I love Cobra Kai and Buffy the vampire slayer and Pokemon and I also like Star wars. I love Disney stuff .I AM 23 YEARS OLD AND MY BIRTHDAY IS IN NOVEMBER 18,2001
I’m reaching out with a quiet hope in my heart. These days are heavy, and my family is living through a reality filled with uncertainty—but I’m still here, doing my best to hold on and keep going.
If you have a moment, please check out my pinned post.
A simple share could help it reach someone who might be able to make a difference.
If you’re able to give, even the smallest kindness can bring light into the darkest places.
Your time, your voice, your compassion — it all matters more than you know.
I’m reaching out with a quiet hope in my heart. These days are heavy, and my family is living through a reality filled with uncertainty—but I’m still here, doing my best to hold on and keep going.
If you have a moment, please check out my pinned post.
A simple share could help it reach someone who might be able to make a difference.
If you’re able to give, even the smallest kindness can bring light into the darkest places.
Your time, your voice, your compassion — it all matters more than you know.
This has got to be a sin, you think as Terry’s hands grip your hips, the fabric from your dress bunched up in his fist as his cock thrusts inside you. Fucking in a church shouldn’t feel this good. But it does and you can’t help but get off on it when the man doing the fucking you looks as handsome as the devil himself clad in a tailored Armani suit.
Terry’s teeth sink into your shoulder, stifling the moan of satisfaction that tears from his throat. He pulls out and starts all over again, hard, desperate strokes that graze over that sweet spot, the one that that has you crying out God’s name in vain inside the confines of that confessional booth. Terry’s palm covers your mouth and it heightens the sensation, forcing your breathing to come out in small rapid pants as he hips arch faster, snapping against you.
“Christ Georgia, the sight of you in this fucking dress.” Terry mutters against your skin. “It’s enough to drive a man to madness.”
This started because the two of you are attending the world’s most boring wedding. A ceremony full of hymns, prayers and proclamations of keeping yourself pure before marriage. All of that nonsense, it made Terry bored, which then made him a little mischievous. His hand had come to rest on your thigh, fingers slipping under your dress, the tips lightly grazing over your clit until your panties were soaked. Before you knew it he was working his way underneath the damp fabric, fingerfucking you as the vows were exchanged.
He’d timed your climax perfectly, edging you until the moment everyone rose to applaud the happy couple. The two of you had remained seated, your face buried into the curve of his throat as you came around his fingers.
“She just gets very emotional during events like this.” He had told the couple sitting next to you, his lips brushing over your temple. “She enjoys a celebration of love.”
Inside the confessional booth your own celebration of love is reaching it’s peak. You can feel your ecstasy rising up inside you as Terry hits that sweet spot, over and over and over again until you’re tightening around his cock, gripping it so tightly that he has no choice but to hurtle over the edge with you. His release spills deep as he buries himself inside you, keeping himself pressed deep inside that beautiful, perfect pussy.
“We’re going to hell aren’t we?” You mutter as Terry chuckles, his lips ghosting along the curve of your throat.
“Yes my love.” He smiles, his teeth nipping your earlobe. “We most certainly are.”
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Paris - Your entire world changes when you meet Terry Silver on your birthday.
Pont des Arts - You and Terry stroll along the Pont des Arts.
Yours (NSFW) - Your first time with Terry starts with a seduction.
Adventure - Terry asks you to come on an adventure.
Stand By Me - Terry realises he's planning a life with you.
After spending Christmas in Prague, you and Terry ring in the new year in Sydney. You dine at a restaurant in Cockle Bay, drinking champagne before the fireworks display starts above the water in Darling Harbour. You watch from the railing on the veranda, your head tilted back towards the sky as Terry lingers alongside you.
You’re completely captivated by the eruptions of colour, the brilliant shapes they weave in the vast darkness. You want to commit this moment to memory, to immerse yourself in it because you know there won’t be many more after this.
These past six months with Terry, they’ve been a whirlwind of experiences and you’ll treasure every single one of the memories you’ve made together but like all good things, it must come to an end and in a week’s time you’ll be returning back to the reality of your life, one that seems so small and inadequate compared to the one that Terry leads.
When you get back home he’ll still be a billionaire and you’ll still be you, an artist struggling to make ends meet. You have nothing to offer a man like him and you know he’ll realise that once you return to the US.
“You look sad.” Terry murmurs from alongside you, his voice almost drowned out by the boom from the fireworks above. His palm comes to rest on your lower back, his thumb tracing soothing circles in an attempt to stave off whatever’s upsetting you.
“Just wistful.” You say as you incline your head towards him.
He looks so handsome in the light cast by fireworks, the colours splash across his face like neon lights, highlighting his features and you wish you could take a picture of his moment, that you could paint this version of him.
