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queenmuzz · 3 days ago

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A Chain Unbroken Chapter I

A link in the chain.

Read it HERE on Ao3

It’s winter time, and Emmrich wants to go out, wants to skate the frozen river, he wants to go out to play with friends. Twilight is fast approaching, but he doesn’t care. He’s eight years old, he doesn’t need his mother to go with him anymore, he’s a big boy, the dark doesn’t scare him anymore.

But he’s also a dutiful son, the only child of the Volkarin household, so when his mother tells him that he can only go out after supper, and that supper takes place only after his father returns home, he bites his tongue and completes his chores. Tend the fire, and set the table. The latter he does eagerly, the sooner his father could sit down to eat, the sooner he could go out. Hopefully his friends wouldn’t have wandered off in boredom, leaving him alone. He hated being left alone.

The former chore, keeping the hearth alight, was much less fun. It was the only thing that kept their creaky, drafty tenement house warm, but he had it drilled into him that he couldn’t just dump wood into it willy nilly, fuel was hard to come by, especially in the depths of winter. He had come to realize at an early age that his family could not afford simple things that others could. Yes, his belly was always full, and he would never lack for clothing, but he had noticed that his parents were thin, their clothing was patched and shabby. But they were happy together, with their matching set of wedding rings, the way they both told him he was destined for great things, and he could never deny that they loved him more than anything in the world.

And that’s why he did his best to use the least amount of fuel to keep the fire burning. He might not be able to bring in money, like his mother cooking, but he could help by saving a copper or two.

The door opened, bringing a gust of cold air as the tall lanky figure of Rupert Volkarin came in.

“Father!” He throws himself at the man who laughs, catches him and spins him around.

“How’s my little Emmi doin’?” He sets him down with an exaggerated groan. “Not so little now either, eh?”

“My name is Emmrich!” He pouts even as he still clings to him like a toddler. Unlike other nevarran children, he has no repulsion of the scent that permeates the man’s clothing. Yes, had heard enough from the older kids at school, the insults about his father’s profession. He really didn’t care. Sure, his father was a butcher, but that didn’t make him any worse than any father. He was just doing what he had to survive. He remembers seeing a Dalish Caravan passing through the countryside, and the way they revered the forest and trees, and yet they chopped down trees when need called for it.

“Well ‘Emmrich’,” his mother’s stern, yet loving voice comes from behind. Your father is tired, and probably wants to clean up before supper. Would you be a dear, and heat up some water in the kettle? Enough for the wash basin and to steep the tea?”

He nods as he runs over to the fireplace and shoves another log into the hearth, stoking the flames. His father walks over and embraces his mother, sweeping her in a tender kiss as they make their way up the narrow rickety stairs. He smiles at how much they adore each other. Some of his friends’ parents can’t seem to stand each other. Not his. They were so deeply in love, despite their humble situation. When he grows up, he’s going to find his special person. No matter what it takes.

He lugs the water to fill the kettle. It’s going to take a long time to heat it all up, and it’ll use up a lot of wood.

Emmrich thinks hard. He wants to go out with friends before bedtime, and he doesn’t want to use the precious fuel that his father and mother work so hard to afford. What if there was a way to…

His arm tingles, and he reaches towards the fire. He’s had dreams like this, urges to unlock something within him. That he could tap into the energies of his dreams, bring them to this world and create flames without using wood. He closes his eyes and tries to replicate the action he’s done while he slumbered.

Three things happen: An explosion of hot air, so powerful that it knocks him back across the room, into the wall.

The creak of the ceiling beam, always noisy on windy days, begins to shriek and crack..

And most alarming of all, a figure, cloaked and masked has suddenly appeared out of nowhere. The only distinguishing feature is piercing grey eyes that are locked on him.

The beam above him screams as it wrenches from its support and begins to plummet. He tries to shield himself with his arms, knowing that it will be in vain. He closes his eyes, waiting for the inevitable pain.

It never comes. Instead, he hears a grunt. He cracks his eyes open to see that figure standing over him, straining to hold the beam.

It’s hard to make out their features, aside from those grey, almost silver eyes.

“Emmrich…” their voice grunts out, clearly tiring from the effort. “The fire…put it out… it’s gonna spread.” Already flames are licking a fallen piece of plaster on the floor. He scrambles and takes the kettle of water and dumps the contents on the flames, smothering them and coating the room in darkness. Above the hiss of steam he hears the screams and protests of wood and masonry, the smash of pottery and glass. The world is literally crashing down upon him, and there is nothing he can do about it…he’s gonna die here.

He hears an anguished roar, and then arms grab him out in the darkness. More things fall as he feels himself rolling across the tilted floor. He’s reminded of the time when he got in a fight with one of the older kids at school, which led to them tumbling down a hill. Except instead of exchanging punches, this stranger holds tightly, shielding him from the impact of falling wood, plaster and brick. The sounds are terrifying to him, it’s like the world is about to end. But the mysterious stranger holds him tightly, shielding him from the worst of it.

After what seems like forever, the roar dies down to nothing, save for the pounding of his heart, and his laboured breathing. Two sets of laboured breathing.

“You alright?” There’s a voice on his right, and he turns to look, but sees nothing.

‘Oh yeah, you can’t see in the dark like me…not yet at least. One moment.” He hears the rustle of cloth, and then a snap, similar to the sound of an ember popping. A sudden blast of soft blue light illuminates the area. It takes him a few seconds to look around. They’ve managed to roll under the kitchen table, which is propped up against the wall like a tent. It gives him just enough space to move his limbs to let the blood flow moving, but little else. And there’s the other person, this mysterious cloaked figure, their eyes reflecting silver blue.

“You alright, Emmrich?”

Their voice is soft, and even through a whisper he can tell that she’s a woman, probably as old as his mother. Maybe one of her friends? But he’s never heard that voice before, even as he’s served tea when her neighbors come over to gossip. It’s hard and unyielding, but not unkind. It reminds him of his Uncle Bernard, a traveling mercenary, a voice that has seen much action.

“Fine.” He admits. Right now his heart is pounding heavily, thrumming so much blood that it still sounds like his house is collapsing around him. But she doesn’t need to know how utterly terrified he is. He’s eight years old, he’s brave and strong. He needs to distract himself.

“Who are you?”

She stills, then her eyes look to the side.

“You can call me… Rook”

“How do you know my name? I don’t remember meeting someone like you.”

She shifts uncomfortably, and those eyes dart away momentarily before returning to him. “I heard your mother call your name, something about heating up tea water.”

The thought of his mother suddenly makes him remember his parents. They’re upstairs, most likely in the bedroom. His mother is probably folding the fresh laundry, checking to see what clothes need mending, chiding his father for getting a particularly hard to clean stain out on his best shirt. He’d probably laugh and give her a kiss, and they’d forget all about the stains.

Surely they would have felt the floor collapse, and come out running… unless, the roof followed the floor and they were cru-

No, he thinks, they are searching for him right now. They wouldn’t let me stay here in the dark.

“Father?” He calls out into the dimly lit space. Nothing. “Mother?” The only response is the distant trickle of masonry.

What if they are hurt? He needs to go to them. He needs to help them. He’s not sure what he can do, but he needs to find them.

“Emmrich…” Rook's voice is soft and sad, and he doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like what it implies. He feels a surge of panic flow through him.

“I NEED TO FIND THEM! I NEED TO SEE THEM!” He moves quickly, kicking at the table above them, using all his weight to try to push the table up, to heave it so he can dig his way up and out. It was twilight when the collapse, there might still be light, the green veilfire lamps would just start being lit. He would be able to navigate his way to find his parents.

“Emmrich, no… stop!” Rook tries to force him back down, but he’s full of adrenaline. He won’t let this weirdo cloaked figure stop him from finding his parents. That same prickling feeling that he felt before flows down his arm. If he willed it, he could blast that table to smithereens, he knows it.

Suddenly, something shifts and the table comes down, carrying the weight of the house on it. Faster than he would ever expect, Rook rolls over to shield him, not that it would save him, he knows. They’ll both be killed by the collapse. For a brief moment, a terror fills him.

He doesn’t want to die.

A spark lights up, a green flash lights up the area, even overpowering the blue, and the collapse stops, mere inches from Rook's back, held up by a green bubble. He gasps, both in surprise, and then in exertion as it takes all his dwindling reserves of energy to keep the bubble up. He knows that it’s the only thing keeping him from getting crushed to death.

Rook, to her credit, wastes no time, and rolls off of him, finding anything, wood, brick, stone. Anything that will prop up the table, as he gasps and sweats at the effort.

“I think… I think you can let go now…” her voice is ragged, and he’s not sure what she means, but it doesn’t matter, whatever energy he had is sapped, and the last thing he remembers is her silver eyes shifting from reflecting green to blue before everything goes dark.

He wakes up groggy, like a nap cut short. Which is odd, he HATES naps. Naps are for little kids. But this… this feels comfy. He’s surrounded by a warm fluffy blanket that smells odd. He keeps his eyes closed, hoping that he’ll drift back to sleep.

Then he hears a voice, soft and gentle, speaking, her voice murmuring something as if it was a recitation.

“Let them be found worthy to pass through the veil,

Let them go into the Fade, hand in hand,

Free of trouble.

Free of pain

And let their memory endure in those that yet live”

It sounds solemn, and sad… he’s heard it before, but he can’t remember where exactly where or when.

He opens his eyes, expecting to see the wooden beams of his small bedroom ceiling, but instead, he sees, mere inches from his head, an unfamiliar wooden panel lit not by the warm light of the rising sun, nor of the green veilfire of the lamp outside his window. This is blue. He’s confused, and then feels the blanket moves on its own, a sharp intake of breath.

The past rushes back towards him, and his heart races.

“How long?” he croaks, his throat feels scratchy and dry, like cracked plaster.

“You’ve been asleep for probably a good six or so hours,” Rook’s voice explains as she pulls away from him. Was she holding him as he slept? He feels the chill seep into his bones almost immediately, and he longs for her to hold him again. It’s oddly comforting, considering he doesn’t know her at all.

“My parents-” he tries to talk, but he can’t, his throat feels so dry, he coughs, and Rook rustles around something in her cloak, and pulls out a squarish thing.

The sound of a lid being unscrewed, and her voice, equally raspy, orders him, “Take a sip. But only a small sip.”

He obeys, and feels some liquid that drips down his throat. It burns, causing him to cough, but there's a comforting hand on his shoulder, and her silver blue eyes regard him sympathetically. “Sorry, it’s just Anderfel Brandy. Not really the stuff a kid should be drinking, but it should be enough to wet your lips.” She’s right, that after the scorching heat burns his throat, it feels better, like a freshly plowed field that has the first shoots of wheat popping out.

“My parents,” he repeats, and she freezes just as she’s about to take a sip, “They haven’t come for me yet?”

She decides to forgo taking a swig, and screws the top before placing it in her cloak. “Emmrich…” she takes a soft intake of breath, before she looks him in the eye. “Your parents aren’t coming.”

That makes no sense, his parents would never abandon him. Surely his father is going through the ruins of their hours, screaming his name as he pulls the building apart brick by brick. His mother would be pushing aside old furniture, working her fingers bloody to scrabble her way to him. Unless… what Rook means is… no… she couldn’t mean that?

“You could find them!” he says hopefully, before clarifying, “You’re strong, I saw you hold up that beam! You can dig your way out of here! You can find them! You can…”

Rook's eyes look sad, and shakes her head. “I can’t…” Her voice is a strangled whisper. “Even if I was strong enough to move mountains, there’s no way I could bring them back…”

The way she says it, he can read between the lines. And the chill that was settling in now freezes the marrow in his bones.

“No…” he gives out a strangled denial, “they can’t be… can’t be…” the word goes unsaid, but it echoes in the air, bouncing off the bricks, the wood, the shattered pottery, the scattered knives his father uses as part of his despised profession.

Dead

He can’t breathe. His heart is beating so fast it feels like it's going to burst. His fingers are beginning to go numb, and he’s not sure if it's because of the cold. His parents are gone, beyond the reach of anyone, and he’s stuck here, in this cramped area with some stranger he can’t even see the face of, with his parents above him, their bodies crushed to…

“I can’t- I can’t-” he tries to tell Rook, but what air leaves his lungs is not replaced, and his whole body is now numb and cold. Maybe he’s dead already. Maybe he’s been squashed like a tomato by the house, and he doesn’t know it yet.

Maybe Rook is the Guide that Nevarrans talk about, the one who guides souls across the Veil, into the Fade. They’re supposed to be a cloaked masked figure that often travels on a black horse. It’s supposed to be comforting, to know in your final moments, you’re not alone. But to Emmrich, it's terrifying. He doesn’t want his parents to die. He doesn’t want to die. Not here, in the dark and the cramped space.

He doesn’t want to know that he did something that killed them all…

“Emmrich,” Rook's voice intrudes into his spiraling thoughts, and he feels warmth on his shoulder. “May I hold you…?” He nods numbly, and he feels warmth and feeling seep back into his body as she pulls him towards her, an embrace that is comforting and oddly familiar. It’s not the tight strong hugs his father gives him, or the soft encompassing hugs his mother gives, but he swears he’s felt it before… or maybe he WILL feel it. Which makes no sense. How can he know a sensation he won’t experience until the future? The weirdness of it all partially breaks the spiral of panic he’s been stuck in, and he’s able to take a gasping breath.

“Breathe with me,” she tells him, and he complies. “One breath in… hold it in…3…2…1, let it out. Breathe in again… hold… 3…2…1, let it out…”

They complete the cycle a dozen or so times, each one becoming easier. He can feel her heartbeat reverberating on his chest, fast but steady, and his heartbeat begins to match hers. He can’t help but clutch her cloak, and he feels something hard and cold in the fabric.

“Ah…she says,” and pulls away for a brief moment, after she thinks he’s calmer, and he hears a metallic ‘ clink’ . She shows what he found.

It’s a beautiful golden brooch. The shape of a grinning skull, with gems in its eyes that match Rook’s eye colour exactly. He’s entranced by it, the coolness of the metal that quickly warms at his touch, the sparkle that sends out out dazzling sparks of blue silver into the little cramped space, and for a brief moment, he thinks he’s laying out with his father on the roof of his home one summer night, looking up at the stars.

“You know,” Rook says as he plays with it. “It’s brought me great comfort when I was in trouble, just holding it kept me calm. Maybe…” she says with some effort, “maybe it’s time it helped you.”

His head snaps up. Surely she can’t be serious. He might not know much about how money works, but this brooch would probably cost more than his father earned in a year! And she just wants to give it to him?

“No..I can’t…” he tries to shove it back to her, but she is insistent.

“Keep it, Emmrich…Please” Her voice is sad, and so desperate, that he feels compelled. And as he nods at her, her eyes seem to sparkle like the gems in the skull.

Suddenly, there’s a pop, and the blue light goes out, the twinkling stars vanishing with it. A great cold darkness sweeps in.

He hears her mutter something, possibly a swear word as she seems pats down a pouch at her waist. “Spirits consume me! I don’t have any more Lyrium tablets…”

He can’t see anything now, and that panic that lay slumbering roars back to the surface. He’s going to die here, forgotten and alone. This place will be a tomb for him and his family. There will be no one to remember him. No one to perform the rites to send him and his parents into the Fade. His breathing becomes ragged and his heart begins picking up speed. He feels cold and clammy. His hands become numb, save for his left palm, which clutches the skull, and as he feels the texture, he swears it exudes a warmth from within. He tries to focus on it, that as long as he can feel it, it means he’s still alive.

