#aaronpierre

[imperfectlyxangelic]

Some screenshots of Aaron as Malcolm X

via: andersonjaxofficial (Pinterest)

[alldthoughtsinmyhead]

Dawn

Summary: Your pregnancy craving is your husband, Terry. A one-shot.

(I'm probably going to compile all these Terry and pregnant reader stories into a book called The Pregnancy Chronicles or some corny shii like that lol.)

Warning: smut.

It’s almost dawn. Your body stirs as the room grows colder. It had been hot all night, and you’d had no choice but to sleep naked. Now, your heavy, engorged breasts and round, full belly lie exposed as you rest on your side.

Pregnancy came with its share of discomforts; being unable to tolerate heat was one of them. Pushing your husband away when he tried to touch you because your skin was burning up was another.

As you drift closer to wakefulness, you listen to his even breathing. Your heart softens at the sound — this beautiful, understanding man you married.

Since the pregnancy began, you’ve watched him grow increasingly attached to you. Your pregnant body drives him wild. You see it in the subtle ways he brushes his hardness against your backside at the oddest moments, in how his gaze lingers on your swollen breasts mid-conversation, and in the way he grabs your thighs and nuzzles your neck when you’re curled up on the couch together.

You’re a constant distraction to him — and it’s just as well, because you crave him just as much. By your third trimester, you found it hard to be away from him for too long. You needed to see him, touch him, hear his voice, or else the panic would creep in. By your fifth month, he’d moved his work into the home office just to be near you. That was when things truly spiraled.

You’d abandon laundry halfway just to barge into his office and ride him. He’d leave his desk just to feed you his juice straight from the source. Some afternoons, you’d sit in his lap and watch him type while he fingered you — slow, deep — until you were trembling and whimpering, then he'd bend you over his chair and finish the job with his dick.

There were days you'd sit on his desk. Legs wide open, playing with your coochie while he watched and stroked himself to the rhythm of your fingers. You were insatiable, and he matched your freak.

He’d wanted to make love to you last night, but you’d turned him down. He understood, gave you space, and let you rest. But now, with the chill creeping in, all you can think about is his warmth...from the inside out.

You shift your hips, pushing your backside against him until you feel the solid heat of his body pressing back.

He stirs, a low groan rumbling in his chest as his arm tightens around your waist. His morning wood nudges against your ass, thick and eager, already straining through his boxers. You know he’s barely awake, but his body always knows what to do with yours.

“Mm,” he murmurs, voice still raspy with sleep. “You okay, baby?”

“I’m cold,” you whisper, pressing your ass harder against him.

He grunts softly, sliding his hand over the curve of your belly, then lower, tracing the line of your hip. His fingers splay there, anchoring you to him. You feel his cock twitch against your skin, growing harder by the second.

“I missed you last night,” he says, mouth grazing your shoulder. “Let me warm you up.”

You don’t answer — you just guide his hand down between your thighs. He groans again when he feels how warm and slick you already are.

“Fuck,” he breathes, his fingers dipping into your wetness. “You’ve been waiting for me.”

He strokes you slowly, lazily, like he’s savoring it. One long finger glides through your folds, circling your clit before slipping inside. You exhale shakily, your hips rolling against his hand.

“More,” you whisper.

He doesn’t make you ask twice. Another finger slides in beside the first, stretching you gently. His fingers curl inside you just right, finding that sweet spot with practiced ease. His thumb rubs circles on your clit, unhurried but firm.

Your breath hitches. Your thighs tremble.

“That’s it,” he murmurs into your hair. “Take it, baby. Let me feel you melt for me.”

You grind back against him, needy now. Your body is on fire, clenching around his fingers, aching for more than just his hand. You need to feel him — all of him — pressing into the ache that's been building since dawn.

He pulls his fingers out and strokes them over your entrance, teasing you as he shifts closer. You reach back and slide your hand inside his boxers, wrapping your fingers around his meat. He’s hot, thick, and pulsing in your palm.

You lift your leg and tilt your hips, opening yourself to him. He groans and lines himself up, his tip brushing against your slick folds. Slowly, he pushes in.

You gasp — every inch stretches you open, taking him. He sinks into you with a low, guttural sound, pressing his chest to your back, his arms around your middle, his breath hot against your neck.

“God, you feel so good,” he murmurs. “So full of me already.”

He starts to move — slow, deliberate thrusts that grind into you from behind. Each one sends heat coiling low in your belly. His hand cups your breast, fingers toying with your nipple as he fucks you with slow, deep strokes.

“You were made for this,” he whispers, voice thick with awe. “Made to take me. Look at you, swollen, glowing, full of life and still so fucking tight.”

You whimper, every nerve alight. The friction, the fullness, the way his body cages yours — it’s all too much.

Your orgasm builds sharp and fast, and when it crashes over you, it knocks the breath from your lungs.

Your body clenches around him, and he groans deep, thrusting harder now, chasing his own release. His fingers tighten on your hips as he drives into you, rougher, faster, until with a final growl he spills into you, pulsing deep inside.

The room goes still except for your panting breaths.

He kisses your shoulder. “Still cold?”

You smile, blissed out and sore in the best way. “Not even a little.”

[uninterruptedafricans]

I LITERALLY CAN NOT 🥰 Too Damn Cute!

[kumkaniudaku]

🫦

[thedaze15]

Body tea pt 2. 🫦✨

[ranikyani]

You Don’t Know My Name

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black Reader MDNI.

Summary: Terry comes into your diner every. single. day. He don't even know what he's doing to you. Or does he?

Word count: 6.4k. This is a one shot with no planned sequel.

A/N: Got this idea from that tiktok from the mufasa premiere... (yall know which one I'm talking about)

You enter the diner at 6 am sharp, the rising sun hasn’t even started lighting the morning sky just yet. As always, you start the coffee, unlock the back door for the delivery drivers, and set off to work. In the back of your mind you hear your best friend cussing you for having the doors unlocked knowing you’ll be alone for at least 20 minutes before your coworkers start showing up. But in a busy city like this, the yns are still sleep, and anyone awake at this hour is too focused on their own hustle to rob you. 

The night crew, per usual, has done a shitty job closing. You wipe down tables, and do another sweep of the floor, finding balled up napkins from last night’s patrons wedged along the floor where the metal trim of the booths meets the piano stick tile on the floor. Grabbing the mop, you make a mental note to ask your manager Natalie, Who closed last night?

One by one, your coworkers filter in as you continue to prep and refill the condiment stations. Marcus and Sydney stroll in exactly 5 minutes apart just as they did yesterday, and the day before that. They think no one else in the morning crew can tell they’re together, but you can, and they’re doing a terrible job hiding it. You just don’t care enough to say anything and blow their spot. Then comes Natalie, looking like she just rolled out of bed but still managing to somewhat look put together. You both exchange a quick hello and she starts wiping down the counters picking up where you left off. Alicia is the last to arrive, much later than the rest, breezing through the door with her signature braids underneath her hair net. 

“Hey, you’re early today,” she teases as if you aren’t always the first to arrive, tossing her jean jacket on the employee coat rack. 

“Had to get the place ready for all my customers,” you reply with a smirk, knowing full well it’s just you, her, and one other waiter for the early shift. Every time the other servers call themselves “helping” you set up booths before opening, your customers end up complaining about something missing or out of place, it’s just easier to do it yourself.  

You finish making sure the tables look good and walk the perimeter of the diner to ensure everything is set. At 7 o’clock on the dot, just as you’re putting the finishing touches on the napkin dispensers, you hear the soft jingle of the doorbell. 

It’s him. 

Terry Richmond. 

Alicia leans over the counter to you, her voice low and amused, “Here comes your man” 

A Man. In every sense of the word. 

As a regular, Terry knows the drill. The hostess doesn’t bother seating him or giving him the standard greeting of offering today’s specials, she just smiles as he heads straight for your section like he does every morning. The other waiters learned long ago, don’t even try it. He’s yours, unspoken amongst you but understood by all. 

The air thickens as soon as the door closes behind him, like everyone in the diner is holding their breath. You can hear the other women stifle their sighs, trying not to moan at the sight of him. Everyone in the room freezes for a moment, drawn to him without even meaning to. Even Marcus who doesn’t pay anything but his latest kitchen experiment any mind, glances up for a moment. You’ve seen Terry a hundred times at this point, but each time feels like the first. He moves through the dining area with the kind of confidence that just fills a space without trying. His eyes sweep over the room, scanning each face and offering a light smile and the occasional ‘hello’, but when they land on you. They stay there. 

You can feel the weight of his gaze as it meets yours and unlike every other woman in the diner gawking, frozen in place while admiring him, you try to keep busy offering a small smile in return. You try to focus on what you were doing, but you can’t help it. Terry Richmond has that effect. The man commands attention.  

He gives you a small nod and takes his usual spot in your section peeling his tan carhartt detroit jacket off of his broad shoulders before sitting down. He sits down, newspaper in hand, breaking eye contact and giving you just enough time to gather your composure. He doesn’t need to ask for a menu, he’s been here enough to know exactly what he wants. You approach his table, trying to keep your cool and softly smack down a stack of napkins you know he’ll need once his meal arrives.

“Good morning, the usual?” You ask while pouring hot black coffee from the steel carafe into a mug you’ve sat down for him as well.

“Yes Ma’am” he responds eagerly, looking up briefly from the morning paper to flash you that beautiful smile. It’s striking how his serious, focused expression as he reads today’s current events, contracts with the warm smile he gives when flashing every tooth in his mouth. It’s too captivating, that smile should come with a fucking warning label. 

You make your way back to the kitchen to give the staff Terry’s order ticket being mindful of each step you take in your chef crocs, just in case he’s watching. You don’t want him to catch you slipping, literally, the floor behind the counter gets dangerous. His order is simple, a classic diner breakfast, 2 scrambled eggs, no cheese, double turkey bacon instead of sausage, and a side of well-done breakfast potatoes with extra bell peppers and onions. You try not to think too much about the man in your booth, but he’s hard to ignore, the way he looks at you with that quiet intensity in his eyes, the way his muscles flex with a motion as simple as flipping to the next page of the paper, the way his thick thighs and ass fill out the cargo pants he always chooses to wear, the way he always sits with his legs wide open to accommodate the size of that dic-

No. 

Shaking it off, you turn your attention to the other customers, who’ve started tickling in to grab a little something before they head off to work as well. You check on them, make small talk, and go around to refill drinks well before they’re half way empty, anything to keep yourself distracted. The kitchen hums behind you, and the familiar buzz of the diner settles your nerves, for a moment. 

Ding. 

You jump slightly as the bell above the kitchen door rings, signaling Terry’s order is ready. You grab the plate quickly, making sure everything is just right before you head back to his booth carrying his plate and the coffee filled carafe with quick and practiced motion. You gently sit his plate down and refill his coffee silently, no need for small talk, just get it done and move on. 

As usual, his debit card is sitting face down on the table, the numbers hidden from other guests passing by, just waiting for you to slip it into your apron pocket. You’ll charge him and bring his receipt as soon as he’s done eating, making sure he’s out the door and on his way to work. It’s an effective system the two of you came up with to keep things moving, so he never ends up late, even if the register backs up. 

You walk back behind the counter, but your gaze lingers on Terry as he digs into his meal. There’s something almost mesmerizing about the way he eats, the way his jaw flexes with each chew. Jesus. Its too much and its too early. 

His strong hands grip the fork, it looks so tiny in comparison to his paws, and your mind wanders, imagining those hands on you. How he could hurt you but he’d never do that unless you said please.  

His lips part with each bite, just enough to make you wonder what those lips would feel like pressed against yours, or what they’d taste like covered in your essence if he’d just eat you out, ask you out. 

Then, as he’s taking a bite of his potatoes a small drop of ketchup builds on the corner of his mouth. Instinctually, his tongue flicks out swiftly to lick it clean. The motion is so smooth, so effortless, it takes everything in you not to gasp. He’s a serious eater, you can just tell you’ve always had a knack for being able to smell a munch from a mile away. 

As if he’s a mind reader, just as you take a step forward, tempted to let him know you’d like to find out what that mouth do, he looks up from his plate toward you forcing you to pull it together. Immediately losing the courage your trance bestowed that had you about to head his way, you leap forward in to pour more coffee from your carafe in Mr. Johnson’s cup in an attempt to look busy.

Does he even know my name? You wonder

He occasionally glances out the window, constantly assessing new customers entering the building through the side ramp. Every subtle shift of his muscles beneath the dark shirt he’s wearing is a reminder of just how well put together he is. 

Damn. 

The way he carries himself, the strength in every movement, he’s dangerous, and you want to be in danger. 

You can’t stop thinking about it, and you lick your lips imagining how he’d feel under your hands as you rode him until the cows came home, or until he came, at least twice.  

You can almost feel the heat of his skin, as if you’re sitting with him right now, the weight of him pressing you into the corner of the booth, his breath hot against your neck as he leans in… 

Your breath hitches, and you dart to the other end of the counter taking newfound interest in the salt shakers to break the spell before your thoughts get too filthy. You’re supposed to be working. 

Flustered, and seeing as though you just filled them this morning, you turn toward the kitchen, the heat in your cheeks evidence of the unholy fantasies you’re trying to suppress fighting to break free.  

As Terry’s plate nears empty you head to the machine and punch in the total with practiced ease. $15.87 same as always and swipe his card into the machine. You grab a tray and a pen, ready to return to the booth with his card and receipt, but your chest feels tight. The thoughts you’ve been thinking swirling around in your head.

Ask him out, your inner voice tells you. 

You make your way closer with your heart beating a little faster than usual. This isn’t the first time you’ve caught yourself fantasizing about him, but this time feels different. You’ve been making excuses every time he comes in to avoid this moment, but today? You can’t ignore the pull of your attraction to him any longer. You’ve had enough. 

“Uh… Mr. Richmond?” you say, your voice coming out softer than intended. 

You can’t stop your hands from nervously fiddling with the edge of his card, and you try your best to focus. You can do this. 

He looks up at you, those beautiful green eyes meeting yours, but he notices your hands fidgeting and assumes there’s a problem with his payment. He shifts his weight to his right hip and leans forward to reach into his back pocket and pull out his wallet. 

“I keep my card locked up,” he explains casually, his deep voice steady, “just to stay safe. Had someone try to run a $800 charge at a Home Depot in Texas last week. I ordered a new card but I’m still a little annoyed about it.” He chuckles, running a hand forward over his waves “I swore I unlocked it, though.”

You smile at his explanation, but you're distracted by the way his perfectly manicured and never dirty hands move with precision regardless of what he’s doing. And wonder how they would feel inside of you. 

He pulls a crispy $50 bill from his wallet, his fingers causing the paper to crumple under his touch, and hands it to you with a small smirk. 

“I’ve got money, I swear” he states with a playful glance. 

“Oh, it went through Mr. Richmond,” you say, placing his money back on the table. 

“Here’s your receipt, just sign at the bottom. The extra copy is for you, sir.”

His gaze lingers on you for a moment longer than necessary, as if weighing something in his mind. 

"I would've stayed here with you and washed all the dishes, I could’ve taken out the trash too to work off my meal, but then I’d definitely be late for my first patrol. I’m working a double shift today."

You swallow hard, feeling heat creep up your neck as you think of this man carrying all the discarded boxes out back. Shirtless… Sweaty…

Focus! You tell yourself.  Don’t back out now. 

“Shame. I would have definitely found something for you to do” you blurt before you can stop yourself, the words just slipped out.

That is not what you were planning to say. 

His brow furrows slightly, a confused look flickering across his face. “What was that?” he asks

“Oh… Nothing…I just meant…” you pause to gather your thoughts but before you can find your words, the sound of raised voices outside rip through the calm atmosphere inside the diner.

You glance out the window to see two familiar regulars, both younger men, standing on the ramp outside of the window arguing. It’s hard to make out their muffled voices and determine what the fight is about but it’s clear they’re not backing down. 

“Excuse me,” he says, heading for the door.

Without a second thought, Terry stands up, his broad shoulders shifting under his shirt as he moves toward the door. His body seems to take up more space with each step, and the yelling outside grows louder once he cracks open the glass door to walk outside.

From where you're standing, you can see him step between the two men, his movements smooth, deliberate, like he’s done this a hundred times before. There’s a quiet authority in the way he stands, clasping his hands in front with his feet shoulder length apart, something you’ve only ever seen in action movies, where the hero arrives to save the day. His eyes narrow with a cold, unspoken warning, something raw and powerful that says, Fuck around and find out.

He mutters something to the men, just loud enough for them to hear. You can’t make out the words, but the effect is instant and they stumble back, silenced, cowed by the sheer force of his presence.

Still by the booth, you watch, captivated, as he commands the scene and sends them on their way with nothing more than a steady gaze and his natural poise. His stance is solid, unwavering. And you? You're breathless, caught in the magnetic pull of him, every inch of him exudes power and complete control. 

When Terry returns to the booth, the energy you had mustered to ask him out seems to dissipate in the air. Does he not realize what he’s doing to you? He doesn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he does and just doesn’t mind as long as you keep making sure his order is always correct. With a softened expression he leans down on the table reaching for the pen you’d sat down in the tray earlier and pulls out a business card from his wallet. The name Terry Richmond is printed neatly in bold professional lettering but it’s the scribble he writes on the back that catches your breath. 

His hand moves fluidly as he writes, the thick veins that travel up his arm twitching as his finger flex and grip your pen. Oh, what you would do to be a pin right now. Terry writes his personal number on the card and then adds his signature to the restaurant receipt before placing your pen neatly back in the tray. 

“Just in case,” he says, his voice low and steady with a half smile that makes your pussy flutter; again. 

