#terry richmond x black character

[ch33z3grits]

Crimson Obsessions | A Terry Richmond Vampire Series

(coming soon) summary: After a steamy encounter with a sinfully handsome man in New Orleans, Camille DeWaterson returns to her life as a soon-to-be-married paralegal in Houston, Texas. But the incident becomes difficult to forget when the otherworldly stranger waltzes into her law firm, bringing a series of strange and enticing events with him. Terrence “Terry” Richmond, is an incredibly disciplined, calculating, and ambitious individual, at least… that’s what he is to the average mortal. But in reality, he’s a bloodthirsty supernatural with a keen interest for money, power, and beautiful women. When the gorgeous Camille DeWaterson slips from his grasp one fateful night in New Orleans, he vows to track her down and make her his bride. It doesn’t matter to him that she already has a fiancé or a commitment to join two families together. He isn’t going to rest until she belongs to him… body, mind and soul.

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

a/n: hi :) I saw a request for a vampire Terry Richmond fic where Terry is a home wrecker. I waited and waited for someone to pick it up but no one has so I said let me give it a try lmaoo. I’m fairly new to tumblr and I haven’t written on here before, so please be gentle with me. I’ll try my best to include the right warnings and tags. Also, I haven’t written a fanfic in over 8 years 😭 so again, please be kind. This is just something I want to do to have an outlet during my last semester of grad school. A few heads up for this story:

it will be at least 15 parts

I plan to update every Friday

each part will be long (5k+ words)

the story will have dark themes, including dark sexual themes. This is for 18+ audiences only

For now, here is a snippet of the story. I hope you all enjoy :)

warnings: stalking, breaking and entering, light smut? (panty stealing, panty sniffing), mentions of alcohol and drugs

Terry knew it was twisted. Breaking into his colleague's apartment to find the best way to ruin his life was abhorrent by human standards. But he wasn’t human. He hasn’t been human for centuries. So he didn’t give a fuck. Aston McCoy was the one thing standing in the way of him getting his hands on his prize, Camille DeWaterson.

Holding her.

Taking care of her.

Fucking her.

Worshipping her.

When Terry first placed his eyes on Camille during her sister’s bachelorette festivities in New Orleans a month ago, he vowed to move heaven and earth to have her all to himself. So if he had to pursue a little breaking and entering to set his plan into motion, so be it.

Terry's footsteps were silent to the average ear as he sauntered around the luxurious loft. He gazed at the expensive minimalist furniture, carefully curated wall decor, and the artificial plants that were strategically placed in the living area. Sterile, boring, and safe. The signs of a young white man who desperately wanted to be taken seriously and belong in the upper echelons of society. Terry smirked and shook his head. Throughout his long, long life, Terry had run into men like Aston at every turn. Slave owners, military officials, mob bosses… white men who had the world at their feet but were always at the risk of slipping and falling. All it took was one blow from Terry and they were tumbling to the ground. Aston McCoy would be no different.

Although he was amused by the pathetic apartment, Terry grew irritated as he stalked through the space. There were no signs that McCoy had a vice as he rummaged through drawers and closets. No bottles of booze. No baggies of coke. No anonymous flash drives. Nothing that could be easily used against him. Terry scoffed, feeling his eyebrows push together as he approached the last doorway in the apartment. McCoy’s bedroom. He entered the room lazily, expecting further disappointment. But his eyes widened as they settled on the central point of the room: the bed. On the left side, McCoy was bundled under a mountain of covers, his hair peeking out at the top being the only indication that it was him. But on the right side… laid Camille DeWaterson, looking like an absolute angel. Her body was completely exposed due to her fiancé's selfish hogging of the covers. McCoy’s actions at any other time would have Terry seeing red. But instead, they accidentally gave Terry the most pleasant and mouth-watering surprise he could have hoped for tonight.