Breath in… hold it in…3…2…1… let it out…

He’s not sure if she’s telling him to do that, or if he’s doing it on his own. All he knows is that she holds him tightly, curling her body around him, enveloping him with her softness and warmth/

“You will live, Emmrich, I swear it…” she whispers in his ear, her oath as certain as if it was written in Nevarran granite. “You will do great things. You will face almost insurmountable hurdles, and you will clamber over them. It will be hard, but you won’t be alone, even when you feel like you are. And I…” she stops herself. He tries to look up at where she is, tries to make out those silver grey eyes, and for a brief moment, he swears he can see them.

‘And I… ‘ what did she want to say? Why couldn’t she say it?

“Would you like to hear a story?”

He’s far too old for stories, but right now, aside from her embrace and the little brooch, her voice is the only thing that keeps him from panicking. He nods, and despite it being pitch black, she somehow can see him, because she starts talking.

“So, there was this group of people that joined to save the world…”

He dozes in and out while she tells the story. It’s not that it’s a boring story, far from it. But her voice is so entrancing, it lulls him to sleep. He suspects that was her intention. Every minute he sleeps, he’s conserving energy, he’s not panicking, he’s a minute closer to rescue. But he remembers snatches. There’s dragons, and a hero who hunts them. (He’s Nevarran, he can’t help but be entranced by stories about dragons.) The hero also can breathe fire. (Okay, now the story is not true. Dragons might have been gone for a long time, but at least they existed). There’s an Antivan Crow, who is possessed by a spirit of Determination that’s been tormented until it changed its nature. (That’s just silly, only mages can be possessed, and almost all of them turn into monsters) There’s a brave grey warden with his Griffon, a dwarf who can cast magic (now he’s getting insulted about this story. Everyone knows Dwarves can’t use magic!) An elf that can make old machines move on their very own, and a brave woman from Tevinter that uses her magic to help slaves escape their cruel masters. He doesn’t really hear about what happens, but he seems to think there’s a hole in the story, characters that don’t get mentioned but play a very important part. He doesn’t mind. He feels safe and warm in her arms.

She’s talking about a dragon that attacks Treviso, when she stops suddenly.

“Listen!” She hisses, and his ears prick up at the sounds of thumps, and is that… voices? Yes! There’s voices, muffled, but they are distinct, at least three of them.

“HEY! DOWN HERE! HELP US!” he yells, and resists the urge to kick at the table. It would be very unfortunate for him to get crushed when help is so close.

For a moment, there is silence. He panics, maybe he scared them off. Maybe they’re looters that fled. And then the thumps and voices increase volume and speed. He can even make out a few phrases

“I’m tellin’ you Lukas, I swore I heard a voice!”

“You’re probably drunk again…there’s no way anybody would be alive for so long down here!”

“I’M HERE!” he screams at the top of his lungs, “I’M NOT DEAD!” Another spell of silence!

“Caspar’s Bones! That’s Rupert’s boy! Keep diggin’ lads! Lukas, get your old lady over here with some blankets, and some of her soup. We’ve got a live one!” The thumping continues, and he can make out the sounds of grunts as masonry is chucked.

And then the darkness is dispelled by a hole, the size of his fist lets in the early morning sunlight. He scrabbles out of Rook’s arms, and presses his face against the hole, breathing fresh cold air.

There’s a gasp from the two men pulling the rubble away, he recognizes them as a couple of his neighbors.

“Emmrich? You alright lad?”

“YES, I WANT TO GET OUT OF HERE!” He’s on the cusp of tears, but not panicking. After everything, he just wants out.

“Patience lad…” the older one of the two. “We dig any more, we’re liable to have this whole thing crashing down on you and I. Give us a bit to get more people to help. Don’t worry, we ain’t about to abandon you,” his face grows sombre, “I owe your parents that much, at least.” The man disappears and there’s silence for the moment.

Emmrich doesn’t quite get what he means, but he’s waited hours so far, he can wait a bit longer.

“Rook!” He turns around to see her, “You were right! We’re gonna get out of here! We’re gonna li-” There’s something off about her, she seems to be glowing… like sparkles from the gems in the skull are within her.

“You’re right. You’re going to live. You’re going to survive. But…” she looks at her gloved hand, which he swears is see through, like a sheer curtain. “You’re going to have to do it without me… Her eyes glitter, but not because they are gems, it looks like she’s about to cry. “I don’t know what’s going to happen to me… but knowing that you’re alive makes it worth it…” She pulls him in close, as if to give him a hug.

Impulse takes over, and he grabs her mask off, revealing her face. He needs to see what she looks like, even for just a moment. Maybe he’ll recognize her! She reacts by yanking back, her hood falling off from the sudden motion, and he gasps. It’s not a face he’s ever seen before. It’s pale and silver strands of hair frame it. She looks… beautiful. Like a princess from one of those fairytales where the chevalier fights a dragon. Except, in her tale, she’s the princess braving the flames to slay the beast. He takes in every feature, from the tiny scar above her left eyebrow, to the dimple in her cheek. The way her hair shimmers like moonlight. He’s going to remember every little bit of her, he’s going to treasure it. And if she disappears, he’s going to find her.

“Oh Emmrich…” she says and there’s something in her voice, a sense of love and longing that is different from what he’s experienced from his parents.. She pulls him in one more time to hold him, and then he feels the oddest feeling on his forehead. It takes him to realize it's her lips giving him a gentle kiss. “We’ll meet again, I promise.”

And then a gust of winter wind blows through the hole, and she’s gone.

He doesn’t really remember much afterwards. Multiple hands grabbing rubble, yells to prop up stuff, the hole getting larger and larger, until it's big enough for him to scrabble through. There’s cheers, blankets, and a cup of hot soup thrust into his hands. It doesn’t taste half as good as his mother’s… speaking of which… he asks where his parents are, and no one says anything, won’t look him in the face.

That’s when he finds out he’s alone.

Uncle Bernard never shows up for the funeral, never comes to claim his nephew, and when his magic shows up a few months later, he’s promptly shipped off to the Circle. And when it is found out that he has a very particular set of magic skills, he gets shipped off again, this time to the Mourn Watch. The place terrifies him, these reminders of death, and it keeps him awake at night, awoken by nightmares of being crushed under the accusing bodies of his parents, blaming him for their deaths. And every time he wakes up in terror, he forces himself to calm down, he uses two familiar techniques.

Breath in… hold it in…3…2…1… let it out…

With a shaky hand he pulls out the golden skull, his greatest treasure, from his breast pocket, and strokes it, while he calms down and settles back to dreamless sleep.

Rook is an ever present thought in his mind. He searches census tomes the moment he has access, but comes up empty handed. He travels the Fade in his dreams working on a hunch that perhaps she was a Spirit. What type, he can’t say, her beauty transcends anything the Fade could offer. Nothing. He does find a Curiosity wisp that follows him around while he dreams, even deciding to cross the Veil to accompany him.

He makes friends with colleagues, including a brilliant but ethically challenged student. He falls in love. He falls out of love. His friendships cool, and he finds out about a way he can banish the fears of death, permanently. The path is long and arduous, but he is certain he can accomplish his dream.

He’s in his mid 20’s when he hears about a living newborn infant found by the undead in the long extinct Ingellvar family crypt. This curious fact, that the spirits inhabiting the undead were able to identify the infant, knew that the baby was in a precarious state without a living being to take care of her, and delivered the child to Vorgoth for safety, all on their own. It makes him wonder if he can create an undead that is able to learn and act independently .

He's getting tired. He’s getting old. He’s getting lonely. His best friend is gone, banished for pushing too far in her discoveries. His Curiosity wisp now has a body of his own, but it’s not quite enough for Emmrich. All that he can look forward to is taking that final, possibly fatal, step to Lichdom. Ironically, his fear of death is the reason he hasn’t crossed that last threshold. That and Rook… he still wants to find her.

He receives a letter from Myrna, stating that his knowledge is required for an urgent matter, that one of his long distance colleagues, a lovely elvish lady named Bellara will be coming to visit. He’s delighted, as she is full of curiosity and her intelligence for her young age astounds him.

‘Mourn Watcher Zea Ingellvar will be accompanying her as an escort’ Myrna adds in a postscript, ‘Due to the urgent matter Bellara will speak to you of, Ingellvar has been given limited privileges to return to the Necropolis. Please do not hold her previous actions against her’

He wasn’t planning to. Her actions in the War of the Banners were heroic and saved countless lives, and he’s always thought it was a travesty of justice to exile her, even if he’s never met her. He’s always admired people who thumb their noses at the living nobility. It’s why he and Hezenkoss got along so well before her expulsion.

Bellara is just as lovely and polite as he imagined, shaking his hand excitedly as her eyes glow with admiration.

“It’s an honour to finally meet you in person, Professor.”

“Please��” he insists, “Just call me Emmrich.” He has a sneaking suspicion he’ll have to remind her that multiple times.

“Oh," she jumps as if she just remembered something she has forgotten, "I should introduce my friend. Not sure if you’ve met, this is Zea Ingellvar”

His heart stops. That dimple. That small scar above her left eyebrow, the silver hair that shimmers like moonlight. The silver eyes that match the exact colour of the gems in the skull he keeps close to his heart. All this time, she’s been here, under his very nose.

“Charmed.” She greets him, the same voice that lulled him to sleep over forty years ago, “But you can call me Rook.”

After all this time, he’s finally found her.

#dragon age the veilguard #veilguard spoilers #emmrich volkarin #emmrich x rook #emmrook #my writing

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apotheotic-cravings · 2 years ago

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Redraws of some old ocs experiencing dog girl and catgirl related micro aggressions =)

#digital art #my ocs #artists on tumblr #original character #catgirl #dog girl #kemonomimi #kemomimi #ngl I think at a certain point it’s just a straight up aggression though #yes your honour they are girlfriends #oc names:#candy #clove #yes I was big into matching names at the time #I think their colour schemes were sposed to be paralleled too- that’s why you can see Clove’s boxers. so there’s a little splash of red #and candy’s skirt is black ofc #my art

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goblin-enjoyer · 3 months ago

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New secondary mission in life:spread vriska and magnus the red propaganda so I can see people who are better at drawing/writing making them interact. Bonus points for every 40k fan turned to homestuck fan as well and every homestuck fan turned into a 40k fan.

#not tagging this crabp(yes I say this in real life.note:not because of homestuck nor splatoon my username on steam is the crab and I say it>#during tf2 matches when stuff goes wrong or it becomes close and stressful) because this is the definition of a midnight brainrot post as it #is literally 4 am again and dang it I stayed up till 4 again poop #I know I had two cans of code red but that’s because I had to do the delve quest in wow before delve week was over #needed it for a horrible run with a idiot Druid tank. my knuckles hurt so bad trying to keep everything up #even after I unlocked zevkir or whatever his name is #turns out it was like a 10-20 item level jump that needed a interrupt #I am a warlock I cannot tank a boss and have my interrupt pet at the same time #I am a warlock I do not have the movement for his big stupid hitbox having slam attack #I am like 15 or so ilevels bellow 600 #I don’t have my fan on at the moment so I keep hearing an owl so that’s nice #and after turning in the quest you know what I got?#after just leveling up my staff too?#AN OFF HAND LAMP #I swear I wish there was a loot option for casters so we could decide on two handers or the other option idk what to call it im tired #I should try and clean up my trollsona #I should work on that huh #I heard its good to have multiple just Incase #that and not to be rude but my current one is a git to draw due to the mandibles and curly hair #curly hair is a git to draw well and im tired of being silent about it #oh wait that’s me I am being rude about my own sona #that’s odd #oh yeah the tag #here you go fans of my most popular tag[SARCASM]#midnight brainrot

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simpforboys · 27 days ago

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surprise!

drew starkey x fem!singer!reader

summary: ever since the reader started blowing up, all the interviews and promotions that would ask her who her celebrity crush is, she always had the same answer. so when Jimmy Fallon invites her on his show, he might have a surprise in store…

warnings: fluff!! second hand embarrassment, reader gushes about Drew, she’s just a fangirl at heart

‘perfume’ by del water gap mentioned <3

part two , part three, part four

2020

“Who’s your celebrity crush?”

“Drew Starkey, he plays Rafe in Outer Banks.”

“Do you have a celebrity crush?

“Yeah, Drew Starkey from Outer Banks.”

“Are there any people you would hope to collab with or meet?”

“Definitely Drew Starkey from Outer Banks.”

2021

“Last year you said multiple times Drew Starkey is your celebrity crush, is this still true?”

“Yeah, he’s still my main one.”

“Are there any guys you’re interested in?”

“My dream guy is Drew Starkey, if that’s what you mean.”

“What’s your type in a man?”

“Umm… probably Drew Starkey.”

2022

“Update us on all the boy drama! Anyone interesting?”

“Just waiting for Drew Starkey.”

“You look stunning! Are you here with anyone tonight?”

“No, I’m not.”

“Your crush around Drew Starkey, is that still a thing?”

“It still is… have you seen his new movie ‘Hellraiser’?”

2023

“Your new EP just released, are any of the songs about Drew Starkey?”

“Not on this one, no. Maybe the next one.”

“Are you seeing anyone? Has Drew Starkey called?”

“No, not yet. Maybe next year.”

“Have you seen season three of ‘Outer Banks’ yet?”

“Yes, oh my god! Drew looked so good.”

2024

“Your new song ‘Perfume’ is an absolute hit! Is it about Drew Starkey?”

“Omg, no, but it should’ve been.”

“You’ve quickly risen to fame! Has Drew Starkey noticed you yet?”

“Unfortunately, no. He’s probably hiding.”

Ever since your career started, in every single interview you get the question regarding celebrity crushes, the answer was always the same.

Drew Starkey.

It became a known meme revolving you and your fans, along with the media. Practically every interview just loved to teased you about your known celebrity crush.

Your popularity rose more in 2023 to 2024, so, when Jimmy Fallon reached out to you to have you on his show, your agency immediately agreed.

Standing behind the curtain wearing a tight brown suit, the pants wide-leg. Black boots were your choice of footwear, your makeup done perfectly to match the outfit.

“Ladies and gentlemen, bring your hands together for Y/n L/n!”

When Jimmy announced your name, you came out from behind the curtain, a big smile on your face as you waved to the audience.

Shaking hands and hugging some of the crew members before you finally hugged Jimmy, settling down in the blue chair.

“How are you doing tonight?” Jimmy asks with a warm smile.

“I’m doing good! Pretty nervous to be honest, this is my first talkshow.” You answered sincerely.

The audience clapped and Jimmy sunk back in his seat a little more.

“Well, I’m glad to be your first one! So, your new song ‘Perfume’ recently came out, congratulations on 200 million streams.”

“Thank you so much, really.” Your hands were shaking as you fidgeted with the brown fabric on your knee, one leg crossed over the other.

“So, you’ve been singing since 2020?” Jimmy asks.

“Yeah, I started posting videos on Tik Tok but my career really took off at the end of 2023 and now here we are.” You smile, the whole experience still so surreal.

“Your voice is phenomenal, seriously. I’ll need to have you come back and sing on the show for us.” Jimmy says, causing the audience to erupt into cheers.

You laughed a little, nodding your head. “Of course, anytime.”

Jimmy continued to talk to you for a few more minutes about your career, the conversation flowing smoothly as you cracked some nervous jokes.

“So, I have to ask, Y/n. Since your career began you’ve said your celebrity crush is Drew Starkey, can you tell us more about this?”

You felt your face get a little warm as you shifted in your seat, an anxious smile on your lips.

“I dunno, I guess I’ve just always found him attractive. He’s insanely talented and just seems like a very genuine soul.” You say sheepishly, avoiding looking at the camera.