His hand brushes yours and the touch alone tightens every muscle in your core. You glance at the card and stand frozen for a moment just staring up at him towering over you, your heart skittering in your chest. You can barely breathe as you look into his eyes, those green depths making you feel like you’re drowning. 

“See you tomorrow” he says and then pulls his jacket on in a swift motion. You watch him walk toward the door, the familiar ding of the bell echoing in his wake. And just like that, he's gone.

For a second longer, you stand there, card still in hand, too stunned to move but the buzz of the kitchen quickly brings you back. Almost mechanically you go to clear his table. As you reach for his empty plate your eye catches the $50 bill folded neatly next to the receipt and the handwritten note he’s added to the bottom. 

Something extra. For always taking care of me :) 

“He obviously wants you. Just call him.” Alicia says later, breezing past you with an order of steak and eggs in hand.

“I am not calling him,” you hiss, dodging the swinging kitchen door before it smacks you.

“Well, that’s what I would do,” she shoots back, tucking a bottle of A1 steak sauce under her arm. 

“I wouldn’t even know what to say…” You trail off thinking of all the ways you could embarrass yourself if he did answer the phone. Or even worse if he didn’t and you left a cringy voicemail. Evidence of your lust and desire.

“Then text him!” she calls over her shoulder heading to her table.

You want to argue, but she has a point. Still, the thought of texting him sends a wave of anxiety through you. What do you even say? What if he doesn’t respond? 

The card burns a hole in your apron pocket, daring you to pull it out and make a move. 

Your finger hovers over the send button, and with a deep breath, you tap it before you can second-guess yourself.

You: 9:12 AM Hey this is y/n, the waiter from your favorite diner 😊

Delivered. 

Now all you can do is wait, you say to yourself, but your phone buzzes back as you go to slide it back into your apron.

Terry: 9:13 AM Is everything okay? You: 9:13 AM Yes! All good here. I just wanted to text you so you'd have my number Terry: 9:14 AM Received.

“Received!? That’s all he said?” you groan, dragging the word out as you swipe a hand across your forehead in a futile attempt to calm your nerves. 

“That’s it. Imma just leave it there and back out now so that way I don’t get my feelings hurt” you tell Alicia, reciting the exchange to her as she refills coffee at the counter. 

“No, y/n… This is when you lean in, full throttle!” she shouts causing a few patrons to look your way. 

Her sudden outburst scares one of your regulars, a janitor who works at the school across the street. 

“Sorry Mr. Johnson,” she mutters, grabbing a rag to wipe up the splash of coffee spilled on the counter when he jumped. 

You sigh, shaking your head at her antics, but her words echo in your mind. Lean in. Full throttle. 

You: 9:18 AM Hi Terry, I know girls don’t usually do this, but I wanted to take a chance anyway. You’ve been coming into the restaurant everyday, and I just had to let you know, I think you’re really handsome. I’d love to grab coffee or a drink with you sometime, away from the diner. I promise I look different outside of my uniform. I know you’re very busy but what do you say?

Terry: 9:19 AM What time do you get off? You: 9:20 AM 12 pm right before the lunch rush Terry: 9:20 AM Ok, You free tonight?

You hesitate for a second, caught off guard, but in a good way. 

You: 9:21 AM Yes. I thought you were working a double? Terry: 9:21 AM I’ll leave early. Be ready at 6. Can I pick you up from home, or do you want me to text you details where to meet? You: 9:22 AM I wasn’t expecting you to say yes so quickly... but I’m glad you did. I’ll be ready at 6. You can pick me up, here's my address: Terry: 9:22 AM Ok, It's a date. Terry: 9:23 AM I think you look beautiful in your uniform by the way.

After work, you stumble into your apartment, exhausted but jittery with anticipation. A date. With Terry Richmond. The thought makes your heart race. The clock reads 2:15.

Plenty of time.

You set an alarm for 4 and flop onto the couch, hoping a quick nap will energize you and calm your nerves.

When the alarm blares, you jolt awake, heart pounding with excitement and a new resolve. Tonight, you’re going for what you want.

You stretch, still groggy but fueled by anticipation, and drag yourself to the bathroom. The hot shower is a necessary reset, the steam curling around you as you let the water cascade over your skin. You take your time lathering your body with a vanilla-scented cleanser that leaves your skin soft and warm.

After toweling off, you reach for your favorite shea body butter, scooping a generous amount into your palms. The rich, creamy texture melts into your skin as you rub it in, taking extra time to smooth it over your arms, legs, and collarbone. You breathe it in, letting it ground you, remind you to enjoy every moment your afternoon.

You slip into a pair of fitted jeans that hug your ass just right, pairing them with your favorite oversized sweater. Comfortable, effortless, but still intentional. A swipe of gloss, a touch of mascara, and by the time you finish your makeup, the clock reads 5:45.

Outside, you hear the unmistakable rumble of Terry’s truck. Your pulse jumps. He’s early. Of course, he is. Everything about that man screams prompt. But instead of coming right up he waits outside and 10 minutes later, your phone buzzes.

Terry: 5:55 PM I'm outside. Coming up now.

At exactly 6:00 PM, you doorbell rings, the chime echoing through your quiet apartment. You take a deep breath, smoothing your hands over your outfit one last time before opening the door with a playful, sing song

"Hiiii, Terryyyyy."

He stands there, a bouquet of flowers in one hand and that easy, confident smile on his face that always makes your stomach flutter.

"Hey, baby," he says, his voice warm and smooth.

"Oh? I'm 'baby' already?" you tease, raising an eyebrow as you take the flowers from him, their sweet floral scent fills the air and you step aside to let him in.

"Good, because I actually have a confession to make," you say, your voice steady but your hands trembling slightly as you set the bouquet on the counter. The words feel heavy on your tongue, but you push through, determined to say what you've been holding back for weeks.

“Go on,” he replies, his voice low and steady, instantly grounding you as he takes a seat at one of your barstools. His eyes never leave yours, and you can feel the weight of his gaze, like he’s already reading between the lines.

“I don’t actually want to go out,” you state matter-of-factly, cool as a cucumber on the outside. But on the inside? Your heart feels as if it’s about to explode, each beat thundering in your ears. 

His brow quirks slightly, but his expression remains calm, unreadable. 

“What do you want to do then?” he asks, his tone innocent, but you know better. 

The way his eyes darken, the slight tilt of his head… he’s already figured it out. 

He’s just waiting for you to say it.

You swallow hard, your throat suddenly dry. “I just... I really like you. I admire the way you carry yourself. Not a lot of guys move like they would actually even know what to do with a woman. I don’t even date because it just doesn’t seem worth the time, you know? But I don’t want you to think I’m…”

“You grown. We grown,” he says simply, his calm reassurance melting your nerves. His voice is like a balm, soothing the edges of your anxiety. 

“Say it,” he cuts in, his voice soft but firm, like he’s coaxing the truth out of you. “Tell me what you want.”

Your breath hitches, and for a moment, the room feels too small, the air too thick. But then you meet his gaze, and something in his eyes gives you the courage to speak.

“I want you to fuck me,” you say, your voice steady but soft, the words hanging in the air between you like a challenge.

Terry cocks his head slightly, a mischievous smile playing at his lips.

“Come on, baby. You can do better than that. Say it again.”

Your cheeks flush, but you don’t look away.

“I want you to fuck me,” you repeat, louder and more sure this time, your voice carrying a confidence you didn’t know you had.

“There she is,” he breathes out, his tone is warm and laced with immense pride. The way he says it sends a shiver down your spine, and you feel a rush of heat pooling low in your stomach. And the longer you hold his gaze without cowering away the more his grin widens. He breaks eye contact first, pulling out his phone and handing it to you.

“This is my MyChart,” he says, his voice casual, like this is the most natural thing in the world.

You blink in surprise but unlock your own phone, pulling up your most recent results as well. Terry glances up at you from behind your screen, a teasing glint in his eye.

“If this was your plan, why’d you even bother getting dressed, mama?”

You smirk, locking his phone and setting it on the counter.

“Just in case you said no.”

“I’d never say no to you, y/n,” he says, his voice low and certain. The space between you feels electric, charged with an energy that makes your skin tingle.

You grab his hand, lacing your fingers together “Come with me,” you say softly, tugging on his hand gently.

Terry doesn't need to be told twice. He stands and squeezes your hand, letting you take the lead as you guide him toward your bedroom. The air between you is heated with anticipation, every step heightening the tension. Once inside, you turn to face him, and before you can second guess yourself, you're pulled into the kiss you've been waiting on for weeks. A kiss that make your knees weak and as his hands slide down to your waist pulling you closer you wrap yours around his waist to hold him tightly.

As your lips part briefly, you tug at the hem of his shirt, your breath coming faster.

"Take this off," you say, your voice edged with urgency.

Terry grins, his green eyes smoldering as he yanks the shirt over his head and tosses it aside. Your gaze rakes over his chest and broad shoulders, and you can’t help but touch him, your palms trailing over the hard lines of his muscles. 

“You're unreal,” you murmur, almost to yourself.

"Is that right?” he teases, his voice rough with desire as his hands slide under your sweater.

“Don't get a big head now,” you quip, but the words dissolve into a sharp inhale as his hands move over your bare skin.

“Too late for that,” he says, lifting your sweater off in one swift motion. The way his eyes darken as they take you in sends a shiver down your spine.

He hovers over you, his lips trailing along your jaw and down your neck, each kiss igniting your skin. You arch into him, your fingers exploring the expanse of his back, pulling him closer, deeper.

When you tug at his belt, your fingers bold and eager, Terry lets out a deep, approving sound that vibrates against your lips.

“You’re not wasting any time, huh?” he murmurs, his eyes locking with yours.

“No. I should've told you how I felt the first day you came in,” you reply breathlessly, your confidence building with every touch.

He grins, his hands slipping under your thighs as he lifts you effortlessly. You wrap your legs around his waist, and he carries you to the bed, his lips never leaving yours. The way he lays you down, slow and deliberate, sends a thrill through you.

“Terry,” you whisper, your voice trembling with need.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs against your skin, his words a promise.

He kisses his way down your body, his lips leaving a trail of fire in their wake. When he reaches the waistband of your pants, he looks up at you, his eyes dark with desire. 

“You so pretty, baby,” he says, before hooking his fingers into the fabric and pulling them down slowly, savoring every inch of skin he reveals. Once you’re completely bare, he takes a moment to just look at you, his gaze roaming over your body like he’s memorizing every curve. 

“Perfect,” he murmurs, and the way he says it makes your heart skip a beat.

"I'm proud of you for speaking up," he says looking up at you from in between your legs with direct eye contact.

Then he lowers his head, his breath warm against your inner thigh as he places a soft kiss there. You shiver, your fingers tangling in the sheets as he moves closer, his lips brushing against your most sensitive spot.

“Terry,” you gasp, your back arching off the bed as he licks a slow, deliberate stripe up your center. He hums in approval, the vibration sending a jolt of pleasure through you.

He takes his time, savoring you like you’re the most exquisite thing he’s ever tasted in his life. His tongue circles your clit, teasing and tormenting, before he sucks gently, drawing a moan from deep within you. His hands grip the back of your thighs, holding you open as he devours you, each lick and flick of his tongue driving you closer to the edge.

“You taste so good,” he murmurs against your lower lips, his voice rough with desire. “Hmmm, I could do this all night.”

You whimper, your hips lifting off the bed as he slides a finger inside you, curling it just right. 

“Terry, please,” you beg, your voice breaking as the pleasure builds, threatening to overwhelm you.

He adds another finger, and now you know exactly what his fingers feel like inside you. His pace is steady and relentless as he continues to lick and suck at your clit. The combination of his mouth and fingers is too much, your body arches off the bed and your thighs clamp around his head instinctively, as the sensation of cumming on Terry's lips leaves you trembling and breathless.

Terry doesn’t stop, drawing out your orgasm until you’re gasping for breath, your hands clutching at the sheets. Only then does he pull back, looking up at you with a satisfied smile. 

“You’re so beautiful when you cum for me,” he says, his voice filled with awe.

"This is better than I imagined," you whisper , staring at the ceiling, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath

"Been imagining me, huh?" he teases, his voice dripping with amusement.

You’re too spent to respond, your body still humming with the aftershocks of your orgasm. Terry kisses his way back up your body, his lips soft and gentle against your skin. When he reaches your lips, he kisses you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

“You ready for me?” he asks, his voice low and rough, and you nod, your body already craving more.

"Say it out loud y/n.. Say 'Yes'"

"Yes"

He positions himself between your legs, his eyes locked on yours as he pushes inside you slowly, giving you time to adjust. The stretch is delicious, and you moan while nails digging into his back as he fills you completely.

“Fuck, you feel amazing,” he groans, resting his forehead against yours as he starts to move, his thrusts slow and deep.

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer as you move together, your bodies perfectly in sync. The room fills with the sounds of your moans and his low steady groans, the air thick with the scent of sweat and desire.

“I wish you could see how pretty you look right now,” he says, his voice soft but filled with awe. 

Terry’s rhythm is relentless, each thrust driving you closer to the edge. His hands grip your hips firmly, guiding you as you move together, your bodies perfectly in sync. The sound of skin against skin fills the room, mingling with your breathless moans and his deep voice. Reaching down, he uses his thumb to circle your clit, and you can’t help but tighten your walls around him.

"That's it, baby" he murmurs against your neck "Just like that. Let me hear you"

You moan, throwing your head back deeper into the pillows as your hands grip his shoulders. His muscles flex under your fingertips.

"Terry," you cry out, your voice breaking once again as pleasure surges through you. 

"I'm right here," he coos, coaching you on, "You're doing so good baby."

His words are meant to ground you and keep you present but your mind won't stop racing.

The quiet ones are always the freakiest, you think, biting your lip to stop yourself from laughing at your own thoughts. You’ve gotten everything you wanted, and it’s better than you ever imagined. Definitely didn’t see this on your bingo card when you opened the restaurant this morning. Terry is constantly talking in your ear as he thrust, but you’ve been paying him only half your attention. Everything feels too good… his voice, rich, velvety, and impossible deep. Wrapping around you like a magic spell pulling you deeper into the moment. Is he the voodoo man?

"Focus, baby" he says, slowing his movements and forcing you to meet his gaze. His eyes are dark with desire but there's something else there too, something soft 

"I need you here with me. Can you do that?"

You nod, then immediately correct yourself and respond "Yes," verbally before he can say anything else. 

If he keeps talking to me like this, you think to yourself, I’m getting pregnant. 

“Turn over,” he murmurs, his voice rough with desire, and you don’t hesitate. You roll onto your stomach, your heart pounding as you feel him shift behind you. His hands slide up your back, tracing the curve of your spine before gripping your hips again. He pulls you up onto your knees, and you brace yourself wrapping your hands around the pillows at the head of your bed for support.

When he enters you again it’s from behind where the angle his tip can reach is deeper and more intense. You gasp, your head falling forward as pleasure ripples through you. 

“That’s it, baby,” he says, his voice a low growl in your ear. “Take it... You feel so good.”

“Yesssss,” you moan, matching his rhythm and rocking against him, the sensation overwhelming.

“Use me, baby. You’ve been working so hard, you deserve this,” he says, his voice a low rumble that sends a jolt of heat through you.

His hands roam all over your body, one hand glides up your side, before sliding around to cup your breast, his thumb brushing over your nipple in a way that makes you gasp. The other hand trails down your back, his touch firm yet reverent, before finally tangling in your hair. His fingers twist gently into your braids and he tugs just enough to guide you upright. Your back presses against his chest, his warmth enveloping you as his other hand slides around your waist, holding you steady. His fingers find your clit and circle it with just the right amount of pressure.

“Terry… I … Oh God,” you stammer, your words dissolving into a moan as he picks up the pace, his thrusts becoming harder, faster.

“You close?” he asks, his voice strained but steady, and you nod frantically, unable to form any coherent words.

"I've got you," he murmurs. His voice is steady and grounding even as his thrust grow more urgent. His hand in your hair tightens slightly, his grip possessive yet tender.

“Let go, baby. I’ve got you.”

His words push you over the edge, and you cum with a moan loud enough that you're certain to get you a noise complaint in the mail. Your body swivering as waves of pleasure crash over you. Terry groans, his rhythm faltering as his grip in your hair loosens, letting go to tighten his hold on your hips instead. His breath comes in ragged bursts, his body trembling with the effort to hold on just a little longer. Without his hold to keep you upright, you collapse forward onto the bed, your arms barely catching you as your face presses into the sheets. Your breath comes in ragged gasps, your body still shaking from the aftershocks of your climax. But even as you try to catch your breath, you’re not done. You throw your ass back against him, meeting his thrusts with what little strength you have left, helping him chase his own release. You can tell he's moments away from spilling inside you.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Terry moans deeply, his breath warm against your neck, sending a shiver down your spine causing you to deepen your arch for him and lift your ass higher in the air. “Y/N…” “Y/NNNNN!” Alicia’s voice snaps through the fog of your daydream. She drags your name out, her tone harsh and sharp, clearly trying to catch your attention since you obviously didn’t hear her the first 5 times she called you. “Bitch! I know you hear me talking to you!” she whispers harshly, her words slicing through the fantasy. You blink rapidly, disoriented, heart still pounding from the scene you’d just imagined. The sound of Alicia’s voice has brought you crashing back to reality, and now you’re frantically scrambling.  “Hello! Your customer is asking for you! Stop daydreaming and go see what that fine ass man wants! What’s wrong with you?” “Shit,” you mutter under your breath, snapping into action. You race to the kitchen, heart still racing as you grab Terry’s to-go order, this morning he told you he was working a double and needed to order out. Your hands are a little shaky, but you focus on making his drink, piling on the extras, whipped cream, a generous drizzle of mocha on top of the foam, everything you know will make him smile. Usually, your boss would make you charge extra for the toppings, but today? It’s all on the house. He deserves it. You rush back to Terry’s table, fully aware that the man runs on a tight schedule. You can’t afford to keep him waiting. “Here you go, Mr. Richmond,” you say, your voice quick but sincere, your words stumbling over themselves with a hint of nervous energy. “Sorry about the wait. I threw in a hot chocolate for you, and your receipt is in the bag. Again, really sorry about that. Have a great day!” Terry looks up from the newspaper with that easy, effortless grin of his. He doesn’t seem phased by the wait at all. “Eh, no worries,” he responds coolly, waving off your apology with a smile  “You can call me Terry… What’s your name again?” Your heart skips a beat at the sound of his voice saying your name, and you quickly recover, offering a smile as you introduce yourself.

