Berri Writes - Tumblr Posts

tw: violence, mentions of blood, mentions of drinking, alludes to psychotic break, not proofread (sorry :3)

It's a mess. A huge, disturbing mess. Crimson stains the walls, it soaks through your clothes, making it stick to your body uncomfortably. Your hair, usually combed back and styled perfectly into place, is an array of tangles, sticking up in all directions. Sweat slowly beads down your temple, your chest rising and falling in deep, ragged breaths.

Your eyes move across the room, taking in the damage you'd just dealt. A storm rages within you, your rampant bloodfest had done little to settle your inner turmoil. Your eyes settle on a lone figure, standing in the middle of the room, rigid and unmoving. Their head is tilted down, eyes locked on a singular form before them.

Your footsteps echo in the silent room, menacingly slow, though the figure does not turn their head, they don't acknowledge your presence. They stay rooted in place, their eyes never leaving the person in front of them. When you get close enough, you see the faint signs of life your poor victim still clings to. The unsteady rise and fall of their chest, their blood spilling from their wounds, pooling around their limp form.

Tilting your head ever so slightly, your eyes trail up their body, taking in the number of wounds, and the amount of blood being lost before you find yourself staring into deep, piercing pools of brown. His eyes. A pretty sight they were, pinning you in place with such an intensity it had your breath quickening. Taking him in, you realize just how handsome the poor man was.

Pale skin, tired eyes that bore into yours, a strong nose, sharp jaw, and soft-looking lips parted with his ragged breathing. His chest rises and falls slowly now, each ragged breath he takes looks as painful as the wounds all over his body. Narrowing your eyes, you lean over, reaching out to put the poor man out of his misery, when a strong hand reaches out and grips your wrist with enough force to break it.

"Don't touch him."

It's icy, the way he speaks to you. Like the coldest winter day you could ever imagine times ten. There's a singular emotion within his tone. Rage. It bubbles up in his gut and threatens to overflow when his eyes meet yours. His eyes...they were something else entirely. Bright blue eyes, ablaze with pure, raw emotion, locked on yours in a battle of sheer will.

"Get away."

It's amusing. The way he thinks he holds some sort of power over you. The way he thinks he can order you around. As if he was the one who destroyed the very ballroom you were standing in. It was amusing. Your wrist is still held captive in his crushing hold, his grip never faltering, as you finally open your mouth to speak.

"Why? What will you do if I touch him? If I don't go away? Will you kill me? I'm the only one who can save him at this point. Surely you must know that. You don't strike me as a stupid person." Tilting your head, you continue, fighting off the smug smile that threatens to give away how much you're enjoying this tormenting game you've forced these men to play.

"Or maybe you are stupid. Maybe you think you're the only one who can save him because you're so strong? Is that it? Is your ego so high that you have to send away the only being that could possibly save your...what is he? Your friend? Lover? Tell me. I'd love to waste more time and hear about why you think you hold power over the situation right now."

It's fascinating, the way his jaw clenches at your words, the way his eyes flash dangerously with emotion. His grip tightens around your wrist even more, and you can feel your wrist beginning to crack under his hold. "Shut up. Or I'll kill you where-"

Before he can finish his sentence, his friend manages to speak from below, his voice nothing but a raspy whisper. "Satoru...leave her be." Satoru. What a beautiful name for a beautiful creature. Now if you could get the name of his friend-

"Suguru, don't move. I'll get you out of here. Just stay still." Ah, Suguru. Your eyes flicker down to watch as Satoru drops to his knees beside his friend, his hands reaching out to touch him yet hesitating midair, unsure of himself. Suguru can only smile weakly, eyes flashing in pain as they meet yours, his mouth moving slowly as his words come out strained.

"Forgive his manners...he's always been passionate." How peculiar. Even at death's door, this man finds it in himself to apologize for his friend's behavior. To smile at you - the person responsible for the pain he's in. His behavior has your eyes narrowing, head tilting to the side slightly as you gaze back at him, your hand twitching at your side.

Satoru reaches out to gently brush stray hairs from his friend's face, shushing him and scolding him halfheartedly as crimson begins soaking through his pants. As you gaze down at the two of them, something about them piques your interest. A sort of lightbulb going off in your head, it makes your entire demeanor soften a small degree.

Satoru must sense the slight shift in the ballroom, because he lifts his head to look at your, eyes still a raging storm of emotion, yet there's something else in his blue orbs. A silent plea, a desperate question in his gaze that you recognize even before he opens his mouth. "Help him."