Camille laid flat on her back, the side of her face perfectly highlighted by the moonlight pouring in as she snuggled into the crook of her arm. Her gorgeous dark brown skin seemed to glisten in the moon’s glow, asking, begging to be licked and sucked and marked. She was mostly bare, wearing nothing but a soft white satin nightgown that dipped dangerously low into her cleavage and was hiked up around her waist. Terry's focus on the task at hand faltered as his dick turned to stone. His tongue darted out of his mouth to moisten his lips hidden under his black ski mask. Desperate to give himself some form of relief, he palmed his bulge through his black sweatpants as he moved closer to Camille’s side of the bed. With a better view of the slumbering princess, Terry's eyes wandered to Camille’s pussy, tucked away from his sight by a lacy white thong, a present he ached to open. As if in a trance, Terry crouched down to run his gloved thumb over the waistband of Camille’s panties, careful not to awaken her.

You have no idea what you do to me, he thought, hooking a finger into the lacy fabric. His eyes snapped toward her face as he began to slowly tug the garment down. He was halfway down her thighs when she stirred, whimpering lightly. Everything in him froze except his dick. His dick twitched as he replayed the sweet sound in his head. Camille’s brows furrowed momentarily, but her face relaxed and her eyes remained closed. Terry waited a beat to make sure she was still asleep. But has dick, heavy with excitement, beckoned him to continue removing her panties. So as swiftly as he could, Terry pulled the small fabric over her knees, down to her ankles, and then carefully slipped them past her feet. In a frenzy, Terry tugged the ski mask below his mouth and pulled the souvenir to his nose, inhaling deeply. Drool slid past his lips as he breathed in her scent. He held back a feral rumble in his chest, feeling his eyes flicker from their usual blue-gray to a deep red. Now isn't the time to lose control, he thought, suppressing the darkest parts of himself. With a shake of his head, he tucked Camille’s panties into the pocket of his sweatpants, sending another shockwave through his lower region.

He backed away from Camille’s side of the bed, his eyes never leaving her sweet face. He was just about to pivot to walk back into the living area. But he heard the slightest vibration from the left side of the room. Terry cocked his head to the side and zeroed in his focus on the phone on McCoy's nightstand. What kind of notifications could he be getting at two in the morning? He swiftly moved towards the phone, gently picking it up. He flipped it so the screen faced him and began to read the series of notifications. Banners from DraftKings, FanDuel, Prizepicks and other betting apps displayed several different messages:

Bet $20 and get 3x back on earnings!

Hurry now to get $1000 in casino bonuses!

Bet now, get instant deposit on all earnings!

Terry chuckled lightly, his eyes flickering to McCoy and Camille to briefly check if they heard him. They hadn’t. So you’re a gambling addict huh, he grinned widely as he glanced down at Aston. I can definitely work with that. Terry carefully returned the phone to its original position. Then he crossed the room once more, returning to Camille's side. He hummed slightly as he softly gripped her right leg, adjusting it to give him a perfect view of her now exposed pussy. Camille sighed slightly, shifting onto her side, unknowingly moving closer to Terry. Terry smirked, kneeling so his head was at the same level as hers. “Don’t worry, baby. You’ll be all mine soon enough,” he whispered, hoping that his words slipped into her dreams. She sighed in response, still in a deep slumber. With a final scan of her face, Terry pulled his ski mask back over nose, shoved his hands into his pockets, and turned to leave the bedroom. He grinned wildly as he began to conjure up the most sinister and wicked ideas to get Camille DeWaterson into his arms and into his bed… forever.

[rawflwrs]

BLURB / 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???

[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

[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

[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

[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

[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.

[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.”

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[violetmuses]

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[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.

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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”

[simplyzeeka]

Am I crazy? Should I do it? I've been thinking of cowboy Terry for a while now...

All images from Pinterest! Do not steal, repost as your own or copy.

Cover and collage made from canva.

[megamindsecretlair]

Fn tore this up. I thoroughly enjoyed this whole gd movie in my head. I cant wait for more 👀

You captured an entire vibe here. Reign has my whole heart. And Terry 😭😭 all that pain. Lawdt. This was so fn good, ill be here all night pointing out everything good here!

Just know that I love you and I will be first in line for that book you write 🙌🏽

She felt like a butterfly in an empty jar. Delicate, exposed, with nowhere to hide.