Extra A/N: Still recovering from the Flu so pls excuse any errors! This story takes place in a universe where niggas don't drink hot chocolate with catfish dinners at lunch time. Can you tell I was catching up on the bear and abbott today? I ended up inserting characters in here lol. On to the recruit & night agent season two ✌🏾. Now that I finally got this idea out of my head I can start my reading back up and try to finish SF Chapter III.

Ok bye 🏃🏾‍♀️💨

Tags: @ovohanna24 @skvrpion @thevelvetwhispers @persethegawd

[uzumaki-rebellion]

Brat by Uzumaki Rebellion

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black Female OC

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

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

Word Count: 6.7K

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

So I will make you cum through the night

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

I will in the sheets

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

Teyana Taylor – "WTP"

The cops were called to his home

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

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

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

You see, Sasha is a brat.

On purpose.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

As the evening continued, they cozied up even more.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You like watching me do that?"

"Yes, Daddy."

"Hmmm, into watersports?"

Her sloe eyes twinkled with delight.

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

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

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

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

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

He scooped her up and drove back to his apartment.

They began a committed relationship soon after.

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

There were other rules, of course.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She loved that shit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He always took the bait.

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

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

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

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

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

"You fix it."

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

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

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

"Sasha, I'm not playing!"

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

"Sasha!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Fucking slut!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She pissed him off.

And he let her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He ignored it, pretending to be busy.

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

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

Sunday couldn't come fast enough.

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

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

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

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

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

Jasmine.

Both women were oblivious to him being there.

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

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

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

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

Jasmine lifted on her elbows and grinned.

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

"Come lick up his cum," Sasha said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Now, Jasmine."

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

"What's wrong?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Ready?"

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

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

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

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

Her eyes widened, and she bit her bottom lip.

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

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

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

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

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

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

She pressed her lips together for a second.

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

"You said that last time two weeks ago."

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

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

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

"Peace and calm."

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

Her mouth dropped open.

"What?" she said.

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

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

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

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

"Out!"

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

He relieved himself and changed into his house clothes.

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

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

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

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

"Your dinner is ready," Sasha called out.

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

"This looks good, baby. Thank you."

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

He punished her for a month.

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

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

Meals…impeccable.

Cocktails at the door…refreshing.

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

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

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

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

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

He continued kissing her, lifting those glorious breasts.

"Will you fuck me now?" she pleaded.

"Of course."

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

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

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

He studied her expression in the mirror.

"Want Daddy to punish this pussy?"

"Yes!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Let me hear that wet pussy, Sasha."

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

"You ready, baby?"

She hummed with his nuts in her mouth.

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

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

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

Sasha whimpered, and her tone was on the edge.

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

"I'm still your good girl!"

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

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

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

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

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

His aftercare was tender with her.

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

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

She hugged him tight.

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

"I love you, Sasha."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sasha!"

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

"Shall I assume the position?" she teased.

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

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

Terry taught her a new lesson.

And, of course, she loved it.

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[jazziejax]

★ 𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐘 ★ 𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐘 ★

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - Terry Richmond x Black!OC

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - 𝐎𝐡, 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲, 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲! 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐝!

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - Slow burn, one-sided pining (or is it?), blurred lines, emotionally tense bodyguard dynamics, light possessiveness, princess-core x protector energy.

𝐉𝐚𝐳𝐳𝐢𝐞’𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 - seeing this fine ass man and his fine ass girlfriend got me in the mood to write again 🤷🏽‍♀️. Also, he looks like a bouncer every time he wears all black. Also, also, this is corny as fuck but I wanted to be a bit original so I went, fuck it, Princess! Sorry for any grammar mistakes or spelling errors! I hate reading my own work back!

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 3,908+

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - ⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆

The screen lit up with the TikTok app’s familiar start-up jingle, followed by a soft gasp from the girl on-screen. She wore a silk bonnet, lip gloss, and an oversized tee, holding her phone like she had just discovered treasure

“Okay. Y’all… I was just trying to figure out who this woman was that literally almost shut down a street in Milan yesterday. Like—shut it DOWN. And I fell into a hole. So, let’s get into it because—why did no one tell me this princess is that girl?”

The screen cut to the now-viral photo of Princess Atarah Mbali, draped in a chartreuse Jacquemus mini dress with a long sculptural train, strappy metallic heels, and a pair of gradient sunglasses that half-covered her face. Her hair was in two sleek, waist-length braids, and her brown skin glowed under the paparazzi’s camera flash. In the background was a blurry figure in all-black — broad, tall, still.

“First of all — yes. This is an actual princess. Like, royalty. Heiress to a fucking throne. Her mom is Queen Samira — which is the one who brought that sapphire headwrap to a UN gala she attended with her husband, and it broke Twitter. Yeah, that’s her mother. So, her bloodline is already fashionable as fuck. Sort of known to be on of the best dressed families in power.”

The video then cut to a mashup, which was actually a vintage Vogue spread from years ago featuring Queen Samira’s wedding to King Kwame Mbali, followed by a slideshow of archival footage showing a much younger Atarah. From boarding school photos, grainy royal family candids, and charity gala appearances and even the occasional one of her as a child, waving to the paps. She was always poised, always beautiful, and was always watched.

“She’s twenty-four now. Went to university in London, dipped in and out of the spotlight for most of her life — and then bam, started popping up in these random clips and videos all over social media. Baby she’s been here.”

The TikTok cuts to a now-infamous video. It shows a bustling crowd outside an afterparty in France. Nothing but chaos and screaming as different security guards yelled in four different languages. The camera shakes wildly until it catches a tall, sharply built man with deep brown skin and a calm, stoic expression emerging through the crowd from the door of the party. It shows as he turned and effortlessly lifts a girl. And there, effortlessly balanced across his shoulders, laughing in a mini dress and stiletto boots, was Atarah Mbali, shades across her face as she blushed at the attention.  

“This was her. THIS was her. And that man carrying her like a paper doll? That’s not her boyfriend. That’s her bodyguard. Terry. Richmond. Who has apparently been with her for, like, almost ten years now???”

The voiceover softened, almost dreamily.

“And he is always so there? Like—girl, look at this.”

It then cuts to another video. A jet ski gliding across the turquoise coast of Antigua. Atarah in a red bikini, long braids flying behind her as she’s driving with her sunglasses on and laughing. And behind her, hands gently resting on her waist to make sure the standing girl didn’t fall, face unreadable, sat Terry. Wet shirt clinging to him with his eyes trained on the horizon.

Then it cut again — quick flashes of mirror selfies she’d posted on her now semi-active account throughput the years. Some of them were classic influencer content in a way. Chic bags, nails, jewelry. But if you looked closely, there he was in the background every time — blurred in the mirror, half cropped, standing at the door, boots in the frame.

“So like… she doesn’t post a lot, but when she does? He’s always there, which I know he’s her bodyguard, but he’s fine as fuck.” 

The TikTok cuts to one last clip , one low-resolution and shaky.

It was a New York Fashion Week afterparty. There was loud music and flashing lights. Atarah’s hand is in Terry’s as they move through the crowd with her in front. At one point, she stumbles in heels and he catches her by the waist like it’s second nature. She doesn’t even look that surprised by the touch. She just leans back into him for one second longer than necessary with a slightly agape mouth.

“You’re telling me that’s just professionalism? She not fucking his fine ass? Please. I bet that man is in love with his job for…many reasons. Either way, I need this in a book or on a screen near me, immediately.”

The TikTok ends with a picture of her reflection in Capri, Atarah smirking under sunglasses, head slightly tilted toward the large window she was taking the photo in. And Terry was behind her, one hand on the car door, the other on his hip as he watched her. 

That was the video Atarah watched on her phone last night, the hum of the private jet subtle. Once it send and automatically started over in her headphones, it was then she felt how much she was smiling. She looked away from the phone illuminating her face, the video still playing in her ears, and her eyes landed on the man across the aisle. There Terry sat in a reclined airplane seat, asleep with a fluffy yellow blanket thrown over him, the one she placed earlier. And as she gazed at him, the end of the video rang in her ears again. 

“She not fucking his fine ass? Please. I bet that man is in love with his job for…many reasons. Either way, I need this in a book or on a screen near me, immediately.”

With that, she shut her phone off and took her earphones off her ears. She let out a soft sigh as she placed the items in her carryon bag next to her before snuggling up in under her blanket and going to sleep, the last thing she saw being the sleeping man next to him. 

────୨ৎ────

The private jet cut a clean line through the skies above Los Angeles, the soft hum of descent barely noticeable within the luxurious interior. Plush cream seats gleamed under the warm glow of the cabin lights, and through the oval windows, the city stretched like a golden mirage beneath them.

“Terry, wake up!”

Atarah’s voice rang out like morning bells, crisp and bright, far too lively for someone who had been curled up asleep moments ago. She sat up quickly, brushing a stray coil of dark hair from her cheek, her smile wide as her eyes danced toward the window. “We’re here!”

Across the aisle, Terry sat upright, dressed in all black, as always—black trousers, black fitted shirt, black earpiece, black watch. His presence alone was intimidating, but unmoved. “I see that. He replied coolly, casting her a sidelong glance, unimpressed but not unamused. “I’m awake.”

“Well get excited!” She grinned, undeterred by his tone. Her international accent—a rich blend of aristocratic English with the softness of African musicality—filled the cabin as effortlessly as the scent of her lavender oil did earlier. No one on board blinked at her enthusiasm. The flight staff were used to her, used to them. Atarah, Princess of the House of Mbali. And Terry…her unflinching shadow.

They began their landing procedures, Atarah adjusting her pale yellow polo sweater over her grey sweats, slipping on her worn-in Uggs. “You’re going to help me carry my bags, right?” She teased as she stuffed her hair into a claw clip and collected her Hermès blanket.

“I already coordinated your luggage, Your Highness.” Terry muttered.

She beamed at that, softly clapping her hands while Terry stared at her. 

Fifteen minutes later, the jet touched down, the California sun spilling across the tarmac like honey. The moment Atarah stepped off the jet, she squealed in delight, her laughter light as she slipped her arm through Terry’s. She barely made it down the steps before the sound of shrill voices caught her ear.

“Tarah!”

“Ahh!” The woman squeaked, letting go of Terry immediately to run toward the small group of girls gathered near the base of the jet. They wore matching wide-brim hats and high-cut shorts, their Louis Vuitton crossbodies swinging as they jogged forward to meet her.

The girls collided in a chorus of shrieks and perfume.

“Omg, I haven’t seen you guys in ages!” Atarah said, pulling back just slightly to admire them, her cheeks still flushed from sleep and sun. Behind her, Terry stood like a statue, arms crossed, sunglasses hiding the storm in his eyes.

“That’s because you’ve been MIA.” Said Bailey, her British accent curled like a ribbon. Bailey was slim and surgically preserved, her cheekbones a little too sharp, and her lip filler giving her a constant pout. Classic British babe with an iffy tan but a nice beat face. 

Atarah shrugged with a soft laugh. “Because I’ve been busy. You know…princess, eldest daughter things.”

Harper rolled her eyes. “Besides not hearing from you for almost months, yeah, we can tell.” She said in that soft Italian accent, before her eyes racked the princess. “What are you wearing?” She added as she brushed her Bon blonde hair away from her face, her gaze, and the rest of theirs, lingering critically on Atarah’s oversized grey sweats, polo sweater, and Uggs. 

Atarah glanced down at herself and blinked. “What?” She said. “I was on a jet.” She stated, defending herself from the scrutiny she felt. Bailey scoffed, but it was Harper’s curled lip that gave it away. Atarah followed their gaze and saw the others already dressed for Coachella, all fringe, mesh, lace, and glitter. “Oh, are you guys heading out now?” She asked.

“Yeah,” Bailey said. “Didn’t think we had to tell you we wanted you to be ready.” Her tone was achingly sweet. And it scratched under Atarah’s her skin. She gave the girl a tight smile. “Well, Lady Gaga doesn’t come on ‘til later, so I’ll catch up with you guys after I get ready.”

“Where are you staying?” Sofia asked then, her soft blue eyes too curious. She was the prettiest of the trio, a nice blonde blowout and a Swedish accent with a supermodel’s height and bone structure to tie it all in.

“Uh, the private villa up north.” She responded. Sofia nodded, but Terry saw it—the subtle glance Harper threw Bailey, the way Bailey blinked hard just before she turned her cheek. He stepped forward without a word, hand landing protectively on the small of Atarah’s back.

Atarah glanced up at him, then back at her friends. “I gotta go get ready. I’ll see you guys later.” She said with a small smile. Terry ushered her toward the line of black SUVs parked nearby. He didn’t have to say a word. She already felt the prickle on the back of her neck. She waved at the girls once more before slipping into the middle car, and Terry followed.

As the door shut behind him, Atarah exhaled, gaze flicking over her stacked LV trunks in the back, just as the sound of Terry shutting the car door sounded. She settled into her seat as her eyes then drifted out of the window. Her friends were already climbing into their own vehicle, laughing again. The engine thrummed and the SUV pulled off into the city, heat shimmering off the asphalt.

There was a silence, thick and unspoken before looked over at the man next to him. “Go ahead and say it.” She muttered.  “I know you want to.”

“I don’t like your friends.” Terry said without a pause, looking away from the passing plains and connecting his eyes with her.

Atarah turned her body to face him, legs tucked under her. “And why is that again?”

“It wouldn’t be respectful for me to say.”

She tilted her head back with a small groan, but she couldn’t help the smile on her face. “You know it’s just you and I. You can say anything.” She looked over his face, his ocean-green eyes unreadable, but they always made her comfortable. Terry just started at her and after a brief pause, the girl snapped her head over to the driver. “And you too, Sergio!” She called up to the driver.

“Thank you, Miss.” The man replied evenly, and it was never clear if he even heard what she said or was just responding to the sound of his name. But Atarah nodded before she looked back over at Terry. “Come on.” She urged with a small whine, and since she was twisted in her seat, she poked his thigh with her so foot, since she slipped out of her uggs. There was silence, so Atarah began to repeatedly nudge him with her foot. 

And Terry had the patience of a monk. He was military trained since the young age of sixteen and there was little to nothing that could break him. Even the ever spoiled persistence of a princess that he’s known for years now. But Atarah had grew to be a friend, someone he had a soft spot for. So he grabbed her ankle gently, his large hand wrapping around it as his gaze slid over to hers. Her toes wiggled in his lap.

“I think they’re spoiled brats.” He said, voice low.

“That’s not what you wanted to say.” She sing-songed, looking him in the eye. She knew him too well. “You say the same thing about me.”

Terry’s jaw ticked. “I think they’re bitches.”

“There it is!” Atarah squealed, clapping once. “See, I know you so well.” She grinned. She leaned over, pressing her fingertip from her temple to his, her smile all honey and victory. He didn’t flinch and held the most subtle smile as he watched her. Her touch lingered a little too long before she dropped back into her seat, legs still draped across his lap.

She folded her hands in her lap, then gave him a prim look. “Now let’s talk about your choice of words for women.”

He chuckled—just a breath—but it made her heart skip. He rarely laughed, rarely softened around anyone but her. And when he did…it made her feel like she was the only person on earth who could. She watched him quietly, chin resting against the back of her seat. His thumb rubbed a slow, lazy circle into the inside of her ankle, unaware or uncaring of the way her breath hitched and made her heart beat. 

Outside the window, the desert sprawled into sun-drenched silence. But inside the car, it was warmer. And there was a tension that hung somewhere between comfort and longing.

Terry finally looked away from her and back over to the passing plains. “They don’t deserve your time.” He said simply.

And for the first time all day, Atarah didn’t have anything to say back.

The ride to the villa stretched across golden stretches of highway, sun slicing through the tinted windows in drowsy beams. Atarah chattered about the things she’d missed of the city. The food trucks on Melrose, late-night runs to Erewhon, how nobody did iced lattes quite like L.A., all while Terry responded with low hums and sparse nods. It wasn’t that he wasn’t listening; he always listened. He was just…more focused on watching. Her. 

When they finally pulled up to the secluded villa, tucked high in the Coachella Valley hills and wrapped in flowering bougainvillea, Atarah reached for the door instinctively, ready to burst out like she always did—except Terry’s sharp glance caught her mid-motion.

She froze. And with a dramatic sigh and a roll of her eyes, she folded her arms and waited.

Terry stepped out first, the desert sun casting sharp angles across his sharp cheekbones. His black shirt hugged the contours of his broad chest and arms, a quiet authority in his every movement. His eyes scanned the villa once before flicking back to the SUV. He reached out a hand.

“Come on.” He said.

With her small hand in his, she stepped down from the vehicle, her fingers tightening briefly around his. Terry guided her across the gravel path as Pedro and Nash, two more men from her security detail, did a sweep of the property. When the nods were given, he opened the front door for her, and they stepped into the villa together, hands still clasped like a quiet ritual neither of them ever spoke about. It was second nature to them now. A rhythm of theirs.

