the breathy way you laughed, "...No. She wasn't mad. I was the one most fucked up by it."

Smacking his lips, the Big Moss put a hand on Fontaine's shoulder,

"Lemme tell you somethin', this yo' first Good Girl--ain't it? I'll tell you somethin' about 'em. The sweetest little faces be hiding the nastiest shit, cuz."

Fontaine scoffed, unbelieving. He recalled your inexperience at the beginning of your relationship. You were nervous but you did make up for it in unlimited enthusiasm...

"Hmn."

Big Moss continued, "I'm telling you, man! She's probably shy 'bout some shit and just need a lil encouragement from her man. Trust me on this, Big Dawg. I've seen how ya'll are--"

His free hand went up innocently at the look Fontaine gave him,

"All I'm sayin' is that ya'll rock with each other. Work with her, man. It'll all be cool in the end, ya dig me? Whatch it be something small, I'm tellin' you!"

Fontaine thought about it.

Then he nodded. Big Moss nodded back, handing over the blunt and not bothering to hide his grin.

:::

Fontaine had a plan.

He was thinking about it every since he left Big Moss, their talk still echoing through his head.

'Take it slow if you that worried, Big Dawg.'

'Moss was right. Fontaine took it slow made sure to be careful when dealing with you, and it's gotten him nothing but sweetness and warmth back.

He went to your place without even thinking and you welcomed him in with an excited smile. That smile grew nearly manic when you saw the take out in hands.

He took in your plushy romper and slippers as he followed you into the den. That winter weight that you've been commenting about was nothing but God and Fontaine knew to be grateful.

"Damn girl, whatchu been up too?" He rose a brow at the whirlwind of yarn and notebooks.

"Ah, just trying to keep hands busy!" you said with an embarrassed little laugh. You hurried to make space for him on the couch, moving your next to the floor after tossing down a few blankets.

You went onto your hands and knees, spreading out all the corners and pulling a few seating cushions closer. Fontaine followed the lines of you, right to the lil' bit of booty that was peeking out.

"You gonna be sittin' away from me?" Fontaine mumbled, eyes stuck to your ass.

"I'll come closer." You promised with a coy smile, then told him to get comfortable. You asked if he needed anything as you both settled down.

Fontaine nearly purred at your care of him, reminded of how good he had it with you.

He just had to go slow. Get used to checking himself, making sure he wasn't doing too much. Fontaine would contain himself.

A soft touch brought him outside of his head.

"Whatchu doin' down there, pretty?"

Your hands slid up his jean clad thighs and aimed those bright eyes at him. You still laid your cheek on his knee, still rubbing as you blink slowly at him without saying a word.

Fontaine's tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. He wasn't prepared for this. All he could do was nod and you gave him a candied smile as you pulled down his zipper. He groaned inwardly, bracing himself as the lust for nearly boiled over.

He was trying to be a good.

Your soft hands found his dick already half hard. Fontaine shifted to make more room for you, utterly enthralled by the way you licked your lips and wriggled closer.

A few pumps were all he needed and without preamble, you slipped his dick right to the back of your throat.

His ears rang and he finally released the remote he's been clutching, arms going out to span the back of the couch. What the fuck was this?

Your head went in small bobs, never letting the head of Fontaine's dick from the back of your throat. Your tongue was wet and wonderful. Nearly serpentine as you jerked the base of him, pulling back and giving his tip saccharine kisses.

He breathed heavily, hips jerking only once before he remembered himself. You hummed disappointedly and pulled back, looking at him with a small frown

" 'Taine, you need to relax." You still stroked his length, "Are you not into oral, we don't have too--

"Naw, that ain't it," Fontaine interjected quickly,

You rewarded him with another wet kiss to his tip, "Then why aren't you putting this where it belongs?"

He blinked as your words rang through his ears, the sweetest faces...

"You always go stiff as a board when I'm down here, never let me stay as long as I want." you sniffed and rubbed your lips against his dick.

His voice was faint, "I ain't want you to think you had to."

"I'd love to, Fontaine, that's the thing. More than often, preferably." You sighed, "I love that you're careful with me, but have you ever...wanted to...not be?"

Fontaine's hands balled where they were still up on the back of the couch.

You made the face when you were going to be really patient with him about something. Your gave his dick another kiss, soft as silk.

"Would you still be into me if I wasn't acting sweet all the time?"

He never understood whiplash until this very moment, but Fontaine focused when he saw the furrow in your brow.

"I don't care how you act, you're gonna still be mine at the end of the day." Fontaine was certain there was nothing that you could go through that he wouldn't be there to stand with you.

"Exactly. You ain't gotta be on your best behavior. You have me and all I want is you. How ever you are. I'm yours."

You laid it out so easy for him, the right words strung together to settle perfectly in his mind. Your words, your words...

Fontaine sat up, his focus zeroing in on you. Your back straightened as you continued.

"So what if I want to act...like-um..."

He sat up, "What? You wanna act up, pretty girl?"

The way you rubbed your thighs together in anticipation ignited him. You were a delicious little morsel on your knees trying to ask if you could swallow his dick again.

The sweetest fuckin' faces...

Fontaine reached out and cupped your cheek, his thumb running across your lips. Your brown eyes were nearly black with a craving similar to Fontaine's.

He gently wagged your face, "Tell me what you want, baby."

"Everything."

He chuckled lowly at your whining and leaned in close enough to brush your noses together.

"You know what you askin' me?"

"You said you'd give me anything I need, didn't you? I need you, Fontaine."

Your voice carried off into a gasp, Fontaine had reached behind you and gathered your locs up into a gentle hold before tugging. With your head drawn back, Fontaine had the pleasure of seeing your pink tongue sweeping across your lips.

"You look hungry, pretty girl."

Your answer was a breathy little moan. Fontaine groaned as he leaned in to claim your lips, his reason slipping into the back seat of his mind.

:::

Arms tied behind your back, you could only rock and whine in Fontaine's lap as he pinched and plucked your tender nipples. One hand pulling the satin scarf that he used to bind your hands. It kept you taut and nearly immobile, enough for him to move you as he pleased.

And move you he did. Sometimes releasing your hands to grip at your waist, leaning up to kiss you or lying back and watching you.

The most nasty things flowed from his delectable lips and he definitely wasn't shy about giving your ass a few swats now.

Fontaine has been wringing orgasms out of you like honey from it's comb. The longer it went on, the more it felt like you were being devoured.

On your knees, away from the couch and up against the wall, folded up in recliner, now back on the couch.

Fontaine has never treated you this way. It was sublime. Gone was his careful touches and tender passion. Fontaine fucked you with a single minded determination, content to relish your ecstasy.

"This is what you wanted, pretty thing? Am I givin' you what you need now?"

You nodded, exhaling sharply as he ground into your sweet spot. Tears sprang to the corner of your eyes at the sweet-hurt of being overwhelmed. You needed more to fall over the line, but you didn't want it to end.

You made desperate noises as he backed off enough to leave you on the edge, "Ye-Yes! Yes, 'Taine-- please, please--!"

He kneaded your ass, rough as he moved you on his dick. The pressure had you releasing a sound you didn't know you could make.

Fontaine's echoing moan shadowed a grin, "That's it, tell me who I am. Tell me who's this pussy's for."

"Yo-You, Fontaine, you..." You babbled, "It's yours, it's yours!"

"And it feels good?"

"Mmn, yesss..."

"Is it too much?"

You shook your head. Fontaine's brow lifted and pace sharpened, ripping a keening gasp from you.

He purred as your eyes rolled back and sat up to meet you chest to chest, using one of his hands to squish your cheeks together.

"Use your words, beautiful. Is. It. Too much?" He husked against your lips, pace frustratingly slowing once again.

Your answer was to bite his bottom lip with the best growl you could muster.

Fontaine muttered something you couldn't hear and then he was leaning back, putting his hands on your thighs and driving up into you in earnest.

It felt like running through fire, seeing ever color at once, knowing the name of every star. All through it, Fontaine continued muttering to himself, no longer concerned with holding you steady.

"Mnh, look at that face. Finally gettin' what you wanted. Acting like like I ain't gonna give you what you ask for--that you can't tell me?"

"It wasn't like that." You whimpered at his hands on you again, reaching down to spread you around him. You gasped and lost balance swaying forward to press your forehead into his shoulder. When Fontaine slowed his pace again, you distantly hoped you'd be awake if he ever decided to cum.

"Don't worry," Fontaine's voice was gravel, "Imma teach you good. We'll find out how much you can take, hm? Together."

You were trembling and your brain was probably slush by now, but you've seen the appeal of being greedy.

Fontaine could still give you more, you still wanted more. Together, you could tear down the fences that kept you from each other's pleasure.

You leaned back enough to mash your lips to his, drinking down his pleased moan.

You didn't care how long it took, you wanted this man to tear you apart and piece you back together.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

PHEW

thank you for reading! this took literally too long and it still feels rushed, but I really wanted to challenge myself! Please let me know what you think, any tips would be greatly appreciated as well!

taglist: @megamindsecretlair @thadelightfulone @mag1calenchantr3ss @cocoeffects @wide-nose-and-wonderful @8ttached @thadelightfulone @hobiesmain @thickeeparker @longpause-awkwardsmile @ms-angiealsina @educatorsareslutstoo @mysterychick93

(let me know if you want to be tagged!! 💕💜🌟)

#fontaine x black reader #fontaine x reader #they cloned tyrone #fontaine fic #please let me know what you think #fontaine x black!fem!reader #fontaine x black!reader #fontaine #Fontaine x you #fontaine smut #they cloned tyrone fanfic #john boyega fanfiction #they cloned tyrone fanfiction #fontaine x blackfemreader #Fontaine x black!fem! reader

[hearteyes-for-killmonger]

Hood Nigga Deluxe

Fontaine × Black Reader

Supposed to be one part but I'll split it for the sake of posting something. 💕

Part 2

Idea: You fell underneath the warmth of a self-proclaimed hood nigga for Spooky Szn and you've got a big secret that he doesn't know and you can't tell him.

Tags: smut, smoking, blood play, dark romance

Right now, you're in the Dunbarton Green 1976 Pontiac Gran Prix next to Fontaine as he lights up, the flame on his blunt bright in the night with the lights off. He came by late to say hello after a long day and to see if you felt like fucking him.

Of course you do. Fontaine is his own category, specially made to drive you feral. It's everything about him.. custom made. He's your boyfriend. He just doesn't know it yet.

Your seat is back, your braids are pineappled for optimum confort, and your window is down, letting in the crisp fall air while you share his blunt, filling your lungs.

It's a smoother kick compared to other wraps. It's got a distinct and earthy flavor with a hint of sweet from the tobacco. The sweet and thick cigar cigarillo scent fills your nostrils as it flows out the window mingling with the clean air.

Back and forth, the two of you pass it, giving grace when one of you hangs onto it a little too long. It's relaxingly quiet, even with the voices of a few guys from the neighborhood somewhere near. They're hootin' and hollerin' in the distance, out of sight... It's like a hood ass meditation track for people who enjoy white noise.

"Why do you think they call it white noise?" You hand the blunt back. "Is it still considered white if it's black people making it?"

"Yeah. You're fried." He takes his turn on the blunt as you watch him with eyes slit. "I never thought about it. It probably has to do with frequencies. All of them at once, none distinctly different."

"Distinctively," you smirk up at him.

He takes another pull, letting it flow from his lips. "Or maybe niggas is racist."

"Hm... Sounds about right."

There's a view of your apartment building in front of the car, so you just lay back casually and watch who's going in and coming out. It's a calm night. You look across the console, rubbing Fontaine's shoulder and down his thick arm through his grey cotton hoodie, trapping it in your grasp like a blanket. His hoodie feels soft and cool on your clean face, and it smells like his signature scent, a hint of soft jasmine and mimosa mixed with smoke. "Mm," you hum in ecstasy. His eyebrows wriggle ever so quickly.

"I've been meaning to ask you--what are your plans for Halloween?"

"Hm." He takes an unhurried moment to think. "I'm not for the door to door. I figure a few of the boys will wanna go out--find a party." He smokes. "You got plans?"

You sigh. "I was actually gonna ask you if you wanted to do some white people shit with me... You know how they do, pumpkin patch and shit," you murmur, playing absently with your nails.

