#terry richmond x black character

[ch33z3grits]

Crimson Obsessions | A Terry Richmond Vampire Series

pairing: Aaron Pierre as Terry Richmond x Justine Skye as Camille DeWaterson

warnings: 18+ mdni, heavy angst, parental issues (especially daddy issues), mentions of sexual coercion, description of panic attacks, CRASHING OUT, dark romance, manipulation, possessiveness/obsessiveness, mentions of arson

word count: 11,953

a/n: ngl this part has a lot going on y'all 😭 but stuff is really hitting the fan now! i rushed editing because i'm working for the rest of the night, so pls forgive any mistakesss. Enjoy! Also, shout out to all those who comment and reblog 🥹🫶🏾 i greatly appreciate it

Terry's song: Floor 555-XXXTENTACION | Camille's song: I'm Tired-Labrinth, Zendaya

Pt. Seven

Terry

Terry seemed stoic as he looked around the unassuming bar, but a dull anxiety twisted in his chest. The cryptic message he received the night before, from someone claiming to be a friend, had gnawed at him all day. His mind went through endless scenarios as he sat in back-to-back meetings with Houston's top attorneys. He barely registered the names and faces around him, his thoughts consumed with concern about who he could possibly be meeting. Was it a set-up? Was it just bullshit? He couldn’t wait for 7:00 PM to arrive so he could finally wrap his mind around the situation.

But now, the time had finally come. He slid into a booth, his eyes briefly darting to the clock on the wall. 6:40. Twenty minutes early, just the way he liked it. He didn’t want to walk into any more surprises. To distract himself, he tapped away at his phone. But his attention shifted as he sensed someone approach his table. At first, he glanced up lazily, thinking that it was probably a waiter or another patron. But his eyes did a double take when he recognized the familiar cut of the woman’s hair. His pulse quickened in surprise, but he kept his composure as she slid into the seat across from him.

It was Kali. Camille’s doting, loyal best friend. Someone Terry had crossed paths with only a handful of times. Since receiving that message, Terry had spent countless hours turning over possible identities in his mind, trying to predict who the mystery person might be. But he had never once considered her. Now, as she sat across from him, he couldn’t help the storm of questions flooding his mind: How did she get my number? Why all the secrecy? What does she know about me and Camille?

She gave him a partial smile as she set her bag next to her, prompting Terry to slide his phone into his pocket.

“Terry, it’s good to see you again,” she said, folding her hands in front of her. Terry quickly analyzed her body language and demeanor. Although friendly, she was keeping her guard up. Her no-nonsense attitude was evident in the minor stiffness of her shoulders and the seriousness of her eyes. Her smile was polite, but it also held a quiet intensity. This isn’t just a conversation, Terry thought. It’s an interrogation. He tilted his head, letting his curiosity crack through his facade. “It’s good to see you too, Kali. Forgive me if I’m jumping ahead, but what is this about?”

She drummed her fingers on the table slightly, never breaking eye contact with him.

“I know you're probably wondering why I had to be anonymous when I reached out,” she began. “But I needed to see if my gut was right. I needed to see if you really have feelings for Camille.” She didn’t wait for him to respond. “Honestly, Terry... I just want the best for my friend,” she said, her voice softening. “She’s such a sweet girl who deserves someone who will treat her the way she deserves to be treated. And from what I’ve seen, that might be you.” Terry almost smirked.

“You probably didn’t realize it,” she continued, her eyes narrowing slightly, “but I saw the way you two were at the hospital. The way you looked at each other. All that unspoken tension. I even noticed how you kissed her hand.” She lowered her voice, the words taking on a more confidential tone.

Terry clenched his jaw at the mention of the hand-kissing. He should have been more aware of his surroundings that day, but he was too caught up in his mistake. The memory of that moment, the tenderness in his touch, the closeness between him and Camille, made him feel vulnerable. Please don’t use this against me, he thought.

“That’s how I got your number, by the way,” she added. “You wrote it down on her visitor sheet.” She paused, taking a slow sip of the water a waiter had brought earlier, her eyes still locked on his. 

“I guess what I’m trying to say,” she resumed, “is that I like you for her. But that’s just based on what I’ve seen so far. In reality, I don’t really know you. So I’m here to see if helping you out is worth it. If it’s the right thing for me to do.” 

Terry’s initial surprise morphed into respect. He leaned back slightly in his seat, letting her words settle. She had come at him with such directness, such unflinching confidence. It wasn’t easy to impress him so quickly, but Kali had done it with grace and precision. Terry’s posture softened. He wasn’t worried anymore. He was more than capable of getting Kali’s blessing.

Terry folded his arms across his chest and leaned forward. His voice was calm but laced with a hint of amusement. “I gotta say, Kali,” he began, “I respect your approach.” He leaned in just a fraction more. “Please, ask away. I’ve got nothing to hide.”

Kali hummed thoughtfully. “I’ve done my homework on you,” she said, her tone remaining serious but laced with a hint of admiration. “I know the basics. Your military background, your golden-boy status in the legal world, and the wealth you’ve accumulated from your various businesses. But what really interests me is where your mind is when it comes to Camille.”

She leaned in just a little more. “So, let me ask you this. In a perfect world, where Camille wasn’t engaged to that motherfucker Aston, what would your intentions be with her?”

Terry couldn’t help but let a soft chuckle escape. His thoughts shifted to a world where Camille was free, where no one stood between them. The idea was a fantasy he had imagined more than once.

“In that world?” he began. “My intentions would be exactly what they are now. Instead, I could actually act on those intentions fully. I would court her, take my time, treat her like a princess. And then, marriage would be the end goal.” His words were measured but heartfelt as he watched her reaction. “She’s far too precious to settle for someone so… undeserving,” he grumbled bitterly.

Terry let that sink in for a moment, before continuing. “Not to be cocky, but I know Camille would love being with me. I’d cater to her every whim, she’d never have to worry for any reason.”

He propped his arms on the table, his voice more vulnerable. “But more than that, Kali... I can honestly say that I’m in love with her. I want nothing less than the best for her. I’d move heaven and earth to make sure she never had to feel stressed or unhappy ever again. I would happily give her that life, at whatever cost.” 

Kali practically turned into butter right before him. Her eyes softened with respect and admiration, her shoulders relaxed. Even though she simply nodded, he knew she was impressed by his response. He had her. 

But as much as he enjoyed the feeling of winning her favor, Terry’s mind was already working. He needed to steer this conversation in a direction that would give him something in return. He needed to understand what Kali could offer him at this moment. So he turned to his favorite manipulation tactic: feigning innocence.

Terry offered her the sweetest smile. “I’m hoping I’ve passed your little test, Kali,” he said, his voice laced with deliberate humility. “But now, I have to ask. What do you really think I can do? You see, Camille... she’s just so loyal. Nothing I do gets through to her. Every time I try to suggest that I’m interested, she shuts me out. I’ve been nothing but patient, but her engagement feels like a wall. I don’t think I stand a chance. What could I possibly do to break through that?”

For the first time since she sat down, Kali’s confidence wavered. Her gaze dropped, fingers absently using her straw to stir her water. A heavy sigh escaped her lips before her eyes reluctantly met Terry’s once more.

“Honestly, if you’d asked me this yesterday, I wouldn’t have had an answer. Camille would never have even entertained the idea of leaving Aston. But now…” Kali’s voice faltered, clearly holding back something crucial. Terry sensed her hesitation and silently urged her to open up. She sighed again. Sensing an opportunity, Terry decided to give her a nudge.

“Hey, whatever we talk about here stays between us,” Terry said, his tone both reassuring and insistent. She nodded.

“Not to put her business out there, but something happened last night. I don’t know what exactly, but now she’s actually considering leaving him. Like to the point she’s making plans to move out of their apartment. He’s always made her unhappy since…never mind that…” Kali waved her hand dismissively, making Terry internally groan at her refusal to dive into more details. “But recently, things have been different. And whatever last night was, it might have given her the courage she needed. She deserves so much better, but I know how hesitant she can be when it comes to breaking free from him. So, I was hoping…”

Terry’s blood boiled at the thought of how Aston had been treating his woman and the toll it had taken on her. But Terry’s smile remained soft. “So, you want me to pull her away from him. Be more forward with her about how I really feel? Let her know she has options outside of him?” he chuckled.

Kali bit her lip, a gleam of mischief flickering in her eyes.

Terry nodded, his mind already racing through possibilities. She had just given him the green light, blessed him with her approval. He could work with this, he could push harder now. He would take advantage of the fracture in the relationship. And he would start with the little bits of information Kali casually dropped. By the end of the week, Camille would have no reason left to stay with Aston. He’d make sure of it. Hell, he might even use a particularly important event next Saturday to finalize everything.

Camille

Camille sat on Kali’s couch, her body stiff as the person across from her continued to speak in a distant voice about her return to Aston. Each word barely registered in her foggy mind. The past almost twenty-four hours of drowning in sadness had left her empty and numb. But perhaps, in some strange way, this numbness was a blessing. If she could feel something right now, she wasn’t sure what would happen. The thought of lashing out frightened her, so she sat in stillness, her face unreadable, hoping the emptiness would be enough to hold her together.

Camille couldn’t wrap her mind around it. The man sitting across from her, who just moments ago, listened as she shared what had happened to her the previous night, was now relentlessly urging her to go back to Aston. He wanted her to pretend and put on a mask of normalcy, as if everything was fine. After everything she had shared, all the raw confessions about how miserable she had been, this was his answer? Forgiveness, he said. His words felt like a slap. She couldn’t understand how he could be so insistent.

The man who was supposed to love her more deeply than anyone else, the one she was supposed to look to for guidance and safety. He was supposed to be her protector, the number one man in her life. But now, as she sat there, looking through him, she grew more numb as the seconds passed by. He wasn’t really her father. No, he was a puppeteer. Pulling away at her strings, trying to control the most important aspects of her life. How could he do this? How could he look at her, after everything, and still try to bend her to his will?

“Camille, sweetheart, please, just hear me out,” Colin DeWaterson Sr. said, his voice heavy. He leaned forward, his hands clasped together on the table. “Now, what Aston did, what happened, it was absolutely unacceptable,” he continued, his voice tight. “And I will make sure he gets what he deserves,” he added with a firmness that felt like the faintest attempt at reassurance.

His gaze softened slightly as he continued, his tone shifting to something gentler. “But Camille, this was just a blip in the relationship. A freak accident, something that shouldn’t have happened. Aston’s never hurt you before, right?” His eyes searched hers, seeking any flicker of agreement, any sign that she might see things his way. “He was very apologetic when we talked. I promise, I’m positive this will never happen again,” he insisted, as though his belief in Aston’s remorse superseded her feelings.

Camille forced herself to tune back into the conversation, but her only movement was the subtle shift of her eyes locking onto her father. Her body remained coiled in a protective, defensive posture. Legs drawn up tightly against her chest, arms wrapped around her knees. She wanted to disappear into herself, a small, silent ball, and hide from the world that was pressing in around her.

As he droned on, Camille couldn’t even begin to understand why her mom and dad were there in the first place. Surely, Aston’s father must’ve reached out to them after hearing about his son’s outburst, triggering the DeWatersons to catch the first flight to Houston in some desperate attempt to smooth things over. But how they had gotten Kali’s address was beyond her. She never gave it to them, and she sure as hell hadn’t invited them. But the more she thought about it, the more upset she became, quiet anger rising within her like a slow-burning fire.

Her father hadn’t even bothered to wish her a happy birthday yesterday. But now, here he was, moving mountains to fly all the way to Houston, all because the McCoy family had gotten involved. Aston’s tantrum, Aston’s mistake, Aston’s chaos, that’s all he cared about. The nerve of it. He couldn’t even acknowledge her pain or her needs, but somehow, he found the energy to cater to the McCoy family’s crisis. All she could focus on was the simmering anger building within her, the bitter taste of being ignored and forgotten and used as a pawn.

Camille’s gaze flickered toward her mother, sitting silently beside her father, compliant as ever. She caught her mother’s worried expression. It was a look Camille had seen before, but never like this, not with this intensity. It should have been there. Camille had always gone back to Aston, no matter what he did. Every betrayal, every careless mistake, every reckless act of disregard for her well-being. She had forgiven him time and again, from the cheating, to the times he’d forgotten to pay their rent, to the unforgivable moment when he tried to press charges against Kali. Each time, Camille had swallowed her pride and returned to him, hoping that things would be different going forward.

But now, everything was different. This was the line she would not cross. She was certain. She would not be one of those women who stayed silent, who allowed a man to abuse her and walk away without consequences. The thought of Aston’s hands on her struck her with a cold wave of disgust. She wasn’t going back this time, no matter how many times her parents tried to convince her to forgive him. 

“Camille, sweetheart, can you please listen to me?” Her father’s voice pulled her attention back to him, but she didn’t respond. She just stared at him, cold and unwavering. Her father sighed before he turned helplessly toward her mother.

“Can you please talk to your daughter?” He pleaded as he gestured toward Camille’s unmoving form. Her mother, however, simply bit her lip, as she shook her head and lowered her eyes.

“I’m sorry, Colin…” Her mother’s voice was barely audible. “But you got us into this mess yourself.” She paused, her voice tightening as she met her husband’s eyes. “You tell her what you did. Why we’re here.”

Her father’s shoulders sagged as he exhaled shakily, his fingers tapping nervously against the arms of his chair. He deliberately avoided meeting Camille’s gaze, which had shifted to something more curious now, searching his face with intensity.

“Sweetheart, I-I really messed up, okay?” His voice faltered as he spoke. “Please, try not to hold it against me, okay?” He searched her expression, hoping for some flicker of understanding, of forgiveness, but Camille only narrowed her eyes. Why is he acting like this? she thought, her heart racing. Her father stumbled on, voice trembling. “Camille, I’m sorry…b-but you can’t back away from this marriage–”

Before he could finish, Camille cut him off with a humorless snort, the first sound she had made since their arrival.

He let out an awkward, nervous laugh. But it was her mother who broke the silence next, her patience finally wearing thin. With a sharp sigh, she spoke in a tone so uncharacteristic of her, it made Camille’s brow raise in surprise.

“Colin, hurry up and tell her,” she snapped, as though she had finally had enough of quietly enduring her husband’s decisions. This wasn’t the gentle, reserved woman Camille had always known, and that unsettled Camille more than anything her father had said.

Colin cleared his throat, trying to gather his words. He closed his eyes again. “Camille... this marriage isn’t just about you marrying into a rich family,” he started, his voice wavering but firm. “Hell, it isn’t even about me trying to make this family as socially relevant as possible. It’s because I…I-I made a mistake. Probably the worst mistake of my life. Now, we owe that family a lot of money, enough to destroy us financially if this agreement doesn’t go through. Your inheritance. Your siblings’ inheritances. All of our property... Your mother’s cancer treatments, your brother’s psychiatric care... all of that will be ripped from us if you don’t marry Aston. It's all laid out in a legally binding agreement.”

Camille’s body went rigid as her mind tried to process what he was saying. She sprung up into a sitting position, every muscle in her body tight, her hands gripping the edge of the couch.

“What?” Her voice cracked as she barely managed to squeeze out the word. We would lose everything? she thought.

She had already accepted the fact that she would lose her inheritance, that she could never have the life she had sacrificed so much for if she refused to marry Aston. But her family, they were too dependent on the luxuries they had, too tied to their privileges. Losing everything, their money, their possessions, would send them spiraling into a darkness she knew they wouldn’t survive. And her mother’s treatments, her brother’s care…those were essential for them to keep going. The repercussions would be catastrophic. She couldn’t, wouldn’t, let that happen. She loved them more than anything.

But she couldn’t stop the rage that surged through her. “And you fucking agreed to that?” Her voice shook, unable to comprehend that level of betrayal. “In a goddamn contract?!”

Her chest tightened and her vision blurred as the first signs of a panic attack crept in. Her heart pounded in her ears, each beat growing louder, faster. This isn’t real. This can’t be real. Her stomach churned violently.

“Camille, please... j-just let me finish,” her father stammered, his voice cracking as he gestured with trembling hands for her to calm down. She let out a bitter laugh, one that felt foreign in her own mouth. “Yes, please, continue,” her voice full of disgust, wiping tears from her face. He winced at her tone, a ripple of guilt passing over his face, but he pressed on.

“This whole... fiasco has spooked the McCoys,” he continued, his voice low, almost apologetic now. “They want to add a new clause to the contract, and you’ll have to sign it this time. For us to be released from this debt... you’ll have to marry Aston within the next sixty days, and promise to get p-pregnant before the year ends.” He finished, his chin tucking into his chest as if the shame of it were too much to bear.

Camille’s body began to shake uncontrollably, her ears rang, and her leg bounced rapidly. This was beyond anything she had imagined, beyond a nightmare. She was suffocating, and there was nowhere to run.

A sob tore through Camille as she dropped her head into her hands. This can’t be fucking happening, she thought.

Her father’s voice broke through her spiraling mind. “Camille, I know this is hard to digest, and it’s not fair to you at all! But please... our family has no other way out of this. We need you to reconsider–”

Before he could finish, the creak of the front door opening interrupted him, followed by the sight of Kali standing in the doorway, her eyes wide with shock. But once she saw Camille sobbing uncontrollably into her hands, her surprise turned into fury. Without a second thought, she shoved the door open further, propping it open with her body.

“Kali,” Mr. DeWaterson quickly shifted gears, his voice laced with forced enthusiasm. “It’s lovely to see you again–”

“I think it’s time for you both to leave,” she declared, her tone final. She propped the door open wider, a clear invitation to get out, leaving no room for negotiation.

Mr. DeWaterson paused for a moment, caught off guard by Kali’s assertiveness. But after a brief moment of hesitation, he rose from his chair, knowing that any confrontation right now wouldn’t work in his favor. He straightened himself and quickly walked through the door, avoiding Kali’s cutting gaze.

His wife lingered for a moment longer, her face showing that she was conflicted. Her eyes were on Camille, her heart visibly torn as she watched her daughter crumble. But eventually, she just patted Camille’s shoulder lightly. Without another word, she reluctantly followed her husband. Before stepping out, she gave Camille one last glance, guilt and sorrow flashing across her features. But her eyes landed on Kali’s sneer and the moment was over.

Kali slammed the door before rushing to Camille’s side. Although she didn’t have the words, she wrapped her arms around her trembling friend, trying her best to give her comfort.

A few minutes later, Camille’s tears finally stopped. The ache in her chest dulled. The numbness returned. But something was different about it. This numbness ushered in defiance. Rebellion. She was tired of being suppressed by obligation, tired of doing what others expected of her.

No matter how upset she was, she couldn’t let her family spiral into destitution, couldn’t watch them lose everything they relied on. As much as it tore her apart, she knew what she had to do. She would sign whatever damn contract her father needed her to, no matter how horrible the terms were. She would sign her life away to someone she could barely stand to look at, someone who had already taken so much from her. But for now, she was prioritizing her freedom.

She decided that the next sixty days would be the most liberating of her life. No more playing the dutiful daughter. No more walking on eggshells or adhering to the suffocating rules imposed on her for as long as she could remember. She would finally do the things she’d longed for. And she wouldn’t apologize for any of it. Not to her parents, not to anyone. She was done living for their approval, done trying to meet their endless expectations. No matter the consequences.

And next Saturday? It was the perfect opportunity to start.

Watkins & Grant’s highly anticipated summer gala, an event that raised money for various charitable causes, was just days away. It wasn’t just a night of exquisite food and lavish entertainment, it was an event that could open doors. Known for its exclusivity and opulence, the event would draw in the who’s-who of powerful figures from the legal, business, and philanthropic worlds. Because of that, her father begged her to get them as many tickets as she could. She could only snag two, so her father and mother would be in attendance.

At first, she hated the idea of her parents observing her social mannerisms while she was at a work event. And, of course, Aston’s family would be in attendance too. But she couldn’t care less about that now. Instead, this would be her chance to make sure everyone knew that she was fed up with it all.

Stephanie's song: Toxic-Britney Spears

Stephanie

Stephanie felt like she was on cloud nine as she snuggled into the arm of her date to the Watkins & Grant gala. Being on the arm of Terry, dressed in the finest jewels and most beautiful gown, had Stephanie smiling from ear to ear. It was the perfect ending to a perfect week. Monday had marked Terry’s return to the office after a three-day conference hosted by a rival firm, and Stephanie couldn’t deny the thrill of having him back in the building, giving her some much needed eye candy. Tuesday had brought a delightful surprise: Terry asked her to be his date to the gala. Though the invitation sent her heart racing, she held her excitement back. She was more than ecstatic that he was finally giving her the attention she craved, but Stephanie wasn’t about to make it too easy for him. So, she set the terms: If he spent the night at her place, she'd consider his offer. So she spent Tuesday night with her ankles on Terry’s shoulders, getting the good fucking she deserved. On Wednesday afternoon, Terry had generously offered to buy her a dress for the event. Two hours and $6,000 later, Stephanie walked out of an upscale department store with a new evening gown, a gorgeous clutch, and the most beautiful heels. The price tags were enough to make anyone’s stomach drop, but Terry didn’t flinch. He brushed it off with a nonchalant smile, as though he'd just picked up a quick meal at a fast food place. The indulgence was effortless for him, and she couldn’t help but feel a surge of satisfaction knowing how easily he could spoil her. Thursday, Terry took her out to lunch, letting her feast on the finest sashimi in the city. And Friday, she convinced Mr. Grant to give her the day off to indulge in some much needed beauty treatments. And the cherry on top? Camille, that constant thorn in her side, was nowhere to be seen. Stephanie welcomed the absence of Camille’s insufferable googly eyes aimed at Terry. If it were up to her, Camille would never return. But knowing that her disappearance was likely temporary, Stephanie savored the bit of absence she could get.

She looked up at Terry, who looked edible in his navy blue and black ensemble and wire rimmed glasses, as he led them through the entrance of the event. She bit her lip as she eyed him up and down, sighing as she felt a heat pool between her thighs. He just makes glasses look so sexy, she internally swooned. Stephanie couldn’t help but smile as she soaked in the envious glances and admiring stares that followed them wherever they went. Men and women alike flocked to Terry, eager to shower him with exaggerated compliments, their voices dripping with flattery as they shoved business cards into his hands. Powerful men cast heated, hungry glances her way, their gazes lingering just a little too long, while women studied her with a mix of envy and longing, silently wishing they could be her.

Each look, each gesture, fueled Stephanie's confidence, making her feel invincible. She reveled in the attention. The energy of the night felt electric, as though everything was aligning perfectly. She was certain that whatever came out of this evening would only serve to her benefit, solidifying her future. And it would all be thanks to the small vial tucked away in her clutch.

That aggravating witch had finally gotten back to her Thursday night, letting her know that the love potion was ready. The anticipation had been eating at Stephanie, and she could barely contain her excitement when she made the drive to the shabby building to pick it up. The small, heart-shaped bottle had her in awe. The deep red liquid inside swirled all on its own, moving like liquid fire, full of life and power.

The wait had been exasperating, but she had to admit, it was worth it. Though she would have preferred it to be ready earlier, the timing now felt almost symbolic. Tonight was the night. The gala had become the perfect stage for her plan. Terry, standing at her side, was practically shouting to the world that she was his. This was their moment. Their debut. The world would see them as a couple, and in that spotlight, Stephanie was ready to make sure that they truly were. Once she slipped him that potion, nothing would be the same. He was going to be so wrapped around her finger, he would practically worship her like she was his patron goddess. And she wasn’t going to waste any time making that her reality.

With a soft smile, she unwound her arm from Terry’s and leaned in, planting a gentle kiss on his cheek before lightly patting his chest, a perfect display of affection. “I’m going to grab a drink from the bar, baby. Do you want something?” she asked, her voice sweet and innocent. Inside, she silently urged him to say yes, her heart racing with the thrill of what was about to unfold. Please say yes. Please say yes.

He gave a brief nod, his attention mostly on the person’s hand he was shaking, but managed to give her a sideways glance. “Yeah, can you get me a bourbon on the rocks?” he asked. A smirk curled at the corner of Stephanie's lips. The request for dark liquor was the perfect opportunity, just what she had hoped for. She suppressed a chuckle as she replied with a bright smile, “No problem.” With a slow, deliberate sway of her hips, she glided across the polished floor toward the open bar. Everything is falling perfectly into place.

Aston's song: When Will I See You Smile Again?-BBD

Aston

The ride to the gala was silent. Painfully silent. The kind of silence that amplified every unspoken word. Aston didn’t expect the journey to be filled with light conversation or laughter, but the quiet felt suffocating. He sighed and stole another glance toward Camille, who was curled up on the opposite side of the car, her arms tightly folded across her chest, her gaze fixed on the passing scenery outside the window. 

They hadn’t spoken at all since her birthday, since things had gone horribly wrong… The tension was palpable and he couldn’t shake his regret. The only reason they were even sharing this ride was because her parents communicated how much was riding on her cooperation, how much was at stake if she refused. Still, even with their pressure, she barely made any effort to go beyond the bare minimum.

Aston’s mind wandered back to that night he lost control. He cursed himself for how he had acted. He had never been like that before, and it sickened him to think back on it. But it ultimately wasn’t his fault. Something had triggered his outburst, whatever shit Terry’s goon had slipped him to heal his injuries. But that wasn’t an explanation he could share with Camille. He could never tell her the truth about his gambling. If she knew, it would ruin him. The engagement was already hanging by a thread, and the last thing he needed was for her to pull away completely. He still needed her to sign that renewed contract, to make everything official.

Aston had no idea what had gotten into his parents. He knew there was a debt involved on the DeWaterson side of the arrangement. But a debt worth everything they own and then some? It was nothing short of egregious. But what really left him reeling was the addition of a pregnancy clause. He doubted Camille would even let him near her for that to become a reality. He would give her the space she needed, though. He would be patient, wait for her to warm up to him again. If it took months, years, he didn’t care. In the meantime, he would satisfy his urges through his old lovers.

His thoughts were momentarily broken when, from the corner of his eye, he caught Camille shifting slightly in her seat. She subtly adjusted her gown, smoothing the rich fabric across her lap, and Aston found his breath catching. She looked stunning. The cobalt blue of her dress clung to her form, the deep hue accentuating the richness of her dark brown skin like it had been crafted just for her. A diamond tennis bracelet glistened on her wrist, its subtle elegance matching the sparkle of the earrings that swayed gently as she moved. Her hair was swept up in a sophisticated updo, exposing the delicate curve of her collarbone. Aston adjusted his growing erection, reminding himself that he couldn’t get lost in her, or any other woman, tonight. He had to remember that he came to this event for reasons beyond networking and elbow rubbing. 

For the past week, aside from bombarding Camille’s phone with messages, Aston had been consumed by a different obsession. Every spare moment was spent scouring the internet, searching for any shred of credible information about vampires. He had hoped for something real, something tangible, but most of his efforts led him to Twilight fanfictions or Dracula essays. Hours wasted on fantasy and folklore. He was about to give up until he stumbled upon a Facebook group that seemed promising.

The group owner was a curious character. His posts were chaotic, filled with disjointed rants and a sense of paranoia. But there was also something oddly compelling. The way he described his encounters with supernatural creatures sent a chill down Aston’s spine, reminding him of the terror he’d felt during his own encounters with Terry. That same paralyzing fear. That same helplessness.

Aston posed a question to the group: How can you kill a vampire? 

The replies started flooding in, most of them dismissive or cynical. Many claimed that killing a vampire was impossible. They could only be weakened, some said, but even that required an absurd amount of effort. It was too complicated. But then, among the sea of useless responses, the group owner chimed in. His reply stood out from the rest.

Aston’s pulse quickened as he read it. The suggestion was exactly what he needed to hear.

Aston’s fingers brushed against the inside of his suit jacket, checking once again that the small glass vial of sulfur was still tucked away in the inner pocket. According to the mysterious group owner, the sulfur could be used as a poison for vampires if administered in the right dose. For Camille’s sake and his own, he prayed that the perfect opportunity would present itself, that he’d be able to slip the sulfur into Terry’s drink. Killing the vampire was the only option he felt would secure their safety, to rid himself of the constant, creeping fear that Terry’s power and influence would one day consume them both.

As he walked inside with Camille, guiding her through the grand entrance of the event, his focus sharpened. She was tense beside him, but her unwillingness to engage or make eye contact was the least of his concerns. His eyes swept across the crowded ballroom, scanning the sea of well-dressed guests, the vibrant chatter and clinking glasses an overwhelming backdrop to his singular purpose. There, at a tabletop near the center of the room, he finally spotted him. Terry. His eyes locked onto the supernatural, and for a split second, time seemed to slow. Terry stood confidently, chatting with a small group, his predatory aura unmistakable even amidst the glittering social scene. But it was the moment when Stephanie handed him a drink that motivated Aston to make his move. Perfect.

Without another thought, he gently detached himself from Camille as he veered off in Terry’s direction.

Terry

Terry gave Stephanie a thin, tight-lipped smile as he took the glass of bourbon from her hand, his fingers brushing hers in a way that could almost be mistaken for intimate, but there was no warmth behind the gesture. His eyes never quite met hers as he accepted the drink. His mind was elsewhere, running through the same thought he’d been repeating to himself all week: She’s a part of your plan. He couldn’t afford to forget that, or else he’d risk losing control. 

Stephanie had been clinging to him all week, her needy presence aggravating him beyond reason. Her incessant chatter, all surface-level and lacking any real substance, got on his nerves. He tried to hold his composure, focusing instead on the endgame, getting back into her good graces long enough to get what he needed. From giving her a minor shopping spree to dicking her down on her apartment’s floor, each move he made this week involving her was calculated to make her feel valued for just a little while longer. She had no idea that she was a pawn in his larger scheme, and that, soon enough, he’d cast her aside. But for now, he needed her compliance.

His patience, however, was wearing thin. The constant attention, the shallow remarks, the way she seemed to think every word out of her mouth was an invitation for him to dote on her, it was all about to make him lose his mind. When she offered to get him a drink, he felt relieved. Finally, a moment away from her. A break from her desperate need to be the center of his world. 

Terry made his way through the crowd, maneuvering with ease as he greeted familiar faces and exchanged handshakes along the way. His destination was the center of the ballroom, where an empty table top awaited him. Once he reached it he scanned the room briefly as he pulled out his phone.

He quickly sent a message to Jabari. ‘Y’all good?’ he typed. Within moments, the reply came: ‘Ready. Just give us the word.’ Terry smirked. He typed back, his fingers quick on the screen, ‘Good. 30 minutes.’ Terry had positioned Jabari and his most trusted subordinates inside Aston’s apartment to create the perfect storm for an “accidental” fire. He had spent days ensuring every element of the setup was precise, no trace of malice, no hint of foul play. The fire had to appear natural, unpreventable, as if it were merely the result of an unfortunate mishap. 

As Terry slid his phone back into his pocket, his mind wandered to Camille. Even though she had moved out of Aston's apartment, he knew she probably still had a few things there, maybe even a few things of sentimental value. It pained him, the idea of her things being a casualty, but he quickly pushed the thought aside, convincing himself it didn’t matter. In the end, he would replace it all for her. New clothes, new furniture, anything she wanted. He’d make sure she had better than what she left behind.

It was twisted, he admitted to himself. But it was for the best. Camille needed to start fresh. The apartment, the remnants of her life there, it all represented a tie to the past, a past he was determined to sever. Once that apartment was gone, there would be no reason for her to ever go back to living with Aston.

He noticed Stephanie making her way back toward him, drink in hand. A low groan rumbled in his chest, but he masked it with a practiced smile. As she neared, he reached for the glass. 

“They recommended this. Tell me what you think,” Stephanie purred as she batted her lashes at him. Terry nodded absentmindedly, lifting the glass to his lips. But just before he could take a sip, his gaze locked onto Aston, who was making his way through the crowd with a determined look on his face, focused on him. Terry smirked as he set the glass down, his hand resting casually on the table as he turned his full attention to Aston’s approach.

Stephanie’s voice faltered. “I-Is there something wrong?” she asked, her eyes darting between Terry and the glass.

Terry didn’t spare her a glance. “Nah,” he said nonchalantly. “But can you do me a favor?” He didn’t wait for her to answer, the words already tumbling out. “Can you grab me some hors d’oeuvres?”

He had no idea what Aston wanted, but Terry wasn’t one to turn down a little entertainment. Whatever the man had to say, Terry would listen, just for the amusement of it.

Terry caught a glimpse of Stephanie from the corner of his eye, watching as her smile faded before she turned and walked off. But he didn’t bother to pay it any mind. His attention quickly shifted elsewhere, focusing on the approaching figure of McCoy.