He led her through the villa and to her room—an airy, high-ceilinged suite with floor-to-ceiling windows and light pouring in. The rest of her bags were already being delivered in shifts by Sergio, the ever-loyal driver. When Terry finally released her hand, Atarah darted toward the patio doors like a spring uncoiled.

She threw them open, linen curtains flying up as wind surged in, tousling her dark curls. Her body moved to the edge of the balcony, where the view opened into a vast stretch of golden plains. In the distance, she could make out the Coachella stages being lit up for the day. “I’m soglad to be back in the States!” She cried, arms wide open, wind tugging at her baggy sweats and polo. She stood there a moment, basking in the warmth like a cat in sunlight.

When she turned, Terry was there, posted by the door, hands behind his back, as disciplined as a palace guard. Her grin softened as she brushed past him to return to the room, the curtains trailing behind her like silk.

Sergio was just finishing with the bags.

“Thank you.” She said sincerely as she pulled her phone form her pocket and ,add her way over to her bed 

“You’re welcome, madame.” He replied with a small bow, and after a nod from Terry, he quietly exited.

She was halfway through connecting her phone to the portable speaker when she noticed Terry turning for the door.

“Where are you going?” She asked, pausing mid-pairing.

“To keep watch.” He answered, never quite turning fully toward her.

“But I need you to help me pick an outfit.” She said quickly, padding barefoot toward him. “My friends aren’t here, and I need someone honest to help me figure out what looks good.” She explained, but his face didn’t change as he looked down at her.  She saw the hesitation in the twitch of his brow. She stepped closer, reaching for his hand, wrapping hers around it like it was natural—like it always had been. “Terry,” She said, voice soft. “Just for a little while.” She pleaded. 

The fight in him dissolved instantly. He released a long breath through his nose before squeezing her hand once, a gesture so gentle it made her chest flutter.

He turned and pressed a hand to his earpiece. “Keep watch.” He said, eyes scanning the view of the living space elf the villa before closing the doors. “Copy.” Pedro’s voice came through as Terry turned to face her again to see Atarah’s beaming face. 

Then she squealed and bolted to her bags like a child on Christmas morning. The speaker kicked on, flooding the room with a blasting beats, songs from R&B to hip hop. Thumping basslines, soft synths, and female vocals that bled into every corner of the suite. 

Terry settled into the ottoman at the foot of her bed, sitting with his legs apart, elbows on his knees. His eyes followed her as she disappeared into the bathroom with an armful of options, and the show began.

She stepped out a minute later in a white two-piece, mesh skirt riding low on her hips and a crochet halter top tied around her neck, showing the cursive tattoo she had on her hip that said “made in heaven”. She twirled in front of the mirror, then turned toward him.

“What do you think?” She asked, posing for him with a smile. 

Terry tilted his head, assessing her from head to toe.

“Cute. But more so for the beach, not a music festival.” He said. 

She let out a small sight before turning away from him, giving herself one more look. “Ugh, okay.” She said before walking back into the bathroom. Next came a butterfly top with flared jeans, but she shook her head before even asking, disappeared again.

Then came sequins—so many sequins. A matching bra and shorts combo that shimmered like fish scales in the light. She struck a few poses and snapped photos in front of the mirror. She glanced back to find Terry watching, his jaw slack just barely, the muscle ticking.

“This one’s hot.” She said, teasing.

“It is.” He agreed. “But what shoes would you wear with that.”

She teasing smirk dropped and disappeared again, this time taking longer. Each time she reappeared, her confidence built. She laughed freely, twirled for him, winked at herself, even bent to see if she would flash anyone when she twerked. The air in the room grew warmer with every outfit. Every look. Every comment from Terry that made her feel seen and admired.

Finally, she emerged wearing the outfit she didn’t want to try at first. A storm-gray hooded mini-dress clung to her curves, cinched with a thick, black belt that sat high on her waist. Beneath the draped neckline peeked the edge of a black lace bra, sultry and deliberate. Stacked silver jewelry shimmered at her collarbone and wrists. Chunky black boots hit just below the knee, elongating her legs.

She didn’t pose this time. She just stood there and watched as Terry sat up straighter and eyed her up and down, her hands brushing down the front of the dress to straighten it

Her lips curved slowly. “Well?” She asked, placing her hands on her hips.

“I think that’s the one.” He said, voice low, rougher than it had been all day.

She didn’t say anything at first, just smiled, almost shy, before walking to the mirror to snap a few photos, her behind facing him. 

Terry watched her the whole time, fingers curled on his knees, heart beating louder than usual. The song playing in the background was low and sultry, ‘Naught Girl’ by Beyoncé almost like a whisper meant just for them. When she lowered her phone, her eyes met his in the mirror. “I think I just needed you to remind me who I am.” She nodded, her eyes moving to rake over her figure again, though her voice was soft. 

Terry stood slowly, the space between them suddenly much smaller than before. “You never forgot.” He said, approaching her with a quiet kind of reverence. “You just let them convince you to question it.”

Their eyes locked and her breath caught a bit as her eyes moved over his alluring features.  In the silence that followed, they didn’t touch. They didn’t need to. But it was clear as the sunlight pouring in through the balcony door—neither of them wanted to walk away. Atarah softly cleared her throat before turning around to face him, looking up at the handsome man, his grey eyes moving down to look into hers. “Now let’s get you dressed.” She smiled, giving his broad chest a pat before moving past him. But her brushing him against him was something that didn’t go unnoticed by either of them,  especially with the spark it sent through their bodies. 

If you would like to be added to the taglist, comment here!

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐭 & 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 🗑️ 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐞 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐬 ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

[idyllicbarb]

FOREVER MY LADY, AARON PIERRE.

pairing: aaron pierre x actress!reader

summary: feelings rise after you and aaron co-star in the same film.

warnings: slow burn, slight angst, eventual smut, fluff.

music:

forever my lady by jodeci

safety net by ariana grande ft. ty dolla sign

georgia peach by latto

make it to the mornin’ by partynextdoor

bad by wale ft. tiara thomas

belong to the city by partynextdoor

next to you by bryson tiller

desert eagle by beyoncé

the matrimony by wale ft. usher

hey daddy by usher

love on top by beyoncé

one.

two.

three.

four

five.

six.

seven.

eight.

nine.

ten.

taglist: comment if you want to be tagged for this story, k bye!

[imperfectlyxangelic]

Meta AI does it again, plus a little bit of regular crop.

[alldthoughtsinmyhead]

Ex-Convict Terry.

Summary: Terry returns to you after being in prison for two years. A one-shot. (Found this buried in my drafts, decided to edit and post it. Especially because of Aaron's durag picture lol.)

Warning: Smut.

Terry stood in the distance, but you felt him before you saw him—like a slow burn crawling across your skin.

You stood beside his convertible, the only thing left from the scam that landed him in prison. Still flawless. Just like he left it. Seeing it intact confirmed what he always knew: you held it down for him.

Two years. That’s how long it had been since the last time you saw him. Two years of silent nights and empty laughter, pretending your world hadn’t lost its weight when the cell door shut behind him.

You missed his dry humor, the way he held you like it was two of you against the world. He’d left his cards in your name, not just to hide the money, but to make sure you’d be okay.

And now he was here.

The heat on your skin told you he was close, but you didn’t look up. Tears streamed down your cheeks, and you didn’t want him to see.

Then came the voice.

“Y/N… come here, baby.”

That did it.

You threw yourself into his arms and sobbed into his chest. All the strength you had faked for years, gone. You clung to him like a lifeline, cried until your shoulders shook, until you could finally breathe again.

“It’s alright,” he whispered into your hair. “It’s over. I’m here now. Let me take care of you."

He finally put you down, smiling as you sniffled and wiped your tears. "Let’s go home.”

The ride home was quiet. You were exhausted from crying so hard, so he drove.

You felt a twinge of guilt letting him get behind the wheel fresh out of lockup, but he told you not to worry. When you keyed a different address into the GPS, he glanced at you.

“What’s this?”

You just winked. “Surprise.”

When he pulled into the garage of the five-bedroom duplex, the look on his face made you laugh out loud.

“Welcome home, babe,” you said, giving him a loud smooch.

You led him through the house, explaining how you’d flipped houses using a portion of the money he'd left you. The grit it took. How this one had been a bargain. How you made it into the dream you'd both shared.

He followed in silence, eyes wide with pride and astonishment. Then you opened the last door. It was brightly painted, radiating warmth and comfort.

“Can you guess what this room is for?”

He looked around, nodded slowly.

Your chest tightened. You'd imagined this moment so many times. He didn’t react the way you’d dreamed. But maybe that was okay. He was tired. You were both just trying to come back to each other.

“I think I’m ready to try your fancy shower,” he said with a half-smile.

You lit up and led the way.

Steam filled the room. Terry stood under the hot spray, letting it work through two years of tension.

Then the door creaked open.

You stepped inside, gloriously naked, catching the way his breath hitched.

“Need help with your back?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You lathered your hands, sliding them down his shoulders, over those back muscles. Damn. He must’ve spent every day in there lifting. You ran your palms down to his ass, giving it a firm squeeze, a playful slap. The wet crack of it made you giggle.

He chuckled...then choked a little when your hands slid around and took hold of his thickening shaft.

You stroked him slowly, reverently. You weren’t in any hurry. It had been too long since you held him like this. You told yourself you’d just take the edge off, let him sleep. Just a little taste.

His cock hardened in your grip as you worked him — squeezing, twisting, dragging your fingers over the ridge of his glans. He gasped every time your thumb flicked the tip.

Terry groaned deep in his chest. No one had touched him in prison. Plenty of men had tried. But his body belonged to you — always had.

He placed his hand over yours, tightening your grip. Together you pumped him faster, harder, until he shuddered and spilled over both your hands.

You kissed his back, pulled away, and rinsed off quickly.

“I’m setting the table,” you said, stepping out. “Put something on and come eat. I need you back at 100%.”

Dinner was spent catching up and swapping stories until late into the night, when your eyes began to droop. He scooped you into his arms and carried you to bed.

It must have been around 4 a.m. when you felt gentle hands on your body. Blinking awake, you found Terry looking down at you, a twinkle in his eye. Your gaze dropped, and your core clenched. He was naked.

Smiling mischievously, he started unbuttoning your pajamas. He kissed your skin with every button he undid, pausing to stare at your bare breasts once they were revealed. A giggle bubbled up from your throat as it hit you—this was the first time he was seeing them in two years.

He didn’t hesitate for long. His mouth was on you in an instant, groping one breast while sucking the other, leaving little bite marks as he switched between them with greedy urgency.

Your head thrashed on the pillow. Your breasts were extra sensitive, and he wasn’t holding back. Just as you reached to push his mouth away from your aching nipple, he rose to hook his thumbs into your pajama bottoms. With one swift motion, he yanked them off, nearly lifting you off the bed in the process.

He was getting feral—and your pussy wouldn’t stop gushing in response to his intensity.

Flipping you onto your stomach, he pulled your hips up until your ass was in his face.

Terry groaned at the sight. Your round ass was perfectly presented, your glistening juices dripping on the sheets. His dick was painfully hard.

He fisted it slowly as he leaned forward for a taste, spreading your thighs with one hand and dragging his tongue from the front of your slit to the back.

“Mmm… delicious,” he murmured, stroking himself. “You’re still the sweetest thing on earth, baby.”

He made soft, filthy noises into your pussy in response to your whimpers. Precum formed at the tip of his cock, and he rubbed it lazily over the swollen head with his thumb, never taking his eyes off your soaked folds.

Then he let go of himself.

Grabbing both your thighs, he buried his face in your pussy and began to devour you with hunger. His mouth moved over you like a lover’s kiss, sucking and tonguing every inch of your labia. His tongue licked deep into your slit, pausing to suck and nibble your clit. His fingers joined the feast, spreading you open so his tongue could reach inside, lapping hungrily at your core as slick dripped from your folds onto his chin.

Muffled cries escaped into the fluffy pillow beneath you. You were already so close. Your orgasm began to build fast and wild, and you reached back blindly for his head, holding him against you as you rocked your pussy into his face.

He didn’t stop. He licked and sucked through it, letting you ride your high against his mouth, your juices smeared across his nose and cheeks.

When you finally let him go, he grabbed your discarded pajama top and wiped his face.

“Well, damn,” he said, catching his breath. “I’m glad I’m not the only one starving.”

He pulled your legs out from under you until you lay flat on your stomach again, then moved over your body, straddling you.

You felt the nudge of his cock at your entrance and moaned—deep and needy. He was pushing in.

You hadn’t let another man near you in two years. Toys had helped, but nothing could prepare you for Terry’s thick cock stretching you open again. No one had ever ruined you the way he had.

Terry groaned as your wet heat took him in, inch by inch.

He was home.

He moved slowly at first, letting you adjust while savoring the way your walls gripped him. His thrusts were deep, measured, loving.

“Ohhhh, Terryyy… fuck, I missed you. I missed you, Papa…”

Your voice trembled—part moan, part sob. His weight on your back pinned you into the mattress, and somehow you felt both helpless and safe in his arms.

When his arm curled around your head and shoulders, you knew what time it was.

His hips began to slam down harder, faster. The wet slap of skin echoed in the room, drowning out everything but his grunts and the filthy words he growled in your ear.

You whimpered, grinding back into him, trying to match his punishing rhythm.

You felt his cock twitch inside you. He lowered his lips to your ear, his voice a low rasp.

“You ready to use that room you showed me?”

Your heart swelled. He wanted this. He just wasn’t the kind of man to show it outright.

His hand on your head kept you still, so you choked out a small, “Yes.”

“I’m gonna wear out this pussy,” he growled. “We’re not stopping until your stomach’s swelling with my child.”

Your pussy clenched around him—tight, hot, desperate.

That was all the answer he needed.

He held you tight as he poured his seed inside you.

To new beginnings.

[writingsbytee]

Rivalry & Romance

Enemies to Lovers workplace romance

*Remember you are in charge of your own consumption. 18+ up audiences only; minors please don’t interact!* THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION 

*Please do not plagiarize, repost, or steal my work. This doesn’t count for re-blogs!*

*the book excerpt above is from ‘The Cruel Prince’  by Holly Black

SUMMARY: I think I’m obsessed with the early 2000s. But this is set in the era of MapQuest and Motorola Razrs. You and Terry have been at each other’s throats for months. Putting the term “Workplace rivalry” to shame. 

PAIRINGS: Terry x Tatum (black, fem, reader)

WARNINGS: Terry being an asshole

AUTHOR’S NOTE: This is going to be a slow burn, So there won’t be any smut in this fic. Just simple character building.

TAGLIST

@nayaesworld @keehendrixx @theereinawrites @theereina @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @megamindsecretlair @episodes-ff @blackgurlnhermoods @dxddykenn @pinkkycherrish @pinkkycherrishh @uzumaki-rebellion @urfavblackbimbo @kianaleani @shallipii @mymindisneverhere @onherereading @skyesthebomb @gg-trini @blyffe @melalsworld @mogul93 @ms-mosley-ifunastyyy @sweettea-and-honeybutter @notapradagurl7 @miyuhpapayuh @simplyzeeka @playgurlxoxo @yassbishimvintage @dbaileyblog @jimmybutlrr @versaceslutz @ruewritesoccasionally @kaylalb @noir-lullaby @jadatingz @madamedantes @charmedthoughts @daughterofapollo-7 @cardi-bre91 @thabiddie23 @mama200195-blog @venusincleo @slvt4her @skvrpion @constanthavok @dutifulliythoughtfulenthusiast @massivenightdreamer @astasteofmir @callingallbaddies @nubiawrites @nubiagurllll @theglamclosetsl @alicewonderringland @kumkaniudaku @zunibugsiren @secrettawolfpanda @fakxmbj @zunibugsiren

If I missed anybody, please comment and let me know!

“I told you to make a left three miles back!” you exclaimed, crossing your arms in frustration. 

“I swear to god if you say that one more time, I’ll pull this car over. I’m literally an ex-marine, I know my way around a map,” Terry said, his voice taking on a rumbling growl. You roll your eyes, huffing as you turn away from him to look out the window. Your cybersecurity company planned a business retreat for you and your coworkers as a way to celebrate the huge account they just obtained and boost morale. Pairing you with your ‘least compatible match’, your boss thought it’d be a great way for you and Terry to try and get along.

FLASHBACK

“Nora please! Pair me with anyone but him,” you begged your boss. You knew it was a strong possibility that she’d pair you with Terry, that doesn’t mean that you weren’t going to fight it.

“Tatum, try and look at it from my perspective. I’ve got two team leads who don’t get along, which is making it really hard for me to conduct meetings. You two can’t be in the same room for more than 5 minutes without world war three happening.”Nora says, closing her laptop. 

“Look at it like this, if my top two performers of my team are constantly butting heads, what kind of example do you think that’s going to set for your subordinates? You and Terry either find a way to deal with each other or both of you will have to think of a change in departments.” She finishes, her tone signifying that there’s no room for discussion. 

With a sigh you say, “Fine, I’ll do my best. Just make sure you tell that meathead the same thing.”

END FLASHBACK

With a huff you say, “I can’t believe Nora actually though pairing us together would work. We still have 3 hours left on the road.”

“It’ll go by quicker if you shut up,”Terry grumbles, reaching forward to turn his playlist up. 

“Ugh! And do we have to listen to classic rock the whole way? Nobody wants their eardrums to bleed  24/7 like you do” You add, positioning your body to stare Terry down. Despite hating his guts, Terry was fucking hot, and boy did he know it too. 

“Well, it’s better than listening to your voice all day, or at all for that matter,” Terry glances over at you, a teasing half smirk on his face. He reaches  for the volume switch on his steering wheel, turning the volume up yet again. 

