heytaewrites

[heytaewrites]

Me every time I see the word “cock”

[heytaewrites]

Thinking about how aaron works so hard at maintaining his peace bc he knows the damage he can do when he's not

[heytaewrites]

Welcome to Intelligence, Officer Kiana Cook.

[heytaewrites]

.summary: terry and blaire are in shambles while aaron and brennan make things more official. .word count: 6k+ .co-writter: @zillasvilla

Blaire stood in front of her vanity toying with the zipper on her dress. The white dress was covered in red and blue flowers. She accented it with red jewelry and heels. Even Noah’s outfit for Sunday service matched. A red button up polo shirt and tan slacks. She had blown her hair out, the kinky texture creating volume. One side was pinned back in a twist. 

As she was getting dressed, Noah’s father, Terry, was getting him ready. He had brought over his clippers and it was his first big boy haircut. For the past seven years she kept Noah’s hair braided and she’d miss the way he fell asleep in her lap while she did his hair. He was already asking to spend more and more time with his Dad. 

Another frustrated grunt fell from her glossed lips as she tried pulling up the zipper, but once again, it caught on the inner fabric. She rolled her eyes and held the dress as she walked down the hall towards Noah’s room. Blaire could hear them talking and she called out to them as she came into their line of sight. 

Terry wasn’t dressed. His slacks were on and so were his shoes, but he was shirtless, holding their son’s head still as he lined up the back. Blaire looked at the sink. Her son’s curls in a dark brown pile. She turned around, the tears forming in her eyes. She hadn’t wanted to cry over his first hair cut, but seeing his hair gone sent her over the edge. 

Noah looked at his Dad after seeing his Mom walk back to her room. He knew she was going to cry over his hair. 

“Mommy cries a lot,’ Noah says. 

Terry stopped cutting and straightened up. “What do you mean?” 

”She cries a lot?” Noah wasn’t sure what else to say. “Sometimes I can hear her in her room.” He shrugged.  

Terry finished up Noah’s haircut and sent him to the kitchen for breakfast. Terry walked down the hall towards the main bedroom, where he used to lay his head. The door was cracked and he looked in to see Blaire trying to tug the zipper on her dress. Every now and then she’d sniffle; a sign she had been crying. He pushed open the door and slowly walked in. It was still decorated the same, earth tones. There was more green though he noticed. The wall behind her bed was painted in a rich emerald. The four poster bed was draped in green and brown sheets. There was a thick white comforter on top and tucked in between the pillows was a Lambchop puppet she had since she was a kid. It never left their bedroom. Her. Her bedroom. 

“You’re going to rip it,’ Terry whispers, coming up behind her to still her hands. She avoided his gaze as he looked at her in the mirror. “Blaire,’

"Not, now, Terry.” 

He placed one hand on her hip while the other zipped the dress easily. She moved to step away but he stopped her. His hands pulling her hips backwards. 

“Just listen to me, please,’ he asked. When she didn’t move he came to stand in front of her, his hands still holding her. 

There were moments when she trusted him enough to touch her, because he was quick to drop those hands where they shouldn’t be. However, when he wanted to be serious they stayed on her hips. He needed physical contact.  

“I miss my wife.” 

This had been the longest they went without being under the same roof. Yeah he was kicked to the couch a few times, or the guest room, but when she asked him to leave the house he knew he had fucked up royally. It’s been almost a year of him renting an apartment because she didn’t want him in the house. Not while he was still entertaining Summer from Rebel Ridge. And it was never like that. Blaire knew about his issue down there and what happened to Summer. She was a recovering drug user and he felt like he had to keep an eye on her. So much that it came between him and Blaire. 

“You haven’t divorced me and I think that’s because you miss me too.” 

Terry read her face and could see the truth in her eyes. He hadn’t been the only one to notice how they started to gravitate towards each other again. It wasn’t awkward at family dinners or when they had to sit beside each other. In fact, he had been able to rest his hand on her thigh. He remembered her curling her hand around his while she ate. Those moments of tenderness he missed. 

She hadn’t worn her wedding ring in months. Her hand felt light and odd without it. He still wore his. It hurt him a little to know he had upset her to that point, but she never explained how she was feeling so he was in the dark on what he himself had done. He apologized over and over to her, but he didn’t know what was holding her away from him. 

“Noah,’ she begins, shifting the focus to their son as she always did. 

“I’m talking about you. Noah is good. You’re not.” 

Blaire scoffs. “What are you talking about?” 

Terry got closer and her hands fell on his thick biceps. She could still feel the heat from his body and the bare skin was smooth to the touch, like it always was. He smelled good. He always smelled good. Blaire found herself relaxing in his arms, his scent, and the feel of his thick body against hers. He smelled like oak and pine, the outdoors, and something smokey. It was like smelling the earth after it rained. Terry knew just what to do to get her guard down. She let him do it every time. His hands rubbed her sides, pulling her back from the brink of crying again. She was such a crybaby. 

“There’s my girl,’ he coos. “Tell me why you’ve been crying.” 

“You need….,’ she stuttered, ‘you need to put on a shirt.” 

He let her go with a smile, but grabbed her hand as he was walking away. She followed him to the guest room and he made her sit on the bed while he finished getting ready. They could hear the tv going and knew Noah was waiting for them. As he did every Sunday. 

Terry was up to one night a weekend and he always picked Sunday night to stay over. It allowed him to see Noah off to school at the start of the week and he felt Sunday’s gave him more time with Blaire. 

“Why are you sitting there like that,’ he asked, frowning as she picked at the hem of her dress. 

She looked up and shrugged. “Because whenever you sat me on the bed you were scolding me for something. Acting like my damn daddy,’ she mumbled. 

Terry had been over protective since the day they met. He walked on the side of street when they were out, he opened her doors, held her hand when she wore heels because he knew she got tired, his jacket was hers while he was drenched in the rain, the list went on and on. Terry was what social media called a ‘traditional man’ or ‘masculine’ by their gendered stereotypes. Full on Daddy kink with him and he took it seriously. Despite all that, and despite her own independence, she liked that he made her feel helpless, she just hated when that turned into hopelessness. 

Blaire could go get all the jars in the kitchen and he’d stand there and open them for her, but she couldn’t tell him how much he had actually hurt her seven years ago. 

“Don’t leave out how much of a brat you can be.” He tsks. 

Blaire watched him pull a blue shirt from the closet, the material was stretchy but if it was the shirt she bought him, then it wasn’t going to stretch much. That shirt was sized perfectly. He slipped his arms into it with his back to her. She watched him tuck the shirt in and add a belt. 

Terry was rough around the edges. Always had been. He played football in high school, went to the Marines right after, she knows he does a few classes at the YMCA for boxing and still keeps up with his jiu jitsu training. When he wasn’t at those places he was hauling concrete slabs and shit with her father. He was blue collar through and through and at one point him coming home was the highlight of her day. She didn’t mind working and coming home to cook for him. He made her feel safe enough to do it. He never took advantage of it and when he would come home to her having forgot or was behind he’d step in and do it. 

Terry was damn near perfect. Except he was so damn helping. His morality being his vice. He would stretch himself thin trying to help and it would push her away. 

“I can’t begin to fix what I broke if you won’t tell me, dushi.”

“We don’t have time before Church to talk about this.” Blaire stood up and headed for the door. 

Terry would normally let her go, to not stir up another fight, but he was tired of her running. In a few strides he was in front of her, closing the door. 

“You can’t keep running from this Blaire.” 

“I’m not running.” 

Terry rolled his eyes. “We’re going to have this talk tonight. Or,’ he sighed. 

Blaire leaned back from him, crossing her arms at this point. “Or what?” 

“I’m done. No matter how much I miss you, if we can’t clear this up, I’m done.”  

The light from beneath their door shined through the cracks and her soft humming filled his ears. Aaron groans while stretching out his legs and swinging them over the bed. The morning sun was starting to peek through the windows as he squinted. He could feel when she wasn’t in bed, her side having been cold for a while. He reached for his glasses, the thin frames sitting on his nose as he stood up and stretched.

He sifted through large brown moving boxes–some of them labeled as clothes or shoes. They had yet to finish unpacking, living out of boxes in the shared bedroom. He and Brennan had been together for three years before finally moving in together. He finds what he needs in one of the smaller boxes, while picking his phone up. He checked his messages while peeking through the small crack of the bathroom. Her rich complexion shines in the mirror. Brennan’s hands were working the small black flat iron over a small section of hair.

Aaron: Come do Bre’s hair in two hours Nique: It's 4 in the morning. You're not about to sweat out her hair. Aaron: I will pay you. Nique: Text me a time.

Aaron shakes his head while putting his glasses back on the dresser. Her soft humming gets louder as he walks in the bathroom. Her eyes found him through the mirror.

“Gud mɔnin, ɔni”. 

Aaron’s morning voice was something Brennan had to get used to. It was deeper, raspier, and certain words just came out in that thick Krio accent that he husked in ear on the nights she used to stay in his town home.. Aaron’s lips leaned over to kiss her cheek. Brennan relaxes against him as his arms circled around her waist. This was their first Sunday morning together. They were used to parting ways the night before or she was already at her mom’s place. Aaron had become a nice change to her morning routine, usually sitting up with her, a book in hand while she did her morning routine–stealing quick kisses here and there. 

“What I say about talkin’ to me like that.”

Aaron only speaks in Krio when he wants to fluster her. She had learned what a few words meant.

“Oni.” Honey.

Brennan’s fingertips stroke lightly on his arms, the pads of them rubbing along the visible veins. The time on her phone reads four-thirty. Service started at 11, and she knew her momma was gonna have some words if they didn’t make it on time. She bites her lip. “Service starts at eleven, baby.”

Aaron turns his head into her neck, pressing soft gentle kisses along the length of it. “Mhm. then why are you up so early?” Her hair was already down, Nique had come over the day before and blown and pressed her hair–and here she was going over it when she didn't have to. He preferred it in its natural state, loving the way her curls bounced and framed around her face.

“You know how my hair is.” Her eyes closed at the feeling while he opened his eyes to watch her in the mirror. The curves of her body, and the swell of her breast covered in a thin silk material that stopped mid thigh. Her breast jiggled beneath the dress, he could see the outline everytime she moved. “Can’t be late for Church either.”

“We're making a baby.” Just as quick as he turned her around, he had her sitting on the sink, pushing his way between her thighs and making the nightdress bunch at the waist. His green eyes scanned over her features with a bit of his lip.

“Aaron.” She feels his fingers sneak up the material, his hands warm against her skin. She leans forward to wrap her arms around his neck.

7:30

Aaron sat up against the headboard with different hair products scattered around him as he adjusted Brennan's head in his lap. Their early morning session led to her hair getting wet in the shower. He had already texted a friend to come fix it, but decided to speed up the process by helping her blow dry and braid it. Brennan comfortably fell asleep during the process as his thick greased fingers parted and braided the last side of her head. 

He would've been done sooner but he found himself watching her sleep;  the rise and fall of her back, the way her nose and eyebrows scrunch together when she was dreaming about something. How she let out soft whines when he moved to grab some more grease into his fingers. 

Her hair soft between his fingers was braided down to the crown of her head He secured the last braid to the others with a clear rubber band.

“Didn’t I just do your hair?” Dominique asks. She had come over to fix her hair-having seen the braid down Aaron did, she sped through securing the wig for her. She spoke through the comb between her teeth. Her right hand held onto bonding spray–the left covered her eyes as she shook the can and sprayed wig glue across the wig cap. 

“A-a-ron thought it be a good idea to fuck in the shower.” Aaron in the guest room taking a shower. They had set up in the dining room–the only room set up with higher chairs. They only had an hour before they had to leave and now she was rushing to finish. 

“And you let him?” While she let Brennan’s hair air dry a little, she put up the stuff she brought, leaving out what she would need to style her hair. 

Brennan bites her lip, watching her face through the decorative mirror that she finally unpacked and made her Dad put up for her.. 

“Well this is our first morning in our first house.” Brennan was sentimental–everything always had a meaning for her and Aaron being the sappy man he was fed into that shit. The two were joined at the hip.. Dominique didn’t understand why they were hiding it. 

“Girl.” Dominique shakes her head–she has a blow dryer in hand on high heat to speed the drying process.

“What?” She bites back a smile. 

“You and him might as well be married.” She finishes, sectioning off the hair to curl the ends. “That man ain’t letting you go any time soon.” Dominique was the only one outside of her family that knew the two of them were really together–catching them both at the gas station down the street from Melanin Preparatory Academy.

Brennan stood between him and the car while he pumped gas in her car. His free hand rested on her hip as they talked–Brennan hid a smile behind the drink she was holding, whatever he was saying to her had her flustered. She had never seen Brennan so soft. 

“Kinda don’t want him to.” Brennan bites her lip.

Aaron had walked into the room fully dressed. He was simple when it came to fashion–especially when it came to church. The brown turtleneck shirt fitting loose around his frame-larger sizes gave his arms room to flex. A pair of black dark washed jeans that stacked a little at the ankles. She caught a whiff of the cologne he was wearing. Clive Christian. The wood spiced  scent made her wonder who else he was trying to smell good for. He glances at her frowning face with a chuckle.

He sets down their coffee to walk over to where she was sitting.

Dominique, having already finished the last curl, turned away to pack up her stuff. 

Aaron leans over Brennan to keep her seated in the chair. She had to tilt her head up to look at him. The smell of him was stronger than the moment before and she knew for sure it was about to linger on her. 

Their lips smack against each others in a quick, but lingering kiss.

“Fiks ya fes.” He whispers against her mouth before pulling back. 

Brennan’s mind was jumbled as he walked away. He grabbed the black mug and the caramel scent hit her nose as he sat  it on the table. Coffee–made exactly how she likes. He held his own while moving to sit in the den, the large tv playing several highlight reels and a few stack of papers and a stapler.

“Nigga-”

“You got until I'm done or we're gonna be late.” 

“I'm almost done.” Dominique curled the last few pieces of hair. Brennan was lucky she had bought a new wig. She didn’t like the length of it but knew Brennan would. “Are you dressed already?”

“Yeah, just gotta put my shoes on.”  

Brennan had already put on a black silk button up, and her own black jeans. The only thing she could get to with Aaron's clothes in the way. The closet was too small and she was really close to calling her dad to build her a new one. Brennan can feel the mist of hair spray being put on her hair, letting her know she was done. Aaron was half-way through with his task when she looked over at him. 

“You're stapling papers?”

“First day of school tomorrow and picture day.” He answers like she doesn't already know. He was the reason they were probably gonna be late. “Where's your shoes?” He looks back at her down to her pretty brown feet, toenails in a sharp white color- a small gold anklet peeking from the leg of her pants. The same one that dangled over his shoulder while he thrust–he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. If it was him they would stay home, but her mama would beat his ass if she knew he was the reason they were late. 

“I'm going to get them.” She pulls Dominique in a quick hug and thanking.

Aaron shook his head, turning around to pack up the last stack of stapled papers. He could hear hear race up the stairs and Dominique packing the last of her stuff and jiggling her keys. 

“Alright, I want my money Aaron!” Dominique rushes to the door, pointing in his direction.

She expected he would Zelle it to her until his voice echoes to her.  He had looked up just as Brennan comes around to stand in front of him. She wore a pair of black wedges that he was sure she was going to pull off in the truck.

“It’s by the front door Dominique."

She spots the bills peeking out from under the key bowl. It looked like a good four hundred.

 “Oooh! And you tipped! I see you big spender.” She grabs the money, pocketing it into her purse. “Bye girl, I’ll see you tonight.”

Once the door closed he pulled Brennan into his chest as he stood up. “You look real good.” He kisses her cheek and moves around her to grab his keys. “Let’s go before your mama beat my ass.” 

Sunday Service had been particularly short compared to the long services they were used to growing up– but they weren’t complaining. The sun beamed down on them as they exited the church. Aaron and Terry had gone to grab the car, Noah going along with them so the AC could be running before they got in. Brennan and Blaire waited for their mom to finish talking to a few friends back inside. They probably wanted her to cook for the next church potluck. 

“Thank you, again Angela.” 

“Alright, see you,” She waves at one of the other church members while coming down the steps to stand in front of her daughters with a shake of her head, she follows Brennan’s gaze to Aaron who was tossing Noah, their nephew in the air and catching him. She places a hand on her hip as Blaire completely ignores Terry looking at her.

“That was Ms. Gladys.” 

“Mhm.” Brennan hums, eyes never leaving him even as he gets in the truck.

“She said she dreamt about fishes last night. Brennan, are you pregnant?” 

“Why are we talking about this on the lord’s steps?” She looks confused trying to figure out what she’s talking about. Blaire laughs from behind her. “And why are you asking me? Blaire could be pregnant.”

“Don’t put that on me.” Blaire stops laughing and points her finger at her sister. “He’s already been bothering me to talk all week.”

”When are you going to tell him?” Brennan asks, not caught up on the latest Blaire & Terry episode. “It’s been seven years, Blaire, the man has practically groveled at your feet.” 

She knew her sister was right, but, if anything, she was scared. Not of Terry, but actually losing him. His ultimatum from this morning was heavy on her. The sudden fear of not having him at all? 

“He’s not going to wait long, Blaire,’ their mother added. 

“I know!” She hissed. Brennan and Angela looked at Blaire with wide eyes. “He told me that this morning. Either we figure it out or he’s done trying.” 

The last thing she wanted to do was tell her mother and sister what Terry had said, but pretty much everyone was on his side and they didn’t fully understand how she felt. 

“Wait,’ Angela softens her tone at Blaire’s somber expression. 

“He said what?” Brennan chimed in. “Oh he’s serious this time.” 

They quickly changed the subject when Aaron and Terry came back. Noah was already in his seat. 

“Y'all ready,’ Terry asked, his eyes on Blaire and she rubbed her arm. 