He tilted his head slightly, studying McCoy as the man closed the distance between them. Aston had been intentionally avoiding him all week. Whenever their paths crossed in the hallway, McCoy had been quick to turn in the opposite direction, his eyes avoiding Terry’s altogether. During team meetings, McCoy kept his gaze trained on the table, never meeting Terry’s eyes, as if silently pleading to be left alone. And then there were the days when McCoy had locked himself away in his office, missing his usual rounds through the building. At first, Terry had enjoyed the absence of McCoy’s presence. He hated seeing the motherfucker’s face.

But then, there was Camille. The more she called out sick, the more Terry began to grow suspicious. Was she really unwell, or had McCoy done something to her? Terry had sent her a quick text to check in, and she had assured him that she was indeed sick, her response laced with just enough sincerity to put his mind at ease. But still, something felt off.

Even now, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss. Aston was the type of person that made sure he looked socially presentable at this type of event. And that included having a woman on his arm. And yet, there was no sign of Camille. The absence of her was unsettling, and Terry’s suspicion only deepened.

As McCoy reached him, he broke his chain of thought. “Terry, it’s good to see you!” McCoy’s voice rang out, greeting him as if they were old friends. Terry instinctively raised an eyebrow, scrutinizing McCoy’s every movement. Instead of pressing for answers right away, Terry chose to play along, letting the conversation unfold at McCoy’s pace. Whatever McCoy’s angle was, Terry was certain he'd figure it out. 

“You know, we should talk,” Aston said, still acting as if they were close friends. Terry just narrowed his gaze. “Where’s Camille?” he asked, his words coming out through clenched teeth, though his smile remained perfect. Aston quickly scanned the room, his gaze sweeping over the crowd. “Oh, I’m sure she’ll turn up. She’s probably talking to her parents… or mine,” he added with a nonchalant shrug, as though it were no big deal.

Terry’s heart dropped into his stomach. Her parents are here? He had to meet them. His old research told him that her father was an asshole too absorbed in bootlicking. Her mother, on the other hand, was a pushover, easily influenced, easily won over. The more people in her life I get on my side, the better, he thought.

Aston leaned in closer, his breath warm against Terry’s ear. “I’ve got some new details concerning that contract,” Aston whispered, his voice low as he gave him a knowing look.

Terry’s brow furrowed in confusion. What was he playing at? Aston glanced down at Terry’s glass, his eyes lighting up. “Before we get into that, though, I think I’m gonna have what you’re having,” he said, motioning toward Terry’s drink with a casual nod. “I’ll be right back.” With that, Aston patted Terry’s shoulder before turning and making his way toward the bar.

Terry squinted after him, watching as Aston weaved in and out with ease. There was something off about that whole interaction. Aston had nearly crumbled in front of him no less than a week ago. The man practically pissed himself when Terry ripped another man apart in front of him. Ever since, Aston had been avoiding him like the plague, keeping his distance, hiding in his office, trying to stay under Terry’s radar. But now? Now, Aston was acting like none of that had ever happened.

I’ll play along, Terry thought. It didn’t matter what Aston’s angle was; Terry was ready to match him, move for move. Whatever the man was up to, Terry was more than ready to let him think he had the upper hand. 

Terry lifted his glass once more, the amber liquid catching the light as he brought it to his lips. But this time, his attention was quickly pulled elsewhere, by someone far more captivating. It had been a week since he’d last seen Camille, and the sight of her now stopped him dead in his tracks.

Her hair was styled up, an elegant twist that framed her face perfectly. The makeup she wore was subtle yet flawless, highlighting her natural beauty. And that dress…the deep blue fabric clung to her every curve, hugging her body in all the right places. It was the kind of dress that made heads turn, the kind that made a tent form in his trousers.

His eyes followed her every move. She navigated the crowd with grace, her presence drawing the eyes of everyone around her, but there was something different about how she interacted with them. People approached her, offering polite greetings, extending their hands for introductions. But Camille simply nodded, her responses cordial but distant as she gently but firmly declined further conversation. She moved through the crowd like she was in a world of her own, detached, almost untouchable.

Terry blinked, surprised by her behavior. Camille didn’t strike him as the type to brush people off in a setting like this. She was always charming, always engaging, always making sure she played the part of the graceful socialite. So why is she brushing everyone off? He felt a rush of curiosity and concern.

Terry pushed his way through the crowd, the lively atmosphere fading into the background as his focus zeroed in on Camille. Once he reached her, he gently grabbed her arm, drawing her attention. For a moment, she looked like she was about to brush him off like everyone else. But as soon as her eyes met his, her dismissiveness melted away, replaced by a warmth that made his chest tighten. A soft, breathy giggle escaped her lips, and before he could react, she eagerly pulled him into a hug.

This wasn’t the stiff, churchy side-hug he got from her on several occasions in the office. No, this was something far more intimate. All of her body pressed against his, all of her softness and femininity wrapping around him, dizzying him. Terry instinctively pulled her deeper into his embrace, savoring the feel of her against him. He breathed her in, the scent of jasmine and vanilla enveloping him, groaning as his hardened cock twitched. They swayed gently in each other's arms, the moment stretching out longer than it should have. But Terry didn’t care. He wanted to soak in every second of it. But, as with all good things, the moment came to an end. Camille slowly pulled away, and though Terry silently protested, he let her go too.

“So, you finally feeling better?” Terry asked, his eyes tracing her face and figure, not even bothering to hide his appreciation. Camille smiled softly, her lips hinting at something more.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that.” Terry’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. That’s a strange response, he thought. He parted his lips to press further, but Camille was quicker, her gaze softening as she took a small step back.

“You look so handsome,” she said, her sweet smile deepening. His dick twitched again. I would look even better on top of you, he thought.

“I’d love to stay and chat,” she continued, her tone turning a little more apologetic, “but I’ve already pissed off your girlfriend once. I don’t want to cause any more problems…”

Terry’s mind stuttered, trying to process what she just said. What the hell is she talking about? The confusion was written all over his face as he blurted out, “Wait, what?”

Camille opened her mouth, but before she could say another word, she was cut off by a squealing voice. “Terry! Terry! There you are!” The sound of Stephanie’s shouting cut through the air, and Terry’s stomach twisted in annoyance.

He turned instinctively toward the voice, his frustration mounting, only to see Stephanie barreling toward him. He simply rolled his eyes and shook his head before he turned back to Camille, but the space where she had been standing was now empty. It was as if she had vanished into thin air. Fuck, Terry thought, clenching his jaw. What the hell is going on tonight?

Stephanie wrapped her arm around his, holding a plate of finger foods up to his face with a bright, expectant smile. Terry barely glanced at it before brushing it aside with a scowl. He couldn’t do this right now. He pulled his arm free, walking away from Stephanie without a second glance, heading straight back toward the table where his drink sat, and where Aston was already waiting.

Stephanie huffed behind him, her annoyance evident, but Terry couldn’t give a fuck. Everyone’s acting weird tonight, he thought, his jaw tightening with each step. And I fucking want to know why. He knew Aston’s slimy ass was probably his best bet, so he slipped back on his professional mask to jump into whatever game he was playing.

“Terry, I leave you for one second, and you just disappear,” Aston chuckled. Terry shot him a tight smile, masking any distrust he felt.

“What can I say? I couldn’t possibly miss out on saying ‘hi’ to Camille,” Terry replied. Aston’s playful demeanor flickered for the briefest moment. But Terry saw it. Aston only chuckled again as Terry reached for his drink.

“Cheers,” Aston said with a grin, raising his glass and clinking it against Terry’s with a quick motion. Aston took a quick sip, his eyes looking at him expectantly. Terry narrowed his eyes, studying him carefully, but he raised his glass to his lips anyway. But, before he could even taste the drink, a burning stench filled his nose. His supernatural senses flared with alarm. He didn’t need to pause to identify it. Sulfur. It was a scent most of his kind were trained to recognize immediately. A substance whose potency was capable of weakening creatures like him. It couldn’t kill him, but it would a bitch to deal with if he ingested it. Agonizing pain that would last for days, leaving him vulnerable.

Terry clenched his teeth, forcing himself to swallow the instinctual hiss that rose in his throat. His eyes threatened to shift, a familiar hunger creeping up. The urge to let his true nature surface was almost unbearable, but something else bloomed within him, a dark sense of amusement that almost made him laugh. The little bitch is trying to poison me, he thought. The realization was almost too rich. Aston’s bitch ass thought he could slip something like that past him. The audacity was laughable.

For a split second, Terry considered acting on impulse, gruesomely killing Aston right there. The idea was tempting. Terry could feel the predator in him stir, aching to lash out. But then, a thought stopped him cold: That wouldn’t be fun. It would give him momentary satisfaction, sure, but it would also expose him. No, Terry realized, I can do something far more entertaining. 

A devious smirk spread across his face as he set down his glass on the table with a soft clink. Panic flickered in Aston’s eyes, a fleeting shift of unease. But Terry remained composed, hoping it would calm him down. 

“Speaking of Camille,” Terry said, his voice casual, eyes never leaving Aston’s, “I want to introduce myself to her parents. Can you point them out?” He spoke, watching as Aston’s eyes flicked to the glass in his hand. Aston shrugged nonchalantly, though his lips twitched slightly. “I mean, they could be anywhere…” He trailed off. Terry’s eyes bore into Aston, leaving no room for argument. Aston exhaled sharply and set his drink down with a small thud, finally turning his attention to scan the room. Terry, however, moved with purpose as his fingers swapped the glasses, eager to see how this would unfold.

Camille

“Young lady,” Mr. McCoy growled through clenched teeth. “This behavior is beyond unacceptable.” Camille just stared at him, her defiant gaze unwavering.

For the past ten minutes, she and her parents had trailed behind Aston’s parents like obedient shadows, compliant as they were paraded around the room. The sight of her father, practically kissing the ground Mr. McCoy walked on, made her stomach twist. He clung to his every word, nodding eagerly as if he were some sort of untouchable god. It was sickening. At every corner, the oil tycoon introduced them to various business partners or old friends. People who neither Camille nor her parents had the slightest real interest in. And yet, her parents threw themselves into practiced introductions with exaggerated warmth, a performance they had long since perfected.

Normally, Camille would have gone along with it, but tonight, she refused. Instead of the rehearsed enthusiasm her parents displayed, Camille gave nothing more than curt nods and stiff, half-hearted handshakes, deliberately distancing herself from the spectacle. Her parents and Mr. and Mrs. McCoy chuckled awkwardly at her behavior. They had tolerated her rudeness up to a point, but Mr. McCoy, clearly losing his patience, had reached his limit.

“Yeah, arranged marriages seem to have that effect,” Camille shot back, her voice dripping with sarcasm. Her mother gasped, sharp and involuntary, while Aston’s mother’s jaw dropped so dramatically that Camille half-expected it to hit the floor.

Mr. McCoy, visibly taken aback, stammered for a moment, his face turning a shade of red that matched his fury. He took a moment, clenched his jaw, then spun on his heel, disbelief etched deeply in his features. His eyes locked onto Colin DeWaterson, and the anger in them was unmistakable.

“Get her under control. Now,” Mr. McCoy commanded. Colin, sensing the pressure, tried to defuse the situation with a weak, nervous smile. He turned his attention to his daughter, his face tightening with a mixture of embarrassment and frustration.

“Camille,” he began, his voice strained, “You’re not doing anyone any favors acting like this.” His tone shifted, becoming more forceful, more authoritative. “Now, if this continues, the McCoys may feel inclined to return to the contract–” 

Camille let out a dismissive scoff. She was done, completely over this suffocating evening. Her frustration was boiling over, and she couldn’t hold back any longer. “Go to hell!” she snapped, her voice loud enough to pierce through the murmur of the surrounding guests, drawing their attention.

Without a second thought, she pivoted on her heels and stormed away. She didn’t need to see their reactions, didn’t want to. All she wanted now was escape. She wasn’t headed anywhere in particular, her legs simply carried her away. The farther she got, the lighter her breath became, but it wasn’t enough. She needed more distance. She needed space to breathe.

And then, her eyes caught a promising sliver of reprieve. The doors to a balcony, barely cracked open, offering a hint of cool, fresh air on the other side. Without a second thought, she moved toward them, the promise of solitude and a few moments of peace waiting just beyond that door.

Camille stepped onto the outdoor terrace and exhaled shakily. The cool evening air kissed her skin. She leaned on the railing as she tried to steady herself, to calm her frustration. Her father’s attempt to scold her still rang in her ears. She blinked rapidly, fighting to keep the tears at bay.

She was grateful that the area was practically empty, save for one event staff member who gave her distance. All she could focus on was the overwhelming weight of it all. The cruel realization that this was her reality. Yet, she had no choice. Another heavy sigh escaped her lips. Her gaze shifted upward, settling on the moon hung in the sky.

“Camille?” A voice whispered her name. Deep, familiar, and impossibly close. It immediately made her nipples harden and heat pulse in her core. She gasped as she turned to the side, finding Terry standing right next to her. His intense, concerned gaze was locked on hers. For a split second, she was frozen, caught in the magnetic pull of his presence. The way he was looking at her, so close, made her aware of how little space there was between them. Instinctively, she took a small step back, trying to put some distance between them. But Terry didn’t look away; his eyes stayed on her, unwavering and full of something that made her pulse quicken.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said softly, his voice rich and soothing. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, the movement momentarily flooding her mind with the dirtiest thoughts. “I just wanted to check on you… you don’t seem like yourself.” The words wrapped around her, an overwhelming ache swelled within her. 

Camille fought the emotions threatening to spill over. She wanted, no, needed, to tell him everything. To pour out her feelings, to tell him how suffocating her life was, how trapped she felt, how disillusioned she was with Aston. She wanted to confess how every glance, every stolen moment with Terry made her heartache in a way she couldn’t explain. But instead, she plastered on the most convincing fake smile she could muster, and turned her face away from him.

“I’m fine, Terry,” she said, her voice trembling slightly despite her best efforts to sound light. “I really appreciate your concern, but like I said, you’re gonna get me in trouble with your girlfriend.” She let out a soft laugh as she looked back at him, hoping it would lighten the mood. But Terry didn’t laugh with her. His expression remained unreadable, too serious for the teasing remark to land. His gaze only made Camille feel exposed.

“I don’t know where you’re getting this from, but I don’t have a girlfriend,” he said, his voice steady and calm.

Her brows furrowed in confusion. “What? That’s not what I heard–”

“What you heard was a lie,” he interrupted, his words sharp as he closed the space between them. Camille’s breath caught in her throat. The gap between them was now nearly nonexistent, and with it, the world around them seemed to fade away. All Camille could focus on was him.

“In fact, I don’t have a girlfriend because I’m too interested in the woman in front of me.” He said, placing a hand on her waist. Her mouth went dry. She hadn’t expected that. At all. Her pulse hammered in her ears, the sound deafening, as Terry’s presence overwhelmed her senses. Her eyes blinked rapidly as she tried to process what he said. “T-Terry, I had no idea…”

“And that’s my fault,” Terry began, his voice heavy with sincerity. “I should’ve let you know my intentions a long time ago,” he continued. “But I didn’t want you to think I wanted to mess up your life… or try to sabotage what you’ve got going on here. But I have to be honest, Camille… I want you. In every way you’ll let me have you.”

Everything around her seemed to blur. Her logic demanded she step back, shut it all down, walk away. But in that moment, her resolve shattered. Without thinking, without hesitating, she pressed her lips to his with a sudden urgency that took them both by surprise. The kiss was deep and hungry, as if she were pouring everything—every bit of longing, frustration, desire, and confusion—into that one connection. Terry wasted no time kissing her back. He met her intensity, responding with equal fervor, as if he, too, had been waiting for this moment. He wrapped his arms around her waist, deepening the kiss, dominating the interaction. His lips moved over hers expertly, making her whimper as she wrapped her arms around his neck. It was like they were transported back to that night at Crimson. Passionate, explosive, soul-touching. He was pulling her into a world that she had no desire to leave, happily melting into his arms.

His thick lips sucked her lower lip into his mouth, demanding her to submit to him and open her mouth, which she happily obliged. Immediately, his tongue dived into her mouth, making her moan into his. One hand slid down to cup her ass while the other snaked around the back of her neck, locking her in place. Her eyes became half-lidded as she let herself fall into complete bliss as she let him claim her lips. 

“My goodness!” A shriek rang out from behind them. Camille’s heart skipped a beat as the voice jolted her back to reality. She instinctively pulled away from Terry, her breath coming out in short, uneven gasps, her lips swollen, and her head spinning. Her head snapped toward the source of the outburst, landing on her mother, storming toward them with a furious expression. “Unhand her. Now,” her mother seethed, her voice low but full of wrath directed at Terry. "Mom...please," Camille groaned. Terry’s jaw twitched, but he didn’t argue. He slowly unfurled his hands from around her, his fingers lingering for just a second longer than necessary before he released her completely. Without another word, her mother grabbed Camille’s arm, her fingers digging into her skin. “You’re out here acting like you have no sense while Aston’s in there losing his damn mind,” her mother hissed. Camille’s brow furrowed in confusion. Losing his mind? What is she talking about?

Stephanie

Stephanie stumbled backward as she locked eyes with Aston. His gaze was wild, manic, fixated on her and following her every move with an intensity that made her skin crawl. His words spilled from his mouth erratically. 

She was just looking for attention, something to dull the sting of how Terry had brushed her off. Her curiosity burned inside her like a wildfire as she watched Aston and Terry earlier. The two men had always loathed each other. They wouldn’t have engaged in conversation unless it was super important…or it was something about Camille. And she was desperate to know. Once Terry abandoned Aston to go upstairs, she seized her opportunity, trembling with anticipation as she approached Aston.

For the first fifteen minutes, Aston was normal. His words were vague when she prodded him about the conversation with Terry, but he seemed eager enough to shower her with compliments and throw her lustful stares. She basked in the flattery for as long as she could. But suddenly, his demeanor shifted. The compliments grew more intense, his gaze more fixed. As if obsession gripped him out of nowhere. An obsession with her. Aston was acting as though she was the very air he needed to breathe, as though her existence was the singular focus of his mind.

“Stephanie, baby,” he gasped, the sound jagged and frantic, devoid of sanity. His face, trying to decide whether to break into laughter or to drop tears. Stephanie glanced around the room, her gaze darting nervously from one face to the next. Several of her coworkers seemed to be watching them with varying degrees of curiosity. A flicker of relief washed over her. Good, she thought. I have an audience... someone will help me.

He took a stumbling step toward her, his movements uncoordinated and sloppy. “B-Baby, please!” His voice cracked, the words hanging in the air like an unwelcome plea. “Why are you looking at me like that? I-I need you. I love you!” The plea grew louder, more frantic. His voice had risen now and she felt a chill run through her. How could this night have gone so wrong? 

One moment, Stephanie was being paraded around by Terry, being the envy of the night. But now, everything had shifted. The guy she had rejected nearly two years ago was standing before her, snapping without warning. She continued to take slow, measured steps back, every instinct telling her to distance herself. She refused to respond to him. But he just kept talking. Kept pleading. 

“I know I’m engaged and everything,” he said, his voice trembling now, but rising in pitch, “but I can get rid of Camille! Make her disappear!” His eyes widened and tears began streaming down his face. “W-Would you like that?” Stephanie’s stomach twisted. She kept retreating, but it felt like no space was enough, no distance wide enough to escape.

“And, and, and I know I’m not Terry,” he stammered, as if he could make her understand his tortured logic. “I know that’s where your heart really is. But I can love you better than he ever could!” His laugh was sharp, a manic cackle. But Stephanie didn’t laugh. She didn’t do anything but stare at him with terror. His laughter died in an instant, his expression darkening. “Baby, why aren’t you saying anything…” he whispered, his voice barely audible now. He stopped moving for a moment, standing there like a statue, his gaze fixed on her, waiting for a response that would never come. Stephanie’s gaze flitted around the room, looking for any way out. The crowd was thickening, a group of onlookers silently forming a circle around a nightmare unfolding. 

“You fucking heard me,” Aston bit. His eye began to twitch as he resumed stalking her. “I said why aren’t you answering me, bitch!” Stephanie jumped, her body trembling slightly.

“Aston, bud,” Glover, one of their older male colleagues said, approaching Aston cautiously. “Just calm down man. This looks really ba–”

“Shut up! Shut the fuck up!” Aston let out a guttural scream and, without warning, snatched the nearest flower arrangement from a table, glass and greenery scattering in all directions as he hurled it violently at Glover’s feet. Stephanie and the others nearby screamed before they began to scramble in every direction, desperate to escape Aston’s madness. But Aston moved faster than she could. At an unnatural speed, his body lunged forward, cutting off her only path to safety. Her heart slammed into her chest as he blocked her in, towering over her. His face was inches from hers now, his wild eyes burning with fury. His lips pulled back revealing bared teeth. The predatory intensity in his gaze made her lip tremble. She could do nothing but stare into his face.

“I’ve been the perfect man for you since the day we met,” he gritted. “I could’ve given you everything if you had been fucking patient! But no. You decided that being Mr. Grant’s slut was the better deal…” he said, the last sentence barely above a whisper.

“Fuck you,” she cried, attempting to push him away. But he didn’t budge, as if he was full of demonic strength. He gave her a psychotic grin. “Fuck me, huh?” He whispered, backing away from her slowly, his smile never fading. He turned to the people cowering in different positions around him. Some behind table tops, some behind decorations. Some even behind other people. 

“All of you act like I’m a fucking nobody! Well, go fuck yourselves! I’m the heir to a goddamn oil empire! I deserve some fucking respect!” He screamed. Stephanie’s heart beat pounded in her ears as she slowly began to move from her spot. A small sigh of relief escaped her lips as she saw security approach the area. But the sound of more glass breaking brought her attention back to Aston. He had flipped a floor length flower arrangement,glass shattering as it hit the floor. 

“Instead, you all give your praise and admiration to undeserving fucks like Terry Richmond. He’s a fraud! A fucking freak of nature! He’d tear us all apart if he could! You know why?! Because he’s a bloodsucking, murderous, psychotic vampire!” Stephanie stiffened. How did he know that about Terry? How long has he known that about Terry? Stephanie momentarily slipped into her own head as she thought about what he just said. She thought she was the only one that knew about Terry’s nature.

Stephanie watched him with curiosity as the security team slowly closed in around him. His eyes flashed with defiance as he sized them up. Without warning, one of the security guards lunged, but Aston sidestepped the attack. He rushed towards a second guard, but three of them pounced on him simultaneously, bringing him to the ground. Their collective weight managed to limit his frantic movements. Still, his mouth kept going, a cascade of frantic screams and curses. His body thrashed relentlessly. Slowly, the chaos began to subside as he seemed to wear himself out, his screams growing more hoarse and spaced out. The guards began to drag him away. But something caught Aston’s attention, reigniting his fury. Stephanie followed his line of sight.

There, standing high above them on the second floor, was Terry. His posture was unbothered, leaning casually against the marble as though the chaos below him was nothing more than entertainment. Like he was a king quietly observing a court jester. His face showed indifference. But his eyes flickered with sinister amusement.

Next to him, an older Black woman held an appalled Camille close.

“Camille!” Aston began to shout. “I know I haven’t been who you deserve. I’m sorry that you’re stuck with me! But, please listen to me! Don’t trust Terry! He’s not what you think! He’s not what any of you think! He’s a fucking vampire! Nothing but pure fucking evil!”

His shouts grew fainter as the security team escorted him out of the building. Around her, a buzz of murmurs grew louder, the crowd trying to make sense of the madness they had just witnessed. A few approached her, their expressions filled with genuine worry. “Are you okay?” one woman asked hesitantly. “Do you need any medical attention?”

But Stephanie didn’t respond. Her thoughts, however, were anything but quiet. They kept spiraling back to Aston’s words, those chilling accusations. A bloodsucking, murderous, psychotic vampire. 

She turned her gaze back to the second-floor balcony, her eyes locking onto Terry.

There he was, his eyes trained on Camille beside him. The soft flicker of affection in his gaze was undeniable. The sight burned into Stephanie’s mind, making her blood boil. Something had gone horribly wrong tonight. That much was certain. But she needed answers. And she would get them no matter what.

----------------

@nayaesworld @slvt4her @writingsbytee @notapradagurl7 @23jammy @kaylaahisthebestest- @theogbadbitch @wabi-sabi1090 @hotgyalaroad @nubiagurllll @lovedlover @dimepiece09 @lavaniiii @simplyzeeka @susanhill @next-bex-bet @sparklytemi @sonotlauryn @ranikyani @loveschrisbrown20 @daddyslittlevillain @blackchickinthedesert @sparklytemi @sonotlauryn @hello-therree @solunaseira @hotebonynearby @key05marie @moebuttta @winorlosetogether @nohatingpplbczhtingpplr @alexinmotion @queencb2462 @kismet83 @bruleecream @playingaymes

[rawflwrs]

MINISERIES / masterlist

▐ terry richmond ୫ black!reader

summary: terry is obsessed with clueless reader and her knitted stockings

warnings: explicit language, slight foot fetish (?), degradation, spitting, begging, fisting, pet names (daddy, princess, etc), overstimulation, dacryphilia, slapping, bimbofication, choking and praising (if you squint) — sub!reader & dom!terry

tags: @notapradagurl7 @simplyzeeka @blackmoonchilee @pocketsizedpanther @blackpinup22 @ovohanna24 @becauseimswagman1 @naughtynolly-blog @honey-b-heart @blyfee @lady-olive-oil @episode-ff @kaylaahisthebestest-

Terry is a sick man. A very sick man. The way his eyes hung low as he watched you throw your legs on his lap, your shorts riding up. He traced his fingers against your white knitted stockings that he loved to see you wear, admiring them as you ramble about your day, wondering if you knew what you were doing to him.

The way his dick rose at the thought of your clothed feet rubbing against his hard cock, with those stockings soaking up his pre-cum. “I don’t even understand what I did wrong.” You pouted explaining your frustration, but realistically Terry could care less. All he wanted to do was ruin your pretty pussy to keep that pretty mouth shut: and that he did.

His car rocked as he blew out smoke, watching you bounce on his thick cock. Your muffled sobs was music to his ears. “You’re daddy’s pretty little slut, aren’t you?” Terry asked, mockingly. “M’ yourr- ah!” You attempted to speak until you felt a hard slap on your cheek. Terry laughed, taking a drag of his blunt, pulling you by your neck to blow some smoke into your mouth.

You whined, blowing the smoke out, feeling yourself reach your high as his cock pressed into what felt like your heart. He was so deep. You started bouncing faster, gripping onto his muscular shoulders for support, knowing you were close to climax. Terry held your thighs down with one hand to stop you from moving. “Who said ‘mma let you cum, huh?” He asked rhetorically. “M’ sorry, daddy! Can’t hold” you hiccuped, wetting your cheeks with hot tears. He was pushing you to your limits and you hated how much you loved it.

Your brain felt fuzzy. You knew you couldn’t hold out for much longer and decided to give in, hoping the consequences weren’t too bad. You came hard on his cock, leaking onto his leather seat as you breathed out heavily. You rested your head on his shoulder in hopes of calming yourself down when you felt your hair being pulled back with force. You thought he had ripped a couple strands of your hair out.

He moved himself out of you, before he hissed saying, “what the fuck did I tell you?” You squirmed in his lap, staying silent. He ashed his blunt and placed to the side. “You can’t speak now?” He mocked, using his free hand to grab your neck, applying enough pressure to excite you, but not enough to intentionally hurt you. He would never hurt his baby.

“Get in the back, now.” He ushered you to move to the backseat. Although you would never admit it, you loved how rough he got when he was high. The way he fulfilled every lewd fantasy you had kept you on edge. Sober Terry was more gentle. He catered to your needs and prioritised your body to make you feel comfortable, whereas, intoxicated Terry was selfish and loved reminding you that you belonged to him. . . Only him.

As you climbed in the backseat, waiting for him to join you, you began removing your clothes. First, your sweater, then your shorts and when you went to remove your stockings, he quickly stopped you by kissing his teeth. “Nah, keep that on.” He ordered with a smirk. He climbed to the back, sitting straight with his back towards the door as you sat there patiently waiting for his next order. “What’s our safe word?” He asked sincerely. “Pancakes.” You replied, voice barely above a whisper. He slapped your cheek, rubbing the same place he just slapped. “Good girl.”

“You gotta start listening to daddy, princess.” He began his rant, pulling his pants all the way off. “You know the rules. Right, baby?” He asked, continuing to strip naked. “M’ sorry, pa. I didn’t mean to cum without permission.” You put your head down, feeling somewhat ashamed. Terry rubbed your still wet cheek from when you were crying previously and kissed your forehead. “Come here.” He motioned for you to move forward. You shifted forward, looking up at him with your glossy eyes. “Open.”

You opened your mouth wide, feeling his spit melt into your mouth. “Swallow.” You swallowed it without a second thought, smiling softly. “Good girl. My pretty girl.” He rubbed your cheek, smiling back at you. He moved his hand to the back of your head, pushing you down towards his grown erection. He tapped his two-toned thick cock on your lips twice, watching his pre-cum drip onto your soft lips. “So beautiful.” He expressed.

You stared at him innocently, tasting the tip before slowly dropping down, inhaling his cock inch by inch. He used his left hand to grab the back of your hair tightly, bobbing your head up and down his cock. “So fucking dirty.” He groaned. Big wet spit bubbles formed as you slurped him whole, proud that you were being so good for him. “You like being my fuck toy, don’t you?” His eyes rolled back, keeping a firm grip on your head as you hummed in response.

You took him deeper while more spit crowded around your mouth and fell onto your chest. It was so disgustingly beautiful. “You gonna let me fuck that throat up?” You hummed in response, approving. With a small exhale through your nose, he placed both of his hands on your head and stroked his cock with your head, letting your soft lips reach the base of his cock, holding you in place. “Fuckk!” He breathed out. You felt yourself start to lose your breath and that fuzzy feeling reappeared; almost as though you lost the ability to think.

The heat between your thighs growing more aggravating by the minute, you tapped his thigh to let you come up. He let go of your head and you immediately lifted up, gasping for air as your saliva dripped onto his dick. Before you knew it, he pushed you back onto his cock, bobbing your head faster. You knew he reached his high and was close to climax when he started mumbling incoherent nonsense. “You taking my dick so well, mama.” He praised. You were his fleshlight.

Soon, you felt hot liquid shoot at the back of your throat and a loud grunt from Terry’s lips. He slowly bobbed your head to make sure he covered every inch of your throat as if he was signing his name and let go of you once he was sure that he was empty.

Terry smiled when he saw you swallow it and stick your tongue out to show him it was all gone. “Good girl.” He slapped you harshly on your cheek, pressing a kiss straight after. “Please, pa.” You begged. “What do you want? Hmm?” He asked, knowing all you wanted was to be fucked brainless. He watched you lay down on your back, lifting your leg up to place on his broad shoulders. He rubbed your stockings, biting the fabric that covered your feet, twirling his tongue around your toes as you tried to suppress your moans. “I asked you a question.” He glared, continuing to suck on your toes through your stockings.

“I want you to use me.” You pleaded. You felt so embarrassed. On the outside, most people thought you were somewhat of a strong, independent woman who wouldn’t take shit from anyone, but here you are begging to be used like a meaningless toy. How pathetic. “That’s all you had to say.” He smiled against your feet, trailing kisses up and down your legs. “Open that pussy wide.” He ordered, watching closely as you brought your hands to your clit, spreading it open.

The way it was glistening, begging for him to touch it, abuse it, relieve it. Terry lost all composure. He sat back on the middle seat, facing forward, calculating his next move. He motioned for you to lay on his lap. As you moved towards his lap, you let out a small whine, feeling a strong hot sensation on your ass. Then another and another and another.

You were practically sobbing by the fifth slap. Knowing he was going for his sixth harsh slap, you moved your hand back to try and stop him, in an attempt to ease the pain. “T-Terr-y slo’ dow-n.” You pleaded, losing your ability to form a coherent sentence. “The fuck you just call me?” He gripped you by your hair to look you dead in your eyes.

You fucked up. “W-wait! M’ sorry.” You tried to apologise, but you knew he wasn’t going to accept it. On a normal day, he loved the way his name rolled off your tongue, but during a time like this? You knew better. Before you could say anything else, his four large fingers were buried deep into your wet folds, moving in and out of you fast. The wet gushing sound filled his car as he quickened his pace, watching you crumble beneath him. You tried to speak, but no words could physically come out of your mouth: just sweet nothings.