One of many great lines! But this was so poetic and so succinct. Its visual asf 🤌🏽🤌🏽🤌🏽

You did that! 🙌🏽🙌🏽🙌🏽🙌🏽

Take You There

A/N: I’ve been hearing in the streets that some of yall are tired of smut 👀 (my specialty 🥲) so I present you with a slow burn. I’m not sure just yet how many chapters there will be, and I don’t know how or why this idea came to me but I’ve fallen in love with the story. I also desperately need practice writing stuff other than porn because I have dreams of being a published author some day soooo all feedback is highly appreciated 💕 

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Reign Adisa (black female OC)

Summary: Terry gets inspired in so many ways by a tattoo artist. 

Warning: fluffy and angsty, no smut here so rated E

Length: This mf is 4.1k words long 😮‍💨🥴 my fault

Chapter 1

Wednesdays felt like her secret sanctuary, a rare calm in the whirlwind of her week. Most days, Reign’s life as a young Black woman running a buzzing tattoo studio in the heart of downtown Houston was anything but quiet—ink-stained hands, constant chatter, the hum of machines. Yet, in this moment, she savored the peaceful lull. 

The community had embraced her with open arms, offering support, admiration, and more appointments than she ever imagined this early on. Clients lined up months in advance, eager to wear her art, while others knocked at her door with résumés in hand. Reign was already on the hunt for three more artists to keep up with the demand. It’s been a blessing, but it’s also been overwhelming. 

So Wednesdays, Reign doesn’t take any appointments or walk-ins, she just comes to her studio to create, conjuring up beautifully original pieces to present to the world. Wednesdays helped her stay grounded so she didn’t lose herself in the fast pace of her career. They helped her hold on to her love and passion for her craft, it’s a necessity for her success as an artist. 

Her studio was a reflection of her soul—beautiful, grounded, and something she took immense pride in. She had stumbled upon the space by chance, walking through the warehouse district one sunny afternoon. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed by smooth cement walls flooded the open floor plan with light, offering her the creative freedom to shape the space however she desired. Now, a vibrant neon orange sign reading "Lotus Tattoo" glowed outside, inviting passersby. Inside, the walls were adorned with art from local artists, while plush oriental rugs softened the industrial feel. Scattered lamps cast a warm glow in the evening, and cozy seating areas and lush plants created a relaxed vibe. Bamboo room dividers separated the space for other artists yet to join her.

Today she walked in and began her routine that now felt more like a spiritual ritual which transported her to another world. Opening the velvet mauve curtains to let the morning light in, lighting incense throughout the space to cleanse the energy, turn on her brown sugar playlist so soft r&b can set the vibe, and opening the wide glass garage door at the back of the studio to let the cool autumn breeze in.