"You mean go apple picking and drink hot cinnamon apple cider or pumpkin spiced lattes?" He smiles briefly in a rare show of teeth. You know it sounds corny as hell, and he's laughing at it, but you really wanna do it. "I know what you mean," he allows. "They got a nice pumpkin patch at that farm outside the city."

"You wanna go with me?" You sit up, hoping. Your eyes bear into him as you hold onto his hoodie sleeve.

"Sure. Why not."

"Aight," you shift, suddenly energetic. "I'm ready now." You unlock the doors waiting on him so the two of you can stroll together. You like it when he parks a little bit further back from your building to give you more steps before you hit the door, especially when the temperature is comfortably cool like this.

One inside, you lead him on the familiar, short route to your apartment. "Mouth bout dry as Rihanna's coochie when Drake's in the room," you mutter.

"The only thing I don't when I smoke."

He tugs off his sneakers, then his hoodie, draping it over the island as you walk backward to watch the muscles revealed. He's not paying attention, but you don't wanna miss the striptease. He's a thick, muscled baddie, cut, but with a layer of healthy fat that keeps him juicy. Next is his thin white t-shirt, which leaves him shirtless in a silver rope chain. He doesn't know how fine he is, and even more, he doesn't care.

You toast his bottle with yours, taking a big sip and sitting it on the island as you ogle his chest and sleeve tats, feeling like a slut. Even his Adam's apple as he chugs.

"That's enough," you grab the bottle, replacing it with your lips in a vacuum seal. You grip his locs, drinking in the unswallowed beer spilled into your mouth from his and sucking the remnants from his tongue. The hoodie coming off your body over your head disconnects you for a moment, but you pull him in again in the same way. You feel his fingers on the back of your bra, unhooking, the freeing drop of the bra from your shoulders, and his light touch running down your spine to the top of your waistband, pushing your matching Zara sweats to a cloth puddle.

Impulse takes over.

He doesn't react, except for a low "Ok" as you sink your teeth into his smooth, thick neck trap, sealing your lips onto his skin. His attention remains on squeezing the flesh of your ass in his tight grip.

"Mm," you hum when his finger slides into your cucci purse. You bite deeper, savoring the smoothness of the blood, and the flavor of warm iron as he slips in his second finger, curving them both sweetly.

"This what you like?"

"Mmhm." You dig through locs into his scalp, your breasts flush to his chest where you can feel his strong mortal heartbeat. Lost to reason, you lock him in place while you drink him in, in sexual ecstasy, only pausing once you re-gather the discipline.

"Open."

His fingers slimy wet with your own essence find their way past your reddened lips, mixing with his blood and fondle your tongue, cleaning themselves and reaching back into your throat until you grab his wrist with both hands. His fingers slide out against your bottom lip, bringing out a cloud of bubbling thick spit that blobs down your chin.

"Since you like to suck."

"You are so perfect," you murmer, sliding your fingers through the trickle of burgundy nectar building on the side of his neck to smear red down his chestnut chest and abs into the front of his sweats. It's like fingerpainting.

With a churning motion, you add the sticky spit from your chin to the hand of blood and watch it blend into his even complexion. All his dick is an even shade of healthy brown with a slight sheen of moisture, emphasized by your mixed fluids. It's delightful in the most sinful of ways. The smell of metallic love emanating from his length draws you to your knees.

"You gone keep playing with it or put it on your mouth," Fontaine asks, calmly waiting, his hands loose at his sides. One thing about Fontaine--he's an observer. He likes to watch you, especially in your unhinged moments when you're dick drunk and churning it desperately in two hands like the essence of life lies in his cum and you'll expire if you don't get it. He's a man of little words, but he's never frazzled no matter what manner of depravity you unleash.

"Master," you keen, submissively wrapping your arms around his thighs, your cheek pressed in the space next to his elevated erection as you watch the subtle bounce, the remnants of blood and spit still present on your chin.

"You ready for me to take over?"

"Yes," you pout, your voice suddenly small.

He guides you onto his dick by your pineapple of braids with a second hand firmly but gently holding your head in one place while he uses your mouth, forcing it wide and thrusting, his cockhead pressing against your palate with the subtle taste of iron.

"Bad girl," he grunts.

You wine, holding the back of your head after Fontaine delivers it a stern bop for biting him and takes his dick back.

"I couldn't help a tiny nibble," you grin impishly, not sorry for your little transgression. What's a little pain? Especially when his swollen thick skin-wand was pulsing in your mouth, full of fragrant and vitamin rich blood in your favorite flavor--Type O. "I could even feel the under-vein on my tongue," you laugh, head back like a naughty leech. His incoming hand around your neck is welcome.

"Looks like I have to teach you what a dick is for." He tosses you over the back of your couch, keeping a hold on your throat. His warm wet tip encirles your clit, popping it to send a sensation through your body.

"Please," you gasp, feeling his lips tickling against your ear as he sinks past your labial folds into your depths, filling you to the brim with dick and letting it marinate. Every time he so much as moves, he strokes the nerves, tingling and giving chills. You feel the sensation heighten the rougher he is and the harder the collision.

"Beat it up, Fontaine." Your moans build, eyes rolling back. As a woman who cums from penetration, you live for a big broad dick digging out your lower abdomen to the degree that you can feel it with your hand on the outside. Fontaine has that kind of dick. The kind to turn you crazy. It's why you're the way that you are now.

He covers your mouth, preferring your silence so your body does the talking, squirming under the weight and intensity of his tried and true tailored to you thrusts.

It feels like a deep cucci swedish massage where the cucci getting beat down when he stuffs you, pressing on the sensitive soft tissues of your fleshy walls. Even he's entranced by the sound, wet and squishy as he stirs. It's Crack. Straight backshots until you have your strong orgasm like he needs the money and rent is due.

You watch him as he redresses, helping him adjust his clothes to look as fresh as he did when he came in. Not that he cares, it's late and he ain't doing nothing but going to see a guy about some money. You know what that means, but he's careful what he tells you and what he involves you in. You know glimpses, nothing incriminating. You both prefer it that way.

"I'll call you... I ain't forget what we talked about," he turns, taking his beer on the way out.

This is y'all relationship. Sex, smoking, freaky shit, and a friendship somewhere within. There's an unspoken friends with benefits type of understanding, but that's about to change. You wanna be official and something is telling you that this October is your season to make that happen.

@dashhoney25 @lettidarawest @soufcakmistress @ljstraightnochaser @princessstevens-blog @eye-raq @thiccdaddy-mbaku @destinio1 @iamrheaspeaks @hidden-treasures21 @bidibidibombaclaat @forbeautyandlife @blowmymbackout @misspooh @thotyana-in-this-hoe @purplehairgawdess @thegucciwaffle @goddessofthundathighs @theegoldenchild @thadelightfulone @sultanabby @mysticalblackhottie @baekhyunbabybunni @fd-writes @richonne4life @goldieccentric @thehomierobbstark @capswife @blackpinup22 @harleycativy @lishabaybeee-blog @playgurlxoxo @beaut1fulone-blog @blackerthings @syndrlla97 @ladymac82 @browngirldominion @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @uzumaki-rebellion

#dark romance #fontaine #they cloned tyrone #john boyega fanfiction #they cloned tyrone fanfiction #they cloned tyrone fic #original #black reader

[chaneajoyyy]

Y’all have Fontaine fanfiction???

#let’s chat #sip tea #talk fontaine fanfiction #talk they cloned tyrone fanfiction #talk john boyega fanfiction #fontaine x black!reader #fontaine fanfiction #they cloned tyrone fanfiction #john boyega fanfiction

[turquoizxe]

4 𝐏𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐋𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

Fontaine x Black!Fem!Introvert!Reader

Installation (1.5/2) : The Shit We Do

Rating ― Adult (18+)

➝ The official second installation takes place months after you reunited with Fontaine, so I'll fill in the holes (while Fontaine fills yours) about what you two have done in between those months together.

Author's Note: Uhh packing for my dorm is an ass and has been taking up most of my time these past couple of weeks besides family things, but I didn't wanna leave you guys hanging while I get to work on college. Enjoy!

𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩 ― Fontaine being a softie for you, fluff, adult themes, drabble bcs I miss ya'll :,)

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 ― use of vulgar language, sexuality, mentions of drugs, and other adult themes.

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 — 0.7k

Fontaine finding his way back to you was easily one of the best things that has happened to him.

Actually, it is the best thing that's happened to him.

You were sure that your family would have a heart attack if they knew the relationship the two of you now shared.

You had no plans of giving your heart to anyone else, and the same went for your pussy. It was his, and it always has been.

The memories that you had shared in high school were beyond the title of best friends, and you both knew that.

However, being able to fully flesh out these feelings in adulthood was something you thought wouldn't happen; those fantasies were only held by hope.

So the day you reunited with Fontaine ― the night Fontaine blew your back out and popped your cherry for the first time, you were sure it was a dream.

...That was until you realized that he was in your kitchen making you breakfast the morning after.

You had spent so much of your life worried about how people viewed you and judged you based on who you hung out with.

You had finally embraced what you two could be, hoping that Fontaine felt the same.

I'm pretty sure both of you had lost count of all the bullshit you got into following that day.

Fontaine never stopped having weed on him, and you never stopped smoking it― after a long day of work, your lover is always willing to share a joint with you or make you your own.

He still had his mint green Pontiac, the letter you wrote for him sitting in his glovebox, clearly tampered with more than once.

Speaking of it, you also lost count of all the places you fucked ever since you two been together. You couldn't help how much shit you two talked together, got you in trouble more than once.

"Taine', the movie's getting good." "mmtch, ain't nobody worried about that shit but you."

The back of his card in the middle of a drive-in after Fontaine decided that the skirt you were wearing was far more entertaining than the romantic comedy you wanted to see ―

"Fuck, I'm gonna come again-" "Gimme that shit baby."

back on the couch after you both got high together after a rant about your workplace, bent over once again after you innocently asked for him to shotgun because you were too lazy to roll a blunt yourself that day ―

"Shit, Fontaine." "Yeah, say that shit."

the kitchen counter, your pretty pussy on display as Fontaine seemed to be hungry for something else that day.

You were like 90% of the predicaments you ended up in because of your gestures, but he knew what you wanted, and he definitely gave it to you. And sometimes, you bit off more than you could chew.

And unfortunately, your mouth got you into trouble in more ways than one.

You two argue playfully more than anything, but when things got serious..

"The fuck you mean clones? Fontaine, I know you smoke weed, but don't be on that other shit!"

Fontaine didn't see you get mad often, and he didn't like it when you were, especially if the resolution was so easy. But him explaining clones to you was far from it. You were damn near convinced that he was smoking crack until you saw it on the news the next morning, and that's when you let him back in your apartment to fuck the attitude out of you.

In some ways, Fontaine felt as though you still acted like a damn kid. Yo mama jokes, reciting lines from the movies that you two used to watch growing up.

"All my life I had to fight!" When you were only fighting for the last bag of doritos. "Since you got your degree, and you know every fuckin' thing, when you would grammatically correct Fontaine to piss him off. "He's a good man, Savvanah, a very good man!" When you confessed to your friends that you and Fontaine were official.

The shit you two did together was beyond the comprehension of the outside.

And luckily for both of you, it was only your business. Fontaine appreciated your bold spirit when you were together.

But, he was searching for the bold side of you to make her appearance.

Unfortunately for your introverted ass, he was determined to make that happen.

𝙏𝙖𝙜(𝙨)

@blowmymbackout | @wakandas-vibranium

#they cloned tyrone #they cloned tyrone fanfiction #fontaine x black reader #fontaine x reader #john boyega #fontaine fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic recs #fanfic #black writblr

[emjayewrites]

SYNERGY (2/12)

SYNOPSIS: Tatianna "Tati" Mason, an avid John Boyega fan, is caught in a thunderstorm one night. A lightning strike transports her to an alternate universe and to her astonishment, she soon discovers that she is dating John Boyega himself. In this magical realm, she experiences firsthand the love and affection he exudes on-screen, but now it's directed at her. As she experiences the enchanting world of her dreams, she navigates the intricacies of being in a relationship with a celebrity she idolizes. She learns the realities of John's life beyond the public eye, the pressures he faces, and the genuine person he is beneath the fame. Eventually, Tati must grapple with the inevitable: staying in this alternate reality or returning to her own world.

