#when the sun came up you were looking at me!!!!

[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

Taglist:

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@browngirldominion @iv0rysoap @thecookiebratz @harmshake @00aijia00

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

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@thegreatlibraryofalex @amyhennessyhouse @hihellogoodbyebruh @becauseimswagman1

[himbodruid]

Merry Christmas, ya filthy animals 😘

Midnight Warmth

What happens when Sylus brings you to one of his remote countryside homes for a long weekend?

An expansion on the Midnight Warmth Secret Times

Sylus x Reader

Soft Sylus -:- he loses control -:- you get no sleep

Intended for readers 18+. MINORS DNI

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The week had been a long and hard one, full of ups and downs. Disappointment was high near the end when your team had failed to gather intel on illegal protocore operations, the lead having been bogus from the start.

You were just glad for four glorious days off of work, days you would get to spend with Sylus. The moment he learned you had a long weekend, he planned to whisk you away to one of the ranch houses he owned out in the middle of nowhere. Surrounded by nothing but fields and forests, you were excited to watch the frosty April sunrises with the horses grazing in the fields.

The moment you arrived at the house, though, exhaustion pulled at your bones. The drive had been longer than you expected, and the fact you had to navigate the winding country roads on your own didn’t help. Sylus told you he wouldn’t be there until later in the night, to make yourself comfortable and choose whichever room you wanted. He’d planned on making the drive with you, but something came up last minute that needed to be taken care of.

You hauled your bags in and plopped them right onto the floor of the first room you found. The decor was quite similar to Sylus’s base, but you didn’t really have time to take it in before you were sprawled across the bed and nodding off.

You awoke sometime later, then the sun had set, to Sylus gently brushing hair out of your face with the back of his knuckles. You smiled and stretched, allowing him to pull you up and into a hug. His riding leathers were still cool from the evening breeze, and you rubbed your face on the buttery leather surface

“Sorry I’m late, love,” he said. You didn’t even know how long you’d been asleep, but you were glad to be wrapped in his warm embrace all the same.

“It’s okay, you’re here now,” you say, sleep still evident in your voice. “I’ve missed you.”

His lips met the crown of your hair before he released you. He walked over and gathered your luggage, teasing you about how much you’d brought for a simple four day getaway. You defended yourself by claiming you had to be prepared for everything.

“Well, are you prepared to share a room with me, or did you mean to take this one?”

You could feel your face flush and you took a closer look at the room. A wall lined with everything music should have been your first clue, or even the beautiful console record player that was set up on an adjacent wall. That explained why the bedding held a faint hint of Sylus’s spicy scent and why you were lulled to sleep so quickly.

“Honestly, I just crashed in the first room I found. I can take a different room, it’s not a problem!”

You made to move towards your bags, but you were blocked by Sylus holding them away from you. Looking up at him, you quirked a brow in confusion. You made a grab at them again, only for him to take a step back.

“Oh, no, love. You chose this room and now it’s yours. It’s also your decision on if you want me to stay or if you want me elsewhere.”

This playfully mischievous side of Sylus had become more prominent the last couple of months, but his words still made you pause. At the base, you had your own rooms just a few doors down from Sylus, and any other dwelling he owned it was the same story. You’d snuck into his rooms more times than you could count, but…

“Could you…stay?” You asked timidly. You’d never fully shared a single space with him, and the bed was large enough to fit a horse between the two of you if really necessary. Sylus smiled that crooked half-smirk of his and gathered up your things once again. You plopped onto the bench at the foot of the bed, watching as he swiftly unpacked your luggage and put them away in the closet and dresser. It was such a domestic task that all you could do was watch dumbly as the universe’s most wanted criminal just…neatly folded or hung your clothes. Existential was too mild of a word for what you were feeling right then.

When he was done, he removed his jacket and also made sure to hang that in the large closet by the door. You didn’t realize you’d let your eyes trail down his broad back to his leather-clad ass until he turned around and chuckled. Your face flamed, and you quickly looked away.

“Come, Kitten, the cook should have something prepared for us by now.”

You were grateful that he didn’t tease you for getting caught staring. You couldn’t help it, though. His clothes were tailored to fit his athletic frame to perfection, almost like they were just painted on. The black shirt he wore was stretched taut across his shoulders and clung to him straight down to his narrow waist and hips. And those damnable leather pants that looked like they barely contained him with the zippered panels on each side of his- you shook yourself, forcing your eyes away from his ass again. His chuckle let you know that he was very well aware you were checking him out, but he chose not to comment.

Something must be wrong with you. Sure, he was an attractive man, but you’d never been so caught up in him to openly stare at him like that before. You were usually much more reserved, so you decided to blame it on the atmosphere and the idea of being relatively alone with him for the whole weekend. Or maybe you were just touch-starved and horny, not that you would ever admit to it.

Dinner held a vast array of food you loved, and you were suspicious that he called ahead to make sure everything was prepared to your exact liking. You chose not to press the matter, instead dancing happily at each delicious bite.

Dinner ended with Sylus teasing you about how you managed to stay so small while eating so much. You flexed your meager biceps at him, spouting some nonsense about being a hunter keeping you fit. It wasn’t fully a lie, but a lot of the job was desk work along with field work.

After dinner, Sylus took you on a quick tour of the main house, explaining that the property was actually a housing complex of people he employed to keep it running. A large barn also rested on the property, housing the finest horseflesh Sylus could find. His prized stallion, an Akhal-Teke, also resided there. You listened to his gravelly voice with rapt attention, adding things to your mental list of all the things you wanted to do.

Even through the excitement, you found yourself dozing off when you sat to watch a movie with Sylus in front of a crackling fire. He lounged on the chaise section of the sofa and your head rested in his lap. He bundled you in the soft throw blanket that lay across the back of the sofa. His large hand rested on your shoulder, letting his fingers play in your hair, and the feeling of safety was so immense that you had no qualms about napping.

The movie reached some sort of crescendo that startled you awake. You stretched, playing it off as though it hadn’t scared you. Turning your gaze upward, you saw Sylus watching you instead of the film. He sat with his arm resting on the sofa arm, cheek palmed, and a painfully tender expression on his face while he played with your hair.

“What?” He said with a smile, swirling a strand of your hair around a finger on his free hand. “You’re still awake?”

“Whaddya mean ‘still’? I was asleep but now it’s too loud,” you grumbled.

“You’re the one who asked me to put on a movie to help you fall asleep. And now you’re complaining it’s too loud?” He said with a chuckle, gently tugging that strand of hair. “You’re fussy, Kitten.”

You rolled your eyes with a smile and sat up, snuggling closer to him until the both of you were stretched on the chaise. His arm came around your shoulder and you rested your head against his chest. You listened to the steady thrum of his heart, an unnamed emotion swelling in your chest. You were really here, with him.

“Do you really like this place?” He murmured against your hair as he placed a gentle kiss there.

“Mhm, I’m so excited that I can’t sleep.” He chuckled at your statement, seeing as you had napped twice since arriving.

“You're spoiled rotten, that's for sure.”

“Only because you spoil me,” you say, scrunching your nose. You fall into companionable silence, still having no clue what was happening in the movie. It appeared to be some sort of vampire romance flick, but you couldn’t focus with the way his fingers drifted across your skin.

“Stay here a few more days,” he murmured, suddenly. “Extend your vacation. After all, it’s just you and me.”

You thought about it some, on the verge of agreeing. After all, you never took time off, and you had a hefty cache of vacation hours built up. You would have to call Captain Jenna and request more time, but that was a problem for tomorrow.

“We’ll see. But I already know what I wanna do tomorrow!”

“Tell me,” he said softly.

“You’re really gonna trust me with the planning?”

He chuckled, “I'll see what you’re planning first, and then decide whether I'll come.”

You shifted, turning so that you could face him a little more fully. The action put you in a position that may as well have you laying on him, and you could feel a blush slowly creep across your face. Sylus seemed unphased, though, watching you with half-lidded eyes.

“How about…picking strawberries?” You threw out the idea without much thought to the frost that still greeted the mornings.

“Sure, why not,” he said with a smile. “There’s a farm nearby.”

“You’ll have to teach me horseback riding, of course.” You were conscious of his face getting closer to yours, his hands chastely exploring you.

“Okay. We have a racetrack in the back,” he said. Something in his voice made you want to shiver. His tone dropped and his usual rasp was more noticeable. “What else?”

You mindlessly rattled off other things you wanted to do. You’d made a whole list before even leaving for the country, and admittedly it was…a lot.

Sylus chuckled and mirrored your thoughts. “That’s a lot.”

“I just…want to spend time with you. As much as I can.”

“Your words are coated in honey,” he rumbled. “But if you’re tired and complain halfway through…”

He rolled you halfway underneath him, so that you were now laid down on the chaise and he laid on his side beside you, propped up on an elbow with his head resting in his palm. He leaned in, caressing your cheek. “I wont accept that.”

You knew your face was flaming. You couldn’t help skirting your gaze from his eyes to those perfect cupid’s bow lips that hovered entirely too close. Huffing out a heated breath, you dragged the blanket over your head in embarrassment.

“Don’t hide under the blanket, Kitten.” He tugged at the blanket, and you let him pull it away from your face. “I remember everything you said.”

“I’m not hiding,” you said. Your voice was too bright and awkward, making the lie obvious. You cleared your throat before adding, “I’m going to sleep.”

“But your eyes are still open.” He flashed that devilish half-smirk that you loved. “Can you fall asleep while looking at my face?”

“Hmm. Maybe if you sleep with me.” The words escaped you before you could think about their meaning, and you were glad he seemingly chose to ignore it.

“Did you forget what time it is, hm? For me, the day has just begun.” He heaved a sigh, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “Since you can’t fall asleep, I'll tell you a story.”

“A story?” You raised a brow and smiled. You rolled to lay on your side, giving him your full undivided attention. The crackling of the fire added to the ambiance of your shared intimacy, and you wouldn’t trade this moment for the world.

“It took place in this…old castle. Tuck yourself in, close your eyes,” he began. You pulled the blanket up and draped it over the both of you, and then you obediently closed your eyes. The lilting rumble of his voice would be enough to lull you to sleep any other time, but the air crackling between you felt too charged.

“Once upon a time, this castle was shrouded in a heavy fog. Every year, there would be a day when the fog disappeared. Only then can one truly see the castle.”

“Hmm, and how did you hear of this castle?” You opened your eyes, needing to see him as he told the story.

“An old man who used to live nearby told me about it,” he chuckled.

“Is this a true story?”

He quirked a brow at your absurdity, gifting you with another warm smile. “How am I supposed to know if the story’s real or make-believe?

“Anyway, a girl found herself lost in the woods. She was lucky to stumble upon the castle when the fog was gone. She knocked on the door.”

“And did a prince answer the door?” You could feel yourself getting lost in him and needed to ground yourself.

“I’m afraid not. Sorry,” he said. “The castle was empty, so the girl decided to live there. Then, one day, as she was getting ready to sleep, the fireplace suddenly roared to life.”

His sentence was punctuated by a shift in the fireplace and a series of crackling sparks being released. The sudden sound startled you and you gripped his hand.

“Why are you holding my hand so tightly,” he chuckled. “Relax. It’s not scary.”

You moved closer to him anyway and he chuckled.

“How is this not an excuse to cuddle me,” he teased.

“So what if it is,” you grumble in reply. “Just continue the story.”

“The girl took a deep breath, turned around and saw- Yes, the window was open.”

You scrunched up your nose at the unexpected turn. He grinned and played with your hair while watching the expressions play on your fact with rapt interest.

“You seem to be disappointed. I told you it wasn’t scary, what were you expecting?”

“I don’t know, maybe she’d see a vampire. Perfect for an old creepy castle surrounded by fog.” He was leaning into you and you were acutely aware of the heat his body radiated. You swallowed but found your throat dry.

“Hm, I guess that makes sense,” he murmured, bringing a strand of your hair to his nose. “The movie we were watching did the same thing. The girl had walked into a vampire’s castle. Hmmh, come to think of it…the vampire’s castle and this castle look similar.”

He pulled away slightly, his eyes darting around your face as you looked at him. “What are you thinking about?”

“You kinda look like a vampire,” you say with a mischievous smile.

“How so?” His hands roamed over you again, and it took effort to concentrate on his question.

“Well, you have pale skin and red eyes. And you seem to be…very active at night,” you murmur as you allow your hand to flatten against his neck. He moved his chin up a little, letting you explore him.

“I do sound like one when you put it that way. What else?”

You poked his cheek. “You also like to bully people.”

“Bully people? How does a vampire bully someone, exactly?” He leaned over you again, imposing and crowding your space. His lips hovered so close to yours in a silent threat, only proving your point.

“Like this?” He asked. His lips descended, and you leaned up to receive him, but his face diverted at the last second. Instead, he buried his face against your neck.

“Let me…sniff your neck.”

You let your head fall back and your hand that rested on his neck slid to the back of his head. Your gasp rose to mingle with the sounds of the fire.

“Mmmh,” he moaned. “Your scent…I want it.”

He pushed you back into the chaise, rolling on top of you. You became aware of every inch of him that touched you. His knee wedged between your thighs, and it took far more effort than you cared to admit to not rub yourself on him. Your arms wrapped around broad shoulders and your hands met at the back of his head to touch his feather soft silvery strands.

“I’ll just…nibble this,” he murmured against your neck before his tongue found your pulse. Teeth scraped against your skin and you couldn’t contain the gasp that escaped. You tilted your chin to give him better access. But then he pulled away.

“Is that it?” He asked, lowering his lips to capture yours for a moment. His thigh pressed more firmly into the apex of yours, and you couldn’t help but to suck your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Don’t bite your lip,” he growled. “Look me in the eye, answer me.”

You couldn’t answer him, you were far too focused on keeping your body still instead of squirming against him. His eyes left yours, searching out where he’d bitten you, looking to see if a mark rose there. A self-satisfied grin on his face told you there was one.

“Was I too rough? Is this what they call bullying?”

“You did it on purpose,” you complained half-heartedly.

“You’re the one who said I looked like a vampire,” he chuckled. “And in the movie, the girl got marked right…here.”

His finger brushed against the opposite side of your neck, tapping your thundering pulse with those damnably elegant fingers of his. Your breaths came in short bursts, his simple touches igniting your body. You thought you could feel his body reacting to yours, the length of him stiffening against your hip as he teased you.

“I want to leave a mark, too,” he murmured against your neck. And then he latched on, his mouth working at your skin in a way you knew would leave a hickey that would be visible for weeks. Your fingers tangled in his hair, the sensations of him sucking on your neck sending tremors through you. He pulled back and observed the purpling mark.

“Mmh. It’s still not enough,” he growled. He dipped his head again, using that hot mouth to create more marks on your neck and collarbone with satisfied growls. Your gasps and moans rose to mingle with his sounds. His hands roamed your torso, sneakily lifting your shirt until your breasts were bared to him.

“Why did you close your eyes? You’re finally going to bed?” He kissed the top swell of your breasts. “You don’t want to listen to my story anymore?”

Words wouldn’t come to you as he tugged down your bra so that he could swirl his tongue around your nipple.

“But, Kitten. I haven’t even gotten to the ending. The girl and the vampire were snuggled against each other.” He moved to tease your other breast. “It was a tranquil, midwinter day. Sitting in front of the fireplace…”

You gasped and arched into him when his teeth scraped against your nipple. Your every nerve was on fire and you wanted to push him away and pull him close at the same time. He crowded your every sense and you couldn’t get enough of him.

“Hold me,” he murmured, “but not too hard. Save your strength for later.”

His mouth traveled further down, completely contradicting his command. He left a trail of biting kisses, pausing every so often to leave a mark.

“I t-though you wanted to help me sleep by telling the story,” you said, mind overwhelmed by the sensations he was eliciting.

“Yeah…but now I regret it. You’re not sleepy at all.” His gaze flicked back up to yours and his hand slipped beneath the hem of your shorts, into your underwear and you sucked in a breath when his fingers slid through your slick folds. “I need to try something else.”

In one swift motion, he had your shorts and underwear stripped from you and you laid bare beneath him save for your sweater and bra. He perched your legs on his shoulders, settling his face between your legs when he looked up at you with a predatory gaze.

“We won't wake up in time to…pick…strawberries in the morning.” His tongue found your clit and you gasped. He worked at you, licking, sucking, biting until you couldn’t hold back the sounds of your pleasure any longer. When it felt like you were about to fall over the edge, he stopped with a dark chuckle.

“The strawberries aren’t ripe…yet,” he said. He lifted himself from you, and your sound of protest died on your lips when you realized it was so that he could strip his own clothes from his body. He fell over you once more, his lips crashing against yours in a punishing kiss.

“I still have to ‘show’ you the rest of the story. You’ll get everything you could ever ask for. Just. Be. Patient.”

Sylus slipped his hips between your thighs once more, and you could feel the length of him resting hot and heavy against your pelvis. His mouth crashed into yours, coaxing you open so that his tongue could tangle with yours. His satisfied growl rumbled in his chest and you could feel it reverberate against you. Your knees came up to bracket his torso and you rolled your hips so that his cock slid against your folds.

You gave a self-satisfied chuckle when he moaned at the feel of you slick and ready for him. He silenced your mirth by positioning the tip at your entrance. Slow, so slow, he pushed into you. Pulled out, pushed back in. A pattern that left you brainless and trembling until he was finally sunk into you to the hilt.

“Fuck, Kitten, you feel so damn good,” he moaned against your neck. Your reply was drowned by a moan of your own when he pulled out only slightly and then slammed back into place. His cock dragged so deliciously against your walls, you could feel your climax building before he’d even done much.

He maintained that torturously slow pace, working you into a mess with his tongue and his hips. With every slow removal of his cock, he ground himself into you when pushed back in. You clenched around him automatically, as if your body didn’t want to let him leave your body.

“S-Sylus,” you whimpered into his mouth. He growled in response, his hips jerking forward.