“What’s my name?” He asked, wondering if he should fist your tight hole to stretch you out ready for when he’s going to fuck you senseless. “Da- ah!” You squealed as you felt yourself squirting. Your legs felt so numb and all you could do was cry because you knew he wasn’t gonna stop until you said what he wanted to hear. He added his fifth finger and began fisting roughly into you, using his free hand to grab your throat. “You can take it, mama. What’s my name?” He asked again. All you could feel was how close you were to climax and how deep his big hand was rammed into your pussy.

“Say it and I’ll let you cum.” He slowed his pace down, knowing you were close. “D-ddy.” You whispered, brain foggy, sweat dripping from every part of your body. You wouldn’t be surprised if you passed out. “I can’t hear you. Say it again.” At this point, you could’ve sworn you saw the light, but you tried pushing through knowing your orgasm was going to be worth it. “Daddy!” You screamed. With that, Terry pulled his fist out as your body started to jitter, meaning you were about to cum.

“Let it out, mama.” His deep voice echoed. Your quiet sobs filled up the car as you came. He rubbed your clit with his thumb, mixing your cum in with your squirt fluid, enjoying how far he pushed you. “So fucking sexy.” He hummed, pulling his thumb to your lips for you to suck on. Your plump lips wrapped around his thumb, tasting your sweet juices. He thought you looked the prettiest in times like these.

“You gone let me beat that pussy up?” He asked with a smirk, rubbing your covered feet. You could feel the excitement leap out of you as your small giggles blessed his ear. No matter how far he pushed you, you always wanted more.

PART TWO COMING SOON

[nayaesworld]

Mafioso

Mafia!Terry Richmond x Black!OC (Marina Evans)

Warnings: SMUT, fluff, 18+ CONTENT

Part Three

Summary: An apologetic Terry has grown tired of he and Marina’s time apart. He does what he can to win back her affections, but he’s only a true winner if she accepts.

__

TERRY

That burn. That burn that Terry had welcomed for a week straight now. The buildup of lactic acid in his bulky biceps propelled him forward into his workout as he lifted the weights up and down, Kendrick rapping lyrics of black empowerment into his ear. The gold beats thumped with bass against the sides of his head locking him in further. But Kendrick’s lyrics and the loud drum of his heart couldn’t beat out the irritation of his actions last week.

He didn’t regret beating the man, only how he’d spoken to Marina afterwards. She didn’t deserve the bite in his voice, that was reserved for the ones that had wronged and slandered him and she had done no such thing. Terry was embarrassed and apologetic, overcome with a need to be at her feet begging. He missed their time together, their conversations, her touch. He had thought over a million ways to approach her and apologize and had pissed himself off with the ideas. Marina was different from any woman he had ever courted, she deserved a well put together and thoughtful apology.

Workout concluded and his mind on a hot shower, he headed out of his home gym and headed to his bedroom. A loud thump in his kitchen stopped him in his tracks. He was home alone and he didn’t have any TVs on in that area of his house.Something wasn’t right.He quietly pulled open the reeded glass door to the left of him and entered the code to his gun safe before carefully picking up the tan Glock 19. He crept slowly to the front of his house, breathing even and smooth as he checked every corner in his passing.

“Boy put that gun down and come help your mother, why are you all wet and filthy?’He sighed heavily to himself before placing the gun down gently on the mantle of his fireplace.

He kissed her cheek and helped her carry in the groceries and cases of water. “ I thought you were mad at me?”

” I was scared and disappointed. I just want what’s best for you..but you’re a grown man and you have been for quite some time.” He pulled out a seat at his kitchen island for her, and sat next to her.

”I understand that mama but I want what’s best for her, and regardless of anything your approval does matter to me.” Terry popped the cap from a cold bottle of water and leaned into his mother‘s touch.

”And how are you so sure you can offer that?”

”Carmen liked that savagery.” She continued. “That means streak in you..she often pulled it out of you, that’s how much she enjoyed it.”

” She’s not Carmen mama, I said that already. She doesn’t enjoy savagery and violence..I know that now because I made the mistake of showing that side of me and now she won’t speak to me. I owe her an apology”

” You’re so sure this girl is right for you and yet these things displease her. I haven’t heard from you in days, how am I to be sure that this isn’t just another bad emotional attachment to another woman that’s controlling your emotions?”

Terry exhaled deeply and took his mothers hand into his. She was cautious, he understood that but she needed to put his relationship with Carmen out of her mind just as he did.

” You can trust that because I’m your son, and I learn from all my mistakes. I would never repeat them, you can trust that I would never bring another mindless and disrespectful woman around you again. And when I make things official between me and her I want you to enjoy and care for her just as much as I do.”

She nodded her head and pulled him into a hug. “ I always trust you to make the right decision. Now go shower so you can help with dinner.”

—

Marina

Marina’s Saturday was already proving to be relaxing and she had plans of self care and binge watching the first season of The Last of Us while filling her belly with a savory ten piece from Wingstop. First on her To-Do list was a hot oil treatment. She had enjoyed the quick ease of her silk press and loved the length even more, but her scalp cried for moisture and she missed her curls. She placed her hair into a claw clip and tied the strings to her robe tightly, face freshly washed she applied her Dead Sea mud mask evenly around her face.

She stared at her reflection in the mirror and giggled to herself. Terry would’ve wanted to do the mask with her if he was there, he always loved to stand by and watch her beauty routine whenever they were with each other. Marina missed Terry, for all the days she ignored his texts and calls, she had wanted to pick up the phone and tell him that she missed him but she was stubborn. She was pissed with him, and had gone over countless mini arguments with herself on what she'd tell him. How she wanted to grip his goatee tightly in her hand and make him swear off ever acting like that in front of her again. How she would let his intense puppy dog eyes suck her right back into his clutches, where she was fighting so hard to be freed from.

The ringing of her doorbell snapped her from her stupor. This was the quickest DoorDash had ever delivered to her and she was eager to get a break and eat. She swung open her front door and was greeted with the man that had troubled her thoughts for the last week, the man she had growing affections for. The dark denim jeans hugged his muscled thighs and the black sweater loose and slightly cropped as his stomach peeked through slightly. Her bag of food hung in his manicured hands and a black envelope was nestled under his arm.

“You look beautiful Mari.” She sighed and rolled her eyes before reaching for her food.

“I look a mess..but your car looks fine. No dents or scratches.” He handed her her food before stepping closer to her.

“Marina, trust me I get it..if I’d seen something like that I wouldn’t be able to let it go either.”

“So why should I? Terry, you don’t understand how I felt in that moment, how afraid I was.”

“Marina, I owe you an apology and so much more. I can’t erase what I did from your mind, I can only spend time making it up to you if you’ll let me.”

She sighed heavily before she widened her door and let him in. She placed her food on her dining table and sat down, eyes watching as he took a seat next to her. He slid the sleek black envelope her way, hazel eyes burning into her heated cheeks. This is how she got pulled into his trap,his hypnotic eyes and lush pink lips softened the hard exterior she wanted to keep up.

“What’s this an NDA?” He remained unmoved by her snarky remark, a thick arched brow lifting and resting before he motioned for her to open the envelope.

She rolled her eyes before peeling the envelope open. A check for ten thousand dollars stared back at her. Her fingers gripped the paper waiting for the numbers to disappear and scurry away from her. Her face frowned slightly before she spoke.

“I don’t want to be bought Terry.”

“I’m not trying to buy you, I’m just trying to cherish you. Let me invest in you, and take care of you.” Take care of her..that’s what he wanted? Marina had only ever been taken care of by herself and her mother, she didn’t know what it would be like to let a man do it.

“Terry, this is a lot of money to give to someone randomly.”

“It’s not random and neither are you.”

“Take care of me..what would that be like? What would it feel like?” She felt him moving closer and his hand on her shoulder snapped her from her mini daydreaming session.

“Let me show you, lead the way.”

__

Terry

The sleeves of his thick cashmere sweater were rolled up to his elbows as he took his time spreading the aloe water detangler through Marina’s coarse strands. He took his time saturating her hair before taking the brush from ends to root in her inky dark hair. She sat quietly in front of him in her vanity chair as he twisted the last section of hair up. She placed a clear shower cap over the detangled sections before turning on her steamer to increase the moisture.

The mud mask had hardened and faded in color on her face and enhanced the shine of her eyes. That striking brown shade that twisted and bent him to her will without her even knowing it. She met his eyes in the mirror once more before she spun around to face him.

“I forgive you Terry. And I’ll keep the money, it seems I do have a use for it..but I want you to promise me that you won’t ever put me in a situation like that again, I won’t forgive you again.”

Terry pulled her to him and circled his arms around her waist, and pulled her flush against his chest. The soft velvety fabric of her robe soft under his rough palm. His mind drifted to what might lie beneath it, how her soft bronze skin would be in his grasp. How touching her would elicit a heat similar to flames beneath his skin, he wanted to touch her—ached to, but he was on her time. What she wanted he would give her.

“I promise..no more of me showing my ass like that around you. You’re a lady, I shouldn’t have been quick to do what I did. Can I kiss you?”

The quick subject change confuses her before she nods her head and allows his lips to capture hers. Terry never believed in butterflies or fireworks behind a kiss, the shit had always sounded fairytale like for him to ever get behind—but he felt something when he kissed Marina. Felt how warm her breath was against his face. How the hand he had pressed against her chest vibrated with the quickened thud of her heart. His free palm cupped the bag of her head forcing her face closer to his. His own heart hammered against his chest and his mind raced a mile a minute. Marina was his. Nobody could come between and nobody could deny him, because if they did he’d simply kill them. Dead people couldn’t give opinions.

“Marina…be mine. Let’s not let any more time pass, I want you…and I want you to want me too. I’m so so sorry for what I did..I’ll spend however long I have to apologizing to you, I don't care.”

“I’m yours Terry. I know you’re a good man..I know you’re sorry. But I’m scared-“

“Scared of what? What people will say? They’re opinions don’t matter to me Marina..only yours. Is it the age gap that you’re afraid of..I never want you to feel like I’m in a position to control you or stake a claim over you.”

They’re age gap would be a big factor of course he couldn’t deny that, but she was grown and he wasn’t some slimy old guy looking to prey on young women. He was enamored with Marina and respected her above all else, doing something to tarnish her reputation and identity as a woman wasn’t what this was.

“It is..I’ve never dated anyone this much older than me. I don’t want people getting the wrong idea about me..thinking that I’m just some young girl that’s hanging around for money. Not that I’m judging those who do..but that’s not what we are, right?”

“I believe the word for that would be sugar baby..and last I checked we didn’t come to any agreement about that sweetheart. As long as I know why you’re with me, I could care less about the ‘they’ of this world. Only you. And me.”

She stood there face covered in a mud mask and her hair slowly reverting under her shower cap and she agreed with him. Beautiful and at peace is how he wanted her…always. He could take a chance on her and try to carve out a slice of heaven in the hell he called his life. But this was scary, he couldn’t control the fate of whatever relationship they would have. And she wasn’t the men he ordered around..this was different and it required a softness from him that he wasn’t familiar with, but he was selfish in that regard.

“Just let me take care of you. The rest I promise we’ll get through together.”

Shortly after their talk Marina disappeared into her bathroom to wash her hair and shower and Terry sat down on the plush chair in the corner of her room. Face scrunched in irritation at the countless messages and phone calls left on his phone. He hated when they did this shit, they had the tools to move and operate without him being present and they insisted on running every little thing through him.

“-Speak and make it quick. I’m busy.” He listened to his cousin Semaj prattle on about shit he already knew. He knew had to go to New York for business, he knew who he was going to meet, and he knew how long he had to be there.

-“You just sat on my phone for two minutes and told me shit I already knew..what part of emergencies only didn’t you get Semaj?”

-“Man T you know you getting up there in age. We gotta refresh your memory every now and then..we ain’t exactly spring chickens, well I am..can’t say the same about you.” He hated the smirk that landed on his face, his stupid ass cousin always found a way to play on his phone.

“-Bye Semaj. Do your part, I know my role.” He hung up the phone and let the scent of Marina's body wash fill his nose.

It smelled like a cafe full of sweet treats. He imagined sniffing her skin and letting the sweet scent infiltrate his thoughts..just like it was now. He didn’t know why he got up and started towards her bathroom door, the steam rolling through the crack of the door like clouds in the wind. She was nothing but a blurry silhouette behind the glass door of her shower, hands scrubbing against her body at a pace that hypnotized him. He didn’t feel bad about watching her..didn’t feel bad about the way his hand nudged the door open further. He walked closer letting the steam surround him, his eyes still trying to peer into the glass for just a moment..just to be consumed by what was behind it.

“Terry? Is everything okay?” Caught. But it was too late to turn back. And he had no plans to.

“I-I just want to watch you..if you want me to leave I’ll go, but I’m not denying my attraction to you.”

The water switched off and the glass door opened revealing her wet nude body. God was a woman; he was sure of that. How could he ever deny her anything when she looked like this..looked at him like this. The heft of her breast and the swell of her belly..it all called to him. The way the water ran down her body and pooled in between her thighs, getting caught on the short hairs of her vulva. His tongue tingled in his mouth and spit began to collect, he had plans to eat tonight.

“I don’t want you to leave..what if I want you to watch me..stay the night please. For me?” She didn’t have to ask him because he had no plans of leaving her home tonight.

A plush towel wrapped around her naked body shielded her perfect body from him. Her wet hand reaching towards him to cup his wrist, the water slowly trickling down the length of his arm as a chill ran up his back. She pulled him towards her room and threw the towel in a nearby hamper, busying herself with selecting a lotion. She bent at the waist slightly heavy ass cheeks jiggling with each step, and he felt his jeans tighten around his crotch area, greed would be his downfall one day.. when it came to her he wanted it all.

The option of her choosing was thick and rich and had notes of toasted macadamia and tonka bean. As if he needed another reason to want to eat her alive. He slid off his sweater and his top half was left covered by a black beater, dark intricate tattoos peeking from beneath the thin fabric. He didn’t want anything in his way when his hands finally were able to massage her supple skin.

“I don’t know where tonight is headed for us..but I trust you. I trust that you’ll make me feel good.”

“I’ll give you that and then some. Marina there are things I want to do to you..things that can never leave this room, but tonight I just wanna taste you.”

—

Marina

Hazel eyes stared up at her from his place on his knees in front of her. Big warm hands gripped and groped her while simultaneously smoothing the lotion into her damp skin. The hot kisses he placed to her inner thighs made her stomach shift with anxious anticipation, he was close..so close to where she actually needed his lips. Waiting any longer for his mouth to touch her would result in her combusting, she was so wound up. Everything around her coaxes her further and further into euphoria. The way her hair fluttered against her skin like feathers, the hungry sucking motions from Terrys lips on her, the way her nipples hardened.. she wanted him until the sun came up the next morning.

“Terry..I need you now. If we wait any longer..I don’t wanna cum like this. I want your mouth on me when I do.”

“Marina, I’m moving slowly for you..but if you ask me to speed things up I won’t hold back. Not when you’ve been the object of my desire for this long, you feel that? That’s how I get when I’m around you.”

He gripped her wrist gently and she felt the heavy bulge under her palm, the sheer size of it soliciting a gasp from her. She went a step further and popped the button, sinking her hands into the boxer briefs. A soft thatch of hair running over her skin softly as she finally gripped his length fully. Too many words to explain what she was feeling right now, so she only thought of one; power. And she’d never felt like she had it quite like she did now.

Being lifted and tossed on her bed did little to pull her from her thoughts. Sex with Terry would be freeing, she had been abstaining from it since her twenty-fourth birthday, but she knew she wasn’t ready for penetrative sex tonight. Mentally she just wasn’t ready..but she wanted too so damn bad, but she knew better than to push herself so she’d take what Terry gave her tonight and let it drag her into an orgasmic stupor.

“When’s the last time you had your pussy ate Marina?” His fingertips softly touching the apex of her thighs, smoothing over her skin.

She couldn’t even answer his question because she didn’t remember. The last time it had been done to her she was left unfulfilled and overly annoyed, it was so bad that she had pushed it to the furthest parts of her mind and simply try to forget about it. She knew that there were men out there that could do it well and hoped that Terry was one of them.

“I-I can’t remember..but I remember not enjoying it. He was rushing and didn’t stay where I wanted him to long enough.”

He grunted to himself before moving to kick off his jeans. His bulky body moving back up the bed to capture her lips. “Do I look like the type of man to play with pussy and leave it wanting more? Or will I take this pussy in my mouth like this and make you cum?”

His tongue licked a strip from her weeping hole to her engorged lips. Fingers softly opening her up like a flower before pressing open mouth kisses to her, the sensation almost feeling like a suction when he’d withdraw his mouth. The continuous sensation forcing her shaking legs closed around his head.

“Keep them open or I'll do it for you..let me eat in peace.” His slimy tongue knocked against her pulsing opening a few times before meeting with her clit that began to peek from beneath its hood. She knew if he suckled it for too long she’d cum, she was sensitive to clitoral stimulation and it always gave her quick explosive orgasms.

But he did it anyway and her hands were on his head quickly, pushing softly at his forehead as her eyes itched to roll into her head. A stinging smack to her right thigh shocked her hands away and she hated that she looked down to catch his eyes.

“You wanna keep this pussy away from me..stop it. You don’t know how good this shit is, I’m never not gonna eat you..not when I can watch you fall apart like this.”

“It just- it feels so good.. I don’t think I can handle it anymore.”

Soft kisses to her inner thigh did a lot to soothe her racing mind. She didn’t want to deny herself this but what came next? What was next after that feeling in her stomach kept building, she was scared of how good he could make her feel.

“Then let’s find out. I’ll only go as far as you want me too Marina, but I’m only getting started..just trust me.”

His words brought her some peace and she smirked to herself before he resumed coaxing forward more of that sticky clear liquid from her. She’d glanced down and let his handsome face turn her on more, there couldn’t be anything better to her right now than his handsome chiseled face doused in her essence. The same essence that was pouring from her like a faucet, everything turned her on now. The wet sounds of his tongue swirling around, the grip on her thighs where she hoped he’d leave bruises, her own moans; it was all a recipe for the orgasm she felt approaching.

And when her toes began to curl and her breast bounced with her quickened breaths, she found herself pulling him closer instead of pushing him away. He stayed on that spot, pressing that button over and over again until her hoarse screams filled her bedroom followed by the sweet aftermath. Her low dazed eyes watched him move up to hover over her, his mouth and goatee still dripping from her. Still drunk on lust she jerks him closet by his neck, tongue tasting herself before she slid her tongue into his mouth.

“What about you?” As satisfied and worn as she was, she still thought about him. His thickening bulge more apparent now than it was before.

“Don’t worry about me Mari, just rest now.”

The soft peck to her nose seals the deal as she drifts off into an almost too easy slumber.

—

Marina

She awakens the next morning to a full bladder and an empty house. It’s early noon now and she’s eager to shower and dig into a late hearty breakfast. Her loose limbs complete her hygiene routine with ease and she lotions her body before sliding into a brown lounge set.

Her phone dings from its place on her kitchen counter and she’s eager to read a message from Terry.

-Good morning Marina.I stepped out early to take care of some business.I have some things being sent to your house, please accept them. You’ll be accompanying me on a trip to New York. We spent enough time apart so I want you to enjoy this trip on my dime. I’ll call you later.

She hearted the message and replied before smiling to herself. There was no way in hell she was denying herself a vacation, no matter how long they’d be gone. She needed it, hell deserved it even and taking this trio with Terry only sweetened the deal. She wanted to be around him, spending time and learning his likes and dislikes. Her healthy curiosity for him bled into the obvious attraction she had for the man, a blind man could see how beautiful that man was and she was way past ignoring what she really wanted out of life.

Halfway through her late breakfast her doorbell went off. Her Ring app revealed a tall man dressed in a suit holding a few bags in his hands. She walked to the door and opened it, coming face to face with the man where she noticed a name tag; Stephano.

“Good afternoon noon Mam. Are you Ms.Marina Evans?” A slight Italian accent graces her ears before she nods her head.

“Ok great! I’ll just have you sign here..and here. Alrighty you have a good day mam!”

After signing the electronic pad she bids him farewell before taking in the five designer bags filled to the brim. Two of the bags are from Chanel and she gasped loudly at the purses before moving to pull the dresses from the bad next, the fabric feeling expensive and luxurious against her skin. The next two are shoe boxes that carry Christian Louboutin heels, her fingers tracing the red bottom of the Patent Leather Mules before the Sandale Du Desert 100MM Satin Heels caught her eyes and slowly became her favorite. How he had manned to shop for her and executed style so perfectly she did not know, maybe he took a peek into her closet or a look on her socials but he was spot on.

The mast bag smaller size grabbed her attention. A black square case with a small button on the front. Opening the case slowly, she let her hands come up to cover her mouth in surprise. The diamonds were staring back at her as she was almost scared to touch them. A 14K White Gold Chevron Eternity Necklace sparkled and shimmered against the natural light in her living room. She had never seen something so visibly expensive up close and personal before; and she owned it. She snatched her phone from its place on the floor to call Terry, but another ring to her doorbell cut her off.

This time she didn’t check her Ring app and instead opted for looking through her peephole. Her mother stood on the other side. And a slight feel of anxiety washed over her, her mother didn't know about Terry. It was still too soon to tell her now, but she knew any old answer would not suffice with her mother. She’d always expected the truth from Marina. And when she opened the door to greet her, she inwardly winced as her mothers eyes swept over the bags on the floor and landed on the diamonds on her couch.

“Marina..what is all this?” She wanted to lie, and wanted to so badly. But that’s not how she wanted to do this.

“They’re from a uh-a friend. A relatively new one, but a friend nonetheless.” She saw the look on her mothers face and knew what would be said next.

“What kind of friend is buying you designer clothes and bags—and are those diamonds?”

“Ma I’m grown, just trust me. This isn’t anything to worry about, you know me.”

That seemed to be enough for her for now and she moved on from it as Marina moved all the bags into her room. She talked with her mother and caught her up on recent work, her mother doing the same. They went out for lunch shortly after before they parted ways and Marina headed back home, but not before noticing her driveway being once again occupied by that X6

—

Terry

Terry left Marina’s house that morning satisfied in a way he hadn’t felt sexually in a while. He was no stranger to the act of pussy eating and had honed his skills years ago between the legs of another woman. But Marina… he spent the drive home sniffing his lip, her scent still trapped in his beard lightly wafting out as his ac pushed out cool air. It took everything in him to wash his beard in the shower as he scrubbed his body, his dick slowly rising amidst the steam of the shower. Just the thought of her, the smoothness of her inner lips..it was all embedded into his mind, scribbled on the front of his brain like a happy memory. Choking his dick to her was pleasure reincarnated, and he had to grip the shower wall a few times to save himself from almost slipping and busting his ass.

And when his nut swirled down the drain with the suds he stepped his spent body out of the shower to finish his hygiene routine. He spent the remainder of his morning shopping and picking out items to send to Marina’s home. A few luxury pieces that would tie together their time in New York. A mixer in Upper Manhattan was pulling him away for work, he hated these events most times. He had to socialize with a bunch of men he could care less about outside of making millions. But not showing wasn’t an option, it would look bad on his part and it would open doors for his position to be challenged. And that was never gonna happen. So he would go, show his face, and make possible new connections but anything beyond that they knew better to ask of him.

By eleven am he had cooked and prepared lunch for him and Marina and he was out the door heading back to her house. He wanted to talk more about New York in person. He sped safely throughout traffic and perked up when her neighborhood came into view. He grabbed the tupperware of warm food in his hand before stepping out and being greeted by Marina also pulling into her driveway. He was right on time.

Her black curls blew lightly in the wind and her eyes smiled behind her black frames, his arms opening as she came in for a hug. Her thick hair tickled his face as he kissed the top of her head rocking her lightly in his arms. Her arms stayed around his waist as they walked into her house.

“Missed me already Smiley?”

He sighed in content at the mention of his nickname, things felt back to normal between them and he would never let anything create a wedge between what they were building.

“I did and I wanted to chat with you about New York. Did you like your gifts?” He moved to place the food on her kitchen island before walking back into the living room to sit next to her.

“Liked doesn’t really cover how I felt about them..I can’t wait to wear everything and enjoy this time away with you. Thank you.”

He wasted no time running down the who,what,when, and where of their trip. He had a full blown itinerary planned for them outside of the mixer. She locked onto every word eager for next Friday to arrive so that the two of them could depart. An impromptu game of dress up had Marina clad in the items that Terry purchased for her, her body even more dangerous when it was draped in the finest. One too many twirls in front of Terry had his face currently back in between her legs as she yelped and purred. Her thighs met her chest as his tongue dipped into the tight confines of her ass next, he accompanied one great feeling with another and his middle finger slowly slid into her soaked pussy.His phone vibrated next to his head made him growl into his meal. Disturbing him while he had a face full of Marina was a death wish.

Semaj: Caught up with Scotty and you won’t believe the shit this nigga is talking. He’ll be at the warehouse, I want him to tell you this shit to your face

Terry read the message twice before locking his phone and tossing it to the other side of the couch. Work found him at the oddest times and he would make his way to the warehouse to see what that shit was about. But something deep down inside him told him he wouldn’t like the answers he got. So he lowered his head back between her legs and continued feasting, pussy was more important at the moment.

__

Taglist: @theereinawrites @ch33z3grits @bimbosnbutterflies2026 @kirayuki22 @kenshisluvrgirl @rawflwrs @ranikyani @blyffe @23jammy @keehendrixx @ovohanna24 @venusincleo @writingsbytee @simplyzeeka @saraiscollection @blowmymbackout @kimuzostar @playgurlxoxo @megamindsecretlair @keyaho @brattyfics @henneseyhoe @nahimjustfeelingit-writes

[henneseyhoe]

Home For Christmas

Terry Richmond x BLACK!FEM!reader

WARNINGS: none, lil bit of angst if you squint, fluff, short.

SUMMARY: Your husband, Terry, promises to be home to you and your daughters for Christmas, but will he really?

✮✮✮✮

The snow outside lit up the yard in the moonlight, frost nipping at the windowsill the more the weather dropped. There wasn’t a soul outside, not even the little black cat you saw wandering around late at night. Even she couldn’t be bothered with the harsh cold.

The house was warm and so was the hot chocolate you cuddled in your hand, but nothing could warm you the way you needed to be warmed. Nothing could make you feel the Christmas spirit you wanted to feel.

You missed your husband like crazy and your kids did too. They could feel the sadness radiating off of your body and it didn’t make it better for them, but you couldn’t help it. Terry had been stuck in another state for work, promising that he’d be back on time for Christmas, yet, he hadn’t shown and it was 5 hours to 12.

The roads had closed and from what you heard, till further notice. Flights were being canceled left and right, hell, you were nearly snowed into the house, only a small walk way you shoveled earlier prevailing, but even that was starting to freeze over a bit.

“Mama” Your 7 year old daughter, Tiana, called for you, looking up from her laying position in your lap.

You gave her your attention, a soft smile spreading on your face. She looked just like you when she was upset. You felt bad that she was sad too, but it was the cutest face she made that made you smile.

“I thought daddy said he’d be here by nowww” She whines, her baby sister, Jasmine, almost immediately getting annoyed as this was her fifth time mentioning what she thought was the obvious.

“Ana, you have to wait! Mommy told you already” Her little finger pointed at sister with agitation on her face that made you wanna laugh, but that’d just get you scolded by ‘little miss thinks she’s mommy’ too and you didn’t think you had the energy to correct it tonight.

She had so much attitude before she even turned 4, all of it inherited right from Terry when it came to people she cared for the most, a trait of loyalty you were sure Terry also took part in.

Before they could even get to arguing, you set your mug down on the windowsill and gathered them both up next to you, their matching onesies getting all bunched up from mixing in one spot for so long.

“Aht, cut it out you two. Daddy means well when he tells us things, but…maybe he just got the times wrong. If he isn’t back by tomorrow, then we’ll just have to forgive him, okay?”

Your youngest’s eyes quickly fill with tears that pull at your heart strings, her lip poking up with a quiver only Terry could settle at the moment. “So he’s not coming back tonight?”

You sigh. A few more hours of this and you were sure to cry with her.

“How about we wish really hard and go to bed, then see what happens?” Your children were quick to try and disagree while attempting to flee, but you swooped them up into your arms anyway and cuddled them close, giving them their nightly kisses.

Your back may be aching tomorrow from sharing a couch with two children, but they convinced you earlier to be around here to ‘catch santa’ and you couldn’t help but give in with the possibility of Terry not being here and upsetting them further.

Hours ticked by and you counted almost all of them, going in and out of sleep until you were knocked out of your cycle by the sound of boots against hardwood. Your eyes cracked open, seemingly at the same time as the mini-me’s laying on top of you, that followed by a gasp from both of the girls.

You and the kids almost leap from your seats, the sun outside the floor to ceiling windows in the living room making an attempt to blind all three of you, but all of you were on a mission that couldn’t be ruined by sleep still being in your eyes.

“DADDY!!!” The screams of joy were so loud from the kids that you would have thought they were awake all along, not a speck of grogginess in their voice.

Terry toppled over with both of them jumping for his legs, but he still managed to hold them properly, giving them both kisses on their chubby cheeks that they happily accepted. You had no idea how he pulled something like this off, not to mention bringing the rest of their presents from ‘santa’ in without disturbing anyone’s sleep.

“Really?” You ask in disbelief, Terry giving you a shrug before sitting up, sending the two off to pick a present out to open.

You were still curious, a shrug not being enough for you. “How?” You squint, helping him up from the floor.

“Christmas magic, baby. I always find a way”

He smiles and kisses your lips, then leads you to the tree. Again, the explanation wasn’t enough.

“Oh, please! Don’t gimme that, I’m not five, Terry” You complain, pulling his hand off of yours to demand a direct answer.

Terry sighs and looks at you with his arms now crossed, still happy despite being pressed before you even moved to give him a kiss first. “If I told you, you’d call me a liar”

“Well…” You wait, tapping your foot to add on effect.

There was a hint of childishness in his smile, you already knowing this wouldn’t be the answer you wanted either. “Santa brought me”

“….Nigg-”

Before you could even call out bullshit, You were quickly shut up by the presence of your kids, the both of them gasping in awe at what they just overheard being revealed to you.

“You know what…fine” You throw your hands up in defeat and chop it up to what he said, Christmas magic.

✮✮✮✮

As the children settled down and played with their toys, you became stuck to your husbands side like you were glued there, your arms wrapped around him. You admired him while he admired the kids, your tummy fluttering with butterflies similar to when you two first met.

“I really hope you know…” You started, bringing his attention to you.

“Hm?”

“That I love you and your determination to always come through for us, especially your kids, makes me love you even more”

He smiles brightly, his heart skipping beats. “I’m supposed to. Not that I don’t want to also, but I hate to see yall upset. Plus, I couldn’t miss their faces opening their new ballet shoes”

You smile back at him and stand on your tip toes for a kiss, savoring the warmth of his embrace.

“Oh, and I was gonna let them jump you if you were late. They told me not to tell you” You say after pulling from your fifth kiss that day.

“Wooow, straight out the gate? No warning?”

“Mhm! nothing but elbows as soon as you walked through that door”

Terry shook his head with a laugh, already plotting on catching the two off guard with a little roughhousing session.

“It be your own kids”

“Yup. May have told them to get a little lick in for me too”

You shrug, letting him go and walking off into the kitchen, knowing he’d follow like a stray.

“Damn, mama too? What’d I do to her?”

Wrapping his arms around you while still in motion, he mimics your footsteps all the way to the counter.

“Leave me with two hard heads for a week. I got something for you later though”

He smiles against your neck then playfully bites at you, your chin tucking in to protect yourself.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Mrs.Richmond”

✮✮✮✮

💌- Merry Christmas! i hope yall enjoyed yalls holiday. Here’s something short and sweet cause i love a good family fic lmao. <3

[nubiawrites]

chapter 3

Pairing: Aaron Pierre x Black Original Character

Warnings: Slow burn. Kissing. Thigh riding. Dry humping. 18+

Summary: Upon finding that the development process of her script moving along, Iriye gets more than one greenlight when Aaron and her go over the script.

Notes: Remember how I said this was a slowburn? It still is but you get a little treat for being patient. If you want to be tagged to be notified, like, reblog or reply to this. Let me know what you think!

MASTERLIST

It had been a trying three weeks, waiting to hear what the studio would say about the latest draft. But Iriye was more worried about what the woman in front of her thought than a bunch of studio execs.

Iriye paced a little as she watched Tamara read the last few pages of the latest draft of the script. For as long as the two had known each other, her friend still reading anything of hers filled her with nerves, excitement, and wonder. Not out of fear but knowing that whatever she wrote was safe with her friend. 

“How do you do it?” Tamara asks, putting the pages down. Iriye smiled at her, shaking her head.

