astro-tag-9 · 4 months ago
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hi could i get a feminine character please??
leo sun
sag rising
virgo moon/mars/mercury/jupiter
cancer venus
💙 Emily🖤
( The Corpse Bride )
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badgalbur · 7 months ago
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Aries szn finally among us 😈❤️‍🔥🎈 sexy ladies rise!
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blackbeautybaby · 7 months ago
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I eat boys
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atomic-apricot-art · 3 months ago
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Leo Season
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theaskew · 5 months ago
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Sara E. Caba (Spanish, lives and works in New York City), BestIAl S1, Photography, giclée on acrylic, 78.7 x 78.7 cm.
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alphabetboyluvr · 1 year ago
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danbi dog walking w/ tae sort of meet cute-type date vibes
🪩 WORDCOUNT | 700 (exactly!) 🪩 NOTE FROM HOLLY | so i kinda think they're impossible to have a meet-cute, just because danbi was sooooo anti-tae at the start. like she always knew he was interested and used to try soooo hard to pretend that she wasnt!!! plus if anyone is a man hater (complimentary <3) it's danbi!! I can't remember when, but i know it's mentioned earlier on in the story that tae had been at memorial park with dan so.... here u go!
🪩 BD DRABBLES MASTERPOST 🪩
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“Again?” Danbi sighs as she notices the man walking towards her up through the path of the Memorial Park.
She’d put her hands on her hips if either of them were free - but she’s currently got three dogs to each hand. The leads wrap around so tightly it’s a miracle her fingers haven’t fallen off yet.
Still, her facial expression conveys everything her body can’t - and yet Kim Taehyung has the audacity to stand there fucking smiling. 
“Fancy seeing you here!” He beams, turning on his heel to stop himself from walking on by. Doesn't miss a beat. Heads in the same direction as Danbi, now.
“Y’know, some people would consider this stalking,” she tells him with nothing but disdain. 
“See, I would agree,” Taehyung answers with contemplative arrogance. “But it’s funny - DB seems to reckon you’ve changed your route, recently?”
“Oh has she, now?” Danbi says, resisting the urge to curse you out. Loves you to death, but knows exactly what you’re doing. Begins to think that your joke about dressing up as cupid for Halloween isn’t really a joke.
“Mhmm,” Taehyung nods, hands in pockets. A little shy, but trying desperately hard not to be. “You used to do your walks down by the river, apparently.”
Danbi’s jaw is tense. Unwavering. “Sometimes a change of scenery is good. Gives the pups more mental stimulation. Different smells.”
“There are so many parks in the city,” he muses.
“Well I’ll pick a different one, once I’ve decided they’ve had enough of this one.”
“Maybe you should try the city forest,” Taehyung suggests. “The one by the last stop on line two. I go there pretty often, too.”
The narrowing of Danbi’s eyes only serves to make Taehyung smile. He’s learning pretty quickly which buttons of Danbi’s to press - and given how easy it is to wind her up, he doesn’t have to try particularly hard. 
It’s what he likes about her, though. She’s fiery. Ignites a little something inside him.
“My route choices have nothing to do with you.”
“No?” He challenges. “So why’d it change after you found out my studio overlooks Memorial Park?”
“Coincidence.”
“Y’know,” Taehyung smirks. “Some people would consider it stalking.”
If there’s one thing Danbi hates, it’s when men make her smile - and Taehyung is getting dangerously close to that. She has to nip this in the bud, or otherwise her mild-infatuation with him will inevitably grow, and she cannot let that happen.
She’s dated musicians. Dated pretty boys. Ones with egos. Knows that artists are even worse.
And the ones who look like Kim Taehyung? Nothing but trouble. She knows that as soon as her guard is down, some girl from his art school will end up back in his DM’s and then she’ll have to fight for his attention, which she refuses to do. Dreads to think of the notches in his bedpost. Doesn’t wanna have to look at the art he’s made from other muses.
Again, she’s dated men who are menaces before. Had songs written for other girls cosplayed as serenades for her (fuck you, Sanghyuk). Refuses to let it happen again.
Better to just fight with him. Easier that way.
She’s incapable of doing anything by half measures though, so hatred seems like the best course of action.
“With all due respect, Taehyung, I’m working,” she shrugs, picking up her pace.
“Let me help.”
“No.”
“I'm good with animals.”
“You’re not insured.”
“I know how to walk a dog”
“No.”
“Let me-”
“Fine! Take Mabel,” Danbi finally relents, adjusting the leashes to hold one out from him. On the end is a Pomeranian, not too dissimilar from Taehyung’s own dog - the same dog Taehyung keeps trying to convince Danbi to walk, just so he has an excuse to see her. “She bites.”
“It’s fine,” Taehyung says, taking the leash in his palm and wrapping it over slightly for a little extra security. Starts walking. Is cheeky, as he says, “I’m used to bitches who bite.”
“You did not just call me a bitch,” Danbi gasps, genuinely affronted. It’s the first time throughout this entire interaction that Taehyung thinks he’s getting genuine emotion from her. Knows the rest of it is bull.
“Well, are you planning on biting me?” He flirts. Wouldn’t be opposed. In fact, he’d quite like it.
“Shut up,” she whines with a deadly roll of her eyes. “Just walk the damn dog."
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messiah-girl · 2 years ago
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Costar
A work-in-progress poem about astrology and making bad decisions.
Costar, in its infinite wisdom, warned me: avoid fire signs. Above, begs an intricate system: follow the God damn guidelines The cosmos overhead, imploring: turn back now, lest you burn. Every omen, I was ignoring, inviting the universe's spurn. And I, the poor, unrepentant fool, had been right here before, eagerly breaking every rule, in pursuit of those that I adore.
I prance euphorically into spellbinding reds and yellows, the blazing, radiant hues, of a sunrise burning, it grows into the drowsy silhouette of a blithe and heedless Earth, burning hot, a clear threat to its tragic, revolving rebirth.
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alex51324 · 5 months ago
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So, the NDA signed by producers of The Apprentice just expired, and one of them has published a tell-all article. Most of the article is about how they used standard reality-TV tricks to portray Trump as being wealthy and intelligent, when in reality he was, and is, a deeply indebted buffoon.
The money shot, however, comes when Trump and the producers are preparing for climax of the final episode, when the winner will be decided.
Per the FCC's rules for game shows, producers could not be involved in deciding who would be fired each week, or who would ultimately win: it had to be Trump's decision alone, like contestants and viewers were told it was. The producers could, and did, give him a presentation about the strengths and weaknesses of the contestants each time he had to make a decision. These were recorded, in case questions ever arose about whether the producers had crossed the line.
So, for the final episode, there were two contestants remaining. Both were men, one white, the other Black. They'd both done well in the final challenge of the competition. As the producers were summarizing the points for an against each candidate, this happened:
“Yeah,” he says to no one in particular, “but, I mean, would America buy a n— winning?” Kepcher’s pale skin goes bright red. I turn my gaze toward Trump. He continues to wince. He is serious, and he is adamant about not hiring Jackson.
In the finished program, Trump chose the white contestant as the winner.
(Four years later, Trump would propagate the baseless conspiracy theory that Barack Obama was not a native-born US citizen and therefore had not legitimately won the presidency.)
The article also describes how women working on the production faced discrimination based on whether or not Trump wanted to look at them while they did their jobs:
While leering at a female camera assistant or assessing the physical attributes of a female contestant for whoever is listening, he orders a female camera operator off an elevator on which she is about to film him. “She’s too heavy,” I hear him say. Another female camera operator, who happens to have blond hair and blue eyes, draws from Trump comparisons to his own Ivanka Trump. “There’s a beautiful woman behind that camera,” he says toward a line of 10 different operators set up in the foyer of Trump Tower one day. “That’s all I want to look at.”
And there's a third anecdote where he pressures a woman producer to break the FCC rules, while being casually misogynistic toward a contestant:
Trump corners a female producer and asks her whom he should fire. She demurs, saying something about how one of the contestants blamed another for their team losing. Trump then raises his hands, cupping them to his chest: “You mean the one with the …?” He doesn’t know the contestant’s name. Trump eventually fires her.
This information is pretty unlikely to persuade anyone who wasn't already persuaded by any of the other things Trump has done and said, which would for anyone else be a career-defining scandal. But it is a useful reminder of who we're dealing with.
(Link is to Slate, an x-number-of-free-articles-a-month site, but the incognito window trick works.)
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killer-gf · 10 months ago
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a fire and earth sign.
a fire and earth sign can be together,
burn the stars prophecies.
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navybrat817 · 29 days ago
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Vanilla Frosting
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Pairing: CEO!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader
Summary: Bucky takes a call at home and you decide to tease him a bit.
Word Count: Over 1k
Warnings: Established relationship, banter, teasing, dirty thoughts, very slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?) and he worships you.
A/N: I blame these photos as they gave me CEO vibes. And @whisperlullaby and @targaryenvampireslayer . Again, before our couple has Muffin and Bean. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!
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“I thought you said no calls, Boss.”