PAIRING: John Boyega x Tatianna "Tati" Mason

WARNINGS: drama, angst, cursing, explicit sexual content, not-so-glamorous life in the entertainment world. RATED M (18+)

TAGLIST: @melaninpov, @melanin-goddess-world, @cocobutterqwueen, @judymfmoody, @blackreadersatrisk, @merranerra, @life-in-the-slut-house, @hopefulcyclestarlight, @shar74nett, @goldieccentric, @mochachocolatteyaya, @blackerthings, @wakandas-vibranium, @kemkem101 @whoopigol-barnes @ihearteddiemunson @hxneyclouds @blackerthings @certifiedlesbianbaddie

If you want to be added to the taglist, please let me know.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This series is set from late 2022 (September) to the present.

Chapter II: Jumpin' The Broom?

After breakfast, and still reeling from her conversation with John, Tati went upstairs to get ready for their appointment at Boodles. Her mind was racing with questions.

What the fuck is she getting herself into? What life is this version of herself living?

She had always admired John, not just for his talent but for the values he stood for and the way he inspired others. The idea of exploring a future with him was both exhilarating and daunting, and not her life, at least not this version.

Tati entered the spacious en suite bathroom, her reflection in the oversized mirror looking back at her with a sense of wonder. This life was a stark contrast to her life in New York. The massive townhouse John owned dwarfed her small Brooklyn studio, not to mention living in Paris and attending her dream school; this was everything she'd ever wanted.

As she showered and got ready, her mind continued to race with doubts. That tiny voice in the back of her brain beckoned and tried to convince her that this was just an elaborate cosmic joke and she couldn't get caught up in her feelings. But her heart told her otherwise. The connection she felt with John was real, and this world, no matter how strange, was now a part of her reality.

Besides, she'd much rather be stuck with John's fine ass instead of being locked up in a psych ward. For now, and much to her delight, she had to play the role of the alternate Tati.

After dressing in a chic yet comfortable outfit she found in the closet, she notices a delicate crystal perfume bottle on the vanity. It emanated a scent that seemed oddly familiar, like a distant memory.

Vanilla and orchid with a hint of sandalwood.

Intrigued, she hesitates, then gives in to the impulse, spritzing a cloud of the fragrance around her. Suddenly, she feels a peculiar sensation, as if reality itself is shifting.

In an instant, Tati finds herself standing in a quaint, candlelit Parisian bistro. She's wearing a halterneck dress, and across from her is John, looking dashing in a silk shirt and matching pants. Their laughter fills the air as they share stories, their connection palpable.

"So how long are you in Paris?" he asks her.

"Two years," she says timidly.

"Then back to New York?" wonders John and Tati nods her head as she takes a languid sip of her wine. "That's a shame, but I figure something'll have you staying here longer than expected."

"Like what?" Tati inquired, curiously.

"Me," John quipped without a second thought. John reaches out to touch her hand, a gesture that sends a shiver of electricity through Tati. Their eyes meet, and in that shared gaze, there's a mutual understanding that goes beyond words: she was never going back to New York City.

Suddenly, like a snap of fingers, Tati is back in John's London home, the scent of the perfume lingering in the air. She's left breathless, the experience so vivid that it's as if she truly lived it.

"Holy shit," she whispered to herself as she set the perfume bottle back on the vanity. Whatever that moment was — déjà vu or something else entirely — changed her.

Am I having visions now? Flashbacks?

Shaking her head, Tati tried to push those thoughts aside in order to focus on putting on her shoes. Things were getting weirder as the days went on, and she had to play it cool and try to piece everything together.

"Babes?" called John. "The car's here."

"Coming!"

She made her way downstairs to find John waiting for her. His easy smile and a light kiss on her temple reassured her of any worry she had, and they headed out together to the awaiting car.

Boodles was an elegant boutique nestled in the heart of London, known for its exquisite jewelry. As they entered, the soft chime of a bell announced their arrival, and a friendly sales associate greeted them.

"Good afternoon," the associate said with a warm smile. "How may we assist you today?"

John stepped forward, his demeanor confident yet charming. "I've made an appointment with Peter," he said, casting a meaningful glance at Tati. "We're here to look at engagement rings."

Tati felt her cheeks flush, and she smiled in response. The associate nodded, understanding the significance of the moment. "Of course, right this way."

They were led to a beautifully appointed display area showcasing a stunning array of engagement rings. Diamonds of various cuts and sizes sparkled in the soft lighting, each one more captivating than the last.

The associate motioned for them to sit, and they both obliged; taking a seat on the most comfiest chaise lounge chair known to man.

"Peter will be out soon," the associate informed them. "Would you like anything to drink? Champagne perhaps?"

John let out a soft chuckle. "Water will be just fine for me." He glanced over at Tati and placed a hand on her thigh, squeezing it slightly. "What 'bout you, babes?"

"Uh..." she stammered then eventually shrugged. "Sure, I'll take a flute of champagne."

The associate smiled widely. "Of course, I'll be right back." The associate left quickly and within minutes, arrived back with their beverage orders and Peter in tow.

Peter was a rather tall man, much taller than John, with peppered hair cut low and almond-shaped brown eyes. John immediately stood to shake his hand and the two men exchanged a quick chat before sitting back down. Peter's eyes focused on Tati, and he gave her a welcoming nod.

"Is this the infamous Tatianna?" Peter asked John, smiling brightly.

"Yes, it is," John mentioned excitedly, wrapping a protective arm around her waist. "Future Mrs. Boyega."

Future Mrs. Boyega...I kinda like the sound of that.

"Welcome, Tatianna, we're very pleased to have you and John here today," spoke Peter as he gestured to the display of engagement rings. "As you can see, we have rings of various sizes and cuts. One of my personal favorites is the princess and pear cut. I think that the style is timeless and fits well for any bride-to-be."

As Tati examined the rings, she couldn't help but be drawn to a particular design. It was an elegant Ashoka diamond set on a band of white gold, a delicate and timeless piece. She pointed it out to John, her voice filled with awe. "John, look at this one. It's breathtaking."

John's eyes lit up as he examined the ring. "Is this the one, babes?"

"You have impeccable taste, Tatianna. It's stunning," Peter murmured, his gaze shifting between her and the ring. "This is a three-carat Ashoka cut diamond set in a vintage design with a beautiful white gold ring. We can try it on if you'd like."

"Oh, I don't think—"

"She'd love to," John interrupted, shooting her a quick look. With his furrowed eyebrows and pursed lips, Tati could easily sense that there was no way she could get out of this.

She was going to try on the ring, plain and simple.

Peter removed the ring from the display case and carefully placed it on the fourth finger of Tati's left hand — the ring finger. Tati marveled at the way it caught the light, casting a dance of rainbows across the room.

"It's beautiful," she breathed, her heart fluttering in her chest. "But, John, this... it's a lot. I mean, this is crazy, right?"

John's expression softened, and he took her other hand, his touch warm and reassuring. "Not really, babes. I knew you were the one since our first date. It's been a crazy year and a half, but I've never been more certain in my life."

Tati met his gaze, her eyes shimmering with emotion. In that moment, she felt a profound connection with him, one that transcended the boundaries of the reality she once knew. It was as if she were destined to be here, in this extraordinary alternate universe, making choices that would shape her future forever.

With a determined yet gentle smile, Tati looked back at the ring. "Then this is the one. It feels right."

John's face lit up with joy, and he leaned in to press a soft kiss to her temple. "I couldn't agree more, love." He gave Peter a wide, boyish grin. "Let's box this one up, mate."

"Excellent choice, Tatianna. Congratulations," Peter said. "I'll draw up the invoice and then we can get settled on payment."

As they finalized the details with Peter, Tati couldn't help but feel a sense of wonder. Reluctantly, she gave the ring — her ring — back to Peter to be wrapped and she sat back in the lounge chair to settle her erratic thoughts.

This cannot be my life, she thought in amazement. Holy-fuckin-shit.

John and Peter continued to chat, their voices trailing indistinctively as Tati slipped into a reverie.

"Babes?" called John, adoringly, his hand rubbing small circles on her back. "Should we get a matching necklace as well, or maybe earrings?"

"Sure", was her only response.

"Let's get both, Peter," John confirmed, winking suggestively in Tati's direction.

____________________________________________________________

Several hours and thousands of dollars later, Tati and John settled into the plush seats of Brasserie of Light for a late lunch. Tati's mind was still abuzz with the events of the day. The ring that they'd picked out felt like a promise, a symbol of the extraordinary turn her life had taken.

The soft glow of candlelight bathed the room, casting a romantic aura around them. John's eyes never seemed to leave Tati's, his gaze warm and unwavering. He reached across the table, his fingers entwining with hers.

"To us," John toasted, his smile radiant.

"To us," Tati echoed, her heart swelling with a mixture of gratitude and wonder. They clinked their glasses together, sealing the moment in time.

As the evening unfolded, the conversation flowed effortlessly. Tati couldn't help but marvel at the depth of John's character and his genuine kindness. He was almost too good to be true.

Then, in a moment of whimsy, John leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

"Remember that rainy day in Paris?" he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

"That was..." she began, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Unforgettable," John finished, his eyes filled with a depth of emotion that rivaled her own. "I knew that you were the woman for me from that kiss alone."

Tati's breath caught in her throat. It was as if he had plucked the memory from her very thoughts. The world seemed to blur around her, and suddenly, she wasn't in the restaurant anymore.

She was back in Paris, the city of lights glistening around her. The rain fell in a gentle cascade, painting everything with a sheen of magic. Tati and John stood in the narrow street in front of her apartment building, their laughter mingling with the soft patter of raindrops.

John's warm hand gently cupped Tati's cheek, his touch a caress that sent shivers down her spine. His eyes bore into hers, a silent promise passing between them. And then, he kissed her.

It was a kiss that spoke of longing and connection, a kiss that tasted of rain and dreams. Time seemed to stand still, the world around them fading into insignificance. Tati's heart thundered in her chest, every nerve ending alive with electricity.

When they finally pulled away, their breath mingling in the cool air, Tati felt a sense of exhilaration wash over her. It was a moment she had treasured in her heart, and now, it was etched into her memory forever.

As the vision faded, Tati blinked, finding herself back in the restaurant, her heart still racing. She looked at John, her eyes wide with wonder.

"Oh...wow..."

"Yeah," he said, oblivious to what had happened to her. "I love you, Tatianna."

Still in shock of undergoing yet another vivid vision and John's profession of love, she mustered a garble of words together before saying those precious three words back to him.

"I love you too, baby."

The rest of the evening passed in joyfulness. They savored each moment, knowing that this was a chapter in their story that would be told for generations to come.

As they stepped out of the restaurant, the early evening air crisp around them, John turned to Tati, his gaze steady and unwavering.

"I have something I want to ask you, babes," he said, his voice filled with a quiet intensity.

Tati's heart skipped a beat, anticipation coursing through her veins.

"Would you come to South Africa with me?" John asked, his eyes holding hers in a steady gaze. "For the promotion of 'The Woman King'? I want you by my side, babes."

Tati's breath caught in her throat. South Africa, a new adventure, a new chapter in their shared story.

Without hesitation, she smiled, her heart brimming with certainty. "Yes, John. I'd love to."

And, it was in that moment, that Tati declared that she was never leaving this reality.

TO BE CONTINUED.....

#john boyega fanfiction #john baeyega #john boyega smut #john boyega fluff #they cloned tyrone #john boyega x black female reader #john boyega x black oc! #john boyega x reader #synergy #emjayewrites #john boyega

[megamindsecretlair]

I wish you would write a fic….

with a submissive Tyrone.

Like he’s hesitant at first, not really with it, but as it goes on he opens up a little bit more. I think he’s think he’s too tough to “wine” or “sound like a bitch”, but maybe reader convinced him somehow, and while he doesn’t eventually makes some sounds he begs more with his words, he gets all squirmy and he keeps chasing his hips you reader’s touch….. or something like that. 🫣

Ask and ye shall receive, sweet anon!

