#Little Green Richmond Green

[jazzdailyblog]

Horace Parlan: The Pianist Who Turned Adversity into Art

Introduction: Horace Parlan (1931–2017) was an extraordinary jazz pianist and composer whose life and career were defined by resilience, innovation, and a singular musical voice. Despite the challenges posed by polio, which left his right hand partially disabled, Parlan became a defining figure in hard bop, post-bop, and avant-garde jazz. His artistry, both as a soloist and collaborator,…

[ruewritesoccasionally]

Caught In The Act | Terry Richmond

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black Reader

Warnings: Smut 18+, masturbation (f), use of toys, voyeurism, oral (f receiving), overstimulation, squirting, dirty talk, teasing, choking, power dynamics

Summary: A stressful week, a late-night release, and thin walls lead to her wildest fantasy—or is it reality—when her neighbour Terry intervenes.

Word count: 1.5K

a/n: chapter 4 of the reunion is underway but i'm procrastinating because writing a series kills me - i warned y'all lol 😩😩 but enjoy this nonetheless

The week had been unforgiving. Every deadline, every expectation, every passive-aggressive email seemed designed to crush her resolve. By Friday evening, she was a coiled spring of stress and frustration. The bourbon in her glass offered some solace, the amber liquid warming her from the inside out as she leaned against the kitchen counter. But it wasn’t enough—not nearly enough—to ease the tension thrumming beneath her skin.

She’d seen him earlier that day, crossing the car park with his toolbox in hand. Terry Richmond, the maintenance man for the complex, had a way of moving that felt unhurried yet commanding, as if the world bent to accommodate him. His low-cut black hair gleamed under the evening sun, and his stormy grey-green eyes seemed to see more than they should. He was a walking distraction, with broad shoulders that tested the seams of his work shirts and a voice that lingered like a touch.

She shook her head, trying to dispel the image of him. But as she wandered back into her bedroom, the thought of Terry lingered, simmering just beneath the surface. Setting her glass on the nightstand, she opened the top drawer, fingers brushing over the sleek contours of her favourite toy. Tonight, she wasn’t going to wait for relief to find her.

The dim light of her bedroom cast long shadows on the walls as she settled back against the pillows. The first hum of the rose-shaped vibrator sent a shiver through her, the tension in her body slowly unwinding as she focused on the sensations. Her free hand roamed over her skin, seeking out every nerve that cried for attention. The stress of the week melted away with every gasp, every arch of her back.

She didn’t hear him at first. The walls were thin, yes, but she was lost in her own world, her soft moans carrying through the quiet apartment. Terry heard them, though. Sitting on his sofa, he’d been nursing a beer when the muffled sounds reached his ears. At first, he thought it was the television, but when he muted it, the unmistakable cadence of pleasure became clearer. His brows lifted in surprise, a slow smirk curving his lips.

Curiosity got the better of him. Setting his beer aside, he crossed the hall, standing outside her door. He stood, his beer abandoned on the counter, and moved to his door. It was late, but curiosity—and something darker—drove him. He’d always noticed her in passing: the way her hips swayed when she walked, the curve of her smile when she greeted him, and those moments when she’d look at him just a little too long. Now, she was practically begging him to come over, her cries cutting through the stillness of the night.

 He could hear her more distinctly now, and the heat pooling in his stomach was undeniable. He knocked once, then twice, but there was no answer. The sounds continued, unabated, and something in him stirred—a mixture of mischief and possession. He reached for the master key on his keyring, rationalising it as a neighbourly duty. After all, what if she needed help?

The door opened silently, and Terry stepped inside. The living room was dark, the faint glow from her bedroom spilling into the hallway. He followed the sounds, his pulse quickening as he neared the source. When he reached the doorway, he froze, his breath catching in his throat. “You’re filthy, aren’t you?” he muttered under his breath, a dark chuckle slipping free. “Giving me this kind of show.”

He let himself in, the faint scent of her perfume mingling with something heady and warm. The sight stopped him in his tracks: she was bare, utterly exposed, her dark skin glistening in the soft light. One hand gripped the sheets, the other guiding the toy between her thighs as it hummed against her slick heat. Her head was thrown back, lips parted as soft cries spilled from her. Terry’s eyes darkened, his grip tightening on the doorframe. He couldn’t stop himself; his free hand slid down to palm himself through his sweatpants, the sight before him stirring a hunger he hadn’t felt in a long time. His breath caught when she let out a desperate moan, her back arching.

She was close—he could tell by the way her body tensed, the way her cries grew higher, needier. He stepped further into the room, his presence finally cutting through her haze of pleasure.

“I knew you were keeping something sweet behind these walls,” he finally said, his voice teasing, cutting through the haze of her pleasure. “But this? You’ve been keeping this from me? Naughty girl.”

“Enjoying yourself?” His voice was low, rough, and it hit her like a jolt of electricity.

Her eyes flew open, and she scrambled to cover herself, mortification colouring her cheeks. “T-Terry?” she stammered, reaching for the nearest blanket.

He stepped closer, his eyes dark and unrelenting. “Don’t,” he commanded, his voice soft but firm. “You’re going to ruin the view.”

She froze, her heart pounding. He moved to the edge of the bed, towering over her, his presence overwhelming. “You know there’s more to my job than being the handyman, right?” he murmured, his tone laced with innuendo. “If you needed help, all you had to do was ask.”

Her mouth opened, then closed, words failing her as he stepped closer. His gaze raked over her, dark and intent, and she felt exposed in more than one way.

“Now,” he continued, his voice laced with amusement, “you’ve got two options. I can stand here, and you can finish putting on that little show for me. Or,” he leaned down, his face inches from hers, “I can really make you feel good. Your choice.”

Her breath hitched, her body betraying her as his words sent a fresh wave of arousal coursing through her. Her thighs clenching instinctively. She didn’t trust herself to speak, so she simply nodded, her lips parted.

“Good girl,” he purred, his hand sliding up to her throat, applying the faintest pressure. “You like that? Being handled like this?”

A whimper escaped her lips, and he smirked, leaning down to capture her mouth in a searing kiss. He tasted of beer and sin, his tongue dominating hers as he pressed her into the mattress. His hand trailed down her body, teasing, until he found the vibrator still buzzing against her clit.

“You can’t handle it, can you?” he taunted, his voice a growl against her ear. “You’re shaking, but you’re not begging me to stop, are you?”

He alternated between the toy and his fingers, driving her to the brink again and again. With the sheets soaked, her thighs trembling and tears pricking her eyes, he finally relented, pulling her hips to the edge of the bed. He positioned himself between her legs, his dick thick and hard as he slid into her, inch by agonising inch.

Her nails dug into his arms as he began to move, each thrust deliberate and punishing. He pinned her wrists above her head, his grip firm but not painful, and growled, “You’ve been doing this with me right next door? Thinking about me while you fuck yourself? Don’t worry—I’ll make sure you don’t need to be by yourself again.”

His eyes never leaving hers. “Now, let’s see what you’ve been hiding from me.”

The night unfolded in a haze of pleasure and command, Terry’s touch igniting every nerve in her body. He teased her relentlessly, alternating between strokes, his mouth and the toy, pushing her to the brink again and again. His voice was a constant, low rumble in her ear, praising her, taunting her, claiming her.

He took her body as if he owned it, she was a trembling mess, every nerve alight with overstimulation. The world narrowed to the feel of him, the weight of his body, the rough timbre of his voice as he murmured filthy promises against her skin. His rhythm grew relentless, his hand sliding to her throat again as his other thumb circled her clit. When she shattered around him, crying out his name, he followed, spilling into her with a low, guttural groan.

The room was shrouded by silence except for their ragged breathing. But just as the pleasure began to fade, she woke with a gasp, her hand buried between her legs and the vibrator buzzing against her clit. Her chest heaved as she came back to herself, the haze lifting—and with it, reality came crashing in.

She wasn’t in Terry’s arms. She was alone, sprawled on her bed, the toy still humming weakly in her hand. Her climax had been real, but the rest? A vivid, all-consuming dream. She blinked, disoriented, her heart still racing as the echoes of her fantasy lingered.

A knock at the door shattered the quiet, and her breath caught. Pulling on her robe, she padded to the door, her pulse pounding in her ears. When she opened it, Terry stood there, a familiar smirk playing on his lips.

“Evening,” he drawled, his eyes sweeping over her. “Everything alright in there?”

For a moment, she couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. Her heart thundered in her chest as she met his gaze, her fantasy and reality colliding in a way that left her breathless. Maybe reality was about to be even better than the dream…

taglist: @writingsbytee @venusincleo (i am behind on editing the taglist because there's a few more people who want to be added to it but let me know if you wanna join it as well)

comments and reblogs are appreciated as well as feedback, i hope you liked it 🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

[brattyfics]

Sins of The Flesh

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC [Riley]

Wordcount: 3,000+

Warnings: 18+ Minors Do Not Interact, No physical description of OC other than her being black, Spanking, D/S Dynamics, Mentions of Heaven/Hell, Alternate Universe (Mike Is Alive), Bratty!OC, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, a tiny bit of Degradation Kink, No P in V, Slight Angst

A/N: Divider by fireflygraphics. Special shoutout to @megamindsecretlair who inspired me to write something for the first time in too long. Thank you!

Riley was the picture-perfect Southern belle. With a preacher for a father and a teacher for a mother, she always kept up her manners in public. But behind closed doors, she had a talent for getting into trouble—and her relationship with Terry Richmond was no different.

He was her very own Black G.I. Joe—six feet, four inches of solid muscle. Intense, stormy green eyes and the face of an Adonis. A flawless specimen—and completely hers.

That morning, she woke up with a familiar ache in her belly. Terry had been gone the entire week to celebrate his cousin Mike’s homecoming, while she stayed behind due to a special work project. It had been seven long days without so much as a touch from the man who couldn’t keep his hands off her whenever they were alone.

He'd returned late Saturday, slipping into bed quietly to avoid waking her.

It was Sunday morning, and as the preacher’s daughter, she knew she had to be at her best. But sleep had eluded her. The rollers she wore to sleep were uncomfortable, and she never slept well when Terry wasn’t there. She woke up feeling restless, only to turn over and see him.

He was bare-chested, the morning light making his skin glisten. The bedsheets were pushed down to his hips, and the outline of his body was impossible to ignore. Her mouth watered.

When her gaze finally made its way up to his face, his eyes were already on her. Terry was always up by six, but some days, he'd stay in bed a little longer just for her.

She kissed her way up his body, starting from his neck and working toward his lips, straddling him.

“Mornin’, baby,” he said, his voice deep and gravelly, making her heart flutter. His green eyes framed by naturally long lashes—lashes she spent a hundred dollars a month trying to replicate—fixed on hers. He pulled her down for a tight hug, his lips finding her jaw. She sighed, feeling his strength encase her. 

“What time did you get in? I missed you,” she admitted, feeling a little foolish. She was a grown woman, had spent most of her adult life without him, but sometimes it felt like she couldn’t breathe without him there.

His facial hair, grown in during the week they’d been apart, tickled her skin as he nuzzled into her neck—a silent way of saying, "I missed you too."

They lay there for a few moments before he stirred. One arm wrapped around her back, the other reaching for his phone on the nightstand. “We gotta get up. It’s almost eight.”

She groaned. “It’s too early.”

She was up before sunrise on workdays, but weekends were different.

“Come on, we have to.” He patted her back gently.

“Excuse you…” She sat up, crossing her arms with her legs still draped over his hips. “You just got back and you're bossing me around. You haven’t even kissed me yet.”

He wouldn’t admit it, but he loved how spoiled she could act sometimes. She knew he’d give her the world if she asked, and it boosted his ego to know she trusted him that much—knew, deep down, he would always protect and care for her.

“Oh, you think you’re running the show now?” he teased, raising a brow. She bit her lip, debating how to respond. Terry Richmond wasn’t the type of man to play petty games with, but she liked to do it every now and then, just to keep things interesting.

“Duh. I thought you knew.”

He let out a deep laugh from his core, right in her face. She huffed and tried to move away from his lap, but in an instant, he had rolled them over, pinning her beneath him as they both giggled.

“Who gave you command?”

His hand wrapped gently around her neck, and the playful moment turned serious. He positioned himself between her legs, morning wood pressed against her thigh, and her face flushed.

“You did.” She swallowed hard, remembering the last time they were in this position—his hand firm around her throat as he took control. The unspoken command hung in the air: tell me what I want to hear, and I’ll give you what you want.

He raised an eyebrow, “Me?”

“Yeah,” She smirked, “You disappeared so I had to improvise.” Her voice softened, teasing but with a warmth that hinted she missed him. “Maybe don’t leave me hanging next time, huh?”

He shook his head with a chuckle, then his lips crushed against hers, the kiss demanding, until her thoughts were consumed by him and only him. Her back arched, hips shifting as she sought him out. His hand found her neck again as he slowly pulled away, as if it pained him to stop.

“We gotta get up. I let you miss another Sunday, and your dad will never let me live it down.”

His sudden shift in tone made her scowl, especially as he tapped her legs to free himself from her grip. “Why are you talking about my father right now?”

“Get up.” His tone tolerated no dissent, and she reluctantly allowed him to pull her to her feet.

She followed him into the guest bathroom, where he'd gone to shower in peace. She dragged her soapy hands down his back, teasing him, offering to help him dry off but using it as an excuse to grope him instead. He wouldn’t give in. She spent the rest of the morning testing his resolve, brushing against him as he scrambled their eggs, and bending at the waist to give him a peek under her slip after "accidentally" dropping the house keys.

By the time they reached the church parking lot, a frown lingered on her made-up face, fading only as they approached the church doors, where she transformed into the picture-perfect preacher’s daughter.

Smiling, saying all the right things, all the while thinking about Terry. It wasn’t right, thinking these things in church, but she couldn’t help it. She prayed for forgiveness but couldn’t stop herself from reminiscing about him—the way he drove her to the brink of madness, how good he always made her feel. 

The singing of hymns and the preaching faded into the background as she focused on the analog clock hanging above the pulpit. Church seemed to drag on even longer than usual, as if the universe were conspiring with Terry to tease her to death. He sat there, as tempting as the devil, his button-up shirt clinging to his muscular arms and thick thighs defined even in slacks.

By the time they reached the car, she felt like she was on the verge of catching fire. She’d waved hurriedly at her parents before dragging Terry out the church doors, complaining about the traffic. She was sure her mom would call her and fuss about it later, but she’d deal with that when the time came. He didn’t say a word until they were driving down the main road, his eyes glancing over at her.

“You’ve been acting wild all day. You that desperate for my dick?”

“What?” 

“You heard me. You want it that bad?” He repeated himself, a sly smirk playing on his lips. Her mouth hung open as she processed his words. In the bedroom, he was her Daddy—dominant, demanding, intense. A bit of a bedroom bully, but never harsh. She was his princess, and he treated her like one. Terry didn’t usually talk to her like this, but she couldn’t deny the heat that pooled between her legs at his words.

She wished she had something clever to say, but the truth was that her desire for him ran deeper than he could ever realize. “I can’t help it,” she admitted, leaning over the center console to caress his leg. She gave him those Bambi eyes and spoke softly. “I need you, baby.” 

“I get it. I've been counting down the days too,” He promised. His voice was steady and calm—too calm—while she felt like she was on the edge. He had unbuttoned the top of his shirt when they got in the car, and all she could think about was undoing the rest. The way the water had cascaded down his chest this morning was sinful. Her thighs clenched together subconsciously. 

“I need more than just talk right now,” She grumbled, remembering how he had rejected her earlier that morning. She’d wanted him so badly that she dropped to her knees, promising to make it worth his while. But he remained composed, pulling her back up for a soft kiss on the corners of her mouth. “Later,” he had promised.

All week, she had struggled to concentrate at work, her thoughts consumed with him. And now that he was back, he didn’t seem in any hurry to change that. He should have woken her up last night, church be damned— The same way he did any other night he wanted to be inside her. Her hand inched up to his thigh and squeezed.

When her fingertips grazed his dick, he gently grabbed her hand and lifted it from his lap. “Relax,” he warned, his voice adopting that stern tone she usually loved. But now, it just grated on her nerves. Terry Richmond—who was always so eager—was telling her to relax about sex. How many mornings had he insisted on having her before he left for work? How many days had he stalked her around the house, grabbing her any way he wanted? How many nights had he promised to “do all the work” if she just let him inside?  

She kissed her teeth and crossed her arms over her chest, glaring out at the cars ahead. He was full of it.

“What’s this? You got an attitude now?”

She snapped before she could stop herself. “What do you think, Terry?” Aggravation burned in her chest, and his eyes widened at her tone. Apparently, his week away had been too long—she had lost her damn mind. 

“Any other time, you can’t get enough of me, and now you’re acting like I’ve got the cooties. What’s going on with you?”

“What are you trying to get at?” he asked, sounding annoyed, and it was clear on his face. She stared back at him as his gaze flicked between her and the road, as if her eyes could uncover whether he had been faithful. She trusted Terry, but she already knew Mike’s wild ass had plenty of strippers and trouble around. 

What else was she supposed to think? Terry was only a man after all. 

“For real?” he replied, meeting her suspicious gaze. “You think I’d do you like that?” 

Her stomach flipped. In her heart, she felt one thing, but her head was a different monster altogether. She had a tendency to overthink and jump to conclusions. Terry usually made her feel so secure that it wasn’t an issue. “So, just because I’m not moving fast enough for you, I must be cheating, huh?” He looked at her like a wounded lion.

“I don’t know, Terry,” she shifted her gaze away from him, knowing she had overreacted. “I’m just frustrated, okay?” The silence that fell between them felt heavy. She knew she had made a mistake. “I’m sorry,” she added, her voice softening. “I know you’re not like that; I was just... I don’t know.”

Just like Muni Long, she wished for a Time Machine.

The sting of her accusation settled in his gut. He couldn’t begin to understand why she would doubt him after everything they’d been through.

Terry remained silent for the rest of the ride. Not even when he parked the car, opened her passenger door, and unlocked the house did he say a word. He let her in first, just like always, but the usual kisses to her neck were absent. Instead, he slipped off to the guest room to change while she undressed in their shared bedroom, feeling like a brat. The pretty polka dot dress and brand new stockings he should have been removing only added to her sadness.

She removed her makeup in a somber mood, then finally made her way to the living room when she could no longer put it off. Terry had changed into a T-shirt and shorts, sprawled across the couch while fiddling with the remote, flipping through channels she knew he wasn’t interested in at all.

She settled onto his lap, her thighs gripping him to keep him close. He avoided her gaze until she cupped his face in her hands, gently forcing him to meet her eyes. There was a storm brewing, one that she had caused. “Don’t be like that,” she pleaded.

She rested her head against his broad chest, cuddling into the warmth beneath her. With her chin snuggled comfortably, she gazed up into his eyes. “I’m sorry. I was wrong– so wrong. I know who you are and that you wouldn’t hurt me. Please forgive me. I was trippin’.”

He took a deep breath and ran a hand across his low fade, trying to process his emotions. “You really scared me with that.” He grabbed her hand and held it tightly. “I need you to understand that it’s not easy for me to shake off what you said. I love you, but I need to know you trust me.”

“I do. I promise I do, baby. I just lost my head for a minute there. You mean everything to me.”

“Okay,” he conceded after a minute, “Just keep your head in the game, alright? Stick with me. We’re good.” Terry’s habit of framing their relationship in sports terms never failed to make her smile.

"You got it, coach," she teased, then added playfully, "Oh wait—Sir, yes sir," as she offered a mock salute.

“You always know just how to push my buttons, don’t you?”, he asked. “That’s alright, though, because you’re still under my command, recruit.” He delivered a series of sharp smacks to her behind without warning. Riley gasped as she felt the sting of each slap. 

"Terry, stop," she protested, trying to push him away, but he was unyielding.

“Nah, baby,” he whispered against her lips, staring her directly in the eyes, “You got a little too bold and need a reminder of who’s running things.”

Her stomach flipped as she realized what was happening. She had been getting more mouthy as the day went on, testing how far she could go. Now it was time for Terry to put her in her place, and while that was always fun, she knew he wouldn’t go easy on her.

As if reading her mind, Terry pulled back slightly, his gaze fierce and focused. "You know I love you, baby," he uttered softly. “But sometimes, a firm hand is needed to keep us in line.”

She nodded, a whirlwind of emotions swirling inside her. A spanking hadn’t been a part of her agenda for the day. All she wanted was to come home, have him in their bed,�� and make up for lost time, then pretend to watch TV for a little before she rode him to oblivion. But she had ruined that by being impatient. She knew that Terry was right – she had crossed a line today, and this was exactly what she needed.

Taking a deep breath, she eased into him, allowing him to maneuver her over his lap as he repositioned them on the couch. The muted sounds of the TV faded into the background as they got comfortable, her shorts rustling quietly as he pulled them down to her ankles. 

“I get that you’re used to having things your way, but that ain't how it works with me,” Terry advised, palming her ass cheeks in each hand. He took his time jiggling the fat there before his hand came down on one side and then the other. Terry was heavy handed, making sure she felt him deep in her soul. She hissed, already reaching back to cover her bottom. 

"Gimme your hands," he ordered, locking both of them in one of his own.

Terry started spanking her in earnest, and Riley felt every bit of it— the sharp sting as his hand met her skin, the heat radiating across her backside, and the firm pressure of his arms keeping her steady. 

“I’m so sorry,” She whined, squirming in his lap. “I didn't mean it!” He took a breath, grabbed her chin, and locked his gaze on her to make sure she heard him loud and clear. “I know you didn’t plan for this, but you still deserve this punishment. You gotta do better, ma.”

He went back to smacking her ass all wild, hitting it from every possible angle. “Fuck!” She cursed, getting lost in the pain and the pleasure. If the folks at church knew she had a mouth like this, she'd be too embarrassed to show her face again. With each smack, her thoughts become increasingly scrambled, swirling in a delicious haze. It didn’t help that Terry was talking her through it the entire time. 

“Remember I’m doing this because I love you.”

“You need to find some middle ground before you take things to the next level. You understand me?”

“Stay exactly like that, don’t move.”

“I know it hurts. It’s supposed to.”

“Here, grab this pillow.”

She moaned and groaned her protests but Terry was too strong and she had earned this ass whooping. She knew there was nothing left to do but surrender. Terry had her and she could let go of all her worries and concerns. She just needed to ride it out. 

As the spanking continued, Riley’s breathing grew more ragged until she was breathless. Tears welled up in the corners of her eyes. She apologized fervently each time his hand came down on her ass, sobbing when he gave her a small reprieve, rubbing her lower back gently. “You’re okay. We’re almost done. Are you really as sorry as you’re claiming?”

“Yes, Daddy,” She whimpered, already imagining how sore she’d be the next day, hobbling into her good government job with a bruised backside. She had bit off way more than she could chew and now needed his mercy.

“Repeat after me,” Terry commanded, his tone leaving room for argument. “Say ‘I’ll be a good girl and listen.’” She immediately complied, her voice shaky but sincere as she echoed his words, fully embracing the promise behind them. “I understand that the next time I do it, Daddy is going to spank my disobedient ass all over again..” She repeated his words like a well-trained parrot, and at the moment, it was all she could manage.

She felt lightheaded by the time Terry finished spanking her, and she couldn’t recall the last thing he’d said. She had hit her breaking point.  

She laid there for several minutes, completely spaced out, and focused only on catching her breath. Terry massaged her scalp with his fingertips as they both came down from the natural high of their chemistry. Eventually, Terry lifted her up to meet his gaze, being mindful not to agitate her already bruised bottom.

“You good?” 

Her head was still reeling. She wanted to shrink into a little ball, but she also wanted to live in his skin. How could she express that to him without sounding unhinged? Terry massaged her back in gentle, calming circles until he sensed her start to unravel. She eventually nodded slowly, acknowledging that yes, she was okay— physically at least, even if her emotions were still in a disarray. 

“I’ll do better,” she promised, her voice barely above a whisper, thick with exhaustion.

"That’s my good girl," he said, gently wiping away tears from her cheekbone as his expression softened. Despite what she might think, he didn’t get as much satisfaction from spanking her as she believed. It was just something he had to do.

“Come on, pretty. I’ll fill the tub up for you, and then we can order brunch from your favorite spot.”

Forgive me for any mistakes. I had to post this before I lost my nerve, lol. This started as something completely different but I'm happy with how it turned out. Let me know what you think! For more Terry Richmond fics by other amazing young ladies, please check out my Terry Richmond fic rec tag.

Part 2

[kumkaniudaku]

Just For You

Summary: Terry and Patrice give each other lasting nicknames.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: None

"Terrence and Patrice, you're married. Any objections?" 

None from Terry. A few from Patrice, but what was new? She always had objections. Ms. Cole answered each of her star pupil's questions in extreme detail before sending the pair home as a fictional married couple exploring the semester's section on personal finance. 

It was Terry's idea for them to work together on the weekend at his house, citing weekday football practices as too much of a hindrance to after-school instructional time. His sophomore year came with another growth spurt to a towering 6'1", and he couldn't let the new length or extra muscle go to waste. The fight for starting receiver had only just begun. 

Patrice hated falling behind. The thought of letting days pass without tracking toward their project's completion ate away at her. She allowed Terry to have his way, but under one condition: they'd work all morning on Saturday to knock things out in one day.

He scrunched his face and ran a hand over his haircut. "Patrice, that's a lot. We can't stretch it to two days?" He thought again for a better solution when she started to open her mouth with a rebuttal. "What if we talked on the phone and finished up Sunday night! Then you only have to leave home once!" 

"Take it or leave it, Terrence. One day or a little bit every day after your practice." 

With Saturday morning SportsCenter's top five clips playing on the television while they sat beside each other, their feet and legs jutting out from beneath his mother's coffee table, it was clear he'd taken the offer with a few concessions. Highlights stayed on during homework. 

Patrice sat still and quiet while she watched Terry twirl a pencil between his fingers and squint at the instructions on their project syllabus. Late morning sunlight streaming through the living room window brought out the honey color in his eyes, her favorite part of the blue-green pieces of art she pretended not to sneak glances at when they spent time together. His brows furrowed to create little ripples at the center of his forehead. Three. She always counted them when he made his focused face. 

If anyone didn't know him, he'd look like an intimidating man at least five years his senior. But Patrice knew Terry was mostly a gentle giant. He spoke softly as if the sound of his own voice was scary, opened doors, laughed on occasion, and remained polite day to day. Compared to the other boys in his grade, Terry was a saint—a saint slowly creeping his way into Patrice's day-to-day thoughts. 

Terry's shoulder brushed against Patrice's as he shifted on the floor, making her shuffle further away to avoid the goosebumps populating her forearm. Terry glanced over, concern replacing the focus in his eyes. "You okay? Did I hit you?" 

"No, I just didn't wanna be so deep in your space." Partially true. The why was her secret to keep. 

Terry shrugged. "It's cool. You're not bothering me." She never was. If he were honest, Terry wished she would bother him more. Come over more, show up to more games, and stay on the phone a little later when he called under the guise of missing notes from class, knowing the only thing he missed was her voice. He scooched closer to her, leaving a sliver of space between them. "So, I think you're the breadwinner in this scenario. Sixty-thousand a year ain't half bad. You must be a professor or something. Talkin' them students' heads off, I'm sure." 

"Shut up," Patrice laughed as she elbowed his side. "You aren't far behind! Your $45k gets us to a combined $105k. That's more money than I've ever seen." 

Her compliment of his pretend income pulled a closed-mouth smile from Terry. "Yeah, well, how do we spend it? Says here we need to budget our combined monthly income between bills, discretionary spending, and savings." Quick mental math helped him tally their post-tax income. "That's $3,204 bi-weekly. Just under $7000 a month. I think we can handle that." 

"Let's start with housing and work from there?" 

"I'm following your lead." 

One hour of hard work and bickering netted the play couple one outcome they could agree on. Terry thought it'd be best for them to choose a modest three-bedroom dwelling with a low mortgage to fit their housing needs and free up funds for two cars. Though Patrice wanted a bigger backyard for her garden, she relented when her mate pointed out she'd get the better car and a summer vacation if they were wise with their monthly spending. One night out a week, $500 a month in "fun funds," and a strict savings schedule left them more than enough money in their reserve to consider children in their plan. 

Brain fog stemming from a quietly growling belly made Patrice stretch her arms high about her head and whine. "Can we take a break? I'm a little hungry." 

"I can make you something!" Hearing the extra eagerness in his own voice felt like a punch to the throat for Terry. Embarrassment had him scaling back to save face. "It's just a PB&J. You don't want me using the stove. Or you can wait 'til my mom gets home. She usually does crawfish on the weekends."

"Shoot, let's do both! I've never had crawfish before."

Not ever having crawfish was a cardinal sin in Terry's household. If his parents found out Patrice had been living a life without experiencing their family specialty, she'd be forced to camp out until every piece of corn, sausage, potato, and crustacean was consumed. Terry logged the reference in the back of his mind for later use as he made his way into the kitchen. 

While Terry focused on the even spreads of peanut butter and jelly on his mama's "good" bread, Patrice took her time mosying around the large living room to acquaint herself with her surroundings. 

Expensive trinkets and books she'd never read lined the cubby spaces on one side of their large wooden entertainment center. On the other, family photos told the Richmond family's story. At the top, Mr. and Mrs. Richmond posed in formal attire with big smiles to celebrate what Patrice assumed was their wedding day. Another shelf featured photos of twin girls with encased baby booties in the middle. She smiled at their big afro puffs and chocolate-covered faces while they enjoyed dessert at Disney World. Then, she spotted it. Perched on a stack of photo albums, a little boy decked in Spider-Man gear from head to toe stretched himself in the hero's signature squat. But those eyes were unmistakable. Little Terrence was clearly on a mission to save the world. Or his backyard, at the very least. 

In awe of how cute Terry looked as a kid playing make-believe, Patrice reached out to grab the frame for a closer look. That was him, alright. Terry still had the same toothy grin that crinkled his nose at the bridge and made his eyes close from the rise of his cheeks. Ears too big for his body stood out even more than they did ten years later. He may have been smaller in stature and much more upbeat than the brooding teenager in the other room, but after a year of friendship and a little secret pining, she could recognize him anywhere. 

Immersion disarmed Patrice's senses, giving Terry ample space and opportunity to sneak up on her. "That's funny?" His voice cut through the silence, making Patrice jump and turn to catch the sly smile on his face. "That was my fifth birthday. I can't remember why I didn't get a party, but I guess I still had fun that day." 

"It's cute," Patrice complimented. "I didn't know they made masks for little kids with adult-sized heads." 

Payback from her jab tasted perfectly sweet on her tongue, like her Nana's homemade apple pie. Patrice watched Terry roll his eyes and shake his head before pulling the glass photo frame from her hands and placing it back in its rightful spot. 

He pretended to laugh along before kissing his teeth. "Come get this sandwich before I change my mind, girl." 

Terry would never change his mind, no matter how hard he tried to pretend or fight back the smile revealing his top row of teeth. Patrice had a free license to pick with him, and, on occasion, he'd join in to further solidify their friendship. 

Lighthearted rounds of the dozens meandered into winding conversions dominated by Patrice's favorite secret chatterbox. He ran through team drama a mile a minute, only taking breaks to chew and ask her intentions for the remaining pretzels on her plate. She granted him permission to clean up her portion and his if it meant he'd keep talking. 

"So, you like orange?" His abrupt change in subject turned Patrice's passive listening into active confusion. He pointed at the scrunchie on her wrist to clarify. "The color, I mean. I noticed you wear it all the time. I was just wondering if it's your favorite." 

Patrice fiddled with the ponytail holder, looking for anything to keep her from making eye contact with Terry. Knowing she was being watched excited and terrified her with equal intensity. "Um, yeah. It is." 

"How come?" 

"I don't know, really. I think because of how the sky turns orange when the sun's going down in the summertime. That's always been pretty to me." Terry committed the information to memory with a quick head nod, letting awkward silence scream into Patrice's ear until she forced out a follow-up question. "What about you? What's your favorite color?" 

Terry thought for a moment. "Blue, mostly. But like Carolina blue. If you get too dark, it's like the Patriots, and I hate the Patriots." 

"Dang. Soooo, no tickets to see Tom Brady for our fun money, huh?" 

"Well, I ain't say all that!" 

Stomach-busting laughter derailed all thoughts of returning to the second half of their assignment. Instead, they chose to take a nose dive into each other's likes, dislikes, and anything in between. Terry had to know Patrice's birthday for…research purposes. 

She scribbled the date on his mother's wall calendar. "April 23rd, remember? Shakespeare's birthday!" 

Fitting. Terry stored the date away in the section of his brain reserved for important things like stats and Lil Wayne lyrics for good this time. 

"What's your favorite food?" 

"My maman's étoufée," Terry answered, whistling from the memory of last Thanksgiving. "I can't wait to go visit next month!" 

How Patrice wished to visit with him and experience even the smallest taste of the dish, brightening his smile more than she'd ever seen before. 

Back and forth they went while time morphed into more of an abstract concept than a rule governing the physical world. Terry's favorite film? Remember the Titans. An obvious answer for obvious reasons, but Patrice loved to hear his explanation anyway. Patrice's plans for her future career? A teacher, high school English more specifically. And, if she found the time, she'd get her PhD and teach other teachers how to teach one day. Her commitment to learning and school was admittedly odd to Terry, but still, he found her passion for it magnetic. 