“You’re flattering me too much,” Iriye took a sip of her water, her friend moving to sit up.

“It’s never too much flattering when it comes to you. As someone who remembers the short film scripts you were begging your professor to accept when you had the chance to write anything, I have always known how talented you were and how you would keep growing in that,” Tamara spoke into Iriye. “You are magic. You’re that girl,”

Iriye giggled. “Okay, I believe you. But tell me again, one time for the one time,” She joked. Tamara shook her head. 

“You’re an alien superstar. Especially after all those notes those white people gave,” Tamara shook her head. “That’s two hours of my life I will never get back. Two hours I could have spent looking at self-tapes for actresses,”

“With great power comes great responsibility. RIP Uncle Ben,” Iriye chuckled.

Tamara chuckled just as Nelly came into the office, practically bubbling with excitement.

“We got it!” Nelly practically screamed. “Did you check your email?”

Iriye pulled up her phone and braced herself as she clicked, seeing an email from Davis.

“The execs are very impressed with this draft. We’re sending it over to talent,” Iriye read aloud, the biggest smile taking over her face.

“We going to Hollywood, y’all!” Nelly yelled out. “Let me get the bottle of champagne we’ve been saving,”

“Not so fast! We���re not greenlit yet,” Tamara pointed out before Nelly could run to their mini fridge.

“And you’re not allowed to pop any more bottles within a twelve-foot radius of us. I’m almost lost an eye,” Iriye reminded. “But did you lose one?” Nelly said. “If I can’t do that, what can I do?” 

“You want to send over the script through the studio system to Aaron,” Iriye asked. “I know you love any interaction you can have with him,” She teased.

“You say that like I’m not passing notes between you and him,” Nelly admitted.

“Passing notes?” Tamara chuckled. “I need to hear more,”

Iriye rolled her eyes before settling back on the sofa in Tamara’s office.

“You want the truth or what I'm reading between the lines,” Nelly sat beside Iriye, sending her a playful side-eye.

“Anything you have to say for yourself, Iriye?” Tamara asked. Nelly pretended to hold a mic toward Iriye before the latter swatted it out of her face.

“It’s nothing! He asked for my number when we had lunch,” Iriye mumbled.

“You guys had lunch together? Where the hell was I?” Tamara asked. 

“Having lunch with some film bro,” Nelly shot out. “What? I manage your calendar,”

“It was just the both of us discussing film stuff. He wants to work with us,” Iriye shrugged. “It was friendly but professional. Trust me,”

“Then why did he say in his email to call any time?” Nelly mentioned. “I think you two forgot I was cc’ed on that email,” 

Iriye shook her head. “I’ll go send that script,” she said, trying to leave, but Nelly pulled her back down to sit.

“Aaron is fine. You can admit that right,” Nelly asked.

“She can. She's just trying to be professional,” Tamara chuckled.

“Aaron is handsome. There, I said it,” Iriye huffed, seeing the twinkle in the two other women’s eyes. “And he smells good, too,” She said before she rushed out of the office. Hopefully, that would tire them over, even if she heard Nelly’s calling out the word bitch.

After calling it a short day at the office, Iriye had gone home and spent the rest of her afternoon vibing to music as she looked over other scripts she had put on hold when tackling the feature Lanoire Productions wanted to take on first with their deal. Paradise Lost. A black rom-com with influences of the nineties and two thousand films that bonded Tamra and herself into a sisterhood. It wasn’t a dream deferred any longer. 

Just as Iriye was laughing at a line she wrote in a pilot, her phone began ringing. She looked over to see an unknown number appeared on her screen. Lowering her music, she hit the talk button, preparing to tell them they had the wrong number.

“Hello?” Iriye asked, holding the phone to her ear.

“I’m guessing you didn’t save my number,” Aaron spoke through the phone, his voice running over Iriye like scotch.

“I swore I did,” Iriye lied. She had been distracted, her brain trying to come up with excuses. “Are you calling to give me shit about it?” A deep chuckle rolled through Aaron’s chest, sitting in the seat in his trailer. “I come in peace as I always have. I got the script, and I wanted to see if I could come over to the production office to talk to you about it,”

“Too bad I’m not in the office,” Iriye admitted. “I gave myself the rest of the day off,”

“Good for you,” Aaron stated. “Since I got the script, the execs are ready to go. You should be proud,”

“I am. Thank you,” She said. “But I can’t celebrate until they give us the green light, which means attaching some talent. And from what I’ve heard, you got some competition,”

“Competition? If you don’t want me, say that,” Aaron stated.

“Boy, stop,” Iriye let out. His chuckle rang through the phone. “Shouldn’t you be shooting something right now,”

“Lucky for you, I wrapped for the day,” Aaron said. “I’m about to pack up and head out,”

“Lucky for me?” Iriye rolled her eyes at this man. “How so?”

“Well, I wanted to talk more about the script. I read it during lunch, and I wanted to discuss it some more,” 

Iriye sat up, moving her laptop off of her lap. “You read it during lunch? You must have had a long lunch,”

“I’m a quick reader when something captivates me,” Aaron admitted. “I want to discuss this more because I have so many questions. Maybe I can pick your brain over dinner if you’re up for it,” He asked as he smoothed out his pants leg and waited for her to say something.

“I hate to admit it, but I’m already lounging around. I don’t think I can get myself together to go out,” 

“Then I’ll come to you,” Iriye chuckled at Aaron’s words. “Send your address. I’ll pick something up and bring it over,”

“Aaron,” Iriye breathed, looking at her place. 

“Have you eaten?”

“No,” Iriye admitted.

“Send me your address. And if you have any allergies,”

“I don’t,” Iriye bit her lip. “Check your phone. And honestly, please do not bring anything healthy. I earned it today,”

“Got it, Miss Edwards,” Aaron spoke, his deep voice making Iriye’s stomach nervous. She said goodbye and hung up, her head falling to the back of the couch. 

“What the hell,” Iriye spoke aloud. She moved to get up, figuring he would be here within the hour. Iriye wasn’t playing when she said she had been lounging around, wearing booty shorts, no bra, and a baggy shirt. 

Iriye went to her room and stripped her clothes to change into high-waisted jeans and a concert t-shirt, tucking it into her jeans to make A Victoria Monet concert t-shirt look more hip.

She went to her bathroom, pulling her goddess locs out of her ponytail. She shook her locs out and grabbed her makeup bag, looking in the mirror.  If her mother could see her now, trying to make herself up for some man she hardly knew… she would at least be proud.

Iriye put on some mascara, forgoing foundation because she wasn’t about to do all that for an hour with Aaron. They were going to eat—that was all—eat and talk. She found a lip gloss that was not too much and swiped it on her lips.

She looked at her reflection; her brown skin still looked good from the skincare routine she did earlier after she watched her face. She looked at her foundation; Fenty-four twenty would have to wait.

Iriye quickly swept her place to make sure it looked good, stacking books she had strewn around and fluffing the throw pillows. As she moved to put her shoes on the shoe rack, she nearly tripped over them.

After more nervous tidying up, she went to the little bar cart in her kitchen and decided she needed a shot of something strong to quell the nerves. She grabbed a glass and poured a shot. 

It was a matter of time before there was a knock at her door, and she headed to the door, shaking the nerves out, and opened it. 

“Hey,” Iriye breathed, seeing Aaron standing in her doorway, hoodie and glasses on. He had to lean down some to come into her doorway. 

“Hey,” Aaron put his backpack down, and Iriye took the two takeout bags from him. “I got Chinese. It felt like a safe bet,”

“You made a good choice, Mister Pierre. You might earn that conversation about Paradise Lost after all,”

Iriye placed the bags on her coffee table, trying not to watch as he turned to take his shoes off, his ass hugged nicely by his khaki pants.

I am no better than a man. Iriye headed to the kitchen to grab some forks and plates. When she returned, she saw Aaron pulling out all the take-out containers, so she moved to sit by him.

“Is this all for me?” Iriye joked.

“For us. I didn’t know what you wanted or liked,” Aaron stated. A genuine smile came over her face as she looked at him.

Once they finished their feast, Aaron pulled the script and a journal out as Iriye moved the take-out containers out of the way. 

“I hope you know you’re not getting any of that kung pao chicken leftovers to take home,” She muttered.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, love,” He stated, and Iriye had to ignore the nerves he was causing. Aaron opened his journal as Iriye returned and peeked to see what he had written.

“That’s a lot of notes,” Iriye chuckled. He let her see more of it, and she caught a whiff of cologne again, clearing her throat. He looked over at her, his greyish-green eyes bright and beautiful. “Okay, hit me with it,”

“Isaiah is probably the most raw character I have ever read in a script before,” Aaron started. “His passion. His being. Everything about him… I was hooked within the first few pages. But by the end of Act One, I was rooting for him,”

As he spoke, Iriye was caught in his words about how he could grasp the character entirely. It was hard enough to focus on his actual words when she noticed how sharp his jaw was or the veins on his hands. 

“But this character… he’s so lived in. So real. You really outdid yourself, Iriye,” Aaron praised.

“Thank you,” Iriye felt the wall she was desperately trying to keep up with him coming down a little. But she needed to put some space between them. “You want a drink?” Aaron relaxed back on the couch as she moved away from him.

“Yes, I’ll take whatever you’re drinking,” Aaron said.

Iriye headed to her bar cart and began making them a whiskey sour, feeling like she could kill even more nerves with liquid courage, especially if he were going to seduce her with how insightful he was in talking about Eric and the story of Paradise Lost.

Iriye brought back their drinks, and Aaron thanked her as he took his drink.

“Cheers to you and this getting greenlit,” Aaron held his glass up to hers. She tapped her glass to his and took a sip; the liquor burned, making it slip easily down her throat. 

“Like I told Nelly, we’re not greenlit until talent gets attached, and the execs are cool with it,” Iriye explained. 

“You’ve been saying that for weeks. It’s going to happen, Iriye. I always keep my word,”

Iriye just shook her head at Aaron’s words, watching him take another sip and lick the liquor off his lower lip.

“Can I admit something?” Iriye asked. He nodded. “I went down a rabbit hole of your previous roles,”

“Oh. I wasn’t expecting that,”

“Neither was I, but if anything, Nelly is to blame,” Iriye pointed out. Aaron chuckled. “She sent me a clip from Foe, and I have Prime, so I decided to watch it,” He nodded along, listening to her. “That’s the only one I watched. I didn’t want to get you even more stuck in my head,”

“Can I admit something?” Aaron responded. “Nelly sent me the short films you and Tamara have made. I wanted to know more. So she sent me a few,”

“Of course she did,”

“Nelly is always at the scene of the crime,” Aaron chuckled, Iriye joining in. “But I can tell why she is so passionate for Lanoire. For Tamara. For you. You’re an artist. You care about your work. It’s breathtaking to me. You’re breathtaking to me,”

“Breathtaking on paper. We gotta see it on film now,”

“You will. I already told my team I want to sign on for Paradise Lost,” Aaron stated. 

“Stop playing,” Iriye shook her head, taking another sip of her drink.

“I’m serious, Iriye,” He replied.

Iriye blinked twice at Aaron, looking at her with a slight smirk on his face. His smile grew as Iriye realized he wasn’t joking. She downed the rest of her drink and stood up, needing to pace and calm down.

“You good?” Aaron watched in concern.

Iriye just continued pacing as she heard his words. 

“No, not really,” Iriye stated. Aaron got up and moved to her, stopping her so she could face him. He saw her deep brown eyes, a sense of fear running through them as he moved to cup her cheek, her so aware of his rough hands on her cheeks. “What are you getting out of this?”

“A chance to bring something beautiful you created to life. The script is something I’ve never gotten to do before. To be a part of that would be an honor,” Aaron said, his thumbs stroking her cheeks softly, and she felt herself calming down.

“You’re nothing like I expected,” Iriye closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath and smelling his cologne invading her senses.

“Good,” Aaron tilted her head. Iriye opened her eyes, seeing him staring her down intensely. She was so drawn to him as he surrounded her senses.

Iriye saw the thought flicker across Aaron’s eyes as he looked down at her lips and felt him lean close to her. His head touched hers, her hands traveling up his arms to grasp him.

“Aaron,” Iriye breathed and he pulled her close. “We shouldn’t,”

“We shouldn’t what?” Aaron repeated, tempting her to say it. 

“This… We can’t do this,” Iriye trailed her hands to his on her cheeks. She was trying to find the urge to pull away, but it went all out of the window as he was warm and present with her.

“What’s stopping you?” Aaron brushed his nose against hers softly. “Give me three good reasons,”

“One, you’re tipsy,” Iriye pointed out.

“I only took one sip,” Aaron said, one of his thumbs slowly reaching her chin.

“Two, we don’t know each other well,” Iriye stated, not even caring if his thumb traced over her bottom lip.

“I want to get to know you. I’ve been showing it for the past couple of weeks,” Aaron reminded her. With every email and chance, he had to chat with her. 

Iriye had to keep a clear mind, but it was hard when he was so close to her. Her hands trailed down to his side, resting there to try and focus herself.

“Three, we’re going to be working together now. So, it would be completely unprofessional. A total conflict of interest,” Iriye was trying to stay firm in her decision, but it was going out the window as he pulled her closer. Her body was pressing against all the sinewy muscles that made Aaron.

“It would be wrong,” Aaron nodded. “Does this feel wrong?” He pulled back, his hands moving from her face to her waist, where they stayed politely, brushing against the little sliver of skin between her shirt and jeans.

Iriye was ready to say fuck it so badly. He hadn’t kissed her, frustrating her as much as it turned her on.

“No,” Iriye admitted.

“As much as I want you to kiss me first,” Aaron’s hands went to squeeze the softness of her sides. “I don’t want to compromise your resolve. So if this helps,” He leaned down, and those full bow-shaped lips pressed softly against hers.

Iriye was shocked. How could he be so tender, his lips pressing softly against hers? He was waiting for a reaction because he got one from her. She kissed him back.

The softness that was shared between them was beginning to become intoxicating. Aaron trailed his hands up her arms and placed them around his neck. The movement had her breast pressing against his hard chest, and though she wasn’t trying to make it sexual, a sensual whimper escaped her.

To her surprise, Aaron pulled away first. He took a deep breath as Iriye realized she was in a daze, her arms around his neck. She was about to unwrap herself from him when he stopped her.

“No,” Aaron breathed, the command light on his tongue. He pulled them back to the couch, moving to sit. He pulled his hands off of her body to take his glasses off, setting them on the coffee table. But Aaron again placed his hands on her hips, looking up at her. The hues of his eyes darkened with lust, and she liked it. Liked him having to look up at her from her seated position.

“What do you want right now, Iriye?” He asked her. Talking was too much for Iriye. She needed to show. She let her legs slip between his as he sat on the couch, straddling his thigh some before leaning down. She used one hand to hold onto the back of the couch while the other hand trailed over the nape of Aaron’s neck. She softly dragged her nails and heard a groan vibrate through his chest. “I’m going at your pace,”

“I want… if I do what I want right now, we’re going down a road we can’t come back from,” Iriye whispered. “But I want to. I really want-” Before she could even say another word, Aaron took control and pulled her down till her jean-covered core hit his thigh. “Aaron,” She gasped.

“We’re already here. Trust me, I don’t think I wanna go back now,” Aaron stated. Iriye raised an eyebrow at him. “Take what you want from me,”

Iriye swallowed as she settled onto his thigh. His thigh was muscular and pressing against the seam just right. She gave an experimental rock of her hips, a breathy gasp coming out as Aaron held her hips still in his hands. She felt a bit uncoordinated as she still had one leg pressing between his crotch while the other was on the couch. She paused for a moment, pulling back before she properly straddled him.

“Is this okay?” Iriye let her weight rest on Aaron, and he let out a groan as her center met his. God, it shook her to the core.

“Yeah, much better,” His British accent became more assertive in his voice with those words. Iriye watched him as she rolled her hips forward, seeing the breathy groan he let out. She discovered he was vocal quickly as she began a pace, moving her hips deliberately to see what sounds he made.

When Iriye knew she was doing something right as she ground on Aaron, his hands would flex or grasp her hips.

“Stay right there,” Aaron begged. Her face was pressed against his temple as she ground, the pressure delicious as it caught her clit, and she felt her core growing wet.

“Yes,” Iriye whimpered. His right hand trailed up to cup her ass cheek, and she looked at him shocked. He pushed his hips up against her as he pulled her down onto his throbbing bulge through his khakis.

Iriye had to suppress the cry that left her lips by kissing him, and the two of them began to move their hips in sync, their kisses matching just as close. Her hands moved to cup his neck and cheeks as she worked with him to dry hump him. But there was nothing remotely dry on her side.

Aaron licked the seam of her lips, and Iriye gave him entrance, his tongue licking the roof of her mouth. 

“Shit,” Iriye moaned into his mouth. That movement alone made her wonder what it would feel like to have him doing that to her lower set of lips. He pulled away with a grin.

“It feels good, doesn’t it,” Aaron trailed his lips down her chin and neck. She nodded, letting her nails dig slightly into the nape of his neck. She felt him retaliate with a nip to her neck and her breast pressed into his chest, nipples starting to strain her bra. “God, this isn’t even enough,”

“I know,” Iriye moaned, riding Aaron a little faster as she wanted to chase the feeling deep inside her. One that would quell her momentarily with a release. Aaron kept up with her pace, cupping her ass cheek harder as he moved her more.

“You’re right there, aren’t you?”Aaron grunted against her neck. Iriye nodded. “Take it. I know you want to. Use me,” He leaned back, studying her face. He wanted to take in every sign of her impending pleasure. Seeing he was serious, Iriye rolled her hips even faster. 

Aaron’s moans and groans just served to turn Iriye on even more, especially feeling his bulge against her core. She rode him harder, her clit catching on the inseam of her jeans, and she pressed her head into his neck as she felt the telltale signs. She was close and about to cum in her jeans from dry humping. As immature as it probably was, this was the hottest thing to happen with the opposite sex and her in a while.

“Just like that, Iriye,” Aaron groaned. 

“Aaron…” Aaron gripped Iriye’s ass harder and whined. It took him lifting and gripping her ass so close to her core, causing her to cry out, her body shaking as she came. She didn’t even have time to cry out fully as Aaron pressed his lips against hers and ate up every single whimper and moan. She was sensitive, but he helped her by keeping moving till the waves subsided and the tingle in her stomach subsided.

Iriye felt the kisses Aaron and her share become pecks and his length hard against his pants. 

“Fuck,” Iriye said as she realized he didn’t get off. “I didn’t mean to be selfish,”

“I wanted you too,” Aaron said, his voice deep and strained. She kissed him again before hiding her face on his shoulder.

As the haze of lust came down from her, Iriye had to ask her: What the hell did I just do?

@bluewatersfairy @coquitobby @honeysilkandcinnamon @insaneevanity @meleekabenjamin @theogbadbitch @slowlysteadycoffee @ashanti-notthesinger @thisbeautifullifeofmeandyou @mysticalbiscuitalien3 @irishmanwhore @alonahh @grooveoftiro @gabriellalover @ovohanna24 @ticalsstallion @strawberrymoon45 @hi888888sworld @msuncensered @yurfavdealer @honeys-archives @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @theunsweetenedtruth @blackpinup22 @niggaronnn @aritannahrocks1300 @htnqueen305 @333symone @appelle-moi-si-tu-te-perds-numb6 @bombshellbre95 @wildwomanalereyia @teenage-aria @skvrpion @absentmindeddreamer @blackpinup22 @liv10002 @styleismyaddiction @jungwonsgfs @hooliemooliedonutshawp

[baewritez]

Just A Little Touch Up (0)

( Aaron Pierre X Plus Size OC )

Summary : The black and white life of a makeup artist is given color by A-List Client

Tags : Work Place Romance , Age Gap , Plus Size OC , BDSM , 18 +

 How does one find themselves bent over a kitchen counter with their hands tied behind their back? Better yet how does one find themselves pent under one of the most beautiful men to grace my eyes?! But that is it; that is what holds the answer. If you were to ask how I ended up in this position, I would say it was an exchange of looks, eyes full of desires, wants, needs so pure like honey that you could almost taste its sweetness. His eyes, like crashing waves held me captive fixed in place while a smirk started to spread on his face. I want to be the next thing spread across those juicy pump lips, as if thunder rolled out his lips so confidently, he said “So do you know how long we are in hair and makeup for?” his voice piercing the darkest part of my desires leaving with a newfound longing.  

Strumming over my words “t-t-t-two hours I think” warm air filled the trailer blowing past him as he walked up the stairs closing the door as he stepped in. His cologne of warm nutmeg and patchouli oil filled the air as I fought the urge to take a deep breath. “Thanks, my assistant and manager won’t be on set til 9:00am so it’s just me and you.” Looking up at him I felt like a dwarf, and he was a skyscraper as he moved closer towards me. “Um that is okay I think I can be finished with your makeup before then. You can sit here.” I gestured with my hand to the black makeup chair in front of me. He held out his large hand towards me. “I am Aaron” I looked at the veins near his knuckles; my mouth started to water as I tried to swallow my thirst down. The image of his big hands grabbing my curly puff and pulling flashed in my mind. SLAPPING my hand down I took a step a back and smiled. My heartbeat was like an alarm in my ear at just the idea of being close to him set it into a frenzy. “Would you like a water or coffee?”  His hand slowly went back down to his side as confusion blossomed on his face, but he gently brushed off the interaction and exchange. As he started to get settled into the seat his bulky frame filled the space around me as I instinctively grabbed the counter behind me. A look of concern washed over his face as his handsome facial features scrunched up. Holding up both of his hands the white shirt and black leather jacket raised up to show his chiseled deep v leading to what I could only think was euphoria “I don’t bite, Love” his husky voice breaking the awkward silence. But all I wanted was for him to leave bite marks and hickeys where no one could see and even in places where they could be seen. I wanted him to show the world that I was his; but that was a fantasy. “So, water, right?” My voice trembled, as I started to break my gaze from his charcoal jeans as it now covered the valley of ecstasy. Slowly tracing up past his white v neck t-shirt into his hazelnut brown and storm cloud eyes taking in his clear and blemish free skin. “Water is perfect, Love.” he replies. Aaron moves his arm to rest of the side arm of the chair and he places his hand on chin and rests it on his full amber beard. Taking a deep breathe I turned to face the counter and mirror; I bent down opening the mini fridge to grab a cool bottle of water as a shiver ran down my spine. Coming up from the fridge I am stopped in my tracks as I glance into the mirror only to be frozen in time as Aaron’s eyes created a fire in his wake. I am the match, and he was setting me ablaze his eyes moving from legs to my ass gliding up like a feather. My palms start to form sweat beads became clammy. It’s as if I was rubbed up against a balloon the hair on my neck and arm stands small shocks pulse throughout my body. The sound of our heavy breathing and the humming of the ac unit filled my ears. He was my Hades making me his Persephone as his bottom lip is captured by his teeth. My mouth is left open the idea of his thick finger filling that emptiness sends another shiver down my spine and my body goes relax. The thud of the bottle snaps both of us out of drunken stupor.

** A/N : I hope i didn't keep you waiting too long. If you like the preview let me know. Welcome to BaeWritez where desire can be fulfilled. - XOXO BAE

[keyaho]

summary > Blaire is sick and Terry takes care of her. chapter warnings > fluff, mentions of pregnancy,

'Meet The Richmonds' takes place in between A Different World & Melanin Prep. It's a small series detailing the first 7 years of their marriage and what actually happened in Rebel Ridge.

Terry stepped into the house and toed off his boots by the door. His keys were tossed in the little bowl on the table by the door. The house was warmer than he had left it and that meant one thing. Coupled with Aaron calling him about Blaire passing out during their class field trip, he hauled ass to get off work and home. Noah was in the hands of his grandmother and Angela told him he'd watch him for a few days. They all knew Blaire didn't just get sick. Sighing, Terry rounded the corner into the living room and into the kitchen. Her appetite was probably shit, so he placed an order for takeout and asked Aaron to swing by and pick it up. He could drop it off and just leave it in the kitchen. 

He entered their bedroom and walked to the side of the bed. Blaire was buried beneath the sheets, her hair wild, curled into a ball. Pulling out his phone, he snapped a photo. 

"Dushi,' Terry whispered, sitting on the edge while peeling back the damp layers of sheets. 

He touched her forehead and pulled back, very concerned. She was burning hot. He knew how she felt about hospitals and opted to try and break her fever himself. Terry left her side for a moment, turning on the shower in their bathroom and closed the door so it could build steam. He found her some warm clothes to change into after running her a bath. 

When he came back to the bed, she was sitting up. 

"How's my baby doing,' he asked softly, pushing her hair out of the way so he could see her face. 

"Tired,' she cried in a rush as if she was using the very last of her breath to speak. "My baby,' she suddenly tried getting up. 

Terry realized she remembered what time it was and he grabbed her as she almost fell off the bed. 

"Angela is going to watch him for a few days, baby. Noah is fine. You're not." 

Blaire leaned into Terry, her head falling to his chest. "I don't feel good." She croaked, throat burning as she tried to speak. He reached between them and unbuttoned the silk shirt she was wearing. His hand flattened against her stomach and she placed her hand on top of his. 

"Your morning sickness is getting worse,' he murmured. 

Carrying their second, they hadn't told anyone yet, had Blaire struggling to keep the secret, especially when she was sick, but she had done a good job until now. As soon as Blaire's doctor confirmed her pregnancy, Terry had been all over her and overbearing. He had done the same when she was pregnant with Noah, but this time because she was sicker, Terry was all in her space. 

“It’s time we tell everyone.” He said. 

There was a gleam in his eye. He was more excited for their new addition than Blaire. He already started transforming one of the guest rooms into a nursery. Each time he talked about the baby or did something for the baby, he had the biggest grin on his face. Out of the two of them he was the one that wanted children the most and he wanted a lot of them. So when Blaire gave him he greenlight on baby number two, he put in overtime. No ovulation period went unfucked over the past three months. 

"Tomorrow. I can make soup." She sniffled, sneezed, and let out a tired breath. 

Wrapping his arms around her, Terry lifted her into his arms and carried her towards the bathroom. He sat her on the sink and opened the medicine cabinet. He noticed none of the medicine had been opened. 

"I will make you soup and we will do a video call." He bends his knees so he can look her in the eyes. "Okay?" 

Blaire knew it wasn't safe for everyone to pile in the house while she was sick. She much rather see their faces in person, but conceded. 

"Okay." 

Helping her out of the silk pajamas, he guided her into the tub. He pulled her hair up into a bun so it didn't get wet. He'd seen her wash day routine and knew she was in no condition to do it herself. He'd do it tomorrow because there was no way she was making it to work until the end of the week at least. The studio had already been informed and her assistants would be taking over her classes. 

The water felt soothing on her skin and the added eucalyptus and lavender oils began to clear her mind and ease some pressure she was feeling. She looked up at her husband as he leaned against the sink. His thick arms folded across his chest and she furrowed her brow. 

"What is wrong, Terrence?" 

"Nothing, baby, nothing." He smiled. "You just look so miserable." 

She didn't have the energy to go back and forth with him in light banter. She instead shrugged. 

"Can you come get in the tub with me?" 

"I haven't showered from work." 

"We will shower after." 

Terry rubbed a hand over the back of his head. She was more clingy when she was sick. She leaned into letting him take care of her like he had promised years ago. He knew she loved to teach dance but all he wanted was her home at a reasonable time and her attention on taking care of their children. He'd give his wife whatever she wanted. So Terry nodded and began undressing, watching a smile come to her tired face. Blaire leaned forward as he got in the tub behind her. She instantly made herself comfortable in his arms. He wrapped them around her body and kissed the side of her neck. 

Able to see her small rounding belly, Terry placed on hand on it and rubbed back and forth gently. 

"How's my son doing," he asked, a coy smile on his lips. 

It was faint, but Blaire kissed her teeth. "You made a girl." She corrected. "And she is doing fine." 

They didn't know the gender of the baby and planned to keep it that way until birth. This time Blaire was sure it was a girl, while Terry made sure to tell her he only made boys. Blaire placed her hand on top of his and relaxed as she closed her eyes. 

"Thank you." He said suddenly. 

"What did I do?" She asked. 

"For giving me another child." 

Blaire turned her head and looked up at him. "You wanted a lot of children." 

"But I told you that it's up to you when and how many." He rubs her stomach and rests his hands just under it. "So thank you for this one and Noah." 

They could have stopped at Noah and he would be thankful. He knew Blaire considered his son, Terrence Jr. her son as well, but it was a little different being his wife but having his second child. Her therapist had helped her through that during her pregnancy. It wasn’t a case of infidelity. It was before Blaire made it to Hillman to even reconnect with Terrence. Their sporadic run ins didn’t make them a couple. 

“You are welcome.” 

Taglist: @nayaesworld @peachbuttetfly @heauxvibez @avoidthings @mymindisneverhere @eilujion @heytaewrites  @insidefeelingofanadult @captainwithoutmakingitlove  @kindofaintrovert @jimmybutlrr @beenathembo  @virgomess  @theereina @randomhood @ash-ketchumzzz @megamindsecretlair 

@wabi-sabi1090 @iterum-incipi @liquorlaughslove @eilujion @taureanstargirl @mzv11@Disc0fair @prettyfilmz @simplyzeeka @heytaewrites vivaalenaa theogbadbitch @zillasvilla @nahimjustfeelingit-writes

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[angelic-iam]

Stroke Of Luck Masterlist

Terry Richmond x Black Female Character

Warnings: 18+, smut, bondage, unprotected sex, profanity, angst, adult themes and conversations, hints at infertility, infidelity, death, light violence, abortion and more

Summary: After the tragic loss of her brother Joselynn Taylor struggles to mend together the pieces left from his loss. Needing a shift in energy she decides to move into his ranch house discovering soon it came with an unexpected guest that would inevitably make her whole again

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

[ch33z3grits]

Crimson Obsessions | A Terry Richmond Vampire Series

pairing: Aaron Pierre as Terry Richmond x Justine Skye as Camille DeWaterson

summary: Terry scrambles to correct himself for a massive slip-up concerning Camille, seeking help from one of his most trusted sources. Camille begins to feel scrutinized by Aston, making her wonder just how well she’s hiding her feelings towards Terry.

warnings: 18+ mdni, mentions of sexual situations, dark romance, manipulation, obsessiveness/possessiveness, mentions of blood, mentions of violence, mentions of accidental death, angst

word count: 8266

glossary:

Indulgences: human beings that vampires deem romantically and sexually desirable

Shifting: the ability for supernaturals to change between their human-presenting form and their true appearance

Ambrosia: an aphrodisiac and euphoric substance that makes humans more open to the propositions of supernaturals

a/n: so i definitely planned to post this yesterday, but my wi-fi went out in my apartment 🙃 so posting this from work (where of course, today of all days, everyone wanted to look over my shoulder). hope y'all enjoy!

Terry’s song: Dark Red-Steve Lacy | Camille’s song: Love on the Brain-Rihanna

Pt. Five

Terry

Fuck.

Fuck!

Terry stared down at Camille's unconscious form, the weight of the moment crashing over him. Everything happened so fast, so fucking fast. One moment, she was looking through her purse. The next, she pulled her hand back, a trail of blood catching the light in a brilliant splash of red.

She hurt herself.

The blood was blindingly bright and had magnified her intoxicating scent: a rich blend of vanilla and jasmine that swirled through the air like an ethereal perfume. The droplets fell against the asphalt with a soft, melodic rhythm, like wind chimes. That was all it took for his carefully constructed resolve to break, the sharp pang of hunger shooting through him like wildfire.

His composure shattered in an instant. The discipline he had so carefully cultivated, the iron control that kept his primal instincts chained, snapped. It was only a few seconds, but that was all it took. His hunger consumed him, his drive to take. By the time his mind could even process what was happening, he had taken two desperate gulps of her blood, too much too fast. 

Blinking rapidly, he forced himself to focus. His tongue, still coated in her delicious life force, reached out to lick the wound he had made on her neck. He watched as the marks began to close, the flesh knitting itself back together under his touch. He gathered her body into his arms and, with hurried movements, rushed to his car. He flung open the passenger door and gently laid her in the seat, securing the seat belt around her. He sprinted to the driver’s side, the engine roaring to life beneath him as he sped away without so much as a glance at his blind spot.

His hands shook slightly as he fumbled with his phone, dialing a number he called frequently, but never for anything related to this. "Come on, come on," he muttered under his breath, frustration building with every passing second. The phone rang, the seconds stretching into eternity, until a familiar voice finally broke through, calm but laced with concern.

