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This is a collection of my original stories; everything I write is my own work. Sometimes I use actors or models as face claims for inspo and to help visualize the characters, but the plots, dialogue, and worlds are mine.
My masterlist is grouped into Fantasy, Contemporary Romance, Dark Romance, and One-shots. See below for face claims. Most of my stories contain erotic elements, but there's always a warning, so feel free to explore.
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My Masterlist
A collection of all my fics on Tumblr.
Face Claims
Aaron Pierre FC (Terry, Miles, GL, OC...etc)
David Corenswet FC (Clark Kent)
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Summary: Terry Richmond returns to his hometown for a long deserved rest and runs into his old neighborhood tomboy who used to follow him around like a puppy when he was a teenager. Times have changed and the tomboy has come into her own, bending men and women her way...and he likes it.
“Madness, mad
Got no respect
Madness, mad
Madness, mad
Maybe I just fantasize this one
Stay on my mind thеn no damage done
'Cause no turning back if it's onе-on-one
Me on my back then done-and-done”
Amanda Reifer – “Woman Now”
Yesterday Was An Old Spring Day
Terry’s father’s voice boomed up through his bedroom floor. He winced at the slurring of harsh words toward his mother. Another Saturday night. Another drinking binge that disrupted the harmony of their home.
“You’re not going to tell me what I can do or not do in my own goddamn house, Carmen!” Terry Sr. barked out.
“All this drinking you’re doing will mess up your liver. Or would you rather get wet-brain like your uncle?!”
His mother’s tone had passed her usual placating. She sounded pissed and tired.
“I’m trying to study up here!” Terry called out to them both.
A thick pre-calculus book and notebook paper filled with his notes spread before him on his wobbly student desk. His last semester of highschool ending well depended on passing his best class with flying colors and his parents were causing him to lose focus.
A loud crash of broken glass jolted Terry, and he ran downstairs to see if his father had gone crazy.
“See what you did?” Carmen scolded, lifting pieces of a bourbon bottle.
They both fussed back and forth, ignoring Terry completely. His father tottered next to the built-in bar sink that housed a bounty of adult libations of the fiery throat kind. He held a crystal tumbler filled to the lip with dark amber liquid. Eventually, his mother started cursing a blue streak, threatening to leave Terry Sr.
They continued to ignore Terry’s presence.
He had enough and went outside to sit on his porch steps to get some air. Their continued arguing irritated him more, and he booked it towards the woods.
“Terry! Where ya going?”
His young neighbor, Jaliya, ran toward him from the baseball game she abandoned. Earlier she’d been crying that the older boys didn’t want her to play with them because they’d already picked even teams. Terry bossed them into letting her be the pitcher for both teams. Ten unhappy male faces grumbled, but he was older and cooler, so they agreed. Plus, Jaliya had a decent arm for a twelve-year-old.
“Can’t leave the game, Jaliya!” Logan Phelps called out.
Logan was fourteen, and Jaliya’s most ardent foe in denying her fun with the boys. Terry had glanced at the older girls on their street playing double dutch and hanging near a light pole. Jaliya didn’t want to play with them. Her eyes shined behind pink glasses, and her teeth gleamed with light green braces. She tried keeping up with his long strides.
“Not now, Lil Bit,” he yelled, using the nickname he gave her. He waved an arm for her to stay back.
His body stayed rigid from the encounter with his parents. They’d been fighting each other for months and he was terrified of them divorcing. The thought pricked his eyes with tears and he sprinted into the woods.
After five minutes of running blindly at full speed, he gripped his side from exertion. Gasping, he heard the familiar tick-tick-tick-tick sound of Jaliya’s dirt bike wheel spoke smacked by the Ace of Spades card he put there for her because she wanted to copy his ten-speed.
“You okay, Terry?”
“I told you to stay back there,” he said.
He rose to his full height and held his hands on his hips. Sweat poured through his basketball shorts and mesh tank vest. Jaliya shifted her sneaker’d feet and the beads in her copper-brown braided hair jangled on her shoulders. He wiped his eyes, but she’d already peeped the angry tears of frustration on him. She put down her bike and walked over to him quietly, throwing her arms around his waist.
“Don’t be sad,” she said into his stomach.
Her little chunky body felt warm and comforting. He patted the top of her head and pulled back from her.
“I’m okay.”
“My parents fight sometimes, too.”
He gulped and averted his gaze to look at a tree. His parents were loud enough for everyone to hear outside. Embarrassing.
“I’m good, Jaliya. Gonna take a walk…clear my head.”
“I’ll walk with you. I’ll be real quiet, too.”
“Go finish your game.”
“It’s pretty much over.”
She lifted her bike and pushed it alongside him without talking. The tick-tick-ticking of her bike spokes broke the silence with each step. He laughed at the absurdity of her trying to push the bike slowly to stifle the sound. She grinned green metal.
“Sorry.”
“No worries.”
They strolled together quietly as the sun dropped lower behind the canopy of mixed conifers. The crunch of leaves under their feet became a soothing way for Terry to ease his mind of worry over his parents.
“Is it true you’re joining the marines instead of going to college like Montez?”
“Yeah. My dad signed my enlistment papers today. I leave right after I graduate.”
Terry had been an overachiever in school. Pushed a grade ahead, he excelled in extracurricular activities like wrestling and Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu. A wrestling scholarship was within his grasp, but he chose his father’s military footsteps. Terry Richmond Sr. was a brown belt in Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu and taught his son the art at a young age. The discipline kept the younger Terry out of trouble, unlike his cousin Mike, who squandered his athletic gifts hanging with the wrong crowd.
Jaliya sucked in a breath.
“You won’t go camping with all of us this summer?”
“Nope. Not this year. You’ll be fishing and canoeing while I’ll be going through boot camp.”
“It won’t be fun without you there!”
A slight whine colored her complaint.
“I’ll miss you, too, Lil Bit.”
“I didn’t say I’d miss you.”
“Sure.”
“I won’t. You know why?”
“Why?”
“I’m gonna write to you. I’ll send you letters, cookies, and even postcards from the camping trip…and Christmas cards!”
“You’ll start junior high in the fall. Trust me, you’ll be busy making new friends and won’t have time to write.”
“Are you saying I’d forget about you?”
Her bushy eyebrows furrowed.
“I’m saying your life is going to change and you don’t have to worry about writing to me all the time. I’ll be coming home to visit occasionally when I can.”
They curved around an ancient maple tree and headed back home. Their houses were next door to each other.
“Oh, shit!” Jaliya shouted.
The streetlights were on.
She rode her bike ahead as her mother parked a sedan on the street. Tossing her bike on the side of her house, Jaliya ran to the pine oak that divided their properties and had a cut branch that led to her bedroom window. She hoisted herself up, crawled along a twisted brown limb, and bravely hurtled herself through a window kept partially open by a stick.
Terry walked to the front of his house and sat on his porch wall again, watching Jaliya’s mother Patti and older sister Montez head up to their porch carrying a pizza box and bags of groceries.
“Hey, Terry,” Montez said.
He waved, eyeing the fellow highschool senior up and down. She’d finally started talking to him again after he dated one of her friends. Rumors of him banging the friend in the park, all true, had reached Montez, and she started acting snippy with him, even though she went with a bum ass dude from his calculus class. Montez always gave him mixed signals. She walked around their high school like some glamorous model with her lithe frame and long legs, her skin the perfect shade of pre-summer brown from hours outdoors sunbathing by her pool. Her hair cascaded past her shoulders with a light pressing, and she moved like a graceful swan. He would’ve preferred Montez’s legs up in the air at the park instead of the other girl.
Jaliya swung open their front door with a boisterous energy, pretending to have been inside before the streetlights flickered on.
“Ooh, you smell musty,” Montez said, crinkling her nose.
Jaliya sniffed her armpits.
“I don’t smell nothin’,” Jaliya said.
Patti pushed Jaliya back indoors.
“Upstairs. Bath…now. Bringing that wild smell in here. Funky like all them boys,” Patti teased.
Terry grinned, watching his neighbors. He inhaled the spring air and his mother came outside, handing him a Pepsi.
“I’m sorry, baby. We’ll get through this…your dad and I get to disagreeing about things, and his drinking makes it worse. He said he’s going to do better.”
Carmen’s voice sounded hopeful. She stroked his hair, which was the same texture as hers. Thick curls that needed clipping for his new career.
Terry kissed her cheek, and she left him alone.
He finished his soda and wandered into his home. His father watched TV in their den and his mother flitted about much calmer. He climbed the stairs to his room and sat on his bed. There were only a couple of months left before he’d sleep in a new place. Experience new things. He would step into the manhood awaiting him. He wanted to make his parents proud. Prayed they’d stay together and weather any storm while he was away.
A flickering red light captured his attention on his wall.
Terry looked out through his window. Jaliya’s bedroom light was on. He could see into her messy room. She held a small flashlight and used the Morse Code he taught her two years ago. He and his homeboys played capture the flag in the woods using it at night, and she wanted to learn so she could play secret spy with her friends at school by passing notes in code.
Grabbing a pen and some notebook paper, he jotted down the message.
I LIED. I WILL MISS YOU. DON’T FORGET ME.
It was a sweet message from a sweet kid.
Today is a New Summer Day
Terry’s first time home in eight years for a long length of time was a celebration to his parents. His mother stayed a happy homemaker and his father finally retired as a marine Sergeant Major. They worked through their past problems and committed to living their golden years in peace. His three older sisters were all married and scattered around town, and he was the only child in the family unattached. A happy bachelor, to the displeasure of his mother. He had nieces and nephews he wanted to see, and his parents planned a homecoming weekend for their entire family.
He’d finished a grueling training stint teaching, and was due two months of downtime before returning to Parris Island, South Carolina. He spent long hours at the MCRD site, training new recruits as a MCMAP instructor. Instead of traveling out of the country, he opted to go back to the family nest and decompress with his momma’s home-cooking and fishing with his dad.
Part of his desire coming home was to see his childhood neighbor Montez. Word got to him through his momma that she recently divorced — no kids—and he wanted a chance to reconnect. He’d scrolled through her social media pages and ogled her pictures. She still looked as good as he remembered before he joined the military at seventeen. They’d almost hooked up his last week before graduation, but the timing and his goal of becoming a marine like his dad took precedence. Montez ended up marrying her college sweetheart. The marriage was short-lived, and Montez returned to Louisiana to start over. She’d wiped all traces of her ex husband and there was nothing giving hints to a current boyfriend, so maybe this would be his chance to have a fling if nothing more. His mother probably already plotted some type of barbecue or pool party with Montez’s mother Patti, hoping to play Cupid.
His parents picked him up from the Lafayette Regional Airport, an hour's drive round-trip from their home in New Iberia. They rolled in front of their house just after midnight in the old family mini-van, and he carried his camo duffle bag and backpack up the stairs to his old bedroom that his mother kept clean and unchanged from when he left as a teenager.
Not yet sleepy from his late flight, Terry opened the bedroom window and then sat on his bed with just a nightlight on that cast a soft yellow glow in the room.
Home.
His room smelled the same, the scent of lavender sachets in his bureau drawers that his mother made, along with the old odor of an overly-cleaned sneaker collection lined up against the wall next to his closet. As the only boy, he had the smallest room to himself and had to be creative with the space that he used up. That meant keeping everything neat and in order. His father drummed that into him and his sisters.
“Shhh! Shhh!!”
Low voices from outside drew his eyes toward the window. Down below in the darkness, two figures giggled and shushed each other. Then they kissed, their hands groping asses and two sets of breasts. After a time, one woman parted, slinking off toward the street and the other climbed the old pine oak.
It had to be Jaliya.