In their own world, Patrice and Terry were free to be themselves in every imperfect way. Nothing was too nerdy or too weird to discuss. And, if it got close, they knew to keep each other's secrets. 

Gathering plates for cleanup, Terry rattled off his umpteenth question. "What's your middle name? Wait! Can I guess?" Patrice smiled and pushed for him to take his best shot. "You look like a Nicole." 

"No way! How'd you guess that?" 

"Every Black girl's middle name is Nicole. Or Marie. It was a 50/50 chance." 

"It was a 50/50 chance," Patrice mocked before kissing her teeth. "What's yours? Michael?" 

Terry smirked at her attempt to get him back. "Nope. It's James. Me and my dad have the same one." 

"I guess that's kinda cool." Curiosity turning the wheels in Patrice's head robbed her of seeing Terry trying to hide his smile and reddening ears from her view. "Do people ever call you TJ, or is it always Terrence or Terry?" 

Hardly anyone called him Terrence. His full first name was his mother's go-to when he was in trouble. In school, teachers faithfully called him what existed on the roll sheet. But, those closest to his heart knew him as Terry and nothing else. The divide between Terrence and Terry was his way of telling friends from foes. TJ, though, was new and interesting.

Thinking for a couple of seconds yielded no results. "Nah, I don't think so. You can have dibs if I give you one." 

Decisions decisions. Alternate names gifted by little boys never went well for Patrice. Four Eyes, Girl Urkel, and Stilts still haunted her well past elementary and middle school. The potential fallout from another botched nicknaming debacle wouldn't deter her from having something special between them.

"Fine," Patrice relented, grumbling enough to pull a laugh from Terry. "But nothing about my physical appearance. Or food-related. Or downright mean. Or Pat. I hate Pat." 

Her heavy southern twang exaggerated all of her demands, eliciting a laugh from Terry as he shook his head. "You know, usually, people don't get that much say in their nicknames. It's kinda the whole point." 

"Yeah, well, this ain't one of them time, so tread lightly." 

Terry lifted his hands in surrender, not wanting to squander his opportunity to deepen their connections. If rules existed around what he could and could not call her, so be it. "What about…P," he prosed after a few seconds. "Short and simple." 

"And unfortunately already taken by my mama. Try again." 

"Patty? Like LaBelle. Y'all both kinda mean but in a cool, old lady way." 

Patrice's annoyed eye roll sharply contrasted with Terry's impish grin. Payback was officially his again. 

"Terry, I swear! Be serious!" 

Relenting, he tossed out another option. "Okay, okay," he laughed. "For real this time. How does Treece sound? Just the second part of your name." Terry watched her mull over the idea, his smile growing when she offered no immediate rebuttal. He nudged her shoulder and smiled when she forced a sour expression. "Nah, you like it! Treece! Treecey! Big Treece!" 

Listening to Terry rattle off variations of her newly minted nickname, the sound from his lips sounding like her mother asking who wants a second helping of ice cream or Usher singing to her and her alone through her radio's speakers. 

"You know we sound like twins now, right? TJ and Treece?" 

"That's what we should name the kids." 

Missing context caused an invisible record to scratch, forcing Terry to quickly correct himself. Kids? They'd just reached good friend status. Patrice opened her mouth to question Terry, but he beat her to the punch with an explanation. 

He emphatically waved his hands in front of him, trying to sweep the misstep into the ether. "For the project! I meant kids for the project!" 

"Right!" The project. Duh. Patrice tried to recover cooly from what she was sure looked like utter panic with a dash of hopefulness on her face. "The kids from the project. Which –" 

"We should get back to. It's gettin' late. Unless you stayin' for crawfish tonight?" 

Dancing eyebrows and an irresistible grin slowly turned a firm no into a maybe before Patrice could stop her lips from moving. 

She sighed, giving in to the barely there push of peer pressure. "I'll call and ask my mom," she grumbled. "Is the phone in the living room, TJ?" 

"By the couch, Treece." 

Special names reserved for private use added another layer to a friendship blossoming by the day. Terry stood in the kitchen for a second longer to try out Patrice's new moniker alone, flexing different inflections and how it sounded next to his. Treece and Terry. Terry and Treece. Treece Ellis. Treece Richmond.

The last one earned a few repeats until Patrice's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. 

"No luck on crawfish, TJ! I've got to leave to babysit my brother tonight!" she hollered from the other room. “Come on so we can finish! We gotta get one of these kids on paper and budget for their Spider-Man birthday party!" 

Terry chuckled and shook his head. She'd never let him live that down. "Alright. I'm coming. You're a real demanding wife, you know that?" he shouted back with a smile.

Treece Richmond. He could get used to that one.

—————-

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[uzumaki-rebellion]

Brat by Uzumaki Rebellion

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black Female OC

Warning(s): 18+, Explicit Sex, Spanking, Choking, Dom!Terry Richmond, BDE, Bisexual Female Partner, Compersion Fetish, BDSM Play, Urophilia/Watersports.

Summary: Sasha is a brat. On purpose. Now Terry is mad. Big mad.

Word Count: 6.7K

"I'm still, I'm still wet here tonight

So I will make you cum through the night

Will you touch me? Will you go deep in me?

I will in the sheets

I will, I will, I-I-I will"

Teyana Taylor – "WTP"

The cops were called to his home

Terry worked overnight duty on base, and his desk phone rang at ten-twenty. His neighbor Roderick, a fellow marine, hit him up with news that a noise complaint about his apartment brought out the local police. It was the second one that month.

"Your girlfriend has a bunch of women in your place again…the music is blasting and the cops are talking to her right now."

Terry rubbed his forehead. His jawline tightened. Sasha knew better than to have a bunch of people in his place when he wasn't there without letting him know about it ahead of time. He'd recently given her keys to his apartment six months ago as a reward for being a good girl. Here she was, fucking up the privilege already.

You see, Sasha is a brat.

On purpose.

It's a quality that titillates Terry, and yet it frustrates him, too. Sasha can't help it. Her nature is to be desirable, a supreme fuck, and well…a rule breaker.

Terry met Sasha at a wedding in Bayagoula Parrish, Louisiana. Both were part of the wedding party, he as a groomsman and she as a bridesmaid. He wore his military dress blues to match the groom. Sasha's beauty angered the bride who felt she eclipsed all the other women in the wedding party. He appreciated it because they'd been paired with different people to walk down the aisle, and he had the opportunity to watch her stroll in after him. Sasha displayed her shapely figure, which could be quite distracting. Her legs were fantastic, especially in heels and a high slit dress. She was top heavy too, and the off-the-shoulder dress made every attracted eye dart back and forth between thigh meat and the big juicy melons bouncing as she approached the altar. The tangerine orange of her dress enhanced the warm cognac color of her skin. He couldn't pull his eyes away from her. She was pure fap material for guys who couldn't pull her, which happened to be many at the reception. Samuel, who partnered walking down the aisle with her, strutted around thinking he was the shit with her displayed on his arm. But it was a wrap once Sasha lined her gaze with Terry's at the altar. Fireworks.

The two of them together oozed sex appeal and thoughts of sex. They complimented each other's energy. He had an assertive, domineering personality shaped by his years in the marines. Equal parts controlling and nurturing, he could overwhelm the ladies within seconds of meeting them. He already had the women there swooning over his voice. A gaze from his alluring eyes in any direction set hearts fluttering. Even the older women tee-heed with girlish enthusiasm interacting with him. He knew his power to attract and weaponized it as needed.

Sasha was a natural pleaser. Not to be mixed up with an overall people-pleaser, or a tiresome PickMe, her desire was to satisfy her lover, and they in turn would naturally gift her the moon, with a necklace of stars to match. She came off bubbly, warm, and endearing…the type of woman receptive to romance from an Alpha type. Male or female. He sensed she needed a little bit of spoiling with firm discipline to keep her in check. Pleasure and punishment. A heady combination he wanted to offer.

One bridesmaid joked about Terry and Sasha looking like human versions of Scar and Nala from The Lion King. His devilish green eyes and her equally cat-like eye shape gave testament to it. Their instant chemistry was like an electric current running through a socket. Everyone around them sensed the incredible magnetism they carried in proximity, like static electricity zapping them.

She sat down at the same table and immediately started flirting with Terry. After a few drinks, a deeper connection blossomed. Her voice turned him on. Everything sounded erotic the way she enunciated certain words, as if she wanted to make love to his ears. They chatted each other up, lightly touching hands and arms, whispering in each other's ears. Her breasts kept brushing against his arm, turning him on further as he fantasized about sucking on them with her sexy legs thrown over his shoulders. She brought out a feral competition in a lot of the men who interacted with her on the dance floor. What impressed him the most was how she complimented women there constantly, hyping them on their clothes and make-up. She was a girl's girl and danced with some who men passed over by streaking to the dance floor because the DJ was excellent. Sasha rallied a group of women into doing the YaYa, a Creole line-dance making a resurgence in those parts because of Beyonce's Cowboy Carter album.

He didn't want to get sweaty in his military uniform, but Terry couldn't resist a good, soulful line dance with a bunch of Black people. Bayagoula had some slim pickings for Black women since it was a majority white town, but since the bride was Black, Terry and a host of other Black soldiers hoped she had enough Black female friends coming to town available for some good times. He silently thanked the wedding planner for placing Sasha next to him. They shared a slow dance, and he loved having her breasts resting against his chest.

As the evening continued, they cozied up even more.

Sasha kissed him first right at the table. The lights in the venue had lowered for after-dinner partying, so Terry took advantage, purposely grazing his fingers against her right breast where he'd thrown his arm around her shoulder. Their table was empty and the dance floor was full tilt boogie. Nibbling on her earlobe, he whispered filthy things he wanted to do to her. He lowered his hand and slipped them up the slit in her dress, sliding her panties aside, fingering her with shallow thrusts. She let him finger fuck her, begging for him to go deeper.

Sasha started playing with Terry's dick under the tablecloth. Everyone else was too drunk and too occupied with dancing. No one paid attention to them. She got his dick so stiff that he dragged her to the nearest restroom and fucked her. Lifted her onto the sink, hiked up her dress, unfastened the upper part of her dress and released tits he now adored. It didn't take long for him to spill into the condom. Their foreplay at the table had them rearing to go.

His dick was too big and heavy to fit all the way inside her pussy. The last two inches, visible at the root, moved up and down as he ejaculated. He loved how she handled his meat. He packed so much length that her pussy squirted from the pressure of being stretched to capacity. She peed on him, too. He pinched her big nipples, obsessing over them already.

"I'm taking you home with me," he said.

His dick kept pulsing cum, and he shivered as the last orgasmic surge pushed through his dick. Even his nut sack jumped at the pleasure of release. Sasha gave off soft babygirl energy, and he wanted a woman like that. He'd only known her for five hours and already claimed her as his.

"Okay," she said, with her legs draped over his arms.

Terry turned her around and lifted her breasts. He watched his reflection in the mirror bounce them in his hands, getting off on the weight and size. His dick finally started going down, and Sasha peeled the condom off. He turned to urinate in the toilet and she held his dick for him, guiding the stream into the bowl.

"You like watching me do that?"

"Yes, Daddy."

"Hmmm, into watersports?"

Her sloe eyes twinkled with delight.

"I used to watch my brother's college friends pee in our backyard when they were drunk. The sight of dicks out in the open like that…squirting everywhere…yummy. I get wet just thinking about it."

"What if I pissed on you? Would you like that?"

"Yes, Daddy…I would play with my pussy while you did it."

He grinned. She already understood his expectations. He whispered in her ear that he wanted a good girl, an obedient one, and she knew exactly what he meant. A submissive that catered to her man.

She shook his dick and used one of the soft paper towels to clean his tip. Then she dropped to her knees and sucked him off for a final cleaning. He wanted to bust a load on her face, but they'd been in the restroom long enough.

He scooped her up and drove back to his apartment.

They began a committed relationship soon after.

Terry dominated her life. Told her what to wear, what to cook for them when he worked hard all day supporting them both. Sasha flitted from part-time job to job like a bee gathering pollen whenever she was bored, not in a rush to find a career like Terry had done. He was a big bad marine with a jacked body, a tatted sleeve down one arm, and a sculpted face. He liked her being home, and she liked being there spoiled by him. His pay grade and rank allowed him to provide a comfortable life for her.

There were other rules, of course.

The apartment had to be pristine clean and her pussy had to be ready when he came home. He dealt with loud, tense, funky, gritty, and abrasive men all day. His home had to reflect the opposite vibe, and he needed to sink into her softness in the evening.

She greeted him at the door after work, looking dreamy in heels and clothes he liked to see her in, like short skirts and sexy dresses to show off those legs. With a cocktail in hand and deep welcoming tongue kisses, Sasha played her role. He brought home flowers every Friday, and at least once a week he bought her presents. She liked bracelets and expensive perfumes in fancy little bottles. He bought her books on whatever new hyper-fixation she had. One month it was soap-making. Another month it was origami, and he suffered through an apartment full of little flying cranes and odd-shaped butterflies. It made him feel good to bring her something special just to witness the sparkle in her eye and the squeal she let out each time. That was often more arousing than foreplay.

On the weekends, when he had to stay on base or travel out of state for additional work-related training, they agreed that she could have a female lover over for girl time. They'd brought other women into their bedroom on various occasions, and Terry sat next to Sasha as she had sex on the king-sized bed. He never indulged in the other women with her, preferring to watch and jerk off. Some might say he was a cuck, but that wasn't it. He had a compersion fetish. Sasha's happiness at having him as a boyfriend and still indulging in sex with another woman gave him pleasure mentally. It stimulated him, no doubt, to watch his woman go at it with another beautiful woman, but he never did a threesome by sticking his dick in someone else. Sasha was enough woman for him, plus, not every outsider was into the things that he liked to do to her. Like breath play with choking, and of course, the golden showers.

Sasha played the submissive well, pampering herself during the day in preparation for his coming home. Terry gave strong Daddy energy, and it brought out the softness in her. His father raised him to be a stern patriarch and southern gentleman. Women were to be taken care of and the expectation was for them to please their men like sweet southern belles.

Sasha was sweet and one hundred percent southern…but a brat, nonetheless. And brats don't always do what you tell them.

She'd purposely leave crumbs in the kitchen for him to find after work. Or she'd forget to make the bed the way he liked. Sometimes she ordered take out instead of making him the home-cooked meals he expected. That's when Terry would fume and take off his belt, lifting her up and taking her into the bedroom to get spanked until her ass cheeks were a deeper shade. When he finished striking her backside, he'd rub cooling blue gel all over her rump, simultaneously soothing her and chastising her.

"Why do you make me do this to you?" he'd lament. "You know I don't like punishing you. I want to come home and have peace. You're my peace, Sasha."

Those searing green eyes would narrow and his brows stayed furrowed, correcting her behavior.

She loved that shit.

However, on the day he had to leave for a weekend base stay several hours before Roderick called him about the police at his place, Sasha (purposely):

1. Forgot to pick up his dry cleaned dress blues on time the night before when he asked.

2. Tossed his clean clothes in drawers without folding them.

3. And God forbid, mixed his unpaired socks in his underwear drawer.

His jaw grew rigid, and he spoke to her through gritted teeth.

"Didn't we talk about this?" he said with an exasperated tone.

"Who cares? Everything is clean. I'll get your dry cleaning today. Don't have a cow," she said, scrolling through pages of fashion on her tablet, hoping he'd snap.

He always took the bait.

His hand went gently around her throat, and he pushed her against the wall.

"What did I tell you about talking to me like that?"

A dangerous smirk twisted his lips to the side. Sasha pouted.

"It won't kill your clothes to not be perfect. I washed and dried them and put them away. That's good enough. Deal with it."

"You know we have to have order in this home. I tell you this every day, Sasha, an orderly home denotes an orderly mind. Fix it."

"You fix it."

He sighed and glanced over at the clock on the wall. His work day started in thirty minutes. He had to be on base in fifteen or risk being late. That was simply a no-no.

"Go straighten out those drawers," he insisted, with more bass in his voice.

He pushed her toward the dresser and hurriedly went to their walk-in closet to grab and fold his old dress blues. He liked to have them on him in case the upper brass needed him to appear ready at a moment's notice for any occasion. His new uniforms needed cleaning before he would wear them. Sasha strolled past their bureau.

"Sasha, I'm not playing!"

He buttoned up the shirt of his duty uniform. She sashayed toward the bedroom door, switching her hips in her babydoll nightie, big titties bouncing, not having any plans for the day except eating chocolate bon bons and shopping online or doing whatever she wanted at her whim because he wanted her to.

"Sasha!"

She ignored him. He snatched her up, throwing her across his lap on the bed. Yanking her nightie up, he pulled the matching panties down and swatted that ass. He gave an even number of spanks on each cheek, careful to soothe as well as punish so as not to harm her tender skin. She yelped and refused to apologize for back talking, making him more upset…and his dick hard.

He added some harder smacks under the jiggling booty cheeks, and she got the message, jerking on his lap and hissing from the sting of genuine pain settling in. He held her down with one arm and heated that ass up, stopping before she needed their safe word. Her disobedience and disrespect resulted in an unscheduled spanking session today, although they had scheduled sessions for weekdays and weekends.

He refused to use the cooling gel on her. She needed to feel the pain of punishment for at least an hour. He'd give her more after he returned home from work.

Terry looked down at his protruding dick nearly blasting a hole through his work pants. Sasha stared at it too, licking her lips. This was what she wanted. He'd ignored her earlier in bed when she wanted dick at four in the morning. The night before, he'd dragged home exhausted from combat drills. He chose to crash out instead of pleasing her. Her hand rubbed on his muscle-toned thighs and traced lines on his tatted bicep, but he was not in the mood.

She chose to make him late. Just to get back at him. He came harder when he was angry or irritated. Down went his zipper… and her knees. He fished out his dick and stroked hard and fast.

"Selfish little brat," he barked. "Making me fucking late!"

She pulled down her nightie, revealing his weakness, and he stared at her breasts. He moaned out loud when she plucked at her nipples and circled her pretty manicured nails around the edges of her dark areolas, reminding him visually of how big they were, and how much he loved that about her.

Pre-cum spilled out of his deep slit, and she used it as a lubricant to tease around her sizeable nipples that stood out like fat, juicy blueberries. His sack was heavy with cum. Sasha licked her lips. Smacked those big melons together, and he blew his load all over her pretty face. She brushed back her wild, wavy hair and continued shaking her titties for him.

He panted and shot another hot rope across her tongue. She jumped up and placed herself on the bed, spreading open her labia for him to see the wet pink of her dripping pussy.

"Fucking slut!"

His eyes became mere slits of angry jade. He grabbed his cell and called his boss while shaking off his pants. A credible lie fell out of his mouth as he plunged into her. He bought an hour pretending to have a dead battery in his car. Tossing the phone on the bed, he fucked Sasha as deep as she could take unsheathed. He grunted, and she threw her arms across his shoulders, satisfied that she got what she wanted.

Anger guided his thrusts. When he started getting too aggressive, he switched to eating her pussy. That helped calm him down. She was insatiable. He should've paid more attention to that quality about her after the first night he fucked her. Sasha loved his dick and craved it at all hours.

Terry sucked and licked her clit, forcing breathy moans out of his woman. She rocked and rolled her hips, her vulva laid out like a summer nectarine: smooth, juicy and sweet. Sasha soaked his lips and chin. His facial hair became a sticky mess with her excess.

He spooned her on his side and parted her cheeks with his dick alone, sliding in and stretching her properly. Terry fondled a breast and pounded her down until that juicy pussy clenched around him. He kept fucking because he knew she needed more.

"Oh, Daddy! I'm sorry! Don't punish me like this!" she screamed, clutching onto the covers.

She wasn't sorry. She wanted that deep Daddy dick.

Sasha said it like a mantra over and over, "Oh Daddy…I'm sorry! Oh, Daddy…I'm sorry! Oh, Daddy…"

He groaned and hit the side of her walls to really make her feel it, and spurt a geyser of cum, still angry that he was late. But busting a nut that hard was worth it in the end. She gasped, her legs jerking wildly at the intensity.

Rising from the bed, he looked down at his brat. She took her fingers and peeled back her labia, letting him see the big creamy mess he made inside of her.

"Wait until I get home Sunday!" he snapped, lifting his pants from the floor.

She pissed him off.

And he let her.

He grabbed his small work duffle, and the garment bag he stuffed his old uniform in and slapped her thigh.

"Fix those clothes in the drawers," he grumbled.

After he left, she teased him mercilessly with several bathroom selfies of her voluptuous breasts and pancake areolas. Her big nipples stuck out hard, and she knew he would suffer at work seeing them all weekend and unable to touch them. During his lunch break, he went into a restroom stall and recorded himself urinating. Using his pelvic muscles, he made his dick twitch and spill urine on the seat. His penis was still big while flaccid, and moving it as he splashed into the toilet would excite her. He shot off the clip to her and later, during another break in his car, she sent him video clips from her smartphone of herself fingering her wet pussy and sucking on her nipples while she watched his video on her tablet. Sex was their shared passion. Their best form of communication.

"You were mean to me today," she texted afterward.

He jerked off in the car, re-watching her squirt all over herself. His dick was the object of her affection when she watched him piss. To her, it was just as sexy as watching him ejaculate semen. It came from inside of him, therefore it was precious to her.

She sent more photos of herself looking down at the phone with her breasts hanging with her tongue partially sticking out. He fucking loved her, and immediately sent her a sweating face emoji with hearts, and couldn't wait to fuck her like a goddamn wild man.

Back at work, he did some emergency drills and then took his place at the duty station, overseeing lower ranked soldiers.

Roderick's phone call shattered the routine of his evening. He couldn't leave work to deal with her, so he had to suffer the entire weekend.

Sasha didn't know that Roderick notified him of the cops. She kept sending him loving texts. Asked him what he wanted for supper on his return home.

"I picked up your uniform, and I organized the drawers properly, Daddy," she texted.

He ignored it, pretending to be busy.

She never mentioned having a gathering at his place that weekend. Technically, it was their shared residence, but his name was the only one on the lease. That meant any problems that occurred with the cops reflected on him in the complex. It wasn't a rarity to have the police called around there for noise ordinances. It was predominately military living there, so close to the base. Lots of parties occurred. But he'd never had them called on him until Sasha moved in. He didn't want that reputation, and he didn't want to dump her like he did his last girlfriend, who stayed out of pocket with him until he had enough. She was disobedient in other ways, but not enough to bring the authorities his way. His reputation and moral character around town was everything to him. He'd hate to let go of amazing pussy and fat titties. Terry was already thinking of putting a ring on Sasha's finger after only six months of being together. Babygirl was that perfect.

Except for when she acted out in ways he didn't like.

Sunday couldn't come fast enough.

He'd have Monday and Tuesday off. Plenty of time to course correct Sasha.

After showering and shaving on base, he drove to his complex in the early evening without telling her the exact time he was coming back.

He crept up the stairs to his second floor. The onsite apartment manager taped another yellow noise complaint notice to his door. He pulled it down and read the warning while sliding his key in. Stepping inside, the living room lights were off, but the bedroom and hall lights were on. She'd cooked something because the odor of something good still wafted in the apartment. He kicked off his shoes, already upset that she wasn't there to greet him.

Dropping his bags and the warning notice on the couch, he padded to their master bedroom.

Sasha was sucking down another woman's box on his bed.

Jasmine.

Both women were oblivious to him being there.

Terry sat down on the side chair in the room facing the bed and watched them go at it. Sasha had a small vibrator inserted into her vagina that also stimulated her clit. It was a cute little pink toy that hummed along to their sex play. His irritation from the notice simmered in the back of his mind. It took him a few minutes to settle into watching his woman and her side piece. Their moans and soft murmurings lulled him into arousal.

He started playing with his dick, pulled it out all the way along with his balls. Smearing pre-cum all around the bulbous head, he took slow strokes up and down, staying underneath the thick ridge. Sasha's pussy looked so pretty, with the pink toy snug inside of her. Her lover thrashed her head back and forth. He fisted his dick faster, smacking on his balls, wishing her pussy could go all the way down on him.

Jasmine came in Sasha's mouth and his lady love's pussy throbbed with a powerful orgasm. Sasha smacked her lips and moaned as her pussy took the internal vibrations. She glanced over her shoulder.

"Daddy," she sputtered, shocked to see him sitting in the room.

Jasmine lifted on her elbows and grinned.

Terry stood and dragged Sasha by her foot to the end of the bed. He pulled out the small vibrator from her pussy and jammed the tip of his dick against her vulva and nutted all over it. Sasha squealed with delight at the man-handling and Jasmine stared with envy. She longed to suck and fuck him, but that would never happen.

"Come lick up his cum," Sasha said.

She smeared it all over her clit and Jasmine settled between her thighs, lowering her head to lick like a cat lapping up milk.

Terry pulled off the rest of his clothes. Sasha kept her eyes locked on his, ignoring Jasmine licking her way to glory. When most of his semen went down Jasmine's throat, he climbed onto the bed. Jasmine scooted over, giving his large body precedence. His dick bobbed and Sasha whimpered in expectation.

"So glad you're home," Sasha said.

Terry carefully placed his thumb and fingers on the sides of her neck. She relaxed under him.

"Jasmine, I think it's time for you to go home," he said.

Sasha blinked twice and her eyes darted over to Jasmine, disappointed that he didn't want their favorite voyeur staying for their lovemaking.

"Now, Jasmine."

Jasmine quickly left the room. They heard her scramble into her clothes and leave the apartment.

"What's wrong?"

He liked the hesitant tone in her voice. It threw her off.

"Do you enjoy living here with me, Sasha?"

She tried to sit up. He held her down by the throat. Still gentle, but gripped tight enough to let her know she wasn't getting up. Pushing his tip into her, she sucked in a breath and he squeezed the sides of her neck, careful to count out the seconds she could handle before easing the pressure. The opening of her pussy throbbed around him. He slowly pushed in, each inch parting her slippery walls. Jasmine made Sasha frothy and wide open for him. He stopped and squeezed her neck again, giving shallow thrusts and counting to her limit before releasing the controlled grip.

"Can we keep going? Do you need a break?"

"No Daddy, I can take it a little more. I'll tap you when to stop."

He pushed in to her limit, thick and heavy. Her pussy lips looked like a swollen vise around his girth, with the last of his inches unable to go in. Each time he pushed forward or pulled back, she gripped him with her walls, giving him the friction he dreamed about all weekend waiting to come home.

He began fucking her slowly, his hand clamped on her neck.

"Ready?"

She nodded and he pressed his fingers in again with gentle pressure, heightening her pleasure. Her eyes went glassy with lust. Although he choked her with their breath play, her pussy choked his dick and he released her neck to rock his hips into her with a steady rhythm.

"You feel so fucking good…taking care of Daddy's dick…"

He started kissing her, thrusting his tongue in her mouth, letting hers slide against his until the erotic sensation of their lips feeling raw and sensitive to the connection overtook him. Kissing her was life itself. He pulled back from her, still stretching her pussy, but not pumping into her.

"Roderick called me about the cops being here again. There was a warning notice on the door. What do you have to say about that?"

Her eyes widened, and she bit her bottom lip.

"How come you didn't tell me before I left about having people over here?"

"It was impromptu. A few friends, and then…a few more friends of friends…it was a wine and cheese thing and then…the cops showed up."

Terry pulled all the way out of her and left the bed.

"Do we have to talk about this now? Can we finish this and talk later?"

She breathed heavily, upset that his dick wasn't plowing her.

"What do you think will happen if I get another notice?"

She pressed her lips together for a second.

"It won't happen again. I promise."

"You said that last time two weeks ago."

"You won't have to worry. If I want to have a gathering again, I'll do it at Jasmine's. Please, Terry, don't be upset."

"What do I like more than anything at home?"

His hard dick pointed toward her and Sasha's eyes kept losing track of his face by focusing on his erection she wanted back in her guts.

"Peace and calm."

"My neighbor shouldn't be calling me about you. That means it disturbed him, too, and probably a lot of other people. If I get a third notice, the manager will break my lease. You know what that means? He can ask me to move. I picked this complex because it's close to my job. The job that takes care of you, and allows you to be my good girl. You've put our housing in jeopardy. Before I left for work, you were acting out and I didn't have time to really put you in your place. I've been super busy this past month and I think I've been letting you get away with too much. But I'm going to get back to proper discipline. No physical contact at all."

Her mouth dropped open.

"What?" she said.

"Spanking won't do this time. You don't get to have me until I think you get your behavior together."

He walked to his side of the bureau and pulled out lounging pants and a t-shirt. He strolled into the bathroom. She followed with panic in her eyes. He stretched his back and stood in front of the toilet. She reached for his dick to help him urinate, but he slapped her hand away.

"No," he said. "You don't even get to watch."

He arched an angry eyebrow, and she pouted. He ignored her breasts and the fat pussy he'd just been inside of that enticed him to cave.

"Out!"

She scuttled away like a little crab who sensed danger on sand.

He relieved himself and changed into his house clothes.

"I would like my dinner in half an hour," he called out.

He went into the spare bedroom where he set up a mini-gym and desktop computer. He checked sports updates before opening a porn app. His balls ached wanting to cum inside Sasha, but he searched for Black women masturbating and found one using a vibrator with large pussy lips that excited him. Fisting himself, he left the door open so Sasha could hear him and seethe. She slammed the kitchen cabinet doors and let some silverware clatter onto the table to show her anger at not getting his dick. He chuckled.

"Fix that attitude. This is your fault for being irresponsible," he called out.

His porn play pal had nice tits and a soft belly. He came into his hand.

"Your dinner is ready," Sasha called out.

He cleaned his hands in the bathroom and walked into the dining area with his mouth salivating. Smothered chicken and rice with French green beans drenched in garlic butter. Homemade and piping hot.

"This looks good, baby. Thank you."

He sat down and she sat across from him. They said grace together, and he stuffed his face, licking his fingers and complimenting her cooking. That perked her up, and yet she still stared at his chest in the tight T-shirt, and admired the sleeve tats.

He punished her for a month.

Sasha stayed on her A-game. Clean house. Clothes put away properly. Bed made so perfect that he could bounce a quarter on it. Uniforms pressed and already placed in his garment bag. She'd gone to the apartment manager and explained the situation with the loud party. Sasha claimed to be his house sitter who didn't know the rules about no loud noises after nine at night. Terry was pretty sure she jiggled her tits and flirted with the male manager. Her legs in some stiletto heels would do the trick easy. The manager actually ignored the second noise warning…and the first, clearing Terry's apartment record.

In bed, she suffered from wanting to curl under or around him, but he stayed on his side with his back to her. She knew better than to seek out Jasmine for respite. It wouldn't be a satisfying, playful romp when she yearned only for her man's affections. She thought it best to accept the dry spell.

Meals…impeccable.

Cocktails at the door…refreshing.

Terry slowly started showing her physical affection with a kiss on the cheek goodbye in the morning. He brought home flowers and gifts again with kisses on the forehead.

He ended her punishment by walking into the bathroom as she smoothed unscented body butter all over her naked body after a shower. She stared at him in the mirror as he stood behind her. He circled his hand around her throat, forcing her to turn her face to the side so he could kiss her.

Sasha moaned into his mouth and broke into tears of joy.

"I won't disappoint you gain," she whispered into his mouth.

"That's all I want from you, baby. Follow my rules."

He continued kissing her, lifting those glorious breasts.

"Will you fuck me now?" she pleaded.

"Of course."

Sasha whimpered at the deep rasp of his morning voice. She leaned forward, and he entered her. Cupping her breasts, he fucked her hard and fast. Her pussy squelched, and she cried, her tears of happiness wetting her face.

"I'm sorry, Daddy…sorry, Daddy…sorry, Daddy…!"

"Pussy so fucking good…I missed these big titties…tight pussy…oh babygirl…fuck Daddy's dick!"

He studied her expression in the mirror.

"Want Daddy to punish this pussy?"

"Yes!"

"Take this dick then…take it…take it babygirl…oh you're taking it deep…oh shit! Oh, shit!"

She still couldn't take him in all the way, but it truly felt like he got in deeper than he'd been before. Her eyes looked up to the ceiling, then rolled back. She squirted everywhere, soaking his dick.

He ejaculated hard enough to make him lift onto his toes. He dropped to his knees to smother his face in her ass and pussy, wanting to feel the back rush of his cum dripping out of her.

His bladder poked at him. He drank an extra glass of water for the occasion.

"Get in the tub, baby," he said.

Sasha yelped with excited anticipation. She climbed into the tub and he handed her a towel that she folded as a knee cushion. Once she was comfortable, he rested his balls on her mouth and she sucked them while playing with her clit and pussy lips.

"Let me hear that wet pussy, Sasha."

She flicked her clit and used her three middle fingers. He stared down at her, reaching for a heavy breast.

"You ready, baby?"

She hummed with his nuts in her mouth.

"You'll be my dirty little slut? Huh, baby?"

"Yes, Daddy…yes, I'll be your dirty little slut…"

"Oh, let me hear that pussy talk, Sasha!"

Sasha whimpered, and her tone was on the edge.

"Daddy's 'bout to give you what you want…get ready…oh…get ready…"

"I'm still your good girl!"

Her tongue slid up and down the underside of his dick, her words warm on his skin.

"Sasha…baby…fuck…dirty little slut letting me do whatever I want!"

Terry took a step back, and Sasha kept pleasuring her pussy. She tilted her head back. A hot stream of urine flew out of him and splashed all over her breasts. Holding his release for a longer period made the sensation of voiding his bladder sweeter. It felt almost as good as an orgasm soaking her.