Pretty (Pretty) Boy

Pairing: Sub!Tyrone x Dom!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. FILTH. PWP, cursing, PIV, oral (male receiving), teasing, cum swallowing, dirty talk, praise kink, D/s lite, breeding kink if you squint, all consensual. Use of n-word. Referring to female anatomy as "she".

Summary: See ask. For Valentine's Day, you decide to shake things up. You ask to take control in the bedroom and it unleashes a side of you that you want to see more often.

Word Count: 4,946k

A/N: This ask been kicking my ass!!!!! It has been in my box for so long, I am SOOO sorry, anon! I definitely got in my head for too long and didn't think I could pull it off. Whew! I had a bad day and this absolutely cured me. I need to lay down!! Sorry about the wait, but I hope you enjoy! Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!

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“Can you at least try to enjoy it?” You pouted at Tyrone’s scrunched up face. You had tied him to the headboard because you knew your man. You knew that the things you had in mind were going to make him want to grab you and touch you. 

And once he started touching you, he would get his way. He always got his way. Not that you were complaining. Tyrone was addicted to your body and couldn’t help but touch all your smooth curves. But you had been floating this idea in your mind for a few weeks and tonight was the perfect night to try it. 

For Valentine’s Day, you asked Tyrone… if you could be the one in charge. Just thinking about having the entirety of this man at your mercy had you clenching your thighs beneath your robe. 

He tested the restraints by tugging on them. “You tied these a little too good. You been takin’ notes,” he said. He gave you a smirk, licking his lips and tilting his head to try and get a peek beneath your robe. 

You grabbed his chin and pushed his face to meet yours. You gave him a quick peck. “If you’re good, you’ll get rewarded,” you said, dropping your voice to a silky purr. 

You saw your words sink into his eyes. They rounded for half a second before his eyes drooped. “Aight, aight, but I ain’t no bitch,” he said. 

You gave him another peck. “Of course not,” you said. You gave him a wink and finished checking over the restraints and that he couldn’t secretly get out. You made sure the ties were well out of reach of his long fingers.

Those fingers were capable of bringing you intense pleasure and deftly worked over every inch of your skin. If he could get out of the ties, he absolutely would take over. 

The sweet, subtle aroma of honeysuckle and orange flower blossoms filled the room from the candles you had lit. The lights were dimmed giving it a completely intimate feel despite it being a basic room you were overly familiar with. 

You glanced at Tyrone as he watched you, a bit wary. You giggled. “I ain’t gon’ hurt you. Don’t you trust me?” You asked. 

“I trust you. I just..Ion know about this one,” he said. 

You leaned down once more and got close to his face. “Hey, we have a safe word. At any point you want me to stop, I will,” you said and pecked his nose, knowing he secretly loved that shit. He relaxed onto the bed, the rumpled sheets beneath him bunching up. 

“Come on then, baby. Show me what ya got,” he said.

You grinned and stood up, surveying your work. He looked damn good, sitting up against the headboard like a concubine. He still wore black briefs fit snug over his lower half. So plump and thick in thighs and ass that you wanted to take a bite out of him. 

You held yourself back and then told him you’d be right back. You went to your phone on the dresser and turned on your “Grown” playlist on Spotify. The deep croon of Ro James floated softly through the speakers and you left the room. 

You went to the bathroom, nerves bubbling in your gut but you stamped it out. Tyrone was being brave and letting you play out a fantasy of yours so you had to be brave as well. You took a few deep breaths and let your other side come out. Let your inner freak rise to the surface and completely take over. 

You looked good, he looked good, and you were getting everything you wanted and then some. So you threw your shoulders back and admired your sexy lingerie. You checked over the baroque garter belt with the straps pinching pleasurably into your thighs. The thigh high fishnet tights were flushed against your legs and your bra had your girls looking lovely. 

You left the room and walked back to your room. When you opened the door, Tyrone’s eyes snapped to yours. Heat brushed all over your skin as you walked further in and he took in your outfit. 

His briefs began to tent a little with evidence of his arousal standing at attention. You walked over to him, giving a dramatic swing of your hips. You trailed a finger from his legs to his thighs, to his stomach. His stomach contracted as you reached higher and he inhaled sharply as if you burned him. 

“Got damn,” he said, licking his lips. He moved his hands forward but was held back by the ties. He looked up and cursed, a smirk on his lips. “Forgot already. I really can’t touch you?” He asked.

“Ion know, maybe if you ask nicely,” you said. 

You bent down and grabbed the bottle of lotion there. It was unscented, but it would do the trick. He looked at you funny until you squirted some in your hand. He watched as your hands descended on his legs, rubbing the lotion into his skin.

“What you doin’?” He asked.

“You take care of me all the time. I want to take care of you. Now sit back and be quiet,” you said. You gave him a stern look and he smiled. 

“Yes, ma’am,” he said. 

You smiled, pleased that he was trying in his own way. You rubbed his legs and feet. He was jumpy by the time you got to that point, not used to anyone touching them. You kept it brief since you weren’t at the torturing stage yet.

Your eyes flicked to his as you worked on the other leg, an evil smirk on your face. He had no idea what he was in for. Was this how he usually felt? Drunk on power that he could do anything he wanted to your body and you would enjoy it? And you had no fuckin’ clue?

You advanced up to his thighs. A tiny sound escaped him, too low for you to hear what. He smiled at you to cover it up, biting his bottom lip and sitting back against the headboard. His eyes were lidded.

“Aren’t you being a good boy,” you said. 

“I like to please,” he said. 

“Mhm, you like to tease,” you said. You worked his massive thighs, spreading lotion all over. It was such a small thing, but you were mesmerized by the way the lotion sunk into his bronzed skin. 

He had a smattering of hair on his thighs as you relished in the feel of him. The power in his thighs alone. He could crush watermelons and you thought about how you were going to ride him.

You had been debating how to do just that once he said yes to doing this. Your pussy clenched thinking of riding him reverse cowgirl. Bouncing on his dick while you fondled his balls. Or you could ride him cowgirl and dig your nails across his chest. You could watch his face while you selfishly took what you wanted. 

The back of your neck tingled. You probably shouldn’t do this too often in the future if he was open to it. You were entirely too excited to use him like your own personal sex toy. 

You bent low over him while you pretended to work a problem area. A part of your arm grazed his dick and he hissed, ending with a small sigh. You pressed kisses to his stomach, intentionally skipping his dick. But your mouth was close enough that a little dip to your chin would bring your lips to the base of him. 

“You are the most amazing man ever. Do you have any idea how much I love you?” You asked. You peppered your praise in between kisses. “Do you have any idea how happy you make me?” 

You looked up at him while he had a wide smile on his face. His toothy grin brightened his face, making him as open as you've ever seen him. He was usually scowling, so damn serious all the time. His mind stayed on his money and his lady. You smiled at the joy you saw there. 

“Shit, got a nigga blushin’ over here,” he said. If you weren’t mistaken…his voice was a little thick with emotion. 

You weren’t going to point it out so you kissed his dick through the fabric. “You’re doing so good for me, Ty. You comfortable?” You asked.

“You could loosen these ties,” he said. 

“Nice try,” you said. You stood up and put more lotion into your palms. You worked your way over his chest, rubbing his solid stomach and studying his dips and grooves. You’d been together long enough that you knew every inch of him.

But it was rare when you got to explore his body. Take your time and see what you could do to him. Your hands crept up his sides and when you wiggled your fingers, he twisted away from you. 

“Aye, aye! Don’t start that shit!” He yelled. 

“Excuse me?” You asked. 

“Don’t start that shit!” He said. 

You slid your fingers upwards anyway and tickled him in earnest. He twisted and writhed beneath you, his legs flopping on the bed.

“Because I seem to remember begging for mercy and someone said no,” you said. You giggled as you watched his face in a mix of pain and happiness. He threw his head back trying to get away from you but he was powerless. 

“You’re lucky I’m nicer,” you said. You stopped tickling him and moved your attention to his arms. You licked your lips as you ran your hands over his muscles. Back and forth, back and forth. His muscles contracted and you traced one long vein down his forearm.

His tattoos were an aphrodisiac all on its own. The lion was your favorite. He said it represented his dueling spirits, both lover and fighter. You worked the lotion into his wrists around the restraints. Too bad you couldn’t rub his hands. He had such big hands, big enough to grab your ass whenever he felt like. Which was all the time. 

Tyrone loved you out loud and that was your favorite part about him. There wasn’t an inch of your soul that didn’t love and cherish this man. You didn’t have the words or the comprehension to let him see how much you loved him. How much you woke up everyday and had to wrap your fingers around your arms and squeeze them tight. To make sure that it was real and you had a man who adored you. 

You just wanted to make him feel good. To make him feel a fraction of what he did for you on a regular basis. You cleaned your hands on a towel on the nightstand. “Feel good, baby?” You asked.

Tyrone groaned, his eyes drooping further as if he could go to sleep. He smiled, wide once more. Fuck, you would never get sick of seeing that look on his face. You would take a mental snapshot and lock it in your heart. You would pull it out a thousand times a day just to remember this over and over again. 

“Yes, ma’am. I see why you always askin’ for one now,” he said with a chuckle. Hell yeah. When Tyrone rubbed your calves after a stressful day on your feet, you were jelly in his hands and would agree to absolutely everything he wanted. If he wanted to pour ice cream on your pussy and lick it off, you would not object. 

But tonight was about making him feel good. You smiled as you went to the foot of the bed. You turned your palm until you were cupping his balls. 

“Now, what do we have here,” you said. You increased the pressure a bit, squeezing his balls until he groaned a little louder. 

You turned your fingers, massaging his balls in the way you knew made him glitch. He jerked and twisted beneath you, his breaths coming in choppy and weak. Your pussy throbbed, watching the mix of emotions play out over his face. 

Oh, you could get used to this. Used to driving him wild first. “Okay, okay, okay,” he huffed. He drew his legs up to try and dislodge you. His arms wrestled with the ties as he tried to get free. When it felt too good, when his voice was low in the back of his throat, he would make you stop. 

He assured you that he couldn’t cum this way, but you wanted to know what would happen if you kept going. If he didn’t stop you by pushing your hands away. You continued fondling him and he squirmed beneath you. His arms shook more violently as he tried in vain to stop you.

“You know what to say to get me to stop, baby. You gon’ say it?” You asked. 

His eyes were closed tightly, head thrown back. You relished the look of strain on him. How he looked so…pretty. 

He sounded so pretty too. His little staccato whimpers were turning you on in the worst way. You were dripping wet already and you hadn’t really done anything yet. You were going to burn up before you had a chance to let the night play out.

You were too excited, too turned on. Electricity danced in your veins. Your fingers tingled. Everything seemed amplified. His hair is just a touch more coarse. His voice throaty and guttural. The honeysuckle scent invaded your nostrils and now you would forever associate him with the scent. 

“Hol’ on, hol’ on, damn,” he groaned. 

“Ah, ah. You’re a big boy, use your words,” you cooed to him. You leaned forward, getting closer to him so that you didn’t miss a single thing.

The way sweat gathered on his brow and slid down his neck. The way his wide nose flared. The way his pink tongue darted out to lick his parched lips. Those sharp intakes of air. It was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.

Your heart cracked in two as you finally got a sense of what he had been talking about. How him hovering over you, looking down at your face, made his entire world light up. You understood now. You felt that same light burst out of you. You were breathless with it. 

“Babe, babe,” he said. His voice was so strained. You were so wet. An empty ache pulsed at the core of you. You needed this man inside of you. But you wanted to savor each moment too. 

“Words, Tyrone, or I stop,” you said.

“No, no!” He shouted. 

“Oh, so you can use your words,” you mocked. 

“Yes,” he hissed. 

“Well then, show me. Show me you can use your words like a good boy,” you said. 

“Don’t stop,” he said. 

“Do better. Beg me, Tyrone,” you commanded. 

It was a desperate need to hear the words on his lips that crawled over your skin. 

“Fuck,” Tyrone said. He licked his lips a few times. His breathing was choppy. The rapid rise and fall of his chest had you clenching and unclenching around anothing. 

He was trying to hold onto that bit of control. That stubborn fight in him was costing him unnecessary torment. You moved closer so that you could peck him with kisses on his temple and cheek.

“Shh, shh. It’s okay. You can let go, baby,” you whispered in his ear. 