Bucky sighed and rolled up his sleeves as he looked toward the kitchen. You stood in the doorway with crossed arms and slow building irritation in your eyes. The sight of you always lightened his mood and made his heart race, but that look wasn't a good sign. Oh, he was in trouble.
Some sort of trouble.
As a CEO, he was always prepared to take the fall when it came to his company. Seeing your kissable mouth set in a grim line though? “It’s Steve’s fault,” he blurted out, throwing his best friend under the bus without hesitation.
“Really, Buck?” Steve’s voice rang out from the laptop speaker.
“Yeah, really,” he snapped. When Steve found a partner like you, he’d get why he bent his will to you over everyone else. Hell, he welcomed Steve getting a bit of payback because it would mean his best friend would have found happiness. “I’m sorry, Cupcake,” he added in a softer tone to you.
He didn’t want to take the call, he really didn’t. All he wanted to do was hold you and forget about the stress of work for an evening. He even assured you that there would be no work tonight, but Steve insisted he get on a video chat with some of the executive team. God knew the punk was relentless, but the unimpressed look on your face made him want to fire everyone and start from scratch.
The two of you had plenty of money, so you’d be set if he went that route.
“Steve’s fault, huh?” You slowly smiled after a moment. “Okay. You take the call and I’ll start making some cupcakes.”
Bucky cocked his head with a confused stare as you went further into the kitchen and out of sight. Baking cupcakes wasn't out of the ordinary for you, but you saying “okay” wasn't okay. He knew better. There was no possible way he was off the hook for this. He already had at least ten gifts in mind to buy you once the call wrapped up.
“I love you,” he called after you, not at all ashamed for anyone to hear that as they joined the meeting. If anyone eyeballed him or said an unkind word about voicing his feelings for you outside of the office, they could find another job.
“Love you, too!” You called back.
That brought a small smile to his face. “Let’s get started so we can all get back to our regular evening plans,” he said, trying to keep the annoyance out of his tone.
After a minute, he glanced over the monitor as he heard gentle movement in the kitchen. You weren't slamming things around, which was good. You understood how crazy things could get since you were his secretary. It didn't mean he enjoyed taking time away from the two of you and he didn’t want you upset with him. Even if you weren't upset, he still had to make it up to you. He-
“Hey, Bucky?” Your eyes lit up as you appeared in the doorway again with a small bowl. He was certain he forgot how to breathe when he eyed what you were wearing: a new black and white apron. And nothing else. Jesus fucking Christ. “You want vanilla frosting for the cupcakes, right?”
Bucky subtly shifted in his seat as you sauntered further into the room, his throat dry at the sight of you. The curve of your hips, your hardened nipples teasing him through the fabric. Calling you beautiful wasn't enough. Your beauty was transcendent, indescribable. The kind that made the strongest of people drop to their knees. He was a powerful man, but still just a man at the end of the day and you rendered him powerless. And right now he needed to focus on the call, but how could he focus on anything but you?
He cleared his throat when Jack rambled on about something. Or was it John? Who gave a fuck? “Cupcake,” he growled.
“I know I do. Maybe you can frost me later?” You scooped a bit of frosting onto your finger and wrapped your lips around it with an obscene moan. Thankfully he had his microphone turned off. They didn't need to hear your pretty sounds. “Mmm.”
He groaned when you showed him your tongue. He knew it was frosting, but the image made it easy to picture you wrapping your warm mouth around his cock and showing him his release before you swallowed like a good girl. It took a lot of control not to palm himself. Surely everyone would understand if he ended the call now. Why the fuck did he take this call?
Making sure his hand was out of sight, he beckoned you closer with his finger. If he was lucky he could get you to take the apron off, sit in the nearby chair, and touch yourself. Or you could keep the apron on. As long as he could see your glistening pussy. Even looking wouldn't be enough. He had to get his mouth on it, his cock in it.
But you didn't go to him.
Instead, you tsked with the finger you licked and pointed at the laptop. “Oh, no, Boss. You listened to Steve and took the call. Now deal with the consequences,” you smiled sweetly, turning on your heel and giving him the perfect view of your ass as you walked back into the kitchen.
Yep, he was in big trouble.
Bucky's fists clenched as he got back to the task at hand, but he also chuckled. He deserved a bit of blue balls for the time being. He also had to respect the way you played the game, but he knew how to play the game, too. Before the night was over, he’d be back in your good graces. He’d eat one of your delicious cupcakes before he got a taste of you. And he'd remind you that he didn't have the world because of money, power, or any of that.
Bucky Barnes had the world because he had you.
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Oh, these two. 🥰 Steve isn't even upset for getting blamed. 🤣 Love and thanks for reading! ❤️
Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi
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youryanderedaddy · 5 months ago
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When Life Gives Lemons
tw: female reader, technically non con because of stealthing, baby trapping, breeding, obsessive behavior, reader being a bit rude
You couldn’t believe the irony of your life. You were about to break up with your immature boyfriend, and he still managed to be grossly late to the date, unconsciously digging his own grave deeper. You had put on your best white shirt and the tightest skirt you owned, and you even went through the trouble of booking the latest hipster coffee shop close to the centre. He had been fifteen minutes late, to be exact, and when you brought it up, he simply shrugged a long sleazy smile, dragging his skeleton - shaped metal rings against the edge of the table.
“All in due time, princess.” He took a sip off his coffee - a single shot of espresso with no creamer, as always. “All in due time.” He repeated, reaching in his pocket for a pack of off - brand cigarettes. He really couldn’t afford any of the fancy ones. Once the cigarette was lit, he slowly brought it to his lips and inhaled deeply, letting his head relax against the chair. His thick neck tightened as he swallowed the deadly smoke, and even the sun seemed to avoid his messy dark locks, instead keeping the man in the shadows.
“What does that even mean?” You threw your hands around helplessly, sinking into your chair. “Don’t you want to know?” Axel teased, taking another puff. Although his expression was one of mild amusement, his sharp blue eyes were carefully following your every movement - wondering what will tip you off the most. “You know, you’re so fuckin’ hot when you’re mad, mami.” He smiled in a playful boyish way that once would have made you melt, but now only served as a reminder of his unserious nature.
“Stop playing around. I need to discuss something imp–”
“Shhh, don’t talk, babygirl. I need to show you something.” Axel interrupted, gripping the big guitar closer to his lap. ”I wrote you a song.” His thin fingers grazed the delicate transparent strings, forcing a catchy, although not fully polished melody out of the old thing. He took a deep breath, wetting his lips so the lyrics would come out softer. 
My girl knows how to set me
on flames she goes through 
the motions of the wind she
is a fireball, a fireball, on fire
“What the fuck, Axy.” You pounded your fists at the table, shaking the glasses and spilling coffee all over the wooden surface. You could feel everyone’s judging stare across your back, all of the other patrons were jeering and whispering about the two of you, and your cheeks were heating up by the moment. “I’ve told you countless times to stop writing those shitty songs. They don’t even rhyme, for fuck sake.” You whined, suddenly overwhelmed by helplessness. He was never going to change, was he? “This is exactly why I want to break up.”
The music stopped entirely. His dark sunglasses ended on the ground. 
“You wanna break up?” The musician repeated slowly, suddenly appearing awfully composed - so composed it made you look crazy. After that question he remained silent for a very long time, taking long drags off his cigarette while studying your face for any sign of your true feelings bleeding out. “Real’ funny, babe, real’ fun joke.” He forced a crooked smile, reaching in to squeeze your hand all the way through the table. “Now tell me, what’s wrong with the song? I stayed real’ late to compose it just for our date today.” He winked, which only made you feel worse.
“I am being serious, Axel. Let go of me.” Your tone turned icy and your ex boyfriend quickly released you, eyes filling with raw fear. “Wait, baby, we can talk about–”
“There is nothing to talk about. You’re such a child!” You blurted out, too frustrated to spare energy on fluttery words and sweet apologies. “I want to do my masters soon. You know I’m applying to Metwyorth - I can’t be seen hanging around with a high school dropout who does Saturday gigs for a living.” You continued, pursing your lips together. You knew you were being harsh, cruel even, but this was the only way to push him away. The musician could be awfully clingy, so you needed to be firm.
“A highschool dropout who made you scream your brains out.” Axel responded bitterly through clenched teeth, eyes growing dark with anger. You shook your head bashfully, avoiding his fiery gaze. “Sure, we had our fun,” You gestured vaguely at nothing in particular, trying to hide the shame blossoming on your sides. “But it’s time to wake up. I mean, be realistic. We live in different worlds.” You began to collect your things quickly, standing up to leave.
“Y/N!” He called out to you, causing you to turn back just for a second - you owed him that much for all the good memories you knew you both would have trouble forgetting. “You’re making a mistake. Please, think it through.” The man took a hold of your hand, caressing your fingers gently. “I know I can’t offer you much right now, but I really love you!” His eyes dilated, honest and clear like an untouched sea on a quiet day. 
“Goodbye, Axel.”
***
You meet him sooner that you’d like.
Two weeks later you’re drunk off your mind, dancing the night away with some of your girlfriends when you catch a pair of familiar eyes fluttering across your body from the other side of the room. It makes you feel hot all over - despite what you said back then, you felt each agonising moment of the break up. Even if the logical part of your brain knows you have no future with such a man, your body needs him, craves him. 