“Terry? Everything okay?” the voice of his close friend and fellow vampire, Elijah, came through. Terry’s chest tightened, and for a moment, he couldn’t find the words. It felt like everything was falling apart. “You working today?” he forced out, glancing at Camille slumped in the seat beside him.

“Yeah, why?”

“I need help,” Terry’s voice raw with guilt and fear. “I... I lost control.” He could hear Elijah’s sharp intake of breath on the other end.

“How many pints?” Elijah asked, his voice low and measured, trying to keep the conversation as discreet as possible.

Terry’s heart ached as the reality of the situation sank in deeper. “Like one and a half, maybe two. She’s knocked out.”

“It’s going to be okay,” Elijah’s voice was calm again. “Just get her to the hospital now.”

“Yeah,” Terry replied, the words feeling like lead in his mouth. “I’m on my way now.”

He accelerated, his eyes locked on the road ahead, but his mind was still reeling, still trying to process what had just happened.

He didn’t mean to drink from her. He didn’t mean to siphon off a little bit of her life force. Not yet, at least. That was supposed to come later, far later, after he had her completely, utterly, helplessly in love with him. So deeply, that the revelation of his true nature would only cause her temporary horror. He would coax her into forgiveness, into a sense of security that made her feel safe with someone as deadly as him. And once she got comfortable, he would show her just how pleasurable and rewarding it would be to offer him her vein. He would make love to her, slow and deliberate, to put her mind at ease and relax her enough to get her blood rushing for the perfect bite. Let her cum a few times so her mind would be open to him taking her. Then, his fangs would sink into her as he plunged into her depths, letting her pussy clench around him as he sent her to a place beyond euphoria. And he would feast on her slowly as she cried over how good he made her feel. Camille would be hooked, eagerly offering herself to him as much as he pleased.

But in a moment of weakness, he lost it. Jeopardized his whole plan. His future with Camille. All because of one unexpected cut. He looked over to her once more, checking on her state. She was still unmoving. He reached his right hand over to her, placing it over her nose lightly. His body relaxed a bit, feeling her breath hit his fingers. But, they were shallow. 

“Almost there, baby,” he whispered, extending his reach to stroke her hair. “Almost there.”

After recklessly weaving in and out of traffic and through red lights, Terry finally came to a halt in front of St. Joseph’s Medical Center, his heart pounding in his chest. He didn’t give a damn that he parked his Lamborghini Urus in the area designated exclusively for ambulances. This wasn’t just an emergency; it was his emergency. 

Elijah was already there, standing at the curb with a gurney and two nurses already in position. They rushed to the passenger side, opening the door and swiftly pulling out Camille’s limp body. The nurses worked with practiced precision, their faces a blur of focus and urgency as they wheeled her away, the wheels squealing against the pavement.

Terry attempted to follow, but Elijah moved quickly, stepping directly in front of him and placing his hand firmly on Terry’s chest, blocking his path. Terry’s body stiffened, and his eyes blazed with fury. He shot Elijah a murderous glare, but Elijah met it without flinching.

“Terry,” Elijah said, his voice calm but firm. “I understand, but you need to calm down—”

“Man, get the fuck out of my way,” Terry growled, his voice low and dangerous.

Elijah didn’t budge. Instead, he raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Terry, I know you’re basically made of money and power, but there’s no amount that’ll save you if you shift in front of all these people. Don’t expose yourself.”

Terry’s chest rose and fell sharply as his brain processed Elijah’s words. He was right. Shifting in a busy area would be disastrous. There would be too many consequences to count. His grip on his control wavered, and his instincts screamed at him to act, to run after Camille, to make sure she was okay, but Elijah held him in place.

Terry inhaled sharply, his breath ragged as he squeezed his eyes shut, grounding himself. Elijah stood silently beside him, offering no judgment, just the quiet reassurance of his presence. “Focus, make sure your eyes are back to normal,” Elijah said softly.

With deliberate effort, Terry forced himself to take a few deep breaths. The scent of Camille’s blood, still clinging to his lips, made his mouth water, but he pushed it aside. Slowly, painfully, he concentrated on his usual form. His human facade. And when he opened his eyes again, he could tell that they were back to blue.

Elijah gave him a long, appraising look before nodding. “Alright, you’re good. Follow me.”

The two men hurried into the hospital, navigating the sterile white hallways with precision. Terry kept his head down, forcing himself to stay calm as the air around him buzzed with the sounds of chattering voices and beeping medical devices. His mind was on Camille, her pulse, her breath. She’s alive, she’s alive, he repeated to himself silently. After a series of twists and turns, they arrived at the room where Camille laid.

Terry let out a breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding. The sight of her, although still unconscious, hooked up to a heart monitor and an IV drip, brought him a sense of relief that almost made his knees buckle. 

He leaned against the doorframe, letting the steady beeping of the monitor wash over him. His chest eased.

“She’s stable,” Elijah said, his voice softer now, but his gaze still sharp, measuring Terry. “But we should probably talk once she’s discharged. This isn't like you at all.”

Terry nodded, his eyes fixed on Camille. His guilt was only growing stronger. This wasn’t just a slip-up. It was a failure. He had always been unshakable and indestructible. He had always been able to control himself, especially under pressure. But Camille had obviously become his weakness. He was better than this. He had to be. If he was going to have her in his life, he had to stay composed. He couldn’t slip into some ferocious, lust-fueled hunger every time she got an injury.

“Hey,” Elijah's voice was gentle as he placed a reassuring hand on Terry's arm. “She’s going to be alright. Don’t be too hard on yourself.” With those few words of comfort, he gave Terry a firm nod before turning and heading down the hall, leaving Terry alone.

Terry exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face as his mind raced. He couldn’t allow self-pity to sink in. Camille needed him to have everything under control by the time she woke up, so she wouldn’t be burdened with any more worries than necessary.

First, he called the office, alerting HR to the fact that Camille had a medical emergency and wouldn’t be returning to work for the rest of the day. Next, he dialed up an associate who dealt with scenes related to these types of incidents. They would be able to retrieve her car, delete any video footage of what happened, and make sure any witnesses didn’t remember what happened. Finally, he sent a brief text to Elijah, requesting that he bring some ambrosia to Camille’s room. She would need to drink it soon in case her memory returned and she remembered anything about him…attacking her.

Terry let out another sigh, his body sinking into the chair beside her bed. He reached out and took her hand in his, gently lifting it to his lips and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to her knuckles. "I’m so sorry, Camille," he whispered, his voice barely a breath. His thumb brushed tenderly against her hand, the softness calming his thoughts.

As he returned her hand back to her side, the door burst open with surprising force. Terry’s head snapped up, eyes widening as a woman stood in the doorway, clearly breathless. It was Kali. Her wide eyes darted between him and Camille, her shock palpable.

"Terry?" she asked, her voice thick with confusion.

"Kali?" he replied, his voice coming out a little strained. "You work here?" He raised an eyebrow, trying to mask his unease, but the wariness in her gaze made him anxious. Did she see me kiss her hand? He thought. Nah, she definitely would’ve mentioned something. Just stay cool.

"Yeah," Kali responded, smoothing her scrubs as she took a step closer. "I’m an RN in the NICU. Why are you here?" Her eyes narrowed slightly, still scanning him with suspicion.

"She fainted at a work event after cutting her hand," Terry said, his voice calm and controlled. "I brought her here. Didn’t want her to be alone." He gave her a reassuring smile, hoping that would ease her. Kali’s guarded expression softened, his explanation seeming reasonable. 

"Oh, God," she sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. She crossed over to Camille’s side, placing the back of her hand gently against her forehead, her face filled with concern.

After a moment, Kali turned back to Terry, gratitude flickering in her eyes. "Thank God you were there," she murmured, her voice tinged with relief. "Who knows what might’ve happened."

 She wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for me, he thought. He forced a weak smile, nodding in agreement.

"Yeah, I'm glad too," he said quietly, his eyes falling back to Camille. He cleared his throat. "The doctor said she was gonna be okay?"

Kali immediately moved to the wall, pulling the chart that hung there. She scanned it quickly, her brow furrowing as she read over the details. She glanced up at him.

"Yeah, it says she lost a fair amount of blood, but not enough to be in hypovolemic shock," Kali muttered, her voice trailing off. She looked back at Camille, the confusion growing in her expression. "But that’s strange. She should be awake by now..."

Terry’s pulse quickened. Fainting is common for humans during their first few feedings, he reminded himself.

Before Terry could respond, a soft whimper filled the room. Instinctively, both Kali and Terry turned toward Camille as her eyelids fluttered. Terry’s chest tightened as he watched her stir, a lump forming in his throat.

She’s waking up, he thought urgently, his telepathic message reaching Elijah. That ambrosia—still on the way?

Be there as soon as I can. It’s still mixing, came Elijah's response.

“Terry?” Camille’s voice broke through, fragile and hoarse, her gaze locked onto him. His heart skipped a beat as he leaned closer to her. “Hey, Camille,” he said. “How do you feel?”

She blinked, disoriented, her eyes trying to make sense of the unfamiliar surroundings. “Umm… a little lightheaded. What happened? Where are we?”

Terry opened his mouth to answer, but before he could find the right words, Kali spoke, her tone warm yet tinged with relief. “You’re at the hospital, babe.”

Camille’s head shifted to the other side of the bed, her gaze landing on Kali. The confusion in her eyes deepened. “Kali?” she whispered, obviously shocked. “You work almost forty minutes away from me. How’d I end up here?”

Terry hesitated, knowing he needed to stay as vague as possible. He spoke slowly, choosing his words with care. “You cut yourself,” he explained gently, motioning toward the bandaged finger on her hand. “You brought something from the office to me… but you lost a lot of blood and fainted pretty soon after you got there.”

Confusion continued to cross her face as she struggled to remember. “What?” she whispered again, her voice laced with disbelief. “I don’t even remember leaving the office…”

Kali's voice was soft but filled with gratitude. “Thank goodness Terry was there,” she said, her eyes never leaving Camille. “He acted so quickly… this could’ve been much worse.” Her gaze finally shifted to Terry, a silent thank you.

Camille’s eyes also returned to Terry’s, her expression both apologetic and touched. “Terry…thank you so much,” she said, her honey-like voice making Terry’s heart, and dick, jump. “I’m really sorry this interrupted your day…”

Terry shook his head, crouching so they were eye to eye. His hand gently brushed hers, a quiet reassurance. “Don’t apologize, Camille,” his words steady but filled with unspoken emotion. “I’m just… really glad you’re okay.”

They exchanged a look and it lingered a moment too long. A look that shouldn’t have been shared, too warm, too soft. But before that gaze could settle, the door to the room creaked open, and the moment disappeared.

“Camille, I came as soon as I got the call,” Aston’s voice broke through the room, panting hard as if he rushed to get here. Terry nearly growled with irritation. Kali visibly stiffened, her entire demeanor changing as she watched him walk further into the room.

Hmmm, Terry thought. I wonder what that's all about.

“Baby, are you–” Aston’s words cut off abruptly when his eyes landed on Terry. A flicker of confusion flashed across his face, followed by irritation that was quick to harden into something sharper. Terry’s lips curled into a smirk, his gaze unwavering as Aston’s discomfort grew.

“Terry,” Aston greeted through clenched teeth. “What are you doing here?” Terry tilted his head slightly, amused by the way he reacted to him. He could practically taste his wariness. He wanted to be an asshole and say something slick, but for Camille’s sake, he just smiled politely. But before he could say a word, Kali’s voice cut through the silence, her tone full of venom.

“He’s making sure Camille is well taken care of,” she said, her eyes locking onto Aston with a cold, calculated gaze. “Which makes me wonder, why weren’t you here?” Aston’s eyes snapped toward her, a flash of disdain crossing his face. His lips curled into a slight frown as his dislike of her, clearly mutual, seemed to fill the room.

“Kaliyah,” he grumbled.

“Aston,” she shot back just as tightly, emphasizing the syllables of his name as if giving him a discreet warning. Her eyes narrowed in challenge.

Terry raised an eyebrow as they stared each other down.

Camille attempted to break through the rising tension. “Guys, please–”

Aston cut her off, his focus solely on Kali. “Since you must know, Kaliyah,” his voice bordered a snarl, straining to hold onto whatever composure he had left. “I was on the other side of town. For. Work.” Kali’s eye twitched, the tightness of her jaw telling Terry she was close to snapping.

Camille shifted in bed, the effort pulling Terry’s attention back to her. He moved instinctively, reaching out to steady her, to help her sit up. Aston’s eyes flicked over, a flicker of suspicion in his eyes. Terry just shot him a harmless grin as he rubbed Camille’s forearm soothingly. 

“But I do find it strange that you’re here, Terry.” The sharpness in Aston’s voice was enough to make Terry’s eyebrow raise again, his eyes narrowing slightly. Don’t start something you can’t finish nigga, he thought. He kept his calm, but the tension in the room was thick, the air hanging heavy with animosity.

“I brought her here—”

Aston cut him off, his voice raising. “And how were you able to do that if she was in the office and you weren’t?” His challenge hung in the air, mocking. Terry’s smile faltered. The mask he wore slipped for a fraction of a second, his expression turning cold and dangerous.

Aston faltered, shrinking under Terry’s glare. It was dark and unblinking, like a predator assessing his prey. Terry slowed his breath as his fingers flexed at his sides. 

“Aston, this is not an interrogation.” Camille’s voice, low and firm, cut through the charged silence. Between her tone and the icy glare from Terry, Aston’s jaw tightened, but he fell silent.

Just as the room seemed to suffocate under the pressure, the door swung open once again, grasping everyone’s attention. Elijah entered, his presence immediate and commanding. A nurse followed closely behind, balancing a tray with a cup of nearly golden liquid. The sight of it made Terry’s pulse quicken and he let out a quiet, imperceptible sigh of relief—finally.

His body, which had been coiled tight with tension, seemed to relax for the first time since stepping into the room. About damn time.

Elijah’s eyes swept the room, brow quirking at the unexpected number of visitors. “Oh, there are more parties here than I expected,” he remarked, his tone light but observant. “Hello, everyone. I’m Dr. Elijah Baptiste.” His gaze softened as it landed on Camille, a warm smile spreading across his face. “Camille, glad to see you’re awake. Would you like everyone to stay while we discuss your diagnosis?”

Camille opened her mouth to answer, but before she could speak, Aston cut her off—again.

Damn, this nigga can never shut up, Terry thought, irritation running through him. 

“Nope, just me will be fine,” Aston said, his words dripping with possessiveness, a clear attempt to reassert his control. Rage pulsed through Terry. His jaw clenched tightly as he fought the urge to lash out.

Elijah glanced at Terry, confusion momentarily flickering in his eyes, before turning back to Aston with a steady professionalism. “And you are…?” he asked.

Aston’s nostrils flared as though the question itself offended him. “I’m Camille’s fiancé,” he stated, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “The hospital called me when she was admitted. They’re not related to her. He’s just a coworker. And she’s just a friend,” he stated, his voice taut.

Elijah nodded slowly, his gaze shifting back to Terry.

I thought she was your Indulgence, Elijah’s telepathic voice rang out in Terry’s mind.

It’s fucking complicated, he thought back, the statement fueling his irritation.

“Well, thanks for coming in,” Elijah said, his tone clipped as he nodded toward Aston, subtly signaling the conversation was moving on. He turned to Terry and Kali. “If you all don’t mind…” His voice trailed off, signaling for them to leave.

Kali moved first, still visibly disturbed by Aston’s presence. She leaned over the side of Camille’s bed, giving her a gentle hug. She whispered something in her ear that Terry couldn’t catch. When she straightened back up, she met Terry’s eyes, her smile faint but sincere. “Thanks for looking out for her,” Kali said quietly. Terry gave a small nod, the tightness in his chest easing slightly. “Of course, it was no problem.”

Kali then turned to Aston to roll her eyes before she moved past Elijah and the other nurse, vanishing into the hallway.

Terry lingered for a moment, his eyes locking with Camille’s as he squeezed her hand gently. She looked at him, her eyes almost pleading, like she wanted him to stay. But Terry knew better. If he stayed, Elijah would have to peel him off of Aston. And he didn’t need her to see that.

“Get some rest, Camille,” he said softly, his voice steady but edged with a quiet affection. “I’ll see you when you’re okay to come back to the office.”

He held her gaze for one last moment before reluctantly tearing his eyes away to give a subtle nod to Elijah and walked out of the room.

Camille

Camille watched Terry walk out of the hospital room, a heavy ache settling in her chest as she reluctantly let him go. His touch had been so soft, so full of care that seemed to linger even after he had pulled away. She wished that moment could stretch on forever. But the quiet of the room quickly brought her back. She took a slow, steadying breath, pushing the feeling deep within her, regaining her composure. Aston’s gaze pressed against her skin but she refused to meet it. Instead, her eyes fixed onto Dr. Baptiste. Dr. Baptiste gave her an amused look, making her wonder if he observed the moment she shared with Terry. But he just brought his chair closer to her bedside.

 “Camille, how are you feeling?” Dr. Baptiste’s voice was calm as he leaned back in his chair, clipboard resting casually on his knees. She offered him a faint smile, her mind still struggling to shake off the thick fog clouding her thoughts.

“I’m okay,” she replied, her voice lacking conviction. “I just… wish I could remember what happened.”

Dr. Baptiste nodded sympathetically, his expression softening. “Terry and I go way back. He told me the details. Apparently, you cut yourself on something sharp in your purse. It was a deep wound, considering all the blood you lost.”

Camille’s forehead creased slightly, her mind reaching for fragments of the missing pieces. “Yeah, but…” She paused, uncertainty threading through her words. “I don’t know. I feel like there was more to it.”

For the briefest of moments, Dr. Baptiste’s gaze shifted, something unreadable flashing in his eyes. It was gone before Camille could fully process it, his calm demeanor returning instantly.

“Well, maybe this will help jog your memory,” he said smoothly, nodding toward the nurse who stood by holding a tray. On it was a small cup filled with what appeared to be apple juice with an almost unnaturally golden hue. “Just a little juice to boost your blood sugar. Down it as fast as you can.”

Still feeling disoriented, she adjusted herself, reaching for the cup. The moment the liquid touched her tongue, her brows knit together in surprise. It was… amazing. The sweetness was rich, more satisfying than any drink she ever had. She swallowed eagerly, but as the taste lingered, something about it gnawed at her memory, a sense of familiarity.

“Well, what if she’s right, Doc?” Aston's voice broke through her haze, his eyes tracking her movements as she drank. “What if Terry didn’t tell us everything? Maybe there’s more to this.”

Dr. Baptiste gave him a look, half dismissive, half irritated, before responding.

His tone was steady but had a subtle edge. “Like I said, Terry and I go way back. He’s not the type to leave things out. I’m sure he wouldn’t have withheld anything, especially not from Camille. He cared enough to bring her here.” His eyes flicked back to Camille, something underlying his gaze.

Aston looked dissatisfied, but he kept quiet, his gaze flickering back to Camille.

“You’ll be fine, Camille,” Dr. Baptiste said, his voice gentle now. “Just a couple more hours here to stabilize your blood levels. But you’ll need to take the next two days off from work. Just to get your strength back up.” 

Camille nodded slowly, noticing how exhausted she felt. For a moment, she surrendered to the pull of sleep, but a shift in the room brought her back. She opened her eyes just as Dr. Baptiste rose from his chair.

“Thank you so much, doctor,” she murmured with gratitude.

Dr. Baptiste paused, flashing her another kind smile. “You’re very welcome, Camille. I’ll check in on you again in about an hour.” With that, he gave a curt nod to Aston, who stood silently near the door, before heading down the hallway, his footsteps fading into the distance.

Camille felt Aston’s gaze bore into her. She tilted her head, confused. “Aston, what's wrong?” she asked, her voice sincere.

He crossed his arms tightly, his jaw clenched in frustration. “Why’d you leave the office in the middle of a critical deadline?” His voice sharp and accusing. “What could Terry have possibly needed that was so urgent?”

Camille’s mind scrambled, but the haze still clouded her thoughts. She struggled to recall, everything feeling distant and blurred. “I’m sure it was important,” she said quietly, “but I can’t remember exactly…”

Aston let out a frustrated huff, his expression darkening as he moved to sit in the chair Terry had occupied earlier. “I wonder why that is,” he muttered under his breath, his voice tinged with suspicion, before his attention shifted to his phone.

The silence between them stretched. Camille shrank back against her pillow, his unspoken judgment making her feel small. She sighed, her body surrendering to the overwhelming exhaustion, her eyelids heavy once more. As Aston’s fingers tapped furiously on his phone screen, her mind drifted into the comfort of sleep, thoughts swirling around the unease she felt, not just about the day, but about Aston’s reaction.

Terry

Terry’s leg bounced slightly, the restless motion contrasting the stillness of his sprawled position on his couch. His fingers curled around the glass of bourbon in his hand, the amber liquid swirling in a slow, lazy circle as he gazed out at the Houston skyline against the starry sky. It was nearing the time Elijah had promised to come by to talk to him about the events of the day. A talk Terry had been dreading since he left the hospital, yet knew he couldn’t avoid.

He had originally wanted to cancel. It would only flame his feelings of failure. But the memory of his actions with Camille, the aggression, the lack of control… it nagged at him. He had always been a strong proponent of proper vampire-human interactions—he prided himself on being an enforcer of those boundaries. Yet, here he was, having crossed one of the most sacred lines in their world. And for what? A brief taste of her? A moment of weakness, a lapse in judgment? It was unacceptable. He’d never had an incident like this, ever, and the self-loathing that followed was starting to suffocate him.

But Terry had spent the entire evening lost in his thoughts, replaying the events of the day over and over again, so he knew he needed to hear whatever Elijah had to say. Partnering with an Indulgence is something he never had before. Of course, he had plenty of flings, plenty of fleeting romances with Indulgences. But nothing that he wanted to last forever. Camille was the first to draw him in to the point that he happily wanted to fall head over heels in love. She was everything he wanted and then some. But today showed him that he needed some help, some serious guidance. His bloodlust and sexual attraction were blurring into each other, making Camille enticing in more ways than one.

It was an experience not unfamiliar to supernaturals who chose to partner with humans, but it was always a fine line to walk. He knew what could happen if he wasn’t careful—the rare, horrifying instances when a vampire’s desire for their human partner spiraled out of control and led to injury, or worse, death. Terry shuddered at the thought, gulping down another sip of bourbon, the burn oddly soothing him. He closed his eyes for a moment.

Camille’s safety had to come first. He couldn’t afford to let this spiral into something darker.

That was why, despite his bruised ego, despite his embarrassment, he couldn’t refuse Elijah’s help. He needed Elijah. He was a rare case in their world, an anomaly that everyone aspired to. He’d been married to his Indulgence for over sixty years. Their relationship was something Terry could only dream of—blissful, serene, and above all, stable. It was the kind of union that Terry wanted with Camille. But today showed him that he might not be ready. He needed advice from someone who knew how to keep their desire in check, how to keep things from unraveling in a way that could cause irreparable damage. Elijah had the answers, and Terry was desperate to have them before he made anything worse.

A request for the penthouse elevator, a soft chime that echoed through his home, pulled Terry from his thoughts. He pulled out his phone and opened the surveillance app, checking that the request was coming from Elijah. The screen showed his friend casually pacing in the lobby, prompting him to approve the request. He stood from the couch, finishing his bourbon as he walked towards his front entrance. Just as he placed his glass on his island counter, a knock came from his door. He took a deep breath, further bracing himself before opening the door. Elijah stood behind it, greeting him with a small smile. 

“Terry,” Elijah greeted as Terry moved to let him inside. “It’s good to see you again.” Terry chuckled as they dapped each other up and made their way to his central sitting area. “Yeah, it’s like I haven’t seen you since this morning,” he joked back, their laughter filling the space. Their conversation was light for the first thirty minutes. They vented about their jobs, the latest updates in the supernatural world, and everything in between. But, Terry shifted the conversation as he poured him another glass of dark liquor. 

“So about today…,” he trailed off, sliding the glass to Elijah. Elijah nodded with a knowing look. “I really fucked up.”

Elijah gave him a sympathetic glance. “Look Terry–”

“I mean, you know me man. I’ve never done some shit like that before,” Terry continued, exasperated. 

“Terry–”

“Part of me wants to cut ties and… j-just let her go, but I'm way too fucking obsessed–”

“Terry,” Elijah repeated, his voice calm but firm. Terry’s jaw tightened, his fists clenched at his sides. The interruption was maddening, but Elijah was one of the few he actually respected. So, he swallowed the growing rage and kept his mouth shut.

“It happens,” Elijah continued. “We hate when it happens, but it does.”

Terry swallowed the lump in his throat. He could feel the heat rise in his chest, his breath shallow. He couldn’t look at Elijah. Not now. Not while the guilt seemed to consume him. 

"The important thing," Elijah went on, his voice softening with a touch of understanding, "is that you stopped yourself. Camille was discharged just fine and will have a reason to have a few days off from work, which she seemed excited about. It worked itself out, so you can’t beat yourself up about it forever."

The words hit Terry like a slap. He blinked rapidly, the sting of unshed tears blurring his vision, his hands shaking at his sides. 

Terry’s teeth ground together as the words spilled from him, a low, guttural hiss. “Don’t try and pretend you know how I feel right now,” he spat, but Elijah remained unphased by his crackling fury. “You have no fucking idea.”

Elijah’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t flinch. He set his glass down, his fingers lingering on the rim for a moment before he leaned forward, elbows pressed against his knees. 

“You’re right,” Elijah said calmly. “I don’t know how you feel, man. I don’t know at all. But I do know how you would feel if it had been worse.”

Terry’s eyebrows knitted together. “What are you talking about?” Elijah dragged a hand over his face, turning to look out of the huge windows. 

“My first Indulgence…I had killed her. Accidentally, of course.” Terry’s eyes grew huge, his anger disappearing as his stomach fell.

“Yo, Elijah man…,” Terry began, “I-I didn’t kno–”

“It was in 1894. A Juneteenth celebration…her name was Violetta…,” he trailed off, as if he was no longer talking to Terry but more so talking to himself. “We had just made plans to get married. And…and I had gotten too excited. And before I could even process it, my teeth were already in her neck.” Elijah turned his attention back to Terry, a single tear sliding down the side of his face. Terry stared back at him, not knowing what to say. He was too mortified.

“She ran away from me, screaming the most heart-wrenching things. I didn’t get a chance to seal the wound, so she just bled out as she ran.” A silent sob shook his frame. “I tried to kill myself so many times, but you know we can’t do that. Then I tried to pay others to kill me, but they turned me down out of pity. So I punished myself the best way I could for over seventy years,” he let out a sad chuckle. “But then, I met Dolores. And I kept trying to run from my feelings. Run from our nature. But after she expressed her feelings for me, I realized that I’d been given a second chance. A fresh start.” Elijah scooted a bit closer to Terry, looking him dead in the eye.

“So yeah, you slipped up today. There’s no doubt about that. But I saw the way y’all looked at each other. That love…it’s real, and it don’t come too often for our kind. So get all your feelings out tonight. But tomorrow and going forward, take advantage of the second chance you’ve been given.” Elijah gripped Terry’s shoulder. Terry nodded, letting out a light sniffle. 

“Alright,” Elijah sighed, leaning back and wiping a hand across his face, clearly done with the heaviness of the moment. “Enough of this sad ass shit.” His playful tone pulled a much-needed laugh from Terry. As Terry reached for his drink again, Elijah spoke again, but his tone now full of mischief. “So tell me, how you gonna get rid of that stuck-up white boy? You didn’t tell me she was engaged…and not to you.”

Terry’s eyes flicked to him, a smirk widening on his face as he took a slow sip of his drink. “He’s not gonna be a problem much longer,” Terry said, a hint of satisfaction in his voice. The thought of the pending $80,000 in his account made his lips twitch upward. Courtesy of Aston McCoy himself. It was all falling into place.

"Hmmm...I hope so," Elijah continued. "Because I thought you had gotten soft." Terry cocked an eyebrow.

"What makes you say that?" Terry spoke, his voice laced with irritation. Elijah just cracked a small smile.

"Aye man, I'm not tryna doubt you or nothing. But your woman had to go home with another nigga today. The Terry I met back in Harlem all them decades ago? He would've never let that shit happen."

Terry's jaw clenched, feeling his eyes shift out of anger. "I can't just approach this like some fucking savage. This new era, all the fucking cameras, all the fucking eyes on you," Terry gritted.

Elijah's smile just grew. "Yeah, I know. But you might want to speed up this plan of yours...it's been three months. And that white boy seems to be onto you. He might just speed up this marriage thing."

As much as Terry wanted to argue, a quiet, reluctant truth settled deep within him. He couldn’t deny Elijah’s point. He was being too soft. Too cautious. He had been holding back, afraid of causing too much turmoil in Camille’s life. But now, maybe a little disruption was exactly what was needed to finally have her, all to himself. The realization sent a thrill through him.

As Terry and Elijah continued their conversation, the words a dull hum in the background, Terry's mind began to shift. He couldn’t stay in the shadows any longer, playing it safe. His thoughts spiraled toward something darker, more sinister. The idea took root: what if he took his plan to another level? It might be riskier. It might paint him as the villain. He would do whatever it took to make Camille forgive him, to make her see that he was worth the chaos. No matter how far he had to push, no matter how much he had to break along the way.

Stephanie’s song: I Put A Spell on You-Nina Simone

Stephanie

Stephanie eyed the small, weathered shack before her. A chill ran down her spine as she studied the door. Everything about the place felt off. Yet, she knew the answers she sought and the solutions she desperately craved were waiting for her behind the door. But still, hesitation gripped her in a way that was unfamiliar. And that was the last thing Stephanie Hodges was used to. She never hesitated.

She was THEE Stephanie Hodges. A woman who always got whatever she wanted with a mere flutter of her lashes, the curl of her lips, or the perfect, calculated glance. She never needed to beg. She took, without a care of who it impacted. And yet here she was, standing in front of this dilapidated little botanica. It was infuriating. Everything had been within her grasp, except for one thing. One damn thing. 

The man vampire, Terry Richmond, had entered her life a little over two months ago. Yet in that short time, he’d completely consumed her. She had never believed in love. She only believed in lust, scheming, and social climbing. But Terry... Terry had undone her. The second he’d walked into her office, she knew she had to have him. His presence radiated with an undeniable allure, an intoxicating blend of power, wealth, and dominance. He was everything she’d ever fantasized about and more.

It didn’t matter that she had been entangled in an affair with her older, established boss, Mr. Grant. Terry’s entire being eclipsed everything. She didn’t just want him; she needed him. So, when he’d fallen into her seductive web within the first week of their interactions at the firm, she’d assumed he would be as simple as her other conquests. Easily secured, just like everything else in her perfectly controlled life.

But then... weeks had passed, and Terry’s interest in her seemed to fade. Slowly at first, but it was undeniable. He stopped asking her out for lunch. The flirtation that had once been so effortless between them had evaporated. She’d tried everything. Subtle touches, lingering glances, suggestive comments. But nothing seemed to reach him. He had pulled away leaving her confused and frustrated. And their sexual relationship had nearly slowed to a stop. During his first few weeks, he was dicking her down on every surface in his office, leaving her on cloud nine every night she went home from work. Now, he only entertained quickies every few days. And while the sex was always enjoyable, it wasn’t as intense and mind-numbing like it was before.

For weeks, Stephanie had turned the puzzle of Terry Richmond over in her mind, studying him from every angle, trying to determine how to draw him back to her. Every attempt to rekindle the spark between them had failed miserably. At work, when she tried to entice him, he would skillfully sidestep her advances, actively avoiding her. And then there was Camille, the ever-present distraction, the woman who seemed to effortlessly claim his attention.

Camille had a way of slipping into his world, always there for lunch, always showing up at work events, always the one to share private moments with him while Stephanie had to watch from afar. It drove her crazy. Stephanie’s mind replayed the countless times she’d seen Camille admiring Terry when he laughed or giving him a look that lingered too long during a conversation, her hand brushing his arm in a way that made Stephanie’s blood boil. Camille seemed to savor every moment of his attention, putting on a coy act while Stephanie’s needs went unnoticed, unfulfilled. 

The thought of it had pushed Stephanie to a breaking point. That was why, when she saw Camille eagerly rushing to meet him, she knew it was time to act. To take matters into her own hands. Following Camille that day had been an attempt to put her in her place and make her understand that no one could come between them. But what she had learned about Terry had changed everything. The revelation had shaken her, leaving her reeling with more questions than answers, and suddenly, her approach felt naïve.

