#and i am used to . not having random men literally flush to my window

[cithaerons]

also oh my fucking god the fact there are construction workers on the scaffolding literally right outside my window from 8 to the evening is not helping anything this is so fucking awkward

[hairringtonsteve]

wrong house, right time

[joaquin torres x reader]

summary: Sometimes, life just sucks and nothing can be done. But when one (1) Joaquin Torres shows up to fix for air conditioner, your week gets just a little better.

word count: 2,262

a/n: I wasn't going to post this publicly, but @anna-phora told me to do it, so I'm accidentally stepping into MCU fic. Which like... was the eventual plan if I'm being honest. but this was written specifically for her because I'm a great friend. (edited so it's not including her name, lol)

________________________________________________

There are some weeks that are worse than others. You know this. You have accepted this It’s par for the course in life. But really – couldn’t Teacher Appreciation Week be better than the other weeks? It doesn’t even have to be by a lot. You’d take a smidge at this point. Hell, you’d take just about anything. You rested your head against the cool wood of your kitchen cabinet and sighed. On the counter, your phone chimed, signaling a text. A moment later, it chimed again.

“Better be something good,” you mumbled. You fumbled for it blindly, refusing to look for it. This week was exhausting. You weren’t going to move more than you had to for the next two days. After a few seconds, your fingertips bumped up against the edge. Unlocking it without looking, you finally cracked an eye open, pulling away from the cabinet just enough to catch a glimpse of your screen.

A second later, two more texts popped onto the screen.

You let out a snort of laughter as you read the messages. You’d almost forgot. One of your neighbors had recommended him, saying that a friend of a friend was pretty handy with fixing things, and would probably do it for a small fee. You’d hesitated at first, but thinking about how much money a handyman would be had swayed you over.

Glancing down at your dog, Darcy, you hummed softly. “If you’re extra nice, maybe he won’t charge us.”

You ran a hand over your face as you headed through the kitchen and to the front door. You hadn’t heard any knocking, so you assumed he was right in that he was at the wrong house. Opening up the door, you peered through the screen. It took a few seconds, but you spotted a guy slowly wandering down the sidewalk, eyes glued to his phone with a toolbox in his free hand. Every few seconds he would glance up, frown, and then look back to his phone. You figured that it was him, but you didn’t say anything. It was the safe thing to do, to not yell at random men from your house.

And besides, he was cute.

Your gaze slipped over him as he walked. Short hair, strong shoulders. Despite the distance, you could tell that he was handsome. A few more steps and he was one house down. Finally, you decided to put him out of his misery.

His head jerked up as he looked around, his gaze eventually settling on you. You quirked a brow at him and he held up his phone in question. You nodded, motioning for him to come inside. A grin stretched across his lips and something in your chest twisted.

Oh.

Oh no.

Oh no, he was really cute.

Very cute.

Handsome.

Shit.

You swallowed and mustered up a grin as he started up the steps. Darcy started barking, excited at the prospect of meeting literally anyone. You unlocked the screen door and took a few steps back, hooking your fingers through her collar to make sure she didn’t take a running leap at him.

“It’s open,” you called as he reached the door. Darcy barked, tugging forward in Joaquin’s direction. “Sorry about her, she’s just really friendly.”

Joaquin was already kneeling down, setting his toolbox down beside him. “It’s fine, I love dogs. You can let her go.” He paused. “If that’s okay?”

You shrug as you let her go. Darcy shot forward, leaping towards him with an excited bark. She was all over him, unable to decide whether jumping or nuzzling was the way to go. You straightened up, your heart already doing triple time at the sight.

“So,” he started, taking his eyes off of Darcy for a second to look up at you. “Your AC is acting up?”

You nodded. “I have no clue what’s going on with it, but it won’t work. Thank you so much for coming to check it out.”

“Oh, no problem at all,” he said, rubbing Darcy’s ears. Her tail wagged furiously. “Especially for a pretty girl.” Red crept up from his neck to his ears, flushing his face in a way that made him even more attractive. He ducked his head, bashful, as he focused solely on Darcy. “So what’s her name?” The sentence came out fast, like one long word.

“Oh, um, it’s Darcy.” Words were hard to form when the phrase ‘pretty girl’ was echoing around your brain.

“Like the author?” He lifted his head as he asked, a small grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “I had to read a lot of her stuff in high school. Pride and Prejudice was always my favorite.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he grinned. “You read a lot?”

You shrugged. “Well, I am a high school English teacher.”

Joaquin laughed and nodded his head. “So you read a hell of a lot, then?” His grin settled more into a smile as he -- somewhat unsubtly -- looked you up and down. A beat of silence, and then: “So, you wanna show me the unit?” He grabbed his toolbox and stood up, arching his back a little as he tried to stretch it out from being crouched down.

“Sure,” you said as you started up the stairs. It was quiet as the two of you walked.

“So when did it stop working?” Joaquin asked, breaking the silence.

“The other day. It just started to sputter a little bit and then quit after a few seconds.” You opened up the door and motioned him inside. The AC was still in the window, still mocking you as it sat in the hot, unmoving air.

“And it hasn’t started up since?”

“Nope. I’ve been dying of heatstroke since Wednesday.”

“Makes sense,” he said as he began to shrug off his jacket. The black t-shirt underneath fit him well.

A little too well, if you were being honest.

He stepped over to the unit and began to lift the window up, as though he were planning to get it out by himself when it was clearly a two-person job.

“You need help?” You asked, already moving towards him.

“I’ve got it, I’m strong,” he said, waving you away. You went to argue with him, but he was already wrapping his arms around the thing. With his attention focused on lifting the unit out of the window, you were free to watch as his muscles strained. What was a two-person job for you was easily a one-person job for him. He took his time in setting it on the ground, guiding it down gently. He pressed his lips together as he sat down on the ground and reached for his toolbox. He looked up to where you were still standing.

“Oh, did you want me to -- I can head downstairs? So I don’t bother you?” You took a step back, but paused as he shrugged.

“Or you could stay up here. I wouldn’t mind the company.”

Your stomach flipped. You stepped inside and took a seat on the ground a few feet away from him, making it a little harder for Darcy to investigate what he was doing. That was it. You were there to keep Darcy away. But as you sat there, you realized that you had no clue what to talk about? What was he into?

It was quiet for a few seconds before he asked what your favorite movie was. And suddenly, the two of you were off. Time passed quickly as you spoke, moving from favorite movies to books to exchanging family stories. You learned that he was in the military, and traveled often. You’d asked what he did, and he just shrugged his shoulders, looking from the AC unit to you, and smirked.

“Stuff.”

“Like top-secret stuff?”

“Oh yeah,” he’d said, holding the smirk for another second before laughing. The corners of his eyes crinkled when he laughed.

You liked it.

Despite it feeling as though no time at all had passed, he announced the culprit -- a bad wire -- and it seemed like once he’d figured it out, he was done. But when you glanced at the time on your phone, your eyes widened. Two hours had gone by.

You shifted your gaze over to the window as Joaquin straightened up and tried out the AC unit. It worked like a charm. He nodded and gave the unit a little pat, as though silently congratulating it for working once more.

“So how much do I owe you?” You asked as he turned to face you.

“Nothing, that was easy.”

“That was two hours, I have to give you something.”

He shook his head. “Your company was enough.”

“Come on, let me--”

“Y/N,” he said, taking a step forward. “Your company was worth it, I’m not accepting your money.” He pressed his lips together, looking as though he wanted to say something more when his phone went off. He glanced down at it and sighed. “One sec?” He asked, already swiping to answer the call. “Hey Mom, yeah I -- yeah. Yeah, yes. I can pick that up. You want me to snag one for Grandma, too? No, I just finished fixing up the AC, I -- She’s -- Mom.” You couldn’t tell what was being said, but his cheeks were starting to flush. You could hear laughter on the other end of the line. “Yeah, yeah. I’ve got to go. I’ll see you in a bit.”

You raised a brow. “Your mom?”

“Yeah, she wants me to stop by the store on my way to visit her.” He glanced from you to Darcy and sighed. “I should probably be on my way out.”