She took off her crochet cardigan which matched her shorts, rolled up the sleeves to her cropped Anderson Paak shirt, and swirled her copper highlighted braids into a messy bun. Pushing her glasses further up her nose, she sat at her desk and hunched over her iPad, biting her pen as she imaged how to bring more texture to the hair of the Caribbean mermaid she was working on. 

~~~~~~~~

Terry’s legs couldn’t stay still, pacing the length of his apartment like a caged animal. The space felt suffocatingly small, no matter how impressive the view of the city spread out below him. The constant barrage of honking horns and blaring sirens seeped in through the open window, filling his head with a cacophony that grated against his nerves. Overstimulated didn’t even begin to cover it. He let out a sharp breath, the simmering rage beneath his skin threatening to boil over. He hadn’t always been this tightly wound—once upon a time, people called him easygoing. But things had changed. He had changed.

He shoved his AirPods in, cranking the volume of "Killing in the Name Of” until the defiant shouts and pounding drums drowned out the noise in his head. As the music pulsed through him, he stormed out of his place, locking the door behind him with a sharp click. Instead of heading toward the elevator, he veered toward the stairwell, taking the five flights down two steps at a time, as if the rapid movement could outrun the memories chasing him.

Sure, everything had worked out on paper—the Shelby Springs police department was under investigation, the chief and a dozen corrupt cops were behind bars. Cases were being reopened, and lawyers from across the country were flocking to defend the victims of that backwoods nightmare. Hell, Terry had even won half a million in his lawsuit against the city. But what did it all matter? Mike was still gone. After pouring everything he had into saving his cousin, Terry was left with nothing but an empty victory and a gnawing sense of purposelessness. Lost, adrift, and suffocating beneath the weight of survivor’s guilt, he couldn’t shake the question that haunted him: At what cost?

As he exited his building, the midday sun greeted him with a mocking cheerfulness, bright and all consuming. Terry scowled, keeping his squinting eyes glued to the uneven ground beneath his feet as he mindlessly walked the downtown streets. He was so wrapped up in his disdain for life that he missed how people moved out of the way of his hulking form, how cops perusing the streets eyed him suspiciously, how birds scurried away from the sound of his thundering footsteps. 

He walked for 20 minutes in a straight line before his mind finally went numb enough for him to take in his surroundings. He wasn’t far at all from his home, but this side of the downtown had a different feel to it. The buildings were shorter and wider, the foot traffic was less obnoxious, and beautiful graffiti covered almost every wall. He spotted a building that stood out amongst the others with its pristine alabaster paint over the cement and its glowing neon sign. “Lotus Tattoo”.

It had been months since Mike passed, but the thought of getting something permanent to honor him had crossed Terry’s mind more than once—though he didn’t need ink to remind him of Mike’s infectious laugh or goofy grin. As he approached the tattoo shop, he slowed, his fingers brushing the door handle. He gave it a tug but stopped when he felt resistance—it was locked. For a moment, he considered walking away, but movement deeper inside the studio caught his eye. He lingered, torn between retreating and pressing on, before finally deciding to make his way around the back, curiosity quietly pulling him forward.

~~~~~~~~

She doesn’t hear him walk in through the open garage door, so immersed in perfecting the fine details before her, and Terry doesn’t wish to bring attention to himself just yet. He takes soundless steps into her studio, as if the building itself was emitting a peace so relieving that he could feel the pressure of anxiety roll right off his shoulders. He took a deep breath in, nose filling with the earthy scent of warm patchouli and sweet jasmine. Walking further into her domain, his eyes bright with curiosity take in his surroundings-a chipped and loved on mug, the soft rug blanketing his steps, the petal shaped ceiling fans whirling quietly, and he chuckled silently at her grumbles to herself.

He instinctively removed his AirPods and put them in their case, snapping the lid shut and startling the both of them. Reign straightened her back with a gasp, turning so sharply on her stool that her glasses flew off her face and she toppled over, just barely catching herself in a clumsy fighting stance, knees knocked and hands in awkwardly placed fists. Terry, for what its worth, looked like a deer caught munching in the farmers garden, pupils blown almost wide enough to cover the steel gray, mouth open in a shocked ‘o’, eyebrow twitching from trying not to laugh at her horrible stance and the fact that her glasses slid right to his feet.

“Um…” Terry didn’t know what to say as he raised his palms to her, trying to appear harmless, “I was wondering…do you take walk-ins?” Reign let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding and placed a hand over her thudding heart, standing more relaxed but still on guard.

“You almost scared me to death! Yes um-“ she squinted at the ground next to her, trying to find her glasses, “-um yes, normally I do, just not Wednesdays-“ she was caught off guard again feeling a warm hand on her shoulder. When had he even moved? 

Terry stood so close that her nose brushed his shirt as she tilted her head to look up at him. He gave her a ghost of a smile and brought her glasses to rest on her nose, pushing her loose braids back behind her ears and studying her. “There.” His voice was so deep that she couldn’t tell if the goosebumps erupting on her skin was from the sound of it, or from being so close to him. 

They stared at each other a moment longer, him admiring her gold septum nose ring against her beautiful mahogany skin, and her eyes darting between his plump lips and striking eyes. Terry finally cleared his throat and took a large step back, raising a brow at her. Reign blinked away the haze he’d created, her voice coming out high and breathless.

