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megamindsecretlair · 1 month

Note

Hey fren! ✌🏾

Whenever you got the time, can we get a nice little piece with Kofi, Tyrone, or Trevante (your pick lol) where him and his girl get into bad. It leads them to be mad as hell at each other to where they aren't speaking for like a day or two.

And our man finally gets tired of the tension and decides to make things up, but our girl is damn sure good at holding grudges so it takes him a leeettle bit more convincing to get her out of her feelings.

Also, no rush if you do decide to do this one! Love you babes 😘💜

A/N: I hope this hits. What can I say, the anon inspired me. Please note that this is not Mr. Black.

Don't Forget About Us

Pairing: Tre x Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Established relationship. Smut, FLUFF, PIV, oral (fem and male receiving), anal play, dirty talk, cursing, all consensual.

Summary: See ask. You reached a breaking point with your boyfriend. He was constantly gone, nose buried in work making you go to bed alone and tired and lonely. After a screaming match, you both need time to cool your heels. But not for too long.

Word Count: 6,841k

AO3 Link

A/N: It's not that I lied, it's just that I failed lmfao. I hadn't had plans to release this but well, I miss himmmm. Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, reblog, or unhinged ask.

Taglist: @planetblaque @browngirldominion @notapradagurl7 @blackerthings @logansblackgf @henneseyhoe @my1onlysenpai @darqchilddaydreamz @badassdoll @playgurlxoxo @eggnox @abeautifulmindexposed @theyscreamsannii @melaninpov @mcdesij @kholdkill @blowmymbackout @theunsweetenedtruth @monaeesstuff @cocoeffects @soft-persephone @duckiesfairy @slippinninque @westside-rot @prettypink-princesss @thadelightfulone @the-crystal-one @miyuhpapayuh @thecookiebratz @twocentuar @esachicaa @enchantedillumination @xo-goldengirl @tranquilfandomer @we-outsiiiide @hihellogoodbyebruh @babybratzmaraj @yourofficialgal @liyaah02 @mochaaahooligan @ashleykeri @harmshake @amethyst09 @ciaqui @iv0rysoap @00aijia00 @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @luckygirlszn @thecapodomme @chaos-4baby @multiversefanfics @tvchi @kittyken006 @avoidthings @makayla171

For the first time, in a really long time, you did not want to get out of your car and walk through the front door. You didn’t want to spend another restless night worrying over your boyfriend. He was such a work-a-holic and you were tired of the arguments.

The same old record scratch repeating over and over. You missed him like crazy. You wanted him warm and safe in your bed every night and you were sick of feeling guilty for wanting that. He would kiss you and make promises, but slowly, his word was losing its meaning.

You groaned and dropped your head to the steering wheel. You could not stay out here for much longer. You knew that and yet your legs felt like lead weights. You couldn’t make your body move even though your mind screamed at you to move. You honestly didn’t know how much longer you could continue doing this.

You heaved another groan and finally got out of the car, the quick beep letting you know that your car was locked and armed. You walked up to the townhouse you two shared, entering through the front door. You walked inside to the lights on and music playing somewhere in the background.

You closed and locked the door, removing your jacket and hanging it on the hook by the door. You slipped out of your heels, sighing as that particular burden was removed. You followed the sound of the music to the dining room.

Your boyfriend stood there in soft black lounge pants and a black long sleeved tee to match. It molded well to his body, showing off his muscles. He smiled, instantly lighting up the entire room with that mega-watt smile of his.

A gold chain rested against his chest and golden studs glinted in the dim lighting. He held out a glass of wine, cocking his head. “Hey baby,” he said.

You sighed, wanting to melt into his arms. Wanting to hug him and turn your brain off for the rest of the night. A surge of bitterness shot through you, coating your tongue in acid. But you swallowed it down. You didn’t want to pick a fight. Didn’t want to be that type of girlfriend.

You smiled and grabbed the glass of wine from him and took a small sip. You felt awkward standing next to the man of your dreams and not knowing what to do. Whether or not it was okay to reach across that gap and touch him.

You scooted past and looked at the dinner on the table. Steaming short ribs were covered in gravy, sitting next to a vegetable medley and seasoned mashed potatoes. It looked amazing and your mouth watered, momentarily forgetting that you were mad at him.

Tre moved around you and slid your chair out. You thanked him and moved in front of it. He pushed the chair in as you sat down and then took his seat at the side of the table. He uncovered a bowl of salad, dishing some for you into the small bowl beside your plate.

You smiled and began eating, falling into a familiar pattern. You spoke about silly things like your work and his, the crazy people there, or what your friends were currently up to. You spoke about your family and their latest shenanigans and Tre spoke about talking to his grandmother earlier.

Safe, normal topics that didn’t disrupt the nice meal Tre prepared. You let yourself breathe for a moment, soak up the rare moment that he was home long enough to enjoy this. You laughed with him and you enjoyed seeing the little crinkle in his eyes. That devastating smile.

You relaxed in the chair, taking a moment to appreciate the comfortable lull in the conversation. You swirled the last bit of wine in your glass on the table, watching the red liquid swirl.

“You want some more?” Tre asked.

You smiled and shook your head. “I should probably get ready for bed, I got an early meeting,” you said.

Tre sighed. “I get it,” he said. He looked down at your hand briefly when the shrill tone of his phone rang in the living room.

You sucked your teeth while he cursed, grabbing his phone and looking at the caller’s name. It’d be so much easier if you thought he was cheating. That you could explain away in your mind. Men were dogs, it was what they did, blah blah blah. You would be hurt, you would get over it and move on with someone who actually loved you.

But no. You had to compete with four walls and a computer screen. You had to compete with spreadsheets and wet signatures and copy paper. How the hell did you beat something like that? Where would you even start?

“I’m sorry, I thought I put it on silent,” he said.

“It’s fine, take it,” you said. You smiled and stood up, getting ready to clear the table. Tre placed his hand on yours, stilling your movements. You looked at him without looking into his eyes. Your eyes were focused on his lips, on the tight lipped grimace.

