#Megaminds Secret Files
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Mr. Black, Part 1
Pairing: Tre x Assistant!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader
Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. PWP, cursing, PIV, fingering (fem receiving), dirty talk, praise kink, dumbass reader, degradation kink, power imbalance, Tre is a boss, all consensual.
Summary: Tre is sick and tired of the countless mistakes you make while performing your work duties. You were recently hired and just trying to do your best, but nothing is ever good enough for him.
Word Count: 4,099k
A/N: Listen, Idk what happened. He's barely in 2 mins of the film and it broke my brain. That outfit and that smile was too much for me to handle! Idk how many parts this will be. Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!
Masterlist | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 - Completed
Tagging the usual lovelies, please tell me if you want to be removed: @planetblaque @browngirldominion @notapradagurl7 @honeyoriginalz @blackerthings @sevikasblackgf @henneseyhoe @miyahmaraj
Shit! He was going to kill you. You whined as the numbers swam in your vision. You desperately looked between two invoices, wondering how you were going to solve this before he found out.
Your leg bounced as your nerves unraveled the longer you stared at the documents. Shit! You were done for. Your stupid little job was over before you had even gotten started. Your bottom lip quivered. There was no way you were going to recover from this.
Tre’s heavy footsteps pounded the carpet on approach and your heart dropped into your stomach. Shit!
You pushed the papers on your desk into one huge pile that you’ll painstakingly unravel in the safety of your home. You tapped a few keys on the computer, trying to look busy. He did not need to know that you had been staring at your egregious mistake for the past half hour.
“Do you have that report I told you to do?” Tre asked, once he reached his office.
“Yes, Sir,” you said. You gave him a dumb ass, goofy smile. You handed over the report in a yellow folder. He snatched it from you, not sparing you a glance, and stalked into the office. The door slam made you flinch.
You weren’t even sure why you stuck around this job. You were recently hired to help with the background work stuff while people all around you were getting fired. Tre had been leading that charge.
Ever since you got hired, you wondered if he hated you. He barely said anything to you except to insult your hard work. Look, the workforce was hard, okay? There’s a lot of shit that school or life doesn’t teach you. More often than not, you had to hide your scrolling on Youtube for any kind of help.
Even when he was in a good mood, flashing those pearly whites and that sinful smile, it immediately froze whenever you entered the room. Your good mood would evaporate and then you were falling all over yourself trying to correct whatever the issue was.
His coffee was too cold, too black, too sweet. His blinds were up too high and he had a nasty glare. This report was wrong, that report was wrong. No, this wasn’t the one he wanted. Yes, this was the one he wanted. Run out and get some lunch. Well, you took too long, I don’t want it anymore.
It was exhausting working for the man, but some part of you wanted a crumb of his praise. Just a crumb. You could survive off of it. You knew you sounded pathetic. Your friends and family were getting sick of you complaining about the man.
Your best friend sort of got it. You snuck a picture of Tre one day and showed her. She nearly fell off of your couch when she saw him.
“This? This is your boss?”
Yes, he is seriously your boss. And he was a fucking asshole. Who else would feel absolutely nothing about firing people a few days before Christmas? Christmas! It was your favorite holiday and just thinking about all the tiny traditions made you so giddy, your heart flipped.
Person after person, box after box, floated by your desk looking absolutely miserable. You watched their tortured faces and your heart hurt thinking that all their years of service fit into one tiny box. The tinsel and ornaments decorating the office seemed like cruel mocking reminders that there would be no Christmas cheer for them.
“Get in here, now!” You jerked out of your seat. Fuck, fuck, fuck. The intercom flashed red and then turned off. You hated that damn box. Whatever happened to sending a chat? Way less intrusive and easier on your nerves.
You stood up with your heart racing. The pulse in your neck thumped so painfully, you placed your hand there to try and steady it. Realistically, you didn’t have to tell him about the mistake right now. You just needed a chance to find out what you did wrong.
You smoothed your checkered skirt suit, wiping your sweaty palms on the thick material. El Segundo didn’t get that cold, but the mornings were brutal.
You bit your lip as you approached his office door. You opened it. Tre stood over his desk, one hand on his hip and a paper in his hand. It had to be the report he asked for. You assumed that since it was so late in the evening, that he’d read it first thing in the morning. You had hoped to leave here with a little hope. Not defeated like the past few nights, still not living up to his impossible standards.
All things considered, he was damn delicious. His favorite aesthetic was black. Black shirts, jackets, pants, shoes. The only hint of color on him were his gold chains and glasses. His thick beard complimented his facial structure beautifully. It was an odd mix being both attracted to and afraid of your boss.
“Close the door,” he said.
You followed his command. Shit. You were really in it. Was it your report he was reading? Or did he magically glean that you royally fucked up a fifteen million dollar contract?
Your stomach roiled. You were going to be fucking sick.
You approached the front of his desk like a deer in headlights. There was no room for you to maneuver. It was you, the headlights, and inevitable death. Shit, would you go to jail over something like this?
You twisted your fingers as you stood there and waited for him to acknowledge you. He gave a long sigh and then put the paper down.
“Come here,” he said. His tone was so disrespectful and biting. It was insulting coming from such a pretty man with a soft, ungodly voice.
You rounded his giant desk and stood beside him. He was so huge. Thick muscles bunching the confines of his black suit jacket. You gulped and glanced down. He was looking at your report.
“What does this say?” He asked and pointed to a sentence.
“Due to the natre, er, nature, of the findngs.” Shit. This thing had so many damn typos in it. You typed the damn thing up, distracted, watching all of the people you never got to know walk out of here. Their faces haunted you day in and day out. You shouldn’t care, but well, here you were.
If he had done this at any other time, maybe it wouldn’t have affected you so much. If he fired people around, say…St. Patrick’s Day, then at least people would have an excuse to hide their inevitable drinking.
You looked into Tre’s eyes, an apology ready on your lips, but he was fuming. He was usually so calm and collected, firing people with an ice cold exterior. To see so much passion in him now…you were in deep shit. Without a paddle.
He reached across his desk and plucked out a red pen. “I want you to sit here and highlight all of the mistakes you made. And you better find them all,” he said.
Your shaking hand reached out for the pen. He held it away. “All of them.”
He held out the pen once more and you took it. Tre sat down in his chair and motioned for you to proceed. You spied the chair on the other side of the desk, but you didn’t get the sense that you were allowed to get comfortable while you did this.
You licked your dry lips and leaned over slightly. Page by page, you hunted your mistakes with the red pen. You circled all of the typos you made. Good god, there were so many of them.
Tre sat like a silent specter. His disapproving eyes burned your back as you searched the document. At the end, you were appalled that you let so many slip through. The fuck was wrong with you?
“Count them,” he said.
Shit, shit. You couldn’t handle this fucking stress. “I am so sorry–”
“Count. Them.” You glanced at him. Besides the fire in his eyes, he seemed calm and a little disinterested. Like he was already bored of this shit and wanted you to hurry up.
You took a deep breath. He was only a man. You needed this stupid fucking job, but you will not be treated like this for much longer. Fuck his praise. And fuck him. No man, no job was worth this bullshit. You were going to find a nice quiet job somewhere.
You counted the circles. Like bubbles of misery. “Twenty-four,” you said. At least your voice was strong, giving no hint to your frazzled nerves. Though, the more you thought about it, the less nervous you felt. You were so going to type up your two weeks notice tonight. Fuck this cheerless company.
“Do you have any clue what it’s like trying to do my job but all I can focus on is your shitty ass mistakes? A toddler can type better than you,” he said.
You gasped. Such a fucking asshole. “Everyone makes mistakes,” you pointed out. For fuck’s sake, you weren’t decoding international secrets. The occasional, okay this instance many, typos should not warrant a trip to the principal’s office.
“I spend more time correcting your mistakes than trying to turn this company around. The least you can do is be a competent assistant. Your job is to assist,” he said.
“All you can see is my mistakes instead of all the other shit that I do!” You fired back. Shit. His eyes narrowed and you swallowed, but you weren’t going to hold back. Whether you quit or got fired, you were saying goodbye to him so what the hell did anything matter?
“I bend over backwards to do everything for you! Do you know how many times I’ve had to fix my nails as I run around here doing everything that pops into that meaty ass head of yours? Fix your computer, get you coffee, charge your fucking phone. I was hired to do assistant work, not become your personal maid. The least you can do is treat me with some fucking respect!”
A weight lifted from your chest. You took deep, heaving breaths and felt lighter than you ever had. Even before taking this soul sucking job.
“Bend over,” he said quietly.
“What?” You asked.
Tre stood to his full height. Not quite reaching six feet, but close enough. He unbuttoned his suit jacket and then slipped it off, revealing a black, long sleeved shirt. He rolled up the cuffs.
“I’m spank that tight ass you keep taunting me with for every mistake you have on that report,” he said.
Whoa, what? “Did you not hear what I said?” You asked. You watched as inches of his forearm were revealed. Shit, this shouldn’t be so hot. But it was. Your mouth ran dry for entirely different reasons.
“Every word. Bend. Over. It’s a simple instruction to follow,” he said. The sleeves were at his elbow now.
You barely thought about it. You bent over the desk, breasts pressing into the coolness of his desk. You felt him slide behind you. His thick hands rubbed over the fabric of your dress. He squeezed the fleshiness of your ass and you softly huffed.
“Count out every mistake,” he said.
Smack! Red hot fire bloomed on your right ass cheek. “What the fuck,” you gasped.
“Count it, or we start over,” he said.
“One,” you immediately said. Was this really happening?
Smack! Shit, it really was. “Two,” you gasped again, trying to fight off a moan. Your pussy ached with each subsequent hit. And he was not going easy on you. Each smack was severe, making you reach up on tiptoes to escape it.
He wouldn’t let you. His hand found your ass in any way you had it displayed for him. No two smacks were similar. Some were harder than others. He never hit the same spot twice. Your ass was a mosaic of pain. Heat bloomed in tiny flickers. There was no way you were going to sit down after this.
“Fifteen,” you ground out. Your ass sought his hands, relished each smack he delivered. Your mind turned blissfully fuzzy. Nerves melting away until it was a tiny puddle at your feet. Fuck. You were so turned on and your panties were ruined. Soaked.
Your clit throbbed in time with the flickering heat on your ass. And he continued to smack it. Your ass jiggled after each one. Your feet scrambled for purchase.
“Twenty-two,” you cried out. Tears gathered in your eyes.
The final two smacks to your ass were the worst ones. He had been hiding that strength this entire time. He smacked you like he was truly punishing you for all of the mistakes on the report. You shuddered to think what he would do when he found out about the contract.
He had maintained a professional demeanor throughout it all. He hadn’t spoken, except with soft grunts as the force of his smacks met your ass. He rubbed your booty and you moaned from the white hot pain. How the hell were you going to get home after this?
Tre lowered the zipper on the back of your dress and you whimpered. What more could he fucking do right now?
The answer to that was swift as he pushed the edge of your skirt up and over your wide hips. He groaned with a soft, “fuck”, as he revealed your racy black panties. The lace was sheer with tiny flower designs woven into it.
“I knew hiring you was a fucking mistake. Can’t even focus on shit around here,” he said. Though it seemed like he was talking to himself.
“I thought you hated me,” you whispered. You wiped the wayward tears from your face.
“You and these fucking outfits,” he answered back. He rolled your panties off of your damp pussy. He bent with it, so his breath trailed the back of your thighs and legs. He kissed his way back up. Plump lips placed soft kisses to your thighs and ass. Pain bloomed from his recent spanking and you moaned and moved away. He straightened and pulled your hips back.
He smacked your bare ass this time. The wet sound was loud and lewd. You prayed that everyone was gone for the day. There was no way that these flimsy ass walls had good sound proofing.
“Fuuuuuck,” you moaned out.
“That’s for being such a fuckin’ tease,” he said. His hands left you, going to his own fly as you heard the zipper and the frantic huffs as he hurried to free himself.
“I wasn’t–”
“You know you were. Bending over every chance you got. Smiling every time I fuckin’ saw you. Wearing these outfits you know are not professional,” he said.
He settled back behind you, groaning as you assumed he pumped himself. Fuck, you wanted to see. You looked back at him. Oh, that was a mistake. His head was thrown back, his arms moving jerkily as he pumped his thick length with his hand.
Your pussy clenched as you watched him. You bit your lip at the sheer ecstasy on his face. You didn’t want to speak and interrupt him. While it was true that you dressed up a little more than your coworkers, these outfits were appropriate. You didn’t show unnecessary cleavage and your skirts were decent lengths.
Okay, maybe they went a little too high. But you spent most of your time behind a desk, who was really going to notice? It was better than the bland ass, off the rack looks these other girls wore. It was like they all shopped at the same, ugly ass store. Why should you be bland like them?
You were fucking gorgeous. And wearing pretty outfits made you feel beautiful and comfortable. You loved your heels. Why should you keep all that shit in the closet to make basic bitches feel nice? Fuck ‘em.
Tre rubbed the tip of his dick through your wet folds. You nearly buckled. Your knees collapsed and Tre roughly grabbed your hip to make you stand upright.
You rested your cheek against the cold desk. The coolness helped cool off some of the heat burning through you. You moaned as his tip brushed against your clit. “Please,” you whispered.
“Please what?” He asked.
“Please, fuck me. I need it,” you moaned. God, it had been too fucking long since you got fucked. Not had sex. Got fucked. You had decent situationships in the past. Sure, you had fun. But to get fucked, you needed a certain type of man.
He grunted as he shoved inside, stretching you completely. You cried out as he pulled back and shoved back in, getting his dick wetter from your juices alone. “Sweet fuck,” he moaned.
“So fuckin’ wet for me.” He worked himself inside you, pushing into the warm, wet core of you. You were a vice grip on his dick. Welcoming him deeper and more easily with every glide. His fingers dug into your hips.
“From now on, I’m checking over all of your work. If I catch more typos, that’s your ass,” he said.
How the hell could he expect you to listen when he was buried so deep inside of you, you were pretty sure with one more shove that he would hit your G-spot? You pathetically whimpered as his movements grew slippier. He slid in and out with more ease than before.
His thrusts turned sharper. Each one shoved you against the desk. The hard plane of the desk shoved into your stomach. The pain was barely a thought.
“Oh yes, yes,” you moaned.
“Takin’ this dick well,” he moaned. His thrusts increased. Barely giving you time to breathe in between each one. They were powerful and unrelenting. The desk rattled. His thighs pushed into yours, trapping you against the desk as he pounded into you. His hands around your hips were bruising. He had you slightly lifted, so your feet slightly dangled off of the ground. He supported you easily.
The minimal praise from him made your heart soar and your pussy flutter. “Oh, you like that shit, don’t you?”
“Uh-huh,” you moaned.
“Tell me you like it then,” he said.
“I like it,” you said.
“Like you mean it,” he said and gave another savage thrust that made you see stars.
The desk made an intrusive knocking sound in time with his thrusting. That’s how hard he was fucking you.
“Oh shit, I’m cumming,” you moaned. Your belly flipped as your orgasm built and built.
“Let it go, then,” he said.
You cried and whimpered as you came.
“Mhm, let it go. Let it go. Mhm, feeling all of that,” he cooed while you came, stars going off like bombs in your weak vision. Your head swam. Your vision winked in and out. You were bliss personified, cumming with a type of euphoria you didn’t know existed.
You squeezed his dick as you came. “Get that shit nice and creamy,” he said.
He continued to pound into you, fucking any last remnants of your orgasm out of you. He was so hard and thick, sliding in and out and wrenching every little sound he could out of you.
Wet smacking and the rattle of his thrusts filled the room with a harmony you wanted on repeat forever. You were creamy for him. Needy for him. Needy for the way that he could fuck you stupid and you thanked him for it.
You managed to look back at him. Again, his head was thrown back. The wide expanse of his neck pulsed with a thick vein you wanted to lick. Sweat dripped down into his shirt. His sleeves were still rolled up. He was power and strength. Thick in every sense of the word.
Broad shoulders, soft beard, and those glasses. Good god, you loved those glasses on him. That wide smile of his. His rich, midnight skin. You could spend hours licking every inch of him and it wouldn’t nearly be enough.
He was lost in you, lost with his dick pumping into you. Watching how you were making him feel, another orgasm built. It climbed its way to the surface, whisking you away to the stars again. Shooting through the universe with nothing to hold you down. Nothing to keep you anchored. You just floated like stardust around the cosmos.
“Oh fuck, please,” you moaned. You didn’t know what the fuck you were saying. You were mumbling and moaning, unaware of anything but his hands on your hips. His dick inside you. His balls slapping your clit. Your hand moved behind you seeking his body. His thrusts were too much.
You pushed against him. You didn’t want him to stop. Just for him to ease a bit. Your swollen clit was sensitive as hell. You weren’t sure if you had another orgasm in you. It was too soon and his punishing pace was going to literally fuck you stupid in a minute.
“Move that fuckin’ hand before I do,” he spat.
“But…Sir…” He was fucking the air out of you. You couldn’t breathe. “Fuck, please.”
True to his word, he grabbed the hand that you were trying to push him away with. Your left hand was twisted behind your back as he leaned forward, deepening his strokes.
It turned harsher, fucking you into the desk. He’d fuck you through it if he could. His moans turned desperate.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he moaned. “Take this nut.”
He groaned as he unleashed his climax inside of you. He filled you with his cum. His dick twitched and pulsed against your spongy walls as his cum was fucked into you. Still he moved, still he pounded into you like he was trying to prove something.
His hips faltered as he sputtered the last of his cum. He buried himself to the hilt and a shiver ran through him. Your frantic breathing matched his as he slowly pulled out of you.
Fuck! You were fucking sore! A hundred baths wouldn’t soothe this shit. A moment later, his cum slipped out of you and you moaned. Well shit. No condom. Luckily, you were on the pill but still. You shouldn’t be so fucking horny that you didn’t talk about these things.
However, after getting fucked the way you just did, you’d happily accept his cum.
Many times over.
His cum leaked out of you, sliding down your pussy and legs. He groaned, leaned down, and spread your ass cheeks just to watch.
“Such a pretty fuckin’ pussy,” he said. He pushed two fingers inside and you whimpered. He grunted one last time and removed his fingers.
He grabbed a few tissues off of his desk and started to clean you up. You hissed when he hit a sensitive spot. He kissed your ass and legs as he cleaned up. “So fuckin’ pretty. So fuckin’ beautiful,” he soothed as he cleaned.
You were a shaking mess. Your legs could not support you. He chuckled as he finished. He pulled his pants up first. You heard the slide of his belt buckle. Then, he pulled your panties up to cover your ass. Next, he lowered your skirt and fixed the zipper.
You were too weak to move from your spot. Too weak to stand up and say or do anything. You laid there in amazement. He helped you up and then steadied you while he lowered you into his chair. His chair.
He got to work, righting various knick knacks on his desk. He moved a tiny Christmas snow globe on his desk that you had brought him on the first day. He had raised his eyebrow at you, told you that you couldn’t bribe your way to a good start, and disappeared into his office. You thought he had thrown it away. You were too nervous to notice anything when you came into his office. Just his disapproving eyes and smug smirk.
He moved the report back into the yellow envelope and closed it. He turned around and rested his ass against the desk. He tapped the file with his long fingers. “Be sure to correct this. We’ll go over it first thing in the morning.”
You glanced at him. “Yes, Sir,” you said with a hoarse voice. Fuck, your throat hurt. Everything hurt. He smirked as if he were reading your thoughts.
Yeah, a merry Christmas to you too, mu’fucker.
Masterlist | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 - Completed
#Megaminds Secret Files#The Secret Tre Files#Trevante Rhodes fanfic#Trevante Rhodes fan fic#Trevante Rhodes fanfiction#Trevante Rhodes fan fiction#Candy Cane Lane fanfic#Candy Cane Lane fan fic#Candy Cane Lane fanfiction#Candy Cane Lane fan fiction#Tre x Black!reader#Tre x Black reader#Tre x Fem!reader#Tre x Fem reader#Tre x plus size reader#x Black reader#Tre x Assistant!reader#Tre x assistant reader#Tre x you#Tre x reader#x reader#my writing#Black writers
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The Secret Bucky Files
Moving my fics to @megamindsecretlair
Bucky x Black!Reader Fics
A New Assignment
It's a Little Warm, All Parts
#bucky barnes#bucky x black!reader#bucky x reader#fanfiction#bucky fic#bucky x plus size reader#james buchanan barnes#megaminds secret files#The Secret Bucky Files#bucky smut#bucky x female reader#james bucky barnes#bucky fanfic
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My Favourite Villains Part 1 - 7 Art Dump (Old Art.)
Villains~
Pennywise (1990)
Pennywise (2017)
Slappy (Goosebumps)
Dr Kamikazi (Robotboy)
Chucky (Child's Play)
Fats (Magic)
Billy (Dead Silence)
N-Gin (Crash Bandicoot)
Hypno (Creepypasta)
King Dice (Cuphead)
Baldi (Baldi's Basics in Education and Learning.)
Zander (Dinosaur King)
Gideon (Gravity Falls)
Sideshow Bob (The Simpsons)
Penguin (The Batman: Animated Series)
Dr Doofenshmirtz (Phineas and Ferb)
Mad Mod (Teen Titans)
Defoe (Huntik: Seekers and Secrets)
Little Ogre (Soul Eater)
Dr Phineus Phibes (Shaggy and Scooby Doo Get a Clue)
Dr Calico (Bolt)
Purple Guy (Five Nights At Freddy's)
Mandark (Dexter's Laboratory)
Evil Rick (Rick and Morty)
Mad Hatter (Batman: Animated Series)
The Major (Hellsing Ultimate)
Danzo (Naruto Shippuden)
Vector (Despicable Me)
Archibald Snatcher (The Boxtrolls)
Frollo (Hunchback of Notredame)
Cedric (Sofia the First)
King Candy (Wreck it Ralph)
Gallaxhar (Monsters VS Aliens)
Jack Spicer (Xaolin Showdown)
Jeffery Hawk (Dead by Daylight)
Akainu (One Piece)
Dr.Maniac (Goosebumps.)
Unwanted House Guest (Creepypasta/Meme.)
Jareth the Goblin King (Labyrinth.)
Dr Hannibal Lecter (Silence of the Lambs.)
Syndrome (The Incredibles.)
Dr Eggman (Sonic the Hedgehog.)
Maxie (Pokemon.)
Captain (Armando) Salazzar (Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man Tells No Tales.)
The Look-See (Crypt TV's The Look-See.)
Kureo Mado (Tokyo Ghoul.)
Drei (Hiiro No Kakera.)
W.D. Gaster (Undertale.)
Freddy Krueger (Nightmare on Elm Street.)
Drago Bludvist (How to Train Your Dragon.)
Claude Faustus (Black Butler.)
Stefano Valentini (Evil Within 2.)
John Bacchus (Future Diary.)
Kisame Hoshigaki (Naruto Shippuden.)
Mayuri Kurotsuchi (Bleach.)
Hisoka (Hunter x Hunter.)
Tighten (Megamind.)
2nd Dimension Dr Heinz Doofenshmirtz (Phineas and Ferb: The Movie.)
Dr.Octopus (Spiderman 2.)
Squilliam (Spongebob Squarepants.)
Mr.Chuckle Teeth (The X-Files.)
Laughing Jack (Creepypasta.)
Weevil Underwood (YU-GI-OH!)
Dr.Herman Carter (Dead By Daylight.)
Babadook (The Babadook.)
The Child Catcher (Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.)
Colonel Muska (Studio Ghibli's Laputa Castle.)
Ghetsis (Pokemon.)
The Crooked Man (The Conjuring 2.)
Crocodile (One Piece.)
Danny Dickens (Angels Of Death.)
Kabuto (Naruto Shippuden.)
Yami Marik (YU-GI-OH!)
Byakuran Katekyo (Hitman Reborn.)
Jason The Toymaker (Creepypasta.)
Slenderman (Slenderman: The Movie.)
Igor Neuhaus (Blue Exorcist.)
Captain Kuro (One Piece.)
Guzma (Pokemon.)
Mr.Wood (Goosebumps.)
Professor Venomous (OK K.O. Let's Be Heroes.)
Lyle Tiberius Rourke (Atlantis.)
Faba (Pokemon.)
Petrel (Pokemon.)
Cyrus (Pokemon.)
Lysandre (Pokemon.)
Arlo (Pokemon.)
Evil Dr Phibes (Shaggy and Scooby Doo Get a Clue.)
Papillon (Buso Renkin.)
The Joker (Batman: Animated Series.)
Mr X (Resident Evil.)
Foolscap (Dinosaur King.)
Giovanni (Pokemon.)
Tamatoa (Moana.)
The Toymaker (Harmony & Horror.)
Jean-Louise Bonaparte (Yu-Gi-Oh! GX.)
Benson (Toy Story 4.)
Ed (Dinosaur King.)
Mr Burns (The Simpsons.)
Victor (Boruto.)
Beppi The Clown (Cuphead.)
Scud (Yu-Gi-Oh! The Movie: Pyramid Of Light.)
Sordward (Pokemon SWSH.)
Sheildbert (Pokemon SWSH.)
Sakutaro Morishige (Corpse Party.)
Mr Hook (MAR.)
Malvolio (Twelfth Night Manga.)
Captain Hook (Peter Pan.)
John Ratcliffe (Pocahontas.)
Fagin (BBC's Oliver Twist.)
Jack Randall (Outlander.)
Waluigi (Mario.)
The Toad (Flushed Away.)
Gnauss Wisden (NiNoKuni.)
Orochimaru (Naruto.)
Braz D. Blood (Blood Lad.)
Douman Ashiya (Tokyo Ravens.)
Shidou Dairenji (Tokyo Ravens.)
Dr. Yung (Pokemon: The Mastermind Of The Mirage Pokemon.)
Mr Big (Michael Jackson's Moonwalker.)
Grings Kodai (Pokemon: Zoroark: Master Of Illusions.)
Dick Dastardly (Scooby Doo Movie.)
Greed (Fullmetal Alchemist.)
Hidan (Naruto Shippuden.)
Mandrake (Earwig And The Witch.)
Murder The Clown (Goosebumps.)
Kai Chisaki (My Hero Academia.)
The Grabber (The Black Phone.)
The Gold Watcher (Dark Deception.)
Miroku Yukihiko (Get Backers.)
Sartorius Kumar (Yu-Gi-Oh! GX.)
Schneizel El Britannia (Code Geass.)
Chairman Rose (Pokemon SWSH.)
Koichi Shidou (Highschool Of The Dead.)
The Riddler (Assault On Arkham.)
Sugou Nobuyuki (Sword Art Online.)
The Handsome Young Man (A Tale Dark & Grimm.)
The Pied Piper (Shrek 4.)
Aizen Sosuke (Bleach.)
Demiurge (Overlord.)
I plan on drawing more of my favourite villains at some point.
#ShanxPennywise#Traditional Art#Lineart#Old Art#Monochrome#Ink Drawing#Drawing Practice#Fanart#Crossover#Cartoon#Anime Manga#Favourite Villains#Horror#Horror Fan
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FTH 2022 - 25 Auctions for lonely fandoms
@fandomtrumpshate says: we have over 800 auctions offered by over 600 unique creators this year, in 400 fandoms. (yes, literally 400!) With that volume of offers out there, it's pretty easy for smaller things to get overwhelmed.
So, here is a random assortment of 25 auctions where there is only ONE creator offering works for that fandom. Take a gander and maybe find one that makes you go, "Huh, I'd bid on that..." Many of these creators are offering in multiple fandoms, including being the sole-offerer for the highlighted fandoms, so take a look!
The Adventure Zone - M fanart by @sanddall-asy HERE
Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe - up to 10k M fanfic by KGBKBG HERE
Bridgerton - up to 10k M fanfiction by @useyourtelescope HERE
Cowboy Bebop (2021) - up to 10k E fanfiction by @elasticella HERE
Detroit: Become Human - M fanart by @danyaselmar HERE
Derry Girls - T fanart by facethestrange HERE
Dirk Gently - M fanart by @helloliriels HERE
Dresden Files - up to 5k E fanfiction by @badassbutterfly1987 HERE
Euphoria - up to 10k E fanfiction by sheetghosts HERE
F1 RPF - up to 5k M fanfiction by @blackwidowrising HERE
Grace and Frankie - up to 5k E fanfiction by @sapphicscholar HERE
Hamilton - up to 5k E fanfiction by iniquiticity HERE
The House in the Cerulean Sea - up to 5k T fanfiction by MickyRC HERE
Howl’s Moving Castle - up to 10k E fanfiction by @tol-himling HERE
Jurassic Park/Jurassic World - up to 10k E fanfiction by @holycatsandrabbits HERE
Les Miserables - up to 10k E podfic by @iskierka HERE
Megamind(2010) - up to 10k M fanfiction by the_wanlorn HERE
Once Upon a Time - up to 5k E fanfiction by @sapphicscholar HERE
Sonic the Hedgehog - M fanart by @skelligiri HERE
Southpark - up to 10k E fanfiction by haslenoot HERE
Stardew Valley - up to 5k E fanfiction by @mireia HERE
Tiger & Bunny - up to 10k T fanfiction by @mad-madam-m HERE
Twilight - up to 10k m/m E fanfiction by @ncdover1285 HERE
Umbrella Academy - up to 10k E fanfiction by @annemcsommers HERE
Yellowjackets - T fanart by facethestrange HERE
#fth 2022#TAZ#aridante#bridgerton#cowboy bebop#d:bh#derry girls#dirk gently#dresden files#euphoria#f1#grace and frankie#Hamilton#thitcs#howl's moving castle#jurassic park#les mis#megamind#once upon a time#sonic fanart#south park#stardew valley#tiger and bunny#twilight#umbrella academy#yellowjackets#podfic#fanfiction#fanart
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Close Encounters
Oh, my.... is that... a Megamind fic?? Why I do believe it is!!
Roxanne muses on an obsession from childhood, and a slightly embarassing tattoo. Megamind interrupts while she’s watching her favourite movie. A wardrobe malfunction requires two sets of hands to fix. Rated M, 7.5 words, contains alien pop-culture, swears, and being cut out of a really expensive dress.
Also available on AO3!
~ Look, Roxanne tells herself for the umpteenth time. You've always been into alien movies.
Still, she can't help but feel a little weird as she slides the DVD into the player. But dammit, this is one of her favourite movies and has been since she was a kid so she's going to watch it and she isn't going to feel guilty about it.
Much.
The DVD whirs as she heads into the kitchen and throws a packet of popcorn into the microwave. It begins to hum as she moves upstairs, shrugging off of her blazer as she goes.
Everyone has a weird obsession when they’re a teenager. It's expected. It's natural. She had friends who had gone through ghost hunting phases, tarot cards, cryptids. But none of those friends had found the object of their obsessions steadfastly following them into adulthood. Not literally, in any case.
It had started when she was a kid and her dad had brought a VHS collection of some old Sci-Fi show at a yard sale. She was immediately hooked. Next she tore through Star Trek, developing a deep fondness for the original series with its cheap sets and absurd acting. Her sisters thought she was mad, but she didn’t care.
There were times when she felt like her closest friends were extraterrestrials, secret agents and time travelers. In fact, during the first few months in college, she'd spent more time than she was ever willing to admit alone, binge-watching episodes of Doctor Who and The X-Files. They were comforting, like old friends, and they let her cling onto that hope - the hope of what if. What if there was something amazing out there, waiting for her. All she needed to do was reach out and find it.
That all changed after she'd made friends - specifically, once her British roommate had realised that “going to the library” actually meant “watching Daleks try to destroy the world” and had insisted she move her binge sessions into their room.
Soon, there were “I Want to Believe” posters above her bed. She saw every alien film that came out - and all the ones that had come before she was old enough to “get it”. She loved Contact, with its promise of great, unimaginable things, and the Alien series, even though she'd never been good with horror. She found herself drawn to the movies where the aliens weren't some unimaginable evil come to destroy the planet. There were enough things trying to destroy the planet as it was: panicking about some unknown alien threat felt redundant.
