#aaronpierre

[alldthoughtsinmyhead]

Ruined

Summary: When Shania moves into her dream apartment, the last thing she expects is a charming neighbor who’s helpful, handsome, and seemingly perfect. One cup of coffee turns into late-night dancing, heated kisses, and a connection that feels like fate. But the faster something burns, the quicker it can vanish… A slow-burn one-shot about desire, trust, and the quiet danger of letting someone all the way in.

Read on dark mode here🌙

Shania Knowles stepped onto the curb, her heels clicking smartly against the concrete.

She wrapped her hands around the steaming coffee cup, letting the heat seep into her fingers. Her sky-blue knitted dress hugged her curves, the high turtleneck and long sleeves balancing out the hemline that stopped mid-thigh, just enough to leave her legs bare to the bite of late summer air.

Behind her, movers hauled the last of her boxes into her brand-new high-rise apartment. She took the stairs slowly, savoring the moment.

A luxury apartment in one of the city’s most coveted complexes. Paid for, in full. This was her reward. The long nights, the back-to-back pitches, the thousand small sacrifices had stacked into a mountain she’d finally conquered.

She was leaning against her doorway, sipping coffee and waiting for the final box, when she saw him.

Tall. Caramel-skinned. And those eyes, good God, those eyes. Framed by lashes that were criminally long for a man.

He walked like he had nowhere to be and all the time in the world. Slow, fluid strides, every movement made like his limbs were well and frequently — like some expensive cat who knew it was being watched.

She took another sip of her coffee, unable to avert her eyes.

He stopped in front of her and smiled. It was just as smooth as the rest of him.

"Hi. I'm Coby. I live just down the hall. Need help unpacking?"

Shania raised a brow. "Do you offer to help all your new neighbors unpack?"

"As a matter of fact, I do. They call me Helpful Coby." He cringed. "That was super corny. I'm sorry."

She laughed, biting the edge of her lip to keep from smiling too wide. "Okay, Helpful Coby. Let’s see how helpful you really are."

She ushered him into her apartment, leaving the door wide open.

It was a safe complex, but still, you could never be too careful inviting a stranger into your home. Her purse stayed slung over her shoulder, mace within reach, even as she watched him unpack boxes and assemble frames with practiced ease.

Hours slipped by.

By the time the last box was folded and pushed aside, her purse had been tossed somewhere on the kitchen counter and the door was half-closed.

She collapsed onto the couch, limbs heavy with exhaustion.

“Wow. This would’ve taken me at least two weeks to set up by myself.”

Coby grinned and leaned against the wall. “Come on. Two days, tops.”

“My work keeps me super busy,” she said, rolling her neck. “Those boxes would’ve stayed full for weeks.”

He gave a soft, understanding smile and started toward the door.

She sat up quickly. “Hey—uh, can I buy you dinner? Just to say thank you. It’s the least I can do.”

“Nah,” he said with a small shake of his head, already halfway into the hallway. “I work for a charity organization called Helpful Hands.”

“What—” Shania let out a startled laugh, but the door had already shut behind him.

She stared at the space where he’d been. “That was... weird.”

But hours later, as she sat cross-legged on the floor eating takeout, she realized she couldn’t stop smiling.

Over the next few weeks, she found herself looking for him. Every time she left for work. Every time she returned. Nothing.

Then one Saturday morning, she walked into the complex’s central gym — and there he was.

Tank top clinging to his back, cut deep enough to expose the curve of his shoulder blades. He was doing pull-ups, muscles tensing and flexing with every repetition, and Shania had to discreetly check her chin for drool.

The ridges of his back held her gaze like magnets, guiding her steps until she was standing beside his setup, heart thumping in her chest.

“Hi,” she breathed.

Nothing.

She cleared her throat and tried again, louder this time. “Hi!”

He glanced over his shoulder mid-rep. That same slow smile spread across his face as recognition lit his eyes.

“Hey… uh…”

“Shania.” She offered her hand with a smile. “Shania Knowles. You left so abruptly, I didn’t get to introduce myself.”

“Hello, Shania. Nice seeing you again.” He shook her hand. His grip was warm and light. “You just got here? I was just finishing my last rep before grabbing some coffee.”

“Oh! Let me buy. I still feel kinda guilty about you doing all that work for me and not even getting a thank you.”

“You want to pay me?”

There was something about the way he said pay that made Shania wet her lips, her thoughts stuttering right along with her mouth.

“I—well… I just meant coffee. To say thank you.”

He held her gaze, the smile his lips tried to hide dancing in his eyes.

“Coffee it is then.”

They sat in the café a few minutes later, deep in conversation like old friends catching up.

He was easy to talk to — not just charming, but calm in a way that made her feel heard. Somehow, she found herself talking more than usual, spilling stories she rarely told anyone, while he listened, asking just enough to keep her going.

Later, when they reached her doorstep, she realized with a start that he had paid for the coffee.

“You’re just dragging this debt thing out now, Coby,” she teased, nudging his arm. “I was supposed to buy that.”

“Yeah… I’ve got a better idea.” His grin widened. “Let me take you out dancing tonight. You missed your workout. This can be your cardio, and we’ll call the debt settled.”

So at 10 p.m., Shania found herself on a packed dance floor, swaying to reggae beats with her fourth drink in hand, and her hips grinding firmly against Coby.

He moved with her effortlessly, his rhythm locked to hers, hands low on her waist, guiding her.

Her body rubbed against the firm line of him, the hard press of his arousal undeniable.

Coby's hand slid lower, cupping her hip, anchoring her against him like she belonged with him.

Several songs and drinks later, Coby was kneeling in front of her, undoing the straps on her heels.

Shania clung to his biceps as he laid her down gently on her bed, tugging him with her, whispering a soft, drunken plea.

But Coby just smiled, brushed a kiss against the top of her head, and stood.

Shania blinked up at him, confused. Her hand reached for his, but he stepped back.

“Sleep, Shania,” he said softly.

Then he left.

She stared at the empty doorway, the click of the lock echoing louder than her pulse. Shame flared hot across her skin. She looked down at her body — dress hiked up, cleavage on display, thighs bare and smooth — and turned to bury her face in the pillow.

He’s too good to be true, she thought, right before sleep took her.

The Next Morning:

Shania shuffled around her apartment. Her hair was wrapped in a towel, and a robe was tied firmly over her nakedness; she held a steaming mug of coffee in a death grip.

When the buzzer rang, she checked the monitor. Coby.

She buzzed him in.

He stepped in moments later wearing slacks and a thin tee that draped over his torso, leaving little to the imagination. She gripped her mug tighter.

“Morning,” he said with a warm smile. “Hair of the dog?”

He held up a small bottle.

She blinked, then let out a breathy laugh. “God, yes.”

She set her mug on the counter, uncapped the bottle, and downed it in one go — wincing as the lemon and ginger hit her throat like fire.

“Better?” he asked, grinning.

"Lemon shots? You're an angel."

"That's my line."

Shania turned to drop the bottle on the counter… and lingered. She could feel Coby’s eyes on her, his heated gaze sliding over her bare legs.

When she turned back, her arms crossed over her chest, leaning against the tile, she met his gaze.

“Coby… about last night.”

He stepped forward, reached for her robe’s belt, and pulled her gently to him.

“Shhh,” he murmured against her lips, then kissed her.

She moaned into his mouth, hands flying up to wrap around his shoulders.

He undid the knot and slid the robe from her shoulders, hands slipping under her arms as he lifted her easily.

She clung to him, burying her face in the curve of his neck as he carried her back into the bedroom he’d left the night before.

He laid her down with a gentleness that made her eyes sting.

No games this time. No teasing. No drunken missteps or second guesses.

Just her and him, his body warm and solid above hers as he kissed her again — slower now, deeper. His hand traced the curve of her waist, spreading goosebumps across her skin.

Coby’s mouth moved down her neck, kissing the dip of her collarbone, then lower. His lips were so soft, his breath warm. He cupped her breast, brushing his thumb across her nipple until she arched into him.

"You're beautiful," he murmured.

She smiled, eyes fluttering shut. "Hurry..."

He chuckled low in his throat and reached down to slide his pants off, letting his body press into hers. She gasped at the feel of him — hot, heavy, hard — against her thigh.

She opened for him, wordless.

He guided himself to her entrance, rubbing slow circles against her folds, teasing her slit until her hips lifted with need.

"Now, Coby."

He eased inside her, the first stretch making them both groan, his name slipping from her lips, his breath catching in his chest.

She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him deeper.

He started slow, moving at a steady rhythm, letting her feel every inch of his length. Her nails raked his back as her moans grew louder, more desperate.

He kissed her through every sound, his hand gripping her hip, holding her to the bed as he increased his pace, delivering short, rapid strokes that had her eyes rolling back.

The bed creaked beneath them as time faded. All that mattered was the synergy they shared, her soulful whimpers, and the low grunts he made every time her walls clenched around him.

Her climax caught her off-guard — a sharp cry muffled by his shoulder, her thighs trembling, her back arching.