“Hell yes,’ Brennan shouts, then covers her mouth when Angela smacked her arm. “Ow, my bad!” 

Terry held out his hand as Blaire reached for the rail. She took his hand and let him guide her towards his truck. Confused, she looked over her shoulder. 

“Where are we going?” 

Terry stopped at the truck and leaned her against it. “I need to know now.” He says. 

“What? You said we would talk tonight,’ Blaire replied. 

“I don’t want to wait. I don’t want you to have time to give me some politically correct answer. I want to know now.” He tucked his hands into his pockets. “Do you want to stay married?” 

“Yes!” 

Blaire looked up at him. The word falling from her mouth with little hesitation made Terry feel slightly better about where this was going. 

“Do you want me back in the house?” 

She nodded. “All the time.” 

Terry was confused then. She wanted everything he wanted but she was pushing him away. 

“Then why are you so upset with me?” 

“Can we talk about this with a bit more privacy?”  

Everyone was waiting by the other car, staring in their direction. When she looked over his shoulder and waved, they all jumped- pretending they weren’t watching. 

“I don’t want to be church gossip.” 

“Come on so we can eat!” Brennan groans from the backseat of her mom’s car. “Noah, tell your parents to hurry up.” She glances at her nephew.

Noah looked to his aunt with a ‘do you think I’m dumb’ expression. 

“We’ll just see them at the house.” Angela waves them off. “And why ain’t you with Aaron, Bre?” She looks at her youngest daughter in the backseat. "Why are ya'll always I my car?"

“He said he had to talk to Daddy about something.” she shrugs, pulling off her heels. “Men things.”

“What he got to talk to him for.” Angela shakes her head. “Markus better not be at my house, Brennan.”

Marcus parked the truck in front of Angela’s house. He cuts the engine while looking over at the passenger side. Aaron had been quiet the whole ride. His leg bounced nonstop and he could see the nervous posture he had.

“You gon speak or what?”

Aaron didn’t get nervous often. He usually keeping his composure in any setting, however talking to Brennan’s dad about something so important. He just couldn’t shake the anxiety he was feeling right now. His hands were clammy as he wiped them on his jeans.

“It’s about Brennan.”

“Yeah? Something wrong?”

“No. No.” He sighs finally making eye contact with Marcus whose face was etched with concern. “She perfect… I just wanted to ask you something.”

“You want my blessing.” Marcus asks him, seeing where he was going with the conversation.

Marcus had half expected for them two to elope or have a Vegas-style wedding. His youngest daughter was his wild child. He’s learned over the years that she was mini-Angela. He thought she would be the one to end up with Terry, the both of them were hot heads-however Brennan wanted Aaron. “Thought you two would elope.”

Aaron lets out a soft chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. He doesn’t look him right in the eye. Marcus takes that silence for an answer to a question he didn’t even have to ask. “When.”

“June 17th.”

Marcus thinks of the date, turning in his seat to look at Aaron, an oh wow expression on his face. “And on her Birthday too.” He has to open the car door and get out, confusing Aaron and making him get out to. He stuffed in his hands in his pockets. Marcus walk around the front, stopping in front of Aaron in disbelief.

“So why are you asking me for my blessing. You did it behind my back already.”

“I wanna do it right this time.” Aaron could see another car pull into the driveway.

The doors open, Angela, Brennan and Noah. The three of them heading into the house.

“Right my ass.” Marcus grumbles. “What are you gonna tell me next, that she is pregnant?” Aaron makes a face and turns around, he jogs up the brick steps just as Marcus yells out. “Yo, Aaron! She better not be!”

Angela and Brennan had set the table, Noah in the other room, watching cartoons. The food was catered from Cajun Station, the scent of fish that lingered from being warmed in the oven masked by a lit candle. Brennan had snuck pieces of of shrimp to snack on, sneaking a few pieces to Noah.

“You’ve been gaining weight Bre.” Angela says from the kitchen. “You sure you ain't pregnant.” She brings the conversation from earlier backup. She noticed a certain glow to her and it wasn’t because her and Aaron finally moved in together.

“No mama.” She groans wondering where her sister is. She moves to look out the window. Aaron and her dad were still talking. She watched as Terry’s truck pull in.

Blaire slid out the front seat having stopped by the house to change. She switched to a white sundress and sandals. She had a bag in her hand and Terry’s half smile could be seen from the front porch.

”Stop looking at me like that,’ Blaire says.

“It feels good,’ he replies, while shutting her door.

“What feels good?”

“To know my wife missed me.”

He leaned in as if he was going to kiss her but instead pulled the bag from her hands to carry. The front door opened and the screen smacked against the wall as Noah ran towards his parents. Their private moment was interrupted, but Blaire knew it was going to be a long night.

“Let’s get inside, Terry,’ she pushed at his arm, guiding the son back towards the door. He followed behind them. She sent Noah back to the table and grabbed Terry’s hand before pulling him to the kitchen.

Terry had sent Blaire upstairs once they got home. It was the night before picture day and with it being the first day of school Noah had been anxious. So much that he had been telling Blaire he didn’t want to go. Knowing Blaire, she’d keep him home until he was ready, opting to homeschool instead of helping him to grow up. 

Helping Noah, Terry sits on the floor by his son's bed, mostly to get his backpack and clothes ready for the next day. He did his full nighttime routine while they waited for dinner to be delivered. Neither parent wanted to cook and with their talk looming over their heads, their minds were occupied. 

Giving Noah a snack he had him sit in the den. TV time was rare in the house, but Terry managed to get Blaire to compromise on a few shows on the weekends. Finding Blaire in the same place he did this morning, Terry closed the bedroom door behind him as he walked in. 

“Alright,’ he says, ‘let’s talk.” 

She sat up on the bed, tucking her legs under. 

“I miss you being in the house and the routine we had, just all of what we had.” 

“So why am I in an apartment?” He folded his arms across his chest. “If you want me here.” 

Her bottom lip started to poke out and her eyes welled up. Shit. Terry thought. He forgot she was a bit of a crybaby. 

“What did I do, Blaire?” 

Seven years of pent up frustration had finally blown over. The resentment she held onto had no base to hold onto once she spoke. 

“It felt like you put Summer before me and Noah.” 

Terry’s shoulders rolled back as her words blew him. “You weren’t answering your phone.” She went on, telling him the same story, this time he had perspective. Hers. “Brennan called, my mom called, my dad, your brother!” The tears poured down her face as she hissed the words at him, trying to keep her voice low. “You just barely made it to see him be born.” 

“I apologized for that, over and over, Blaire. I’ve begged you to forgive me for that.” 

“I have!” 

“Then..” 

“You shouldn’t have been late.” Blaire threw up her hands. “You should have dropped whatever you were doing and came to me. Your wife.” 

“She-’

"Oh fuck her!” She snaps. “Labor was hell for me. I had to lie there knowing where you were! And you to have the audacity to give me an ultimatum.” 

There was no arguing her on this. She was right. He cut it close to Noah’s birth and he knew she had been upset with him over it, but to cling to it for seven years? He understood the bitterness now. He never apologized for putting her second, because that's exactly what he had done. 

“You missed that. It wasn’t your hand I was holding. It wasn’t you telling me to push. You just barely made it! Then you came in smiling like you had been there! I wanted to sock that fucking grin off your face.” She punches her hand for emphasis and Terry looks down. 

“Now,’ she says, plopping down on the bed, ‘how can you fix that? How can you fix my trust in you?” 

Speechless, Terry rubbed a hand down the back of his head. 

“I’ve never felt so vulnerable,’ she explains, ‘and alone, my husband somewhere-’

Terry slipped into the bed with her, carefully reaching out to pull her into his arms. She fought him at first and he held his hands up. She didn’t get off the bed so he tried again and successfully pulled her into his chest. She looked up at him, eyes drenched in her tears. She couldn’t even keep up with wiping them away as they fell. 

He’d known Blaire all his life. Having grown up a few houses away from her she was one of the few neighborhood families that welcomed the Richmond family when they moved in. Blaire had always been a cryer. Her emotions so big she couldn’t help but cry. Instead, this time she was crying because of him. That he didn’t like. Holding her, he rubbed his hands up and down her back. He brought his hand around, using his thumb to wipe at the tears on her face. Blaire sucked in a deep breath, trying not to cry again. 

“Are you mad at me?” She asked. 

“What,’ he whispered, ‘no!” His head shook. “I just didn’t know how much I hurt you. Now I do.” 

She noticed he didn’t have on a shirt and she pushed at his chest. “Why don’t you ever have on a shirt?” 

“I’m hot natured, you know that.” Terry cupped her face, his fingers stroking the hair on the back of her neck. “Are you going to let me earn your trust back?” 

“Yeah I can t-’

"Don't try anything." His thumbs pressed to her lips. “Just be my wife again. Let me fix it.” 

The tv was on pause as Aaron kept her in a heated kiss. The two of them had returned home after a day with their family, Publix, and a quick run to Men’s Warehouse for Aaron. School started back tomorrow and it was picture day–he wanted to get a shirt that matched her outfit for their pictures. 

“We’re supposed to be watching the movie.” She reaches over him to sneak some popcorn and move her legs across his lap.

His arms come down from the back of the couch. His hands warm against her thigh while rubbing her smooth skin. After getting takeout, and coming home to finish unpacking, she found some of his old high-school shirts. Her name was etched into one of the sleeves in black sharpie and it became the shirt she decided she wanted to sleep in. His lips press against hers, using the hand on her thigh to pull her closer. She’s almost in his lap when she giggles.

“You’ve seen this one a thousand times.” He mumbles, rubbing his hand up to grab her ass, massaging the flesh between his fingers. 

“So, it’s my favorite movie.” she pushes him back to get up. She slides her feet into the stitch slippers he randomly got her.

Aaron’s face drops in a ‘where you going look', the dark lighting making his hazel-coloured eyes look sharper.  “I’m going to the bathroom.” She points to the tv. “Restart it.”

“We ain’t gon’ watch it.” He lets her go to grab the remote.

“You probably won’t but I am.”

Aaron shakes his head and restarts the movie but pauses it on the opening scene of SharkTale. Once he hears the bathroom door close, he rushes to a small room just off the den. 

Brennan took her time in the bathroom, relieving herself while reaching into the sink cabinet to pull out a small black gift bag. She set it on the sink vanity, finishing up to stand and wash her hands. Aaron was still sitting in his spot, arms resting in the back of the couch, phone tucked in his left hand to scroll through messages. Her eyes trail up his fingers–they look naked.

“You gon’ come sit down or keep starin'.” 

“I got something for you.” She moves around the couch, forgetting that she was staring. How could she not when he looked the way he does? He gives her his attention–phone dropping somewhere on the couch. 

“What is it.” 

Aaron sits up with a cheesy grin, eyes flickering from the small bag in her hands to her face. She sits next to him and puts the bag on the coffee table. “Gotta open it and see.”

“I got you somethin’ to.” He reaches on the side of the couch to pull out a small blue bag and place it in front of her. “Open yours first.”

Brennan grabs the blue gift bag–reaching inside she pulls out a small black velvet box. “Aaron.” She pulls her lip between her teeth to hide back a knowing smile. The material was soft beneath her fingers. The pads of them over the name ingrained in it. He reaches over to open it for her. The round cut diamond shines in her face that was accented with smaller ones. “This is beautiful.” 

Brennan had her eye on the woodland wedding set since the moment they decided to elope. Aaron had seen her looking at the rings on a jewelry website a few months ago. In the midst of them deciding to elope they hadn't thought about rings. She had been dropping hints the past few weeks, not realizing he already had the ring sized and delivered to his brother's apartment. 

She holds her left hand out palm down, making him chuckle at the excitement in her voice. “Put it on for me?”

He gently grabs the ring and silver band between his fingers. It slid on her fourth finger like butter. The silver-leafed band fitting snug below her left knuckle. Brennan would have to get used to the new weight on her finger, but her heart swelled knowing Aaron paid attention to details. 

Brennan almost forgets about her gift. “Open yours.” 

Aaron kind of had a clue on what it was when he pulled out the small wood grained box. The material smoothed against his fingers as he opened the box. “Damn.”

Brennan grins at the appreciative look on his face-eyes squinting as he pulls out the black and gold band. “Do you need your glasses?”

“Nah, baby. This.” He blows out with a small laugh and a smile that reaches his eyes. “It's perfect.”

Tungsten Carbide wasn’t a cheap material. The gold interior and then cut around it accented the black texture. She pulls it from his fingers and grabs his left hand. She had to sneak a couple of his other rings just to get it sized right. He watches her grin as it fits snugly around his ring finger.

“Now them bitches can know you're married.” 

@liquourlaughslove @heytaewrites @wrestlingprincess80 @simplyzeeka @prettyfilmz @venusesworld @nayaesworld @peachbuttetfly @harmshake @heauxvibez @avoidthings @mymindisneverhere @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @eilujion @heytaewrites @nahimjustfeelingit-writes

@browngirldominion @insidefeelingofanadult @blackerthings @gwenda-fav @brandithecrystalgem @captainwithoutmakingitlove @dremmmm @kindofaintrovert @thegreatlibraryofalex @jimmybutlrr @beenathembo @kuromiish @virgomess @bbyxgall @theereina @randomhood @ash-ketchumzzz @dundienominated @mymindisneverhere

[heytaewrites]

FREAKTOBER 07 | terry richmond.

RATING: 18+ NSFW mature.

🎀 FREAKTOBER MASTERLIST 🎀

If there was one word that he would use to describe you, it would be perfection.

Skin as dark as the richest cocoa beans, lips plump and inviting with the softest, natural pout that he wanted to taste, beautiful eyes – always wide with curiosity and wonder and teeth naturally icy white and momentarily distracting from your lips. You belonged on the billboards of Times Square and the covers of magazines.

That’s how perfect you were – as if perfection had never existed before you.

Every word that left your lips, Terry listened with intent. He captured every single word with his ears and eyes. That was how captivated he was by you. His infatuation with you was almost like a possession of his body.

“Fuucckk.” Terry hissed to himself as he grabbed his growing hard-on. So lost in his thoughts of you, he had forgotten that he was in the shower. The beads of water rolled down his muscular back as he looked down at his dick that was swelling in his palm. Battling with his conscious, Terry tried to overcome the impulsiveness to close his palm into a fist and tug, but images of your body flashed throughout his mind. There you were, rolling and thrashing beneath him as he rolled his hips into you.

He closed his eyes as he succumbed to his urges. His fist closed around his dick, he gripped his length and pulled forward.

Oh shit.

Then he tugged backward.

Fuuuck.

He wanted to stop. He knew that he should stop. However, the intensity of his attraction and the frustration mounting did not allow him to stop as his last memory of you was framed in his mind. You had asked him to take a look at your clogged bathtub and like a menace, you had opened the door in nothing but a towel. The entire time, you hovered around him with the towel as your only cover up. And he had almost survived the visit until you moved to hug him, and the fabric fell in between you. Your perfectly round mounds perked up at him as your freshly, trimmed pussy sat in the valley of your thighs.

Terry remembered that in that moment, all he wanted to do was eat you until you were nothing but a ball of gibberish. The last of his restraint is what pulled him out of your apartment, across the hallway and into his own unit. In his own personal space to unleash his hunger.

Here he was, under his showerhead – his mind playing the vision of you as he desperately worked to reach relief … relief from his thoughts, relief from you.

Forward and back.

Over and over.

Twist and pull.

The steam that was rising around Terry intensified the moment, which made it harder for him to breathe but he did not care, he was too focused on his racing thoughts, chasing his high.

His muscles interlocked, stiffening as he rocked his hips into his fist. His groan rang out as his toes lifted from the bottom of the shower.

Forward and back.

Over and over.

Twist and pull.

His peak was near. He could feel it from the tingling at the base of his spine, the twitching of his hips and the rolling of his eyes. Terry’s hand was beginning to ache but still …

Forward and back.

Over and over.

Twist and pull.

Your beauty did not leave his mind, staying in the underside of his eyelids – afraid that you would disappear along with his climax. His vivid imagination conjuring the image of you on your knees, your wide eyes looking up at him, waiting to receive.

Forward and back.

Over and over.

And the moment of unnerving came for Terry. Right there, beneath the head of the shower as the water cascaded down his rigged back, his molten grey eyes opened in time to see the fruition of his labour, the cumulation of his desire for you seep from his tip and onto the tiled floor.

“Arrhh!” An animalistic growl left him as his orgasm rocked his body. His hands were on the wall, supporting his frame as his peak had left him disarmed with his strength diminished. He stood there, waiting out his climatic coma then he began to consider what he had done. After several months of composure and discipline, he gave into his desire, relieving the sexual tension that he had been supressing.

All gone within minutes.

Finding his strength, Terry tossed a towel around his waist and left the bathroom. As he prepared for a quiet night in, the crooning of Janet Jackson in the background – he tried to let go of his thoughts of his shower escapade. He had only been sated … for now.

The coldness of the kitchen floor shook him awake as he walked towards his fridge. He grabbed a bottle of water and chugged the contents of the bottle until only half was left.

Just as Terry was about to reach for a lunchbox of his prepped dinner, three small knocks came to his door. A chill travelled down the length of his spine – a sense of knowing settling within him of who it could be.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

Not bothering to cover his bare torse, more eager to confirm his suspicions, Terry crossed the floor to the front door. The soft knocking had stopped but the steady beating of his heart against his chest had not.

He unlocked the door and widened it to see who it was. And there you were.

His perfection.

Your eyes widened at the sight of his naked chest greeting you. Terry smirked at the comical reaction that you had given him. You were holding onto a white plastic bag in your hands in front of you and only then did he register the smell of food.

The intense hold of his stare was making you squirm. Your usual gravity-defying curls were wrapped and secured in a scarf, exposing your delicate neck. He unconsciously licked his lips. You were dressed in a low-cut tank top and pyjama bottoms. The single straps on each shoulder could only mean one thing. The evidence was clear on your chest.

