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megamindsecretlair · 16 hours ago

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'Twas the Night

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. FLUFF, SMUT. Cursing, teasing, PIV, oral (male and female receiving), fingering (female receiving), minor OC lore (sorry!) Use of pet name. Mentions of the n-word, all consensual. Bad jokes, a different side to Terry. Sorry if I missed some. (Some meta jokes and winks and self-indulgent asf)

Summary: Treating yourself to a winter writing getaway, you are startled when the homeowner forgot to mention the 6’3 handyman that came by to fix things around the house. You find an unlikely friendship with the man, opening up about your romance novel. But when you confess that you need some inspiration, Terry is all too happy to be of service.

Word Count: 19,198k

AO3 Link

A/N: WHEW. Forgive me for being late, I was nervous about this one. It's self-indulgent like a MF. I love this Reader and Terry SOOOO bad. I had a hard time letting this one end. So I hope you enjoy it as much as I did! Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, gif, or unhinged ask.

Snow crunched under your tire as you pulled up to the quaint cabin at the top of the mountain. You leaned forward in your seat, looking up at the address to make sure it matched. It did. This was the place.

You were glad the outside matched the picture. You couldn’t count how many times you arrived at an Air B&B, just for the lister to pull some fuck shit.

For now, it looked like it lived up the hype. And you made it in time to watch the sun set over North Carolina a little later. You gripped the steering wheel and squealed with delight. This was perfect. Absolutely perfect.

You rolled your truck up to the small, attached garage and got out of the car. You went up the wooden steps to the wide porch that looked ripped from a magazine. There was a hunter green swing set with a pillowed pad on top of the bench. It even had cute throw pillows to match.

Per the owner’s instructions, you were able to easily find the key box disguised as a lantern. You unscrewed the false bottom, retrieved the key and garage door opener, and replaced the bottom.

You headed back to the awaiting truck, looking back at the cabin. You still couldn’t believe that this was all yours for the next two months while you worked on your latest novel. Your family was sad about you missing Christmas and New Year’s with them, but you had all grown out of the traditions. There was no point to be around just to be around.

By the end of this, you were going to have a rough draft to show your agent. That was a guarantee. You pulled your beanie down before getting back in your truck and pulled into the garage.

You entered and turned on lights as you went through the house, familiarizing yourself with the layout and decor. The owner went with a sage green theme, the cabinets in the kitchen painted to match the small fireplace in the living room adjacent to it. There was a throw blanket in the living room with the same color and you had a hunch that the bedroom would be much the same.

The cabin held two distinct buildings with a short hallway to connect it. The bedroom was modest, room enough to not feel claustrophobic but it wasn’t huge either. You checked and true to form, the bedroom held nothing electrical in it.

The king sized bed was almost too big for the room, but it really brought everything together. And yes, there was a sage green throw across the foot of the bed. The artwork on the walls were as non-offensive as possible, full of pictures of trees and animals.

You pulled your phone from your jacket pocket and started recording. “Hey ya’ll, I made it safe and sound. And it’s like the pictures so it’s not a scam! I am loving all these windows but ugh, can these people do anything other than white curtains, white sheets, and pastels? Like damn, I don’t know if I feel safe around all this white!”

You giggled as you went through the house, checking things out but mostly checking for anything weird or creepy. No cameras, no drilled holes, no false paintings. You showed a few things around the house and then flipped the camera towards you.

“I am signing off, my loves. I’ve got my inspection to do. Love you bunches, I hope to be two-hundred and seventy pages heavier after this!” You blew a kiss into the camera and then sent it to your friends and family.

Almost immediately, your mom started in on the issue with you being out in the mountains by yourself. Your sister piped in to remind your mom that you were grown, still in the state, and it was pretty sexist to say a woman needed a man to protect her all the time.

“Exactly,” you agreed out loud. You put up your phone and then really got to business. You took off your purple jacket and hung it on the coat rack by the door. You took off your purple hoodie and hung that up as well.

You put on your headphones and your favorite cleaning playlist, full of hip hop and R&B oldies. Then, you retrieved cleaning supplies from your car and went through the house with a fine-tooth comb.

Some may call you…odd. And that was fair. You knew how annoying you could be about cleanliness, but you just really wanted to avoid getting sick. You turned into an entire baby when you got sick and considering no one was around to give you said princess treatment, it was best to remain healthy.

That and people were just plain fucking nasty.

Luckily, it seemed like this cabin was professionally cleaned. You mostly sanitized every surface you could find, dancing and shaking your booty to the songs as they came on. “Never Too Much” by Luther Vandross came on while you were mopping the kitchen.

You danced around the small kitchen in your mop slippers, singing into the mop handle as if it were a microphone. You sang along with Luther at the top of your lungs, badly, and let the song keep you energized.

You headed to the bedroom with a black light to check over the sheets and mattress. There were a few specks of mysterious origins which was to be expected, but the mattress was fresh. The sheets were clean as well, but you weren’t going to hop in someone else’s sheets anyway.

You hauled deep rose bedding into the room from your car and made up the bed how you liked. You brought your own pillows as well, fluffing it on top. Now the space was starting to feel comfortable. Your anxiety lowered inch by smooth inch.

You looked around the bedroom, scanning for anything you might have missed. Your eyes caught on the window, on the mix of oranges and pinks.

“Shit!” You screamed as you tore through the house, towards the kitchen, and made you a quick cup of tea. You doctored it how you liked and then added cold water. You took the mug and your own blanket outside to the back porch.

The owner had built another world in the backyard. The patio was covered with an awning that connected to the house. There were egg chairs and a sofa set up around a stylish oak table. Plants sat in planters around the area and there was a rug underneath the table. Fairy lights were strewn about giving the space a warm glow.

“Oh fuck yessss,” you groaned, sitting down in the comfy egg chair and looked out over the open back yard. The grass was vividly green, swaying slightly with the light breeze. Woods encroached the perimeter, thick with leaves and underbrush. Anything could be out there, adding to the mystery and awe it inspired.

You draped the throw around your shoulders and then sat in silence, watching the sunset. Soft blues were chased out of the sky by pinks, oranges, and the softest purples blending into the pitch black sky.

Stars winked on as if there were tiny caretakers igniting each one. Your mind spun with idea after idea, but these you would let pass. Not everything had to be about writing. Some things just needed to be experienced.

The tea kept you warm as the temperature dropped more and more. When your nose got too cold and you sniffed one too many times, you finally packed it in and went back to cleaning. Your playlist kept you upbeat as you cleaned out the bathroom.

Done with everything, you finally felt comfortable enough to shower. Scrubbing the day away with your favorite soap nearly made you ascend to another plane. You giggled to yourself as your mind spun once more, crafting a whole silly scenario just because.

You sighed. You needed a man. Well, okay, ‘needed’ was a strong word. But you were giving up comedy gold over here. There should be someone around to witness it! Then again, did you really want to explain your quirks to someone?

You shook your head. You were not here for all of that. You were here to get some much needed writing done away from your family and friends. You knew they meant well, but it was almost pathological with the way they relied so heavily on you.

As much you knew that they loved you, you also wondered if they even saw you as a human being with your own interests. They knew you needed to write and yet they came bursting in anyway, calling, texting, bugging to no end. You were tired of explaining that you weren’t rejecting them, you just needed to focus on writing.

Either they truly didn’t get it or they willfully ignored your needs. And you just didn’t have time for that. When your editor, Vanessa, suggested that you made enough money now that a writing retreat was well within your budget, it was like a wake up call.

Of course. The solution was right there. You immediately hopped on Google to determine which place called to you more. You always wanted a winter writing escape and a few keystrokes later, you were on your way with your family scratching their heads.

You dried yourself off in the bathroom and lotioned yourself up. You left the bathroom in a cloud of scented steam. You opted for a pair of panties and an oversized red T-shirt that reached down to your knees. The place had central heating but you didn’t want to turn it up too much. Just enough to warm the wooden flooring.

You spent the next hour making tacos, the heavenly aroma of meat and salsa making your mouth water. You cleaned as you went, not wanting to spend the next morning doing dishes. The cabinet below the sink squeaked and you debated telling Mr. Omar about it. It was something small but if you were going to be there for a while, you’d rather not deal with the inconvenience. Ehh, it was small. No need to bother the man for that.

All done, you brought your plate to the living room and camped out, finding something to watch. You had been hearing so much about that show called Rivals on Hulu so you decided to watch it. When the first episode started, you screeched at the TV. It literally opened with someone joining the Mile High Club.

For the rest of the night, you relaxed and zoned out. It was hard for you to truly relax, to truly turn your brain off and just enjoy something. But practice made perfect, so practice you will.

When you yawned for the fifth time in two minutes, you finally gave up the ghost. You turned everything off and put up the food you made. Then you turned everything off as you headed down the short hallway to the bedroom.

It was pitch black inside. Perfect. You only used your bedroom for sleeping and fucking. It signaled to your body that enough was truly enough. No distractions, no connections, nothing to prevent your body from sinking into sleep. And it worked every time.

You crawled into the comfy bed, soothed by the familiar smell of your bedsheets. Your brain blissfully shut up and you fell into a lovely, dream-filled sleep.

You woke up naturally early in the morning. The white curtains in this room were heavier than what was in the rest of the house, allowing limited lighting to reach the bed. Plus, the sun didn’t shine on this side so the added shade soothed your overworked eyes as soon as you got up.

This…you sighed. This was what you needed. You felt so good having true silence for once. No one around, no one bugging you, no one bringing you into their drama, no one leaning on you, no one calling you. It got to the point where you were beginning to hate the sound of your name. Too many people used it to demand your attention, demand your time, and then curse you in the same breath when you retreated and wanted to recharge your mental batteries.

This would likely have to become a tradition. From now on, you would have to choose an Air B&B to get the first draft over with. At least after that, you had the idea out of your head and you could cobble it together among the noise of your demanding family. The brainstorming stage was the most crucial; you could not afford distractions.

You were itching to write but you knew that you needed to eat something first. You got up from bed, scratching beneath your bonnet as you picked your way down the short hallway to the other side of the house.

A heavy boot clanged on something metal, drawing your attention to the kitchen where a tall man dug through your cabinets. You screamed, hopping in place from foot to foot. The man turned around with a jump revealing…a pretty face.

You ran towards the fireplace and grabbed a poker, brandishing it like a spear. “Who the fuck are you?!” You demanded, pulling your shirt down. Fuck. You should’ve worn pants. Well, no, fuck that, he shouldn’t be in your place!

The man lifted his hands and revealed a screwdriver in his hand. “Wait, hol’ on,” he said. His deep voice was unexpected, sounding like a crack of fire on a cold, wintery night.

You moved the poker around in the air, looking around for any other men that may be lurking. The cabin was small enough, the kitchen not too far from the living room. But, besides the bathroom, you could see everything at a glance. You looked out of the windows anyway, searching for any other cars or trucks outside.

“I’m Mr. Omar’s handyman. He asked me to fix the cabinet,” the man said. His scruffy facial hair framed his symmetrical face and hid his lush lips. His eyes were intense, the color of a storm right as it kissed the ocean, and his eyebrows arched severely. He was unreal. But hot or not, he was still a stranger.

His eyes drew down to your legs and you tugged on your shirt as if you could conjure more material. “You think I’m going to buy that? What are you really doing here? You read his mail?” You asked.

You hadn’t seen any mail laying around the place when you cleaned the day before, but that didn’t mean anything. Maybe he dug through the trash or hacked Mr. Omar’s emails.

The man sighed and shook his head. “You watch too much TV,” he said.

“And you need to answer my questions. Who the hell are you?” You asked.

The man kept his hands up but lowered his elbows. “I’m the handyman,” he said, putting emphasis on the word as if that helped. “Terry.”

You squinted at him as you looked around the living room for your phone. You had plugged it in before you went to sleep, but it was hard to look for it and keep an eye on the man.

He watched you and tilted his head. You scowled. Was he just humoring you? If that motherfucker tried anything, he’d lose one of those perfectly sculpted eyes.

You snatched your phone from the end table besides the couch. You held the poker up as a deterrent but the man - “Terry” - didn’t move. He watched you, hands up, calm as a cucumber. If he was a thief or a rapist, he was the worst one you’d ever seen. Or maybe he was the smartest.

You sized him up as you dialed the homeowner’s phone number. “We’re gonna see about you, nigga,” you said. You brought the phone to your ear as Terry smirked.

“I’d believe that more if your voice wasn’t so squeaky,” he said.

“I do not have a squeaky voice!” You yelled.

Terry smirked again, tilting his head as if you just proved his point. “Can I put my hands down?”

“No,” you said. Mr. Omar didn’t answer on the first ring so you tried again.

“Just like a chipmunk,” Terry said. Terry sighed and then leaned against the nearest sink, making you look at the full length of him. He wore dark wash jeans, heavy tan boots, and a black hoodie. He also wore a cream colored beanie pulled low over his head. It ought to be a damn sin to be so fine.

“Hello?” Mr. Omar’s accented voice came on the line. The subtle African pronunciations made you curious about where he was from but you were too chicken to ask.

“Mr. Omar! There is a man in the rental claiming to be your ‘handyman’,” you said, managing to give Terry air quotes around the poker.

Terry smirked and licked his lips, drawing attention to them. They were so pink and big. The more you paid attention to his features, the more striking he became. He looked like a painting made real. Or like one of those artist renditions of Egyptian royalty.

“Ah yes, Terry-Terry. Good man,” Mr. Omar said.

You sighed and turned your head. “What does he look like then?” You asked.

The poker grew heavier now that Mr. Omar vouched for the man. However, you weren’t ready to lower it just yet.

“Tall and like Mufasa,” Mr. Omar said.

You snapped your eyes to Terry, comparing him to a lion. Nah, he was more like a Scar to be honest. But still, the image wouldn’t leave your mind and your thighs responded, tingling with awareness.

You scowled at Terry who pressed his lips together. “Can I lower them now?” He asked, amusement written all over his face.

“Where’s your ID?” You asked.

Terry sighed. “I’m not handing over my ID to a chipmunk,” he said.

You squeaked with an indignant huff and Terry shrugged his shoulders. “Is that all you need?” Mr. Omar asked.

“Why didn’t you tell me he was coming by?” You asked. You lowered the poker down by your waist, business end sticking out in case this Terry character wanted to try you.

“Forgive me, my memory. I’m an old man,” he said. You rolled your eyes. He was far from an old man, in his early fifties and looked young enough to be a senior at college. The man kept himself fit and in shape, telling you all about his fitness journey during the many conversations you had about the property.

“Right. Thanks, Mr. Omar,” you grumbled and hung up with him. Okay, so the man was legit. But that didn’t explain why he didn’t ring the doorbell.

“I didn’t know anyone was here, I’m sorry. Just let me fix a few things on my list and I’ll be out your hair,” he said.

“Can’t you come back when I’m…” you trailed off and clicked your mouth shut. You were going to tell him to come back when your getaway was over but he didn’t need to know your timeline. He could swing back around and murk your ass.

“When you’re done gathering nuts to hibernate?” He asked.

“Fuck you, I’m not a chipmunk,” you said, smiling despite yourself.

Terry lowered his arms and then made a show of putting the screwdriver down. “Do I get to know your name?” He asked.

You debated giving him even that much, but the manners that were drilled into you refused to let you be rude. You tugged on your shirt and his eyes followed the motion. His focus was…unnerving. You cleared your throat and told him your name. He repeated it one more time and you nodded, a tingle going up your spine at the way he rolled the syllables around with that slight Carolina accent.

“Nice to meet you. Now that we’re good, can you point that somewhere else?” He asked.

You sighed and rolled your eyes. “Like you were even scared of it,” you said. You placed the poker down on the coffee table. The metal clinked against the glass top but your eyes were glued to Terry’s.

Terry chuckled and shrugged his shoulders. “You and your mouseketeers are s’posed to be good at fencing,” he said.

“You know what! You get on my damn nerves!” You said and laughed, giving in to his bad jokes.

“Can I do my job?” He asked.

You were still wary about him being in the house while you were practically naked. You glanced away from him, looking at how far the bedroom was. “How many things do you have to do?” You asked.

“Mr. Omar left me a honey-do,” he said.

You sighed. You didn’t like this one bit. You hadn’t planned on having a visitor while you got into the rhythm of things. But you also didn’t want this man to come back. Though…that wouldn’t totally be the worst thing.

You licked your lips and looked between him and the bedroom. You didn’t want to linger on him but fuck, it was like one look wasn’t enough. Every time you looked at him, you noticed something different about him.

“Tell you what. I’ll spread it out. I’ll only do a few things at a time. Deal?” He asked. He held out his hand, beckoning you to come closer. That was how all horror movies started. The devil himself smirked at you and you scowled, understanding exactly how Eve broke. Had you been her, you wouldn’t have stopped at just the apple.

“Deal, I guess,” you said.

Terry lowered his hand and nodded. “Deal. You won’t even know I’m here,” he said.

Riiiiight. “Just…stay out here. I hear a boot coming down the hall and it’s game over,” you said.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, making his accent thicker. The mischief in his eyes made you scowl harder. But his eyes dropped lower and lower and you pulled on your shirt.

You made a beeline to your room, slammed the door shut, and sighed heavily. This was unreal. Absolutely unreal.

You grabbed the nearest pair of sweatpants, yanked it on, and then took a few more deep breaths. You listened for any sense of movement, any creak of the floorboards, or sound of breathing. When there wasn’t any, you cracked open the door.

You headed towards the kitchen to find Terry exactly where you left him, bent over the cabinet as he fixed the hinge. At your approach, he stopped and looked sideways at you. His side profile was lethal, jawline sharp enough to cut glass.

Your belly flipped and you held it like it was a traitor. As if it could give you away. You breezed past him and grabbed your laptop off of the kitchen island, clutching it to your chest as you carried it to the living room and curled up in the corner of the couch.

From this angle, Terry couldn’t sneak behind you and you had a full view of him as he worked. You opened your laptop and opened up your notes for your latest novel. You had the major plot ideas down but you needed to flesh in your characters.

As you researched, adding pins on Pinterest for inspiration, you couldn’t forget that Terry was there no matter what else you did.

He moved with grace like he was completely in tune with his body. The delicate way he held and used the tools drew your attention to his long, thick fingers. Every so often, his tongue stuck out of his mouth as he worked, screwing the bolt down or digging for another screw. He was a distraction and a half.

“You need a picture?”

You gasped as you blinked, coming back to reality. Terry looked sideways at you, his eyes low and sleepy-like.

Wow, your thoughts were not holy. You mentally slapped some sense into yourself. This man was a stranger. A very fine, gorgeous stranger, but an hour ago, you thought he was going to kill you. Be so real right now.

“What?” You asked.

“You were staring,” he said.

“Was not,” you said and sat back on the couch.

“Was to,” he said, testing the cabinet by swinging it back and forth. It didn’t squeak so Terry dropped into a squat to investigate the cabinet below the sink. The stretch of the squat revealed a gorgeous ass to match.

That was it. The man wasn’t real. He had to be conjured from God’s own imagination. God was just showing out when he made Terry and it wasn’t fair. All that fine piece of meat…

Speaking of, you added “piece of meat” under your male character’s profile in your notes. “For your nosy information, staring off into the distance is part of my process. If you happen to step into my line of sight, that’s on you,” you said.

“That right?” He asked and you could hear the humor in his deep voice.

“Uh-huh,” you said. You typed a few more notes, taking in tiny details about Terry. The slope of his shoulders. The curve of his brow. His high cheekbones. Your male character came together more quickly in your mind now that you had a model to work off of.

The cabinet squeaked, breaking you of your thoughts. “It’s singing the song of your people, you know,” Terry said.

You sucked your teeth and Terry chuckled. “Me and you are going to fight,” you said.

“I got a ladder if you want to use it,” he said.

You rolled your eyes and pinched your lips together. He was really going to make you scream. “Are you always this annoying?” You asked.

“I can be worse,” he said.

You stared off into an invisible camera. You could hear the laugh track now. You shook your head and decided to ignore his shenanigans. You fell into a comfortable silence somehow, typing away as more and more ideas came to you. It was no longer weird that there was a strange man in the cabin. Despite being so big, he had an uncanny ability to take up as little space as possible.

“What are you working on? You a writer or somethin’?” He asked.

“Yeah, what gave me away?” You asked.

“The laptop,” he said.

You sucked your teeth and hid your smile behind your hands, pretending like you were suffering the sting of a thousand cuts. Terry chuckled. “I know you want to laugh,” he said.

“Do not,” you said and moved your hands, settling on a smile. That was all his fine ass deserved.

“You write anything I may have read?” He asked. The hinge on the cabinet knocked against the wood as Terry pried it off with the screwdriver. His hands really were huge and you briefly wondered what it’d feel like wrapped around your ass.

You pressed your thighs together and adjusted yourself on the couch. This man was proving dangerous afterall. One meeting with him and you were picturing disgusting scenarios to write.

“Umm, no, my books wouldn’t be your speed,” you said.

“I like nature though. I’m sure a chipmunk survival guide would be right up my alley,” he said.

“The door is right there,” you said, chuckling. He truly got on your damn nerves. But you wanted to hear more. His voice was smooth and deep, a weakness for sure. Your voice kink was in hyperdrive, teasing out every way he sounded out words and syllables to be replayed later in your mind.

“C’mon, what do you write?” He asked. He glanced at you briefly before returning to replacing the hinge. He dropped to his knees as he worked, putting him in a position to arch his back.

Mm, mm, mm. You eye-fucked him as he leaned forward, holding the hinge in place while he screwed in the first screw. He leaned back to dig into the tool box by his feet and you looked away, heat flashing over your skin.

You did not know this man. You did not know this man. You did not –

“Not gon’ tell me?” He asked.

“What happened to not knowing you were even there?” You asked. He was worse than your folks at home. If you wanted to be harassed, you would have saved yourself the money.

“You’re the one staring,” he said.

You took a deep breath to keep from cussing. Maybe it was his face. Maybe he was too pretty to yell at. Or maybe he was so pretty it spurned you to want to hit him. Because as much as you wanted to smack him, you wanted to smack his ass even more.

Sweet fuck you needed to get laid. Maybe you’d redownload that dating app your friends made you download after your last book. You deleted it because apparently, guys took offense when all you wanted was sex from them.

“I write books,” you said, chickening out at the last minute. It wasn’t exactly easy to tell people that you wrote explicit shifter romances. Urban fantasy settings let you have the best of both worlds. Modern technology combined with fantasy and magic, blended together, and created something that scratched all of your itches.

“What kind of books?” He asked.

“Paperbacks,” you said.

Terry chuckled and shook his head. “If you don’t say, I’m going to start guessing,” he said.

You groaned and Terry chuckled at your theatrics. You held up your hand. “Please, spare me. If you must know, I write romance novels,” you said.

“Romance novels…like the ones where the guys have a forty inch dick, eight feet tall, and long flowing red hair?” Terry asked.

You howled with mirth as that image was now seared into your brain. “Ew, yuck! Why! Why would you make me picture that?” You asked when you had enough air in your lungs to breathe.

“I’m just shooting the shit. That’s wassup though,” he said.

“Thank you,” you said slowly, full suspicion. Terry chuckled but didn’t say anything further as he continued working on the cabinets.

You went back to your brainstorming, filling in details about your female main character. You searched for her fatal flaw, the lie she told herself in order to survive before the meet cute with the main male character.

You sighed. You ought to give them names. But you were not prepared to deal with the ads on Nameberry or clicking endlessly on name generators. But you couldn’t very well keep calling them ‘female main character’ and ‘male main character’.

You brought up Nameberry first in the hopes that you’d find something quicker using the alphabet lists. A Q name would be cute. Qianna? Ugh, there weren’t many cute Q names.

“I didn’t know writing could be so hard core,” Terry said.

You looked at him over the top of your laptop with a scowl. “Are you almost done? You’re stinking up the place,” you said.

Terry chuckled and shook his head. “I’ll finish out the cabinets and come by tomorrow for the shower and air filters,” he said.

“What’s wrong with the shower?” You asked. The way he said it…he could make even the most innocent words sound naughty. Because now, you were thinking of the shower. And him in the shower. And all those suds dripping down his naked body…

“Water bill is going up. So Mr. Omar wants me to check for a leak,” he said.

You hadn’t noticed anything but you weren’t a professional handyman either. “How’d you come to be here, Terry?” You asked.

Terry slanted his eyes towards you. “Curious about me?” He asked.

You rolled your eyes. “I could go back to ignoring you,” you said.

“I’d believe that if you weren’t staring so much.”

You took a deep breath and Terry waved you off. “I’ll stop. I got into some deep shit a year back. I wanted to take my mind off it by being as busy as possible. Working with my hands relaxes my mind,” he said.

You nodded. You could respect that. “You live around here?”

“Mr. Omar has another spot up the ways. I work on his properties and I get to stay for free,” he responded.

You sighed wistfully. The things you would do to be able to have an arrangement like that. Only without the handyman part, because fuuuuuck that. “Your family doesn’t miss you?” You asked.

Terry took a measured breath and paused briefly inworking. He then screwed in the final screw and tested the cabinet door, no squeak to be found. “Naw. Not really,” he said quietly.

Duly noted. Shutting up. This was why you weren’t that social. You had a particular knack for picking up on shit people didn’t want to discuss. You hid behind your laptop screen, hunting for more names for your main characters.

Gabrielle was always a cute girl name to you. Now for the perfect boy name…Rashad…Theo…Wesley? Wesley and Gabrielle? That sounded kind of cute together. You put it on the list of maybes and continued hunting for different pairs just in case. Though each one you found didn’t spark as much interest as Wesley and Gabrielle.

“I’m done for the day. In case you had a change of heart,” Terry said.

“Nice try. I didn’t get any work done because of you,” you said.

Terry smirked, eyes crinkling in the corners. “Then my job’s really done,” he said.

You groaned playfully and put your laptop down on the coffee table. You had pants on now but you still felt exposed. Like you were still standing there half-naked. Terry’s eyes tracked down your body as if he recalled your bare legs as well.

