#Keyera

[keanureevesisbae]

Hi, I came across your page and I noticed that you have Chicago P.D. fics. I'm a big fan, too, especially a fan of Kevin Atwater. So, I was wondering if I could be added to your One Chicago taglist?

Hi love,

Unfortunately I am no longer writing and posting fics on Tumblr, so I am not working on any projects anymore 😓

I'm sorry :(

[notapradagurl7]

Miss Me?

Black Fem! Reader x Elijah “Smoke” Moore.

Summary: After those years of hearing of his disappearance, your husband Elijah “Smoke” Moore had finally returned home, and you weren't up for a warm welcome. But he wanted to speak with you, and remind you that you're still his. Only his.

A/N: Here is something for our main man Smoke, 😩 enjoy!

Warnings: dirty talk, praise, possessive!Smoke, slight back talk, stubborn reader, fingering, cursing, unprotected sex, use of the n-word, established marriage, creampie, consensual intimacy, multiple orgasms, squirting.

Taglist: @megamindsecretlair @satoruya @planetblaque

@playgurlxoxo @dabratzchronicles

@becauseimswagman1

@beenathembo @brattyfics

@hxneyclouds @yassbishimvintage

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes @nayaesworld @ovohanna24

@novahreign @writingsbytee @avoidthings @kimuzostar @slippinninque @keyera-jackson @theblacklewinsky

@euphorichappiness10 @life-in-the-slut-house @secret89sblog @ranikyani

@uniqueoutlierblog @mama-2001

@fakxmbj @kaylalb @theereina @uzumaki-rebellion @blyffe @kumkaniudaku @luckydaye777 @that-one-anxious-mango @rose-bliss @wanderingreader1 @kindofaintrovert

—————-

The rich aroma of marinara sauce mingled with a variety of seasonings and spices, enveloping the medium-sized kitchen, the walls painted in sage green and pictures of you, and Smoke.

Your deep brown eyes were fixed on the bubbling pots simmering on the stovetop, the vibrant colors of the food enticing your senses. With a gentle turn of the knob, you watched as the blue flames flickered and gradually faded to embers, silencing the hissing gas.

You moved with quickness, pulling out an array of containers, each one filled with fragrant foods. Scooping out generous portions, you layered your plate with creamy mashed potatoes, perfectly cooked spaghetti, and sautéed cabbage with sausage that glistened with a hint of olive oil.

A low rumble from your stomach reminded you to eat, prompting a sigh of relief as you finally took your first bite. The flavors danced joyfully across your tongue, eliciting a soft hum of delight as each taste unfolded, cleaning your plate, after sipping your glass of water to quench your thirst.

Suddenly, a sharp knock echoed through the air, cutting through the meal you finished and breaking your concentration. You wiped the remnants of food from your lips.

You let out a resigned sigh, reluctantly leaving your plate behind as you hurried to the front door. Peering through the window, your heart raced as the amber-orange glow of the porch light illuminated a familiar silhouette, casting a soft shadow that stirred curiosity and cautious within you.

Smoke or as you called him, Elijah. That was who stood at your door, a shadowy presence in the twilight. Also known as your husband.

He was the twin brother of Elias “Stack” Moore, a pair known for their ruthless dealings in Chicago and New Orleans, everywhere.

Together, they undertook the grim tasks laid out for them by the notorious Al Capone, their hands stained with the dirt, and blood of their illicit trade.

In a moment that felt both tender and fleeting, he had expressed a desire to marry you before he vanished into the chaos of the city.

His promises dripped with hope as he claimed he would return to you, that the day would come when you would once again find him wrapped in your arms.

But as the shadows deepened and trouble began to swirl around them like a whirlwind, each passing day drew you further away from that heartfelt vow, leaving you to wonder if he would ever return.

Your family warned you that marrying him was a grave mistake; they insisted that being with Smoke only invited trouble.

Yet, despite their concerns, your love for him and his love for you ran deep—deeper than you could articulate. Now that he was finally back home after those long years, everything felt different.

With a sigh of disappointment, you shook your head. “What the hell does this nigga want?”

You knew you'd regret this, at least a little. You were still his wife, and he was still your husband.

Turning the brass knob, you swung the door open. Your gaze fell upon the man in his gray suit, blue tie, and the hat he had removed. His brown eyes met yours, brimming with raw emotion—love, longing, and a hint of fear.

“So, you’re back?” you asked, tilting your head slightly, skepticism lacing your voice.

His expression softened momentarily before he composed himself, gripping his hat tightly. “Yeah, I’m home, back wit’chu. Just like I promised, baby,” he said, his tone laced with seriousness and tenderness, each word resonating with sincerity.

Elijah stepped into the house, and you quickly closed and locked the door behind him. The way he said “baby” sent a shiver down your spine, igniting a wave of desire within you. How could you feel this way at such a moment?

The scent of the meals you cooked filled his nostrils, his stomach rumbled as his tongue glided through his lip. “What’chu cookin’ tonight? My favorite?” he teased, smirking at you.

You should have been angry with him; he was at home, but he might have been driving for work, putting in long hours until his hands hurt and his body was exhausted. Smoke couldn't wait to return to you.

“You can always make yourself a plate, sweetie. Don't starve yourself.” You replied frimly, you walked through the hallways as he followed behind you.

You settled into the chair at the neatly set table, the crisp brown cloth contrasting with the rich, dark wood beneath. He began to fill the meal, carefully lifting the lid from a steaming porcelain dish and dishing out vibrant, aromatic food that filled the air with its savory aroma.

The utensils clinked softly against the plates as he prepared his serving, a sense of expectation hanging between you. You knew he loved your cooking, there was no need to speak about that.

Taking his seat across from you, he dug into the meal with a satisfied hum, savoring each bite and clearly relishing the flavors.

You watched him intently as he slipped off his shoes, the soft thud breaking the gentle ambiance, and unfastened his coat, draping it casually over the coat rack. “I love your cookin’ you know that?” he mentioned, his eyes on you.

Your lips curled up in a warm smile, your heart fluttered in your chest. “I know that, you tell me that shit every time I cook,”

He then moved to the counter sink, filling a glass with cool water, the sound of liquid pouring into the glass punctuating, and took a long, refreshing gulp.

His gaze wandered over you, lingering on the nightgown you wore—the delicate black fabric that clung to your figure in all the right places, a garment he adored.

The playful glint in his eyes suggested that the food was not the only captivating thing in the room, making it thick with undeniable attraction. He stood up from the table, made his way to the sink, washed his hands and his plate. Drying them off with a towel.

“Why did you come back? After all these years, couldn’t you have stayed with your brother?” You replied back, your brows knitted in anger.

“You gon’ kick me out? This is still my home. I bought this place for us, so we’d always have a home to return to, Y/N,” Smoke retorted, placing his empty plate in the sink.

