the poetic barbie.

black. twenties. to create freely and authentically. writeblrs: mamasturn

[saturnville]

🐉 navigation

*. * · aj. twenties. she/her. black. creator. ae: @mamasturn . *. * ·

*. * · requests are currently closed! *. * ·

i. the info and guidelines.

ii. the muses.

iii. the tag list form.

iv. the poetic barbie’s journal (masterlist).

v. latest update: bad, kelvin harrison jr.

*. * · divider created by @rookthornesartistry *. * ·

[notapradagurl]

Heyyy love I would like to request a lando fic I’m talking fluff maybe a little afternoon date a cute little picnic maybe during homecoming week. Anything else you want to add I trust your brain 🫶🏾🙂‍↕️

Deserving.

Black! Fem Reader x Orlando Johnson.

A/N: I most certainly can.

Summary: It was homecoming week, and Lando decided to surprise you with an afternoon date, a picnic.

Warnings: just fluff, no smut. Cute couple stuff. Orlando being a cutie pie, and a good boyfriend to the reader. anxious!reader.

Taglist: @megamindsecretlair @satoruya @planetblaque

@playgurlxoxo @dabratzchronicles

@becauseimswagman1

@pocketsizedpanther @bigmooodyjudy @brattyfics

@hxneyclouds @yassbishimvintage

@nayaesworld @ovohanna24

@novahreign @writingsbytee @avoidthings @slippinninque @keyera-jackson @theblacklewinsky

@euphorichappiness10 @life-in-the-slut-house @ranikyani

@uniqueoutlierblog @mama-2001

@fairysoulja @kaylalb @theereina @blyffe @kumkaniudaku @luckydaye777 @that-one-anxious-mango @kindofaintrovert

—————-

It was Homecoming week for Bringston University, an HBCU located in Atlanta, and it was a prestigious campus that promised its students greatness, and success.

Which consisted of pep rallies, fun yet competitive games for the students, and giving back to the local community.

However, it wasn't much of your forte, you preferred to be in the library, hanging with your friends, and your boyfriend, Orlando.

You, and Orlando have been dating for nearly two years now, and the relationship was blooming, he was observant, attentive, affectionate, and protective.

The epitome of the perfect boyfriend, and he was planning something for both of you.

You lay flat on your stomach against the cozy bed with, your feet swinging in a slow, carefree motion. The dorm’s four walls—-two painted in crisp colors, and the other two walls painted in rich onyx. Purple lights lined along the ceiling edges bathing across the room, a framed artwork of yours, and a framed picture of you, and your mom.

Your thumb glided over Instagram, eyes half-lidded, scrolling through familiar faces, and fleeting moments until something snagged your attention.

Your gaze flickered toward the stories bar above the screen, before your thumb tapped on your best friend Simone’s story, watching clips of her playing tennis, in the studio with Cam, taking pictures of delicious food on campus.

You smiled warmly over the picture of her, and your friends were together. As a gentle knock on the dorm room door caught your attention, and you threw your phone across the the pillow.

You hopped out of your bed, and strolled toward the door, before standing before it. “Who is it?”

“It's Orlando,” He says playfully, as your face lit up with a smile, reaching for the doorknob, swung it open. Revealing Orlando in the hallway of the campus.

Orlando stepped through your dorm, as his gaze landed upon you with love, and care. That same look he gave you when you first met him was gentle.

His arms wrapped around your waist, as yours wrapped around his neck, pulling slightly, while your arms were still wrapped around each other, leaning in close. His lips pressed against yours gently, as you kissed him back sweetly, twice. Pulling away.

“Hey, baby. How are you?” Orlando asked kindly, his head tilting slightly.

“I'm good, how are you?” You asked, your hands cradling his face gently.

“I'm great, now that I’m here with you.” Orlando says, as his gaze held yours, smiling warmly.

“It’s Homecoming week, today. We know that I prefer things differently but are you planning something, Orlando?” You exclaimed, your voice laced with curiosity.

Orlando nodded, with a light hum in response. “It’s a surprise, and I can't tell you that yet.”

“You can't tell me, yet?” You asked, your eyes swept over him.

“I'll lead the way, don't worry.” Orlando reassured, winking at you.

A part of you wanted to guess what he planned for homecoming week for the two of you. Dinner? Picnic? Something about your anniversary together?

Thoughts swirling in your mind of all the possibilities, ideas, but now, you had to wait, and follow his lead through the crowd, out of the campus. Excitement flooded through you, biting your lips to suppress a smile, yet he caught it. “Someone’s excited.”

Orlando led you through the hallways, maneuvering your way through students, staff, and faculty, and you kept yourself close to him, as he held your hand protectively.

Right before wrapping his arm around your shoulder, whispering in your ear. “It’s okay, baby. I'm right here.” he reassured, pecking your cheek.

A plethora of black students marched, coordinated colors of burgundy red, and danced in a line, their bodies moved in sync to the pulsating rhythm of the music.

“Bringston U! The best HBCU!” The male students chanted in sync, as their shoes stomped on the fiber of carpet cream white.

The main hall was flooded with students chanting the name of the campus, stomping together, as you smiled at them, the walls were decorated with posters, hangers, and historical framed photos of the honored ones before them.

“This is so cool!” You exclaimed softly, as your hands clasped together.

Orlando opened the door for you, and outside to the warm summer air bitting at your skin. The heat beating on you without warning, as you ran away from the sun.

Orlando took your hand, as he led you through the pathway of the forest, trees and bushes on either side of the greenery. He made a beeline for the clearing of the forest. In the center of the clearing, he had laid a thick blanket, surrounded by a picnic basket, a letter inside and a few candles, the light casting fewer shadows across the grass below.

“Aw, this is so romantic!”

Orlando carefully led you to the beautiful setting, and you spotted that the candles were plastic. “Fake candles?” you chuckled lightly, smiling. He leaned in, and whispered. “I didn't want to burn anything down. And the campus doesn't allow anything flammable, so I got these from the shop.”

“I wanted to make our day special for homecoming, just the two of us. Away from the noise.”

You nodded in agreement, and a smile spread across his face. Evident of the joy he felt when he was with you. He gently sat down beside you, before handing you, a well-prepared meal of food, and your drinks.

He leaned in close, planting a kiss on your lips. “Happy Homecoming,”

Heat crept along your face, and you leaned in, your lips brushing over his in a poesseive, slow motion. Claiming him as yours. Tasting the sweetness of fruit, and wine from his tongue. Pulling away, you smiled.

“Happy Homecoming,”

For the rest of the evening, you and Orlando engaged in conversation, sipping your drinks, eating your food. You enjoyed your day, with your boyfriend. It was perfect.

—————-

[saturnville]

blind man | kelvin harrison jr.

pairing: kelvin harrison jr x black fem oc summary: in which Micah is set up on a blind date with Kelvin. warnings: Crappy ending but oh well. an: I started this months ago and finally finished it this morning. surprise @youreadthatright remember: likes are nice, but reblogs and comments are encouraged!

She should’ve known better than to put the fate of her love life (or the lack thereof) in the hands of her two best friends. Not because they’d steer her wrong—no—because ring fingers adorned in jewels more expensive than the MSRP of her luxury vehicle, often forget what it meant to toil for a shot at love.

She wasn’t desperate, far from it, actually. Her universe didn’t revolve around men and what they had between their thighs. Her priorities were great wine, even better food, and making it through another hot Pilates class without falling over from heat exhaustion and blinking sweat from her eyes.

Yet she did it anyway. Despite swearing off men and promising her allegiance to her favorite toy, she pulled on her favorite baby blue cashmere sweater, smoothed dark-wash tailored jeans over Southern-bred thighs and swiped her purse off the coffee table like it’d offended her and begrudgingly showed up for the date they’d arranged for her.

Not any date—a blind date. Where the man sitting across from her could be a murderer, or even worse—a mama’s boy. She gagged at the thought. She only hoped her friends knew her well enough not to subject her to such torture.

Affirmations and self-regulations pushed her out of the car and toward the heavy double doors, where she was greeted, if you could say that, by a hostess whose face spoke before her mouth did. Bored, disinterested, ready to leave. She couldn’t be mad; she felt the same way.

The aroma of expensive cuisine and notes of bubbly wine smacked her cheeks until her nose crinkled and she blinked twice.

She’d never exchanged numbers with the mystery man; it defeated the purpose of a blind date, leaving her to wonder if her man of the night was the gentleman on the left, slurping pasta noodles off his fork and lapping the sauce off his face like a dog, or the older man berating a nurse for not bringing the right sparkling water.

She winced.

Then, she remembered the overly descriptive details from her friends, who never backed down from hyping someone’s head. Kelvin is fine, they’d said. The classic, generational fine. Like, your granny would’ve considered risking her reputation in 1958, type of fine.

Her eyes scanned the room, searching for the needle in an otherwise very unimpressive haystack.

It didn’t register that the man seated in a booth in the back of the restaurant could be her suitor for the evening. Not with clean, freshly molded waves that she was confident she’d become seasick if she stared too long, and the sluttiest blue sweater that stretched over muscles developed from determination and years of discipline.

It was only when a pair of honeyed brown eyes met hers, and a dimpled smile guaranteed to be the cause of many women’s increased heart rate and damp panties, that it clicked.

They paired her with one fine individual. Hopefully, prayerfully, she thought as she waved shyly, his brain wasn’t small enough so that she’d declare him an enemy of the state. “Hi.” She approached the table and tucked her freshly pressed hair behind her ear. “Are you Kelvin?”

He stood. Their minimal height difference made her smile softly as she adjusted her footing in her high-heeled boots.

His cologne caressed her like a hug—warm and invasive. Intoxicating enough to consider death by suffocation of musky notes tightening around her lungs. “Yes.” He stammered a bit, not sure if she was comfortable with being touched, but he relaxed the moment she shifted her clutch beneath her opposite arm and slid her hand across his shoulder.

“For you.” He announced once they parted, hand-palming a beautifully curated bouquet wrapped in brown paper and sealed with a bow.

What woman wrote him? With enough sense to bring flowers, let alone a skillfully wrapped bouquet. She recognized the master artisanship from her friends at Trader Joe’s. Her eyebrows raised as she held the flowers to her nose. “You do this often?” Her tone was teasing; she didn’t hide her amusement as she slid into the seat.

“Do what?” He asked, fingertips pushing a glass of water toward her.

“Buy flowers wrapped all pretty.” Micah smelled the flowers again and exhaled. The petaled kissed the worn leather seat as she adjusted them beside her.

She was sure that if he were two shades lighter and carried shame in his pocket like a keychain, his cheeks would’ve reddened and he’d work hard to hide the boyish smile on his face.

He didn’t.

“Nah.” He shrugged. “Just the ones whose friends threaten to castrate me if I don’t remember the one and only Micah Daniels loves Trader Joe’s flower arrangements.”

She paused. Glitched like a scratched vinyl record playing music on loop. A thick, sculptured eyebrow raised.

Detail. He paid attention to detail, And let it linger above his mind like clouds on a summer day… until they wept above the meadows and produced one of the most precious creations under the heavens, all right beneath the tip of her finger.

“Easy, Kelvin,” Micah warned lowly, twirling the water with her plant-fiber straw that’d cracked beneath her teeth. “I might think you want something more than dinner.”

She winced after saying it, only hoping he wouldn’t completely miss the underlying tone of a message she probably shouldn’t have communicated, because men—most men—took everything out of context and sexualized everything.