Avatar came out the year she graduated, while she was travelling. She and Fiona, the roommate, watched it in a tiny theatre in some small town in Florida. This was what Roxanne wanted - adventure, freedom, new worlds begging to be explored. She had blushed during the sex scene. Fiona teased her about that for weeks.
It was just after Avatar that she...well. She did what any graduate in their early 20s would do with a wad of birthday cash and an obsession.
If someone asked now, someone from her new life in Metro City, she'd say that she “lost her mind”. She knows that she should be calling it a regrettable decision, blaming it on the folly of youth, but honestly...she doesn’t regret it all that much. If it ever came out, she’d spin some tale about being young, impressionable, stupid, and say that of course she regrets her choices. She’d add something about believing we should learn from our mistakes instead of pretending they didn’t happen.
That would give her a good excuse not to get the damn tattoo covered up.
Before she moved to Metro City, before she was Roxanne Ritchi: Reporter, she didn't really care. But in the city, plagued with its rather unique troubles, she realised some things were better left under wraps. She stopped wearing bikinis, only bought one-pieces, and avoided anything too low cut in the back or arm. She dodged the crop-top phase of 2018 like a pro.
And now, standing upstairs in her room, finally free of her tailored-to-death work clothes, she lifts one arm and peers in the mirror at the little symbol that adorns her ribcage. It's about the size of a credit card, perhaps smaller, perfect for being hidden away and forgotten. She runs a finger over the black lines - it feels like it’s not even there. She wonders what everyone would say if they knew. She wonders what he would say.
But no one in Metro City will ever know. In fact, no one knows - no one apart from Fiona, and that was only because she needed someone to hold her hand and convince her that her bad idea might have actually been a pretty good idea. He will certainly never know.
The thought is… disappointing.
The whole thing is disappointing, really. Here she is, living the reality of all those films and TV shows she loves so much, while being stuck in a normal job in a normal apartment doing… normal things. Normal-ish.
She tries not to dwell on what sort of situation she would need to find herself in for Megamind to see it in the first place. She certainly isn’t going to start wearing crop-tops to work, and there’s only one other scenario in which him - or anyone, for that matter - might catch a glimpse of her bare ribcage.
She’s trying not to dwell on it. Trying, and failing.
Fiona still teases her about blushing during Avatar. She’s never actually told her friend - her best friend - about these new and lurid little imaginings, but she assumes Fiona knows regardless. She’s always been able to tell when Roxanne is crushing on someone.
From downstairs, the microwave pings, breaking her out of her thoughts. She throws on a pair of leggings and a baggy sweater and heads back down.
However weird her life may be, however guilty she feels about it - Close Encounters is still an excellent film.
An hour and a half later, she's curled up on the sofa, knees tucked up to her chin and the half-eaten popcorn abandoned beside her.
Every time she watches this movie, she promises herself she isn't going to cry, but now it's nearly over and she can feel her eyes welling up. Even the five notes - the little tune they use to communicate with the aliens - is making her feel teary. She wipes her eyes with her sleeve and gives a noisy sniff.
And Megamind bursts through the patio doors.
~
“Miss Ritchi, prepare to-”
She's crying. She's sat on the sofa and she's crying and there's smudged makeup around her eyes and she looks so sad and—
This is unprecedented.
“Megamind!” She scrambles for the remote, pauses whatever it is she was watching and hastily wipes her eyes with her sleeve, smudging her make-up even more. “Sorry, I'm just…”
She's blushing, now, and her eyes are red and watery. Evil Gods - what's happening? Has something terrible happened, did someone die, did…did she break up with her insufferable superhero boyfriend?
“I...uh…are you...okay, Miss Ritchi?”
She sniffs and wipes at her eyes again with an exaggerated blink, trying to quell the tears.
“I'm fine! Really, I'm okay…” She stands up, “Uh...kidnapping?”
Megamind peers at her. He furrows his brow.
“Miss Ritchi, I have no intentions to kidnap you in this...in this state!”
She seems insulted. “I mean, I was going to go and fix my makeup, but—”
“What? No! Obviously, you're upset and…”
And what? And he would never kidnap her if she was feeling vulnerable? That he'd never want to be the thing that pushes a ‘bad day’ into a ‘shit day'? That he's come to her apartment, just a few times, to find her weepy or upset or asleep and he's simply turned around and called the whole thing off?
He doesn't need to finish that sentence, thankfully, because she cuts him off with a laugh, loud and jarring.
“Upset? No, no: I'm not upset!”
“But…” he gestures vaguely at her face, “the crying!”
“Oh!” It's like she's only just realised that there's tears falling from her eyes, “No, it's just...this movie always makes me cry!”
“Then...why watch it?” He asks, baffled.
“Because it's one of my favourite movies,” she says with a laugh, “and, you know, the crying is kinda nice. It's cathartic.”
“I… can't say I understand. Is this a human thing? I was under the impression that crying was bad? Something to be avoided?”
“Hah! It's a Roxanne thing. Loads of people watch movies that make them cry. Not everyone, I guess, but it's not weird or anything.”
“Uh-huh…”
“It's not like it's because I'm sad,” she continues, fiddling with the sleeves of her jumper, “it's just...it’s happy, sort of, and bittersweet and emotional so it really… gets to me. Like I said, it's my favourite movie.”
He isn't convinced. "You're crying because the movie is happy?"
She nods. "I guess? It's not a traditional happy ending, but… it's important. To me." She trails off, and he can't help but notice a pale blush spreading across her cheeks.
"What movie is it?"
Now she looks downright panicked.
“Look: I'm fine," She blurts out, the blush deepening, "let me run upstairs and put something more suitable on and then… kidnapping, right? That's why you're here, after all.”
“O...kay?” She's dodging the question, but he finds himself drawn along by her enthusiasm, so simply nods lamely and watches her skip up the stairs.
Finding himself alone in her apartment, he cautiously sits on the very edge of the couch and looks back to the TV. The remote lies next to him. Well, if she isn't going to tell him what she was watching…
He flicks the movie back on.
It's old - late 70s, he guesses. The scene playing appears to be some sort of military base, with personnel hurrying around in the dark. He hadn't pegged Miss Ritchi as a fan of military movies. He pulls the bowl of popcorn towards him and starts to absent-mindedly nibble on it when something unexpected appears on the screen.
A spaceship. It's comical, really, and extremely typical of a human's understanding of spacecraft; a standard flying saucer, covered in blinking lights and flashing neons. It's not a shape particularly well suited to space travel; he should know, after all.
He continues to watch, and now there's various humans milling about; some dressed in flight suits, some in variously inaccurate historical garb. There are reunions, apparently, between these people and those on the military base.
So Roxanne is watching some sci-fi movie? That's… unexpected. And she's crying, too. Is she… scared? That would explain the crying; he's not sure about the physiology of so-called "happy crying" but is well aware that humans cry when afraid. He's seen it himself, many times. Did she lie to spare his feelings? A horrible pit opens in his stomach and he freezes, one hand hovering above the popcorn bowl. Is she scared… of him?
It shouldn't be surprising. She should be afraid of him. Not just because he's a villain who threatens to throw her to the piranhas every few days, but because… he's scary. He knows he is; he's so other compared to the humans, even compared to Metro Man. It's natural to be scared of him. Watching scary movies isn't as strange as watching sad movies; he watches scary movies himself, although they very often fail to have the desired effect.
Maybe he should just… leave. This, clearly, is why she was hesitant to tell him what she was watching. She didn't want him to know that the idea of an alien threat upset her so much. She's always being brave, needlessly brave. He turns away from the television and takes a deep, calming breath.
CRASH.
From somewhere upstairs comes an enormous bang and the distinct sound of glass shattering.
He jumps up, sending the popcorn flying. All pretense that he might leave is gone, and before he’s thought about what he’s doing he’s leaping up the stairs and throwing the door to her room open and—
Roxanne is standing in the middle of her bedroom, pieces of broken mirror scattered around her feet, her hair a wild halo around her head.
“Megamind!” She flings out her hands - a gesture warning him not to come closer, not to step on the glass - and he realises that the dress she must have just put on is still open, revealing far, far more of her skin than he’s ever seen before. He can see her bra. He swallows, feeling his ears getting hot.
“Ah! I’m sorry; I heard the crash, I thought…”
And then he spots it.
~
Roxanne grabs her new deep purple dress out of the wardrobe then sets to work on fixing her smudged makeup. With horror, she realises that she didn't turn the TV off; just paused the DVD. Which means he could sit down, means he could see what she was watching, see what was making her cry…he's going to think she's completely insane. He's going to think she's some creepy alien fan-girl. She wouldn't be at all surprised if she goes downstairs and finds the DVD playing and the apartment empty. She makes a mental note to hurry.
Makeup fixed, she pulls off the sweater and yanks the purple dress over her head. She tugs at the zip underneath her arm, and—
It catches on the fabric.
Shit.
She tugs again, but the zipper is caught and it won't budge. She tries to pull it down, but that makes it worse. She swears under her breath, aware that she's wasting time, and decides to abandon the dress. She tries to pull it up over her head, but it barely gets over her chest, and the design means there’s no way she can wriggle it down over her knees.
Shit shit shit.
She pulls back into a reasonable position and catches herself in her mirror. Her hair’s a mess, her face is red, and staring at her in the mirror is the cheeky black outline of an alien face neatly framed between the two sides of her dress.
This will not do.
There’s a pair of nail scissors sat on her dressing table. She could just...cut the dress off. But it’s basically brand new, and it cost so much money: way more than she’d ever usually spend on a dress. And it’s a nice dress.
Okay, no. Cutting it off is the last resort.
She hops around the room, desperately tugging at the zip, muttering under her breath - come on, come on…
It moves. Just a fraction. Yes, yes! She gives it one huge tug - but it’s stuck again, and totally off-balance she stumbles backwards and crashes into the mirror which topples over and smashes, the glass shattering and skittering across the floor. She freezes. Fuck.
He's there in seconds. He comes bursting into the room in an obvious panic and she throws out her arms to stop him stepping on the glass – a pointless gesture, she realises, as he's wearing those damn leather boots.
He's there, standing in the doorway, breathing heavily and panic in his eyes and for a moment, neither of them say anything. He just… stares. And then, suddenly, he seems to realise that he's staring.
“Ah! I’m sorry; I heard the crash, I thought…”
He stops. His eyebrows twitch. His mouth hangs open around a half-finished sentence.
He’s seen it. There’s no way he hasn’t seen it. She could just… ignore the situation. Pretend she has no idea why he's suddenly found himself speechless, pretend there's absolutely nothing out of the ordinary about the few inches of skin currently on show.
“I… the dress… the zip’s caught,” she hazards, “I tried to get it up and I… fell. Into the mirror.”
He blinks. “Oh. Right.”
“I… ah… I’m kinda stuck, actually.”
"Oh?"
Roxanne sighs, knowing what she’s going to have to do next. "Look…" She says, "This is… I know this is weird but…" Oh god, oh god, "… Can you… help?"
"… help?" His voice is suddenly very small, very quiet.
She can feel her own face flushing now. "It's just… It was a really expensive dress and right now my only other option is to use my nail scissors to cut it off and I… I really don't want to do that. If I can help it."
"But… ah… you want me to help?"
She shrugs. "If… if it's not weird?" She spots the look on his face, and suddenly starts backpedaling. "I mean, you don't have to. It's… it's fine, I can probably figure it out myself…"
He swallows, heavily, then takes a cautious step forwards. An unseen shard of glass cracks beneath his boots and he winces - they both wince.
“So, the - the zip?” He hazards, and she can see where his ears are turning purple, the colour spreading across his cheekbones.
She nods silently, sure that if she actually speaks she’ll say something to only further incriminate her, and raises her arm, giving him access to the zip. He edges forwards, cautiously at first, then when it's clear she isn't going to jump away, with a little more certainty. He gently takes each side of the dress in his fingers and examines the fabric where the zip is stuck. The little alien - just three lines of black ink, indelible on her skin - peers back at him. He doesn’t say anything. Neither does Roxanne.
"The fabric here is caught in the zip," he mutters, finally, "we need to fix that…"
He pulls the two sides together again, aligning the zip, then gives it a tug. To Roxanne's shock, it moves; but not far enough.
“I need to..” He huffs through his nose, concentrating, “I need to get a closer look. Do you… I mean, can I..?”
Roxanne nods, silently, and then gently - oh so gently - he’s moving the fabric around to see where it's bunched in the zip. His fingertips - just his fingertips - brush against her skin. It sends a little shiver down her spine, making her heart race.
“It’s caught, here…”
He starts to fiddle with something - he’s too close for Roxanne to tell what, trying desperately to ignore the feeling of his fingers fluttering against the sensitive skin. He gives the zip another, cautious tug down - but it doesn’t move at all. He makes a little annoyed noise that’s almost cute.
“Um,” Roxanne begins, feeling a little silly, “is it…”
“Completely defective?”
She smiles. “I was going to say ‘fucked’, but - sure. Is it defective? Completely?”
He laughs. He actually laughs, and the sound only furthers the flush creeping up her neck.
“Well…”
“Shit.”
“You mentioned something about… scissors?”
Roxanne groans, instinctively moving away a little as she buries her head in her hands. “Fuck.”
He laughs again - which still sends her reeling - but doesn’t let the dress go, still peering at the zip.
“Actually…”
“What?”
“Well, I mean - I’m no stranger to, you could say… clothing malfunctions. If you can cut this along the seams, rather than where the fabric is caught… it’s salvageable, certainly.”
“Salvageable? Megamind, I can barely sew a button…”
“Oh, no! I meant… that is, if you want to…”
“... if I want to what?”
He takes a breath. “I’m sure Minion would be more than happy to assist. He’s bored of capes and spikes, though he would never tell me that, of course.”
Roxanne blinks. “Minion?”
“Oh, yes, quite the tailor.”
“You’re telling me that Minion makes all your… your capes, and suits, and things?”
“Well; yes! Of course! Who else would? I may be brilliant in most ways, Miss. Ritchi, but textiles are a little out of my grasp.”
Roxanne thinks. “I thought you just, I don’t know, had some sort of… Supervillain store you got all this stuff.” Saying it out loud, it sounds catastrophically stupid. “...Online, maybe?” She hazards.
“Hah! No, that would be far too easy. And far too traceable! No, Minion is more than capable… and, yes. He should be able to fix the dress. I mean. If you want him to - I understand, that might be somewhat odd?”
“No, I… Like I said, it was an expensive dress…”
“Well, then.” He takes a step back. “Where are the scissors?”
Roxanne takes stock, for a moment. She truly doesn’t want to ruin the dress… but surely this is a step too far. The film she can wave off, the tattoo cannot be ignored - no matter how hard they’re both trying - but giving Megamind her dress? So his henchman can repair it? It’s a step towards…
Towards something. She doesn’t know what. She wants to know what. She thinks of the tattoo, of twenty-something-year-old Roxanne, her obsession with things beyond her world. She wonders what that woman would say if she saw her like this: in her bedroom, alone, with an alien man offering to cut her out of her dress.
Oh, to hell with it.
“On the dresser,” she says, gesturing towards it with her head.
“Right.”
He picks his way across her room, avoiding the glass that still litters the floor, and finds the scissors amongst the mess of toiletries, make-up and various bits of junk on top of the dresser. Her heart is beginning to thunder in her chest, her fingers twitching nervously at her side.
He grabs the scissors, fiddling with them, snipping them open and shut.
“This will be easier if…” he mutters, and then, as Roxanne watches, he places the scissors back down and begins to remove his gloves.
Roxanne swallows as the black leather slides away to reveal long, slim blue arms. She realises, all at once, that she’s never actually seen him without his gloves on. It feels lewd, almost. Wrong. She resists the urge to avert her eyes, as if he’s undressing in front of her.
The first glove is removed and he flexes his slender blue fingers before moving to the other. She realises with a start that she’s staring, and quickly looks away, hoping he won’t notice the heat creeping up her neck.
When the act - dull yet obscene - is finally over, he picks up the scissors once more and walks to her side, taking another look at the fabric, looking for the best seam to cut.
“Here…” he says, and Roxanne can’t tell if she’s talking to himself or to her, “I can cut below the zip, then I can cut through the fabric of the zip itself, as that will need to be replaced anyway…”
His fingers play on the seams, the touch feather-light. He peels back the fabric again to better see the zip, and Roxanne can see the focus on his face. She rarely sees him like this - not up close, anyway - when he’s given a task to fixate on.
“Is that okay, Miss. Ritchi?”
She blinks. She’s barely been paying attention - too distracted by watching him work, by his skin on hers.
“I… yes?”
“Good. Okay, hold still: I don’t want to stab you…”
She snorts. “That makes a change.”
He freezes, then straightens himself so he can look her in the eye. He takes a moment - like he’s composing himself - before speaking.
“Miss Ritchi—”
“Roxanne.”
“What?”
“Call me Roxanne. Please. Considering the circumstances it only seems right.”
He looks at the scissors in his hand, then to her dress, then back to her face. “If anything,” he says, “this seems like a circumstance in which I should be calling you Miss Ritchi.”
“We’ve known each other for too long for you to call me Miss Ritchi, Megamind. It’s fine.”
“I’m don’t thi—”
“It’s fine.” He looks chastised - almost hurt. Guilt bites at her. “Sorry. I… you were going to say something?”
“It’s irrelevant.”
“No, it’s not. What was it?”
“Miss - ah - Roxanne. If you’re uncomfortable with me being here… I can go. It’s fine. I’m sure you’re capable of this,” he gestures at the scissors in his hand, “yourself. You can just… leave the dress somewhere and I’ll have a brainbot pick it up later. Or not, if you’d prefer.”
She frowns. “Megamind, I asked you for help.”
“Yes, but… you can change your mind. Tell me to leave. I don’t want you to think…” he trails off.
“Think what?” He doesn’t respond. “Think what, Megamind?”
“That I’m a threat.”
“What?”
"When you left I… I turned the movie back on." He says it like a confession. Roxanne’s stomach drops. Shit.
"Ah…" She chews her lip, "Look, I can explain…"
He shakes his head. "You don't need to explain anything, Miss Ritchi. I understand."
"You… you do?"
"It's… understandable. The way you… ah… the way you feel."
This is not what Roxanne is expecting. "You don't think I'm, you know. Weird? Or… creepy?"
He frowns. “I… what? No, no of course not. It’s… it’s only natural. I mean... ” He appears to be thinking, choosing his words carefully, “Considering what you’ve been… what I’ve put you through…” He rubs his hands together, nervously. “I understand.”
She blinks. “What?” She’s starting to feel like a stuck record.
“You don’t have to pretend, Roxanne. You don’t have to lie to me. And you don’t have to be brave, either.”
Roxanne has no idea what he’s talking about. “Brave?” She repeats, weakly.
He sighs, like she’s being deliberately obtuse. “I saw what you were watching. And, honestly, you claim that you were happy, or… or something, but I saw how upset you were, too. And… humans get upset when they're worried, or sad, or…” he looks away, looks at the floor, “scared.”
And then it all clicks into place - his hesitance, his uncertainty, the way he’d balked when she’d joked about him not stabbing her. For the second time, she feels horribly guilty. Guilty, but - confused. Almost amused. How could he possibly think she was scared of him when he can see the evidence of her borderline obsession staring him in the face?
“I don’t…” she starts, unsure, “Megamind, how… Why would I…” She stutters, tripping over her own words. "We can't… You can't just…" She starts wringing her hands in the air, "You can't just say that, while ignoring the… the fucking elephant in the room!"
Megamind seems unfamiliar with the phrase. It pulls him out of whatever thought he was having. "The what now?"
"The… oh, Jesus Christ, Megamind. The fucking…" She raises her hands to cover her face, her palms pressed against her eyes. "The tattoo!" She sighs, finally. "We both know you've seen it. I promise you, Megamind, I’m not scared of you. I’m not… trying to be brave, or spare your feelings. But how could you stand there, and see it, and still think that?”
“Well, ah - coping mechanisms, you know, and…”
She raises her eyebrows. “And?”
He sighs. “And… and the piece is fully healed, but the ink shows signs of spread. There’s patchiness, a sign of wear, where your clothes rub against it, which is typical of a piece that’s roughly…” he does a quick calculation, “ten years old? Give or take?”
She stares at him, dumbstruck, and he continues.
“You could have gotten the tattoo itself several years ago, before… all this, but haven’t been able to have it covered since coming to Metrocity. That would make sense, of course, as you’re you, and if word got out that you had… this tattoo, even if it was an old tattoo, then that would be… well, it wouldn’t be particularly good for your public persona, I think we can both agree.”
“I… yeah.”
“So.” He folds his arms across his chest like he’s just won the argument, “Like I said. There’s… an explanation. If one is needed.”
Roxanne chews on her lip. “That’s not… that’s not it, though. That’s not why I’ve not gotten it covered. I mean - there’s other cities out there, you know. I could have gone to another state…”
“I… suppose.”
“I’m not… all these things you think about yourself, Megamind, they’re not—” she suddenly realises she’s about to be horribly offensive, considering his career choices, and attempts to reign herself in, “You are scary. Sometimes! But it’s not because you’re an alien, it’s because of, you know, the death-rays and the laser guns and the continual attempts to kidnap me and take over the world! And even then, Megamind, even with all of that… I still trust you.”
“... Oh.”
“And, honestly? The tattoo? I can’t stand acting like it isn't there and like it isn't super weird, so if you're gonna say something or…" She swallows, "… or realise that I'm a complete lunatic and leave, then…do it now. Get it over with."
“You’re a lunatic?”
“I - well - well, yes! Probably!” She throws her hands into the air in frustration. “Megamind, you walked in on me sobbing because of a movie about aliens, and then - as if you needed further proof that I’m mad - discovered that I have an alien tattoo!”
“It is a little…”
“A little what? Weird? Creepy? I swear, Megamind, I never came to Metro City expecting this to happen, if that’s what you’re—”
“...Flattering.”
She chokes back whatever she was about to say next, the words suddenly forgotten. She feels her face turn red.
“Roxanne, I… I’ve been here - here on Earth, I mean - since I was a baby. It’s all I’ve known. And being like me…” he still has the scissors in his hands, and he begins to fiddle with them. “People are scared. Disgusted. Confused, angry, horrified… They see the head, and the skin, and the eyes, and, shit…” he chuckles, and Roxanne realises this is the first time she’s heard him swear, “and all the things that come with my biology that virtually no one knows about, and... perhaps they’re right to be scared. I’m not normal. I understand that.”
“But you’re not—”
“But I am. I don’t fit in, certainly not like your perfect boyfriend does. I’ve come to peace with that. That’s why I’m here, after all. It’s why I do what I do.”
There’s too much to unpack there - too much raw truthfulness - but Roxanne hooks on to the one thing she knows isn’t true.
“He isn’t…” She pauses. May as well spill all the secrets. “He isn’t my boyfriend.”
This seems to hit him harder than the sudden revelation that she’s a secret alien fan-girl. “He what?”
“He’s not my boyfriend. Honestly, I don’t want him to be, either. He’s annoying. Don’t tell him I said that," she adds, quickly.
“But—”
“I also don’t want to talk about it,” she says, as Megamind gapes at her, utterly lost. “You can ask me later. Okay? Not today.”
“I… yes. Okay. Yes.”
“What were you saying?” She prompts, softly, “before I uh… before I told you my second biggest secret?”
He shakes his head, with a small laugh. “I was saying… I know that I’m alien. People are scared of me. But…”
“But?”
“... it was worse. Thinking that you were, too. Not because of the death threats and the traps and the kidnappings, but because of… of me.”
Roxanne smiles. “Well… I don’t. The opposite, really. Is it… is it weird?”
“That depends.”
“On?”
“On who you ask. I assume… no one else knows about the tattoo?”
“No one apart from the person who came with me when I got it,” she says, shaking her head.
“And they’re..?”
“She’s good at keeping secrets. And lives three and a half thousand miles away. She won’t tell anyone.”
“Right.”
He looks unsure, and she feels awkward, exposed, just standing there. “You’re sure it’s not creepy? Or… disrespectful? I don’t want it to be, I don’t know… offensive? When I got it I wasn’t exactly planning on meeting any actual aliens…”
That makes him smile. “No, I suppose you weren’t. It’s fine. Did you… did you want to meet actual aliens?”
“Well, yes,” she says, “but I never anticipated one being so… close.”
He smiles, and she bites her lip. There’s a soft pause - not awkward, not stilted. Just there.
“Oh!” He says, suddenly remembering, “Your dress - do you still need me to…”
“Oh! Right!” She shakes herself out of the comfortable thought, trying to ground herself back in the present, “Yes, if that’s okay?”
“Yes, right…”
She’s struck with a thought. “Wait!”
He freezes, immediately. “Yes?”
“I assume you were here to kidnap me?”
He looks a little surprised.
“Well, yes, that was rather the point of bursting in through the top-floor balcony. However…” he peers at his watch, which lights up in neon blues as he raises his wrist, “I fear the time window may have passed…”
Roxanne raises her eyebrows. “There was a time window? What were you even planning?”
He lowers his wrist and straightens his back, smugly. “Roxanne, really. You’ll have to wait and see. It’s easily rearranged.”
She rolls her eyes at the familiar, easy banter but doesn’t comment on his stubbornness.
“Fine,” she says. “Um. Do what you need, then.”
She gestures vaguely and he approaches once more. Roxanne finds herself holding her breath as his hands hover above the dress. This time, he doesn’t speak, just begins to work at the stuck fabric. He pulls the zip aside and she bites back a gasp as the cool metal of the scissors glides across her skin. Megamind goes still, for a second, clearly reacting to her instinctual response.
“Perhaps…” He’s muttering to himself, one hand still holding the zip, the other the scissors. He’s close enough that Roxanne can feel his breath on her skin. She hopes he can’t see the goosebumps that are raising on her arms, glad he can’t hear the way her heartbeat is absurdly picking up.
He’s never been so close.
And then, instead of pressing the edge of the scissors to her ribcage like he’d done before, he plucks at the fabric, pulls it away, and slides two fingers beneath it, his skin brushing - pressing - against the sensitive skin below.
Roxanne’s skin is on fire. Every inch of her - from the place where Megamind’s fingers are pushed against her skin to the tips of her fingers - is suddenly alert, tingling. Until now, she’d been happy enough to push any lingering thoughts of him to the back of her mind, to pretend it was nothing more than a foolish infatuation - like being a teenager again. But now she can’t ignore it, and she can’t pretend her body isn’t reacting to his touch, that she isn’t lighting up from the inside.
He begins to work, cutting through the fabric of the zip, using his fingers to protect Roxanne’s skin from the blades. He moves slowly, meticulously, avoiding the expensive fabric of the dress. As he moves lower, Roxanne can feel her heartbeat in her wrists, in her neck. The end of the zip is nestled in the curve of her hip, and his hands are drifting ever-lower. She wonders if he too is silently panicking, if he’s holding his breath like she is, standing deliberately still, too far into the task to stop now.
Neither of them speak - him working, her watching - and soon his hand is resting against her side, the heel of his hand leaning lightly against her hip and his fingers still held to her skin. The moment when he cuts away the bottom of the zip, snipping into the thick material in sharp right angles, lasts an age. She’s desperately aware of how close he is, how if he only moved a little further south his fingers would be slipping beneath the soft satin fabric of her underwear.
That thought sends a hot little rush to her core, and there’s a tightness in her stomach. She flexes her free hand - the one facing away from him - trying to distract herself. It would not do to throw herself at her would-be kidnapper.
And then it's over, and he’s moving back up, silently slicing through the material. He cuts through the final few inches and - with a low, long sigh - leans back, the destroyed zip in one hand and the scissors in the other. Roxanne quickly grabs the sides of the dress, holding it together, trying to retain at least a modicum of dignity.
Her face must be scarlet, she knows, her breathing heavy. His breathing is odd too - she was right, she realises: they were both holding their breath.
Finally, Megamind backs away, and she can properly look at him. She wants to say - wants to do - but she doesn’t know what. Before she can move, he speaks.
“There. You should be able to, um…” He’s blushing furiously, twisting the zip around his naked fingers. “That is…”
She’s not used to him like this. Usually he’s in control, sure of himself and what he’s doing next, even when his plans have failed and his inventions are burning around him. But now he’s stuttering and hesitant, utterly unsure.
Roxanne attempts to take control of the situation, despite feeling as flustered as he looks.
“Thank you,” she mutters, and her faux confidence falters almost immediately, making her voice sound low and hoarse. She clears her throat and tries again. “I… thanks.”
She wonders what he’d do if she asked him to stay, what he’d do if she simply pulled off the dress right in front of him, what he’d do if she kissed him.
She doesn’t do any of those things.
“I’ll just get changed,” she says, trying to keep her voice even, “and you… can wait downstairs?”
“Yes! Yes, I will… do that. Yes.”
His eyes are wide, pupils expanded and dark, ears purple. He heads back to her dresser, putting down the scissors and picking up the gloves. As he moves back to the door, he steps on a shard of glass that crunches loudly beneath his boot, making them both jump. The sound seems to startle him, and he dashes from the room. She can hear him thundering down the stairs.
As soon as he’s gone, she sighs, relaxing. That was… new. She wants to chase the feeling, but fear gnaws at her. What if she read him wrong - what if his reaction to their closeness was just concern. He’d seemed anxious enough when they’d been speaking, worried that she was scared of him: it would make sense if he’d spent the past ten minutes paralysed with fear, not with the excitement currently flowing through her own veins.
She shuffles out of the dress, carefully pulling it over her head and placing it down on the bed. She moves between the shards of mirror that still litter the floor and grabs the sweater and leggings she’d thrown off earlier, tugging them back on quickly, trying not to let herself think about doing anything rash. She slips on her slippers to better protect the soles of her feet from the glass, grabs the now destroyed dress and then, after another deep breath to steady herself, follows Megamind downstairs, intending to find the dustpan so she can clear up the glass.
To her surprise, Megamind is already using it - or rather, a brainbot is using it, darting around her living room and sweeping up spilt popcorn while making happy little beeping noises.
“Ah…”
Megamind and the brainbot both spin to look at her. Megamind is looking a little guilty. His gloves, she notes with disappointment, are back on his hands. The absurdity of the little scene is enough to break her from her thoughts.
“What happened?”
“There was an… accident. When I heard the crash, I came running…”
“And spilled my popcorn all over the floor?”
“Something like that.”
She shakes her head. This, somehow, is the least unusual thing that’s happened to her today. The brainbot, now finished with its job, floats past her with a nod and a bowg, then deposits the popcorn in the trash can in her kitchen. She can’t help but watch, fascinated, as it hovers back towards Megamind, ready for the next instruction.
“Well done, number fifteen!” He coos, patting the brainbot on its glass domed head like it’s a well-behaved puppy, “Very nice. Now, I need you to go up to Miss Ritchi’s room to clear up some smashed glass. Understood?”
The brainbot bounces in the air a couple of times, then zooms up the stairs, still trilling. Megamind spots Roxanne’s expression.
“It’s perfectly safe,” he says, “don’t worry.”
“Actually,” she says, “I was going to tell you off for calling me ‘Miss Ritchi’ again.”
“Oh, that?” He laughs, “No, that’s just programming. They’re - ah - programmed to respond to certain names. You’re hard-wired into the code as ‘Miss Ritchi’, I’m afraid.”
“Really? Why me?”
“Well, you spend more time around them than anyone else, other than myself or minion. Makes kidnappings go smoother, you know. Less likely to… ah… target the wrong person.”
“Has that happened?”
“Nearly happened. Once.”
She frowns. She doesn’t like the thought of him kidnapping someone else, and it has nothing to do with concern for some poor unsuspecting soul who doesn’t know him like she does.