His assessment caused you to be bashful.

“What can I do for you Miss YN?” Terry asked as he let go of the door but held onto the frame. His towering figure forced you to brace your neck upward to meet his alluring eyes.

“I-uh.” You stuttered, letting go of the bag of food with one hand to lift your manicured nail to scratch your skull. “I just wanted to thank you fixing my tub earlier. I ordered a lot more Chinese takeaway than I can handle, I figured we could share.”

“Is the food a thank you gift or did you want to share it with me?” His eyebrow quirked up as he crossed his arms over broad chest. The bulging of his muscles made you momentarily lose your focus. Your lips softly parted as you exhaled.

You were here in front of him, looking as delectable as ever. To him, you were here unknowingly serving yourself on a platter. Or maybe you did know and that was why you were here.

“I’d say a bit of both.” You admitted, finally drawing your eyes away from his chest and back to meet his eyes.

“Alright then, Miss YN. Come in.” Terry smiled as he licked his lips. Before he took the food out of your hands, he moved out of the way to let you into his home. Terry closed the door and secured the locks. You were staying and by the end of the night, you were going to wish that you had just left the food at his door with a note.

Because he was hungry.

And not for this food in his hand.

reading list: @hopefulromantic1 @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @cocobutterqwueen @uzumaki-rebellion @blowmymbackout @mochachocolatteyaya @greedyjudge2 @miyuhpapayuh @melaninpov @pickingupmymercedes @lewisroscoelove @kindan3rdy951 @elyseesarchive @sl33p-deprived-princess @soiguessimtheshit @acidlv @kriegertops @ermlolol @theogbadbitch @trinitoldyouso @ethereal555 @astrorainbow @jazziejax @laylaynaynay130 @khalaaylah @plan666 @crissrou @cookiecutterzers56 @cameroncrazie13 @shescatrinaxo @wvvkndvibez @st4rgirliesstuff @gwenda-fav @fineanddandy @planetblaque @deja-r @kiraonthegooo @apimp-named-slickback @playgurlxoxo @gojosbabyma @heytaewrites @leilaxaliel @dyttomori @tasteofmyrainboe @livvy-lovess @violetmuses @jeanellepatrice @kaisage45 @planetnique

[heytaewrites]

.summary: Their university had some of the best conjurers in the world. A group of powerful beings forced to fight for equal rights they were entitled to as citizens of the country. In the midst of that, Malcolm X (Aaron Pierre) leads a secret organization hellbent on taking what is theirs. The waiting game and peace was over. The only thing that could stand in his way was Sasha Laveau -a powerful conjurer and the current Madam Protector- and his growing affection for the sweet and caring woman beneath the power.

.some character information: Malcolm in this is a little more rough around the edges. He does some questionable things through out the story.

Prologue:

Laveau University was the top school of magic for African Americans in the country. Hidden in the Louisiana bayou, the college boasted some of the best magical users. Yet, that wasn’t why the school saw such high enrollment rates over the past three years. That had to do with Professor X, a radical leader in the movement for magical rights for black people. He was tall, smooth talking, and handsome though that’s what Sasha heard. The counselor had heard the whispers of his classes, seen the way girls young and old linger around after hours to gossip about how much of a gentleman he was.

She had seen him a couple of times on campus, greeting students warmly as he walked in his long coats and hats. His glasses were black and clear, the frames exposed around the edges. He had smooth skin, full lips, and he was dangerously tall.

Sasha sat up in her chair, thankful her office door was closed because she was sure if anyone walked by they would see her fanning herself at the thought of a professor like she was one of the students. It wasn’t like her group chat with the majorette coach, english department head, and girls magical parkour team hadn’t spoken about the smooth talking conjurer.

As she was closing another student’s file, three soft knocks landed on her door.

“Come in,’ she called, her eyes scanning the new email she just got.

CAMPUS WILL BE CLOSED FOR WARDING. STUDENTS MUST TRANSPORT HOME BY THE END OF CLASS TOMORROW AND NO LATER THAN 4:30 PM.

Why hadn’t she been given a heads up? Before she could reply to the email in a separate chain, the object of so many desires stepped into her office. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, the black sigils in his arms exposed. He wore suspenders today, the crisp white shirt beneath went well with his gray slacks and brown shoes.

“Good evening, Counselor Laveau.” He said.

Yes, she was a descendant of the founding Laveau family. She had chosen to become a counselor instead of a professor. She could connect with the students in more of a trainer role. She loved using her magic. She was one of the most powerful conjurers on campus.

Malcolm's voice was as rich as she had heard it to be. He looked like everyone else, slightly tired but there might have been a herb or two floating around his tea for alertness. Sasha’s own alwaysful enchanted cup stayed warm and ready when she wanted it. She wondered what his blend was.

“Yes Professor X?” She replied, finding her voice after looking away from his eyes. “If this is about the warding email, I’m just now getting it. I would have pre warned if I was awa-‘

“No no no,’ he says, taking a step forward, further into her office, into her space. “Did you finish the email?”

He had looked around her messy desk, student files, her grimoire, a quill, and the remnants of what looked to be an attempt at a spell. He watched as she looked back at her screen in confusion, then surprise, then slight disappointment. The latter had been the opposite for him.

“I also didn’t know they had us doing the warding,’ she abruptly stood up.

Some tension is released in her shoulders. She had more time to finish up her work as warnings took priority for the pair that had to do them. That meant his classes for not only tomorrow, but the rest of the week were canceled as there was a heavy sickness that came with warding no magic could relieve.

“I really told them about not telling me beforehand.” She sighed.

“I can do the preparations.” He offered, sensing her haste to gather her things.

“I can not ask you to do that alone. We both know the ramifications of that.” She shrugged and ran a hand through her fresh silk press.

She was going to sweat this bitch out and she just got it. Ramona was going to kill her next week.

“It must be urgent,’ she turns her back to him, reaching towards her shelf for a small book on the top shelf.

Whispering a few words, she turns her hand palm up and beckons the book off the shelf. Slowly, it appeared floating to her open palm with ease.

Malcolm had heard how the Leveau women used their magic freely. It allowed them a safe way to decompress after using heavier magic. It smelled floral and spicy, a delightful mix of flowers and her bayou blood.

“I can meet you in the common room in about an hour. I have to gather some things and change.”

Grabbing her purse she poured out the contents of her steaming mug and placed it upside down so it wouldn’t refill in her absence. Second nature, she used a series of small hand movements and the room began tidying itself, the computer shut off and while she slung her arms into her jacket, the blinds and lights closed and turned off. The only light was now the golden orb that followed all the Laveau women. Their familiars and their anchor between the real and spiritual worlds.

“Are you sure there is nothing I can do to take some of the load,’ he pressed.

He wouldn’t admit it was his first major warding. And for it to be with a Laveau of all people he was concerned about meeting their standards so directly. He was a skilled conjurer, mostly defensive, but she was an embodiment of what their magic came from. Power seeped through her pores and yet, she was flustered, unprepared, and dare he say relatable. He was excited to spend this week getting to know her, as peers, of course.

“Bring lots of food and plenty of clothes. The isolation afterwards is the worst part.”

Taglist: @nayaesworld @peachbuttetfly @harmshake @heauxvibez @avoidthings @mymindisneverhere @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @eilujion @heytaewrites @browngirldominion @insidefeelingofanadult @blackerthings @gwenda-fav @brandithecrystalgem @captainwithoutmakingitlove @dremmmm @kindofaintrovert @jimmybutlrr @beenathembo @theereina @randomhood @ash-ketchum @dundienominated @zillasvilla

[heytaewrites]

FREAKTOBER 06 | jules koundé.

RATING: 18+ NSFW mature. Google translated French.

🎀 FREAKTOBER MASTERLIST 🎀

The cool night air hit your skin, but the heat between you and Jules was more than enough to set the whole city on fire.

You barely had time to think before you were pushed up against the railing of the balcony of the hotel room, Jules’s rough hands were already pulling at your dress, his hums of satisfaction rumbling through the darkness of the night

“Jules baby, we’re—” you started say, glancing down at the street below, the lights of the city glowing, people walking by completely unaware of what was about to happen. You had drunkly mentioned how much you would love to have sex on a balcony spontaneously. He thought that now, after a beautiful date night as people rushed through the streets of Barcelona would be a good time as ever.

But Jules didn’t care. Because of his fame, you had been skeptical about someone possibly catching you in the act but the thought of it seemed to turn him on more.

“You worried about a little audience, sweetheart?” He rasped into your ear, his voice dripping with that familiar roughness that always sent a shiver down your spine. His hands gripped your waist, spinning you around until your chest was pressed against the cold metal railing.

The city was spread out below you alive and rushing with life, and here you were, at the mercy of this feral man you loved so much.

Before you could say anything, Jules’s hands were on you again, tugging at your underwear, rough and impatient, and you couldn’t help but moan as he peeled them down. The cool night air hit your exposed skin, the coldness nipping at your nipples and pruning them tight.

A stark contrast to the heat burning inside you, but you didn’t care. Not when Jules was behind you, his body pressed so close, his breath hot against your neck.

“You’re soaked already,” he growled, his hand running over your bare ass, squeezing possessively. “Trying to act all coy but you love this huh? Knowing anyone could look up and see you get fucked by me.”

You could barely respond; your mind was spinning from the intensity of the moment, but your body gave him all the answers he needed. You pushed back against him, craving more, craving everything.

Jules’s low, dirty chuckle told you that he knew exactly what you wanted.

“That’s my girl,” he muttered, and before you could catch your breath, he slammed his dick into you, hard and deep. The force of it made you gasp, your hands gripping the railing for dear life as Jules started moving, not caring at all who might be watching.

The way he fucked you was wild, reckless, like he couldn’t hold back anymore, and the thought of people walking below, just a glance up and they’d see you like this, only made it hotter.

“Ohhh fuuckkk!” You moaned as Jules’s hands gripped your hips, pulling you back to meet his thrusts, and the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the air. You could barely think, barely breathe, the only thing you could focus on was the way he felt inside you, the way he owned every inch of your body.

“Bon sang, tu es parfait. Parfait pour moi.” [Goddamn you’re perfect. Perfect for me] Jules growled; his voice rough with lust. His hands slid up your back, rounded your chest and pulled you to his chest which caused you to arch even more so he could bury himself deeper, harder.

“You love this, don’t you? Letting everyone see how good you take it.” He mumbled in your ear, his words slurred.

“Yes, only for you baby.” You moaned, your body shaking with the intensity of it all, and Jules’s pace only quickened, his dick slamming into you over and over, making sure you felt every inch of him.

The thrill of being so exposed, knowing anyone could see, made it impossible to hold back, and you could feel your orgasm building fast, your body tightening around him, squeezing him so hard, his thrusts falter at the tension.

“Fuck! Jules!” you gasped, barely able to form words, just his name.

He wasn’t slowing down, he was relentless. The grip his hands had on your body would surely leave bruises on your skin but that was the last thing on your mind now. You just needed everything that Jules was giving you.

“I can feel you hot and throbbing. Come for me my darling.” With those words, the tension in your body snapped, and you came hard. Your legs were trembling so much as waves of pleasure crashed over you, Jules had to hold you down.

Jules growled in satisfaction, his hips slamming into you one last time as he chased his own release.

“Please, baby. Cum for me.” You whispered into his ear. You could feel him throbbing inside you, and then, with a deep, primal grunt, he came, filling you up as he held you tight against the railing as he stumbled forward due to the intensity of his orgasm.

For a moment, neither of you moved, just standing there as your bodies were pressed together as you tried to catch your breath.

The sounds of the city below seemed distant, almost unreal, as you slowly came down from the high of it all. Jules leaned into the side of your head, moving your tight curls of his was as his lips brushed against your ear. hefhechuckled softly.

“Do you think anyone saw us?” His question caused you to giggle as you rolled your eyes. It wouldn’t matter anyway.

reading list: @queenshikongo3 @hopefulromantic1 @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx @saintslewis @cocobutterqwueen @blowmymbackout @mochachocolatteyaya @greedyjudge2 @melaninpov @pickingupmymercedes @lewisroscoelove @kindan3rdy951 @elyseesarchive @sl33p-deprived-princess @soiguessimtheshit @acidlv @kriegertops @ermlolol @theogbadbitch @trinitoldyouso @ethereal555 @astrorainbow @jazziejax @laylaynaynay130 @khalaaylah @plan666 @crissrou @cookiecutterzers56 @cameroncrazie13 @shescatrinaxo @efefrf @wvvkndvibez @st4rgirliesstuff @gwenda-fav @fineanddandy @planetblaque @deja-r @kiraonthegooo @apimp-named-slickback @playgurlxoxo @gojosbabyma @heytaewrites @leilaxaliel @dyttomori @tasteofmyrainboe @livvy-lovess @violetmuses @jeanellepatrice @kaisage45 @planetnique

[heytaewrites]

[heytaewrites]

summary: nami gets a bit beside herself. terry's control snaps and he gets a little petty.

word count: 4k

graphics by @firefly-graphics & @cafekitsune

authors note: this is for the brats. not the ones that know they are brats, but the ones where it just....slips out accidentally and you "have to see it through ma boy".

Part One || Part Two

“Stop watching my hands.” 

Nami looked down at the organic chemistry book in front of her. She was sitting at Terry’s dining table, to the left of where he spanked her last night. There were no hooks in the table and sitting somewhere normal felt odd. The numbers had long since blurred and every time she looked back to the problem she was working on she was confused. Reading through the problem from the beginning, she quickly found her place, scribbling with her mechanical BIC pencil until she was at the end when her thoughts began to wander. 

Terry’s eyes were on the television, his body stretched out on the couch. One arm was tossed on top of his head and his black sweats cuffed around the ankles. His shirt was embellished with ‘marine’ in thick white letters. Something was on tv, but she couldn’t remember the name of the series. He was two episodes in and silent about it. You should be studying instead of watching tv anyway. Terry hadn’t taken his eyes off the tv once since turning it on. He hadn’t moved either and the tent in his sweats was getting larger. She had earned her first Play Time.

This was the most relaxed she had been in a while when it came to her studies. 

“What number are you on,’ he asked, finally turning his hazel eyes to her. 

She sat in the chair wearing just one of his shirts. It was currently eight-thirty and Terry claimed to have plans for them later this afternoon. When he learned she needed to study, he took her home to get her study materials, clothes, and anything else she needed. He waited on the couch with arms stretched over the back of it like he lived there. 

Out of twenty questions, the easy ones she breezed through, she had finished sixteen. The last four were multi-step and required a deeper understanding of the material. 

“Sixteen.” She replied. 

“Still?” 

It wasn’t like he was offering to help and she didn’t even know if he understood anything about organic chemistry. Hell, she barely did. Looking down at the smudged paper where she almost erased a hole into it, she sighed, dropping her pencil to rub her temples. 

“You’ve been over there tapping that calculator and shit,’ he sat up just enough to place the tv remote on the table. “I figured you were one from done.” 

He swung his feet to the floor and stood up, but walked towards the kitchen. He opened his fridge as she looked down at the textbook angrily. This was the one class she hated the most. She sat comfortably with a B in it. Just enough to pass for the credit towards her degree. 

He grabbed two waters and walked towards her. Placing one on the table beside her books, he stood behind her. Terry leaned forward, his head resting on her shoulder before his lips found her neck. He had pulled her hair to the side, sucked on her flesh while she tried to focus on the problem at hand and not the one causing a problem between her legs. 

Nami slid her hand to the side. It was the first time her hands weren’t bound or held and she wanted to touch him. She had tasted him twice, but being able to feel him in her hands had her thought’s racing. Perceptive, Terry grabbed her wrist and brought it to his lips. 

“Am I distracting you?” He asked. 

Nami didn’t want to say yes. He had a habit of going into the room and closing the door. That wasn’t what she wanted. 

“No, it’s just….hard.” 

Terry laughed softly and pulled her up from the chair. Turning it so the back was against the table he sat down and pulled her to straddle his lap. His hands landed on her thighs. 

“Pick up the pencil.” 

He pulled her left arm behind her back, keeping it still while the other palmed her sore ass. 

“Work through the problem.” 

He hiked up the shirt until it was bunched around her waist and rubbed her thighs. Pressed up against him this way she had to be still. Nami started from the top and soon realized her mistake from previous attempts. She erased again, correcting herself and finding the rhythm to finish the problem. She double checked her work before moving on, slightly uncomfortable with her arm in his wrist behind her back. Terry’s hand crept under the shirt and cupped her breast, his thumb then worked back and forth over her nipple, tugging it just enough her breath hitched. He kissed along her jaw and neck, tugging downwards on her nipple until she let out a pained sound. Her hips jerked forward and he swatted her ass, his hand leaving her breast exposed and cold. 

“Keep that ass still.” 

Nami began the next problem, cycled through it while Terry reached for her breast again. This time his hips moved. It was slow at first. Teasingly slow. 

“You want to know something,’ he says, his hips bucking upwards as he holds her still, ‘I know this pussy is good.” 

He grinned as she struggled to keep still. “You want to know how I know?” He asked. 

“Yea, Sir,’ she breathed. 

“Because you don’t know what the fuck to do with it.” 

She moaned as his fingers dragged towards her clit from the back. 

“This pussy leaks, drips, and cries. Every time I look at it, it’s so fucking wet You need my dick don’t you?”

“Yessss Sir.” 

“I know. I know.” Terry began playing with her clit, his grip on her arm tightening. “S’okay,’ he slurred, ‘I’m going to teach you.” 

Nami let out a long sigh to disguise her moan. 

“Didn’t I say stop watching my hands?” Terry’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts. 

Nami jumped, wiped the drool on the side of her lip and stared down at her paper. She looked down at herself and realized she had zoned out and imagined him that close. He was still stretched out on the couch across the room from her. 

