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noctiva · 3 days ago

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Flesh + Blood

toby rogers x f!reader [NSFW!]

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WC: 10.1k

Summary: toby usually tries to keep the more violent aspects of his life out of your line of sight, but after a mission gone awry you get a taste of his true self. literally.

CW: 18+ content, filthy dirty nasty shit, descriptions of violence and gore, rough handling, masochistic tendencies + just masochism in general, heavy sadism, biting, blood kink!!!, marking, dead dove don’t come at me, explicit sexual content, unsafe sex, creampie, hair pulling, degradation but also praise (kinky ver. of hurt/comfort), rough oral sex, dirty talk, dacryphilia, CNC if you squint, toby being mean in a hot way, reader is a fuhREAK

Reminder to separate reality from fiction! Some of the acts written here are definitely not recommended to imitate. Be safe!

[also, if you can speak german I’m sorry lmao I used google translate ε-(´∀｀; ) if you can’t speak it just highlight then hit translate!]

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NSFW under the cut! Minors do not interact!

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You had known Toby had a bad day before he even walked through the door.

The morning, had been like any other. Your boyfriend waking you up with soft, sleepy kisses against your neck, your limbs tangled with his beneath the covers. His soft hair tickled your collarbone, his breath warm against your skin as the morning sun shone through the window of the cabin you called home.

"Gotta g-go out today." He had murmured, voice thick with sleep and gravelly - his stubble scratching gently against your jaw. "Boss's orders."

His hands had slid up your body, under the loose t-shirt you had worn to bed - his calloused palms a soothing abrasiveness that quickly smoothed over any disgruntled thoughts about him leaving for the day. Up your stomach, over your ribs, resting just under the swell of your breast to feel your heart beat beneath his touch. "Don't worry, it's an e-easy job. Should only be gone f-for an hour or two."

You had reached up, threading your fingers through his messy, chestnut brown hair - knotted with bedhead, but still so soft as the strands slipped through the gaps. You nodded softly, pulling him in closer, murmuring a gentle 'be safe' next to his ear before pressing a kiss to the lobe.

And Toby had laughed, a sweet, honey-like sound before he lifted his head to look at you proper through his half-lidded eyes. "You-You're sayin' that t-to me?" He had chuckled, a cocky, yet boyish grin stretching across his lips.

God, that smile. It did something to you every single time. How his eyes crinkled up at the corners, and that one dimple that sunk into his unmarred cheek. His teeth, crooked and chipped from too many blows to the face, had a unique quality to them that left you charmed. Every imperfection on Toby, was perfection to you. Even the left half of his face, mangled and scarred, flesh torn from gums to leave his back molars on display at all times.

Grotesque, to most, but to you it was simply captivating. Just another special quirk in the sea of things that made up the man you loved. "You fuh- forget who you're t-talkin' to?" He had chastised you lightly, raising an eyebrow. "Baby, I am the danger. You- You know that."

You did know. But it was so easy to forget, when he was so sweet on you.

"Yeah, I know." You had hummed back to him. "I just forget sometimes, because you're so nice to me."

A little snort of a laugh left Toby, and he rolled his eyes, just before leaning down again to press a gentle kiss between your eyebrows.

"Remind me to j-jog your memory sometime." He had huffed softly. "I'm p-plenty scary."

That had been at just past eleven this morning, and now as you stood in the kitchen - with one of Toby's shirts hanging oversized over your body - it was nearly six. The mid-October sun has already started dipping under the horizon line, filtering in streaks of pink and gold through the window while you busied yourself.

If you didn't, you knew you'd just start to worry - despite the fact that you knew Toby would just make fun of you for doing so.

A paring knife in your hands, you were peeling potatoes whilst humming softly to yourself, a pot of stew simmering on the stove next to you. If he had been out this long, you were sure he must've worked up an appetite, and needed something warm to ward off the chill accumulated in his bones.

Besides, you liked doting on Toby. Liked to see the way his eyes shone when you did something for him just out of the good or your heart - because you loved him. You wanted him to always know that fact, never doubt the love you kept harboured in your heart just for him and him alone. It was more little gestures than big ones; scrubbing bloodstains out of his clothes and patching up holes, tending to wounds he didn't notice he acquired, or cooking dinner like right now.

None of these things felt like chores, they were almost therapeutic. And so as you stood by the stove, chopping potatoes into little cubes, you were blissfully calm despite your boyfriend's extended absence. The television was on in the living room, playing some old rerun movie you had only picked for background noise. The fireplace below it crackled, though it was dying because it had been a little too long since you had thrown in a new log.

Was this domestic bliss? It sure felt like it. Maybe as close to it as you would come, with a literal axe murderer as your chosen partner.

And like a tulpa born straight from your thoughts, the moment your mind wandered back to Toby - the man himself was making an entrance like a freight train.

The front door burst open, so quickly slicing through the soft and cozy atmosphere you had been shrouded in. You couldn't see him, not yet, because the entryway to your home was behind a rounded corner - but you should sure as hell hear him.

The door creaking before it slammed shut. Heavy boots knocking against wood floor. The metallic clang of something hitting the ground (presumably his hatchets), and soft grumbled curses spilling from his lips.

You had been right. You knew there was something off about today.

"Toby?" You call to him, your voice soft and gentle. Not wanting to poke the bear even more than it already had been. Setting the knife down on the cutting board, you quickly shut off the stove and move the pot to a cold burner. Then, with your feet moving faster than your mind was, you make your way out of the kitchen and through the living room. "Are you o-"

The words die on your tongue the moment you round the corner. Now, you were well aware of what Toby did when he left home. Though he hid the gory details from you more often than not, his stained clothes were all of the confirmation you really needed. He was a killer, a good one at that, judging from the little snippets of what he had told you.

But right now, he looked like more than that. He looked like a butcher.

The amount of blood almost didn't look real. Like something out of some gorefest slasher film rather than the authentic remains of a real human being. Toby was coated in it. It was matting in his hair, smeared across the goggles that were pushed up onto his forehead. It was clinging to his eyelashes, dripping down his cheeks and off of his chin. His sweater was drenched, splattered with crimson and torn at the hems - like the fabric had been snagged by the forest brush as he trudged through it.

There was a handprint on his chest, just below his shoulder - smeared and frantic, like someone had been trying to shove him off of them, clawing at the fabric in vain.

Then your eyes trail up again, and god. The look in his eyes.. Dark, somehow both simultaneously dead hollow and wildly crazed. It was almost hard to believe this was the same man who had left the house this morning.

"B-Bitch got away." Snapping you out of your stunned stupor, is Toby's voice - gravelly and strained, sounding almost like he had spent the last hour just screaming his lungs out. You blink a few times, feeling as though his very presence has given you whiplash, before squeaking out;

"What?" Your gaze drops down, eyeing the pool of red accumulating beneath his boots, and you have to ask yourself if at least some of it is his, because there's just so much. Also, you're suddenly very happy you chose hardwood over carpets.

"She- fuck! -She got a-away." Toby repeats himself, his shoulders jerking as an involuntary tic wracks his body. You could hear his joints crack and pop as it happened, a noise that you really never got used to, no matter how much you loved him. He takes a step closer, then another, his boots producing a sickening squelch against the floor. "I fuh- fuckin' gutted her like a damn fish, and she g-got away!"

He's looking down at you, wild eyes glinting in the low light of the entryway, and you can't help but shrink a little. You had never seen him like this. Bloodied and bruised, sure, but never drenched in it - body shaking with unspent adrenaline as he recounted what he had done in graphic detail. "Cut her from here-" He poked your belly button through your shirt with a stained finger, the touch making your whole body tense up. "Up to 'er tits, a-and she still got away. F-Fuckin' scooping up her own guts with her hands as she ran." You look up to meet his eyes, and he's already staring dead straight into yours. "C-Can you believe that?"

He goes silent, looking at you expectantly, and it takes you a few moments to realize that he's actually waiting for an answer. You give him a small, jerky shake of your head, and clear your throat.

"No." You manage out, your voice coming out much softer and shakier than you had meant it to. "That... That doesn't make any sense."

Toby lets out a bark of a laugh, hollow and dry - nothing like the warm and soft chuckle that had graced your ears just this morning. It's a chilling sound, almost maniacal in the way he takes in a wheezing breath afterwards, his head tilting backwards as a warped version of a smile stretches across his lips.

"Yeah, n-no shit." He snorts, before stepping around you and stalking into the living room. You follow, because what the hell else are you supposed to do, collecting blood on the soles of your socked feet as you adhere to the gruesome trail he leaves behind. Toby, pays no mind to any of the mess he's creating, too caught up in his own tumultuous mind to realize that it's starting to look like the murder (or, attempted one, you guess) played out here. "Her friends were easy, maybe t-too easy, but I had expected that! S-She wanted to act like she was t-the fuckin' final girl."

He shrugged off the coat he had been wearing over top of his hoodie, the material falling to the ground with a heavy thump before he started trudging over to the couch. You have to bite your tongue. God, was he going to stain that too? "B-But it might be my fault. The first two were so a-agonizingly easy. So buh-boring. Wanted to have a bit of fun with the last one." He flopped back against the couch and, yup, now your sofa is now smeared with blood as well. "Shoulda just lodged my axe between 'er f-fuckin' eyes."

Something about the way he's speaking, so detached from the acts he committed, made your blood run ice cold in your veins. There's a pit in your stomach, and your chest feels tight every time you take in a quivering breath.

His eyes lift to meet yours from where he's sitting on the sofa, and that's when you realize it.

You're scared of him.

Your palms feel clammy, your heart thudding so hard in your chest that it feels like it's bruising your ribs from the inside. You were scared of him. Of Toby. Never, not once in the years you had been by his side, had you ever felt fear run through your veins while in his presence.

Not when you wiped a few little speckles of blood from his face, not when you sat beside him outside as he sharpened his hatchets, not even on one of his bad days when he would get snappy and snide with you.

But right now? Oh, there was no denying the feeling swirling through your veins like a toxin. You were damn near petrified, and oddly - it was exhilarating.

It was hard to explain exactly what avenue your mind went down, but you were pretty sure it went a little something like this: Toby was always so sweet to you, almost sickeningly so, barely letting you get more than a peek into what he did when those orange goggles of his came down over his eyes. He was hardly ever harsh with you, like you were an angel, and he was scared to sully your spotless white wings with his stained hands. Right now, as he sat before you, eyes cold and his skin growing sticky with drying blood, he was the exact opposite of that. Finally, finally, letting you see every part of who he really is, right down to the gory details.

It made something in you stir. Excitement? Awe? You weren't quite sure. All you knew was that the lead in your stomach was moulding into butterflies.

"Well, she's got to be dead." You murmur, approaching him slowly, eyes locked on him as he settles into the couch - legs spread and his head tilting back against the cushions. Fuck. Were you crazy? Why has he never looked hotter? "If what you said is true, she probably didn't make it far before collapsing. Probably died from blood loss, or shock."

You come to stand before him, right between his knees, and the way he stares up at you has your own nearly buckling under the weight of his gaze. "There's no way she lived."

"Y-You'd think, right?" He hums back to you, his voice low as he leans forwards and rests his elbows on his thighs. "And yet I never found her f-fuckin' corpse. She got away after s-socking me in the nose and I just... Never saw her again. Combed that forest for hours." He reached up, pointing a finger at you. "And you know. You know t-that I know those woods like the b-back of my hand. I looked everywhere." You swallow thickly. "Nothin'. No corpse, no blood trail to lead me to her. The bitch went g-ghost."

"She's dead, Toby. She's got to be. There's just no way." You reassure him. Then, slowly, you sink downwards, folding into a kneel on the ground between his thighs. Wanting to be eye-level, but also, wanting to be closer. Despite the blood - because of the blood - you weren't sure. Your mind was a tangled mix of emotions, and all of them were volatile. Toby watches you, his eyes unreadable as his gaze tracks you moving downwards in his line of sight. "I'm sure you got her."

"Yeah, well." He had noticed your shift in demeanour immediately. Through his clouded mind, there was a shred of guilt that had been prodding at him when he caught sight of the fear in your eyes - so sweet and lovely compared to him, like a scared little rabbit cowering before a pack wolf. It was still there, that anxiety, but it was bordered with something else. Something he couldn't quite put a finger on. Or maybe, something he just didn't think was plausible. "I-It's not a job done unless there's a-a body to show for it." He reaches up, wiping away some of the blood that had begun to drip into his eye, smearing it across his skin in consequence. Your heart leaps. "Brian and Tim are pissed. T-Told 'em I could do this one on my own and look what h-happened."

“Well it’s not your fault.” You breathe back to him, holding his gaze as you place a reassuring hand on his knee - looking up at him through your eyelashes. “How were you supposed to know she would practically be immortal?”

Toby laughs dryly and shakes his head, watching you for a moment before he reaches down and pinches your chin between his fingers. You can feel it as the blood smears against your face, and you can smell it - sickly metallic, almost sour. It made your stomach churn.

“Not immortal, just way t-too determined.” His thumb smooths against your cheek, dark brown eyes watching with interest at the stark red mark he leaves against your soft skin. Pretty. He thinks to himself. Real fucking pretty. He really can’t help it when he tightens his grip a little bit, just to feel how soft you are. How fragile you are.

Your eyes widen minutely, and he lets out a soft hum before dragging his hand up the side of your face - painting the canvas that was his pretty girl’s skin. Might even be prettier if it was your own blood. It takes a lot of willpower on his end to squash that thought down.

Toby would never hurt you, he had sworn that to himself on the first day you had met eyes, but he’d be damned if he said he didn’t think about it sometimes. About how your eyes may look, glassy with tears while your face scrunches up in agony. What specific shade of red your blood is. How it tastes. Smells. How it would look smeared across your perfect tits.

Leaving scarlet handprints on your ass, hips, neck, all just to lick you clean afterwards.

He wouldn’t though. He couldn’t. You were far too lovely for that. Far too gentle to be tainted by the likes of someone like him. It was a miracle you hadn’t been already.

It was getting a little difficult to restrain himself though, when you were kneeled before him looking like something pulled straight from a wet dream. So decadently pure, with trails of his sin streaked across your face.

He could fucking eat you whole if you’d let him.

“Toby?” Your voice, soft like spun silk, pulls his thoughts out of the depravity they had been falling into. He tears his eyes away from where his hand met your cheek, and sinks into your irises instead - which might just be a more dangerous route. Wide, like a deer in the headlights you look up at him, with a slight tremble to your bottom lip that makes his stomach feel hot. Makes his whole body feel hot, like you had set him alight with one look.

He doesn’t respond at first, instead just holding your gaze as his hand slips down. Then his eyes are flickering towards the sight of his fingers instead as he presses his thumb to your bottom lip. He swipes across it, smearing blood on your lip like some grotesque form of lipstick - his breathing stuttering when you’re left with the most decadent shade of red against the soft plushness.

“P-Pretty.” Toby can’t stop himself from saying, his voice just above a whisper. As if in a trance, he pushes his thumb past your lips without a second thought, hooking into your jaw and prying your mouth open. You sputter, face immediately scrunching up at the action.

You can taste it, the blood. Somebody else’s blood, drained from some poor victim Toby had incapacitated. It was pungently metallic, just a tad bitter, and it immediately made your stomach twist when it hit your tastebuds. With eyebrows furrowed you pull away from him, watching how a pink-tinged line of spit connects your mouth to his finger before it breaks.

You spit onto the floor beside you, not caring about the mess because there was already so much to clean up. You just needed the taste out of your mouth. Toby though, he had other plans.

There’s still drool dribbling down your chin when his hand seizes your jaw again, tilting your head back to look at him with a force that made goosebumps prickle your skin. “You d-don’t like it?” He asks as he leans forwards a little, wild eyes boring into yours. His fingers dig into your jaw, with a strength he’s never shown on you before, and suddenly you’re wondering just how much he’s been holding back all of this time.

You shake your head once, before clearing your throat.

“Don’t like the taste.” You murmur, trying to ignore the fact that your body was so easily conceding to him. Scared, but still so willing, still so eager. You could feel your skin heating up more and more with each second that ticked by.

Why? You should be pushing him away, right? Shoving him towards the shower and throwing his bloody clothes in the wash. For some reason though, you just couldn’t. You were disgusted by the taste on your tongue, shaking where you kneeled because of the man before you, and yet you couldn’t force yourself to move. Not even out of fear anymore, out of something worse. Something sick and twisted that had been sleeping for a long time, now clawing its way to the surface with jagged nails.

“No?” Toby presses his fingers to your lips again, this time his pointer and middle finger both - watching you with an intensity that made you squeeze your thighs together. You knew what he was doing. He was testing you. Seeing whether you’d take the bait and give in, or stick to your morals and shove him away for the second time.

Right then, you remember what he had said to you earlier that day. ‘Remind me to jog your memory sometime. I’m plenty scary.’

You wanted more proof of that.

And so you meet his eyes, then slowly part your lips. His pupils practically swallow his irises whole, eyes going damn near black before he’s slipping his blood soaked fingers into your mouth.

Again, you get the acrid taste or blood on your tongue, and it makes your stomach turn just like it did the first time. But you don’t push him off this time, you let him push further, further - until you’re gagging when the tips of his fingers hit the back of your throat. “Lügnerin.” He murmurs darkly, watching with a keen interest as you sputter on his fingers - drool pooling at the corners of your lips. “You d-do like it.”

You whimper around the digits, a sound that even you would admit was pathetic, and it just makes Toby’s lips twist into a wicked grin. The rasp of his mother tongue always did something to you, he knew that and he found it so adorable how you just melted for him when he spoke it - even if you didn’t have the slightest clue what he was saying.

This was just like - no, better than - his wildest dreams. You looked so pretty and pitiful. His sweet girl. His angel. Kneeling before him, just begging to be ruined.

How could he ever deny you? “Y-You’re not as innocent as I thought, huh?” He taps his fingers against your tongue, his eyes glinting dangerously. “Lick ‘em clean.”

Your breath catches in your throat, and for a moment you completely freeze up - aghast by the command he’d just given you. You couldn’t deny how the low drawl of his voice sent tingles straight down to your gut, leaving you shifting where you sat before him. It was a humiliating thing to realize, but the evidence was there, already dampening your panties.

You were incredibly turned on.

You breathe in a breath through your nose, before closing your lips around his fingers - suctioning to them as you began to gently suck. It was filthy. Your mouth coated with a metallic tang, your tongue scrubbing against his rough callouses. It nearly made you gag, and yet you didn’t stop, you kept going - swirling your tongue around the digits until they were spotless, and you were releasing them with a soft ‘pop’.

“Scheiße..” Toby breathes out, his voice rougher than before as he stares down at you. At his two fingers, now starkly cleaner than the rest of his hand. Your lips are stained even more now, and it’s smeared across your chin and cheek, making you look like such a bloody little mess for him. If you let him go this far, you’d let him push more, right?

He wanted you coated in it. Wanted some of it to be your own. Needed to see what face you made when he broke skin. He knew it would be lovely, every part of you was. “S-Such a good fuckin’ girl.” He murmurs, reaching out to cup the side of your face and squeezing softly. “You really d-do like this.” Toby’s voice sounds almost awestruck, and for good reason. Who would’ve ever guessed you wouldn’t mind, scratch that, you liked seeing him like this? A lot more than you were saying, if the way you keep squirming was anything to go by.

Were you already wet? Dripping slick into your panties just from sucking blood off of his hand? His heart thuds like a drum beat in his chest, and he could feel his cock stir in his jeans just from the thought alone. How much could he push you? Just how far would you let him go?

Hell, even if you stopped him here he thinks he’d be satisfied, because what he had just witnessed was prime jerk off material for fucking years to come - but he couldn’t help but want to push his luck, and see how much he could get from you. “You like s-seeing me like this?” He asks softly. “Like seeing proof of w-what I do?”

His hand trails downwards, tracing the line of your jaw before circling your throat. Not squeezing, just resting there, making its presence known. “Makes y-you realize just how fuh-fuckin’ nice I am to you, hm? C-Could kill you so easy i-if I really wanted to.” Now he squeezes, a gentle yet firm pressure against your throat that has your pulse kicking up a notch. “You’d be d-dead before you even knew w-what happened, baby.”

He tightens his grip a little, enough for you to really feel it, and your breathing stutters because it’s already getting hard to breathe and you know he’s still holding back by a lot. “Or maybe, I’d go slow. J-Just to hear your pretty screams.”

He leans down, close enough that you can feel his warm breath fan against your face, and then he’s asking; “Would you l-let me?” It’s a question that has your heart rate spiking, making goosebumps rise over the entire surface of your skin. It’s enough to render you speechless, and so when you don’t respond, he continues. “Would you let me h-hurt you? I’d never really k-kill you, darlin’. Just wanna see you b-bleed.”

And, fuck. Fuck. Those words seemed to be armed with the intention to go straight to your cunt, and that’s exactly what they do. You can feel it as you just grow wetter, your neglected clit throbbing within the confines of your panties. It was a thin pair, something lacy and sheer (just how Toby liked them) but they still felt like too much. Restrictive. Irritating in the way they were a barrier between you and his bare touch.

Had you always been this much of a freak? Maybe. Maybe that’s why you looked past Toby’s profession so easily. Secretly indulging in the thrill, the danger of sharing a bed with someone like him.

Someone who, as he had just made clear, could end your life on a moment’s notice if he really wanted to. The constant uncertainty of another promised day, the silent wonder of if he’d ever snap on you instead.

You had been wanting this. You just hadn’t fully known it until it was staring you right in the face.

“Yeah.” You end up choking out, the last remnants of your self-respect completely flying out the window. If he wouldn’t actually kill you, maybe this was the safest way to dive into the dark desires growing within you. Maybe you wanted to experience every last thing he had been holding back over the years. What would he do to you? What had he been fantasizing about, unbeknownst to you? The uncertainty of it all, is what was making your blood hot. “If… If you really want to.”

“Oh, I want t-to.” Toby murmured softly as he drags his hand back up to your face, before sliding behind your head and pulling you closer by the nape of your neck. Closer to the crotch of his jeans, which - you had noticed but not commented on - had grown a tent in it since you had begun speaking. He really was into this just as much as you were. You suppose that shouldn’t have been a surprise at all. “D-Do you know?” Closer he draws you in, until your chin is brushing against his fly. “Do you know how many t-times I’ve thought about it? D-Dreamt about it? You screaming for me? Really screaming?”

You swallow down a lump in your throat, and you’re still trembling. Haven’t stopped, ever since you knelt before him. It was intoxicating, how he set your mind and body alight. “Y-You’re just so p-precious. So sweet to me. I never wanted to actually d-do it…” His fingers curl into your hair, gripping the strands tight enough for you to wince. “But if you’re asking me to? I won’t want to stop until you’re b-begging. And even then, I-I might not.”

You might just fucking drool from that warning alone. God, how had you not known he had been restraining himself so heavily around you? You had thought it was in his nature to be gentle and sweet, the acts he committed for the entity he served just being something he had to do. But no. He had been craving this for longer than you could imagine. Probably since the first day you met. Had he always viewed you as prey? “Y-You really want that? I don’t wanna buh-break you.”

He smiles, an expression so sweet it almost feels uncanny for the circumstances. “I love you t-too much for that.”

“I want it.” You say before you can really mill over the thought, pure impulse taking over - the craving too strong. “I want it, Toby. I do.”

He hums softly, his eyes darker than you’d ever seen them as he looks you over. You wonder what you look like from his point of view. Bloodied, begging, just centimetres away from his clothed cock. Probably like a feast, and his eyes were flickering like he was just itching to dig in.

“D-Du spielst ein gefährliches spiel, meine Liebe.” And it doesn’t even matter that you don’t know what he’s saying, you can just tell it’s a warning. By the look on his face, how his grip on you tightens to the point of near painful. You know it’s just a taste. He could give you so much more. “Prove it th-then.” He hums softly, finally releasing his hold on you in favour of settling back into the couch cushions once more. He crosses his arms over his chest, cocking an eyebrow as he watches you with an expectant gaze. “Prove that y-you want it, and maybe I-I’ll humour you.”

It was the nonchalance that had you squirming, it was what had your heart racing from the moment you stepped through the door. He wanted this just as much as you did - hell, definitely more than you did - and yet he wasn’t easily cracking like you would’ve expected. It was like he enjoyed the performance of it all, the joy of seeing you sink lower and lower all just to please him. Having his favourite girl beg on her knees for him to paint her crimson? Now isn’t that just a treat.

It takes a moment for you to will your body to move, feeling paralyzed by the sheer potency of dominance radiating off of him. Toby had always been a bit on the commanding side with you in the bedroom, but in a more gentle way.

‘I know you c-can do it for me’.

‘You look so puh-pretty on your knees. Stay just like th-that, okay?”

‘Just a l-little more. You feel so good.”

Tender coaxing. Husky words of encouragement and soft touches to move you how he wanted. You’re realizing though, that may have been a watered down version of how he really wanted to treat you.

You move slowly, your shaking hands raising from your lap to reach for his belt buckle instead. His hips twitch at the action. Eager. Impatient. Your eyes lift to meet his as you start to pull his belt loose, and you feel it as goosebumps raise on the back of your neck - sparking up a chill that travelled all the way down your spine.

Toby was watching you like a hawk, like a predator, tracking each and every movement of yours with a keen interest. It was chilling, really, but the fear just went straight to your core. His belt comes undone, and you don’t even bother pulling it from the loops before you’re popping the button of his jeans.

The fire has died out by now, and the movie you had been playing had finished the ending credits, so it was incredibly silent in the room with him. So much so, that you could hear his every breath. The sound of his zipper being pulled down sounds so incredibly loud. “D-Du bist ein k-krankes kleines ding, nicht wahr?” He’s murmuring right as you’re beginning to tug his briefs down his narrow hips, and he’s normally so cold to the touch - but he’s burning up beneath you right now. “C-Come home c-covered in filth and you j-just drop straight to your knees.”

His cock springs free just inches from your face, and you can’t help but gasp softly. You always felt like you had been blessed when it came to what your boyfriend was endowed with. Long, but not enough to hurt. Thick enough to really feel the stretch. Curved just the right amount, with a vein running up the side and flushed pink at the tip. “Schlampe.” Toby mutters under his breath, right as you feel your mouth start to water.

And you know what that word means. Your eyes dart back up to him immediately, face flushing a deep shade of pink - so perfectly complimenting the blood smeared across your skin.

“I’m not.” You murmur softly as your eyebrows scrunch together, but you close a fist around the base of his length anyway. You hear it when his breathing stutters, and you feel it when his cock jumps at the touch.

“I-I’m not convinced.” He snorts, his eyelids drooping as you pull your hand away to spit into your palm, before returning it to him nice and lubed up. He’s so warm in your hand, already so hard you can feel him throb against your palm. His words make your ears burn, because you know that you’re just proving him right as you lean your head down to lick at the tip.

Toby’s eyes flutter, a satisfied hum rumbling from his chest as you flatten your tongue against him - lapping up all the salty precum that he had already accumulated. God, he tasted good, he always did. Always left you craving more. “D-Du bist eine d-dreckige schlampe.” You’re circling your lips around the head of his cock. “Ich wusste es.”

He’s being mean and you know it, but it just makes you burn hotter as you sink your mouth down onto his length. The drawl to his voice, low and sultry as he spits germanic insults down at you - you can’t help but moan around him as you try to take in more. He’s bumping against the constrictive muscles of your throat, but you can take him if you really put your mind to it. You’ve done it before.

You’re trying to get your throat to relax, breathing in through your nose and getting comfortable - when you suddenly feel a hand on the back of your head. It’s sticky, smearing blood into your soft hair, and then it’s pushing you down.

Immediately your eyes blow open wide as you’re shoved down onto his cock, your throat burning and hot tears immediately springing to your eyes. You gag around him, fingers flying down to dig into his thighs. Your gaze darts up towards him, equal parts bewildered and frantic as you try and blink back the tears. “You were t-taking too long.” He chuckles, his grin wicked and lacking any semblance of remorse. His fingers curl into a fist in your hair, gripping the strands with enough force to make your scalp burn as he pushes you down further - until your nose is bumping against his pelvis. “You wanted this, baby. D-Don’t forget that.”

You can barely breathe, your throat practically convulsing around him as it tries and fails to adjust to the intrusion. Tears cling to your eyelashes before they’re dripping down and landing against Toby’s skin. “Ich liebe es, wenn du weinst.” Even if you squirmed you couldn’t try and get away, the strength of which he’s pushing you down being something you could only dream to fight against. “D-Du siehst so hübsch aus.”

Then he’s yanking you back upwards until just the tip remains between your lips, giving you a second to take in a few gasping breaths through your nose. You try to fill your lungs as much as you can, but it still doesn’t feel like enough when he pulling you down onto him again.

He keeps like that, grip tight on your hair as he bobs your head up and down on his cock, making you taking him to the base each and every time. Your throat feels raw, your ears are fucking ringing, and you can’t see a damn thing through the tears blurring your vision. He’s merciless with it, only giving you seconds at a time to greedily take in air before he’s filling up your throat again.

And yet somehow, you don’t think you’ve ever gotten wetter. Your pussy is throbbing, soaking through your panties and making the fabric cling to your folds. Rubbing your thighs together isn’t even helping, you’re so worked up that it’s nowhere near enough to placate you.

So, as Toby switches to holding your head in place as he bucks his hips up into your drooling mouth, you snake a hand down between your own legs.

Toby, of course, tracks the movement immediately. “Oh, poor baby.” He drawls, his tone dripping with mockery and oh so cruel. “Pussy’s g-gettin’ wet because I’m t-treating you like a wh-whore?” He huffs out, fucking up into your mouth with more vigour and making you let out a strangled whimper. “Du bist so erbärmlich. It’s c-cute.”

You whine around his cock as your fingers slip into your panties, and you waste no time finding your clit and rubbing tight circles against the slick nub. A moan leaves you immediately, vibrating through Toby’s length. He hisses out a curse, his hips stuttering a little at the sensation.

You looked so lovely. Lips stretched around his cock, drool seeping out of the corners of your mouth. Tears streaking your blood smeared skin. Your face flushed a pretty pink shade as you touch yourself almost frantically, brows pinched together in pleasure. It was an image that Toby was sure would be burned into the back of his eyelids for a long time to come.

You were just perfect.

His breathing has grown ragged, heavy huffs of breath leaving his lips each time he fucks deep into your throat. With a hand on each side of your head, your hearing is muffled - the echo chamber of your skull filled with nothing but the obscene ‘schlick, schlick’ of his dick dragging against your tongue.

You’re such a mess that it’s pitiful. There’s a growing pool of your liquids accumulating at the base of his cock and dripping between his thighs - your drool, tears, and even a bit of snot from how brutally he’s been treating your poor face. It’s so filthy, as is the slurping sound you make everytime his length leaves your mouth.

Your fingers pick up the pace - faster, more pressure - chasing the heat brewing low in your gut. Your thighs are shaking, knees aching from kneeling against the hardwood flooring, and it’s so good. So good that you can barely even think anymore, your brain reduced to a puddle of thoughtless mush that sloshed around with each buck of his hips.

Your body feels like it’s on fire. You don’t think you’ve ever felt like this before - just a bundle of desperation and need. Shaking from discomfort with an aching jaw, and yet it’s exactly where you wanted to be.

Then suddenly, you’re yanked off of his cock, which hits his stomach with a wet slap. And you’re blinking up at him, fingers stilling as you silently question him on why on earth he’s stopping. You could keep going for hours if he wanted you to, the aches and pains just something that fuelled your desire even more. “G-Get up here.” He huffs out, reaching down to grab at you before you can even process what he’s said. “Ich muss d-dich spüren.”

Your legs are shaky and sore when you rise, but lucky for you, you’re not standing for long. Toby tugs you onto his lap without hesitation, impatient hands clawing at the fabric of the loose shorts hugging your hips. “Ich werde dich zum Schreien b-bringen.” You shift, making it easier for him to tug the shorts off of you along with your soaked panties. With how he’s being, you’re pretty sure he would’ve just ripped them off if you didn’t. “Ich werde dich z-zum Weinen bringen.”

He slides a hand between your legs, a soft growl rumbling from his chest when he feels just how slick and ready you are for him already. “You’re fuh-fuckin’ dripping.” He hisses out, giving no warning before sliding two fingers (the ones you had already sucked clean) into your leaking cunt. You gasp, your pussy fluttering around the digits at the sudden intrusion - hands flying up to grip at the bloodied fabric of his hoodie.

He’s far from gentle, just like how he warned you he’d be, but at least he was stretching you out a little bit. Pumping his fingers into you, curling them in the way he knows you like. Scissoring them wide, impatiently getting you ready to take him all.

And with how you had already gotten yourself so close, it’s a piece of cake for him to finish the job. You let out a whine, eyes screwing shut as the pads of his fingers rub against your gspot, taking you higher and higher until-

“Toby-“ You moan, your head dropping low to rest against his shoulder, the drying blood feeling cold as it smears against your face. You can feel the knot in your gut tying tighter, and when his thumb comes up to play with your already swollen clit - you know you’re done for. “I can’t- I’m gonna-“

“Y-You gonna cum for me?” He rasps out, just doubling his efforts as your lips part in pleasure. His gaze drops down, catching on the way his thumb smears blood against your folds, and his abandoned cock jumps at the sight. “Wunderschön.” He’s breathless when he speaks, even more so when you start to shake in his hold.

Your hips twitch, thighs tremble, and then you’re melting against him as you cum - pressing your face into his neck as a wave of pleasure washes over you from head to toe. It’s so intense that stars dance behind your eyelids, your breath catching in your throat as you choke out a moan against his skin. “T-That’s it.” Toby murmurs. “Schönes Mädchen.”