Disappointment made itself at home in your chest. “Right, yeah,” you said, heading towards the door. The two of you made your way down the stairs, Darcy following happily behind. When you reached the first floor, you went to lean against the couch. Joaquin had his hands in his jacket pockets as he made it a few steps after you. He stood there, shifting his weight awkwardly from one foot to the other.

“Thank you, seriously. I cannot thank you enough for fixing that,” you said.

He shook his head and grinned softly. “It was no problem, Y/N.” He took a few steps towards the door before turning back to look at you. “I’ll see you around?”

You returned his grin with one of your own. “You’ve got my number.”

His grin grew even wider before he turned and headed out the door. Darcy trotted over to the door after it closed, her eyes tracking his every move as he headed towards the sidewalk. You watched for another second before calling Darcy away from the door. A minute and one treat later, the two of you were cuddled up on the couch. Idly, you switched tabs from Facebook to Tumblr, trying your hardest to avoid thinking about the last couple of hours before you heard your phone go off. Thumbing into your messages, your face instantly lit up.

________________________________________________

Two months later, you found yourself walking towards a small, hole-in-the-wall bar tucked into a sidestreet. Joaquin’s hand on the small of your back as you walked, you trying not to laugh as he gave you what felt like a rundown before one of his missions.

“Just… ignore them if they try to embarrass me, okay? I’m much cooler than whatever they say.”

You laughed. “Are you, though? Are you really?”

“Hey,” he said, giving you an indignant look as he held the door open for you. You stepped inside, taking note of how warm it was inside. People crowded around tables, the low hum of voices occasionally getting louder when the television in the corner showed someone making a basket. Joaquin tapped your shoulder, nodding to the right. “I am very cool, I’ll have you know. Just last week, I –”

“Hey, Torres!” A voice called from a back booth. Joaquin sighed as he stepped in front of you and lead you towards the booth. “Weren’t you the one to say, ‘be there at seven and don’t be late, I really like this girl?’ And you’re what, thirty minutes late?”

“Thirty-two minutes late, by my count,” another voice chimes in as the two of you get closer. You’re already grinning as you note how Joaquin ducked his head.

You lean forward, just close enough so he’ll be able to hear you. “You really like this girl, huh?”

It was difficult to hear his response with his back turned to you, but you watched as his shoulders slumped and caught what sounded like a “not you too.” You tilted your head back and laughed, bright and airy, as you approached the table. Your eyes settled on the two men crowded into the booth, your laugh cutting off as recognition settled in.

He hadn’t said that they were these friends.

“Y/N, we’ve heard a lot about you. Like a lot about you.”

He’d only ever talked about work in the abstract, which made sense. It wasn’t like he could go on, telling you all the details about whatever mission he was on. But he’d spoken of coworkers and even one that had become a friend. But he’d never mentioned names, or the context of things, or…

“Honestly, the kid doesn’t shut up about you.”

Or the fact that they were literal Avengers.

Joaquin groaned. “Can you two—”

Sam Wilson settled back into his seat and grinned as he motioned for you to sit down. “I’m Sam, this is Bucky. It’s good to finally meet you.”

[lupienne]

Who’s Number 1?

I realized I never put this older fic up on here. *reads it over* No wonder… Heh. Well, anyway… It’s Sherry x Negan smut. 7,261 words. (Why the fuck is this so long? Editing is your friend, you long-winded idiot.) Possessive Sherry/ switchy Negan. (and comic-based as per usual for me. It’s also set in my ‘Days of his Wives’ timeline but you don’t need to read that.)

And yeah…my smut is about as clunky and unsexy as a pair of granny panties.

Sherry’s hair was tousled and she’d thrown on a wrinkled t-shirt and a short skirt with sneakers. She wasn’t meeting her polished Negan’s wife standard, and she didn’t care.

Negan gave her a disapproving look as she descended the stairs to Sanctuary’s main level. But he kept his mouth shut and loudly drew a few random Saviors over to watch him play ping-pong.

She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “Oh, what a great pass,” she said sarcastically as Negan missed and the ball hit the ground inches from her feet.

“Lucky shot,” he mumbled.

She crossed her arms tighter. Shit, it was cold down here. Outside, the snow was flying. She could barely see the fence through the factory windows, and the chained walkers were unmoving blobs. The cold slowed them down, made them sluggish.

It’d been cold in her bed last night too. She’d been about to tuck in for the night, dragging another blanket from Negan’s closet. He followed her into the girl’s room.

“Something you want?” She flopped down the blanket, giving him a sour look.

He was peering at the sixth bed in the room, which Nova had turned into a junk pile. “You girls…uh…don’t use that bed…do you?”

She looked up from making her bed, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Why?”

“I’ve been thinking-”

“No.”

“What?”

“What you’re thinking, Negan. And the answer is no.”

“But I didn’t even say anything…”

“I know what you’re going to say!” Her voice rose. “You are not bringing another woman in here!”

“I wasn’t going to say that.” He tried playing the innocent card. It backfired, as always. He was the polar opposite of innocent.

“Who?” she said. It didn’t matter. She was just laying out her kindling all around him. Ready to strike a match and burn him down.

“No one…” He shrugged, picking at the hem of his shirt. He sent her a doleful smile. “Well. I had a conversation with one of the new chicks. Charlotte-”

“That red-headed slag? I should have fucking known.”

She’d seen the new Savior girl come in last week. Been a witness to Carson passing her off to old Molly to show her the ins-and-outs of Sanctuary. And Sherry knew Charlotte was just the sort of girl Negan would want to have ins-and-outs with. Long red hair, freckles dappled on her face and arms like a little wild pony for him to tame.

“I wouldn’t describe her like that…” His lips quirked. “She-”

“Conversation, huh?” She sneered. “How ever did she manage to speak when her mouth was full of your cock?”

“Heh. I wish…” Negan shut up in mid-chuckle and backed away from her. His hands up as she came at him with clenched fists. “Whoa, whoa…wait a minute.” He deflected a blow to the crotch. “You crazy bitch, watch where you’re fucking aiming!”

“I am watching!” She kicked him in the shin.

“C'mon, Sherry.”

“Don’t ‘cmon, Sherry’ me!” She screamed. “You think this shit is funny?! We have to devote ourselves to you, and yet, you’re out sleeping around, bringing home who-knows-what goddamn diseases.. and you just fucking brought Amber in!”

And that was it, most of all. She was pushed back to fifth place. Bumped out of her throne by Shanda and Jazzi and teenage jailbait and little Miss Can’t-Do-Wrong Amber…and now? He wanted to shove her into sixth.

Her throat burned with bile.

Negan gave her puppy-eyes. “I’m just fucking with you! Look, I’m not adding any more. Seriously! Sherry, it’s just a joke…”

“You’re always going on about how you want to fuck a redhead.”

“I didn’t sleep with her. I’m not going to. I think she wants me to…but I’m not gonna do that shit! I fuckin’ promise!”

“She wants you to…” She forcefully fluffed her pillow. “You are so goddamn full of yourself. You fucking pig. Get the hell out of my room.”

“Yeah, get out.” Nova’s voice came from behind Negan’s bulk. “You’re in my way. Dickhead.”

The girl shoved past him, her face sullen. She must’ve overheard.

“Fine…” He snorted. “And I fucking mean it. Last thing I need is more goddamn nagging harpies on my ass. In fact, maybe I ought to downsize.”

“Get out.”

He remained rigid. “Get out? This is my fucking house, Sherry, and I don’t have to ask your fucking permission on who’s going to live in it-”

“Get out!”

He slammed their door behind him. Nova and Sherry exchanged a disgusted look, before each retiring to their beds for the night.

He was already gone when she got up in the morning. She had a feeling he’d crash in one of his men’s room that night or make an excuse to hit the road for a few days.

Fucking weak-ass douchebag.

She was even more annoyed that, despite the cold, Negan had taken off his leather coat. His white shirt clinging to his muscles, leather gloves crinkling around the racket. It wasn’t just her eye that was being taken by his attractiveness.