You huffed and jerked as if he would cum but it didn’t seem like he was going to bust. You knew his face and that wasn’t it. 

You moved your hands to the band of the briefs. He took in deep breaths as your fingers slipped below the band. 

“You gotta tell me the magic words,” you said. 

“Come on,” he groaned. 

His hips moved side to side so subtly you almost missed it. Your fingers slid across his skin and you smiled. He was enjoying this. He really was lucky that you were so nice. You weren’t going to lord it over his head. 

“You come on. You want that nut, don’t you, baby?” You asked. You lowered your voice so that it was a little softer. He loved the sound of your voice and when you talked like this, like an innocent little doll, he said it made him brick up instantly. 

“Fuck,” he huffed out. “Please, babe. Touch me,” he said.

“Hm, that sounds like a command. Are you ordering me to do something, Ty?” You asked.

“No, ma’am,” he said. He shook his head back and forth. 

“Come on, be good for me,” you said.

“Please, please, please touch me.” he said. 

You kissed his cheek. “Thank you, pretty boy,” you said.

You began to stroke his long, thick dick. Your hands barely wrapped around him. You used both hands to stroke him slow and hard. 

The song switched to Sevyn Streeter and you shivered. Her songs always made you feel so sexy and in your feminine power. Impatient, you moved his briefs down so that you could look at your handiwork.

You looked at your hands with your nails painted in your favorite color. Your hands sliding over his dick, getting all kinds of delicious sounds from him. How it seemed you were pumping the cum out of him. 

He was still so pretty. Dicks were not supposed to be pretty. They were wrinkly and hairy. You’d seen one, you’d seen them all. Perhaps that was only for men you didn’t like. Because Tyrone’s was like no other. He wielded that thing like a deadly weapon.

It had been inside of you, handing out orgasms like it was sustenance. He kept himself well trimmed and groomed. Telling you that he needed to keep your plate clean. You watched your hands and suddenly grew jealous that they were having all the fun.

You got onto the bed and straddled him in a reverse cowgirl stance. You leaned across his thighs and stomach, scooting your ass back until it was tucked high in the air. Your face was level with his dick so you sucked him down. 

“Oh, fuck,” he jerked off of the bed. You rode him, wiggling your ass for him. His breath fanned across your ass as he tried to lean forward. There wasn’t much slack on the ties so he only got so far. 

“Umf, lemme taste you, please?” He asked.

He was a quick learner. You suckled the tip of his dick and the roar in his chest almost made you cum on the spot. You let him go with a wet pop, licking your lips to collect wayward precum. 

“You know my pussy wet, Tyrone,” you sung. You wiggled your ass. You looked back at him. His eyes were transfixed to your jiggly ass, the globes shaking with its own gravity. He groaned. His hands flexed. Like if he could just grab hold all would be right in the world. 

“You got me so fuckin’ horny, baby,” you moaned. 

“Oh, I need to taste it, babe,” he said. 

“You wanna taste me?” You asked.

Tyrone nodded, tearing his eyes away from your ass just long enough to give you a quick glance. 

“You gotta earn that. Be a good boy for me and cum in my mouth,” you said.

You put your lips back on him and sucked on him just the way you wanted. You went at your own pace, bobbing your head up and down and trying to fit as much of him as you can. His hips bucked on the bed. The heels of his feet dug into the sheets as you gagged on him. 

He lifted his hips and came with an aggressive growl. You sucked and moaned as his cum filled your mouth. You swallowed all of it. Usually you stopped and went to wipe your mouth of any more. But this time, you kept going.

These sounds were different. These were raw and primal. He muttered and sputtered through all kinds of excited sounds as you sucked the fucking soul out of him. 

“Uh, u-” he moaned.

You gyrated on his chest. You felt that moan deep down inside. All the way down to your womb. 

“Shit, I-!” He bucked his hips again and came one more time. His cum splashed the back of your throat and once more, you drank him down. You slowed your strokes, running your tongue lightly down his shaft. He made tortured moaning noises that had you seeing double. 

You stopped with your lips around his tip and then finally let go. You moaned and looked back at him. He was definitely in pain now. That shouldn’t quite turn you on this much. But who were you trying to fool?

You loved this look of pain on his face. Where he gave way to his base instincts. To fuck and be fucked. 

“You earned an award, baby, for being so good,” you said.

Your left hand descended down to your pussy where your fingers instantly slipped through your wet folds. You collected your essence and brought it to his lips. He panted before smelling your scent on your fingers.

His eyes were closed so he moved by the tilt of his wide nose towards your fingers. He opened his mouth and suckled them into his mouth. His tongue ran over your fingers, collecting every last drop.

“You so pretty, Ty,” you breathed. 

“Timeout,” he panted. 

You nodded and got up off of him. The song switched once more to Victoria Monet. It was a good song to relax to. You laid down next to him, wrapping your arm around his middle and staying there. 

He groaned and shook beneath you. His eyes were so tightly closed you wondered if he was intentionally getting himself hurt. 

“Are you okay, Tyrone?” You asked.

“Too much,” he whispered. 

You nodded and focused on not setting his skin on fire. You gave him small, tolerable kisses while he calmed down. You checked on him periodically, making him talk it out like he did for you. 

“Baby, please, I need to be inside you,” Tyrone finally whispered. You looked down the length of him. He was growing by the second. He swelled against your thigh, filling up just for you. 

“You sure you want to keep going? We don’t have to. You’ve already given me so much,” you said. 

“Please,” he said, his voice breaking on the word. “I’m going to die if I don’t get to feel you. I’ll get on my knees and beg right now, untie me,” he said.

You looked up and brought your hand up to cup his face. Stroke his beard. Your hands slid down to his arms, past the tattoos all over his arms. There were some on his chest as well. You wanted to lick every single one. 

You straddled his hips and leaned up so you could look at his face. His eyes immediately went to your breast, concealed by your peek-a-boo bra. The sheer lace let him see your nipples. You played with your breasts as you began to tease him.

You slid your wet pussy across his chest and he licked his lips. His eyes dipped down to where you gyrated on him. His eyes. There was so much you could glean from his eyes alone. He wanted to devour you whole. 

You didn’t give him what he wanted. This was still your fantasy. You turned around on him, getting into a sitting position. You moved your panties to the side and grabbed his dick. You guided him inside you. He was as hard as a brick and nearly as thick as one. 

You groaned, sitting yourself down on that beefy dick. His head thumped on the headboard a few times as you seemed to continue sliding. Only Tyrone could get so deep that you felt him kissing your cervix. You clenched around him thinking of how he could fill you up directly. Shooting his load to the heart of you.

You weren’t sure when or how you became obsessed with being filled up by him but the image was provocative. Everytime he went inside you, your mind instantly flashed to how passionately he would grab your hips and slam you down on his dick.

You groaned and began to bounce, the bed creaking loudly over the music playing. It spurned you on more to hear it. You bounced faster, chasing your pleasure with reckless abandon. 

“Fuck, use me,” Tyrone moaned. “Use me, baby.” 

Your hands gripped his thighs and held on. You steadied yourself and bounced to your heart’s content. He moved seamlessly inside you, pulsing every now and then with his desire. 

“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” you moaned. Your screeches were getting louder and louder. 

“Let me feel it, baby, please,” he said, tacking on the please at the last second. Old habits die hard. 

All the teasing you did to him only served to tease yourself. You were already close. Especially with how deep in your guts he was. At this rate, he could definitely rearrange some things in there. You bounced faster. You were so close. So close. So close.

You screamed as you came, howling into the night that you were in heaven. Soaring through the clouds with wind in your air and space beneath your feet. You paused, clutching his thighs as you shook on top of him. 

You cried, your voice too warbly to be coherent. No help from him and you were still a mess on top of him. Flooding him with your arousal. You clenched and unclenched his dick, squeezing him tight enough to make him moan. 

“Can I cum in that pussy?” Tyrone asked. He moved his hips, wiggling you on top of him. You moaned as he pulsed inside of you. You were still so sensitive from your powerful orgasm. A shiver worked its way down your spine and you arched into it. 

“Since you asked so nicely, you can,” you said. 

Tyrone moved his hips. He managed a few inches and your eyes crossed feeling him deep inside. You wanted him to stay there. You wanted to stay connected. If he wanted you to cockwarm him, you would. Just sit there with him lodged inside of you busting load after load into you. 

“Ouue,” you moaned. 

You helped bounce on him while he moved his hips up, bucking and fucking you. You tugged on your nipples, needing a little bite of pain to really drive your pleasure higher. You moved one hand down south, reaching under your panties and circling your clit. 

“Sheeit,” you moaned and came. At the same time, Tyrone moaned loud and proud as he came, flooding your insides. You felt it fill you up to the fucking brim. 

When you finished, Tyrone fell back to the bed, completely spent. Your legs were wobbly noodles. You didn’t think you could move. You took deep breaths, waiting for the ecstasy to dissipate. 

But he always had the strength to make sure you were okay. You were going to do the same, because you loved him and wanted to make him comfortable. You got off of him slowly. He groaned as he slipped out. You got to your feet on the carpet.

You rubbed the sweat from his brow. “Talk to me, baby, are you okay?” You asked. You untied him and rubbed his wrists, rubbing the circulation back into it. You went around the bed and did the same thing to his other wrist.

“Hm, sleepy,” he said. He yawned to prove his point. You smiled at him. 

“Not without me.”

You went to the bathroom and warmed up a washcloth. You cleaned him off, wiping your combined juices. He hissed a little as the cloth touched his dick, but he quickly settled into the bed.

You went to the bathroom and cleaned yourself up with a different cloth. You went back to the room to find Tyrone had slid down into the bed, resting his head against the pillow. Now the mu’fucka knew how you felt when you were overstimulated and speaking in tongues just to make the pleasure stop. It was almost like it was too much. But you couldn’t help but keep going, wanting more.

You blew out the candles and turned off the music. You turned off the overhead light and climbed into bed with Tyrone, pulling the covers up over your lower half. Your top half was too sensitive and overheated for anything more. 

You kissed his arms and chest once you settled into his arms. He flipped over unconsciously, pulling your back into his chest. You snuggled down into his hot body. Your back turned feverish just from his body heat. 

“Wait ‘till I recover,” he murmured into your ear. “I’ma get my payback.”

“See, that was all love. Why it gotta be payback?” You asked.

His hand flexed against your belly. He squeezed your flesh in his big hands and your pussy throbbed. You were already sore from earlier, you did not need another round. 

“Just gotta,” he said.

“But why?”

“Thems the rules,” he said. His voice was hoarse and seemed louder in the quiet, dark room. 

He fell silent and you thought he had drifted off to sleep. You were about to fall yourself when he hummed. 

“Baby?” He asked.

“Yes?” You asked.

“Can you call me ‘pretty boy’ more often?” He whispered into the air. 

“Of course. Anything for my pretty, pretty boy.”

Whew! If you need a cool down with another one, there's so much more! The Secret Tyrone Files

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[footballffbarbiex]

Player: Tyrone Mings Words: 1456 (whoops. but I did try to set the scene) Request: Tyrone Mings | no pref | 500 - 900 | She makes his wish come true by saying yes to his unexpected proposal.

Tyrone has gone over his plan to the point where it’s ingrained in his mind so much that it’s as natural to him now as reciting his name. And yet, he feels unnaturally nervous about actually going through with it. Not because he doesn’t want to, because this is the one thing that he’s been more sure of than anything else in his life, but because he’s terrified that she might not feel the same way. 

He’s had the ring picked out and purchased now for months. He’d considered all locations before deciding that she would hate a public proposal so that ruled out restaurants and the like. He’d considered proposing on the beach to her, something small with candles and just the two of them - they didn’t need someone else there to take pictures of the moment, they’d share their own. Besides, suddenly taking someone else along for this would seem a little odd unless they all went as a group but even so, Tyrone believed that it should be a private, intimate moment where the only people who needed to be there were those in the relationship.

She’d sent off for pictures of them to be enlarged and printed, pictures ranging throughout their relationship, and they’d arrived today fully framed. They looked good he had to admit and as he’d hung them where she’d marked out, he knew she’d love them. Some were in colour, others in black and white. The contrast between the two sets as they hung on the wall was perfect. Not only would she now walk into the home and feel good about her choices and how they looked, her first real stamp on their house since she moved in with him, but this should hopefully be the start of a lot of happiness for the evening. 

