#black fanfiction writers

[thewavesofmel]

Can I just say how much I love and appreciate black fanfic writers?

You all are so talented, creative, and bring your writing to life in such an incredible way. I feel lucky to witness the writing you all share with everyone. As a fellow black fanfic writer, you all inspire me so much and help to give me the motivation to keep writing

And the black fanfic writers that write reader insert fics with a black reader? I love you all so much! As a black reader your reader inserts you all make me feel special, wanted, and SEEN

Black fanfic writers are awesome!

[uzumaki-rebellion]

The One That Got Away

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black Female OC

Warning(s): Angst, Explicit Sex, Sad Girl Romance, Break-Ups & Reconciliations

Summary: After globetrotting as a digital nomad for three years, Michaela Maxwell returns to her hometown and meets the man of her dreams in a soldier named Terry Richmond. The only problem is, dreams happen when one is asleep to the truth. In Michaela's case, she wakes up to the sad reality that Terry won't really be the happily-ever-after she desires if he cant let go of a past love.

Word Count: 9.5K

"Ladies and gentlemen, I'm gonna tell you 'bout

One of the many men, name is irrelevant, height is irrelevant

He was a one out of a ten, I wish that I knew it then

I'm still recovering

Truly, I'm vulnerable, I love a sentiment

Quickly I opened up, I learned my lesson then

Thought I was safe again, thought he was innocent

I was so wrong"

Raye – "Oscar Winning Tears"

He came back to his place later than she expected.

The Super Bowl had ended hours ago, and instead of hitching a ride back with his cousin, Terry had taken a Lyft. She waited for him in his apartment dressed in a sexy strawberry colored push-up bra and thong set.

Lounging on his bed, she listened to him use his key to get in and his cell rang. He answered, but it was difficult to make out exactly who called him. His voice sounded tired, and he ended the conversation with, "We can talk tomorrow."

He dragged into the bedroom, and his eyebrows rose.

"Surprise," Michaela said.

Her boyfriend of nearly a year stared at her and smiled. But the smile didn't reach all of his face. Especially his eyes. He recovered quickly though, and took off his Eagles football jersey, jeans, and the rest of his clothes. Climbing into the bed next to her, he admired her underwear and rubbed on her booty absentmindedly.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"The Eagle's lost."

"Aw, sorry babes."

"Maybe next year we'll get that ring."

His voice sounded sad, but not because of the football game. She stroked the perfect waves in his hair and kissed his luscious lips. He held her, and his affections turned to nibbling on her ear.

She didn't know it was the beginning of the end.

Michaela Maxwell spent three fruitful years traveling the globe as a digital nomad, creating content for three travel websites while also house-sitting in exotic locations such as Costa Rica, Mallorca, and Belize. By the time she returned to her hometown in Louisiana, she was ready to settle down in a familiar place for at least a year before she was ready to fly the coop again.

Her parents loved this of course, and her mother, a choir director, even got her back to church singing. She found a tiny studio apartment that would allow her to coast financially until she was ready for more travel.

Standing in line at a Starbucks, she fingered the silver compass necklace her father gave her when she first left the country after graduating from college. On the back of the necklace, he had a Henry Miller quote inscribed for her, "One's destination is never a place, but a new way of seeing things."

She ordered a slice of lemon pound cake and a matcha green-tea latte, and when she tapped her phone against the scanner to pay, the app didn't work. Trying again and failing, her jaw tightened. She had no cash or cards because she hadn't taken a purse with her when she went out to jog that morning. Now she was holding up the line.

A large hand reached forward, holding a debit card toward the cashier.

"I got it," a deep tone said.

Michaela glanced at the face attached to the hand and let out a breath.

The sexiest-looking man she had ever seen in the states for a long time stared back at her with a grin. He wore military fatigues and had the lightest eyes whose color she couldn't discern in the light. They could've been green, or gray…maybe even blue if she squinted.

"I left my house without my purse," she said.

It was obvious from her skin-tight mint-blue jogging outfit and smartphone in hand that she had nothing else to pay with.

"If you hang here for a minute, I can get you the money."

"Don't worry about it. Pay for someone else next time," he said.

"Thanks a lot."

Michaela moved down to the waiting area for her items and watched the stranger order strong coffee and a danish.

That's how she met Terry Richmond.

On a clear spring morning, with her long hair freshly cornrowed in six braids down her back and decorated with six huge silver hoops, she left Starbucks with a smile on her face, thrilled there were some good-looking men in town.

It was only six degrees of separation, meeting him again at a barbecue. Her close friend Sandra dated a guy named Mike, who was Terry's cousin.

"Matcha green-tea latte," he said, showing her pearly whites near a food table where guests piled on fried fish and pork ribs.

They only spoke to each other the entire time and exchanged numbers when the sun went down. For the first month, it felt like a whirlwind of dates getting to know each other.

As a marine stationed nearby, he trained soldiers in specialized martial arts and other combat techniques. It afforded him the ability to stay close to his family. Their dates consisted of nice dinners, movies that she wanted to see, and long romantic drives in the country. He was smart, attentive, and a skilled conversationalist. Fascinated with her travels, he spent hours listening to her talk about rainforests in Central America, parasailing in the Caribbean, and nightlife in Spain.

In their second month of dating, he found a new luxury apartment to move into, and Michaela helped him pick out furniture and decorated it with an international flourish. Their friend groups began to overlap, and that's when Michaela suspected him of getting more serious about their relationship. His male buddies adored her, often insisting that she join them on their male outings to bars to watch sports, and to go fishing on a boat one of them owned.

There came a time when she spent more hours in the day at Terry's place than her own studio apartment. He dropped hints of being open to moving in together. Even gave her shelf space in his bathroom cabinet. The apartment had two bedrooms, and he offered the unused one as her temporary office to work on her new venture as a house sitting expert. It was his way of keeping her close to him without rushing her.

His place had a pool, state-of-the-art gym, and a nature walk trail perfect for early morning jogs. Michaela only wanted to date and have fun with Terry. Nothing too serious. She had more traveling to do and different parts of the world to see still. The pressure of a serious relationship was too heavy to pick up at that point in her life.

By then, they started sleeping together regularly, at least three times a week.

The first time they made love, a company had just delivered Terry's brand-new bed, and she had bought him designer sheets as a housewarming gift. They were oyster-blue with an outrageous thread-count that made them buttery soft. She helped him make the king-size bed up with a new blanket and goose-down pillows. They both jumped on the bed and marveled at how comfortable it was. That's when he turned to look at her. Her hair cascaded across her arm and he stroked it like it was expensive silk.

"You are so beautiful, Michaela. What would I do without you in my life?"

Her heart did a happy dance in her chest, and he leaned over and kissed her lips. He undressed her with his eyes first, and her body went limp from the searing gaze of lust that drenched her skin with desire. Terry dragged his index finger up her arm and she would've sworn on a bible that her flesh burst into flames the way he sparked her nerve endings. To have him look at her that way again for the first time!

They'd fooled around before.

Long, slow kisses for hours. Heavy petting. Jerking him off in his two-year-old Honda Civic. Going all the way was inevitable after their first month of sexual touching. They came close once at her place while watching a basketball game. She sat next to him on her couch in a pair of stretchy shorts and he fingered her slowly during commercial breaks, edging her until she nearly peed on herself. Her swollen labia melted under his fingertips and by the time he inserted his digits, moving them slowly in and out, she had tears in her eyes. She turned into a soggy noodle pressed into him. His fingers rubbed on her clit in gentle circles, bringing her orgasm to a raging explosion that had her entire frame throbbing in release. She scooted out of her shorts and panties, only to be disappointed that he didn't have condoms on him. Mentally kicking herself for not re-upping her personal stock after her Gulliver's Travels gallivanting the world, Michaela had to settle for him eating her pussy on the couch, her legs casually thrown over his shoulders and those seductive green eyes daring her to cum in his mouth and all over his lips. She rolled over and tooted her ass out, and Terry licked everything from behind, glossing his full lips until she came again, screaming into the couch cushion.

Their first time was magical in his bed.

"Why are you so wet?" he whispered in her ear.

He lowered his face to her breasts and sucked each nipple until they became perfect pebbles for his tongue to titillate further. His pretty caramel skin looked like a creamy topping against her cherry-brown color.

Returning home had taken an adjustment she hadn't expected, and having Terry in her life smoothed the tensions of small-time life. She'd outgrown her place of birth. He allowed her to tolerate it. Living outside of America showed her its obvious deficits, and Terry reminded her of the good things it still had available…like family.

Michaela grew closer to her parents, especially her father, and re-connecting with childhood friends grounded her to familial life. Singing solo gospel songs in church also brought her back to a spiritual side she'd neglected since leaving home. She started thinking about her future away from traveling, and Terry gave her other fleeting thoughts, too. Like what having companionship with one partner would be like over a length of time in one place. Michaela wasn't itching to settle down, but life handed her the man of her dreams, and it was hard to view Terry as anything less than the best boyfriend she'd ever had.

He still had four years to go before he could leave his military contract, and Michaela imagined taking him to all the places she shared with him through stories and pictures. The hard part of waiting was watching the growth of her business. She wanted to put together two conferences, one in Costa Rica and the other in Spain. That meant time away from Terry to plan and execute. She started getting calls from a travel collective in the U.K. that asked her to be a keynote speaker at a digital nomad event at the end of the year. More time away from Terry.

His kisses strayed down her neck, and she sighed.

"So wet…" he murmured, licking the hollow of her belly button and trailing down between her thighs.

He catered to her clit like it was a queen on her little throne. For what seemed like a teasingly long time, Terry ate her out until her legs shook and she whimpered, "I want more."

She rubbed on his hair, and he left her side to dig his hand inside his nightstand. The gold foil condom ripped easily. He rolled the prophylactic down his girth, pinching the top. She widened her thighs, and he nestled against them, his tip resting at her slick entrance. He kissed her while pushing inside, and they locked eyes. The intensity of their gazes brought forth laughter from both of them, and as he moved in and out, they laughed again at the joy of finally connecting through intercourse.

His dick stretched her out until her eyes wanted to cross. She arched her back to feel the muscles in his chest pressed against her breasts. Her nipples brushed against him, and he moaned at their softness. He lifted her right leg and sank in deeper. The slapping of their bodies created delightful sounds in the bedroom. Her pants and his deep groans in her ear took it to a new level of pleasure. There was no need to switch positions or try any tricks to impress each other. Their joining was enough, and her vaginal walls squeezed him unexpectedly, thrilling even her at the loss of control she experienced under him. She wrapped her legs around his hips, wanting him closer, yearning to keep him next to her like that for hours and hours.

"Shit," he groaned.

His hips pistoned, and the bed thumped under her. The headboard hadn't started smacking the wall yet, but it was close.

"Michaela…fuck…baby…"

He pushed her thighs back, his eyes glued to the sight of his dick taking her down thrust by thrust.

Their foreheads touched. He jammed his fists on the bed, giving her the fucking she deserved. She'd had lovers in every place she stayed overseas, but coming home to a southern man that shared the same culture was exquisite. Caressing his biceps, Michaela submitted to the synergy they created.

"You're beautiful. Look at you Michaela…making me feel so good."

If he talked her all the way through her orgasm, she wasn't aware of it. All she could concentrate on was his Siren eyes boring into her and the fullness of his dick taking her to greater heights physically. Her lips puckered and then she let out a cry as her walls clenched in rapid throbs around him.

"Ohhhhhh!" she shouted.

That's all it took for him to join her. She felt him pulsing inside of her. His body seized up and a loud groan roared out of him. He slammed a hand on the headboard and cursed above her face before grunting and crashing down on her.

She giggled, and he laughed out loud, his deep voice resonating around her like a cape of tenderness in their intimate moment.

Michaela had hoped to experience that type of lovemaking again after the Super Bowl game.

The day of the game she had an online panel to attend for her business coaching Black women to house sit around the world. She missed the Super Bowl game at his friend's house, but promised Terry she'd be at his place afterward to have a little party of their own. He didn't have to go to work the next day, and they planned to brunch and shop for a camping tent.

She pulled out her fancy underwear, plucked and shaved hair from her legs and private area, and prepared to put some sugar on his dick. It was supposed to be an unforgettable night in her mind.

Once he climbed into bed with her, she sensed a change in him.

Terry went through the motions of lovemaking.

It felt good, and she came hard on his dick with his fingers gently touching her clit. However, the passion wasn't at its zenith, as if his mind were elsewhere and not with her.

He fucked her from behind with long strokes, and after he came, he tied off the condom and kissed her forehead. Leaving the bed soaked in sweat, he took a long shower and she tucked the sheets under her chin and tried to fathom what had brought him to a place of disconnect.

They went to brunch at their favorite restaurant, and he picked at his food. Once they bought the tent he wanted, chats of planning a camping trip went by the wayside as he complained of a headache and went to bed to sleep off his unease.

She left his apartment and visited a girlfriend to not waste the rest of the day. Her schedule and his job kept them busy for two days. Until Terry called her to come back to his place before the weekend.

"I need to talk to you about something," he said.

She sat down on his couch, and he paced in front of her. Folding her arms across her chest, she waited for him to speak. He finally sat down next to her.

"My ex was at the Super Bowl party last Sunday," he said.

"Your ex…Eve?"

Michaela tilted her head with her lips already in a defensive pout. He dated Eve two years previously and broke up with her for reasons he never explained. It wasn't her business, so Michaela didn't care. They were getting to know each other, and she'd spoken about her past lovers, too. No big deal.

His eyes were shinier than normal, and her stomach bunched up in a single knot, already knowing the ending before he even foretold it.

"Yeah…it's been a long time since I've seen her…and we talked and …"

He couldn't keep eye contact and flexed the fingers of his right hand nervously. It scared her.

"And? Did you sleep with her or something? Is that why you came home in a Lyft instead of being dropped off by Allen?"

"No. I wouldn't do anything like that. We talked…the entire night."

"All night where?"

"At Dex's."

"Until one in the morning?"

"We weren't alone. Mike was there…a bunch of people stayed to hang out after the game. She and I talked outside in the yard."

"Okay…talked about what?"

Her voice sounded sharp, like broken glass. His eyes kept darting away from looking at her face.

"How we were both doing now. I didn't have to say anything about this, Michaela. I'm telling you because I trust you…I can confide in you about anything on my mind. I've done the same for you. I want to talk about this because it's bothered me all week…seeing her again. All kinds of emotions came back up that I wasn't prepared to deal with. It was the same for her, too. It's been two years and seeing her hurt me…"

He started leaking tears from the corners of his eyes, and Michaela couldn't move or say anything. The man she'd been dating for eight and a half months shed tears for another woman that he left behind.

He wiped his face and sat back on the couch. His eyes still captured her with their intense color. She exhaled and the pain in her stomach grew. Her voice came out shaky and unsure.

"Seeing her hurt you? Why? People run into their exes occasionally. You dumped her, so you weren't happy."

He nodded. His lips parted, and he wiped his face again.

"I wasn't happy. But I cared for her. Leaving wasn't easy for me…I didn't try harder to fix things between us. We weren't getting along and I ended it. That's it. I didn't know I would react this way after seeing her again. I needed to tell you so you'd understand why I've been so distant the past few days."

"Okay. I can understand that."

He reached for her hand and squeezed it. Before she could entwine their fingers together, he pulled away and closed his eyes. Eve really had him shaken up.

Michaela stroked his hair, and he stared at the ceiling, relaxing into her touches. More tears ran down his face like silent assassins to her heart.

"She told me she still loves me…misses me."

"What did you say to her?"

"I didn't say anything…I was surprised that she said that."

He finally looked at her. The tears on his face spoke for him.

Michaela bit her bottom lip and fought back the welling of water behind her eyes.

"You still love her?"

"I don't know what I feel…I'm conflicted."

"Conflicted about what? Do you want her back?"

"I don't know what I want."

"Terry, we've been dating for damn near nine months. I'm your girlfriend!"

"And I'm your boyfriend telling you what's on my heart and mind. I talked to my ex, and it affected me. I didn't sleep with her and we had no physical contact, if that's what you're really worried about."

"Yeah? Well, she got to you emotionally, and that feels like the same thing to me right now."

"I came home and made love to you, Michaela. If I wanted to fuck Eve, I could've done that and not said anything if I had that type of dog energy in me."

"Thank you for small favors, asshole!"

Michaela jumped up and grabbed her purse.

Terry tugged on her jacket sleeve and pulled her back toward him.

"Where are you going? I'm sitting here being honest with you about my feelings."

"Basically telling me I was a placeholder this whole time."

"We're having fun and enjoying each other. That's what you wanted, and that's what I want. I thought I could tell you everything going on with me, but clearly that was a mistake."

"Am I lacking something, Terry? Is that why you're so discombobulated with a woman that didn't make you happy?"

"You're perfect."

"Am I?"

"Michaela…please."

"So what now? Do we keep seeing each other or…?"

He stood once he noticed her eyes spilling tears of frustration.

"Michaela, I didn't tell you this to hurt you. I'm confused by all of this inner turmoil. I shouldn't be feeling like this, but I am. Can't help it."

"I don't want to be confused with you."

Terry hugged her and it felt icky. Like he was giving her a consolation hug as the loser. Instead of coming back to her on time, he stayed behind to talk with a woman who didn't see a future with him two years ago.

"Were you thinking about her while you were fucking me last Sunday?"

"Michaela, stop."

She pushed away from him. They faced each other with teary eyes and trembling limbs.

"Where does this go with us? Am I supposed to be with you while you sort out your feelings? Have you spoken to her since then?"

"We talked last night. Briefly. Less than five minutes. She told me it was good seeing me and hoped we could be friends again."

"Are you going to see her again?"

The sight of him blurred in her wet eyes. Her tears fell faster, and her mind couldn't process how to move forward.

"I made a mistake telling you."

"Terry…I'm glad you told me. It's a reality check. But I'm not a third wheel."

She expected him to protest and hug her again. If he had done that, she could've coped and pivoted to another way of handling her emotions.

But he didn't do that.

He stood there silently, his glossy eyes staring into a future without her by his side. The truth was so fucking obvious. Seeing Eve brought on regret for him. He never wanted to leave her.