He wasn't exactly sure how your rivalry started but Terry knew that he couldn’t stand you. How you were always so warm and glowy. Flashing your grossly attractive smile around the office like those knuckleheads deserved to be graced by the sun each morning. Walking around in your stupid clothes that seemed to cling to every curve, his eyes would always be drawn to your annoyingly plump ass. Terry hated your guts, but he could appreciate a fine woman. 

You roll your eyes at Terry’s comments, not wanting to further this verbal sparring session. Sliding your eye mask over your eyes, “Just wake me up when we get there,” you said, reclining your chair back.  

Terry lets out a defensive snort, clearly unimpressed with your dismissive attitude. “Fine, princess. Don’t let me disturb your beauty sleep.”

You roll your eyes, sitting in silence at Terry’s harsh words. “You’re insufferable,”you mumble under your breath. 

Terry just smirks, he laughs,a deep mocking sound that echoes throughout the car. “Insufferable? That’s rich coming from you Tatum. At least I’m honest about who I am and what I want.”

You snatched the eye mask off your face, a gentle rage brewing under the surface. “Don’t pretend that you know anything about me, Terry.”

Another chuckle leaves his mouth, a cold and mirthless sound. “Oh, I know plenty about you, Tatum. More than you like probably. After all, it's not hard to figure out what makes you tick when you’re so transparent.” He reaches forward, turning down the volume slightly, “You’re a puzzle, sure, but not a particularly complex one. Jealous, insecure, and secretly craving validation from those you despise.”

You scoff, meeting his eyes, “Please remind me when I asked for your lackluster input. You know nothing about me Terry.”

He raises both hands in mock surrender, a teasing smirk adorning his infuriatingly handsome face,”You didn’t have to ask, it’s written all over you. I figured since we’re stuck on this drive together, I might as well entertain myself by analyzing your pathetic attempts at independence.”

“Why are you like this?” you ask with a shake of your head. 

Terry pins you with his piercing green eyes, “We don’t have enough time to go through all of that, princess.”

“Well whether we like it or not we’re stuck together for the weekend. Obviously it seems like we’re not going to make any progress so how about we don’t speak to one another unless it’s absolutely necessary,”you say your hands wringing together. All of this hostility was triggering you, and you didn’t want to have a full fledged episode in front of Terry. 

He scoffs and rolls his eyes, “If that’s what you want, then so be it.” He adjusts his hands on the steering wheel focusing on the road. Terry looked seemingly lost in thought, but the set of his jaw and the rigid line of his shoulders betrayed his true state. You got under his skin, and he couldn't put his finger on why. Terry just knew he had to get you out of his system one way or another. 

You however, were fuming inside. How dare Terry pretend to even know a thing about you. It pissed you off even more to know that he was right. 

“You’ve been avoiding me around the office,” you start. “Whenever we need to come up with a proposal together, you send someone else in your place. You always leave the room when I enter it. What did I do to you to make you dislike me so much?”, you ask, your eyes burning holes in the side of his head. 

Terry sighs, “Avoiding you implies that I care more than I should. That is not the case.” His words are dismissive, but the way he keeps glancing at you could indicate otherwise. 

You huff in frustration, you’re not getting through to him, “So if you’re not avoiding me, what would you call it?”you press, tilting your head to the side slightly. “Because it feels like you’ve been going out of your way to avoid me these past few weeks.”

Terry flicks on the blinker before exiting the highway, within the next six minutes you’re parked at a ‘Buc-ee’s’. You watch as Terry takes a deep breath, seemingly composing himself before saying, “I’m focused on my work, performing well and efficiently. I don’t understand why you can’t get that through your thick fucking skull.”

The deflection pisses you off, “So why me then? You’re perfectly pleasant with everyone else in the office, but when I’m involved it’s different.” 

Terry’s eyes drift over you, a mask of indifference painting his face. “Is this conversation going anywhere? Or are you going to keep whining about not being liked?” 

You sigh with defeat, turning to face forward you decide to keep your mouth shut, this conversation doing more harm than good. 

“I’m just going to fill up and grab something to eat, do you want anything from inside?” Terry asks, grabbing his keys and wallet. You shake your head, ready for a few minutes alone to screw your head on straight. 

“Suit yourself, just don’t bother me if you’re hungry in an hour,” and with that, Terry gets out of the car. Halfway into the store, Terry turns back and spots you wiping your eyes. Something in his chest tightens at the fact that he made you cry. Your verbal sparring sessions would always be the highlight of his day, you always had a witty comeback, giving him a run for his money. He’s so lost in his thoughts about you, he doesn’t even realize that he’s next up in line. Terry places his order, getting something additional for you, then heads out. 

Back in the car, you call your mom, needing a pep talk from her. “Baby, sometimes two people just don’t get along. Just keep being you, that’s all you can do. I’m sure he’ll come around, what’s not to like?”

You sigh, “But mama, you don’t get it! He’s so frustrating, nobody’s ever gotten under my skin like this. It’s like he knows where and how to press my buttons. It’s getting tiring, Nora said we need to get along or she’ll transfer both of us.”

Your mother stays silent on her side of the phone. She knows her daughter, and her daughter just might have a crush on her work rival. “Are you sure there’s no other reason why you two don’t get along?”

Her statement stuns you, your train of thought coming to a complete halt. “Mama be serious, he’s told me time and time  again that I’m not his cup of tea,”you say, wrapping your cardigan tighter around midsection. Looking up you see Terry come out of the Buc-ee’s, bags in hand, making his way to the car.

“Look mama, I have to go but I’ll call you once we get settled in. I love you , bye” you say ending your call. Terry watches as you hang up the phone and pull down the sun visor to wipe away any moisture gathered under your eyes. Guilt heavy like a rock sat uncomfortably in his gut. He never wanted to make you cry, or feel bad about yourself. The truth is, he admires you, how you never seem to let the pressures of the day get to you. How you had a smile for everyone in the office, including Greg, who obviously wanted to fuck you. Always smiling your perfect smile at these people who didn’t deserve it, him included. 

Walking to the passenger side window, Terry taps twice to grab your attention. With a start, you meet Terry’s gaze through the tempered glass. Rolling your window down, you look at Terry over your librarian-esque glasses, something he finds oddly cute. 

Passing the bags of food through the open window. “I wasn’t sure what you liked so I got chicken, beef and tofu in case that’s your thing,” Terry said, his eyes refusing to meet yours. This was uncharted territory for him, he wasn’t the ‘thinking about others feelings’ type.  He liked to avoid attachments, they slow him down. Terry didn’t need another person he cared about being ripped from his life, he couldn’t take that pain again. 

“Terry? Are you good?” you ask when you notice Terry’s eyes went unfocused and he was lost inside his head.

Terry nods his head, handing you the food, “Yeah sweet girl, hold these for me. I’m going to fill up so we can hit the road.” You barely have time to respond before Terry’s on the other side of the car filling up. 

Where the fuck did that come from? You thought. Reaching into the back you pull out a chicken sandwich. Reaching for your drink, you notice Terry bought your favorite. His thoughtfulness sends a shiver down your spine. Terry might not think you’re a puzzle, but he definitely is, infuriating and alluring in equal measure. 

Once the tank is full, Terry slides back into the driver’s seat. You can feel the energy shift as he settled in. You glance over at him and you’re startled to find he’s already looking at you. 

“Look, I don’t want to spend the rest of this retreat biting each other’s heads off. Believe it or not Tatum, I don’t want to fight with you. It’s clear we both are passionate and have strong viewpoints.  For the sake of our jobs, and a cohesive work environment, I think we should just pretend to get along for the duration of the trip.” Terry looks over at you apprehensively, hoping what he just said didn’t piss you off. 

You sighed before turning your body to face Terry, “I don’t want to argue with you either, but pretending isn’t going to help anything when we have to go back to the office next week. I’ll do my best to not piss you off, all I ask is that you do the same.” You state, finally meeting Terry’s eyes. He’s looking at you with apprehension, sizing you up. 

“You’ve got a deal,” he says, outstretching his hand. You place your hand in his, the familiar spark shooting up your arm. Terry quickly slides his hand out of yours, starting the vehicle, you both head back out on the road. 

3 HOURS LATER 

“Well, look who finally decided to show up!” Nora exclaims, as Terry rolls both your suitcases into the hotel lobby. Despite being a complete asshole at least Terry was raised as a gentleman.

“Ha Ha, very funny Nora. Those directions you sent sucked,” Terry grumbled, taking his room key from Nora’s outstretched hand, not noticing the devious smirk her face held. You follow behind Terry outstretching your hand as well.  

Nora’s face pinches with nervousness, “So, umm, little mix-up with the rooms.” Terry stops abruptly. You watch his head hang, shoulders sag, and you hear a deep sigh come from him. 

“Does this mean what I think it does?” Terry asks, turning to face Nora. 

“Well somewhere during the registration process, the amount of rooms needed got mixed up. And since you two were the last to make it in, you guys have to room together. And before you ask, the hotel is fully booked for some medical conference.” Nora finished. This was obviously an uncomfortable conversation for her to have. Her face was red as hell. 

The last thing you wanted right now is to be rooming with Terry. But, being the people pleaser you are, you give Nora a small smile. “It’s only a few days Nora, I’m sure we won’t burn the hotel down.”

You hear Terry scoff behind you, “Speak for yourself.” You roll your eyes at his comment before patting Nora on the shoulder. With the deepest sigh you can muster, you head toward the elevator. 

“Tatum, wait,” Terry says. You turn and Terry takes in your exhausted expression. “I don’t think anyone should be subjected to my snoring. That’s all I meant,” Terry said, with a shrug of his shoulders. A sheepish smile forms on his lips.

Another heavy sigh leaves  your lips, “This isn’t ideal for me either, Terry. Do you think I want to be trapped in a room with someone who would rather be anywhere else?” Your enthusiasm meter had finally reached E. All you wanted was a hot shower, a face mask, and a glass or three of wine. Now you’d be spending your evening undoubtably bickering with Terry over what to watch. 

Terry’s smile fades, replaced by a grimace of discomfort. “Look, Tatum, I didn’t ask for this anymore than you did.” He rakes his hand down his face, the action oddly attractive to you. 

“But let’s get something straight: this isn’t personal. It’s complicated.” Your gaze flickers away from him, unable to hold his stare for long. “We can figure out a way to coexist, can’t we?” he asked, the smirk returning. 

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, there’s about fifty other things I’d rather be doing.” Terry turns, clearly dismissing you. 

An unamused chuckle leaves your lips as you stride past Terry toward the elevators. You may or may not have called him an asshole along the way. Terry scoffed, following behind you. A dark smirk rose on his face as he watched your ass move in the leggings you wore. Not that you needed it, but Terry could really see the difference the pilates classes were making. 

You two ride up the elevator in tense, annoyed silence. Terry insists on carrying both your luggage all the way to the room. “You can have the shower first, I’ll run out and grab us something to eat. So you can have privacy. Just text me when you’re decent.” Terry says, placing our luggage in a corner then heading to the bathroom. 

“Terry?” you ask, nervousness creeping its way up your spine. To your left there was one king bed. The indication is clear that you’d either be sharing a bed with Terry, or sleeping on a very unappealing loveseat.

A small sigh leaves Terry’s lips. He needed to put some distance between you two if he was going to keep his head in straight for the rest of this trip. “Yeah, Tatum?” he asks, you can hear the tiredness seep through the edges of his voice. 

With a deep breath you say, “I know this arrangement isn’t ideal for either of us. But, I appreciate you being a gentleman about everything. I think we’re both adult enough to manage sleeping next to each other for a few days. And don’t try to be coy about it, you can’t sleep on the floor for 3 nights. I won’t let you.” 

Terry opens his mouth to argue with you, but he sees the determination settled into your features and concedes. Usually, with anyone else he’d put up a fight,” Fine, fine, I’m sure we’ll figure something out.”

A triumphant smile blooms on your face, and Terry looks away. Your brows crease in confusion, until you see the tips of his ears begin to turn red. 

“Well, I’ll just go take a shower now. You don’t have to wait, I should be done in like an hour and a half.” You say, bending over to open your suitcase. You smirk deviously when you hear Terry’s sharp intake of breath behind you. 

“Right. I’ll see you in an hour and a half.” Terry says, and then he’s out the door. Before you have time to dwell on Terry’s abrupt exit, your phone rings. A small smile erupts when you see your sister’s contact appear on the tiny screen. Flipping open your phone, you press the green button, and put the phone up to your ear.

“Taryn, you always call when I’m about to do something,” you teased. You can practically hear your sister’s eyes roll through the phone.

“My timing is perfect then. I’m with mama we’re calling to check in on you,” your sister replies. 

You smile and shake your head, “We just got in. Apparently there was a mix-up with the reservation so Terry and I are going to be sharing a room for the next three days.” You say, pulling out everything you need for your shower routine. On the other side of the line your mom and sister are staring at each other, mouths hanging open. 

“Wait, you're going to share a room with someone you once called ‘green goblin’. And I don’t think you meant it in a nice way,” your sister said.

You sighed and rolled your eyes, “When is calling someone a goblin ever a term of endearment? Terry and I came to an agreement while we’re here, we’ll do our best to try and get along. Or we’ll fake it.” You finish with a shrug. 

“Riiight, an agreement. That hotel is going to burn down,” your sister finished with a cackle. 

You rolled your eyes, a dry chuckle leaving your lips. You’re sitting on the bathroom sink yapping with your sister and mom. Before you knew it you glanced at the clock and 30 minutes had passed. “Taryn I appreciate you and mama calling to check on me, but I need to shower before Terry gets back with the food. I’ll talk to y’all later. I love you.” Your sister, mother, and you all exchange goodbye’s and you hang up. 

Turning on the radio nestled on your nightstand, you start to gather everything for your extensive night routine. Landing on a random station, the sensual voice of Dru Hill floods your suite. Humming the melody, you begin to undress. Your body taking on an autopilot, the regular routine of cleansing yourself putting your stimulated mind at ease. It was nice to shut your brain off after spending all day at war with your emotions about your current predicament. 

You always admired Terry, his calm but loud presence, how self assured he was, and how he always seemed to know the answer before the question was asked. Searching through memories, you tried to find one that could pinpoint when the animosity started to take root, but you came up empty. Shaking your head, you try to ignore thoughts of Terry and focus on your shower. 

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

TERRY

“So, how was the drive up?” Maurice (co-worker) snickered, passing Terry a beer. 

Terry’s eyes were going to get stuck as much as he rolled them today. “Don’t even start that shit man, I came down here for a minute of peace.” Terry says, grabbing the beer and taking a large gulp. 

“So I take it you two didn’t solve your issues,” Maurice teases as he watches his usually calm, cool, and collected co-worker break a sweat. 

Terry scoffed, setting his beer down with a little more force than necessary, “No, Mo, we didn’t. In fact, she suggested that we just fake getting along for appearances.” Maurice studies his friend, the former marine usually never let anything get to him. Yet, here he was about to blow a gasket over their fine ass co-worker. His knee bouncing in irritation, the subtle but constant tick of his jaw.

“Aye, T, are you sure you’re good man? You just don’t usually get this rattled. Did Nora say something?” Maurice asked.

Terry shook his head, a grimace turning his face down. “Basically she told us if we can’t find a way to get along, then we’re both out.” Terry sighs, running his hand over his face in exasperation.

”I don’t know what it is, man. It’s like she found her way under my skin and is stuck there. Everything she does annoys me, c’mon man, you’ve seen how she is around the office.”Terry said, motioning the bartender to bring him another beer. 

“C’mon what? She’s a nice girl, cool to work with, really pretty, and has a great ass. What’s not to like?” Mo teases, hoping to get Terry riled up. 

Terry could feel his chest tighten at his friend’s obvious approval of your appearance. It was the same chest tightness he got when Greg would hold open doors for you and bring you your favorite Starbucks order.

“Aye, T, I’m going to say something. When I say this, just think, don't give me an answer. But have you ever thought that maybe you’re attracted to her?”

The question hits Terry like a ton of bricks, his beer frozen mid-air as Maurice looks at him with a knowing smile on his face. Was Terry attracted to you? ‘He couldn’t be’, he thought. But, deep down he knew the answer to Maurice’s question. Of course he was attracted to you. 

A knowing smile appears on Maurice’s face at Terry’s lack of answer,”You have three days to change her mind and think you aren’t the asshole you pretend to be. Look man, I get it, some people really just don’t like each other. But, I don’t think that’s the case here. Give Tatum a chance, she isn’t all bad. Figure it the fuck out, for everyone’s sake,” Maurice finishes. With two slaps to the back, Maurice leaves Terry in the hotel bar with his thoughts.

Was he attracted to you? Terry scoffed to himself, you were beautiful obviously. Intelligent, charming, funny as hell, and as much as he hated to admit it he loved working with you. The bickering arguments were the highlight of his day. Terry always made his coffee at 7:42am, because he knew 3-5 minutes later you would come strolling in, and he’d have the perfect view of your early morning strut, beaming smile, and a figure to kill for. 

The waiter comes out with a huge to-go bag full of foods that Terry thought you would like. With a deep sigh, Terry grabs his beer and the food, heading back up to your room.

The seductive sounds of Dru Hill filters through the bathroom door as Terry enters the suite. He tenses, muscles in his jaw ticking as he can hear you singing softly. 

He closes his eyes, inhaling deeply through his nose, an attempt to calm his suddenly racing heart. The image of you, naked and wet under the cascading water, flashes through his mind like abrupt bursts of light. He shakes his head, trying to banish his sinful thoughts of you. 

