#They Cloned Tyrone fanfic
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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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#fontaine x black reader#john boyega smut#x black oc#black oc#smut masterlist#masterlist#black!fem! reader#black!reader#black reader#black writer#black fanfiction#john boyega#they cloned tyrone fanfic#they cloned tyrone smut#tyrone x reader#smutty#henneseyhoe
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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.
&&&
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
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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
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Shea Butter Baby
I wrote this in a fit of horniness. it's not great. It's absolute garbage and I'm just rambling but Fontaine got me out of my writing rut. This is literally so quick. like written in less than 30mins.
Summary: Fontaine is obsessed with you but he always talking that shit.
Warning: Fontaine's filthy ass mouth, your equally smart ass mouth, a little bit of a breeding kink if you squint, Cowgirl position.
He's getting dizzy, drunk on your whimpers and curses. Your thick and warm thighs stick to him. your slick folds coating your inner thighs. The beaming sun aids to the sweat that beads and slides between the middle of your breasts. Fontaine wanted nothing more than to lick it up. Taste everything that you are willing to give him. He wants to consume you whole. But as you bounce on his thick cock, he knows that he's the one getting consumed. Your brown eyes bore into the very soul that he knows he doesn't have. And yet, just your eyes lit it ablaze.
Your sultry moans echoed through the walls like a velvet vice around his neck along with the slapping of skin. The moment you feel yourself getting closer to your orgasm, you throw your arms around his neck and screw your eyes shut. "Don' close them pretty eyes, look at me. Lemme see them eyes," he's desperate to chase both of your orgasms.
Hes rutting up into you at this point. He's clenching his gold teeth, grunting and hissing absolute filth as he bucks his hips to match your bouncing, "finna...fill yo guts...slut you out...fuck my kids into you...fucking slut."
"Big talk coming from somebody that's bout cum just from this," you smirk down at the man.
"Girl...fuck...you," he looks pathetic biting his bottom lip as his grip on your hips tighten.
"Fuck, you already are," your attitude never falters, even as your climax approaches.
"C'mon baby, give it to me," he wants to know if you're just as smitten with him as he is with you.
AAAAHHHHHHHH GOODBYE
#john boyega#they cloned tyrone#fontaine x reader#imagines#fontaine smut#they cloned tyrone smut#they cloned tyrone fanfic#Spotify#John boyega smut#they cloned tyrone imagine#ari lennox#smut#John boyega x reader#tyrone x reader#fontaine x black!reader#black!reader#fem reader#fontaine x black reader#They cloned tyrone black reader#They cloned tyrone fem reader#tyrone x black!reader
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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!
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(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
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KNOWING THE DIFFERENCE
Summary: Yo-yo's sister gets dragged into the Three Stooges mess when they come to her grandma house running from trouble.
Warnings: none
✏️✏️✏️
Ressee loved to sleep. It was one of the only times she ever truly felt peace. So naturally she hated whenever something or someone woke her up. It always made her heart beat a mile a minute and feel slightly confused.
When Ressee fell asleep tonight she was, once again, at peace. She had been sleeping good when she heard knocking on her window. She sat up quickly, heart racing, trying to figure out what the hell was going on.
The knocking came again. Ressee hopped out of bed making her way towards the window. She looked out to see her sister, Slick Charles, and Fontaine outside. All three looked like they had seen a ghost.
She quickly ushered them in. Watching as they all climbed in the window one by one, she looked out to make sure the coast was clear and then she closed it back.
"When y'all change the locks on the front door?" Yo yo whispered.
"This morning." Ressee told her as she handed her the new key. "But what the fuck y'all got going on?"
Ressee looked the three up and down, making sure to glare at Slick Charles.
"Fuck you looking at me like that for?"
"I can look at you however I wanna look at you."
"Nah, you mother-"
"Both of yall shut up before you wake up Grandmama!" Yo yo whisper shouted to the two bickering idiots. Slick Charles and her sister always have had problems with each other. For good reason too, but now wasn't the time for them to argue.
"Fuck what they talking bout, when we going back to that underground lab?" Fontaine asked, anxious to get back to the lab he saw himself dead in.
"In the morning, Taine. We gotta lay low for the rest of the night."
Ressee looked at her sister like she was crazy.
"Underground lab? Y'all niggas high?"
"This don't pertain to your Kermit The Frog as-"
"Shut the fuck up Limp Di-"
"Both of you shut up! Look the underground lab is a lab underground that we got to through a secret elevator in a house and it had a buncha weird powdery shit that made us laugh and a weird looking white black man and a dead Fontaine who really isn't Fontaine because Fontaine is right here with us!" Yo yo rambled off, her shoulders sagging in relief when she was finished.
Ressee looked at the two men to see if they believed anything her sister had just said just to see they were already looking at her expectantly. She sighed. She wanted to believe that this was some coked up idea Slick Charles and Yo yo had come up with, but Fontaine didn't look high. His eyes were just slightly wide. So everything her sister said must've been somewhat true. It was just so hard to belive though.
"First of all, what is a white black man?"
"After everything she just told you, that's your first question?" Slick shook his head in disbelief.
"He was white but had an afro." Yo yo said while eyeing Fontaine who had started pacing the floor.
"I'm Fontaine. I ain't dead."
The night's events still had him on edge. His thoughts were racing a mile a minute.
"Taine chill. We'll go back in the morning to check it out." Yo yo lead him towards the bed. Ressee was going to protest him sleeping in her bed, but decided against it. He needed it more than her if she was to believe their tale.
"I'll go with y'all. Ya know, to make sure."
All three of them looked up at her.
"Yea the more the merrier." Slick grumbled and she rolled her eyes at him.
End of part 1
Part 2 coming soon🙃
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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🐍🐍
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Hood Nigga Deluxe 2
Fontaine × Black Reader
Part 1
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, betrayal, date activity, spooky szn, smoking, blood play, dark romance
You're oversleeping a Saturday morning away when the obnoxiously booming bass of a familiar song explodes from car speakers, effectively waking you up. There goes Fontaine's annoying ass subwoofers disturbing the peace. Groggy, you throw your feet to the floor and get yourself together with minimal basic hygiene and a basic ass fit.
"You aint call, my nigga?" Falling into the passenger seat, you're a little agitated and still tired.
"Something came up."
You know what that means. It's some chitty chitty bang bang hood shit that you don't wanna be looped into.
"But I've got a few hours. You up for that shit we talked about?"
You kiss your teeth, mood lifting. "Yeah nigga..."
The ride out has a flow. You gotta pass the densely packed urban areas to get to the more rural developments where there are actually trees and grass. The country road lined with tall and vivid green trees on both sides brings you great peace. You feel like a giddy child, the closer to the destination you get.
"It's a different world outside here," you sigh, taking in all the greenery as he parks in an open lot surrounded by fields.
He turns the car off along with Lil Baby. Almost immediately, he's reaching in the glove compartment, pushing aside the black and milds and going under the gun for the backwoods cigarillos and weed.
You ignore the five wads of cash banded up as he closes the compartment and starts assembling a blunt, his expert fingers wrapping quickly.
"I can't believe we're going apple picking," you smile in disbelief. "Doesn't this go against your natural programming as a self-proclaimed hood nigga?"
"I'm not the activity type if that's what you mean," he mutters.
"It is. Why you don't ever ride out to get away from the bullshit? You got a whole car."
He takes a pull, and your mouth nearly waters, knowing exactly how it feels and what it tastes like. He passes it, giving you your moment.
"I stay where I know people."
You blow your smoke as you nod, fully understanding. "Not that there's anything wrong with that... but that's why you have me to broaden your horizons. We ain't finna get turnt at an orchard, but we can have fun, forget being broke or having responsibilities for a lil while, let the magic take over."
"Magic," he echoes.
"Magic," your fingers spread and wiggle.
The orchard doesn't disappoint. There are apples EVERYWHERE. In the trees, different kinds of trees. On the ground, making it hard to find spots near the trees to walk by. They're yellow and green for the most part and beautiful. Real and natural gmo free apples. Families are scattered with kids playing in the crisp air. Fontaine gravitates to a grove of ripe red ones where he bites into one fresh from the vine. You follow suite enjoying one of the most fresh, crunchy, sweet, and juicy tasting apples you've ever had.
"I'm still confused on how you eat."
You take another big bite. "Food is a comfort. I eat it for the feeling and the taste like chewing gum, but blood is that premium. It's got the nutrients and vitamins that a growing girl needs."
"You probably need a fix right now."
"You offering?"
"Yeah. Come here," he pulls down the bulky lining of his hoodie, revealing your go-to spot.