He pulls his fingers from you, leaving you whimpering at the loss - but it’s not for long. He grabs you by the waist, tugging you close until you’re positioned right over his leaking cock. “Y-You’re so p-perfect for me.” He murmurs as he reaches down to take hold of himself, swiping the tip through your slick and getting it nice and wet. “Ich liebe dich.”

You know that one too. “I love you more.” You breathe back to him, and then your brows are pinching together as he slowly lowers you down onto him. Even with the small amount of prep he’s given you, it’s still a stretch, making your breathing stutter as you sink down inch by inch - swallowing him up with your sopping wet pussy.

“S-So tight.” He hisses out, grip like a vice on your hips as you take everything he gives you. “F-Fuck, you’re a d-dream.”

You squirm a little once you’re fully seated, your thighs meeting his. He’s pressed right up against your gspot, a constant pressure that sends sparks of pleasure up your spine. He’s so perfect, everything you could ever need and then some. You feel filled to the brim, your walls pulsing around him to the time of your heart beat, eyes glazed over as you raise your head from his neck to look at him.

He smiles. Bloody, crooked, and yet somehow so incredibly charming. Toby gives the sweetest smile you’ve ever seen him produce, as if he wasn’t six inches deep in your blood smeared body. “You look so g-good like this.” He hums, trailing his hands up your sides and bringing your shirt with it, before tugging it off of you completely. Braless, your nipples perk up once they’re exposed to the cold air, and it just makes his grin widen before he’s bringing his palms to your chest.

He kneads the soft flesh, leaving streaks and bloody fingerprints against them, and just like that - he thinks he’s fallen in love all over again. “My girl.” He murmurs as he rolls his hips up, pressing into you more. “My baby.”

Calloused palms slide down the expanse of your abdomen, then settling on your hips again and giving a squeeze. You were so soft. So soft, warm, and pretty. And your pussy - so wet and hot around him, your walls clinging to him like they’ve been molded to the shape of his cock. He could drown in you if you’d let him. “Lettin’ me g-get you all buh-bloody.” He drags against your sensitive core as he pulls you upwards, eyes locked on you face - watching each little change of your expression. “Gonna l-let me give you mo-more? I-Ich möchte dich s-schmecken.”

“More, Toby.” You whimper, voice trembling. Whatever he’s willing to give you, you want. Screaming, crying, breathless - you don’t care. You’ll give it all to him.

“D-Du bist reizend.” He breathes out, just seconds before dropping you onto his length. He fills you up again in such a swift movement it nearly knocks the wind out of you completely, but you don’t even have time to catch your breath. The pace he picks up is just as ruthless as the treatment he had given your throat.

Fast snaps of his hips, deep thrusts, fucking up into you like it’s his only mission in life. It feels like he’s punching the moans out of your lungs, hitting so deep on every stroke that it makes your vision blur around the edges. You can do nothing but take it, your cunt drooling all over him as he bounces you on his lap like a doll.

Toby, is absolutely captivated. You are everything right now. Better than his wildest dreams. The most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on. Mouth dropped open as you cry out and gasp for breath, skin glistening with sweat and streaks of scarlet. Tits bouncing with each thrust, skin rippling in the most enticing way.

He needs to sink his teeth in, and so he does.

With your eyes squeezed shut from pleasure, you don’t even get a warning before he leans forwards and bites down on your neck. Hard.

Immediately, the pain that blossoms from his teeth is something that has your eyes snapping open - momentarily sobering you up and clearing your mind. When he breaks skin, you scream.

A real, genuine, straight from the soul scream. It’s ripped from you, your cunt tightening around him as your whole body tenses up. The feeling of his blunt teeth biting so hard that they tear skin, is something you don’t think you’ll ever forget. It’s a searing pain. The kind that makes your mouth go dry as all the air leaves your lungs.

Instinctively, you reach your hands up to push at his shoulders to free yourself, but he doesn’t budge. If anything, he just bites down harder. Toby moans against you with a mouthful of flesh, snapping his hips up into you harder, his grip tight to keep you right where he wanted you. No amount of struggle or pushback was fazing him. He was so drunk on the taste of you, and the sound of your screams, that every protest was falling on deaf ears.

His jaw finally relaxes, and then he’s pulling away - slowly pulling his teeth from the stark puncture wound now standing out against your previously unmarred neck. He watches as the blood pools in the deepest parts of the wound, then beads up before it drips down - down, over your collarbone, across your chest, sliding down the slope of your breast. Fuck, this is so much better than his dreams.

“Toby-“ You cry as fresh tears well up in your eyes - salty and hot, just like the blood staining Toby’s tongue. Your neck was throbbing, and with how he just kept impaling you on his dick over and over despite your cries, you were beginning to feel a little dizzy. It was a lot for your body to handle, maybe too much. But you’d be damned if you backed down now.

Toby looked feral. You catch his gaze and you swear your heart stops. You’ve seen him in the heat of the moment more times than you could count, but never like this. He looked… Deranged. Absolutely intoxicated by you, and fully sinking into that fact. His pupils were blown wide behind drooping lids, lips smeared with your blood as they stretch into a satisfied smile.

“D-Du schmeckst so s-süß.” His right hand slides downwards, meeting your clit once again with ease. Giving you a few, soothing circles. “I-Ich könnte dich l-lebendig essen.”

Toby seats you back on his dick fully, and then your worldview flips. It’s only once your back hits the couch cushions, that you realize he’s picked you up and pinned you down. “Y-You know how puh-pretty you sound when you scream?” He asks as he shimmies off his jeans fully, staying pressed as deep as possible the entire time. “And those t-tears.. Fuck, y-you’re gorgeous.”

He nuzzles against your neck as he gets comfortable between your legs again, putting a pressure against the bite mark that made you wince. It had just started to settle down from a blinding pain to a dull throb, but it feels like he’s reignited it all over again. “Ich glaube, ich ha-habe vorhin gelogen.” With one hand on your stomach and one on your waist, he’s got your trapped beneath him. “Ich möchte d-dich wirklich b-brechen.”

You feel a tongue against your neck as he begins to rock his hips once more. Gentler this time, finally giving your body a chance to relax. Toby laps up the blood from your neck as he fucks you with slow, shallow strokes, muffling his moans against your skin. Your body arches up into him, your chest meeting his, and you’re gasping right next to his ear. It’s the strangest feeling, having his tongue dip into the pits of the wound he had just made, but the sharp sting is almost welcome. It just feels so… Comforting. Intimate.

Like you’ve never been closer.

Toby pulls his head back, fluffy strands of hair falling against his forehead as he watches you from above. You look like a damn work of art, a sight that makes his breath catch. His gaze travels down to focus on the image of your pretty pussy swallowing him up over and over. Stretching around him. Leaving him glistening with slick everytime he pulled out. Then, his eyes lift, and he’s focusing on the blood smearing your stomach and chest. Higher, his eyes trace the shape of the mark he left on you. Finally, they stop at your face - contorted in pleasure and streaked with tears. “Y-You’re so b-beautiful.” He gasps out, nails sinking into your skin as he starts pulling your body back to meet his thrusts.

Your body shifts and slides against the couch cushions, already damp with sweat and blood. He’s got you taking his whole length again, making sure to bury himself to the hilt on every single stroke - his pelvis bumping against your clit. “I love you.” He moans softly to the melody of his skin hitting yours. His voice is so sweet and gentle, just like in the morning. A reminder that he was still the exact same man.

“I-I love you, Toby.” You choke out, just barely getting the words out between gasps and moans. You were nearing another peak. Could feel it brewing and growing hotter with each snap of Toby’s hips. His hands slip down and around to your ass, large palms splaying against each cheek and keeping you nice and spread open while he gets lost in your heat.

You just barely see it through your hazy vision as he leans down once more, but you notice his lips parting. At least this time, you’re getting a bit of a heads-up.

His teeth meet your skin again, this time your shoulder, and he bites down so quick it takes a moment for the pain to even register. But once it does, it’s even worse than the last one. Again, you yelp, crying and squirming beneath him hopelessly as he sinks his canines deeper into your flesh. Right into the muscle, it feels like, when his jaw locks into you harder.

It’s excruciating. A blinding pain that makes your head feel fuzzy. What you were feeling right now, with Toby latched onto your shoulder while he pounded into you, was something you couldn’t quite understand. Did you hate this, or love it? Did you want to push him away, or draw him in closer? Was it pain or pleasure?

The answer to each question, was a resounding ‘I don’t know’.

Your body seemed to decide before your mind did though, because you find yourself reaching up for him with a trembling hand. Into his hair your fingers thread - not tugging or pulling, just cupping the back of his head. Holding him there as he tears at your flesh. You think you would do the exact same thing even if he started pulling meat from bone.

You feel like you’re melding into him, becoming one as the warmth of your blood drips down into his throat. The pain started to do something funny as he released your shoulder before biting down again just a few inches below. It wasn’t distracting from the pleasure anymore, it was heightening it. Two opposites swirling together to form something new and exhilarating.

Toby notices the moment it happens, feeling how you relaxed so sweetly into his brutal hold. His nails bite into your hips, surely leaving scratches and bruises behind - just a few more marks to add to the collection he’s already given you.

“P-Perfect.” He breathes once he pulls back again, mouth smeared with blood and his teeth stained with it. Toby looked like a rabid beast in your eyes, and you were his willing victim. He wasn’t all violence and ferocity though, you could tell as you looked into his eyes through your blurry vision. His gaze was teeming with nothing but love. A tad obsessive, a little warped, but love nonetheless.

It makes your heart swell. “Y-You’re everything t-to me, you know that?” He tells you softly, rolling his hips deeper as he feels your walls start to flutter around him. Your blood drips down his jaw, glinting in the low light of the living room. You don’t think he’s ever looked more handsome.

Without a thought in your mind, you pull him in with the hand you still have placed on the back of his head - pressing your lips to his in a messy kiss. You can taste your own blood, even more so when he slips his tongue past your parted lips with a groan. It’s sloppy and crude, blood and drool smearing against both of your faces as you drink each other in. “Wenn ich ein b-besserer Mann wäre, würde ich d-dich heiraten.” He gasps against you after pulling away minutely, such filthy noises spilling from his lips and falling straight into yours. “Du verdienst alles.”

Your fingers fist into his hair, now gripping hard enough that you know it would hurt him if he could feel it. But he couldn’t, so you just tug harder as his length slides against your convulsing core.

“Toby-“ You cry in an attempt to warn him of your impending release, but he doesn’t even need you to.

“I-I know, baby. I know.” Toby groans, then leaning in just a little closer again to catch your bottom lip between his teeth. You’re expecting it now before he even spilts it with his canines. You can’t even taste it when blood gushes into your mouth, your tastebuds already completely coated in that metallic tang. “G-Give it to me.” He rasps out once he tears his teeth from the supple flesh.

And you do, you give him everything. One hand pulling his hair until his scalp went raw, and the other one clawing at his bicep - you tumble over the edge for the second time in a flurry of gasps and moans. Your legs lock around his hips, squeezing him tight as your cunt just squeezes harder - pulsing around him, sucking him in like you never wanted to let him go.

You didn’t. You could die like this and be a happy woman. “A-Ah, fuck.” Toby groans out, head dropping low as he fucks into you with even more vigour. Chasing his own release while prolonging yours. With stars in your eyes and ears ringing, your body trembles beneath him as his hips begin to stutter.

And you suppose you should’ve predicted what he did next. Right as you feel him start to throb inside you, he reaches for your hand and yanks it from where it had been gripping his shoulder. Toby seizes your wrist, letting out a gravelly moan just before he presses his lips to your forearm.

Teeth break skin again right as you feel him spill inside you. Hot ropes of his release, pulled in deep by your still convulsing body. Even hotter waves of painful pleasure washing over you like he had cast a spell.

His thrusts go lazy, still pumping into you as his spend gushes out around his softening cock - just adding to the mess you’re already coated in. He pulls out of your body first, then tugs his teeth from your arm second.

When he looks back to you, you feel your joints go gooey. His eyes are so warm and satisfied as he parts his lips, holding your gaze as his tongue darts out to lick at your newest wound. It’s comforting in the strangest way, and it’s the sickest form of sweetness when he’s pressing kisses to it just moments later.

He does that for every single one. Peppering kisses against each tooth shaped indentation, lapping at the blood until you’re left (relatively) clean. Raw, red puncture wounds that had already begun to swell, but each kiss makes the throbbing dull.

“S-Sorry.” He murmurs softly, lips brushing against your sensitive skin. “Y-You don’t even ha-have to say it. I know I-I went too far.”

Your body feels like it’s been drained of all of its energy, weak and sore all over, but you still force yourself to shake your head. Your arms feel like they’re made of lead when you lift them, pain rippling from your neck downwards - but you wrap them around him anyway.

“No you didn’t.” You whisper back, with a throat so raw that your voice comes out hoarse. “I’m alright.”

Toby relaxes a little at your gentle reassurance, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck and letting out a shaky sigh.

“Y-You sure?” He asks, just to be certain. You were still trembling, muscles sore and stiff as you held him close. “I-If you hate me now, I wouldn’t buh-blame you.”

You let out a short breath through your nose and shake your head again.

“I could never hate you.”

—————————————————————————☆

the toby brainworms were eating me alive so I started writing this and then just kept writing and writing and ended up with 10k words of pure filth

if my invite request ever gets accepted on ao3 I’ll post it there too but for now this is a tumblr exclusive lols

thanks for reading! ♡

#toby rogers x reader #ticci toby x reader #ticci toby x you #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta x female reader #creepypasta x you #ticci toby smut #toby rogers smut #creepypasta #ticci toby #toby rogers #creepypasta headcanon

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sugarplum217 · 2 days ago

Text

The Fire We Make (Part Two)

Pairing: Terry Richmond X Black Female/Plus Size/Curvy Reader, MDNI

Warnings: very heavy smut, unprotected sex, nasty & dirty talk, mention’s of abuse, triggering topics, not suitable for anyone under 18+, oral sex, sort of a slow burn, casual sex, fluff, use of the N word, AAVE, somewhat age gap relationship, mentions of verbal abuse, use of abusive lanuage, alcohol usage, mentions of female masturbation, mentions of sexual assault and drug use, oral sex (female recieving) please

Authors Note: Please excuse any errors or mistakes, I hope you enjoy and please be kind.

Summary: You were supposed to be focused, handling your Nana’s last wishes, getting this house in order, and most importantly, staying out of trouble. But how the hell were you supposed to do that when trouble was six-foot-something, built like a sin, and living under the same damn roof? Terry was already making it hard to keep your thoughts pure, but when a little liquor enters the mix? Whew. The lines start blurring, the tension gets thicker, and suddenly, the two of you are toeing a line that neither of you might be ready to cross. But with confessions spilling, dangerous heat rising, and that fine ass man looking at you like he’s ready to ruin your whole damn world… staying away? Yeah. That might not be an damn option anymore.

You always knew your Nana had a funny way of doing things, but damn, you didn’t expect her to leave you damn near lost in the sauce when it came to handling her last wishes. You swore this woman had an aversion to clear instructions. You should’ve known better. Nana never wrote shit down, not a recipe, not a schedule, not even a damn grocery list. Everything she did was off instinct. She’d always tell you, “Baby, just follow your heart. It’ll lead you where you need to go.” That was cute and all, but what the hell was your heart supposed to do when you were knee deep in paperwork, fighting through legal vocabulary, and trying to make sure her precious land didn’t end up in the wrong hands?

You’d spent the past few days drowning in documents, back-and-forth phone calls with a bunch of old Southern men who thought you were just some clueless city girl, and running errands that felt like they had no end in sight. On top of all that, you had to deal with a whole grown-ass man—a man that was so damn fine he had your hormones setting up camp in your ovaries and throwing a block party every time he walked in the room.

This random-ass nigga Terry, the so-called “helper” who was supposed to be here to assist you, was doing the complete opposite. This man was a walking sexual healing, word to Marvin Gaye. The shit was becoming ridiculous. Your pussy damn near fell through your panties every single time he walked by.

Broad ass shoulders, arms cut like he was hand-carved by the gods, abs that looked like they belonged on a sculpture in a museum. And that face? Whew. That was a whole different kind of fine. I mean, not the kind of fine you run across too many times in life. Terry had one of them strong, grown man faces, sharp jaw, full lips, and for godsake those unique colored eyes that held a storm behind them. He looked like he had a past, like he’d been through some dangerous shit, like he was the type to handle business when necessary. In other words, he looked like the kind of trouble you had no business entertaining. Especially not in the frame of mind you were in, for crying out loud you were still technically grieving. But the way your body reacted? The way your thighs clenched every time his deep ass voice hit your ears? The way your nipples betrayed you whenever he got too close? Yeah… this wasn’t just simple attraction. This was some next level, soul-stirring, I need to be baptized immediately type of undeniable lust.

The sun had been on demon time all damn day. You swore the devil himself had blown his hot-ass breath straight onto the state. It wasn’t just hot—it was disrespectfully hot. The type of heat that made the air stifling and thick as well as made your skin sticky. Had you questioning if you should just go lay down and let Jesus take the wheel. At the moment you were currently outside, sitting on the porch, trying not to pass out from heat stroke. Your leopard-print Fashion Nova romper wasn’t doing much to keep you cool—it was thin and barely there, clinging to your curves like it had an agenda of its own. You didn’t care, though. If these country men could walk around in nothing but basketball shorts and tank tops, you could wear your little booty-clapper romper in peace.

With a lemon-flavored popsicle in hand, you scrolled mindlessly on your phone, music blasting through your AirPods. You weren’t even paying attention to the world around you. At least, not until you looked up and saw him. Terry was out in the yard, shirtless, sweat glistening on his golden-brown skin like he was made of pure temptation. He had the lawn mower in a firm grip, pushing it across the grass with ease, the muscles in his back flexing with every movement. His broad shoulders and cut biceps worked as he maneuvered the machine, sweat dripping down the hard planes of his chest, sliding over his abs, disappearing into the waistband of his basketball shorts.

“Lord, have mercy…” You whispered under your breath. Your stomach clenched, thighs instantly pressing together on instinct. You weren’t even paying much attention to how hot it was anymore. Not when Terry was giving you a show.

The way he moved—slow, controlled, powerful—had your mind going straight to the gutter. You bit your lip, watching him like you had no damn home training. Your mouth went dry, but you refused to blame the heat. This was all him. The way the sun kissed his rich caramel skin? The way his jaw clenched in concentration? The way his thick ass thighs flexed every time he took a step? Terry was a whole ass problem.

You took a slow pull from your popsicle, sucking the tip into your mouth as your eyes stayed glued to the scene in front of you while you leaned back on your elbows, stretching your legs out in front of you, letting the sun warm your skin as you continued to watch him work. You intensely watched as the lawn mower moved slow and steady under his firm grip, his strong hands flexing around the handle as he guided it across the thick grass with impeccable controlled precision. Every push made his biceps tighten, the muscles in his shoulders rolling under his skin like waves. His back flexed, broad and cut, tapering down to a slim waist and thick thighs that held all the power he was working with. He definitely made yard work look sinful. The deep hum of the lawn mower vibrated through the air, but it wasn’t enough to drown out your thoughts. You shifted again, your thighs pressing together, trying to ignore the growing wetness that had started to turn noticeably sticky against the seat of your romper.

Truth be told you knew it had been a minute since you got some. And it wasn’t just about sex—you needed something real. Not some half-ass, two-pump, let-me-get-mine type of situation. No, you needed a man who knew how to handle a woman like you. A man who knew how to grab you, flip you, make you forget your own damn name. Most men didn’t know what to do with a woman built like you—soft in all the right places, curves that needed to be held properly. The kind of body that required strength. The kind of body that needed a man who wasn’t afraid to take control, to pin you down, to make you feel every inch of him until you were running from it. And something in the back of your mind told you Terry was that kind of man. Now you knew damn well in the back of your mind , you weren’t supposed to be lusting after this man. You were supposed to be focused. But the way your body was reacting? The way your heartbeat was drumming between your legs? Baby… focus was nowhere to be found.

“Shit…” You muttered under your breath, shifting in your seat. You bit your lip, trying to steady your breathing as your thighs lazily parted open, wanting to give him a view of exactly what he was working with. The thin leopard-print romper did nothing to hide the soft, fat flips beneath it, and you dared Terry to notice. Terry clearly must’ve felt you staring after a while because suddenly, he looked up, eyes locking straight right at you. Your lips wrapped around the popsicle before you could think better of it, your tongue flicking against the tip in a slow, deliberate motion. His eyes darkened while a slow smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he took you in, legs parted, skin glowing, sitting there like temptation itself while sucking on something cold to keep from melting in this heat. Or maybe to keep from melting under his heat. You could’ve looked away. Could’ve played it off. But instead, you held his gaze and dragged your tongue along the side of the popsicle, purring at the refreshing taste. Terry’s smirk deepened. He dragged a hand over his head, wiping away sweat, and took his sweet time looking you over—eyes traveling from your thighs to your lips, lingering for just a second too long. While he took his own glances.

Your eyes dragged lower, following the slow, tantalizing trail of sweat dripping down his abs, rolling over the deep-cut lines of his V. The way his muscles flexed with every movement, the way that sheen of sweat made his caramel skin glisten under the ruthless South Carolina sun—it was sinful. You could see it. The way those sharp dips led right beneath the waistband of his basketball shorts, teasing at what was beneath. That print, that damn thick dick print, sitting heavy between his thighs, made your mouth damn near water. Your fingers tightened around the melting popsicle, lips parting slightly as your breathing turned shallow. You didn’t even realize he had stopped pushing the mower by this point. Hell, you didn’t even notice how hard he was staring right back at you. Your mind was complete mush. His gaze wasn’t on your face, though. Wasn’t even on your parted lips or the way your chest rose and fell beneath your thin romper. No, Terry was looking right between your thighs. Your legs were still lazily parted, the soft, fat flesh of your pussy lips spilling over the seat of your romper in a way that had his stormy ocean like eyes darkening, narrowing slightly. And then , he noticed that little glint of the diamond metal sitting exactly where his tongue wanted to be. His jaw flexed and his grip on the mower tightened. His nostrils flared just slightly, envisioning what your pussy looks beneath that romper. The way he was looking at you? Like he was imagining spreading those thighs wider, getting a real close look at that piercing, letting his tongue play with it just to hear how sweet you’d sound moaning his name. Terry’s slow stare continued to drag up and down your body, lingering on that juicy space between your thick thighs. His tongue peeked out, swiping across his bottom lip as he eyed you like he was trying to decide if he was about to fuck around and make a bad decision.

The air between you two was thick and dripping with animalistic lust and deep sexual tension. By this point your entire body felt as though it was buzzing, waiting for him to say something, do something—Then your phone rang, loud as hell might I add. You damn near jumped out of your skin, startled, the sound snatching you straight out of your dirty-ass thoughts. In your rush to grab the phone, you choked on the popsicle juice sliding down your throat, coughing as your eyes watered. Terry huffed a quiet chuckle, shaking his head before turning back to his work. That only made it worse. Now you were sitting here, hot, pussy throbbing and wet, and embarrassed, struggling to breathe while he went right back to pushing that damn lawn mower like he hadn’t just had you about to risk your soul in broad daylight.

“Hello?” You answered, trying to steady your voice and not sound flustered.

“Miss Walker?” The voice on the other end came through.

You swallowed hard, still trying to steady your voice. “Uh, yeah. This is her.”

“This is Veronica Kincaid, the realtor you called about your grandmother’s land. I wanted to touch base since I’ll be coming by tomorrow evening to do an initial walk-through of the property.” The realtor stated.

You squeezed your eyes shut, pressing a hand to your forehead. Of course the realtor would pick now, right now—to call you. And of course your voice still sounded all breathy and flustered like you’d just been caught doing something you had no business doing. Which… technically, you had.

“Right, right. Veronica. Got it. Uh, so… what time were you thinking?”

You cleared your throat, shifting once again, getting up off the chair to head inside the house. The gentle flow of the air condition kissed your skin soon as you went inside the house and you were oh so grateful. You tucked your phone between your ear and shoulder as you migrated to the kitchen to grab a much needed ice cold glass of water.

“Well, I was hoping for around five, if that works for you? I know it’s short notice, but I had an opening, and I wanted to make sure we got ahead of any potential buyers who might be interested.” She explained.

“Yeah, yeah, five is cool. I’ll be here.” You nodded, even though she couldn’t see you. You grabbed a cold bottle of water from the fridge and opened it, immediately gulping it down.

“Great! And just to confirm, we’ll be looking at the full property today? The house and the surrounding land?” Veronica gently inquired. Your eyes flicked back to Terry outside through the kitchen window, who was still working, still glistening in that sun like the temptation he was. You exhaled slowly, pressing your thighs together again.

“Yeah,” you murmured, voice lower than it should’ve been. “The whole thing.”

“Alright, perfect! And if you have those documents ready, we can go over them when I arrive.” She requested, making you scrunch up your face confused. Documents? You thought to yourself. Your brain was fried. Not just from the heat but from that damn man outside looking like a walking sexual healing.

You barely managed, “Yeah, I’ll have everything ready,” before rushing her off the phone with a hasty, “I’ll see you tomorrow Veronica, alright bye.”

The second the call ended, you dropped your phone onto the counter and pressed your palms to your thighs, inhaling deeply. You clearly needed a moment, but apparently, God wasn’t done testing you today. Because not even a second later, Terry walked into the kitchen. You instantly stiffened up soon as he crossed the threshold, making your body react yet again. It wasn’t enough that he was fine as hell, now he had the nerve to smell good, too? Like fresh-cut grass, sun, and something deep and masculine that made your thighs press together on instinct. Terry didn’t say a word as he went straight to the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water, twisting off the cap with one hand like it was nothing. You tried to focus on Veronica’s voice in your ear, but then he slowly tilted his head back with his eyes closed. His throat flexing as he gulped down the water, droplets escaping down his chin, rolling over the slight scruff lining his jaw before dripping onto his ridiculously cut chest.

“Oh, fuck.” You uttered barely audible, thanking the heavens he didn’t hear you. Your brain short-circuited and all you could see was the way his lips wrapped around that bottle, the way his Adam’s apple bobbed with every swallow, and suddenly, you weren’t picturing water anymore. No, now you were picturing your own creamy essence dripping down that chin, sliding down his jaw, his lips shiny with your sweet juices. Terry glanced at you mid-sip, catching the way you were gawking at him, before lowering the bottle and licking his lips.

“You good?” His deep voice carried that smooth, teasing edge.

“Mmhmm.” You swallowed hard, nodding quickly, forcing a tight lipped smile. Terry lifted a brow like he wasn’t buying that shit at all but didn’t press. Instead, he leaned against the counter, smirking slightly.

“Hot as hell out there, huh?” He teased, taking another swig from his water.

You huffed, waving a hand. “Yeah, I can’t do this shit. It’s too hot.”

“Can’t hang, huh?” That low chuckle of his sent a shiver down your spine. You rolled your eyes, but you didn’t even have the strength to argue. Your body was over it. As you grabbed your phone again, scrolling for the information Veronica needed, Terry took his time looking you over—really looking. Up close, he had an unobstructed view of what that leopard-print romper was doing to your figure. The way it clung to every curve, the way it barely covered your ass—or didn’t at all. That fabric had disappeared between your cheeks like it belonged there. Terry licked his lips, his mind going places it had no business going. All he could see was you bent over for him, those thick thighs trembling, that ass bouncing as he made you take every inch. A cornbread-fed body like yours? The type with thick thighs, soft rolls, and an ass that could smother a man to death? Yeah, that was his weakness. There were about a hundred ways he could make you run from him, and he knew that shit for a fact. His mind was deep in the gutter and he knew it as he watched you concentrate on your phone with your entire upper half of your body perched across the counter. Your ass poked out while you were arched just right for his liking. You didn’t even realize the way your ass swallowed the romper of we’re being honest or that he was looking at you like he was picturing it bouncing on his lap. As much as Terry didn’t want to, he knew he had to snap the hell out of it before he fucked around and found out.

“So… have you talked to the realtor yet?” He asked , clearing his throat, he shifted his stance and forced himself to focus. You glanced up, raising a brow like you knew he was just pulling himself out of a real deep thought.

“Yeah,” You said slowly, eyes narrowing slightly. “She’s coming by tomorrow evening.”

“That was quick.” He nodded, eyes still lingering on you, trying to gauge you.

“Trying to get shit handled as quick as possible so I can figure everything else out and not be here longer than I need to be.” You sighed, rubbing your temples. Terry let out a small chuckle, slightly shaking his head as his eyes lingered on you for a beat too long.

“Guess we’ll see what she has to say then.” He said stoically , expression unreadable.

“Guess we will,” You murmured. Avoiding his eyes as you fidgeted with your phone. The subtle ache from his lawn mowing performance is still evident.

“Aight, well I’m gon’ take a shower. If you need me just knock on my door.” Terry tapped his fingers against the counter before speaking again.

“I will.” You nodded, not bothering to meet his eyes. Terry gave a simple head nod, before turning the opposite direction, and heading out of the kitchen to get his shower. You let out a breath you hadn’t even realized you were holding until you heard a door close from down the hall. You immediately snatched your phone and dialed Tasha. The entire time you had been staying here, you were putting her up on game.

“This heffa better pick up this fucking phone—.” You were cut off by her picking up on the first ring.

“Bitch… this better be good. I’m trying to do my nails.” She dragged out, knowingly.

“Tasha...” You groaned.

“Tell me why you sound like you just had a whole orgasm.” She twisted up her face as if you could see, laughing softly on the other end.

“Because, bitch, I might have.” You got up from in front of the counter, migrating into the living room and dropping onto the couch, covering your face.

“Oh no. What did Terry do now?” Tasha cackled loudly. You adjusted the phone on your ear, not bothering to use your AirPods .

“It’s not what he did, Tasha. It’s just… him existing.” You sighed loudly, fanning yourself dramatically.

“Damn. It’s that bad?” She snickered.

“No, girl. It’s worse.” You exhaled, flopping back against the cushions. “This nigga got the nerve to be outside, shirtless, cutting grass like he’s auditioning for a damn porno. And then he comes inside, drenched in sweat, drinking water like he knows what he’s doing.”

Tasha wheezed. “Did you damn near suck the air out of the room watching him?”

“…I might’ve choked on my popsicle.” You embarrassingly admitted. Dead silence. Then— She SCREAMED.

“BITCHHHHHH.” She hollered out, doubling over in laughter.

You groaned. “I fucking hate you.”

“Nah, I love this for you,” She snickered. “But, uh, be careful. That man sounds like he’s about to be all in your guts real soon.”

“Lord please… don’t say that Tasha.” You whined, feeling your heart rate speed up. Your legs crossed tight at the thought. Because the Lord knew you wanted it. And by the way Terry had been looking at you today? He might’ve wanted it just as bad.

“Girl, I’m just saying… it’s been a minute since you got that back cracked open like a lobster! When was the last time you had a man deep inside you making you forget all your worries, hmm?” Tasha asked, her voice playful but full of intent.

You groaned, throwing your head back against the couch, phone wedged between your shoulder and ear. “Damn, Tasha. You really gotta ask me that?”

“Yes, I do! ‘Cause the way you soundin’ all flustered and stressed out over this man, I know you need some relief. So spill it.” She pestered. You hesitated, lips pressing together. The truth was, it had been a minute. Too damn long. And the last time? Whew… the last time was with Rahmello, better known as Rome. That fine, toxic-ass sneaky link who had you sprung even though you swore up and down you weren’t. He wasn’t Terry fine, but he was still fine in his own right. Tall, built, skin the color of fresh coffee, and a smile that could charm the lace off a nun. The sex was fire. He was the only one who truly knew how to touch you, how to work your body like he had a damn manual. And Lord, did he love to hear you moan.

But Rome wasn’t on or about shit. He never wanted to leave your apartment after laying the pipe like his name was Mario. Not because of your body—oh no, he worshipped every damn inch of you—but because he was still technically with his baby mama and didn’t want that smoke. A coward. A man who thrived off the thrill but would never step up. So yeah… he was the last man you’d been with. And it had been two years.

“Girl, why is you so quiet? You reminiscing, huh? I knew it!” Tasha’s voice pulled you back to the present.

You scoffed. “First of all, shut up. Second of all… I ain’t reminiscing. I’m just—”

“Just realizing it’s been too damn long since you had some real dick,” She cut in, making you roll your eyes.

“Tasha, I am NOT about to be fuckin’ this man. I came down here to honor Nana’s wishes, not get caught up with some stranger!” You sighed dramatically.

“Oh, so now he’s just some stranger? You ain’t been drooling over him for the past three days? Girl, please.” She amusingly scoffed.

“That’s beside the point. The point is—I’m keeping it together.” You sucked your teeth.

“Nah, the point is, you're scared. You afraid that if you let that man touch you, it’s over for you.” Tasha snorted.

Silence.

Then, you exhaled through your nose. “YES, HOE! THAT IS EXACTLY WHAT I’M AFRAID OF!”

“I KNEW IT! I KNEW IT! Oh my God—bitch, you actin’ like this nigga ‘bout to have you outside his window with a boombox, playin’ love songs n’ shit!” Tasha hollered, practically puncturing your eardrum.

“Tasha, I just KNOW that nigga got some demon dick. He look like he will have me screamin’, I GOT THE BIKE, HOLIDAY!” You covered your face with one hand, laughing despite yourself.

“STOPPPP! STOP IT RIGHT NOW! I CAN’T BREATHE!” Tasha was screaming now, full-on hollering through the phone.

“I’m serious! This man just look like he’ll have me actin’ a damn fool. And I don’t have the time or the mental capacity for that kinda stress.”You laughed too, shaking your head as you fanned yourself.

Tasha finally calmed down enough to catch her breath. “Whew… girl. I get it, I really do. But, for real—for real… if you keep fightin’ it this hard, that just means you already in too deep.”