He flicked his eyes back to the tv.  “What number are you on?” 

Nami flipped back to the previous page, opting for a little white lie, her day dreams had her wanting to make them a reality. Fuck the homework. She wanted him. 

“Nineteen,’ she looked up and saw his eyes on her. Grabbing the calculator, she input the problems components and began equating them on her paper. She’d finish them when she was home and away from his presence, but she wanted to pretend to be trying to finish. 

“When you’re done, come here.” 

Nami’s hand snaked between her legs moments later, just grazing her bare cunt. Fuck. She held a sheet of paper in her hands and since her bag was between her legs on the floor she could-

”Aye!” Terry snapped. “Touch my pussy if you want to.” He looked at her. “Hands on the table.”  

She worked her mouth into a frown as he scolded her. Her eyes narrowed slightly and she sat back in her chair, dragging it across the floor to get closer to the table. She threw her elbow on the table before her arm fell flat on the wood surface. She snatched up the calculator and used it to cover face, pretending to need it that close to use it. The movements were so fluid that Terry’s brow shot up. Oh? 

Who the fuck was she getting an attitude with? Terry thought. 

“Chill.” Terry replied instead, brushing off the exchange. 

Nami looked up at him and gave a shrug, no verbal reply followed. Terry’s hand twitched. Staying quiet, Terry sat up, and grabbed the remote before turning off the tv. Nami suddenly scratched at an itch in him to correct. He had learned early on that when it came to submissiveness, black women couldn’t entirely let go of their attitudes and when they popped up they were often mislabeled as brats. Nami wasn’t a brat. She just had an attitude and clearly it needed adjusting. She was testing his patience. His control. Him. She was testing him. 

Normally, a verbal correction could shape all that up. However, she wasn’t responding to him. Nami replied with her body and it was irking him. This wasn’t about him in the end. She wanted him to react. She wanted his hands on her. She wanted the correction and she had no idea what it looked like. 

“That’s definitely strike two.” He told her. “Why you playin’ right now? You fucking up your Play Time.” 

Terry had planned to indulge in one of her kinks and finally taste that pussy. Why would she want to mess that up? 

"What number are you on, Nami?" With all this playing she had better be done. 

“I’m not done.” 

“Did I fucking ask that?” Terry’s resolve shattered and he stood up. 

Nami watched him approach, his fingers rubbing together to tether himself. His restraint was slipping. He let out a long breath through his nose. 

“No.” 

“No?” He repeated as if giving her a clear chance to turn all this around. 

“No.” Her shoulders shrugged.

 Terry reached out before he could stop himself and fisted his hand into her hair. 

“Get up.”  Terry lifted her to her feet with his grip on her hair. It was just tight enough to guide her to her feet without pulling. He didn’t want to make her cry. Well, not right now. 

He suddenly released her hair and took a step back. His shoulders rolled as he craned his neck side to side, stretching out. She stood there, rubbing the back of her head in just his shirt. He could push her to her knees and have her swallow his load over and over. He could choke her on his dick, spank her until she cried, but she wanted that. This just wasn’t the way to get it. 

Scratching his chin, he took a seat back on the couch. 

“Pack up.” He pointed towards her stuff. “I’m going to take you back home.” 

He dropped her cuffs back into the drawer and stood to go find his shoes. He stepped into his bedroom leaving her there with her mouth half open. She didn’t want to leave, that's not what she wanted him to do. She wanted his hands on her, bringing her to the cusp of an orgasm so she could feed the itch between her legs. Nami wanted him to touch her and move her the way he wanted. Instead, she watched his retreating back.

He didn’t close the bedroom door this time but she knew entering would make things worse. Huffing, she returned to her seat and put her bag on the table. She started shoving her things back into it and didn’t notice that he had stepped to his door and leaned against it, watching her. His arms folded over his chest and let his new toy dangle from his fingers. The leather was cool in his hands, but he was sure once it was used it would warm right up. 

“So you can listen?” He says as she yanks the zipper on her bag closed. 

Nami looked up a full pout on her full lips. “Yes, Sir,’ she whispered. 

“Huh?” He said, cupping his ear. “That apology needs to be as loud as that attitude was. Don’t get all shy now.” He saw her eyes wandering to his hands and he snapped his fingers. “Look at me.” 

“We’re about to talk about boundaries. Cause you are pushing some buttons today and I want to wear that ass out. Last night would be a cake walk. You won’t be able to sit when I’m done with you.” 

“You told me you were about to take me home.” Nami replied. “We can talk about it next time.” If he was going to say something she was going to make him stand on it. She figured that since he was taking her home she could speak freely. 

Big mistake. 

“Nami,’ he sighed, ‘I’m giving you a chance to fix your attitu-’

“I don’t have an attitude.” 

If there was ever a moment for a record scratch now was it. Terry laughed, it didn’t reach his eyes, but the sound sounded joyous. He pushed off the door frame and walked towards her. Nami’s eyes dropped to his crotch. Oh shit. His dick was still swinging side to side as he walked, but it was not hard. Not like she had thought it would be. Not like last night. He was serious.

“Yeah, that shit aint cute.” 

When he was in front of her, she looked up at him. Feeling his body heat as he worked his tongue around his mouth. His jaw ticked and she so badly wanted to reach out and touch him. She hated that rule. 

“I’m not trying to be cute.” 

With some restraint, Terry grabbed her face by the jaw, his fingers pressed into the flesh there as he guided her to sit on the couch. 

“Nami, shut the fuck up.” 

He sat on the table in front of her and she noticed the riding crop across his lap. He grabbed the front of her shirt and dragged her to the floor. She landed in a huff and he tugged on her hair, pulling her head backwards. He saw the pleasure in her face and shook his head. 

“You could have just asked me for this.” He says, his hand smacking her cheek in a test pop. “Is this what you want? You want me to rough you up?” 

Terry his hand tightened in her hair as he stood up, leaving her on her knees. He saw her hands move towards him. 

“Don’t test me, Nami.” 

He was doing a lot of talking, he realized. He was trying to diffuse the tension between them, maybe get back to what he had planned for the day, but she wasn’t making it easy on him. She placed her hands in her lap, clenching them into fists. Terry was swiftly moving this time, the crop dropping to the floor as he brought Nami back to the table. He laid her on her back this time, stretching her further across the wood. Her arms dangled over one side and her legs the other. He stopped talking, moving through cuffing her to the table with ease. She stared up at the ceiling, her chest rising and falling as she began to over think his next move. 

Terry sat on the couch and pulled the table closer to him, her added weight making no difference to him. He placed her feet on the table and spread them apart, ignoring her pussy beginning to glisten. He only stood up to push her shirt up, covering her face. Nami’s body rolled to the side in confusion, trying to shake off the shirt. 

Stinging.

He struck her with the riding crop on the outside of her thighs. Then again and again. And one more time until she realized she was supposed to be counting. The pain had jarred her mind and she couldn’t think clearly. She bit down on her lip to keep from crying. 

The cold leather rubbed between her legs, up her inner thighs, and her legs fell open from the soothing sensation. It was followed promptly by a sharp strike to her inner thigh. 

“Five, Sir, please,’ she begged this time. “It hurts…..” 

“What the fuck does that have to do with me?” 

He switched sides, the crop landing on her sensitive skin on her left. He dragged it down the valley between her breasts and delighted in the way her body shivered. Now, he was getting hard. This turned him on. He couldn’t see her face, but she was shaking her head side to side still, her arms tugging on her restraints. The cold metal cuffs bit into her skin and she almost dropped her foot from the table. 

“Six, Sir,’ she sputtered, the crop landing on the underside of her breast, her nipple nearly swatted. "No, no, no, no,no...." she whined.

She only had four more though she didn’t know it and he was going to make them count. Coming to stand behind her head, he reached between her legs with the crop and stroked her cunt with it. When the leather began to shine with her slick his hand joined by slowly spreading her wet lips apart. Like a flower she opened up, and he thumbed her clit a few times. He wanted so bad to dip his fingers into her and play in her nectar, but again ... she did what she wanted and acted up. 

“Oh, Sir,’ she moaned, hips rising to seek out his fingers. 

He drew the crop back and smacked it against her clit, the scream she let out was loud and sent blood rushing to his dick. He kept her open, stroking her down to her weeping little hole, then using the crop to remind her of the reality of the situation. 

“Eight, Sir,’ she turned her head towards her arm, the shirt in the way as she blinked through the tears. She wanted to enjoy his thick fingers but the crop ruined the sensation just as quickly as it started. 

He applied another hit to her thigh, still stroking her pussy. His fingers were drenched and when he drew his hand away the crop landed just below her clit. Her legs snapped shut around the crop, locking it in place as she cursed. 

“Ten, Sir, please….” 

“Open your fucking legs,’ he growled. “Now!” 

Her legs feel apart slowly, the red skin on her thighs beginning to welt. Terry admired his work, the way she dripped on the table and off his fingers. He left her hooked to the table and retreated to the kitchen for a bottle of water. He looked at her while he drank. Nami was bound to his coffee table like a work of art and if he didn’t have anything to do he would leave her there. Then again, his kitchen was low. He could use a few groceries. Terry soon tossed the empty bottle into the trash and clapped his hands together. Nami heard a jingle of keys and the door opening. 

“When I get back you had better work through that shit.” 

Terry arrived back at the house two hours later with lunch and food for the house. He looked to the table and saw Nami was relaxed, too relaxed. 

Dropping the bags on the table, he placed their food on the stove before tossing his keys, loudly, into the bowl he kept them on the foyer table. He walked to the table where Nami was spread out and pulled the shirt off her head. Big brown eyes, red from crying, stared back up at him. 

“I’m sorry, Sir,’ she whimpered, eyes looking away from his intense stare. 

“You’re sorry,’ he said, kneeling so they were closer to eye level. 

Terry rubbed his hand across her belly, eyeing the welts on her inner thighs. He knew her ass was still sore. 

“Yes, Sir.” 

“It’s not even noon and I’ve had to punish you twice within twenty-four hours.” He stood up and unhook her arms. “Did you work through whatever little attitude you had before I left?” 

Nami sat up with his help and brought her cuffed hands between her legs as she sat up. She rested them on the table, tugging at the hem of her shirt. She winced as her legs stretched out. Her shoulders relaxed and she felt her back slump forward. 

“Yes, Sir,’ she says. 

Terry uncuffed her hands and kissed the inside of her wrists. He kissed up her arm until they were nose to nose. He lifted her head and kissed her briefly. 

“It’s way too early for you to be getting an attitude with me.” Terry grabs her jaw in his hand. “Don’t do that shit again.” 

Helping her up, he guides her to the kitchen and sits her at the counter. She places her hands on the table and he removes the cuffs. Before he walked away he stood beside her and leaned against the counter.

“What do you need from me?” 

She wanted to scream to touch him. Why couldn’t she? It was the only rule that was making her go crazy. 

“A hug.” She pouted. 

Terry smiled and pulled Nami into his arms. He kept her hands between them, flat against their bodies as he cupped the back of her head with one hand and wrapped the other around her waist. She rested against him, hoping for a bit more contact, and sighed. 

“Let’s talk.” 

Terry slanted his lips over her, kissing down her jaw and neck as he breathed in. He then slid a sheet of paper and pen across the island while walking to the other side. She looked down to see a list of kinks, ranging from vanilla to extreme chocolate. She picked up the pen as she sat. 

“Circle what you like.” 

“I haven’t done half of this,’ she admitted, wondering how to even pronounce half of these kinks. 

“Underline it if you’re curious.” He looked down at the paper. “Cross it off if it’s a no.” 

He turned his back to her and began putting away the items he bought. Organized to his liking, Terry shut the pantry door and walked to the stove. He took out his takeout boxes and remembered his order with a chuckle. Both were still warm and he plates them with his back to her. Nami was quiet as she read through the list. Many of these she was curious about and underlined them, kinks she hadn’t thought to be kinks were circled, while she made sure to circle everything she liked. Terry’s phone went off again and he turned his head slightly in the direction of it. Letting it ring, he reached into his cabinet for glasses, using water from the fridge to fill her cup. He brought that first, looking down at the paper while she ran the pen over it. 

“Dirty girl,’ he mumbled. “My hand should be a necklace,’ he reminded her with a smirk. She made sure to circle choking. 

“You’re not supposed to be looking yet.” She pulled her paper closer and used her arm to cover it while she finished up. 

Terry leaned back, giving her space, and turned back to their plates before bringing them over. He had a bowl of pasta, grilled chicken and broccoli, nothing too heavy, this early. Nami breathed in the smell of chicken and looked up. Her smile dropped when she realized what was on her plate. 

Fries. 

Chicken tenders. 

Nami looked down at the plate then back up to Terry. He stabbed his fork into the pasta before bringing it to his mouth. 

“Something wrong?” He asked. He followed her gaze to her plate. “You act like a child, I will feed you like one.” 

Nami pursed her lips, her stomach growled before she could say she wasn’t hungry. Terry smiled, and pointed towards the plate. “Eat.” 

“Do you have ketchup?” 

“The fridge.” 

As she got up, he slid her paper to his side of the island. His hazel eyes raked over the paper, making mental notes of which kinks paired well together, others he’d have to ease her into, and those he’d have to isolate and focus on individually. She was big on lack of choice if her choices of asphyxiation and sensory deprivation were any indications of it. Nami slid back in the stool watching him read through the list. Over one hundred different kinks listed and the anticipation of trying them gave her a tingling feeling.

“We’ll get to these," he pushes the paper back to her. “It’s been two days and you’ve done a lot.” He eyes her, thinking about how much fun they could be having had it not been for her moment earlier. “Does anything we’ve done so far make you uncomfortable?” 

Nami thought back to the moments leading up to now. The online chats, the first lunch, the first night together, this morning ... .all of it, and she couldn’t think of a moment that she wasn’t enjoying herself. 

“I’m confused about something,’ she says, jabbing a fry in the cold ketchup. “I mentioned the type of situation I wanted and I don’t know when one begins and the other ends. Or if-’

”I want you to get used to me as your Dominant, then things will progress. I’m learning about you.” He replies, hoping his answer isn’t aloof. She needed the truth. They were compatible so far. Blurring the lines so soon would end up bad for the both of them. 

“Oh, okay,’ she replied. “I think I get it.” 

“I don’t want you to think.” He says with a shrug, ‘I want you to let me be in control.” 

“What does that look like?” 

Terry placed his fork down. Being questioned was one thing, but Nami genuinely wanted to understand so he couldn’t be upset that she didn’t have blind faith. If anything, he was elated to know she wasn’t going to lie and take whatever he gave her, though he hoped the moment he sunk into her p-

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Terry blew out a breath. “Following my rules. You’ve been good at no panties. That’s more so for me.” He smirks. “The way your ass shakes when you walk by me is undeniable. Know that I am looking at your ass.” 

Nami reached down and tugged on her shirt. “I like making you squirm.” He lowers his voice, the rich baritone sent shivers down Nami’s spine. “I like how wet you get when I touch you. I want you to know I can easily make you feel good. If you listen to me.” 

“Are there more rules?” 

“You know my rule on what color to wear with me. If you don’t have enough I will take you out shopping.” 

Nami nodded. 

“No alcohol. I was worried when you went out. I’m glad you told me where you were. The location on your phone should always be shared with me.” He paused. “When I want you I want to know exactly where you are.” 

“No touching me,’ he reinforced. “That is an earned privilege.” 

Nami wanted to press why, but the look in his eyes changed her mind. “Yes, Sir.” 

“You’ve already learned that that pussy is mine. Don’t touch it without my permission.” He wanted her wet and weeping by the time he fucked her. He wanted her pussy sore from just the thought of getting fucked. 

Their plates emptied quickly and Nami sipped on her water. 

“Most of the spaces we will be in together, I require you to be seen and not heard.” His tone grew serious. “I frequently visit play parties, mostly to see what’s new and whether or not it’s something I would do. Usually I am alone, but you’ll be going with me. Those nights I can’t be your boyfriend.” At those parties, Terry lurked in the background. He tried to avoid being the center of attention, but once one person saw him and spread it, there was no hiding. 

“Do you participate?” 

“Are you interested in voyeurism? Do you like being watched?” 

“No, Sir,’ she says. 

“Then no. I don’t.” 

He didn’t seem to mind that she realized. She tried to think of more questions but she wanted Terry to push her limits. She knew her safe word. 

“Nami.” 

She looked up, her curls wild as she pushed them over her shoulder and behind her ears. She was so fucking pretty. He remembered her tears and the way they ran down her cheek as her body sought more from him, betraying her displayed emotions. He wanted that again. The tears and the way her body sought more from him with each swat to her smooth skin. The way she choked on his dick the first night, how her throat just opened up to swallow him. 

“Above all, I need you to trust me. You have your safe word.” 

Taglist: @nayaesworld @peachbuttetfly @harmshake @heauxvibez @avoidthings

@mymindisneverhere @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @eilujion @heytaewrites

@browngirldominion @insidefeelingofanadult @blackerthings @gwenda-fav @brandithecrystalgem

@captainwithoutmakingitlove @dremmmm @kindofaintrovert @thegreatlibraryofalex @jimmybutlrr

@beenathembo @kuromiish @virgomess @bbyxgall @theereina

@randomhood @ash-ketchumzzz @dundienominated @gg-trini

[heytaewrites]

Facing reality is the first step toward healing. Facing reality is the first step toward healing. Facing reality is the first step toward healing. Facing reality is the first step toward healing. Facing reality is the first step toward healing. Facing reality is the first step toward healing. Facing reality is the first step toward healing.