You rest a light hand on his shoulder and squeeze as you sink your teeth into the designated area of skin, careful not to drip or spill the earthy and metalic juice of life. He's used to the impact, and you're starting to think that he likes the little nibble of pain. Getting your dose for the moment, you keep in mind the environment. Y'all are in the middle of a grove among families. Young love in the air is cute, but you can't go too far. You lick your lips clear of blood as you pull back to wipe the corners of your lips.
"You ever thought you'd be dealing blood?" You smirk and start walking, knowing damn well you're his first.
"It's not really dealing if I don't get paid."
"I offered to pay you."
"Don't nobody want ya lil dingy money."
You giggle softly and the two of you walk together with a basket, picking up and pulling pretty apples to take home.
But first, you find the stands offering apple everything.
"There are two different kinds of hot apple cider, Fontaine. Did you know there was more than one apple cider? I thought apple cider was apple cider." You get a cup of both for comparison's sake. "Why am I the guinea pig when my favorite flavor is metal... this one," you raise the left cup.
That's the one he tries as you watch to see if he likes it. He shrugs.
"At least you tried it."
Interestingly enough, he finishes it and ends up getting more. It must be growing on him the more he tastes it.
"That was fun," you exclaim, once back in the car with the apples, applesauce, apple butter, and apple juice in the back. "Would you do it again next year?"
"Hm," he sighs.
"Don't bullshit me, Fontaine."
"Yeah, I'll come back."
You smile wide in a close-lipped show of high cheeks. "Where to?"
"I got a couple.. things to take care of so I can drop you home."
"That works. Stay safe. Try not to do anything too reckless."
You settle into your bed with your eyemask and chill genre playlist on bluetooth to serenade you to sleep. You're out before you know it but wake up to your ringing cell that's charging at your head.
"Hello?" It's 5:49 AM. Who the fuck. "Fontaine?" You listen, your heart dropping. He sounds pissed beyond belief. You've never heard him like this, so animatedly aggrieved. He's usually so nonchalant. "Slow down, what are you saying?" He's in a full meltdown. "I'm coming," you promise, getting up immediately.
"Shit," you pace, "Shit shit shit. Not now." It was only a matter of time, but still. You weren't ever looking forward to addressing this. You're not ready. Still, you make your way over to the apartment he shares with his mother. The apartment door is unlocked and ajar. "Fontaine?" You look around. There's a shattered glass in the hall like it's been thrown with water or something in it.
His mother's bedroom door is wide open.
You gulp, walking nearer. He's inside, sitting on the floor against the wall staring at the lonely record player that plays the voice of his 'mother' in the center of an empty room... This is the point where he realizes she doesn't exist.
"You know something about this," he accuses suddenly, making you a little defensive. Your hackles come up.
"What are you saying?"
"You walked in here looking guilty without an ounce of confusion..."
"That doesn't mean I'm not just as confused. What's going on?"
"What's going on?" He's quietly seething, staring daggers into you.
You feel like shrinking. You feel like confessing and begging for forgiveness, but you aren't sure how much he really knows...
Until he pulls out the inch-thick instruction manual. It's the nail in the coffin. He tilts his head, like you can but the bullshit because he knows it all. "You feel like talking now?"
"Fontaine..."
He flings the manual across the room, missing you on purpose by a thin margin.
You take a deep breath. "I didn't want you to find out this way. I wanted you to live a normal life like anyone.. with dignity."
"Dignity? What dignity? You telling me I ain't fuckin real? My memories? My mama? My brother? None of that is real," he questions, his mind and soul visibly broken through the window of his eyes. "I don't exist," he wonders, moreover to himself.
It's trippy, you understand, but you could never give him the empathy and understanding he deserves because he's right.
"I'll tell you anything you want to know," you whisper, keeping your distance for his comfort and sanity.
"What am I?"
"You're Fontaine. You'll always be Fontaine. But technically, you're an AI Intimacy Partner specially designed on request... You're not the only AI IP, but you are the only Fontaine because you were made for me."
"For you?" He stares, his thoughts going wild as he puts everything together in his mind.
"You're-- what they call the hood nigga deluxe. The company that created you, set up this apartment for you based on the memories and habits they programmed you with. They said not to let you open that door," you point.
"And the blood?"
You sigh. "Customization." You had them fill him with Type O blood like a giant juice box, and it seemed funny at the time, but you didn't expect him to be so lifelike. You regularly forgot he was AI.
"So what am I, your personal blood bag?" You can hear the disgust and betrayal. It stings.
"This wasn't what I wanted. I wanted you to be happy on your own with or without me. It's why I paid so much money upfront and in insurance when I had you designed from scratch. Every detail of you was meticulous. You were built based on my ideal type and description of perfection." He even pays for himself by 'working' and paying his own rent, supporting himself.
It's no good, you see it though in his face. That's a face of hatred. He will NEVER deal with you after this, and he's mid identity crisis. You don't know WHAT he'll do, and honesty, you're a little scared about it. Not that he could really hurt you, you being immortal, but he could try, and he could do damage to himself.
You leave without a fight when he asks you to, knowing what you need to do. It wasn't included in the handbook for this very reason, but you have the company contact number in your phone contacts and a pre-agreed upon guarantee that they'll come out as soon as possible to fix things if you put in a request via their help line. That's what you do.
They finally come out 3 days later, and by that time, Fontaine is gone. You haven't heard from him, and the apartment is empty.
"Thanks for nothing. He's gone now," you grouch, pissed at their delay. They don't take it personally, of course, they don't give a fuck about your emotions.
"Not quite," they say, setting up a laptop to show you GPS points on a map. "All of our models come with an embedded homing chip that lets us know their location in case of situations such as you described. We retrieve them, wipe recent history with a gentle reset, and bring them back to you. That's what your insurance does."
You sit up, feeling relief but also kinda terrible. "You're telling me he won't remember?"
"Nope. Nothing within the past 6 months."
It's another hit in the gut. "That means he won't remember the good either or anything we did, the talks we had?" It breaks your heart. You hold all those moments special, but it'll be as if they never happened. You'll be starting over practically.
"It's a steep trade, but at least he'll be in your life again."
You wanna slap him for being so casual about it. He doesn't understand how hard it is. You grew to love Fontaine and he was falling for you in a natural and humane way. You don't want that changed, but it's already been changed. "This is hard," you whimper, wanting to cry a little bit, but you can't just leave things as they are. Fontaine is stubborn, and once he hates you, he hates you. You made him that way.
An alert says that he's been located outside of the city, and developers are seizing him.
"What do you want us to do," the rep asks, waiting on you to answer him ad he re-gathers his things to leave your home. You cover your eyes, feeling like a traitor to your own man.
"Do it. Wipe him."
For the next six hours, you wait anxiously waiting for an update. They're supposed to fix him. An update comes that night with a generic ass thank you for your business message attached through email. You visit Fontaine's apartment immediately, knocking on the door.
He opens it slowly, watching you as you stare up at him, praying and hoping...
"Fontaine?"
"What's the problem? Come in the house," he backs up, letting you in to get you our the hall. You look around subtly seeing everything cleaned up and his 'mother's' room door closed. You smell backwoods and weed and his fresh, clean scent. There's a blunt between his fingers.
"I just--I had a bad dream," you lie, pinching the extra fabric of his sleeve. "You were in it."
"You dreamin' bout me now?" There's interest there in his expression, no longer the hatred that was emanating through him like electricity. It's almost unsettling.
You approach him somewhat sideways, still feeling him out. "Fontaine, what's something you've always wanted to do on Halloween that you haven't done?"
He hesitates, confused at the sudden change in direction, but considers your question. "I'm not a Halloween nigga."
"Would you go apple picking with me," you test, looking for any sign of memory, but he looks flabbergasted.
"Apple picking?"
"Yes."
"Do I look like a nigga that go apple-picking?"
You withhold your reaction, stealing his blunt to calm your nerves. It's bittersweet that he doesn't remember. You sit on his couch and call him to sit beside you as you rest your head on his shoulder, then test your hand on his lap, going into the waistband of his striped grey sweatpants.
He gently pauses you.
"Do you want me to stop," you meet his eyes to ask.
"Nah... I don't mind. I just wanted to see what you'd do."
"Stop of course." You proceed with his consent, squeezing and rubbing his dick to encourage the blood flow. It hardens bit by bit, growing as you touch it. He leans back enjoying it while you smoke simultaneously.
"Come with me back to my place so we can do it without your mama hearing us," you whisper.
"You know what time it is?" He takes the blunt back for a quick pull.
"I don't care." You take the blunt back again from his fixed fingers to puff, leaning in close to blow gently up his nostrils. His head remains invitingly still as your lips linger inches from his, ghosting close enough for him to feel you breathing.
"How you breathe when you vampire," he whispers, legit curiosity meeting lust. You bite his bottom lip.
"Reflex. It's just something I'm used to doing. Kind of like sucking dick. I kinda just do it."