“Again,” he said. At your sound of confusion, he added, “say my name again, Kitten.”

“Sylus,” you moaned against his neck. The sound of your desperation seemed to goad him on and he slammed into you.

“Again,” he commanded. He was getting rough, but your heart thundered with the excitement of him losing control.

“Sylus!” You cried, clinging to him as he plundered you.

“Fuck,” he grunted, his pace picking up until the lewd sounds of your bodies joining rose with the crescendo of your moans. Your nails dug into his back as the last remnants of his control snapped and he relentlessly pounded into you. His hand gripped the back of the couch, the other one biting into your hip to give him leverage.

“Sylus,” you breathed, caressing his cheek with one hand and grasping his bicep with the other. He tilted his face into your touch, moaning explicitly against your palm with his eyes clenched shut. He was lost to the sensations of your body, to the sounds you made squirming beneath him, down to the scent of your love-making mixing with woodsmoke.

You hooked your ankles together at the back of his hips and a final clench of your walls around him was enough to throw him violently over the edge. He came with a guttural moan, a shout echoing into the room before he buried his face into your neck while he kept plunging into you with involuntary jerking movements. The twitching pulse of his cock flooding you with his cum brought you to the precipice with him. Your moans joined his as you clung desperately to him, your body milking him for every last drop.

He collapsed atop you, kissing and nuzzling every inch of skin that he could reach. His lips found yours in a tender kiss before he rested his forehead against yours. His eyes bounced between yours, an emotion you could only describe as love in his crimson gaze.

“Are you sleepy now?” He questioned with a cheeky grin. A grin you wiped off his face by clenching your walls on him. His cock twitched in anticipation inside you.

“Not in the least bit,” you replied, dragging his face back to yours.

As the night progressed, the two of you eventually made it to his bed, where you proceeded to explore each other further. You definitely did not get any sleep until the sun peeked over the distant mountains.

There was no way you’d be able to wake up in time to pick strawberries, even if they were in season.

[shy-writer-999]

Ice skating with Law ❄️ (fluff)

Summary: When Law takes you on an ice skating date, he can't help but show off both his feelings for you and his skating skills. ~950 words. CW: Fluff! G/N language. Kissing. Holding hands. Sweet stuff!

Artwork by @hirakyun13 - thanks so much for collabing with me!

“Just hold on, I won’t let you fall.” Law held out a gloved hand to you and when you laced your fingers with his, he squeezed your hand in a gesture of comfort and security.

The ice was bright. Glaring sun reflected off its smooth surface, marred in places by the tracks that metal blades drew on top. The ice rink was empty except the two of you, the clearing in the forest was gorgeous and quiet, the sky was bright blue—it was picturesque, dream-like.

As Law guided you across the ice, you wobbled a bit.

“You’re favoring your right foot,” Law pointed out, looking down at your form while you struggled to keep up with his already-slow pace. “Make sure to put your weight evenly on both skates and lead with both interchangeably. Good form means you can do cool stuff later.”

He smiled at your look of dismay (it was quite endearing to him). You groaned. “Aghhhh. Okay. Like this?” Your adjustment looked adequate enough to him and he nodded.

The only thing audible after a while was the smooth sound of your skates moving almost in tandem with each other, cutting the surface of the icy rink.

“You’ve been skating since you were a kid, right?” You asked Law and he nodded.

“Yeah, I went when I was growing up a lot with my parents and sister but… After… Well, you know. Certain circumstances meant I didn’t make a habit of it for a long time. It was only when the Heart Pirates formed and got more comfortable in the North Blue sea that we had time and safety to do that sort of stuff. To have fun, I mean.”

Some silence passed. Comfortable silence. You slipped and almost fell, but Law held you up. As you looked up at him, he cracked a smile.

“See? You’ll get the hang of it eventually.”

You blushed. It had been a minute since your faces were this close. When you were back to skating after your almost-wipeout, you felt steadier and more confident.

“There you go,” Law encouraged. “You’re getting the hang of it. That was fast.”

A few laps around the rink with Law holding you steady and he decided you’d be set to try it on your own. “I’m going to make you do it yourself now. You ready?”

When you agreed, you skated side by side for a while. It was a gorgeous day and every ray of sun that reflected off the ice surface of the rink and onto his face made your heart flip. He was so handsome it was mind boggling. When light filtered onto his hair, you saw how rich the color of those dark locks was. Multi-dimensional and stunning. Just like his eyes. And while you quietly remarked on his beauty to yourself, he did the same for you.

“You can do cool tricks, right?” You asked him playfully after a while.

“You’re not going to actually make me do some, are you?” Law responded, frowning. He hated this sort of thing. He felt like a clown. But… if you were asking, then he’d have to oblige. Anything for you.

He begrudgingly put on a little show. He was obviously comfortable on the ice, skating backwards for a bit before doing some sort of cool twisting thing. A jump and a fast turn. It was impressive.

“Woooowwwwww,” you clapped when he came to a stop next to you. “That was crazy impressive. What else can you do?”

You smiled at him, and he froze for a second, turning crimson. You saw his gears turning.

“How about this?” Law asked, then reached for your hand and softly pulled you towards him. When you were close enough, he placed a hand on your waist and pulled you into a kiss.

He certainly caught you by surprise. It had been a while since you locked lips—circumstantially, you didn’t have much time for it on the ship.

Any opportunity for affection or quality time was treasured. Ice skating like this and taking a break from everything on the sea felt like a vacation, a reprieve from every painful wound you both held. If you thought about it long enough, you would have realized that this was the first actual date Law had taken you on.

When he pulled away from the kiss, you were both smiling. “I mean, that wasn’t what I had in mind, but I’m not complaining,” you giggled.

“Well, if you’re not complaining then, by all means,” Law brought a hand to your cheek and guided his lips to yours again.

His kisses were delicate. After a few moments, he pulled away. His cheeks were dusted pink with blush and his hand stayed on your cheek for a minute as he took in the sight of your face, so pretty and so close to him.

“Let’s take a break,” Law said. “That sound okay?”

When you agreed and exited the skating rink, Law set up a place for you to sit together. A waterproof blanket below, a fuzzy blanket on top, thermoses of spiked, piping-hot cocoa, and some snacks.

You snacked together and warmed yourself to the bone with the hot cocoa. It was a picture-perfect set up, thoughtful and considerate just like Law himself. After more skating and a snowy trek back to the Polar Tang, the crew couldn’t contain their excitement seeing you and the captain hand in hand with ruddy cheeks. They had matchmaked for far too long—now that it was a reality, they were elated.

They welcomed you back on board the submarine with the most embarrassing and raucous round of cheers and chanted “kiss! kiss! kiss!” to rub it in your faces. You did, in fact, share a kiss in front of the crew, something that they never let you live down. You didn’t mind it all that much, though.

that's all for this one!! make sure to check out becca's page, since she's so damn talented it isn't fair - @hirakyun13!

here's my masterlist if you're interested, and the masterlist for this holiday event. tysm for reading :3

[kammazi]

★ katsuki and yourself weren’t big drinkers. sure after you two had graduated, you had gone to a few parties here and there but you were never a fan of the whole spinning dizzy feeling that alcohol brought with it, especially since you two are heroes. patrolling while hungover under the heat of the hot summer sun was dreadful.

so when you get a call from katsuki one evening while you were on patrol saying how kirishimas and the rest of the guys were going out for a few, who were you to say no? even though you knew the invitation for yourself always stood, katsuki needed some time for himself and by the time you would get off patrol it would already be past midnight.

so after exchanging some ‘i love you’s’, you disconnected the call and got back to whatever strolling you were doing.

and as the night went on you got more and more notifications that buzzed in your back pocket from who you assumed was your boyfriend. you eventually had a quick break and chugged an energy drink while fishing for your phone.

you let out a snort of laughter and looked around to make sure no one heard you before looking back down at your screen. there you saw multiple pictures took by denki of him standing on what you assumed was a stool while taking 0.5 picture’s of katsuki. what made you laugh even more was his flushed face and droopy eyes that held no fight in them as he stood there with his hands by his sides.

you could tell that he had drank quite a bit and as your break came to an end you had a short two hours left of your shift before you were able to finally get home and most likely take care of your said boyfriend.

and you were correct because as soon as you even such as stepped in through the doors of your shared apartment your phone once again started buzzing, this time it was a call.

“hello?” there was a shuffling noise before shouting hit your eardrums along with the music that blasted in the background.

“HEYY LOOK, ARE YOU-” you grimaced as you hear a glass breaking alongside some yelling. “huh? hello?”

the phone was picked back up. “THIS IS KIRISHIMA, KATSUKI IS KINDA REALLY DRUNK AND-” you then heard a whooshing sound and another crash. you stood there looking at your phone and then brining it close to your ear again. “uhh..kiri..shima?”

you heard the phone being picked up and panting into the microphone. “SORRY I JUST LAUNCHED MY PHONE HALFWAY ACROSS THE DANCE FLOOR AND IT HIT SOMEONE IN THE FACE.” you had to physically distance yourself from the phone before answering.

“kiri you don’t have to yell i can hear you!” you felt as if it was a screaming competition at that point. you heard a cackle before kirishimas finally got to the point.

“sorry, sorry! it’s just that bakubro got hella drunk and he’s kinda unmovable right now. he keeps saying your name and won’t really listen to anyone, would it be alright if you could come and pick him up?”

you were already picking up your keys and sliding on your shoes. “of course, be there in five.”

and so here you were pulling into the parking spot outside of the front doors of the building.

as you stepped in, you already felt exhaustion hitting you as you strolled around to try and find your boyfriend and those goons.

and then you saw him, sitting in a corner seat, with a cute sleepy look on his face, arms still crossed as always. kneeling in front of him, you saw denki, sero and kiri sitting across as they helped gather his stuff. you placed a palm against his face and patted his knee with the other.

“kats, love?” he groaned and slightly opened his eyes. “hey i’m gonna take you home okay?” and then suddenly, he moves his face away from your hand as his face held something like a mix of disgust and offence.

“get those damn hands away from me. i’ve a girlfriend.” although his speech was slurred you blinked before letting out a chuckle as the guys behind you hollered and stumbled over eachother.

you raised a brow, amused to see him act that way. “oh really? sorry about that kats, i won’t do it again.” his face whipped around to face you as he grimaced again. “oi. don’t call me that. only she can and you ain’t her.. so back off...” his sentence held no malicious intent as his head slowly tipped back. “where is she. i miss her.”

kirishima then came up next to you and patted his back. “bro shes right here! see?” in response to his words, katsuki raised his head and squinted at you for a while before slowly smiling. “heyy it’s my girlfriend.” immediately his head landed on your shoulder. he started babbling as he wrapped his arms around your frame, almost knocking you to the floor from the sudden weight. in the meantime, you glanced at his red headed friend.

“i’m sorry how much did he drink?” in response he scratched the back of his neck before holding up three fingers. “JESUS KIRI THREE BOTTLES?” kirishimas shook his head before cackling. “three drinks.”

now you knew your boyfriend was a lightweight but this was a tad too funny to you, not that you would ever tell him.. obviously.

with the help of kirishima, you managed to walk out a stumbling katsuki and just about sat him in the passenger seat before strapping him in as he babbled on about how much he missed you. sero and denki handed over his wallet and phone to you and you thanked them before saying your goodbyes as you sat behind the wheel.

on the drive back katsuki acted like he hadn’t seen you in months by the way he held your hand and kissed it every two seconds. with him telling you how much he loved you and how beautiful you where. in that moment you could not only feel somewhat giddy but be thankful for having this man in your life. no matter how tough he looked or acted, it really was true that he was a softy, drunk or not.

after arriving, getting him into bed wasn’t even a problem. he listened to your every word as he clung to you like a koala. you helped him brush his teeth on the toilet seat as you sat on his lap. even while drunk, his grip was still firm but gentle.

you then got him changed, him getting stuck in his t-shirt a few times, and you both finally climbed into bed. there was pure silence other that his quiet snores as he rested on your chest. as expected, he ended up passing out the second he wrapped his arms around you.

as you pressed a kiss on his forehead, you could once again feel the wave of exhaustion crashing over you as the warm pressure of katsuki’s body lulled you to sleep.

and in the morning katsuki awoke with not only a headache but also a lovely picture of his drunken state as a 0.5 printed and framed photo hanging in the living room as a forever reminder of that night.

[cocoamide]

YOU'RE MY WISHLIST! ♡

⟡ synopsis ─ gojo satoru's the man who seems to be everywhere you go, whether it be within the comfort of your own home or miles away from the place. well, guess what happens when you show up looking a little too fine at your college's annual christmas eve party?

꣑ৎ content ─ MDNI, brother'sbsf!satoru / collegesenior!satoru x afab!reader, reader is suguru's younger sister, no use of y/n, reader can't escape him, suggestive content, reader is in love w/ gojo (and vice versa), intentional use of lowercase, usage of pet names e.g baby, pretty, good girl, etc., smut in the form of fingering, and probably more idk

◖word count — 2.6k

☆ credits ─ live laugh love @anitalenia 4 the gorgeous divider <3 no specific inspiration for this fic, just felt like writing one fueled by my christmas spirit (i have never celebrated christmas in my life, so if u caught me lacking, no u didn't!)

꩜ author's note ─ first fic ever & ofc it's ft. my man !! i'm not v satisfied with this work and it was really rushed towards the end, so feedback is much appreciated :3 merry xmas to all those celebrating and happy holidays ♡ title's from "a nonsense christmas" by sabrina carpenter :3

when you left home for college, you were certain you’d outrun the real-life horrors of your past— your parents' scoldings, the shitty food served at your school's cafeteria, the fake people you were surrounded by, and most importantly, your brother's best friend, gojo satoru, who just seemed to get finer with every single passing day.

the man was, for some reason, genetically white-haired all over. yeah, he had albinism, but god, the sight of him was no less than breath-taking. his sparkling, cerulean orbs, which glowed mesmerizingly both under the moonlight and the sun, seemed more and more enchanting with each passing moment. as the years went by with him by your brother's side, you told yourself to look away, refusing to acknowledge the feelings that flickered inside whenever you saw him. you did whatever you could to let go of them— tried to distract yourself with the shittiest of boyfriends, avoided him at school, locked yourself up in your room whenever he came over to hang out with your brother, you name it.

however, it seemed that luck hated, no, despised your embrace no matter how much you yearned for it, considering how the menace was always hovering around, inserting himself into your life at the most inconvenient moments. you're rehearsing for a school play in an empty classroom? the next thing you know, he has an arm propped around your shoulder and smiling at you in the most stupidly handsome way ever with a lollipop in his mouth as he asks you to just... practice with him around. oh, you're trying to get him off of you now? he'll steal your script before you can escape him and raise his hand up as high in the air as possible so you can't reach it. "hey, give it back!" you exclaim, only to be met by a smug smirk on his face and the most annoying "nuh-uh." he completely refuses unless you promise to not kick him out until the practice session is over.

you're walking back home with your brother, suguru? oops, gojo is there too! he's ruffling your hair no matter how pissed you get and yell at him; he only finds joy and pleasure in seeing you in this enraged state. whether he was a sadist, masochist, or simply insane, you did not know.

so, starting college felt like stepping into freedom. no more conversations centered around satoru, no more being so pissed you lose your voice from screaming, and no more late-night sob sessions everytime he got a new girlfriend.

however, it seemed that you'd forgotten that the stars didn't quite align for you, and the universe had decided to remind you of that very fact by ensuring that satoru received enough distinctions to be able to transfer universities. oh, and of course, the one he'd chosen just had to be the one you'd decided to spend the next 4 years of your life in. it wasn't until after you’d moved into your dorm and started your classes that you found out.

the first time you saw him around campus, you were freaked the fuck out. nevertheless, you simply assumed he was visiting a friend or relative and dismissed the sight.

however, much to your dismay, you discovered that he was, in fact, a senior at your college—a 2nd year, to be exact. it wouldn't be an understatement to assume you nearly had a heart attack when you found out, considering how this was the same guy who used to have a 2.6 gpa back in high school. when did he even start taking his studies seriously and lock in hard enough to meet the criteria and eligibility for your university, one of the most prestigious in the entire country? instead of rooting for you, fate just had to be your biggest hater.

every single time you saw him around, gojo would come up to you to exchange greetings and obviously, tease you about the most embarrassing things from your past while his obnoxious fangirls stared you the fuck down, wondering why he's so close to you even though you're just a freshman who should have nothing to do with him.

what surprised you more, however, was that you sometimes shared the same sentiment as them because you were definitely never this close with satoru. not in all the years your brother used to hang out with him, or all the times you'd seen each other on family dinners. sure, he'd teased you plenty, but he had no real concern or curiosity towards you. you found him walking you to classes, treating you to coffee and meals, buying you all the snacks you could ever need during exam preparations and so much more that you could never even list down.

and worst of all, the feelings you'd so desperately pushed away in the past had now creeped their way back into your heart and embedded every inch of your soul even deeper.

it struck you then—satoru’s actions might not be out of pure obligation. that would’ve been far too simple, too detached for someone like satoru. maybe, just maybe, there was something more to it, something unspoken lingering beneath it all. you couldn’t say for sure if it was intentional or not, but whatever it was, it felt personal, like you mattered in a way that went beyond the promises he'd made to your elder brother and family.

but still, you couldn’t help but wonder if it was all just in your head. satoru’s actions, the way he treated you—it didn’t necessarily mean what you thought it did. it could be nothing—satoru’s actions didn’t have to mean anything. maybe you were just fooling yourself, letting your feelings cloud your judgment. so, you buried them as deep as you could, pushing them aside, telling yourself that letting go was the only way to protect yourself from the uncertainty. it was easier to convince yourself that you were just being delusional instead of facing what could be very real.

although, you do seriously question your latter supposition at your annual college christmas eve party when satoru, dressed in the sexiest 3-piece navy blue pinstripe suit with a black tie, has you pinned against the door of the nearest bathroom. if haven't had the opportunity to pay enough attention to his luminous, cerulean eyes up until now, you do at this very moment when he's staring at you like a predator would at it's prey.