He followed moments later, pulsing deep inside her, his body shuddering as he spilled into her with a ragged groan.

When he collapsed beside her, gathering her into his arms, she laughed softly, breathless and dazed.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Days flowed into weeks, and soon, two months had passed.

Shania glowed. Coby was perfect. He seemed to know exactly what she wanted — and did it without her asking. Every gift he gave was thoughtful. Every time they made love, sparks flew. He worshipped her body, knew when she wanted to be cherished… and when she wanted to be driven into her mattress.

Every surface in her apartment had been defiled and marked, every orifice in her body explored. She was in love, and she was his.

The first time she ever spent on Coby, it was a little thing. He had ordered something on Amazon, and his card was declined.

“Can I use your card, babe? I need this delivered urgently. I’ll pay you back as soon as I fix my card.”

And he did. Double.

Shania even tried to give the extra back, but he wouldn't take it.

“It’s a loan, sugar. I have to pay it back double.” He whispered on her skin while she giggled.

The next time he borrowed, he had his face between her legs.

"Can I get a loan, sugar?" a kiss on her clit. "My card's acting up again." A drawn-out lick. "I'll pay back as soon as I sort it out."

She held down his head to her aching centre with one hand and fished for her purse with the other. Digging out a credit card and handing it to him while he ate her with even more gusto.

She never asked for it back.

Then his heavily pregnant sister came to visit. Trish, he called her. She spent most of her time in Shania’s apartment, gisting and laughing and calling her sister-in-law.

She was so lovable that Shania wanted to spoil her — a baby bath set, tiny clothes, toys. Every time she stepped out, she came back with something for the baby or its beautiful mother.

So when Coby invited her on a romantic weekend trip, Shania was over the moon. Trish helped her pack, subtly hinting at an engagement.

Just before she left, Trish gently grabbed her hand.

“Can I stay in your apartment? Coby’s place is too much of a bachelor pad, and yours is… warm. Homey. I’ll be alone, and I’d feel safer here.”

“Will you be okay?” Shania asked, full of concern.

“I’ll be perfect. Thank you,” Trish beamed, cradling the spare key like it meant the world.

That weekend was everything. Coby spoiled her. Ticked every box on her romantic getaway checklist. He kissed her in all the right places, whispered sweet things in her ear, made her feel like the center of the universe.

On the way back, he had their Uber drop her off first.

“I’ll be right back, baby. I just need to grab something real quick.”

He kissed her forehead and waved as the car pulled away.

Still floating on post-trip euphoria, Shania took the elevator up, smiling at her reflection in the mirrored walls.

She slipped her key into the lock and opened the door.

Her apartment was empty.

Not just cleared out — stripped. The television was gone. Her rugs and expensive home decor. Even the salt and pepper shakers from the kitchen counter were missing. Everything that could fit into a box had been taken.

She stood there, keys still in hand, heart pounding as silence closed in around her like a noose.

Her phone trembled in her grasp as she dialed.

First her bank to cancel her credit card. Then the police.

It took two hours to file the report.

By then, her hands had stopped shaking.

The officer across from her had the kind of bored, too-familiar tone that came with hearing this kind of story too often.

The officer, a middle-aged woman with tired eyes and a coffee stain on her shirt, clicked through tabs on her computer. “Name?”

“Coby. Or at least that’s what he told me. Coby... Tall. Brown skin. About six-foot-three. Built like sin...sounded and moved like one too. Beautiful eyes. Very polite, caring. Gifted with his hands and mouth.” She drifted off, staring into the distance.

The officer cleared her throat. “Do you know his full name?”

“Coby Winston.” Shania offered. “He lived in my building. But I never actually saw a lease.”

Click. Click. More typing.

“And the woman? You said she was pregnant?”

“She said her name was Trish. She told me she was his sister.”

That finally made the officer pause. She turned her monitor slightly.

On it were six photos. Grainy security footage. Different angles. Different cities.

But the same man. The same woman. No baby bump.

“We’ve been trying to catch them for over a year,” she said. “They move like wind — never the same names, never the same backstories. They hit men and women. Wealthy divorcees, fresh college grads, sugar daddies, anyone who wants to be wanted. They’re con artists.”

The officer leaned back. “They work in pairs. Sometimes as lovers. Sometimes siblings. Sometimes she’s the bait. Sometimes he is.”

Shania stared at the screen.

Her voice was flat. “So they’re married?”

The officer nodded.

She barely remembered getting home. Or what little was left of it.

Her bed was still there. It couldn't fit into a box, she mused bitterly. They hadn’t taken that. But the sheets were gone. The pillows. Her fancy picture frames. Her blender.

She stood in the empty doorway of her bedroom and let herself feel it. The stupid. The heartbreak. The shame.

And then she grabbed her laptop.

She made herself tea.

She started writing everything down.

Every lie he told. Every moment Trish touched her shoulder. Every detail she could remember about his car, the Uber, his walk, the brand of lemon shot he brought for her hangover.

Because maybe she had been played.

But she wasn’t going to stay the victim.

The next day, she went back to the precinct with a file in hand. “I have something,” she told the officer. “Good,” the woman said. “So do we. Another woman just came in this morning.” Shania raised an eyebrow. “She’s got a story, too. And a name.” The officer smiled grimly. “You’re not the only one looking for Coby and Trish.”

I couldn't decide on who I wanted the face claim for this to be since it's an original story, so I'm just going to tag all the fine men we're crushing on this season. Also for visibility, but don't loud it. Likes, comments, and rebogs are deeply appreciated. Don't forget to read on the website to support your girl.

[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

[uninterruptedafricans]

Thinkin ‘bout his lady got him like

[massiv3tr33p3rsona]

Touched | Terrance X Wynnie (Black Fem OC)

Hidden Part III.

Pairing: Terrance (Foe) x Winona ‘Wynnie/Wyn’ (Black Fem OC)

Summary: During a night of rough winds from the duststorm, which triggered a panic attack, Wynnie is brought to Terrance’s room, where they spend more of an intimate time.

Warnings: SMUT, 18+ (MINORS DNI!), a bit lengthy, oral (m receiving, f receiving), protection sex, masturbating (f), fingering, squirting, titty sucking/playing, slight choking, slight domTerrance! and subTerrance!, slight degradation, slapping, worshipping, fluff, aftercare, emotional feelings, slight PTSD (fem), fear, cursing

Dividers Made By: @uzmacchiato

Parts: I • II • IV • V • VI • VII • VIII • Epilogue

A/N I: A continuation the most erotic piece of work I have ever written and happy with the way it came out.

THIS IS MY WORK, SO PLEASE DO NOT STEAL IT.

The sound of the shower running is heard from the bathroom of Wynnie’s room, where the latter is currently in, washing her body calmly in a honey oatmeal body wash.

An hour and more has gone by since she engaged in sex with the vibrators with Terrance, who she watched on her little device he left in the box.

The sounds of her and his moans plays over and over in her head as she massage over certain spots, applying some relief and moaning quietly.

She swipes over her heat, feeling it ache from the tenderness, which made her jump a bit.

She does it again, this time, circling her clit in a slow but steady motion, feeling her muscles tighten a bit as the hot sensation from the water hitting her body adds to it.

“Fuck…” she mumbled, quickening her pace.

She throws her head back against the shower wall, her breathing shuddering at how quickly the tingling sensation is growing, fondling her breast to making it feel even more good.

Then, she cries out an animalistic groan as her release washes over her, essence spraying out all over the wall as it gets steamer, riding it out.

After a few minutes of calming down, she grabs her towel from the rack, shutting off the water before wrapping herself, stepping out of the shower.

Entering her room, she started her skincare routine before beginning her body care.

Pouring some lavender vanilla body oil into her hands, she gently massage it into her skin until it semi-dry, put on her lace black panties. She finishes her skincare afterwards.

Putting on her three-piece satin pajama set that consists of a bra, shorts, and a button overshirt, she wraps her hair in a sunflower pattern scarf before removing the sheets off her bed, folding it carefully to carry down.

After putting the new ones on, she grabs the dirty ones + her clothes and heads downstairs to the laundry room, noticing Terrance is absent from his room when passing by.

She walks to the laundry room, just about to enter until she stops at the entrance, slight embarrassment coming over her.

In the laundry room stood Terrance, who was carefully putting his dirty sheets into the washing machine, dressed in nothing more than a black tank top and black sweat shorts.

He stops before turning around, seeing her standing there with hers, slight embarrassment coming over him.

“Oh…didn’t know you were still up.” he said, scratching his head.

“It’s hard to, uh, sleep with the wind blowing. So I..took a shower to relax a bit.” she said, leaning against the door.

He nods, crossing his arms and leaning against the dryer while trying to not look at her hands.

“What happened with your sheets?” she asked, seeing him jump up.

“Um….” as he looked at them, thinking very hard.

“Maybe don’t shave your face outside the bathroom, or else, you might accidentally spill too much shaving cream on the covers. And it seeps through quickly.” he said, laughing awkwardly.