Terry grinned, watching the ambiguous shape climb onto part of the roof before crawling through the window…and getting stuck. Two legs flailed and her midsection moved up and down, trying to loosen the window. For a moment, Terry thought he’d have to go outside and climb the tree to help her, but she somehow got enough room to slither in and fall on the floor. She pulled down a blind, and when a light popped on, only her silhouette was visible.
Twenty years old and still sneaking in the house.
He chuckled, happy to know Lil Bit was in town. Last he heard was that she was in college and doing a student exchange in Europe somewhere. As he predicted, she came into her own and stopped writing to him after her second year of junior high. Like most of the kids from their neighborhood that moved away, all updates came from parents bragging about accomplishments or lamenting the fact that there weren’t as many visits home.
Jaliya’s bedroom light went out. He looked forward to catching up with her and Montez.
Sleep came easy. The humidity didn’t even stop his rest. He awoke the next morning refreshed and ate a hearty late breakfast with his parents. Hash browns and fried eggs with thick ham slices covered his enormous plate. They hung onto every word he shared and his father looked proud to have a drill master in the family leading the new breed of soldiers.
Two hours after their meal, his parents left to go shop for home items on sale at a sporting goods depot. His mother wanted a new lawn furniture set, and his father needed new fishing tackles. He went outside to see them off and Patti Brown from next door sauntered over and hugged him, inviting him for a swim to beat the heat that brought sweat to his face and neck.
Terry accepted the invite, eager to see Montez.
He groomed himself well, excited to let his facial hair grow in to form a nice mustache and goatee that he’d have to shave off in two months back on base. He brushed waves in his short cut, and used subtle aftershave cologne. His old swim trunks still fit and he climbed into a snug fitting orange one that showed more of a bulge up front than when he was younger. He’d gone through another growth spurt in his early twenties. The other trunks looked a little ratty, and it was better to let Montez see what he was packing as open advertisement. He threw on a t-shirt and grabbed a thick blue towel from the upstairs linen closet.
Patti threw open her front door after the second knock and ushered him into an air-conditioned paradise. His parents still used fans and a swamp cooler.
“My, my, my, you look so handsome, Terry! Your momma said you work in South Carolina now.”
“Yes, ma’am. Been there two years as a Gunnery Sergeant. I’ll do another year and transfer back to Camp Lejeune.”
“That’s wonderful.”
Patti was already sipping on some rosé wine and her long yellow caftan looked cool and comfortable.
“Go on out back. Montez is out there.”
Patti smiled when she noticed the gleam in his eyes at the mention of Montez.
“You want some wine?” she offered.
“Maybe later. I’ll swim first.”
“Smart man. Off you go.”
Patti’s fair skin looked blotchy from the sun and there were more wrinkles on her face that gave her a vintage beauty. He could see exactly what Montez would look like in her early sixties. Cool air swirled around him as he headed to the back sliding doors that led to the backyard and pool. A recent addition to the property was a small sauna room set in the far back corner of the pool area.
“Oh my God, Terry!”
Montez jumped up from her lounge chair in a two-toned green and yellow bikini, her long hair swept up into a messy bun that looked curly from swimming. The sun had slightly burned and peeled her nose. She looked nearly the same as she did at seventeen. He hugged her tight, bringing her in close. Her perfume smelled sweet, like roses in bloom. She elevator’d her eyes on him, noting the trunks and he caught the imperceptible puckering of her lips.
“You look good, girl,” he said.
“Me? You walked out here all grown-looking and confident. Marine life suited you well.”
“Can’t complain.”
“C’mon, sit down…talk to me.”
They caught up for a time.
He hadn’t expected her to go right into the dissolution of her marriage, but she spent the first half hour ruminating on it before asking about his life. She offered him lemonade from the pitcher on the small table between their seats, and he bragged on his career. He used her smartphone to share his picture on the marine website instructing young soldiers how to throw each other on a mat.
“So you train soldiers how to be the few and the proud?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Ma’am? Sir, I am only a year older than you. Still young. Not someone’s ma’am, yet.”
She leaned in toward him as they spoke face to face. Montez gave him the ‘I’m interested in you for real’ vibes and he relaxed more.
“How long are you here for? Are you going on the annual camping trip?” he asked.
Her nose scrunched up.
“No, I probably won’t do it. I’m using up my vacation days from my last job and then I have to start looking for new work. I have a friend in New Orleans who will hook me up with a temp job at her insurance company. After my divorce, I’ve been starting over with everything and I think New Orleans is a nice change for me. How long are you here for?”
“Two months.”
“Wow. I may actually reconsider going to New Orleans so soon.”
“You should.”
He reached for his glass of lemonade and a loud splash drew their attention to the pool. A sleek form swam under the surface the full length of the pool.
“Here she comes. Lil Miss Troublemaker,” Montez muttered in a spiteful tone.
“Troublemaker?”
“Jaliya. She dropped out of school and our parents are pissed. Had a whole scandal in France. Our parents had to bust her out of jail over there. I’ll tell you about it another time.”
Jaliya broke the surface, swiping water from her face as she tread near the edge.
“Terry Richmond.”
Jaliya’s silky voice struck him, but not as hard as her face.
All that coppery, chestnut brown bushy hair was gone and in its place was a sleek honey-blonde fade cut that made her face the center of attention. No more braces pushing back her overbite. No glasses rounding her slanted eyes. Her top lip no longer poked out like it used to and it lined up evenly with her smaller bottom lip, giving her a natural pouty look.
She lifted out of the pool and the mint-green string bikini barely hiding her shape had his eyes popping out like some Looney Tunes cartoon wolf. Flat-chested no more, she padded over to him, dripping wet, and threw her arms around his neck, squeezing her dampness into him.
“Hey,” he gushed in her ear, lifting her up.
He stopped from squeezing her back, very much aware of the softness pressed into him, and put her back on her feet.
She took the seat next to Montez and grabbed a towel. When she bent over, he admired the thin g-string of the bikini bottom swallowed by the golden brown of her upside down heart-shaped ass.
Jaliya was still compact compared to her taller sister. All it took was a few extra inches stretching her height to turn the chunky baby fat into smoothed out curves on a still very athletic-looking frame. Front to back, Lil Bit was what he considered a fun-sized beauty for his own height and weight. Had Montez not been there, he would’ve wiped his mouth because it watered so badly staring at her sister. Subconsciously, he questioned the adverse feelings that welled up within him. His entire life knowing her had been that of a protector. The big brother she never had who understood her ambivalence at becoming a woman.
She’d come to him and his cousin Mike crying about her mother forcing her to take etiquette classes like Montez did. Bitched about never wanting to grow breasts because the boys would treat her different. How many times had he snatched her up from beating a boy’s ass in the street when they made fun of her teeth before she had braces? She was a quick-to-fight little badger back then, readily throwing punches at boys twice her size, but she’d blubber like a crybaby if forced to be girly or left out of football games.
It felt weird to view her as a sexy young woman now. Her attractiveness unnerved him. What happened to that goofy little chunky grade school pipsqueak that followed him around with his rowdy male friends as the neighborhood tomboy?
Terry tightened up, not wanting to offend Montez, who had already tensed up with Jaliya’s sudden presence in the water.
“Lil Bit,” he finally huffed out.
“In the flesh,” Jaliya said, plopping down on the chair and using the towel to dry her hair.
So different. So grown.
Terry’s mind swam with the shock of seeing the tomboy next door blossom into a dime piece. Jaliya looked like the baddies his fellow soldiers jumped into DM’s recklessly for.
She reached over to the small patio table and lifted a pair of glasses to wear. He stared at a fucking bombshell. Her glow-up rivaled Montez’s normally unrivaled beauty.
“I’ll go make some more lemonade and let you two catch up,” Montez said.
She grabbed the empty clear pitcher with melted ice.
“Are you hungry? I can make some sandwiches.”
“That would be cool. Thanks, Montez,” he said.
She nodded and walked away. Jaliya slipped into her sister’s seat.
“Look at you! All muscles and shit!”
Jaliya reached out and poked his chest through his shirt.
“Who you showing out for? Her?” she quipped.
“What?”
“Oh, you’re not hip to the set-up? Our mommas want you and my insufferable sister to become a thing. Honestly, you’d be a rebound, but who am I to judge?”
Terry burst out laughing when she rolled her eyes. She acted the same way. Even as a grown ass woman, Jaliya was still Jaliya.
But her bathing suit…
The triangular scrap of mint-green barely covered her vulva.
He shifted in his seat and tugged down on his shirt. His attraction was visceral, and it scared him at the suddenness. The bulge in his trunks thickened.
“I like that,” she said.
“Huh?”
She pointed to his face.
“Your mustache and goatee.”
Her fingers reached out.
“Can I touch it?”
Her soft tone and choice of words charged the air around him.
“Yeah,” he said.
She stood and dropped two fingers down to his chin first, and stroked the hair there. She traced her index finger around his mouth and up to his mustache.
“You look sophisticated with facial hair.”
“Think so?” he said.
The warmth of his breath blew against her finger and she did something that caught him off guard. She took her index and pointer finger and rubbed them across his lips. He froze, and their eyes locked.
She inserted the tips of her fingers inside his mouth. His resistance was nowhere to be found as his lips parted without him even thinking about it.
She fucked his mouth with those fingers.
“Such a good boy,” she whispered.
He stared up at her, letting her slowly move her digits in and out. All across his wet tongue. A groan escaped from him and his dick grew stiff like a flagpole.
“I missed you,” she whispered.
He sucked on her fingers.
“I always wondered if you had a big dick when I was in highschool. You walk like it’s heavy,” she sighed.
He moaned on her fingers, and his dick jumped in his trunks.
“Oh, wow…you are big,” she said.
His dick had swollen so much in size that it slipped out from the left bottom leg of his trunks. It sat hot and heavy against his thigh, and Jaliya kept inserting her fingers in his mouth.
“You’re making me sticky,” she sighed.
She removed her fingers from between his lips and slid her bikini bottom to the side. A thin triangular strip of soft pubic hairs led down to puffy labia that glistened.
“Oh shit, Jaliya…” he moaned.
He thought he pissed on himself, but his dick leaked a continuous stream of pre-cum onto his thigh, and the cement under their feet. She touched her pussy lips and wiped away her slickness, stuffing her fingers back into his mouth.
“I know you like how that tastes, huh?”
He nodded.
“Go get in the pool. Now,” she hissed, sliding her bikini bottom back in place.
He heard the backyard sliding doors open. Kicking off his slides, he pulled off his t-shirt, flinging it on the chair. He dove head-first into the pool. The cool water shocked his skin and his dick, dampening his ardor.
What the fuck just happened?
He stayed under water until he reached the far side of the pool, giving himself distance and time for his erection to shrink back to respectable flaccidness. It took longer than he expected. The pressure on his leg from his dick and the material of his trunks holding it against his thigh spelled out the heft that Jaliya witnessed up close.
He could still savor the taste of her pussy on his tongue, and it made him feverish for more. His entire body throbbed with sexual need. He couldn’t understand the erotic urgency she brought out in him with just fingers in his mouth.
No lead up, no teasing…hell, she didn’t even ask him if she could stick her fingers in his mouth. Had she been able to read his attraction to her? If any other woman had done that, he would’ve slapped her hand away and jumped up. Instead, he sat there willingly, letting her do what she wanted without protest.
Terry splashed around until he felt secure enough to rejoin Montez and Jaliya. Montez brought out a tray with the new batch of lemonade and two turkey sandwiches cut in half. There were two glasses of rosé wine, too.
“Can I have one?” Jaliya asked, reaching for one of the large sandwich halves.
Montez put the tray on the table and slapped her sister’s hand away.
“I made these for me and Terry.”
“She can have half of mine,” he said, not wanting them to fight over it.
