#I’m so good at being employed
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spineless-lobster · 19 days ago
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I have to write a personal bio for my work’s website and this is the single most painful thing I’ve ever had to do like genuinely
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itspileofgoodthings · 3 months ago
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School is going so great and also I am so exhausted and also I am having an existential crisis
#teaching tag#the kids are great and I think I’m doing a good job teaching them and also I miss the ones from last year so much 😭😭😭😭😭#even though I know I will miss these too once they’re gone like why does 😭😭😭 it gotta be 😭😭😭😭 this way#it’s just a totally different vibe every time#the school year has a new flavor!!! and I hate that!!!!!#change is so bad and disgusting 😭😭😭#but also I think it’s good and I’m doing a good job keeping them moving#one of the revelations/realizations that I’ve had. is that I’m just starting to shift my focus#from …. wanting them to be moved to just wanting them to be engaged?#and I think it’s better.#I’m not quite wholly there. but I mean learning how to actually construct a class so that they are busy and their minds are being stretched#and employed and learning on multiple levels without just saying what I want to happen at them#and it’s a good shift but also a shift that’s making me sad#for whatever reason#it feels like another sign of maturity#but sometimes I miss my own highs#mostly I’m just so unbelievably tired lol.#like the physical and mental stamina required that I just don’t have yet#is so much.#but some strong starts have been made#and also (dare I say this lol) the effects of my reputation being established are also working in my favor#they’re a little bit scared. they’re a little bit more ready to engage and they’re more on board than they used to be#like. it’s happening faster. in terms of getting the class under control#and that’s nice. cause I remember it used to take weeks and weeks. months really.#and of course it’s ongoing and unpredictable.#but it’s better this time#anyway just rambling
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kweerkitten · 2 months ago
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vigilantejustice · 4 months ago
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got a good grade in work today (sold $1300 worth of swimwear in a single transaction and the regional manager told my store manager to tell me she’s impressed)
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ozzgin · 7 months ago
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Hi!! Your writing it truly lovely 😭<33 If i could request anything with Zzy? Thank youuu
Yandere! Demon x Gloomy! Reader (II)
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Featuring the goat-legged boy Zzy and a gloomy, newly employed detective Reader! By the way, his name is a little tribute to a series I like. Can you guess who inspired it? Hint: it's Jhonen Vasquez's first comic :D
Content: female reader, perverted goat demon yandere, dark/crass humor!, monster romance, mildly NSFW
[Part 1] [Monster masterlist]
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The detective man, at the very least, kept his word. The pay is good, and you barely have any work to do. The jobs themselves are similarly not too challenging: so far you haven’t had to deal with any murder mystery out of an Agatha Christie novel. Rather, most of the time, it’s someone asking you to investigate their cheating partner, or sending you to do a background check for an employee. Every now and then you’ll get the odd client, but that’s something for another day.
Your boss isn’t all that bad either. You were initially quite hesitant to be alone in the room with him. He always seems to be surrounded by an eerie, dark aura, and you’ve only seen him smile in a menacing, villainous way. Now you’ve gotten used to his strangeness. In fact, it’s almost comforting. There’s something refreshing about another human being honest about their misery. He seems to be just as uninterested in this job as you are, spending most of his time reading at his desk. Despite his unkempt, scary appearance, he's pleasant enough and looks after you. Which, now that you think about it, is a little suspicious. You've seen him act around other people: curt and to the point, disinterested, even potentially rude. With demons, he's ruthless.
"Have you had lunch yet?" the man asks, standing up and dusting his knees. "I can get us something."
You nod and flash him a flaccid smile, although you can't help but ask:
"Listen, aren't you being a little too nice? I mean, I'm not complaining...but I've seen how you behave in general, and I have a hard time coming up with a reason for my special treatment."
He ponders your question for a moment, before his sunken eyes look ahead, somewhere behind you.
"Well…If I’m being honest, you’re kind of pathetic, aren't you? I’m just a little worried that if I’m too harsh, I’ll find out you hanged yourself in your apartment or something. Not that I’d care, but if you’re gone, I’m the one stuck with…that thing.”
Ah. That’s what it was. Almost immediately, a shiver runs across your spine.
“(Y/N)! Are you done yet? I’m booooooored”, a prolonged whine erupts from the neighboring chamber.
“I’m about to have lunch, actually. Do you want any-”
“You know I do! Spread those legs and I can start”, the goat demon declares with a grin, clacking his hooves in your direction.
You sigh.
Of course. Months ago, you were tricked into signing a lifelong contract with Zzy. It was the detective’s way of washing his hands off the matter and warmly welcoming you into the agency. It makes sense that he'd treat you with utmost care, otherwise he'd have to deal with this pest from Hell once again.
How's your life with Zzy going?
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You've since found a way to seal your bedroom, in order to avoid waking up with his groping hands under your sheets. Sadly, the stubborn creature keeps finding ways to bypass your safety measurements. Who would’ve thought that lust is such a powerful driving force?
On top of the nightly shenanigans, you obviously have to deal with him during the day, at the agency. “Listen, it’s like…one of those fidget toys. It helps with stress”, he explains fervently while pointing at your chest. “You want me to do my work properly, don’t you?” He concludes theatrically. “You’re not holding my boobs. This is the end of the conversation.”
If you’re having a bad day, it won’t go unnoticed. “Boy, what a smell, what a delicacy. You’re even more miserable than usual”, Zzy will exclaim, throwing his hands together in a graceful prayer. “You know what the best medicine is? A quick fuck. Let me pound that sadness out of you, eh?”
Despite his constant clowning, the demon does have moments of clarity. He becomes particularly serious when jealous. “What have you done?” You shout in despair, gawking at the client - now morphed into a pig - foaming at the mouth and running around the room. “He was staring at your ass. Only I can do that.” The horned man stands proud, arms crossed, nodding at his own courageous act. His most treasured belonging has been defended once more.
As expected, the jealous curse has gotten both of you into time-out. Zzy because he cursed the client in the first place, and you - despite your protests - because you didn't stop him in time. "Can't you wear something easier to take off? It takes two business days to unbutton this crap", the demon complains as he fiddles with your shirt. You're laying on the sofa, hands behind your head, gazing at the clock on the wall and counting the minutes passing. Unbothered, compliant. The peacefulness of someone who's given up. "Zipper is to the left", you add, aiding the process.
Another irritating detail is that the damned beast can detect the slightest arousal coming from you, and will make sure to announce it loudly, regardless of who is around. "Someone's horny! Whew, getting me all worked up, too." You slap a hand over his mouth, a deep red blush rapidly spreading across your cheeks. You turn to the detective and apologize profusely, but he remains unconcerned, flipping another page. "Let me take care of her first, Mr. Detective", Zzy manages to mumble through your pressed fingers. "As long as you get the task done", your boss responds plainly, never bothering to look up from his book.
"You should visit me down there sometimes", the horned creature suddenly mentions, his head resting in your lap as you idly browse your phone. You stop to glance down at him. "In Hell, you mean?" He snickers at the thought. "No one believes me when I tell them I have a human girlfriend. I need concrete proof, ya feel me?" You raise an eyebrow. "Girlfriend?" He disregards your inquiry and continues: "At least give me a pair of your panties to take back home." Absolutely not.
"Were you this much of a menace before I showed up?"
"What's that supposed to mean?! You can't blame a demon for being in love."
You sigh once more and roll over.
"Does that mean we can go for round two~?" Zzy is grinning at his own suggestion.
"Just go to sleep. Or something."
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bluesidez · 1 month ago
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Can I request a Miguel O'Hara x Curvy reader where they both get intoxicated from sex pollen ??
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[Sticky-Icky]
lab taster: @waterinthefire 🩻
pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Curvy!Reader
summary: He's a lot less irritating when he puts his mouth to better use.
content warning: a PWP but you guys know me (there's a little plot), this is so 18+ that it's crazy so MDNI, sex pollen (or more like Miguel is playing around and doesn't know wtf he's doing), unprotected p in v sex (WRAP IT UP 🫵🏾) manhandling, temperature play if you squint, standing 69, facefucking, creampies, wrong use of webs, biting, breeding, spitting, squirting, cunnilingus, fellatio, fluff if you squint...I think that's it. my god.
word count: 4.3k, halfway proofread
a/n: Listening to Sticky by Ravyn Lenae inspired part of this. Also watching several episodes of Kitchen Nightmares, Hell’s Kitchen, and Law & Order: SVU in the bg kept me sane. And one more rewatch of ATSV.
My duty as a fanfic writer is fulfilled as I give you this mandatory trope. 🫡
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When you first started working at Spider HQ, you were amazed by the fact that one man was able to create all of this.
It was astounding, beyond what the gray tones of Nueva York could ever present to you.
Now, you think back to your glittering eyes during the first year working here and laugh.
Working for Miguel O’Hara was like squeezing a watermelon through a straw. He was impossible.
Nothing you did was ever satisfactory for him. Something could always be fixed. Sometimes, you wonder why he still kept you employed here.
Currently, he was turning his nose up at a salve you were working on for spiders whose healing time wasn’t nearly as quick as others.
“Run a new test. This batch is no good.”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“The formula could be better, it’s too thick, and why does it smell like that?”
The scent was similar to one you wore often and a lot of the spider-people that swung by the pharmacy seemed to like it.
“Uh, jade tea.”
The pinch in Miguel’s eyebrows deepened as he sniffed the air.
“Switch it to something else.”
You huffed, already tired of this conversation, “Well, what smell do you suggest?”
“Anything but this.”
“How about lavender, then? Perhaps peppermint.”
“And now, you’re being childish,” Miguel put the tin down before placing his hands on his hips. “You know there’s spider-people who can’t smell too much of that.”
“Yeah, I got it.”
He plopped a giant file on your desk, “Deal with that later. I need you to work on something else. For some reason, villains across dimensions are obtaining access to a substance similar to rapture. Every time there’s a mission, the spider-person of that dimension has been left affected. I need something to subside the effects until we can get them back here.”
“Ok, well do you have the substance with you?”
“No. But I’ll get you something soon. For now, I have a year’s worth of research on rapture. It should be of some use.”
You took the rubber band off of the manilla folder, something so old school for this era of tech.
You saw a line of formulas that started to make your head spin.
“Are there a lot of people affected right now?”
“Only a few. They’ve used the leftover solution I made a long time ago. It’s only going to work for so long,”
“Good. I need to sleep on this.”
Miguel’s head knocked back an inch, “Are you refusing work? The state of the heroes of different universes relies on this research. It’s not some science project-“
“I understand completely, Miguel, but I’m off the clock.”
He stopped and checked his watch, the red six o’clock burning back on him.
“I only work the hours you pay me, Spidey,” you reach to pat his arm and regret it when his stern face doesn’t move.
“Not interested in paid overtime?”
You bit your cheek to stop the laugh from coming out.
“That’s nice and all, but I’ve got plans.”
“Like what?”
“Like resting, sleeping, not touching lab work with a you-sized pole. All of these are things you aren’t familiar with. Plus, I have a date.”
A pause went through the room as you started to gather your things.
“Since when do you date?”
You push your chair under your desk harder than you mean to, “Since when do you care?”
“I,” he follows to the elevator, “care about my employees.”
“Sure, Miguel.”
If it weren’t for your tired state, you would think he looks a little sad at your statement.
“See you tomorrow, then?”
The doors start to close as you nod your head, Miguel’s gaze stuck just above your head.
Weird. Just like his frequent stops to your lab.
The feeling doesn’t leave your gut even as you’re smiling in your date’s face.
One minute, you’re laughing at a story about some amateur skateboarders Downtown, and the next, an electric billboard is being covered in tiny nano-spiders across the street.
“So the guy just takes one step on the board and then he’s flying. A straight line across the park.”
“That’s,” the spiders start to crawl into different lines. Then a logo forms, displaying the spider on Miguel’s suit next to an exclamation point. “So hilarious.”
Your date chuckles then follows your gaze, the silence too long, “Is there something wrong?”
The nano-spiders flipped around, the regular billboard showing like normal. You squint.
“No, I thought I saw something. Must have been my imagination.”
“You did say you were a little tired from work. Should we raincheck? We can always catch a movie another time.”
You wanted to say no, you’d been looking forward to tonight.
The billboard flickered to a little picture of Lyla with “SOS” above her head.
“Yeah, I should probably get going. Sorry about this.”
The way he doesn’t sweat you practically ditching him makes your heart pang. You’re already dreading another night exhausted and alone. Your date seemed promising.
You wave at him from your taxi, the route leading back to Spider HQ feeling like torture. You unclasp your purse and check your gizmo.
40 missed messages.
It’s not until you’re walking into the regular lobby that you turn it on.
“What is so important that you waste Margo’s time to interrupt my time?”
Lyla pops in your peripheral, hands up and wary, “I’m only doing what boss asks! Don’t get mad at me.”
“Lyla, why am I back here right now?”
“Well, Miguel has gotten himself in some particular trouble.”
You punch the elevator button, “Get to the point, please.”
“He went into your lab to try and start the solution he talked about earlier. After his first accident, he’s never had any luck with lab work, so uh. He’s kind of made a mess.”
The elevator moves and you look at Lyla, “What kind of mess?”
The doors open and you can smell it before you see it.
It’s poignant, like perfume soaked roses and patchouli. The scent hits you hard enough to make you grip the metal opening as you come out.
“What exactly did he do?” you breathe out.
Your limbs start to shake, nerves drumming from the inside out. A weight feels like it landed on your core, your stomach twitching as you continued to take in whatever had transpired.
“Something about DNA splicing and plants. I can trace his movements back if you’d like, but I’m also currently trying to figure out how to reverse it.”
“Great.”
You swing open the door to a disheveled Miguel. He’s sweating profusely as he tries to clean up your lab desk.
Before you can even begin to yell he’s fussing, “Lyla, I told you not to call her!”
“But you obviously don’t know what you’re doing.”
He bites his lip as he tries not to look at you, fingers trembling as he starts to store materials back into their drawers.
“Thought you had a date.”
“And I thought I told you stay away from my station,” you feel like a baby deer walking over to him.
When you get closer he sucks in his breath like you cut him, stopping in his tracks.
“I don’t think you should be near me,” he grunts. His eyes are dark, lips swollen with the way he’s biting them.
“What are you talking about? I’m trying to help you.”
You round the corner of the desk, the image of you two almost comical. Miguel moves to the edge of the desk, chest moving faster, while you chase after him trying to get a hand on his forehead.
He felt extremely cold compared to the numbness of your palm, despite how flushed he looked. His eyes close as your hand slides from his head to his neck, muscles there tensing.
“Please. Don’t,” he whispers.
“Who else is coming here to save you?” you ask, frustrated. “What did you do anyway?”
He doesn’t answer as he peers at you. Your heart is beating faster and you can’t tell if it’s because of the air or because of the way he looks like he’s about to climb you.
Every move you made felt like sharp pricks in your skin, the tight material of your dress digging into your hips. It felt like the ends of burning flames and you wanted it off. Your breaths were picking up and you couldn’t quite comprehend what was going on other than Miguel being your cooling solution.
“Miguel,” you sounded like you ran a marathon when all you did was step into his space.
“It’s the shocking formula that I screwed up. That’s why everything feels-“
“Like I need you,” you interrupt. “Like I want you on top of me.”
The insides of your thighs were fighting against themselves to stay together, the urge to let your legs fall around him strong.
“That’s just the chemicals talking. W-we can get somewhere safe and separated.”
You grab the back of his neck and pull yourself even closer, his hands gripping the table like a lifeline as he groans.
“So you don’t want me?” you press against him, caging a knee around him right next to his hand. “You don’t think about me?”
You can almost feel his heartbeat matching yours as you pull yourself up.
“I didn’t say that.”
“You don’t wonder how I feel when you come into my lab snooping around? How I feel when you come in here barking orders?”
Your face is in his neck and you feel yourself clench around nothing as you take a deep breath. He smells like coffee and fabric softener, but there’s an underlying wave of musk. Of something so unbelievably him and you want to keep that scent close forever.
“I imagine you’re annoyed. But a job is a job.”
“But you still come in here asking for things you know someone else can do,” your panties are soaked, and from the way his nose flares, you know he knows. “Why?”
His teeth grit as you start to grind on him, the feeling giving you an inch of relief that only makes you want more.
“I, I don’t- It’s because I,” the counter began to crack under his hands. His muscles were pulled taut. “Dios, ayúdame.”