Walking over to the small kitchenette , Terry placed down the bag of food. Plating it, and setting out a glass of wine for you and beer for him. In the bathroom, you’re completely unaware of Terry’s presence. The cherry blossom scent of your shampoo fills your nose, its familiarity bringing you a sense of calm. 

Not to mention the radio station you picked was playing all your favorites. Detangling through your curls, you sang Mariah Carey’s ‘Obsessed’ damn near at the top of your lungs. Terry sat on the other side of the door with a small smile on his face at your carefree singing. Unable to sit any longer, Terry rises from the bed and begins to pace the room. His thoughts waging a war in his head. He stops in front of the window in your room, staring out at the city lights below without truly seeing them.

Whether he liked it or not, somehow you’d managed to worm your way under Terry’s skin. He had yet to decide if this was a good or bad thing for him. 

The bathroom door creaks open and Terry hears the startled gasp you let out behind him. “Oh, did I take too long? You set all the food up, thank you Terry!” You cooed, patting your hair dry with an oversized t-shirt.

You watch Terry’s tense shoulder as he turns to face you. You had forgone your contacts, black cat eye frames sat on your nose giving you an innocence that made Terry clench his fist. You looked so soft, not the office siren that strutted around and ruled her team with an iron fist. Just Tatum. 

You watch as Terry scratches the back of his neck, “Yeah, no problem. Think of it as phase one of my apology.”

Your eyes widen as you take in Terry's words, “Wait, did I transport to a parallel universe in the shower? You’ve never apologized to me before,” you say, skeptically. Your mind was reeling, there’s no way this is the same guy you arrived with. 

A bashful grin spreads across Terry’s face at your acceptance, “I’m turning over a new leaf here, now come please sit down,” he gestures to the sofa. “C’mon, sit with me,” Terry says, as he pats the spot next to him. 

You eye the food, then back up to Terry before saying, “Sure, just give me a minute, I don’t want my hair dripping all over you.” 

Terry nods, shooting you a small smile, “If your food gets cold, it’s on you,” he finishes, with a teasing tilt in his voice. You playfully roll your eyes as you try your best to soak up your damp hair with a t-shirt. 

“So what are we watching?” You ask, sitting next to Terry. The gentle brush of your bare thigh against his, causing goosebumps to bloom across your skin. 

Terry clears his throat before mumbling, “sports highlights.” He turns up the TV signaling that he wants silence.

A dry chuckle leaves your lips, “I see the asshole is back.” Reaching for your kindle and your food you settle into the couch completely prepare to tune Terry out for the rest of dinner, this was going to be a long 3 days. 

Okay y’all! Please Tell me what you guys think! I think this could be a 4 -5 part series. I hope you guys like it! I just wanted to get this out before I start flooding y’all with sinners/ MBJ fics. 

UNTIL NEXT TIME <3

TEE

[sillyteecup]

Second wind, but make it sweat

Aaron Pierre x black!o.c

Warnings:

18+

Language/swearing

Smut

Fingering

Oral (fem receiving)

P in V sex

Unprotected sex (🗣️ONE CONDOM ONE WHAT?)

Spitting

Hair pulling

Roughly translated Patois

Word count: 2799🧍🏾

A.N: I saw the picture when I woke up, wrote this during my study break (writing Psychology soon). So here’s something cool, calm and short. Also, new o.c unlocked!! If ever I write for Aaron himself again it’s gonna be with Sam, so just in case everybody say “hi Sam!” Anyway, I’m gonna disappear for the next 3 weeks for exams so I really hope y’all enjoy this for now. Thanks for reading❤️

~Tee❤️

If their walls could talk, oh the freaky little stories they would tell. The worst ones being of the days Aaron and Sam went to the gym together. A lovely tale of adrenaline and lust carried by affection.

How there would be no warning before the front door flies open with them stumbling through it. Mental maps guiding their steps through the house while their hands wandered freely on each other’s skin.

Soft hums and light gasps chronicling their desire for one another; the occasional smacking of lips like a little ad-lib. Not much of a word exchanged as Aaron awaits a command of direction.

“Kitchen.”

“Bedroom.”

“Bathroom over the sink.”

“Fuck it, right here,” a breathy word or two from Sam, activating him like a sleeper agent.

Their movements would grow more frantic; rushed. They understand how much time they have. They know they should probably take a shower first. But what’s a little more sweat? And why later when sooner is right there? So he’d hoist her up into the arms she adored so much and take her wherever she asked-we’re going to talk about the bathroom today-and alter her consciousness.

Another door flies open, banging against the wall with a force that would have had them both knocked upside their heads by their mothers. Sam’s usually nimble fingers tug at the hem of his shirt before lifting as far as she can reach. From there Aaron finishes the job, pulling it over his head and tossing it behind him, leaving his chain to gleam against his salty sheen covered chest. He returns her initial favour, but more gently to preserve her hair.

He was horny, not cruel.

His wide, soft palm cups the back of her neck while the fingers on his other hand tug her body closer by the waist band of her black Nike tights. Her honey coloured gaze speaks to him. Tells him she wants this as much as he does. Tells him she needs him. As much as he needs her. It calls him in, and he complies, fingers digging into some of the hair at her nape to angle her head upwards.

Their lips mingle for only a moment before getting comfortable with one another like old friends. Their tongues embrace and their bodies collide. Once again he has her entire weight in his arms, walking towards the large bathroom sink. He gently places her there and trails his lips across her jaw with the occasional soft kiss and tender pull of suction.

Her hands move across his shoulders, fingers trembling in need as she studies the skin of her constant undoing. Her parted lips are an instrument of his unraveling control. His kisses grow desperate, paired with teeth and grunts bordering on primal. Biting into her soft, chestnut skin, his hands make quick work of her tights. She assists with the quick lift of her ass from the granite the small counter space. Soon they’re but a distant memory. All Aaron and Sam can think about is what’s next.

Soon, Aaron is on his knees, soft lips planting a wet trail across her thighs. He doesn’t linger there too long though, as the scent of her arousal draws him to what lies beyond them. Aaron was never really a gentle eater. He was more of a “last supper” kind of guy. His tongue’s attack on titan was nothing new to Sam, yet it never failed to rock her world. The way he’d devour her with his entire face in it would always leave her breathless and numb in the head. 1, 2, 3 orgasms with nothing but the power of the tongue; it’s no wonder it doesn’t take much for her to get dick-dumb.

As the echoes of her desperate cries and her thighs vibrate against the sides of his head, he pulls back. His hazel irises have darkened considerably and his clean shaven chin is drenched in her. Always a messy eater when it comes to her. Slowly, he rises to his full height.

“Get down, let me see you properly first,” what should be a soft whisper, comes out as a gruff rasp. But his accent-oh his accent-keeps it tooth-rotting nonetheless. As she instinctively obeys, she just hopes her needs aren’t too weak.

The low yellow light illuminated her body, hypnotising Aaron. She looked like an angel whose skin was the halo. The mirror behind her reflects his thirsty ass expression and her rounded ass; stretch marks, cellulite and hand prints from 2 nights ago nearly send him into a spiral. The previously solid ponytail holding her goddess braids was looser now. The free curls framed her radiant face; gym days meant no makeup, just an intense glow from the workouts, and now having her thoughts ate out of her. The days didn’t matter much to Aaron though. To him, Sam always looked like a dream he never wanted to wake up from.

A cocky smirk stretched at her lips. “You like?” she teased, her silky voice making Aaron’s nervous system act a fool. Something inside him switches as his throat dries. His dick makes a bit of scene by jumping against his cotton sweats. Although his eyes narrow seemingly like a predator zeroing in on its pray, there isn’t a single thought in his brain anymore. No, that’s not true. There is one thought. Only one.

“I fucking love you.”

Without another breath, his hands plant themselves onto her waist, turning her around. His tattooed arm reaches around her neck. Her chin firmly in his hand, he tilts her head to the side as if creating access. Eyes trained hers through their reflections, he drags his tongue across her shoulder, stopping at the base of her neck. Back across the same shoulder he went, this time by wet, gentle kisses.

“Never forget that.”

Before Sam can respond, the hand cupping her chin is on the back of her neck, firmly folding her over the edge of the granite edge. His fingers find her slick folds and parts them for the pad of his thumb to find her clit. Her body shivers against his as his thumb works her into a pleading mess.

“Aaron-“

“Baby please.”

“Fuck me, please! I need you!” she cries, eliciting a dark chuckle from Aaron who increases the pressure of his thumb. For an extra gift, he inserts 3 fingers inside of her, stretching her sweetly around them. The action pulls out one of the most pornographic noises he had ever heard from her. All it does push him further.

His fingers curl.

They scissor.

They retreat.

They plunge back in.

Orgasm number 4 was more of a splash into his hand. Wetter than the previous 3 that’s for sure. Maybe that explained the tears in her eyes. And suddenly her ignored attempts to grab his wrist make all the more sense.

“You alright over there?” he taunts. Her teary browns met his playful greens, struggling to grasp the audacity of this man. Then her eyes widen in what seems like fear as she detects a certain glint in his irises. His lips curve slightly as a silent response. “What did I say you should never forget?” he asks her, his tone deceptively sweet.

“That you lo-AH!” she cries, her answer being sharply cut off by his fingers plunging right back into her. Two curls against her warm walls is all it takes for a 5th orgasm. And in a way she didn’t even know was possible, it’s messier and wetter than the 4th.

Aaron retracts his soaked fingers with the ghost of a sinister smirk across his features. His dry hand grabs the loose ponytail and wraps it around his fist. As if she weighs nothing, Sam’s back is arched inwards, bringing her face to face with Aaron.

“Hey,” is all he says before shoving his pussy covered fingers into her mouth. His fingers dance over her tongue as he essentially uses it to wipe them off. Right as it seems like he’s about to remove them however, they slide further down her mouth right past her uvula. She gags and chokes mindlessly, catching him wink as fucks the back of her throat with his fingers.

Okay, maybe he is a little cruel.

“You know, I’ve always found it fascinating how you still manage to look this fucking beautiful while being the nastiest little whore I’ve ever had the pleasure of encountering. Absolutely fucking amazing I tell you,” he muses. It’s at this point that Sam fully accepts her oncoming fate. However she still can’t tell you for the life of her what she did to earn it.

His fingers leave her mouth but not before using her spit to paint her lips. “What did I tell you not to forget just now?” Aaron asks again as his fingers run up and down the valley of her breasts.

“That you love me,” her reply comes out as a croak as a result of him treating her gag reflex like a toy.

“And I do, Sam. I really do,” he pauses to lean in and place a soft kiss on her cheek. “But now I’m going to ruin you.”

His hands are on her waist again as he takes a step forward, pressing her front against the sink. He pushes his pants and briefs to his thighs, releasing his impatient looking cock. A few quick strokes and a slight lift of her waist is all the prep she has before Aaron pushes roughly into her. A ragged moan is all Sam has to offer as her man bottoms out inside of her, stuffing her like a garage pie. With no hand holding her up, the pressure folds her right back over and has her hands inching for something to grab. Aaron isn’t having it though; he reaches for her ponytail again and yanks, only this time she’s flush against him. Holding her there is his meaty tattooed bicep, keeping her in what could be a headlock if she finds a way to test him.

With his other hand on her waist, he wastes no time with waiting for her to adjust and instead just rams into her torturingly slow. Each time he pulls out, her brain is tricked by his tongue and lips peppering kisses on her skin and it confuses itself with false relief. Until he slams right back into her, reaching her soul with his girthy tip. “Look at you…such a pretty little slut aren’t you? Mi deh fuck yuh foolish an’ yuh still look perfect, yuh si?” he groans. The pure eroticism in his tone mixed deliciously with the Patois he had taken to using as a weapon formed against her…

Samkelisiwe Pierre never stood a chance.

Aaron’s strokes, although measured and deep, are unrelenting. The precision at which he hits that sweet, sweet spot makes Sam feel like there’s a secret mission afoot. Like there are other forces at hand. If only she had the power to at the very least fight back against them. Never resist or stop them though. Not when they had her seeing stars like this. Not when they had her stomach doing cartwheels around the pressure building up.

“Fuck, daddy…feels so mmh…gonna cum,” she breathes out.

“Is that right? ‘Cause I don’t recall you asking me to.” To the untrained ear, it sounds like an observation, a comment, a note. But Sam’s ears are seasoned. She’s fluent in “Aaaronese” and to her, this is a veiled warning. He’s daring her to do it without asking.

Unfortunately for both of them, she spoke too late and is too close to turn back. There’s nothing she can do to stop the orgasmic freight train that’s coming at her at lightning speed. Nothing she can bite hard enough to quell the guttural scream that escapes her throat. And unfortunately, there’s no amount of clenching that could stop the 6th wave of pleasure pouring from her onto his dick.

All of it happens so fast; so hard, that she can’t even feel the subtle change in pace as she rides it out. He’s going slower, but only so little that she can’t tell the difference. He should be upset…in fact he should be livid at her blatant disregard. But damn, he couldn’t help but be softened by the way her features twisted and relaxed in euphoria. He also understands that there wasn’t much she could do to stop it. Not after a whole workout and…well.

His arm releases her neck, allowing her more breathing room. She places her hands on one of the sinks, using it to brace herself while she takes in their reflection in the mirror. Aaron is still knee-deep inside of her, letting her recover with a more gentle tempo.

“I’m sor-“ she’s quickly cut off by an even sharper stroke. Then another. Then another. All increasing in pace until all it is is just Aaron pounding into her like a mad man. He may have forgiven her last transgression; that doesn’t mean he’s in the mood to hear her lie about her remorse.

The soft grunts painted on his lips accompany her cries of wanton. He’s chasing his own release. He hadn’t originally planned to do it this soon, but Sam derailed his plans. Now he just wants to paint her walls then clean her off in the shower; take care of her for the rest of the night.

He continues to slam into her, pace completely unrelenting but tempo growing sloppy. He’s close, and judging by the way she’s clenching around him, she was too. He leans forward, kissing her along the jaw and her cheek. Her dazed eyes find him through the mirror. There’s drool on the corner of her lip, so he does what any good man would do. He licks it up and lets it mingle with his own saliva before using one of his hands to cup her chin and turn her face towards him.

Almost like she can hear his thoughts, her mouth is slightly open with her tongue sticking out. Little phantoms of his name trail out, waiting on the gift he’s about to give her.

And it comes in the form of a slow, long line of spit, directly on her tastebuds. And like that, the hard earned white ring around his dick grows. Sam’s grip on him warrants one last punishing thrust; one that shakes her to her core and drowns her in powerful tides of pleasure. Her walls hug him tightly and coax his own release out of him. Aaron has no choice but to comply. With a strained groan, his dick twitches, spasms then let’s go, making a complete mess inside of her to match the one outside.

Having emptied himself completely, he pulls out, still leaning on her back. “You know, other couples usually take showers after the gym,” she giggles, back vibrating against his head.

“Love that for them sweetheart. I generally prefer a snack and some cardio,” he teases hoarsely, planting a soft smack on the side of her ass. Sam glares playfully through their reflections, shaking her head at the innuendo. “I won’t hold you though, that shower does sound like a good time right now,” he adds.

“I hear you. But then knowing you, it could turn into you catching your third wind,” she jokes. His head snaps up, mischief shining in his eyes.

“I mean if you don’t mind-“

“Hayi hayi hayi! Mna, I’m tired. Actually, get off my back before you put that thing back inside me. In fact, ingathi I’m going to shower alone,” her tone is firm, but Aaron can hear the humour below. Besides, she hates showering alone so even if he couldn’t, he would know she’s bluffing.

Still, he listens, standing up straight and moving to lean against the sink himself with his back facing the mirror. He pulls her in for a soft kiss, their lips having a tender little slow dance. The taste of her still on his tongue mingles with the taste of litchi flavoured water and his spit.

Sam shifts a little, finding herself in between his legs with her hands against his chest. His hands travel down to her ass, offering a quick squeeze. A sharp gasp escapes her lips and is quickly stolen by Aaron. Her smooth fingers trace his skin, skating down his abs and stopping right where his happy trail starts. Suddenly, he feels her palm him, and it stops him in his tracks.

Surely they can wait 20 more minutes for that shower. He’d even cook for her right afterwards, whatever she wants too. Just one more round-

“Don’t even think about it big boy. You’re not getting another workout out of me.”

[keehendrixx]

𝕱𝖔𝖗𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗 𝖄𝖔𝖚𝖗𝖘, 𝕱𝖔𝖗𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗 𝕸𝖎𝖓𝖊 

Warnings: MDNI! Vampire!Terry, Smut, Supernatural, Transformation, Sadistic, Submissive! Reader, Dominant!Terry, Cum Fucking, Dirty Talk, Oral (Fem Receving), Multiple Creampies

Song: Touch Me- Victoria Monet

Terry watched as you came into the coffee shop from his booth. His eyes flickered to a deep shade of red before returning to their normal shade of color. 

Terry's eyes locked onto you as soon as you entered, taking in every curve of your voluptuous figure. He felt an instant, inexplicable attraction towards you; your golden hazel amber eyes seemed to glow with an inner fire, drawing him in like a moth to a flame. As you approached the counter, Terry found himself rising from his seat almost involuntarily, moving closer for a better look at you. 

“Hey there,” he said smoothly, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine despite its casual tone. “I don't think I've seen you around here before. I'm Terry.” He extended a large, tattooed hand towards you, his heterochromatic eyes—swirling pools of blue, green, and gray—gazing at you intently.

“Hi, I’m Elyse.” You said before sitting down in the booth across from him. 

Terry smiled charmingly as he shook your hand, his grip firm yet gentle. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Elyse. That’s a beautiful name for a beautiful woman.” His gaze appreciatively took in your curves before quickly returning to your face. “What brings someone as stunning as you to our little corner of the world?”