It brings a smile to your face, watching the man before you struggle to contain his emotions, yet wear his heart on his sleeve at the same time. You don't know what exactly comes over you - perhaps it's the drink you'd had or the way you crave to have power beyond imaginable - but you find yourself placing a hand on Suguru's chest, a faint light of gold flashing briefly before you pull back, watching as his eyes drift shut.

Satoru's eyes widen, staring down at his friend's limp form, clenching his jaw as tears fill his beautiful eyes. His head whips towards you, fist raising only to be caught in yours, a bored expression on your features - yet your eyes flash dangerously. "Pick him up. I suggest you follow me quickly; I can only keep him stable for so long." Spinning on your heel, you make your way towards the exit, stepping over the bodies that litter the once pristine ballroom floor, expecting him to follow.

Your eyes flicker over the faces of your old coworkers, lingering on the few you called 'friends'. Such friends they turned out to be, pathetic dolls used by the higher-ups. It was unfortunate that you had to kill everyone here, but seeing as you couldn't get to the root of your rage, you believe this was compensation enough. For now, anyways.

Though, it surprised you to have survivors, as you never had any before. You wondered just how they had survived, it was amazing really. Your power knew no bounds, it coursed through your veins unrestrained. Untamed. Wild. Recklessly. Ironically enough, those were the same words that had been thrown at you by the higher ups. Unrestrained, untamed, wild, reckless. Like you were an animal.

An animal made for slaughter. In their eyes, every single sorcerer was meant for this cruel game of life and death. Though, most sorcerers met their demise much too early, as you'd learned throughout your career - if you could even call it that. You'd driven yourself mad, crazed with the images that plagued your mind day and night. You had no rest, no solace, no safe haven to separate your work life from your personal one. Everything was merged into a hazy blur.

Grueling mission after grueling mission, you'd been pushed to the brink. Your emotions had spilled over the crystal you'd barely managed to keep from overflowing. It was a bloodbath, much like the one you had created tonight, yet this one had casualties beyond what most sorcerers had witnessed. You were a lost cause; nobody could reach you through the fog and walls you had put up to shield yourself from the outside world.

You were supposed to be getting treated, get a break at the very least, or that's what you'd been told. It'd been by complete accident that you'd found out the truth - that your fate had been determined by the higher-ups. You were meant to be executed; the bigger blow was that you would die at the hands of the very people you fought every day to protect. The people you called your friends. That had truly been your final straw, and you'd fled that very night.

You'd been on the run ever since, evading the sorcerers who'd been searching for you Up until a few months ago, when they'd given up on finding you. You'd plotted your revenge for weeks, finding the perfect opportunity to execute your plan of mass murder. A party for the higher-ups or something along those lines. You hadn't paid much attention to the details, driven solely by the satisfaction of giving just a sliver of the pain you'd felt back to the very people who'd dealt it to you.

Only to find out those people, those bastards, weren't even going to attend. It was just a party of acknowledgement, a show of appreciation to the animals who tormented you for years. You'd been outraged when you'd realized, your emotions bubbling up from deep within you until everything exploded. Now, however, as you glance over your shoulder, spotting Satoru striding after you with Suguru nestled safely in his arms, you wonder if maybe everything truly did work out in the end.

And when Satoru's eyes meet yours, his flashing with emotion - raw, untamed, wild, unrestrained emotion - you don't wonder anymore. You know. You know that everything worked out in your favor, because you can see it. That same crazed look in his beautiful eyes, the look you wore for months during your line of work. It's there, perhaps not as strong as yours, but you know it's there. Buried deep down within him.

Glancing down at Suguru, watching his chest rise and fall slowly, you wonder just what exactly would push Satoru into the same madness you fell into.

Perhaps you can give him a nudge in the right direction.

Tonight.

big beefy men part two?? but... they're subs???? bigger sigh...

A/N: I finally finished it!! I hope you guys enjoy it, I certainly enjoyed writing it >:3 I couldn't figure out who else to put so perhaps you guys could help me out and lmk for sure! I yap too much so enjoy! (I read it over once so there might be typos, pls ignore them O_o)

Big beefy men who look like they could crush you without much effort. Except... they're the biggest sweethearts you've ever met. Whose hands envelop both of yours - including your wrists - and who love to bear hug you from behind, especially when you don't expect it. They're the perfect size for it too!

Sneaking up behind you when you're getting a snack from the pantry or fridge, footsteps silent despite their big frame, a shadow slowly creeping up your back, a cheeky smile making its way onto their handsome face. Standing just inches away from your body, they watch in amusement as the hairs on the back of your neck begin to stand, your body telling you that something is there, yet you never quite learn your lesson.