You rolled your eyes, but deep down, you knew she had a point. You just weren’t ready to admit it yet. After spending another few minutes on the phone with Tasha. You realized you needed to take care of the constant yearn that was deep inside your belly. The ache between your legs was damn near unbearable. No amount of squeezing your thighs together, shifting in your seat, or deep breathing was doing a damn thing to make it go away. And it was all of his sexy ass fault. Terry had no business looking that damn good, smelling that damn good, and moving the way he did. Your body had been on high alert from the moment you saw him out there mowing the lawn, and now, after that whole scene in the kitchen, your nerves were shot, and your body was begging for relief. You needed release, and fast. You leaned up slightly from the couch, as you listened carefully, making sure he was nowhere near. Then, you heard it—the sound of the shower running down the hall. Terry was in the guest bathroom, meaning you had just enough time to sneak upstairs and handle business before he finished. Wasting no time, you shot up from the couch and rushed up the stairs, heart pounding. The second you got into your bedroom, you fished through your suitcase, hands shaking with anticipation, until your fingers wrapped around the one thing that could bring you to the edge and push you over in minutes, your lovely rose better known as your lifesaver.

You practically ripped your romper off, the fabric slipping down your thick thighs with ease. And when you stepped out of it, you whimpered. The sight of your own slick, gooey essence stretching between your thighs had you trembling. Your swollen clit pulsed angrily, begging for attention, and in that moment, you wanted nothing more than for Terry to be the one to drop down to his knees and lick up every single drop. You bit your lip feeling a shudder run down your spine. Your legs felt weak as you climbed onto the bed, settling against your pillows. Wasting no time, you powered the rose on, immediately switching it to the third setting—the one that never failed to drag a scream right out of you. The second the soft suction latched onto your needy, swollen wet clit, your whole body jerked.

“Oh fuck! Mmmm shit.” A sharp cry tore from your lips as your thighs clenched. You threw your head back, feeling your juices gush out as it hit the toy, making a sound that had you so turned on. The sensation was so intense, so overwhelming, that you felt yourself spiraling already as you slowly rubbed the toy up and down your clit, teasing it as its suction continued to pull and tug on it, making your cream slowly gather inside your hole, ready to drip out.

“Fuuuuck, y-yess.” Your hips bucked as you rocked into the toy, eyes squeezing shut as the pleasure hit you like a fucking freight train. You knew you were about to have the hardest nut of your life.

“My clit so fucking fat shit.” You moaned filthy, feeling hot and wet as your pussy began to have a mind of its own. You were in love with how sensitive your clit felt. The dream was dripping like lava as you felt the toy’s hard suction increasing as your clit fattened with need.

Your legs trembled as you held them back, the rose sucking and pulsing against your swollen clit, dragging out a sticky, wet ache that had been building for days. The first drag of suction made you shudder, a deep moan slipping from your lips as your juices dripped down your pussy slowly and onto the sheets. You rubbed the toy up and down while holding it down to add more pressure, teasing your clit, the pulsing vibration making your body jolt every time it latched onto your clit just right. The obscene squelch and suction noises filled the room, bouncing off the walls, mixing with your ragged breaths and soft whimpers. You swore you could feel the orgasm creeping up already, your belly tightening, thighs clenching, toes curling. You didn’t even care how loud you were; Terry was all the way in the guest bathroom, the sound of the shower running covering your sinful little secret. At least, that’s what you thought. What you didn’t know was that Terry wasn’t even in the damn shower yet. He had stepped out of the bathroom to grab some fresh clothes from the dryer, towel slung over his shoulder, basketball shorts hanging low on his waist, when he passed by your door. And that’s when he heard it. The wet, messy sounds. The desperate little moans.He stopped mid-step, his head tilting, listening closer. The low buzz of a toy, the way your breath hitched between every slick, suctioning pull of it. His lips parted slightly, and his hand flexed at his side, his whole body stiffening as his breathing slowed down, listening to you moan and cry. His tongue ran across his teeth as he bit down, his dick already hardening at the thought of what was happening just beyond that door. And Lord help him… he wanted to see.

“Mmmm suck that pussy! Yesss.” You cried out, eyes closed, picturing Terry’s mouth on you instead of the rose. You pressed the rose down harder, throwing your head back against the pillows as soft spurts of pussy juice squirted from you, making a nice puddle beneath your ass. Terry stood frozen outside your door, jaw tight, tongue pressed against his teeth as he listened to the wet, sloppy sounds coming from your room. His breathing deepened, chest rising and falling as his mind wandered and painted a crystal clear image of you and how you looked right about now pleasuring yourself.

“Damn,” He muttered under his breath, low and raspy. “I know that pussy look pretty when it cum.”

His head dropped forward slightly, hand flexing at his side as his mind painted the filthiest picture—your thick thighs trembling, that pretty little pussy clenching and dripping, all swollen and needy, just waiting for a real tongue to replace that damn toy. And then he heard it. His name slipping past your lips, soft and breathless, like a damn prayer as you were orgasming and creaming all over yourself , and letting out what you had been building up for the last few days.

“T-Terry— FUCK TERRY!” You cried loudly, cumming hard and intensely, as you rode the toy slowly. Immediately going sensitive you dropped the toy to the side and rubbed your aching clit rapidly with your middle finger, allowing yourself to squirt out as a second nut hit you, making your walls squirt harder. Terry’s eyes went dark, a deep hunger settling in his gut, spreading through his veins like wildfire. His hands balled into fists at his sides, his breathing ragged as the image of you writhing on that bed, your fingers tangled in the sheets, legs wide open for him, sent a pulse of raw, aching need straight to his dick. He swallowed hard, fists clenching tighter as he forced himself to step back, to walk away and restrain himself before he did something reckless. Because if he stepped into that room? There wouldn’t be any turning back. He was gonna beat the fuck out of that pussy until you saw stars.

You jerked from the aftershock of your mind blowing orgasm as you laid there, trying to catch your breath. Your heart pounded loudly in your chest as your ears were practically ringing. You’ve had your fair share of amazing orgasms when it came down to self care but this one? This one was undoubtedly the hardest, most nastiest one you had ever given yourself. You knew what your good girl could do. She was a messy juice monster that could make a mess if touched correctly and only you knew how to touch her to make it this intense. But it wasn’t just your technique this time , or your rose toy. It was that tall rich caramel nigga with the gorgeous unique eyes that had you spent and dripping cum.

“S-Shit…” You softly whimpered, feeling tired as your eyes grew heavy. As much as you wanted to get up and clean yourself off as well as change the covers. The aftershock of your orgasm sent you into a soft deep, very much needed slumber. You weren’t fond of sleeping in sweet sticky essence but you were too spent and too weak to fight against it. Not even a minute later you were knocked out, snoring softly with your legs still wide open, with not one care in the world.

A little after 4pm you finally arose from your slumber. Your body felt brand new after an hour-long nap and a much-needed shower. The kind of shower where you let the hot water run over your skin, steam fogging up the mirror while you took your time rubbing yourself down with your favorite body scrub. You needed that. Deserved that. Now, feeling refreshed, you threw on something light—a tiny tube-top dress that barely skimmed the tops of your thighs, the soft cotton clinging to your curves. You slid your feet into your fluffy fur slides, secured your hair up in a claw clip, and let a few soft curls frame your face. Cute, comfortable, and cool. Perfect for this ridiculous heat. With your Bluetooth speaker connected, you scrolled through your playlist, finally settling on SWV’s “Anything” Remix. As soon as the beat dropped, the energy in the kitchen shifted. The bass vibrated through the air, wrapping around you like an old friend. You started off slow, swaying your hips as you pulled out ingredients, letting the rhythm seep into your bones. The knife moved effortlessly through the ripe tomatoes, the sizzle of onions hitting the pan mixing with the music.

“Boy, my body’s just for you…” You sang as your shoulders bounced to the beat, and before you knew it, you were dancing. Really dancing. Hands up, hips rolling, that natural rhythm taking over as you stirred the pot on the stove. The little dress lifted with every step, teasing the curve of your ass as you lost yourself in the moment. What you didn’t know was that Terry had walked in a while ago, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, just… watching. Amused. Intrigued. You moved so effortlessly, like music was embedded in your bones. He licked his lips, eyes glued to the way your thighs jiggled with every step. That ass? A masterpiece. He could’ve watched you all damn day, but after a few more moments, he finally made his presence known.

“Ahem.” The deep rumble of his throat clearing cut through the air like a record scratch. You jumped, nearly dropping the spoon in your hand. Turning around, wide-eyed and caught, you saw him standing there, that signature smirk tugging at his lips.

“Jesus, you scared the hell outta me,” You huffed, pressing a hand to your chest, trying to slow your pounding heart.Terry just chuckled, eyes dark with something unreadable as he nodded toward you.

“Nah, baby girl, don’t stop on my account. Looked like you was really feelin’ it.” He teased.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” You rolled your eyes, waving him off as you turned back to the stove. But your heart was still racing. And not just from the scare. Terry leaned against the counter, reaching for a bottle of water from the fridge, twisting the cap off with ease. As he took a slow, deep gulp, you caught the way his Adam’s apple bobbed. The way his lips parted just slightly, tongue flicking out to catch a stray drop. You swallowed hard, looking away before your mind took you places it had no business going again for the second time today. Terry smirked behind the bottle. Oh yeah, he had peeped all of that. And after overhearing what you were really up to in your room earlier, he was having a hard time pretending like he didn’t know exactly what had you so damn flustered. But he kept that dirty little secret to himself. For now.

The silence stretched for a bit, except for the music playing in the background. You exhaled, stirring the pot before muttering, “It’s too damn quiet out here.”

Terry hummed. “You ain’t used to it yet?”

“Not even close. I miss New York. All the noise, the people, the energy… I miss just walking outside and hearing taxi’s honking or ambulance's blaring. This country cricket life is not for me.” You scoffed. Truth of the matter was that you couldn’t stand the quiet due to being alone in your thoughts. The quieter things were, the more you relived trauma and pain you tried to forget about in this very house and town. Living in the city helped you stay occupied and distracted so you wouldn’t have to feel or think. Your therapist had told you long ago that , that was an unhealthy way to cope but it was either bury the shit or be on meds for the rest of your life because you couldn’t function.

Terry leaned against the counter, watching you. “If you were back home right now, what would you be doing?”

You thought for a second, then shrugged. “Hittin’ the town with my girls or curled up with a glass of wine, binge-watching something on Netflix or Hulu.”

“Sounds like a good night.” Terry nodded, smiling slightly.

“It is,” You said, then paused, your mind drifting to something else. A memory.

“You know… it wasn’t always bad down here. My daddy used to take me to this old skating rink when I was little. Sweet Rollers. Used to be the spot for all the neighborhood kids. I had the time of my life there, zoomin’ around, thinking I was so grown.” You smiled softly, stirring the pot absentmindedly. Terry’s lips tugged into a smirk, eyes flicking to your face as you got lost in the memory. He loved that little spark in your eye when you talked about something that made you happy.

“Sweet Rollers still around,” He said casually.

Your head snapped up. “Wait, what?”

“Yeah,” Terry chuckled. “Still open. Still got skate nights, too. If you hurry up and get dressed, we can make the evening session.”

“Yeah, right. My big ass ain’t skated in years. I’m not about to be out there bustin’ my ass in front of a bunch of teenagers. No thank you.” You snorted.

Terry leaned in, raising an eyebrow. “All you done did since you got here is work and complain. How ‘bout one night of just… fun?”

You gave him a side-eye. “I have fun.”

Terry smirked. “Name one fun thing you done since you stepped foot in this house.”

Silence

“…Exactly.”

You exhaled, narrowing your eyes at him. “You really tryna get me out the house that bad?”

“I’m tryna get you to loosen up,” Terry said, voice low and smooth. “Ain’t no harm in that, is it?”

You bit your lip, debating. And Lord help you… but the way he was looking at you? It was making it real hard to say no.

You hesitated for a second, chewing on your lip as you looked between Terry and the food sizzling on the stove. “We gotta eat first.”

“We can eat this delicious concoction when we get back. I’ll wrap it up so it stays warm. You go get dressed.” Terry shook his head with a smirk, stepping past you and reaching for the knob, twisting the fire off. You huffed, knowing he wasn’t about to let you argue. A night out didn’t sound half bad, and Lord knew you needed to unwind.

“Fine, fine…” You muttered, turning on your heel and rushing upstairs. Now, if you were going out, you were going to look good doing it. You picked out a pair of booty-hugging daisy duke shorts that gripped your thighs in all the right places, frayed at the edges just enough to tease. Then, you slipped into a cherry-red halter top bodysuit with a plunging neckline, leaving your entire back out, your spine tattoo on full display. You accessorized with your gold nameplate necklace, matching gold hoops, and stacked charm bracelets, letting the jewelry glint against your brown skin. Your hair was next—water and gel slicked it up into a high ponytail, soft curls cascading messily while your baby hairs framed your forehead just right. Shoes? Cute sandals. But you tossed a pair of socks into your purse for the rink. Makeup? Unnecessary. Your skin was already glowing. You fluffed your lash extensions, reapplied your buttery lip gloss, then reached for your Tom Ford Vanilla Sex—a Christmas gift from your mother. The rich, warm scent filled the air as you sprayed a generous amount over your collarbone, wrists, and thighs. Just as you grabbed your purse, you heard Terry’s deep voice call from downstairs.

“You ready yet?” His voice sounded smooth as velvet.

You smirked at your reflection before stepping out of your room and heading toward the stairs. The moment you hit the top step, his head turned. You saw the shift in his expression immediately. His eyes dragged down your short frame—lingering on the way your shorts sat snug on your thighs, then dropping lower to admire how your ass filled them out from the front. His tongue swiped over his lips before his gaze trailed up your exposed back, his jaw flexing slightly. By the time he reached your face, his pupils were just a little darker.

“Damn, ma…” His voice was deep, and heavier. “You tryna have every nigga in there break they neck?” He raised his eyebrow.

You rolled your eyes, descending the stairs. “Boy, shut up.”

Terry let out a low chuckle, stepping closer. “Nah, for real. You dangerous in that.” His head tilted, his voice dropping. “Lookin’ like you tryna get chose tonight.”

“Please. I just like to look good.” You scoffed, even though your pulse betrayed you.

He grabbed his keys, still watching you like he was committing every detail to memory. “Well, you succeeded.” Then, he smirked, nodding toward the door. “C’mon, before I change my mind and keep you here all night.”

Your breath caught for a split second, but you played it off, brushing past him as you stepped outside.You felt his presence heavy behind you, his eyes still lingering. Yeah… this night might be trouble. But you were already in too deep to back out now. Jesus be a complete fence around you and your hormones tonight. The ride to the skating rink was smooth, the warm evening breeze slipping through the cracked windows of Terry’s truck. The low hum of the engine filled the silence at first, but the tension in the air was anything but quiet. You shifted in your seat, smoothing your hands over your bare thighs, acutely aware of Terry’s presence beside you. He had one hand on the wheel, the other resting lazily on the console, his long fingers occasionally drumming against the leather. He was relaxed, but you could tell by the way his jaw flexed that his mind wasn’t completely at ease.

“You always this quiet?” You finally asked, breaking the silence.

“I talk when I got something to say.” Terry smirked, eyes still on the road.

“Oh, so you one of them?” You scoffed, shaking your head.

“One of what?” He glanced over at you briefly, amusement flickering in his gaze.

“The mysterious, brooding type. The ‘I ain’t gotta say much’ type. That whole ‘quiet storm’ thing.” You waved your hand. “Lemme guess, you think it makes you more intriguing, huh?”

“Nahhh, I just don’t waste words.” Terry chuckled under his breath.

“Mmhmm.” You folded your arms, feigning disappointment. “And here I was thinkin’ we was gonna have deep conversation, maybe share some childhood secrets, bond a little.” You pouted.

That made him chuckle again, this time a little deeper. “What you wanna know?”

You turned your body toward him, lips curling into a smirk. “I dunno… something interesting. Like, what’s your guilty pleasure?”

Terry lifted an eyebrow. “Guilty pleasure?”

“Yeah, like some random shit you love but would never admit out loud.” You stared at him, admiring the way his pretty eyes looked under the settling evening skies.

He rolled his lips together, thinking for a second before saying, “Old ‘90s R&B.”

“Word?” You perked up.

He nodded. “Yeah… I be playin’ the hell outta some Jodeci or Mint Condition when I’m by myself.”

“Not Jodeci.” You gasped dramatically, hand to your chest.

“You asked.” Terry chuckled, shaking his head.

“So what you be doing? Sitting in your truck with the seat back, windows down, singing your heart out?”

“Somethin’ like that.” He smirked, glancing over at you.

You laughed, shaking your head. “That’s wild. I would’ve pegged you for more of a hardcore rap, never-show-emotion type dude.”

“Oh, I still be on that. But sometimes, you gotta let a little Feenin’ or Pretty Brown Eyes play when the mood hit.” He licked his bottom lip, giving you a side glance.

“Yeah… I can see that.” You stared at him for a beat, biting your lip.

Terry’s eyes flickered to your mouth before looking back at the road. “What about you?”

“What about me?” You raised an eyebrow at him.

“What’s your guilty pleasure?” He side glanced you, licking the corner of his mouth.

You grinned, knowing your answer might make him judge you. “Don’t laugh… but I love watching trashy reality TV.”

“Nah.” Terry snorted.

“Yes!” You laughed. “Like, the messier the better. I love the drama, the fighting, the over-the-top acting—”

“That’s wild.” He chuckled.

“Don’t judge me.”

“I’m judgin’.”

You rolled your eyes. “Whatever.”

Terry smirked, shaking his head before muttering, “Yeah… I can see that.”

The way he threw your words back at you made you laugh, shaking your head as you settled into a more comfortable silence. The ride continued, the city lights flashing past the windows, and for a moment, you found yourself just enjoying the easy rhythm between you two. No pressure, no awkwardness. Just… something smooth. Something that felt good. Something that made you wonder what the hell you were getting yourself into. As soon as Terry pulled into the parking lot of Sweet Rollers, the deep bass of old-school R&B / Hip Hop tracks vibrated through the truck, mixing with the sounds of laughter and chatter from the rowdy crowd gathered outside. Groups of people lingered near their cars, some sipping on drinks, others showing off their best dance moves before heading inside. It was packed, just like you remembered, and an excited thrill rushed through you at the sight of your old stomping grounds.

“Oooh, this is what I’m talking about!” You excitedly grinned, practically bouncing in your seat.

Terry, however, wasn’t nearly as enthusiastic. His sharp ocean-like gaze swept over the crowd, his jaw tightening slightly. “Too many fucking people.”

“It’s a skating rink, Terry. It’s supposed to be packed.” You rolled your eyes.

“I know.” He exhaled through his nose, gripping the wheel. Unbeknownst to you, Terry wasn’t fond of overly packed places. He hated crowds in general but where he came from he knew that too many niggas in one spot and a bunch of alcohol was a recipe for some shit to pop off. Being an ex Marine Terry was always on guard and ready to handle business if need be and even tonight wasn’t no exception to his unspoken rule.

“What, you scared?” You smirked.

He cut his eyes at you. “Ain’t never been scared a day in my life.”

“Then come on, tough guy.” You unbuckled your seatbelt, already reaching for the door handle. “Let’s have some fun.”

Terry sighed, rubbing a hand down his face before finally nodding. “Yeah, aight.”

As soon as you both stepped out, you could feel the eyes on you—or more specifically, on him. Women stopped mid-conversation, their eyes raking over Terry like he was the best thing they’d seen all night. And honestly? You didn’t blame them. Terry was the type of man that commanded attention without even trying. Standing tall in his fitted black tee, grey sweats hanging low on his hips, and fresh sneakers, he had that effortless, I know I look good but I ain’t gotta say it kind of presence. The streetlights bounced off his sexy caramel skin, illuminating his small curls on top of his head, and highlighting the sharp cut of his jaw and the cool, detached expression that made him even more irresistible.

One woman in particular—a tall, red bone beauty with a micro mini dress that left nothing to the imagination—bit her lip as she eyed him. “Damn,” she muttered to her friend. “That man is fine.”

Before you could process the way irritation flared in your chest, Terry’s large, warm hand landed on the small of your back, guiding you toward the entrance. The simple touch sent heat rushing up your spine, but more than that, it was a silent message. Ain’t no need for you to feel any type of way, I’m with you. And if the daggers those women were shooting your way were any indication? They got the message loud and clear. Inside, the rink was even livelier. The neon lights flashed against the glossy floor, reflecting off the disco ball spinning in the center. The scent of buttered popcorn, funnel cakes, and sweet candy lingered in the air, mixing with the faint must of sweat and skate wheels burning against the slick surface.

“Oh my God,” You breathed, looking around with wide eyes. “It’s exactly how I remember.”

Terry glanced down at you, the corner of his mouth twitching. “That right?”

“Yep. This place was my childhood.”You nodded, grinning. He hummed, tucking that piece of information away before leading you toward the rental counter. The girl behind the counter, a petite thing with slicked baby hairs and acrylics long enough to type paragraphs with, barely spared you a glance. Her gaze immediately locked onto Terry, and her whole energy shifted.

“Hey, handsome,” She purred, leaning forward on the counter just enough to push her cleavage together. “What size you need?”

“Thirteen.” Terry, completely unfazed, pulled his wallet out.

“Mm, big feet…” She smiled, twirling a curl around her finger. Your eyebrow shot up at the boldness of this air head before you. You blinked a few times at her. Did she just—?

Terry didn’t react, just glanced at you. “What size, ma?”

“Seven,” You muttered, crossing your arms.

The girl finally looked at you, then reached under the counter, sliding both pairs of skates toward Terry with an extra sweet smile. “That’ll be twenty-seven dollars.

Before you could pull out your own money, Terry was already handing over a crisp bill.

“You ain’t have to do that,” You frowned.

“I was raised to be a southern gentleman. You ain’t payin’ for nothing in my presence.” Terry tucked his wallet away, grabbing the skates.

You huffed. “Terry—”

“I know you can handle your own, mama,” he said smoothly, his voice dropping just enough to make your stomach flutter. “But let me handle it tonight.”

And just like that, your knees buckled a little. Terry smirked as if he knew exactly what he was doing, then handed you your skates.

“Come on,” he said, nodding toward the benches. “Let’s get you laced up.”

You swallowed, fighting the warmth creeping up your cheeks as you followed behind him. Lord have mercy… What did you just get yourself into? You both made your way over to one of the long benches lined against the wall, the music thumping as people whizzed by on their skates, laughter and conversation blending into the lively atmosphere. You plopped down with a sigh, resting your skates beside you, but before you could even think about lacing them up, Terry was already kneeling in front of you, rolling his shoulders back like this was just another day. Your breath hitched. The sight of him on his knees—those thick, muscled arms flexing as he took your ankle into his hands—did something to you. The heat that spread across your skin was immediate, undeniable. His fingers, large and slightly calloused, wrapped around your calf with ease, his touch firm but careful as he guided your foot into the skate. Your body and not to mention your pussy betrayed you instantly. A sharp tingle danced up your spine, settling deep in your clit as you watched him work. His brows furrowed slightly, dark lashes casting shadows over his cheekbones as he concentrated, making sure the skate fit snugly before pulling at the laces. The way his hands moved—strong, sure, completely in control—had no business being so damn… sexy.

“You good?” His deep voice broke through your haze, snapping you back to reality.

“Y-Yeah. I’m good.” You cleared your throat, shifting slightly on the bench. He glanced up then, his light ocean gray eyes locking onto yours, and damn. That slow, lazy smirk of his was back like he knew exactly what was running through your mind.

“Yeah?” He drawled, tugging the laces tighter before looping them into a knot. “You sure, mama?”

“I’m sure, Terry.” You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way your thighs pressed together involuntarily. He hummed, low and deep, and that sound alone nearly had you sliding off the damn bench. Instead of giving you a break, he moved on to your other foot, gripping your ankle and repeating the same slow, methodical process. By the time he finished, your body was on fire, your skin practically scorched under the weight of his hands.

“There,” he muttered, patting your knee as he rose to his full height. “You straight.”

But you? You were far from straight. Because when you looked up at him—his full lips twitching in amusement, his towering frame standing over you, his scent of clean soap and warm musk surrounding you and you knew one thing for sure. This night was about to be dangerous. The bass from the speakers vibrated through the wooden floors as the DJ spun a classic 90s R&B jam, filling the rink with a sultry, feel-good vibe. The actual song that happened to be playing was Return Of The Mack. The neon lights flickered against the smooth surface, casting a glow over the skaters gliding effortlessly across the floor. Laughter, cheers, and the occasional sound of wheels scraping against the wood echoed around them as people skated in pairs, some moving in sync, others wobbling through the crowd. You took a deep breath, adjusting your balance as you stepped onto the rink, gripping the railing tightly. It had been years since you’d done this, and your legs felt unsure beneath you.

“Yo, you comin’ or you just gon’ hold up the wall all night?” Terry called out, already rolling ahead like he owned the place, flashing that cocky smirk that made your heart skip a beat.

You sucked your teeth, a playful roll of your eyes as you replied, “I gotta get my footing first. I ain’t tryna bust my ass in front of all these people.”

“Ain’t nobody worried ‘bout you fallin’, mama. You got me.” He laughed, skating backward like it was nothing. With a deep breath, you pushed off, wobbling a little as your skates started to glide. Just like you feared, your legs betrayed you, and before you knew it, you were tilting forward, ready to take a nosedive. A quick gasp escaped your lips, but Terry was there, like a superhero swooping in. Strong arms wrapped around your waist possessively, pulling you up against him with a grip that felt both solid and warm. When you looked up, his face was so close, that smirk teasing you like he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Damn, ma,” He murmured, his voice low and smooth like silk, sending a shiver through you. “You just wanted me to hold you, huh?”

“Shut up.” You laughed, trying to shake off the heat creeping up your cheeks.

“Relax baby girl, you thinkin’ too much. Just let your feet glide and don’t fight it. Just move with me.” He chuckled, steadying you with those strong hands before easing you back to your feet. And just like that, you started to find your groove. With Terry guiding you, his hands firm yet gentle, the wobble in your stance faded. He kept one hand on your hip, ensuring you didn’t lose your balance, while the other hand slipped into yours, fingers intertwining like they were meant to be. Before long, you were rolling across the rink, laughter spilling out of you every time he threw in a little spin or playfully tugged you in a new direction.

“I see you getting the hang of it now,” He teased, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

“Mmhmm,”You shot back, grinning wide. “I told you I just needed a minute.”

“Oh, so you an expert now?” He cut an eye at you, smirking and tugging you again, making you squeal.

“I ain’t say all that,”You laughed, shaking your head, your heart racing with the thrill of the moment. With the beat rolling through you, you started to work it, feeling yourself get lost in the rhythm. Skating in sync with Terry, you spun and swayed, your laughter mingling with the music as he cheered you on, his voice rising above the sound.

“Ayeeee, aight I see you little mama.” He joked. You winked, swaying your hips in-sync as you glided effortlessly, getting lost in the music. The music suddenly shifted, a deep, sensual groove flowing through the speakers, the kind of track that made everything feel electric, as if the whole world was slowing down just for you two. You could feel Terry’s grip on you tighten, the way his energy shifted, and before you could even think about pulling away, he was pulling you closer.

“C’mon,” He murmured, breath warm against your ear. “Let’s see if you really got it.”

Your stomach flipped as he pulled you against him, your back pressing against his solid chest. His arms encircled your waist, guiding you as he began to sway, rolling his hips in time with yours, making the whole world fade away. You let out a slow breath, your body molding into his without even trying. The feel of him behind you—the steady strength of his hold, the way his fingers pressed into your bodacious curves, had your pulse racing like you were on a rollercoaster. Terry’s large stature moved like he was born to skate, fluid and confident, leading you in a rhythm that felt natural. As the music danced around you two, you surrendered to the beat, letting it pull you deeper into the moment.

“I ain’t just good at housework, baby girl,” He teased, his voice low and playful, making your heart flutter. “I got skills.”

You bit your lip, trying to keep the smile off your face, but it was too late. “Oh yeah?” you shot back, glancing over your shoulder, your eyes sparkling with challenge.

“Yeah. You see it,” He grinned, and damn, you did see it. You felt like you were floating, gliding through the crowd, every move you made infused with that infectious energy, the kind that made you feel alive. The way Terry watched you, like you were the center of the universe, only pushed you to show off even more. You bent over slowly, dipping your hips lower as he spun you both around, slow skating backwards. You had seen couples do this a thousand times on Tik Tok and part of you always wanted to do a slow set and here you were with Terry, slow grinding it to Slow Bass Line by Lloyd. The two of you must have skated for at least a good thirty minutes before you got a little winded. After a while of skating, you were starting to feel the burn in your thighs, and your throat was dry from all the laughing and talking. You leaned back slightly against Terry’s chest as you slowed to a stop.

“I’ma go grab a slushie from the concession stand,” You told him, brushing a stray curl from your face.

“Aight, I’ll be right here.” Terry nodded, his eyes still watching the skaters zipping past. With that, you carefully rolled off the rink, maneuvering your way through the crowd. The concession stand was packed, as expected, with groups of teens, couples, and families all waiting for their orders. You took your place in line, debating between cherry or blue raspberry when—

“Well, damn.” The deep, familiar drawl sent a chill straight down your spine, making you freeze in place. That voice—it had been years, but you’d know it anywhere. Slowly, you turned around, your eyes widening as they landed on a face from your past.

“Jalen?” Your mouth slightly dropped. A slow, knowing smirk spread across his lips. He looked good, you couldn’t even lie. Still fine, still tall with that same cocky glint in his eye. His gold chain glistened against his brown skin, and his white tee stretched across his chest in a way that told you he had been in the gym.

“Man, I knew that was you,”He said, eyeing you up and down like he was taking in every single change time had made to you. “Look at you, girl. All grown up and still fine as hell.”

You forced a polite smile, feeling a strange mix of nostalgia and unease settle in your chest. “Yeah, it’s been a minute,” you said, keeping your tone light. “What you been up to?”

Before Jalen could answer, another voice cut in—one that made your stomach drop.

“Oh, hell nah. I’d recognize them big ass hammocks anywhere. Heyyy big mama!” The obnoxious voice teased. Your forced smile fell instantly. Not this bitch. You turned your head slightly and, sure enough, there she was. Shawna. Loud, ignorant, hating-ass Shawna. She looked exactly the same, except for the extra layers of cheap lace-front glue caking up along her hairline. Same exaggerated lashes, same gaudy press-on nails, and the same damn attitude she always had when it came to you. You took a slow breath, already knowing she was about to try you.

“Damn, girl, what brings you back down here? Ain’t seen you since you hauled your lil’ thick ass back up north.” She put a hand on her hip, cocking her head with a smirk.

“Yeah, life happens. Not that it’s any of your business.”You folded your arms, giving her a blank stare.

“Still thick as hell, I see. Some things never change.” She smirked deviously, shifting her weight to one hip, a slick smile on her glossy lips. Your jaw clenches, but you refuse to let her see you sweat. You’ve dealt with Shawna since childhood. She’s been your bully, your hater, your competition—always loud, always fast, and always looking for a way to put you down. And back then? She won. Over and over. From the cruel jokes about your weight to the way she snatched Jalen right from under you like it was her birthright. And now, here she is. Still the same, still petty, still trying to play in your face.

“I see some things never change either,” you fire back smoothly. “You still worried about me more than you worried about yourself.”

Shawna cocks an eyebrow, sucking her teeth. “Girl, please. I just call it how I see it. But damn, you done got cute or whatever.” She tilts her head dramatically. “Somebody put you on or you finally figured it out?”

“Excuse me—“ You try to correct her, but her loud ass mouth cuts in, cracking a joke at your demise.

“Boy, you used to love her fat chunky ass back in the day.” Shawna let out an obnoxious laugh, nudging Jalen. You clenched your jaw even tighter, about to deliver a sharp and downright disrespectful clapback that may or may not resulted in hands being thrown, when suddenly—A strong, warm arm draped around your waist, pulling you firmly against a familiar solid chest from the back. Terry, once again swooping it like a knight in shining armor. His presence alone was enough to shut down whatever slick shit was about to leave Shawna’s mouth.

“You good?” He murmured low enough for only you to hear, his voice steady, but there was something else underneath it—possessiveness.Your body instantly relaxed against him, feeling both safe and seen.

“Yeah, I’m good.”You nodded, your eyes flicking up to meet his. Shawna, however, was not. Her entire demeanor shifted the second her eyes landed on Terry. She damn near devoured him with her gaze, acting like her own man wasn’t standing just a few feet away.

“Whew, and who the fuck is this?” She exhaled dramatically, fanning herself with her hand. Jalen finally notices Terry too. His expression shifts, eyes narrowing as he looks between you and Terry.

“This your man or somethin’?” Jalen asks, crossing his arms. Terry doesn’t even blink. Instead, he shifts his stance slightly, his grip on your waist firm but easy, as if silently letting you decide how to handle it. But then, he speaks.

“Who’s asking?” He answered, voice sounding rougher and more authoritative than usual. The way he says it? Deep, smooth, unbothered. Like he already knows the answer doesn't matter. Like Jalen doesn't matter. And something about that makes your knees weak.

Jalen scoffs, shaking his head. “I was just curious. We got history, that’s all.”

Terry nods slowly, eyes still locked on him. “Yeah? That supposed to mean something to me?”

Jalen chuckled, lifting his hands in surrender. “Damn, bro, it ain’t even like that. We was just catching up.”

“That right?” Terry didn’t move. His dark eyes remained locked on Jalen’s, completely unbothered.

“Yeah,” Jalen nodded, though he seemed a little less sure of himself now. “Ain’t no pressure.”

Terry let a slow smirk curl at the corner of his lips. “Good.”