Charlotte was standing on the other side of the table, sandwiched between two elder Saviors who were frequent observers of ping-pong matches. The old man, Orson, was also their door sentry. Charlotte’s long hair was buffeting him in the face repeatedly throughout the match. For every time Negan glanced in her direction, her hair would toss, her lip bit between seductive teeth. Then she would coyly flit her eyes away, flush spreading across her freckles.

A dimple showed in Negan’s cheek every fucking time.

Sherry’s eyes were dark. She knew that smile of his. That look. ‘I’m going to bend you over and fuck you raw, honey.’

Another hair toss. Orson finally stepped away. Charlotte was definitely down for that. She clapped along with the elders when the predictable end of the match came. Negan set down the racket and gave a little curtsy to the weak applause.

“Thank you, thank you. You may resume your daily scheduled tasks.” Such a gracious leader, for letting them stop work just to watch him prance about, feeding his already bloated ego.

How fucking generous.

The crowd broke up as he strutted away. Her vision was blocked by Saviors going this way and that, but she swore she saw a flash of red hair…heading down the same hallway Negan had taken.

You fucking scag. You’d better not even try it.

She was already playing the scene in her mind. Charlotte telling him how great he was at ping-pong! Him pulling her into a storage room and pushing her to her knees. Fisting her red hair, making her choke on him. Telling her he always loved a little fucking ginger.

Firecracker. That’s what’d he call her. Mmm…little firecracker, taking my cock like a pro. Don’t tell my wives…

She growled, but inwardly berated herself. Charlotte was an opportunistic tart, surely, but Negan was no saint in the matter. He encouraged it. It was silly to lay blame solely on the girl. And yet. Her fingernails turned to claws, as her possessive heart disregarded reason, as it filled with rage. Her territory was being breached.

She followed the trespasser, and Charlotte followed Negan. The bitch was tailing him, moving down all the same corridors. Sherry kept back at a discreet distance, letting the beacon of the fiery hair guide her. When he stopped, so did Charlotte, and so too did Sherry. The girl made pathetic attempts to look busy when he chatted up fellow Saviors. Waiting for the opportunity to pounce when he was alone.

Sherry ducked behind a large pipe as Negan stopped towards the entryway of one of the foundry’s many vast rooms. There was a storage closest on the far wall she was quite familiar with, and the sight of its rusted door never failed to get her juices literally flowing. It was a place she and Negan had met in her days prior to becoming his first wife. Trembling with the thrill of discovery, savoring the secrecy of it.

You gonna start another tryst in there today, Neegs?

Charlotte squared her shoulders and approached him. Closer…closer…and then Tara came through the doorway and nearly collided with him. He shoved her lightly, she shoved him back, and they engaged in their typical vulgar banter. Charlotte’s shoulders slumped…mistaking their verbal jabs for flirtation. She quickly turned and headed back down the hallway towards Sherry, trying to look nonchalant.

You dumb bitch.

Sherry slid into the shadows behind the pipe, her fingers trailing it. They came away coated with soot. She frowned and rubbed them off on her wrist…it looked like a bruise in the dim light. Charlotte was getting closer, her feet scraping the ground. Sherry held up her dirt-stained wrist, a sudden idea sparking.

Negan and Tara disappeared through the doorway, still yammering at each other. Charlotte ceased her casual walk and let out a sigh.

“Psst,” Sherry said, peering out from around the pipe.

“Oh! You scared me.”

“Come over here…”

“Um…is something wrong?”

“You don’t know me.” Sherry scrunched her neck into her shoulders, her green eyes wide and flitting fearfully about. “But…I noticed you were following Negan.” She swallowed hard.

“Oh…” Charlotte shook her head. “I wasn’t-”

“I’d stay away from him. He’s bad news.”

“I’m not following him. I was just…walking in the same direction.”

“Yeah. You were.” She sniffled. “I’ve seen it before. Lots of girls want to be a quick side fling. Think they’ll get favors or extra points.”

“What I do is none of your beeswax. And I wasn’t going to-”

Sherry talked right over her. “He’ll fuck you, sure, but that’ll be it. He won’t give you anything else. Might rough you up a little. He uh…tries to go easy on us…because we’re his wives.”

Charlotte stared at her.

“Doesn’t want it to come out how he hurts us. Our ‘husband’…wants to come across as generous and loving. It’s an 'honor’ to be with him. So…he holds back. Girls like you? You don’t mean shit to him and none of you will ever speak out against him.”

The redhead glanced back to the doorway, shifting uncomfortably. “You’re…a wife?”

“Yeah. Worst mistake of my life.” She peered out from around the pipe, gnawing at her lip. “But uh…I didn’t say that.”

“…You guys look like you have it so good.” Charlotte’s eyes dropped to Sherry’s wrist, where it was clutched tightly across the brunette’s chest. “And Negan seems… nice.”

Sherry laughed. “Nice? He just wants to fuck you. Use you.” She shifted her arms, faking a wince of pain. “Please. Just stay away from him.”

The girl’s eyes were still on her faux bruise, and then they trailed along the sooty pipe. Her chin suddenly jutted out. “That…that’s just dirt. And I saw you earlier… your arm wasn’t like that.”

Sherry smirked, stepping out from behind the pipe. “Well. Aren’t you the observant little bitch. You fucking got me.”

The corridor was abandoned. She reached out, grabbing Charlotte’s collar with both hands, and twirled her about, slamming her into the wall behind the pipe. Charlotte gasped.

“Hey!”

Sherry bared her teeth. “I’ll admit it. I got a little theatrical.” She drew the girl away from the wall, slammed her back again. Charlotte grunted, smacking her in the face. Sherry returned the blow, but it was with a closed fist. The redhead yelped.

“But believe me when I tell you…you fuck with Negan…and you will be fucked up.”

“By who? You?” Charlotte panted, her hand curling into a fist.

“Ah-ah-ah… don’t even. You know what happens to people who touch one of Negan’s wives? I say the word and half of your face is gonna be char-broiled.”

Charlotte’s lip quivered as Sherry smiled, a slow cruel spread of the lips.

“Just look at Dwight. You’ve seen him around, yeah? Guy with a burnt face?” Her stomach twisted guiltily, but she ignored it. “He used to be my husband.”

The girl’s fist loosened.

“That’s right. You be a good girl and keep your slutty hands away from my man…and your life will be fucking splendid.” She patted Charlotte’s flushed cheek. “Got it?”

“Y-y-yeah…” The girl fled as soon as she was released. Sherry waited until she was gone until she bent double, stifling laughter in her hand.

Oh my God. That was awesome. That is probably the bitchiest thing I’ve ever done!

She straightened up, shifting her thighs together. Something hot and heavy was curling in her stomach, and it wasn’t her earlier guilt. Oh no…it was something much different…gripping the entirety of her body and darkening her eyes.

Time to mark my fucking territory.

She tracked Negan down. He wasn’t far from the doorway, still bantering with Tara. When he saw her, he dismissed his female lieutenant.

“Next time I see you, you’re gonna be walking with a limp…” Tara smirked, giving Sherry a nod. Negan grunted.

“Get the fuck out of my sight.”

Tara mock-bowed. “Of course, sir. I’ll be sure to add a bag of ice to my scavenging list.”

“Bitch.” He grunted as Tara made her exit. He heaved a sigh and turned his eyes on Sherry. “Ice. Right. Because that’s what you’re fuckin’ here for, right? To bust my goddamn balls?”

“We need to talk.”

“Oh, fuck me sideways – don’t say that. You know how much I dread those four fucking words?”

“In private.” She grabbed his jacket sleeve. “Come along, mister.”

“Sherry, I’m fucking busy.”

“Walk.”

He grunted again, following her back into the hallway.

“Get in there.”

“What the shit, Sherry. Can’t you wait until later? When I’m home?”

“You aren’t coming home. You’re gonna hide tonight.”

“Yeah…and you know why. I don’t want to be walking with a limp.”

“I promise I won’t touch your balls.” That was a lie. But he didn’t have to know that.

Once he was in the storage closet, and the door shut, she turned to give him a severe look. There was a small casement window that let in dim, dusty light. Dust motes floated above their heads. Memories of stifled moans and sweat flooded back to her.