You weren’t stupid. You knew he had a passing interest. But what man wouldn’t after living up in the mountains of North Carolina? You doubted he was starving for female attention and you had a book to finish, come hell or high water. Pretty distractions like him did you no justice.

You’d just have to pull out ole reliable, Laz Alonso. Thinking of that man already had you hot and bothered and the vibrator you brought with you would have to be more than sufficient to get you through the winter.

You approached Terry cautiously as he packed away his tools. You openly stared at his backside as he closed the tool box and stood up to his full height. He was so damn tall. Guys like him just didn’t exist in real life. It wasn’t fair.

Terry walked to the front door ahead of you. You kept some distance, not wanting to give him a chance to get too close. Your alarms were still on high alert though he did a good job of putting you at ease.

As he crossed the threshold, your stomach rumbled. Loudly. In all the excitement and hubbub, you forgot to grab food. Terry turned to the sound, stopping a few feet from the front door.

“There’s a bar down the mountain if you ever want to get out the house,” he said.

You pinched your lips. “That doesn’t sound too bad. But maybe not today,” you said and leaned against the door jam. The cold air blew into the warm house, instantly raising goosebumps on your arms.

Terry nodded. “You change your mind, let me know,” he said. “And if you notice anything that needs fixing, definitely let me know.”

You smiled. The thoughts he conjured…”Thanks, I truly appreciate it. But how would I let you know?”

Terry chuckled. He nodded towards the kitchen. “I left my number on the fridge. Need anything, just call.”

You glanced back towards the fridge and saw a few sticky notes on it. You turned to him and nodded. “I’m glad you turned out to not be a creep.”

Terry nodded. “I’m glad you take your safety seriously. Most people don’t. Lock up after me,” he said.

“Yes, sir,” you said, deepening your voice.

Terry huffed a laugh and shook his head. “Can’t hide that voice, sorry,” he said.

“Shut up! And get home safely, Terry,” you said.

Terry took the steps down fast and then spun around to walk backwards. “Worried about me, chipmunk?”

You rolled your eyes. “No, I’d rather not explain to Mr. Omar why his handyman couldn’t finish around the house,” you called out to him, raising your voice the further away he walked.

He waved to you, making it to his truck parked a ways in front of the front door. It was a big blue truck with a larger bed than most you’ve seen. It suited him though. And his rugged appearance. He didn’t strike you as the type to drive a luxury SUV and complain about his shoes getting soaked through from the snow.

You went back into the warm house, shut the door, and locked it behind you. You tapped on it once, turning away with a smile. Now…down to real business.

True to his word, Terry came over nearly every day for the next two weeks fixing things around the house. He managed to find a way to annoy the ever loving hell out of you, but he also made you laugh so hard, you nearly snorted tea out of your nose.

You found inspiration with the little things he did or said. Until “Wesley”, your male main character, started to move and sound like Terry in your mind. You would feel bad, except there was no chance in hell Terry would ever read this book. Ever.

The beginning came together smoothly in your mind. Wesley, the too-serious wolf shifter investigator, was married to his work, only going home long enough to eat, shower, and sleep. Gabrielle, the famous tech genius by day, was also a major thief by night. And as a surprise to no one, Wesley didn’t know he was investigating Gabrielle’s latest crime, the theft of a magic orb from a private collection.

Now…where could they bump into each other… a blind date sounded interesting to you but nothing too easy. Nothing too cliche. Hmm…grocery store? She stumbles upon him after shift? Maybe it’s a full moon and he protects her?

You groaned and backspaced. You were thinking too hard on this one. This one wasn’t coming together in your mind. You looked back over your character descriptions; maybe there was something there to spark interest.

Heavy boots stomped down the hallway from the bedroom as Terry had taken a look at the closet door. So many broken hinges. What were people renting this house for? Parties where they pretended to be animals, swinging from the ceiling?

You snorted at your own joke just as Terry entered the living room. You looked at him and stopped laughing but Terry raised an eyebrow. “Don’t stop on my account,” he said.

He chose a dark gray hoodie this time, the same cream colored beanie, and dark jeans. His toolbox was held loosely in his big hands, and your body flushed with heat. Lost in the brainstorming fog, you hadn’t had a chance to play with Laz and your body reminded you of that. Painfully.

“All done in the bedroom?” You asked.

Terry eyed you and you blinked innocently at him. Even as his eyes made your pussy flutter. Down girl, down girl, DOWN girl…

“Done. Unless you found something I need to fix?” He asked.

You squinted at him but for once, his face was unreadable. You couldn’t tell if that was supposed to be a double entendre or not. Maybe you were just a horny mess. You’d have to look at your period tracker to see if you were ovulating. Because at the moment, you were one step away from asking that man to fix your dripping pussy.

“No, no, no, no. All good,” you muttered. If you couldn’t get some, then at least you could write the filthiest things for Wesley and Gabrielle. As soon as you figured out how they meet.

Terry moved into the kitchen, setting his toolbox down. “I’ll check the windows. There’s a storm moving up here in a week or so. You good on firewood?” He asked.

“I can’t just use the heater?” You asked.

“What if the power goes out?” He asked.

“That really happens? Or are you trying to scare me?” You asked. Well damn. You didn’t have the power going out on your list of tragedies that could happen while you were out here. You knew it could happen but it was rare that you experienced it. One of the pitfalls of staying in someone else’s place. You didn’t have all of your emergency kits.

There was one in your rental car but that was inadequate as hell. You sighed. Fuck. You were going to have to venture into town anyway. You glanced at your laptop. You had the major story beats fleshed out, but filling in the rest was giving you a headache behind your eye.

Still, you itched to keep going after it with a hammer. You wanted to keep pushing yourself and see if you couldn’t solve your problem. It was like you just weren’t feeling this one for some reason, despite being overjoyed at the sexy idea.

“Not trying to scare you,” he promised.

You pouted. “I haven’t tried lighting a fire yet. So I don’t know about the firewood,” you said, feeling like you were five years old for not checking something so crucial. But! You would give yourself grace. You didn’t know before but now you’d make it a point to check everything before venturing off to la la land in your head.

Terry nodded. “I’ll check then,” he said.

“Thank you. Really,” you said.

“My pleasure, chipmunk,” he said with a chuckle.

“You get on my damn nerves!” You yelled after him as he left the house with a booming chuckle. You shook your head as you waited for him to return.

Though this was meant to be a retreat for you, to explore on your own without the watchful eye of your family, you kind of liked having Terry around. He managed to pull you from your spiraling about your writing in the nick of time. You were able to return to your novel with a second wave of inspiration.

But this meet cute was kicking your Black ass. Like this should have been the easiest part. But it was often the easiest parts that tripped you up the most.

Terry reentered the house, kicking his shoes on the mat before stepping inside. The door banged shut behind him, a strong wind passing over you before dispersing in the warm house.

“Firewood’s low. After it thaws a bit, I’ll chop more,” he said.

Mmm, Terry…chopping wood…mm, mm, mm. You had to go on a date with Laz tonight. Maybe a little post nut clarity would work in your favor.

“Thanks. Is there anything I can get you from the store? I’ll need to head down the mountain after all,” you said.

“Road may be slippery right now. You’d be better off going tomorrow,” he said. He pulled his toolbox closer and flipped it open.

You placed your laptop on the coffee table in front of you and then stood up, letting your inside throw blanket slip from your shoulders. You stretched, your limbs and back popping in some areas as you twisted one way and then another.

You crossed closer to him, going towards the kitchen for a cup of tea. If you were going to brave the outside world, you’d need a little help. As the kettle warmed up on the counter, you faced Terry and leaned against the edge.

How to put this without sounding batshit crazy? “It’s important for me to go today,” you said. “Preferably before the sun goes down.”

Terry scrunched up his face. “Is there a special vampire version of chipmunks I don’t know about?”

“You get on my nerves!” You said and giggled. Terry smirked with you as you giggled and you slowly quieted down. You cleared your throat. “No, it’s just important. I do take my safety seriously. Maybe more so than most.”

Terry eyed you with those beautiful eyes of his before nodding. “Alright, I’ll take you,” he said.

“Wait, what? No, no, no, that’s not what I meant. I can get down myself,” you said.

“No one said you couldn’t. But the roads really can get slippery if you don’t know where to look. The snow doesn’t stick to the ground like it used to and it can make driving those twisting roads more dangerous.”

You put your hands on your hips and stepped closer, nothing but the narrow corner of the kitchen island between you. “I don’t need a babysitter, Terry,” you said.

Terry held up his hands. “I’m not a babysitter. I’m a handyman,” he said.

You pinched your lips together to keep from smiling. He was truly going to make you put him through the wall.

“I wouldn’t feel right letting you go down the mountain by yourself. Not that you’re not capable. But because the roads really are that dangerous. And I’d rather not have to come dig your ass out of a ditch,” he said.

“Ouch,” you said, picturing just that scenario. The roads seemed like a twisty maze, full of sharp corners and narrow lanes. Driving up when the roads were clear in the morning hadn’t been that much of a hassle but you weren’t too sure about going back down. It was why you tried to bring as much stuff with you as you could, to avoid that exact circumstance.

“Go get dressed,” he said, his voice deep and commanding.

You prickled. “Don’t tell me what to do,” you said. Did he hear the breathiness in your voice? Because holy hell. That voice needed to boss you around more often.

Terry lifted his sleeve to look at his watch. “Daylight’s wasting,” he said.

You scowled. “I’m getting dressed because I decided to and because I concede that I don’t know these roads that well. Not because you told me to,” you said.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, eyes dancing with mischief. Ugh. You bet he ran his mama ragged growing up.

The kettle clicked as it was done, the boiling water settling down. You poured a mug full and took it with you to the bedroom and sipped it while you got dressed.

You opted for a simple pair of jeans, boots, and your favorite purple hoodie. You didn’t know how Terry didn’t walk around with a jacket as well. Every bite of air you felt outside chilled you down to the bone.

Leaving your bedroom, Terry eyed you up and down before jerking his head for you to follow. You locked the door behind you and then followed Terry to his truck. Your combined footsteps crunched on the snow underfoot, leaving footprints that quickly disappeared in the gentle snowfall.

You looked up towards the sky, grinning at the overcast sky. Flurries floated down, landing on your cheeks, eyelashes, and lips. You licked away a snowflake that landed on you and looked towards Terry, smiling softly at you.

“You must think I’m silly,” you said.

“Not what I’m thinking,” he said. You stared but he didn’t say anything more. He just smirked and held open the passenger door for you. The truck was bigger up close and you had a hard time holding onto the door and climbing in.

“Here,” Terry said, gently sliding his hands around your waist. You looked over your shoulder at him. He was close enough to see how pretty and long his eyelashes were. It wasn’t fair that he was pretty down to the individual hairs on his lashes.

His big hands felt like heaven on your hips as he helped you lift into his truck. His hands slid from your waist and you missed the heat of it instantly. Terry cleared his throat and then closed the door.

You eyed him as he rounded the front of his truck, climbed in, and started the car. He turned the heater on full blast and before long, you were headed down the mountain. The type of road you were on was paved and everything, but every so often, you’d hit a patch of woods on the side of the road and there were guard rails to prevent you from toppling over.

Terry took the turns slowly, but expertly. Your eyes were drawn to his hands every time the steering wheel slipped through his fingers while he turned. He kept his nails trimmed and clean, causing you to bite your lip, thinking of him fingering you.

No, you stop that, you chastised yourself. He was not a piece of meat. But sweet fuck, the packaging was pretty.

“How’s the writing going?” Terry asked.

“Huh?” You asked. You heard him, you just needed more time to let your brain get off nasty mode. Though, who were you kidding? It stayed nasty.

Terry repeated his question. He took a long turn that caused you to lean against your seatbelt. It dug across your chest and you moved it to a more comfortable spot.

“Good. I think. I can never tell. But I’m still trying to figure out how the characters meet,” you said.

“It’s that important?” He asked.

You nodded, though he didn’t see because he was being a good driver. He kept his eyes faced forward, driving carefully down the road. Every so often, the woods would break and there would be someone’s property, full of horses or cows. You marveled at a large brown cow hanging out just because.

“The meet cute is one of the most important parts of the book. It sets the tone for the relationship,” you said.

“Yeah? How so?” He asked.

“Are you sure you want to hear about all this? You don’t have to be polite,” you said, giving him an easy out.

“I like listening to you,” he said.

Oh. You smiled, looking down at your hands in your lap. You launched into the nitty gritty of romance writing. The less glamorous side of it. It took you a long time to learn when to linger, when to skip ahead, and when to let the characters give into the chemistry. You weren’t always sure you pulled it off, but your sales were steady so you’d take it.

Terry listened the entire time, asking more and more questions to feed his curiosity. He still threw in teases about your voice, the subject matter, and your little smut buddies, your writing group that talked about sex all day long.

He pulled the truck into a plaza with a few different stores spread out. “You’re gonna tell me guys don’t talk about sex all day? Why’s it a problem when women do it?”

Terry pulled into an available parking spot and turned the car off. The chill from outside immediately crept in, forcing the warm air to evaporate. “Sure, but we don’t write it down or send porn to each other,” he said.

“We do not send porn!” You said. Liar, liar. You had sent a porn link to your group chat earlier to discuss the inspo for Wesley.

Terry gave you an incredulous look before getting out of the truck. Your heartbeat sped up as he walked around to your side. His hands would be on you again. You liked it. Perhaps too much, because when he opened the door, you jumped.

“You good?” He asked.

You nodded, not trusting your voice. Terry steadied you by the waist as you climbed out of his massive truck. When he set you on the ground, your hands lingered on his forearms. Realizing you were holding on, you hummed and stepped away with a smile.

You went shopping, picking up essentials for a quick emergency kit. Flashlight with extra batteries, bottled water, granola bars with a long shelf life, back up portable chargers for your phone, extra over the counter meds, first aid kit, whistle, Lysol wipes, hand sanitizer, paper soap, and matches.

Terry’s eyebrows rose with each new item you picked up, working off your memory of your home and work kits. So you liked to be prepared, so what. You were only mildly embarrassed as he walked with you down each aisle, adding in things you hadn’t thought of for snow weather. Extra thick socks, thermals, extra scarf and beanie. Just in case.

“Thank you, Terry, really,” you said as Terry helped put the items in the bed of his truck.

“You can thank me by swinging by the bar with me. I’m pretty hungry. You?” He asked.

You grinned. “Was this your plan all along?” You asked.

“Maybe,” he said and smirked. Ugh. He was too fucking pretty. It made you sick really. Sick with fucking lust. Maybe a drink was just what the doctor ordered.

“Fine. But you could have just asked, you know,” you said.

“I know.” After he helped you in the car, he made the short trip to the bar he told you about.

The parking lot was large but mostly empty. It was nearing the evening and the temperature dropped bit by bit, your breath escaping in clouds. Terry escorted you up the long wooden stairs towards the earthy bar.

Inside, the place was bigger than you expected with two distinct sections. On the right, there were dining tables set up for bigger groups. Some of those tables were filled up and there were TVs stationed around turned to various games.

Terry said hello to the staff as he escorted you to the left, where the main bar was set up. The tables on this side sat higher off the ground and it had bar stools pushed close to the table. There was a door that led out onto a patio for outside dining but no one sat outside at the moment.

Terry pulled out a bar stool for you and helped you climb on. He effortlessly sat, his long legs having no trouble touching the ground. Bastard.

The bartender, introduced as Adam, came around to take your drink orders. “I am a cider girlie. What’s good?” You asked Adam.

Adam stroked his silky salt and pepper beard and looked behind him. “We got a few things. How you feel about blueberry?”

“Blueberry cider?” You asked.

Adam grinned. “If you don’t like it, it’s on the house,” he said. Adam leaned forward on the bar top and you smiled back. Oh, he was adorable.

Terry cleared his throat. “How’s Melissa?” Terry asked, bringing a beer to his lips and sipping.

Adam’s smile didn’t waver. “She left me. I’m all alone in my modest, but spacious house,” Adam said, never taking his eyes from you.

You giggled and waved him off. “Oh stop!” You said.

“With a beautiful woman like you, how can I?” Adam asked.

Terry made a sound that sounded suspiciously like a growl. You side eyed him as he shared a glance with Adam. Adam knocked on the bar top with a grin and then moved away to grab you a blueberry cider. He popped the top for you and waited for you to take a sip.

It was…actually delicious. You nodded. “Okay, not bad, Adam,” you said.

Adam’s permanent grin spread wider. “I aim to please,” he said.

You hid your giggle behind your hand and shook your head. “Did Melissa really leave you?” You asked.

Adam groaned and looked at Terry. “Thanks, T. Yes, she really did. But only to visit her parents. I still needed to work,” Adam said.

“Aw, why’d you get stuck with holiday duty? You piss off the boss?”

“He is the boss,” Terry grumbled.

You smiled at him. These two. “I bet ya’ll get into so much trouble together,” you said.

“Too much. And it was always Terry’s idea,” Adam said.

“Fuck outta here,” Terry said and chuckled. Adam launched into a story about growing up with Terry, running around like the latch key kids they were. Adam had dared Terry to jump off a rock formation near a creek which got both their asses handed to them by Terry’s mama.

You laughed through the story, Adam an amazing storyteller. Terry filled in details grudgingly, pulled from him the more Adam kept going.

Your food arrived in the middle of Adam speaking. You ordered tiger sauce wings and the chicken was huge. It came with fries and you immediately dug in, your hunger taking over something vicious.

Adam finally left you two alone as Adam had to tend to more and more people as the night dragged on.

“Your friend is funny,” you said.

Terry grunted. “But he doesn’t get on your nerves?” He asked.

“Nope. Guess you bring it out of me,” you said.

Terry rolled his eyes but dug into his own steak and potatoes. You both lobbed questions back and forth, learning more about each other now than over the two weeks he fixed minor things around the rental.

You downed cider after cider, getting lost in the way Terry told stories. He had a slower approach than Adam, but he was no less engaging. With that voice of his, he set the scene perfectly as a narrator.

The cider warmed you from the inside out, making your face flush with heat. But it was Terry’s voice that had something else flushing as well. Your pussy fluttered every time he licked the corner of his mouth while he spoke.

It ached every time you spoke and his focus was completely on you. He didn’t blink away, he didn’t look down, he didn’t interrupt. It only highlighted how much you craved that. Your family and friends only had so much patience for you before they were off, dominating the conversation in ways you couldn’t actively participate in. It felt more like they just wanted someone to talk at, not with.

Not the case with Terry. He included you in the conversation, stretching it, and flowed effortlessly from one topic to the next. There was rarely a lull in your conversation and your heads dipped closer and closer together the more you spoke.

The crisp apple and blueberry taste coated your tongue but also loosened your lips. “I see it all so clearly in my head, but then I get too much in my head, and it all comes crashing down. I can’t connect with this one for some reason,” you said.

Terry had asked you more about novel writing, the concept completely foreign to him. He confessed that he didn’t think that much effort went into it. Maybe not for others. But for you, it felt like you agonized over every single word. Were you true to the characters? Did anything make sense? Would it hit for others like it hit for you?

“Why’s it not connecting for you?” Terry sipped his second beer, as sober as a judge. While you felt too relaxed.

You sighed and looked away from him, peeling the label off of the bottle with your nail. “No offense, but men. I usually have a man to play with while writing to keep the inspiration going but sex-only arrangements only work if the guy initiates it. If I tell them I don’t want anything more, that’s when they get in their feelings,” you said with a shiver.

Terry’s grin spread slowly across his lips, revealing a neat row of teeth. Oh, my. He was damn delicious. “So you treat them like a ho and they get mad?”

“Yes!” You tapped his shoulder. Finally, a man who got you. “Like ugh, I know what I want and it’s not these dudes I find. I won’t settle for anything less than what I write about on the daily. So no, I don’t want to date, a girl just wants to get fucked, you know? No talking, no giggling, just work me over like a screen door in a hurricane and then get the fuck out,” you said. You nodded your head to emphasize your point.

You sighed deeply and smiled at Terry, your eyes drooping. You were a little tipsy. Terry lifted an eyebrow and then your words echoed in your mind. Your jaw dropped. Oh god. You were mortified.

“I-I am so sorry. That was so rude,” you said.

Terry lifted his fingers in a small wave. “Naw, you’re good,” he said.

“No, wow. That was inappropriate. I’m sorry. I-I’m sorry. We should go, please,” you said.

Terry turned towards you on the bar stool. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. I’m the one that asked, chipmunk,” he said.

Your cheeks were still on fire. It was one thing to talk like this with your girlfriends or your sister, or even your writing group. That was normal. But you talked with Terry as if you’d known him forever. It took you one business year to make friends, putting them through the gauntlet to see if they’d actually stick around. More than that to let your freak flag fly.

“If you truly want to go, we will. But I promise, we’re cool. You don’t have to censor yourself around me,” he said.

And somehow, that permission made your shoulders droop from around your ears. You nodded, taking a sip of water. You didn’t have to apologize for being true to yourself. And it was like you crossed some invisible social boundary with Terry. Conversation flowed more smoothly, your heads dipped closer together, and your shoulders brushed against each other.

“So what are you looking for then? If not these dudes you meet,” he said.

You spent the rest of the night diving into past dating history and what you looked for in a partner. Terry shared what he liked as well. Someone that laughed at his world-stopping jokes, someone kind, and someone goofy.

Instantly, you compared yourself to the small list of women he’d been with. The traits he looked for. Did you fit the bill? Were you someone he could shove through the mattress?

It seemed wild to think about that even though you already swore him off. It wasn’t that you weren’t interested. You were too interested. Too aware. Too conscious of him. Of the way he moved, talked, or laughed. You anticipated what would make him smile, what would make him groan, or what would make him roll his eyes.

He was hands down the only man that could make you lose your marbles and you hadn’t even taken him to bed. The thought filled you with so much dread and fear, that you had to push him away to stay sane. You had to keep him firmly on the other side of the brain before your inner romantic started planning your wedding in your mind.

You could easily fall for Terry Richmond. And you weren’t sure if you were strong enough to survive if he couldn’t. Not in the way you wanted. Not in the way you craved. Not in the way you wrote about, book after book, story after story, chasing a phantom man in your mind that loved you in the way you hungered for.

Adam called last call and gave Terry the sober vibe check. Which consisted of Terry holding his middle finger to nose while standing on one leg for a minute. You laughed at the sight, instantly taking a picture because there was no chance in hell you wanted to forget the look on his face.

He flipped you the bird while he settled with Adam and then escorted you outside. The wind was bitter, biting through your jacket and hoodie. Terry stepped closer to you, taking the brunt of it as the wind came from his direction.

You joked on the way to his truck, nudging him every so often as you walked. The liquor loosened you both up, navigating the newfound familiarity together. Whether it was by intention or by accident, the touches were not unwelcome.

At his car, you leaned against the truck. You nudged your chin towards the bar. “It’s a great place. I see why you wanted to show it to me,” you said.

He leaned a hand against the car, blocking most of the wind. But it had the added benefit of bringing him warmth closer. He smelled delicious like the outside air he belonged to. Like pine needles and cinnamon.

“Figured you might. Did it help with your book?” He asked.

You gasped. “Was that the goal?” You asked.

He shrugged. “A little. I figured you were too in your head,” he said.

“You think you know me, Terry Richmond,” you said and tapped his chest. He rocked back on his heels as if it actually hurt him and you rolled your eyes.

“No. But I’m learning to,” he said.

You giggled nervously as you blinked up at him. Light from the signs on the bar barely reached, but it highlighted him from behind. Light cut across his jaw and cheek and made his lashes glow at the tip.

Terry stepped closer, giving you all the room to step away or block him. But that was the last thing your body wanted. You stayed put, sliding your hands against his broad chest. Your fingers curled around the fabric and he sighed.

He brought his face closer to yours and inhaled. You hummed just as his lips pressed against yours. There was nothing hurried about it. Nothing filthy or salacious. But it warmed you from the tip of your toes to the top of your head.

Terry drew back and looked you in the eyes. You didn’t need to say anything. Didn’t need to share anything. You supposed kissing him was inevitable. Fated.

Terry tucked you into his truck and his hands lingered, reluctantly letting you go only because you were seated and there was nothing to help with anymore. You smiled at him and he finally closed the door. It gave you enough time to let loose the breath you held as he walked around.

He drove carefully back up the mountain. Snow had stuck to the road in some areas, so Terry went extra slow to be careful. If it weren’t for his huge lights, you wouldn’t be able to see a got damn thing.

It was pitch black outside, as if the world had disappeared during your ascent. As soon as the headlights passed on to something else, the darkness encroached and gobbled it back up. It was trippy. Yet strangely called to your inner emo.

The ride was mostly silent, soft music playing on the radio too low for you to pick up words. Terry found your rental without a hitch and came around to let you out of his truck. He walked with you to the front door and hovered outside of it while you stepped in.

You put your head on the door, swinging back and forth. In a minute, Terry would have to fix that one too. You giggled at your joke and Terry smirked.

“What’s so funny, chipmunk?” He asked.

You told him and Terry groaned and shook his head. “That was a terrible joke,” he said.

“What! No it wasn’t!” You squeaked with your outrage, sputtering for the right words to defend yourself. You could call your jokes bad, he couldn’t. You didn’t know why just yet, but he couldn’t.

“Was to,” he said and stepped closer. Terry’s eyes drooped as he leaned his shoulder against the door frame. He took up the majority of it, so large and imposing. Yet his energy was nothing but peaceful and quiet, setting you at ease in a way only a thorough cleaning could achieve.

“Was not,” you said, holding your ground. You wanted to invite him in. Wanted to go ahead and explore what he started.

Terry sighed and dug his hands in his hoodie pocket. “Goodnight, chipmunk,” he said.

Oh. You matched his sigh and rolled your eyes. “Good night, Terry,” you said. You’d have to think of a good nickname for him. Like Big Bird…Clifford…whenever it came to you, you were gonna hit him with it.

Terry stepped back and waited while you closed and locked the door. You heard his boots travel down the steps and into his awaiting truck.

