Episode 1: Enter the BBC
Kenny leaned back against the cracked wall in the lobby of his project building in East New York, arms crossed—one foot back against the wall.
He stood 5'10", wiry build with just enough cut to show he still hooped when the mood hit. Deep brown skin tone with that hood glow—covered in tatts, smooth, unapologetic, and built to be touched. He was on his regular shit—Jordans, grey sweats and no draws—thick ass print that swayed when he walked, wife beater, durag with the waves spinning underneath. sharp sideburns coming down from under it, lined up goatee and mustache. A diamond in each ear and a gold cuban. Scent of shea butter, weed, and Dior Sauvage clinging to his skin like sin.
Yari kept her eyes up. Mostly. But she kept drifting down to that dick.
He caught her looking and smirked. “It’s about time you came through, shorty. You been frontin’ on me and my mans.”
Yari rolled her eyes, shifting her weight to one hip. “I wasn’t frontin’, nigga. I got mad school shit. Unlike you, I actually read books.”
“Word? You gon’ come in here talkin’ spicy wit ya little hot tamale ass?” He stepped a little closer, voice dropping like it belonged in her ear. “You look too good to be actin’ fake studious.”
Her phone buzzed.
Anna❤️💋 on the screen.
Yari sucked her teeth, hit accept. “Yo.”
Anna wasted no time. “Where the fuck you at? And who the fuck is Kenny? Jules said you went to some nigga crib?”
Yari turned slightly, free hand on her hip. “Yo le dije a Jules pa’ donde iba. No necesito que tú me chequee, coño.”
(I told Jules where I was going. I don’t need you checking me, damn.)
“Coño, don’t play wit me, Yari.”
“Estoy bien. Relax. I’m busy”
There was a momentary pause before Anna responded “You better not be with no dusty-ass—”
“I’m with Kenny. And Von. And they not dusty.”
“They? Bitch who the fuck is they” Anna said type annoyed now.
Kenny chuckled under his breath, catching just enough. “That the bestie?”
Yari smirked, gave a little nod. “I’ll call you later. Don’t wait up.” Click.
She hung up and turned toward the elevator as it dinged open. Kenny didn’t move yet—just dragged his gaze down her back like he was previewing the night.
“You ready?” he asked, low and slick.
Yari stepped in first, the sway in her hips loud as fuck.
Kenny followed. Like it was already his.
—
The elevator opened on Kenny’s floor. He stepped out first leading the way to the apartment.
Yari walked like her name came with a warning label—slim waist twisting with every step, ass high and hypnotic under ripped jeans. Her jet-black knotless braids swung low, brushing the top of that bounce. Her top had no mercy—cropped tight, the chill in the hallway making her nipples pop through, rings visible under the fabric like a secret only real ones noticed. Her waist chain caught the hallway light with every sway, glinting just above the dip of her jeans.
Kenny looked back once—slow—and grinned like he already heard her moaning into the pillow.
The hallway smelled like weed, fried something, and a bad decision she already made twice in her head.
Kenny unlocked the door and let it swing open. Pop Smoke was playing loud through a speaker somewhere—that Brooklyn beat wrapped around her ribs before she even stepped in.
Von was on the couch.
Grey sweats. No shirt. Light skin, tatted. Braids parted down the middle, coming down to the side. Two diamonds in his ear. arm stretched across the back cushion, the other holding a half-dead blunt between two fingers. Legs spread wide, an open invitation for her. He didn’t look up at first. Just dragged on the blunt, exhaled slowly. Then his eyes cut to Yari.
“’Bout fucking time.”
Yari arched a brow, smirked, took a step in like she wasn’t lowkey holding her breath.
She went to sit—then Kenny caught her wrist.
“Hold on,” he said, already grinning. “You gotta do a 360 for my nigga Von.”
Yari scoffed. “Y’all got me on spin cycle now?”
Von’s eyes dropped to her waist. “Nah. Just tryna see what the Bronx do”
Kenny leaned back against the door, arms crossed, watching like it was a talent show. “Damn mami!”
Yari popped her gum, turned—hips first. Waist chain catching the light, jeans hugging every step of the spin.
She was halfway through it when Von reached out and slapped her ass—hard. Open palm, deep impact, sound bounced off the walls.
“¡Diablo!” she jumped, twisting around, hand on her hip. “You wild as fuck nigga!”
Von didn’t flinch. Just pulled on the blunt, eyes still low. “You the one came in here wit all this cake.”
She sucked her teeth but couldn’t stop smiling. Finished the turn anyway.
When she faced front again, Von was smirking now. Blunt between his lips. Kenny licking his lips like the appetizer just arrived.
Von stood up slowly. He was 6'0" of lean muscle, chest defined, arms hanging heavy—the kind of quiet strength that didn’t need to show off to be felt. His thick Print swayed as he took a step toward Yari. No drawers.
Yari didn’t say nothing. Just breathed.
He stepped closer, and his scent hit—smoke, woods, vanilla, heat. Stuck to her tongue before her mind could catch up.
That’s when Kenny slid up behind her, hand sliding across her waist, the other tugging her braid like he wanted her attention and her breath at the same time.
Kenny’s hand slid down from her braid, trailing past her collarbone, slow over her tit. His other hand found her waist again, fingers spreading, rubbing her through her jeans like he was already planning where to leave prints.
Yari’s breath hitched—but she didn’t fold. She turned to Kenny and pressed her hand against his chest, stopped the movement.
“Hold on,” she said, side-eyeing both of them. “What we doing? Y’all don’t got no bed or nothing? This how y’all moving?”
Kenny laughed, already backing up with his hands in the air like my fault.
“Ayo, shorty tryna negotiate comfort like she not bout to be in positions,” he said, grinning. “Von, handle that.”
Von didn’t say shit. Just stepped forward, grabbed her like nothing, and scooped her up over his shoulder, hand firm on her ass.
“¡Dios mío!” she shrieked, squirming in his grip. “You fuckin’ serious?!”
Von smirked and kept walking.
Kenny followed behind, talking shit. “You had all that mouth in the lobby—now you screaming over a piggyback? Wait ‘til we really start.”
The bedroom door swung open, Von tossed her—effortless. Her 5'4" frame hit the bed and bounced once, knees parting like instinct.
“Ayo!” she yelled, laughing mid-shriek. “Y’all got no fuckin’ chill—”
Kenny was already peeling his shirt off, chain still swinging. “Damn, ma,” he said, licking his lips. “This what them college books been hiding?”
Yari started to sit up, but Von was at the edge of the bed, already tugging at her jeans.
She slapped at his hand, playful. “You not even gon’ ask?”
Von raised a brow. “You not even gon’ stop me.”
She didn’t.
Jeans hit the floor. Panties next. Kenny pulled her top up—nipples out, rings catching the light. Yari laid back on her elbows, breath caught between curse and command.
Von stepped out his sweats first—thick honey-brown dick hanging semi, weighty like it knew what to do.
Kenny followed, deep brown and darker at the tip, dick swinging low, skin slick with heat and hunger.
Yari’s eyes dropped low and stayed there.
She exhaled.
“Oh... shit—”
Do you think Yari’s gonna survive Kenny and Von?
Sound off in the comments 👇🏾