Maybe you were wrong, and your hazy mind only brought thoughts from the subconscious one.
“Fine. I get that you don’t like me but could you at least give me some type of relief?” you were whining in his ears at this point, a complete 180 of how you left him earlier today. With every grind of your hips, you left noises in his skin, desperate.
The desk made a terrible sound as Miguel finally lets go and grabs around your waist. Your breath is slammed out of you as your back hits the wall, Miguel’s hand holding your head to stop it from crashing into the wall too.
Your throat makes a gargled sound as Miguel licks down your jaw, his talons ripping into your dress. His tongue swipes into your mouth, breaths rapid as he finally gets a taste.
“I do like you. More than I should,” his words were passed right into you. “You and your smart mouth.”
“Then stop talking and do something about it.”
A yank in your hair stops your complaints, Miguel kissing down your side. Every press of his lips left a chilly flutter. Your hips are moving frantically, patience wearing thin. Right as you’re about to say something again, he flips you, the layers of your dress falling as he rips into your panties.
The blood rushes to your head as he takes a bite into your thigh, sucking as your legs fall to his shoulders.
You moan his name, hands gripping at his thighs. His kisses led to your lips, swollen and dripping. From your clit to your entrance, he groaned as he covered you, drinking like you were water in the middle of the night.
You felt like you were going to slip, but Miguel’s arms were looped around your legs, not letting go. His suit was in your way, your mouth salivating as his crotch stared back at you. Your fingers could only dig as far as his suit allows and you have half a mind to call Lyla to disengage it.
“Please,” you sigh as you rub his bulge with your cheek. “I need it so bad.”
“Cállate,” he hums, face delving deeper into you. The sound of him licking up every drop echos off the cool walls and the light of his suit dims away letting you see what you’ve been waiting for.
His length hits your chin, precum spilling down and you’ve never been more excited for a man to go commando. You open your mouth and let your breath hit him as you take a swipe down to his balls.
Miguel’s grunts and shifts his hips back. His tip swerves around your face as he tries to find your mouth without unlatching his jaw from your sex. You help out with the last bit of sanity you have, and once you wrap your lips around him, his hips snap hard onto you.
All you can feel is Miguel entering you from top to bottom, his hands keeping you stationed in your position. There’s no room to do anything as he’s devouring you and taking your breath away at the same time. Two of his fingers sink into you, and you jerk from the difference between his skin and his tongue.
Miguel nibbles at the hood of your clit, urging you to be still. Whenever his fingers leave you, his pelvis fills your senses. Your throat gags around him, spit building to keep up with his thrusts.
“So good,” he hums. His pace picks up and the tears in your eyes fall to the floor. “Made for me. Only me.”
Your fingers wrap around his thighs and squeeze tight, your vision fading as you try to take in pockets of air. The shake in your legs and the broken moans that escaped your lips only ignited him.
“Bebé,” his hips stutter. He’s sloppy as he drools over the entrance, voice loud. “Bebé, you’re so, ngh.”
He cums down your throat, balls twitching against your face. You close your eyes and try to swallow everything, jaw aching. Miguel groans your name as he slides his dick out to the tip, a few spurts still landing on your lips. You cough, position making everything go north.
The taste of him was delicious, but you needed more of him elsewhere. Your mouth was as drenched as your cunt and yet you still felt empty.
When Miguel flips you back upright, you’re ready to pounce on him again. The state of you both is alarming. Your breasts have completely fallen out of your dress, that black thing barely holding on by its zipper. Miguel’s suit is phasing in and out in the most obscene places. There’s slick up to his eyebrows and his cum is all over your cheeks.
He grabs your jaw and runs his tongue over your face, cleaning up his mess. You let him live in his own bubble before that burning in your core came back.
Your nails dig into his shoulders and your whispers of “more” come to light. You’re clawing at him like a cat begging him to do something, anything, to make this feeling go away.
“Miguel,” you gasp as he sinks his teeth into your skin. “Miguel, it hurts. Fix it, Miggy, please.”
You guide his hands down your body and place them on your ass. His touch sates you for only a moment, but your body reacts as if he needs to be deep in your bones. He spreads your ass and groans as the sound of how eager you are for him follows.
“You’re not ready,” are the words that make you even more frustrated. Your hands pushing and pulling at him, ready to try and put him where you want him to go.
He clicks his teeth and flexes his wrists. His webs tie your wrists together, neon red strings leaving a buzz on your skin. He yanks your dress off and you stumble with the motions.
The clinical room doesn’t aid the building heat you feel, but Miguel turning you around and pressing you into the wall as he cuts the rest of your panties off does.
He squats and grabs two hands full of you.
He spits onto your hole, mesmerized as he watches it slide to your entrance. “Qué hermosa,” he whispers.
You bend, whimpering as your folds cover his nose, clenching and grinding.
“God,” you sigh. Something this small was going to bring you to the edge so quickly. “D-don’t stop.”
“Greedy,” Miguel says as if he’s not moving the fat of your ass to nudge his face into you. The arch in your back deepens as he continues and your whines get higher.
He smacks your right cheek, sound echoing off the metal tables, and you shout his name as you coat his tongue.
Tranquility clears your mind for a second, one where the flowery scent in the air is less strong.
The peace leaves just as fast as it came when Miguel gets rid of his suit and stands behind you in all of his glory.
His eyes followed from your dewey face to the curve of your hips to bitten thighs to feet with one heel still on.
“He didn’t deserve to see this,” he says.
“W-what?”
Miguel ignores you and pulls your wrists up straight, a confused noise leaving you. He wraps another web around your ankles and huffs. He sets your arms under your chest, your hands in front of you like a prayer.
When he picks you up by your waist, his dick lines up with your ass.
He groans as he grinds, watching himself disappear and reappear.
You try to move with him, “No, not there. Inside.”
“You’re always so distracting,” he growls. He slides his length between your thick thighs and you nearly scream as his hips hit your ass, his tip just barely passing over your clit. “Can never think straight when I see you.”
He rubbed over the bite he left on your shoulder, “So pretty. My pretty baby.”
His low voice right in your ears only made you wetter. He was holding you like you were his toy, fucking the inside of your thighs with ease.
Miguel could cry watching your ass bounce on his stomach. Your legs were soft and warm and he just couldn’t stop.
“Want you so bad. Need to fuck you again and again and again,” he said as your thighs quivered around him.
“Please, Miguel. Make me yours,” your voice crowded the sound of his grunts as he held you up and pounded away.
Those were the magic words to get him to lean back with a firm grip on you and release all over the wall. It was everywhere, from your legs to the wall to the ceiling.
He set you to the floor with shaky arms, and you started to sob.
All of this and you still wanted more. If this was making you feel this insane, you can only imagine the small relief Miguel was feeling after being exposed for longer.
“C’mere,” he pulls you to the bare floor and cuts the webs. You immediately try to climb him, legs wrapping around his waist.
He was painfully hard for someone who came twice now.
Your cries of “inside” slur together, tears running down your face. Miguel was no better, fangs dripping with venom and the hairs on skin raised.
The two of you tussle as Miguel tries to keep your hips to stay stationary. You kept jerking in order to get some sort of friction but he was baring his teeth to get you to quit.
You dip your nails into his shoulders and arms while he drags a talon down your sternum to snap your bra off.
A clatter of your stiletto sounds off across the room as he pinches your thigh, “Easy, beautiful. Let me take care of you, yeah?”
“Fucking hurry,” you whine.
He shushes as he plunges inside of you, the noise you both make as loud as a choir.
Your eyes roll back as Miguel presses, bending your body in half.
“You’re going to be the death of me,” Miguel leans to whisper onto your lips.
Tight is the first thing that comes to mind and heat is the next.
He moves his hips up and slams back down, your ass shifting from the pressure.
“Miguel!”
“That’s it. Talk to me.” All of that chatter earlier and now you can barely get out a word.
“H-harder,” your hands don’t know where to go. They’re grabbing Miguel, they’re falling next to your head, they’re grabbing at your breasts as Miguel jerks your body.
Miguel goes to open your jaw, lips pulling on your tongue to suck. It’s tender and sensual compared to the way his balls are slapping against you. There’s a ring of white on his shaft getting thicker and thicker as he continues.
“Pretty thing,” he says as he lets your tongue go, a string of saliva falling to your neck. “Watched you on the cameras. Always.”
That stirs something in you, a spark in your chest as you see stars.
“Did you want to do this to me when you watched me?” you manage out.
“Yes.”
“I can put on a show for you next time.”
“Yes.”
“You can come in here. ‘N fuck me over the counter.”
“Sí, sí, baby,” his hands push your knees next to your head and he ruts against you. His thighs were straining as he took and took.
A yell pulls itself from your core, that burning feeling getting a crash of cold water. The dam bursts and you’re running all over Miguel, essence leaving every time he inches out and back in.
“Gonna fill you up,” he rasps, eyes glazed over.
You nod your head, clenching and pulsing around him.
His eyes don’t leave yours as he shudders against you. You suck him in, gaining a deep moan from him, “Así, bebé. Take it.”
It’s like you can finally think as his cum overflows, your heart rate finally slowing.
He stares at you as you both come back to reality. Your body is limp, the weight of Miguel making itself known.
“Holy shit,” you wiggle and he catches the hint. He lifts a bit and pulls out. The swirl of you two falls out of you in waves. “What. The fuck.”
“God,” Miguel mumbles. “No shocking way we just did that.”
“You can’t say that when the evidence is leaking out of me.”
Miguel groans as he watches you, your face pouty and your hole glistening. It was intoxicating.
His dick twitches, coming to life again the longer he watches.
“‘M sorry in advance,” he says as he pulls you into his lap.
“Just take care of it, O’Hara.”
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The two of you sat in the middle of the floor, breathing hard. Pieces of consciousness were starting to come back.
“You looked stunning tonight,” Miguel said. He looked at your shredded dress on the floor. “I’m glad he won’t see you in that dress anymore.”
The snort that leaves your nose turns into a full-blown laugh.
“What’s so funny?”
“You just took my soul ten times over and you’re worried about a guy I just met less than a week ago. I fear I’m ruined for anyone else.”
“Oh,” he smiles. “Good.”
“You still should take me on a date. You’ve got a lot to explain.”
Flashes of him confessing to his habit of watching you from afar come back, “O-of course.”
“And you owe me a new dress.”
“On it.”
Lyla pops up next to you both, a blindfold over her shades, “Is it safe to talk to you guys now?”
Miguel checks his gizmo, “I think we’re good for about forty minutes. The effects are starting to wear off.”
“Excellent!” She throws the fabric to the side, “Oh my god, this room is a mess.”
You look at the array of substances over the room and grimace. The entire hall will have to be on lockdown.
“Well, I managed to vent out the solution. You two should be ok soon.”
You lean on Miguel’s chest and close your eyes, happy to hear good news.
“Kind of sad that this is what it took for you to confess, Miguel,” she comments.
“Lyla!”
You laugh again, “Some confession.”
“That’s enough,” Miguel scowls.
Your giggles die down as you pull yourself onto Miguel’s thigh, bubbles in your chest molding into moans as you start to grind over his thigh.
“I’m starting to think you guys are just bluffing,” Lyla gags before she disappears. “Let me know when you’re done.”
“I think,” you nuzzle into his neck, “this’ll be the last time. I’m tired.”
“If not, we can take it to my house.”
The world blurs again as you and Miguel connect under the white lights.
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Take a shot every time I say breath or breathe 😭. Anywho, as always, if you enjoyed, please like, reblog, and COMMENT!
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atrwriting · 1 year ago
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more, more, more — carmy x reader
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carmen berzatto x coworker!reader
listen to me. this man? this man?? so fucking slutty. so fucking slutty i can’t even think straight. i am absolutely AGHAST at how little writing there is of this man online. absolutely OUTRAGEOUS. he looks like that and none of us have done his character justice?? DISGRACEFUL.
i wrote this in direct response to how angry i am at how little there is.
as always, warnings… SMUT!, alcohol consumption, alcohol consumption with sex, smoking, p in v penetration, work relationships, overstimulation, carmen berzatto being an absolute mind blowing fuck on a table i mean in bed
also, minors fuck RIGHT the fuck off
barely edited we die like men
i stole that joke don’t come for me
anyway....
you didn’t really know how it happened.
you were once an unemployed law student, scared of drowning in bills, and eagerly awaiting a call back from anyone that would hire you — when she called.
natalie berzatto.
her voice was warm and comforting on the phone, and very eager to have you come in. she was relaying important information to you on the phone, and while you grabbed bits and pieces, it was hard to focus on anything else besides the sheer excitement of finally having a job. the job would be stressful, sure — but at least you wouldn’t be broke and stressed.
unfortunately, your first couple of shifts were a mess and a half. you took instructions well, and performed well, but in the hospitality business — that means nothing when an oven burner is out, a dishwasher doesn’t show up for a shift, richie starts barking, or when carmen’s upset.
carmen.
fucking carmen.
while soft spoken, there was nothing that could compare to the look of approval in his eye when you had completed a task to his standard. most people would consider the job of a hostess useless, or not a job at all — something to laugh at, but carmen? no. that man took your job very seriously, as he knew what it meant to provide the full experience to the customer.
however, when something was lacking in the kitchen and that experience was interrupted… carmen took the look of approval, almost gratefulness, away and replaced it with something that everyone felt like they had to walk around shards of glass.
when he was angry? oh, fuck… that could ruin anyone’s night.
the worst of it happened when his sister unexpectedly went into labor. two weeks early.
carmen had left the place screaming, and, in the process, had also left his things at the restaurant, including his jacket, wallet, keys, the lot — so to be nice you went to drop it off at his place. worried that he might be at the hospital, you texted him.
you: hey, going out for a drink. saw you forgot your stuff at the restaurant so i grabbed it because you’re otw. you home?
carmen: oh shit thanks. i’m home
so there you stood. at his front door, his stuff in hand.
you quickly adjusted your long hair, worried about your appearance. it was weird to show up to carmen’s place in your regular attire — seeing as though your regular attire on a night with your friends was black flare jeans, a tight black long sleeve v-neck that showed off your cleavage — you were concerned that he might be concerned with who he exactly employed. however, his niece was just born… he had more important things to worry about.
so you knocked.
and barely waited.
carmen was barely at the door a few seconds later before you came face to face with the man who constantly let exhaustion ride on his back.
“you good?” you immediately asked, handing over his stuff.
he nodded. “yeah, uh — thanks.”
“you look like you could use a drink,” you laughed. “want to come with?”
he shook his head, the corners of his lips somewhat curving upwards. “nah. day was hectic. you want one? come in — for a drink?”
you smiled. “i don’t want to intrude, especially after the berzatto family excitement of the day.”
“i owe you,” he sighed. “but don’t let me hold you up if your friends are waiting.”
you smiled. “one drink won’t hurt.”
one drink definitely did not hurt.
drink two and three definitely didn’t, either.
how much carmen made you laugh definitely made your stomach hurt, though. in a good way.
“you’re killing me,” you cackled. “who knew quiet carmen berzatto was such a good host.”
“you can call me carmy, y’know,” he spoke, saying his cigarette before pouring you another drink. “everyone else does.”
you shrugged. “you’re pretty professional in the kitchen. didn’t want to impose.”
“i don’t think you could impose a day in your life,” he chuckled. “i think you’re the only one that knows boundaries in that fuckin’ place.”
“says the mysterious one,” you giggled. “the only reason any of us know your nicknames is because richie likes to share your baby stories.”
“speaking of babies…” he took a drag. “thank you for helping sugar out so much. she told me to tell you how much she appreciates it.”
you shrugged. “‘s nothing.”
“nothing?” he scoffed. “you keep her sane. definitely keep me sane.”
“always got your back, chef,” you giggled.
he smiled, and ashed his cigarette once more. his long, thick fingers stretched around the circumference of his glass. one fingertip tapped against the glass and a few droplets of condensation fell to his countertop.
you were twisted around in your seat to face carmen, eyeing his attractive hands. in your peripheral vision, you saw him lift his head to cock it towards you and stare at you. the longing look sent shivers up your spine, but you gazed at him through your long lashes as you waited for his response.
“you do,” he spoke. “always have. we were lucky to find you. i - i was, i mean.”
“more like i was lucky get a call from natalie,” you laughed. “it’s so hard to find a well paying job nowadays.”
“heard,” he rasped. “you happy at the bear?”