“He’s also becoming more and more popular right now, with season four of ‘Outer Banks’ that came out in October and November along with his new movie ‘Queer’.” Jimmy adds on.

“Yeah, I’m a pretty big fan so I’ve been following along with it. I’m very proud of him, in like a supportive-fan way.” You say, making the audience laugh at the last part.

You were completely oblivious to Jimmy looking behind you, motioning with his hand underneath his desk.

“So it’s not just his looks?” Jimmy teases.

“I mean, he’s a very beautiful man. He looks good with any haircut especially that mullet he had last year — and oh my god, he just looked so good in season four of ‘Outer Banks.’ Plus he has these big biceps that just bulge out of any shirt.”

You hadn’t even realized you were gushing over your celebrity crush until you finally caught yourself, hearing the audience laughing.

“Oh, gosh. You are really into him, huh?” Jimmy teases.

“What would you do if he was standing right behind you?” The host asks.

If you weren’t so nervous from being on a national talkshow you probably would’ve understood his message.

But your brain caused you to miss it, being as oblivious as ever.

“Probably pass out.” You answered, hearing the audience giggle more. Jimmy had an amused grin on his face.

“Please don’t pass out.”

Your posture immediately straightened, body tense as you stood up from the seat.

Turning around, your heart dropped to your stomach when you saw Drew fucking Starkey standing there.

The audience’s laughter grew as well as Jimmy’s, clearly satisfied with the surprise.

Your hands went to cover your mouth, face feeling hot like you had a fever. You just gushed about this man practically to his face.

“Hi, Y/n. I’m Drew.”

You couldn’t respond, just in pure shock as you stare at the tall man.

Drew also looked a little sheepish, his cheeks pink as he grinned at you.

“Did you— did you hear everything?” You finally managed to choke out.

“Maybe.” Drew chuckled, scratching the side of his neck.

“How do you feel after hearing all that, Drew?” Jimmy chuckles.

“I’m honored,” Drew replies.

You hated the way he fucking said that and the way you understood that reference.

Drew held his hand out for you to shake, but your heart was beating too fast and your brain was turning into nervous mush that you just embarrassed yourself in front of your dream man.

“Are you going to shake his hand? Hug him?” Jimmy chuckled.

“I’m… scared.” You murmured, the audience swooning and giggling over your shyness.

“Can I hug you?” Drew asked.

Stunned, your head slowly nodded. His strong arms wrapped around your body, your forehead resting against his shoulder.

You couldn’t even hug him back properly, just too much in shock. He smelt like cologne and it made your knees weak.

“I love your new song, by the way.” Drew murmured softly in your ear.

“Yeah?” You whisper, feeling like an idiot for the way you were reacting in front of him.

Drew just nods and hums, soothingly caressing your back in an effort to calm you down.

“Ladies and gentlemen, give it up one last time for Y/n L/n and Drew Starkey!” Jimmy has to end the segment.

The audience cheers as Drew continues to embrace you.

He had known about you for the last few months, having a few of your songs in his playlists.

He was just constantly busy so he never really got the chance to reach out, but when Jimmy’s team contacted him about surprising you on the show, he was excited.

And nervous.

“Sorry about surprising you like that.” Jimmy comes over, causing you and Drew to finally pull away.

“You gave me trust issues for talkshows now.” You said jokingly, finally calming down a bit.

Drew and Jimmy both laughed softly.

The film crew told you and Drew that the commercial break would be ending soon so to step off stage.

You did your signature on the wall dedicated to Jimmy’s guests, feeling familiar blue eyes gazing at you.

After thanking each crew member and shaking hands or hugging, an assistant pointed you and Drew towards where a car will take you both back to your perspective hotels.

“You ready?” Drew asked you.

You nodded, feeling nervous due to the fact that you were about to be alone in the back of a car with your celebrity crush, other than the driver in the front.

Drew opened the door for you as you climbed in, hyperaware of how he slid in behind you onto the leather seat.

It was quiet for a few moments, you nervously fidgeting with the rings on your fingers.

“So… you like my new song?”

You finally manage to choke out.

Drew smiled softly, turning his head to look at you. He was still a little flustered at everything that happened, but also very amused.

“I do, yeah. Are you going to shoot a music video for it?” Drew asked.

You nod, making eye contact with him.

“Yeah, my idea is to tell a story about these two lovers who move to like a quieter part, I was thinking either the forest or a desert, that live in poorer conditions but are completely happy and content because they have each other. I want it to be full of love, so kissing, affection, a sex scene.”

You rambled on to him, your eyes falling to your hands as you played with your rings.

“Oh, wow. That sounds cool as fuck.” Drew murmured, also watching your hands fidget. He thought it was cute.

“I’ve had the idea in my head for a few years, actually. I started writing ‘Perfume’ in like… 2021? So, I just want everything to be perfect.”

You added on, looking back at him. He had his left leg crossed over his knee, his body language towards you.

“Well… if you need a male costar, I would love to do it.” He gave you a smile.

A small grin curled onto your lips, stomach hurting at realization of what he just implied.

“Yeah?”

He nodded, licking his lips.

“Mhm. I told you, I love the song. Plus, your idea sounds amazing, and if you want me to, I would love to be apart of it.”

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat when it finally hit you that Drew fucking Starkey wanted to be your on-screen lover.

“You’re not just fucking with me, right?”

You had to ask, blurting it out of your nervous mouth.

Drew just snorted, shaking his head in amusement. “No, I’m not.”

“Okay… I’ll have my manager reach out to your’s about details for when we start shooting. I appreciate it a lot.”

You were unaware the car finally came to a stop, parked outside your hotel, fans and security guards waiting for you.

“Yeah, I’ll definitely be there. Have a good night, Y/n.”

Drew smiled at you, your heart fluttering.

“You too, Drew.”

You got out of the car, letting the security guards guide you inside the hotel. You tried your best to take photos or sign autographs for your dedicated fans, something Drew admired as he watched from the back of the SUV.

By the time you finally got back into your hotel room and kicked off your boots, you started taking off your jewelry.

Flopping down onto the bed, you grabbed your phone.

It felt like your heart dropped to your stomach when one notification specifically caught your eye.

@/drewstarkey started following you back

#simpforboys #drew starkey x female reader #drew starkey x you #drew starkey x y/n #drew starkey fluff #drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey x singer!reader #drew starkey angst #drew starkey smut #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron imagine #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey fic #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you

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saphronethaleph · 7 months ago

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Soresu Negotiations

“Get help,” Palpatine said. “You’re no match for him. He’s a Sith Lord.”

Obi-Wan turned to look at the Chancellor. “...yes?” he said. “But he’s also something else – something I’m surprised you’ve forgotten.”

“What?” Palpatine asked.

“A politician,” Obi-Wan replied, turning back to Dooku.

Anakin groaned, then sat down.

“Here we go,” he said.

Palpatine blinked, looking from Anakin to Obi-Wan.

“...what do you mean, Anakin?” he asked.

“This happens sometimes,” Anakin replied. “How do you think he got his nickname?”

“Count,” Obi-Wan said, at about the same time. “It’s occurred to me that I never actually found out what the Confederacy wants.”

“Isn’t it a little late for this?” Dooku asked. “We have been at war for several years.”

“True,” Obi-Wan conceded, readily. “The war having started on Geonosis, because of tracing back your clone army which we… appear to have appropriated, mostly because you did it in our name. But that’s how the war started – not your objectives.”

Dooku was silent for a moment.

“I assume some semblance of a point will be emerging,” he said, eventually. “If you could be so kind as to provide it?”

“Wars begin for all sorts of reasons,” Obi-Wan replied. “But how they end… they end because a mutual settlement has been reached. And it’s occurred to me that I don’t know what you’d want out of a victory.”

He spread his hand, the one not holding the – unlit – saber. “It’s not the conquest of the Republic, I can tell that much. If the CIS annexed the Republic, what you’d have would still be the Republic, just under a different name… it’s not the Republic without the corruption that’s been causing it problems, because most of the corruption in the Republic was – was – the big industrial concerns like the Techno Union, Commerce Guild, Trade Federation. But you seem to have taken all of those off our hands, and they provide essentially your entire military so I don’t think anyone else could honestly believe that either.”

“I wouldn’t expect a Jedi to understand,” Dooku replied. “The Confederacy’s member systems have concerns relating to over-centralization.”

Obi-Wan stared at him for a long moment.

“...no they don’t,” he said.

“I hardly think you can have earned your reputation as a negotiator, Kenobi, if you are so willing to be insulting,” Dooku said, archly.

“That’s not what I mean,” Obi-Wan replied. “I mean… yes, now the Republic has an army, though really it’s actually the Jedi’s army and we’re simply letting them borrow it, but four years ago the Galactic Republic was proverbially incapable of doing anything. It took emergency powers for the Chancellor to get the Republic to authorize having any kind of military whatsoever – and the only one available was the one you ordered. That’s not over-centralization.”

He drummed his fingers on his ‘saber. “And I note that I overheard Nute Gunray insisting on the head of Senator Amidala – literally, in those words – as his price for signing a treaty. But I still haven’t heard an actual answer. What does the Galaxy look like if the Confederacy wins?”

Dooku frowned, and after about three seconds Obi-Wan glanced at the Chancellor.

“Didn’t you discuss this at any point, your excellency?” he asked. “Count Dooku doesn’t seem to have thought about this.”

Palpatine blinked.

“...he’s a Sith Lord,” he repeated. “Shouldn’t you be fighting him?”

“It’s called diplomacy, Chancellor,” Obi-Wan replied, before returning his attention to Dooku. “Grandmaster, are you seriously telling me that you never thought about what you would do if you won?”

Anakin checked his comlink, for the time, then the ship trembled slightly.

“Artoo?” he asked. “Can you tell those ships outside to stop shooting at us and give us a wide berth? This could take hours and I don’t want to find out if my name’s literal.”

“Hours?” Palpatine repeated.

“He’s rolling,” Anakin replied, rolling his eyes. “Like I say, I’m used to this.”

He rummaged in a pocket of his robes, taking out a miniature toolkit, and began disassembling his lightsaber. “I’m pretty sure I can retune these crystals to give two stable configurations which it’ll snap between, that should give me a length toggle instead of a single adjustable length…”

“Are you taking your lightsaber apart?” Palpatine hissed. “What if you need to fight?”

“It’s okay, Chancellor, I’ll get about five minutes’ warning if the negotiations are going downhill,” Anakin replied. “That should be time to put it back together again…”

Palpatine looked up to Obi-Wan, who – sure enough – was still going.

“...of course, a separate but related issue is what it’s going to be like afterwards,” Obi-Wan said. “In principle the Republic and the Jedi Order could probably accept the existence of Sith so long as we actually knew who they were and they weren’t trying to destroy us. It’s the fact that the first Sith we met in a thousand years tried to run Anakin over and cut Qui-Gon’s head off as an opening move that’s soured us towards them a bit… but are you really going to be content as someone whose whole job is to die for Sidious?”

Dooku stared at Obi-Wan, baffled, then glanced at Palpatine and Anakin.

“What do you mean?” he asked, forcing his gaze back to Obi-Wan.

“Sidious is your Master, we know that much,” Obi-Wan replied. “Partly because you told me yourself. But has he ever put himself in danger? Or has it all been you dealing with Jedi like myself and my apprentice? Putting yourself out there, in danger, while you do exactly what he says?”

He smiled slightly. “A Jedi would accept that, but you’re a Sith – you’ve said so yourself. Sith are self-interested. What do you think your new master is getting out of the situation? Because if you don’t know, it’s got to be something and it’s probably something he doesn’t want to tell you.”

“My master is quite willing to put himself in danger,” Dooku said, then clamped his lips shut at a frantic mouthed shut up from Palpatine.

“Real or feigned?” Obi-Wan asked. “Do you think he wouldn’t manipulate you? He’s been doing it to everyone else – you’ve said it.”

Dooku’s brow furrowed.

“But we’re getting off topic,” Obi-Wan said, turning to look at Palpatine. “Chancellor, what about this as a starting point? Your emergency powers were granted to resolve the crisis, and I’m sure you want to abandon them as soon as possible… so why not take away the whole reason why the individual systems in the Confederacy had problems with the Republic to begin with? Freely allow the departure of any system which wishes to do so, under the emergency powers legislation; enact a progressive tax, one which hits the Core worlds harder owing to their greater ability to pay, to sustain a carrier based navy able to hunt pirates more effectively than conduct occupations or orbital bombardment, and have the navy established on a sector-federal two-level model?”

Palpatine stared at Obi-Wan for at least ten seconds.

“...he’s a Sith Lord,” he said, yet again.

“Oh, shut up,” Dooku replied. “You’re a Sith Lord and I don’t see you doing anything constructive.”

Obi-Wan glanced at Palpatine.

“...you know,” he began. “I’m quite sure you’d need to note that on your financial disclosure forms, your Excellency.”

He turned sideways, so he could see both Dooku and Palpatine at the same time. “What was the point of this whole abduction, anyway?”

“As it happens, I was supposed to kill you,” Dooku said. “It’s the only way to turn Anakin to the Dark Side, if you’re out of the way.”

“Huh?” Anakin asked. “Is something up? I’ve almost got the crystals realigned.”

“This plan looked a lot better this morning,” Palpatine muttered.

#star wars #anakin skywalker #palpatine #obi wan kenobi #count dooku

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arminsumi · 1 year ago

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THE HORNIEST

↳ GOJO さとる + fem!reader

Summary : Horny!Gojo needs you so bad, he's insatiable. A menace.

Warnings : minors do not read/interact : smut/explicit content, it's very horny lol, not proofread, c*mshots and creampies, unprotected sex, multiple rounds, implied drunk sex

Note : lmk if you want more horny gojo lol 👍 reqs open!! anyways lol the title cracks me up. he ain't the strongest he's the horniest :(

Horny!Gojo introduces himself to you in the flirtiest way possible, cooing a sweet and drunk "Who invited the goddess?" into your ear. He's sat on the couch with you, one night at a stupid frat party. Starstruck by you. And your reciprocation made his chest feel fluttery for the first time in years. It also made his dick stand up in his pants.

Horny!Gojo leans into you for the whole night, whispering flirty things and dirty jokes into your ear like his mind is a factory pumping them out. You match his playful energy so well, he says "I think we're made for each other."

Horny!Gojo has his sharp eyes wandering to your thighs, then your shoulders, then your lips as you speak — and he licks his lips to wet them.

Horny!Gojo showers you in compliment after compliment, relishing in your reactions and getting greedier; he needs to get you alone. "Wanna go someplace quieter?" he has to shout over the music to ask you.

Horny!Gojo assures you with cocky confidence, "Yeah, I could make you cum. Aw, don't give me that eyeroll, it's turning me on. I know for a fucking fact I could make you cum. I could make those eyes roll back. I could make your legs shake."

Horny!Gojo squeezes your hand tightly when he leads you upstairs, and giggles with you as the two of you escape into a quiet, empty bedroom. His heart is panging so hard in his chest. His body feels electric. He's so horny it's the only thing he can focus on.

Horny!Gojo whimpers when you crash your lips into his. He starts making out wildly with you like he's a sex-deprived loser. Because he is. A sex-deprived, touch-starved college boy.

Horny!Gojo hits those deep, hard strokes with no breaks just to destroy you. He never lets up. Never stops to have a breather or lets you catch your own breath. "Working up a sweat b—abyyy? Too much dick stuffing your little cunt? Yeah? Is it too much? Too big? Too deep? Fuck, you're gonna squeeze my dick off, haha, calm down. It's just a little dirty talk."