“You don’t have to do that,” he said.

“You cook, I clean. That was the deal,” you said, intentionally misunderstanding him. You pulled your arm but he didn’t budge. You sighed but refused to meet his gaze. His phone continued ringing and he cursed again, reaching out with his left hand to silence the ringing.

“Pick it up, Tre. Really, it’s fine,” you said. You yanked your arm once more and he let you go, let you bring the dishes to the kitchen. You hated doing dishes. But a deal was a deal. If you cooked, he cleaned. If he cooked, you cleaned. You packed away the remaining food, placing it in the refrigerator. You started filling the sink after plugging it, adding soap so it could bubble up.

Tre’s heavy footsteps entered the kitchen, feet tapping on the smooth tile. His massive frame took up your peripheral vision but you focused on the rising, steaming water.

“You won’t even look at me anymore,” he said.

You choked on a laugh, not expecting that to shoot out of his mouth. You bit your lip so that you could stop, so that it wouldn’t turn into theatrics and hysterics. You swore you’d never be this type of girl. You swore and you swore.

“You’re not here long enough for me to look at you,” you said.

“That’s not fair, damn. I did all of this to spend time with you,” he said.

You sighed. Feeling the oncoming headache. Was it even worth it? All you did was argue and yell around in circles. The yells like lashes against the wall. It was grating and nerve-wracking and you wanted off the struggle bus.

But if you didn’t say anything, would anything ever change? Did you want it to? You watched the water foam and bubble up as it rose in the sink. You were leaning on the sink, feet crossed at the ankle.

“Until the next time you need to go into the office. Or the next time your boss needs you to look at an expense report right this second, at three in the morning. Or you have this meeting or that meeting, your phone is constantly on. You might as well move into your fucking office. You never turn that shit off,” you said.

You turned off the water, the sharp creak of the handle loud in the silent kitchen. Music still pumped in from the other room, but it was too muted to understand the lyrics. Knowing Tre, it was something sweet and sensual. Finding songs with the perfect mix of longing and need.

You pulled on kitchen gloves when Tre’s phone rang once more. You smirked with no real humor behind it. “If you really wanted to spend time, you would have turned your phone off.”

“This is my job, baby. This is what I get paid to do. This is how I afford all of this,” he said.

You rolled your eyes and started scrubbing the plate. You poured your frustration into getting every last stain off of the plate. Every last smear of gravy or mashed potato. “I know that! I’m not saying quit your job, I’m not saying never work. I just want you home at a decent fucking hour,” you said.

You put the clean plate on the other side of the sink so that you could rinse it off later. You started in on another plate. The action would be relaxing if you didn’t have Tre’s fucking phone going off. His boss was worse than a thirsty bitch after your man. You swore, there were some moments where you caught his boss looking at you like you were the devil herself.

“Sometimes things come up that need my attention,” he said.

“At three in the fucking morning? What email or graph or fucking presentation is so important at three in the morning? When do you sleep? When do you rest?”

Tre growled, stepping closer to you. “It’s just for a few weeks while we try to finish up this contract. Our work on it will depend on if they’ll sign with us again,” he said.

You mentally said the words along with him. He’d said it so often, you had it committed to memory. “And what if you don’t have a few weeks? Because your body is breaking down, because you never rest, because you never chill? What then? You gonna rest when you’re dead?”

You glanced at him, at the pain in his eyes. His mouth was fixed in a grimace, eyes cold. No matter what you said, he was always going to think his way was the highway. He wasn’t going to budge. He was turning into a mountain before your eyes. You rolled your neck and continued washing off the dinner plates and wine glasses.

“I’m trying,” he said quietly.

“No, you’re not. If you were trying, this wouldn’t be the first dinner we’ve had together –”

His phone rang and you laughed, shaking your head. What was the point? Tre cursed and picked up the phone, screaming into the phone.

“I’m in the middle of something,” he said. He listened for a few moments, turning away from you as he continued with the conversation. You chuckled, amazed at how easy it was to sway him when it came to work. Yet you were pleading with him to do right by you.

Truly, why bother? Why fight for a relationship that he clearly didn’t want or need? You felt like you were a hindrance. Like you were in the way of him working himself into the ground. The sad part was that you just wanted him safe. And he just wanted to work.

He was gone for about ten minutes, likely somewhere in your double home office, clicking away on his computer. You fell into a silent rhythm, washing the utensils and then rinsing off the dishes, draining the other side.

You took off the kitchen gloves and then washed your hands. Tre re-entered the kitchen, sighing. “I’ll see you next time you decide to come home,” you said.

Tre smacked his lips. “I don’t know what else you want me to do here, baby. You said come home and I’m home. You said you wanted a home cooked meal and here it is,” he said.

You rubbed your head. “I want you home! And that means your phone is off, your mind is not on work, and you are here with me. Otherwise–” You shrugged and shook your head, the words pushing against your tongue. Pushing you to speak.

“Otherwise there’s no reason to be together.” You sighed, feeling like a weight had been shoved off your shoulders. You could breathe now that the words were out in the air. You couldn’t take them back. Couldn’t recall them.

Tre’s face crumpled before he turned around, throwing his hands in the air. “What the hell? You want to break up now?” He asked and turned back to you.

“I don’t know! I’m tired and I’m mad and I don’t want to look at you right now. Go to work, stay here, I don’t care. But you’re sleeping on the couch!” You yelled.

“Tell me if you’re trying to break up with me,” he said.

“I don’t know. You make me so mad and sad. And I’m tired!” You yelled. You brushed past him. He grabbed your hand, pulling you to a stop. You yanked your hand back. His phone rang and you turned to look at him. You looked pointedly at the phone in his hand and then at him.

“I hope that you don’t look up five years from now, sad and alone, because you chose work over living your life,” you said. You left him in the kitchen, left him looking at you as if you’d slapped him in the face.