Axel keeps staring at you intensely, burning holes through your neck, your thighs, your lips. His yearning gaze lingers, completely miserable, and yet as lustful as the night he first wrapped his arms around you and claimed you as his. He can still feel your nails scratching his back red and bloody, sending shivers down his spine and setting fire in his loins. This staring game of yours lasts for approximately thirty minutes before he gives in and comes over to your table. He doesn’t say anything - doesn’t look at you or greet your friends, doesn’t even pretend to have any reason to approach you. He simply grabs you, swallows an airy pant, and drags you inside the bathroom.
You’re all over each other in no time. His hands are tangled in your hair and your nails are sinking into his warm flesh once again. You can’t breathe for a second, suffocated by a deep, longing kiss that he only spares you of once your lips start to turn blue. He licks your neck and bites at any spot vulnerable enough to steal a gasp out of you - and you return it by sucking on his collarbone until a purple hickey adorns his skin. You swiftly unzip his loose pants and start taking your dress off, but as you try to spread your legs, he turns you around facing the wall. 
“Fuck, I wanna do you from the back, princess.” Axel mumbles, one strong hand gripping your throat as the other gropes your breasts freely. You nod weakly, too turned on to comprehend any of the words he’s saying. “Ngh, wanna be able to pull your hair n’ shit.” His fist wraps around your ponytail, pulling slightly so you expose your neck to his teeth. You can already feel his throbbing manhood prob at your thighs, slowly moving towards your entrance. “Y-you have a condom on, right?” You manage to whimper through the little electric bursts of pleasure running through your whole body as he plays you like an instrument. He mumbles something like “yeah”, and in this state of mind that’s enough for you.
He starts sinking into your heat slowly, letting you adjust to his hard length inch by inch, then once you’ve settled, practically begging him to just give it to you, he begins thrusting painfully slow - really making you feel it going in and out, in and out in a perfect rhythm. Each time his cock brushes against your most sensitive spot, you’re reduced to a slick, desperate mess, but just as your thighs begin to go numb and you slip down, Axel catches both of your wrists and pins them to the wall, keeping you in place. You’re so wet you can hear the slap of skin on skin every time your gummy walls hug his member, but you’re too far gone to care about the nasty sound.
“F-fuck, baby, you’d be so fucking hot as a mother. Have you ever thought about it?” Your ex whispers against you, picking up the pace. You shake your head - kids have never been your priority, since you’re still so young and your education would always come first. “I thought about it. A lot, ‘n fact, when we were separated.” His heartbeat fastens. “Ugh, you’re still so tight, god…” His free hand dances at your hips, ogling and caressing any curve it can find. “When you dumped me, I was completely lost, ya know? Didn’t sober up for three days. But then I dreamt that I knocked you up accidentally. S-shit, did you just tighten up?”
Your whole body stiffens at his words. Your stomach fills with unexplainable dread - this whole conversation is turning you off, but somehow your body seems to have a mind of its own. 
“Q-quit it with the small talk, asshole.” You groan, pushing back so you’d get more friction between your legs. “Just fuck me, okay? I don’t need to hear your weird fantasies.” You hear yourself saying confidently despite the provocative position you’re currently stuck in - you can’t even see his face, but you know he’s probably laughing at your bossy comment. But instead he keeps blabbering on as if you’re not even there. “You were so beautiful, princess. So big and–” He bites his lower lip. “So fucking needy for me - just like now. You were dripping everywhere. You were so excited for our little baby.” He grunted hoarsely, reaching in to stroke your clit - and despite your best efforts, you let out a soft moan. 
“And we were a family - just you, n-ngh, me and the little guy.” Axel utters through clenched teeth, trying to hold out for as long as possible - savouring you in tiny little bites. “No stupid degrees or anythin’, just us two against the world.” He slows down further, now barely moving inside of you. It’s driving you crazy with anticipation - both his story and the way he’s fucking you. “And it made me think, we could really have all that - if it wasn’t for your stupid pride. All I need to do is knock you up. Just think about it.” The man grips your hips roughly, impaling you on his thickness. 
“Your tits will swell, your thighs will thicken; you’ll be so tired you’ll have to lay down all the time. You won’t even be able to touch yourself because of your belly.” He smiles at you gently, although you can’t see it. At this point you’re already so close to climax you can’t break through the cotton cloud haze that’s taken over your mind to truly focus. This is one of the reasons you had to break up with the musician - he could get you cockdrunk with a simple touch, and that vulnerability felt terrifying.
“And I will take care of you through every-” He kisses your cheek. “single–” He kisses you again. “step of the way.” He inhales deeply, thrusting in one final time before he spills inside you. “I love you, baby. I really can’t let you go.”
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astro-tag-9 · 5 months ago
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Hello
can you help me find my twin fictional character?
sagittarius sun sagittarius moon aries rising capricorn venus libra mars ❤️ thank youuu
❤️ Amy March ❤️
(Little women)
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megamindsecretlair · 2 months ago
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Can you please write an Aaron Pierre smut fic or love story? 🙏🏽
A/N: Ya'll don't get me started on this man. Just don't. I'm obsessed.
Wild
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. SMUT. PWP, cursing, PIV, fingering (female receiving) teasing, size kink, dirty talk, degradation kink if you squint, rough sex, all consensual. Sorry if I missed some, I'm rushing, just let me know.
Summary: You went on a small camping trip with Terry, who graciously helped to introduce you to hiking. After a critter destroys your tent, you stupidly volunteer to share his. Shouldn’t be too bad, right?
Word Count: 5,859k
AO3 Link
A/N: THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A DRABBLE. Don't ask for him no more! (kidding, kinda) I will never be normal about him. It just kept going. My shoulder has been on fire for the past two weeks so I'm taking a much needed break. Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, gif, or unhinged ask.
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You stepped carefully along the ground. You made sure not a twig nor rock slipped beneath your shoes as you picked your way through the thicket of trees. Terry gave you a head start, closing his eyes and turning around with a smug look on his face.
You’ll show him though. There was no way he could track you this time. The ground was dry, you didn’t step on anything, and you worked with intention. The goal was to get to the river before he could catch up to you.
So far, it had to have been at least fifteen minutes since he started counting. That was a good enough lead, right? 
You were distracted. But something had to keep your mind off of your pursuer. You and Terry had formed an easy friendship, seeing each other around the gym. When he mentioned hiking was a hobby of his, you mentioned that you wanted to get into it but wasn’t sure where to start.
You should have kept your mouth shut. Spending nearly every week up close and personal with him was a new level of personal hell. He was so damn pretty. You didn’t often call men pretty, because…well…but he was!
The most striking eyes ever rimmed in dark eyelashes as if he were wearing eyeliner. Wide nose and even wider lips. An adorable, incredible smile. You stepped behind a tree and paused for a moment, bending over to grab your knees. 
Fuck you were out of shape. And trying to keep up with Terry’s tall ass was a struggle. Beyond a struggle. For every step he took, you had to scurry behind. And he didn’t believe in breaks. Fuckin’ ex military. 
You breathed through your nose though that only made breathing difficult. Didn’t help that you were horny as hell either. You leaned up and pressed your back against the bark of the tree, hoping no critters tried to ride home with you.
You took off your hat and wiped your brow, looking at your surroundings. The woods itself had thick trees, fluffy leaves, and branches that stretched high in the sky. Dots of sunlight slanted, giving you a peek at the bright blue sky. Terry would call it quits soon. You pouted. This was the second mini camping trip you’d been on with him and you hadn’t been able to escape him.
You replaced your hat on your head and risked a glance behind you. No sign of Terry. Good. You grinned and took off again, picking carefully through the woods. The water was close. You could hear the current from where you were. 
Almost there, oop around that rock, and ahhh, almost stepped on a rock. Ha. In his gorgeous face. 
You almost laughed but it would give away your position. You pressed your hand to the nearest tree as you swung around it just as strong arms pushed you into the tree.
You screamed as Terry moved in behind you, pressing his chest against your back. “Found you,” he said. His voice was low and deep, emerging from somewhere deep in his wide chest.
You groaned and slapped the tree. “How the hell did you find me?” You asked.
Terry chuckled and stepped away from you. You missed the heat of his body already. You schooled your features and turned around with a smirk on your face. You folded your arms across your chest so he couldn’t see how hard you were gasping for air. For more than one reason.
“You’re loud as hell,” he said. 
“Was not! I was being quiet! I made sure I was!” 
Terry looped his fingers through his hiking backpack and tilted his head at you. “I’ve been following you for ten minutes,” he said.
You looked away, back the way you came. Shit. What did he hear? What did he see? You may or may not talk to yourself to get yourself through shit. You ran through the past ten minutes, trying to think of what you said or did or if you drew any attention to the horrible crush you had on him.
He had to know his appeal. But you didn’t want to make him feel uncomfortable. You weren’t only friends with him because he was hot. That was loser shit. You genuinely valued his opinions, his outlook. You loved that he had a way of making everyone at ease with just a few quiet words or a playful look. 