You leaned your back against the cold door and sighed once more. If you were a chipmunk, then the only tree you wanted to climb was him.

“Girl,” you said, drawing the word out.

“Girl, what?” Your best friend, Whitley, asked.

“This motherfucker out here chopping wood on Christmas Eve,” you said. Terry stopped by a week later, finally coming around to chop more wood for the fireplace. You had forgotten all about it, feeling better now that you had an upgraded emergency kit.

But then Terry took off his hoodie, revealing a silver blue T-shirt that really brought out the blue in his eyes. He blamed the storm, criticizing you for not paying more attention to the weather channel.

Um, and miss bingeing Alex Cross for the umpteenth time? Yeah, no thanks. You called him an old man while he grinned and went outside, round to the side. There was a tree stump there and a small pile of chopped firewood.

Terry took the larger, whole pieces and went to work. Some he cracked in one go, his powerful muscles bunching and contracting with the effort. The axe was decisive, snapping and echoing in the surrounding woods.

Terry used the hem of his shirt to wipe the sweat from his brow and you got a front row seat to his abs.

You moaned into the phone and Whitley grunted. “Girl, uh uh. Put me on video or something. You can’t be moaning like that and I don’t get to see too.”

Fair, she was right. You hurried and put her on video, tilting the phone to look at him through the window. Though he faced forward, he rarely looked up while he worked on the firewood as if it stole something from him.

You bit your lip, needing that same focus while he fucked you stupid. You wanted to be fucked so hard that you forgot your ABCs.

“Oh damn,” Whitley said, moaning with you.

Lord, he was fine. This so wasn’t fair. Not even in the slightest. “And you ain’t rode that big dawg yet?” Whitley asked.

“Girl, no. Look at him. He would snap my ass in half and then eat my heart on his way out,” you said.

Terry took a break, lodging the axe in the tree stump. He wiped his forehead with his shirt once more and you and Whitley sighed in appreciation. Wisps of his breath clouded in the air, sunlight shining brightly on Terry.

“I say this with all the love in my heart. You stupid ho, go ride that man!” Whitley yelled into the phone. Since she was on speaker, you ducked in case Terry looked towards you. He didn’t need to see you being a creeper.

When you deemed it safe, you slowly stood back up. Terry stretched his thick biceps, causing his shirt to ride up. His belly peeked from underneath, giving you a glimpse of his belly button. You felt no better than an 18th century man but your core was in full agreement. Your clit throbbed, painfully. His tattoos poked out from beneath his short sleeves and you wondered what the story was behind each one.

“Now what if he looked over here? Now we both looking stupid ‘cause you don’t know how to shut up,” you said.

Whitley giggled and sighed. Terry picked up the axe and continued chopping. He leaned forward, grabbing a whole piece, and then placed it on the stump. He hefted the axe above his head and let it fall with force behind it, splitting it in two.

“Got damn. Maybe I need to visit you up there, friend,” Whitley teased.

“Um, no,” you said.

Whitley giggled. “Then if that’s your man, go get him!”

You grumbled to her, listing off reasons why you absolutely shouldn’t. But night after night, little Laz Alonso wasn’t cutting it. Ever since the bar, ever since the kiss, you hadn’t been able to keep him from your mind.

It was his face that you stroked yourself too. His voice that you moaned to. His eyes that set you off but it was empty. Sure it felt good, but you needed more. You needed the heft of a man on top of you, splitting you open, talking nasty in ya ear.

Spicy audios and a vibrator just didn’t have the same effect. Not when you wanted some body heat. When you wanted the rough scratch of a beard on your skin. Fingers buried to the knuckle.

“What am I gonna do when he get me addicted to that monster in his pants and I can’t have no more? You really want me out here like a crackhead, begging for dick? You wanna come bail me out of jail because I was banging on his door at 3am?” You asked.

Whitley howled with laughter as you kept going, describing all the ways Terry would have you acting out of character. And you wouldn’t feel a lick of shame about it. You’d stand outside buck ass nekkid in the cold, brutal winter if it meant you’d get to hop on it again.

“Stop, my stomach hurt! Stop it!” Whitley yelled in between pulls of air.

You finally giggled with her, eyes still on Terry. The pile of wood next to him grew more and more and you wondered how long he expected this storm to last? Or if he had that little faith in the central heating.

Terry glanced towards the house and you ducked, heart in your throat. “I think he saw me,” you whispered.

Whitley giggled and shook her head. “How you gonna explain that one?” She asked.

“I’ll tell if you if works,” you said. You hung up with her and then grabbed two bottles of water from the pantry.

You threw on your hoodie and jacket, leaving the house. You slid-walked towards the side of the house, the snow giving way and making you earn it. You huffed as you made it around the side.

Terry stopped chopping and watched you struggle. He lodged the axe into the stump and then placed his hands on his narrow hips. The silver blue T-shirt clung to his body with sweat. If he were to wring it out, you’d bet it’d fill a bucket.

When you got closer, Terry lifted an eyebrow. “You know chipmunks s’posed to hibernate in the winter,” he said.

“Oh shut up,” you said, shaking your head. “I saw you struggling so I decided to come give you the break you needed.”

You handed him the bottle of water and then unscrewed your own. “Saw me struggling, huh,” he said, his voice deeper than normal. Or were you imagining it? Fuck. You were losing touch with reality now.

His eyes slanted towards you as he tilted his head back and gulped down the bottle of water. He didn’t stop for a breath. He kept going, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the action. His bicep could probably crush steel. Veins ran down the length of his arm and saliva pooled in your mouth.

“That’s a lot of firewood,” you said, your voice unnaturally rough. You cleared your throat and drank your own water.

You finally figured out how Wesley and Gabrielle meet so the rest of Act 1 flew from your fingers. You made it to the part where they have sex for the first time and Gabrielle would discover that Wesley was an investigator.

You’d had sex on the brain all day. A little obsessively so considering it was Christmas Eve. So Terry being out here, looking like that and chopping wood like that... It was like a cosmic nudge in the pants to ride him ‘till the cows came home. Your resolve weakened the more you spent in his presence. This was why you needed to stop listening to Whitley’s ass.

“Want to make sure you’re prepared,” he said, his accent seeping through his words.

You drank more of your water, shivering as a brutal wind kicked up. “Oh, that’s cold,” you said. Was that the universe telling you to take your ass in the house? Surely, it would be on your side, telling you to keep your eye on the prize and not fuck the incredibly hot handyman.

The wind blew again, the cold light of the sun disappearing all together. You looked upwards. Clouds rolled across the sky as the temperature dropped ten degrees. “Fuck,” you shivered, rubbing your arms.

Terry scowled. “The storm’s early. Go get inside,” he said.

Overhead, trees swayed violently with the gathering wind. “What about the firewood?” You asked.

“I got it,” he said. He waved for you to go ahead of him but you didn’t want to just leave him to do all the work. He moved carefully, heading to the side of the house and grabbed a blue tarp. He jogged to the stump and loaded the tarp with firewood. “Go get inside!”

“It’ll be faster if I help,” you called back over the wind.

You ran towards the stack, helping him load it with the firewood he chopped. He scowled but he couldn’t argue with you once you started. In no time, you had it loaded with as much firewood as he could move.

He pushed you towards the house, pulling on the tarp and dragged it across the snow. Snow flurries kicked up and swirled around you as you ran-slid towards the front door. Terry was hot on your heels, huffing, clouds of breath in front of him.

You held onto the railing as you jogged up the steps, already knowing Terry wouldn’t want you to help with the wood. He gathered up all four corners and lifted with his knees, carrying the tarp up the stairs like it was nothing.

You opened the door, the wind doing most of the work. The door banged against the wall and Terry stomped in after and dropped the firewood. “Close the door,” he said and went back outside.

“Wait!” You called after him. He kept walking so you did as he said, closing the door behind him. You had to push against the wind but you finally managed to close it. You looked outside of the window beside the door.

The snow blew around hard and fast, obscuring visibility minute by minute. You could barely make out Terry’s outline as he ran to his truck and opened the bed. He pulled out a bag and then closed the bed of the truck, locking it behind him. He jogged towards the front door, holding his bare arm up as he did so.

A second later, he opened the door, entered, and then closed it behind him. He shook himself out, flinging snow across the entrance. “I’ll clean that up,” he said. Water clung to his scruffy beard and plastered his shirt to his body. His nipples poked out and you dragged your eyes away.

“You need to get in the shower, now,” you said.

“What?” Terry asked and his eyes went wide.

“The last thing you want to do is get sick. Go warm your body up in the shower. I’ll throw your clothes in the dryer,” you said. Your words sunk in a second later and then you giggled. “I mean, leave your clothes outside the door, obviously.”

Terry smirked, his eyes crinkling in the corners. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you,” he said. He nodded towards the fireplace. “You know how to start that? We should conserve power tonight, just in case.”

“I agree. But no, still haven’t learned how to start it. You go get in the shower, the heater will be fine for now,” you said.

Terry looked like he wanted to argue, pinching his lips together. But then he shook his head and took off towards the bathroom. He peeled off his shirt as he went and you bit your lip.

Sweet fuck, that was not what you meant! Got damn. Your eyes widened as you looked at the dip in his back. The expanse of shoulders. The tattoo on the back of his right arm. Sweet fuck, almighty.

Terry looked back at you as he went into the bathroom. He ducked to enter and then shut the door behind him. He caught you staring. He so, so caught you staring. A beat later, he opened the door and tossed out his shirt, jeans, and socks. Not his underwear though. Bastard.

You put the items in the dryer and let it run for a cycle. You closed the closet doors on the other side of the kitchen and then started up a kettle. Your fingers tapped on the countertop waiting for the water to finish.

All the while, the shower was loud through the walls. On the other side of it, Terry was showering. He was naked. He was running soap all over that massive, long body. Your panties grew so damp, you wondered if you had enough time to dry them before he got out of the shower.

You needed all the strength you could muster. Because right now, you couldn’t remember a single fucking reason why you couldn’t hop on Terry’s dick. Really, what was the price of heartbreak? A wild ride in the sack? It just may be worth it for Terry Richmond.

The shower turned off just as the kettle clicked off beside you. You jumped and then closed your eyes. You were an adult. You could keep yourself in check.

You poured some tea for yourself but you weren’t sure what he drank. You didn’t like beer so you didn’t have any in the house. You weren’t expecting any visitors.

Wind blew against the window making you jump once more. You were too hyperaware. Too attune with every little noise or screech.

You retrieved his clothes from the dryer and then knocked on the door. Terry opened it a crack and you made sure to keep your eyes on his face. Nowhere south. “Clothes,” you said.

“Thanks,” he said. He opened the door wider and grabbed his clothes from you. His fingers grazed yours and you gasped. He was so soft and warm. Steam poured out the room, fanning across your face. He smelled like your soap and you bit back a moan.

“Yup,” you squeaked and then left him to it. Tea, tea, all you needed was some tea. Some sleepytime tea to do the trick. But you weren’t sure how you were going to sleep with a storm raging outside.

You hated to admit it but your winter getaway turned out to be anything but idyllic. And you had a teensy, smallish, not even worth mentioning fear of storms. It was the bigness of it. The fact that it made you feel so tiny, so insignificant, so aware of your mortality. That nature was the foremost authority and you lived and breathed by its good graces.

It was an annoying feeling to you as a writer. You created entire worlds at whim. Played with characters like dolls. But you held no such power in real life.

Terry left the bathroom, his footfalls softer now that he wasn’t wearing boots. Freshly dressed in his warm clothes, he looked younger without his beanie. He sported a mini, curled afro atop his head. It gave him a mountain man sort of look, like he would be at home out there in the woods.

“Thanks,” he said.

You nodded. “I wasn’t sure if you were into tea,” you said.

Terry waved you off. “Water is fine,” he said. He moved over towards the living room and opened the tarp on the floor. He knelt on one leg as he worked on stoking a fire to life. The flames gathered traction, flicking orange and yellow light across his features.

You rolled the bag of tea around a spoon to squeeze excess water out. Then you doctored it how you liked, adding in cold water. You grabbed a bottle of water and headed to the living room as Terry finished with the fireplace.

Terry accepted the bottle, drinking down half of it while he turned off the main heater and sat on the other side of the couch.

“Looks like we’re having a sleepover. Did you plan this too?” You asked.

“If I were powerful enough to control the weather, I’d use it for more nefarious purposes,” Terry said.

“Like what?” You asked, your curiosity piqued.

Terry chuckled. “And give up my evil plan? Naw. I ain’t grow up on a chicken farm,” he said.

You laughed and shook your head. “What?” You asked, chuckling more.

Terry laughed with you. “Chicken Run?” He asked.

“Shut up, you ain’t seen that movie,” you said.

Terry scoffed. “Bet,” he said.

“What’s the young rooster’s name?” You asked.

“Rocky, try again,” he said.

You squinted at him as you thought of your next question. Something only a true fan would know. “Who was the first chicken to go through Mrs. Tweedy’s chicken pie machine?” You asked.

Terry sucked in a breath and widened his eyes. “Okay, tough. But it was Ginger,” he said.

You looked at him and raised your eyebrows, trying to cast doubt on his answer. He matched your stare, smirk on his lips, and didn’t fold.

“Okay, fine, you’re right,” you huffed.

Terry laughed and drank the rest of his bottled water. You fell into a comfortable silence, both lost in your thoughts. “I haven’t seen Chicken Run in a while,” Terry said.

“Me neither. We should see if it’s streaming,” you said. You turned on the TV and snuggled under your inside throw blanket. With the heat blowing across your legs, you felt warmer than the heater could ever achieve.

Before long, you were both laughing at the shenanigans of the claymation movie. You both tossed out quotes, going back and forth about things you noticed in the movie.

One movie turned to two, throwing on How the Grinch Stole Christmas. It was among your favorite Christmas movies and a perfect distraction against the raging storm outside. The wind knocked harshly against the window every so often, causing your eyes to dart to it and your heart rate to speed up. You hated being such a baby sometimes.

But, giving yourself grace, storms really could be scary. If it knocked the power out, it could also knock over trees into the house or onto someone’s car. Storms were devastating and of course you’d find them a bit scary.

Terry scooted closer. “You afraid of storms?” He asked. His voice was like butter melting over a freshly baked biscuit. You hummed and decided to be honest.

“There’s so many things that could happen in a storm,” you told him.

He nodded. “I got something to help with that,” he said.

You turned to him and hummed for him to respond. He scooted closer on the couch, close enough for your shoulder to lean on his. You giggled at his solution. “Stop hugging the throw too,” he murmured and you giggled.

“This helps storms, huh?”

Terry nodded. “Hell yeah. Feel better?”

You pinched your lips together but went on and nodded. “It has its merits.”

As you worked on Wesley and Gabrielle’s relationship, you couldn’t help picturing how Terry would be in a relationship. Would he be the perfect boyfriend? Would he be as annoying as he usually was, always poking at you?

“Before we get comfortable, we should grab some drinks. I only have tequila or wine,” you said.

“I’ll take the tequila,” he said, making a face. You laughed and rolled your eyes at him. You got up and went to the kitchen, grabbing your favorite tequila and two shot glasses. You turned off the kitchen light on your way back, bathing the living room in darkness. The flames in the fireplace flickered across the wall, still pumping out delicious heat.

You poured a shot for each of you, clinked the glasses, and then drank. During the movie, you talked and joked, also quoting this movie back and forth. Terry’s laugh was so adorable and infectious. Was there anything on this man that didn’t scramble your brain?

He breathed and you were ready to drop your panties and beg for his dick. You were not above begging. But your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth. You wanted it too badly but you wrestled with your brain. You shouldn’t but you oh so wanted to.

“Can I confess something?” Terry asked.

You turned your head to him. You had managed to curl into his side, soaking in the heat of his body. You felt every rise and fall of his chest. You licked your lips and Terry’s eyes drooped down.

“What is it, Terry?” You asked.

Terry licked his own lips and you couldn’t resist following the movement with your eyes. His lips were so big, so juicy.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about our kiss,” he said. His voice was so soft, so velvety, that your shoulders dropped and you leaned in.

“Me neither,” you said. You shook your head. The kiss invaded all of your senses, leading to distraction even when Terry wasn’t there. All week, you caught yourself veering off to replay the kiss over and over again.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you since the moment you threatened me with a poker,” he said and smiled.

Your chest rose and fell in waves, processing what he was saying. “Don’t play with me, Terry Richmond,” you said. You just couldn’t stand it if he were.

“When you said what you said at the bar, I wondered what kind of man you’d take to bed. And then I started thinking that I wanted to be the only one in your bed,” he said.

Your mouth dropped open. It’s not that you didn’t know you were gorgeous. It’s not that you didn’t think you could pull someone like Terry. It was the fact that he said it so plainly. So openly. So clearly for your brain to not misinterpret his words. You didn’t have to guess with him. And that was one of the sexiest things ever.

You blinked a few times. “I–”

“And then I started hoping that you’d let me audition,” he said.

“Audition?” You asked. What the hell was he on about?

Terry grinned and then leaned closer, bringing his large hand to cup your face. His thumb stroked across your cheek. Your eyes slowly blinked closed, your skin tingling where he stroked. His warm breath fanned across your face, smelling faintly like tequila.

He rubbed his lips against yours but it wasn’t a full kiss. And that made you want it more. You wanted his lips on yours. You would simply die without it.

“Let me show off my skills. If I do well, you can use me as inspiration for your latest book,” he said.

You giggled, biting the inside of your cheek. “And what do you get out of the arrangement?” You asked.

“You,” he said.

You gasped, staring into his eyes. The low light made his features stand out more. It made his expressions more severe, more striking. You were at a loss for words. This man handed over everything you wanted on a silver platter.

You were so nervous to accept. You had been let down in so many ways by so many men. You had reached a point where you weren’t actively looking for a relationship. You didn’t need some raggedy boy in your phone.

But Terry was a man. A huge, perfect, wonderful man who got on your last fucking nerve. He always had something smart to say or some new quip to lob at you. But he was also thoughtful. Kind. Funny. Sexy as fucking sin.

“Are you sure? What if you don’t pass?” You asked.

“Then I’d like to keep trying until you tell me to leave,” he said. He licked your lips and you sighed, ending on a moan.

“Okay, what will you do for your audition?” You asked. The tequila traveled straight south, making your pussy throb. Your inner thighs tingled even as your breathing increased.

Terry smirked. He finally crashed his lips to yours, kissing you harshly, brutally. Like he had merely been caged before and you finally set him free. You brought your hands up to his neck, pulling him closer.

Your moans combined and danced as you leaned closer, pushed harder, kissed back just as fiercely as he did.

His hands moved underneath your shirt, hands wrapped around your sides, gripping onto your meaty flesh. You moaned, arching your back into him. Terry pulled you closer, made you straddle him.

An impressive bulge rubbed against your core and you moaned, closing your eyes. Fuck, you were overstimulated already and nothing even happened yet. You knew he had a monster in his pants. You just knew it.

You made out with Terry like a horny teenager, clashing teeth and biting at each other’s lips. You grinded in his lap, rubbing yourself against him. He groaned, hands lowering to cup your ass. He took two big scoops and squeezed hard, causing you to squeak.

“O-Oh fuck,” you moaned. The pain hurt so good. He kneaded your ass and you dropped your forehead to his shoulder. You moaned low, breathing harshly through your nose.

“You are so fucking beatiful,” he murmured against your temple.

“Terry, fuck, I’ve wanted you so bad,” you moaned.

“Why didn’t you say?” He asked.

You shook your head. You couldn’t speak. Didn’t want to speak. Your body moved on its own accord, rubbing against his hot erection.

Terry moved one of his hands to grip your chin and force you to look at him. “Why?” He demanded.

“You could break me. And that scares me,” you whispered.

“How do you think I feel?” He asked. “You could rip me apart.”

You crashed your lips to his, scratched at the nape of his neck. He returned his hand to your ass to squeeze, knead, and mold with his large hands. You moaned into his mouth, needing more friction.

Terry grabbed you by the waist and pulled you off of him. He made quick work of your jeans, pulled them down your legs, and off in one quick snap. You squealed with laughter, at the physicality of him, yet he still remained sweet and gentle.

Terry peeled your panties from your body and he groaned. “Fuck, you’re so wet,” he whispered, his voice one of awe. He slipped your panties off as well, biting your thighs as he pulled, and tossed it over his shoulder.

Your pussy throbbed looking at the way he stared at the heart of you. The smell of your arousal permeated the air and you moaned, smelling how turned on you were. He pushed at your thighs until they rested against your stomach.

He blew his breath across your pussy gently. “Oh, shit,” you twitched, hand reaching down to cling to his afro.

Terry groaned and blew once more, lowering his face until he was close enough to lick you from entrance to clit and back again. Your back bucked off of the couch, grinding into his face.

Terry moaned and wrapped his thick lips around your clit. He suckled sloppily, licking you like a dog with its favorite toy. “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,” you moaned, your stomach caving in and your eyes rolling back.

His tongue was the sweetest torture of pleasure against your pussy. His drool mixed with your essence, causing his sloppy eating to echo in the living room. “Fuck, that pussy good,” he sputtered against your sopping wet pussy.

“Oh fuck!” You screamed, your orgasm tearing through you too fast for you to comprehend. You flopped on the couch as your body shook and twisted with pleasure. Terry kept eating, slurping up the latest wave of essence on his tongue.

His beard grew more wet, sliding against your skin. It tickled and you wiggled, trying to move. Terry locked his arms around your thighs, shoving his face further into your pussy. His nose tickled the top of your mound and you groaned and moaned, loving the attention but unable to stand the tickling.

“Hmmmm,” he moaned, shaking his head. His tongue flicked across your clit without mercy, suckling on the swollen nub.

“Shit! Shit! Wait! Fuck!” You panted. You were out of breath, hardly able to make any sounds as Terry continued to eat you like a starving man to bread. Your stomach caved in once more, your lungs refusing to work any longer.

You pushed at his forehead but he kept going. Your eyes rolled backwards, your thighs clenched around his head as another orgasm tore through you, yanking your soul around like a ping pong ball.

Your pussy clenched and unclenched, wanting attention too. “Fuck me, fuck me,” you begged. You loved that he was a munch, Loved, loved it. But fuck you needed to be filled up. You needed to feel him deep in it.

“Not done yet,” Terry said. He came up for air, his face shiny with your juices. He licked his lips and closed his eyes, savoring it. When he opened it again, he narrowed his eyes. “Show me those pretty chocolate nipples.”

Your belly flipped painfully. Pussy throbbed. You lifted your shirt slowly, giving him a slight tease. Your overheated skin tingled with awareness as the cotton shifted across your body.

You revealed your titties and Terry groaned and rolled his hips into the bed. He winked at you. “Play with them while I eat,” he said. He returned to lapping at your pussy and your thighs squeezed around his face.

You were too sensitive. You jerked with every flick, every suck, and every glide of his lips. Your thighs shook with passion, tingled, and tensed. But you managed to pinch and roll your nipples, squeezing in time with his licks. “Please, please, Terry, fuck! I can’t!”

He pushed two fingers inside to pump in and out of your entrance. He wrapped his lips around your clit and used some kind of devil, voodoo magic to create a sucking vortex that had you seeing an entire galaxy behind your eyelids. Your mind flashed with dense clouds of pinks, violets, fiery oranges, and the softest greens.

You lost all ability to speak as another orgasm was wrung from you. You bowed forward, pushing his head into your clit as you came and came with howls and screams loud enough to wake the dead.

White and black spots danced in your vision as you suffered through aftershocks, ribbons of pleasure causing your nerves to go haywire. “Fuck, fuck,” you twitched.

You didn’t have the words nor the presence of mind to process what the hell just happened. You were spent. Put out. Dangle you on the clothesline to air out because you were out of it.

Terry came up for air with a growl, kissing your inner thighs, then your stomach, then climbed up your body to capture your lips with his own. He smeared your essence all over your face and you locked tongues with him eagerly.

You tasted too good on his tongue. Smelled too good on his lips. “Did I pass? I get the job?” Terry asked in between kissing you stupid.

You nodded and licked your lips, tasting more of yourself. “You got it, you got it,” you panted.

“I don’t have a condom, but–”

“I’m clean and on the pill,” you said. You kept up with that shit religiously, setting an alarm and everything. You were too chicken to try any other methods.

“I swear I’m clean,” he said, going back to kissing your lips. You moaned, and rubbed against his body.

“Fuck me,” you whined.

Terry chuckled. “Keep begging, chipmunk,” he groaned. He managed to continue kissing you while he ditched his jeans and underwear. His jeans dropped to the floor with a loud flop. His shirt went next, his muscles bunching as he lifted it off of him.

He removed your shirt as well, hands coming around to grab your titties. He pushed them together, lowering his mouth to suck on both nipples at the same time. You jerked and whined, grinding on the couch.

“Please, Terry, fuck me. Fuck me, I need it. I need your big dick to split me open,” you begged.

Terry groaned and moved his right hand between you. He rubbed his dick up and down your folds, gathering up all the slick he could to coat his dick. He pushed into your entrance and your pussy started talking.

“Mmm, growl at me,” he moaned. “Fuck.”

He dipped the head of his dick in and out of you, slowly, your pussy doing more than growling as he toyed with your aching hole. You cried every time his tip stretched you. He was easily the biggest you’d ever taken.

Terry put his left hand on your chest and moved his right hand up to your clit. This thumb pressed on your clit and a strangled noise burst from your throat. “I need you inside me,” you whined. “Please, please.” Your eyes watered.

You were going to lose your mind in a minute. You would dissolve into a puddle of goo or start barking like a dog if he teased you any more.

Terry moved his thumb in circles around your clit, causing you to sputter and moan, completely lost to the sensation. “Eyes on me,” he commanded.

Your eyes snapped open to him. To the softest gray and darkest blue of his eyes. His eyebrows curved in a severe arch. The same focus he had while chopping wood, he brought to killing you slowly from the inside out.