You stood up from the table, walking toward your husband where the sink was, cutting the distance between the two of you. His gaze locked upon you, the closeness he missed so much was here, the intimacy beckoning for both of your calls.

He was right about that, ever since the two of you were teenagers, he vowed to do this, keep you happy and safe from the threats of his life, be with you.

He stepped closer to you, his clothes lingered with the scent of gun smoke, and his fresh cinnamon, eucalyptus cologne evaded your senses. Why don't you just speak up? Tell him.

“I…I never thought that you'd be back for good, all this time I prayed that you weren't dead, and you can't make up for those years taken from us, Elijah!” You yelled harshly, your voice broke with emotion.

His hands cradled your face, bringing you closer while your face softened at him, his thumbs swiped over your cheeks to wipe those tears away, and your hands laid on his clothed chest.

“You pushin’ me away cuz’ you think I'm gon’ leave you again? Nah, I'm a man of my word baby.” Smoke replied firmly, his voice filled with sincerity, grabbing your hand in his.

He placed your hand on his middle of his chest, feeling his heartbeat like a drum, he smiled at you before kissing your forehead and then lifting your chin, kissing your lips passionately before pulling away to look at you again.

“You feel that? My heart beats for you, keeps me alive, and strong. I ain't going nowhere, you hear me?” Smoke replied, wrapping his arms around you.

You chuckled lightly, shaking your head. “You a poet now, my love? I hear you but who did you get that from? Langston Hughes?”

“I'm tellin’ you what’s on my heart, darlin’ or do I need to show you?”

“Why don't you do that?”

Following that, the two of you retreated to the bedroom, clothes strewn across the floor, with soft moans mingling with slurred words as your face was buried in the pillow.

Smoke held your hips tight from behind, driving into you with a rapid yet forceful rhythm. Making sure that you felt every inch of his dick, all you could do was scream his name and you took it like a pro.

“You miss me, baby?” He groaned, his hand delivering a rough smack on your ass, watching your wetness coat his dick completely. The sheets shocked underneath, remnants of the passion he left behind.

“I-i..missed you..fuck!” You moaned loudly, eyelids closed shut nails while your hands balled up the blankets. Tears blurring your vision, you came undone quickly which made him darkly chuckle before kissing you.

He smirked at your face contorting in pleasure, your body shaking against his as sweat covered your bodies, he peppered kisses along your spine, “Good, cuz’ I missed you more, and I told you I'm stayin’ right?” Smoke grunted after every thrust after pulling out.

He wrapping his arm around you and flipped you on your back, sliding his dick back inside you. You shudder at the warm feeling, it felt so right. With him. “Y-yes, I..I need you, Elijah. Only you,” you gasped, your words a desperate plea that only fueled his intensity.

His eyes darkened with desire as he leaned closer, his lips peppered kisses on yours. Wet noises of your pussy swallowing his dick, the bed creaked. “Sounds like your pussy ain't forget about me,” he said to you, his voice deepened. He released low groans, “Eiljahhhh..shit!” you lamented, clawing at his shoulder blades. he missed you so much that words couldn't even explain.

“That’s what I like to hear, baby. You’re mine, and you know just how much you mean to me,” he murmured, his thrusts became sporadic and deliberate. Flipping you onto missionary.

Smoke’s hands roamed your body, his nails dug deep every curve as if he were tracing the stretch marks on your dark brown skin. “My beautiful wife, where would I be?” he said, His fingers tangled in your braids, pulling you closer as he thrust deeper, hitting that sweet spot.

“Elijah! Please—more,” you cried, your back arching as waves of pleasure coursed through you. You could feel his heartbeat matching the rhythm of your own, tiny cries from you spurred him on.

He chuckled darkly, his thrusts becoming more relentless, pushing you to the edge. “You think you can handle it? You’re not too sore for me, are you?” he taunted, his voice thick with lust.

“No, I can take it! I want it all, Elijah!” you whimpered, feeling yourself teetering on your climax.

“Damn right you can,” he growled, his hands gripping your thighs, holding you in place as he drove into you. Your knees buckling in response.

With each crazy thrust, he punctuated his claim, and you felt your body responding, tightening around him, begging for release. “Elijah…I’m gonna cum,” you breathed, your voice breaking. Your legs rested onto his shoulders.

“Can I give you some twins, baby?” he coaxed, his lips finding yours again, swallowing your moans as you succumbed to the overwhelming pleasure.

“Yes…baby,” You cried out his name, your body shaking as you came undone once more, Smoke followed closely behind, his warm cum spilling deep within you, giving you the twins he asked for.

Breathing heavily, he pulled out and collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms. His hands stroked your face, “You good?” he asked, and you felt the warmth radiating from him, “Yeah…I’m good…” a comfort you had longed for during his absence.

“I missed you so damn much,” he confessed, his voice softening as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“You’re here now, baby. And that's what matters most.”

—————-

[mikaylathenerd5]

Somewhere Between Silence (Coming Soon)

Inspired by “Valentine’s Day (Shameful)” by Kehlani

❝Some things don’t shatter. They bruise. And you carry them.❞ — Somewhere Between Silence

📖 Series Summary: Somewhere Between Silence is a three-part Roman Reigns x Black OC series about missed chances, slow forgiveness, and the kind of love that doesn’t fade—it lingers. It’s about co-parenting after heartbreak. It’s about a man who missed the most important moments—and still chooses to show up. It’s about a woman who carried everything alone. And it’s about men in therapy—trying, growing, failing, and choosing to stay.

📍 Part 1 Summary: Two years after their silent breakup, Roman runs into Nalani at a quiet grocery store—with a toddler who has his eyes. What follows isn’t a reunion. It’s a reckoning. The grief hits fast. The regret hits harder. And as Roman starts the slow, painful climb back toward something that looks like redemption, Nalani holds the line she built from scratch.

📎 In Part 1:

A run-in that wrecks the soul

A son he didn’t know existed

Flashbacks, unopened messages, therapy enrollment

A hoodie folded like a memory she never unpacked

The start of something soft—and maybe honest

🖤 For readers who love: Second chances. Co-parenting arcs. Soft moms, protective dads. Men in therapy. Silence as a language. And emotional tension that bruises before it breaks.

🕯️ Word Count: ~5.8k 📅 Read Part 1 here: (Coming Soon)

Here is a sneak peek:

🔖 Join the taglist if you’d like to follow Nalani and Roman’s journey through heartbreak, healing, and soft redemption.

📚 Also, check out my other work HERE for more emotional slow burns, wrestling-inspired angst, and stories that hit in the chest.

📝 Inbox is open. Reblogs, tags, theories, tears—welcome here. Come scream with me in the tags or sob in my inbox—I’ll be doing both.