[heytaewrites]

summary: kyra returns to her hometown after ten years away. she ends up braiding the hair of the one man that had and still has her heart.

authors note: he was supposed to be breaking her in half like a glow stick. idk what happened. he's all soft and shit. sometimes I write and the characters will lead the way. terry was not with me bending kyra over so he could fuck......

wordcount: 2600

warnings: none

Kyra was home this time for good. Fontaine Street was lit up as her father hosted a block party in her honor. She had just finished her nursing program and was currently a registered nurse at the main hospital. It gave her a forty-five minute commute twice a day, but the pay was worth it. Plus, her father had given her his house as a gift, having moved to another closer to his ailing mother three months ago. Markus Fields was known around the block back in the day, having run the entire Fontaine block with his crew. Remnants of that still lingered with up and coming young men wanting to emulate him. 

She slipped in and out of the crowd, hugging older men and women who had watched her grow up over the years. Some neighborhood friends commended her on making it out the hood. She brushed them off, telling them she just wanted to be a nurse. Boasting around here led to rumors and the last thing she wanted was her hometown to think she had outgrown them in a way she thought she was better than them. 

Kyra moved towards her front porch, a few people lingered there, but she slipped into the house unnoticed just to get a break from socializing. The party was going to drag on for a few more house and if it wasn’t the weekend, she’d be sneaking to a hotel to get sleep. 

“Are you running from him,’ Markus sat at the kitchen table, eating a plate of ribs and baked beans. 

“Dad,’ Kyra sighed. “I haven’t even seen him. I just came in to get a break.” 

“Well, he’s been asking about you. He came in a few months ago. Retired from the Marines, some shit went down in some place called Rebel Ridge with his cousin,’ he rambled an Kyra grew concerned. “He passed. Terry showed up here a mess.” Markus sighs. 

“Oh,’ she replies, unsure of what to say.

“He asked if you still braid hair.” 

Kyra looked to her father and slowly folded her arms over her chest. “Dad…’ 

“He’ll be by here tomorrow morning.” 

“I don’t have anything to do his hair with,’ she admitted, slapping her thighs after throwing her hands up. 

“You hair box is still in the bathroom. Combs and shit still down there.” 

“Dad,’

“Braid his hair and talk to him. He needs it.” Markus watched his daughter grab a drink from the fridge. As she left he thought, he needs you. A man in love was easy to spot and Terry long had been in love with his daughter. 

Back outside, she popped the tab on her Coke and walked towards the end of the street where the ice cream truck had parked. She needed something cold to ice out her nerves. Terry had been her first. Everything. They had fumbled one night in bed and though the sex was awkward and rushed, neither knew what they were doing, the intimacy with him could never be matched. Leaving for school had been the hardest decision of her life. She’s glad he found himself a way out too. 

Kyra saw him before he saw her. Standing next to the spades table, red solo cup held between his full lips as he pulled up his slightly large black sweats. MARINE was embellished on his shirt, the material old and faded. His hair had grown out and it framed his face in a way that Narcissus himself would fall in love. The afro was very different than the low cut cesar he had when they were kids. When she last saw him it was fresh and he came right to her house to show off. She remembered her father swatting him off the porch because she couldn’t come out once the street lights were on. From the porch she had waved, laughed and secretly pointed to her bedroom window. 

Now he was a grown man. She was a grown woman and the butterflies were still there. 

Stepping up to the truck she eyed the vintage flavors not found in commercial stores anymore. The buttercup shaped popsicle called her name and she reached into her back pocket when a hand reached over her shoulder, two ones and the two quarters held against his palm by his ring and pinky finger. 

“Aye Terry!” The seller greeted. “What you doing back here bruh? Heard you was out with them Marines and shit.” 

Maybe it was another Terry. She didn’t turn around and when the popsicle was passed to her. She ripped off the paper. 

“I got out,’ his rich baritone filled her ears. “Did my ten years.” 

That’s how long it had been since they last seen each other? 

“It’s good seein’ yall two.” He said, eyeing the way Terry stood behind Kyra. 

The whole block knew how they felt about each other. 

“Are you going to turn around?” He asked, still standing close to her. 

He moved them from the line and towards the sidewalk, people giving them way with knowing looks on their faces. She ignored them. They stood on the side of someone’s house, her back to the old wood. The ice cream tucked between her lips as she sucked on the smooth creamy treat. 

“Hey,’ she replied, unsure of what to say to him. 

“How you been, Ky?” 

“Good, um,’ 

He placed his hands beneath her chin, forcing her to look up at him. There was no hesitation in his next move. His hands slid up her cheeks to the curls at the nape of her neck. His lips were soft and he kissed her slow, tasting the ice cream, her strawberry lip gloss, and her. She dropped the ice cream and grabbed his waist. He took the initiate and stepped forward and pushed her up against the house. 

“Two deployments and I would do another one if it mean coming back home to kiss you.” 

He held her face in his hands, thumbs brushing her warm cheeks. He always said the most loving and romantic shit. Her knees weakened just a little and he smiled as she looked away from him. 

“Are you still shy?” He asked. “Can’t be if you’re coming out the house in those shorts.” 

The denim shorts were high waisted with ripped holes along the thighs and one in a particular place on her ass, showing just a sliver of cheek. 

“You put them on for me,’ he says, his lips dangerously close to hers. This was not the Terry she had grown up with. This was grown Terry.

“Fuck,’ she says, pushing him back to get some space to breath. 

He caught her hands and brought them to his lips. He wore a big smile, all 32 teeth exposed as his green eyes looked her over. He stepped back up to her and hooked his finger into the belt hook of her shorts. 

“I’ll be over in the morning to see you.” 

“Your hair.” She says, remembering what her Dad had told her. “I’m braiding your hair. $250.” 

Terry laughed, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. “Nah, how about head for head?” 

“Terry!” Kyra hissed. That was the Terry she remembered, shit talking. Only this time, she knew he could back it up.

He placed his hand on her stomach and pushed her back against the house. 

“You’ve been the source of all my dreams, my nightmares, Kyra.” He sighed. “All I’ve thought about was you for ten years. Hoping that when I saw you again there wasn’t a ring on your finger.” 

It was getting too heavy. His confession of his feelings were too much. She might have shared them, wondered where had been and doing, but hearing them aloud sent her mind into a free fall. 

“Tell me I’m not too late, Ky Ky.” 

Before she could respond he kissed her forehead. The sky had darkened and the music was louder, people yelling and enjoying themselves in the background. 

“You’re never too late,’ she admitted. 

Terry’s shoulders slumped and the tension between them snapped. 

“Kyra?” 

The pair looked up and Terry took a step away from Kyra.

“Yeah,’ she says, addressing one of her friends from college that had stopped by. 

“Your dad is looking for you.” Her eyes drifted to Terry and she made the connection. Kyra had talked about Terry plenty of times over bottles of wine and ice cream while they were in college. “I’ll tell him your busy,’ 

Kyra shook her head. “No no, I’m coming.” 

Her friend nodded, a knowing smile on her face. “Okay.” 

When they were alone again, Terry pulled her in for another kiss. He held her head back and she rose on her toes to meet his retreating lips. 

“We can finish this tomorrow.”

Up at seven thirty, Kyra grabbed her hair supplies from the bathroom. She sifted through the box for her rattail comb and rubber bands. True to form, she had some blue magic grease and pink lotion. She kept up with braiding and didn’t need all that edge control and gel. Just the basics. Her side hustle on campus kept her afloat. She walked into the kitchen where a pot of coffee was brewing. She had ingredients for breakfast, but knew she didn’t have time to cook and eat before he came over. Terry was punctual and she had a hunch he was going to be early. 

She wore a pink robe over her pajama bottoms and shirt. The old sleepwear was loose and worn in from constant wear. She had bought it on a trip to Italy a few years ago and the soft material still held up. Her slippers were somewhere under her bed and her long polka dot socks came up to her thighs. If Terry wasn’t coming over to get his hair braided one would think she was about to go back to bed, which she probably would once he left. 

As Kyra set up the area she was going to use in her kitchen, facing the tv, she heard the doorbell ring and three hard knocks followed. Of course he was early. Taking her time, she flipped on the foyer light and unlatched the two locks. The deadbolt clicked back and she opened the door to see Terry in a black hoodie and another pair of sweat pants. His hair was picked out and she noticed his beard for the first time. He looked rough. 

“Goodmorning,’ she said through the screen door while reaching to unlock the tiny lock inside the handle. 

“Morning,’ he hummed, stepping inside as soon as he could. He brought her lips to his while dipping his tongue into her mouth. “Where you want me,’ he asked. 

“The be-uh, table, shit, there’s a chair at the table.” Kyra stepped around him so flustered she almost stubbed her toe on the table as she walked past. 

She could feel him behind her. The last time they were in this house they were saying goodbye to each other. Horizontality. Their fingers fumbled over each other as they clung to one another. 

Terry smiled and pulled off his hoodie, a fitted black tank top clung to his muscular frame. He plopped down in the chair, legs spread as if he was waiting for her to sit in his lap. She moved behind him after checking on her coffee.

“How many braids?” She asked, her fingers reaching into his hair. She was surprised his hair was freshly washed. 

Reaching behind her, she pour pink lotion into her hair and rubbed them together before sinking them into his head. She pulled the lotion through his hair, grabbing oil to apply to his ends. 

“Do what you want, baby,’ he replied. 

She hadn’t braided men’s hair in a long time so she decided to have a bit of fun. Making the first zig-zag part, she used the comb to hold his hair to the side. She applied a little ore oil to her fingers and placed her hands at the top of his hair line, gripping the hair firmly as she started to braid. 

“Is that too tight,’ she asked. 

“No, feels good.” 

Thirty minutes passed when her stomach started growling. Terry tiled his head back. 

“I can order something,’ he says. 

“You heard that?” 

“It’s been grumbling for the past ten minutes. I just didn’t want to say nothing.” 

She smacked a hand over his chest as he stands up, half his head braided. He reaches into his hoodie for his phone, pulling up a menu from a diner a few blocks over. 

“Why didn’t you say anything,’ she folds her arms over her chest at his smile. 

“You already popped me with the comb!” He laughs. “I wasn’t trying to get beat up.” 

When he sat back down, he let her work for a few more minutes as he worked up the courage to start the conversation they needed to have. 

“I was serious last night,’ he began. “There’s never been anyone else….long term for me.” Terry sighed, his hand coming to rub the back of his neck. “No one was you.” 

On braid six, with two to go, Kyra listened to him. He poured his heart out to her, telling her about Rebel Ridge, losing his cousin, the hate in that town and how it almost killed him. She noticed a scar on his back and when he mentioned getting shot she glanced down at it. Her fingers touched over the raised scar. Kyra smoothed her hands up his arms and rested them on his shoulders. 

“There’s a lot I want to tell you,’ she admitted. 

He was numerous entries in her journal. Her thoughts and feelings were all on paper and it was much easier to have him read it than say it aloud, but she’d get to that later. She could at least admit to one thing. 

“Terry,’ she says, wanting him to look at her. 

He tilted his head back and his hazel eyes stared into her brown ones. His full lips were slightly parted and she leaned down, kissing him upside down while she whispered her deepest feelings against his mouth. 

I love you. 

Terry jerked up, almost flying out of the seat. Kyra jumped back as he turned around and pushed her into the fridge. Hand on her belly, he propped the other on top of the fridge. 

“Say it again,’ he begged, lips wet after licking them twice. “Say that shit again.” 

“I love me some you.” She looks down for a moment. “When I went off to school I had hoped you would stop me and beg me to stay.” 

“I wouldn’t keep you from your dreams Kyra. I knew how much you wanted to be a nurse. I would have hated myself if I kept you here.” 

“I know. I would walk around campus hoping you were there, but we both needed to find out way out of Fontaine before we could find each other again, I guess.” 

“You don’t have to wonder where I am anymore.” 

Kyra glanced up at him. His eyes were hooded and low. The emotions swirling between them was overwhelming. He bent his knees so they were eye level. 

“As long as you’re at 345 E Fontaine Street I’m here with you. And if you leave, baby, I’m right behind you.”

Taglist: @nayaesworld @peachbuttetfly @harmshake @heauxvibez @avoidthings

@mymindisneverhere @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @eilujion @heytaewrites

@browngirldominion @insidefeelingofanadult @blackerthings @gwenda-fav @brandithecrystalgem

@captainwithoutmakingitlove @dremmmm @kindofaintrovert @thegreatlibraryofalex @jimmybutlrr

@beenathembo @kuromiish @virgomess @bbyxgall @theereina

@randomhood @ash-ketchumzzz @dundienominated @thatone-girly

[heytaewrites]

[heytaewrites]

FIRST LOVE — Jimmy Holiday [October Prompts] 🧡

A/N: Finally got around to watching Rez Ball last night. Thank you to TikTok for putting me on! This is just a tiny little thing since the fandom doesn’t exist up here just like Rez Dogs (shockingly not shocked) and I thought it would be nice of me to feed the tag for those who are looking for some fics like I did right after I finished watching that beautiful film 🤩

PROMPTS ARE FROM HERE & I’m using: 10. “Well…you grabbed my hand first.” + SCENARIOS — 13. Decorating for Halloween.

<- read my previous October anthology prompt here.

𓊆ྀི❤︎𓊇ྀི 𓊆ྀི❤︎𓊇ྀི 𓊆ྀི❤︎𓊇ྀི 𓊆ྀི❤︎𓊇ྀི 𓊆ྀི❤︎𓊇ྀི 𓊆ྀི❤︎𓊇ྀི 𓊆ྀི❤︎𓊇ྀི 𓊆ྀི❤︎𓊇ྀི

You had no business doing what you’re doing right now.

Which is exactly why you’re doing it with no parental supervision.

You’re outside using only a stool and one of the pillars that surrounded the front door to the stucco and block home as leverage to get on top of your house. You were on a mission and that mission was decorating for Halloween.

The goal was to cover the home with skeletons and spiders, almost as if it were an infestation taking over the home. The front stoop was already done with a stack of pumpkins that you DIY-ED into a tower on both sides of the door, that was easy part, but you were always up for a challenge to complete the exterior decor.

The closest thing to a ladder that you had was the stepping stool and you couldn’t “borrow” your next door neighbors anymore so you had to improvise. Already tossing a few of the skeletons in the bag up onto the home, the next task was pulling your body up and over.

You never had the best upper body strength so out of a panic, your lower half scrambled around knocking the stool over after you slipped trying to pull yourself up.

“Shit!” You exhaled, knowing that you’d have to drop yourself if you couldn’t push yourself all the up on your own. You just hoped you didn’t land the wrong way…again.

Of course you tried but your body didn’t want you to win today.

“Here,” a low voice called out as the scrapping of the stool was placed back where it once was.

Peeking only down at the stool, you placed your feet down one at a time before getting down, unknowingly taking the warm hand that helped you down the rest of the way.

Huffing you threw your head back as you sat on the stool, other hand going to block the autumn sun from your view just to peer up at some pretty hazel eyes.

“You alright?” There’s a small smile of amusement on his lips.

Jimmy Holiday.

Your heart was already racing but now the butterflies decided to start acting up too! And that’s when you realized your hand was still being held onto and you snatched it back.

“I had it.”

Jimmy folded his arms underneath his pits as he stated sarcastically, “Oh really? You would have broke some more bones if it wasn’t for me and you know it.”

Scoffing you don’t even bother to look down at the compression sleeve that covered your left knee, “First of all, I don’t need a savior Jimmy, thank you. Also, what the hell are you doing here anyway?”

Jimmy shrugs, “I was on my way to Dezbah and Bryson’s, I left something over at their spot last night and of course they’re too hungover to bring it to me so…And imagine on my way by I see: a bird? A plane? No, a whole person that looked a whole lot like you trying to get on top of their house.”

“Minding your business is free.” You sass with a flick of your hair behind you while Jimmy rolls his eyes up to the sky.

“So these are the things I get for helping you out?”

“Does that also mean holding my hand?” You argue, you knew you were being absolutely ridiculous right now but it was easier to be this way than to give in and tell the star basketball player that you wanted to kiss him right on his stupid mouth.

Jimmy furrowed his brows, “Well…you grabbed my hand first.”

Gagging you say, “I would never! I don’t know where anything on you has been.”

Jimmy smirked and lifted his chin, “yeah you did but keep being delusional and see how far that gets you.” He even kicked at your stool lightly, “It’s okay to say that you enjoy hand holding, arent girls into physical touch?”

“Please stop talking.” You mutter at that generalization, “I’m sure you can get that from any other girl who drooled over you at the party last night.”

That attitude of yours was something.

After the death of your shared friend, Nataanii Jackson the both of you grieved in different ways. Jimmy got more into basketball and you tried to distance yourself. Jimmy and Nataanii were childhood friends, whereas you moved to Chuska freshman year and met Nataanii first. At first you thought maybe he was just interacting with you because he had something to prove after becoming a warrior. You weren’t into the whole clique scene and found it hard making friends in the beginning, still highly upset that you left your small group back on another rez but you were thankful that Nataanii Jackson became a good friend of yours.

And with Nataanii came Jimmy.

The both of you often talked shit to each other and liked giving each other a hard time but underneath it all there was still love there. Then unfortunately that platonic love became something more…at least on your part.

“I think y’all would be cute,” Nataanii teased you one time at lunch during junior year, “I can see the wedding bells now and you should just tell him or I could do it for you? I make the perfect wingman.”

You almost choked on your apple juice as you watched the braided man glance over his shoulder where Jimmy was sitting with the rest of the team. There was a girl who squeezed herself right in between Jimmy and Levi, her hand running up and down Jimmy’s arm as she flirted with him and of course Jimmy was all smiles, just eating the attention right on up.

“Yo Jim—

Nataanii starts but you’re reaching over the table to yank on his collar, bringing his face closer to you so you can slap a hand right over his mouth, “Taanii no!”

You can feel him grinning underneath your hand but that doesn’t stop Jimmy making his way over to you two nonetheless.

“Why you worried about any of them anyway?”he quizzed you, eyes tightening.