“Mm. That must’ve sucked.” she nodded, walking past him.

“Hehe, it did.” he replied awkwardly.

As she carefully puts her sheets into the machine, she can feel his alluring gaze burning through her skin, watching her scatter a bit.

Looking out the corner of her eye, she sees him eyeing her ass poking out of her shorts before moving to her breasts, licking his lips.

“What about you?” he asked, breaking her distraction.

“Huh?” she asked instantly, blinking a bit.

“How come you’re washing your sheets?”

“Oh.” as she looks down at them.

“Maybe don’t leave an open bottle of body oil on your bed and forget about it when you go to sit down on it.” she replied, smiling a bit.

“Hm.” he said, looking her amusingly.

“You sure it’s not from…playing with something?” he added, making her eyes slightly widen.

She stands at him for a few minutes before squinting her eyes at him, folding her arms.

“You know, I can ask you the same thing about that shaving cream. Or was it something else creamy?” she said, watching his neck slightly move back.

He nodded, watching her push it down before turning to him, eyeing him lovingly.

Silence fills between them as they both look each other up and down slowly, wondering if any of them gonna make the first move before the other one does.

Suddenly, Terrance steps closer to Wynnie, closing in the distance between them, looking down at her slightly flushed face, breathing quietly.

He brushes his hand across her cheek, leaning in a bit, stopping about a centimeter away from her lips.

Until he gently moves her hand off the machine, grabbing the lid and pushing it down to shut it, hearing it lock.

“I’ll turn it on in the morning so I don’t forget to take it out while we’re sleeping.” he said, breaking the tension.

“…..Together?” she asked, immediately close her eyes in embarrassment.

Thinking why would she say that as a response, he holds back laughter, his lips slightly perking up to prevent it.

“As in because we have a lot of sheets to fold…together. Not what you’re thinking.” she said, trying to play it off.

“You look nice in your scarf. Fits your frame.” as he looks at it, taking it in the details.

“And you look nice with your arms out. Slightly fitting in yours.” she replied, smiling a bit.

He nods, watching her turn and walking away slowly, her ass moving a bit.

She stops at the entrance, turning to look at him enchantingly, leaning against the door frame.

“But from here…you look even more fine.” she said, licking her lips.

He turns away, trying to hide his growing member from being visible to her, putting his hands over it.

“Good night, Terrance.” she said, backing up slowly.

“Night, Winona.” he replied, looking at her.

She turns around to head back to her room, feeling him watching her head upstairs.

“My word.” he whispered, rubbing over his aching member, moaning lowly.

Whatever she was trying to do… it worked on him. And now, he has a friend to take care of before he can get some sleep.

The aggressive winds from the passing dust storm continuously hit the windows in Wynnie’s room, making it hard for her to sleep. And a little worried that something was gonna come through and break the window, letting the dust in.

But that wasn’t the only problem.

While the windows were closed tight enough to make sure no dust gets in, the air still felt a little dry, affecting her throat.

Feeling it overtake her body, she gets up and exhales loudly, which makes her cough into her scarf, which fell off as she was sleeping.

Getting up and walking out, she carefully walks downstairs, heading to the kitchen.

Turning on the light, she walks the cabinet and takes out a small glass, carefully closing it. She heads to the fridge with it, opening it, and grabbing the water jug, pouring some into it.

She takes a few sips, enjoying the coldness soothe her dry mouth and throat, becoming even more hydrated.

After finishing the rest, she washes the glass before turning off the light and heading up the stairs.

As she was heading up, the sounds from the wind starts to pick up, sounding haunting and scathing like, which began to scare her.

As she got to the top, she can see through the big window how dark and smoke clouds like it was out there, as if they were going through a tornado without warning.

Her breathing begins to speed up, making her pause and do her usual exercise to calm herself, saying it quietly so she doesn’t wake Terrance.

“You’re free. You’re free. You’re free.” she utters, taking a few steps to her door.

Suddenly, something hits the window, making a startling BANG! sound, triggering her.

She falls to the ground, lets out a few screams as she hides her head, fearing what was going to happen next.

“Please! I- I didn’t do anything!” she yelled as tears and fear consume her.

Alfonso’s evil laughter plays in her head as a shadowy figure in the corner comes out with glowing red eyes, slowly approaching her.

His hand stretched out in a gruesome way, about to grab her as she wails at it, terrified.

“Go away…” she tearfully begged, the laughter growing loud.

Then, a door swings open, with a light turning on.

“What the….” she hears a groggy, familiar, male voice say.

She feels herself being picked up and taken into the room, hearing the door closed. She’s placed in a sit up position on the bed, facing the front but not looking up.

Her out of sync breathing is slightly strangling her, being afraid of calming down or she’ll make him even more angry as the blurry figure kneels in front of her, holding her hands to calm her.

“Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.” he says, mimicking the inhale-exhale motion, watching her slowly follow.

“Look and follow me, Wyn.” he said quietly, squeezing her hands.

She looks up while sniffling, seeing that the figure comforting her was Terrance, who had concern all over his face. But patience, believing that she can do it.

He does the motion again, with her following at each exhale, her body relaxing in his hold, a small smile appearing on his face.

“Atta girl.” he whispered, watching her breathing go back to normal.

At the final one, she exhaled loudly, feeling herself calm and steady again, looking around to see where she was at, eyes slightly burning.

“You okay?” he asked, rubbing her leg.

“…I-I think.” she said, looking at him.

A soft, worrying look was on his face, very concerned about her attack that occurred on her.

“What happened out there?”

She looks away in embarrassment, gently removing her hands from his.

“Was coming back up from getting a drink of water. Guess something hit the window and made a noise I didn’t like and….it triggered something in me.” she replied in a low voice, feeling ashamed.

“Sorry for going back to my old way. It just straight up happened and…” as tears began to form.

“It’s okay.” he said, getting up and sitting next to her as he comforts her by wrapping his arms around her waist, rocking her a bit.

“Things happen beyond our control. Don’t feel bad about it.” as he rubs her arm a bit, feeling her relax.

She sniffles quietly, feel his face laying on her head as she looks at mirror, noticing he’s shirtless, his lower abdomen flexing a bit.

“You….you sleep shirtless?” she asked, hearing him laugh a bit.

“Normally, no. But it gets a little bit hot during this, so….” as he lets her go, moving back to give her a better view.

She carefully traces over his chest and abs, feeling the ridges beneath her fingertips as she looks at him, his eyes very soft and a more dark color.

“…Has..has anyone touched you in a while?” he asked hesitantly, watching her stop breathing for a bit.

She slowly shook her head, looking away in embarrassment as she takes her hand away.

“What you did tonight before we got interrupted was um….the first time I felt something like that.” she said shyly.

He puts his hand under her chin, tilting her face towards him as he move closer to her, not taking his eyes off.

“Would you like to feel that again?” as he leans a bit closer to her face.

“With no interruptions?” he said lowly, inches away from her lips.

She looks at him for a few minutes, feeling the heat inside her rising up as he brings her right hand to his mouth, rubbing it a bit.

He kisses her wrist a few times, the texture of the tattoo covered scar rubbing against his lips, hearing her wince a bit.

“I’ll do it, you know.” as he kisses up her arm.

“But only if you say so.” he stops as he’s close to her face.

“I don’t want to force you to do something you’re not comfortable with.”

Wynnie smiles a bit, feeling safe under him and how he’s willing to be cautious as possible with her.

“…yes. I would like to feel that again, Terrance.” she said softly, trailing her hands up his chest before wrapping them around his neck, embracing him.

He smiles before leaning in and begins to kiss her, wrapping his arms around her waist.

They make out for a few minutes, with him turning them to the side of the bed, with her at the edge and him now kneeling between her legs.

Quickly, he rips open her shirt, hearing her gasp as he removes it, trailing kisses down her neck before stopping at her chest. He unhooks her bra, watching her breasts fall out, looking at them with hunger in his eyes.

After tossing that across the room, he leans in and takes one into his mouth, wrapping his hand around the other one and playing with it.

She moans quietly, enjoying the way he sucked and gently bit her nipple, slightly rubbing his face between them, inhaling her scent.

“My god. You smell sweet.” he whispered, kissing and sucking the other breast before slowly, kissing down her chest.

He kisses down to the three stars scar on her ribs, tracing and sucking on each one with his lips and tongue, hearing her let out a few harsh moans and rubbing her hand over his head.

Stopping at her shorts, he pulls them and her underwear down swiftly, tossing them as well.

Leaning in, he kisses her bouquet of flowers tattoo covered scar on her waist, tracing it with his tongue before moving down to her pussy, stopping at it.

He slowly looks up at her as he placing one of her legs over his shoulder, hooking his arm under the other one, feeling her tense up.

“I’m gonna taste your pretty self for a bit.” as he rubs her leg, watching her bite her lip.

“Might feel a little different for you. But, I want to hear you, Wyn. Don’t hide your rousing sounds from me.” he said, a longing expression on his face.

“I understand.” she replied quietly, lying back and spreading her right leg a little more.