🔖 @star017 @sheaabuttaababyy @tribalqueen20 @trippinsorrows @mamis-girly

@pittieprincess22 @zoeroxiie @beccalynns-world @keyera-jackson @li-da-savage

@sharmelasworld @jaded-human @lov3rla03 @justazzi @fearlesschimera

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@sayyestoheav3nn @kianaleani @sxvual @vebner37 @sexyblacksimper

@dopematicdiamondz @behavior619 @annfg8 @ayeeeitsmiracle

[keyaho]

Nami stopped her hand at that, her index finger tapping his neck. "Put that leg down,' she said, a little commanding essence in her sweet voice. Terry did as he was told, grinning, but softly moaning as she resumed playing with his dick because that's exactly what she was doing. Playing. 

Note: I wanted to give y'all a preview of R.E.L.Ls, and this has been on my thoughts so it's been my only focus. Dec 25th? It's going down.

@nayaesworld @peachbuttetfly @harmshake @heauxvibez @avoidthings @mymindisneverhere @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @eilujion @heytaewrites @browngirldominion @insidefeelingofanadult @blackerthings @gwenda-fav @brandithecrystalgem @zillasvilla

@captainwithoutmakingitlove @dremmmm @kindofaintrovert @thegreatlibraryofalex @jimmybutlrr @beenathembo @kuromiish @virgomess @bbyxgall @theereina @randomhood @ash-ketchumzzz @dundienominated

@swavydadon wabi-sabi1090 Blackgurlkillinit prawspektn iterum-incipi chiachia14 liquorlaughslove L0vesicktimes kinginwithbreezy-blog eilujion Atomicqueenbitch-blog gabbywontlose Heytaewrites 1333286ab-blog Keyera-jackson deja-r

Solunaseira 1thrasherkookie1 moooonluvr ashykneee cocogoddess0g zoey101-2 reignsboy19 cicici03 Elizablu lous-house-of-thoughtsl reci1996 romansglow mjcurlsss yana3sworld chloeijuana nun0ir simplyzeeka taureanstargirl mzv11

Disc0fair browngirldominion Murrylove venusesworld uceyliyah  Venusesworld prettyfilmz simplyzeeka heytaewrites Liquorlaughslove 

[fluentmoviequoter]

Think Different, Love the Same

Requested by @keyera-jackson! I changed a few minor details but I hope you enjoy!

Pairing: David "Deacon" Kay x fem!activist!reader

Summary: When 20-Squad begins dealing with an activist group, Deacon falls for you, the group's leader.

Warnings: fictional activist group and charter school, mostly fluff, brief mention/depiction of making out

Word Count: 3.9k+ words

Picture from Pinterest

Masterlist Directory | Deacon Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

“I’m calling the police!” a man yells in your face.

“Okay,” you answer calmly.

“Who is in charge of this- this collective stupidity?” he demands.

“I am. And our group is called Need to Know; we’re advocating for-“

“You’re advocating for a trip to jail. Get away from my store or I will call the police.”

“All due respect, sir, but this sidewalk is public property, and your store is not endangered by our presence. Civil protests and freedom of speech are not illegal.”

“Yet,” your friend and fellow activist group leader, Luke, mumbles.

“Forget it,” the store manager exclaims as he tosses his arms up. “You morons can’t be reasoned with.”

He storms off, and Luke rolls his eyes. Your group has staged more than six protests this month, and you’ve come to expect threats from people who don’t understand what you’re doing.

“Should we move?” Luke asks. “He may actually call the police.”

You shake your head. “We’re not doing anything wrong, and this library has repeatedly refused people with physical disabilities and cut hours. They make it practically impossible for people to learn anything here.”

“I get it, I do. But if he calls the police and they actually come, what then?”

“You tell me, Luke. The kids who can’t go to a library or find teachers and classes who are willing to create specialized lessons and one-on-one assistance… how do they learn to respond civilly to police officers? If the cops show up, consider it a teaching moment.”

Luke shrugs before yelling to the small crowd of Need to Know protestors to explain that the police may come. You want to demonstrate the importance of common knowledge.

Your group Need to Know is making information available to all, regardless of age, disabilities, learning inefficiencies, or when they have time. Los Angeles is just a hub, a symbol of the growing problem: inaccessibility to information and bias against those who need it most.

“He actually did it,” Luke mumbles when a police car stops by the curb.

“Who’s in charge here?” the first officer asks.

“I am,” you answer. You hand your sign to Luke and approach the officers with a smile. “How can I help you, officers? Is there a problem?”

“We’ve received a complaint that you are trespassing.”

“Aren’t sidewalks public property? We aren’t blocking any foot traffic, only using our voices to advocate.”

“I understand that, ma’am, but… Several store owners have called and are worried that you will move onto their property.”

“I can assure you that we understand the legality and will not trespass onto private property. What can we do to fix this issue?”

“Just-“

“Wait,” the other officer interrupts. “Are your cars parked in that private lot? Because that could be an issue.”

Several Need to Know members nod, and the second cop smiles as he calls for backup.

“I made a purchase at one of the stores this morning, and we have been into the library several times,” you explain. “A library at which we are all members. Can you charge us with trespassing while supporting a city library and local businesses?”

“Pipe down, lady.”

“There’s no reason for that, officer,” Luke interjects, not threatening in any way but firmly defending you.

“What was that?” the officer demands as he steps toward Luke.

“I only ask that you show us the respect we’ve shown you.”

“Need to Know,” the officer reads. “You may want to read just how much we do for this city. Everyone needs to know how to respect police officers, and that it’s our right to defend.”

“Your right?” Luke asks incredulously.

You raise a hand toward Luke to ask him to stop. “Precisely, officer. We’re simply trying to make that access available. Citizens do need to know how to respond to police officers, we agree on that.”

“Thank you for your time,” the first officer interrupts. He gestures for his partner to get back in the cruiser. “Just make sure this protest remains civil. Have a good one.”

“You too, officer. Thank you for all you do.”

Luke rolls his eyes as the police officers drive away. You take your sign back, holding it up and getting comfortable for another few hours of answering questions and accepting donations from generous library-goers.

Less than a few hours later, however, someone sets out to send you home early.

“I thought I told you morons to beat it!” someone yells.

You and Luke turn together, immediately recognizing the store manager who called the police. When he raises a sawed-off shotgun, you are forced to push your group back onto the private property behind you. Several of them run for their cars, but you remain in place as the man raises his phone to his ear.

“Yeah, I called earlier about trespassers. They’re back, and if you don’t deal with them this time, I will,” he says into the receiver.

“Sir,” you begin calmly.

“No! You said you wouldn’t disturb my shop, but nobody wants to come in when there’s a bunch of sickos out front with signs! Panhandle somewhere else!”

You can handle people targeting you personally but get defensive and angry when they bring your cause into their attacks. Luke widens his eyes in a silent warning not to start anything; you think finishing the argument sounds like a better idea anyway.

✯✯✯✯✯

“20-David, we’ve got a trespassing call at a local library,” Hicks calls.