You wondered for a minute what he meant by ‘our little corner of the world’. You shrugged it off and continued with the conversation. 

He leaned casually against the counter, his tall, muscular frame radiating an aura of raw masculine energy barely contained beneath his casual attire. The scent of his cologne mingled enticingly with the aroma of coffee beans. “I must admit, seeing a face as captivating as yours light up this shop is quite a pleasant surprise. It almost feels like fate brought you here, don’t you think?” 

“I just moved here from Texas, I got a new job offer.” You said as you took a sip of your Vanilla Bean Frappe. 

“That’s nice, what kinda work do you do?” 

“I work with big law firms, so I’m always moving around. Hopefully with this one, I can stay put for at least 3 years.” 

Terry's eyes lit up with genuine interest, revealing something more intense. 

"Welcome to the town, Elyse. It’s always exciting to welcome fresh faces, especially ones as striking as yours." 

He darted his tongue out to wet his full lips, briefly glancing at your ample cleavage before meeting your eyes again. 

"A new start in a new place can be both thrilling and daunting. If there's anything I can do to make your transition smoother, please don't hesitate to ask." His deep voice was warm and inviting, with an undercurrent of promise. 

 "I know all the best spots in town - great restaurants, hidden gems, places where a gorgeous woman like you might enjoy spending her time." He reached out to brush a stray lock of your hair behind your ear, his fingers grazing your cheek ever so lightly.

"So tell me, Elyse, how are you liking your new home?" Terry asked, genuinely curious about the intriguing woman who had so suddenly captured his attention. He leaned in slightly, eager to hear her response and catch another whiff of her intoxicating scent. 

As she spoke, Terry's eyes remained locked on her face, hanging on every word. The way her full lips moved and the sparkle in those mesmerizing eyes made it hard for him to look away. A part of him wanted to reach out and touch her again, to feel the softness of her skin, but he restrained himself, not wanting to come on too strong.

"I have a feeling you're going to do great things here, Elyse. With a presence like yours, how could you not?"

As the conversation flowed, Terry found himself increasingly captivated by your wit, charm, and beauty. He laughed heartily at your jokes and nodded enthusiastically as you shared your hopes and plans for your new life in the city. The easy rapport between you felt electric, charged with unspoken possibilities. 

Lost in the moment, Terry barely noticed the sun beginning to set outside, casting long shadows across the coffee shop interior. However, as the light changed, he felt a subtle shift within himself, an ancient power stirring to life. For the briefest moment, his eyes flashed with an otherworldly red glow before he blinked it away, hoping you hadn't noticed. But little did he know, you did see it. 

"Well, Elyse, I'd love to continue this delightful conversation, but I'm afraid I have some evening commitments to attend to," Terry said reluctantly, glancing at his watch. "But I insist on getting your number."

And what exactly ‘evening commitments’ were so important to him? 

“Oh sure, I don’t want to hold up your time. I’ll put my number in your phone.” You said while getting up from the booth. 

Terry's face broke into a delighted grin at your agreement. He quickly pulled out his phone, unlocked it, and handed it to you. "Here, go ahead and put your number in. I promise I won't spam you with texts... unless you want me to," he added with a playful wink. 

As you entered your contact information, Terry's mind raced with thoughts of all the ways he could see you again and get to know you better. The primal part of him yearned to taste your blood, to claim you as his own, but he ruthlessly suppressed those dark urges. No, he wanted to court you properly, to seduce you with charm and romance rather than brute force.

"There we go," you said, handing his phone back. Terry made sure to let his fingers brush against yours during the exchange, savoring the brief contact.

“Thank you, Elyse. I look forward to staying in touch,” Terry said, tucking his phone away and giving you one last intense look from beneath his lowered lashes. “Until next time, then. And trust me, there will be a next time.” With that promise lingering in the air, Terry turned and strode out of the coffee shop, his powerful body moving with fluid grace. 

As he stepped into the deepening twilight, he allowed his vampiric nature to emerge fully, his eyes glowing crimson in the gathering darkness. Soon, very soon, he would see you again under the cover of night. And when he did… A slow, wicked smile spread across Terry's handsome face as he disappeared into the shadows, already plotting his next move in his pursuit of you. 

That night, as you walked home from running errands, you couldn't shake the feeling that you were being watched. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up, and a chill ran down your spine despite the mild evening air. You quickened your pace, hugging your purse tightly to your side. 

Suddenly, a dark figure emerged from the shadows of a nearby alleyway. Your heart leapt into your throat as you recognized Terry stepping into the dim light of the streetlamp. But something was different about him now. His eyes glowed an eerie, supernatural red, and his movements were unnaturally smooth and silent. 

"Elyseeee,"  Terry purred, his deep voice echoing in the empty street. "Fancy meeting you here. Perhaps it wasn't mere chance that drew me to this spot, knowing you would pass by..."

“T- Terry?”  You were shocked, half of you wanted to run away, but the other half was intrigued by his nature. This wasn’t the same man you met in the coffee shop hours ago. 

Terry chuckled darkly, the sound sending shivers down your spine. He stepped closer, his movements graceful and predatory. "The one and only," he said, a hint of mischief in his voice. "Though I suspect I may not be quite what I seemed earlier today."  His eyes raked over your trembling form, lingering on the rapid pulse fluttering at the base of your throat. Terry licked his lips, revealing the glint of sharp fangs. 

"I hope you're not frightened, my dear. I would never hurt you… much."  The last words were spoken in a husky whisper filled with dark promise. In a flash too quick for human eyes, Terry closed the distance between you, pressing you back against the brick wall of the alley. One large hand gripped your chin, tilting your face towards his, while his other arm caged you in, preventing any chance of escape. 

A scream erupted from your lips, but Terry quickly suppressed it. 

Terry's hand clamped over your mouth, muffling your scream as he pressed his body against yours, pinning you helplessly to the wall. “Shh, shh, none of that now,” he crooned, his breath hot against your ear. “We wouldn't want to attract unwanted attention, would we? Not when we have so much catching up to do.” 

His free hand trailed down the side of your neck, fingertips lightly grazing your racing pulse. Terry inhaled deeply, savoring your scent—the mixture of fear and arousal, the sweet aroma of your blood thrumming beneath your skin. It took every ounce of his self-control not to sink his fangs into your tender flesh at that moment. 

“You must have so many questions, my sweet Elyse,” Terry murmured, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

“Let me go!” 

Terry's grip tightened fractionally, holding you firmly in place even as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck, inhaling your intoxicating scent. 

“Oh, I don't think I will, darling. Not when I've waited so long to have you like this.” 

 His tongue flicked out, tracing the column of your throat in a teasing caress. Slow and deliberately, Terry began to grind his hips against yours, letting you feel the evidence of his desire. 

“Can't you feel how much I want you? How perfectly do we fit together?”  He nipped at your earlobe, tugging it gently with his teeth. “Please give in to me, Elyse. Let me show you pleasures beyond your wildest dreams.”  One hand slid down to grope your ass, squeezing the plush flesh possessively.

Something in you zapped you back into your senses, causing you to push him off. “No! Get off of me!”

Terry froze at your vehement refusal, surprise flickering across his handsome features. For a long moment, he simply stared at you, his crimson eyes boring into yours with an almost painful intensity. Then, slowly, he released his hold on you and took a step back, though he remained close enough for you to feel the heat radiating off his body. 

"You truly wish for me to stop?" There was a note of confusion in his deep voice, as if he couldn't quite comprehend your rejection. Terry searched your face for any sign of deception or hesitation. Finding none, he sighed heavily and ran a hand down his face. "Very well, Elyse. I will respect your wishes—for now." His words were tinged with reluctance and a hint of warning. "But know this: I am not done with you."

Terry took another step back, giving you space to breathe even as his eyes continued to rake over your disheveled form with a hungry gaze. “I miscalculated, it seems. I thought... I hoped you might feel the same undeniable attraction I do.” He shook his head ruefully. “But I am nothing if not a gentleman. Well, mostly.” A wry smirk played at the corners of his mouth. “Run along home now, my dear. Get some rest. And perhaps... reflect on what might have been.” 

Terry's voice dropped to a low, seductive purr as he finished his sentence. He turned to fade back into the shadows of the alley, pausing to glance over his shoulder at you. “Sweet dreams, mamas. I know mine will be haunted by thoughts of you.”

As Terry disappeared into the darkness, leaving you alone and shaken in the alley, you felt a confusing mix of relief and disappointment. Your body still thrummed with adrenaline from the encounter, and your skin tingled where his hands had touched you. Over the next few days, you tried to put the incident out of your mind, focusing on settling into your new apartment and starting your job. However, you couldn't shake the memory of Terry's smoldering gaze, the heat of his body pressed against yours, and the dark promises in his voice. Late one night, as you lay in bed staring at the ceiling, your phone buzzed with an incoming text. It was from an unknown number, but you instinctively knew who it was from before even opening the message: "I find myself thinking of you constantly, Elyse."

You set your phone down, purposely ignoring him. You didn't need this tonight. 

Terry frowned when he noticed that you hadn't responded to his text, a flicker of irritation crossing his mind. He was accustomed to women vying for his attention, eager for his touch and affection. Your cool reception was intriguing—almost challenging. Undeterred, Terry sent another message a few hours later: 

"I can practically hear your heartbeat from here, Elyse. It races whenever you think of me. Don't try to deny it."

At this point, you were scared, mesmerized, and frustrated that you just decided to turn your phone off completely so he wouldn’t distract you anymore, so you could get some sleep. 

Terry growled in frustration as he realized that you had turned off your phone, denying him access to you once again. This mortal's resistance was both infuriating and exhilarating. He couldn't remember the last time someone had captured his interest so thoroughly. Rising from his chair in the dimly lit study of his spacious apartment, Terry paced restlessly, his mind consumed with thoughts of you. Your defiance, your beauty, and the tantalizing scent of your blood called to him like a siren song. Unable to resist any longer, Terry slipped out into the night, moving with preternatural speed and silence. In an instant, he was outside your home. He stood outside your window, peering in at your sleeping form. Even in slumber, you were exquisite, your chest rising and falling with each breath.

Terry's eyes roamed hungrily over your exposed skin, taking in the swell of your breasts above the sheets and the long expanse of your legs. He longed to touch you, to taste you, to claim you completely. But he held himself back, not wanting to catch you off guard. Instead, he reached out and gently tapped on the glass, the sound barely audible over the distant noises of the city. When you didn't stir, he tapped again, a bit louder this time. "Come on, princess. Wake up for me." 

Terry's voice echoed in your mind, a telepathic whisper that penetrated your unconscious state. He smiled wickedly as he sensed your mind beginning to awaken, your eyelids fluttering. "That's it, darling. Open those beautiful eyes for me. I've missed you."

As your eyes snapped open, wide with shock and confusion, Terry grinned triumphantly. He could see the exact moment recognition dawned on your face, swiftly followed by wariness and a hint of fear. Good. He wanted you to be aware; he wanted you to know exactly who was intruding upon your dreams. 

"Hello again, my sweet," Terry said, his deep voice resonating directly in your mind. "Did you think you could escape me so easily? That turning off your phone could keep me away?" He chuckled darkly, the sound reverberating through your very bones. 

Terry placed a hand on the windowpane, his palm flat against the cool glass. In your dream state, it almost seemed to phase through, reaching for you. "I've been thinking about you non-stop since our little encounter."

You reached your phone, double-locking your doors through your security system app. 

Terry threw his head back and laughed, a rich, sinister sound that echoed through the empty streets. Your futile attempts to protect yourself against him only served to amuse and arouse him further. "Oh, you precious thing. You can lock down this entire building, and it won't make a difference. I can slip past any barrier, whether material or mental." 

To prove his point, Terry’s image began to flicker and distort, phasing through the glass as if it were no more substantial than mist. In an instant, he was standing at the foot of your bed, his tall, muscular form looming over your huddled shape. The temperature in the room plummeted, and your breath fogged in the frigid air. "I'm not limited by the constraints of the physical world, my dear. In here…" He tapped his temple meaningfully.

“AHHH!”  You screamed as you hurriedly ran downstairs and locked yourself in the basement

Terry’s laughter followed you as you fled, echoing through the house like a sinister chorus. He appeared at the top of the basement stairs just as you slammed and locked the door. His crimson eyes gleamed with cruel amusement in the darkness.

“Running away, are we? How delightfully old-fashioned,” he drawled, his voice seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. “But I’m afraid there’s nowhere in this house, or this realm, that you can hide from me, my sweet Elyse.”

The door rattled in its frame as an unseen force pushed against it, the wood creaking ominously. Terry’s chuckle sent shivers down your spine. “This game of cat and mouse is growing tiresome. Why don’t you come out and play properly?”

You picked somewhere to hide if he came into the basement, and judging by how hard he was trying to push the door, he was coming in. 

Terry's eyes narrowed as he sensed your movement, your quickened heartbeat revealing your location. A slow, wicked smile spread across his handsome face. "Clever girl, trying to hide from me. But it’s pointless, you know. I can smell your fear and taste your anticipation in the air." 

Suddenly, the basement door burst open with a deafening crack, splinters flying as Terry effortlessly tore it from its hinges. He descended the stairs with predatory grace, his gaze locked onto the shadowy corner where you crouched, desperately trying to make yourself small. 

"There you are," he purred, stalking toward you with single-minded intent. "Playing hard to get, are we? I do so love a challenge." 

Terry reached out, his fingers closing around your wrist in an iron grip as he pulled you to your feet.

Terry pulled you tightly against his chest, one hand tangling in your hair to tilt your head back, exposing the vulnerable column of your throat. His eyes blazed with hunger as they took in every detail of your flushed cheeks, parted lips, and wide, frightened eyes. 

"You can't run from this, from us," he growled, his voice rough with desire. "I've chosen you. You're mine now, whether you accept it or not." 

Terry leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he whispered, "Stop fighting it. Surrender to me, and I'll show you pleasure beyond your wildest imaginings."

“Feel that, Elyse?”  he murmured, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your ass as he ground his erection against you. “That's what you do to me. What you always have. I've been waiting for this moment, for you to finally give in to what you know is true.” 

 His grip on your hair tightened, forcing your head back further as his lips hovered just above yours. “You want me. You always have. Admit it”. His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. “Or shall I remind you how powerless you are against me?”  

With a sudden, brutal motion, Terry yanked you closer, pressing his lips against yours in a kiss that was more domination than affection. His tongue forced its way into your mouth, claiming you with a ferocity that left you breathless.

The kiss was everything you had imagined and more—intense, demanding, and utterly consuming. His lips moved against yours with practiced precision, his tongue exploring every inch of your mouth as if mapping it out for future conquests. You felt dizzy, overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of his touch, the way his body pressed against yours like a living furnace. 

When he finally pulled back, his eyes burned with an unnatural red glow, and his breath came in ragged pants. "See?" he rasped, his thumb brushing across your lips. "You can't fight what you are. You belong to me. And I will have you—one way or another." 

With that, Terry effortlessly lifted you into his arms, carrying you toward the far end of the basement where the shadows were deepest. "Now, let's see if you can resist me when I really start to play."

“You’re a fucking monster!” You yelled at him. 

Terry paused mid-step, his expression shifting from desire to a chilling coldness. “Monster?” he repeated, his voice a deep, dangerous rumble. “Is that what you think of me? After everything I've shown you?” He set you down gently, but the tenderness was gone, replaced by something darker and colder. His eyes burned with fierce intensity as he loomed over you. 

“I could have taken you without your consent, without your permission. I could have drained you dry and left you for dead. But I didn’t. I gave you choices. I gave you chances.” He stepped closer, his presence dominating the space between you. “And yet, you call me a monster?” His lips curled into a sneer.

"Do you know what real monsters are, Elyse? They don’t beg for mercy. They don’t cower in the dark. They don’t waste their time on weak, foolish mortals who refuse to see the truth." His voice dropped to a venomous whisper. "You think I’m the monster? Maybe you’re right. Maybe I am."

He reached out, his fingers grazing your cheek with a cruel gentleness. "But don’t mistake me for the devil. I’m something else entirely. Something far worse." His grip tightened, his nails digging into your skin. "Because I’m not here to destroy you. I’m here to claim you. To make you mine. And I will."

With that, Terry’s expression shifted again, a wild, feral hunger flashing in his eyes. "So tell me,do you want me to stop?"

You knew you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him no, so you just stood there, playing with your fingers, and he sensed your answer. 

A slow, satisfied smile spread across Terry's face as he noticed the conflict raging behind your eyes. "Ah, there it is," he murmured, tilting your chin up with his fingers so he could look directly into your pupils. "The truth. You don’t want me to stop. You never did." His grip on your chin loosened slightly, and his thumb brushed softly across your lips in an almost tender gesture. "You're afraid, yes. Terrified, even. But underneath that fear, there's something else. Longing. Desire. You want me as much as I want you." 

Terry’s other hand slid down your back, gripping your waist as he pulled you closer. His body pressed against yours with deliberate intention. "Don't lie to yourself, baby. You know what you want. You just don't know how to say it."

“Let me show you,” he whispered, his lips hovering just above yours. “Let me show you what you’re missing.” With that, he kissed you again—this time softer and more gentle, yet no less intense. His lips moved against yours with careful precision, his tongue tracing the outline of your mouth as if memorizing every curve. As the kiss deepened, Terry's hands slid to your back, slipping beneath the fabric of your shirt to press his palms against your bare skin. His touch was electric, sending waves of sensation coursing through your body. You found yourself responding, your arms wrapping around his neck and your fingers tangling in his hair. “You feel it, don’t you?” Terry murmured against your lips. “The connection. The pull. You can’t deny it anymore, can you?”

