#i need this man to be safe in all forms and LOVED

[cruel-as-sin]

take the weight off his shoulders | logan howlett

↳ summary: you're a stripper and old man!logan comes into the club where you work- so you decide to show him a good time.

word count: 3k

song: older | isabel larosa

pairings: old man!logan x fem!stripper!reader

content warnings: 18+ content (MDNI), smut, porn w/o plot, prostitution/strip clubs, age gap (readers age is unspecified but she is an adult), praise kink, gentle sex, striptease and lapdance hehe, size difference, protected p in v, grinding, handjob, lingerie mentioned, the glasses stay on, practice safe sex everyone (lmk if i missed anything!)

↳ a/n: ao3 saw this first and it took way too long for me to move it over to tumblr but. here it is lmao. as i said there old man logan does something CRAZY to me so it was only fitting i wrote about him, enjoy! also this is not proofread so apologies for any mistakes :’)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Logan's not sure why he goes into the club across the street.

Maybe he needs to feel young again. Maybe he's bored. Maybe the adamantium poisoning the rest of him has finally managed to get to his brain and turned his thoughts into some sort of horny, befuddled shit show.

Or maybe, just maybe, he really is just that fucking desperate.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

It's past midnight when he walks through the door. You've been busy all night, but things are finally starting to wind down, the customers that frequent the small establishment slowly trickling out until only a few remain. None of them are your regulars, and given how empty the doorway has been, you're honestly considering calling it a night and going home early. The past few days have been hellish, full of people who didn't do a damn thing to turn you on, and you'd love nothing more than to sink into a warm, cozy bed and drift off to sleep. Tonight, you've been roaming the floor for the past hour without getting anything- everybody is either interested in another one of the workers or entirely fixated on the dancers.

It's not that you don't like your job- you do. Sure, being a stripper isn't the most flattering form of work, but the bills are paid. That's all that really counts these days. Your pride has long since been discarded in favor of earning hefty tips from the sleazy guys who are dumb enough to believe that you'd actually be into them. You put on a good show, of course, but if it weren't for the money? Not a fucking chance.

You like it that way. Hardly any of your clients go beyond the intimacy of a private dance, mainly because you don't let them, reserving that for your favorites. But you haven't met someone who turns you on in a long while, and without the occasional thrill of a real good time from a customer, you're starting to get bored. The days are blurring together, nothing separating the good days from the bad ones, if there even is such a thing anymore.

You're on your way to ask your boss if you can get off early when you hear the bell ring. You groan internally, realizing that you're the only one on the floor who isn't occupied, meaning if this client is interested, they're yours.

Damn it.

So much for an early night.

You're midway through praying to whatever God is out there that this client tips well when you turn and actually lay eyes on them. The moment you do, your mind goes blank, your prayers long forgotten as your thoughts become consumed by him.

He's older- much older. Pushing sixty, at least. It's not inherently a bad thing, but typically the older they are, the more entitled they become.

You're not usually into older men, finding them self-centered, greedy, unable to keep up with your desires; but you're not even ashamed to admit that this stranger could ask you to do just about anything and you'd probably agree in a heartbeat.

The man is tall, big, his muscular form obvious even underneath the suit and tie he wears. His salt and pepper hair is short, accompanied by a scruffy beard you're certain would feel like heaven against your thighs. His tie is loose, his top button undone, and he's got on a pair of dollar-store glasses that he hasn't even pulled the tag off of. There's a weight to him, an exhaustion that seems to have infiltrated the deepest parts of his soul, as if he's seen things you couldn't even begin to fathom- and yet, he's here, seeking some semblance of relief.

Lucky for him, you know exactly how to give it to him.

He looks around like he's lost, the colorful lights and sultry music overwhelming, the center stage where your coworkers get dollar bills thrown at their feet foreign to him. By the time you've made your way over, your legs moving of their own accord, he's turning to leave. "Hey." You call out, and he stops, turning back around to face you.

He's even bigger up close, and his eyes roam over your form almost shamefully before finally meeting your own. "I was just leaving." His voice is rough, a little scratchy, and while you're sure it's supposed to be intimidating, all it does is further fuel the heat pooling between your legs.

"So soon?" You look up at him with a doe-eyed gaze you're well aware makes men weak in the knees.

"I shouldn't be here." He says, but he doesn't walk away from you.

You move a little closer so your breath is fanning across his neck, your voice dripping with suggestion. "I could show you a good time."

"Listen, sweetheart, I've got-"

Sweetheart.

"Let me take care of you." You lean up to whisper in his ear. Your breath is hot against his skin, your mouth tantalizingly close, and you can feel the way he twitches slightly- an exercise of self-control.

A moment passes, two, and he lets out a long breath. "Fuck, darlin'." He reaches out, hesitant to touch, as if he's not sure how this works, doesn’t want to cross some invisible line he hasn’t learned exists. You take his hand, guiding it to your waist, reaching up to put one hand on the back of his neck. "You sure know how to get a guy wrapped around your finger."

In response, you give a coy smile, taking his tie in one hand and giving it a soft tug. He allows you to guide him, pulling him along by the tie you're sure he has a million ideas of what to do with.

You lead him into a private room, pulling the curtain closed behind you, letting his tie slip out of your grasp. His eyes dart around for a moment, but then you're in front of him again, reaching up and sliding his blazer off of his shoulders. You hang it up on the wall, then return, now slowly guiding him backwards and giving him a gentle shove into the leather chair near the wall. He raises an eyebrow as you circle him, leaning in from behind to whisper in his ear. "Just relax." You murmur, letting your lips graze his neck before pulling away. He leans back, eyes following your every move, a stare that feels like it could set you on fire.

You put on a good show for him- dancing, teasing, tantalizingly close, but never touching. Not yet. You can see the hunger in his gaze, the restraint it takes for him not to pull you down into his lap and keep you there. You give him a strip tease, taking off your bra and letting your breasts go free. His eyes roam over you, a murmured word, "Beautiful," leaving his lips, and that makes your already soaked panties drenched.

Then you give him a lap dance- and unlike most of the men you meet, he doesn't touch, doesn't paw at you. Instead he waits, lets you set the pace, doesn't do anything without your permission. Your hands go to his tie, undoing it at a speed you know is killing him, tossing it aside.

Finally, you rest yourself entirely on his lap, and whisper in his ear. "You can touch now, if you want to."

His hands immediately settle on your hips, like they belong there. You grind down against him, feeling him tense beneath you at the friction against his clothed cock. You repeat the motion, relishing in the groan it elicits from him. His grip on your hips tightens slightly, and he begins to guide your motions, pressing you down against his thigh in a way that makes you moan. It's a small, soft sound, but it still makes him smile. “Atta girl, that’s it.” He huffs approvingly. You keep going, feeling yourself almost get lost in the rhythmic movement before you come back to your senses.

Your hands move to the collar of his shirt, slowly beginning to undo the buttons, revealing his toned chest. You only get about halfway down before his hands are gripping your wrists, and your protest dies on your lips when he leans up and kisses you.

He tastes like cigar smoke and whiskey, a blend that should be uncomfortable but is somehow pleasant. His tongue slips into your mouth, tangling with yours as he pulls you closer. By the time he finally pulls away for air, you're dizzy, flushed.

A kiss- almost as personal as a name.

You've never met a man who could make you feel like this- and certainly not without getting all your clothes off first.

His words snap you out of your breathless haze. "Let me touch you, baby." His voice is both a plea and a demand, and who are you to deny him such a request?

A simple nod is all it takes before his hands are on you, roving over your breasts with an appreciative groan. You can't help the way your hips rock against him, and one of his hands goes down to your ass, encouraging you to grind against him again. His other hand rolls your nipple between his thumb and index finger, while his mouth leaves sloppy kisses along your neck, down to your breasts.

You bury your face in his neck, breathing him in. His head comes up from your chest to whisper in your ear as he keeps your hips moving back and forth, his other hand alternating between your breasts. His skin muffles your moans, but you know he won't let you hide those pretty sounds from him forever. "You're so perfect." His words don't exactly do you any favors in the 'keeping your composure' department. "Sweet, pretty thing like you..." He nips at your earlobe, making you gasp softly. "You got no idea what you do to me."

Those words snap you back a little, remind you of your promise to take care of him. You raise your head up, leaning back a little to meet his eyes. "Then show me." Your hands reach down towards his belt, and this time, he doesn't stop you. Instead, his gaze roams over you as you unbuckle it, slowly pull it out of the loops of his pants, toss it aside, letting it join the other discarded articles littering the floor. You undo the buttons, then pull his pants down.

Even through his boxers, you can clearly see the outline of his aching hardness. You gently take him in your palm, running your hand along him through the fabric, watching the way his eyes flutter. Then you adjust yourself so you're grinding on him again, thin layers of clothing the only thing separating the two of you.

You go on like that for a little while, keeping track of every little sound he makes, every hitch of his breath and shudder that goes through his body. Then you lean back, pulling his boxers down, freeing his cock from the confines of his clothing.

Immediately, your mouth waters. He's huge, the biggest you've ever seen, and you find yourself wondering if you even can take him.

You push that thought aside for now, swiping your thumb across his tip, smiling to yourself at the groan that leaves him. You repeat the motion, letting precum gather on your fingers as you begin to move your hand up and down, up and down. You start slow, stroking him gently, then gradually increase your pace. Midway through, you grab a condom with your other hand, keeping eye contact as you open the wrapper with your teeth. You roll it onto him in one smooth motion, earning a startled grunt. His head falls back, his breaths coming unevenly, and it takes him a while before he can manage a coherent sentence.

"Fuck, you treat every guy like this?" Even with all the energy he can muster, the words are still a little short.

Your smile widens, and you lean in to press a kiss against the vein of his throat. "Only the good ones."

His mouth opens, as if to argue with the notion that he's anything good, but your ever-faster movements silence any protests that could have come from him.

You can tell he's getting close, and you slow down, letting him breathe a little slower as you whisper a soft question. "Where do you want me? You want my mouth, you want-"

Your words are cut off by his hand cupping your clothed mound, a gasp escaping you. "I want this." His voice is rough, and this time, it's not a plea. He leans in, his breath hot against your ear as you unconsciously begin to move against his hand, chasing any friction he can give you. "I think it's a little unfair, seeing how I'm all out in the open and you've still got these," His thumb hooks in the waistband of your panties. "Separating me from you, hmm?

You don't even answer, just raise your hips up slightly so he can tug your lingerie down your legs until it falls and hits the floor. Immediately, his gaze lands on your exposed cunt. "Jesus, you're soaked." He murmurs, running his fingers through your slick. You whine as he brushes against your clit, and he chuckles. "Need me that bad, huh?"

"Need you." You whine. You can tell he wants to take it slow, to tease you, and by god do you want to let him- but you're impatient, your own teasing having riled you up too much to do anything but fuck him. Luckily, he picks up on your silent request, raising your hips to hover above his cock. His gaze searches yours, waiting for permission, and you nod. "Fuck me." You say softly, and it takes everything in him not to come completely fucking undone at that sweet tone of voice.

Slowly, painfully slowly, he lowers you down onto him. It burns, in a delicious way you've come to love in your years here. Even with the sheer amount of wetness coming from you, it's still a struggle to make him fit- but he does. When you've finally sank all the way down onto his cock, he lets you breathe for a moment. "You can take it, baby." He murmurs reassuringly- a support and a chance for you to back out. You close your eyes, breathing in and out, resting your face in the crook of his neck again.

Then you start to move.

It takes him by surprise, and you like the grunt that comes from him. For someone of his age, you're sure not much can catch him off guard anymore, so that makes it all the better when you lean back to see the look on his face. He catches your small smirk and returns it with one of his own, letting you move yourself up and down, over and over. Your pace slowly increases as the two of you adjust, and the room is soon filled with soft noises and the sound of flesh against flesh.

It's slow, almost sensual, but despite the circumstances that should have you turning this in another direction, you like it. You feel that familiar coil building in your stomach, your soft whimpers turning to moans now.

"You gonna come for me, baby?"

All you can do is nod, and he rocks his hips up into yours. The way he fills you up is mind-numbing, until you can't think of anything else but him and how fucking good he's making you feel, how badly you need to come undone on his cock.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck-" Your voice takes on a sharp pitch as he thrusts up into you, and your vision goes white for a moment as your orgasm hits you, unending bliss shaking your whole body. He rides out your orgasm for as long as he can, but the tight feeling of your cunt clenching around him soon sends him over the edge too. You can feel him twitching inside you, only prolonging the aftershocks of your own pleasure.