Horny!Gojo murmurs into your ear, "All I wanna do is make you finish over and over again." desperation and conviction in his voice. He really just wanted to fuck you into bliss, have you dumb on his fat cock, have you squirming and whimpering and going feral for him.

Horny!Gojo pins you down like a beast but also pounds into you like he's the bitch in heat. "Oh my god oh my god yes yes yes fuck fuck fuck fuck fuckkkk that pussy's so fuckin' gooooodddd" he's a mess, just swearing and moaning like a broken record.

Horny!Gojo almost sobs your name into your mouth when he cums, draining every drop of cum that he's worked up for you in the past hour.

Horny!Gojo turns his creampies into whipped cream with his thrusts, smacking his hips so hard into you that you feel his balls slap against your ass. They're so heavy and full, makes you think that if you weren't on birth control you'd definitely get knocked up with just one of his fat nuts.

Horny!Gojo goes round after round, becoming a melting sweaty mess of a man and feeling his muscles tire out. He pins you to the bed with his whole weight, and gives you his all just to show off a little.

Horny!Gojo has such a strained but enthusiastic voice after fucking you into next year with his dick. "Wow... that pussy's so fucking creamy." he grins toothily. A sweat drop beads off his cheek. His bangs are stuck messily to his forehead, some brushed to the side.

Horny!Gojo is insatiable, he calls you long after the party, over and over, shows up at your door and relishes in how his horniness rubs off on you. He's always a giggly mess in bed with you.

Horny!Gojo needs you so bad some days that he comes to you straight after his workout at the gym, no shower just sweaty gym boy abs, and fucks you as a way to "push his limits" for like three hours.

Horny!Gojo needs to cum everywhere he can. It's like he has a cumshot checklist. Thighs? Yes. Tummy? Yes. Ass? Yes. Chest? Yes. Face? Yes. Pussylips? Yes. Hands? Yes. In your panties? Yes.

Horny!Gojo is so fucking cute when he kisses you after sex, nuzzling your neck like a cat and telling you how good you treat him with that five star pussy.

Horny!Gojo jerks himself alone when you can't come over :( always to you, of course. Sexts like a menace. He's a bit too good at it.

Horny!Gojo gets so pussy drunk sometimes that he begs you to become his wife. His dick feels so raw and sensitive but he keeps squeezing it into that tight hole of yours.

Horny!Gojo is obsessed with you, mind body and soul. Just the sight of you and sound of you makes his dick stand up. And then he's whisking you off your feet and frantically throwing you onto the bed, and you're giggling at your horny boyfriend— oh... when did that happen? Hm. Well now he's your boyfriend.

Do not plagiarize / repost / translate / copy layouts / etc.

Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

#smut #mdni #gojo #gojo smut #gojo x reader smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x reader smut #gojo x fem reader smut #gojo x fem reader #gojo x reader #satoru gojo #gojo x you #gojo satoru #gojo saturo #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu gojo #jjk gojo #gojou satoru x reader

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faesdreaming · 13 days ago

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cardinal concept

yandere platonic batfam with a resurrected reader

a/n: because as much as i love neglected reader, dead (then alive again) reader just has so much potential

the dynamic duo, batman and robin. bruce wayne and dick grayson. then, you came along; a result of bruce’s irresponsible coupling with a young woman he’d long since forgotten about. you grow up in the nastier parts of gotham with your mother, where you’re forces to grow up faster and become more mature, until she has an accident.

after you’re mother’s untimely death, you find yourself under his care. bruce is hesitant and unsure, he’s already struggled with raising dick. he doesn’t want to fail you too. he dances around telling about batman until you happen upon the batcave, at your insistence and a few instances of you following them, he relents and lets you join.

suddenly, it’s batman, robin, and cardinal.

bruce is initially unsure what to do with you, even after you become cardinal. unlike with dick, who needed to become robin lest he go down a darker road, you’re only cardinal because of him. it draws out an agonizing guilt, causing bruce to practically coddle you. but you’re emotionally intelligent, in a way bruce isn’t, you’re able to communicate with soft words and gentle reasoning instead of shouting matches and tearful pouting like your brother. you’re his angel, his sweet, understanding angel. it reminds him of his own mother. you’re kind, empathetic disposition is everything bruce needs in his life. because yes, to him, your brother needs his guidance. but bruce needs yours.

as for dick his relationship is with you as simple as this: he’s the big brother and you’re the little sibling. you can fight and argue, but you two always make up and head off to snuggle or play. you’re bond grows stronger the more time you spend on patrol— having each other’s back, getting into trouble with batman— or at school— although you’re in a younger grade, you still see your big brother at school and go to him when you have problems— or at home— snuggled up, watching a movie and eating snacks provided by alfred— you two are extremely close.

you’re little of family of four— including alfred, of course— is tight-knit. you fight and argue but always make up and you’re always there for each other.

until dick becomes nightwing and a scruffy teen named jason todd joins you. as close as you are with your older brother and father, you bond with him far quicker. maybe it’s because of how close you are in age, or maybe it’s because of your shared past experiences.

the family dynamics shift and change, but that isn’t necessarily a bad thing. dick grows more distant, going off with the titans. but that’s to be expected, he’s grown up now. you still visit him, of course. and he still pops by to see you. bruce, you notice, softens, almost. he’s grown accustomed to parenthood. jason is your favourite change, though. a sibling close in age, but still younger, so can justify (playfully) bossing him around. your family isn’t perfect, but it’s yours and you love it.

then, jason and bruce start fighting. dick goes off world. a fight with bane leaves you injured and out of commission. it’s just a rough patch, you tell yourself. until, suddenly, jason’s birth mother contacts him. something’s off about it. you want to tell your dad, however, jason is adamant you shouldn’t. reluctantly, you don’t, opting to go along with him just in case.

your gut, as it turns out, was right. you’re injured and unable to do much as the joker captures you and jason. you’re helpless to watch as your brother, your sweet baby brother, is beaten mercilessly with a crowbar. your voice is hoarse from screaming during your own beating and your body is sore, but despite it all, you still rasp out pleas to let your brother go. one child will be effective enough. the joker can spare one. of course, in his cruelty, he doesn’t.

you’re left aching, battered, and bruised. the ticking of the bomb serves as the count to your death. jason, brave jason, tries to gather enough strength to get up. and maybe, just maybe, he could escape if he weren’t focused on trying to save you. he won’t listen to your pleas for him to go, to leave you behind. he’s adamant upon accompanying you to your doom.

you hear the final ticks. with all the strength you have left, you move towards him. you cannot save yourself. you cannot save him. all you can do is die beside him. pressing your forehead to his, the last thing you see is your little brother’s face before the final tick sounds and the ensuing explosion consumes you.

and that’s the end of it, your journey, your life. you’re buried alongside your brother in a sombre ceremony, your uniform cased in glass as a memorial to bruce’s failures. he becomes angrier, loses himself. he’s lost two of his children and is fighting with his only remaining one. dick, is utterly furious, with himself and bruce. he blames bruce. for letting his precious siblings die, for starting them all of this heroic crusade. he blames himself for not being there, for being distant with you and jason.

alas, time marches forwards and batman needs a new robin, in the form of one tim drake. he’s a clever kid, one way too smart for his own good. one you used to babysit while his rich parents were away to earn some extra cash. it wasn’t right, leaving him with no one his age to play with. so, when you could, you’d come over. you’d soothe his loneliness. and for that, he’s forever grateful.

your influence continues beyond your death. for you life has impacted so many. barbara gordan, for example, who viewed you akin to a little sister. who fought alongside you as batgirl. you were loved by many as (Y/N) Wayne. your friends and family still hold candles for you. even as they accept your lose, they never stop fully grieving for you and the lost potential brimming inside you. then, there are those who you impacted as cardinal. as a hero, you saved numerous lives, including that of one stephanie brown, who will forever feel indebted to you and strives to become just like you.

the justice league, who knew you as one of the first sidekicks, who functioned like extended family, mourn deeply for your loss and offer sympathies to your father and brother. they will remember you and your tenacity, carrying on their pursuit of justice with you in mind. certainly villains, such as poison ivy and even harley quinn, are enraged with the joker. while you could occasionally be a pain, you were their favourite kiddie hero. and of course the likes of selina kyle and talia al ghul, your father’s paramours, women who became like family to you.

cardinal will be forever immortalized in the hearts of heroes and villains alike, your legacy of compassion and kindness living on in memories transformed into stories, your death a testament to sacrifice and love and heroism— except, that isn’t how it ends, is it? no. your story doesn’t end with your death, it’s how it begins.

and your real story begins by waking in the constricting confined of your casket, bursting out with inhuman strength, fueled by the adrenaline boost, and digging your way out of your grave, the cool mud giving way to harsh ground until you break through the service. that night, that stormy gotham eve, is the day you are reborn.

you flee then wander the streets of gotham until you regain your mind. you remember, you remember everything and you, you don’t want to go back. not to your family, not to your friends, not the life you once knew. you were given a new life. and this life, you would live for yourself.

sans your old attachments, you live encumbered, untroubled by past woes. yet, you seem to forget your festering memory, the mark you’ve left on people. you forget that while you may be willing to leave your old life behind, they aren’t as willing to let you go. especially when they learn you’re within reach.

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fulloflambing · 2 months ago

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࣪ . ִֶָ๋ CAPITANO: husband headcanons ♡

pairing: capitano x afab!reader/you warnings: reader is addressed as 'wife', canon and modern!au cho's note: the kinich one did rlly good, so now lets try it with our big boi hehe. happy reads everyone! lmk if u guys want an nsfw ver. of either/both characters ;3

this man is the definition of YEARNING.

he wasnt comfortable with the label of him being your boyfriend. with all his eternal affection and love for you? to just be a mere boyfriend? absolutely not. he just HAD to be your husband. proposed the moment he realized he loved you.

definitely proposed with a big stone :p

wears his ring 24/7 and kisses it whenever your not around and he misses you dearly.

he abuses the power of his mask and never misses the chance to stare and just admire your beauty. underneath his mask his eyes are full of love and admiration for you.

discreetly clingy. if your going out somewhere he wants to go with you 'to keep you safe' or he 'needed to pass by that area later anyway'.

hates taking off his helmet, but never stops you from sliding it off of his head to shower him with praise.

his nicknames for you are my love, dear, darling, prince/princess

his love language for you is physical touch, and words of affirmation

his favorite spots to kiss you on is your forehead, lips, the palm of your hands and your knuckles.

engraved your initials into his sword, and because of that he makes sure he takes good care of it always.

his kisses are always slow and intimate.

he is a quick-kisses or pecks HATER. he has to kiss you for atleast 10 seconds. he doesn't care if hes late, if theres someone right infront of you— he kisses you like its the last time, everytime.

more of a listener than a speaker

he likes to go on dates or do activities with you where you both have to talk to eachother a lot. like fine dining dates, late night walks or driving!

very touchy in private. he likes to snake his arm around your waist, pull your hair to the side and kiss the back of your neck.. hes just addicted to praising and carressing your body.

ever since he married you, he absolutely despises overtime. he gets bossier and meaner to his subordinates when he realizes he might have to stay a little later to supervise them. sometimes he even leaves his job or his expeditions early just to get home to you.

frequently brings you gifts. a bouquet of rare flowers, a jewelry set with special ore customized just for you, lavish wine.. you name it.

never wants to argue with you. the second you tell him he's wrong, he just immediately agrees with you, spewing "yes ma'am." "your absolutely right. i didn't think of it properly.. apologies my love."

ever since he married you, he likes to subtly flex he has you as his wife.

"Sorry, i must end this conversation early. My wife is waiting on my presence." and you can just HEAR how cocky he is to say that.

writes you longgggg letters when he has to get away from business for awhile.

regarding his letters, he made you scribble/draw a design which he got custom made to become his wax seal for said letters :) a very keen man

got you a coat matching his own!

when your crying, he likes to hug you in silence, just letting you soak him in your tears. when you've calmed down, he tells you hes there to listen if you want to talk about your feelings, and theres no problem of yours hes not willing to help you solve. in his mind, your pain is his own, and he'll always be there to support you through any troubles.

very possessive. he wants people to know your his, and hes yours.

princess treatment on TOP. carries you easily when your tired of walking, idly massages your hands or feet when your both lounging together, regularly brings you flowers

during misunderstandings, he likes to take a minute of silence to compose himself and his thoughts to make sure he doesnt say anything he doesnt mean

likes to properly sit down with you to talk out problems between the both of you, and keeps an open mind. he doesnt rush you or cut you off when your talking about your feelings, and lets you know hes present and he cares about how you feel

takes extra time and effort after an argument to remind you he loves you.

overall, capitano is a very romantic lover despite his cold resolve, and honors your wishes with his life.

#▸ ✧ ˚ services #genshin impact #capitano #capitano x reader #capitano headcanons #capitano x you #capitano x y/n #capitano imagines #genshin impact fatui

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kathaynesart · 5 months ago

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Took a bit of time to myself to finally sketch out my vision for Frida based off Andy Suriano’s Farewell. More design thoughts under the cut.

I know some were wary of her appearing too feminine, but honestly I enjoyed the challenge of finding a way to feminize the base turtle model and stay true to Andy’s wonderful design. I don’t want her to just look like her brothers in a show that embraces their differences.

The biggest thing I added to her design was an exposed heart. My own little twist inspired by a real life issue some turtles deal with as well as a fitting ode to the artist she is named after, Frida Kahlo, who often drew herself with her heart floating outside of her body. (And yes I made the creative decision to keep her heart at her center as with many turtles.)

This deformity occurred during her mutation where the sudden growth spurt tore open a hole at the seam of her plastron. She has survived as long as she has because of Big Mama who uses mystic wards to keep her heart physically safe and emotionally numb. If you look closely to her plastron in the show it’s not actually a natural body part but rather seems to be an attachment of her trench coat. Likely a false cover to hide her obvious weak spot (or at least that is my head canon!)

I love the idea of her and Donnie having something they can relate to and I’m sure he’ll be happy to design chest armor for her down the line once she’s free of Big Mama. Maybe someday I’ll figure out her full Mad Dogs outfit, but for now this is just her base and bandana.

As each of the boys embodies a shape, I found it all too fitting to have Frida’s be a heart. It’s honestly a cool shape that uses both rounded forms and sharp points, which I think would encapsulate her character well. Prickly on the surface but a softy deep down. I tried to find less typical ways of feminizing her. Sharpening her beak and digits while retaining the style of feminine eyes present in most of the female cast but matching it more closely to the unsettling shape of the eyes on her assistant’s mask.

Her markings are a color flip of Mikey’s, where as his are yellow spots with orange outlines hers are orange with yellow outlines. Coupled with her yellow eyes to match Donnie and Raph, it gives her this fiery vibe that I think still sets her far apart from Mikey.

The mask was honestly the hardest part. I love that it further accentuates her heart motif and made her more expressive, but just giving her the obvious bow and calling it a day did not sit well with me. I decided to try more of a high ponytail look, but I think it still needs some work. I’m pretty sure I like her with yellow though, both as a nod to Jennika and the idea of April giving her something of her own to help form the bond between the two.

Would love to flesh her out further but back to my usual stuff first.

#rottmnt #frida rottmnt #tmnt 40th anniversary #TMNT #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the TMNT #unpause rise of the tmnt #save rottmnt #character design #character reference #Frida hamato #Frida #big mama’s assistant #kathaynesart #cw heart #exposed organs #exposed heart

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scorpiosbite · 14 days ago

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when actress!reader and drew made it official

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 ────୨ৎ──── after casually seeing each other for a few months after that first hook up after the club and then going on that first date, you and drew finally make it official.