But that goddamn body. You looked back towards his face, because if you looked at his shirt, dripping with sweat, you’d combust on the spot. Terry smirked as if he could read your thoughts and pointed the way you came.
“You have to be aware of your surroundings if you do find yourself in a situation like this. It’s not about being quiet. It’s about moving fast, moving smart, and trust nothing,” he said.
You put your hands on your hips and pouted. “One of these days you’re not gonna be able to catch me,” you said.
He chuckled. “I’d still catch you,” he said. He smirked and turned around, heading into the woods, away from the water. 
You’d just have to train when he wasn’t around being a distraction. You sighed, trying to not let the sting of failure drag you into the dumps. You walked behind him, your consolation prize being his nice, gorgeous ass. 
He wore camo pants and a gray t-shirt, hiking boots, and tall thick socks. The pants really showed off his assets. You bit your lip imagining what it’d be like pressed up against all that piece of man. 
“Keep up!” He barked out. You huffed and whined, jogging to catch up to him.
“You do know you’re like, eight feet tall right?” You asked.
He looked at you out of the corner of his eye, giving him an animalistic side eye. His eyes were lethal. Your breathing stuttered and you hoped he didn’t hear it because god. “And you must be part lion? Part tiger? Yo ass ain’t natural,” you said, hoping to diffuse whatever spell he managed to weave whenever he trained those eyes on you. 
Terry chuckled. “You trynna say I’m not human?” 
You didn’t answer right away, only because you were trying not to huff and puff as you talked. You needed your inhaler, but you also left it in your tent. Yes, yes, you knew it was a dumb move. But hell, there was nothing more embarrassing than having to stand there and use it.
“I mean…” you said, letting the sentence dangle.
Terry gave you that side eye again, his mouth twisted in a frown. You gave him an innocent smile back, batting your eyes all innocent-like. Terry only shook his head, the corners of his mouth drifting down as he tried to hide a smile. 
You walked together in silence, grateful if only because your lungs were burning. When you decided to go on this journey of getting in shape and getting your mind right, you never thought you’d be in the woods. Let alone with someone like Terry. 
He was competent, knowing so much about living off the grid and being prepared. He carried all kinds of tools with him. You had a thirst for knowledge, asking him a million questions. He answered every single one too. If you could clone him and pass him out like candy to your friends, you would. There needed to be more men like him. 
A trail of ripped paper littered the ground like patches of snow in the middle of fall. “No,” you gasped.
You sped up as Terry’s hands shot out to stop you, but you pushed past him, running towards your campground. Your tent was on the far left, torn to pieces and ripped apart. Your journal had been shredded, ripped apart by some kind of animal. Your clothes were thrown about.
You were only out here for a day and night, getting a tiny taste of camping thanks to Terry. You’d never been. Growing up an inner city kid, Black parents didn’t play that shit. The school yard was your jungle. You were threatened with going to stay out in the woods if you didn’t like living under their roof. It wasn’t a regular occurrence for you or your friends growing up. 
The small fire pit had been picked over as well. You made a wailing sound as you tried to gather up the ripped pieces of paper. All those memories gone. All those feelings torn up. Some pieces flew with the breeze and you took off your own backpack, trying hard not to cry.
“You can’t run ahead like that. What if it was dangerous?” Terry scolded you. His voice got deeper, eyes narrow. He bent down to help you pick up the pieces of paper.
“Please, don’t! I got it,” you said. Perhaps a bit harsher than necessary. You weren’t going to cry. It was a minor setback. Things happened. You play stupid games and you won stupid prizes. 
Perhaps your parents were right. You should’ve kept your ass inside. Without all these damn bugs, and twigs, and fucking leaves tangling in your braids. 
Terry busied himself with picking through your tent, analyzing what may have happened. Home. When you got home, you would be able to break down. Not here. Not with Terry right there. His ass didn’t skip a beat.
“Might’ve been a bear. Or something similar looking for food,” he shouted over his shoulder.
You nodded but weren’t sure if he saw you. You only wanted to clean up your mess. You had so many ideas you wanted to jot down when you got back. So many observations, thoughts that raced through your mind on your hike. Now those thoughts would be gone too. Terry’s one rule this morning was no cellphone. 
You could do a day without it. Boy, were you wrong. You made a mental note to keep your journal with you from now on. Or start carrying a smaller notebook for bullet points and then journal at home, like a sane woman.
“You can take my tent. I’ll sleep out here and make sure nothing circles back,” he said.
You stopped from grabbing the last piece of torn paper from a bush nearby and turned to face him. “I won’t make you do that,” you said.
Terry stood up and dusted his hands, unstrapping his back from across his chest. “I didn’t ask,” he said.
You snagged the last piece and carried your pathetic pile to your ruined tent. You liked that tent. You just bought that tent. Did the fucking bear think money grew on trees? You kicked at the black and orange heap and faced Terry.
“I didn’t either,” you said. 
Terry watched you with those deadly eyes as he dropped his bag to the ground. He used the bottom of his shirt to clean his sweaty face. Damn. His words drew your attention back to his face. “I’ve been trained to survive outdoors. You haven’t.” 
You tucked the pile of paper into your ruined tent and then faced him once more. Terry was about to meet a hard rock. “Don’t start with the macho act, okay? We’re adults. I’m not making you stay outside while I’m tucked away all nice and toasty in your tent,” you said.
A smile curved his lips as he stepped closer, using his height to his advantage. You had to look up otherwise you’d just be staring at his chest. You stood your ground and tilted your head. He may have the advantage. He may be just as stubborn as you were. But you did not back down. Ever. Some called it a toxic trait but there were other ways to survive. Everybody had something.
Terry’s eyes were even more dangerous up close. Not quite blue. Not quite brown. Some mix of the two that was hypnotizing in the way he coldly assessed you. You didn’t know what he was thinking. His poker face was lethal. Not a hint or a clue.
“What do you suggest, then?” He asked.
A hotel, a shower, a bed, twenty four hours, and a bottle of lotion. But that was neither here nor there. You licked your lips and blinked at him. “We can share. Or do you not want my cooties in your tent?” You asked.
That surprised a laugh out of Terry. He shook his head. “Fine. But I snuggle in my sleep,” he said. 
His jaw flexed. He looked expectantly at you, lifting an eyebrow like he expected you to back down. You only raised your chin. “Good, I get cold at night,” you said.
He blinked slowly and nodded, rocking back on his heels before stepping away. “I’ll help with your tent then, before we lose the light,” he said.
When he turned around, you sighed quietly. Shaking out your sweaty palms. Oh god. Ohgodohgodohgod. What the hell did you do that for? 
You berated yourself as you and Terry worked as a team, removing your items from inside and rolling up your tent. He secured it with rope from inside his backpack and you had a wayward thought that made you laugh out loud.
Terry had knelt on the ground, one knee up, as he secured your tent. He looked up at your laugh and you waved him off. 
“What is it?” He asked, a small smile on his lips.
“Nothing, it’s stupid,” you said.
“I want to know,” he said.
You pinched your lips, wondering if you should say. Aw hell, you had to get it out now otherwise you’d be giggling in your sleep all night. “You kind of remind me of Dora,” you said.
“The kid’s show?” He asked.
You nodded and tried to hold in the laugh, but your stomach cramped from trying. His expression only made it worse as he stared at you like you were crazy. Maybe you were. Maybe you didn’t need to be in a tent with him all night. 
Terry chuckled and shook his head. “Magic backpack?” He asked.
You nodded and burst into laughter. His eyes narrowed but he smiled at you. “Come on, giggles, we’re not done,” he said.
“Work, work, work, is that all you think about?” You asked.
“No,” he said, his voice low and soft. You tilted your head at him and he gave you a funny look. Assessing you again. He didn’t elaborate further as he moved your sleeping bag inside of his tent.
“I’ll roll mine in a bit. Let’s clean this up some more before we hit the stream,” he said.
You thought about look on his face as you cleaned up around the campfire. There was no food to be found, so whatever creature or critter that did it, just made a whole lot of mess for nothing. 
You threw away your journal pages into the small trash bag Terry had tied high in the tree above your campground. He secured it back in place after getting it down for you, gifting you with a side view of his abs. Good god, the man was built in all the right ways. God took his time with this one.
Nice and clean with only one tent now, Terry let you go to the stream to freshen up first. The woods lacked fresh amenities but it was one of those parks that did have strategically placed rest areas. You handled business and then went down to the small stream a ways down from the campsite.
It was within shouting distance and you used the fresh water to clean the sweat from your body. You returned, feeling much better now that your skin wasn’t so sticky. Terry went next, disappearing from view and already lifting his shirt.
You took a risky glance over your shoulder, admiring the cut of his back as he stalked through the woods. His narrow hips moved with ease, ass in full view. Your mouth watered as your canine caught on your lower lip. You’d eat that man alive if given half the chance.
Terry’s head was on a swivel, looking around just on GP. You hurriedly looked away, grabbing your inhaler from your pocket. You retrieved it during clean up but was too nervous to use it in front of him.
Lot of good it did you now, but you took two deep puffs to clean all this fresh air from your lungs. The one thing you did not have in common with your ancestors was a major love of the outdoors. Fuck the air and nature. Give you a hot bath and TV any day of the week. 