“very,” you replied. “staff keeping you happy, chef?”
he chuckled. “when i’m not made to scream, yeah.”
“that’s fair. we’re lucky to have you.”
there was only so many things you could think of to say to carmen before you began to consider that you were imposing. you slapped your hands against your thighs — a implicit signal it was time for you to go. he led you to the door, where he reached out for your coat. you smiled at him, thanked him for the drink, and slid your arms through the jacket as he held it out for you.
you don’t know what caused you to, maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was you — or maybe it was how good carmen smelled — but you glanced up and over your shoulder at the polite man behind you.
you didn’t have anything to say. frankly, you said something last — it was his turn. however, carmen’s sense of societal expectations started and ended with the door to the kitchen. but there, by his front door? basically holding you by the shoulders, and staring back down at you? he had nothing to say.
however… his eyes could share a thousand things about him. more specifically, emotions. carmen’s eyes showed exhaustion, a bit of dehydration, to keep it a buck, but there was so much intensity in those crystal irises. they were a stunning, clear blue… but with the way carmen was gazing down at you, there appeared to be no clear thought in his head.
and he did nothing.
so you could do nothing.
you found yourself disappointed at his actions, or rather — lack thereof.
you simply smiled, and went to turn away. you reached for his door knob, when you felt the slightest brush of calloused fingers against the skin of your wrist. the feeling shocked you, pricking at your nerves, but you didn’t stop until you felt those fingers enclose around the circumference of your wrist.
like they had with the glass, moments ago.
you turned back, letting your long and thick eyelashes ghost over your line of sight. all you could see was a frozen chef, standing tired, but staring back at you.
when his gaze fell to the floor, you stepped closer. he glanced up.
you felt the heat rise to your cheeks as you softly asked, “what’s up, carmy?”
“first time i had someone over.” his parted lips closed so he could swallow, and his eyes drifted between your lips and the floor. the words were right there, on his tongue. they were so close you could feel them, taste them. he replied, “i, um… don’t want it to end, uh — i guess.”
you smiled and turned around in place, barely inches from his face. his breaths were pushing past his lips in small, light puffs that hit the tip of your chin. it was like he was conscious of everything he was emitting; his vibe, where he was looking, even his fucking exhales. he was cautious and frozen and all you wanted was for him to be relaxed, or as close to, as he was moments ago.
“already drank you out of house and home, carmy. what else you got in mind?”
his eyes widened, but his voice stayed level. “what else i got in mind?”
you hummed in agreement with a coy smile on your face. you folded your lip between your teeth and stepped backwards. carmy glanced at your hips and feet hesitantly, shifting his weight slightly. while his eyes were trained on you, his parted lips quivered slightly which told you that there was still some nervousness lingering in him. with every step you took, carmy took one as well. you kept stepping backwards, and carmy kept stepping forwards, until your back was pressed against the wall.
carmy’s lips weren’t slightly quivering anymore. there was no hesitation in his figure when he leaned down slightly and rested a flat palm against the drywall above your head. his breath was hitting you on both cheeks — as if they weren’t hot enough already. inside you were screaming. you were screaming, and screaming, and screaming and all you wanted to do was grab both sides of his face and smash your lips to his. you wanted to, but you wouldn’t. you wanted to see if he would.
“you know,” you spoke, raising your back. your cold palm pressed against his cheek. it was burning — almost as bad as yours. “even though you’re the boss… never seen you actually taste anything.”
“no?” he rasped. the gruffness in his voice pricked at your cheeks and went straight to your core. “and what do you want me to taste, sweetheart?”
you released your grip from his cheek and brought your hand down to your face. with a manicured nail, you tapped the plumpness of your bottom lip. you stared into his eyes — a dare.
“fuck.”
with his free hand, carmen wrapped your hand in his own and pressed it to the middle of his chest. he held it there, pressed against his heart, and surprisingly it was the exact spot you wanted to hold him. you wanted to hear — no, feel his heart that was beating slightly faster than normal. when carmen finally pressed his chapped lips against yours… you saw stars.
the alcohol coursing through your veins made you melt into the man before you. his hand on the wall slid down until he was rubbing the side of your neck, and then gripping the base of your skull. his fingers, his beautiful, skillful fingers threaded through your hair like it was one of his pieces of art and he was creating something. he twisted your strands until he had your head bent back, practically supported by the heavy palm of his hand. the motion made you gasp into his mouth. carmen swallowed it whole. every. last. bit.
“y’taste so fuckin’ sweet,” he moaned against your lips.
you hummed with him. the warmth of his body engulfed your body into his until the moment started and ended with carmen anthony berzatto. you could taste the liquor on his tongue that danced with your own. with every breath he took, bits of smoke would linger between the two of you. it went straight to your head, swallowing your senses whole. you didn’t know if it was the alcohol, the cigarettes, or carmen himself, but you felt like you were swimming.
“this okay, sweetheart?” he asked, pulling away for a second. a thumb of his stroked the skin of your cheek as he stared at you, waiting for feelings of regret from you. “d-do you want me to stop?”
“please don’t stop, carmy,” you gasped, pulling him back into. “you’re perfect.”
you didn’t expect that would make carmen slide his hands down your body and grasp the back of your thighs. his fingertips pressed into your skin, pulling your legs up and around his waist. you squealed against his teeth and couldn’t believe you had found yourself in this situation.
it’s not that carmen wasn’t handsome, no. the man was drop dead gorgeous in a tortured artist way, and you always had a thing for men that looked like they needed a hug but wouldn’t admit it. but… he was your boss.
what could you do about that? it’s not like you could stop now. even if you had told him to stop, got your shit and left — the damage was done. you both had crossed the boundaries, and you were going to reap what you sewed.
in that case… might as well have a little fun with it.
he had placed you on a neighboring table. his large hands gripped the flesh of your thighs and you couldn’t help but whine into his embrace. his tongue glided over your lips and teeth and with your tongue in the messiest way possible and all you could chant in your head was more, more, more.
and that’s when you found yourself pulling at the bottom of his t-shirt.
he stepped back slightly, throwing his shirt over his head. his swollen lips were parted, and his eyes searched your face. you found your chest rising and falling with anticipation, and realized you should’ve been more concerned with how he was dealing with all of this.
“you okay, carmy?” you whispered.
he nodded, letting a few fingertips of his ghost over the skin of your cheek. his crystal eyes glanced down to your lips.
“we can stop, you know,” you whispered again. “it’s okay.”
he nodded again before dipping his head down to the side of your neck. his plump lips left wet kisses on the sensitive skin and you moaned into the open air. you widened the space between your knees, allowing for carmen to wedge himself between your thighs.
“you’re always talking such good care of me, sweetheart, so good to me,” he rasped against your throat, sucking on the skin. “but all i want to do right now is have my fingers inside you. y’gonna let me?”
“yes, carmy,” you whined. “yes please.”
“such a polite girl f’me.” carmy’s mouth was attacking your throat. moans escaped passed your lips like carmy was squeezing them from you, claiming them. his fingers traveled down the front of your clothes and stopped at the button of your jeans. sliding it open, carmen berzatto slipped his perfect hands into your jeans.
“right there, please,” you gasped once his fingers found your bundle of nerves.
his fingers dipped into your core and spread it all over where you needed him most. warmth began to spread through your hips and your knees widened for him. his drew circles different ways until he noticed that when he drew counterclockwise circles, you bit your lip and your eyes appeared to involuntarily flutter shut. you felt carmy smirk against the skin of your neck.
“what made you this wet, baby?” he hummed, sucking at the base of your throat.
“you, carmy,” you whined. “felt it as soon as i saw you when i first walked in. needed you so badly.”
he smirked again. “so bringing my things wasn’t of the purest intentions?”
heat rose to your cheeks with the sensual actions that were taking place below the belt and carmy’s accusation. you grew worried at what he would say if you said no, that you honestly just wanted to help him out… but if carmy wanted to play like that, you could play.
“n-no,” you whined as the pleasure began to spread throughout your whole body.
carmy was holding you so close to him. it was like he was your support — supporting you through such a physically vulnerable moment. your legs were practically shaking at this point, trying to take everything he was giving you and not start sobbing. you were grabbing at any piece of him you, wanting to kiss him — but he wouldn’t let you. fucking bastard.
“good,” he stated, staring you dead in the eyes. your mouth fell open at his response, a pant pushing passed your lips. “i don’t have the purest of intentions when i do this.”
carmen berzatto slid two long, thick fingers inside you ever so slowly. the motion pulled small moans out of you like you were a pathetic mess of a puddle and the sun rose and set with him. you felt his fingertips press against the upper wall inside you, while another finger worked at your clit, and all you could do was hold onto him tighter.
“it feels so good, carmy,” you whined. “i love your fingers so, so much.”
“yeah, baby?” he breathed against your ear. “you wanna cum f’me?”
“faster, please, i will,” you sobbed. you fucking sobbed as the tapping motion inside you hastened. “oh god — oh my fucking god —“
“that’s it, sweetheart? that’s what you needed?”
“yes, yes — fucking — fuck — yes.”
“f-fuck —“ he groaned broken, incoherent phrases against your throat. his breath was hot and heavy on your skin and all you could think about was how good he felt inside of you, and also how badly you wanted all of him inside you. interrupting your thoughts, he spoke, “show me how good it feels, baby. finish all over my fingers f’me.”
that broke you.
that fucking broke you.
it was like a shock of lightning hit you straight in your core and the power from the strike spread throughout your entire body. every muscle of yours went taut as you arched your chest into carmy’s.
with his expert hands, he fucked you through the orgasm. “that’s it, baby. that’s it. keep cumming for me.”
it was like carmen berzatto knew everything to say to make you shatter. you couldn’t even breathe — all you could do was give into the spreading feeling of bliss and hold your breath while it washed over you. it was wave, after wave, after wave of mind-numbing orgasm and carmen held you through all of it.
“pretty girl.”
“i know, baby. you’re such a sweet girl f’me.”
“that’s it, sweetheart. take it.”
once the waves finished hitting you, your chest was rising and falling heavily. carmen peppered light kisses along your neck, being gentle as to your state, but you were having none of it. you reached for his belt.
“greedy.”
you smiled lazily at him. “any objections, chef?”
he smirked at you, letting his fingers ghost over your sensitive core. a shiver ran up and down your spine at the almost painful action. “be careful — or i’ll make you cum again.”
you knew he wasn’t joking. you let out a slight giggle before you dragged the zipper and his boxers down. freeing his cock, you pumped his shaft.
carmy was once dominantly kissing your neck and whispering mean things in your ear, but now he was using the crook of your neck to support his forehead.
“you have such a pretty cock, carmy,” you whispered in his ear. there was something so comforting about being intimate with a man where you both could be vulnerable, and you weren’t sure if you would ever let it go. you want him everywhere he would let you have him. “i don’t know if i want it in my mouth or inside me more.”
he chuckled at that, crooning back into your embrace when you would touch a very sensitive part of him. “dirty girl — you’re so fuckin’ evil.”
you were worried the friction was becoming too much for him, but you didn’t want to raise your hand to your own lips, so you swiped some of the juices from your core and used it to lubricate the skin of carmy’s cock. it was a quick motion — you didn’t think he’d notice, and plus his eyes were most likely closed.
but when he spoke, you froze.
“do-do that again.” his voice was rough with lust. “do that again for me.”
you were hesitant at first, but you decided to make a show of it. you slowly dragged two fingers up the length of your slit and rubbed a very slow circle around the circumference of your clit. you gasped at the sensitivity, slightly jumping at the touch.
“fuck, that’s hot,” he groaned, breath humid on your neck.
you smirked at his response and reached for his cock. your hand slipped along the smooth skin of his cock, drawing a deep groan from carmen. the poor man was so sensitive — almost aching from what giving everything he had to you previously felt like.
“so big, carmy,” you breathed. “so big and pretty.”
“y’know what would be prettier?” he asked, pressing a kiss to your jaw line. “watching you put it inside you. can you do that, baby?
you smiled at him devilishly. carmy’s hands shoved the rest of your jeans down your legs and flung them somewhere in the room. your pussy was aching — dripping for the man before you. the sensitivity had left you, no longer prickling at your nerve endings. all that was left was the want for more — anything carmy had to give you.
“please,” you whined, rubbing the head of his cock against your glistening folds.
“i love when you beg f’me,” he groaned. “such a good fuckin’ girl.”
both of your lines of sight drifted down to the view of your hips. you both watched in awe as you lined carmy up with your entrance as he pushed his hips towards you.
the throws of passion and want for carmy were intense, sure — but so was the want to enjoy this while he could. he pushed in the tip of his cock, groaning slightly as your tight hole encased him. you whines at the barely filled feeling — so empty, needing more. carmy, however? carmy didn’t care. he wanted to feel every push and pull of your muscles between your hips.
carmy kept his eyes turned down at your pussy and you swallowed more and more of him inside you. he gripped the flesh of your waist, fingertips digging into you. your own hands were splayed our flat against the cool countertop of the table — a direct juxtaposition of the boiling feeling that electrified the top of every inch of your skin. you whined as carmy took his time with his thrusts, pulling back every so often when he felt resistance, and then pushing back in ever so slightly, yet slightly farther, each time.
“please, more,” you gasped, folding your lip between your teeth. “i want all of you.”
“baby isn’t patient, huh?” he asked, continuing with his motions. “gotta have it all, when you want it?”
“i can’t be teased right now,” you sobbed. it was pathetic how needy you were, but fucking christ did it turn carmy on.
“this what you want, baby?” he asked, pushing into you deeper.
your walls were squeezing him like he was the only thing that existed to you. the burn at your entrance was something so bittersweet, something so delicious — you didn’t know how you were going to keep control and make this special for him as well, let alone how you weren’t going to cum right then. but you didn’t care — you didn’t have the strength to care.
“yes, carmy — please,” you begged, bucking your hips into him weakly. “fuck — your cock feels so good.”
“yeah, baby?” he pressed into deeper. “so impatient you can’t handle it slow?”
“i want you to fuck me, carm,” you bit with lust dripping from every word. “fuck me — use me however you want — please.”
fuck.
that set him off.
carmy was a patient and low maintenance man, sure, out of necessity and convenience mostly. however, when he had the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, with a dirty mouth to match, talking back to him, and begging him to be selfish?
fuck patience. fuck ease. and fuck being selfless.
carmen’s grip tightened on your waist, and he pushed the last parts of his cock inside you.
it immediately hit you right where you needed him — that soft, sensitive spot so deep that barely anyone before him could dream of reaching. your walls gripped the smooth skin of his cock and you screamed. you fucking wailed when he finally pounded into you painfully, but so fucking sweetly.
“dirty — fucking — girl,” he grunted, thrusting upwards into your pussy.
there was nothing like the sight of carmy finally taking what he wanted. no expression of shame, or guilt, or hesitation on his face — just a man, slightly bent over before you, inside of you, holding you so close to him because, in that moment, you could give him what he wanted — needed. and, in that moment, all he needed was you.
the side of his face was pressed against yours, breathing heavily into your ear. the few groans he let escape his throat were guttural — almost animalistic. they went straight to your core, practically flooding around his cock. your whines of pleasure forced his hips forward and back faster and harder with each motion. balancing your weight and carmy’s with a firm hand of yours behind you on the table, you clamped your free hand on the back of his neck. you twisted a few stray strands of his hair around your fingers, tugging at them. every thrust caused you to pull his hair, him, closer and harder into you.
“laythefuckdown,” he spat, to your surprise.
the command startled you, sure — but it also made you bite your lip in anticipation. he pressed a wet, heavy kiss to your cheek, throwing butterflies in your lower stomach, as you released him. before you could lay down, he stopped you.
“you want to give me what i want, baby?” he whispered against your lips.
you nodded, gazing at him with dark, lust filled eyes.
“then i want your pussy to finish around my cock,” he stated. “think you can do that f’me?”
“y-yeah,” you replied, shakily, but full of trust.
you laid down and carmy regained his footing at the end of the table, keeping his cock pressed firmly inside you as he stood above you. his cock twitched against your most sensitive spot inside you, and you whined at the new angle. he gripped one of your hips firmly, but let his other hand ghost up your glistening lips.
“such a pretty fucking pussy,” he rasped, gazing at it. “takes my cock so well. but right here…”
he pressed his thumb against your clit.
you would’ve jumped if his hand wasn’t keeping you locked to the table.