"satoru," you let out a breath you weren't aware of holding, "what are you doing?" gojo, whose gaze had shifted down to your lips, let out a chuckle. "oh, so it's satoru now," he murmured, his hand pushing your hair behind your ear. "fine, 'toru..," you pronounce, going back to the nickname you'd started calling him during the while you'd spent with him. "that's more like it." his eyes meet yours again, conveying the desire and thirst that stirred within him— for how long, nobody knows.

the air around you two was thicker than usual, laced with tension as well as something… else. "you still haven't answered my question." upon your words, the white-haired man's face broke out into a cupid-induced smile, the most beautiful you'd ever seen. "well," his right thumb traced the outline of your lips so light as if you'd break from further pressure, "i thought you looked beautiful." what he says renders you speechless, your throat gone dry and your cheeks turning the prettiest shade of rose (in his eyes, at least.) "you always do, but even more so today." and if you weren't already a flustered mess, you would most certainly be now.

your reaction only draws a smirk on his face, and he decides to tease you a little more. "so, on that note, what do you think i'm doing?," his voice lowers as his hand traces its way down to your neck. "i... uh- i don't know... you tell me." satoru grins, only wanting to push you further.

"yeah? how about i show you instead?" and a mere instant later, his lips come crashing down on yours— you couldn't say you hadn't been expecting or anticipating it, but absolutely nothing could prepare you for the way his warm and impossibly soft lips felt against yours. initially, you froze, and you came to realise that all the possibilities you'd once ignored were now very much real.

it wasn't a bad thing— no, nowhere near it, maybe even one of the best that could ever happen to you. however, it did feel like too much of a development to be able to process in a matter of seconds.

upon the realisation that you hadn't responded to his advances, satoru pulled back from the kiss, seeming rather puzzled. "was i wrong?" he inquires, voice lower and deeper than it normally would be.

the melodic sound of his voice is what breaks your trance and serves as your call back to reality. you wanted to say no, reach for his collar, get on your tip-toes and lean in to kiss him, but you were stuck in place. you couldn't find your voice or your words, and it felt like your heels were superglued to the tiles of the bathroom floor.

if it hadn't already been obvious, you'd been yearning for this moment for god knows how long, and now that it was handed to you on a sliver platter, you couldn't simply pass up on it. being well aware of the fact that this encounter could change your and satoru's relationship for either the better or the worse, you took a deep breath, cupped the sides of his face, and tilted your head just enough to be able to kiss the man. your hands gripped the fabric of his shirt in an attempt to pull him even closer, if that was possible.

being the way he is, satoru smiled into the kiss and lowered his hands to your hips. he could tell you were pouring each and every emotion from both the past and the present, and of course, he was doing the same.

it was inevitable, really— now that you could feel his skin against yours, it wasn't too difficult to put the pieces together and figure out that this was all bound to happen, already having been inked into the wondrous book of fate.

and so, for the first time in all the years you'd spent alongside satoru, you could say that the universe was, in fact, rooting for you. the way gojo's lips moved against yours, the way he looked at you like you were the only person in the world when he pulled away, the way the both of you heavily panted but still chased each other's warmth again barely seconds later, are more than enough confirmation.

"no, you weren't," you reply, feeling giddier than you ever had. "i wasn't what?" his hands caress your cheek with a carefulness that was almost unlike him, and your heart felt like it was about to beat out of your chest (in the best way possible.) "you weren't wrong."

"and i'm still not wrong if i do this?" his large hand reached under your clothes and wandered up to your waist, resting over the skin of the region. "or this?" his mouth had reached your neck, leaving kisses-turned-bites all over, which were sure to transform into hickeys.

"no... no, you're not," you let out breathlessly, unable to escape the fire coursing through your veins at the slightest touch. you wanted more, so much more, and satoru was the only one who could fulfil your needs— not that you would have it any other way.

"you sure, pretty?" the corner of his mouth went up, resulting in a lopsided grin— he was obviously teasing you, that was just the way he was and always had been.

"uh-huh," you nod to reaffirm your statement. "good girl," he breathes out, only contributing to the echoes in the parts of your body which ached for him so badly.

his long fingers played and toyed with the hem of your dress, as if to test the waters. when you didn't resist, his hand sneaked up your thigh, gently fondling the skin.

despite the confidence in his actions, he observed every expression on your face cautiously, ensuring that nothing he did hurt you or made you uncomfortable in any way. when you show no signs on unease but instead only desire, he goes on to satisfy and soothe your needs.

his fingers traced their way up your inner thighs and lurked over the already soaked fabric of your underwear, bringing about a chuckle from satoru. "so needy for me already, hm?" he remarks, as if his own pants weren't tightening upon the observation.

"shut up, 'toru..." you're trying to regain your composure and keep up an attitude, but to no avail. the fact that he has you exactly where he wants you isn't helping, either. you're even trying to avoid his gaze, but the way you can feel his presence everywhere makes it impossible to do so— besides, he's making you face him again using his index finger and thumb to hold your chin in between, as he whispers out a "look at me, baby."

and when you do, you have to let out a gasp at the sight of him— his disheveled hair which was perfectly tamed at the start of the night, his half-lidded eyes as he looks at you like you're his entire world and his lips that are now slightly bruised and swollen from the kisses you've shared. it was beyond enough to get you all the more hot and bothered.

oh, but that's not the only factor contributing to the sounds you're making— it's also the way he's pulled your panties to the side and is currently tracing your slit ever so slowly. "want more, princess?" nearly mocking tone.

you hardly even manage to let out a hum before his slender fingers are running over the most sensitive bundle of nerves, eliciting a moan from you. your eyes roll all the way back when one of his digits slides inside you just a moment later— you'd never been this sensitive, but it seems that was going to be entirely different with satoru.

he added one after the other, and now, three of his freakishly large fingers were pumping in and out of you relentlessly— he was so good with them, you could practically taste your orgasm about to wash over you.

"'m close, satoru," you whimper out almost pathetically, and his fingers are going even deeper now, hitting the spots you'd never even dreamt of reaching on your own. "yeah? is my princess gonna cum for me?" his voice is rough and he's groaning as if he's the one receiving the pleasure.

you can only nod as your arousal overwhelms you, white ropes of cum spurting out from your throbbing hole with one final thrust of his fingers. his entire hand was covered in your fluids, which he brought up to his mouth to be able to savor the sweetness of your juices on his tongue. god, he was an obsessed freak when it came to you.

"ew, satoru! why would you do that?" you hold back a giggle, expressing faux disgust at his actions. he only kisses you in response instead of using his words, making sure you get to taste what he'd drawn out of you as well.

"you think suguru's gonna be mad?" he asks, obviously amused at the idea of your brother enraged when he finds out what you and satoru have done. "oh yeah, definitely." he sweetly presses yet another kiss to your lips.

"if it's at the expense of me getting everything i wished for, i don't care, babe."

@cuntphoric :33

[moody-alcoholic]

On a Wing and a Prayer

Part 7 - Well This Is Awkward

CW: Angst, mention's of alcohol, mentions of panic attack's, mental health, mentions of injuries, mentions of death.

Did I mention I like medical dramas?

Previous parts - masterlist - next

Your therapist is nice. You’ve been going to her for the past 3 months, you were only supposed to go for a single session. Then the army insisted on more. Johnny was sent home on medical leave a few days after you left. He came to see you and stayed the night. 

The next morning you had to tell him to leave, it just wasn’t the same. 

‘I’ll be staying at the house if you want to visit?’ 

Shit, you forgot about the house. The place you all pitched in to buy, so you all had somewhere to stay when you were on leave. Everyone’s flats are too small to accommodate all 5 of you. Besides, flat hopping everyday across London was expensive. 

‘I’ll talk to John when he’s back.’ All you want back is the deposit. 

“Do you feel guilty?” She asks you. It snaps you out of your thoughts and you turn to look at her. 

“No.” You say, she hums. You hate it when she does that. You don’t know why it is a particularly tough session. You just want to go home. “They hurt me. I don't feel guilty about that.” 

“You left the unit though.” Bitch. “It’s okay to feel guilty about that.” 

“Okay fine. I feel guilty about leaving Johnny and Kyle.” You snap back. Anything to get her to sign you off so you can go. You look up at the clock, you still have at least 40 minutes left in this season. 

“Have you got your letter from the university yet?” She asks changing the subject. You nod. After a few weeks of crying on the bathroom floor and drowning yourself in bottles of vodka you decided to get your shit together. 

“That’s good, what's the plan going forward?” 

“I’ll be posted on a base somewhere where I can get hands-on experience in trauma care. With studying on the side.” You say without going too much into the complications. 

“So the army is actively helping you, that's good.”  

“Yeah I think they’re willing to do anything so long as I don’t sue them.” You scoff under your breath. She hums.

You don’t know how true that is, maybe it’s just something you tell yourself so you don’t feel so conflicted over how accommodating they’ve been. They’re paying your uni bills and even got you one some army teaching program aimed to fast track you through the ranks. 

“What about Kyle and Johnny? Have you heard from them since you spoke to them last?” Fucking bitch. You sigh, turning away from her. The last time you spoke to them was almost a month ago. They text you from time to time, try to call you. 

You’ve ignored them, so much that you feel like anything you say to them will just be meaningless. 

“Yeah, they’re deployed.” You lie. She smiles. You look back up at the clock. 

30 minutes to go.

______________________

Iraq is hot. That you expected but the hospital’s electricity is sketchy at best. You have to keep the air-con off to make sure the ventilators don’t cut out. The US built this place, you’re only supposed to be here for another week at least before you’ll move again. 

As soon as the electric is fixed it will be handed over to the UN to run, until then it was getting a dry run as a combat hospital. Lots of blown off limbs and bullets to pull out people. Lots of death. 

You told Johnny and Kyle where you were going when you got your placement. You’re trying to patch things up with them after basically leaving them on read for almost 3 months. Your therapist said it would be a good thing to do. 

The sun is setting, you're sitting outside watching as it touches the top of the distant mountains. The place is busy, friendly forces are still pretty much living here. It’s the only safe zone in this part of the desert, why the UN wanted a hospital out here you’ll never know. 

Something about re-urbanisation of previously controlled territories. You don’t care, you're here to pull bullets out of people and save lives. Other than your mentor-Dr. Sands-you’re the only other doctor on the base. Doctor is a loose term, you’re technically still a student, but you ace all your skills labs, and the army is begging for help apparently. 

You let out a breath, finishing the rest of your drink and getting up and pulling your white lab coat on. 

“Well, fancy seeing you ‘ere.” You hear a familiar thick accent behind you. You turn to see Johnny standing behind you. 

What the fuck.

You’re hugging him before you can stop yourself. You see Kyle, John and Simon stood behind him. They’re all geared up, weapons slung over their chest or back. 

You thought you would feel something when you saw them. Maybe you'd want to run, scream, cry, anything. You feel nothing, just numbness.

“What are you doing here?” You ask.

“Oh you know, Shepherd says jump, we say how high.” he says nudging you, it makes you smile and you shake your head. 

“Finally going for the MD?” He asks, pointing at the student doctor tag on your coat. 

“Yeah well, you like putting bullets in people. I like pulling them out.” 

“Oh yeah not even the occasional love tap?” He jokes, throwing his arm around your shoulders.

“Only the bad guys.” You reply. You look up at Kyle who’s smiling. Then John and Simon. 

“You look good.” John says. 

“Yeah well that’s what 6 months of therapy will do to you.” It’s bitter, harsher than you expected it to be. It’s the first time you’ve spoken to him in 6 maybe 7 months. He hasn’t changed a bit. He still smiles at you, his body language open, his hands on his hips. 

Simon stands with his arms crossed, his presence is looming, making hairs stand up on the back of your neck. 

“It’s good to see you again.” Kyle says, you nod at him. 

“Oh when we’re back we should catch a bite to eat.” Johnny says enthusiastically, moving away over to Kyle. 

“You can tell us what to avoid in the mess.” Kyle adds. You smile again. You go to open your mouth but your pager beeps. You look down at it. It’s the doctor. 

“Yeah, when you’re back, come find me.” You say turning into the building. 

“Stay safe!” Johnny calls.

“Yeah you too!” You call back pulling your radio off your hip. When you make it through the door you squeeze your eyes closed for a second and let out a long breath. 

Now you hate this hospital even more. 

______________________

It’s dark out now. You look over at the clock and it's almost midnight. You’re sat at the nurses station listening to them talk about whatever drama is going on in the next base. You still can’t believe you ended up in the same base as 141. 

They’ll be gone soon, even Johnny seemed surprised, maybe he thought you’d be gone by now. Now you have to eat with them at some point. Johnny and Kyle at least.

The doctor left an hour ago to go to another base for a surgery. You’re used to this taking the night shifts. Normally you just sleep and get woken up a few times for the nurses to ask for medication changes. You’ve only ever had one trauma come in at night and the doctor was there to help you with the limited night time staff. 

You tried to sleep but you couldn’t, you were restless trying to think about what they were doing here? Who were they after? How long would they be here? At least at the nurses station you can listen to the nurses and let their gossip distract you. 

The red trauma phone rings. For a second you think it’s a joke, it’s the normal phone. Nope, the red light is flashing on it. You stand up picking it up. 

“Trauma.” You say.

“Got one incoming, ETA 15 minutes. GSW to the chest, breathing unconscious. 30 year old male.” You hear an American voice say as you write it down. You don’t have time to worry or be nervous. This is what you live for, you let the adrenaline pump through you. It clears your mind as you take down the information. 

“Copy, what’s the name?” 

“Riley.” Your heart stops.

“Say again?”

“Riley, Simon Riley.”  

It feels like all the air has been sucked out of your lungs. You’re squeezing the phone in your hand, the pen has fallen to the floor. You look over at the nurses already pulling gowns on and getting into position in the resus bay. 

You don’t even register saying copy and putting the phone back. You turn away from the nurses braising yourself on a filing cabernet. 

Simon’s shot. All you can see is his face, his body covered in blood. He’s always so careful, he’s always the one dragging people out the field not getting shot. Something must have gone horribly wrong. 

You weren't there. He’s shot and you weren't there to save him. 

You suck in breaths of air, the adrenaline isn’t helping now. 

“Doctor?” You hear one of the nurses call. You turn to look at them, you have to keep it together. 

“Page the doctor.”

Banners by firefly-graphics

[cmdrfupa]

Dating toji was the best decision you’d made in the last few months. Slow pace, genuine connection and a hot man who looks like he eats bricks for lunch. Operation: First Overnight Stay is underway. And apparently so is the first snow storm of the season.

cn: Toji. Toji being hot. Toji being himself (he’s soft yanno).

The snow started much earlier that you expected, the kind of lazy, drifting flakes that almost whispered promises of an impending storm. You hadn’t thought much of it at first, snow wasn’t known for sticking around you so you figured it’d be gone by morning.

By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, however, the snow was coming down in thick sheets. And while the news app on your phone should’ve been buzzing with a winter storm advisory it was hushed while iMessage, Instagram, discord and the few noti’s on from tumbler had top priority.

“Where the hell is this man?” You glanced out the window, streetlights emanating their soft golden glow over the accumulating snow. It was peaceful ­ quiet in a way you didn’t often get to experience in the city. But tonight was not suppose to be about quiet. It was suppose to be your first over night with Toji staying at your place. A sleepover date if you will. Or what you loved to start calling Toji Time.

You’d spent the entirety of the afternoon nervously preparing from tidying up your bedroom, lighting a couple of your good candles in the living room, and even debating whether to pull out the joy cons to beat his ass in a few games.

It wasn’t feeling like just another date. You invited the man over to your house, it was the start of something more consistent. And now with a heavy snow fall, you couldn’t help but wonder if anything about the evening ahead would go anything like you planned.

A sharp knock broke your thoughts and you hurried to open the door. Toji stood there leaning casually against the doorframe with grocery bags in one hand and a duffel bag slung over his other shoulder.

Snow dusted his hair and the shoulders of his coat. He gave that usual cocky smirk that was always firmly in place.

“You weren’t gonna let me freeze out there, were ya?” he asked, leaning in to plant a small kiss on the top of your head.

“You’re late.” you moved out of the way and he stepped inside.” “And whats with the groceries?”

“Storms coming.” he replied, sitting the bags down before shaking his jacket off. “The roads were already looking dicey so I took my time. And I figured you’d forget to stock up.”

You stared at him, incredulous. “You knew there was a storm coming?”

He raised and eyebrow, reaching into one of the bags and pulling out a roast. “You didn’t?”

Of course you didn’t. Why would you check the weather when your plans for the evening involved nothing more than a quiet dinner and, maybe, the two of you falling asleep on the couch after watching the first half of the third Lethal Weapon movie.

But now, as you watched him unpack bread, popcorn, fresh veggies, pasta, snacks that could feed 20 and even a twelve-pack of beer. It started to dawn on you that tonight was in fact not going to go as planned.

“So you planned on getting snowed in here?” you crossed your arms then made your way across the room.

Amused, Toji shot you a look. “Got a better idea? Roads are a mess already and the storm part is about to really kick. And besides,” he added, a grinch like grin spreading across his face. “This doesn’t feel like a complaint but more like a subtle nod of approval.”

With a sigh, you resisted the urge to throw something at him before cracking a smile. “You will have duties.

“Of course.”

“You’ll have to cook if it ends up being more than a day or so. And clean your pee off the seat.”

Toji came up to you and wrapped his arm around your waist. “I’m no slob. Piss belongs in the bowl and I lift the seat. Have some faith in the man you’re dating.”

“Uh huh..” you squinted at him. “Treat my home like a pig sty and you're sleeping out in that ball freezing cold, Fushiguro.” your finger felt like it hit a brick wall as you poked his chest.

He chuckled, low and rumbling, as he leaned in to kiss your cheek. “Whatever you say, ma’am.”