He had purchased some tall candle lanterns and dotted them throughout the hallway, leading to the large living area where he intended to be waiting for her. She always sent him her live location when leaving work, just in case he needed anything from the store and he could see where she was before calling and finding out she’d already passed it and wasn’t going to go back. This gave him time to light the scentless candles to set the scene. Her favourite scented candles were already lit, burning sporadically throughout the home to ensure that each area smelt beautiful. 

He’s dressed smart casual. Too casual didn’t feel right and he didn’t want to be kneeling in a tuxedo because he thought that would be too cheesy; even if it would earn him a giggle or two. 

He’s in the middle of adjusting some of the tableware, truly wanting everything to be perfect, when his phone chimes with a text alerting him that her live location was now sent and she was on her way. With dinner cooking and almost ready, there wasn’t much else to do but to wait now on nervous hands. 

Tyrone ensures that the lights are low and that the Christmas lights are on - including the bannister garlands - to create a beautiful atmosphere. Now that she’s on her way, he decides now is the right time to also light the remaining candles and also take his position where he hopes that she’ll find him. he’d debated setting up a playlist though that also hadn’t felt right but now he waits in the room in silence with nothing but his thoughts and nerves, it all feels a little overwhelming.

He flits between feeling excited to feeling nauseous. his stomach will not settle and every so often, it will switch between fluttering with nerves and threatening to empty its contents. He’s hoping the latter doesn’t happen during a crucial moment tonight. 

Tyrone is about to start adjusting something else in the room when the sound of a car pulling up distracts him from trying to distract himself. He’s surprised he can hear the key hitting the lock and the sound of the handle being worked over the sound of the pounding in his ears from his heart. He pictures her standing in the doorway taking in the sight and wondering what has changed since she left this morning besides the blatantly obvious. She’d left a home looking Christmassy and walked into something that resembled if Christmas and Valentines had a baby together. There's the sound of fabrics being unzipped, moved around and ultimately being hung up. 

There’s footsteps in the hallway now, footsteps can be heard moving down towards him which then pause, presumably, where Tyrone has put the photos up. 

He hears her soft, “oh,” as she takes it all in and pictures the way she’d step forward to look at it a little better. He pictures the way she’d almost touch the glass, her fingers desperately to trace over the details. He wishes desperately that he could see her face, wishes that he could see if she’d made the right call or not. In his opinion, she absolutely did but that initial reaction would be everything. 

“These look amazing, baby.” She calls out, her voice carrying throughout the home. “Thank you for putting them up.” He loved that she always addressed the things that he did in the house. Not that she should have to or spoon feed him compliments for the most basic of things but she never failed to notice that he had taken some of the work weight from her shoulders and pulled his own. With a final tap to his pocket to ensure the small box was still there, Tyrone - shakily - gets down on one knee and waits. 

“And those candles are a beautiful touch. We’d have to move them when we have the…” he’d heard her voice progressing closer to him as she headed his way but passing the doorway and backtracking to make sure that she was seeing what she thought she’d seen had caused her to trail off. “If this is a joke, it’s a cruel one.” She says, words sounding too heavy to really be spoken. 

“It’s not.” He tries to laugh it off but it sounds false. It sounds strained. He could curse his voice for betraying him like this. “I’ve thought of all the ways to do this and all the places to get down on one knee. But if I know you like I think I do, then this is the most perfect spot. That’s not to say that you don’t deserve somewhere fancy, because you do, but I didn’t think you’d want this to be a public spectacle. I’m getting distracted.” He takes a deep breath and wipes the palms of his hands on his trousers before pushing his hand into his pocket. 

She watches with an expression that Tyrone has never seen before on her face and he can’t work out if she’s as nervous as he is or if he’s mortified that he’s even asking. Neither thoughts are calming his nerves. 

“If it’s a no, just stop me right now before I make an absolute fool out of myself please.”

“Keep going,” she chokes out, hoping that he doesn’t see the way her hands are shaking at the realisation that this is really happening. 

His fingers close around the box and with a trembling hand, he brings it back out of his pocket. He hopes she doesn’t notice the small tremors as he holds it out, fingers poised perfectly to try and flip the lid to reveal it as he asks the question. 

“I love you. I don’t always say or do the right things, and I’m probably not going to have the right words to say right now which are romantic enough or really tell you how much I love you or how much I’ve thought about how we’d spend the rest of our lives together. The scenarios in my head that have formed pushed me to buy this ring. Pushed me to agonise over how to do this and how to say a sentence that’s very simple but nerve wracking to say. But I love you enough to say it. So. Will you marry me?” 

She tries to open her mouth to speak but no words are ready to come out. They remain lodged in her throat behind the lump that’s forming and until she can finally say the “yes” that Tyrone is dying to hear, she nods continuously. 

“Are you sure because you can say no if you wa-” he’s cut off as she closes the gap and flings herself onto him, knocking the two of them to the floor as she straddles his waist and covers his face with kisses before she settles for his lips. 

“It’s a yes Tryone. Yes.”

#Tyrone Mings one shot #Tyrone Mings imagine #Tyrone Mings blurb #Tyrone Mings drabble #Tyrone Mings fanfic #Tyrone Mings fanfiction

[henneseyhoe]

Freaky Girl

Tyrone x BLACK!FEM!reader

WARNINGS:real ghetto. Y’all know Tyrone a hood nigga anyway. Spit(obvi), Short, not a complete smut buttt it’s still nasty.

SUMMARY: Tyrone gets the rest of his soul taken(if the government didn’t already do that for him)

Ps.I lowkey wanna make this longer into a full smut but idk lmfao

(Gif cr: @tishrivers <3 )

✮✮✮✮

Music with bass boomed through the car crowed street, the neighborhood cul-de-sac he pulled up in being as active as the hood usually is. The place wasn’t run down, but you could tell a couple illegal activities took place here more than often. He was no stranger to environments like this at all though. He grew up around it. Only problem was, this wasn’t his hood, so he was careful.

He made sure not to wear any alarming colors, even leaving behind the blue flag he’d usually wear in the back of his pocket, hanging out for any nigga to see. Not tonight though, he wasn’t even trynna be on that. A nigga couldn’t imagine getting clapped in somebody else hood just for wanting to get some pussy from this fye bitch a few blocks down. He honestly could have just walked, but he wasn’t feeling the idea of freely walking somewhere without his ‘heat’. Especially not around no damn crackheads.

Speaking of said ‘fye bitch’, she was in all honesty more than that, but he knew nothing apart from how some cornbread fed ass shordy he met at a party a month ago wanted what he had in them dickies cargo pants. She was pretty, both street and book smart, but the important part was that she was down for whatever a nigga offered.

He had heard about her around before, but he never really looked into why she was talked about other than the fact that she, again, had a fat ass and use to deal with some known nigga from across the states. Last reason he didn’t give a fuck about actually. All he thought about was if she knew how to take dick or not.

He exits his car and locks it, making his way into the neighborhood fully with a gangster lean in his walk. Like he had something in them pants that could cripple a bitch. All he could smell was weed smoke and burning wood. passing by residents and other guests who had came there for completely different reasons. Feeling cautious, he clutched his belt anytime he felt eyes on him. You could never be too careful.

Finding the girls house, he shakes his head at the hot pink painted front door, making it the only one to stand out apart from all of the other duplexes.

Laying a knock on the door, he leans against the porches iron railings and waits, which felt like forever in his case, though it was only a minute that passed. The door swings open, revealing the thick girl in boy shorts and a cropped tee that was fitted against her breasts, the deep split in the middle already giving him a show. It was obviously cut after being bought, the bottom of the shirt being tacky with loose threading that reveled a bit of her under boob.

“Bout time, nigga. Thought they got yo ass or sum” she moves from the door to let him in, walking back to wherever she came from. He walks in, his eyes fixated on the movement of her ass in those shorts. He couldn’t wait to see how it moved without the shorts restricting her.

He blew off at her comment. “Got? Never that, that ain’t me. A nigga had other things to do, shordy”

She turned to him, her eyebrows cockily raising. “Better than me?”

Silence was passed around with that question lingering around his head, a smirk tugging at the side of his lips as he thought, kicking the door shut with his foot then reaching for his belt.

“Hell nah”

✮✮✮✮

“Fuck—suck that shit” he exhaled, milky white smoke floating from his lips as he slowly leans his head back and entangles his hands in the girls Fulani braids. He was deep down her throat as if there was nothing blocking him from going further, and she was taking it. Imagine throwing a sausage down a hallway.

She licked and sucked along the shaft of his dick like it was hydrating her, her only goal being to get him off at the moment. Pulling him out of her throat, her hands wrap around his thick, long pipe, stroking him while her tongue worked on his balls, using her spit to get it sloppy, how he liked it. She used so much spit that the waist band of the front of his pants was wet down to the zipper.

He could still hear the loud trap music from outside and his high was hitting just right, making the music seem like it was put into some kind of filter. Like his brain chopped and skrewed it for him, his own remix featuring the wet sounds of the girls throat swallowing him whole.

She continued to slurp him up, shamelessly looking up at him with her beautiful slanted eyes, her wispy, recently done eyelashes complementing the shape. Usually girls teared up when giving head because of the pressure, but Y/N? Not one tear could fall from her eyes while doing one of her favorite things; getting some cut.

Feeling him pulse in her throat, she smiled with him still there. He could only look down at her in awe, taking another hit of his blunt to refill his lungs , but to also distract him from busting already, though that was the inevitable once she hallowed her cheeks and tightened her lips around the base of his dick, sucking like she was attempting to pull the nut out of him, which didn’t need much of an attempt since he was already ready to bust back to back in any hole she offered tonight.

He gripped the couch cushion underneath him with his hand, almost dropping his blunt as she sucked up and swallowed every bit of the sweetness he gave her. Not being able to take anymore of the suction, he pulls out of her mouth with a grunt, his hand moving down to grip the base of his dick as more of his essence spurted out onto her plump lips till that was all he could give from that one session.

“Gahdamn” he sighed, still holding himself until the sensation of her mouth went away, leaving his dick continuously bobbing up and down in jerks just from the sight of her. She only hummed out a soft ‘Mmmm’ as she rubbed the rest of his nut along her lips, giving it a gloss like sheen. That made him go crazy, starting to get him hard all over again. Her tongue danced on her fingers, moving the muscle up and down her middle finger and swirling around the tip of her long and exaggerated acrylics.

They were red and curved, decorated with white painted on flowers. It reminded him of the designs back into the 90s.

Standing to her feet, she removed the crop top she wore, releasing the gift given to her by whatever woman who birthed the freak. He would have thanked her momma if he knew her.

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Me cause I had that damn song on repeat while writing this 🤭

#black fanfic writer #black fanfiction #black!reader #masterlist #black actors #black reader #black!fem!reader #black!oc #smut masterlist #henneseyhoe #john boyega #John boyega smut #they cloned tyrone #they cloned tyrone spoilers #they cloned Tyrone smut

[wakandas-vibranium]

Double ‘Taine || Part One

Pairing: Fontaine x Black Fem!Reader

Warnings: canon typical violence, use of the n word, aave use etc.

Word count: 4.4k

A/N: This is going to be a fun lil series! Not sure how many chapters just yet, but I hope y’all enjoy the story. Please comment, like, and reblog! :)

It was a gorgeous Memphis night. The weather was perfect and your life was going pretty well. You didn't have too many complaints. The aroma of apples and pumpkin always wafted through the air of your apartment around this time of year. Mrs. Towner, who lives two units down the hall from you, was always the culprit. Her grandson lived with her and loved baked goods and Halloween. You couldn't blame him; Halloween was one of your favorite holidays too, and it was only four weeks away. It was simply something about the smell of pumpkin and the crunch of fallen leaves under your boots that made your heart warm and made you feel like everything was going to be okay.

You were currently in your luxury apartment, venturing back and forth between the kitchen and the dining room, setting the table for four. While you were busy setting up the apartment for your guests, your boyfriend, Fontaine, was out picking up dinner. You usually cooked, but Slick suggested earlier this week that he was craving Indian food, and you hadn't had it in a long time, so you ordered it and sent Fontaine to pick it up from the best spot downtown. Thursdays turned into dinner dates with Yo-Yo and Slick Charles. 