She had him in a trance. Whatever sorcery she pulled, he let her do whatever she wanted. If she had wanted to climb on top of his dick he would have let her… and fucked her in front of her momma and sister. Her daddy, too.
A delirious energy enveloped him like a high without being high on anything but her.
Jaliya took a sandwich half from the plate, then handed him the other. He accepted and took a bite after she did first. She reached for a glass of wine and Montez took it away.
“You aren’t old enough for that,” Montez spat.
Jaliya leaned back in her seat and continued nibbling on the turkey sandwich.
“So stupid,” Jaliya said. “Terry, I was in France for a semester and I could drink all I wanted over there. Eighteen is the legal age. They treated me like an adult—”
“But you weren’t acting like an adult over there, now were you?” Montez snapped at her.
Jaliya glanced at him.
“She’s trying to embarrass me like I give a damn.”
“You should be embarrassed—”
Terry put his half-eaten sandwich back on the tray.
“Maybe I should head back home. You two have some things to work out, and I don’t want to get caught in the middle.”
Montez grabbed his arm, then handed him the plate with his food on it.
“I’m sorry. I forgot my manners,” Montez said.
Jaliya grinned and ate her food. She broke a piece of tomato off from her bread and looked over at him.
“You’re curious now, huh?” Jaliya said with a mischievous twinkle in her eye.
“What’s a trip to Europe without a little carrying on?” he joked, trying to smooth over the tension.
“Exactly, Terry,” Jaliya said.
“Let’s talk about something else,” Montez said.
“Why? You brought it up attempting to make him not like me.”
Terry shook his head at Jaliya and she curled her lips, taking the hint to keep quiet for him. He tilted his head to add emphasis.
“Alright…I’ll be quiet.”
Terry cleared his throat and asked about the new addition to the backyard.
“Oh, that’s daddy’s new family sauna. It fits four people at a time. Come, let me show you what it looks like inside! It’s great for sore muscles and feels fabulous after a good swim.”
Terry tossed the last piece of his food in his mouth and brushed his hands together. He followed Montez to the sauna. From the corner of his eye, he watched Jaliya take a glass of wine and head indoors.
Clark Kent x Reader
Summary: Clark can’t keep his nose off you.
CW: Explicit content, mild obsession, soft and fluffy undertones.
Your scent is like a drug to Clark.
You don’t understand it. He can’t explain it.
All you know is that no matter how agitated he is, the moment he buries his face in your neck, he goes still—like a switch flips and the world quiets.
Every time you leave a spot for a moment, you return to find him sitting there, eyes half-closed.
“It’s warm and smells like you,” he’ll say, like that’s a perfectly reasonable explanation.
You always roll your eyes, smiling faintly, and find another place to “warm up” for him.
Chores on Saturdays take forever because he keeps abandoning his task just to sniff your hair or nuzzle your neck.
Cooking isn’t much better. Either he’s got you in a tight hug from behind, face buried in your shoulder, or he’s on his knees, hands around your waist, nosing at your hips like a man addicted.
He’s so needy...like a puppy.
Sometimes you watch him on TV taking down monsters from distant planets, and it’s hard to believe he’s the same man who’d live under your skin if he could.
When you watch movies together, he hooks your leg over his and toys idly with your folds, occasionally lifting his fingers to his nose for long, greedy sniffs.
Sometimes he sits on the floor between your thighs, head resting against your leg, pressing his nose close to your core just to breathe you in.
On more mornings than you could count, you've woken to find your bare bottom lifted high in the air, Clark's nose occasionally slipping from the crack of your butt into the wet folds of your sex. One large hand holding you open for him while the other is a blur of activity between his legs till he splatters the sheets with cum.
The funniest part is when he has to leave for work. Along with the usual goodbye kiss, he slides his fingers inside you to collect a trace of your juice, something to keep him company. Then he keeps sneaking off at the office to sniff his fingers in private until he finally has to wash them.
The real challenge came when he had to leave for an intergalactic mission.
He was eager to save another world, but sulked almost to the point of depression at the thought of not smelling you for weeks.
That was when you came up with an idea.
You found a silk handkerchief and soaked it in your scent—gathering every trace of moisture he coaxed from you with his hands and mouth. Whenever he had a quiet moment in space, he'd pull it out, pressing it to his face while his hand moved in long, tight strokes, muffling your name against the fabric.
On the eve of his return, he wrapped it around himself, thrusting into the little pocket he made of it, mind full of you—folded just the way he liked.
That was how he brought it back: ruined with both your scent and his release.
For the whole day after his return, he lay prone while you sat on his face and caught him up on everything he'd missed while he was away.
That is therapy for Clark. His face... buried at your center; your voice, music to his ears-- while your fluids overflow his mouth, dripping off the sides of his cheeks and jaw.
Clark Kent x Reader
Summary: Clark can’t keep his nose off you.
CW: Explicit content, mild obsession, soft and fluffy undertones.
Your scent is like a drug to Clark.
You don’t understand it. He can’t explain it.
All you know is that no matter how agitated he is, the moment he buries his face in your neck, he goes still—like a switch flips and the world quiets.
Every time you leave a spot for a moment, you return to find him sitting there, eyes half-closed.
“It’s warm and smells like you,” he’ll say, like that’s a perfectly reasonable explanation.
You always roll your eyes, smiling faintly, and find another place to “warm up” for him.
Chores on Saturdays take forever because he keeps abandoning his task just to sniff your hair or nuzzle your neck.
Cooking isn’t much better. Either he’s got you in a tight hug from behind, face buried in your shoulder, or he’s on his knees, hands around your waist, nosing at your hips like a man addicted.
He’s so needy...like a puppy.
Sometimes you watch him on TV taking down monsters from distant planets, and it’s hard to believe he’s the same man who’d live under your skin if he could.
When you watch movies together, he hooks your leg over his and toys idly with your folds, occasionally lifting his fingers to his nose for long, greedy sniffs.
Sometimes he sits on the floor between your thighs, head resting against your leg, pressing his nose close to your core just to breathe you in.
On more mornings than you could count, you've woken to find your bare bottom lifted high in the air, Clark's nose occasionally slipping from the crack of your butt into the wet folds of your sex. One large hand holding you open for him while the other is a blur of activity between his legs till he splatters the sheets with cum.
The funniest part is when he has to leave for work. Along with the usual goodbye kiss, he slides his fingers inside you to collect a trace of your juice, something to keep him company. Then he keeps sneaking off at the office to sniff his fingers in private until he finally has to wash them.
The real challenge came when he had to leave for an intergalactic mission.
He was eager to save another world, but sulked almost to the point of depression at the thought of not smelling you for weeks.
That was when you came up with an idea.
You found a silk handkerchief and soaked it in your scent—gathering every trace of moisture he coaxed from you with his hands and mouth. Whenever he had a quiet moment in space, he'd pull it out, pressing it to his face while his hand moved in long, tight strokes, muffling your name against the fabric.
On the eve of his return, he wrapped it around himself, thrusting into the little pocket he made of it, mind full of you—folded just the way he liked.
That was how he brought it back: ruined with both your scent and his release.
For the whole day after his return, he lay prone while you sat on his face and caught him up on everything he'd missed while he was away.
That is therapy for Clark. His face... buried at your center; your voice, music to his ears-- while your fluids overflow his mouth, dripping off the sides of his cheeks and jaw.
y’all ever read a fanfic that you cannot believe an author just wrote for free?? what an honor it is to read a piece of someone’s soul they shared out of nothing but love for a piece of media. what a privilege it is to be allowed their talent because you share an interest!!
Honestly sometimes I be feeling guilty!!! 🫣 I’m like this woman created this work of ART when I know there’s a million and one other things she could be doing besides typing and editing stories for strangers on the internet for free. I know time and energy goes into what y’all do and you don’t have to do it. So I’m always grateful because reading ya’lls stories really do make me happy. ❤️❤️❤️
Malaysia sat cross legged in their penthouse one evening. Over the past few weeks, she found herself developing this new bond with Skylar, almost like she had found a confidant in his dad's girlfriend. She was able to tell Skylar about her situation with Tre and Skylar promised not to tell MBJ unless shit went left between the two. Skylar had also started staying to at the penthouse quite a bit more but Malaysia didn't mind.
That afternoon, Malaysia was scrolling through her instagram feed with Sky sitting across her and drinking a margarita when she stumbled upon a post from TheShadeRoom and a caption:
"#Baewatch, Trevante Rhodes posted with a mystery lady on his arm leaving a restaurant late at night"
It was a picture of Tre with his arm slung over a lady's shoulder and a smile plastered across his face... it looked like they were cozying up to each other that night and Malaysia's heart sank....why did he choose to do this? Was this because they decided to keep their relationship private? Was this why he chose to step out with a new girl and act like Malaysia Jordan was just another girl on his list???.... She had more questions than answers..
She told herself she wasn't going to cry, that she wasn't that girl but the lump in her throat said otherwise...
Malaysia started pacing the living room and almost chewing on her acrylic nails when Sky's voice broke through.
"Baby girl..you're gonna wear a hole in that floor if you keep pacing like that".....
Malaysia huffed, throwing herself down beside her on the sofa.
"I.... just don't get it...He...He could've atleast told me if it was nothing but....now the whole internet thinks he's boo'd up...and I'm just sitting here looking so stupid Sky!!!"...
Sky, the ever soft spoke but blunt woman , took her hand. "First of all...you are never stupid... alright?!!!! Secondly, men pull shit like this all the time when they don't know how to handle a woman with possible options....Trust me... I've dated enough idiots before your dad to know"....
That was able to get a laugh out of Malaysia even though she still felt the pain in her chest.."you're not gonna tell papa right?"...
Shy shook her head ."Girl no....I'm not trying to get Trevante blacklisted from Hollywood and your dad in Jail before he can even send you an apology text. This stays between me and you for now... but if your life is in any danger Malaysia, then I'm going to sing to your dad like a canary... okay?"
Malaysia understood and nodded...They leaned into each other for a moment with Malaysia resting her head on Sky's shoulder for a moment.. For Malaysia, the bond was new but she felt safe in it.. she understood that Skylar wasn't trying to replace her biological mom, she was just trying to be an ally and that was all she needed at this moment....
Skylar hugged her and left the penthouse because she had a meeting to attend...
Malaysia decided to take this time to reflect.. she was reflecting and also texting Ashley who was understandably mad on her behalf.. Ashley was the one who encouraged Malaysia to give Tre a chance but then again... men are a species that women would never understand.... And vice versa..
She couldn't stop scrolling through the comments of the video. She saw comments like:
"Damn!!! Tre and his new bae look fine asf!! I bet he's putting her through a mattress....."
"Shiiiiitt... we know they been liking each other's pics for a while now so it's only fair for them to come out publicly"....
That tore into her heart... She felt tears welling in her eyes but she had to be strong.... she didn't want her dad seeing her like that when he came back.... Although she could still feel her stomach twist.....
She stood there on the balcony, thinking about how people who were supposed to stay in her life ended up leaving... Her mom left... now, Tre left... he seemed to be comfortable with where he was....
But then she was interrupted by the sound of water.....Her brows furrowed... She looked to the left and on the balcony next to hers was Aldis Hodge...
The man stood there, his back looking as if God Himself took his sweet time to sculpt those muscles....
"Damn" she thought "this man is fine!"
He was watering his plants and had a glass of whiskey in his hand.
"You live here?" He asked, looking at her like he'd just seen someone unexpected... The building housed a lot of celebrities so she wondered why he would be shocked to see that she lived here with her dad... But then again... Celebrities didn't exactly announce where they lived.....
"You live here too?" She asked...
Before he could answer, Lady and Rex came to the balcony to play and chase after each other...