“How do you trespass at a library?” Hondo inquires.

“Apparently there’s a protest going on, and the strip mall on the next lot has some less-than-impressed owners. Manager of a family-owned organic store just called and said he’d deal with them if we don’t.”

“Not exactly a reason for S.W.A.T.”

“No, but the calls from protestors saying that he has a gun and is threatening to kill the people in charge is.”

“Protestors?” Deacon asks. “So, we need riot control and to disarm an outraged citizen?”

“The protest has apparently been civil thus far,” Hicks explains. “But be prepared for everything.”

“Can’t argue with that. Let’s roll!”

✯✯✯✯✯

“How are we sickos for wanting to teach the next generation?” you demand.

“Yeah, well every group like yours thinks they’re doing good, but you’re just making life harder for tax-paying citizens like me!” he yells, waving the gun.

“Man, just put the gun down and we’ll go,” Luke offers.

You see a large police vehicle approaching and are surprised to read ‘L.A.P.D. S.W.A.T.’ on the side. Several uniformed men carrying riot shields exit the back door after it stops by the curb.

“L.A.P.D.! Put down the weapon!” Harrelson yells.

Patches displaying their last names are attached to their vests, and you try to read them all as you see them.

“Everybody put your hands where I can see them!” Luca requests.

You, Luke, and the remaining group members set your signs down and lift your hands. 

“This is a load of crap,” the manager complains as he sets his gun on the ground.

Harrelson pushes him onto the concrete and cuffs him while Luca and Kay move toward you with the weapons lowered.

“Need to Know,” Luca reads from a discarded sign. “Are you aware that you are on private property? It’s illegal to stage a protest without prior authorization.”

“We were on public property before this guy threatened us with a gun and pushed us back into his parking lot,” you argue.

Kay nods and asks, “Were you asked to leave while being on private property?”

“No. He told us to leave while we were still on the sidewalk, and he called the police, but once he got us back here, he just accused us of panhandling.”

“He’s not pressing charges,” Harrelson alerts. “Mostly because he can’t, but, you know.”

“Alright,” Kay says. You notice that his eyes are on you; yours are on his, too, so it’s not easy to miss. “You’re free to go.”

“Thank you.”

✯✯✯✯✯

“What now?” you ask Luke. “The petitions for newer, safer libraries is going to legislative this week, we’re starting the first literacy course in a month… We have to keep going, but library protests aren’t cutting it anymore, Luke. We have to actually do something. Human rights issues, political issues, everything that people need to know seems to be blocked by the city. The bureaucracy wants to tell part of the truth and make sure the people who need knowledge most don’t learn.”

“That charter school that, what’s her name, Linda? The one that her kids just got pulled out of?” Luke asks.

“Yeah, Home of Hope or whatever. What about it?”

“She pulled her kids out because they refused to work with her son. He’s dyslexic and has some social issues, and they said he was difficult and simply couldn’t learn.”

“Get there, Luke.”

“Patience, grasshopper. That’s the epitome of what we’re fighting against, and the campus backs up to a public park.”

“You want to stage a protest beside a charter school?” you repeat. “I like that.”

✯✯✯✯✯

“What are you reading, Deac?” Street asks.

“It’s the website for the activist group Need to Know,” Deacon answers.

“The protest that we got called out to today. What’s so special about them?”

Deacon shrugs. “Curiosity got the best of me, I wanted to see what they were about.”

“Let me guess! Uh, need to know that cops should be defunded, or, no, need to know that women should or shouldn’t have rights.”

“Both wrong.”

“Men shouldn’t have rights?”

“They’re advocating for accessibility of information. The motto is 'Information for All,' and their mission is teaching people, young, old, disabled, everyone, how to find information they need.”

“What kind of information?”

“Human rights and political issues, financial literacy, home buying… what they need to live successful lives.”

“Impressive.”

Before Deacon can agree, Hondo yells for 20-David to roll. He looks into the situation room and smiles when he sees what Deacon is reading.

“Deac, we gotta go. Your friend over at Need to Know staged another protest, but this one turned violent. Even better, it’s on private property at a charter school,” Hondo says.

“Maybe not so impressive,” Street mumbles as he rushes toward Black Betty.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Hey!” one of the parents entering the school yells. “Just because you were homeschooled or bullied in private school, doesn’t mean you have to find an issue with every knew school your unpaid taxes help build.”

“Charter schools receive property taxes and state funds from district and state based on enrollment,” Luke explains. “Just like public schools. Those uniforms don’t set your kids apart, and the teachers are still just as lazy and unwilling to ‘deal with’ special needs students.”

“Oh, my bad, I didn’t know I was talking to a charter school expert. Whatever teacher you had a crush on, and she turned you down, just get over it man, there’s better ways to work through your feelings.”

“Luke, don’t,” you whisper.

Luke is just as passionate about your cause as you are, and when he drops his sign, you rush to grab his arm.

“Oh, you want to do this? Let’s go,” the parent says. “But I don’t think you have the knowledge to tell one end from another.”

“Actually, I’m advocating for idiots like you who don’t know what common decency is!” Luke replies.

When the parent runs toward Luke, he rips his arm away from you and throws the first punch.

✯✯✯✯✯

You can feel your heartbeat in your eye when the S.W.A.T. vehicle rolls up. This time, you don't wait for a command to kneel with your hands up as the team rushes toward the growing, fighting crowd with riot shields raised.

“L.A.P.D. S.W.A.T.! Everybody on the ground now!” Harrelson yells.

“Luke!” you call. 

Luke’s knuckles are busted open, but he’s winning the fight. A fight that never should have started, but maybe it will at least put Need to Know on the map.

“Are you okay?” Kay asks as he approaches you and the small group of still civil protestors around you.

“I’m fine,” you answer shortly. “Pretty tired of seeing cops at what start as peaceful protests, though.”

He lowers his shield and smiles at your feistiness. When Deacon read your bio on the Need to Know website, he could tell you were a fighter and incredibly passionate; he didn't witness what the passion did to your attitude during the last call.

“Let me guess, you tried to break up the fight and one of them accidentally hit you,” he continues.

“Do I need a lawyer?” you ask.

“We’re taking everybody in until we get a handle on what happened here,” Kay answers.

“Then I’d prefer to answer questions after I’ve received my Miranda rights,” you explain. “Officer…”

“Sergeant Kay.”

“If that’s okay with you, Sergeant Kay.”

He licks his lips, as you suspect, to hide his smile before returning to his team to create a plan for getting everyone to the station.

✯✯✯✯✯

“You signed a Miranda waiver,” Sergeant Kay muses as he enters the interview room. “I didn’t expect that.”

“Lots of unexpected things happen,” you reply. “And most people can’t learn about them, if you can imagine.”

He sighs as he sets a folder on the table. Another officer steps inside, and you recognize him as Luca from the first time you saw them.