“Georgia…” He murmurs as he looks into your eyes and you know what he’s about to say next. “I-”
You steal away his words with a kiss, your hands threading through his hair as you reach up on tiptoes and claim his mouth. He responds to you with an urgency you feel deep down in your bones, his arms caging you in against the railing, his firm body pressing against you.
The fireworks erupt once more with vigour. They’re louder this time, their concussive energy rocking through your body before Terry draws away. You whine at the loss of sensation as he cradles your face between his hands.
“I love you.” He whispers against your swollen lips. “You need to know that before we go back to LA.”
“Terry…” You begin and he shakes his head.
“You don’t have to say it back.” He tells you and in that moment it’s like he sees into the depths of your soul, that he understands those stupid little fears that whisper in the back of your mind. “You need to know that nothing changes my love, that I just want you and only you.”
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Paper Airplanes - Terry begins to consider starting a family.
Trying - You and Terry see a fertility specialist after a year of trying.
Terry wakes up to the sound of you crying. He can hear it through the bathroom door despite the fact you’ve closed it. He half expected this, you’ve been keeping your emotions locked down tight since the appointment with the fertility consultant, presenting a sunny, almost manic disposition because you aren’t ready to accept the truth just yet.
It’s why you’ve been clearing out your art studio, re-decorating the guest bedroom and scrubbing the kitchen within an inch of it’s life despite the fact you have a regular cleaner.
He knows from his own therapy sessions that the way you’re living, it’s not sustainable so he’s been waiting for the fall, the day that reality hits you.
“Georgia.” He says softly as he raps on the door and the sobbing softens. “I’m coming in.”
He finds you sitting on the edge of the bath, tears streaming down your cheeks as you clutch a negative pregnancy test in your hand.
“I thought I’d try one last time, just in case…”
You fall apart again then because that hope you’ve been clinging to, it dies in that moment and Terry, he can’t stand it. He crouches down in front of you, his lips brushing over your cheeks, kissing away the tears as you wrap your arms around him drawing him to you.
“I just really wanted this for us.” You whisper as you bury your face into the curve of his throat, taking shelter in his presence.
“I know my love.” He whispers, his palm stroking lightly over your hair as he cradles you close. “I really wanted it too.”
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Attention - Terry hasn't been paying you enough attention.
Distance - Terry and you struggle with emotional distance as the embezzlement case continues.
Twenty Four Hours - You come home from your trip to spend 24 hours with your husband.
When Terry runs into Cassandra, he’s eating alone in his favourite restaurant, going over the questions the investigators were asking him during the latest round of depositions. He's trying to work out which way they’re leaning in regards to his complicity. He wants to call you, talk it out but it’s 1am in Madrid and he knows you’ll be sleeping.
He doesn’t register Cassandra sitting down across from him, not until she reaches out and touches his hand. His eyes raise up to meet hers and he’s taken back to twenty years ago, when he first met her at an Narcotics Anonymous meeting in Beverly Hills. She’d been in recovery for popping pills for almost two years at that point and he’d just got his one year sobriety chip.
She was the first woman he fucked sober.
Their relationship had started with coffee. He connected with her because she understood his struggle. He found her easy to talk to, non-judgemental. It’s the same now as he tells her about the stress he’s under, the depositions and the physical distance between the two of you.
“I miss her.” He says as he sips from a glass of top shelf whiskey. “It’s starting to feel unbearable.”
“I know what it’s like to be lonely.” She responds squeezing his hand. “It can feel like a chasm deep down in your heart.”
That’s exactly what it feels like, it’s as if he’s staring into the abyss and there’s just this darkness eating him up inside.
He’s drunk by the time the restaurant closes. He doesn’t know where the hours have gone. He’s enjoyed having company this evening, setting the world to rights, laughing again. He does the gentlemanly thing and helps Cassandra into her jacket and she smiles before she tucks herself under his arm, a little wobbly on her heels. He’s not fond of the proximity, it feels disloyal to the woman whose sleeping alone almost six thousand miles away, on a trip the two of them should have been taking together.
He shifts away as Cassandra’s car pulls up, tucking his hands into his trousers so she doesn’t try to initiate any more physical contact.
“I’ve missed you Terry.” She says brushing up against him. Her fingertips trail along the lapels of his jacket, her head tilted up so her lips are perilous close. “Come home with me tonight. Your pretty little wife would never have to know.”
“I’d know.” He says, his voice brittle. “And the last thing I’d ever do is betray my wife.”
She withdraws then, hurt clouding her features and Terry can’t bring himself to care because he’s staring into the abyss again, wondering how he’s going to survive the next couple of months without you.
It’s the next day that he storms into the conference room where the depositions are being held. He’s done playing nice, trying to be cordial. The past few months of his life have been on hold because of the crime that’s been committed against him and he’s sick of being treated like the villain, when it was him who raised the flag in the first place.