You met Yo-Yo about four years ago. She strutted straight into your law firm, carrying the brightest smile and one of the sharpest minds you'd ever seen. You two hit it off right away. You supported her with everything she needed, and she is now a paralegal with your firm.

About six months in, she finally introduced you to her eccentric boyfriend, Slick Charles, who never failed to make you bust out laughing, and her other roommate, Fontaine, who you instantly took a fancy to. Your firm had become quite busy, and Yo-Yo stressed to you that Fontaine was going through a difficult time, so it took another half a year before the two of you started dating. Now you were in the best relationship you'd ever been in, and you couldn't be happier. 

Sure, Fontaine kept a lot of things bottled up, and it was like pulling teeth to get him to talk about them, but you wouldn't trade him for anything. You loved that man. 

Actually, you had the impression that all three of them were hiding some information from you. You didn't know much about their past because they didn't tell you much. They told you that they had moved to Memphis from the Glen and that they had no plans of returning home. That was pretty much it. 

You had an inkling there was a lot more to the story, but you never pushed that button.  If they wanted you to know, you would know. 

As soon as you had the apartment set up to your liking, you poured yourself a glass of Stella Rosa's Moscato D’Asti and relaxed on the couch, waiting for your beloved to return. 

The door knob was twisted twice before there was a heavy knock on the door. You hurriedly downed the rest of your wine and dashed over to the entrance, figuring Fontaine could use help opening the door since he had the food in his hands. 

“Hey baby,” you greeted as you opened the door and saw that he didn’t have the food, but instead two large bags and a backpack. “Did you forget your keys?”

He didn't answer you; instead, he gave you a pointed look and strolled into the apartment. You scratched your forehead because you didn't know what the fuck was going on. You could've sworn he left 20 minutes ago with different clothes on….and why didn't he have the food?

He lingered in the living room, glancing around the apartment as if it were his first time seeing it. You shut the door and took timid steps toward him. Your eyes widened as you tried, but failed, not to gawk at him. When did he have time to change? 

After what appeared to be him assessing the room, his gaze finally settled on you, and he looked you up and down.

“Why you lookin’ at me like that?”

You scoffed as you threw up your hands,“You were supposed to go get the food…”

“…Oh…” he said, tone revealing that he didn’t give a single fuck about dinner. 

“Yeah, oh,” you rolled your eyes at him and he just shrugged his shoulders at you.

What the fuck was his problem?

He stood there with his back against the wall. In a defensive position. As if he knew shit was about to hit the fan. Bags still in his hands, and an orange backpack still on his back.

“Fontaine, is everything alright?” you asked, taking a cautious step towards him. 

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure?”

He gave you another pointed look and you raised your hands. 

“It’s just…you’re acting weird and you look pissed the fuck off right now, babe. Please tell me what’s going on?”

He uncrossed his arms and started to speak, but the jingle of keys and the opening of the front door stopped you both in your tracks.

In walked Fontaine with dinner in his hands.

WHAT IN THE ENTIRE FUCK?

Fontaine took one look at the both of you before slamming the door shut and fixing you with a chilling look.

“Baby, back away from him.”

“Man, I ain’t gon’ hurt her.” Fontaine number two huffed, rolling his eyes at Fontaine number one. 

You took a cautious step back anyway. The tone of your boyfriend’s voice was more than enough to have you on edge.

Your boyfriend placed the food on the dining room table and shoved you behind him as he faced the other Fontaine.

Or at least that’s who he looked like…

Who was this guy? And why did he look just like your man? You thought you were seeing double. 

The apartment was deafeningly silent. Those two didn't utter a single word as they sized each other up.

Those two may have been comfortable standing there in silence, but you weren't. You wanted to know just what in the fuck was going on.

“Umm,” you blurted, breaking the silence, “I thought you said your brother was dead? And that he was younger than you?” 

You thought that maybe the other man was his twin or something. Obviously they had to be related. 

“He is,” your boyfriend replied, taking his eyes off of the other man for a brief moment to glance back at you. 

“Then who the fuck is this?” you pressed, gesturing wildly at the Fontaine lookalike. 

“Nobody.”

“Nigga, I’m you,” Fontaine number two said. 

“I ain’t tryna hear that.”

“Well, you gon’ hear it tonight, nigga.”

They went back and forth with each other, bickering for what felt like an eternity until you couldn't take it anymore.

“Fontaine!” 

They both turned to look at you.

“Somebody better open they fuckin’ mouth right now and start explainin’ before I start swingin!!” you threatened. 

While your boyfriend heaved a sigh of aggravation, the Fontaine lookalike smirked at you with a mischievous gleam in his eye.

“Where that nigga Slick at?” The lookalike asked, ignoring you. 

“You came all the way to Memphis for Slick?” Fontaine questioned, tone heavy with irritation. 

“That nigga knocked me out and duck taped me to a fuckin’ chair!”

What the fuck? Why would Slick do something like that? 

“Yeah, for a reason.”

And your boyfriend knew about this shit all along? What else was he keeping from you? 

“I got somethin’ for his ass!”

“Wait a minute—why would Slick tape you to a chair?” you asked the lookalike, taking a step closer to him. 

“Ask yo boyfriend,” he quipped. 

“I will, but first tell me who you are,” you demanded, staring him right in his face. His hair, his deep brown eyes, the golds in his mouth was all too familiar. This man was the spitting image of your boyfriend.  

But how? 

“I’m Fontaine,” he finally said, looking you in the eyes, silently daring you to disagree with him.

“That’s impossible,” you chuckled nervously as you backed away from him because clearly he was out of his mind, “There can’t be two Fontaines.” 

“Baby,” your boyfriend sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose, “He’s tellin’ the truth.” 

“We’re both clones,” the lookalike admitted. 

Your boyfriend's shoulders stiffened so much that you worried they'd become stuck.

You were about to accuse them both of fucking with you, but the pained look on their faces was enough to convince you that they were being serious.

You plopped down on the couch, head in your hands, trying to make sense of what was being said, but your chest felt tight and you couldn't quite catch your breath.

So…clones were real. 

Your boyfriend was a clone and your boyfriend also had a clone. 

So there were two Fontaines. 

Were there more than two Fontaines?

Who did this to them?

With each passing second, a new question flooded your thoughts.

What happened to the original Fontaine?

Who else was the government cloning?

What other states and cities were they operating from?

Was Fontaine safe?

Were you safe?

Shit really hit the fan once Yo-Yo and Slick arrived. 

You had to confiscate Fontaine number two's gun after he pulled it out on Slick twice. Then you had to hold him back because he charged the retired pimp with such ferocity. Your boyfriend definitely had his temperamental ways, but this Fontaine was a bit more volatile.

Thankfully, Yo-Yo was there because Fontaine number one and Slick Charles were useless. They didn’t even try to help diffuse the situation. 

After a half-hour of squabbling, everyone calmed down and sat down to eat dinner.

“So, y’all niggas couldn’t have included me on the plan?” Fontaine number two asked the others at the table. 

You sat between both Fontaines, gulping your wine as you willed yourself not to freak out anymore than necessary. Yo-Yo and Slick Charles sat across from you.

“Hell no! We ain’t have time to break it down for your hotheaded ass,” Slick Charles said. 

Fontaine number two shot Slick Charles with such a hard glare that you worried you'd have to hold him back again.

“Uh, I’mma just eat my samosa before Fontaine number two beats my mothafuckin’ ass,” Slick Charles grumbled before shoving his mouth with more food.

You nodded, “I think that’s a good idea, Slick.” 

“How’d you find us anyway?” Yo-Yo asked.

“Biddy.”

“Biddy?!” The three of them murmured. 

You couldn’t do anything but eat your food and drink your wine as you watched the four of them converse. You felt like a stranger in your own fucking home.

“I gave that pink bitch a hundred bucks and she told me y’all moved to Memphis.” 

You didn’t even bother to ask who Biddy was because you knew you wouldn’t get a straight answer. The rest of the evening went pretty much like that. As the four of them caught up, you tried to make sense of the information at your disposal. You eventually tuned them out because you were becoming irritated.

After a while, Fontaine number two asked where the bathroom was, and you got up to show him the way.

Surprisingly, he thanked you before closing the bathroom door, and you retreated to the kitchen, searching for more wine. You needed more booze to deal with this fucked-up situation, and unfortunately, the wine you already had just wasn't cutting it. You scoured the refrigerator and cabinets but came up empty. 

With a heavy sigh, you leaned against the kitchen island and went over the events of the last hour or so. You still found it difficult to comprehend the gobsmacking fact that the love of your life was a clone.

It all made sense now why your boyfriend was so guarded. Look at all the shit he’s been through. Still, you couldn't help but feel a heavy pang of hurt because the three of them kept this from you. They were the closest people to you. You've grown to love them so much, and they couldn't even bring you into the loop.

You strolled back into the dining room and observed the three of them crowded together, talking in hushed voices.

Slick Charles spotted you approaching and motioned for the other two to stop chatting.

“And just what are y’all over there whisperin’ about?” you asked, raising a curious eyebrow. 

“Nothing.”

“Nothing important, baby.” 

“Just discussin’ the weather.” 

The three of them lied through their teeth and went back to eating as if they just weren't having a private conversation. It took all your might not to lash out at them in frustration. At the very least, Yo-Yo looked guilty. You knew she wanted to tell you more, but her loyalty to Fontaine surpassed her loyalty to you.

“Right,” you scoffed at them as you grabbed your purse off the counter. “I’ll be back.” 

“Where you goin’, Y/N?” your boyfriend asked as he stood up. 

“To the liquor store,” you said through gritted teeth. 

“Mind if I slide with you?” Fontaine number two asked as he ambled down the hallway. 

“No, I don’t mind.”

“Nah,” Fontaine number one shook his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Well, I’m goin’ anyway, nigga.” Fontaine number two retorted as he stood next to you. 

You shot your partner a sidelong glance before turning around and heading outside. Fontaine number two was right behind you.

“Y/N,” Slick Charles called after you. “Bring me back some vodka and orange juice please!” 

Fontaine number two slammed the door shut before you had a chance to respond, and you fought back a chuckle. That dude was obsessed with orange juice.

Together with your boyfriend's carbon copy, you made your way silently to the parking garage.

“Oh shit,” he exclaimed as he watched you open the car door to your silver Genesis. “You drive a G90?!”

“Yes,” you chuckled as he gawked at your car, his brown eyes briefly flashing with childlike admiration. Just like your Fontaine when he first saw it. The man truly did love his cars. It only made sense that his doppelgänger would too. 

“This is a nice ass ride,” he complimented, caressing the car door with his fingers as he walked around the vehicle. 

“You wanna drive?”

“You for real?”

“Yeah, the other you drives it all the time.” 

You tossed him the keys before walking over to the passenger side and hopping in. 

He excitedly clambered into the car, gently closing the door, before cranking up and taking the opportunity to look around.

After marveling at and feeling the smooth cream interior for several seconds, his gaze ultimately settled on you.

You paid close attention to his features. He may have been a clone, but now that you were actually looking at him, you could tell he wasn't your boyfriend.

Your Fontaine always looked at you as if he knew you inside and out, which he did, but this Fontaine solely looked at you as if he wanted to have a chance to get to know you that well. Everything else about the two was remarkably identical. This was a peculiar yet intriguing situation.

You were going to ask him what he was staring at when he blurted, “Y’all fucked in here yet?” 

“Fontaine!” you gasped, whacking his arm in admonishment. 

You couldn't believe he would ask you something like that, but then again, your Fontaine wasn't one to shy away from asking questions. No matter how invasive they were.

“What? I know me, aight? Ain’t no way in hell I’d pass up fuckin’ my fine ass girlfriend in this sweet ass car.” 

The compliment was not lost on you, but you chose not to react to it.

You remained silent, blinking at him in disbelief, until he raised his eyebrows impatiently, still waiting for you to answer.

“Yes, nigga,” you muttered, “we’ve fucked in here before.” 

“How many times?”

“Why do you care?”

He said nothing, just stared at you with an amused expression.

“Four times, damn! Can we go now?”