“Your written statement matches the story everyone else is telling,” Luca says. “So, either you all stopped fighting to talk and got your story straight before we got there, or you are the unluckiest activist group in the world.”

You lightly tap your bruised cheek and flinch before saying, “I think it is the second one. Two peaceful protests resulting in S.W.A.T. visits feels pretty unlucky.”

“Peaceful protests for what?” Deacon asks.

“Read the website.”

“Told you she was feistier today,” Deacon tells Luca.

“She wasn’t like this the first time,” Luca replies.

“She wasn’t in pain and desperate to see a semblance of change before,” you interject. “Look, if you really want to know what we’re fighting for, I am happy to tell you, but it seems to me that you’re just killing time to do something else. Run background checks on everyone involved, if I had to guess. But unless Luke or the guy who started the fight are pressing charges, you have no reason to hold me as anything other than a witness.”

“I would like to know what is worth all of this,” Luca says, offering a kind smile.

You nod. “I’m sorry for snapping, then. Our mission is basically to make sure that people are informed on basic knowledge. That there’s no bias or endless hoops to jump through just to find an answer or help.”

“How do you plan to do that?” Deacon asks.

Something in Sergeant Kay’s demeanor today makes you think he already knows about your mission… and you. More than that, he seems to agree with or support your cause. Maybe that’s why he smiled earlier.

“Open newer, safer libraries, improve hours for more accessibility, remove enrollment caps from schools, create unique and specialized education for people with disabilities or learning disadvantages. Everyone deserves to learn, especially the people who want to but don’t have the accessibility or opportunity to do so.”

“Then I can see why you’d choose a charter school with nothing to lose by turning people away,” Deacon says.

You lean toward him over the desk and bat your eyelashes as you reply, “I’m glad you see my point. Surely a guy like you can see the good that more education can do.”

Deacon’s eyes widen slightly at your brazen flirtatiousness; he suspects you would be hard to get, even if he wanted to do something. Which he thinks he may.

“Maybe you could tell me more then,” Deacon answers, failing to hide his smile.

“I’ll just, uh, give you two some room then,” Luca interjects.

“Actually, if I’m not being charged, I would like to go home now,” you request. Deacon nods and offers a hand; he helps you stand, and you look into his eyes to add, “Alone.”

Deacon watches you leave, and Luca claps his shoulder.

“Falling for an activist group leader is quite literally the last thing I expected from you,” Luca teases.

“Who says I’m falling?” Deacon replies before leaving and ignoring Luca’s laughter.

✯✯✯✯✯

You are having the first peaceful protest in weeks, and when someone threatens to call the police, you can’t refrain from sarcastically responding, “Ask for S.W.A.T. - 20-David.”

When Black Betty pulls up a few minutes later, you smile as Deacon exits the passenger side. He looks around before raising his eyebrows toward you.

“And you thought you weren’t making an impact. Sixteen calls in a week seem like progress,” Deacon commends. “Maybe not the publicity you want, but who better to change the narrative than an activist group?”

“Sixteen calls,” you exaggerate. “Maybe you should just follow us around then, Sarge.”

“While I wouldn’t be completely opposed to that,” Deacon replies, clearly reciprocating your flirting. “I’m sure you know just how much L.A.P.D. S.W.A.T. does in a day.”

“You’re saying all of that is more important than me?” you ask with a pout.

Deacon smiles as he steps back toward the vehicle. You wave as they leave, and Luke laughs at you.

“You’re welcome,” he says.

“For what?”

“Getting in that fight. You and Sergeant Kay owe your connection to me.”

✯✯✯✯✯

Deacon rolls the window down and looks at you when he gets called to one of your next meetings. He knows you haven't broken any laws, and you'll comply, so he doesn't even bother to exit his car.

“Can I help you, officer?”

“Depends,” Deacon replies. “Are you free tonight?”

“CUBO,” you reply.

“CUBO? For what?” he asks with a laugh.

“I’m pretty sure asking someone who you see almost daily to accompany you on a date would be considered conduct unbecoming an officer.”

“You’re not a criminal, though. No criminal record, no CUBO.”

“No dinner.”

“If it’s not because of the CUBO, then why not?”

“It’s not you, it’s me, Sarge. Ask me again after we actually make some progress with making education accessible.”

Deacon smiles and shakes his head before pulling away.

“Why are you making him work so hard?” Luke asks.

“I’m not. He doesn’t actually like me, Luke. Just the idea of someone doing some good; he’s a cop and a good person, so he likes that.”

“You think he’s a good person, yet you won’t get dinner with him,” Luke muses. “That should be illegal.”

✯✯✯✯✯

“Hey, there’s someone here to see you, Deacon,” Hicks says. “Activist group leader or something. You need anything?”

“No thanks,” Deacon answers as he wonders if it’s you and what you are doing visiting him.

If you are here to see Deacon, he thinks maybe you are finally realizing his feelings are genuine. He likes you, and, as Luca puts it, he’s falling for you, but you seem unconvinced every time he tries to ask you out.

“You asked for me?” Deacon asks as he steps into an interview room.

“I did. I wanted to let you know that Need to Know and the L.A.P.D., after many hours of mediation, have found a solution that benefits us both,” you explain.

“Being?”

“I am taking a step back from Need to Know because it is moving completely online. No more Los Angeles protests from us.”

“You’re backing down?”

“No, we’re just trying a new approach.”

“So, what now?”

“What 'what now,' Sarge? This is the end of me and Need to Know; they have my support but no more black eyes for me.”

“I mean, are you staying in LA?”

“For now, at least. Who knows where I’ll go next, there’s lots of activist groups in the world and surely one of them will need a leader at some point.”

“If you’re so insistent on standing up for the little guy, being a voice for the voiceless, why not become a cop or a special ed teacher? Something a bit more…”

“Tangible?”

“I was going to say hands-on, yeah.”

“Some people just aren’t cut out for that, I guess. Maybe I’ll see you around, Sarge.”

“Wait,” Deacon calls. “Moving the cause to a bigger platform has to count as progress. You said I could ask you to dinner after you made progress.”

“You don’t want me, Sergeant Kay. I’ll leave the do-gooding up to you.”

Deacon, once again, watches you leave. He knows that ‘maybe I’ll see you around’ means you will never see him again, so he has to accept that you are going your separate ways. He met you, though, and that was good.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Drinks are on me, who’s coming?” Hondo yells.

“I’m in!” Luca answers.

“Can’t turn down free anything,” Street adds.

“Deac? We need to get your mind off her, so you’re coming too,” Hondo says.

“Fine. But I’m not doing karaoke with Street again,” Deacon agrees.

“Just because I out-sang you,” Street taunts. “Admit defeat and move on, Deac.”

“Trust me, kid, I’m trying.”

Street shrugs at Luca, both aware that Deacon is no longer talking about karaoke.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Luke, please don’t,” you request as he stands.