“Charge me or let me go.” He tells them. “I have a plane to catch.”
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Three Men & A Baby - You discover your pregnant at the worst possible time.
Self Defence - You wake up in the middle of the night with John Kreese's hands locked around your throat.
Remains of the Day - Terry and you try to cope with the aftermath of John Kreese's attack.
Failure - Terry makes a decision regarding your home in the aftermath of what happened with Kreese.
Malibu - You and Terry move to a house in Malibu after the attack.
At night when Sebastian wakes you up with his kicking, you sing to him. Terry can hear it as he comes down the stairs at three in the morning, his black silk dressing gown draped over his naked form. He finds you in the living room, curled up under a plush grey blanket on the couch, your palm soothing over your baby bump.
“He keeping you up again?” Terry murmurs as he sinks into the couch alongside you, his arm draping across your shoulders, gathering you close.
“He’s supposed to be less active with the due date coming up but he just wants to party all the time.” You tell Terry, taking his hand and pressing it against your abdomen. A tiny foot nudges against his palm and he can’t help but smile.
“That’s because he’s excited to meet his Mama.” He says, his thumb tracing lightly over the tiny digits.
“He’s excited to meet you too-” You trail off as you feel a light pop between your legs. There’s a sudden gush and before you know it your pyjama bottoms are completely.
“Oh.” You say, tilting your head towards Terry. “I guess that’s gonna happen sooner than we thought.”
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The embezzlement investigation takes hold when Terry reports the crime to the FBI. He’s spent months trying to untangle it on his own and now it’s gotten to the point where he’s forced to hand over all the details to the authorities or risk looking complicit.
The unfortunate part to all of this is that he has to make himself available to investigators, which means he has to stay in the city while you undertake the gallery tour across Europe you’ve had planned for over a year now.
Ever since the exhibition with the paper airplanes went viral, galleries from around the world have been requesting both you and your artwork’s presence at their venues. They want to discuss the programs you’ve been undertaking and how to implement them in their own locations whilst showcasing your paintings.
You end up going alone and it kills Terry because things between the two of you, they’re still not entirely right after the night you asked him if he was seeing someone else. He’s tried to be more attentive but the embezzlement it’s eating up both his time and his energy. He doesn’t even get to see you off at the airport because he’s trapped in a meeting with federal investigators. You don’t say how much it disappoints you but he feels it viscerally as he tracks your flight right out of his orbit.
He worries that this trip, the distance between the two of you, it’ll be the thing that kills your marriage especially when he misses three of your calls in a row over a series of days. He tries calling you back but with the time difference, you just keep missing each other.
When the postcard arrives his heart sinks, it’s an image of the small chapel where the two of you married in Tuscany. He’s filled with an intense sadness because this was the real reason he wanted to take the trip, he’d been planning to surprise you, review your vows there and then the whole thing had gotten fucked up and now you’re barely exchanging texts.
By the time the postcard arrives from Paris you’ve been gone almost a fortnight. Terry’s eating breakfast alone, preparing for another lengthy day of depositions when the call comes through.
“Guess where I am.” You say as you appear on the screen and something in Terry’s chest just settles.
After so many missed connections he’s been dreading this call because he’s adamant it’s going to be the one where you tell him you’re done with all of this but then he sees the expression on your face and for Terry, it could light up an entire room.
“Tell me.” He urges, his voice soft and you alter the camera to show him the bench in the gallery where the two of you met. You zoom in closely and there’s a tiny heart with both of your initials drawn in the corner in black sharpie.
“Georgia,” He says fondly. “Did you deface a bench in the Louvre?”
“I’m hoping they kinda take it like a Banksy.” You tell him before turning the camera back so he can see your face. “You know how he just turns up, graffitis something and then disappears. I’ve been doing it everywhere we’ve been together on this trip. I even tagged the church.”
“You did not!” He smiles because he realises what you’ve been doing whilst you’ve been on tour, you’ve been marking your relationship, making it indelible. He can’t describe how that makes him feel, to know that you’ve been thinking about him, that you’ve been leaving the evidence of your marriage on landmarks all around the world.
“I did.” You assure him. “Right on the pew you got a little handsy that time whilst we were waiting for the priest.”
“You were wearing that white sundress.” He reminds you, propping his chin up on his hand. “Can you blame me for defiling you in a church?"
You blush then, the pink tinge climbing your cheeks because he’d made you come on his fingers on that pew, it had been embarrassingly easy because you’d gotten off on the deviance of it all.
“You look tired.” You say quietly as you settle yourself on the bench. “How are the depositions going?”
“Monotonous.” He tells you with a weary smile. “I feel like it’s taken ten years off my life.”