He looks down, seeing her essence slicking up her lips, groaning at its sweet scent hitting his nose, licking his lips.

“I’m all yours, baby.” she admitted weakly, feeling herself becoming a bit needy of his lips touching her down there.

Seeing her break down underneath him set something off as he leans down and begins eating her out, hearing her gasp harshly, with soft moaning following after.

“Shit…” she mumbled, enjoying his tongue licking in and out of her entrance repeatedly as his lips suck on hers softly.

He continuously licked and tugged at a few sweet spots inside her, feeling her walls clenching down a bit, making him moan.

“Right there.” as she pushes his head further in after he licked at a deep one, grinding her hips into his face a bit.

“Fuck. Eat that pussy, Terrance.” she whispered, rubbing her hands over his head, feeling pressure building inside her stomach.

Her moans mix in with the sounds of her essence splashing and being slurped up by his hot mouth and swift tongue licking it all up as if he was dying I thirst.

He wasn’t gonna let her go once again due to fear and interruption. And he sure as hell doesn’t have plans for it ever again.

He sneakily slides a finger in her, feeling her walls immediately wrapped around it, desperate for his member to be in her, catching her off guard.

He removes himself from her, making a POP! sound as he begins plunging his finger in and out, hearing her cries of pleasure hitting her.

“Ohh, you like that, don’t you?” he asked in a lustful tone, her essence shining on his face.

“Mmhm!” she replied tearfully, her hands squeezing the sheets.

He laughs delightfully, enjoying her chasing her high as he adds another one in, watching her arch her back, but holds her down.

“Easy there..” he said quietly, kissing her lips before licking her clit lazily, still pumping his fingers at a snappily pace.

Her delicate moans come out her mouth, enjoying the way his fingers curled and uncurled inside her each time he went in and went out, scratching at his arms.

“The way my two fingers are stretching you and poking you right now?” as he looks up, pleasure all over his face as he sped up his pace, watching her face become even more flustered.

“That’s what you’re gonna get from me when I stick my dick inside.” he breathed out, feeling her walls tightening around his tips.

“Oh my god.” she panted out, trying to push him away.

“I think I’m gonna cum!” she said, feeling it grow even more.

“Good.” as he slurps her entrance and lips again, his fingers quickening in and out, making sure he doesn’t lose the rhythm he made.

Her moans grow louder as she collapses to into the bed, her eyes closed tightly, but he’s not letting up.

“I want you to cum all over my face.” as he uses his other hand to rub her clit in small circles, hearing her hearing her breath shudder.

“And I want you to watch.” he said, slapping her thigh, which makes her sit back up and look at him, fighting against his control, but losing.

He chuckles again, kissing her thigh before placing his mouth back over her entrance, matching the speed of his fingers, hearing her whimper.

“Terrance, my god!” she cries out, her legs slightly locking as she feels a little pop inside her.

Suddenly, her essence begins to spray out, hitting some of his face and mouth, wetting up the sheets underneath as her release washes over her, causing her to let out tense moans as he watched, slowly licking some of it up whilst still rubbing her clit in slow circles.

Relief slowly comes in as her body relaxes, her catching her breath as he licks up every drop, slowly moving towards her mouth and placing a long, sloppy kiss on her lips.

She responds, her tongue tugging with his as she tastes herself, moaning at her sweetness before he breaks the kiss, staring at her erotically.

“You okay?” he asked, brushing a curl out of her face.

“…I am.” as she nods, a satisfied smile on her face.

“I feel…different.” she added, lazily tracing over shoulders.

“Good. That’s what I wanted to see.” he replied, kissing her again before standing up.

He carefully removes his black sweatpants, tossing them across the room as Wynnie sat up, watching him head towards his underwear.

“Wait.” she said, making him stop.

“Something wrong?” he said, back to his usual concerned self.

She found that cute, seeing his mood change back to making sure she’s okay with this.

She repositioned herself on the bed, now in a kneeling position as the coolness from the fan and the low set cooler he has near his bed blows on them.

She keeps her affectionate eyes on him as she leaned in a bit, placing her hands on his abs, trailing them down.

“May I? Since I got a little touch of it earlier.” as she wraps her hands around the waistband, looking with begging eyes.

He looks at her eagerly, nodding his head. She smiles, placing soft kisses over his abs, hearing him groan softly as she removes his underwear carefully seeing his pulsating member jump out.

Her mouth waters at its 8 inch, two toned look: pink tip with a tanned, girthy shaft, and veins appearing around it. It was moving on its own, with precum leaking from the tip.

It fits him perfectly, looking better in person.

She carefully wraps her hand around it and begins to stroke him in an upward-and-downward twisting motion, spreading the precum around and hearing him grunt a bit.

“Does that feel good?” she asked, swiping her thumb over the tip.

“Mmhm.” he said deeply, slightly pushing his hips forward at each motion.

“Feels wonderful, my love.” he added, throwing his head back a bit.

She smiles, feeling good about him enjoying this before she stops, positioning his member towards her mouth.

Sticking out her tongue, she engulfed his member into her mouth, taking aback by his size, but pushing through it, taking all of him.

She slightly chokes, before pulling back, coughing a bit and tears swell as she strokes him a bit, laughing quietly.

“You’re gonna get yourself killed, trying to take all of me at once.” he said, holding her hair up in his hand.

“Practice makes perfect, right?” she asked before tracing his shaft with her tongue.

He watches her spit out a long trail of saliva before rubbing it in, taking him back into her mouth and begins bobbling her head up and down, stroking the rest of what she can’t fit.

Terrance’s low moans begins fill the room as the sloppy sounds of her sucking him balances it out, with her lips puckering at each motion, moaning a bit.

“Your mouth is so warm for me..” he uttered darkly, beginning to slightly push her head down to take a little more of him, seeing her remove her hands.

As he’s doing this, she trails one of them to her aching heat, beginning to plunge in and out of herself with her two fingers as her other hand fondles one of her breasts, welcoming the burning and cool sensation.

“You want me to fuck your mouth, don’t you?” he asked hungrily, removing himself from her mouth.

Hearing him ask that as his British accent is coated in lust and heat could make her cum again if she wanted to.

He watches her catch her breath, rubbing his member all over her lips and tongue as she nods obediently, opening her mouth with more.

He let out a growl before putting his member back into her mouth and begins slamming into her throat, her jaw slightly flexing.

Her static breathing, wet sounds, and rubbing herself adds on to the sexual tension they are feeding on, with his control taking over, enjoying her mouth swallowing his dick whole.

“Look at you. Taking your agent’s fat dick down your throat and playing with yourself over it.” he uttered, his strokes becoming a bit more intense, but not too rough.

“You wanted this to happen after we played together, didn’t you, Wyn?” he asks, hearing her in response.

She looks up with joy in her eyes, locking with his, who almost cracks but continues. Then, she began to suck him harder while plunging her herself harder, feeling another release rising.

“Oh, you’re about to cum again, aren’t you?” he said, slowing down his strokes.

She nods her head, her breathing becoming louder as that familiar feeling is slowly peeking near.

“You can do it. I wanna see you losing while you’re still sucking me like a good girl.” he said, feeling her jaw clinch around his shift, laughing darkly.

And just like that, her second release washes over her body. Her essence spills out under her, wetting her fingers and legs, her walls clenching hard around them, and her breathing running harsh over him, eyes rolled back.

He watches in amazement, satisfied that he helped her to another orgasm before carefully removing himself from her mouth, placing a soft kiss on her lips.

She kisses him back hungrily, wanting more as he carries her further to the center of the bed, letting go to lay her down.

After positioning some pillows under her head and back, he gets off the bed, heading to his nightstand and opening a drawer.

As she waits for his next move, she looks at herself in the mirror, seeing how flushed out, sweaty, and feral she looks, enjoying this new version of her.

After finding what he needs, he closes the drawer and climbs back onto the bed, positioning himself at the out of her legs.

“I’m gonna put this on if that’s okay.” as he holds up a condom, seeing her eyes follow.

She nods softly, watching him, open it up and take it out, really revealing itself as a translucent one. He puts it on, making sure it stretches out as far as it could, stopping with 1/4 of his member left.

“Pregnancy proof.” he said, making the both of them laugh.

He repositioned himself to make himself more comfortable as he got closer to her, who flinches back hard, scared a bit of what was gonna happen.

“You scared of me?” he asked, gently rubbing her legs.

She nods, letting out a soft gasp as he leans down, spreading her legs further open. He moves her around, making sure she’s comfortable before placing her hands on his back, kissing her face to soothe her.

“You don’t have to be.” as he traces over her entrance with his tip, kissing her.

She winces, not used to his curved top touching her lips like that.

“I’ll be gentle.” as he breaks the kiss. “If you still don’t like it, we can try a different way.” he said in a comforting tone.

She smiled hesitantly, looking down to watch him insert his member in a bit, making her wince at the sting she’s feeling and slightly breathing deeply.

“That hurts.” she whispered, gently pushing him back a bit.