“I’ll be right back,” he promises before walking to the hostess stand.

“Deacon Kay!” someone yells across the room.

Your eyes raise immediately, and you accidentally lock eyes with the one man you can’t stop thinking about. Seeing him is a surprise, though not unwelcome. You smile, and he mutters something to Luca before setting his glass down and walking toward you.

“You did say I’d see you around,” Deacon tells you.

“I did. And here you are.”

“You, uh, you want to…”

“Go somewhere a little quieter?” you suggest.

Deacon nods, and you take his hand to lead him outside. You lean against the outside wall and wait for Deacon to speak.

“This is awkward,” Deacon mumbles.

“It could be worse,” you point out.

“How?”

You smile as you lean toward him. Deacon meets you halfway and grabs your waist as he kisses you. In all the moments you have spent thinking of him, you convinced yourself that he was the best man you’ve ever met, and now you are sure of it. More importantly, you believe his advances were genuine, his feelings as real as yours.

The door beside you opens, and you pull away from Deacon when someone gasps. Luke is staring at you with his mouth open, and Deacon’s team appears behind him with similar surprised expressions.

“Do you really like me?” you whisper.

Deacon gestures for Luke to close the door before looking at you.

“I really do,” he replies.

“Good.” You run your finger over his tie as you admit, “Because I really like you, too.”

“So, you’ve made progress, without sacrificing your feistiness, I may add,” Deacon responds. “Now what?”

“I think we try this. Surely there can be more to our relationship than protests and S.W.A.T. calls.”

“I agree.”

You smile, but Deacon kisses you again before you say anything more. Deacon moves you backward and presses you against the wall with his hand between your head and the bricks. Making out with Deacon in an alley was not how you expected this to go but Sergeant Kay is the best thing that has ever happened to you, perhaps even better than Need to Know making the national news.

“Wait,” you pant. Deacon pulls back enough to look into your eyes, and you ask, “Is Deacon really your first name?”

“Is that relevant to trying this?” Deacon jokes as he slips his hand into yours.

[news786hz]

Keyera May 2025 slides: 7-8% EBITDA growth projected through 2027

Keyera May 2025 slides: 7-8% EBITDA growth projected through 2027

[tsmwrites]

"For me, it settles right here," Keyera touched her fingertips to Asha's throat, felt her swallow, then dragged them down, down to the bone beneath her clavicle, "and here."

Asha nodded slowly, trying not to focus on Keyera's retreating hand, on the burn in the imprint she left upon her chest. "I think I know that feeling as well."

Keyera stepped closer, her words a breath between them. "Because of your father?"

"No. Not because of him." She searched Keyera's eyes, hoping to find understanding in them.

Please share an excerpt from a current project

[namenerdery]

Girls with interesting names born in Ohio between 2011-2015 [M & N]

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Magic'Brenda Louise Magnificent'Zaylum Is'Abell Majestik Gail Ann Maleficent Summer Malraeny Willow River

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November-Key Cheyenne No'Vmbre' Elizabeth Sandra Ann Nox Thomasine N'Xya Amaree Nyeiayhlah Lewisiannah-Colandreah

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[stockcalc]

Pembina Pipeline (PPL:TSE) Fundamental Valuation Report

Pembina Pipeline (PPL:TSE) Fundamental Valuation Report

Fundamental Valuation Report Pembina Pipeline(PPL:TSE) Energy:Oil & Gas Midstream This Report was generated using the valuation tools available on StockCalc.com. For a free 30 day trial click here. –Close Price/Date$38.06 (CAD) 05/07/2021 Weighted Valuation$37.75 (CAD) Overall RatingFairly valued to slightly Overvalued by 0.8% Valuation Models Comparables: $35.57 (CAD) Multiples: $37.99…

[beautifulcocaine]

[notapradagurl7]

His Woman.

Black Fem! Reader x Elias “Stack” Moore.

Summary: After one night of drunken sex with Stack, he couldn’t let you go. He was possessive in the worst way, and ready to kill any man who tried to talk to you. But that slick mouth of his was surely a sin and had him crawling back to you.

WC: 2,637k.

Warnings: angst, praise, choking kink, cursing, spanking, possessive!Stack, use of the n-word, dirty talk, consensual intimacy, violence, unprotected sex, murder, doesn’t follow the flim’s timeline, AU where Stack doesn’t even meet Mary, protective!Stack.

Taglist: @megamindsecretlair @satoruya @planetblaque

@playgurlxoxo @dabratzchronicles

@becauseimswagman1 @beenathembo @brattyfics

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—————

Your deep brown eyes remained intently fixed on the polished bar top, meticulously wiping down every nook and cranny with a black washcloth. The warm amber-orange glow from the ceiling lights spotlighted the sheen of your melanated skin.

On the small stage, a soulful black band filled the air with a sweet, melodic harmony, while a plus-sized black woman with rich, dark brown skin stood confidently before a gleaming silver microphone. Her hand grasped the slender stand as she swayed gently, her hips moving in time to the rhythm.

Around you, black men and black women gathered at sturdy brown tables, their laughter and spirited conversations blending seamlessly with the music.

Many held beer glasses high, some spilling a mix of hard and light liquor onto the polished brown hardwood floor, causing their shoes to click rhythmically with every animated gesture.

The moonlight poured through large windows, casting a silvery glow on their melanated skin.

Adorning the walls, pictures of joyful black couples and legendary black singers, juxtaposed with a mounted Moosehead.

She sang a sweet song of love, and having a hold on the person she talked about, it was as if she was speaking from your perspective and Stack’s.

“Don’t you know that love I had for you? Ain’t I the one the you chose? I’ve got a hold on you,” Lucinda sang sweetly, the subtle rasp in her voice.

It was as if you tried to wash away the remnants of the lustful night with Stack, you were telling yourself and him that it was a one-time thing.

But Stack couldn’t let you go, hook, line and sinker.

His touch, the way he treated you, and the passion behind his kisses lingered in your mind.

Stacks had a dangerous charm that could lead to his demise, yet he had evaded death repeatedly. He was prepared for violence, making death wary of him and Smoke.

He made it clear to you that his woman, he didn’t want any confusion on your parts but you tried to tell him at least twice since he was a pimp.

His woman, his girl. Beloved one.

“Hey there, sweetheart, can I trouble you for ‘nother drink? I’m out of liquor…need a refill, and who knows, maybe I can take you out after,” the old man called out, his voice a harsh rasp that cut through the hum of conversation.

As a bartender, you learned to navigate the unpredictable ways of the bar, where the cocktail mixing was often paired with the unwelcome advances of patrons.

Catcalls and crude remarks came with the job, like an unwanted haze. Each time, you brushed off the advances with practiced ease, reminding them, and yourself, that you were spoken for—Stack was your anchor in this chaotic sea.