Eventually, you both come down. You're breathing heavily, trying to scramble together any semblance of thought. He stands suddenly, picking you up like you weigh nothing and setting you down on the chair. His cock slips out of you at some point during the process, leaving you feeling empty. You sit there for a moment before opening your eyes, finding him pulling his pants up and buckling his belt. He meets your gaze with a hint of a fond smile, bending over to grab his tie.

You stand up to retrieve your own clothes, pulling them back on while he shoves his arms through the sleeves of his blazer and rifles through his pockets, eventually pulling out his wallet. "Um, how much do I owe you?"

He looks almost embarrassed, and you find it kind of adorable. You flash him a smile, saying words you never thought you'd dare to let pass your lips. "Nothing. It's on me."

Immediately, his eyebrow shoots up. "No, I can't... I can't let you do that, pretty girl."

You shake your head. "I insist. Nobody's ever fucked me like that, and certainly not any of my clients." You see the way your words boost his ego- good. He deserves it. "Besides, if you hadn't showed up, I'd have gone home anyway." You say nonchalantly, taking a few steps over to him. You reach up and put a finger to his lips before he can continue to argue. "It's on the house."

Although he still looks conflicted, he reluctantly nods. "Okay. Next time, then."

Next time.

You feel a thrill run through your body as he brings up the prospect of a next time, and your smile widens. "Next time." You affirm. You step back, letting him be on his way.

He moves towards the curtain, pausing before he goes. "See you around, sweetheart."

And just like that, he's gone.

But you don't miss him- because you know he'll be back.

So when you finally make it home and climb into bed after that warm shower, there's still a fond smile on your face as you drift off to sleep, dreaming of the weary stranger and his wonderful words.

[b-skarsgard]

https://parade.com/movies/bill-skarsgard-nosferatu-interview-exclusive

Skarsgård's vampiric transformation does make him virtually unrecognizable. Combining full-body prosthetics and elaborate costumes, the actor built the character with Eggers over a 10-year period, even working with an operatic vocal coach on a completely new voice. If you're able to spot Skarsgård in the film, hats off to you.

Of course crafting a new version of Dracula/Orlok was certainly a momentous task. Skarsgård's been told there were already over "170 different adaptations" of the character prior to his own. He's humbly giving much of the credit for his own transformation to Eggers' screenplay, though.

full article at the link and under the cut

"I read Robert's Nosferatu script almost 10 years ago, and it hasn't changed all that much in those 10 years," he says. "So the version of Dracula was already different on the page."

Step one in the transformation was the voice. "I was really enamored by Orlok's language," Skarsgård says of Eggers' script. "He's technically speaking German in the movie, but it's English. I think he's learned German just from reading all of these texts and old books. It's this awkwardly constructed English that came out of that."

Orlok's voice was especially important in this film as the character spends much of the film hiding in the shadows to keep his true form hidden from Thomas Hutter (Nicholas Hoult). "The movie monster tends to not have much dialogue, but in this case he has a lot," Skarsgård reflects. "So the voice became my way of expressing the character."

The deep gravely voice in the film was the product of acclaimed Icelandic opera singer Ásgerður Júníusdóttir. "We explored the voice together, but also the technicality of using your entire body when you speak and placing the voice as low as you can in your body," Skarsgård says. "It's a new world for me, and I love voice work. I was just absorbing all of these tools that I'm going to use as my career progresses."

Layered on top of the vocal work were Linda Muir's costumes, what Skarsgård describes as "historically accurate costumes that a 16th-century Hungarian nobleman would have worn. They're the clothes he would have worn when he was a man."

While Focus Features is keeping Orlok's appearance under wraps for as long as possible, you can see the massive fur coat Skarsgård donned in the shadowy poster.

"I knew the shadow was going to be an ally for Orlok, especially in the scenes with Thomas, where he's hiding his appearance," he says. "So he lives in the shadow, and he uses his big fur cape and the hat to not give away what he is. The shadow became a friend."

Perhaps the most impressive element of Skarsgård's transformation, however, was David White's prosthetic makeup, which took hours to apply each day, was difficult to act through and painful to wear. When I ask if he was able to cheat on days he was in the shadows, Skarsgård says no with one exception: "Every single shadow in this movie is also me puppeteering behind camera. That was the only time where I didn't need to have the full regalia on.

"The full prosthetics would take six hours to apply. "It's just uncomfortable," Skarsgård says of having to sit in the chair that long. "And any sense of privacy goes out the window. You become very close with the team that's applying this makeup. They're really getting up in there with a brush in your ass crack. They become your little safe space."

And the six-hour application process was just the beginning of what could be long, physical days on set. The film's final moments involve a sex scene between Orlok and Lily-Rose Depp's Ellen Hutter, which Skarsgård performed in head-to-toe prosthetics.

"I don't know her perspective on, 'I'm going to kiss this monster,'" Skarsgård says about his (fully clothed? skinned? suited?) sex scene, "But for me, when we shot, I was Orlok, and I really, really, really wanted to devour her."

If performing a sex scene in a hot latex bodysuit sounds miserable, that's because it was. "The actual final moment of Orlok was incredibly physically exhausting because there was a lot of technical camera work," Skarsgård says. "What's in the movie, I had to do that 30 times." If you've seen the film, you'll know how truly arduous that experience must have been.

The most difficult day on set for Skarsgård, however, involved a sequence filmed on a boat during Orlok's transfer from his castle in Transylvania to the German harbor he plans to terrorize next. In one scene that involved "pretty tricky advanced camera work," a seaman descends into the hull of the ship to "rid the boat of this demon." As the camera follows the sailor, Skarsgård's Orlok is initially seen behind the man in the shadows.

"Then I have to exit frame, run around and enter my position for when the jump scare pans down to the rats and then pans up and I'm standing there," Skarsgård remembers. "So it's very physical, but I was covered head to toe, except for my eyeballs and the soles of my feet. Even my palms and my hands are covered. That was a 12-hour day."

With that many prosthetics on, there's nowhere for all that sweat to go. "It doesn't breathe, and I don't think it's healthy," Skarsgård confides. "Your body's probably absorbing all those f--king toxins and glue and sh--, plastic and latex and whatever."

During the 12 hours running around the hull of a ship, Skarsgård remembers thinking, "I don't know what's happening, but my body is not doing well."

"You know the skin is your biggest organ right," he says. "So it needs to breathe. I got flashbacks from that urban legend about the woman in Goldfinger being covered in gold and actually dying. I'm like, 'Okay, this is how I go.'"

Obviously, Skarsgård did not die of heat exhaustion in a latex Dracula suit like that one cameraman in the 2022 film Babylon.

"At that point I told them—because it was a long day and I was waiting around—'We need to open it up so my body can breathe,' and then they found the pockets where I could open up and my body started to breathe."

Skarsgård compares the agony of the shoot with what he thinks childbirth would feel like. "They're not on the same level, of course. I've seen childbirth, but it's as close as I can get to giving birth as a man, as these f--king monsters I'm portraying," he says.

When I ask him if there were any other iconic monsters on his bucket list, he says he's done for now. "To play Orlok in Robert Eggers' Nosferatu is the holy grail," he says. "It's kind of the peak and, in a way, the nail in the coffin."

[leighsartworks216]

Back on my Snowcrow bullshit

Just, Sylus fucking Zayne stupid

Our poor doctor is always on, always calculating, never giving his brain the proper break it needs. He's been going full-tilt since high school if not even earlier than that - he needs a chance to shut off

So Sylus first approaches this with a relaxing getaway. A breath of fresh air out in a lodge (ahem, one of his safe houses) wouldn't hurt. Plenty of sweets and non-medical books and beautiful hiking trails - just anything to get Zayne away from that damn bustling city

It works.... ish. The problem is that Zayne doesn't really have an off switch. This is relaxing, sure, but there's that last thread of tension and thought that keeps him from ever fully letting his guard down. If it was just for losing control of his Evol, he already knows Sylus heals quickly (and on some level enjoys the pain), but whatever it is is stuck in that amazing brain of his

Sylus asks if he can try something, and though he gives very litte info on what he wants to try, Zayne agrees. Sylus trails his fingers along Zayne's throat, chin, cheek, drawing him into a kiss. When he pulls away, breaths still mingling, Zayne quirks an eyebrow at him and says dryly, "You wanted to try kissing?"

Sylus smirks and quips that that's just the start of it

And just, book abandoned on the floor as Sylus presses Zayne back into the couch, kissing him like a man starved, caressing and holding him in all the right places. Savoring all the breathy little sounds he makes, especially as he trails his mouth along Zayne's throat. He gets scolded for biting him like he does - wide and deep, leaving lasting imprints behind - but he's seen the way Zayne traces the marks when he thinks he's not watching, committing them to memory

Zayne insists they should move this to the bed. Sylus can't help agreeing, loath as he is to get off of his partner. They're stumbling through the cabin, unable to keep their hands or mouths off of each other, undressing as they go. Sylus lifts Zayne to lay in the middle of the bed, and straddles him, because he knows how much he loves when he sits in his lap. Sylus holding his face in both hands, rolling his hips slightly against Zayne's, panting as he pulls away to look into the hazy, adoring eyes of his sweet doctor. Speaks between little kisses, some chaste and quick while others take a few seconds, "I want... to try... fucking every last thought... out of that damn head of yours..." If Zayne wasn't a blushing mess already...

Sylus takes his sweet, sweet time with him. The foreplay alone seems to last an hour, Zayne's body all marked up and eager for more

Cut to Zayne on his hands and knees, Sylus's hand around his throat keeping him from falling into the pillows, as Sylus slowly, torturously, thrusts into him. But it's only slow right now, because just a minute ago he'd set a pace so brutal, Zayne was close to finishing. Edged over and over again, to and from his orgasm, his body aching so much to finally release, it's the only thing on his mind. Choking pleas to let him cum in between hiccuping tears as he feels the pressure ebbing

Sylus kissing and biting and sucking marks all along his neck, shoulders and back. Free hand stroking teasingly over Zayne's stomach and chest, never where he needs him most. Frost has already started to form along the headboard, snowflakes drifting from the ceiling, cold drifting up Sylus's hands. That's really how he knows he's succeeded; when the ice turns against him. He uses the chill to tease Zayne's nipples, hard and red and surrounded with bite marks

"I'll let you cum this time," he promises against the shell of Zayne's ear. "You've earned it, my beloved, haven't you?" He speeds up, increasing back to the insane pace from before, while Zayne can only gasp out various yesses, barely aware of what he's agreeing to, just that Sylus has sped up again. Sylus wrapping his hand around Zayne's neglected cock, letting it fuck into his hand with each thrust. Zayne's holding onto the sheets so tight he thinks they might rip, all the more reason to keep going

Zayne finishing first in weeping moans that hitch and catch in the back of his throat, cum spilling into Sylus's hand and onto the bed beautifully. Sylus's hips stuttering before pressing himself as close to Zayne's as possible, burying himself as deep as he can go, pushing into him to hard Zayne has to fight not to be choked on his hand as he's pushed forward

Sylus is slow to pull out, and watches with pride as his cum dribbles out onto Zayne's thighs and over his balls. It's all Zayne can do to stay on his shaking knees. Carefully keeping him from falling over as he helps Zayne flip over onto his back next to the mess he made. Zayne's far gone, panting with his eyes closed and face twisted into the aftershocks of pleasure. Anything he could say now wouldn't register

The ice and frost start to recede as Sylus cleans Zayne off with a warm wet washcloth, thoroughly taking care of his partner. Conscious thought starts to come back while he's wiping the tears and drool off his face, hazy green eyes fluttering open to look up at him. Sylus can't help himself from presses little kisses to the corner of his mouth and his cheeks. Zayne tries saying something, but it's all slurred together and garbled - a first, no doubt. Sylus shushes him and tells him to just lay there for a bit

Once they're (mostly) cleaned up, Sylus lays beside Zayne (opposite the remaining mess on the bed) and cuddles him, holding him close and giving Zayne the time he needs. Once the ice and snowflakes are completely gone, and their breaths have regulated themselves, Sylus kisses his head and teasingly says, "I think I succeeded, don't you?"

This was not meant to be this long I swear

[waittheydontloveyou]

Weight loss & Updates

(some TMI)

Im at 43.2 pounds lost.

I feel really proud of this yall. It’s hard for me to accept feeling proud when I know I have so much further to go.