Terry returned and you eased into conversation, talking about your families as the light disappeared. Terry started a fire, stoking it with a stick. You talked about life goals, hobbies, or anything really. Watched as he moved, talked, or the way he laughed. Listening to his voice was soothing. Welcoming. Terry caught fish in the river earlier and cooked it over that fire when it was good and ready. 
You yawned one too many times and Terry chuckled. “Head inside, I’ll do one last check,” he said.
“We didn’t get to tell any scary stories,” you said.
Terry shook his head and smiled. He was already dimming the fire, carefully stamping out hot rocks in the pit he built. Watching that man build a fire shouldn’t have got you that hot and bothered but it did.
“Next time, if you’re up for it.”
“You never stop, huh?” You asked, sleepily. 
Terry shrugged. “Not much to slow down for,” he said. He looked at you over the fire. The light from the flames danced across his skin, making him seem even more otherworldly. An understanding passed between you and you nodded, getting up without issue. 
You patted his shoulder, understanding the note of loss in his voice. You’d been there. You didn’t understand his pain, but you understood loss all the same. You took a deep breath before heading inside his tent.
It smelled like him. Like all, pure male. You whimpered, climbing on top of your sleeping bag. He had a nice tent. Much nicer than yours, even though his was well used. It had been folded and unfolded so many times, the grooves were permanent at this point. 
His sleeping bag was brown and looked more like a blanket compared to yours. Did his big ass even fit inside of a sleeping bag? How did he normally sleep? Did he have a bed big enough to hold him? Did he sleep sideways?
You were only half sure that he was playing when he said he snuggled in his sleep. He never mentioned a girlfriend or a wife. Did he have big pillows to snuggle? You stared at the domed ceiling of the tent, picturing what Terry looked like at rest. 
It only made your pussy flutter picturing his smooth, dark skin. Eyes closed. Mouth slightly parted. Did he snore? You probably should have asked that before volunteering to share a tent with him.
The rustle of Terry entering the tent made you shriek and sit up, like you were caught with your hand in a cookie jar. Terry stopped at the entrance and looked at you. “Just me. Do you want me to stay outside?” 
“No. Um. I was just thinking,” you said. Thinking about sucking that –
“Are you sure?” 
“Yes,” you said, quietly. 
You couldn’t see his face now that the fire was out. He was just a solid wall of black, crab-walking into the tent and then zipping it up behind him. You were acutely aware of every move he made. Every sigh. Every huff of breath.
“Go to sleep,” he said.
“How the hell do you know I’m still awake?” You asked.
“You’re too loud,” he said. 
You could hear the smile in his voice and you rolled your eyes. “Heard that too,” he said.
“Oh, shut it!” You said, rolling over to your side. Terry chuckled as he climbed into his sleeping bag. 
You shut your eyes and focused on your breathing, focused on falling asleep. Terry made it surprisingly easy. His gentle breathing was its own type of sound machine, lulling you to sleep along with the crickets outside. The soft hum of the water nearby. Before you knew it, you were out like a light.
Rustling jerked you awake. It was hard to truly knock out in the middle of nowhere, next to someone like Terry, and not still be keen to every single sound. You were feeling hot as hell, like you woke up in a sauna.
Terry’s arms were wrapped around you and you were snuggled up under his neck, inhaling his deep masculine scent. You cracked an eye open, though you still couldn’t see. Pitch black outside and inside the tent.
Terry hummed as more rustling turned your attention from the fact that he really did snuggle in his sleep. The noise made your heart speed up, clogged up your throat, made it hard to breathe.
Terry tightened his arms around you and drew his face down until his mouth was against your cheek. “Shh,” he said, too quiet. You didn’t think him capable.
He extracted himself from you, moving in a way that didn’t make noise at all. He even managed to unzip the tent without making a sound. He only unzipped it far enough to peek out.
You weren’t a damn damsel in distress. So you rolled over, not as quiet as him, and joined him at the entrance. There was enough light from the moon to cast a low glow over the campsite. There was nothing truly out there, but the rustling continued. The sound increased, and got closer and closer.
Your hand flew to Terry’s exposed knee, gripping on for dear life as an actual deer walked out of bushes and sniffed the air. You sighed, deflating against Terry’s side. Terry sighed as well, unzipping the tent more to get a good look. 
The both of you watched the deer nose around the campsite, likely following the smell of Terry’s good cooking. It’s ears swayed back and forth, picking through nothing as Terry was meticulous about cleaning up after himself.
“You were scared,” he whispered, shaking his head.
“So were you!” You fired back.
“Nah, I was good,” he said.
“You liar,” you said, with a chuckle.
“It’s okay if you were scared, you know,” he said. 
“Ain’t nobody scared of no damn deer. And ain’t nobody need your protection,” you said. You poked him in his chest. When did he find a chance to ditch his shirt? You had been snuggled next to that hunk of meat and he didn’t have a shirt on?!
“No?” Terry leaned over, his lips grazing your ear. “Go out there and say hi.” He tried to push you out of the tent and you fought him, trying not to spook the deer. One wrong move and the deer took off.
You giggled as you wrestled with Terry. He was so big, you didn’t stand a chance. It didn’t take much effort to subdue you, but you bucked and wrestled for control. No dice. Terry laughed as he pinned you beneath him, legs spread wide as he scooted in and leaned down close to your face.
“Give up?” He asked.
“Like hell,” you said. You had siblings. You knew how to scrap. Yet, all you did was rub your body against his growing bulge. 
You stopped wrestling for control. Your breaths were harsh and loud in the stillness of the tent. Terry’s chest rose and fell but he wasn’t as loud as you. You stopped struggling against his hold, letting him pin your wrists to the ground above your head.
“Hmm,” he hummed, a rumbling sound low in his chest. “Ain’t that better?” 
“Terry?” You asked.
“Mhm,” he said, leaning down to rub his stubble across your chin. 
“Kiss me,” you said.
Terry leaned up and kissed you. You moaned into his mouth. His lips were just as juicy, just as lush. Soft to the touch. And he was an expert. Kissing, retreating, licking, retreating, biting, retreating. He drove you wild, not giving an inch. Not giving you any wiggle room.
He completely caged you beneath him. Beneath the heaviness of him. He still had your wrists pinned, so you weren’t able to touch him like you wanted. You weren’t the type to be agreeable for agreeable’s sake.
Terry growled at your attempts to shake his hold. Shake his control. He bit your lip, hard, and you cried out, ending on a moan. He licked the sting away, kissing down your jaw and to your neck.
“Fuck do you do to me?” He asked, more to himself as he kissed and explored your skin. He ground his bulge into your pussy and you whimpered, wrapping your legs around his waist.
Just as he showed you in training, you managed to buck your hips and flip him over. You wailed in triumph, not actually believing that would work. Your breaths were harsh, wild, as you finally got to touch him. Your hands roamed over his broad, warm chest. He took great care of his body.
In a lightning quick move, Terry grabbed your arm and flipped you over to your stomach. He grabbed both of your wrists and pinned them behind your back. You cried out from the force, but it was welcome. Inviting a rush of heat to flow through you, straight to your dripping pussy. You moaned as Terry dropped his weight on top of you.
His dick aligned with your ass and you tucked it higher. He grunted and slapped your ass. “Ow!” You yelled, more from surprise. Though the fucker did hurt. With hands as large as his, he managed to cover a wide area of your ass. Leaving behind a burning sting that only made you wiggle your ass against him.
“Fighting only turns me on, princess,” he said. He leaned down to your ear and growled. He sounded damn near like a lion. “Give up?” He nibbled on your ear.
“Fuck no,” you said and giggled. 
Terry moved your wrists to one hand, then used his free hand to pull your joggers down over your ass. You whimpered as he caressed your booty, intentionally missing the heated core of you. 
You moaned, trying to wiggle your ass where you needed him most. All these months of pining, of wanting, of yearning, were coming to a head. All those times training, working beside him, tangling with him were catching up to you, Making you feel like you were going to burn to a crisp.
“Use them big girl words and tell me what you want,” he said.
You arched your back. Begging, crying whimpers escaping you as his big fingers skirted the outer edge of your pussy. The smell of your arousal permeated the tent. There was no way to deny how turned on you were. If you could just, wiggle, and move a little to the left–
Terry slapped your ass. “What did I say?” He asked.
You groaned. “Fuck me!” Your horniness won this round.
Terry chuckled evilly, plunging his fingers into your dripping wet hole. You both moaned at the contact. He went knuckles deep with no resistance. He wiggled two fingers inside of you, making you moan loudly like a slut. 
“Was that so hard?” He asked, whispering in your ear as he continued to finger fuck you. He fingered you with all the precision he was known for. Immediately making you grind on his fingers. 
“You can do better than that. Get that shit you want so bad,” he said. He mocked you, he teased you. Every cry or whimper that came out of your mouth, he responded with an evil chuckle or a moan of his own in your ear.
It was always followed randomly by a growl in his chest. The intimacy of the dark and the wet sucking of your pussy drove you closer to that climax. Barreled into it. Crashed into it. You screamed, loud, calling his name as that climax slammed into you like a truck.