For a split second, his eyes darkened with a burning desire. He didn't say anything, but it was clear he wanted to be the one to partake in a fifth time.

Under his piercing gaze, you squirmed in your seat. You knew that was a thought you wouldn’t be able to come back from, so you cleared your throat and turned to stare out the window.

You heard him let out a puff of amusement before he put the car in reverse and backed out of the parking spot.

“What type of shit you do for work?” he asked once y’all were out on the open road and out of the parking garage.

“I’m a lawyer,” you said proudly before pointing to the upcoming street. “Make a left at the next light.” 

“What kind of lawyer?” he questioned as he turned left. 

“Corporate.” 

“Mmm, smart and pretty.” 

And that's pretty much how the trip to and from the liquor store went. You two getting to know each other. Surprisingly, the lookalike was easy to talk to. He reminded you too much of your man. You were going to start getting whiplash. You didn't ask him about his life back in the Glen. You wanted your boyfriend to trust you with that information.

You both walked back into the apartment carrying bags of booze. Fontaine number one, Yo-Yo, and Slick Charles were still conversing at the dinner table.

As a peace offering, Fontaine number two handed Slick Charles his vodka and orange juice. At least he was trying, you thought. 

You five settled on the couch with your drinks and watched the first two Bad Boys flicks. Yo-Yo fell asleep against Slick Charles halfway through the second film.

You were once again seated between your boyfriend and his duplicate. Your feet eventually wound across your man's lap, and he rubbed soothing circles into your ankles.

After twenty minutes, Yo-Yo began to snore, so Slick decided to call it a night, waking her up and helping her to her feet. They were really sweet to each other when they wanted to be. 

"Baby, I'mma walk them out," your boyfriend stated as he pecked your lips before strolling to the front door. "I'll be right back," he called over his shoulder before shutting the door, leaving you alone with Fontaine number two. 

Your brow furrowed in confusion. He never walked them all the way out. Then it dawned on you that he wanted to have another private conversation with them when you were not around. 

You slumped on the couch, tucking your foot beneath you as you grumbled in frustration.

“Aye, you good?” Fontaine asked as he took his eyes off the tv screen to glance over at you. 

“I’m good,” you lied as you turned to look at him. “You ready for bed?”

“You gon’ let me sleep here?” he asked, surprise clear in his voice. 

“Well, duh Fontaine,” you huffed. “Unless you got some other friends in Memphis that I don’t know about?”

What did he think? That you were going to toss his ass out with nowhere to go?

“I don’t think yo boyfriend gon’ be cool with that.”

“I don’t give a fuck what the other you has to say at the moment,” you sneered, “do you want to stay here or not?” 

“Yeah, I do.”

“Then it’s settled,” you dismissed.. 

“Can we finish the movie first? This one is my favorite,” he nodded towards the tv.

“Sure.”

Fontaine wandered back into the apartment about fifteen minutes later, scoffing at the two of you laughing on the couch.

“And where is this nigga stayin’, Y/N?” he blurted, attitude rancid as fuck. 

“Here with us,” you said brightly, stating the obvious. The credits began to roll so you grabbed the remote to turn off the tv. 

“Oh, hell nah,” he complained as he rolled his eyes at the both of you. “Why he gotta stay here with us?” 

“Where else is he supposed to stay? With Slick and Yo-Yo?” You folded your arms against your chest, kissing your teeth in annoyance. Fontaine number one and Fontaine number two were going to have to get along sooner or later. This hostility shit between them wasn’t going to fly. 

“He can stay at—“

“—Just let him stay, baby,” you interrupted, throwing up your hands as you stood up from the couch. 

What was the goddamn problem? It made sense that everybody should stick together. Maybe only to you. 

“Aight, fine,” he grunted, stomping off into the kitchen. 

“Dramatic ass nigga,” Fontaine number two mumbled under his breath as he stood up too. 

You shook your head at him in amusement, fighting back a giggle. This situation was so bizarre that you had to take it lightly or else you'd lose your fucking mind. He shrugged at you and scooped up his bags. You motioned for him to follow you into the guest room down the hall.

You helped him with unpacking and began hanging his clothes in the closet. You chuckled to yourself since his wardrobe was identical to your Fontaine's. The two men were obviously quite the same, but there were one or two physical variances that you chose to keep to yourself. 

“Why you bein’ so nice to me?” he blurted, taking a small step towards you.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” you replied, eyes narrowing as you leaned back against one of the closet doors. 

He took another step towards you, pausing to look you up and down before fixing his gaze on your face.

“I ain’t him, you know?”

But you kind of are, you thought. 

“You think I’m only bein’ nice to you because you share the same face as my boyfriend?” 

“Yeah, pretty much,” he admitted, shrugging his shoulders. 

You sighed deeply and looked out the window, gaze focusing on the shining full moon. "I'm bein’ nice to you because you're a human being who's been through a lot of unfair shit." You turned your attention back to him, eyes locking with his. "I think a little kindness is the least you deserve, don't you?"

He didn't respond, taken aback by your kind words, and after several seconds of stillness, he nodded his head so slowly you'd have missed it if you hadn't already been staring at him.

Of course, this Fontaine had trust issues as well. You couldn’t really blame him. He was keeping it together much better than you would have been in his shoes. 

“Alright,” you sighed, taking one last look around the room before smiling softly at him, “anything else you need before I go to bed?” 

“Yeah,” he nodded as he plopped down on the bed, “can I get my gun back?” 

Hmm, you thought. You didn’t see why not. Slick Charles was gone and the situation seemed diffused for the time being. 

As you approached him, you carefully removed the weapon from your waistband, holding it in your palm. 

You held out your hand to him, and he reached out to take it, but you pulled it closer to your chest and said, “As long as you promise to keep it away unless our lives are in danger.” 

“Aight.” he agreed, reaching for the gun again, but you tightened your grip on the steel. 

“I’m serious, Fontaine.” 

He rose slowly, towering over you while peering down into your eyes. You took a much-needed step back since you could hear every breath he took and smell the sweet tang of his cologne.

The corners of his mouth turned up in a sly smirk as you took a step back from him. He cleared his throat and gave you a look, indicating that he was being serious. 

“I promise,” he whispered, reaching for the firearm for a third time and this time you let him take it.  

After ensuring that Fontaine number two was settled in, you closed his bedroom door and shuffled around the apartment, switching off all the lights and checking that the entrance and windows were locked.

You entered the bedroom you shared with your boyfriend and gently closed the door behind you. Fontaine was already in bed, pretending to be sleeping. 

“So, what? You gonna pretend like today ain’t happen?” you asked, folding your arms over your chest in annoyance. 

“Y/N,” Fontaine groaned, pulling a pillow over his head to drown out your voice.

“Don’t ‘Y/N’ me, ‘Taine! We have to discuss this,” you walked over to your dresser and began to undress, pulling a drawer open to grab a set of pajamas. 

“I ain’t in the mood to talk about this shit, aight?” 

“Were you ever goin’ to tell me about all this wild shit that happened to you?”

He tightened his grip on the pillow, pressing it down even further over his head, ignoring you.

You tossed your clothes in the hamper and finished buttoning your pajama blouse before marching over to the bed, flipping back the covers, and snatching the pillow off his head.

“Fontaine!” 

“What?!” he fumed, sitting up as he glared at you wildly. 

“You can’t ignore this! Not this time. Why didn’t you tell me this happened to you?”

“What was a nigga supposed to say?! Hey baby by the way I was made in a fuckin’ tube,” he scoffed then shook his head.

“Wait, so you think me findin’ out about you bein’ a clone would make me love you any less?” you asked, your frustration dissipating as you noticed the petrified look in his deep brown eyes.

“You don’t get it…”

“Then explain it to me,” you urged.

“Nah. I’m goin’ to sleep,” he said, turning his back to you and settling under the covers. 

You weren't sure how much more of this you could take. You were used to Fontaine shutting down amid difficult conversations, which you understood to some degree, but it was becoming painfully obvious to you that he didn't trust you at all. Most likely, he never did. It's unfair to you because you've never given him a reason not to trust you.

What’s a relationship without trust?

You switched off the lamp on your bedside table, let out a deep breath, and slid beneath the covers. It took some time, but Fontaine's soft snores eventually lulled you to sleep.

#ugh these are so fun to write!! #they cloned tyrone fanfiction #they cloned tyrone fic #they cloned tyrone fanfic #they cloned tyrone #fontaine #fontaine x reader #fontaine x black reader #black reader insert #black writer #my fics #tct mf

[daydreamingsirens]

t-shirt.

fontaine x gender neutral!black!reader.

words: 784.

warnings: it's just straight smut, y'all.

***

Fontaine opens the door to the apartment. It’s silent, but he knows from the shoes in the hallway that you're home. He shrugs his jacket off and hangs it on the coat rack as he pads into the living room.

He calls your name. The house is dead silent. “Bae, you here?“ Still nothing. That’s strange.

He heads into the hallway leading to your bedroom and sees the shut door. Bucky raises an eyebrow and smirks. Shut doors only mean one thing around your place.

He turns the knob and pushes the door open. His jaw hits the floor.

You’ve got on that shirt. It’s nothing special, just an old, black shirt of his that he bought 2 sizes too big on accident that stops right above your knees. But, it drives him wild when you wear it.

And right now you’re wearing it just for him.

You grab him by the collar of his t-shirt and pull him inside, sitting him down on the wing chair in the corner facing the window.

“Look at me.” you command.

Fontaine doesn’t take his eyes off of you as you reach for the hem of the shirt, pulling it up over your thick thighs and your soft, fleshy belly, before pulling it over your head and letting it drop to the floor with a muted thud.

You're not wearing any underwear.

He beckons you with a crook of his finger and you slink over, coming to sit on his lap. You can feel the hard press of his dick against your ass and grind down on it.

He grabs your hips, fingers sinking into your flesh. It’s not quite hard enough to bruise, but just enough to make you stop.

“Bae.” his voice sends shivers down your spine. He means business now.

“Yes?”

“Did I tell you to sit down?” Bucky runs a hand up your side and traces around a nipple lightly. She shakes your head. “Stand up.”

You stand, he makes a twirling motion with his finger and you turn around. You can hear him shifting in the chair and he growls out another command, “Bend over.”

You obey, resting your hands on your knees. You feel his hand rubbing circles on your ass before a heavy smack and a flash of pain runs hot along your skin. He slaps your ass a few more times, delighting in your gasps before gripping generous handfuls and spreading you open. 

You can practically see the smirk make its way across his mouth, golds flashing. But then he scoots forward and buries his face between the thick cheeks and presses the tip of his tongue against you.

You clutch your knees and lets out a whimper as he worships you, mouthing at you like a juicy peach, sucking, and fucking your with his tongue. He drags a fingertip across the thick flesh of your ass and delights in your hiss of pain as he presses kisses into your skin in false apology.

Fontaine feels you shiver when he slides one, then two fingers inside, pumping them slowly and crooking them so they drag across your sweet spot on every pass. The only sounds in the room are your harsh pants and the soft squelch of his fingers. He wriggles them for a few seconds and feels you seize up, so he stops and pulls them out. He moves his other hand from your ass and pops the button on his jeans and tugs the zipper down, letting out a breath as he pops the digits in his mouth and sucks them clean.

“You taste so fuckin’ good.” he growls as he tugs his jeans and boxers down to his ankles. He grabs your hips and sits right above his dick, leaning back in the chair, your back against his chest as he holds you and positions himself to slide right up in you on the first stroke.

“Oh shit.” you moan, body thrumming with the sensation of being filled. He drags his hands over your belly and over your chest, fingers digging almost painfully into your skin.

“Is this what you wanted? You wanted me to fuck you?” he asks, voice brushing over the skin of your ear like velvet. You choke on garbled words and gasps and moans as he fucks into you, his balls smacking against you.

“Fuck-shit—ah—Fontaine!” you whimper as he bounces you on his dick. Every single inch of your skin is on fire, sweat beading on your forehead, and you're aching with the need to come. He slows his pace, lifting you up higher and sliding almost completely out before just letting you drop down and bottom out completely.

You fucking scream.

#fontaine x black!reader #fontaine x gn!reader #fontaine smut #they cloned tyrone #they cloned tyrone fanfiction #cr0wnwritesit