My tummy is a lot flatter. Not getting asked if I’m pregnant so often. My face is a little thinner. I feel prettier in photos. My bf said I’m “not fat anymore”. Which he meant as a compliment I swear, bc I’d said I have a lot more weight to lose and he’s like “where? You were fat a few months ago but not now”

I have a long way to go. I’m not even out of the 200s yet but I’m close. I want to lose 50-80 pounds more. If I lose 80…that has always like my “best” weight…right on the edge of overweight but docs won’t say shit. I was that before I was running, and after (muscle gain vs fat loss evened out) I’ve never been thin thin, not since I was 18. But even then I was bigger than my friends and sisters. Always curvy. Losing 50lbs I’d still prob be considered overweight or obese even but I would be ok with that honestly, and I’d still feel comfy in a bikini again.

I got myself new scrubs for Christmas. One shirt was way too big so I’m returning it and getting a size down.(xxl vs xl, the brand usually runs way small). The other is a xl set and it’s a little tight but wearable. I’m wearing it tonight lol. I think will be perf once I lose 5-10lbs more.

Im hoping to move to an apartment around march this year. It’ll be in town instead of so rural. Way closer to kids schools so less gas. But like double what I’m paying. I just can’t take another summer and the roaches there😭 also my landlord expects me to buy a mower to mow the 10 godamn acres which is ridiculous.

I currently live where there are no sidewalks and on the side of a pretty major highway. Not safe to walk or run. The apartment will be on the 1st or 2nd floor. Will use tax return to pay deposit and maybe hire movers. I’ll be able to start walking/running again. Im the slowest runner known to man. I used “couch to 5k” last time and got up to 15 miles no problem within 6ish months. It’s the only form of exercise I’ve ever been able to do consistently. And it has to be outside. I can’t fucking do treadmills, even when I was running long distances, not sure what it is but it feels like fucking torture. I’m finally at a weight where it doesn’t hurt to just exist. I can wipe my ass no problem! LOL! I can bend over if I drop something, get out of a chair/ get out of bed without it hurting like crazy.

With papi again in case you missed that. Finishing up our convo on the future and once I get a few more questions answered I’ll know if I’m staying in hopes he’s telling the truth or if I really need to walk away now. It sounds like by December we will be moving forward/he will have saved enough for a down payment on a house for his mom. Unanswered questions: will we be getting married by December? Engaged? Living together? Buying a house? What exactly will be happening by Jan 2026? I can wait another year, year and a half to move forward. And if it’s untrue/doesn’t work out like he’s planning? I think I can walk away knowing I fucking gave it my literal all. I know no one agrees with this decision but here we are. I fucking love him and just need to try to see this through.

This Year Goals?

Apartment

Walking running again

Summer pool time w kids

Start reading again

Consider going back to school. Either to further my nursing(NP) or something I can do from home that’s completely different. Or “just for fun” maybe writing or music

Moving forward w papi

Continue weight loss

Maybe take my ex back to court

Continue towards court w my former boss. Apparently it’ll be a few more months before we get a court date bc they keep motioning to dismiss.

[yurureri-yurari]

Jing Yuan slipping into bed after coming home from working overtime, stirring you awake even though he was utmost careful in doing so.

“Welcome home…” you sit up to greet him in almost a mumble, half-asleep.

As you shortly lay back and quickly drift off to sleep again, you snuggle up to him.

His expression is in rare bewilderment as he looks at you beside him, a blush dusted across his face in the darkness. A soft smile breaks into his lips as he brings you even closer by wrapping an arm around you.

Your words and gesture were so simple, yet it made him feel unbelievably loved and so lucky to have you.

“I’m home,” he whispers.

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

The way Nanami subtly doms you

Tags: dom!Nanami x fem!Reader, sub!Reader, dom/sub relationship, NO age regression, sub space.

An: yeah idk i feel like nanami’s very subtle with his domming style, but i see shiu kong as full on dom.

• Nanami isn’t the type to flex his dominance over you. He doesn’t have to be rude or degrading to drive the point home. You know exactly when he gives you that look, it means to behave. His hazel eyes cut in your direction, and his eyebrow raises ever so slightly, like he’s amused by your disobedience. However, he doesn’t smile — doesn’t reward bad behavior.

• “Want to say that again?”, “Language.”, “Didn’t I tell you no pouting?” when you’re being a brat and mouthing off. bonus points if he’s pulling his tie away from his neck and slowly wrapping it around his palm.

• It’s simple, but he gives you his hoodies or coats to wear when you’re out and about. He likes seeing his clothes encompassed your body, and he enjoys that everyone will immediately be able to tell just whose you are.

• Speaking of clothes, Nanami’s not the type to tell you when you can and can’t wear something. He’s confident in his abilities to keep you safe, but that doesn’t mean he won’t make suggestions. “Are you sure about the skirt, sweetheart? I don’t want your legs getting cold.”

• He takes great care of you in an inconspicuous manner. He’ll adjust your clothes on you, buttoning up your top or gently fixing your unruly hair. He’ll throw your towel and pajamas (that he picked out for you) in the dryer when you’re in the shower, so they are all warm and cozy for you when you get out.

• Nanami is also the type to set a pretty firm bedtime for you. He knows how much you like to stay up and how ill you get in the mornings if you hadn’t had a minimum of 8 hours of rest. So, he sets you on a pretty strict bedtime schedule and routine. Don’t worry. He’s there every night to cuddle you to sleep.

• Insistent that you hold his hand while you two are out. He knows how distractible you are, and it eases his mind when your palm rests in his.

• The way he talks can throw you straight into a more submissive headspace, and he knows it too. He doesn’t do it often, but when he notices you getting too stressed or burnt out, he’ll immediately start with the dom talk, “My baby needs a break, doesn’t she?” He’ll coo and pull you into his lap, and when you inevitably lean into his touch, “There she is. Did my baby miss me?”

• Nanami sees it as a gentlemanly thing, but it could also be seen as another form of domming. He doesn’t let you touch a single door handle if he’s with you, and you best believe he’s walking on the outside. You’re tucked beside him on the inside of the sidewalk. He’ll also never let you hold a shopping bag. No, he does not care that he’s holding a bunch of Victoria’s Secret and Ulta bags. He pays for everything. If your car needs gas, Nanami fills it up.

• On the off chance that you two are out, and he’s not right beside you, all he has to do is curl his finger and point at the ground in front of him to let you know that he wants you to come to him, and you better do as you’re told.

• The king of giving simple stern instructions. “Look at me.” “Speak up, baby.”, “Come here, now.”, “Give me a kiss.”, “Ask nicely.”

• Nanami will sit on the couch, spread his legs, and pat his knee when he wants you to sit on his lap. He doesn’t even have to give simple instructions for that.

• Even while he does all this, he respects your independence, autonomy, and intelligence. Let’s bffr rn he’s your biggest supporter in everything you do. He’s so in love with you because he knows how smart and hard working you are. He’s so damn lucky that he gets to be the man to pamper you and ease your weary mind. He loves being that safe space for you, so you can just relax, lean on him, and just be you.

[ghostsanctity]

Simon was used to being in control. In every aspect of his life and especially in the bedroom—he dictated the pace, the rules, and the limits. It was his way of ensuring everything remained steady, predictable, and safe. 

But tonight felt different, you didn’t outright ask for his submission, or try to command dominance; you merely offered something deeper, a trust he wasn’t sure he could surrender to—until now.

As you guided him gently, his body yielding under your touch, it was like unraveling a part of Simon he rarely let anyone see—a man willing to trust, willing to let go.

And for the first time, he didn’t fight it.

Simon's breath comes in ragged gasps as you ride him. His body is slick with sweat, the pink ribbons biting into his skin as he strains against the bonds, his cock twitching helplessly inside your pussy.

"Look at you, so pretty tied up in pink."

Your words send a shiver down his spine, and he feels himself teetering on the edge once again. His balls draw up tight, his cock throbbing urgently inside you. He's so close, so fucking close and he’s lost count of how many times he’s orgasmed so far tonight.

"Baby... please-" he begs, his voice breaking on a moan. "I need... I need..."

Simon can’t even think right now, doesn’t know what he’s begging for. He only knows that he's drowning in the feeling of you, the haze of pleasure you’re giving him. 

You continue to ride him, milking him for all he's worth as your inner walls clench around his cock. And with a hoarse cry, he comes undone, his orgasm crashing over him. His vision whites out, his body convulsing as he spills his cum deep inside you. And still, you don’t give him a moment's respite, wringing every last drop of pleasure from his spent form as you get off him, only to coax him back to life with your skilled fingers.

"One more, baby," you whisper, your lips brushing against his ear. "Just one more for me."

He whimpers, his hips jerking weakly as you stroke him. He's so spent, so utterly drained, but the thought of denying you is unbearable. Slowly, reluctantly, his cock begins to harden once again in your grasp.

You shift position, lowering your mouth to the head of his cock. He gasps as your tongue swirls around the tip, lapping up the mingled fluids that coat his cock. Your hand pumps him in time with the movements of your mouth, stroking him firmly from base to tip, momentarily fondling his balls.

"God-" he groans, letting his head fall back onto the pillow. "You're gonna kill me- fuck -you know that?"

But even as he says it, he's desperately lifting his hips to thrust into your mouth. Eagerly chasing the pleasure that only you can give him. Your throat constricts around him as you take his cock deeper, and he feels his orgasm building once again, faster than he thought possible.

With a guttural moan, he comes undone, shooting ropes of cum down your throat. You swallow every bit of it, ensuring that not a single drop goes to waste, only releasing his cock once the last remnants of his orgasm fade. Simon’s chest rises and falls as he tries to catch his breath, he looks up at you, pleading, his expression almost vulnerable and in that instant you knew all his walls were down, all defenses stripped away.

His muscles flexed against the ribbons binding his wrists, aching to feel your soft skin beneath his fingertips. He wants nothing more than to pull you close and never let go.

"Please." he rasps, his voice husky and rough. "Can you untie me? Just wanna hold you-"

You lean over him, deft fingers working at untying the ribbons binding him. When they fall, he pushes himself up, his muscles aching a little.

He wraps his around you, body moulding to yours. Here with you, he feels complete in a way he never imagined possible, it feels like home. 

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," he mutters against your skin, his lips caressing your pulse point. "I love you."

"I love you too." you whisper, holding him even closer as you run a hand through his hair.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

reblogsノcomments are greatly appreciated <3

© ghostsanctity → do not copy or translate any of my works

[sttoru]

.⌇ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. it’s late at night and you try to cuddle with sukuna. keyword; try.

wc. 1.2k

tags. true form!sukuna x female reader. fluff, angst (+comfort). heian era. size difference (readers referred to as small). sukuna’s a bit mean, but he also has a soft spot for you. miscommunication ? it gets solved. reader gets called ‘woman, doll’.

“what are you trying to do?” sukuna sighs. you’re up to something again, he figures. his red eyes follow your body as it crawls up to him on the bed.

you’re both tired after a long day of fulfilling some duties here and there around the estate. all you need is a big beefy man wrapping his arms around you to keep you warm and safe.

the perfect man for that is sukuna. those four arms of his wrapped around your small body feel like heaven.

“it’s called cuddling,” you retort. the sarcastic tone you used triggers a deep sigh from the sorcerer. sukuna holds back the urge to say something sarcastic as well.

he doesn’t utter a single word once you snuggle up to his chest. you’ve taught him how to cuddle during the first time you asked him to hold you. sukuna was awkward with showing any type of affection back then.

. . he still very much is.

“hug, please,” you remind him. the cold-hearted man scoffs, though listens to your polite request. all four of his arms imprison you against his chest, your small body nearly disappearing behind his limbs.

that’s what you like most about those cuddles you share together; how you fit so perfectly in his strong arms. it’s much more comforting than you thought it would be.

a pair of hands rests on your waist, the other pair on your hips. sukuna glances down at you and immediately notices that smile on your lips. even after all this time, he still cannot fathom why you’re so carefree around a monster like him.

and that inability to understand you and your love for him is accompanied by an urge to push you away.

“you got your hug, now get up,” sukuna interrupts the silence. his voice is cold and devoid of emotion—he uses that voice when he talks to other people. not with you, “i have better things to attend to.”

thus, it hurts. when he talks to you like that. like you’re not the person he secretly cherishes most. though, you remind yourself of sukuna’s own words. the ones you heard him say a while ago.

‘love is meaningless’, he said. you remember. and yet you kept hoping that he’d change his mind about that statement. you hoped and eventually saw exactly that: your presence and your affectionate gestures mellowed his heart of steel.

but all that effort seems to go down the drain every time sukuna pushes you away.

you know it’s because he’s unfamiliar with the feelings of love. he may not say it nor show it, but you know that sukuna’s afraid of hurting you. so, he creates a gap between you two every now and then.

you know and yet you’re patient.