“There it is. Shit feel good, don’t it?” He asked.
You nodded your head, forgetting for a moment that it was dark and he couldn’t see you. He released your wrists and then grabbed a handful of your braids, yanking your head back. “Don’t it?” He asked.
“Yesss,” you moaned, biting your lip and rubbing your ass against him. “Oh, fuck me, baby. Now.”
Terry chuckled, smacking your ass. “As much as I want to, I don’t have a condom,” he said. 
“I’m clean. On the pill,” you said. Thank god for that. There was no way you’d be able to sleep tonight without the feel of him inside of you. 
“Are you sure?” He asked.
You nodded, feeling your braids pull as it was still trapped in his tight grip. Terry chuckled. There was the sound of sucking. He moaned. “Taste good. Can’t wait to get back home and spread you on my bed. Hmm, maybe my dining table. Eat you like the good fuckin’ meal you are,” he said. 
He moved behind you, lowering his pants. He groaned, rubbing his dick against your folds. Oh shit. He was working with a third leg. “Oh shit, Terry,” you moaned. Your belly ached. Hollowed out. You were so empty. 
“You’ve been driving me crazy wearing those leggings. And that skirt you wore last week?” Terry talked as he rubbed his dick between your legs. You shook. Terrified of taking all that but knew you had to try. Had to relax and let the master work. 
“What took you so fuckin’ long?” You asked. 
Terry chuckled and smacked your ass, pulling your braids back. You moaned, back arching even more. “That little attitude of yours,” he said. 
“Fuck y–”
Terry pushed into your wet heat, cutting off all words. You reached back, trying to grab onto him. He smacked your hand away and pushed in further, gaining more and more inches inside of you.
Your legs shook. You whimpered as he retreated and then slammed back inside. He sunk further in, stretching you, molding you around his dick. “Oh god, oh fuck, oh god,” you moaned. The delicious burn was too much. Not enough.
Terry moaned, grabbing your hip and pulling you further onto his dick. You didn’t think he could fit inside any more. Surely, he bottomed out by now? 
“Not so tough with some dick in you,” Terry mocked. 
To prevent you from saying something smart, Terry moved with earnest. His stroke game was as intense as the man himself. His strokes were brutal. Punishing. He groaned with every slide inside of you, making your thighs tingle with pleasure.
“Slam that shit back,” he said. 
You placed your hands on the ground and threw it back on him, rising up to meet each of his thrusts. Each of his long strokes. Accepting his dick. Accepting everything he gave you.
“Terry! Oh, you fuck me so well,” you said. You sniffled, screaming with every thrust.
Terry chuckled. “I know. Spread your legs wider,” he said.
He stopped stroking so that you could spread your legs more. You moved your feet to the outer edges of his legs. He pushed down on your back, releasing your braids so that you could fall forward. He raised your hips, moving you, manhandling you. 
Fuck, it felt so right. So good. So natural to be on your knees, ass up in the air, while he went to work. Terry grabbed your hips and moved you one last time. Then, he slammed inside in one rough thrust. You leaned forward, but he snatched you right back.
“Naw, naw. Where you going?” He moaned.
You moaned back, throwing it back but quickly losing the fight. This wasn’t some little man you let fuck you. This was a grown ass man. Secure in his businesses.
“Fuck, you feel good. So wet. I can barely stay inside of you,” he said. He cursed as he slammed into you like he truly wanted.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck. Terry! Terry! Sh-shh–oh that’s my spot,” you said. He brushed up against a deep spot inside of you. You thought it was a myth. You thought that shit didn’t exist. Terry found it without even trying.
“That’s your spot?” He asked. His deep voice made everything sound more filthy. More lewd. 
“That’s my spot!” You squealed. 
“That’s my spot now,” he said. No more words were spoken as he hit that spot over and over. 
Incoherent noises and sounds dribbled from your mouth. Perhaps some spit too. Your essence dripped out of you, flooding his dick as he didn’t let up. Didn’t stop. Kept hitting your spot like he was at target practice and he was showing out for the crowd. 
“Oh I’m gonna-I’m-gonna–”
“Cum on this dick. Let me feel it. Let it go,” he cooed to you.
There was a storm gathering inside of you. It almost felt like you had to pee. “Wait-” 
Terry moaned. Your cries turned to pleas. It both felt good and sort of hurt. “Uhngf-” You exploded, wailed to the high heavens as you came and squirted. “OH SHIT!”
Terry was saying something but you couldn’t hear over the sound of your yelling. Your pussy gripped onto him, locked him in, as you came and came. Terry smacked your ass and then thrust one last time before erupting with his own climax. He stuffed you completely.
Hot, thick pulses of cum throbbed inside of you. Your thighs shook. Your body twitched. Your eyes watered. You dissolved into a steaming pile of person as your eyes crossed with intense, whitehot pleasure.
Terry grunted and dropped forward, pushing you onto your sleeping bag. He kissed your damp pajama shirt. Both of you were huffing, out of breath. Thank god for your inhaler. Your lungs would be nonexistent right now. 
Terry softened by degrees, enough for him to pull out. You moaned as his cum leaked out. Like his dick was a plug keeping it all inside. 
“That’s never happened before,” you mumbled. Suddenly feeling shy and embarrassed. You ought to know what that felt like. Yet, it completely caught you off guard.
Terry maneuvered in the dark until he was able to pull you off of your sleeping bag and onto his where it was dry. He rubbed your arms and shoulders. Then, he grabbed your chin and pulled you into a searing kiss.
“I’m honored I drew it out of you,” he said. “Wait till I do it again.”
“Again! Not with that monster!” You yelled and tapped his chest. Terry’s rumbling laugh was everything you needed to hear. 
He pulled you closer, growling playfully and nipping at your skin. You giggled, trying to wiggle out of his grasp. “Again and again and again,” he said, kissing and nibbling at you with every word while you shrieked into the night with laughter.
The end.
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Who am I kidding? Of course there will be more! 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
1K notes · View notes
mountainsandmayhem · 5 months ago
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Pairing: Millionaire Joel Miller x Female Reader
Rating: 18+ 🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️
Series Summary: After recently graduating from university, your best friend offers you a job cleaning luxury homes for clients you’ll never know. It’s only temporary and a good way to save money for when you go back to get your law degree. That’s what you’re promised at least. Easy. Simple. Mundane. That is, until one of your clients is home and everything that you felt was missing in your life starts to fall into place. This goes against the NDA you signed and you could get fired. Or worse, you could fall in love.
Content Warning: In order to avoid spoilers I will not be warning you of everything. This story will contain sexually explicit material around the world of BDSM. Please remember that even with the age gap betweeen Joel and Reader, they are both legal and consenting adults. Although my intentions are never to trigger anyone, you are solely responsible for the content you consume. That being said, as a survivor of sexual assault none of this story will contain dubcon or consensual non consent. At the heart of it all, this is a love story.
AN: I figured that @mermaidgirl30, @littlevenicebitch69, @burntheedges and @joelmillerisapunk are all sick of me yelling at them about this story so I should start sharing! Thank you to the 4 of you for all your kind words and encouragement. To the 800+ of you that follow me, thank you for being such beautiful souls and encouraging me to work on my craft. I hope you love this series as much as I love each and every one of you. Dividers by @saradika-graphics
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Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5 - Part One
Chapter 5 - Part Two
Chapter 6 - Coming November
Chapter 7 - Coming December
*Chapter count and release dates could change*
Follow @mountainsandmayhem-updates and turn on notifications for updates.
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ervans · 1 year ago
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Care for You (Mizu x F!reader)
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warnings: mentions of blood, wounds, and violence, soft sex, fingering (r! receiving)
a/n: wow. it's been a minute since i've truly sat down and wrote something. i'm absolutely obsessed with BES and mizu, i haven't felt so passionate about something since TLOU. this is my adaptation of what seems to be the most cliche scenario in this fandom so far: reader finding an injured mizu. i'm a bit rusty when it comes to writing so any and all feedback is welcome and appreciated, follows and notes as well. i have more ideas for works surrounding mizu (including a brothel fic muahahaha) so keep your eyes peeled for my posts :))
The sound of your sandals shuffling against the ground and your heavy pants were the only noises that pierced the otherwise quiet night. The moon, stars, and faint glow of your home in the distance were your only source of light as you trekked up the hill where the soft orange hue was coming from. The walk up this specific hill usually caused you no trouble, having done it dozens of times; however, this time was a tad bit different. Why? The limp, unconscious body that was currently draped over your shoulder.
Earlier in the evening you had heard a commotion down at the lake below the hill your home rested on. It was normal for stragglers, crooks, and opium addicts to travel through this part of Japan and mixing those groups of people usually ended up in some sort of fight. You had paid no mind to the noise, continuing with your cleaning. It wasn’t until you realized you needed more water for your tea that you made your way down the hill. As you reached the shore and saw the mess in front of you your stomach lurched.