“this is what i want,” he spat. “so fucking pretty.”
he began rubbing rough, fast circles on your clit. your legs were shaking from the overstimulation, and you thought you could cry from the sensation. your back arched off the table, and your hands struggled to find something to grip — to balance you as carmy tortured you.
but then his cock started working itself back into you again, hitting that spot that needed him so badly.
“think you can cum like this, baby?” he asked, taunting you. “be a good girl for me, yeah?”
“yes — !” you groaned, reaching for the end of the table with one hand. grabbing it, you tried to steady yourself, but it was no use. not with carmy. “fuck — it’s so much — it’s too much carmy —“
“gonna cum for me, sweetheart?”
you threw your head up to stare at the man. he was rocking into you like that was the only thing he knew, fucking you like it was the only thing he wanted, but there was so much focus on his eyes. so much focus on you.
“gonna give me what i want?”
“yes, yes,” you were nodding your head so pathetically, so sweetly for him. tears were practically threatening to spill over the corners of your eyes, but they glistened at him, and only him, and god did it fuck with him. “please, carmy — let me cum for you.”
“do it,” he ordered. “fuck, baby — cum for me.”
your hips were bucking against his pelvis and his hand, too erratic for him to be precise like he wanted to. you were chasing his fingertips, chasing the orgasm that even in his selfish state he was so generous to give. whines left your throat involuntarily as the intensity in your lower abdomen grew, and grew, and grew. your eyes were screwed shut as you pushed yourself to your elbows, holding yourself up as you couldn’t help but curl into yourself. carmen may have been looking at you, or something else — it didn’t matter. all you saw was the black of your eyelids, until is was white.
white. pure white.
your finger nails dug into the meat of your palms as the heat spread from your womb to the entirety of your body. every nerve ending and hair rose to the highest point of height they could, and you held your breath. the feeling of immense pleasured you washed over you — wave after wave, after wave, after wave. it hit you, it crashed into you, it fucking drowned you — it swallowed you whole until you were gasping for air. your orgasm was violent — practically mine splitting. you were shaking. you were sensitive beyond belief, beyond repair — and the prickling feeling wouldn’t stop. you were gasping for air as you looked down, only to find carmy’s hand still working between your thigh.
still rubbing those fucking circles.
“c-carmy,” you sputtered, tears wet in the corner of your eye. “please — i c-can’t.”
“shhh,” he whispered. “just keep cumming, baby. just keep cumming for me.”
your chest split open at that, throwing you back against the table top. shivers went up and down your spine as you took carmy’s torture.
“that’s it, baby. that’s it.”
his words were music to your ears as you screamed for him.
“ohh, fucking shit — that’s it —“ he hissed. “just like that. take it all for me — oh, fuck.”
you were dazed and confused on carmy’s table, basically seeing stars. absolutely useless, fucked out beyond words. you felt the weight and warmth of carmy’s body lean over, and rest against yours, as his hips sloppily rocked into you.
you wrapped your legs around the middle of carmy’s back, locking him in place. one hand went to clamp on the back of his head, and the other pressed against the side of his cheek.
against his lips, you whispered, “cum for me, carmy, please. i want to feel you inside of me.”
“good — fucking —“ he grunted, pressing his lips to yours in a farm, hard kiss as he shook. carmy’s tongue shoved itself into your mouth, and down your throat. carmy was everywhere — so deep in every part of you. you hummed with each moan of his you swallowed, rocking your hips against his and rocking him through his orgasm. gasps left his lips as he gripped any part of you he could, doing anything he could to hold onto you and keep you in place.
“holy f-fucking shit,” he gasped against your cheek, pressing kisses to your cheek and the length of your neck. “that — that was — it was so —“
“i know,” you spoke, giggling slightly.
carmy laid his head against your collarbone and you weaved his wet curls around your fingers. he rested fully against you, completely relaxed.
“fuck your friends,” he mumbled. “stay here tonight — as long as, um — you want to, that is.”
your giggle hummed in your chest. carmy’s confidence leaving him in the middle of the sentence surprised you slightly, but not enough to leave you unamused. “‘m not imposin’?”
he chuckled at that, and pulled you up from the table and into his arms. "fuck off."
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lmk what you think :) love yall -L
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izvmimi · 3 months ago
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cw: teacher!prohero!izuku and prohero!reader with a healing quirk. accidental injury of a student. mostly just banter.
Izuku can sense your annoyance from the door but walks in anyway to the UA nurse’s office, thirty minutes after the close of classes for the day, as is your arrangement any time you work part-time at the school. (He’d argue that it’s an unnecessary precaution because he talks about you enough that his kids are well aware and quite partial to your relationship, but you can’t help the embarrassment when you’re spotted by his unofficial student fanclub.)
You’re still typing up today’s documentation from the kids you saw today - more than usual given the nature of today’s training exercise - and when he approaches, closing the door before carefully offering you a kiss on the cheek from behind, you turn to him with narrowed eyes and he knows he’s in for it.
“Sit.”
He sighs, dropping himself onto the nearest made bed and folds his hands in his lap. You type the last of your notes and save them, then swivel around in your chair. Once your eyes meet, he’s pouting, and part of you immediately wants to pull back, but stubborn as you are, you persist with your less than satisfied glare, crossing your arms over your chest.
“Hey, there was no way for me to know that kid would pull such a desperate move!” Izuku immediately defends himself animatedly. “We gave them clear instructions to either flee or fight, and they should know better not to fight a pro, and I truly did not mean to hold on that tight, plus it’s not like I don’t feel bad, I felt terrible! But the villains will not feel terrible for one second so it’s not like it’s a bad lesson to learn-”
Your hand goes up to motion dramatically for him to save it and Izuku stops immediately, then sighs again, before letting his body hang back and rest on the bed. You don’t nag that often, but when you do, it’s incessant and worse because you’re often right the whole way through. 
The move in question had happened during the classic 2 student vs 1 teacher fight, an event you remember clearly yourself from your days at UA and weren’t particularly a fan of. The kids, understandably, were excited to go up against their teachers and this iteration would include Pro Heroes from the golden class of yore, 1A, as substitute teachers and thus was quite the event. Naturally, this was a good day for you to substitute as a school nurse as well.
One of the students had tried to make a sudden dash for it on the left side while trying to escape Izuku’s grip on their arm, and Izuku, slightly distracted while prompting the other terrified student to think carefully about their next move, had not budged or known to let go, which led to a prompt shoulder dislocation.
In the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t terrible. Izuku let go immediately at the kid’s shriek, the other proctors had rushed in to bring the kid to you, but you weren’t enthused by the situation, not one bit. 
“You know, I expected this sort of nonsense from Bakugou, but you?”
Izuku nods, then becomes pensive as he rubs his chin with his hands. “To be honest, I’m quite impressed with the fact that not one of his opponents got singed more than a hair, but I also think his kids employed a far better strategy than mine, considering that they seemed to suggest they were going to fight upfront and then immediately feinted into an escape that fooled him - that being said I think part of that might have been Kacchan’s assumption that the kids would try to fight him to prove themselves and that worked to their advantage, but notwithstanding the fact that he was quite careful with them and chose a far less physical approach, although-”
You’re up on your feet, pulling on both of his cheeks before he can keep talking.
“The point here is not to be praising ‘Kacchan’, it’s that you HAVE to be more careful with these kids! What if they’d lost that arm?!”
He pouts again, and the second time works and you unwittingly soften.
As much as you’re conservative about injury, this is a Hero school, the same place where Izuku practically lost the use of his own arms out of his own recklessness time and time again while on campus. Sitting down on the edge of the bed beside him finally, you let out a sigh that’s only partially defeated.
He won’t call you too sensitive, but the truth is you are. 
“I’ll be more careful next time,” he promises you. “It’s still a learning environment and the kids should be safe no matter what.” With that, he reaches for your hand, then presses the back to his lips which brings a smile to your face.
You exhale.
“Do you remember when you and Katsuki fought All Might?”
Izuku blinks for a moment as recollection bubbles into his subconscious.
“Oh, yes.”
“That day I was so upset but I don’t think anyone could tell,” you say to him. You’re both laid back now, staring at the ceiling and as your hands remain interlaced, you’re transported back to high school.
He chuckles.
“Why? Because I was getting my butt kicked?” 
You laugh under your breath.
“All I could think of was ‘why is a practical god fighting us, we’re just kids?’”
Izuku laughs harder this time, then turns to face you. Cupping a hand on your face, he leans in and whispers,
“Do you think we’re the gods now?”
There’s a hint of amusement, but also the faintest whiff of melancholy, easily missed if not for the fact that you’ve watched him so carefully all these years.
You can hear the effect of slow near complete recovery of a Quirk, several Quirks, that were once much too much to bear, the far too heavy weight once on his shoulders, relieved now by the help of friends and loved ones, emotional scars that have healed over but run deeper than the ones your fingertips slowly glide over whenever you hold him close.
“I like being human, personally,” you whisper back. There’s a wistfulness in his green eyes as he takes your statement to heart.
“Me too.”
He kisses your forehead, then the two of you quickly remember where you are, then rise to your feet.
“Let’s go now?” he asks, swinging your work bag over his shoulder and reaching his hand out for yours.
You take it gingerly and he raises an eyebrow.
“Gotta make sure I don’t make any sudden moves, you know,” you tease, and he scrunches his eyebrows at you.
“Mean.”
You stick your tongue out at him, and he laughs as you leave the campus grounds to make it home together.
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luveline · 3 months ago
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jade! i’d love to see anything with eddie and roan <3 i miss my man and my child
eddie and roan | ty for requesting <3
“Get lost.” 
“You get lost, you weirdo.” 
“I’m serious, go play somewhere else.” 
Steve frowns, shaking the fist of his Barbie at Eddie in outrage. “This is supposed to be a playdate. You can’t just boss me around.” 
“No, this is dinner. You were invited over for dinner.” 
“And Roan employed me to build some deep backstory for her characters!” 
Roan sits in your lap at the dinner table, nowhere near their playing. She has cracker crumbs falling from her mouth as she asks, “Wait, are they talking about me?” 
“Don’t think so,” Robin says, a butter knife in hand. She spreads thick, salty butter from one corner of a cracker to the other, cheddar dust falling from it like orange snow. 
You’re pleasantly surprised when she hands it to you. 
“I’m trying to get these sweet ladies dressed and you’re messing up their outfits,” Eddie says. 
“I’m not messing them up, they just look stupid when you dress them.” 
“I know how they looked in the box, okay? I should. I paid for them.” 
“That’s not true. I bought this one.” Steve holds up a Barbie with a flight attendant’s outfit on. 
“And I bought the bug scientist one!” you add from your seat. Like with Roan, cracker crumbs try their hardest to fall down your shirt. A Metallica one, Eddie’s influence. 
“I know how they look,” Eddie affirms. 
“So what? They’re toys, you don’t have to dress them up like they came in the box. Roan, can you please do me a big huge favour and tell your daddy he’s being too strict with me?” 
Steve’s pouts at her, but Eddie’s daughter is loyal to her father. “Daddy always dresses them the best, sorry,” Roan says. 
“My angel,” Eddie says, a mutter, distracted by a Barbie where he wrestles a coat over plastic arms. “Thanks, baby.” 
She licks her fingertip. “Y’welcome.” 
You squeeze your arms around her waist and steal a slice of cheese from the paper plate in front of her. 
“Don’t let him draw you into their fighting. Anyone would think they’re the kids,” Robin says. 
“I resent that!” Eddie says, as Steve calls, “Shut it, Buckley, nobody asked you!” 
“I asked, Aunt Robin,” Roan says. 
The boys tussle over a pair of plastic shoes. Robin just sighs, like she’s seen it a hundred times before. “Thank you, Ro. I hate when they do this.” 
You’re enjoying it, but maybe the novelty wears off. 
“Babe?” Eddie calls. 
“Yeah?” Steve asks. 
“Fuck off a second. Sweetheart?” 
“Yeah?” you ask. 
“Can you get that plate of cheese out for Roan, please?” 
You snort and grab another cracker from the tub. “What does he think I’m doing?” you ask Roan in a whisper. “What, I’m just sitting here watching him play with your dollies?” 
“He’s silly,” Roan whispers back, giggling. 
A pink high heel the size of your fingernail pings off the side of Eddie’s head. “Can you pay attention to me? I’m trying to get her ready for the catwalk and you’re not helping.” 
“I don’t know,” you say, shrugging with a smile. They seem like they’re actually having fun, under their exaggerated spats. “It looks like a good time.” 
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dxckgrxsonx · 1 year ago
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Just be Quiet
Pairing - Dick Grayson x (F) Reader
Words - 0.6k
Warnings - SMUT 18+ - Graphic Sexual Content - Mean!Dick - Forced Quiet Sex - Kinda Public Sex - A little bit of Name Calling (Disgusting, Pathetic, Crybaby) - Crying - Swearing
Notes - Um hi. Let's ignore the fact I was supposed to post this last week. I drank a little too much wine, passed tf out, and then work kicked my whole ass. I simply do not vibe with being employed smh.
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MASTERLIST
**
“Be quiet.” Dick snaps, his voice bordering on the lethal edge of an order and not a request. Your skin positively bristles when he shoves his hand over your mouth to muffle the desperate, involuntary noises escaping from between your chattering teeth and he growls, thoroughly fed up with your shit. “Shut your fucking mouth.”
Your thighs tremble, trapped between Dick’s firm, unyielding body and the wall. He snaps his hips forwards, forcing the full length of him into your weeping cunt with one stroke and your eyes roll straight back into your skull, body shuddering through the stretch.
“Don’t you make a fuckin’ sound.” He demands when you inhale, words vibrating in your throat, chest aching with how much you want to moan and whimper. Forcing your thighs wider with his knee he drags his cock almost all the way out before sinking back into your soaked pussy. “You just can’t help yourself, can you? I tell you not to make a sound and here you are, whining through my fingers like a brat.”
You didn't even notice you were moaning and keening and whimpering loud enough for him to hear–but you are–and it makes Dick ground out your name in a low, dangerous snarl.
It's a warning.
“I can’t fuck–I can’t help it!” You try, nearly in tears from the effort it takes to stay quiet for him. Your words are muffled against his palm and a particularly harsh thrust has you gasping his name, a long, drawn out whine chasing. “S’too good.”
Dick kisses the back of your neck then moves so he can speak directly into your ear.
“Yes you can. You’re just doing this on purpose to piss me off. Why won’t you be fucking quiet?!” Fucking into you at a rougher pace you can’t stop the desperate little noises from slipping through his fingers. “It’s almost like you want people to know I’m fucking you. Is that what it is? You want everyone to know you’re a desperate whore who likes being fucked where anyone could see you? You’re disgusting.”
Your body tries to flinch away from his punishing pace but Dick tuts disapprovingly and presses you even more firmly against the wall with his strong hips; forcing you to take every rough stroke and scathing comment from his smart mouth. He nudges your thighs apart again when you try to close them and your pussy throbs and creams against the base of his cock in desperation.
Dick scrapes the blunt edges of his teeth against your neck and you can feel the smirk pressing at his lips.
“I can feel you squeezin’ at me.” He says, sinking balls deep into your cunt and stopping just to feel you convulse around him. “You like being fucked by your Team Leader, huh? With the way you act, it’s no surprise you like this. What? You think I don’t notice. You’re more pathetic than I thought.”
Moaning into his hand you blink against the onslaught of tears and Dick feels them slide warm over the backs of his knuckles.
Your pussy is aching.
“Oh fuck. Are you crying right now?” He grunts, cock swelling and twitching inside you. “I can’t believe how sensitive you are.”
“Please!” You beg, sniffling and trying to stop yourself from crying. “Dick–plea–stop being so mean to me.”
“No.” He replies, pressing his hand over your mouth even harder so every word is barely audible. “We’re not stopping until you’re dripping with my come. And you better be fucking silent, do you hear me? My poor little crybaby. I want you to be a good girl for once and shut the fuck up because if you think I'm being mean to you now, you're in for a shock if you can't follow simple orders.”