In that moment, Michaela knew the pain flowing through her was because she loved him. She never said it out loud to him. She'd never been one of those women who fell in love easily. It was a slow trek for her to establish trust and intimacy, and she'd reached that stage with him when it was too late. The sting of losing his full, undivided attention to unfinished relationship baggage hurt. She'd lost him the moment he shared his truth.

"Maybe it's best that we postpone the camping trip this weekend. I have a lot on my mind, and you're busy getting your business up and running," he said.

"So you see your ex, talk to her again, and now our trip is cancelled?"

"Postponed. Not cancelled."

"Why?"

"I told you…I have a lot on my mind, and work is stressing me."

"A trip away is the best thing for stress. Tell me the truth, Terry. You want to think about her without me all up in your face—"

"I'm simply asking for space to think by myself without having to go anywhere or do anything."

"Think about what?! Either you want to be with me or her. Simple!"

He winced at her tone. Those beautiful eyes narrowed with irritation at the sound.

Michaela crumbled on the inside, but she kept her poise on the outside.

"Fuck you," she said.

She pulled his house key off her key ring and tossed it on the couch.

She didn't speak to Terry, nor seem him, for a month.

All of her social media blocked any contact dealing with him. She dropped him like a hot potato and kept it moving. No sense waiting around for him to give her a sad break-up chat of 'It's me, not you'.

His friends reached out, wanting to check on her and wondering why she wasn't around anymore. Terry's best friend Dex even drove over to see her, and she joined him for a coffee chat at the neighborhood Starbuck's, where she first met Terry.

She pumped Dex for information about Eve.

"They were engaged two years ago, and he broke it off."

"Engaged? He never told me that."

"He was embarrassed about it. His family spent a lot of money on their engagement party. Booked them an entire Paris honeymoon in advance. When he ended the relationship, they lost a shitload of money that he paid back."

Dex sipped on a berry refresher drink, his handsome looks attracting attention from bystanders in the coffee shop.

"Why did he leave her?"

"He told me she was immature. Narcissistic. He saw some other things he didn't like after her bridal shower that gave him doubts about them lasting as man and wife. I told him to break it off waaayyyy before he asked her to marry him, but he said he was in love and hoped she'd change."

"I guess she finally changed if he needed to talk to her all night after your party."

"I don't think she's changed at all. In fact, I suspect she only came around because of you."

"Me?"

Dex glanced about and leaned forward in his seat.

"Do you look at his social media? It's just photos of you two and him cheesing like he's won an Oscar for having the coolest girlfriend. Shit, I thought he was going to ask you to be his wife the way he bragged about you to us."

Michaela fiddled with the straw in her iced raspberry tea.

"I don't believe that."

"Eve sure did, because she swooped in on my party as a plus one. She loved him back then, of course, but why show up out the blue now? She saw those happy pictures and all thirty-two of his teeth grinning and didn't like it."

"She can have him because I don't care anymore."

Dex smirked.

"Do you love him?"

She closed her eyes. The first prick of tears spilled out.

"Aw, Michaela…talk to him. Let him know how you feel. He probably thinks you aren't serious about him because you didn't stay and fight for your shit."

"I shouldn't have to fight for him if I was already his."

She wiped the corners of her eyes with a napkin.

"That's not what I meant," Dex said. "Terry likes direct feedback. If you never told him you loved him, he's thinking you just want to keep the relationship casual. Exclusive for sure…but y'know…chill with no pressure."

"He never told me he loved me."

"Perhaps he was going off your vibes. The last woman he said 'I love you' to broke his heart. I'm not trying to make excuses for him, but he's been gun-shy with women. You're the first one he's brought out in two years. That makes you special. I know he showed you how he felt without saying it. If you tell him out loud, he'll snap to attention."

"He should've done it first. I don't want to look like I'm crawling back begging…"

Dex's cell rang on the table. He answered.

"Hey, speak of the devil. What's up, man? I'm chillin'…actually I'm sitting here with Michaela chatting at Starbuck's."

"Bastard!" she hissed.

"Alright, man," Dex said.

He tapped his phone.

"He's down the street and coming over to see you. Now's your chance to tell him how you feel."

Michaela jumped from her seat and cursed him under her breath.

"Being with him should've been enough for him to know. It goes both ways," she said.

"Okay, so you both fucked up by being quiet about the love part."

"Bye Dex."

Michaela shuffled out of the door, fumbling with her purse and jacket. Outside, she rushed down the street, only to see Terry strolling her way. She did a one-eighty in her stride and stomped away in the opposite direction.

"Michaela!"

He called out to her and dashed down the sidewalk to catch up to her. Her building was another block over.

"Wait up…I just want to talk to you."

"I don't want to talk, Terry. You should've come home to me, but you still wanted her. Dex told me you were going to marry her—"

"I was—"

"I don't like mess. I don't like exes showing up to throw a wrench in my relationship with you. I don't like that you never told me you loved me—"

"Can we talk inside?"

Seeing him rattled her. His gorgeous face had lines on his forehead from the stress of their uncoupling. Those green eyes threatened to weaken her if she didn't stay strong. The hurting in her chest never went away.

"Are you still talking to Eve?"

"Not really."

"Not really? Either you're talking or you're not."

"We've spoken a few times since you left me."

"Then there's nothing for us to discuss. You made a choice."

"I haven't done anything other than try to figure out why you can't…why you can't…."

"What? Spit it out, for God's sake!"

"I never thought you were this selfish, Michaela. You pretend to be this sophisticated world traveler and you can't even give me space to sort out my shit. I was this close to marrying someone I deeply loved, and it messed me up for a long time to let that relationship go. I beat myself up, wondering why I didn't communicate my unhappiness or frustrations to her sooner, and I promised myself that the next woman I got involved with would never have that problem. But you closed yourself off from me. My honesty hurt you. I can't change that. Running from me isn't going to fix us."

"What was there to fix, Terry?! We were doing fine until she showed up. There's no us if you keep talking to that woman."

"Why are you so threatened by her?"

"If you can't see why, I can't help you."

She pushed past him and headed for her secure building. His footsteps trailed after her. She ran inside her lobby after punching in the code. The heavy glass door slammed in Terry's face.

"Michaela, I did love you…I'm sorry I never said it…I love you…please. Talk to me."

"Go talk to Eve!"

His voice faded as she climbed the stairs to her studio.

Michaela co-chaired a conference in Costa Rica and rekindled her love of travel. A year after leaving Terry, she stayed busy expanding her venture as a self-employed entrepreneur. She found a luxury villa to house-sit for three months back in Mallorca and would use that time as a vacation and a chance to plot her next move.

First, she had to go home to see her parents for a week.

Winters in Louisiana were harsh, and she couldn't wait to get back to the Mediterranean climate she loved.

Sitting in her parent's cluttered dining room, she ate jambalaya, fried chicken steak, and cabbage croquets. She caught up with cousins and siblings and soaked up as much of Louisiana as she could.

She also had an obligation to go to church.

"I need you to cover for Marcus on Friday," her mother said.

"Friday? What's going on Friday?"

"A memorial service for one of our deacons in the church. Deacon Tolliver."

"What song?"

Her mother, Iris, marked a line under a note in her music book on the stand in front of their church's pulpit. The entire Baptist choir of eighty singers took a break to catch their breath.

"'Praise Him in Advance'. Marcus has a sore throat, and I know you got it down front to back. Can you help me with it, baby?"

"Sure."

Michaela took her place at the soloist mic and went through the song twice. It was a regular part of her mother's repertoire, so it wasn't a big deal practicing. Her tone of voice was just as good as Marcus' singing it.

After she finished, she stepped back into the choir pews and played her part with all the altos.

Her mind wandered as her mother's arms waved and dipped, guiding the rich voices.

Word on the street, according to her bestie Sandra — who still dated Mike—Terry went back to Eve about four months after Michaela left town. After hearing that, she made Sandra promise not to tell her anything about that man. He clearly chose who he really wanted, and she'd been correct in feeling like a rebound. Those tears he shed gave the performance of his life, and she was smart not to fall for it.

It tore her up inside knowing Eve was getting good dick, passion, and excitement all wrapped up in a Terry package. No more light-skinned niggas for her. Every single one she ever dated was a problem, and if they were pretty? Forget about it. She should've smacked the shit out of him when she had the chance. The saddest part for her was cutting off all contact with Terry's buddies. She genuinely liked them all. The man had an amazing circle of friends.

Sandra texted her about going out to a movie, and she accepted, only to find out it was a set-up with a co-worker of hers. It pissed her off to be ambushed that way, but Michaela sat through the "Wicked" musical because the man was cute. It became a no-go when he knew all the songs and sang them at the top of his lungs. A fucking theater kid…with great pipes, though.

The day of the memorial, she packed her suitcases with freshly washed clothes to be prepped for an early morning flight to Atlanta. She had a few more friends to see before she left the country again.

Dressed in a stylish indigo dress and her best heels, Michaela fluffed out her hair. She opted to tie it up high to give herself a little oomph. She switched out her hoop earrings for diamond studs and smoothed a fresh tube of bronze lipstick across her lips.

Riding over in her parent's car to church, she received an urgent text message from Sandra.

Michaela threw her phone back inside her purse. She pulled it back out, curious to know how Terry looked after all. Sandra wouldn't have to know she was peeking.

No.

Fuck him still.

But…

She scrolled the old people's social media. Facebook. Hopping onto Mike's page, she checked out his recent photos and found a group one posted six months after she left. Her heart fluttered seeing Terry in a fishing trip photo. He wasn't smiling with teeth, but held a crooked grin. Next to him, with her name tagged, was Eve.

Michaela enlarged the photo.

"She's not even all that cute," she grumbled.

"You say something, baby?" Iris said from the front seat.

"Talking to myself, Momma."

Eve was bottom heavy in her shorts and wore too much make-up for a fishing trip in the raging sun. Her twist out hair looked nice. She was nearly the same skin-tone as Michaela with a wide, flat face that reminded her of bread dough ran over twice with a rolling pin.

She wondered what went wrong this time. That thought paused her. What difference did it make?

It must have meant something because she thought about Terry while walking into the church, which someone had decorated with bright blue and white flowers. This wasn't a funeral, but a celebration of life. The sanctuary pews were slowly filling up, and Michaela followed her mother and the rest of the choir through a side hallway. They weren't wearing choir robes because the family requested they all don Deacon Tolliver's favorite color. All shades of blue surrounded Michaela. They looked like a pretty winter bouquet.

Her purse vibrated. She ignored Sandra's new message and silenced her phone with a quick swipe of her finger and hung up her coat. Pastor Greene looked out upon the flock and began speaking words of comfort as the choir waited to begin their processional from the side wing.

Would it hurt to see him? It had been a little over a year since she had flounced away from him. He could see how fabulous she looked and hopefully he'd regret losing her this time.

Michaela strode in from her position on the line and sang an upbeat song with the choir to stir up the congregation with feelings of joy and not sadness. Deacon Tolliver's family walked in as a large group down the aisle to take their seats in the front.

Michaela nearly fell over.

Terry walked solemnly behind the elderly Tolliver relatives dressed in a dark blue suit and tie. Ushers led them to their reserved rows, and he sat down next to some older women. He looked at the memorial program in his hand and glanced up to take in the flower arrangements and the size of the choir.

Michaela ducked her head down, hoping he wouldn't notice her. He didn't. The sopranos partially hid her on the side. The sea of blue helped camouflage her, along with holding the program directly in front of her face.

The pastor read a short scripture and then asked for the congregation to bow their heads in prayer. Michaela thought she could coast through the first half of the memorial, but the closer it got toward the choir singing again after heartfelt speeches from Deacon Tolliver's close friends, her stomach twisted in discomfort. She read the memorial program for the ninety-six-year-old deacon and learned that Terry was a great-grand nephew.

Her mother rose from her seat and stationed herself in front. Terry stared at Iris, and his expression changed from sadness to awareness. Those captivating eyes searched over each face in the choir until they rested on Michaela's as she stepped forward to sing for his great-grand uncle.

She prayed her throat wouldn't close up. The organ player tapped out the keys and the drummer gave a rousing introduction to her vocals. Michaela focused on Deacon Tolliver's widow and the memories of her husband's good work in the church. She had a job to uplift the family, even if one of them was her ex boyfriend.

"I've had my share of ups and downs…times when there was no one around…God came and spoke these words to me…praise will confuse the enemy…"

Deacon Tolliver's widow shouted "Amen!" and the choir brought up the rear, repeating what she sang in a powerful, harmonious sound that brought people to their feet.

Michaela relaxed into her vocal performance, letting the lyrics build up on their own, not doing too much as she led the call and response with the choir, her runs clean and touching hearts in the audience. She used her fingers to point on certain words at the family that held meaning to Deacon Tolliver when he was alive.

"That's when I praise him with my hands…"

Michaela hummed at the end of the line and raised her hands up, her eyes cast toward the stain-glassed depiction of a Black Jesus with his flock of sheep. As a child, Deacon Tolliver told her that Jesus was a rock she could depend on whenever she felt lost. He told her the same thing four years ago before she left Louisiana. She could almost feel his hand on her shoulder like back then, reassuring her about the path she was on. Funny how she ended up falling in love with his great-grand nephew.

Her eyes flicked over to Terry. He stood clapping his hands double time with the choir as she went up a notch to celebrate a good man who supported her call to adventure, even when her parents were worried about it. Hands were up in the audience and she heard shouts as the spirit came down on several people.

She brought the sound down softly and sang to the congregation like she was preaching the word and not just singing. Stepping down from the stage, she approached Mrs. Tolliver's frail form and held her hand, keeping her voice soft.

"Praise him, when things are good…praise him…trouble on every side…and when I'm broke…I will praise him…"

Mrs. Tolliver squeezed her hand and said, "Yes, God…praise him."

Michaela went down the family line to give the message of comfort, and the palpable feeling of love enveloped her. Faced with Terry up close, and knowing this would be the last time she would ever see him, she smiled and gave him some joyful notes that volleyed back and forth with the choir. His lips trembled, and he held steadfast, listening to her sing life into him and his family. She made her way back to the stage and put the cordless mic back on its stand, taking final direction from her mother as the band went off, creating a musical frenzy getting everybody charged up with emotion.

Back at her seat, she breathed in deeply, thankful that she got through the song and seeing Terry at the same time without bursting into tears.

"Nah, nah, Sister Michaela, come back, come back," the pastor said. "One mo' 'gin! I don't think they heard you!"

The band struck up the music again. The choir led her this time for another stirring reprise. Her voice soared over the church and even her momma jumped up and down, shouting. The entire church double clapped as she did a run of "ohs" that ended with a crescendo from the choir. Michaela felt touched by a higher power then, and shook her fists, feeling the spirit move through her. The choir connected her to the only thing that mattered in that moment: to love and be loved in return among her community. She shook her head, rooted to the floor, and another choir member helped her find her seat.

Iris led them through some classic gospel songs and threw in a few newer ones. Michaela sang and snuck glances at Terry who did the same. He pulled back his lips and gave her a smile that reached his eyes, and she did the same back at him.

The memorial ended, and the congregation headed over to the church-owned building next door where the repast was to be held. The food was buffet-style, and Michaela made herself a plate and sat with some church friends. Terry sat with his family on the other side of the room and she relaxed to eat and drink punch.

Eventually she mingled, sharing stories of getting in trouble at vacation bible school and Deacon Tolliver setting her straight.

"Michaela."

It was unavoidable.

Michaela inhaled and turned to look at Terry. His suit was perfectly tailored to his physique. His soulful gaze took her breath away again, and it was like being at Starbuck's that first time, hearing the robust sound of his voice. Her cheeks rose, lifted by the smile she tried to pull off, but she couldn't do it. Regret washed over her like a heat flash and her face grew warm. She didn't fight for him like she should've. She didn't support him with his jumbled feelings. Running off to Costa Rica had been her answer because she didn't want to hear him say he didn't want her anymore. Fear of abandonment caused her to react in a way that didn't help them overcome an obstacle.

"Sorry for your loss," she sputtered.

"Thank you. I'm sorry for a lot of things, too," he said.

Her eyes watered, but the tears held in place. He sensed the battle within to hold it together and looked around to see who could hear them. She blinked several times to clear her eyes. He'd led her to the punchbowl. Handing her a cup of punch, he sighed and moved closer to her so their conversation wouldn't be overheard.

Her heart thumped rapidly, being next to him, and her hands sweated. She wiped them against the cup of punch.

"Can we go outside? It's kinda loud in here," he said.

"Sure."

She pulled on her coat and grabbed her small purse to follow him out a side door. He held out a key fob. Tapping it, a maroon SUV chirped, and he opened a back door for her to get out of the cold.

They sat in the far back seats of the seven passenger vehicle. He tapped the fob again, and the engine came on, blasting much needed heat in the interior. Tinted windows prevented anyone from seeing directly inside. She took off her coat after the temperature grew comfortable.

"You look great," he said.

"You too."

"You sang like an angel. Uncle Bo would've loved it."

"Oh, he's heard me sing before. I didn't even know you were related to the Tollivers."

"On my father's side."

His eyes never wavered. There was a softness behind them that matched the tone of his voice. God had really broken the mold when he made Terry.

He glanced down at his hand near hers.

"I wasn't careful with your heart, Michaela. I'll never forgive myself for that. I loved you…still love you. When you left town, I thought you did what you needed to do. I dealt with that pain, even when you refused to accept my calls or attempts to contact you."

"Why did you go back to her?"

"You left, and she…gave me what I thought was a second chance. I couldn't get you back. You were worried about being a rebound, and that's what Eve became to me. She didn't feel right at all…nothing about her was different. We went out a few times to test the waters. Tried to be friends instead. Dex told me I was stupid for doubting myself about her motives for coming back into my life. The moment she learned you left the country, she turned right back into her vindictive, jealous self. I let her fool me into thinking I'd made a mistake about getting away from her. She played me. I paid a heavy price for it by losing you. I'm sorry for not listening or taking your apprehensions about it seriously. You loved me and I didn't…I lost the plot of us, Michaela. That's all my fault for thinking I knew better."

"I was scared. I met someone truly special, and I held you away from me because I didn't know if you felt as deeply as I did. I've been burned in the past enough times to be cautious," she said.