Negan shifted his weight. “Heh. Isn’t this our closet…?”

“Yeah.”

“I see.” He looked away from her. “You brought me in here to fucking tell me you’re leaving, right? Like, where we started is where you’re gonna end it-”

“That Charlotte chick was following you.”

“She was?”

“Oh, don’t play dumb with me, you big fucker.”

“I didn’t see her, and fuck this bush-beating shit, Sherry. Just get to your fucking point.”

“Yeah. Sure, Negan.” She drew closer to him; and his eyebrows raised in apprehension. She noticed his hand was creeping around towards his belt, poised to protect his fragile cojones from her. He yelped as grabbed his lapels with both hands, yanking him down to her.

“Sherry, what the- mpph!”

His words were cut off by her vicious mouth. She batted away the hand at his belt, and began to unbuckle it.

“Mmmph…” He said through her kiss. His eyes went wide as she pulled on his bottom lip with her teeth. She growled, yanking his opened pants down, exposing the curve of his hip. Another yank, and there was his delicious happy trail.

“Sherry…?” He was stock-still, even as she gave another hard yank, leaving him standing with his boxers around his thighs and his junk hanging out. “What…”

“I need your dick in me. Now.”

“Uh…” He grinned like a moron. He took a step back, hiking his pants up. “…this is a trick, isn’t it?”

“Shut up, Negan!”

“You’re mad at me. I don’t want you near my dick.” He started to button up, and she flew at him, shoving him to the wall. Her hand thrust down into his boxers, gripping him in her first. Sliding up, down, her thumb rubbing under the head of his cock.

He shuddered, his hands fluttering in the air, unsure of what to do.

“Sure, I’m mad at you,” she hissed. “When am I not? So, how about we fuck and make up? Extra hard, so I can get all this irritation out of my system.”

He bit his lip, his eyebrows flinching as she continued to rub at his sensitive spot. She knew it was a bit too much stimulation out of the gate. But he was definitely starting to stiffen up. He pried her wrist away.

He nodded towards the door. “People will hear us.”

“Then keep your mouth shut.”

“It ain’t my mouth I’m worried about.”

She pulled off her wrinkled t-shirt and threw it at him. “Gag me, then.”

His eyebrows shot sky-high. His dick was definitely coming to life now. She saw it stir under the denim fabric. She came towards him, eyes glinting. Fuck, she was wet, and she shifted her hips. Swollen, aching.

He took a bandanna out of his pocket, discarding her shirt. “This really isn’t a trick, Sherry? You’re not gonna rip my balls off? Please say you’re not fucking with me.”

“I won’t be fucking with you if you don’t shut up!”

He just stood there like an idiot. She took his hand and pulled it up under her skirt. His breathing quickened when he felt her panties, when he crept one finger inside her slick wetness. She gasped slightly, pressing his hand more firmly against her. “Still think I’m lying to you…?”

“Ok. Ok. Fuck… Shit.” He fumbled to pull the bandanna around her mouth, tying it in a loose knot behind her head.

There was a table against one wall. She remembered that table well. It was solid and sturdy and didn’t make a lot of racket when two people were doing indecent things upon its metal surface. She gasped as Negan suddenly turned her, bending her over it with a rough motion. Equally rough, he yanked her panties and skirt down to her knees. His voice a growl in her ear. “How am I gonna know if it’s too rough for you…?” Her body jolting as he entered in one hard, deep stroke, and she cried into the gag. “Guess I won’t…”

“Mmmmpphh!” Her knees bent inward, her legs quivering. Her hand clawed ineffectively at the metal table. Pain sparked as he stretched her with his thick girth, as he filled her to the hilt.

“Ohhh…you’re so angry at me, Sherry.” He nipped her ear. “I’m gonna really have to fuck this animosity out of you.” He gave her a few, slow easy thrusts to start, letting her adjust – but not for long. Moments later, he had one hand wrapped her throat, her toes nearly leaving the ground with each hard thrust. His thighs connecting with her ass, the smack-smack of his balls against her. She saw stars.

And he was right – she was still filled with animosity. Because this could be Charlotte right now.

“I like you like this…” That deep voice, rumbling through his chest and into her. “Your fucking mouth shut? You should wear this fucking thing all the time.”

Asshole!

“Yeah. You talk way too fucking much. You don’t know your goddamn place. But you know it now, huh, Sher? Bent over and taking my fucking cock!”

You fucking asshole! She screamed through the gag, and he laughed. His hand came down with a loud smack on one of her ass cheeks. She jolted in surprise, screeching into the gag. Another slap to the other side. She shook her head, yelling reprimands into the bandanna.

“Stpphht!”

“Huh? Shouldn’t talk with your mouth full, Sher-Bear. That’s bad manners.” *Whack*. That big hand was gonna leave an imprint.

“Nggggnn!” She writhed under him. He leaned forward, pinning her with the weight of his body. She could hardly breathe.

“Don’t think I’ve gotten all that aggression out of you yet, babe.” He smacked her ass mercilessly. She writhed and struggled, her skin burning. Tears rose in her eyes, and she whimpered.

“Ngggn…stph…stphhh!”

“You gonna be a good girl?” He cooed into her ear, and she nodded. “Huh?” His teeth grazed her neck.

“Y-yessssh.”

He chuckled, leaning back to allow her space. She breathed in hard through her nose. He took her breath away again as he renewed his aggressive thrusts, his arms wrapping her torso and holding her to him. She moaned, the gag wet with spit. Her insides thrumming as his cock hammered into all the right spots. Her eyes rolled back. Fuck! This was heaven.

Ok…maybe I won’t bust his balls. She nearly laughed.

“Good girl,” He groaned. “There’s no need to get so fuckin’ riled up, babe, but fuck me if it ain’t flattering. I ain’t ever gonna risk losing this pussy.”

And… back to wanting to bust his balls again. He was such a scoundrel. Yeah. She liked that. Scoundrel. He’d get a kick out that endearment.

“You like that?” He cooed into her ear before licking tenderly along the column of her neck. She nodded.

“Mmmhmm.”

“Feels so good, huh?”

“Mmhmmm.”

“Yeah. You wanted my cock so bad you fuckin’ tracked me down. You know how fucking hard that makes me? You feel it?”

“Mmmhmmm.”

“You’re so fuckin’ wet for me, aren’t you?”

She snorted. His attempts at dirty talk were always laughable. She didn’t have any spare breath to chuckle. She delved a hand between her legs, rubbing two fingers on her clit. Sparks of pleasure travelled her spine. She wouldn’t last long at this rate.

He roughly grabbed her hand and pulled it away. “Did I say you could touch yourself?”

So much for marking my territory. Her damn territory was marking her! She growled and wrested her hand away. He let it go, but only so he could punish her ass with another stinging slap. She squealed. He grabbed both ass cheeks, digging his nails in and pounding her so hard the table slid several inches across the floor. He let out a deep groan.

She gasped under the onslaught, arching her back, wiggling her hips, squirming to get him in just the right spot to -

“Mmm. Sherry. Your fucking ass is so hot! Can I switch holes?”

She shook her head.

“What was that? Speak up, I didn’t hear a fucking thing you said!”

Another frantic head shake.

“Oh…I think I’m gonna,” he rasped. “I want to hear you screaming through that thing. But just think…no one else will be able to hear you…”

His finger teased her backdoor. She whimpered and tried to rip the gag off. “Nggn! Nnnn!”

He patted her butt with a laugh. “I’m just fuckin’ with you, babe. I ain’t ever gonna sneak in there without express permission. Well… not my dick anyway. I might still give you a little surprise…”

She jolted as his spit-slicked thumb pushed inside her rear. Then he was fucking her again, using the buried thumb as a goddamn handhold. Her head tilted sideways, as she moaned around the strip of cloth in her mouth.

He groped her breasts, gripped onto her thigh. Smack, smack, their bodies collided loudly. Gag or no gag, people would know exactly what was occurring in here. She hoped Charlotte was nearby. Listening, with an ear at the door. Her face as red as her hair with sheer jealousy.