You both settled into the evening. Date night not going exactly as planned but made the best of it despite passing out only an hour into the second Lethal Weapon movie.

As the night stretched on and the snowstorm did indeed worsen with each passing hour, the atmosphere was all that you hoped.

It felt less empty, more warm and far more cozy. You began to wonder if being snowed in together might not be the worst thing after all.

______

The smell of coffee, the sound of some gruff voice singing and the lack of heat stirred you from your deep sleep om day two.

“I thought I turned the heat on last night.” The grogginess in your voice was a simple whisper as you rolled out of bed and grabbed the nearest long sleeve you could find. With a little more effort, you shuffled out of your bedroom and towards the source of your shortened sleep.

There was something making your stomach feel fluttery as you walked towards the kitchen. The closer you got, the clearer the sound of Chris Cornell’s voice became as your view became clearer: Your heat was on but the personal heater that had been keeping you warm was now shirtless in your kitchen flipping a piece of french toast.

So casual, maybe a little too comfortable with his sweatpants sitting right below his waist. His shoulders broad and slightly flexing even with as small of a movement as plating french toast then dipping another piece before.

Equal parts irritation and attraction.

“Not polite to stare, babydoll.”

You straightened up as if he could see you even with his back turned. “I didn’t know you got up this early.”

Toji turned 45 degrees, giving you just a peek at the full breakfast he’d almost finished cooking. “Not a fan of staying in bed long. At least my stomach isn't a fan” He smiled and nodded towards the coffee pot on the counter closest to you. “I remember you saying you liked that bustelo cafe stuff. I hope its strong enough.”

“You didn’t have to,” You shuffled over to the machine, seeing that a mug was already sitting out. “And the mug I use. Thank you, Toji.”

“Of course. Thought I’d at least feed you good if I’m going to be in your space for a couple days. Though,” Toji flipped the french toast over then turned to you ‘ If you want to pay me back, you can via those little crispy shits you brought to me that one day.”

You sucked in your lips, trying your best not to laugh as you poured your creamer in. “The little crispy shits are called palmiers. And I got you.”

“Palmiers. Crispy shits. Whatever, they are delicious. You know how to make a man ache and yearn with those things.” he winked before turning back, taking out the final piece of toast and plating it.

“Need any help?” you tried peeking around him to see the rest of what he had plated and he moved his shoulders to hide it.

“Aht. Sit.” Toji blocked your view but you didn’t miss his grin as he did. “I’m almost done. Just tell me how you like your eggs and we’ll be ready to eat.”

You watched him almost expertly crack the eggs open as he cooked them to your liking. Then you watched how his weight shifted from one hip to the other as he leaned against the counter.

There was something about just how his pants were sitting that made you feel a rush of heat across your neck. This man was built. A true dad bod with a slight pudge that sat atop his waist band. Stocky and plenty to climb. “Are you not cold just wearing pants?”

He sat the plate in front of you then sat his across from you. “I’m honestly a little warm. From the cooking probably.”

Toji went to pour himself some coffee, sipping the black drink and humming as he shuffled back to the table. “You were like a heater last night. Will definitely be needing that heated cuddle again tonight.”

You began to cut into your french toast, taking a bite and closing your eyes as the cinnamon and vanilla flavors mingled on your tongue. You heard Toji snicker and it brought you back. “What?”

He turned his smile downward and shook his head as he took a bite of his fried egg then bacon. “Just sounds like you enjoyed sleeping with me.” He chewed and kept his eye contact. “I enjoyed sleeping next to you also.”

You hadn’t even had sex together and this man made you feel like he had you twisted up like a pretzel last night. You cleared your throat and tried to ignore the tingly feeling that crept up your spine as you stuffed your mouth of the toast and a piece of bacon to avoid saying anything.

He began to make light conversation. Passive thoughts on the holiday market he wants to visit with you and the guys at his gym who he knocked out first round when sparring. “So now he’s probably going to try and get me banned but jokes on him, Shiu has been my guy for decades.”

The trail your eyes let from his pecs back to his face was embarrassing. Another forkful of toast and sip of coffee to hopefully keep him from saying literally anything.

“Glad to see you enjoying my cooking. My pleasure to fuel you for the day ahead.” Toji winked knowing you were practically paralyzed from his teasing. “I’ll take care of dishes pretty. Just go get warm.”

The bastard.

-----—————-

As midday rolled around, Toji opted to nap it out on the couch, which left you attempting to do the same with no success. You’d been lounging around all morning post breakfast with Toji. Cuddling and talking which left him tired but you feeling restless. So you took to old faithful pinterest, set on finding some soup ideas to surprise man the same way he did you this morning.

“Kathiew..” a cambodian beef noodle soup “Hmm.. beef bones, oxtail bones, five spice, doot doot dooooo.’ you quickly browsed over the rest of the list. “I actually have all these things?” you got up and went to your freezer, pulling out the meats then to your fridge to pull out the vegetables not looking at the spices as you knew you had them.

“Well shit. I do have everything.” You wasted no time prepping your ingredients. Cleaning the bones, charring the vegetables and getting everything on a low boil as you added your five spice, rock sugar other flavors to the large pot.

You weren’t use to cooking so much, it was just you and had been you for quite awhile, unless you were cooking for your coworkers. And this recipe was honestly a bit of a larger bite than your usual pinterest picks, but it felt well worth it. You were taking this whole dating thing seriously and he had an appetite.

“Maybe it is the way to the heart.” You teased yourself at the stride of cooking for a man you’d been dating for almost 5 months and the furthest you’d gone was twirling your tongue around each others like two teenagers. But you liked taking it this slow. It’s how you liked your fics and it was proving to be a great for your own love life.

The soup would take almost all day so you decided on an easy baking venture of palmiers and a small banana bread loaf.

Mid cookie forming and the sound of a bears yawn caught your ear. “Babydoll? You get tired of me and drift off into the snow?” his grog laced voice sent a warm trickle down your back as he shuffled into the kitchen. He took you in starting with the sway of your hips then your eyes as you peered over your shoulder to him.

“In here making your little crispy shits.” you picked up another small piece of dough, rolling it into the palm leaf shape and placed it on the cookie sheet.

“Oooo. And you’ve got them a little larger. They look good.”

“Mhm.”

Toji wrapped an arm around your waist and gently pushed into you as he placed a small kiss at the crown of your head. “And whatever you’re cooking smells absolutely delicious. You’ve been busy, girl.”

You shook your head and smiled. “You’ve also been asleep for 5 hours. Needed to occupy my time with something so I tried out a new recipe. A beef noodle soup called Kathiew. Looks very promising.”

The atmosphere should have been perfect, cozy and intimate, but his offhand remark shattered the fragile balance as you went to place the first batch of palmiers in the oven.

“Didn’t realize this snowstorm was an excuse to play house,” he said, his tone teasing but his words sharp enough to sting. “Top contender with doing all this.”

You froze mid-step, turning to look at him. His expression was unreadable, but the comment landed squarely on a nerve you hadn’t realized was exposed. The evening was supposed to be special, a milestone in your relationship. Instead, it felt like he was brushing it off as something trivial.

“If that’s how you see it,” you said, your voice quieter than usual, “then why are you even here?”

Toji’s smirk faltered, replaced by a flicker of confusion. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, straightening up slightly. “You’re the one making a big deal out of nothing.”

“Nothing?” you echoed, incredulous. You placed the sheet you were holding onto the table with more force than necessary, the clatter cutting through the silence. “Do you know how much I thought about you staying over here? How much I wanted this to be a nice next step in whatever this is to you?”

“And it is nice. More than,” he said, his tone edging toward defensiveness. “You’re getting worked up over a joke. I didn’t mean anything by it. Just relax.”

“That’s the problem,” you shot back, crossing your arms. “You never mean anything by it. So what am I supposed to think? That you just show up because you’ve got nothing better to do or you didn’t want to be snowed in all alone and pitiful? To play house with a woman.”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. The weight of your words hung in the air, heavy and unyielding. You could see the gears turning in his head, the way his fingers flexed as though he was trying to figure out what to say. But Toji wasn’t someone who dealt in words; he dealt in actions. And actions, you realized, weren’t enough for you right now.

You looked at him for a moment as you cleaned off your hands. “I need a few minutes to myself.” you mumble before walking past him, leaving him at a loss of what to say and do.

“Shit. Babe wait,” he didn’t reach for you, instead following close behind as you walked hastily to your bedroom. “That isn’t.. just wait.”

“I need time alone. Please.” you quickly closed the bedroom door in his face and tried to make sense of what exactly made you respond this way. Top contender? Was he just playing you? Feeding you all this nonsense on being so into you only to play house?

“Fuck fuck.” Toji stared at the door for a moment, unsure how he was suppose to recover from this. He knew he fucked up big. “Top contender? There isn’t even another one, the fuck was I saying?” He whispered to himself, heavy hands dragging down his face as he took a step back, sliding down the wall until he sat on the floor.

It’s quiet in the apartment, save for the soft hum of the heater and the occasional whistle of the wind outside After what felt like an eternity, Toji let out a slow breath and ran a hand through his hair. “Look,” he started, his voice quieter now, less defensive. “I’m not good at this stuff, alright? But if I didn’t care, I wouldn’t be here. You think I’m buying groceries for everybody? Cooking breakfast for just any woman? You are literally the only contender, the one contender I want and need.”

The unexpected vulnerability in his words caught you off guard. For all his bravado and sarcasm, this was Toji’s way of admitting something deeper, even if he couldn’t say it outright.

“You’re serious?” you asked, your voice softening.

He gave you a look, part exasperation, part something else—something gentler, as if you could see him through the door.. “Do I look like the kind of guy who’d stick around in a storm if I wasn’t?”

You let out a small laugh despite yourself, shaking your head. “I just... I don’t want to feel like I’m the only one trying, you know?”

Toji’s expression shifted, his usual cocky smirk replaced by something more genuine. He stood up and moved closer to the door. “You’re not,” he said simply. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

The words weren’t grand or poetic, but coming from him, they meant more than anything else he could have said. You nodded, the knot in your chest loosening as you realized he was trying—in his own way, he was trying. You slowly opened the door and looked up to see the softened gaze in his eyes.

Your lips twitched into a reluctant smile, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly as you stepped into the hallway and poked his chest. “I really need to know that this isn’t some for fun thing once we have sex or im some temp girlfriend for you.”

Shaking his head, Toji took your hand and led you to the couch, sitting you down before sitting right next to you. “Honesty hour time. Ready?”

“Are you wanting to be that honest?”

The earnest look in his eyes gave you your answer.

With a deep sigh, he sat up and spoke slowly. “You’re my first real thing in a long time. Like long long time.” Toji squeezed your hand as he tried to work his way through his thoughts. “You know how in movies and shit when they say that their person makes them feel comfortable and like home?”

Your lips twitched into a reluctant smile, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly. ‘You’re calling me your person.”

“You didn’t know that?” He grabbed your other hand, sitting on the edge of the couch to look directly in your eyes. “I might be shit at this type of thing, But you are mine. You quite literally cussed out that lady who tried scamming me out of 300 bucks.”

“Toji. Thats just a random Tuesday for me.”

He laughed out loud while holding your face with his, that look of adornment filling his green eyes as he saw the warmth and genuine care he had for you flood his mind. “You being you is why I adore you in every way. I apologize for my words. They were fucked up and you didn’t deserve that.”

“We are both learning and figuring it out. You just have to be real and open with me.”

“I’m willing and ready. I promise.” toji leaned in to kiss your forehead and lingers for a moment before pulling back only a few inches.

“You are going to give me a headache. I swear.” You beamed as he helped you stand up and let you lead him to the kitchen.”

“Maybe. But It’ll mean I’m always on your mind.”

“Holy shit, Fushiguro, you’re actually unbearable.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The storm outside has finally started to ease, but the world beyond the windows is still blanketed in thick, untouched snow. The apartment felt warm and lived-in after three days together, an unspoken rhythm forming between the two of you.

You’re in the kitchen, leaning against the counter as Toji scrapes batter into a pan to make pancakes. He’s shirtless again because why wouldn’t he be and moving with the casual confidence of someone who’s been here a hundred times before.

“I’ve gotta admit,” you speak up, watching as he expertly flips a pancake. ‘You really are the poster boy for domesticating a man.

He smirks, glancing over his shoulder at you. “Don’t get used to it. This is a special occasion.”

“Oh, being snowed in with me is a special occasion now?”

“Damn right it is,” he says without missing a beat.

You laugh, shaking your head as you grab plates from the cabinet. There’s an ease to the conversation now, a closeness that wasn’t quite there three days ago but formed after last nights conversations. As Toji finishes the pancakes, he nudges you gently out of the way to grab syrup, his hand briefly resting on your hip before he moves past.

“You’re in my kitchen,” you tease, setting the plates down on the small table.

“I’m making the food, aren’t I?” he shoots back, but there’s no real edge to it.

The two of you settle in to eat, the conversation drifting between teasing banter and quiet moments of shared warmth. Toji, as usual, eats like he hasn’t seen food in days, and you can’t help but laugh at the sight.

“You’re really making yourself at home, huh?” you say, resting your chin in your hand as you watch him.

He pauses, his fork halfway to his mouth, and gives you a look. “What, you want me to leave?”

You roll your eyes. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

There’s a beat of silence before he leans back in his chair, his expression shifting slightly. He’s still got that casual confidence, but there’s something softer in the way he looks at you now.

“I was thinking,” he starts, scratching the back of his neck like he’s trying to find the right words.

“Dangerous,” you quip, earning a small smirk from him.

“Funny,” he says dryly before continuing. “I was thinking... this hasn’t been so bad. You know, us being stuck here.”

You raise an eyebrow, playing along. “Oh? High praise coming from you.”

“So,” he said casually, “what are we calling this?”

You paused mid-bite, looking up at him. “Calling what?”

“This,” he said, gesturing vaguely between the two of you. “Us. You’ve got me snowed in, wearing your apron, cooking breakfast… Feels like I should be getting some kind of title out of this.”

You raised an eyebrow, setting your fork down. “Are you asking me to define the relationship, Toji?”

He shrugged, but there was a faint hint of color on his cheeks. “I’m just saying, if I’m sticking around, I might as well make it official. Save myself the headache of wondering if some guy’s gonna swoop in while I’m not looking.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the way he danced around the subject, his usual bravado masking a vulnerability he didn’t quite know how to express. “So you want to be exclusive?” you asked, a small smile tugging at your lips.

He leaned forward then, his green eyes locking onto yours. “What I want is to make sure you know I’m serious about this. About you. So tell me what we are. And I am so locked in with you.”

The sincerity in his voice took you by surprise, and for a moment, you just stared at him, your heart swelling with warmth. Then, unable to resist, you reached across the table and laced your fingers through his.

“Okay,” you said softly. “We’re exclusive.”

A slow grin spread across his face, and he gave your hand a light squeeze. “Good. Now eat your pancakes before they get cold.”

“You can warm them and me up then.”

“You’re impossible,” he mutters, but there’s a warmth to his tone that softens the words.

“And yet, you’re still here,” you tease, your smile softening.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide your smile as you picked up your fork. The two of you ate in comfortable silence, the snowstorm outside nothing more than a memory. And as you sat there, sharing a meal and stealing glances at each other, you realized this—this feeling of warmth and belonging—was exactly what you’d been hoping for all along.

The snowstorm may have brought you together, but this—this closeness, this warmth—is what’s keeping you here.

[darksturnz]

A LITTLE LIGHT

i hope everyone who celebrates is having a great Christmas eve! it honestly doesn’t even feel like it’s christmas tho :,) anyways here’s a sappy holiday blurb!

The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, Star stood on her porch, the gift she’d spent hours wrapping cradled in her arms. Across the lot, Chris’s trailer glowed faintly with the light of a single window. It was beat up, like all the trailers here, but tonight it seemed more inviting than usual. Maybe it was the thought of Evelyn being home, or Lila’s enthusiasm for the holidays, but something about it pulled her in.

Evelyn had opened the door before Star even had the chance to knock.

“Hi, sweetheart!” Evelyn greeted her with a warm smile, her voice carrying the faint rasp of someone who had been through more than her share of battles. But tonight, there was a brightness in her that matched the twinkle in her eye. “Come in, come in—it’s cold out there!”

Star smiled, stepping inside and kicking off her boots at the door. The trailer smelled like cinnamon and pine, and for a moment, she felt as though she had stepped into a scene from one of those holiday movies Madison was always trying to get her to watch.

“Ma, you’re supposed to be resting,” came Chris’s voice from the kitchen. He appeared a moment later, wiping his hands on a dishtowel. His hair was slightly messy, as though he’d been running his hands through it while working. His eyes landed on Star, softening just a fraction.

“Chris, I’ve been resting for weeks, I’m not dead yet,” Evelyn shot back, already making her way to a box of ornaments sitting by the couch. She moved carefully, but there was a stubborn determination in her every step. “If I don’t help decorate this tree, who’s going to stop Lila from putting all the ornaments in one spot?”

Chris let out a small sigh but didn’t argue. Instead, he turned to Star, his expression softening even further. “Hey.”

“Hi,” Star replied, feeling a flutter in her chest she still wasn’t used to.

“Chris, help me with the lights!” Lila’s voice rang out from somewhere near the couch. The six-year-old was already untangling a mess of string lights, her curls bouncing as she pulled on the strands with the determination of someone three times her age.

Chris glanced at Star, his lips twitching into the faintest of smiles. “Guess you’re on ornament duty.”

The next hour was a flurry of activity. Lila darted around the room, her excitement infectious as she insisted on showing Star every ornament she pulled from the box.

“This one’s my favorite,” Lila said, holding up a glittery snowflake with a missing point. “I made it when I was little.”

“You were so much littler, huh?” Star teased, helping Lila hang the snowflake on a low branch where she could reach.

Chris worked silently but efficiently, stringing the lights around the tree with a practiced ease. Star couldn’t help but watch him from time to time, her heart softening at the sight of him crouching to adjust the lights at Lila’s height or standing back to admire his work with a faint nod of approval.