“Right,” she’s unsure of what else to say. “So, ah…”
There’s another crash from upstairs, and then the Brainbot returns, the dustpan full of shards of mirror. They both watch as it quickly tosses the glass into the trash can, then zooms back upstairs.
“I should go…”
“You can stay—”
They speak at the same time, cutting one another off.
“If you want—”
“I mean, if you’ve got somewhere to be—”
They both fall quiet. On the TV, the credits of the film are silently playing. Roxanne grabs the remote and pauses the DVD, then twiddles it in her hands, feeling uncharacteristically nervous.
“I don’t…” Megamind starts, voice quiet. Roxanne turns, and he tries again. “I don’t have somewhere else to be.”
“Okay. So…”
“Ah… what was it? The film?” He gestures at the TV.
This is ground Roxanne is more familiar with. “Oh! It’s, ah, Close Encounters of the Third Kind.”
He doesn’t seem to recognise the name. She frowns.
“From the 70s? Alien abduction, flying saucers, you know…” she hums the little five-note tune, “dah-dah-dah-bum-bum.”
“And it’s your favourite?”
She wiggles her shoulders in a so-so way. “One of them.”
“Are all your favourites about, ah…” He falters, falling silent.
Roxanne finishes the sentence for him. “Aliens?”
He nods, silently.
“At the risk of sounding like a weird fan-girl,” she says, slowly, “...yes.”
He doesn’t look scared, at least.
“If you like,” she says, quickly, before she can change her mind, “and it’s not too weird… stay. And we can watch one. Together. If that’s not…”
“Something a weird fan-girl would say?”
She feels herself blush. “I was going to say ‘uncomfortable for you’, but… yeah.”
“Well I…”
He hesitates, and in the moment of silence the Brainbot appears again. It makes that trilling little noise at them both again, before disposing of the last of the glass, dropping the dustpan and hovering expectantly in front of its master. Megamind seems to take advantage of its sudden reappearance.
“What a good little bot you are!” He says, once more petting it on the top of its glass dome, the lights inside flashing. “Well done!”
It bowgs again, its long metal legs twisting in the air, claws grabbing at nothing.
“I…” Roxanne watches. Megamind sets his shoulders - he appears to have made a decision. “Daddy’s got some more work to do here, okay? You go home, and tell Minion not to wait up.”
The Brainbot chirps.
“Yes, yes, I know what he’s like. Tell him it's fine. Oh, and one more thing…”
He takes the ruined dress from Roxanne’s unresisting hands and passes it to the bot, who takes it gently in its metallic claws.
“Give this to Minion, alright? Tell him I’ll explain later.”
The Brainbot spins, and then it wooshes away, out the still-open balcony door and away across the city.
“So…” Now he’s made a decision, he seems very certain - there’s swagger back in his step. “Which would you recommend?” He says, lowering himself down onto the couch.
He talks confidently, but Roxanne can’t help but note how close to the edge he’s sitting - how unused he is to this sort of casual friendliness. It’s like he’s anticipating that she’ll kick him out at any moment.
“Let me think...” she turns away from him, back towards the kitchen, where she reaches into the cupboard and grabs another bag of popcorn, throwing it into the microwave.
She mentally skims through her favourite films, wondering what might be best. And then…
But no, she can’t. She shouldn’t.
She peers over her shoulder at the alien man sitting on her couch, legs crossed, fingers twitching on the armrest. It wasn’t so long ago that those fingers had been pressed to her skin, gently tracing down her ribcage, cool and soft and tempting.
...Fuck it.
The microwave pings. She grabs the popcorn, along with another bowl, and strides towards the couch.
“Tell me...” she says, handing him the bowl and popcorn then reaching towards her little collection of DVDs. “Have you ever heard of Avatar?”
Megamind pauses, pouring the popcorn into the bowl. “I can’t say I have.”
Roxanne prays that she isn’t blushing. “Well, then,” she says. “Let’s start there.”
#megamind#megarox#megamind x roxanne#roxanne ritchi#my fic#only slightly saucy#mostly just quite silly#u do NOT want to know how long this has been sat in my WIPs
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My Personal Top 250 Movies
Watership Down
Princess Mononoke
Shinbone Alley
The Thief and the Cobbler (Miramax & Recobbled Cut 4)
Tokyo Godfathers
The Last Unicorn
The Hours
Artemisia
Phantom of the Opera (1987)
Smart People
Snow White: a Tale of Terror
Spirited Away
Mary Reilly
The Piano
Speak
Millennium Actress
American Pop
Seraphine
Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets
Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone
Babe
Zootopia
Charlotte’s Web
Inside Out
Wall-E
Mulan
City of Lost Children
Amelie
Happily Ever After
How to Train Your Dragon
Megamind
Snow White and the Huntsman
Babe: Pig in the City
Ferngully
The Good Son
Nell
FeardotCom
Se7en
The Dark Knight
Iron Man
The Illusionist (2010)
Flawless
Sorority Boys
Wolf Children Ame and Yuki
A Silent Voice
Scooby-Doo on Zombie Island
Monsters University
Faust
Rent
The Ballad of Little Jo
Casablanca
Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?
Sunset Boulevard
Titan AE
The Swan Princess
Ed, Edd n Eddy’s Big Picture Show
Batman Beyond: Return of the Joker
Little Nemo: Adventures in Slumberland
Felidae
In Her Shoes
I am the Pretty Thing That Lives in the House
Agnes of God
Mrs. Parker and the Vicious Circle
The Tower
Whale Rider
Homeward Bound 2
Girl, Interrupted
Tangled
Frozen
Sing!
The Princess and the Goblin
Lady and the Tramp
Jungle 2 Jungle
Anastasia
Malice in Wonderland
The Secret Garden (1993)
Juno
Gargoyles the Movie: Heroes Awaken
Repo! The Genetic Opera
Care Bears Movie II
Adam Sandler’s Eight Crazy Nights
The Squid and the Whale
A Goofy Movie
Treasure Planet
Muppet Treasure Island
Balto
Lolita
Cats (Andrew Lloyd Webber)
Quest for Camelot
The Fall
Matilda
Cats Don’t Dance
The Witch
Romance & Cigarettes
The Little Mermaid (Sanrio)
Leafie: A Hen into the Wild
Sleepy Hollow (Burton)
Coraline
Searching for Bobby Fischer
The Return to Oz
The Others
The Rocky Horror Picture Show
Rover Dangerfield
Uptown Girls
The Cat Returns
The River King
28 Days Later
Home Alone
Legend of the Guardians
The Indian in the Cupboard
Rushmore
Dogma
Planet of the Apes (Burton)
Shakespeare’s Romeo+Juliet
Moulin Rouge
Amadeus
Beetlejuice
The Mask
Party Girl
Daytrippers
Harriet the Spy
3 Men and a Baby
Baby’s Day Out
The Lion King
The Emperor’s New Groove
The Secret of NIMH
Tarzan
The Halloween Tree
Pollock
A Beautiful Mind
The Aviator
The Moth Diaries
The Blair Witch
House of Wax (2005)
Gothika
Darkness Falls
Jeepers Creepers
Casper
Ghostbusters 2
The Hunchback of Notre Dame
Hanging Up
Away We Go
Mind Hunters
Labyrinth
The Dark Crystal
Into the Woods
Wakko’s Wish
Speed
Heathers
Stage Beauty
Kiss the Girls
The Big Lebowski
The Countess
Song of the Sea
The Jeffrey Dahmer Files
Lassie
Steel Magnolias
As Good as it Gets
Black Panther
Uncle Buck
The Breakfast Club
Ferris Bueller’s Day Off
Thumbelina
Batman: Mask of the Phantasm
Forrest Gump
Interview with a Vampire
Bring it On!
The DUFF
Some Like it Hot
Rear Window
The Birds
The Shining
It (2017+19--it’s a two-parter, shut up)
The Fugitive
Clerks
Zombieland
Fritz the Cat
Nine
Chicago
A Muppet Christmas Carol
My Sister’s Keeper
New York, I Love You
Sunshine Cleaning
Little Miss Sunshine
Mermaids
The Nightmare Before Christmas
Fargo
Anna and the King
Les Miserables (2012)
The Secret of Kells
Jumanji
The Silence of the Lambs
Red Dragon
Sliding Doors
Black Swan
Circle of Friends
Feast of Love
The Wind Rises
The 4th Floor
Clue
Fire & Ice
We’re Back! A Dinosaur Story
The Goonies
Stand By Me
Now and Then
Gay Purr-ee
The Land Before Time
North Country
Mona Lisa Smile
Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves
Aladdin and the King of Thieves
Don’t Say a Word
The Weatherman
Transamerica
Under the Red Hood
Ace Ventura
The Story of 15 Boys
The Gift
A Journey Through Fairyland
Copycat
A Few Good Men
Con Air
All Dogs Go to Heaven
Calendar Girls
Fried Green Tomatoes
Fantasia
101 Dalmatians
Fox and the Hound
Coffee and Cigarettes
Eavesdrop
Brief Interviews with Hideous Men
Ghost World
Hercules
Eye of the Killer
Haunted
The Beautician and the Beast
The Accused
The Darjeeling Limited
Center Stage
The Red Eye
I Am Sam
Philadelphia
The Sixth Sense
Lady in the Water
Alice in Wonderland (1999)
Osmosis Jones
Ratatouille
Lars and the Real Girl
Batman Begins
Newsies
#writing prompts#finished prompt#reference#hedgerow#I am a total slave to nostalgia it seems#spot me trying to figure out what all of these have in common#and now i have to write down my favorite lines/moments from all of these#queue
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💄Lipstick (chapter 2)
Megamind/Roxanne, M rating, pre-movie AU
Roxanne slips away from the mayor’s birthday gala to search for a piece of evidence that will break the story of governmental corruption in Metro City wide open. Unbeknownst to Roxanne, however, Megamind is at the party, too. And the city’s supervillain wants the same thing as the city’s nosiest reporter…
AO3 | FFN | chapter 1
Megamind was beginning to think he had been—precipitate—in deciding to test the disguise watch now.
But it had seemed like such a perfect opportunity for a test! He needed to break into the mayor’s office and retrieve that file, and the party would provide the perfect distraction—and when the file was found to be missing, the mayor would be much more likely to suspect one of the party guests, rather than Megamind, who, as far as anyone would know, hadn’t even been there.
Never mind Minion’s objection that the watch was just a prototype and so far they still hadn’t been able to get the hard light to render clothing! Megamind was perfectly capable of wearing normal human formal wear!
Wearing it for an interminably long amount of time.
In a large crowd of people.
Who all hated him.
Without his usual suit and spikes for protection.
…and, since the city hall security team searched the guests before letting them into the building, also unarmed except for a pocket knife oh yes this hadn’t been a bad idea at all.
You are not going to have a panic attack, he told himself unconvincingly as yet another person jostled his elbow unexpectedly, you are not going to have a panic attack. Just breathe! Just—
The sea of people parted for just a moment, and Megamind saw—
Roxanne.
—and stopped breathing for another reason entirely.
Here. She was here. They were in the same place and she wasn’t tied up and no one was screaming and there wasn’t any doomsday device for him to concern himself with and he could just
exist.
In this place with her.
(the next time his elbow was jostled, Megamind barely even noticed.)
Roxanne’s gown was dark red, a mark of bold color in a sea of pastel, and there was a kind of simple elegance to it that instantly made every other dress in the room look gaudy and cheap in comparison.
Her lips were the same dark red as her dress, and she had on long, dark evening gloves that Megamind found himself instantly and vividly fantasizing about her removing very slowly—
He pulled his thoughts away from that image with a jerk, flushing hot—he was in public, good lord; bad enough to fantasize about her in private, but even more inappropriate to do it here.
The crowd shifted and Megamind lost sight of her.
He swallowed, trying to get ahold of himself. He’d known she would be here, damn it, and yet, as always, the sight of her, the fact of her, still knocked him—
Head over heels, he thought.
—god, he was such an idiot.
And he needed to get himself under control, or someone was going to really seriously notice his idiocy; that tabloid article had—
He’d moved across the ballroom floor, he realized, without meaning to, moved in the direction of her, as if she’d pulled him to her on an invisible thread.
She was standing next to a large statue of Metro Man with a champagne glass in her hand. Standing alone. For one insane moment, Megamind considered going to talk to her. He wavered in indecision, and then—
Metro Man—Wayne—was there with her, suddenly, saying—something; Megamind couldn’t hear what—to Roxanne.
Megamind narrowed his eyes, but Roxanne gave Wayne a smile and started to answer.
Not wanting to be caught staring, Megamind moved away from them before casually doubling back.
They were still talking. Roxanne looked—well, she didn’t look overjoyed, but there was none of that—tension—in her manner that he would have expected after a breakup.
A breakup handled by Metro Man in the most disrespectful way possible; he’d given an interview claiming that he had actually never been in a relationship with Roxanne, which was—
—ludicrous.
Of course it was ludicrous.
As Megamind watched, Roxanne said something to Wayne, gesturing idly with her champagne glass, and Wayne laughed.
Megamind’s lips twisted into a sneer.
Didn’t Wayne feel guilty at all for breaking up with her? And for such a—a—a trivial reason, that tabloid article claiming that she was having a secret affair with Megamind, which clearly and obviously wasn’t true! Not only would Roxanne never in a thousand years touch Megamind, of all people, but, even more importantly—Roxanne wasn’t that kind of person. She wouldn’t do something like that. Anyone who knew her would know that.
Didn’t Wayne feel guilty at all?! Didn’t Roxanne feel angry at all?! Didn’t—
Megamind moved with studied casualness in another direction, and then doubled back again towards the two of them.
They were still talking to each other in a way that was—distressingly and incorrectly normal!
Why—
—unless—
—unless there hadn’t been a breakup.
Unless it was some kind of plot between the two of them to get Megamind to stop kidnapping her by pretending that they weren’t dating oh god oh god the tabloid she’d figured it out she’d figured out he was in love with her and—
Megamind fairly fled to the other side of the ballroom. There was a convenient pillar in the corner; he took cover behind it.
oh god oh god oh no please no—
No. No! That couldn’t be it. It couldn’t be! If they’d done it to trick Megamind, they would have framed it as an actual breakup; they wouldn’t have pretended they’d never been dating!
They knew he wouldn’t believe that; Roxanne had insisted for months, during the early days of the kidnapping, that she and Metro Man weren’t dating, and Megamind had never believed her and—
—and—
—and.
The world seemed suddenly to go slow and quiet around Megamind, as if the room was filled with water instead of air, everything muted and distant and oddly slowed.
Holy shit.
Holy shit; had she been telling the truth?
Surely not. Surely the fuck not.
Megamind shook his head and the world snapped back into place and he needed to—needed to think; needed to—
He needed to not think. He needed to not think about this, because if he did, he really was going to have a panic attack and this was not the place and he needed to focus.
Megamind mentally shoved the question of Roxanne and Metro Man violently aside.
He would think about it later. He would figure it out later.
He was here for a reason.
To get that damn file.
Which was what he was going to do.
(later later later think about it later)
He managed, after several false starts, to make his way across the ballroom again, mentally steeling himself to walk past Roxanne and Metro Man on his way into the hall. When he got there, though, he saw to his relief that they were both gone.
Thank evil heaven.
Megamind slipped quietly out the door and began to walk in the direction of the velvet rope that separated the brightly lit entrance hall from the dark corridors of the rest of the building.
Once she’d made her way upstairs and found the mayor’s office, the lock on the door proved easy to pick. Roxanne did it quickly, and then stepped inside and closed the door behind herself.
She didn’t turn on the lights; she didn’t want someone to notice, and besides, the wall behind the mayor’s desk was entirely windows, and the light of the city that came through them was more than enough to see by.
Roxanne went to the desk, and turned on the computer, first.
(not even password locked; how very stupid)
A search through the computer yielded nothing, though—it had to be an audio file, or possibly video; when she’d overheard the Mayor and Judge Sludd talking two weeks ago, the Mayor had sounded as if what he had was absolutely positive and incriminating.
Don’t you threaten me, Sludd; I’ve got proof on all of you; real proof, and it wasn’t Nixon who went to prison!
—‘real proof’, and the reference to Nixon—it had to be audio at least.
No video or audio files on the computer—but—ooh—an audio recording application hidden away in one of the files, and—
Roxanne examined the computer itself. Hidden microphone; hidden microphone—there had to be—where was—
She looked closely at the mouse. Ahh, yes. There it was.
So. He’d recorded the audio with the microphone hidden in the computer mouse—recorded it onto the computer—and then transferred it onto some kind of disc, deleting it from the computer itself, just as Roxanne had suspected he might. So very satisfying to have her hunch confirmed, but it did complicate the search.
Roxanne opened the desk drawers and rifled through them. No flash drives, no discs, nothing, just pens and thumbtacks and rubber bands. And a Metro Man pez dispenser.
Roxanne picked it up, rolling her eyes. The sheer amount of Metro Man merchandise in this city was absolutely ridiculous. She flicked the plastic head back absently, but apparently it was empty; no pez appeared. Roxanne went to replace it in the desk drawer, and then something—
—there was something not right; something wrong with the thing in her hand; something that didn’t make sense. What—?
It was too heavy, Roxanne realized. Too heavy for a pez dispenser in general, if she remembered her childhood right, and definitely too heavy for an empty pez dispenser.
She pulled the plastic head, tugging the thing open as if she was going to refill it.
There was a flash drive inside.
A slow, gleeful smile began to curve Roxanne’s lips.
...to be continued .💋
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Cherik Fusion List (L...Z)
As the list grew too long for tumblr, I had to divide it into two posts. You’ll find the first part here.
For the rare pairs, the post is here.
Labyrinth
Labyrinth by luninosity
Maze by AuraWhiteFox
Three different fills, two on anon and one by murf1307
NEW Fanart by shigtopia
Ladyhawke
As Dark Longs For Day by Yahtzee
Fanarts by a-ard
A gif set and a poster by darksideofafangirl
Drawings (Charles with wolf!Erik and Erik with Hawk!Charles) by Takhesis
The Last Of Us
Drawing by temple-secrets
The Last Unicorn
Drawings by brilcrist
Drawing by Takhesis
Legally Blonde
Legally Charles by until_the_earth_is_free (trans!Charles, non-powered)
The Little Mermaid
NEW Drawings by nympah
Chibi by thacmis (first one)
Fanart and prompt (1, 2, 3) by thacmis (crossdressing Charles)
Fanart by Shadow
NEW Another fanart by Shadow
Lord Of The Rings
Lord of the Flings by Fullmetalcarer
A painting by thacmis and a ficlet inspired by it by theregoesallthecottoncandy
Mr.& Mrs. Smith
Mr. & Mr. X, Fanart by thacmis
Macbeth
Fanarts by nikorys
Fanart by yaya1029
Mad Max
Fanart by dwaroxxx
Gifs by unearthlydust
Magic Knight Rayearth
A Flowery Band To Bind Us To The Earth by keire_ke
Maid in Manhattan
Can’t Buy Me Love by niniblack (powered)
Maleficent
Once Upon A Dream (You'll Love Me) by FaerieoftheCourt (you need to log in ao3 to read)
Once Upon A Dream (Remix of True Love’s Kiss) by thacmis (fic and art)
True Love's Kiss by Butterynutjob with art by avictoriangirl
A great serie of drawings by GQD
Two drawings
NEW Mamma Mia
Photoset by ittakun
Matrix
The Matrix by swoopswoop (you need to log in ao3 to read it)
Megamind
Fanarts by GQD
Miss Peregrine’s Home for Peculiar Children
Fanart by Ju Lee
Moulin Rouge
Come What May by FuryRed (modern au, powered)
Mini-Fill on anon (powered)
Photoset by ittakun
Much Ado About Nothing
Photoset by chessandmagnets
Mulan
Hold Your Own, Stack Your Stones by primetime (Dom/Sub verse though it’s written more like an A/O verse)
The Mummy
Love Immortal by Gerec
The Mummy by professor
The Nightmare Before Christmas
King of the Pumpkin Patch by tahariel
North And South
To Turn and Look Back When Thou Hearest the Sound of My Name by lachatblanche (powered)
Overboard
Sink or Swim by endingthemes (ABO verse, brief Charles/Shaw)
Pacific Rim
Fanart by 4xontuesdays and GQD
The Painted Veil
Fic by turtletotem (ABO verse, non powered)
Parks and Recreation
Battle Strategies and a sequel by madneto
Doors Unlocked and Open by Clocks
Persuasion
No Longer in Silence by Black_Betty which inspired this cover and manip by amarriageoftrueminds
Phantom Of The Opera
Drabble by Kairin16
Drawings by Arisell
Drawing by delannoie
Manip by Krem
NEW Photoset by pumpilu
Pocahontas
Pocahontas by Schach (mutant!Charles, human!Erik)
Pokemon
Battle Strategy by aesc (11th ficlet, kid!Charles and kid!Erik)
I Will Travel Across the Land by wallhaditcoming
How to Train Your Magneto by Unforgotten
Portal
Love as a Construct by Takmarierah
Somehow Suddenly by hiza-chan
NEW Powerpuff Girls
Fanart by emotions5
Power Rangers
Go Go XMFC Rangers by professor
Pretty Woman
Downtown (everything's waiting for you) by so_shhy (non-powered)
Pride And Prejudice
A fic inspired by the ending of the movie of 2005 by ikeracity (powered)
Photoset by deadalliandra
Princess Bride
A Tale of Two Bubs by madneto
Twoo Wuv by theapolis
Prometheus
Fanarts by brilcrist
Robin Hood
The Glorious Tale of Love, Deceit, and Milkshakes by Pangea, ikeracity, kageillusionz
Photoset and prompt by plavapticica
Sailor Moon
In The Name Of The Moon by TurtleTotem
My Heart Is A Kaleidoscope by wallhaditcoming (unfinished but the end could work like that I think, also it’s really good)
Untitled Ficlet by loveydoveyecstasy
Untitled Ficlet by TurtleTotem
Sailor Moon!Charles Doodle by the picklest pickle inspired by TurtleTotem’s drabble
Sleeping Beauty
Beyond the Brambles by velvetcadence
The Sleeping Beauty in the Ivory Tower by ximeria
Drawing by thacmis
The Sleeping Beauty Android AU with the original prompt by trobador with a gif set by starrose17, a ficlet by aesc and a comic by palalife
Sleepless in Seattle
Fic by Gerec
Snow White
Love while the night still hides the withering dawn by Kairin16
Chibi by thacmis (fourth one)
Drawing and prompt by thacmis (crossdressing Charles)
Sound of Music
Family Business by cherik-mcbender
A Moonbeam In Your Hand by alphabetotter
The Sound Of Music by Gerec
Drawings by amimochi
Star Trek
Resistance Is Futile by professor
The Trouble with Telepaths by endingthemes
Drawing by jeusus
Star Wars
200 words fic with jedi!Charles and sith!Erik by bad-luck-blue-eyes
Across The Stars by anon (kid!Charles and kid!Erik)
Across The Stars by Gerec
Across The Stars (The Blue-eyed Jedi Remix) by Nostalgic_Kitty
NEW Fic by cherik-prompt
Ficlet with Leia!Erik and Han!Charles by niniblack
Got a Lead Brain ; It’s a Battle Magnet by letosatie
I Promised You Life by Sperare
Lonely Hearts Club by scrapbullet
X-Men VI : Return of the Jedi (comic) by Thacmis
Drawing with both of them jedi by Thacmis which inspired this ficlet by Pangea
Drawing of Padme!Charles and Anakin!Erik by Thacmis which inspired this ficlet by Pangea
Drawings by GQD
Photoset and prompt by liveanddiefortissimo
Manip by Sasheenka
NEW Steven Universe
Moodboards by ittakun
NEW Stranger Things
Moodboards by ittakun
Supernatural
Without You I’m Nothing by PippinPips
Tarzan
Into The Jungle by madneto
Tarzan by Schach
Drawing by allenfung
Manip by lprock
Titanic
Untitled Ficlet by Ikeracity
Titanic AU Snippets (orphan account)
An inktober drawing by Thacmis
A photoset by Sasheenka and Another edit here
A photoset by
Tomb Raider
On Hearts and the Finding of Lost Treasures (The Tombs and the Raiding Thereof Remix) by luninosity
Tombs and the Raiding Thereof by professor
Treasure Planet
To Rattle the Stars by Pangea with drawings by GQD
Tron
Inside the grid (fanart) by spaceAltie
NEW Warm Bodies
Fanarts by GQD
Waterworld
The Lonely Sea and the Sky by Black_Betty
The X-Files
Drawing by drawsbutnotreally
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almost (1/2)
(ao3)
for @setepenre-set: almost kiss.
This is a story about almost .
al·most
ˈôlˌmōst/
adverb
not quite; very nearly.
This is a story about almost moments, about almost times, about almost they aligned and met and became one, but fate kept them parted. Just near, but not quite. Just—a brush of fingertips, of shoulders, but never lips.
Never anything to bring them close, never anything to make everything clear, never, never, never—just almost something once, twice, thrice, etcetera.
Almost somethings and complete nothings and somewhat perhaps. Maybe, if only, one day, not now, but possibly then.
This is a story of almosts, between Megamind and Roxanne.
If we start at the beginning though, we would know that fate would have that Megamind almost didn’t come to Earth. It’s a small almost in the odds of possibilities, but it is there nonetheless. For there are other worlds with oxygen and water and life as we know it, close to our solar star, but not as close all the same. And maybe, in that timeline, in that reality, an asteroid bounced off his little pod and set him off course of Earth’s trajectory by a few degrees and he ended up elsewhere instead.
On a planet without humans, on a planet that could be tidally locked, on a plant we don’t know. On a plant where there is no Roxanne.
(Or Metro Man)
It’s a small almost, a tiny one in the things that almost could have happened, but didn’t. Not because it couldn’t, but didn’t in the way that destiny takes hold and has a plan that requires that almost to never exist.
For something has to happen for nothing to happen at all. Nothing minus desire and missed chances and oh god, I should have done something, should have said something, should have, should have, should have .
This is a story about almosts, but not quites after all and there can be no regrets when someone isn’t aware that it’s something they wanted all along.
So, Megamind never goes to another planet. He ends up on Earth, finding a home in a prison, rooted in the way that life would have it. He almost didn’t make it. He almost got sucked into a black hole with his parents. He almost , almost , almost landed at Scott Manor, in the lap of luxury, in a different life entirely, but he didn't.
He wouldn’t be Megamind if he didn’t land in the prison, wouldn’t be Megamind if he didn’t land on Earth, wouldn’t be Megamind if he landed elsewhere instead. Wouldn’t be, wouldn’t be.
He could have been anyone else, the list of possibilities endless, infinite, but he didn’t.
He became Megamind, the last of his kind, fought through space and time, fought against all odds, fought against becoming nothing, becoming part of the void and became something . Is it evil truly wrong when it takes someone from nothing and give them meaning? Who needs goodness where there is no purpose? And Megamind is filled to the brim with purpose and determination and things a will so strong he refuses to break in two.
Because almost breaking doesn’t happen, almost snapping doesn’t happen, this is a story about almosts and maybes and Megamind couldn’t be the man, the male, the-he-has-no-words-for-his-people he is today if he gave way to almost .
The beginning for Roxanne, however, has always been more certain. Fate wanted her born, fate wanted her made, fate wanted her and made sure to give her a path to call her own. The story of almost for Roxanne isn’t if she almost lived or almost died. The story of Roxanne circles entirely around Megamind.
For if Megamind didn’t come to Earth, Roxanne still would have lived as people do, still wondered about the stars at night, still grown up in a fracturing home, still become a journalist, still, still, still.
Her life would still move on, would still continue, would still, still, still, still be something. Maybe there would be an absence, maybe it would have been less exciting, maybe it would have been less blue.
She would almost become someone important, but not having the fame wouldn’t bother her. She’d never knew popularity. And she would almost seek truth and justice as fiercely, but without anything to follow, she would remain satiated at wondering, at daydreaming instead.
Almost for Roxanne is that she doesn’t become something, doesn’t love something, doesn’t be something. She remains a stone, unmoving and unyielding as the Earth spins on it’s axis, forever going forward in some direction without purpose.
Her trajectory is neither upwards nor downwards, just stagnant with wondering of a different future. She gets a job, finds a husband, has 2.5 kids and dies from natural causes.
It’s not a bad almost , it’s not bad at all, but it is—
—lacking?
No.
Wrong. The word I’m looking for is wrong .
It’s wrong, thank god. Thank god and thank all that it is wrong and never comes to be because it’s one almost that Roxanne can’t handle. It’s one almost that Roxanne is so grateful just doesn’t happen.
She is a s stone, yes. But Megamind is the wave, that comes crashing down, comes eroding away a path for them to call their own, a place where they meet, a place to call theirs, a place where—
—they almost become one and almost fall in love and maybe they do and maybe they mean to, but everything that keeps apart in this time, in the one where he spins her axis backwards is that because of them. Not fate, not destiny, not anything else, but them being stupid and them living life—
This story of almosts between Megamind and Roxanne is truly self inflicted.
They almost meet when they are nine years old. Almost, just barely, not really, you see.
The story goes that the Ritchis are new in town and Mr. Ritchi gets a contract to work at the city prison. He’s a social worker. There’s a school near the prison. Perfect to be close to his young daughter in case of an emergency. And the little alien boy who happens to live in the prison apparently goes to the same school. Even more perfect, Mr. Ritchi thinks.
A guaranteed friend for his daughter, the bright eyed and ever curious little Roxanne. He seems sweet, the alien boy despite growing up in a prison, and maybe it’s his social worker’s calling, but he thinks—
—maybe if his daugher and this boy become friends it will change their lives for the better.
Roxanne has a hard time making friends after all. She’s too smart for her own good and blunt and maybe she needs someone to challenge her because heaven knows that she’s bored with just about everything. And he’s read this boy’s file. It’s big and rubber banded a few times, but he’s smart too. Clever and creative and he can see something really bloom.
He’s so eager to try. So, so, eager to try.
So, he signs the forms with his wife’s consent and together they take their darling daughter, the smartest kid they know for her first day at her new school, Lil’ Gifted.
And, Megamind and Roxanne almost meet, that one fateful day. She’s excited to meet people like her, just as bright and curious and a little different. She’s excited, jumping in her seat in the backseat of the car, asking question after question.
“Will I make friends?”
“Is this a magnet school?”
“Do you think we’ll learn chemistry and how to blow stuff up?”
The story goes that the Ritchis step out of the car, Roxanne’s pig tails swishing in the wind and she’s wearing her best sneakers and overalls for this lovely spring day. She picked her outfit herself. It has a lighting bolt on the front pocket with a dark thundercloud. She likes electricty a lot. Her favorite thing is static glass ball she can touch.
The gravel crunches under her feet with the first step she takes and she—
—doesn’t take a second step, her parents throwing their arms around her automatically because a blue cloud bursts from all the windows and door of the little red schoolhouse and her jaw hangs open as—
All she can see is blue and sirens come flashing and a little boy her age is flying and he’s holding another boy dressed in orange who is cackling because the other boy is blue and everyone is blue. Blue, blue, blue just like him.
The real blue boy, blue as in her favorite color, blue as in the sky and sea combined, the one who didn’t get blasted by the cloud, is placed in handcuffs before he happily beams, as if he wanted to happen. Roxanne’s parents are busy talking to the police for a few minutes and she’s standing by herself, not covered in blue. The blue boy notices her finally when his gaze catches her and his eyes are so green and pretty and—
—he grins at her, opening his mouth as if he’s about to say something before her mother snatches her away, tugging on her hand, twisting her body to look the other way.
(“Good thing you didn’t come to school yet,” little Megamind almost says.)
Roxanne wants to look back, she wants to yank her arm away, she wants to ask why did you make a paint bomb? why are you blue? your fish is really cool, did it just talk? why are you wearing a prison uniform? why? why? why?