Scoffing you quickly move your attention else where, picking at the loose thread from your compression sleeve, “please, far from worried.”

“You’re the one who disappeared and left early.”

“So?”

“So?” Jimmy pressed, “Why is it every time some other girls are around me, you’re nowhere to be found?”

It’s your turn to frown, “Do you want me to be sick watching them fall all over you, Jimmy? Is that going to feed your ego better or something?”

Jimmy blinks, “You know what I think? I think you’re a bad liar. Always have been.”

You snapped, “What exactly have I lied about?”

“You don’t have one of those corny guys you were talking to, to come help you with these decorations? I heard when I went off to recruitment camp, you were entertaining that lame ass dude who looks like Harry Potter.” He taunts.

Your eyes go wide.

“And who exactly did you hear that from? Your most reliable source? Bryson’s dumbass?” You get up from the stool, pulling it into place and start walking towards your front door, “Like I said, I don’t need anybody’s help, let alone some non existent guy you think I’m talking to.”

“Lies.” Jimmy coughed from behind you, which irritated you more.

Slamming the stool against the front door of the home, you ball your fist into your side, “Call me a liar one more time—

“What’s gonna happen? You and your crappy knee going to jump me or something?”

Poking your tongue into your cheek with a raise of your brow, you size him up and what did you do that for? Jimmy decided to grow his hair out for the two months he was at camp and if you weren’t so frustrated you may have completely folded.

So you shoved him, “I can still kick your scrawny ass.”

He laughs as if you didn’t, “Yeah? You’re just mad your lies caught up to you and Dez finally snitched on your ass but alright, you want to fight instead of acknowledging the truth, fine? Let’s go.”

That’s when Jimmy knew he had you because you stepped back and froze.

“What? What did she tell you?”

Jimmy shrugs trying to be coy, “That you got a crush and it ain’t on Harry Potter.”

“There is no—

You started but stopped as you bit down on your bottom lip before continuing, “I don’t know what you’re talking about and I’m getting tired of looking at your face so I’m gonna leave.”

With your back to Jimmy he decides to finally let the ball drop, “Stop being so mean and just admit that you’re in love with me already, damn.”

Deeply exhaling, you can feel your heartbeat in your ears now. Of course somebody close to you ratted you out. It was a miracle that Nataanii kept his mouth shut this long about your little crush that wasn’t so little. Yet it was Dezbah (who was most likely drunk at the time) who ratted you out. She figured it out long before you admitted it to Nataanii. And now you were ready to fight her (again.) regardless if she whooped your ass or not.

“I…”

Then you tried to book it to your front door but of course Jimmy caught you by the elbow. The guy was as tall as the street lights so surely he had the advantage.

“Nope. Not uh, stop running.” He demanded from behind you, gently pulling on you so that you’d finally face him.

He tilts your face up by the chin with his finger so you can meet his honey eyes. “…Would it be so bad if I said…I like you too?”

You laugh before covering your smile, “I’d call you a liar then.”

“I’m not,” Jimmy boldly said, “and to prove it…you should let me kiss you.”

Internally you definitely screamed but your eyes flicked to the lips you thought about way too often plenty of times before.

“How do I know you’re not just toying with me?”

Jimmy lightly shakes his head, “‘Cause I wouldn’t do that? I liked you the first moment I saw you up in the bleachers since Nataanii and I thought you wouldn’t take up his invitation to come to our practice, ‘Miss. I don’t do large crowds.’ You even rooted for me when we were still trying to get to know each other as friends and that meant a lot.” He says bringing up the memory where you skipped study hall to come to their practice which made you smile a bit before he continued, “Also my mom would probably beat my ass if she heard I broke somebody’s heart and vice versa, if my heart got broken. She doesn’t like to show it but she’s also a sucker for a good love story. So promise me you won’t break mine?”

Slowly feeling yourself nodding you say, “Okay.”

Cautiously he pinched at your chin again, guiding your face right to his. Jimmy stops just before your lips, feeling each of your breaths tickling the other while he admired how gorgeous you looked up close and personal. He even tried to tuck some hair out of the way behind your ear, taking his precious time and smiled as the hair poked right back out from your ear.

“Hurry up, scarecrow.” You mumble.

Which makes him smirk, “relax, you’re so bossy.”

“And you’re so irritating.”

Which makes him press his lips right to yours, shutting you up for good. In that moment you felt like your heart exploded as your lips moved together, noses brushing against each other. Jimmy’s lips were incredibly soft and he took his time, holding onto you with great care, even if there was a hint of static the moment your lips connected. That was enough urge to keep you two going and it felt like you could kiss him for hours.

You “hated” it.

Yet you can feel him smiling as you sighed against him just before he pulls back to get a look at you, with your eyes still closed.

“…anybody home?” He jokes.

You groan, moving to bury your head against his chest while he laughed, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. “Don’t worry,” he whispers, “that was better than I imagined too.”

It actually felt nice to finally experience this and maybe you should be thanking Dezbah, as soon as you got over your annoyance of her ratting you out.

“…where does this leave us now?”

“Well, I’d like to take you on a date sometime.” He says pulling you back to cradle your face, with a stupid smile on his own.

That made your stomach flip, “really?”

“Yeah…if you’re down?” He peers at you from underneath his eyelashes, making sure that you knew he was serious with how intently he stared into your eyes.

You breathe out a smile, “I guess that’ll be cool…as long as you don’t eat all my food.”

“I’m a gentleman.”

“Eh…so only now you’re a gentleman? Because I can’t tell you how many times you stole a lot of my food during lunch?”

He attempts to defend himself, “…That’s what friends are for?”

“Are we that anymore?”

“Nah. Something better,” He grins as you stood on your tippy toes to kiss his lips once more.

No longer a secret, Jimmy Holiday was now yours and he already loved having you in return.

He thinks.

“I told you I had it!” You say as Jimmy lifts you up on his shoulders to help you on top of the house.

Jimmy sucks his teeth, “Stop your yappin’ baby and just accept that this is boyfriend stuff, acts of service or whatever. This is my job.”

“Who said you’re my boyfriend?” You peek out from over the top of house, pointing the skeleton hand at the olive skinned boy.

Jimmy squints up at you, “oh I’m not? I guess I can go mind my business then.”

“…Don’t you dare leave me up here!” You call out at his back.

Jimmy smirks over his shoulder at you, “that’s what I thought.”

Then a middle finger is sent his way and he can’t help but to kiss his lips up at you.

❤︎𓊇ྀི 𓊆ྀི❤︎𓊇ྀི 𓊆ྀི❤︎𓊇ྀི 𓊆ྀི❤︎𓊇ྀི 𓊆ྀི❤︎𓊇ྀི 𓊆ྀི❤︎𓊇ྀི 𓊆ྀི❤︎𓊇ྀི 𓊆ྀི❤︎𓊇ྀི

Continue with my October anthology prompts here.

[heytaewrites]

.summary: nami goes out to celebrate her friends birthday, breaks a rule, causes a chase that ends in a night that leaves her in tears.

.chapter warnings: impact play (spanking), oral (m receiving) dirty talk

wordcount: 6k, this is actually pretty tame imo. and not what the part was supposed to be. that's next....

dividers by: @firefly-graphics & mdni/caution by: @cafekitsune

Terry was a connoisseur of the cunt, a snacker of the snatch, and his penchant for pussy currently had him staring up at his bedroom ceiling, his hands behind his head. His left leg was bent, foot planted on the bed, while another head bobbed up and down on his semi-hard dick. He hadn’t even bothered to take off his sweats, opting to just pull his dick out over the waistband. Besides, Jasmine knew what it was when he called. There was a muffled sigh of frustration before the girl, an old girlfriend who was all too excited to get his call, sat up.

“I’m pulling out all the stops,’ she says before glancing down at his dick. Just laying there, fucking lifeless. “Are you even enjoying it?”

“Maybe if you shut all that fucking humming up I would have.” Terry had forgotten how vocal she was in bed. It was annoying, like those fake moans in porn type of annoying. Just sounds, no emotions, and she barely had a fucking thought behind those eyes.

Pushing her off, he threw his legs over the side of the bed, tucking himself away. Jasmine folded her arms across her chest, her anger settling into her features.

“Are you serious?”

“It’s never nothing to remind you who you are talking to, Jasmine.” He barely turned his head to her, his broad shoulders rolling as if her tone slapped him in the back.

“Yeah, that’s why we fucking broke up. You know I don’t fuck with that shit, Terry.” Jasmine snaps.

She gets off the bed, reaching down for the dress she wore over. Its green and blue design was suddenly ugly. What happened to yell-

Terry caught himself, grit his teeth together, and exhaled. Jasmine was still running off at the mouth when he came down from his sudden high of her and their previous night together, he corrected the history she was trying to reframe.

“No, I left you because you thought insubordination was cute.”

“I ain’t one of your lil’ cadets, either nigga,’ she lashes out. “You called me!”

“I called you to fuck, not to hear you speak.” He replies nonchalantly with a soft shrug of his shoulders.

“You’re so fucking mean,’ she says.

Terry shrugged off the comment, shoving his hands into his pockets while they stared at each other. He was mean. He knew that but he wasn’t cruel. He could have easily told Jasmine that his dick was sucked so good last night she’d never be able to top it. Now that, he thought, was cruel.

“Then leave. You knew the type of nigga I was when you met me. Ain’t shit change over here by these drawls.”

With each word that fell from his lips, he took a step towards her. Movements so slow and fluid that by the time he’d gotten close to her she was unable to move. He was a certified asshole, but he wasn’t a man to argue with. Not that she was afraid, his control was impeccable and the only thing he would hit her with was his words, and they hit hard. He feasted on insecurities for self defense and the way he could undress her to the point she didn’t need to be naked to feel exposed should be studied.

When they were good it was amazing. His dominance was a turn on and it made his affection addicting. It was just that darker side of him she didn’t like. Jumping through the hoops for some dick was never her steeze. No matter how fine the man was. Fuck. Terry was fione. He just wasn’t relationship material unless she conformed to what he wanted. Getting his call after a year had been a surprise and a part of her thought he had changed. Delusional, but she rather his dick made her that way then the way he acted. So she came over. She should have known he was on some bullshit.

“Right. Bye Terry.”

When he heard the door to his apartment close he shut his eyes. Calling her had been his first mistake of the night. One he was not going to make again.

Nami was in his head causing an uncomfortable disruption. A new submissive always brought about a high for him. One he rode days after, but this, this seared his mind in a way his body reacted at the thought of her. There was something else there and the moment she showed it to him he was going to pounce.

Snatching up his phone, he left his bedroom while shooting out a single text.

Nami the following night was catching up with her friend. She was also in the lifestyle, but was already with a dominant.

“So, how was it?”

“Intense.”

Mona nodded. She had heard of Terry within the community. He wasn’t a typical pleasure seeking Dom. Doms out there wanted to be like Terry. He was the pinnacle of what control looked like and it wasn’t an all too compatible style of play. However, she could see that Nami enjoyed herself.

“He just fucked my throat.”

“Damn.”

Nami reached up and rubbed her throat as if she could feel the remnants of his hands being there.

“How did it feel,’ she asked.

“His hand should be a necklace.”

“Oh, you’re a sub sub.” Mona laughed. “I can see the whimsical look in your eyes. Do not fantasize about your Dom. That’s like rule number one if you want to keep some identity.”

“We met before last night,’ she admitted. She didn’t disclose the whole story to Mona because sometimes her friend could be a little tough. She had good advice, but was so rough about it.

“Oh?” She purses her lips. “And?”

“He knows the type of relationship and dominant I’m looking for and still told me to come over last night.”

“And you think he’s interested in you for his new submissive?” She scoffed.

“Wait,’ Nami says, slightly offended, ‘what is that supposed to mean Mona?”

Sensing an argument Mona had to be careful with her words.

“I didn’t mean it like that. Terry is known to circle the block on an old submissive if he’s not happy with the current one. No one wants his sloppy seconds so the girls tend to avoid him.”

“You make him sound a like dog,’ she replied.

“Look, Terry is a fucking saint around here. These niggas wanna be like him. He’s that good at what he does. But he’s so lowkey everyone knows when he’s active. You never see him with a sub in public.”

“So?”

“He’s, picky.”

Nami wasn’t understanding why any of this was relevant. She knew that much about Terry, it wasn’t hard to discover with the way forums were dedicated to him on the site. She had spoken to him about it.

“Again, aren’t we all?”

Nami tried not to think too much into Mona’s words. She fell more along the switch side. She didn’t have the same view on what it meant to be a submissive either. A dominant like Terry was exactly what Nami wanted. But her friend’s words cut a little. What was wrong with her that she was so surprised Terry was interested? She pushed the conversation aside as they got ready. Another friend was celebrating her birthday and they had plans to go out.

When they arrived at the club, the line was out the door, but Mona knew the bouncer and he let them in easily. Jumpin’ Jumpin’ played over the speakers as the theme of the night as 90s/2000s. Nami felt the music course through her as they wove in and out the crowd towards a section decorated in pink and silver balloons. Birthday girl, Janae was dressed in a tight red dress and heels that made her long legs longer. Sexy didn’t do her justice.

“Aye!” Janae screamed when she noticed Nami had come. “You of all people got out of the house?”

A homebody, Nami did more studying for her Masters than studying masters in the club, pun intended. She was only a semester away from it and her focus was laser like. Her night with Terry had been a relief in more ways that one.

“Yeah, I got her lazy ass out the house,’ Mona interjected, snatching up a red cup.

Liquor was poured and Mona noticed Nami wasn’t taking any. Mona’s jaw ticked. It was very clear why. Instead of respecting that boundary, she pushed a cup into Nami’s hands.

“Take a shot!”

Nami’s eyes widened. She could smell the alcohol in the cup and shook her head. “No, no, no, I’m good!”

Mona begged, even pulling Janae into the fray to pressure her. Nami wasn’t going to budge, it wasn’t like she was a drinker anyway. Nami was about to lose her cool when her phone vibrated. She pulled it out and turned away from them when she noticed who the text was from.

Terry: What are you doing?

She placed the cup down, her fingers typing across the keyboard on her screen. The music switched to a song from Nelly and the back of her dressed was tugged on.

Nami: Stacy’s. A friends birthday.

“Bitch, at least dance with us!” Mona wanted to swipe the phone, but Nami had locked it and tucked it into her top.

Eventually, she found herself on top of the bar, slightly sweaty dancing to Beyonce’s song RIIVERDANCE.

Bounce on that shit, dance (Dance)

Bounce on that shit, dance

Nami didn’t need alcohol to let loose, however, being sober made her hyper aware of her surroundings and there was a chill creeping up her spine as her knees bent and she bounced to the music’s beat with enough precision to make Meg Thee Stallion proud.

Bounce on that shit, dance (Dance)

Bounce on that shit, no hands

Janae had grabbed Nami’s hands, holding them above her head as she worked her hips back and forth, the twerk sum’ serious that Janae could only laugh and hype her up. Mona was behind her, phone in hand recording. This was the Nami they had grown up with. Wild. Fun.

She was lost in the attention, enjoying how eyes were on her, but the back of her neck tingled again and she rose up, swaying side to side to end her little show. Another girl took center stage. A young girl celebrating her pending wedding. She had a white sash and crown, taking the former off to twirl it around in the air. Nami took her eyes off the scene for a second, needing to get off the bar before she slipped on a newly spilled drink. She was lowering herself to step into the stool pushed under the bar after pulling it back out. Head down, she placed her foot in the chair only for it to be pushed off and her arm yanked. She fell into a hard body, confused at the aggression.

“What the fuck,’ she yelled, looking up and wishing she hadn’t. “Oh, Sir.”

“Nah,’ he said, his eyes narrowed as he looked down at her. “Whatchu doing?”

She searched his eyes for the answer, mouth slack because she didn’t know what to say to him. She didn’t know what to tell him. There was no rule in play that she couldn’t be here. While she thought of her answer, Terry reached out and touched the top of her dress. His finger dipped into it, stroking between her breasts. Nami noticed his hand flex, as if he wanted to wrap it around her throat.

“The music isn’t that loud you can’t hear me.”

His black fit was capped off with black boots, the toe of them right up against her heels. Nami’s breath quickened. Terry’s hand dropped to her waist, smoothed around her back and grabbed a handful of her ass.

“At least you listened there,’ he replied.

She hadn’t touched him. No panties. She hadn’t drank anything.

“Whatchu got on?” He asked. “Let me see.” He grabs her wrist and holds her arm up, turning it so she could spin in a circle.

Nami looked down at herself. All she saw was a pink dress and hee-

Oh shit.

Yellow is your color. Remember that.

“It’s cute. I will give you that.”

He licked his lips, imaging their previous encounter all over again now that she was in front of him in the flesh. The supple, sweet smelling, glistening flesh. Nami reached up, wiping at some of the sweat around her hairline.

“Thank you,’ she whispered. “Sir.”

“I wasn’t giving you a compliment.”

If Terry was angry it was hard to tell. He took her chin in his hands, pulling her forwards.

“I had a real good scene planned for you,’ he admits with a sigh, the music shifting to a slow song. Terry stepped closer to her, pulling her body into his. “But, you slipped up. I have to correct that.”

His head lowered and though she didn’t think he was going to kiss her, she tilted her head back just to see his eyes. Terry slotted his lips over hers, drawing her into a kiss that made her knees weak. He held her by the chin and she clenched her hands at her sides.

Up on the bar, Mona had noticed Terry the moment he walked in the building. He was taller than most of the people in here and no one had eyes like him. She looked over to her friend Nami who was trying to get down from the bar. Terry had stalked her, snatching her down in a way that made her own snatch purr. To see someone like Terry kissing someone like Nami had her feeling some type of way. She thought she was everything a dominant wanted. Loose curls, caramel skin, thick, how could he not? Nami was pretty, Mona thought, but she wasn’t that pretty. When she had first learned Nami was talking to Terry she thought Nami was lying, she still did, until this moment. Seeing Terry shove his tongue in Nami’s mouth made Mona turn red.