Kelvin shook his head. “Nah, I like dinner. Maybe we can add a movie next time.”

He was charming. Disturbingly so. In that way you didn’t know you were being charmed until your vision blurred from the tears forming in her eyes and the tremble of her cheeks for smiling all evening. She chalked it up to Southern-bred cuteness he didn’t abandon when her trekked from the deep south to the City of Angels.

Micha wasn’t easily impressed. And she’d rather be caught dead with her foot in her mouth before she praised the bare minimum.

But she was intrigued. By storytelling that must’ve been mastered during his adolescence, when Christmas Day was the stage for his comedic antics before the audiences of aunties and cousins. So animated and full of life. Charming as a star winking at Earth until it blushed and turned its cheek.

Micha Michelle, against her better judgement, found herself enjoying the company of the man she feared was only pretty with no functioning neurons. She stood corrected. Intellect beyond his years with the wisdom of his ancestors settled deep within his bones, he aroused her. Not enough to have her panties hanging off by her toe as he ate her like his favorite snack, but intellectually. To where she leaned forward on her elbows and asked—

“—What else can you teach me?” It happened so quickly that she didn’t have the opportunity to register (or regret) her statement, and its partial duality.

It was the wine, she told herself. Two glasses of Moscato imparted from California would do the trick just fine. Kelvin eyed her from over the rim of his glass—its edge smeared by remnants of ChapStick that’d been stolen by his utensils and the water glass.

He lowered the glass and met her unwavering gaze. “Whatchu wanna know?”

Micah bit her lip. Was it getting hot? Yes. The collar of her blouse stuck to her collarbone like glue, her palms slid along her denim jeans and left a soft streak in their wake. “You tell me. Anything.”

The room tightened. Curved in on itself until the walls hovered over them to hear that they add to say, to commit it to memory; a story to tell of the desire that circled them like in a plague.

Kelvin hummed. Like something was funny. Like he’d been amused. He was.

She would’ve been offended, had she not seen The glint in his eye. He cleared his throat and popped a French fry in his mouth like he wasn’t aware he was on the verge of making he combust.

“You gotta let me take you out again. You know, sacred information and all. For…special patrons.”

Micah barked out a laugh that shook her chest. This nigga…

He grinned.

“Alright,” she nodded. “I’ll be waiting.”

And she didn't have to wait long.

-

tags: @kirayuki22 @greedyjudge2 @notapradagurl7 @irishmanwhore @honeytoffee @theogbadbitch @jazziejax @kumkaniudaku @darkseidex

[kumkaniudaku]

Micah is much more ready for this than me. I would’ve passed out after the second joke and first sip lmao. Way too fine. Way too charming. Get me out of here!

But now I need to know what’s to learn on that second date 👀

[saturnville]

I’m easy and would’ve folded. Idk how sister did it.

And we maaaaay peak into that 👀

[saturnville]

blind man | kelvin harrison jr.

pairing: kelvin harrison jr x black fem oc summary: in which Micah is set up on a blind date with Kelvin. warnings: Crappy ending but oh well. an: I started this months ago and finally finished it this morning. surprise @youreadthatright remember: likes are nice, but reblogs and comments are encouraged!

She should’ve known better than to put the fate of her love life (or the lack thereof) in the hands of her two best friends. Not because they’d steer her wrong—no—because ring fingers adorned in jewels more expensive than the MSRP of her luxury vehicle, often forget what it meant to toil for a shot at love.

She wasn’t desperate, far from it, actually. Her universe didn’t revolve around men and what they had between their thighs. Her priorities were great wine, even better food, and making it through another hot Pilates class without falling over from heat exhaustion and blinking sweat from her eyes.

Yet she did it anyway. Despite swearing off men and promising her allegiance to her favorite toy, she pulled on her favorite baby blue cashmere sweater, smoothed dark-wash tailored jeans over Southern-bred thighs and swiped her purse off the coffee table like it’d offended her and begrudgingly showed up for the date they’d arranged for her.

Not any date—a blind date. Where the man sitting across from her could be a murderer, or even worse—a mama’s boy. She gagged at the thought. She only hoped her friends knew her well enough not to subject her to such torture.

Affirmations and self-regulations pushed her out of the car and toward the heavy double doors, where she was greeted, if you could say that, by a hostess whose face spoke before her mouth did. Bored, disinterested, ready to leave. She couldn’t be mad; she felt the same way.

The aroma of expensive cuisine and notes of bubbly wine smacked her cheeks until her nose crinkled and she blinked twice.

She’d never exchanged numbers with the mystery man; it defeated the purpose of a blind date, leaving her to wonder if her man of the night was the gentleman on the left, slurping pasta noodles off his fork and lapping the sauce off his face like a dog, or the older man berating a nurse for not bringing the right sparkling water.

She winced.

Then, she remembered the overly descriptive details from her friends, who never backed down from hyping someone’s head. Kelvin is fine, they’d said. The classic, generational fine. Like, your granny would’ve considered risking her reputation in 1958, type of fine.

Her eyes scanned the room, searching for the needle in an otherwise very unimpressive haystack.

It didn’t register that the man seated in a booth in the back of the restaurant could be her suitor for the evening. Not with clean, freshly molded waves that she was confident she’d become seasick if she stared too long, and the sluttiest blue sweater that stretched over muscles developed from determination and years of discipline.

It was only when a pair of honeyed brown eyes met hers, and a dimpled smile guaranteed to be the cause of many women’s increased heart rate and damp panties, that it clicked.

They paired her with one fine individual. Hopefully, prayerfully, she thought as she waved shyly, his brain wasn’t small enough so that she’d declare him an enemy of the state. “Hi.” She approached the table and tucked her freshly pressed hair behind her ear. “Are you Kelvin?”

He stood. Their minimal height difference made her smile softly as she adjusted her footing in her high-heeled boots.

His cologne caressed her like a hug—warm and invasive. Intoxicating enough to consider death by suffocation of musky notes tightening around her lungs. “Yes.” He stammered a bit, not sure if she was comfortable with being touched, but he relaxed the moment she shifted her clutch beneath her opposite arm and slid her hand across his shoulder.

“For you.” He announced once they parted, hand-palming a beautifully curated bouquet wrapped in brown paper and sealed with a bow.

What woman wrote him? With enough sense to bring flowers, let alone a skillfully wrapped bouquet. She recognized the master artisanship from her friends at Trader Joe’s. Her eyebrows raised as she held the flowers to her nose. “You do this often?” Her tone was teasing; she didn’t hide her amusement as she slid into the seat.

“Do what?” He asked, fingertips pushing a glass of water toward her.

“Buy flowers wrapped all pretty.” Micah smelled the flowers again and exhaled. The petaled kissed the worn leather seat as she adjusted them beside her.

She was sure that if he were two shades lighter and carried shame in his pocket like a keychain, his cheeks would’ve reddened and he’d work hard to hide the boyish smile on his face.

He didn’t.

“Nah.” He shrugged. “Just the ones whose friends threaten to castrate me if I don’t remember the one and only Micah Daniels loves Trader Joe’s flower arrangements.”

She paused. Glitched like a scratched vinyl record playing music on loop. A thick, sculptured eyebrow raised.

Detail. He paid attention to detail, And let it linger above his mind like clouds on a summer day… until they wept above the meadows and produced one of the most precious creations under the heavens, all right beneath the tip of her finger.

“Easy, Kelvin,” Micah warned lowly, twirling the water with her plant-fiber straw that’d cracked beneath her teeth. “I might think you want something more than dinner.”

She winced after saying it, only hoping he wouldn’t completely miss the underlying tone of a message she probably shouldn’t have communicated, because men—most men—took everything out of context and sexualized everything.

Kelvin shook his head. “Nah, I like dinner. Maybe we can add a movie next time.”

He was charming. Disturbingly so. In that way you didn’t know you were being charmed until your vision blurred from the tears forming in her eyes and the tremble of her cheeks for smiling all evening. She chalked it up to Southern-bred cuteness he didn’t abandon when her trekked from the deep south to the City of Angels.

Micha wasn’t easily impressed. And she’d rather be caught dead with her foot in her mouth before she praised the bare minimum.

But she was intrigued. By storytelling that must’ve been mastered during his adolescence, when Christmas Day was the stage for his comedic antics before the audiences of aunties and cousins. So animated and full of life. Charming as a star winking at Earth until it blushed and turned its cheek.

Micha Michelle, against her better judgement, found herself enjoying the company of the man she feared was only pretty with no functioning neurons. She stood corrected. Intellect beyond his years with the wisdom of his ancestors settled deep within his bones, he aroused her. Not enough to have her panties hanging off by her toe as he ate her like his favorite snack, but intellectually. To where she leaned forward on her elbows and asked—

“—What else can you teach me?” It happened so quickly that she didn’t have the opportunity to register (or regret) her statement, and its partial duality.

It was the wine, she told herself. Two glasses of Moscato imparted from California would do the trick just fine. Kelvin eyed her from over the rim of his glass—its edge smeared by remnants of ChapStick that’d been stolen by his utensils and the water glass.

He lowered the glass and met her unwavering gaze. “Whatchu wanna know?”

Micah bit her lip. Was it getting hot? Yes. The collar of her blouse stuck to her collarbone like glue, her palms slid along her denim jeans and left a soft streak in their wake. “You tell me. Anything.”

The room tightened. Curved in on itself until the walls hovered over them to hear that they add to say, to commit it to memory; a story to tell of the desire that circled them like in a plague.

Kelvin hummed. Like something was funny. Like he’d been amused. He was.

She would’ve been offended, had she not seen The glint in his eye. He cleared his throat and popped a French fry in his mouth like he wasn’t aware he was on the verge of making he combust.

“You gotta let me take you out again. You know, sacred information and all. For…special patrons.”

Micah barked out a laugh that shook her chest. This nigga…

He grinned.

“Alright,” she nodded. “I’ll be waiting.”

And she didn't have to wait long.

-

tags: @kirayuki22 @greedyjudge2 @notapradagurl7 @irishmanwhore @honeytoffee @theogbadbitch @jazziejax @kumkaniudaku @darkseidex

[darkseidex]

So…. We needa see the second date sista.

[saturnville]

👀👀👀👀👀

[mamasturn]

ADORN | tyriq withers

Pairing: Tyriq Withers x Black OC!Selah Withers Summary: In which Selah honors her husband in the only way she knows how. Songs: Adorn by Miguel WC: 2333 Note: The girlies said they'd never get sick of them, so.

She’d heard about love—listened to immature characters on the television dote on about the partners who’d hardly known the difference between adoration and lust, with smiles that stretched across their faces like the horizon over the shoulder of a stable Earth. Seen it manifested as twelve-year-old eyes tracked the gentle movements of a husband circling his wife’s waist, their grayed hair glowing like a symbol of time’s grace and mercy, as they shared the sidewalk like the young lovers they once were.

She didn’t live it.

Love wasn’t gumdrops and lollipops like that stupid game her mother purchased from the thrift store with missing cards, broken pieces, and a half-bent board with the border eroding like the side of a mountain, because, in her eyes, her children weren’t worthy of nice things. The ragged clothing with frayed hems and shoes with holes in the soles, until six years old, was enough. Love was a weapon.

Wielded by the most ruthless of gods. The ones who conspired with earth’s inhabitants to disrupt, destroy, and detonate any sense of dignity to be formed within the soul of a young girl who wanted nothing more than to be cherished.