Four bodies laid lifeless in front of you on the sand. From what you could tell they all had various stab and slash wounds across their bodies. Fifteen feet away from the tattered bodies lay another smaller one clad in baggy black trousers and stockings, a dark blue haori, and white scarf around his neck with a brown straw hat, round glasses with an orange tinted lens, and a sword, the telltale sign of a samurai on the ground beside him.
 From where you stood you could see his chest still moving as he tried to shallowly breathe in oxygen from the air surrounding his struggling body. That brings you to where you are now, struggling up a damn hill trying to save this unknown samurai’s life. Was he responsible for the four bodies you had pushed into the lake? It didn’t matter to you; you weren’t one to judge in a world where it was kill or be killed.
You push the door to your house open and lay the injured stranger onto your mat near the fire. You start to boil water to disinfect whatever wounds he had and open a drawer to grab a needle and thread just in case stitches were needed. They very much were. You quickly realized the source of what seemed like never-ending blood on the top half of his body as you stripped the bloodstained clothing away. A gash about 4 inches long and deeper than you’d like it to be starting towards the base of his ribcage, skin around it starting to turn a yellowish color. It almost distracted you from the way the stranger was wearing chest wraps. Almost.
You frowned looking down at the shallow breathing of the samurai’s chest. Why would he need chest wraps? You thought, fingers brushing over the once white cloth now stained. Unless? You slowly started to undo the bindings, telling yourself you needed to anyways to properly clean the wound. As the cloth unraveled in your hands your small suspicion was confirmed. Two small breasts sat atop the chest of the slender samurai that laid before you, nipples hardening as they became exposed to the air. Your eyebrows raised, head tilting slightly to the side. A female samurai? How? Questions began to fill your mind as you started to clean the wound, gently washing it with the now hot water. It was unheard of for a woman to even touch a sword as it was said to make the blade impure. Where had this woman gotten her sword? Who did she get taught by? Clearly from the mess on the beach she knew her way around a fight.
You finished cleaning and stitching the larger wound and got to work on disinfecting the smaller cuts and scrapes on the upper half of her body. Once you were satisfied with your work, you began removing the woman’s trousers and stockings, revealing another deep gash running from the top of her knee down to her shin. Sighing you started the same process as her chest and prepared yourself for the unknown amount of time you would be caring for this mysterious female samurai.
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It took three days for the samurai to fully regain her consciousness. In those days you had changed the dressings on her wounds, forced broth and water down her throat for some form of sustenance, and carefully studied her whenever you found the chance to. You noticed small things others would easily miss. The way her face seemed like it was always in a permanent frown, her subtly toned muscles from what had to be from years of training, how her calloused hands would twitch in her sleep, stress being the cause of it you had concluded after watching her for a good hour whilst you sipped on your tea, and how insanely handsome she was. Wait what? Handsome? That thought scared you so much that you had refused to watch her for the remainder of the evening besides checking her wounds thoroughly before you went to bed. But you couldn’t ignore those thoughts that plagued your head as your touch lingered for more time than it should’ve.
You were sat cross-legged waiting for your tea to steep when you heard a thud from behind you. Quickly turning around to find what the source of the noise was, you were met with the samurai staring back at you, blue eyes shining in the dimly lit space. And oh, were they blue. You had never seen or known something could be as piercingly blue as the eyes that met yours.
“Who are you? Where am I?” The samurai demanded in a gravelly voice that sent a shiver up your spine. You couldn’t bring yourself to answer right away, mouth slightly agape with shock at the stranger who had, just minutes ago, been passed out. “I asked you a question, now answer it.” She said sternly after a beat of silence between the two of you.
You blinked, raising an eyebrow and rising to your feet. “Well that’s no way to talk to someone who saved your life now is it?”
The woman, stern frown never leaving her features, quickly looked around the room taking in her surroundings. She then looked down at herself, usual blue haori missing and replaced with a softer red one. You hadn’t wanted to leave her bare in the middle of your home and opted to dress her in one of yours while you worked on scrubbing the stains out of hers.
You saw her tentatively try to move, and the flash of pain the appeared on her face for just a second didn’t go unnoticed by you. She pursed her lips and looked back up at you. “Thank you for stitching me up, but I would rather not stay a hostage here any longer. I have more important places to be.”
Your eyes widen and you scoff. “Hostage? Are you fucking serious? By all means you can leave, makes my life ten times easier if you do.” You were lying, you quite enjoyed caring for the handsome samurai, but you would never admit that to her. At least not now. “Good luck walking on that knee by the way, I’m sure it won’t be any trouble for you though.”
You crossed your arms and leaned against the wall as the blue-eyed woman looked you up and down once more before attempting to get up. After a few minutes she was standing, hand against the top of the fireplace to keep her from falling over. You could see her chest rising and falling quickly from the struggle of just standing. She looked back over at you, still leaning with your arms crossed. “Where are my belongings?”
“On the table to your right.” You responded, eyes never leaving hers. You watched her glance over to the table. It was about five feet away; it should’ve been no problem for her to walk over and grab her things. Should’ve. It took her almost ten minutes to reach the edge of the table, her injured leg making it difficult to have a full range of motion. She opted to shuffle inch by inch over to the edge. By the time she got there she was out of breath, looking down at her hands placed on the wood in front of her. You hadn’t moved at all, the only change being your expression shifting from annoyance to amusement as you watched the fit samurai struggle.
After a moment she let out a shaky breath. You saw her knuckles tighten as if she was having an internal battle with herself. “Can you help me back to the mat?” She asked so quietly you almost missed it. You pushed yourself off the wall and walked over to where she stood, taking notice in the way her legs were shaking from lack of use over the past three days. She refused to look at you as you placed her arm over your shoulders and helped guide her back to the mat on the floor. “Thank you.” She muttered.
You looked at her, worry spreading across your features. “Of course. I’m here for anything you need. Consider me your personal caretaker.” You joked. “Although, a good caretaker should know her patients name.” Your words hung in the air for a moment before she responded.
“Mizu.”
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It had been three weeks since Mizu had introduced herself to you. She didn’t talk much about her personal life, which you respected, instead filling the silence between the two of you with your own stories from your childhood. In that time her leg wound had been healing considerably quick, mostly due to the bedrest you ordered her to stay on. The only time she was allowed to move her legs was when she needed to relieve herself or when you would do small stretches with her to keep her blood flow moving. After some time, she was able to get up and walk for short periods of time on her own. The only problem with her quick recovery in her leg was the fact that her chest wound had hardly any progress to it.
Since Mizu couldn’t walk for some time, she exerted all her energy to her upper half, much to your dismay. She would sit up on the mat doing stretches on her arms and shoulders, sometimes raising them so far up you were afraid a stitch was going to pop. It did.
Mizu had been practicing arm movements with her sword, stating that “If I want to achieve my goals, my skills must always be honed and sharp.” Bullshit you thought. She just wanted to aggravate you. How could you tell? The small smirk that would grace her lips whenever she went to pick up her sword, even after you told her it was dangerous, and she could hurt herself anymore. Alas, she was a stubborn woman and it’s how you ended up rushing inside from chopping wood after hearing a sharp yelp from inside your home.
She sat on her mat, one hand clutching the spot above her wound while the other reached for the needle and thread you always kept close by. Once you realized she was going to try to stitch herself back up you rushed over to snatch the needle from her hands and straddle her lap, careful of the wound on her knee. She looked startled for a moment before her whole face turned a deep shade of red once she realized the position you both were in. You had a faint blush as well as you plucked the thread from her hand as well.
“I’m not letting you stitch yourself. You’re going to make your injury worse.” You said looking down at her. She looked up at you with those damn blue eyes you could get lost in for ages, cheeks still red but an amused expression on her face.
“You don’t think I know how to stitch myself up?”
You laughed awkwardly. “Well, no. I just…you just…you just popped a stitch by doing something I told you not to do! How can I be sure you’ll do it correctly?!” Mizu laughed. A sound so beautiful you were sure it would play through your mind for months to come. “I guess you have a point. C’mon then doc, fix me up.” She smirked. You felt your face grow even hotter.
Still straddling her you pushed her robe off her shoulders revealing her chest wraps with blood from the reopened wound soaking through them. You gulped. To stitch her back up you’d have to remove her bindings. And this time she was awake. And would definitely take notice in the way your eyes would roam her chest. Sensing your hesitation, she smiled looking up at you. “What? It’s not like you haven’t seen them before, obviously you have, or I wouldn’t have stitches here.” She was teasing you, you realized. “Here I’ll make it easier for you.” Her hand reached around to begin to undo her wraps. You sat there dumbfounded as they fell to the floor and her breasts were exposed to you once again.
“You just gonna stare sweetheart or are you gonna patch me up?” Mizu’s teasing question broke you out of your trance as you swallowed thickly and got to work on restitching her wound. You felt her piercing gaze on you the entire time and did your best to try and ignore the warm feeling in the pit of your stomach.
Later that night after the excitement of the day you sat sipping on your tea while Mizu slept next to the fire. You couldn’t stop thinking about her. Those beautiful blue eyes, the way her lips turned up into a smirk whenever it seemed you were flustered, and the sound of her laugh plagued you. You hadn’t felt like this in a long time.