Shawna, still practically drooling, licked her lips. “Mm-mm-mm. I don’t know where you found this fine nigga, but girl… you won with this one.”

“I didn’t know we was in competition.”You shot her a dry look. She huffed a little, but before she could get another word in, Terry leaned down slightly, speaking just low enough for only you to hear.

“You still want that slushie, mama?” He asked, rubbing sooting circles on your lower back. Your lips parted slightly at the way he said mama like it was his name for you.

You swallowed, nodding. “Yeah.”

“Go ‘head and order. I got you.” He nodded his head towards the counter.

After you and Terry basically dismiss Shawna and Jalen. You grab your slushie, feeling a rush of excitement to partake in your childhood delicacy as you step away from the counter. The rink is still buzzing with sweaty energy, and the slow jams are starting to play. Terry follows you to the bench, his eyes scanning the crowd, but you can feel him close by, steadying your nerves. You sit down and take a sip, enjoying the cool, sugary sweetness, but there’s still a lot on your mind. Terry sits beside you, and you can feel the tension between you both, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s like he’s waiting for you to open up, and that’s something you don’t do easily.

“So who were they?” He glances at you, his expression curious. You hesitate for a moment, taking another sip of your slushie before setting it down on the bench. A sigh escapes your lips before you begin to explain.

“Jalen… he was the first guy I ever really loved,” you say, the words almost slipping out before you can stop them. “We were high school sweethearts. Thought we were gonna be together forever, you know? He was… the one who made me believe in all that fairy tale stuff.” You shrugged.

Terry listens intently, not interrupting. You can tell he’s taking it all in, but there’s something about the way he watches you—like he wants to understand.

“Sounds like he had you wrapped around his finger,” He says, his voice almost amused but with a touch of something darker behind it.

“Yeah, he did. But then Shawna came into the picture… She was always there, talking trash about me. My weight, my thighs, my body—she always had something to say. I’d try to ignore it, but… it wasn’t easy. And Jalen? He never defended me. He just let her talk.” You smile weakly, fighting back your emotions. Terry’s jaw tightens a little, but he doesn’t say anything. He just listens as you keep going.

“One day, Jalen broke up with me out of nowhere. No explanation. He just… dumped me. And Shawna? She wasted no time stepping in. It was like she’d been waiting for the moment to steal him away from me. She was the one who made me feel like I wasn’t good enough. And it stung. Still stings.” You sigh, taking another sip from the straw. You can feel the anger bubbling up again, but you try to keep it in check. This was the past, right? You weren’t supposed to let it get to you anymore. But it does.

Terry’s hand moves to rest on your knee, and you glance at him, surprised by the gesture. He gives you a look, his voice soft but intense. “That’s some messed up shit. No one should make you feel that way. Especially not him. And especially not her.”

You nod, your throat tightening a little as you try to swallow the lump forming there. “Yeah, well, that’s how it went down. Shawna made sure to rub it in my face every chance she got.”

Terry leans closer, his hand still resting on your knee. His gaze softens, and for a moment, you can almost forget about Shawna and Jalen, about everything that happened before. You’re here now, and that’s what matters.

“You’re better than them mamas, believe that.” He says firmly, his voice low but full of conviction. “Way better. And they don’t get to take that from you.”

His words sunk in, and you let out a small breath, feeling the weight of the past lift just a little bit. You smile, looking down at your slushie before you heard the music shift, the tempo slowing. The music in the rink slowed, a soft, familiar melody filling the air. The first chords of “Weak” by SWV began to echo, and the slow grind of couples on the rink picked up. The rhythm made you feel light again, the nostalgia pulling at her heartstrings.

“I used to love this song,” You say, nodding to the slow jam. “It reminds me of when my dad used to bring me to this rink when I was a kid. We’d skate all night, just goofing around with the kids from the neighborhood. It was one of the best times of my life.” You got teary for a split second.

“You were a pro back then, huh?” Terry raises an eyebrow.

“Not exactly. But I sure had fun. My dad let me stay out late, skating with my friends. It was like… freedom. You know?” You laugh, shaking your head.

“Sounds like you got some memories here. You still got that spark, though. I can see it in your eyes.” Terry watches you, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. You meet his gaze, feeling your heart race. You hadn’t expected this kind of attention, especially not from him. But here you are, sitting next to a man who seems to see you in a way no one else has.

“Well,” you say, your voice teasing, “I’m not sure I’ve still got the moves. My skating game is a little rusty.”

“We’ll see about that.” Terry grins, a playful glint in his eyes. He carefully stood to his feet, balancing on his skates.

The song swells, and the crowd on the rink starts to slow down, couples swaying together in time with the music. You glance at Terry, then back at the rink, suddenly feeling more confident. Maybe it’s the music, or maybe it’s just being here with him. Either way, tonight, you’re going to let go of all of your inner insecurities and just live in the moment. He stands in front of you , offering you his hand, and you take it without hesitation. The night’s just beginning, and for the first time in a long time, you feel like you might just have the strength to leave all the old hurt behind.

“You ready to show them what you got?” Terry’s eyes linger on you, his large fingers interlocking with yours.

“Let’s see if I can still keep up.” You smile, pushing off the bench.And as he pulls you onto the rink, guiding you effortlessly into the slow rhythm of the music, you realize something… This night ain’t about the past or your grudge your held against this place. It’s about right now. And right now, Terry Richmond got all your attention.

The clock struck a little after 9pm and you and Terry both decided to call it a night and turn in your skates. You followed Terry’s lead as the two of you stepped out of the skating rink, the cool night air kissing your skin after the heat of the packed building. The bass from inside still rumbled in the background as more folks poured in for the after-hours session. You felt a lingering excitement from the night, your legs still tingling from the rush of skating and swaying with Terry on the floor. He walked beside you, his pace slow and relaxed, but you could tell by the way his eyes swept the parking lot that his mind was elsewhere. Terry wasn’t the type to get too comfortable in one spot for too long—especially not when crowds gathered, alcohol flowed, and tempers could spark over the smallest shit.

“You good?” You asked, glancing up at him.

“Yeah, I’m straight. But you look like you still got some energy left.” He pulled his car keys from his pocket, twirling them between his fingers before shooting you a smirk.

“I ain’t gon’ lie, I did miss this. I had fun tonight.” You smiled, stretching your arms.

He nodded, then slowed his steps, tilting his head at you. “You tryna call it a night, or you got one more adventure in you?”

“Depends. What you got in mind?” You raised a brow.

His smirk deepened, his eyes flashing with mischief, “Let me stop by the liquor store real quick. Grab us something to sip on with our food waiting back at the house.”

“O-Okay.” You nodded,

Your stomach tensed slightly. Drinking around Terry made you nervous, but not because you didn’t trust him—it was because you didn’t trust yourself. There was something about him, the way he carried himself, that made you feel vulnerable in a way you weren’t used to. The ride to the liquor store was quick. The neon lights of the small shop glowed against the dark sky, buzzing faintly. Before stepping out, Terry handed you a couple of bills.

“Go next door, grab two Big Gulp cups, and fill ‘em with some slushies,” He instructed. “We mixin’ when I get back.”

“Yes, sir.” You took the money and rolled your eyes playfully. He chuckled, stepping out, and you walked into the 7-Eleven, heading straight for the slushie machine. The bright colors spun in the clear tanks, and you carefully mixed cherry with blue raspberry for one, pineapple with mango for the other. As you reached for the lids and straws, a voice cut through the air—deep, raspy, too damn familiar, making your entire body run cold and lock up.

“Sunshine?” The familiar voice spoke. Your breath caught in your throat, fingers stiffening around the cup. The air in the store suddenly felt too thick, your vision narrowing as an old, buried fear slithered up your spine. You knew that voice anywhere. Slowly, hesitantly, you turned, and there he was, Rodney. Time hadn’t been kind to him. His skin, once rich and buttery smooth, looked sunken and dry, dark circles carved beneath his hazel eyes. His frame was smaller, his once-athletic build now gaunt. He used to be fine—every girl wanted him, the older ones keeping a watchful eye, the younger ones waiting for their turn to catch his attention. He had that ’90s R&B pretty-boy look, the type of dude who stayed fresh, always smelling like cologne and bad decisions. Now, he looked like he had seen the bottom of every bottle, taken every wrong turn, and lost every battle along the way. But none of that mattered because all you could see was him. The boy who took something from you. The boy who played on your innocence, your trust. The one who made you run from this city and never look back. Your stomach twisted violently.

“It is you,” Rodney breathed, a weak smile tugging at his chapped lips. “Damn… how you been, baby girl?”

You nearly dropped the slushie as your heartbeat pounded in your ears, drowning out the hum of the store. Your hands shook as you took a step back, the nausea rising fast. You couldn’t be here. You couldn’t do this. Rodney stepped forward slightly, his hand lifting, as if he wanted to touch you, but your body reacted before your mind did. You jerked back so fast your shoulder hit the slushie machine, your breath coming out in short, sharp bursts. Rodney quickly dropped his hand, his expression flickering with something unreadable.

“S-Sunshine, I—” He attempted to say, with tears forming in his eyes. You didn’t wait to hear whatever lie he was about to tell. Grabbing the slushies, you tossed the money onto the counter and bolted. The second you hit the night air, the nausea took full control. Your stomach lurched violently, and you barely made it to the side of Terry’s truck before you doubled over, vomiting onto the pavement. Terry was there in an instant.

“Shit—” His voice was sharp with concern, one hand hovering over your back, not touching but close enough to let you know he was right there. “Breathe, ma. Breathe through it.”

You wiped your mouth, squeezing your eyes shut. “I’m fine,” you choked out. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

However, Terry didn’t buy it. He knew your were lying through your teeth and if it was one thing he hated, it was liars.

His jaw was clenched, his dark eyes scanning your face, reading every emotion you were trying to bury. “Nah,” He murmured. “That wasn’t just some bad food. What happened?”

“Terry, it’s—” You shook your head, swallowing the lump in your throat.

“Who?” His voice was low, dangerous. “Somebody in there? Did a nigga do some shit to you in there?” He pressed harder. You exhaled shakily, gripping the truck door for support. His eyes darkened further.

“Tell me who, Y/N” He said, voice even, but you could hear the tension beneath it. You closed your eyes, willing yourself to push it down, to shove the past back into the box where it belonged. But your body wasn’t listening. Because for the first time in years, you weren’t the strong, guarded woman you had built yourself to be. For the first time in years, you were that scared 14-year-old girl again.

“C-Can we please just go home? Please?.” Your voice rasped out, clearing your throat again before spitting in remaining bile out of your mouth. Terry didn’t say anything, he just nodded, eyes on you like a hawk with a tight jaw as he opened the passenger side door for you to get in. As you’re getting in, you felt small under his gaze, almost as if he were scolding you for not being upfront about why you were fine one minute and next thing he knows you’re basically vomiting all over the pavement.

The drive home was drenched in silence. The only sound in the truck was the low hum of the radio, some old R&B record playing softly in the background. You stared out the window, watching the city lights blur past, your mind far away from the present. You couldn’t believe after all this time you had seen Rodney. His face, his voice, the weight of his presence had pulled you right back to the past, back to that helplessness, back to that night. You gripped your thighs tightly, your nails digging into your skin as you forced yourself to focus on your breathing. Terry didn’t say a word the whole ride, but you felt his eyes flicker toward you every so often, his grip on the wheel tightening. He wasn’t the type to press for answers—not yet, anyway. He knew whatever was haunting you wasn’t something you could just spill out in the middle of a drive. So he let the silence ride. By the time you pulled up to the house, your stomach was still twisted in knots, but the second you stepped inside, you moved on autopilot going back to that all too familiar numb place. You went straight for the food. Earlier that day, before y’all left, you had cooked—a nice quick meal, something good to come back to. You turned on the stove, reheating the dishes quietly, barely paying attention to anything else. Terry, however, was watching you. His eyes followed every move you made, how your hands trembled slightly as you stirred the food, how your shoulders tensed, how you were too quiet. He didn’t like that shit. Without a word, he grabbed the bottle of Hennessy White he had picked up from the liquor store and poured a generous amount into both Big Gulp cups, mixing it with the slushies you had made earlier. When the food was ready, you placed the plates down on the table and turned to walk away, but before you could, his hand wrapped gently around your wrist.

“Sit down.” His deep voice finally spoke, making you tense. It wasn’t a demand. It wasn’t rough. Just firm enough to make you pause. You swallowed, eyes locked onto the floor. Your body felt stiff, your chest tight, but you sat down next to him, grabbing your fork. Terry didn’t let go of your wrist immediately. His thumb brushed against your pulse, slow, measured.

“Tell me what happened,” He murmured. You inhaled sharply. You had fought tears all night, forced yourself to push it down, to not go back there. But with Terry sitting this close, his voice low, steady, and patient, the walls you had built started to crack. You took a slow bite of your food, chewing without tasting, your throat dry despite how much saliva gathered in your mouth. Reaching for your cup, you took a sip of the spiked slushie, the cold hitting your tongue first, then the warmth of the Hennessy settling in your chest. You swallowed, staring at the table.

Then, softly, you said, “It’s more than one reason I stopped coming down here during the summers as a kid.”

Terry didn’t move. He just listened. Your grip tightened around the cup as the words started spilling out, slow at first, then faster, like a wound being ripped open. You began to tell him about Rodney. About how, when you were just 14, he had been someone you looked up to, someone who made you feel seen in ways no one else did. You told him how he gained your trust, how he made you feel special, like you mattered—only to betray you in the worst way possible. How one summer night, when no one was around, he took something from you. How you froze. How you felt your body leave you, how the ceiling blurred, how you counted the cracks just to keep yourself from breaking. How, after it was over, you never told a soul. How you buried it, packed it away like luggage you’d never unpack. How you left town and never looked back. And how seeing him tonight, in that damn store, had ripped open everything you spent years trying to forget. By the time you finished, your hands were trembling around the cup. Your food sat untouched. Your throat burned. The silence that followed was heavy with unspoken emotions, but Terry still hadn’t moved. But when you finally looked at him, his jaw was tight, his eyes dark—not just with anger, but something deeper, something dangerous. You had seen Terry irritated before. You had seen him frustrated. But this? This was different. This was fury. This was war. His grip on the cup was so tight, you thought he might break it. But when he finally spoke, his voice was eerily calm.

“Say the word.” He said slowly.

“What?” You blinked, your breath catching.

His eyes met yours, steady, unwavering. “Say the word,” he repeated. “And I’ll handle it.”

The air in the room instantly shifted. Terry’s words weren’t just words—they were a promise. A quiet, dangerous assurance that if you gave him the green light, Rodney wouldn’t be breathing the same air for much longer. You swallowed, your throat dry, your chest tightening at the sheer weight of his presence.

“Terry…” You started, but your voice wavered. You weren’t sure what you wanted to say. He was still watching you, eyes dark, jaw tight. His fingers flexed on the table like he was holding himself back.

“Say the word,” He repeated slowly, measured. His voice was like gravel, rough with barely contained rage. “You ain’t gotta carry this no more. I’ll take care of it.”

Your stomach twisted. This was the part of Terry that made people afraid—the quiet storm before the destruction, the way he didn’t raise his voice, didn’t make threats. He just acted. But you didn’t want him to act. Not like that, and definitely not for you. Your Nana would be so ashamed if she had worked hard to keep him out of trouble and you got him into more shit. You exhaled shakily, setting your cup down before your fingers betrayed you and showed just how badly you were trembling.

“It was a long time ago,” You murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. Terry leaned forward, forearms resting on the table, his broad chest rising and falling steadily. His silence was suffocating. Then, finally he spoke up.

“That don’t mean shit and don’t mean it don’t still matter.” He gritted. Your breath hitched. You wanted to hold it together, to keep that wall up just a little longer, but something about the way he said it, the way he was so certain, shattered something in you. You turned your head away, blinking rapidly, but Terry wasn’t having it. Before you could even think, his fingers brushed against your chin, tilting your face back toward him. It was so gentle, so unexpected, that your breath stalled.

“I see you tryna hold it in,” he murmured. His thumb grazed your jaw, his touch featherlight but firm. “You ain’t gotta do that with me.”

And just like that, the dam broke. A tear slipped free, then another, and before you could stop yourself, you were crying. Not loud, not messy, but the kind of silent, shuddering tears that came from years of swallowing your pain. Terry didn’t speak. He didn’t try to shush you, didn’t hit you with some meaningless “It’s okay.” He just… let you cry. And somehow, that meant more than any words could. After a moment, he exhaled through his nose, rubbing a slow, careful circle against your jaw with his thumb.

“Come here,” He said, his voice softer now, deeper. You hesitated, but something about the way he said it—like he knew you needed it, like he wouldn’t push if you weren’t ready—made you cave. You shifted in your chair, and before you knew it, you were leaning into him. Terry caught you instantly. One strong arm came around your waist, pulling you effortlessly into his lap, the other resting against the small of your back. His warmth surrounded you, his scent—woodsy, clean, something unmistakably him—enveloped you. Your face pressed into his neck, his skin warm against your damp cheek. You felt his breath in your hair, slow and steady.

“I got you,” He murmured. And for the first time in a long time… you believed him. You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that. At some point, your tears dried up, exhaustion creeping in, your body growing heavy against his. But Terry didn’t move, didn’t rush you. His hand stayed on your back, fingers tracing slow, absentminded patterns through your shirt.

“You ever tell anybody?”He finally asked. You shook your head against his shoulder.

“Didn’t think so.” He exhaled sharply, his jaw tightening. A long beat of silence stretched between you before he gently spoke.

“You shoulda never had to carry that alone, ma.” He inhaled deeply.

Your throat tightened again, but this time, you swallowed it down. “I didn’t know how to tell nobody,” you admitted. “And when I finally thought about it… it was too late.”

Terry was quiet for a moment. Then—“Ain’t never too late.”

“Terry—” You pulled back slightly, looking up at him.

“I mean it.” His gaze was steady, unwavering. “Ain’t never too late to get what’s owed.”

A cold chill ran through you. You knew what he was saying. He wasn’t talking about healing. He wasn’t talking about moving on. He was talking about payback. You studied him, searching his face for something—anything—that would tell you he wasn’t serious. But he was. He was dead serious.

“You can’t—” Your heart pounded.

“I can.” He countered sharply.

“Terry—” You tried to speak.

His fingers flexed against your hip. “Ain’t no nigga walkin’ free after doin’ that to you. Not while I’m breathin’.”

Your stomach flipped. “I don’t want you getting in trouble for me.”

“That’s the last thing you need to worry about.” His lips pressed into a thin line. Your chest ached. This wasn’t what you wanted. You had spent years trying to put this behind you, trying to move forward. But now? Now he was bringing it all back to the surface. And worse? A small, dangerous part of you wanted to let him handle it. Terry tilted his head slightly, studying you. Then, almost like he could read your mind.

“You don’t gotta decide now.” He murmured, staring at you. You swallowed hard.

“But whenever you ready… you just say the word.” He leaned in, his lips just barely grazing your temple. And with that, the choice was yours. The two of you sat and ate your food in comfortable silence as you just tried to forget about how your past decided to pop up and be a son of a bitch. Eventually after you finished your dinner, you two ended up in the living room, the evening taking on a mind of its own.

The soft hum of ’90s R&B filled the space, smooth and sensual, engulfing the living room around the both of you. Jodeci’s “Freek’n You” played low from the speakers, the bass deep, the lyrics suggestive. You curled up beside Terry on the couch, your body warm from the Henny and slushie cocktail, the ice long since melted. The burn of the liquor coated your throat, loosening you up, making you bold. Your eyes flickered to the mantle above the fireplace, a shrine of memories—your nana’s old porcelain figurines, a few framed pictures, a vase filled with artificial roses that had collected dust over time. You exhaled, rubbing a hand down your thigh.

“I’m really gonna miss this place,” You whispered, almost to yourself.

“So don’t sell it,” He said, simple like it was an easy fix.” Terry, leaned back into the couch, his long legs spread wide, cup resting against his knee, studying you.

You snorted, shaking your head. “I am not a country girl,” You said, flashing him a playful smirk. “And besides, I don’t got a husband or kids to pass this land down to. What would I even do with all this space?”

Terry hummed, taking a slow sip from his cup. His expression was unreadable, but something flickered in his eyes. Something contemplative. You let the silence stretch, the weight of everything lingering between you. The conversation had been too heavy, and you were tipsy enough to crave something lighter. An idea hit you.

Smirking, you sat up, turning toward him. “Let’s play a game,” You said, voice dripping with mischief.

“What kinda game?” Terry raised an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth twitching.

“Rapid-fire 21 questions. But…” You paused, licking your lips, letting the moment breathe, “let’s make it grown.”

“Oh, you tryna be messy now?” His smirk deepened.

You laughed, shrugging. “You scared?”

“Me? Nahhh.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “Aight, bet. You go first.”

You tapped a finger against your chin, pretending to think. “Hmm… Favorite position?”

Terry took a slow sip before answering. “Depends on the woman. Some deserve missionary so I can look ‘em in they eyes while I fuck em’… others?” He exhaled, his voice dropping an octave. “Bent over, face down in the pillow, ass up high.”

Your stomach flipped, but you kept your composure, sipping your drink to hide your reaction.

“Your turn,” you said, clearing your throat.

Terry leaned in slightly, eyes low. “You ever faked it?”

You blinked before bursting into laughter. “Hell yeah.”

His brows lifted. “Damn. That’s crazy.”

“Not my fault some niggas don’t know what they doing,” You teased.

Terry chuckled, shaking his head. “That’s tragic.” He lifted his cup. “Rest in peace to them weak-ass performances.”

You clinked your cup against his, giggling as you both drank.

“My turn,” You said, leaning in a little closer. “Ever had sex in public?”

“Too many times to count.” Terry’s smirk widened.

“Damn. Where?” Your eyes widened.

“Cars. Stairwells. Dressing rooms. A rooftop one time…” He trailed off, eyes glinting with amusement. “You sound intrigued, ma.”

“I ain’t say all that.” You rolled your eyes, fighting back your smile.

Terry just watched you, like he could see through the front you were putting up.

“Alright, my turn,” he said, setting his empty cup down on the table. He leaned forward, forearms resting on his knees, voice dropping into something smooth and dangerous.

“So…” He paused just long enough for the tension to coil tight between you. “That rose… it feel better than a nigga’s mouth?”

Your stomach dropped. The question hit you like a slap, and before you could stop yourself, you choked on your slushie. Coughing, you slapped a hand over your chest, eyes wide as you stared at him.

“W-What?” You coughed. Terry licked his lips, unbothered, amused even. His eyes dragged over your face, then down to your parted lips, lingering there before flicking back up.

“You heard me, ma.” His voice was deep, smooth, coated in something dangerous. “Answer the question.”

Your heart pounded, heat rushing to your face, your thighs pressing together out of pure instinct. This nigga was playing dirty. And the worst part? You liked it. You swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry despite the icy slushie burning your tongue. Your knees pressed together instinctively, but you forced yourself to keep eye contact, refusing to let Terry see how deep his words cut through you. His gaze was heavy, molten, dark with mischief, and he knew what he was doing. He had that lazy smirk on his lips, like he was just getting started, like he was enjoying watching you squirm.

“That’s a bold-ass question.” You cleared your throat, forcing a small smirk of your own.

“And yet, you still ain’t answer it.” Terry leaned in slightly, his broad frame dominating the space between you.

“Why? You trying to compare stats?” You shifted on the couch, swirling your drink in your cup, feigning nonchalance.

Terry let out a low chuckle, the sound deep and rich. He stretched his arm over the back of the couch, fingers just barely grazing your shoulder. “Nah. I already know my stats, ma. I just wanna know if you playin’ yourself out of a real experience.”

Your stomach dipped. This man… this nigga right here…

You exhaled through your nose, refusing to be the first to break. “The rose is efficient,” you finally answered, tilting your chin up in defiance. “It does what needs to be done.”

Terry hummed, eyes still locked on yours. “Efficient, huh? That’s cute. But a machine ain’t never gonna know what your body need the way a real nigga will.”

You should’ve seen that coming. You tried to keep your cool, but the way he said it? The way his deep, raspy voice wrapped around those words like silk? It sent a ripple of heat down your spine. You huffed, shaking your head, but your body betrayed you. Your skin was warming up, and the Henny had you feeling too damn good—a little too relaxed, a little too reckless.

So you smirked, tilting your head. “Oh? And what exactly does a ‘real nigga’ do that’s so different?”

Terry’s eyes darkened, his jaw tightening for a half second before that smirk of his returned—cocky, knowing.

“Everything baby.” The way he said it was so matter-of-fact, so damn confident, it had no business making you clench around nothing. You bit your lip, trying not to react, but Terry caught it. His gaze flicked down to your mouth, watching the way your teeth tugged at the soft flesh, and suddenly, the air between you shifted. He leaned in even more, his knee grazing yours, voice dropping to something silky, almost hypnotic.

“You really think that little toy can do what I can?” His fingers traced the rim of his empty cup, slow and deliberate. “That rose ain’t got no tongue. It don’t know when to slow down, when to speed up… don’t know how to tease you just right ‘til you beg for it.”

A slow, heated pulse throbbed between your thighs. You opened your mouth to clap back, but nothing came out. Your body had already betrayed you—your breathing had deepened, your skin felt too tight, too hot, and Terry was watching every little shift in your expression like he was reading you.

“See, that’s the thing, ma. A real nigga don’t just make you cum. He makes you feel that shit while he’s sucking on your clit .”He licked his lips. Your thighs clenched. Hard. This was dangerous. And what made it worse? Terry knew exactly what he was doing. You bit down on your straw, trying to distract yourself, but it only made things worse. Terry’s eyes flicked to your lips again, watching the way they wrapped around the plastic, how you pulled back slow, tongue flicking out just slightly to catch a stray drop of slushie. He smirked.

“So,” he drawled, swirling the ice in his cup. “How you like to be ate?”

Your chest seized. You choked again but this time, not on the drink, not on food—on air. Your eyes went wide as you coughed, covering your mouth, your whole body heating up like you’d been thrown into a damn furnace.

Terry just chuckled, unfazed, leaning back against the couch. “Damn, ma. That a hard question or somethin’?”

“You can’t just ask somebody that outta nowhere, Terry!” You wheezed, fanning your face.

“Why not?” He shrugged. “You grown, ain’t you?”

You sputtered, taking another sip of your drink, anything to cool yourself down, but the way he was watching you? Like he had all the patience in the world, like he was waiting for you to stop fighting yourself? That made the heat worse.

“A’ight,” He mused, his voice dropping lower, deeper. “Lemme make it easy for you. You like it soft and slow? Or deep and messy?”

Your whole body betrayed you. Your thighs pressed together before you could stop them, and Terry caught it. He didn’t say nothing—didn’t have to. The small smirk on his lips said it all.

“I—” You swallowed.

“See,” Terry cut in smoothly, shifting closer, his knee knocking against yours. “Me? I don’t play when I eat pussy, baby. I clean my plate—efficiently.”

Your breath hitched.

“I like to take my time with it. Make sure I learn every little thing that makes you shake, makes you moan, makes you beg me to stay down there a little longer.” Terry tilted his head slightly, his eyes hooded, that slow, lazy smirk still on his lips. Your fingers curled around your cup, gripping it tight.

“But I ain’t selfish,” He continued, voice like molten honey, thick and dripping with promise. “I’ll tease that pussy if that’s what you like. Kiss on her real slow. Run my tongue real soft against that lil’ spot with your piercing that makes your toes curl. But if you need it nasty?” He licked his lips, letting the sentence hang before finishing, “I’ll drown in it.”

Your stomach clenched. Your thighs trembled. The Henny was hitting too damn good now, because your head felt light, your body warm, and every single thing he was saying was burrowing deep inside you, making you ache.

You stared at him, the temptation thick between you, and whispered, “That… that sounds amazing.”

Terry’s smirk deepened, his fingers brushing lightly over your knee.

“Then let me eat you out,” He murmured. “Let me show you that rose ain’t got shit on me, baby girl.”

Between the slushy, the slow jams playing and the diabolical heat and Nana’s broken AC system. Your brain was fried as you stared in the ocean eyes of a man that was crafted by God himself, practically egging you on to let him taste what you had between your thick thighs. The thought alone of his juicy lips wrapped tightly around your sensitive bud , milking you through your orgasm already had you practically drooling in your panties. You could feel your pussy becoming slippery against your thong as it stuck to you, making you hold back a whimper. As your clit swoll with need, that damn piercing began to betray you and make you nearly cum on yourself as the seat of your panties rubbed it , creating a slow friction.

“Terry, maybe we had too much to drink—. “ You tried to say but before you could even finish your sentence, Terry was in your personal space, making your heart speed up. Terry bit his bottom lip, his eyes locked onto yours, as he slowly wrapped his hand around your throat. Your breath hitched, feeling your heart pounding in your chest, as you felt his touch ignite a fire within you. Your faces were mere centimeters apart, the tension between you two palpable. Your breathing grew heavier, your anticipation building, as Terry’s full lips finally connected with yours in a slow and nasty tongue kiss. It was as if time stood still, your lips moving in perfect harmony. Your eyes instantly fluttered shut and your hand instinctively found its way to his cheek, deepening the kiss with hunger. You couldn't resist the magnetic pull between you two any longer. You scooted closer to him, with your other hand finding its way around his neck. The music in the background seemed to fade out as the two of you lost yourselves in each other's mouths. The heat between your bodies intensified, mirroring the growing desire that pooled between your thighs.

Terry growled as his grip on your throat tightened slightly, causing you to gasp and let out a small moan. It was all the encouragement Terry needed to deepen the kiss further, his tongue sliding sensually into your mouth, swirling and teasing. You moaned, sucking his tongue, allowing your spit and his spit to intertwine. The more his tongue flicked and sucked against yours, the wetter your pussy felt. It was so slick and slippery, you could smell it through your shorts. The living room seemed to transform into a steamy haven as Terry’s strong hands began to explore your body, igniting every nerve ending along the way. Unable to contain his desire for you any longer, Terry let the kiss become more aggressive, his passion shining through every movement. You responded with small whimpers, your lips tingling from the intensity of the connection. Terry’s hold on your neck released, his lips moving down to explore the sensitive soft skin of your neck. You moaned and shuddered, feeling Terry’s tongue swirling against your neck, expertly finding the spot that drove you wild. Terry’s lips sensually kissed and sucked, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. Your grip on Terry’s small curls in his head tightened as your cute moans escaped your lips, only fueling Terry’s nasty desire. Terry’s arms wrapped around your body, pulling you in closer, as your bodies pressed against each other.

“T-Terry, p-please.” You whimpered out breathlessly, rubbing his head. By this point you were a shaky mess and needed some relief quickly. Terry chuckled deeply in your neck, biting it slowly as he trailed his tongue upward, circling it around your earlobe before sucking it into his mouth.

“Please what baby? Hmm? Please what?.” His voice darkened, making your body quiver. As much as you tried to fight it and fight doing something you may ultimately regret. The liquor and your hormones was working against you and you said fuck it. Might as well, might as fucking well.

“Taste my pussy.” You whispered, whining for him. That was all Terry needed to hear before he pushed you back on the couch, allowing your back to rest against the pillows as he continued to leave wet open mouth kisses against your neck. Caution was to the wind at this point and damn the consequences of your actions. You needed to feel something, ANYTHING.

The heat between you two intensified, while your hands roamed freely over Terry’s toned arms, your nails grazing the surface, eliciting a groan and a moan from Terry’s throat. You watched as Terry leaned back, staring down at you as he lifted his shirt up from the back, and in an instant he had it off. You bit your bottom lip at the sight of his rich and healthy body. It was crafted to perfection and made you wanna lick every dip and curve of his cut abs. Terry’s eyes dropped lower as he watched your hand reach down and pop the button of your shorts open, letting him know you were on demon time. Terry smirked, pushing your hands out of his way before he took control, yanking the shorts off of you himself, making you gasp at his roughness. Your hips instinctively raise up to assist him in getting them off of you. Soon as your shorts came off your intoxicating arousal smell hit his nose, making his mouth instantly water.

“Fuck, your pussy so fat.” He remarked, as his ocean gray eyes stared down at the way your pussy sat against the snapped closure of your bodysuit. Your clit jumped as more of your juices seeped through your thong, creating a very noticeable wet spot on the outside of the red fabric. Terry’s eyes stay locked on yours, dark and heavy with intent, as his hands ease up under the curve of your ass, gripping you firm but slow like he’s mapping out every inch. But he doesn’t rush—nah, he takes his time, savoring every reaction, every hitched breath, every little tremble that runs through you. His lips graze over your jaw first, then lower, tracing a slow, burning path down the side of your neck. The heat of his breath makes your skin prickle, your pulse jump. He lingers at that sensitive spot near your collarbone, sucking just enough to make you squirm, his grip tightening on your hips.

“Terry…” His name slips from your lips, part plea, part warning, your fingers gripping at the solid muscles of his shoulders. He hums against your skin, deep and rich, the vibration sinking right through you.

“Relax, baby,” He murmurs, trailing his tongue down the valley between your breasts, the thin fabric of your bodysuit doing nothing to stop the warmth of his mouth. “Let me do this right.”

Your breath hitches when his hands slide down your thighs, then lower, fingers teasing at the clasp of your bodysuit between your thighs. He pauses, his grip firm but patient, his dark eyes flicking up to yours, reading you.

“You want me to stop?” His voice is thick, low, serious. Giving you an out.

You shake your head, pulse hammering in your throat. “No,” you whisper. “Don’t stop.”