"Where does this leave us now?"

"I'm going back to Spain in two days. I won't return to the states for a while."

He nodded and glanced away from her face.

"I guess there's nothing more to say. We missed our chance."

The defeat in his voice broke her inside.

"Terry, I loved everything about you—"

He smothered her lips with his.

His hands cradled her face. The reunion of his mouth against hers made her swoon. She parted his lips with her tongue and he took advantage of the opening and swept his tongue around hers. Their passion for each other never left. It pleased her that Eve turned out to be exactly as Dex predicted. That woman didn't want anyone to claim Terry after her, and only popped out to sow confusion in him, knowing how vulnerable he'd been to end their engagement. He figured out her charade and dumped her again, making her a two-time loser. She also relished that Terry got what he deserved on a purely petty level. That flat-faced ex showed him for all time that he never should've considered her as anything less than a dodged bullet. But at what cost?

Their kissing aroused her.

Her panties dampened, and Terry started moaning into her mouth. She ran a hand down his chest and brushed her fingers across the bulge in his pants. So stiff.

He cupped a breast and squeezed, then groped a nipple, pinching it through her dress and bralette. She came undone by looking deeply into his eyes. Love stared back at her. Regret, too.

She gave him love with her mouth, sliding her tongue against his with slow, succulent kissing. Rubbing on his dick through his pants had him panting her name. He lifted her dress, and she helped him pull down her pantyhose. She kicked off her heels, knowing she had to have him. He unfastened his belt and lowered his pants and boxer briefs.

She climbed on top of him as he held his erection up for her to slide down. Her pussy swallowed his dick easily, and they both sighed loudly when she reached the bottom with her ass resting on his balls. They kissed again and Michaela bounced on his dick, her slickness pleasing him.

She clung to his neck, pressing her cheek to his and pounded on that thickness, making a wet mess in his lap. He grunted and held onto her ass cheeks. Unprotected sex was something they never indulged in, but there was always an exception to that rule for a desire that overpowered them both. A final fuck was very necessary.

"Fuck me…fuck me…fuck me…raise up, raise up…now drop it back down hard on that dick…yes! Just like that, Michaela…fuck me, baby. Fuck that dick…fuck it…fuck me…shit…that's your dick…."

The throaty moans into her neck heightened her pleasure to the extreme. His voice sounded deeper than it ever did, and it serenaded her grinding into him fast and furious. Her clit rubbed against his shaft and electrified her walls, sending tiny spasms of pre-orgasmic release. She reached behind and squeezed his balls.

"You're trying to make me nut all in this pussy. Aren't you?" he choked out.

"Yes!"

He moaned, helpless to stop himself.

"I'm 'bout to give you the biggest nut…fuck, Michaela…why you do this to me now?"

He whimpered as she went stupid on his dick. All he could do was hold on to her plump ass cheeks and go along for the ride. They both had nothing to lose. Their foreheads touched, and desperate breathy pants sent warm air across their lips.

"Take this thick creamy nut, girl. I'm gonna fill you up… right now…oh shit! I'm cumming…I'm cumming…..!"

Terry's body bucked, and he held her so tight against him. She couldn't breathe. She felt the swelling of his dick and the quick pulses as he eagerly spurt a hot nut inside of her. His erratic panting and the pressure of him squeezing her tight compelled her to let go. Her eyes rolled back as her pussy clenched like it would never let his dick go.

"Terry…oh, God!" she cried out.

"Damn…Michaela…you fucked the shit out of me!"

They laughed.

Their voices bubbled up, a shared release like the old days together. Except this time, his warm cum flooded her pussy.

"We're going to look a mess going back inside," she grumbled.

"I don't care," he huffed into her hair.

She leaned back and his eyes held more desire for her. The feline quality in them brought shivers, and she had to look away from the intensity. He kissed her, and she gave in again, allowing their tongues to make a pact she knew they couldn't keep. Not anymore.

When her legs started cramping, she lifted off of his dick and lap, falling back into the seat. Cum pooled out of her, wetting her inner thighs.

She pulled up her underwear and pantyhose. Slipped on her heels. He fastened up his pants, and they looked at one another with longing. Outside of the SUV, he helped her put on her coat. She closed it up tight and cinched it with the belt.

They returned to the repast. She hoped God and the church couldn't smell the sex on her. Now and then, she glanced over at Terry and they burst out laughing, unable to hide the awkwardness of being together like that in a church parking lot. She became bashful whenever their eyes met, his thick lashes so seductive with his eyebrow arched, watching her move around the space.

When her parents said their goodbyes to the Tolliver family as the repast wound down, she and Terry bid farewell with silent eye contact. She rushed out behind her mother, feeling a hitch in her chest and a lump growing in her throat.

The summer sun in Mallorca did wonders for Michaela's rich skin color.

She wore long slinky dresses and drank chilled gazpacho by the pool in the small villa she tended for a British family who went to Australia for a long winter holiday.

Peace and tranquility spoiled her. Part of her house sitting duties were caring for two rowdy Ibizan hounds that snoozed at the foot of her pool lounge chair, the heat wearing them out into quiet submission.

Her cell vibrated next to her hip.

She swiped, and her eyes lit up behind her big shades.

Terry sent her a picture of himself wearing the gold compass necklace she bought for him in a pricey Mallorca jewelry shop. She had it engraved and mailed it to him in time for his birthday two weeks ago. He'd been on her mind a lot after leaving home. Wistful days passed by as she pondered her horizon. But he was always on the fringes.

He had the nerve to wear a sweater with no shirt while sitting on the floor with his back against the wall and sunlight making him look like a movie star.

Michaela let her index finger hover above the smartphone keyboard. She grappled with what to say. Touching her own compass necklace, she read the words her father put on it again.

"One's destination is never a place, but a new way of seeing things."

Under a Spanish sun, Michaela Maxwell decided to trust with an open heart. Her fingers flew across the keyboard.

Taglist:

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[samwilsonsbabymama]

I sure hope this means that the Black Panther fandom will rise again to what it was before. I miss yall so damn much. I hope yall come back 💖

[grimmsbride]

▒ ❀ ̭͡⠀ ❛Blackout. Mohawk! Mark

summary.. you thought you had found some alone time with you, and your mighty little vibrator. but of course, all fun is always short-lived

tags.. canon-divergence (i have never written for mark or any of his variants nor have i read the comics, so, mohawk will be a little ooc and i apologize for that. also this ofc doesn’t really follow the plot of his dimension) / rough sex / overstimulation / he’s lowkey a dick / multiple orgasms / lowkey pain kink / reader is into everything ofc / light use of pet names / unrealistic descriptions of sex(?) /

authors notes.. i want to start writing for invincible and truthfully this is the first thing that came to mind. between mohawk mark and cap(?) mark, they will be written for the most cause imo they are the finest 😔. also please excuse any typos or grammar mistakes.

The mental checklist cycled through your brain quickly as your eyes peered about your room. Door locked? Check. Music playing from your tv a little too loud? Check. Your fully charged, pretty blue vibrator waiting patiently on your bed? The final and most important check of all. Between work, school, and juggling a relationship with your beloved boyfriend; finding time for self-pleasure was like trying to find a needle in a haystack. Of course, most of your sexual needs were satisfied by your partner— however, there was nothing like taking the time to yourself, easing towards your orgasm in solitude.

You tugged the bottoms you wore down, thumbs hooking onto the elastic of your panties in the process. In one fluid motion you tossed them off your body and onto the ground, dropping to your bed back first with excitement brewing deep within your tummy. You reached down for the little vibe, examining the hollow opening that allowed the most perfect suction.

You remembered getting the device randomly one night, even paying extra for expedited shipping— a clear indication of your own desperation.

A finger flicked out to press against the button, holding it for a moment before the little toy revved to life. Little, yet so powerful; varying in several modes that tailored to your needs perfectly.

You always started slow, lowering the vibe to your breast and allowing the suction to flutter over your nipple— it slowly hardening from the attention. Your lips parted, along with your legs, allowing your free hand to lower to your folds, petting the soft skin slowly. A breath escaped as that familiar feeling danced across your body, warming you up inside at a gentle pace.

You spread yourself open, lowering a finger over your bud and slowly rolling it into tight circles. Your hips instinctively caught onto the rhythm, twitching at every special turn of your finger pad on your sensitive clit.

Soon enough you were growing impatient, knowing at any moment family could knock at your door for some random inconvenience. With that said, you lifted the toy from your breast, lowering it down between your legs. It always took a moment for you to align the hole with your clit, eyes squinting as if trying to visualize the perfect angle.

But the moment you got it, the moment you felt those delicious vibrations right against your sensitive bud, you let out the softest moan, legs opening more as the pleasure grew.

Your finger pressed into the button, amping the power up to its second level, strong vibrations thrumming right against your clit. Your legs began to squeeze shut, hurried breaths falling from your lips as you began to etch closer to your orgasm.

You wanted to personally thank whoever thought of vibrators. As pathetic as that sounded..

Your head knocked back against your pillows, the tightening cord in your stomach nearly snapping when a familiar sound entered your ears.

“Babe, oh man— I gotta tell you what this gu—..”

In a flash you felt that pleasure melt from your body, your eyes peering open to spot your one and only Markus Grayson standing in your bedroom in all his glory. His glory being that godforsaken supersuit and the stupidest grin on his features.

Which only seemed to deepen the moment his eyes trailed down your body.

Curse you for forgetting to close and lock your window.

“What’s this?.. Having fun without me?”

You opened your mouth to speak, yelping as wind flew past you far too quickly. Mark was a blur for a moment before he stood still beside your bed, currently inspecting something in his hand.

You quickly realized that it was your vibrator, under his inspection.

“The fuck is this..”

“It’s—“ You moved to your knees, reaching out for it, only for him to hold his hand higher, cackling to himself. You gave an aggravated huff, hands dropping to your thighs.

“— a vibrator.. It’s a vibrator.” You murmured, trying to ignore the tinge of shame invading your form. Of course, the two of you have talked about masturbation, but toys were a different story. You’ve heard plenty of horror tales of men growing angry at their women for using them in the first place.

All that ego man stuff.. blah, blah, blah. And as much as you loved Mark, he was a man.. with a ridiculously big ego.

Your eyes slowly trailed up his body back to his face, watching the way an unrecognizable glint developed in his dark eyes. His gloved fingers tapped against the toy, fiddling with the settings, turning it off and on completely.

“A vibrator huh?..” Mark hummed, more to himself than you, gaze switching between the vibe and your features for a moment before a devious smirk pulled his lips.

Before you could think Mark was moving closer, using a hand to push you back onto the bed whilst the other went for your legs, tugging them open.

“Let me try.” The grin on his face deepened, reaching down with the toy towards your center. Clumsily, he forced the hole upon your swollen clit, eyes flicking back to your features as he amped up the vibrator.

Your hands clenched, lips parting once more to release a sharp moan. You weren’t alone anymore, released from the mercy of slowly building yourself up. No, Mark had selected one of the highest setting without a care, pressing it right against your already sensitive clit. Your legs threatened to close, hands falling to the bed and gripping your bedsheets tight.

“Ma—mark.. baby please— turn it down..” You whined out, gasping the moment you felt him twist the toy a little, the vibrations hitting your swollen bud at a different angle. Droplets of arousal trickled from your hole that fluttered around nothing, sliding down to your taint.

“Aww.. can someone not handle the little toy?” Mark mocked, twisting the little machine once again and giggling to himself at the high-pitched moans that escaped you. He rose himself high, face hovering close to your own whilst resting on a forearm.

“C’mon baby, you’ve had bigger! Don’t wimp out on me now.”

You couldn’t even dare to reply, far too focused on that band ready to snap in your stomach. Struggled gasps and moans continued to escape, as your legs tightened around his arm— as if trying to decide to push him away or keep him there.

Your decision was null the moment you came, hips rising into the air as you made a mess of his hand and your beloved toy. Your stomach ached, clit feeling raw from all the attention. Your body rested back onto your bed, attempting to calm yourself after your release.

Only to realize the vibrator was still stuck securely to your clit, not having moved an inch despite your orgasm.

You quickly back to fuss, reaching down at your partner’s wrist whilst a strangled, “Ma—mark, let me breathe..” escaped you.

But he didn’t budge, even pulling himself back to his haunches, keeping his one hand steady on the toy whilst the other went for your wrists, securing them into a tight single-handled hold right against your stomach.

“Oh, [Name], I’m not done. I wanna see what else this little thing can do.”

With two more presses, the vibrator was now thrumming at its highest setting, the sound of it on your sloppy cunt nearly echoing over your music— second to the whines and moans that you released.

Your mind was going blank, the pleasure teetering between bliss and pain in one fluid motion. Unlike the Viltrumite before you, you were only human— your stamina not being able to keep up at all. It was growing torturous the longer the toy played at your clit, yet you couldn’t escape. Even as you attempted to move your hands, Mark wasn’t budging an inch— nor was he fazed by the twitching of your legs, eyes so trained on your pussy he was currently tormenting.

It’s not as if Mark had an issue with you using the toy. Not at all, he found it quite amusing actually; you attempting to find pleasure in such a measly device— that couldn’t even began to compare to him at all. It was truly entertaining watching you struggle to keep yourself together, your moans and cries for mercy music to his ears after an already eventful day.

The man had things to share with you, like some idiot that tried to attack him from behind— however that could wait, until after he was satisfied with examining the limits of this little device.

“Such a fucking mess, you’re ruining my gloves, babe.” As cocky as ever, voice clear and loud so you could hear through the blur of your mind. You wanted to cuss at him, maybe tell him to fuck off and wipe that little smirk off his face. But you couldn’t— physically anyway, given any words were turning to jumbled mush that the man couldn’t make out.

Mark even had the nerve to tilt his head, pushing his ear a little closer towards you.

“Huh? What? You say something— I couldn’t hear it over all that moaning and whining of my name.”

If your hands were free you would smack him, but now you could only whine louder, trying your best at an annoyed pout, eyebrows clenched close together.

Mark quickly caught on, laughing to himself as he slowly moved the vibrator in circles on your clit, watching that anger dissolve from your face so quickly. Your eyes were glossy at this point, even rolling back to meet your skull as the pleasure thundered through your body.

And as quickly as it started, your second orgasm came even quicker; erupting from your body in shaky spasms. Your voice was etching on hoarse at this point, seeing white for a moment as you came undone so harshly it began to ache.

Your lover let out a boisterous sound, eyes trained on your messy cunt, your arousal trailing down to the bed, making a little pool of slick.

You panted heavily, struggling to keep your eyes open as they slowly lifted to Mark.

“Mark..” You were able to release, attempting to move your arms again, only to feel his hold tighten. You cried out, wiggling about in desperation.

“Ma—mark! Turn it off— fuck!” Tears of overstimulation were threatening to spill at this point, and in one swift motion you somehow were able to flip onto your stomach, scooting away from the man quickly.

Your face pressed against the bed for a moment, before turning to the side, releasing heavy breaths as your heart pounded against your chest. So focused on calming down, you couldn’t hear anything behind you at all.

Not the sound of Mark chuckling to himself.. his hands moving against his body, or even his clothes falling to your carpeted floor.

You hadn’t realized a thing until a familar hand was locking around your ankle, basically dragging you towards the edge of the bed and up onto your knees.

You rose to your hands, mouth open and ready to practically yell at him until you felt two things. His length prodding at your entrance, and that blasted toy finding your abused clit once again.

In one swift motion Mark was thrusting inside, leaving you unable to adjust with the vibrations buzzing against your swollen bud. Your hands nearly give out, nails digging into the fabric as tears began to stream down your chubby cheeks.

You could no longer form a single coherent sentence, voice switching between hurried gasps and a mush of his name, tangled with the loudest moans. Soon enough you felt his hips move, a bruising pace being set inside you, with little care for your overly sensitive pussy.

You felt Mark move, coming to rest his chest against your back whilst wrapping his arm around your body, leading his hand to gently grab your face— a completely contrast to how he has been ruining you for the past forty-five minutes.

“What a crybaby.. can’t even think straight can you, huh?” His lips pressed right up against your ear, hips flicking back and forth as he fucked you with no remorse. The corner of his mouth twitched, truly entertained by your reactions. The sweet wails you were releasing, the way your pussy clenched and clenched around his length, and how shaky your entire body was overall.

You sniffled and whined, hearing your love cooe as he slid his thumb over your skin. Once again, the only gentleness he’s shown you since he flew in.

“Feels good, doesn’t it? All this attention you’re getting, greedy little pussy..” Mark began to drill into you, now being the only thing keeping you sitting upright at this point. “Can barely handle me, yet you go out and buy this toy— isn’t that funny, baby? Hm?”

The man spoke to you so easily, fully expecting you to reply to the best of your ability. But you were only releasing whimpers, completely lost to the feeling that flipped between pain and pleasure.

Mark chuckled at this, pressing the toy just a bit harder against you.

“Guess you’re too fucked out to speak, huh?”

That was an understatement, truly. The word itself didn’t exactly describe how you felt. Your entire body was trembling, the two sensations of his dick and your toy eliminating any logical thinking inside your brain. You couldn’t care less about being too loud for your family or even neighbors, no, your entire focus collected into a single point, the orgasm that was rushing towards you extremely fast.

A mix of encouraging words and mockery was being purred right into your ear, followed by quick laughter with every cry you let out. Mark always enjoyed pushing your limits, especially in the bed room.

You were human, sure, but he didn’t care. He simply loved watching you struggle to keep up with anything he did, acting so cruelly only to praise you later on. A never ending cycle that he didn’t plan to change anytime soon.

“Clenching me like a fucking vice, you’re about to come aren’t you?” He questioned, fucking into you so deeply, his tip prodding against that spongy spot that caused stars to intrude your vision. The man listened to your whine, deciding to take it as approval to his previous question.

Mark grinned to himself, pulling back and allowing your body to land on the bed. Instead his free hand gripped your hip lifting you just enough to drill into that same spot perfectly.

“Go on then, come— soak the sheets while you’re at it.”

Your fingers dug into the bed, reduced to babbles as your sheets became soaked from your arousal, sweat, and tears. With blurry vision and muffled hearing you came undone, a prolonged bellow of his name escaping your aching throat. You jerked and jolted, making a mess of his cock and the bed beneath— just like he hoped.