So, when big arms wrap around your waist, squeezing your plush body against their chest, his hands squeezing whatever they can get - which is a lot - you squeal, your precious snack falling from your grasp. You can huff and squirm as much as you like, though your efforts to escape are futile - as you've come to accept -and your lover only finds it amusing, watching you battle with his arms in a war you'll never win.

Your scent surrounds him, much like his entire stature surrounds you, and he can't help but bury his face into the crook of your neck, breathing your heavenly smell like it's the last breath he'll ever take. You can feel his muscles flexing, straining against fabric in a way that has your mouth watering, your mind running wild as your feet leave the ground.

It's not his fault, not really, or that's what he tells you at least, when you can no longer feel solid ground beneath you. You're so much smaller than he is, his back hurts often, having to lean down to hug or kiss you. Or bend you over any solid surface.

You can squirm and huff all you want, complaining about not being on the ground, but he knows you better than that. He knows you only complain because your panties grow increasingly uncomfortable, getting sticky since your pussy began drooling for the brute of a man you call your lover the minute his arms wrapped around your middle.

He knows you squirm against his form - the solid wall of absolute muscle, carved by the gods themselves - because if you stop and stay still for even a second, your focus will be on how your clit throbs, on how heat pools low in your tummy, how your nipples begin hardening under the shirt you're wearing...he knows.

It's not like you can help it either, not when he's so handsome and his body rivals that of a movie star - but you know he'd put models, bodybuilders, and actors to shame if he really wanted to. No, you can't truly help it, and with the way he's looking at you now - with wide eyes and pouty lips, his hands sliding up to squeeze your tits, pinching your sensitive nipples - it really isn't helping.

Despite still being in the air, his hands still squeezing and playing with your tits, you know you're the one who truly holds power. He may be big and strong, but you know with the right coaxing and pretty words, he's putty in your hands. So, when you shift your hips up slightly, dragging your ass along the length of his hardening cock, you bite back a smirk when he groans softly, boarding a moan.

His hands squeeze your tits harder, trying to ground himself desperately, yet his hips have a mind of their own, because they roll forward, trying to set a rhythm that would ease some of the discomfort. However, he is thoroughly disappointed when your hips stop their movement, and he whines against your throat where his face is buried.

Your hands push against his forearms, signaling him to let you go, which he reluctantly does, missing your warmth seconds after setting you back onto the ground. His eyes met yours, blown out and unfocused, his hands clenching at his side, while your eyes drift down to eye the bulge straining against his sweatpants, the fabric outlining the shape of his cock deliciously.

Your hands move up to push against his stomach, coaxing him to lean back onto the counter, before they travel lower, tugging on the waistband of those sweatpants and watching him swallow down the saliva pooling in his mouth. His eyes dart down to watch your hands push the offending fabric down his hips, watching at the elastic stretches over the toned muscles of his sharp hips and thick thighs - it's enchanting really.

Your mouth waters when his dick springs free from its confinements, bobbing up and down slowly, the sight making your pussy drool even more than before. Thick and heavy, just barely being able to stay upright, threatening to hang with the sheer weight of it. Veins decorate the shaft, his tip colored an angry shade of pinkish red, trimmed hair at his navel leading you down to the delicious sight of your lover's dick.

Pre beads at his tip, making your mouth water as you lean forward and wrap your lips around the angry tip, dragging your tongue along his slit slowly, your eyes locked on his expression. Watching as his jaw goes slack the moment your heavenly mouth is on him, his eyes struggling to stay open, and his hands hovering over your head - wanting to touch you, yet knowing he didn't have your permission yet.

Humming around his tip, you pull back, spitting onto the area your mouth had just been, before peering up at your lover intently, voice silky smooth and teasing at the same time. "Baby, gotta get you wetter. Help me out?" Your hand wraps around the base of his aching dick and he struggles to choke back a broken whine as he watches your tongue loll out, waiting patiently for his help.

His head dips forward slightly, chin tilted down as his lips pucker briefly, watching as a thick glob of spit lands on your awaiting tongue. his ears catching the pleased purr that rumbles from your chest. When you move forward, letting your combined saliva slowly roll down your tongue, he swears he dies right then and there, because the moment the warm, stickiness of your mixed spit feels like heaven against his aching hot dick.

You barely manage to wrap your lips around his angry tip before his thighs are tensing and he's crying out. "C-cumming! Oh fuck, 'm cumming!" The moans falling from his lips are sinful, drawn out and raspy, his mouth having fallen agape to let them fall freely, his eyes watery and locked on the way your cheeks puff with his load.