"Show me," his eyes command, but you leave him dry and hanging, standing up, ready to go.
"Come over, and I will."
"So tell me about this nightmare," Fontaine says as he parts your legs by the knees and lifts them by the ankles and calves, lowering his head to your inner thigh to kiss around your panties.
"It was enough to scare me," you sigh. "I dreamed you'd left. No text, no goodbye, just abandoned me."
"Why would I do that?"
"You'd better not," you respond, feeling the familiar motions of him going down on you. He hasn't forgotten that, thankfully. There's a ton he hasn't forgotten, and you have to look on the bright side of that. You just have to train him again, a tiny bit.
"I'm not going anywhere," he confirms.
"Then fuck me like you're not ever leaving me. Don't be fragile."
It's all you needed to say for him to up the ante. He didn't forget how to fuck. You dig your fingers into his back as he pounds into you missionary-style with your legs around his waist. It's good enough for a night where your mind isn't where it could be.. which is present.
Fontaine lays in your bed as you think, his bicep cupping your head comfortably as the big spoon.
"You've been off since you showed up at my door tonight. What's really going on," he asks suddenly.
You swallow your emotions and go for asking the question you've been building since you knocked on his door. Him flipping out was rough. You don't want that again. You need him far away from that forbidden room. It's the only way you'll have peace and go back to normal.
"I've been wanting to ask you something really big." You look up to eyeball Fontaine. He looks at ease, half sleep, but still alert. "It's a pretty big thing."
"So ask," he smirks.
It's not that simple. Nothing is that simple.
You decide to rip the bandaid off and just say it. "I want you to move in with me."
He coughs suddenly, lifting to sit up, his brow raised. "I don't know."
"I do... Ain't you cramped over there?
He nods.
" Exactly. You'd have way more space here to live and move."
"Eh.... I'll run it by my mama."
"Mama? Fontaine... Do you need her permission? Just move in with me! We'll split the rent."
He smirks, giving you the low side-eye. "I'll think about it."
"Think about it," you reiterate because if he's with you, that means he can't open that damned fantasy running bedroom door.
"I'll think about it," he says again, stern like he's done with the topic.
You sigh, knowing you have to let it go and remain ready for the worst. That emotional explosion wasn't how you saw the relationship turning. You're still hurt for him and harboring those feelings, though he doesn't remember a thing.
Or does he...
"I won't forgive you," he says suddenly, his turned turned away in the shadow of the room. "But I understand now what I am and what I'm here for."
"Fontaine," you bolt upright in bed, alone and in daylight. It's the middle of the afternoon on Sunday. You've been sleeping hard as fuck and having thee worst nightmare that Fontaine actually found out the truth you've been hiding from him all this time. Thankfully, it was only a nightmare, but it was realistic enough to truly shake you into preventative measures. You have to get him outta that apartment and with you in yours where you can protect him from what he doesn't know.
You call him immediately and he answers.
"Yeah, what's going on?"
"Fontaine, come see me when you free. I wanna ask you something, but I wanna ask you in person."
"Ard.. I'll be there sometime around 5-5:30."
"Cool," you hang up, leaving your bed for some air. That nightmare fucked you up.
The End.
@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
#original#they cloned tyrone fanfiction#fontaine#fontaine they cloned tyrone#they cloned tyrone fic#black fanfiction#black fanfic writer
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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
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I’m also thinking about some other fandoms to be honest.
#bnha x reader#haikyuu x reader#diverse yn#plus size reader#me#they cloned tyrone#black panter wakanda forever#bottoms film#I have no brain cells just intense need for fanfics#jjk x reader#kinktober
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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.
✮✮✮✮
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
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Stay With Me
Pairing: Tyrone x Black!Fem!Shy!reader / Plus Size reader
Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Smut, PWP, cursing, PIV, oral (male and fem receiving), cum play, possession kink, size kink, breeding kink if you squint, all consensual. Praise kink. Use of n-word. Mention of depression. Mentions of negative self-talk.
Summary: You never thought in a million years that Tyrone would look at you with desire in his eyes. Tonight, he does.
Word Count: 5,885k
A/N: I....sort of went overboard with this. I'm going to be soooo groggy in the morning! I hope I did it justice! Likes are always awesome. Please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers!
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
“Man, get the fuck off my porch,” Tyrone spat out and callously slammed the metal door in front of the girl’s face. You almost felt sorry for her. Almost. It was Tyrone. Of course he was gonna act like a dog after he got some play. You weren’t blaming her. But you had to keep your heart out of being with Tyrone.
The girl continued yelling so he slammed the wooden door in her face as well. It cut out of the long stream of curses and names she was calling him. She called his name and banged on the metal door, the sharp sound hurting your ears.
You watched Tyrone shake his head and return to the couch next to you. You hid a smile as you looked him over. He wore his usual dickies and black T-shirt and his hair was pulled into smooth cornrows. He blew out a breath and shook his head, settling into the couch and pointedly ignoring the banging on his door.
“Bitch act like she the police,” he muttered.
You turned your attention back to your phone. The TV played some type of game. You didn’t bother to remember which one. Tyrone endlessly flipped through channels never settling on anything.
“Go on and say it,” he said.
You looked at him and smirked. He settled sideways into the couch so that he was partially laying on your legs. You were propped against the arm of the couch, your elbow digging into the rough fabric.
“I ain’t say nothin’,” you said quietly. Even after all these years knowing Tyrone, you never managed to get over how hot he was. There was a subtle attractiveness about him. His energy or his vibe or just the way he walked and moved.
“But you want to, so go on,” he said. He turned his attention back to the TV but you saw the way his jaw flexed. He hated unnecessary drama. Well, that’s what he said. And yet, there was always some girl chasing after him because of how he dogged them out.
The girl at his door finally gave up banging on it. It was clear Tyrone wasn’t going to answer. You couldn’t tell Tyrone shit. Not a damn thing. Once he set his mind to something, there was no moving him.
For someone that hated drama so much, he was constantly in the middle of it. Whether it was his dealing, his boys, or the skirts he chased.
“There’s nothing I can say that you ain’t heard before,” you said. You smirked at your phone. Tyrone would have another girl on his porch soon. Upset and angry. Rightfully so. Tyrone never promised tomorrow. Yet without fail, there was someone thinking that they could change him. That was like expecting the sun not to rise.
“But yo ass gonna sit there smug and shit until you say somethin’,” he said.
“You make it sound like I nag,” you said and rolled your eyes.
“Might as well,” he said.
You kicked at his shoulder and he turned and bit your calf. “Ass,” you told him.
“Come on, shit,” he said.
You rolled your eyes and stared at him. “You need to be more selective with these girls you fuckin’. They stay on your damn porch,” you said.
“I can’t help it. I see some sexy ass thighs and I wanna get between ‘em,” he said. He looked at you but you knew the comment wasn’t directed at you. You ignored the long standing ache in your chest. It wasn’t his fault that you couldn’t control who you were attracted to.
Look at him! How could anyone not be attracted to him? Tyrone moved through the world like it owed him something. Like it was his God-given right to breathe this air, walk these streets. That type of confidence and self-assuredness was attractive.
You on the other hand…you knew you were shy and awkward and weird. The adjectives were like scarlet letters painted on your forehead. You had been called all three your whole life. Like they were dirty words equivalent to calling you a slut or a whore.
There was nothing wrong with those things. But if you heard it enough, it tended to take on a new meaning. One that you couldn’t leave behind. The scarlet letters proclaimed your identity before you had a chance to introduce yourself to someone. One look at you and people sized you up. Whittled away any chance of proving them wrong. Add in your resting bitch face and you turned people away without trying.
No kidding, today, you overheard someone say, “nah, she look mean” when they were looking for a place to sit. Was it a crime to not smile all the damn time? No one told men to smile that often. As if you were supposed to deal with bullshit day in and day out with a goofy ass smile on your face.
Tyrone waved his hand in front of your face. “You stay spacin’ the fuck out,” he said.
“I heard you, I was just thinkin’. You can help it. You just don’t want to,” you said. You went back to scrolling through your phone.
“What’s wrong with liking sex?”
You shrugged. “Nothin’. You could use some discretion though. How you know these people are clean?”
You shivered. The last thing you wanted was a sexually transmitted disease. The thought of it was embarrassing enough. You couldn’t imagine looking a doctor in the eye and explaining what happened.
“I wrap my shit. Plus, I don’t fuck every bitch I meet,” he said.
You laughed so hard that you threw your head back on the couch. Your sides hurt as you laughed.
“It ain’t that fuckin’ funny,” he mumbled, sucking his teeth. That only made you laugh harder. If there was one thing you could say to describe Tyrone, it was that he was a whore. An entire whore.