Tears stung your eyes but you refused to cry. Refused to weaponize your tears to manipulate him into staying. You weren’t going to beg a man to stay. You made your desires clear, multiple times, over many arguments during the past few weeks. There were only so many times you could repeat yourself before you understood that Tre was doing this intentionally. He chose work over you and that hurt most of all.

Over the next few days, Tre slept on the couch while you continued to sleep in your big, cold bed. You avoided each other as much as possible, both unwilling to look each other in the eye as your words echoed in the silent halls.

You managed to move around each other, never speaking and communicating with sighs and grunts. He was spending less and less time at work, coming home earlier and earlier. It was something. But was it enough for you? Was he only doing this because he thought he didn’t want to leave you?

You were coming home more often to Tre already having dinner started or finished, phone nowhere to be seen. Your tempers flashed hot and burned easily, so by the fourth day, you were not surprised that Tre was leaving notes for you. Reaching out to grab your hand sometimes or looking at you with rare heat in his eyes.

That was definitely something you missed these past few weeks. He’d been too tired or too worked up to hold and caress you. To make love to you like you missed. Your previous hurt was still etched into your heart and you weren’t sure what it would take to believe this version of him. Believe that he wanted to change and this wasn’t just an act.

You were on the couch, curled up with a smutty book. Somebody had to get laid around here. You were in the middle of a juicy part, snuggling deeper into your emerald throw blanket as the words played a movie in your head. Tre’s thick thighs entered your field of vision.

You glanced up and was met with gray sweatpants showing a very impressive bulge. Tre at rest was already a monster to begin with. Your eyes narrowed as you looked up at him. He grinned, scooting past you to sit on the couch. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, showing off plenty of tattoos that your mouth watered to trace with your tongue.

Tre cleared his throat, taking off his glasses and man spreading by putting his feet on the table. You were already annoyed by that, but he cracked open his own book, adjusting his body to get more comfortable.

Was this motherfucker for real? A flush of heat made you grip the throw blanket tighter around your shoulders. You curled into your end of the couch, pulling your legs to sit underneath you. Your thick thighs didn’t allow you to stay in this position for long, but you hoped the building ache kept your mind off of the fact that he was being an ass.

You focused on your book, on the heat and passion of the sex scene you were reading. But the actor you casted in your mind was quickly replaced with Tre. The female main character was swapped with you. You pictured Tre doing the same nasty things as the characters in the book.

You sighed for the tenth time, getting hotter by each word that you read. The male main character started talking nasty, growling in the girl’s ear. Your body shivered, practically hearing Tre’s voice saying those same nasty things in your ear.

Fucker. He knew those sweatpants were dangerous. You huffed again and Tre cleared his throat. “Something the matter, baby?” He asked.

“Nope, all good,” you answered too quickly, but you didn’t care. You were having an entire crisis where you sat while he sat there so peacefully. You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye to see the hint of a smirk on his lips.

You loved a well-read man. You knew that he truly was reading and he also knew that it further turned you on. You huffed and adjusted yourself on the couch, moving your legs to the side of you. It relieved the burning ache in your thighs and calves and you hummed in relief.

You narrowed your eyes, determined to re-cast the characters in your mind. But instantly, your mind was creating an entire scene in your head. This was ridiculous. You weren’t going to be subject to this torture, not while Tre refused to apologize.

You stood up and let the couch throw blanket fall from your shoulders. Cold air hit your skin and you wanted to sigh in relief again, but you refused. You smiled at him and he smiled sweetly at you. “Goodnight baby,” he said.

You knew his back hurt from sleeping on the couch but you refused to be the first one to budge in this matter. He needed to do this because he wanted to and not because of some game between you. Though, it looked like he was winning so far.

You trudged up the stairs, intent on going straight to sleep. You laid down in the dark, thoughts of Tre blowing your back out lulling you to sleep.

Tre became unbearable. He was always catching you at the wrong moment, leaving you flustered and like he was inflicting ten plus psychic damage to your kitty. It was well on its way to purring every time he walked into the room wearing a combination that made your head spin.

First it was the gray sweatpants. Then he came home drenched in sweat, wearing compression shorts underneath his basketball shorts. He had a small white towel tucked in the waistband of his pants and you wanted to tug it down further so that you could see his Adonis belt.

If that wasn’t enough, you were trying to ignore that he was in the shower while you were laying in bed. He yelled for you to help grab him a towel because he forgot his. When you passed the soft towel to him through the door, you saw his reflection in the mirror. He winked at you as your eyes traveled down, down, down and then you shrieked and backed away. You felt insane for peeping on your own boyfriend, but his ass was well rounded, sculpted, muscles jumping.

You fanned yourself thinking of it. You had to get him back. Had to start playing dirty yourself. You went deep into your closet, pulling out the skimpy lounge wear. The too tiny shorts, the lady boxers, the oversized T-shirts.

You walked into the kitchen one Saturday morning, surprised to find him drinking coffee at the rounded dining room table. He had a newspaper in his hand, glasses on but he was looking over the rim. Now he was just being dramatic.

You sauntered into the kitchen, wearing a purple oversized T-shirt, the kind that rode up whenever you leaned over. You did such a thing, reaching up for the mugs at the higher shelf. Tre moved them some time ago, telling you he did it on purpose so you’d ask for his help.

“Need help, baby?” Tre asked, his voice gruff.

“No, thank you, baby. I got it,” you said. You managed to snag a mug without it falling on your head and then started the coffee machine. It hissed and roared to life, and you went around the kitchen, opening cabinets and closing them.

Tre cleared his throat. “Are you looking for something?” He asked.

“I’m trying to decide if I want to move things around in here. Or get rid of what we aren’t using. What do you think?” You asked. You lifted on your tiptoes, looking into the spice cabinet.

“Whatever you think is best, baby,” he said. He cleared his throat again and you looked at him over your shoulder.

“Are you okay, baby? Do you need something for that throat?” You asked.

“No, ma’am,” he said and flicked the newspaper, returning his attention to it. You moved to grab your coffee, doctoring it up how you liked. Then, you sat at the table with him and crossed your legs, in plain view. Tre watched your movements covertly, a smirk playing about his lips.