“You have to relax.” he said softly, kissing her head.

“Mm.” as the sting turns into a wave of relief, a soft sigh coming out.

“I’m gonna push more in, okay?” he said, holding her legs up.

She nods, feeling him insert more in, wincing at the sting returning.

“Atta girl. You’re almost there..” he whispered, rubbing her thighs a bit.

“I can’t, I can’t.” she admits quickly, her legs slightly shaking.

“Hey.” as he turns her face up, making her look into his eyes as he locks one of his hands into hers.

“You’re doing great, my little flower.” he added, watching her relax a bit.

The sting goes away again, with her fully relaxing, licking her lips.

“Whatever pain and fear you’re holding in, let that out. I wanna see you feel good, not be in pain.” he added, bottoming out in her, letting out a deep groan.

She lets out a tearful gasp and throws her head back, squeezing his arms as he kisses her gently, feeling her tears falling.

“Just me and you, no one else.” he said, rolling his hips around.

She nods quickly, kissing him back as she watches him move softly, grazing a soft spot.

“You’re blessed.” she mumbled, hearing him laugh softly.

“And you feel amazing.” he replied, breathing harshly.

“Feeling exactly like how you felt when you were moving the opener up and down on me.” he added, watching her eyes widen, making him laugh.

“Terrance, I..” she began, but is cut off by his tip grazing a little ridge, letting out a gasp moan.

“MmMm. Don’t deny while I’m inside of you.” he said sneakily, slamming his hips into her a bit fast, hearing her gasp in shock.

“Oh god.” as he pulled out quickly, rubbing her lips, with instant relief coming all over her.

“I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to—“ he began to say in an apologetic voice.

“Do that again.” she said quickly, cutting him off.

“W-what?” as he stopped, looking at her in a perplexed way.

She laughs seductively, grabbing his member and rubbing it up and down her slit before reinserting him, making the both of them moan at the feeling.

“You…you sure?” he asked, making sure she meant it.

“Mmhm.” as she grabs one of his hands, wrapping it around her throat.

“Fuck me like how you did with that opener.” she replied, tightening his grip.

He gasps softly, surprised at her new command, feeling her wrap her legs around his waist.

“Look at me like how you looked at that too. And don’t hold back either.” she added, smiling with desire.

Terrance freezes, amazed at how quickly her mood changed from being terrified to being comfortable underneath him.

Almost like a switch went off in the both of them.

She sees his eyes turn a light green, his face changing into a lustful one as he slams his hips into her hard again, making her moan.

“Fuck.” he whispered, slamming them repeatedly as he watches her wince while watching it.

The bed begins to creak, mixing in with her loud moans and their bodies smacking as he squeezes her neck a bit, enjoying how she clenches around him.

She breathes harshly from her body slowly tingling from his hot strokes, her breast aching to be touched, and her clit being rubbed by his other hand.

Things she never felt the first time she did it.

He moves her hand to her stomach, gently pressing it down. She feels something poking her deep spot repeatedly, her eyes widening at the feeling.

“You feel me there?” he asked slyly, a smile on his face.

She nods quickly, letting out a satisfied whine as he pushes in deeper, buried between her legs. He lowers his head to one of her breasts, taking one into his mouth to suck.

His hips slammed repeatedly into her, watching her bounce a bit from his force, having a beautiful reaction to his site, aggressive sounds spilling out.

After he lets go to hold her waist, she turns her head to the mirror to see the view for herself, whimpers and gasps escaping her mouth.

His huge, sculpted frame covers her curvy, thick frame with each movement of his body, as if he’s hiding her precious treasure from anyone who wants it.

Her treasure wetting his shaft and her lips, leaving a trail to the gold.

And his loving, dominant eyes were focused hard on her, a satisfying and possessive vibe all over him.

“Baby, I’m about to cum again!” she cries out, feeling herself clenching a few times around his shaft.

With each hard stroke came a moan from her. But a harsh groan from him, pushing his member deep enough to cause it again and liking the way she reacts to it, her nails scratching his back.

“3…2..1…release.” he said, slamming into her one more time.

On cue, her third release washes over her, with him pulling out, watching her body shake a bit and essence squirting out like a faucet.

She lets out a few aggressive groans as her body pulsates, feeling him rub his tip up and down to get her to spray more essence out, which works as more spilled out, creating a tsunami underneath her.

He watches her relax for a few minutes before carefully turning her onto her stomach, positioning the pillows underneath her and arching her back so her ass is in the air.

“Wait…” she said weakly, carefully putting her hand between them.

“I’m not gonna do anything until you are ready.” he said, massaging her ass.

She catches her breath for a few minutes, enjoying the cold winds from the fan cooling her hot skin, silently exhausted.

“Dehydrated? I can go grab you a water.” he asked with concern, watching her shake her head.

She knew it was gonna go something like this. What she didn’t expect was for him to actually match it, expecting him to go the gentle route he’s been doing with her since they first met.

She readjusts herself on the pillows, which gives him a good view of the three star scar in the center of her back, turning her head to look at him, who was waiting patiently.

“You can fuck me again.” as she smiled, shaking her ass a bit.

Terrance smiled as he slaps one of them, immediately rubbing the sting away before getting into position behind her, rubbing his tip between her soaked lips a few times.

“Ready?” he asks.

“Mmhm.” she replied.

He reinsert himself back into her, both letting out soft gasps as he waits for her to mold herself around him again.

“Fuck!” she uttered loudly, enjoying the little sting around her lips before he starts bucking his hips into her softly, wanting to build up a rhythm.

Her curls bounces back and forth with each stroke, her breath slowly rising from the tingling sensation of him rubbing the ridges from her walls, his balls slapping at the outer entrance.

“You can fuck well, Terrance.” she says in a euphoric voice, feeling him get a bit thrifty with his strokes.

“Say my name again.” he ordered, grinding his hips a bit.

“Terr..ance.” she utters, being cut off by his tip kissing a sweet spot.

“Mm, you sound so sexy saying it like that.” he breathes out, feeling her lips tightening around.

“That’s what happens when you’re fucking your little assignment you’re helping.” she replied, moaning at him pushing in deeper, giving her some deep ones.

“Good thing you’re taking all of my help, aren’t you?” he whispers into her ear before kissing a bit, plunging his dick in and out of her harshly.

Her moans pour out, grabbing the back of his leg to push a little more in, but he grabs her arm and pins it against her back, growling a bit.

“Can you go a little rougher please?” she asked loudly.

“I don’t want you getting a bit lazy on me.” she added, chuckling a bit.

He stops, slapping her ass a few times, made her squeal a bit and move under him.

“You playing with fire, Winona. Since you asked…” he began, letting her arm go.

Suddenly, she felt a hand wrapping around the front of her neck, grabbing it to pull her upwards, now looking in the mirror and seeing her reflection.

She sees Terrance, now laying on top of her, beginning to pound into her from behind, meeting her eyes, both consumed with complete ecstasy.

Loud, incoherent moans come out of her mouth, her heat opening a little more to give him some space to fit all of him.

“You like when you’re being dominated in this position, huh?” he whispered harshly, hearing her whimper.

“Yes.” she admits weakly, feeling his tip brushing past her sweet spot.

“Just like that.” as she squeezes around him, watching him slow down a bit.

He lets out a few groans before placing a sloppy kiss on her shoulder, with her fighting back by bouncing her hips against his waist, meeting each rhythm he throws.

Terrance lets her go before sitting up, watching her ass bounce with each force, her essence wetting his shaft even more while her passionate moans fill the dust storm lit room, giving it an orange hue.

“Just like that, Wyn.” he said, biting his lip at the stunning sight.

She begins to throw it back harder, signaling that she’s close yet again, stopping his moving and letting her go crazy.

“Oh, your fat ass dick is touching everything in me so good!” she yelled, quickening her pace.

He groans in pleasure, feeling his member being tugged at by her walls as he grabs her hips and pulls it back onto him a few times to speed it up.

Just before she can release again, he remove himself from her, grabbing her waist and bringing her aching heat to his mouth, burying his face in it as he begins to eat her out at a fast and steady pace.

“Shit! Shit!” she yelped, feeling overstimulated in a good way.

She watches his face being coded in her essence yet again through the mirror, pulling on the covers tightly to not completely lose it, enjoying the sensation of his long tongue flicking in and out of her.

She screams loud as her fourth release washes over her, her breathing hyperventilating as she squirts very hard again, rubbing her clit a bit to let out more.

Her harsh breathes consume her body as Terrance lets her go before laying next to her on his back, catching his breath.

“You…you still haven’t cum yet…” she said, looking at him as he lets out deep breaths.

“It’s about making you cum more than me.” he said, smiling a bit.

“Mm.” she uttered, sitting up.

Catching her breath a few more times, Wynnie carefully climbs on top on him, rubbing her heat against his member a bit, his face scrunching up from the feeling.

She leans down and gives him another kiss, gently rubbing his chest as she grabs his member and aligns him with her entrance, rubbing him up her slit.