The mere mention of his name usually silenced the rowdy men; his reputation was enough to keep unwanted trouble at bay. You only said his name to keep these men away from you, as far as possible.

Your face twisted up in disgust at his remark, “No, there’s a drinkin’ limit, and I’m taken. I’m Stack’s woman, Go on about your business, now,” you shot back, wiping the glass in circular motions.

“Hey! You ain’t talkin’ to me, girl? I said that I need a damn drink,” The old man yelled in a harsh tone, his voice was raspy, breath reeked of cigar smoke.

The heavy brown lumber door swung open with a creak, revealing Stack as he strode into the bar.

His crimson red tailored suit clung to his form, the confidence radiating from him. The scene shifted abruptly; bartenders paused mid-pour, patrons halted their conversations, and even the band’s melody came to an abrupt stop, replaced by a tense silence that hung in the air.

Gasps of fear rippled through the crowd, but you remained unaffected, just as the old man sitting at the corner table did.

Stack walked in like he owned the place, each step deliberate and echoing authority.

He closed the door behind him with a deliberate, eerie creak that punctuated the stillness.

With a fluid motion, he pinched the thin fabric of his fedora red hat and tipped it toward you, revealing the intensity in his deep brown eyes.

They locked onto yours with an electrifying gaze that sent a jolt through you, compelling you to look away.

But the moment was short-lived, as his focus shifted to a foolish man trying to push his way too close, igniting a flicker of irritation in Stack’s face.

Stack dashed to the bar table swiftly, his face etched possessiveness and fury. He couldn't permit any man to touch you or speak to you; just the idea of it made him seethe with rage.

Before he could touch you, his hand was yanked and twisted behind his back. A bone cracking noise fills the bar. A gut-wrenching scream left the old man's lips, and hissing in pain.

A gold grill glistened in his evil grin, “You deaf, nigga? She’s my woman,” Stack barked at him.

The old man’s eyes wide in fear, body quaking from Stack’s southern twang, and rasp in his deep voice, everyone in Mississippi feared the twin brothers and when their names were heard, they could have sworn that demons escaped from the depths of Hell.

“S-Stack?! I’m sor—“ The old man tried to apologize but Stack cuts him off immediately.

It always seemed like eveytime you were trying to move forward, Stack was pulling you back. The vicissitudes of life were always there to strike without warning, you need to get away from him.

“Now you sorry? When a man steps up but don’t a nigga ever listen to a woman? Bitch ass nigga, Back the fuck off my woman, who the hell you think you talkin’ to?” Stack yelled back, smacking the back of his head.

Stack’s hand yanked the man by the back of his collared tee shirt, pulling him back and threw on him on the brown hardwood floor with a loud thud, he grunted in a pain.

“No! Please! I ain’t mean no harm!” The old man pleaded in softened voice, holding his hands up in defense.

Stack snatched his pistol from his back pocket of his pants, switching his gun off safety as his evil grin curled upon his face. “Now you wanna beg for your lil life? When mess with her, you do!” He darkly chuckled, shaking his head in disapproval.

“Stack! You’re causin’ trouble, take that shit outside!” You called out to him, pointing to the door.

Just as you told him, he carried the old man outside to the vast forest with the other two men walking beside him, you sighed in disapproval.

You briefly spoke to your boss, as she gave you a glare, and you ran outside to see Stack aiming a gun at the old man, your breath caught in your throat.

“Tell the devil I said leave me and mines the fuck away, Satan don’t want no problems with me or my brother,” Stack declared with authority, aiming his gun toward the man.

Stack’s finger squeezed trigger twice, the gunshot echoed in the night sky as the bullets pierced his heart and skull, and blood splattered out as the men picked up the body, and cleaned up the mess. As they walked away, you approached him.

Stack turned to you with that sinful smirk of his, while you gave him an unfazed glare.

“Elias, I’m glad that his weird ass is dead, but I told you that it was one night?” you replied back, your tone calm.

Now it was his turn to remain unfazed by what you said, even though you called him by his real name which meant that you were serious. He stepped closer to you, towering over you.

“So you ain't feelin' the same way? You tellin’ me that you found ‘nother nigga that can beat up that pussy like I do? Take care of you like I do?”

Your cheeks flushed from his smooth words, and your clit pulsed in response. You tried to speak, but nothing emerged from your lips; instead, images from that night overwhelmed your thoughts, quickening your breath.

He simply took your arms and drew you in, bringing your bodies together so closely that you could sense each other's heartbeats.

“Y-you’re a pimp and I'm not one of your hoes, I'm a workin’ woman, and I don't people thinkin’ any kind of way, Elias,” You said, looking away from him.

Stacks shook his head disagreeing, dipping his head to meet your gaze and brought your face to his, “You’re mine, and I'm yours, fuck what folks say or think. You feel that? Our hearts are in sync, baby,” he whispers to you.

Your breath shudders from his voice, as your hands grip the fabric of his tailored red suit. “You fell in love with me that fast?” you asked him, looking up at him.

“It’s been damn near two weeks since that night, I don't plan on givin’ you some dick and dippin’ Y/N. I'm all in,” He replied back, sincerity in his voice.

You couldn't believe that you were falling for this man, you told yourself you wouldn't be like this. But Stack was in the same boat as you, sailing along the same ocean. You weren't alone at all.

“That slick mouth of yours is gonna get you into some trouble, sweetie. Don't you think?” You flirted playfully, smirking at him.

“If it’s you then I don't mind it, you're worth that trouble. Do you want to make up and go back to my place or yours?” he asked, smirking back.

“How about my place as always?” You spoke up, biting your lip.

Those words from you made him smile, crashing his lips into yours, you responded by kissing him back, lips latching onto his. Tongues battling for dominance, as you moaned softly. “Mmm..”

After that, he was back nestled in your cozy creaking bed. Clothes littered across the floor, the sound of lips colliding and skin-to-skin slapping filling the room, your loud moans in between.

Your back leaned back on the soft bedsheets with Stack’s hips thrusting into your pussy forcefully, as he hovered over you. “You always take dick this good?” he mewled, peppering kisses, his hands gripped your hips tight, drawing out uncontrollable moans from you. You were too busy drooling on the pillow to even remember what you were angry about, your mind was blank. “Fuckk..Elias!”

He clenched his lip, attempting to keep the sounds at bay. Flipping you onto your side, he pushed his dick in further and slapped your ass. "Don't wanna talk no shit? I told you that I'm yours…” he groaned, his eyelids closed tightly once your wet walls gripped around him. You couldn't respond back.

Elias had to be the one to remind you with every relentless stroke, his dick was coated in your cum ever so completely, and he wanted to get every drop. “Damn, tell me what you want,” he grunted, his hand wrapped around your neck, bringing you in for a kiss.

His pace quickened, and you felt the delicious friction build as he hit all the right spots. “More, please… harder,” you pleaded, your body craving more of him, more of this connection.