“I do take walk-ins! Not normally on Wednesdays, but what were you wanting to get?” Terry looked away thinking, and Reign used that as an excuse to look him over once more, eyes roaming his heavily toned muscles. He was undeniably handsome, like fine as hell handsome.

He looked back at her and she tried not to squirm under his gaze. “I want to get something for my cousin, today was his birthday.” she watched his eyes darken to a murky green as his expression turned somber, “I’m thinking like 2 fists bumping together, can you do that?”

Reign bit her lip in contemplation and Terry’s eyes darkened even further following that movement. “I can, let me just draw up something for you. It shouldn’t take too long, how much time have you got today?” He gave her another ghost of a smile. 

“I’m all yours. I’m Terry by the way, you own this place?” She shook his extended hand and quickly pulled hers back, feeling heat rise to her ears and cheeks.

“Reign, nice to meet you Terry. And yup, only been in this studio a few months. I was working out of my home before.” His eyes were piercing, she felt see through, and turned back to her desk to start drawing something for him. “Gimme like 15, feel free to look around!” She called over her shoulder, and it took Terry a moment to move, far too interested in watching her. 

He walked around her space with purposefully loud steps, mindful of not startling her again and glancing at her every once in a while. He picked up a binder from a floating shelf in front of him, flipping through the pages to see her drawings and creative polaroids of her work. He found himself drawn to her black and white pieces, struck by how realistic her portraits are. He flipped through more and more pages hoping to understand how her mind works, how she was able to capture a moment in time so realistically.

“Terry!” Her voice calling out to him had him coming to her immediately, surprisingly eager to be used as her next canvas. “What do you think?” She put her iPad in his hands and he listened as she explained what she wanted to do with the shadows and fading around the edges, but his mind was going back to the last time he fist bumped Mike, the last time he saw him alive.

“It’s perfect.” His voice was tight with emotions and Reign watched his jaw tick at holding back all the things he wanted to say. She wondered earlier if she’d regret taking work on her off day, but sensing the grief coming from this man, it must’ve been divine timing that sent him to her today.

“I’m glad you like it. Why don’t you show me what size you want and where you’d like it?” Terry nodded and started taking off his shirt, and Reign took a surprised step back watching his body flex. He somehow looked even bigger now. She schooled her expression to be professionally indifferent as Terry pointed to his right pec, opposite his heart. 

“Here, and this big” he measured it out with his hands and Reign gave an awkward thumbs up, not trusting her voice just yet. She turned to print the stencil out for him and cleared her throat.

“Okay, we can do that. For that size my rate is-“

“I’ll pay whatever you want. I’m grateful you took me in on your day off.” Reign shyly glanced back at him over her shoulder and locked eyes with his very earnest ones. She gave him a small smile and continued on to prepare everything she’d need. 

Terry watched her steady gloved hands come up to gently press the wet stencil onto his skin, he bent his legs slightly to make it easier for her, and she whispered out a thanks. He didn’t say anything, transfixed by her presence, her gentleness, the sweet jasmine scent he realized was coming from her. He unintentionally flexed his muscles under her touch and watched her swallow tensely. He wasn’t unaware of his effect on women, but he liked that she was actively trying to remain professional. It was cute. 

“You wanna take a look before we start?” Terry nodded and she showed him to a mirror, standing behind him and off to the side, watching his face for any signs of dissatisfaction. She finally got a genuine smile from him, tiny but meaningful, as his eyes gleamed at the outline of the fists on his chest.