That slow, knowing smirk tugs at his lips as he flicks the snaps open one by one, the small pops echoing in the thick silence between you. The fabric of your bodysuit peels away, his fingers grazing over the newly exposed skin of your stomach, making you shudder. Terry shifts lower, dragging his hands up the backs of your thighs, his touch warm, possessive. He takes his time, savoring the way your breathing changes, the way your body reacts to him, completely at his mercy. Your breathing labors as you feel Terry’s lips trail down, slow and deliberate, leaving a path of wet, open-mouthed kisses against your belly. His warm breath fans over your skin, and the heat of his tongue sends a delicious shiver through your body.

“You smell so fuckin’ good, ma,” He rasps against your skin, his voice thick with hunger. His nose grazes the crease of your inner thigh as he inhales deeply, like he’s savoring your wet scent, like he’s already addicted. Your own arousal was beginning to invade your nose turning you on to the highest max. Your thighs instinctively try to press together, but he’s quicker, stronger. His hands slide up, firm and possessive, gripping the backs of your knees before pushing your legs back—high and open—until they’re nearly touching your stomach. With one free hand, Terry pushes your thong out of the way, snapping it at the seams, making you gasp. Your swollen pussy lips spread open instantly for him as he pushes your legs back further. He leaned in slowly and guided one of your legs over his shoulder, running his hands over your supple thighs, parting your slippery wet fat lips to kiss and lick at you swollen clit slowly. You jerked at the sudden warm sensation of his tongue. Terry’s tongue flicked back and forth rapidly against your diamond piercing that sat against your clit, making your walls gush in an instant.

“O-Ohhh fuckkkk! Shit shit!.” You hissed, toes curling in the air. You stared up at the ceiling, feeling your breaths becoming shallow as his tongue worked slow and steady patterns between your pussy folds. His right hand slid up your thigh as he dipped his tongue down further to taste what seemed to have dripped out, grunting as the sweet sensation danced on his taste buds. Your back arched into the couch as your fingers dug into the cushion beneath you, feeling his tongue swirl up and down your pussy sloppily. Your ears were graced with soft lapping sounds as his tongue danced in circles around your throbbing clit. You could feel your creamy juices seeping like liquid gold as his tongue worked in a figure eight motion. Terry slowly started to suck gently on your clit, but then he became relentless, sucking your sensitive and swollen clit into his mouth with determination and precision.

Terry groaned loudly against your skin, the vibration sending a shockwave through your body. “Mm,” he hums, his tongue flicking out to taste your clit again. “Just like I knew you would… sweet as fuck.”

“T-Terry…” Your voice is barely there, breathless, overwhelmed.

He pulls back just enough to look up at you, his lips glistening with your creamy juices, his expression wicked. “I know, baby,” he murmurs, his voice thick like molasses. “Feels good, don’t it?”

You nod, swallowing hard, your thighs trembling around his head. Soft whimpers leave your mouth as you stare at the gorgeous work of art between your thighs. Clit glistening with his spit and your juices as he kisses on it, while his eyes remained locked on yours. You purred, feeling his hand gripping your ass and running his other hand up to knead at your breasts, groaning into your slick lips like he’s the one getting pleasure from it.

He smirks. “Then let me finish my plate.”

And just like that, he dives back in, his pace slower this time, more intentional. His tongue moves in slow, sensual strokes, coaxing you higher and higher until your back arches, your fingers gripping the couch for dear life.

You try to hold back, try to contain the whimpers slipping past your lips, but Terry isn’t having that. “Nah,” he murmurs against your pussy, sending another wave of pleasure through you. “Lemme hear it, ma.”

“Oh daddy… d-don’t stop.” You shamelessly whine. His grip tightens, holding you exactly where he wants you, his tongue working you into a slow, desperate unraveling. He sucks, licks, flicks at your clit until your thighs are shaking, your breaths are coming in short, uneven gasps, and your entire body is tensed like a bowstring ready to snap. You inhale sharply, nearly convulsing, throwing your head back as your hand found its way into his curls. Your feet digging into the back of his shoulders every time he sucked a little more forcefully on your clit. You cried, trying to push his head back, but he held you down. Continuing to shake his head side to side as spit was dripping from his mouth onto your pussy, sucking at your clit with determination. You held his head and watched it go up and down and side to side, creating the perfect cadence to aid in your oncoming orgasm.

“T-Terry— FUCK! Wait— I-I ooooh I’m gonna cum!!” You squeal, feeling your pussy gushing incessantly. You pushed at his forehead again, but he wouldn’t relinquish as his lips stayed locked around your clit, sucking it harder, allowing his tongue to sit flat against it and flick back and forth.

“Oooh yesss daddy yesssss.” You whimpered louder.

He pulls back just slightly, his lips glistening as he licks them slowly, his dark eyes locking onto yours. “Don’t run from it, baby,” he murmurs, his voice sinful. “Take all this shit.” And then he’s back on you, hungrier, deeper, more consuming. Holding you open, eating like it’s his last meal.

“Terry— fuck! oh my god don’t stop.. don’t stop please.” You begged holding his head in place. He used the pad of his thumbs to spread your full lips apart as his tongue circled your entrance before dipping the tip in real slow. You squealed as you felt his tongue thrusting upward against your g-spot, thumping it rapidly. Your eyes rolled back into your skull as you felt yourself dampening his goatee hair.

“So fucking fat and sweet.” He groaned, wrapping his tongue around your clit, sucking all over it nastily as he pushed his face deeper. Your hips bucked upward, feeling your stomach tighten up in a knot. You knew you were about to cum and from the way he continued to assault your clit, it was gonna be intense and messy.

“T-Terry..” You managed to get out, eyes crossing as he relentlessly held your clit captive in his mouth. Terry’s eyes flickered up as he watched you, his gray eyes locked onto your face as he works you over with hard, deliberate strokes of his tongue and the sensation of his lips . He can feel every little tremor in your thighs, every sharp hitch of your breath. But he ain’t letting up. Not yet.

“Relax for me, ma,” He murmurs against you, his deep voice vibrating straight through your core. “Let me take you there.”

Your hands are gripping his curls so tight it should hurt, but he doesn’t care. He loves it—loves the way you’re coming undone just from his mouth, the way you’re trying to hold on when he knows you ain’t got a chance.

“T-Terry…” Your voice is shaky, needy, your thighs trembling in his grasp. You listened to the nasty wet sounds of his mouth devouring your pussy like it was a succulent piece of fruit. You squirmed beneath him, the pleasure becoming too overwhelming, but he didn’t let you play yourself out of what he knew you needed most, and that was a good nut.

“Shh, I got you.” He flattens his tongue against you, slow and deep, before switching up, flicking in a way against your clit in a turbo motion, that has your whole body jerking. He grins against you. “Damn, you sensitive as hell, baby. You been neglecting yourself or that little toy just ain’t cuttin’ it no more?”

You let out a whimper, head tipping back against the couch, body arching off the cushions. He chuckles, low and sinful, before sucking deep, rolling his tongue just right.

“Oh—fuck!” You yelp loudly, holding his head down, trying to scoot back again.

He tightens his grip when you try to close your legs, spreading you wider, keeping your pussy open for him. “Nah, don’t run now,” he rasps, lips glistening as he glances up at you. “You gon’ take all this shit. Let me hear you, baby. Let me feel you.”

He drags two fingers through your slick pussy, teasing your awaiting creamy hole before pushing them in, the cream instantly pushes against his fingers as he thrusts them slow but deep. The stretch makes you gasp, back bucking like a horse off the couch.

“That’s it,” He praises, curling his fingers just right towards your g-spot. “You feel that? Feel how my fingers fit right inside this fat pretty pussy? That little rose can’t do this, can it?”

Your breath stutters, eyes rolling back as he strokes his fingers deep, touching your cervix as he rubs your g-spot, his tongue working in tandem with his fingers, drawing you closer to your orgasm.

“I—I’m… Terry, I can’t—” You whined desperately.

“Yes, the fuck you can,” He growls, increasing his pace, pushing you right to the edge. “C’mon, baby, gimme that shit. Let me feel you cum for me.”

“I-I’m b-bout to cu—“ Your words were instantly cut short as the ache in your stomach intensified and your release shattered through you.

Terry feels it before he sees it, the way your body locks up, the way your creamy slick walls grip his thick fingers like a vice, the way your thighs tremble uncontrollably in his hands. He knows it’s coming, and he ain’t about to let up now. If anything, he doubles down, curling his fingers just right, his tongue flicking against that sensitive clit like he’s got something to prove.

“That’s it, baby,” He rasps between licks and strokes of his fingers, his deep voice vibrating through you. “Let that shit go for me. Don’t fight it. Cum in daddy’s mouth baby.”

Your breath stutters, a choked sob ripping from your lips as the pressure inside you snaps, sending you spiraling into an earth-shattering release. Your entire body jerks violently, back arching off the couch as a gush of liquid rushes out of you, soaking his hand, his wrist, his damn beard. You squirted hard as your orgasm overtook you and left you practically paralyzed.

“That’s it, baby girl,” Terry groans, voice thick with hunger as he licks and sucks clit through it, taking every drop, every last shudder. “Damn, you taste so fuckin’ good.”

“Oh—shit! Terry! YES YESSSSS! Dadddddyyyyy.” You screamed out, thrashing all over the couch as his fingers stroked you through your orgasm, milking it from you. Terry lets out a groan, deep and satisfied, as he watches you lose yourself completely, his lips glistening, his fingers still working you through every wave, every shudder. He doesn’t stop until you physically push at his head, your legs twitching in overstimulation, your breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps. Finally, he pulls back, his face soaked, his smirk downright sinful as he wipes his mouth. His eyes are locked on you and your spent, trembling body, the way you’re struggling to come back down, your chest heaving, your skin glowing.

“Fuck,” He murmurs, his voice thick with pride. “Look at this messy ass couch. Look at you, baby.” He bites his bottom lip, shaking his head. “Told you that little toy wasn’t fuckin’ with me.”

You couldn’t even form words yet, still floating in the aftershocks, but he leans up, pressing a slow, deep kiss against your lips, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. You moan, tongue kissing him back, getting drunk off your own sweetness and scent on his lips.

“You good baby?” He asks against your mouth, his hand stroking your thigh, grounding you. You nod weakly, eyes still dazed, lips slightly parted as you try to catch your breath.

“Y-Yes…” You gently rasp out, too spent to form a coherent sentence.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought.” He smirks. As you lay there, still trembling from the intensity, your body aching in all the right ways, your mind is a swirl of confusion. The walls you’ve built so carefully around your heart are crumbling, and for the first time in years, you feel something close to vulnerability. Terry, with all his heat, intensity, and promises of more, has unlocked something inside you. But a part of you still wonders—should this just be a one-time thing, or are you ready to risk it all? You close your eyes, trying to breathe through the thick sexual tension that lingers in the air. But when you feel Terry’s presence next to you, his hand gently caressing your skin, the question lingers in your mind— do you really want to open yourself up to love again? Or is this simply just getting a nut in while you sort out your Nana’s last wishes?

Now ain’t this bout a bitch!………

@captainwithoutmakingitlove

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@solunaseira

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#aaron pierre #terry richmond #rebel ridge #mufasa #green lantern #terry richmond x black female reader #terry richmond x black oc #terry richmond fanfiction #terry richmond x black reader #terry richmond x plus size reader #terry richmond fic #black fic writer #Spotify

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femmeroll · 2 days ago

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please could you write sevika dating a ballerina reader??? it can be headcanons (nsfwplss) or a short fic or whatever you like, thank uuu 🩷

i adore this!! thank u for the request my lovely ♡

sevika x ballerina!reader

cw: smut & fluff, hyperfemme reader, butch sevika, oral (r!receiving)

when sevika meets you, it’s like something out of a cheesy rom-com. it’s the middle of a cold, grey winter, and there you are at the bus stop. hair in a tight bun, legs adorned with light pink tights, and a frilly leotard to match. your zip-up jacket doesn’t conceal you at all from the bitter weather.

the second sevika sees you, she starts unzipping her heavy winter coat. the temperature was piercing, but she didn’t care. there was a cute ballerina freezing to death right next to her!

“hey…would you wanna borrow this? it’s way too cold for a light jacket like that, don’t want you to get sick or something.”

and the second you see sevika, light blush on her face with a hand outstretched to offer her jacket, a thousand lightening bolts shock your heart. you don’t yet know who this incredibly kind a wickedly handsome person is, but you know in your gut that you will find out.

you get sevika’s number so that you can ‘meet up’ to give her the coat back.

sevika asks you out after texting back and forth for a few days. she invites you to a cute cafe in town, one of those pretty ones that are covered in plants and vintage art.

you bring her coat to return it, but she insists that you keep it.

she pays for your drink and your pastry without hesitation. sevika is fidgeting with her sleeves the whole time. acting all shy as if she’s some high schooler who’s about to hold hands with a girl for the first time.

the two of you spend a whole afternoon getting to know each other. you learn all about her mechanic job and her two dogs and how she really likes doing crossword puzzles. she learns about how you’re a professional ballerina and you spend all your time at the dance studio.

sevika is so smitten it’s unreal. and when she sees you wearing her jacket when your ready to leave, she knows its game over. her heart can’t take it.

dating sevika is a literal dream. she’ll take you to every rehearsal and be in the front row of every single performance.

after every performance she greets you with a bouquet of flowers and the proudest smile plastered on that handsome face of hers.

“you were amazing as always, baby. i was cheering your name so loud at the end! did you hear?”

sevika will rub your sore feet after you’ve been in point shoes all day. every dancer knows just how fucked up your feet can get from those things. she’ll help you soak them in a salt bath and raise them up while she gently massages the pain away. she’s always gentle with you.

sevika prefers date nights at home. her perfect evening with you includes cooking you dinner, eating with you in the living room while watching a movie, and splitting you open in bed.

on the topic of the bedroom…

the first time having sex with sevika is after dance rehearsal. you come to her apartment exhausted and stressed about an upcoming performance.

while you’re trying to rant to your girlfriend, she gets a little distracted. every inch of your gorgeous body is on display in your tight leotard. and the way your legs are clothed in those sexy tights…she wants to eat you alive.

“…and the choreographer was being ridiculous. my feet were sickled for maybe half a second and-”

“can i help you relax?” sevika interrupts.

she gently grabs your hips with a smirk, peeling the straps of your leotard down.

“so worked up, aren’t you babe? let me make you feel better, please.”

sevika frees you from your tight dance clothes and nearly moans at the sight of your body. bare and needy, and it’s all for her. she gently lays you down on her bed, kisses trailing from your lips and throat to your stomach and thighs.

she licks a long stripe from your hole to your clit, warm tongue sending shockwaves through your veins. she groans at the taste, greedily lapping at your pussy. she can’t get enough of the sweetness of you. and your cunt is nearly drooling over the way she eats you like you’re her last meal.

“god, you taste so damn good,” she growls into you, eyes dark as she pushes her tongue inside you. her nose rubs on your clit with every movement.

you’ve never cum so quickly in your entire life. watching her eat your pussy like a woman starved, the feeling of her hot tongue, her nose on your most sensitive bundle of nerves. it’s no wonder your eyes are rolling back into your skull after only a few minutes.

you clench around her tongue, whimpering out her name as she works you through your orgasm. once you start squirming from overstimulation, she comes up to kiss you.

“that make you feel better, baby?”

#sevika #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #sevika x reader smut #arcane #arcane x reader #arcane smut #sevika smut #top sevika #bottom reader #ballerina reader #butch sevika

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h8aaz · 3 days ago

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⋆ ࣪. — BLUEBERRY!SAM — .࣪ ⋆

SUMMARY .ᐟ . . . BLUEBERRY!SAM loves getting messy. too messy. the only ways he does is when he's eating his favorite fruit, and when he's eating you.

WARNINGS .ᐟ . . . big nsfw — MDNI!!! . use of petnames, mostly baby . f!reader . cunnilingus + fingering (duh) . sweet n hungry sammy .

GABS YAPS .ᐟ . . . this is my first fic on here ever so pls be nice to me!! likes, comments, + reblogs are very appreciated <33.

"sammy..." you whine out in a soft yet broken voice as sam continues to eat blueberries out of the container, all while eyeing your half-naked and sprawled out body on the motel bed.

sam hums at your tone as he pops another blueberry into his mouth. the purple colored juice of the small fruit leaks down his chin, meeting the half dried stains of the past ones he's eaten.

"what's wrong, baby? tell me. be good f'me and tell me." the side of his mouth twitches to a soft smirk. the teasing and deep voice that rumbles from his throat goes straight to your bare core. it doesn't help that the squishing of fresh, wet blueberry juice falls from his lips.

you begin to clench on the open air, bucking your hips up softly. you restraint yourself from touching your aching cunt, knowing whatever he's going to do will satisfy you beyond comprehension. but it's still difficult to wait.

sam eats yet another blueberry, dragging his eyes down to your wet folds. "so precious. wonder what you'd taste like with a bit of..." he finally got off his chair and made his way over to you, chewing another berry as he did so.

he slowly kneeled down at the edge of the bed. he grabbed your legs and pulled you closer, gaining a soft gasp from you. his face was mere centimeters away as he smiled at the sight before him.

"added flavor." he groaned while his hot breath fanned against the soft flesh of your inner thighs and the drenched state of your cunt. you let out a small moan from the warmth his words gave you.

"so tell me, sweetheart," he flicked his gaze up to meet yours that was looking down at him. he took in your lust blown eyes, frustrated brows, flushed cheeks, and agape mouth. "what d'you want?" he spoke softly. his voice dripped like honey, but the purple mess around his mouth and chin, slowly making its way down his neck, was making him look far from a sweet man.

he looked hungry. the leftover juice wetted his lips in a way that he almost looked like a vampire in the soft lighting provided by the bedside lamps. he eyed you like a starved man, despite literally eating half a container of blueberries.

you couldn't hold it back anymore. you wanted him. needed him. you forced out your voice, a small twinge of whine at the end of the single word you let slip, "you."

you bucked your hips once more, getting slightly closer to the brunette. "please, sammy. please." you begged. and it worked.

sam immediately buried his face between your legs, pulling you flush against him by your legs. you let out a loud and desperate moan as his blueberry covered tongue worked its way between your folds.

he let out a gutteral groan, the noise sent vibrations against your delicate flesh. you gripped his hair between your fingers and yanked slightly, gaining a moan from him.

the white of your cum mixed with the pink toned purple staining his face. he brought his stained fingers to your hole, plunging them inside and curling them upwards. you let out obscene noises as he continued to hit all of the right spots, all while his tongue circled and softly sucked at your clit.

you shouted his name through pants, whines, and moans as he worked through you. his fingers sliding and curling at a soft, sensual pace while his tongue licked roughly against your pearl and folds.

he savored your taste mixing with the blueberry juice. he pulled away for a moment, earning a pouty whine from your lips. before you could beg him back, he had grabbed a blueberry and stuffed it against your opening, connecting his lips right after.

he licked and sucked against you, pulling the berry out and biting into it, spurting its juices against your cunt. the juice mixed with your own as he continued to move against you, gathering the mixed mess with his tongue slowly.

the sounds of your moans and the wet drags and pops of his tongue and fingers working filled the room, especially when he continued to eat the small fruit against you one after another.

the tight coil burning in your stomach began to break. "mm- sa-sammy," you panted as you grinded against his face, his nose poking your clit, making you moan loudly. "m'gonna-"

"cum f'me, baby. my sweet angel." sam purred against you. the sensation was too much for you to handle. and then you felt the band snap.

the sounds that flew from your mouth were nearly pornagraphic as you shook against sam's face. your fingers tightened their grip on his hair while your thighs locked his head in place. he continued to dig into you while you rode out your high. your back arched as he licked up your orgasm, all that was left were the wet strokes and purple tint his tongue left in it's wake.

your limbs collapsed back against the bed, trying to catch your breath. sam kissed your cunt softly before pulling back and licking his lips. he got up and hovered over you, moving the messy and sweat coated hair out of your face before caressing you cheek.

"you good, baby?" he smiled at your post-glow face before kissing your cheek. "mhmm." was all you hummed before opening your previously closed eyes and grinning weakly at him.

"thank you." you whispered before bringing his face to yours, his warm lips meshed with your cold ones, the taste of you and the fruit prominent. your lips moved in perfect synchronization, tilting your heads to get a better angle. his tongue slipped around against yours for a good while until the two of you had to pull away for air.

"i love you." you panted. sam chuckled softly, pecking your lips. "i love you more, baby." he sighed before laying down and pulling you to his chest. "we're doing that more often, y'know that?" he kissed the top of your head while you smiled and nodded your head, too tired to verbally agree.

go visit my taglist page to choose what you want to be tagged in!! <33.

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cjsmalley · 15 hours ago

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Cujo's Pack:

“Cujo,” Danny spoke to the ghostly pup in his arms, “this’s Damian, he’s family—pack. I need you to guard him as he grows up.”

Cujo took a long sniff of the baby before yipping silently and leaping into the foot of the crib, curling up but keeping watch over his new charge.

Danny, Sam, and Tucker smiled as one though the elder Fentons looked unsure.

“Danny,” Maddie started, “I know now that most ghosts are sapient…but that’s a ghost dog…”

“Was supposed to be a guard dog for Axiom Labs,” Danny shepherded everyone from the room so the conversation wouldn’t wake Damian, trusting Cujo and their enhanced hearing to catch anything amiss, “but they went cyber and put all the dogs down, including the puppies in training.”

“What?”

“Terrible,” Sam agreed with their outrage, “but anyways, Cujo, he stuck around for his favorite toy. We got it for him but then he decided that Danny was his person. He’ll protect Danny…Danny told him to protect Damian, so he’ll do that. And ghost animals are a little smarter than their living counterparts. They’re as smart as they need to be. So Cujo acts dumb and like a puppy but he’s very smart.”

“Danny just had to train him more,” Tucker said.

“There were reports of Phantom taking a library book on dog training and being sighted in the park with it,” Maddie realized.

“He still had guard, attack, hold, down pretty good,” Danny explained as they all sat in the living room, “but seemed to have forgotten the basics. You know I’ve been working with him, even as a human now.”

And he had been; they had seemingly moved on from the basics though and now practiced Search and Rescue techniques. As a ghost, and a fairly large one at that while in his larger form, Cujo could safely extricate people from rubble, ruins, and other dangerous situations.

It was helpful, the townspeople had decided, to have a few friendly ghosts on standby for disaster relief; they were, after all, in the Midwest and suffered the occasional tornado. Danny, especially, was known to help Emergency Services whenever he could.

So the elder Fentons agreed at having a guard dog on the Ghost King’s youngest was probably a smart idea.

And that was how it happened that Cujo was there for almost all of Damian’s milestones. He was remarkably patient with the growing boy, putting up with pulled fur, ears, and tail, poked eyes, and an inquisitive hand in his open mouth.

The young parents quickly corrected their son whenever anything of the sort happened but Damian was just a baby so Cujo, who had found a third, intermediate form the size of an ordinary mastiff, endured.

When Damian did anything, it was not a far-fetched assumption that Cujo was somewhere nearby. Indeed, they had problems with the dog following his boys to school. Cujo only backed off when Damian became old enough to walk to school by himself, though he rarely did.

And it restarted each time the family expanded to include a toddler or baby. When Harry and Neville came, Cujo split his time three-ways when needed and watched over the nursery when they all slept.

When the Winchester boys became Phantoms, he flitted between Sam and Dean.

He was quite relieved when Anakin was a single addition, as was Paige later on.

Cujo was a little confused by Adrien, who smelt like something he should have been chasing, and InuYasha, who smelt like a fellow dog but clearly wasn’t, but accepted them as pack easily.

His person had claimed them, so they were pack and to be taken care of.

Wished Away 9

Tylers meet Phantoms:

“Christ, Mum,” Rose said as she took in how Jackie, Pete, and Tony were dressed, “we’re just meetin’—”

“Royalty!” Jackie squeaked. They were all done up like they were meeting the Queen at Buckingham Palace itself!

“Honestly, Mum, they don’t care,” Rose rolled her eyes, grabbing her mother’s wrist and tugging her through the console room and to the wardrobe room, “I told ya ta dress casually. Let’s just hope the Ol’ Girl has clothes fer ya.”

It took about an hour to get everyone redressed, in things much more casual but still nice, before Rose led them back to the console room.

Jackie was clearly anxious, “Are ya—”

“’m sure, Mum. Danny an’ Sam don’t do formal unless they have ta. Unless you’re an annoying subject or someone threatenin’ war, ya don’t even have ta call ‘em by their titles. They’re just Danny an’ Sam ta family.”

“Lookie what I found,” Jenny bounded from the innards of the TARDIS, holding a tiny bike helmet.

She went to her toddler uncle and put it on him, making sure it fit right, “Landings in the Realms are worse than normal ones. The TARDIS does Her best but the Realms give her…nausea? A headache? She just doesn’t do good.”

“Oh, goody,” Jackie said lowly, hugging a strut for dear life already.

“Let me protect Anthony,” Bad Wolf came out, holding out her arms; without hesitation, Pete handed his son over.

Bad Wolf settled Tony in her arms, against her chest and shoulder, and then spread her feet and crouched slightly, clearly bracing for impact; she stayed steady even as the TARDIS began Her flight.

Everyone else was thrown about the console room, the Doctor and Jenny barely holding on to work the console, but Bad Wolf and Tony did not move an inch.

The landing was rough, just as Jenny said it would be, throwing even the Time Lords to the grated floor before the TARDIS stopped quaking.

Jenny recovered first and stood up, rubbing her shoulder, to peek out the doors, “We’re in the Palace. Uncle Danny and Aunt Sam are waiting…”

Slowly, everyone picked themselves up and Rose reemerged, straightening with some popping from her knees.

Jenny led the procession out, racing to hug a man and a woman, “Uncle Danny, Aunt Sam! How’re you?”

Danny and Sam chuckled and hugged her as one, “Good, doing good. You?”

“Perfect!”

She let go of them to drag Jackie, who was hesitant, forward, “This’s my Gran, Jackie. Mum’s side, duh. Completely human. He’s my step-granddad, Pete, and Mum’s holding my uncle, Tony.”

“Yer Majesties,” Jackie tried to curtsy even though she was in trousers, “an honor ta—”

“Oh, enough,” Sam chuckled, “didn’t they tell you? We don’t do formalities with family.”

“Family?” Jackie’s eyes were wide, “I know Rose said—but—”

“We count Clockwork as family,” Danny explained, “and he’s claimed the Doctor as family. The Doctor and Jenny. Rose’s basically married in by this point. Common-law, you understand. That makes her family our family. Welcome to the Palace, your home in the Infinite Realms.”

“My god,” Pete muttered, somewhat disbelieving.

“Not a god, not yet anyways,” Danny winked.

“Where’s Dani?” Jenny burst out, “Is she still in school?”

Sam grinned, “With Anakin, in the nursery. We let her stay home today.”

“Oh, Gran! Can I introduce Tony to Anakin? Please!” Jenny nearly begged.

“Anakin’s our youngest,” Danny explained kindly, “around Tony’s age, actually. We also have a nanny looking after them, Nanny Clara. He’d be perfectly safe.”

“Well…” Jackie looked to her husband, who nodded, “if you’re sure.”

Jenny cheered and took Tony from Rose, dashing off with him deeper into the Palace.

“Jenny knows the Palace as well as anyone,” Sam assured, “and if she gets lost, she can flag down a servant for help. She’s heading directly for the nursery. It’s the most defensible part of the Palace.

Danny stood up, helping Sam, “C’mon, we can talk over food; stay close, Tylers. Doctor?”

“Rose and I can bring up the rear,” the Doctor agreed, taking Rose’s hand as they began walking.

The Palace was a gothic masterpiece, in a very literal sense, though even Sam had wearied of all the gloom and had sought artists and artwork to fill the halls, soft, plush carpets and tapestries to keep the warmth, glassworks to fill the once barred windows. Statues and busts dotted the hallways, some classical, some avant garde

Masters had given their masterpieces, their magnum opuses; they were paid handsomely of course, in either coin or material.

Oils, watercolors, acrylics, textiles, glass, all created for Her Majesty the Ghost Queen. For His Majesty the Ghost King.

It wasn’t yet a riot of color, nor would it ever be, but it was more alive.

Jackie gasped and the group stopped, turning as one to see what had captured her attention.

“When they said the family was huge…”

Ah, it was the most recent family portrait; all the children were gathered around Danny and Sam, all in formal wear.

“We…sometimes people sell the souls of children to me,” Danny started, causing her and Pete to whip around to him in horror, “I know, it’s horrible, isn’t it? But anyways, we adopt the kids. Only Dani—Danielle—isn’t adopted.”

He pointed out each child and gave their backstory.

“Good Lord, you were young!” Pete said at Damian’s story.

“Old enough to be king,” Danny shrugged helplessly, “it…it wasn’t easy, we had help, so much help, and we made mistakes…”

“All parents do,” Jackie told him softly.

“So we’ve been told,” Sam smiled just as softly, “and we’ve learned and made new ones with each kid.”

Danny coughed and continued to point out kids and tell stories, until all had been covered and then they moved on.

As they neared the dining room, Danielle and Jenny joined them with each holding a toddler.

“Oh my,” Jackie said, taking in the Anakin Skywalker; she knew who he grew up to be, or would have if he had not been adopted.

“We’re hungry, Dad,” Danielle said.

Danny waved them into the dining room where the smaller table was already set for a meal; there were two chairs with booster seats and Jenny and Danielle put Tony and Anakin in them before sitting beside them and helping them get food.

The group chatted over the meal, Jackie and Pete slowly relaxing at how easy going the Royals were, and generally had good cheer.

After the meal was done, Jenny asked, “Do we put their photo up on the family wall now? I know you’ve got me, Dad, and Mum…”

Danny chuckled, “We can, if they’re okay with it.”

“Family wall?” Pete questioned.

“We keep walls of pictures of the extended family,” Sam explained easily, “you know, like Rose, the Doctor, and Jenny. Harry’s and Neville’s parents. Damian’s paternal birth-family. The Royal Portrait is just the immediate royal family. The walls are for everyone and everything else.”

Danny and Sam led the group out of the dining room and down another hallway; the walls were plastered with photographs. Some were professional, most were candid and amateur.

A common camera sat on a small round table; a high-end camera but nothing too expensive or professional.

Danny picked it up, saying, “If Jackie, Pete, and Tony don’t mind—”

Jackie decided it would be a family photograph and dragged the Doctor in; Rose and Jenny came without complaint.

Danny took a set of pictures.

After that was done, it was decided it was time for the Tylers to leave, taking pity on the still disgruntled TARDIS.

They were, however, invited to the next family gathering.

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esamastation · 1 day ago

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Gamer girl gets transmigrated into a farm boy Chapter 5 [<<Prologue | <Chapter 4 || Chapter 6>>] Ao3 link

The rest of the day goes by much the same way it did in the game. They make their way back to the farm, where Van helps Mr. Gylcross unload his purchases and carry some of them to the barn and the rest into the house. Janelle welcomes them with a warm meal and freshly made batch of apple juice, made from, "Apples I picked myself just this afternoon!" as she says. It's delicious.

"What did you buy in town?" Josel asks as they eat.

"Nothing much," Van answers, and ain't that the truth. "Mostly I just looked around, took in the sights."

Josel hums. "Yeah, you haven't been to the town a lot, have you?"

"I guess not," Van agrees, thinking back to the player character's messy background as a hand on the Gylcross farm, and how it might be revealed here - if it even was.

"How did you like it? Did you see anything interesting in town?" Janelle asks curiously.

"It was fine. It was all pretty interesting," Van admits and takes a bite of bread, wondering if she made it herself.

The System journal had updated while he'd been in town, and going by its writing, it was the most amazing thing ever to happen to Katie. Most of the journal entry was her detailing every event that happened, but there were some interesting titbits in between, which Van had noticed but not really thought about at the time.

… Oh my god, the town looks exactly like it did in the game! Only now I'm seeing it all in first person! It's so wild. There's so much more people here than there were in the game, too - probably since the limits of rendering capacity have been thrown out of the window. Real world isn't held back by RAM. Hah.

Also? Kids. There are children here - and not just one-age-fits-all like in some games, no, there's older teenagers and younger teenagers, and I also saw a toddler in the marketplace - and I think one woman had a baby in a sling? A baby! Definitely didn't have any of those in the base game - not a single kid to be had in all of Age of Tales, except in pre-rendered cutscenes. I wonder if it's just for humans, or will we get to see dwarf or elf babies - I've never seen a dwarf baby, ever, in anything I've ever seen or played. Probably not elf either, unless it was like a half-human-half-elf situation brought forth by an illicit cross-species love story.

I wonder if Van can have babies - like, conceive them? I mean, there's romance in Age of Tales, such as it is. There's sex scenes and stuff. Can those now have, like, consequences? Does this world have contraceptives? Is that something that I have to now think about?

Van with a baby would be pretty cute, though. I wonder if I can somehow get him to hold a baby…

And that's where Van had to stop reading in order to preserve the delicate equilibrium of his mental stability.

"There were a lot of people in town," he concludes with a cough to clear his throat, and takes another sip of the apple juice.

Janelle gives him a sympathetic look. "Yeah, it's a bit different from how it's around here, huh?" she says and pats him on the shoulder. "I'm glad you had fun."

"Yeah," Van agrees.

By now he's kind of starting to feel the limits of Katie's social meter, though. She'd never been a particularly extroverted person, and while it's different inside a videogame… this isn't a game, not really. It's been a whole day of interacting with people and trying to figure things out, and Van is feeling mentally kind of worn down.

Plus, he's got an existential crisis scheduled up, and it's starting to feel kind of urgent.

"You mind if I turn in for the day, sir?" Van asks once he's done eating, turning to Mr. Gylcross. "I'm kind of tired."

"Of course, my boy. Just get Bell settled in for the night and get the cart in the barn," Mr. Gylcross says.