Evelyn refused to sit still. She was everywhere at once, hanging garlands, offering decorating tips, and reminiscing about Christmases past.

“Chris used to hate Christmas when he was Lila’s age,” Evelyn said with a laugh, hanging a wreath near the window. “He’d complain about the cold and the noise, but the second the gifts came out, he’d be the happiest kid in the world.”

“Ma,” Chris groaned, his ears turning pink.

Star bit back a laugh. “Sounds like he’s always been a little grinchy.”

“Not always,” Evelyn said, giving Chris a fond look. “He used to draw me Christmas cards every year—these beautiful little sketches of trees and snow. I still have them in a box somewhere.”

Chris looked away, busying himself with adjusting a strand of lights.

“Did he ever make you anything, Lila?” Star asked, smiling at the girl.

“He drew me a princess last christmas,” Lila said proudly. “But she had armor, ‘cause Chris said princesses don’t need saving.”

Star glanced at Chris, who was still pretending not to hear. She couldn’t help but smile.

As they worked, Evelyn turned to Star. “What about you, sweetheart? What does your family do for the holidays?”

Star hesitated, the warmth of the room suddenly feeling a little too close. She hadn’t expected the question, and for a moment, she wasn’t sure how to answer.

“My mom passed away a while ago,” she said finally, keeping her voice steady. “And my dad’s… away for the holidays. On a trip.” She tried to sound nonchalant, but the weight of the words hung in the air.

Evelyn’s face softened, her hand resting lightly on Star’s arm. “I’m sorry, honey. That must be hard.”

“It’s fine,” Star said quickly, forcing a small smile. 

For a moment, the room grew quiet, the cheerful buzz of activity paused. Then, Lila broke the silence.

“s’okay, Star,” she said brightly, tugging on her hand. “You can come over with us for Christmas!”

Star blinked, the sudden warmth in her chest catching her off guard. “Oh, I—”

“She’s right,” Evelyn said gently. “We’d love to have you.”

Lila leaned closer, cupping her hand to Star’s ear and whispering loudly, “Chris already got you a present anyway.”

“Bug.” Chris turned, his voice half-annoyed, half-embarrassed.

“What? It’s true!” Lila said, grinning innocently.

Star glanced at Chris, who was now very focused on untangling a nonexistent knot in the lights.

“Can’t wait to see what it is,” Star teased, her smile softening as Chris muttered something under his breath.

The trailer had transformed by the time they were done. The little tree sparkled with mismatched ornaments, glittering lights, and Lila’s signature touches—a cluster of candy canes in one spot and a crooked star on top. Garland draped over the windows, and a few candles flickered on the kitchen counter, their glow soft and warm.

Evelyn sat on the recliner, a satisfied smile on her face. “This is the best it’s looked in years,” she said, looking around the room. “You kids did good.”

Chris shook his head, pretending to brush off the compliment, but Star caught the faint smile tugging at his lips.

“It looks perfect,” Star said, standing beside him. Her shoulder brushed his, and he didn’t move away this time.

“Yeah,” he said softly, glancing down at her. “It does.”

Evelyn watched them with a knowing look, but for once, she didn’t say anything.

They all settled down on the couch and recliner with mugs of cocoa. Lila climbed into Star’s lap, chattering away about how she’d convinced Chris to let her pick out the tree (“He said no at first, but then I looked at him like this—” she demonstrated with wide, pleading eyes—“and he said fine!”).

Chris rolled his eyes but didn’t argue, sipping his cocoa quietly.

“I remember the year Chris tried to make eggnog” Evelyn said suddenly, her eyes sparkling with laughter.

“Ma, don’t,” Chris said, groaning.

“Oh, I’m telling this one,” Evelyn said with a grin. She turned to Star. “He was about thirteen, and he decided he wanted to make Christmas special. So, he found this recipe for eggnog—except he didn’t have half the ingredients, so he just improvised.”

“It was fine,” Chris muttered.

“It was terrible,” Evelyn corrected. “It curdled! And the kitchen smelled like spoiled milk for days. But he was so proud of it, and he made me drink an entire glass.”

Star couldn’t hold back her laugh, and even Chris, despite his embarrassment, let out a low chuckle.

“Don’t let her fool you,” Chris said, shaking his head. “She told me it was the best eggnog she’d ever had.”

“I couldn’t crush your little spirit,” Evelyn said with a mock-serious tone.

The sound of their laughter filled the room, blending with the warm glow of the lights. For a moment, Star forgot about everything else—the cold, her empty trailer, the ache of her father’s absence. Here, in this small space, surrounded by this messy, imperfect family, she felt a sense of belonging she hadn’t realized she’d been missing.

Lila’s energy finally waned, and she fell asleep curled up on the couch. Chris carried her to her room, tucking her in with the kind of care that always surprised Star. He didn’t speak, but the way he smoothed her curls and pulled the blanket up to her chin said everything.

When he returned, Evelyn was already making her way to her room.

“I think I’ll turn in too,” she said, but not before stopping to kiss Chris on the cheek. “Thank you for making this a good night.”

Chris looked embarrassed, but his smile lingered even after Evelyn turned to Star.

“You’re always welcome here, sweetheart,” Evelyn said softly, squeezing Star’s hand. “Don’t be a stranger.”

As Evelyn disappeared into her room, Star made her way to the door, Chris following behind her. She turned to say goodbye, but the words caught in her throat when Evelyn’s voice rang out from down the hall.

“Oh, would you look at that!” Evelyn said, peeking her head out of her bedroom with a cheeky grin. She pointed upward. “Mistletoe!”

Star blinked, her eyes darting to the doorway. Sure enough, there it was—a tiny, fake ornament hanging crookedly above the doorframe.

Chris groaned, his hand running through his hair. “Ma,” he muttered, his ears turning pink.

Evelyn only laughed, retreating into her room. “Goodnight, you two!”

Star turned back to Chris, her heart pounding. He looked down at her, his usual guarded expression faltering into something softer.

“Well,” Star said, trying to sound casual even as her voice wavered, “it’d be sorta rude not to follow tradition huh?”

Chris hesitated for a moment, his hand twitching at his side as though he wasn’t sure what to do. Then, slowly, he stepped closer.

The kiss was soft—gentle in a way that made Star’s chest ache. Chris’s hand came up to cup her cheek, and she leaned into him, her fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt. It was different from the first time—less tentative, more certain.

When they finally pulled apart, Chris rested his forehead against hers, his eyes half-closed. “She’s gonna give me hell for this,” he muttered, a small, crooked smile tugging at his lips.

Star laughed softly, her breath warm against his skin. “Worth it.”

Star stepped out into the cold night air, her cheeks still flushed. She made her way across the lot, the glow of Chris’s trailer fading behind her.

“Star!”

She stopped, turning just in time to see Chris jogging toward her. His breath curled in the air, and before she could ask what he was doing, he was there, pulling her close and kissing her again.

It was rougher this time—more urgent, as though he was afraid the moment might slip away. When he pulled back, his voice was low and unsteady.

“Don’t ever think you’re not part of something,” he said, his hand lingering on her waist. “Not anymore.”

Star stared at him, her heart pounding.

“Goodnight,” he said softly, his lips quirking into a faint smile before he turned and walked back to the trailer.

Star stood there for a moment, her breath visible in the cold night air. Then, with a small, dazed smile, she turned and went inside.

AUTHORS NOTE: did you catch what i did there or… ;3

TAG LIST: @jetaimevous @sturnsblunt @riasturns @ifwdominicfike @chrissturns-wife @mattsmunch @pip4444chris @ribread03 @ariestrxsh @angelic-sturniolos111 @pvssychicken @mattslolita @stvrnzcherries @dottieboo @lovergirl4gracieabrams @bluestriips @sturniolo-fann @slut4brunettes

[sc0tters]

What If I’m Cold? | Mat Barzal

summary: when one winter night gets a little cold, Mat has the perfect solution to help you fall asleep.

requested: yes/no

warnings: sexual themes, oral (fem receiving!) unprotected p in v, cock warming, swearing.

word count: 2.31k

authors note: merry Christmas to all those celebrating! I really did want to get something out for him for Christmas and I gave up on a different idea so we instead used him for another smut!

You hated the cold.

The different scarves and excuse to stay home and watch Christmas movies with your hot chocolate, couldn’t amount to the way you hated the cold.

Your body would freeze and it seemed that the moment the weather broke through the many layers you were constantly forced into, you were fucked. Most people loved how the snow made the perfect excuse to stay inside, and how the rain made a serene lullaby.

The summer was where you thrived, frozen margaritas and long days in the sun with picnics on the beach were your summer. But as you lived in New York, you had no choice but to suck it up.

That was how you ended up looking as if you were auditioning to be a cocoon with all the layers of thick blankets and duvets on top of you. The heat was as high as it could go without him fully burning up from next to you.

“Baby I can feel you fidgeting.”

The words made you freeze as you looked at the clock seeing the time on his bedside table reading 3:00 in red illuminated numbers “I can’t sleep.” You whined still feeling your cold feet, that hadn’t seemed to warm.

It made him smile as he finally opened his eyes “and what am I meant to do about that?” Mat blinked rolling over to face you.

Even after four and a half years of living together, the sight of your cold body in bed never failed to make him laugh as you really did believe that you couldn’t have enough blankets. His eyes felt as if they dug into your soul “I don’t know.” You batted your eyelashes as you let your foot settle between his legs wanting to warm them up.

It resulted in a high pitched screech that came from his lips as he almost jumped out of your bed “fuck me you’re freezing!” Mat yelled making you softly laugh.

The gesture was innocent as you let a giggle slip from your lips “‘s not my fault.” You grumbled watching him get settled back into his side of the bed.

There was this comfort that settled over you both as he let out a yawn “just try to get some sleep.” His voice was soothing as he watched you frown “can you at least cuddle me?” You pleaded letting out a whine as he remained silent.

“Please.” You begged, dragging out the E making him click his tongue “c’mere.” He mumbled moving the blankets up so that you could crawl into the space next to him. The move was quick as you weren’t going to waste any time, incase he hesitated or even changed his mind.

A snow storm had settled over New York in the late hours of the previous day, so as many cheered for the definite white Christmas. You were cursing the way the cold practically nipped at your soul “stupid snow.” You grumbled causing a laugh to erupt from his lips as he kissed the lobe of your ear.

His hands wrapped around the waistband of your pants. He always found it so funny that even with your hatred of winter, you loved those long Christmas pyjamas.

You softly nodded as you let your eyes travel to the picture on bedside table. It was a framed one of the two of you, grinning as Mat had convinced you to join him for a skate at the Rockerfeller Center. Oh how you laughed so hard that day as you could barely stand upright without landing on your ass.

Mat could feel that you remained awake, even as he tried to let his slumber consume him “what is it baby?” His voice way rough, echoing in your ears “I promise I’ll go to sleep soon.” You tried to brush it off, wanting him to not be tarred with the same lack of sleep as you.

But after all these years, Mat knew that you weren’t just going to fall asleep. In fact, you would happily stare into the abyss until the sun rose if you couldn’t fall asleep.

So instead Mat did the only thing he could as he let his hand grip at your hip “baby.” His voice was sweet as he peppered the side of your neck with kisses.

It made your breath hitch as you gripped at the pillow beneath you “let me warm you up.” Mat knew his suggestions were right as he felt you drive your body back into his.

You rolled over again, getting to look up at him as he smiled “you don’t have to.” You let your cold hands run over his collarbone, a purple hickey decorated the one “ain’t gotta worry about being cold my pretty girl.” Mat cooed as he tucked his fingers through the ends of your hair.

His words made your thighs clench together. He took little effort to get on top of you as he smiled “always did love these on you.” Mat confessed toyed with the buttons on pink pj top that was complimented by blue bows “but I know they are better off.” His voice was devious as he kissed you.

The feeling of his stubble was rough against your cheeks, but you didn’t seem to care as you could taste the minty toothpaste that he had used only a couple of hours ago.

You melted into his touch as he tilted your jaw getting more access as his tongue swiped across your lower lip as he pulled away, pressing soft kisses against your jaw and slowly traveled down your neck “please Matty.” You begged feeling his hands press under your shirt before he began to open the buttons.

Mat sat up to look at you as if he was admitting a statue crafted by the gods “can’t say no when you ask so nicely.” You propped yourself up when you watched him shimmy under the covers, making you realise that you weren’t as cold as you once felt.

The hockey player pulled your pants down, letting out a hum of praise as you lifted your hips to help him “always been my prefect girl.” Mat pressed a kiss against each of your thighs as he let his hand cup your cunt, feeling just how soaked you were.

As the anticipation got the better of you, you pulled the sheet up to see his tooth grin staring back at you “oh fuck-” you brought your hand up to cup your mouth as he chuckled “ain’t even done nothing yet doll.” He smirked reaching his hand up to tug on your arm.

You didn’t put up a fight as you nodded “you know that moaning helps you warm up.” Mat didn’t give you a chance to respond as he ran his tongue through your folds “god!”you arched your back driving your hips further into his hold.

His fingers soon followed suit as he latched his lips into your clit whilst he let his fingers thrust into your cunt “such a sweet cunt.��� Mat grunted sending shivers through your body “all for me too ain’t it?” He smiled tugging at your hips.

You nodded as he went back to lapping at you as if you were his last meal “always yours Mat.” You moaned allowing your fingers to latch into his locks of hair.

The feeling of his facial hair against your cunt was a sensation that you had grown to love during the November months as the team always feel into a movember bet of sorts.

His hand slid up your stomach to your breast as he let your nipple roll between his fingers “holy fuck Mat.” Your eyes screwed shut as you pushed your head into your pillow.

There was a pornographic moan that left your lips as your cunt clenched around his fingers that made his cock grow hard as he let his tongue swirl around your sensitive bud. He opted to change to his middle and ring ringer as he could sense that you were close.

Your thighs began to tense around his head “I-i.” Your voice stammered as your chest heaved “I know sweet girl, just let it go.” His blessing made you pant and your body shook.

Mat curved his fingers into a come here motion as the movement of his tongue became needy, as if he was craved your release just as much as you did.

His name fell in a steady stream of repetition as you rolled your hips against his face as your vision grew dark with whit stars painted across your eyelids “so sweet.” He smirked as his lips left your cunt with a pop as he sucked at his fingers whilst he stared at dazed eyes.

A soft smile formed on your lips as your eyes traveled down his body, as if you took a mental image of chiseled torso all the way down to his bulge that popped in his grey boxers “still think I’m pretty cold.” There was cheekiness in your voice as the boy smirked “is that so?” He asked as you nodded.

It was amusing how after all these years the two of you never seemed to lose that playful joy that lived within this relationship.

Mat would have pulled you on top of him but the sight in front of him, was one for the sorest of eyes “still so needy.” He clicked his tongue as he leaned down with barely any space between you both “that’s the pot calling the kettle black.” You rolled your eyes as you placed your hands on his cheeks bringing him into a kiss.

His hips dragged against yours making you jump as your cunt was still sensitive “fucker!” You grumbled as Mat let his head drop to the crook of your neck as he laughed.

The boy left his head there as he focused on tugging down the waistband of his boxers “shit I need you so bad.” He nipped at your shoulder whilst he pumped the swollen head of his cock a few times “please baby.” Your nails scratched along his spine as he nodded.

His cock tapped your clit twice before he dragged the head down your slit as he placed his free hand next to your head, allowing him to prop himself up as he stared into your eyes “fucking hell.” Your hand gripped his wrist as he let his cock get swallowed by your cunt until pubic bone was met with your hips.

The way your walls stretched to the shape of his cock at an instant was enough to make him contemplate cumming on the spot “Mat.” Your voice barely broke a whisper as he nodded, beginning to pull away from you.

A mix of street and Christmas lights shone through a crack in the curtain as it hit the gold necklace that sat around your neck with the little M comfortable between your breasts.

The sight made him grow feral almost as he lifted your thighs wrapping your legs around him “you feel so good.” Mat cooed beginning to thrust his cock deeper into your cunt with the new angle.

Mat kissed your lips as you let out a whimper “just like that.” You whimpered sending him a nod as your lips hung open, lost in the pleasure you felt as he fucked you “shit.” The hockey players eyebrows furrowed as you clenched around him feeling his cock throb.

His eyes traveled down to see where your skin smacked against his as he let out a grunt “wanna hear you.” Mat kissed at your neck, sucking new bruises that were sure to leave a mark.

You let your lip get caught between your teeth as you let your hips grind against his, desperate to chase your high “please.” You nodded letting your hands scratched his back.

Mat continued to hit all the right spots as he let his thumb fall to your clit “just like that.” Your moans echoed against the walls around you as tears formed in your eyes.

Pleasure clouded your mind “fuck Mat so good.” You whimpered feeling your body spasm against him as your toes curled.

For Mat that was what sent him over the ended as his release shot ropes against your walls as his head rested on top of yours “that was so fucking hot.” You swore feeling him pull out of you.

Mat smiled as he rolled off of you, watching as the mix of both of your releases oozed out of your cunt “atta’ girl.” He pressed a kiss against your temple as you let out a yawn “finally gonna get to sleep now huh?” Mat asked as he lay down back on his own side as you let your legs shut whilst he used his hand to bring your pants up.

Just as the boy let his eyes shut you let out a sigh loud enough for him to look at you “what?” He asked seeing that your arms were clearly buttoning up your top.

You let your smile grow as you sucked at your teeth “what if I get cold during the night?” The silence that hung around you both, made it clear he was listening and had taken the bait.

His hands were rough against your stomach as your pants were pulled down just enough for him to move your legs open “you happy?” Mat scoffed thrusting his cock back into your cunt knowing that he was still hard and your cunt was slick with lust and release.

You nodded feeling him kiss your head “absolutely fabulous.” You clenched around his cock feeling him slowly continue to thrust his cock before he let it stop.