His thumb made your pussy relax enough for him to sink in deeper, further, aided by the fresh slick leaking out of you. If it weren’t for the throw blanket, you were sure you’d have to buy Mr. Omar a brand new couch.

“So wet. Fuck, you’re gripping my shit tough,” he moaned. He flicked his thumb harder.

You sniffled, tears running down your cheeks. “Please, I can’t. I can’t no more!” You yelled.

Terry leaned down, pressing his lips to yours. You moaned and played with his thick tongue, licked his juicy lips, and gently bit his bottom lip. He moaned. “I say when you’re done,” he said.

“Oh fuck,” you said as you lost all control over your body. Terry pushed all the way down to the hilt with a guttural groan. Veins popped out of his neck as he used you to hold some of his weight.

His dick throbbed, pulsed in time with his own heartbeat inside you. His dick pushed up against your sweet spot and before long, you were cumming on his dick.

“Yes, yes, cream this dick. Show me you need that shit,” he moaned. He pulled back until he was almost out and then he shoved back in. He increased his strokes the more he did it, your pussy growling on his dick, while he rolled his hips.

Your nails scratched at his chest as he moved his hands to either side of your stomach. The couch dipped with his weight as he pounded your pussy, punished her for whatever perceived slight against him.

“Terry!” You screamed.

“Scream it, baby,” he moaned. He pounded faster, nothing but wet, nasty smacks echoing in the room. Your pussy welcomed him in easily. He glided and fucked you to within an inch of your life.

“Why you fucking me like this?” You panted. Your thighs were weak against his hips. He pounded so fast that the hair on his thighs created a slight burn on yours. The burn only seeped into your skin, driving your pleasure through the roof. The next one was gonna kill you.

“Because you cum so pretty. Give me another,” he demanded. How many was his limit? How many would he pull from you? You were scared to find out.

Tears ran in tiny rivers down your cheeks. The pleasure was too much. Too big. Too wild. Too uncontrollable and fuck, you greedily wanted more. Your head flopped from side to side. You didn’t have another one in you. You couldn’t give him what wasn’t there.

His head dipped to nip at your chin, your neck, and your breast. He suckled your nipple into his mouth, teasing it with his teeth. Like a wilted flower with fresh water, you came back to life.

Electricity buzzed beneath your skin. Terry slipped out and then slapped his dick against your clit. Your pussy juices squelched and droplets bounced off. “Keep taking this dick like a good girl,” Terry moaned.

“Fuck, yes, Terry. Terry, Terry,” you moaned.

“Cream that shit, fuck,” Terry moaned.

He fucked another orgasm from you. Your nails dug in hard enough to draw blood as you screamed with pleasure, your voice drowning out the roaring wind outside. Terry stroked three more times before finally releasing his nut.

He bathed your insides with hot, throbbing splashes of his cum. He jerked above you, head lolling from side to side as he rode out his climax.

You both breathed heavily, bodies slick with sweat from the sex and from the still lit fire. You kissed each other with little pecks, needing air too much to lock lips. “Let me taste,” you said.

“Fuck,” Terry groaned. He slipped out of you carefully. You hissed as his glorious pipe slid out of you completely. His cum gushed out, pushed out by your pussy. You couldn’t stop clenching as you got onto your stomach.

You opened your mouth and looked at Terry. He stood up with one foot on the ground and one knee planted on the couch cushion. You gripped onto his waist and pulled him closer. Without hands, he made his dick jerk to attention, still fully hard. You took him in your mouth and hummed at the mix of your flavors.

You relaxed your jaw and took him in as far as he wanted to go. You controlled your breathing as he gripped your head. He pushed you onto his dick, making you suckle the full length of him. Not all of it fit, so his dick started to poke against your cheek.

“Lick it all up for me,” he said. His voice. His voice. He could command you to walk through burning flames and you would if it meant that he slutted you out like this every day from now on.

You suckled him deep, your eyes never leaving his. You communicated without words that the final chink was in place. You were his. Locked in. Mind to mind. Body to body. Soul to soul. You were his to toy with, play with, his to do whatever he fucking wanted. Because you knew down to your bones that no one else would do it for you. No one else would be able to redefine the meaning of sex for you.

His stare pulled you deeper and deeper into the pool of his eyes. Your eyes drooped as you let yourself get used. He thrust into your mouth, pulling your throat down on his dick. You gagged a bit and he moaned and jerked his hips. He lessened his strokes but kept up the pace.

Saliva and his pre-cum mixed in your mouth and dribbled down your chin. Your gawking was loud and disgusting as you sucked him down.

“You’re fucking perfect. Fucking perfect. Fuck, I’m finna bust,” he groaned, his chest rumbling with a growl.

His entire shaft throbbed as he held your head in place while he spilled down your throat. You swallowed his delicious cum, moaning at his taste. His eyes rolled back and you whined at the image.

You suckled on his tip like candy and he stuttered with a chuckle. “Okay, okay, okay,” he tapped out, gently pushing at your shoulders.

You giggled and then sat back and wiped your mouth. “Fuck. What the fuck was that?” You asked.

Terry grinned. He leaned over, kissed you, and then sat next to you. He pulled you into his side, running his hand up and down your back. Your body felt more than relaxed. Floating on cloud nine in a way that you didn’t know was possible.

“Ever since we met, I’ve been imagining what I’d do to you,” he said.

“I love the way your mind works,” you huffed.

Terry chuckled and kissed your temple. “I’m just happy to be of service,” he said.

You tapped his chest. “I can’t stand you,” you said.

Terry rained kisses down the side of your face until he could nibble on your ear. “That wasn’t what you said earlier.”

“I cannot be held accountable for the shit I say while you’re balls deep,” you said, holding up your hand.

Terry gripped your hand with a chuckle and brought it to his chest. He stared into your eyes and then kissed your hand. Then he moved your hand lower and lower, a grin spreading across his face. Your hand wrapped around his thickening dick.

“Already?!” You asked.

He shrugged. “Everything about you turns me the fuck on,” he said.

Terry made quick work of putting out the fire. Then, he brought you into the shower to ‘clean off’. All he managed to do was haul you against the shower wall and dig into your guts once more, filling you to the brim with his searing hot cum.

You dried each other off on the way to the bedroom before falling asleep as soon as your face hit the pillow. You smiled as you drifted off, the later half of your book filling in from your imagination. With Terry as inspiration, you had enough material to fill three books.

The next morning, you were on fire. Well, not literally, but Terry’s body heat ensured you never needed a heater or a throw blanket again.

Feeling you move, Terry woke up and kissed your neck. He was curled behind you, his large arm dropped across your stomach. He was too cute when he first woke up. Eyes blinking open. Licking his lips. Face fussy and scrunched up.

“Hm, good morning to you too,” you said, wiggling your ass against his morning wood.

Terry chuckled and moved his hand to your waist to still your movements. “Don’t play with me,” he said.

You continued to wiggle your ass. “Well, it is Christmas morning. Don’t I get a present?” You asked.

Terry hummed in your ear. “What kind of present?” He asked.

“You,” you said.

“It’s my pleasure to serve,” he whispered in your ear before lowering himself in the bed, beneath the covers. Your legs fell open as he adjusted himself in between and went to work, licking and suckling and nibbling around your clit and entrance until you were a ball of putty in his hands.

Incoherent nonsense spilled from your lips as he made you glimpse heaven two times before coming up for air. He kissed you, face shiny once more with your essence. You licked it off of him, licked the corners of his mouth, and suckled his bottom lip.

Terry groaned, sliding into you with ease. “Nasty ass,” he moaned.

But fuck, he was still so big. So nasty. He pounded into you, giving you long deep strokes. He lowered himself closer to your body so that your nipples rubbed against his chest.

“You fucking me too good!” You screamed.

Terry moaned and closed his eyes. He placed kisses all over your chest, neck, and lips, keeping pace. He carved a Terry shaped hole in your pussy and in your heart, one that he would only be able to fill.

“Cum on this dick. Let me feel it,” he begged.

Your moans increased. Like his words were just what you needed. You clenched around his dick and he groaned, hips jerking forward, before you finally gave in and gave him what he wanted.

“Shit, fuck,” he moaned as he came with you, dick twitching and pulsing. You would never get sick of that feeling. Never, ever, ever.

“Merry Christmas, chipmunk,” he said, panting for air.

“Merry Christmas, Terry.”

Terry spent the remainder of your stay fucking you into oblivion. Every morning, you woke up with new ideas, new tweaks to make the story better and improve on it. The sex scenes, in your very humble opinion, were the spiciest things you’d ever written. Filthy.

When you shared some snippets with your writing community, they about fell out with gleeful gifs and unhinged keyboard smashing.

Every night, Terry fulfilled his promise of giving you plenty to work with for your books. He twisted you in more ways than one. Folded you like a pretzel. Moved you in positions you’d never heard of. And each session left you so spent, your brain unplugged for the night.

On your last day there, you spent it wrapped up in the bed with Terry only coming up for air long enough to snack. And then he’d call you chipmunk or give you The Look. The one where he dipped his chin and his eyes lured you in.

Then you were kissing, touching, and exploring. Then your hand was wrapped around his dick and his fingers were buried in your pussy to the knuckle. You made it a game on who would cum first. You should’ve known you’d lose that battle. Especially when he commanded that you cum on his fingers with that deep voice and Carolina accent.

He would shove his wet fingers into your mouth so you could taste yourself while he fucked you from behind. Or from the front. Or from the side.

The side was becoming a favorite because you could look at him while still giving him access to your ass. He would smack it and squeeze it. Then you would hold your ass cheeks apart so he could watch his dick disappear inside you.

Then he’d make a show of licking his thumb and swirling it around your clit to set you off like a bottle rocket. Then you’d scream and scream his name and beg and beg for him to fill you to the brim one last time.

Just one last time. You just needed to feel it soaking your walls one last time. Really, the last time. Because you did have to get on the road soon.

You promised to find a way to spend time together. You weren’t that far from the rental and since he had his own cabin, it wouldn’t be so bad to arrange dates and fuck sessions.

You didn’t know what kind of Christmas miracle this was or who upstairs was looking out for you, but Terry Richmond was the best present ever.

Merry Christmas, my loves! Love ya'll so bad!

The Secret Terry Richmond Files

Taglist:

@planetblaque @chaos-4baby @amethyst09 @ciaqui @we-outsiiiide

@browngirldominion @iv0rysoap @thecookiebratz @harmshake @00aijia00

@judymfmoody @multiversefanfics @tvchi @xo-goldengirl @superhoeva

@avoidthings @lovedlover @blackgurlnhermoods @flydotty @sageispunk

@semi-yah @halfreal-and-halffiction @motheroffae @melaninpov @pinkpantheris

@slutsareteacherstoo @blackerthings @dreamsinfocus @brattyfics @mermaidchansons

@monaeesstuff @henneseyhoe @blowmymbackout @charismablu @playgurlxoxo

@misskiki90 @miyuhpapayuh @satoruya @starcrossedxwriter @yamst3rdamctrl

@steampunkprincess147 @sweettea-and-honeybutter @theblacklewinsky @soft-persephone @notapradagurl7

@thegreatlibraryofalex @amyhennessyhouse @hihellogoodbyebruh @becauseimswagman1

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quarterlifekitty · 2 days ago

Note

Moth girl getting into that state with nesting, being tired, her belly hurts and she's just acting off.

König already knows it's the time of the year when she lays eggs. But some time passed, and she still didn't get better. Still didn't come out of the pillow nest.

When he's checking up on her, her belly is round and swollen, but the eggs are not coming out..

König having to help her out. Carefully pressing down on her belly, rubbing her little pussy to stimulate her and trick into finally letting the eggs go.

(I made that up, it lives in my head rent free.)

cw: egg laying stuff, overstim

König’s heart aches when he looks down at you, squirming and sluggish all at once, the distention of your belly obvious. His precious mottechen, so uncomfortable and full.

The only struggle he experienced was internal as he pulled you from your nest of blankets and pillows, your usual pips and chirps replaced exhausted whines.

He’d been warned that this could happen. That sometimes hybrids have trouble expressing, especially if the eggs are unfertilized.

He’d gotten you into bed, your back to his stomach with your legs spread and ankles hooked over his thighs.

One of König’s massive hands is splayed over your abdomen, cupped to create a bit more pressure from his gathered fingertips as he rubs ellipses over you.

Your hands grip weakly at his forearm as he tries to stimulate you. You look up at him with barely formed tears gathering at your waterline from how long and tiring this process has been, keeping you exhausted and restless at once.

“Ich werde es besser machen, liebling, I promise,” he coos, shifting his legs to spread you a little better. It feels… a bit wrong to be touching you this way when you’re not well. Like he’s taking advantage, even though he knows it’s the least invasive way to help you. It doesn’t help that you can definitely feel him hard against your back.

His touches start feather-light on your clit, flicking and rubbing to try to spur your inner muscles into making the necessary contractions. His petting and stroking gets heavier, until your hips are twitching and your eyes clench shut with the strain as you pass the first egg in your clutch.

König lets out a breath he’d had no idea he was holding as the cream colored egg slips onto the towel beneath you. It’s a little bigger than the ones in your last clutch had been, which is probably what caused the issue, if he had to guess. His poor little siedenmotte.

The ones after the first come much easier, thank god. He wasn’t sure he could handle seeing your face twisted in pain much more than he already had.

He grinds his teeth, sick with guilt when you thrash against him with what must be the last of your strength— your legs twitching as you try to free yourself from his hold, from the overstimulation. But he has to make sure you’re not holding onto anything, so he keeps you pinned, pressing down on your belly while two of his fingers find a home inside of your sore cunt. He makes you cum, finally, and heaves a sigh of relief when you don’t produce anything more.

Your eggs, which he typically finds laid in an array with almost mathematical precision, sit in a sticky pile on the towel. Not quite as many as usual, but noticeably more girthy, not as uniform either. He hoped it didn’t mean you were sick.

He puts the towel off to the side to be dealt with later, focusing on untangling your legs. He lays with you on his chest, and he starts to hum an old song he remembers from his childhood so you can feel the rumble in his chest. He doesn’t have the deepest voice, but it seems to do well enough for you, relaxing you enough to let your eyes close.

When he feels you’re recovered enough that he feels he can leave you alone to rest, he’ll dig out a flashlight from his dresser to shine through each of your eggs, just like always, just to make sure there’s nothing in them before they’re returned to you.

Hopefully you’d be back to your usual self tomorrow. He isn’t sure how much more of this his heart can take.

#writing #cod fanfic #cod #hybrid au #hybrids #moth!reader #konig x you #konig x reader #konig #könig x reader #könig x you #könig #cw eggs #cw egg laying

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woodle-isbae · 2 days ago

Note

Ambessa treating reader like a prized pet please please please 😫🙏 and maybe also being very condescending and lowkey mean 🫣

Flaunted like a trophy

Ambessa.M x fem!reader

Warnings: Trophy reader, suggestive(very), Drabble.

There you were, in the bedchambers of the one and only Ambessa Medarda. You stood there, draped in the finest jewelry she could get, the softest fabrics and a personal stylist to meet your demanding fashion choice.

Spoiled rotten.

That's what you were, given everything you wanted on a golden platter- never settled for anything she deemed low quality. You had one job, very easy and simple considering that she made sure you did it every day- dress like a little trophy so she can flaunt you around.

Most people would've given up by now, having to constantly show out- even in private, making sure she liked your outfits. Being put on a strict care routine- all so she can brag about your beauty.

"Stunning."

Her voice rung through the large room, the glint of heavy golds and jewelry around the place partially blinding you at angles. You were posing infront of her, showing off the new outfits she had designed for you to last a month at most.

"Everyone's going to be set on you, my dear."

She stood up, placing her glass down to strut towards you, her rough hands tracing every stitch on the thing gold material. She only stopped when she made it to your breasts, examining you for a brief moment before snapping her fingers.

"It's not pushing them up enough, I want every aspect to be shown."

"I think there should be a deeper cut, they're out enough honestly."

You huffed out, shaking your head in annoyance with how it didn't fit the standard you had set, pouting from the simple mistake.

"We'll get it tailored, don't you worry y'little head off."

"Ugh, make sure it arrives back soon."

She turned to you, a brow raised at your sparky and demanding tone, running her larger hand on your cheek.

"Don't catch an attitude with me."

To anyone else, her voice was calm and hushed, but to you -she was giving you a clear warning, just do as you were required to and it won't be a problem.

"Hm."

Your eyes darted to the door, the guards standing there staring seemingly into the distance. Ambessa had lifted her other arm, waving them off so it could be just you two in the room.

"You know...I really like the gold on your skin, it really suits you."

She had led you over to the sofa, signaling for you to lay down besides her as she sat, leaning on the back rest.

"Strip, I..want to see how it would slip off your body."

Her dull attempt at a lie made you giggle, uncliping a few knots and buttons before sliding the dress off your body, Ambessa grabbing the clump of fabrics and tossing it aside.

You leaned back onto the sofa, spreading your legs in anticipation for her next moves, your arousal seeping through the thing lace pair of panties she picked for you.

"Ah...you are really inpatient huh?"

She chuckled, pulling you in my for a kiss by the back of the neck, her tongue slipping into your mouth. Pulling back for some air, she gave you a smug smirk before pulling back and standing at her full height.

"Get ready for tonight, mabye if your lucky...I could finish what we started."

She walked past you, her hand brushing past your shoulder before she left the room. Leaving you alone to cool down before getting redressed.

Oh, how you couldn't wait.!

#azana #x black reader #chubby!reader #black plus size reader #ambessa smut #ambessa medarda #arcane ambessa #ambessa league of legends #ambessa x reader

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starboye · 1 day ago

Text

starring: bucky barnes x male reader

request: Hey, can you write a Bucky x bottom male reader smut? Y/N is a crossdresser and shows Bucky his new lingerie.

warnings: smut, sweet pet names, fingering innuendos, cursing

this was buckys favorite time of the week, you had just went out shopping with all your friends and bought home some new sexy clothes to try on and you know you have to give him a walk through of it all, trying and the different clothes and asking for his opinion on it, but it seems todays items were a little different.

"and what's these darling" bucky asks picking up a piece of lacy underwear from the bag before you snatch them away "i'll show you later" you smile skipping your way into the bathroom, bucky could hear you all giggly as you put on the slutty clothes seeing as you might be a little long he sat down on the couch, legs spread wide open waiting for his babyboy.

"so what do you think" you asks walking out in some sultry lingerie that had bucky quickly closing his legs to hide his growing erection "fuckin' hell you're gonna be the death of me darling" bucky muttered taking your hand and spinning you around to admire how the little clothing clung to your body so well before he pulled you onto his lap.

"wait i have to show you the other ones" you try to push off him but he pulls you right back to him and starts kissing your neck "no i wanna get a closer look at this one" bucky says leaving hickeys across your collarbone, his cold metal hand reaching down to grope your ass while his human on kept a tight grip on your neck.

"you look so fuckin' sexy y/n" he says pulling the underwear down to run his metallic fingers over your hole "no bucky not that one" you warn him before he caught his mistake and brought his human hand down to start fingering you open when he felt something wet already there, w-was that lube?

"already ready for me huh baby" bucky chuckles watching how you turn embarrassed as he figures out you wanted him to fuck you "i just need it bucky" you cling to him, arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders and he gives in, lifting you up slightly to finally free his aching hard cock to you which you instinctively try to touch "nope not this time darling let me take care of it" bucky coos.

he spits into his hand before lathering that on his cock, making sure it's nice and wet before he slides it into your tight hole, sucking him in so easily like a good boy, his hands find their way around your hips and bounce you up and down on his cock, listening to your moan out whimpers and whines as you feel his grip tighten on you.

"fuck bucky" you whine hiding your face in the crook of his neck, the scruffiness of his beard itching at your cheeks, he chuckled as he watch you struggle to handle him as if you guys didn't fuck just before you left today "you like that sweetcheeks" bucky teases you, his movements into you becoming rougher and rougher as he feels his climax creeping up.

"where do you want it" bucky quickly asks, reveling in the sound when you say "inside me daddy" with that whiny little voice making him cum on the spot, heavy breathes leaving both your mouths until bucky finally spoke up "how 'bout you show me that other outfit huh" he said jokingly but you actually did, limping your way to try on the next set of lingerie that would end up the same one that one has.

taglist:@mailmango @spermeboy @ghostking4m @gayaristocrat @addictedtomalepits @staarb0y @crispysoup318 @its-ares @gargoylesworld09 @znerac

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munv · 3 days ago

Text

𝗜𝗠𝗠𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗜𝗡 𝗘𝗦𝗖𝗔𝗧𝗦𝗬

𝗜𝗻 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗵, 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗵𝗮𝗱 𝗱𝗶𝗲𝗱 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗿𝗲𝗶𝗻𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗼 𝗕𝗹𝘂𝗲 𝗟𝗼𝗰𝗸 𝗮𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗜𝘁𝗼𝘀𝗵𝗶 𝗦𝗶𝗯𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 𝗲𝗹𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝘀𝗶𝗯𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝗛𝗼𝘄 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗷𝗼𝘂𝗿𝗻𝗲𝘆 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗻𝗲𝘄 𝗹𝗶𝗳𝗲 𝘁𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂? 𝗪𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗴𝗼𝗮𝗹𝘀 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗶𝘁 𝗹𝗲𝗮𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘁𝗼?

Im keeping my promise about posting guys <33

The morning sun slightly blended in through the curtain of your room, it was the weekend and you had no real intentions of waking up. At least, that was the initial plan.

"Nee-san!"

You grumbled over your breath in response to the familiarness of the name, rolling over to the other side of your pillow and finding a comfy position before getting ready to double click on the z's again. "Nee-san!"

A small head of tussled black hair dashed into your room, with a slightly taller head of reddish brown following close behind. "NEE-SAN". The ongoing commotion from the two children managed to wake you up from your slumber, not without irritation of course. "what the hell.." you peeked from under your covers to come face to face with your two so called brothers, and to think that you were safe this morning since you had time before your parents went out. Turns out the time was too little.

Using your pillow as a support, you manage to sit up successfully and turn to look at your brothers, eyes squinting from the sunlight you manage to get a few words out, "can you guys explain.." you take a pause with a long sigh, "why you two are running around the house like some wild pets that are yet to be vaccinated??.."

"soccer!"

You blinked before coming to your senses. "what?."

"Soccer." Replied the older of the two

The both of them chanted, Little Rin with the biggest smile and Sae behind him with this stare. You thought having one soccer fanatic in the family was enough, but Rin ended up picking up the terrible obsession after hanging out too much with Sae. You make a mental note on how much this is your fault since you were so busy with other things to actually make an attempt to bond with your little brothers. A miscalculation on your end you will make sure not to make ever again.

Rin stepped forward and presented a soccer ball in his hands with energy and excitement emitting off of his very being. "play with us, please!"

"quit being lukewarm and get your lazy butt out of bed." Sae said with a light glare. You took off the top sheet you used to cover yourself with before facing the little devils. "Quit making an intense overuse of "lukewarm" for me while you get that attitude in check" you snarked back.

"let's play! please nee-san! You aren't busy right? Lets go, go go!!" It was early as ever this morning and Rin was already raring to go, tugging on your arms and all. You sweat dropped at the sight of the little boy trying to drag you out of bed. "Sorry Rinny..I have plans."

Suddenly it wasn't Rin in front of you, but Sae, "nee-san...surely you wouldn't leave your little brothers all alone" The little brat upgraded to a bastard in less than 10 years..you underestimated him a bit too much. He knew what he was doing, but what hurt even more was that you knew that he was right. You couldn't leave some 4 and 7 year old's to their own devices, especially these two. Sae was a far from normal child and leaving Rin with him was more of a gamble than you were willing to take.

With a depressed sigh you came to a bone crushing conclusion, "get dressed in 5, we're going out." You were going to regret this, not like there hasn't been a moment you haven't.

"[name]!" A young boy called out. Your meeting today was near a soccer field, and oh the irony, since you've brought the two addicts in the flesh. His blonde hair grew longer since the last time you've seen him, and not to mention he's grown a little taller. "Micheal!" you waved back. He ran up to you from his spot with sudden urgency. His clothes were dirtied more than they would usually be.

you assume hes been practicing a lot more recently with the way he started panting like a dog. “Oh, did you bring your little brothers??” He looked at the small children behind to you.

Rin looked at him curiously before bursting out into a smile “Hi!! Are you [name]-nees friend??”

“Too bright”…you sweatdropped at the mini sun introducing himself. Sae, ever the anti-social one, settled to stare at the older boy instead.

“Lukewarm—“

before he could finish the rest of the sentence you slapped the back of his head while Kaiser doubled back in surprise.

“Sorry about him. He’s been on this one word tangent for a while and won’t stop. This is Sae” you introduced him.

”aha! Right!” He wondered with the way the youngest didnt react to you slapping your brother if this was a normal occurrence. ”so what did you have in mind today?”

“You want to walk around? Theres some good as scenery's around here I wanted to take a look at.”

“Sure! Im down for it.” You didn’t want to do anything too exciting today, considering the fact Micheal had to get back home soon. You were aware of his situation at home and tried your best to accommodate the best you could.

the two younger Itoshi’s could only watch you two chatter away with smiles. This was sure to be an interesting evening.

ITOSHI OMAKE

sae was, unsure of what to make of this. Him and Rin were walking behind you two as you both giggles and chuckled away.

Just what the hell was this?

surely this couldn’t be the start of what he thought to be…what do you call it, potential love interest? It can’t be. Its just too good to be true.

Rin, ever the angel wouldn’t understand the danger their older sibling was in right now. If he didn’t tread carefully, that blue serpent would steal you right from under his nose.

“nii-san…does nee-san like him?” Good God. If even Rin noticed the new behavior, he knew you were a goner.

”they’re just good friends, Rin.” He remarked, almost as if he was convincing himself. Yeah, just good friends. Nothing else brewing in the pot.

“Okay!!” He nodded along. Anything his older siblings said was nothing short of truth in little Rin’s head, of course.