To be seen. To be loved. To be adored.

Echoes of owls’ chirps in the night reverberated off paper-thin walls, but her calls for vengeance, for justice had fallen upon deaf ears. Where had the defender of the cosmos been when she needed her the most? Had she, bruised and battered by the matriarch from which she came, not been worthy of protection?

A heart born of flesh hardened. Hard and fiery to the touch. Her eyes, the shade of hearth and fire, simmered into something dark—powerful enough to turn one to stone with one glance. Her lips were the guards of a venomous tongue, the barbed wire protecting the child on the other side who’d been buried beneath decades of turmoil, that forced people away before they got too close.

To hurt. To abuse. To leave.

She’d trained herself. Equipped herself with an arrow and poison-dipped bow, because to be defenseless, to be without armor, was an abomination, a sin unforgivable. Strapped it onto her back like a second skin, easily accessible, always ready to strike.

Because time and time again, love proved to be the bane of her existence. The disruption of her sanity. The blow to her heart left tiny hands patching holes that candy wrappers and bows couldn’t cover.

She’d accepted it—had come to terms with the fact that she’d die alone.

Alone. Partnerless. Childless.

And wrapped in an abyss of darkness and bitterness until it swallowed her whole.

Until her temple of turmoil was shattered by winds that carried the whispers of the heavens, carrying her feet to a place unknown, where the waves of the seven seas kissed the dark sand as if welcoming something precious—something she was destined to return to.

Swept her feet from the sand, pulling her deeper into his depths until she breathed his name like oxygen and his likeness ran through her veins like lava. Consumed her like a fire; the flames of an infatuation warming her body, and its smoke wafting beneath her nose, staining her receptors with every ounce of him until she couldn’t think straight.

And it landed her here. Eons later, tucked beneath a heavy arm riddled with muscle and fair flesh kissed by the moon. She felt it. The chill of the jewelry she’d picked out just months prior. Heavy and hard. Fourteen carats of melted gold molded around a slender digit, her name engraved on the interior like scripture—SNW. Her lip curved, her heart softened, and her eyes watered.

She leaned forward, the soft curve of her breasts exposed as the dark sheet slid off her body like silk. He wasn’t facing her—his head turned as he exhaled deeply, chest rising and falling in tandem with the soft ticks of the fan above their heads. His eyes never opened, consciousness not confirmed, but his hand tightened around her waist.

She turned her head, wild curls dropping in her face. She willed them away quickly—her view couldn’t be blocked. It was too precious. Apollo in his flesh, Dionysus in his laugh, Patroclus in his tenderness. Ethereal and beatific. Evidence of the lips of heaven touching earth.

“You okay?” She jolted in his arms, the vibration of his chest disrupting the fantasyland she twirled in. He turned his head, eyes hidden beneath low eyelids. A gentle hand caressed her cheek, sweet apologies falling from his lips like blessings. “M’sorry, baby.”

She shook her head and smiled lopsidedly. “I’m good.” Her knuckles cracked beneath her weight as she pressed herself up from the mattress that’d captured every movement of their bodies like poetry in motion. “Be back.”

She saw them now. Eyes bluer than the waves commanded by an ancient triton, calmer than a cloudless sky on a spring day. Gentle like that of a spotless lamb, and intense as a hurricane ravaging a town. “Wait—”

She was out of bed now, out of bed and tying her white robe, embroidered with her initials SNW,  around her body quickly as if he hadn’t seen, tasted every inch of her body and committed it to memory. “Stay. Rest. I’ll be back.”

She lowered to her knees at the coffee table. The soft flicker from the nearby candle’s dimly lit flame cast gentle shadows along her art. Crafted by hand, not as skilled as her ancestors or artisans of a previous day in age, she was determined to erect an outward manifestation of what lay quietly behind the walls of her heart.

Reverence. Honor. Adoration.

She reached beneath the couch, wincing as the plastic bags scraped against the hardwood floor with a screech. Heavy in her hands were thirty-six flowers—thirty-six roses. A blend of blue and white that she’d arranged to stand boldly in the center of the table.

A familiar melody came from her, words she knew like the back of her hand, as she nipped at the extra length of the stems. Her head tilted as she arranged the bouquet with the experience of a TikTok florist in training, an internal ballad played by her heart’s symphony crested as she snipped the long stems and arranged the flowers in the vase, one by one.

Oh, so long before this night I prayed That a star would guide you my way.

The chocolate came next—an amateur move, but one that seemingly never went out of style. Little dollops of Hershey's kisses were scattered along the table as an offering to an ancient deity, amused by devotion and fond of imbalance, becoming… balanced.

Manicured nails, save for the middle finger that’d chipped during their late-night rendezvous, when she thought the wall would relieve the pressure from her treasure being dug from the inside out, tapped along the laminated cover that protected her artwork.

A collage.

Each photo stitched together using the needles that threaded blood, pumping his name through her heart like a lifeline. Some taken while posing on red carpets like models draped in silk and sated in desire. Others where her curls splayed along his bare chest, the evidence of carnal lovemaking unmistakable on his fair skin, as his dimple grin met her glowing skin.

Then, the jar. The vessel, the box of Pandora that held what she once guarded with her life and trembling hands, sat before her, small tokens of love and an all-consuming and insurmountable adoration, filled to the brim with reasons.

Reasons she adored him. Reasons she cared for him. Reasons she revered him.

Three hundred sixty-five. All of them were adequate. All of them were true.

She didn’t know how she came up with that many. How her heart had bled on the paper with no stain. Or maybe it did. With the tears that hardened the edges of some notes and smeared the lipstick stains on the others.

Her fingers trembled around the satin bow. It was black—simple, classy—and hugged the neck of the mason jar tightly. The tip of her tongue peeked from her teeth, and the melody she knew by heart fumbled out of her mouth and into the atmosphere around her.

She could’ve laughed. Nearly did. What was she doing?

Building an altar on the foundation of what she thought was impossible to obtain. Honoring a man, she heaved to immortalize, because she couldn’t compute, couldn’t fathom living a life without his lips gliding across the shell of her ear, whispering her name like an answer to a long-awaited prayer. Gracing her with his presence as a penance long awaited.

Reverence. Honor. Adoration.

The flame of the cedar-scented candle bowed toward the hallway in obeisance, shifting toward the giver of its light. The floorboard signed under the weight of a presence too heavy to be of a mere mortal.

He was awake. And watching her.

She didn’t turn. Didn’t need to. Her body already knew. Her name rose deep in her chest, unspoken yet felt, and the scent of him—cedar, salt, and something sunlit —curled around her spine.

“What’s this?”

Apollo.

His voice struck her spine like a sunbeam breathing dark water. Her hands stilled. Stomach churned. Not from fear—anticipation.

Her first offering. Would he accept it?

She didn’t turn. “It’s,” she breathed. “I don’t know.”

Something in him broke—softly, quietly. The sixteen-year-old rose to his knees.

She hadn’t meant to break him. She only meant to love him. Out loud and boldly as he’d spent the last ten years of his life doing, without shame and folly, her jaw trembled as she faced him, undone by the stream of red circling his irises.

Oceans in distress. The seas at war.

She stood on unsteady legs. The collar of his oversized shirt exposed her toned shoulder, and the small tattoo there. She felt sixteen again—flustered, exposed, vulnerable—and tried to smooth down the flyways of hair unruly and untamed from christening their bed chambers.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“Don’t.”

She wrung her fingers together, the heavy weight on her left hand nearly forcing her knees to the floor. Words didn’t come. Comfort didn’t soothe a wound she thought was stitched closed and healed.

Healing wasn’t linear, she supposed.

A halo circled him as he moved slowly toward the coffee table, the candlelight swaying as he inched closer. His fingers caressed the petals. His mouth lifted at the collage. His eyes softened at the jar—365 Reasons Why.

Because you held me while I cried. Because your laugh is infectious. Because you didn’t run when you could’ve. Because you’re the sun incarnate.

Since when did gods—her mind whispered—shed their immortal skin so willingly? Since when did a man made of sunlight stand trembling because of her?

A man amazed by being chosen. A boy amazed when his wish came true. A husband, amazed that she loved him in ways she didn’t even know she could.

He looked pained. Like his equilibrium had been disrupted, his internal axis tilted.

He ached. Raw and real. A god turned mortal. 

“I…” the words fell flat. No word crafted by human hands or structured with divine magnitude could encompass the larger-than-life feeling of gratitude that suffocated him like oxygen deprived.  

How did it occur? His mind wandered, and his eyes followed. How’d she manage to bring him further to his knees when he already postured himself as a dutiful servant before her? Was it common for the heavens to kiss the head of a man unearning and turn him to a man deserving?

To be loved, he realized, was to be immortalized. In theory. In practice. In love. 

He exhaled shakily. “I’m not upset.” He met her eyes and saw her. The girl who worked so hard to heal broke through the iron bars she’d been stationed behind. “I’m overwhelmed. N-not in a bad way, I just…

“For years, people tried to downplay my infatuation with you. Like I was just some dumbass kid with his eyes bigger than his head.” The light winked at the gold band around his finger—the outward manifestation of an internal commitment, as ancient as the tales of old. “And I was, God knows I was. Despite it all: the years of chasing, the back and forth, the games, the attempts to lay waste to what I knew was true—here I am. The woman I met at the library a decade ago, and fought like hell just to get her to talk to me…is now the wife that builds altars in my honor.”

Tyriq chuckled brokenly, eyes dropping toward the letter half-sealed between his fingers. I love you forever. “I don’t think it gets much better than that, baby, I don’t.”

Selah tried to smile. The corners of her mouth wobbled, and the lump in her throat folded over her words. “I’ve spent a lot of my life being afraid to love and to be loved and to be seen. Home wasn’t safe for me. There were no bold outward expressions of how much my existence made someone’s day,” she said. “And though you know good and damn well I wasn’t accepting your advances back then, I never forgot the look in your eyes. And I thought, ‘Wow. Whoever he loves one day will be so adored.’ I just never thought it’d be me.”

“Girl,” Tyriq scoffed. He stepped toward her, the weight of his arm settling around her waist. Selah leaned into him, her cheek against his bare chest, fingers circling the toned muscle beneath golden flesh. “It was gon’ be you or nobody else.”

Silence. Heavy, weighted silence. Reverence. 

Selah lifted her head. “You mean that?” 

Tyriq nodded. Pressed his lips against hers until her breath faltered and her knees buckled. “I do. It’s you and me forever, baby. Always.”

Apollo and Athena. Sun and strategy. Warmth and restraint. One.

-

Tags: @darkseidex @amirawrah @ga33y3 @ariesthesun @simplementemeencantafutbol @szalipcombo @sheinaskirt @melaninhawtie @unicoo @imperfectlyperfect78 @ariesthesun @blckblossom @fifi-asco @youreadthatright @mauvecherie-writes @imperfectlyperfect78 @uniqueoutlierblog + let me know if you want to be added or removed.

[mamasturn]

TRADE PLACES | tyriq withers

Pairing: Tyriq Withers x Black!OC Selah Andrews Summary: The day they went on their first date. Songs: Trade Places by Jack Harlow WC: 2.1k Warnings: Girl, it's fluffy and cute. Note: I will love this duo forever. Remember to reblog and comment!