Whenever you hung out, he and the boys would see a fine girl walking by and crane their necks looking at her ass. You were relegated to “one of the boys”. They knew full well that you were a girl and were capable of being fine too. But no one took the time to warm up to you. No one desired you that way. You didn’t turn heads. You made people laugh until they realized you were worth looking into.
It wasn’t a dig at yourself. You just knew your role in life. You were like the song on the playlist that someone added and forgot about. Until you came up on shuffle and the listener realized that you were actually fire.
You sobered up with a deep sigh. Giggles still escaped you but Tyrone was not having it. He stared you down as if you kicked his puppy. “I’m just sayin’. You got a rep,” you said.
“A rep for layin’ pipe,” he said with a cocky grin. You rolled your eyes. Why did you bother with him in the first place?
“Sex should mean something, Tyrone,” you said.
He sucked his teeth and rolled his eyes. “That’s ‘cause you ain’t had no good dick,” he said.
A strangled noise escaped you before you kicked at his shoulder. He moved out of the way. You did manage to kick him a little. He chuckled and held onto your foot to prevent you from kicking him more.
“I’ve had good dick, thank you very much!” You said.
“Bullshit. You’d still be fuckin’ if you had good dick,” he said.
“That’s not true. If you layin’ good pipe like you say, you fuck anything that moves. I’m just not into sharing like that. I ain’t trynna have my vag on fire,” you huffed and concentrated on your phone.
Usually, you and Tyrone had an unspoken rule. He and the crew talked about their escapades all they wanted and you pretended to be grossed out and uninterested. You never mentioned your stories. There wasn’t much to tell. And they knew it. But they never made fun of you for it. Worse. They thought it was adorable.
Because yeah, the one thing you wanted to be was adorable. Just once, you’d like to be sought after. To have someone hot and sexy in your DMs begging to get in between your legs.
People thought overweight girls were supposed to be happy with the ashy niggas. The dorks who couldn’t hold a conversation. The ugly muthafuckas with an uglier personality who thought you should suck they dick because they held the door open once.
“A’ight, who you fuck that had good dick?” Tyrone asked.
“I’m not telling you!” The tips of your ears burned as you tore your gaze away from him. For fuck’s sake, you’ve told worse things to your girls. You and your girls got graphic. Recounting sexual encounters and rating them amongst the others. Your girls had more stories than you, naturally. Damn. You really ought to stop putting yourself down.
Tyrone chuckled. “‘Cause you ain’t had no good dick, that’s why,” he said. He shook his head and went back to flipping channels.
Dismissed. Just like that. Your ears burned for different reasons. “I ain’t gotta prove shit to you, Tyrone. Worry about yourself and your diseased dick,” you said.
“Nothin’ diseased about my shit. Wanna see?” Tyrone went to the fly of his pants and your eyes widened.
“Something is seriously wrong with you,” you said. Just like that, you were laughing again. Tyrone was the only person who yanked your emotions around. You shouldn’t let him get to you. But he claimed to do it so that you would loosen up.
“I’m not a robot,” you had told him one day.
“I know. But you cool as shit and you won’t let anybody see it,” he had said back. That shut you up for about a week. Tyrone had to track you down and drag you out of the house, thinking you were in a depressive mood. You didn’t have the confidence to tell him that what he said shifted your axis.
You thought he only saw you like an annoying sister he had to drag everywhere. You practically grew up together. Your houses were right across the street from each other. If he was outside, you were outside with him. So to hear him give you a compliment touched parts of you that you learned to bury.
You blinked and turned to Tyrone who was leaning over you, his face closer to you than it’s ever been. Even when he had chased you when you were twelve and you both got tangled in the water hose and fell on top of each other.
“I can help you with that, you know,” he said.
“With what?” Your voice was quiet.
He slowly licked his lips as his eyes trailed down. “Gettin’ you some good dick,” he said.
You chuckled. “How you gonna do that? Gonna put an ad out for the big chick needin’ dick?”
“Why you do that?” He asked.
“Do what?” You were starting to get an attitude. Whatever game he was playin’, you wanted no parts of it. This was a cruel joke, even for him. And he never let you live down your prom. Not because of how you look, but because of how your date looked. He still brought it up.
“You stay puttin’ yourself down. Like you gotta do it first or somethin’.”
You gaped at him. “I-” You didn’t have anything to say to that. It was instinct to call out the elephant in the room. If not, someone else did it and was way meaner. You weren’t going to let anyone make you feel bad about yourself. But your self-deprecating humor was hurting you more. Perhaps you wanted someone to correct you, just once. To say, “fuck that, you sexy as hell”. It was a stupid wish.
“I’m just sayin’. I can help you out with it,” he said.
“You want to fuck me,” you said. You tried to hold in your laugh. You tried to take him seriously, but you felt a slow grin cross your face. He didn’t smile back. Instead, his eyes narrowed and he looked at your lips.
“Damn right. Been trynna fuck you for a while,” he said.
Your jaw dropped. Where the hell was this coming from? You sat up straight but he was still near you. He was close enough that you smelled his spicy scent and could see the dark pools of brown in his eyes. Only a few inches separated your lips from his big, juicy ones.
“What?”
He grinned. The cocky muthafucka. “Ain’t you noticed it’s just been us hanging around lately?”
No. It wasn’t until he said it that you realized. The boys had been noticeably absent. Instead of hanging with them while they roamed the streets or sat outside Tyrone’s porch, it had been just you and Tyrone. Watching TV, playing games, or taking drives up the 405 when the traffic died down. You were just happy to spend time with him. Any way you could get him.
You thought it was awesome that his crew didn’t want to hang lately. You got to be selfish and have Tyrone’s attention. That was him…flirting?
“Oh,” you said.
He laughed and shook his head. “I figured yo ass didn’t know,” he said.
He stood up, giving you enough time to breathe and deal with this turn of events. You ran through every interaction, wondering how you could be so blind.
“Nuh uh. Don’t disappear on me,” he said. He pulled you up off of the couch and took your phone. He tossed it on the couch and led you down the short hallway to his room. You had been there plenty of times. You had cracked jokes with the rest of his friends that it was radioactive with how much sex he was having. He’d wave you away, saying it wasn’t like that.
You expected it to be gross. But it was refreshingly clean. He still had shit everywhere, though. Stray clothes piled on his desk chair, clothes spilling out of the closet. He had a wall of shoes stretching towards the ceiling. What was it with guys and shoes?
He closed the door after leading you into the room. You stood there, awkwardly. You weren’t sure what to do. You hadn’t had enough time to freak out about this new development.
He chuckled at your awkwardness and grabbed your hand again, pushing you onto the bed. “What you say? You wanna see what we can get into?” He asked.
You looked at him. He wasn’t pushing you. You could’ve pulled your hand away in the living room and told him that he was crazy. “You wanna fuck me,” you said. You still couldn’t believe him. You pictured this so many times in your head. But now that it was offered to you on a silver platter, you felt like a virgin all over again.
You were aware of everything. Every sigh that left his lips. The subtle drape of his shirt on your bare arm. The heat leaping off of him.
“I wanna fuck you,” he said.
“Why?” You asked. You swear, you weren’t trying to be this dense. It just didn’t make sense to you.
“Why not? You’re fine as hell. And funny. You cool as shit,” he said.
You bit your lip as you went through all the women he had been with. He didn’t really have a type. Petite and cute was a common theme. Petite as in being short as hell. You supposed he never really been with a super skinny chick.
Tyrone was a big boy. He had some meat on them bones and it showed every time he moved. He was a solid dude. He’d probably break someone that was skinny.
The wet heat of his lips pressed against yours and you gasped. Tyrone pulled back and grinned. “Stay with me. C’mon, give me a chance,” he said.
You grinned and leaned forward, kissing him for real this time. Tyrone pushed his tongue in, rolling it against yours. You felt it down to your core. You moaned softly.
“Take these off for me,” he said. He tugged on your shirt and played with the hem of your shorts.
You stood up and pulled off your shirt. Then you unzipped your shorts and shucked them off. You stood there in your bra and panties, feeling both turned on and incredibly shy. You crossed your arms but he shook his head. He peeled your arms away from your chest and he looked his fill.
You were too nervous to look him in the eye. To look at his face. Goddamn it. You didn’t hate the way you looked. But you couldn’t get over your insecurities. “Can we turn off the light…?”
“Fuck no!” He scooted closer to the edge of the bed and grabbed your hips. He pulled you closer to stand between his legs. He rubbed your sides, your ass, and your thighs. He kissed your belly and you gasped.
He looked up at you. He licked your stretch marks. You placed your hands on his shoulders to keep your legs from folding. How long has it been since you had sex? A while. And that had been a desperate attempt at latching onto the first halfway decent guy to look your way.
He nibbled on your love handles, squeezing your flesh so he could take a big bite. You slapped his shoulder and he laughed. “That shit hurt!”