“I love it” he turned to her and she could see the smile had actually reached his eyes, and she returned it right back to him “I’m ready.”

~~~~~~~~

Terry, reclined in the comfortable leather seat, swept his eyes over Reign’s decorated skin while she worked on him, taking in the mismatched beauty and history of her story. “Did you do any of these yourself?” He asked quietly, referring to the artwork scattered on her body.

She pulled back from his arm to get more ink and glanced up at his face giving him a secretive grin. She was becoming addicted to his voice. It’s so deep, and quiet. There’s a heavy bass to it that could’ve been intimidating and over powering, but she could tell he’s choosing to be gentle and laid back. It was creating a growing intimacy between them that she hoped he felt too. 

“Mhm I did a few of these” she replied distractedly, now focused on putting more ink on her needle. 

“Which ones?” She liked his curiosity, and liked that he wanted to talk.

“Hmm I did this one on my thigh” she said offhandedly, now getting back to work, the hypnotic buzzing filling the space again.

He studied the imposing and fierce Medusa taking up most of her thigh, some of the snakes cut off by her shorts. The details were amazing, it almost looked like a Greek statue. Terry was impressed she did it upside down and it still looked stunning. 

He hesitated a moment, not wanting to upset the tranquil environment she’d created, but he wanted to know more of her story, now privy to the fact that the both of them have a painful past. He wants to know how she got to this point of inner peace, he wants to get there too. 

“Is it true?…what they say about Medusa tattoos?” She blinked at his question and her hands stilled, caught off guard, having gotten lost in the music still playing and the buzzing of her gun and the black ink on his smooth skin. 

Reign’s teeth worried her lip, biting and pulling as she debated whether to answer that or not. She chanced a look at his face and his piercing eyes locked with hers. She felt like a butterfly in an empty jar. Delicate, exposed, with nowhere to hide. Not everyone gets a Medusa tattoo for the same reason, but she knew exactly what he meant. She simply nodded and refocused her attention to the veins of the fist she’s crafting.

She continued working and missed the dark shadow that fell over his face. He was trying not to imagine what the sorry excuse for a human did to her, he was trying to ignore the urge to bring the matters of justice into his own hands. He was well equipped with delivering justice, and something about her let him know that she deserved her vengeance. She saw his fist clench from the corner of her eye, and she told herself he was reacting to the carve of the needle in his skin, not the weight of her truth. 

“I’m sorry that’s part of your story.” She gave him a surprised little grin, taking note of the gruffness in his voice she’d heard before.

“It’s not your fault. Besides, every protagonist experiences canon events. If this hadn’t been part of my story, I might not have this passion for creating safe spaces for people.” He stared at her face, her brows slightly furrowed and tongue just barely peeking out of the corner of her mouth. Most of her attention was on marking him with pristine lines, so her honesty flowed from her unfiltered. 

He took in the entirety of her studio again with a new perspective. The healing warmth of the sun seeping in, the calming music lulling him into a state of serenity, the sectioned off booths that created some privacy for her clients but not so much that they feel caged in, the art on the walls depicting black love and black excellence. Damn. She did a hell of a good job creating lightness when the world can be so dark. He found that inspiring.

He wanted to ask her more but “Take You There” began to play from her speakers, and her voice softly hummed along, she was lost in her own world and he was happy to let her be. It was interesting watching her work. She seemed reserved and shy speaking with him before, but now her hands moved confidently, her expressions changed as she concentrated, her scent was positively intoxicating and her braids tickled his skin every time she moved her face closer to his body. 

The pain grew more intense as she shaded a particularly sensitive spot above his nipple, and Terry groaned quietly, tightly closing his eyes and leaning his head back to rest on the seat. 

“I know I know, I’m sorry” Reigned murmured barely being heard above the sound of the tattoo gun, “You’re doing so well though Terry.” 

He tried not to react to that, but the mix of the pain keeping him grounded to her, and her sweet voice, it was getting to him. He hoped she didn’t look down any time soon. She had to roughly wipe the excess ink away from his skin before continuing, and he instinctively hissed at her through his teeth.

“I know soldier, we’ll be done soon” his eyes flew open at that and she paused to get more ink, looking him over. “I noticed the work on your arms. I’ve given my fair share of military tats” He nodded, forehead slightly damp from this whole ordeal.