“Why are you frowning like that,’ Janae says above the music.

She looked in the direction Mona was looking and her mouth made the ‘oooo’ shape. “Waymin’ who is sucking on her mouth like that! Aye! Go NAMI! Go NAMI!” Janae stumbled a little bit, tipsy from the four shots of Crown she had. “Let me tell Michael to suck my lip like that.”

As if he heard, Terry pulled away from Nami and looked over his shoulder, a wicked grin on his face.

“Birthday girl,’ he says. Nami nods, touching her lips. Their second kiss was just as good as the first. “You want to stay or go with me?”

Something told her to stay and not be that friend that left when her….man, showed up. However, Nami knew Terry wasn’t asking her to pick. The choice was clear.

“I’m ready to go,’ she says, unsure of what was waiting for her, but her pussy tingled with the thought of finding out. “We can go.”

“Patience.” He says.

Terry left her there and walked towards Janae and Mone. Nami watched as he beckoned her with two fingers to bend down to him. Held between two of his own fingers was a roll of bills held with a rubber band. She looked at his mouth as Janae wrapped her hand around the gift. Nami wasn’t mad about the money. Janae touched him, placed her hand on his shoulder in thanks. Too drunk to realize anything other than being able to buy more drinks. Her friend had a man and was dedicated, but Mona also reached out and touched Terry. Right on his bicep, her nails raking down his skin as he flirted with his big ass smile. Nami licked her lips and folded her arms over her chest. Mona knew what she was doing and Nami knew that. Their talk from earlier crept up into her thoughts and she suddenly felt insecure.

This was a hard boundary even though she hadn’t expressed it, but it was like he knew. Terry turned to look at her and gathered she wasn’t too happy by the way she looked at him speaking to Mona specifically.

Terry is known to circle the block on an old submissive if he’s not happy with the current one.

Nami knew Mona wasn’t an old submissive. She’d never go after the same one her friend had used. But it made her wonder if he had rejected her. Yet, it didn’t matter, seeing her hand on his arm made her face warm and not with anger or jealousy. Mona was a gorgeous girl, she turned heads every time she stepped in a room.

He’s picky.

Maybe he had picked wrong.

She felt like an idiot. The night before suddenly felt meaningless. He had been right. Why did she think she could find a full blown relationship and a dominant? On the same site? She could barely find the former offline. He was making her look stupid. Once she saw him laugh, it had become too much. She turned on her heels and disappeared into the dancing bodies, heading for the exit.

That was when Mona pulled away, slightly satisfied she showed Nami the kind of man Terry was. Well, at least she thought. He had already noticed the way Mona stared at Nami, the hate etched into her furrowed brows when he turned around to see them staring after their kiss.

“Come down,’ he says, hand out to help Mona stand before him.

When she was standing before him his smile dropped and so did the bottom of Mona’s stomach. His eyes narrowed as he leaned forward, his lips by her ear. He had his hands in his pockets but she could feel the reach of his words caressing her ear.

“Do some petty shit like that again.”

“What?” Mona says, flustered.

“Don’t act as dumb as you look.” She swallowed the lump forming in her throat. “Call your Dom.” He says. He looks over but doesn’t see Nami and his irritation grows to frustration, but he keeps his cool. “Now.”

“Why,’ Mona whispered, suddenly understanding the gravity of her mistake. She knew she crossed a line touching him, especially knowing he was active.

“Call him and put him on speaker.”

He was impatient while she fumbled to pull out her phone. She dialed the familiar number and placed it on speaker.

“Ready to come home already, kitten,’ his voice said, oblivious to the pair on the other end of the line.

“She actually is.” Terry replied. “She’s coming to tell you how much of a disrespectful insecure bitch she is.” He chuckled darkly, watching Mona’s face drop.

“Terry?” The voice changed to something serious. “Dude, what’s going on? Mona you there?”

“She’s here, looking stupid of course.” Terry straightens his shoulders. He had some ground to cover in finding Nami so he left Mona and her Dom with this. “I want you to hear me when I tell her this. Are you listening?”

“Yeah,’ he replied.

Terry was silent and the correction came quickly.

“I mean, yes, Sir.” He added. “I’m listening.”

“If she ever puts her hands on me without permission again to make my submissive feel,’ Terry kissed his teeth slowly trying to pick his words carefully, ‘unwanted, I will bring her to you and show you what discipline looks like.”

Nami was two blocks away from somewhere when she saw headlights. A black Mercedes G-Class cut her off before she could cross another street. The driver’s door opened and Terry slid out, an unamused look on his face.

“I don’t like chasing,’ he says. “Don’t make me do it again.”

He opens the passenger door after pulling her towards the car. She was stumbling in her heels and he stopped her, made her kick them off and tossed them in the trash.

“Get in the car.”

She wasn’t sure who he was right now. Was he her Dominate? Her……they never defined the other half of their relationship and Mona’s words ringing in her head caused another flood of tears.

Once she was in the warm car, Terry made a sharp U-turn back towards his side of town, his house a thirty minute drive from downtown. He eased into a Whataburger drive through and looked at her.

“You have thirty minutes to speak freely, Nami. After that your punishment still stands.”

“Patty melt, tea, no fries, spicy ketchup.” He placed the order and pulled forward, coming to a stop behind a white truck. “Are you mad at me?”

“I was never mad,’ he says, though anger coursed through his veins at the entirety of the situation. From her wearing the wrong color out to the way her friend acted to get a rise out of her, seeing the tears he realized how well it worked.

“What happened?” He asked. “I know she said something to you.”

Wiping her face, she went to rub it off on the pink dress when Terry reached between her legs to open the dash. He placed tissue in her lap and then reached behind the seat for his jacket. His scent filled her nose and she watched the way the muscles in his neck flex as he stretched his head to see.

“Take that shit off,’ he says. “Tell me what was said.”

“There’s a zipper tucked into the back. I can’t reach it,’ she gave him a pleading look. “Can you help me?”

His arm reached out, touching the back of her neck before his fingers dug around the top for the gold zipper. When he yanked it down, he watched the material fall into her lap, her full breast bouncing out. She wiggled out of the dress and pushed it to the floor of the car. Fully naked, he passed her the jacket and right as she was zipping it up he pulled to the pay window.

“I’m waiting,’ he said.

“She asked me about our session last night. I told her-’

Terry grabbed his card back, lifting his foot of the break to ease forward. “What did you tell her about it?”

Of course he wanted his ego stroked. It was why he texted her in the first place. Dealing with this shit wasn’t part of the plan.

“I said,’ she drawled, smelling the food from the window, ‘that your hand should be a necklace. I enjoyed it.”

“That isn’t why you have been crying.” He grabbed her food and passed it to her. He saw her about to stick her hand in the bag and shook his head. “The only thing that gets eaten in my car is pussy. Tell me what she said that made you leave and walk two blocks away from me.”

Placing the bag on the floor between her feet, Nami tugs on the hem of the jacket. Out of scene, his words sounded more lewd, her thighs rubbed together at such thought.

“It was mostly about how you’re picky. That you are known to circle back to old submissives when the new one isn’t making you happy.”

It made sense why Mona touched him now. He gripped the steering wheel, his plan for tomorrow needing a bit of fine tuning. Though, his palm itched at his lesson for the night. He’d been feening to get his hands on her in some way.

“What else?”

“She asked me if I actually thought you wanted me as a submissive.” Nami swallowed.

They arrived at his house in silence.

“I want you to get inside and eat. Water is in the fridge.” He grabbed her tea and opened his car door.

When he came around the other side and saw her pushing the door open he pushed it closed. Nami looked at him through the window confused.

“This door is an extension of me,” he replied, after opening it for her.

Nami nodded and slid out of the lifted car. Barefoot she reached back into the car for her phone and the remains of her outfit. Terry had her food in his hand, the tea tossed out, and led her towards the side door where the garage was. When she came over the previous night she had come in through the front which led right into the living room where she had spent the next two hours choking on dick. His kitchen was pristine, white subway tiles, black accents and appliances. The coffee maker had been used and the aroma of a rich dark roast filled her nose. He placed her food on the counter and pulled a stool from under it.

Nami took the offered seat, her feet swinging at her sides. She found the microwave and noticed the clock read 1:02 am. Had that much time really passed? Hungry, despite the time, Nami tore the melt in half and dipped it into the ketchup, the savory taste soothing all the cravings for melted cheese and meat she had all week.

Terry stood there as she ate, watched the way she rocked side to side, her face was stained with mascara.

“Take off the jacket when you’re done then sit on the couch, hands under your thighs.”

He left her there, retreating to his room and closing the door. She didn’t want to rush, but she slid from the stood and grabbed one of the waters he had meticulously arranged in two straight lines. The same could be said for the Gatorade, two red bulls, and four bottle of orange juice. There was an assortment of meat in thick butcher paper and she wondered what it was.

Not wanting to get caught, Nami twisted the cap off and drank half of it, tossing the crust of her sandwich in the trash. She washed her hands and face, getting rid of the black makeup streaks. Going to the couch, she placed his jacket on the loveseat next to it and took a seat. Her hands were cold under her thighs and she waited for him to come back out.

Her toes rubbed against the plush carpet and for the first time she realized it was white. There was a wooden table in the center of it with several hooks bolted to it.

“Nami.”

Terry stepped out of the bedroom, shirtless with his sweats low on his hips. She’d seen him naked, but half naked was doing something to her. She straightened her posture and looked up at him.

“Yes Sir?”

His hands were behind his back, but she did recognize the cuffs from last night in his hands.

“I need your consent for the night.” He walked over to sit on the table in front of her. “Tell me I can use you. Tell me I have your full consent.” He leaned forward, his forearms on his thighs as he looked her in the eyes. “To punish you.”

Nami dug her feet into the carpet. Eventually she opened her mouth. “Please use me, Sir. You have my consent.”

He waited.

“To punish me.”

This time she noticed the switch flipping. The way his face dropped and became indifferent almost. Detached.

“I’m not mad about you going out. I could have let the pink outfit slide, but you left and made me chase you. I realized our boundaries are too flexible.” He held her chin in his hand, brushing his thumb across her bottom lip. “I had wanted to call you over. I wanted you on your knees sucking me off,’ he says, standing up, ‘but, we have to deal with your punishment.”

He brought the handcuffs into view and unhooked them, placing the key on the table. “I need you to check in with me if it becomes too much, okay?”

“Yes Sir,’ she says, unsure of what he was about to do.

The anticipation set in her belly in a way that it churned. She looked up at him as he pulled her right arm out. The cuffs were cold and tight, much tighter than last night. He did the same with the left arm, locking them together at the wrists so they faced together. She linked her fingers and he pulled her to her feet. He lined her up with the table and tapped the back of her thighs.

“Kneel,’ he pulled her arms over the table afterwards, a second hook locked onto the cuffs, stretching her out over the table. It was cold against her chest and she scooted her hips closer to the table’s edge for some relief.

Terry sat behind her and smoothed his hands over her back.

“You good?”

“Yes Sir.”

His hand came down on her left ass cheek, loudly filling the room with a slapping sound followed by her scream. “Count them, you have nineteen more to go.”

“One,’ she whined, the sting warming her cheek.

”One what,’ he growled. “Get it right or I will start over.” He smoothed his hand over her ass, even leaning down to kiss where he first struck. “I can and will do this all night until you do.”

“Sir, one, Sir!”

He struck her four more times, alternating each cheek in a bruising rhythm her body couldn’t get used to. He smacked her ass upwards, watching it jiggle, then downwards to inflict that stinging pain.

“Five, Sir, I-’ she choked, face wet from crying.

Instead of stopping him, she was soaked. Terry had noticed the way her pussy glistened two slaps ago. She enjoyed the pain. She began rubbing her thighs together, seeking friction for some relief.

His hand wove into her hair and yanked her head back. “Keep that shit still.”

He held her in the arch, landing smack after smack to her bare ass.

“How many?” He asked roughly, the red marks on her ass matched the shape of his fingers, they were rising into welts.

Nami was a crying mess on the table. The arch in her back was verging on pain as Terry dipped his fingers between her legs, stroking her sopping pussy.

“Seventeen, Sir,’ she croaked.

“Almost done.” He said soothingly. “Daddy’s almost done.” He felt her pussy flutter against his palm after that, noting that for later usage.

He struck her again, then asked. “What are you sorry for?”

“Pink,’ she hissed, ‘I….left..”

Terry laughed, her voice was so broken, weak, tired. “Count.”

“Eighteen, Sir.”

He let her hair go and she flopped to the table, head pressing into the wood. Nami’s arms burned from the stretch.

“You’ve made a mess on my carpet,’ he states, as if he didn’t have it cleaned daily. “Wet ass pussy needs to be getting fucked right now.”

He moved behind her, pressing his length against her cunt. He tugged her hips back, knowing it was pulling on her arms. He mimicked the motion of fucking her, coating the front of his sweat with her slick. Nami did her best to let him lead, trying not to take too much initiative and roll her hips backwards, but it felt too good.

Ever perceptive, Terry struck her left ass cheek, his favorite of the night, and she bit down on her lip, drawing a little blood.

“Nineteen!” Nami gasped, trying to catch her breath, the delay between the slaps scrambled her brain. “Sir…, please,’ she croaked.

“Be still.”

He continued rutting against her, his tip leaking and creating a dark spot on his sweats. Terry leaned forward, kissing up her sweaty back. “Imagine how deep I could be in this pussy,’ he licked the shell of her ear. “You like this shit don’t you?” He asked.

She wasn’t entirely sure. The pain was unbearable, but her cunt was clenching and was seeking something from Terry she knew he wasn’t going to give her.

“You should see how this ass looks. All red and shit.” He mewled. “Why you letting me spank you like this?” He joked. “Fuck.” He did not want it to end, but he could see the way Nami was losing her grip on reality.

“A’ight,’ he crooned, ‘I’ll let up.”

Nami tried to lift her head when she felt Terry stand up. The friction he had given her seconds ago was replaced with the chilly air of the living room. Her thighs quaked and she thought there was a reprieve. Instead, he smacked her one last time, harder than the previous nineteen, and the air shot out of her lungs. Her lower body rolled to the side from the impact as if she could run from the sting.

“Tw-twen-tty,’ she hiccuped, ‘Sir.”

She was left again and she couldn’t count how long, but it had been at least five minutes before he came back. The hook holding her out the table was released, but she didn’t move. Terry placed his hands on her shoulders and down her arms, bending them slowly to help her sit up. Her face was a mess of dried tears and fresh ones. She looked pitiful and his dick jumped.

He pecked her lips and brought her to her knees. He pushed the waistband of his sweat down and had a fist full of his dick when his phone blared, the only alarm that would go off was one for work that he couldn’t turn off.

He looked down at Nami, her hands bound in front of her and her body shaking from the after effects of her punishment.

“Wait right here,’ he huffed, pissed he was interrupted. His phone read 2:35, and when he answered the call he tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder.

“What they fuck do you want this early Bridges?”

One of his cadets. It was always one of the cadets, fucking shit up at the worst time. He walked back to Nami, sitting on the couch with his legs spread. He beckoned her over and she scooted on her knees, the scratch of the carpet irritating her skin. She watched as he pulled out his dick, hard, and how it slapped against his stomach.

His brow lifted and she leaned forward, wrapping her mouth around his leaking head. One hand came to the back of her head as he used her mouth again.

She couldn’t hear the other end of the conversation but Terry wasn’t pleased.

“If I have to come on base. I will personally beat his ass.” Terry suddenly leaned forward, his dick sliding past her tongue. “Hold on,’ he says, taking the phone from his ear to address her. “Swallow that shit right Nami.”

He waited for her to balance herself. Hands curled in her hair and held her mouth still as he fucked up into it.

A low fuck fell from his mouth. She sucked his swollen head, looking up at him a s she licked from base to tip, swallowing as much as she could in one go. His eyes were closed and his head was lolled back on the couch, his mouth was moving, a grunt interrupting his conversation every so often. Nami hollowed her cheeks and his hips bucked upwards, filling her mouth.

“Shit,’ he cursed.

He scooted further down the couch, slouching but bracing his feet on the floor. He held the phone with his shoulder and dug both hands into her head. He prattled off some acronyms she didn’t know the meaning to and braced herself.

“I might let you swallow tonight,’ he mused, fuck his phone conversation.

Her mouth felt like velvet, warm and wet. Terry rolled his hips, holding her head still so he could slide deep into her throat again. He heard a little gagging, but kept going, letting her saliva dribble down his balls to the couch. He pulled her up halfway and pushed back down, using her throat like a toy.

“I know that pussy is sopping wet," he says, hanging up on his cadet.

Terry tossed his phone to the couch, never stopping his face fucking, and reached down Nami’s back to palm her ass. Nose pressed up against his pelvis, she choked as he smacked her right cheek, grabbing hold of it and shaking. He did the other side, knowing she was sore, and hummed as she whimpered around his dick. The sounds she made felt good. When her shoulders started to slump, he pulled her off, thick strings of spit connected them and he licked his lips at the sight.

“Pretty ass.” He mumbled. “You could have been choking on this dick the whole night, but," he says standing, "you let some other broad tell you about me.”

He, for the second time that night, shoved his dick back into his sweats. He lowered to his haunches and grabbed her throat. His thumb rubbing along her neck. A slow smile crept over his lips before he kissed her.

“You good,’ he murmured.

“Yes, Sir.”

She was starting to think it was the only words she knew. It was a mantra at this point.

“Good, your bath is ready.”

[heytaewrites]

You spend 100% of your life with yourself. Your first priority should be to love and impress yourself with your heart, mindset, talents, behavior & intelligence.