“oh, ‘kay,” you nod in understanding. you pull away from his embrace and get up from the bed. your bottom lip trembles.

sukuna is not gullible. he’s anything but oblivious. especially if it’s about how you feel and act. he notices every single change in your mood; whether you mask it or not.

you walk to the sliding doors—ready to open them and step out into the hallway. your eyes are a bit watery, but you quickly blink the tears away and take a deep breath in. you reach for the door.

“come back here, woman.”

sukuna’s booming voice makes you stop. you glance at his form over your shoulder. he’s leaning against the headboard of the bed, arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed.

is he. . . upset?

“why? you said you had better things to attend to.” you answer with a shrug. you try your best to not make it seem like his earlier words had effected you. you turn your head towards the word with a huff, “go on, then.”

sukuna narrows his eyes. he sucks at communicating what he actually desires—what he actually wants. right now that want is for you to stay. even though that completely contradicts his previous words.

the sorcerer doesn’t know what to do. when you’re with him, he pushes you away out of guilt. when you’re away, he wants you back with him.

love is complicated.

“you. . .” sukuna grunts in frustration. all those feelings for you inside of his heart are playing with his rational thoughts. he doesn’t like seeing you upset. he wants the usual you back, “tsk. fine then.”

silence, followed by the creaking of the bed frame. seems like sukuna’s getting up to do whatever ‘business’ he needed to attend. at least, that’s what you thought.

you slide the door open and set a foot outside of the chambers. before the other could follow, you’re suddenly lifted up in the air by a strong pair of hands. your vision turns upside down as your body is effortlessly hoisted onto a shoulder.

“woah!” you gasp and feel the blood go to your head. your eyes are fixed on the back of your lover. you kick your legs in protest, but only get a smack to your ass in response. you whine at that, “put me down!”

“watch it, doll,” sukuna hisses at your fierce demand, a warning to fix your tone. he puts you back down on the soft mattress. he’s surprisingly gentle when he settles you in place—not throwing you on the bed or anything similar, “should’ve listened when i told you the first time.”

your eyes meet sukuna’s and you notice how much they’ve softened. that alone makes the lump in your throat disappear. your love for him isn’t one sided—you’ve always kept that in the back of your mind—yet your thoughts made you overlook the little things he does for you.

his actions speak louder than his words. that’s the kind of man he is.

sukuna’s trying to open up more, though that process is slow. you’re fine with that.

especially when there’s that faint pout on his lips as he stares at you. his eyebrows are still furrowed, his crimson eyes sharp yet warm.

“oh, you want me back in bed this bad?” you tease once you get the opportunity. the man in front of you clicks his tongue and grabs your cheeks with one hand, turning your head up to face him.

sukuna’s eyes are focused on yours. the eye contact is intimidating, but you’re hypnotised. you physically can’t look away. he leans in and bites your lip with his sharp canines, “shut up.”

that raspy whisper alone confirms your assumption. you giggle at his attempt of refuting your point. you’re used to all those intimidating words and actions he pulls to get you to stop your teasing.

those empty threats—it’s becoming rather cute with how hard he tries to deny everything. he fails nearly every time, however.

“come,” sukuna lays back against the pillows after placing a quick and sloppy kiss against your lips. he pulls your body against his and presses your head against his chest, right where his heart is beating, “continue with your.. ‘cuddling’ thing.”

he put your ear right above his heart, because he remembers listening to his heartbeat calms you down. you told him that a while back. sukuna doesn’t understand why you like it, but his fingers massage your scalp either way.

that’s also something that brings you comfort.

you’re surprised by how much he knows about you, but appreciate it anyway. he remembers both the big and small things about you. ‘that’s how he probably shows his love,’ you conclude silently.

[sexbot300]

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ brat-tamer!toji

authors note: no thots, just him. this is just pure smut, sorry lollllll. need him so bad u don’t understand. with that being said, minors dni, 18+ ! thank you for the love on my first few posts! i appreciate it all of it <3 i'm not ignoring my messages btw, just extremely busy with my studies! ♡

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ʚɞ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

brat-tamer!toji who notices you acting up and simply asks, “cranky because you ain’t got dick today?”

brat-tamer!toji who only looks at you with a raised brow and (huge) arms across his chest when you purposely try to piss him off. so cute.

brat-tamer!toji who purposely puts his entire body weight on top of you when you beg him to stop due to overstimulation. he tugs you even closer, just laughing in your face.

brat-tamer!toji who stops thinking coherent thoughts when he sees you in a sundress.

brat-tamer!toji who rewards your good behavior with head (lets you squirt) and also punishes your bad behavior with head (denies you relief, gives in eventually, sometimes).

brat-tamer!toji who loooovessssss shoving your face into the pillow while you whine, pant, and moan. he loves to put your head into a headlock with his bicep, as drool escapes your lips, and you’re babbling like an idiot while he’s hitting it from the back.

brat-tamer!toji who casually lifts you up and fucks you in the air as if just anyone can do it. “such a perfect little pocket pussy,” he snickers.

brat-tamer!toji who gets you cock drunk so often (he’s starting to think that it’s your normal state).

brat-tamer!toji who likes to make you count every time he spanks the fat of your ass when arched up across his lap. slap! “24…” you say with a slight moan, biting your bottom lip in, as he soothes the red outline forming on your cheek. he grins above you, “should’ve known a cock-bent whore like you would take this as pleasurable rather than punishment.”

brat-tamer!toji who makes a safe word with you early on (which you tease him for doing so early, he only tsks because he knows YOU know how much you mean to him and he puts your well-being above anything else).

brat-tamer!toji who has a hidden collection of pictures on his phone with you smiling, his cum decorating your face.

brat-tamer!toji who grips your face in the middle of a make out session, pulling away as he notices your fucked out, panting expression. “open.” you quickly open up your mouth as he slowly lets spit hit onto your tongue. he lightly chuckles. “obedient slut.” you look at him, eyebrows furrowed and eyes wanting more. “swallow.”

brat-tamer!toji who finds his favorite position to be when his massive balls are hitting your clit and he mercilessly pounds, abusing your little cunt from the back as he strings profanity out of his mouth. or a full nelson where he just tells you to, “shut the fuck up and take it.” or even a mating press where he can pummel his cum into you while seeing your face contort in pure bliss. “y-yeah. ‘ust let loose. go dumb on this dick.”

brat-tamer!toji who regularly calls you; “slut, (needy or cock) whore, vixen, pretty, disgusting, (stupid) bitch, brat, bad girl, good girl, perfect, beautiful, gorgeous, princess, angel, (sex or fuck) toy, doll, bunny, cum-slut, cum-dumpster, sugar… etc”

brat-tamer!toji who gets annoyed at your endless ramblings about your day, he sighs and tells you to get on your knees. you promptly do that, but to push his buttons you don’t stop rambling on and on and on. somehow, this man manages to get his 8 (girthy) inches down your throat. “cant complain with my cock in your mouth, huh?” he only smirks as you become teary-eyed, moaning a little at his statement, lapping your tongue up and down like a starving dog. he throws his head back, forearms supporting him while you bob your head back and forth on his thick length. “hey… never said that my cock doesn’t appreciate your tongue. s’ch a good girl when you do what you’re made for. unh!”

brat-tamer!toji who presses against you into a mirror, his broader, massive frame encasing you while he stares into your soul. “i-i don’t understand what i did?” you look up at him feigning innocence, batting your eyelashes. fingers caress his forearms, down his hard bicep, and lightly trace his hardened outline. his eyes never leave yours, a stern, menacing look to the average person, but you can tell he’s about to have you praying for mercy in another way. “of course you don’t understand what you did.” you whine slightly when his fingers suddenly grab a fist full of your hair, burning your scalp, his voice turns mockingly softer. “all you know in that pretty, empty, head of yours is just fucking. nothing else.” he quickly releases you, eliciting a gasp, magically flipping you around in an instant so you’re staring at yourself in the mirror now. “told you not to play with yourself until i came home. but you just haaad to be difficult.” he gripped the vibrator in one hand that was tucked away, pressing it against your lips. “spit.” you spat on it, eyes full of want. he only snickered and smirked. “good luck thinking I’m going to let you cum. stare in the mirror while I do this.” he turned the toy on, a vibrating tune humming throughout the room. “need you to realize how pathetic you look begging.” you gasped slightly, “b-but-" he proceeds to pry your legs apart with one massive thigh, his hand gripping the front of your neck, forcing you to look at yourself in the mirror. “push your skirt up. you lost your right to cum, stupid whore. cum without permission, see what happens.”

brat-tamer!toji who loves to fuck you on his fingers. he loves the lewd noise it makes while ramming his two middle fingers in and out, or up and down. he loves to see your jaw go slack as you beg him to stop. “i-it’s… uhhhhhh! t-to- ah! -ji, toooooo-uhhh much!” he never loses focus, “yeah? yeah?” he presses his hand on your lower abdomen, “quite honestly, don’t care what you think.” he only licks his lips, his scarred lip grins with anticipation to finally taste you when you unfold.

brat-tamer!toji who degrades you like it’s a living but LIVES for your filthy mouth. he loves that you talk back, he’ll never admit it. he loves putting cum sluts like you in their place.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

brat-tamer!toji who weirdly… gets needy at times when you finish. he’ll hold you from behind, shutting his eyes while his arms are wrapped around, practically glued to your torso, the backside of your body molds perfectly to the front of his. legs intertwined, your head against his chest, a moment of pure bliss shared between you two. “who knew the big bad toji likes to cuddle?” “shut up.”

(silly toji! i need him to ruin me)

[beloveds-embrace]

noona. noon. any angsty thoughts to share for the duke au? 👁️ (i’m craving angst sorry)

Original post

I DO!! Angst version of the au would be if you weren’t welcomed at all. Sure, no one is being flat out rude to you, no one is actively sabotaging you and John doesn’t hit or force you into anything.

But it’s lonely.

The maids barely touch you, as if disgusted they have to help and tend to the woman their Duke needed to and not wanted to marry, and the butlers are the same. Especially the head butler Garrick. You still don’t know his first name and he doesn’t seem inclined to tell you.

During the dinner… nights with John, you’ve started noticing that your food isn’t quite as well done as his? Less decorated, occasionally burnt or not cooked well, but you don’t want to cause any trouble so you remain silent and John never asks why you seem to eat so little.

You do also meet Duke Riley, the man that John is said to have an incredibly close friendship with, something born during his time servicing the kingdom. You’ve heard so much about him, from bad to good, and you wonder how he actually is.

In the end, you wish you hadn’t met him, too. The humiliation of being flat-out ignored in your own home while he speaks amicably with John…

So yes. Life as Duchess Price isn’t a happy one, but you are just glad you aren’t physically hurting.

But you do find solace in the only kindness your parents had bothered to show you before they gave you away; your personal knight, König. He is the only one to not treat you as such. He is the only one you can confide in, feel just a little bit of happiness and friendship with even if you haven’t even seen his face yet.

“I’m so tired,” you whisper to him one night, under the blanket of the night sky. You’d thrown a simple shawl over your shoulders, and hadn’t questioned it when he fell in steps behind you, always a protective shadow. Today had been hard. You had also decided to no longer dine with John, not too excited about the lackluster food and the stilted conversations. Cold maids, lonely night… you ached for something more.

You take in a shuddering breath, wrapping the shawl tighter around yourself. Konig stands right beside the bench you are sitting on, a familiar and comforting sight and presence. But tonight, it’s not enough. “I’m so tired, König.” You repeat, your voice cracking.

König simply stares at you for a while; you are used to it, used to everything about him. The mask, the accent, the unyielding body that is always keeping you safe. The quiet congestions you have had, during the days you lock yourself away in your office to ignore the loneliness and sadness plaguing you.

You aren’t used to seeing König bend down in front of you, holding his hands out until you place them in his. Familiar pale eyes peer up at you. Proper etiquette doesn’t matter to you in this moment; who will chastise you for the lack of it when this entire duchy holds only the most basic form of respect for you?

Even if they did, you would not let go of König, your confidant. Your knight.

“…What do you need, mylady?”

After a silent moment, you take in a deep breath and look back at him. “…I want… someone who loves me enough to be kind towards me. I want someone who loves me.”

König nods his head. With bated breath, you watch silently as he brings your hands forward, under his mask, to kiss each knuckle on your hands.