“Do you need me to come home?” You ask him, the concern evident in your features. “I’m sure there’s a flight I could grab…”
The fact you’re willing to cut this trip short if he needs it, it speaks volumes about your headspace about the relationship, just like your actions have. He can’t ask you to return to him, not when you’re doing such excellent work out there, not when you’re having so much fun.
“No baby girl, don’t come back until you’re ready.” He murmurs before he props his phone up against the salt shaker. “Now tell me more about where your travels.”
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Terry’s sitting on the couch, answering emails on his tablet when something white sails past his screen striking him in the chest. He frowns behind his glasses before he picks up the damp bundle of fabric, it takes him a second to realise they’re your panties.
Your white, wet panties.
His gaze comes to rest on you, sitting on the opposite side of the couch, wearing nothing but one of his button up shirts. You’ve unbuttoned it so that your cleavage is on display, your dark nipples pebbling through the white fabric.
“You’re being a bad girl Georgia.” He remarks as he sets both his tablet and glasses down on the coffee table. “I’ll have to put you over my knee.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” You say with that sinful smile of yours as you stretch out across his lap, the shirt riding up to reveal your bare skin. “Like I don’t enjoy when you punish me.”
His palm comes to rest on the cheek of your ass, squeezing it hard before he gives it a slap. The noise resounds through the room and you let out a moan as his hand soothes over your pinkening flesh before he strikes it again and then again.
Heat radiates from your ass before he starts on the other cheek, spanking it until it matches it’s twin. You’re dripping by the time he’s finished with you, the scent of your arousal flooding his senses. His fingers drift between your reddened thighs, smearing the pads with your wetness.
“Oh honey.” He purrs, tracing over your needy core. “You’re soaked already, I guess I’m going to have to take care of you aren’t I?”
He slips his fingers inside you, stroking over that sweet spot in light teasing motions that have you thrusting against the palm of his hand trying to generate more pressure.
“Terry…” You plead because you’re close, so fucking close you can feel the fireworks sizzling underneath your nerve endings.
“Baby girl.” Terry tuts, continuing at the same maddening pace. “You’re being punished remember? You don’t get to come until I say.”
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From the bad decisions prompt list can I ask for "25. So put your high heels on and diamonds around your neck" for Terry Silver? (You can ignore this ask if you're busy. I feel like I have flooded you with asks recently, I'm sorry. You just write him and Georgia so well 🖤)
I miss writing Terry and I adore writing him and Georgia so you can submit as many asks as you want for him!
Attention - Terry hasn't been paying you enough attention
Distance - The distance grows between you and Terry.
Takes place after upcoming 5000 Celebration fic - Postcards From My Heart.
After a week of depositions Terry comes home to the scent of Marc Jacobs and the sight of you wearing nothing but high heels, one of his shirts and a necklace made of sapphires that he bought you for your third wedding anniversary. He drops everything at the door because it’s been almost two months since he last touched you and he can’t stand not being with you a second longer.
“I thought you had another few months.” He murmurs as his arm wrapping around your waist drawing you against him.
Christ you feel good, so soft, so perfect. Terry can’t describe how much he’s missed you, how he wishes he’d never stumbled across the embezzlement because of all the damage it’s done.
“I do.” You murmur, your fingertips plucking the hairtie from his hair so it falls loose across his features. “But you sounded so down so I thought I’d fly back for the weekend.”
You’d been able to tell on your last phone call that Terry’s was becoming despondent. You can’t imagine the enormous pressure he’s under with the FBI investigating all of his companies and charitable foundations. All that hard work he’s been doing, it’s being undermined because some asshole decided to line his own pockets.
“Georgia…” Terry murmurs as he buries his face into your shoulder. “That’s a twelve hour flight for twenty four hours alone with me.”
“I know.” You say as you cradle him close. “But I slept on the plane and you are worth every single second it took me to get here.”
His hands tangle in the shirt as he draws you down onto the couch with him. Your thighs part, straddling his hips as you press against him and it feels like absolute heaven. Your hands thread through his hair as you guide his face back to yours. He moans into your mouth as you kiss him, his palms roaming underneath the shirt, caressing your bare skin.
“I’m sorry I fucked up our trip.” He whispers as your heated lips start to trail down the curve of his throat. Your teeth graze over that sensitive little spot underneath his jaw nipping it, and his hips arch compulsively.
“Terry.” You murmur into his ear as his grasp on your waist tightens. “I don’t want to waste time talking about something you have no control over when we could be doing something a lot more fun.”
“Georgia…” He breathes and you realise in the moment how lost he is, how much he’s struggling to get out of his own head. You run your hand through his hair, gripping it in your fist, tugging at the roots and he exhales at the sensation as if it’s the sweetest relief.
“Oh baby.” You murmur as you grind down against his cock. “I think you need me to take care of you tonight don’t you?”
“Please Georgia.” He whispers as your lips brush over his. “I need you to ruin me.”
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