Sasha's glassy eyes looked far away. She was in her pleasure zone, cumming so hard she couldn't even speak anymore. He drained himself all over her tits, and she slumped back with loud pants.

"Goddamn, that was fucking good!" he shouted to the ceiling.

His aftercare was tender with her.

He used the shower nozzle to rinse her off first before he cleaned her with honeysuckle body wash. Helping her stand up, he rubbed her vulva, thighs and backside, then lathered up her tits. He rinsed her off, then stuck the nozzle back up high and joined her in the shower for a long rinse with hotter water. They kissed as heat steamed around them, his arms cradling her.

"I don't like punishing you like that. It hurt me not to touch you for a month, baby," he hummed in her ear.

She hugged him tight.

Back in their bedroom, they made slow love on the bed. She rode him and he praised her…worshipped her body.

"I love you, Sasha."

"I love you, too, Terry. I want to make you happy."

"I want to make you happy every day. You're really the boss of me. Everything I do is for you."

"I know. I'm yours, Daddy. Let me take care of this dick."

He held his legs wide open, and she rode him backward, perched between his thighs at an angle. He let her slide up and down to the depths she could take and watched her pussy work his length. She slid back to sit on his face, where he slathered her folds with a wide, wet tongue.

They finished with him on top of her, declaring his undying love. He came all over her breasts, and hugged her tight under the covers, playing with her nipples and making plans for their future.

Terry cooked them a late brunch and cleaned the kitchen himself. Sasha washed clothes and looked up a movie for them to go see. All was well until he went to his sock drawer and found unmatched pairs with underwear mixed in.

"Sasha!"

She sauntered in, carrying one of his belts folded in her hand.

"Shall I assume the position?" she teased.

"Once a brat, always a brat," he said.

He chased Sasha around the room until he caught her, snatching the belt away and pushing her down on his lap.

Terry taught her a new lesson.

And, of course, she loved it.

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[writingsbytee]

SEXUAL HEALING

TERRY RICHMOND x BLACK FEM READER

WARNING / TRIGGERS: Reader is DEPRESSED, no thoughts of self harm or un-aliving herself. Babygirl is just having a depressive episode. Depressed themes, Sexual themes, explicit sexual content; dirty talk; soft Dom,

SUMMARY: Reader is depressed and Terry fucks her out of it

WORD COUNT: 3.8k

*Remember you are in charge of your own consumption. 18+ up audiences only; minora please don’t interact!*

 *Also, this is complete fiction. I'm writing about the reader’s depression simply based on my experiences and knowledge of depression. I’m in NO WAY saying that this is what depression is for every individual. This is a safe space. If you or someone you know is struggling with their mental health please reach out to your local crisis center so that they can provide resources. Read with care. Love you guys <3*

This hasn’t been proofread

You groaned as your phone rang yet again, reaching out from under your blankets, your hand blindly slapping your bedside table in search of the device. Checking to see who called, a pained sigh leaves your lips. Terry, your boyfriend called you 4 times in the past hour. Deciding to put him out of his misery you answer the call.

“Hello?”, you say, not even bothering to hide the quiver in your voice.

“Babygirl? What’s wrong?,” Terry asked, his voice sounding frantic. 

A watery sigh leaves your lips, “I’m having a moment Terry, I’ll be ok. It’s just taking a little bit longer for me to come out of it.” 

I hear Terry’s door shut on the other line, “I’m on my way sweet girl, Daddy’s coming”

A muffled sob leaves your mouth at Terry’s words. Always willing to stop whatever he’s doing to help you fight the demons constantly plaguing your mind. Religious therapy and an antidepressant regimen seemed to keep the dark thoughts at bay. Every now and then the debilitating thoughts would come back rendering you useless. Your apartment desperately needed a deep clean as well as your room. Your bed becoming a cesspool, you slept, ate, and cried in the same spot for a little over a week now. 

Rolling onto your back you let out a deep sigh, wanting to be normal and not a basket case full of emotions. 

45 MINUTES LATER

You could hear your front door open and close, signaling that Terry arrived. You heard him set bags down in your kitchen before his light footfalls made his way to your room. He knocked twice before peeking his head in. Terry’s small smile dropped when he saw the state of you and your room. It broke his heart to see you this way.

“Aww honey, I’m here,” Terry said walking toward you. Tear tracks making their way down your face and silent sobs wracked your body.

“I’m so sorry, Terry. I didn’t mean to make you come all the way down here,” You said, covering your face with your hands. Terry gently grabbed your hands, removing them from your face. 

“Sweet girl, never apologize because the air gets a little too heavy for you. That’s why I’m here to take some of the load off,” Terry said with a small smile. Your  gentle green-eyed giant, you  grabbed your glasses, putting them on.

You brought a hand up to his cheek, “You’re too good for this world Terry Richmond. Thank you, for being what I never knew I needed,” you say with all the sincerity you can muster. 

Terry’s eyes shine with unshed tears, “you’ll never have to go through these feelings alone again. Baby when I said I wasn’t going anywhere I meant that. You’re stuck with me sweetheart,” Terry finishes, with a watery smile of his own. He gently raises me into a sitting position.

“Here’s what I want you to do. I brought you your favorite body wash shampoo, conditioner and those wax things you like so much. Go take a shower, wash your hair,pamper yourself. I’m going to get started on your sheets. Okay babygirl?”, he asked. Your eyes practically turned into hearts looking at Terry. 

A small smile formed on your lips as you said a gentle, “Okay, Daddy.”

His smile widened, leaning forward to place a kiss on your forehead. “There’s my girl. Now go get cleaned up, I’ll take care of everything else.” You nodded, rising slowly, and made your way into the bathroom. You didn’t dare glance at yourself in the mirror. Not in the mood for the thoughts to take hold again. Turning on the shower as hot as it would get you stepped in, ready to wash the bad thoughts away. 

Meanwhile, Terry was in your room replacing your dirty sheets, putting them in the wash, and tidying up around your apartment. He hated that he couldn’t save you from your thoughts, but he’d be damned if he didn’t try. He understood that everyone’s trauma affected them differently. His put him in attack mode, while yours forced you to shut down. 

As you washed your hair, you could feel your sense of self slowly returning. You found peace in taking care of yourself. Detangling your curls felt as if you were brushing away all the bad thoughts. Exfoliating was like scrubbing away your impurities, leaving you shiny and new. You don’t know why you couldn’t muster up the strength to take the 15 foot walk to your bathroom. But that’s depression in a nutshell, making the most mundane tasks feel like climbing mount everest. You spent at least an hour in the bathroom, when you emerged you felt like a different person. Your heart warmed at the sight of your room, new sheets adorned your bed with a new hello kitty plushie and pajama set.

Exiting your room, you start searching for your boyfriend. Finding him in your living room playing your favorite vinyl and watering your plants. You will yourself not to cry at Terry’s selflessness, you just run up behind him wrapping his torso in a hug. 

“Hey, baby. Feeling better?”he asks, turning to face you. You place a kiss right above his heart, looking up at him you nod.

“Yeah honey, thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without you” you say, staring up at him adoringly.  

Terry pet your head lovingly, “Let’s hope you never have to find out. Now go make yourself comfortable, I ordered your favorite vietnamese take-out and I’m going to rub your feet until it gets here.”

A warm gooey feeling spreads from your head to your toes. A slow grin taking over your face at your adonis of a boyfriend takes care of your body, mind, and soul. Settling into your sectional, you wiggle your toes playfully urging him closer. Terry chuckles through his nose, making his way toward you. Sliding down beside you , he grabbed both of your legs, placing them on his lap.

“Relax baby, Daddy’s here now and I’m going to take care of you,” Terry said, running his hands up your bare calves. His touch warms your skin instantly. A content sigh leaves your lips as you rest your head on the arm of your sofa.

“Good girl,” Terry said, grabbing your right foot. He began slowly, just caressing your feet adding a tickle here and there pulling small giggles from your lips. Terry started to work on your foot starting slowly on your instep, applying light pressure. Then he moved to your arch applying pressure that was almost painful, causing a gasp to leave your lips.

“You’ve got a knot here, be patient I’ll work it out,” Terry said, digging in deeper. An involuntary moan leaves your lips, the release of the tenson expelling through your lips. Terry smirked, his plan was working. This kept going for a while, Terry expertly massaging your feet, and you moaning like he was massaging somewhere else. You're getting wetter by the minute. 

The doorbell interrupts your massage as a groan leaves your lips, “I was just starting to relax,” you whined.  Terry lets out a chuckle before getting up. Leaning to kiss your forehead, “You’ll have plenty of time to relax later, trust me.” And with that, he heads toward the door to grab the food. Terry doesn’t let you lift a finger while he plates the food for you two. Just advising you to find something “good to watch.” With a smirk, you put on your favorite show at the moment, ‘True Blood.’ Terry liked the show surprisingly, being the first of your boyfriends to take an interest in YOUR interests. What he didn’t like was how googly-eyed you got over Alcide. As trivial as it was, he wasn't going to sit and watch you drool over another man. 

Plating your food,

Terry brought it to you. Plopping down next to you on the couch with a plan in mind, Terry just sat back and watched you enjoy your food. A small satisfied sigh leaves your lips at the first bite. 

“Mmm, it’s so good! Thank you baby” you say, leaning in to kiss Terry’s cheek. He could feel his cheeks warm at your gratitude, placing a hand on your thigh and squeezing. Your breath hitched when Terry’s hand refused to leave your thigh. Instead tracing small circles while you ate. 

After finishing your food you and Terry cuddled up on your sofa with a blanket. Rubbing his chest you say, “Thank you for everything Terry, I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

Terry looks down at you grasping your chin forcing your brown eyes to meet his mossy green ones. “I’m just doing my job baby. What kind of man would I be if I let my woman suffer alone? I’m here for you, I love you, and I’ll always make sure you’re taken care of.” Terry’s hand migrated to the back of your neck, pulling you in excruciatingly slow. He watched your face change. Eyes become low, lips parting, and your breathing turns shallow. 

Terry inches impossibly closer, your lips a hair’s width apart, “What do you want, pretty girl?”

“Kiss me, please?” you ask, fingers coming up to grip his t-shirt. A small devious smirk makes its way onto Terry’s face as he leans down, lips brushing against yours. The anticipation is killing you. You two were practically sharing the same breath, yet Terry wouldn’t close the gap and lay one on you. 

“Please, Daddy? Let me thank you, I’ve been good haven't I?” you ask, looking up at Terry with the doe eyes that he loves so much. 

A groan leaves his lips as Terry places your bowl on the coffee table “You know what that look does to me, baby. C’mere,” and then his lips are on you. A surprised moan leaves your lips as you pull Terry closer, sucking his lips between yours. He grabs your hips positioning you on his lap, right atop his growing bulge. 

“How are you feeling honey, still sad? What can Daddy do?” Terry asks, his hand grasping and pulling at the fat of your ass. Grinding you against thick dick. 

“Touch me, please Daddy”, you whine. You could feel yourself soaking through the seat of your sleep shorts, having forgone underwear. Terry smiles against your lips, “I am touching you pretty girl”. Pulling back for air, you move your attention to his thick neck. Placing wet open mouthed kisses there migrating up to his ear, nipping and sucking at the lobe. You hear Terry’s breath stutter drawing a smile from your lips. Terry pulls back in time to see the bright dopey smile on your face and he places a kiss on your nose.

Pulling your shirt over your head, Terry's eyes lock on plump mahogany breasts and chocolate nipples. 

“Fuck, pretty girl. You’re not playing fair,” Terry says, head dropping onto the back of the sofa. A soft giggle leaves your lips. You slither up Terry’s body like a cat in heat, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

“C’mon Daddy don’t you wanna feel how wet I am for you? Just for you,” you whisper into Terry’s ear, finishing with a lick. A small ‘fuck’ leaves Terry’s lips as his hand comes cracking down on your ass forcing a small yelp to leave your lips. 

“Keep that up baby and I’ll give you exactly what you’re asking for,” Terry said, playing with your shorts. Pulling them halfway down to jiggle your ass or tugging them high up your ass giving your clit the much needed friction you craved. You two were making out like porn stars, sloppily, lips glistening with spit. You pulled back to look at Terry, his eyes half mast filled with need and desire for you. You’re positive your face looks the same. Terry picks you up off his lap, setting you next to him on the sofa as he gets up. Turning on your sunset lamp and turning off the lights to create an ethereal glow around your living room. Then he moves pieces of your sectional together making it a day bed of some sort. 

“Strip babygirl, I want you naked by the time I get back,” Terry commands, then picks up your leftovers, and heads back to the kitchen. It was embarrassing how fast you threw the sticky shorts off. Your pussy was talking and Terry hadn’t even touched you yet. As you wait for Terry, you start massaging your tits. Nipples forming tight peaks, tugging and pulling creates a throb you feel straight down to your clit.  Small moans started leaving your lips. The ache between your thighs growing almost painful as you whined, waiting for your man to return and fuck you stupid. After five minutes you almost debate finding him.

“Terrrrryyyy,” you cry out. When you get no response you peek over your shoulder, when you don’t see him you decide to start on your own. Sliding your hands down your body, you’re about to reach your pussy when Terry’s hand grabs yours, pulling a gasp from you. 

“I said strip, when did I tell you to touch my pussy?”Terry's looking down his nose at you. 

“I’m sorry, Daddy I need you please!” You whine, sitting up. Terry makes his way around the sofa looking like a lion stalking his prey. He stands in front of you crossing his arms, a cup in one hand. 

“Spread those legs for me mama,let me see my pussy,” Terry said. Your legs fell open immediately the quiet ‘schlick’ heard between the two of you. Terry’s eyes darken, the color of a stormy sea and he takes a step toward you. 

“Hands behind your back sweetheart, you know the drill,” Terry purrs, crawling on the sofa. Taking a long sip from his cup before setting it down. Like an obedient little slut you put your hands behind your back with a small smile on your face, “Like this papa?” you asked. 

Terry dropped his head and groaned, “I’m trying to make you wait babygirl, I’m two seconds away from burying my face in that sweet pussy,” Terry said, his voice sounding like he was in pain. 

“C’mon papa look at how ready she is for you, she couldn’t wait for you to get your hands on her,” you scooched your ass further down the sofa, practically planting your pussy on his chin. With a growl, Terry was on top of you, hand clutching your cunt. 

Terry started massaging your clit with his fingers releasing a relieved moan from your lips. 

“Unh Terry, it feels good!” you said, head thrown back, and your back arched. 

A devilish smile formed on Terry’s lips. He loved the sounds you made when he played with you. 

“Make that sound again baby,” Terry said, tonguing your nipple. 

“Unh! Daddy!Take your pants off please. I want to feel you” you moan, gripping Terry’s neck. Pulling him down to lock your lips. Terry explored your pussy like it was his first time. Experimenting with how wet he could make you. Sliding his pants and boxers down he freed his monster of a dick. 

“I’m going to fuck you baby,but first tell me how bad you want it” Terry said, his finger picking up the pace on your clit.

“I want you so bad Terry,” you say leaning up to peck his lips over and over. 

A small chuckle leaves his lips, “Yeah? How bad? Let Daddy know sweetheart.” Terry’s working your clit between his fingers, the slick sounds permeating through your home. 

“Fuck Daddy I want you to take care of me like you always do . You’re such a good provider, always making sure I have what I need! Ouuu! Baby, right there! Yes! You’re going to make me cum, fuck!,” You moan out, your voice rising in pitch letting Terry know you were close. 

“Then come on my tongue sweet girl,” Terry leans down and takes your clit in his mouth. Your mouth falling open in a silent scream as your breath staccatos

“You look so pretty, baby. I love how wet this pussy gets for me. You ganna let Daddy fuck the bad thoughts away. Want me to make it feel better sweetie. Because I can, you know Daddy can help,” Terry slips two fingers into, causing your soul to leave your body. 

Combined with his suction on your clit, you stood no chance against the orgasm that rocked your body. “Oouuu Terry! Yesssss!”, you moaned as Terry worked your orgasm out of you.

“That’s right pretty girl, give me that orgasm,” Terry said, adding another finger. You were beyond seeing stars at this point. There was a full milky way galaxy dancing behind your eyes. Terry had a dark smirk on his face, loving the effect he had on you. He loved making you come, how you gave yourself over to him completely. He was surprised when you forced his fingers out of your pussy, a harsh stream of liquid following. A high pitched moan left your lips as your body shook.

“Yes Honey! That’s it!” Terry moaned, slapping your clit a few times. Your body shook and shuddered in the aftermath of your orgasm. Vision hazy as you tried to center yourself. Terry stripped off the rest of his clothes and hovered over you, his warmth seeping into your skin. 

“Hey, look at me baby,”Terry brought his finger to your face caressing you. Your eyes refocused on Terry’s soft ones, a small smile forming on your lips. Terry mirrored your expression, leaning down to press his lips against yours in a passionate sloppy kiss. Teeth and tongues clashing in a frantic meet of mouths. Both of you are trying to convey your love for one another. 

“Papa, I need you inside me” you wine against Terry’s lips. Terry doesn’t need to be told twice, he positions himself at your entrance and eases in. Both your lips part, needy moans releasing from your lips.

“Terry, Terry, Terry! Oh my god!” You moan as he sets a punishing rhythm. Punching your cervix with the fat mushroom head of his dick. You lose yourself in the feeling of being fucked by him. 

“How’s that feel baby, can you feel how much Daddy loves his sweet girl?” Terry asked. How he could ask you questions while digging your shit out like this is beyond you. You just moan and nod, his thrusts stealing the breath from your lungs.

“Words baby. I need to hear you say it. You’ll do that for daddy won’t you?” Terry asks, bringing his hand up to your throat applying slight pressure. The delicious feeling pulling a needy whine from your lips. Terry was hitting all your spots and you couldn’t think.

“Yes daddy, I feel it. I love it. I love you,” you moan your eyes slowly making their descent to the back of your skull. Terry loved when you started babbling on his dick, saying any and everything to please him. And please him it did. 

Terry felt like a man possessed, your pleasure the only thing on his mind determined to coax as many orgasms out of you as possible. He was going at you like a man on a mission. The push and pull, the slick sounds of him going in and out of your pussy driving him insane.  

“I love you more baby. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help you with the dark thoughts, but I’m here now Daddy’s ganna fuck the depression out of you,” Terry said raising one of your knees so he could hit you even deeper.

You bring your hands up, grabbing Terry’s ass pulling him deeper inside you. “Baby you’re going to make me cummm!,” you moan out. Terry moans in your ear, pulling you in for another sloppy kiss. Terry releases your lips, leaning back to look at you. 

“Open your eyes pretty girl, I love the way you look when you come for me,” Terry was long past close. He wanted to cum so bad, but he wouldn’t, not until he felt your velvet walls pulse around his thick dick. 

“Cum with me Daddy! I need to feel you fill me up!,” You say reaching for Terry’s ears, rubbing them softly. Terry’s eyes start to roll in the back of his head. He loves it when you play with his ears.

“You’re so good to me Daddy, always taking care of me. You’re making me feel so good, thank you Daddy! Thank you for fucking the depression out of…” you never got to finnish your sentence. Orgasm hitting you like a bus. Terry was ejected from your pussy with the force, you squirted so hard your vision went white as a high pitched moan left your lips. Terry started in awe. He stood above you jerking his dick.

“Fuck that was so sexy baby I’m about to come,” Terry said. That all too familiar ache forming in his abdomen. Balls heavy and tight with the need to release. Your eyes regained their focus in just enough time to watch Terry erupt all over you. Painting you with his cum, a small smile formed on your face as his warm release landed on your breasts, tummy and legs. 

“Mm that was a big one daddy, thank you,” you moan, collecting his essence to taste. A moan leaves your lips as the salty, earthy musk hits your taste buds. Terry leans down, placing another kiss to your lips. 

“How do you feel now babygirl?” Terry asks, using the spare napkins to clean you up. 

You place a kiss on Terry’s cheek, “Much better Daddy, but I think I’m still a little sad” you said, smirking up at him. Terry shakes his head at you with a playful smile on his lips.

“Well you better go grab us some waters babygirl, I’m not done with you yet,” Terry said before lifting you over his shoulders to carry you to your room.

THE END <3

I think this might be the fastest I’ve ever written anything. I just really wanted to create a vulnerable piece, and I LOVE how this piece turned out. This is supposed to be a one shot but that’s TBD as of now. As always constructive criticism is encouraged but please take it easy on me, I’m sensitive.

TAGLIST: 

@blackgurlnhermoods @megamindsecretlair @dxddykenn @pinkkycherrish @pinkkycherrish @episodes-ff @kimuzostar @kianaleani @uzumaki-rebellion @urfavblackbimbo @shallipii @greatpandagladiator @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @theereina @pocketsizedpanther @mymindisneverhere @onherereading @nayaesworld @earthchica @skyesthebomb @gg-trini @blyffe @melalsworld @mogul93 @ms-mosley-ifunastyyy @sweettea-and-honeybutter @diaries-of-me @simplyzeeka @kumkaniudaku

[dc418writes]

Fuck it, I’m Jealous

✨Pairing✨: TE!Terry Richmondxblack!reader

Summary🪄: Your (secret) feelings for your best friend reach a new height

🚨: teensy bit of angst, brief mention of children, language, allusion to abusive relationship, fluff mixed throughout

Fic inspo:

*DISCLAIMER!: I DO NOT CLAIM OWNERSHIP of pictures used as they were all found via Pinterest*

I ain't never been good at sharing

But with you, I practice patience

And I let you do your thing 'cause I'm doin' mine

I was actin' like I'm good when I know I'm lyin'

The rhythmic thud and vibrations from the speakers run through your whole body as you sit at the mini bar watching other guests dancing and laughing. Usually you’d be among the bodies swaying on the dance floor at least once or mingling with whomever was open enough to talk, but tonight you can’t seem to switch your focus from the couple near the tall floor to ceiling windows.

Specifically, your best friend, Terry, and the woman giggling and smiling as she hangs on to his every word.

They’ve nearly been attached at the hip all night - moving from the dance floor to a more private section of the bustling mansion’s living room - and you had to admit, she was gorgeous. Silky, black hair flowing to the middle of her back and face flawlessly clear of blemishes, she was definitely his type with her Hollywood dazzling smile and matching perfect curves. Yet with every flirty glance, you could feel a sickening twinge in your gut.

So much in your head, you fail to realize your other best friend, Ondrea, had joined you after ordering another fruity cocktail. “Her beauty does not take away from yours.”

“I know,” you softly smile attempting to hide your hurt.

“And you, my love, have a line of suitors both in here and outside who’d be blessed with just a minute of your attention.”

You didn’t want them though. Every single one you tried just couldn’t compete - let alone be in the same room - as Terry Richmond. Charming, big eared, jerk.

Wrapping an arm around your shoulders, she leans her head on yours with a soft sigh, “Want me to break them up? Accidentally on purpose spill a drink on her?”

“No,” you chuckle, “and I think you’ve reached your limit on the drinks.” She did tend to be a little more…aggressively protective around her fourth. “Where’s Ali?”

Sipping from the little glass in her hand, her other waves as if she couldn’t care less where her defensive lineman husband was. “I’m grown, okay? I don’t need a babysitter and don’t think I don’t realize you trying to divert! Have you talked to him?”

“Drea we both know I can’t do that.”

“You need to though! If I see you sad about alien eyes one more time imma fight him myself.”

“Aye you supposed to be cut off.” You’ve never been happier to see Ali. You came to this party in hopes to forget your messy feelings. To get a long deserved break from the heaviness - and occasional tears - they caused. “Gimme the glass now Ondrea Marie.”

Rolling her eyes, she’s quick to drain the remainder of the candy green liquid - much to her husband’s dismay - before placing the glass in his large paw of a hand. “Happy?,” she hiccups with a giggle lightly bumping you.

“This woman,” he mumbles in exasperation leaving the empty glass on the shiny bar. “Hey bitty, surprised to see you and Terry separated.”

You’d practically been each other’s shadows since college. Each somehow drifting back after working the room if you didn’t stick together the entire time. It’s why most of those interested became slightly disappointed thinking you were more than friends, which you’d both immediately deny.

“By all means, shoot ya shot. Want me to introduce you?”

“Well, I uh thought it’d be best to give him some privacy since he’s pretty occupied.” Turning to find his teammate among the moving attendees, he smirks watching the mystery, model-esque woman lean in to whisper in the Tight End’s ear. Clearly something salacious from how Terry licked his full lips before handing her his phone. His mouth smoothly whispering something back then moving to her neck as she giggled and playfully smacked his chest.

“Well he’s definitely gonna have a fun night.”

That made one of you. “Yep, and I think I’m gonna head home.”

“Already?”

“Yea it’s been a long day, plus I got more to do tomorrow.” Like sulk in the privacy of your own home. Maybe catch an episode or two of Law and Order.

“Oh okay. You need a ride? Or want me to get T-?”

“Nope I’m alright. I’ll just Uber again,” you quickly answer. From his slightly raised brow, you know Ali can probably sense there’s an issue but he doesn’t press on and you’re grateful he seems to catch the hint.

“Uh uh we can drive you home,” Ondrea speaks up trying to stand on slightly unsteady legs. Luckily Ali’s there to keep her from falling to which she insists she’s got it and he rolls his chocolate eyes.

“No yall stay, I’ll be fine.” Not giving them a chance to utter another word, you slip from your barstool with a quick wave and clutch in your hand as your heels hastily clack along the tiled floor towards the entrance. “I’ll call when I get home!”

-

“We should have another one,” Terry states staring with proud eyes at the quiet bundle in their white crib. His elbows bent over the railing as he adorably coos while fixing the small blanket that looked like the one from your childhood.

“We just had this one,” you giggle jokingly poking the back of his thigh with your toe. Peering over his shoulder, there’s no hiding that boyish grin you fell in love with.

“She need a friend though, she told me.”

“Mhm..she told you that?” He nods moving to get on his knees and crawl until his head is in your lap. His soft hands bringing yours to his lips to peck as he begins to beg.

“Pleasepleaseplease!”

The melodic chime from your doorbell startles you awake with a racing heart and dull ache in your temple from sitting up too fast. It’s soon followed by a couple thunderous knocks that don’t help your already panicked state.

‘Gimme a break,’ you think shuffling to your door. In retrospect, you should’ve looked on your app before opening the door. Or maybe even pretended you weren’t home.

Black Nike sweats covering his legs and matching sweatshirt over his upper half, Terry wasn’t annoyed but you could tell he was in a mood.

“H-Hey,” you greet with a nervous smile. “Everything okay?”

His brief, low chuckle is far from humorous as he crosses his thick arms across his chest. “I could ask you the same. Haven’t talked to you in almost a month.”

‘And? Haven’t you been busy with what’s her name?’ You want to say, but instead you simply shrug. “I’ve been busy.”

“So busy you can’t text or call me back? Come to my games?”

“Wow, one less fan to watch you out of what..hundreds of thousands?,” you sarcastically retort with an attitude Terry had never been on the receiving end of. “I don’t have to always-,”

“You back with him?”

Him in question being your ex, Chris. From their first meeting, Terry couldn’t stand him and definitely wasn’t shy about telling you.

“You need to let him go.”

“I’m tellin you, he’s no good twin.”

The feeling was mutual with Chris. At the mention of Terry he’d roll his eyes and mood would visibly change. And when your then boyfriend expressed how he didn’t want you around Terry, you reluctantly respected that boundary. Until it seemed he didn’t want you with Ondrea either.

It unfortunately took some time to see that so called boundary was nothing more than control. Although slightly hurt, neither of your friends blamed you when you came back with tearful apologies. They took turns being your shoulder to cry on, but Terry tended to check in and visit more. There were many days he’d be waiting in your apartment’s parking lot - specifically in the spot next to your usual - sat in his black on black Ford truck with bags of food in the passenger seat.

“Don’t you have practice in the morning?,” you asked that first night he appeared.

“Yes, and I’ll be there don’t worry twin,” he winked gathering both takeout bags in his hand before following you to your door.

“No, I’m not.”

“Then what?,” Terry asks. “I do something to you?”

Yes, you made me fall in love with you and complicate my love life dookiehead. “No,” you sigh.

Kissing his teeth, his frustration only builds the more you lie. “Look, I’m not stupid clearly it’s something! You ain’t even invite me in and I’m just supposed to-,”

“I just need space Terry!”

“From me?”

“Yes! And…”

Those words are right there on the tip of your tongue practically tickling your lips ready for their escape. Your fears clutch them at the last moment though, refusing to let them go and potentially ruin the best relationship of your life thus far. Your second home you could always depend on.

“And what?”

Your fingers massage you temple feeling that headache become sharper and more painful. “Can we just…not..tonight?” You were nowhere near ready - mentally or emotionally - for this conversation. However like the stubborn, determined man he is Terry can’t easily let things go. Whenever there’s a problem, he finds a solution then and there.

In double time if it concerns his family or friends.

His long legs swiftly bring him over your threshold before closing the door behind him. His hypnotic green eyes intense and never leaving yours leaning back against the wooden entrance.

“I’m not leaving until you get whatever it is you need to say out! I know something’s wrong and wish you’d-,”

“Fine! You wanna know? It is you T,” you finally reveal with tears beginning to flow down your heated cheeks. He wanted to know? Well he just opened Pandora’s box. “I’m..I’m tired of pretending I’m fine seeing you with other girls and hearing about this one in Vegas and-and that one from the club!”

You don’t know if his silence is him taking in your words or from shock. Maybe even unease. For the first time you can’t read him at all.

You can feel the knot form in your throat as your fear tries once more to stop your vulnerability. As usual, he can tell you’re ready to shut down again prompting him to step closer carefully reaching out to brush your freshest tear away from your face. “What else? Keep goin.”

“I shouldn’t have ignored you, but I knew if I said something then I’d ruin what we already have,” you softly explain trying to steady your heaving chest and hiccups. “I mean there’s a reason we’ve never crossed that line right?”

“And why is that?,” he asks stuffing his hands in his pockets.

Was..was he serious? “B-Because you’re not attracted to me like that. Which is fine-,”

“I never said that.” Now was his turn to struggle finding his next words as he took a break from your angelic features to peer down at the tiled floor. Meanwhile you patiently stood there rubbing your ear in your attempt to self soothe - a habit you had as a kid that surprisingly followed you all these years.

“From that first day we met in the dorms, I could tell you were different-,”

“I was one of the crew,” you interrupt.

“No, I mean…you weren’t one to play around. You were intentional with everything you did, had your shit together, and if it ain’t make sense to you, you didn’t want no parts.

You couldn’t help it, it’s how you were raised. Not to say you didn’t have fun and make time for the things you liked, but at the end of the day you knew the important stuff needed to get done.

“I knew I wasn’t there, so I didn’t bother you. You kept it friendly, so I did too. Doesn’t mean I was never attracted.”

You can feel your heart begin its rapid patters again, but now for a completely different reason. “So…so what?,” you ask still unsure. “You’re saying you’ve liked me this entire time?”

His Jordans lightly squeak as he steps closer once more. The amber from his Tom Ford cologne and body heat radiating from his chest makes you dizzy feeling your knee wobble as your back meets your kitchen island. His grayish-green eyes attached to yours once more after a quick glance at your pouty lips. “I’m saying I’ve been attracted to you since I first saw you, and every day after we got closer I knew you complimented me in the best ways…the yin to my yang, my twin. I didn’t wanna be that guy you thought only was friends with you to get with you.

“And when Lizard-,”

“His name is Chris,” you corrected, rolling your eyes with a sniffled giggle.

“I know what I said.” So petty. “When he did that, I wanted to protect you from anyone else who tried to hurt you,” he bashfully shrugs and you mentally aw at how adorable he could be. “Wanted to be the only one to protect you.”

It’s as if your body’s in control rather than your brain how you eliminate the remaining space, reaching up to press your lips against his. Admittedly, it’s…different at first - reminiscent of your first kiss in middle school - but when his warm hand caresses your cheek and the other slides to your lower back, sparks tingle and ignite from your head to your toes. Your lips moving at their own rhythm as both your tongues soon follow pulling moans from your chest.

Begrudgingly, Terry breaks first needing air - and a moment to collect himself. His low chuckle brushes against your cheek hearing your little whimper from wanting more. “Gimme a minute twin,” he smiles pressing his forehead against yours.

“So…what now?,” you whisper nearly getting lost in the way his fingertips feel grazing along your spine.

“You tell me. What do you want?” The deep baritone of his whisper sends addicting shivers throughout your body.

“You,” you answer gently gripping his sweatshirt not wanting to let go - just in case this was some wild fever dream. “All to myself.”

He can’t help but smile at the way your onyx eyes, mixed with swirls of ebony, innocently peer up at him through your wispy lashes. “You got me,” he replies leaning down to meet your waiting lips once more.

I ain't gon' tell you to drop them other bitches

But drop them other bitches

I never been jealous

But fuck it, I'm jealous

So goddamn invested

A/N🎤: HAPPY HOLIDAYS EVERYONE✨���!! I hope everyone is having a great time and able to rest. Or if you’re going through it this season, I wish healing for you and to remember you are so loved and deserving of love☺️.

This idea has been on my mind for a while and uh…I honestly don’t know how to feel about it lol it took on so many changes and I feel like it might be boring, but then again I’m my own worst critic so hopefully yall enjoy!