She doesn’t. Can’t really. Fate forces them in seperate directions.
In the end, the story goes that Mr. Ritchi ends his contract with the Metro City prison before it even begins. The story goes that Roxanne goes to a public school not too far from her neighborhood where she is less bored than her last school, but bored all the same. The story goes if they would have met sooner, maybe everything would have changed.
She’s near, he’s near, they’re almost eighteen years old and life is about to happen , but not quite.
They meet when they’re younger, freshman with new ideas. Maybe fresh starts for something extraordinary, a tinge of hope that they don’t want to admit, but it’s there, lurking and waiting and—
—Roxanne no longer wears lighting blots or overalls or her hair in pigtails. She wears nice long skirts and wakes up to curl her hair in the morning. She’s pretty, she learns. And still smart, not different, but ambitious. Someone to be groomed to become greater than she already is. That’s the hope they place in her. She wears it like a blinding badge and refuses to be anything lesser.
Megamind is hopeful in a secret way, doesn’t say that he wishes he wasn’t as lonely or as different or as bored as he really is, but he never says it. He almost does, almost gives in. Gives in as in that way that you can’t take back, but doesn’t. Can’t. Won’t. Minion would hate him. So, he doesn’t. Almost, but doesn’t. No one has hope for him save for he and Minon and well, he learns that’s okay. That’s all he needs. He will keep his hope preciously close to his heart and won’t let anyone know that it exists. He can’t.
His world and Roxanne’s world circle each other, orbit like bodies around a sun and he’s not sure if that’s poetic or sadistic or both. He likes it though. They share just about every class together, but they don’t sit together. They are in the same room, breathing the same air, but they are never quite so near.
(He likes her in the way that young men like young women and he won’t say anything about it either. It’s something special, just for him.)
Well, he is almost near her and she is almost near him, but she sits in the front and he in the back and—
The almost between them is shattered in a single moment beginning their senior year when Roxanne actually sits next to him on a random Tuesday in their honors English class. She sets her bag beside her chair and starts to pile her things on top of the desk. Places her textbook off the corner, her notebook smack dab in the middle, with her pens precisely perched by it’s side. Megamind watches her out of the corner of his eye, curious and heart thudding in his chest as he pretends that he’s not staring whatsoever.
Roxanne takes a deep breath and shifts in her sit, twists to face him and crosses her ankles. Megamind follows her movement and turns his torso to face her, being at least somewhat polite. He hopes that she speaks first because he doesn’t think he’ll be able to form words.
(She is...really beautiful and her eyes burn with blue fire and her gaze is solely on him and he wants to run, run, run, run, because why is she looking at him?)
She smiles, predatory and determined. “Two things,” she starts, straight to the point and efficient. “First, will you tutor me in physics?”
She doesn’t ask can he tutor her in physics, doesn’t doubt his ability, doesn’t have to wonder how good he is at physics. Just ask will despite the fact they haven’t really spoken despite being caught in a gravitation pull of elevated high school education.
He knows that she’s ambitious and cunning. Clever and understands the phrase a “means to an end”. They don’t need to speak for him to see the way she carries herself, self-assured and confident, comfortable in her own skin as she takes charge—control of this committee, enforcing rules here, organizing practically every event.
It’s...overwhelming. To watch her seize control of everything.
A second skips and she’s looking at him, waiting for his answer. As if he ever had a choice when she settled in the desk besides him, encroaching in his space, a faint spicy perfume filling the air.
“Sure. I’ll help you,” he says. How he isn’t sure, he can barely hear his voice over his heartbeat.
Her smile softens and she looks relieved. She places a well manicured hand over her heart. “Oh thank god,” she breathes. “I wasn’t sure if you’d turn me down.”
Megamind finally twists completely, feeling more at ease and chokes back a laugh. “I doubt you’d let me. You’re,” he pauses, averting his eyes for a moment, “slightly terrifying.”
She laughs and leans forward. “I’m terrifying? You do realize you have a death stare, right?”
He shrugs, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I might practice it every day, give or take.” She grins and he feels light, kinda breathless and asks. “What’s the second thing?”
Roxanne snaps her fingers. “Oh yeah. The second thing. Will you be my partner for the midterm project?”
It catches him by surprise, the way she asks, as if it’s natural to ask. A simple something to forget because it’s not a big deal. She looks at him patiently, leans almost if she’s on the edge of her seat, waiting for him to respond again. It’s—
For the first time in a long while, Megamind slowly smiles and has something to be outwardly hopeful for. He nods and pulls out a piece of paper. “What’s the plan?”
And this is the start of the almosts between Megamind and Roxanne. Two teenagers wavering between youth and adulthood. He almost doesn’t walk her to their next class, but does so anyway. It’s more fun, he learns, to walk to class with someone and talk with them.
She finds him oddly funny. Throws back her head with laughter and playfully smacks him on the arm. “I know that Tesla has done a lot for science, but I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone pray to him before!”
“Well, let me tell you. At least with Tesla you have you proof of his genius.”
He almost can ignore the way people stare at them for the day as they travel from class to class together, but he can’t. Roxanne does though, it seems, pretends it’s not happening. Enjoys the quiet of a lunch outside and doesn’t mind not speak as she’s engrossed with a book. Sits next to him and diligently takes notes, turning to him on occasion to whisper something here or there. It’s odd. And different and it’s almost amazing, but instead it’s tinged with unease through its very threading.
The last bell rings and everyone packs up to get home and—
Megamind softly calls after Roxanne, needing to understand. She turns around with her strap snug on her shoulder, her head tilted to the side, waiting for him to continue. People linger at the doorway though, including Wayne Scott, his eyes ever following from the edges of the hall. Roxanne follows his line of sight, turning her chin over her shoulder and she fidgets with the material at the hem of her shirt.
When she looks back at him, she has a frustrated smile. “Walk me to my car, yeah?”
Megamind nods wordlessly, picks up his own backpack and follows her out the door. Metro Dude hangs in the air, his eyes narrowing as he sees the pair, but Roxanne scowls and motions him to go away.
It’s a tense few moments, the journey from the hallway to outside, but when the afternoon sun hits them, Roxanne turns around and walks backwards, groaning. “I’m so sorry. About that. This? I know that this is awkward and um…”
Roxanne rambles about awkwardness, going in circles how she didn’t mean make him feel uncomfortable. As if she can make him feel uncomfortable. She rambles and her hands are flying in every direction and Megamind’s eyes wander to the cracked sidewalk that juts upwards and—
Roxanne stumbles backwards, yelping, and Megamind lurches forward, his hand tightening around her upper arm and stabling her up right. He holds her bicep for a few moments, holding on her gaze before a cracks a smile and starts laughing. She starts laughing too and walks beside him instead.
“So, as I was saying , you know, before I apparently was meant to die, I’m sorry.”
There are less people in the parking lot and Megamind doesn’t feel so many eyes on him. It makes him more at ease, content even as her red sedan comes into view.
“Why are you sorry? It’s—”
“It’s just weird that I’d want to hang out with you all of a sudden?” she rushes, hoping, pleading. “Maybe?”
He awkwardly laughs. “Yeah, maybe,” he agrees. His lips press thin though. “I don’t mind you wanting to hang out with me, quite the opposite really, just everyone is so damn annoying and well, it was fun, to hang out with someone.”
“Well—” she hesitates and then stops, leaning on her car frame. “Can I tell you something?”
Megamind tilts his head to the side. “Sure?”
Roxanne takes a deep breath. “I’m honestly bored with everyone and you’re just not boring at all.”
“...thank you?”
He really doesn’t know what else to say. That’s a compliment, right?
“No, really! It’s true! You’re smart and clever and interesting . I can actually talk to you. About books. And things,” she trails, trying to find her words. “I think you’re cool, Megamind, and I want to hang out with you. Is that okay?”
Oh dear—the way the sun is shining in her hair and she’s propped up against her car and all the movies he’s seen about teenagers and—
He chokes and spurts. “Are you asking me out on a date?!”
Roxanne immediately blushes. “I don’t think so?” she cries, sound just as baffled. “I think I’m asking you to be my friend! I don’t know, I don’t usually ask people to be my friends!”
Megamind feels himself blushing too, trailing down his neck and shoulders. “Well, people don’t usually want to be friends with me,” he says quietly.
He stills when she puts a hand on his arm. “I do. Like I said, I think you’re cool. And who knows, maybe I’ll really ask you out on a date.”
He rolls his eyes, feeling himself smile despite himself. “What’s it called, a friend date?”
She grins. “Yeah, maybe one of those too.”
The afternoon sun is warm and friendly, just like Roxanne is friendly and—
The distance between them closes as they spend more time together. Megamind helps her with her physics, they have lunch together, do homework together, walk from classes together.
After the first few days, people stop staring and instead come up to them. To talk sometimes, or see how they’re doing. Or ever ask Megamind what he got on his homework. He—kinda has more friends? In passing.
Needless to say, Minion is proud of him and is excited about Roxanne.
(The first time they meet, Roxanne comments on how handsome a fish Minon is and said fish preens for days.)
She worms her way through all his layers, claws through his defenses and makes him weak in the knees when she smiles. His heart beats and beats and beats for days and—
She actually does ask him out on a date. To the homecoming dance.
And almost comes back and rear it’s ugly head as Megamind stands on the street corner near Roxanne’s house. He’s wearing all black from his sports jacket to his shoes, he’s never felt more alive than in this moment.
But, and there will always be a but because this is a story of almost.
His heart is breaking in his chest when he sees a boy similar to himself go up to another girl’s house and ring the doorbell that Megamind realizes just how wrong he is to be there. Roxanne shouldn’t—can’t—she can’t like him not because he doubts her, but because it isn’t right and she should be, should be—
(With someone like her. Intelligent, kind, normal. Human.)
(He did think that maybe he could maybe kiss her at the end of the night and that was where all the trouble began, that he could kiss like he had a right to that he—
could kiss her and be happy.)
Megamind almost goes up to Roxanne’s door and rings the bell, wanting happiness to warm his skin, but doesn’t. Megamind almost explains himself the following Monday at school when Roxanne demands answers, wanting to salvage everything he ruined, but doesn’t. Megamind almost tells her he’s fallen in love with her, almost kisses her in the moment, but doesn’t.
He can’t.
He almost does a lot of things, but the almost friendship/relationship/thing is too much to bear for him and so it’s easier to pretend it never happens.
(Not like he forgets. He almost wishes he could forget, but doesn’t.)
She escapes, running two at a time up the stairs until she breaks free to feel the fresh air hit her face. Roxanne lets out a shaky breathy, her arms thrown wide as her heels click on the hotel's rooftop. She just—needed to run away, leave the party before she's trapped because the walls are closing in and—
—the Metro Man Museum is set to open next week and she doesn't think she can handle one more invasive question about her "relationship" with said superhero. She just needs to breathe.
There is no wind, but a slight pleasant chill as she walks towards the railing, her long red gown skimming the concrete flooring. The lights in the city are beautiful, twinkling like the stars she can't see and it makes her heart twists.
Sometimes she wishes she can escape from the city too, run away from being a damsel, the show, the game, her life on display. But she doesn’t see it stopping, battles only getting more elaborate as the skates go higher.
Her ears still ring with the overwhelming chatter of the ballroom down below, the intense laughter, the straining pompous and classical music, the way people say Metro Man as if Wayne is a god instead of a normal person.
(She hates the way he responds too. Chipper and deceitful. She knows he hates being a superhero more than anything else and yet, he continues this charade.
Destiny he said. It was destiny. Good is to rise up against evil and this—this is his destiny.)
Roxanne sighs, in her heart praying that every brilliant streetlight she sees could be real stars that could grant all her deepest desires, but wishes are heard by electricity unfortunately.
When she finally turns around, she almost screams, but instead lays a hand over her racing heart. "Megamind," she breathes.
The supervillain in questions looks awkwardly at her, in mid step as if he was about to run away yet stops when he is caught. In an instance, he straightens and straightens his collar, schooling his sheepish look into a smirk. "Miss Ritchi, we meet again."
She scoffs and crosses her arms over her chest, and leans against the railing once more. "So it would seem," she says. "Off to unleash some devious plan?"
Megamind laughs and waggles a finger. "Oh ho, nosy reporter. You'll shall get no answers out of me."
Roxanne rolls her eyes and tilts her head to the side, eyes closed, stretching her neck as she badly wants to readjust the sweetheart neckline of her dress. "Whatever you say, supergenius. Anyway, are you here to kidnap me or what?" she says rubbing the side of her neck.
When Megamind doesn't answer, she opens her eyes to find him staring at her, slightly blushing before abruptly turning as he is caught gawking. He coughs once before giving his attention back to Roxanne and looks as composed as usual.
"Actually, you weren't on the list of potential victims tonight, Miss Ritchi. I have other people to terrorize besides you."
Roxanne quirks a brow and moves towards him, feeling extremely brave. Usually, if this was an actual kidnapping, she would have already been knocked out by now, so Megamind has to be telling the truth. She knows from experience though, that if he's caught off guard, that things with Megamind get particularly—interesting.
She stops until she is about a foot away from him, hands behind her back. "And yet here you are, on the same rooftop as me. Makes a girl wonder, Megamind."
Megamind blinks and sputters. "Mi-Miss Ritchi, I'd have you know that I was only passing through to check on some things and you just happened to be here."
She gives him a small smile. “Whatever you say, Megamind.”
He huffs, patting on his person for what is most likely a smoke bomb when Roxanne grabs his wrist, happy that there are no spikes on his gloves. She doesn’t want to say why she’s happy, she can’t, but—she’ll take interesting if she can get it.
Megamind stares down at her, the white of her skin a stark contrast to the black leather. He looks up at her then, eyes wide and doesn’t try to move away.
“What are you doing?” he whispers.
Roxanne hums a moment, a thought in the sound, before accepting spontaneity and grinning. “Kidnapping you, I think.”
“A kidnapping,” he balks, his voice on the edge of laughter. “This is a pretty weak kidnapping, Miss Ritchi. Especially to try and kidnap someone so dangerous such as myself.”
Roxanne is not very strong, but she grabs his other wrist and holds it too, closing the distance between them. “Well, I don’t need force to kidnap you. Something about how I affect those with weak willed minds and how I’d be an amazing Evil Queen, if I recall.”
It’s an odd moment when Megamind takes in her words and then throws his head back laughing loudly. Not evil, diabolical laughter, but actual laughter that makes his eyes crinkle. Roxanne’s heart quickens. She just needs to shift, needs things to be different. She’s wants to find out what this is.
When he settles down, he takes a deep breath. “Okay, Miss Ritchi, what is your evil plot for this kidnapping? Trying to unspur me from my coveted place of super villain, are you?
She ponders his words for a moment and then smiles, sliding her hands to grip his fingers. "Dance with me."
Megamind all but jumps out of his skin, almost tugs away, but doesn’t. "Dance with you? Why in the world would you want to dance with me!"
Roxanne shrugs, ignoring the slight sting, "A spur of the moment thing, but—" she starts to say, before his fingers curl around hers.
She stills and finds Megamind staring at her, eyes burning and the pressure of his hands gentle. “...there’s no music...” he admits after a thoughtful moment.
Roxanne’s heart swells in her chest as she takes a step closer. She lays a hand at his shoulder and uses her other one to hold his. “I’m sure we’ll manage.”
Moonlight washes over them, outlines them with silver. Megamind can surprisingly dance well, light on his feet and sways her to follow a loose waltz. His touch barely skims the small of her back, warming her through the material, making her want and long for something she can’t quite place.
He grins, his smile dazzling and his eyes sparkling. “You’re right about the music.”
She beams. “I’m right about a lot of things.”
He laughs and twirls her. “Only sometimes Miss Ritchi.”
This moment is perfect, Roxanne thinks. She thinks back to when she was a young girl, thinks back to when she saw a schoolhouse explode. Thinks back to when she sat next to a boy in school. Thinks back to a lot of things. Megamind has always been blurry at his edges, just slightly out of reach as he skips away.
If only—
If only she could freeze this moment and let it continue, stand up on her tiptoes and—
“--kiss you,” she says, lost in the motion as streetlamps that are twinkling starlight spin like mad around her.
Megamind freezes, his arms stiff and his expression blown open. “What?”
Her words finally echo into her ears and she swallows thick, truth trembling at her lips. “I just—I want to kiss you.”
And it’s a story of almost, you see, a story where she knows that Megamind could have leaned forward and kissed her like people in movies do. Smiled and said a snarky comment. Put his lips atop hers and held her close. Follow this moment to wherever it might lead.
But he doesn’t and she doesn’t get the chance to as one moment she blinks and Megamind has a fragile smile that looks like it’s about to shatter any second. He almost leans forward, not down but to pause at her forehead, his words warm.
“Good night, Miss Ritchi,” he says.
And she blinks once more, the world covered in smoke and—
He’s gone.
(She almost cries, almost screams, but Roxanne reminds herself that just like the young girl left long waiting long ago, the almost between Roxanne and Megamind is not meant to be.)
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When It Feels Right
Pairing: Lamont Diggs x Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader
Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. SMUT. PWP, cursing, protected PIV, oral (female receiving) fingering (female receiving) teasing/mocking, size kink, dirty talk, praise kink, all consensual. Use of n-word. Drug use.
Summary: Lamont invited you to his studio to help work on his new beat. You help him in more ways than one.
Word Count: 5,057k
A/N: Hello, my loves. I have been feral for this man since watching this show. This was LONG overdue. This is the winner of the Fic poll, thank you to everyone who voted! ONE SHOT. Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!
Taglist: @planetblaque @babybratzmaraj @browngirldominion @we-outsiiiide @iv0rysoap @thecookiebratz @wide-nose-and-wonderful @hereformiles @flydotty @blackerthings @notapradagurl7
Lamont released a heavy cloud of smoke in the air. You bobbed your head to the new beat he made. Lamont matched your bobbing head, a slow grin working its way across his face. You rolled your eyes and turned away from him, trying to feel the beat without him coloring your opinion.
Just because he was your best friend didn’t mean that you couldn’t lay down the truth when needed. The good Lord knew that he didn’t need an even bigger head.
As the beat faded and came to a close, Lamont clapped his hands in the too silent studio. It was a rare night where he didn’t have Melissa, couldn’t sleep, and his boys weren’t in the background smoking up all the weed.
“Go on and tell me that’s hot!” He yelled and clapped his hands again. He played with a few switches on the switchboard and then swung his chair to face you. You swung idly on your own chair, back and forth.
You gave him a funny look, not willing to admit that it was good. Of course it was good. Dude really knew his fucking craft.
“It’s aight,” you said and dismissed him with a wave.
“Bullshit!” Lamont yelled. The joint hung from his lips as his long, delicate fingers flew over switches and knobs and he ran the track back. The deep bass thumped through the speakers once more and he turned to you, brows furrowing to gauge your reaction.
“Damn, I’m playing!” You said and giggled. You pushed away from his too intense stare. He sucked his teeth and pushed you back.
“Tell me what you really think, damn,” he said.
“Nah, that shit is fire, Lamont. Seriously, you tore this up,” you said.
“Thanks, thanks. Just need some dope lyrics on it. Tired of them mumble rapper m’fucka’s,” Lamont said.
He shook his head, his locs tussling over his face and dropping into his eyes. Your hand itched to push it away so you could continue looking at him. You swung your chair away from him so that your face didn’t give you away. It was the weed talking, nothing more.
You played with the sleeves of your sweater, swinging around and around in circles until his studio became a dizzy array of green and red. Like Christmas. That was a much safer line of thinking. You could think about lights, gingerbread houses, and pinecones and not about how Lamont’s lips poked out, ready to be kissed.
Lamont turned down the beat and deposited the joint in the nearby ashtray. The smell was loud, filling your senses with its aroma. You smacked his shoulder as you passed him and then smacked it again until he relented and handed it to you.
You took a lungful, holding it in and rolling it around your tongue before releasing it back out into the studio. You watched the smoke lift towards the popcorn ceiling, wishing it would take your thoughts with it. You smoked so that your brain could pause like a TV show. So that you could stop to take in the details around you and make sense of it.
Your stomach turned and roiled so you stuck your foot out to slow your spins. Lamont was on his phone scrolling through Instagram.
“You always on that damn phone,” you said, grinning as you realized that you sounded like your mama.
“Okay, Ms. Etta,” he said.
“Shut up! That is not my mama name!”
Lamont peeked at you from the curtain of his locs and smirked, holding out his hand for the joint. You took one last inhale, the burning embers at the end filling your peripheral vision before you handed it back to him. He dumped the ashes and then took a puff, putting it down on the ashtray.
Lamont returned his attention back to his phone, head slightly bouncing to the beat he made. Your eyes slowly tracked over all of the mini orange, red, and green lights blinking from the switchboard.
This was the kind of laid back music that would be in a lounge somewhere. Your mind’s eye filled in details of blue ambient lighting. Black men and women and those in between dressed in their finest business casual. Men in deep, monochromatic suits and shiny shoes. Women in dresses a hair shy of too short, showing off long, thick legs and strappy high heels.
You pictured glasses clinking, words whispered amongst friends, and glances thrown across the room. Ballers sending trays of drinks to the group of women at the bar knowing exactly what they were doing by leaning over it.
It was a type of sexy beat that you felt in your inner thighs first. The thrumming bass making your thighs jiggle. Warming heat working its way up your spine until you couldn’t help but nod your head, bump your shoulders, and look at your friend to see if they were feeling the beat like you were.
You turned to Lamont, ready to tell him, when his nose was buried in his phone again. You groaned and reached out to slap your hand over the phone.
“You said you wanted no distractions tonight, remember?” You asked.
“I’m done with the beat though,” he said. He moved his phone out of your way and you leaned over a little further to try and snatch it from his fingers. His arms were longer than yours and he easily held it away from you.
“You said not to let you get distracted. Hand it here,” you said. You snapped your fingers. Lamont shook his head, his locs whipping across his face. His gold chain glinted in the low lighting and it was stark against his white T-shirt, dyed green in the studio lighting.
“You ain’t gon’ snap yo fingers like you somebody,” he said.
“I AM! SOME-BODY!” You cackled at your own joke, eyes wide and smiling so big that your cheeks ached.
“Goofy ass. You need to stay off this shit,” he said.
“Boo, you’re no fun,” you said. You continued to reach across the short space between you, trying to reach his phone. You were high, but not that high. Your thoughts were coherent and slow. Like you could pluck each of them out and lay them on a blanket. That you could take your time and choose between them like choosing your outfit.
“C’mon, watch out,” he said. He nudged you back but you were undeterred. Your tongue stuck out of your mouth, so deep in your concentration. Lamont chuckled, effortlessly fighting you off.
You huffed and you huffed but you could not blow this wolf down. You sat back in the seat and sighed. “For real, Lamont. I did not come over here, at midnight, just for you to play on your phone. I wanna see some magic,” you said.
“Girl, I just showed yo ass the Magic Kingdom,” he said.
You laughed at his corny ass line and shook your head. “One beat is all you got?” You asked.
“All I got?” Lamont scoffed, affronted that you would even suggest such a thing.
You inwardly grinned, using your knowledge of him to your advantage. He always rose to the occasion. He was almost too easy as he sat forward in his seat. His left hand dropped the phone in between you while he focused on the board once more.
Where you only saw switches and gears, he saw instruments. This board was a modern orchestra and he knew exactly which sounds to pull from it. Which drums sounded dirty enough to warrant adding snares and strings.
You snatched his phone from beside him. He instantly balked, trying to get it back from you. You didn’t have the length he did, so you had to resort to putting it behind your back and trying to slide your chair away from him.
He put one hand on your chair to stop your retreat and then the other went in search of his missing phone.
“C’mon, stop playing!” He laughed as he struggled to get the phone from you.
You only had so many places to stick it. You kept moving it like you were playing hot potato with it, tossing it from one hand to the other. “You come on! I know why you call me here. So I can keep yo ass focused!”
“I focus just fine without you. Ever think I just want your company?” He asked.
“Duh, you always want my company,” you teased, still moving the phone every two seconds while he lunged for it. A giddy feeling swelled in your chest like a balloon, filling up all of your hollow crevices and giving you the feeling of floating despite feeling heavy.
“Always? You loud and wrong,” he said. He sat back with a huff, eying you. You grinned, looking for any type of eye twitch or flicker. Anything to indicate that he would make a sudden move and try to snatch it from you.
“Oh? I guess I should just leave then,” you said. You leaned out of the chair, butt hovering over the seat that was practically molded to your ass by now. You felt a few twinges. The side effect of sitting too long. All this cushion in your ass didn’t mean shit.
“Man, sit yo ass down and hand me my phone. Please?” Lamont asked. But the please was not sincere. You stuck out your tongue while you placed the phone down your shirt.
The warm metal laid across your skin and you grinned at Lamont’s expression. His face kind of froze. Or paused while he stared at your chest. It was nothing new for the two of you, so you couldn’t name why it made your belly flip.
“You think that’s gon’ stop me?” He asked. Was it you or did his voice get a little deeper? A little rougher?
You adjusted the phone against your cleavage and threw up your hands. “What you gon’ do?” You asked.
Lamont licked his lips, a small smile forming on his lips. “You know I can just turn you upside down and shake you like a toy?”
Nope. That did not make your pussy flutter. You did not imagine shaking for entirely different reasons.
There was always this thickness between you and Lamont. A sort of sticky, gooey middle that kept you glued to his side all these years. You had been friends for so long, you didn’t remember the exact number. Where one went, there went the other. There was always a lingering look, a hand on the hip placed too long, a bite to the lip.
You never crossed the line. The timing was never right. Either you were with somebody or he was. He was nursing your broken heart while you were getting him turnt up for his. He had an entire baby with Mia who had him wrapped around her tiny manicured pinky. Despite his protests otherwise.
Now. Now you were both single. Unattached. No messy drama getting in the way.
“Whatever, Lamont. I am here to keep you on track,” you said. You shook your head and smacked your lips. “Literally and figuratively.”
“Gimme my phone,” he said, that same rough voice dancing along the sticky gooeyness that made your toes curl. He didn’t need to see the way you looked down trying to get yourself under control.
“What you gon’ do?” You asked, rolling your neck for emphasis.
He smiled and shook his head. He waved his fingers in a ‘come on’ gesture and you smacked his hand.
“What you gon’ do? What you gon’ do?” You kept asking, waiting for him to reply. To say something. Anything. You were tossing out the question like a fishing line, baiting him with delicious chum. With the irresistible urge to either latch on and let you know that it wasn’t just you or toss it aside and let it drop once and for all.
“Say it one more time and I’ll show you what I’m gon’ do,” he said.
“What you gon’ do?” You said slowly, enunciating each word so there were no misunderstandings.
Lamont’s hand shot out and pulled your fuzzy sweater away from your chest. His other hand snuck up your shirt and went fishing around for his phone. But his hands roamed too broadly, lightly squeezing your titty every so often.
“Lamont!” You yelled.
He licked his lips and got closer. His breath fanned across your face, a subtle mix of candy and weed. His hand continued to roam while he slowly closed the distance between your lips. He looked at you the entire time, giving you ample opportunity to back away.
But you wanted this. You casted that fishing line out into the ether, so you closed the distance for him. You pressed your lips against his finally. Your dreams didn’t come close. It was nothing like what you thought it would be and everything you dreamt it could.
His lips were soft against yours. Smooth tongue running over your lips and sloppily slanting against yours. You hummed, low and softly but you were sure he heard it. His hands continued to roam under your shirt, no longer seeking his phone.
Instead, his hands found your breasts and began to knead them, fingers grappling for your nipple. As soon as his fingers found that little pebble – no bra because you hadn’t felt like throwing on one just to chill with Lamont – he squeezed and rolled it between his fingers.
“Oh shit,” you said against his lips, finally pulling back far enough to get some air. Some room.
“Mhm,” he moaned. “You think I ain’t been paying attention these past few years?” He asked.
“Wh-what you mean?” You asked. He rolled his lips around yours, kissing you but only just so. His wide nose danced against yours. One thing about high sex that you loved was how sensitive you became. How the little hairs on your skin picked up the different changes in temperature or tingled with every brush of skin.
“All them nasty ass stories you liked to tell. About how men never hit it how you like,” he said.
He switched his hand to your other titty, seeking your nipple a lot faster. He rolled it in between your fingers and your breath stuttered.
Already, he was leagues better than half the guys you’d been with. Or perhaps it was your lingering, previously unclaimed chemistry, doing most of the work for you. This was inevitable. Your lips would always meet his. His hands would always press into your skin.
“You remember that?” You asked.
“Kept hoping it would be me in one of them stories. ‘Cept, I know what I’m doin’,” he said.
You giggled and pushed away from him. “Big fuckin’ words, boy,” you said.
Lamont had a playful frown on his face, considering your words, before he slapped his hands onto the arm rests of your chair. He caged you in your chair while he leaned down for more kisses.
His lips were like little clouds of heaven. Each one sweet, soft, and lazy. He lowered himself to his knees, still too tall for his own good. He kept kissing you, even while his hands went roaming again.
He pulled your sweater off and took in the white tank underneath. His lips found yours again as if he didn’t want to be gone too long. He mixed in nips and licks to keep you on your toes. He grabbed his phone from out of your tank and placed it on the edge of the switch board.
He returned his attention to your body, kissing and biting you through the fabric of your tank. You felt him, but you didn’t really feel him. You lifted the tank and threw it over your head.
Cool air from the studio hit your upper body and you immediately shivered. Even with the thumping beat and lingering smoke, you weren’t warm enough. Lamont helped you lower your leggings and panties, pulling them off and throwing them across the room.
You were fully naked, staring into his dark eyes while he was still dressed. He leaned back, took in your curves, dips, and valleys with a satisfied grin.
“So that’s what you look like underneath all them damn sweaters. You been keepin’ this from me?” He asked.
He rubbed the goosebumps from your arms, scooting in between your legs and making you spread them wider to accommodate him. He looked you in the eye while he lifted one leg, kissed it, ran his tongue right behind your knee before placing it on the arm rest.
You felt ready to explode. He did the same to your other leg, but trailed more kisses down the length of it before placing it on the arm rest.
“You gon’ answer me?” He asked.
“Waat?” You asked.
He chuckled. “You were just gon’ keep hiding this from me?” He asked.
“I-I wasn’t trynna hide it,” you said. Your words were slow to form and even slower to get out.
“You wasn’t? Then why I ain’t never get a taste yet?” He asked.
He leaned across your body. His cotton shirt was almost too rough against your skin. You hissed, moving away from him but he moved forward anyway. The shirt tickled your skin but you didn’t have enough air in your lungs to giggle.
Anticipation flipped in your belly, like it was playing hopscotch in there. You didn’t know what he was going to do next. You were on an infinite precipice of waiting.
He didn’t make you wait long. He kissed you, moving his hands between you to brush his fingers along your wet seam. You jerked in the chair but he had you effectively pinned. You had nowhere to go. Trapped in the chair with him covering your naked body.
You moaned, licked your lips in between kisses, and then went back to feeling those sexy lips on yours.
His fingers pushed in, separating your pussy lips and dipping into your heated essence. He moaned into your lips, tugging on your bottom lip. “You always get this wet?” He asked.
“Uh-uh,” you said.
“No? I just bring that out of you?” He asked.
“Uh-huh,” you said. You had no words. With every swipe of his fingers, he pulled them out of your head. Each pass of his fingers around your clit made one more word disappear like air.
“So that means I get to taste it right?” He asked. He moved his nose against yours and you sighed, your pussy clenching around nothing.
“Uh-huh,” you said, lips finding his again and again. His wet, suckling kisses made you see stars behind your eyelids.
His knuckle nudged into your clit and you hissed, releasing the air in short bursts. “Oh, she a little excited,” he said.
“Oh shit,” you moaned. “Don’t tease me.”
“Don’t tease you? I like teasing you. I finally know how to shut that attitude up,” he said.
“You too damn cocky,” you moaned.