His fingers slowly toyed with your cunt as if he was coaxing you into your slumber“such a fucking brat.” He grumbled letting his legs entangle yours “yeah but I’m your brat.”

[naturesapphic]

Hi my little Morgan 💓

Can you write Billie and the reader decorating for their first Christmas together? Just cute Billie fluff xx

Love you!!

Decorating For Christmas

Billie Eilish x fem!reader

Warnings: just fluff :)

Word count: 1,303 :)

It was around nine o’clock in the morning when you heard footsteps approaching behind you and a pair of arms wrapped around your waist. You instantly knew it was Billie because you felt the rings on her fingers and you looked down to see her fairy tattoo on her hand. “Good morning mamas.” Billie rasped in your ear, her voice still laced with sleep. You felt chills go through your body and Billie smirked at you, leaning down a bit to leave a kiss on the side of your neck.

“Guess what day today is.” Billie said as she laid her head on top of yours. “Um…Black Friday?” You said and Billie shakes her head no making you more confused. “No silly! It means it’s time to decorate for Christmas! This will be an our first Christmas together! I want it to be special.” She said quietly at the end as she spins you around in her hold so you are facing her. You start to blush and you look down shyly. “Yeah we can do that today, just let me finish our breakfast and then after we eat we can start.” You tell her and she beams making you smile at her enthusiasm.

You finished breakfast and the two of you ate quickly so y’all can work on the house. You got up and started cleaning up while Billie went to the basement to grab all of her Christmas decorations for inside and outside of the house. A few minutes later you went down the basement to help her out and the two of you grabbed a bunch of boxes and went back upstairs. “Okay, we got some decorations for the front and back yard, then we got some for every room in the house and my Christmas tree is huge so we will need to find the ladder.” Billie explained and you nodded along, making a mental list of everything she said.

~ an hour later ~

“Billie don’t let me fall!” You squealed as Billie was laughing her ass off, making sure the ladder stood steady. “I won’t let you fall baby! Relax!” Billie snorted and you huffed, continuing to put up the lights around the roof on the house. Billie smirked up at you and whistled, her eyes landing on your ass. “Hey! Pay attention to what you are doing!” You yelled and she wiggled her eyebrows. “Oh I am.” She commented and you rolled your eyes. The two of you finished putting the lights out in front of the house and went inside to get the blow ups. Y’all had many and decided to put all of them out because why the fuck not.

After putting the blow ups and the rest of the decorations outside in the front, y’all decided to do the back before it gets dark since it was already one o’clock and Billie had many decorations for the back yard. Heading out in the back the two of you worked for three hours, putting up all sorts of lights in the trees and bushes so everything was covered. Billie had two huge nutcrackers that she bought a while ago and placed them at the back door. Finishing up the decorations in the back yard, the two of you started heading inside as the sun started to set. You quickly took out your phone and snapped a couple of pics before heading inside as Billie was watching you with a smirk on her face.

“You are too cute.” She gushed and you felt your cheeks warm up at her words making her smirk grow. “Come on, let’s turn on some movies and get this tree up.” Billie said and you nodded, following behind her as it took y’all a bit to take this huge ass tree out of the box it came in. As Billie was setting up the bottom part of the tree, you turned on the grinch that has Jim Carrey in it, which is one of your favorites. The two of you put the tree together and Billie was the one up on the ladder making sure everything was connected at the top and you were at the bottom making sure that she didn’t fall off the ladder since we all know how clumsy she is.

Next was putting the tinsel and garland up on the tree which was entertaining to see Billie so frustrated with the garland, making sure it was wrapping around the tree right. “Okay fuck this, I’m done. I hope it looks good.” Billie said, glaring at the tree and you let out a little giggle which caused her to stick her tongue out at you. “Let’s put the tinsel on and then we can put our ornaments on!” You said happily as Billie reached down to grab the tinsel from your hold. The two of you worked together to put tinsel all around the glowing tree and once y’all were done, now was the best part, putting the ornaments on. Billie went down the ladder to help you sort out which ornaments y’all planned to put on the tree and once yall figured out which ones to use, Billie went back up the ladder. She had a few in her hands, big circular sparkly ones that you picked out while you had some Billie picked out and placed them everywhere you could reach.

“Babe, where should I put the blohsh ornament at?” You asked and Billie pointed to the middle of the tree where the lunch lunchbox inspired ornament was and you went on your tippy toes to try and reach it but failed, making you pout. Billie giggled and reached down to grab it from you and placed it right in the middle of the tree where everyone could see. The two of you continued to place all different kinds of ornaments on the tree but there was one that made you stop in your tracks. You picked up a little frame that had you and Billie looking at the each other, not bothering to look at the camera in front of y’all. “Bils…where did you get this?” You said quietly, holding it up for Billie to see. Bil looked down at you with a soft expression and climbed down the ladder carefully.

She reached the bottom and hopped off, walking over to you and engulfing you in her arms. “I got this made the other day, I wanted us to have our own special ornament.” She said softly as she tucked a few pieces of your hair behind your ear, giving you the most love struck look. You felt tears burn your eyes as you gave her a big hug, wrapping your arms around her making you giggle. “I’m guessing you like it mamas?” She said cheekily and you let out a giggle. “Of course I like it! I love it bils. Let’s place it here.” You said as you walked over to the tree and placed it eye level, where if anyone walked by the tree. That would be the first thing they lay eyes on. Billie smiled at you fondly and scooped you up in her arms making you squeal. She sat on the couch and held you in her arms while watching one of her favorite Christmas movies on. You snuggled into her, laying your head on her plush chest, looking up slightly to keep your eyes on the movie. There the two of you laid for the rest of the night, finishing the tree in the morning but for the mean time, resting in each others arms as the night passes by.

A/n: Merry Christmas Eve everyone! Or happy holidays :) thank you anon for requesting this! I hope you and everyone else enjoyed it! Remember to stay hydrated and to rest! Take care of yourselves. I love y’all! Stay safe.

[henneseyhoe]

Home For Christmas

Terry Richmond x BLACK!FEM!reader

WARNINGS: none, lil bit of angst if you squint, fluff, short.

SUMMARY: Your husband, Terry, promises to be home to you and your daughters for Christmas, but will he really?

✮✮✮✮

The snow outside lit up the yard in the moonlight, frost nipping at the windowsill the more the weather dropped. There wasn’t a soul outside, not even the little black cat you saw wandering around late at night. Even she couldn’t be bothered with the harsh cold.

The house was warm and so was the hot chocolate you cuddled in your hand, but nothing could warm you the way you needed to be warmed. Nothing could make you feel the Christmas spirit you wanted to feel.

You missed your husband like crazy and your kids did too. They could feel the sadness radiating off of your body and it didn’t make it better for them, but you couldn’t help it. Terry had been stuck in another state for work, promising that he’d be back on time for Christmas, yet, he hadn’t shown and it was 5 hours to 12.

The roads had closed and from what you heard, till further notice. Flights were being canceled left and right, hell, you were nearly snowed into the house, only a small walk way you shoveled earlier prevailing, but even that was starting to freeze over a bit.

“Mama” Your 7 year old daughter, Tiana, called for you, looking up from her laying position in your lap.

You gave her your attention, a soft smile spreading on your face. She looked just like you when she was upset. You felt bad that she was sad too, but it was the cutest face she made that made you smile.

“I thought daddy said he’d be here by nowww” She whines, her baby sister, Jasmine, almost immediately getting annoyed as this was her fifth time mentioning what she thought was the obvious.

“Ana, you have to wait! Mommy told you already” Her little finger pointed at sister with agitation on her face that made you wanna laugh, but that’d just get you scolded by ‘little miss thinks she’s mommy’ too and you didn’t think you had the energy to correct it tonight.

She had so much attitude before she even turned 4, all of it inherited right from Terry when it came to people she cared for the most, a trait of loyalty you were sure Terry also took part in.

Before they could even get to arguing, you set your mug down on the windowsill and gathered them both up next to you, their matching onesies getting all bunched up from mixing in one spot for so long.

“Aht, cut it out you two. Daddy means well when he tells us things, but…maybe he just got the times wrong. If he isn’t back by tomorrow, then we’ll just have to forgive him, okay?”

Your youngest’s eyes quickly fill with tears that pull at your heart strings, her lip poking up with a quiver only Terry could settle at the moment. “So he’s not coming back tonight?”

You sigh. A few more hours of this and you were sure to cry with her.

“How about we wish really hard and go to bed, then see what happens?” Your children were quick to try and disagree while attempting to flee, but you swooped them up into your arms anyway and cuddled them close, giving them their nightly kisses.

Your back may be aching tomorrow from sharing a couch with two children, but they convinced you earlier to be around here to ‘catch santa’ and you couldn’t help but give in with the possibility of Terry not being here and upsetting them further.

Hours ticked by and you counted almost all of them, going in and out of sleep until you were knocked out of your cycle by the sound of boots against hardwood. Your eyes cracked open, seemingly at the same time as the mini-me’s laying on top of you, that followed by a gasp from both of the girls.

You and the kids almost leap from your seats, the sun outside the floor to ceiling windows in the living room making an attempt to blind all three of you, but all of you were on a mission that couldn’t be ruined by sleep still being in your eyes.

“DADDY!!!” The screams of joy were so loud from the kids that you would have thought they were awake all along, not a speck of grogginess in their voice.

Terry toppled over with both of them jumping for his legs, but he still managed to hold them properly, giving them both kisses on their chubby cheeks that they happily accepted. You had no idea how he pulled something like this off, not to mention bringing the rest of their presents from ‘santa’ in without disturbing anyone’s sleep.

“Really?” You ask in disbelief, Terry giving you a shrug before sitting up, sending the two off to pick a present out to open.

You were still curious, a shrug not being enough for you. “How?” You squint, helping him up from the floor.

“Christmas magic, baby. I always find a way”

He smiles and kisses your lips, then leads you to the tree. Again, the explanation wasn’t enough.

“Oh, please! Don’t gimme that, I’m not five, Terry” You complain, pulling his hand off of yours to demand a direct answer.

Terry sighs and looks at you with his arms now crossed, still happy despite being pressed before you even moved to give him a kiss first. “If I told you, you’d call me a liar”

“Well…” You wait, tapping your foot to add on effect.

There was a hint of childishness in his smile, you already knowing this wouldn’t be the answer you wanted either. “Santa brought me”

“….Nigg-”

Before you could even call out bullshit, You were quickly shut up by the presence of your kids, the both of them gasping in awe at what they just overheard being revealed to you.

“You know what…fine” You throw your hands up in defeat and chop it up to what he said, Christmas magic.

✮✮✮✮

As the children settled down and played with their toys, you became stuck to your husbands side like you were glued there, your arms wrapped around him. You admired him while he admired the kids, your tummy fluttering with butterflies similar to when you two first met.

“I really hope you know…” You started, bringing his attention to you.

“Hm?”

“That I love you and your determination to always come through for us, especially your kids, makes me love you even more”

He smiles brightly, his heart skipping beats. “I’m supposed to. Not that I don’t want to also, but I hate to see yall upset. Plus, I couldn’t miss their faces opening their new ballet shoes”

You smile back at him and stand on your tip toes for a kiss, savoring the warmth of his embrace.

“Oh, and I was gonna let them jump you if you were late. They told me not to tell you” You say after pulling from your fifth kiss that day.

“Wooow, straight out the gate? No warning?”

“Mhm! nothing but elbows as soon as you walked through that door”

Terry shook his head with a laugh, already plotting on catching the two off guard with a little roughhousing session.

“It be your own kids”

“Yup. May have told them to get a little lick in for me too”

You shrug, letting him go and walking off into the kitchen, knowing he’d follow like a stray.

“Damn, mama too? What’d I do to her?”

Wrapping his arms around you while still in motion, he mimics your footsteps all the way to the counter.

“Leave me with two hard heads for a week. I got something for you later though”

He smiles against your neck then playfully bites at you, your chin tucking in to protect yourself.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Mrs.Richmond”

✮✮✮✮

💌- Merry Christmas! i hope yall enjoyed yalls holiday. Here’s something short and sweet cause i love a good family fic lmao. <3

[junixscribble]

The Holiday Spirit

I was seized by the spirit of creation and held by the throat till I wrote this. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays I guess! (thanks to the tk server for the fuel!)

Title: The Holiday Spirit

WC: 1621w

Summary: Viktor is stubbornly refusing to get into the Snowdown spirit and leave his work alone for an evening. Jayce uses the only method he knows of to get him to chill, only to realise this deal goes both ways.

-------

Piltover had grown cold with the change of seasons, and with it came a healthy dose of cheer tinged with worry for Jayce. The first snowfall on the city made him anxious and sent him back to the swirling blizzard he had been trapped in before the mage appeared to save him and his mother. It was manageable, but storms left him on edge more often than not. 

Thankfully, Snowdown was a welcome distraction. Houses were lit with warm hues and decor was slung over trees and buildings in the city, so Jayce could find as much business as he wanted in the decoration of his own home. The fire roared in the fireplace, filling the small apartment with heat and light while Jayce stood atop a cobbled together ladder and hung bunting on the window frame. A record blasted holiday tunes to fill the silence and Jayce was happy with his progress.

His peace was interrupted when the door was flung open by an appropriately disgruntled and cold Viktor, shopping bag in one hand and crutch in the other.

“It is fucking shitty out there.” He stated, chucking the bag on the counter and shutting the door before starting to take off a multitude of layers. “My crutch was slipping all over the ground and frankly I’m offended that I left the house at all.”

“Vik, you insisted you’d be fine to pick up the groceries.” Jayce said, coming down off the ladder with a grin. Viktor glared at him.

“Well Viktor from an hour ago was an imbecile and should not have been trusted.”

“You threatened to smack me with your cane if I went instead.” 

“As I said. Imbecile. Now why are you hanging fabric from the roof?” Viktor asked, head tilted.

Jayce shrugged. “It’s Snowdown. Bunting is nice!”

“Ah, yes. Consumerism central masked as a fun holiday.” 

That earned Viktor a long enduring sigh from Jayce. “Vik, you’ve gotta make fun for yourself somehow.”

Viktor hummed and started putting away the groceries, examining the apartment as he did so. “It certainly looks… festive.” 

“That’s the point! Oh, I’ve actually got something for you.” Jayce ran out into the bedroom and came out with a maroon sweater with white snowflakes embroidered on.

“This is for you!” 

Viktor took it from his hands, feeling the fabric over. “This is a holiday sweater, no?”

Jayce nodded, a proud smile on his face. Viktor couldn’t say no to him like that - and from what he could tell the sweater was very well made. 

Viktor took off his cardigan and pulled on the sweater to find it offensively soft and warm. He opened his mouth to speak and then closed it before starting again. 

“I was going to say something witty and perhaps a little insulting, but this is… comfortable. Thank you, Jayce.”

“My mother made it. You should have seen the ones she made when she was starting out - they were as wonky as they come. She’s gotten quite good at it though.” 

“Tell her I appreciate it.” Viktor said with a smile, and then pulled out a thick tome filled with taped in notes. He opened it on the table, brought out a pencil, and started puzzling over an equation. 

Jayce huffed. “Seriously, Vik? We’re like 4 days out from the holidays, surely you can stand not to bring work home with you.”

“Progress waits for no one. Least of all a man-made excuse for avarice.” 

“Viktoooor, come ooooon!” Jayce wheedled. “We’ve both been working since the sun rose. We can go back tomorrow.” 

Viktor kept writing, lost in his own head. Jayce sighed and cracked his knuckles. “Well if you’re not going to get into the Snowdown spirit yourself, I’m gonna have to make you.”

It took a minute for Viktor to process the sentence and by the time he realised and tried to scramble out of his chair Jayce was almost on top of him. He braced himself for the awful feeling of fingers on his sides but when the attack came all he felt was the movement of fabric. Viktor stood in shock for a minute before looking at Jayce’s face and barking out a laugh.

“Ha! The sweater is too thick for you! Suck on thahahAT FUHUCK OFF!” 

Jayce had sent his hands under Viktor’s jumper in the middle of his sentence and that crawling feeling Viktor had been anticipating was now directly over his sides. 

“By Janna, how many layers are you wearing, Vik? I’m surprised you’re feeling this at all!” Jayce teased, genuinely amused at how much Viktor was twitching at him tickling through what felt like six layers of fabric. 

“Yohou are a cruel and unjuhust pahartner!” 

“Eh, no I’m not. If you’re that resistant about getting into the holiday spirit, then I think you need more convincing.” Jayce pulled his hands down from Viktor’s sides and found the top layer of fabric, slipping back under it and scuttling up to spider under his arms now. Viktor’s arms pinned to his sides and he hunched his shoulders up, leaning into Jayce’s chest as he laughed. 

“Coal! Coahal and beetles are all you are getting thihis year!”

 “That doesn’t sound all that cheerful to me. Do you need another layer?” Jayce cocked his head and smiled when Viktor buried his face in his neck. 

“Nohoho! Let me go!”

Instead of answering Jayce pulled his hands out again and stuck them under another layer, this time scribbling all over his stomach. He could feel that there weren’t many layers left, and by the looks of Viktor immediately trying to pull his hands away he could feel it too. 

“Jahahayce! You’re a fuhucking fiend and I am going to put snohow in your pajamas-”

“That’s it.” 

Jayce pulled out all the stops and slid his hands under the final layer of fabric, squeezing Viktor’s hips before scrabbling towards his upper ribs, completely unprotected by his brace. In one motion Viktor threw his head back and cackled while losing his footing and dropping to the floor. Jayce took a second to break his fall before going right back to drawing spirals over his ribs. This kind of tickling wasn’t as intense, but Viktor was still squirming around like a fish out of water under him. 

All Viktor did in response to Jayce’s raised, questioning eyebrows was stick out his tongue, so Jayce kneaded and wiggled his fingers between the bones of his ribs. Viktor shrieked and started swearing in Czech, hurling out several that Jayce recognised. As punishment he pulled one hand off his ribs and set it on his tummy, squeezing and spidering over the skin. 