"Apparently so" he responded with a slight chuckle... "moved in a couple weeks ago and I didn't expect my neighbours to be the Jordans.. to be honest I thought the people next to me was some retired hedge fund guy or some boring tech bro"
She huffed out a surprised laugh, trying not to let out a lot...
"Color me shocked.." he continued, turning his hose off...
"Surprise!!! It's me... Malaysia Jordan.....Nice to meet you Mr Hodge"..
He scoffed "Girl please... call me Aldis...also... are you okay??? You look like somebody pissed in your cereal.... And you know what????? Screw whatever's on that phone....just look out there!"
And then he pointed to the city line...."the whole city's out there and you're in here stressing about something so insignificant..."
His tone was teasing but also not dismissive.... And she really appreciated that...
She smiled.... She turned her phone off as if to say "I'm done" and the she looked at him again..
"You know what I actually need?" She asked..
"Shoot" he responded..
"A night out.....Music.. drinks....maybe even a bad decision or two..." she responded, biting her lips...
He bit his lips too.... "You're asking me to party with you?"
"I mean.... Unless you've got some deep moral opposition to tequila shots....." she said again, smiling....
Aldis smiled and responded "Be ready in the next hour.... I'm driving"....
She smiled "you ain't gotta tell me twice".....
Malaysia stood infront of her mirror , applying her lipgloss and checking if her ass looked great in those lace tights... yep... Malaysia was going to go out with Aldis tonight and let her cheeks hang!!!
A soft knock came from the door.. Rex and Lady immediately ran up, sniffing the door.. trying to figure out who it was...
She rushed to the door, dismissing the pets
"Can y'all move please??? Don't be so nosy my loves" she said as she opened the door....
There he stood... Aldis looked really really handsome in his black tee with his gold chains on.... He really did clean up nice... He also wore a very very nice men's perfume that she loved..
"You smell nice" she said, and this was because of the liquid courage she had drank earlier.... Yep.. our girl took three shots from Mike's bar....
Aldis could tell too but that didn't turn him off.. if anything, it turned him on more than ever...
*****************************************
They got to the club and as they pulled up, paparazzi caught a flash of them as soon as that elevator opened...
"Shit!—" she whispered, holding onto Aldis as they made their way to the club entrance.
"They want pictures? Let them take it" he said, leading her deeper into the club...
"You sure?" She asked...
"Absolutely.. I got security waiting for us" he said, pushing the door open as if he had planned it all along...
The paparazzi came out rushing but his security team was faster....The Paprazzi were relentless
"Malaysia!!! Are you dating Aldis?!!! Are you both an item?"
"Malaysia!!! Is it true your dad has a new woman??? Skylar?!!"
Malaysia chuckles as Aldis and his security ushered her into the club....
Aldis chuckled under his breath "you're enjoying this a lot.. aren't you?"
She chuckled again.... ignoring his question...
Inside Lure: the club...
The bouncer waves them to come in.. After all, they were both on every VIP list in the city. The crowd started murmuring and whispering as they were ushered into the VIP section of the club.. Photos from earlier were already hitting the timeline.....
As soon as they sat down, Aldis leaned in close "you're trending already mamas"....
She glanced at her phone, smirking as the notifications blew up.
#MalaysiaandAldis was already climbing up...
"Perfect".....she said... "now dance with me before I change my mind.. Pretty boy"
Aldis chuckled again "Okay...Bossy"....
"Flattering" she corrects, already pulling him into the floor..
The beat dropped and they loved together, as if they were born to be in sync...His hands found her waist and her hands rested on his chest.. the crowd watched all they wanted....Tonight, she felt untouchable....
Summary: A battle of thirst traps with your man.
pairing: Aaron Pierre x reader.
warning: explicit.
He started it.
Miles apart, no chance of seeing each other soon, both of you buried in work, and the devil still decided to wake you up with a shower picture.
It wasn’t just that he was fresh from the shower; it was a very intentional picture. He knew exactly what he was doing.
Muscles clenched, towel wrapped once around his waist — once, so you could see the print even on soft — and water dripping off his skin like melted chocolate on a candle cake.
Lawd… you knew exactly how that tasted.
And just like that, your day was ruined.
You stared morosely during your meeting, your mind conjuring up images as you had flashback after flashback. The things you’d rather be doing to that body, the things the owner of that body could be doing to you.
The sounds the monster behind that towel squeezed out of you.
Ungodly sounds.
You shivered. Someone asked if the AC was too much. You gave a polite smile. “I need the AC.”
By lunch, you were a mess. Not a single thing done.
Angrily, you shoved off your chair and locked yourself in the bathroom.
Taking off your blazer, shirt, and bra, you crossed your arms under your boobs, making sure those brown nipples that drove him insane were very much prominent. You took the picture.
Send.
The kind of satisfaction that could only come from being wicked settled over you.
Putting your clothes back on, you picked up your phone and returned to work.
You’d barely sat down when your phone dinged.
“Wtf babe, I’m in a meeting!”
“Boy, fuck you. So was I.”
You cackled as you sent the reply.
You started to drop your phone, then picked it back up again. Spreading your legs wide, you took a clear picture of your panties sitting pretty between your folds, a small wet spot visible in the center.
With evil glee, spinning in your seat, you hit send.
Another ding.
“Baby… have mercy, you’re going to give me a hard-on.”
“You mean you’re not hard already?”
“Ohh fuck.”
You grinned.
Back to the bathroom. You shut the door and stepped out of your skirt and panties.
The first picture was a frontal shot — your shapely legs, shirt tails barely covering your crotch.
A warning shot. Send.
For the killer shot, you sat on the edge of the toilet seat, lifting both legs so you could get the perfect view of your glistening pussy. It was an uncomfortable position, but you had a point to prove.
You took a series of shots — one with your lips glistening, then with your fingers parting them, then with two fingers inserted, and finally, a close-up of your sticky fingers on your tongue.
By the time you were done, your chest was heaving from the effort. But the satisfaction of hitting send drowned out the ache from holding your legs up too long.
You got dressed and returned to your seat, humming happily.
Ding ding.
You opened his message and saw a picture.
A lower shot of him in a bathroom, belt unbuckled, fly undone, dick out, and his hand covered in cum.
He died a god. Came back a man.
But when he couldn't get it up, you went to a witch for help.
Now he’s feral, too big to fit, and he won’t stop fucking you.
🔞 Daniel Hall x Reader | The Sandman Smut
warning: Smut.
"I'm sorry," Daniel whispered as he pushed off you.
His shaft, once magnificent--majestic in both length and girth--slipped out of you in a limp caricature of its former glory.
It had been months since he came back from the dead, but the beast that once made you howl in ecstasy hadn’t returned with him.
He had chosen to stay in the waking world with you. A beautiful choice. A romantic one.
But one that did little to restore his strength.
"It's okay," you sighed, stroking his chest. "We'll try again tomorrow."
But he was already fast asleep.
You were rifling idly through the drawers in his office the next day when you found a small, creased parchment tucked beneath some papers.
A witch’s contact card.
Your brow shot up.
A few hours later, you sat in a dimly lit room, explaining your predicament to a middle-aged woman with silver locs and an amused gleam in her eye. She listened with a mix of empathy and intrigue as she stirred a shimmering brew in a copper kettle shaped like a raven’s beak.
Finally, she poured the potion into a dark bottle and handed it to you.
“Just a sip,” she said with a warm smile, “unless you’re feeling brave.”
But you were already tucking the bottle carefully into your purse, blowing her a distracted kiss on your way out.
You didn’t hear her final words trailing behind you.
Daniel had just finished dinner when you handed him the bottle.
“What is this?” he asked, eyeing the unmarked vial, then you.
“For your strength,” you said, shrugging innocently. “Bottoms up.”
He uncapped it and downed it in one go.
An evil grin spread across your face as you undid the belt of your silk wrap dress, revealing the sultry lingerie you’d picked out for the occasion.
Daniel’s gaze darkened as it traveled over your form. One snap of his fingers, and the delicate fabric you’d worn for him dissolved like mist.
His desire for you had never been in question.
Getting his man to function had been the problem.
Until now.
When he stood to undress, your eyes dropped to his groin-
and your jaw dropped with it.
It looked… angry.
Thick veins snaked along his shaft. It pulsed, growing by the second, engorged to a size bigger than the memory you’d been mourning.
Longer. Thicker. Streaked with veins.
When his fingers brushed your cheeks, your knees dropped in reverence.
"Welcome home, daddy," You whispered lustily before planting a kiss at the very tip.
Daniel's hand found your scalp, at first tenderly massaging it, then tightened boderline painfully as you slobbered all over him. His velvet thickness filled your mouth and stretched your jaw as you struggled to take as much of him as you could, slightly gagging in the process.
His deep groan reverberated through you, sending pulses of pleasure to your weeping core.
When he pulled you off him and lifted you, you wiped your tear-streaked face, wrapping an arm around his shoulder as you worked the kinks from your aching jaw.
He carried you into the bedroom, his bobbing dick leading the way.
Tossing you on the bed, he covered your body with his, slipping his tongue into your mouth as his hand slid down to your slit.
Little mewls escaped your parted lips. Your hips lifted as his thumb ground into your clit, drawing slow circles around your sensitive nub, while a single finger dipped into your sheath.
A few pumps more, and he added a second finger, stretching you this way and that, prepping for the stiff, fat snake he had between his legs.
You tore your lips from his, bucking up against him as you begged in sheer desperation:
“Daniel, please. I’m ready. Please, just put it in.”
His eyes--dark with lust--crinkled in amusement as he continued to pump his fingers into you, grunting in approval when you finally clenched around his digits with a small cry, liquid gushing out to coat your thighs.
“You first,” he moaned into your ear. “Always.”
Fisting himself, he rubbed his tip against your slit, coating it in your slick juice before pushing in.
Your legs fell further apart as your fingers dug into his shoulders.
He was big--much bigger than you remembered--and as aroused as you were, it hurt a little to take him.
He made short pumps, fucking you with half his length until you started to writhe against him, clawing his back in unabashed pleasure.
Grabbing your hips, he slammed the rest of his length into you with a short stab of pain, holding himself still until the pain passed and you started squeezing around him again.
His body engulfed yours, kissing your neck and murmuring filthy, nearly unintelligible words of encouragement into your ears, as he rained battering thrusts on your willing sex.
You were starting to sob when he ground against you, his tip lodged firmly against your womb.
He raised his head to look at you, wiping the tears from your face as he smiled.
“That’s my girl. You always take me.”
He held still as he kissed you, giving you time to come down from your high. Then his hands trailed down your thighs, lifting and wrapping your legs high around his waist.
You looped your arms around his shoulders, hanging on for the ride of your life.
He fed his girth into you, letting you feel every ridge, every thick vein lining him as he massaged your core. Then he picked up the pace as he started to fuck you.
Hard.
Punctuated.
Thrusts.
Each slam landed with a grunt, his arms wrapping around you to lock your body to his. His hips pounded down in relentless strokes; deep, unforgiving thrusts that had you gasping.
Your eyes rolled back, your mouth frozen in a silent scream.
Your third orgasm hit like a wave--starting deep in your core and rippling outward, flooding your body with warm, pulsing shocks.
He pushed in one last time and went still, groaning your name like it hurt as he spilled litres of hot cream deep inside you.
Your limbs slackened, and you fell back onto the mattress, utterly spent. He withdrew and padded off, returning with a damp towel to clean you up--wiping your folds with delicate care.
You sighed, eyes fluttering shut as you basked in the aftercare.
Until the rhythm of his wipes changed.
Slower. Lingering.
Your eyes flew open. You looked down at him at the exact moment he looked up--and held your gaze--as he lowered his head between your legs.