“Hrrddrr,” She groaned through the gag. The metal table was slippery with her sweat. He took hold of her hip and obeyed; her body shunted back and forth.

“Fuck yeah,” he hissed. “You like it rough, huh, you jealous little bitch? I know that’s what this is allll about.”

She growled.

He took hold of her hand and roughly guided it between her legs. “Now you can touch yourself. I want you cumming before this fucking minute is up.”

Who the fuck is in charge here?

Well, it obviously wasn’t her. Her legs quivered as her fingers twisted between her legs. Fuck! His thick finger in her ass…his thrusts rocking her, her swollen nub twitching under her touch…

“You don’t cum soon, and I’m gonna start fucking your ass, Sherry. You want that? I fucking want it, so believe me, I ain’t got shit to lose.”

That thick cock sinking into her ass! Her insides twisted in dread, and anticipation… Her clit twitched under her fingers. Even with the gag, her whimpering cries rang off the walls.

“You’re running out of time, baby.” He bucked against her hard, his breaths ragged. The big motherfucker wouldn’t last long enough to fuck her ass anyway!

She pulled the gag down. “…this ain’t… hard enough…”

“Hey…” He tried to wrest the gag back in place, but it was too much effort. “Alright, babe. How’s this?”

The metal table ground against the floor as it slid forward several inches. She braced herself against it with both hands. Her bones rattled from the impact. He fisted her hair in one hand, yanking her head back, leaving his mark on her neck.

Yes. Give that bitch something to look at!

“Yes…yes…Negan…” She praised him in whimpering moans, and he responded with even more effort to please her.

Pressure built in her core, and she writhed on the table, her hands clenching onto the edge with white knuckles. His balls slapping her, loud delightful smacks, oh, how she loved that sound! The wet sloppy sounds of their sex. His deep, breathy grunts. His fingers leaving bruises. “Fuck, Negan! Right there…” A sobbing cry left her. “Right there, baby, right-” She couldn’t speak any more.

Her climax hit, hard and merciless, taking her breath away. Her walls clenching around him, her clit pulsing under her fingers. Negan chuckled in smug satisfaction.

“Holy shit…” She sprawled slack on the table, struggling to regain her breath. Every cell in her body was flooded with warmth, a firefly glow. Wetness oozed down her thighs. Negan was still grinding away, his breath laboured…he was only a few thrusts away from flooding her further. “Negan…” she said, through her heavy breaths. “Stop.”

“I’m almost there, babe,” He grunted. “…just…a little longer.”

She reached back and shoved at his thigh. “I said stop!”

He grunted again, a slight whine squeaking through his teeth. His thrusts slowed slightly, but he still wasn’t stopping. She clenched a fist and punched him in the hip. “Get off me, Negan! NOW!”

“Fuckin’ fine!” He yelped, and she was left empty on the table as he jolted backwards. She turned to see his face torn between annoyance and desperation.

“You did come in here to fuck with me,” he whined accusingly. “…and I’m so stupid I fell for it-”

“Yeah, you’re stupid,” she said, “but don’t pout just yet, you big fucking baby.”

“I don’t have time for this…” He reached down to grip himself, but she slapped his hand away.

“Did I say you could touch yourself?” She pulled the bandanna from off her neck. “Put this on. You stay quiet like a good little boy…and ole Sher-Bear will make you feel real good.”

He looked doubtfully at the gag.

She leaned back against the table, running a hand seductively between her breasts. “Put it on, Neegs.”

“It’s all… fucking… spitty.”

She licked her lips. “You want my spit on your dick? Then put the fucking thing on.”

It was a wicked delight to watch him tie the gag around his obnoxious mouth. His eyes followed her movements as she folded her t-shirt on the floor… a nice cushion as she sank to her knees. Her cheek pressed alongside his thigh, a sly look thrown. She wasn’t going to tell him…but he was adorable. His brown eyes wide, his big stupid mouth shut.

If only he could be like this all the time… She chuckled aloud.

“Now, you’re going to listen to me, Negan, or I’m going to leave you here with blue balls. You got me?”

He nodded.

“Touch yourself.”

He closed his big hand around his cock and stroked. Groaning through the gag. His hand picking up speed, his hips rocking into his closed fist. Thumb rubbing under the swollen head, circling the slit, smearing his arousal shiny and wet over the tip.

“Yeah, that’s it.”

He breathed harder through the gag, his eyebrows knitting together. His eyes squeezed shut.

“Stop. Don’t you fucking cum yet.”

She smacked his hand when he didn’t listen. He moaned and reluctantly released himself.

She breathed gently on the head of his dick, watching it twitch. Her hands crept up his inner thighs, then cradled his sack in her hand. “I lied…” she said. “I’m touching your balls.”

He laughed.

She rolled his sack in her hand, gently massaging and his shoulders lifted in a sigh. She leaned forward, sucking one ball into her mouth, her tongue caressing the tender flesh. He sighed again, and she felt him shiver. Her hand pressed his dick to his belly and she trailed her tongue along the underside, until she reached a particular spot. A sensitive little gem where his foreskin connected to his shaft – a spot that drove him fucking crazy. She licked upon it, and he jolted in his boots. The gag was no match for his loud groan.

“Mmmm, yeah.” Her tongue slathered all over his head, then back to that spot. He breathed hard, his hands kneading into her hair. His dick twitched against her lips, the salty taste of his arousal was on her tongue. “You like that, Negan?”

He nodded. Oh, he more than liked it.

She smiled, placing a sweet kiss on his tip. “I got a question for you, Neegs. Did you jerk it thinking about her?”

He shook his head, but she knew that was a lie. She could picture him in the bathroom, bracing one hand against the wall while he stroked himself, thinking about Charlotte’s red hair, thinking about how he had plenty of fluids to douse that 'firecrotch’ of hers!

She frowned, placing a finger on the tip of his dick and moving it in slow circles, his cock moving with it. “Now, now. You know what good boys don’t do, Negan? Good boys…”

She drew her hand back. “Don’t! Tell! Fibs!” Each word was punctuated with a sharp, stinging smack to the head of his cock.

He yelped and stepped away from her. Swiftly, she grabbed hold of his balls. He froze in place, his eyes wide.

He pulled down the corner of the gag. “You…you fuckin’ said you weren’t gonna hurt my balls-”

“I never said that.” She stroked a thumb along his scrotum, still keeping a firm hold. “I said I wouldn’t touch them, and well… I already broke that promise, didn’t I?”

“Sherry-”

“Shut up, and put that thing back on.” She tightened her grip, and he flinched. His fingers touched her wrist, and she hissed. “Get your fucking hands off me, Negan.”

“Bitch, you hurt me and-”

She gripped even harder, and his shoulders cringed, a breathy whine of pain came through his teeth. “Don’t you threaten me. You do what I say and your boys will be just fine. Put the gag on.”

He did.

“Tell me the fucking truth this time. You blow your load thinking about her?”

He nodded.

“Yeah. I knew it! How many times?”

He raised a finger.

“You are full of shit!” She tightened her hand, and he hastily put up two more fingers.

She stood up slowly, still clasping his sack in a tightening grip. Her lips pressed to his chin, and she purred. “You are such a lying motherfucker.”

“Ididnkeepcount-” he spoke through the gag.

“That’s a more honest answer, you goddamn pervert. I almost believe you. Well, you can wrestle little Negan all you want over her… but if you put one finger on that little slut…” She tightened her hand, and he shook his head frantically.

She chuckled and slowly slid back down to her knees, releasing her tight grip on his balls and gently rubbing the affronted flesh. Another chuckle. “Oh Neegs…you love getting your balls busted, don’t you?” His dick was dripping precum like a leaky faucet.

He didn’t answer that one. She touched her tongue to his tip, lapping up the dripping arousal, and pulling away to stretch it between tongue and head. Her green eyes peering up at him. The string broke, splattering wet on her chin. She wiped it away, and dipped her head to take him as deep as she could. Just brushing the threshold of her gag reflex.

He moaned. She couldn’t take his entire length like Shanda, and she rarely tolerated face fuckery the way Nova or Amber did. A hand slid under his tshirt, her fingers curling on his belly. Fuck! His deep groans, muffled… his muscles tensing under her fingers, the gag pulled taut between his perfect teeth. She couldn’t blame Charlotte for trying. Her man was hot as fuck.