The man’s hand smoothed across your ass, clearly soothing you as those sweet praises from his lips, continuing to chase his own orgasm. Moments passed before his hips stuttered, his load spilling into you, some trickling out from your stuffed hole.

You breathed heavily, feeling your body relax the moment the man pulled out and removed the still buzzing vibrator from your clit. You melted into the bed completely, caring less for the smell of sex and soaked blankets beneath you. Your legs trembled from the aftershocks, eyes closed as you attempted to catch your breath— and with that being your entire focus, you basically jumped out your skin the moment Mark’s hand fell to your thigh.

The man laughed, smoothing his fingers across your heated skin.

“Relax, I’ve finished my little test.. for now.”

“You’re..” You struggled to say, moving your head a little to glance back at your boyfriend. “— such a dick.”

The man grinned back at you, hands gliding up to your ass to grip whilst coming to hover over you, planting a kiss against your shoulder.

“I know. And I���m gonna be an even worse one the moment you catch your breath.”

[k1tk4ttt]

when you just finished one of the most beautiful fics ever written and you see that the author has a masterlist full of other fics

[innorality]

you find their dickpic in your camera roll

contains : gojo, geto, toji (nothing too crazy just suggestiveness lol) also this is very lazy sorry guys,,,,,,

[nyxunderwood]

there is no better feeling than converting a complete stranger to your favourite rarepair ship. welcome to a life of suffering and deprivation, my friend. this must be what cult leaders feel like.

[greengoblinswifey]

Reunited— Luigi Mangione x Fem!Reader

summary— You’re reunited with your boyfriend luigi and he shows you just how much he missed you.

warnings— fingering, slight voyeurism, oral(f!receiving) praise kink, bit of crying but luigi comforts you, L bombs, unprotected sex, breeding kink, creampie, aftercare, fluff.

a/n— originally posted on my ao3, where there’s another luigi fic <3 FREE MY MF MAN!

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿

Luigi Mangione was not just another face in the crowd, he was a polarizing figure. He gained national attention after allegedly carrying out a calculated act of vengeance against a corrupt CEO you couldn’t care less about. He claimed his actions were a response to widespread exploitation and inequality in the healthcare system and you were 100% on board.

After leaving behind a manifesto that exposed systemic greed and corruption, he disappeared, sparking an instant nationwide search. Supporters hailed him as a modern day vigilante, while detractors condemned him as a criminal. You were by his side through it all, not only as his girlfriend but as his confidant and staunchest ally.

You had met Luigi three years ago at a charity gala. While his presence was understated, his charisma was undeniable. You had a passion for uncovering the truth and you were drawn to his fiery intellect and his conviction to make a difference. When he confided in you about his disillusionment with the corporate world and his dream to spark real change, you stood by him, even as the risks escalated.

When the authorities finally caught him, it shattered your world. Luigi was supposed to be halfway across the country by then, safe and untouchable. But fate had other plans.

After days of navigating legal hurdles, your boyfriend was granted bail thanks to the efforts of the legal team you assembled and the donations pouring in from his legion of supporters. The day you picked him up from jail was a whirlwind of emotions. Crowds of people gathered outside the facility, holding signs and chanting his name. The media swarmed like vultures, cameras flashing as Luigi emerged, his posture unyielding despite the chaos.

The car was parked a block away, avoiding the thick of the chaos. As he stepped out, the crowd screamed. He lifted his hand in acknowledgment, his voice cutting through the noise.

“Read the manifesto,” he said, his tone commanding yet calm. “The answers you seek are in there.”

The crowd erupted, some cheering, others debating. But Luigi didn’t linger. He moved toward you, his gaze softening the moment he saw you waiting.

The lawyer drove the two of you to a safe house on the outskirts of the city. You couldn’t take your eyes off him, noticing the tension in his shoulders and the faint bruising along his jawline.

“Baby, did they hurt you?” you asked, your voice trembling.

He exhaled, brushing your concern aside. “Nothing I couldn’t handle. I’m just angry they didn’t let me speak.”

You reached for his hand, lacing your fingers with his. “They’ll hear you soon enough. You’ve already started something they can’t ignore.”

His eyes softened as he turned to you. “I missed you,” he murmured, his hand finding your thigh. “Every damn second I was in that shithole.”

You smiled, leaning closer. “You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

He kissed you deeply, his hand tightening its grip. “You’ve been my anchor through all of this. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

The car ride felt impossibly long as the reality of the situation weighed down on you. You kept glancing at Luigi, his sharp profile shown by the fleeting city lights. Despite the calm mask he wore, you could see the exhaustion in his eyes.

You reached over, your fingers brushing his arm. “I was so scared for you,” you whispered, your voice breaking. Tears began to spill before you could stop them.

Luigi turned to you immediately, his expression softening. “Don’t cry, amore. I’m here now,” he murmured, pulling you closer. He pressed a series of tender kisses to your cheeks, wiping away the tears with his thumbs.

“It’s just so unfair,” you choked out. “The media, the critics—they don’t know you like I do. You’re not some monster. You’re brave, kind, and caring. You only wanted to help people.”

He cupped your face, his gaze locking with yours. “Let them say what they want. I don’t need their approval. I have you, and that’s all I care about.”

You leaned into him, his words wrapping around your heart like a balm. “I just don’t want to lose you again.”

“You won’t,” he promised, his voice low and steady. “No one can keep me from you.”

As the car drove deeper into the night, Luigi’s hand found its way to your thigh, his touch warm against your skin. He glanced down at your dress, his lips curving into a sly smile.

“You look so sexy in this,” he murmured, his voice a husky whisper. “Did you wear it for me?”

“Yes,” you admitted, heat rushing to your face.

He chuckled softly, his fingers tracing circles on your thigh. “Good. Because it’s driving me crazy.”

He leaned closer, his lips brushing against your neck. You shivered as he placed a trail of slow kisses along your skin. “You smell amazing,” he murmured against you.

His hand slid higher, and when his fingers brushed your bare pussy, he froze for a moment before letting out a low, appreciative moan. “You’re not wearing anything underneath?” he asked.

You shook your head, your breath hitching.

“Naughty girl,” he whispered, his voice laced with both amusement and desire. His fingers trailed to your clit, the heat of his touch making you bite your lip to keep from making a sound.

“Luigi,” you whispered, your voice trembling with both anticipation and the need for discretion.

“Shh, amore,” he said, his lips still pressed to your neck. “Be good for me. Stay quiet.”

His fingers moved with purpose, his slow circles on your clit sending your nerves into a frenzy. “You’re so perfect,” he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. “I missed this, missed you.”

The car hit a bump, jolting you both, and you bit back a gasp as he slipped a finger into you immediately, your hand gripping his arm tightly.

Up front, the lawyer cleared his throat, oblivious. “Almost there,” he said.

Luigi smirked, his fingers still working their magic. “Good. But not soon enough,” he whispered, his lips brushing your ear as he praised you softly.

His touch became more deliberate, his fingers moving in a way that left you struggling to suppress your reactions. His gaze flicked up to yours, a teasing smirk playing on his lips.

“You’re doing so well for me, amore,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “I can feel how much you missed me from how wet you are.”

Your breath hitched as he praised you, his movements precise and slow, building that feeling inside. He kissed the side of your neck again, murmuring against your skin, “I love seeing you like this, knowing I’m the only one who can make you feel this way.”

You buried your face in the crook of his neck, biting to suppress your moans as his fingers curled inside you with his thumb rubbing your clit.

“I can’t—” you breathed, biting your lip to quiet yourself as your orgasm built.

“Cum for me, beautiful,” he whispered, speeding up his movements.

You bit onto his shoulder, using your other hand to pull him onto you as your orgasm ripped through you like a knife. You really hoped the seats weren’t messy.

The car slowed as it neared the safe house, and Luigi reluctantly withdrew his hand, his eyes dark with unspoken promises. “Just wait til’ we’re inside,” he said softly, his fingers brushing your chin as he gave you a quick, knowing smile.

His lawyer parked the car in front of the nondescript safe house, stepping out to hold the door for both of you. Luigi exited first, straightening his suit jacket before reaching for your hand. “Thank you,” he said curtly to the lawyer, who nodded and drove off into the night.

The moment you were inside, Luigi shut the door, locking it and turned to you, his expression filled with an intensity that took your breath away.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he said, his voice rough as he pulled you close. His hands framed your face as he kissed you deeply, his body pressing you back against the nearest wall.

“Lui—,” you whispered, your hands tangling in his hair as his lips moved to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses that made your knees weak.

“You’re mine,” he said firmly, his voice filled with both affection and possessiveness.

His hands roamed down your sides, gripping your waist as he pulled you even closer. “I’m going to remind you how much I missed you,” he said, his voice a mix of promise and passion.

Luigi carried you effortlessly, his strong arms wrapping you in the warmth of safety as he navigated the unfamiliar safe house. He gently kicked open the door to what you assumed was the bedroom, setting you down on the soft mattress. His touch was soft, fingers lingering on your shoulders as he slid your straps off, his eyes scanning every inch of you like he was seeing you for the first time.

“Do you have any idea how much I missed you?” he murmured, his voice filled with longing.

Your response was barely a whisper. “I’ve thought about you every second.”

He tilted your chin upward, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that deepened with every passing moment. As he undid the zipper of your dress, his movements were deliberate yet gentle. The fabric pooled at your feet, and his breath hitched slightly as his gaze took your naked body in.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, his tone awestruck. His fingers threaded through your braids, tugging softly as he kissed you again, his lips tracing a path down your jawline and neck.

Your hands instinctively found his curls, tangling in them as he lowered himself to his knees before you. “Baby,” you whispered, the emotion in your voice evident.

“Shh,” he replied softly, his lips brushing your skin. “I need to take care of you first. Tell me how much you missed me.”

“I missed you so much,” you said, voice trembling with emotion. “I love you, Luigi.”

“I love you more than anything. Let me show you just how much,” he replied.

His hands caressed your thighs, his lips trailing kisses down your skin. His touch was reverent, almost as if he were worshiping every inch of you, his deep brown eyes gazing up with adoration.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured, his voice soft yet full of conviction. “Every part of you.”

His lips pressed against your pelvis, leaving a trail of warmth and affection that sent a shiver through your body. Each kiss was slow and deliberate, his presence grounding you even as your heartbeat quickened.

“Luigi,” you breathed, your voice trembling with emotion and pleasure. Your hand instinctively reached for his curls, tangling in them as he smiled against your pussy.

“Let me take care of you,” he said. “You’ve been so good for me—so patient, so strong.”

Your head tilted back, overwhelmed by the sensation of his devotion. His praises washed over you like a balm, soothing the ache of the days you’d spent apart.

His tongue moved with precision, licking your clit as he used his fingers to spread your juices across your hole. A gasp left your lips as he moved down, slipping his tongue inside your pussy then continuing his movements on your clit.

“You’re everything to me,” he continued, his hands gently gripping your hips as he sucked your clit. “I don’t deserve how good you’ve been throughout this, but I’ll spend my life proving how much I love you.”

His voice alone sent a rush of warmth through you, every syllable filled with sincerity. “I love you too,” you whispered, your voice breaking slightly as your emotions surged.

Luigi’s lips curved into a small smile. “You’re too good to me, but I’ll never take it for granted.”

The sincerity in his voice made your heart swell. Every touch, every flick of his tongue was a promise that he would always cherish you, protect you.

He didn’t rush a single movement, cherishing the connection between you. You cried out as you gripped his curls tighter, your orgasm threatening to spill over.

“God baby, I can feel you clamping around my tongue, it’s okay, you can cum for me,” he urged.

With his name on your lips like a prayer, you trembled as you squirted on his tongue. He slurped your juices, guiding you through your high and savoring your taste.

When he finally finished and stood up, his arms pulled you close, cradling you as if shielding you from the world. “You’re my everything,” he whispered. “I’ll never let anything happen to us. I promise you that.”

Your hand rested on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “I believe you,” you said softly.

He smiled, brushing a strand of your braids from your face. “Good.”

Luigi’s chuckled as you gently ran your fingers along his chest, stripping him off his clothes then pushing him to sit on the edge of the bed. His dark eyes glimmered with warmth, his hands lightly brushing against your waist.

“You’ve done so much for me,” you murmured, leaning closer, your voice low but full of intent. “Now it’s my turn to show you how much I’ve missed you.”

His gaze softened, his hands sliding to your wrists as if to stop you. “You don’t have to do anything, amore,” he said, his voice tender. “Just having you here, holding you, it’s enough.”

You pouted but decided not to be a brat this once. “Whatever you say baby, anything you want.”

Luigi sat back, his strong arms pulling you onto him as if he couldn’t bear even a second without your closeness. He settled you against his chest, your bodies perfectly aligned, his heart beating steadily beneath your ear. “So obedient,” he murmured, his lips brushing your temple before moving to your forehead for a lingering kiss.

He tilted your chin up gently, his dark eyes locking with yours. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly. “I need to hear you say it.”

You nodded, your breath catching. “I’ve been craving this—craving you—this whole time,” you whispered, your words trembling with sincerity.

That was all the encouragement he needed. His lips met yours in a deep kiss, one that spoke of everything unspoken, the longing, the love, the relief of being together again. His hands caressed your ass, grounding you as he shifted beneath you.

He paused, his movements deliberate, as he guided his cock against your pussy. “Slowly, baby,” he murmured, his hands firm but gentle on your hips. “I want you to feel every inch of me.”

A gasp escaped your lips as he sank deep inside you, your body adjusting to the slow, deliberate rhythm he set. “That’s it,” he praised, his voice rough with restrained need. “You’re perfect—so tight, so ready for me.”

Your nails dug lightly into his chest as the intensity built, his words spurring you on. “You can take it, baby,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over your collarbone. “You’re so incredible.”

Luigi's praises, whispered against your skin, grounded you in the moment. “You feel like heaven, amore,” he said, his voice breaking slightly as he kissed you again, swallowing your soft cries.

Luigi’s grip on your hips tightened, as he guided you into a slow, deliberate rhythm. Each thrust was purposeful, his body rising to meet yours. “That’s it, princess,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your jawline. “You’re so perfect. I’ve missed you more than you can imagine.”

You clung to him, your fingers tangling in his curls as he set a steady pace. Every thrust was measured, filling you and making your breath hitch. “You’re taking me so well,” he whispered, his voice breaking with restrained emotion. “I can feel how much you’ve missed me.”

Your head tilted back, exposing your throat as his lips pressed against your skin, leaving a trail of kisses that make you shiver. “Luigi,” you gasped, your voice trembling.

“Shh, amore,” he soothed, his hands running up and down your spine as he adjusted the angle slightly, his cock moving inside your wet pussy deliberate and controlled. “Let me take care of you. Just feel me.”

His thrusts deepened, his hips rolling in a way that sent shivers down your spine. “You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmured, his dark eyes locked on yours, filled with unspoken affection and need. “So perfect for me.”

“Lu— I’m gonna cum,” you cried, your fingers gripping his hair tighter.

“I know baby, do it for me, cum on my cock,” he muttered.

Your body convulsed on top of him, your breath catching in your throat as your orgasm hit you like a truck. He continued thrusting inside you, guiding you through the intensity of the moment.

Without missing a beat, he flipped you so that he was on top of you, his cock still inside you. His soft lips came down onto your tits, swirling his tongue around your nipples as soft whimpers left you. You tried to grip onto him but he pinned your arms above your head, leaving you completely at his mercy.

He thrusted into you deeply, your body jolting upwards as you cried out.

“Oh, fuck, that feels amazing,” you moaned, feeling him continuously brush that sweet spot inside you.

He went faster at your praises, his hips snapping to meet yours. “God, you’re so wet for me, beautiful.”

His large hands gripped your waist, slamming you onto his thick cock. His hand then moved to your lower abdomen, pressing against the outline of his cock moving inside you.

“Feel me baby? Feel how deep I am inside you?” he murmured, pressing on your abdomen and slamming into you.

“S-so deep,” you whimpered.

He reached down to rub your clit, feeling your pussy flutter around him as his pace never faltered.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum baby, I know you are too. I’m gonna cum deep inside you, gonna breed this pretty fucking pussy,” he said.

You wrapped your legs around him, grinding against him. “That’s my good girl, trap me in baby, cum with me while I fuck a baby into you.”

His words sent you over the edge and you moaned his name as you felt his hot load spurt deep inside you. “Take it, take it, take it, beautiful,” he gasped, fucking you as ropes of his cum spurted inside you.

You babbled incoherent words, shivering under him as the intensity of the moment was almost too much.

“Now, when you get pregnant, you’ll always have a piece of me,” he cooed. He stayed buried inside you, relishing in the warmth and wetness of your pussy.

Luigi gently pulled out of you, his hands steady as he helped you shift. His concern for you was immediate, his touch soft as he carefully helped you to your feet. “Let’s take care of you,” he whispered, his voice filled with care. He guided you to the bath, his eyes never leaving you, as if making sure you were okay, every part of you.

He settled behind you in the large, warm tub, the water soothing as he wrapped his arms around you, his chest against your back. You leaned into him, feeling the warmth of his body surround you, as he gently massaged the soap across your skin. His hands were steady and comforting, washing away the physical remnants of the day, but it was more than that—he was taking care of you in every way, his touch full of tenderness and love.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, kissing the back of your neck softly. “I promise, I won’t let them take me away again. We’ll fight this, together.”

You closed your eyes, your heart swelling with emotion as you leaned back against him. His hands gently cupped your face, turning you to look at him. “I really hope so,” you whispered, the fear from earlier still lingering, but his presence grounding you. “I’ll always be by your side, Luigi. No matter what happens.”

He smiled, a soft, knowing smile that reached his eyes. “I know,” he whispered, his voice full of reassurance. “And I’ll never let you go.”

As the warm water surrounded you both, the world outside seemed so far away. All that mattered was the two of you, in that moment, connected in a way that nothing could tear apart.

[blackynsupremacy]

idgaf about what’s canon, if you want to romantically write them to be with a black girl, do it!