You smirked back. It carried on like this for another week, tension so thick in the house that you could cut it with a knife. He teased you mercilessly with things you’d told him were sexy on him. His loungewear or his jeans. The way he manspread all over the couch.

You continued to tease him, parading around in your bonnets and pajamas, short shorts, and leggings. You’d caught him staring a few times, biting his lip and that noticeable bulge getting thicker and thicker.

You were at your wit’s end by the time the following weekend rolled around. He had been consistently coming home, spending more time around the house doing things for himself. Getting back into his vinyl records, playing the odd game, or doing a few pushups and crunches on the floor of your home gym.

You were in the laundry room, pulling warm clothes out of the dryer and placing it in a wooden basket, when Tre cornered you in the room. He blocked you from leaving and bit his lip, looking you up and down. You weren’t wearing anything revealing, just some gray joggers and a tank top. He looked at you like he could see you naked beneath it.

Tre hummed and walked into the room, making you back away with a smirk on your face. “You think you’re slick,” he said.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you said, all sugary sweet and innocent. You adjusted the laundry basket on your hip and continued backing away until your butt hit the countertop.

The marble surface was smooth and cold on your butt, providing some relief to the raging heat burning through you. Tre leaned in, smelling heavenly. Like green sage and sandalwood. He gently cupped your cheek, pulling you closer and pressing a feather light kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“You’re driving me crazy, please forgive me,” he whispered.

You were tempted. Tempted worse than a kid facing down two cookies if he waited and didn’t eat the first one. You took a deep inhale of his scent, bringing your nose closer to his neck. His thick beard tickled your cheeks but you kept going, wanting to crawl into his skin.

“Are you going to take me seriously?” You asked.

He groaned, stepping closer. “Haven’t I shown you that I have?” He asked.

“But how do I know that you won’t go running the next time your phone rings?” You asked.

He sighed, nudging your jaw with his nose. He inhaled your scent as well, breathing in the tropical, fruity lotion you wore. His breath fanned across your overheated skin. Your knees were weak, wobbly, and you were struggling to stay upright.

As if you summoned the damn thing, his phone rang in his pocket. Your smile dropped, body cooling. You smiled at him, hoping he didn’t see the hurt on your face. “Duty calls,” you sang.

You pushed against his body and he stepped back with a sigh and a frown. You avoided looking at his eyes, walking out of the laundry room. The air had turned stifling in the laundry room but now you had room to breathe. For your heart to calm down.

You went into the bedroom, wanting to sit on the bed while you folded laundry. But the soft click of the door made you turn around to see Tre. He turned his pockets inside out, showing you that there was no phone. He turned in a slow circle, lifting his shirt, and you got a great view of the curve of his ass and his back.

He held out his arms. “Phone’s off,” he said, sounding pleased as punch.

You held onto the laundry basket, using it as a barrier. You’d need it. Because if you gave in, if you let your libido speak for you, you were getting pregnant that damn night. After nearly two weeks of teasing and edging, you were ready to combust. Ready to explode. Your fingers curled around the stiff wood of the basket and you smirked.

“Cute,” you said.

He smiled. He stepped forward slowly, looking at you with that cute, mischievous smile on his face. “Forgive me,” he said.

You tilted your head. “Why should I?” You asked. Maybe you could pick a fight and keep him at bay. Keep that fire out of his eyes. He had to stop looking at you like that. Had to stop keeping one hundred percent of his focus on you.

“Because I heard you, baby. I don’t want to wake up five years from now, alone and watching my life pass me by. I want to build with you, grow with you, and show you that I am listening. I will do better because I know that I want you here, home, with me,” he said.

Was it possible to get pregnant with just a few words? There was a strange twinge in your belly that told you it just might be possible. You wanted to melt into a puddle and grin like a loon.

“Pretty words,” you said, some part of you enjoying poking him. He was unfazed. He put his hands on the laundry basket. When had he gotten so close?

He smiled as he gently tugged it from your hands. You stepped forward, not wanting to get rid of your last remaining barrier. That last bit of resistance. You didn’t want to believe this. Didn’t want to get comfortable with it only for him to fall into old patterns and leave you looking like Bozo the clown.

However, with him looking into your eyes and the way you’d been on edge the past few days, your arms started to slacken. If you didn’t find relief soon, the type of relief only he could give, the next time you brushed against a table you were going to cum on the spot.

Tre tugged the basket from your hands and placed it on the ottoman at the end of the bed. He invaded your personal space, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “What is it gonna take for you to forgive me?” He asked.

You looked towards the ceiling. You were on fire. You were in shambles. You were not okay with his proximity. It took everything in you not to jump his bones. But you were always folding first. It was time for him to grovel a smidgen.

“I’d have to know that you’re really, really sorry,” you said. You smiled, grabbing his hands and leading him to the bed. He raised an eyebrow, smiling and following you. The back of your legs hit the edge of the bed and you sat down.

You were eye level with his bulge, growing thicker by the second. He was back in heather gray sweatpants, dick print protruding through the fabric.

“How can I show that?” He asked, a light teasing in his voice.

You laid back on the bed with a self-indulgent smile. “Ravish me until I say otherwise.” you said.

Tre chuckled, leaning over the bed so that he could start tugging on your joggers and panties. He pulled it off of your legs in one quick snap and you shrieked from the rough action. Perhaps you weren’t the only one at your limit. Ready to snap.

Tre dropped to his knees, licking his lips as he caught a glimpse of your gleaming pussy. He smoothed his hands on your thighs, nudging them apart. He hummed, getting his first full look in a month and a half. Your pussy throbbed from the look in his eyes.

His thumbs dug into your meaty thighs, finding pressure points that made your teeth instantly chatter. He leaned forward, taking a deep breath, inhaling your scent. He sighed with his mouth open, air fanning across your damp pussy. Had you known that you were gonna have sex today, you might have cleaned up a little. Freshened up better.