“Still running that mouth,” he said. He moved his fingers to dip in and out of your pussy, pushing his fingers deep to his knuckle. Your mouth dropped open, eyes turned bruising.
He moved his lips to your jaw and kissed down to your neck. He sprinkled kisses across your chest and then licked your nipple into his mouth, suckling. “Oh my god,” you gasped, back lifting from the chair.
Your pussy greedily sucked his fingers inside. “That’s right. Grip them fingers. Show me you like what I’m doing to you. Getting wetter over here, I’m gon’ have to buy a new chair,” he whispered around your nipple.
Your hands came up to play with his locs, rolling them between your fingers and loving the feel of them. You were in sensory overload. Everything was too much and not enough. Lamont’s filthy words had you screaming towards a climax, thighs shaking and pussy gripping him tighter.
“That’s fuckin’ right. Been dyin’ to know what you look like when you cum. You gon’ look like that riding this dick? Huh? How many pretty faces can you make while I’m rearranging your guts?” He asked.
“Lamont!” You twitched.
He continued to pump his fingers as you calmed down. It was like he was exploring your pussy with his fingers. Trying to gauge how deep you could take him. Your grip tightened around his neck and he hummed, flicking his tongue against your nipple.
When you relaxed against the chair, Lamont slowed down his fingers until stopping altogether. He licked his fingers and moaned. “Taste so fuckin’ good. You doing okay?” He asked.
You nodded, loosening your grip on his neck. You wiped up run away drool, feeling a bit embarrassed that a little finger action made you cum quicker than a man in a porn store.
Lamont shook his head, shaking the locs from his face as he pressed his face into your pussy. He took a loud, deep breathe and blew air between your pussy lips.
“Oh shit!” You screamed, hands flying back to his head. You gripped his hair while he began to eat you out in earnest, using his tongue first.
He leaned back and hummed, slapped your pussy. “Damn,” he moaned. “So fuckin’ good.” He was a messy eater, digging in like it was his last meal. His lips wrapped around your clit and sucked. He brought his hands up to roll your nipples between his fingers, squeezing and squeezing until he pinched them.
“Fuck, fuck. Lamont! Damn,” you moaned, biting your lip. Fuck! It felt too good. So damn good with his lips between your thighs and his locs tickling your skin, and your hands digging into his head. Smashing his face into your pussy, giving him free rein to explore this thing between you.
“Name sound sexy on your lips. Say it again,” he said, coming up for a bite of air.
“Lamont,” you said with a grin. His eyes flicked to yours while he continued to make out with your pussy.
“Again,” he said, muffled against your wet core.
Lamont!” You moaned while your orgasm was cresting the surface. Pressure built in your lower belly, getting so close with each new flick. Each new lick. Each new moan that told you he liked what was between your thighs. The thought that you could please him, even by the small act of being wet for him, turned the tide.
Your hand flew back to the back of the chair to steady you while your back arched. “Oh shit, Lamont!” Your neck rolled against the top of the chair while your body twitched and convulsed. Your body turned limp, riding the orgasm wherever it took you. However you looked while you spasmed.
“Tasting so fuckin’ good. Fuck, I been missing out,” Lamonst said into your pussy. He continued to lap like a cat to cream. “So fuckin’ sweet. So fuckin’ good.”
He lumbered to his feet, tossing off his white shirt. His chain bounced against his dark skin. His tattoos were darker still, spread out all over his body. You watched him through slitted eyes while he unzipped his pants.
He freed his dick and rubbed the hardened length. Shit, he was perfect. Big and girthy. It was always the skinniest niggas that packed the biggest punch. It had a slight curve to it and your pussy clenched just seeing it.
He dug into his pocket and grabbed his wallet, flipping it open and grabbing a condom. He tore it open, found the right side, and then pinched the tip. You watched him as he rolled it onto his dick, adjusting here or there until it was fully on.
He pushed your thighs back on the chair. It protested with a loud groan, conflicting with a different beat in the background. Something laid back, lazy, and slow. Light danced over his features while he leaned forward, towering over you bent like a pretzel in his chair.
“You feelin’ aiight?” He asked.
“Yes, nigga!” You said with a smack of your teeth. He chuckled, grabbing your throat with his left hand. Your eyes rolled involuntarily, hand flying to grab his wrist. Not to push him away, but to keep him there. To push for more pressure.
He obliged you, squeezing harder until you were ready to cum just from that. “You must need some dick to get you right,” he said.
“Umph, yesss,” you moaned.
He used his right hand to grip his dick and run it through your damp folds, getting the condom slick with your wetness. He pushed in slowly. You hissed, pushing against his thighs.
“Uh-uh, don’t push me away. Move them hands,” he said.
“But Lamont–”
“Move. Them. Hands,” he growled, getting close to your face and squeezing your neck.
You moved your hands with a whine. He was too damn big. He rolled his hips, sliding inside of you and working his way deeper. Your hands flew back to his thighs, pushing at him.
“Move them fuckin’ hands,” he rasped.
“Please,” you begged. You were going to pass out. There was too much pleasure. Too much desire and lust. Too much of him. His scent, his sighs, his scorching looks. He lit fires in your veins that made you whimper and pout.
“Move them fuckin’ hands right now,” he said.
Again, your hands slid away from his sweat-slick thighs with a whine. The sound was needy and desperate. You had no way of slowing this down. Slowing it down to a pace you could quickly adjust to.
His dick didn’t hurt, he just stretched you deliciously. So much so that you had a goofy smile spread across your lips like icing on a cake. You moved your hands back to his hand on your neck.
He rolled and moved his hips, stroking into you with deep, long thrusts at a steady pace that stole your breath. You whined, choppy hums in your throat. “Why you doin’ this to meeee,” you moaned.
“‘Cause I been waiting too long to get in this pussy. I’ma enjoy that shit,” he said. He smirked and dropped down to kiss you while he stroked deeper still.
You sank onto his dick while he rolled his hips, moaning with every glide. He lifted his head and rolled his neck, closing his eyes. You watched his face while he stroked, watched as he found some type of groove like your body was the switchboard and he was making a complicated beat.
He lined up perfectly. Your back arched. “Oh fuck, oh fuck. Right there, right there, Lamont,” you moaned.
“Right there?” He asked. He kept hitting your sweet spot, not deviating in the slightest.
“Right there, oh my god, I’m gon’ cum,” you moaned.
“Give it to me. Let me feel that pretty pussy grippin’ this dick. She feel so fuckin’ good. Wrapped around this dick. This what you needed? Huh? This what you needed? Them other niggas ain’t have all this for you, did they?”
Each of his questions grew fainter as your orgasm came closer and closer. Your hand pushed against his chest. Your eyes were too far in the back of your head. You were worrying a groove into your bottom lip by biting too hard.
“You still with me? This dick got yo tongue?” He asked.
“I’m-” You came with a loud moan, louder than you had ever moaned before. You twitched in the chair, the groans from it sounded violent. “Oh fuck! Oh fuck! Feel so good, Lamont!” You cried out. Yelled out.
It was a good thing that you were in a proper studio and there was no one around to hear you. Had you been at your place, your neighbors would know his fucking name.
Your hands scratched at his stomach while he chuckled and kept stroking. “Fuck. You squeezin’ the fuck outta me. You ain’t trynna let me go, huh? Now that you know I know how to hit it right. What got you screaming. What got you moaning. What got you cummin’ on this dick like that,” he said.
“Oh baby,” you moaned.
“I’m baby now? What happened to my name?” He asked.
At this point, you didn’t know your own name. You clenched around his dick and he cursed, slamming into you one more time before you felt him twitch inside. You had an errant fantasy about him cumming inside you, spilling his fat load into you and then fucking it into you.
You tucked that particular one to the back of your mind while Lamont dropped against you, loosening his grip around your throat. Your matching pants and gasps made the moment soft but fuzzy around the edges. Like when you first woke up from a good nap and didn’t know what year it was or what you were doing beforehand.
Lamont slipped out of you, stumbling back. He took off the condom, tied the ends, and threw it in the nearest trash can. He sat in own chair. He tucked himself back in but didn’t zip up his pants.
You slowly lowered your legs from the chair, feeling thoroughly fucked out. You looked towards Lamont who was studying you in the same way. He smiled first. Your smile matched his as the gravity of what you just did sunk in.
Sunk down deep into your bones. There was no going back from this. There was no way to pretend this didn’t exist. That he wasn’t just deep enough in your guts to still feel the lingering effects. You felt empty without him.
“We wasted too much fuckin’ time,” he said softly. You nodded and licked your lips.
You tapped the tips of your fingers trying to reorient yourself. Bring yourself down to reality. The reality of you with Lamont. You smiled. “Let’s not waste anymore.”
You had sex again on his red, leather couch. Nasty, intense sex where his hands were back around your throat, he was stroking deep in your guts, and staring into your eyes while he continued to shatter your world over and over again. You grinned and giggled in between his nasty words and your faint pleas for mercy.
You didn’t know what tomorrow would bring, but you were excited to find out.
THE END
Psst, over here! The Secret Lamont Files.
#Megaminds Secret Files#The Secret Lamont Files#Lamont x Black!reader#Lamont x Black reader#x Black reader#Lamont x Fem!reader#Lamont x Fem reader#Lamont x plus size reader#x Fem reader#Lamont x reader#Lamont x you#Lamont imagine#Lamont fanfic#Lamont fan fic#Lamont fanfiction#Lamont fan fiction#Rap Sh!t#Rap Sh t#Rap Sh!t fanfic#Rap Sh!t fan fic#Rap Sh!t fanfiction#Rap Sh!t fan fiction#drug use#drug#cw drugs#cw weed
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Megamind's Secret Files
Please go follow my main account: @megamindsecretlair
AKA: The Masterlist
Since it looks like I'm taking this fic thing seriously, I might as well have this right?
For my Black x Loki peeps:
The Secret Loki Files
For my Black x Bucky peeps:
The Secret Bucky Files
For my Black x Nomad Steve peeps:
The Secret Nomad Steve Files
#masterlist#my writing#fic writing#fanfiction#fanfic#fanfic writing#black reader#black writers#black fanfic writer#black fanfiction#marvel smut#megaminds secret files
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Impossibly Insane
read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2x9k3AC
by daiyu_amaya
Kinktober 2017 ^_^
Words: 865, Chapters: 3/31, Language: English
Fandoms: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia, 妖怪アパートの幽雅な日常 | Elegant Youkai Apartment Life, ナイツ＆マジック | Naitsu to Majikku | Knights & Magic, 名探偵コナン | Detective Conan | Case Closed, 幽☆遊☆白書 | YuYu Hakusho: Ghost Files, Hellsing, Batman: The Animated Series, Megamind (2010), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Flash (TV 2014), 僕と彼女の××× | Boku to Kanojo no Peke Mittsu | Your and My Secret, ゴージャス・カラット | Gōjasu Karatto | Gorgeous Carat, Gorgeous Carat, Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Categories: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Other
Characters: Various Characters
Relationships: Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead/Yamada Hizashi | Present Mic, Hiei/Kuwabara Kazuma, Ashido Mina/Midoriya Izuku, Walter Dornez/Seras Victoria, Hakuba Saguru/Kudou Shinichi | Edogawa Conan/Kuroba Kaito | Kaitou Kid, Ernesti "Eru" Echavalier/ Oratio Gojass, Harleen Quinzel/Bruce Wayne, Hermione Granger/Harry Potter, Megamind/Metro Man, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Barry Allen/Leonard Snart, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead/Yagi Toshinori | All Might, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead/Midoria Izuku/ Yagi Toshinori | All Might, Ernesti "Eru" Echavalier/ Dietrich Knitz, Inaba Yuushi/ Ryuu-san, One sided Nanako Momoi/Akira Uehara, Ray Balzac Courland/Florian Rochefort, L/Yagami Light
Additional Tags: kinktober 2017
read it on the AO3 at http://ift.tt/2x9k3AC
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Have Mercy
A/N: Based on this ask. It contained porno links. Whoever you are, ya nasty and I love you. This is a bit of a deviation so I'm sorry if it wasn't what you pictured! Thank you for the support!
Pairing: Pornstar!Tyrone x Black!Shy!Fem!reader / Plus Size reader
Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. FILTH for nearly 5k words! PWP, cursing, PIV, oral (fem receiving), cum play, possession kink, size kink, dirty talk, degradation/praise kink, Daddy kink, orgasm denial, overstimulation, all consensual. Use of n-word. Disrespectful Tyrone. Drug use. Established friendship.
Summary: After a very steamy porn video by Tyrone, you can't help your curious questions as you hang out and discuss his work. You'd been too shy to ask before, but you're dying to know what it's like in person.
Word Count: 5,284k
A/N: I was just waiting on the right spark to answer this ask. And...look, you all know how fuckin' feral I am for Tyrone. It's not a surprise. I promise 5k words is worth it. This was so fuckin' hot to write. I hope you enjoy it! Please, please, consider leaving a comment or reblogging to help support writers. I can't get better with no feedback!
Taglist: @planetblaque @dayjlovesromance @sevikasblackgf @melaninpov @amyhennessyhouse @henneseyhoe @honeyoriginalz @justheretostan @black-fairy3 @superhoeva @jarfulloftears @hereformiles @montysstuffs @westside-rot @blackerthings @blowmymbackout @euphoric05 @miyuhpapayuh @nicolexnight @8ttached @judymfmoody @wakandas-vibranium @soft-persephone @justabovewater20 @notapradagurl7 @mcotton0928 @soapjay @heyauntieeee @theyscreamsannii @mybonafidefeelings
“Okay, but like…they just kind of sit there and…” You stopped talking and started jerking your hand. You looked across the hazy space towards Tyrone. He was laying across the bed and looked at you down the blunt he held to his mouth. The orange-red spark glinted and then dimmed as he pulled it out. He licked his lips and then blew out the smoke.
“Shit, ion know. I do this shit myself,” Tyrone said.
Tyrone passed the blunt and you grabbed it, bringing it to your lips and inhaling. You turned your head towards the ceiling, your eyes expanding. “So, you got a camera and microphones and shit?” You asked.
“Yeah,” Tyrone said and took the blunt from you. “Got to these days. If I’ma be rocking somebody’s shit, then everybody gon’ see it.” He brought the blunt to his lips and pulled on it.
You tried to picture it. Your head was so blessedly silent for once. You actually formed a thought and kept it. Tyrone on the bed, naked. Showing off ropes and ropes of thick muscle. Arms strong enough to break coconuts. Thighs begging to be ridden.
Your core heated up, a small tingle working up the back of your thighs. You bet he was the type to hold on and get to work. But you smirked at him and started to giggle.
“You always talk that shit, Ty,” you said. Your giggles kept going, making your stomach hurt. You flattened your hand on your stomach. “Don’t make me laugh! My tummy hurt!”
Tyrone stared at your high ass and smirked. Fuck. It took forever to make him laugh. Like the mu’fucka was born with ice down his throat. You longed to hear that rare, raspy laugh.
“I talk big ‘cuz my dick big,” he said and huffed out a chuckle. It was barely enough to call it a laugh.
The mention of his dick had you clenching your thighs. You’ve memorized the way Tyrone walked. He walked like he was swangin’ dick down there. Also, you’d never in a million years tell him, but you’ve seen his videos.
You had second hand evidence that he was packin’. You have came plenty of times just to the sound of his voice on those videos. He rarely fucked the same girl twice. They were all different women; all Black women, and all thick Black women.
You weren’t a snob. Sometimes you’d watch the woman getting their back blown out and wish it were you. But his voice. You were knee deep in his comments and he was gaining popularity just from his voice alone.
You giggled again. “Where do you even find these women? You being safe?” You asked. You knew perfectly well that he fucked without a condom. Hell, you’d let him cum in you too.
“I get checked every month and only fuck bitches that’s clean. Some hit me up. Some I find in the wild,” he said.
He puffed on the blunt after you handed it back. Your body wasn’t floating but it felt like it. There was an all around hum on your body.
“The wild? Like…damn, you just find women willing to have sex on camera and release it?” You never had enough courage to ask these questions before. But after last night’s video, you wanted to know. Your burning curiosity finally won out and started asking about it.
“You’d be surprised how many mu’fuckas wanna watch themselves. Some don’t wanna be seen. That’s fine. Hide they face and whatever. But the real nasty ones don’t cum unless the camera in they face,” he said. He released a cloud of smoke to join the rest.
You thought of being one of those women. Showing your face on camera for millions to gawk at. Cum to. You’d never in a million years…but the thought wasn’t terrible. There would be evidence that Tyrone fucked you and he’d control it. He could do anything with it.
“Do you rehearse and shit? Like do you know what you’re gonna say before?” You asked.
“Hell naw,” he said and huffed again.
He comes up with those filthy things on the spot? You bit your lip. Maybe…having sex with Tyrone wouldn’t be good. He’s a different breed. In a class all on his own. Sure, the videos could have told you that. But hearing it from the source? You weren’t so sure you wanted to find out what he was like.
“You real curious tonight,” he said. The orange light from the blunt casted soft shadows over his face.
You shrugged. “We ain’t talkin’ bout shit else,” you said.
“You forget I know yo ass? You real curious,” he said. He looked at you skeptically. You looked right in his eyes. You were not going to give him an inch. You had years worth of experience pretending to not be in love with him. That every video wasn’t like a stab in the heart.
He was making good money though and you weren’t gonna fuck with someone’s bag. So you kept your mouth shut. Pretended that you were just his friend. Just a friend.
The bed shifted and Tyrone leaned closer to you. His eyes searched your face. He leaned in closer than he has ever been to you. His nose lightly grazed yours, making it both tingly and itchy.
You swallowed hard and you knew you made a sound. Tyrone huffed, the breath fanning across your face.
“You trynna find out?” He asked.
“Naw nigga,” you said. You didn’t know where this boldness came from. But your heart thundered in fear that he would learn your secret. You’d kept it so close to your heart for so long. It was like its own tiny dagger always piercing your heart. But sometimes removing it hurts you worse than keeping it in. If you opened your big mouth, you’d ruin this. This time spent together.
Tyrone kissed your cheek. His lips lingering against your cheek as he spoke. “Every time I mention gettin’ down, you tell me I’m lyin’. So let me prove myself,” he said.
You giggled, the weed making him glow. You stared across his regal looks. You bet he was a king in a previous life.
You wriggled on the bed and took a deep breath. Stay strong. Stay strong. “You actin’ crazy, Ty. Not every girl wanna be yo bitch,” you said. You sounded weak to your own ears.
“Mhm, I think you the one lyin’. I think you been cravin’ this dick,” he said. He pecked your cheek and traveled down. His lips kissed a trail of fire down to your neck.
“What you say that for?” You asked.
“You wanna know what it’s like to be fucked by me, don’t you?” He asked. He kissed up to your ear and laughed. “I know what desire look like. I eat that shit for breakfast,” he said.
His words made your mouth drop open. Words of denial rushed to your lips. But your mouth turned dry. The fuckin’ weed speeding along your anxiety at being exposed.
“You trippin’, man,” you said. You shook your head, but he kept up the pressure on your neck. Practically making out. Little swipes of his tongue made you bite back a groan. Your panties were so damp, they were sticking to you. You ran the palms of your hands up and down your thighs.
“You talk big game. You aint tell me to stop yet neither,” he said.
Fuck. True. But how could you? He hadn’t even done anything to you yet and you were ready to burst. You just made yourself cum this morning, thinking of the video last night. He had looked delicious pounding someone into the bed. How you wanted it to be you.
Your words died in your throat. What could you say? He was seducing yo ass. Did you really want that to stop?
“Fine then, nigga. Break my back,” you said. You looked him in the eyes with the challenge in your eyes. He looked up at you and grinned. Yo momma ain’t raise no bitch. You got nervous sometimes but that’s okay. It’s okay to be nervous. Do shit anyway.
The words sounded nice, but you were terrified of the look in Tyrone’s eyes. That was not the look of someone who was going to be sweet and loving in bed. Tyrone the Pornstar was here.
He got off of the bed and moved the ashtray off of the bed and onto the nightstand. The sound of the glass was like a gunshot. You flinched and watched his every move. He stood up to his full height and stared at you.
The look in his eyes was not friendly. It was predatory. You were an unknowing baby bunny and he was a starving wolf. He reached out with his hands and ran them up and down your bare thighs. You gasped and flinched away from him.
“When was the last time you been fucked?” He asked.
You’ve taken your fair share of guys to your bed. Some were even good. None ever came close to Tyrone. Each time you came, it was to the sound or memory of Tyrone’s voice.
“Been a while,” you said.
He nodded his head. He reached for the zipper of your shorts and you let him unzip it. He didn’t pull your shorts down all the way. He opened your zipper as far as it would go and then pulled down the front just enough to see your panties.
You were hoping to disrobe in a quick rush. You weren’t exactly prepared for sex tonight. You wore one of your boring and safe panties. It didn’t bother Tyrone. He stared at it, like he’d just unwrapped a present.
“Talkin’ all that shit. Why yo panties wet then?” He asked.
You looked away briefly. “Thinkin of this guy at my job I got a crush on,” you said.
Tyrone dug his fingers into your panties and you cried out. “Every time you lie to me, that’s another orgasm,” he said. “I’m already thinkin’ of..four, maybe. I can keep goin’,” he said. His deep voice made you shiver.
His fingers were right there. Your stupid panties were in the way. You felt the pressure but not his beautiful, strong hands. “I’m not lyin’,” you said.
He dug his fingers in more and you jerked from the strong wave of desire. It was like you drank static.
“A’ight that’s five. And I want you to count ‘em out too,” he said.
“Wait, I’m sorry,” you said. You never had your limits tested, but you were pretty sure you’d die after the third one. If he went for five, you weren’t going to survive. There were too many things you wanted to accomplish before you left this earth.
“That sorry shit don’t work on me,” he said and grinned. “Now be a good little bitch and tell me you want this dick. And you want me to film it,” he said.
A breath stuttered out of you. He was even better in person. “Don’t show my face,” you said. You borrowed boldness for tonight. If you survived to tomorrow, then that’s when you’d freak out. For now, you wanted the entire Tyrone experience.
“Naw, this my personal stash. I wanna see that sexy ass face,” he said. He leaned over you and ran his thumb outside of your panties. You were leaking at the edges and his thumb glided so close to where you needed him.
“Personal stash?” Maybe if you kept him talking, he’d give you a reprieve. You just needed a moment to think. To find a way out of five orgasms.
“The ones I watch to get myself hard. The ones I cum to, thinkin’ of it when I’m balls deep in pussy online,” he said.
Oh shit. “But–” your dry throat ached. It paled in comparison to the ache in your tummy. That deep, hidden place that few men actually hit.
Tyrone slipped his thumb under your panties and crested the very outer area of your clit. You gasped and twitched, your legs couldn’t open wider because your shorts weren’t all the way off. He looked into your eyes.
He licked your open mouth. “See, the game to porn? Focus on the woman. Always,” he said.
He increased his strokes until you were a shaking mess. You didn’t know you could make those types of sounds. But all of the tiny grunts and yips, turned to moans as you came from his finger circling your clit. He didn’t even touch it directly.
He pulled his finger away and watched you jerk and twitch until you calmed down. He licked his thumb, made a surprised sound, and stood up. Your eyes tracked him as he stepped back and took off his black T-shirt. His jeans went next, his briefs tenting with his erection.
He stroked himself over his briefs and looked at you with his head crooked to the side. “Fuck, you’re sexy,” he rasped. He moved to the side of his room and there was the sound of devices getting moved around. You laid on the bed, your eyes back to the ceiling.
This was really happening. You fought the urge to pinch yourself as Tyrone set up the camera. It had a retractable viewer and he flipped it around to the bed. You saw yourself lying there, staring at the camera.
Your pussy clenched at the thought. Tyrone had always been a man of his word. If this was his personal stash, he was the only one that would see you getting fucked. You wanted it so desperately, you leaned up on your elbows and started to remove your shorts.
“I say you can move yet?” He asked.
You panted at his aggressive tone and shook your head, not trusting your voice. “Lay yo ass back down,” he said. You followed his command, laying back on the bed. Your body was floating this time. You felt every nerve in your body twitch up and await what Tyrone had in store.
Tyrone puffed on the blunt as he finished setting up the camera. A moment later, he brought the camera closer and pointed it at your face. You blushed so hard that your cheeks burned from it. You knew they would be hot to the touch.
“Smile for Daddy,” he said.
You giggled and swiped at the camera. “Fuck you,” you said.
Tyrone chuckled a little louder this time. He moved the camera down your body. “Take off the shirt first, nice and slow,” he said.
You sat up and looked at him. Focus on him. That’s all you had to do. You’d make this the best damn video he can’t release. You took off your shirt, exposing your mismatched bra. That came next, slowly sliding it off your arms. You threw it at him and he caught it with one hand.
He smirked from behind the camera and dropped your bra. He commanded that you stand up and take off your shorts. He told you to turn around and slightly bend over as you took off your panties. You stepped out of it and he groaned.
“Fuck, look at that pretty fuckin’ pussy,” he said.
You clenched and then clenched again knowing that he was picking it up on the camera. “Crawl on the bed, get on your back,” he said.
You did as he told you. You climbed onto the bed and exaggerated yourself crawling to the top of his bed. You flipped over, dropping onto your back. “Get comfortable,” he told you.
You moved a few pillows over to cradle your head and back. You instantly felt better. You closed your eyes with a smile. Your knees were pressed together, still feeling that lingering shyness.
Tyrone tapped your knees. “Open them up for me,” he said. Tyrone had the viewfinder half flipped between you. He had it focused on your knees. You hid your face behind your hands and shook your head.
“C’mon, do what I say,” he said.
You groaned but opened your legs. You threw your arm over your eyes, not wanting to see his reaction. “Open them pretty eyes and look at me,” he said. His tone, more than anything, made you open your eyes and stare at him. Tyrone was not the gentle type online. He barked and commanded and did nearly unspeaking things to women. Soft wasn’t in his vocabulary.
“You know how sexy you are?” He asked.
“Of course I do,” you said. Your sexiness didn’t depend on no man. Not even Tyrone. You knew you were fine as hell. You ain’t pull niggas for nothin’. But you were still fuckin’ shy. Damn.
“Don’t hide it then,” he said. He climbed onto the bed and moved the camera beyond your head. You craned your neck to see him fix the viewfinder where he could see. There was a perfect angle of the length of your body, your legs spread open, and Tyrone hovering above you.
Tyrone then kissed you, rolling his tongue all over yours. You don’t know how long he spent kissing you. It was long enough to make you relax for half a second. When he felt your body go slack, he added his hands. He lowered himself to your body and rested on his elbows. His hands, he ran them all over your chest.
He massaged your breasts, rolling your nipple between his warm fingers. Each twist was just this side of painful. And you groaned. Your head flopped on the pillow as he nipped at your neck.
You brought your hands up to grip onto his back. Your nails lightly scratched him. He groaned. He kissed down your neck, moving onto the top of your titties. “Oh, shit,” you moaned as his lips latched onto your left nipple.
He sucked like he was mining for gold. He rolled his tongue over the budding peak. He ‘d stop and examine his handiwork, see if it was satisfactory, then return his attention to it. He licked a long strip down the center of your chest to your tummy.
He paid careful attention to each stretch mark, each tiny scar from you being clumsy, and every mole. His hands worked their way down too. Squeezing your sides. The upper, fleshy part of your thighs. He reached around and gripped your ass, squeezing the globes.
He continued downward, running his tongue through your pubic hair. He reached the very edge of your pussy and you squirmed away. A cold patch started inching its way under your ass. Your arousal was already flooding his bed.
He flattened his tongue against your pussy lips and you bucked off of the bed. “Oh fuck, Tyrone!” You yelled.
Your skin was itchy. You needed relief in the worst way. He chuckled and nosed his way through your folds. He swirled his tongue lazily around your clit.
“Did you know you taste good?” He murmured into your pussy. His lips caught your clit and part of your pussy lips. You made an unholy moan.
“Could eat this for breakfast, lunch, and dinner and still want some,” he said.
“Fuck,” you whined. Your pussy clenched thinking of a repeat with Tyrone. How else he could be so nasty.
The wetness of his tongue made you wetter. He began to increase the flicks of his tongue against your clit. “Oh shit, right there, right there,” you begged.
Tyrone backed away at the last second and you growled. He chuckled and kissed your clit. “You think just ‘cuz you want it, you s’posed to have it?” He asked.
“Please, please,” you said.
“Mhm, I knew yo lyin’ ass was gon’ regret what you said.”
“Or maybe I just wanna cum and I’ll say anything,” you said, goading him into proving you wrong. You’d gladly be wrong, many times over, if he kept eating you like that.
“Guess, we goin’ for six then. Start counting,” he said.
“What?”
“And the first one ain’t count neither,” he said.
“That’s cheating!” You yelled.
He looked at you from between your legs. You had to sit up some to see his half lidded eyes. “I look like a nigga that play fair?”
Your chest rose and fell and you looked at him. You shook your head. “No, but–what can I do to bring that number down?” You asked.
“Not a mu’fuckin’ thing,” he said. He kept watching you as he descended on your pussy, running his lips up and down, licking up your arousal. He watched as he tried different things, trying to see what you reacted to most. When he did something you liked, he stopped and switched tactics.
You tried not responding, quieting your moans but then he’d bit the sensitive spot between your pussy and your leg. You’d jerk, complain about the pain, and say, “Don’t give a fuck.”
You were back to moaning uncontrollably. So out of your mind in bliss, that you barely noticed that he stuck a finger inside of you. He pumped you, his finger getting wetter on each slide. “Oh fuck, oh fuck,” you chanted.
“Let Daddy hear you,” he said.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you continued. Each word ended on a shriek. Tyrone sucked and you came, with a loud moan. Your hands moved down your stomach, down your thighs, scratching underneath them. Your moves were jerky, flopping against the bed. You didn’t know what to do with your body as you came.
When you were done, air whooshed across your heated, sweat-slick skin. Tyrone licked up whatever was left over, making you twitch from your sensitive clit.
Tyrone kissed up one side of your thighs. He slapped your pussy, making you cry out. “One!”
He then pushed your legs back, your thighs grazing the bedsheets. “This where I want ‘em. Keep ‘em there,” he said.
How the hell was he still in so much control? You were a ruined mess. You couldn’t survive any more.
Tyrone had other plans. He trailed his fingers around your clit and you moaned. “I can’t,” you said.
“Aw, you wanna tap out?” He asked.
You nodded. Your eyes were closed. You weren’t strong enough for another orgasm.
“Still don’t give a fuck,” he said. He leaned up and over you. His thighs pushed at yours, folding you. He leaned on his fist, his muscles bunching and contracting. A vein started near his elbow and ran down towards his hand. You longed to lick it, but his arm wasn’t close enough.
You resorted to rubbing his arm. He brought his other hand to cup your pussy. Then a finger disappeared inside you. “Oh shit!” You said and jerked.
He added a second finger and you twitched. Your moans were turning painful. Robbing the breath from your lungs. You’d gasp for any little molecule of air. And then seize up once more as his fingers pumped in and out of you. “Mhmm,” Tyrone said.
“Nasty little bitch, ain’t you.” He added a third finger.
“Ty, Ty,” you croaked out.
“What? You need four?” He asked. He added a fourth finger and you rounded your eyes at him. As he pumped it into you, he turned his hand. Two fingers slipped out. The first two, he continued to pound into you. Then he crooked his fingers in a come hither motion and you exploded.
Your back lifted off of the bed as your orgasm steam rolled you. Your legs shook like mini earthquakes, each wave cascading through you like aftershocks. You reached for his chest, needed to feel something solid under your hands. He slapped your hand away and tilted his head at you.
He grabbed your nipple and pulled and you shrieked. “Fuck,” you said. He arched his brow at you. “Two,” you said.
You came down with tears gathering in your eyes. You sniffled as you shivered. Tyrone rubbed your arms, smirking at you.