I wanted to have a holiday themed story or two out by now but as usual I am late lol, but I’m still trying to have something out before new years (however we’ll see👀 lol)

[that-one-anxious-mango]

sweet negotiations

summary: terry finds himself in a series of negotiations and comforts with his wife after a key asset in their home is compromised.

pairing: terry richmond x black reader (Dallas)

content: fluff, allusions to nsfw acts, some mild crying (hormones)

a/n: hello there and welcome! after looking for some more fluffy terry fics and almost crashing out when I couldn't find them, I decided to just start writing some that will all take place in the same universe titled 'thunder and lighting’ which will follow you, terry, and the antics of domestic and kinky married life. this is the first of many to come. so enjoy, like, comment, and reblog :)

" I said no." Terry, his voice soft and tired, sounded off the freshly painted sage green walls of nursery, “ Now, stop pouting and hand me the second screwdriver on the chair, please.” 

But instead of moving to fulfil his request, you stay planted in your spot by the door, still pouting, possibly harder now as you looked down to inform your companion of the mistreatment.

“ You hear that, muffin? You hear how Daddy is being mean to us.” You playfully patted at your swollen stomach, while being sure to throw your husband an extra pouty expression—bottom lip puckered and all. “ Why won’t he be nice and feed us, huh?”

In this moment of time you were about five months pregnant with yours and Terry's third child. And while he absolutely adored seeing you like this, barefoot, in one of his old band shirts and low shorts, with a scarf on your head, and thick bifocals sitting neatly at the bridge of your nose as carried his baby. He could do without the sullen expression on your face as an accessory.

“ Baby, ain’t nobody being mean to you by telling you that you can’t have a half a pint of ice cream for breakfast.” Terry's eyes glance at you, before turning his attention back to the half done wooden crib he was working on. “ Now, if you want me to make you some eggs, toast, or oatmeal. I will. But you ain’t having that this early in the morning.” 

“ If at all today. Need to watch what you’re eating more carefully, Mama.” He reminded you. “ Remember what Dr. Kaltura said about watching excess sugar and salt intake. This is serious.”

Quickly the words of your OB flashed through your brain after it had been found that your blood sugar had been a tad higher than she’d liked, a fate that had carried on from your previous pregnancy with your twins into this one.

And of course the minute your husband had caught wind of this, he had come out of retirement from the sugar task force as he now micromanaged and policed every and all things you consumed for the foreseeable future.

“ But Terryyyy.” You whined, “ That’s what both of us want, Poppa.”

Still despite your efforts, he wouldn’t budge.

“No. She doesn’t want that. You do’.” He pointed out, getting up to grab his needed tool,“ Besides, there isn’t anymore anyway.”

“ Yes, he absolutely does. “ You slyly corrected your husband’s wishful thinking, “ And what do you mean there isn’t anymore? Did you throw out my ice cream, Richmond?! Cause I would absolutely hope that’s not what you’re insinuating.”

He sighed, noting the way your eyes turned wild at the thought of your husband touching your beloved sweet treat.

He knew better.

Cause that would be too far and he knew it.

“ No, ma’am.” He simply said, moving back to his work, “ Not this Richmond.” 

“ However, our dear Teensy Richmond may have eaten the rest of it last night after dinner for dessert when you went upstairs to take your bath.” He referred to one your soundly sleeping six year old daughters just down the hall. 

Immediately a frown found a home on your face as you said, “ Wha—I thought I left out pieces of the pecan pie for ya’ll to have. Why were there cute tiny little grubby hands on my ice cream, Poppa?!!”

You huffed, recalling how you had distinctively cut and plated three different pieces of a pecan pie, one large and two small, for your little family to consume after a delicious dinner of lamb chops and smothered potatoes with smoked asparagus.

“ You did.” He confirmed your thoughts , “ But our baby requested to have her pie…a la mode. Which meant a scoop of some of your rocky road was needed as that was the only ice cream left in the freezer.”

“ And as you know, our Tiny Richmond isn’t too fond of rocky road. So she had hers plain jane with glass of milk.” He furthered his explanation.

And although you wanted to be mad at your baby’s little sweet tooth, you couldn’t be, because she got it honest. Still you couldn’t shake off this strange and sudden feeling of…well sadness…that coursed through your body at the thought of the empty ice cream container sitting downstairs in the garbage.

“ Yeah, but if you only gave Teensy a scoop of it. And Tiny didn’t have any, there should be some left.” You tried rationalizing in the same manner of if Johnny had two apples…

Until it came to you, “ Unless…”  

You looked to him and as if he could really read your thoughts, he held a sheepish expression on his face, as he knew what was next to come, “Terrance seriously?!” You hadn’t meant to, but you stamped your feet lightly against the shiny hardwood floor. “ I can’t believe your big eared ass ate my ice cream.”

And just like that your brief moment of sadness has morphed into hormone filled rage.

To which your husband found oddly adorable doing his best to keep a smile off his face, remorse riddled in his tone when he said, “ I’m sorry, Precious. She didn’t wanna eat alone. And since Tiny wasn’t going to have any, I may have had a scoop…or two myself to help finish it off. But it’s okay. We can get more at the store later.” He reasoned, screwing in nut B to pole B. 

By now he was expecting his thunderous woman of a wife to do what she does best, which is make noise about the fact that the rest of her brood ate the ‘ one damn thing the baby allows her to keep down’, but instead he was surprised to look over and see you standing there silent—with tears collecting just at the edge of your waterline. Frown deep. Shoulders slumped.

“ Baby….” He called out in a knowing tone, looking at the way your mouth had slightly turned down and your arms had wrapped around your body, “ C’mon now, Precious. It’s alright. ”

But almost as if it was the release words for your tears, you quickly found your fingertips becoming increasingly wet from wiping the streams away from your cheeks as you began to head toward the door. Slightly embarrassed at your lactose driven waterworks.

Getting up with a sigh, he wasted no time making his way over to you, big hands coming to cup your waist and guide you over to the creme rocking chair, moving all the tools on it to the floor.

It didn’t take long for him to sit and guide you on his lap, an arm wrapped tight around your waist while a calloused hand came to rub against the damp soft apple of your cheek. 

“ C’mere, pretty baby.”  He pecked your lips, tasting the salt of your tears, “ You know I don’t like it when my woman is unhappy. Especially when you’re crying.” 

“ I just can’t help it.” You mutter, partially frustrated with your inability to get a hard grasp on your emotions. “ I just really wanted it. And I mean I know it’s not that serious enough for me to be crying over. And it may seem dramatic but- ” 

“ But it made you upset and that’s okay. You don’t have to explain or try and justify you wanting to cry to me, Baby. It’s fine.” He affirmed, a hand coming to rub at your belly, “ I know this one has those emotions a tad high, and I’m sure Teensy and I blowing up your ice cream stash ain’t helping.” 

A smile fainting at your lips, at the thought of your husband and daughters sitting at the dining room table, talking and laughing over their late night dessert. 

“ So once the twins wake up and we have breakfast we can all take a family trip to the store and grab some more, alright?” He said. 

“ Mmm. And some more Oreos? And Miss Vickie’s Jalapeño?” You rubbed your eyes before looking at him intently, a smirk playing on his face, “ Ya’ know for the pain and suffering caused.” 

“ Hmm. I see.” A hand traveling to your thigh, “ Well for your pain and suffering I am willing to offer you a pint…not a a half baby…but a full pint of rocky road, with a bag of the chips.”

“ Mmm. But what about my Oreos.” You mused. 

He shook his head, “ Nope. Not on the table, beloved. Too much sugar.”

“ Mmm. I dunno. Doesn’t sound fair. I mean I already was owed the ice cream. And while the chips are a good gesture of faith. I feel I deserve more for this indiscretion.” 

He was silent, still smiling at the determination in your filled out cheeks when he said, “  Fine. Counter offer. Pint of the rocky road, bag of chips, and I’ll throw in a bubble bath and personal back massage from yours truly after dinner.” Your breath hitched, feeling a hand slip underneath your bottom to palm the bit of exposed skin you had peeking from under your night shorts. 

“ Just for the record. What kind of massage would this be? ” You coyly inquired, knowing full well what kind he meant.

He moved his mouth to your ear, “ One with a guaranteed happy ending. For us both it seems.”

And how could you deny that? 

“ Fine. I accept your counter offer with the added addition that oil will be used for my massage.”

“ Of course m’am. No other way I’d do it.” He assured, rubbing circles in your thighs. 

“ Good.” You said.

“ Great.” He one upped, “ Now, how should we close this deal? I say with a kiss.”

“ Mmm. “ You hummed, “ I dunno. I think I may need more than a kiss to seal it. And I also think we may need to try out and see how sturdy this chair is. Ya’ know for safety reasons.” 

“ And do you suggest we do that?” His voice low.

“ I dunno.” Your lips find his cheek then his ear, “ We’re already seeing how much weight it can hold, but I wonder how much…rocking or bouncing it can take.”

“ Right, safety reasons.” He mumbled across the skin of your neck, “ Well if that’s the case then—” 

“ Poppa? Mommy? ” The little voice called out from the hallway.

“ WHERE ARE YOU?!” Another yelled, ceasing both yours and Terry’s movements completely , and instead invoked laughter amongst the two of you as he helped you climb off of him and shuffle to the door to collect your late night little ice cream bandit and morning hallway screamer.

[theereina]

Big Mama Pt. 6

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Plus Size Fem Black!OC

Wordcount: +2.3K

Warnings: MDNI (18+) mature content, such as cursing, teasing, heavily dialogue-centered, no smut, use of pet names (Daddy, Mama, lil' mama, pretty girl, good boy, b*tch, etc.), fluff, dirty talk, choking, Dom/Sub(brat)~relationship established

A/N: I don't know how many parts there will be. However, I'm open to critiques. I am a little 🤏🏽 sensitive about my writing. Please, don't be too harsh.🥺 Feel free to bring my attention to any typos. Divider by @firefly-graphics. Also, this work is not to be plagiarized or reposted (on any site other than here on Tumblr). I do NOT give consent for any form of republishing or rewriting.

Big Mama Pt. 1 => 🦋

Big Mama Pt. 2 => 🦋

Big Mama Pt. 3 => 🦋

Big Mama Pt. 4 => 🦋

Big Mama Pt. 5 => 🦋

*Masterlist: 🔥🔥🔥

“So, where yo’ man at? He still ain't back yet?” asked Monica. We had been on the phone chatting all morning. “I guess on the lake. He's still probably fishing,” I said, leaning against the counter. “Oh, so he out fishing, and you at home being all domestic and shit. Okay, housewife!” Monica laughed. “Shut the hell up,” I laughed.

I had been cooking all morning since Terry left. I packed his lunch in a cooler before making breakfast earlier that morning. “So, we cooking three meals a day now?” she said being messy. “Listen, you messy whore. Stop picking on me,” I said, smacking my lips. I turned back to the stove and stirred the pot of collard greens. “You right! I'll leave you alone,” Monnie said.

I walked to the fridge and pulled out the variety of shredded cheeses I bought. I poured all of them into a glass bowl I placed on the counter. Since it was too soon to cook it, I only wanted to start preparing the macaroni and cheese for now.

“We both know you're lyin’!” I said into the phone. “Girl, it's just crazy seein’ you like this. It's so fuckin' cute. You all soft and shit,” she said giggling. “Whatever!” I yelled back while rolling my eyes. “You and I both know you ain't never did no shit like this. I'm used to Big Mama who be pressin’ niggas. Now, yo’ ass in the house cookin’ for one,” she hollered. I scoffed at her remark. Was I really that down bad?

I opened the oven and checked on the cornbread. The sweet smell of honey wafted through the air. I lightly pressed the top of the bread checking the firmness. I put on an oven mitt and pulled it from the oven. I sat it on a towel on the counter. “Girl, I wish you could see this cornbread. It's beautiful,” I said smiling. “Only you would call cornbread beautiful. Keep teasing me, and imma pull up, bitch. I'll bring my own Tupperware, so don't worry!” she cackled. “So, you just gone show up to eat, then leave?” I asked. “Well, what else am I supposed to do? Y'all too busy playin’ house and shit!” Monnie stated.

“You know what? Fuck you! I'm getting off the phone,” I snorted. “That's right! You betta have Mister’s plate on that table by the time he make it home. Oh, and bring me back a niece or nephew while you at it,” she giggled. “Bye, and it's still fuck you!” I said, hanging up the phone.

At this point, I was floating through the kitchen— mixing Mac and cheese, stirring collard greens, frying and flipping chicken, and whipping up a banana pudding. It felt so good to be in my happy place.

4 hours later ~ around 7 p.m.

Rinsing off the day, Terry was upstairs taking a shower, and I was finishing the final touches for dinner. The mac and cheese was browned to perfection. The collard greens were flavorful and savory. The fried chicken was chef’s kiss. The cornbread smelled like heaven. The banana pudding was just waiting in the fridge. I had outdone myself. Maybe Monnie was right. Was I in my housewife era? Had Terry put me in soft girl mode? Ah, shit!

As I reached to retrieve the plates from the cabinet, I felt something press against my back. “I got it, mama. Let me,” Terry said, reaching over me. “Thank you,” I said, kissing his cheek. He put the plates down on the counter in front of me. “Shit, I didn't realize you had done all this. You really weren't playin’, huh?” Terry asked, wrapping his arms around my waist. He leaned over and started planting small kisses on my neck.

“If you wanna eat, you gotta leave me alone. The plates haven't even hit the table,” I giggled while shrugging my shoulder to get him to stop. “It’s a shame that a man can't have dessert before dinner,” he said, turning me around to face him. He pressed his body against mine and trapped me against the counter. “Terry, you promised to behave. Come on!” I said, pushing my hip towards him. “No, I promised to try. I did. I swear, but you look so damn good,” he said, placing his arms on the counter beside me. I whined and scrunched my face. Did I want to fuck Terry’s brains out? Yes! However, I had also spent all day cooking his favorite meal and dessert.

I folded my arms across my chest. “Ah, mama! Okay, I’m sorry. You’re right. I asked you to cook for me, and you did just that. Thank you, love,” he said pulling me into him. His lips crashed into mine. He held my face in his hands and tilted my head to look him in the eyes. “Forgive me?” he asked flashing that devious smile. This sneaky bastard knew how to get me. “Yes, now move!” I said nudging him away from me.

Terry reached for the plate in front of me. “I said move. Didn't I? That means sit down, Terry!” I said rolling my eyes and laughing. I turned towards the counter, blocking him. “My bad. I don’t know what it is, but you knowin’ yo’ way around a kitchen like this makes me wanna…,” he said backing away from me. “Makes you wanna what?” I questioned as I turned around to look at him. Terry’s eyes lingered on my face and slowly dropped to my abdomen. A smile so sinister spread over his face. “I know damn well you aren’t suggestin’ that. A baby, Terry?” I scoffed while smiling. “I mean… You love me, right?” he asked while sitting at the table.

“First, it was Monnie talkin’ about bring her back a niece or nephew. Now, you! I can't deal with this. Why does everybody want me to get pregnant?” I laughed. “I don't know Monnie’s reasons because I wouldn't trust her to watch a pot of boiling water. However, I know mine, and I have… well,… many,” he said leaning back against the kitchen chair. He raised his arms so that they rested across the back. “And what might those be? Hm? I really wanna know, sir. Tell me,” I said as I turned to the food waiting on the stove.

“Don't worry about it, Mama. Just know I haven't found a reason not to. I'm just waitin' on you,” he said smiling. “Yo’ ass gone be waitin' a long ass time, too. A baby? Terry, you can't be serious!” I squealed. “A long ass time, huh? That's what you think. Imma get one out of you, ‘Vana. Best believe, I'm not gone have to trap you to do it either,” he cackled. “You know what? I'm not doin' this with you!” I said beginning to plate the food.

20 minutes later

“Done, baby?” I asked Terry while standing with my plate in my hand. “Uh,… Yeah,’’ Terry said. “You sound unsure. Baby, I ain't gone ever tell you you can't have more,” I said placing my plate in the sink. Terry’s eyes rose to meet my backside. His eyes lingered on my ass since my back was still turned. “More of what?” Terry asked biting his lip. I could sense a hint of something in his voice. I peeked over my shoulder to see him watching me. I giggled at his antics. “Terry? You know I can see you, right?” I said walking back to the table. I leaned over so that my face was close to his. If this was the game he wanted to play, let’s do it!

“Mmm. Why you playin’ wit’ me, ‘Vana?” he said shifting in his seat. “It’s easy,” I responded. “Oh, really?” he said licking his lips. I could feel his breath on my face. His chest was rising and falling rapidly. I could tell he was becoming more aroused by the second. “You never answered my question, honey. Do you want more?” I asked squatting down in front of him. “And you never answered mine. More of what?’” Terry asked as he leaned up to gently grab my chin. “You want my honest answer?” I asked placing my hands on his knees.

Terry's eyes watched my hands. “Of course, I want honesty, mama. Talk to me,” he said letting his thumb stroke my cheek. “If Daddy wants more, he can have whatever the fuck he wants,” I said trailing my hands up his thighs. Terry’s movements stilled, and his eyes shot up to my face. His eyes clouded with lust and darkened with desire.

Terry’s grip on my chin tightened as he used it to pull me forward. My knees hit the floor so I was kneeling in front of him. I leaned over and let my cheek rest on his growing erection. “Mamas, don't start something you can't finish. If you aren't ready for this, find you something safe to do,” he said. “The fuck is that supposed to mean,” I snapped as I looked up at him. “Aye, watch yourself. You heard me, little girl. I meant what I said,” he said grabbing my chin again. “Me? A little girl? Does someone need a reminder of who the fuck I am?” I asked leaning back on my calves and folding my arms across my chest. “You got one more cuss word before I…,” he said lowering his eyes into slants.

I couldn't believe I was doing this. I was initiating “playtime”. The excitement of the unknown pulsed through my veins. I was about to allow Terry to fully indulge in his needs and wants. I calmed my breathing before looking up at Terry again. “Before you what? You ain't gonna do shit, and we both know it. There ain't shit you can give that I can’t take,” I said fully committing to brat mode.

“You sure you wanna take this route? Once we begin, there's no turning back. You know that, right?” Terry asked leaning over me. His posture had changed and so had his energy. His shoulders were stiff and squared. It was as if his body was blanketing my entire aura and being. I sat for a minute contemplating my next move. How could I outdo myself?

I smiled as a thought crept into my head. I pulled my hands away and placed them in my lap. With the confidence of a goddess, I said, “You created this monster. Deal with it.” Terry's breathing halted before a smirk spread across his face. His hands instantly grabbed a handful of hair at the back of my head. “You got a lotta mouth, lil mama. I don't like that. I don't like it all,” he said tightening his grip. I moaned loudly. I could feel a puddle growing in my panties.

I was fully committed to my role as a brat. I laughed at Terry in an attempt to piss him off. That was having little to no effect on him. I knew I had to make him execute his fantasy to the fullest. I took a deep breath before speaking. “Fuck all that! What you trying to do, huh?” I asked biting my lip and cocking my head to the side.

All sentiments of expression left Terry’s face, and his body grew in anger. His hand quickly left my hair and found my throat. He squeezed tight enough for my breathing to stop. Ironically, all I could think about was how good this felt. My pussy quivered and ached as I released what felt like a mini orgasm. It soaked through my panties as he loosened the grip he had on my throat. “Look at you. Daddy’s little slut. You just couldn't help yourself, huh? That’s fine, mama. Just know this— when we get in that room, I’m gone turn yo thick ass every which way but loose. Don't run. Don't speak. Don't touch shit. It's my turn. Got it?” he said, releasing me with a push.

I looked up at Terry with big doe eyes before speaking again. “Yes, Big Daddy. I understand,” I said while struggling to hide my excitement. “Oh, you think those pretty brown eyes gone help you, huh? Ha! Too late for that. I’m trying to see the monster I created. Bring her out. Fuck all that cute shit!” he said leaning back into the chair. “But…” I started. “Aye, I don't remember asking you to speak. The only thing I want you to do with that there pretty mouth of yours is to suck, lick, slob, swallow, and do it again. You nasty, bitch!” Terry demanded.

As if activated on cue, I could feel the heat between my legs. I wanted this man’s hands all over me. RIGHT THE FUCK NOW! It was Terry’s turn to indulge in his fantasy as a dom. I loved the idea since he would show hints of it sometimes. His only request was not to be easy. He didn't want me to fully submit without any pushback. He liked the idea of me talking shit and provoking him. Terry’s plan involved leaning into a darker side of himself that he had never completely let out, and I trusted him enough to agree to do it. I felt he deserved this moment especially since he didn't judge me about mine.

So, let’s see where tonight takes us.

Taglist: @brattyfics @avoidthings @5headsupremacist @insidefeelingofanadult @creartivefairy @kirayuki22 @nayaesworld @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @ariiijestertheklown @miyuhpapayuh @megamindsecretlair @nayaxwrites @jimmybutlrr @gg-trini @vivaalenaa @slutsareteacherstoo

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@onherereading @blyffe @beenathembo @helloncrocs @thiccc-c @persethegawd

[ranikyani]

Semper Fidelis Vol II

Note: My first story cont.✨ & Open to constructive criticism as always. This was supposed to be a short one shot but y'all hyped me up in the comments of the last one 🫣 so here's part two 🥂 Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Smut, Use of AAVE, n-word, Suspicions of Cheating Mentioned Work count: 7k <

Read Volume I

Andrea excused herself from the crowd, weaving her way through the party goers and gracefully accepting well wishes with a practiced smile. The weight of Mark’s whispered words sat heavy on her chest, like a sleep paralysis demon. She pinched the skin on her arm taut to make sure she was actually awake. She reached the edge of the room and pushed on the door to the balcony, it opened harder than she intended causing it to slam against the windows behind it, and the frigid air swished around her body. It felt like every molecule in her body was aflame, so she inhaled deeply, surrendering to the frosty sensation.

Mark’s words replayed over and over again in her mind, each repetition cutting deeper.

They’ve been fucking. 

They’ve been fucking. 

They’ve been fucking. 

She shook her head, trying to dismiss it as drunken nonsense, but Mark had always been a reliable force in their lives. He was always one to push people's buttons and say the things others wouldn’t dare. 

But this? The timing… This wasn’t just some vulgar joke or offhand comment. It felt too deliberate as if it was meant to hurt. She looked out over the fireworks crackling in the night sky, the colorful explosions reflecting in her eyes, but the joy they were meant to bring couldn’t penetrate the storm raging in her heart.

Behind her, the party carried on unaffected. Laughter and music filled the air as Terry’s hearty laugh rose above everyone else's bringing her attention back to him. He was surrounded by a small group of men, his broad shoulders shaking as he laughed with his whole body retelling some old story she’s sure he’s told a thousand times before. His charisma still holding his audience captive, as always. 

She studied him from afar, taking note of the way he carries himself, so confident and relaxed. 

The way his green eyes crinkled and damn near closed when he smiled. 

The way he looked at her when he noticed her staring. 

Was it love? Or was it guilt?

“Mrs. Richmond” 

Andrea turned abruptly to find Colonel Amara Knight standing beside her, her expression soft but inquisitive.

“Colonel,” Andrea replied, forcing a smile. 

“You looked like you needed a moment” Amara said while stepping closer, her tone low and conspiratorial. 

“I noticed when you ran out of there… These big parties can be pretty overwhelming, but a little air always helps and this is a beautiful place to decompress..” 

Andrea nodded and turned to look down on the city below, appreciating the excuse to step away before she forgot herself and pushed her husband's alleged mistress off the roof.

That was the only option.

Sure she could hold her own in a street fight, but she wasn’t confident she could stand a chance against all that jujitsu shit. 

“You’re right. The view is breathtaking”

Amara smiled at Drea’s simple response, her eyes scanning the skyline and the chaos of the city below “Terry’s lucky, you know…” she started, “Not every Marine has someone like you holding down the fort at home and he couldn’t have made it this far without you. You’re the glue to keeping everything together, Andrea. Don’t ever forget that,” she stated matter of factly.

Andrea swallowed, her throat dry and glanced at her for a moment trying to determine her sincerity. Did she know? Did she hear Mark too? Was this all in her head?

She offered a tentative smile but before she could respond Terry’s voice boomed loudly from behind them

“Aye, there you go Drea!”

“You’re social battery doesn’t usually run out before mine, you okay?” Terry inquired, softening his voice and slipping his arm around his wife’s waist after he made his way to her. His touch was familiar and warm, but yet, it felt foreign in that moment. Andrea turned to him, his cheesy smile lighting up his whole face as Amara stepped back with an unreadable expression dissapearing into the crowd. 

“I just needed a breather,” she sighed out, her shoulders slumping as she pushed all the air from her lungs 

“Understandable.” Terry nodded “Great speech by the way, baby.”

“You always know how to make me look good” he added kissing her temple.

She half heartedly chuckled “You make it easy.” 

Sensing something was wrong, Terry turned to face her so he could look into her eyes and take in her expression. 

“You sure you straight?”

The question caught her off guard and she considered telling him what she heard and confronting him right then and there. But the party wasn’t the place. And she wasn’t quite sure she was ready to hear the answer.

“I’m fine,” she lied, offering a convincing and reassuring smile, “Just tired. It’s been such a long day.”

He nodded again, diving right into problem solving mode, “Well, why don’t we just sneak out early? We can go downstairs to just relax and let our guests continue to enjoy themselves.”

She hesitated, the thought of being alone with her own husband suddenly overwhelming “Maybe in a bit,” she shot back steadily. “I should mingle a bit more first.” 

“Let me know when you’re ready love” Terry kissed her on the forehead and shimmied passed the crowd to take his place on the dance floor screaming “woah-woaohhhh- hooooo!” as ‘Before I let Go’ started blaring through the speakers.

When he blended in with the crowd, Andrea turned back to the skyline taking a deep breath as her decision started crystalizing. She needed answers. She’d let Terry enjoy his night. He worked hard and sacrificed so much to give them a comfortable life; but she wasn’t going to wait long to get them.

The sheer curtains hanging in their bedroom did little to block the morning sunlight beaming through their bedroom windows. A dull ache throbbing at her temples was a lingering reminder of all the champagne she drowned herself in the night before.

Beside her Terry snored lightly his heavy arm slung upward and draped over his forehead. He looked peaceful and unburdened, his face relaxed in a way she rarely saw and she envied him because her own mind felt anything but peaceful as Mark's words resurfaced like a bad dream.

They’ve been fucking. 

Andrea’s phone buzzed on the nightstand beside her making the jewelry she discarded before crawling into bed last night clunk and rattle. She flipped it over and frowned, a text from Mark.

“We should talk. Call me.”

Her heart skipped a beat as she stared at the message. Knowing she couldn’t stay in denial and avoid these conversations forever she sat up slowly, careful not to disturb Terry and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. The cold from the hardwood floor under her bare feet made her wince, headache still pulsing in her skull. The chill cut through the fog from last night's alcohol and she slowly made her way to the bathroom in her strapless lace black bra and panty set. Pajamas weren't on the to-do list when they made it downstairs from their party. She reached for her baby pink silk robe to wrap around her and made sure to close the bathroom door softly, gently turning the lock. Going back to the text she received, she clicked on the contact photo, and pressed the call button. Mark answered almost immediately.

“Hey Drea” 

“Mark” she replied steadily despite her stomach twisting in knots at the sound of his voice.

“What did you mean last night?”

There was a pause, and when he finally spoke his voice was low and serious “I think you already know...”

Andrea tightened her grip on the phone, the implication of Mark’s words resting heavy on her chest.

 

“I don’t know, Mark..” she said, her tone sharp, “That’s why I’m calling.. Stop with the fucking riddles and just tell me what’s going on!” She exhaled, her shaky breath,  and then added more softly

“...please?” 

“Look,” he began, “it’s not my place to get in the middle of this Dre... But you a good woman and you deserve to know the truth.”

“The truth about what?” she snapped back immediately 

Another pause as Mark seemed to be weighing and calculating his next words.

“Terry and Amara.”

“What about them?” she whispered back

“It’s been going on for a while,” Mark admitted, “I didn’t want to believe it at first but… the signs are there.”

Andrea’s mind raced as she plopped down on her vanity stool to support herself before her knees gave out. She quickly thought back to every interaction she’d witnessed between Terry and Amara. The way they shared inside jokes, all the military lingo, the lingering glances she’d chalked up to professional camaraderie. Could she really be that blind?

“Do you have proof?” she asked, her voice tight. 

Mark hesitated. “Well, Not exactly... But I’ve seen enough to put the pieces together. The way she grabs his arms and clings to him when you’re not around... Late nights at the base... Private conversations… I see the way they act when they think no one’s watching.”

At this point the room was spinning and her stomach was doing summersaults. Circumstantial evidence wasn’t enough, not for something this serious, something that could blow up her life when she just got her husband back full time. 

 “That’s not proof Mark, that’s speculation,” she gritted out trying her best to stay calm. She needed his help, talking to this man crazy was not the answer.

“Maybe,” he fired back “but I wouldn’t have said anything if I didn't think you deserved to know.”

She stood up and swallowed hard, an involuntary reaction to his unwelcome revelation as thoughts of the previous night flooded her mind, “Why now? Why would you tell me at his retirement party?"

She started pacing back and forth as she recalled the events from last night, "And like that?… why was I up there in front of all those people..” 

“I was drunk,” Mark admitted, his tone laced with regret, “And I hate to see you in the dark when everyone else… knows.”

“Everyone else?” 

Mark sighed. “I’m sorry, Dre. I didn’t mean for you to find out like this. But you need to talk to Terry. Or Amara.”

Andrea ended the call without another word. She couldn’t listen to this shit anymore. Not without concrete evidence. 

She did everything right. 

All those late nights alone when Terry was deployed and she could’ve been fucking their fine ass, heavy set, brown skin neighbor down the hall in apartment 1738 who always was a little too eager to help with groceries?

She stayed faithful.

She maintained frequent calls and dinner dates with her mother-in-law. She even took charge of his younger cousins, keeping them out of trouble and guiding them with patience. Every game she could attend during football season? She was there. 

What the fuck?

The room tilted sideways, her stomach cramped like someone just punched her in the gut, and her mouth started to salivate uncontrollably. She dropped to her knees just in time. Her body heaved over the toilet as she vomited, everything inside her coming up in sharp, gut wrenching waves. Her body was sore and empty from expelling everything out of her stomach, but her mind was full and hosted an uncontrollable storm of disbelief and pain.

After cleaning herself up, she gently pulled the bathroom door open, careful not to wake her husband, and padded out of their bedroom and into the kitchen to the smell of leftover party food lingering in the air. She started the coffee maker, the whirring and bubbling sounds filling the otherwise quiet apartment. 

Is this what it felt like to be in the twilight zone? 

Still slightly drunk, a little sore physically, and confused? She couldn’t stop her mind from replaying events of the night before, dissecting every interaction. 

Amara’s carefully neutral expressions. The way she backed away when Terry came outside to check on her. That fact that Terry didn't leave her alone with Amara long when he noticed them together. Marks slurred words. Terry’s affectionate kisses. Was everything a facade? 

The sound of heavy footsteps broke her trance. She glanced over her shoulder to see Terry, shirtless and groggy, scratching the back of his neck as he approached. 

“Morning,” he grunted sleepily.

“Morning,” Drea replied, forcing a small smile. 

He reached above her grabbing two mugs to pour their coffee and pulled the creamer out of the fridge. She was so deep in thought she couldn’t even hear the last drops of coffee sputtering out from the machine. 

“Hell of a party, huh? I don’t think I’ve been that drunk in years,” Terry laughed, handing her a mug three quarters of the way filled so she’d have room for her favorite cream and sugar.

“You deserved it. Everyone had a great time.”

“You were incredible last night, by the way baby. That speech? Perfect!” Terry took a sip of his coffee, closing his eyes slowly in content as the coffee worked its magic. 

She watched him as he just sat there completely at ease? It was hard to believe Terry would be capable of anything suspicious when he looked so relaxed, so utterly free of concern. Like a man who’d just retired... 

They fell into a silence that was comfortable for him, blissfully unaware of the confusion and doubt swirling within his wife. 

It was at that moment she decided. This is it. 

She decided right then and there to be done with Mark and his bullshit. In over 10 years, her husband never gave her a reason to doubt him and here she was driving herself crazy just because his drunk ass friend said so? 

No.

Enough was enough.

A Week Later 

The past week had been a delicate balancing act for Andrea. On the surface, life with Terry’s retirement was settling into a peaceful rhythm. For the first time in what felt like forever, they woke up together each morning, no more rushed goodbyes or hurried calls squeezed between drills or assignments. 

Terry was home and Andrea was determined to savor every moment, but beneath the surface, as much as she tried to forget, Mark’s words lingered in her mind. A poisonous echo she refused to give life to. She hadn’t confronted Terry, nor had she read or replied to any of Mark’s follow up messages. Instead, she buried herself in creating a routine for their life together. 

Mornings began with shared coffee on their balcony, the harbor stretching out before them like an ever changing painting. They laughed more often, rediscovering the rhythm of living in the same space. Andrea even convinced Terry to join her in pilates and yoga, an experience that had them dying of laughter as Terry struggled to maintain poses Andrea had mastered with ease.  

Still in quiet moments when Terry wasn’t looking, Andrea found herself studying him, watching for cracks, signs, or anything that might confirm or deny the suspicions Mark had planted. She hated this new version of herself, self conscious, suspicious, and guarded. But she couldn’t shake the doubt.

Today, though, she was determined to push past it.

Today was about them. 