But Tre had no reservation as he kissed your thighs. Kissed the side of your knees. He moved your thighs over his shoulders, rubbing his nose in your essence. You sighed with a light moan, closing your eyes. This was it. You were going to go off like a bottle rocket any moment.

“Baby, I want you to know that I am so, very, very sorry. I made you feel alone and I never wanted to treat you that way,” he whispered to your pussy. You almost felt like an intruder. You peeked at him over your belly and saw his eyes completely focused on the center of you.

His tongue darted out and licked up the slit of your center and you hissed, leaning away from him. With his hands wrapped around your thighs, you had nowhere to go. He successfully immobilized you as he continued to slowly coax you open. Your slick dripped down your pussy and you moaned, thighs tingling.

“Fuck,” you moaned. Unable to stand it. He had to go faster. Had to get you off as soon as possible. Couldn’t he tell that you were dying over here?

“I will never, ever, ever, abandon you like that again. You are what is most important to me. I will make sure you know that every day,” he said. He followed up his words with licks and groans, slurping on your essence. Your moans turned into desperate whimpers.

“Every, single, day,” he said, punctuating every word with a lick to your clit. His lush lips latched on and began to suck, wringing desperate cries from you. Pressure built in your tummy, building and building, going higher and higher, until white light flashed behind your eyes as you came on his tongue.

He moaned, continuing to eat you out through it. You were sensitive as hell, twitching with every new lick, every new moan, every new suckle. But it felt so good, that you were heading into another orgasm. Or it could be prolonged from the first. You weren’t sure as you thrashed your head back and forth, upper body twisting on the bed.

You pushed at his head, tiny cries and whimpers. Tre kept going, grabbing your hands and pinning them to the bed. You whined, moving your hips. But you only managed to move your pussy against his face, his beard tickling your pussy and thighs.

“Please, baby, please, baby, please,” you chanted.

“Cum f’me one more time,” he groaned. He increased his efforts, abusing your poor little clit. The sensitive bud was driving you insane but you continued to beg for more. You screamed into the room, releasing another orgasm. Tre’s satisfied hum vibrated against your pussy as he licked you until you came back down.

He pulled away from your pussy, long spit chain still connected you two. Your body was on fire, damp with sweat, as you panted and huffed from such intense orgasms back to back.

“Look at you, All nice and creamy. All wet and ripping. You making a fuckin’ mess,” he murmured. His voice was rough, deep, sending shivers up and down your spine.

Your pussy clenched and clenched around nothing. You didn’t know if you had another in you, but you were struggling against his hold. You needed him inside you right fucking now. You looked at Tre as he still glanced at your pussy. His beard was shiny with your mess. He finally let you go, wiping more of your juices into his beard, getting it nice and coated. It grew rough in the weeks he wasn’t worshiping your throbbing hole.

Tre stood up, rubbing the bulge over his pants. You sat up, licking his stomach and then looking up at him. He grinned at you. You grinned back and then bit his stomach, grabbing a big bite without clamping down. Tre chuckled, stomach jostling in your mouth. You released him and smiled.

You tugged his pants down, freeing his long glorious dick. Slightly curved, you missed his dick. You kissed the tip, unable to resist being apart for too long. You looked up at him and then opened your mouth.

Tre chuckled, grabbed the base of his shaft and tapping it against your tongue. He rolled his hips, rubbing his thick head against your tongue. He groaned, throwing his head back for a brief moment.

“You forgive me, baby?” He asked. He coated your lips with his precum and then slipped back inside your mouth.

“I’m getting there,” you groaned around his dick. It sounded a bit muffled but Tre laughed so he must have heard you. He caressed your cheek with his thumb, looking at you like you hung the moon.

It sent a wave of feel good chemicals flooding your system and you closed your mouth around his dick. Tre hissed, pulling out of your mouth. He stroked back inside, holding your face while he face fucked you.

You relaxed your throat and mouth, letting him use you exactly how you needed. You moaned at the salty taste of his precum hitting your tongue. You swallowed what you could, trying to re-learn the shape and feel of his dick. The curve made him accidentally poke your cheek and you looked up at him.

Tre moaned, sighing with a quick, rushed, “fuck.” He continued stroking, taking what he needed from your mouth. You slobbered and slurped on him, getting his dick nice and wet. He slipped out of you suddenly and you whined, looking at him.

“I wanna cum in that tight, dripping pussy, baby. On them knees,” he said and licked his lip. The gold chain around his neck twinkled from the overhead light. You grinned, getting off of the bed.

You stood up and turned around. Before you kneeled on the bed, Tre stopped you and lifted your tank top off of your shoulders. You lifted your arms and let him pull it off of you. You smiled over your shoulder while Tre kissed your neck. You moaned, tilting your head so he had more access.

His fingers came around your chest, fondling your breasts and pinching your nipples. You moaned, desperate tinny cries. He stepped forward, making you bend over the bed.

You climbed on, bending your knees and sticking your ass in the air. Tre hummed, running his hands over your ass. He squeezed and kneaded, putting you at ease and making you respond to his humming.

He placed two quick kisses to the globes of your ass, following it up with love bites. “Hey!” You said.

Tre chuckled. “Missed your cute ass. Forgiven me yet, woman? I’m trynna love on you,” he said.

“I don’t know. I think better with dick inside me,” you said. The air whooshed from your lungs as Tre shoved in, leaving you no room to prepare. You screeched, falling forward onto your face.

Tre hummed with deep relief, like stepping into a jacuzzi after a long day. You shrieked and shivered, feeling stretched out to the max. Fuck. You forgot how big he was. How deeply and completely he filled you up.

“Thinking more clearly, baby?” He asked, his voice full of teasing. You could hear the smile in his voice. Fucker.

You drew in deep breaths, getting acclimated to his size. You got onto your elbows and then stretched your back, giving you a better arch. Tre groaned, pulling back and then slamming back in.

“Fuck,” you choked out.

He repeated the motion, pulling out to the tip and then slamming back in. Your ass smacked loudly against his thighs, wet slaps echoing in the room.

“Gon’ answer me?” He asked.