Suddenly Mizu woke with a gasp, shooting up from the mat. You turned to her startled as you took in her appearance. Eyes wide with fear, chest heaving up and down, and her hands gripping tightly onto her blanket. “Nightmare?” You asked softly as to not startle her even more than she was. She just nodded as she looked at you, eyes bright in the darkness.
You softly rose to your feet, padded over to where was sat up, and sat down next to her. Her eyes had never left your figure as you made your way to her. You looked down at the blanket, then back up to her asking a silent question.
Slowly she lifted the blanket up and laid back down, giving you room to scoot in next to her. You wrapped your arms around her and brought her closer to your chest in the most intimate position the both of you had ever been in. You had never slept as well as you did that night.
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It had been four days since Mizu’s nightmare, and every night since then you two had slept together, arms wrapped around each other. The dynamic between you had changed drastically, lingering touches and glances to each other becoming a new normal.
Tonight was no different to the past few. You lay facing Mizu while her back was turned to the fire, tracing circles into her rough and calloused hands. The silence was comfortable, but you chose to break it in that moment.
“When do you think you’ll leave?” A flash of hurt ran across Mizu’s face.
“I can leave whenever you want me to, I think I’m healed enough by now. Would you like me to leave tomorrow?” Your heart clenched at the sadness in her voice. You didn’t want that at all.
“No,” you whispered. “I don’t want you to leave me. Ever.” Her eyes softened, moving closer to you she brushed her nose against yours.
“Then I won’t.”
Your lips met her soft ones in a searing kiss, one that knocked the air right out of your lungs. You let out at soft noise as she titled her head, running her tongue across your bottom lip to deepen the kiss and ask for permission to enter. You parted your mouth for her, tongues running against each other as she rolled on top of you, straddling your hips. Her fingers ran down your sides and under your top, tips of them brushing the underside of your breasts as you pushed your chest up into her, silently asking for more.
She pulled away from the kiss, a trail of spit the only thing keeping you connected, and smiled. “I’m going to need you to tell me you want more. Tell me you want it and I’ll stay.”
You moaned at her words. “Yes! Mizu please I want it, I need you.” She leaned down to kiss you once those words left your lips, fingers moving up to circle and pinch your hardened nipples. You let out a gasp into Mizu’s mouth at the sensation and she smiled into you, moving her head to trail kisses down your face to your neck, sucking a purple mark just below your ear.
You raised your arms over your head as she stripped you of your top, eyes lingering on your now bare breasts. “Beautiful.” Was all she said. You let out a whimper at her words. She kissed down your shoulders to your breasts and licked a long stripe up your nipple, the sensation causing you to moan and buck your hips up into hers. As she continued her assault on your breasts, her hand traveled lower down your stomach and slipped her hand into your trousers to run a finger through your slick folds.
You were a moaning, withering mess below her at this point. Between her mouth on your tits and her finger slowly brushing against your clit, you weren’t sure how much more you could take. “Please Mizu. I need you, please.” You begged, grinding your hips up into her hand hoping she got the message. She did. Slowly she pushed her middle finger into your wet heat, savoring the noise that left your lips as she did. Experimentally she curled her finger, finding that spongy spot at the front of your walls.
It wasn’t enough for you. “More, I need more.” You whimpered. Smiling against your breast, she pushed another finger in, thrusting at a quicker pace. You were close, she could tell by the way your pussy clenched around her digits. You just needed one last thing to push you over the edge. Removing her mouth from your nipple, she brought her forehead against yours admiring the way your mouth was slightly agape and the furrow between your brows.
“Open your eyes. You’re to look at me when you cum.”
At her words and her thumb suddenly circling your clit matching the pace at which she thrust, your eyes shot open meeting her icy blue ones, the last thread keeping you from falling snapping.
“‘m gonna cum Mizu, fuck m’ gonna fuckfuck-“ You were sent over the edge, cunt clenching and gushing around her fingers while your back arched off the mat, eyes never leaving hers as she guided and talked you through it.
As you caught your breath, chest heaving, she peppered soft kisses all over your face causing you to giggle breathlessly. She smiled down at you as you looked up at her still panting. “Give me a second, let me return the favor.” She leaned down capturing your lips once again as she removed her fingers from your core, wiping the slick on her pants and rolling to lay next to you. She pulled you into her chest and nuzzled her nose into your hair.
“You’ve taken care of me these last few weeks, let me take care of you. We have all the time in the world, I promise I’m not going anywhere.”
And Mizu always kept her promises.
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minswriting · 5 months ago
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DIRTY IMPULSES - Spencer Reid x Reader
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About: Spencer prided himself in being someone that didn’t rely on their hormones when dealing with others. But when he met you, he just couldn’t help himself.
Warnings: NSFW Content, MDNI, Perverted! Spencer x Clueless Reader, dirty thoughts, masturbation (m), brief mentions of a case with usual criminal minds violence, etc.
Word Count: 1,000 words
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Throughout his whole life, Spencer hadn’t been someone that was really interested in others. He prioritized education above anything else. He hadn’t really felt attraction to others until puberty. And even then, he didn’t deviate from his education. In his career, he was the same way. He put his work above personal relationships, his colleagues becoming his best of friends. He never understood the need for romantic partners or sexual relationships.
Until he met you.
The day you had walked into the bureau, dressed in this form fitting pant suit, there was a fire that ignited in Spencer. And he didn’t even know what it truly was. He had taken it as a sign to get close to you, to become your friend. And so he did. The two of you got along greatly, having much more in common than he would have assumed. You both enjoyed classic literature, you listened to him when he yapped about god knows what, you both had extensive knowledge on the cases you work on. It wasn’t hard for you guys to become close so quickly.
It was like you were made to be in Spencer’s life. To say he grew a crush on you quickly was an understatement. Your presence never failed to brighten his day. Your smile always enlivened the room. And the way you nodded your head as Spencer spewed random information, asking questions when you wanted clarification, adding on your own thoughts occasionally, well it made Spencer feel heard for once.
Each and everyday, Spencer looked forward to just being around you. At first his thoughts and motives were innocent. That was until one night, when Hotch had called everyone into the office on the night everyone was supposed to be off, and you came in wearing a provocative cocktail dress with your hair done immaculately and a face full of makeup. That was the day Spencer’s cock hardened at work for the first time. And from there on out, his thoughts took a wild turn.
It’s not like he meant them to. The average person has about anywhere from 12,000 thoughts to 60,000 thoughts per day. And he swore that at least half of those thoughts were completely normal. However, the other half? Well, they certainly shocked Spencer quite a bit. Especially as he had never been so…driven by his hormones before.
Anytime he saw you, he couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to have you on your knees, looking up at him with those pretty eyes glistening with tears as his cock was forcibly thrusting in and out of your mouth. Messy hair, glossy eyes, the feeling of you gagging on his cock, the thought never failed to make Spencer cum in his pants. The first time he thought about that was the night you had shown up in that dress. He had to make an emergency stop to the bathroom before boarding the jet that night.
And now? Well, Spencer was at home, thinking about the case you guys had just finished. It took place in a rural part of Texas. A man had been murdering business women that had an “alpha” female personality. You and Spencer had to share a hotel room and the room turned out to only have one bed. It was like a dream come true for Spencer’s cock.
Night after night, sleeping next to you, talking to you about random things, accidentally cuddling one another. It had taken everything in Spencer’s power to not just bury his face in between your legs and make you cry out his name.
Spencer felt his cock hardening in his pants as he thought about your time together over the past week. There was this one instance where you had gone to take a shower but had forgotten your clothes. So he had to hand you your pajamas himself and he accidentally saw your tits. Now that lives rent free in his head. Letting out a soft groan, Spencer undid his pants, pulling them down enough so his cock was out.
He was already so hard and leaking precum just thinking about you. He whimpered as he thumbed the tip before wrapping his hand around his cock and pumping slowly. Spencer just seemed as though he couldn’t help himself when he was around you. Which is how he landed a pair of your used panties that sat on his desk. Part of him felt gross, ashamed. But his arousal outweighed the guilt he felt.
With his other hand, Spencer grabbed the fabric, bringing it to his nose as he inhaled deeply. He jerked himself off faster, smelling the faint scent of your cunt on your panties. Oh how he yearned to bury his cock inside of you. To see you whining underneath him as he fucked you. He would make sure you came at least twice before allowing himself the pleasure.
“Fuck,” he moaned, throwing his head back in pleasure as his thoughts were consumed by you. Your moans would be absolutely beautiful, heavenly even. Spencer could feel the heat building inside of him, signaling he was getting closer. He pumped himself faster, imagining how wet your pussy must be naturally as he sniffed the panties. And with a choked moan, Spencer began to cum, painting his hand and his chest.
He let out a deep sigh, finally relieved. And after a few moments, the shame and guilt overcame him. Spencer sat there for a moment, feeling bad about what he had just done. But that didn’t stop him when later that night, he fucked the pair of panties. And the next day, when you asked Spencer if he had accidentally taken the pair or if you had left it in the hotel, he had simply shrugged and shook his head no.
And two days later, you found your lost pair of panties in your go-bag, cleaned, having smelt much like the laundry detergent that Spencer used.
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