At first, she had a clear plan: blackmail him with the video that so clearly demonstrated his otherworldliness. She would use it as leverage, threatening to expose his secret and shatter his reputation, bending him to her will in the process. It seemed foolproof, until doubt crept in. The more she thought about it, the more she realized she had no real grasp of who he was or what he was capable of. He wasn't just a wealthy and well-connected attorney. He was something else entirely that added a chilling layer of complexity. With his power and resources, he could easily erase her from existence without leaving a trace.

At the office, he was always calm, collected, and polite. A perfect picture of composure. But she had learned enough to know that such flawless self-control could easily mask something far more dangerous. His demeanor might very well be a carefully crafted facade, hiding a cold, calculating demon underneath. 

So, Stephanie turned to her roots, seeking refuge in the power of her Cuban ancestry. It had been years since she had practiced Santería, so she didn’t dare to try to do anything on her own. Stephanie knew she needed the advice of much more seasoned brujas who could tell her how to tame someone so powerful. They knew the supernatural secrets that could bend even the strongest will. Stephanie had always prided herself on being the one in control, the one who got what she wanted, no matter the cost. And that included embracing something far beyond her own understanding. 

Taking a deep breath, Stephanie entered the dimly lit shop with her head held high, her signature arrogance in every step. The walls, lined with eclectic trinkets and dusty shelves, felt beneath her. She sneered inwardly at the ragged curtains and the cobwebs hanging from the cracked ceiling. The thick, pungent scent of burning incense hit her nostrils, making her frown and raise a hand to cover her nose, as if she could ward off the fragrant earthy smoke. The shop was a far cry from the sleek, polished spaces she was accustomed to, but she wasn’t here for aesthetics. She was here for something far greater.

Not to be deterred by the establishment, she continued forward, going straight to the back room that had a single tarot card taped to it: The High Priestess. She didn’t bother to knock, the woman should already be expecting her.

The room was nothing like she expected. Dozens of flickering white candles, their flames dancing in unison, covered every inch of the space except for a narrow path leading to a small, unassuming table in the center. Sitting there was a woman who seemed to be both ageless and elderly. She looked her up and down, nonchalantly, as if Stephanie was unimportant. Stephanie huffed, tossing her hair. Bitch, she inwardly grumbled. The woman cocked an eyebrow in silent acknowledgement, as if she heard the thought.

A sudden slam of the door behind her sent a jolt through Stephanie’s body, and she muffled a startled shriek. The woman only tilted her head slightly, her voice soft but commanding.

“Sit down, mija,” the woman said, her tone almost too light, as if she found Stephanie’s discomfort amusing.

Stephanie hesitated, a flicker of doubt passing through her. Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe she was in over her head. But she shook the thought off instantly. I have to have Terry, she reminded herself, her resolve hardening. By any means necessary.

With slow, deliberate steps, she maneuvered through the maze of candles in her red-bottomed heels. She eased herself into the chair across from the woman, setting her Birkin bag on the table with a haughty flourish, casting the witch a glance that screamed unimpressed. The woman didn’t even blink, rolling her eyes in response, a gesture that only deepened Stephanie’s irritation.

“So…dearest Stephanie,” the woman began, her voice both silky and sharp. “Our mutual connection told me you’re seeking the devotion of a supernatural being, un vampiro? Is that correct?”

Stephanie nodded, her lips curling into a cunning smile. “He’s everything I’ve ever wanted and more,” she purred. “I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make him mine. Name your price.” She reached into her bag, pulling out a thick stack of cash with a dramatic flair, slamming it on the table between them.

The witch’s lips twitched upward, but she didn’t pick up the money. Instead, she stared at it as though it were as simple as a dollar bill. “To give you a fair estimate of what this will require,” she said, her voice as smooth as honey, “I need to know what kind of man he is. Can you give me a description of him?”

Stephanie grinned darkly. “I can do you one better.” She chuckled to herself, her fingers flying across her phone screen as she dug through her photo gallery. She found the video she was looking for. Terry, feeding from Camille, the raw, primal nature of it making her shiver. She slid the phone across the table, the screen illuminating the witch’s face.

The woman didn’t touch it. She simply peered down at the video, an impressed glint in her eye. “Ahhh,” she murmured, “So you want to claim one of the highest in the vampire world.”

Stephanie’s eyes narrowed. “You know Terry?” she asked.

The woman looked up from the phone, her eyes locking onto Stephanie’s. “Is that what he calls himself now? I come from a time where he was known as Isaac. I understand the attraction. He’s quite handsome and his connections and wealth were far-reaching when I first came across him. I can only imagine what they are like now.”

Stephanie’s heart fluttered at the thought of Terry at her feet, bound by whatever spell this woman could cast. She imagined a life of opulent shopping sprees, private jets to Aspen, Dubai, and the Maldives, every whim catered to. Her smile widened, lips curving in a predatory smirk as she pulled her phone back into her hands.

“So, are your services good enough to get me Terry?” she asked, her tone dripping with challenge. The woman let out a breathy laugh, her amusement ringing through the space like the toll of a bell. “Of course, mija. I’m the best at what I do.”

Stephanie’s gaze flickered briefly to the shabby surroundings, the flickering candlelight casting dancing shadows on the cracked walls. Then why do you work out of such a raggedy store, Stephanie thought. The woman’s laughter ended abruptly. Fuck, I forget she can hear thoughts. 

The witch’s eyes flashed with a cold knowing. “But,” the woman continued, her voice returning to its unnervingly calm cadence, “Let’s not focus on my skills. Let’s focus on closing this arrangement. You’ll get the powerful assistance you desire, and I’ll get the money I’m owed. Do you have everything you were supposed to bring?”

Stephanie reached into her bag, placing them on the table. A small vial that held her feminine juices. A jar of honey she had spit in. And one of Terry’s hairs that she had found in his office. The woman nodded, pulling the items close to her. “Now we just need one more thing,” she stated, pulling out a sewing needle. Stephanie eyed it curiously. The woman gestured for her hand. Stephanie reluctantly placed her right hand in the woman's palm. With quick precision, the woman stuck her, a droplet of blood pooling at the tip of her ring finger. She brought a dish under her hand, squeezing the finger until several drops hit the dish’s center. 

“Now this’ll take time, at least several days. This man…he also dabbles in the dark arts and keeps himself well-protected. I will have to maneuver around the rootwork he has established. Because of that, it’ll be $20,000, and I’ll need half up front.”

Stephanie’s eye twitched as she carefully counted out ten thousand dollars, the stacks heavy in her palm before she slid them across the table. Her fingers lingered on the edge of the money for just a moment before she pushed it forward. “Pleasure doing business with you,” she said as she stood from her seat. The transaction was done, and now all she had to do was wait.

But just as she turned to leave, the woman’s voice stopped her in her tracks. “Before you go, I must warn you. This love spell will be extremely powerful. It should be handled with utmost care because the consequences could be dire. If consumed by the wrong person, they could become violent—”

Stephanie’s mind began to drift, her focus fading with each word. Her gaze wandered absently around the room, the words a blur as she tuned out the endless lecture. She didn’t need a lecture on the consequences of magic; she came for one thing and one thing only: to secure the perfect, tall, dark, and impossibly handsome man.

She envisioned it already. A life of unparalleled luxury and a doting, well-endowed husband who would spoil her in every possible way. Camille, Mr. Grant, all the little nuisances that stood between her and Terry, they meant nothing now. Once Terry was under her spell, not a single inconvenience stood a chance.

a/n: imma be honest, pt. six might be a little late next week because I'm in the middle of midterms😃 But! I might drop 2 parts the following week😌💅🏾

------------------

@nayaesworld @slvt4her @writingsbytee @notapradagurl7 @23jammy @kaylaahisthebestest- @theogbadbitch @wabi-sabi1090 @hotgyalaroad @nubiagurllll @lovedlover @dimepiece09 @lavaniiii @simplyzeeka @susanhill @next-bex-bet @sparklytemi @sonotlauryn @ranikyani @loveschrisbrown20 @daddyslittlevillain @blackchickinthedesert @sparklytemi @sonotlauryn @hello-therree @solunaseira @hotebonynearby @key05marie @moebuttta @winorlosetogether @nohatingpplbczhtingpplr @alexinmotion @queencb2462 @kismet83

[rawflwrs]

Can you pls write some more about terry ?

▐ sugardaddy!terryrichmond ୫ camgirl!reader

summary: after a long day of spending daddy’s money, you both decide to end the night giving your viewers a show.

writer’s notes: I tried my best with this, although it was rushed, so it’s definitely not my best work. I apologise if you don’t like it! I’ve just been busy with assignments, so I’ve been distracted. I also added visuals this time, so let me know if you guys enjoy them and want me to add them in future smut fics. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy and don’t forget to like, comment & reblog </3 !!

warnings: explicit language, begging, pet names (daddy, princess, etc) overstimulation, dacryphilia, clit slapping, bimbofication, finger sucking, choking, spanking, age gap relationship and praising — bratty!sub!reader & dom!terry

tags: @luvrsluxe @gardenof-venus @theogbadbitch @fairygoround @nayaesworld @catxo @withoutmusiclifewouldbflat @kenshisluvrgirl @bigjuiciisushii @todorokishoe24 @notapradagurl7 @writingsbytee

Terry knew you were high maintenance before he met you. The way your bedroom lit a soft shade of baby pink with gold and cheetah print accessories surrounding you, your nails and toes always freshly done, either in a sparkly baby pink or a basic french tip: you made sure you were put together. After all, all you did was dress up like a doll and men paid to witness it.

It was one of the few things Terry noticed about you. He never intended to come across you as he believed that watching porn or anything remotely related, wasn’t of any benefit to him, knowing that if he had any sexual needs, there were always a list of women who would be at his beck and call.

But before he knew it, Terry became one of your top contributors, starting off by sending you five thousand dollars in the first stream he joined and progressively adding another ten thousand for every stream after, just to hear you thank him as you pressed your toys into your glistening pink hole.

Terry loved the idea of spoiling a pretty girl like you, hearing your giggles as you repeatedly thanked him for sending you so many gifts or when you joked that you needed to see him in person to thank him properly: he knew that he needed you. When you had announced you were going to do private calls for your top contributors, Terry made sure he was number one on that list.

You were nervous. It was obvious that the person named ‘@/treatsfromterry’ was clearly obessessed with you and although you liked the idea of someone being so desperate for your attention that they would spend what felt like their lifesavings on you, you were also terrified that he would be some old creep.

You were so wrong. When a muscular caramel toned man, wearing thin rimmed glasses and a short sleeve black wife-beater popped onto your zoom call screen, you couldn’t believe your eyes. He was beautiful. You felt your mouth drop open slightly at the sight as his deep chuckle filled your ears. “You okay there, beautiful?” He questioned, fixing his camera position to ensure you can see him clearly. “Mhm” you trailed off, eyes lowering to his biceps. They were so big and soft: you wanted a bite.

“I need to hear you use your words, princess.” He sighed out, feeling himself harden at the sight of you wearing the lingerie he asked you to wear for this special occasion. “I’m fine, daddy. I just didn’t expect you to look so good.” You giggle, remembering that he asked you to only call him daddy. The name definitely fit the view you were seeing. “Thank you, baby. I appreciate you wearing that for me.” He smiled, motioning towards your lingerie.

You smiled. “I mean you spoil me so much, it’s the least I could do. Do I look pretty?” You moved closer to your laptop camera, purposely angling it to face your breasts as you slowly message them, circling your brown areole’s. “So fucking pretty, princess.” He groaned, the ache in his pants getting worse. You smiled, leaning back before thanking him again. “Is there anything specific you want me to do for you, daddy?” You asked.

Initially, Terry thought about asking you to masterbate on the call to watch you moan his name, but he realised that it would be better to see that in person. “No, I just want to ask you one question.” He leaned forward to look directly in your eyes. “Oh? Go ahead, but I’m just letting you know that if I feel uncomfortable, I won’t hesitate to block you.” You said softly, attempting to set your boundaries as clearly as possible.

“I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable, princess. Tell me if I’m going too far, okay?” He assured you while you simply nodded.

“Outside of this-” he started, gesturing towards the camera, insinuating that he was referring to you being a cam girl. “What is your goal? What job do you aspire to have?” He questioned and it caught you off guard. It’s not usual that one of your viewers even care to ask about how your day was, never mind what your aspirations are. “I want to be rich.” You answered, earning a deep chuckle from him. “What?! I’m serious. I don’t aspire to work. I just want to make money and be happy.” You said truthfully. He found your answer fascinating because it wasn’t one he was used to hearing.

“What if I can be the one to make you rich and happy?” He asked, his tongue swiping across his bottom lip, patiently waiting for your response. “Wh-what do you mean?” You questioned, feeling your body warming up from the tension. Although, he was miles away from you, he made his presence very known. “I’m an investor. I like to invest into businesses I know will be profitable and successful for me-” He started, before you cut him off, “you invest into people too?” You asked. “Not people. . . Just you.” He adjusted his glasses.

“I want you to be my sugar baby.” The comment had you puzzled. It wasn’t like people had never asked you to be their sugar baby, but it wasn’t normal for someone of his calibre to openly ask. “That means I get to spoil you and all I ask for in return is your time and attention.” He continued. You were still silent, debating on whether it would be a good idea as you only started your cam girl services to fund for your college tuition fees, not because you wanted to have close ties to the lifestyle long term. “You can continue your streaming services if you think that’s something I wouldn’t want you doing anymore. I just want you. I want to feel you and be close to you. That’s all I ask for, sweetheart.” He said as you thought deeply about the advantages of being a sugar baby.

“How do I know you’re really rich? You could just be lying to me to get me to meet you.” You pestered. He laughed before pulling out his phone, tapping a few buttons and showing you the amount of money he had in his bank account. You audibly gasped which caused him to laugh harder at the thought of you questioning his wealth. “Does that answer your question?” He asked. “I’ll do it. I’ll be your sugar baby.” You replied almost immediately. “Good girl.” He smiled once more. And with that, your relationship with Terry began.

Who would’ve thought that a year later, you would be walking around Chanel with a 6 ft 3 man, spending his money on whatever you touched. I mean, you had been in the store for less than hour and he already spent over twenty thousand dollars. Terry sat in the corner of the store, tapping away at his phone to handle some business dealings while keeping a close eye on you, knowing you get lost when you’re not in the right mind. “Daddy, come look at this.” You asked softly as he held one finger at you to tell you to wait a moment. “Just give me a minute, sweetheart.” He replied.

You hated when he wasn’t paying attention to you, especially because you knew that whatever he was looking at wasn’t more important than you. “Why do I even bother.” You pouted, grabbing your bags and attempting to leave the store without a second thought. Terry immediately followed after you and paused your movements, noticing your demeanour shift. “I’m here, princess. I’m sorry, you know how work is right now.” He grabbed your chin for you to look up at him. “You said you wanted my time and attention, whole time, you’re too busy on your stupid fucking phone!” You barked back, attempting to walk away before feeling your arm get yanked back.

“Who the fuck you talking to like that? I’ll fuck you up in front of everybody.” He started. “Tread lightly. This bratty attitude ain’t cutting it for me.” He warned. Yes, Terry was a sweet man who was never aggressive with you unless you asked him to be, he still would never tolerate disrespect and recently you’ve been having more bratty outbursts than usual. At first, he thought you were simply hormonal, but as it became consistently worse, he became more agitated that you thought your behaviour was acceptable. “Whatever.” You storm back into the store, ignoring glares from the workers and continue your shopping.

It wasn’t long before you were laying across Terry’s lap on your stomach with your camera angled just so your viewers can see his chest, but not his face as he spanked you in the room he dedicated in his house as your filming room, covered in Sanrio themed accessories after you told him you loved them. “You can take it, princess.” He spanked your plush ass again, watching it slowly bruise up as the live gained more traction with people sending more gifts and reactions. “M’ sor-so sorry, daddy! Please!” You pleaded, feeling yourself start to lose your vision as you stained your cheeks with wet hot tears.

“But you look so pretty like this, mama. Don’t y’all agree?” He questioned, almost taunting the viewers as he landed another harsh slap. Your live stream was gaining more views by the minute, but all you could think about was how much you needed his touch. “Pl-pleasee, daddy. Touch me- I want it so bad.” You cried out. “I nee-ed you.” You breathed out. “That’s all you had to say, princess.” He lifted you to straddle him, facing you towards the camera as he spread your legs open for them to see. “Look at how wet you are.” He slapped your clit harshly, causing you to yelp and jump forward from the impact.

You covered your mouth with your hand as he continued to slap your clit four more times, chuckling after each slap. “Dadd-ah pleasee!” You squealed, knowing your body was giving up on you. Terry used his left hand to grab you by your throat, applying a little bit of pressure to assert dominance. “You know I don’t like brats. Why do you keep playing with me?” He whispered in your ear, rubbing your clit in a circular motion, slowly. “M’ sor-” you were cut off by him applying more pressure to your throat. “You’re sorry? Were you sorry when you embarrassed me today?” He questioned, his grip on your throat getting tighter as he fastened the pace of rubbing your clit.

You couldn’t even respond due to the pressure he had on your throat. Terry moved his left hand up into your mouth as you attempted to catch a breath. He stuck his two fingers in your mouth, watching you suck them softly. He almost forgot you were on your live stream until he heard a ping from your computer which indicated you had reached over fifty thousand viewers: a new milestone. “People like seeing me use you, princess. Should we do this more often?” He asked, pushing his fingers further down your throat while you simply nodded.

He pulled his fingers out your mouth, watching closely as a string of your saliva creeped out. You coughed at the feeling of your airways being free. “You’re my filthy little slut. Aren’t you, angel?” He teased, using both of his hands to rub your clit aggressively. You gripped onto his biceps, your face contorting from the mixed pleasure that you were receiving. Your pussy ached from the heat and you felt yourself losing consciousness. “Aww, you gonna pass out on daddy? But I’m only just getting started, baby.” He cooed. “You can take it.” He bit your shoulder.

The lewd sounds of your pussy squelching, your inconsistent moans and your sweat dripping from all parts of your body made viewers wish they were Terry right now. It was fucking disgusting. You practically losing yourself and he hadn’t even fucked you yet? You were pathetic. He slowed down his pace when he saw you squirting and your juices nearly hitting your laptop camera: truly cinematic.

He groaned at the feeling of his cock aching just from the sight. Terry knew when you started squirting like this, you weren’t far from cumming. “You close, bunny?” He teased as your legs trembled in response. “M’ c-close, pa!” You squirmed, closing your eyes shut while he rubbed you gently, still ensuring his touch was firm. You felt yourself slipping away into your own headspace as you knew you would cum any moment now. That was until, he moved his hands away from you, earning a loud whine.

“You think I’d let you cum after how you acted today? Nah, get on all fours.” He pushed you off him, causing you to fall to the ground. Your legs were still wobbly, but you knew better than to argue with him. After all, it was your mouth that got you in this position in the first place. You sat up on the bed, getting into his preferred position. “Stretch that ass out.” He ordered, watching you spread your ass hole open, ready for him to stuff your ass, whole.

You knew you were in for a long night.

[simplyzeeka]

Episode.3 Season.1

Absolutely Astronomical

Trying to love

Wanna be free

So, God, tell me please

Is it in the stars

Warnings: MDNI!! Profanity, adult themes, themes of infidelity, grinding, mutual pining. Just... stars.

Summary: Some mistakes are unsolicited, but definitely preventable. But Syrae and Terry never really had the kind of control, have they?

A/N: Please excuse any errors. Not proofread. Enjoy!! Anything in italics is a flashback

Previously on Something Seasonal

Rainy weather was always Terry's favourite time to decompress. He would usually just whip up a hot meal and enjoy it in front of a good mystery movie, or just paint something abstract on a fresh canvas, a new interest of his.

But sometimes, especially since meeting Amber, his ways of decompressing have changed… drastically. If he wasn't balls deep inside of her, best believe he worshipped what lied between the thick of her thighs with his face. Or sometimes, quality time was more than enough, even with non-sexual affection.

That was his plan after a long, exhausting day at work. The sudden cold weather had his body chilled, he wanted nothing more than to warm up with his wife.

Amber, a woman of bewitching beauty. Deep brown skin that glistened especially in the sun, a body so alluring that curved and rolled in every way he liked. Terry always believed he was lucky, because as beautiful as she was on the inside, her morals and values reciprocated with her external beauty.

She laid in a bathtub filled with foam and smelt of lavender. Candles lit on the side with a glass of wine in her hand. Terry almost didn't want to interrupt, but it's been a while since they spent time together since their short honeymoon.

“Baby.” Terry called out to her, softly as he walked towards the bathtub. He crouched down, his face close to hers. The faint of jazz music could be heard along with the pattering of raindrops on the windows.

“Hey lovey, didn't hear you come in. You okay?” Amber frowned, her moist thumb rubbed against the middle of his forehead, where his eyebrows dipped in a frown. “Tough day?”

Terry hummed, “Hmm, nah not really.” A simple answer, short and curt but Amber knew there was more to his sour mood. “Is this about Mike's birthday?” She asked softly, not wanting to add tension.

Terry's late cousin, Mike's, birthday was coming soon. His death still cause tremor in Terry's heart, despite it being years ago. While he tried to forget of everything that came with Mike’s death and Shelby Springs, that year will forever live in him rent free.

Terry simply nodded his head, exhaling a loud breath while his fingers thread through her braids and graze across her scalp. “Yeah, I’ma be okay though. Don't worry ‘bout me baby. How was your day?”

Amber smiled somberly, he wasn't okay but she wouldn't push him to talk about it. Amber got out of the tub, dried her body, and wrapped her body up with a robe. “It was… something. I have to leave for Singapore in a few days.”

“You have to go alone? I can pack up and leave with y-” Terry began before Amber interrupted him with a laugh.

“No baby, that's okay. You need to stay here and work, business seem to be booming lately.” She suggested before standing on the tip of her toes, leaving a amorous kiss on his lips.

Terry exhaled in rejection, scratched the back of his neck before he followed her to their bedroom. “Guess I'll have to cancel game night with the guys.”

“Uh-Uh. There is no need to do that lovey. Just get someone else to go with you.”

Terry lost concentration for a bit, watching her as she smeared lotion on the smooth of her legs, the robe slipped off her shoulder revealing precise ink work across her collarbone.

“Yeah, but I wanted my woman to go with me. I missed you, baby. Shit, I still do.”

Amber rolled her eyes playfully with a knowing smile. Terry had always been an affectionate person, despite his broody demeanour and the way he always seemed to be mean-mugging people, he had not once hid his affections from Amber. It made her heart soar time and time again.

“I know, and I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you when I get back.” She whispered, taking slow and calculated steps towards him. “But right now… I kinda want you to put me to sleep.”

Terry bit his bottom lip at that, his eyes glistened with a shine that Amber always brought to him. “Shit, don't gotta tell me twice, girl. Come here.”

Terry ended up going to the game night alone, and unfortunately for him, he was stuck as a third wheel. Rome cancelled at the last minute, so it was just him, Yosohn and his girlfriend, Isla.

The three opted for something simple, and while Terry was bored out of his mind, bowling seemed to keep him from mugging Yosohn and his girl from their excessive PDA.

He missed Amber, it's been two days since she left for Singapore and he already felt screws loosening in his head. “We about to play or not?” He snapped at the couple, causing infectious giggles to spur from Isla's chest as she detached her lips from Yosohn's.

“Damn let's get started ‘fore this man throw a ball at us.” Yosohn joked, which only fueled the shorter woman's laughter. Terry smacked his lips as they all got started on the game.

The games were tense as Terry and Yosohn played against one another. The bowling rank was full now, almost every single alley was taken with players. Terry was beginning to get a little overstimulated by the few drinks, loud music, the flashing of bright neon led lights and the game.

In dire need of a break, Terry called recess and went to the bathroom to recharge. The bathroom was minimalistic, rather boring. But hey, it was just a bathroom and the bowling alley was quite an old establishment.

He appreciated the soft scent of bleach and soap, the mirrors were spotless and the floors squeaked with every step he took. Terry stood by the sinks, watching his reflection in the mirror before splashing cold water on his face to get him out of his funk. Usually by now, he would have told Amber that his social battery was running low and he just wanted to lay up under her for the rest of the night. But she wasn't here with him, and going home was not an option for Terry because she wasn't there either.

Reluctant to rejoin the couple, Terry slowly stepped out of the bathroom, eyes on the ground before a nostalgic fragrance of jasmine and honey, and maybe a small hint of… he couldn't really put his finger on the last scent, it didn't matter though, because what brought a smile to his face was an all too familiar person seemed to be in his presence, for the first time in weeks.

“Syrae?”

Terry did opt for finding out, would be hard not to when she enticed him in the way that she did. Must have been that stripper shit she learned at the club.

“I'm telling you, I would've made an amazing politician.” Terry laughs, staring at the dark-skinned beauty with a smile from across the table of a cheap, local diner.

Stark colours of red, yellow and orange painted the walls, tables and booths as Syrae sipped on her vanilla Milkshake. “I just don't see it. You look like you don't got the time for bullshit.” Syrae shrugged her shoulders.

“I don't, but I love being dependable and inventive. And politics seems to be the perfect place to do that. ‘Specially with how shit be going down here.”

He seemed ambitious, versatile too. Syrae loved that about anyone, but knowing that Terry was all this made it harder for her to keep her wandering thoughts at bay. “Hmm, somethin’ tell me owning a workshop wasn't in your books?”

A steady observation, Terry didn't talk about his shop like he spoke about his past ventures. The light in his eyes seemed to dim only slightly and Syrae was not sure if it was the journey to how he got here… or the destination that had him frustrated.

“That somethin’ might be right.”

Syrae hummed at his short response, she could read a room, but Terry did not seem to want to be read at the moment. Perhaps they could leave that for another time.

“Well I know how that feels.” Syrae sighed before she raised her half-empty glass. “What's life without a little fuck ups?”

Terry laughed at that, appreciating the deflection a little like she appreciated the sound of her melodic voice, or the sight of her smile. “Not a damn thing, Indigo.”

“Syrae.’ she interrupted with a small scrunch of her nose. “My real name’s Syrae.”

It suited her, much more than the name Indigo and it seemed to piece her together. “Hmm, nice to meet you. Syrae.”

“I'm sure it is.” and so the banter continues.

“Terry, I'm convinced you followin’ me now.” The shorter woman crossed her arms over her chest. She had jeans that fit just right, before flaring wide below her knees. A sage green dress, which stopped mid-thigh and was decorated with some glitter. There was a knot tied around her neck from the dress, covered by the jacket draped over her shoulder.

It was a simple outfit, so so simple. But Terry couldn't seem to understand why he felt butterflies breaking pit of their cacoons at the way she looked. Maybe it was the glasses on her face, he always had a thing for women in glasses. Or maybe the soft of her features, plush lips, thick brows. Fuck, it could've been the accent, one that did nothing to soothe the resolute thumping of his heart.

“Cockiness gets you nowhere Rae.” Syrae rolled her eyes at that, although her heart galloped at the nickname. Since finding out her real name, he has been calling her that freely and she would not be one to stop him, it sounded good coming from him.

“But nah, I'm kinda stuck third-wheeling my friends.”

Syrae winced, “Same here, actually.”

“But wait I got a reason to be alone, you don't. Where your lady at?” She asked curiously, although the mention of Terry's wife felt like a small slice to her gums, a feeling she quickly blinked away.

“Went away for work, Singapore.” Terry answered proudly. Amber was such a hard worker and she deserved every single petal on the flowers she received. “Who got you third-wheeling though?”

“My friend, Broisa and her… partner?” Syrae hesitated, not even sure if Gage was Broisa's boyfriend. Terry picked up the hesitation and laughed in understanding.

For a while he stood silent, eyes darting from her face to the floor then back to her face. Something about her features made it too hard for Terry to stare too long, yet it seemed like his brain pined for another look at her. Syrae had her natural hair out this time, perfectly coiled in a way that they bounced everytime she moved. Terry couldn't help but wonder just how long she spent on her hair every day. Was it hours and hours on end, or had she gotten so used to the routine it was sort of a habit to her? Did she need help? What products did she use?

“Well, you could join me… and my friends.” He began, pointing behind him, where Yosohn and Isla stood. “If you want.”

Syrae raised a brow, took a peak around Terry at his friends in question. “Hmm, if I want…” A mumbled retort. Syrae couldn't find a reason to decline, a reason she was so desperate to find because being near Terry just felt like torture at times. The man was naturally intense, and even without trying, everything he did was just inherently seductive, it made her want to lose all sense of her morale and give into whatever the stupid dragonflies in her stomach told her.

“That don't sound like too bad of an idea, I just gotta let me friend know though.” She explained, eyes trailing back to Terry's.

“You do what you gotta do, I'll be right over there.” Syrae nodded at his response, turned slowly and walked to where Broisa and Gage sat lip-locked, engaged deeply in each other than getting their money's worth.

Syrae walked meticulously to Terry's booth, an extra set of footsteps rushing behind her, wanting to so desperately know what the man who constantly occupied Syrae’s mind and conversation looked like.

So it happened that Broisa couldn't keep her mouth shut and yapped away Syrae's business to Gage. Now Gage was into Syrae’s tea and just as invested as the woman at his side. Syrae warned them both to not do anything that would compromise her's and Terry's friendship, or put them in an uncomfortable position.

“Hey, Terry. I'm back.” She announced. She noticed how the other two turned to her with brows raised and backs straightened. They were alert, something she couldn't necessarily fault as she was a random person to them, one who came with two more people towing behind her, and Broisa and Gage didn't look like the friendliest batch of people.

“My friends decided to come along, hope y'all don't mind an extra triplet.” She smiled nervously, watching as Gage protectively stared down the other three which were seated. “Yeah, hope y'all don't mind.” Gage couldn't stop himself from repeating, trying to seem intimidating.

Syrae couldn't help but to slightly roll her eyes, being used to Gage's antics by now, she knew it was only a matter of time until he started some shit like this, which she found hilarious because he was much smaller than the two.men he was trying to intimidate.

While Yosohn was a little lanky, he had Gage beat by height. Terry… well, Everything about Terry was big, surely a man that size should be able to knock some sense into people?

“Gage, hush.” Broisa reprimanded him, before smiling over at Terry, a little bunch of constellations in her eyes as she began to understand perfectly well why he insisted on his career at being an eight-track athlete in Syrae's head. “We hope we're not intrudin’?” Broisa continued, her smile getting a little too wide to keep at bay.

“Don't worry bout it. Isla, Sohn. This is Syrae, Broisa and… Gage?” Terry introduced before he turned to Syrae. “This Yosohn and his girlfriend, Isla.”

It was only then that Yosohn's eyes widen slightly in realisation. He connected Syrae to the club after a while. Yosohn has never seen Syrae up close, only ever seen her on stage, he hasn't really gotten the opportunity to see distinct features. Yet all this was masked by confusion, he didn't understand why Terry would invite Syrae here, a stripper who gave him a private dance. There couldn't be any good that came from this.

“Hey, nice to meet y'all.” Isla smiles, relaxing a bit at knowing that Terry knows them, well one-third at least. Syrae and Broisa return the sentiments, smiling awkwardly as Yosohn and Terry stare Gage down, the smaller man still not backing down.

Terry shook his head, then let out a small chuckle before directing the two women to take a seat in the booth.

After a few drinks, the tension was long forgotten and the group of six laughed at anything and everything. Yosohn had fallen a total of four times trying to throw a bowling ball, and that alone still had Syrae clutching her stomach.

Okay, so maybe they had more than a few drinks. And that meant that Terry and Syrae shared more than a few lingering stares, which luckily, nobody was sober enough to notice… at least they thought.

“I thought games weren't your thing.” Terry begins unsolicited conversation, focused intently on how Syrae swirled her straw in a tall glass of a purple glittery drink. A Nebula Blast she said it was. One fuckery of a drink because just like it's name, she began seeing galaxies in Terry’s eyes. A gazillion of shooting stars just waiting to make her dreams come true.

“They not.” She shrugs, a small smile on her lips before she wrapped her lips around her straw, Terry following the movement intently, inviting him to lick his own. “But free food and drinks are, and I needed this time out.”

“And why's that?.” His eyes didn't move from her mouth, especially not when her tongue peaked to catch the slight residue on her tinted lips. The muscle left a small trail of glitter and her full lips couldn't have looked any more enticing.

“I just wrote my last exam, and submitted my assignment. Kinda going through college burnout. Needed this real bad.” She lifted her half-full glass, the alcohol having already been too much for her that it forced her to sip much slower. How much Vodka did they put in this?

“Hmm, bet you did. You nervous ‘bout results?” Terry asked, taking a swing of his own rum and coke, a bad idea for someone as lightweight as Terry.

Syrae shook her head slowly, “Not really. I worked my ass off for these exams. But I'm still a little shaky… don't know ‘bout nervous though.”