Andrea stood in front of her closet, smoothing the soft fabric of a turtle neck dress she hadn’t worn in ages. Its cranberry hue complimented her warm brown skin, and the way it cinched at her waist gave her a boost of confidence. She paired it with simple gold hoops, target shark boot dupes, then checked her reflection in the mirror.  

“Drea” Terry called from the living room, his voice carrying easily through their apartment “You almost ready to go to lunch? I’m starving over here!”

After clipping her cherry charm on her coach purse, Andrea grabbed it and stepped into the living room smiling. Terry’s eyes lit up when he saw her. He was wearing dark Levi’s jeans and a crisp black button down rolled up to his elbows, each cuff pressed with precision . His gold chain glistening subtly at his neck, catching just enough light to draw the eye. 

“You look amazing,” he said, crossing the room to kiss her cheek. 

“Thank you, Handsome” she replied softly, smoothing his shirt collar. “Ready to go?”

They took the short walk through the whipping wind to a bistro situated on the harbor, the warm sun heating their faces between gusts of frigid air. The restaurant was cozy, with open windows framing the water below, and the sound of soft jazz played over the hum of quiet conversations. Their table was dimly lit and tucked into a corner. Andrea sipped on a mimosa while Terry ordered a whiskey neat. 

“To us,” Terry said, raising his glass. “And to finally have time to enjoy life together.”

Andrea clinked her glass to his, smiling even as a small knot of unease tightened in her chest. She took a long sip, the cool drink washing it away and calming her nerves. As their meals arrived, Terry reached across the table to take her hand. 

“You’ve been a little quiet these past couple of days,” he said, his thumb rushing over her knuckles. “Is everything okay?”

Andrea hesitated, the question she’d been avoiding rising to the surface. Her instincts told her to retreat, to keep things light, but the weight of unspoken words between them was growing too heavy. Instead, she decided to share an honest truth about something else. 

“I’ve been adjusting,” she admitted. “It’s… different, not being a military wife anymore. It feels like I’m learning how to be your partner all over again.”

Terry nodded, his expression thoughtful. “I can understand that. I’ve been adjusting too. It’s strange not having a mission to wake up to every day, but honestly, I’ve never been happier. You’re my mission now.”

The sincerity in his voice tugged at Andrea’s heart. She smiled, squeezing his hand. “I think we’re going to be just fine,” she said more to herself than to him.

“We got this baby,” he replied.

“Hey, later on tonight around dinner I told Amara she could stop by so I could look over her Q1 report. I wanted to give you a heads up.”

Andrea winced at the mention of Amara's name but quickly put on a smile, grateful that Terry’s attention was fixed on his plate and not on her.

“That’s fine, honey,” she said, her tone overly sweet to mask her irritation. “You trying to reenlist already?” Her attempt to tease him for missing work made him chuckle.

“No. Not at all,” he said, shoving a fry in his mouth and pausing to chew. “But we’ve been talking about this for a while now, and I think it’s time we really commit to it. You know?”

Andrea raised an eyebrow, a knowing and amused smirk curling on her lips. “And what’s that?”

Seeing Terry nervous was a rare sight, This man, her man, was the embodiment of quiet confidence. But in this moment, seeing him a little unsure made him less militant and more real, more human. She loved it.

“You know,” he murmured, tracing the rim of his glass with his long finger. “Having a baby.”

Andrea sat up a little straighter, a mixture of surprise and warmth settling in her chest as she watched him wrestle with his words.

“It’s just… I’ve been thinking about this a lot. Like, really thinking about it,” he continued, his voice growing more tentative. “And now that I’m home for good, I feel like we’re ready. It’s terrifying, but I know we can do this, Dre!” he said confidently. He paused and glanced up at the ceiling reflecting on his words.

“I mean, when I look at you, like really look at you, I can’t think of why we should wait any longer,” he said, his voice softer now as he clasped his hands together and fiddled with his fingers. 

“You’re so compassionate, and strong, and you’ve been an amazing wife.. I can’t imagine how amazing you’ll be as a mom. But… It's a big step. I just want to make sure we’re both ready for this. I know you’ve been working from home, but it might still be a lot with the baby crying all night, and trying to get them to calm down, and… well… you’d really be stuck with me forever after that.” He pursed his lips, cutting himself off mid rant.

He tried to stay quiet and listen to her response, but he couldn’t help himself, the words just kept spilling out. And Andrea listened intently, her smile growing he waved his hands around and continued yapping away. 

“I’ll recon when we get home… logistically, it’s a lot of groundwork to cover. We’ll need to baby-proof the house, right? Like all the outlets… And I read something about crib safety… Aww man, and there are so many different types of cribs. And then the sleep schedules? Oh shit, the sleep schedules, don’t even get me started on that... We might not sleep for years if we don’t figure that out. Have you heard about sleep training, baby? Some people swear it’s bullshit, but others-”

“Terry” Andrea interrupted with a laugh, unable to hold it in any longer. 

He froze, his ocean blue eyes widening as it set in how much he’d been rambling non-stop. 

“Sorry… It’s just a lot to think about, you know?”

“I know,” Andrea said with a teasing smile “Look at you, all.. flustered.” 

“I am not flustered,” he says with a raised eyebrow now trying to play it cool like he wasn’t just about to lose his mind over the number of crib manufacturers. 

“Yeah, you are, and you’ve really thought about this Terry. Probably more than I have, actually.” She says letting out a small laugh.

“You’re really worked up, huh? I thought I would be the one freaking out but look at you, baby! I can’t believe it,” she teased.

There was a softness in Andrea’s voice as she teased him, but underneath it was still a deep affection. She was used to Terry’s steady control, the way he carried the world on his shoulders without flinching. But in this moment, she saw the crack in his armor, and it made him even more real to her. He was truly home for good and the reminder of their new reality and what their future had in store was unexpectedly endearing. Her smirk faded, the desire to tease replaced by something tender, something that pulled her closer. Love. In these small, unguarded moments, when he was a little unsure, she loved him even more. She leaned in and kissed his cheek, her heart swelling.

“Alright, now..” Terry responded, trying to stifle a smile, “I guess I just.. I want to make sure we’re on the same page and doing this for the right reasons, you know? And I just keep thinking, what if we-”

“Terry,” Andrea interrupted, cutting him off with a gentle smile

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

He scrunched his brows, processing her words slowly.

“Wait… what?”

“I said yes, Terry. Yes, we can start trying for a baby.” her tone was light, still amused by how flustered he was. 

A deep breath escaped him, one he probably didn’t even realize he was holding. His face softened, and his voice quieted, the relief evident in his words.

“I just wanted to make sure-" he started, but then stopped himself. His face softening as he finally looked at her.

Quietly and laced with gratitude he said, "Thank you."

"For saying yes," he clarified simply.

Andrea reached up to gently cup his face and pressed a sweet kiss to his lips. “Of course,” she assured, her voice soft and certain.

“I’m ready for this, Terry. We’re ready.”

As they continued their meal, Andrea allowed herself to fully relax, leaning into the warmth of the moment. For the first time all week, she felt like she could breathe. They lingered at the table long after their plates were cleared, sharing stories, laughing, and stealing small touches. By the time they left the restaurant, Andrea felt lighter, convinced that the life she dreamed of with Terry was not only still within reach, but on it's way to becoming a reality. As they walked back to their apartment, hand in hand, the weight of their discussion settled softly between them, unspoken but understood. She looked up at him as he held the door for her to enter their building, and in that moment, everything felt right. 

Terry leaned against the door frame of their bedroom, arms lightly crossed, with a small smile playing on his lips as he watched his wife sit on the bed, pulling the zipper of her boots down.

Retirement meant he didn’t have to rush to bed, worry about the next mission, checking in with superiors, or making sure the squad had all their gear prepared.

The absence of all pressure was both relieving and unsettling because for the first time since high school he could take a breath without the weight of his unit, his family, his country, and the world on his chest. Andrea had always been the rock in their relationship while he was away, but now, Terry could feel that she was learning how to navigate this shift in their dynamic as well.

The soft orange glow of the afternoon sun illuminated their bedroom highlighting her every move. She slipped off one boot, then the other, and Terry felt an undeniable urge to help. 

“Need a hand?” he asked, his voice low as he approached slowly closing the space between them.

Drea looked up through lashes, a playful gleam in her eyes “Of course.”

“Come here and turn around” 

She stood up and walked toward him. Following his command and turned her back to his chest so he could unzip her dress revealing her new red satin fenty set. 

His voice was a low growl, his eyes heavy and glazed with desire. “This for me?” he asked. 

She didn’t answer with words, but instead nodded, her lips twitching as she fought to hold back a smirk.

His hands found their way to her waist, pulling her closer. He wanted her in every sense. But more than that, this was now a mission, he wanted her to be the mother of his children, and to build a life together that was deeper than just the two of them. 

Andrea’s fingers slid down his neck, her touch soft but possessive, as if she too could feel the responsibility of the commitment they decided to make, the commitment to create something more. Terry couldn’t imagine anything more beautiful than that and the desire to take care of her while she carried his babies sent shivers down his spine. 

“Terry, are you sure about this?” she whispered, her voice was low but steady and he felt the weight of her question. 

“I’m sure,” he breathed out, his words thick with emotion. He leaned closer, his lips brushing against hers.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

Terry sat back, a quiet smile tugging at his lips as he looked at Andrea with feet set in place on either side of his hips and her hands planted firmly on his chest. His hands moved up and down her back in a steady soothing rhythm as she bounced up and down his shaft. 

They’d been each other's first everything, first kiss, first love, first time. They’d explored one another’s bodies so many times it felt like they knew each other inside and out, every scar, every curve, every mole. He knew if she wanted to she could make him bust in seconds, and all he had to do was give her “that look” and she’d be gone off into the stratosphere. 

But something about this time, intentionally trying to conceive, felt completely different. 

It was like they were 16 and starting all over again. Every movement and touch was mesmerizing, like they were discovering something they’d long since memorized. The softness of her skin under his calloused palms rooted him in the moment, where every little thing felt significant.

There was no rushing. As the sun dipped lower, its fading light reflected off her nipple piercings, casting a soft red and pink glow.

Terry gripped her ass and quickly flipped them over, a little faster than intended, earning a soft giggle from Andrea. 

She looked up at him, her eyes sparkling with lust and affection, before pressing a light kiss to his chest, right over his heart.

“I love you,” she whispered 

“I love you,” he murmured against her neck, his voice low and sincere. “..so much, Dre.”

Using one hand to support his weight and the other gripping her waist he rolled his hips slowly, sinking deeper with each thrust. The sound of her slickness filled the air and with each plunge into her sex, he could feel his tip gliding against her cervix. Drea's moans grew louder, raw and throaty, as if they were coming from somewhere deep within her soul. Terry's focus was unwavering, driven by a single obsessive intent, to breed her and make her his in every way possible. He felt that familiar sensation building deep in his stomach, a warmth spreading quickly through his entire body. 

"Baby..." he cooed, placing soft kisses along her shoulder.

She moaned softly, her legs tightening around him, but she didn't speak, her eyes still shut as she lost herself in the moment.

“Andrea.. Look at me now” he said more sternly. 

When her eyes finally blinked open, he gently asked “Are you sure you want this?”

“Yes Daddy!” she shouted, her voice strained as she answered without hesitation.

His rhythm faltered, something about that word ignited a spark in him. Something primal. 

“Daddy, huh?” he said, his voice a little rougher than intended “I didn’t know Daddy sounded so good on me.”

“Oh, it sounds perfect on you” she breathed out 

“Yeah? Ok, mama…” 

“Yes!” she cried out in pleasure, “Let’s make a baby, Daddy” 

Those words were all it took, and Terry released what felt like the heaviest load in the deepest part of her pussy. With every stroke, his love for her seemed to intensify, and they came together gazing at each other through the haze of passion driven intoxication.

With their bodies tangled together, surrounded by disarrayed pillows and damp sheets, he basked in the pure feeling of satisfaction and contentment. They stayed that way for a moment, neither moving, just listening to the sound of each other's breathing and racing heartbeats, until Drea gently tapped at his butt cheek, signaling him to roll over.

“I’ve been doing some research…” Terry mumbled while intentionally keeping his pelvis aligned with hers so he didn’t slip out of her wet folds, gently flipping them over so she could be on top.

“I read something about how I should stay inside you for a bit after to increase our chances…” he said closing his eyes lazy clearly still sensitive to her touch

“Oh yeah?” Drea chucked as she straddled him. His hands instinctively went to her hips as she teasingly rocked back and forth slowly up and down his shaft, tracing patterns on his chest, and savoring the quiet aftermath of their decision. Her soft moans filled the space around them and as he laid there, Terry couldn’t help but think that this was just the beginning. A new chapter starting for the both of them. 

He opened his eyes, gently placed his hand on her stomach, and started rubbing small circles. “Hey baby,” he whispered with a grin

She burst into laughter, unable to hold it in. “We’re probably gonna need to try more than once, baby.” 

“We can try,” he said, tickling her sides for emphasis, “...whenever you want, baby. But I got that super sperm. He’s in there. I know it.” He said, pressing his lips and giving her a confident nod. 

“He!? Oh my God, Terry, please just stop!” she laughed, nearly out of breath from her fit of giggles

His watch beeped alerting him that it was the top of the hour. “Matter fact, I need to make sure he in there good, let me see something…” Using his hand to brace the back of her neck he flipped them over once again laying Andrea down on her back. 

"I got a meeting in a hour. Now that my first procreation tour is complete..." Terry said, his voice trailing off "...It's playtime.

"Let's see how fast I can make you cum again." he added with a mischievous grin

He pulled out, sat up on his knees, and leaned back for a better view. She could feel the cooling sweat from his thighs dripping down the back of her legs; Everything was sticky and from this angle he could see all his precious potential babies getting ready to slide out of her and onto the mattress. 

Gravity was a bitch. 

Using the head of his dick, he scooped up what he could and slid back into her, mixing her cream with his seed as he pumped in and out. Terry was determined; they were making a baby today. 

He studied every feature on her face as she moaned in pleasure, like he was seeing her for the first time, she was beyond beautiful. Truly. Inside and out. This new phase of their life was the beginning of something so sweet he thought. So many new adventures they had to look forward to without the daily stress and worry that he might not make it home.

He couldn’t help but wonder which traits their little bundle of joy would inherit from their mother. He wanted his son to look just like her. He used his right hand to push her thigh to her chest and his left thumb to circle her clit, using any of their cum that did manage to seep out as natural lubricant. Terry's gaze was focused on her lips, he locked in on the subtle difference her top lip slightly darker than the bottom a feature he always admired. Andrea bit her bottom lip, arching her back as her eyes squeezed shut. That's when he heard a soft word echo across the room.

“Oh” 

He blinked, confused. Then knitted his brows together. He knows he heard it. Clear as day, but her lips didn’t move. Terry knew he gave good dick. But telepathy? This was next level shit right here.

Andrea continued nibbling on her bottom lip, her breath coming in shallow gasps and he started drilling inside her steadily.

That’s when Terry noticed her out of the corner of his eye. Amara hovered in the doorway watching like she was trying to memorize every detail, her eyes wide and her mouth slightly agape. A quiet realization hit him. She's the one who spoke.

His curiosity peaked as he wondered how long she’d been standing there watching them. His gaze drifted to her feet, her crisp white shoes giving away the otherwise dark silhouette. His eyes slowly traveled upward as he took in her figure from the ground up. When his eyes reached her face, they locked with hers for a moment while he continued rolling his hips and thrusting in and out and in…

“fuuuccckkk” he exhaled, his eyes fluttering shut as he threw his head back in sheer ecstasy when Andrea clenched around him.

She was nearing her next orgasm and completely unaware of her husband’s work wife standing in the threshold of their bedroom staring. When he opened his eyes Amara was still locked in place observing, it was odd the way she watched them with unnerving focus, it was more strange that his dick was still hard and he couldn’t bring himself to pull out.

When their eyes met once again, Amara dropped her phone and the 3 ring binder she was holding. It smacked the floor with a loud slap. Opening her eyes wide with shock, Andrea’s head snapped toward noise. Shows over. 

“OH MY GOD!”

Drea jolted up using all the strength in her core to force herself into a forward crunch so she could straddle Terry’s hips. She locked her arms around his waist and buried her face in Terry’s neck; he twitched involuntarily inside her. There was no way there were finishing this round but he didn't want to stop, he still felt her throbbing around his member and her warm breath heating his neck. Damn.

“Sorry! Shit- Sorry!” Amara stammered, looking at her feet now, clearly flustered.

She crouched down awkwardly to grab the binder, fumbling with her phone on the floor unable to pick it up on the first try. Terry stayed on his knees holding Drea close to his chest and felt around for a sheet to wrap around them. 

“You gotta be fuckin kidding me,” Drea mumbled out against his neck.

When Amara finally got a grip on her phone she dashed out the room, pulling on the door handle to get it to close, and disappeared quickly down the hallway like she needed to talk to a man about a horse.

Once the door slammed shut Andrea looked at him, still processing what had just happened, her face flushed and eyes narrowed. Terry removed the blanket and placed his hand on her back to lower her down on the bed. He pulled himself gently out of her and gravity was back at it again. What a waste.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, “I didn’t expect that.”

The bed shifted below from Andrea standing up “I’ll.. uh… I’ll be in the bathroom,” she said with a nod toward the shower.

There was no masking the confused expression on her face as she slowly walked away. Terry wasn’t sure how to feel. He was relieved that Andrea hadn’t said anything more, especially with Amara still in their home, but he could sense the tension building in her too. That didn’t sit right with him. Annoyed by the interruption, the difficult conversation he’d need to have with Drea, and the work waiting for him with Mara, he swung his legs off the bed and grabbed his Levi’s and wife beater from the floor. After dressing quickly, he made his way to the living room to go over Amara’s report. He wanted to get it done as fast as possible.

As he approached the common area he stopped by the kitchen to wash his hands at the sink, it was probably best not to get sweat and cum all over official government documentation. He could see Amara sitting on the couch fiddling and organizing papers that must’ve jumped out of place when her binder fell.

“Sorry you had to see all that” he yelled out from behind the island. 

“I was kinda expecting you to knock,” he said with a soft chuckle trying to make light of the awkward situation as he grabbed a paper towel to dry his hands. 

She didn’t respond immediately, once she had everything sorted back into place and snapped the rings of the binder closed, she stood up. 

“Why the fuck would you ask me to come here Terry!?” she spat venomously.

Terry paused, his face momentarily blank as he processed what she’d just said. Then, as if a switch had flipped, his expression darkened, and his handsome features contorted into a fierce scowl.

Menacing.

Lethal.

If looks could kill she’d be on her way to the morgue.

“Why are you talking to me like you just caught me cheating on you Amara?” He whispered back harshly, lowering his neck so he could look her directly in her eyes.

Just as she opened her mouth to speak, he kept going “I was with my wife, you here early as shit might I add, and you just let yourself in like you own the place? Huh? That key was supposed to be for emergencies only Amara, I mean what’s good with you my nigga!?"

Before she could respond, he pressed on with a very important question,

"Who. The. Fuck. Are. You. Talking. To!?” he gritted out, his voice growing louder with each word.

Retirement had already started to chip away at his legendary composure and unwavering demeanor. Pleasantries were gone. Pokerface be damned. He was beyond pissed and she knew it. To avert his gaze and his sharp arched eyebrow, she dropped her head and stared at her hands taking a deep breath before replying.

“I know she’s your real wife, Terry. But I miss you!" she whined.

"I asked for your help on this report but I thought..” She trailed off ‘..I thought since you have all this free time now that you’re retired that you might want to spend some of it with me.”

“Mara, what are you-”

“Actually, I’m going to go,” she interrupted. “This was silly and I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt and I definitely didn't realize you’d be 'that' busy if I came by early.”

Amara didn’t wait for a response. She picked up her things, turned on the heels of her crisp AF1s and walked out, leaving Terry standing in the middle of the room. 

From the shower Andrea watched their exchange unfold on her phone from their security camera as the hot water trickled down her body. It was as if Amara’s words hung in the air like smoke. Terry stood there motionless, staring at the door as she walked out. When the door clicked shut behind her, he let out a long sigh and plopped down on the couch holding his head in his hands. Through the screen her eyes stayed locked on him and she observed him using his flattened palms to run his hands forward over his little waves, focusing on the rhythm to ground himself. 

Her hands trembled as she clicked her phone shut, she was right back to where she was the night of the party. Scared, uncertain, and questioning everything. Those words echoing again in her thoughts:

They’ve been fucking. 

She had successfully buried everything Mark said deep, she trusted Terry, she believed in him. But now? The air was once again filled with doubt. 

“This shit not normal," she muttered to herself.

She could feel the weight of what she’d just seen settle in. Drea couldn’t keep pretending her feelings of doubt weren’t there no matter how much she wanted to have faith in Terry. So, this was just the start. If she wanted the truth, she’d have to dig deeper. And this time, she wouldn’t stop until she found it.

A/N: This was my first attempt at a little smut scene. Imma need my OG writing girlies out there to host a masterclass because I'd like to register asaptually! I think I got one last chapter in the chamber to finish this one out. K. Thanks. Byeeeeee 🏃🏾‍♀️💨

tags: @alldthoughtsinmyhead @blackpinup22 @ticalsstallion @enchantedillumination @j0joworld @blackerthings @novahreign @onherereading @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @ashanti-notthesinger @kumkaniudaku @idyllicbarb @alonahh @ovohanna24 @skvrpion @fakxmbj @kindofaintrovert @notapradagurl7 @zillasvilla @hotmessexxpress @secretlifeoofmarpessa @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @nayaesworld @solunaseira @persethegawd @liquorlaughslove

[nayaesworld]

Rugged Whiskey

Part 3

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Warnings: murder, hematolagnia, smut, knife play

Terry Richmond X OC!Khia

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Khia squealed and ran around her kitchen from Terry as the champagne spilled from the bottle. A few days of planning and mapping out their plan had them jumping with excitement. The two were enjoying a small celebratory meal before they went together to search for their victim. The sun would set on Joel Castille for the final time tonight, and Khia was excited about it. He was a drunk who couldn’t understand the word no and had become a thorn in her side as she tried to do her job. She was used to drunk belligerent men, yes, but when she had to repeat herself as often as she did to Joel, she would be happy to clean the streets of low level scum.

“You really wanna watch me do it…it won’t be a pretty sight mama.”

“Yes Terry I told you that already, I wanna watch everything…and what do you mean it won’t be a pretty sight? People literally create whole documentaries based on murder…it’s art.”

“Sure all that blood won’t bother you, miss pretty in pink?” Terry raised a thick brow at her and nodded at her baby pink satin sleep set.

“Well I won’t have on pink, I’ll have on black sooo..” she said matter-of- factly.

“Yes you will, I got you a little surprise…since you wanna be front and center so bad.” Terry stepped away toward her living room and pulled a small pink gift bag from behind a couch pillow. He handed it to her and watched her as she threw him a playful suspicious glare. She quickly threw out the tissue paper and gasped loudly.

“Oh my god this is soo damn cutesy…I wanna put it on right now!” He watched her gush over the pink ski mask as she fitted it on over her sleek pressed hair.

“You look so sexy… I wouldn’t even fight back if you came in my house at night looking like this, gimme a kiss..lil crazy ass.” His plump lips suckled and smacked against hers, tonight would be a well needed bonding experience for them; he was so ready and willing to prove himself to her in any way she needed.

“Soo your guy Joel Castille..you fucked him?” Terry squinted his eyes and studied her face carefully,

“What..eww no but he wanted too, that’s how I got his address.He’s not even my type.”

“And what is your type exactly?” Terry watched her place a finger under her chin in faux thought and lightly swatted her butt.

“Hmm let’s see…6’3 men with green eyes and big muscles that do what I say, you know anyone that fits the description?”

“Mhm and so do you , now let’s go…we got a schedule to stick to.”

Midnight was the focal point of the night for them and Terry stood off to the side mesmerized as Khia slipped the black catsuit over her shapely body. It clung to her skin in ways that had him internally holding himself back from fucking her up and down her room. She was pure ecstasy in human form and being drunk off her was a constant for him. Black leather boots turned her into a sexy ass catwoman and Selina Kyle couldn’t hold a light to her.

Terry made a show of picking out the weapon of choice tonight. And ultimately settled on an 8 inch serrated knife. It was quick and to the point with easy cleanup. A few zip ties,a gag, and a tarp completed their list so they headed for his truck. Joel lived a little ways from Khia’s home in the quiet country. His closest neighbor seemed to be a half mile up the road so their plans of luring him out of his house were still on.

__

Light work was made of tricking Joel out of his home and now he sat gagged on his knees in front of them both. The rushing river behind them drowning out the gagged cries and groans. Khia buzzed beside him with excitement and she watched his every move, watching and waiting to see how he would draw blood first. Terry circled the man, ready to pounce like a lion. Fists gripped at his side as he eyed the man, a man who wanted his girl, a man who had been harassing her, a man he planned to carve like a pumpkin. His hands grabbed Khia’s wrist and he twirled her in front of Joel.

“This is what you wanted…hmm? This what had you taking your drunk ass down to Sapphire every damn night?” Terry let a palm come down on Khia’s ass and gripped it slowly making a show off gripping and groping her supple body.

He watched Joel’s eyes widen in anger and he mumbled angrily behind the gag. Oh so he thought he actually had a chance with her? Delusional.

“You thought she wouldn’t tell her man that some bum wouldn’t leave her alone at her job… you thought you would skate?” Terry shook his head and a laugh erupted from deep with him. He would let this man get no words, he didn’t want his voice and words ever gracing Khia’s ears again. The star of the show finally made its appearance, the serrated knife felt electric in his palm and he gripped the handle with unyielding force.

“Khia baby this is for you… for you to never again doubt the extent of my love and care for you. For you to trust me completely, we all we got.” He watched her wipe away a tear and he pressed a kiss to her forehead, sealing it.

The knife was plunged into his chest. Jagged edges slicing and cutting through cloth and flesh, Terrys eyes gleamed at the sight and slowly pulled it out eyeing the gush of blood that flowed behind it. Khia’s hand gripped his bicep tightly and her hot wet mouth sucked and licked at the shell of his ear.

“Daddy please…more blood, I want you to cut him here next. He’ll bleed more.” Terry watched her point at his wrist and grinned evilly. She wanted slit wrist and that’s what she’d get. Her breathy moans coaxed him further and further. Close and closer to draining the kneeled man of his life force.

Quick flicks of Terry's hand made crimson flow again. Left and right wrist slit and draining slowly. There would be no more Joel Castille, he would become a former, a notch on both of their belts. Their first kill together. A slit throat sealed his fate and brought forth something carnal between the two. This energy was dark and new, yet it felt balanced between them.

The body laid rolled tightly in the deep blue tarp, limbs zip tied together tightly. Terry eyed Khia as she slipped off her left boot reaching down into it. Her eyes gave off this feigned innocence that made his dick rock hard. He watched her bring forth a small pocket knife. It’s silver blade shimmering in the night.

“I thought that maybe we could have our own fun daddy…promise to be gentle?” Terry felt like his head was spinning right off his head. She always said the most painfully beautiful things to him, she knew the control she had over him.

“Fuck baby, you gonna let me carve up this this pretty soft skin? Let me put my name on it for real?” She sauntered over placing the small knife into his palm, giving him full creative control.

“Yess… I want this with you. I want you to mark me… do whatever you want.” Terry let his fingers tangle roughly in her hair as he pulled her roughly to meet his lips. He was hungry for her and couldn’t slow his rushed movements.He had removed his black denim jacket and placed it on the plush grass beneath Khia. He was kneeled over her, fondling her heavy breast, fingers plucking and squeezing the plump nipples.

He slid the knife slowly over her hard nipples bottom lip sucked into his mouth in intense concentration. He had plans of cutting her out of her tight catsuit slowly but surely, a well put together act of his non existent patience. He didn’t know what would happen when he sliced into her supple skin and the anticipation lit a fire deep inside him.

His mouth was placed over hers in a deep feverish kiss, tongue deep in her hot mouth exploring and tussling with hers. Terry let his free hand pinch her nose, allowing her only source of air to come from her mouth… and yet he controlled that airway too. Anytime she attempted to pull in a large gust of air his plump lips covered hers again cutting off that airflow.

“Tell me you love me and I’ll let you breathe.”He watched her closely and felt her nails sink into the skin of his arm, piercing his skin. A groan slid from his lips and he looked down at the small crescent slits on his arm, blood slowly dotting out of the small wounds. His teeth sank into her bottom lip and drew blood from it causing her to yelp and writhe beneath him.

“We can do this all night…now tell me you love me, or I’ll bite it again.” He lowered his lips onto hers again and the metallic taste of her blood met his tongue. If Terry had been a vampire Khia’s blood would be his drug of choice and he would stay fat and engorged on it.

“I love you..fuck I love you I swear I swear!” Her professed love had gained her breathing back from Terry.

“Now stay still and let daddy work…I love you more.” The pocket knife glided slowly past her belly and down to her hips, and Terry swiftly slit a hole into her catsuit near her inner thigh, exposing the soft flesh and her warm pussy to the windy night air. He sucked at the skin roughly watching as it turned red beneath his tongue, and when a small hickey formed there he let the knife glide over it watching her finch from the cold steel.

Terry had plans for what he wanted to mark onto her skin and they had talked briefly earlier that day about gifting each other with cute marks on their skin. As he started to puncture the skin in her inner thigh she began to kick and flail, throwing him off his game.

“Terry, I don't want it…Noo I don't want your name on me.” Terry wasn’t fazed though, he knew what this was. She wanted to act disgusted by the act so that he would force her into it, another sneaky way of getting him to rough her up.

“Yes you do you feigning for this shit. You my slut…look at the type of shit that makes this pussy drip..nasty little bitch.” Her pussy was spilling clear sticky liquid all over his hand, and her erect clit peeked out at him from behind her puffy lips.

“ Move again and this juicy ass thigh won’t be the only thing sliced tonight.” He watched her shake her head as she sucked lightly on her finger.

__

The letter ‘T’ and a tiny heart had been inscribed into her skin and lightly wrapped with gauze to heal. Afterwards Terry had laid down and let her sculpt a ‘K’ and a little star on his side just above his ribcage without so much as a flinch. The act of carving the heartfelt signs and symbols into each others skin had them doing enough fucking to wake the dead…no pun intended.

Khia was riding him like a bull with no saddle. Her hips grinded against his pelvis roughly, trying to stuff inch after inch into herself. She looked like an angel. Head thrown back and hands gripping his chest like he’d disappear if she let him go. He felt her pussy squeezing and convulsing for the second time as she gushed all over him. This was good pussy. Pussy primed and ready for what he had to offer. He flipped them over and his hand immediately went to work on her sopping little cunt.

“You watched daddy do some bad things tonight…you ever gonna tell anybody about it?” He slid a finger into her slowly watching her face.

“No daddy I promise… fuck them it’s only us, they don’t get you like I do.” She moaned and her bottom lip poked out slightly.

“Of course you won’t..because how are you so sure I won’t do the same to you. You just know this good ass cat you got gonna save you regardless..don’t you?” A second finger entered her and Terry was feeling manic.

“You wouldn’t dare… I own you just as much as you own me, what bitch would love you for who you truly are.. huh baby? Monsters only thrive in the midst of other monsters baby.” Terry let and third and final finger stretch her out and his free hand gripped her face roughly.

“Mmm monsters indeed… that’s why your pussy is so wet while I’m fingering you next to a dead man. You like this shit…it makes you feel alive. Bet you breathe a little better knowing you don’t share oxygen with him anymore.” His fingers were moving fast inside of her. His palm smacking her pussy as it moved in and out at a rapid pace.

“This shit can get as sick as you want it to baby, I don’t have any limits. You ask I do. You demand I move, period!” He was kicking his pants and boxers off quickly, his head would explode soon if he didn’t sink into her intoxicating fuck hole.

“Daddy you look so pretty when you kill…you were so concentrated and you made me cum a little when you slit his throat. That’s your best form…killing.” Terry pulled his fingers from her and stuffed them into her mouth, she had a real way with words. She sounded so poetic talking about the darkest shit with a face that looked like she wouldn’t sway a fly.

“When I fold you up don’t do any moving…you hear me, just lay here and take it. Let daddy release all this shit.” He moved to smooth his hands under her thighs, pushing them into her chest. He wanted to get in deep and stay there.

His purpling tip was sensitive as it pushed into her tight entrance. He was trying to pace himself with slow strokes but the sensation of his back being scratched up and the yanking sensation on his dick had him tucking his face into her neck with a tongue in his cheek. He had her filled to the brim with veiny pulsing dick and a hand covered her mouth to smother out her loud screams of pleasure. Terry turned his face to hers and lapped at the tears that slowly rolled down her face, their salty taste propelling his hips forward.

“Khia mm..girl fuck fuck, this pussy got a grip on me. Can daddy nut in this pussy tonight…hmm put all them plan b’s to use?” They had an unnecessary amount of them in his bathroom that needed to be used, and the day they didn’t do their job..? well they’d be welcoming baby Richmond.

“Already, you can’t hold out just a little longer daddy? Just a little while longer… please just a little longer..a little rougher.” Terry was doing his best to bite back his orgasm and the loud smacks of skin were dizzying and yet he held off to fuck into her and choke her out like a ragdoll.