𝜗𝜚 pairing: actress!reader x drew starkey

author’s note: this takes place in october 2024, at this point actress!reader and drew have been seeing each other casually for a few months, after their hook up and subsequent date in LA. actress!reader is currently in the midst of filming Anora.

you were holed up in your LA home that you were renting while living LA for the filming of your new movie Anora. it was your day off and you were going to spend it rotting at home and swimming in your pool. you’re a big homebody, although people assumed that you were someone who was always going out, you weren’t, going out for non-work related reasons was a rare occurrence. it’s not like you don’t enjoy going out, you do. but going to clubs and parties was something that you enjoyed once in a while, for special occasions and with the right people. and if you were being honest it got repetitive. going to parties, getting drunk, surrounded by people you don’t know or care about. you would much rather spend your time at home and be able to truly be yourself. you were sinking further and further into the plush couch in your living room, your book propped on your knees. when your phone rang.

drew calling…. accept?

you smiled lightly at the sight of his name lighting up your screen, you let it ring for a beat before you answered, wanting to torture him for a bit. “hey.” the greeting came out like a sigh, almost as if the thought of him relaxes your mind and body. “hey, baby.” you grinned and your cheeks flushed at the low tone of his voice, god everything about him was sexy, and you could see the smirk dancing on his lips through the phone, like he could feel the effect he has on you. “what are you doing today, pretty girl?” you hummed glancing at the time on the clock, ten am. “nothing ‘m just gonna chill at home, maybe go swimming, weather’s nice in LA.” drew chuckled, a low rumble, that sent shivers up your spine. “not like london, huh?” you giggled lightly, “yea, not like london.” drew made a noise of agreement. “you mind if i come over?” your fingers played with the band of your shorts. “what if i say, yes, i do mind?” drew snorted, you could hear him shuffling in his seat. “i’m just gonna come over anyway.” you rolled your eyes, playfully. “creep.” you retort, and he laughed, a sound that came from his chest and made your heart jump. “i’ll be there in ten, baby.” you bit your bottom lip in anticipation. “mhmm hmm.”

you were still laid up on the couch, reading your book when your doorbell rang, you smiled before making your way to the door, pulling it open. drew stood in the frame, dressed in a plain white t-shirt and baggy black cargo pants, his buzzed hair now grown out in a baby mullet, fuck he looked good. his hands were locked behind his back and he gave you a crooked smile, his tongue pushing into his cheek, and his cheeks turning a light shade of pink as he gave you a once over. suddenly you were reminded of your lack of clothing and you felt you face heat up in turn. drew’s eyes raked over you, running over your tight black boy shorts with a cute little bow on the front and then your black bandeau top with the little matching bow on the middle of the upper hem. after what felt like eternity, you cleared your throat. “you wanna keep looking at me, or come in?” drew smirked, unashamed of being caught staring, well it wasn’t like he was trying to be subtle. “hello, to you too, y/n.” he teased in a slightly sarcastic tone. you rolled your eyes at him, but couldn’t fight the smile that creeped onto your face. you led him to your living room, his eyes unabashedly staring at your ass while you walked, and you may have purposely swung your hips a little more than usual for him.

now, you and drew were laid up on your couch together, he sat with his legs spread, his arms resting on the top of the couch, you were laying against his side, you head rest on his shoulder, and your knees bent, toes brushing against the side of his thigh. drew’s hand came down to play with your hair and you snuggled your face closer into him. “how was filming yesterday?” you sighed “long, i had a lot of pole dancing scenes to film.” drew leaned his head back, letting out a groan. “why would you tell me that?” you chuckled, you had noticed this effect you had on him, and adored using it to your advantage. deciding to make it way worse you turned your head, so that you could whisper directly into his ear. “they had me dressed in barely anything, drew.” you whined, he shot up, picking you up with ease and throwing you over his shoulder. “that’s it. we’re going swimming.” you giggled loudly, punching his back, and kicking your feet as he walked to your room.

spending time with drew felt effortless, everything about him set your mind to ease and your heart ablaze. just like now, when he lounged on your bed in a pair of swim trunks you had found, while you changed into your bikini in the walk-in closet. drew’s eyes widened as you came into view, the white bikini leaving basically nothing to imagination. not that it mattered, drew had seen everything anyway. he sat up spreading his legs apart, and you stepped into the space. drew’s hands came up to your bare legs, caressing the flesh. your hands came up to his hair. stroking the strands, pushing them back from his face. drew hummed “i can’t believe you’re real.” you smiled at him. “thanks, pretty.” drew made a face, tugging you onto his lap so that you sat sideways across his thigh. “shouldn’t i be calling you pretty?” he stroked your thighs with his large hand. “ok, what should i say? yea, you’re well fit, lad.” you exaggerated your accent. he laughed “yea, alright, let’s just get in the pool?”

you were sat on the edge, your legs submerged in the cool water. the heavy LA sun was beating down on your back. but the heat wasn’t bothering you like it usually would, not when the shirtless man wading through your pool is the sexiest man you’ve ever seen. you laughed loudly as drew splashed and you aggressively kicked your legs in attempt to splash him back. drew grabbed you by the waist and lifted you from where you were sat. you wrapped your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. marvin gaye’s distant lover blaring loudly from the speakers. the two of you didn’t feel the need to speak to each other. simply enjoying each other’s presence in the cool water. drew’s hands stroking your back in comforting circles. you couldn’t help yourself from placing a soft kiss on the tip of his nose. he smiled at the gesture. a heartbreaking smile that only confirmed your growing feelings for him. he returned the gesture with a soft peck to your chin.

now the two of you sat on the couch in your patio. sunglasses perched on your noses, sharing a marlboro red. drew was quiet, deep in thought with serious look on his face, but you didn’t bother him, knowing that he would bring it up to you himself. the smoke wafted into the air as you handed him the cigarette for one last drag before he put it out on the ashtray that sat next to him on the couch. you sighed leaning your head onto his shoulder, his hand tangled in your wet hair. your legs bent up on the couch, his spread. “i wanna say something.” you turned your head so that you look up at him without lifting from your place on his shoulder. he really is so pretty. “i know it’s still early, and that you’re going back to london once you’re done filming, but this—today—actually, any time i spend with you is the happiest i’ve felt in my life. and i want to be able to be how we were today everyday, in front of everyone. i don’t want to hide what i feel for you. and if you don’t feel the same that’s ok, i just want you to know that i’ve never felt like this before, these past few months have shown me how good we are together.”

you smiled he was so sweet and so nervous and you thought it wouldn’t be long before you would fall in love with him, or maybe you already have, “i want that too, drew.” his cheeks were pink and he stared down at you with those cerulean eyes, filled with hope and adoration and your heart stirred. “yea?” his voice was low and shaky, like you held his heart in your hands, bared and beating, just for you. “yea.” you brought your hand to his face, stroking his cheekbone with your thumb. he nodded as his eyes rushed between your eyes and lips before he crashed his lips with yours. the kiss was messy like he was conveying every emotion he had kept pent up, in fear that you wouldn’t feel the same. but now that he knew you did, there was no need to hide anymore.

TAGLIST: @sunnybunnyy2 @percysley @wearemadeofstardust0 @idgasb @pinkpantheris @emmaaas-posts @grace-sully @chimmysoftpaws @angvl3tears @josephandrewstarkey

i’m back!!!! i’ve been overseas and literally got back today and wanted to get back to it so here’s this one for you guys. also i’m in the midst of updating my tag list so bare with me, and as always hope you enjoyed!! xx

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seokgyuu · 5 months ago

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The Sweetest Thing

All your life you’ve been your sisters’ punching bag. Never good enough. Never fully accepted. When your mother makes one of them choose you as her maid of honor you reluctantly agree. Semi-vacationing in Tuscany with your ‘beloved’ family, you meet two handsome strangers one night and let them do whatever they want with you. Too bad you didn’t ask for their names first.

Pairing: Heeseung x F!Reader x Sunghoon

Genre: Strangers to ???, Porn with Plot

Warnings: CHEATING!!! reader is hooking up with her sisters’ fiancés, sisters are horrible and suck, mentions of past verbal abuse, reader is somewhat a pervert (she defo is), heeseung & sunghoon definitely are perverts, heeseung & sunghoon are mean, they have nothing good to say about their fiancés, alcohol consumption, adult content MDNI! smut warnings under the cut

Word Count: 9.2k

a/n: and here it is!! my little box of filth. i wanna give a shoutout to @c-oupsie for hyping this up and telling me to keep going, ilysm!! and also @chwepen for beta-reading!! sending you smooches. <3 now everyone, please enjoy this sausage fest.

Taglist: @skzenhalove, @haelahoops, @deobitifull, @shiningnono, @jakeswifez, @slut4hee, @gyuhanniescarat, @branchrkive, @doublebunv, @capri-cuntz, @jaehyuniewifeu, @whateverhoon, @c-oupsie

Smut Warnings: threesome, dom!heeseung, dom!sunghoon, sub!reader, lowkey public sex, p in v sex, throat fucking, unprotected sex (be smarter than this pls!!!), degradation (usage of the words: whore, slut, filthy, stupid (only indirectly?)), praise, tit job, mc is described to have big tits, sunghoon can carry mc, manhandling, cum eating, cum play, shower sex, consensual sex taping, pls tell me if i missed any!!

Pastel colors are slowly but surely becoming your greatest enemy. You can’t count how many different patterns and matches you have seen on this day alone - and the preparations for this wedding have been going on for months.

In all honesty, you didn’t even want to be here. As pretty as Tuscany is - this is the last place you want to be at right now. You would rather sit at home and play a game, would rather sleep in and not have your mother be all over you, pressuring you to do better in a job you never wanted in the first place.

It is your sisters’ wedding. Yes, sisters’. They are both getting married at the same time, same place. Just the grooms are two different men (even though you wouldn’t put it past them to share a man for convenience). Men, you haven’t even met yet. Men, that your mother and sisters kept on swooning over. Look, it is no surprise your sisters got lucky in that department; They are extremely conventionally attractive and they love doing fun things like going out and spending money on things they really didn’t need.

You grew up with them being six and seven years older than you, making them already inseparable when your mum decided to push another one out. Getting along with them sure as hell wasn’t an easy task, in fact it still isn't. It’s pretty clear you only got the job as Linda’s maid of honor because your mother threatened her to do so. There was probably a very heated rock, paper, scissors round going on between your sister dearests to decide who got to have you.

And now you are here. In warm, beautiful Italy with yet another color scheme to look over and authorize. You surely didn’t sign up to suddenly become the wedding planner as well.

“Yeah, that’s perfect, thanks,” you say to one of the florists who are just now setting up the arrangements for the rehearsal dinner happening tonight.

It’s hot, so hot that you have to take shelter every ten minutes because of the fear of burning up. You don’t usually like to spend this much time outside - let alone in the scorching hot sun, so this is rather the change for you.

When the florists leave to get another load of flowers, you decide to take this as the next round of shade and air conditioning inside the resort your sisters have chosen for their special day.

It’s insanely beautiful. High ceilings, incredible murals on the wall, a big round table in the center of the entrance hall with a crystal vase on top, filled with flowers that would make the florist outside turn green in envy.

The air inside immediately cools you down and you take the moment to sit down in one of the arm chairs in the lobby to calm yourself. Only a week. That’s all you need to survive. A week with your sisters and their fiancés, soon to be husbands and your and their families. Guests would arrive the night before the wedding and as soon as the reception was over - you could finally leave and hopefully not see your sisters for another year or so.

“Ah, there you are.” You close your eyes for a second.

“Shouldn’t you be outside?” Linda and Liza are standing in the lobby in their designer sun dresses, very obviously judging you for not being where they want you to be.

“I just came in to escape the heat for a second, that’s all.” You explain as you open your eyes again. The two certainly don’t look happy. In fact, they roll their eyes and flick their perfect hair over their shoulders.

“Okay, well, time is up. If this wedding doesn’t go according to plan, it’s on you.”

“You don’t want us telling mum you don’t care about your big sisters, do you? She’d be so disappointed knowing you aren’t doing your job right.”

Your fists almost immediately ball into fists. How many times have they been like this over the three days you’ve already been here? You honestly lost count. One week. Just one week.

“I was just about to go back outside, don’t worry.”

Anger well hidden away, you stand up and present them with a fake smile, moving to go back outside.

“Oh and, Y/N?” Linda’s voice feels like a ray of ice hitting you, “try to look a little bit more presentable when talking to our staff. We don’t want them to think we can’t actually afford being here.”

Your sisters giggle happily all while you bite your tongue once more. One week. Stay calm. One. Week.

Something about the Italian sky seems different. Maybe it’s because you’re not close to a big city, but the stars shine brighter than you’ve ever seen them. It feels like a movie; the stars and moon so visible with no cloud in sight, the small street of Arezzo you’re currently sitting in - a small restaurant with a small menu but a nice older man that speaks decent English. A glass of wine standing on the small table beside you and the first bit of peace you’ve felt in days.

It’s when you take your next sip of wine you see them.

Two men straight out of a magazine walking towards one of the free tables next to yours and sitting down. There is nothing you can do but stare. Both of them have dark hair, one of them a bit shorter than the other. They are dressed elegantly, designer shoes and pants, blazers hanging over their chairs. Even if you wanted to - you could not possibly say which one was more attractive.

What a nice way to end a horrible day, you think. Smiling, you finish your glass and immediately order the next, not entirely used to drinking so much, but not caring since you are miles away from home and no one here knows you anyway. The waiter nods and then proceeds to go over to the newcomers. The one with the slightly lighter hair and the mole on his nose orders in perfect Italian, with just enough of an accent for you to know they aren’t from here. Your choice of table appears to be perfect for watching them, listening to them converse in a language you understand.

And it all stays innocent like this - they talk about their flight and about friends - until suddenly the conversation sways.

“I honestly- fuck, I can’t believe we’re actually doing this, you know?” The one with shorter hair says and his friend sighs, taking his wine glass and finishing it in one go. Impressive. There was at least half left in yours.

“I don’t know what to tell you. We committed and now we’re fucked.”

“Just that we aren’t getting actually fucked.”

They look at each other before they laugh, shaking their heads. Meanwhile, your ears perk up.

“Fuck, I really don’t know the last time she let me hit it, Hoon. I think I’m going crazy.”

“Yeah, same here. Like, yeah, we fucked once the day before her flight. But literally only missionary and she didn’t suck me off.”

“Again? Dude, is she ever even putting her mouth on it?”

“Nope. Ever since we got engaged she’s like this fucking prude. Is yours like that too?”

“Yeah. I got her flowers and her favorite chocolates and she still wouldn’t even jack me off, like fuck, if it’s gonna be like this forever I can just go cut my dick off.”

Jesus. These two seem to be in very happy relationships. Makes you almost feel better to not be in one. Even if your mother would beg to differ. She’s been desperate for you to find a match for ages. For whatever reason, really, considering her two golden girls were about to get married to rich and handsome heirs.

“Just one good blowjob, man, that’s all I want, really. I miss getting some good fucking head.”

The way short hair looks at mole - with so much understanding and pity, you can’t help but chuckle. Chuckle loud enough for them to take notice.

Their gazes burn on your face before you even see them. But when you do your smile dies and instead makes room for horror. They heard you laugh at them. Even worse, they know you’ve been listening. Shit.

Thankfully, you are three glasses of delicious white wine in and the fourth one is almost empty. Which means you aren’t the sweet little wallflower you’d usually be. Scary, how alcohol can change people.