Selah was carved by moonlight. Cut from the crevice of a mysterious crescent, loomed large and haloed by a celestial glow. How the upper air had dealt bountifully with the mortal souls of earth, to grace its inhabitants with an heir of Selene, he was unsure.

She was grace, personified. Beauty dipped in mahogany and stringed with gold. Poise wrapped in a faux fur sweeping her ankles, and an all-black ensemble that’d bring even the mightiest men to their knees to bow before her.

He’d fall in reverence at even the whisper of her presence.

Foot traffic parted without meaning to, leaving room for her stride. Confident. Sexy. Sure. Of herself and the company she kept beside her. The wind whipped against the bottom of her coat as she stepped toward him.

One. Two. Three.

She approached him like a saint to a patron. Holy and luminous. Hands shielded with leather gloves and a smile so casual he’d almost forgotten who stood before him. She tucked her hands in the front pocket of her jeans and raised her chin. “Night on the town?”

Tyriq pressed his back against the bench. One arm was thrown over the back, the other against his thigh, mimicking a rhythm he’d only hope matched the cadence of her laugh. He raised his hand on the back of the bench. “You thought I was goin’ on a date with you, and nobody was gon’ see? Trippin’.”

Her teeth captured her bottom lip like secrets would leap off the tip of her tongue, and she nodded. “Hm. Okay, then.” Her eyes followed his movements as he rose from the bench with a suaveness that she hadn’t remembered him having.

Nor the height, comparable to a mountain towering over a hidden valley. Or the broad muscle hidden beneath layers of heavy cotton and wheat-colored boots like a present preserved for her eyes only. And against her better judgment, curiosity trumped self-control, and her fingers curled around his jacket, tugging slightly. He stepped forward. “I like this.”

His gaze, striking as the seas beneath a cool sky, fell to her hands. Still gripping, still touching. He released a sound—a sigh and a laugh that hadn’t found the perfect place to land and nodded. “Thank you…” In a smooth motion, his hand covered hers. “You ready?”

So simple. Yet so heavy. She smiled anyway: “Yeah.”

They walked together. He slowed his pace to match hers. She adjusted her cadence to keep up with his. They bobbed and weaved through the maze of bodies, young and old, wise and foolish, occupying space on sidewalks cracked from weather and destroyed by human hands. The pathway to a destiny unknown but traveled by a duo who’d otherwise been deemed unlikely in any other circumstance.

“So,” Tyriq hummed. “Since I get to be graced with your presence, it’s only right that I get intel into all things Selah Nicole.”

Selah paused. Leather kissed bare skin. She smirked. Their pace resumed.

“You been keepin’ tabs on me for ten years. You don’t know me yet?” She looked at him now, careful not to collide with the fellow pedestrians. A young boy on a scooter—no older than ten—whizzed past them. Selah jolted, her footsteps halting. Tyriq’s chest brushed her back, and her breath hitched.

He chuckled lowly. “You’ve made it difficult to be known.” He nudged her forward with his index finger—she continued walking, leading them into a clear path. “All mysterious. Closed off. Withdrawn. Like you scared of showin’ people what’s underneath that armor.”

“I like my armor,” she answered quickly.

They paused by a nearby guardrail. Steel bars coated in black paint that’d been applied too thickly and cracked at the seams. She leaned against it cooly, one leg crossed over the other, her elbow resting on the edge. To be that fence. Tyriq’s tongue traced the underside of his tooth. “Do you? What’s it done for you so far?”

Silence. Heavy silence. He didn’t back down. Neither did she.

Selah blew a strand of hair away from her face. “The walls protect a city. The city is my heart, which is too vulnerable for anybody to walk in and take refuge.” She tilted her chin, and her eyes softened a fraction. “But I won’t say I don’t regret keeping it on as long as I have.”

“I’m not askin’ you to bare your soul. Not yet.” He moved closer. “Just…let me see a glimpse of it. I know it’s pretty in there.” Selah smiled before she could stop it. Smiled and leaned into the gentle tap of her chin with his index finger.

“You always sweet-talkin’ somebody like this?”

“Nope.”

Selah blinked. Curled her finger around the chain tucked beneath the collar of her shirt. Cool. Tangible. Stabilizing. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed thickly. “Oh.” She caught the subtle curl of his lip. The easiness that he wore like a blanket. It aggravated her. And intrigued her all the same.

She pressed her lips together and turned her head toward the horizon. The sun cast an orange hue over the city’s skyline. Rich. Warm. Comfortable. “Orange. My favorite color. Was pink for a while. Then a little bit of blue and gold.” He smiled at that. “Then, I wanted a color that reminded me of warmth. Satisfaction. Orange. Like that.”

He cast his gaze with her line of sight. The color of rebirth. The shade of healing. The hue of transformation.

She turned toward him again. He leaned in. She inhaled the musk of his cologne. He ingested the sweetness of her perfume.

Her hand slid off the handrail, the movement too slow to be mistaken as anything aside from an invitation. One, two, three beats passed. Her fingers didn’t brush her sides. Didn’t slither into her pockets. Hovered a mere three inches away from his.

Blue eyes met cracks in worn leather. Saw the outline of almond nails beneath the fabric. Caught the twitch of her fingers as she fought the urge to retreat.

But she didn’t move. Didn’t run. She waited.

Tyriq hummed, pleased. Amused. Surprised, really. Which prompted him to slide his fingers through hers, pulling her toward him until they were chest to chest. Inhaling the unspoken desire that seeped through her pores, the kind her mouth wouldn’t say, but the heavy rise and fall of her chest revealed just the same.

Her eyes fell to his lips, and the corners of her eyes softened. Heat crept up her neck and settled beneath dark skin. Her free hand rested against his chest, and she tapped once. “You’re enjoyin’ this a little too much.”

“Been waitin’ for a long time,” he countered, his eyes locked on hers. “Lemme have this.”

Have you.

Tyriq nodded toward the near-empty sidewalk. “C’mon, mama.” Her breath hitched. Stuttered. Halted in her chest like her heart had skipped a beat. And maybe it did. Leapt and twirled like it recognized the drummer that pounded the intense rhythm thundering behind her ribs.

The conversation flowed naturally. More natural than she’d expected. Moments of silence weren’t awkward. They were comfortable. Opportunities to digest what’d been fed. To sit with the fact that he was still as flustered as he was nearly a decade ago. To sit in the fact that she’d grown exhausted from running from someone whose pace wouldn’t falter.

When the sun bid farewell, and the oyster of her existence thrust its pearl into the darkness, wheat and leather pointed east. Toward her apartment. Toward her sanctuary.

“You can come in,” Selah offered quietly, her hand hovering over the doorknob. She felt his presence heavy behind her. The warmth that never cooled. The intensity didn’t subside. It followed her into the fullness of her apartment. Danced with the vanilla and mahogany wafting through the air and waltzed with the notes playing on the vinyl that she failed to turn off before she left.

His eyes didn’t leave her as she moved throughout the space with ease. Flicking on ambient lights, caressing the leaves of plants potted in large homes, shrugging off the faux fur and dropping it on the back of the dining room chair, offering a full, uninterrupted view of what was beneath it.

Tailored jeans covering slender curves. Cotton sweater hiding strong shoulders from years of discipline. Heeled boots shielding freshly manicured toes.

His jaw ticked.

The crinkle of a plastic water bottle caught his attention. She stood by the counter, setting two of them at the edge. She opened slowly, her arms falling from her chest and by her side as she pressed her hips against the granite surface. She turned her head. “Why are you so far?”

His boots kissed the floor as he moved toward her. His hands stayed in his pockets. The distance stayed respectable. Then: “Gotta be on my best behavior.”

She probably looked foolish, she thought. Flustered and overly going. She tried to hide it—the smile that was caught between her teeth, the way she pressed further against the counter ledge as if to say, come closer. Whatever language she spoke, he was fluent.

They were chest to chest now. And she saw him clearly. The small scar above his eyebrow from a soccer cleat to the head—she remembered his winces. And the dimples, the bane of any woman’s self-control, that peaked with every swipe of his tongue across his lip and every charming smile that had her thighs knitted together.

Tyriq’s watch yelped against the counter, and his strong arms bracketed her. She licked her lips. “Why you lookin’ like that?” His question stunned her. Shook her. Exposed her. Because despite every attempt at self-control and fighting like hell to keep her mask up, it slipped. Slipped until it was crushed beneath the sole of his boot.

“Wanna kiss you,” she breathed, her fingers clenching. “An’ I don’t know if I should.”

Tyriq smirked. “Nobody’s stoppin’ you but you.”

Curiosity and discipline warred. Ares and Athena. Love and war. Want and recoil.

His jacket squealed under her fist. She pulled him in. Made the move first. Leaned up, straightened her spine, and brushed her lips over his. Cautious. Testing. And the moment she kissed him deeper, the dam broke. Kissing was an art. One that had lost its way in the era of instant gratification and self-sufficiency.

Un Artisan des Émotions. Craftsman of them all.

Each stroke of his tongue against hers painted her internal canvas. Every brush of his hand against her hip decorated her portrait. And he touched her with delicacy—an objet d’art…

Until she whispered his name. Low. Steady. Sure. He loved how she said it.

Restraint fled. Modesty vanished swiftly. Hunger crossed the threshold. Desire consumed two thundering hearts.

“Ty…” she breathed. His hand left her hip and hovered over her neck, turning her head for uninterrupted access to the warm skin there. Hooded eyes followed her jumping pulse. He licked his lips and kissed there. No—there. Right where the base of her neck and collarbone met, and sucked. She gasped; her fingers curled around his belt. “Baby…”

Baby… Who would’ve known it’d be this riveting? She could’ve cursed herself. She held out too long.

Selah pulled away slowly, her tongue gliding over insatiable lips mounted on hunger. “I think,” she exhaled, her voice cracking over a low moan. “We should call it a night, yeah?” Not that she wanted to; that was the last thing she wanted. But with every passing moment of him drinking her in like a man parched, like a man deprived of fresh water and clean springs, like a man scowering the desert for an oasis—she’d give into the thundering between her thighs and the imagination that ran wild. 

She couldn’t do that. Not yet, anyway.

So, she let him kiss her once more. Soft. Sweet. Chaste. Then: “See you tomorrow.”

Selah jerked. “Tomorrow? What’s tomorrow?” 

Tyriq shrugged and walked toward the door. Slow. Suave. Steady. “Ion have to have a reason outside of wantin’ to see you. Unless you got another plan for your Saturday afternoon.”

“I don’t,” she confessed, ringing her fingers together. His lip curled upward, amused as if he’d won something big. He had. An opportunity. An invitation. A chance that she didn’t flee from. He’d take it before she changed her mind—with pride and gratitude. “So…I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

Tyriq leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Goodnight.” 

The door closed softly behind him—a whisper in the wind. She released a break she was unaware she held. Desire. Fear. Curiosity. Pulled out of her lungs like a force to be reckoned with. 

Her eyes cut toward the abnormally large bouquet at the edge of the counter. She smiled. And whispered into the silent atmosphere—“Goodnight.”

-

Tags: @darkseidex @amirawrah @ga33y3 @ariesthesun @simplementemeencantafutbol @szalipcombo @sheinaskirt @melaninhawtie @unicoo @imperfectlyperfect78 @ariesthesun @blckblossom @fifi-asco @youreadthatright @mauvecherie-writes @imperfectlyperfect78 @uniqueoutlierblog + let me know if you want to be added or removed.