“Are you cheered up now? In the Snowdown spirit?” Jayce asked. Viktor glared through his giggles and Jayce shrugged.

“Guess I’m pulling out the raspberries. Come on, let me at your belly.” 

“NO!” Viktor yelled and in a burst of energy rolled to the side and away from Jayce, ending up face down and protecting himself. “Keep your evil beard away from my fucking stomach!” 

Jayce laughed and sat back, giving up the game. “The beard tickles that badly, does it?” 

Viktor flushed and sat up with his arms firmly around his middle. “What the hell do you think?” 

“I’ll be sure to keep it then.”

Viktor sputtered through some words before standing with the help of the couch. Jayce handed his crutch back to him which he accepted before moving to the kitchen. 

“Get your round ass in here and cook.” 

…

A few hours later Jayce was snug on the couch with a book while Viktor was in the shower. All was well until a high pitched yelp rang out and Jayce jumped to his feet, sprinting to the door.

“Viktor, are you alright?” 

The shower cut off and was followed with some select insults at the plumbing before a reply was heard. 

“The water turned fucking ice cold! Again!” 

Jayce winced. “The wind must have blown the boiler. I’ll fix it.”

It only took five minutes for Jayce to reset the boiler and by the time it was done Viktor was dressed in warm pajamas. Despite the heavy fabric, he was shivering. Jayce stood and closed the closet door, gesturing over to the couch so they could sit down. The two of them curled up together, Viktor leaning into Jayce’s side with his eyes closed. They sat like that, content for a while, until Viktor grumbled and started pulling at Jayce’s sweater. 

“Let me in.” Viktor said, quite literally trying to crawl into the jumper with Jayce. Jayce would have been fine with this if Viktor’s hands weren’t the same temperature as an ice cube. He jumped at the contact, squirming away with half a yelp. 

Viktor was of brilliant, sharp mind, and it didn’t take long for him to connect the dots. He slid his hands further up Jayce’s deliciously warm sides and grinned at the resulting laugh. 

“My hands are cold. I think you can help with this.” Viktor said, and that was all the warning Jayce got before freezing cold, nimble fingers were crawling all over his torso. He pressed into the back of the couch, snickering and trying to take it but all it took was Viktor kneading his belly for him to break into full laughter. Viktor perked up at the sound and a dangerous glint caught his eyes.

“I wonder if you can take raspberries as well as you dish them out?” 

Jayce had less than a second to protest before Viktor pressed his lips to his stomach and sent him into a laughing fit like no other. There was no doubt about it - Jayce was completely and utterly done for. 

[miifu666]

I remember you made that yandere post on wukong and I love reading it !! I was wondering do you have any thoughts on the destiny one or macaque if their were yanderes ? 👀 if not no worries ^^

Merry Christmas ‼️ time to show off Destined one, who i believe is scarier than the other two, like they say. The quiet one is the scariest. Also, a lot of you asked for DO soo sorry for the long wait 😭

⋆˙⟡ —CW: dub-con, Somnophilia, exhibition kink, Scent kink, Yandere, non-con, NSFT

Yandere! Destined one

Unlike the other two, he's more of a monkey than them. The things he feels are 10x more worse, justified by his actions that he so called "courting you properly" even if its mostly just him stalking you throughout the day and after that, slowly building your own paranoia to work with him. Yuan fen would stay silent, even as you come at him with rapid eve movements around the room and heaving breaths. He's smart enough to hide how he's the source of all your troubles, your every rant about this so called paranoia thats been bugging you, the feeling of being watched and some objects going missing will help him to improve more on his skill.

"I-ive been feeling paranoid around here... please tell me im not crazy, Yuan Fen.."

Yuan fen is a silent person. His actions speaks more in volume. That doesn't mean he's not using it to his advantage, he's like a monster who's been under your nose all this time. The creature who hides under your bed, like literally. Or sleep beside you, depending on how both you travel. Haven't you felt how tiring your body is despite getting a full 8 hours of sleep? Also, why does your underwear get sticky? Are you that exhausted for your intimate areas to be so.. sore? You don't even wake up when Yuan Fen drapes his arms over you, snuggling closer to your nape until the sun shows itself. Uncovering the dirty deeds he did during his time with the moon and on top of you.

His hands are sticky as he continues to spread his musky scent into your chest, making your sleepy self associate his smell with pleasure. Trailing down his fingers down your hips, spreading your legs and pumping your hole with his long and kneady fingers. He's just making you feel comfortable, dont worry too much. On days where he knows you're lethargic, he'll make sure the sheets beneath you to be dry as he goes on his endeavors. Drinking and lapping up every single drop of your sweet honeyed love nectar, the more activities you do in the day, the more sweet you are in the night.

He'll make sure to be silent, aside from his slurping and gulping the nice opening you let him eat on. Eating you out is like his own way of charging his battery, his own personal ambrosia.

"Dont look at me like that! My hips and back are hurting okay! I thought i already put enough leaves on my side of the bed... ugh"

Yuan fen is a sweet mate, a good friend. He'll make sure to to spoil you rotten with fresh fruits he picked, he thinks about you 24/7, makes sure you feel loved with his oh so sweet gesture of being a gentleman, never letting you touch any doorknob or step on any puddles, Yuan fen who wants your approval despite the dominating attitude he gives soff. Yuan fen who notices you melt every time you hear his voice, each new words he said is purposely deeper than the last. Just to make sure he has you crooning over him while he worships you, an object of his desire with a favouritism of his voice? Oh he'll have fun with it.

Yuan fen who would speak to you more once he's face to face with your trembling thighs, making sure to growl the nastiest and filthiest things the moment his hands and throbbing member came in contact with your puffy hole. You'd be taken aback at how he says such vulgar sentence with a straight face, his eyes held the mad obsession he keeps inside.

"Its okay if you can't talk! Your actions are more than enough"

Yan! Yuan fen is an obsessive and possessive monkey who would do anything to mark you. Conscious or not, he'll make you his. He's smart enough to be the mind relic and quiet enough to do unsuspecting acts without gathering attention. He doesn't care if he's being clingy in front of Unclee Bajie, the celestials or even Erlang. Whoever has the guts to try and woo you, is going to enjoy the last 7 seconds of their life.

Is his hands being around your waist not a good enough sign? Is his smell covering every bits and crevices of yours not enough?? Does he need to spread you open in front of them to show who you belong to? He'll do so if it means they'll understand how unworthy you are to them, but not to him. Oh, never him. You're a perfect being, only fit to be his, only created for him. You're his one and only.

"My. Mate"

[panda-writes-kpop]

I'll give it to someone special ~ k. mj.

a/n: Merry Christmas to all who celebrate! I wanted to have this fic out earlier but I was recovering from a nasty sinus infection the last few days that managed to travel into my lungs and give me a chest cold 🫠 it's all good though, this is the best I've felt in about a week so I'll take it. KATIE'S COMEBACK IS HERE EVERYONE RAHHH

tw: lots of food mentions, winter kind of breaks into your apartment?, mixed bag with angst and fluff so take it as you will, writing might be a bit rough around the edges since it's been three months

summary: the icy weather reminds me of your unstable "relationship" with Winter as you prepare for a Christmas party with friends. Little did you know that a late night visitor would settle your worries about Winter once and for all.

♡ Masterlist ♡

Last Christmas, I gave you my heart…

You hum to yourself as you pull the Christmas cookies from your oven. The scent of pure sugary goodness, mixed with the gingerbread candle on your countertop, is enough to make you drool.

You usually weren’t this festive when it came to Christmas. With finals season being intertwined with the holiday, it was hard to be excited about Christmas when you’re trying to not cry over an exam. Throw a few retail shifts, and you quickly grow tired of the Christmas season.

But this year… something was different. You managed to get through finals season in one piece, and your place of work decided to shuffle some non-Christmas music into their season mix. 

…You still didn’t like All I Want for Christmas is You.

The lights on your Christmas tree seemed to shine brighter, illuminating the main showstoppers - the ornaments on your tree. One in particular catches your eye as you set the cookie tray down on two potholders. 

It’s a simple glass bulb in your favorite color with your name engraved in cursive letters. You remember finding it on the window sill outside of your apartment last year.

A light knock on your window makes you nearly jump out of your skin as you look up from your computer. You grumble because you were finally starting to get into the groove of studying, and your final was in two days - couldn’t this wait?

You tilt your head as you notice a small box on your window sill. Cautiously, you stand up and head towards the window as you inspect the box. 

It has small red and green shapes all over the box - definitely from a Christmas store, but who could have gotten something like this for you?

With a barely audible click, you open your window and grab the unexpected present, hoping that bombs don’t come in abnormally small packages.

As carefully as you can, you open the box to reveal an ornament inside.

Sugar cookies weren’t the most demanding treat to make, but they were a smash hit with your foodie friends. Add in some snickerdoodle cookies, your grandma’s famous chocolate chip cookies, some homemade rock candy, and a few other goodies, and you were a necessary addition to many of your friends’ Christmas parties.

This year, to save yourself the hassle (and a few broken cookies from the trip), you decided to host an intimate gathering with a few of your friends. Sure, your apartment wasn’t the biggest place, but you’d only have three guests.

Four, if you can count on a special someone coming your way.

With 48 hours to go, and plenty of baking to do, some late night baking was necessary to get everything done in time. As you watch the sun set (much earlier than it should), your mind wanders back to the ornament on your tree.

I know you bought that ornament for me. Minjeong.

~

Your phone buzzes as you concentrate on creating the perfect carrot nose for one of the sugar cookies. You don’t break concentration until it buzzes again, which makes you give your snowman an orange tongue that’s somehow connected to his stubby nose.

“Sorry, bud, we can’t all be perfect…” You mutter to yourself before setting the frosting down and picking up your phone.

You don’t recognize the phone number, but the text messages seem oddly familiar.

On my way! Don’t stay up late for me. <3

It’s already past 9 o’clock, and you’re only done with a small portion of the sweet treats you have to make, so it’s probably going to be a late night anyway… and you were terrible at listening to others.

Maybe that’s why the two of you never worked out?

There was something sweet in rebellion, besides the wonderland of baked goods that sat in your kitchen. You never were a rebellious teen, for one reason or another, so you liked to do rebellious things like stay up late, order junk food, and binge watch TV until three in the mornings.

…There’s a reason why Giselle calls you and Karina the losers of your friend group.

“C’mon, go drinking with us!” Giselle throws her arm around your shoulder, completely ignoring the way Winter tenses up at the action. “It’s no fun to eat take-out alone and rewatch the same show again and again.”

You feel the need to defend yourself as Winter’s piercing eyes meet yours for a minute before she looks away. The frown on her face neutralizes into a more aloof expression as you study her further.

“For the record, I don’t rewatch shows that often.” You say as Ningning narrows her eyes at you.

“What are you watching right now?”

“Okay, that’s besides the point!” You fold your arms after teasingly brushing Giselle’s arm off your shoulder. 

“One night can’t hurt, right?” Giselle elbows your arm before continuing to march down the street. “First round’s on me!”

You sigh while choosing to pinch the bridge of your nose instead of trying to fight against your friends’ plans. They had good intentions, trying to bring you out of your comfort zone, but you’d much rather cut this meeting short. Partially because you want to go home, and partially because Karina’s absence made the tension between you and Winter so much more palpable.

~

The small timer next to your oven happily dings as you finally shut the oven off for the night. Although you weren’t completely done, at least everything that needed to be baked was baked tonight. You could frost and assemble everything in the morning, after you had a bit of sleep and a break from the repetitive Christmas music coming from your music speakers. 

You quickly turn the dial back to zero on the timer before pulling the last round of cookies from your oven. With the sickening sweet smell of chocolate chips invading your nose, you set the cookies aside as you glance around your kitchen.

I just need to let these cookies cool, do a few dishes, and then box everything up so the gnats stay out of my sweets.

Checking the time, your shoulders slump as you notice that it’s two-thirty in the morning - where did the time go?

Good thing you don’t have work early tomorrow; otherwise, you’d probably call off. 

Winter would scold me for doing that.

You chuckle at the thought - Minjeong would scold you for calling her Winter, saying it was “too formal for our relationship”.

Our relationship? What relationship could she be talking about?

Winter was your friend, just as Ningning, Giselle, and Karina were, but you two often stretched the definition of the word “friend” to its limits.

“Winter-” Your back meets the wall as Winter places two hands on either side of your head, forcing you to look in her eyes.

“I want you.” Her posture seems harsh, but her voice softens as one of her hands leaves the wall to caress your face.

She’s giving you an out - you could slip out of this situation if you wanted to. You could rejoin the party like nothing happened.

But you can’t pretend like nothing happened. Not when you’re with her.

“I want you too.” Breathless, a shaky hand beyond the control of your rational thoughts reaches out and pulls Winter closer to you.

With her face so close to yours, you press your lips against hers.

Yet words like situationship and friends-with-benefits seem too… distant for the two of you. They imply a lack of connection and romance, which definitely doesn’t seem to describe the two of you.

Unless buying flowers and intimate gifts for each other could just be seen as a friendly gesture.

“I bought you these.” You present the bundle of flowers to Minjeong, as if you were a nervous pre-teen who was trying to impress your crush.

“Oh… thanks.” Her hands ghost over yours as you pass the bouquet to her. 

The lack of emotion on her face causes you to panic as you grab one of her wrists.

“If you don’t like them, I can always return them, or get some different flowers-”

“They’re lovely,” Winter interrupts you, “but I didn’t think we were close enough for gifts.”

You fake a warm, innocent smile as your brittle heart starts to crack under your false expectations of Winter.

Icy memories aside, it was time to let your mind and body rest as you made sure that the oven was turned off and the cookies were correctly sealed away-

Tap! Tap!

Luckily, nothing was in your hands as you jumped at the sound of something tapping against your window.

“Damn bird,” You mutter under your breath, “I’m going to murder Karina for feeding you.”

With the fluffiest slippers, and in your finest Christmas pajamas, you stomp through your living room to handle the avian problem that’s still tapping on your window.

When you approach the window, your birdy frenemy is missing from the window; instead, a familiar face stares back at you.

Against your better judgement, you throw the window open and offer her your hand.

“Winter? How the fuck-” You pause as she takes your hand and tries to crawl into your apartment.

“Don’t ask.” Her voice is raspy from the cold as she manages to enter your apartment. “Why did you get a third-story apartment?”

“Why did you climb up to my third-story apartment?” You stare at her, dumfounded, as Winter carefully closes the window behind her.

She freezes before turning around and shrugging her shoulders.

“I missed you?”

You pause before laughing to yourself.

“You could’ve called, Minjeong! That’s what normal people do!” You gently scold her as she rubs her arms to stay warm.

“I sent a text your way. Did you get it?” 

“Ah, so that’s who sent me that message.” A tiny smile appears on your lips as she lets out a small breath of relief.

“You’re not mad?”

“At you? Never.” You smile before suddenly becoming aware of the state of your apartment. “Sorry, this place is a mess. I’ve been baking all day, and I didn’t have any time to clean.”

“No, don’t worry. I’ll help you clean up before the party.” Winter casually brushes by you to grab a pillow from your couch as you stare at her in disbelief.

“Minjeong, do you know what time it is? Scratch that, do you know what day it is?”

“Yeah, it’s the 25th - Merry Christmas, by the way - and the party’s in about twelve hours. I thought I’d help you clean up before everyone else came.”

You fold your arms as a small smile appears on your face.

“It’s the 24th.”

She stops fluffing up the pillow and turns her head towards you.

“Really?” Winter tilts her head, confused for a moment, before continuing her task. “Well, that gives me more time to help you.”

“You can’t be serious!” You follow her every movement as she appears to gracefully dance around your couch and guide your decorations back into their rightful places. “You need to sleep, as do I.”

“I’ll sleep when I’m ready to.” She brushes you off again as you feel your frustration beginning to build.

“What compelled you to see me at this hour?”

“I told you that I missed you.” With that same unreadable expression, she gently sets a Christmas teddy bear against your Christmas tree. “Isn’t that enough?”

“It’s enough when your actions match your words, Winter.” The words slip out of your mouth, callous and cold and completely unlike you.

Her expression sours as she looks at you.

“What did you say?” 

You shyly look away as your frustration melts under her scrutinizing gaze. You were never good at standing up for yourself in front of her, but how could you let your heart fracture again and again as you dance in this endless “will-you-won’t-you” limbo with her?

“I’m tired of doing this with you. We flirt and tease and kiss but it never leads anywhere.” 

It feels good to let your frustrations out, as you’re usually letting yourself melt into her embrace every time you’ve thought this in your head before. Although you’re not opposed to the night ending that way, you want to hear her say something first.

“Ah, so that’s what you meant.” Winter slowly walks towards you, but stops a few inches short of your reach. 

She offers you her hand, an olive branch that you’re not familiar with, but you don’t take it right away.

“I want to hear you say it.” Your voice softens as you stare into her eyes.

“That I love you? I thought that was obvious - did the gifts not express my love for you? Do you want me to show you that I love you in a different way?”

“I just want to be yours, Minjeong. Sure, I’m affectionate and friendly with the other girls, but I’ve never wanted to be with anyone else since I met you. I’ll do whatever it takes. I just can’t keep doing… whatever this is anymore.” You pause to take a shaky breath. “I love you.”

You gently take her hand, which she immediately brings to her lips.

“I.” She presses a kiss to your hand before gently pulling you forward.

Her other hand cups your face as her lips meet your cheek. 

“Love.”

Her hand leaves your hand and lands on your waist instead.

“You.”

Her lips meet yours, and you don’t hesitate to kiss her back.

The taste of sweet liquor, dangerous and fruity and addictive, hits your tongue as you attempt to memorize her taste for good.

It feels like every time I kiss her will be the last - isn’t that sad?

When you break away from her, you’re left breathless as a small smirk appears on her face.

“Is that enough to convince you that I love you?”

“Yup.” You sigh, completely and utterly lost in her world.