The first flick of his tongue sent an electric jolt straight to your brain, and you instinctively tried to pull away. You were sore, stretched from his new size.
But he held your waist, keeping you in place as he pressed kisses and licked softly at your oversensitive pith.
...until you felt yourself leaking again.
He grinned up at you, then flipped you over, lifting your butt like an offering.
You yelped when his palm landed on your ass- just as he slid back into your stretched, still-aching hole.
This time, his pace was steady. His hand reached under to rub your clit, circling until he felt you tremble. Then he gripped your hips so tight you were sure he’d leave bruises, pounding into you like a man possessed.
He jerked once, twice--then pulled out.
You tried to drop back down onto the bed, but his grip kept you suspended.
And for the first time, you panicked.
Looking back over your shoulder, you saw it-
He was still hard.
“D-Daniel?” Your voice shook. “I’m sore.”
His hands slid up to part your cheeks.
“I know...” he growled, voice tight and strained. “I can’t help it. I'm sorry."
Then he bent down... and kissed the tiny, puckered star.
“It’s a good thing you were built to take me,” he rasped, then spat into it, dipping a finger as he started to prep your third hole for his entry.
He added his tongue to his finger, making you moan helplessly into the pillow.
Bloody witch brew.
Far away in her cottage, the gray-haired witch cackled as she watched Daniel fuck you into a coma on her crystal ball.
"Humans," she murmured as she sipped her tea, "they never follow instructions."
tag: Someone asked for Jacob Anderson smut. I don't know their account so I couldn't tag them. I hope you're reading this and I hope you like it.
Read in dark mode on the site version here. Don't forget to change to desktop view if you're using a mobile. Thank you for reading!!🤗
Summary: After Regina’s confrontation, Andrea's discovery in Stone’s seemingly secret apartment threatens to shake their relationship from the inside out.
cw: smut
note: use #dr pierre to find all the chapters in one place. I haven't added this story to my masterlist for some reason. 🤦♀️
Andrea dropped her phone for what felt like the hundredth time that day.
A dull, persistent ache throbbed between her legs, and the boredom wasn’t helping. She had been moved from her once-busy station to one where all she did was take vitals and half-watch daytime TV.
Under normal circumstances, she would have welcomed the slower pace. But she knew exactly why she had been reassigned, and while it stung, it was better than losing her job entirely.
The real problem was that she couldn’t stop thinking about Stone. She wanted to see him, touch him, do things to him. Every time she tried to sneak out, another patient appeared, and she was forced to sit back down and record yet another blood pressure reading.
By the time her phone rang, she was one blink away from screaming.
Stoney
“Baaaby,” she whined into the receiver.
“What’s wrong?!”
The alarm in his voice made her wince and quickly tone it down. If he thought she was upset about the reassignment, he would storm into someone’s office and make things worse, and God knew they did not need that.
“Nothing,” she said lightly. “I just miss you. So, so much.”
His short laugh filtered through the speaker, and she couldn’t help smiling. God, she loved that sound.
“I miss you too, angel,” he said. “I’m coming to take you out for lunch.”
“Hurry.”
He chuckled again before hanging up.
Andrea dropped her phone and did a little happy dance in her chair, humming to herself until someone cleared their throat.
Loudly.
She looked up.
“I take it Stone hasn’t told you your relationship is over yet.”
Regina stood by her desk, the picture of elegance in pinstriped pants and a crisp white shirt, her lab coat adding an extra layer of polish. Her makeup was flawless; her smile, condescending and pitying all at once.
Andrea stared at her evenly. “My relationship is perfectly fine. Not that it’s any of your business.”
Regina arched one perfect brow and flicked what had to be a very expensive weave over her shoulder. She gave a low, throaty chuckle, and Andrea briefly wondered how flammable that hair was.
“I just think it’s pathetic,” Regina said sweetly, “to cling to a man whose family doesn’t want you...Andrea.”
“What’s pathetic,” Andrea shot back, “is throwing yourself at a man who didn’t even recognize you until you spelled out your full government name and a nickname. He hasn’t thought about you since you left to whatever godforsaken place you crawled back out of, and he definitely hasn’t since you made a fool of yourself in our home. Stone Pierre is mine, Regina. So I suggest you fix your crooked wig and go find yourself a man in a bar. Maybe someone desperate enough to look at you twice.”
The satisfaction that bloomed when Regina’s smug smile faltered, first to shock, then anger, was almost enough to make Andrea forget how hungry she had been.
A knock on the door cut through the tension.
Stone stepped inside, his gaze locking on Andrea without sparing Regina a glance. He held out his hand.
“Hey baby, you ready for lunch?”
Andrea slid her hand into his, rising from her seat with a grin. “I’m starving.”
They dropped their hands the moment they were out of Regina’s sight, sharing a small laugh.
“What did she want?” Stone asked as he opened the passenger side of his car.
“Nothing I couldn’t handle.” Andrea inspected her nails, then patted her hair with a smug smile. Stone chuckled as he closed the door and drove them to a nearby restaurant.
When their orders arrived, Stone’s brow shot up at her plate: chocolate cake and two scoops of ice cream in different flavors.
“Okay… I thought you said you were starving.”
“I am,” she replied between mouthfuls.
“That’s all you’re eating?” He pointed his spoon at her plate.
“Mmhmm. This is super filling. I’ll take some fries with me in case I get hungry again.”
He nodded, watching her shovel the treat into her mouth like it was the best thing she’d ever tasted.
When they left the restaurant, there was a look in her eyes he knew too well.
“Andy,” he began once they were back in his car, “are you okay?”
She reached out and traced the outline of the bulge he’d been sporting for a while. “Are you?” Her tone dipped low, sultry, making him suck in a sharp breath.
“Andy…” He grabbed her wrist, as if to stop her. But she squeezed him through his pants and a low growl escaped his throat.
“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” she murmured. “When I said I missed you, I meant it.”
He released her hand and checked his watch before shifting the car into gear.
“I think we still have about thirty minutes left,” he said calmly.
Andrea blinked, momentarily dazed. “Wait, where are you going?”
“I have a place nearby.” His tone was too casual, too sure, and her pulse jumped when he pulled into the parking lot of an apartment complex.
“Stone,” she hissed, eyes wide. “We have to get back to the hospital!”
He was already out of the car, rounding to her side to help her out. “It’s fine. Twenty minutes and we’re back. You’re in vitals, someone can cover. You signed out for lunch, didn’t you?”
She nodded, still half in disbelief as he guided her into the elevator. He keyed in a floor number and turned toward her, his eyes dark and unreadable.
“Then we’re good.”
Before she could respond, his mouth was on hers. The protest died instantly. Everything about the kiss was hungry, unrestrained, his hands, his breath, his quiet groan against her lips.
When the elevator dinged, they broke apart, both breathing hard.
He tugged her down the hall, fumbling for his keycard until the door clicked open.
Andrea barely had time to take in the room, dim lights, sleek furniture, and a polished pole gleaming in the center, before he was kissing her again. His urgency made her head spin, his touches both firm and adoring as he drew her closer to the bed.
Flipping her face first on the mattress, he pulled her scrub bottoms down over her hips to straddle her thighs, then he tugged her hip back till she was perfectly arched for him.
He slid his hands over the arc of her spine, reaching down to squeeze her breasts through her bra.
A pained moan escaped Andrea; her nipples ached slightly more than usual when he found and pinched them, but the pleasure overrode the pain, so she pushed them further into his palms.
He gave them one last squeeze and slid his hands back over her tummy to grab her thighs.
The next thing she felt was his face between her butt cheeks and she screamed, reaching behind to push his head away.
"Stone, you freaky frog!! Get out of there!"
He started to chuckle, laughing outright when she twirled her index finger at her temple in the universal sign for crazy.
He rose, one hand alternating between spanking and groping each cheek, their laughter melting into moans as he worked his belt and fly open with his free hand.
His fingers found her wet folds, tracing her slit as she widened her legs further, reaching back to grab her ample backside and open herself up for him.
He groaned at the sight.
"Insert here Dr Pierre, we don't have all day."
Lining himself up, he pushed into her slowly until he bottomed out.
Her hands fell away helplessly, her moans rising as he grabbed her fleshy hips and gave her exactly what she'd been craving all day.
The squelching sounds from her inundated sex had him throwing his head back as he bucked furiously into her, his large hands pulling her back to meet his snapping hips.
"Fuckkk Andy, how long have you been horny? So. fucking. wet."
He bent over her, one hand moving under her to find her clit and thumb it till she was gushing over his fingers, her high-pitched cry ringing in his ears. He held himself inside her as she came undone, her core trying its best to expel him as she quaked through her orgasm.
When she was done, he gave a couple more violent thrusts, went rigid, then cried out thickly as he emptied himself inside her.
Her legs gave out, and they both collapsed with Stone rolling off her to sprawl on his back.
"That was sleep-inducing sex, Andy."
She reached out blindly to smack him. "Get your ass up before you make me lose my job again. I'm starting to believe your dick is going to ruin my life."
His laughter rumbled in his chest as he hauled himself off the bed and disappeared into the bathroom. When he returned, he had a damp towel in hand. He wiped Andrea clean with gentle strokes, pressed a kiss to each of her butt cheeks, then helped her get decent again.
Andrea smoothed her hair and adjusted her bra, her gaze drifting to the large drawer beside the bed. Curiosity got the better of her. She pulled open the first one—just as Stone stepped back into the room after rinsing and hanging the towel to dry—and froze.
Inside were all kinds of sex toys: dildos of different sizes, little machines she couldn’t even name.
She slid it shut and opened the second. It overflowed with delicate lingerie in every color and style.
Heart quickening, she reached for the third drawer, only for Stone to catch her hand.
"Andy..."
She kept her eyes on the drawer. "What is this place, Stoney?" Her voice was barely a whisper. "You have a fuck pad? Do you bring women here to fuck, Stone?!"
This was getting a bit long, so I had to split it. I'll post the next chapter tomorrow and then move on to update other stories.
I love love love your writing and appreciate the variety of stories you give us. I would like to know if you plan on giving right in front of you (miles) an ending?
Hi!! I did a poll on what stories to continue and nobody voted for Right In Front of You. 🤣😂 But since you're asking, I'll continue even if you're the only one reading it. I had a clear story arc for it but dropped it because people didn't seem to like it. I'll try to finish up chapter two this week. It's been in my drafts, collecting dust. 🤣
I wish I knew your name so I can tag you when I post it.
✨Pairing✨: Milesxblack!reader (sorry idk his last name)
Summary🎭: You give a new meaning to “Teacher’s Pet”
🚨: 18+ NO MINORS!, language, angst, obsessive behavior, mention of abduction/hostage situation, mention of cheating, technical cheating, allusion to unprotected happy adult times (please be safe!)
A/N🎤: hello! This is my submission for @dionafterdark Aaron Pierre writing contest! Thanks for creating this and especially making it fall/halloween themed (which is my second fave time of year🥰!) Hope yall like what I came up with (and if I can, I’m gonna try to submit another piece but with my schedule that’s a humongous if lol)
Song inspo:
*DISCLAIMER!: I DO NOT CLAIM OWNERSHIP of pictures used as they were all found via Pinterest*
Boy, let me know if this is careless, I
Could be torn between two roads that I just can't decide
Which one is leading me to hell or paradise?
Baby, I can’t hurt you, sure, but I'm the jealous type
I'm the jealous type
“Trick or treat!”
Miles can’t help but smile at you standing there in your orange, green, and white cheerleader costume. Dark curls arranged in two small puffs on either side of the front of your head while the back was left loose with shiny coils stopping at the nape of your neck. The small, square Tupperware of pumpkin shaped sugar cookies adorned with orange sprinkles in your hand has him softly chuckling with a tilt to his head as he leans against the doorframe.