[saturnville]

blind man | kelvin harrison jr.

pairing: kelvin harrison jr x black fem oc summary: in which Micah is set up on a blind date with Kelvin. warnings: Crappy ending but oh well. an: I started this months ago and finally finished it this morning. surprise @youreadthatright remember: likes are nice, but reblogs and comments are encouraged!

She should’ve known better than to put the fate of her love life (or the lack thereof) in the hands of her two best friends. Not because they’d steer her wrong—no—because ring fingers adorned in jewels more expensive than the MSRP of her luxury vehicle, often forget what it meant to toil for a shot at love.

She wasn’t desperate, far from it, actually. Her universe didn’t revolve around men and what they had between their thighs. Her priorities were great wine, even better food, and making it through another hot Pilates class without falling over from heat exhaustion and blinking sweat from her eyes.

Yet she did it anyway. Despite swearing off men and promising her allegiance to her favorite toy, she pulled on her favorite baby blue cashmere sweater, smoothed dark-wash tailored jeans over Southern-bred thighs and swiped her purse off the coffee table like it’d offended her and begrudgingly showed up for the date they’d arranged for her.

Not any date—a blind date. Where the man sitting across from her could be a murderer, or even worse—a mama’s boy. She gagged at the thought. She only hoped her friends knew her well enough not to subject her to such torture.

Affirmations and self-regulations pushed her out of the car and toward the heavy double doors, where she was greeted, if you could say that, by a hostess whose face spoke before her mouth did. Bored, disinterested, ready to leave. She couldn’t be mad; she felt the same way.

The aroma of expensive cuisine and notes of bubbly wine smacked her cheeks until her nose crinkled and she blinked twice.

She’d never exchanged numbers with the mystery man; it defeated the purpose of a blind date, leaving her to wonder if her man of the night was the gentleman on the left, slurping pasta noodles off his fork and lapping the sauce off his face like a dog, or the older man berating a nurse for not bringing the right sparkling water.

She winced.

Then, she remembered the overly descriptive details from her friends, who never backed down from hyping someone’s head. Kelvin is fine, they’d said. The classic, generational fine. Like, your granny would’ve considered risking her reputation in 1958, type of fine.

Her eyes scanned the room, searching for the needle in an otherwise very unimpressive haystack.

It didn’t register that the man seated in a booth in the back of the restaurant could be her suitor for the evening. Not with clean, freshly molded waves that she was confident she’d become seasick if she stared too long, and the sluttiest blue sweater that stretched over muscles developed from determination and years of discipline.

It was only when a pair of honeyed brown eyes met hers, and a dimpled smile guaranteed to be the cause of many women’s increased heart rate and damp panties, that it clicked.

They paired her with one fine individual. Hopefully, prayerfully, she thought as she waved shyly, his brain wasn’t small enough so that she’d declare him an enemy of the state. “Hi.” She approached the table and tucked her freshly pressed hair behind her ear. “Are you Kelvin?”

He stood. Their minimal height difference made her smile softly as she adjusted her footing in her high-heeled boots.

His cologne caressed her like a hug—warm and invasive. Intoxicating enough to consider death by suffocation of musky notes tightening around her lungs. “Yes.” He stammered a bit, not sure if she was comfortable with being touched, but he relaxed the moment she shifted her clutch beneath her opposite arm and slid her hand across his shoulder.

“For you.” He announced once they parted, hand-palming a beautifully curated bouquet wrapped in brown paper and sealed with a bow.

What woman wrote him? With enough sense to bring flowers, let alone a skillfully wrapped bouquet. She recognized the master artisanship from her friends at Trader Joe’s. Her eyebrows raised as she held the flowers to her nose. “You do this often?” Her tone was teasing; she didn’t hide her amusement as she slid into the seat.

“Do what?” He asked, fingertips pushing a glass of water toward her.

“Buy flowers wrapped all pretty.” Micah smelled the flowers again and exhaled. The petaled kissed the worn leather seat as she adjusted them beside her.

She was sure that if he were two shades lighter and carried shame in his pocket like a keychain, his cheeks would’ve reddened and he’d work hard to hide the boyish smile on his face.

He didn’t.

“Nah.” He shrugged. “Just the ones whose friends threaten to castrate me if I don’t remember the one and only Micah Daniels loves Trader Joe’s flower arrangements.”

She paused. Glitched like a scratched vinyl record playing music on loop. A thick, sculptured eyebrow raised.

Detail. He paid attention to detail, And let it linger above his mind like clouds on a summer day… until they wept above the meadows and produced one of the most precious creations under the heavens, all right beneath the tip of her finger.

“Easy, Kelvin,” Micah warned lowly, twirling the water with her plant-fiber straw that’d cracked beneath her teeth. “I might think you want something more than dinner.”

She winced after saying it, only hoping he wouldn’t completely miss the underlying tone of a message she probably shouldn’t have communicated, because men—most men—took everything out of context and sexualized everything.

Kelvin shook his head. “Nah, I like dinner. Maybe we can add a movie next time.”

He was charming. Disturbingly so. In that way you didn’t know you were being charmed until your vision blurred from the tears forming in her eyes and the tremble of her cheeks for smiling all evening. She chalked it up to Southern-bred cuteness he didn’t abandon when her trekked from the deep south to the City of Angels.

Micha wasn’t easily impressed. And she’d rather be caught dead with her foot in her mouth before she praised the bare minimum.

But she was intrigued. By storytelling that must’ve been mastered during his adolescence, when Christmas Day was the stage for his comedic antics before the audiences of aunties and cousins. So animated and full of life. Charming as a star winking at Earth until it blushed and turned its cheek.

Micha Michelle, against her better judgement, found herself enjoying the company of the man she feared was only pretty with no functioning neurons. She stood corrected. Intellect beyond his years with the wisdom of his ancestors settled deep within his bones, he aroused her. Not enough to have her panties hanging off by her toe as he ate her like his favorite snack, but intellectually. To where she leaned forward on her elbows and asked—

“—What else can you teach me?” It happened so quickly that she didn’t have the opportunity to register (or regret) her statement, and its partial duality.

It was the wine, she told herself. Two glasses of Moscato imparted from California would do the trick just fine. Kelvin eyed her from over the rim of his glass—its edge smeared by remnants of ChapStick that’d been stolen by his utensils and the water glass.

He lowered the glass and met her unwavering gaze. “Whatchu wanna know?”

Micah bit her lip. Was it getting hot? Yes. The collar of her blouse stuck to her collarbone like glue, her palms slid along her denim jeans and left a soft streak in their wake. “You tell me. Anything.”

The room tightened. Curved in on itself until the walls hovered over them to hear that they add to say, to commit it to memory; a story to tell of the desire that circled them like in a plague.

Kelvin hummed. Like something was funny. Like he’d been amused. He was.

She would’ve been offended, had she not seen The glint in his eye. He cleared his throat and popped a French fry in his mouth like he wasn’t aware he was on the verge of making he combust.

“You gotta let me take you out again. You know, sacred information and all. For…special patrons.”

Micah barked out a laugh that shook her chest. This nigga…

He grinned.

“Alright,” she nodded. “I’ll be waiting.”

And she didn't have to wait long.

-

tags: @kirayuki22 @greedyjudge2 @notapradagurl7 @irishmanwhore @honeytoffee @theogbadbitch @jazziejax @kumkaniudaku @darkseidex

[i6milfs]

WOMAN’S HISTORY MONTH DAY 5

Hello again everyone! My name is Arriah, and for Women’s History Month I’ve been highlighting and appreciating some of my favorite Black women writers across the fandoms I’m part of.

For Day 5, I wanted to spotlight writers in the comic fandom community, specifically Marvel and DC.

Comic fandoms are some of the most creative spaces in fanfiction. From Batfamily chaos to Avengers found-family dynamics, from angsty character studies to soft fluff and dramatic slow burns, Marvel and DC writers constantly find new ways to explore these characters and worlds.

Black women writers in these fandoms bring so much creativity, passion, and personality to their stories. Their work adds depth to these communities and helps make fandom spaces feel more welcoming and diverse for readers who want to see themselves reflected in the stories they enjoy.

Fanfiction has always been about creativity and community, and these writers put so much time and effort into sharing their ideas and love for these characters with the rest of the fandom.

So for Day 5 of Women’s History Month, I wanted to highlight some amazing Black women writers in the Marvel and DC fandoms whose work I’ve enjoyed and appreciated. If you’re looking for new writers to follow or new fics to read, I definitely recommend checking them out and showing them some love.

Remember if I forgot anybody they might be in the next part or I genuinely could not find them but if you know any black writers tag them in the comments.

Small PSA 💕

While putting this post together, I noticed something that honestly surprised me there aren’t as many Black writers in the Marvel and DC fandom spaces as I expected, especially compared to some other fandoms.

Because of that, I really want to encourage people to actively support the Black writers who are creating in these communities. Writing takes time, effort, and a lot of creativity, and engagement makes a huge difference.

If you enjoy someone’s work, please consider showing that support by liking their posts, leaving comments, reblogging, sharing their fics, or recommending their stories to others. Even small interactions can mean a lot to writers and help their work reach more readers.

Black writers contribute so much creativity and passion to fandom spaces, and their work deserves to be seen, appreciated, and supported.

@loonatears , @unicvnthalle , @kerokeri @hoodzgyal , @truestaim @cindol, @celestemere, @nymphodiety, @apocalypse-shuffle, @tvgals, @horrorn1ght, @sozzoe @j0kers-light, @kerokeri, @burniingblue

@wiinterz, @liyawritesss, @ironinc, @saturnville, @gardenof-venus, @side-shawty, @internetb3by @chrrybl0ssom, @mrsmanofthemonth

@fairydustttx, @wierdblavk-girl, @wannabeluvr, @dontfightiit @decayingearf, @theobservatory, @pinkhoodi, @nieceeee, @ppixienous, @angelic1angel, @ririglow

[tyriqwithersfan]

how cute is he

[mamasturn]

Wheeewwww shiiiiet

[mamasturn]

phases of exploration | tyriq withers

Pairing: Tyriq Withers x Selah Andrews Summary: It's been 7 years since Selah was in a relationship. Now, 7 years later, Selah is exploring the phases of intimacy with a new lover. Warnings: 18+ sexual themes and situations, and mild language. The Phases: Phase 1. Phase 2 (I). Phase 2 (II). Phase 2.5. Phase 3. From the Beginning. To Be One. Have My Babies. Suffocate. Adorn. Be The One.

Tags: @darkseidex @amirawrah @ga33y3 @simplementemeencantafutbol

who dat in the baaaack

[mamasturn]

Phases of Exploration has been updated.

[joenateuser]

TYRIQ WITHERS 57th NAACP Image Awards Pasadena, CA - February 28, 2026

[saturnville]

whew shit

[kumkaniudaku]

Holy Matrimony (2)

Summary: Someone's getting married. Maybe.

Previous Reading: Lesson's Learned, Holy Matrimony (1)

Pairing: Kelvin Harrison Jr. x Black!OC

Word Count: 3,592

In the morning, they moved around each other like distant friends. Discomfort from the hours before whittled into meaningless interactions throughout the day as if their future wasn’t hanging in the balance.

By the evening, while the world buzzed with excitement for the upcoming year, Kelvin and Asia exchanged their first coherent sentences on Tini’s front porch as Asia rummaged through her clutch for the spare key.