Thankfully, Josel has apparently done all other farm-related duties off screen. All Van has left to do is get the cart inside and Bell brushed up, fed, and settled in a stall, all of which happens by automation. Josel, who's got a more permanent berth in a little hutch next to the farmhouse, bids Van good night, and with some relief Van heads up to the hayloft.

There he lays down in the hay, mentally preparing to Think About Things and Handle Them… only to find his mind full of static. He needs to deal with the Realisation and he needs to come up with a plan for tomorrow, because there's a lot coming his way tomorrow.

And yet, even though he lies there for a while, staring at the ceiling, not a single coherent plan comes to mind.

Finally, Van gets up again and goes back down to get a bucket of water. It's not quite as good as a real mirror, but in a pinch…

His reflection is very faint on the water's surface, but he can just about see himself and make out his features. The caramel ice-cream hair is really not looking its best. It's curly in the game, kind of fabulous in a way that doesn't fit Van's body type at all - here it sticks every which way, unkempt and not exactly flattering.

No permanent magical hairstyling in real life, huh.

Combing his fingers through his hair to push it away from his face, Van turns his head this way and that, taking in his features again. The jaw, the cheekbones, the forehead - he really looks like he was drawn by a comic book artist. Except made real.

He's really - Katie is really in Van's body. This is Van, made flesh and blood. Well, he doesn't actually know if the body can bleed, but it probably does. It gets hungry and thirsty. And, judging by the feel of things right now, it also needs to relieve itself. Which is… another thing he hadn't been thinking about.

Sitting on his knees for a moment, Van weighs the oncoming mental health crisis against probably mortifying body function weirdness and chooses the latter, standing up. Time for a true fantasy adventure - figuring out how men piss.

Delightful.

Though as a man he should be able to go wherever - so long as he wasn't flashing someone, anyway - seeing as this is the first time and Katie only sort of knows what she's doing… yeah, some privacy is called for. There's a wooden outhouse behind the farmhouse, which Van slinks his way to like he's doing something wrong and illicit. The outhouse is pretty small and forces him to bend over, and it's overall very awkward. It stinks. The seat is tiny and looks kind of uncomfortable to actually sit on.

Katie has a feeling she's going to miss Earth's modern day plumbing before long.

Right now she has other concerns, though.

Van takes a deep breath - and then regrets it, because of the outhouse smell - before looking down. The trousers are easy enough to figure out, they're basically normal trousers except fastened with a string instead of zipper. The underwear, not so much. While Katie has seen it before and actually spent quite a bit of time trying to figure it out, seeing it on Van now…

It's a kind of cloth wrap thing, like the whole thing is one long stretch of fabric wrapped around the waist and down. The final effect is not unlike briefs, and it's actually kind of comfortable and it definitely keeps everything contained… but if Van takes it off, he will definitely not be able to put it back on again.

Hm, maybe he can, sort of… move it aside…?

Touching it is a bit weird. Katie does a little gibbering flailing thing in the back of his mind while Van tugs at the fabric, feeling all the stuff beneath shift - feeling all the stuff feel the movement. It's weird - having sensations in bits Katie never had before.

Kind of cool though, too. In a sort of unreal way.

Van gets his fingers beneath to pull his penis out and then… there it is, sticking out past the cloth, with its two buddies still nestled in the wrapping.

It would probably be inappropriate to call it a tool. It kind of fits, though. It's very… proportional.

And Katie is suddenly very aware of her long stint as a single woman, because damn. Like, she's never been that into the look or size of a guy's dick - a penis is a penis, they're all kind of the same in the end - but damn. Van has one hell of a dick. Like, Katie probably wouldn't want to have sex with Van, because ouch… but damn.

"Okay, don't play with it, just do your business," Van mutters, thinking back to Katie's stint in the kindergarten and wincing at the memory of potty training. As extremely unsexy thought as there ever was, he thinks with a grimace and then attempts to… manoeuvre himself into position. "Just point and aim."

It's weird, and very… fleshy. But at least the rest of the operation is roughly the same for a man as it is for a woman - bladder is a bladder, apparently. It's still weird - as is not needing to wipe afterwards. It doesn't feel like it's enough, to just shake it. Not that there's anything to wipe with in the outhouse.

"Weird, weird, this is so weird," Van mutters, shaking himself and then quickly tucking the weapon away.

There's nowhere to wash his hands afterwards.

"Great," he mutters and then slinks back to the barn where he sleeps at night. His mirror water turns into hand washing water, and he still feels a bit dirty afterwards. He's hyperaware of what's going down below the belt, all of a sudden. Also, maybe getting a bit hard? Is it really that damn easy to get riled up as a man? Van's not even thinking of anything sexy, and apparently it's going up on its own. What the hell?

Climbing up to the hayloft, Van lies down and tries to not think about his dick. He's got an existential crisis on his hands. Woman stuck in a man's body here. This is no time for any kind of self-inflicted fun times. He needs to experience the horrors of being not in a body of his own. Her own. Whatever. Body dysmorphia, here we go!

Yeah, no, apparently not. His mind keeps slipping downwards along with the blood pooling there, as though the damn thing has a gravity of its own. He can feel his penis straining his underwear - taking it out, putting his hand around it, it would feel… probably pretty good right now. And it's not like Katie doesn't want to - like she hasn't been curious what it was like, how it would work. Porn and smut painted a pretty vivid image, of course, but nothing beats hands on experience.

Mmm, hands on…

Van stares at the ceiling for a long moment, biting his lip. There's no one in this end of the barn but him. The Gylcrosses are in their house, Josel is off in his little hutch… there's no one here. No one but him.

… Right, okay. Fine.

With a grunt Van gets up to find a rag or something.

It would clear his head too, probably, if all the post nut clarity memes are to be believed. He would have his existential crisis with a clear mind afterwards.

Katie wakes up the next morning to the cock crowing somewhere outside and has a moment of flailing confusion at the feel of all the hay around her and sight of the wooden ceiling and beams above her head… before everything comes back.

Right. She's still here. She's transmigrated into Van and to the very start of Age of Tales. And it's now day two.

"Shit," Van murmurs, running a hand down his face. His chin feels bristly - apparently that's a yes on the needing to shave going forward, if he wants to keep Van's chiselled chin in view. Which is probably not all that important, considering that, well…

Tonight, the plot would finally kick off in earnest.

Breathing in and out for a moment, Van lets his arm drop to his side. He hadn't even thought of what he would do, beyond the usual. Even with all the dramatic consequences, the Rift opening was still part of the tutorial, and so all the enemies were pretty low level. The character was meant to run, of course - at this point there was not much they were supposed to be able to do against them.

Emphasis on the supposed. This is, however, Age of Tales.

The whole tutorial section is a bit… Well, overall, Katie gets it - the whole point of the tutorial section is to paint the illusion of peaceful normalcy and introduce the player to the base mechanics and the NPC shops before the plot can kick off and burn the whole idyllic place to the ground for shock value. The first time Katie went through it, it was pretty epic, overall.

But giving the players the chance to shop before the fight was kind of dumb.

Because, while the game didn't get that popular, it had some players, and just about everyone who did play it went about the tutorial the same way. They gambled for cash and kitted themselves out as best they could as soon as they could… and in so doing, turned the whole Rift thing into a bit of a joke by actually standing up against the invasion, something they plot-wise weren't supposed to be able to do. And most of them didn't even realise it, breaking the game completely by accident.

And when you went about it perfectly intentionally, well… the Rift stopped being a threat at all and became the perfect spawn kill camp.

That was what Van had been planning to do - until reality nerfed Katie's money-making tricks.

"System, open inventory," Van calls.

[Inventory] [Simple Knife, lvl. 1] [Shepherd's Slingshot, lvl. 1] [14 x Basic Stone Ammunition ] [3 x Spearhead] [1 x Apple] [Empty Jug] [Dirty Rag]

Yeah, not exactly winning starter gear, especially considering that he still doesn't have a single shred of proper armour. He hasn't been this poorly prepared for the Rift since the very first playthrough - and even then he at least had some armour and a sword! Reality is really kicking his ass this time.

He can't figure out if it's frustrating or exciting. Probably the first one.

"Guess I'm making some spears," Van muses and then sits up with a grunt. Finger-combing the hay out of his hair, Van eyes the dirty rag and then winces. He would need to get rid of it, and maybe he could wash up somewhere before getting started. Unfortunately, he doesn't think there's a washroom or anything around here…

[Farm Chores, Lvl. 1.] [It's a new day on Gylcross farm, and it's time to get to work!]

[Farm Chores 1, Lvl. 1.] [Let the chickens out.] [Let the goats out.] [Let the cows out.] [Let Bell out.] [Quest reward: 10 exp, 3 Apples.] [Farm Chores 2, Lvl. 1.] [Muck the pens and stalls.] [Quest reward: 10 exp, 5 Fresh Eggs.] [Farm Chores 3, Lvl. 1.] [Take a look at the garden and weed Ms. Janelle's vegetable beds.] [Quest reward: 10 exp, 4 x Mixed Herbs] [Farm Chores 4, Lvl. 1.] [Milk the goats and the cows.] [Quest reward: 2 exp, 1 Bottle of Milk.] [Accept?] [Yes.] [No.]

Van winces a little at the sudden bombardment of pop-ups. Looks like he has some work to do. How much it all will matter when this time tomorrow the farm will be in ruins aside… exp is exp. And if he could squeeze in another level up before the Rift, it definitely wouldn't hurt.

Standing up - and bending over to duck below the ceiling beams - Van shuffles to the ladder to start the day with a quick rinse in a bucket of cold water.

By the time he heads out of the barn, Janelle has breakfast ready and set in front of the farmhouse. "Good morning, Van!" she calls, waving. "Come have some eggs and pancakes!"

Josel is already there and already stuffing his face with eggs. "Good morning," Van greets them both and then asks, interestedly, "Pancakes?"

"Yeah - Daddy bought flour and sugar yesterday!" Janelle says excitedly. "We've got some honey too - come here and try it."

Van does, sitting down beside Josel, accepting his share with a, "Thank you, miss." It looks great, and it smells even better.

"It's Janelle," the farmer's daughter says firmly and sits down across from him.

The breakfast is great, as are the pancakes. Mr. Gylcross doesn't make an appearance, but no one comments on it, and so Van doesn't either - maybe the man sleeps in when it's not a market day, or something. After they're done eating, Josel helps Janelle clear out the table, while Van considers his quests.

"Are you going to let the animals out?" Janelle asks, wiping her hands in her apron. "I'll come with you - I'll collect the eggs while I'm at it."

"Sure," Van agrees and offers Josel an apologetic nod before following Janelle towards the chicken coops.

It's a perfectly pleasant day, with only a few fluffy clouds in the sky and just the barest hint of a breeze in the air. The sort of day when nothing bad is supposed to happen, of course. Perfectly normal day.

"Daddy says you visited the tailor yesterday," Janelle comments. "That you ordered some kind of armour."

Van blinks and looks at her. "Uh, I didn't realise he knew about that," he says. The man hadn't mentioned it. How did he find out, anyway? "I did, yeah."

"Why?"

Well, there's going to be a battle in Westbrook the day after tomorrow, and then the place is going to be set on fire, and Valthor's most annoying minion is going to make a grand appearance. Van is really hoping to curbstomp that guy's smug little face to the ground, and armour would make that much, much easier. "Well," he says, because clearly he can't say any of that. "I don't know. Just felt like it, I guess?"

Janelle looks at him carefully, and asks, "Have you… remembered something?" she asks. "About your past?"

Van hesitates, because in the game the player character never remembers time before the farm - but he does learn about it from others. "No, not really," he says finally. "I just… have a feeling I'm going to need something. Actually," he adds and takes a spearhead out of the satchel. "I also got a few of these."

Janelle accepts the dull spearhead, tilting her head with confusion. "Is that a weapon?"

"Head of a spear - I'm going to find some pole to stick it on," Van says and shrugs. "And then I'll have a spear."

Janelle shakes her head, looking a little upset. "But what do you need a spear for?" she asks.

Van shrugs again. "I don't know. It just feels like something I should have."

Janelle hums unhappily, turning the spearhead in her hand. "So, I was right," she murmurs and looks at him sadly. "You are a soldier."

In the game you learn the main character's background in flashbacks and hints from the designated Mentor character at Ulgor's Camp, but it's a pretty cliché dealio overall. The player character has amnesia - of course - and was left at the Gylcross farm by a Mysterious Hooded Person - of course - while the Mysterious Hooded Person ran away all suspicious-like. Janelle Gylcross eventually found the player character hiding in the barn hayloft, all confused and out of it and bleeding from the head. Through some interrogation and arguing with her father, Janelle got him settled in as a new farm hand.

It's all shown to the player in this grainy sepia cut scene, a collage of moments as the player character learns how to swing a hoe and milk the cows and stuff. It's pretty wholesome. And the fact that it's shown to you only after the farm has been burned down and everyone there was killed, well… Katie has some issues with the arrangement of narrative there, but it was kind of a punch to the gut, the first time she played the game.

Also absolutely hilarious, watching this brick shithouse of a man do these cute farm chores, like carrying baby lambs around, delicately harvesting berries from the bushes and weeding garden beds.

"I'm not a soldier," Van says and accepts the spearhead back. "I just feel like it'll be better to be prepared than not."

"Right," Janelle says and hugs herself, looking uncomfortable. "Are you going to leave the farm? I know Daddy only contracted you until the harvest, but… I thought you liked it here."

"Well… it is nice," Van says. And it really is. He looks at the farmstead around them and hums thoughtfully. It's very peaceful and idyllic and wholesome. In the game it's often implied how much the player character wishes he could've stayed there, wishes none of the terrible things that followed wouldn't have happened, and the world could've stayed as it was.

More than another day of it and Katie would be climbing the walls, bored out of his mind.

"I guess we'll see," Van says and smiles at Janelle. "You never know what will happen."

[<<Prologue | <Chapter 4 || Chapter 6>>] Proofread by @nimadge, many thanks

I call this the Tool Inspection Chapter. And I hope it made at least one person laugh as much as it made me to write it.

#original fiction #isekai #transmigration

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friendlymathematician · 3 months ago

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gilmore girls is nostalgic but it gets worse and worse in terms of misogyny every time i watch it

#should i unearth and complete my fanfiction version?#lane x dave and she's in a band and opens a record store #not a single baby in sight for them and they like it that way #rory x paris as was meant to be from the start #neurotic overachieving women who don't drop out of yale to have a baby with a mediocre dude #they do have babies though. insemination and they get pregnant at the same time. on purpose because paris thinks it's logical.

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pocketsizedquasar-3 · 3 months ago

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you know. white liberals would be far less annoying (still deeply annoying) and far less difficult to take seriously (still deeply difficult) if they stopped lying to themselves and everyone else about what they were doing. ‘cause y’all either sound completely stupid and removed from reality at best or violently callous at worst.

(and before anyone fails their reading comprehension here, i am not telling anyone to vote or not vote or who to vote or not vote for. get off my dick.)

but no, you’re not doing “real leftism” by voting for kamala (something i have actually seen countless people say. “real leftists” would vote for kamala!!1!!1!! if you don’t vote for her ur not a “real leftist!!!!”). that’s not what that is. words mean things. you’re actually engaging in pretty textbook liberalism. it’s not “real leftism” to vote for a genocidal fascist who is actively employing genocidal fascistic policies both overseas and domestically, and who has pledged gladly to continue doing so. (again, bc this is the bad reading comprehension website, i’m not telling you if you vote for kkkamala ur not a “real leftist” (mostly because that’s meaningless); i’m saying that that act itself is not a """leftist""" action). if you feel the need to justify what you’re doing to yourself by pretending you’re doing ~real leftism~, stop.

you're not “stopping fascism” or “saving democracy” or whatever else. you’re not “stopping fascism” by voting for a fascist. you’re not “saving democracy” by voting for a fascist. if you genuinely can’t see in this current moment that kamala harris & the democrats are fascists, you are deliberately ignoring and excusing fascism as long as it’s happening to nonwhite people. it is willful, deliberate ignorance at this point and it is violent. you genuinely do not see victims of fascism unless it happens to white people.

you’re not “protecting palestinians” by voting for kamala. you’re not making their chances better or being better for them or improving their conditions. you’re not “more likely” to sway kamala on palestine; you can’t even threaten to withhold your support for her because of her wanton slaughtering of palestinians. 13 months of ongoing genocide and ongoing mass protest movements and multiple polls showing that she would literally guarantee the win in key swing states if she would just call for an arms embargo / ceasefire as part of her platform have not swayed her. she constantly, constantly reaffirms her willful, enthusiastic support of this genocide. she has said over and over again that she will not end her support for israel, that she would not have done anything differently than biden, that she has no intentions to stop sending israel arms and money so they can keep slaughtering palestinians and now lebanese. you are not “protecting” or helping palestinians by voting for her. keep their names out of your mouths.

you’re not protecting """minorities""" or """poc""" either. not when the candidate is a cop whose administration has already funneled billions of dollars into the police and the military, who is priding herself on wanting to create the most lethal military, on being tougher on the border&immigration than trump, who is happily continuing to perpetuate racist atrocity propaganda to justify the mass slaughter of palestinians, who continues to reaffirm and support the escalation of imperialism and war even elsewhere in the so-called middle east, who is gladly seeking (and securing) endorsements by racist white supremacist republicans (like dick fucking cheney. come on), whose administration has been for four years enthusiastically accelerating the climate crisis, whose campaign has been littered with examples of both their supporters and the politicians themselves being virulently racist. you’re not protecting us. you’re not helping us.

your candidate wants us dead. your candidate wants me dead. your candidate wants my people in iran dead. your candidate wants my sister peoples in palestine and in lebanon dead. your candidate is actively orchestrating their slaughter.

kamala might be better for you, white liberal american. fine. vote for her if you wish. no one is stopping you. but stop white knighting about it. stop pretending you’re doing this for anyone but yourself. stop lying to yourself and everyone else about what you’re doing. stop speaking over us the with fucking audacity that you’re somehow doing us a favor, and stop talking down to us, palestinians especially, like they are children who need to be ~explained~ the right way to save them. stick your white savior complex up your ass.

vote however you want, but stop lying about what you’re doing and who you’re protecting.

and if you want my vote too? fucking earn it.

#us politics #politics #genocide #kamala harris #liberal #joe biden #palestine #israel #racism #quasartalks #if dems wanted me to vote for them they’d stop being so fucking racist to me & people like me. they’d do the literal one (1) thing that the #statistic vast majority of usamericans want. but they won’t. they care less about winning the election — and less about /doing their job/#(you know - responding to the wishes of their constituents they represent) — than they do about being able to continue bombing hospitals #and burning children alive in tents. they would rather blow babies’ brains apart than win the election. they KNOW. that they would GUARANTE #A WIN. if they would STOP SLAUGHTERING PEOPLE. and they DO NOT CARE ABOUT WINNING ENOUGH TO DO IT. they dont care abt winning the election #enough to stop slaughtering civilians.#why should i care then? if they don’t? if they clearly don’t care enough to do the single thing that would guarantee the win?#you’re asking me to care about people who care more about killing me than they do winning the election. be so for fucking real.#and leave me alone. leave us alone.#vote for whatever you want. but keep our names out of ur mouths.#i’m going to try to have this b the only actual post abt this i make #but goddamn. dems are so disgustingly violently racist and you get madder at the ppl they deliberately denigrate than u do them for-#-alienating swaths of their voter base. y’all are a little too excited abt these racist maniacal genociders.#we see the way you celebrate racists. if kamala wins and you’re doing anything but breathing relief that trump is gone and strapping in to #actually 'pressure' kamala like u said u would? if i see any of you freaks Celebrating?? celebrating these racist wastes of space?#it’s on sight lmao

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screampied · 17 days ago

Text

#RAW! NEXT QUESTION?

☆ sum. ain’t nothin’ like ditching the condom for the very first time! get in loser, he’s going shopping raw. sukuna, toji, ijichi, nanami, gojo, geto, choso.

warnings. fem! reader, protected -> unprotected, raw, cult leader! geto, switch choso, condom breaks, ęxhibitionism (geto), overstim, bulges, big dicks yum, slight mommy kink, spanks, whiny feral men, dirty talk, dumbification, sqúirting, brief cunnīlingus, bręeding, slutting them out, praise.

✩ ˛˚ . IJICHI KIYOTAKA.

“o- oh, ohhh,” ijichi stammers, pushing back the fogged lens of his glasses. as a hand awkwardly grips onto your waist tightly, ijichi takes a second to swallow down a long, anxious gulp. the minute he snatched his condom off - he was just so needy. the lower part of his lip quivers as his eyes zero down at your body.

and fuuck, your pussy’s just leaking, continuously dripping as it hovers over his sanguine-colored tip. he’s letting off subtle sharp grunts as you give your impatient hips a tiny taunting wriggle. “mngh- you want me to go in-” and he pauses, dramatically gulping again. “… raw?”

“mhm, ‘jichi baby,” you’d bite back a moan, feeling his curious hands grab toward your jouncing breasts. this always happened, ijichi was supposed to be doing paperwork. he’s had so many supplementary tasks and duties that had a strict deadline, and yet here he was - doing you instead of doing his paperwork. not that he complained at all though. widened, almond-shaped eyes watched as you brought two fingers towards your sopping pussy, spreading it apart just above his tip. “inside,” and teasingly, you took off his glasses, putting them over your own eyes. “can you do that for me?”

“hah- yes mommy- ahem- my love, i mean.”

“did you jus’ call me mommy?” you chaff, bringing a kiss toward the hooked bridge of his nose. with his glasses now off - you saw a good glimpse of ijichi’s face and he’s never felt more flustered. he didn’t mind whenever you took control, although - whenever you did, he had a bit of a habit of quickly submitting.

“did i?” he coyly cheeses, a tear of sweat racing down the side of his thin brow. ijichi moans, bringing his tip towards the outer part of your cunt. sloppily, he smudges his drooling wet cockhead against your heat before gulping for the third time. “can.. can you blame me though? you’re so wet that it’s makin’ me.. heh- slip over my wor- oh my-” ijichi shakily breathes, feeling your hand wrap around his thick cock.

a thumb of yours softly scrapes down the loose skin before colliding against a single, prodding vein. excitedly, it pulses at your touch - and you hummed, aligning the swollen head against your pussy. “mgh- so.. so big, ijichi,” you’d gasp out, still wearing his glasses. he stares at you, his dick twitching at the sight - how cute you looked while wearing them and how his glasses were so close to slipping off the bridge of your nose.

“fuck- ‘s okay, jus’ keep goin’ inside me,” and he mutely gasps, ogling as your hands cup underneath both of your bare tits. “can you.. hah- do that for me?”

“mhm,” he moans, his head already lowering to bury between your chest. if there was anything ijichi loved, it was your pretty perked breasts bouncing in front of his face. he loved to run the tip of his sticky tongue ‘round your sensitive nipples, slurp after slurp popping away from his thin-lined lips.

unhurriedly, his cock’s still making its way inside you, and he grumbles, feeling your hands ruffling through his slickly parted hair. “so mngh- perfect, my dove-”

with a single hand - you’re bringing him closer toward your chest, biting your lip as you’re trying to adjust to the incoming thiiiick stretch. without the condom like usual—it feels a lot more wet, a lot more… raw.

your pristine slickness was taking ijichi by surprise—and he inhales hoarsely, feeling your cunt splash its wetness all over his base. after just a few inches inside of you, ijichi already knew he wasn’t gonna last. he’s a big guy - and his dick stretched you out in all the right ways despite how he wasn’t even fully bottomed out yet. it felt like he was though, and you’re already impatient, craving clamping around all girthy nth-inches.

“f- fuck-” you’d mewl out weakly, still feeling the flicks of his hot tongue swirl around the center of your tender nipples. his lashes were closed—and he was letting off muffled moans once he felt the clamoring loud slam of your ass plop onto his lap. a single bounce and he’s spasming underneath you. you whimpered, hurling your arms around him before feeling his tip gingerly slap its way against your beating g-spot.

a hidden coil trapped deeply within your stomach tightens—and you’re letting off sweet, needy ‘ooh’ ‘s and ‘ah’ ‘s continuously. as ijichi’s rosy lips were puckered, he’s still merrily taking turns at sucking each of your pretty breasts while looking up at you. “ ‘jichi, baby- fuckk, i- i feel something comin'- don’t stoppp-”

“haah- ‘course, m’love,” he resumes to wetly swirl his tongue over both sensitive nipples. so sweet. he’s roughly sucking against each, releasing wet popping sounds from his lips before a free hand squeezes your ass. ijichi’s bottomed out now, and his heart’s damn near beating out of his chest.

he got off to your pleasure, and every few seconds—darkened, dilated irises would glance back up toward you.

ijichi’s been inside you tons of times, but never raw. and he’s had his inexperienced moments for sure—but to say he was a quick learner was surely an understatement. as his lips were securely cupped around each one of your tits, he brings a hand toward the crack of your thighs. you’re practically cockwarming him, and you start to feel a familiar elated feeling brewing ‘n brewing up inside of you.

it didn’t take long before your thighs fiercely shook, and you’re whimpering at the stimulation of him tending to your breasts and now smearing a thumb around your twitching, sensitive clit. “ijichi- oh!” you’d squeal out suddenly, shuddering over his lap once you finally burst.

all it took was for his thumb to toy with your cunt and his fatly-shaped tip to prod against your beloved g-spot one more time for you to break. what comes abruptly was how you ended up gushing literally - squirting a dewy geyser all down between your legs, soaking his cock from the inside. your face blissfully falls in pleasure, and you’re letting off the prettiest orgasm as you hear ijichi mumble a faint, cheeky ‘oh wow’ against your ear.

“ngh!” your body slumps into his chest, feeling every muscle that made up your thighs grow numb. your pussy’s just soaking him - and you’re whining the entire time, feeling his lips pop away from your lustrous tits. ijichi’s matching the rushed pants of your breathing as he wraps an arm around you, feeling your body shiver. “f- fuck, fuck- fuuuck-”

as his hefty dick’s still inside of you—ijichi’s chest deflates in ‘n out, and he’s clenching his jaw at the imagery of actually cumming inside of you. he wasn’t too worried about his finish though because he’s bringing a kiss toward the crown of your head as beads of sweat tore down all sides of his forehead.

“hah- did i … do that, m’love?” he breathlessly asks, guiding a hand between your legs that had a literal waterfall pouring down your sticky inner thighs. you’re entirely out of breath, and as you cutely tried to put his fogged glasses back on his face, ijichi hummed.

“y- yeah-” you whined, still feeling the pangs of pleasure surge through every part of your body. ijichi’s throbbing tip pulses against your clit causes you to let off another candied whimper.

panting heavily, ijichi brings a hand toward your chin before gripping it. “o… ohh,” and he sneaks a single wet kiss against your lips. you moaned at his minty taste before feeling him gingerly lift you from his cock, bending you over his unkempt, messy desk. your chest lands over his scattered piles of papers—and ijichi stands up, swatting a hand against the bare cheek of your ass.

the harsh slap! brings you straight back to reality, and you gasped. “mmgh-” ijichi re-positions his crooked glasses one more time, feeling his dick twitch at the pretty sight of you happily arching for him over his desk.

with a low, needy gruff — ijichi’s cockhead sliiides a zigzag line down the front of your pussy before feeling you trying to squeeze against nothing but air. “hah-” he inhales sharply, and you gasped before feeling his hand gently snake around your neck. bringing two lengthy fingers towards your sopping cunt, ijichi’s voice slightly pitched before he gives your folds a teasing spank.

“let’s.. do that again, my love. wanna.. haah- see how much wetter you can get,” and he clears his throat, placing a trail of wet kisses down your spine.

“heh- for you know- research purposes.”

✩ ˛˚ . SUKUNA RYŌMEN.

“don’t say such foolish things when you’re already this soaked,” sukuna prowled, swatting the flat part of his palm against your cunt.

you whimpered at the instant impact, seeing your tummy heave in and out through your peripherals as you lay on your back. on sukuna’s king-sized bed, he had you in the middle with your legs widely spread like an eagle’s wings. “tch. nasty little girl, never thinkin’ with your brain-”

he continued gruffly, his balmy-red tip maneuvering a few translucently wet shapes around the entrance of your heat. you’re so slick, and he hisses at the unkempt warmth that occurs on his crownhead before spanking your throbbing nub thrice. “always thinkin’ with your pussy, ‘n now you want me to go in raw, hm?”

“kuna.. pleaaaase-”

each ricocheting slap he creates against your slick-running folds has you biting your lip. “fine,” he grumbles, the head of his rounded plump shaft turning an angry beat red. the plastic material of the condom that’s snugly fit ‘round his cock gets pulled off by his hand. you’re moaning - mewling, feeling the parched rawness of his dick smearing down your puffed entrance. instantly, your thighs become shakier than ever, and you’re biting back an incoming moan once he’s easing his way inside.

“god- so fuckin’ warm inside, hah-” sukuna rumbles through whetted bared fangs, a few of his sharp nails piercing into the torrid, warm flesh of your skin. you’re just lying flat on your back the entire time, whimpering as his cursed cock’s just soppingly sinking itself through your tightening walls. his tip alone was big, and you’re letting off drafty gasps of air because of the sultry-hot feeling. “mngh- that’s it, girl. clench around me, use that wet pussy to suck me i- in, fuuuck-”

sukuna gets rudely cut off from the slimy loud plaps of your folds slickly suffocating every thick inch. he’s for once speechless - and you could hear his rasped breaths quicken the longer he spends inside rummaging through your walls. sukuna’s capped tip was thoroughly stuffed inside of your cunt before he’s feeling that familiar pulse arise. “ugh- so fuckin’ wet- pussy’s more.. hah- evil than i thought,” he groans, the lower half of his slim torso stiffening.

“mgnh- fuck, ‘kuna,” you’d wheeze out, feeling his weighty cock reach deep deep deep. he’s not even moving his hips and yet it feels like he’s just plowing straight into you. sukuna’s huge, and the crown of his shaft alone was enough to cause your poor legs to tremble. within seconds—your breaths became more and more shallow as your mind’s just being turned into pure gooey mush. “that’s it, baby, press down on my tummy hngh-”

“don’t tell me what ‘ta do,” he grumps, but his palm lands on top of your stomach anyway. there, he feels the faint protruding bulge rub against the center of his hand and he grunts. riotously, sukuna’s hips were just shaking, and he felt like if he’d give you just one more thrust - oh, he’d cum.

it’s a looot different than having the rubber on. he feels how hot you were, how ridiculously sopping wet you were - how fuckin’ raw you felt from the very inside. it makes him nip at the bottom of his lip with his fang, cherry eyes leisurely rolling back in feral awe. “ ‘m gonna cum, not gonna laaaast- ugh.”

sukuna’s head tosses itself back and he lets off a loud growling prowl, the slick warmth of your pussy making him nearly slip out of you. with a slippery, wet grip that you had—sukuna wasn’t sure if he was gonna last long.

“mmh- running away already, sukuna?” your moan, a bratty giggle flying past your glossed-puckered lips once his cerise gaze falls upon you. sukuna’s intently glaring, but his expression quickly shifts once his fat tip strikes a single, sloppy hit against your g-spot not once, not twice but thrice.

third time’s the charm, and he’s just ceaselessly slamming the huge, bulky crown of his cockhead against that same tender spot. doing so causes you both to let off the sweetest, lewdest moans in utter unison.“f- fuuuck,” you’d hum, bringing your hands to fondle your bouncing tits.

you continued to lie underneath him, staring at the demon on top of you that was sweating bullets. his pace was simply relentless, and he’s grunting at each slapping pound he creates effortlessly with his keen hips.

“ugh- ‘m cumming, ‘m fuckin’ cummin” sukuna growled, his heavy body clumsily flopping onto yours. coincidentally enough, you ended up finishing too, and your sweetened, high-pitch moans were just music to his ears. “fuck, fuck, f- fuck-”

sukuna grumbles muffled swears into your neck as he slowly but surely pops a hot, velvety knot inside of your cunt. your legs wrapped around his waist, and you’re whimpering as his hips sync against your own. “hngh- sukunaaa,” and the way you squealed his name off your tongue had his cock twitching for more. your thighs quavered with pure anticipation, and you felt your chest steadily heave in and out against sukuna’s sweaty pecs that lay against you. “s- so fuuullll-” you’d let off a prolonged whine, tilting your head once his fangs cutely nip against your skin.

your high felt just as brutal - and as a crashing wave of endorphins released all down your body, he could feel you spasming underneath him. your cunt was even more clingy than you were, its tight gripping hug making him snarl a faint whimper into your neck.

“ugh- you ‘n this… f- fuckin’ cursed pussy,” sukuna shakily murmured, still buried balls deep. he’s been finished filling you up, and you could feel him sniffing down your neck. sukuna’s body violently shakes with yours, and he’s hissing off swears before feeling a few pasty-white droplets of cum dribble down your thighs. “mngh- can’t feel my legs, ugh-”

“you know, for the king of curses, you sure do whine a lot-”

“s.. shut the fuck up and … hold me.”

✩ ˛˚ . SATORU GOJO.

with satoru — he’s a freak.

his favorite thing to do was to finish inside of you raw before lapping it right up. satoru’s bright, sparkly lashes flutter at every pausing jiffy as you’re hovering over his face with those pretty wet legs of yours spread open . . fuckin’ . . wide.

such … a … sight.

“mgh- c’mere you..” he pouts, snaking a hand around your waist before lolling out the flat of his tongue.

it’s a hot pink - colored and almost a vibrant shade of strawberry before it flicks a slippery stripe down your puffed slit. you’re so full - he’s filled you with clods ‘n clods of bubbly ropes so much that a bit of frothy residue started to stream down the middle part of your pussy. it’s such a filthy view, and he moans at the bittersweet taste of himself dripping onto his buds alone.