His muscular body nearly taking up the entire space has you will your eyes to focus on his behind his circular frames - not that it was any better from their hypnotizing bluish-green hue - and not the way his arms bulge and glisten.
“Hmm..pretty sure I’m supposed to be the one treat giving here.”
“True,” you shyly smile, “but with everything happening…I figured you could use a pick me up.”
It’s been close to a month since his estranged wife left and it still brings an uncomfortable pang to his gut. He shouldn’t be surprised seeing their problems seemed to grow every day the last couple years. Not to mention the tit-for-tat infidelity.
Arguments would last weeks leading to silent treatments and staying out later to avoid the other. Truthfully, it’s partially the reason he created the idea to offer art classes from his personal studio. A chance for escape along with the peace of doing what he loved.
“I’m sorry,” you state instantly washed with guilt noticing the shift in his aura. The hurt mixed with something unnamed glazing over his eyes. “I-I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”
Miles simply shrugs appearing to shake those thoughts away as the corner of his mouth curls in a soft smile. “You’re good. S’not like everyone didn’t know.”
He was practically the last to find out himself.
“‘We’re Done!’ Notable socialite and UAB Head of Board leaves artist husband.” He saw a copy of the handwritten note appear on his screen while still in bed before rushing in confusion to his studio’s front door ready to drive to her office for answers. There, in a sealed envelope, was said letter crooked on the hardwood floor from having been slid under the door.
He knew a divorce was inevitable, but to be so heartless - and calculated - by leaving like that? Then again, what more should he ask for from the new corporate clone that used to be the woman he loved?
“Still I should probably go so you can get back to work,” you state nodding towards the blank canvas placed on the easel by the wall of windows. Various colors and brushes placed on a small stand beside it.
“You’re not interrupting. That’s been there for about a week now,” he replies stepping aside for you to enter before locking the door behind you. “A friend of a friend wants a custom piece for his wife representing their love and I can’t even think where to start.”
As soon as the Tupperware is in his hands, he’s removing the lid to grab the first cookie he sees. Just like the ones you’ve brought to meetings before, the soft treat melts on his tongue making a pleasant, low moan vibrate his broad chest. It’s sweetness just the right amount that he could eat all of them tonight if he’s not careful. “And why you don’t have your own bakery is beyond me.”
You softly giggle playfully rolling your deep brown eyes, “And as I’ve said before, then I won’t like doing it anymore. Plus running a business is a lot of work- and stop avoiding talking about your art.”
Miles can only briefly hold up his hands in surrender with a grin on his full lips. “Ya got me.”
“Think you’re blocked? Creatively that is..”
He sighs sitting on the dark leather, L-shaped couch, “I dunno…just hard to think of love right now.”
You nod striding over to sit beside him. With his legs spread - and their overall thickness - your knee can’t help but touch his. “Then instead of thinking from experience, maybe think of what you’d want it to be. Like you tell us, it’s not always about painting what you feel but how you’d like to feel.”
A warmth encases his heart appreciating you remembering. Then again you always paid attention during sessions truly interested in what he said. Others were interested too, but coming from you it felt…different. Like if you were the only one to ever show up to any of his classes, he wouldn’t mind. “And when it comes to love, what would you like to feel?,” he asks. His gaze burning into your soul makes your stomach pleasantly flip this way and that.
“Hmm…obviously happy, giddy, like I’m the only woman he can love,” you grin. “Overall though…safe. Not just protected physically, but mentally. Like after already being on edge all day, the moment I see him that goes away and I know I’m okay you know?”
Like how he once was with Celine.
In the beginning, it felt like them against the world but neither was scared having the other in their corner. It’s also how he was starting to feel with you as of late. He had friends for years that didn’t care for him the way you did - and he’d only known you for a few months. You made him feel like a priority after feeling forgotten and ignored for so long by his wife. Even in moments he failed to prioritize himself.
“Of course I’d hope I’m the same for him too. Whoever he’ll be.”
“That’s beautiful,” he admits feeling that familiar ache he’d been battling for a while. It’s not as strong this time though, with a sense of optimism growing that he might be able to find that peace you described for himself one day. “I hope you find that and more. You deserve it.”
“Thanks,” you smile feeling warmth spread along your cheeks, “you deserve it too Miles.”
“Tuh, I dunno,” he chuckles rubbing the back of his neck. “I wasn’t the perfect husband, and more than a few people would agree.”
“Who is though? And for you to admit it means you’ve grown.” Your hand on his thigh - thumb gently swiping back and forth along his jeans - shamefully makes his touch starved being want more. More of your hands on him. More of your supportive words. More of that adoring gleam from your eyes that made him feel like he was the only man in the world.
More of you.
“Everyone deserves to feel loved. And when it finds you, I hope you take it rather than be afraid and run from it. Every woman isn’t Celine Miles.”
There’s a battle in his head between what’s right and wrong. It’s wrong of him to want you in every way - specifically right here on this couch making you scream loud enough that those passing will either worry or blush - still being a married man.
But Celine made it clear she was done. And the subtle shift of your body as you press your thighs together, paired with the flick of your eyes to his full lips then back up to his eyes, gives him all the permission he needs. He doesn’t have to lean in too far with you meeting him halfway, seemingly with no hesitation.
His hand finds the side of your neck as careful moving lips become more eager and needy. Your soft gasp as he slides you to his lap leaves enough of a gap his tongue easily slides in making the already present wet spot on your lace panties grow.
Miles’ other hand gripping your hip reminds him you’re in your costume probably long due to be at some party or bar with your friends. Pausing his assault on your peach flavored lips, he smirks at the hint of a furrow to your brow and slight pout clearly wanting more.
“I don’t wanna keep you from your plans,” he says toying with the hem of your skirt.
“I’m exactly where I wanna be.” Pressing a chaste kiss to his jaw before letting your mouth trail a path to the vein on his neck, you slowly let your hands wander down his sturdy chest gauging his reaction as you neared the top of his jeans. When both his large hands move to your ass cheeks, gently squeezing before bringing you over the rising tent in his pants you have your answer.
A surprise moan escapes you when he spreads your cheeks, letting the cold air breeze along your most intimate region as his middle fingertip traces along the crotch of your panties from back to front; surely noticing your arousal nearly dripping from the thin material.
“You been like this the whole time?,” he asks in that deeply sensual voice you’ve had in your head from the moment you first heard it. Gently nodding, you lean back just enough to lift your skirt allowing him full access to view and touch as he pleased. His tongue peeks to wet his lower lip shifting your panties to the side before letting his thumb press against your throbbing clit and tracing down your slit causing you to squirm from needing more.
“Can you help me with it? Please?”
-
There was no use in fighting anymore.
For weeks Celine scoured every corner of the dimly lit, mildewed, basement-like space she was forced to call home and found nothing. No loose bricks from the walls, no cracks deep enough to possibly sneak a note outside. The windows were out of reach without some ladder or stool.
All she could do was lie on the dingy mattress - stains from God knows where and springs poking her at every turn - drifting in and out of sleep. Her cries sometimes exhausting her to the point she didn’t care to move.
The creak of the main door opening behind her followed by steps descending stairs immediately has her tense. Hairs on her arms standing at attention as the knot in her back tightens.
She turns to sit up hearing keys jingling against the dark door to her room. It’s slightly uncomfortable due to the shackle on her ankle chaining her to the floor. In her first few days here, she yanked and pulled until the metal dug into her skin causing cuts that have long since scarred and scabbed.
She was truly trapped with no chance of escape. Her only options being by the miraculous mercy of her captor - that would never happen though - or by her own hands having had enough of this world and ready for the next.
“Sorry I’m late, lost track of time.”
A plastic, grocery bag drops by her feet, as usual, containing two wrapped sandwiches, three full bottles of water, and random bags of chips. As they walk away, she can’t help but notice the familiar scent of tobacco and applewood wafting in the air. It makes her look up to see the oversized, hunter green hoodie with a specific paint stain she knew only belonged to one person.
“T-That’s who put you up to this?,” Celine asks carefully standing on weak legs. Her captor simply stood with back turned and an outstretched hand on the door handle. “Or who you’re working for?”
“I work alone.”
“Figures,” she scoffs to herself. “He knew he’d get nothing from me in a divorce so he does this. After I practically made him the man he is.”
“The only thing you made, was a good man become a pawn in a scheme created by your fucked up daddy issues. Disrespectfully, you didn’t have the man’s attention then and you’ll probably never get it.”
Celine’s nostrils flare showing her growing irritation. “Mile’s not as innocent as he seems.”
“Still, he’s a brilliant artist and caring person who deserves someone who truly loves him for him. Not for some game to get under someone’s skin.”
It all clicks for Celine then. The demand for the letter. Keeping her hidden here for all this time. “You’re in love with him. You did all this..to get to him.”
“I already ‘got’ to him by being in his class,” you reveal stepping forward by only a few steps. “But yes, having you out the picture for good was the plan.”
“Look, you can have him alright? God knows I don’t want anything to do with that man anymore. Just let me go,” Celine pleads with hands pressed together in front of her chest as if in prayer. “They’ll start looking for me soon if they haven’t started already and that’ll mess up everything for you. You don’t want that right?”
You nod seemingly ruminating over her words with brows furrowed in faux concern before returning to your plain expression. “Your job replaced you three days after you basically resigned in that letter announcing you were going to ‘truly live for you’. Your parents haven’t tried looking since you’re known for doing whatever you want whenever and simply said ‘we wish her the best’ when asked about it by a random journalist. And seeing that your husband’s cum is dripping down my thigh, I doubt he’s planning on searching anytime soon either.”
Her eyes glisten before tears drip down her cheeks. This was really it. She’d never leave this room and probably never be found. “Then why not kill me already? You have Miles.”
“Oh that’ll come soon enough,” you reply striding the few steps towards the door, “on my time though. But don’t worry, it’ll be something fit for a…special woman such as yourself.”
-
Although slightly disappointed waking up to cold sheets and an empty space at his side, he finally felt that long awaited artistic itch to create. It was enough to trace a few lines here and there with his pencil, attempting the beginnings of what appeared to be an abstract piece, but it still wasn’t it. Frustrated, he ripped page after page before settling on his current one. It was far from perfect - by his standards - but the beginning of something he felt could grow into his ultimate vision.
The tap-like knocks at his studio’s metal door gives him a much needed break from the sketch pad in front of him. Sock covered feet striding along the hardwood floor, he smiles finding you on the other side with a carrier holding two coffees in one hand and a paper bag in the other. “Good Morning.”
“Morning,” you shyly smile making him feel a lightness in his chest he hadn’t felt since he was a teen. “Black with light cream..and two sugars right?”
Miles softly chuckles to himself taking the carrier from your hand, “Thank you. If that came from anyone else, I’d be concerned.”
The bit of sleep still present in his voice makes your stomach flutter as you close the door behind you. “I just try to remember the little things.”
Passing the coffee table to join him in the kitchen, you notice the sketch pad with marks and shades along with the crumpled, discarded pages. “You’re drawing?”
“Trying to,” he answers leaning against the marble counter of the small island. “I woke up with an idea but it’s nowhere near done.”
“Still, it’s a good sign you’re inspired again!”
Miles humbly shrugs as he sips from his paper cup letting the rising sun practically shine a spotlight on every vein and muscle in his bare upper body. As you both stand there, he finally notices his sweatshirt hanging like a dress over your smooth legs. Following his eyes you can tell he’s thinking about it, which makes you nervous of his reaction.