She set her hand on his thigh while she bobbed her head, feeling the quivers go through him. He wanted to thrust, she could tell, and his hand was trembling too as he clenched it onto the back of her head. She drew back, cooing, “You’re being such a good, good boy, Neegsy…”

“Mmmmhmmm,” he agreed through the gag.

“You wanna cum so bad, don’t you?”

“Mmmhmm!”

“Heh.” Slowly, she circled her tongue around his head. Kneading his balls in both hands. His muffled sounds were making her throb, and she drew a hand down to curl two fingers into her wetness. They were a poor substitute for his cock, but it felt good anyway. His breathing was getting heavier and heavier. His hips jerking in sporadic, twitchy motions. He was close, and she teased him right to the edge before pulling back. His hand went iron-rigid in her hair, trying to hold her against him, and she gave a sharp, startling nip to his foreskin.

A yelp was muffled into the gag, and his hand sprang away from her. She laughed as she leaned back to catch her breath. “Bad boy!”

“Sowwy,” he mumbled.

She smiled cruelly. “Awww. You were so close, huh? Poor Neegs, he wants to blow his load sooo bad. I wonder how long you would’ve lasted with ole Charlotte in here? Thirty seconds before you were painting her face?”

He scowled, then shuddered as she blew a stream of warm air against his aching cock. “We wouldn’t want to get cum all in that pretty red hair of hers, would we?”

She chuckled as his look of annoyance deepened. She withdrew her fingers from herself, slick from her arousal. Her eyes on his, she sucked them into her mouth.

“Take that gag off,” she whispered as she plied her fingers into her lower lip. “I want to hear you when you blow.”

He pushed the bandanna down. “You better start fucking sucking then…”

“I didn’t say you could talk.” One wet finger trailed feather-light up the underside of his dick, and she scraped her fingernail ever-so-lightly across his frenulum. He shivered, gritting his teeth.

Her other hand was delving between her legs again, her fingers slick and wet and warm, and then feeling their way up the back of his thigh and to his ass.

He yelped as she pressed one finger inside him. “S-s-shit!”

His cock twitched and his ass clenched around her finger. She chuckled. “Oh my.”

“Fuck, that hurt, you goddamn bitch! Maybe warn me next-fucking-time?”

“Ok. I’m warning you.” She grinned evilly, before working another finger in alongside the first. He jumped like a lit firecracker.

“Shit! Dammit, Sherry…oh…ohhh. Fuck!”

Her finger curled inside him, finding that treasured spot, stroking upon his prostate. And her mouth, hot and wet, latching onto his swollen head, tongue flitting against the underside. Her hand gripping him and stroking as she worked her mouth up and down.

“Fuck…fuck yeah…” he moaned. Panting, his head tilting back.

“How’s that feel, big boy?”

“Feels fuckin’ amazing…” He grit his teeth, forcing himself to meet her eyes. “Er… but don’t tell the other girls. Um.. about the fingers in the butt thing and all.”

“Gimmie a break, I know Nova and Shanda have stuck bigger things than a finger in your poop chute.”

His cheeks went red, and she snorted in laughter.

“Just…just suck my dick. I got shit to do.”

She ignored him, thrusting her fingers harder inside him. Her hot breath a tease on the swollen head, which had turned a dark, desperate red.

“C'mon… put that dick in your mouth!”

She merely teased him with light touches of tongue. Little licks and taps here and there. His dick was like granite, the veins standing out rigid. “You wanna cum? You want ole Sher-Bear to suck your balls dry?”

“Uh huh, Sher. I wanna cum.” He grit his teeth. “Please…”

Oh, she loved when he begged. She sucked on his sack, leaving a round stinging mark. He jolted and moaned, and his ass tightened around her thrusting fingers.

“Fuck!”

She narrowed her eyes up at him, her grin devilish. Her lips dragged slowly along the side of his dick. Nipping gently at each rigid vein.

“Sherry, Sher-Bear…c'mon.” He whimpered, and activated his most epic set of puppy-dog eyes, his lip jutting out in a pout. “Please…please…I need your goddamn mouth on me.”

She snickered. He was so pathetic she almost wanted to get up and leave, letting him jerk himself to an unsatisfying end. She pressed a finger hard into his prostate and he shuddered, a whine in his throat. Grinding himself into her fingers, his hips thrusting in weird, sporadic jerks, like he’d get some kind of friction from the very air.

“Oh, big boy is so desperate, isn’t he?” She cradled his cock alongside her cheek. “Ok. Since you asked nicely…”

“Yeah…fuck yeah…” He shuddered and kneaded at her hair as her mouth encased his dick, slurping and bobbing along the hard length. She didn’t protest when he gripped harder, rocking himself into the depths of her mouth. She gagged slightly, drawing back.

“Shit. Sorry…”

She ignored him, swallowing his tip again, her hand pumping his shaft in time to her hard suckling. Driving her fingers more aggressively into him. His moans were raining down on her. If Charlotte was outside, she was surely rooted to the spot, her ears ringing with his ecstasy… the ecstasy Sherry was bringing him.

Negan’s hand tightened in her hair, and she felt his dick getting harder in her mouth. Quickly, she pulled back, leaving his cock quivering in mid-air. He whimpered through panting breaths. “S-Sherry…f-f-fuck…don’t stop…not now!”

She leaned back, stilling her fingers inside him. Her gaze locking on his. He was sweating, his eyes panicked. Locked right on the edge of orgasm, every nerve twinging like a live wire.

“You think that hussy can do you like I do?” She hissed. “You want to run around, fucking every pussy you see?”

He bit his lip, afraid to answer, and she hissed again. “You gonna bring that bitch home?”

“No! I already said I fuckin’ wasn’t!” He tried to wrest her head back to his cock. She jerked her head away and he released her hair.

“No? You gonna fuck her? You gonna bring her in here and hump her dirty little mouth?”

“Fuck no. Look, I ain’t-”

“Tell me, Negan,” she purred. Leaning forward, enclosing her lips softly around his cock head. Tongue flitting over salty, silky smooth skin. Her finger stroking inside him.

He moaned low in his throat, his dick twitching upwards several times.

“Careful, Neegs. You’re gonna cum and it’s not going to be any good…” She smiled, and the motion of her lips made his cock twitch again. His entire body tensed.

“Sherry, please…”

“I want to hear you say it. Tell me. Who’s your number one?”

“You.”

“Louder.”

“You are!”

She pulled his cock up, tapping her tongue on his sensitive underside. He shuddered, his hands clenching and unclenching helplessly, his teeth grit. A whimper squeaking out between his teeth.

“Fuck…fuck…I’m gonna cum…!”

“Who’s your number fucking one, Negan? Who’s the one who makes you cum the best? Huh? That fucking slut…?”

“You, Sherry!” He moaned. “You’re my number one!”

“If I asked, you’d get rid of all of them, wouldn’t you?”

He nodded. “Uh-huh. Yeah!”

“Right…” She snorted and tightened her hand around his base. A tight squeeze. Fitting the silken head into her mouth. And then she bombarded him with fierce pleasure – sharp, smooth strokes to his cock, her mouth caressing him, taking him deep. Her fingers dug into his ass and fucking him relentlessly.

“Fuck!” he cried. He gripped a fistful of hair, his hips rocking feverishly against her face. She let him, let him breach her gag reflex, let him choke her, his sweaty stomach smearing her forehead, his body quivering under her, his scent overwhelming, and then hot, relentless gushes of fluid flooding down her throat.

Tears were running down her face when he stumbled back, her fingers pulled from him. He flopped back-first onto the table in a big, sweaty, panting pile of man.

“Oh s-s-shit!” He gasped. One of his big hands flopped onto his heaving chest. She stood up, her legs quivering. Coughing into her hand, the taste of him in her mouth. Her throat felt a bit sore, but overall, there was a wicked glow all throughout her. Seeing him sprawled out like that, spent and red-faced and his dick turning into a limp noodle… and knowing she was the cause of all that exhaustion?