“Curtis’s boys are…rough. Don’t let the middle one grab you. He means well, but his hands are heavy.”

Kelvin forced a chuckle. “I think I can handle myself.” He listened to Asia hum her response as she continued fiddling inside her bag. “Asia, I do love you more than—”

“Got it! This thing should be on a ring.” Asia’s overt warning to drop the subject and focus on matters more important than their unresolved tiff halted Kelvin in his tracks. She unlocked the door, then stopped, locking glances with her boyfriend. “Later. Please, let them have their moment.”

Point taken. Kelvin accepted her white flag with a nod and allowed Asia to usher them into Tini’s lively home. Though only four grown men roamed between the living room and the kitchen, the house sounded like a block party had reached peak capacity. Quick pleasantries and introductions brought Kelvin his first dose of brotherhood.

Asia was right. Charles, Curtis’s middle son and carbon copy, was heavy-handed. Each grip on his shoulder to brace for a laugh and shove to emphasize his point left Kelvin sore from the impact. The oldest, Curtis IV, appeared more reserved, watching Kelvin like a hawk without much more than probing questions relayed in ten-minute intervals to test his worthiness for “lil sis.” Christopher, the youngest and most lively, felt more like a peer than the others, but followed their unspoken pact to assume their role as siblings intent on protecting the vulnerable cub in the pack while Curtis sipped scotch nearby to calm his nerves.

From the primary bedroom, Asia eavesdropped next to the door, completely ignoring her mother to consider if now was the time to save her boyfriend and pull him into a tough conversation on the back patio.

“That old fool doesn’t think I’m clueless. Why spend money on Italian when we could light celebrate the new year dancing?”

Asia glanced over at her mother. “You like that place, though. What’s wrong?”

“I don’t like being played. Curtis left the ring receipt out two weeks ago. I've just been letting him stress for nothing. It gives me something to laugh about with the girls.” Tini examined her winter white jumpsuit in the full-length mirror beside her closet and smiled. “Of course, he’d want to marry all this. And I make a cute baby. Just in case.”

“Gross, Ma. It’s okay to keep some things to yourself.” Asia answered.

Martina watched her only daughter crane her neck to eavesdrop and tried to contain her inner amusement as she took a seat at her vanity to apply an extra layer of red lipstick for good measure. “You two okay?”

“What?” Asia’s absentminded response created a grave mistake she didn’t need prompting to correct. “I’m sorry. What did you say? I was just…thinking.”

“Thinking too much to talk to him instead of waiting to see if he says your name?” Asia’s shoulders slipped from their hunched position near her ears as she pushed away from the wall and adjusted her dress. They waited for a response that didn’t exist until it became too awkward to make eye contact. In the silence, Tini regarded Asia from the reflection in her vanity mirror and gestured toward the bed. “Go on and sit down. If you don’t want to talk, at least give your feet a rest. We’re dancing tonight, and you’re not allowed to tell an engaged woman no.”

Asia huffed a short laugh through her nostrils as she trudged toward the edge of the bed closest to her mother. Word gumbo swirled inside her mind like wayward letters in a confusing alphabet soup, crying out for release while Tini pretended to ignore the elephant in the room. She fixed her mascara, adjusted the short finger coils adorning her head, and swapped her shining silver jewelry to silence. Still, she waited until Asia found her voice.

A deep sigh preceded her admission. “We, uh…we talked about getting married. Sort of.” Tini raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Asia continued. “Kel is ready. It’s not like I didn’t know that. I’ve heard him talk about us in the future tense before, but Kelvin talks all the time. Sometimes he doesn’t even notice he’s talking until you bring it up.”

Tini turned on her bench to face her daughter and join the light, nervous chuckle breaking through her sad smile. She turned her attention to the ring on her middle finger and shook her head.

“I know I love him. I’m excited to spend a lot of life beside him. I don’t know if I’m his wife. Or a wife at all, really.”

“Shoot, me neither!” Tini exclaimed. “The only married people I’ve seen up close were your grandparents, and Lord knows I don’t want to be married like that. So, that makes two of us, huh?”

Asia rolled her eyes. “You and Curtis are different. Y’all lived whole lives before you even thought about getting married, then decided to finish things up together.”

“You act like I’m about to die, girl! I’m almost sixty, not dead!” Tini threw her head back to laugh as Asia tried to explain away her mistake, taking delight in being on the other end of a social faux pas for once. “Listen, child. The only difference between us and you two how y’all understand these computers. Love doesn’t come easier because you’re older. You have to grow into it forever.”

“I don’t know if I can.” Tears welled in Asia’s eyes, prickling the corners as she looked to Tini. “I told him love wasn’t enough last night without sharing a solution. And I’m afraid I’ll take too long to find out. I’m sure he’s deciding how to end this by tomorrow.”

Martina reached out to rest a hand on Asia’s knee and squeezed. She smiled, easy and bright. “Kelvin is getting roughed up and making sure Curtis doesn’t drink his old tail into a coma before the reservation. That’s all.”

Asia shifted her focus to the hem of her dress to pick at loose threads made worse by her disturbance. Tini let her smile soften as she continued.

“Love isn’t enough. You’re right. It’s the foundation for the ultimate promise if that’s the route meant for you. Love, when you put it to work, is a choice, Asia. You two chose to try again. Kelvin chooses to pack up his things every other week and fly down here. You chose to put your fear aside and meet his family. You choose to include one another.

Tini reached up to lift Asia’s chin. A heaviness gripped her heart—a reminder of her own choices in a time she often prayed to reclaim for her daughter’s sake. A soft caress against her cheek caught a wayward tear. “Choices mount up to a lifetime together that you two get to define on your own terms, baby. But you can’t discover those terms if you keep running away. Unless you want to run away?”

“I don’t want to run away. I just want to get it right.”

“You decide your happiness. Not a certificate. If you want to marry him because he’s your calm and you want to choose him forever, then do it. If you don’t, tell him that. Don’t allow fear of what might happen stop you from deciding what you want to happen.” Tini said, a maternal gentleness wrapping around her sound counsel.

What did she want to happen? Asia wrestled with the question surrounded by laughter and excitement at the dinner table as time ticked away to the main event. She’d spent lifetimes of energy planning for what she didn’t desire, never considering success. The early mornings in the kitchen spent playing sous chef for Kelvin’s culinary exploits. The quiet moments on the couch, individual hobbies keeping them in separate bubbles while their legs intertwined beneath a heavy blanket. Or the times spent so wrapped up in each other that the outside world fell away into nothing but the love letters passing between their lips between kisses. That’s what she wanted. That’s what she had. It’s what she’d choose every time.

Realization catapulted back into the present, her attention falling onto the side of Kelvin’s face illuminated by soft candlelight as he joked with Charles about football rivalries. Her hand searched his beneath the table to lace their fingers. Without missing a beat, he welcomed her in, his thumb following its usual path to caress her knuckles before pausing to look at her and quirk his brow.

“You alright?” Concern sat thick on his face until Asia cracked a smile.

She nodded. “Yeah. Just saying I’m sorry and I love you.”

Joy lit Kelvin from the inside and spilled into a grin he couldn’t contain. He leaned in without warning to connect a sweet kiss to Asia’s cheek before treating her hand to the same affection.

“I love you, too.” The urge to say more rushed through him in a tidal wave. “Hey, look, I—”

What lay on the other side of his sentence became lost to the sudden scrape of wood on polished concrete as Curtis pushed back from the table and stood to his feet. Asia locked eyes with her mother, mouthing, “Look surprised!” in her direction. Lifetime Network-worthy acting morphed Tini’s face into one of halfway believable shock as Curtis sucked in a deep breath.

His barrel chest inflated, then softened with an exhale as his namesake offered comedic relief.

“Take your time,” he said, his voice mocking an old woman’s tone.

Curtis took the teasing in stride. “Remind me to kick your ass later, boy,” he said, inducing laughter around the table. He tugged at his collar and released a nervous chuckle. “Look, we all know I’m not a words guy. Never have been. I speak when there’s something important to say. So, here I go.”

Two sips of brown liquor helped Curtis clear his glass and his mind. In the silence, Kelvin pulled Asia’s chair closer and snaked an arm around her waist. He pressed a kiss to her temple.

“Ten years ago, I met the sunshine I hadn’t seen in a long, long while. She changed my life. Things I didn’t see beauty in, she made sparkle. I fell in love before she told me her last name.” Curtis turned to Asia and reached for her hand. “She also brought me something I always wanted: a daughter.”

The skin on Asia’s arms, already warm from her lover’s embrace, seemed to scorch and travel up to the apples of her cheeks. Shock loosened the lid on her jaw, and a torrent of emotions, leaving her lips parted in a futile attempt to breathe while tears obstructed her vision. Daughter. The title felt foreign, like shoes too big or pants too small. But one she’d grow into over time.

“As much as I want your mother’s hand in marriage, I want to ask how you feel about me being your father. That is, if you’ll have me.”

Asia dabbed at her eyes and choked out a response. “Yeah. That’s cool,” she said, inviting laughter from the others. “We could do that.”

Curtis pulled Asia to her feet and enveloped her in a hug too spiritual to be characterized as mundane affection. Kelvin noticed first, his own eyes filling with water he tried to tame behind his cloth napkin and a smile. Wrapped in scotch and spice, love made itself plain in a brand-new way.

“My girl,” Curtis smiled as he pulled back to get another look at Asia’s face. “I have something for you later.”

Asia quelled her curiosity as she took her seat. Kelvin pressed a tender kiss to her forehead, hoping his actions could fill the gaps words couldn’t reach.

“Now for the easy part,” Curtis joked, a triumphant smile stretching across his face.

Martina took mock exception, a smile betraying the forced ire in her glare. “Excuse me? There is nothing easy about asking me for my hand in holy matrimony, Curtis White III!”

“Tini, you’ve been expecting this for two weeks. You just want a show.”

“I do have a flair for the dramatic,” Tini admitted, a girlish giggle in her voice. “You love it.”

Curtis reached into his pocket for the small box separating him from a new beginning. “Since you know, let’s get to the exciting stuff before they kick us out for this spectacle.”

Curtis dropped to one knee, his left knee yielding to the magic swirling around them, and retrieved the wooden box from his pocket. Words lined with promises of forever drew a crowd excited to witness true love’s reward. Joy became the night’s entrée. Hope connected strangers and family alike. Tini’s ecstatic ‘yes’ spread like wildfire, latching on to every tongue as the only acceptable answer to life’s questions.

Will you marry me? Yes!

More champagne? Yes!

Party at my place? Yes!

After the royal blue sapphire atop a dazzling gold band found its new home on Martina Scott’s left ring finger, a celebration for the happy couple found a home in the center of her living room. Too $hort blasted from Curtis’s old school sound system as family and friends across generations wiggled to the beat, holding cups of their chosen libation. Infectious energy and a hint of earthy marijuana coursed through the room with enough fervor to keep partygoers out of their seats.

From the kitchen, Asia sipped red wine and nodded along while she watched Tini learn dance moves from Christopher. Her shoulders bounced from laughter she couldn’t contain—laughter she wanted to share.

“The necklace looks nice on you. Curtis almost lost his mind looking for lab-grown stones.” Kelvin’s bright alto called goosebumps on Asia’s arm to attention as he sauntered into the kitchen from the hallway. He reached for the pendant resting on her chest and adjusted it to its proper position on the shining gold chain.