“Good,” he said. He looked at you, daring you to do something about it. Again, insecurities robbed you of any idea of what to do next. You wanted to be sexy and take the lead. You wanted to entice him. Instead, you stood there while he kneaded the back of your thighs.
“Hey, relax. Stay with me,” he said.
He prompted you to climb into his lap. You placed your knees on the side of him and rested on his lap. His thick cock pushed against his shorts and you gasped as you got your first feel of it.
Okay, you sort of got why these girls would bang on his door like that. He ran his hands up and down your back as he kissed you slowly. He played with your lips. First he’d kiss you. Then he’d pull back and lick your lips. Then, he’d run his tongue across your teeth and you shuddered.
He was content to do just that. Until you were squirming in his lap, trying to get some friction. He ran his hands across your back, fiddling with your bra until he unclipped it. He drew the cups down until it hung on your arms. You moved your hands from around his neck, but he shook his head.
“Put that shit back and hol’ on,” he said. You smiled and put it back on his shoulders. He kept his eyes on you as he put his head down and licked the top of your breast. You stuttered with a sigh.
He moaned as he latched on to your nipple and started to suck. “Oh shit,” you said. You leaned up, you weren’t expecting him to suck that hard. In fact, you hadn’t known your nipples were that sensitive. Guys mostly ignored them, too busy trying to fuck.
But Tyrone worshiped your titties. He went from one to the other, sucking and nibbling on your nipples. He sucked and yanked on one and it was like he yanked on your clit. Your wetness was pooling in your panties and you wiggled. If you were bare, his shorts would be ruined. You hissed as he yanked harder.
“Fuck!” You said and tapped his shoulder. He let go with a wet pop and your nipple stayed beaded and swollen. He did the same thing to your other titty. “You do this shit to other bitches?”
“Fuck no. You ain’t no bitch to me,” he said. He laved at your titty, encircling it with his tongue before he flicked it. You made all kinds of sounds as your eyes rolled back a bit. His hands gripped your ass and slid you higher on his lap.
Surely, he had to be hurting. His crotch was bulging and thick. It couldn’t have been comfortable for him.
His words finally registered and you melted into him, pushing your chest into his face. He grinned. “Yeah, that’s right. Give me that shit,” he said. He reverently licked and sucked on your titties until your panties were truly damp. You didn’t have time to overthink. There was nothing but his heavenly mouth on your breasts.
A strangled sigh left you. You were grinding down on his dick. You almost had him in the perfect spot to rub against your clit.
Abruptly, he stood up with you in his arms. You panicked. All the tension returned as you left the ground. You clung to him and he chuckled. “I got you,” he said. He kissed your cheek and the corner of your mouth until you focused on him instead of how much it would suck to crash to the ground. Carpet or not, the shit would hurt.
He laid you down on the bed and removed his shirt and pants. He rubbed himself over his briefs but he leaned down and took off your bra completely. He kissed your neck, licked your collarbone, and continued down. His hands peeled your legs apart and you moaned at the force he used.
“So fuckin’ pretty,” he murmured into your skin. “You wet for me?”
He didn’t wait for you to answer. His fingers traced your pussy through your panties and he groaned in satisfaction feeling the wet spot there. You gyrated on his hand while he kissed his way back up to your face.
He pressed his thumb in, pushing your panties into your clit and he rubbed harder. “Oh shit,” you moaned. He swallowed your moans. He kissed you and continued to play with you over your panties until you were panting and shaking.
He kissed down to your ear and bit at your earlobe. “Let that shit go,” he said.
You whimpered before your knees slapped together and you came with his hand still on you. “You so pretty when you cum,” he whispered in your ear.
He stood up with a satisfied smirk as he watched the last dregs of your orgasm leave you. He removed your sopping wet panties and kissed your knees when he finally got them off. He rubbed and caressed your thighs until you were relaxing against him once more.
He opened your legs and stared at your pussy. “Fuck. So fuckin’ pretty. You ain’t had nobody work yo shit, huh?”
You shook your head but realized he may not have seen it. “No,” you admitted. No one had done half the things that Tyrone just did. He made you cum without really touching you. You weren’t sure if you should be embarrassed or impressed. It should not be that easy to get you off. It usually took you a long while. So much so, that you gave up foreplay with men.
Tyrone stuck his nose against your clit and inhaled. You yelped and jerked up the bed. He bit your thigh and his arms hooked under your legs. He pulled you back down and placed his nose against you, sniffing you. He rubbed his nose in your wetness and you choked on a half laugh, half moan.
“Goddamn,” he moaned. His tongue darted out to get a taste and he moaned again. “Taste fuckin’ good too. Matter of fact, I’m mad at you now,” he said.
You leaned up on your elbows and looked at him. He was a damn good sight to behold. His head was still dipped between your thick thighs and the look on his face…you wished you could take a picture. He looked hungry. His eyes were wide and he kept licking his lips as if you were still on his tongue.
“What you mad at me for?” You asked.
“Keeping this fuckin’ pussy from me,” he said. You choked on a laugh. He dipped down and ran his tongue from your pussy to your clit. Your hips bucked and he held you down with his arms.
He held you in place as he continued to lick you like ice cream. He was slow and methodical, letting you feel his tongue as it swirled around your wetness. Your pussy pulsed in time with his licks and you squirmed on the bed.
“Oh fuck,” you moaned. You were near crying. He teased you without mercy. He brought you to the brink of cumming over and over, only to retreat and play with something else until your ass was back on the bed.
A giant wet spot spread under your ass as you gushed arousal. He placed open mouth kisses on your clit, dragging his lips through either side of it. “Fuck, please. Please Tyrone,” you murmured.
“Please what?” He asked and lazily circled your clit again.
You bit your lip. You didn’t know what you were begging for. Begging to cum? Begging for him to do something else? Begging just to beg?
“Let me hear what you want from me.” He nosed through your slick and you bucked. “Let me hear that sexy, squeaky ass voice,” he said.
You laughed. It was more like a few puffs of air. Sweat gathered everywhere. You should feel gross. Instead, you finally felt…desired. He wasn’t down there, eating you out as a prerequisite for having sex. He was down there because he wanted to be.
He suckled sharply on your clit and you hissed. “I ain’t gonna keep tellin’ yo ass to stay with me. Get out of your head for once,” he said.
You grinned at him. “Yes, sir.”
He moaned and licked at your clit. “Say that shit again, I like that,” he said.
“Yes, sir,” you said.
He grinned around your pussy. Your slick dripped down his chin. His entire face was wet with your juices and it only turned you on. He moaned as he felt your pussy clench. He was bringing you to the edge again. You couldn’t stand it.
Your body was overheated. Your hands clutched at his sheets desperately. You licked your lips. “Please…I need to cum,” you said.
“You think you deserve to cum?” He asked. “Ain’t I already give you one?” He continued to lap at your slick and you twitched and jerked with the painful need to cum. Your belly was too tight.
“Please, please, please,” you said. You threw your head back and forth. You needed something, soon. If you were denied one more time…
“Please, Tyrone. Don’t…I need to cum, please,” you babbled. You were saying anything at this point. You may have offered him your first born or a lifetime of blow jobs. You weren’t sure. But his deep, rumbling laugh skated over your sensitive skin. He rarely laughed. Each time he did, you cataloged it for later. When you were indulging in a delusion that involved him and this exact scenario.
“Since you asked so nicely,” he said. If you thought he was serious before, it was nothing compared to how he attacked your clit. Like a starving man who’d just been offered a king’s feast. He flicked your clit with the tip of his tongue. Playing with the swollen nub until you were stuttering and hollering.
Tears of relief finally leaked out as you came with a high wail. You felt like you were inside out and upside down. You entered a sixth dimension somewhere. There was only pleasure. Unwavering, unbridled pleasure that swept over you in waves higher than the ocean. You were lost and unmoored. Head empty.
You panted as you drifted back into your body. Somewhere between all of that, Tyrone had cleaned off his face and his briefs were gone. He looked down at you and stroked himself as he watched you.
You struggled to your elbows as cold air hit the giant wet spot beneath you. It was lurid, the way you sat in a puddle like that. A puddle of your own making. You didn’t know you were capable of being that wet.
You wiped sweat from your skin. You needed what he held in his hands. You sat up, your eyes focused on his dick. You wanted to return the favor. You wanted to suck him off. To bring him to the brink of oblivion like he just did for you.
He chuckled as you reached for him. He stood close and you took him into your mouth. “Fuck,” he said. He threw his head back and jerked his hips forward.
You went to work, bobbing up and down on his dick. He barely fit. You sucked and slobbered all over him, sucking him in as far as he could go. You used your hands to get to the rest of him, twisting your hands and letting your slobber drip down his dick to make your hands glide better.