“Shit, may not need the camera. I’m gon’ remember this shit,” he said.
You completely forgot about the camera. It turned you on that those orgasms were recorded. That he’d watch them again and again.
He kissed your tummy, bringing your attention back. He kissed and suckled your skin. You watched it disappear into his mouth. You groaned when he started to hurt. He moved on to more patches of skin, kissing the underswell of your right titty. He caressed your hips and massaged your ass as he kissed his way to your neck.
He bit your shoulder and then licked your neck. He placed kisses on your jaw and then kissed you. He licked the swell of your bottom lip.
Your body relaxed into the feel of his lips on you. The weed still did its thing. Every kiss was its own inferno. Burning your skin and leaving no end in sight.
Tyrone returned his attention to your neck, kissing along your ear. He licked the shell of your ear and lined up at your entrance. You didn’t even notice that he took off his briefs.
He slid in and you groaned. You brought your hand up to push at his chest. He stroked and coated his long dick with your juices. He moaned at the feeling of you. He threw his head back and you saw his neck swallowing. Tiny huffs escaped him.
“Goddamn, this pussy feels as good as it tastes,” he moaned. You clenched at his dirty words and he moaned again.
“Wanna get fucked like a good little bitch?” He asked.
“Yes! Yes, Daddy, please,” you begged, nodding your head.
His strokes were long, languorous. His hands pinned your upper arms to the bed. “What happened to all that shit you was talkin’?”
He wanted you to speak? Speak when he had his third leg half inside of you? He wasn’t even fully seated yet.
“Talk that shit now with dick in you,” he said.
You opened your mouth, ready to say something. But then he slammed all the way home, hitting your G-spot and making you cum instantly. You shook on his dick, eyes rolling into the back of your head. Your toes curled. The orgasm took all coherent thought.
After, you sniffed as tears ran down your cheeks. Tyrone’s dick twitched, his eyes locked on your face.
“Can get a nigga used to this. You cum so pretty,” he said.
“Fuck, Tyrone. Please,” you whispered. He only smirked at you. He slapped his hand against your cheek. “Three,” you said with a cry.
He moved his hand down your throat and squeezed.
“Oh fuck,” you whispered. Tears fell in rivulets down your cheeks. You were past the point of feeling good in the afterglow of your orgasms.
He kept up his slow strokes, making you feel every large vein sliding against your slick inner walls. “Put them legs where I want ‘em,” he commanded.
You lifted your aching thighs, putting your hands under to hold them open for him. “Please, Daddy.”
“Please what? Ask nicely,” he said.
He slowed down even more, almost to a torturous crawl. He wiggled his hips and his dick hit all the corners of your pussy.
“Please, no more,” you said.
“You know what to say to get me to stop,” he said. He wiggled his hips for emphasis. You whined and jerked on the bed.
You didn’t want to punk out. But you truly couldn’t take another one. Still, one built up anyway. Tyrone chuckled at you, condescension poured out of him in waves.
“You know I’m cummin’ in this shit right?” He groaned. He threw his head back and his hips twitched.��
You pictured him filling you up like a twinkie and your pussy clenched. “Like that? Want me to nut in you?”
He squeezed your neck one last time. He moved his hand to your lower tummy and pushed down. You felt his dick from the other side, felt how deep he was inside of you. The tip of his dick kissed your G-spot. He kissed you, soft and nasty. “Talk yo shit then. Can’t talk with dick inside you?”
Tears gave everything a watery haze. It streamed down your face. Tyrone licked up your tears and moaned low to your ear. “Gimme that nut then,” he said.
On command, another orgasm rushed through you. Spots danced behind your eyelids. You squeezed your eyes shut. “Show me them pretty eyes,” he said.
He smirked as you locked eyes with him. He angled his hips and your jaw dropped open. “Mhmm, I know. I know,” he said.
As you were calming down, you muttered, “Four.”
Tyrone slipped out of you and you drew your first real breath in what felt like hours. He leaned down between your legs, his mouth suckling on your clit.
“Oh shit, oh fuck, oh fuck, Tyrone, Daddy. Please,” you moaned.
“Open them fuckin’ legs,” he growled. You opened them wider, both your arms and legs were tired now. He brought his mouth back onto you and sucked roughly, dragging another orgasm out of you. Your eyes were permanently glued to the back of your head. Pleasure coursed through you, making your legs shake of their volition. Your soul left your body, your feet cramped. Sound exited your right ear and you felt this one in your eyes.
You squirted and Tyrone leaned back. “Mhmm,” he encouraged. “Nasty fuckin’ bitch,” he said. He licked up your sopping mess. You continued to squirt, the pleasure still so intense. He leaned back and watched you cum, watched you squirt.
“F-f-five,” you shook. Your teeth clattered and knocked against each other.
“Look at you, bein’ a good little bitch,” he said. “You made Daddy wait for his nut though.” His voice turned sinister.
He leaned up and slapped his dick against your clit. The wet slap turned you feral, and you cried for more. You begged for more.
“Fill me up, Daddy,” you cried. Your fingers tore at your body. You wanted more even though you were ready to tap out. Ready to give it up.
Tyrone chuckled as he slammed back in. “Oh fuck,” you cried and collapsed your legs.
“Uh-uh, open them fuckin’ legs. Keep that shit open,” he said.
You cried, tears long since dried up. He bottomed out and then rubbed your clit with his thumb. “Oh fuck,” you moaned.
“I know,” he said.
He slid in and out, stroking deep. Deep enough to make you see stars. “Oh, fuck, Daddy,” your voice was high-pitched. “Fuck me, Daddy, fuck me,” you chanted.
“Im finna nut,” he moaned. “I’m finna nut, I’m finna nut.” Hearing his moans was like the spark you needed. You came again, gushing and soaking his dick. He threw his head back and unloaded inside of you.
He kept going, kept fucking his cum into you. Hot splashes coated your pussy. You felt every pulse and twitch of his dick inside you. He emptied his balls into you and you moaned and scratched at his back.
He slowed his deep strokes, stilling inside of you.
“Good fuckin’ bitch,” he said. He slipped out of you, his cum leaking out behind him. He panted, his sweaty chest rising and falling almost painfully.
“Oh,” you cooed and moaned. Your legs flopped onto the bed, instant relief from keeping them up so long. “Six,” you whispered. Your voice was hoarse.
Tyrone kissed you. He breathed in your ear. “You ever have any more questions, you come let me know.”
You were already gone to the world as he said whatever it was that he said. If you woke up in the morning, it’d be a miracle.
&&&
You okay? Need more? The Secret Tyrone Files
#Megaminds Secret Files#The Secret Tyrone Files#Tyrone x Black!reader#Tyrone x Black reader#x Black reader#Tyrone x Shy!reader#Tyrone x Shy reader#Tyrone x Fem!reader#Tyrone x Fem reader#Tyrone x plus size reader#Tyrone fanfic#Tyrone fan fic#Tyrone fanfiction#Tyrone fan fiction#They Cloned Tyrone smut#Tyrone smut#They Cloned Tyrone fanfic#They Cloned Tyrone fanfiction#They Cloned Tyrone fan fic#They Cloned Tyrone fan fiction#Megaminds asks
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Runaway Lover, Part 1
Pairing: Big Stunna x Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader
Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. SMUT. ANGST. PWP, cursing, PIV, oral (female and male receiving) teasing/mocking, cum play/swallowing, size kink, dirty talk, praise kink, referring to female anatomy as she, all consensual. Use of n-word. Mentions of God, Christian leaning. Sorry if I missed some, I'm rushing, just let me know.
Summary: On a girl's trip with your friends to Punta Cana, getting some much needed rest before spring semester, you bump into Stunna and a whirlwind romance rocks you to your core.
Word Count: 9,326k
Part 2
A/N: This is a wonderful ask from @melaninpov. I'm sorry if this wasn't what you had in mind, I've been watching romance movies all day and this turned sweet unexpectedly. Happy Valentine's Day, my loves. Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!
Taglist: @planetblaque @blackerthings @browngirldominion @we-outsiiiide @thecookiebratz @iv0rysoap @notapradagurl7 @sevikasblackgf @miyuhpapayuh @xo-goldengirl @kindofaintrovert @flydotty @judymfmoody @slippinninque @soufcakmistress @henneseyhoe @westside-rot @melaninpov @twocentuar @blackpinup22 @babybratzmaraj @theyscreamsannii @kiabialia
“Are you sure this isn’t too short?” You asked your friends. You stood in the bathroom of your hotel suite. The bright, fluorescent lighting in the bathroom highlighted everything. Everything. You wore a simple gold dress with intricate bronze and burnished orange swirls. It was a tad too short and showed a tad too much.
You weren’t a prude but you were also unused to showing…so much. You tugged at the short sleeves, the low neckline, and pinched the areas around your sides. You weren’t sure why you packed the damn thing, but you were drinking while packing. Something you vowed to never do again.
“You look so hot!” Your friend, Stella, said and moved closer to you and faced the mirror. She wore a violet dress with sparkling beads woven in to make it look like she wore a dress made of stars. It fit her deep ebony skin perfectly and brought out the subtle jewel tones in her skin.
You bit your lip, tasting the sweet lipgloss you dabbed on your lips. Abusing your lips was your worst sin and you avoided putting anything on them but tonight, you were all about new experiences. Hopefully.
“I should change,” you said. You pushed past Stella’s calls out for you to stop and that there was no need.
Angela appeared in the doorway and trapped you in the bathroom. “Damn girl!” You said. Stella’s sister was gorgeous in a marigold bodycon dress that hugged all of her curves and showed off her perfectly round ass. Truly, an apple bottom that she claimed was her best feature.
Angela preened under the praise but did not lower her hands from the door frame. “You’re not changing. None of us are changing. We only have two days left before it’s back to fucking school and we’re going out with a bang. They better be throwing us out before the trip is over,” she said.
She pushed you back into the bathroom. Thank goodness the space was big enough for all three of you. There were wide tile squares on the floor, a discarded hotel towel on the floor to keep you all from slipping, and two large mirrors over a double sink.
Angela and Stella finished up their makeup and demanded that you applied more gloss. Stella handed you a clutch to match your dress and told you to take the gloss with you.
You accepted it with a roll of your eyes. You’d likely go through the entire tube before the night was over. You were constantly at battle with your anxiety. Ya’ll really didn’t fuck with each other but it was like a toxic ex that didn’t know how to leave you alone. You could block, skip, and hop away from it but it was always lurking around the corner.
“Alright! Let’s go!” Stella yelled, getting you two pumped for the night’s activities. You all put on your matching heels or sandals, grabbed purses and clutches, and tucked in last minute items you may need, and headed out of the door.
Punta Cana was a balmy destination spot with plenty of resorts. The trip there had been uneventful but you and your friends had stayed glued to the windows, snapping pictures of the local plantlife, hills, and palm trees.
At the resort, you couldn’t help looking around in wide-eyed wonder, taking in the people and accommodations. You had been here for a few days enjoying the beach and accompanying swimming pool at the resort.
Everyone was friendly and open and a staff member was always around waiting to answer your questions. The goal of the trip was rest, rest, and more fucking rest. You were approaching your final year of school. After this spring semester, you were officially a senior and would have to enter the dreaded world of adults.
Stella and Angela kept up a steady stream of chatter on the ride down the elevator about what they were most excited for. The adults only resort was a breath of fresh air. No kids running around and no harried parents running after them.
Tonight, you were going to the club in the resort. So far, your activities have kept you from that venue. You rode ATVs and did a snorkeling tour off the shore of the beach. You also climbed into a boat to watch the local marine life. That part was your favorite.
Angela had to remind you that you were in fact young and it was okay to enjoy yourself. Half the time, you didn’t know where your anxiety came from. You could be having the time of your life and then boom! Your anxiety was snatching your breath away and warning you of an invisible threat. No matter how many times you asked for proof or begged to know what the threat was, your anxiety only shook its head and repeated the warning tone: danger, danger!
You shoved your anxiety in the recesses of your mind. You were not in danger. There was no threat. You were only here to have a good time.
On the main floor of the resort, the wide open arches and large windows let in enough of the view that you saw the moon ascending the sky. Sunset was losing its grip on this part of the world. Swirling colors of lilac, tangerine, and amber dotted the sky as night approached. The ambient lighting outside began to turn on one by one.
Stella looped her arms through yours and Angela’s arms and pulled you toward the entrance to the club. The music reached you first. Hotel guests were spilling in and out of the place so it must be a popular spot.
You swallowed around the huge lump in your throat as you pushed inside, flashing your wristbands that confirmed your age and the amenities you paid for. The staff member waved you in with a polite smile and soon you were entrenched in the booming club.
The space itself was huge with plenty of dancefloor area. The upbeat, fast paced music got everybody dancing and shaking their hips. There were pillars stationed around the room holding up the ceiling but other than that, it was pretty much open. There was a bar area on a raised platform filled with tables and chairs.
Most were all occupied as people looked over the railing at the brave people down below getting it on in various states of fancy clothing. Dresses flew through the space. Heels clacked on the floor. Hands were in the air in an undulating wave like the waters that crashed on the shore.
There was a heavy smell of liquor and sweat and some type of sweet perfume in the air that tried to combat it. There was no way to combat the funk so it ended up smelling like sweet sweat. But that was to be expected with so many people in one room shaking what the Lord gave them.
You and your friends made a beeline to the bar, immediately ordering sugary drinks that would go straight to your head. Alcohol was never a proper solution to anxiety. However, you’d take anything for a release from its shackles for the night.
As you waited for your drink, you bounced your shoulders trying to get your body to catch up to your mind. “Naw, show us what you got, girl!” Stella said. She whistled and encouraged you to dance a little more, shake a little more.
Fuck it. You couldn’t let your anxiety win this time around. You started getting into it, shaking your booty faster and then backing away from the bar. You felt the rhythm of the song, waving your hands and getting your whole body into it.
You backed up one more step and tripped, your body flying to the right. You shrieked, hands reaching out to catch your fall. However, you didn’t fall. Strong arms encircled you. It took a few moments for your mind to catch up to the fact that you weren’t kissing the nasty club floor.
Your heart roared in your chest, causing stops and starts that made you shake all over. The strong arms pulled you back to standing, righting yourself on your wedges. “Thank you,” you said.
You looked up into the most gorgeous pair of brown eyes you had ever seen. Those eyes were framed by a long face, wide nose, and a trimmed dark beard. He had a big smile with perfect, symmetrical teeth encased in hollow grills.
The man had rich, deep golden brown skin that he showed off with a collared navy shirt and black jeans. His upper arms were bulging with muscles, straining against the short sleeves of his shirt.
He was in a word: devastating.
“Are you okay?” Sound finally filtered past your racing heartbeat. The way he looked at you gave you the indication that he had asked it more than once. You bit your lip and nodded. You forgot how words worked.
“Are you sure you didn’t twist anything?” He asked. His voice felt like what hot chocolate on a cold evening tasted like. It warmed you up from the inside out, awakening places that didn’t usually awaken for anything other than your favorite celebrity and brownies.
Your mind was slow, fuzzy around the edges, as it dawned on you that he was pointing to your feet. You moved each leg, leaning on him while you lifted your legs and moved them in a tiny circle.
You looked back into his eyes and nodded again. “Good,” you chirped.
He smiled slowly. Fuck, you could watch him smile for the rest of your days and never get sick of it. He was so damn cute. And hot. A dangerous combination that had you acting like Helen Keller. ‘Cept you could plainly see how divinely sexy he was.
“Can I buy you a drink to apologize for ruining your dance?” He asked.
You smiled and ducked your head, cheeks warming up from the embarrassment of dancing in front of him. You looked down at his hands secured around your arms, at your hands on his.
You started to move them but he held on a little tighter, unwilling to let you go. “I…kind of already ordered one,” you said around the thick lump in your throat. Come on! Get it together! What the hell was wrong with you?
“Oh, are you here with someone?” He asked. He still didn’t let you go.
You licked your lips, the sweet taste of manufactured strawberries coating your tongue and snapping some sense back into you. You nodded and looked towards your friends. They were openly gawking at you.
“My friends,” you finally said.
“But no guy?” He asked.
You giggled and shook your head. “No girl?” You asked.
He smiled and shook his head. “I’m Stunna,” he said.
You told him your name. He said a few times, rolling the syllables around his tongue like one did to a lollipop. You focused on his mouth and the way he said your name. As if he had been saying it his whole life and never wanted to stop.
“If I can’t buy you a drink, can I get your number? You from the States?” He asked.
Anxiety reared its huge, ugly, monstrous head. You were nervous to just…abandon your friends. Let alone your drink. With your luck, you lived on complete opposite sides of the country. You nodded, to give him an answer about the States. But were too nervous to tell him where. To even hint at the possibility that you could occupy the same city and there wasn’t a national alert about it.
You were sure that he caused a storm of women wherever he went. You would have noticed if he lived around the Bay. You knew that you’d feel him in your blood, taste him in your veins if you lived in the same area. Certain that you would have bumped into each other already. Seen each other somewhere.
“I should probably get back to my friends. I’m sure your friends are missing you as well,” you said. You reluctantly withdrew your hold on him. Your small claim for the time being. Relinquishing that hold hurt.
He nodded. As you turned to leave, he swiftly caught your hand. He brought it to his lips and kissed your fingers. “Save a dance for me? I wanna see more of them moves.”
A nervous giggle pushed against your rib cage, threatening to spill over. You swallowed it back down and bit your lip. You didn’t want to keep turning him down but your stomach twisted and turned. Danger! Threat!
There was nothing threatening about the man so you figured that you needed away. You needed space to breathe and think. Time spent away from his spicy cologne that tickled your nose.
You nodded once more. What were the odds that he’d find you again in this club? If your friends weren’t at the bar, you wouldn’t know the first place to look for them.
Stunna let go of your hand and backed away, giving you a small wink before turning back to his friends. He was surrounded by a group of guys, all hot in some way or another? Damn. You checked out his back side as you walked back to your friends.
“The hell you doing back here?” Stella asked.
“What’s happening? Why aren’t you sitting in that man’s lap?” Angela asked.
“What are you talking about?” You asked. You grabbed your drink, the glass sweating from sitting so long. How long had you been talking to Stunna? And why did you feel like you wanted to run right back into his arms?
You took deep gulps of the fruity concoction, letting the alcohol seep through your system and chase away your anxiety. The cold from the drink burned away the lump in your throat. Being away from him helped. It helped in a way that was foreign to you to name or identify.
People didn’t have physical reactions to others right? Like that was a thing made up by romance movies to get people’s heads in the clouds and sell more candy in stores, right?
Your friends hounded you for answers to their questions, wondering what you spoke about and why you weren’t still talking to him.
“I didn’t want to abandon you for some guy. This is a girl’s trip. A relaxing trip,” you said.
“You better relax on that man’s dick! Like you saw him right? Like you saw the way he looked at you? Girl, please tell me she’s not that oblivious,” Stella said, leaning her head on her sister’s shoulder.
Angela tossed her hands up as if she were preaching to a congregation. “Father God, grant your child the gift of sight because she’s clearly blind,” Angela said.
You laughed, rubbing your forehead at their embarrassing shenanigans. “I’m not oblivious!”
“I pray that I’ll never do some dumb shit like her, Lord. Smite her and send the nigga my way, because damn,” Stella said. She looked behind you and you panicked, standing in her way to not bring attention to the fact that you were discussing Stunna. You risked a glance over your shoulder.
Stunna was sitting down at a table, faced in your direction. He lifted his glass to you and you smiled, turning around and immediately dropping it. The drink wasn’t helping. Butterflies flapped tiny wings in your stomach. He was killing you.
“What happened to new experiences?” Angela asked.
“Not that damn new,” you muttered, sipping more of your drink. At this rate, you’d need ten drinks to calm the wings in your stomach.
Stella groaned dramatically, throwing her arms across your shoulders. “As sweet as it is to worry about us, you see us every damn day. How often do you run across someone that damn fine in real life? In real life? He belongs in a magazine or on TV or some shit,” she said.
That was the fucking truth. “He probably lives on the East Coast or something,” you said, waving Stella off of you. You were too hot. There were too many people here. Too many clusters of hot breath, sweat, and body heat raising the temperature in the room to dangerous levels.
You sipped more of your drink. You tapped your foot against the hard floor, vibrating with energy that had nowhere to go. Nothing to do but zip up and down your body and twist your insides.
“So? You ain’t trynna marry the nigga. Just get down,” Angela said and bent low, shaking her hips. Stella joined her, sticking their tongues out. Stella turned around and bounced her booty against Angela. Angela mimed hitting Stella’s ass and you laughed, waving them away.
“You two are a hot fucking mess!” You screamed. They continued to dance and giggle, shaking their ass and proceeding to make you wish the floor swallowed you whole.
“Since our girl is romantically deficient, let’s get on the floor,” Stella said. You finished your drink and followed your friends to the dance floor.
You started out stiff, not wanting to bump up against anyone. You didn’t need a repeat from earlier. Your friends noticed your reluctance and each took one of your hands. They began to swing you around.
You smiled, falling for their obvious charm. You loosened up and relaxed. The drink finally did the trick and you surrendered to the music. You closed your eyes and felt the thumping beats, the instruments, and sultry crooning of the singer.
You danced and laughed with your friends, relishing the feeling of being young and carefree. This was what you had been chasing this entire trip. This feeling of being present and in the moment.
You began to twerk as the music changed, popping your ass to the beat of the song. Your friends cheered you on. You placed your hands on your knees and got lower. Someone sidled up behind you, not one of your friends you were sure.
You shrugged your shoulders and kept dancing. Now was the time to keep living in the moment. You could dance with someone that wasn’t in your immediate comfort circle. You couldn’t always hang onto your friends like a barnacle.
Large hands circled your waist and you leaned back into a lean but strong frame. The stranger felt like a man and a good dancer on top of it. Able to match your changing moves. The stranger grabbed your hands and spun you around to face him.
Stunna grinned at the surprise on your face. “I thought I told you to save me a dance,” he yelled to be heard over the music.
“What took you so long?” You asked.
“Like that?” He asked, exaggerating his words. You nodded. He matched your nod and then spun you back around. You giggled, breathless at being spun around like a doll. He pulled you around the dancefloor dancing to the fast-paced music with ease. Now it was you that was having trouble keeping up with him.
You faced him now and your hands were in each other’s, dancing with complicated turns and twirling limbs that made you feel like you were on Dancing With the Stars. The song finished and you waved your heads. “I need a break!”
Stunna grinned, flashing those damn grills. You stared at them, wondering if he took them out during sex. Was he the type to go down on a woman? Stunna winked as he if sensed the direction of your thoughts.
He placed his hand on your lower back and led you back to the bar. You ordered some water and he made you order a drink. “Since you don’t wanna give a nigga your phone number,” he said with a show-stopping smile.
You rolled your eyes. “Why do you want my number?” You asked. You drank the water bottle at his nudging.
“So I can hear that sexy ass voice in my ear,” he said.
You rolled your eyes playfully and played with the paper around the water bottle. “You’re so bad,” you said.
He shrugged his shoulders, calling your name like he was savoring the taste of it. “I’m still right though. I want to keep talking to you,” he said.
You could practically feel your friends on your shoulders like little devils pushing you to give him your number. What harm could it do? You held out your hand for his phone. He dug it out of his pocket and handed it to you.
His total focus on you while you entered your number was unnerving. You couldn’t help giggling as you put in your number. He reached out and trailed a finger down your arm, raising goosebumps in its wake. You messed up on a number and giggled in his direction.
“You’re distracting me,” you said.
“Yeah? Good. But make sure that number right,” he said. He peeked across the screen as you backspaced and entered your number correctly.
He smelled like his cologne, sweat, and whatever drink he had throughout the night. You handed his phone back to him. You fanned yourself with your clutch while he looked at his phone.
He smiled and tapped a few times. “There, now you have my number,” he said.
The butterflies returned to your stomach the longer you spent in his presence. He liked that he could fluster you so easily and tried his damndest to keep doing so. Your cheeks ached from all the smiling you did.
You talked more about yourself and your friends and why you came to the D.R. He told you that he was out here celebrating for his friend’s wedding. The wedding had already passed, cheaper during the week, so they were spending the weekend celebrating with friends.
“It’s nice of you all to come out here and celebrate with them,” you said. Stunna turned his head to the side, he didn’t hear you. The music seemed to get louder and even though you yelled, he couldn’t hear you.
Stunna scooted closer to you and yelled in your ear. “Wanna go outside?”
You looked at him and nodded. You couldn’t hear shit, but you were pretty sure you could hear your friends whooping for joy as Stunna took your hand and led you outside of the club.
Your ears popped as you reached the quiet interior of the lobby. There was a stark contrast between the two rooms and your ears rung. You shook your head, trying to clear the ringing. Stunna did the same, shaking his shoulders too for good measure.
Being out in the lobby, the base temperature felt like frost at the top of a mountain. You shivered as it highlighted buckets of sweat rolling down your spine and between your breasts.
A drop of sweat rolled down Stunna’s arm and you followed the movement as it trailed down a prominent vein. Stunna still held your hand and you walked out of the resort, past the open pool that shimmered with light from nearby lamps.
You walked along the concrete pathways heading down to the beach. Before you stepped onto the sand, you leaned down and took off your wedges. Stunna took off his boots, and rolled up his pants legs.
“Looks like I was smart to wear a dress,” you said and giggled at him.
“Damn smart. I’m glad you did. Your body in that dress, hmm,’ he said and rolled his bottom lip between his teeth.
“Stop,” you chuckled and shook your head. He was incorrigible.
“Naw, I can’t. Your ass looks amazing. Thighs I just wanna squeeze. Lips I wanna kiss,” he said. He stood up to his full height and you stared at him.
Soft moonlight fell over his features on one side of his face. The lamps gave a warm glow on the other side. He was light, soaking it all up and reflecting it back out to seem like he had an inner glow.
You sighed, staring at this work of art before you. You wanted to pinch yourself. You stepped closer but Stunna only smiled, grabbed your hand, and you took off down the beach. You spent time walking up and down, warm sand digging between your toes.
You talked more, learning about him and how much he loved to read. You shared that passion and spoke about books you’ve read and favorite authors. He took your recommendations seriously, pulling out his phone to add books to a list on his phone.
“Come back to my room,” he said.
You shook your head. “Won’t your friends be looking for you?”
“Naw. I got my own room. I ain’t sharing shit with them nasty niggas,” he said.
You laughed, moving away from him as the sand made you trip up. Stunna pulled you back to his side. “See, yo clumsy ass need somewhere to sit. Come sit in my room,” he said.
You were back in the same position from earlier when he rescued you from falling. He gripped your elbows, standing close enough to lick, and your hands were on his arms. He was too close, surrounding you with him. You couldn’t think past him. When you looked up, all you saw was him.
You waited to feel panicked and shaky. To warn you to step away and flee from him. It never came. “If I go back to your room, I doubt we’ll just be sitting,” you said.
“I never said that. That’s yo nasty mind,” he said. He licked his lips. “But I like the way you think. You wanna come sit in my lap?”
There were no reservations. No warning bells in your head. No screeches of noise or racing thoughts to prevent you from biting your lip and nodding. From grabbing his hand and watching each other as you left the beach and headed inside.
You didn’t talk as you leaned against one another in the elevator. He placed a kiss to your head and you melted even further into him. The elevator softly dinged and the doors opened to his floor. He stayed in the building next to your room. You were sort of relieved. Had he stayed in the same building or even on the same floor, it would have been too perfect. Too obviously a set up by God or whoever was out there listening.
Stunna swiped his keycard once he got to his room and opened the door. You walked inside the cool room and turned on lights.
He had a suitcase on the couch of his suite, open to reveal some clothes he packed. He had shoes strewn about but for the most part, he was a clean guest. He closed the door and you turned to look at him.
You placed your shoes on the ground next to his, marveling at the contrast between your sizes. It looked oddly perfect sitting side by side. You ignored that runaway thought as you quickly texted your friends that you would be late to the room. It was a good chance to not wait up for you at all if this night went how you were expecting.
Stunna watched you place your clutch on the TV stand. He moved about the room, cleaning up but it wasn’t necessary. Just bags and bottles of water that were on the nightstand.
“I’ll wash off this sand,” you told him.
“I’ll go after you. Take your time,” he said.
Take your time, yeah right. If you took long enough, you would summon your anxiety like an ancient deity out for your blood. You quickly went to the bathroom and freshened up a little, running the bath to clean off your feet. You didn’t even look at yourself in the mirror. If you did, you would chicken out.
You didn’t want to chicken out. You wanted a wild story. A story to tuck in your heart and bring out as the years passed and you lived your life. A story that you held on to when you got older and your partying days was nearing its end.
When you left the bathroom, Stunna had lowered the lights to make it more intimate and softer. He opened the curtains revealing a balcony that overlooked the ocean. He stood outside, twisting caps off of water bottles. He also had a bottle of Hennesy on the small table outside.
You approached and he smiled when you did. “I’ll be right back,” he said.
He went to the bathroom to clean off the sand. You stepped out fully and enjoyed the breeze kissing your skin. You sipped some of the Hennessy, enjoying that sweet burn. The ocean waves crashed against the shore but from this height, you saw further than you did in your room.
Few stars were able to wink in and out behind dark clouds in the sky. The half moon shone down onto the beach and over the resort. Stunna returned and wrapped his hands around your waist, leaning against you.
He grabbed the cup from your hands and finished the rest. He kissed his way along your exposed neck, sending shivers down your spine. You sighed and relaxed into him. He made no move to do anything else, no roaming hands or nasty words.
“You are so gorgeous,” he said.
You turned in his arms and faced him. “I’m done talking. Kiss me,” you said.
He grinned, flashing those damn golds that have been driving you crazy all night. “You sure?”
You wrapped your hands around his neck and pulled him closer before you lost your nerve. You finally tasted him, tasted the bite of Hennessy on his lips. His lips were warm and wet and his tongue dived into your mouth. You moaned as he explored, running his tongue along yours and along your teeth.
Stunna’s hands gripped your arms and moved lower, cupping your ass and squeezing tight. You growled from how good it felt. How wonderful it felt to be in his arms. Stunna hissed in between his kisses, like you were both on fire but he was willing to risk kissing you through the flames.
Your back was against the railing and he pushed into you, rubbing his erection against your tummy. You moaned.
“Keep moaning like that and I won’t be able to control myself,” he said against your lips. You opened your eyes to look at him.
“Don’t control yourself,” you said.
He laughed and licked his lips. He sat down in the closest chair and pulled you into his lap. You straddled him, wobbling a bit since his stance was so wide. Your legs draped on the outside of his and he spread his legs so that he could spread you wider.
His hands searched under your dress so that he could cup your ass directly. Dig those skillful fingers into the meat of your ass. He spanked one cheek and you jerked in his lap, your pussy rubbing against the fabric of his jeans.
He growled, fingers seeking your wet heat. When he found your clit, he had no mercy. He began to run his thumb around the sensitive nub. You scooted higher on his lap, needing the friction of his jeans to help speed your arousal along. Not that you really needed it. You were already dripping for him.
“Mm, so wet. You always sit your pretty ass on strangers and let them finger your pussy?” He asked around kissing you.
“N-No,” you moaned.
He suckled on your bottom lip and your pussy throbbed. He was working some type of magic between your legs. Some type of spell that threatened to rip you into pieces.
“No? You telling me that this is all for me?” He asked. “I get to be the one to play with you?”
“Yess,” you sighed against his lips.
“Then I should feel special that you’re soaking my fingers already and I’ve yet to feel you?”
“Shit,” you sighed. Your arms were wrapped completely around his neck, holding onto him and keeping him close.
He kissed your neck, licking it, while his fingers finally dipped into your entrance. You shook with a long moan, throwing your head back as pleasure rolled through you in cascading waves.
“Nasty little girl, aren’t you?” He asked.