“Ohh you just wanna lay hear and be fucked and slutted out… I got you spoiled princess? You just lay here and let me pipe you down…and you so gorgeous, daddy’s little pretty bitch.” Her eyes rolled into her head and her open mouth was open game for the spit that left his mouth.

It sounded like a splashpad between them. White cream decorating their brown skin and wild hearts beating in tandem. This was true freedom for them. No one to judge them for how rugged and downright dirty they got with each other, no unsolicited advice or opinions on their relationship. She gave him the ok and Terry felt like he was releasing on a loop as his dick spurted shit after shot into her.

Crushed under his weight Khia raked her nails over the fresh scratches on his back and his skin got goosebumps all over. He cleaned them of as best as he could out there in the open country and pulled her up from the ground.

“I’m glad you came into Sapphire that night…everything changed for the better, I’m coming to your job next sexy.” She placed his heavy jacket over her chilled skin and walked with Terry, latex gloves tight on their hands.

“Ready baby… one..two..three!” They watched as the heavy body splashed into the river, cinder blocks pulling it further and further beneath the deep dark waves.

“Oh wow that was soo exciting…I can’t believe he thought I liked him. One look at you definitely told him he wasn’t my type.” Terry let his hands slither around her waist as he led her back to his truck.

“Mm mm you’re too much woman for any man besides me…they wouldn’t survive a night with you. I could definitely see you poisoning a man because he left your little beauty products unorganized.”

“Hey that’s a pet peeve of mine, you touch it you better put it back how you found it.“ she pointed a finger at him and grabbed his hand to step up into his truck. If it was one thing he had learned about Khia it was that she loved organization, everything had its own nook and cranny and it had better be exactly as she left it.

“Yes mam…though I’d rather you put a pillow over my face or something. At least when you lifted it up I’d be looking dead at you laughing.” She poked at his side as they shared a laugh, bright headlights pulling them out of the darkness and back towards the city.

“I’d sit something else on your face..fuck that pillow. You eat ass don’t you?…and don’t lie.”

“I’ll eat your ass..emphasis on your..I’ll stick this tongue anywhere you want me to, I never cared.”

“You’re a nasty nasty man Tj…nasty niggas deserve financial compensation for their work.”

“You plan on compensating some more Miss princess? Perhaps with dick down your throat this time?” He threw a raised brow her way before focusing back on the road.

“Mhmh and then some…now hurry and get us home man, I’m itchy.”

Terry put the pedal through the floor and sped home itching to enjoy part two of their escapade in the shower.

__

A/N: * pours glass of wine and closes robe tightly* what yall staring at?😟

@keehendrixx @ovohanna24 @venusincleo @grlsbstshot @yassbishimvintage @avoidthings @pocketsizedpanther @writingsbytee @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx @simplyzeeka @zillasvilla @blowmymbackout @kimuzostar @playgurlxoxo @kumkaniudaku @megamindsecretlair @theereina @keyaho @brattyfics @hotgrlcece @henneseyhoe @starcrossedxwriter @uzumaki-rebellion @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @blackerthings @ms-mosley-ifunastyyy @invisiblegiurl @blackmoonchilee @talkswithdesi @notc0rtez @becauseimswagman1 @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @kaylaahisthebestest- @mysteryuz @tvchi @vivaalenaa @23jammy

#aaron pierre #terry richmond #black oc #black woman oc # rebel ridge

[blackmissfrizzle]

Dracarys

Pairings: Dragon Shifter!Terry Richmond x black!reader

Summary: The reader just wants to be a dragon rider for a bit and Terry is not up for it.

Warnings: None really. This might be the most PG thing I've written. Its fluff and right now the reader and Terry are not in a relationship, just friends.

A/N: This is part of a series of one-shots, rather than a linear series. Some fics will be multiple parts and some will not. This one might have a part 2.

Check out my old ass work here -> My Masterlist

“No, absolutely not.”

“Why not?”

“Because I respect myself.”

“I respect you too.”

“Not if you’re asking me to do that.”

“Don’t you love me? Your bestest friend in the whole wide world.”

“Bestest is not a word.”

Terry Richmond was absolutely infuriating. First, he wouldn’t let you ride him and scream dracarys and now he’s correcting your grammar. This is what you get for being friends with an old ass dragon shifter. Where was the YN dragons at?

“Shut the fuck up, Terry.” You stomped behind him, not catching the little smirk that graced his face.

“Oooh, such unladylike language. You know what your mama would do if she caught you cussing like that.”

“Good thing, my mama ain’t here!” How did you, the kinda silly, bend a couple of rules kind of girl end with the strait-laced, strict boy best friend? Probably had to do with him being a couple of centuries old. He must’ve been really lonely. Now he was never getting rid of you.

It took a slow jog for you to catch up to him and smack him behind his head. Terry whipped his head towards you and instead of those stormy green eyes you were met by black slits. “That stopped scaring me months ago. Try something new.” You waved him off, unaffected by his reptilian eyes.

Terry grunted and kept walking. “Why is this so important to you?”

“Because it would be cool, and I can be like Danerys or Rhaynera. But the black version of them.”

The only change in his face was a slightly raised eyebrow. If you didn’t know Terry well, you wouldn’t be able to decipher his expression. Right now, this was, ‘I’m gonna correct her ass’ face. “Isn’t there a couple of black Targaryrens in the show?”

You jumped up and down in his face. “I knew you liked watching House of the Dragon! Yeah, they’re from Corlys’ line.”

“The old dread head that never listens to  his snow bunny?”

“THE QUEEN THAT NEVER WAS! RIP to a real one. Nigga, you really do be paying attention.” You were tickled pink. Every Sunday night when you drugged Terry to watch HOTD, the man always acted like he had something better to do.

A minute quirk of his mouth let you know he was amused and not really annoyed with you. “It’s one of the more accurate depictions of dragons, Personality wise at least.” The reactions and commentary of Seasmoke toying with that knight was the best. Terry did have to agree that dragons and cats has similar temperament to a degree,

“I thought of you more like Smaug, greedy and grumpy.”

The low rumble let you know to get your knees to your chest or duck. More than on one occasion, Terry blew fire in your direction. He literally lit a fire under your ass. “Okay, maybe not Smaug. Maybe more like Toothless.” You couldn’t help yourself and egged him on.

“A cartoon dragon?!” He roared.

A huge grin appeared as you ducked under the stream of fire. Haha! A reaction, finally!

“Now, I’m never letting you ride me.” He crossed his arms, making his muscles just *pop*.  God, dragon God, whatever higher power really took their time with this man. What a shame he wasn’t interested. The man or dragon was searching for his mate and that was not you.

“Your loss, big boy.” You patted his chest. “I could’ve rocked your world!” You whined your hips to the music in your head.

A charge of heart and maybe head (lower head), made Terry give in. “Fine,” He sighed, shifting into his dragon. The North Carolian mountains provided the perfect cover. He could cruise the sky without being detected. Also, if needed he possessed the ability to become invisible. A gift from helping a witch long ago.

Giggles and a huge smile consumed you. “I knew you couldn’t tell me no. Now don’t be going fast or trying to throw me off. I know how you like to play too much.” You kissed a scale on his neck.

Of course, he couldn’t tell you no. You were his mate after all and he would do anything to make you happy, even if he felt like a fool.

[its-time-to-write]

three times ‘cause i’ve waited my whole life

I am apparently incapable of writing anything short. This has no plot. I think the only warnings are like swearing and innuendo. It is literally just Jamie and the reader being in love. I cannot stress enough how little plot this has. Enjoy.

three times ‘cause I’ve waited my whole life It’s one of Richmond’s biggest games. They’re facing Man City on their turf, an away game, and it’s a big deal.

It’s not important in that it really matters to their status in the premier league, but important because it’s Man City. Jamie has thrown himself completely into training, so you rarely see him except to eat dinner and then fall asleep, his arms around your waist as you watch tv, fingers combing through his hair. He’s awake before you are, but as soon as you hear him switch on the bathroom light, you make your way downstairs to make him breakfast. The team nutritionist had a strict diet for him, one modified by Roy to account for all the extra training. You rub sleep from your eyes as you brew a pot of tea, waiting for Jamie to come downstairs.

Arms snake around you as you wait at the stove for the tea.“You don’t have to do this,” Jamie says, kissing your neck. You smile and reach back to him.

“I know,” you reply, “It’s just the only time I really get to see you.”

Jamie pulls away and turns you around. You see that he’s frowning.

“I haven’t been a good boyfriend recently, have I?” he asks.

You smile, lacing your arms around his neck. “Jamie. This is just a part of life. You have a big game, you disappear for a while, I miss you and I adjust. You finish, win or lose, and we’re back. I knew what I was signing up for.”

He puts his hands on your wrists. “Yeah, but, like, we’re supposed to be talking to each other and shit. And I’m so tired all the time that I can’t think of anything to say. I also’ve been a shit listener. Can’t even remember what we talked about yesterday.”

You sigh, move his hands back to your waist, and then reach up to smooth the furrow in his brow.

“Remember when I had all that extra work last month and ended up working 60 hours a week because of everything that had to be done? I was up late every night, and all you did was bring me food and kiss me, then you left me alone. I think the longest we were together was when you let me sit with my legs on your lap for two hours. I didn’t hear you complaining.”

“Yeah but-”

You cut him off: “Jamie. It’s just life right now. It’s not forever. It’s ok.”

He looks like he has more to say, but is interrupted by the kettle whistling. You give him a quick kiss and then point to his breakfast on the counter. You sit on the kitchen island while he eats, with your head on his shoulder until Roy comes.

—

Here’s the thing; no one knows you and Jamie are together. Sure, Roy knows. But Jamie loves Roy. Keeley knows. But Jamie said you’d love Keeley. (You did). Ted and Beard know, but only because they saw you two walking around the Richmond green late, late at night. (What they were doing on the Richmond green that late is beyond you, but hey). It wasn’t long after that that Jamie put a picture of you two up in his locker, so then all of AFC Richmond knew. But you weren’t public public. You had yet to show up in a tabloid or be seen with Jamie at a game or public event. You went to his games, absolutely, but you stayed in the stands, not the box.

He always got you a spot as close to the field as possible, but you would always meet up with Keeley and Rebecca after games to rendezvous somewhere else later. 

You don’t mind. It doesn’t feel like Jamie is ashamed of you, especially because the people he cares about know. But you also know that you can handle it, and if he wants to go public and kiss you in the stands after a win, you would be ok with that. (You might be more than ok with that).

But as it is, no one knows about you. He knows where you stand on it, so the ball’s in his court. It’s been a year of this, but you just wonder how long it’s going to last.

—

Finally, finally it’s the week of the game. You had been staying in Manchester with Jamie’s mum, which was absolutely terrifying at first. It was not your first time meeting her, just your first time staying with her without Jamie present. You left a day before the team, so when they arrived Jamie sneaked away to come visit. You are sitting in comfortable silence on his mum’s porch looking up at the night sky, when he turns to you and says, “do you love me?”

You’re taken a little aback. “What kind of question is that?” you say. “Of course I love you.”

Jamie’s forehead is all scrunched up again, like it was that early morning. “What if I fucked my leg so badly I could never play football again?”

You laugh. “Not sure if you’ve noticed babe, but I’m not really a big football person. I’m more of a you person, so I guess there’s some overlap.”

Jamie is still weirdly nervous. “What if I play football till I’m forty, and you barely see me like it’s been? What if I’m always on the road and always training and all we get are dinners and shitty 3am breakfasts?”

He’s removed his arm from your shoulders at this point and you shiver, puffing out a breath into the cold air. He notices without saying a word and drapes his jacket around you.

“Jamie,” you reply slowly, trying to formulate your thoughts, “where is this all coming from? You know I love you. We’ve been together for a year, and this has never been an issue before.” As you’re speaking, you’re seized by a sudden, terrible thought: “Are you breaking up with me?”

The words tumble out so fast, you’re not sure he hears you until he’s looking at you, aghast. 

“No, are you breaking up with me?”

“No!” you reply. “But you’re acting all weird, and we’ve been together for an entire year and that’s the longest you’ve dated anyone and I just thought that maybe this was your way of letting me know gently that you’re over me.”

Your heart feels like it’s beating out of your chest.

Jamie breathes out a sigh of relief. “Oh. No. I’m not ending things. I want to be with you forever. I just get all freaked out in me head before games like this, and it’s been fuckin weird coming home, and I just want to win, you know, so that way all this time away is worth it.” He pulls you close to him again and you can feel his heartbeat slowing down to a normal pace, in sync with your own. 

You sit there till his mum comes out to remind him that it’s time to go get some rest, and it’s not until you’re half asleep in Jamie’s childhood bed that your mind replays his words:

I want to be with you forever.

—

It’s game day. You send Jamie a quick love you! text and then slip into your Jamie Tartt jersey. It’s from one of his old kits so it’s a little worn, but you always put it into his laundry pile so it comes out of the wash smelling like him. It’s not something anyone would notice, but you know, and it makes you smile. You get to be in the stands and know that Jamie Tartt loves you and you love him, and at the end of the day he’s the one you get to hold. You give yourself a shake, and open your phone to figure out where you’re meeting Keeley.

—

“And Richmond wins, 3-2 with a smashing goal by number 9 himself, Jamie Tartt!”

You’re screaming and jumping in the stands, overwhelmed by the fact that we won, we won, we won! The Richmond team are piling onto each other, Dani on Isaac’s back, Sam and Jan Maas jumping up and down like kids. You lose sight of Jamie in the mix.

“Well Arlo, it looks like Richmond has once again, exceeded all of our low expectations.”

“That’s right Chris, all thanks to Jamie Tartt’s brilliant goal. Looks like he’s having a good time celebrating with the Richmond lads. Wonder what they’ll get up to tonight? But what’s this? It looks like Tartt has broken away from his teammates and is running to the stands! He’s stopped in front of a fan and it looks like he is kissing a very lucky Richmond fan full on the mouth!”

“Have you ever been so caught up in a moment that you’ve made out with a stranger, Arlo?”

“Can’t say that I have, Chris. Can’t say that I have.”

It all happens so fast, that you don’t even know how to process it. One moment you can’t find Jamie and the next he is leaping over the stands, catching you in his arms, and kissing you in front of the whole stadium as if no one else is around. When you finally pull away, breathless, he takes your hand and helps you hop over the wall onto the pitch. Not usually allowed, but you suppose they’ll let it slide for football’s golden boy. AFC Richmond has caught up to Jamie, and you’re all on the field, screaming your heads off out of the sheer joy of winning.

—

“You’re coming tonight, yeah?” Isaac asks you as you wait for Jamie by the team bus. It’s the day after the Man City game, and you’re back in Richmond with a plan to hit the town yet again, as though the night before wasn’t enough for them. (You actually wouldn’t know, because you were in a very nice hotel room with a certain striker).

“Yeah, you know the only reason we invited him anywhere is in the hopes that you’ll finally be able come along,” Colin adds.

Any story of Richmond’s win had a somewhat fuzzy picture attached of Jamie kissing you in the stands with some variation of the title “Tartt’s mystery girl.”

You laugh. “Yes, we’ll be there. It’ll be nice to actually be out and about with you guys. Family dinners are fun, but there’s more to life.”

Once you found out that Jamie’s whole team knew you existed, you made him invite them over for dinner once a month. It’s one of your favorite things, especially because they all bring food to share. When it’s warm you do pool parties and when it’s cold you play bracket uno. It was nice to meet Jamie’s family, whether he’ll admit that’s what they are or not.

“You ready, babe?” Jamie asks as he slings his arm around you.

“BYE TED!” you yell. “Ok. Now I’m ready.”

— 

Sam closed his restaurant special for you all, and turned it into like a private club. You say like because it is, at its core, a restaurant. However, under Isaac’s supervision and creative design, he apparently has transformed Ola’s through rearranged furniture, dimmed lighting, and music into a place where AFC Richmond can celebrate their win without feeling crowded by strangers. You’re secretly grateful, because clubs are not really your scene. You’ll get all dressed up, sure, but you never know what to do with yourself once you’re there. 

Speaking of getting dressed up, you were feeling yourself. You had a light blue mini dress, with an asymmetrical neckline and a single puffed sleeve. It was more a-line than bodycon, but hey. You like a little bit of a twirl when you spin. Your absolute favorite part though was that you were wearing two-inch silver block heels, with straps around your ankles. The dress plus the shoes made your legs look magical. 

You and Jamie are in the bathroom getting ready, you fixing your makeup and him fixing his hair. He half-turns to you and points to his hair with a questioning look. “Lookin’ good,” you smile, and he smiles back.

“Oh, babe,” he says, tweaking his hair one final time, “I left my sunglasses back at the locker room, and I was wonderin’ if you’d be ok getting them with me before we head to the party? I just don’t want Bumbercatch stealing them.”

“Why would Bumbercatch steal them?” you ask.

Jamie shrugs. “Something about ‘no name, fair game.’ That’s how Jan Maas lost his favorite socks.” 

You shudder. Why Bumbercatch would want Jan Maas’ dirty old socks, you have no idea. They must be really amazing.

You reply, “Yeah sure, I hate being too early to things anyway,” as Jamie absentmindedly kisses you on the forehead with a “thanks babe,” as he heads downstairs.

—

You don’t live far from the Richmond pitch, so you’re walking across the dark parking lot in no time.

“Thanks for coming with me,” Jamie says.

He’s swinging your hands as you walk. He looks nice, the sleeves of his cream shirt rolled up. Nice pants, nice shoes. Nice ass. 

“Yeah, of course,” you say, momentarily distracted by the fact that this man is going to get laid tonight. 

“No, I mean you’re always down for what-fuckin-ever, and you just let things bounce off you. And you like me, for my personality for some fucking reason? And I think about you all the time, when I’m gone or when, like, I have early training with Roy. And you make laugh because you stopped being afraid to be yourself around me. I just like you. And I meant what I said the other day, I do want to be with you forever. Not to freak you out or whatever.”

He’s stopped right at the doors and he looks so uncomfortable and earnest in a way that you’ve never seen before.

“I’m not freaked out, Jaim,” you say. “I love you, and you know I’m in it to win it with you. Now, let’s get those sunglasses and for the love of god, please don’t act this weird tonight.”

This elicits a chuckle, and he nods in concession. “Alright. Let’s go.”

The halls are dark and quiet as you walk to the Richmond locker room. It smells clean, for once. Like lavender. There’s a faint glow coming from the doors and Jamie pushes open the doors to the most magical thing you have ever seen.

There are candles on the benches and twinkle lights strung across the lockers. There’s a bouquet of flowers in the middle of the room and as you turn to Jamie, awestuck look on your face, you see him kneeling behind you, small black box in hand.

“Jamie,” you say.

“Yes, love,” he replies.

“What are you doing.” It’s a statement, not a question, and it comes out more wobbly than you’d care to admit.

He cracks a smile. “Eh, I hope it’s pretty obvious what I’m doing.”

You can feel a fucking tear forming in your eye and you will it to go away. You refuse to have streaky foundation.

“Love of my life,” Jamie begins.

“Yes,” you say.

“Oi, you’ve gotta let me finish.”

“Right, sorry, as you were.” You think your face is going to split in half with the size of your smile.

He takes a breath then continues, “there’s no one else I’d rather have shitty 3am breakfasts with, no one else I’d rather beat at MarioKart, and no one else I’d rather do life with. Will you m-”

He’s cut of by you kissing him like you have never kissed him before. After a moment, he pulls away and asks, “Is that a yes?”

You can’t help it, the furrow in his brow gets you every time so you laugh and reply, “Of course it’s a yes, you dummy!”

Jamie smiles and then yells, “Lads, she said yes!” and the blinds go up from the coaches office as the entire AFC Richmond team storms into the locker room. Dani and Richard are spraying champagne in the air as people hug you and slap Jamie on the back. 

You find his hand amid the chaos and squeeze it. 

“Can’t believe I were so nervous about this,” he says into your ear.

“Can’t believe you think you beat me at MarioKart,” you respond.

“Oi, we are not getting into this again-”

“There’s only one way to settle this.”

Jamie looks at you, then to all your friends celebrating, then back to you. “Think they’ll even notice we’re gone?”

You shake my head. “Nah,” you say, “let’s get out of here.”

Jamie smiles at me as you slip through six different lynx scents out the door. “You’re going down, Mrs. Tartt.”

“Only one of us is going down tonight, Mr. Tartt, and I can assure you it is not me!”

“You can say that again.” Jamie sticks out his tongue and wiggles his eyebrows at you, and your laughter echoes up into the night sky.

[kumkaniudaku]

At Last: Part One

Summary: Patrice returns home to celebrate a birthday and a new beginning.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 6.7k

Warnings: None

In a little corner of Wilmington, NC, tucked behind towering Spanish moss trees and sprawling acres of lush green grass, the Habersham family were monarchs on ancestral turf. 

Enslaved Sierra Leonean men and women had tilled this land long before Patrice was a twinkle in her mother and father’s eyes. They hoped, prayed, and danced for a future where babies far down their lineage could have a place to visit for a connection to their love and guidance beyond the physical realm. According to some, their spirits still roamed the fields once holding them captive in great triumph.

Long-held West African customs preserved and passed down over time had transformed into the uniquely rich Gullah culture that still governed the eldest generation of Habershams and their children. While much of the language patterns had been lost, Sybil Habersham-Lewis and her baby sister, Rosalyn, worked tirelessly to keep the family home tidy and traditions alive. 

They never hesitated to tell stories of how their great-grandfather rebuilt the big house with his bare hands to rid his offspring of a torrid legacy from a man he reluctantly called father. They sometimes laughed about how he, a fair-skinned man with green eyes and a mean streak, met and married a slender songstress with blue-black skin within six months of laying eyes on her. Paul and Efua produced eight children in that home. Those eight children created a line of movers and shakers that stretched far and wide. 

One of those movers and shakers stared out of the passenger side window with eyes wide as saucers and a smile that rivaled the sun, watching trees donning brown, red, and orange leaves whiz past on the way to her favorite place in the world. Patrice was itching to get out of the car and kick her shoes off to feel the soft tickle of damp Bermuda grass between her toes. She longed to see her uncle’s horses, eat fresh seafood until her stomach ached, and recap moments in her girlhood with her cousins. She couldn’t wait to kiss Nana's face 95 times for her 95th birthday. She needed to smell the blue hydrangeas in her auntie’s garden. She needed to be home.

Terry stole glances at Patrice, finding joy in her enthusiasm. She hadn’t slept a wink the night before or in the nearly two-hour ride from Fayetteville. He knew she’d tucker out eventually, but seeing her brimming with unbridled happiness made his heart swell. 

“God, I hope my auntie made okra. Oooh and crab cakes. I haven’t had any in so long!”

Terry listened to the way her accent slurred and shortened words in rapid succession with a smile. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to understand you by the end of the weekend.” 

“You’ll be lucky to keep up past tonight.” she laughed. "My granny ‘dem Geechee tuh de bone."

“Y’all make everything sound like music. I like it.” 

“If you tell Moon Pie that, she might try to take you from me.” 

“You gon’ let her?” 

“Hell nah. I’ll whoop her ass. She ain’t crazy.” 

The thought of having to put hands on her cousin behind her man made Patrice scowl while Terry let off a loud, shoulder-shaking cackle. Though she was serious as a heart attack, she laughed along with him to release the tension building in her muscles. 

Terry reached across the center console to gently rub her arm before playfully caressing her chin to pull a smile from her lips. 

“No way I’d let you fight as pretty as you are. Plus, we’re celebrating all weekend. If you aren’t smiling from tonight ‘til Sunday, I didn’t do my job.” 

Patrice’s mouth twisted into a suspicious smirk. “And what’s your job? You know, if someone were to ask for a friend.”

“Keeping you happy.” His cheeky quip made her eyes roll as she kissed her teeth. 

For over a week Terry had been tight lipped about something Patrice couldn’t put her finger on. She’d tried to catch him in a fib or make him slip up and share whatever details existed behind hushed calls and unmarked deliveries. But, Terry was notorious for keeping secrets under lock and key. Whatever he was planning would sneak up on her like a thief in the night. 

“You nervous to meet everyone?” Patrice questioned to change the subject.

“Nah, I’m good.” He cut his eyes in Patrice’s direction and smiled when he found her already eying him skeptically. “Think I’m lying?” 

“Yeah, I think you’re full of shit. Either that or you’re truly unaware of how crazy my folks are. No way you aren’t a little concerned.” 

He shrugged. “I’m not too worried. I love you, so I know I’ll love them. We’ll figure out the parts in the middle.” 

Everything Terry knew about Patrice, in his mind, was a beautiful amalgamation of those who had a hand in raising her into the woman she’d grown into. He knew her mother and how the two shared the same heart for community service. From her father, she’d inherited an uncanny ability to stop a whole room from speaking with only a raised eyebrow. Though he’d only heard stories of her grandmother, he could tell that her independent nature was a founding feature. And, if those things could make his heart turn flips with one look across a crowded room, he’d have no trouble making space for his bonus family. 

Patrice tried to formulate a counterpunch to Terry’s levelheaded assessment of the situation but had a change of heart as smooth asphalt transitioned into the familiar crunch of gravel beneath her car’s tires. 

Black iron gates adorned with an ornate H were pulled open, giving anyone casually walking by a peak into an almost mythical land. Terry’s eyes darted from place to place, lingering on the hanging moss trees lining their path, then on the children gleefully chasing each other through fallen leaves around a small white gazebo, before landing on a magnificent wrap-around porch serving as a gathering spot for elder men taking inventory of fishing equipment for an early morning trip to catch the evening’s meal. The Big House, as Patrice affectionately called it, was a modern marvel, an oasis for every hue of black man, woman, and child with Habersham blood in their veins to feel like they were somebody in an otherwise cruel world. 

“Beautiful, ain’t it? Auntie did her thing with the last renovation.” Patrice asked, beaming as she started to unbuckle her seatbelt.

“Incredible. Is this al-” 

Whatever was left of Terry’s awe-inspired sentence was swept into the wind as Patrice hopped from the passenger seat and onto the concrete driveway before the car could come to a full stop. 

Like a child finally released from the confines of their classroom onto the playground for 30 minutes of recess freedom, she hit the ground in a slight jog to greet a woman about her age skipping down the porch steps to meet her halfway. 

“Imani,” Patrice hollered, her arms already outstretched in anticipation of a hug. 

Imani called her name back with equal excitement until the two women were joined in a tight embrace. Terry watched from afar, a warm smile tugging his lips to one side as he shut off the engine and exited the vehicle. 

The two women rocked side to side until they’d had their fill of one another. Imani pulled away first to get a look at her favorite baby cousin. 

“My girlfrieeend,” she sang, imitating the theme song from the only show they watched for a full summer in their teens. “You look so good. The skin, the hair, the body! It’s all working right now.” 

“Me? Look at you! I know for a fact this caftan is from like Paris or Bali or somewhere crazy.” 

“Oh you know, just a little somethin’ custom from London. Not too much, not too much.” 

“How you stand it there with that nasty looking food is beyond me, girl.” 

Imani laughed. “That’s for them other folks. People that look like us know where to get a good meal. You oughta come see me sometime. Book a flight and let me worry about the rest.” 

“Next summer?” 

“I’ll throw it on my calendar. Bring Mister Man, too.” 

Patrice didn’t need to turn around to know that Terry had made his presence known. She could feel the warmth of his hand on her lower back as he joined her side. 

If he hadn’t known her for nearly two decades, Terry would have easily gotten Patrice and Imani confused. Both women wore glowing deep dark skin like a badge of honor, soaking up rays of sun and reflecting them in the way that only ethereal beings could. Wide noses and plump, pink and brown lips complimented impossibly high cheekbones. Beauty marks at the corners of opposite eyes might possibly be a tell-tale sign if one could fight being lulled into a trance by the sheer grace they both possessed. The only difference was Imani’s slight height advantage and low, ash blonde haircut.

“Wow,” he whispered, the words catching him by surprise. He shook his head in embarrassment. “I’m sorry. I just - y’all are damn near twins.” 

“Don’t I know it,” they spoke in unison. 

Patrice took over after a chuckle. “They used to call us Frick and Frack. Mostly because they couldn’t always tell who was who.”

“Which Petey over here never wanted to use to our advantage.” 

“Petey?” Terry questioned. 

“Wait, she never told you her nic-” 

“And, that’s enough,” Patrice hollered, purposely eclipsing Imani’s voice to keep her cousin from going further. “Terrence, this Imani. Imani this is Terrence, my man.” 

Terry could feel a bolt of lightning surge through his body as he reached out to shake Imani’s hand. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure what Patrice might call him in a simple introduction. He’d always given her a treasure trove of titles - his lady, the love of his life, maybe his wife one day if the Lord willed it so. He’d introduced her so much that they never explored how the inverse would work. But hearing himself be proudly referred to as her’s was a shock to the system that he hadn’t prepared for but welcomed all the same. 

Imani waved his outstretched hand away and pulled him in for a hug. “Boy, we family. Come here and get this squeeze.”

Like an old friend, Imani pulled Terry into a welcoming hug. Patrice looked on with a silent thanks to God. If what she knew of her cousin still held weight, they’d be fast friends and thick as thieves by the end of the weekend. 

Pulling away, she lightly tapped his chest and looked at Patrice. “I can’t believe I finally get to meet Terry Richmond in person. You’re basically her Nelly!” she laughed, recalling Patrice’s near obsession with St. Louis and their hometown hero after Hot in Herre debuted. Patrice rolled her eyes while Terry and Imani held on to each other through loud laughter.

“Got damn, Moanie, hold ‘em hostage why don’t you! You ain’t the only person they know ‘round here.” 

“Hey, Daddy!” 

“Hey, Baby Girl!”

The perfectly timed distraction took Patrice’s attention away long enough for the newest tandem to exchange hushed conversation.

“Yeah, but I’m the best!” Imani hollered back before winking at Terry and Patrice. “Go on. I’ll have the boys get y’all’s stuff. Make sure you get to the kitchen. Think Mama’s got some pound cake cut for you.”

The mention of other family members awaiting their arrival was a quick reminder that Terry had barely scratched the surface of new faces and connections. Every direction he turned presented another opportunity to be pulled into a spirited handshake or warm hug. 

With the men in her life, he was immediately received with masculine equivalents of praise for his physical form.

“Son, you look like ya 'bout tuh buss out dat shirt 'round ya arms. Petey, you don’t have to worry ‘bout no protection, huh?” was Uncle PJ’s way of saying he was confident in Terry’s ability to keep Patrice safe. 

“You comin’ out fishin’? Country boy like you probably catch catfish with your bare hands!” 

“Where you from?”

“Where your people from?” 

“They white? How you get them green eyes?”

“You got kids? You sure?” 

“You know you got some ears on you, don’t ya!”

Patrice’s father, Leon, interjected to save Terry from an increasingly invasive dive into his personal history. “Don’t answer none of that. But I would like you to come out on the water with us. Have a beer or two so we can finish that conversation from the other week.” 

“Y’all talking about me behind my back?” 

“Hell, I do,” Junior laughed. “She aggravating, bruh. You can say it. Go ‘head.”

“You better not.” 

Patrice playfully poked a perfectly manicured finger into Terry’s chest to force his silence, earning a chaste kiss on the forehead. Junior scoffed and sipped from his half-empty bottle of water.

“T, you grown now. Your big ass don’t have to let her boss you no more.” 

“That’s my favorite part,” Terry answered, finally speaking up for himself. “She sweet when she wanna be.”

“I ain’t seen it.”

“Because I don’t like you, Junior. How many times do we have to go over this?”

Terry tried to contain his wide grin from watching the siblings bicker like old times. He’d been in the middle of many a verbal tussle between them, always stepping in as the voice of reason. He still held the role of peacemaker all these years later. 

“She loves you, man. Still keeps your room up and everything.” 

Leon shook his head at his children’s antics. “Good thing you here. I couldn’t take that shit this weekend.” He pointed at the passenger seat of his truck and the open lunch box resting in it. “So, you comin’. Got food for you if you wanna ride.” 

“Uh, yeah,” Terry started before looking toward the house at the small audience of women crowding at the kitchen window. They scattered when he caught their gaze, making him laugh at the ridiculousness of the whole thing. “Give us a few minutes. I think there’s some people inside I gotta meet first.” 

“Good luck, man. I would say you got five minutes but we both know that ain’t happening. We’ll wait a bit.”

With one trial by fire ending, another began. In their short walk to the front porch, Patrice had given Terry opportunities to gracefully bow out of the incoming circus and take her father’s invitation as a get out of hell free card. He’d refused every effort with a kind smile and unfounded reassurance that everything would be okay. In his mind, he’d hug a few necks, kiss a few cheeks, and be out of dodge before anyone could hold him long. 

Stepping into the home’s foyer felt like being in a museum. Photos of Habersham descendants living and passed on to Glory lined the hallway as a reminder of their history on this land. Eyes that carried an array of stories looked back at him, leaving goosebumps across his arms. Especially once he landed on a young woman with a familiar half-smile encased behind an antique picture frame. 

Patrice noticed him stop short to give the photo his full attention. 

“My great-great-great grandma,” she informed, adding extra emphasis on the final ‘great’. “Efua. Nana says she was barely bigger than the kids but ran this place with an iron fist. I believe it. She look like she don’t play.” 

“She looks kinda like you and Imani.” 

Patrice tilted her head to get a better look. “Hm. I guess you’re right.”

Clamoring in the kitchen pulled them away from Efua’s watchful eye and around the corner for their grand entrance. 