“Goddamn, suck that shit. Show me you want this dick,” he encouraged. Sighs and moans escaped his mouth as you pleased him. He encouraged you to go faster and faster until his hips were jerking. He grabbed your head and slammed you further onto his dick. He fucked your face until you were gagging on him. The sound only spurned him on, to keep going and fucking your mouth.
“Better swallow this shit,” he said. He let loose, cumming with a loud groan. You lied earlier. You wanted to take a picture of him like this. With his eyes closed and his jaw slack. His face scrunched between pleasure and pain.
His hot load squirted down your throat. You gulped the salty taste of him down. Every last drop. He cursed as he emptied the last of it. He slipped out of your mouth and ran his fingers down your lips. You licked your lips and suckled his thumb into your mouth.
He gripped your chin and moved your head from side to side. You blinked slowly at him. “You been hidin’ this mouth from me too,” he said. You shook your head with his thumb in your mouth.
“That’s a’ight. I’ma fuck that shit again. Lay back on the bed,” he said.
All hints of shyness were gone. You let go of his thumb with a wet pop and scooted further up the bed. This was Tyrone. Your best friend. There was nothing to be shy about. He loved your body. Truly loved it. And by extension, you learned to love it through his eyes.
He followed you onto the bed, his knees sliding between your legs and pushing until you were completely spread before him. He placed his hands on either side of you, the bed dipping under his strength.
He leaned on one hand and lined himself up. There was something in the back of your mind, but you couldn’t think what it was. The thought eluded you as he slowly worked his way in.
His eyes closed and his mouth twisted as he moaned on his way in. He stretched you out, impossibly big. You tensed a bit. You weren’t used to someone quite this big. He noticed and started to kiss you.
He still faintly smelled like you. It was so hot, tasting yourself on his lips that you moaned and clenched around his dick. He groaned and pushed in more as you relaxed. The hand that was around his dick started to rub on your clit and you whimpered and cried.
You were still so overwhelmed by your last orgasm that you twitched every time he rubbed your clit.
“Look at you. Can’t even say shit, can you?” He asked.
You shook your head. “Feels too good. Too fuckin’ good,” you said.
“Yeah? It’s too much for you?” He pushed in further and your jaw dropped on a soundless scream.
“Goddamn it, Tyrone!” You slapped at his chest but that only made him chuckle. He grabbed the hand you slapped him with and held it to the bed. He trapped your hand there as he really started to move.
“Oh shit, oh shit,” you groaned. Your other hand pushed at him. Your nails dug into his chest leaving half moon imprints on his pec.
He increased his pace as he dropped all of his weight on you. His strokes were deeper until you were sure that the tip of his dick was hitting your cervix. “Oh shit, oh fuck,” you said.
“Yeah, talkin’ all that shit. This is what good dick feel like,” he said in your ear. He leaned up, pushing your legs to the bed so that you were neatly folded in half. At this new angle, it was like he unlocked a deeper level inside of you. You felt every inch of his dick.
“No…condom…” you breathed out.
“Shit,” he said. His eyes widened but he didn’t stop. “Feel too fuckin’ good to stop. Pussy so fuckin’ tight and wet for me,” he continued.
You clenched around him. On every stroke, he wrangled more and more incoherent sounds from you. You didn’t know what the hell you were on about. You wanted to be mad that he was hittin’ it raw. But he felt too fucking good. Too fucking right. He belonged there in between your legs. It was a silly idea, but it was true. He was made for you. You had no claim to him. You didn’t know what any of this meant, if it even meant anything.
So you held on. You scratched at his back wanting to leave some kind of memory behind. Some kind of mark to show that you were there. That you meant something to him.
“You take me so fuckin’ well. Shit. Good fuckin’ girl,” he said.
You whined. It was the words you needed. You exploded into a million shards of star dust beneath him. Light blinded you as your orgasm whipped through you once more. Your legs squeezed him and he came with you. He grunted and painted your insides with his cum. He kept stroking as if he was trying to fuck his cum in deeper. Wanting to claim you the same way you wanted to with your nails.
He dropped onto you, one big sweaty mess. You clung to him, not ready for him to leave just yet. You were still settling down and it felt like you were still fractured. Holding on to him was holding your body together at the moment.
Slowly, you opened your eyes and he lifted his head. He kissed you once and then twice, lingering. He leaned back and grinned while he panted. Completely spent.
He caressed your check. It was an unexpected show of gentleness that you didn’t think he was capable of. Don’t get it twisted. Tyrone was dangerous. But in the moment, he was just your best friend.
He looked at you as if really seeing you for the first time ever. “Stay with me,” he said.
You grinned and nodded. Yeah, you’ll stay with him.
&&&
Did you like this? Need more in your life? Check out the other Tyrone fics here: Masterlist
#Megaminds Secret Files#The Secret Tyrone Files#Tyrone x Black!reader#Tyrone x Black reader#Tyrone x Fem!reader#Tyrone x Fem reader#Tyrone x Shy!reader#Tyrone x Shy reader#Tyrone x reader#Tyrone x you#They Cloned Tyrone smut#They Cloned Tyrone fanfic#They Cloned Tyrone fan fic#They Cloned Tyrone fanfiction#They Cloned Tyrone fan fiction
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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
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An old friend
Summary: It has been years since anyone last set foot on Stans property, every since he had been hospitalized.
Dipper is planning on changing that with help from his sister, and maybe someone else.
Warnings: Cloning, hospital mention, implied suicide, abandoned buildings, implied blackmail, check tags for further warning.
Tagging: @max-the-hecker
Authors Note: I just watched the episode Double Dipper, trying to savor the 41 episodes, and let me tell you, the possibilities this opened up for me to write.
Hands in the pockets of his worn out navy vest Dipper walked out of the hospital, eyes stuck on the cracked pavement, he couldn't help but wish he could do something to fix Stan. He knew he couldn't, and he knew he shouldn't wish on it, but he couldn't help but care so much, Stan was his family after all. He kicked a rock across the ground before coming to a complete halt, taking note of the sound of footsteps rushing towards him. He stayed still while Mabel caught her breath, leaning on Dippers shoulder, she could practically feel the stress emanating from her brother.
"Do you, uh, do you wanna get some ice cream...?" Mabel asked, hoping it would cheer up her brother, she knew it wouldn't but, might as well try.
"No," Dipper replied with sharply as Mabel straightened out her posture and the two continued walking down the street. "I want things to be good again, I want Wendy to come back from the beyond, I want to go back home."
"Hey, Dip, it's gonna be ok," Mabel said, rubbing her brothers shoulder, brushing the tears from his face. "I can ask mom and dad to drive us back as soon as possible-"
"No!" Dipper snapped, expression quickly dropping as he tried to revoke his statement. "I-I mean, not really, I kind of want to head back to the, the Mystery Shack, or our old attic."
"Dipper, it's been shut behind chainmail fences, barbed wire and padlock upon padlock for years." Mabel said as they took a turn, coming up to the motel their direct family had rented two rooms in for their most recent visit, coming once every month just in case Stan doesn't last.
Gravity Falls has become stale, nothing new has happened in forever, Dipper and Mabel suspect the creatures have fled. Wendy is no longer in town, in a better place for lack of better terms, leaving both Mabel and Dipper with a fresh wound their parents don't understand whenever they bring up the trapper hat. Soos is still in town, but he's moved on from the Mystery Shack, holding onto the book Dipper once possessed for safekeeping, having returned it to the lad when he noticed Dipper back in town.
With a heavy heart Dipper swung open the door to the back seat of the car, Mabel slid in first till she was against the door opposite of the one Dipper opened. Dipper hopped in second, slamming the door shut and crossing his arms, pulling the comfort blanket from under himself and tossing it over to Mabel. Normally he would be fine leaning against the window and just sitting silently while the two wait for their parents, but today he was especially broken. He forcefully slammed his torso into Mabel who was unfazed by her brothers aggressive plea for attention, she simply wrapped an arm around his shoulder before draping the comfort blanket over him.
The two sat, marinating in the humid heat of the car, one window open just enough so they wouldn't suffocate in the mid summer heat of Gravity Falls. The silence drilled into Dippers head, maybe it was the blanket draped over his shoulders causing to much heat, was he getting heat stroke? No, he knew what heat stroke felt like, this most likely wasn't it, he sat up before twisting around a bit so his feet would be pressed against the window Mabel sat by, his torso on leather seating.
"Moms gonna kill you if you scratch the window." Mabel said, Dipper opted to rest his legs on the headrest behind Mabel who didn't seem to mind as she slouched against the window, one leg dropped nearly to floor behind the drivers seat, which was opposite to her, the other one resting on Dippers abdomen.