She stepped forward, running her hand up his thigh, and took hold of his softening cock. Her thumb traced circles on the head, still wet from her mouth. He flinched, his hand pushing on her wrist.

“Fuck! You know it’s too sensitive right now, Sher.”

She grinned, pushing his hand away. “You seem to be mistaken about who owns this dick, Negan.”

He sat up, frowning down at her. Her other hand came up and rubbed at his well-spent balls.

“Who owns it?” She gave a light squeeze, and he grunted.

“Easy on the balls, huh?” He tried to pry her wrist away, but she tightened her grip. “Come on, Sher! You know Tara isn’t going to find any fuckin’ ice out there!”

She laughed. “Fucking answer me!”

“You do, babe. You got my dick thoroughly pussy-whipped.”

“Yeah, that’s right, you scoundrel.”

He started to laugh, and she pressed a finger to his lips. “And don’t you forget that. You remember that when you’re jerking yourself over that red-haired hussy. You remember the woman who’s going to put up with you and your shit. When everyone else would just leave you alone to keep jerking it forever.”

She let go of his junk, and he slid off the table to put himself together. Her tshirt was even more wrinkled than before. She slid it on, pulling up her disheveled skirt and panties. She walked out of the closet knowing she smelled like sex, and knowing the glow was all upon her. She didn’t come out like the old days, furtively peeking and scurrying out of the sight of prying eyes.

“Well… guess I should get back to work.” He looked as well-fucked as she did.

She smirked. “Yeah. Guess so. You coming home tonight?”

“…only if I’m forgiven. I’m fuckin’ forgiven, right?”

“You’re fucking forgiven.”

“See you tonight, then.”

They went their separate ways. Sherry headed back the way she’d came. And as she passed the pipe along the wall, she noticed a quick movement.

Charlotte, hiding back there. Her face as red as her hair.

[redvsvblue]

Merry Christmas! 

(SFW, Jeremwood demon AU.) 

Jeremy peers out at the snow battering his window and sighs, his shoulders dropping as he slumps against the counter. He glances over at the Tupperware boxes by the sink and tugs at the hem of his sweater, but instead of taking it off he strolls into the living room.

He glances at the summoning circle still on the floor from last time – a quick fix repairs the gap in the paint and he stands up to light the bowl, muttering the spell under his breath as the flames die.

Smoke billows from nowhere and swirls around in an ominous cloud, dark and purple and crackling with unseen electricity – Jeremy lets himself chuckle at the theatrics and then they disappear, fading away to reveal Ryan, arms crossed and his eyes fixed on Jeremy.

“An odd time to call me,” he says, his eyes drifting away to skip over the decorations in Jeremy’s house, the artificial tree in the corner. “Thought you were busy today?”

“It’s – we got...snowed in,” Jeremy says, rubbing the back of his neck and gesturing out the window. “It’s too dangerous to drive anywhere, so none of us could get to Michael’s.” He glances back at the small pile of presents in the corner for his friends, wrapped in glittery, cheerful paper with ribbon tied in neat bows on the tops. They’ll have to wait until after Christmas, now.

His attention’s snapped back forward by the feel of hands on his arms – Jeremy jerks when he realises Ryan’s teleported to him, rubbing his palms up Jeremy’s arms and looking at the presents as well, his mouth downturned in the corners.

“We’ve all cancelled,” Jeremy says, looking up at the frosty blue of Ryan’s eyes.

“There’s no way I could get them to your friends,” Ryan says, his gaze still fixed on the gifts. “Not without them suspecting something.”

“It’s okay, they’ll wait,” Jeremy replies, hesitantly placing a hand on Ryan’s chest. “But I made dessert for the potluck and it’ll – go to waste.”

Ryan’s eyes snap back to Jeremy and Jeremy smiles a little.

“Unless you wanna help me eat it all?” He asks tentatively, hopefully, his fingers itching to curl in Ryan’s shirt and tug him in for a kiss. Demon contract, Dooley.

“Just dessert?” Ryan asks, lifting a hand to run hot fingers down Jeremy’s jaw.

“I’ve got some dinner we can make first,” Jeremy offers. He hesitates again and swallows thickly, shifting his weight as his eyes dart away. “You don’t have to – stay, or anything, I just thought – maybe – it’s Christmas, I don’t know - ”

“Hey,” Ryan says softly, flattening his palm to Jeremy’s cheek to make him look at him. He smiles gently and squeezes Jeremy’s arm with his other hand, and Jeremy swears the decorations behind him look brighter already.

“I’d love to spend Christmas with you,” Ryan says, pressing a kiss to Jeremy’s cheek. “Much better than you being alone.”

Jeremy nods and Ryan kisses his cheek again before pulling back and looking down at himself with a frown. He glances at Jeremy’s sweater. At himself.

“What?” Jeremy asks.

“I’m not nearly festive enough,” Ryan replies, and snaps his fingers and suddenly Jeremy’s fingers are pressing into wool, thick red wool with a white pattern that matches the white pattern on Jeremy’s green sweater. Two gold Christmas crackers appear on the table beside them and Ryan grins as he lifts one up, offering it to Jeremy with a smirk.

“Christmas, right?” He says.

“Christmas,” Jeremy agrees with a laugh, and takes the other end.

-- 

Jeremy forgets about being snowed in over the course of the day, too caught up in the kitchen and Ryan to remember the snow pushing at his back door and piling on top of his car. He cranks up the Christmas music and sings along badly off-key and Ryan joins him, crooning along to Crosby as he helpfully cuts up vegetables for Jeremy, humming cheerfully along to Carey as he waits impatiently for the dinner to cook.

And after dinner – well, after dinner Jeremy breaks out the pumpkin pie he made for Michael’s potluck and the gingerbread cookies and Ryan moans so loudly at the first bite Jeremy’s immediate reaction is to flush.

They relocate to the living room for the rest of dessert, pressed too close on the sofa and sharing bites of gingerbread men as Christmas films roll on the TV.

And Jeremy’s never really called a holiday magical, but – but when Ryan livens up the glittery decorations with light and life it’s almost impossible to call it anything else. He sprouts reindeer antlers just to make Jeremy laugh, floats ribbons through the air to tie around all sorts of random objects in perfect, pretty bows, makes the baubles glow from inside and it’s some of the prettiest magic Jeremy’s ever seen. And he’s close enough to feel Ryan’s breath on his cheek and close enough to shake them both with his laughter and it’s warm and nice and Jeremy would definitely say it’s one of the best Christmases he’s ever had.

“I didn’t get you a present,” Jeremy says, tapping his fingers on Ryan’s arm.

“You asked me to spend Christmas with you,” Ryan says with a happy little grin, his eyes sparkling in the warm light of Jeremy’s living room.

“Yeah, but - ”

“No one’s asked me to do that in a long time.”

Jeremy glances up at him – the demon, the literal demon sitting in his living room, doing silly Christmas shit with him, with a tacky sweater and gingerbread crumbs on his lips – and his heart does flips in his chest at the odd fondness in Ryan’s eyes.

“Don’t demons deserve a holiday, too?” Jeremy jokes, leaning in a little to chase the addictive warmth of Ryan’s skin, greedy for everything Ryan’ll give him.

Ryan leans back against him.

“Well, I already used all my holiday hours,” Ryan jokes dryly, waving a hand in the air.

“Is this on company time, then?” Jeremy teases.

“Mm, yes.” Ryan sits up a little and turns to press his lips to Jeremy’s jaw, his smile pressed to his skin as he speaks. “So I should really make a trade or two.”

“Oh?”

“Fortunately for you,” Ryan continues, and pulls back to pluck another gingerbread square from the box, “you make amazing desserts.”

“They’re not that ama - ”

“Amazing,” Ryan insists, and pops the square into his mouth. Jeremy rolls his eyes and then Ryan’s stuffing a square into his mouth as well and Jeremy can’t protest while he chews, not when Ryan’s levelling him with that I am right and you are wrong look.

God, Jeremy’s so fucked for this demon.

-- 

“You never told me what you traded your soul for,” Ryan says during a lull in conversation, looking at Jeremy from under his lashes.