Women of every age, size, and shape filled the room from wall to wall, each one participating in the cooking process. On one side, a small group of teenagers huddled to inspect bushels of greens for bugs and cut them in preparation for a proper wash. On the other, small girls shelled black-eyed peas and giggled amongst themselves over TikTok videos. But in the center of the room, where spices and fresh ingredients intermingled for an almost intoxicating aroma and conversation was the loudest, all of the cornerstones of the family gathered to share gossip and wisdom alike. 

Terry’s appearance, tall and muscled with a winning smile to match, sent a hush over even the loudest woman present. 

“Oh God,” Patrice mumbled to herself, preemptively embarrassed by the storm she knew was sure to follow. 

Someone whistled. Then came a low “mm-mm-mm” from an auntie fighting hard to contain herself. Terry let every sound and look fuel his ego for just a few seconds before speaking. 

“Hey, ladies.” 

“Hey, Terry.” 

Every voice greeted him in unison like the Angels speaking to Charlie over that old speakerphone. Patrice screwed her face and pinched his shoulder. He’d been given strict instructions the night before, but being in the moment called for an audible that immediately made him a shiny new toy to be paraded.

Before he could have any say so, Patrice’s mother was ushering him around for every aunt and cousin to say a personal hello. He charmed each woman who met his acquaintance like a seasoned politician. If nothing else, they could all hang on to the memory of meeting the long-fabled Terrence Richmond. 

But, for all the pomp and circumstance, every breath hitched once Rosalyn led Terry to matriarch. 

She wore 95 years on Earth well. Chestnut skin covered in beauty marks crinkled around her eyes as she smiled back at him. Even as she sat in her wheelchair more slight and fragile than Patrice remembered, Terry could see her inner strength shining through.

Patrice watched her mother lean down and speak something into her grandmother’s ear before directing Terry to crouch down to eye level. He did as he was told, gingerly capturing her much smaller hands in his. 

“Hi, Ms. Ida. I’m so happy to finally meet you. My name is Terrence.” 

The softness in his voice ignited a chorus of heartwarming sentiments from every corner. Patrice had become so enraptured in the meeting she never thought would happen that she nearly missed her mother directing her to join Terry’s side. 

Ida didn’t say much back to him. Instead, she slid her hand from his grasp and traced her fingertips along the perimeter of his face. She examined him from all angles with a nostalgic look in her gaze. Terry tried not to let confusion come through in his expression, but Rosalyn caught the sliver of uncertainty. 

“You remind her of somebody close, that’s all. Same eyes.” 

He’d inadvertently sent her back to her childhood, bringing back memories so deep in her mind she thought she might never get them back. Even with slightly darker skin and broader features than Paul could boast back then, Ida still saw him clear as day. And that, all those years later, made her feel more alive than ever on her 95th birthday.

Ida tapped his jaw lightly and laughed. “Mhm. Petey, this him?” 

Finally joining Terry’s side, Patrice mimicked him and knelt by her grandmother’s feet. 

“Yes ma’am. He wanted to be here for your birthday.” 

“Nice looking boy, ain’t he?” 

Patrice giggled. “He cute, I guess. I heard he got you a gift for tonight, but he won’t tell me what it is. Can you believe it?”

“Well, hell, this all the gift I need. Give me anything else and I might not make it to 96!” 

“Mama!” 

Sybil hated when her mother made jokes about death, but Terry couldn’t help but laugh. He wanted to joke with her, see what else she might say knowing that no one in the house could tell her what to do, but the loud blast of a car horn in the front yard reminded him that he’d made a prior commitment. 

Gently, he squeezed her knee and spoke loud enough for her to hear. “Now, I go gotta go catch you somethin’ for tonight. You gon’ be here when I’m back?” 

“Oh yeah,” she answered, reinvigorated and saucy like her younger self. “I’ll be dressed up real nice too. Might leave here with two gals on your arm.” 

“You know I never been the sharing type, Nana.” 

Ida smiled at Patrice, nodding in approval. “That’s my girl. Keep that up.”

A second and longer beep let Terry know that time was running out. He quickly bid the group farewell, ending on Patrice with a simple kiss on the cheek and a promise to be back soon. 

While she became swept up in a whirlwind of who, what, when, and where, Rosalyn and Sybil slipped away to speak with Terry on his way out of the door. He’d become the center of attention, even long after his scent had faded. 

“Is he the one from high school?” 

“What’s he like?” 

“Is he always this nice?” 

“Y’all shackin’ up?” 

“When y’all getting married? What about kids?”

More questions, more prying, more assumptions than she could handle. Short, vague answers weren’t enough for them. They wanted the full scoop from the young lady they once knew as a shy girl who only focused on her studies. 

Patrice answered every question with enough detail to satiate their curiosity and maintain some level of privacy in her relationship. For a moment, that was enough. They’d unveiled the mystery of Petey’s other life and could move on to more pressing matters.

They quickly shifted to discussions of other people’s business. Who’d had a baby? Who was divorcing? Who’s kids were raising hell in the community? They took a winding road filled with chats about celebrity news and politics, nonsense about music, and, Patrice’s personal favorite, the old days. 

Those chats, full of lore and laughter, always took place in Nana’s parlor. A room covered in powder pink wallpaper and situated in the corner of the home where natural sunlight welcomed any guests that had the privilege of visiting. 

The older women sat side by side, crammed on expensive armchairs and soft couches, to convene at their leisure. Patrice stood by her favorite spot beside the window with Imani sitting on her right and her grandmother positioned in front of her. On her left stood a small table holding hair grease, a fine-toothed comb, and duck bill clips to help her pincurl Ida’s shoulder length silver hair. Her favorite pastime. 

“Everyone of y’all was bad,” Sybil laughed, referring to the crop of children that came up with Patrice. “Y’all came here every summer acting a damn fool.” 

“Not me and Petey!”

“Especially you and Petey. The worst of the bunch. Just sneaky and sassy!” 

“I don’t know what you talkin’ about. All I did was read and sit up under Nana.” 

Patrice’s highly inaccurate recollection of her time in the country every year made Ida laugh in her wheelchair. “Don’t let ‘em lie on you. I never saw my baby gettin’ in no trouble.” 

“Oh yeah right!” Sybil exclaimed. “Ros, wasn’t you there when these two let all the chickens out and had us chasin’ them ‘round out back.” 

“Sure was. They had all the grown folk out there huffin’, puffin’, and ‘bout to blow the house down!” 

The room fell into laughter watching Sybil imitate the group of adults fighting to capture livestock. Patrice remembered that afternoon and tried to defend their actions. 

“Okay, that is true, but I remember that being your daughter’s idea. I was only helping my sis.” 

Imani shrugged and sat back in her seat. “You raised an activist. Those animals were in captivity.” 

“Moanie, you eat meat,” Moon Pie commented. 

“I never said they didn’t taste good. I said we were holding them captive. The circle of life is different. Now let’s talk about how Moon had us sittin’ at the eating table all night because she wouldn’t finish her Frogmore stew thinkin’ there were real frogs in it.”

“Heaven forbid a girl need proof!” 

More laughter. The kind of laughter that healed deep emotional wounds. The kind that seeped into the walls, keeping the home full of love and light. The kind that made Patrice happy to not only be home but to share a piece of her heart with the man she loved. 

While she wished he could hear the silly stories and witness the exaggerated retellings, Terry was fidgeting with his fingers as he waited for Patrice’s father to meet him at the back of his truck. 

Across the way, the other men sat in small clusters, chatting their way through a midafternoon lunch break. As much as he wanted to talk shop with them about the fate of the Carolina Panthers, there was a more meaningful matter on the table. 

Leon grunted as he closed the driver’s side door and rounded the truck’s cab. “Let that down, will you?”

Terry sprung into action quicker than he meant to, nervousness making him move at hyperspeed. Leon laughed and lifted himself onto the truck bed before handing over a small cooler. 

“Grab whatever you like. We got plenty.” 

“Thank you, sir.” 

“Just Leon. Kinda weird to call your father-in-law sir, ain’t it? Plus that’s that fool’s name over there and he ain’t worth a damn. Lazy sumbitch.” 

“I got you. Won’t happen again,” Terry chuckled as he pulled a piece off of his turkey sandwich and popped it into his mouth. They sat in silence for a few moments to enjoy the sound of nature around them until he reignited the conversation. “I appreciate y’all agreeing to all this. Especially so quickly. I hope things don’t feel rushed.”

“You ain’t doin’ nothin’ I wouldn’t want for my girl. She need somebody willing to go above and beyond for her. I know you always have and I don’t see you slowin’ down no time soon.” 

Terry nodded, smiling. “Couldn’t if I tried.”

“I know. Moanie got the ring, right?” 

“Yeah. We worked it all out a couple weeks ago. She’s hiding it for me and keeping Treece distracted. You know she’s nosey.”

“Her mama said to call it inquisitive.” 

“Hm. Inquisitive, huh?”

They looked at each other and spoke at the same time. “Nosey.”

“That’s her,” Leon remarked. “Time’s flyin’, ain’t it? I remember when it looked like you was drowning in your clothes. Now look at you. Big as a damn tank. What they feed y’all in the Corps?” 

“Shit, nothing but slop and a hard time seasoned with a dash of casual racism from some crazy white boy outta one of the Dakotas every once in a while.”

Their shared laughter disturbed a cluster of nearby birds, making the rest of the men look in their direction. Sir threw his hands up in the air. 

“Well, damn, Leon. Gone ‘head and fuck up the catch!” 

“Or I can fuck you up instead.” He looked over at Terry struggling to keep his face neutral and shook his head. “I can’t stand his ass. Or his daughter. Or his wife. All of ‘em get on my nerves. C’mon, so we can finish up.”

As high noon gave way to early evening and the sleepiness of fall pushed the sun into the west earlier than usual, Imani and Patrice sat alone in one of the guest rooms engrossed in conversation. 

Imani was the only sister Patrice had ever known. It didn’t matter what portion of the world they occupied or how long it’d been since they last talked, they always picked up right where they left off when they were reunited. 

Patrice focused on the vanity mirror to examine Imani’s careful twists and twirls to place her thick natural hair into bantu knots.

“You think I can grow my hair out like this by January? I’m going to Ghana and I wanna switch it up a little bit.” 

“Of course. Manifest it, my sister!” 

Imani laughed as she parted out another section. “If I ever need somebody to follow up my foolishness, I know I can count on you.” 

“What Whitney said on the Waiting to Exhale soundtrack?” 

Together, they broke into song, harmonizing to breathe life into the final track from one of their favorite movie soundtracks. Imani hugged her cousin from behind and kissed her cheek. 

“I love you, girl. I miss you so much. It gets so lonely being away from home all the time.” 

“I love you, too. Life be life-ing, don’t it?” 

“All the time. I gotta make my way out to Fayetteville and spend more time with y’all. Maybe learn some more about Mister Man.” Patrice tried to hide her bashful smile, making Imani squeal behind her. “So…tell me about Terry. I know you said something downstairs but I wanna know the real scoop.” 

Patrice sighed at the mere thought of their romance. “The way I love that man, girl, I can’t even explain it. I feel like I’m going crazy.” 

“Oooooh! Swept you clean off your feet, huh?” 

“Threw me over his shoulder and hasn’t put me down since. Never in a million years did I expect to end up here with him. I mean I hoped for it, but to be here is mind-blowing. He’s so sweet, Moanie. So, gentle. Kind. More affectionate than I think I was ready for. I don’t know. I’m just in love. I’m happy.” 

“It’s all over you. I see the glow.” 

“Well, that’s from other things,” she added, a cheeky grin spreading across her face.

“Not the choir boy!” 

“Please, don’t let him fool you. Can’t keep him off me or keep his mouth closed when he gets to talking.”

Their shared laughter spilling out into the hallway became a beacon of their location for Terry as he dragged his tired legs up the stairs in search of Patrice.

His knuckles rapping against the closed bedroom door halted the private conversation until they gave him permission to enter. He slowly pushed the door open before poking his head into the room. 

“Everybody decent?” 

“Mhmm. Come on in.” Imani invited over her shoulder. She looked back at Patrice through the mirror as her cousin adjusted her clothing and sat up a little straighter in anticipation of Terry’s avalanche of affection. 

His eyes seemed to close beyond seeing clearly from the sheer force of his smile. 

“Hey, pretty.” 

“Hey, love. You have fun?” 

Terry released a dry chuckle. “Yeah. A real hoot.” 

Imani watched the young couple flirt back and forth, her hand outstretched to pass a small black velvet box from a drawer in her vanity to Terry while he kept Patrice occupied with short kisses. He secured it in one of his cargo pockets before pulling away. 

“You stink,” Patriced joked, half lying.

“I know. I still have some set-up work to do, so I’ll bring your stuff. Don’t want you to get behind on account of me.” 

“Thank you, baby. You’re so sweet.” 

Patrice captured his chin with her fingers and pulled him closer for another kiss. 

Terry lifted an eyebrow in concern. “You sick?” 

“No. I just love you.”

“I love you, too.” He couldn’t take his eyes off of her. The way she softened her gaze to scan his face. The way the gloss on her lips caught the sun. The way every one of her perfect features was on display with her hair pulled up and away from her face. He’d never been more confident in a decision in his life and, if not for the promise he’d made to half of her immediate family, he would’ve done what he drove all the way out to Wilmington for right then and there.

Knowing time was of the essence, Imani cleared her throat and gave Terry a look to urge him along behind Patrice’s back. 

“Well, Terry, think you oughta get down there and set up a table or something, right!”

Snapping out of his trance, Terry stood to his full height to look down at Patrice. “Yeah, you're right. See you a little later?” 

“It’s a date.”

He wanted to give her one more kiss to take with him, but a final reminder for him to scram was the catalyst to push Terry out of the room and leave the ladies to readying for the evening. 

She was all he could think about as he toiled away setting up tents and placing tables exactly how Rosalyn wanted them, sometimes several times over. Even as he casually sipped strong moonshine with Junior and the younger men under lantern light, all dressed in his most pristine white to fit strict instructions, he thought about Patrice and what might look like in the dress she’d chosen. He needed to see her.

His hands were sweating inside of his pockets. He casually caressed the velvet of that small black box, occasionally flipping it open to touch the cold metal inside. Time moved painfully slow. Hunger gnawed at his empty stomach. His mother’s constant phone calls for updates and reassurance didn’t help. Nervousness made his chest hot with anxiety. 

“You gon’ be alright,” Rosalyn assured while adjusting his collar on one of her many trips around the backyard to adjust the tablescape. “Breathe. Won’t be too much longer.”

He thanked her for her kindness and prayed she was right. Or he prayed for the dream he’d written down on a random Tuesday in his creative writing journal to come true. He wasn’t sure anymore. But, when he opened his eyes and lifted his head to check that sliding glass door for the umpteenth time, there she stood amongst the Habersham women as they escorted the guest of honor arm in arm. 

Angelic was the only way he could describe her. Cosmically beautifully and capable of bringing the strongest man to his knees just by batting those long lashes. A toothy grin helped him bare each one of his teeth as he watched her saunter down the decorated pathway to the event tent with Imani in tow. 

“Happy Birthday to you,” the group sang once Ida and all her ladies had made it to the long communal table packed to the brim with food and decorations. 

They serenaded the woman responsible for much of their existence until their faces ached from the singing. She bobbed her head along to the song with a smile on her face then quieted their loud applause with a simple wave of her hand. 

“Ninety-five of those and you’d think I’d be used to it by now,” she laughed. “Thank you. Each of y’all are beautiful. Young and strong. Blood of my blood and I’m glad to have you here with me. Even the ones who just came along to spend some time with an old lady. I love you. Eat, drink, and dance ‘til you bust out your clothes. That’s alright with me! We got a lot to celebrate.”

Teary-eyed and full of gratitude, Patrice reunited with Terry at the dinner table as soon as she ensured her grandmother was comfortable. He worldlessly dabbed at her waterline with his thumb and kissed the top of her head. 

“You okay? Need to step inside for a second?” 

“No,” she answered, laughing at herself for her dramatics. “I’m just really happy. C’mon. Let’s eat.”

Eat, drink, and be merry had a whole new meaning under the soft, warm light wrapping variations of black skin in its embrace. Loud pockets of conversation and laughter made for a melodious cacophony of sounds while music played in the background. 

Patrice clung to Terry the entire time, always staying connected by a hand on his thigh or their fingers laced together beneath the table. Every once in a while, they’d break from separate conversations and catch each other’s eye and smile like schoolyard crushes sitting at the lunch table together. 

The romance in the air between them was palpable enough for Imani to pull out her phone and covertly shoot Terry a quick text. 

Dessert’s out. Do it now or they’re gonna start dancing. 

Now?

NOW!

Terry eyed Imani across the table. She urged him to do something with a sideways nod. He chewed his lip and fiddled with the box in his pocket. The music was starting to pick up as a few small children hit the dancefloor. Imani gave Rosalyn the signal to make a video call.

Now or never. 

He nervously clinked his knife against his wineglass and cleared his throat. 

“Nigga, you gone break it! That’s Big Mama good crystal.”

“Shut the hell up, Sir! You ain’t pay for none of this.” Rosalyn’s reprimand came with visual daggers sent to her baby brother at the far end of the table that only softened when she looked back at Terry. “Go ahead, sweetheart.” 

Terry stood to look at every confused face in the vicinity while he waited for one of the teenagers to turn the music down. 

“Sorry, y’all. I just had a few words to say. I won’t be before you long. In the real way, not the pastor way.” His attempt at a joke fell flat. Patrice tried to keep him motivated with a smile, but her eyes begged him for answers that he couldn’t provide. “Um, I know I’m the odd man out around here. Y’all have been incredibly kind and welcoming. I really appreciate it because you didn’t have to. Especially you, Ms. Ida. Happy Birthday, again. You look beautiful.” 

“Thank you, baby.” 

He nodded his appreciation and continued. “I also wanna thank Ms. Ida and everybody else who gave me permission to ask a question of somebody really important to me. Because I know being here with all of y’all is really important to her. Can you stand up for me, Treece?”

Patrice allowed Terry to help her to her feet before whispering through her teeth. “What are you doing?” 

“Something I’ve been wanting to do since I met you.” 

There wasn’t time for Patrice to process his statement. Terry slowly dropped to one knee, not caring about the dust below him. He kept his focus on her the entire time, even as quiet whispers turned into fervent murmurs. 

“When we were kids you told tell me that, if you ever got proposed to, you didn’t want a big speech or any of the stuff they did in movies. So, I promise not to do that. What I will do is tell you how much I love you. And I’ll do that today, tomorrow, and every day after that if you allow me the privilege of being your husband.” 

“Terrence,” Patrice huffed out as she tried to contain her mess of emotions. He reached up to grip her hand. "Don't make me cry in front of my people."

“Too late. Patrice, I’m askin’ you scared as hell in front of all these people, will you marry me?”

Everyone watched as Terry presented Patrice with an open ring box and a sparkling diamond illuminated by the small light tucked into the inside.

“I knew it,” Patrice whispered, losing the battle against the happy tears pouring from her waterline. 

“No, you didn’t, girl! We got you. Answer that man,” Imani hollered.

Her heartbeat pulsed in her ears. The cheering from her family began to muffle. Her body temperature skyrocketed. She felt faint. The people were waiting. What would she say? 

Just as reality began to slip away, Terry’s eyes looking back at her quieted the external and internal noise. 

Driven by pure love, Patrice met Terry in a squat and grabbed his face with both of her hands. 

“What you doing tomorrow?” 

“Hopefully saying a couple vows to this pretty girl I know from way back. I brought a tux with me just in case she wasn’t too busy.” 

“From way back, huh? I think I talked to her and she has a little time on her books.” She took another look at the ring before plucking it from its box and placing it on her left ring finger. She examined it for a bit then leaned forward to kiss her betrothed with enough passion to send the crowd into a frenzy. Pulling away, she smiled and wiped gloss from Terry’s lips. 

“Let’s do it. Let’s get married.”

----

TAGS: @planetblaque @wvsspoppin @thatone-girly @avoidthings @slutsareteacherstoo @eilujion @amyhennessyhouse @yaachtynoboat711 @jenlovey @pinkpantheris @blowmymbackout @onherereading @hrlzy @becauseimswagman1 @thiccc-c @urfavblackbimbo @blackburnbook @ashanti-notthesinger @xo-goldengirl

[uzumaki-rebellion]

A Daughter's Plan

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black Female OC

Warning(s): Pure Fluff. Single Dad. Girl Dad energy. Terry's POV. Low angst.

Summary: Terry Richmond is a lonely single dad caring for his ten-year-old daughter, Pilar. When Pilar's mother re-marries and moves overseas to start a new job and family, the pre-teen thinks her dad needs to find someone for himself, too. Unbeknownst to Terry, his clever daughter has her sights set on the new neighbor, Allegra, who might be the perfect match.

Word count: 7,481

"Isn't she pretty

Truly the angel's best

Boy, I'm so happy

We have been heaven blessed"

Stevie Wonder—"Isn't She Lovely?"

Terry Richmond heard the familiar rolling sound of his ten-year-old daughter's skateboard crossing over into the cul-de-sac of their gated townhome neighborhood. He could always pick out the unique sound of her board's ka-kump, ka-kump, ka-kump rhythm compared to her school buddies as they raced each other home.

Pilar always did a few kick flip tricks by Mr. Rhea's property before she jumped the curb and circled past a speed bump near Mrs. Purdue's home. While hand sanding a rocking chair, that he made for his pregnant sister, Terry paused.

He didn't hear Pilar's skateboard anymore.

Her crew of three friends whizzed past his open garage door toward their homes, but Terry didn't see his only child roll up to greet him with her angelic smile and chaotic energy. He lifted his protective goggles and wiped his hands on his work apron. Still no sign of her.

He strode out of the garage to take a peek and he noticed her lingering by their mailbox, still wearing her protective helmet and staring across the wide street. A furniture van blocked the driveway of the townhome facing across their property. A Black woman in her late twenties or early thirties directed two burly movers to carry a brand new sofa covered in plastic through her front door. The cute bob and conservative pastel colors of her sweater and pencil skirt had him guessing she was a teacher, or worked in corporate.

He glanced at Pilar who kept her dark brown eyes laser-focused on the recent addition to their quiet corner of the world. She chewed on her lip and rolled her board back and forth with her left foot. The new neighbor bought the house of Pilar's best friend since kindergarten. Little Leslie Gardner left Ville Broussard, Louisiana a year ago, and her old house stood empty for nine months until the For Sale sign finally came down three months ago. Terry knew that Mr. Gardner put a pretty penny into renovating the place before putting it on the market, and the expense of the renovation drove the price up.

The woman across the street probably spent over two-hundred and fifty thousand dollars for the two-bedroom property. Pilar pretended to dig in the mailbox, knowing he had already gotten the mail, and stared at the woman. From that distance, he couldn't tell if Pilar was still upset about Leslie moving or if she was upset that a stranger was moving into her bestie's old home.

"Pilar," he called out.

His daughter looked his way, and so did the woman across the street.

Whoa.

Terry never got a full view of the neighbor before. He always caught sideways glances or the back of her head. But the full frontal turned out to be something else. She looked like a gorgeous Black Barbie doll. He peeped her figure a few days ago when she first showed up in form-fitting pale green sweatpants and a matching hoodie. The fall weather brought out the layers, but she must've ignored the forecast because she walked around double-cheeked up in sportswear not designed for cooler temperatures.

Miss Neighbor turned her attention back to the interior of her home and Pilar ambled over, carrying her skateboard. She pulled off her skateboard helmet.

"Hey munchkin," he said, ruffling her thick two-toned curls pulled back with a light blue scrunchie. From the roots to just above the tips, Pilar's hair was dark brown. The ends had turned their annual summer-in-the-sun reddish brown that matched her skin tone. She looked exactly like his oldest sister Brianna and had her spirited personality, too.

Pilar's down-turned lips reflected a little 'tude.

"I don't see any kids," Pilar said.

She sounded bummed.

"Checking out the neighbor, huh?"

"She's pretty. Do you think she's pretty, Dad?"

"She is very attractive."

"Very?" Pilar said with a smug grin.

"Don't read anything into that."

"We should go say hi."

"She's busy with furniture. Let her get settled in."

He guided Pilar into their home through the garage, and she dumped her board and helmet by the dinette table. She washed her hands in the kitchen sink and he pulled a PB&J sandwich on a plate and a Capri Sun from the fridge, placing them on the table for her after-school snack.

The landline rang, and he answered it.

"Hi Terry, is Pilar in yet?"

His ex wife's voice sounded perky and happy.

"Yeah, hold on.'"

He carried the cordless from the living room into the kitchen and handed it to Pilar.

"It's your mom."

Pilar's face brightened, and she chatted away on the overseas call. Terry returned to the garage and began sanding the armrest of the rocking chair. He swept sawdust on the ground and closed the garage door after he finished.

Back in the kitchen, he rinsed his hands. An uneaten sandwich remained on the kitchen table without Pilar in sight. He looked in their living room and didn't find her there.

"Pilar?"

Terry climbed the stairs to the second floor and found his daughter weeping on her bed, her face buried in a yellow Big Bird pillow.

"What's wrong?"

He sat his big body on her twin bed, and she shook her head on the pillow. He laid a hand on her back.

"Babygirl, what is it?"

"Mom isn't coming back for Christmas. She eloped with that man in Italy and they plan on flying me out there for a boat cruise instead of coming to the lake like she promised. They'll have a big party in place of a wedding in Rome next July."

Pilar never addressed her new step-father by his name, Bryson. It was always "that man" despite her mother dating him for two years. Bryson was east coast respectability. A Black Archon Boulé with a prestigious prep school background and long family money. The complete opposite of Terry's country boy/military roots. He drove a 2015 F-250 truck and drank beer. Bryson drove a 2025 Jaguar and sipped Chardonnay.

Yolanda leveled up to the Black bougie life she always wanted. Terry knew in his heart that Yolanda would never be happy building a life with him. They were both twenty and naïve, getting married the moment they found out Pilar was conceived. He quit college and joined the marines to support them. Yolanda worked as a flight attendant after their daughter was born, so Terry stayed the primary caretaker, training other marines and not deploying out of the country.

Yolanda wanted more out of life than he could provide financially and asked for a divorce when Pilar turned six. Both their families had been shocked when she granted Terry primary custody of their only child. Yolanda wanted to travel the world and her career let her do that. She eventually settled in Atlanta, working for Delta. Pilar adjusted to being shuttled back and forth for holidays and summers.

Then Bryson popped up, freeing Yolanda from the working class. He was older, established, and child-free. Also very generous with his money.

Terry had made arrangements to send Pilar abroad for a lavish wedding the following summer as her mother's flower girl. She and Bryson had planned to spend the Christmas holiday with the entire Richmond family so that they could all meet the new man who would be connected to them through Pilar. Christmas was going to be the rare treat of being with both her parents for a holiday. The Richmond clan had reserved fancy cabins by a lake for a week and planned on turning it into a family reunion of sorts. Yolanda offered to arrange her Christmas plans for the reunion so Pilar wouldn't miss out on seeing all of her cousins from all over the states. Now she eloped and switched up on their child three months in advance.

Terry kept his anger in check in front of Pilar. He'd call Yolanda when his daughter was back in school and give her a smooth cuss out. He offered to switch Thanksgiving for Christmas because it was important for Pilar to experience a big reunion for the first time on his side of the family.

Pilar turned her head from the pillow. Big, wet eyes stared at him. Her bottom lip trembled and his heart squeezed in his chest. His daughter was the light of his life. Watching her expectations crumble hurt his soul. Pilar came first before anything, and that was the difference between him and Yolanda. Their daughter became a secondary consideration with her. His ex wasn't a terrible person. He loved her once a long time ago. She was ambitious, energetic, pretty, and gave him a perfect child. Yolanda just wasn't cut out to be a mother saddled with the responsibility of putting her daughter's emotional needs first. To Yolanda, whisking Pilar off to Rome probably sounded like giving her child the best in life. Bryson was an American Express Exec for their Italian branch and lived in a lavish home with staff and chauffeurs. Yolanda shopped, dined, and played tennis every day in luxury. She wanted Pilar to experience that lifestyle. In his own way, Terry wanted their daughter to have that chance, too. But without pulling the rug from under Pilar. She set her heart on having them all together for once since their divorce.

"Tell you what…I'll talk to her and try to convince them to come for Christmas."

"She said the cruise is their early honeymoon and they want me to go so we can bond as a new family. I already have a family!"

Pilar buried her face in his chest, and he stroked her hair.

"How about we go to Cholly's Burgers for dinner and you can mope over a double cheeseburger and a big chocolate malt?"

Pilar sniffled and wiped her nose.

"Okay, I'll go…but I can't guarantee that I'll feel better."

"Deal," he said.

He left her alone in her room and went down to the kitchen and put her sandwich and juice away. Checking emails on his smartphone, he spent the next couple of hours watching TV and then ironed Pilar's clothes for school. He showered and called his daughter down for their dinner trip. Outside, their new neighbor carried some things from her cream-colored Mercedes S-Class in the driveway.

"Excuse me," the woman called as Pilar jumped into his truck's passenger side.

"Yeah?" he called back.

"Hi, I'm Allegra…new neighbor…um, can you tell me what day the trash and recycling go out?"

"Thursdays!" Pilar called out.

His daughter had her head stuck out of the window with a big grin on her face.

"Yeah, Thursdays. They normally roll through around eleven a.m.," he said.

"Great, thanks."

"I'm Terry, and this is my daughter, Pilar—"

"Are you married? Have kids?" Pilar asked.

Allegra smiled politely, holding a small box. Her eyes bounced from Pilar's to his, then back to Pilar.

"I'm not married. No kids."

Pilar whipped her head around to look at Terry. He ignored her.

"Have a good evening," he said.

He climbed into his truck and started it up.

"You're really not good at finding a date, Dad."

"What are you talking about, little girl?"

He backed out of their driveway and headed toward the main road that led to the highway.

"A single, beautiful woman with a fancy car asked you about trash day. She could've called her realtor or looked it up online."

"We were right there in front of her. It's quicker to ask a neighbor. That woman is not looking to date people she lives around. Besides, she saw me with you, so she'll think I'm married with a family already."

"She'll know pretty soon that it's just you and me."

"I don't think most upwardly mobile Black women are interested in men that already have children nowadays."

It took them twenty minutes to arrive at the burger joint, and Pilar's mood lifted considerably. They talked about her upcoming soccer game and she slurped down her chocolate malt content with life once again.

Back home, he washed and braided her hair in two cornrows, tying it down with a black satin hair scarf so he wouldn't have to do her hair in the morning. Their evening bedtime routine went off without a hitch and he allowed her to watch a cartoon before she went to sleep in her room.

The next couple of weeks were normal in the Richmond household. He'd ride his bike in the morning to take Pilar to school, following behind her as she skateboarded ahead of him with her classmates. Later, he'd ride his bike over to check on the restaurant he invested in. He spent a few days with his financial advisor and moved some money around that he received from a police settlement. His current financial status allowed him to enjoy not having the worries of steady employment until he found something he wanted to do. He put funds in stocks that did well, paid off the townhouse, and Yolanda's monthly child support covered the rest for Pilar. His woodworking kept him busy during the afternoon while Pilar was in school. But once she was home, he went straight into daddy mode. Soccer Dad duty, carpooling to games, checking homework, cooking and cleaning, fixing things at his parent's house and running their errands…they all filled his time.

Once a week he went bowling with friends and drank at bars, chasing a little tail, but not really trying to catch much. His three older sisters rotated keeping Pilar with their kids so he could have some adult time. The last few "dates" he had were with single moms who complained about their ex-husbands or ex boyfriends. He thought one woman named Michaela would be a long-term situation, but she reconciled with her boyfriend and moved to Dallas.

After a Saturday soccer practice, Pilar came to him and asked if she could bake some cookies for a school party. It was nearing Halloween. He pulled out some easy to bake pre-made Tollhouse cookie dough from the freezer. All Pilar had to do was place the small chocolate chip cookie dough squares onto a baking sheet and use the stove timer to keep them from burning.

He kicked up his feet to watch the news and when the stove buzzer went off, he trotted into the kitchen to make sure Pilar didn't burn herself by taking them out of the oven with the oven mits. She only baked a dozen.

"Shouldn't you bake more for your class?" he asked.

"It's a potluck, so people are just bringing whatever to share."

After they cooled, she used a spatula to scoop them onto a decorative plate of pumpkins and fall leaves. He covered them with plastic wrap.

"Maybe you should put them in some Tupperware," he suggested.

"No, this is good."

He left her to handle her party business.

Terry didn't think anything about the cookies until three days later when Allegra showed up at his open garage door. His electric sander and earplugs prevented him from hearing her approach. He turned toward the street and almost jumped, not expecting someone to be standing near his truck watching him. Shutting off the sander, he pulled out the earplugs and stared at her with his goggles on.

"Sorry to startle you…Terry…right?"

He nodded.

"I came over to bring you back your cookie plate. That was such a thoughtful housewarming gift. I ate every single chocolate chip cookie. Perfectly gooey in the center the way I like! The note you wrote was really sweet, too. Thank you so much."

"I'm sorry?" he said in confusion.

Terry pushed up his goggles. Allegra handed him the plate that wasn't empty. On it were slices of banana bread. He looked at the baked goods, then back at her.

"To show my appreciation for the cookies…I just made it last night. I didn't put nuts in it because I don't know if anyone in your family is allergic to nuts."

"No, we aren't."