“Fuck, yes, I’m thinking more clearly,” you whined. Your mind was clear. Fuck whatever he did, he just needed to keep stroking into you just as he was doing.

He made it worse. He started increasing his pace, slamming you back on his dick in quick, hard thrusts that shook your whole body with the force of it. You choked on your whines and moans, choked on his dick spearing you from the inside out.

You creamed on his dick and he moaned. “Goddamn, you feeling so good. So nice and wet, baby. You hear that?” He asked.

You nodded, but eventually let out a squeaky, “yes.” Yes, you heard your pussy sucking him down greedily. Yes, you heard the evidence of your arousal. He made you cum so many times already, but you were building towards another one.

“Hmm, I feel you clutching this dick. Show me what’s yours, baby,” he groaned. His voice was rough with his arousal, deep with his lust. He stroked so deep, hitting all your good spots.

He grunted and smacked your ass, gathering some of your slick with his fingers playing with your clit. You cried out and jerked forward, interrupting the rhythm. Tre removed his fingers, picking up the pace once more. Then he brought those wet fingers to your ass, rubbing his thumb around your tight, puckered hole. Your teeth chattered as he continued to push inward, push past that bit of resistance.

Now, you really felt full. “Oh, baby, fuck, please,” you cried out.

“Be a good little girl and cum on this dick,” he growled.

“Shit,” you whispered as you did just that, flooding his dick with fresh slick. He slipped more easily inside of you, grunting as you clenched around his throbbing dick. He moaned, increasing his strokes until he was soon following after.

His hot cum shot inside of you, painting your creamy walls with his cum. Your back bowed and he wiggled his thumb in your ass. Drool leaked from your lips as you came down from your climax.

Tre slowed his movements, pumping the last of it inside of you. He stilled his hips, kept you plugged up with his dick. You shivered and twitched on him, completely spent and out of breath. He kissed down your spine, rubbing your back. You groaned. Somehow, he zeroed in on your problem areas, the parts of your back that ached and ached all the time.

“Baby? You forgive me?” He asked.

You whimpered. He expected you to talk after something like that? You needed at least two days to recover.

“I forgive you, baby. Just…please don’t do that again,” you said, your voice small. Tre stilled with his lips against your back. He nodded once and then nodded again like he was confirming for himself as well.

“I won’t. I’ll be right here with you,” he promised. He softened inside of you and slowly slipped out. You groaned. Tre spread your asscheeks and watched his cum slowly glide out of your pussy.

He cursed softly. “Need to do this more often, you made such a mess,” he said.

You chuckled. You were a limp noodle at the moment. You were unable to move a muscle. Not a single twitch. Tre kissed your cheek, smacking your ass lightly while he went to grab a washcloth. He cleaned you off and then got onto the bed with you.

He pulled you into the crook of his arm, snuggling against your back. Your ass wiggled against his dick.

“Behave,” he grunted. He pulled you as far as you were able to go and wrapped his strong arms around you. You stayed in bed for the rest of the day, talking and laughing, and enjoying each other like you used to do.

You only left the bed long enough to get food, laughing your way back to each other. Renewing your commitment to each other with every smile, every joke, and every twinkle in your eyes.

There's more Tre to love! The Secret Tre Files

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roseamongroses · 9 months

Text

stick to the stuff u know

a/n: shuriri of course, back at it again with the sleepy time wlw

ao3 here

It started like it always did.

In the dark of the lab, Riri squinted at the tiny screen in front of her--she’s been re-reading this same report for the past twenty minutes with no success. Words and numbers were starting to blur together. Even with the brightness so low, the light was starting to make her nauseous.

It was moments like these she wished she wasn’t barred from tinkering with her own consciousness again. It’d be awfully convenient if she didn’t have to rely on her A.I and could just work all night--no need to worry about her body being silly.

Sadly her mom had thrown those plans out the window--literally. She even forced her to go outside, retrieve said plans. All so she could lecture her point-by-point about ethics and hubris or whatever.

God forbid she be happy.

Riri blinked hard, trying to refocus on the task at hand.

That’s when she felt it.

Something hard pressed into her cheek.

Riri turned, eyeing the offending granola bar and the attached hand like it was the devil itself.

Shuri pressed the snack into her cheek again,“Eat.”

“What?” Riri’s head was still processing the sudden appearance, a little dazed.

Only the safety light was on at this point, Riri was tucked away in some obscure corner desk trying to decipher the next step of her plans. She hadn’t really noticed--nor cared when everyone had left. Though she was faintly surprised to see she outlasted Shuri.

Shuri had changed her clothes out, now wearing a too-long tank-top and basketball shorts-- hair wrapped.

The Princess stood over Riri, other hand idly tapping the back of her chair unimpressed, “Eat--” She repeated, eyebrow arched, “Then get out of my lab.”

Riri scowled, something childish rearing in her head at the suggestion. She was grown. She would know if she was hungry so she didn’t need to be babied--

Riri’s stomach growled.

Impossibly loud.

Riri decided being human was overrated. She ignored Shuri’s triumphant grin as she snatched the granola bar. She stuffed it in her pocket half-heartedly grumbling her thanks.

“Great--now get out,” Shuri was annoyingly persistent, continuing to prod at Riri’s cheek.

“I’m busy--” Riri batted at her hands, annoyed.

“You’re a work-a-holic--there's a difference--” Another prod--this time to Riri’s forehead.

“Pot, kettle--” Riri shot back, twisting in her seat to grab the offending hand, “Don’t you stash pillows in here?”

Shuri hummed, not acknowledging the claim--hypocrite--eyes fixated on their hands.

Undeterred, Shuri slipped from Riri’s grip, interlocking their fingers together instead with a smug expression, “Doesn’t matter. My lab--my rules, so I’m kicking you out.” she reasoned, gently pulling the other girl along.

Riri’s breath hitched, her protests dying.

It seemed her whole body was determined to betray her today. Her words were gone, and her legs were content to follow as she let Shuri lead the way.