**
The post that inspired this is -
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suugarbabe · 4 months ago
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drunken daydreams | s.b. x reader
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word count: 2.5k
warnings: mentions of drinking, pining, fluff
a/n: little fun fact i found out, beer pong was invented in the 1950's?? also this is for week three of jinxed july <3
Hopeless. That is what it felt like to crush on Sirius Black. Hopeless because Sirius was, well…everything. He was charming beyond belief, even professors falling for his half turned smile and cheeky winks. He was absolutely gorgeous, unfairly so really, onyx hair that fell in messy tendrils no matter how many times he ran his ring glad fingers through it. His eyes were always playfully full of mischief, but if you truly paid attention to him (and you did) you could tell that they shifted just the slightest bit in shade depending on his mood. His mouth seemed to permanently be painted with a smirk unless someone was telling him ‘no’, then his powder pink lips would puff in a pout and who in their right mind could deny that look? (certainly not you). 
When Lily asked you to spend a week at James’s family cabin with her over summer holiday you had originally said no. James’s cabin meant Sirius’s cabin since the latter now lived with the former; that and they were attached at the hip with no hope of prying them apart. Lily had pouted, begging you to say yes, but going only seemed like torture. Torture because it’d be a week essentially alone with Sirius as Lily and James would likely frequently find couple things to do, Marlene and Dorcus would be hiking everyday and Remus would seclude himself with ‘peace and quite for once’. Alone time with Sirius made you nervous because you were nearly, practically, almost one hundred percent sure that your feelings toward Sirius were not reciprocated. 
But that did not stop Lily from employing the raven haired boy to get you to change your mind. Which is how you found yourself conveniently alone with Sirius in the train compartment on the ride back from Hogwarts. “Pretty please, you can’t not go, everyone’s going,” in classic fashion with his little pout and his eyes widened. You tried to avert your gaze from his, knowing if you looked too long you’d give in. But this tactic failed miserably as Sirius simply moved back into your view, “I’m literally begging here, love,” and oh how he looked so pretty begging. “Please say yes, I cannot hear James or Lils complain the whole week. I need you there.”
He needed you there. That’s what he had said. And that one phrase spun a slew of delusional scenarios in your mind that led you to agree to join the rest of the group for the week. 
It wasn’t as bad as you originally anticipated in the beginning. The lot of you gathered at the Potter’s manor, utilizing the floo system for the trip to the cabin, that experience going surprisingly swimmingly for it being your first time. The first night at the cabin you guys decided on a bonfire. “It’s like christening the place,” James had said, with much encouragement from Sirius and much to the eye roll of Remus. “We’ll go get drinks started!” Lily grabbed your arm, pulling you up from your chair and back towards the door of the cabin, “any requests or all we good with surprises?” 
James Dorcus and Remus laid out drink orders while Marlene said you could surprise her. You turned to Sirius as he spoke next, “You know my drink, don’t you love?” You bit the inside of your cheek, hoping the heat you felt wasn’t making itself prominent as a blush on your cheeks, “Firewhiskey with cola, right?” Sirius winked, nodding in confirmation and the swarm of butterflies in your stomach started humming. 
Back in the kitchen Lily was practically vibrating with excitement. You let out a long sigh, “Something got you worked up Lils? Wanna share with the class?” Lily wore a small grin as she filled all the glasses with ice, “I’m just thinking about what I saw and if you saw it too.” You halted in filling Sirius's glass, resting both hands on the counter in front of you, “What do you think you saw? Because James’s googly eyes over you is basically a daily occurrence, I didn’t think it’d have you this excited still.” Lily rolled her eyes at your statement, “I’m very clearly talking about Sirius and you.” 
You made a scrunched face at this, “There’s nothing between me and Sirius. Well, like we’re friends, obviously, but you know there’s nothing more.” Lily shrugged, a slight curl to her lips as she continued making drinks. “Lils, please. He doesn’t like me like that. It would never happen and honestly…” you grabbed a few glasses in your hands, “I’m coming to terms with that.” You were not coming to terms with it. But it would be far easier than having all your friends thinking you’re hopelessly pining after him. What doesn’t help is Lily’s next response, “I dunno, babes. I could see the two of you together.” She slid the back door open with her elbow before walking back onto the deck, calling out that drinks were ready.
That one comment had you reeling, overanalyzing every interaction and conversation you had ever had with Sirius. You barely even registered that he spoke to you when you handed him his drink before taking your seat in the lawn chair next to his. You glanced his way when you felt his stare after a moment, “Sorry, Siri, did you say something?” Sirius smiled sweetly at you, a hint of something you couldn’t read in his eyes, “Just a thanks for the drink, love.” The commonplace pet name had your cheeks aflame but you prayed to Merlin the light of the bonfire hid the evidence. 
As the night went on and the drinks flowed, everyone was eventually corralled inside for what James called a “mandatory game of beer pong” after Lily agreed to play (and be his partner) with the promise that everyone would play ‘the muggle way’, no use of magic for assistance. Everyone agreed and placed their wands on the counter and paired up, you finding yourself partnered with Sirius. Remus stated he would be the officiant to “help keep Sirius and James in line and following the rules” much to their promises to play cleanly. “Ready, partner?” Sirius called you up to the table, dropping the ping pong ball in one of the cups closest to him. You nodded, a tight lip smile on your lips to try and help hide the nerves that were brewing inside. 
You looked across the table at Lily and James, the red head trying to conceal her smirk as she looked from you to Sirius and back. You rolled your eyes with a slight smile before Sirius started smack talking James. “Oh you’re in for it now, Potter. You and your little Lilly flower are cute and all, but you’re no match for me and y/n/n here, isn’t that right, love?” Sirius held his hand out palm up, clearly waiting for you to slap it. You gave him a high five and a small nervous laugh, “Y-yeah, right.” 
To your surprise Sirius was actually correct; James and Lily were horrible at beer pong, but you and Sirius looked like seasoned champions. The game against them went rather quickly, James sulking against Lilly on the couch as Marlene and Dorcus re-racked the red cups. This game proved to be a little more difficult, the girls being able to really go toe to toe with you and Sirius, you were down to two cups left to sink, while Marlene and Dorcus only had three cups. Marlene stood tall at the end of the table, ping pong ball in hand. She closed one eye, Dorcus semi-slurring encouragements to her before Marlene gave the ball a light toss. 
You watched as the ball arched in the air coming down towards one of the last three cups. The ball began the swirl around the rim of the cup and your next actions were more on instinct than real knowledge or skill of the game. You bent down near the cup, giving a quick blow of air near the ball before watching the physics of the combination making the ball jump from the cup and land back onto the table. Sirius let out a gleeful noise of shock, whereas Marlene and Dorcas began protesting, “Hey! We said no magic! Remus, that’s a foul we get that cup right?!” Sirius, however, was quick to go to your defense, “Nuh-uh, there was no magic involved, that’s just how good y/n/n’s blowing abilities are!” 
Your eyes widened in shock at his words, Dorcas rattling off a teasing remark before Sirius could correct himself, “Oh? And how would you know about her blowing abilities, Black?” The drinks were getting to you slightly, a small giggle bubbling from your throat as Sirius tried his best to defend himself, “I, well…erm, that’s not what I meant…I-I mean,” he turned to face you, his eyes half lidded as they made contact with yours, “Don’t you look at me like that, love.” A lazy smile adorned your face, “I’m not looking at you any kind of way, Siri.” 
Sirius shook his head in disagreement, “You’re giving me those eyes.” You batted your eyelashes a few times, “I’m not giving you any special eyes. Besides, if you’re wanting to know about my abilities, you can just tell me.” Sirius’s eyes widened before he let out a huff of air through his nose, “No, I don’t, I want to- I mean, you did the, the thing- and then Dorcus said what she said and so I just - I, erm, n-no I’m good.” While you laughed a little at his stumbling, you couldn’t deny the pit growing in your stomach the longer he tried to find nice ways to essentially reject your playful advance. 
Luckily you didn’t have to hide your dejection for long as you and Sirius lost to the girls and now your solemn look could be explained by the loss of the game instead of the loss of any chance you had with Sirius. You gave him a half-hearted smile before going to find a seat on one of the couches as James and Lily went to play against the winners. You only half paid attention the game, every interaction with Sirius from the night playing back over and over in your mind. Why did he have to be so bloody hard to read? 
To even get you on this trip in the first place he said he needed you there. But you don’t speak two words to each other in any capacity until everyone arrived at James’s manor. Even there it was only long glances, which could have been strictly initiated by you. Although you could have sworn he was already looking your way one or two times when you made eye contact. Here at the cabin you knew his drink, because of course you did. Was he teasing you earlier when he asked?
But he also winked at you. And he’s been calling you love, and made that comment about your ‘blowing skills’. But he does make dirty jokes a lot. You really would be a perfect couple though, all of your friends told you so whenever you talked about him, sometimes even when you didn’t talk about him. People wouldn’t say that to you just to be mean to you, I mean, these were your best friends. But he also essentially rejected your flirtatious advances. Why was this so hard to- 
A ring clad hand was waving in front of your face causing you to blink several times before refocusing on the object of your delusional thoughts. Sirius had his ever present charming grin, a special glint in his hooded eyes, “Caught you daydreaming about me again, didn’t I, love?” Maybe it was the liquid courage, but the words came tumbling out of your mouth before you could stop them, “Don’t be mean, Sirius.” 
Sirius quirked an eyebrow, “What do you-” Rather ungracefully, you cut him off, “Just because you know I have a crush on you doesn’t mean you can tease me like everyone else does. It’s honestly humiliating enough.” Sirius’s once smirking features changed to that of confusion, “It’s humiliating to have a crush on me?” You groaned in frustration, covering your face with your hands before looking down at your feet, “Yes, Sirius, it’s humiliating to have a raging crush on someone that clearly has no interest or feelings toward me beyond platonic friendship.” 
The cool metal of his rings felt like ice against your flamed skin as he forced you to look at him, “Who said my feelings were strictly platonic?” You opened your mouth to respond before quickly closing it again. You sat up straighter then, Sirius’s hand dropping from your chin, “Well, you did, you said that. Back during the game, when Dorcus was teasing us and I asked if that’s what you wanted. You basically stumbled over a way to tell me you were uninterested in my advances.” 
His melodic laugh filled your ears. You were ready to smack him for being so rude before he started giving you a viable response. “Sweetheart…I wasn’t trying to reject you,” you looked up to meet his eyes once more as he continued, “I responded that way because you had me flustered, you…kind of always make me feel that way.” He scratched the back of his head nervously, “I didn’t really know how to respond properly when Dorcus made that remark. And, erm, I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable by admitting I probably, erm, wouldn’t mind finding out how good your,” he gulped slightly, “abilities are.” 
Your gaze fell to his lips before meeting his eyes once more; Sirius bit his lip, trying to hold back what you were sure was a shit-eating smirk. His hand cupped your cheek gently, “Can I?” You gave a small nod as you leaned in, Sirius closing the remaining distance before capturing your lips with his. This was not a fiery, passionate, kiss. But soft, gentle and sweet. His lips slotted against yours as though they were always meant to be there. 
His fingers entangled slightly in your hair, pulling you closer to him. You braced yourself with a hand on his thigh. A small whimper drifted from Sirius’s throat at the extra physical contact, wanting to fuel you further. What felt like two small, solid objects pelted both you and Sirius, causing you both to pull away from each other in confusion. “Don’t partners usually only make out when they win a game, not when they lose?” Marlene teased lightly. You looked over at Lilly who gave you a wink. One thing was for sure, you were not going to doubt her again.
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mamayan · 1 year ago
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yandere jjk? with noncon(your wish) megumi /gojo/toji
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Yandere Gojo Satoru, Toji Fushiguro, Megumi Fushiguro x Fem! Darling
cw: Not proof read • Gladiator JJK! • Slave girl reader • Dark • Yandere • NSFW • Fem/AFAB Reader • NONCON turned DUBCON • Punishment • Spanking • Darling has hair long enough to pull • Spitting • Oral/Deep Throating • PIV Sex • Anal/Anal Play • Double Penetration • Gangbang • Praise/Degradation • Humiliation • Dumbification • Overstimulation • Dom jjk men • Sub reader • Kinda fluffy? • Manipulation • Sadistic Satoru (kinda)
wc: A lot? Idk like 4k or more, I did half on google doc and half here lol
Porn with no plot, just straight porn.
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“Hey, Meg,” it’s bad. This entire day couldn’t be going more horribly wrong.
“Hn?” A soft grunt for someone covered in so much gore.
“Your old man care we’re in his quarters?” The white haired male had his eyes covered by a strange metal band, one usually connected to a helmet. He wore no head gear though, hardly any armor either. A testament to his confidence and strength.
“He doesn’t.” The dark haired male still dripping blood spoke back, but his eyes didn’t leave your cowering form.
“Well then shall we? I’ve been hard since I won my match. Be a shame to waste good meat when it’s offered up like this.” The vile and leering tone of the white haired devil above you only had your blood going icy. The cool wet stone beneath your aching knees and skinned up palms was a stark contrast to your boiling insides. They spoke as if you were akin to the animals kept beneath the Colosseum, as if you were livestock meant for slaughter and not a living person. You should’ve known better, your Master had been so eager to offer up a servant for the great Gladiator Toji upon the man’s request. It seemed odd to not send a more experienced servant… instead your Master sent you. A lesser slave and much more inexperienced… you now realize why after being sent below the arena you were only used to seeing from above.
Gladiators surely have earned their keep. Muscles and bared teeth, the Gladiators are warriors to their core, ready to spill blood and die at any moment.
A soft thing like you? They wanted to chew up and spit out. Swallow whole. Take you apart piece by piece until you knew nothing of your own name or life before. Except you were Toji’s and that meant something. Well, to everyone but the two younger males standing over you. The white haired male seemingly a bit older than the dark, the two close too as the older one leaned against his younger counterpart with a hand on his hip as he examined you behind his metal eye block. You knew who these two males were. Everyone knew who they were.
Satoru and Megumi, you’d only seen them from afar, not wealthy enough to afford to sit closer to the arena floor. Even from afar they left an impression though, at least on your soul.
Demons.
Creatures from hell which have proven unkillable. Megumi being Toji’s son, while Satoru acted as Megumi’s teacher. They ruled the arena, and it’s not a secret that Satoru is a noble’s son who willingly joined the Gladiators after serving in the Imperial military. Megumi too volunteered for his position, while his father stayed employed working off an endless debt due to a gambling addiction the wealthy enjoy feeding. His mountain of owed cash so overflowing it’s rumored he even owes to the Emperor himself.
Yet it didn’t explain why you were here like this. You’d been told indirectly from a stable hand that Toji wished you to clean and wait in his chambers, private unlike lower classed Gladiators. Instead you’d been grabbed and tossed to the floor by Satoru and spoken about before your very eyes. You weren’t a fool. What they, or at least Satoru wanted, was clear enough.
“I-I’m sorry if I offended m-my lords, p-please forgive—,” you were silenced by a hand raising, a slim perfect finger help up against plush pink lips. Satoru’s lips tilted up in amusement as he eyed you behind his shades.
“Nu-uh pretty, you be good and stay silent while we talk, okay?” He spoke to you as one would address a child, not how a man who was quickly untying his leather breaches might. He ignored your trembling form to return his attention to his pupil.
“She’s cuter close up like this, right Meg?” Satoru teased, happy to free his aching hard cock from the tight confines of his pants. He loved the look of fright in your wide doe eyes, a slight tremor to your bottom lip. “I’ve been craving to sink my cock into your little cunt for a while now.” He’s addressing you again, crouching down to get more to your eye level so you caught a flash of bright blue through the metal blocking his eyes. His grin is sadistic and jovial, sharp canines bared aggressively as he jerks his leaking shaft without shame while watching you.
“P-please don’t—hgh!” Your jaw is gripped in an iron lock by Satoru, who still smiles despite the furrow of his brow.
“Thought I said no talkin’? If I need’a say it again…” he leaves the threat open. You can only tearfully nod the best his grip allows, cheeks smushed and lips pursed cutely while your reddened eyes silently ask for mercy this time. His grip softens minutely, “Good girl~” he praises, smile becoming less vicious as he releases you to stand up again.
“Want her first Meg?” Satoru addresses the silent male, who stares down at you with the same intensity he held the moment you’d entered the chambers.
“Yes.” That chills you more than Satoru’s comment, Megumi’s demeanor more dark and strangely concerning as he steps towards you. You have a few options now, and your mind reminds you that if you don’t act now it’s entirely over for you. Your first option is to simply allow it to happen. You’re a slave with no status, and you’ve had your ownership transferred to a Gladiator in eternal debt with the most violent track record. These two before you have a close connection with your new owner, disobeying could mean death.