They held each other’s gaze as his touch lingered. Asia smiled. “You knew?”

“Something like that.” Mischief danced behind Kelvin’s impish grin as he reached up to pinch her cheek, inviting contagious giggling that seemed to eclipse the chaos nearby. “Why are you drinking by yourself? C’mon, let’s dance.”

“Maybe later,” Asia said, resisting Kelvin’s gentle tug toward the exit. “Can we finally have that talk? Outside?”

----

Crisp December air reminded them of the season and alcohol’s inability to act as a tangible shield despite its internal heating effect. Kelvin rushed to shed his sweater and drape it over Asia’s shoulders before pulling her close to share his body heat. His palms blazed a warm circle against her lower back as he pressed the spot to bring her flush to his chest.

He searched her face for discomfort in the dim porch light. “Warm enough?”

Asia meant to say yes. She meant to regurgitate the preamble she’d rehearsed on the ride to and from the restaurant, a soliloquy to explain herself without stumbling over words she never meant to share. Instead, she opened her mouth to speak, closed it to salvage an unexpected stammer, then blurted a sentence not in her mental script.

“I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Kelvin crinkled his brow. “Okay?”

“I mean with us. In love.” Her attempt at clarity dug a deeper pit packed to the brim with confusion. She moved to close the loop on their embrace. “Love isn’t enough. I meant that. But it’s a hell of a start. I was wrong to discredit what that meant to you, and I’m sorry. You don’t have to forgive me right now. It’s okay.”

Kelvin cut into Asia’s apology with a kiss. Gentle. Sweet. Familiar. Loving. An entire history encased in a simple act.

Her fingers found their way into his back pockets for shelter as he pulled away. He swiped at her bottom lip, clearing smudged gloss. A choice. An act of love. “I don’t want to marry you because of my parents or the Bible. To know me is to know I’ve spent every second since I turned 18 rejecting everything they’ve told me to do. You’ll have to talk to Mel about how all that works.”

His explanation swirled within the wind whipping around them, almost as a single whisper being carried miles away. He kept his gaze soft on the journey from her lips to her eyes. Photographs snapped by a brain committed to turning every interaction into a memory capture the unique peaks and valleys that made up Asia Scott.

“When we made things official, I played our lives in my head like a movie. Before you, I never considered a long-term future doing anything with anyone. I was tethered to a stool and a piano my whole childhood. I wasn’t trying to commit to one thing again, you know?”

“What’d you see?”

“You,” Kelvin said. He kissed her nose and smiled. “I saw you sitting at the table during my first big award show, you in the kitchen taking forever to cut an onion for Sunday soup, you on the other side of the bed with your big ass bonnet and your phone extra loud, watching videos.”

“I’m better now!” Asia said, laughing.

Kelvin shook his head. “No, you’re not. But that’s okay.” He leaned forward to press his forehead to hers. “The point is, I wasn’t considering a wedding or a ring. I’ve always seen the in-between. That’s what makes me want to walk beside you in life. That’s why I want to marry you. Forget words in a book or shit they say I have to do. It’s just you.”

Their bodies swayed to music that didn’t exist. Their last dance in another year of discoveries. Possibly, their first in a year already marked by understanding. Kelvin brushed his lips against her nose to taste her skin. He signed and closed his eyes.

“I know you think I have some secret answers in love. I don’t, baby. This shit is new for me, too.”

“Yeah, but you saw your parents. You know what it looks like.”

Kelvin scoffed. “My folks got married to have sex because my mom wouldn’t without a ring. There’s no telling where they’d be if they disappointed my grandparents and fucked in the backseat like everybody else.”

“Or got fingered by their coworker on the couch their first time hanging out outside of work,” Asia said, her eyebrows wiggling to induce laughter from Kelvin.

“Or that. And we’re in the same place. Everything is up to us. Right?”

“Right,” Asia conceded.

“Then we’ll do what the fuck we want!” If anyone heard his shouting in the minutes before midnight, they’d think the sound unfit for civilization. Asia, however, had never felt more certain. “Please learn with me. I love you too much not to try.”

Tini’s words sprang up from the recesses of Asia’s brain. She smiled and brought her hands up to cup Kelvin’s face. “You’re choosing me.”

“Climate catastrophe and all.” Kelvin listened to the melodies in Asia’s laughter, each note lulling him into a pit of undying passion he had no desire to climb from. Was it heaven or his demise? Rolling the dice on fate never felt more invigorating. “Do you choose me?” he asked, his voice softening and expression growing serious as he pulled her close enough to feel her heart’s pace quicken. ”I’m not asking if we’re going to the chapel tomorrow or what to name our kids. I need to know you’re choosing me the way I’m choosing you.” 

“I do.” Asia tried the words on for size, looking for warning signs in her body the way her mother and grandmother had taught her in her youth. They both paused. The words lingered, then settled without the earth shifting beneath their feet. Confirmation.

Kelvin leaned in, not caring who might see his unabashed attempt to outdo the French. Somewhere in the future, he’d thank himself for the practice. Long, deft fingers dancing past the curve of her hip for a squeeze or two on her behind may learn to stay put in front of his mother. Maybe he could clean up the suckle on her bottom lip or hold back the low groan from his throat as she pressed the point of her nails into his neck. Time afforded them the luxury of fine-tuning the details.

They teetered on inappropriate as seconds ticked closer to midnight, forgetting about their manufactured solitude until a ruckus in the house popped their bubble and reminded them of the occasion.

“We should get inside,” Asia whispered against Kelvin’s lips. “Charles is gonna come looking for you.” 

“My shoulder is so fucked up right now, babe. You don’t even know.” 

“He’s always like that. Consider it your welcome to the family.” Asia slid out of their hug to lace her fingers between Kelvin’s. “Come on. I’ll grab you a heating pad and another shot. One of them will loosen you up.” 

Pliant and willing, Kelvin allowed his lover to tug him along and lead the way inside. To add another scene to their movie. To take a step. To make a choice.

[kumkaniudaku]

Holy Matrimony (1)

Summary: Someone's getting married. Maybe.

Previous Reading: Lesson's Learned

Pairing: Kelvin Harrison Jr. x Black!OC

Word Count: 3,256

Curtis White III was ready to marry Martina Scott.

If he were honest, the thought of making her his second wife had sprouted during their third date when she ordered four different glasses of red wine because she saw an opportunity to teach him a little something about how to pair flavors. He sat across from her, a grin fighting against his usual stoic frown, and thought about how he’d tell his three sons that he’d fallen in love again after twenty years. 

Tini was a wildcard. An enigma. A Pandora’s box of personality that had enchanted him from their first hello in a kickboxing class. Sass and confidence spilled from her pores, adding fragrance to any room she graced with her sparkling presence. Three years as her beau had him ready to hear wedding bells with Tini in his life, if she would have him. The thought of her refusing his request to join as life partners started a nervous jig in his injured left knee, sending the heavy bone bouncing into the underside of the table he shared with Asia and the boyfriend whose name he couldn’t quite nail down.

The younger version of Tini sat across from Curtis, sneaking confused looks at Kelvin as they waited for Curtis to say…anything. Awkward silence surrounded the trio, turning an already strange situation into one worth escaping before the entrées hit the table.

“It’s, like, so warm outside. Crazy for the end of the year. Right, babe?”

Kelvin feigned interest to massage tension out of the air. “It’s crazy. The globe is…warming. Hot as hell.”

“Oh, maybe that’s too far. How about the weather for this week instead of climate catastrophe?” Asia said, trying to redirect the conversation.

“Yeah, but that’s important. We should have more conversations about it.”

“Not right now, though.”

“If not now, then when? We’re dying on this rock, baby.” A sharp elbow to Kelvin’s ribs knocked the wind from his lungs and sent him into a coughing, sputtering fit. “Hello!”

Asia glared back at him. “The weather! That’s it!”

Quiet bickering turned full-grown adults into children trading harsh whispers over trivial matters. Curtis regarded them with a disinterested, pensive stare before leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table.

“I want to marry your mother.”

Curtis’s admission tumbled from his lips to rest on their dinner table, smashing the tension into particles too fine to capture and piece together again.

Kelvin shifted his eyes to Asia, hoping to predicate his reaction on hers, but found her blank stare and slack jaw too drastic to share. Despite the ache against his ribcage and the shock pumping blood through his heart faster than it should, he remained levelheaded as he reached for Asia’s hand.

“You want to what?” Asia had never taken Curtis for the sentimental type. Once, for Christmas, he gifted his toolbox and a brand new set of shining hinges to handle squeaky hingeds, not the necklace and perfume oils Tini preferred.

“I want to marry your mama,” he said, his tone firm. “I didn’t want to spring it on both of y’all, so figured I’d break the news before tomorrow night. Maybe get your blessing first. If you don’t mind.” For the first time since three glasses of ice-cold water hit the table, Curtis made eye contact with Asia in a silent plea for her understanding.

Asia sat back against the booth’s leather, astonished. She expected questions about New Year’s Eve plans or the open secret that he had moved his clothes into Tini’s spare bedroom as the important news for the evening. Not this.

She huffed out nervous laughter. “Curtis, you know you don’t need that. It’s okay.”

“I know. I want it.” A faint smile teased the corner of his lips. “You’re her pride and joy. The day doesn’t move until Tini talks about her favorite chocolate chip. And I feel like I’ve watched you grow up all these years. You’re just as important to me as your mother is. It wouldn’t be right if you weren’t part of the decision.”

Kelvin smiled as he caressed Asia’s knuckles with his thumb. “That’s cool, man. Don’t let the whole climate change thing stop you. I was just talking shit. You know the news says it’s a hoax anyway.” Asia cut her eyes at her talkative boyfriend, earning a mouthed apology.

“Well, thank you. You have my blessing. I’m serious.” Through her shock, Asia tried to imagine a world where Curtis didn’t exist beside her mother and saw nothing. He was a bastion of stability. Who better to ask for her mother’s hand in marriage? “Why now? It’s been forever, and you both sounded happy just to be together. You know Mama’s cool if you don’t, right?”

“I love her.” Asia and Kelvin saw the pure adoration in his smile as all the explanation neccessary. Curtis let his grin grow into a full smile. “Most of my days are behind me now, but I’ll be damned if Tini doesn’t make the ones ahead worth it. If I don’t ask, regardless of what she says back to me, I couldn’t live with myself.”

“I feel that.” 

Kelvin shared a knowing look with Curtis. He understood better than anyone what it meant to have a Scott woman turn a mundane existence into one worth living.

Heat washed over Asia’s body when she caught Kelvin slipping into a contemplative daze while his thumb caressed her ring finger. She looked back at Curtis and smiled. “That’s really sweet, Curtis. Add that to the proposal.” Emotions welled in Asia’s eyes, threatening an appearance she beat back by distracting her mind with other thoughts. “Do you have the ring? Can I see it?”

“Yeah, I got her a little something. Not much, but…” Curtis let his explanation fall away into nothing as he fished around inside the front pocket of his trousers for a wooden box. Smooth, dark oak gleamed under dim lighting, adding dimension to the ornate carvings forming a simple Swahili phrase. He reached across the table to present his treasure to Asia. “The boy at that apothecary Tini goes to says it means ‘Will you marry me?’ but that negro would lie with his hand on the Bible. Can’t trust nobody doing taxes in the back of their herbal shop.”