Syrae yapped away about each exam she wrote, the difficulty of each and how she felt after writing. Terry listened, nodding along with a few interjections here and there.

It wasn't long until the other four felt a little bored at the bowling alley. Broisa wanted to go somewhere a little less… family friendly so she could get wasted and act accordingly with no children around.

Claiming that there was a nightclub not too far from the bowling alley, Broisa convinced everyone else to walk together instead of catching different rides to a place that's less than thirty minutes away.

Syrae was thankful of the recommendation, after downing the rest of the toxic drink, she had started feeling a little dizzy, and the cool night breezes did enough to calm her down and gather her breathing, temporarily ceasing the churning in her stomach.

But she was extra conscious of the fact that Terry was right next to her as they walked down the sidewalk, the other four goofing off further away in front of them. They managed to hold conversation, as always, a little sprinkle of banter did just the job in being confused as flirtation in Syrae's drunken state.

She kept up though, barely crossing another line. They were merely grazing it out of anticipation. By the time they made it to the club, Syrae had calmed down a tad bit. Terry, on the other hand, was still feeling the effects of the three glasses of rum, because now floating notes of music morphed into bright orange monarchs. They fluttered and diffused into his stomach, creating a surge of warmth when he felt the cool skin of her back as he led her through the entrance of the club.

It was loud, so loud that Terry and Syrae were beginning to question if they should have agreed on coming here. Broisa immediately enjoyed the vibe and hopped to the dance floor with Gage. Syrae and Terry followed Yosohn and Isla to the bar.

Syrae orders a water for Terry and herself, makes him drink as she remembered that he couldn't hold his liquor. Consciously, Syrae knew that a night out with Terry while being inebriated couldn't have been a good idea. Being out with Terry in such a casual setting, a comfortable one at that, was a bad idea in general.

It didn't take long for everything to catch up with Syrae, and then suddenly her need for fresh air was too palpable to be ignored. She excuses herself from the three friends, claiming she was just going outside for a while.

Now stood against a wall at the back of her nightclub. An unlit blunt in one hand and a hot pink lighter in the other. She stared at the ground mindlessly, periodically flicking her lighter. Maybe she should just cut off this budding friendship with Terry, there was no way he didn't feel how she did, which made it worse because…Terry was married. Fuck he was married and the thought along brought a pissing migraine to her head.

The music echoes perfectly from the club, only mere vibrations could be below her feet, which was long ridden of her heels. They sat comfortable on the floor next to her feet. Syrae exhaled loudly before placing the tip of her blunt in her lips before lifting her hands on the other end, flicking the spark wheel a number of times waiting for a flame.

Until the sudden sound of the back door opening suddenly, then out came a Terrence Richmond with his natural mean mug on his face. Syrae straightened off the wall abruptly, whipping the blunt off her lips. “Fuck, Terry. What the hell?” She muttered, exhaling a sigh of relief.

“You were out here for too long, thought somebody took you.” He explained, stepping a few steps to close, she could tell by how the hint of old wood and cocoa butter invaded her nose. “I'm good, Soldier.” She laughed softly, putting the blunt back in her bag.

Terry merely hummed. He got a few more drinks, in an attempt to wash away the thoughts of Syrae and all the feelings she brought. She weighed on his head heavily and intoxicatingly. Kind of like the alcohol did. “Wanted to see that for myself.”

Syrae hummed, looking up at his eyes. She shouldn't have, but she did, and now she couldn't look away. She couldn't help her wandering eyes. How they traced the intentional streaks of each contour on his face, the thickness of his neck, broad shoulders, one's she'd always thought would be a perfect place for her legs. Thighs or calves, it didn't matter.

He was wearing a black turtleneck, one that hugged his body in ways that had Syrae imagining raking her nails across his skin. His jeans were a bit loose, but when he sat or flexed just enough, the thickness of his thighs could not be hidden from the stretch.

“Why you got your shoes off? There's broken bottles down here, Rae.” Terry frowned at that realisation. Instinctively, he stepped even closer. Terry crouched on his feet and tapped three fingers on one of Syrae's ankles, coaxing her to lift her foot. “Terry, my feet fine. Ain't no need to do-” She was interrupted by a sigh.

Terry looked up from his crouched position, fingers just barely grazing the smooth skin above her ankle. His face remained neutral, as if he were telling her he wasn't taking no for an answer. Syrae let out a sigh of her own, her shoulders sagged and she lulled her head to the side before raising her foot.

Terry lifted it slightly higher, causing her to push the middle of her dress downward, as to not expose herself. He gently inspected the underside of her foot, swiping away the small rocks and pebbles indented in her heels.

He does the same for the other foot, however this time, it was much slower, much more intentional. That much was obvious by how Terry kept his slightly hooded eyes on her eyes, while massaging away at her heels. “Terry.” Syrae warned softly, her lips feeling a bit more dry than earlier and suddenly, she saw small dots of sparkly gas floating around her.

“Hmm?” He wasn't listening. His hand travelled lightly up her legs as did his gaze. He slowly raised from his crouched position the moment. Syrae's leg rested on his hip as his large hand held her leg up. “Terry.”

Syrae attempted at warning again, this time a little louder. Her hand reached for his, attempting to push it away from her burning skin, yet her fingers worked their way underneath the hem of his sleeves. Stiletto nails grazing his skin when Terry stepped further between her legs. “Syrae.”

She held in a whimper, the other hand that rested on his shoulder was supposed to push his body away, instead, it gripped at the defined muscle and slowly travelled to the curve of his neck. “Terrence Richmond.” Syrae moaned, in sheer desperation, because at least one of them had to have control, and surely wouldn't be Syrae. “I'm here.” He retorted, their faces so close he can taste the glitter and stars from the Nebula Blast on her breath. He just needed to kiss her, one kiss. Then he would see a supernova.

She shook her head, their noses budging at the movement. “Uh uh. We not ‘sposed to be doin’ this, Terry.” She whispered against his lips. Terry only nodded his head, managed to hold off from swallowing her gasp when she felt his obvious excitement against her ruined panties.

“You stoppin’ me?” A question that held so much power, because was she stopping him? Did she have the willpower to stop any of this? Syrae began questioning herself, trying to find resolute… until Terry angled his hips so perfectly, then ground them right against Syrae's pooling heat. Her mouth fell open and her eyebrows pinched between her forehead. “Hmm, baby? You gonna stop this?”

She should, she really really should. Because Terry could fuck her life all the way up, he already was and he's barely done anything. “Fuhh.” Her words fell short when she felt his pulsating bulge grind mind-numbing flutters to her swelling bud. “Hmm, look at m- Syrae. Look at me. You gon’ st-”

He was talking too much. Syrae held the back of his neck and pulled his lips onto his. And fuck if her heartbeat didn't go calm. She felt herself sag against him.

It took a while for them to register their affection. But when Terry reeled in, he kissed back, their heads moving leisurely in opposite directions as their minds took the lead. Syrae heard pops in her ears, mostly from the abuse of pressure Terry offered between her legs.

His hips moved so slowly, it's as if he was trying to serenade a confession of love from her heart straight through her body and out her pussy with her drowning essence. And she would tell him a million times, how it was his.

Terry moans against the kiss, the monarchs in his stomach cease the fluttering, as did the dragonflies in Syrae's. As if they've kissed noses, called a truce. Everything felt like an end of soul searching, like the two haven't reached true content in life until that very moment.

Syrae felt familiar and foreign all at once. But above all else, she felt like serenity. The kiss brought nothing but tranquillity and a surge of need. Terry wasn't sure if he particularly enjoyed the taste of Nebula Blast and glitter on her lips or the small hint of the cherry candy that Syrae always said she loved. It didn't matter because it was Syrae.

But Terry was wrong about one thing. Syrae's kisses didn't make him see a supernova. They made him see fucking galaxies.

A/N: I did that??? I did that for real? I'm so proud of this part, although it seemed like there's a lot going on, it's my favourite because it highlights a theme I've been wanting to include. If you haven't noticed, it's astronomy! Not the entire concept perse, but it's a lot of stars going on.

There's was a very, very subtle hint at how the story's gonna end in the chapter. It's so miniscule I doubt anyone will notice it lol. This song is what inspired me to write, because I was a little blocked chilee

Taglist:

@blyffe @peachbutterfly-blog @browngirldominion @blackmoonchilee

Comment if you'd like to be tagged. Please like it if you love it, lol. Comments and reblogs are deeply encouraged and appreciated. It's what motivates me to write more.

Next on Something Seasonal

[saturnville]

echoes in the heights, terry richmond | chapter one.

Synopsis: In the quiet town of Riverside Heights, Terry Richmond seeks a fresh start, but his growing connection with the guarded Elara Taylor forces him to confront the past he’s tried to leave behind—and the future he’s afraid to embrace.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!Fem!OC (Elara Taylor)

A/N: Unless you’d like to be removed, you must interact with a reblog and/or comment to keep your spot on the taglist. Enjoy!

Tags: @mauvecherie-writes @saintslewis @vile-harlot @emjayewrites @turn-thy-paige @theglamclosetsl

Starting a new life took work. Shedding the remnants of the past and putting on cloaks on the future, though uncomfortable, was necessary. It was never easy, but it was necessary.

So, he bought an old pickup, packed his belongings, and drove three hours eastward until he reached Riverside Heights. It was a quaint town with about 10,000 people, but it would do. He was satisfied when his eyes landed on the sign as he drove past the threshold. Welcome to Riverside Heights! Most populous Black town in the East. Whatever internal compass guided him led him to the right place.

The same day, he found an apartment owned by an elderly couple looking for another tenant.

They said it was fully furnished and had rent and utilities much under his budget. He quickly signed the dotted line and gratefully presented money for the deposit.

He spent the evening in his new apartment. Although he didn’t have much, he hoped it would eventually become like home. He basked in the warmth of the quaint bedroom and the shower’s heat against his sore body. For the first time in a long time, he slept like a baby that night, and it was needed for the day he had ahead.

There was a job to obtain, and he wouldn’t stop until he found one.

He woke up early the following day before the sunlight hit the bedroom. He said a quick prayer, made his bed, and dropped to the floor to do a few quick exercises before heading to the shower to begin his hygiene routine.

Afterward, he wore a black polo, dark jeans, and his cleanest boots. He glanced in the mirror momentarily. His eyes, usually full of life, were dull and tired. Sure, the color was light, but the sparkle behind them was long gone. Whatever slither of happiness was left died right alongside Mike in that prison cell where his body collapsed. No matter how hard he tried, happiness seemed out of reach, and it was exhausting to chase after it.

He hadn’t realized he was crying until a tear slid down his cheek. He mumbled lowly, wiped his face roughly, and shuffled out the door quickly.

Riverside Heights was a beautiful town full of vibrancy and life. Everyone seemed genuine and kind. Everywhere he turned, he was met with a warm smile and a kind, “How are you, sir?” This was very different from his previous experiences.

Yet, he still felt like an outsider. He was surrounded by people who looked like him, who most likely knew nothing of his past, and who were so kind, yet he was an outsider in a land that shouldn’t be foreign.

But rather than staying in his head, he smiled back, hoping people wouldn’t see the stiffness of it, and said, “Doing well, thank you for asking. Um, I’m new in town, and I’m looking for a job. Do you have any suggestions on where to look?”

Being the kind woman she was, Ms. Willis walked to a community event with him. “You came just in time. They’re having a job fair at the local community center. There are plenty of folks there looking to hire. I hope you find what you need.”

They walked silently for a while, and he took in the beauty of Riverside Heights. The sun beamed on them, warming his skin. Along the road were hundreds of freshly planted flowers and plants. He always liked plants. They were beautiful to him. The grass was freshly cut and irritated his nose, but he let it go to bask in nature.

His eyes followed the fowls in the air as they chirped and danced freely. How beautiful that must have been. The pace of the town was steady. People ran on the sidewalks, children played in the field with their friends, and newborn babies cried as their parents tried to calm them. They were greeted by a few people, some asking about him and his unfamiliar face and others addressing Ms. Willis. Each interaction was unique and lovely. Everyone was so friendly.

Moments later, Ms. Willis spoke up. Her graying eyes squinted as she looked at the young man who towered over her. “Why Riverside Heights? Most folks that are here were born here. We don’t get folks coming in from the outside too often.”

The question he dreaded had come to haunt him. He sighed and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “It’s a long story,” he gave a rueful chuckle. He tore his eyes away from hers. He

couldn’t look her in the eye. He swallowed the growing lump in his throat and shrugged. “Just needed a new start, away from what I knew before. Was driving for a few hours, saw the sign, and decided to try it.”

Just as his grandmother would do, she crossed her hands over one another and nodded, drawing out a long mhm as she did so. “You’ll have to tell me that story. Maybe over some dinner and a good peach cobbler. I’m sure you don’t have food in that stomach of yours.” She tapped his belly, and he smiled bashfully and rubbed the back of his neck. “And regardless of the reason, my boy, I am glad you’re here.”

“Thank you, Ms. Willis,” he said gratefully, accepting the hand squeeze she gave. They engaged in more small talk before they arrived at the community center. Before he walked in, she grabbed his arm and caressed it lovingly, “You got my number now, so I expect your call cause dinner is at 6. I’ll see you tonight.”

With a soft “Yes, ma’am” and a smile, he retreated and headed toward the community center. People were packed like sardines in the center, looking for jobs. He considered himself one of the lucky ones. There, within thirty minutes, he found a job. It was nothing crazy, but it was stable. It was normal. It was what he needed.

“Construction, aye?” He lifted his eyes from the documents he was given and saw a dark-eyed, dark-haired man, maybe around his age, with his hands in his pocket. “Been needing some more workers out here. I look forward to working with you.”

Naturally, he stuck his hand out, “Terry Richmond. Nice to meet you, man.” The man, Terry learned, was Jackson, the son of Ms. Willis. He worked at the construction company as a project manager and insisted they’d spend a lot of time together.

Terry was hesitant at first, but it was what he needed. Maybe, in due time, he wouldn’t feel like an outsider but rather a member of Riverside Heights.

At least, so he hoped.

-

After dinner at Ms. Willis’, Terry settled into his apartment. He placed the leftovers in the fridge and the groceries he picked up on the way back. It was a weird feeling to move and settle into what would be a new life. There was pressure, a lot of it.

To not screw up, to keep his head down, and stay focused. To ensure that this life would be better than the previous one.

It was what he wanted. It was what he deserved. So, rather than sulking over what was, he tried to focus on the present and do what ordinary people do when they move—eat ice cream and watch trashy movies on television. It wasn’t much, and he didn’t know if it would help, but he was more than willing to try. He had no choice.

-

Two days later, he started work. He was ready to start, dressed in a logoed short-sleeved shirt, thick cargo pants, and work boots.

He did not have a busy workday. Although orientation took all day, he had leftovers from dinner with Ms. Willis to rejuvenate his spirit.

He sat in the corner while eating lunch. Being alone didn’t last long, though. He heard a familiar voice call out his name, “Terry, my man.” He turned to see Jackson, dressed in a blue suit with a hard hat on his head. Terry turned swiftly, nodding as he swallowed the chicken and rice.

“Jackson,” he greeted lowly. “How you doin’?” Jackson replied with an exasperated sigh and peeled the hard hat off his head, revealing his matted curls.

“Man, listen. The new city planner has been behind me regarding these new plans. She ain’t one to be played with.” Terry assumed she was a handful by his tone and shaking his head. He hadn’t known Jackson long, but he was a goofy guy based on his interactions over having dinner three nights at Ms. Willis. So, being bent out of shape over work meant the city planner wasn’t easy to deal with.

“In what way?” Terry asked curiously. This came as a surprise to him. Even though he’d only been in the city for a few days, he couldn’t imagine anyone behind a pain in his behind.

“Is she that bad, or she just won’t let you flirt with her?” Terry’s comment made Jackson cut his eyes. Terry choked on his water as he laughed.

Jackson pulled up a chair and swung it around. “Nah, she’s just…you’ll know when you see her,

man. Had me feeling like I didn’t know how to do my job.” Terry’s eyebrow raised. She sounded condescending, but he was old enough to know not to form opinions based on someone else’s.

Terry closed his Tupperware container and slid it back into the small lunch box he had purchased from the market. “Guess I’ll find out when I meet her.” He stood from his seat and shrugged.

Jackson scoffed. “That’s if you survive her wrath. Just know, I warned you, brother.”

“Warning heard.”

-

“Mr. Richmond, I’m gonna be honest, I’m not sure how capable you are to conduct this projectalongside Mr. Willis.” Jackson was right. She was condescending as hell, and it didn’t sit right with him.

Terry’s light eyes met Jackson’s darker ones; they shared a look. One that said, “I told you so,” and “I see what you mean.” Terry rolled his shoulders back and intertwined his hands.

“And if I may ask, Ms. Taylor. How’d you reach that conclusion?” His facial expressions remained unchanged, though his voice showed slight annoyance with her comment. Ms. Taylor, or Elara Taylor, City Planner of Riverside Heights, mimicked his movement.

She glanced at his resume on her temporary desk.

“You don’t have much construction experience. How do I know you won’t put a faulty pipe in the ground?” Dear God, he thought to himself. He had no clue who this woman was, and she didn’t know him either, yet here she was, making wild accusations with an accusatory tone.

Terry glanced at Jackson swiftly. He had to choose his words wisely for his job and Jackson's position, but she wasn’t getting away with talking to him like an incompetent child.

“Ms. Taylor, common sense is a virtue I possess. I may not be Bob the Builder, but I’m a marine. I’ve worked with things far worse than a pipe, which I’m sure one of the many contractors your office hired would guide me on how to install. I am here for a reason: to do my job. With my two years of prior construction experience.” Terry wasn’t one to get snippy. He usually was cool, calm, and collected, but the last thing he would tolerate was issues with a woman he didn’t know from a can of paint; her title be damned.

Silence fell over the room. Jackson looked between them, sensing the newfound tension between them. He sunk further in his chair.

Elara stared blankly at him. Her dark eyes bore into his light ones. He’d gotten many compliments on his eyes over the years, but hers were just as stunning, if not more. Something about brown eyes made his knees weak, and his loins stirred.

As their staring game intensified, he noted that she was beautiful. Her complexion was rich in hue and relatively smooth, save for the fading acne scars on her cheeks. Her nose and lips

were distinct and whole, like her ancestors. She wore her hair straight, the dark tresses settling at her shoulders, and she wore a two-piece navy blue suit. Elara Taylor was the head woman in charge.

Her eyes softened. She cleared her throat and replied in a softer tone. “So be it. I hope you’re as good as Ms. Willis advocates for you to be. And Jackson, I expect that draft to be on my desk at 9 tomorrow morning. You’re dismissed.” She gave them no opportunity to respond before picking up her pen and scribbling on paper.

Terry chuckled and stood from his seat. His noise caught her attention. She raised an eyebrow.

He raised one back. “You have a great evening, Ms. Taylor.”

She grumbled something under her breath but said nothing further as he left the office, and Jackson shuffled behind him.

Once they were far enough, Jackson said, “Told you she was a lot.”

Terry shrugged and walked toward the meeting room to receive instruction from one of his trainers. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

[brattyfics]

Swampbound I

Adla had lived in Florida her whole life, yet the strange debris that washed ashore after storms still startled her. Broken tree limbs and splintered pieces of homes were expected, but today was different.

Tangled in seaweed, she spotted frantic turtle hatchlings, frogs, and crabs struggling to reclaim their place in the chaos. But nothing compared to the sight before her: a bloody, mangled deer carcass lying in the tall grass, torn flesh and fur clinging to shredded cloth.

Her instincts screamed at her to turn back, but curiosity pulled her closer. Kneeling down, she caught the metallic scent of blood, and a chill gripped her. Something violent had occurred.

A gator? No, they dragged their prey into the water. Maybe a hawk? But even a bird of prey wouldn’t leave this kind of mess. Could it be a bobcat? They prowled these swamps, opportunistic in their hunting. But as she examined the prints—large, wolf-like, and deeper than any she’d seen—her heart raced. Four parallel prints faded into something far stranger: two flatter, elongated impressions.

Like feet.

Human feet.

The footprints were far too big to be hers, and she knew she was alone out there. The air felt thick, the swamp unnaturally quiet, as if the world was holding its breath. Her father’s voice echoed in her mind: “Never run from a person or an animal. Running makes you prey.”

She gripped her hunting knife, steadying her wrist, eyes scanning the brush for hidden dangers but there was nothing– no one hiding in the bushes, no animal stalking her. Just thick humidity, carrying the earthy scent of wet soil and decaying leaves. 

Time to head back.

As she treaded carefully over the spongy ground, the low rumble of an engine caught her attention. She hadn’t expected company—she rarely did. As a child, she’d hated the isolation of this place, but now it felt like a shield.

Rushing up the muddy incline, her boots kicked loose clumps of earth. At the porch of her old Cracker house, she leaned against the weathered wood, squinting down the overgrown path. A boxy, faded green Jeep Cherokee bounced along the uneven track.

Jesse Hampton. Of course.

He stepped out, scanning the trees before his gaze settled on her. His mahogany skin glistened under the humid sun, damp shirt clinging to his chest, hair wild from the moisture. Stubble covered his jaw—unusual for him but understandable after the chaos of the storm. Even so, he was as handsome as ever.

“Addy,” he called, voice steady but laced with urgency. “You shouldn’t be out here alone.” His gaze darted behind her, searching the shadows. “I know it seems all quiet and nice, but it ain’t safe.”

She rolled her eyes, not wanting to give him more reason to worry. “You’re soundin’ just like my father.”

Jesse’s expression tightened, something unspoken hanging between them. He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Promise me you’ll be careful. You got a light in you that draws eyes—sometimes the wrong ones.”

His words hung heavy, and a flicker of fear flashed in her eyes. “You’re fussing over nothing. I’m just fine,” she shot back, but unease gnawed at her. Jesse knew something she didn’t.

“What you doing out here, anyway?” she asked, folding her arms.

“Do I need a reason?” he countered, flashing that charming smile of his.

“You always got a reason when you show up without warning. So, what’s the scoop this time?”

Jesse owned a busy convenience store in town but thrived on side hustles, always finding a way to get by. She admired his resourcefulness, but it was a reminder that he always had some angle he was working.

“Just wanted to check on you, see how you’re faring after the storm. But if I ain’t welcome…” He paused, putting on a mock-serious face. “I can just as easily turn right back around.”

“Yeah, right,” she scoffed, turning away as she ascended the steps. “You say that every time, but you always wind up inside.” She shot him a teasing grin over her shoulder. “You don’t even bother asking to come in anymore.”

“After all the times I’ve been ‘round, why would I ask?” He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, a playful spark in his eye. “Sometimes late at night, if I remember right.”

Adla shook her head, heading toward the kitchen. “That ain’t the same thing, and you know it.”

She opened the fridge and grabbed a pitcher of cold water, pouring a glass and handing it to him. Their fingers brushed, igniting that familiar spark that always hung in the air between them.

“Why you gotta say it like that?” Jesse asked, his brow furrowing as he took a sip from his glass.

“‘Cause you gotta get it, Jesse,” Adla replied, picking her words with care. “I ain’t one for surprises. You should’ve let me know you were coming before just poppin’ up like this.” She forced a sweet smile, hoping to ease the sting. Before anything, he was her closest friend, and the last thing she wanted was to hurt him.

He leaned casually against the counter, a sly grin spreading across his face. Adla considered asking if he’d been snooping around her property—Jesse had a knack for being sneaky—but thought better of it. Questions would only lead to more questions.

“I thought I was special,” he inched closer, a playful glint in his eyes.

“Oh, really? Where’d you get that idea from?” She raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching with amusement.

“Just a hunch,” he said, tugging at a tight curl in her ponytail, the spiral bouncing back like a rubber band. He leaned in to whisper, “I figured if I play my cards right and keep doing that thing you like, I might get a little something in return.”

She fought to hold back a smile. “Like what exactly?”

“Ain’t askin’ for much. Just the freedom to come and go when I feel like it.” Jesse leaned in for a kiss, his lips hovering just shy of hers. Adla pushed against his broad chest, stopping him.

Jesse was fine as hell—fit, sharp, and always finding a way out of trouble. She liked being around him, sure, but no one—not even him—was about to think they had a hold on her. She ran her own life, and settling down wasn’t in the cards, especially when she knew other women were likely getting a taste of that same charm and quick thinking too.

“Nope, not a chance,” she said, playful but firm, shaking her head. “But since you’re already here, I could use your help with something.”

“Oh really?” he replied, his interest piqued. “What you need?”

“Help me set these traps and see what washed up after that storm,” she said, stealing a quick sip from his cup. She wanted to catch some crabs and fish to fill up her freezer, and the thought of going back into the woods alone made her uneasy.

“Aww, man,” he groaned dramatically. “I should’ve known coming over here meant I’d have to work. You’re a real slave driver, you know that?”

They settled into a rhythm, working side by side, their comfortable banter broken by the silence of the storm’s aftermath. They inspected her garden for damage while Jesse filled her in on town gossip—apparently, Mrs. Flowers had been caught in Mr. Jenkins’ house by Mr. Flowers. Uprooted mustard greens littered the ground as Adla pulled them up, but thankfully, the okra and sweet potatoes had weathered the storm. She just hoped the excess moisture wouldn’t lead to rot.

Moving on to the fishing nets and traps, they stumbled upon something concerning.

A mountain of fish heads littered the reeds where she usually set her traps, alongside crab shells stripped of their claws and backs. This wasn’t the typical damage—something worse lurked here, disturbingly messy and uncharacteristic of the area’s usual predators.

“What in the world?” Adla muttered, her heart racing as she scanned the ground for prints. “You think it was a gator?

“A gator wouldn’t leave pieces like this,” Jesse replied, his brow furrowing.

“Something else made this mess,” she finished, feeling her skin prickling as those unsettling feelings from earlier came rushing back. She described the strange prints and the shredded carcass she’d seen to Jesse, who listened closely, rubbing her shoulders to calm her down.

“You shouldn't be out here tonight, Addy. Why don’t you come stay with me?”

Apprehension settled in her gut about what the darkness might bring, but she couldn’t accept his offer. His grandmother’s old house might be just down the road, but it felt wrong to spend the night in another woman’s home—even if she had adored Adla.

Plus, sneaking around with Jesse where anyone could see was out of the question. She refused to give anyone the chance to stir up drama or question her independence. She couldn’t bear the thought of becoming the next Mrs. Flowers, her good name dragged through the mud for all who would listen.

“No one—and nothing—is going to run me out of my house,” she said, half to him, half to herself. This place was her sanctuary, the fruit of her struggles and her ancestors' labor. They had fought hard for this land, and she felt a fierce pride in maintaining it. Out in the wilderness, peace was something earned, not given. She would defend her home if it came to that.

“You don’t know what’s lurking out here, and you think it’s smart to be by yourself? That don’t make no sense, baby doll,” Jesse insisted, his usual persistence edged with urgency.

“Don't call me that. I’m not your ‘baby doll,’” she shot back, irritation flaring. She knew what was good for her better than anyone else ever could. Jesse had been testing her boundaries too much lately.

“I already told you—I’m staying. You should head out on out here before dark.”

“Don’t be like that—” he started, his voice smooth and sweet like molasses. Today, though, she wasn’t falling for it.

“Go on,” she said, stepping in close to block his path. “I’ll finish up and lock everything up tight, but I need you to leave now.”

Jesse met her eyes, noticing the resolve etched into her expression. Adla stood firm, arms crossed, one hip jutting out, her nose wrinkled just so. She had made up her mind, and he knew he’d already pushed her enough for one day.

“Alright, I’m on my way,” he agreed. “But you promise me you ain’t stepping outside tonight. Whatever you do, don’t go crossing that threshold.”

Adla frowned at his strange phrasing. “Why would I be out here? I ain’t foolish enough to roam around at night." His shoulders were knotted with tension. "What’s got you so riled up?”

“Just trust me on this,” he insisted, locking eyes with her, his expression serious. “You’ll be safe, no matter what, if you just stay inside tonight.”

Last she checked, danger didn’t give a damn about doors, windows, or any other barriers. But it was clear he wouldn’t leave until she agreed.

“Alright, fine,” she said, stretching out the words, “I’ll stay in tonight. Not like I was gonna be out and about anyway.”

“Good,” Jesse smiled, wrapping her up in his arms tight. “I’ll call you later, and you better pick up. If you don’t, I’ll be back, whether you want me to or not.” As he turned to leave, Adla couldn’t help but smile after him. Jesse could be a handful, but beneath his cool front, she knew he cared for her just as fiercely as she did for him. In the wild expanse of the Florida swamps, that bond meant everything.

He lingered in the driveway while she hurried to gather crab shells, tossing them into the compost bin—no sense letting them go to waste. He didn’t start his engine until she was safely inside with the door closed, waving goodbye from the street as she watched from the window.

After locking up, she sank into a well-deserved bubble bath, a sweet reward for a hard day’s work. The clawfoot tub, older than her but still in solid shape, had become a cherished fixture in her home. The bathroom, filled with the scent of incense and candles, wrapped around her like a familiar hug. After her father passed, her first goal had been to breathe life back into the old house, make it her own.

Reminders of him were everywhere—the doorframe where he marked her height on the first day of school, the cast-iron pans he used for dinner. But mostly, the house was hers now—weathered, yet undeniably new in its own way.

Her time in the city felt like a world away from the peace she found here. Juggling multiple jobs just to make ends meet, she was always surrounded by nosy neighbors and men who didn’t know how to take no for an answer. But the worst part was the stalker—a shadowy figure who slipped chilling notes under her apartment door. I know who you are. What you can do. It left her confused and drained, but she didn’t tuck tail and run back home until her father passed away.

The guilt of not being there at the end haunted her, so she kept busy. Her part-time job at the new bed-and-breakfast in town helped pay the bills, and on weekends, she sold her art—sculptures made from found objects—at a flea market a couple of towns over. Every spare moment was spent creating with her hands. Her life wasn’t glamorous, but the peace and was worth more than anything else.

“When You’re Young and in Love” by The Marvelettes played softly on the record player, one of her mother’s favorites. She couldn’t quite relate to the notion of being swept off her feet but it sounded good, romantic even. Her daddy had been left in pieces when her mama died, never even thinking about finding another. She yearned for a love that strong, but the idea also chilled her to the bone.

She had only a handful of pictures, but from those, Adla saw the resemblance. She inherited her father’s level-headed temperament, but her rich skin tone, flat nose, and wide, expressive eyes—all of that came from her mother. Those features made her feel close to the woman whose absence she felt deeply.

With a sigh, Adla rose from the cool water, wrapping a towel around her waist. Her earlier worries faded as she slathered on cocoa butter lotion and slipped into a floral-patterned cotton nightgown.

After her nighttime routine of checking the locks and lights, she settled in. The old wooden floors creaked softly underfoot—a comforting sound that added to the home’s charm.

Just as she was about to crawl into bed, faint sounds from outside caught her ear—rhythmic scraping and thumping carried on the wind. Strange noises weren’t rare out in the boonies, but this one sent a shiver down her spine. Something was different. She paused in the hallway, glancing toward the door.

A tug, almost physical, pulled her toward it, despite Jesse’s warnings. It was as if something—someone—was calling her, and the urge was too strong to ignore. 

The door creaked as she pushed it open. Through the screen, she squinted, trying to make sense of the dim shapes outside. A flicker of movement caught her eye, and in the cool moonlight, she saw it—something massive. A shadow loomed over the porch, too large to be any regular animal.

A knot twisted in her gut. It wasn’t a bobcat. This was more like a coyote—if coyotes were massive. No, this creature looked more like a wolf, except wolves didn’t roam Florida’s saltwater jungle.

Its amber eyes glowed like lanterns in the dark, locking onto hers with an intensity that left her feeling ice-cold. Jesse’s warnings echoed in her mind. Was this creature more than it seemed?

I know this fool ain’t lookin’ at me like I’m dinner. Adla squared her shoulders. “You don’t belong here,” she hollered, “Now, git! Get on outta here!”

The wolf growled low and deep, the frightening sound vibrating through the night air. It took a shaky step forward, and she noticed it was limping. A deep, ugly gash ran from its back down to its hind leg, blood darkening the wooden porch.

She didn’t move. Something about the creature—its pain, its presence—held her still. It was more than an injured beast. She couldn’t explain it, but she felt rooted to the spot.

A wave of instinct surged through her, a primal warning that clashed with her fear.

“Don’t you dare come any closer!” she warned, reaching for the shotgun above the door, her gaze locked on the approaching creature. She raised the gun, aiming through the screen, her finger on the trigger.