Then again obedience could mean it too.
You leapt, lucky enough to escape the hand reaching out to grab you as you sprinted for the door. The thick wooden frame made your muscles scream as you yanked it open, and just as your foot stepped through the threshold, you were yanked back by your hair. A sharp scream echoed off the stone walls, your legs kicking out in protest as you fought back wildly.
Megumi needle only one arm to yank you up off your feet and onto the low platform bed his father occasionally used to sleep on. It’s been weeks though since he’s bothered sleeping in his own chambers, more often than not bought home by a noble woman for the evening after matches to warm their bed for a steep price. He rolled his eyes at your dramatics, easily subduing you with a hand circling your neck and slowly decreasing your oxygen and blood flow.
It made you very compliant, much to his lower half’s enjoyment. The little whimpers and weak hands slapping at his chest were akin to a kitten’s attack.
“Let’s see here~” Satoru hums, quick to grip the fabric of your clothing between two hands and tear it down the middle. It was a useless endeavor to attempt to escape, as they chuckle and strip you entirely naked on the bed smelling of dust, sweat, and blood now. Both males haven’t showered, Megumi’s body the most blood soaked even after stripping. The metallic sour tinge to his masculine scent revolting as you turn your head away in disgust.
“Nu-uh~ bad girl, you keep your eyes on us, or I’ll just remove them from your skull. Okay?” It didn’t matter how terrified you were before, the thought of your eyes being removed had them snapping to the male who threatened you. He’d tossed aside his eye piece, letting you see the visibly beautiful face of a God it seemed smiling down at you. In a way he was a God, or at least blessed by one, his strength and power undeniable but wicked and cruel ways no less. One pale slender finger pressed against the side of your face, just under your eye, and Satoru took enjoyment seeing how quickly you froze up. “Be a good girl now, Meg hasn’t had a woman before, so you’ll both get to have your first! Isn’t that romantic?” It wasn’t, at least to you, but the almost dreamy look in the dark eyed male was unmistakable.
Megumi was certainly in a dream it seemed. How could he not be? You were here, beneath him, and completely naked and vulnerable to do as he pleased. Before today he was certain you didn’t know his name, or if you did it was merely from his matches. He knew your name though, said it a thousand times when he gripped his cock and worked himself over, moaning it while he came nearly every morning. He wouldn’t need to touch his cock anymore though. He had you now. Whether he needed to share you with his teacher or father wasn’t bothersome, it meant you had more eyes looking out for you anyway.
Satoru amused himself with scaring you senseless while Megumi parted your trembling thighs, settling his shoulders between them to keep you from closing them again. “Oh fuck,” he breathed, catching Satoru’s attention.
“Look how wet she is…” Megumi couldn’t bring himself to much else but admire your soaked cunt even as you mumbled quiet pleas and prayers.
“Oh? Are you a little pervert Y/N? Do you like the thought that we’re going to fuck you?” Satoru’s relentless, soft lips pressing close to your ear and whispering his intentions and insults against the shell while you writhe at the feeling of something soft and slimy poking through your folds. His tongue, you realize with a jolt of him licking up, grazing your sensitive little clit. Your gasp doesn’t go unnoticed by either male, and soon a wide chiseled chest blankets you as Satoru captures your lips in a heavy kiss and invasion of your mouth. Megumi focuses on your lower mouth though, fingers digging into the fat of your thigh as he struggles to retain his sanity as he loses himself to your taste and the erotic euphoria filling him. Every little wiggle and moan encourages him on where to lick and suck, and eventually his fingers sneak down and into your quivering wet hole.
“Mhm! P-plea—!” Satoru muffles all protest with his mouth, one free hand playing with your chest while you struggle to avoid the building pressure in your lower belly as Megumi relentlessly attacks your nub and hole. He flicks and meanly pinches and pulls your nipples, enjoying how your spine arches up each time he bullies them. He doesn’t let you avoid his kiss, and if you close your mouth he plugs your nose and forces it open again so his tongue can taste you.
It’s too much, and you’re coming much too quickly from their rough attention.
It doesn’t end though, only changes as Megumi lifts up, dark hair slightly limp and falling into his eyes as he softly smiles at you, much like a lover might despite the horrid situation. “So good f’me, think you can do it again for him?” He’s not really asking, as he switches places with Satoru who looks overjoyed and viscous as he stares at your quivering dripping pussy.
“Course she can, just listen.” Satoru laughs, messily rubbing your overly sensitive clit and eliciting a yelp from your swollen lips. The lewd wet noises produced from his heavy petting only increasing the shame building inside you as you tearfully whine and try to twist your hips away. “She’s soaking the bed too. We’re getting everything dirty anyway, let’s just fuck her up as much as possible.” You don’t understand what that means until two fingers sink all the way inside you without warning.
“Oh Gods!” Your short cry is silenced again when Megumi decides to kiss you. His lips more tentative and the taste slightly shocking until you realize you’re tasting yourself on his tongue. Despite all you wish for, it makes you tighten on Satoru’s fingers as he gleefully curls them up inside your gummy walls.
“Think she likes how she tastes.” The devilish comment only makes Megumi groan in response, pulling back slightly to reply. “She tastes fucking delicious.” He murmurs against you, stealing your breath again while your poor cunt is finger fucked by Satoru at a quick and forceful rate. Each thrust of his hand accompanied by a loud squelch as he uses his other hand to ensure you stay spread and still despite the panic striking you.
“Mh! S’too’—ngh!!!” Even as you squirm and cry, neither lets up until you’re breaking this time, orgasm so strong you feel your eyes roll back.
“That’s it pretty girl, cum for me,” Satoru nearly comes with you as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm, fluid rapidly forced from the confines of your cunt and out as you squirt for him. It’s a sight for sore eyes, the cute fucked out expression on your face as they force your body to relax and lubricate itself for their pleasure.
You’re too out of it to notice the switch again, Megumi back between your thighs but this time holding his curved thick cock between his fingers. Gripping it, he pulls back the skin hiding his sensitive head, easily slicking the tip up. The bulbous soft head smushing against your clit and folds and dragging up and down as you squeak and tiredly roll your head to look up and down.
It’s too late to truly realize what’s happening until his hips are surging forward and the tight ring of muscle at the opening of your pussy is stretched wide open on his cock for the first time. Your scream is silent, mouth open but no noise leaving. Instead you hear Megumi’s moans, short gasps of pleasure huffed into the humid and heating room as he struggles to work his shaft into your tight canal either trying to suck him further in or force him out. Your contracting muscles and choked gasps only spur him to fuck deeper until you’re filled inch by inch with him.
He bottoms out eventually, your sweaty bodies tinged slightly pink as he rubs against you, smearing blood from the Gladiator he killed today on your skin now.
“Wow~ look at how well you’re taking him, here, I’ll help.” In your shock and daze, you’d nearly forgotten about Satoru. The male happy to lift you up and make you see the enormous cock now swallowed up inside you, filling you almost painfully as you shake. “How’s it feel Meg?” He asks, blue eyes looking at Megumi’s strained expression.
“G-good…” is all he can manage. It’s better than good, more than good will ever be, but it’s all he can choke out without snapping and fucking you roughly.
“Hm~ it’ll feel better if you play with her here,” Satoru guides, his striking blue gaze focused on you with a nearly malevolent intensity as you grit your teeth to attempt to adjust to the intrusion more gracefully. He ruins it though, skilled fingers dancing down your belly and right to where you’re most vulnerable. Your cry isn’t silenced this time as Satoru presses down on the fleshy pearl above your opening. Megumi’s clumsy thrusts have spread you to your limit while Satoru rubs your nub with calculated precision.
“F-forgive me…I-I’m sorry…” both males look to your face now, confusion painting Megumi’s flushed face while Satoru seems enamored.
“How cute~ what’re you apologizing for?” He doesn’t let up. His fingers give you no rest and Megumi’s jerky thrusts seem intent on staying as deeply buried as possible. “Shh, being s’good, relax for me.” Megumi murmurs close to your ear, leaning over you some as Satoru braces you from behind.
It’s too much. You’re clamping down tight around the hot shaft stuffed deep inside, muscles contracting almost painfully around him.
“Gods—fuck, she’s so tight,” he sounds in pain, his nails digging in more harshly into your flesh as Megumi struggles to withhold his orgasm. It’s useless, moments after your own crashes down, he’s spilling into you, thick spurts of cum filling your womb as you groan and lay limp in Satoru’s arms.
Megumi recovers faster than you though, kissing your tired sweaty face as you blearily stare up in a daze.
He finds it cute.
Satoru does too. Happy to simply pull you up under your arms like a rag doll and position over his lap and against his chest.
“I can’t—a-anymore, no more—,”
“Poor thing. Has no one told you it’s good to push your limits? I think you can. Should we see who is right?” Your pleading look is lost on Megumi who merely pats your hair down, face serene as he watches you. Satoru gives you no time to recover before he’s wrapping an arm around your waist and lifting you.
“No cryin’ now, I let Meg stretch you out good n’well, I don’t want any tears unless they’re from how good I’m fuckin’ you.” His grin is sinful as he lets gravity sink you on his cock, the low light of the candles on the wall giving the illusion of sunset across his pale pretty features.
“O-oh!” Satoru snickers a laugh as you moan in startled shock. His words not a lie as he stretches you out in a different way. Where Megumi had been thick and curved, Satoru was much longer, hitting so deep it felt like the air was knocked from your lungs. It was enough a surprise to have you holding onto him, making the white haired Gladiator coo at you.
“Look at you~,” he’s not gentle as he bounces you on his cock. “Am I just so deep in this pussy? She seems to like how I fill her out, she’s just gushin’ all over me.” He holds onto the fat of your ass, hands spread wide to help anchor and rock you as he thrusts up. “Stay awake, pretty girl, remember what I told you? Eyes on me.” It’s difficult to concentrate on his husky voice when it seems he’s intent on breaking you, each time his shaft struck deep inside you swore your vision blurred. This wasn’t the slow overwhelming pleasured pain forced on you by Megumi… this was just rough sloppy sex with a maniac. Nevertheless, you do as told as try to keep your eyes open and on Satoru. His gaze didn’t waver like yours, despite the sweat sliding down his cheek, he never lost his arrogant smile or sparkle in his eyes.
A stark contrast to the lax expression you wore, lips parted and wet as you struggle to even swallow as you tearily moan like a whore in a brothel for these Gladiators using you like a sex toy. Your fucked out face and impending orgasm are what send Satoru over the edge. When your soft warm pussy creams around him and your eyes cross, Satoru can’t help but nearly whimper as his balls draw up tight and he fills you up along with Megumi’s earlier load.
The dark haired male seemingly content to watch or occasionally praise and pet sweetly while Satoru savagely used you.
It’s over, it must be over, you think as Satoru pulls out of you slowly with a soft pop, lifting you up and off to the side to lay you down. You can feel their combined releases leak down your thighs, soft hiccups escaping you as you catch your breath and come down from the intense high.
You feel nearly hollow as both men stand and begin loosely dressing, holstering their weapons back into their bodies as they prepare to simply leave.
It hurts worse despite all else.
“Pretty girl looks heartbroken Meg, should we stay?”
“Not when he’s coming back from a match, we need to meet with the Emperor before he goes back to the Palace.” Megumi shakes his head, his gaze softening when it lands on you.
“We’ll be back in a few hours, be good.”
They’re gone after those words, and while your heart filled with fury and humiliation, your eyes burned with sadness and something akin to loneliness. Just as you’d finished wallowing in self pity, ready to pull yourself together again and clean up both yourself and the mess made, the door opens again.
Both of you freeze, though for different reasons.
Toji froze because he’d forgotten he’d had you sent here, and you froze because a monster was standing before you.
Your scream is muffled before it leaves your lips, one single palm covering nearly your entire face as Toji looms over you in his full arena battle armor, the black intricately designed metal dripping crimson as he drops his weapon to the ground with a clang.
“Non’a that shit. Hear me, girl?” You nod weakly to show you listened.
Once he was sure you weren’t planning to scream his ears off more than the crowds already did, he released you and took another look.
Cute and well fucked is his first appraisal. He briefly recalls Megumi telling him his wish to have you, so it’s not strange his kid had jumped on his new slave so quickly. The marks littering you were likely that asshole’s doing, his kid too soft to be anything but be sweet towards the object of his affection. Toji briefly considered getting paid for his services tonight, but he was tired, and you looked fresh enough still.
“They fuck you good?” His question brought a baffled look to your face, amusing him as he begins unfastening his ties and removing his armor. You stay awestruck before him as he slowly sheds his persona in the arena, his laid back rugged appearance quite handsome up close as he towers over you with both height and brawn.
“M-master—,” you would either be killed or sold, there’s no way—
“You think you can handle me too?”
You stand nude before your new master still dripping the cum of his son and peer, and he asks if he can have a turn too?
“Yeah. I think you can.” He answers himself in your state of shock, and despite the sweat and blood coating him, he’s unabashed as he strips naked and corrals you back onto the bed.
“M-master please, I-I need to clean up! A-and sh-should run you a bath!” You were grasping at straws, frantically trying to escape the beastly male now licking his lips with a smirk, the scar in his mouth tugging up. You make the mistake of looking down, only to see the monster he contained beneath his armored belt.
Why was it so big? The girth alone frightened you, his length even longer than Satoru’s too, the veins running along the enormous shaft made your poor slick cunt still dripping cum clench. He’d break you. There’s not a doubt in your mind as you crawl away, his advance never slowing as he chuckles at your display.
“I don’t see why ya can’t clean after, hn?” He descends like a wolf to prey, easily pinning you down on your back, slotting his body between your thighs and forcing them open painfully wide to accommodate his size. “Don’t even need’t prep, still drippin’ huh?” He smiles, lazily grabbing his heavy appendage and lubricating himself through your folds.
“P-please master, it won’t fit—hah!” Your cry of shock only makes him sink faster and deeper into you, pressing and forcing himself into your cunt which protests the weighty thick invasion of the older male above you. He smells like the earth, like soft dirt and grass, metallic like copper, and sweat. Toji watches as your back arches further and further up, the sharp angle not looking entirely pleasant but it pushes your bust up for him to lean over and capture a perky nipple to suckle on, his teeth grazing the tip and groaning as your cunt spasms around him.
“Never understand why women say it won’t fit,” Toji mumbles against your saliva covered tit, strings of it still connected to his mouth as he casually addresses you despite pulling out and making you feel like he’s going to take your insides with it. “Y’can push a baby through here, my cock isn’t as big as that.” Not the point, but you’re too feverish to pay attention any longer as he begins sliding in easier and easier as the combined releases from earlier lube his cock to fuck you.
He sees the strain on your face, the shaking of your thighs and the tears leaking down your cheeks again. Generously, Toji lifts up under both your knees and hoists you higher, holding your lower half up and allowing himself to slide deeper. The girlish squeal you release only has his hips snapping harder, working his cock in as deep as he can, feeling the stress of the day melt in your soft tight pussy. He grunts as you cum, mouth open as drool escapes down your chin, cute wet moans so soft and breathy as you shudder and gasp.
“That feel good?” He smiles, the dopey expression on your face too cute for him not to bend down and capture your lips this time. Sucking and nibbling on your lips till they’re swollen before he delves his tongue into your hot mouth, his tongue taking up too much space until you’re squirming for air. He denies you it, swirling around your own pink appendage while rocking you with each thrust, rolling his hips expertly until your eyes are going crossed and you’re meeting his thrusts with your own. When your hands move to touch him, he restrains them, curling his much larger hands around your own and putting them beside your head while he presses you up and down into a mating press.
“Oh gods,” you can only cry for mercy, begging for more or less you aren’t sure, as he languidly pumps his cock into you until you don’t know up from down.
“No gods here girl, just this fucking tight little cunt y’got here, beggin’ f’another load.” You can’t even shake your head, in fact you find you wouldn’t mind it, the feeling of his hot seed spilling into you. He’s pressed you down so well you can’t even wiggle your hips, only moan and whine waiting for him to speed up, to fuck you harder.
He doesn’t. Just keeps the same steady pace and rhythm, balls slapping your ass at the same time, slimy and wet with all the mixed fluids your cunt has forced out by Toji’s invasion. Toji ignores your nonverbal cues for more, smirk still the same as he even occasionally grinds in deep to watch your eyes widen and lips part. The soft squishy leaking tip of his cock continuously smushing up against the soft barrier of your cervix, ready to spill his load and fill your womb.