“I am your knight, mylady. I am your sword, and your shield. I, too, can be your lover if that is what you want, mylady. Whatever you desire, it is my duty to provide.” König breathes out against your skin, eyes not once flicking away, words not once breaking. He is fully devoted in his decision. “Will you allow me, mylady? The decision is your, always has been. I cannot take you away from this horrible place-“ not yet. “-but I can give you my love and devotion, just as I’ve always done. Will you allow me, mylady?”

And after everything you’ve been through, all the pain and loneliness and exclusion- you can’t say no.

“…Yes, König.”

(By the time John begins to realize that he may have misjudged you, once you find out the truth, it is already far too late for mending any bridges. There is no particular feeling when you look at him, or any of his men. You only ask that no one bothers your time alone with your shadow, your knight. It’s far too late for anything.)

Part 2 + dukedom au masterlist

[jambalaya-enthusiast]

Tulpar crew most to least rough?

MOST TO LEAST ROUGH IN BED— TULPAR CREW.

warnings: suggestive

JIMMY

Jimmy is by no means,vanilla. He just doesn't get the point of fucking if it's not rough and hard or even painful. He bites like a rabid dog, so much so to the point of drawing blood. Jimmy doesn't necessarily care about making you feel good, as long as he's getting his own satisfaction, he is happy. Jimmy is a bed breaker. He isn't all that much into foreplay, but if he's in the mood, he'll do it. The nastiest dirty talker, will say shit so vile it might scare you. he doesn't care for safe words, he'll just have his way with you,how he wants, when he wants.

DAISUKE

Daisuke is a young, handsome lad whose libido is higher than the fucking sky, he isn't all that experienced which is exactly why he doesn't shy away from trying new things in bed. although he doesn't want to hurt you/ make you uncomfortable in the slightest, he unknowingly becomes hella rough when he's nearing his peak. Is also hella into marking you up, his high libido leaves you overstimulated. you're definitely having back aches.

SWANSEA

Swansea is a tired man, he likes taking his sweet time and doing it slowly, intimately. But that doesn't mean he hasn't got it. If he ever feels that he isn't pleasuring you the way you deserve to be, get ready for a wild night because this guy will show you a side of him completely unknown to you. He is experienced he knows how to make you feel good, he knows where to touch you to get the right sounds out. and if it ever came to that, he will break the bed.

ANYA

Anya loves to be taken care of,she loves it when you slowly, and passionately make love to her, slowly and passionately. she loves you being gentle, showing her that you love her in all the ways that make her feel good. But in all honesty, she also loves it when you make her back arch, and lips mewl by being rough. she loves scratching your back with her nails during missionary, she loves biting you, and being marked up by you.

CURLY

I know that I've put curly in the least curly tier, but that isn't exactly who he is. Curly is absolutely terrified of hurting you in any way or form, he only wants to make you feel good, he doesn't care for his own pleasure sometimes. He wants to make sure that you feel great, satisfied and happy. That's all that matters to him, but sometimes, just sometimes he lets his inner feelings lose, and rams into you like an animal in heat, curly is big, that isn't even up for debate. When he is into it he's into it. You'll be unable to wall for the next several days. But curly would feel so fucking guilty that he'll take care of your every need during those days, he promises to himself that he'll never do that to you ever again, because he simply just wants to pamper and protect you. but he sometimes slips and lets his lust control him, it happens very very rarely though,but whenever it does happen, you're not sure if you're complaining.

[whipped-for-kpop-fics]

Life's A Beach - K.MG

🌊Who: Kim Mingyu (Seventeen) x female reader 🌊What: Smut, some fluff I guess? Strangers to lovers. Lifeguard Mingyu!!! 🌊Wordcount: 7.3k 🌊Warnings: Profanity. Quick joke about burying a body on the beach. Slight drowning, it’s not graphic and it’s very quick all in all. Passing mention of panic. Probably excessive use of “baby”. Semi-public sex, oral (female receiving), fingering, big dick Mingyu, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms(f), messy Mingyu, choking, a single solitary spank, mentions of bruising. 

Summary: You don’t like the beach, but you do like the handsome lifeguard who works there. As it turns out, he likes you too and is more than willing to risk his job to have you.

Minors do NOT interact, which means reblogging and/or commenting on this story. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in their bio.

-2024 Masterlist-

A/N- Happy birthday to my beanie @ourdawnishotterthanourday , I know I said this was to prepare for a Christmas gift but I lied hehe oops. Hope you like it, my love 💗

Thank you @okiedokrie for the very last minute beta! 💕

A few weeks ago, your best friend managed to succeed in convincing you to go to the beach after some very effective emotional manipulation in the form of puppy eyes and pouting at you. She had promised you’d enjoy yourself and admittedly, you did, but not because of the beach itself. Still, she used your enjoyment to convince you to return a few days later, and then another few more and soon enough the two of you seem to spend more time at the beach than your homes in your free time.

Now, the reason for your interest in attending the sand and seas despite liking neither of those things is pretty simple. The eye candy. One particular hunk of a man with a sweet smile, in particular.

You have no idea what his name is, you’ve never spoken to him nor been in close proximity but that doesn’t deter you from setting up in that same spot under the parasol for a few hours every few days at roughly the same time just to watch Mr Hunky Lifeguard do his rounds strolling topless up and down the sand and helping where he can. 

It’s sweet, the way he’ll help anyone who asks, even with matters you’re very certain are not a part of his job description. Judging impromptu sandcastle contests between kids. Blowing up beach balls. Helping older folk set up their beach chairs and parasols. 

You can’t help but wonder if he’d help you apply sunscreen. His warm hands slipping over your thighs, working up and up and-

“Hey!” The voice of your best friend breaks you from your fantasies as she skips over happily, hands cupped and before she’s even close enough, you already know what’s in her hands. “Check this out!” She drops onto her knees at your side to proudly show you…a little crab. So not another shell to add to the pile gathering on the sand to your right as you assumed. 

“A crab,” 

“Yes,” 

“I thought you were looking for shells to decorate your castle with?” You both look over at the half-finished and admittedly, rather grand, sandcastle a little to the side, safely out of the way from any passerby. 

“Every castle needs a King, don’t you think he’ll look crabulous on his throne?” You look back at your best friend to find her grinning at you, proud of her joke. 

“Go find shells.” You deadpan, she just giggles and gets up to return to the rockpool where she had found the crab to return it to its home.

Thoroughly distracted from your fantasies of the hot lifeguard, you have honestly forgotten about it and also happened to have lost track of him. Last you saw him, he was up on the deck of the watch tower, peering over the beach through binoculars yet now, he’s nowhere to be seen.

With a disappointed sigh, you decide to just relax, leaning back against the bags you’ve piled up to create an impromptu backrest and go back to reading your book. 

It’s not even ten minutes later when a figure blocks your light and casts a shadow over your pages. You immediately assume it’s your friend from the way the figure lingers and lift your head with every intention of accepting whatever funky patterned rock or shell she’s found this time, yet it’s not her who you spot, but Mr Hunky Lifeguard himself. 

“Hi,” he greets, hands on his hips and smiling at you in that bright friendly way you’ve noticed him smiling at everyone else. 

You take the moment with him so close to quickly rake your hidden gaze over his exposed, sunkissed, toned torso and arms. Praise be to whoever invented dark sunglasses. “Hello.”

“Family day out?” He questions, motioning to the pile of plastic beach toys by the sandcastle on your right, causing you to look over and only then realise how it must look; that you’re here with your child, not your grown ass adult of a best friend. 

“Not exactly,” You huff a laugh and lean aside a little to peer around him. “My best friend.” You declare upon spotting said person and pointing to her. To your surprise, she’s squatting with another lifeguard, this one wearing the same red shorts though he’s got a white sleeveless t-shirt on, and rummaging through the sand with your friend. 

“Oh,” The man in front of you lets out a surprised little laugh when he looks over too. “I’ve never seen Vernon interact like that with a stranger. Unless they know each other?” 

“Not that I’m aware of,” You shrug and look back up at the tall man in time to see his body angle back around to give you his full attention. You briefly wonder who exactly is looking over this section of the beach when both lifeguards are currently distracted on the sand. 

“Huh, okay. I’m Mingyu,” He takes a step closer to lean over and offers his hand to you. Your gaze catches on the chain around his neck and the way it swings as he leans over. You want to reach out and grab it, yank him down and defile the beach together. 

But that would get you arrested and you really don’t want that. So you lean up onto your knees to accept his hand to shake and tell him your name in return. 

“Mm, pretty,” He hums, looking at you over the top of his dark sunglasses with a lopsided little smile. It feels flirty as fuck, but you don’t want to make assumptions that this beautiful man is interested in you. 

“Oh, thank you.” You smile a little and take your hand back yet remain on your knees, feet tucked comfortably under you as he straightens up. You can’t help but think about the fact that if he was a few feet closer, you’d be face height with his dick and within reaching distance. 

“You must really like the beach.” 

“Huh?” You blink away the fantasy of slobbering all over Mingyu’s cock and seeing how pretty he looks when he cums down your throat, or maybe on your face, that’d be nice too. 

“I said you must really like the beach, I’ve seen you here almost every day for almost a month now.” 

“You noticed me?” You mutter in shock. 

“Uhm-” Mingyu rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, his confident stance melting away as his shoulders curve in and make him appear smaller. Embarrassed. Cute. “I-It’s my job. To notice things. People. You know. To ma-make sure people are safe.” 

“I see.” You hum and tilt your head a little without even noticing, amused and endeared by him. 

As if he isn’t already attractive enough just by existing, talking to him and realising he’s got this cute shy side definitely draws you in further.

“Y-yep!” He laughs awkwardly and straightens to his full height again while putting his hands on his hips again. “Well, I should get back to it. Nice to meet you!” And then he rushes off before you can even respond, leaving you watching him scuttle off and almost trip over a stray sandal in the sand making you snicker. 

Mingyu flails to right himself and then immediately looks over at you to see if you noticed. Realising that you had definitely seen him almost faceplant the sand, he gives an awkward embarrassed little wave before turning and rushing off, quickly putting his face in his palms as he goes.

And just like that, the beach gets that much more interesting.

It’s a handful of days before you return to the beach, you had been busy with work, unfortunately, so you simply hadn’t had the time or energy to take the trip.

“I’m gonna dig a giant fucking hole today.” Your best friend declares as you both put down your items in your usual spot and start to set up. 

“To bury me? Work killed me, babe.” You retort dramatically.

“Please don’t bury bodies on the beach.” The voice makes you jump over and to your surprise, a dripping wet Mingyu is standing a little behind you. “Hi,” 

“Hi,” You reply dumbly, doing your utmost to not oogle his shimmering chest, or the flex of his bicep as he lifts a hand to run his fingers through his wet hair to stop the salty water dripping over his face. You’re once again very glad for tinted sunglasses. 

“You’re wet,” Your best friend comments, making you both look at her where she’s standing and looking between you both over the top of her sunglasses, where you’re very certain she’s lowered them down her nose just to give you both this very pointed look. 

“I was teaching a kid to swim, of course I’m wet.” Mingyu chuckles, motioning over his shoulder with his thumb in the direction of the sea behind him.

“Wasn’t talking to you.” Your best friend gives you a final look before pushing her sunglasses back up into place. “I’ll leave you to set up, I have places to be.” With that, she turns and walks off in the direction of the snack carts and shacks further down the beach leaving you and Mingyu alone. 

You appreciate that, the alone time with the attractive man, but what you don’t appreciate is having to set up on your own. “She could’ve at least opened the parasol first.” You mutter to yourself, looking at the giant umbrella in disdain. 

“I can help!” Mingyu offers, bounding forward before you can even answer, to pick up the umbrella from the sand, biceps flexing as he moves. “Where do you want it?” 

“Right here,” You reply without thought. He hums in understanding, even if he doesn’t truly understand because you were definitely thinking about where you want him to rail you when you answered, not where you want the parasol set up. 

Still, Mingyu sets the parasol up and it is in the right place so you find no reason to correct yourself and instead thank him and get to work setting up the mat. 

To your pleased surprise, Mingyu sticks around to help you finish setting up everything, making friendly conversation as he goes and smiling brighter every time he makes you laugh. 

You wish he would keep you company for longer but his walkie-talkie crackles to life and announces that he’s needed so he leaves you with a smile and waves at you when he looks over his shoulder after jogging a little away. 

It makes you feel all warm inside, how he seems to be genuinely interested in being near you, you just hope it doesn’t take another three weeks before he decides to make a move if he plans to. You’re not confident enough yourself to make that move, you’d be utterly mortified if you’ve read this all wrong and he’s just being a genuinely nice guy who goes above and beyond for his job. 

So you just settle down with a new book and hold that hope next to that sun shining in your chest.