“f- fuck, ‘toru-” you’d whimper, your quavering knees positioned against each side of his head. with your legs sprawled into the letter ‘v’ — you’re slowly starting to rock against his chin. “mhm- lick me clean, baby. good boy.”

“don’t .. fwah- call me that.” satoru slurps, white brows cutely tugging into a stubborn furrow. stubborn even with his mouth full.

gnawing the inside of your gummed cheek like it was bubble gum, you let off a faint, quivering whine once you feel his teeth playfully nibble towards your cute ‘lil twitching clit. “hah- i’ll call you whatever i want since you’re underneath me pretty boy.” you tease, reaching a hand in his hair. tousled, snowy tresses tangled between your fingers as you kept riding his face, seeing that permanent pouty glower on satoru’s sheeny lips.

“pft,” he scoffs, iced pupils rolling straight to the back of his cranium before he spits on your cunt. he’s making you even messier—letting you, dampen his chin with a mixture of your treacly essence and his coarse, creamy mess.

the way satoru’s dewy cum dribbled between your thighs had him grunt against your folds, and he’s even creeping a hand toward his throbbing cock to calm himself. you hovered over his face alone had him turned on.

“fuuuck, keep ridin’ my face like that then, yeah,” satoru huffs breathlessly, a sweaty open palm starting to give his shaft a few solid pumps. from the tannish-pink sides, his dick’s just tearing away with pathetic tears of cum. he’s smokily groaning repeatedly once he’s touching himself at the taste of you - the mere thought of you, and it only makes his tongue flick against your pussy faster..

you’re whimpering as your poor thighs continued to quiver, and the grip on satoru’s ruffled hair never loosened. in fact, it tightens—and you’re grinding your hips against his face at a much more sloppy speed. “hng- such a nasty girl with a.. hah- even nastier pussy,” satoru murmurs faintly against your weeping slit, your constant moving making his words sound muffled. he’s trying to keep up his haughty persona but it fails immediately the second he feels himself preparing to cum … again.

you knew it too - because satoru whimpers, watching doe-eyed as you suddenly got up, plopping your dripping cunt right back down against the pearly tip of his cock. “ ‘toru baby, ngh- you should finish inside,” and he’s just so impatient. the swollen head of satoru’s shaft was a claret red and it turned even redder the more you aligned his tip against the opening of your slobbering folds. in response—your pussy spits out cute, wet pop sounds at the unstable movements of you trying to tease him even further. “mngh- fill me up again.”

“w- when you ask like that, ‘m gonna wanna propose to you next,” he pouts, the entire lower half of his body growing limp. he’s so tender - so hot, and it was like your pussy had him on a leash. satoru groans, wrapping a shaky hand around his lanky cock before swallowing thickly. “fuck, f- fuck, better… hah- take every drop then, princess. take it all like a good- ngh!”

before satoru could even attempt to finish his sentence—he’s cut off by the wet, sticky sounds that are currently occurring between your legs. glancing down with blurred, merely crossed peripherals, he’s slowly leaking from his strawberry-colored frenulum.

satoru’s blushing cockhead unhurriedly disappears its way between the slick of your flaps as he cums - hard.

thin, streaky ropes hotly ooze inside of you as you hover over his shuddering body, hearing his breathing patterns rapidly pick up. “god- aren’t you just a pretty th- fuck!”

satoru gets interrupted once you started to bounce your hips—damn near giving him a heart attack as he’s still cumming deep inside you. it’s runny, gluey ribbons that flood inside of you to where your cute thighs couldn’t help but quake over his legs. “mgh- keep fillin’ me up, ‘toru,” you’d whine, sliding your hands up his bare, glistening chest. wide, shimmery blue eyes stare into your eyes before he’s whining, feeling the sharp power of your pussy raw.

he always thought he was the strongest - but apparently, that wasn’t the case ‘cause your cunt had him entirely beat.

“mhm-” you’d cooingly hum, leaning your body up close and personal, stealing a kiss on his twitching, crimsoned lips. “c’mon, satoru. don’t s- stop cumming inside-” you’d whine, the slapping rough weight of your wobbly hips making his cerulean-pretty eyes roll fully back.

he’s stuffing you full - popping in nothing more than a thick, miry load before he melts at your touch. your hand wraps around his neck before you kiss near his chin, huffing breathlessly against his jaw. “can you be a good boy for me ‘n do that?”

gulping, satoru’s scarred hands grab at the fat globes of your rotating ass before he eagerly nods. “y- yes,” and while he’s still pouring in a fresh, hot batch of cum inside you, satoru whimpers once your lips sharply crash against his. “i’ll be your good boy, h- heh-”

✩ ˛˚ . SUGURU GETO.

“all of you, eyes on her ‘n only her,” geto throatily grumbles, one hand permanently glued to the left side of your waist.

darkened eyes scan the room to see his followers silently watching - bowing before their feared leader and his precious, favorite pet..

you told geto many months ago that you always had a fantasy of him fucking you in front of his cult, and now - he was more than happy to make your filthy ‘lil wish come true. you were honestly surprised he even remembered. but oh, he did, and he made sure that all eyes were on you, especially his other favorite ‘girl’ he’d like to occasionally mention that was located right between the arc of your legs.

“hng- fuck,” you’d moan, feeling the silky cloth of his cottony robe bristle against your skin. you’re straddling him with your back turned, and your bare cunt’s just slobbering all over his cherry-red tip. everyone was just gawking at you intently, remaining quiet as your sweet carnal sounds echoed through the thin walls of the building.

“wet girl,” he lowly purrs - his tone dripping with lecherous desire. you’re feeling every immense stretch, nearly drooling from the corners of your mouth once you felt the cult leader’s scarred hands lift your teetering hips. “mngh- good girl, show ‘em how loud this pussy can get for me,” and geto’s thumbing a digit down your dripping nub.

inch after inch - you’re nearly choking on your breaths before feeling his free hand wrap around your throat. you’re moaning, leaning back against his chest as your ass noisily slams into his chiseled pelvis. geto groans instantly, tickling the bare of your exposed shoulder with the ends of his trimmed, black strands. “fuuuck- s’ big, sugu-” you’d mewl out, his thick cock eliciting all types of salaciously, harmonious sounds from your mouth and between your thighs.

the grip you had on him made him groan, rubbing a thumb lovingly against the middle part of your throat. in a way - it’s most soothing. geto’s thumb swirls in circles—just like how your hips were moving, ‘round and ‘round until your pussy’s dizzy. his followers continue to stare at the ribald scene in front of them, a few appalled gasps leaving some mouths.

“she’s greedy today, no?” he breathes, turning your chin lightly to face in front of him. the same thumb swiftly swipes over an incoming string of saliva that was preparing to drip down the crack of your lips before he snickers. “mgh- you’re gettin’ even wetter from this, aren’t cha, sweetheart? right in front of my pests, this turns you on, hm?”

“y- yesss,” you’d whimper with a desperate nod, your pathetic words sounding more dragged out as his cock continued to plow into your slick core. while geto sat on his notorious chair, you’re on top—working your rocky hips after each barbaric, wet bounce. he feels you start to pivot, and his shaft meanly pounds a single thrust near your gummy g-spot.

“sugu!” you’d shriek out, the sudden belting note making your dry throat turn even drier. you swallowed, pausing between strained breaths as your ass continued to move. “right there- pleaseplease, right fuckin’ there.”

“dirty fuckin’ mouth you have, girl,” geto snarls, bringing a wet kiss toward the side of your cheek. you’re whimpering, inaudible words cutely forming into pure gibberish before his tip starts to hit your g-spot again. this time though - it’s intentional, and he’s showering your pulsating spot with a bundle of wet smooches.

ruinously, his cock pummels its way through your insides as your thighs slapped against his. you’re so stupid from geto’s dick that you didn’t even care about the little audience in front of you both. not only that - but you forgot that they were even there..

if he kept hitting you there - you were sure you were gonna cum, not just cum but cum hard too.

and so was geto, because even though you weren’t even looking at him, you could almost hear his jaw clenching, every muscle in his mandible tensing. “hah- gettin’ close, are we?” and his voice starting to turn shaky. he overestimated your cunt — mistake one.

you’re putting all of your weight into your buckled knees as your ass threw itself around in a hypnotic circle. you’re sucking in all girthy inches, his fleshy crown trying to desperately live inside of your warm, welcoming pussy. you ferociously nod your head, softened whiny ‘mmmh’ ‘s leaving your lips before he spanks your wet, full entrance. “sorry, pretty girl. ‘m gonna need to hear ya, ‘n i’m not talkin’ about her right now.”

“ ‘m gonna.. gonna cum, suguru- ‘m gonna cummm,” you swallowed, bringing a shaky, clammy hand toward his meaty thigh for leverage. geto’s right with you, his high quickly approaching and he’d poking his tongue inside of his cheek. your hips were just brutal - and the mental image of him finishing inside of you for once had him grunting against your ear. “hah- inside, inside sugu please.”

“ugh- take it then,” he grumbles, both hands grabbing onto your thighs now. you’re rocking against his lap - vigorous slam after slam nearly giving you whiplash before his swollen head’s just attacking your g-spot with even sloppier precise hits. it’s so wet, and you’re panting—feeling his cold, parted lips attack the side of your neck with kisses. “show these insects how much of me you can take inside this pretty, hungry cunt- fuck-”

long, stringy ribbons of cum shoot inside you merely seconds later as your legs cutely collapse on top of him. geto’s robe continued to prick against your skin as you wriggled against his lap, feeling him dump such a hot batch of cum inside of you. stubby, callused fingertips curl around your throat again as you whimper, feeling his free hand spank your pussy.

“atta girl. saved so much for you, s- soooo much,” he stammers, his flushed tip stiffly poking near your clit. he spills out a lot, and your legs quaked as your droopy, half-open eyes focused back toward his followers.

wide-eyed ‘n all - not a single peep came from them, and they continued to bow their heads while some sat on their knees obediently, witnessing their leader with his favorite cum-dump of a pet.

“s- suguuu-” you gasped, your eyes rolling once he smears a thumb down your sopping slit, sticky webs of cum gluing against his plump digit. geto’s cock was so big, but his load spilling inside you was even bigger. your stuffed insides hugged around him tight, and he’s sucking his teeth whilst still overflowing your pussy with more buttery ropes.

“good … little thing,” geto hums darkly - entirely out of breath. moving a few sticky, black tresses from the temple of his forehead. as you’re still straddling him with your back facing his chest, geto gifts your spewing wet folds with yet another spank, and his hooded eyes glance toward his obedient audience. “quite the show you put on,” and geto steadies your hips with both roughly-textured hands, making you sit upright on his fat cock before purring seductively into your ear.

“heh- but don’t get tired of me now, sweetheart,” you whined, feeling him pat your squelching cunt.

“think this pretty ‘lil cunt could use a bit more training,” and geto’s half-lidded eyes glance toward his followers, bringing a wet kiss toward your cheek. “mwah- this is just the beginning, sweetheart.”

✩ ˛˚ . NANAMI KENTO.

the first time nanami goes in raw - he gets addicted instantly.

one minute he’s showering your tummy with a trail of kisses and the next - he’s got you in a beloved mating press. nanami gets feral, and the moment he’s feeling you slickly trying to barrel all huge nth inches of his cock, that’s it.

“ugh- so warm for me,” he grumbled, staring at your body that’s oh-so stiff. your legs were raised from each side as his shaft’s just stuffed inside of your overflowed pussy. it’s dribbling with gooey, white masses of cum and you felt like you were about to burst any minute.

literally and physically.

nanami slows himself down, biting his lip once he feels the sludgy rawness of your perspiring heat stick against his weighty base.

“mng- fuck, careful now.. if i stay in this position any longer, i.. hah- might just get you pregnant, honey.”

“do ittt,” the risqué words quickly spilled from your lips as your fingernails dragged a path down the center of his back. nanami’s muscles bulged, and he couldn’t help but sloppily rock his way into your core with just a single jerk of his hips.

you wanted it - hell, you wanted him.

you wanted nanami to fill you to the very brim until he’s entirely milked out—until he’s got no more to feed your poor, starving cunt. the more he huskily rambled to you about just loving to see you, his pretty ‘lil housewife with a round, plump tummy, the more you started to whine against the soft, pointed shell of his ear.

“hic- ‘ken, do it. fuck me, fill me up pleaaase,” and he shudders, feeling the pad of your thumb playfully running a straight line down his fading undercut. nanami’s cock was just so thick ‘n fat, and he doesn’t even have to move to feel you already clenching internally.

“ngh- so hot inside, goddd-” nanami stammers, and while he’s pounding into you raw - he’s still partially clothed. his baggy slacks were lazily pulled down, hitting near his ankles with his button-up tickling against your skin.

as he’s fucking you deep, churning your gummy insides flawlessly like how one would churn butter, you lightly give his checkered tie a cute pull. sweating profusely on his forehead, nanami leans in—thinking he’s about to kiss you, but instead - his lips clumsily land against your nose. “mng- oh, sweetheart. you know how to.. hah- ruin me. ‘m gonna fill you up so good, ugh-”

“c’mon, kento,” you’d whimper, giving his tie an even tighter pull. without question—there was no denying that your pussy had him on a leash. a gripping hold that even left him speechless, damn near drooling.

nanami uses two veiny hands to shove your knees toward the center of your breasts. his balls never felt so full - they’re well rounded and swollen, slickly covered with dewdrops of pre-cum and your slick as he continued to pounce back ‘n forth against your body. “haah- hold me, hold me.. hic- sweethe- fuck.”

you cup his face with both hands, tenderly stroking two thumbs down each side of his hollowed sucked-in cheeks. nanami’s eyes were a dirty color of lust, and he was even whimpering at your touch. it’s quiet - but you heard it, and he’s giving your pussy its last final thrusts before he’s reached his racy peak.

he’s cumming hard, and as he sprays a slimy, gloppy load inside of you, his brain short-circuits. your pussy’s got him glitching literally - and nanami growls out a small, ‘ohhh fuckk’ once he starts to hear the mess ooze inside of you rawly.

“ngh- ‘ken,” you moan, feeling your walls involuntarily close up around you. he’s stuffed you full, and nanami’s hips shimmy slightly before his mushroomy tip pushes his dribbling cum even further inside of you - stopping it from leaking out.

he shushes you with his lips, finally—running his tongue against yours as his body’s careful not the crush you. shared, labored moans fall into each other’s mouths and you wrapped your arms around nanami’s torso. “f- fuck, that’s it- good,” you warbled between kisses, your legs still shoved to the front of your chest. nanami’s nearly frozen - yet he’s still pumping you full of sticky, viscous cum that starts to nastily pour between the pried cracks of your legs.

“s.. so messy, you … made me a messy husband,” nanami grunts, his voice so shaky that it gradually turns into a whimper. you’re chasing breaths right with him, and as your legs squeezed around his waist, you rubbed your ankle around his back in taunting circles. “ugh- you.. hah- really know how to ruin me, sweetheart.”

“kento-” you pouted, still hearing the wet, squelching sounds of him pumping such thick, sappy amounts of cum inside of you. nanami rubs the band of his wedding ring up and down the bare skin of your tummy, feeling you impatiently writhe underneath him. “don’t- don’t stop, fill me up again.”

nanami dryly chuckles—bringing a tender kiss toward the edge of your lips before delicately pulling his aching flaccid cock out. it’s a dark shade of coral-red from the very tip, and his frenulum felt like it was on fire.

tiny remnants of cum continued to spit out down the veiny sides before he bedaubs the head against your sticky pussy. pop after pop and he grunts, staying silent for a moment to hear the mess you made him create. “heh- my wife’s just never satisfied, hm?”

as he’s still gently thwacking the head of his flushed, wet cock against your slobbering folds, nanami starts to align himself back in. you’re clinging onto his tense shoulders, mewling out pathetic sobs of his name before preparing for that same, fat stretch.

“mngh- open up for me again then- that’s it, gooood- good girl,” nanami whispers hoarsely against your neck, kissing down your jugular. “you’re gonna make me the happiest daddy, sweetheart,” and you moaned, hearing the familiar plap of his shaft sliding its way inside of you once more.

as he’s gradually fucking his slippery, hot cum back inside of you after each raw thrust—nanami pushes one of your knees back up toward your chest before kissing the bridge of your nose.

“ ‘n i’m gonna make you the… hah- prettiest mommy, all for me.”

✩ ˛˚ . CHOSO KAMO.

“mgh- baby, your pussy’s gonna fuckin’ melt my dick,” choso groans, surprising the left side of your jawline with open-mouthed, sultry kisses.

it’s sticky, and he whines once the tip of his cock’s just crying against your cute pulsating nub. its pulses were almost akin to heartbeats, each thump! more dramatic than the next.

it feels like forever - time steadies, holding still as if it was taunting choso and he moans against your neck.

he hears the wet biiiiig stretch of your pussy once he’s wetly inserting himself inside. you’re holding his shaft hostage practically as your arms wrap around him. “ngh- so f- fuckin’ big, ‘cho,” you’d hum, pressing hot lips to kiss away his quivering chastened pout. “hah- ‘s like with the condom off you’re even bigger.”

“really?” choso paws a handful of your ass, eyelids trying oh-so-hard to not close themselves shut.

he looked so pretty like this - already pronounced cunt-drunk and you weren’t even riding him for that long. ridden, gripping skin pierces against each other all at once and it’s got every one of choso’s senses heightened. “heh- ‘m glad you think so,” he hiccups, growing a bit of a big head.

as he’s fully plugged in with every thick inch, choso brings both hands toward the edges of your ass before you heard a loud smack. it stings for just a millisecond and you let off a gasp before you’re starting to bounce.

“god, you’re so h- hot,” choso draws in various husky breaths, sucking his teeth at the brutal adequate force of both hips leisurely clashing. “mngh- ride my dick, baby. make me feel fuckin’ good. show me.. hah- what those pretty hips are made for-”

“choso, spank me again,” you’d cutely whimper, the speed of your hips instantly picking up. all of your gummed barriers clenched around the entirety of his length and you nip a soft nibble near his chin. “hng- i like it when you act nasty.”

“do you?” choso sheepishly grins - his lopsided smile haltingly morphing into a smirk. he’s still got big, callused hands that grabbed at your rotating ass before he spanks it… again.

the direct smack against your rear makes you moan and that made choso’s dick twitch from the inside. you felt it too, ‘cause your legs ended up nearly giving out at that exact moment.

“f- fuckk, ‘m startin’ to see why you wanted for us to try goin’ raw,” and as the lust-filled thrusts continue to create plop sounds in the background, choso starts to bounce his thigh to make his hits hit even more rigorously inside of you. “feels soooo hah- good. hips gonna k- kill me, oh- shit.”

each time your thighs loudly slap against choso’s, he’s spanking your ass harder. its a brief sting, and he could hear your cute ‘lil breaths picking up the more you moved. he’s thick - stretching you out from the inside after each, sloppy thrust and you’re just whimpering into his neck.

“ ‘cho- chosoooo~” you’d whine, running the sticky tip of your tongue all around the edge of his neck. both clamoring bodies continued to move and sync, and that’s when he’s starting to grab your hips, making you slam your cunt up ‘n down his cock at a much more hastened pace.

you feel him everywhere—tickling your pulsating g-spot with his tip before surprising it with wet kisses. “fuck- fuuuck, ‘m gonna cummm- ‘m gonna fill you.. hah- right up,” and he pauses, bringing raw-bitten lips toward the edge of your chin. “c.. can i, baby?”

“mhm-” you instantly replied, gasping as choso’s scarred, thick hands resumed to guide your ass. he’s helping you bounce on his cock, giving a bit of your jouncing flesh a playful squeeze. your cunt’s just greedy - swallowing every inch while dampening the entirety of his cock with your syrupy slick. “inside ‘cho- you can.. cum inside-”

“ugh- meltin’ me so good, fuckk-” he snarls, burly arm wrapping around your torso. as weak as your thighs were, you continued to swerve ‘n jolt your bestial hips against choso’s lap. he’s covered with sweat too, and he’s feeling his tip preparing to shoot a hot, sticky load right inside of you raw. choso’s fantasized about this exact scenario maybe more than once or twice.

fuck- just being able to stuff you full, feed your sloppy, greedy cunt with his seed - a dream.

a dream that was very much about to cum true..

because barely seconds passed before choso’s shooting blanks - white, velvety blanks that quickly started to pour inside of your pussy. it’s feeling so hot - and his arms remain wrapped around you, making sure every drop slithers inside. you’re gasping, wriggling a bit on his lap as you feel him giving you such a stuffing load. it's so much that you were sure a bit of cum sprayed a slimy path towards your womb.

“hngh-” choso gutturally groans against your neck, not once releasing his grip around your torso. he’s holding you tight while ribbony ropes continued to flood your cunt. his capped tip remains stilled between your salivating folds before he gasps. “mngh- baby, took it so good.” choso rasps, his voice so low it sounded like a mere grumble.

your legs remained wrapped ‘round his waist like a ribbon on a present before you sighed. it’s a content sigh, and as he’s filled you to the very brim with a gooey, thick load, you brought quivering, wet lips up to his. choso’s struggling to breathe let alone blink, and his lips fail to hit against yours. instead, they land near your nose and he moans.

“f- fuck, ‘m still…. hah- cumming-” choso grunts against your lips, and you let off a soft squeak once choso made you turn your body around.

as he’s still sloppily shoved inside of you with globules of milky, white cum dribbling from your cracked inner thighs—choso makes your back face him. through shaky, unsteady breaths of his own, he’s using two broad arms to slowly lift your legs. “c- choso-” you’d whine, leaning back against his bare chest once he’s locking his arms underneath your thighs.

choso grumbles, nipping a few stolen kisses near your nape before huffing out a feral breath. “ngh-c’mon, baby. ‘m not done fillin’ you up just yet,” and you gulped, feeling a big hand of his delicately press down on your tummy.

“big stretch f- for choso, c’mon-” and you moaned, feeling him brush thick fingers against your dripping cunt that’s still overly sensitive. right at his touch, you end up gushing out a sloshing wet sound, and choso snickers against your ear.

“hah- that’s it- let me hear her talk dirty to me, baby,” and he spanks your pussy, earning a cute gasp from you before rubbing eager circles around your folds - getting loud, sloshing responses from your lower lips instead of your top ones. “i’m listening-”

✩ ˛˚ . TOJI FUSHIGURO.

with a loud, abrupt ‘snap’ toji’s condom ended up breaking mid-thrust and he barely even flinches.

“heh, told ya i was a big boy. shit never fits on me, mama,” toji guffaws, his hips stiffening before he holds your hips upright. “mhm. loooook at her jus’ swallowin’ fuckin’ nothin,” toji pulls out, rubbing a cold thumb ‘round your twitching cunt. his digit’s immediately soaked with your lush slick that’s pouring riiiiight down between your sleek folds. “pretty pussy like this deserves more than a rubber, no?”

“toji- forget the rubber .. hah- just fuck me,” you’d moan out a desperate plea, feeling toji’s coarse gaze despite how you weren’t even facing him.

you were on all fours - prettily hunched over, ass up with your face smushed against one of toji’s pillows. you didn’t care anymore - you needed more, and the more he smeared his thumb around your aching clit, the more you started to grow impatient. “mmgh- you can . . fuck me raw, toji.”

“before i do that, first—let’s get that arch back up, lazy girl,” toji spanks your ass, earning a sweet ‘oooh’ from your trembly, spit-glossed lips.

such sass.

“yeaaah, toji’s gotcha. good girl, fuckin’ bend for me,” he continued, staring as you gave him the arch he wanted. you’re whining impatiently, bawling up a fist as you feel his maroon-shaded tip slap slap slap its way against your the outer part of your pussy.

one smack, two smack, three smack..

toji looooves more than anything to tease you before ramming straight into your sopping core. he’s got the hips of a machine, and you’re clinging onto the bed with your mouth dangling open, eyes goofily crossed. “ngh- fuck!” you’d squeal, hearing toji’s raspy groans from behind you. he’s shamelessly balls deep, driving into your core as the crown of his knees bury into the plush mattress. “fuck me, fuck meee toji, f-”

“ah, no talkin’ when she’s the star right now, baby,” toji gives the left cheek of your ass another cruel spank. his cock’s vehemently throbbing inside of you with all kinds of prominent veins running down each thick side.

“fuck- only back talk i wanna hear is from this chatterbox of a fuckin’ cunt,” toji groans, sneaking a hand between your thighs before rubbing circles ‘round ‘n ‘round. you let off an airy gasp, hearing the wet sounds sing away from between your thighs. as toji’s still drilling into you with all types of primal vigor, that’s when he starts to feel the raw feeling.

the feeling of your cunt - its rawness, and how you’re just swallowing him up continuously. toji’s jet-black brows crease into a furrow before you feel his tottering hips turn rickety. “f- fuuck me-” he hisses through clenched, tight teeth—and you could even feel him trying to run away from your sloppy cunt.

your leg wraps around toji’s waist from behind you and you moaned, raising your ass more before the brat in your returns. “mng- don’t run toji, isn’t that what you always tell me, hm?” and toji’s grunting, multiple taut muscles flexing through his dingy white tank. “keep fuckin’ me, hah- right thereeee. keep hittin’ there, ‘m gonna cum, toji. ‘m gonna fuckin’ all on your dick.”

“someone’s feelin’ haah- bratty,” toji grumbles, feelings of euphoria swelling in his chest all at once. it's intense - and the room’s starting to fill up with the scent of straight musk, cheap cologne, and the citrusy aroma of your own. it makes toji pump into you harder, hitting hit rounded tip against that same ‘lil nub that makes you belt out the prettiest wanton moans.

but as he continued to ram his hips hungry hips back ‘n forth into your slippery core, toji’s grunts started to turn into pure melodic whines.

his black brows furrowed in lust with the scarred edges of his lips shifting in a lewd pout. “ugh- fuck me then, slam those fuckin’ pretty hips back against me, girl- shit,” toji growls, his gruff breaths turning labored after each ramming thrust. his cock’s angry, its tip an even more furious red as it lodged in and out of your wet pussy. every time the curve of his dick stretches its way through your insides - you’re left utterly dumbfounded every time.

he’s hearing the cute squelches your folds make in between hits and he’s groaning, reaching a bulky arm to hold onto the headboard. “mmh- give it to me then, baby girl. hngh- take this dick, take it. f- fuck-”

the big stretch of toji’s cock kissing near your convulsing g-spot leaves you cross-eyed. he’s hitting you deep in all the right angles ‘n crevices, and you end up gushing right as he’s finally dumping a frothy, mushy load inside of you. it spits inside of you and you’re whimpering, spraying your slickness on his veiny dick before slumping your face into the pillow.

“f- fuck, oh- fuck,” toji moans, watching as your hips cutely fall forward. your ass was raised in the air and you were whimpering, hearing the sloshing wetness of his cock slowly drag its way out of your pussy. with a wet plap, he stares as his cum flows down the valley of your dripping slit. toji’s gruffly panting, bringing a fat thumb to smear down the cascading mess before putting it toward his lips.

“t- tooooji- again.”

“patience, ‘lil girl-” he grunts, licking the tip of his thumb. toji’s body shudders as he’s still feeling himself succumb to his awaited end—glancing at your sopping, stuffed pussy that’s just wetly soaking the satiny sheets with his cum.

as you tried to suppress an incoming whine, toji let off an ‘ugh’ once you ended up sitting up, flipping him over before lightly pushing him back. with a sheepish sly expression, toji’s sharpened abs curl forward before clenching at the touch of your fingertips running down his chest. “heh- oh? pinning me down, baby? you’ll hafta- f- fuck-”

cutting him off, you straddled his lap—sneaking a hand toward his leaking cock before giving it a few solid pumps. with it now being flaccid, your thumb runs along a prominent vein that strikes down the skin.

humming, that’s when you decided to give toji’s neck one long, hard suuuck. toji slips off an accidental whimper at your touch, the hotness of your lips making his breath in his throat hitch before you start to stroke his cock.

“are you gonna be a good boy ‘n cum again for me, toji?”

“you wish-”

you stop stroking his aching cock mid-thrust and toji ends up pouting. he’s huffing harshly, already missing your touch before his verdant eyes were almost pleading for you to continue. a big hand grabs onto your wrist and he groans, trying desperately to wrap your fingers around his weighty cock.

“alrigh’ fine.. just.. don’t stop touching me baby, please-”

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moechies · 8 months ago

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grimy gojo who films his first time with you :( cw non-consent recording on both parties

his phone propped up somewhere completely oblivious, either behind a prop pile of clothes or behind a picture frame on the tall shelf against his wall.

he lays you down on his mattress so gently, lips locking with yours as he sneaks a glance at the camera filming every movement, and every single noise. he peeks a smile before you notice, quickly reverting his attention back onto you before you get suspicious.

whispers sweet nothings into your ear, making you squirm knowing that he’ll go back onto the tape later just to jerk one out to your cute face again. watches you in real time getting flustered by the kisses he’s pressing all over your face, simultaneously tugging off your light pink panties before stuffing them in his pocket. ew gojo :(

gross boy asks if your ready, tossing your pretty legs over his shoulder, having his camera pick up every detail about your soft body below him.

your chubby tits, pretty manicured nails pressed against them, your soft tummy and chubby thighs, and your pretty feet covered in frilly laced socks.

he’s obsessed with the way your socks make you look like such a sweet innocent girl, and going back on the tape makes him realize just how filthy he is getting off to the sight of your cute legs over his shoulder, watching your legs bump back and forth with a view of his fit back as he pumps into your fat cunt relentlessly.

always has the volume on max when he’s watching your first and only tape, listening intently to your mewls of his name and sweet asks for a small kiss.

“kiss, please, toru ? wan’ a kiss!”

“mhm baby, y’want a kiss?”

he teases, but of course he fulfills your wish. what type of man would he be if he didn’t?

he doesn’t even mind when you turn away to not have to bare the embarrassment of looking into him while he fucks you senseless, all because he knows it’s all caught on camera. watches as your expressions grow from pained to pleasure, face completely flushed and eyes scrunched as you try your hardest not to cum early to impress the man. how cute.

and finally he gets to watch the way your eyes roll to the back of your head when you cum on his cock, a sweet layer of heavy slick coating him and his balls all over. watches your tummy inflate when he finally cums in that tight cunt if yours, and watches you desperately try to cover yourself and your face out of embarrassment when it starts leaking out of your sore pussy.

what he doesn’t know about is your little phone under his pillow, the one you had been laying on doing the same, recording an audio of his sweet tender coddles and heavy pants, his moans and cries of your name. the bed creaking gently back and forth as his pace grows, creaks growing louder. the recording you’d turn to as soon as he dropped you back home, and fiddle your clit and little pussy to while lewdly moaning his name.

what perverts :(

#jjk #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo jjk #gojo smut #jjk gojo #gojo satoru smut #gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #jujutsu gojo #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #drabbles ⋆⑅˚₊

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fakebwitch · 3 months ago

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reader being obsessed with rafe’s biceps and he wants to please her

·········⋆༺𓆩❀𓆪༻⋆·········

rafe is obviously aware of how fitnessed and perfect his body is, and he also knows how obsessed you are. when you two fuck your hands are always somehow on his body, from when you ride him, holding yourself on his muscular legs or placing your hands on his chest, or when y’all are doing missionary, your nails dig into the skin of his back as he thrust hard inside you or tighten around his biceps.

speaking of biceps, they were your favorite thing. I mean, you loved every single thing about his body, his back, his shoulders, his abs, his thigh but biceps would do it for you everytime. you would drool every time you see him wearing one of his short-sleeved polo shirts, putting his muscular arm in perfect view, your eyes would carefully observe every single contraction, asking him to open a simple bottle of water or fix something that you had voluntarily broken just to enjoy the sight of his arms at work.

you loved having his strong arms holding you close to him, there was nothing that made you happier when at night, after a long day, his arms wrapped around your figure pulling you towards him, his grip firm as the heat of his body began to expand to yours.

rafe wasn’t stupid, he noticed after a short time your continuous eyes on his biceps, how you somehow tried to always have a hand on them and how you wanted rafe’s arms always around you. he was always ready to tease you about it, you would laugh everytime trying to hide your flushes.

obviously this obsession of yours grows when we talk about sex. having him chocking you while pounding into you, watching at the way his biceps flexed made you clench around his length, or when his fingers were buried inside your tight hole, you would force yourself to keep your eyes open even though all you wanted to do was to throw you head back just to watch the way his arm was contracting at the speed he was using and his veins on full display.

one day he proposed you something that left you in disbelief, not like you have never thought about something like that before but hearing him say it to you was totally different. you had stopped from grinding onto his bulge, looking at him with wide eyes while he just looked at you with his usual cocky smirk, your pussy clenching around nothing just at the idea.

“you’re just so obsessed princess, bet you wouldn’t mind riding it instead of grinding on my dick, would you?” he had proposed to you, his gaze fell down indicating what he was referring to, your hand tight around his biceps. you stared at him for what seemed like hours not knowing what to answer, suddenly you felt like you wanted to disappear. “don’t get shy on me now baby, use your words mhm?” he incited you, his hand moved from your hip to rest on your cheek, slowly rubbing his thumb on the soft skin as you rested your head on it, enjoying his warm touch.

“yeah… i would- i would love that” you answered, you didn’t even know where you had found the courage to accept something so dirty but that you wanted at the same time so much. rafe’s grin widened even more noticing the shyness in your voice, he could feel that you were insecure about it, he was quick to put his lips on yours in a small kiss. “don’t worry baby I got you, just use me like you prefer” he whispered to you a few centimeters from your lips, you bit your lip hearing such words, your most perverse dream was coming true.

“uhh f-fuuck… rafeee” you gasped moving your hips quickly, your head thrown back while you fully enjoyed the pleasure of your clit in contact with his contracted muscle, your moisture scattered all over the area, sliding along the elbow. “I know baby I’m here, keep going” he incited you, he looked at you from below with eyes full of lust groping his cock in the pants, a mess of his own pre cum in his boxer while enjoying the scene of his pretty girl rubbing herself on his biceps.