“Master~” you begin to lose it completely, arching up as well as you can to press your chest to him, “Harder! Please fuck me! Please, harder please—,” a mindless chant for more, just a little more, to push you into that crest of euphoria where you crave to be again.
Who is he to deny such cute lewd begging?
Toji laughs, grin bared like a wild animal as he leans even more weight down on you before picking up his pace, pounding you into the mattress while your eyes roll back into your skull and you scream your impending orgasm. It hits you so hard you pass out for a moment, vision completely darkening as waves of pleasure engulf you.
Toji spills his load not long after, groaning deep in his throat as he releases as deep into you as possible, hips stilling and locking against your groin to ensure your cunt doesn’t waste a drop.
“Hey,” you’re too out of it, as he taps your cheek and only receives a blissed out smile and clouded vision. Just as he prepares to pull out and give himself a minute before fucking you again, his door opens.
“Boo~! You stretched her poor pussy out with that thing. I wanted to play with it again.” Satoru whines, blue eyes narrowed in childish petulance.
“Shut up, brat.” Toji rolls his eyes, cocking a brow at Megumi who moves silently around to check on you. His small smile at the pretty expression you wore grew, looking so fondly down at you it made Toji’s teeth ache.
“Hey~ Meg, you gonna use her? Otherwise I will~” Satoru begins undressing shamelessly, Toji’s exasperated glower ignored as the white haired male joins them in bed, tapping his hard cock on your puffy slick lips, letting you taste his salty precum.
“Fucking brats.” Despite his words, Toji feels his cock hardening again inside your warmth, giving a few short hard thrusts into your cunt to fully harden. He grips your hips and rolls so you rest on his chest, digging his fingers into the fat of your ass and spreading your cheeks for the two younger males to see.
“She’s got another hole that can be filled.” Toji grunts, beginning a slow a pace sensual pace inside you, more rocking than actual thrusts as you mewl against the hard planes of his chest. Satoru shivers, licking his lips as he brings his face down to where your puckered back entrance rests untouched. He’s unbothered by Toji’s thick cock spreading your pussy open, opening his mouth and letting his tongue prod your ass while you jolt and tremble in Toji’s hold.
“Easy girl, ain’t gonna hurt.” He mumbles, roughly petting your hair while you turn your face away to look back, only to feel fingers gently tangle in your hair.
“Here,” you’re being fed more cock, Megumi’s leaking swollen tip smearing his fluids across your closed lips until they open and he can plunge into your mouth’s warm depths with a moan. Your mind slowly goes blank again, the earlier feeling of panic fading as Satoru plays with your ass, using your own cum as lube and spreading it over the hole before playfully pressing his thumb into the tight space.
You moan around Megumi’s cock, the shaft sinking deeper into your throat while Toji fucks you a little faster, feeling you tighten with Satoru’s intrusion.
They play like that for a while, slowly speeding up before becoming languid again, turning you into a soft wet mess in their hold as Satoru finally lines his cock up with your free hole, groaning loudly as he fails to press inside. A sharp slap to your ass tears you free from your bliss, the pain biting but making the pleasure stand out more as Satoru looks at your hole in irritation. “Hey, sluts should just relax, let me in,” he complains, slapping your ass again and making you do the opposite and tighten.
“Shit, tight fucking pussy,” Toji moans, moving you up and down his shaft faster while Satoru tries again, spitting on his dick lewdly and pressing the tip back at your hole, hips driving forward and finally breeching. “Ngh—!” Satoru nearly cums on the spot, feeling the tight ribbed walls of your ass strangling his cock as he spears you open.
You’re so full it’s unbelievable, head empty and completely blank while feeling two thick cocks open you up while Megumi continues to fuck your mouth.
You can’t say a word, only feel as Satoru sets the pace while Toji helps rock you back and forth. With your hips occupied with Toji’s hands, Satoru instead wraps his long slender fingers around your neck, dragging you away from Megumi, loose enough for you to breathe but tight so he can draw you up against his chest as he drives into your tight sphincter with short jerky thrusts, lips pressed against your ear as he groans low in his throat. Megumi stands, perfect height with you lifted like this to comfortably slip his cock back into your mouth and down your throat. It’s too much and not enough at the same time, the slow clapping of skin and trembling movements, no one wanting this to end too soon while you writhe and jerk in their hold as they use you.
“I think you like being our little whore, huh?” Satoru whispers in your ear like a demon. “Feeling us all fill your filthy holes, making you our pretty slut to fuck however we want.” He’s so deep inside you, hips flush with your ass he stretches you on his cock, the thin skin separating him and Toji continuously stretched and rubbed from inside. A mess of fluids coated you all from below, so much so it was all wet squelching and moans from the languid movements of the gladiators. “Bet you’d like it if we just chained you up to fill all your holes, right Princess?” His condescending tone is lost on you as you feel your lower belly tighten painfully, the fullness becoming more evident as you get closer to your end.
“Don’t tease her,” Megumi huffs, looking fondly at Satoru with a hint of exasperation. “She’s being so good, taking all of us so well,” he feels you swallow around his rod, eyes fluttered closed as he thrusts into your mouth. “We should reward her.”
Toji chuckles, knowing exactly what the two were up to.
“Oh~? How should we reward our little cum Princess then?” You stutter as you feel Toji shift his hand and press down on your belly, body shaking as your eyes watered. Your hands were useless trying to push him away, only feeling his cock twitch and flex inside of you while he smiled.
“She looks close, should help her finish.” Megumi huffs, his own end nearing as you slobber and choke on his cock.
“Hmm~ guess I’ll be nice, this time,” he breathes the last bit in your ear threateningly, but the seductive undertone has you shaking in a way that isn’t from fear. Satoru releases one hand from around your throat to dip down until he can swirl his finger around your swollen sensitive clit. It’s already covered in slick, easily letting him press and grind down, feeling you buck and moan in their grasp beautifully.
“You gonna cum Princess? All over our cocks?” Satoru has you clutched close as he fucks you, helping forcing you down on Toji’s cock while you groan around Megumi’s length. “Cum for us, let us ruin you.” It’s like he’s a prophet for the Gods, because when you do cum, you do feel ruined. Megumi’s hips stutter as you gluck and allow his cock even deeper, his balls drawing tight as he floods your throat with his cum.
Satoru and Toji cum shortly after, grunting and moaning their own finishes while you’re cradled limply against Toji’s chest now, eyes unfocused as you’re filled again and again.
Your dreams provide you with sweet relief, as you’re left unconscious in Megumi’s arms as he cleans you in a warm bath he’s pulled and heated.
“No fun~ she looked cuter covered in cum.” Satoru grins, but his smitten expression isn’t missed by Megumi who shakes his head with a smile.
“She won’t sleep good like that.” Is all he says, gently washing you clean and drying you off to take to bed. The bed Toji hardly ever uses now occupied by four occupants.
Toji watches in silence as you’re laid down, Megumi calmly sliding in while Satoru flatly lays at the bottom of the bed.
“Sure you want her?” Toji asks as the silence descends on them all.
Megumi’s dark gaze flicks up to his father.
“Hmph, acting like you don’t?” He challenged back, only to be met with a smirk and a heavy hand landing on top his head, making Satoru cackle.
You awake clean and warm, with a new pristine silver chain wrapped around your ankle and chained into the stone wall.
Satoru wasn’t kidding.
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Dividers by @benkeibear
If you liked this, please reblog!♡ It is what sustains me, well, coffee too but reblogging is the dominant factor—
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mrsparrasblog · 5 months ago
Text
Barracks Baby
Summary: After sleeping with four of your fellow teammates, you need to navigate through pregnancy and finding out who the Baby Daddy is
You should have listened to your mother, was all you thought when you looked at that bloody positive stick in your hand. Your mother always said, "Don’t whore around; you’re going to end up pregnant and unwed. Keep your virginity until marriage," blah blah blah.
What your mom didn’t tell you were the effects of living on a military base. You wouldn’t call yourself a barracks bunny—you only slept with four guys; there must be more to it for earning that title. And who could judge you? Everyone would if they could. These four men were everything every other man lacked on earth. No one could make you cum as many times as John could, no one could make you feel so stupid like Simon could, no one was as pretty and nice as Kyle—fucking him in any other position than missionary would be a crime against humanity—and no one had as much stamina as Johnny; he could go for at least six rounds, shove a protein bar between your pouty lips, and go four more.
You weren’t sure what to do. That was a lie—you always wanted kids, just not like this, not in this situation, without knowing who the baby daddy is, being employed by the military, and best of all, being broke. Of course, you could call your best friend Conny; she would always support you with the baby, but even she couldn’t help you break the news to the boys.
Your mother would probably kill you—no, she wouldn’t, but she would tell you all about eating liver sprinkled with fish oil, quitting your job, and getting into a relationship with that loser Mark you once dated. He would still take you after being knocked up, but how could you return to that after having these four guys?
You needed to tell them; you knew it. There was no other way around this situation. Maybe one of them would step up. You were sure if it was Price's baby, he would support you mentally and financially, though your military career would be destroyed. Simon would be a different story; he hated kids—or at least that’s what you thought. He never wanted them, never anything more than a fling. Johnny would be the safest choice; he would take care of you, step up, marry you, and make you a cute housewife in the Highlands. No more working sounded good right now to you. Kyle was a wildcard; he would support you—he was a good guy—but he never spoke about kids. He could either love them or hate them.
You stood up; it was enough time sitting on the toilet and overthinking. You walked outside, gripping the stick tightly and holding it against your stomach, trying to hide it from the rookies walking past you. They had too much fun; if you were with Simon right now, you’d make them run laps for smiling. Rookies aren’t there to be happy; they are there to suffer. Fuck, you’re going to be a terrible mom, you thought. You treated rookies badly, you forgot to feed your hamster once, and you’re only good at shooting and fucking—what will you teach this kid? The anxiety inside of you only grew bigger with every passing second.
You reached the meeting room, sat down, and sighed as you took out your phone, scrolling until you found the Group chat 141 + Hot Stuff. You remembered how Johnny changed it after you joined and how the Lt. threw a fit over it.
You: Important things to discuss, please come to the meeting room, now.
Daddy <3: Everything okay?
Emo Boy: Affirmative
Pretty Boy: Can I finish the set?
Bubbles: It’s 7 am, I’m not coming
You: NOW
With that, everyone agreed. You weren’t sure how to break the news. "Hey, I’m pregnant; it might be any one of you. Surprise, Daddy!" wasn’t a good idea. Leaving the pregnancy test out on the table as if it were a loaded gun wasn’t a good idea either. Well, you had to admit it was like a round of Russian roulette, just more deadly.
Simon was the first to join. He looked at you as if he knew but kept his mouth shut. After a few minutes, everyone was sitting at the table, looking at you in confusion. You never called a meeting; it would be uncalled for as a Sergeant anyway.
"Why are we here, Bonnie?" Soap destroyed the silence you had hidden yourself in.
You could talk now, explain it, or say anything to make it sound better, but all you could say was a miserable, "I’m pregnant."
Shocked expressions would be an understatement. John tugged on his beard, Johnny lost the color from his face, Kyle looked as if he were a teenager caught past curfew, and Simon’s expression was unreadable to you.
"I’m not sure who the father is among you four," the second bomb went off.
"How could that happen?" was all Johnny said.
"Yes, how could that happen," you spat out sarcastically.
"Babe, please let me cum inside, need you raw." "Let Daddy breed you, Sweetheart, need you all full for me." "The condom broke again, Bonnie." "I’ll pull out, love." Yes, how could that have happened?
"I’m out of this shit," Ghost’s words cut deeper than a knife as he stood up and left without another word. By your luck, he was probably the Dad.
"My mother is going to kill me."
"You’re 28, Gaz, no one’s going to kill you. You’re not a bloody teenager anymore."Price spoke in a stern voice.
"Oh."
"Yes, oh."
"I’ll give you financial support if it is mine or if you want to get rid of it," when you thought Ghost's words hurt, then Price killed you. He made you on the edge of breaking down—correction, you broke down. The tears in your eyes already streamed down your cheeks; damn hormones. Price looked at you in guilt. He wanted to speak up, but Johnny went first.
"That’s fucking great news, Bonnie. If it’s mine, oh God, I always wanted a wee bairn. Think of him looking like me, or getting twins—the MacTavish genes are pretty strong. We’re getting a wee lad, probably a 10-pounder like me."
Ten pounds—that’s a whole ass turkey. You didn’t even get the chance to excuse yourself before you ran outside, throwing up again. "Fuck, what did I get myself into?"
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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 9 months ago
Text
Yandere Manager When You Call in Sick
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“Wait what!?”
Your eyes are so heavy you can barely see
Your body too is like concrete
And the Hot and Cold chills changing from an inescapable savanna to the North side of the Arctic
It’s honestly a miracle you were able to call at all
For all his nagging and disturbing actions for the time being he is your official boss
It would be unprofessional not to say something
You also must be in such a haze because you only called him and not the assistant manager
After you make the call, you return to the pillow and you slip back into a feverish sleep
Of course unbeknownst to you the Manager is losing it
The other employees have probably gotten the gist after he launched a chair into the breakroom wall and began angrily mumbling to himself
“B-b-boss, why don’t you go visit them? Like, offer to take care of them!”
“Y-y-yeah j-j-j-ust give us the keys for lock up and you can go pick up some soup for them or something. Y-you still have their key right?”
Like an instant change of night and day, the Manager is all smiles as he easily wrenches the chair from the new hole in the wall
“Thanks, guys! I promise not to secretly apply those pay cuts I wanted to. I’ll also be sure to give you a pizza party. And for good measure, I won’t slash your tires. ”
“What?!” “Wait–”
“Toodaloo!” 
With a skip in his step, Clyde is on his way to your house after visiting the local pharmacy and employing his manager's discount 
Ie: blackmail 
“Honey, I’m home! Have you eaten today? Drink any water?”
If it weren’t for the attempts at getting this man off your property 
But of course, he’ll stroll in with his copied key of yours
And for once you’ll probably appreciate it
Massages or icepack or heating pad whatever you want he pampers you beyond compare
Taking advantage of your feverish disposition to lick kiss the sweat on your body
“You’re so sweet, Honey! Even when your sick!”
After a swab on the inside of your cheek don’t ask why he wanted that+
And a little cuddle 
Then he starts doing your chores
Clothes, food prep, organizing, cleaning 
He gets to work
Taking the dirty undergarments or sucking on your toothbrush as compensation
It’s a nervous habit
Where he keeps himself busy because staring at your labored breathing scares him 
He’ll pop into check on you but for his health he can’t be by your side 24/7
At the end of the day, if your temperature hasn’t gone down, he might call his special doctor
Now don’t try asking for their  credentials–they’ll just ignore you
But they’ll make sure you’ll pull through from this 
“How are you feeling, my love? Better?”
“W-what are you doing in my house?”
“Now do you want takeout or homemade chili? Also, I don’t approve of your shift changes so you’ll have to come in your usual times.”
When you are well enough to physically push him out he’ll start concluding his visit
“GET OUT! And don’t come back!”
“So mean! You’re lucky I don’t dock your pay right now!”
For all his whining he is quite pleased
The haul was magnificent this time around
Part of its charm is the fact that you were in the house when he stole it
“Ah what a good day….it’s almost so good maybe I won’t slash my employees' tires anyway…,,,who am I kidding? That’s the best part of the weekend!”
More of Yandere Manager
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lovebugism · 7 months ago
Note
u said 2 do ur worst for shy!r so…. steve and reader go to the hawkins snowball dance and a slow song comes on and its a uber romantic song (i’m talking taylor swift type romance) and steve ofc asks r to dance… she’s super shy so she keeps looking at the floor but then steve does the thing where you lift the other persons chin up so they’re looking into ur eyes… if u wanna elaborate on this :)
i changed this up a wee bit, but i hope u like it! — when steve is finally crowned prom king, all he can think about is getting a dance with his (sorta) secret girlfriend (shy!fem!r, hurt/comfort, 1.2k)
Steve abandons his crown and scepter somewhere between the bleachers and the snack table. The thought of finding you is far more important than the chunks of plastic they give him. 
The cold breeze of the early evening cools his warm cheeks, flushed red from the adrenaline and the alcohol. He finds you sitting on the wooden bench outside the gymnasium, pretty and all alone. The skirt of your fairy-tale dress billows around your calves. Elbows digging into your thighs, you prop your chin on your fists and pout softly beneath the pale moonlight. 