Hia hands find their way into your hair, having been brave enough to finally touch you, his fingers tangling in the strands and pushing your head down whilst his hips shift forward, forcing more of his throbbing and twitching cock into the heavenly warmth of your mouth. Your own arms move up to wrap around his thighs, squeezing tight and making your own eyes water when his tip pushes further down your throat.

Cum and spit dribbles from the corner of your mouth, only to be scooped up by his fingers after he detangles a hand from your hair, popping the digits into his mouth seconds later, moaning at the taste of his cum and your spit. His head tilts to the side slightly, eyes watching your throat work as you swallow down his thick load, thighs twitching beneath your arms and his chest heaving with each ragged breath he takes.

When the last of his cum is swallowed, he's pushing your head away and moving onto the floor, ripping your clothes from your delectable body in his haste to return the favor. "Please please, let me fuck you. I'll be good, I'll fuck you really good. Wanna be inside your pretty pussy. Please, baby? Promise I'll be good for you, I really wanna make you feel good too."

And how can you deny him? With his beautiful puppy eyes, the pout playing at his lips, and the furrow of his brows, greedy hands squeezing your tit, your stomach, waist, the fat of your ass, and your thighs, until he's cupping your soaked pussy, panties merely shoved aside to expose you to him.

His free hand wraps around his shaft, pumping himself quickly as his eyes roam over your plush body, fingers toying with your clit and dipping into your cunt, teasing the both of you. It's only when you nod that he shifts closer, knees nudging your thighs further apart, a pathetic cry leaving his puffy lips.

An endless string of breathless 'thank you's fill your ear as he drags his sensitive tip through your folds, tears rolling down his cheeks when he finally sinks into your heavenly pussy, back hunching over your body as he buries his face into your neck. A shaky sigh leaves him, as if it pained him to be without your pussy, gummy walls wrapped around his cock and squeezing him in a way only you were able to do.

Desperate, wet kisses are pressed against your throat as his arm wraps around your shoulders, keeping you still against him, his other hand squeezing your tit when his hips finally reel back only to slam forward, both of your cries echoing in your kitchen. Apologies leave his lips, frantic kisses matching the frantic pace of his thrusts, his tip grazing that spot in your gummy walls, each brutal thrust knocking the air out of you.

Pathetic cries of your name are muffled against your collarbone, fat tears dripping onto your skin, his hips never faltering, even when he sits up and grabs your thighs, hooking your legs over his arms, squeezing the plushness of them and letting his head fall back with a loud moan. Your own cries rise in volume and pitch at the change in angle, his tip hitting that gummy spot dead on now, your hands clenching, unable to grab onto anything.

His nails dig into your thighs now, balls smacking against your ass, the sound of your squelching pussy and your combined moans a sinful melody that has his mind reeling, leaving him hazy, only focused on the way your pussy swallows each inch of his cock with each brutal thrust. It's maddening perfection, and it has his orgasm rapidly approaching.

Babbles leave his lips, unintelligible sentences being strung together by the bulk of a man, usually so composed - yet reduced to nothing but a pussy drunk animal. "S-so good! Feels so good, baby! W-wanna cum with you, please? Let me cum with you." His body moves forward, hunching over you once more, folding you in half with your legs thrown over his broad shoulders. At yet another change in angle, your hands fly to his shoulders, digging your nails into the muscles, making him moan pathetically and increase his pace, pumping into you with his hands braced beside your head.

His mouth crashes onto yours, tongue tangling messily with yours, drool coating both your lips and chins, his moans and whines muffled with each drag of your tongue, brows furrowing as his orgasm steadily approaches, dangling in front of him teasingly. When he feels your pussy begin clenching around his cock, his fingers fly to your clit, rubbing the little bundle of nerves with a desperation like no other. Your cries get muffled by his shoulder when he ducks his head into your neck, crying out into your skin when your orgasm crashes over you.

His own orgasm is pulled from him suddenly, just seconds after yours, thick ropes of cum flooding your clenching pussy, sensitive walls milking him dry. With a few more ruts into you, his hips finally still, his body twitching above yours as his grip on you finally loosens, letting your legs fall to his hips, his dick pulsating in your heavenly pussy, the last few spurts and clenching of your walls making him whimper against your throat.

When he finally lifts his head from your neck, it's to peer intently at you, his eyes shiny with tears and pure adoration, his forehead slick with sweat, his hands moving up and down your sides until they find yours, his fingers lacing with yours, his spit-slicked lips parting to whisper weakly.

"Did I do good?"

KNY: Kyojuro, Sanemi...

JJK: Gojo, Geto, Choso...

AOT: Jean, Armin, Eren...

MHA: Keigo...

COD: Konig, Soap (Johnny)...

Haikyuu: Bokuto...

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