She could tell you sweet little lies, honey-coated false promises, and you’d believe every word. 

She was the gospel, and you were the truest believer.

“I’m sorry that I’ve made you feel like you’re not important. I know you’re busy with university, so I always thought that you wanted to wait. I never, ever met to push you away.” Winter’s hand leaves your face and intertwines with yours.

“I… should apologize too, for not expressing myself earlier.” You squeeze her hand in reassurance. “And thank you for leaving me that ornament a year ago.”

“You knew it was me?” Winter looks bewildered as you try to hide your laughter. 

“Of course I did - who else would do something like that for me?”

“I-” She pauses before shaking her head. “Of course you did. You’re much smarter than anyone gives you credit for.”

“Ah, stop, you’re making me flustered!” You playfully push her away before her hands reach out to grab you again.

“C’mon, don’t tease me like this.” She nearly begs as she glances at a picture on a nearby shelf. “Otherwise I won’t take you on a date this Sunday~”

“Wait a minute,” You immediately grab onto her arm, “you’re serious?”

“I am. We have to make it official, after all.”

You give Minjeong the biggest smile before wrapping your arms around her torso.

“Thank you for everything. I’m glad you stopped by today, even if you didn’t come through the door.”

“You’re not going to tell the others about that, are you?” She looks concerned as you impishly laugh. 

“Oh, you know I will.” You gently tap her nose before pulling her in for another kiss.

[elflutter]

— the last day

joel miller x f!reader

synopsis

It was the morning of his thirty-sixth birthday the last time he saw you. If he had known it was the last time, he would have spent hours drinking in the sight of you like fine wine. Never would have let you leave for work. Maybe that day would’ve wound up different. Maybe he wouldn’t have lost both his girls—maybe he wouldn’t have lost either.

wordcount: 1.2k — ao3 | masterlist | fic notifs

tags/warnings: 18+ mdni, joel's pov, angst, abiguous but unhappy ending, brief smut (unprotected piv), established past relationship | inspired by this screenshot for @iamasaddie's writing challenge

It was the morning of his thirty-sixth birthday the last time he saw you. Woken by your soft whisper of good morning, birthday boy against his lips. Cradled you in his arms, peppered your skin with sleepy kisses before he took his time in capturing your mouth, gentle and slow. It was your favorite way to start the day. His favorite, too. Seeing you, radiant skin drenched in the warmth of early morning sun.

If he had known it was the last time, he would have spent hours drinking in the sight of you like fine wine. Never would have let you leave for work. Maybe that day would’ve wound up different. Maybe he wouldn’t have lost both his girls—maybe he wouldn’t have lost either.

But you urged him downstairs with a smile. Voice sweet and lilting, “I’ll be down soon, cowboy.” The scent of bacon and eggs wafting up from the kitchen lured him out of bed with the promise of a homemade breakfast shared with you.

Tommy had dropped Sarah off at school, so it was just the two of you in the house. Schedules packed with work and family and Sarah, moments shared alone were few and far between. You swore up and down that you didn’t mind, always knew Sarah came first. That you understood. Told Joel not to worry about it. And he knew you meant every word. But a gnawing guilt clawed at Joel’s skin that you deserved better. Someone who could give you the attention you deserved—bouquets of flowers and candlelit dinners instead of affections scribbled on post-it notes stuck to the fridge and midnight takeout after long days of work.

But the way you fit into Joel’s life like a missing puzzle piece was one of the reasons he loved you so damn much. How you saved every one of Joel’s post-its, and left your own in response. How you packed Sarah’s lunch when you knew Joel was pulling his hair out over work or Tommy’s antics. How you looked at her like you knew you’d never be her mom, but you loved her like a daughter anyways.

Another year, and Joel would’ve proposed. Two, and you would’ve been married. Three, maybe Sarah would’ve had a baby sister.

The clatter of Joel’s fork dropping to his plate, he coughed around a bite of eggs as you rounded the corner into the kitchen. Traipsed down wooden stairs barefoot, dressed in a lacy black teddy. Joel’s favorite piece on you.

You stole his breath every damn time he saw you. But there was something special about how the lace hugged every curve perfectly, the confident swing of your hips whenever you’d slip it on.

Joel’s voice caught in his throat, “baby.”

That grin on your face was nothing but trouble when you asked him, “you wanna unwrap your present, birthday boy?”

He should have walked you up the stairs with his hand in yours, laid you on the bed like the priceless beauty you were, and made love to you slow and gentle. Should have whispered praise and devotion in your ear with each slow thrust of his hips.

But Joel Miller was only a man. And you both had to leave for work in half and hour. So the last time he fucked you was hard and fast against the kitchen table. His whispers were hot and dirty in your ear as you came.

“Good fuckin’ girl, that’s right baby, give it to me, come on this cock.”

He didn’t savor the hot wrap of your cunt around him how he should have, didn’t engrave each flutter of your release to his memory.

He should have shouted his love for you to the stars the last time he filled you with his come. But he didn’t know.

“Bet you want a little present too, dirty fuckin’ thing.” Hips rut into you, pushing you farther up the table. A harder thrust punctuates his gritted out, “right in here, ain’t that right baby girl?”

Your pathetic uh-uh-uh’s turn to moans of yes, yes, yes.

His last memory of being inside you was all rough edges and desperate heat where it should have been the soft embrace of adoration. He could have given that to you. On other days, he did. But on that last day, on his birthday, he was selfish with your body. Knew how you loved to be used, how he loved to use you. Still, he wishes he had been soft.

Joel fed you eggs from his fork, his come dried in between your legs. Giggling like high school sweethearts after breakfast as he wiped you clean and helped you dress for work between stolen kisses.

His hand rested on your thigh; Joel’s eyes on the highway, yours fixed on his side profile. You leaned over the center console of his truck, soft lips pressed to his, one last murmur of happy birthday with a promise to see him tomorrow, before you hopped down onto the sidewalk that led to your office building.

That night, you carpooled with a co-worker back to your place. Said you wanted to give Joel time to celebrate with Sarah. If he had pushed harder, insisted that you stay over like you did nearly every night, maybe things would have gone differently. Maybe Joel Miller wouldn’t have lost both halves of his heart.

When the world fell apart on his way back home with Tommy that night, his soul was cleaved down the middle. You, Sarah, you, Sarah, you, Sarah. He chose Sarah, of course he did. He always would. But still, he lost her. And he never found you.

He played every scenario over and over, each of your uncertain fates. He knew you’d have been brave. Knew you’d have fought like hell. Knew you would’ve looked for him and Sarah and Tommy in those first hours of chaos.

Sarah learned her love of hiking from you. You’d been holding hunting rifles since you were ten. You could have made it. But that day, and each one that followed, was a game of luck as much as it was one of skill.

Did you die alone? Shot by a soldier like Sarah? Backed into a corner by infected? How many times did you dial his house? Were your hands shaking as you dialed Joel on the landline? Did you even make it out of Austin before they bombed it to hell? Were you infected? Were you alive?

That led to one final certainty, spiked and treacherous. It kept Joel up at night, more than sheets that stank of mildew and twigs dug into his back. Shattered the one pipe-dream he could grab hold of after the worst night of his life. Even if you had made it (improbable), even if he could find you (near impossible)—survival made a monster out of Joel Miller. You would hate him now. Not a question. Not an answer to the questions he would never know. Joel stopped looking for you a long time ago, because the man you had loved was dead and broken. This was the foundation upon which he rebuilt his broken heart into one of stone.

Perhaps it made him weak, and cowardly. Perhaps it meant he’d failed you twice. His blood-soaked hands were not even fit to hold your memory for fear that it would shatter and break. Whether you lived or died, loss would be Joel Miller’s final lover. Because he had given up on you.

fuck neil druckmann + naughty dog, support palestine

a/n: uhh sorry but hope you liked it? follow @elfutter-fics for notifs!

dividers by saradika-graphics

[ikkyfics]

Stag Party

James Potter x reader

Summary: Sirius ignored him completely. “First, remember one thing: atmosphere is everything. If you stay somewhere with a creaky bed, you’ve failed as a husband.” James laughed but covered his face with his hand. “Merlin, I can’t believe I’m hearing this.” “Oh, wait, there’s more.”

Warnings: none

Part 7 of Marry Me

Masterlist

It was a golden afternoon, with the sun gleaming on the autumn leaves in the garden. The air was filled with anticipation, especially for James, who was sitting on the couch beside you, his hands intertwined with yours, wearing that signature smile that always made your heart race.

You both were savoring the last quiet moments before the evening’s commotion. James was about to leave for the long-awaited bachelor party organized by the Marauders, and though he tried to hide it, it was clear he was excited.

The door slammed open, and Sirius entered first, a whirlwind of energy. His messy black hair was more unruly than ever, and he wore a leather jacket that was definitely not suitable for the weather. "Prongs! Time to go, my dear future married man!"

Right behind him came Remus, more composed, but with a mischievous glint in his brown eyes. He was wearing a blue sweater that looked like it had been knitted by some devoted grandmother, a stark contrast to Sirius's chaotic energy. "Hope you're ready. Sirius spent the whole week planning this," he said, giving a slightly suspicious glance to his friend.

Peter appeared last, carrying a wrapped box that seemed heavier than he was. He was blushing and grinning from ear to ear. "I told you I wasn’t carrying this alone!" he protested, as Sirius easily took the box from him.

"Prongs, let’s go! We’ve got the whole night planned, and you can’t be late," Sirius said, slapping James on the back.

James looked at you, his blue eyes shining behind his glasses. He seemed torn between wanting to spend more time with you and the excitement of going out with the guys. "I guess this is a goodbye for a few hours," he said, leaning in close.

You smiled, knowing exactly what to do. Gently pulling him by the tie he was wearing – because of course James wore a tie even on a casual day – you kissed him. It was a slow, sweet, deliberate kiss that made him sigh against your lips.

"Oi, oi! Let’s go, Prongs, this isn’t the honeymoon!" Sirius exclaimed, pretending to cover his eyes.

"For Merlin’s sake, we’re still here," Remus muttered, but his smile gave away how much he found the scene amusing.

James finally pulled away, but not before leaving a last kiss on the tip of your nose, causing more grimaces from Sirius. "I’ll be back soon," he said softly.

Before they left, you placed a hand on Sirius’s chest, stopping him. "I’m only going to say this once: strippers are off the table. Understood?"

Remus raised an eyebrow and responded with his usual calm. "I promise there won’t be any strippers."

"But I can’t guarantee anything about—" he started, only to be cut off by Sirius.

"Hey, hey! That was supposed to be a surprise!" Sirius said, feigning indignation. "But don’t worry. We’ll bring Prongs back safe and sound for you... eventually."

When James was practically dragged out of the house by the Marauders, he looked back one last time, flashing a smile that made your heart melt. You shook your head, knowing he was in good hands – albeit extremely chaotic ones.

Outside, Sirius was already waiting impatiently to Disapparate. "Prongs, today’s the day you learn what real fun is. No responsibilities, no wedding lists, just us and the best night you’ll have before you say 'I do.'"

James raised an eyebrow, adjusting his glasses. "As long as it doesn’t involve anyone losing their pants or ending up in the Ministry’s holding cell..."

"Relax, love," Sirius replied with a grin, throwing his arm around Remus’s shoulders, who looked at him with skepticism. "We’re not losing our pants. Just... maybe... misplacing them temporarily."

Remus sighed, but there was a lightness in his eyes. "Ignore him, James. The worst that’ll happen is Sirius breaking a bar stool trying to show off some inappropriate dance moves."

"Hey! That was ONE time!" Sirius protested, while Remus just shot him an incredulous look.

"Oh, let’s go before you start fighting," Peter said, stretching out his arms so everyone could Disapparate together.

They vanished with a pop and reappeared in a place that was a mix of controlled chaos and extravagant magic. A wizarding bar filled with floating enchantments greeted the group, with colorful lights flashing around and a makeshift stage where a band was playing.

"Welcome to the Howling Cauldron," Sirius announced dramatically. "The best place to celebrate like there’s no tomorrow."

James looked around, surprised by the size of the place. The enchanted walls displayed constantly changing landscapes – from lush forests to snow-capped mountains – and the tables were filled with spells that made drinks levitate directly into the customers' hands.

“I’m afraid to ask how you found that out,” James said, throwing a glance at Sirius, who simply smiled as if he were the greatest genius in the world.

Remus rolled his eyes, but there was an obvious affection in the gesture. “He spends more time researching bars than he should, but... he has good taste.”

Soon, the group was seated at a polished wooden table, with mugs of butterbeer and goblets of mead being magically distributed. Sirius raised the first goblet, signaling for everyone to do the same.

“A toast to Prongs!” he began, with a wide, sincere smile. “To the best friend a guy could have – and to his bad luck for getting married before me!”

Remus gave his shoulder a light punch. “You’ve literally been dating me for years, and we live in the same house.”

“Details, details,” Sirius shot back, before continuing the toast. “Prongs, you deserve all the happiness in the world. And honestly, we deserve credit for putting up with you while you fell madly in love and got unbearably mushy.”

James blushed slightly but smiled. “You make it sound like it’s a bad thing.”

“Oh, it’s not bad,” Peter chimed in, with a shy smile. “It’s just... constant.”

Everyone laughed and toasted, the sound of the goblets echoing through the bar.

After a few rounds of drinks and embarrassing stories – like the time James fell off his broom trying to impress you – Sirius appeared with a box wrapped in a silver ribbon.

When Sirius handed the box to James, his eyes sparkled with the same mischievous energy that had turned simple moments into legendary tales. “Just open it,” he insisted, his voice full of expectation.

James, who had already been blushing lightly from all the laughter – and maybe a bit from the rounds of mead – raised an eyebrow and carefully untied the silver ribbon, clearly skeptical. As he opened the lid, he froze like a deer caught in the headlights.

Inside the box was a pair of underwear that blinked in bright letters: Love, You’re Lucky to Have Me.

The bar exploded with laughter. Sirius literally barked a loud laugh, slamming his hand on the table hard enough to almost spill his drink. Remus joined in with a short laugh before covering his face with his hand, shaking his head in amused disapproval. Peter, on the other hand, let out a high-pitched laugh and immediately took a long gulp of his butterbeer, trying to contain the embarrassment of being seen in public with this chaotic group.

James picked up the item with two fingers, holding it up in the air like a broken broomstick. “Sirius, this is absolutely ridiculous,” he said, but the smile that threatened to form on his lips betrayed any seriousness he tried to fake.

“Ridiculous?” Sirius repeated, mock-offended. “This is a masterpiece! You’ll thank me when you wear it on your honeymoon.” He winked, and the group laughed even harder.

Remus, who had until then tried to maintain some dignity, finally succumbed to the chaos. “This is so you, Sirius. You’ve managed to combine bad taste and creativity in one gift.”

Sirius dramatically pointed at him. “Ah, but that’s why you love me, Moony.”

“For that and your amazing skills at being the most inconvenient person in the world,” Remus retorted, but there was a smile at the corners of his mouth.

“Speaking of inconvenient,” Peter began, with an expression that could only be described as a small, adorable betrayal, “has anyone told the story about the time James tried to impress her with that spell to make fireworks?”

James turned around so fast he almost knocked over his goblet. “Peter, no!”

But it was too late. Sirius was already leaning forward, his eyes shining with anticipation. “Wait, I don’t know this one!”

Remus bit his lip, trying to hold back a smile. “Oh, it was memorable. James decided to surprise her in her garden. He wanted to conjure fireworks with their initials...”

Peter completed the story, enthusiastically betraying James: “But he messed up the spell, and the sparks ended up forming completely wrong initials, and she got confused because she thought he was talking about a completely different couple.”

Sirius laughed so hard that tears threatened to escape. “You... you basically confessed your feelings for another person! This is pure gold, Prongs.”

James shook his head but couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped. “Oh, of course, because none of you ever did anything stupid to impress someone, right?”

Sirius blinked innocently. “Me? Never.”

Remus raised an eyebrow. “Uh-huh, sure. Want me to mention the time you tried to impress me by dancing on top of a table in the common room?”

“Oh, that was a display of talent, Moony,” Sirius replied, without an ounce of shame.

“It was more of a display of how clumsy you are,” Remus shot back, and the group erupted into another round of laughter.

When the laughter started to die down, Sirius turned his attention to James with a smile that promised nothing good. “Now, let’s talk seriously, Prongs. Are you ready for your honeymoon?”

James squinted. “If by ‘ready’ you mean I’ve planned everything to make it special, then yes. If you mean am I ready to hear you give absolutely inappropriate advice, then no.”

Sirius completely ignored the second part. “First, remember one thing: atmosphere is everything. If you stay somewhere with a creaky bed, you’ve failed as a husband.”

James laughed but covered his face with his hand. “Merlin, I can’t believe I’m hearing this.”

“Oh, wait, there’s more,” Sirius continued, raising a finger. “Never underestimate the power of a good ambient lighting spell. Magic lights are good, but enchanted candles with scent? Perfect.”

“That’s very specific,” Remus commented, looking at him with a slightly flushed face.

Sirius smirked. “I only say what I know.”

Before James could protest, Peter intervened with his hesitant voice, but full of enthusiasm. “Oh, and have you chosen who will be the godfather of the first baby? Because I have a list of reasons why it should be me.”

That broke any remaining attempt at seriousness. James laughed loudly, and even Sirius looked surprised by Peter’s boldness.

Remus shook his head, smiling. “You’re skipping a few steps, don’t you think?”

Sirius patted Peter on the shoulder. “Ah, Wormtail, you always know how to steal the show. But we all know the godfather will be me.”

When the night came to an end, James looked around at his friends with a smile that didn’t need words to express what he felt. They were chaotic, unpredictable, and absolutely insufferable... but they were his family.

And as Sirius led the group toward the exit with one last tease, James made a mental note: maybe he really should consider those scented enchanted candles. After all, every piece of advice had its use.

taglist: @hisparentsgallerryy