“Put it in, Wyn. I’m almost close.” he said nicely, watching her face blush more.

She gently inserts it inside of her, moaning at the feeling of being stretched out again.

“Oh god…” she whines, moving her hips around for a little bit relief as he places his hands on her ass, looking at her.

She begins moving her hips forward, feeling his member moving in and out at each angle, biting her lip.

“Like that.” he mumbled, groaning at her ass rubbing his thighs a bit.

She moves her hands to his abs for support, beginning to bounce hard on his member, his tip constantly poking at her cervix, whimpering softly.

“You’re gonna kill me with this dick!” she cries out, feeling her body becoming hot.

“You’ll get use to it, my little flower. I know you will.” he replied, caressing her breasts in his hands, exhaling sharply.

She looks up and watches herself in the mirror, enjoying rocking her hips hard as he gazes on, his grip becoming a little tighter around her chest.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” she asked, his eyes locking with hers in the mirror.

“Yeah.” he moaned, groaning at the way she slams down on him.

“Good. I’m close too.“ as she pulls him up by his neck, burning his face into her breasts.

Immediately, he wraps his arms around her, lifts her up a bit, and begins pounding into her again, her breathy cries, filling the room.

His muffled groans followed, that tightening feeling in his stomach about to come undone as he looked up, crashing his lips onto hers, quieting her cries.

At the same time, they both cum hard for the last time. Her walls clenches him really tightly as he cums really hard into the condom, her feeling it fill up as they both moaned, riding out their release.

Wynnie collapses to the side of Terrance, with him laying back against the bed, the both of them looking at the ceiling.

Only sounds in the now quiet, but heated room is his ceiling fan blowing on their damp bodies and the AC coolers on each side of the bed as they pant softly, dazed over what they finished doing.

She finally got to have real sex with someone who really likes her and lasts longer than two minutes, with no one watching them. He finally got to see a different side of her that was more than just a woman shy of starting her new life after being in a cult for so long.

“You okay, Wyn?” he asked, looking over.

“I am.” she replied quietly, tracing over his face.

He smiles a bit before getting up, stretching his arms out. She can see the cum filled condom from her view, watching him carefully take kg off and wrapped it so nothing spilled out.

He heads to the bathroom, tossing in the trash before taking out some things and turning on the water.

As she waits for him to come back, she generally traces over her pussy, feeling some stinging over some spots, but some relief.

She hopes she’s not in pain when she wakes up tomorrow, laughing a bit.

After closing her eyes for a few minutes, she is woken up by something cool and wet rubbing across her chest, making her look up.

She sees Terrance, wearing his black sweatpants again, lying next to her. He’s gently cleansing her chest and neck with the wet rag, dipping into the water bowl to rehydrate it.

He brings rag to her heat, gently rubbing it as he doesn’t want to hurt her even more, hearing her wince a bit.

“Sorry. Was a little too rough on you.” he said, wiping over her legs.

“Don’t feel bad. I asked for that.” she replied quietly, watching him smile at her.

After finishing wiping her body down, he places the rag into the bowl before getting up, placing the bowl on his other nightstand.

Grabbing the bottle of relief oil on his stand, he pours some into his hand before walking back over and beginning to gently massage Wynnie’s body, feeling her relax more under each swipe.

He heads to his dresser and takes out a big MIT logo shirt, placing it over her body before helping her up. He examines her face and arms a bit, checking to see if he accidentally harmed her.

“I’m gonna make us a grilled cheese with the garlic butter I made from the extra garlic you diced up. I’ll add some chips and Oreos to the plate, but what did you want to drink?” he asked, kissing her hand.

“A water is fine, but can you add some lemon and mint to it?” she said, a hoarse voice coming out.

He nods, placing a kiss on her cheek before walking out, leaving her in his room.

As she waits for him to return the food and drinks, she carefully changes the sheets on his bed, stuffing them together for him to take down in the morning before putting the new ones on.

Putting the last pillow on the bed, she hears footsteps in the hallway, making her look at the door.

Standing there was Terrance, carrying the food and drinks on a tray, stepping inside and close the door carefully.

“You didn’t have to change the the sheets.” as he notices the new sheets, placing the tray on the bed.

“Well, you made me a post sex meal and I knew it was gonna be a while, so I thought it would be fair for me to change that before you got back.” as she wraps her hands around his waist.

He nods, placing a kiss on her head as he gently guides her to the bed, sitting her down before sitting across from her.

She looks at the food, which was the perfectly toasted garlic grilled cheese sandwich she’s ever seen, golden Oreos, and possible sweet hot honey chips in front of her.

“Those are honey barbecue chips if you want wanted to know the flavor. Did a mixture of provolone, swiss, and colby jack for the cheese. And I added extra honey to your drink just in case.” he said, clearing his throat.

“Thanks. This looks amazing.” as she picks up a piece of the grilled cheese.

“You’re welcome. I know you’re really hungry.” he said, eating some of his chips.

She scoffs humorously before biting into her sandwich, moaning over the crispiness of the bread, tanginess of the garlic, and smokiness of the cheeses satisfying her tastebuds.

“You like?”

“I do.” as she nodded, smiling a bit. “Probably the most tastiest grilled cheese I have ever had.”

He nodded, biting into his sandwich as she ate some of her chips, drinking some of her water, which soothes the ongoing dryness in her throat.

She watches him casually eat more of his food, noticing how delicate he ass, with him locking eyes with hers before looking away in shyness.

“How did you find that set, by the way?” he axes, breaking the silence between them.

“…what set?” she replied confused, watching him laugh.

“The vibrator set, baby. How did you find it?“

“Oh!” as she finally understood what he was talking about. “You left it in my closet.”

“I was putting my stuff away and saw a white box in the closet. So I opened it and saw that set in there….kinda playing with it.”

He nods, taking a sip of his water before eating more his sandwich.

“What are you doing with that anyway?” she asks, sees him stop.

“It was an um…failed prototype that Mel made to pitch to OuterMore. They were coming up with a product to sell since they were thinking of which industry to go into next at the time before deciding to do cars.” he replied amusingly.

“I’ll let her know it works pretty well.” he added, smiling a bit.

She nods, rubbing his hand a bit as she ate a little more of her food, stopping as another question came to her mind.

“There was another device in there. Gave me access to a camera in here.” as she points her head in the direction of it, watching his eyes follow.

“Why do you have one?” she added, curiosity in her voice.

He went silent, taking a few more sips of his water before clearing his throat, fiddling with his drawstrings.

“….it was originally in yours since my second one is in my office.” he replied, watching her eyes widen.

“However, I decided to move it into here since I had no idea that room had one as well. Didn’t want to make it seem like I was watching you through that.”

“That’s nice of you.” as she looks at her food, hoping he doesn’t ask if she was watching him.

“Which is interesting because…” as he sat forward, leaning it a bit.

He lifts her face up, seeing a slight blush across her face, his expression moving into a sinister mood, smirking a bit.

“How do you know how I was looking when I was fucking the opener, Wyn?” he asked lustfully, hearing her breath skip.

She looks away frantically, but he brought her back with his hand, slowly moving it down to grab her throat, hearing her whimper.

“Mm.” as he leans in, gently kissing her mouth, feeling her melt in his hold.

“Does my little flower have a little thing of watching her lover pleasure himself?” he asked, her moan in response.

“…..maybe if he admitted to jacking off to secret photos he took of me, I wouldn’t have discover that.” she replied, watching him pause.

He looks at her in confusion, seeing her laugh evilly as she crawls into his lap, pushing the tray away.

“Yeah. Saw my pictures on your desk when I came to drop off the opener and you scribbled some explicit words on them. Want to explain that to me?” she asked, beginning to kiss on his neck.

He moans a bit, squeezing her ass a bit as she trails kisses to the other side of his neck.

“Nice tits to rest my dick between? Her ass looks great? Her lips looks edible to kiss?” as she leans in, stopping at his lips.

“…I tend to get a bit attached to something I want.” he said quietly, hearing her laugh.

“And what exactly do you want from me that you didn’t get yet?” she asked teasingly, rocking her hips a bit.

His face twitches, fighting the urge to fuck her right now as she’s wearing his alumni shirt, her hair still a bit wild from their session, and her face clearly shows how good it was based on the puffiness around her eyes, cheeks, and lips.

”….I want you to stay with me when you come back.” he admitted, seeing her stop.

“What?” she said, watching him smile.

“I want you to be my girlfriend. I don’t want this to end at all, even when you’re gonna be gone for two years. I know it sounds crazy, but I didn’t sleep with you because I had sexual needs. I slept with you because I wanted to show you that I really want you and this is not a one time thing only.”

He gently places her on her feet, not breaking their gaze at each other.

“I’m fine with you not working. Not an issue for me at all. I want to support your hobbies that you want to do. Planting your own garden, playing the piano, reading, writing. Everything.” he said, watching her face tremble a bit.