[ironinc]

Distracted.ᝰ.ᐟ

Peter Parker x F!Black Reader. (Smut/NSFW)

˗ˏˋ You decided to take a break from your day and play a online game with your friends, but before you can even start, it's impossible to concentrate when your boyfriend, Peter Parker, is being so distracting. He offers to let you sit on his lap while you play, not realizing his intentions aren't nearly as innocent as he pretends they are.

──── .✦

Very explicit & detailed. | A/N: Posting back to back since I just posted a story about someone that wasn’t in the marvel universe! Also Peter is aged up to 22 in this, and you’re 21. | WC: 2,187

(Sauntering definition: walk in a slow, relaxed manner, without hurry or effort:)

✮⋆˙

The hum of your gaming PC filled the room, the monitor's glow casting a soft light over your desk. You adjusted your bonnet, pulling it down a little as you settled into the chair, your boyfriend’s oversized shirt billowing around your thighs. 

Peter—your Peter—leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest, that infuriating smirk playing on his lips. He was wearing a plain white wife beater and grey sweatpants, the fabric clinging to his muscular frame in a way that made your breath hitch. His thighs—God, his thighs—were on full display, and you couldn’t help but bite your lip as your eyes lingered on them.

“You sure you’re not just stalling so you can keep staring at me?” he teased, his voice low and amused.

You rolled your eyes, though your cheeks flushed. “I’m not stalling. I’m warming up.” You gestured to the screen where your character stood idle in the game lobby, your friends already chiming in over the headset. “Besides, if you’re just going to stand there and look all… that, then maybe you should leave me alone.”

Peter chuckled, pushing off the doorframe and sauntering toward you. Sauntering. Because of course, he did. He rested his hands on the back of your chair, leaning down until his breath ghosted over your ear. “You’re the one who couldn’t stop talking about my thighs this morning,” he murmured, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. “Now you’re kicking me out?”

You swallowed hard, trying to focus on the screen. “I’m trying to play a game, Peter.”

He hummed, his lips brushing against your neck. 

“I’ve got a better game for you.”

Before you could protest, his hands were on your waist, lifting you effortlessly out of the chair. You let out a small yelp, your hands flying to his shoulders as he settled into the seat and pulled you onto his lap. The heat of his body seeped through the thin fabric of your shirt, and you could already feel his arousal pressing against you.

“Peter,” you hissed, glancing at the monitor where your friends were still chatting, oblivious. 

“I’m live. They can hear me.”

“Then don’t make too much noise,” he said, his voice dripping with mischief. His hands slid down to your hips, pulling you closer until you could feel the hard length of him against your bare core. “Just sit on my lap while you play. I promise I won’t move.”

You shot him a skeptical look, but the way his pupils were dilated, the way his breath hitched as you shifted slightly—God, you didn’t stand a chance. “Fine,” you muttered, reaching for the keyboard. “But if you ruin my game, I’m kicking you out for real.”

He grinned, his hands resting lightly on your thighs. “Deal.”

You unmuted your mic, trying to ignore the way Peter’s warmth felt against you. “Sorry, guys. Had to adjust something,” you said, your voice steady despite the flush creeping up your neck.

“You good?” one of your friends asked.

“Yeah, all good,” you replied, focusing on the screen. For a moment, it almost worked. You were able to push Peter’s presence to the back of your mind—until his hands started to wander. His fingers traced slow, teasing patterns up your thighs, and you could feel him growing harder beneath you.

“Peter,” you whispered, your voice tight. “You promised.”

“I’m not moving,” he said innocently, though the smirk in his voice betrayed him. His hands slid under the hem of your shirt, brushing against your bare skin.

You bit your lip, trying to concentrate on the game, but it was impossible with his fingers inching closer to where you wanted them most. 

You quickly muted your mic, turning to glare at him. “You said you wouldn’t move.”

“Technically, I said I wouldn’t move,” he said, his hands cupping your ass. “You can move if you want.”

You groaned, your head falling back against his shoulder. “This is not fair.”

“Life’s not fair,” he said, his lips trailing along your neck. His hips shifted slightly, and you couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped your lips. 

“But I can be generous.”

You shivered as one of his hands slid between your legs, his fingers parting your folds with practiced ease. “Peter—” you started, but your voice broke off into a moan as his fingers found your clit, rubbing slow, deliberate circles.

“Shh,” he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. “You’re still muted, right?”

You nodded, though you could barely think straight. His fingers moved with a precision that left you breathless, your hips rocking against his hand as you tried to stifle your moans.

“Good,” he said, his voice dark with desire. His other hand moved to grip your hip, guiding you to grind against him. “But I think we can make this more fun.”

Before you could protest, he unmuted your mic, his fingers still working their magic. “What’s the plan, team?” you asked, your voice trembling as you tried to focus on the game.

“Are you okay?” one of your friends asked, her voice laced with concern. “You sound… off.”

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, though your voice hitched as Peter’s fingers pushed inside you, curling in just the right way.

“Just—uh—got a cramp.”

Peter chuckled softly, his lips brushing against your neck. “Cramp, huh?” he whispered, his fingers increasing their pace.

You bit your lip, trying to keep your breathing steady. “Yeah, just—need to stretch.”

“Well, hurry up,” another friend chimed in. “We’ve got a raid to finish.”

“On it,” you said, though your vision was starting to blur as Peter’s fingers worked you closer and closer to the edge.

“You’re doing so good,” he murmured, his voice thick with praise. “But I think you can take more.”

You barely had time to process his words before he was lifting you slightly, his free hand pulling his sweatpants down just enough to free his cock. He positioned you over him, the tip brushing against your slick entrance. 

“Peter,” you gasped, your hands gripping the edge of the desk. “You’re going to get us caught.”

“Then don’t make it obvious,” he said, his voice low and commanding. He lowered you onto him slowly, inch by agonizing inch, until you were seated fully in his lap.

You whimpered, your head falling back against his shoulder. “Fuck.”

“That’s the plan,” he said, his hands gripping your hips. He started to rock you against him, the pace slow and deliberate, but enough to make your toes curl. “But let’s see how quiet you can be.” 

You muffled a moan against your hand, trying to focus on the screen where your friends were still strategizing. But it was impossible—the way he filled you, the way his hands held you in place, the way his breath hitched every time you clenched around him—it was all too much.

“You’re doing so good,” he whispered, his voice rough with desire. “But I think we can push you a little more.”

He increased the pace, his hips meeting yours with a force that left you breathless. You quickly muted your mic again, unable to hold back the moan that escaped your lips.

“Peter,” you gasped, your hands gripping the desk for support.

“You’re going to make me—”

“Go ahead pretty,” he growled, his hands tightening on your hips. “Come for me, baby. Let me feel you.”

You couldn’t hold back anymore—the tension coiled in your core snapped, and you came with a muffled cry, your body shuddering against his. He followed soon after, his hips stuttering as he filled you, his breath hot against your neck.

For a moment, the only sound in the room was your ragged breathing. Then, Peter unmuted your mic, his voice calm and steady. “You good, mama?”

You shot him a glare, though your legs were still trembling. “Yeah,” you said, your voice surprisingly steady. “Just… stretching.”

Peter’s hands slide up your thighs, his grip firm as he lifts you off his lap with ease. The sudden shift leaves you momentarily disoriented, but before you can protest, he leans you forward over the desk, your palms pressing into the cool surface. The game is still running, and the chatter of your friends faints through the headset, but your focus is entirely on him.

“Shh,” he whispers, his breath hot against your ear as he moves behind you. The sound of his sweatpants sliding down to his ankles sends a shiver through you. His hands grip your hips, adjusting your position until your left leg is propped up on the desk, giving him better access. He could see how his cum was slowly dripping out of you. Making him ‘Tsk’ at the sight. 

The position is vulnerable, exposing, and intensely arousing.

His hand comes down on your ass in a sharp slap, the sound louder than you expected. You gasp, your body jerking forward, but his other hand holds you in place. “Peter—” you start, but he cuts you off with another slap, the sting making your breath hitch.

“Quiet,” he murmurs, his voice low and commanding. His cock slides between your thigh, already hard and demanding. “Let’s see how quiet you can be now. And this time, you can’t mute the mic. Let them hear you moan.”

Your heart races as he positions himself, the head of his cock teasing your entrance. You glance at the screen, where your friends’ avatars are moving around, oblivious to what’s happening. Your mic is still unmuted, and the thought of them hearing you—really hearing you—sends a jolt of both fear and excitement through you.

Peter doesn’t give you time to adjust. He pushes into you in one smooth, unrelenting motion, filling you completely. You bite your lip to stifle a moan, but it slips out anyway, a soft, breathy sound that makes his grip on your hips tighten.

“That’s it,” he growls, his voice rough with need. 

He pulls back almost all the way before thrusting into you again, the force of it making your arms tremble. “Let them hear. Let them know who’s making you feel this good.”

You try to stay quiet, but it’s impossible. Every thrust wrings another sound from you, a mix of moans and whimpers that you can’t suppress. 

Your friends’ voices chatter in the background, oblivious, but you can’t focus on the game anymore. All you can focus on is Peter, his cock pounding into you, his hands gripping your hips like he’s afraid you’ll pull away.

“Peter—” you gasp, your voice trembling.

“Say my name again,” he demands, his pace relentless. “Louder.”

“Peter,” you moan, your voice breaking as he hits a spot that makes your legs shake. You can hear it faintly through the headset, your moan carrying over the mic, and you freeze for a moment, wondering if your friends heard.

But Peter doesn’t stop. If anything, he seems more determined, his thrusts growing harder, faster. “Again,” he growls, his hand sliding around to rub your clit in tight, rhythmic circles. “Let them hear you.”

“Peter!” you cry out, your voice louder this time, and you can’t bring yourself to care if your friends hear. The pleasure is too much, too intense, and you’re teetering on the edge of another orgasm.

His name spills from your lips over and over as he fucks you, each thrust driving you closer to the edge. His fingers circle your clit faster, matching the rhythm of his hips, and you can feel the tension building, coiling tighter and tighter until it snaps.

You come with a cry, your body shuddering as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you. Peter groans, his hips stuttering as he follows you over the edge, his cock pulsing inside you as he fills you with his release.

For a moment, the only sound in the room is your labored breathing and the faint chatter of your friends through the headset. Then, Peter leans down, his lips brushing against your ear. “Good girl,” he murmurs, his voice thick with satisfaction.

You’re still catching your breath when one of your friends speaks up, her voice concerned. 

“Hey, you okay? You’re being really quiet.”

Peter smirks, his hands still on your hips. “Answer her,” he whispers, his voice teasing.

You hesitate, your cheeks burning, but you can’t bring yourself to lie. “Yeah,” you manage, your voice shaky but steady enough. “Just… got distracted for a second.”

Peter chuckles softly, his hands sliding up your sides. 

You took your left leg off the desk, now standing in front of your monitors. He took a couple of wet wipes out of your desk drawer to clean you up. 

“Distracted, huh?” he murmurs, his tone playful. 

You look behind you, and he's silently laughing at your 'plain excuses.'

"Shh," he hushes you with a sly grin. "You can lock in now."

He starts rubbing your bare ass gently, his touch sending chills down your spine. Softly, he kisses your skin, his lips leaving a trail of desire in their wake.

Then, in a voice that's both tender and teasing, he whispers, "God, I love you."

⋆˙⟡

OH LA LA LAAAAA😝😝 I loved writing this so much I could SCREAM!! I hope you all are doing well and enjoyed it!

(Credits: spiderevans on TikTok)

- I’ll see you soon ‹𝟹 (MasterList) ⋆˚࿔

[ticifics]

𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞

── sirius black x f!reader

summary: “You know what's funny?" His voice is low, drawling, like a secret whispered against your wrist. "What?" Your own voice trembles. "I swear my plan was just to make you sleep." His teeth graze your skin lightly. "But you're not helping, doll."

warnings: language, est. relationship, suggestive, love bites, no use of y/n, the marauders' reaction when they saw that you spent the night in the boys' dormitory.

a/n: sirius' m.list is my oldest draft (from early december), but only now have I dared to do something with it, I hope it didn't turn out too bad <33

Your footsteps on the stone staircase barely make a sound as you climb toward the boys' dormitories in Gryffindor Tower. The castle is drowned in the silence of the early hours, and the only light illuminating your path comes from the weakly dancing flames in the common room fireplace far below.

You've been here before. Many times. The path to him is as familiar as Sirius himself.

Reaching the top of the staircase, you push the door open slowly, slipping into the dark room. The air is thick with the dormitory’s woody scent and something unmistakably his—a mix of leather, smoke, and Sirius.

The other boys sleep deeply, their steady breathing filling the space. But your gaze is drawn to the bed at the far end, where crimson curtains are partially parted, revealing a cascade of black hair spread across the pillow.

Sirius lies on his side, one hand tucked under his face, his breathing slow and deep. The moonlight slipping through the window cracks casts a silver glow over him, highlighting the sharp angles of his face, the soft shadows beneath his closed eyes, the dark hue of his long lashes against his pale skin.

You move closer, soundless, kneeling beside his bed. Your heart pounds in your chest as you lightly trace your fingers over his arm, the tip of your nail grazing the warmth of his skin.

"Sirius..." your voice is barely a whisper.

He stirs, frowning slightly before his eyes slowly flutter open. Sleep-clouded gray meets yours, and a shadow of a smile tugs at his lips.

"Ah," his voice, rough and drowsy, slides through the silence like a secret. "So my imagination has finally materialized into flesh and bone?"

His lazy, slightly teasing tone sends warmth flooding through your chest. You smile softly. "If you're dreaming of me, then your imagination is terribly dull."

Sirius lets out a short chuckle, rolling onto his back and stretching an arm toward you. "Since you're already here, come on."

You don’t hesitate. The bed creaks slightly as you slide in, molding yourself against the warmth of his body. Sirius shifts to make space, pulling the curtains closed around you both with a lazy flick of his wand before murmuring a silencing charm. The world outside disappears.

His arms wrap around you, pulling you against his bare chest. The heat of his skin is comforting, and you can feel the slow, drowsy rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your cheek.

"Couldn't sleep?" he asks, his lips brushing the top of your head.

You shake your head against him, feeling the movement of his smile before you even see it.

"Lucky me, then."

"Why?"

"Because now I have an excuse to do this." His fingers trail idly up your arm, skimming over your shoulder, your neck, until finally threading into your hair. He plays with the strands absentmindedly while his other arm tightens around your waist, as if making sure you won’t slip away.

You sigh, sinking further into him.

Sirius tilts his head, pressing his lips lightly to your forehead for a lingering moment, his breath warm against your skin before he murmurs:

"Want me to tell you a story?"

You lift your face to look at him. "Since when do you tell stories?"

He shrugs, a lazy glint in his eyes. "Since now. I have a very selective and highly demanding audience to entertain."

You laugh softly but nod. "I do."

Sirius thinks for a moment, his gray eyes lost in the shadows of the bed canopy. Then, in a deliberately dramatic tone, he begins:

"Once upon a time, there was a great hunter in the sky. He was strong, invincible, arrogant as hell, but handsome enough to make up for it—"

"This is about Orion, isn’t it?"

"Hey, who’s telling the story here?"

You smile, resting a hand on his chest. "Go on, then."

Sirius clears his throat theatrically. "As I was saying, Orion was a legendary hunter. But he was also a little impulsive—and pissed off powerful people, which, let’s be honest, is a familiar trait."

The implication in his tone doesn’t go unnoticed. You smile against his skin, feeling Sirius's muscles relax beneath your fingers.

"He boasted that he could defeat any beast on Earth," Sirius continues, lowering his voice to a deep whisper. "And the gods, being the bastards they are, didn’t like that. So they sent a scorpion to kill him. And just like that, the invincible hunter fell."

He pauses, his eyes locked onto yours.

"But the gods placed him in the sky," he finishes softly. "A bright constellation, never to be forgotten."

The silence between you is filled only by the sound of your soft breaths and the slow beat of Sirius’s heart under your palm.

"Tragic," you murmur.

Sirius smiles faintly. "All the best stories are."

You watch his face in the dark, the soft fall of his dark hair over his eyes, the strong line of his jaw softened by the dim light. He looks caught between two worlds—one where he is Sirius Black as everyone knows him, and another where it’s just you and the way he melts into you.

You touch his face lightly, letting your thumb graze the curve of his mouth. "If you were a constellation, which one would you be?"

His lips part slightly under your touch, something warm flickering in his gaze.

"If I could choose..." he murmurs, "any one that’s next to you in the sky."

Your heart clenches.

Sirius seems to notice, because he leans in and presses his lips to yours in a slow, lingering kiss, as if trying to trap the feeling of you here, as if trying to make this moment eternal.

And in a way, it is.

The kiss starts soft. The kind of kiss Sirius gives when he wants to savor, when he wants to feel. But there’s something about you—the way your fingers tangle in his hair, the way your body molds against his, the way your lips return to his without a shred of hesitation—that makes him lose his patience.

The sound he makes against your mouth is deep, almost a low, satisfied purr, and then the softness dissolves. His hands tighten on your waist before sliding up your back, pulling you closer. You feel the tension in his muscles beneath your fingers, his breath becoming more uneven against yours.

Sirius kisses like it’s hunger.

And you surrender.

You get carried away.

Your bodies fit together in an almost desperate way, his hands traveling up your neck, into your hair, his fingers firm against your skin, as if he wants to memorize you. He takes your mouth with more insistence now, deepening the kiss in a way that makes it hot, consuming.

When you let out a quiet moan against his lips, Sirius exhales an almost exasperated sigh and flips you over in one swift motion, pinning you beneath him. His weight is comfortable, warm, and you feel every inch of him against you.

Sirius' gray eyes gleam in the dark, intense, hungry. He leans down, brushing the tip of his nose along your jaw, trailing slowly down your neck, letting his breath warm your skin. A shiver runs through you.

"You know what's funny?" His voice is low, drawling, like a secret whispered against your wrist.

"What?" Your own voice trembles.

"I swear my plan was just to make you sleep." His teeth graze your skin lightly. "But you're not helping, doll."

The shiver rolls down your spine even before you feel the first bite.

Sirius presses his mouth to your neck, sucking slowly before biting—not hard enough to hurt, but enough that tomorrow, you’ll see the marks and remember exactly how they got there.