“Do you wanna tell me about this one we’re doing today? Just if you’d like to share, I’ll be done in about an hour.” He didn’t say anything at first, just taking a quiet moment to feel the influx of emotions that bombarded him today, and she didn’t push him. Then he began to speak, gingerly revealing what happened in Shelby Springs, compelled by her peace to find healing in this moment. His eyes were clouded over, lost in the turmoil of his past, that he missed her frown of recognition. She’d heard about the horrors going on there in the news. Her heart ached for him.

She let him talk, and she listened intently as she worked, nodding and humming every now and then. He grew quiet and his whole face softened with his eyes closed as Reign drowned his freshly completed tattoo in the cold saline solution, gently wiping and repeating the process a few times.

She gave him a sad smile, so many thoughts swimming behind her eyes as she cleared the emotion from her throat before speaking. “All done” she tossed her gloves in the trash can, “lets go take a look.” She stood first, bending and stretching, her back popping from where it was curled over his body. Terry followed suit slowly, standing to his full height and stretching his arms over his head. 

Reign looked away quickly, walking over to the mirror to wait for him, begging her hormones to relax. This was not the time nor the place for this, he’s a new client for fucks sake. She shook her braids out of their messy bun to relieve the tension in her neck as she watched him approach from his reflection in the mirror. He eyed her form appreciatively, not at all subtle about it either, and she played with her hands, trying not to feel so small next to him. 

His eyes finally landed on his tattoo and immediately tears filled them. He hung his head silently as the tears fell down his cheeks and Reign panicked, not knowing what to do or say to help. She stepped closer, letting instinct guide her hand to gently rub his upper back. She peered around his body, trying to get a glimpse of his face in the mirror, and she watched his chest heave one deep shuddering breath. He brought big palms up to wipe his face before he looked up again, keeping her rooted to the spot with his sincere gaze. 

“Thank you.” his voice was so deep and swimming with emotions, and she felt a lump swelling in her own throat. He wanted to say so much more, but he couldn’t at this moment, feeling a dam break within him. He just stared at her, imploring her with his eyes to understand the impact of what she’d gifted him. 

She nodded, rubbing his back one last time before stepping away from him. “You’re most welcome Terry, thank you for trusting me with your story.” It was his turn to nod, he couldn’t take his eyes off of her.  She turned away from him and went to find the wrap she would use to cover the tattoo, giving him some privacy with this new piece of his cousin he’d carry around with him forever. 

He made his way back to her when he was ready, and she began the quick process of covering his tattoo in protective wrap, explaining how to take care of it and telling him all the things he shouldn’t do in the next few days. Terry shrugged his shirt back on as she cleaned up the area they occupied, and he could fill a pit form in his stomach. He was hooked on her already, and the thought of leaving her so soon was bringing back the empty feeling he thought he’d left on the outside of her haven.

He sent her his payment from his phone, including an incredibly generous tip, and cut her off as she began to protest being paid double what she’d expected.

“I’d like to take you to dinner, Reign.” She froze, rich brown eyes wide behind her lenses. He kept going at her hesitation, “I’m pretty new to the city, and I haven’t met anyone worth knowing here until you.” He stepped closer, invading her senses with his provocative woody scent. “I’d love for you to show me all the places that make you happy, and I heard the quickest way to anyone's heart is through the stomach.” 

Reign smiled at that, it somehow wasn’t corny coming from such a fine ass man. “You got me there soldier” Terry smiled back to her and took her phone from her grasp, placing his number in it and shooting himself a text. He looked at her from underneath his lashes giving the phone back, and she swore she felt her knees buckle at the devilishly playful glint in his eyes.

“Is tomorrow night too soon?” She couldn’t resist his deep voice and overwhelming presence even if she wanted to, and her body had been growing warmer and warmer the longer he stayed in her space.

“I-I can make time for you” she stuttered embarrassingly at feeling the rough pad of his finger brushing her ear as he moved a braid out of her face.

“Good.” He walked backwards from her, hands in his pockets which seemed to make his biceps bulge, and he smiled softly at her “I’ll see you tomorrow pretty Reign.” he turned and she watched him saunter out the back of her studio, her breath returning to her when he was no longer in sight.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fuuuuck I didn't realize writing something without sex in it was so hard 😅 idk if I have the stamina for a slow burn but I will certainly try, just know that the smut will come with a damn vengeance! Please let me know what you think! this is my first time doing an original character 🥲💕

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