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leeknow-thoughts · 2 days ago

Text

𝅄 ׅ⊹ ۪ ꣑୧ dance of the sugarplum fairy

𝝑𝝔 l.mh x f!reader

𝝑𝝔 synopsis : Minho believes in fact over fiction. He's a scientist. It's practically in his blood. You're as much of a scientist as he is, hell, a better one than him at that. Yet, you still find wonder in the holidays. While you find wonder in presents and twinkling lights. Minho finds wonder in you. Could a confession gone wrong end up going right for him? Could you reciprocate his feelings that he's been pushing down for years and years?

𝝑𝝔 warnings : chemistry professor!minho, chemistry professor!reader, f!reader, mutual pining, christmas in a non-religious way, crying (in a sappy way), jisung! cameo, tooth rotting fluff, smut got mixed in with my fluff??, no clear dynamics, but minho is mommy (sorry guys act fucking surprised), mommy!kink, shower sex, p in v (unprotected, pls don't do this!!), pet names, pls lmk if I missed any warnings!!

𝝑𝝔 note from the author ! : Calliope once again indulges in soft!minho and doesn't apologize for it >_< I hope everyone is having a wonderful holiday season and that all who celebrate Christmas get exactly what they wanted!! :3

You're as reactive as Fluorine, and Minho wishes he didn't think of you chemically the way he does. He wishes he didn't immediately think of you when he thought of work and his experiments and the fucking teaching position he held. He wishes he could just think of you for you and he could go fuck off for all he cares - having a crush on his coworker.

And you're humming along to the song playing over the radio - some Clario song, he only knows who that is because you love her music. Honestly, he thinks you like music more than you like chemistry - so why did you choose to do this for a living?

You surely weren't a bad singer - Minho had heard you sing, it puts the harked herald angels to shame if he does say so - and you certainly were pretty enough to be famous.

Pretty was an understatement, you were the most devine creation to walk this earth. There's no way in his mind that he can conceptualize that you breathe the same oxygen as him - to him it was a privilege that he got to see you at all.

You were sought after, every fucking college in the nation wants you to work for them, yet you stay here. It wasn't like the place you work at is bad, it's MIT for Christ's sake, but Harvard has been asking for you for years.

He's almost offended by it, colleges treating you and all your brilliance like a tradeable Pokémon card.

Speaking of Pokémon, you're watching it on your phone as you finish up a lab report. How you can listen to music and watch a show and write a detailed report baffles Minho, but he doesn't question you because you're you, and he's the utter fool in love with you.

"You're spacing out Minho," your voice graces his ears, fuck, was he staring at you? "You look like you need a coffee, let's go get a cup, I'll pay."

You smile that sweet smile and talk in your sweet voice any longer and he's sure he's going to go insane. You're letting your hair down and it falls just right, framing your face perfectly. You had curled it that morning, and worn a perfume that smells like autumn.

He knows it's ridiculously foolish to consider something a chance that is nothing but stolen glances and blush stained cheeks and private thoughts. He can't help it.

"I think Jisung needs to start letting you get some sleep, you're zoning out so much," you hum with such concern, and he crumbles.

He feels almost dirty. Dirty for the thoughts he has of you. Dirty for the reason he isn't getting much sleep. Thinking about you in ways that would terrify a Catholic, or hell, even an atheist.

"'t's not Jisung," he slurs his words together.

They become a wet mix of vowels and articulations when he's talking to you. He hopes he doesn't sound this fucking dumb when he is teaching.

"Maybe you're sick," you tilt your head.

It's a habit you have, tilting your head when you make a statement. He finds it endearing. It was one of the first things about you that he perceived as such.

"'m fine, promise," he brushes off, "'nd I don' need any coffee."

"Well, you better wake up before the festival," you sigh, and he hates to think he let you down.

The festival, fuck, that is today. Each year the college throws a winter festival for the students, a lot of sororities and fraternities set up booths and the cafeteria gets turned upside down with decorations. The faculty's Secret Santa too, shit, he hasn't wrapped his gift. He really doesn't hate the festival or the idea of it, it keeps him young. He just doesn't know if he is gonna be able to stay around you any longer.

"Who did you get for Secret Santa?" you ask, taking a seat at the table, returning to your lab reports.

"Jus' Lix," he hates how drunk he sounds, "what about you? You always go above and beyond in the gift department."

He would never lie to you, you do go above and beyond with gifts. Each year, you go all out, spending a ridiculous amount of time and effort when it comes to the gifts you buy for people.

"Can't say unfortunately," you whisper, "or else it wouldn't be a secret."

You give him a smile that makes his stomach do a flip. "But I did get you something," you perk up.

You walk over to your bag and pull out a wrapped parcel, and carefully hand it over to him. "Thought you'd like it, took forever for it to ship over from overseas."

Minho examines the neatly wrapped box, wrapped in pink wrapping paper with a pink bow tied on top of the box. "Thank you," he sounds breathless.

He opens it carefully, and is met with a white box. He pulls the lid off and pulls out the cloth that sits on the bottom of the box. Revealing a white lab coat. The fabric is crisp and ironed. In the corner the text 'Dr. Minho Lee, PhD' is embroidered in black. Underneath the lettering is another embroidered patch. Instead of his name though, it's his three cats. Each of the cats looks identical to their real counterparts. "Sorry if it's stupid, I-" you apologize, "I just- I dunno-"

Stupid? It's the most thoughtful gift he has gotten in a long time. It comes from your heart, how could it be stupid.

You're the most beautiful and thoughtful person he's ever met. I love you, loved you for so long, he thinks to himself. He's so moved he almost feels like crying.

"Minho," you're quiet, stunned into silence.

He just realizes how his mouth has betrayed his mind, and his legs are moving with a panic.

The air is so damn dense as he sprints down the hall from the lab. The white fluorescent lights taunt him with their hum as he dashes away. Away from you, away from the chance that was all in his head.

He is gripping at the tie around his neck. He sees no comfort in the double doors out of the science lab, he is running without reason.

He breaks through the double doors and is soaked almost instantly. The snow is heavy and it patters against his body.

His legs stop moving, and he just stands there. In the snow. Terribly cold and terribly wet. He could curse God, but he doesn't believe in Him.

The doors behind him open and close. Doom blooms in his rapidly rising and falling chest. "Minho," it's you again, "Minho, you'll catch a cold."

His legs are frozen through. He couldn't move if there were a bear chasing him. He can't speak either. He's rendered silent. "Minho, it's about fucking time you confessed, b-because I-I l-love you too."

He can suddenly find the strength to face you.

When he does, the first thing he notices is your face. Mascara has soaked your cheeks, tear stains evident. "Y-huh? Wh-why are you c-crying?"

"Because I fucking love you," you sound weak- Minho never heard your voice sound so scared, "a-and you love me too? Did you mean it? You love me too?"

You're equally as soaked by the snow as he is. Your arms are crossed over your chest. He moves before he thinks, there really is nothing to think.

Hypothesis : you want him to kiss you. And according to the scientific method, he must test his hypothesis.

He's putting one foot in front of the other and moving to you. He wastes no time, simply cupping your face and pulling you in for a kiss.

Sparks fly like shown in movies, his lips feel tingly and he can feel his heartbeat in every bone of his body.

Your lips are even softer than he imagined. Soft and molding against his own in ways that make him dizzy.

Like throwing a block of lithium into a pond, he feels like he may explode. Every atom in his body is undergoing a chain reaction that is so right he would never stop it.

"Love you," he's mumbling against your lips, "loved you for so long. You're everything I've ever wanted."

Tears brim his lashes, they nearly fall, but he is too elated to cry. "Minho," your voice is muffled by the sloppy kisses you're placing on his lips. You let out a groan and Minho's composure crumbles.

"Always been you," you hum, "since I met you, no one else."

All he had known until now had been decomposed and resynthesized. Like a chemical equation. He hates that he still thinks of you chemically.

Yet, he'd count every atom in your body so he could find out why you're so you. He's tear apart the heavens and the earth and chemically rearrange them just to see you smile.

Your bodies are melting together, forming a mixture of desperation, love, and lust. His hands are gripping every inch of your soft flesh available.

"Minho- mhm- take m-me home," you whimper into his mouth.

He kisses you one last time. He knows he will have this life, and the next to kiss you, he's in no rush.

His eyes finally open again, and he swears he has never seen a more beautiful sight. Your makeup is running down your face, and your lips are kiss bitten. Your body is pressed against his, and your hands are cupping his jaw. "H-home?" He stutters like a little kid.

"Your house," you grin, and he swears there's a mischievous glint in your eyes, "unless you don't wanna see me naked?"

If his jaw hadn't been on the floor before, it definitely was now. "God," he groans, "c'mon."

He's pulling you along with him, in the pouring snow, to his apartment. "If I catch a cold because of you, Lee Minho," you vaguely threaten.

"Then I'll nurse you back to health," he immediately replies.

You're both placing one foot in front of the other at a fast pace. When he sees his apartment around the corner, his heart thumps rapidly in his chest.

He doesn't struggle with the keys even though his hands are shaking beyond reasonable doubt. The warmth and comfort from his home is nothing compared to that which he gets from you.

He's stepping inside and pulling you in with him before slamming the door closed. A sudden fear rises in his chest, and any semblance of what to do next faded from his mind.

You notice this, you notice everything. "You okay?" you press your body against him.

You're both soaked from head to toe in cold water, yet you're so warm against him. "I-I?" he's stunned, like a dear in headlights.

You try and fail to hide the disappointment in your tone when you say, "do you not want t-"

He doesn't even leg you finish the sentence, "-I do. I do. I do. I-It's just not supposed to hap-happen like this."

"Please explain?"

"I - I have pictured, I've thought about us- us doing this, and I-I feel like I'm doing it wrong," you search his eyes for a clue as to what he means, "I mean-I just thought it would be so much more, romantic. N-not the confession, the- I just want to make it perfect for you."

"And how would you do that?"

"With rose petals and red wine and candles and-"

You shut him up with a kiss that is broken all too soon for Minho's preference, "you're such a dork, oh my god," you sigh playfully and hit his chest lightly, "I don't want roses or red wine, or candles. Minho, I want you. That's it."

"I-I," he stutters and can feel his cheeks heating up, "w-we should hop in the shower?"

"Excellent idea," you smirk.

Minho takes your hand in his and leads you to his bathroom, "sorry for the mess," he apologizes but knows that you won't mind.

He takes his eyes off you for only a moment to turn on the warm water, and when he turns back to you, you're halfway undressed. He swears he's never seen anything as beautiful as you.

You with your shirt and skirt in a heap on the floor, the only thing covering you is your underwear. Black cotton panties with lace hemmed on the side and a matching black bra.

You're reaching behind your back to unclasp your bra when he speaks up, "let me."

You smile at him and turn around, Minho's lips ghost down the side of your neck while his hands busy themselves, taking off your bra. He kisses down the back of your neck and your body shudders against his own.

You eagerly flip around and press your lips against his own. Now it's your hands that are pulling at his soaked shirt. You break the kiss but only for a moment, only so you can take off his shirt.

"Mhm," you moan into his mouth and Minho's grabbing at your sides like a madman.

His fingers hook under your panties and pull them down your legs.

And he finally gets a good look at your most sacred parts. They're more beautiful than his mind has ever painted them to be. Your breasts are soft to his touch, not too big nor too small. And your cunt, it looks tastier than a Sunday dinner in his eyes. His eyes rake down your happy trail that connects to your neatly trimmed bush and he wants to kiss it. He wants to kiss every inch of your skin.

He pulls down his boxers with his pants, and his semi-hard cock aches to be touched, to be inside you. You take his hand and step under the stream of water. He follows.

He'd follow you anywhere.

Hot water brings life to his cold skin. He's wrapping his arms around you, and his lips push against your own. "Where's the scar from?" you mumble the question between kisses.

"Had surgery wh-when I was a kid," he only stumbles over his words because your hand wraps around his cock and starts to slowly pump him.

He's so sensitive it hurts. Hurts all over. His body writhes at its own accord. "Your cock is so fucking pretty," you hum.

The words are filthy, but they sound as holy as the Pope's because they're said by you. "Baby- I-" you're so good at making him feel good.

Had you done this with someone else? Had you jerked them off in their shower? Had you ever brought another person this much pleasure?

Jealously pools in his chest at the idea of you with anyone that isn't him. "W-why are you so good at this? I-I just, please, wanna be the last. Can't handle the idea o-of you doing this to anyone but me," he confesses.

His sudden confession makes you falter and he tries to read the expression on your face, "last time I did this was before I met you, there's never been anyone since I met you. You were always gonna be it for me."

He almost sinks to his knees he feels so stupid. "D-do you want me to prep you?"

"There's no need, I promise," you smile at him.

You flip around, your body is pressed against his shower wall, the warm water hits his back and he swears he's never been more comfortable in his whole life.

He holds his cock in his hands and lines it up at your entrance. "You ready?" He can't help but sound a little cocky.

"God, Minho, just put it in," you whine.

His knees falter when he finally presses inside you, your walls are warm, inviting. You were right, you didn't need any prep.

"Oh, God," he groans even though he only has his tip in, "fuck, don't know how long I'm gonna last."

"Don't worry," you hum, a sharp squeak leaves your mouth when he stills all the way inside you.

He's buried so far in his cock is pressed up against your cervix. A shiver runs through his body when he finally thrusts inside you. You're tight and warm and so soft.

He's desperate, with every thrust of his hips he is losing every drop of his composure.

"Harder," you beg, "fuck me like you mean it."

His hips slam against your own, and you let out cries of pleasure as your body convulses against his own.

"Love you," you repeat the words like a mantra, they tumble from your lips with every thrust of his hips.

His hand wraps around your body and finds your clit. He would die if he didn't make you cum first. "Ah, jagi," he moans.

"Ah, Min- mama," you don't even realize what you're saying.

Mama? That was new, but he wouldn't protest. Not to you. Not in a million lifetimes.

"Mama, hmm?" Minho whimpers, "you wanna call me that?"

"Mhm," you nod your head furiously, "love you so much!"

How he loves you too.

His hand glides down your body and finds your swollen clit, he rubs it tenderly as his hips stutter in their movements. "Mama!" you squeal, "gonna cum!"

Minho can't warn you before he cums. He swears on everything he knows, this was the best sex he's ever had. His body convulses against yours and all that can be heard is the water hitting the shower and the both of your debauched breaths.

"Love you," you whisper.

Minho places a kiss on your spine, "I love you so much more, jagi. Merry Christmas."

#bun.writes #bunwritesskz #skz #skz imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids x you #stray kids #lee minho smut #lee know scenarios #lee minho x reader #lee know #lee know smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #skz x reader #lee minho #lee know x reader

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ddodol · 2 days ago

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action — s.es

series ⭑.ᐟ [ kinktober masterlist ] content warning ⭑.ᐟ smut! minors dni!, rookie actor!eunseok, actress fem!reader, pet names, eunseok is shy?, oral (m.), eunseok head pusher agenda, dacryphilia, eunseok is also kinda mean. word count⭑.ᐟ 1.6k+

a/n; accidentally posted the draft earlier while i was on my phone </3 i thought it was gone for good adfdaks. anyway :3 merry christmas yall <3

eunseok was a fairly new actor, rising to fame for his unreal features and the innate ability to make a person’s heart go wild.

despite all of that, the proud song eunseok had but one weakness— intimate scenes.

you were casted as a lead actor alongside eunseok, a monumental achievement in your acting career that you don’t plan on taking for granted. you were slightly older than eunseok, more experienced. he was fully aware of that as well, ears turning bright red whenever he had to ask you for pointers whenever it came to scenes that required physical contact.

even after months of filming, eunseok couldn’t break out of his shy demeanor, whether it was with the staff or with you, his co-lead. though, he was professional enough to not let it affect the filming progress— until today, that is.

the director proposed for a break, having messed up one scene countless of times. feeling guilty, the rookie actor was bowing and apologizing to the staff for the delays he was starting to cause. he was lucky to be working with such an easygoing crew, otherwise he'd be getting reprimanded for his unprofessionalism.

nonetheless, eunseok tried his best in everything, and you knew that he'd come looking for you in a matter of minutes after looking over the scenes for tonight.

you met his eyes from afar, exchanging a knowing look. you had no idea how it happened, considering how you were only a few months his acting senior, but he always came to you for help. eunseok walked past the staff, long legs striding, approaching you with flushed cheeks.

how adorable, you thought.

”do you want to try it somewhere more private?” your simple question made him blush once more, making you giggle a little. he gave you a small nod, which you smiled at. “follow me.”

you led the way, the sound of his footsteps filling up the hallway as a reminder that he was just right behind you.

as soon as the door to your dressing room closed, eunseok grabbed your arm and pinned you against the door, taking you by surprise. he was even more breathtaking up close, taken aback by the sudden change in his demeanor.

you could hear him swallow audibly, lips parted open as he took a deep, shaky breath. “was that okay?” eunseok asked meekly, eyes turning glossy and his cheeks beginning to flush, a huge contrast to how he was acting seconds earlier. that was when it hit you— he was trying out a scene from the drama. you bit your bottom lip, fighting back a giggle.

you teasingly snaked your arms around him, testing his reaction. sure enough, he turned even redder, almost about to explode as his brain processed what was happening.

”is this okay, too?” you whispered, staring up at him. taking it a step further, you slowly ran your hands through his chest, feeling his breath hitch. you chuckled, amused by his reaction.

”you don’t seem to have any trouble with that,” you stared at him, trying to gauge his reaction. you noticed the way he was shifting around uncomfortably, now avoiding your gaze. you looked down instinctively, eyes going wide at the surprise he had for you.

”oh, wow.”

eunseok cleared his throat, shyly glancing at you. “fuck— i’m sorry, it’s been like that since earlier.”

you raised a brow, eyes flickering up and down. “you mean, you’ve been rock hard ever since our characters were talking about their break-up?” you asked, in disbelief.

”no, no, no!” he sighed, hanging his head out of embarrassment, bright red ears in full display. despite working together for a month, this was the first time you’ve seen him this vulnerable. “you’re a pretty crier,” eunseok mumbled.

oh, that explains a lot.

your couple scenes so far all included some dramatic dialogue, and that meant you were crying most of the time. eunseok always seemed so invested during those scenes, holding you more tenderly and speaking in a way that felt intimate— the exact vibe your director has been trying to fish out of him.

you held back a smile, hooking a finger under his chin to make him look at you. eunseok let out a shuddering breath, eyes fixated on the way your lips curved up. he didn’t care how stupid he looked right now, eunseok was sure that anyone would act the same way if you were doing the same thing to them.

he swallowed thickly, parted lips slowly closing in on yours. you pressed your palm on his mouth before he could kiss you, prompting him to look at you in confusion.

"never said you could have a taste," you mumbled, a small smirk forming on your lips. eunseok was feeling desperate— he did have a massive boner rubbing against your thigh after all.

"please." you chuckled at his desperation, watching him take your ring finger in between his teeth, nibbling on it gently. "i'll get my act together after this, i swear. i just want to see those pretty lips around my cock," eunseok groans, brows furrowing as his lips moved against your fingers, as if he was kissing them instead.

you sighed softly, eyes darting down at his erect length. you reached down to palm him through his pants, making eunseok moan sensitively. eunseok's cock throbbed against your hand, breath hitching in your throat as you felt a flood of warmth surging through your body.

you felt turned on from his soft sighs, intoxicated with the way his pretty face would twist whenever you focused on his tip. you bit your lip, "fuck it."

eunseok watched as you tied your hair up, freezing in surprise when you got on your knees without any hesitation. he swallowed thickly, eyes trained on every single movement you made. he murmured soft curses when you helped him free his erect length, cock standing tall and casting a shadow over your features.

it was your turn to swallow nervously, taking in every single curve and vein of his cock. eunseok's cock was pretty, the tip of his cock already red and leaking. you glanced at him, licking a small strip up his shaft to start.

eunseok shuddered in response, clenching his jaw as he tangled his hand through the messy hairdo you just did. he panted softly, almost willing you to take him in your mouth, desperate to know how you'd feel.

your face contorted, comfortably taking in his tip. eunseok's cock wasn't thick save for his tip, letting you relax your jaw as you took in more of his length. by the time you reached what you assumed was half of him, you could already feel his tip poking at the gummy part of the roof of your mouth, making you gag slightly.

his eyes visibly sparkled when he felt you gagging on his cock, tempted to act on his impulses. he let you bob your head shallowly, trying to get used to his length. eunseok discreetly flexed his hips forward whenever you'd move down on his cock, wanting to see you gagging on his cock, to see you crying as you take him in your warm mouth.

eunseok cupped your cheek with one hand, his other still tangled through your scalp. "i know you can take more," his deep voice rang in your ears, body tingling as you glanced up at him. eunseok's eyes were dark, panting softly as he stared down at you.

it was almost like you couldn't find the same bashful rookie actor you were just teasing a few moments ago— now you were at his mercy.

without warning, eunseok pushed your head down on his length, the tip of his cock reaching the back of your throat. you gagged, closing your eyes shut as tears began to sting your eyes.

eunseok licked his lips, jerking his hips forward as he moved your head for you. he could tell you were overwhelmed, your whines vibrating against his throbbing length.

"fuck," he whispered, watching as a tear rolled down your cheek. your eyes fluttered open, brows furrowed as you stared up at him. eunseok could feel shivers down his spine, adoring the way you looked helpless with his cock filling your mouth.

eunseok could tell that you've surrendered to him, letting him move you as he pleased. his soft moans began to fill the empty room, thighs starting to tense up. he was close.

you let out small, broken moans of your own, gripping on his legs as he pushed you down on his cock, thrusting deep. you could feel your throat bruising, tears spilling from your eyes at the slight pain.

"baby, hold my hand if you don't want me to cum inside your pretty mouth." you stared up at him through your bleary vision, finding his cheeks fully flushed. you had no intentions of stopping him from what he wants, mostly because you were craving for it as well.

eunseok's breath hitched in his throat when he met your eyes, "fuck, fuck— what a good fucking girl." you felt shivers down your spine at his gruff praises.

his hips began to stutter, bucking into your face, balls slapping your chin with each movement. he let out a deep groan, head thrown back as he pressed your head down to the base of his cock. you gagged, unable to contain your coughs when you felt him shooting his cum in your throat.

you pulled away as soon as his grip on your head loosened, coughing violently. you wiped away traces of his cum on the edge on your mouth, as well as the mix of liquids that found its way through your nose.

eunseok panted, placing his hand against the door to support himself up, legs trembling miserably from his orgasm. his eyes flickered, reaching down to help clean your face.

once you were decent, eunseok helped you get up. he chuckled softly, holding your cheek. "you know, every time we get on scene and you cry— this is all i'd ever think about now."

you laughed weakly, voice still a bit hoarse. "guess that means i need to keep helping you out, then."

#૮ > ⤙ < ྀིა #riize imagines #riize scenarios #riize x reader #riize smut #eunseok imagines #eunseok scenarios #eunseok x reader #eunseok smut #ddollemons #ddlz: ses #✧₊⁺ kinktober24

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starzradio · 2 days ago

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DOUBLE OR NOTHING

after countless empty promises spilled from his lips, you wanted to believe that he’d show up to your anniversary of all things.

FEATURING: toji fushiguro x wife! reader

CONTENTS: non canon compliant/au, marriage problems, talks of divorce, angst, smut, porn w/out plot rly, unprotected p in v, cunnilingus, fingering, spanking, doggy, missionary against a wall, pet names (ma, princess, etc.)

WORD COUNT: 4.9k

AUTHOR’S NOTE: repost bc i need this dilf in my bed rn 😞

"I'll make it home to you by six, mama. Take you out on a nice date, get you some flowers, all that stuff you like. Promise."

The clock was nearing eight o'clock with no signs of Toji coming through the door anytime soon, your own patience starting to run out with every tick. Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock. The sound echoed through your ears since you'd sat down on the leather couch nearly two hours ago, waiting for Toji to fulfill the promise. A promise that he'd made after flaking out on the date planned prior to that one.

And prior to that one. And prior. It'd been more missed dates than actual ones that he'd taken you out by now—you weren't exactly sure why you'd hoped for tonight to be different. Well, you knew exactly why. Today marked three years of being married to one another. You knew that he didn't prioritize date nights with you as much as he should, but you had held some sort of foolish hope that your anniversary would mean something—anything to him.

The divorce papers felt like a dead weight in your hand, much like how your relationship would be the second that you brought it up. It all just seemed so final, seeing the terms laid out that would end years of marriage. Just by the flick of a pen. But the idea was almost like a reprieve, like something that was worth looking forward to. You shook your head, getting up from the couch to set the stack of papers on the kitchen table where Toji wouldn't miss them.

Another half hour of eerie silence and Toji still hadn't come through the door. It was getting increasingly difficult to keep some semblance of hope that he'd even show up at all, much less for your date. You admitted defeat, slipping off your heels and pulling up a throw blanket over yourself. Succumbing to the sleep that was weighing down on your eyelids.

You weren't even sure how much time had passed when you heard the door swing open, the door hitting the wall from the force. The thud of his shoes hitting the tile followed, a grumble leaving Toji's lips. "Fuckin' bastards rigged that race. Robbed me of fifty bucks," he muttered to himself, slipping his coat off before placing it up on the coat rack.

"You're home late," you called out, watching as Toji turned to look at the couch before flicking on one of the living room lights. "Jesus woman, you scared me," he grumbled, a large hand resting by his chest as he looked over in your direction. Toji rubbed a hand over his face, exhaustion lingering on his face like a second skin. It was only then that he looked over at you, really looked at you, and what you were wearing.

Ah shit.

Almost as if he wanted to make the situation worse, he'd chosen to go with, "You got all dolled up just to fall asleep on the couch?" You could've sworn you felt your eye twitch at the question. He'd barely opened up his mouth and you were already wishing that he didn't even bother showing up for the night.

Toji knew he was in deep shit with each step he took into the living room, his mind already starting to work overdrive to figure out what he could do for what he'd missed. A date? No, you wouldn't have put on the very expensive pair of Louboutins for just any date. His mind was blanking on anything other than the numbers that he'd lost with earlier in the day. Come on, think.