[heytaewrites]

Iron Man: I’m the richest and possess the most advanced technology on the planet

Black Panther:

[heytaewrites]

summary: nami joins a bdsm community in hopes of finding a dominator/partner. she manages to snag Terry Richmond the most sought after and picky dominant in the community of their city.

short warnings: throat fucking, praise kink, size kink, slight voyeurism, teensy objectification

Taglist: @zillasvilla @heauxvibez @harmshake @kuromiish

dividers/warning graphics by @cafekitsune and @firefly-graphics images found on google, template on canva

“How do you feel about me dressing you?” He asked, his eyes were bright as they sat in a bar catered to those of the BDSM lifestyle. 

The Munch had long been over, but Terry’s interest in her had stayed. When he told Nami where to meet him for the first time she was hesitant. Taking the ‘relationship’ offline was frightening and made it real. 

She sat across from him in a yellow milkmaid dress, bare of jewelry, and flats; an ode to the 2000s, because what the fuck? Her hair was up, the brown curls pulled back to show her face and neck. He requested a manicure and she opted for ballerina pink polish on her natural nails. Same with her feet. He couldn’t see them, but she was fiddling with her fingers in her lap. Everything she had on was of his choosing, delivered to her yesterday afternoon with a note. 

No panties. - T

“It’s not exactly my style, but I like the color yellow.” She admitted. 

Terry’s eyes crinkled around the corners as he laughed, full lips stretching over white teeth. 

“The point is to keep wandering eyes away from you.” He admired the way yellow made her brown skin glow. “Yellow is your color.” He stated. “Remember that.” His voice deepened suddenly, ‘come here.” 

She stood up, their little corner table sat to the right of the bar, her back to the bustling crowds coming in and out. She approached him slowly, his eyes eyeing her form and the way the dress stopped in the middle of her thighs. He leaned back in his chair, and pushed her hands to her sides. His hand slipped between her legs, rubbed up the back of her knee and thigh. His eyes stayed on hers, forcing eye contact as his palm cupped her ass, her bare cunt brushing against his wrist. 

“Have you gone without them before?” He asked. 

”No, first time,’ she admitted. 

Terry brought his hand down, discovered she was wet, and began rubbing her slowly leaking hole. “How does it feel?” 

Her face went flush, cheeks hot as she tried to find the words to speak. He had a smirk on his face and knew what he was doing was causing her to lose concentration. 

“G-go-good.” 

Terry dropped his hand and motioned for her to sit back down. 

“Through the nose,’ he instructed. “Inhale.” 

His large hand rested against her bare chest, the other guided his heavy and long dick past her tongue. He felt her chest rising and falling in rapid anticipation and still his movements. She couldn’t see them, his eyes, from her position. Back against the couch's arm rest he made her lean back over it, legs spread, and hands bound behind her back. Law & Order SVU played silently on the tv and if Olivia knew what this man was doing to her she’d call Stabler in for back up. 

For a moment he just watched how she tried to calm herself down so she could take him into her mouth this way. Deep throating was his favorite.

Nami had met him on a site called Fetlife. Her curiosity about BDSM had led her to creating an account she visited on the weekends in the privacy of her home. She explored her novice sexuality and a month ago met him there. A faceless profile she had ignored because no face to the profile was a red flag. 

He pulled from the warmth of her mouth, saliva coating her nose and eyes from an early attempt. 

“Maybe you need an incentive.” Terry hummed. “Something else to work for until my pleasure is yours.” He stepped back from the couch, disappearing from her blurry sight. 

There was some shuffling in another room. What sounded like zippers and slapping made her ears perk up. 

“Nami,’ he called. 

Her head turned at the sound of his voice. “Yes, Sir?” She croaked, her throat felt full though nothing was in it. 

She could only reply with that phrase or her safe word. Stone. Either he had permission or he didn’t. He didn’t care for that inbetween shit. Until she called for it her body was his to do what he willed. 

Naked, Terry walked over and ran a finger from her navel up between her breast, beneath her chin, and tapped at her lips. Her mouth opened and he shoved his middle and ring finger against her tongue. She tasted latex as his thick fingers stroked backwards. Her chest heaved. Terry pressed his other hand to her chest, subduing her movements. 

“You better breathe through that fucking nose!” He growled. “If you throw up on my hand I will wear that ass out and send you home.” 

Their appetizers had arrived first. He ordered for the table and Nami was pleasantly surprised it was just stuffed mushrooms and not oysters. He plated hers first, sliding it across the table with a fork on a napkin to her. Her water sat, half drunk, with the lemon slowly floating to the bottom. She was starting to feel like that lemon, drowning in Terry’s scent and demanding demeanor. He wasn’t ‘on’, but it felt like it. How could someone be so naturally dominant? 

“You eat, I will talk. I want you to take in what I’m saying before you respond, okay?” He prompted. “It would be best if you answer according to the way I requested. I don’t like wasting my breath and time and I want to know you are listening. Active recall, understand?” 

“Yes, Sir.” 

“Good.” He looked down at her plate then back to her face. “Eat.” 

A few bites into the mushrooms and her stomach was starting to feel better. The nerves she had were currently battling the mushroom and Parmesan breaded coating. 

“I’m not an easy Dominant.” He breathed in deeply before letting it out. “I do this for pleasure of course, but when it becomes a chore then I have to reassess. I don’t expect perfection, but I require competence.” 

She reached for her water, needing to cool down the flames burning between her legs. She knew this much from his profile. 

“I have rules and expectations. There are also levels and lessons to be learned. With your naivety there are many things I can teach you and do to you. I will push your boundaries.” He saw she stopped eating and was actively listening to him, but there was a question in her eyes. “Ask me,’ he prompts. 

She furrowed her brows and with a voice barely above a whisper looked down at her food. “I thought it was just really intense sex?” 

“Getting fucked is a privilege. Me indulging in your kinks is a reward for doing what I say and want. You are here for me and not the other way around, understood?” 

“Yes, Sir.” 

Terry had explained that if any time she was not enjoying herself she could leave and he would end their arrangement. That she did not want. However, his posturing was intimidating. He was a man of control that wanted control. 

He pushed his fingers as far as they would go and held them there. Nami’s legs snapped shut and the sensation wetting her cunt and staining the white material with moisture caused her to moan. 

“Open those legs and be still.” 

An ungloved hand came down on her outer right thigh. Stinging she cried out almost gagging up the dinner she had before coming over. 

“Sit up.” 

Nami struggled against the fingers in her mouth. Terry cupped the back of her head and guided her, still fucking her mouth in a steady pace. Tears were spilling from her brown eyes, the sight tightening a knot in Terry’s abdomen. He pulled his hand out and rubbed the spit against her chest. His grip on the back of her head tightened and he adjusted her to sit on the couch, legs spread. 

“We’re going to try this again.” He pulled off the glove and tossed it aside. “When I push you swallow.” 

“Yes Sir.”

“When I pull out you breathe.” 

“Yes, Sir.” 

“Good girl,” he smiled and the sudden change in demeanor caught Nami off guard. 

“I came on a little too strong, hm?” 

He gripped the base of his dick, stroking it against her lips as he stared down at her. 

“Open.” His fat tip bounced against her mouth. She followed his instruction and he pushed the head just past her lips. “Suck me off.” 

Her mouth was wet and nearly numb as she slurped his dick into her mouth. Heavy on her tongue she took as much of him in as she could. His hand stayed in her curls, grabbing her head tightly. Terry was thick and long. She wasn’t sure how he carried it around. Dick was all she could see when she came over. The thick behemoth between his legs had called to her all night and when he finally pulled it out for her to see he denied her permission to touch. 

“The only thing you can use tonight is your mouth.” He watched her undress, the cuffs hung off his fingers. “That’s to suck my dick, safe word, or what?” 

“Yes, Sir.” 

“Good girl.” 

Nami had to admit all of him was overwhelming. His attractiveness, his gait, his gaze, but it was his boundaries that scratched at an itch in her brain.  She knew her rules for the night.

His scotch permeated the air and wet his lips as he sipped it. Seconds later he tossed it back, the glass landing on the coffee table with a soft thud. 

When she had arrived the first thing he did was instruct her to bend over. He stood behind her and lifted her dress, her bare ass flashed him before his hand came down in a teasing slap. Couldn’t help myself. He had said. 

Terry interrupted her recalling with a hard shove of his dick past the back of her tongue. Her nose pushed against the dusting of pubic hair around his base and she struggled against the binds on her hands and the grip on the back of her head. 

“Breathe.” He demanded. “Calm down and breathe for me.”  

Through teary eyes she looked up at him. His face was expressionless as he looked down at her. It took her a few seconds but she began to swallow. It was hard at first. He was so hard already. She had to find the willpower to hold off her vomit. He began to move slowly, pumping his hips forward and back inch by inch until she had a rhythm to match his. 

“Look up at me," he said slowly, "let me see you suck my dick like a good girl.” 

She wanted so badly to touch him. But he left her wrists cuffed behind her back. Her shoulders were beginning to burn from the position and even bending them was a strain to hold. Her eyes were blurry and visionless at this point, but she turned them up to him. All she could hear was his heavy controlled breathing. Precum began leaking from his tip and on a slow drag out she tasted it on her tongue. He paused. She swallowed. 

“Look at that,’ he cooed, ‘opened that shit right up. You want to please me don’t you, baby, hm?” 

He pulled out just to hear her speak, though the large gasp of air and outpour of spit from her lips was a much prettier sight. It all landed on her chest, coating her chocolate colored nipples in a mixture of him and her. Filthy. 

“Yes, Sir.” 

He guided her head back and she opened her mouth for another onslaught, but he took his time. Sliding across her tongue in a a mocking way. His hips would jerk back as she tried to close her mouth around him. He could see the slight agitation on her spit covered face as he played in her mouth. 

He thrust forward and though there was a little retch in her throat, she took him fully. Terry held her head still, enjoying the clenching of her throat around his dick. He could feel the air from her nose being sucked in and released against his lower abdomen.. Between her legs, the same was happening as her pussy clenched around nothing, but dripped down to the floor, dripping like a slow leaking faucet. 

Terry pumped his hips, chasing his pending orgasm. Her knees dug into the floor, trying to balance herself as he clutched her head in his hands. Her curls were tangled around his long fingers as he pistoned his hips, fucking her mouth to his pleasure. 

“Imagine the ways I could fuck that pussy,’ he said, while stroking her throat. “Such a good girl,’ he added, ‘I just might reward you tonight.” He murmured, while licking his thick lips. The praise made her gulp around his dick and it jumped in her mouth. 

Terry yanked back, balls clenched as he grit his teeth together. The sudden squeeze against his already sensitive tip made his toes curl into his carpet. A low curse on his lips. She was a visual mess and Nami used the time his dick was hanging in front of her face to breathe. 

“You trying to make me nut already?” 

Nami coughed but smiled slightly. She was sure she looked crazy. 

“Get back on the couch.”

Terry lifted her by her hair and turned her to face the couch. She moved to the couch before Terry stopped her and sat her in front of it. 

His hand smacked her cheek lightly breaking her from her delirium. 

“Talk to me, baby. How are you feeling?” 

Nami was hoarse and breathing heavy. She blinked through the blur and looked up at him, standing before her like he was some God seeking devotion. 

Her only reply? “Yes, Sir.” 

Terry smiled. “You just might earn more words.” He stroked his dick as he watched her, her saliva coating his hands as he swapped them.

Not liking the way she was positioned he moved her back to the couch, her head dangling over the side. Her blunt nails dug into the couch behind her back. Terry spread her legs, dragging two fingers through her swollen and dripping cunt. He brought them to his mouth and she watched him suck them clean with a satisfied hum. 

“The day I taste that pussy is the day I’ll know God is real.”  He came to stand behind her, dick flat on her face and his balls pressed to her forehead. “Spread your legs and open your mouth.”  

Terry pulled her back further, the arch making her hiss, and slid back into her mouth. He stilled and reached down, smacking her pussy a few times, enjoying the way her fat lips shook. Nami started to squirm and pulled against her binds. Observant, Terry began to move fucking into her throat at a slow pace. 

Ten minutes after the mushrooms, two bowls were placed in the table. Cacio e pepe. They both ate in silence for a few minutes, sharing looks across the table. He was trying to read her face and she was trying to avoid looking him in the eyes too much. In the photos he shared with her they were hazel, in the afternoon sunlight they were currently tipping the scales of blue. 

She nervously tapped her fork against the bowl, the ceramic creating a ringing sound. 

“What’s on your mind,’ he cut through the silence abruptly. 

“Do you have other submissives?” 

His lips turned downward for a millisecond and if she hadn’t been watching his lips she would have missed it. Terry placed his fork down and took a sip from his own glass, a long island. She could smell the alcoholic beverage from her side of the table. He was a drinker. An image of her sucking his dick as he drank flashed in her head and she snapped her legs closed. 

“I have done a few scenes.” 

In the local community he was a sought after dominate and tended to avoided play parties because he knew the outcome. They would clamor over their own feet for his attention, circling him like vultures on a dead carcass. 

The woman in front of him wanted more than that and he knew her question was leading. Not everyone could disconnect from their dominate after a scene. Some wanted the sporadic attention then go about their lives. What she wanted was a bit more domestic and monogamous. He knew that. Her little profile had that in bold letters at the top and bottom of her bio. Fetlife wasn’t the best place to find a dating partner and a dominate, but Terry could oblige. It had been a while since he had a partner. In more ways than one. The ex-Marine watched her finish her meal, his palms itching to touch her again. 

“You want a permanent situation.” 

“Yes, Sir.” 

“Do you think it was smart using Fetlife?” He asked. 

“I’m hoping you aren’t going to make me look stupid for using it.” 

Terry’s lip curved upwards at her quick response. “We’ll see how your first lesson goes with me, compatibility in this area is important. It’s not a part of me that I can turn off.” 

His dick twitched in her mouth. 

Terry had one foot on the couch and the other between her legs, his hands gripped her head as his dick plunged in and out of her mouth. He was trying to edge himself, but she had learned quickly on how to breathe and it was difficult fighting against the squeeze of her throat. When she whined around him his control slipped. Terry rode her face, using one hand on the back of the couch to balance his weight. He brought her head towards his pelvis to met his thrusts, her gagging a melody as he hummed and chased his orgasm. When it was on the cusp his toes dug into the fabric of the carpet and floor. Elation spread through his long limbs, including the one choking his submissive. 

His submissive. 

His……

Terry let his body claim his submissives. There had been very few that could elicit a primal and feral response from him. He always sought his completion, wanting to cum on or in them but the woman in his clutches had to earn it and he was more than willing to teach her. However long it took. Until she was pliant and could read his body and knew what he needed so he could give her what she craved. 

She felt his balls tightening as they slapped against her chin. She wanted to badly to touch him, rub her hands up his thick thighs, grip the muscles of his ass to draw him deeper into her mouth. She wanted to swallow him whole in his entirety. Her body tingled at the thought of him chasing his heights. Used in a way she felt like a toy utilized for his pleasure. A good girl. 

“You’ve done so good,’ he grunted, yanking out of her mouth. 

She coughed, throat sore from the onslaught, but he held her head back, rapidly stroking his dick in front of her face. Thinking he was going to cum in her mouth, she opened it back up and stuck out her tongue. Terry laughed through his moans. 

“Nahhh,’ he grunted. “You have to earn that.” 

Thick, hot, ropes of his cum landed on her neck and chest. The sudden warmth made her jump but she relaxed as he covered her neck in his load. Heavy breathing between the two of them lasted long enough for his cum to cool on her skin creating that sticky feeling as it ran down her chest. Lips swollen, she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, still tasting some of him. She would well until tomorrow night. 

He looked down between her legs, the floor was wet from her pussy leaking so much. Her inner thighs drenched and her clit swollen just waiting to be sucked on. He wanted to lie on his stomach in front of her as she was and lick her clean, but his restraint took him backwards to the guest bedroom. When he returned, she was still waiting for him, legs open and her body relaxed from being able to catch her breath. 

His aftercare was simple; a warm rag wiped the remnants of his cum on her body. Helping her up, he pressed their chests together while he un-cuffed her, her shoulders slumped forward and she whimpered in pain from being able to move them freely again. 

“Go get in the tub.” 

He had cleaned himself up she noticed. Black sweats and a matching shirt covered him from her would be wandering eyes. Following behind her, she noticed clothes on the bed, water, and a bottle of Tylenol. Once inside the steaming bathroom, she made her way to the tub, using the edge to get herself in. Terry helped her sit, and the hot water soothe the aches in her body. He checked in with her, asking if she was okay and what she did and didn’t like about their session. 

“Was I too rough?” He asked, thinking back to how he had spoken to her. He had gotten so lost in his element that he hadn’t been sure if she was okay with being spoken to that way. 

She shook her head, moving the water up so it splashed against her throat. Terry reached behind him for a bottle water he had brought into the bathroom. Uncapping it, he held it to her lips, needing no instruction she opened her mouth, swallowing the room temperature water with ease. 

“You did well,’ he hummed, hands dipping into the water and descending between her legs. “How close were you to cumming for me?” 

His middle finger slipped into her cunt, stroking a fire that hadn’t fizzled out yet. 

“So close,’ she sighed. 

He added his thumb, stroking her engorged clit in tandem with his strokes. “Hm.” 

Terry pulled his hand away and grabbed her throat. He pulled her in, lips dangerously close to hers. “But you knew not to?” 

“Yes, Sir.” 

He finally graced her with a kiss, his lips full against hers. Languidly, Terry kissed her and used his tongue to stroke his way into her mouth. Nami whimpered into his mouth, wanting so badly to grab him, but she had no permission to touch him. Not even out of scene. Everything about this arrangement was controlled. 

He pulled away with instruction. “Bathe and get to bed.”

Terry stood, leaving her in the bathroom and without the option to get herself off.

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