"I'll remember that."

Allegra's pretty eyelashes curled over naturally, and her lips had just enough red lipstick to give her plump lips a rosy tint. She was dream girl material, and the cut and style of her bob reminded him of something the old Black starlets wore in the sixties, but it looked contemporary too with a soft flip on the ends. Terry became lost in her face and she seemed equally lost in his, her gaze never leaving his eyes. That was one of the physical traits that women always said they loved about him. The green, lion-like eyes. She looked up at him and their size difference was quite obvious. She was petite-chic, the cut and color of her clothes making her seem taller far away. Allegra was shorter than his ex wife. He felt like a big giant standing next to her. She smelled so good. Her perfume hinted at jasmine in the summer.

"My daughter and I will enjoy this. Thanks for bringing it over with the plate," he said.

Allegra smiled and his chest caved in. Was it possible for her to be even more attractive with a smile on her face?

She glanced around his makeshift workshop.

"Woodworking? You do this for a living?" she asked.

He stepped aside to let her see the dining cabinet he built for another neighbor.

"Actually, it's a hobby of mine."

"Hobby? This is true craftsmanship."

He touched the side of the cabinet.

"I learned it from my dad and kept at it in highschool."

"If I paid you, could you make me a couple of custom bookshelves?"

"What type of wood?"

"Not too expensive."

"I can make some maple wood shelves and stain them to look expensive.'

"I like your way of thinking. When I get the time, I'll measure my walls and let you know what I need."

"Still settling in?"

"My god, I haven't unpacked all of my boxes. I'm still eating takeout because I dread unpacking everything in my kitchen. My new job keeps me busy and I'm usually too tired by the end of the day. I should be unpacking right now, but I have to leave for an event soon."

She sighed and pushed back a flipped curl on her forehead.

"I better let you get back to work. Again…thank you for the sweet welcoming gesture."

Allegra left him alone in the garage and he watched her walk back across the street to her place. She had a little sway in her hips as she walked in her well-fitted navy blue dress pants and structured white button-down shirt. The light pink cardigan sweater tied around her shoulders was such a classy touch, along with her chunky blocked-heeled pumps.

He looked down at his dust-laden ripped jeans and brown work apron. Not too shabby, but he almost wanted to spruce up. He took the plate into the kitchen and checked the time. Pilar would be there in half an hour. He wanted to know what she wrote in that note to Allegra.

Running a hot shower, he cleaned his body and stared at his reflection in the mirror afterward. Time for a fresh line-up. His facial hair looked a little ungroomed. He took time to shave and then changed into better jeans and a fitted long sleeve shirt. He waited at the front door, peeking out of the screen.

Allegra stepped into her Mercedes wearing a pastel coral cocktail dress with an upswept hairdo, looking like Diahann Carroll with a smidgen of Grace Kelly. She drove off to wherever she needed to go and he imagined how breathtaking she'd look, stepping into a crowded room with all eyes on her beauty.

Ka-kump. Ka-kump. Ka-kump.

Pilar glided onto the sidewalk near their house and headed for the garage.

"I'm right here," he said.

She looked at him through the screen. He opened it and stepped outside. Folding his arms over his wide chest, he gave his daughter a questioning look.

"Am I in trouble?" she asked.

Her friends Caleb, Trudy, and Aisha waved at her and kick-pushed their skateboards toward their houses while yelling hello to him.

"You baked those cookies for Miss Allegra. Not a school party."

Pilar gave him a sheepish grin.

"What did you write in the note?"

"I just said something like…welcome to the neighborhood. Enjoy these homemade cookies. Then I put your name on it."

"Just my name?"

"Yes."

"She brought the plate back and made us some banana bread."

"Ooh!" Pilar said, rubbing her hands together. "My plan is set in motion."

"What plan?"

"Dad…c'mon. Miss Allegra is the best-looking woman around here. I think you should ask her out on a date."

"I don't need my ten-year-old setting us up."

Pilar put a hand on her hip.

"Well, Auntie Brianna and Auntie Sloane said she's gorgeous and they think you should get to know her. She might be your perfect fit."

"How would they know? They've never seen her."

"I snuck a picture of her on my phone and sent it to them."

"Why the sudden interest in getting me to date?"

Pilar's gaze dropped to the ground.

"No reason. She's new and you don't go out as much anymore."

"That's because I have to take care of you. You're my priority. Dating can always come later."

He stepped aside and let her come in with her skateboard.

"It was a nice thing you did…giving her the cookies," he said.

Pilar grinned.

Terry was an adept father and took pride in keeping a meticulous home, and his child put together well when she exited the front door. Two weeks before Thanksgiving, Pilar started coming home from school with wildly disheveled hair. Even if he put protective styles in with twists or high buns with little curls framing her face with cute tendrils, his daughter returned looking like her head went through a blender.

She'd claim it was the weather. Bad rainfall, or the wind messing it up, but for ten school days, she rolled back home with her hair every which-way, rubber bands busted, barrettes missing, and knocker ball hair bobbles vanished into thin air. She'd roll through, and each time, their neighbor Allegra would be outside collecting her mail. Pilar would wave and say "Hi!" really loud and Allegra responded in kind before stepping back into her house.

He assumed she wanted her hair out, craving to wear hairstyles like her older girl cousins. Rather than make a big deal about it, he started putting a headband on her.

One Saturday afternoon, Pilar played outside on the curved part of the cul-de-sac with her friends, kicking a soccer ball into Caleb's two netted goal posts. A typical loud day of children freely running around screaming and playing in the street. Pilar rocked a bushy 'fro and had the loudest voice out of the bunch.

He kept an eye out for them while watching a football game by leaving his livingroom shades open. Snacking on some chips, he turned his head to check on the action outside.

He quickly ducked his head down low.

Allegra played outside with the children.

Terry hid behind the couch and secretly watched Allegra interact with the neighborhood kids doing soccer ball tricks with her knees and sneaker'd feet. She kicked the ball to Pilar and his daughter charged her, heading for a goal post. Allegra wasn't shy about her defensive moves and easily swiped the ball away from his daughter, kicking it with a curved arc into the opposite goal post. All the children squealed in delight and high-fived her. She stepped aside to let the children continue their boisterous match up.

Terry's back ached from being hunched over spying. Pilar spoke to Allegra for a long time, ignoring her friends, and her bouncy energy kept a smile on the woman's face. Allegra glanced toward his open window and Terry dropped to the floor, hiding his body.

He waited five minutes.

"Why are you on the floor, Daddy?"

Pilar stood above him with a quizzical expression. She'd come in the house through the garage door.

"Stretching my back out," he said.

"But you're on your stomach."

"Can I help you with something?" he said, standing up.

Outside, Allegra stood watching him through the window.

"I asked Miss Allegra how she kept her hair so pretty and she told me her hair care routine. I'm coming to get a pen and paper for her to write it down so you can take care of my hair."

"What? I know how to take care of your hair! I've been doing it since you were born."

Pilar grabbed a Bic pen and tore a piece off some junk mail envelope sitting on the coffee table.

"Daddy, please. Work with me here. I've been looking raggedy for two weeks to get her attention. She finally asked about my curls and I asked about her hair."

Pilar dashed out the front door before he could stop her. She handed Allegra the pen and paper. Terry became flustered. His daughter pretended to be unkempt to fool a grown woman into having sympathy for him.

Allegra scribbled on the paper outside and he felt exposed for something that wasn't true. Pilar ran back into the house through the front door and handed him the half envelope. Most of what Allegra listed, Terry already had in his bathroom for his daughter.

However…she wrote her phone number down, too.

"Boo-ya!" Pilar said, flinging her fingers open like an explosion going off.

"Come into the kitchen with me," he said.

Pilar followed him.

"Sit," he commanded.

He stuffed the half envelope in his back pocket.

"Pilar…babygirl…I know you mean well, but please…stop the antics."

"But Daddy—"

"I mean it."

His voice went down an octave, his baritone sounding harsh. Pilar ran from the kitchen table and stomped loudly up the stairs. He closed his eyes in frustration and waited fifteen minutes before going upstairs.

Pilar cried on her bed. Her loud bawling startled him.

"Munchkin…I'm not mad…I just…you don't have to do this."

"I do!" she wailed.

He sat in his usual spot and let her get her emotions out. She eventually calmed down to gaspy shudders and sad moans of pain. He brushed her hair back, and she threw her arms around his neck.

"I don't want you being alone. Mom married somebody and now she gets to be happy. I want you to be happy, too, Daddy."

"Munchkin, I am happy. I have you…grampy and grandma, your aunts, my friends—"

She shook her head against his neck.

"It's not the same as having someone for yourself. I'll grow up and go to college and you'll be here by yourself. Everyone in our family has someone. Grampy has Grandma, Auntie Brianna has Uncle Mitch…Auntie Sloane has Uncle Kenny. Even Auntie Monique has her boyfriend Gordon. I'm scared for you, Daddy. You're such a good, kind person and you deserve what Mommy has."

Pilar burst into more tears and his eyes grew blurry. He wiped them and pulled back from his daughter.

"It's not your responsibility to worry about me. My job is to worry about you, hear me?"

Pilar kept crying. Her nose ran, but she nodded at his words.

"When the time comes for me to find my special someone…it'll happen. Naturally. Understand?"

"Y-Y-Yessss," she blubbered.

He kissed her forehead and used his thumbs to wipe away warm tears.

"Can I tell you something that will make you happy?"

"O-O-Okayyyy," she choked out.

"Your Mom and 'that man' agreed to change their plans back to coming out for Christmas. And, I don't have to trade Thanksgiving."

"For real?"

"For real. In fact, Bryson urged your mother to reconsider, and he rescheduled the cruise for next year. He's not so bad, huh?"

Pilar sniffled, and her swollen red eyes pained him.

"I guess not."

"Let's make a deal, okay? You don't worry about hooking me up and just enjoy being a little girl with a happy father."

"Are you happy?"

"I am. I have you and a very full life. Promise. Go wash your face and get back outside with your friends."

"Okay, Daddy."

She jumped off the bed and ran to the hall bathroom. He went to her bedroom window and peeked out from the blinds. Allegra went back into her home. He pulled the scrap of envelope from his back pocket and stared at her phone number.

Saturday afternoons were usually Terry and Pilar's time to decompress and watch movies together. Sometimes there was a slumber party with her cousins at their house or one of his sister's. But on this particular Saturday, it was football fever on the flatscreen TV with his buddies while Pilar was at her grandparents' house.

Terry had plenty of pizzas and beer, and his sound system blasted the play-by-play of the game. He enjoyed the company of his buddies, all Black men with families, and very little free time except for the small moments of respite at Terry's place. The Steelers beat the Commanders and the guys talked shit, then they played his AuxGod Hip Hop Edition game. He rapped his ass off while playing Nas's "One Mic" on his smartphone and got his friends hyped to share R&B music. They all howled when someone messed up playing the wrong songs based on cards they pulled, thinking they had the perfect jam. Good clean fun.

The afternoon wound down into late evening and he cleaned up pizza boxes and empty beer cans. His friends bumped fists and gave each other dap as they left out the front door. Rain started falling, and he noticed Allegra pulling into her driveway. The late hour had him guessing she had a night out again. Her job didn't keep her from a busy social life. He often caught sight of her coming and going on the weekends. One time, another car brought her home and stayed overnight in her driveway.

He waved his friends away and pulled out his cell to call his father.

"Hey Junior," his father said.

"Hey, Pops. How's it going over there?"

"Good. The girls are playing and your mama is letting them stay up late to watch some Godzilla movie on Amazon Prime."

"I wanted to say goodnight to Pilar."

"No problem, hold on…Pilar! Your Dad is on the phone!"

Terry waited for his daughter, and soon enough, her voice rang in his ear.

"Hey, Dad."

"Being good?"

"Of course. What time are you picking me up tomorrow?"

"After you get back from church."

"Aw man. You can't get me early, so I don't have to go?"

"I had to suffer through it. It's your turn now."

"But they take forever. Even God goes to sleep by the time that preacher gets done."

"Hey, don't blaspheme, and don't you two keep Grampy and Grandma up too late, okay?"

"We won't. Night, Dad!"

Terry swiped his smartphone and noticed Allegra's car lights were still on. She hadn't left her driveway. He guessed she was talking on her cell phone.

His house smelled of cigars, pepperoni, and Budweiser. He finished cleaning up and sprayed the dining room with air freshener. Rolling his neck muscles, he climbed up to his bedroom. His blinds were open, and he checked the street again.

Allegra stood near her car in the rain looking up at the sky. She stuck her tongue out, tasting the droplets, and spun around in a circle with her arms outstretched. He smiled. She looked like a big kid having fun.

The rain drenched her hair, and she swiped it back, her tresses turning into slick ringlets. The playfulness she exuded cracked something open inside of him. Maybe Pilar was right. Maybe he did want someone to share his life with. He and Allegra barely exchanged enough words in passing for him to sense that she would be open to going out for a coffee or dinner. She never got back to him about the bookshelves, and he never called her phone number to ask about the hair care products she suggested for Pilar.

His confidence in asking women out had waned that year. Each time he thought he might want to spend time with a woman, schedules didn't match up, or he didn't feel that pull to pursue a relationship. The spark wasn't there. Part of him was afraid to put his heart back out there. His ex, Yolanda, had been a heartbreak he finally let go of two years ago. It frightened him into not wanting to be vulnerable with another woman again. Romantic love was for the brave, and Terry was not feeling brave anymore.

But Allegra?

After shaking her arms, she finally went inside her house, not caring that her snazzy outfit was soaked clear through to her skin. He looked at his dresser. The envelope with her number sat next to his hairbrush.

He texted her number.

Hi, Allegra. This is your neighbor, Terry. I was going to pick up some lumber at Home Depot tomorrow and wanted to know if you were still interested in getting bookshelves made? No rush to answer. I'm always going there every other week. If you changed your mind, that's cool, too.

He sent it off, and seconds later, she rang him up.

"Hello?"

He sounded breathless.

"Hi…Terry? It's Allegra…from across the street. Got your message."

"Oh, great. Sorry for texting so late. I was about to turn in and wanted to ask you before I forgot and left tomorrow."

He winced. His words came out in a rush of nervous energy.

"I do want the bookshelves made. I've been so busy I just never got around to measuring anything. Could you come by tomorrow before you leave and take a look at my floor space? You'd have a better idea of measurements than I would."

Terry stared at his reflection in the mirror. His eyes turned into saucers.

"I can do that. I've got to pick up my daughter from church tomorrow at one. I can drop by with my digital tape measure before then and then go to Home Depot."

"Can I go with you? I'd like to see the wood you're considering besides the maple you told me about."

"Uh…sure."

"What time should I expect you over here?"

"Let's say ten?"

"Great, see ya then."

"Goodnight."

He hung up, stunned.

She wanted to go with him to the Depot?

"So, what do you think? Two shelves here and then two more in my office room?"

Allegra watched him make final calculations on his phone. He surveyed her living room set-up one more time to ensure efficient use of her space. They'd spent a good twenty minutes upstairs in her stylish office and he made a quick sketch on his notepad of the shelving unit he could make for her in there. She would pay for the wood and any extra supplies he needed, and he insisted on doing the work for free.

The layout in her house was roomy and leaned toward a mid-century modern styled interior. She liked rich and luxurious wood furniture with mustard yellow and avocado-colored accents. Her home fit her personal style the way he imagined it would. It had a timeless quality. He told her a little about the family that lived there before she bought the place, and the conversation meandered into her own hobbies of painting and gardening. She showed him her patio space in the back and he offered to build her plant containers to grow her favorite flowers. Those were easy to put together and would be cheaper than her buying them pre-made online.

He learned that she had been a highschool soccer star, and that talent landed her a full-ride scholarship to Brown University where she almost landed a spot on the Olympic team. But a skiing accident ruined her shot. She still liked to watch the game and play occasionally.

Allegra worked from home mostly as an In-House attorney for a legal firm with document heavy cases, thus the need for bookshelves to hold all her law books. She did contract reviews, legal research, and dealt with a lot of intellectual property research for her clients.

Terry listened to her talk about herself, and her warm personality gave him the courage to open up about himself. Of course, he bragged about Pilar, and on their way to Home Depot, he pointed out places of interest to her.

"I always wanted to live in a small town," she said. "I grew up in New England, but my grandparents were from here, so I had annual trips for holidays and always liked it. Now that I can work remotely from home, I put stakes in the ground and live here full time. Getting away from the east coast has been a relief. This place makes me happy."

"We love it here. Excellent schools, nice people who look out for each other."

"It's just you and Pilar?"

"Yep. My ex remarried and moved to Europe."

"Co-parenting overseas must be rough."

"Yolanda…my ex…she recently moved there. It's going to be a change for sure. I'm used to Pilar flying a quick hop to Atlanta. Now, she'll have partial summers there and I don't know if I can handle her flying so far away where I can't get to her fast, y'know?"

"I had to do it when I was young. My parents divorced when I was twelve. I hopped from Boston to England to stay with my dad and his new wife on my school breaks. My mother was a nervous wreck at first, but you adjust."

"I hope so. I try to be stoic for Pilar, but I know I'll be in shambles when she flies out there next year."

Allegra laughed and the sound of her voice so close comforted him.

"I'll help talk you down when those nerves kick up," she said.

They walked up and down aisles at the Home Depot, and since he was a regular, the workers there were quick to help him because he didn't waste time. Terry explained the different type of wood options and they compared prices. He did his best to keep costs down for her, and she went along with whatever he thought was best. She'd seen his work output and trusted his skills.

He loaded up the truck bed, and they swooped over to his grandparents' church to pick up Pilar. His daughter's eyes widened when she noticed Allegra sitting in the truck. She ran past Terry and chatted with Allegra. He soon introduced his parents to her, and they invited her to attend a church service in the future.

Pilar hopped in the seat behind Allegra, and he drove them back to their home.

"I'll unload this and start working on your shelving units tomorrow," he said.

"Great."

Pilar watched them interact. She wore the goofiest grin on her face.

Allegra took off across the street and he watched her leave along with Pilar. When she was outside of earshot, Pilar grabbed his arm.

"You hung out with her?" she enthused.

"We talked about her bookshelves."

"So you went inside her house and spent time with her, right?"

"I did."

"Isn't she cool? She plays soccer, and she likes monster movies…"

Pilar stopped gushing about Allegra.

"I forgot. You told me not to interfere."

"I might've been wrong about that," he said.

Pilar's face lit up.

"Oh, yeah?"

"I like her. She's really nice and smart."

"My work here is done," Pilar said.

She skipped into the house, and he unloaded the truck.

Making bookshelves and planter boxes was the beginning.

Next came inviting Allegra over for football game gatherings with his family.

He introduced her to his oldest sister who gave birth to a baby boy, her first, and he watched Allegra nervously hold the newborn with trepidation in her eyes.

"You got it…just hold his head like this and keep him close to you…yeah, see, you got it," he said.

Terry's new nephew was a little chocolate drop.

"He's so tiny and adorable," Allegra said.

All of his sisters liked her, and his mother took the grand gesture of inviting her to join them on their family Christmas trip. Allegra looked genuinely receptive to the idea, but she already had plans to fly out to Boston to spend the winter holiday with her family. Terry felt bummed about it and realized that he was catching feelings for her.

He kept their budding friendship platonic, but by the following spring, it was clear to everyone around them that something was blooming past friendship. They hadn't been physical with each other yet, not even kissing. He liked the slow, easy pace. It gave him time to know her before jumping into anything serious, especially since he had Pilar to think of.

His daughter was crazy about Allegra.

He was too.

As time ticked on and it grew closer to the time that Pilar would have to fly overseas, his anxiety spiked. He was not planning on attending the celebration. His former sister-in-law, Zarah, was going to fly the long distance with Pilar to Rome.

The day his daughter was to leave, he paced in his living room, going over Pilar's packing list several times. Allegra hung out with him, reassuring him that all would be well. Zarah was on her way in a Lyft to pick up Pilar. They all thought it best that he say his goodbyes from home and not go to the airport.

"Go to the restroom one more time before you leave," he told his daughter.

Pilar ran upstairs to her bathroom.

"I'm going to put the roast in the oven for our dinner tonight," Allegra said. "Be right back."

He walked her outside of his home. When Allegra reached the sidewalk, she turned around to face him. For the first time, she slid her arms around his waist and looked up at him.

"You're a great Dad, Terry. Pilar is so lucky to have you…and so am I."

Terry locked eyes with her, and any fears he had about taking a chance on finding love melted away.

"May I kiss you?" he asked.

Her eyes twinkled like she'd been waiting her whole life to hear him say those four words.

"Yes, you may, Mr. Richmond."

He placed his forehead against hers first and savored the moment before the moment. Yes, he deserved someone for himself. His wily daughter had been so correct in her assessment of him. Forever grateful for Pilar's push to get him out into the world with the special woman in his arms, Terry lowered his head and kissed Allegra.

His full, lush lips were nothing compared to the soft place of comfort he found pressed against her mouth. Her lips coaxed a passion out of him he hadn't felt in years. He kept the kiss a little below chaste…she gave him a little teasing of her tongue to entice him for more later, when they would be alone. His grin broke their physical contact and the butterflies in his stomach told him she was the one to take a chance with.

He pushed a fluffy bang away from her left eye and Allegra glanced up toward his second floor. Terry followed her gaze, and they both glimpsed Pilar looking down at them from her bedroom window. She fist-pumped her right hand, and the expression she gave them was pure joy.

Her little plan worked.

Author's Note:

I wanted to write something fast and fluffy to put out the day after the horror of that anti-Black orange menace being put back in office by racist white people and their non-Black PoC racist minions. Black women need soft, joyful things to get us through. We all we got. Remember that.

[writingsbytee]

HIDDEN PT. 2

TERRY RICHMOND x BLACK FEM READER

WARNINGS / TRIGGERS: SFW; minors do not interact; mentions of domestic violence; self-hate; angst; Terry is hard to read in the beginning.

SUMMARY: You’ve been working at Terry’s club for about a week now and you’re finally getting the hang of things. There might be a little jealous Terry in here if you squint. This “chapter” might be dialogue heavy. No Smut (yet!)

TROPES: grumpy x sunshine ; “touch her and die”; slow burn; 

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Okaaay!! Part 2 is now available!! I hope you guys enjoy it. I’m really trying to work on my dialogue skills and some world building so bare with me. The SMUT will come soon, I just want you guys to get to know my version of Terry and Daphne.

WORD COUNT: 2.4K

PREVIOUSLY ON HIDDEN: 1

DAPHNE

“Girl! I see why you never left this job! The tips alone are enough to cover rent this month,” I said looking at the wad I already had in my mini apron. 

Lexi nodded, “See, what did I say? You won’t have to go back to the hospital for a while.” I contemplated the idea, sure the break from the physically, mentally, and emotionally draining job is nice. But, helping people, caring for them, that’s my passion. I’ll go back when I’m ready. As I wait for Lexi to make the next round of drinks for the police commissioner’s table, I turn and take in my surroundings.

The club is so unique. With a sunken lounge area and the circular light fixtures it almost has a 60s vibe. But with the seductive lighting and R&B playing it feels like a jazz club. Lexi slides the finished tray of drinks my way and I head towards the commissioner’s table. 

“Our favorite girl is back!” one of them shouted. They were all very close to being drunk, the drinks in my hand should do the job. 

“That’s me!” I said with my million dollar smile. I could already tell what kind of men I was dealing with, pretty boys who never heard the word ‘no’. I place all their drinks down and ask them if there’s anything else I can get them. 

“Aww c’mon leaving so soon? Stay and chat with us for a little while,” one of the men said. I huffed out a fake laugh, “I wish, but I’ve got to finish up my training”. They all boo’d in protest, but I just shrugged my shoulders and backed away. Breathing a sigh of relief I make my way back towards Lexi.

“Ouu girl, they like you,” she said laughing at me, 

I rolled my eyes, “I don’t wanna hear shit when the car is gassed up and the fridge is full. If they keep tipping me like this they can like me all they want,” i said cleaning off the counter. The lights started to dim as someone walked on stage. Out of my periferie I see Terry’s office door open. 

“Oop there go your man,” Lexi whispers in my direction. I huff out an annoyed breath, “Stop calling him that! What if someone hears you!” I whisper-shout, throwing my rag at her. Okay, so I might've developed a teeny-tiny crush on Terry. I don’t know how anyone can look at that man and not get swept up in his beauty. I keep it professional obviously, and it’s not even like he notices. Terry’s barely said two words to me since I started here. I sneak a peek at Terry over my shoulder and I feel my canine sink into my lower lip as I take in his attire.  

Dressed in a simple black long sleeve and matching black cargos and timberland boots. With the gold mini cuban link chain and glasses to top the look off, he’s any woman’s wet dream.

“Damn, Daphne could you be any more obvious?” Lexi asked, laughing at me. 

“Oh, shut up! Look at him, he’s too fine for his own good” I whisper, turning back toward my sister. I feel like a high school girl with a crush. I need to get a grip, fast. I grabbed the ice bucket, heading to the back to fill it up. I need to put some distance between myself and the green-eyed giant. I’ve only been working here about a week and I feel like I’m finally getting a hang of things. I bring the ice out and make my way over to my side of the bar. 

Eli, the police commissioner’s son, has become one of my regulars. After his dad leaves Eli usually stays to hit on whoever is within earshot. Tonight it looks like that’s me, “There she is!” he shouted, eyes low in his liquor induced haze. 

“Someone needs to get cut off I see,” I say, chuckling at Eli’s dopey grin. He groans, “Aww c’mon baaaby. Don’t b-be like that.” Eli reaches for my hand to grab my attention. Before he could open his mouth, the deep, sexy voice of my boss cuts him off.

“Eli quit harassing my staff before I cut you off,” Terry says, sliding into the seat next to Eli. 

“Don’t worry ‘bout it T-man! It’s allllll good,” Eli said, his words starting to blend together.

“Annnd, you’re cut off. Eli give me your phone so I can get you an Uber,”I say, making grabby hands at Eli. He smirks peering over at Terry who looks like he’d rather be anywhere but here. “See, told you she wanted me,” he said, nudging his elbow into Terry’s ribs. I roll my eyes not wanting to satisfy him with a response. Eli’s cute, don't get me wrong, but I’m just not interested.

“Actually someone’s coming to relieve you Daphne, I need you in the back,” Terry says leaning up on the counter. My eyes widened as I looked over at Terry. He just smirks and nods his head toward the door marked ‘employees only’. I nod before wiping my hands off on my pants and head towards that door. I glance over my shoulder to see Terry whisper something in Eli’s ear before he makes his way toward me. 

“Ready for your first assignment?” Terry asks as he makes his way to me. 

A dry chuckle leaves my mouth, “Will it be worse than that?” I ask, pointing my thumb in Eli’s direction. 

Terry’s shoulders shake with quiet laughter, “I hope not, here, c’mon they’re right through here”

I knew Terry was serious about using my medical side to help him out, I just didn’t think it’d be so soon. My mind blanks as I try to shift my focus to that of a 3 year trauma/ICU nurse. Not knowing what I’m walking into I take off my rings and bracelets as we enter the door. Terry leads me down what appears to be basement stairs and then leads me to another door. Before we go in he turns to me standing shoulder-width apart with his hands crossed in his front (REFERENCE).

s it just me or did it get ten degrees hotter in here?

“This kind of goes without saying but, you don’t say anything about what goes on behind this door,” Terry said.

With a nod of my head I say, “Of course not, now let’s see what I’ve gotten myself into yea?”

TERRY

“Gunshot wounds!? Terry, what do you expect me to do with this?!” Daphne asked, examining the semi-conscious man laying on the table. I watched carefully as she threw her locs up in a messy bun and went to work on her “patient”.

“They’re just flesh wounds, mostly just need patching up. You can do that right sweetheart?” I ask leaning back against the door. She rolls her eyes and mumbles out a ‘yeah’. That eye rolling shit is really starting to get on my nerves with how much it turns me on. 

“What kind of supplies do you have?” She asks looking over at me. 

I move to a storage closet on my right and open the door for her, “In here is everything you should need.”  I grab a cart containing multiple drawers with the supplies she might need (reference). Once I wheel it over to her she pauses and looks at the cart then me. 

“This is a hospital grade crash cart,” Daphne said, raising a brow at me. Damn, she’s pretty when she does that too. 

I nod slowly, “Yes, yes it is. I figured how can I ask you to do a job without the proper equipment.”

She lets out a disbelieving chuckle, “How’d you get all this? And can you get it restocked when I’m done with him?”

“Well I can’t really tell you how I got everything, let’s just say everything has its price. I’ll have it restocked before you have to do this again”, I say. 

Daphne just nods and takes a deep breath before heading to the sink, “Well, I’m going to need an extra hand in here. Do you have time or can you send someone else in here?”

“I’ll stay,” I reply with a shrug. She flashes me a small smile before instructing me to wash my hands in the sink. Once I finish I saddle up beside her and wait for instructions. Daphne hands me a pair of gloves instructing me to put them on. 

“Do you have any medical training?”Daphne asks as she puts a stethoscope to Paul’s (gunshot victim) chest. 

“Basic CPR and some shit I had to do in the field,” I say checking Paul’s heart rate 

“What branch?” 

“Who said I was military?” I ask, smirking at her. 

“Terry, be serious, look at how you stand, how you always sit facing the door, and how you talk. Let’s just say it wasn’t that hard for me to tell. Hand me that syringe that says ‘Morphine’ please,” she smiled at me sweetly, pointing at the aforementioned syringe.

I feel my smirk widen against my will, “You’ve been watching me?” I ask, passing her the syringe. 

She rolls her eyes yet again, “Oh don’t flatter yourself. I spent over a decade in healthcare. 25% of those people are from military backgrounds.” 

“So who was it? Mom or Dad?” I ask, holding pressure on Paul’s wound while she places an IV. 

“Huh?”, she asks, not looking up from her task. I can admire the way her nose scrunches and she bites her lip as she works through her task.

“Who was in the military? Your mom or your Dad?” I ask again. 

Daph lets out a small giggle, “What gave it away?” 

I clear my throat and her eyes meet mine. I move my index finger back and forth pointing at me then her, “Same recognizes same, sweetheart.” She huffs out another small laugh before focusing back in. I’m thinking of one thing and one thing only as we work in comfortable silence, patching Paul up. I need to make her laugh again. 

“My mom, she was in the Navy. She was the best,”I say reaching for my locket that had her picture in it. 

Terry nods before looking at me, “I’m sure she was sweetheart. I’m sorry you lost her so soon”. He’s got the prettiest eyes. They’re so expressive I feel like he’s saying more to me with just a look than he ever could with words. 

2.5 HOURS LATER

DAPHNE

When Terry and I exit the basement his club is empty.  “That was good work in there Daph,” Terry said, eyeing me appreciatively. 

“Well it was a simple plug and patch like you said, you probably could’ve done it,” I say, rubbing my hand against the back of my neck. 

Terry takes a step toward me, “You sore?”

“Yeah a tiny bit, it’s been a while since I had to do that. I’ll be fine,” I say, straightening my spine and shifting my hips from side to side. 

“Here let me,” Terry moved behind me, placing his hands at the base of my neck. My spine straightened like a stick was shoved straight up my ass. He starts to knead the stiff muscles in my neck and I feel my shoulders start to slump. He continues to knead and massage the back of my neck. I don’t even notice that I’m leaning back against him.

“Mmm that feels nice,” I say, leaning my hand to the side. He’s so close I can feel his exhale against my neck, I know he can see the goosebumps. 

“Yeah?” he says. I don’t know if I’m imagining it or not but it feels like his lips brush my neck. Before I can say anything else, there’s a knock on the door. I can feel Terry tense up behind me, like somebody poured a bucket of ice water down his back.  

“Go to the back, get your stuff, and leave,” Terry said, taking a step back from me like I burned him. My mind was reeling, I just silently nodded and turned to make my way back to the locker room. Who was at the door that made him shift his whole persona? I’m putting all my shit in my tote back when I hear my phone ring from somewhere inside it. Once I find it I tap the green button putting the phone up to my ear.

“Hey Lex, I’m about to leave now,” I say, slinging my bag over my shoulder. 

“Perfect, I got a ride from Princess. I put my keys in your coat pocket so you wouldn’t have to Uber by yourself this late,” my oh so considerate sister says. 

“You’re too good to me. Dinner on me tomorrow, “ I say, finding the keys she mentioned. Lexi and I yap for a few minutes before we say our goodbyes. Leaving the locker room I bump right into Terry.

“Oh! Sorry didn’t see you there,” I hate how awkward and strained my voice sounds. Terry’s eyes are unreadable as he looks through me. 

“Time to go, I’ll walk you out,” he said then abruptly turned and started down the hallway. 

“What the fuck?” I mumble to myself. I know we aren’t best friends or anything, but I thought that Terry and I were at least breaking down that wall ‘boss/ employee’ relationship between us. I thought we could at least have some sort of civility toward one another. I follow him out towards the main floor of the club and make my way towards the door. There’s a group of men sitting in the center of the club, they all look hella shady. I pick up my pace a little bit so I can get the hell out of there. 

“Daphne?,” I hear as I walk past the table. I look up toward the voice and my blood runs cold. What the fuck is Rafa’s brother doing here?

AUTHOR'S NOTE:  okay, okay. I know this one is short but the next one will be longer I promise. I kind of just wanted to focus on a little bit of character building because this is going to be a series. Let me know what you guys think! 

TAGLIST: 

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