“Oh, I am sorry. I shouldn’t have eavesdropped.” You apologize, placing your hand over your heart.

“Agreed.” Short hair says, his eyebrow raised. Now, with both of their eyes on you, it seems like they are even more attractive. Perfect faces with pretty eyes and soft looking hair. Handsome men in unhappy relationships that fail to give them what they need. It’s almost comical how the switch in your head turns over, how the persona you normally never let anyone see until you’re in a secluded space comes out and gives you the courage to speak your next words.

“I just couldn’t believe my ears,” you let your finger glide over the rim of your glass, eyes on the two men with your tongue slipping out to lick over your bottom lip, “how anyone would be opposed to having sex with you.”

Oh.

Sunghoon and Heeseung’s ears perk up just like yours did earlier. Eyes widen slightly as they understand the innuendo in your words.

They think about the same thing - the last time they took a girl together. Probably during senior year in college. Back then, they used to do that regularly. Having almost the identical type in women. Instead of having to let her choose, she’d get them both.

But it’s been years since then. They are in committed relationships now, about to get married. And still - neither of them can deny that you fall right into their usual prey, or well, the prey they’d chosen back in college before their parents had picked out their wives for them.

It’s the way you look at them, the way your eyes say so much more than your words. It is also the way both of them feel like they are 22 again with nothing but getting their dick wet on their minds. One thing about Heeseung and Sunghoon - they always worked perfectly in a pair. Back in college and now, too. They can almost read each other’s minds at this point, only a short exchange of looks needed to know neither of them gave a single fuck about anything right now.

“Want to sit down with us?” Sunghoon asks and points at the free chair opposite them. You smile.

“It’d be my pleasure.”

The very small bathroom stall is crowded with three people, but you make it work.

Sunghoon is holding your head in place, his cock buried so deep down your throat he’s seeing red. You’re perfect. The sweetest thing on the outside, and a filthy little whore behind closed doors. You literally begged him to thrust down your throat without paying you any mind. You wanted, no, needed him to use your throat, to act like you were nothing but his little fuck toy. And, shit, he was more than happy to do exactly as you asked.

His hips are moving in rapid speed, his groans music to your ears. Drool is running down your chin and dripping onto your knees. He is not holding back, he is just doing whatever he wants with you and you are throbbing. Throbbing around Heeseungs fat cock that is fucking into you with no care in the world.

Heeseung is sitting on the toilet seat, his hands on your hips, cock rapidly leaving and entering your sopping hole. His head is literally spinning at how fucking good you feel. He bets you’d also sound fucking perfect if only Sunghoon’s cock wasn’t in the way. He can tell by the way you are already squeaking around his best friend’s cock, how your pussy is continuing to spasm around him after you already came on his cock once before.

“Take it, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Heeseung breathes out, hips speeding up and your eyes roll back into your head, your body seemingly on fire. You can’t remember the last time you’ve been fucked this good by a strange or, in this case, two strangers. All you know is that you’ve already cum before and that Heeseung surely will get you over the edge another time. He’s thick and veiny and he fills you up so good there was nothing you could do but cum after only a minute of him fucking you like an animal.

“Shit, look at you,” Sunghoon groans, one hand now wrapping around your throat, his eyes glossy as he stares down at you, still fucking down your abused throat, “you’re a perfect little fucktoy, aren’t you? Enjoy being used by two cocks, huh? Fuuuuuck, you’re gonna make me cum, fucking slut.”

Heesung feels you squeeze around his cock, feels the way you suck him in even deeper.

“This filthy little thing likes when you talk to her like that, Hoonie. Squeezing my cock so fucking hard.” His head tips back and his mouth drops open as he focuses on his pleasure, already fantasizing about stuffing you with his cum. He moves his hands up, squeezing your perfect tits over your dress and you moan around Sunghoon’s cock, tears streaming down your face. Every touch, every thrust, every word is getting you closer to another high. With Heeseung’s hands on your breasts you can freely move your hips now, bouncing up and down on Heeseung’s cock, matching his thrusts perfectly.

There is no chance Sunghoon will last much longer. Your mouth, your throat - he’s scared he already developed an addiction to them. Maybe it’s the long time he hasn’t experienced anything like this, but right now it feels like no throat has ever taken his cock so well before.

“Where should I cum, huh? Down your throat? On your pretty face?” Sunghoon groans, his cock twitching over and over before he finally pulls out, jerking himself off so you can answer the question.

“Cum on her tits, look at those fucking perfect tits, bro.” Heeseung decides to answer for you and Sunghoon smirks as he watches Heeseung get your tits out of your dress for which you thankfully don’t need a bra. Your perfect tits bounce free now and Sunghoon nods, eyes glued to them and how they bounce now that Heeseung continues to fuck into you, your back now arched against him.

“Fucking hell, such fat fucking tits,” Sunghoon is in a trance, mouth dropped as he jerks himself off with the help off your spit and his precum.

“Tell him to cum on your tits, slut, come on, tell him how much you want his cum all over you,” Heeseung whispers into your ear, his cock still continuing to ram into your g-spot like it has never done anything else.

You moan loudly, eyes flying open and Sunghoon almost doesn’t need you to say anything - your fucked out face could well be enough to make him cum.

“Pl-please g-give me your cum, want it a-all over my tits, pl-please, need it so bad!” You cry out and Sunghoon feels his orgasm hit him, thick spurts of cum landing on your tits and neck, some even on your lips that you hungrily lick off of them, only making another spurt come out of Sunghoons cock.

“Holy fucking hell, shit,” he groans, falling against the stall door, his chest heaving.

Heeseung, meanwhile, grabs your hair and tilts your head back as he does his final thrusts, filling your pussy with his seed, white making you feel warm inside and tipping you over the edge, milking him for all he has with your own orgasm, high pitched moans escaping you as your toes curl and your hands grip the material of your dress.

Once he’s done fucking both of you through your orgasms, Heeseung helps you up, his cock slipping out of you. You’re a little shaky on your legs and Sunghoon catches you before you can fall, his eyes immediately going to your tits that are covered in his cum. He licks his lips.

“If we had more time I’d take you to my room and fuck those tits until they are covered in even more layers of my cum, baby.” He mumbles, one finger scooping up some of his release and shoving his finger in your mouth, watching in awe how you eagerly suck it clean.

“Holy fuck, you’re perfect.” Heeseung has put his cock back into his pants, considering to get it back out just to have you lick it clean of your and his juices. He decides against it mainly because he knows there isn’t much time. He and Sunghoon have to get back to the hotel, their fiancés probably awaiting their return.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” Sunghoon says, but you shake your head, only putting your tits back into your dress and stepping back into your panties.

“I wanna keep it for a bit, keepsake if you will.”

Both men are silent. Where the fuck have you been before they got engaged to the sisters from hell? For a second they contemplate just keeping you. Using you for when their soon to be wives were being difficult again.

Obviously, though, this was just a fantasy not meant for reality.

Perhaps it’s well deserved. Having the worst morning all week, the day right after you fucked two strangers in a restaurant’s bathroom. Two engaged strangers. It’s not a surprise that you didn’t care about the blurred lines of their… relationship status, considering you’ve had quite a few hook-ups with married men who were out of town and needed someone to fulfill their needs while their perfect trophy wives were sitting at home waiting for them. Not the proudest thing you’ve done, but whatever gets you cumming.

Today, your sisters seem to have it out for you especially. You blame it on the nerves, after all their perfect fiancées are about to arrive today. Everything needs to be in order, their dresses, their hair, their nails, everything.

You’ve become their personal stylist, nail artist and hairdresser all for nothing more than a chuckle at the way your shirt rises up and shows your stomach that they love to comment on. It’s a win-win situation, for sure.

“Can’t you see you’ve made a mistake!” Liza screeches, pointing at her (to your eyes) perfectly drawn eyeliner. You blink at her and take a deep breath. Six days.

“I apologize.” Quickly, you move to fix your error, but your sister slaps your hand away and rips the pencil out of your hand.

“No, thank you. I’ll do it myself, like everything else, you useless piece of trash.”

Six. Days.

Since there is no point in responding to her, you only nod and turn to Linda who is currently checking herself out in her hand mirror.

“Anything I can do for you?” You ask, feeling ridiculous. One could think you’re their personal assistant and not their younger sister.

“Just get out, Heeseung and Sunghoon are about to arrive and I don’t want them seeing you first thing, imagine their shock.”

Heeseung and Sunghoon.

Something rings in your head. Had they ever mentioned their fiancés names before? Probably - why else would they be so familiar to you.

“Alright. I’ll be by the pool then.”

Neither of them deems it appropriate to even slightly acknowledge you before you leave the room.

A huge sigh leaves you the second you step out of Linda’s room and instead head for your own. Just a quick change into a bikini and down you go. A few hours in the sun, maybe a couple laps in the pool. Another bit of peace while your sisters are occupied. Sounds like the perfect morning to you.

Just that, when you reach your room and change into said bikini - you notice a bruise right above your hip. Your eyes widen at the sight, moving closer to the mirror to inspect it. There is no other possible reason but what happened last night.

“Shit,” you mumble, looking around your clothes for this one light pink scarf you could easily wrap around your hips as some sort of cover. The last thing you want is for your sisters to see this and ask questions. Bad enough you had the face and figure you had - imagine their outrage if one of these was even further damaged!

For as long as you can remember your sisters had been your biggest haters. No matter what you did, if you changed your hair or your wardrobe, they’d be mean to you about it. To them, you were nothing but an unwanted addition to a family they had deemed already perfect. Neither of them had ever wanted another sibling, especially not six and seven years apart from them. Suddenly, you were the center of attention, had your mother cradling you and loving you and not giving them the attention they were sure they deserved.

Even now, at their grown ages, about to get married, they couldn’t seem to get over it.

From an outsider's perspective their lives were fairly more successful than yours. With great jobs in high positions, a perfect routine that included gym visits four times a week, and of course their perfect soon-to-be husbands. If it weren’t so frustrating it might have been funny how they literally kept them from you - kept everything from you. Blocked you from their socials to not be associated with you, living in their own little bubble, acting like you didn’t exist.

So, expect your surprise when Linda called and asked you to be her maid of honor. You had only accepted because you know your mother would be devastated if you didn’t.

That all seems like an okay trade for the view of the hotel pool right by the beach, your body rubbed in sunscreen and your sunglasses on top of your nose listening to music and enjoying your moments without a sister (or mother) around to tell you what to do.

But your life wouldn’t be yours if your peace weren’t suddenly interrupted by the high pitched laugh of one of your sisters floating through the air and reaching your ears. It hadn’t even been half an hour. Maybe, you think, they won’t even come over. After all, they had hidden you away from them for as long as they had been together. Perhaps they wanted to wait til the day of the wedding next week to finally introduce you.

Curiosity gets the best of you at last. Who are these men they’ve been gatekeeping from you, who have been nothing but your mother’s pride? Slowly, you turn into the direction of the high pitched laugh, opening your eyes behind your sunglasses.

And the world around you seems to shake.

“No fucking way,” you breathe out, moving quickly to get up. Panic arises within you, sheer ugly panic that has your body shaking. This can’t be true. This can’t be happening! You move to throw your phone and headphones onto the lounge chair, your eyes darting back and forth between here and your sister’s location, finally freeing yourself of all the things that can’t get wet to jump into the pool. It seemed like the only way not to get noticed by them.

There are several other people in the pool and the splash of you jumping in had been drowned out by the sound of a child laughing and screaming. You stay underwater for a good while, thanking your strong lungs, and only come back up when you feel like enough time has passed for them to have left - only to be met by absolute horror.

They had taken seats right next to your stuff. In their bathing suits from Chanel or Prada or whatever, they looked breathtaking. Not that they would ever get into the pool. It wasn’t them, though, who made your blood turn cold and the insides of your stomach threatening to say hello again - it was their fiancés.

Short dark hair, beautiful faces. One with a mole on his nose. The other with clear shock in his eyes.

The men from last night.

As if to remind you further, you feel the bruise on your hip suddenly starting to throb with pain. You wince and look down, noticing your make-shift cover up being gone. Wonderful.

Your sisters notice you now, their eyes widening when they see you in the state you’re in. Dripping with water, your hair pushed back out of your face, your body dressed in nothing but a flimsy bikini. They had always envied you for your breasts - not that they would ever admit this. But seeing them right now made them even angrier, after all Heeseung and Sunghoon were right here and could see those monstrosities!

And yeah, they see. See your body in that bikini that is leaving nothing to the imagination. See your tits almost falling out of the bikini top - tits that were covered in Sunghoon's cum not even 24 hours ago. They see your pretty face, your long eyelashes, droplets of water sliding down your soft skin.

Heeseung and Sunghoon don’t realize the gravity of the situation yet, right now all they think about is how they’ve hit the jackpot because you’re in the same hotel as them. Right now, neither of them knows who you are besides the girl they’ve fucked the night before.

“Y/N!” Liza screeches, “get out of that pool right now, you look ridiculous!”

Linda gets up and grabs one of the towels next to her, throwing it into the Pool. She wants you to cover up, needs you to cover up.

It is then that Sunghoon and Heeseung slowly understand. Your name. They have heard that name before. Time and time again.

“Mum made me pick my ugly little sister as my maid of honor, Hoonie, can you believe her?”

“Ugh, Y/N, called today. Wanted to congratulate us. Can you believe her? I bet she is so jealous, Hee, she could never get a man to stay. She’s just… too…. ew.”

You’re their sister. Their little sister they have nothing good to say about.

You. The girl from last night. The girl who potentially could become the best fuck of both of their lives.

If they had been able to, they would have looked at each other. But they are too mesmerized by you getting out of the pool with the towel wrapped around your body, or at least around your upper half. They can still easily see your legs, your perfect thighs, the little bikini bottom that does almost nothing to cover up your ass, can see the bruise that is a clear indication of what happened last night. It’s safe to say they are both growing harder in their trunks. Relatively bad timing.

“Sorry, I told you I would be at the pool,” you mumble once you get out, grabbing for your stuff.

“I don’t think so, I would have remembered that!” Liza hisses, her arm sneaking around short hair. So, he must be Heeseung. Heeseung who had his cock buried inside of you mere hours ago and whose cum was most likely still inside of you.

“Just go back upstairs,” Linda shoos you away with her hand and you let your eyes wander to mole next to her. Sunghoon, then. Sunghoon who had been craving a mouth around his cock, Sunghoon who had his cock in your mouth, who had cum all over your exposed tits.

Your body heats up and you quickly turn around to leave.

“It was nice to meet you!” Sunghoon calls after you and you swallow hard, not turning back to them before you leave.

Dinner that night is horribly awkward, to say the least. The fact you’re even allowed to participate is insane. Your parents are delighted to welcome you once you sit down, your sisters and their fiancés showing up a little while after you.

As it turns out, the two men had insisted you’d join them for dinner. Judging by the way they look at you, you feel like they’d rather have you be their dinner.

Nothing could have prepared you for this. For the utter want you see in their faces, the utter want you feel in your bones. It makes all of dinner extremely awkward, makes you press your thighs together, shove around your food on the plate because suddenly your appetite is for something entirely different.

But you know you can’t. The first time, so you tell yourself, was fine because you didn’t know who they were. You even go as far as to blame your sisters for this, after all they had never bothered to show you what Heeseung and Sunghoon look like.

Now, it’s different. Now you know who they are. And as much as you despise your sister’s, you don’t think you could do this to them.

… Or at least that’s what you tell yourself. Because the second you excuse yourself to go to the bathroom and find yourself pressed against yet another stall door, you know you’ve been lying to yourself.