“You don’t have to worry about getting your own place. You can stay here, I won’t hold it over your head at all. We can do wherever you want to do, get whatever you wanna get, and go to whatever country you never been to. Help you whenever you have those violent memories playing.” he said, beginning to choke up.

Tears slowly form into their eyes as he holds her hand, bringing it to his face to kiss it a bit.

“…..Wynnie, I want to spend the rest of my life with *you.” he admitted.

“I can’t see a future without me and you, happily married, and raising our family in that house I have in Martha’s Vineyard. I know things gonna be rough on the way, but I’m not giving up that easily. Marriage and relationships are hard, but as long as you two find your way back to each other, we’re gonna be okay.” he said tearfully, feeling her wipe them away.

She breathes softly, thinking about what he’s saying, as he stands up, eyeing her with love in his eyes.

“I know I’m saying a lot right now, but it’s the truth. I want you here with me forever.” as he wraps his hands around her waist, pulling her closer.

“And if you don’t want that…..that’s okay too. Won’t hold it over your head.”

She looks at him with amusement as tears slowly stream at her face. A small giggle comes out of her, making him look at her confused.

“After you just fuck the shit out of me, you think I’m not gonna stay with you at all?” she asked, hugging him tightly.

“I accept.” she added, looking at him again. “And you look cute admitting to be in love with me right now, Terrance.”

He exhales in relief before placing a few kisses on her lips, hugging her tightly.

He looks forward to spending the rest of his life with her, and hopes to spend enough time before she leaves in a few weeks, his heart beating fast.

June 2065

Group 70 Mission Launch Day has arrived, as workers begin to load the spaceship with their things, putting them in their assigned rooms and locking it up so they don’t move as it launches.

In a small room on the launch site stood a group of people against a white background, with a camera facing them.

One of them is Wynnie, standing in the middle as she’s a bit short compared to the rest.

Her hair is straight and she is wearing her custom blue spacesuit, smiling with the rest of the Group 70 members as they take a group picture together.

The camera person takes a few more before dismissing them, satisfied with his selections.

“Alright, you all have about an hour before we sent you off. You can say your final goodbyes to your families, friends, and agents but report to the ship as soon as you’re done.” said a OuterMore worker, turning away to enter the ship.

Afterwards, everyone sprawled out, heading to their separate groups.

Wynnie walks for a few minutes, seeing the one person that’s waiting for her towards the end of the site: Terrance, who has a small smile on his face.

“Hey.” he said.

“Hey.” she replied, smiling a bit.

She looks at his outfit for the launch, almost similar to hers color wise.

A dark blue short sleeved shirt, navy blue dress pants, and black dress shoes, with a black watch on wrist.

“Mel couldn’t come?” she asks, hoping to say bye to her.

“Nah.” as he shook his head. “She has to drop and set up other you at the house. I’ll tell her you said bye when I see her.”

“Mm. Figured that’s what she was doing today.”

“Mmhm.” he said, stepping close.

She watches him stop in front of her, eyeing her down lovingly as he hands her something, making her look down.

Her sunflower and moonflower pattern water can.

“Oh my god!” she said quietly, taking it out of his hand.

“Workers forgot this while taking your things. Lucky, I remembered to bring it when I came to see you.” he said with a kind voice, watching her examine it.

“Thank goodness. I need an extra charm while out there.” she said, laughing a bit.

“Mmhm….and what do you do if you feel an attack coming over, with your oxygen level getting low?” he asked, watching her think of her answer.

“….you grab an oxygen tank mask and inhale it for a few minutes until you’re normal again.”

“Correct. And if you lost something you didn’t mean to?”

“Report it as soon as you can.” she replied, watching him nod.

“And which planet are y’all visiting first soon as you guys get there?”

She falters, thinking of an answer to that as they never discussed it.

“…Ne-Neptune?” she replied hesitantly, hoping that was right.

Terrance stares at her for a few seconds before laughing, kissing her forehead a few times.

“That was a fake one, dear.” he said, feeling her nudge him in his chest.

“You had me thinking I messed up!”

“Uh uh. Just wanted to see how prepared you are. You’re definitely ready.”

She smiles brightly, hearing a small ring of the bell, making her turn to see one of the group members ranged it, waving bye to their group as they got in the ship.

“And I think this is too.” he says as he pulls out something hidden from his back.

She turns around, seeing a small brown cow with sunflowers on their ears plushie in his big hands, her squealing quietly.

“You went back to the flower show and got it?!” she exclaimed, carefully taking it out of his hands.

“Couldn’t figure out what to get you as a parting gift so….” he said, watching her squeeze it and examine it.

“I love it. Represents the farms I used to pass when leaving and going home in Columbia.”

She looks at it for a few minutes, her smile slowly fading as the bell rings a few more times, signaling that two more members said their goodbyes and have entered the ship.

“….you’re scared, aren’t you?” as he moves closer, having a small distance between them.

She nods, holding the plushie to her chest, looking down.

“Seems like I found you too late. Now I’m leaving to stay with the stars for a while.”

“I’ll still be here, waiting for you.”

“But, I want you with me.” as she looks up, sadness in her eyes.

They looked at each other for a few minutes, the wind quietly blowing between them.

“I’ve been there, Wyn.” as he closes in the distance between them.

“Scared, terrified of not seeing my love ones again. Not sure if I’ll survive out there.”

The bell rings again, making him look over before looking back at her.

“Thankfully, I was proven wrong. It’s actually peaceful. You’re moving slowly, but I can assure you time is moving fast here. You’ll feel free out there, not worried about anything. It’ll go by quick.”

“Two years away from you is long, T.”

“We still have our monthly end of the month video calls. You can tell me everything that happened all month by writing it down and reading it to me.” as a small smile forms on his face.

He wrap his arms around her carefully, pulling her into an embrace, leaning down so no one can hear his next question.

“You do have your little….toy packed, right?” he asked softly, feeling her flinch from his lucious tone.

“Mmhm.” she said, rubbing her face against his chest a bit.

“Good. Very good.” as he chuckled, watching her smile lowly.

They can’t wait to see how the vibrators worked while one of them is in space, excitement filling their bodies up and relaxing her a bit.

30 minutes till takeoff, an OuterMore announcer said over the speaker, making everyone look up.

“…Plus, I’ll always be with you.” as he points at the center of the plushie, her eyes following.

She looks at him in confusion as she touches the center, noticing her finger went through the hole.

She pushes it back in and feels something touching her fingertip, grabbing it and taking it out, softly gasping.

What she was holding was a small heart shaped plushie, covered in mini romantic pictures of her and Terrance together, from her sleeping on him to her eating pasta at a restaurant while he held her hand, and her favorite one: them kissing under the stars.

“An extra charm for protection. Just so you’re safe, even when I’m not there.” he said, his voice breaking.

She hugs him tightly, with him hugging her back, both sniffling a bit.

She looks up at him, crashing her lips onto his, with him lifting her up a bit, not breaking the kiss.

They can hear some gasps and conversations about him, overstepping his boundaries by kissing her, but he didn’t care.

If this was gonna be the last time he was gonna see her, he was gonna show the world who she belongs to when she comes back.

Her protector. Her lover. Her everything.

They break the kiss, both panting hard as he places her on her feet, fixing her suit.

“….I love you, my honey.” she tearfully said, a soft smile.

“That’s my other nickname now?” he asked, with her nodding.

“You been very helpful and sweet. I think it’s perfect.”

He nods, a tear falling out of his eye, feeling warmth growing in him.

“….I love you too, my little flower.” he replied tearfully, backing up a bit to watch her leave.

15 minutes until takeoff. Time’s running out!, the announcer said over the speaker, hearing people say goodbye loudly and running to the bell.

Wynnie breathe softly as she puts the heart back into the plushie, beginning to slowly walk back.

“Please be patient and delicate with…her.” she said, seeing him nod.

“Always.” he replied with grace, beginning slowly walking back.

They held each other’s gazes as they grew further and further apart.

“See you in two years, Terrance.” she said, smiling brightly.

“See you in two years, Winona.” he said somberly.

She waves at him before turning away, following the rest of the group who hadn’t gotten on, being the last one to ring the bell, with the crew cheering at her, finally ready for takeoff.

Terrance and the rest of the agents head back inside, entering the control room to see the launch as a two minute countdown begins.

On the cameras inside, they see the assignments, now wearing the outer layer white spacesuit, and helmet, getting to their seats and strapped in, with crew members making sure they’re good to go.

In a row that faces the east wing, he spots Wynnie, being the second seat based on the plushie he gave her, holding it tightly to her chest.

She’s breathing hard, her breath fogging a little section of her helmet.

“You got this.” he whispered nervously, a 45 seconds left alert going out.

The countdown continues to wind down as the sounds of the spaceship starting is heard, with the lights in the cockpit cutting on.

Everything looks good, said one of the captains, flicking a switch, which turned the lights into a yellow color.

15 seconds.

Smoke begins to come out from the engines underneath, preparing to launch the ship as the holdings slowly remove itself from it, giving me a clearance.

10 seconds. 9. 8. 7. 6. 5. 4. 3…2…1.