"No, I got dolled up because I thought I'd be going out with my husband tonight," you retorted dryly, smudges of eyeshadow sticking to your hand when you went to rub at your eyes. You could see Toji's brows furrow, the wheels seeming to turn in his head for once, before a look of realization settled on his features.

"Look, I'm sorry. I got carried away at the casino," one of the many excuses you'd heard before coming back to bite you in the ass. The same excuse that he'd used last month when he forgot about a work party you'd mentioned to him. Which wouldn't have been too bad if it weren't for all the snide comments being whispered in your direction and all the unwarranted marriage advice.

Advice that you ended up forgetting about chugging down two glasses of tequila like water. "I'll make it up to you, I swear. You can pick the place and all that shit." There went another one. He'd really topped himself using the two of them in a row. You rubbed the bridge of your nose, looking over at him in disbelief. "Do you even know what today was? Why I'm so pissed off?"

"It's your birthday?" Toji spoke after a couple seconds, the answer clearly wrong just by the look on his face. You rubbed a hand over your face, standing up from your spot on the couch. "It's our wedding anniversary, Toji," you spoke up before he made another guess that would just piss you off even further, "And I have something I need to talk to you about. It's on the kitchen table."

Underneath the vase filled with wilted flowers—a collection more than anything that you kept around as a reminder that Toji used to care, was a stack of papers. He placed the vase down on the table with more force than necessary upon realizing what the documents were. "A divorce?" The words slipped out of him with such venom, such distaste, like the idea was unfathomable.

Toji slammed the papers down on the table, the salt and pepper shakers trembling before falling over. "Is that really what you want?" He stepped closer to you when you approached the table, his hands instinctively moving to hold your hips. Holding you close to his body. "No, I didn't get married with the intention of getting a divorce. But you've been neglecting this marriage for a couple months now."

"I'll make it up to you now," Toji spoke quickly, like he was afraid of losing you at any moment. Like you'd disappear if he didn't. And as much as you wanted to avoid looking over at him, the task had just become all that much difficult when you had nowhere else to look at. It only took one glance at his face to realize just what he meant by 'making it up to you.'

"You think you're gonna fix months of pushing me aside with just sex?"

"Nah, I know it's gonna take more. But you've been so tired, isn't that right? So tired of tryin' to keep this marriage from falling apart and nobody taking care of you?" His words were like a siren's song when he whispered them in your ear, your traitorous body leaning back to meet the drag of your fingertips. It was almost laughable at how easily your resolve had melted. "Lemme take care of you mama. Promise I'll make you feel good."

"You wanna call me a dick, never wanna see me again? That's fine, just don't deny me one last taste. Please," And while Toji wasn't a man to beg for anything in his life, he found himself saying the words anyways. "Thought this was you making it up to me," and as much as you were willing yourself not to fold, you felt yourself spreading your legs almost instinctively when his finger dragged up your inner thigh.

"Can't it be both?" Toji's teeth nipped at your neck, licking a stripe up the junction of your neck. Practically salivating at the taste of you, of the expensive perfume you'd put on just a mere hours beforehand. "One could say that you're just being selfish," your words quickly died out when Toji started sucking on your pulse point, your own heartbeat betraying you. You'd expected Toji to sass you back, say something about how your body was just so needy against his touch.

But instead, he dropped down to his knees in front of you. The wooden floor underneath his knees almost made him feel bad for all the times he had you in a similar position. Almost. Toji looked up at you, "Selfish only when it comes to you."

Every slow drag of his fingertips across your smooth skin seemed almost reverent— like you were something to worship. You were, he just failed to realize that until now. Until you were almost out the door. "I'm sorry," the first real apology of the night slipped out of his mouth, his lips pressed against your shin. "I'm sorry," he moved up to your knee, repeating the action. Hushed whispers of I'm sorry's and featherlight kisses moving up your legs, stopping only when he gets to your clothed cunt.

"I'm sorry," Toji uttered his last apology against your cunt, his eyes locking onto yours as he applied an open mouthed kiss on your clothed clit. Barely darting his tongue out, swirling it against the nerves that were just begging for one ounce of stimulation. And he was practically reveling in how needy he made you in the span of seconds. Your back arched to rest against the seat behind you, one of your hands going to rest on his head.

Toji's fingers dragged slowly in between your folds, feeling the wet patch already starting to form through the thin lace material. You refused to make eye contact with him, knowing that if you did, he'd be able to see just how desperate you were in just a manner of seconds. Even if the bastard probably had a clue already. "You sure your pussy agrees with the divorce?" His voice came out to something akin to a purr, the drag of his fingers slowing down.

Getting you even more worked up than you were already. "Fucking hate you, can't even apologize right," you let out a hiss, your hand going down to his hair. Pulling his head even closer to you despite your previous claim. "Fine, I'll apologize correctly," Toji sounded like you were the one inconveniencing him—to which you were. He wanted to take his time with his meal, have you begging for him to touch you. And normally, he would've.

If he weren't desperate to have your cunt on his face again after weeks, months? of just having his fist to work with. His fist and a used pair of your panties up to his nose like a pervert, hips humping the air in desperation. Imagining that it was your tongue flicking across his leaking tip instead of his thumb, that it was your soft hands in exchange of his rough ones. And as easy as it was for him to get laid—he didn't want to be with anyone that wasn't you.

Toji hadn't tasted someone as sweet as you, heard someone so angelic before, but now he supposed that maybe he'd have to put that theory to the test if you left him after all. Just the idea was maddening. That someone else would be doing the same thing that he's doing to you now, that they'd give you the affection that he should've given.

"Especially sorry to you. Been neglecting you for too long," he hooked his fingers around the side of your panties, pulling them to the side just enough to reveal your slick folds to him. Toji swiped the tip of his finger along your entrance, your slick glistening against the harsh kitchen lighting before he stuck in his mouth. Swirling his tongue around it, licking away at it like the slut he was.

And like the deprived man that he'd been, Toji's hands went to the lace of your underwear and stretched it out until a loud rip echoed throughout the kitchen. "You always this wet for people you hate? Or is that just for me?" Toji taunted, pushing your tattered panties down to your ankles. Finally leaning in closer to where you were aching for him to touch you. To do something other than just tease you relentlessly.

Toji settled on his knees behind you, spreading your legs open like you were his favorite meal. His tongue swiped up on your dripping cunt, licking up your essence with sheer greed. "Mmph fuck, so good," his words came out muffled, his tongue swiping across your folds before darting inside of your cunt. Your grip on the table tightened, your hips working on their own accord to push back onto his face. Practically suffocating him in your pussy. Not that he minded. By any means.

Toji practically welcomed it, his hands pushing you down onto his face. Getting absorbed in your cunt completely. "A-Ah fuck, Toji!" You could already see the noise complaint hanging on your front door first thing in the morning. But how could you be expected to keep your voice down? Toji spread your folds apart with two fingers as if he were preparing for a feast, his tongue feverishly licking in between.

"Fuckin' soaked already, knew you loved me," The vibration of the low chuckle that followed his words shot currents up your spine, your ass jiggling all that much more in his face. With such a decadent taste coating his taste buds, dying by your pussy would be nothing short of a blissful way to go out. One of the fingers that he'd been using to spread your folds had been pushed inside of your cunt, your walls clenching around him.

Toji's tongue flicked against your clit, swirling the tip around the bud while his finger slowly pushed further inside of you. The loud squelch of your cunt was the only thing that filled the apartment, everything else completely silent. Your fingers dug deeper into his scalp, a low groan leaving his lips. "F-Fuck, Toji Toji," he pushed another thick finger inside, moving them in a scissoring motion to stretch you out.

"You think y're gonna find someone who can do this?" Toji looked up at you, his fingers curling up to hit that spongy spot inside of you almost perfectly. And if you didn't know any better, you'd almost say that he looked vulnerable while he made the question. Toji's lips wrapped around your clit, gently sucking on it as his fingers worked you closer and closer to your orgasm. You couldn't bring yourself to answer—didn't trust yourself to speak.

"Toji, Toji, gonna cum," you gave him a warning, your jaw falling slack and your lips parting in a o-shape. Soundless moans leaving your lips, feeling that coil in your lower tummy start to tighten up all the much more. With one final pump of his fingers, you were covering his lips with your release. His tongue swiped across his lips, across the scar that he hated, collecting every drop. Savoring what he imagined would be the last taste of you.

"Turn around," It was almost embarrassing how quickly you'd turned around per your soon-to-be ex husband's request.

Toji didn't take more than a couple seconds in unbuttoning his pants and taking them off, his cock hitting his stomach once it was released from its confines. Precum dribbled from his annoyingly almost pretty pink tip, dripping onto the floor. Drip. Drip. Drip. His cock slid through your folds like a slip n slide, your previous orgasm coating his tip with every lazy drag. "Toji," your voice bordered on a whine, pushing your hips to try to meet his movements.

"Tell me what you want," Toji clicked his tongue, one of his hands moving to hold your waist. Keeping you completely still until he got what he wanted. You figured there wasn't any harm in whining—you were already fucking the man after you brought up a divorce. There truly wasn't that much more to lose. "Why do I have to ask for it when you're the one apologizing?"

"Because you're the one pushing your hips back against me. All needy 'n shit. So.. beg."

"Want you inside me, Toji. Please."

"Want?"

You let out a huff before correcting yourself, "Need."

"Come on, doll. You can say it nicer than that, right?" Toji's pointer trailed up your torso, leaving goosebumps in his wake.

So goddamn annoying. You swallowed whatever pride you had left before looking back over at him, "Please, Toji. Need your cock in me. Please."

Toji clicked his tongue, one hand wrapping around his cock and giving himself a couple tentative pumps. "Think you can beg better than that. But since I'm feeling nice, I guess I'll let it slide." So much for feeling apologetic. Toji pushed his cock inside of you in one swift motion, a hiss leaving your lips at the stretch. Even with the fingers that'd been inside of you, nothing could've really prepared you.

"You okay?" Toji dropped his head to rest on your shoulder, whispering the words in your ear. Staying still while your walls tried to adjust to the overwhelming stretch. "You try taking your cock," you muttered dryly, giving him a nod to start moving. "Why would I do that when you take it so well?" Toji pushed the rest of his cock inside, his hands resting on your hips.

Toji wasn't particularly known for being gentle—the one hospital visit after he'd injured your cervix more than enough proof of that, but he started off slow. Slow, shallow thrusts. Fucking you in a way that he hasn't since your honeymoon. "Toji, you can speed up," you assured him, your words getting cut off with a smack to your ass. "What I'd say about tellin' me what to do?" Ah, there was the mean Toji that you recognized.

"Wouldn't need to tell you what to do if my vibrator wasn't looking more appealing right now."

Famous last words.

The change was almost immediate. Mascara dribbled down your cheeks, the sight of your once composed makeup all ruined making Toji's cock twitch inside of you. "Fucking pretty like this, y'know?" His teeth sunk down on the junction of your shoulder, his teeth grazing across the sensitive flesh. His hips snapped roughly into yours, your breathing growing erratic. "Fuck, Fuck, Toji!"

The coldness of his gold wedding band hit your skin as soon as he went to grip your hips, holding you against him like he needed to be close to you. The two of you had been distant for some time and he hadn't bothered to take off his wedding band once, not even on the rare occasion that he actually did happen to take a job. Toji would never admit it, of course—but he was starved for the feeling of your skin against his own.

To confirm that you were still here after all.

Your hands reached out to grab to whatever you could grab—anything, and of course, it just happened to be the divorce papers sitting on the middle of the table. Practically taunting you as your own signature glared back at you. "This good enough for you, princess?" Toji taunted in your ear, his blunt fingernails digging into your sides. "Mhm, j-just like that," your voice came out in a mewl, all bits of defiance completely out of your system.

"There you go. Nasty fucking girl," Toji all but purred in your ear the moment you started to jerk your hips back to meet his own, your ass bouncing with each one of his thrusts. "Just needed Toji to take care of ya," all you could was nod your head fervently, your grip on the divorce papers tightening. And Toji, of course, took notice. He took the papers from you with one hand, giving them a once-over before passing them back over.

"Come on, since ya wanted it so bad, read me those divorce papers," Toji handed you the stack of papers, pointing to where you'd signed your initials just a couple hours prior. Your hands shook as you held the papers, your vision blurry as you tried to make out the legal jargon in front of you. Even the simplest of words seemed all too complicated to try to make out.

"T-Toji, I can't," your voice cracked, your grip on the papers tightening when his cock reached all that much deeper inside of you. Toji clicked his tongue, peering over your shoulder to read the first sentence from the document. "That's not what it says ma, try again."

"Without all the stuttering too."

You took a deep breath, willing yourself to focus on the words in front of you instead of Toji's cock sinking further and further into you. "S-Says that the divorce agreement was made today between us," you clutched the sheets tighter, your eyes almost rolling back when Toji bottomed out inside of you. The tip of his cock dripping precum, your walls fluttering as you tried to get adjusted.

"Mm, yeah, keep goin'," Toji really couldn't care—his focus solely on the way that your cunt stretched out to fit his cock. Leaking around his shaft, loud squelches when he pulled out overplaying whatever shitty soap opera was playing. "And what'd I say about the s-stuttering?" Toji mocked your words, his own hips stuttering mere seconds later while he tried not to get absorbed in your cunt. Not that it was an easy task by any means.

It was hard, especially with the way that you claimed to be over this marriage despite your pussy claiming otherwise. When you opened your mouth to speak, the only thing that left you was a moan. "F-Fuck Toji, right there," your eyes shut tightly at the touch of his calloused hand making itself in between your legs, his thumb rubbing at your clit in a speed that felt like it combated his own running abilities.

"That's not what it says, c'mon," Toji grabbed your chin with his thumb and pointer, turning your head to face the overwhelmingly long divorce papers. You wouldn't finish tonight if he intended for you to read the whole thing, you knew that much. A harsh slap against your swollen clit made the pleasure coursing through your veins mix with pain, a shaky gasp leaving your kiss-swollen lips.

Drool leaked from the corner of your mouth, the black ink smearing with each drop that fell from your parted lips. Your walls enveloped every inch of his cock perfectly, your cunt holding his cock in a vice-like grip. "That I won't try to t-take your things," you managed to get out, hoping that it would be good enough. You knew the two of you wouldn't finish today if he made you read the never ending stack of papers.

"Good enough," Toji sounded like he would've kept it going if he could, but you set them down as quickly as he spoke. It was almost like Toji was trying to remind you of why you'd fallen in love with him in the first place—the man reverent to your cunt and your cunt only. Every grip of your hips kept you closer and closer to his body, almost as a way for Toji to make sure you weren't slipping away.

"Wh—" Before you had the chance to complain about the loss of contact, Toji had already carried you without a smidge of struggle. His hands hooked underneath your plush thighs, hoisting you up against the wall. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his slutty waist, practically clinging onto him like a koala. "There we go, there's that pretty lil face," Toji placed his pointer underneath your chin, taking in the view in front of him.

The glazed over look in your eyes, the sweat beading up on your forehead, the makeup that he'd successfully ruined—everything about you was just so beautiful. How you tried to avoid looking in his direction for too long. "Don't leave me ma, need you in my life," the words were whispered into your ear, his cock pushing back inside of you in one swift motion. Toji's fingers went back to your throbbing clit, his pointer and middle rubbing against it at the perfect speed.

Not too fast, not too slow, and not too rough.

"Don't ask me to do that," you almost sounded pained as you spoke—not from him filling you up, but for the implication of his words. You'd practically babble anything right now, anything for him to keep going. To forget about the reality that awaits the two of you. Toji's lips found yours in an instant, the exchange between the two of you almost depraved. His mouth was feverish in the way that it moved against yours, like he'd never get the chance again.

Your hand went to the back of his head, pushing him closer against you. Letting yourself forget for just a little while longer. A string of saliva connected your lips to his when you pulled away—only to catch air. "I’m close, Toji, so close," you whined against his lips, your release coating his shaft a mere moments later. Toji only used that as lubricant, his movements quicker against your cunt to chase his own release.

"There's no one else for me, I'll stop goin' to t-the casino, stop gettin' into trouble," Toji had been reduced to a babbling the first thing he pulled out of his ass, if only to get you to stay. His head rested against the junction of your neck, basking in the remnants of proximity that he could get. Shaky breaths left his lips with each thrust of his hips, feeling himself getting closer and closer. "You've been saying that since we've been married."

"I mean it this time, I promise," you'd never heard a lie sound so pretty slipping from someone's lips before until now.

He bit down on the side of your neck, hard. Not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to where you'd probably have to use a tube of concealer to even attempt to cover up the bruising mark. Causing you problems even now. But you'd be lying if the sudden act of possessiveness had your walls clenching against him even tighter, if that was even possible anymore.

His cock was barely moving against the tight grip you held around his shaft, his pace stuttering. "Fuck, fuck, so tight," Toji let out a loud groan, completely at the will of your pussy. He threw his head back, a light shade of pink dusting his cheeks in this lighting. Ropes and ropes of cum decorated your cunt, his softening length snug inside of you. Toji ended up pulling out a couple moments later, scooping the drops of cum that leaked down your thighs with his finger.

Toji was shameless in the way that he stuck the finger in his mouth, a low moan leaving his lips at the combined taste of him and you. Before your rationality came back, before you got the chance to even think about regretting this, you leaned in and crashed your lips against his own. Tasting yourself on his tongue. The kiss lingered between the two of you more than it needed to, it was less rushed than the prior ones you'd shared.

Like a last taste.

"So, you still want to get that divorce?" Toji knew you would've just babbled whatever for him to keep going, saving the question until now. His movements were almost reluctant as he pulled his pants over his legs once again, making little attempt to fix up his hair. If anything, his fingers only ended up messing the strands even more. Despite knowing the answer deep down, Toji still held out hope. That maybe you'd had some eye-opening moment while he was balls-deep.

You stood up properly, looking over at the ruined sheets on the table before looking back over at him. "I do," you spoke after a couple seconds, grabbing your tattered panties from the floor and smoothing over your dress. Trying to maintain whatever semblance of dignity you had left. Even if it was probably just as tattered up as your underwear at this point.

"Why? You know I love you. You know that you love me. So why should we get separated?" You did know that. But you also weren't sure that he'd ever loved you enough to consider changing. To consider the fact that you needed some sort of affection outside of sex.

"Because you think that somehow every problem between us can be resolved with sex. You say that you want to do better and yet, you never do. It doesn't even feel like you're my husband half of the time," all the bottled up feelings from the past couple months spilled out of you in a manner of seconds. All the bottled up thoughts that maybe you should've told your husband about earlier. Though, you weren't even sure if Toji would've paid it any mind.

And almost as if he'd read your train of thought, "Why didn't you tell me about all this before just hittin' me with divorce papers?"

"Because the few times that I did, you told me to stop bitching. That I shouldn't have anything to complain about with a roof over my head and a fridge full of food," you started off, almost waiting for him to deny what you were saying, "And while I'm not saying that I'm not thankful for those things, I also don't want to feel ungrateful for saying that I miss my husband."

Silence lingered between the two of you, each second that passed by only confirming what the two of you already knew by now. That a divorce wasn't such a far-fetched idea. Toji knew there wasn't left to even attempt fighting for, so he simply just told you, "I'll sign 'em when you get the new ones."

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xiaominghao · 3 days ago

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Too early for Christmas

Genre: fluff, crack ??

Pairing: Minghao x reader.

Warnings: barely proofread, this was funnier in my head, babygirl Minghao.

Yuin's note: At first I thought about writing this for Mingyu but the idea of Hao being such a loser was more apealing (I'm sorry Hao).

Hao, is that you?” you asked loudly, the front door had slowly closed and you didn’t hear anything else. There was no response. “Minghao?”

You heard a sound coming from the living room and thinking it was the TV or some video, you overlooked it. However, it was a little strange how quiet he was. As you walked toward the living room, Minghao was facing away from the kitchen entrance, right in front of the Christmas tree that was in the corner.

You cleared your throat to get his attention, and that made him shrug, slightly turning his head and giving you an awkward smile.

“Hello, darling,” he said in a trembling voice, “I didn’t know you were home.”

“Hi…” you greeted slowly, suspecting that something was going on. “Yeah, well. I just came to say that lunch is almost ready, can you help me with…?”

You heard the same noise as before, loud and clear. It was a bark and sounded very close; you glanced towards the TV but it was off, then looked back at Minghao, who swallowed hard as he gave you an even more awkward smile.

“Hao…” you stared at him seriously, crossing your arms. “Please tell me it's not what I think it is.”

He turned completely towards you, his head bowed as if he were guilty of something while cradling to his chest a small puppy with a large red bow tied around its neck.

He slowly lifted his gaze and swallowed hard, you stood there with your arms crossed and both eyebrows raised. “Um… Merry Christmas?”

“It’s too early for Christmas,” you replied, stepping forward defiantly, making him shrink back a little more.

“Merry… Christmas Eve?”

“Hao…”

He sighed deeply and straightened up firmly, giving a more serious air, as he usually does.

“Alright, I’m sorry. I know I was the one who said ‘no pets in the apartment,’” he defended calmly, but suddenly his expression changed. “But how could I say no to these little eyes and these tiny paws!?”

“Who are you and what have you done with my boyfriend!?” you exclaimed, pointing your finger at him. “Xu Ming Hao wouldn’t be swayed like that!”

“Surprise, he did!”

“Get out right now and return it!”

“No!” Hao frowned as if you had said the most offensive phrase in the world, hugging the puppy like a spoiled child protecting his toys. “She was given to me by a sweet old lady who was giving puppies up for adoption. I promised I would take good care of her.”

“I’m sorry,” you crossed your arms again, not wanting to back down. “I can’t promise that.”

Hao tilted his head a little and with pouty face, he looked you straight in the eyes. “Would you do it for me?”

Your pulse quickened a little, your chest tightened. You still stood there with a straight face, but you didn’t feel as firm as before; you were really weak when it comes to him, too much to admit it.

Hao moved a little closer and gently tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Would you do it for me?” His voice low and sweeter than ever.

Seeing that you weren’t saying a word, he brought his face just inches from yours, his lips almost brushing against yours. “Would you do it for me?”

You swallowed hard and shyly turned away, averting your gaze so he wouldn’t see how flushed your face was and a loud growl escaped from your lips. “What name should we give her?”

Hao approached you and happily kissed your face repeatedly; he was feeling like the happiest man in the world. You were still a bit annoyed but seeing him so smiley made your heart ache in love.

“You’re an idiot,” you murmured, turning your back to him.

“And you’re hopelessly in love with me,” he whispered in your ear, hugging you from behind to give you a little kiss on the shoulder. “Now, shall we lunch?”

“Sure, just let me… Why does my slipper feel cold?”

Both of you looked down, and the puppy was sitting by your foot, staring at you intently.

“Hao…”

He sighed to stifle a laugh. “Leave it to me.”

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peachiejeongin · 1 day ago

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Christmas with Stray Kids! | OT8

Day 12 of the 12 Days of Staymas!

Synopsis: Scenarios on spending Christmas with Stray Kids!

Pairing: ot8!SKZ x reader

Genre: Fluff!

Warnings: None!

Notice: On the twelfth day of Staymas, PeachieJeongin got sad because this is the end of the Christmas fictions :( Nevertheless, my loves, I hope you all have enjoyed this "series" as much as I have! This may or may not be an annual writing, so stay tuned for next year ;) Without further ado, enjoy the headcannons and have a holly, jolly Christmas! XOXO, PeachieJeongin :)

Bang Chan:

・❥ Chan is the type to wake up early on Christmas morning, eager to make the day special!

・❥ You would wake up to the faint scent of coffee or hot chocolate he has already prepared, along with a cozy Christmas breakfast spread of pancakes, bacon, and perhaps a few festive treats.

・❥ Before the two of you open presents, Chan would insist on staying in pajamas all morning; preferably, he would want to wear matching pajamas in a Christmas-esque pattern.

・❥ Chan is a thoughtful gift-giver. He would choose presents that reflect how much he listens to you and how well he knows you. Expect things that feel incredibly personal, like a handmade scrapbook filled with his favorite memories of your relationship or a custom necklace engraved with something meaningful.

・❥ He would also give you something practical that makes your life easier, such as a cozy heated blanket or a technological gadget you have been eyeing.

・❥ To top it off, there would be a fun or silly gift to make you laugh, like a plushie of your favorite animal, a gag gift referencing an inside joke, or an over-the-top designed sweater.

・❥ After opening gifts, he would suggest cozying up on the couch for a little while, basking in the "Christmas energy," as he claims. Truly, it is just a rooze to get you to cuddle with him before it is time for Christmas dinner.

・❥ For Christmas dinner itself, he would go for something simple, yet meaningful. He would opt for a homemade dinner where you both cook together. You would laugh and taste test as you go, sneaking kisses between stirring pots and setting the table.

・❥ If you are celebrating with the rest of Stray Kids, Chan would take on the role of the mediator, as he always does. He would make sure everyone is happy, fed, and enjoying the day!

・❥ Overall, Chan on Christmas is warm, thoughtful, and full of love. He always makes sure the day is as magical for you as it is for him.

Lee Know:

・❥ Lee Know is not the type to wake up super early, but once he is up, he is all in for Christmas!

・❥ You would likely wake up to him snuggling closer, and you would make a cheeky comment like, "I think Santa came, Minnie." He would just snuggle closer to you, mumbling something like, "Five more minutes."

・❥ When he does eventually get up, he would play it cool, but you would catch him stealing glances at the Christmas presents, anxious to open all of his gifts.

・❥ Expect a breakfast that is more indulgent than normal; he would whip up something simple yet delicious, like French toast or waffles, with extra whipped cream or powdered sugar. He would claim he made it so sweet so you could feel the hyperactivity of the holiday.

・❥ Lee Know's gifts are carefully chosen; he would get you something you have mentioned in passing, like a piece of clothing, a skincare set, or a hobby related item, which shows you that he is always paying attention even if you believe he is not.