“i’m gonna- gonna..” your voice broken as you felt yourself getting closer and closer to reaching the peak, your legs began to hurt and your movements slowed down, you felt tears forming at the corners of your eyes worried that you wouldn’t be able to reach your orgasm but rafe was right there, and without you being able to say anything else he put a hand on the back of your thigh, pushing you to continue rubbing yourself on his biceps.

“there you go baby… make a mess all over me”. In no time you reached your orgasm, an almost pornographic moan came out of your lips as your movements stopped abruptly, your cum began to drip on his skin. slimy sounds filled the room while rafe helped you ride your orgasm with some other small push, before you fell in the place next to him, your legs tingled from the effort you had subjected them to.

“that’s it princess, was it good?” he asked you observing your fucked-out expression then moving his gaze to his arm, completely covered with your wetness.

“the best fucking thing ever.”

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #outer banks x reader #x reader #outer banks

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sttoru · 5 months ago

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⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: your boyfriend comes to pick you after a long day at uni. sensing your jealousy about the attention he’s getting from your classmates, he makes it up to you in his own way.

tags. olderbf!gojo x female reader. fluff, tiny bit of angst, suggestive [make out sesh]. age gap — reader above 20, gojo early 30’s. jealousy. reader gets called ‘princess, baby, beautiful.’ not proof read !

satoru’s arrival, as per usual, serves as pure entertainment for many students. it’s not often that they get to see such a tall and handsome man around campus after all.

you patiently stand there, waiting for that said man to come and get you. the increase in giggles and whispers around you can only mean one thing: he’s nearby.

your boyfriend’s car comes to a stop in the distance. satoru steps out of the driver’s seat a second later, one of his hands running through his fluffy, snowy hair.

‘. . damn, he’s fucking hot,’ ‘yep. heard he’s in a relationship though. sucks,’ ‘girl— do i look like i care? need him so baaaaddd.’

it’s infuriating to hear those words while you - his girlfriend - are standing close to them. you decide not to give those girls any attention nor do you try to speak up. it’s not worth the effort.

satoru closes the car door behind him, his hands in the pockets of his slacks while he strolls up to where you’re standing. it’s as if he’s walking down a runway - graceful, confident, every step executed with perfect balance.

he can hear the murmurs from the students around, but he simply does not care. his steady gaze has been fixed on you the moment he spotted your figure from across campus.

“cute,” satoru mutters under his breath with a small smile, blue eyes taking in the sight of you standing there against a wall. the way you’re fiddling with the strap of your bag while pretending not to have noticed him is quite endearing.

you look down at the ground until a pair of black oxfords come into view, stopping right in front of yours. you slowly tilt your head back until you’re face to face with the man himself.

“hey, beautiful,” satoru greets, his voice smooth and slightly deep, a faint smirk playing on his lips. his knuckles brush against your cheek whilst he admires your every feature, acting as if he hasn’t seen you in days.

you nod in response, whispering a small ‘hi’ before your eyes dart around campus again. your bottom lip pushes forward just a tiny bit to form a small pout.

. . and there it is; satoru knows that look in your eyes like the back of his hand. he’s seen that same pout before, along with the hint of jealousy lurking behind your gaze that you try so hard to hide.

he understands why you’re feeling that way.

the other girls on campus, the way they ogle him and whisper, it would make any woman insecure. but to him, there was no need for that. satoru is yours, and he’s made that known to every single soul around you a million times before.

perhaps they need to be reminded once more.

satoru wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you close, his touch gentle and possessive. he can see how you’re trying to act normal, though he knows you way better than that.

the pad of his thumb rubs small circles into your hip as your lover leans in and speaks in a low yet intimate voice that only you get to hear, “oh? look at you, acting all tough with your little pout.”

“tell me. what’s up, princess?” satoru whispers, his breath warm against your ticklish skin. he lowers his head to your face and plants a small kiss on your nose, gaining a mix of delighted yet irritated whispers of the people around you.

“usually you jump right into my arms after seeing me— y’know, like a lil’ bunny,” the white-haired man starts sulking as well, pressing your body flush against his. “where’s my cute ‘n clingy babyyyy?”

satoru’s over-exaggerated whine makes your nose scrunch up, though you can’t deny the truth. he knows you better than you know yourself. he can see right through your attempt to disguise your jealousy, yet you’re still too stubborn to admit anything.

“whatever. come on,” you roll your eyes before grabbing his arm and tugging him forward. you want nothing more than to escape your surroundings. you’re getting tired of the continuous and unwanted attention satoru is getting.

it’s irksome. you know satoru doesn’t give them the attention they so desire - he never will - yet you still feel this pang in your chest whenever you see those girls shamelessly ogling your boyfriend.

satoru, being naturally observant, notices your sudden eagerness to leave campus. he can tell that your jealousy is growing worse because of the other students that keep on eyeing him. while he is used to the attention, he hates seeing it affect you.

the whispers and giggles from the other women are like white noise, insignificant background fodder that barely warranted his notice. you’re all he sees and listens to— no matter what.

your presence, your voice, your body, your soul. . . you’re the only one he cares about. he just wishes you’d realise that.

satoru wordlessly allows himself to be dragged off. his gaze is fixated on the back of your head, a mixture of amusement and worry glinting in those blue eyes of his. he can’t help but feel guilty. even if he didn’t really do anything wrong.

he wants to make it up to you, somehow.

once you reach the car, satoru gently shoos your hand away from the door handle the moment he catches you try to get in yourself. he reaches around you and pulls it open with a soft ‘click’.

satoru then surprises you by kissing your forehead— his free hand coming up to cup the back of your head. his fingers bury themselves in your hair. a subtle smirk tugs at his glossy lips as he senses the envious glares from the other, irrelevant onlookers.

that’s exactly what he’s trying to accomplish. to make it known to the world that he’s your man. he’ll gladly do it over and over again, until all of them finally take the hint.

“ladies first,” satoru gestures, his voice gentle and loving. he pulls back and smiles at you with his dimples showing. you’re slightly taken aback by the smooth gesture before thanking him in a small murmur.

“thank you.”

it’s silent for a good couple seconds after satoru gets into the driver’s seat. he settles his keys into the ignition switch, though doesn’t turn them. instead, he faces you with a small sigh.

your lover already recognises what’s up. you probably won’t talk to him until the jealousy subsides. but that isn’t how he wants to fix this situation— he wants you to communicate with him.

“hey,” satoru tries to get you to look at him. your body is slightly turned away, your eyes looking out of the car window. it’s painfully obvious that you’re upset with him, even when it isn’t specifically his fault.

“don’t hide from me, c’mon,” he chuckles and tries to make you feel better by bringing your hand up to his lips. satoru leaves small kisses on your palm, eyes peering over the rims of his sunglasses to gauge your reaction.

you still don’t turn to face him. you’re too caught up in your own feelings— too stubborn to talk about the jealousy and insecurities that are bugging you. you know it’s unfair to your partner, but you currently can’t fix your own emotions.

sensing your insistent reluctance to face him, satoru places his hand gently under your chin. his fingers curl around your jaw and gently guide your gaze to meet his. the sight of your downcast expression - plagued with insecurity - tugs on his heartstrings.

“oh, my sweet little baby,” the white-haired man sighs once more.

without another word, the gap between you quickly closes as satoru leans in, his lips meeting yours in a firm but soft kiss. a soft gasp escapes your lips at the suddenness of his kiss, but the tension in your shoulders slowly starts to dissappear as you melt into his embrace.

the touch of his calloused fingers on your jaw is a wordless command you cannot resist. the kiss is a silent form of reassurance, a way for him to remind you of his feelings for you.

his want and need for you.

satoru can nearly taste the jealousy etched into your initial resistance, which he seeks to silence with his touch. thus, he deepens the kiss with renewed vigor. his free hand cups the back of your head and gently tilts it upwards to gain a better angle.

“mh. sweet,” satoru’s tongue swipes over your bottom lip. he eagerly swallows the faint taste of candy that you had eaten earlier. his tongue delves into your mouth the moment your lips make way, memorising every part of it.

he doesn’t let go of you until you’re both breathless. the sorcerer pulls back, though keeps the distance between your lips at a minimum. his cheeks are painted a soft pink, eyes half lidded and lips even glossier with your saliva now coating them.

“haah— fuck,” satoru catches his breath while his free hand rubs up and down your waist. he resists the urge to pull you into his lap and ravage you right then and there. he’ll leave that for when you’re home.

his gaze is on your parted lips once more. he simply cannot hold himself back from leaning in. his body moves closer to yours, caging you in between him and the passenger seat.

“i’m all yours,” satoru murmurs against your soft lips. he cups your face as he places a quick peck on your mouth. “only yours,” another chaste kiss causes your smile to find its way back onto your face. “don’t you forget,” and a third kiss finally makes you giggle.

your lover hums in satisfaction. he nuzzles his nose against yours, grinning widely as he successfully managed to coax the jealousy away— to gain his beautiful, happy girlfriend back. “there she is,” satoru coos and squeezes your cheeks together.

you huff at the feeling of your lips forced into a deformed ‘o’ shape, yet the bright smile tugging at your lips doesn’t disappear. “sorry for acting so childish,” you apologise for your own behavior. if it wasn’t for satoru taking the initiative to make it up to you, you would have given him the silent treatment.

the white-haired man shakes his head. he ruffles your hair affectionately while his lips settle on your cheek. he tenderly nibbles on the plush flesh, “no need to apologise. ‘t was cute,” he replies in a muffled voice.

satoru pulls back and his thumb brushes over the subtle mark that his teeth left on your skin. “besides,” he pinches your cheek before cocking his head to the right. your eyes follow the direction he’s looking at— which is your car window.

“i think everyone finally realised that y’re the one ‘n only girl for me.”

your heart drops as you only then remember that satoru’s car windows aren’t tinted. that means that everyone on campus probably has seen the little make out session you had with your boyfriend just now.

your eyes quickly dart around the crowded area. the way your fellow students are glancing at you - some with envy and others with embarrassment - tells you more than enough. . .

you clear your throat and try to hide your face with the sleeves of your top. you don’t know how you’re going back to university after today without facing the humiliating consequences of your (satoru’s) actions.

your shameless boyfriend sits there and grins from ear to ear, proud of his accomplishment and oblivious to your embarrassed state until you speak up again;

“. . satoru, please drive away as fast as you can.”

#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x you #gojo x you #jjk x y/n #gojo x y/n #jjk fluff #gojo fluff #gojo satoru fluff #jjk fanfic #gojo fanfic

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kurooh · 15 days ago

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★ MAKE HER TAPOUT ! — JUJUTSU KAISEN

⊹₊˚. featuring gojo satoru, geto suguru, nanami kento, ino takuma, fushiguro toji, & kamo choso fucking you till one of you gives out, or not!

warnings: 18+ content — mdni, fem! reader, creampies, gentle choking, cunnilingus, facesitting, backshots, overstimulation, jet sex, dirty talk, talking him thru it (ino), brief edging, filming.

xoxo, juno: SHES BACKKK 😝

GOJO SATORU # neither, it’s a competition

“aw, sweetheart,” satoru reaches up to thumb away an involuntary tear from your cheek, “you cryin’?”

“no,” you sniffle, and the shake of your voice betrays you. “o-of course not, satoru.”

mirth sparkles in his diamond blue eyes and he hums contentedly, as if he’s pretending to believe you. but of course he is—right now, he has to.

god, you were dumb enough to challenge him once he’d riled you up, and now you’re paying the price. a persistent burn courses through the muscles of your thighs, the exhaustion more than palpable now that you’ve been bouncing on his dick for so long. a messy puddle of cum has pooled around the base of his cock and sticks to your skin each time you sink down, serving as a constant reminder of how long it’s been.

normally, satoru would laugh in your face, then help you fuck him, but he’s choosing to be quiet because seeing you struggle is even more entertaining.

“you don’t have to lie, baby,” he squeezes your hips, allowing his eyes to trace the curves and slopes of your body, to commit them to his long term memory. “y’know, i love watching you ride me. it’s just . . oh, never mind.”

aggressively, you wipe the sweat from your forehead and glare down at him with dewy eyes. even when you’re crumbling into pieces, you manage to remain angry at him. “say it, satoru.”

an irritating smile splits across his face and he bounces his hips up just as you move down, just to punch a gasp out of your lungs. “‘s just that you were so fast earlier, now it seems like you’re struggling after all that talk.”

his cheeks are scarlet and growing darker as something triumphant basks him in its glow. you push at his chest and grind on him more insistently, even though the stimulation feels like bolts of electricity on your sensitive clit. “f-fine, is that what you want? for me to prove myself?”

“maybe.”

satoru watches smugly as you up the pace of your hips, repeatedly slamming down on his cock until you’re ready to give up. he grabs at your soft tits, and pinches at your perked nipples meanly, enjoying the way your cunt spasms around him.

a few tears race down your cheeks, and you glare weakly at him, not yet ready to admit defeat.

“my girl’s so pretty,” satoru whispers, harsh as he rolls your tender nipples between his fingers, “doesn’t she know when it’s time to give up?”

“shut up,” you groan, lower lip wobbling pathetically. this struggling is a hundred times better than being pressed into the mattress and fucked senselessly. “just be quiet, toru, stop running your mouth.”

“me? running my mouth?” he sounds taken aback, mouth agape as he regards you with a offended expression that settles across his flushed features. “sweetheart, please. look at you—”

not too firmly, you wrap your hands around his throat. just the sight has a new kind of arousal flaring inside your body, one that makes your clit feel incredibly sensitive after a single grind of it into his pelvis.

“you’re talking too much,” you hum, voice a little singsongy now that the tables have been turned, “can’t you just let me have this?”

satoru quirks an eyebrow, still challenging you despite blushing darker. “y-you’ve got some serious nerve,” he pants, voice coming out weaker than he’d like it to, “just fuckin’ wait—”

now it’s your turn to rile him up. “whatever,” you roll your eyes, the tips of your nails lightly digging into his soft skin. “maybe if you shut your mouth, i could let you go.”

“oh, you know that’ll never happen,” satoru scoffs quickly, almost as if he doesn’t want you to let go just yet. “you just focus on showin’ me what you’re made of. if you can.”

GETO SUGURU # you ‘tap’ out

when you’d invited geto to make a guest cameo on your onlyfans, you didn’t expect him to pull out all the stops to show you off . .

you wail pathetically, each and every one of your limbs feeling like jelly now. the consistent smacks of his hips into your ass bounces off the walls and only adds to the cacophony in the room—suguru has practically destroyed your pussy, his thick cock reducing it into a wet mess that squeezes him involuntarily whenever he makes noise.

“shit,” his chest heaves behind you, and he flicks his bangs away from his eyes to squint at your phone, “don’t cha look so pretty with me inside, sweetheart? come on, don’t make me lift you up.”

weakly, with as much strength as you can muster, you raise your head to blearily look at your phone screen. it’s constantly lighting up with new, colorful messages in the stream and rather generous donations—suguru has helped you pull in hundreds more than a solo live would’ve.

-> kchomo: she’s beautiful!

-> tfushoji: pussy made of steel

“s-sugu, ah—‘m still a little sensitive,” you struggle to gasp out, each deliberate plunge of his cock punching the words out of you. before you look into your reflection to confirm your suspicions, you already know he’s got a smug smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

“that’s even better,” he coos, smacking your ass and slipping his hands beneath your hips. “i’m sure everyone’s, ngh, enjoying the show . . but god, who wouldn’t, especially with a face ‘n body like that?”

suguru groans as he drags you up, positioning you to take his cock at an impossibly deeper angle. you choke on your own drool, hands slipping off of the floor as he moves you however he pleases.

“p-put me down!” you squeak awkwardly, feeling previous loads of cum race down your inner thighs in creamy rivulets, “what’re you—”

“jus’ giving them one last show before it’s time for me to take a bow,” his pierced tongue darts out to lick the sweat glistening at his cupid’s bow. “think you can take it? again?”

it’s more of a challenge rather than a request.

even though you’re spent and dizzy from the scent of sex as well as the feel of it, you’re ready to push through. after all, how long has it been since you’ve ever been fucked this good?

“bring it on, suguru,” and you don’t regret it for a second, until his nails claw at your skin when he steadies himself inside you, gearing up to go out with a bang.

“that’s my girl,” your eyes roll back into your head when he develops a pace right out of the gates, all too eager for someone who’s covered your back in cum more than a few times. “fuck, she’s so good. takes a fuckin’ dick like it’s nobody’s business.”

“‘m supposed to—oh my god, right there—be a pro..professional.”

a professional pornstar? more like a fancier way of saying you’re a hungry slut—but suguru doesn’t give a damn, not when you’re sucking him deeper and throbbing around him, almost synced up with the frantic pounding of his heart.

“riiight there, huh?” he can’t help but tease, voice taking on a mocking tone that seems to make the room burn a few degrees hotter, “is this where you want me, sweetheart? all up in this pretty lil tummy?”

oh, he even splays his fingers across your stomach and digs his heel into the soft spot above your pelvis, a move he’d familiarized himself with after combing through your account. for lack of a well formed verbal response, you nod your head, lips parting around breathless moans and pleas. “fuck yes, sugu. i need it, i need more.”

wispy black hairs cling to his forehead, held in place by sweat instead of their usual tight bun. since he’d stepped into your room and greeted your audience, suguru had become quite disheveled, and the thought of complaining never crossed his mind. no, he’d been too lost in you, his longtime porn crush whose page he checked almost daily—he feels his eyes squeeze shut when you cry out his name so loudly your throat will be sore tomorrow.

“oh god, suguru,” you’re entirely limp in his grasp and powerless to the wet squelches of your cunt as he rearranges your insides, “i think i’m gonna fuckin’ cum soon, ‘m so close.”

-> satojo: HELL YES

-> brattybunnny: the way he holds her >>

-> juiceboxbussy: im crying they’re so hot

ecstasy shoots through your veins like electricity, and suguru’s ability to hold back crumbles into nothing when you start to throw your ass back onto him. it’s something that derails the pace he’s set and the plans he had, but you deserve to be spoiled. honestly, after this live, you’ll definitely be inviting him on more often.

like a boat’s propellers, your feet kick out into the air and your toes curl as the tsunami wave of it all starts to crash over you. “i’m—sugu, ‘m gonna fucking cum!”

“all over my cock, baby,” suguru groans, too lost in your pussy to feel the beads of sweat racing down his temples or the burn of exhaustion settling into his muscles, “let—let me feel it.”

so you do, abruptly creaming all over his cock with an obscene whine that tears out of your throat and blesses the ears of every member of the audience. he’s finally able to let go as you’re coming down, pulsing cunt milking him of every drop he can possibly offer.

suguru nearly collapses on top of you once his empty balls clench, but you’re already struggling to hold yourself up without his help. the donations are much more luxurious now that the audience can get better views of your blissed out face and his matching reddened expression.

“let’s start saying goodbye,” he suggests, wincing as he pulls out of you. the air is hot, but it feels like the arctic outside of you—well, at least he can watch the deluge of cum spill out from between your thighs. you’ll be leaking for hours, and some kind of nasty pride swells in his chest at the thought of it. “honey, c’mon. gotta get cleaned up.”

-> satojo donated $150

-> thukuna donated $200 and said: js busted a nut

-> brattybunnny: i know that dick was good asf

-> juiceboxbussy: girl she’s knocked out 😭

NANAMI KENTO # you tap out

“ken,” you gasp just as the thud of a loaded suitcase resonates through the entire jet. the flight crew’s busy loading up what’s supposed to be an empty corporate jet, while kento’s associates busy themselves with odd tasks he’s doled out to them. “but the seats—”

“can be replaced,” he huffs irritably, not liking the fact that you’re busying yourself with pointless worrying over the seats. “sit down, honey.”

“i know that,” nervously, you glance toward the front of the jet, scanning your surroundings to make sure nobody’s coming in. “i, um, don’t want to make a mess before everyone comes in. i mean, what if you get fired because of it?”

as you ramble, you’re unconsciously pulling away from your seat on his face. kento’s gold wedding band catches the light of the sun as he immediately grabs your thighs, yanking you back where he wants you. his patience is wearing thin and if you don’t sit on his face right now, god help him—he’ll start thinking about devouring you in front of his co-workers.

“ah! kento, i don’t think this is a—” you’re powerless now; with his strong arms locked around your legs, there’s no way you can escape. it’s so risky, so dangerous—but the fear quickly boils into arousal that pools like magma in your belly.

happily suffocating beneath you, kento can’t help but smile when he starts to slurp at your messy cunt. it’s obscene, the noises he makes—smacking his lips like he just can’t get enough, grunting as that familiar sweetness settles on his tongue.

your breath hitches in your throat. “k-kennn, baby, you feel so good—but, oh, we don’t have a lot of time.”

for one painful moment, he lifts you up and stares at you with nothing but hunger in his eyes. “remind me about that one more time,” low and menacing, the sound of his voice makes your pussy squeeze in anticipation. “let me enjoy my meal in peace, honey.”

with that, kento firmly sits you on his face once more, and resumes his impatient lapping. his tongue is both soft and rough, forcing a stream of uncontrollable moans out of you. his nose presses into your clit and makes every sensation hit you harder, leaving you a hot mess atop his face.

“move those hips for me,” he lets out a muffled groan, and his eyes roll back once he feels you comply. desperate as ever, you start to rock your hips into him at an unsteady pace—the shaking and trembling of your body throws you off course.

“ngh, like this?” kento’s ears seem to perk once he detects that current of hesitancy in your voice. it’s so cute, the way you’re seeking his praise; his cock twitches in his pants, buried under layers of fabric.

“just like that, angel,” he gasps for breath before going back in—this time, kento starts to sloppily make out with your pussy. his tongue pushes inside and flicks around, experimentally going deeper while he kisses at your folds.

“oh my god,” the words are a euphoric exclamation, the kind that comes before an earth shattering orgasm—but then it suddenly switches into panic. “oh my god, kento! y-you’ve gotta stop now, your co-workers, they’re—fuck, they just got here!”

kento’s never been one to allow himself to be rushed. your orgasm, you falling apart on his face—it is much more important than his damn co-workers. he’s made you cum fast before and he can do it again. despite your thrashing, he holds you down against him and amps everything up until you start to sob out his name, choking on each syllable.

“they’re gonna get on the plane,” you sniffle, finally accepting your fate. the leather seats will be soaking wet by the time everyone boards, but there’s nothing else you can do but cum. “ken, ‘m really getting close, ngh.”

you nearly lock eyes with one of his coworkers when all your muscles pull taut and bliss bursts out like fireworks in your body. oh, and out of it too—before you can register what’s going on, cum gushes from your pussy and squirts like rain all over his face. of course, kento drinks in every drop, careful not to waste even one.

your jaw’s hanging open as he licks you straight through your high, greedy as ever so he can purposefully make you squeal. kento’s grip on you loosens and he smirks when you scramble off of him, squeezing your thighs together as your body heaves for breath.

“oh, look at that,” he cheerfully glances down at the leather seats, “you didn’t get anything wet, sweetheart.” except for him, of course.

then, out the window. “those aren’t my coworkers, angel. they’re marshals to guide the jet,” slowly, he turns toward you, eyeing your sticky thighs—rather, what’s between them. “no need to quit so soon, hm? tell me what you want.”

INO TAKUMA # he ultimately taps out

takuma’s more than lost in your pussy—he’s too far in to pull out even if he tried. it always happens so fast, too; from the moment you put it in he nearly goes cross-eyed and tries to think of anything that could help him not to cum. it’s so difficult, though, especially when you’re purposefully squeezing down on him and using your oh so soft hands to urge him closer.

he’s done for.

“takuma, are you—ah—are you okay?” before he could realize what was happening, takuma had instinctively begun to jackhammer his hips into yours. “oh my—mmm, you’re fucking me so well.”

“yeah?” he pants out, fingers scrabbling at your ankle to pull you closer, “g-give yourself some credit too, baby, you’re the one taking it like you were made to.”

it’s just how he is, always stuttering back a compliment whenever you talk to him. a breathy chuckle passes through your lips and is immediately followed by a saccharine moan of his name, a sound that echoes in his head and shoots straight to his twitching dick.

“it’s so hard,” he gasps, feeling an inevitable tingle in his nose and behind his eyes, “so hard to keep it together when you’re lookin’ at me like that. shit, babe, you’re gonna kill me.”

each word grows more frantic with every pleased moan that leaves your lips, and takuma’s gotta force himself to focus on something else. he’d been taught to cum with or after you, a rule ingrained into him that even applies when he’s jerking off.

the tinkling of your anklet near his ear serves as the perfect distraction, until it suddenly reminds him of the sexy position he’s fucking you in. with one leg over his shoulder and the other kicking on the bed, takuma’s cock is able to push deep, into spots you can’t even reach with your fingers.

your chest rises and falls rapidly, plump tits jiggling from all the movement, and his face crumples when you shakily press them down. “‘m gonna cum,” you wheeze, arousal burning like fire through your entire body, “you’re suuuch a good boy, takuma, feels so g-good.”

“don’t say that,” takuma’s pleading with you, shaking his head frantically as his cock starts to throb, “don’t, you’re—hah—gonna make me cum too fast.”

“why not at the same time, honey?” your free leg starts to circle around his waist, drawing him in without leaving an opening for him to escape. “c’mon, takuma, ‘m all yours. just f-fill me up.”

this is an offer he can’t refuse, a ball he absolutely cannot drop—the shakes of his head turn into frantic nods as he accepts, scooping you up to pull you just a few inches closer before he falls off the edge. he’s the cutest, trembling above you and babbling out breathless sweet nothings.

you cum hard on his cock, digging your heel into his lower back as you reach your high. it tears through you and leaves you dizzy, shaking like a leaf beneath his strong body. takuma, on the other hand, is so lost in you that he’s tucked his face into your neck and gasps into your skin. everything is inaudible until he lets out a hushed whine, “ngh, mommy.”

“mmm, takuma,” your nails rake down his shoulders, leaving long red stripes he’ll be proud of when he looks into the mirror. “what was that?”

takuma closes his eyes against you and swallows against the shockwaves of bliss as he empties his balls against your cervix. “h-huh, baby?”

FUSHIGURO TOJI # you will tap out

toji’s unstoppable—once you’re on all fours and throwing your ass back on him, don’t expect to be able to walk without being carried for the next two hours.

“oh my god,” you sob out desperately, voice cracking when you try to speak, “t-toji, it’s—ngh, ‘s too much, i can’t—”

“doll, be for real,” toji snickers, almost out of breath. it’s been so long you can’t even feel your legs anymore, and he presses his large hands onto your squirming hips as if he’s trying to indent his touch into you forever. “you can take it. ya wanna cum, don’t cha?”

weakly, you look over your shoulder just in time to catch the wolfish grin on his face and the gleam of his pearly whites. his dark gaze scours your body hungrily, as if he’s on the hunt for something plump to sink his teeth into. sweat glistens on his chest, salt settled in the hard lines of muscle that define his body and showcase his strength. “if ya hadn’t been so fuckin’ impatient, i’d have made you cum earlier. but noooo, jus’ wanted to be all dumb, huh?”

“‘m sorry,” a scream nearly tears from your throat after another agonizing thrust of his powerful hips—his tip hits the soft, cushy spot deep inside of your cunt that always has you seeing stars. “toji! i didn’t mean to be a—fuck—a brat, i only wanted—”

“blah blah blah,” he groans, targeting your sweet spot with sharp, deliberate thrusts that make your eyes roll back into your skull. “jus’ shut up, baby. keep talkin’ and i’ll leave ya high ‘n dry.”

it sounds horrible—horrible enough for you to snap your mouth shut and just focus on taking his cock even though your hips occasionally jerk to the side. toji’s dick is huge, long and thick and unbelievably easy to go dumb on. your fingers twitch in the sheets, aching to scratch the lustful itch that torments your swollen clit; but toji won’t let you, not until he wants you to cum.

a long cry of frustration is released into the bed, and the corners of his lips quirk up in amusement. “aw, is it gettin’ to be too much for ya?” he croons, landing a few stinging smacks on your sore ass, “hope you’re not tapping out before i let ya cum, doll.”

“i said i was sorry,” bitterly, the words rush out. “w-why can’t i fucking cum, toji?”

a low wolf whistle trills out into the air. “because you like edging, nasty girl. did i fuck ya dumb enough for you to forget that ya asked me to do this shit to you, huh?”

that’s right. you had asked him to starve you of the euphoria briefly, but now it’s well past the limit. yes, fushiguro toji was no stranger to pushing limits—transcending physical thresholds to build his body into your favorite temple to worship—so naturally, he’s started to train you to do the same.

“that’s not fair,” you whine, feeling the tears building in your eyes, “haa, i’m so close.”

“don’t you dare,” toji hisses, wrapping your hair around his fist and pulling you back easily. “you can wait one more minute.”

he’s cruel, going so far as to rub your clit with his rough fingers to make you waver as you wait for the tortuous minute to pass. heat burns across every inch of your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake—it’s impossible not to start trembling, teeth chattering as you try to fight off the unescapable high that only seems to move faster toward you.

“please,” you’re arching all over, nearly collapsing onto your stomach, but he’s got you right where he wants you. “h-hurry up, toji, i can’t hold it anymore—shit!”

“three fuckin’ seconds,” he grunts, the clapping of skin against skin growing louder as the seconds fly by. “‘kay, princess. go ahead and cum alllll over this dick f’me.”

you fall apart on his cock before he can even finish his sentence, cunt clenching hard enough to push him out as you fall forward onto the mattress. the smallest amount of cum squirts from your pussy, and that’s when he realizes he’s not quite done with you yet. toji licks his lips as he watches you writhe, settling onto his stomach to torture you all the more.

“toji!” you can’t help but squeal when he grabs hold of your hips and licks at your overly sensitive clit, his dark eyes rolling back when he feels your pussy twitching against his tongue. “ugh, wait, ‘m not ready for—”

“ya wanted to cum so bad, didn’t ya? so lay back for me, doll.”

KAMO CHOSO # can’t stop, won’t stop

“hah, ‘m sorry,” choso borderline sobs when he delivers another sloppy, trembling thrust deep into your cunt. you’re folded up and blurry beneath him, all because he can’t seem to control the onslaught of crystalline tears that pool in his eyes. “baby, it’s—you just feel so g-gooddd.”

rampant apologies run out from his mouth, but they never quite land, always fading into nothing by the time he finishes the sentence. it’s not like he means a single one, especially when he can’t stop rutting his hips into yours, chasing both of your highs.

“don’t—mmm, fuck,” you curse when the tip of choso’s cock kisses your cervix, sending a brief sting of both pain and pleasure through your nerves, “don’t worry about it, cho, ‘s okay.”

tears race down his pink cheeks as more build in his eyes, despite his frantic attempts to blink them away. “i jus’ can’t stop, you—you feel too fucking good.”

a wave of heat crashes through him when he sees your eyes roll back, legs squeezing around his slim waist in order to keep him inside you. you’re as eager for his cum as he is to give it to you, along with a final orgasm of your own. his cock may be purple with overstimulation by now, but how could that possibly matter when you’re on the brink of bursting at the seams all over him?

choso chokes on a moan and fucks you harder, ignoring the annoying beads of sweat that roll down his temples and paste his hair down to his skin. even in the middle of winter, just the two of you are able to heat the house up as easily as a furnace could.

“oh my—fuck,” your voice breaks when you try to speak, looking deliciously dazed when your bleary eyes finally focus on his own, “y-you’re gonna make me cum again, cho, if you keep that pace—”

“fuckin’ give it to me,” choso begs, raspy voice edged with the intensity of ecstasy roaring through him, “jus’ one more time, just one more, we can—we can cum together, baby.”

he’s hiccuping over his words and losing control faster now that your hand’s tangled in his hair and pulling the way he likes. it stings, but he’d be out of his right mind if he asked you to stop—so instead, “harder, please.. ugh, just like that.”

“you’re such a freak,” you pant out, although you sound more than pleased to yank on his hair, “don’t tell me you’ll cum just from this?”

he swallows a lump in his throat and presses a hand to your lower belly, feeling around for himself, and soon enough, he’s able to feel the distinct swell of his cock inside of you.

“only if you cum all over me,” choso’s already delirious, mind full of thoughts of another orgasm even after this one. with you, he’s learned to control his refractory period, shortening it down to a mere two minutes that he tends to spend between your thighs. “please, you have to let me feel you, baby, it’s the only way—!”

“yeah? oh, are you gonna f-fill me up again?” heat floods your cheeks as your voice becomes more breathy, growing weak now that you’re hurtling toward your own high. “oh my god, ‘s like you’re trying to knock me up.”

something wild flashes across his face and takes place as a flickering movie behind his eyes. he has to pause, momentarily caught up in the idea of getting you pregnant. there’s something about the idea of your swollen belly and babies that really ignites a flame in the half curse—perhaps it’s all the more attractive because there’s a good chance he’s infertile.

“oh, fuck,” he sobs desperately, vision blurring with tears and his thoughts, “‘m cumming—ugh, ‘s all yours, angel, ‘m only yours.”

even as choso’s spilling white inside of you, his stuttering hips don’t stop once. now, he’s got a goal and he intends to achieve it, regardless of your cries of sensitivity. “slow down,” you whine, out of breath. “ch-choso, wait a second—it’s too much!”

“it’s not enough,” he grunts, shaking as he bulldozes through his own oversensitivity, “i’m not done, i have to—i need to put a baby in you.”

“i’m sure there’s five, choso, i need to take a second to bre—”

“just one more, i need to make sure. it has to happen, ‘m almost there. hold on for me, angel, please, i just have to make sure.”

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