Dipper tossed the blanket on Mabel who tossed it back, they sat tossing a balled up blanket back and forth until their parents arrived and gave them the key to their room. The two rushed to reach their AC filled room, they found the key wouldn't fit perfectly due to the extreme heat causing the metal to expand. They took turns jamming the key into the door trying to unlock it, Mabel got closest to unlocking it before putting out a hand expectantly, Dipper reluctantly handing her the spare bobby pin he had learned to keep on hand.
When Mabel swung open the door they were greeted with a gust of chilling wind, they both heaved a sigh of relief as they dashed inside, Dipper ending up on the pullout couch before Mabel could take the preferred bedding. Mabel found herself throwing a half frozen root beer to Dipper who was greeted with an aluminum can to the face, he groaned in pain before popping the tab and taking a long slurp. Mabel swung her legs over the end of her bed, a can of orange crush in her hand, tongue stained the shade after she finished chugging the can with a satisfied sigh.
"You want to go to the Mystery Shack, right?" Mabel asked, the sudden question shocking Dipper into snapping up, ending up spilling soda on his shirt in the process, he quickly shed his orange shirt before the liquid could hit his skin.
"Yeah, kind of, but, I mean," Dipper said as he put his soda on the carpeted floor, tossing his now sticky shirt somewhere else. "But it got taken away from society when we could've kept it going."
"Dipper, we were fourteen-" Mabel tried to counter, be cut off sharply by dipper.
"Legal in some parts of Canada!" Dipper snapped, pointing a finger at his sister in an accusatory manner, Mabel rolled her eyes, Dipper giving a weak 'Sorry.' before lying down once again, propping his head on the arm rest at an angle that would cause problems later, he wished he could go back to working at the Mystery Shack like the good days, but no, just cause Stan got hospitalized the family business got driven into the dirt.
"Dip, do you want to go to the Mystery Shack or not?" Mabel asked sharply, Dipper nodded, unable to muster a proper vocal answer.
"Yeah, I do, but it's locked up." Dipper said with a sigh as he reached for a light blanket and turned away from Mabel, pulling the blanket over his head as he did so.
"I'm sure we could just, break in." Mabel offered, Dipper sat up slowly, still draped in blanket.
"Mabel, thats illegal." Was all Dipper had to say with a sigh of disappointment.
"Technically it's family property." Mabel stated as a counter argument, that gathered Dippers attention fully, he practically jumped to his feet as he tore through his suitcase for a fresh shirt.
"Then pack your fucking bag, let's go." Dipper said matter of factly before Mabel grabbed her backpack, emptying a few unneeded items, making sure she kept a battery pack, why she had one, no one was quite sure, but she knew she would need it one day.
---
Here we find Dipper and Mabel alike standing at the bottom of a chain link fence, barbed wire coiled in spirals at the top. Dipper put out a hand, Mabel handed him a pair wire clippers, he started working at the lowest possible row of wires, leaving only a foot to crawl through, up and down. Mabel crawled through first, able to slide through with ease, Dipper ended up ruining his hat
"Wow," Was all Dipper had to say. "They really let this place go to shit."
"Yeah man, they abandoned this place." Mabel said, nudging her brother with her elbow, smirking a bit before walking to the front door, Dipper followed close behind.
"Mabel, they didn't leave the door unlocked," Dipper said, Mabel jiggled the handle until it gave way and fell from its socket, that's certainly welcoming. "Mabel, you broke the door handle."
"I'm sure we'll be fine." Mabel said before pulling open the door slowly, a loud creak sounding off as rusted hinges fought to stay shut.
The two were greeted with a cloud of dust and a room coated in webs, some cob and others active. Oddly enough the light shining in from windows was enough to keep the room well lit, they even found that most of the souvenirs were still in place. Out of sheer curiosity, Dipper attempted to turn on the lights, finding the bulb flickered aggressively in an attempt to stay on, enough electricity for just barely one bulb.
"Mabel, can I have that battery pack," Dipper asked, Mabel gave a questioning look at his brothers question. "Please give me the battery pack, Mabel."
"Alright, I'll be on the roof if you need me." Mabel said before handing Dipper the battery pack and jumper cables, one can't simply go without the other.
"Kay, I'll be downstairs if you need me." Dipper said before sliding the battery pack and jumper cables into his own bag, tossing Mabel a can of cream soda, she caught it before walking up the now breaking ladder, Dipper heading to the basement.
Dipper pushed open the door slowly, finding that their was no light in the basement and the stairs faded into darkness. With a sigh he reached for his flashlight and flicked the switch, a cone of light shining down and lighting the way. The roof and stairs were covered in webbing, all of which cob, along with sticky and dried substances, he chose to believe were spilled pop. He took one step onto the first step, a loud creak sounded off, one that could've turned to a crack, he was lucky it didn't as he stepped further down.
When he reached the last step he realized how cold it was, he blindly reached for a light switch, flicking on the single light. It wasn't exactly bright, but it helped, he started on his way to the closest lamp that shone more light than the actual light in the basement. He found that nothing much had changed from what he remembered, one item was underneath a sheet though, and without anything better to do in an abandoned basement, he reached for the sheet and yanked it off.
Dipper was greeted with the sight of the old copy machine, the one that could copy human flesh and bring life to it.
He remembered what this machine had caused, he hated to think of it, he knew three and four were probably still out their living their best lives, none the wiser to Stans case.
He kicked the copy machine with a grumble, never wanting to see it again.
But, he might as well see if it still works, he did miss his copies.
He pulled off his bag before crouching and pulling out the needed items to try and jump start it. He unplugged the machine before hooking up each jumper cable to their respective location, unsure if this was even a mildly ok idea. Without a second thought he started the battery pack, everything was silent before the machine started to hum in contentment as electricity started to flow.
Shakily was how he lifted the lid of the machine, it snapped off, he hoped he could fix that as well. Hoping it wouldn't break under his weight he hopped on and laid down on his back, pressing the button on the side of the machine. He took note of the how the green strip of light tingled against his skin despite the vest and pants he wore, he had to refrain from squirming as his genetics were copied.
He heard the sound of paper being shot out as the green light shut off, he slid off the glass screen before waiting for the paper to finish printing.
As the paper fluttered down to the floor he stood expectantly for something good to happen.
Dipper sat on the creaking floor as he waited, nothing happened for quite some time, maybe he was wrong hoping that the old thing would work. He picked up the paper and held it in front of him, nearly dropping it when the copy started to push from the paper, he did fall back when he was hit with the full weight of his double. The internally rotting floorboards nearly snapped under their combined weight, they shared a look of fear.
They both scrambled to move from the floorboard, Tyrone ending up slamming himself into the copy machine, he gave a weak groan as his still forming body ached. Dipper ended up knocking the lamp off the edge of the counter, the bulb shattered with a high pitched sound as the metal cooled and dimmer. The two sat in near perfect darkness and silence, relatively heavy breathing the only thing that could be heard.
Tyrones heart beat pounded in his ears, suddenly back again after so long, how long had been out for?
Oh, he was confused.
He couldn't believe he had been brought back, a swarm of fresh memories hit him. His confusion turned to grief and stress in a second as he crossed his arms loosely.
"So, I guess you've forgiven me after so long." Tyrone said as he stood up, plain blue and white cap in his hands.
"Yeah, one could put things that way." Dipper said before standing up, rubbing one of his arms nervously.
"Ha, it's kind of awkward you know, I haven't been in existence for so long, yet, I'm back again, in your time of need, again," Tyrone said nervously, looking to the side as he rolled his eyes. "If you could call Grunkle Stan dying in a hospital a time of need."
"Guess so, it's been really rough lately, and I guess I wanted to see someone who would understand." Dipper said quietly.
"Do you want a hug or something?" Tyrone asked, considering he had only existed for only four and a half hours, he had no clue what was socially acceptable in this situation, didn't help he was Dipper, that only made things worse.
Dipper nodded slowly, nearly on the verge of crying, if it weren't for the distance he would've felt safe to body slam Tyrone as a hug substitute. Instead of a body slam he took a running start, knocking Tyrone back onto the printer, the battery kicked out of the way in the process. The edge of the printer dug into Tyrones back, but he didn't complain, simply attempted to comfort Dipper instead, not one hundred percent sure of how.
"Hey Dipper, do you have any more cream soda?!" Mabel shouted down the stairs as she slowly stepped down, coming to a complete halt when she reached the bottom.
Ever so slowly she raised her phone, smirk growing wider as Tyrone silently begged her not to, she ignored his silent plea as she snapped the picture.
"I guess my brothers gay for his clone."
"Mabel, this is nothing like what it looks like."
"Sure."