Her heart was the worst of them all, her chest warm--pleased at how Shuri’s hand felt in hers. Slim, soft against Riri’s calloused hands.

She fought back a grin of her own as they passed the guest rooms --Shuri didn’t even glance back, pulling her down the hall that led to the Royal family’s rooms instead.

She had only remembered sleeping in the guest room once or twice since her arrival in Wakanda. At first it was an accident--she fell asleep in Shuri’s room while waiting for them to find a book. Shuri didn’t bother waking her up--simply pulling the covers over her and climbing into the empty space beside her.

The pair never addressed it.

It seemed silly at this point.

Something about being trapped in an underwater lair, injured, and scared shitless chipped away at their boundaries quickly. And Namor was still too much of a threat to really talk about what happened to them yet.

Riri didn’t have to explain why she sometimes woke up gasping for air. Shuri didn’t have to explain why she didn’t want to sleep alone. Not yet.

Still--despite all that was unsaid, Shuri looked back every-so often. Those cautious, curious glances waiting for Riri to protest, to question, even if she never did--or would.

Riri stumbled after Shuri, a strange warmth settling between her throat and ribs. The door shut quietly behind them, her eyes adjusting to the dim light.

Shuri’s room was a repurposed observatory.

The walls were dark, high, and rounded. The shelves filled to the brim with books, papers, and plants that crawled high towards the concave sky-light. In the center of the room, there was a rounded bed, partially sunk into the floor. It was a mess of sheets, pillows, and blankets. Off to the side was a wide desk instead of a side-table. Its surface is covered with sticky-notes and small-scaled models of potential projects.

Shuri released her hand, immediately crawling into bed.

Riri frowned at the loss, shimmying out of her pants as she went to search the drawers. She finished her granola bar then undressed quickly. She pulled on a random large shirt and her bonnet before sliding under the blankets as well.

Shuri’s back was turned to her, breathing soft.

Restlessness pulled at Riri though, even as the warmth of the bed and the weight of the day finally settled over her. It was hard to step away--to make her brain stop even if she was hardly getting shit done.

Riri yawned, shifting on her side in an attempt to get more comfortable. Her eyes flicked from the slow blinking stars above, to the soft dip of Shuri’s neck--to the space in between them.

They did this every night and yet--she was nervous. Just a bit.

Riri’s fingers traced patterns in the sheets “...Shuri?”

A moment--then Shuri turned around. She always does. Eyes dark, shining, and narrowed in on Riri entirely. It was easy to forget with all the bustling in the lab, how intense her attention was when you had it. As if the whole world was narrowed down to you.

The bed creaked as Riri was pulled into her arms. Hands slid down her shoulders and settled on the small of her back.

Riri liked the weight against her--skin against skin. She liked whatever this was and her body finally started to succumb to sleep.

When morning came, something new came with it.

“...Riri?”

Riri’s body was heavy and warm with sleep. She groaned softly, eyes fluttering shut--threatening to pull her back under.

Sunlight filtered through the partially-shut shutters. Shallow strips of honeyed light flickering across the stretching plants and dark walls.

“...Riri…?”

Riri’s eyes fluttered again with great effort. Her face pressed against pillows and legs comfortably tangled.

Shuri stared down at her, head propped up by her arm as she watched the other fight sleep. She had been up for a while now to be honest, unwilling to unhook Riri’s legs from around her waist, but, “I have to go get ready for a meeting,” she continued, voice low as she nudged Riri gently.

“Gross,” Riri muttered, nose curling at the thought.

“Mhm,” Shuri agreed, tracing the curve of Riri’s thigh-- her shirt bunching around the swell of their hips, “I’ll be back,” she promised, pulling away as she crawled out of bed.

Riri frowned at the loss, hands wearily trying to follow.

Shuri looked back, laughing breathlessly as she caught one of the wandering hands in hers. She watched the half-sleeping girl, tracing circles in her hand as she thought.

Dark, shining eyes narrowed in on Riri, Riri’s hand and the space in between.

Before she could second-guess herself, Shuri pressed a chaste kiss to Riri’s hand, then let it go. Another pause. Shuri leaned down further and pressed another kiss to Riri’s forehead.

Riri sighed, briefly appeased as Shuri pulled the blankets up around her shoulders before silently stepping away to get ready.

Riri listened to them get ready, thoughts drifting sluggish as she wondered.

She wondered how long the meeting would take, where Wakanda gets their blankets made because she was honestly in heaven, and if Shuri’s lips would nice against her--

For a genius, it took Riri entirely too long to realize.

All at once, sleep left her.

Riri’s eyes shot open, her heart in her throat. She sat up confused--her world shifting ever so slightly to make sense of whatever this just became. They never talked about it--she thought they never would. But at that moment the questions became too big to bear. Riri was a scientist at heart. She needed to know why.

Shuri was already gone.

Riri flopped back into bed with a groan, but sleep wouldn’t claim her again.

#mcu #bpwf #shuriri #shuri #riri williams #black panther #iron heart #shuriri fic #shuri x riri #fanfiction #writing

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monsterfloofs · 7 months

Note

I was re-reading all your maestro fics again for the manyth time and was stuck on how hopeful and excited he was when he heard a knock on the door thinking it was reader for it only to be Angelo. And I was thinking (though it’s well after Valentine’s Day) what if reader knocked on his door and was planning to just leave him a valentine’s flower and card. They had given a card to everyone in the group though never a flower but their anonymous goes awry when he excitedly answers the door, Thanks.

Maestro (He/They Harpy) x Anonymous Reader (Sfw)

(Ah gosh can I do this?? Can I do this??? I am going to plead with my brain to be able to write something, because I feel like I am really flounding creatively lately. 😭 I shall try my bestest.)

The room was filled with music. A lilting melody that highly contrasted the poised figure playing at the piano. Their brow furrowed, with a concentrated glare that could almost burn a hole into the sheet music they were reading. There was a slight misstep, causing a wrong note to call out, like throwing a rock into a serene pond. Feathers ruffle angrily and his chest rises up in a deep sigh of frustration.