Blast Off.

Booming sounds are heard as the spaceship launches itself to the sky at full speed, clearing takeoff.

The crew waits patiently for it to appear in space, having concern for it to malfunction at any point, possibly leading into death for everyone.

A few minutes later, the ship is in space, confirming a successful launch, making everyone cheer around them as Terrance exhales, thankful that it got his girl up there safely.

He sees her now relaxed, looking out of the window at the stars, rocks, and many other things she can identify.

“See you soon.” he uttered, carefully leaving the room and heading to his car to go home to see the other her.

Watching his coworkers leave out with their equipment and heading home, he heads to Mel, who was waiting patiently with a file and small flashlight in her hands.

“Do I even have to say it?” she asked jokingly, handing them to him.

“No. We’ve done this so many times, I have it engrained into my head.” he replied, making both of them laugh.

He reads the file carefully, a gloomy expression on his face, which worried her.

“How you holding up?” she asked, watching him look up.

“…I say fine. It’s not like she’s fully gone.” as he pointed upstairs.

Mel smirked, squeezing his shoulders as she grabs her bag, getting ready to leave.

“Just making sure you’re okay. I know today was difficult.” she said, heading to the door.

He nods, watching her open the door.

“She wanted me to tell you that she said goodbye. Since she didn’t get to see you.” he said, with Mel turning around.

“That’s very sweet of her.” she replied, leaning against the door.

He nodded softly, turning to head upstairs to his room.

“Don’t break her, you know.”

“Get home safely, Mel.” as he walks up the stairs.

“See you Monday, Terrance.” she replied, walking out and closing the door behind her, taking out the key he gave her and locking it.

As he gets near his bedroom, he stops at the entrance, taking in deep breaths.

He’s prepared for this as this is his career, but is he prepared for with a clone of his girlfriend?

That question plays in his head as he walks in, seeing her lying on the bed, not turned on.

As he gets closer, he examines her.

Dressed in a black dress and slippers, she matched exactly how Wynnie went to bed last night.

Same nose. Same eyelids. Same cheeks. Same freckles he liked to look at when she was sleeping on him. Same lips he kissed and touched on a lot. Her hair being as curly as it always was.

Other her was truly his Wynnie.

Mel did a great job with getting her details, blending everything in perfectly.

Leaning down, he places a kiss on her lips, which felt very cold, before standing back up, breathing harshly.

Time to begin the assignment, he said in his head as he held up the flashlight over her eyelids, taking a deep breath.

Clicking it on, he flashes the green light over a few times before turning it off, waiting for her to wake up.

A few seconds go by with no movement, making him a bit worried that it didn’t work.

Then, her eyes opened, looking at the ceiling. Sitting up, she looks around slowly, trying to figure out what’s going on.

“..G-Good evening, Winona.” he said, seeing her turn her face to him.

“…Am I back already?” she asked, slowly getting up.

“No. You fell asleep.”

“And they skipped over me?” she asked in a worrying way, see him shake his head.

“No. You didn’t get selected this time. We currently have you on a waitlist.” he said, remembering the script being set as her still waiting to go to space.

“So..” as she walks to him, a little smirk on her face.

“More time with you until it happens?” as she wraps her arms around his neck, heat in her eyes.

Terrance smiles, nodding his head as he wrapped his arms around her waist as he leans in to kiss her, with her letting him.

Two years is a long time, but at least a version of her remains on earth while she’s away.

And that’s all that matters to him.

A/N II: WHEW! He really does love her huh? Thank you everyone for reading this. Please stay tuned for the next updates of this and other works. As usual, send questions or comments if you like.

🏷️ : @childishgambinaax @ziayamikaelson @ssamm1984 @turbulentvoids @fadingcherryblossompeach @angryflowerwitch @amethyst09 @motheroffae @cerya @thatitbitch @darkfairymoon @j0ysyndr0m3 @blaqueberryk @theogbadbitch @megamindsecretlair @zillasvilla @kumkaniudaku @that-one-anxious-mango @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @dollys-world224 @blaqueberrykreads @bbywestwood @theefutureemmywinner @prettyfilmz

[kumkaniudaku]

🫦

[thedaze15]

Body tea pt 2. 🫦✨

[skvrpion]

[imperfectlyxangelic]

[ts-the-blacksmith]

My LEGO build has been submitted for IDEAS.

10,000 supports are needed to be a real LEGO set.

Please support it, if you want to make it real.

[alldthoughtsinmyhead]

Seducing The Priest

PART TWO

Time stopped.

The room was warm, but it suddenly felt stifling. Trina stood a few feet away, backlit by the low lamp on her dresser, bare except for that whisper of black fabric between her thighs.

His mouth went dry.

“I, uh…” he started, but the words abandoned him. He willed himself to look away, but his eyes refused to obey-- they roamed over her breasts, soft and heavy, tipped with brown nipples that begged to be touched. Her stomach, smooth and soft. Her thighs, strong and parted just slightly as she shifted her weight.

“I wanted to make sure you were comfortable,” Trina said softly, stepping closer. “Is the robe okay?”

Aaron swallowed. “Yes. Thank you.”

She took one more step, slow and sure. “You looked at me like you wanted to eat me alive,” she whispered, voice low and coaxing. “Back in my living room. I saw it. I felt it.”

Aaron clenched his fists at his sides, willing himself not to move. “Trina-”

“Just once,” she said, cutting him off. “Just this once. And you can go back to pretending I’m just another lost sheep.”

Her hand reached for the collar of the robe. He didn’t stop her. Her fingers, light and sure, skimmed over his chest, pulling the robe apart until it fell away from his shoulders, pooling at his feet.

For a moment, nothing moved. She stared at him, eyes wide-- and then her lips parted in a slow smile.

Something cracked in the air.

And Aaron reached for her like he was drowning.

His mouth crashed onto hers, all soft lips and suppressed hunger. He gripped her waist, pulled her flush against him, and moaned into her mouth when her hand wrapped around his cock -- already hard, already aching.

“This is wrong,” he breathed, kissing her jaw, her throat, the swell of her breast. “This is so wrong.”

She tilted her head back, offering herself freely. “Then stop.”

He didn’t.

He dropped to his knees, pulling her closer, his face pressed into her belly like a man praying for salvation in the very arms of sin. She ran her fingers through his curls as he kissed her skin--slow, reverent, desperate.

“You smell like heaven,” he muttered.

“No,” she said, voice husky, “you just forgot what this feels like.”

He pulled down her thong with trembling hands, and when she stepped out of it, he took a shaky breath before pushing her gently onto the bed.

And then he tasted her.

Long, slow strokes of his tongue over her slick heat. Fingers gripping her thighs as he devoured her like something sacred, something sweet, like the only way to feel whole was to make her come.

She was already shaking when she begged, “Aaron- please- I need—”

He rose, towering over her, eyes dark with need. “Turn around.”

She obeyed.

He gripped her hips, lined himself up, and paused—just a second, just a breath—before sliding into her with a groan that sounded like a man breaking apart.

Every thrust was thick with guilt and hunger and all the weeks of quiet longing he had buried beneath scripture and cold water and prayer.

She called his name like worship.

He came with his face buried in her shoulder, her body gripping him, trembling, pulsing.

Afterward, silence. Not shame. Just breath. Just the sound of a priest learning what sin tastes like.

Several hours later, Trina hugged her duvet tighter to her chest as she heard her front door close.

Twin tears dripped across the bridge of her nose and soaked into the pillow.

The sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach told her she would never see him again.

Previous

tag:

@23jammy @bigmac1999 @flaps200 @transparentphantomface @jaszys-fantasy @queenofthingsx @fakxmbj @asreadbynicky @withoutmusiclifewouldbflat @queensweetpea156837 @trappincx @professionalshapeshifter @certified-fame @naughtynolly @bougiebootie @lauren1000000 @hoisucooll @bigjuiciisushii

[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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[uninterruptedafricans]

Video by Alex Beightol on TikTok

Let’s pay attention to how people specifically talk about the romantic relationships between “conventionally attractive” White/Light-skin men and unambiguous Black/Darkskin Women.

1. Nicolas "Nic" Vansteenberghe and Olandria Carthen

2. Teyana Taylor and Aaron Pierre

3. Megan Thee Stallion and Klay Thompson

People will try to compartmentalize it, but all of the negative dialogue stems from the same source. It’s all anti-Blackness.

@ceciliaregina273 on TikTok coined a phrase “relationship meritocracy” : it’s the idea that a good, healthy romantic relationships have to be earned. It’s the idea that a woman has to be “worthy” and “deserve” a positive love story with a desirable man. However, that “worthiness” depends on how society perceives you.

Often times Black Women are unfairly deemed less worthy in our society which is why the conversation surrounding certain Black women celebrities is whether or not they are “deserving” of a desirable partner..

Please understand your role in contributing to Anti-Black ideas by joining in these kinds of discussions online. We are all worthy .. No good thing is “out of your league”..

[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.

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ten.

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

[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

[thedaze15]

🖤