You cling to him, fingers digging into his bare back, feeling the satisfied chuckle he lets out against your collarbone before biting there too, as if he’s claiming you, leaving his signature on your skin.

You feel him smile against your shoulder before he trails his lips up to your jaw, then back to your mouth. The kiss now is slower, more deliberate, as if he’s savoring the effect he has on you.

Then, as abruptly as he started, Sirius stops.

His lips still brush against yours, but he doesn’t push forward. His breathing is fast, just like yours, and for a moment, he just looks at you, his gaze hazy, intense.

The silence between you is thick, full of everything that doesn’t need to be said.

Then, with a sigh, he lets out a low, husky laugh. "If I keep going, you’ll never sleep."

He doesn’t pull away completely, but you feel the weight of his restraint in his shoulders when he closes his eyes for a moment, controlling his breathing.

Your fingers touch his face, tracing the sharp line of his jaw, feeling the tension beneath his warm skin.

Sirius opens his eyes again, and there’s something so devastatingly intense in them that your heart clenches.

He gives you a faint smile, lips still a little swollen. "You’re killing me, you know that?"

You smile back, sliding your arms around his neck. "If it’s any consolation… we’re dying together."

Sirius lets out a short laugh, then kisses your forehead and pulls you against his chest.

"Now sleep, my love." His voice is low, laced with the sleep that’s finally catching up to him.

Sirius' body is a warm shelter against yours, his chest rising and falling steadily as he holds you tightly, but not trapping you. He lazily runs a hand up and down your back, tracing invisible patterns with his fingertips, the touch so tender it makes your heart ache.

"Breathe with me," he murmurs into your hair, his voice still thick with sleep.

You obey, inhaling when he does, exhaling in the same rhythm. His chest vibrates against you when he lets out a contented sigh, and then, in a tone so soft it feels meant just for you, Sirius starts to hum.

The melody is gentle, little more than a low, resonant hum against your ear. He doesn’t sing words, just lets the sound fill the space between you, as if he’s lulling you into a song only he knows.

And it works.

Your muscles slowly relax, your eyes grow heavy, and the last thing you feel before finally slipping into sleep is the warm press of Sirius' lips against your forehead.

Morning arrives lazily, with the sun filtering through the heavy curtains and spreading a golden glow across the room. You're still deeply asleep, nestled against Sirius' chest, while he rests his hand possessively on your back, his fingers lazily curled in the thin fabric of your blouse.

Sirius is awake, but he doesn’t move. He just stays there, watching the way your relaxed face looks even more beautiful in the soft light, the way your breath against his collarbone sends shivers down his skin.

He could stay like this all day.

Unfortunately, the world has other plans. The bed curtain is abruptly yanked aside.

"WHAT THE F—"

"Shhh! For Merlin's sake, James!"

Potter’s shout barely has time to echo through the room before it's interrupted by the urgent whispers of Remus. Sirius narrows his eyes, irritated.

"Fuck off, James, shut up," he grumbles, his voice still thick with sleep.

James raises his hands in surrender, but his eyes are still wide as he stares at the scene before him. Remus just rubs his face, exhausted before the day even begins.

Peter, who has just lifted his head from the pillow, gapes and immediately looks anywhere but at the two of you. "Merlin!" he murmurs, his skin flushing instantly.

Sirius, now burying his head against your neck, lets out a low chuckle. He moves just enough to pull the blanket over his body, not because he wants to hide the marks—he’s actually completely satisfied with how they look—but because he prefers no one else sees them.

James, standing at the foot of the bed with his glasses askew and a scandalized look on his face, points an accusing finger. "Those are marks, Sirius!"

Sirius rolls his eyes. "Do you really have to shout about it? Fuck, she’s still sleeping."

"It’s impressive! You were irresponsible!"

"I was passionate," Sirius corrects, a cheeky smile forming on his lips.

Remus, who’s seen worse, just lets out a sigh. "Can we at least pretend to be adults?"

Sirius shrugs, lazily looking at them before simply pulling you a little closer against him.

"You guys talk too much in the morning," he murmurs, his lips brushing the sensitive skin just below your ear.

James grimaces. "I’m going to puke."

"Then puke outside."

Peter makes a muffled sound, clearly too embarrassed to contribute to the conversation.

Remus, always practical, crosses his arms and watches Sirius with an unreadable look. "You’re a shameless dog."

Sirius grins—a lazy, insolent smile that clearly says no, he definitely isn’t ashamed.

"Guilty," he says, his voice drawling.

James shakes his head, frustrated. "Merlin, Black. Could you at least try to look sorry?"

Sirius just smiles more.

And then, in an absurdly possessive gesture, he lowers his face and places a lazy kiss on your exposed shoulder, as if wanting to make it clear to everyone that yes, the marks are his, and yes, he wears them proudly.

"Now, if you don’t mind," he says, pulling the blanket over both of you and closing his eyes again, "get out of here before I get even more graphic."

James lets out a horrified grunt.

Peter rushes to grab his things and leave.

Remus just sighs, clearly used to this.

And Sirius, satisfied with himself, settles back against you, completely ignoring the chaos he’s caused.

[henneseyhoe]

Sunshine

Aaron Pierre x BLACK!FEM!Reader

ORDER:Coffee (Smut) Tea (Fluff), Strawberry Cheesecake (Hair Pulling) , Jelly Filled Donut (Creampie) , Vanilla Beignet (Blind To Love) and a Brownie (Sunny vs Grumpy) served by Terry Richmond.

SUMMARY: Shitty jobs are made worth it cause pretty, funny girls exist!(ig idk chile)

The Bakery<3

✮✮✮✮

“How the hell do you deal with that?”

Was what people would ask Terry when they saw you two together. You were loud, anyone could hear your laugh from miles away and your smile radiated bright happiness that annoyed most, especially in your field of work. You were enthusiastic about nearly everything, seeing the bright side to dark situations that some just couldn’t bear. Maybe that’s why Terry held onto you the way he did. He even gave you the nickname ’Sunshine’ to show.

Everything that was listed, he indeed was not. He was not happy go lucky, he was not enthusiastic about things he had to do and he definitely wasn’t looking on the bright side, for reasons that could probably be justified.

When he was happy, it was mostly because of you. You were best friends (or he was definitely YOUR best friend) and working together in close proximity made it so much easier for Terry to get use to you. It was hard for Terry not to crack a smile when you were constantly in a good mood, bouncing off the walls. You found the spots in him that were soft and poked at them until he gave in, you learned his humor and kept him laughing when he didn’t want to.

He couldn’t lie, he was growing accustomed to being with you, he could even say he loved having you around (he would probably never say that out loud) . He just couldn’t help but feel a little warmth in his chest when you were near, butterflies in his stomach when you made eye contact with him. Little did he know, you felt the same.

Your heart beat down on your rib cage faster than it was on your first mission. You loved a challenge, and Terry was exactly that, testing your abilities to be professional, dangerous, light on your feet, but also keeping your brand of being the happy person you were.

Whenever Terry came into work, even if it was just to train, you were up in his face cracking jokes like you hadn’t just ran two miles. Of course because he was a rank higher than you, he use to send you on about your way the first few times, a little annoyed with your presence and attitude until realizing he couldn’t get rid of you even if he tried. You were everywhere and the crew was slowly growing a liking to you too.

You were like a leech, as he would describe. A cuddly and cute one, but a leech nonetheless.

Coming up on the date of the official homecoming for soldiers, it was time to head back to your respective states and you offered Terry a day to spend with just the two of you, enjoying the scenery of downtown and all it had to offer..as friends, Which he accepted after a huff (which was obviously faked, his ass was happy you asked) . Somehow, Terry found himself not wanting to leave when night had came. Something he had NEVER felt before, and he hated it. He hated that he knew it was because of you too, nothing else. Hell, he didn’t even like the state he was in, he was ready to go when he landed.

Babysitting a beer in your hand, you two sit close around the fireplace of your apartment, or what was yours till tomorrow.

“Feel like we been here forever” He breaks the silence, sipping on his drink while staring at the flicker of the fire in front of you both.

You shrug.

“It kinda has been? Seven months, two weeks, five days, and 21 hours is a long time!” You nod, Terry giving you a look before stifling out the chuckle he tried so hard not to free. You smile, satisfied at how easy it was to make him laugh now.

“So!…You ready to go home to the missus?”

Terry raises a brow, swallowing the bitter drink in his mouth. “Missus?”

You hum, waiting for an answer, but he never confirmed.

“Yeah. I mean, you never said anything about a wife or a kid, but I just assumed-“

“Never said because I don’t have” He interrupts, laughing. He couldn’t even imagine what about him gave husband. He didn’t wear a ring, on the right finger at least, and he thought the flirting he did confirmed him to be single already..Or what he thought was flirting. The making sure you ate and drank every day and teasing about how many push ups you could do didn’t really connect the dots for you. You were looking for a more forward approach considering he was a blunt man.

“What the hell about me made you think I was married with a kid?”

You laugh along with him to save yourself the embarrassment. Truthfully, you asked on purpose to see if he was single or not. To your surprise, no one had snatched him up yet.

“I-…I don’t know. I just see a nigga like you and just expect it” You respond, the palms of your hands already sweating. Your body was once again defying you, you felt like you were in highschool again.

Terry’s laugh shrunk until it was no more and his eyebrows rose at your statement. “A nigga like me?”

“…Yeah. Ya know…” You trail off, shyly looking away. By now regret had already set in your stomach for bringing up shit and snooping in his business. It would have been easier to search his name in the database and read his files, keeping your stalker shit on the low.

“Hm…Elaborate, sunshine. I wanna know what that mean” He presses, his squinted eyes searching for yours, but you refused to give in and see what may have been rejection.

“Look” You huff, shaking your head. “I just mean…You are a very handsome man, and I expected you to be…spoken for? Can you even say spoken for when talking about a man?”

You both laugh, but tension was still thick in the air, you just didn’t know what kind of tension it would turn to. Whether sexual or awkward tension, your nerves were getting worse by the second.

Terry on the other hand seemed cool as a cucumber, his tongue subtly tracing the rim of his beer bottle as he thought to himself before taking his last drink, finishing the beverage off.

“I don’t think so, but still. I appreciate that…so”

“So…”

He tilts his head. You could see it all from your peripheral view. His strong presence demanded attention from you. It was like that while working and it happened to never change outside of it.

“You aren’t spoken for?” He asks, his shoulder softly bumping yours to pull an answer quicker.

You shake your head, simultaneously setting down your bottle.

“Not since a year ago. Maybe if it was possible to pack a niggas dick with you when you leave for work, it wouldn’t be inside your bestfriend, right?”

“…You shittin’ me?” He leans, almost shocked that anyone would dare to cheat on you. Not only because of the person you were on the inside, but also because you could be classified as a high threat even while ass naked. That’s just the type of woman he wouldn’t cross, even at his rank.

“Nope, deadass”

“Damn..” He mumbles. “Whatever nigga out here silly enough to let little miss sunshine walk the earth without being right behind her need his ass beat. Shit, i’ll do it for you actually”

You giggle. “You’re silly”

“Nah, I’m serious”

Who knew that conversation alone would end with you getting ate out by someone you considered a friend, someone who you looked up to just a little, someone who just admitted he’d fuck somebody up for you…maybe giving it up was justifiable.

On the couch with your legs spread to each side, you forced yourself to open your eyes and bask in reality as Terry began the journey of taking you apart and putting you back together again. He placed soft kisses around your lips and on your clit before he licked long strings from your entrance, then sucked, earning a soft gasp from you.

His hands gripped your thick thighs while holding them apart, his strength not allowing you to hide from him at all. He wanted to taste all you had to offer, his tongue doing all the hard work slithering inside of your warm walls as his nose nudged your clit. You tensed up with every nudge, watching as he freely put his face in it. He made it messy enough to admire when he pulled his mouth off of you, your pussy glistening like he just doused you in oil.

“Look at that, mmm” There was a grumble that came deep from within his throat. His green eyes on you made it so hard not to be bothered even with him not doing anything, your poor clit jumping with excitement as he spread your lips open.

“She happy to see me, huh?”

You moan and nod eagerly, bringing your hand to your mouth to suck on a finger. Terry smiles at that, sharp teeth flashing from under his lips. He just wanted to bite you all over.

“Yeah, I know. When the last time you had some?”

“I-I don’t remember” And you truly couldn’t. Nothing worth remembering.

“Yeah? Imma make sure you remember this shit” He ends off with a bite to your thigh, almost as if he was warning you for what’s to come before he dove back into your heat, slurping up your soaked clit. Your belly was doing summersaults, you could barely contain your volume. It seemed Terry didn’t care about his.

When he ate, he made noise. He moaned, grunted, groaned. He was having just as much fun as you.

Your legs had began to shake the longer he was down there, your hands gripping onto the top of his white tank since that was all you had to hold on to after he practically ripped your oversized shirt off of you beforehand, and you feared ruining the couch if you got to pulling on it.

“Yes, yes, yes! I’m so close” You struggled to keep your eyes on him even with his staring back up at you, low lidded and dark. They beckoned you to stay, but pleasure had came rolling through like natural disaster and wiped all thought from your brain, leaving you a shaking, blubbering mess.

His mouth pulled off of you and his hand moved in place of it, rubbing your clit in tight circles.

“Feel it, baby. Let it happen” He coos as you fight against his hand, thighs closing around his wrist which he just smacked away and kept at it until he felt he was done.

“Stop moving, let that shit happen, baby”

You felt like you were literally about to float to heaven, back arching up off of the couch just to get away from the overstimulation.

“Okay! Fuck!”

He moves his hand and allows you to go through the motions, twitching until that special feeling left your center. “Good job, pretty girl” A kiss from him was placed beside your opened mouth as heavy breathing left you.

He gave you time to recover while undressing himself, items of clothing fluttering to the ground until he was in nothing but his shorts.

Your eyes never left his length as it bobbed out of the bottoms. You hadn’t even noticed there was nothing under the shorts till now..So all of that print you were eyeing was all him. He was nothing little, nothing that you had ever seen before and it almost made you ask if that was all of it, hoping he had added something extra, if possible. You wanted to taste him, to lick up the dribbling precum from his tip and test if you could take him in your mouth first, but Terry desperately wanted to be inside you. You protested, pulling him in and stroking his shaft to solicit him into going your way, but he was stern, nearly completely ignoring your advances and lifting you to your feet.

You yelped, legs wobbly from your first orgasm, but you had no need to worry about falling because you were lifted off of your feet as fast as you got on them.

“D-don’t drop me!”

You begged, holding onto him while he bounced you to catch you in the right position to fuck you good, your legs swinging over his arms and his hands cupping your soft ass.

“I gotchu, baby”

He reassured as he kisses your lips. You could smell and taste yourself all on him, slightly sweet and herbal from the beer. All while sucking on his tongue, you felt the tip of him swipe against your entrance, your heart beating so hard in your chest that you were convinced he could hear it, and it was the same for him. He couldn’t wait to feel you, to be connected in other ways than just conversation and friendship. He longed to know what it would be like, and when he got a taste, there was no turning back from then on. Not that he would want to, anyway.

There was no way you were getting away from him. You were strong, but Terry was strong. The man trained relentlessly and always being on his toes payed off at work and apparently in the bedroom too.

Your thighs ached with a burning sensation as he bounced you on his long dick effortlessly, the tip of him kissing your cervix ever so slightly, but he knew good enough not to hit it dead on, fearing hurting you in the process. You appreciate the thoughtfulness, seeing as you were already losing the part of your brain that made thought out decisions.

“So fucking deep!”

You cried out weakly, nails scratching down his broad shoulders, creating red streaks he’d try to hide with a long sleeve the morning after, the feeling of you still dancing on his tongue as he got dressed. He grunts, palms squeezing the fat of your ass as his pace never seemed to falter. He was determined to get you there. To feel you cum around his dick so hard that the neighbors would wonder if you were hurt, that they would think about calling the cops just to check on you.

“Cmon, baby. You a big girl, take this dick like I know you can” He encouraged you sweetly, voice unshaken and stable as if the ribbon of release in the pit of his stomach wasn’t threatening to come undone, spilling his seed deep inside of you.

It wasn’t long until he decided to change the position and lay you on your stomach instead, a soft pillow placed underneath your hips to make sure you could meet his height and your ass stayed up right for him. Before he entered back into your warmth, he took his time to spread your cheeks and licking up whatever your pussy had started to drip, earning whiny, pathetic mewls from you.

He licked from your clit to the winking rim of your asshole, the tip of his tongue circling around it before going back down to your sensitive bud, teasingly suckling on it softly.

You drooled into your sheets. You knew you looked so damn stupid right now, but you couldn’t help it with how he was turning you every way but loose.

“Taste so fucking good”

He says from behind you, fully standing now with a hand in your silk press and the other laid directly in the middle of your back to help that arch. He didn’t even have to guide his dick into you, you were so wet and open for him already that all he did was wind his hips back to line up with you and push forward.

You could swear your breath was being sucked out of your lungs with each inch he dropped into you. It felt so good that you could almost ignore him pulling on your hair, forcing your head back to meet him for a slow, nasty kiss.

“Fuck- My hair, Terry!” You whined against his plump lips, one of your hands reaching for his wrist, but the tugging only made it worse for you. The sharp stinging in your scalp oddly satisfied something within you, your clit twitching at the newfound feeling.

“Fuck it. I’ll pay for it” He grunts, his teeth tugging at the bottom of your lip.

You both kissed with teeth and all as he fucked you, your ass loudly clapping back on his toned body with every thrust. He felt every motion of it, the waves clashing with his hips so mesmerizing that he couldn’t help but wanna stare.

As he pulled away from your lips, he opted to grab a hold of your throat instead, your moans immediately getting caught.

He made sure to grab you by the part where it was safe to hold, safe enough to where you could still breathe a little, but still got the sensation to feel held.

“Why-“ You managed to choke out, yet you couldn’t finish a sentence.

He cracked an almost cocky smile then moaned out a curse, his dick violently throbbing inside of you and reaching beyond what you thought was gonna be his limit.