“I just threw it on to go get coffee. Didn’t really wanna deal with the awkward stares in my cos-oh!,”
His hand gently pulling you close by the hoodie’s front pocket has a surprised gasp leaving your pinky nude lips. You can feel how the sight affects him before looking up to see his eyes now appearing a shade darker. Flattery and dominance clouding his gaze as if fighting for control.
“You’re good. Wear it better than I ever could.”
You can’t help but giggle like a school girl at that. “Well thank you. And as for last night, I just want you to know I understand if this is only a one time thing. You’re going through a lot right now with your wife and-,”
“And I’m a grown man who knows himself and what he wants,” he interrupts letting his other hand rest on the side of your neck while his thumb traces along your bottom lip. “Thank you for being considerate though.”
Closing the small gap between you, your lips meet his taking in their coffee and mint remnants with every swipe. “You know I’m always there for you Miles.”
-
I know it’s not completely Halloween themed, but I tried to make this a thriller of sorts that hopefully yall like! Also I haven’t watched the morning show so this might not be canon as far as his personality but also it’s fiction so yea lol. Have a fun and safe Halloween for those going out and a special thank you and shout out to @dionafterdark for coming up with this fun challenge☺️!
Summary: Stone and Andrea enter another phase of their relationship, even as their enemies grow.
Stone exhaled heavily, stretching his arms towards his mother as he stepped forward to pull her into a warm embrace.
"I'm afraid I’ll have to rescind my offer of breakfast, Mom. I’ve got a patient to attend to—you know how it is with doctors and our oaths." His smile reached his eyes, even as Monica glared up at him.
Grudgingly, she returned his hug. "Fine. But we have dinner with the Joneses on Friday evening, and I expect you to be there."
He nodded solemnly. "No problem, ma. Take care on your way home." He gave her a gentle squeeze before letting go.
She picked up her bag and headed toward the door, Regina following behind.
"Uh, Regina?" Stone reached out and caught her arm lightly, stopping her before she stepped outside. "I just wanted to apologize. I don’t know what my mom’s up to, but you don’t deserve to be caught in anyone’s game. I hope you enjoy your holiday."
Regina chuckled softly, stepping a little closer to him. "I think you’re misunderstanding, Stoney. I’m not a pawn—and this isn’t your mother’s game. I like you. I’ve liked you for a very long time. You’re the reason I went to medical school. And now I’m back… for good."
His throat tightened. “Regina…”
She cut him off, her eyes glinting with the confidence of a woman who has never been turned down. "I always get what I want, Stoney. And now... all I want is you."
She smiled sweetly, tucking back her hair behind her ear. "Say hi to your ex-girlfriend for me."
Then she turned on her heel and was gone.
Stone stood stunned for a few seconds, his mouth agape, before shaking his head and quietly shutting the door. When he turned back, Andrea was watching him.
He crossed the room in quick strides and pulled her into his arms, even as she lifted her hands to push him away.
“Andy… baby. Look at me.” His voice was low, almost pleading. He tried to meet her eyes, but she turned her face, trying to hide her pain. “I don’t know what all that craziness was about, but it has nothing to do with me. You’re where I want to be. Right here. With you.”
Andrea sniffed, cursing herself for the tears she couldn’t hold back. “Your mother seems to want her for you as well.”
“My mother doesn’t get to choose who I love.”
Andrea stilled in his arms. “Love?”
He hesitated, then let out a breath. “Yes,” he said quietly. “I love you, Andy. I think I have since that first day in the ER. I just—” He gave a short, helpless laugh. “I didn’t know how to say it without screwing it up.”
Andrea wiped her nose on his shirt. “Well, what took you so long to try?”
Stone smiled, a little sheepishly. “You know me. I do better showing stuff than saying it. I got you some crackers and Sprite, chips, olives—half the supermarket’s in the kitchen. Let’s get something in you, then we’ll grab your stuff.”
Andrea nodded. “You need to change that shirt, though.”
The face he made at her finally drew a laugh, the last of her worry melting away with it.
Stone dropped Andrea in front of the hospital, then pulled away to find a parking spot. Meetings swallowed the rest of his morning, and by lunch, he couldn't wait to see her.
He walked to her station to take her out to go eat and noticed a chubby nurse at her desk, avoiding eye contact.
“Hello. Where is Andrea?” Stone asked.
The nurse glanced up briefly, then back at her screen. “She is not here anymore. She was moved to the nurses’ station downstairs.”
Stone’s jaw tightened. “Who authorized that move? Never mind.” He strode toward Chester’s office and pushed the door open without knocking.
Chester looked up with a smug grin. “Good afternoon, Doctor Pierre. To what do I owe this rare honor?”
Stone planted both hands on the desk, knuckles white. “Where is she?”
Chester feigned innocence. “Who?”
“You know who. Andrea. I was told she was moved.”
“Isn’t that the nursing supervisor’s job?” Chester replied, pleasantly evasive.
“You are the Director of Nursing, Chester. You made that call.”
“It seemed inappropriate to leave her at that station after the incident,” Chester said, folding his hands. “We needed to reduce risk.”
Stone shoved forward until his face was inches from Chester’s. Anger hummed through him. “Did you not understand what happened in that conference room? I can bury you.”
Chester did not flinch. “The janitor in that unfortunate video has been sacked, Stoney.”
Stone’s head snapped back. “You fired her?”
“Me?” Chester spread his hands. “I do not have that authority. HR handled it after I reported the indiscretion. You underestimate me, Stone. Your father does, too. I may not be able to touch him, but you are a different matter. You are spoiled and entitled, a man used to things bending to his will.”
He rose slowly, meeting Stone eye to eye despite the height difference. “I will crush you, Stone Pierre. Do you know how many enemies you made in that conference room? This is only the beginning.”
Chester sat down again and turned back to his computer. “If there is nothing else, I have important matters to attend to.”
Stone moved toward the door, stunned. He and Chester have never liked each other, but he was only starting to understand how deep the man's hatred went.
Chester called after him, voice even. “Don’t worry. One of the doctors in that area was recommended by your father and started this morning.”
Stone glanced over his shoulder in time to see the malicious smile grow. “Dr. Regina Jones will take good care of your little girlfriend.”
You’d both discovered it by accident. After an argument, you were huffing and puffing in a corner, curled up on your favorite couch, when he approached you.
"I'm sorry."
You ignored him. Your eyes stayed glued to your phone screen. One look at those puppy eyes and you’d fold like a broken lawn chair. He knew it. You knew it too. So you stared hard, pretending to scroll even though you weren’t seeing anything.
He sank to the floor and wrapped his large hands around your ankles, resting his chin on your knees.
"I said I was sorry..." His half-whine, half-growl earned him a glance from you. Big mistake.
He smiled, soft, dimpled, unfairly charming, and you nearly broke. Nearly.
"I heard you," you muttered, turning back to your phone.
"You forgive me?" He nipped lightly at your knee.
"Not even close," you said, trying for nonchalance. "You just apologized. You have to give me time to forgive you."
He sighed dramatically, and you had to bite your lip to keep a smile from slipping. "Fair enough."
A beat of silence passed before he spoke again, quieter this time. "Is there anything I can do to... hasten the process?"
You didn’t lift your head. "Nope."
His fingers began tracing slow, teasing circles up your calves. The air shifted.
"Can I kiss you... there?"
Your finger stopped mid-scroll, and you looked down at him. He had his eyes on you, large pleading pools of blue, even as his fingers kneaded your calves.
"No."
"Please?"
It came out even softer this time, almost a whimper, like he was begging for air.
You could feel your panties fast soaking through. You clenched your thighs.
He leaned in, his lips lightly brushing your knee. "You’re shaking," he murmured. "Does that mean no, or that you’re thinking about it?"
You didn’t answer. You couldn’t deny the way your body quivered even as you tried to act tough.
The warmth of his hands, the way his breath ghosted against your skin, the way his eyes worshipped you... It was all too much.
"Just one," he whispered. "You can tell me to stop."
Your phone dimmed in your hand, completely forgotten. The ruse was up.
When his lips pressed into the inside of your knee, a small mewl escaped you.
He caught it, of course he did, and smiled against your skin.
"See?" he murmured. "You like when I’m sorry."
You tried to scoff, but it came out more like a breath. "You think this means you're forgiven?"
"No," he said, looking up at you. "It means you're giving me a chance to earn it."
His forehead rested against your thigh for a heartbeat, his eyes on the prize, waiting for your permission.
The air between you was so thick, you had to part your lips to breathe.
You sank back and lifted your hips in invitation, your voice barely a whisper. "Fine. One kiss."
Clark’s face broke out in a grin, like you just granted him a dying wish. "I’ll make it count."
And he did.
After that day, he found that all it ever took to get you wet and ready for him was one word, in his neediest voice...
Summary: It's 93 degrees, your ac is broken, and the human embodiment of the sun is trying to smother you in your sleep.
Wc: 900-ish
Tags: Fluff, suggestive but nothing happens, established relationship, domesticity, short n sweet, mentions of nudity but nothing descriptive, gn!reader, no use of y/n
A/n: Something cute before I crack my knuckles and start working on Whumptober
You can feel the sweat dripping off of you, rolling down your face and neck, onto your pillow. Wiping it away, you fan yourself with your hand in a futile attempt to cool down. Tilting your head to the side takes effort, the tackiness of your skin sticking to your sheets.
An unprecedented heatwave had struck Metropolis, and even in the dead of night it was unrelenting. Your dinky little window unit had kicked the bucket earlier that evening, and even with the power of Youtube tutorials and the world’s cheapest tool kit, you and Clark couldn’t get it running. Groaning, you kick off your duvet cover, baring your legs to the humid air of your room in a last ditch effort. A poor effort.
Clark shifts on the mattress, and you love him. Truly, you do. Almost everything about him actually. His kindness, his cute dimples, the fact that he can make eggs really well but almost always burns the toast. That he always had fresh flowers for you on the table every Sunday. But he ran warm. Super warm. It was great during the winter- but you felt like you were about to melt just by being next to him.
Then he throws his arm around you, unconsciously pulling you closer.
“Nope,” You grunt, grabbing his arm and attempting to lift it off of you. Both of you are sticky with sweat, and you swear you can feel your skin beginning to fuse together, “Love you, but nope.”
“Huh…?” You feel bad for waking him up, you do. Not bad enough though. Rolling out of bed, your feet hit the hardwood floor. “ ‘at’s wrong? The house on fire or s’mthn?” Clark stirs awake, hand brushing through his hair as the other props him up. You ignore him, focusing instead on ridding yourself of the minimal clothes you had on.
“Don’t play, you’d know if it were on fire- probably before it even caught fire.” Your tank top, soaked with sweat, was flung into the hamper, underwear quickly following. That seems to wake Clark up.
He reaches for his bedside, turning on the small reading lamp, eyes following you as you cross the room. “Where ‘re you going?”
“To take a cold shower. I feel like I’m about to burst into flames and die,” You sigh dramatically, gesturing to the small window unit that remained frustratingly off. “I know you’re convinced you can fix that thing, but tomorrow we’re going out and buying a new one.”
Clark huffs, sitting up fully, running a hand down his damp face. He can’t even front anymore- it is getting a little warm, “I can totally fix her- Betsy just needs a little TLC-”
“Oh so you’ve named her now?” You quirk a brow, a small laugh escaping you as you pass by Clark’s side of the bed. A large hand shoots out to grab your arm, gently pulling you away from the promise of a cold shower, and towards the furnace you share a bed with. Muffling a noise of surprise, Clark pulls you into his grasp and rolls over quickly, trapping you at his side. “Kent- I’m serious,” You struggle to pull yourself from his hug, “I’ll scream.”