#gravity falls#stanford pines#mabel pines#dipper pines#pines family#pines twins#wendy gravity falls#dipper clones#tyrone pines#gravity falls fanfiction#gravity falls fic#writing#fanfic#fanfiction#fan fic#fan fiction#tw hospital#tw crying#tw swearing#tw blackmail#tw family#tw breaking and entering
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💧🕸️Bad Day 🕸️💧
(You had one of those days, but you don't end it alone)
A/n: some sweet Fontaine for all the peeps having a bad day!
content: fluff, sad!reader, soft!Fontaine, cursing, bit of a long fic
You slammed the door and locked it, your keys jangling noisily. You didn't hear what Fontaine said before striding into the bathroom and slamming the door behid you.
You had to cry and you had to pee.
One ended up being much faster than the other. The edge of the tub wasn't that comfortable but your tears didn't stop.
You removed your badge and toed off your heels, they were your most comfortable pair but your feet still ached.
Behind your burning lids was the shape of your desk and its mountains of files. Records, invoices, spreadsheets--you couldn't turn it off. You could still feel the keyboard beneath your fingertips as you gripped the edge of the tub.
For some fucked up reason, you swore you still felt someone looming over you and watching you fall apart. You wiped at your face, tugged at your clothes, rubbed your palms along the sink's counter. You tried to breathe but it turned to more ugly sniffles and exhales, the noises clunking around between the tile and ceramic.
"You good?"
Fontaine's voice was a rock thrown through your conscious, bringing you back to your sorry present.
You cleared your throat and stood at attention, facing the mirror on instinct. You looked like shit, "I'm alright! It's-It's bad, don't you come in here!"
Not a lie, but it still felt stupid to say out loud.
You were grown. You shouldn't allow work to effect you like it was, sobbing in your bathroom like you were back in high school. What would he think?
Fontaine was already so good to you, he would worry if he saw you upset.
"I haven't had my kiss yet, y'know..." His voice was nearer to door, low and beckoning. Your eyes welled. His arms was where you wanted to be but you couldn't make yourself move.
Your sniffle tore through the silence--making you wince.
"Mm. You havin' a bad day, baby?
Horrifyingly, you felt your tips tremble as you lied,
"Nah, my day was fine. It was okay. I walked into a, uh, spiderweb on my way in, just now. Got in my eye...s. Got into my eyes."
"Mn. Need me to go away while you handle...that?"
"You can stay....if you want..." You hung your head, "Might take a while..."
"I want to. You gonna the door a little? Jus' so I can see?"
You glared at your puffy faced reflection, "I'm ugly right now."
Fontaine chuckled, "Nah, I ain't goin' for that. You just feelin' that way right now."
The jig was up but the misery wasn't leaving. The more you listened to Fontaine's calming timber, the more you wanted to be in his arms but you couldn't face him. The door creaked as Fontaine leaned against it from the other side.
While you decided that you didn't want to be seen, you still wanted to feel him. The stupid mistakes you made during the day surrounded every thought, making you doubt every move you thought of making.
Frustrated, you put your face into your hands, rubbing vigriously.
He made a sympathetic noise as if hearing the noise in your head.
"The spiderweb was that bad?"
"....It was awful."
"Fuck them spiders, tell me what happened."
The words burst forth and you couldn't stop them. Not for how you were hounded as soon as you clocked in at work. Or when you were questioned about responsibilities that weren't yours, chastised for 'not doing your part ' when you were so busy doing all the other parts.
The sob that burst out of you when you recalled how two supervisors treated you so tersely, how humiliated you felt on the way back to your desk with all eyes on you.
"I know how to do my job, I do. I make-make mistakes, yeah, but not all the time! I can fix them, I do fix them. I just...get knocked off my square and it's hard to square back up."
You were spiraling, the thoughts were faster than the words--you weren't sure if everything was matching up. You felt like you were failing, you felt like you were falling--
You cracked the door and spilled into his arms. Fontaine softened your launch at him by taking you both down the wall and onto the floor. You squirmed into his lap as you cried and after a while, he told you to breathe.
The first was shaking but the next one was a bit better. You both waited until didn't feel as if you were crawling out of your skin. Finally able to be still, sagging with a pitiful sigh.
"There we go." Fontaine pressed his lips to your hair before resting his cheek on the top of your head, "Got all them webs off?"
There wasn't much in the huff you let out but something unlocked in your chest. You still felt weepy, but the sharpness of your misery was worn away now that you talked about it.
" 'M sorry for how I came in, " You sniffled, "I should have at least spoke to you."
"That ain't shit. I was more so worried with what I was hearin' comin' from the bathroom," you felt Fontaine shift back to speak down to you, "You think I ain't never walked through a spiderweb?"
You shook your head as you breathed in his warm-soap scent.
"Not the same. You're too cool for spiderwebs."
"Shieet. Them shits get everywhere, get on everybody. Most of them stick good 'nough to follow you around for a while."
His words made you detach from his chest but you couldn't meet his eye. Fontaine's finger stroked down your cheek as he continued
"No, I don't like seein' you upset but I ain't gonna think less of you. You bringin' spiderwebs in? Let me know. I'll help pull 'em off you."
How lucky were you? This man was going along with a silly little metaphor for a shitty day and sitting on the floor as he wiped your face. How lucky were you?
You turned in his arms and wrapped your arms around him as best you could. Work didn't matter. Not while you were here, where you belonged.
Fontaine pressed more kisses to where he could reach.
"...Thank you."
"Aint' gotta be thanking me, baby. You're good. You had a bad day, did what you had to do, and came home to me. That's all I want."
Fontaine easily rearranged you to be lifted as he stood. Hanging on, you finally began returning the kisses that you were given. Fontaine made a show of standing still and reveling in your attention.
"That's it," he praised, "Now, tell me where you at."
"At home."
"Who you wit?"
"My man."
"That's right. You wanna know what your man wants now?"
You smiled for the first time all day, and nodded.
He set towards the kitchen, "For you to eat this good food he made and to lay your pretty ass on him in bed. I even got your dippin' sauce, see? I ain't even forget it this time."
Nodding as you closed your eyes, your heart aches turning into a hum at the promise of more love.
"Yeah, I see it."
--------------------
end notes: ah, just a little something that wouldn't leave my head! fluff stuff takes up so much room in the brain lol! tell me how you liked it! thank you so much for reading!! 💕
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#fontaine x reader#fontaine x black reader#fontaine x femblack reader#they cloned tyrone fanfic#they cloned tyrone#soft fontaine#fontaine fic#Fontaine x fem reader
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KNOWING THE DIFFERENCE
Summary: Yo-yo's sister gets dragged into the Three Stooges mess when they come to her grandma house running from trouble.
Yo yo was trippin. That's the only way Ressee could describe her sister in this moment. She was pacing the floor in worry over where Fontaine went. Because he had dipped out while everyone was sleep.
"Calm down, I'm sure he's fine." Ressee tried to reassure her sister.
"Do not tell me to calm down right now." Yo yo warned. "They could've got to him."
Ressee looked over to Slick Charles to see him silently agreeing.
"We talking about the underground lab people?"
"Yes." Slick and Yo said in unison.
"Why are they after him?" Just as she was asking the question a knock came from the door.
The three sat there looking. The knocking came again, but this time with a voice.
"Yo yo, y'all in there?"
Ressee watched as her sister let out a sigh of relief at Fontaine's gruff voice. She quickly went to the door to let him in, quickly pulling him through the door. With a quick look outside she slammed the door shut.
"This shit is so fucked up y'all. Everything's gone." He grumbled when Yo yo came back to the kitchen.
"What you mean?" Slick asked. Everyone sat quietly as Fontaine explained how him and his homeboys went back to the underground lab, only to find out that it was gone.
No elevator.
Nothing.
Slick and Yo yo went into a frenzy.
A lot of yelling happened. Some 'what the fucks' and 'maybe we were high' went around as the three relied to figure out what was going on. Ressee just sat quietly as it all happened.
Because, frankly, she was still confused. She had no idea what was going on or what to do. So she just watched as it all played out.
"Wait, wait, y'all think about it. This what them secret government niggas do. They make shit disappear."
"Yea yea that's true. " Slick agreed with Yo yo.
Resse figured if this underground lab was real and was cleaned up by the government then another one must be around somewhere.
"Well they gotta have another one somewhere, right? I doubt they just had one 'round this mfer."
All three looked over at the girl.
"You right, sis. My girl Nancy, would've said the same thing."
Part 3 coming next
But ngl..I'm still tryna figure out where the hell I'm going with this story 💀
#they cloned tyrone fanfic#they cloned tyrone#theyclonedtyrone#fontaine x black!reader#fontainexreader#fontaine fanfic#fontaine x reader#fontaine#they cloned tyrone imagine#slick charles#yo yo#they cloned tyrone netflix#netflix movie#netflixmovie#netflix#john boyega fanfic#johnboyega#john boyega#john boyega imagine#jamiefoxx#10/10#10/10 movie#kei ing yourcar#fontaine x black reader#fontainexBLACK!reader
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