“Why what? Spit it out, ma” He teased, his low cut nails almost scratching up the side of your throat when his thrusts got more fluid, the man putting way more wine into every collision.

You began to cry out, him muffling them slightly by letting go of you and pushing your head down into the bed. He only fucked you harder when your arch fell with your hips, your legs giving out as your pussy cried right along with you.

This position had you feeling everything. From the tip of him grazing your gspot to the veins that traveled up his dick and massaged your walls, giving you texture that you never felt before.

Him demanding a word out of you was like speaking to a brick wall. You had already came without warning, now you were just wetting up the sheets with incoherent words spilling from your mouth. He imagined you fucked out under him like this plenty of times before but he never knew it’d feel and look this good.

“Shit! Keep doing that and imma cum” He warns, but that’s exactly what you wanted. You wanted to feel him fill you up to the point you were leaking. You began purposely clenching around him, the first squeeze prompting him to lay a smack on your ass, and the second one making his hips stutter against you. He could feel himself becoming lighter, a swirl of heat blooming in the bottom of his stomach.

“Nut in this pussy, baby. Let me feel it, please” You begged hopelessly, doing your best to keep a good hold on his dick until he released with a loud groan, grinding his hips into your ass. You could feel each and every spurt of his cum being released inside you, warmth and fullness is what laid in the bottom of your belly.

“Mmm, fuck” His hips bucked one last time before he was pulling out with a grunt, large hands gripped on your ass and spreading you apart to see what he had done to you.

“So pretty. Push it out” He demanded, and you abided by it, pushing his cum out of you until you no longer felt full.

✮✮✮✮

💌- I’m criiine, this was supposed to be a headcannon too- LMFAOAOA. and yall wonder why i take so long, lawd. i told yall, i cannot do shit right smh. Anyway! i hope you liked this, homegirl 😭 i also managed to get this out before my first college class so hallelujah! *does ring shout*. also this was the longest smut i wrote in a whiiile lmfao. a whole 3k+ words so yaaay! eb clap for henny and wish her luck on this class 😋

[uzumaki-rebellion]

Honestly, it is a necessity more than ever nowadays for Black women fic writers to create. We aren't getting the real life media content we deserve. All these fine and talented Black women and men out here never being paired TOGETHER in interesting projects across various genres? A travesty. Please write that Blackety Black fic. Throw in whatever tropes you want. See your fellow Black writers creating similar stories on the TL? Who cares?! You are providing a gift that readers want and buying time for another writer to finish a story. No Black reader has ever said, "Damn, too many Alex Cross, Terry Richmond, Killmonger, whoever fics out here doing whatever." Black fic writers are such a small percentage in fandom writing that every story is an important patch to our collective quilt. Write that shit. Even if you think no one is reading it. I promise, somebody in the world quietly is, and they are grateful to see you post or update. Write for yourself so you can read your own words. I write for myself all the time because I rarely see stuff I want in the world. The world is anti-Black, but I'm creating pro-Black worlds. I get stoked when you are, too, like we're the Dora Milaje of fic writing. Thank you for coming to my Black Fic Writer Ted-Talk.

Write when you can. Post when you can.

[allaboutlov3]

I can’t stop thinking about the discussion James and Regulus must have had when Harry was sorted into Gryffindor. James would smirk at Regulus for a looooong time.

But oh how sweet Regulus comeback was when Harry was chosen as seeker for the quidditch team.

[grimmsbride]

dirty mind …. ! ₊ཾִ ᖫྀ ⁣⁣.

mohawk!mark, full-masked!mark, shiesty!mark, & reader ╲ your boyfriend is a little perv <3

𖥔 ࣪˖ tags⠀⎯ separate headcanons | pre-established relationship | ooc characters | perverted behavior | mentions of panty stealing, nudes, masturbation, etc | if this isn’t for you, please ignore | silly headcanons don’t take them too seriously | fake humping | groping | voyuerism? | shiesty mark is childish asf | etc

𖥔 ࣪˖ author’s notes⠀⎯ really on the mark is a little perv train (i mean look at the lotion and tissues in his room ) so of course his variants are gonna be similar if not ten times worst. decided i may write headcanons inbetween work days cause i only ever rlly write fics on my day off— but i don’t wanna starve y’all. i’ll make more of these soon probably i need to sleep tho 🫶🏾🫶🏾

MOHAWK!MARK

- keeps sexy pictures of you as your contact info. consensual, naughty pics of course— he’s not that odd.

- however one day you had his phone to check something and happened upon his call log by accident. of course you were a frequent caller, your lips curling into a smile at the little ‘headache’ contact name he had chosen for you.

- but on further inspection you saw.. what you believed to be, was you on your knees, breasts pressed up against the damp thin tshirt you wore. along with this comprising position was mark’s hand holding your cheeks gently, your lips slick and face a complete mess; eyeliner dripping, eyes teary, the whole nine yards.

- you immediately recognized this photo, nearly tearing your blankets in half as you jumped out of your bed. without much thought you were barging into the bathroom where your lover showered, the man giving you a confused glance though not entirely apposed to your presence.

- “change my contact photo!” you huffed, gripping the phone tight and showcasing it. you watched in absolute disbelief as mark slowly grinned, not at all phased by you finding his dirty little secret.

- “nope.”

- “nope! mark, how old are y— that’s not the issue. change it now! what if someone saw this?!”

- his eyes rolled slowly, “no one touches my phone except you. c’mon it’s a hot picture, lighten up!”

- you didn’t bother in confirming or denying it, eyes squinted at your man who was practically struggling not to laugh at your dismay. a few silent seconds passed before he groaned a bit, a wet hand reaching out towards you.

- “i’ll change it right now, right infront of you.”

- “and use a tasteful picture?”

- “yeah, yeah.”

- you waited a moment before stepping closer, extending his phone— only for a tight grip to come upon your wrist. you scrambled, immediately knowing what he was going to do.

- “mark, n—“

- magically — curtesy of viltrumite speed — mark tossed his phone onto the pile of dirty clothes on the bathroom floor while simultaneously pulling you ( fully clothed mind you ) into the shower with him. you practically shrieked, fighting at the arms that wrapped tightly around you, trying to ignore the mischievous laughter escaping him.

- “you keep falling for that.”

- “you’re such a dick! i’m all wet now, mark!”

- the man would snort, peeling back to glance down at you. “hasn’t been the first time, definitely won’t be the last.” his fingers rose to pluck at the soaked shirt you wore, slowly peeling it off you.

- “now let’s get you out of these clothes, i would hate for you to catch a cold.”

- you would have to badger him later. and since mohawk!mark isn’t a total dick, he will change it to something a little less compromising…

FULL MASK! MARK

- while i don’t believe full mask!mark is timid or anything, when it comes to you he’s a little less ‘aggressive’ (for lack of a better word) when compared to the other variants.

- but that doesn’t mean he’s not just as freaky. meaning.. the man is prone to stealing your panties.

- like the doting boyfriend he was, mark was doing your laundry one day, simply moving the clothes to and from the basket to the washer— easy peasy, no need to fuss.

- except he happened upon a pair of your panties. dark blue, lacey, with such thin material he questioned if it even fully covered you.

- for whatever reason the man got so fixated on that pair, clutching it in his hand for what seemed like thirty minutes before shoving it into his pocket.

- that day, he mulled over it while you were gone, a million thoughts running through his head everytime he shoved his hand into his pocket, feeling the fabric glide across his fingers.

- should he put it back? why did he keep it? how disgusting can you be to take your girlfriend’s dirty underwear?

- but.. all that seemed to cease when mark pulled it from his pocket once again, feeling way to hot the moment his fingers dragged right against the crotch.

- he felt dirty, perverted, everything in between but that didn’t stop him from pressing the fabric against his nose. the man couldn’t help but notice your smell immediately, basically groaning right into the panties as if the single sniff left him high.

- from that point on mark began to steal your panties, always so eager to do laundry just for this reason.. and when he had some time to himself mark would spend it sniffing, licking, even dragging the fabric along his length..

- a true pervert, right to the bone.

- of course, he wasn’t subtle and of course you found out quickly, but you decided to let him have his fun. albeit a little low on underwear, you truly didn’t mind his freakiness.

- until one day the two of you were both home, cooped up in during house chores together; mixed in with a little kissing and groping, it was a good day after all

- you were busy shoving a new load of laundry into the washer whilst mark emptied the dryer, him humming along to the little conversation you had going.

- in the middle of it your hand suddenly grabbed those same blue panties, a fake look of surprise capturing your features.

- “oh, i should probably set these to the side for you.”

- mark hummed for a moment still focused on doing his part until his eyes turned, gaze settling on you— heart dropping the moment he noticed what was in your hand.

- “wh—what?..”

- you gave a sweet smile, shutting the washer close and setting the panties ontop of it.

- “i put it to the side for you. you’re welcome.” you leaned over to stamp a kiss to his cheek, walking off to finish some other task.

- leaving a completely red mark who began to stammer, clearly embarrassed, practically trampling over himself to chase after you.

- that night he makes quick work of apologizing over and over again, not at all convinced by your pretty grins and little “its okay”s.

SHIESTY! MARK

- a groper and humper. even at the worst fucking times.

- will go to sleep with his hands under your shirt, a palm full of your breasts. not even in a he wants to play with them way but in a— that’s the only way he sleeps well way.

- if you wear nightgowns around the house mark is quick to grip your ass, even spank it a little bit just to hear you whine in annoyance.

- do not bend over in his presence, ever. not unless you want strong arms to tug at your hips and for him to hump you like some dog in heat.

- will even add over exaggerated moans and groans just to fuck with you

- “oh yeah, just like that.. feels so good!”

- “mark, get off me!”

- this doesn’t stop just cause the two of you are in public, it may even increase tenfold — outside of the sight of children of course — because mark knows no one will step to him.. cocky bastard.

- imagine grocery shopping and he’s all like “babe can you hand me that” something that’s magically on the bottom shelf. you think nothing of it, trying to be a good girlfriend, you know, and bend to grab it.

- it was a trap. obviously. because like glue mark is slipping behind you, arms tight, and giving you a few pumps.

- you kick up a small fuss, slapping at his hands and throughly embarrassed by his behavior.

- to his credit most times the aisle is empty when this happens, but the one time it wasn’t, instead of stopping; mark winks at the poor guy that passed by.

- to say you were pissed was an understatement, mark spent the rest of that day groveling for you to forgive him.

[2neaky]

Black orchid & patchouli has been in the air ever since the bathroom door opened. Sure, it’s died down some. Yet, still, the source of the smell is present.

Just a foot or two away from him.

She’s in her own world, listening only to her thoughts. 

He knows.

He remembers when she told him that getting dressed is her favorite part of the day. It’s during that time she usually turns her brain off, and allows her body to move on autopilot.

It’s the perfect chance to just simply exist for her.

It’s very calming, he understands.

She looks so at peace as she moves. So lost in her own head that she never really realizes that he’s staring.

He always does.

She doesn’t even know that his favorite part of the day is watching her get ready.

Her limbs move with grace; A true vision when she drops her fluffy, white towel to the bed, baring her body to the privacy of this room.

Their bedroom.

When it comes to moisturizing, her routine is always the same: arms first, abdomen, legs, then feet. Being that they’re just reaching the end of winter, gourmand and cozy scents have her preference as of late.

The scent of today is different, however; light, floral, and warm.

He can’t quite catch the notes—maybe there’s a hint of pepper. But, it isn’t offending. Actually, it works just perfectly on her; an added bit of spice to her sweetness.

So entranced by the smell, he doesn’t even realize how long he’s been pondering on it. He’ll have to ask her about that one, he thinks as he recenters his focus.

She’s moved to her stomach, rubbing the body butter into her skin. Off-white slowly melts into warm brown skin as she takes her time to massage it in.

Her palms, flat against her body, keep going in circles. Circling, circling, circling her lower tummy—right below her navel. So tender, gently pressing into the relaxed muscles of her stomach.

The first thought that pops into his head: a baby. 

He almost laughs out loud, it’s so stupid. So ridiculous how such a simple act—his woman taking care of herself—can get him to think of something so intense. So life changing.

It’s scary, the idea of having a family of his own. But … with her? 

That alone settles him. 

If anyone has the potential to be the perfect mother, it’s her. He believes in her. So much.

“Terry?”

Her voice is pure silk. He almost doesn’t hear it.

“Yeah, baby?”

Taking up the small tub of body butter, she outstretches her hand to him. Its sparkling scent fills the air, it’s all he smells.

“Help me, please?”

He looks up from the swirled butter in the tub to warm brown eyes, staring back at him over a shoulder. 

Her back is presented to him. The divot of her spine runs down its middle, tailed by twin dimples at the small of her back.

Below the left dimple, closer to her hip rather than directly under it, is his name in scripted black ink: 𝑹𝒊𝒄𝒉𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒅. 

It’s so tiny, that his thumb covers it every time he holds her there.

And below that is an ass that he feels blessed to see every day. It sits up, the brown skin smooth and unmarred. She’s got subtle hip dips that give way to wide thighs, granting the prettiest pear-shape. 

He can hardly resist the urge to take a bite every time he sees her this way.

“You never ask me for help,” he smirks, scooting towards the bed’s edge to get closer.

“I know, but … I decided to be a little lazy today,” she smiles. 

And he loves when she does. The way the corners of her eyes crinkle up, adding a comforting sense of familiarity and warmth to the expression.

He feels lucky that’s it’s the first thing he sees when he wakes up, and the last thing he sees when he goes to sleep. That’s a smile he’d love for his child to see, growing up.

He’s not letting this one go, huh?

Wordlessly, he sets the tub down in his lap and scoops a dollop up with a finger. Spreading it over his palm, he then rubs both hands together. The smooth butter warms quickly in his hands.

He starts at her shoulder blades, dragging his hands down her skin. He’s careful, trying to mimic her tenderness. It comes so natural to her, evident in the way her body languidly moves. 

He wonders if she can tell that it isn’t the same for him? The pressure he applies is uneven—unsure. His hands move with the weight of his past, one of a former Marine.

Hands trained to be a weapon, now being used to massage lotion into the tender skin of his love.

They’ve been together for so long. These hands have touched every part of her body, more times than he can even think to count. He knows her body so well, yet still feels as though it’s a privilege that she’s allowed him to be apart of her regimen. Her favorite part of her day.

He takes more crème into his hands; this time his hands run down the spout of her spine, fingers molding to the contours of her body. He makes sure to get her sides, too. Can’t leave those dry.

Then he finally gets to the bottom. His fingers start at the small of her back before they slow spread out. His fingers curl ‘round the bones of her hips, thumbs massaging whatever’s left of the crème into her skin.

His hands do one last pass down her back, then he has to pull them away. 

Standing between his legs, she slowly spins, now presenting her front to him. He swallows. 

First, his eyes fall between her legs to fat lips thinly veiled by a trimmed bed of dark curls. Then, they slowly lift to the basin of her stomach, up her torso, through the valley of her breasts, and finally, to her round face.

A grateful smile is on her full lips, the apples of her cheeks lifted, too.

“Thank you.”

“Of course.”

She smiles at him, still, yet in her eyes there’s contemplation. Her thoughts are rolling over in her head, he can tell. And that’s why he doesn’t pull away—only stays in place, waiting on her next few words.

“You can help me some more, if you want.”

This time, he’s the one smiling, though it’s nowhere near as innocent as hers. Without any objection, he dips a finger back in the tub of lotion and rubs some between his hands.

“Turn around,” he mumbles, matching her quiet volume. 

Each careful step she takes in turning her back to him makes her ass jiggle. And when it’s presented to him once again, he wastes no time making the wide surface shine.

Like a sculptor whose hands mold and shape the clay before them, he kneads the fat with a renewed sense of expertise. He makes sure to cover the fronts of her hips to the flanks of her ass. 

And when he gets those parts, his hands encase her hips and lays two, quick taps to the side of her left cheek. He lets himself smirk, watching the fat ripple.

“Turn around.”

She does it wordlessly, carefully raising her forearms to avoid hitting his head. When they face each other again, he pulls her in close by her waist. Letting temptation win, he presses a smooch right above her belly button.

“Terry,” she giggles.

Wordlessly, he smirks, more so to himself as he sets the tub of lotion to the side.

He gathers more crème onto his hands before they snake behind her, diving for the underside of her bottom. He’s taking his job serious, making sure to moisturize every crevice of skin hidden by a fold—he even lifts it if he has to.

So concentrated on the task, the gentle weight of hands on his shoulders slips by his notice. But, he does realize they’re there when her fingers press into his skin—just as he’s pulls her cheeks apart.

His head cranes up, finding those chocolate brown eyes lower than usual. Much less focused, too.

This time, when he does it again, he doesn’t look away. His fingers reach just a little further, the tips of them barely grazing between her cheeks. His grip gets a little tighter, too, and his hands pull them just a little bit further apart.

For a moment, he holds her open. As the warm air of the room hits her newly exposed parts, her hole clenches. Her pussy even flutters. The reactions her body makes are thoughtless.

And so is the movement of his hand when he swipes a middle finger up her crack, stopping it just over her puckered hole. 

He taps it once. Twice. 

The little thing winks beneath the pad of his finger. His gaze falls to the globes of fat he holds in his big hands. 

“When’s the last time we played back here?”

Shyness bleeds onto her face. She tries to hide it with a lifted shoulder, though the corners of her spreading lips can’t be concealed. 

“A while,” she mumbles.

The sweet sound of a hum made in agreement resounds. Circles of hazel flick upwards to meet her gaze again.

“Yeah … s’been a while, huh? You cleaned good?”

Her heart stammers behind her rib cage. It leaves her almost breathless. 

“Terry,” she warns.

His finger had never moved from that spot. It circles the taught skin. “What? You busy today?”

Her eyes flutter. One of her hands on his shoulders drops to his bicep, giving it a weak squeeze. “Y-yes.”

“Yes to both? And with what?”

As her mouth opens, her words get caught in her throat. That finger applies a soft pressure that sends her pussy into a frenzy.

“Yes, and g-groceries, Terry.” She had almost whined out.

“Aldis not going nowhere.” He smirks up at her.

She shivers, feeling that finger angling to press its tip right at her hole. “The—I don’t want t-to be there when it’s c-crowded.”