It’s Heeseung, his hands on your hips, digging into the bruise on your side, having you moan in no time.

“What are the fucking odds, hm?” He whispers, his breath hitting your face. You open your mouth to answer, but Heeseung dips forward, his tongue sliding into your open warmth, his lips pressing down on yours. It doesn’t matter what you thought of before, doesn’t matter who he is. Your body is taking over, melting against the strong man, against his chest and arms.

Heeseung kisses you hungrily, like he has been starving for days. He had wrapped his hand around your wrist and yanked you into the one bathroom stall for men, had claimed you as his for the next few minutes.

“We-we can’t!” You cry out, pushing him away, but Heeseung only grabs you harder, turning you around, your chest hitting the door and a gasp escaping your mouth.

“If we can’t, why are you so fucking wet, baby?” His fingers are inside your cunt the next second and your eyes roll back, hips already chasing his touch. He smirks behind you, shoving your dress up with his free hand. Your backside is a sight to behold and he licks over his lips before landing a slap to your right ass cheek. You squeak.

“I guess bathroom stalls are just our thing now, aren’t they?”

Just that this one is spacier. You’re pressed against the door that leads right into the open restaurant. You can hear the people outside, can hear the sound of cutlery meeting plates, of glasses clinking.

“Hee-Heeseung, yo-you’re my sister’s fiancé!” You tried again, even though your hips were already bouncing on his fingers. Heeseung chuckled lowly.

“Don’t tell me now you care about the fact I’m in a relationship. It seemed like yesterday you couldn’t wait to get this taken cock shoved into your pussy.”

He’s not wrong. You bite down on your lip and turn slightly, looking over your shoulder into his dark eyes. God, he’s beautiful.

“Please,” you pout then, and his smirk comes back, his nimble fingers freeing his rock hard cock. You lean back against the door, your cheek pressed against the cold wood, your hands on either side of your head. Your pussy is dripping down his fingers and once he removes them, you’re already impatient to feel his huge cock fill you up.

Wiggling your hips, he lands another slap on your ass before shoving his cock into you, both of you groaning once he bottoms out.

Then, he doesn’t show you any mercy. One of his hands sneaks around you, pressing down on your mouth to keep you quiet as he fucks you right into the door. He is panting, staring down at the way his cock slides in and out of you over and over again. His other hand fishes for his phone in his pocket, halting his thrusts for only a second to concentrate on opening the camera on the phone and hitting record.

“Need to bring Hoonie something to jerk off to later,” he grins as he continues to fuck you, your moans getting numbed only by his hand. He just feels too good. Feels like no other cock you’ve had before. He’s big, wide and so god damn veiny. Every vein seems to drag along your walls, seems to push you closer to the edge. Your eyes are rolling back as your ass bounces off his hips, as his thrusts become sloppier with every second. He needs to cum soon and so do you. There isn’t much time for this, no time in fact. But he’s been craving you, and so has Sunghoon. Thank all the luck in the world for him to have won that rock, paper, scissors round.

“God, you take it so well, you’re such a good little whore, aren’t you? All ready to go when I need to get my cock in you, fuck.”

Heeseung’s words make your pussy spasm around him, his next groan deeper than before. He changes the angle slightly, fucking into you faster and harder, his orgasm getting closer with every little squeeze of your pussy.

“Gonna cum so hard into your pussy, gonna have you sit at that table with my cum trickling into your panties.” He breathes into your ear and bites into your earlobe after, causing you to triple over the edge and cum hard around his cock - taking him right with you.

He curses as he fucks both of you through your orgasms, his cum filling you up, warming you from the inside.

Planting kisses on the back of your neck, Heeseung pulls out, watching his release drip out of you.

“I could get used to this,” he says and puts your panties back into its rightful place.

It doesn’t stop there. And it also doesn’t stop with Heeseung. But while Heeseung is more daring (coming to your hotel room at night, sending you pics of his dick after a shower, telling you to send him a voice note of you cumming), Sunghoon decided to take his time to make his move. You know it’s coming. You just don’t know when.

Heeseung is like a wild animal - he can’t get enough of you. He wants to have his hands on you, his dick in you and his cum all over you as many times as he can. But the week only has seven days, and you only have four more to go until this whole thing is over and they are married to your sisters.

Four days until you won’t be around them all the time, four days until Heeseung won’t be knocking on your door at two in the morning asking you to get on your knees. He fucks you like he owns you, like he knows your time is limited. It is, after all. He leaves marks where it is hard to spot them, kisses you in places no one has ever kissed before.

Yes, the nights with Heeseung are special and steamy and perfect - and yet you wonder where Sunghoon is in all of this. You see the way he looks at you, and you did get a dick pic from him the night you and Heeseung fucked at that first dinner, courtesy to him seeing the video Heeseung took of you. And that is the thing, Heeseung films you. He films you when you’re on top of him, when he’s behind you, when you got his cock down your throat, when you’re bouncing up and down his cock. All of it goes straight to Sunghoon, all of it leads to Sunghoon cumming all over himself in the bathroom and sending you a picture of it. He never leaves his room, though, never does anything about it.

It’s day minus three til the wedding and you’re at the beach with everyone. The other maid of honor has arrived, and so have the two best men. Jake and Jay, they had introduced themselves as and judging by the way they were looking at you… they knew exactly who you were. If you weren’t so busy with Heeseung, you’d gladly have slipped into one of their rooms at night.

You’re laying on your towel, happy to have everyone around you be busy with something that isn’t you. Your book is in your hands, the words getting more and more raunchy, your thighs pressing together. Perhaps this isn’t the best place to read smut, but it’s not like you have any control over when these scenes happen in the book. You just know every word hits you deep and has you biting down your lip. Even with the soreness still left between your legs from last night's visit, you feel yourself growing wetter with every sentence.

“In broad daylight, sweetheart, really?”

The voice makes you flinch, your book flipping closed as you turn around, spotting Sunghoon standing right above you. He is wearing a slight smirk on his lips and you feel your cheeks heat up. Not just because he caught you with your book but because he’s standing there in nothing but his trunks, a cup of iced coffee in his slim hand. His chest is defined, so are his abs. His arms look strong, toned, like they could throw you against a wall and hold you there. You swallow the lust that is daring to come up.

“What do you want?” You hiss, sitting up and looking at him.

He hasn’t really talked to you much. Too busy giving you looks and pretending like he didn’t when your sister or parents or any other already arrived wedding party approached him.

“What would I want?” Sunghoon asks back, tilting his head. The view he has from up here, your tits sitting in your bikini top, looking as delicious as they always did. It takes all in him not to drag you up and take you in front of everyone.

You snort and roll your eyes, turning back to your book.

“Well, if there is nothing you want, you can leave me alone.”

He watches you, how you lay back on your stomach, how you open the book and look for the page you just read. Licking over his lips, he roams his eyes over you. At this point, he has lost count of how many times he’s looked at you. How many times he has waited in the bathroom at night for Heeseung to send the videos, the pictures. As much as he was jealous, he enjoyed looking at you as he used his lubed up hand to get himself off. Except… for the last two days. He hasn’t sent you a picture of him with his cum all over his torso or thighs for two days because he simply hadn’t let himself reach climax. He’s been edging himself for all this time, waiting for the right time to unload all of his seed… preferably on you.

It doesn’t feel like enough. Just getting to watch you through a screen, imagine what you would feel like. Your mouth, he remembers. Vividly. Your pussy… he can only wonder. Only guess when Heeseung sends him those videos or when he tells him before they head down to breakfast.

Letting his eyes wander over your frame, your neck and back, your hips and ass, your legs…

“Get up.” He says. You don’t move.

He growls.

“I said,” his voice is low and warmth gathers at your core, “get up.”

It is when you still don’t move, Sunghoon feels his patience run thin. He places his iced coffee on one of the tables next to the lounge chairs.

Then, he is quick to pull you up, both his hands on your hips, a yelp coming out of you as he skillfully gets you on your feet. You stare at him with wide eyes and your mouth agape. Oh… your mouth. He has to restrain himself - already half hard in his trunks. Sunghoon looks around, sees his fiancé in a conversation with your mother. An idea flashes before him and he smirks slightly, alarm bells ringing in your head. What is he planning?

Not even a second passes when he grabs his iced coffee and spills it all over himself.

“God, watch where you’re going!” He yells, making all of your family members and their friends look at you. This little shit.

Linda immediately jumps to her feet.

“Look what you’ve done!” She screeches and you press your lips together, acting the part of the guilt ridden sister.

“I am sorry, I didn’t mean to!” You defend yourself, but your sister just shoots you a deadly gaze.

“My darling, are you alright?” She is looking at Sunghoon now at his coffee stained self. He shakes his head.

“I really wanted that coffee. And these are my favorite trunks,” he sighs, “come on, Y/N, you’re gonna get me a new coffee.”

“I can get you a new coffee, babe!” Linda tries, her fingers wrapping around Sunghoon’s arm. It fills you with a sense of triumph when he moves out of her grip.

“You didn’t do this, honey. She did. Go back to your lounging.” He says it to her, but looks at you. And, god, you don’t think you’ve ever been more aroused in your life.

It starts in the elevator up to his room. His hands are on your tits and your tongue is in his mouth. He groans when he feels you grabbing around his cock, hand swiftly inside his swimming trunks. There are no words being exchanged, only moans and sighs and gasps as he presses you against the wall, your kisses getting deeper and heavier by the second.

Sunghoon has never wanted anyone as much as you right now. His cock is begging to be freed, leaking into his trunks. His thoughts are spiraling, a part of him just wants to push those skimpy bikini bottoms to the side and just fuck you right here, no matter if someone could walk in at any second, the other wants to take his time, bring you to his room and explore every inch of you.

When the elevator stops at his floor, he drags you out, glad no one is around to see as he pushes you against the wall next to the now closing elevator doors, his hand immediately moving between your legs. He moans at the wetness already there. Well aware you haven’t been in the pool or the ocean today.

“Fuck, look at you. So fucking wet.” He mumbles against your lips, pulling them into yet another heated kiss just as his fingers slip underneath your swimming suit, making you whimper. Your hips roll against his hand and he bites down on your bottom lip, fingers getting closer to where you want them, need them, the most.

But he pulls away, grabbing your hand and leading you to his room, getting the keycard out of the small pouch he had in the pockets of his trunks. You watch as he opens the door, watch as impatience and need radiate off him and another feeling of triumph, of confidence overcomes you. He is actively choosing you over your sister. He wants you not her.

Once you’re inside and the door is closed, you find yourself stuck between him and yet another wall, or in this case, door. His first mission is to get your tits out, his hands losing the strands of your top, the little fabric falling onto the floor a second later. He licks over his lips.

“I’ve been dreaming of these, baby,” he whispers, “come on, get on your knees.”

You do as told instantly. Dropping to your knees, eyes focused on him and only him. On how he now shoves his trunks down slowly, his cock, hard and red at the tip, springing free for you to admire. Your pussy starts throbbing. How badly you want him inside you, how badly you want him to fill you up with his cum, joining Heeseung’s from last night.

“Open up, slut.” Again, you obey. Your mouth drops open, tongue sticks out and Sunghoon’s cock twitches at the sight. This is what he has been dreaming about. Your mouth around his cock, your perfect heavy tits naked and oh-so ready to be painted like that first night.

“Good girl, so, so obedient.” He moves closer, right hand around his cock as the left is leaned against the wall, helping him keep his balance. Slowly, he brings the tip of his cock to the tip of your tongue, watching as you lick over it immediately. His eyes don’t leave yours when he begins shoving it in, his chest heaving. There is a good chance he might not last long, but he won’t let you leave this room without his cock having been inside you and if that means going again right after his first or second load.

You take him like a pro. Feel him slide down your throat, hitting the back of it before going even deeper. You choke just slightly, breathing through your nose. He stops only when he is fully buried, his breath getting heavier with every passing moment.

“You take it so fucking well, what a good little whore.” Sweat is pooling at the top of his forehead, his knees about to give in. He begins to move his hips slowly at first, but when you tap his thigh, he takes it as a sign to go harder. And, shit, does he go harder. Throwing his head back as he brings both his hands to your head, holding it in place as he thrusts down your throat over and over again. His balls hit your chin whenever he moves to bury himself again, his moans and groans nothing but music to your ears.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck!” He groans in pleasure, pulling his cock out and the next thing you know there is cum all over you. Your tits are full with his seed, your neck, your chin, your face. You gasp slightly, staring at him with your lips swollen from the roughness of his movements. He breathes hard, hand around his cock to hold it steady as waves of his pleasure make more cum land on your tits.

“That’s right, look at you, fuck,” his eyes are glossy watching your tits covered in his cum, his cock not losing any of it’s hardnes even after the amount of cum he just left on you. It’s not hard to notice. Your fingers scoop up a bit of it, sucking them clean and not letting him out of your sight. Sunghoon feels like he might have reached heaven.

“You’re so fucking filthy,” he grumbles, pulling you up by your arms and crashing your lips against his again. He pulls you to the bed and pushes you down, watching your cum-covered tits bounce as you fall. You know what he wants and you slightly sit up, your elbows behind you, watching as he moves on top of you. His eyes are still so full of hunger, of need, of pure and hot lust.

His cock slides between your tits, his hands pushing them together around it. Then, he begins to thrust again. Just like he had wanted back at the restaurant. Fuck your tits covered in his cum, add a little more.

You feel like the luckiest woman on earth with him like this. Using you to get off, his cock fucking your tits like a madman, whimpers and moans and groans, his head thrown back as he enjoys the feeling. It is even better than his imagination. Every second feels like he’s gonna ascend any moment now. His skin is tingling with desire and he wonders if it’ll ever stop. Right now, he thinks, he could probably go on for hours, for days. Just you and him and your tits and your mouth and your pussy.

When he looks down again, sees the way you look at him, see the way his cock looks sandwiched between your breasts, Sunghoon can’t help but cum again, less than before but still enough to cover your chest and neck, adding even more paint to the already perfect canvas.

Exhaustion is starting to spread through his bones, but he’s ignoring it. Instead, he pulls you up with him again, kissing you hard, fingers now finally finding their way into your bottoms again. He shoves them inside you immediately.

“Sunghoon!” You cry out, fingers gripping his strong shoulders as he places you on his lap, straddling him. He fucks you with his fingers, hard and fast. Your pussy squeezes them, your arousal dripping onto his bare thighs.

“So, so wet. So fucking filthy with my cum all over you. Tell me, baby, are you a whore?”

“Y-Yes!” You squeak. He grins wickedly, adding a third finger to the two. You cry in pleasure, bouncing up and down on his long, perfect fingers.

“So eager to be called a whore. Fucking a taken man, two taken men. Your sister’s men. Aren’t you ashamed?” He breathes into you ear and you moan again, nails digging into his skin.

“N-No!” You answer and he laughs quietly, thumb now pressing down on your clit. You feel the first tears starting to pool in your eyes.

“Oh, but you should be. Such a dirty fucking whore, full of cum, getting her pussy fucked by her sister’s fiancés fingers,” He chuckles, “and soon his cock.”

You reach the edge just then. When he promises you his lengths, when he tells you how ashamed you should be. As if you don’t know. That’s what makes this whole thing so ridiculously hot.

He fucks you through your orgasm, kissing your mouth again, tongues slashing against each other in a heated fight. You need him to fuck you. Right now. And as if he could read your mind, Sunghoon picks you up, hands underneath your thighs, lips never leaving yours and brings you to the spacious bathroom.

First, he fucks you in front of the mirror. Makes you watch yourself, getting fucked like a cheap whore by his sister’s soon-to-be husband. He makes you lick his cum off his fingers, thrusts them as deep down your throat as his cock is penetrating you.