“N-No,” you whined.
He chuckled. “You letting me play with your pussy. And it feels so good gripping my fingers. Bad little girl,” he growled against your throat.
His other hand snaked up your body until he gripped your throat. Your eyes rolled to the back as he squeezed with force. He brought your head closer so that your foreheads were touching.
His fingers increased in pressure and he drove them into you. Effectively fucking you with his fingers. “Say you’re a bad girl,” he said.
Your breathing was heavy and slow, not pumping enough oxygen into your brain. Or perhaps it was him. Perhaps he was some type of demon, stealing the oxygen from your lungs as your orgasm swam to the surface.
You couldn’t make your words work. The words stuck to the roof of your mouth like peanut butter. Your mouth moved, working double time as he stuck two fingers inside and rolled your clit with his thumb.
“Say it if you wanna cum,” he said.
“I wanna,” you whined.
“You wanna what?” He asked. “Shit, you’re so fucking wet. Can’t wait to taste you. Do you taste as sweet as you look?”
You whined and gyrated your hips. Why couldn’t you say anything? Why couldn’t your mouth work to speak?
“I wanna cum,” you finally choked out. You leaned your head back. He allowed you to do so and he kissed your neck around his fingers, dipping low to kiss your chest and just above your breasts.
“Say you’re a bad girl if you wanna cum,” he demanded.
You were close. Incredibly close. “Don’t stop, don’t stop,” you moaned.
“I’m waiting,” he whispered against your skin. Blowing air across your chest, around the pools of saliva he left on your skin.
“I’m bad. I’m a bad girl,” you moaned.
“So bad,” he agreed.
“So bad. You make me feel so good,” you moaned.
His fingers never stopped pumping into you. Your legs squeezed his and your eyes shut as you cried with your orgasm. Stunna continued to pump his fingers as you came, cooing against your skin.
“So pretty when you cum,” he said. When you were done and slumped against him, he withdrew his fingers. Shivers still wracked your body. He moaned while he suckled on his fingers, licking up your essence.
You watched him as he closed his eyes and savored your taste. You licked your lips watching him. He cleaned his fingers and gave you a wink. “You okay?” He asked.
You shook your head. “I wanna taste you too,” you said.
He grinned. “Get on your knees,” he said. You slid off of his lap with a lopsided smile. The balcony floor wasn’t entirely comfortable, but you were too focused on him unzipping his pants. He released himself from his pants and briefs.
Your eyes widened. You couldn’t possibly fit the whole thing in your mouth?!
Stunna chuckled and moved to put his dick away but you gripped his thighs. “I said, I want to taste you too.” You glanced at him as you took him into your mouth. He gave you an impressed smirk, licking his lips at the look of you taking him deep within your mouth.
You couldn’t fit all of him like you thought. But you got enough of him down. You hoped that your inexperience didn’t show. You’ve sucked dicks before but he was probably used to throat goats. Used to women taking him down to the base, fondling his balls, or knowing what the fuck to do.
You only knew that you wanted to keep going. Wanted to please him. You drooled on him and released him to get some air. Using both hands, you twisted his long shaft and then suckled the head of his dick back into your mouth.
His eyes opened and closed, back bowing off of the chair, as he groaned. His hand palmed your head and pushed you down on his dick, pushing you past your limit until you choked. He eased up, but you took him how he wanted. Your saliva helped your hands twist around his dick and coat his tip.
“Gahh damn. Fuckin’ nasty,” he groaned. You made a pleased sound in the back of your throat and continued to take him deeper and faster. Your sloppy, wet suckling was loud in the quiet air.
You slurped him, drops of precum hitting your tongue. You suckled him all down, glancing at him periodically to see the ecstasy on his face. The pleasure you were bringing him.
“Gonna bust,” he groaned.
“Wanna taste,” you said around his dick.
His breathing turned choppy before he tensed. You felt his orgasm travel up his shaft before he moaned, releasing his cum in your mouth. You continued to milk him for every drop you could. You swallowed him all down.
He pushed at your shoulders to stop, sounds escaping him that you never heard from a man. “Too good,” he panted.
You grinned. You wiped at the corners of your mouth. “You’re dangerous,” he said.
You blinked up innocently at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said.
His eyebrows raised and he chuckled, wiping the sweat from his brow. “Remember you said that,” he said.
He scooted the chair back and stood up, helping you to your feet. He pushed you into the room and closed the balcony door, leaving behind a tiny crack to still let in the breeze from the ocean.
He unzipped your dress and dropped it to the floor, sighing at the look of your body. You never felt so cherished during sex. You weren’t expecting love and all that crap whenever you took someone to bed. It was more like an overwhelming itch that needed to be scratched.
After the deed, your anxiety returned with a vengeance and you were the first out of the door. No one wanted to deal with an anxious mess after getting off.
With Stunna, there was none of that usual nervousness or shyness holding you back. You just wanted him.
Your soaked panties went next. He knelt down, doing all the work of removing it. He kissed along your spine and back, the globes of your ass, and the back of your thighs. You shivered at the attention. The care with which he removed your panties.
He stood back up and unhooked your bra, freeing your breasts. He eagerly grabbed them from behind and rolled your nipples between his fingers. He pulled you until you leaned back against him.
“Can’t wait to get these in my mouth. I wanna be a gentleman, but fuck. I just want to break you,” he said.
A vicious tingle spread around your thighs. “I never asked you to be a gentleman,” you said.
He chuckled. “Fair, but I don’t wanna scare you away,” he said.
“I’m a big girl. I can use my words when I need to,” you said.
“Yeah? Get on the bed then. Hands and knees, bad girl,” he said. He smacked your ass, hard and you did as instructed. You climbed into his bed and got on your hands and knees.
You were too far away however. He grabbed your hips roughly and pulled you to the edge of the bed. He gripped himself and shoved into your inviting pussy with one savage thrust. His grip on your hip prevented you from escaping. You tried to lean forward, but he held you in place.
He pressed on your back until your chest was against the bed. Your ass was high in the air, giving him total access to you. He smacked your ass.
“You been talkin’ mad shit all night,” he said. He began to stroke, delivering hard and long thrusts that immediately found your G-spot.
“Oh shit!” You cried out.
“That’s my shit.” You heard the pleased grin in his tone. How did he find it so fast?
He continued to stroke, hitting your sweet spot over and over with military precision. He smacked your ass with one hand while the other kept a firm grip. “You ain’t so bold now. A little dick shuts you up?” He asked.
You couldn’t speak. He was slamming into you so hard, just the way you always dreamt of. It brought tears to your eyes. Most guys were afraid to be rough. Afraid of catching a case once you asked them to go a little deeper or stroke a little harder.
Not Stunna. He drove into you, seeking something you couldn’t name. It didn’t take long before you were convulsing, shaking on his dick.
“Talk to me, then. Say somethin’ else,” he said.
“Achgg,” you moaned, eyes rolling.
Stunna continued to work himself inside of you. His dick speared you. Nearly split you in half. You bounced back on his dick, giving as much as you got.
“Fuck,” he moaned. “Don’t let me stand in your way. You take what you need from me,” he said.
Wet, smacking noises filled the room. The sound of your combined fucking pushed another orgasm to the surface. Your ass clapped on his thighs. Your screams were sure to draw the attention of his neighbors.
He leaned forward and wrapped his hands around your throat. “Fuuh,” you moaned.
Both of you matched each other’s intensity. He pulled you by your throat to swallow every long inch of him. Your desperate thrusts sounded like thunder against his skin.
“Goh, goh, fuh,” you chanted in rapid succession.
“So good, so good. Pussy feel so good. You were made to take this dick, weren’t you? You were made for it,” he groaned.
Your hands feebly held onto the bed in front of you but there was no use. This was so intense and passionate that your orgasm crushed you into a tiny ball and flung you into a tornado. You screamed until you were hoarse. Drool leaked out of your mouth with your whiny cries.
Stunna continued to hold your throat and pound, chasing his own climax. “Greedy ass. Fuck, you take me so well,” he groaned.
You were shaking as you rode out your orgasm. As soon as you ended, he began. He flooded your pussy with his cum, roaring like an animal as he climaxed. Your body twitched and spasmed on his dick. His dick hit something deep inside, too deep to know what. But it hit a natural reset.
Stunna let go of your throat and held onto your hips to keep from falling on top of you. You both panted, harsh breaths filling the room. You sniffled as you recovered, brain quiet for once.
Stunna slipped out of you and he leaned back to watch his cum slip out. He panted and his breaths fell across your ass and pussy.
“Fuck,” he said.
You agreed. You never felt something like that before. Possessed. Owned. It was a feeling you would spend your entire life trying to find again. Would you be able to?
Both of you were too wobbly to move. As if with your dual climaxes, you had entered a new plane of existence. Being back in the real world sucked. It seemed foreign. You were changed by the experience so why hadn’t the world changed?
Stunna left to go to the bathroom and returned with a warm washcloth. You cried at the sensation. “Shh, shh, I got you,” he said.
The rough fucking was everything you needed but you were fucking sore. You ached. It felt too damn good for you to complain though. He gently cleaned you up, wiping you down and wiping off some of the sweat.
You curled up into a ball, trying to will yourself to move. To get dressed and make your escape. You felt like the sex police would descend from the ceiling and arrest you for upsetting the natural law of the universe.
You couldn’t move. You felt too raw, too exposed. You focused on your breathing, on drawing air in and then out. Stunna returned from the bathroom and you cringed at the picture you must make.
“I’ll leave just as soon as my legs work,” you mumbled.
Stunna chuckled. “Can you stay?” He sat on the bed in front of you. You were too afraid to look in his eyes. You didn’t know if you were over exaggerating the moment. You wouldn’t be able to bear it if you felt like your world tilted on its axis while it was just Friday night to him.
Stunna laid down on the bed and lifted your chin with his fingers. “Please, stay,” he whispered.
His eyes swirled with emotion. As if the moment you left, this would all disappear from memory. Until he wasn’t sure if he dreamt this or it was real. It only mirrored what you were feeling so you nodded and he grinned. “What you need?”
For your skin to feel like it wasn't going to slough off the moment you unfurled. You looked at him with wide eyes. He nodded as if he understood the turmoil inside of you. He stood up and then came around to lay behind you. His hands came around your arms and knees, pulling you into the heat of his body.
You sighed. Exactly what you needed. He pulled the covers over you, wrapping you in a tiny cocoon of heat. You drifted off to the sound of his quiet breathing. The last thing you felt was a tiny kiss behind your ear.
In the morning, you yawned and stretched. Stunna was asleep next to you. Somehow, you were laying properly in the bed, head on a pillow and his hand draped across your tummy. You watched him in the early morning light.
This was dangerous. Ludicrous. It was crazy to feel this type of connection with someone else. Someone so obviously built for you yet it couldn’t last. Tomorrow you were flying back home. On Monday, it was back to classes.
After taking a peek at the edge of the universe, how did you go back to normal? How did you carry on and keep this in your memory bank?
You had to get out. You lifted his hand to scoot away from him. Away from the oppressive heat that made sweat pool behind your knees.
Stunna groaned and sniffed, pulling you back against his side. “Where you think you going?” He asked.
You giggled. “Back to my suite,” you said.
“You was gonna sneak out? That’s cold,” he said. His deep voice was rough from sleep and it made your pussy flutter. Really? After all that last night, she was still ready to go?!
“Sneak is such an ugly word.” You sighed as he finally cracked one eye open and looked at you.
“At least let me get you breakfast. You can get changed and meet me right back here,” he said.
You laughed. “What if I have plans?” You asked.
“You do. With me,” he said.
You shook your head. “You’re crazy.”
He grabbed your hand and linked your fingers together. Your hands were perfect against each other, skin tones perfectly aligned.
“Please? Text your friends and tell them you’re safe. When do you leave?” He asked.
“Tomorrow,” you said.
“See? Give me one last day until we can figure out when we’ll see each other again.”
You sighed. You couldn’t say no to that face. Those eyes. You bit your lip and nodded. He grinned, peppering you with kisses all over your face.
He ordered room service and ate you out before it came up. He moaned and suckled while he did so, grinding his hips into the bed like he wanted to bury his face into your pussy forever.
When the food arrived, you talked and ate and laughed, sharing more details about yourself but not personal information like the fact that you were in school or where he was working. You talked through safe subjects but all the information you gathered about him, you held it close to your heart.
Each passing moment spent with him carved out a section of your heart and replaced it with a gorgeous, sexy man named Stunna. You did make it back to your room where your friends gushed over your night. You still had no words but you squealed while you showered and begged their forgiveness while you planned to spend the day with Stunna.
They encouraged you, admitting that in a move that surprised no one, they found their way to their own flavor of the day. They agreed to come back to the room at a decent hour to pack away their shit and figure out their flight.
You spent the rest of the day with Stunna, outside of his suite, walking around the resort. It had a small gambling area where he tried to show you how to play poker. He was a very sweet teacher, but you couldn’t make heads nor tails of the rules. You were more of a spades player, but good luck finding that shit here.
You shared desserts and walked along the beach, sitting in the sand in between his legs and talking some more. Stunna stole kisses throughout the day, unwilling to leave your lips for the second it took to breathe and join back together.
As night fell, you ate dinner with him and found your way back to his room where you slowly peeled each other’s clothes off. Where you feasted your eyes on his skin. Gasped as he entered you once more and you gave each other untold amounts of pleasure.
Where he held you like he loved you but fucked you like you stole something from him. You came, looking into his molten brown eyes, nuzzling your cheek against the stubble on his chin. He came with your legs pinned to the mattress and his dick threatening to fuck you into the mattress, the floor, and the next floor down.
You kissed and cuddled while you talked about talking to him every day. He entered you again while you were stubborn, saying you might be busy.
“Naw, this shit belong to me now,” he said while he thrusted into you for the…third time that night? Fourth? Who kept count while his delicious dick was inside you and you felt whole again? Complete.
“It belongs to me,” you said.
He grinned and bit your nipple, then licked away the sting. He continued to nibble across delicate skin, moaning when he found your other nipple and tugged with his teeth. You hissed and your back curved, giving him all the access he wanted.
“Do we have a problem?” He asked.
“Do we?” You countered.
He grinned and then slipped out of you, only to hike one of your legs up in the air. He reentered you from the side, slamming into you until you were crying and shaking on his dick, screaming out his name.
“Stay talkin’ shit,” he groaned as he filled you up once more.
Saying goodbye to him was the hardest shit you ever had to do. It was like you both knew that even with talking every day, it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t the same as lying next to him and feeling him take up space in the room, in your heart, in your pussy.
He kept tugging you back for one more kiss, asking if he could walk you to your room. You were blinking back tears. You didn’t want to leave him. But you couldn’t stay either. Both of you had places to be, lives to get back to.
He leaned in the doorframe, holding your hand and not letting you leave. You smiled. “Stunna, you have to let go.”
“I’on want to,” he said.
“It’s not forever,” you said, trying to sound hopeful. Your words only sounded sad. He sighed and rubbed his head on his arm.
“I know. I know.”
He pulled you close to him, capturing your lips with a devastating kiss. You licked his lips, committing the taste and smell of him to memory. “Not forever,” he said.
“Not forever.”
You turned and snatched your hand. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t have the strength to leave. A cold numbness seeped into your bones as you made the trek to your suite. Stella and Angela commented on how melancholy you seemed.
How could you explain it? That you possibly found your soulmate in Punta Cana and had to leave him here? To be happy with texts and phone calls? Poor substitutes to hugging him, cuddling him, kissing him, fucking him?
You told them that you were all fucked out to explain it now. Ask you in a week. When your heart wasn’t broken and the pain was less intense. Less potent.
They left you alone to wallow while you all packed up your things and souvenirs. The ride back home was uneventful. You weren’t up to the usual plane shenanigans of talking and comparing in-flight meals. You didn’t feel like eating at all.
You texted Stunna that you arrived safely and even spoke to him on the phone. But it only hurt worse. “C’mon, we said not forever,” he said.
The bastard was right though. Hearing his voice in your ear helped but it wasn’t the same.
“Not forever. I just want you here,” you said.
“I know. We did a few things backward, but when we’re comfortable, we’ll arrange something,” he said.
You talked until you absolutely had to go to sleep to get ready for class. Luckily, your first class of the day was in the afternoon. You had a chance to recover from the plane ride and time difference.
Everything was dull. The California sun was dull. The campus was boring. Students felt like aliens to you, playing and existing in a world that ended for you back in Punta Cana in Stunna’s arms.
You sighed, not for the hundredth time, as you dragged your carcass across campus and to your class. Settling into your literature class, you didn’t share this with Stella and Angela. You were left to look out of the window, mind far, far away.
Your pen tapped on the desk, picturing that accidental bump into Stunna over and over again. Act of fate? Accident? How could you meet the love of your life only for you to be ripped away from him and planted back into your normal life like nothing was wrong?
The door opened and you assumed your teacher came through. Whatever.
“Sorry, I’m late. Not used to the campus yet.”
Your head whipped around and there he was. Stunna stood at the front of the class wearing a deep brown sweater over chocolate colored pants. The sleeves were rolled up revealing his smooth forearms.
He wrote his name on the whiteboard and your heart seized in your chest. Panic made your heart pound against your rib cage, practically screaming to be let out. You sunk in your seat. Ohgodohgodohgodohgod.
Stunna turned around and smiled at the class. When his eyes found yours, his jaw dropped and he stared. He stared and stared and you didn’t know what he was thinking or what he was going to do.
He cleared his throat and smiled at the class, introducing his real name. Not that you thought Stunna was his real name, but it was the name he usually went by. His eyes kept returning to yours.
You…slept with your college professor. Your life was over. Ruined. How the hell could you fall in love with your professor? And what the hell were you going to do now?
The Secret Big Stunna Files | Part 2
#Megaminds Secret Files#The Secret Big Stunna Files#Big Stunna x Black!reader#Big Stunna x Black reader#x Black reader#Big Stunna x Fem!reader#Big Stunna x Fem reader#Big Stunna x reader#Big Stunna x you#yahya abdul mateen ii#yahya abdul mateen ii fanfiction#All Day and a Night fanfic#All Day and a Night fan fic#All Day and a Night fan fiction#All Day and a Night fanfiction#Yahya abdul mateen ii fan fiction
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Stay With Me
Pairing: Tyrone x Black!Fem!Shy!reader / Plus Size reader
Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Smut, PWP, cursing, PIV, oral (male and fem receiving), cum play, possession kink, size kink, breeding kink if you squint, all consensual. Praise kink. Use of n-word. Mention of depression. Mentions of negative self-talk.
Summary: You never thought in a million years that Tyrone would look at you with desire in his eyes. Tonight, he does.
Word Count: 5,885k
A/N: I....sort of went overboard with this. I'm going to be soooo groggy in the morning! I hope I did it justice! Likes are always awesome. Please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers!
Taglist: @planetblaque @dayjlovesromance @sevikasblackgf @melaninpov @amyhennessyhouse @henneseyhoe @honeyoriginalz @justheretostan @black-fairy3 @superhoeva @jarfulloftears @hereformiles @montysstuffs @westside-rot @blackerthings @blowmymbackout @euphoric05 @miyuhpapayuh @nicolexnight @8ttached @judymfmoody @wakandas-vibranium @soft-persephone
“Man, get the fuck off my porch,” Tyrone spat out and callously slammed the metal door in front of the girl’s face. You almost felt sorry for her. Almost. It was Tyrone. Of course he was gonna act like a dog after he got some play. You weren’t blaming her. But you had to keep your heart out of being with Tyrone.
The girl continued yelling so he slammed the wooden door in her face as well. It cut out of the long stream of curses and names she was calling him. She called his name and banged on the metal door, the sharp sound hurting your ears.
You watched Tyrone shake his head and return to the couch next to you. You hid a smile as you looked him over. He wore his usual dickies and black T-shirt and his hair was pulled into smooth cornrows. He blew out a breath and shook his head, settling into the couch and pointedly ignoring the banging on his door.
“Bitch act like she the police,” he muttered.
You turned your attention back to your phone. The TV played some type of game. You didn’t bother to remember which one. Tyrone endlessly flipped through channels never settling on anything.
“Go on and say it,” he said.
You looked at him and smirked. He settled sideways into the couch so that he was partially laying on your legs. You were propped against the arm of the couch, your elbow digging into the rough fabric.
“I ain’t say nothin’,” you said quietly. Even after all these years knowing Tyrone, you never managed to get over how hot he was. There was a subtle attractiveness about him. His energy or his vibe or just the way he walked and moved.
“But you want to, so go on,” he said. He turned his attention back to the TV but you saw the way his jaw flexed. He hated unnecessary drama. Well, that’s what he said. And yet, there was always some girl chasing after him because of how he dogged them out.
The girl at his door finally gave up banging on it. It was clear Tyrone wasn’t going to answer. You couldn’t tell Tyrone shit. Not a damn thing. Once he set his mind to something, there was no moving him.
For someone that hated drama so much, he was constantly in the middle of it. Whether it was his dealing, his boys, or the skirts he chased.
“There’s nothing I can say that you ain’t heard before,” you said. You smirked at your phone. Tyrone would have another girl on his porch soon. Upset and angry. Rightfully so. Tyrone never promised tomorrow. Yet without fail, there was someone thinking that they could change him. That was like expecting the sun not to rise.
“But yo ass gonna sit there smug and shit until you say somethin’,” he said.
“You make it sound like I nag,” you said and rolled your eyes.
“Might as well,” he said.
You kicked at his shoulder and he turned and bit your calf. “Ass,” you told him.
“Come on, shit,” he said.
You rolled your eyes and stared at him. “You need to be more selective with these girls you fuckin’. They stay on your damn porch,” you said.
“I can’t help it. I see some sexy ass thighs and I wanna get between ‘em,” he said. He looked at you but you knew the comment wasn’t directed at you. You ignored the long standing ache in your chest. It wasn’t his fault that you couldn’t control who you were attracted to.
Look at him! How could anyone not be attracted to him? Tyrone moved through the world like it owed him something. Like it was his God-given right to breathe this air, walk these streets. That type of confidence and self-assuredness was attractive.
You on the other hand…you knew you were shy and awkward and weird. The adjectives were like scarlet letters painted on your forehead. You had been called all three your whole life. Like they were dirty words equivalent to calling you a slut or a whore.
There was nothing wrong with those things. But if you heard it enough, it tended to take on a new meaning. One that you couldn’t leave behind. The scarlet letters proclaimed your identity before you had a chance to introduce yourself to someone. One look at you and people sized you up. Whittled away any chance of proving them wrong. Add in your resting bitch face and you turned people away without trying.
No kidding, today, you overheard someone say, “nah, she look mean” when they were looking for a place to sit. Was it a crime to not smile all the damn time? No one told men to smile that often. As if you were supposed to deal with bullshit day in and day out with a goofy ass smile on your face.
Tyrone waved his hand in front of your face. “You stay spacin’ the fuck out,” he said.
“I heard you, I was just thinkin’. You can help it. You just don’t want to,” you said. You went back to scrolling through your phone.
“What’s wrong with liking sex?”
You shrugged. “Nothin’. You could use some discretion though. How you know these people are clean?”
You shivered. The last thing you wanted was a sexually transmitted disease. The thought of it was embarrassing enough. You couldn’t imagine looking a doctor in the eye and explaining what happened.
“I wrap my shit. Plus, I don’t fuck every bitch I meet,” he said.
You laughed so hard that you threw your head back on the couch. Your sides hurt as you laughed.
“It ain’t that fuckin’ funny,” he mumbled, sucking his teeth. That only made you laugh harder. If there was one thing you could say to describe Tyrone, it was that he was a whore. An entire whore.
Whenever you hung out, he and the boys would see a fine girl walking by and crane their necks looking at her ass. You were relegated to “one of the boys”. They knew full well that you were a girl and were capable of being fine too. But no one took the time to warm up to you. No one desired you that way. You didn’t turn heads. You made people laugh until they realized you were worth looking into.
It wasn’t a dig at yourself. You just knew your role in life. You were like the song on the playlist that someone added and forgot about. Until you came up on shuffle and the listener realized that you were actually fire.
You sobered up with a deep sigh. Giggles still escaped you but Tyrone was not having it. He stared you down as if you kicked his puppy. “I’m just sayin’. You got a rep,” you said.
“A rep for layin’ pipe,” he said with a cocky grin. You rolled your eyes. Why did you bother with him in the first place?
“Sex should mean something, Tyrone,” you said.
He sucked his teeth and rolled his eyes. “That’s ‘cause you ain’t had no good dick,” he said.
A strangled noise escaped you before you kicked at his shoulder. He moved out of the way. You did manage to kick him a little. He chuckled and held onto your foot to prevent you from kicking him more.
“I’ve had good dick, thank you very much!” You said.
“Bullshit. You’d still be fuckin’ if you had good dick,” he said.
“That’s not true. If you layin’ good pipe like you say, you fuck anything that moves. I’m just not into sharing like that. I ain’t trynna have my vag on fire,” you huffed and concentrated on your phone.
Usually, you and Tyrone had an unspoken rule. He and the crew talked about their escapades all they wanted and you pretended to be grossed out and uninterested. You never mentioned your stories. There wasn’t much to tell. And they knew it. But they never made fun of you for it. Worse. They thought it was adorable.
Because yeah, the one thing you wanted to be was adorable. Just once, you’d like to be sought after. To have someone hot and sexy in your DMs begging to get in between your legs.
People thought overweight girls were supposed to be happy with the ashy niggas. The dorks who couldn’t hold a conversation. The ugly muthafuckas with an uglier personality who thought you should suck they dick because they held the door open once.
“A’ight, who you fuck that had good dick?” Tyrone asked.
“I’m not telling you!” The tips of your ears burned as you tore your gaze away from him. For fuck’s sake, you’ve told worse things to your girls. You and your girls got graphic. Recounting sexual encounters and rating them amongst the others. Your girls had more stories than you, naturally. Damn. You really ought to stop putting yourself down.
Tyrone chuckled. “‘Cause you ain’t had no good dick, that’s why,” he said. He shook his head and went back to flipping channels.
Dismissed. Just like that. Your ears burned for different reasons. “I ain’t gotta prove shit to you, Tyrone. Worry about yourself and your diseased dick,” you said.
“Nothin’ diseased about my shit. Wanna see?” Tyrone went to the fly of his pants and your eyes widened.
“Something is seriously wrong with you,” you said. Just like that, you were laughing again. Tyrone was the only person who yanked your emotions around. You shouldn’t let him get to you. But he claimed to do it so that you would loosen up.
“I’m not a robot,” you had told him one day.
“I know. But you cool as shit and you won’t let anybody see it,” he had said back. That shut you up for about a week. Tyrone had to track you down and drag you out of the house, thinking you were in a depressive mood. You didn’t have the confidence to tell him that what he said shifted your axis.
You thought he only saw you like an annoying sister he had to drag everywhere. You practically grew up together. Your houses were right across the street from each other. If he was outside, you were outside with him. So to hear him give you a compliment touched parts of you that you learned to bury.
You blinked and turned to Tyrone who was leaning over you, his face closer to you than it’s ever been. Even when he had chased you when you were twelve and you both got tangled in the water hose and fell on top of each other.
“I can help you with that, you know,” he said.
“With what?” Your voice was quiet.
He slowly licked his lips as his eyes trailed down. “Gettin’ you some good dick,” he said.
You chuckled. “How you gonna do that? Gonna put an ad out for the big chick needin’ dick?”
“Why you do that?” He asked.
“Do what?” You were starting to get an attitude. Whatever game he was playin’, you wanted no parts of it. This was a cruel joke, even for him. And he never let you live down your prom. Not because of how you look, but because of how your date looked. He still brought it up.
“You stay puttin’ yourself down. Like you gotta do it first or somethin’.”
You gaped at him. “I-” You didn’t have anything to say to that. It was instinct to call out the elephant in the room. If not, someone else did it and was way meaner. You weren’t going to let anyone make you feel bad about yourself. But your self-deprecating humor was hurting you more. Perhaps you wanted someone to correct you, just once. To say, “fuck that, you sexy as hell”. It was a stupid wish.
“I’m just sayin’. I can help you out with it,” he said.
“You want to fuck me,” you said. You tried to hold in your laugh. You tried to take him seriously, but you felt a slow grin cross your face. He didn’t smile back. Instead, his eyes narrowed and he looked at your lips.
“Damn right. Been trynna fuck you for a while,” he said.
Your jaw dropped. Where the hell was this coming from? You sat up straight but he was still near you. He was close enough that you smelled his spicy scent and could see the dark pools of brown in his eyes. Only a few inches separated your lips from his big, juicy ones.
“What?”
He grinned. The cocky muthafucka. “Ain’t you noticed it’s just been us hanging around lately?”
No. It wasn’t until he said it that you realized. The boys had been noticeably absent. Instead of hanging with them while they roamed the streets or sat outside Tyrone’s porch, it had been just you and Tyrone. Watching TV, playing games, or taking drives up the 405 when the traffic died down. You were just happy to spend time with him. Any way you could get him.
You thought it was awesome that his crew didn’t want to hang lately. You got to be selfish and have Tyrone’s attention. That was him…flirting?
“Oh,” you said.
He laughed and shook his head. “I figured yo ass didn’t know,” he said.
He stood up, giving you enough time to breathe and deal with this turn of events. You ran through every interaction, wondering how you could be so blind.
“Nuh uh. Don’t disappear on me,” he said. He pulled you up off of the couch and took your phone. He tossed it on the couch and led you down the short hallway to his room. You had been there plenty of times. You had cracked jokes with the rest of his friends that it was radioactive with how much sex he was having. He’d wave you away, saying it wasn’t like that.
You expected it to be gross. But it was refreshingly clean. He still had shit everywhere, though. Stray clothes piled on his desk chair, clothes spilling out of the closet. He had a wall of shoes stretching towards the ceiling. What was it with guys and shoes?
He closed the door after leading you into the room. You stood there, awkwardly. You weren’t sure what to do. You hadn’t had enough time to freak out about this new development.
He chuckled at your awkwardness and grabbed your hand again, pushing you onto the bed. “What you say? You wanna see what we can get into?” He asked.
You looked at him. He wasn’t pushing you. You could’ve pulled your hand away in the living room and told him that he was crazy. “You wanna fuck me,” you said. You still couldn’t believe him. You pictured this so many times in your head. But now that it was offered to you on a silver platter, you felt like a virgin all over again.
You were aware of everything. Every sigh that left his lips. The subtle drape of his shirt on your bare arm. The heat leaping off of him.
“I wanna fuck you,” he said.
“Why?” You asked. You swear, you weren’t trying to be this dense. It just didn’t make sense to you.
“Why not? You’re fine as hell. And funny. You cool as shit,” he said.
You bit your lip as you went through all the women he had been with. He didn’t really have a type. Petite and cute was a common theme. Petite as in being short as hell. You supposed he never really been with a super skinny chick.
Tyrone was a big boy. He had some meat on them bones and it showed every time he moved. He was a solid dude. He’d probably break someone that was skinny.
The wet heat of his lips pressed against yours and you gasped. Tyrone pulled back and grinned. “Stay with me. C’mon, give me a chance,” he said.
You grinned and leaned forward, kissing him for real this time. Tyrone pushed his tongue in, rolling it against yours. You felt it down to your core. You moaned softly.
“Take these off for me,” he said. He tugged on your shirt and played with the hem of your shorts.
You stood up and pulled off your shirt. Then you unzipped your shorts and shucked them off. You stood there in your bra and panties, feeling both turned on and incredibly shy. You crossed your arms but he shook his head. He peeled your arms away from your chest and he looked his fill.
You were too nervous to look him in the eye. To look at his face. Goddamn it. You didn’t hate the way you looked. But you couldn’t get over your insecurities. “Can we turn off the light…?”