He half-shrugs with a clueless frown. “It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.”

She doesn’t say anything to that, which only makes him more determined. It seems he hasn’t fully convinced her to abandon her responsibilities, something he’s been too comfortable doing himself since he met her.

“Remember how wet you got last time?” He leans in closer, face just centimeters away from her pussy as he lowers his voice for her to only hear. “I didn’t even touch her.”

The corners of his mouth raise even higher as he looks into her eyes, seeing them glaze over in real-time as her brain replays the distant memory.

“All I did, was play with—“ His finger double-taps at her un-stretched hole again. “You made such a mess. You think you could do that again?”

She dismisses a whimper as she remembers how she felt like a leaking faucet that night. Beneath her, the sheet was a mess, soaked. Her thighs only trembled as her pussy dribbled, globs of slick rolling down its inner-sides.

Her breath hitches, feeling the rough pad of that finger slide back and forth over her. It’s like a splash of cold water, bringing her back to focus.

The gentle musk of her arousal hits his nose. It mixes deliciously with the scent of her crème.

“I’ll get the groceries this week.”

Her eyes almost cross as that finger presses harder against her hole.

“Just lemme do this.”

‘Yes’ and ‘no’ become a blur in her mind. She doesn’t even hear herself when she mumbles the one beginning with ‘y.’

She didn’t think twice about it when he told her to get on the bed, face down and ass to the sky. The position’s got her open and needy. While the water runs distantly in the background, her brain is fuzzy.

All it can do is conjure up thoughts of how far he’ll go this time. There’s only been one time she took his dick through the back, all other times it was his hand. 

She hopes they can turn that one time into two. The thought almost makes her drool into the pillow.

She doesn’t hear when the bathroom faucet squeaks as it’s closed. Or when Terry emerges from the bathroom, muttering about having to fix that later.

Just feet away from the bed, he admires the picture before him: a gift, all spread out and open for him.

“Now, ain’t you a sight?”

His voice brings her from her reverie. The only response she gives is to reach behind and pull those shiny, smooth cheeks apart to show him how her body yearns for his touch.

Both holes clench. Beads of slick glisten through the hair closest to the opening of her cunt.

He takes slow steps towards her. “Look at the mess I created.” He chuckles to himself, barely shaking his head. “Guess I gotta clean it up, huh?”

Dumbly, her face pressed to the sheets, she nods. 

When he’s finally behind her, his hands take their treasured spots over her hips—left thumb covering his name, as always.

“How should I clean it up, baby?”

Her eyes falls closed as she tries to focus on speaking her thoughts.

“Hm?”

“U-use your tongue, first.”

His face brightens with a toothy smile. “First? Oh, there’s more,” he laughs.

He can’t tell if it’s a hum or a moan she makes, maybe it’s both. But he does understand when she nods.

“Well how you want me to finish the job, when I’m done using my tongue?”

She can hear the amusement in his voice, the smirk on his lips. Quite frankly, she’s too horny to be timid about it.

“Your dick—“

He almost blanches at her boldness. But his shock gives way to a new wave of arousal.

“Want it, Terry,” she speaks breathlessly. “Wanna feel—“ she reaches back again to spread herself again. “—feel full.”

His fingers sink further into the fat of her hips as he gathers all the moisture he can in his mouth. There’s a quick shift of his jaw, then a bullet of spit shoots past his puckered lips and hits his target dead-center.

Her body twitches from the impact. “Oh…” she moans softly.

The translucent, bubbly glob of spit rolls over the tight ring, making it shine. It dribbles down further, slipping down the slide of her crack and finding its way into her shallow bed of curls.

He catches her pussy do a little flutter. The tiny reaction prompts him to lift a hand from a hip, only to slam it back down against her right cheek.

Her back bows inward, a quiet mewl coming from her.

“Yeaah, keep it just like that… Just like … that.”

She hadn’t even heard the shift of his body—only felt his soft, warm, velvety tongue lave against her hole.

A gasp—she almost inches forward before remembering not to run from such pleasure. Terry’s never liked that.

“Mmh…”

There’s a tenderness that spreads throughout her cunt as his hum provides a soft vibration for her. Every time her body bears down, there’s an ache in her core.

He laps against her one more time before pulling the taut skin into his mouth to suck on. There’s hardly any give, but he doesn’t stop. His hands keep her spread apart as he continues burying his face in her ass. 

Terry’s never been a man too scared to get messy, especially when it counts. And when it comes to his woman, trust that it counts.

Slobbing her down, his own spit coats the lower half of his face as he tongues her hole down without coming up for air. The wide, wet muscle is putting in overtime to work her open. 

Her moans goad him on, even if they are muffled by the sheets.

“Mh … mmh,” he groans, eyes closed as he devours her like a meal. 

One hand lifts, immediately falling back down against the plump skin of her asscheek. The spank is sharp, it echoes in her ears.

“Shit,” she hisses, face screwing up as his tongue breaks past her rim.

He pulls back, if only to admire his work so far. In between her cheeks glisten. And, what’s more, is that she’s dripping onto the bed.

Just like last time.

“You like that?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah?”

“Yess, baby, yes.”

Wordlessly, he dives back in. The same hand he used to smack her earlier, leaves its spot once again. 

She anticipates another slap, catches herself almost begging for it, actually. However, she gets a better surprise:

His hand, warm and soft, slides over her pussy with ease to cup it from underneath. She flinches when his fingers barely rub over her swollen clit.

That doesn’t last too long; Terry’s hand retreats, fingers poised just at the opening of her drooling cunt.

With too much ease, both middle and ring fingers slip in.

She whimpers.

They sink right in with wet suction, her pussy spurting around them. His heavy fingers settle comfortably in a familiar spot within her tight and slippery heat as her body seems to instantly mold around them.

Every time Terry’s in it, he almost swears she’s truly an endless portal into ecstasy. 

And while his mind finds itself caught on the wonders of her pussy, his mouth still wrecks her even tighter hole; His tongue digs into her, his fingers are pressing into her G-spot—it all stuns her. She can hardly breathe, feeling him push and prod. 

One particularly loud slurp of his makes her eyes roll back. Her pussy flutters, feeling a glob of his spit roll down her crack.

“Wanna fuck you. Fuck you with my tongue—“

She moans in agreement. The guttural sound transcends past the thick sheets.

“Hold it open.”

Although his voice is low, she still hears every word Terry mutters.

With an abundance of eagerness that her body can barely contain, she reaches back to hold herself open for him. 

As Terry remains knuckles deep within her, aiding in the escape of her sticky sap from her cunt, he pushes his tongue back into her ass.

She sloshes as he fucks his fingers up into her. Milky white and almost frothy cream runs down the palm of his hand to his wrist.

He doesn’t move his head, too desperate for her body to pull away. Instead, he tires himself with fucking into her by dragging his tongue in and out, his pace quickening. The ache of his jaw and the burn of the overworked muscle does nothing to dissuade him. 

One must work for their pleasure, he knows that.

“Oh … ohh … ah—aauhh!”

Her whines work alongside the tightening of her body. He doesn’t stop—doesn’t let up or slow down.

In fact, he receives her orgasm with an open palm, letting her pussy spill into it. Her squirt splashes against his forearm and the bed. And still, his hand never stops.

“Y’know … I was thinking about how much … how much I wanna make you a mom.”

His words come out airy and light, but that doesn’t diminish their effect. Her body responds, clamping tighter around his fingers.

A deep chuckle rises out of him. “You like that?”

Her only response is an incoherent moan as she pushes her hips back on his hand.

“Want me to make you a mommy?”

“Yes,” her voice waivers.

When he pulls his hand out of her, it’s like a great loss. Suddenly, her world is empty without him. She wants to cry.

“Yeah, me too.”

When Terry finally pulls his dick out, he’s got more than enough of her cum on-hand to lube himself up. The creamy mess of her cunt is more than enough material to get him rock hard—not that he wasn’t already.

Taking himself in hand, he slowly lifts his heavy cock and drops it right between her ass cheeks. 

About two inches wide starting at the tip, his dick only gets slightly wider towards the base. Its underside has got that one vein running along it. She always licks at it when presented with such an opportunity.

A heated tint of flushed pink blossoms over the bulbous tip, dying down to a darker shade of brown along his shaft. It curves just to the left, the perfect angle that always seemed to knock against her walls perfectly.

Pulling his hips backward, he watches his dick drag against her supple skin, falling closer towards her center. When it’s just his tip left touching her, he takes ahold of himself at the base and slowly pushes forward.

He slips against her underside, burrowing into her thin bed of curls. The head knocks against her clit, triggering a stronger quake in her thighs.

Terry puckers his lips to spit another thick loogey, watching it land on her puckered rim. It winks back at him.

She can’t tell what goes in first, his thumb or his dick. All she knows is that he’s about nine inches deep in her cunt, and that there’s a thumb sinking into her ass.

There’s a delay before a long-winded, singular moan falls out of her mouth. All of her breath is caught in her chest. Her body is tense.

“Breath, baby. Breathe,” he reminds her.

Her brain buzzes. His words really only get through to her once his hand washes over her back like a cool rag.

That’s all it takes for her body to relax—somewhat at least. Her shoulders relax and her back even sinks inward.

A softer, much shorter moan leaves her, and the arching of her back accentuates the ache caused by his dick pressing against her walls. If either of them would look, they’ll see the outline of him, poking through her lower tummy in a small bulge.

Her pussy, stretched to its capacity, flutters around him, almost like it’s trying to swallow more than it can handle.

“S-so heavy,” she mumbles, gripping the sheets.

“But you like it,” he smiles. “I could tell, hm?”

Terry pushes in the last inch, taking too much joy in the broken whimper that leaves her. She’s suffocating, squeezing him and bathing him in wetness all the same. In this deep, he feels a soft, spongy wall pressing against his tip. 

“What’s that?” He shifts inside, nudging at that wall.

It’s a good thing she doesn’t look back, face too screwed up to see the horrific smile on his face.

“Huh?”

She almost wails out. Her hands twitch, itching to reach for her stomach. To cradle it as the deep ache within her reaches new heights.

“C’mon, talk to me.” 

The rest of his fingers splay out over the small of her back as he pushes his thumb deeper into her ass. The thin stretch of muscle separating the two pleasure zones allows him to feel the curvature of himself, sitting deep in her walls.

“I’m in your stomach?”

Teeth gritted, she nods her head as fast as she can.

“You so quiet already.” Gentle and slow, he pulls out some inches, granting her relief. “I don’t like that.”

He slides his hips back in, pushing his dick right up against her cervix.

“GOD—“

“Yeah, like that.” He pulls out again, only to give her yet another deep stroke. “Keep doing that. Keep talking to me—”

“H-ooh—T-Terry!”

“Yes, baby,” he groans out over the sound of his hips meeting her ass. “Tell me, tell me how good it feels.”

“Ffuuuck!”

She writhes beneath him, shouting out ragged moans as he’s digging her out. 

Every time he pulls out, his dick is wetter and wetter. It goes from shining with her juices to caked in her crème in just a few strokes. 

Around her stretched hole is a mess, covered in her frothy release. It all builds up to the point that some of it sludges down between her legs and falls to the bed.

“Oh … shii—aaugh!”

Her resolve breaks, finally allowing her to press a hand to her stomach. Under her palm, she feels the repeating wave of his dick punching her guts beneath the wall of muscle.

She hisses, feeling his thumb fuck her ass as he pulls her back against his. With every plop of their body’s meeting, her cream splatters against his pelvis. Tiny beads of white fly, landing against his sweat-sheathed skin.

“Gonna need another shower after this, huh?” 

Even as Terry tries to remain cocky, his upper lip twitches as his body starts to react to this pleasure.

“Making a mess.” His stomach clenches. “Th-thought I was s’posed to be cleaning up.” 

He chokes out a bit of laughter, trying to conceal a moan of his own. His words start to blend as the pleasure overtakes him:

“You … creamin’ all over … mmh—“

His eyes threaten to roll back. But just as fast, Terry seems to regain a bit of composure. Enough to lock back in.

Rolling his lips into his mouth, his focus straightens and he gives repeated strokes. They’re dead-on, sharp, and heavy.

She screams out a profanity—he can’t even tell which one because she’s so out of it. But, her body is granted a moment of relief as he stops.

Carefully, he pulls his thumb out of her butt. It shines with her slick. When he looks at her barely stretched hole, clenching around nothing, it’s covered in her cream. 

The sight has him twitching inside of her, causing her body to give him a couple of extra squeezes in response.

“You look so good like this,” he mumbles. As his body starts to weaken, he sways a little. “M’sorry I had to mess you up like this, baby.”

Her only response is a mewl as she tries to fix herself.

Taking the hand he had used previously, he holds himself at the base to pull out of her. And when he’s finally out, it’s like there’s a dick-shaped hole in her stomach. She swears he left an impression inside of her.

Her pussy feels so tender and swollen, clit overly sensitive. And yet, the pain of it all is too good. She misses it. She misses him.

And he can tell, seeing her hole flutter around nothing, stretched out. But she doesn’t have to worry for too long, because he’ll fix that.

Peering down at himself, Terry is marveled at all of the mess between them. His dick, still hard, is a creamy, sticky mess—practically dripping in her release.

At the base is where there’s the most build-up. Loopy off of all the testosterone running through him, he gets an idea that has him swiping up some of the mess with his middle and ring finger. 

With no hesitation, Terry presses the two fingers to her ass. They slide in with ease, even causing a very loud squish.

“Ooouuhh,” she groans. 

Turning her head to the side, Terry’s finally able to see how pleasure contorts her face. Eyes low and unfocused, heavy bottom lip pulled between both rows of teeth, as she begins to slowly rock back and forth. So desperate, she fucks herself on his fingers.

“Just like that … take it, baby. Take it—”

“Oouuh shit, Terry.”

“C’mon.”

“Ooh, fuck—“

Pfffffft.

The sharp sound of air expelling from her cunt as Terry pushes back in, punctuates her sentence. Her mouth drops open, her neck craning against the sheets.

He’s speechless, too. Seeing the way her pussy blows a raspberry around his thick dick, spitting out dribblets of cream against his lower stomach. Some even dribbles out of her.

“Hnnnh,” she whines, pathetically.

Curling his fingers inside of her, he plays with her ass. Throughout this all, his other hand had never left her left hip, thumb still covering his name.

He pulls out halfway, only to push his dick back in.

“Fuck, I love it when she talks to me,” he laughs, breathlessly, throwing his head back. It’s music to his ears, hearing her pussy squirt and fart around him.

So lost in the sound, he doesn’t even notice the way her shoulders twitch as her orgasm crashes into her. It’s not until he feels water hit his pelvis that he looks down.

Around his dick, she squirts. It’s a heavy enough stream. He watches it trickles down both of their thighs, completely drenching the already soaked through sheets.

Without a word, he pulls his fingers out before placing the other hand on her hip. His grip tightens around her.

Leaning more of his weight forward, Terry pushes her arch deeper. “Really gonna … make you a mommy like this—“

She gets no prep as he fucks the arch out of her back and puts her into the mattress. The clap of her ass against his pelvis is almost deafening. 

Her hips are barely off of the bed. Behind them, her legs raise, toes curling tightly as she wails out.

“Keep squeezing me,” he pants, teeth gritted. “Keep fuckin’ … fu-uck—“

He buries his face into her neck, groaning. His ears ring as he shoots off a heavy load in her.

For minutes, they stay connected as Terry tries to regain his breath. His orgasm lasts much longer than he thought it would, filling her to the brim.

When he finally pulls out, mustering enough strength to stand, he watches tiredly as her body pushes out thick globs of their mixed release.

Her pussy is slathered in their mess, certain spots caked up in a frothy white.

He grabs a cheek, pulling it apart from its twin so that he can see it all much clearer.

“You look so good like this,” he mumbles. “Love when you let me use you.”

Mindlessly, he lets a hand fall to his dick. It’s tender, but his hold on himself is light. Still holding her open with the other hand, he gently strokes himself. His hand practically glides over himself, what with all the cum coating his dick.

The sensation, the mess, her—it doesn’t take too much for him to get a semi.

“Fuck, you always make me so horny.”

He gets a knee on the bed, positioning himself directly behind her again.

Sensing his growing closeness, she weakly picks her head up and looks back at him. She’s a vision of wild curls, watery eyes, and bitten-raw lips.

As he gets closer, stroking his hardening dick, he brushes his fat, swelling tip again her lips. Rubbing himself against her, he gathers more of cum, coating himself.

“Terry,” she whines, a soft pout on her lips.

“You too tired?”

He pulls her asscheek further, fully exposing her second hole.

Her plump lips part to speak, but nothing comes out.

“You want me to stop? You could tell me, baby,” he cooes.

Still, he begins rubbing his tip against the much smaller hole. She can feel it throb against her.

“Tell me. Y’know I’ll still get the groceries for you.”

He gives her time to object, to say ‘no,’ while he’s positioning himself at her opening. However, she only watches, her face scrunching even more as he slowly applies pressure.

“I’ll get you whatever you want. Especially when you have our son.”

With little effort, he pops the head in past her rim. A tired smile lifts his lips as she moans out lowly. Her head turns back forward as it falls to the bed.

Weak to the way he uses her body, she simply lies there, taking his dick through the back as he sings his delusions to her (because who said she was going to have a boy).

Even tired, her body tenses with the pressure of his dick sliding in her. He’s not as rough as when he was in her pussy.

This time, his strokes are gentle and shallow. It’s a moderate pace he maintains as he holds her open to see the way he stretches her out.

And it just does something to him; seeing her spent pussy just below, covered in their cum and still leaking while he uses her asshole just the same.

Because, she’s his woman, and he’s going to have every part of her body. Just in the same way that he’s her man, and if she wants him at any time she can have him.

His second orgasm doesn’t take long to come. When he feels it approaching, he carefully pulls out. Taking himself in hand, he gives a few short strokes before painting her ass. 

Streaks of white splatter against the warm brown canvas, making her ass look like toasted buns covered in vanilla drizzle. 

And if he had the energy to, he’d eat her ass again. But this was already a lot, and he can’t lie, he’s exhausted.

Terry can only hope that she won’t be mad that he waited a little longer to get the groceries.

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