“This is perhaps the dumbest idea we’ve had and gone through with.” Your best friend comments as the two of you stand ankle-deep in the sea with the rented surfboards ready for your lesson with one of the two men who run the surf supply shack.

“You signed us up,” You point out, both of you watching the man in question as he removes his t-shirt on the shore to toss at his co-worker who rolls his eyes. 

You know the co-worker personally but more because he somehow knows your best friend. His name is Joshua and he, according to your bestie, had purposely set up this lesson with his co-worker, Seungcheol, because Joshua owes her for something or other. Honestly, you long ago stopped trying to keep track of the shenanigans of your bestie. Wisely too.

“Sorry about that, Shua had to tell me something.” Seungcheol apologises as he walks over to join you two, sans surfboard of his own, confusing you but you don’t point it out.

“Sounds ominous.” You declare.

“No,” He chuckles and motions to your best friend who points at herself with wide eyes, sunglasses propped on Joshua’s head so they don’t get lost to sea, while yours are with your belongings. “Shua said you have really bad balance so I should probably hold onto you.” 

“Terrible balance.” Your best friend agrees seriously without missing a beat, even if you know she’s lying at least a little. 

It takes everything in you to not burst into laughter. Clearly, Joshua is very aware that your bestie has been thirsting over his co-worker since she first saw him. Admittedly, you have been too but most of your attention has been on The Hunky Lifeguard now officially known as Mingyu.

“Okay, so is it okay if I hold onto you to help?” Seungcheol checks, expression giving away that he truly has no idea that this is some kind of a set-up and is genuinely just concerned for his student’s safety.

“Full consent to touch me however you want.” Your best friend agrees, making Seungcheol smile, entirely missing the depravity hiding in her words. 

You have to look away to take a few breaths to calm yourself before you break, and happen to notice Mingyu up on the watchtower deck, looking through his binoculars. You can’t be certain but it looks like he’s got them pointed in your direction. You don’t want to be delusional so convince yourself that even if he is, he’s not focused on you specifically. 

Spoiler, he definitely is.

“Alright,” Seungcheol claps his hands together, making you jump a little and turn back to him and catch his adorable gummy smile. “Let’s get this lesson started, shall we ladies?”

Honestly, the lesson with Seungcheol goes a lot better than expected, he takes it very seriously and pays careful attention to you both. You hadn’t expected to get anywhere close to standing on the board in the water but with his careful guidance even with his hands hovering around your friend to aid her oh so terrible balance if need be, you get your feet under you. 

After a few more tries, you manage to get almost entirely upright while Seungcheol and your friend cheer you on supportively. 

And then you make a giant fucking mistake. 

Before you’re even upright, you lift your head just enough to peer around naturally and notice Mingyu in all his topless, red short glory jogging along the beach looking like everything out of a Baywatch themed porno with his pecs bouncing with fucking every step. And as if that’s not bad enough, the man clearly is packing something very special in his shorts because you notice that bouncing too. 

Next thing you know, you’re toppling into the water so suddenly that you inhale in shock a second before you hit the sea’s surface, allowing salty water to pour into your open mouth and trickle into your lungs. 

It’s barely a second that you’re under the water before a strong arm is around your waist and heaving you up into the air while you sputter, panic starting to seize your body. 

“Move!” You hear as you’re laid down on the sand by the strong arms, though the voice is coming from elsewhere.

“I can handle this, Gyu,” This voice is right over you, the owner of the arms and you vaguely register it as Seungcheol, but you’re too busy coughing up seawater to open your eyes or give him or the other any attention.

“I’ve got it, Cheol.” Mingyu assures. 

There’s a heavy sigh and then those strong hands leave your body and you feel Seungcheol back away while other hands touch you gently, helping to remain on your side. 

“That’s it, you’re okay, I’ve got you.” Mingyu’s voice is soft and soothing where he’s hovering over you in concern, one hand rubbing over your arm and the other pushing your hair back. 

Luckily, the whole ordeal only lasts a handful of minutes and then you’re okay, breath stuttered and throat a little sore but fine otherwise. 

When you roll onto your back and open your eyes, you find Mingyu right there, leaning over you and backlit by the sun he’s purposely blocking from shining right in your eyes. Like your own personal guardian angel. Or something more poetic. 

You can be given a break from being unable to wax poetry about this beautiful specimen of humanity before you, considering what you’re going through. And no, not the just inhaling seawater thing. 

But the whole, he’s leaning over you topless with that damn silver chain dangling inches from your face, thing. Just a little closer and you could bite it. 

You wonder if he’d find that weird. Probably. You still want to do it though.

“Hey,” He gives you a tender kind of smile when you lift your eyes from his chain to meet his relieved, soft gaze. “You okay?” You just nod, pretty sure you’d say something highly inappropriate if you open your mouth.

“I dunno, I think she might need you to watch over her, Mr Lifeguard.” Your best friend speaks up. You peer at her from the corner of your eyes and find her standing beside Seungcheol with a little smirk on her face as she looks between you and Mingyu. “Maybe you should take her up to the watchtower and keep a close eye on her, just in case.” 

“She doesn’t need that,” Seungcheol points out simply, definitely unaware that your friend is trying to set up a situation for you and the man you’ve been thirsting over for weeks.

“No, no, she’s right.” Mingyu argues quickly as he shakes his head and turns to you to help you sit up and then get to your feet to stand with him. “I should definitely keep a close eye on her, she almost drowned, Cheol-” 

“She’s fine,” Seungcheol’s mutter is neither heard nor considered as Mingyu continues to talk over him as if the man said nothing. 

“So I’ll take her to the watch tower for a while until she’s feeling all better, sounds okay?” He looks at you. You just nod.

“Make her feel all better, Mr Lifeguard.” Your bestie encourages with a nod and thumbs up. 

Mingyu returns it and you’re not certain he actually gets what your friend is insinuating but you don’t really care. Whether he understands or not, you’re getting alone time with Mingyu and that’s all that matters. Bless your bestie for always trying to get you laid.

As you walk up the stairs to the watchtower, Mingyu walks a few steps behind you, a hand on your lower back gently, the same place it has been since the two of you started to walk across the sand. It’s still there when he opens the door and you two enter the building. 

“Hey,” Vernon, the lifeguard your bestie apparently befriended the other day, greets looking over from where he’s sitting at the control desk facing the large windows that oversee the beach. “Oh,” He mutters, eyes widening a little as he looks between you and Mingyu, clearly taking in the sight of the tall man’s hand on your back. “You know, I think I’m going to go get some air for a bit.” 

“Okay,” Mingyu agrees, giving Vernon a grateful look as the shorter man vacates the building without even grabbing his walkie-talkie from the desk. 

At Mingyu’s gentle nudge, you move further into the building allowing him to shut the door.

“I’ll grab you a towel.” He declares, moving over to the cupboards while you decide to check out the view from the window. 

From here you can see the entire section of the beach, especially when you pick up the binoculars Vernon left on the desk and peer through them. It’s pretty interesting, being able to watch over everyone like that and see everything while they no doubt don’t even consider the eyes on them from above. 

“Can they see us?” You wonder, lowering the binoculars to look at Mingyu as he approaches with a towel in hand. 

“I mean sure, if they try hard enough at other times of day but the sun is in the right position to just reflect on the glass at the moment. So right now, no, nobody can see us.” He informs, stopping perhaps a little closer than necessary. Paired with the information that nobody would even see if he fucked you right against the window, well heat flares in your stomach.

“Have you tested that?” 

“Mm, a few times.” 

“How?” 

Mingyu tilts his head a little at you and as you haven’t accepted the towel, too focused on the conversation, he puts it down on the desk and gently takes the binoculars from your hands to also put down. “What do you mean, how? By looking up from outside.” 

“Right.” You hum and turn your head to look back out of the window.

“What were you expecting?” He chuckles lowly. You feel him move a little closer, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating from his bare chest. “Hm?” You shrug. “Tell me,” 

“Just…you know.” You shrug again and although you can barely feel it through the wet material of the rash guard on your torso, the gentle press of his fingers on your back makes you shiver a little. 

“You should get out of this and dry off.” He suggests while running his hand up the length of your back and around your neck to the zipper in the middle of your throat. 

“I might need some help getting it off.” You reply. “Things being wet makes things harder.” 

“Oh, I know.” You’re very certain that you’re both talking in double entendre now and look at him over your shoulder as you turn your back to him a little more to give him better access.

For a weighted moment, nothing happens, just heavy eye contact as if you’re both waiting for the other to take a step backwards and prove your suspicions of the rising tension between you to be false. 

Yet you both stay in place.

You feel a slight tug against your neck, barely noticeable but it makes your body burn a little hotter as he slowly tugs down the zipper to your clavicle before stopping.

“Face me.” He mutters, adjusting his own stance to fully face you. You immediately comply and turn so you’re face to face, all without him removing his grip on the pull of your zipper. 

Then he’s back to dragging the zip down, over your breasts where his knuckles brush a little making your breath catch before his hand moves on to finish the path to open the zip all the way to where it stops at your belly button.

Mingyu only then breaks eye contact to look down at the glimpse of skin he can see now with the zipper open. “This is a one piece?” He checks, noticing how the material of the rashguard vanishes into your shorts. You hum in confirmation and then he’s lowering to his knees in front of you to tuck his fingers into the waistband of your shorts. 

He glances up at you, checking that this is okay and when you nod, he gives you a little smile before turning his full attention back down to watch the shorts move down your thighs with the help of his hands.

“Can you-” He starts once you’ve stepped out of the shorts and he’s tossed them aside, but when he looks up at you, you’re already working on pulling the front of your rash guard open, revealing your chest little by little, covered only by the little bikini you bought specifically to wear with the rashguard. “That.” Mingyu swallows thickly, watching more skin get revealed until you start to struggle to get the wet material down your shoulders. 

Without a word, Mingyu gets up onto his knees as tall as he can without getting up to reach out and grip the material to ease it over your shoulders and down your arms. 

“You’re beautiful,” He murmurs, hands bunching the wet material by your hips as he stops to take in all the exposed skin only a few feet from his face.

“So’re you,” You reply shyly. He smiles up at you then leans forward to press a featherlight kiss to your stomach. 

“This okay?” He asked in between kisses on your skin, each growing more daring than the last.

“Y-yeah,” You agree, feeling breathless already and nothing has happened yet. The tension is just so thick between you that it fills your lungs and takes up space usually reserved for oxygen. 

For a moment, you worry that if you’re this breathless already with just a couple of kisses to your stomach, you will not survive actually being fucked by this beautiful man. But then his lips are suddenly on the crease of your thigh, right at the edge of the rash guard and moving inwards and you can no longer worry about the future state of your lungs. 

Mingyu quickly tugs the rashguard off of you entirely and tosses it aside carelessly once you’ve stepped out of it, leaving you in just the skimpy little bikini that leaves very little to the imagination. “Fuck,” He breathes out, leaning back to take you in from head to toe then back again. “So fucking beautiful, baby.” 

“Mingyu,” Your voice is a soft little plea as you reach towards him, for what exactly, you’re not sure, you just want something and hope he gets the hint. He does and tilts forward to lean his cheek against your palm for a second, then plants a kiss there, tender despite the heavy moment.

“Lean back, baby,” He encourages, leading you by your hips to turn and take a step back until the edge of the desk is digging into the meat of your ass. 

You grip the desk edge on either side of you as he hitches one of your legs up onto his shoulder then leans as his free hand tugs aside the seat of your panties to allow him to get straight to work dragging his tongue up your pussy. 

The noise Mingyu lets out overpowers your own, he sounds like he’s tasted the fucking nectar of the gods or something equally as divine. Hearing him so immediately into eating your pussy only makes you more aroused and attracted to him in general. 

You have heard of men eating pussy like a man starved before but you had never experienced it until now. Mingyu truly gives it his all, holds you open and drags his tongue and lips over you with desperation and an intensity that has your legs shaking and a constant stream of moans spilling from your mouth almost in time with the grunts and needy moans vibrating through his lips against you.

“Gyu,” You breathe out, tangling the fingers of one hand in his hair and encouraging him to stay on your clit. He groans at the slight tug on his scalp and redoubles his efforts, sucking and licking at your clit hungrily. 

Your eyes are closed, entirely absorbed in the toe-curling sensations this man is giving you in spades, but when his hand touches yours on his head, you open your eyes to peer at him curiously. He’s looking at you, eyes so blown with arousal that you’re very certain you leak over his chin even more. 