Your pussy might be the best he’s ever had. The second he was buried inside of you, he knew he was done for. Knew this couldn’t be the last time he did this. Every bit of you, he wanted for himself. He even thought about asking Heeseung to back off, which he knew his best friend never would. Not with you. Not when you were this perfect. Fulfilling their every need, letting them do with you whatever they wanted.

When he gets you in the shower, he washes the drying cum off of you softly. He’s still inside of you, his still not fully satisfied cock. You squeeze around him, throb around him. You need him to do more, he knows it as well as you. But he’s gentle. Uses a sponge to get every bit of his seed off your body, his lips kissing your cheeks, lips, nose, neck and breasts. It’s almost too soft for you.

This is supposed to be about nothing but sex. He is supposed to fuck you, call you names while you’re at it and then disregard you. Instead, he’s being gentle.

That is, until the door outside opens and your sister’s voice interrupts the softness. It makes room for yet another wicked grin and Sunghoon’s first thrust inside of you for minutes. Your hand flies to your mouth covering the pathetic whimper that would have come out. Sunghoon’s eyes sparkle.

“Hoonie? Are you in the shower?”

He begins to thrust again, his hands on your hips, staring into your eyes as he gives you his fucking all. Your eyes roll back.

“Yes, darling. Your stupid sister managed to get me all sticky with that coffee!”

Your pussy fluttered at the words. He grinned wider.

“Oh, like it when I call you stupid?” He whispers into your ear, cock twitching rapidly as he bites into your neck, hips showing you absolutely no mercy.

“Ugh, I am so sorry about her! She’s not just a klutz, she’s also insanely dumb. I can’t wait to never see her again after this is done.”

Perhaps these words would have hurt you, if Sunghoon wasn’t railing you like the god he was. Every thrust was smooth and yet hard enough to make your toes curl. He made quick work to lift you up, your legs now wrapping around his middle as he continued to fuck into you, moaning into your neck to drown out the noise.

“Yeah, she is a real piece of work,” he finally replied, his eyes staring into yours as he smirked.

“No wonder she can’t get a boyfriend! Who would ever want to be with that?”

Sunghoon rolls his eyes, pressing his body closer to yours, kissing you again, his tongue licking sensually over your bottom lip. It makes a shiver run down your spine.

“Anyway, where did she go? I didn’t find her in her room.”

Sunghoon reluctantly parts from you.

“No clue. She got me a new coffee and stormed off like the big baby she is.”

He grabs your tits again, squeezing and massaging, nipple between forefinger and thumb, leaning down so he can put it in his mouth and suck and bite down, your hand on your mouth pressing down harder.

You explode around him. Squirt like a fucking porn-star, liquid shooting out of you and down his legs, mixing with the water of the shower. Sunghoon’s knees are once more about to give in. He moans against your lips, hoping Linda didn’t hear and at the same time also hoping she did. Your climax makes him cum for the third time that day, his hot semen filling your spent pussy, painting it white like the clouds.

“That, she is indeed,” Linda laughs, “anyway, we’re gonna go get dinner in the city, baby. I’ll be at Liza’s room, love you!”

Sunghoon doesn’t answer and Linda just leaves. You feel like no words were even needed to understand.

Once you’re sure Linda is gone for good, Sunghoon and you step out of the shower. It’s quiet between you, quiet and somewhat heavy. You don’t like it one bit. You’re quick to grab your bikini and put it back on, relieved to know you most likely won’t find your sisters back at the beach where you’re headed now.

You don’t turn around again when you leave the bathroom. And you also don’t expect Sunghoon to say anything. Still, when you open the door to leave, you feel just a tiny bit disappointed that he doesn’t hold you back.

How utterly pathetic of you.

Heeseung doesn’t come for you that night. You wonder if it’s because of Sunghoon and decide it most definitely is because of Sunghoon.

Yet, the slightly younger male doesn’t come to seek you out either.

Tonight, it’s just you.

And perhaps, you think, that’s just how it’s supposed to be.

to be continued...

header & divider credit to the wonderful @wongyuseokie <3

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maxverstappendefender · 5 months ago

Text

girlfriend reveal // mv1 smau

description: norris!reader x mv1

y/d/n = your daughter’s name

a/n: all pics from pinterest, i don’t own any. here’s a smau for my inactivity. i feel some motivation coming back so keep an eye out for some posts!

masterlist

liked by landonorris, maxverstappen1, and 11,738 others

ynnorris: happy moments in spain 🇪🇸

view all comments

landonorris: how dare you not even put your favourite brother in this dump

user1: lando in the bucket hat on the last slide 😇

↳ user2: lando posted earlier today that he was in the uk…

↳ user3: WHO’S IN THE LAST SLIDE YN?!

user4: cutest mum ever!

danielricciardo: i miss my fav norris and niece. im sure she misses her fav uncle

↳ landonorris: im right here…

↳ charles_leclerc: YOU’RE HER FAVOURITE UNCLE? 🤣🤣🤣

↳ carlossainz55: yn’s in spain so clearly im the favourite

↳ oscarpiastri: Nah, it’s me

↳ ynnorris: none of you (besides lando) have any relation to me… you claimed yourselves to be y/d/n’s uncles

↳ landonorris: that means im the favourite uncle 😁

↳ ynnorris: no.

user5: anyone else wondering who’s in the second pic?

↳ user6: yes, prob her kids dad though

↳ user7: idk why she keeps y/d/n’s dad so private and secretive

↳ user8: im going crazy trying to figure out who that is

↳ landonorris: mwahahahaha 😈

liked by maxverstappen1, ynnorris, and 943,291 others

landonorris: summer break has been summer breaking (im the fav AND ONLY uncle)

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ynnorris: awww you have matching necklaces with your boyfriends, that’s so cute! how dare you not include me in this photo dump.

↳ landonorris: get out of my comment section!!

↳ maxverstappen1: Matching necklaces are in now

ynnorris: now why is my daughter behind the wheel of a car…

↳ landonorris: fake news.

user9: UNCLE LANDO

user10: he will be the best dad one day

↳ ynnorris: please god no.

user11: i love how lando put his niece in his photo dump but not his own sister

↳ user12: he’s a comedian rlly

liked by ynnorris, charles_leclerc, and 683,917 others

landonorris: sister got mad for not being included in the photo dump so here is my big sister and my big sister only!

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ynnorris: lando. when i catch you lando.

maxverstappen1: yn supremacy!

↳ user13: now what is this.

↳ user14: are we interrupting something?

danielricciardo: those were NOT your cheezits…

↳ ynnorris: im so (not) sorry, y/d/n made me

↳ danielricciardo: nuh uh. don’t you dare pin this on my sweet little angel baby of a niece

↳ landonorris: she’s half norris and half [redacted], don’t put it past her

↳ user15: don’t be shy lando. tell us who the father is

↳ user16: win incoming if you tell us who y/d/n’s dad is

↳ user17: WHO IS YN’S BABY DADDY LANDO NORRIS

user18: the minion toy in the pocket has me dying

user19: we want uncle lando back! even though brother lando is cute too

user20: lando is such a younger brother for posting these pics

liked by carlossainz55, schecoperez, and 819,004 others

maxverstappen1: Summer break ✅. Up next Zandvoort!

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user21: MAX VERSTAPPEN SOFT LAUNCHING?!

↳ user22: i used to pray for times like these

danielricciardo: okay mr verstappen, i was unfamiliar with your game

↳ maxverstappen1: You have been very familiar with my game

↳ ynnorris: pause. 😧

↳ danielricciardo: hate us cuz you ain’t us 🤷‍♂️

landonorris: no pic credits for the second pic?

↳ maxverstappen1: I have been paid by yn to not give pic credits for people who post bad photos of her

↳ landonorris: traitor

user23: what is it finna play? WOAH

user24: how did we go from cute stingrays to a soft launch

user25: girlfriend reveal now!

user26: walk with me people… yn posts a pic at an aquarium with someone holding y/d/n… max posts a pic of stingrays which are found… at an aquarium

↳ user27: tons of the drivers take y/d/n places with yn, don’t make it weird

user28: max ‘soft launch’ verstappen

liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc, and 12,058 others

ynnorris: started zandvoort a mclaren fan, finished zandvoort a red bull fan because i only support winners!

tagged: landonorris

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user28: the caption has me dying

landonorris: too close to home

↳ ynnorris: win next time then

↳ landonorris: at least y/d/n is still a fan of mclaren

↳ maxverstappen1: Is she though?

↳ redbullracing: is she really?

mclaren: im hurt yn.

↳ ynnorris: it wasn’t you admin, it was me.

oscarpiastri: ouch.

↳ ynnorris: if i ever say i dislike mclaren, never am i talking about you! team 81 all the way

↳ landonorris: wow. i post 3 bad photos of you and now im hated

↳ oscarpiastri: 🙂 thx yn

redbullracing: ❤️💙

user29: uncle lando!!

user30: never wrong yn ✍️

liked by ynnorris, landonorris, and 1,028,564 others

maxverstappen1: Heard people say I should do a girlfriend reveal and I would love to! I can’t do that anymore and haven’t been able to for a few years now but I offer a wife and daughter reveal ❤️

tagged: ynnorris

comments on this post are restricted

landonorris: FINALLY I DONT HAVE TO KEEP MY MOUTH SHUT

↳ danielricciardo: real.

↳ carlossainz55: real.

↳ charles_leclerc: real.

↳ oscarpiastri: real.

↳ schecoperez: real.

↳ mclaren: real.

↳ redbullracing: real.

ynnorris: best dad on earth

↳ maxverstappen1: Best mum on earth

ynnorris: been a long time coming now

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris, and 29,371 others

ynnorris: heard we were hard launching?

tagged: maxverstappen1

view all comments

user31: my brain hurts

user32: bro what.

user33: didn’t see this coming

maxverstappen1: My girls ❤️

↳ ynnorris: baby no. 2 when? 🤔

↳ landonorris: threw up in my mouth a little

landonorris: now you can show your love on the internet and not in front of me

↳ ynnorris: never!

↳ maxverstappen1: Never!

↳ user34: poor lando

user35: they’re so cute 😭

user36: dad max?!

redbullracing: so when is little miss y/d/n taking over the red bull legacy?

↳ ynnorris: nope.

↳ maxverstappen1: Have to agree with the mrs. 🙃 (when she can reach the pedals of a kart)

↳ ynnorris: you’re so funny!! 😐😐

#mv1 #mv1 smau #max verstappen #max Verstappen smau #max verstappen fanfic #mv1 fanfic #f1 #formula 1 #formula one #f1 smau #formula 1 smau #formula one smau #f1 fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #formula one fanfic #smau #Lando Norris #Lando Norris fanfic #Lando Norris smau

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gallavichsreddie1128 · 5 months ago

Text

Strip Poker with Wade and Logan

Description: Y/N, Wade and Logan play strip poker

Request: I would loveee and fanfic with the three of them actually playing strip poker

Y/N was just as excited as Wade was. She was secretly in love with both of them and getting to see them naked? Well that was a bonus

Logan rolled his eyes but agreed. He was not as thrilled as the other two.

Y/N’s objective was to get both of them naked.

Wade’s objective was to get Y/N naked and Logan but mostly Y/N.

Logan…well he did wanna see Y/N naked. That was something he couldn’t lie about.

“So baby girl, I’m gonna need you to lose so we can enjoy ourselves.” Wade motioned between him and Logan.

Y/N rolled her eyes

“Ok Logan take off that slutty shirt.” Wade told him as he grumbled.

His abs

Y/N could not stop staring at his abs. Her eyes were glued to them.

This made Logan smirk.

“Ok Y/N we get it you like his abs.”

Wade was a little jealous

Wade wasn’t a fan of his body but Y/N clapped and cheered as he took off his shirt.

Logan chuckled at her reaction

Y/N was winning and had yet to remove any clothes.

Wade was pretty much naked besides his socks and boxers

Logan was down to his sweatpants

Y/N finally lost and Wade yelled “hallelujah.”

Logan smirked as she took off her tshirt revealing a lilac lace colored bra.

Wade’s eyes couldn’t leave her tits that weren’t even out yet.

“We get it, you like her tits.” Logan says.

The next time she lost Wade was practically begging her to remove her bra but she liked teasing him and removed her socks instead

Logan’s sweatpants came off and both of them gawked at how big he looked in his boxers.

“Ya like what ya see, doll?” He asked Y/N.

“Oh sweet baby yes.” Wade answered

Wade accepted his fate once he lost and was finally naked.

Y/N felt herself drip at the sight.

He watched intensely as the other two played

“Please show us your tits. Please show us your tits.”

Y/N smirked and went to take off her bra but stopped and pulled her PJ pants down.

She wore a matching set that made both boys stare

“I’ll be damned, that is better than any dream or image in my head.”

Y/N had to think of which to remove next. Her bra or panties?

Panties it is.

Logan’s jaw dropped and he could practically smell her arousal from where he sat. It was driving him crazy.

Y/N jumped up and down as she won and Logan had to remove his boxers.

She moaned at the size causing both men to look at her.

Oh she was so horny now

“Well pretty girl you won so you get a reward.” Logan told her.

Wade and him walked over to her side of the table.

Was this really happening? She thought

They both leaned down and kissed her neck.

She gasped their names

“I can smell how horny you are.” Logan growled in her ear.

“Wolvy is right baby and damn it smells good.”

She throws her head back and reminds herself to thank Wade for the strip poker idea later

1K notes · View notes

megamindsecretlair · 18 days ago

Text

'Twas the Night

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

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

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

Word Count: 19,198k

AO3 Link

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That and people were just plain fucking nasty.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where’s your ID?” You asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I do my job?” He asked.

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

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

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

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

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

“Deal, I guess,” you said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You need a picture?”

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

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

“What?” You asked.

“You were staring,” he said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can be worse,” he said.

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

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

“Yeah, what gave me away?” You asked.

“The laptop,” he said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not gon’ tell me?” He asked.

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

“You’re the one staring,” he said.

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

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

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

“What kind of books?” He asked.

“Paperbacks,” you said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“All done in the bedroom?” You asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not trying to scare you,” he promised.

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

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

“Thank you. Really,” you said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You must think I’m silly,” you said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s that important?” He asked.

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

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

“Yeah? How so?” He asked.

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

“I like listening to you,” he said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You good?” He asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Blueberry cider?” You asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He is the boss,” Terry grumbled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your friend is funny,” you said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No. But I’m learning to,” he said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Um, no,” you said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks,” he said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Terry scoffed. “Bet,” he said.

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

“Rocky, try again,” he said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This helps storms, huh?”

Terry nodded. “Hell yeah. Feel better?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I confess something?” Terry asked.

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

“What is it, Terry?” You asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blinked a few times. “I–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You,” he said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why didn’t you say?” He asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t have a condom, but–”

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

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

“Fuck me,” you whined.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Terry!” You screamed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Cream that shit, fuck,” Terry moaned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Already?!” You asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You,” you said.

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

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

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

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

“You fucking me too good!” You screamed.

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

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

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

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

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

“Merry Christmas, Terry.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Secret Terry Richmond Files

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

@slutsareteacherstoo @blackerthings @dreamsinfocus @brattyfics @mermaidchansons

@monaeesstuff @henneseyhoe @blowmymbackout @charismablu @playgurlxoxo

@misskiki90 @miyuhpapayuh @satoruya @starcrossedxwriter @yamst3rdamctrl

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

@thegreatlibraryofalex @amyhennessyhouse @hihellogoodbyebruh @becauseimswagman1

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