You’re the prettiest thing Steve’s ever seen. The saddest, too, maybe.
“Been looking for you,” he says to announce his presence. The lopsided smile on his face is audible. You know it’s dancing on his pink mouth before you ever turn around to face him. 
He’s a pretty thing in a sleek tux. Boyishly handsome. Sort of like he’s playing dress-up. The thought almost makes you smile.
“Sorry,” you apologize in a mousy voice, blinking up at him with sparkly, made-up eyes when he looms over you. “It got… really loud in there…”
“Well, Tommy spiked the punch, so… It was kinda inevitable,” Steve jokes with a lazy shrug, even though he isn’t really joking. 
He watched the idiot steal his dad’s best liquor from the high-up cabinet two hours ago. The Hawkins High class of ’85 got drunk on it in record time. The school pulses with life accordingly. The brick behind you threatens to shake with it.
Your nose scrunches. “Is that why it tasted like gasoline?”
“Probably,” Steve grins.
He huffs and sits at the spare spot next to you. The old bench creaks in protest. He takes his first good breath all night when he’s finally alone with you. The fresh air and your perfume fill his lungs, smoother than silk. There’s a subtle euphoria and a distant nostalgia between it all. 
He’s spent years chasing this feeling. He thought maybe being crowned prom king would solve all his problems. Spoiler alert: it didn’t. ‘Cause you did.
“You coming back inside?”
Your lips purse to the side of your mouth as you ponder the question. “I don’t know… Probably not.”
Steve’s freshly shaven face swirls with visible confusion. He loves a party — especially when he’s the life of it — so it’s hard for him to comprehend how other people don’t. Even though he knows, more than anyone else, that you’re made of something much more delicate than that.
“Why not?”
“Prom’s not really my scene, Steve,” you answer with a scoffed-out laugh.
He flashes you a crooked smile in return, painted silver in the moonlight. His cologne swaddles you in its musk when he leans over to nudge your shoulder. “You promised me a dance, remember?”
Your soft features harden into a frown. “Absolutely not.”
“Oh, c’mon! You know you wanna dance with me,” he protests through a poorly bitten-back laugh.
“Why?” you press, meeting his beam with a lighthearted scowl. “So all your friends can laugh at me?”
“Screw ‘em! They’re assholes— who cares?”
“I care. ‘Cause you’re not the one they’re laughing at, King Steve.”
You spit the stupid nickname with playful venom in your tone, but Steve can’t help but smile at it, anyway. He’s a week away from graduating, halfway employed, and Hawkins High’s reigning prom king. It’s all slightly maddening — especially now that he’s got you.
He wonders if you applauded when he won that stupid crown. If you laughed at him about it, or if you were strangely proud. He’ll ask you about it later. After he gets that dance.
“Let ‘em laugh,” he shrugs.
You shake your head, averting your gaze with a sad smile. You wish it were that easy. 
“You don’t know what it’s like,” you tell him as the heavy bass inside the school starts to slow. Through the high-up frosted windows, you hear Girls on Film fade into Never Tear Us Apart. 
“Sorry for wanting to dance with my girlfriend,” he teases to ease the tension. It comes out more serious than he intended, though, ‘cause he is sort of sorry. Nothing about your two worlds exactly meshes — yet here he is, still hopelessly trying to tangle them together.
You know this, so you sigh. “Sorry for not being prom queen,” you joke back, only partly serious. You blink at him with a pair of twinkling eyes — slightly smudged with mascara. The sparkles of your eyeshadow glint when they catch the moonlight. 
“Don’t want you to be prom queen,” Steve confesses softly, smiling at you somehow softer. “I like you the way you are right now.”
You get a warm, tingly feeling in your stomach. It wells up your chest and into your throat until you feel like you might cry. 
You roll your eyes at him when they start to burn, laughing softly to distract from the overwhelming feeling. Your gaze flits to the velvet night sky, speckled with twinkling stars, until you get the courage to look back at the boy beside you. His face glitters with something hopeful. 
You swallow hard and ask, “You still want that dance or what?”
Steve glows with a boyish excitement. “Yeah! Are you kidding? Of course, I do.”
“Out here, though,” you tell him when he rises from the bench.
He smiles at the stern look in your delicate eyes. “Why? You ashamed of me or somthin’?” he jokes, as if he wasn’t named just prom king.
You stand before him with your arms crossed over the pretty corset of your dress. You bite back a smile. “I just wanna spend time with my boyfriend without it being on the cover of The Weekly Streak tomorrow,” you confess.
“Fair enough,” Steve nods, smoothing his wide hands over your sides. 
Yours are much less confident. They tremble with a misplaced worry as they spread over his shoulders. Your fingers fidget on the satin lapels of his expensive suit. His longer ones guide you back and forth, swaying you gently to the slow beat of the muffled song.
—Don’t ask me, what you know is true…
Don’t have to tell you, I love your precious heart—
You get lost in it all before you mean to. The warmth of having him so close, swaddled in his big hands and deep cologne. 
His honeyed gaze hasn’t yet wavered from you, but you don’t have the heart to meet it. He’s looking at you like he loves you. Like you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. Like you’re the fucking prom queen. 
You don’t feel particularly deserving of any of it.
“Are you still having fun?” you ask with a scrunched nose, visibly riddled with feelings of inadequacy. You still haven’t quite figured out why he’d rather be out here with you than inside with everyone else — with Vicki Carmichael, the actual prom queen.
“Loads,” Steve answers without missing a beat. His hands squeeze reassuringly at your hips as he flashes you a crooked grin. “It’s not even a question, honestly. I’d choose you over those schmucks in there any day of the week.”
He nods his slicked-back hair to the pulsing brick a few feet away. A few gelled chestnut strands drape over his forehead. You fight the urge to push them back.
“Really?” you squeak with your pretty face, all dolled up, twisted with an innocent look of confusion.
You have no idea how beautiful you are, Steve thinks to himself.
“Yeah,” he nods, grinning wide and wearing all his adoration on his chiseled, golden face. He could hide it if he tried. “Tommy Hagan isn’t nearly as pretty to look at.”
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kumkaniudaku · 11 days ago
Text
Askew
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Summary: Terry makes good on a promise.
Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC
Word Count: 2.1k
Warnings: SMUT (18+)
Previous: At Last: Part Two
“I’m gonna fuck the glasses off your face tonight. Okay?” 
A simple sentence. No fanfare. No lingering touch or a suggestive look. Not even a repeat of his matter-of-fact declaration despite the words nearly being lost to the pockets of conversation in Corey’s kitchen during a rowdier than usual Friendsgiving gathering. Terry calmly whispered the plain statement into Patrice’s ear as he passed by on the way out of the door to join the other men in the backyard. 
Patrice tried to appear unphased while she sipped from her plastic cup of white wine. “Now?”
“I’ll let you know.” 
He’d made up his mind to have her babbling incoherent sentences while he bent her over the living room couch before they could make it out of the house, but holding in his little secret had proven difficult. Terry wished he could blame it on the tequila shots or the haze of weed smoke blown out of mouths far too federally employed to still be dabbling with the plant. Either would be an acceptable lie because the truth was too trivial to share. It was the North Carolina A&T crew neck and black cat-eye glasses Patrice had chosen to sport for the night. His mind dreamt up all the times he’d missed her studying for exams in the sweater a hair too large, and glasses that made her look like a professor during office hours while she bounced around the room making small talk with people he hardly recognized. His social butterfly moving her lips a mile a minute when all he wanted to do was feel those lips on every square inch of his body.
Terry needed her in the worst way. The bathroom might’ve sufficed. Maybe even the backseat of his truck. But neither option provided the sound insulation he needed to fulfill his raging desire. He’d need the privacy of their home and a TV turned all the way up to avoid disturbing the neighbors. 
The signal to leave came with a quick tap on Patrice’s hip in the middle of a spirited talk with her best friend, Vicky, about something he couldn’t care less about. 
“I guess that’s my cue, girl,” Patrice laughed, trying to play her role as the chatty wife being called away by her quiet husband. “Talk to you later?” 
Their exit featured hurried goodbyes and promises to return for the Christmas game night that they likely wouldn’t remember come daylight. Hands fumbled with keyfobs and door handles in their mad dash to somewhere a little more secluded. Blue lights from the dashboard reflected from Patrice’s glasses as they made out in front of their childhood friend’s house like maniacs, too intoxicated with lust to care if someone saw them from the open front door. 
One hand on the steering and the other middle and ring fingers deep in warm pussy had Terry breaking speed limits and running stop signs to turn a twenty-minute journey into ten if he were lucky. 
They didn’t waste time with light switches or picking up discarded clothing on the clumsy journey to the bedroom. A split second of clarity told Terry to flip on the lamp as Patrice made the descent to his dick one sloppy kiss on his chest and stomach at a time. 
“What you got for me?” 
More than he’d bargained for should’ve been the answer had she taken the time to use her mouth for anything more than making his muscled thighs tense like he’d been tased. 
With a pillow folded between her legs while she lay on her stomach and eyes looking up at Terry over the rim of her spectacles, Patrice put on an oral demonstration fit for a professional. Her glasses fogged from the cold air and steamy situation unfolding on their marital bed. 
The corners of her mouth stinging from the stretch of him and the ache building in her core kept her tethered to reality when she wanted to escape into the pleasure of seeing her man so vulnerable from her touch. 
He hissed and cursed as she ran a flat tongue on the underside of his dick. “Fuck, girl. I knew I’d get all of this up out you one day. Damn…” 
Gobbsmacked. Astounded. Sucked into oblivion. Terry had transcended time and space once Patrice made a home for him at the back of her throat over and over again. Spit coated her hands, chin, and his lap while she focused on leaving him too stupefied to utter anything that had more than one syllable. She could’ve swiped every dollar from his wallet, bank account, and retirement fund and he’d still thank her for inviting him into her mouth. 
Low groans and rough requests for more sounded like applause as Patrice went to work on her lover. His approach to the mountaintop matched hers as she desperately searched for friction from the pillow below her. 
“Hell yeah, like that, baby. You know what you doin’. Shit.” Praise came in heeps. Her silk press had long turned into reigns for Terry to keep her head stable. Tears mixed with saliva for extra lubrication. She looked gorgeous under amber light to her husband. 
Up and down, up and down. Take it. Gargle it down. Breathe through your nose. Looping mantras played in her head as he took control to finish what she’d started.  
His release came in a photo finish. His toes curled from pure ecstasy. Body seized up in beautiful suspension, each bulging muscle in his arms and torso on display. Head thrown back to direct his loud moan to the ceiling. Eyeballs rolled behind fluttering lids. Kids drained down the hatch, never to reach their full potential. 
She cleaned up the remnants with her tongue, splitting her attention between Terry and the building orgasm as she swiveled her hips against firm cotton. He stared down at her, taking in the way her jaw dropped to form that ‘o’ he loved so much. Her brow furrowed once her teeth took hold of her bottom lip. 
“That feel good to you, baby?” 
“Mhmm.” Patrice tried to give a more accurate description of her mind state. All she could manage was a slurred hum in the affirmative while he watched her unravel at the seams without his help. 
“Show me. I wanna watch.” 
And watch he did. Dick in hand and back pressed against the headboard, Terry used his refractory period to watch Patrice turn his pillow into her personal fuck toy. Her hips bucked slowly under his attention while she searched for her first eruption. 
His stroke matched her movements blow for blow while she admired her lone audience member. Siren eyes and a confident smirk, hands kneading bountiful breasts, and his name rolling from her lips kept him engrossed in her one-woman show. 
The inevitable approached like a crashing wave against a calm shore. “Let me cum for you, Terrence. Can I do that? Tell me.” 
Patrice knew the trouble she’d started. Using his first name, and asking for permission, it was all to elicit the reaction Terry so eagerly provided. He scrambled to his knees for the chance to hover over her with his forehead pressed so tightly against hers that they shared pools of sweat. 
Intense blue-green eyes peered down at her, wordlessly edging her closer to paradise. 
“Nuh uh, eyes up here,” Patrice instructed when the view of quaking thighs and waxed lower lips became too distracting for Terry. “Tell me when, my love. I’m all yours.” 
Her voice climbed, sounding like a symphony to his ears. He waited and watched until she met the brink of too much stimulation. “Now. Right now.” 
A rush of emotions forever intertwining two bodies flowed between them through a kiss dominated by silky tongues and Patrice’s swallowed mewls. Terry had perfected the art of kissing. Knowing when to suck at her bottom lip, when to wrap his large hand around Patrice’s throat to keep her head angled upward, and when to pull away for other pursuits. 
Normally, hickeys were childish evidence of adult activities, but tonight they were trophies for a job well done. 
“I love you so much.” Even in furious fucking where feelings took a backseat to more carnal desires, Terry refused to miss an opportunity to utter his favorite phrase. He sucked a nipple into his mouth, letting his tongue trace the outline of her areola to his heart’s content before pulling away to show the other the same attention. He listened to her sigh and smiled. “I love the way you sound.” 
“What else?” 
A lick up her sternum before a kiss. “I love the way you say my name.” 
“Yeah?” 
“I love your body. You’re perfect.” An open-mouthed kiss at the base of her neck as he gripped her waist. “I love the way you take dick. Especially tonight. Think you can take some more for me, pretty?”
Like a magnet, Terry’s fingers found their way to Patrice’s slick inner lips as he gathered wetness to drag skilled digits around her clit. Her breath audibly hitched from the contact, making him chuckle with his lips pressed against her cheek. Slow circles, maddeningly slow and gentle enough to feel like nothing at all had her willing to agree to just about anything to get off.
“Whatever you say, baby.”
Terry didn’t say much. It wasn’t his nature. Only short, honey-sweet directions for Patrice to press her chest to crumpled sheets and spread her knees wide. He made it so easy to comply. So easy to contort herself into any position he wanted because she knew what awaited her on the other side. 
He had her at his mercy. Her sat ass high up in the air with her flower on display from a gloriously deep arch. Terry felt an animalistic switch flip to remind him of his promise. Pupils dilated and reinvigorated by the lewd image manifesting at his fingertip, he went to work. 
A relentless pounding. Punishing strokes that made the bed creak from the stress of it all. The sheer force knocked Patrice’s glasses askew without an opportunity for adjustment. She could only claw at the foot of the bed and push her hips back into his to match the rhythm. 
The sound of smacking skin and mixed moans created a soundtrack for rabid, desperate fucking. His thumbs left impressions on the delicate skin of her back, turning his knuckles white as he dug deeper. 
Patrice took every inch like only she could, earning a rough smack as appreciation. 
“That’s my girl,” Terry gritted through clenched teeth. “Stay with me. I feel you.” 
It was all too much. The angle. The vision of Terry’s chest clenching and releasing for exertion as Patrice looked back at him. The way his brows knitted in concentration. The scent of his cologne wafted with every move. His tattoos glistened under dim lights.
“Oh my God!” 
Early sparks of a white-hot release turned Patrice into putty, forcing Terry to hold her close. 
One hand between her legs and the other putting soft pressure on the sides of her neck kept Patrice and Terry tethered on their quest for joint waves.
“I love you.” 
“I need you.” 
“You feel so good inside me.” 
“Kiss me. Please.”
“Cum for me.”
Terry sank his teeth into Patrice’s shoulder as she clenched around him, no longer able to contain himself as she clenched around him. Shared euphoria. A once in a blue moon experience that neither of them had encountered. 
Moans became indistinguishable. Eyelids clamped shut as hips sputtered. Glasses tumbled from the bed to the floor, having served their purpose. Bodies wrapped themselves around the other until they were spent, toppled over, and basking in the feel of each other. 
“Good job, baby.” Terry praised, his voice soothing her mind while his hands rubbed the peaks and valleys of Patrice’s hips and thighs while they lay on their sides. He couldn’t bring himself to pull out, too engrossed in the subtle aftershocks deep inside her body. “You okay? Talk to me.”
Patrice breathed out a delirious laugh as she turned to look at him over her shoulder. “I can’t see! I can’t believe you fucked me blind. You’re insane.” 
“How much time you got tonight? I got some shit I been wanting to do to you for a long time.” 
“Like what?” 
Whispers of new positions and marathon lovemaking made the hairs on her arms stand at attention. A second promise had entered the mix. 
They’d make a baby or spend the rest of the night and into the morning trying. 
---
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