If it took just one more step forward—

The wolf paused at the door’s edge, held back by something unseen, something stronger than the flimsy screen. Her eyes flicked to the threshold, recalling Jesse’s cryptic words about things not crossing certain lines.

This was it. A choice. But Adla hesitated, her finger hovering over the trigger. She couldn’t pull it.

The wolf whined, collapsing in a heap at her feet, its strength giving out. Its amber eyes, still glowing, held no aggression—only a silent plea. The sight tugged at something deep inside her, stirring memories of her own struggles.

Her father’s words echoed in her mind: “Respect the creatures out here, just like you respect yourself. Life’s tough enough without us makin’ it harder on each other.”

Adla sighed, lowering the shotgun. The wolf’s blood was already drying on the porch. Tomorrow, she’d scrub it clean, but for tonight, she’d let the creature stay. She hoped it would make it through the night.

After triple-checking the locks, she placed the shotgun within arm’s reach and settled into bed, the creaking floorboards beneath her a familiar lullaby. Yet, the strange pull toward the wolf lingered in her mind. Maybe it wasn’t just an animal, but something deeper—a reflection of her own struggles, a sign from her father. Whatever it was, she’d reckon with it tomorrow. For now, she surrendered to sleep, trusting that both she and the wolf would survive the night.

Chapter Two.

@nayaesworld @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @sageispunk @megamindsecretlair @blowmymbackout @kindofaintrovert @avoidthings @zillasvilla @insidefeelingofanadult @theereina @slutsareteacherstoo @babybratzmaraj @senajaiaspeak @princessmakipala @writingsbytee @planetblaque @liquorlaughslove @judymfmoody @playgurlxoxo @theescorpiolovechile @keyaho @gg-trini i @vivaalenaa @li-da-savage @ash-ketchumzzz

[mermaidchansons]

Divine Indeed: Part Three

Neighbor!Terry Richmond x Divine Wells (black OC)

Story Summary: Divine Wells, a 31-year-old seamstress, deals with waves of change after she picks up her life and moves to San Diego for a new job. She thought she’d finally found peace in her new normal; until Oshun decided to push her path to collide with her fine ass neighbor, Terry Richmond.

Words: 2100+

Warnings: SMUT, 18+ minors do NOT engage (you’ll be blocked), mommy issues, tism is tisming real bad, cannabis usage

Series Playlist

Author’s Note: Woah, can’t believe we’re already on part three! I hope y’all catch my ‘roll credits!’ moment lmao. I wanna know, does anyone relate to Divine? Also, would you be able to resist Terry’s charm? Lemmie know <3 - Ashanti

Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3 Pt. 4

Part Three

If Divine had to hand stitch another bead on a corseted gown, she was going to scream. She never thought an article of clothing would make her wish Olorun had created her. This one was a rush job, custom ordered by some famous artist’s team. Every day for the past two weeks, her workspace was a mess; seas of blue, silver, and green beads bestrewed it and found their way into her apartment. Divine would undress for bed every night and the clang of beads would hit her floor, rolling to god knows where. Sometimes sending a sharp pain through her foot when she happened to stumble upon them. I love my job, I love my job, I love my job. And she did love her job. Her backbreaking, finger-numbing job that she had manifested and waited for. She remembered laying on her parent’s living room floor, spinning tales of her dream job to her twin Seraphim. She just needed a small break from it. Thank goddess for a holiday weekend, maybe she’d get some feeling back in her hands.

S: So I guess no Breath of The Wild tonight?

Divine let out an exaggerated sigh and pulled her sleep shirt over her head. Friday nights were Switch nights for the Wells siblings. Pajamas, the $5.99 mix-and-match deal from the local pizzeria, and pre-rolls. Now, a new job and 652 miles later, they partied virtually. But it wasn’t the same for Divine. She didn’t miss her town, but she missed her sibling. Her twin never failed to make her smile. 

D: I’m sorry, Ser. They’ve been riding me to finish that project and I need sleep before I DIY death

S: You’re so valid, sib. Oh, heads up, mom says to call her

D: Ugh, don’t even start, I’m bout to knock out

S: Here’s a meme for your consolation *sends meme*

[a photo of an aurora borealis sky with a dragon leaning into frame and text that says ‘your man wouldn’t even fill a lesser soul gem’]

Divine chuckled tiredly, and rolled over into position: one leg up with her knee uncovered to offset the heat. Her eyes started to flutter closed when her phone buzzed. 

S: On some real shit though, you need to call her. I can’t keep playing the middleman

It had been three weeks, two days, and 5 hours since she last spoke to her mom. Her subconscious kept counting ever since she raised her voice at her mother for the first time in twenty-nine years. It was a day where a particular form of sadness clung to Divine and refused to leave; an unwanted host, sucking the serotonin out of her with a crazy straw. Baby Divine had always been regarded as moody or possessing an attitude by the adults around. But when the ‘big sad’ hit, there was nothing she could do to fix it. So she dared to feel her feelings and was honest when her mom asked how she was doing. 

She didn’t know if she wanted to vent or scream or cry. She just wanted to be comforted, to be told that everything was going to be okay. Looking back on it, Divine squirmed in bed, the slimy feeling of regret coating her mouth. She knew her mother was solution based. She knew her mother could not offer what she needed. She knew. And yet, she still tried to penetrate the wall that shrouded her mother’s understanding. A small part of her hoped that maybe this would be the time when she would be surprised by the response. Divine felt the small light of hope in her chest go out as soon as the words left her mother’s mouth. 

‘Did you use your tools?’ 

‘Have you asked the Orisha’s for guidance?’ 

‘You can’t keep letting these things devastate you’

‘You can’t let one thing dictate your entire day’

‘Stop being so dramatic’

Divine left the call breathless and broken, cutting her fingers on the pieces as she tried to pull herself back together. She was angry. Partly at her mother but mostly at herself. How could she be so childish to think that her mother would offer her the comfort that she searched for? As if her mother was capable of change; as if she hadn’t had similar conversations with her mother every time the unsolicited host reared its ugly head. She didn’t even remember what she screamed before hanging up suddenly. 

Sera was right and she knew it. She’d have to speak to her eventually. She hated it when her twin was right. Squeezing her eyes shut, Divine turned away from the phone to smoosh her face against her brightly patterned pillow. That was a problem for future Divine. She laid her hand against her protruding tummy and focused on her breathing. A trick a counselor had taught her in middle school that carried her for the last 16 years. Sucking in a deep breath, holding for four seconds, and breathing out for another four; her mind and all its worries drifted away. 

In the swirl of darkness, Divine felt scans of heat travel up her legs. Wet sounds of her arousal sounded in her ears, tightening her stomach as thick lips wrapped around her hardened bead. She stifled a moan while reaching out desperately. The sensation was building steadily, determined to tear her apart. A large calloused hand wrapped around hers and placed it atop waves of hair. Finally finding the strength to open her eyes, she leaned up to see the man who was so intent on pleasuring her. He was massive against her 5’2 frame. His shoulder blades rolled under his caramel tinted skin as he pushed her right thigh as far back as it would go. The new angle revealed more of his face. Divine caught sight of a dark, neat eyebrow before the man pushed two fingers into her dewy entrance. 

The steady pace of his fingers moving in and out of her tightened the coil in her abdomen, a guttural moan escaping her throat and betraying her. She’d never heard these noises come out of her mouth before. What was he doing to her? The man moaned against her sex in approval, speeding up his pace. Divine threw her head back in ecstasy, shutting her eyes once more to chase the orgasm she knew she needed. Her heart pounded as the tips of her ears set ablaze and the coil snapped. Her body seized up as she came, her hardened bead twitching discordantly against his tongue. He pulled his fingers out of her slowly, eliciting a deep hum from his lips. When Divine blinked away her tears, she was shocked to see a naked Terry of Level 5. Those same stormy ocean eyes staring directly into her soul, making her want to come all over again. Her mouth dropped as she watched him suck the evidence of her arousal off of his fingers. 

“Just like I thought you would taste. Divine, indeed.”

For a moment everything went black and Divine shot out of bed, thunder booming in her ears. She looked around the dark room before patting wildly and picking up her phone. 

6:00 AM

Missed Call from The Momster Mash 38 min. ago

Groaning, Divine covered her face with her Gajeel body pillow. She’d never felt so embarrassed. Terry was so kind the last time they saw each other and she couldn’t help but wonder what his lips tasted like while he talked. One conversation and he had invaded her mind. After giving herself a good talking to, she had nipped that kind of thinking in the bud; even going so far as to avoid him completely. She’d felt the chill of possibility creep up her spine when his thick lips parted into a smile. The weakness in her knees was a warning she knew to heed. So she swore off thinking about his piercing eyes and his wide biceps for good. Or, she at least thought she had. Her eyes darted to her ancestor table, then to her nightstand where Terry’s business card had been lying untouched for the past four weeks. The cold wet spot beneath her gave her pause and she looked out at the rain hitting her window with pleading eyes. 

“Oshun, please. Please leave me be. Please stop.” 

She definitely couldn’t text him now.

7:00 PM

Quack! Quack! Quack! 

Divine jumped at the sound of her alarm, scuttering to turn it off while never taking her eyes off the computer. Too many hours had passed since she started crocheting a cardigan after breakfast, or what Divine would consider to be breakfast: a piece of toast and a sweet potato latte from her new favorite coffee shop. The two items may have satisfied her mind, but her stomach thought otherwise. It wasn’t that Divine didn’t like food, it was just eating. The process of it. Having to sit down and dedicate the time to chew and drink and chew; it was an exercise in patience that she didn’t have. Food regret was also too much of a risk, so comfort food items were often exhausted. To the point where food began to taste bland and feel like a waste of time.

A loud and low grumble erupted from her tummy beneath her blankets. Pausing the gaming marathon, she scrunched up her face at the sound. She only had one sleeve left. Certainly, her stomach could wait for another hour or two- Grumbleeee. Groaning loudly, she threw her head back in defeat before rolling her chair back. She stretched her arms and legs as far as they could go, eliciting a symphony of pops and cracks from different body parts. Beelining into the bedroom closet, she hastily changed into something comfy and cute. She may not always like the task of eating, but she desperately needed an enchilada before her stomach made it known to the entire apartment complex that she was starving herself for a crochet project. 

Ordering a car in record time, Divine stood before her small altar with her hand on her chest. She closed her eyes tight and prayed to the ancestors and Orishas for peace of mind, a safe drive over, and to be treated with compassion. Going to a restaurant alone wasn’t a new thing for her, but having to go outside and deal with people was its own beast. Her phone alerted her that her driver was only two minutes away. Should she take her yarn with her? No, she’s already taking her switch and a journal. How many side quests did one person need for a dinner? Divine hesitated with her hand on the doorknob, before turning on her heels to go back to her messy craft table. She grabbed the half-unraveled ball of yarn and shoved it into her tote before walking out without another thought. 

Friday nights were a risky time to go out for dinner. Traffic downtown was already bad, but walking traffic was even worse. Couples and 21-year-olds filled the walkways, chatting so loud you could hear their conversation from around the corner. Divine had never been more happy to be a solo diner. No 45-minute wait or being seated in the middle of a bustling restaurant. She could grab a seat at the bar, order food from the bartender, and watch Black Lightening in peace. Simple as that; as long as this security line continues to move. 

The line was zooming past. But time seemed to slow the closer the stranger behind her got. She could practically feel his breath against her neck as the gap between them disappeared. Looking out of the corner of her eye, she watched the snooty-looking man teeter to the side impatiently; sneering at her before yelling at the person ahead to ‘speed up, bro’. He was bouncing up and down while clutching his girlfriend’s hand like a child. Her patience was thinning but there was only one person left in front of her. Divine turned the music up in her headphones to drown out his nasal voice. Inching up, she tried her best to keep a respectable gap between them while she fished out her ID. If he got any closer, she was going to give up on the entire crusade and go home hungry. 

A sprinkle of rain tapped against her face, making her look down and watch the feet in front of her enter the restaurant. Relief washed over her as she approached the door and handed over her info.

“Look who it is.”

Thanks For Reading!

@babybluepeaches @muse-of-mbaku @melaninmarvel @naturallyqueenie @howtoshuckatlife @goldieccentric @archivistofwakanda @alexundefined @minyara-kun @destinio1 @raysunshine78 @madamslayyy @notdsg @ghostfacekill-monger @soufcakmistress @greennightspider @bitchacho25 @jordanhelah @puremolasses @ajspencer1892 @monochrome-pineapple @psuedo4 @bubblyqueen @chaneajoyyy @blowmymbackout @tchallasbabymama @megamindsecretlair @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @jvzmine19 @ashanti-notthesinger

[keyaho]

Melanin Preparatory Academy

.summary.: Sisters Brennan and Blaire Anderson are the founders of Melanin Preparatory Academy. A private school that services the African American community in South Georgia. While the school does phenomenally, the personal lives of the sisters aren’t as put together. Brennan and Aaron are hiding their relationship while his twin, Terry, tries to rekindle his relationship with Blaire, the mother of their seven year old son, Noah. co-written with: @zillasvilla

Kindergarten - 3rd grade students remain with one teacher for the whole school year.

Orientation : Coming Soon

Taglist: This is the masterpost so if you would like to be added, please like this post. If you would like to be removed let us know as well.

group one: @nayaesworld @peachbuttetfly @harmshake @heauxvibez @avoidthings

group two: @mymindisneverhere @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @eilujion @heytaewrites

group three: @browngirldominion @insidefeelingofanadult @blackerthings @gwenda-fav @brandithecrystalgem

group four: @captainwithoutmakingitlove @dremmmm @kindofaintrovert @thegreatlibraryofalex @jimmybutlrr

group five: @beenathembo @kuromiish @virgomess @bbyxgall @theereina

group six: @randomhood @ash-ketchumzzz @dundienominated

[angelic-iam]

Stroke Of Luck Chapter One

Warnings: Profanity, angst, adult themes and conversations, hints at infertility, infidelity, death , light violence

A/N: Please excuse any grammatical errors I tried to go through it as best I could .second bear with me if its not up to reading standard im trying to jump back into my writing bag and this will be my first story I've actually released so I might be a bit rusty lol but please enjoy

Word count: 4273

Series Master List

I sat on the front porch of my family home trying to hold it together as I watched my father put the last of jordans bags into the car .Today was the day I had been dreading the most my older brother Jordan was going away again on deployment .He had told us months ago about his decision to reenlist and I had been preparing myself for his departure hoping it would put me at ease. It didn't. My brother is one of my best friends and to see him leave was going to leave me with a void. Even through my dismay however I was proud of him even if in this moment my emotions didn't allow for me to show it.It didn't take long before the empty space beside me was filled with a familiar face. I turned to see Jordan, his face filled with sadness. Respecting the space I was in he allowed for us to sit in silence a moment before deciding to break it. “you okay?” he asked concern laced in his voice. I shook my head “not really," I replied softly, trying to avoid eye contact knowing I would cry. He sighed pulling me into his side as the tears began to prick my eyes.” I promise this time will fly by so fast you won't even realize” he said kissing my forehead .”No jo I will notice it will not be the same without you. who else will keep me sane dealing with ma and jade you're the only thing holding us together “ I croaked “ Theres always facetime if that doesn't work then we write, and if that don't work I'll send a pigeon” he joked Not being able to it in hold in a laughed spilled from my lips Jordan joining in seconds later “Jo it's time to hit the road” our fathers voiced called out .Jordan nodded his head signaling for my dad to give him a moment. Jordan stood pulling me up with him into a hug me, nuzzling my face into his chest feeling the water works starting back up. “I love you so much josie” he said wiping a stray tear that slipped free “I love you more jo” I said turning him loose. “Oh, and sis do me one last favor” he said walking down the porch steps “name it” I called out “smile no more tears”. I cracked a small smile as he turned making his way to the car climbing in leaving me in a broken mess as I watch my dad's chevy Tahoe disappear down the road.

━━━━━━♡♤♡━━━━━━

In the same spot I stood five years later staring down the same dirt road my brother wouldn't have the opportunity of returning to. He was gone. Jordan was sent in on a rescue mission to save a fellow marine of his platoon, ironic in the end he ended up being the one needing saving. Shit went south and my brother was shot and killed in the line of fire. I was angry feeling as if the universe had slighted me robbing me of being able to share future moments with my brother. Him cheering me on when as I walked

the stage after completing nursing school, being a bridesmaid in his and his fiancé Arielle's wedding, holidays, birthdays. Gone. The only presence of him now in this moment was his framed picture that stood in the front of our family home for the repass. Not wanting to continue allowing myself to drown further in my grief I turned walking up the steps primary focus locating one of two people Arielle or my cousin India . It didn't take long to find ari talking with one of my aunts. Arielle was short in stature compared to most with smooth golden-brown skin that seemed to glow as the warm rays peaked through the window and a fit physique that would put Tyra banks to shame. No doubt courtesy of her personal trainer profession. Her round face framed with voluptuous curls. It was amazing to see her strength. Throughout her struggle a dimpled smile still adorned her face one that caused her Chinky eyes to disappear as she laughed. Noticing me walking over she politely closed out her conversation with my aunt walking to meet me. “Where did you disappear to “she quizzed giving me a slight nudge “ I needed some fresh air the condolences and sorry for your losses were becoming overwhelming” I huffed "Trust, I get it I have to many people asking me what i'm going to do with me and our son” she stated shifting uncomfortably. My heart ached for her. I couldn't imagine how it is to become a widow, single parent, and having to break the news to kaizen.

“for whatever your move or decision is you're not alone. You got me forever and so does nugget “I Said with half smile. She giggled at the nickname I assigned kaizen at birth. We glanced over watching the mini version of Jordan running around the house with the other kids.” I almost forgot your dad wanted to see us in the kitchen” she stated switching the topic. I nodded as we made our way to the cramped kitchen pushing past multiple bodies. My dad stood looking down at my mother with admiration as they talked among themselves “Hey daddy “I greeted walking over as he pulled me into a hug “Hey baby come sit your sister should be here in a moment” he said ushering me and ari to sit. I scrunched up my face at the mention of my sister. Jade and I had an exceedingly tenuous relationship. Jade was the youngest out of the three of us and was the golden child spoiled completely rotten. In my parents' eyes she could do no wrong and treated her as such. It didn't help that my mother drove the wedge and distaste for one another deeper pitting me and my sister against each other in a warped ass competition. Who is better than the other. My mother secretly rooted for jade while my dad on the other hands liked to play devil's advocate. Jordan was the only one who called them out holding everyone ,including myself accountable. The final nail in the coffin was catching Jade and my then boyfriend of two years Darien in bed together not to mention she continues to see him. To say I was hurt and angry was an understatement and as my family (aside from Jordan) tends to do they brushed it under the rug. As if her ears were burning jade stalks in turning her nose up at the sight of me. Feeling myself become anxious and agitated I decided to jump start the conversation “everything okay you wanted to speak with us” I question. Dad sighed grabbing a stack of papers from the counter sitting down placing them in the middle of the table. “We are going to start sorting out your brother estate and assets “Now” I asked in disbelief “Yes per your mother request”. Still not understanding the urgency I pressed further “Why so soon?” I said.” I have something important to take care of so I asked mom and dad to move it up” jade answered nonchalantly “what could possibly be so important that were doing this the day of our brothers funeral “I gritted out finding myself becoming angry. Sensing this Arielle reached over taking my hand in hers giving it a light squeeze “I have a trip I'll be going on we didn't want to move the dates” jade shrugged.” A DAMN TRIP!! WERE GRIEVING AND YOU HAVE NO CONCERN OR REGARD FOR ME OR FOR ARRIELLE. MY BROTHER ISNT EVEN IN THE GROUND GOOD AND YOU’RE WORRIED ABOUT A TRIP AND IF WE CALL IT LIKE IT IS YOU’RE WONDERING WHAT YOU CAN GET YOUR HANDS ON FUCKING SELF-” 

“JOSELYNN TAYLOR, YOU MIND YOUR MOUTH IN MY HOME I DIDNT RAISE YOU TO BE DISRESPECTFUL AND WE AREN'T GOING TO START NOW “My mom interrupted slamming her hand down on the table. “Dad” I turned to him secretly pleading for him to jump to my defense but as always nothing.” Josie, I get that you’re upset I do but let's just rip the band aid off and get this over with” he said pulling his reading glasses on his face. Meanwhile jade's face held a victorious smirk, and I wanted nothing more than to put it through some dry wall “The lawyers drew up the paperwork dividing the assets based on Jordan's will. He had a one hundred fifty-thousand-dollar life insurance policy that will be divided fourways between his parents, two sisters and fiancé Arrielle. His dodge challenger he left to his sister Jade Taylor while rest the remaining vehicles will go to his fiancé Arrielle Rodriguez” From the side of my eye I could see jade smiling. “As for his properties he leaves the townhome located in California 9870 Blancas Blvd. in Anaheim to Arrielle and lastly, the ranch house located at 1600 rose ridge rd here in Dallas Texas as well as the 8 acres surrounding it” My dad paused taking a moment to catch his breath as my sister sat up in her chair ready “ will be left to his sister Joselynn Taylor” he finished laying the paper on the table. Jade scoffed snatching up the paper reading it not believing what she's heard. I sat in shock looking over at Arrielle who nodded confirming it for me.

“ Me and Jordan decided to create a backup plan in case of a worst-case scenario. Never thought id actually have to execute it. We thought it'd be best if I moved back to Cali to be closer to my parents and family for support, the house is way too much for me and kaizen by ourselves and besides it would be a painful reminder to our son “she stated fighting tears. “He thought you were the most deserving seeing as your in school and jade has support from your parents figured it would be the best for you” ari said. "But that's not fair I got plenty of cars that's nothing can't you do something” Jade complained her turn now to plead with our parents. My mother diverted her attention now to me “Josie can't you switch it's not like you need it. You’re single, no kids unlike your sister who's been in a three-year relationship with Darien and expecting “she tried to reason while sneakily throwing jabs at me. I let my eyes dance between my parents and jade reading their body language. It was true. "You -your pregnant” I stuttered as a began to internally crack “Yes it was confirmed yesterday at the doctors. Four weeks along I think Darien is more excited than me” jade beamed getting a kick at seeing me squirm at the news “you know I could refer you to our doctor he could possibly help with that sour ass womb of yours” she bragged tossing her hair over her shoulder. I could feel my throat begin to close up as tears were now flowing down my face “Jade that's messed up and out of pocket l what is that to say to someone? You just be lucky your ungrateful behind received anything your words are uncalled for” Arrielle jumped in taking to my defense “thanks Arri for taking up for me, dad I can't do this I gotta go” I stood abruptly pushing myself away from the table storming out of the house hoping into my car speeding off.

I drove with no destination until my crying turned into dry heaving processing the news. Not only did I have to take my sister snatching my relationship with Darien from under me but now I have the pleasure to watch them start a family one that should've been mine. A shitty way to rub salt in the wound. Ten minutes passed by before the sound of coco jones ICU blared through the car's speaker. Taking a quick glance at the car screen. I see my favorite cousin India name displaying. I may not have had a sister relationship with Jade, but I did find one with India. If I wasn't with Jordan I was with her. Three musketeers. I tapped answer “hey India wassup” I asked trying to mask the fact I was just crying “Honey I should be asking you that seeing the way you just ran out of here what happened”. I sighed “It's a long story “I stated “ wanna talk about it over some drinks at dukes “she offered ‘ooh please link with you at 8” I replied “see you then” she agreed

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I tossed back my second shot of tequila squeezing my eyes closed as the clear liquid burned my chest India taking the chance to laugh at my facial expressions. “Thats no ordinary liquor “ I coughed “ Yeah but your ass needs it , now do you want to tell me what happened back at uncle Melvins” she said getting straight to business “ Where to start let's see that bitch jades greedy ass talked to my mom to convince her to push up sorting out Jordans affairs disregarding the fact were hurting, the only good and surprising thing was Jordan left a house to me but of course jade with help from my mom couldn't let that slide nooo they had to degrade me and spring on me that jades pregnant by Darien, Jade finished with saying she can refer me to her doc for my quote sour womb” I rambled with air quotes causing India to spit out her drink “ I know you fucking lying” she blurted “I Wish I was “ I chuckled darkly signaling the bartender for another round “so are we dragging her now or later” she asked in all seriousness “ we can't she's pregnant” I retorted “ AND her face aint her lip would have been swole before she could leave the house” India shook her head completely dumbfounded “I'm honestly in a space of being mentally exhausted it feels like I've had the worst luck of the draw. I can't seem to maintain anything good “I said “Josie Girl, I love you but were gonna gone head and shut your self pity party down. Sure you're going through some shit right now but it's not the end of the world. Your smart as hell ,On your way to becoming a nurse, fine as hell with a fat ass” she joked giving my behind a poke causing me to laugh “besides there's nothing you've lost that can't be regained Darien left but he aint the only man left in the world. You just got to find the right one for you one that slangs the meat” she said gyrating “oh my god dee must you do that in public and why so loud” I said covering my face in embarrassment “ I don't care you need some but first you have to stop running them away” she teased. ”it's not my fault they can't handle me “I shrugged leaning against the bar. She wouldn't call it running them off more so like weeding out the bad. Joselynn was tough overall to crack. Her hard exterior was difficult to get through. She was already to some degree antisocial so to get a conversation from her was a blessing. Even then you had to be engaging enough to hold her attention both in and out of the bedroom as she got bored easily. She wasn't one to just settle for anything as the slightest misstep/red flag and you were gone. Joselynn knew part of it was due to Darien.” you need to come with a sign that says you bite” She teased tooting her lips up at me as I shoved her slightly laughing. Before I respond Tamia’s Can't Get Enough came over the bar's speaker causing hoops and yells to erupt. Instinctively me and India made our way over to where the line dance started joining in. I was grateful for the distraction India provided and the peace she managed to bring. We continued throughout the night to dance to a few more songs take a few more drinks to the head before deciding to call it a night. Stumbling into the house I kicked my shoes off at the door making my way to my bedroom struggling to find the light. I went to take a seat on my bed seeing both a letter and a manilla envelope. The envelope from my dad the letter from Jordan. My hands trembled slightly gripping the letter not wanting to pull myself back into a state of hurt. I sat the letter to the side grabbing the envelope ripping it open out tumbling out a set of keys, inside the deed to the house and a small note from my father  

Josie i'm sorry for earlier on behalf of your mother and sister inside is the deed for the house the keys as well as the address I love you always pops 

Part of me was still angry but I had a soft spot for my dad and he knew that. Officially tired I sat the paperwork on the side table stripping my clothes and turning off the light, deciding to shower in the morning. It wasn't long till sleep overtook me.

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A month had passed since the day of the funeral and I had tried to bury the emotions of Jordan being gone so much that I buried myself in other things to keep my mind occupied. Working at the hospital being a CNA provided some distraction and what my job didn’t cover in the distraction field schooling took care of the rest. In its own way they also provided me an excuse and shielding from my unrelenting mother who still made it her business to call pestering me to rethink my decision about the home. I won’t. It was one thing I had power over, and I wouldn't relinquish it so easily. For the first two weeks of his passing I went back and forth on whether or not I would actually move into the home not feeling quite right about it but after starting to feel like things were becoming stagnant decided it was best to move. I slowly drove up the light graveled path mouth dropping at the sight of the house that sat nestled at the end of the dirt road. It was a stunning two-story ranch style house with a wraparound porch. Coming into a stop I tossed the boxed moving truck into park hopping down to get a better look at the home “this is gorgeous “India stated walking up after parking her car. “I agree can't believe he left this for me” I marveled taking it all in “well believe it toots now let's gawk at it from the inside we got work to do” she declared holding her hand out for the truck keys. Dropping them into her hands she went to grab the first box as I went to open the door. The interior was just as beautiful as the exterior. The multicolored stone walls paired well with the mahogany hardwood floors and high ceilings. The set up with the furniture accented well no doubt due to Arrielle's careful selection when they were here.” Girl this is neeiceeee it don't smell like roaches in here or nothing "India shouted carrying in one of the boxes “You don't have the sense you were born with” I chuckled at her reference to girls trip “you ready to get this over with”. She groaned knowing just like me how long of a process unpacking was going to be. Without another moment of hesitation we jumped in getting started.

After what felt like years later I folded the last of my clothes, placing them away as India flopped on my bed groaning. “ I hate your don't need a man for shit mentality that was horrible” she grumbled “ It wasn't that bad” I giggled plopping down beside her “ Like hell it wasn't my ass is going to be hurting for days” she countered “I'll make it up to you I promise” I teased pinching her cheek “ yes you will tonight I want dinner fried chicken, mac the works” she responded smacking my hand away sitting up on her elbows “ Your joking” I asked not knowing if she was serious or not “nope I'm serious”. “Dee I don't feel like it” I whined “tough shit” she said not wavering. She was just as stubborn as I was.” Fine but you're getting the groceries” I huffed out relenting. “Cool with me I'm gonna go home shower then i'll swing back”. She jumped up grabbing her keys walking out. Taking this as an opportunity I grabbed a t-shirt and underwear from my drawer walking into the large master bathroom. I turned on the shower allowing the warm water to run relaxing my tense muscles strained by the lifting. After I finished I got dressed walking back in the room looking for my phone realizing I must have left it downstairs. Making my way to the stairs I could see the light from the living room reflecting on the wall. I figured India may have left it on that was until it flicked off. I froze on the top stair as my mind began to race, trying to rationalize what I saw. Maybe it was India. No, she wouldn't be back that quick. Maybe it was a blown fuse but a scared part of me didn't want to chance it. Tip toeing back upstairs I looked for something to use as a weapon eyes landing on the hammer I had used earlier to hang photos. Clutching it tight I slowly crepted downstairs the only noise was the sound of my heart thumping in my ears. Rounding the corner I froze seeing a figure standing a few feet away in the doorway the moonlight highlighted their 5’8 figure while providing shade from their face. Fear momentarily fueling me I got ready to charge forward when someone grabbed hold of my wrist twisting it causing my grip on the hammer to loosen eventually dropping it. Not having time to process what was happening I was grabbed and flipped on my back pinned down by the larger party. Still I struggled against the intruder managing to momentarily free my arm. I drew my arm back throwing blows anywhere they would land this didn't do anything but piss the person of as I was lifted slightly from the floor and slammed back down causing me to yelp in pain. Panic set in flooding through my nervous system. “TERRY WAIT SHIT I THINK THAT'S A WOMAN” a voice cut through from the other side. The lights flicked on seconds later giving me the chance now to get a look at the intruders. The one by the door stubbled faced held panic as he too assessed our current situation. Remembering the heavy weight at my midsection my eyes shot to the one who had me pinned. My breath hitched in my throat.

His honey kissed face glared back down at me while his plump lips twisted up in a snarl. His chiseled arms flexed as he kept me held in place but the most defining thing however. His eyes. A beautiful pool of blue gray encircling hints of hazel and green something similar to a painter who accidentally had his watercolor paints blending together into a perfect mess. “If I let you go do you promise to not do anything stupid” his baritone voice questioned snapping me from my awkward eye raping. I nodded in response. He stood pulling me effortlessly up with him. “Who are you and what are you doing in my house?” I asked finding my voice coming back as I rubbed my now sore shoulder. “I'm Mike that's terry" the one from the doorway answered “sorry if we scared you” he said sheepishly. “Scared is an understatement and that still doesn't answer why you're here or why I shouldn't be calling the cops for breaking and entering and assault” I fussed through gritted teeth. Still not saying much since turning me loose the one name terry walked past me grabbing something from his bag on the floor walking back over to me handing me a piece of paper. Jordans handwriting.

Hey T if you're receiving this letter it's because I'm dead. It's funny thinking on it seeing as the squad always joked calling me mister invincible but yet here I am gone. I thank you for always being there for me since meeting you you've always been like a brother to me rather than a fellow marine in arms. Given our prior conversation about your situation, I wanted to do one thing for you. I offer you T a place of solitude if you ever need to get away the address is listed below keys are hidden in the porch light fixture. Continue to be great .. I love ya man  

                                                          Jordan signing out for the last time 

I looked up at him handing the letter back to him. "You knew my brother” I said feeling the wave of his death rushing back again. I watched as his face widened in realization of who I was. “Yes we served together. I apologize for roughing you up I didn't realize you were Jordans sister. I thought you might have been someone that had broken in”. I nodded understanding. “it's fine I thought the same” I said calming down. “Look we don't want to crowd your space and sorry for the intrusion. I didn't think anyone would be here. Your brother as you can see failed to mention you moving in we will leave” Terry said signaling for mike to grab their bags. I sighed looking towards the ceiling having an internal battle with myself and before I could stop myself the words flew from my mouth “You can stay”