"You're mine now, Elyse," he breathed, his fingers digging into your back as he pulled you tighter against him. "Not just physically, but mentally and emotionally. You can't escape what's happening between us; you never could." His lips moved to your neck, kissing and nibbling along the sensitive skin, his tongue tracing the line of your pulse. "You're going to want me. You're going to need me. And I'll be here every second of every day, making sure you understand what you've given up by resisting me."

 Terry's hand slid down to cup your ass, lifting you slightly as he pressed his erection against you. “So why fight it? Why deny what you know is true? His voice dropped to a sultry whisper. Just surrender, baby. Let me make you mine.”

You gasped as his words sent shivers down your spine, your body betraying you by arching into his touch. "Terry," you whispered, your voice barely audible, "you know I can't just give in that easily." His response was a low chuckle, his breath hot against your ear. "Who said anything about easy, Elyse?" he murmured. 

"I want you to earn it. Earn every fucking touch, every kiss, every whisper of my name on your lips. I want you to fight me, and then I want you to submit. I want to break you down until all that's left is your raw, desperate need for me." 

His hand moved to tangle in your hair, tilting your head back to expose your throat. "And then, baby, I'm going to build you back up, piece by fucking piece, until you're mine in every way that matters." His lips crashed down on yours, hungry and demanding, leaving no doubt in your mind that he meant every single word.

“Say it, Elyse,” Terry demanded, his voice a low, seductive growl. “Tell me you’re mine. Tell me you want this. Want me?” His hand slid under your shirt, fingers pressing against the small of your back, holding you flush against him. You could feel your heart racing and your skin flushing with heat. Your body knew the truth, even if your mind was still trying to catch up.

He nipped at your earlobe, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. “Stop overthinking. Stop resisting. Just feel.” Terry's other hand tangled in your hair, tugging your head back to expose more of your neck. He licked a hot stripe up your throat, tasting your pulse point. “Could you give in to me, Elyse? Give yourself to me completely. I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

You let out a soft moan, your body melting into his touch as you struggled to find the words. "Terry," you breathed, your voice shaky with desire and uncertainty. "I... I want to. God, I want to." His grip on your hair tightened slightly, a silent encouragement to push through your hesitation. 

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, your eyes fluttered closed as you surrendered to the sensation of his body against yours. "I'm yours," you whispered, the words sending a shiver of finality and excitement down your spine. "I want this. I want you." A low, satisfied growl rumbled in his chest as he crushed his lips to yours in a searing kiss that left no room for doubt. 

His hands roamed your body, possessive and claiming, as if marking his territory. "That's my girl," he murmured against your lips, his voice filled with triumph and hunger. "Now let me show you just how good it can be."

Terry captured your lips in a searing kiss, pouring all of his pent-up passion and hunger into the embrace. His tongue delved into your mouth, stroking along yours, coaxing you to respond. At the same time, his hands began to wander, caressing your curves with bold strokes.

He broke the kiss to trail his lips down your jawline, pausing to suck at your pulse point hard enough to leave a mark.

“You're going to look so beautiful covered in my bites and bruises, Terry growled appreciatively. Everyone will know you belong to me.” 

His hands made quick work of your clothing, pushing your shirt up and over your head before deftly unhooking your bra. Cool air hit your heated skin, making your nipples pebble instantly.

You gasped at the sensation, your body arching into his touch as he cupped your bare breasts, his thumbs circling your hardened nipples. "Terry," you moaned, your hands gripping his shoulders for support as your knees threatened to buckle. He leaned down, taking one taut peak into his mouth, sucking and nipping until you were a writhing, desperate mess. He switched to the other breast, giving it the same tormented attention, his hands roaming lower to unbutton your jeans. "Please," you begged, not even sure what you were begging for, only knowing that you needed more. He chuckled against your skin, the vibration sending shivers down your spine. "What do you need, baby?" he murmured, his voice a low, teasing drawl. "Tell me, and it's yours."

“You taste even better than I imagined.” Terry rumbled against your skin, his voice vibrating through you. He released your nipple with a wet pop, blowing cool air over the damp peak and watching it pucker even more.

His hands slid down to your hips, gripping them possessively as he ground against you. “I'm going to take you right here.”  He declared, his tone brooking no argument. “I'm going to bend you over and bury myself inside you until you scream my name.”

Terry's fingers hooked into the waistband of your pants, tugging them down your legs along with your underwear in one swift motion. He kicked them aside carelessly, leaving you bare and exposed to his hungry gaze. “Spread your legs for me, baby.” He commanded, his pants 

straining over his obvious arousal.

You complied, your breath hitching as you stepped out of your pants and slowly widened your stance, feeling vulnerable and exposed, but also incredibly turned on. His eyes roamed over your body, taking in every inch of you with a hungry, possessive gaze that made you feel like the most desirable thing in the world. 

"Fuck, Elyse," he growled, his voice thick with lust. "You have no idea how long I've wanted this. How long I've wanted you." He reached out, his fingers tracing the curve of your hip, then sliding down to cup your ass, pulling you against him so you could feel his hard length pressing against your stomach. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a fierce kiss as his other hand delved between your legs, his fingers finding your wet, sensitive folds. 

You moaned into his mouth, your body bucking against his touch, seeking more friction, more pressure. "So fucking ready for me," he murmured against your lips, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips as he began to circle your clit, his touch both teasing and torturous. "I'm going to enjoy this. I'm going to enjoy every fucking second of it."

“You're dripping for me already, he observed, his voice a low, approving growl. “Your body knows exactly what it needs.”

Without warning, he leaned in and dragged his tongue through your folds, groaning at your taste. Delicious, he purred, diving back in to lap at your essence. His tongue circled your clit, flicking over the sensitive bundle of nerves before dipping lower to thrust inside you.

Terry set a relentless pace, fucking you with his tongue while his hands held your thighs apart. He alternated between broad strokes and targeted flicks, reading your reactions and adjusting accordingly. 

You cried out, your hands tangling in his hair as you held him against you, your hips bucking wildly against his face. The sensation was overwhelming, his tongue moving with a skill and intensity that left you breathless and desperate for release.

 "Terry, please," you begged, your voice hoarse with need. "Don't stop. Oh god, don't stop." He responded with a low, rumbling growl that vibrated against your sensitive flesh, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. He slid two fingers inside you, curling them to hit that hidden spot that made your eyes roll back in ecstasy. His tongue continued its relentless assault on your clit, the dual sensations pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

 "Come for me, Elyse," he commanded, his voice muffled against your skin. "Let me feel you fall apart on my tongue." Your body obeyed, your muscles clenching around his fingers as a powerful orgasm ripped through you, leaving you shaking and gasping for air. He slowed his movements, gently lapping at you as you rode out the waves of pleasure, a satisfied smirk on his lips as he looked up at you from between your thighs. "That's my girl," he purred, his eyes gleaming with a mix of pride and unbridled lust.

As your climax crashed over you, Terry sealed his lips around your clit and sucked hard, prolonging your pleasure. His fingers continued their relentless thrusting, helping to ride out the waves of your release. He lapped at your flowing juices, savoring your taste as he worked you through your orgasm.

Only when the last aftershock had faded did Terry slowly withdraw, licking his lips with a satisfied smirk. Mmm, you taste even better when you come undone, he purred, crawling back up your body. He captured your lips in a searing kiss, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

Breaking away, Terry quickly shed his clothes, revealing his impressive physique. His dick jutted out proudly, long and thick and already leaking at the tip. “I hope you're ready for round two.”

You panted, your eyes wide with anticipation as you took in the sight of him. 

"I am," you whispered, your voice hoarse from your earlier cries. "I'm ready." He smirked, positioning himself at your entrance, the head of his cock pressing against your sensitive, swollen flesh. "Good," he rumbled, his voice a low, dangerous growl. "Because I'm about to fuck you so hard you'll feel me for days." 

With that, he thrust into you, filling you in one swift, powerful stroke. You cried out, your nails digging into his back as your body stretched to accommodate him. He began to move, his hips snapping against yours in a frenzied, primal rhythm. Each thrust was deep and purposeful, designed to hit that spot inside you that sent sparks of pleasure shooting through your veins. 

"Fuck," he grunted, his breath hot against your ear. 

"You feel so good. So tight. So fucking perfect." His words spurred you on, your body meeting his thrusts with equal fervor, your hips rolling and grinding against him as you chased your next release. The room filled with the sounds of your passion—the slapping of flesh, your ragged breaths, and the wet, obscene noises of his cock driving into you. It was raw, it was intense, and it was everything you needed.

“Take it”, he snarled, one hand fisting in your hair, the other gripping your hip hard enough to leave finger-shaped bruises. “Take every inch of my dick. This is what you were made for, what you've been craving.”

You moaned, the harsh grip on your hair and hip only serving to heighten your arousal. "Yes," you gasped, your voice breathless and desperate. "I need it. I need you." Your body complied, your muscles relaxing and then clenching around him as he continued to pound into you, each thrust claiming you, owning you. 

"That's it," he grunted, his teeth bared in a feral snarl. "Take it all. Every fucking inch." He leaned down, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss, his tongue invading your mouth with the same ruthless intensity as his cock invaded your body. You could taste the salt of his sweat, the musk of his arousal, and it only spurred you on, your body moving in sync with his, meeting him thrust for thrust. "You feel so good," you whimpered against his lips, your voice a desperate plea. "So deep. So hard." He pulled back, his eyes locked onto yours, his expression intense and possessive. 

"I'm going to come inside you," he growled. "I'm going to fill you up until you're dripping with my cum. Until there's no doubt in your mind who you belong to." His words sent a fresh wave of heat crashing through you, your inner muscles clamping down on him as your body neared its second peak. 

"Terry," you cried out, your voice a mix of plea and warning. "I'm close. So close." He responded with a low, dangerous chuckle, his pace never faltering. "Come for me, Elyse," he commanded. 

"Come all over my cock. Let me feel that tight pussy milk me dry." And with that, you shattered, your orgasm ripping through you with such force that you saw stars, your body convulsing and clenching around him as he continued to drive into you, chasing his release. With a final, powerful thrust, he buried himself deep, his body tensing as he came, his hot seed spilling into you.

Your eyes looked at him pleading for more. In a flash, Terry flipped you onto your hands and knees, kicking your legs apart. He ran a possessive hand down your spine, reveling in the way your skin pebbled under his touch. “This view is breathtaking”,  he murmured appreciatively, admiring the way your ass lifted invitingly.

Without warning, Terry grabbed your hips and slammed back inside you, setting a punishing pace from the start. The new angle allowed him to go impossibly deep, his heavy balls slapping against your clit with every thrust. “Fuck, you take me so well” he grunted, his voice strained with effort and pleasure. "Your cunt is like a vise, squeezing me so fucking tight." His fingers dug into your hips, holding you in place as he used your body for his pleasure, each thrust brutal and unforgiving. "You feel that, baby?" he panted. "You feel how deep I am inside you? I could stay here forever, buried in your tight, wet pussy." 

You moaned, your arms shaking with the effort of holding yourself up as he pounded into you. "Yes," you cried out, your voice hoarse and desperate. "I feel it. I feel all of you." He reached around, his hand finding your clit, his fingers rubbing and circling the sensitive nub in time with his thrusts. "Come again for me," he demanded, his voice a low, commanding growl. "I want to feel that pussy milk me dry a second time." Your body obeyed, your muscles clenching and unclenching around him as another orgasm built, this one even more intense than the last. 

"Terry," you screamed, your voice echoing through the room. "I'm coming! I'm coming so hard!" He responded with a low, satisfied growl, his body tensing as he found his own release, his cock pulsing inside you as he filled you with his seed once again. "Fuck," he grunted, his body slowing to a stop, his chest heaving with exertion. "You fucking destroy me." He collapsed forward, his body covering yours, his lips finding the shell of your ear. "And I fucking love it," he whispered, his voice a low, contented rumble.

Once he had his fill of you, it still wasn't enough to satisfy his sexual needs. With preternatural strength, he easily lifted you off your knees, impaling you fully on his thick cock as he stood. Terry's other hand slid up to wrap around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make your pulse jump. “Hold on tight, baby. Daddy's going to fuck you up.”

He began to bounce you on his shaft, using gravity to drive you down onto him with each upward thrust. The new position allowed him to reach even deeper, his cockhead kissing your cervix with every plunge. Terry's hips snapped up to meet yours, the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room.

You cried out, your head falling back against his shoulder as you clung to him, your nails digging into his forearm wrapped around your throat. "Terry!" you screamed, your voice a mix of pleasure and desperation. "Oh god, you're so deep. So fucking deep." He growled in approval, his teeth nipping at your shoulder as he continued to impale you on his cock, his hips moving in a relentless, punishing rhythm. "That's it, baby," he grunted. "Take it all. Every fucking inch." 

His hand on your throat tightened slightly, restricting your air flow just enough to heighten your senses, making every touch, every sound, every sensation more intense. You could feel your body coiling tight, your muscles tensing as you climbed towards another earth-shattering orgasm. "I'm close," you gasped, your voice a desperate plea. "So close, Terry. Don't stop. Please don't stop." He responded with a low, dangerous chuckle, his pace never faltering. "I won't, baby," he promised, his voice a dark, seductive whisper. "I'm going to fuck you right over the edge. And when you come, you're going to drench my cock. Aren't you?"

 You could only nod, your body beyond words, beyond thought, beyond anything but the raw, primal need to be fucked, to be filled, to be claimed. And as if sensing your need, Terry's hand left your throat, his arm snaking around your waist, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing and circling the sensitive nub with a skill and precision that left you breathless. "Come for me, Elyse," he commanded, his voice a low, demanding growl. "Let me feel that beautiful pussy come undone on me." 

And with that, you shattered, your body convulsing and clenching around him as a powerful orgasm ripped through you, your screams of pleasure echoing through the room, your body milking his dickfor all it was worth.

In a instant, you felt Terry’s fangs pierce through your neck, sending electrical sparks through your body as you came on his dick. 

You gasped, your body jerking as Terry's fangs sank into your neck, the sharp pain immediately giving way to a surge of pleasure that sent electrical sparks dancing across your skin. 

"Terry!" you cried out, your voice a mix of surprise and ecstasy as your orgasm intensified, your inner muscles clamping down on his cock with a force that left you seeing stars. He groaned against your flesh, the vibration sending shivers down your spine as he began to drink from you, his hips never stopping their relentless pace. Each thrust was a claim, a possession, a declaration of ownership. 

"You taste so fucking good," he murmured, his voice a low, satisfied rumble as he continued to feed, his cock pulsing inside you, drawing out your orgasm until you were a boneless, trembling mess in his arms.

As your blood flowed into his mouth, mixing with your honeyed nectar, Terry let out a guttural moan of pure ecstasy. The combination of flavors, the feeling of your velvet walls clamping down on him like a vice, the sound of your cries of rapture - it all pushed him over the precipice.

With a final, brutal thrust, Terry buried himself to the hilt inside you, his cock pulsing as he emptied himself in long, thick spurts. He continued to feed from your neck, swallowing greedily, prolonging both your orgasms. His hips jerked erratically, riding out the waves of his intense release.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Terry withdrew his fangs, lapping at the puncture wounds to seal them.

He gently lowered you to the ground, your body still trembling with the aftermath of your intense orgasm. Terry hovered over you, his eyes locked onto yours, a mix of primal satisfaction and something softer, more tender, shining in their depths. "Elyseee," he murmured, his voice a low, hoarse whisper, "you are incredible. Every fucking time."

 He brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his touch surprisingly gentle despite the ferocity of his actions moments ago. You reached up, your hand cupping his cheek, feeling the roughness of his stubble against your palm. "Terry," you replied, your voice soft and sated, "that was... intense. You're incredible." 

A slow, satisfied smirk spread across his face, and he leaned down to capture your lips in a deep, lingering kiss. His tongue explored your mouth, tasting and teasing, reminding you of the pleasure he could bring. When he finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, his eyes never leaving your gaze. "I meant what I said," he said, his voice serious and intense. "You're mine. Forever. And I'm going to spend every day making sure you never forget it." He rolled off you, pulling you into his arms, your back against his chest, his cock still semi-hard and nestled between your ass cheeks.

 "Rest, my love," he murmured, his voice a low, soothing rumble. "Because when you wake up, I'm going to fuck you all over again." You smiled, your eyes fluttering closed as you snuggled into his embrace, your body already anticipating the next round of pleasure. "Promise?" you whispered, a soft, contented sigh escaping your lips.

Taglist: @theereinawrites @writingsbytee @nayaesworld @blowmymbackout @megamindsecretlair @brattyfics @episodes-ff @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @nayaxwrites @keyaho @dxddykenn @kaylalb @fakxmbj @hxneyclouds @contentfiend @kimuzostar @kumkaniudaku @uzumaki-rebellion @ranikyani @teenage-aria @jimmybutlrr

[thedaze15]

🖤

[ranikyani]

📚 Daddy’s Library 📚

📖 Intro Page + About 📖

💌: Make sure you read warnings before engaging + Take care of yourself while reading, mwah💋

The Richmond Archives (3) | 🏛️ | A-I | J-R | S-Z# |

A collection of fics centered around Terry Richmond as a main character, exploring different stories, relationships, and adventures.

The Alias Archives | 🎭 |

A collection of fics featuring Aaron Pierre as a main character, but under a different name, exploring new identities and roles.

The Aaron Archives | 💚 |

A collection of fics featuring Aaron as himself as a main character, exploring different stories and relationships.

The Archive Allies:

@thevelvetwhispers @persethegawd @kelvinaaronlover

💌: Come get yall library cards, If you'd like to be added to tags for when I make library updates or other genre list lmk