With a grin, he obliged as his hips snapping against yours, sending you spiraling deeper into bliss. “You’re beautiful, too good for me,” he murmured, admiration and desire lacing his words.

He was right, you were too good for him. You didn't pay much attention to his words, but you could do was moan his name. As he thrusts into you, he gripped your asscheeks to keep you still and for his dick to keep hitting that spot, your mind was hazy, tears falling from your eyes, “Elias…c-can’t take it..” you mumbled off.

The bed creaked underneath both of you with the your nails digging into his back as you felt your climax approach quickly. “I know, baby,” he reassured, his breath warm against your ear as he continued to drive into you, relentless and passionate. Something felt so right with him, why could you try to let him go?

Knots tightening in the pit of your stomach on cue, eyes rolling back. You felt him push even deeper to hit that sweet spot that made you twitch, you loved it. “Cumming!”

You came undone on his dicm without warning, your body shaking underneath him as your back arched, he followed suit by pulling out of you, releasing his thick jets of cum onto the bed sheets. “Fuck,” he groaned raspily, holding your hand gently.

After that, you slowly rose from the bed, the gentle warmth of the covers replaced by the cool air of the room.

Stack, ever attentive, offered his hand to help you up, his touch reassuring as you found your footing.

You made your way into the bathroom, where he guided you beneath the cascading water of the shower, helping you to wash away the remnants of sleep and your night together.

Once you were refreshed, you slipped into your soft purple nightgown, its fabric delicate against your skin. A yawn escaped you, You leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss against Stack's cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin as you bid him farewell.

As he prepared for the night ahead, Stack stood before the mirror, carefully adjusting his tailored suit. He caught your gaze through the reflection, his eyes sparkling with love.

"Would you like to go out with me tomorrow night?" he asked, his voice steady as he met your eyes in the mirror.

You raised an eyebrow, a flicker of skepticism in your tone as you responded, "Like a date?"

Stacks chuckled lightly, nodding his head. "It is a date, and I want everyone to know that I belong to you, and we’re a couple,”

A warm smile spread across your face as those familiar words floated through the air, your lips gently biting in anticipation. “So, it’s a date then! But where are we headed?”

With a playful glint in his eyes, he replied, “It’s a special surprise. I’ll pick you up at eight.”

“Agreed! I can't wait,” you responded, your heart racing with excitement.

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against yours in a tender kiss. As he pulled back, he tipped his hat with a charming flourish, a playful grin crossing his face.

Stepping out of your house, you watched him glide to his car, adding a playful wink as he hopped inside and revved the engine.

A pang of longing swept over both of you as he drove away, leaving you both with a sweet ache of seeing each other for the evening to come.

—————

[mikaylathenerd5]

🩸 BENEATH THE BLOODLINE ~ Coming Soon 🩸

Power buys silence. Blood buys loyalty. In Thornhill, nothing buys forgiveness. Only debt. And debt always collects.

🖤 Psychological Thriller | Dark Romance | Gotham/The Boys Energy | Slow-Burn Smut | Obsession | Power | Trauma

“Some monsters aren’t born. They’re made. And in Thornhill… they’re worshipped.”

Thornhill is a city built on blood and secrets — and Roman Reigns just walked out of prison after serving time for a crime the system couldn’t convict. The city calls him a monster. A myth. A mistake that shouldn’t have been released.

To keep him quiet, they assign him a therapist: Dr. Jasira Imani Cedeño, brilliant, guarded, and fighting her own darkness. What begins as a mandated evaluation quickly spirals into obsession, power games, and a connection neither of them can afford to want.

He’s not safe. She’s not scared. And the city won’t survive them.

Sneak Peek: He hadn’t said a word. Not a single one. And yet Jasira felt the weight of him in the room—sharp as glass, heavy as stone. His eyes tracked her like a wolf cataloging prey—but it wasn’t hunger she saw there. It was something older. Deeper. The kind of knowing that doesn’t fade once it has your scent. "You’re not what they said you’d be," she said quietly. The corner of his mouth curved, slow as a knife sliding home. "Neither are you."

🎧 Mood song: “Rain” by Grandson & Jessie Reyez 🗓️ Dropping Thursday or Friday 🔖 Taglist is open (let me know if you want to join the main taglist)

Main Masterlist ৹ Join My Taglist

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@skyesthebomb @chrissyxcxox @reginawhorge01 @purplementalitybluebird @jeyusosqueen

@brianochka @diamondlifeee @perksofbeingbeautifulyetsobroken @cyberdejos2 @transparentphantomface

@sayyestoheav3nn @kianaleani @sxvual @vebner37 @sexyblacksimper

@dopematicdiamondz @behavior619 @annfg8 @ayeeeitsmiracle

@ariiaellbtheedonn

@romanreignsluver1 @ashykneee @fame-ass-ers @baybehkay @queenofklonnie22

@blackchickinthedesert @thekittysmeow @rollinssection @keenagurl

[keyaho]

a request and something new drops tomorrow!

@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

@swavydadon wabi-sabi1090 Blackgurlkillinit prawspektn iterum-incipi chiachia14 liquorlaughslove L0vesicktimes kinginwithbreezy-blog eilujion Atomicqueenbitch-blog gabbywontlose Heytaewrites 1333286ab-blog Keyera-jackson deja-r

Solunaseira 1thrasherkookie1 moooonluvr ashykneee cocogoddess0g zoey101-2 reignsboy19 cicici03 Elizablu lous-house-of-thoughtsl reci1996 romansglow mjcurlsss yana3sworld chloeijuana nun0ir simplyzeeka taureanstargirl mzv11

Disc0fair browngirldominion Murrylove venusesworld uceyliyah  Venusesworld prettyfilmz simplyzeeka heytaewrites Liquorlaughslove 

[jojpaul-blog]

Usually, I wouldn't notice these trees, but the fog transforms familiar landscapes into something mystical. #canada #shotoniphone #alberta #westpembina #keyera #trees #tree #forest #forests #fog #foggymorning #foggy #frost #frosty #winteriscoming (at Alberta)

[negandarylsatisfaction]

Okay so, girl name first : Daiton (girl name) or Dayton (unisex) , Karamie, Ariana, Emery, Alexa, Madelyn, Morgan (unisex) , Calynn, Ciara, River, Tia, Lashae, Tahnee, Julieann, Tameron, Darlene, Addalyn, Donna, Faye, Kelli, Yennifer, Mackenzie, Rhonda, Kandace, Niamh, Caoimhe, Darla, Gayle, Jackie, Kitty, Pamela, Dawn, Midge, Jacy, Elaine, Aoife, Isla, Ailsa, Aisling, Ceci, India, Makayla, Kimbrelin, Maisie, Sierra, Kinsley, Keyera, Judas

Love these I think my favs are emery and Maisie. Thank you so much!! Deff appreciate this