Again.

Do it again.

The hands snap back to the beginning and the sweet melody starts over, glaring at the page of music. Nose wrinkling in something like disgust, the hand pauses at a particular stanza, thoughtful. Tinkering with a few notes before he gives a scoff and snatches an eraser from the shelf, scrubbing at the paper before drawing a new note. He replays the section, eyes fluttering closed and nodding to himself.

Better. It’s getting better.

Strange to think that it has been a year since he had been struggling with this one piece of music. It was a fault of his that they knew too well, perfectionism would be the death of them. Yet, the more they attempted to rush and finish the piece, the more it eluded him completely. He wanted for it to be perfect, but days and weeks and months of a busy schedule allowed him only so much time to work on it. Perhaps it was fruitless after all. His tense shoulders began to fall, slouching and glared at the paper. It has been a year, and much can change in that span of time.

—

It’s weird to think about how much can change in a year. You think to yourself, marching up the stairs into the concert hall. It’s the weekend, not only is it the weekend, but it’s a Sunday. No one would be here on a Sunday right? You think about Maestro, how much of a work-a-holic he is and frantically wave the thought away. You assure yourself and the nervous voice in your head. You. Yes you, the one who is screeching that we should be running for the hills.

Not even he, in all of his frightening glory, would be here. There was nothing to worry about. At least. . . .You hoped so.

You pressed an ID card to the door scanner and you heard a chime before you pushed your way inside of the building. The sound of your shoes on the floor was unnerving, it was quiet, too quiet. The kind of quiet that leaves you drowning in your thoughts.

Leave the card and goodies? Keep the card? Don’t sign the card and leave it anonymous. Perhaps running home and burying yourself out in the backyard would be best. No one would find your body there. You freeze, as the sound of music seeps from underneath his office.

He is here. Of course he is, why had you ever entertained the idea he wouldn’t be? You practically tiptoed up to the door, conscious of every step your feet made on the tiles. You stopped in front of his office door with it’s large square window. Staring at Jameson openly from the other side. You knew he was a composer, but you couldn’t recall hearing anything he wrote. Was he working on something now? You look down at the bag in your hand. Roses peeking out of the top and you could see pink card through the transparent plastic.

He is such a stoic and intense man, you would have thought he’d prefer more dramatic songs. You hesitate, if you leave the bag on the door handle like you intended, once he goes to leave the handle will twist and dump everything onto the floor. The card and chocolate would be fine to take a tumble, but the roses. You dither, wondering if you set the bag on the floor, would he see it?

You begin to notice the silence in the room stretching on. Where was the piano? You slowly raise your head up to stare. Maestro was now also openly staring back at you. He typically smooth feathers where fluffed out and sticking up in funny places like he had just been a victim of static electricity.

The staring contest lasted longer than you had hoped for. Knees weak, you begin to sink. Your face in wide eyed terror as you slowly settle into a crouch, your saucer eyes the last thing to disappear from the view of the window.

What are you doing? Run you fool, run! Yet instead, you stay crouched in front of the door, staring at the crack between the polished wood and floor. Hoping beyond hope he would just ignore what he just saw. Heck, maybe he would think he hallucinated it! You hear a soft knocking from above and you look up to see Maestro staring down at you through the window.

“What are you doing?” He mouths at you, a look of concern and considerable confusion plastered on his face.

“I don’t know!” You managed to mouth back, your voice a whisper. Scrambling away from the door as the handle begins to turn. Maestro runs his hands through his feathered mane.

“It’s. . . “ He began then frowns.

“The weekend? Yeah.” You bounce on the heels of your feet before taking a deep breath and holding out the bag to him. Oh now he’s really looking like he got struck by lightning or something.

“Here,” Your voice tumbling over itself in a rush. “I know Valentine’s Day was days ago, but I just wanted to give you these and say thanks for working with all of us.”

He stared at the bag as if it would try and reach out and bit him.

“Oh.”

“Yeah! So uh– I’ll be on my way, I’msorrytodisturb.” Your words speeding up even faster as he puts a hand to his face.

“Did you. . . hear the song?”

The question had you taking in a gulp of air, so ready to continue on with the panicked apologized until your brain caught up to you.

“Song?” You echoed, “The song you were playing on the piano?”

He wiped his hand down his face, then squinted, staring promptly at a spot just behind your shoulder. “Yes,” He began slowly, “What did you. . . think of it?” You blink a couple of times to make sure you heard him right. He was asking you about the music?

“It, was lovely.” You admitted, treading slowly and carefully into your answer. “Did you write it?”

He hesitates before finally taking the bag from you, his hand lingering against yours longer than necessary. He clears his throat and runs a hand through his feathers again. Determined to smooth down the unruly plumage.

“Indeed.” He beckons to you, holding the door open. “Why. . . Why don’t you come in? I am sure it would sound better without any obstacles to block the music.”

You shuffled your feet before following him inside. Noticing a wilted bouquet of roses on the top of the piano. Even though the flowers were drooping, there was still an unmistakable sunshine orange. Just like the roses that were in the bag hanging from Maestro’s clawed hand.

You remember the website you had poured over when you were at the store. Red was for love, orange was for a crush, yellow for friendship, and pink was for appreciation. You had almost settled on pink, but then at the last second the orange ones caught your eye. You wondered, if someone else had been charmed by the brooding musician. Maestro glances at you, before gently lifting out the wilted flowers and replacing them into the water. He doesn’t look at the rest of the contents in the bag, setting them down on top of his desk before he takes a seat in front of the piano.

The music was gorgeous from what you had heard from outside, but being in the room and letting the notes hum around you. You closed your eyes, and listened, the casade of sound pulling on your heartstrings. “It’s beautiful,” You murmur out loud. You hadn’t expected that he would be able to hear you. Yet his voice replied. “Ah, good. Then I was able to convey it properly. . . It’s for you, you know."

#monster x human #monster x reader #harpy x reader #harpy x human #exophilia #floofyocs #HE FINALLY DID IT #YIPPEEEEE

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