“Thought you said you could find out,” Jeremy replies. Ryan shrugs.

“Not as fun,” Ryan says with a slight grin. “So, what did Jeremy Dooley trade his immortal soul for?”

“It’s embarrassing,” Jeremy protests, hiding his face in Ryan’s neck.

“What, longer dick?” Ryan teases, laughing when Jeremy swats his arm.

“No,” he grumbles. “I – traded it – soI’dneverhaveanotherhangover.”

“What?” Ryan asks, his chin nudging Jeremy’s temple. “No, wait, Jeremy, I didn’t hear th - “

“I traded it for a life of no hangovers,” Jeremy repeats, keeping his eyes firmly shut. “Look, I was – young and drunk and - ”

“Oh my god,” Ryan laughs, his shoulders shaking under Jeremy. “You traded your soul for no hangovers?!”

“I was an idiot!” Jeremy exclaims, lifting his head to look stupid laughing Ryan in his stupid laughing face and ignore the crinkles in the corners of his eyes to scold him. “It was fuckin’ dumb, I know!”

“I can’t believe – and what, so – so did it work?” Ryan asks through breathless laughter, clutching his chest with one hand as Jeremy glares at him.

“No,” Jeremy mutters. “The demon was a fuckin’ asshole. A lot like you, really.”

“Hey!”

“He – fucked it up. So I don’t get hangovers under a certain – amount, or whatever, but over that I do.”

“What did you say?”

“I don’t remember! I was drunk!”

“Oh Jeremy, oh Jeremy,” Ryan giggles.

“Shut up.”

“Your soul! For hangovers!”

“Shut up.”

-- 

“Looks like the storm has stopped,” Ryan notes, peering out the window as Jeremy rinses out the Tupperware in the sink.

“Still icy, though,” Jeremy says without looking.

“Yeah,” Ryan allows with a shrug, turning back to Jeremy. “But at least it looks prettier out there now.”

Jeremy sets the Tupperware by the sink and glances outside – it is pretty, his garden blanketed in bright white snow now that reflects the orange-pink of the sunset. The light splashes up through the window and falls on the side of Ryan’s face and Jeremy has to take a moment to admire how attractive he looks in the winter sunset, highlighting his hair and his eyes and catching on the gentle curve of his smile.

Jeremy is so fucking fucked.

“This is usually when I break out the eggnog,” he says, dragging Ryan’s eyes to him again with a quiet laugh.

“That stuff’s disgusting!” Ryan exclaims, shaking his head as Jeremy waggles his brows.

“It’s Christmas!” Jeremy protests.

“Look, you can – nog your egg all you want, but leave me the fuck out of it.”

And Jeremy does nog his egg – not much, only has a glass because being drunk isn’t as much fun when he’s the only one doing it – and he stays warm and comfortable right by Ryan’s side as Ryan flicks through TV channels and finds Christmas comedies for them to watch together, idle conversation filling all the gaps. Jeremy tells Ryan about his most ridiculous Christmases and in return, Ryan regales him with tales of Christmas past - “So could you be, like, the ghost of Christmas past?” “Well right now I’m ghost of past and present, right?” - and as the sky darkens and the decorations brighten, Jeremy feels so happy he doesn’t even realise his cheeks hurt from smiling.

-- 

“Thanks for – coming. To my one-man Christmas.”

“Of course. Can’t leave my favourite human alone on Christmas, now, can I?”

“Favourite human?”

“Yep. Favourite human.”

Jeremy laughs quietly and slides past him to go through the doorway – the one with mistletoe hanging from it, a cheerful sprig Ryan sprouted earlier with the other decorations – and Ryan stops him with a hand in his sweater, something hesitant in his expression. Jeremy stops. Looks at him. Notices the gap between them is barely a foot but it feels like miles, and Ryan steps forward to close it a little, the mistletoe dangling directly above them now. He tugs Jeremy in a touch more and rests their foreheads together, sighing at the contact.

“I - ” he starts. Hesitates. Lifts a hand to trace his thumb over Jeremy’s lower lip and sighs again.

“You - ” Stops. Hesitates again. Groans in frustration and leans in to bury his face against Jeremy’s neck.

“You’re really - ” Stops. Hesitates.

“Jeremy - ”

“I love you,” Jeremy says softly, quietly, nervously, nearly inaudible if he wasn’t right next to Ryan’s ear. His pulse pounds in his chest, his wrists, thudding so loud he’s sure Ryan can hear it. He doesn’t know what compelled him to confess – the atmosphere, the ease of Ryan’s companionship, the broken little way Ryan uttered his name only seconds ago, quiet and fragile.

Ryan’s breath stutters and he withdraws to look Jeremy in the eye, his thumb sweeping over Jeremy’s cheekbone and Jeremy’s heart feels like glass in his chest, one hit and it’ll crack into spiderwebs and shatter into a million pieces and all he can think about is how the way Ryan’s eyes catch the light and reflect it is almost heartbreakingly beautiful.

Ryan utters a short demonspeak phrase – one that Jeremy’s heard before, one he recognises.

“What does it mean?” He asks, again, like he did all those weeks ago.

“I love you,” Ryan whispers. “It means – it means I love you.”

“Oh,” Jeremy breathes. “Oh.” And Ryan’s eyes look like they hold a million secrets – probably do – and there’s a desperate longing in them Jeremy aches to soothe and he knows this is the worst idea in the history of terrible ideas but he’s in love and -

“I really want to kiss you right now,” Jeremy murmurs.

“You can’t.”

“Ryan - ”

“I want to, too,” Ryan whispers urgently, his eyes dropping to Jeremy’s lips. “I’ve wanted to, we just - ”

“Ryan,” Jeremy repeats. He sucks in a shaky breath. “Fix my deal.”

“What?”

“My soul deal. I want – I want you to fix it. I’ll trade you the...the kiss.”

“Jeremy – ”

“I’ve thought about it a lot,” Jeremy says, and it’s true. Not just the kissing aspect of it, either, but finally fixing his deal, about the kiss contract, about it all. He’s lost a lot of sleep to it and he’s not about to lose any more, he knows what he wants and it’s a damn hangover-free life.

And he wants Ryan to be the one with the contract.

Ryan swallows. Looks away and back at him and so plainly wants that it almost hurts to see.

“Are you sure?” He asks. “Because it can’t be undone, Jeremy, not without - ”

“I know,” Jeremy says firmly. “I’m sure.”

Ryan studies him a moment more, slides his hand down to curl around his neck.

“No hangovers ever, right?”

Jeremy nods. Ryan nods, slower.

“I really do – love you,” Jeremy whispers, and Ryan’s cheeks flush faintly.

“And I, you,” he breathes, and then he closes the gap.

Jeremy doesn’t know if the warmth crawling up his spine is from the contract or the kiss but he fists his hands in the front of Ryan’s sweater to pull him close in, anyway, feels Ryan’s arm wrap around his waist to curl his fingers into Jeremy’s sweater and keep him close, and Ryan’s gentle and warm and Jeremy’s head spins with the intensity of it all and he breaks away gasping for breath.

They don’t get far apart, grasping at each other like they are.

Jeremy feels something lighten in his mind – there’s no more contract to seal, nothing to stop him from kissing Ryan all he likes now, and Ryan looks just as dumbstruck as Jeremy feels and there’s absolutely nothing stopping them when they drag the other back in for a fiercer, hotter kiss.

Ryan backs Jeremy up to the doorframe to steady them, cups Jeremy’s cheek with one hand as the other curls around his fingers and he kisses like he wants, slow and passionate and barely opening Jeremy’s mouth before he’s pulling back for a breather. Goes when Jeremy yanks him back in and they lose minutes to drowning themselves in each other, greedy for each other’s soft warmth and the way each shift in pressure makes their lips tingle. 

And all the I love yous get lost between them, all the words they swallowed down before now bubbling up and melting together, like the soft, pretty snow that coats the world outside, like the icing on the gingerbread squares earlier, sweet and perfect and everything Jeremy could ever wish for under the mistletoe.

(Art is by @electricshipart, thank you so much!)