Clark presses his nose to the top of your head. Would it be weird to say he liked the smell of your sweat? “I could take us to the fortress instead, ‘lot cooler than a shower-”
“Nooooo- then I’d have to get dressed, and I know you’d hate that.” Clark hums in agreement, and you can feel it against your head, sending a shiver down your spine. His hands paw at you in a way you might’ve considered any other night, but instead you break free, rolling away to your nearly cool side of the bed, “Too hot for sex. Nope.”
He smacks his lips in a sigh, but his dopey little smile shows he’s not frustrated in the slightest. Coy, you bring your finger to your mouth, like you’re considering something, before reaching a verdict. “You may have my hand.” As if doing him a great favor, you stretch your arm out, fingers opening and closing quickly against the sheets. “To hold. Obviously.”
“Obviously.” Clark snickers, face scrunched up, dimples on full display- as if it wasn’t your greatest weakness. He takes your hand, squeezing it twice. “A little sweaty, huh?”
“I can go take that shower any time-”
“I think you’re forgetting you’ve got Superman in your bed,” He lets out a deep laugh and purses his lips, as if getting ready to whistle. Instead, a beautifully cold breeze brushes against your cheeks, tickling against your lashes, and cooling the sweat that beaded down your temples. The flush on your face from the heat subsides, an almost glacial feeling nipping at you.
"Again, please," You practically beg. It almost hurts to smile- but thank fuck, because this was the best you’d felt all evening. Had you feeling so good you leaned across the cotton sheets for a little reward. Lips brushing against your boyfriends so gently that it was almost chaste. “Thanks for savin’ me, Superman,” you mumbled, going in for one more.
Clark pushes forward, nose brushing up against yours, nudging you into the pillow, if only slightly. “All in a day's work.” He smiles into it, like he was exactly where he wanted to be, pressing you up against the pillows of your bed. Again- if it were any other night.
You pressed the little nub eagerly and Clark hissed, jerking clear off the bed.
You released him immediately, wide-eyed, terrified you’d hurt him.
He caught your hand and kissed your wrist. “No… it’s fine, darling. Just—don’t touch that until we’re done with the lesson, okay?”
A look he knew too well entered your eyes and he groaned. “Seriously. Don’t touch it or the lesson’s over. That’s my cum button.”
The way his eyes dipped when he said cum nearly made you laugh, but curiosity kept you quiet.
“So,” you licked your lips, settling on your knees. The movement made your breasts bounce, and his eyes followed like a man under a spell. “If I want to make you cum, all I have to do is touch that? It looks like a Jacob’s ladder.”
He nodded dumbly, gaze still glued to your chest. “Uh huh. I don’t know what that is but… yeah.”
You tilted your head. “So you can’t cum any other way?”
He shrugged, already leaning in to kiss your breasts. “Not that I know of.”
You pushed him back with a laugh at his whine. “Easy, farm boy. Since we started dating all you’ve done is make me cum. Tonight is about you. Teach me how to work that alien dick.”
His ears turned red. “You’re so crude.”
You grinned. “You love it.” Rubbing your palms together, you reached for the lube. “Let’s test this machine.”
He leaned back against the headboard, eyes glazed over from watching you. The tiny scrap of fabric between your legs and socks on your feet were the only things you wore.
You dribbled lube along his shaft, thick, heavy, already bobbing with anticipation, and wrapped your hands around him. He was nearly the length of your forearm, with angry-looking veins and ridges adding to his intimidating look.
When you squeezed his head too hard, he hissed again.
“What? Are you going to cum from that too?”
He stroked your arm gently. “Baby… just be careful with that, okay?”
He looked so pitiful you only nodded, softening your touch.
This time you stroked slowly, watching his head fall back as a low moan left him.
“You like that?” you teased.
He nodded, lips parted. You sped up a little, drawing on your massage lessons, and he went silent. His chest rose and fell in quick bursts.
When you looked up, his eyes were nearly shut, lips slack, drool glinting on his jaw.
“Clark?!”
He jerked awake. “Huh?”
“What’s wrong? You looked like you passed out.”
He grabbed your hands and guided them back. “You feel too good. It’s not like this when I do it… keep going.”
Pride swelled in your chest. Not bad for your first time with his dick. Bold now, you leaned down and licked his swollen tip, tracing his slit with your tongue.
He shuddered violently, his hands falling away. “You’re going to kill me,” he whispered.
You arched a brow and sucked his head into your mouth.
He shouted, instinctively grabbing your head. Then he changed his mind mid-motion and thrust up into your mouth instead, groaning when you gagged around him.
You pulled off with a wet pop, wiping your lips, then returned to stroking. He was flushed and trembling, veins throbbing along his shaft, nubs ridging his length.
It reminded you of a massager, the kind that could melt knots from deep inside. The thought of what it might do to your untouched walls made your panties sticky.
You stood suddenly. His worried eyes followed you until your panties hit the bed.
“Baby, what are y—”
“I’m ready,” you cut him off, climbing astride him. “Let’s see what that monster can really do.”
Summary: Stone and Andrea’s happiness should feel secure after two blissful weeks together... But when an unexpected visitor appears, Andrea realizes their biggest challenge might not come from enemies on the outside, but from family within.
Previous
Beautiful notes woke Andrea on Sunday morning. The curtains were drawn in Stone's penthouse, filling the room with sunshine and warmth.
She stretched in bed, indulging in the rare treat of hearing Stone Pierre play. His love for classical music was something they both shared, though few people knew it. To hear him play for her alone sent the butterflies in her stomach fluttering.
They must have fluttered too hard, because moments later she was hunched over the toilet. After rinsing her mouth, she pulled on a shift dress and wandered into the living area in search of her pianist.
Stone smiled at the sound of her soft footsteps. She was trying to sneak up on him. He let her think she had.
His exaggerated shock when she wrapped her arms around him gave him away.
"You heard me, didn't you?" she whispered, nipping at his earlobe.
He shivered in her touch, which made her smile. She affected him so easily.
"Stealth is not your strength."
She gasped and smacked his shoulder. "Are you saying I’m heavy?"
He caught her wrist and tugged her into his lap, music forgotten. Burying his face in her neck, he inhaled deeply, his hands roaming the lines of her body. "You’re perfect."
She was already melting in his arms, her playful anger dissolving like mist. "You’re too good with words." She kissed him full on the lips. "I have to go."
Stone blinked, raising a brow. "Go where?"
Andrea laughed. "Uhmm, my house? I don’t live here."
He stared at her like she’d just told him the sky wasn’t blue. "Really?"
She laughed harder, shoving at his face playfully. "Stop it. These two weeks have been heavenly. But I’m resuming work tomorrow. I need to prepare."
Stone tightened his arms around her waist. "You can go from here."
Andrea’s smile faltered at the seriousness in his tone. "Wh–what are you saying?"
His gaze didn’t waver. "I’m asking you to live with me. These two weeks gave me a glimpse of what life with you would be like, and I want more. Stay."
Her jaw dropped. Stone leaned in, his voice dropping to that sultry register that turned her brain to mush. "Live with me, Andrea. Please?"
Their lips were almost touching when her stomach growled. She pulled back, embarrassed, as he chuckled and set her down gently.
"I made breakfast," he said, taking her hand and leading her toward the kitchen.
A wave of scents hit her, making her dizzy. She stopped short.
"I think I have a stomach bug. I've been queasy. I don't think I can eat that, sorry."
His palm was on her forehead in an instant. "When did this start? Fever? Dizziness?" He turned as if to fetch the first aid kit.
Andrea tugged him back, laughing softly. "I'm fine, doctor. I just need something light. Maybe Sprite."
He made a face. "Soda?"
"Please don't go all health freak on me. Right now that's the only thing I can keep down."
He sighed in defeat. "Fine, but I don't keep poison in my house. I'll grab some for you."
She rose on tiptoes and kissed his cheek. "I knew there was a reason I love you."
The words slipped out before she could stop them. His body went rigid.
They had been together nearly a year, but neither had said it. She knew she was in love with him, but she had been waiting for him to say it first.
A bead of sweat formed on her brow. She adjusted her bonnet and wiped at imaginary drool on her jaw, pretending nothing had happened.
Stone opened his mouth like he wanted to speak, then closed it again. Without another word he grabbed his jacket and left.
Andrea stood in the silence, her heart thudding. She had given voice to her feelings, and whether he returned them or not, they were hers.
She curled up on her favorite couch with a reality show, still giddy with the mix of joy and shame, when the front door opened.
"Did you forget something?" she called out.
"And who might you be?"
Andrea turned. An elegantly dressed woman in her late fifties stood by the door. Her complexion was warm caramel, her cheekbones and lips an exact match to Stone's. Andrea didn't need an introduction.
Monica Pierre looked at the barely clad young woman in her son's apartment. Stone had never mentioned a girlfriend. Yet she knew her son was too disciplined to entertain a casual fling.
Her eyes narrowed. "Who are you?"
Andrea swallowed. "I'm Andrea. Stone is my boyfriend."
"Boyfriend?"
The word came from the younger woman at Monica's side. Andrea hadn't even noticed her until that moment, too shocked by the mother standing in the doorway.
Monica silenced the other woman with a glance before addressing Andrea again. "Where is my son?"
"He stepped out. He'll be back soon."
"Good." Monica gestured for the younger woman to sit, then took a seat herself.
Andrea hovered, unsure what to do. "Can I get you something to drink?"
The younger woman scoffed, but Monica replied calmly. "This is my son's home. I don't need anyone to offer me anything. But thank you for asking. You have good manners."
Andrea nodded slowly and slipped back to the bedroom to put on clothes, her mind racing.
Stone entered his apartment, arms loaded with bags—every possible option for Andrea’s unsettled stomach.
The sight of his mother froze him mid-step.
“Mom?”
Monica rose with effortless grace, hugging her son before eyeing the bags. He kissed her cheek quickly and disappeared into the kitchen to unload. When he returned, she was studying him with an expression he couldn’t place.
He laughed uneasily. “What?”
“There’s something different about you,” she said at last, before turning toward the young woman at her side. A bright smile lifted her lips. “You remember Regina?”
Regina offered her hand. Stone shook it politely, firm and brief, before glancing back at his mother. “Who is she?”
“Stoney? It’s me.” Regina’s voice held a touch of disbelief. “Regina Jones. Reggie?”
Recognition lit his eyes. “Little Reggie? The chubby girl with the missing tooth?”
She gave a rueful smile. “She grew up.”
And she had. The awkward girl he remembered had returned as a statuesque beauty, tall, elegant, curves and legs that drew the eye.
Stone’s grin softened. “Well, we have a lot to catch up on. Let’s do that over breakfast. I made a spread for my girlfriend, but she wasn’t up for it.” He turned toward the bedroom, missing the flicker of disappointment across Regina’s face. “Have you met her yet?”
Monica’s voice cut through the air. “Stone.”
He paused. Her tone was cool, commanding.
“Can we have this moment between us as family?” she said smoothly. “She can join us… after.”
Stone’s brows furrowed. “What are you saying?”
Monica’s gaze pinned him. “I do not know who that woman is. Until I am properly and formally introduced, I will not sit and break bread with her as though she were family.”
His mouth tightened. “And Regina here—she’s family?”
Monica’s smile raised the hairs on his nape. “Soon.”
The word hung in the air.
From the bedroom doorway, Andrea froze. She had been ready to pop out the moment she heard Stone’s voice, but the sight of him with the young woman rooted her to the spot.
Side by side, they looked like they belonged together. Like she fit into his world in a way Andrea suddenly wasn’t sure she did.
Her stomach clenched hard, and it had nothing to do with hunger. She was too worldly not to understand what was happening.
Her chest tightened, her vision blurred. She spun away before anyone could notice and stumbled into the bathroom, heaving into the toilet for the second time that morning.
Taglist.
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