Mingyu doesn’t stop suckling your clit between his lips in a steady pattern that has you so fucking close to a beautiful climax. It won’t be long until you fall over the edge into bliss. 

He removes your hand from his head and directs it between your thighs to make you curl your fingers around the seat of your bikini bottoms to hold them aside and away from his face. 

Then those same fingers that had just curled your own are prodding at your entrance. He hesitates though, staring up at you for permission until you rapidly nod and then he’s plunging two right into you, made easy from how fucking wet you are.

Just like that, an orgasm hits you so suddenly and powerfully that you don’t manage to do anything, no warning, no sound from your mouth as it rushes through your body, making your eyes roll back and back arch.

Mingyu feels you clamp down around his fingers and groans deeply as his own eyes threaten to roll back despite not being close to orgasm himself. Just knowing you’re cumming because of him, because of his mouth, on his fingers, it drives him insane and makes his cock throb.

Diligently, Mingyu works you through the pleasure pulsing through you, slowing down when your hips start to twitch and then reluctantly detaching his mouth from your clit when you nudge his head with a slightly shaky hand. 

Though he doesn’t go far and instead pushes your thigh a little further open to give his head more space to get next to his hand between your thighs and noisily slurp up every single drop that spills from your pussy. He even goes as far as to lick up the line that dribbled down his hand to his wrist.

“Gyu,” The call of his name makes him lift his head to look at you with wide eyes, looking so innocent despite his mouth and chin being soaked in your juices, all the way down to his throat. The sight and reminder of how hard he just made you cum has you unintentionally squeezing around the fingers still buried to the knuckles within you. 

He groans, tilting forward and opening his mouth ready to make you see stars all over again but you quickly put your hand to his head, palm to his forehead to hold him back. “Lemme eat your pussy, baby, prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen. Most delicious pussy ever. Could eat you forever. Let me. Please?” He’s got a slight slur to his words as he speaks, voice pitched higher than normal as he begs in a tone verging on a whine. 

“D-don’t you want to fuck me?” You ask, words a slight pant still, too soon from the intense orgasm to have your breath back but you don’t care. He can steal all the breath from your lungs so long as he makes you cum like that. 

“Fuck you?” He repeats dumbly. You nod and then it’s like a switch has been flipped. All of the innocent pussy-drunk expression and voice vanishes in an instant as his eyes turn heavy-lidded and his lips turn up into a smirk. “Yeah? Want me to fuck you, sweetheart?” His fingers in you start to move, making you jolt a little in surprise and reach down to try and remove them. “No no no, you gotta take my fingers first, baby. Need to show me you can take them before I give you my cock, okay? This is such a pretty pussy, I don’t want to ruin it by giving you my cock before you’re ready.” 

You can’t really say anything in response, both from his words and the way he’s skillfully moving those two fingers in you, slow but pressing in all the right ways to stretch you out and drag all ability to form anything but pathetic moans from your parted lips. 

“That’s it, good, just take it. You can take it for me, right, baby?” You nod quickly at his words. “Can you take another finger?” Another nod so he pulls his fingers out most of the way to work a third in beside them. “That’s my girl, fuck.” He breathes out, watching the way your pussy opens around his fingers as he carefully feeds the digits into you. 

It doesn’t take much longer for Mingyu to pull his fingers out of you and get up to his feet. You barely have time to react before he has your hips in his hands and spins you to face the window. The sun is right in your face like this, lessened in power by the window yet still an annoyance so you lean over all the way down onto your elbows and rest your forehead on your forearms.

“Oh,” Mingyu breathes out, watching you bend over the desk and stops his task of shoving down his swimming shorts to free his leaking cock. “Fucking perfect.” He approves and gives you a quick spank to watch your asscheek wobble with the impact. 

He hadn’t expected the moan that tumbles from your lips and pauses for a moment as he considers spanking you until your ass is raw and there are imprints of his hands left on your skin like a claim. 

But then his cock twitches desperately and he gets back to work shoving his shorts down enough and taking his thick, heavy cock into his hand to run his hand up and down the length, spreading precum over his heated skin while his free hand tugs your bikini bottoms aside.

A breathless curse spills from his lips when he aligns his cock with your dripping hole, he wants to bury himself to the hilt in your warmth right away but he’s very aware that frankly put, he has a giant cock, so he needs to take it slow to not hurt you.

As soon as the head pops into you, you’re moaning and trying to push back for more. Mingyu has to take a firm hold of your ass cheek and push you forward against the edge of the desk to stop you moving too fast. If you keep it up, he will fuck into you without hesitation and he’s already trembling with the effort of holding back.

Little does he know, you want him to fucking ruin you. You want him to fuck you so hard and deep that you can’t take a step for the next few days without thinking of his cock splitting you open.

But you don’t have the brain power to make your tongue move to form that specific string of syllables so you’re forced to just remain pinned to the desk as he feeds you inch by thick inch of his cock at an almost agonisingly slow pace.

But the time his hips are pressed up against your ass, he’s shaking with his eyes squeezed tightly closed and both hands gripping your hips so tightly you just know there will be bruises in the shape of his fingers afterwards. Bruises you’ll wear proudly. 

“Fuck, baby, this fucking pussy,” He groans as you pulsate around his throbbing length. 

He needs a moment, needs more than one really, with how fucking close he is already to filling you with his cum but you press back against him as best as you can considering his grip. It’s barely any movement but he gets the hint, you really don’t want him to wait anymore and fuck, neither does he.

Mingyu slowly pulls his hips back, sliding half of his length out of you before sliding back in in the same slow, careful manner. He’s testing the waters, the give of your pussy and his own resolve, really. And all three give so fucking easily that the next time he pulls out, it's all the way until only his tip is tucked up safely inside of you before he thrusts forward harshly making you cry out and scramble to brace a palm against the window above your head blindly. 

“That’s it, hold on, baby,” He encourages with a heavy exhale as he adjusts his footing and hold on you before he starts to fuck you like a man possessed. 

It’s hard and fast and so fucking deep that he’s hitting places within you that you didn’t even fucking know exist before his cock found them. Or maybe they’re special places his cock is carving out and no one will ever be able to access them again. No one will make your mind blank and eyes roll back so far that all you see is the mental image of Mingyu’s giant cock wrecking your pussy in the best of ways.

You’re being loud, both of you, moaning and whining with every drag of his cock through your rapidly tightening walls. But neither of you cares, neither of you has the presence of mind to consider anything but the way it feels to fuck and be fucked like this. 

At this point, you’re so close to another incredible orgasm that you wouldn’t even care if the door opened, you probably wouldn’t even notice and honestly, neither would Mingyu. 

And when Mingyu tilts forward enough to wind a strong arm under your waist to press his palm against the flat of your chest to pull you up until your back is against his bare, sweat-dappled chest, you almost scream in pleasure at the new somehow deeper spot he’s grinding into.

There’s a little part of Mingyu that’s still aware that you’re in public and his place of work even if he’s not consciously aware of it, and that part of him is the reason his hand flies up from your chest to your throat and squeezes in the exact fucking way to cut off your airflow.

It’s the last nudge you need to hurtle into the single most mind-shattering, nirvana-inducing orgasm of your fucking life. At least so far because once you’re more coherent, you’ll definitely think about how much you want him to fuck you again in all sorts of ways.

A choked, cut off moan spills from Mingyu’s mouth as you clamp down around his cock so tightly as your pussy absolutely gushes around him that it sends him over too. His hand on your hip quickly moves, sliding around over your lower stomach to wrap his arm around your waist and hold you tight as he ruts into you and fills you with his cum. 

It feels fucking endless, the length of your orgasm and how much it takes out of you even though it truly doesn’t last that long. It’s just an all-encompassing feeling that feels like utter bliss, a neverending pulse of pleasure, pure fucking serenity.

“You okay?” Mingyu manages to breathe out once his cock has stopped twitching as your throbbing walls milk him for every drop of cum in his body. His chest is heaving against your back, matching the deep rise and fall of your own chest, even if he had released the pressure on your throat as soon as his cock had started to empty in you. 

You can’t respond yet, you’re not quite back on planet Earth making Mingyu chuckle a little, fond of you already, and cocky at his own abilities to fuck you so dumb like this. 

Carefully, he draws his hips back to slide out of you with a wince and hears the splatter of cum hitting the wooden boards. But that’s a problem for after he’s looked after you.

Mingyu is so fucking gentle as he grabs the towel from the desk and uses it to clean between your thighs as best as he can without removing his arm from around you to keep you propped up. 

Then he manoeuvres you onto the wooden chair on your right before getting to his knees to spread your legs wide once he’s between them with his knees pressed to the floorboards. For a few seconds, he just stares dumbly at the sight of his cum leaking out of your swollen pussy and he almost leans in to clean you up with his mouth but you’re already so out of it that he figures he better not. He’ll save that for next time. 

Fuck, he really fucking hopes there’s a next time.

You come back to reality when Mingyu is doing his best to slide your shorts back up your legs. 

“Hey, beautiful,” He greets you when he notices you moving slightly and looks up to see you blinking down at him. “How you feeling?” 

“Like I had the life fucked out of me.” You reply, giving him a sated, borderline dopey smile that makes him laugh. You reach out to him and he happily leans up to let you run your hands over his shoulders and to his neck so that you can tug him in and kiss him. 

He sighs in contentment as your lips move together slowly like you have all the time in the world. Like there’s nothing that either of you would rather be doing than this right here. 

“Should’ve kissed you earlier,” He murmurs when you both naturally pull apart for air and he rests his forehead against yours. “Sorry, got carried away.” 

“There’s no need to apologise, seriously, that was…” You trail off and just giggle instead, fingers playing with his hair near his nape. 

“It was.” He agrees with a chuckle and leans back to look at you. “Could we maybe do that again?” 

“Now?” You baulk.

“No, not now.” He giggles. “I really can’t do that again now, I think I’ll pass out if I try to do anything like that now.” He assures, squeezing your thighs a little where his hands lay. “But another day in the future, when we’ve both recovered.” 

“That sounds much more reasonable to me.” 

“Reasonable, huh?” He teases and nips at your cheek playfully making you giggle. “And what about a date? Does that sound reasonable to you?” 

“No.” Mingyu’s face drops so fast as he looks at you. He looks pretty heartbroken, honestly. “I didn’t mean no as in no to the date!” You rush to assure, cupping his cheeks and brushing your thumbs soothingly over his skin. 

He pouts and pushes into your hold. “Then what do you mean?” 

“Just that it doesn’t sound reasonable but very nice and something I would definitely love to do.” 

“Oh.” He turns into your palm to try and hide the cute happy little smile that lifts his mouth and exposes his teeth, but you feel it. He presses a kiss to your palm before facing you again, no longer hiding his smile. “Good, good, I’m glad you’d love to. I’d love to as well. Maybe after my shift ends we can get lunch? Well, we’d have to take Vernon too and I guess your friend but they can entertain each other at another table.” 

You giggle and nod in agreement. “Sounds perfect to me.” 

Don’t forget to reblog if you liked to help spread the story and let others read it too! And don't be shy to leave comments or send an ask so I can see your thoughts 🥺 💖

Taglist; @variety-is-the-joy-of-life

[haerni]

[ ♥︎ ] ── drunkenly in love  |  lhs.

in which heeseung comes to you with stupid smiles, slurred words ‘nd with tipsy thoughts of you.

content : fem reader , fluff , intoxication , drunk hee! , petnames , wc. 811 , minimal proofread . hes a lil bit clingy & a loser but hes charming ! ><

notes. videos of heeseung giggling while drunk is actually cute like omg i will bite u

“hi, baby.”

heeseung smiles at you like you have just saved the world and frankly, maybe you did in another universe—maybe you did not, either way heeseung adores you with any shape or form that he could muster up.

and his smile is contagious, muttering off into the night his eyes fluttering as he shift his weight on his right leaning to the door frame of your home with jay beside him on his left assisting him in fear of him falling on his own weight.

jay smiles apologetically, “the guys kept giving him drinks. he kept losing in the game, to be honest.” he says as he tries to keep your boyfriend upright. “sorry, yn. he kept saying he should see you and he wouldn’t stop whining.”

you crinkle at the thought, “it’s okay. thank you for bringing him home safe.” you waved off. “you should go, i’m pretty sure jake is vomiting out.. the window?”

you hear a curse leaving from his mouth, panicking as he looks back into the car.

“shit. i’m really sorry, again. gotta get those guys home.” he sighs exasperatedly.

a giggle escapes you, bidding the man goodbyes and a well safe travel. taking heeseung from his arms and from your door frame, your boyfriend drapes himself over you. a strong smell of liquor comes from him, making you scrunch away a little from the scent. he hums from the contact instantly melting over you.