“Fuck no!” He scooted closer to the edge of the bed and grabbed your hips. He pulled you closer to stand between his legs. He rubbed your sides, your ass, and your thighs. He kissed your belly and you gasped.
He looked up at you. He licked your stretch marks. You placed your hands on his shoulders to keep your legs from folding. How long has it been since you had sex? A while. And that had been a desperate attempt at latching onto the first halfway decent guy to look your way.
He nibbled on your love handles, squeezing your flesh so he could take a big bite. You slapped his shoulder and he laughed. “That shit hurt!”
“Good,” he said. He looked at you, daring you to do something about it. Again, insecurities robbed you of any idea of what to do next. You wanted to be sexy and take the lead. You wanted to entice him. Instead, you stood there while he kneaded the back of your thighs.
“Hey, relax. Stay with me,” he said.
He prompted you to climb into his lap. You placed your knees on the side of him and rested on his lap. His thick cock pushed against his shorts and you gasped as you got your first feel of it.
Okay, you sort of got why these girls would bang on his door like that. He ran his hands up and down your back as he kissed you slowly. He played with your lips. First he’d kiss you. Then he’d pull back and lick your lips. Then, he’d run his tongue across your teeth and you shuddered.
He was content to do just that. Until you were squirming in his lap, trying to get some friction. He ran his hands across your back, fiddling with your bra until he unclipped it. He drew the cups down until it hung on your arms. You moved your hands from around his neck, but he shook his head.
“Put that shit back and hol’ on,” he said. You smiled and put it back on his shoulders. He kept his eyes on you as he put his head down and licked the top of your breast. You stuttered with a sigh.
He moaned as he latched on to your nipple and started to suck. “Oh shit,” you said. You leaned up, you weren’t expecting him to suck that hard. In fact, you hadn’t known your nipples were that sensitive. Guys mostly ignored them, too busy trying to fuck.
But Tyrone worshiped your titties. He went from one to the other, sucking and nibbling on your nipples. He sucked and yanked on one and it was like he yanked on your clit. Your wetness was pooling in your panties and you wiggled. If you were bare, his shorts would be ruined. You hissed as he yanked harder.
“Fuck!” You said and tapped his shoulder. He let go with a wet pop and your nipple stayed beaded and swollen. He did the same thing to your other titty. “You do this shit to other bitches?”
“Fuck no. You ain’t no bitch to me,” he said. He laved at your titty, encircling it with his tongue before he flicked it. You made all kinds of sounds as your eyes rolled back a bit. His hands gripped your ass and slid you higher on his lap.
Surely, he had to be hurting. His crotch was bulging and thick. It couldn’t have been comfortable for him.
His words finally registered and you melted into him, pushing your chest into his face. He grinned. “Yeah, that’s right. Give me that shit,” he said. He reverently licked and sucked on your titties until your panties were truly damp. You didn’t have time to overthink. There was nothing but his heavenly mouth on your breasts.
A strangled sigh left you. You were grinding down on his dick. You almost had him in the perfect spot to rub against your clit.
Abruptly, he stood up with you in his arms. You panicked. All the tension returned as you left the ground. You clung to him and he chuckled. “I got you,” he said. He kissed your cheek and the corner of your mouth until you focused on him instead of how much it would suck to crash to the ground. Carpet or not, the shit would hurt.
He laid you down on the bed and removed his shirt and pants. He rubbed himself over his briefs but he leaned down and took off your bra completely. He kissed your neck, licked your collarbone, and continued down. His hands peeled your legs apart and you moaned at the force he used.
“So fuckin’ pretty,” he murmured into your skin. “You wet for me?”
He didn’t wait for you to answer. His fingers traced your pussy through your panties and he groaned in satisfaction feeling the wet spot there. You gyrated on his hand while he kissed his way back up to your face.
He pressed his thumb in, pushing your panties into your clit and he rubbed harder. “Oh shit,” you moaned. He swallowed your moans. He kissed you and continued to play with you over your panties until you were panting and shaking.
He kissed down to your ear and bit at your earlobe. “Let that shit go,” he said.
You whimpered before your knees slapped together and you came with his hand still on you. “You so pretty when you cum,” he whispered in your ear.
He stood up with a satisfied smirk as he watched the last dregs of your orgasm leave you. He removed your sopping wet panties and kissed your knees when he finally got them off. He rubbed and caressed your thighs until you were relaxing against him once more.
He opened your legs and stared at your pussy. “Fuck. So fuckin’ pretty. You ain’t had nobody work yo shit, huh?”
You shook your head but realized he may not have seen it. “No,” you admitted. No one had done half the things that Tyrone just did. He made you cum without really touching you. You weren’t sure if you should be embarrassed or impressed. It should not be that easy to get you off. It usually took you a long while. So much so, that you gave up foreplay with men.
Tyrone stuck his nose against your clit and inhaled. You yelped and jerked up the bed. He bit your thigh and his arms hooked under your legs. He pulled you back down and placed his nose against you, sniffing you. He rubbed his nose in your wetness and you choked on a half laugh, half moan.
“Goddamn,” he moaned. His tongue darted out to get a taste and he moaned again. “Taste fuckin’ good too. Matter of fact, I’m mad at you now,” he said.
You leaned up on your elbows and looked at him. He was a damn good sight to behold. His head was still dipped between your thick thighs and the look on his face…you wished you could take a picture. He looked hungry. His eyes were wide and he kept licking his lips as if you were still on his tongue.
“What you mad at me for?” You asked.
“Keeping this fuckin’ pussy from me,” he said. You choked on a laugh. He dipped down and ran his tongue from your pussy to your clit. Your hips bucked and he held you down with his arms.
He held you in place as he continued to lick you like ice cream. He was slow and methodical, letting you feel his tongue as it swirled around your wetness. Your pussy pulsed in time with his licks and you squirmed on the bed.
“Oh fuck,” you moaned. You were near crying. He teased you without mercy. He brought you to the brink of cumming over and over, only to retreat and play with something else until your ass was back on the bed.
A giant wet spot spread under your ass as you gushed arousal. He placed open mouth kisses on your clit, dragging his lips through either side of it. “Fuck, please. Please Tyrone,” you murmured.
“Please what?” He asked and lazily circled your clit again.
You bit your lip. You didn’t know what you were begging for. Begging to cum? Begging for him to do something else? Begging just to beg?
“Let me hear what you want from me.” He nosed through your slick and you bucked. “Let me hear that sexy, squeaky ass voice,” he said.
You laughed. It was more like a few puffs of air. Sweat gathered everywhere. You should feel gross. Instead, you finally felt…desired. He wasn’t down there, eating you out as a prerequisite for having sex. He was down there because he wanted to be.
He suckled sharply on your clit and you hissed. “I ain’t gonna keep tellin’ yo ass to stay with me. Get out of your head for once,” he said.
You grinned at him. “Yes, sir.”
He moaned and licked at your clit. “Say that shit again, I like that,” he said.
“Yes, sir,” you said.
He grinned around your pussy. Your slick dripped down his chin. His entire face was wet with your juices and it only turned you on. He moaned as he felt your pussy clench. He was bringing you to the edge again. You couldn’t stand it.
Your body was overheated. Your hands clutched at his sheets desperately. You licked your lips. “Please…I need to cum,” you said.
“You think you deserve to cum?” He asked. “Ain’t I already give you one?” He continued to lap at your slick and you twitched and jerked with the painful need to cum. Your belly was too tight.
“Please, please, please,” you said. You threw your head back and forth. You needed something, soon. If you were denied one more time…
“Please, Tyrone. Don’t…I need to cum, please,” you babbled. You were saying anything at this point. You may have offered him your first born or a lifetime of blow jobs. You weren’t sure. But his deep, rumbling laugh skated over your sensitive skin. He rarely laughed. Each time he did, you cataloged it for later. When you were indulging in a delusion that involved him and this exact scenario.
“Since you asked so nicely,” he said. If you thought he was serious before, it was nothing compared to how he attacked your clit. Like a starving man who’d just been offered a king’s feast. He flicked your clit with the tip of his tongue. Playing with the swollen nub until you were stuttering and hollering.
Tears of relief finally leaked out as you came with a high wail. You felt like you were inside out and upside down. You entered a sixth dimension somewhere. There was only pleasure. Unwavering, unbridled pleasure that swept over you in waves higher than the ocean. You were lost and unmoored. Head empty.
You panted as you drifted back into your body. Somewhere between all of that, Tyrone had cleaned off his face and his briefs were gone. He looked down at you and stroked himself as he watched you.
You struggled to your elbows as cold air hit the giant wet spot beneath you. It was lurid, the way you sat in a puddle like that. A puddle of your own making. You didn’t know you were capable of being that wet.
You wiped sweat from your skin. You needed what he held in his hands. You sat up, your eyes focused on his dick. You wanted to return the favor. You wanted to suck him off. To bring him to the brink of oblivion like he just did for you.
He chuckled as you reached for him. He stood close and you took him into your mouth. “Fuck,” he said. He threw his head back and jerked his hips forward.
You went to work, bobbing up and down on his dick. He barely fit. You sucked and slobbered all over him, sucking him in as far as he could go. You used your hands to get to the rest of him, twisting your hands and letting your slobber drip down his dick to make your hands glide better.
“Goddamn, suck that shit. Show me you want this dick,” he encouraged. Sighs and moans escaped his mouth as you pleased him. He encouraged you to go faster and faster until his hips were jerking. He grabbed your head and slammed you further onto his dick. He fucked your face until you were gagging on him. The sound only spurned him on, to keep going and fucking your mouth.
“Better swallow this shit,” he said. He let loose, cumming with a loud groan. You lied earlier. You wanted to take a picture of him like this. With his eyes closed and his jaw slack. His face scrunched between pleasure and pain.
His hot load squirted down your throat. You gulped the salty taste of him down. Every last drop. He cursed as he emptied the last of it. He slipped out of your mouth and ran his fingers down your lips. You licked your lips and suckled his thumb into your mouth.
He gripped your chin and moved your head from side to side. You blinked slowly at him. “You been hidin’ this mouth from me too,” he said. You shook your head with his thumb in your mouth.
“That’s a’ight. I’ma fuck that shit again. Lay back on the bed,” he said.
All hints of shyness were gone. You let go of his thumb with a wet pop and scooted further up the bed. This was Tyrone. Your best friend. There was nothing to be shy about. He loved your body. Truly loved it. And by extension, you learned to love it through his eyes.
He followed you onto the bed, his knees sliding between your legs and pushing until you were completely spread before him. He placed his hands on either side of you, the bed dipping under his strength.
He leaned on one hand and lined himself up. There was something in the back of your mind, but you couldn’t think what it was. The thought eluded you as he slowly worked his way in.
His eyes closed and his mouth twisted as he moaned on his way in. He stretched you out, impossibly big. You tensed a bit. You weren’t used to someone quite this big. He noticed and started to kiss you.
He still faintly smelled like you. It was so hot, tasting yourself on his lips that you moaned and clenched around his dick. He groaned and pushed in more as you relaxed. The hand that was around his dick started to rub on your clit and you whimpered and cried.
You were still so overwhelmed by your last orgasm that you twitched every time he rubbed your clit.
“Look at you. Can’t even say shit, can you?” He asked.
You shook your head. “Feels too good. Too fuckin’ good,” you said.
“Yeah? It’s too much for you?” He pushed in further and your jaw dropped on a soundless scream.
“Goddamn it, Tyrone!” You slapped at his chest but that only made him chuckle. He grabbed the hand you slapped him with and held it to the bed. He trapped your hand there as he really started to move.
“Oh shit, oh shit,” you groaned. Your other hand pushed at him. Your nails dug into his chest leaving half moon imprints on his pec.
He increased his pace as he dropped all of his weight on you. His strokes were deeper until you were sure that the tip of his dick was hitting your cervix. “Oh shit, oh fuck,” you said.
“Yeah, talkin’ all that shit. This is what good dick feel like,” he said in your ear. He leaned up, pushing your legs to the bed so that you were neatly folded in half. At this new angle, it was like he unlocked a deeper level inside of you. You felt every inch of his dick.
“No…condom…” you breathed out.
“Shit,” he said. His eyes widened but he didn’t stop. “Feel too fuckin’ good to stop. Pussy so fuckin’ tight and wet for me,” he continued.
You clenched around him. On every stroke, he wrangled more and more incoherent sounds from you. You didn’t know what the hell you were on about. You wanted to be mad that he was hittin’ it raw. But he felt too fucking good. Too fucking right. He belonged there in between your legs. It was a silly idea, but it was true. He was made for you. You had no claim to him. You didn’t know what any of this meant, if it even meant anything.
So you held on. You scratched at his back wanting to leave some kind of memory behind. Some kind of mark to show that you were there. That you meant something to him.
“You take me so fuckin’ well. Shit. Good fuckin’ girl,” he said.
You whined. It was the words you needed. You exploded into a million shards of star dust beneath him. Light blinded you as your orgasm whipped through you once more. Your legs squeezed him and he came with you. He grunted and painted your insides with his cum. He kept stroking as if he was trying to fuck his cum in deeper. Wanting to claim you the same way you wanted to with your nails.
He dropped onto you, one big sweaty mess. You clung to him, not ready for him to leave just yet. You were still settling down and it felt like you were still fractured. Holding on to him was holding your body together at the moment.
Slowly, you opened your eyes and he lifted his head. He kissed you once and then twice, lingering. He leaned back and grinned while he panted. Completely spent.
He caressed your check. It was an unexpected show of gentleness that you didn’t think he was capable of. Don’t get it twisted. Tyrone was dangerous. But in the moment, he was just your best friend.
He looked at you as if really seeing you for the first time ever. “Stay with me,” he said.
You grinned and nodded. Yeah, you’ll stay with him.
&&&
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#Megaminds Secret Files#The Secret Tyrone Files#Tyrone x Black!reader#Tyrone x Black reader#Tyrone x Fem!reader#Tyrone x Fem reader#Tyrone x Shy!reader#Tyrone x Shy reader#Tyrone x reader#Tyrone x you#They Cloned Tyrone smut#They Cloned Tyrone fanfic#They Cloned Tyrone fan fic#They Cloned Tyrone fanfiction#They Cloned Tyrone fan fiction
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You Understand Me Now
Pairing: Franklin Saint x Black!Bratty!Fem!reader / Plus Size reader
Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Smut, PWP, cursing, PIV, fingering (female receiving), size kink, some dirty talk, all consensual. Daddy kink. Toxic smut. Mention of jail, drug use, and drinking. Angst if you squint. Established relationship.
Summary: While Franklin feels mounting pressure from setting up new business, he has to track you down and set you right.
Word Count: 3,673k
A/N: Hello brainrot, my old friend. Who needs sleep when there's smut to be had? I had TOO much fun writing this. It was written in a daze so all mistakes are mine. I just need some act right from Franklin!!! Enjoy if you do too! Thank you for so much love on my Franklin fics! I love yall. Please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers!
Taglist: @planetblaque @notapradagurl7 @miyuhpapayuh @henneseyhoe @mybonafidefeelings @blackerthings
You were shaking your ass like there was no tomorrow. The music was thumping through the floors like a live beast. You felt it in your chest. Alcohol was coursing through your system. It gave everything a hazy, bright glow. It was too loud to think and yet all roads lead to Franklin Saint.
You had been cooped up in an empty house by yourself. What use was all the shit Franklin brought in if he wasn’t there to enjoy it with you? He would leave early in the morning and not return until long after you’d gone to sleep. Your initial reaction was that he was cheating, but you knew that wasn’t the case.
You’d see Franklin dead before he cheated on you. And he’d see hell freeze over before the thought crossed his mind. You knew he loved you. He wasn’t the greatest at showing it and dammit, it hurt.
Did that mean that you had to suffer? No. No, it did not. You called up your girl and went to her place to get dressed. The hardest part about dating Franklin was all the secrets. All the lies. They sometimes got twisted in the careful web you weaved. Over time, it became easier to not leave the house at all.
Franklin was turning you into a hermit and you wanted to hate him for it. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a cell in your body that could hate that man. So you took your anger out on him in other ways. It was an insidious need gnawing in the back of your mind.
Sometimes he’d walk in with that tired grin. Too tired to give you a proper hug and a kiss. Like you weren’t worth the effort it took to check in and ask about your day. You knew that he was in the middle of important business dealings. But lately, you were feeling neglected.
Not today.
At your girl’s house, she told you she missed you and your wild days at wild parties, living it up, gone off of the weed, and having real fun. She reminded you that you were still young and you were one of the lucky ones. You didn’t have a baby to look after.
“You mu’fuckin’ right,” you said. You nodded your head, the idea taking shape the longer you sat with it. Thirty minutes later, you were both dressed like you didn’t have a man. You wore a very short skirt and off the shoulder top. Your coarse hair was pulled into a high ponytail. Your makeup was flawless.
It was practically gone now. Still you danced. Still you partied like there was no tomorrow. You left your pager at home. You didn’t care what Franklin had to say. So you shook and danced and waved off try-too-hard niggas with grabby hands.
You clasped your friend’s hand and pulled her away from yet another man in your business. Damn, couldn’t you just go out and dance? Let loose?
“I see you havin’ real fun,” you heard above you.
You gasped and straightened out. You hadn’t seen him. Felt him. Or heard as he approached. One minute, your eyes were closed dancing to Flashlight. The next minute, Franklin was staring down at you with his nose slightly flared.
“How’d you find me?” You asked.
You looked around him and noticed Leon standing by the door looking sullen. “I can get to you any time I want,” he said.
You folded your arms. The night’s festivities were catching up with you. Sweat pasted your shirt to your body. Little frizzes of hair escaped your ponytail. Your feet ached from spending hours on the makeshift dance floor. You were out of breath, staring at Franklin and wondering where his state of mind was at.
“I’m here trying to handle bidness and this is how you act?”
You sucked your teeth and rolled your eyes. “The hell was I supposed to do?” You had to yell to be heard over the funk music. “Sit at home and wait for yo Black ass to come around?”
Franklin rolled his neck. He was stressed out. You took a step forward. You longed to wrap your arms around him to hug and kiss him. To make it all better. But fuck that. Your anger was a familiar coat you threw on.
“Let’s go,” he said. He dismissed your comments altogether. He turned and you faced the wide expanse of his broad back. His black polo shirt highlighted the slope of his shoulders, his sexy walk. The length of his legs were their own turn on.
You didn’t follow him. He moved behind a dancing couple. He half turned and inclined his head. You turned around yourself. Two can play that game. You headed towards the back of the party.
You were gaining attention. Those who weren’t smoking weed, were looking at you over the tops of cups. Others were smokin’ that stupid ass crack pipe. Franklin grabbed your hand and stopped you in your tracks.
“Don’t fuckin’ embarass me. Let’s go,” he said, his whispered baritone fanning across your ear. You took a deep breath to steady yourself. Your body always reacted to him. Right now, your clit was throbbing thinking of what he was planning on doing to you. He hadn’t touched you in a week and it was driving you insane.
“You can’t tell me what to do, Franklin,” you said.
Franklin stopped looking around and fixed you with a glare so severe, it’d hurt less if he slapped you. “The fuck you just say to me?”
“You can’t tell me what to fuckin’ do, Franklin.” You emphasized his name, drawing out the syllables.
“Man, get yo ass in the car,” he said.
“Fuck you, nigga!” The rage that you cloaked yourself in was comforting in its heat. Spurned on by the alcohol, you poked at his chest. “Fuck you! Fuck you!” You slapped at his chest.
“I’m only going to say this one more time, get in the fuckin’ car,” he said. He leaned in close to you, that calm demeanor slipping back behind his eyes. He kissed you on the cheek. A quick, dispassionate kiss that only served to piss you off even more.
You opened your mouth to say something, but Franklin gripped your upper arm. He pushed you forward, around dancing people giving you the stink eye, past Leon with a little smirk on his face, and outside. The brutal LA night was cold and unforgiving against your damp skin.
“Get off me, nigga!” You yanked your arm out of his grip. He talked about you embarrassing him. But he was the one who dragged you out of the party like some baby.
Leon snickered. “Damn, you let her talk to you like that?”
Franklin took a deep breath, looking towards the sky. “For one fuckin’ day, can any of ya’ll act right? I’m sick of this shit.”
“I know you ain’t talkin’, Leon,” you said. Alcohol emboldened you. You felt invincible. Like you could hang onto a star and fly through the universe. You were ready with a scathing remark.
Franklin stood in front of you, blocking your view of Leon who had squared up, ready to pop off. Franklin’s nose flared, his mouth stuck in a grimace. “Car, now,” he said.
Oh shit. Maybe you went a little too far. “Sure thing, Franklin,” you said with a sweet smile.
You heard Franklin blow out a deep breath. “You got a way to get home?” You heard Franklin ask Leon as you walked away. You folded your arms and trudged the short distance to the curb.
You reached the car, sliding in and putting your head against the headrest. You glared at Franklin as he said goodbye to Leon. Leon was smirking. You bet they were laughing it up at your expense. At your feelings.
It paled in comparison to the lust you felt for Franklin. He walked towards the car. He was so different after he got out of jail. Tougher. Harder. There were moments where you would catch the Franklin you first fell in love with. The optimistic boy you would follow anywhere.
Franklin was a man after jail. He picked up an edginess. A shorter temper. You couldn’t tell him what to do and that made him sexier to you. He was never a weak man. But now, he was strength personified.
He climbed into the car in silence. He turned the car on and peeled out of the projects. “Not gon’ say shit?” You asked.
Franklin didn’t look at you. He kept his eyes on the road, obeying all of the traffic lights. There was no reason to give LAPD an excuse to pull you over. Not that they always needed one. Driving while Black was practically an invitation to the cops to fuck with you.
Franklin turned into his garage. You watched and listened as he closed the garage door behind you. He turned the car off and hopped out of the car. He came around to your side and opened the door.
You hated the silent treatment. It was like he had ice water in his veins. You got out of the car and stood in the open door. Arms folded. Staring across a chasm at Franklin that you couldn’t cross. Couldn’t access. You weren’t welcome.
“Sick of this shit,” you muttered.
“Get yo ass in the room and I’ll deal with you in a minute,” he said.
“No, fuck you,” you said.
That vindictive streak in you wanted to push him. To push him past the point of breaking him.
“I don’t need this fuckin’ shit! I got enough shit to deal with than hearin’ my girl shakin’ her ass for anyone to see!” His voice rose from a deadly calm to outright yelling.
“I was just dancin’,” you said with a shrug.
“Yo ass don’t listen too good, huh?” Franklin grinned cruelly and laughed. He grabbed you by the arm and tugged you inside the house. The house was lit up like a Christmas tree, as if he’d searched every room for you.
You didn’t have a chance to appreciate the sentiment as he tugged you through the house, towards your room. He pushed you onto the bed and watched you flop.
You pushed up onto your elbows but Franklin grabbed your hips and yanked your body down the bed to the edge. Your ass hung off of it. He used his leg to push yours further apart.
“Franklin?” You asked. Your voice wobbled but not with fear. You were so turned on, you didn’t trust your voice.
A sharp slap rung throughout the room. You cried out and clutched at the bed spread. Heat blossomed on your nearly exposed ass. One sharp jerk later, and it was over your hips, pushed up.
“This what you wanted right? Why yo ass was actin’ up?” He asked.
He rubbed the area that he slapped and you hissed. You were at an awkward angle. Half hanging off of the bed like you were, your heels were the only thing sort of keeping you upright. You stood on your tiptoes to brace yourself. Franklin standing in between your legs threw your balance off slightly.
Franklin ran his hands down the crack of your ass, down towards your pussy. He moved your skimpy panties aside and pressed his thumb into your entrance. You cooed and collapsed onto the bed.
“This pussy right there? Mine,” he said. He slapped your ass with his free hand and you gasped. The dichotomy of him slipping his fingers inside of you and the heat of the slap was too much already.
“Baby…”
“Naw, don’t baby me. It was Franklin earlier, wasn’t it?” He asked. He removed his thumb and quickly replaced it with his index finger. He grunted and pushed a second finger in.
“Oh, baby,” you moaned. He widened his fingers, preparing you for him.
“What happened to all that shit you was talkin’?” He asked. He leaned over over, driving his fingers in deeper. You moaned and clutched the bedspread past the point of your fingers cramping.
“I’m sorry,” you said. You moved your ass in a circle, in tune with how Franklin pumped his fingers in and out of you. As long as he kept doing that, you’d give him any answer he was looking for.
“I don’t believe you,” he whispered against your ear. He leaned back and added a third finger.
“Oh, fuck!” You moaned. Your body jerked and twitched as if you ate a live wire. Your orgasm ripped through you. Each wave hit you harder and faster, dragging you under its sweet release.
Franklin withdrew his fingers and you heard him licking each one. You huffed. This man was going to be the death of you.
Franklin massaged your ass, bringing attention back to the lingering pain. “I just missed you, baby,” you said.
“Mhmm,” he said. He took a few deep breaths. His hands grabbed a handful of your ass. He made quick work of his pants, shedding it in nearly one fell swoop. He rubbed his thick, hardening dick along your slick slit.
You bit your lip and moaned. “Pleasepleaseplease,” you said and wiggled your ass against him.
He grabbed your left wrist and pulled it behind your back. It wasn’t comfortable, but it wasn’t uncomfortable either. You twisted your wrist but Franklin didn’t give you much room. He learned forward, his polo shirt rustling against your shirt.
He brought his lips down to your ear. He licked the shell of it. Placed kisses behind your ear, into that sensitive spot. You shivered. Your desperate pussy clenched around nothing. He wrapped your hair around his fingers and pulled your head to the side for better access.
You ached. You were so empty, you could cry. Literally, tears gathered behind your closed eyelids. You needed to be filled up by him. Consumed by him. You wanted to end where he began and begin where he ended.
“The next time you need some dick, you come fuckin’ find me,” he said. He pushed into you slowly, stopping every so often so that you could get acclimated to him.
“Oh, yes, Daddy,” you whined as he fulfilled your silent request. “Pleaseplease,” you muttered over and over.
“Do you know my heart stopped comin’ here, callin’ for you like a mu’fuckin’ idiot? I called your pager. Shit was beepin’ by our bed. Anythin’ could’ve happened to you!”
He seemed to forget his plan because he started to increase his thrusts. Whatever he gave, you took. You bounced back on him, matching his rhythm. He fucked you into the bed, pushing down on your arm behind your back.
You were shoved ever more onto your tiptoes. Your right hand searched for purchase on the bed. Anything to brace you against his savage thrusts. It felt like he was pouring all of his frustration out into you. You gripped the bed spread and chewed on a piece of it.
There was a low, delicious burn inching up your legs. You shook violently, crying out as he hit that spot that only he could reach. Only he could touch. Only him.
“I’m sorry, Daddy,” you choked out. He pushed the very air from your lungs. Each thrust knocked a little more loose. You panted against him.
“Oh fuck, right there,” you whined. Your ass clapped against his hips and the wet slap surprised another orgasm out of you. You stuttered over his name as you came, your pussy contracting and flooding his dick.
“Look at you, can’t even hold on to that fucked up attitude,” he said. He licked your neck and nibbled at a sensitive bit. You shuddered and tried to curl in on yourself.
“Naw,” he breathed.
He slipped out of you and you cried in earnest. Tears slid down your cheeks. You groaned. Words weren’t working right for you.
Franklin manhandled you. He flipped you onto your back and pulled you by your arms. You sat up and flopped against his body. He gripped your chin and made you look at him.
“Talk a big game, no follow through, huh?” He asked. Bastard. But you got what you wanted.
“I’ll do better, Daddy,” you said. You gave him puppy dog eyes.
Franklin grinned and pecked your lips. “I know you will,” he whispered.
He tugged your shirt off, revealing your bra. Franklin sucked your nipple through the lacy material and you bucked off of the bed. “Shit!”
The sensation was both there and wasn’t there. You registered a barrier between his mouth and your nipple but you didn’t really feel it.
Franklin thrusted into you, hard. You gasped, your mouth hanging open. He climbed onto the bed, getting into a better position. He tore off his polo shirt and tossed it onto the floor.
He laid over you, crushing your body to the bed. He used one hand to spread you completely open for him. The other hand, grabbed your right hand and held it above you. Your fingers intertwined with his. He ground his hips into you, his dick disappearing inside of you.
His strokes were deep, brutal, and punishing. He wasn’t done being pissed at you. The thought should scare you. It should drive you right out of his bed. But no one else fucked you so completely. Made you feel so wanted and adored and like he needed to fuck you like a person needed air.
Every stroke hit that deep spot inside of you. Your knees closed around his hips. Your left hand scratched his back.
“That attitude shit stops,” he said as he made out with your titties. He pulled your cups down until they were under your breasts, pushing them up and into his eager mouth.
“Yes, Daddy,” you moaned.
You felt the muscles in his back working as he pushed in and out of you. His dick stretched you right to the edge of pain. That fine line was delicate and he walked it well. Your hand traveled the length of his back, feeling all of the additional muscles and the dip of his back. The top of his ass that you couldn’t reach.
You closed your eyes as he rolled a nipple around his mouth.
“The last thing I need to fuckin’ worry about is you,” he said.
“Yes, Daddy. I’m sorry,” your breath was failing you. Hell, you didn’t even know what he was saying at this point. You’d agree to just about anything at the moment. As long as he kept his strokes nice and deep like that.
You felt him in your chest. He pushed up and you couldn’t barely breathe. He was stuffing you full of him, feeding you his dick.
“You think this shit is cute and it ain’t! How the fuck it look that I can’t control my girl?”
You contracted against him. Another orgasm was building. His voice was so deep and raspy. And when he yelled, it was like unlocking a switch inside of you. You began to twitch again. Tears streamed down your face.
“I’m sorry! I hate being here without you,” you managed to croak out.
Fuck, you were so damn close. “Please Daddy, I’m so sorry. I’ll do better,” you said.
Franklin lifted his head from your titty. He stared into your eyes.
“Don’t you fuckin’ know how much I love you? Why do I have to prove it to you?” He asked, softly. So at odds with his pounding dick.
“You don’t!” You yelled. Your orgasm was just out of reach. So, so, sososososo close.
“Then why you like makin’ me mad?” He asked, his voice raised. Your jaw went slack as the orgasm finally tore through you like a tidal wave. You flopped and twitched, unable to hear or see anything as stars danced behind your eyelids.
Your convulsing pussy triggered Franklin’s orgasm. He pushed into you further, his cum splashing inside of you. You felt his dick twitch and pulse.
“Fuuuuuck,” he groaned. “You feel what you do to me?” He asked. He placed his head into the crook of your neck and panted.
“Yes, oh fuck yes,” you murmured.
“You do that to me,” he said. He kissed your jaw, your cheek. Your lips lazily found his and you kissed him with the last remaining breath in you. You felt light headed. You wanted to curl up like a cat at his feet. He rubbed your arms and kissed you as you floated back to your body.
As he softened, he pulled out of you. His thick cum eased out of you. Franklin rolled over onto his back with a contented sigh. He placed one hand behind his head. You rolled and tucked your body into his. He rubbed your back. You spread your right arm across his chest. A possessiveness taking over you.
He kissed your temple and looked at you. “Don’t you ever call me by my first name again,” he said. He turned to stare at the ceiling. His fingers never gave up their glide and and down your back.
You giggled sleepily. “Keep fuckin’ me like that and I won’t have to,” you said.
Franklin grabbed your right hand and brought it to his lips. “I gotta fuck you to keep you in line, is that it?” He asked.
“Somethin’ like that,” you said with a small giggle.
You were dragged kicking and screaming to sleep. You wanted to stay up and talk to him. Anything to keep hearing that sexy voice. Anything to keep him here with you longer. You were beyond worried that the moment you opened your eyes, he’d be gone again. Like a puff of smoke you couldn’t hold on to. He’d just slip through your fingers.
You were so blessedly fucked out, that your head emptied. You fell asleep to the thump of his heart. And you prayed. Prayed that he’d be there when you woke up.
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