・❥ He would also get you something small but incredibly personal, like a framed photo of the two of you or a handwritten letter.

・❥ If you are a pet lover, his cat dad instincts would kick in. His gift may include something adorable for your pet, such as a sweater or chew toy. If you do not have a pet, he would get you a plushie that looks suspiciously like one of his cats.

・❥ If you gave him a heartfelt gift, he would act nonchalant at first, but later, you would catch him looking at the gift longingly and smiling when he thinks you are not looking.

・❥ In true Lee Know fashion, this boy would tease you all day long, especially about how excited you are for Christmas. He would make comments about you being like a child, but he would secretly light up whenever he saw you enthusiastic about the day.

・❥ Christmas dinner is important to Lee Know. If it is a family or group gathering, he would be a little reserved but still attentive, making sure you are comfortable and sneaking you brief smiles across the table.

・❥ If it is just the two of you, he would either cook a traditional meal by himself or suggest ordering something from a nice restaurant. He just wants to avoid having to clean up a huge mess in the kitchen at the end of the night.

・❥ Lee Know on Christmas is equal parts playful and tender, balancing his tease with moments that remind you of his gentle care.

Changbin:

・❥ Changbin would sleep in a little later than usual, only because he stayed up late on Christmas Eve finishing up last-minute wrapping.

・❥ He would wake up excited, bouncing out of bed and immediately shaking you awake screaming, "It's Christmas!" before dragging you to the living room like a little kid.

・❥ Presents first, breakfast second. He would watch intently as you opened your presents, grinning from ear to ear at your jolly reactions.

・❥ Changbin's gifts reflect his personality: thoughtful but funny. He would most likely get you something entirely surprising, like a pair of concert tickets or a surprise weekend getaway to a city you have been wanting to travel to.

・❥ If you are into fitness, he may gift you some cool workout gear so you can train together.

・❥ He would also spoil you with cozy items, like oversized hoodies or fluffy blankets, for whenever you feel like having a lazy day.

・❥ No matter the gift you got him, he would be genuinely touched. His reactions may be a bit over-the-top depending on the present, but if they come from you, he would love them nevertheless.

・❥ Changbin would probably suggest building a gingerbread house together, which would turn into a chaotic mess of icing fights and him eating half of the candy before it can even reach the house (see Frosting Feuds for reference ;) )

・❥ If you are having Christmas dinner with family or friends, he would be the life of the party, cracking jokes and making everyone laugh while including you in all of the fun.

・❥ If it is just the two of you, he would suggest ordering out because the day has worn him out, even though all he has done is open gifts, and he does not feel like cooking.

・❥ While waiting for the food, Changbin would delve into discussion about his favorite childhood Christmas memories, bringing a soft and nostalgic vibe to the evening.

・❥ After dinner, Changbin would insist on a movie marathon. He would pick classics, such as 'Elf' or 'Home Alone.'

・❥ He would absolutely fall asleep in your arms during the movies, mumbling to himself about how this was the best Christmas ever.

Hyunjin:

・❥ Hyunjin would wake up slowly, a way to savor the magic of Christmas morning. He would pull you close, mumbling something about how sweet it is to spend the holidays together.

・❥ He would suggest that the two of you sleep for just a little longer; after all, you have the whole day, so why rush it?

・❥ Once awake, he would take his time preparing a cozy breakfast for both of you; it would most likely be something artistic, like perfectly plated fruit or pancakes/waffles decorated with powdered sugar that he would call "snow."

・❥ He is not the type to rush into opening gifts. He would want to sit by the fireplace at first, taking in the morning's moment before unwrapping presents.

・❥ Hyunjin's gifts would be deeply sentimental and emotional. He would probably create something, such as a painting inspired by a favorite memory together or a hand-drawn card with a heartfelt letter inside.

・❥ His gifts would also be on the luxurious side. He would spoil you with a piece of jewelry or an elegant bag that he picked out specifically to suit your style.

・❥ He would absolutely want to do something creative, like designing Christmas cards for family members and friends or painting a festive scene together.

・❥ If you are not as artistic, he would guide you, holding your hand as you attempt to paint, and laughing softly when it turns out a little messier than intended.

・❥ Hyunjin would enjoy planning a more intimate dinner for just you two, complete with soft lighting, a festive playlist, and an attempt to cook something fancy.

・❥ If you are celebrating with others, he would focus intently on you, making sure you feel included in the festivities.

・❥ To end the night, Hyunjin would also insist on a cozy photoshoot, making sure the lighting is solemn yet soft before taking a mix of sweet and silly photos to comemorate the day.

・❥ As you doze off beside him, he would sketch a scene of the Christmas tree quietly, inspired by the perfection of the day. He would give you the work in the morning when he was done, claiming it to be a late present.

・❥ Christmas with Hyunjin would be full of beauty, warmth, and sentimentality, making you feel as if you are living in a fairy tale.

Han:

・❥ Han would wake up early, practically vibrating with excitement. He would hesitate to wake you up, though, instead amusing himself by scrolling through his phone or singing carols under his breath.

・❥ Eventually, his impatience would win, and he would gently poke your cheek, whispering, "It's Christmas!" until you groggily join him on the enthusiasm.

・❥ He would race to the Christmas tree like a little kid, eagerly pulling you along, and insist on opening presents right away, barely able to contain his curiosity about what you got him.

・❥ You would literally have to remind this boy that he has to eat breakfast first...

・❥ Speaking of, breakfast would be haphazard but fun, like snowman-shaped pancakes.

・❥ His reactions would be over the top, with loud gasps, dramatic "thank yous," and a goofy grin plastered on his face.

・❥ Han's gifts would be quirky but reflective. He would most likely compose a song, comprised of lyrics about your relationship and including funny memories in some of the backup vocals.

・❥ He would also throw in something silly, like a novelty mug with a cheesy joke. It would come with a heartfelt explanation like, "This reminds me of when you..."

・❥ Han would surprise you throughout the day with little "pranks" throughout the day, like putting a large, ridiculous bow on his head and declaring himself your "best Christmas present."

・❥ If you are celebrating with friends or family, Han would bring the energy, making jokes and overall being Han! He would also brag about your cooking skills, even if you were not the one who made the meal.

・❥ If it is just the two of you, he would suggest ordering out because, "It's Christmas! We shouldn't have to cook!" You would end up feasting on your favorite comfort foods while sitting on the couch in your pajamas.

・❥ Han would absolutely initiate a mini concert in the living room, pulling out a guitar, or using anything he could find as a microphone, and performing hilarious dramatic reenactments of Christmas classics.

・❥ Han's Christmas would be full of energy but just as sentimental.

Felix:

・❥ Felix would wake up early, but would not rush you. Instead, he would take a moment to admire how peaceful you look while sleeping, grateful that he gets to awaken next to you on Christmas.

・❥ When you finally stir, he would great you with a soft, "Merry Christmas, my love," and a warm hug, burying his face in your neck for a few extra seconds of coziness.

・❥ You would wake up to the smell of freshly baked breakfast treats, such as cinnamon rolls, since Felix would have started his day in the kitchen to make a perfect, festive breakfast.

・❥ Before opening presents, he would insist on savoring breakfast together by the tree, wrapping you both up in a large, fluffy blanket while you eat and sip hot chocolate.

・❥ Felix's gifts would be nothing short of heartfelt. He may knit you a scarf or bake you a tin of cookies decorated with your favorite colors or movie characters.

・❥ He would also spoil you with something expensive, yet practical, like a high-quality sweater or a charm-bracelet.

・❥ As a playful touch, he would add in something nostalgic, such as a plushie or game you loved as a child, just to see your face light up with joy.

・❥ Felix would be incredibly thoughtful if you are celebrating Christmas in a group, making sure everyone feels comfortable and full from the food.

・❥ If it is just you two, he would go all out in the kitchen, preparing a fancy, yet comforting meal. He would plate it like a chef on a cooking show, grinning proudly as he sets the table in front of you.

・❥ At some point, Felix would set up his gaming devices for a "cozy gaming session." He would pretend to go easy only to get hilariously competitive halfway through a round of Mario Kart.

・❥ He would absolutely sneak up behind you at random moments to softly kiss you, cheekily commenting how he "though he saw mistletoe."

・❥ Before bed, Felix would get sentimental, holding your hands in his and thanking you for making the holiday so special. He may even tear up slightly as he tells you how much he cherishes you.

Seungmin:

・❥ Seungmin would wake up at a reasonable hour, greeting you with a sleepy but soft, "Merry Christmas," and immediately teasing you for being more excited than him.

・❥ He would prefer to start the day with breakfast before presents, even if it is something simple such as toast and coffee. He would probably prepare it himself and plate it carefully.

・❥ Seungmin would be methodical with presents, opening one at a time and paying close attention to your reactions as you open his gifts.

・❥ His gifts would be endearing mixed with applicable. He would get you something you have been needing or casually mentioned wanting months ago, showing how he remembers the smallest of details about you.

・❥ He would have a singular gift referencing an inside joke just to make you chuckle, as well.

・❥ He would have a subtle, proud smile if you love what he got you, but he would still find a way to cheekily make fun, saying "Of course you like it. I have taste."

・❥ If you suggest singing Christmas songs together, he would roll his eyes but eventually cave. His voice would be so beautiful and warm that you would stop singing just to listen, making him blush as he asks why you are staring at him.

・❥ Seungmin would keep dinner simple but cozy. If it is just the two of you dining, he would prefer a homemade meal, perhaps working together to cook. He would also sneak tastes of whatever you are making and pretend to judge your technique.

・❥ If you are with friends or family, he would be polite and a little reserved, but would sneak glances your way, smiling softly whenever your eyes meet.

・❥ He would insist on a proper dessert as well, such as pie, cake, or cookies, teasing you if you felt too full to eat sweets.

・❥ Seungmin would want to spend the evening quietly. He would suggest reading a book together, playing a board game, or watching a holiday movie.

・❥ Honestly, most of the day would be spent besides the Christmas tree or fireplace; Seungmin loves the soft glow of either reflecting in your eyes as you ramble about whatever that day.

・❥ Before bed, he would pull you into a warm hug, resting his chin on your head and whispering, "Thanks for making today so perfect. Just don't snore too loud tonight."

Jeongin:

・❥ Jeongin would wake up early, excited but attempting to act calm about Christmas morning. He would lean over to check if you are awake, and casually ask, "So are we doing presents or what?"

・❥ He would practically drag you out of bed and over to the tree, insisting you both wear Santa hats or something festive for the "full Christmas experience."

・❥ Honestly, this boy would forget all about breakfast.

・❥ His gifts are a mix of heartwarming and goofy. He would get you something meaningful, like a keepsake that ties into a favorite memory. For example, if one of your first dates was a concert, he would get you a laminated version of the concert ticket.

・❥ He would also include something trendy or fashionable, like a cozy sweater or a new pair of sneakers that he thinks would look amazing on you. Bonus points if it matches his own style so you can coordinate outfits.

・❥ There would be the playful side to his gifts as well, like a quirky gadget or something silly he knows will make you cackle.

・❥ At some point in the day, he would pull out his phone to record a short vlog of the day's highlights, grinning as he says, "I want to remember this Christmas forever."

・❥ He would absolutely sneak a surprise gift under the tree that he would not let you open until the very end of the day. It would be a small present, but just as meaningful, like a handwritten note or a necklace that symbolizes your time together.

・❥ He would also spend part of the day FaceTiming or texting his family to keep up with them on the holiday! He would even pass the phone your way so they can say hello to you.

・❥ If you are with friends or family, Jeongin would charm everyone with his bright and easygoing nature. He would probably sneak his way into grabbing extra helpings of certain dishes due to his kind, innocent personality.

・❥ If it was an independent sort of Christmas, Jeongin would want to make the meal fun and stress free. Whether it is ordering takeout or making a simple comfort food, he would prioritize time together over a fancy tradition.

・❥ Before bed, Jeongin would snuggle up to you by the fireplace, wrapping an arm around you and declaring that this was the best Christmas of his twenty-three years.

---

Taglist:@velvetmoonlght, @amararosesblog (If you would like to be added to the taglist, please let me know!)

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astracora · 2 days ago

Text

The Cat Curse - MC Edition - Chapter 2

Characters: Sylus x gn!mc (poly lads)

Warnings: Some hurt/lots of comfort, semi-canon compliant heart condition, spoilers for current story release (Small mentions of Sylus bond up to 102 and all of Sylus' currently released content), small references to the other boys stories.

Word Count: 4391

Written: 24th December 2024

Notes: New relationship Sylus/MC-centric but poly LADs (this time with group chat), with my personal pov of the game and lil headcanons littered in. Unnamed MC, but using my personal MC's basic appearance and adjusted backstory. I take some liberties with what the game offers me.

Now Playing: Freaking Me Out, By Ava Max

Masterlist

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Sylus is nothing if not driven. Once he has a task, he will carry it out, and finish it. Sometimes his drive scares you, because he seems to be unperturbed by everything, no fear and no hesitation.

So after you've eaten and slept, curled up in the safe cage of his arms, and feel less like the outside world wants to sink its blooded fangs into you... he drags the both of you back to the cafe.

It's late at night and it shouldn't be open, but rules have never been set with Sylus, and he ignores them at will. Especially, you're learning, when it comes to you. Thankfully an OTTO is still floating about the place, and answers your questions...

Kind of.

"I stress THEM out? They cursed ME!" You grind your teeth as the two of you leave the cafe. When the boys had been cursed, they'd had to work their sentence... you had been told, none too kindly, that the cats would be more stressed by your presence.

More stressed by you. Than Sylus. A man who used to pick them up with his mist and hiss back at them if they annoyed him.

All you'd done was pet them, maybe... hold on for too long to your chest. For two straight hours... even when it began to wriggle. You glare at the man beside you who is chuckling to himself at your hissing, "All I did was cuddle them!"

"They're overworked and underpaid, kitten, what do you expect?"

You hiss again, low at the back of your throat and sniff, turning your head away and walking steps ahead of him. "You're enjoying this." It comes out with more venom than you mean it to, and you halt as he takes your hand, quickly to pull you back, easing the tension out of your spine with a large warm hand.

"Not when you're in pain, kitten." Your tail droops and you sniff him, slumping against him, "You just have to hold out, you're not going to do it alone."

You're not one for being affectionate in public, you'll hold hands, but that took a while to get you there, and you'll sometimes lean and cling to arms when you've had a little to drink, but anything more was new... and you were private. Worn out, though, you find comfort from Sylus' presence and fall into his arms easily now. A little safer, a little less on edge, knowing he will not let anything hurt you.

"Plus," his uneven heart beats against your ear, "I quite like your new attachments. They're honest."

You blink up at him, just as you feel his fingers rub at the base of your tail.

It's a jolt of pure hot lightning right up your spine, arching up, butt pushed into his hand chasing it, hand tightening in his shirt, and a moan, more like a purr, escapes you. Embarrassment hits then, and you cover your mouth quickly, fleeing his hands.

Sylus' eyes are wide as they stare at you. Molten and captivated, and his cheeks have a small tinge of pink. He looks down at his hand for a moment, then back at you, "Like that." He says on an exhale, but his voice is a little shakier than you're used to, and you aren't sure how to respond.

He takes your hand from your mouth, and entwines your fingers, leading the two of you back to your apartment, but he looks at you with a canine peaking out of his lips and leans in to husk in your head, "Information to be filed away for later."

----------

You're sulking, well. Almost. He was cooking, trying to make something more substantial for you to eat. If you were fed, rested and watered, he knew the overstimulation would be easier to manage. You had asked him if you could help...

"Are you going to get fur in the food?"

You'd blinked, looking down at the tail swishing behind you, kicking up long fur wherever it went, and ducked your head, "I... can't promise I won't."

He'd kissed the top of your head, and sat you down at the counter, away from his food prep, and with your music quietly playing in the background. He's used to you chafing if you can't be useful, worrying at the edges of your heart to earn something. He's tried many things in the past, offering deals in return for things he wishes to give you, bribing you for time spent, trying to make it a transaction you can calculate evenly.

At the end of the day, he was just putting a plaster on the issue. You just had to accept he loved you, and wanted to do things for you.

"Just keep me company."

You'd nervously nodded, and sat watching him for a while, before speaking, "What was having a tail like for you?"

The knife almost clatters out of his hands, he catches it in mist before it truly leaves it, and rights himself as quickly as he can. A second, but a second too long. He looks over at you, your head titled, ears pointed straight up, flicking towards him to catch anything he might say.

"My tail?" He clarifies, because he knows memories aren't easily gained back... and truthfully part of him doesn't actually want you to gain them back. He worries about who you are now, and how you'd handle the influx. Betrayal and hurt. Revenge that drove you into the arms of a fiend. There was good in your heart then, but it had been crushed out quickly in favour of a weapon for corrupt zealots. He doesn't want to see the you, while flawed and still hurting, crushed of the good in you now. Yet another little treacherous part of him... it wants you to remember every moment that you spent teaching him love. He wants you to remember the name you gave him.

It's a small part though, because you're here, now, and you love him still.

"Yeah, when they cursed you. You seemed to-" you grab your tail and try to shove it under your leg to stop its movement, "control yours better than Raffy or me."

He relaxes, nods a little to himself and resumes his work, "You and the fish aren't honest enough, the tail's working overtime." He catches you blink, look down at yourself and then frown, before adding, "I just got used to mine because I had to, I suppose." It's not a lie. He had to learn quickly... and alone, and even then it wasn't quick enough.

He just can't tell you that it was the scaled tail that taught him. You have to get there on your own, if you ever do.

"So if I'm more honest, it will calm down?"

He chuckles, "Heart and soul, Kitten."

You run your fingers through the end of your tail and sink into silence, so he leaves you be. Your mind is a place he wishes he could explore without hurting, he's used his evol on you once, at the very start... he has no intentions of digging anymore. Pain is not something he wants to inflict on you, he wants to offer you every desire and all the world's pleasure. So he waits for you to share insights into the workings of your mind, even if those insights baffle and confuse him... more than they help build the puzzle of you that he keeps in his chest.

He flicks through the recipe he’s following, to make stew, and sees the notifications on the group chat popup. Then hears soft laughter from you, when he reaches a point where he just has to watch the pot, he opens his phone.

He catches the apple you throw at him with ease, chuckling to himself as he puts his phone back down, stirring the pot. “See, kitten?”

You fidget in your seat, looking up at him with wavering eyes, guilty but there’s a glimmer there. “Yeah. I do.” He watches you, as you stroke your tail with your hand, head tilting, “I hope this doesn’t happen again, but if it does, I’ll tell you.”

Sylus doesn’t respond, he simply nods, and gets back to helping feed your hunger, as well as your heart.

—————

Sylus knows the nature of a tail fairly well, his own before was a great tool and a weapon. In it’s, and his, kinder moments, it was a good way to hold you close to him. Feel your heart beating under scales. An action that seemed possessive by nature, rather than soft, as using his hand might have been. Even with his claws. His rarely betrayed him, except for when it curled around you when he was tired and sought your greedy soul pressed to his, but yours… it betrays your emotions constantly.

It is a constant warmth around his wrist, or his ankle, or his waist. Whichever is closest or easiest to reach. He’s not used to you being so honest with your body, it is your words, forced through a tight throat, that explain your feelings mostly. This is a change. It’s not unwelcome, though you frown everytime you realise what is happening. Grabbing at the betraying limb, and trying to keep it contained.

He’d eased your hand away, rubbed at your knuckles with his thumb, and shook his head. Allowing you to seek out the comfort you needed, though your hand had still twitched to pull it back, eventually you had stopped trying to fight it. Relieved everytime your tail touched his skin and grounded you.

Sylus wants to touch your ears. It seems only fair, after you pet his. Disgruntled and pleased as he was for you to send jolts of lightning down his spine and through his skin. Sylus believes, you owe him one. Just this once. He’s been avoiding them for a while, whenever he touches you, as he soothes your skin with his touch. If he brushes your tail it is light, pressing too heavy results in your back arching and moans out of your mouth that make him feel dry mouthed and starving.

He’s seen many cats, he has lovingly called you kitten for a long time. Curious and chaotic, though prone to scratching and hissing to protect yourself. He’s pet cats in the street, seen them pleased and rubbing themselves against him at the right pressure between the ears.

He wants to see you like that.

You relax, tail flicking, curling and twitching. He lies with you, watching a movie on the too small television in your apartment. The volume is low enough your ears don’t constantly swivel, and he has better hearing than most anyway. You lay on him, as you watch, head pillowed against his chest, and irregular heartbeat under your ear.

As you focus, humming along to one of the songs, he reaches gentle hands to your hair. First soothing strands, and then rubbing at the base of your ears. The keen he gets in response, and the way you bite down on the fabric of his shirt, makes him twitch. Overheated even for him. For a moment, you look like you’re debating running away. Tail upright, ears pinned, eyes spearing him. “I’m not going to hurt you.” He promises into the side of your head, and it’s one of the truest things he’s ever said. Cherish you, and devour you, but he won’t hurt you. You are the one who can hurt him, after all, and how glad he is for that certainty.

Your tail lays back down, and this time you nuzzle into his hand, “I trust you.” A song he never thought he’d hear from your lips when you were reacquainted. It sings into his soul, and he takes his pleasure from yours. Petting his kitten, soothing your ears, scratching along your back and base of your tail. You wriggle atop him, unable to hold yourself back. Purring a storm against his chest, hand clawing at him like you’re trying to knead.

There is also the manner of your fangs. One hand traces the line of your cheek, brushing over your lips, and you bite at his fingers. Chasing them in your bliss. None too gently, but not enough to draw blood.

The shock snaps you back, and you apologise, but he’s staring at the marks on his finger with a thrum in his veins. Sparking in hunger. He tilts your head to look at him, and presses his fingers against your closed lips. “If you want the mark to stay, you have to bite harder.” Your eyes widen, blinking at him, but instead you open your mouth to lick his fingers. Moving to where you bit, and laving over it.

His skin prickles, itches, burns, aches. Pain is familiar, whatever you offer is always new. The movie is truly forgotten, as he returns the favour. His marks, however, will stick around for a few days at least. He notices, later, in his pleased haze… that there are some from you, right over his heart.

—————

You understand now why Sylus was grabbing at seagulls, something in your brain, an instinct you didn’t want, is urging you to watch birds. You want to swat and grab, and barely hold yourself back. The faster they move, the more they flap, the harder it gets to hold yourself back. Your balcony is the perfect place to watch them, warm under the sun, as your traitorous body clicks and hisses when they get too close. Alone in the apartment, while Sylus goes shopping for supplies, you have Mephie for company.

Who frankly… seems wary at best. He has offered you a feather to play with, as though that will appease you and keep you from trying to eat him. “I’m not going to bite you Mephie, I promise…” You can’t promise you wont swat at him though. It’s unnerving, having such little control over your impulses. You are relieved when he finally settles, and even more so when he joins you in your game. Moving your discomfort, and embarrassment into playful glee, as you both click and clack at visiting birds.

Eventually the game grows boring, fickle and done until you find something new to do. Mephie rests on your shoulder, and has taken to helping you groom the fur around your ears that blends into your hair. Soothing the mess and in return, you fuss beneath his wing. It’s hard to imagine the time you had met Mephie, and Sylus by extension, wary and full of hatred. Righteous anger snarling through your chest. Now they bring safety and comfort, and a feeling of coming home to roost.

Eventually the sun eases the both of you into sleep. You lay down with Mephie resting in the curl of your tail, and are nudged awake very gently. A hand holding your cheek and lips at your forehead. “Sy-” You purr, waking slowly and pleasantly into his arms, “Hey.” Tired, you are always softer, not as aware of the world. Edges rounded. You nuzzle into his warmth, “Missed you.”

“Me too kitten. How are you feeling?” His answer is you forcing him to sit, as you climb into his lap, face in his neck and drifting back into the call of slumber. Big, lazy, feline, on the best bed you’ve ever found. You hear Mephie complain as his warm blanket disappears, and hear a huffed, “They’re mine, Mephisto.” But you’re comfortable, and warm, and sleep pulls you back under too quickly.

—————

There’s cat fur everywhere, and while you would love a pet cat, you didn’t realise just how bad the shedding would be. Admittedly you are a… very large cat. With very long fur. You cannot stop sneezing, you’re not allergic, you think, but the fur truly does get everywhere you look. Sylus chuckles as you rub at your nose, and after you’ve attached your prosthetic, the two of you get to cleaning.

Sylus is one of those people… you expect to have someone for everything. A cleaner, a chef, a personal valet. You’d realised that he was too untrusting, and every new person was a risk, better to minimise anyone who could cause trouble in his day to day. He’d learned languages to keep his deals contained, he had learned to cook, though you weren’t aware he mostly learned to do that for you, and he cleaned without complaint, because any task with you was worth doing.

Well, he mostly helped you. When he wasn’t finding new things around your apartment to look at, nosing his way through your belongings.

“What’s this?”

“A candle lamp.”

“This?”

“An old Christmas ornament.”

You rarely got to see this side of him, curious and poking around. You supposed he’d never really taken the time to look through your things. He’d definitely wanted to, you remember the first time he entered your apartment, nose flaring and eyes darting around. Like it was full of treasures, and he wanted to claim them.

Instead, he’d held himself back, and been careful not to touch anything, as though it was all fragile, and he was a destructive bull.

He soon plucked a photo album out of your book case, and started to flick through as you swept up a mountain of fur, “This is your family?”

You freeze, dropping the broom, clattering it across the floor. He walks over, hand stroking your head, “I-” You look at the album in his hands. It’s the old photo of you, Gran and Caleb. The same one that used to sit on your desk at work, before you hid it in a draw. The same one that sat in pride of place at Gran’s home… your home, before it was devoured by flames too.

You nod at him, unable to force words past your throat, and he looks at your shaking hand. “Show me?”

Part of you wants to say no. You don’t want to talk about them, your tail is bristled, kicking more fur up into the apartment… but you miss them, and you want him to understand. It’s easier if he understands. You can apologise a million times over for shooting him, but he has to understand what drove you wounded and angry and full of hate into his arms the first time.