“you smell so good,” he muttered, nuzzling into your head. “i’ve missed you, pretty.”

“you got pretty drunk, huh?” a lilt in your tone tells him you’re not all too mad at him. not really finding any reason to do so, you figured he deserves to loosen up a little bit and have fun with the guys.

he only nods thoughtlessly, dragging himself inside your home all the way to your shared bedroom with you by his side. he plops down the mattress as he lays there smacking his lips and frowning trying to relieve the reeling of his head.

“i should get you some water. stay here, ‘seungie.” untangling yourself from him, you stand making your way outside, but not even a step forward a hand wraps up to your wrist forcing you to stay on your spot.

“where are you going?” he looks a little like a lost deer under the warm lights, his eyes sharing the same shine. “don’t go.” a pout resides on his lips as he tries to keep himself up from the bed.

“i’m just getting you water, you need to stay hydrated, hee.” you try to reason with him.

“‘m fine, just stay here.” he tugs you to him.

you try to resist, standing your ground into getting him some water, but his grip on you only stays as you move some more.

in your endeavor of keeping your boyfriend hydrated has somehow ended up with you losing your balance and him dragging you to lay by his side of the bed with his arms encased around you. you huffed, accepting your faith and would have to get him something in the morning (you can only trust that jay has already took care of him and managed to get him to drink something other than alcohol in his system.)

heeseung hums pleased, feeling your body against his as the night descends upon his mind and eyes. a semblance of comfort takes him with your warmth that he recognizes. admitting defeat you let yourself be engulfed with heeseung’s embrace.

it’s quiet.

but you don’t mind, you bask in it and so does heeseung. his fingers trail over your skin, drawing random patterns of anything just to feel you. the night strolls a little slower now.

“..hey,” heeseung whispers softly.

you grin at him, you couldn’t help it. after all it was heeseung, it was just him, but it was enough for the butterflies finding themselves in your stomach, “hey, you too.”

there was something in the way his cheeks are all in a soft cherry color and that dopey smile that adorns his face whenever he drinks a little too much than he would take, was just endearing to you. and his eyes just flutter more and his face breaks out from adoration—you couldn’t fall just a little more than you already did.

“i love you.” he did so, breathing it as if a prayer he utters every night. “i love you so much— god, you probably have no idea, baby.”

it’s desperation that you yearn just as the same, and maybe the simplicity of it, was everything all at once that was enough for you. your eyes find his once more as they hold sincerity that can rival how deep the ocean can go.

“i love you too, hee.” you whispered just as the same. “more than yesterday, less than tomorrow.”

© haerni 2024 . likes, comments & reblogs are highly appreciated!

[tbaluver]

The Love And DeepSpace Men- Boyfriend Headcanons

parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader genre: fluff fluff a/n: i might make a part two of this i just thought this was a cute idea in my drafts (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

He is your weighted blanket whenever you need him. Literally and figuratively. When you sleep, he provides so much warmth. His head could be on your chest as he dozes off when you play with the locks of his hair. His arms would be around your body, occasionally pressing light kisses on your arms.

Your big baby. The warmth and softness of you and hearing the sound of your heartbeat soothes him. Therefore, he loves being the little spoon when cuddling despite the height difference between you two. He leans into your touch a lot so just hold him tight and run your fingers through his hair as he nuzzles his face into your chest.

He has the most confusing food combos he's cooked but you try them anyway. Sometimes it's not shocking to you that it's not your cup of tea so you decide it's best to just get take out instead or that you cook anyway. You both can cook your own plates at the same time in the kitchen or you'll help him cook what he wants even if the food combo is questionable so he doesn't burn the house down.

Will celebrate all of your achievements no matter how small. You were nervous about an exam? "Woot" Will be happy and proud that you got it over with and you'll both find something small or big to do to celebrate it

Cute date ideas would be stargazing or picnics in the park. Packing simple easy foods and treats while you both enjoy the scenery and afternoon. Or having a blanket out at the park while you watch the stars at night but he's looking at you.

Zayne:

The type to kiss you in bed every single night and when you both wake up. He'll kiss you on the lips, or the top of your head while he cups your cheek.

He'll always listen to your problems. He's an amazing listener and he gives logical advice as well as encouragement and praises depending on what the situation is.

He's a busy man but he tries to plan dates with you at least two or three times a week. If he has a busy schedule he'll make it up to you. Some dates include checking out new cafes to try new sweets or bakeries.

He's also a gentleman! He'll hold any door open whether it's a restaurant, yours or his home, or the car door, etc. He always tries to pick you up and drop you off. He'll also wait until your inside your home safely before leaving. He'll always stay on the dangerous side of the road or sidewalk whenever you both are walking together. With him you're never walking on the wrong side of the road whenever he's with you! If you were both in a busy area, he'll let you link your arms together, or intertwine your hands together, or he'll have his hand on your back so he knows your with him.

He'll make the effort to call you whenever he can. During his breaks from work, he'll call to see how you're doing. Or he'll call you at night to wish you a goodnight before he does an operation because he might not make it back home in time.

When he comes home late at night, he's cautious on handling your sleeping form because he does not want to wake up your peaceful sleep. He'll tuck your head in the crook of his neck, his chin resting on the top of your head before pulling up the covers over your body.

Rafayel:

You are his muse. He is so in love with you that you fill up his mind so most of his works would be inspired by you. He would have many sketchbooks filled with sketches of mostly just you and sometimes of you and him. The sketchbook is filled with your side profile, your eyes, your smile, your hands, any parts of you that he has adored for years. One time he planned on drawing the scenery of the beach but he decided to sketch you instead. Or there would be times where you're at a restaurant and he'll doodle you on a napkin. Or when you're both at the beach, he'll grab a stick and draw you on the beach.

Being in a relationship with him basically means you will always have a companion. He'll trail on you wherever you go like you literally cannot get rid of him. When you want to shower by yourself, he'll stay on the other side of the shower talking about anything. He just likes having you by his side. You can sit near him while he paints a new canvas and sometimes he'll ask you your opinions. He'll also want you to travel with him if he had to fly out for exhibitions.

Although he can be very playful and a tease, he'll do anything for you. You just have to ask him. He's wrapped around your finger.

He'll buy matching jewelry for the both of you and he'll buy any dresses or outfits that he thinks you would love or that would look gorgeous on you.

He also loves loves it when you give him words of affirmation. He loves hearing when you compliment him or tell him that you love him and he'll also love doing that to you as well.

Sylus:

He would reprogram Mephisto to like you and not squawk/ claw you. If he was far away from a business situation he would have Mephisto or Luke and Kieran keep you company. The twins will probably tell you any stories you want about Sylus. He'll also make calls or text you to update you on anything while he's far away.

On nights when he's not home, he'll intentionally leave some of his shirts out because he knows you sleep in his shirts as you drift off into sleep. He makes sure that they smell like 'him'.

Loves holding hands anytime he can with you. Or just loves having his hands on you. Always has his hand on your back or intertwined with yours or wrapped around your waist.

Makes time for you anytime he can. He'll literally just give you his card and follow you around while you shop. He's also the type of partner to buy you everything that you touch. If there's a time where you're upset about something that's sold out, he'll be searching for it and buying it overnight with the fastest delivery!

He'll also find your height difference funny. Sometimes he'll place his hand out on your head and tease you. Or sometimes he'll hold things above his head and find your expression funny because it's still impossible for you to reach.

[rebelliousstories]

Can I request suggestive headcanons for Remy, Logan, Wade, and poly Logan & Wade reacting to his shy gn s/o immediately covering their eyes while apologising profusely because they accidentally saw him half-naked because he was changing clothes please?

Walking in on Their S/O Changing…

Fandom: X-Men

Request: Yes by Anon

Warnings: Suggestive themes, Brief Strong Language, Fluff

Word Count: 1,043

Main Masterlist: Here

X-Men Masterlist: Here

Logan Howlett/ The Wolverine

* Okay, so keep in mind that this man has been alive for more than 200 years. He’s seen a lot. He’s done a lot. There is not much else that can surprise him in terms of learning new things

* However… You can still surprise him

* I completely see him as a man that would just casually steamroll past the fact that you were only in your undergarments. He’s not phased, nor does he care.

* Logan will definitely take the time to ogle if he gets the chance, but he’s aware there is a time and place for that.

* “Hey, we were out of beer so I took the truck to go get some… oh shit.” And with that, he was speechless. Logan’s eyes would trail up and down your figure, even though part of it was obscured by the tshirt that was pressed against your body

* Silently, he would stalk closer and closer to you, never once taking his eyes off of you. His hands would gently pull the shirt away so he could get a better look. Feather light touches would cascade themselves down your arms, and chest; all the while his eyes would drink it up

* Picking you up, he walked over to the bed while holding you and pressing his nose into the crook of your neck

* “What about the beer?”

* “Forget the beer.”

Wade Wilson/Deadpool

* Oh, the beloved merc with the mouth. How do I say this gently? He will both make you love and hate him walking on you. It all started because he had gotten you a new suit that he wanted you to wear.

* Wade had begged and begged you to wear it, but there was no appropriate timing to do so. It had gotten to the point that he had accepted that you weren’t going to wear it. But when you finally had been worn down enough, he got super giddy at the prospect of you wearing it. But you had taken too long in his mind which prompted him to take matters into his own hands.

* “What’s taking you so long, angel cakes? Oh, hello.”

* “Wade! Get out!”

* Throwing things does not deter this man, oh no, my friend. For when he gets a glimpse of you, half undressed with the suit on the bed, he’s gonna need his special sock. Wade is frozen in a state of bliss and was unable to move himself. Not until you forcibly pushed him out, and shut the door on him. When you had finally put the suit on and came out to show him, he was still unable to form complete sentences or even words at you.

* Safe to say, you had finally silenced “the mouth”

Remy LeBeau/Gambit

* Ah, Le Diable Blanc. See, I know, you want me to come on here and talk about how big of a flirt Remy is. But no! That boy is a southerner, and southern men are raised to be gentlemen. I truly, in my heart of hearts believe, that if Remy caught you changing, he would blush and book it out of there.

* Hear me out! Just, imagine it, okay…

* It’s late and Remy hasn’t come home from his night out playing cards. The hour was nearing one in the morning, when you finally decide to call it a night, but you’re unable to fall asleep quite yet. Fearing that you’ll have to spend another night watching horrible late night reruns in the motel, you began changing into one of his tshirts to sleep in when you heard the door open. Struggling to get the shirt over your head to have some sort of coverage, you weren’t quite fast enough.

* “Ooh, I tell you cher, it was a goo- oh lord have mercy.”

* And like that, the door was shut again. Maybe you let out a squeak, maybe a gasp. But either way, your ragin’ Cajun was outside the room, breathing heavily and holding it shut. After a few minutes, he pressed his ear to the door to hear inside.

* “Cher, you dressed yet?”

* “Yeah. You can come in.”

* When he does, you’re already under the covers with the remote to the tv next to you, looking at the door. Gambit just grabbed his change of clothes that didn’t smell like sweat, alcohol, and smoke, and went to change in the bathroom. When he came out, he assumed his place with you in bed. On his back with you tucked into his side.

* Although, the only mention he ever gave, was a whisper of, “You look real pretty under all that, cher. Like an angel sent straight to save ol’ Gambit.”

Poly! Wolverine and Deadpool

* Prepare for trouble and make it double! Two lovers with a regenerative healing factor that makes snarky comments? Sign me up!

* This is definitely happening after a morning food run. You’re living with them, and Mary Puppins, and Blind Al, and Wade decided that today was the day for donuts and good coffee. Logan was thoughtful enough to leave a note on his side of the bed stating where they were going and that they would be back.

* This left you and the dog to get ready for the day by yourselves. After a lengthy shower that you didn’t have to share, you had made your way into the room to get some fashion advice from the sweet little pupper.

* “Okay girl. Do we go with the yellow dress, or the red dress today?”

* There was a noise, and two men bumbled into the room.

* “Avert your eyes, sweet summer child. But you should just forgo the dress. And the under garments while you’re at it.”

* “Can you go five minutes without something becoming sexual?”

* Wade gave an mhm while shaking his head, and turned back to his partner. Logan had to do a double take at your state, but there was appreciation in his eyes.

* “Can you two give us girls some privacy?”

* Logan had to drag his counter part out of there even though he managed to break free from the mutant’s hold on a number of occasions. As he left, the Wolverine sent an affirmative grunt and nod towards the red dress in your hands.

[megamindsecretlair]

'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

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