So you let him lead you to the sofa, and open the album with him. It documents as much of your life as your memories can hold onto, though some photos are hazy, and when he asks about them, you can’t quite recall. Like there’s a fog around it. You remember parts. You remember that one is a birthday, You’re fifteen, but if he asked you for anything else, you’d only be able to tell him your family were there.

You remember more in your twenties, pointing out photos with college friends. Talking about reckless moments where you got into fights. There are photos of you with bruises on your face, arm around Caleb as you flash the camera a thumbs up. He’s rolling his eyes, but his hand is tight on your waist, like he’s scared to let go.

There’s a change at some point, where you decide you want to be a hunter, where the bruises are now focused around where you train. Where there’s more life in your eyes, a drive you never had before.

“I used to skip classes a lot, didn’t really see the point.” You point at one of the photos, grainy and hard to make out. You and friends in a club. You remember it being midday, you remember being told anything too strenuous could hurt your heart. You remember deciding you didn’t care, because everything was too short.

Sylus listens, arm around you, head on your shoulder. Looking down at captured moments of you. He’s steady, he’s familiar, and there’s no sense of fear, or of falling. It’s not biting at your heels to remind you that they’re gone. You know that intimately. Instead, you point out photos, and you tell him everything you remember about your family. The people who cared about you, despite how much work you were. Who pushed you to do something, to be better.

A photo of you post exams, the first time you wore your hunters uniform, photos of Caleb in his own uniform.

Photos of family meals.

It cuts off at some point. Recent, you think, and you stare at the empty pages. Since that day you’d had no interest in keeping recollections. In keeping up the collection of memories. Photos had become a habit to store, since you were a child. Caleb started it, thinking visuals would keep your memory more stable than the written word. Though he’d still helped you keep a diary.

It had stayed that way ever since. If you took photos, you could never truly forget… right?

There were so many things now, though, that you wanted to keep in your grasp. To never forget. As your fingers stroke the empty page, Sylus pulls his phone out and opens his photo albums. Flicking through the many things he’s saved. Almost all of you. A random lamb. The twins. Mephisto posing. Zayne with his cheeks stuffed with macarons. Raffy with paint on his nose. Xavi sleeping in the grass surrounded by flowers.

You hadn’t really noticed, how often the man next to you kept a record of the world around you. He points the screen at you, and tightens his hand on your waist. “We should get some more printed out. Fill all those empty pages. There’s a distinct lack of me in there, kitten.”

The laugh that escapes you is so wet with tears, you feel bad for it, but the heat in your chest is so precious… like a baby flame you have to nurse and protect.

He has a photo of you, Tara and Nero at the karaoke bar, where Skye made an appearance. Pleasantly tipsy, and far too into whatever horrible song you were singing. Probably very out of tune.

He settles, finally, on a photo of the five of you. A bad selfie, taken with a shaky hand, as Sy tried to get everyone’s heads in. Raffy has climbed Zayne’s back to stick his head into shot, Xavier has his chin on your shoulder, and Sylus has his arm outstretched as far as he can get it, and his arm around you. You’re happy.

You’re happy.

“You’ve been taking a lot.” You speak, and its wet and you sound like you’re going to cry… and truthfully you feel very close. It’s embarrassing and your nose feels weird, but you don’t know what else to do.

“Every moment is worth remembering, Kitten. Of course I have.”

Don’t forget me. Is unspoken.

Don’t stop loving me.

Don’t move forwards, and leave me behind.

You think, that even if you forget, even if you wake up one day not remembering his face. You’ll know his heart and his soul more intimately than you know anything.

Strong emotions, after all, are impossible to truly lose.

——————

“I want salmon.”

“Is that the cat speaking, or my kitten?”

You bat at his arm, fangs flashing at him, tail swishing. “Salmon!”

“Alright, alright.” He chuckles, ruffling your ears and your hair with one big hand, “I quite like you like this.”

Relying on him, you assume, or demanding? You’re not sure. He’s asked you to be greedy many times, to boss him around, to make demands of his time and his life. It’s hard to do, if you rely too much, you worry he’ll start to pull away.

You promised though, you promised.

It wasn’t just a promise to be honest and share your pain, it was a promise to really, truly trust him.

So, you hit his arm without force, “Salmon pasta!”

His laugh is delighted and delightful, and you want to hear it forever. Instead, you sit at the counter, pushing your tail under your leg so it can’t kick up a gust of fur. You’d just finished cleaning after all, and the idea of having yet another mountain of fur to get rid of, didn’t appeal.

“I want to help.” Your ears pinned back, and looking at him in frustration.

Sylus spares you a glance as he looks for one of the many recipes you’d sent him, not asking for them to be made, but excited to find time to try them, “When you’re not a furball, you can help.”

You might be offended, if he weren’t right. “Says the man who spits out feathers with his evol…”

“Not into your food though Kitten.”

You snort. No, into your bed, on your floor, in public places… your favourite cafe. All over his base. Sometimes he cleans them up himself.

Sometimes.

Though you have a few of his feathers saved, using them as bookmarks in books you never seem to find enough time to read. Shame the fur is more messy, you’d quite like feathers… or scales. Something that doesn’t leave you sneezing.

“I bought tickets to a botanical garden.” You look over at him, but he’s not looking at you. Moving through the steps he’s following on his phone, half humming to himself to the music playing at a low volume in the background. “If you feel like going?”

You look down at the tail that’s twitching under your leg, and then over at him again. This time he’s watching you, eyes bright. Eerie if you didn’t know him. Instead you think them a flame, a candle in the dark to lead you. Being out in the noise right now, scares you, but he is there. He will always take you somewhere safe if you need it, he would move mountains, and you can rely on him to help you when you need it.

It is not a weakness to need help.

It’s ok to cry, and be scared.

So you close your eyes, take a deep breath, and nod, “Yeah… yeah I’d like to go.”

You want to see roses with him.

You want to see the world with him.

His smile is small, but his eyes speak more than anything. Relief and happiness at your trust. Love shining in garnet. “Tomorrow then.”

Tomorrow.

A future, no matter how close ahead.

#wonder writes #love and deepspace #sylus #reader x sylus #sylus x mc #lads x mc #lads x reader #sylus x reader #lads #love and deepspace sylus #lads sylus #I HOPE UR PROUD OF ME THIS HAS MINIMAL ANGST #i love the group chat so much... i want to just do stupid messages with them all forever #smau #fake texts

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gingerteafairy · 2 days ago

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Hi Angel!!! I just discovered your account and I luvsss itt!! I was thinking maybe you can do A Todd x reader, where she is a popular girl and he is the same old loser? Idk if you would like it 😭 Keep up the great work! 💕

suree, i just love writing about my favorite loser. tysm for appreciating ❤️‍🩹

𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥 (𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐝 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

You need help in chemistry and luckily Todd Haynes is the monitor. You’re pretty sure you’re getting the cutest chemistry private lesson ever.

tags n warnings: smut,dom!reader,sub!todd,KINKS,cockwarming,aftercare,handjob, unprotected piv,pet names,cursing,he's such a nerd. word count: 3.7k

"How about we skip chemistry today?" Your friend Ally suggests, her eyes twinkling mischievously as she flashes you a grin that could light up the whole school. Her fiery red hair bounces as she tilts her head, clearly expecting you to be on board. "I’ve been dying to try out that new ice cream shop near my house."

Hailey, never one to resist fun, claps her hands together like she's just heard the best idea ever. "Yes! Let’s make it a full-on girls’ day!"

"Oh my God, Ally, that sounds amazing!" you say, practically bouncing on your toes. "I could really use some new mascara, too." You pause, suddenly thoughtful. "But... my chemistry grade might actually die if I skip today. And well, I was looking forward to today's class," you admit. "We’re mixing acids and bases to create colorful reactions. It’s like a science experiment with rainbow explosions. How fun is that?"

Ally raises an eyebrow, her mouth curling into a teasing smile. "Wow. You really are a nerd, huh?" she says, flipping her hair as she opens her locker and adjusts her pink tank top. "I can’t even remember the last time I paid attention to that bald guy’s lecture."

"I’ll share my notes later, silly girls," you tease, giving them both a wink and making a heart shape with your hands.

Hailey practically launches herself at you, wrapping you in a tight hug. "You’re the best!" she gushes. "I swear, you’re like an angel with a perfect GPA."

You laugh and hug her back, feeling warm and fuzzy. "Alright, alright. Enough with the mushy stuff. I’ll see you guys later, though!"

As you walk toward the chemistry classroom, you spot a group of boys hanging out near the lockers. Dave and Martin are laughing, but it’s the boy standing next to them that makes your heart do a little flip. You’ve seen him around school before, but today? He’s definitely caught your attention. He 's cute. Messy brown hair falls just above his chocolate doe eyes.

What really gets you is that every time your eyes meet, he quickly looks away like he wasn’t expecting you to notice. You smile to yourself, amused and a little flustered as you head into the classroom.

You barely hear the teacher’s voice when he starts talking. Your mind’s still stuck on the cute guy in the hallway. That’s when the door creaks open, and he walks in—trying to be all sneaky through the back. His sneakers squeak loudly, and you can tell he’s hoping no one notices him.

Your heart skips a beat when his eyes lock with yours. You can’t help it—you smile, and even throw in a little playful wink. He glances around, clearly checking if anyone else saw the exchange, then looks back at you. You lean back in your chair, mouthing a casual "Hey."

His face instantly turns a shade of red you didn’t even know was possible. You giggle softly, and he shyly points to himself, his voice barely a whisper. "Me?"

You nod, trying not to break into a full-on grin.

"Late again, Mr. Haynes," the teacher says, his voice dripping with annoyance.

"Sorry, Mr. White," the boy mutters, quickly stuffing his hands in his pockets. He glances up just in time to see you lightly tap the tip of your pen to your lips, pretending to concentrate on your notes, then shoot him a cheeky grin.

The teacher shakes his head, unimpressed. "You’re lucky you’re the class monitor. Sit down, Todd. Try not to act like you’re starring in your own spy movie, alright? You’re the only one who knows anything about this subject."

Todd. You finally know his name. How had you never noticed him before? And he’s the monitor? This could be your chance.

As he walks toward an empty desk, you lean over and whisper, your voice playful and sweet. "Hey," you say, catching his attention. "You wanna sit with me?"

He freezes for a second, eyes wide, like you just dropped a bomb. Then, realizing he’s in a classroom full of people, his voice cracks as he repeats, "What?" His cheeks instantly turn even redder. The teacher shoots him a warning glare, and he drops his voice, practically whispering now.

"Sorry! Um, sorry," Todd stammers, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck, looking around nervously but also a little excited. After a beat, he slowly walks over to the desk next to yours, trying to act casual but failing miserably. "I—I guess... if you don’t mind."

You watch as he sits down, and you can’t help but notice the faint blush coloring his cheeks. It’s so adorable. You’re so close you can smell the faint citrusy scent of his cologne. You tuck a lock of hair behind your ear, pretending to take notes as you steal glances at him.

Todd dives straight into the chemistry experiments, his focus sharp as he explains the reactions to you in the calmest, most effortless way possible. It’s like he’s been doing this forever. You almost forget you're in class—until your heart does that fluttery thing every time his eyes meet yours. You’re pretty sure you’re getting the cutest chemistry lesson ever.

"Thanks for… the seat, Y/N," Todd mutters, his voice barely audible. He glances at you for a split second, then quickly looks down at his desk, fidgeting with the books in his backpack like he’s trying to distract himself from how nervous he is.

You can’t help but smile at his awkwardness. "How’d you know my name?" you ask, walking beside him in the hallway, tilting your head playfully.

“Uh… I asked Dave,” he mumbles, clearly flustered. You lean in a little closer, pretending to be intrigued, though you’ve already heard him loud and clear.

You just can’t resist teasing him. After all, he's been adorable all day. You shift slightly, letting the sweet fruity scent of your perfume reach him. "Sorry, Toddy. What did you say?"

"Toddy?" His face turns brighter than a tomato, and he runs a hand through his messy hair like it could somehow make him less embarrassed. "I—I asked Dave for... the cute girl in chemistry class. He said you guys were friends since, like, elementary school."

Your heart skips a beat, but you play it cool. "Awww, you think I’m cute?" you ask, giving him a soft, sweet smile.

Todd’s face deepens in color. "I... I think you’re a table," he blurts out, then immediately hides his face in his hands, as if that could make his awkwardness disappear.

You blink, trying to process his words. "What?" you ask, laughing.

"You know, the periodic table," he stammers, his words tripping over each other. "Like... you're periodic... means you’re cute. Periodic... like... magazines for nerds and cute girls and, uh... forget what I said," he quickly adds, visibly relieved when he sees your bright smile.

You burst out laughing, and though your cheeks are starting to heat up too. You lean in a little closer, still giggling. "I think you're a total nerd—and I love it."

Todd looks at you, blinking in surprise, as if he didn’t expect you to respond that way. "A nerd?" he echoes, his voice low but with a hint of a smile.

"Yeah, a cute nerd," you tease, nudging him lightly with your shoulder. "One who apparently knows everything about chemistry."

He laughs, a soft, nervous chuckle that makes your heart flutter. "I just—uh—like to help. It’s kinda my thing. I helped Dave once and, I guess, it just stuck."

You raise an eyebrow, your head tilted playfully. "How about you help me? I really need to improve my grades," you say, teasing but with a mischievous smile.

“You serious?” Todd echoes, shifting on his feet as he tries to process what you’re asking.

“Totally." You say, your voice smooth like velvet, approaching him slowly and brushing your fingers over the lace of his hoodie. "I think you're the only one who can help me."

“Really?” he repeats, his eyes widening as he backs up toward the lockers, trying to distance himself while you come closer to tie his hoodie lace into a neat bow.

“Really.” You give him a reassuring smile, letting your hands slide down the sides of your body. "What about 4pm at my place? Is that okay?"

“Today?” He blinks, eyes widening like you’ve just dropped a bomb. “I’m free! I’ll help you. Don’t worry. Anytime you want.”

“I'm actually going shopping today...” You bite your lip, glancing him up and down with a teasing smile.

"Shopping? Oh, sure!" Todd chuckles nervously, face-palming himself. "Go have fun."

“Sure? But I want you, Toddy,” You pout dramatically, but can't help but giggle when you see him lean back against the wall, clearly trying to keep his cool.

“You want me?” He swallows hard, blinking rapidly like he’s trying to make sense of what you just said.

"Yes… I’ll wait for you, okay?" you confirm with a wink, before turning to walk down the hallway, blowing him a kiss. Thank God he didn’t see the goofy grin you’re sporting.

"Okay…" Todd breathes, leaning his head back against the wall, utterly dazed as he tries to process everything that just happened.

Todd went home and took the longest shower of his life, mentally preparing for the most important study session he’d ever had. He was certain he was going to need all the courage he could muster to survive the next few hours with you.

The doorbell rings, and you open the door to Todd, who freezes when he sees you in a t-shirt and tiny shorts that leave little to the imagination. "Hey, Toddy. Come on in."

You step aside to let him in, and he follows you up the stairs to your room, trying not to look at you as he climbs.

Once inside, you sit on the bed and open your notebooks. He follows you, sitting on the edge, with all his books spread out in front of him. "You're too far, sit closer," you ask.

Todd slowly scoots closer, his fingers brushing against yours as he settles down next to you on the bed. For a moment, neither of you speaks. You both glance at the open textbooks in front of you, but the words blur together. It’s almost impossible to focus with him so close.

You can feel the warmth of his body next to yours, the faint scent of his cologne mingling with the soft smell of your room. Every time you catch his eye, he looks away quickly, his cheeks tinged pink.

"Uh, so, um..." Todd stammers, trying to sound serious. "Do you, uh, want to start with the chemical reactions or the organic compounds?" His voice is a little too high-pitched, and you can't help but grin.

“Anywhere you want," you tease, your lips curling into a smile. You turn slightly toward him, your knee lightly brushing against his.

He looks at you, his eyes wide, as if surprised by the touch. "I—I didn’t even realize we were that close, sorry," he says, his voice barely a whisper.

You shrug, feigning nonchalance but secretly feeling your heart race. "Guess we’re just... naturally close," you tease, your hand lightly resting on the open notebook, but not really paying attention to the words. His fingers hover near yours, but he doesn't dare to move.

Todd's breath catches when you look at him, your face so close now that you can feel his breath. He murmurs, his voice soft, "I think we should—"

Before he can finish, you lean in just a little closer, your lips barely brushing his as you whisper, "We should what?”

He freezes, his body tense. "I… I don’t know. I was just thinking..." His words trail off as your faces inch closer, the air between you thick with the unspoken desire to kiss.

For a long moment, neither of you moves, just staring at each other, the world outside the room fading away. “Thinking…?” Your heart beats louder than ever, and you can almost hear his racing too.

Finally, unable to resist any longer, you close the tiny gap between you, pressing your lips to his softly. You pull away just a little, still close enough to feel the warmth of his breath on your skin. His eyes stay closed for a beat longer, like he’s savoring the moment.

"That..." Todd starts, his voice cracking slightly, "... that was... um... wow.”

“Kissing a teacher is kinda sexy.” You tease, biting your lip as you glance at him doing the same with his.

“Yeah, uhm… I think you're right.” He bubbled, not taking his eyes away from your glossy lips, unaware he was as glossy as yours.

“So… will you kiss me more or will you teach your periodic more chemistry?” You provoke, getting in all fours with your face in mere inches of his.

“God…” he breathes, eyeing your breasts under your shirt in the new position. “i…kiss. I wanna kiss you more. Can I?”

“Just kissing?” You tease even more, playing with his limits, just to see where it could get. “Or… do you wanna something more?”

“Fuck.” He curses, digging his fingers on the mattress to stay sure the moment is real and not part of his loser imagination.

You chuckle, pecking kisses on his face to his ear to simply whisper his name in pure sultry tone. “You wanna fuck?”

“No… I mean…yes, no…” He stammered, swallowing when you licked his Adams apple.

“Say what you want, Toddy.” You inquired, facing him.

“Please, don't call me like that…” he whimpers, touching your hand.

“Why?” You questioned, biting his earlobe as you jumped on his lap, straddling. He check his lap to catch if you're really pressing your pelvis on his forming bulge and you're fucking really good at it. “Oh, you're already that hard, Toddy bear?”

“Fuck, I'm sorry.” He shots before kissing your lips as a starving man, his grip firm on your hip as he drives his hands under your shirt to dig his fingers on the soft skin of your waist, gaining a mewl from you.

You wrap your arms around his neck, tangling your hands in his soft curls as you wiggle your hips in the jeans squeezing his hard cock. You push him onto the bed and he settles, laying his head on the pillow to watch you remove your shirt, revealing your hard nipples.

“No bra…” he hisses, anxiously waiting for you to remove your shorts without getting off the top of him. He grips your thigh, feeling how wet you are even through his thick jeans. “This can’t be real. It can’t… I’m a loser and you’re hot. No.”

“You’re hot, Todd.” You praise, lying on top of him to kiss him again. “Can’t you see how wet I am f’you?”

“You… you’re the hot one. Shit, you’re so fucking delicious.” He grunts as you grind on his member, keeping your hands on the bed. “m gonna cum if you move like that…”

“You can touch me, you know?” You whispered between the kiss, taking the boy's hand to your breasts, where he gave them a gentle squeeze, increasing the force a little when you bit his bottom lip.

"Perfect tits." He chuckles, squeezing them a little more as he kisses you.

"You can touch me here too, Toddy." You take his hands to your ass and he gives them a firm squeeze, also directing his hands to your core. "You can touch me wherever you want, baby.”

"Fuck, don't do that to me." He meows, letting himself be carried away by your permission and turning you over on the bed, holding you by the wrists. "I can't take it anymore."

You smile in surprise, resting your knee on his evident erection, feeling him tremble above you. "Do you wanna make me feel good, Toddy?"

"Yes, please." He grunts, shaking his head frantically. "I want it so bad."

“C’mere…” you breathe, opening your legs for the boy who promptly throws his shirt in some forgotten corner of the room and undoes his belt clumsily, as if he had forgotten how to do this basic function.

“Damn belt!” He mutters, making you laugh and help him with the belt, pulling down his pants and red boxers in one go.

“Uhm… you’re so big, Toddy.” You purr, wrapping your fingers around the boy’s hard, wet cock, giving a few pumps that made him melt in your hand with whimpers.

“That’s so g-good… you’re so good…” he whimpers, kissing you. He mutually puts his hand inside your panties, carefully circling your clit.

You grind against his finger, feeling an immense wave of pleasure just from this simple touch. The chemistry between you is immeasurable like the explosion you saw in class.

“I need you.” He asks through tears, and you can tell that you've never seen anything more pornographic than Todd Haynes desperate for relieve, removing his hand to remove your thin fabric.

He swallows hard, grabbing his cock to carefully direct the tip to your entrance. He pushes, feeling your walls stretch with his thick size, which makes you arch your back, in a unisson moan with him.

"So…tight." Todd murmurs, completely inside you without resistance by your completely soaked pussy. “you're so wet f’me.”

He begins the slow thrusts, memorizing every part of your pussy. Todd didn't want to cum, he wanted to live there forever, just like you wanted him all the time. Damn, he had no right to be so delicious, as well as to find your pleasure point so quickly.

"There, right there...God, this is so good, Toddy.” you moan, grabbing his hips with your legs, your breasts swaying as his thrusts increased.

“You're beautiful, you're so…fuck…perfect. I love you so much, so fucking much, m sorry, taking me so well” he babbled, giving sloppy fast thrusts, the skin slapping sounds echoing in the room. “this fucking tight pussy.”

“m gonna cum, m gonna cum.” you whine, shutting your eyes hard as you come undone in a loud moan, muffled by his kiss.

“Cum, please. Melt in my cock, oh fuck, please, cum in me. M gonna cum too.” He groans, digging on a deep thrust with his balls deep as his thick seed fills your womb with pleasure, your eyes on the back of your head. “m sorry f’ cumming inside.”

“that's okay, i'm on pills.” You comfort, ruffling his hair as he rests his head on the crook of your neck, giving a few pumps inside you til his dick softened inside.

“Can I stay here a little longer?” He asks with his puppy sparkling eyes at you. “It feels so good.”

“Okay. Let’s lie on our sides like this.” You suggest and you both comfort your bodies on the mattress, your hand reaching for the sheet under the pillow to cover you both.

“I think I have PE,” he jokes, making you laugh loudly. Todd smiles at the sound, his eyes lighting up as his hand gently runs through your messy hair, as if you were a masterpiece he couldn't take his eyes off.

“If that’s the case, I think I have it too,” you respond, pausing to meet his intense gaze. His eyes seem to melt into you, and in that moment, your heart feels as if it's slowly breaking into a thousand pieces, like a chocolate popsicle left out on a hot summer day. “When you said you loved me…”

“Oh shit, I’m sorry about that,” he interrupts, suddenly pulling away, but you reach out, pulling him back toward you. You kiss him slowly, savoring the warmth of the moment.

“Don’t apologize,” you whisper softly, your thumb gently tracing his cheek, trying to comfort him. “I like you. You don’t need to apologize for your feelings.”

“I already came too fast and now I’m telling you that I love you. I’m a total loser.” He laughs sadly, caressing your waist and back with his strong hands.

“You may be a loser, but you’re my loser.” You joke, kissing the tip of his nose.

“Damn, you’re so cute…” he mumbles, pulling you into a tighter embrace and leaning in to kiss you again, his lips lingering as he holds you closer.

Just as the kiss deepens, your phone rings, abruptly breaking the intimate moment. “Fuck, who’s calling at this hour?” you explode, reluctantly pulling away and reaching for your phone.

“Where are you? We’ve been waiting for you at the mall! Hailey’s dad already blocked her card,” Ally says in a rush, her voice tinged with panic, and you hear Hailey’s whiny voice in the background.

“Damn, the mall.” Todd exclaims, his face falling in realization. He immediately clamps his mouth shut, realizing he spoke too loudly, and looks at you apologetically.

“Ooh, who’s that?” your friend teases from the other end of the line. “Is it that cute guy from chemistry?”

“Shh!” you hiss, laughing softly. “He doesn’t need to know I have a massive crush on him.”

“Sorry, honey. You two go ahead and enjoy your date. There's still time for round two, you nasty kitten.”

“Go to hell, Alison,” you laugh, ending the call. You place the phone on the nightstand, sinking back into the soft, warm sheets, hoping to get back to the moment.

“Massive crush?” Todd repeats, his voice light and amused, a playful grin tugging at his lips.

“Don’t get cocky, Todd,” you tease, your eyes narrowing in mock warning. But your heart betrays you as you can’t help but smile. “Ah, who am I kidding? You’re such a sweetheart, my Toddy bear.”

“Of course, I’m gonna get cocky,” he responds with a confident laugh. “I’ve got a popular girlfriend now. I’m a loser, after all—this is basically the ultimate cliché.”

“Yeah, I think I can tolerate that,” you joke, rolling your eyes playfully as you remember the nickname. “You’re periodic.”

“You’re the most periodic of them all,” he retorts, his smile growing wider. He pulls you even closer, his hands resting lightly on your waist. “The most explosive element on my periodic table. I think I should isolate you—you're just too dangerous.”

“That was ridiculously cheesy,” you reply, playfully rolling your eyes before leaning in to kiss him softly. “But I think you can keep that element to yourself, since you’re my boyfriend now.”

“Damn, that was fast.” He laughs, tightening his arms around you as if trying to keep you close, a sense of warmth and happiness flooding over him. “Thanks, periodic girlfriend.”

taglist:

@ikkyfics

@cafekitsune divider

#kick ass fic #todd haynes x y/n #todd haynes x you #todd haynes x reader #todd haynes #kick ass imagine #evan peters x y/n #evan peters x you #evan peters x reader #evan peters fandom #evan peters fanfic #evan peters #x reader #reader insert #fanfic #imagine #dave lizewski

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