“No, no! That’s right,” Asia confirmed as she ran her fingers against the grooves. “For whatever reason, it’s the first word I learned when she made me take lessons in ninth grade. It’s the only one I remember. And the curse words.”

“Should’ve taken you with me then, Chip. Lord knows I could’ve saved one of my shirts from all the sweating I did if I had you around.” Curtis laughed.

Kelvin sat as an outsider, a smile spreading across his face in tandem with Asia’s as he took a mental snapshot of the moment unfolding before him. Father and daughter. Years playing second fiddle to his own father’s pride and joy had taught him much about the intricacies of such a sacred dynamic. He’d seen it, felt it, and marveled at the love up close. Watching Asia and Curtis felt like a special déjà vu, too beautiful to interrupt. So, he remained quiet and grateful as Curtis urged Asia to provide her opinion.

“Go on. Open it. I want to know what you think.”

Asia took a deep breath, her eyes focused on the small secret in her hands, then carefully lifted the lid. Inside, a sapphire stone cut into the perfect pear stunned Asia into a gasp. Her fingers caressed the thin gold band, allowing the cold metal to remind her she was real. This wasn’t a dream destined for interruption when the alarm clock blared its sad song.

She turned the box to Kelvin, her mouth agape to match his growing surprise. “This shit is crazy, right! Tell me this isn’t insane.”

“I’ll marry you if she says no. We can make it work. China tell you I can cook? How you like your steak, man?”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Asia interjected to stop Kelvin’s impending rant from growing legs. “It’s beautiful. If I know anything about Mama, this is exactly what she’d draw up if you could convince her to spend five minutes talking about marriage and weddings.” She gazed down at the stone, smiling through flashes of almost forgotten memories. Tears pricked the inner corners of her eyes as a silent threat to spill emotions she preferred to keep under lock and key. Two quick blinks and a quick breath pulled her unspooling feelings back into their neat, hidden box before she looked up at Curtis. “She’s gonna love it.”

Curtis breathed a sigh of relief. “You think so? It’s not too flashy?”

“Nothing is too flashy for Martina Scott. She loves a dollar spent!”

“Mm, sounds like somebody else I know.” Kelvin added a sweet kiss to Asia’s cheek to soften his sarcasm, earning an eye roll. He spoke against her cheek. “And I’ll spend every penny when the time comes.”

Mischief sparkled in Curtis’s dark brown eyes as he reached to retrieve the ring box from Asia’s outstretched hand. “What’s the plan? It’s been, what, four years?”

Three years, eight months, six days, and a few hours if Kelvin’s mental math was right. At least that’s about what he told his father when he visited to beg for his Grand-mère’s coveted diamond ring months ago. Under dim moonlight, with cigar smoke swirling in the balmy air and burning his lungs, Kelvin laid out his case for inheriting the family heirloom and how he’d put it to good use. Talks of fated love and a promise to be the man they raised tumbled from his lips as his father chuckled along.

“You love the girl. That’s enough, son. No need for the theatrics.” Senior’s plain response sparked embers of rage inside Kelvin before a tidal wave of rational thought doused the growing flames. It was enough. Love kept him kind. It kept him committed and dutiful. Love turned faults into opportunities for deeper connection. Love convinced his father to turn over the silver ring that had seen decades of loving couples dare to join in holy matrimony.

And love produced a broad smile as Kelvin sat up straight to answer Curtis.

“Something like that,” he started before reaching for Asia. She slipped her fingers from his grasp to grab hold of her water glass. “Obviously, I can’t say much, but—”

“Where’s this happening? The house? You got some place rented? Mama loves that little Italian spot in Midtown. It’s so nice inside. Where is our food?”

Rushed questions and empty sentiments swirled around the trio, filling the small booth with enough frantic energy to induce a coughing fit from Curtis. Kelvin struggled with a foreign emotion as he watched Asia fiddle with silverware on the table to avoid making eye contact. Love had convinced him they were on the verge of forever. But love hadn’t relayed the message to his better half.

His shoulders slumped under the weight of defeat as Curtis fought through his hacking to fill the awkward silence. “Yeah, yeah,” he answered between sips from his water. “I got a plan. Let me run it by you to see what you think.”

Time and conversations around them blurred into background chatter flitting between Kelvin’s ears as he poked holes into food he no longer had the stomach to consume. He allowed his face to betray the turmoil whipping a storm made of big feelings, offering a weak smile and passive responses when prompted, until Asia’s apartment provided enough privacy to drop the charade.

As Asia split her attention between combining serums in her skincare routine and debriefing on their shared secret, Kelvin rested atop her bed with a crestfallen stare, directing his eyes toward the sky to watch the ceiling fan’s endless revolutions.

“So, like, I’m not a fan of the red velvet blazer, and I know my mom’s gonna hate it, but it’s his moment too, you know? You can wear something ugly on your big day if you like it. I’d tell you later, though. I’m not worried you would wear something ugly, but if you did, I’d tell you after.”

Kelvin rolled his eyes. “Thanks for being honest, babe.”

“Of course. It’s why you love me.” All traces of her partner’s sarcasm melted into nothing while Asia examined the mountain of suds covering her face. “I can’t believe this is happening. Married! That’s nuts. No one in this family gets married except my uncle. He gets married once a decade.”

“What a family tradition. Beautiful, really.”

A second dose of humorless retorts made Asia frown as she wiped away her cleanser. “Damn. Excuse me for not growing up in a two-parent home with great examples. Everybody ain’t able, Deacon.”

“Asia. You know that’s not what I meant,” Kelvin said, trying to explain his crude remark. When silence answered his covert plea for forgiveness, he sat up in bed. “I didn’t mean it like that, baby.”

“Well, that’s what I heard. Kill it before we argue away the only weekend we have this month.”

Kelvin let her advice silence their burgeoning back-and-forth for a moment. The pact to quash arguments during visits had served them well, turning dust-ups into apologies before harsh words could enter the atmosphere. But as latent feelings continued bubbling beneath the surface, he pushed convention to the back burner and stood to approach the bathroom door.

Asia pretended not to notice the shadow looming in her periphery. She’d spend the rest of the night in silence to prove a point if needed. Apologizing remained out of the question as far as she was concerned.

Kelvin watched her work with keen focus, trying to decipher her mood. When his analysis came back empty, he dove into uncharted waters headfirst.

“Do you…want to get married?” His question seemed to fall on deaf ears.

Asia’s discomfort remained behind a stony expression as she dropped serum on her cheeks. “I don’t know, babe. I don’t think about it.”

“You don’t think about it? Like ever?”

“Why would I? You just talked about my shitty upbringing. No dad. Flighty mom until I was eighteen. Crazy ass family. You got it all figured out. Don’t start a fight for fun.”

“I’m not—” Blood pulsed at Kelvin’s temples, clouding his vision. He sucked in clean air and exhaled into his fist before attempting a response. “We’ve been doing this for damn near four years. You telling me marriage never crossed your mind? Not even once?”

A slow blink to coral emotions brimming at her waterline helped Asia compose herself. “What should I say, Kelvin?”

“I want you to say that you love me! That you want this forever. Is that scary to say, or do you not feel it? Because if you don’t feel that, then what the fuck are we doing? Where are we going?”

“What’s wrong with where we are? Why are we always going somewhere?” She asked, waving her hands around at nothing.

“What?!” The pulsing returned with more fury. Kelvin stepped further into the bathroom to pace behind Asia. “Are you serious? You’re asking why we should consider marriage? That’s stupid.”

Asia whipped her body around to face him. Anger radiated from her entire being. “Yeah, I am, actually. All I ever hear is how it’s what’s supposed to happen. You tell me what your mom says, what your dad wants, what the Bible says, but you never tell me what Kelvin thinks. I’m supposed to go along with an abstract thought, blindly following you like a good little girlfriend. Fuck that. Give me an actual answer or cut this out.”

“Is me loving you not enough?!”

“No!” 

The simple phrase bounced off each wall, tearing through mounting tension like a bullet tears through flesh. Kelvin felt his chest tighten as breath caught in his throat. A tear met the back of Asia’s hand to hide an emotional response.

She closed her eyes to speak. “Love is just a feeling. You can love me today and leave tomorrow. It’s not enough to sustain a marriage, Kel. When you see that, we can discuss the future. Until then, I’m going to bed. Join me or find a spot on the couch.”

Defeat sounded like the bathroom door clicking shut, the soft sound intermixing with Asia’s words still ringing in Kelvin’s mind. Solitude reminded him to release the breath he’d been holding out of fear he’d say something he could take back. The overhead fluorescent light helped the water droplets clinging to the mirror blaze a path clear enough for his reflection to peek through. Confusion and contemplation morphed into something he didn’t recognize. Shame? Sadness? Guilt in knowing at least some of what she’d leveled upon him was true?

Love is just a feeling.

The word he’d used as a baseline for all his convictions was only a fleeting emotion in Asia’s world. He felt the wind abandon his sails, sending him adrift in the sea of thoughts governing his brain. Cold porcelain attempted to shock his system into action as he leaned against the sink for support.

Blindsided. He’d only experienced total surprise once in his life, and even that didn’t return his pride to him in a crumpled heap. Asia’s pragmatism had dashed the hopes and dreams of a whimsical ego, leaving him to pick up the pieces alone.

“Love is just a feeling. You can love me today and love someone else tomorrow. It’s not enough to sustain a marriage.”

He mulled over the words until thinking felt like painful pinpricks against his active brain. He wanted to fight. Not to argue and shout, but to grab hold of their differences and mold them into common ground until they were traveling in the same direction. But the inner storm seeping into his tired eyes stole any will to fight left inside him. He settled into defeat with a sigh before generating enough strength to turn off the bathroom light and slink out into the darkness awaiting him in the bedroom.

Slivers of moonlight slipping through the blinds and sheer curtains illuminated the stiff lump occupying Asia’s usual spot. He noticed her shoulders’ slow rise and fall come to an abrupt halt when he entered the room and allowed himself a half smile as he slid into bed behind her. Temptation to fall into familiar patterns halted his inclination to pull her back into his front and tuck his nose into her neck. His hand hovered over her waist in a tentative dance before restraint wrestled it back to his side.

Awkward, stilted breathing filled the gaps between the ceiling fan’s low whoosh while stubborn adults played cat and mouse in the darkness. Minutes slowed to a muddy creep. The invisible barrier between them introduced a special torture. Unblinking stares into the abyss stole sleep like an expert thief.

Then, a breach. Manicured nails crossed their invisible divider, feeling around in the dark for a hand almost as familiar as her own. Kelvin allowed Asia to intertwine their fingers before pulling him closer until his arm draped across her midsection. They exhaled in tandem, serotonin coursing through their veins to soothe untamed emotions.

Kelvin settled further into their embrace before dropping a kiss onto her shoulder. “Give me a chance to make it plain to you. That’s all I ask. Don’t shut me out.”

“Get some rest, Kel. Good night.”

[saturnville]

Asia….Kelvin….

[kumkaniudaku]

Kelvin, Asia, and a New Year's Eve proposal? What could go wrong?

Holy Matrimony (1)

Holy Matrimony (2)

TAGS: @planetblaque @wvsspoppin @thatone-girly @avoidthings @slutsareteacherstoo @eilujion @amyhennessyhouse @yaachtynoboat711 @jenlovey @pinkpantheris @blowmymbackout @onherereading @becauseimswagman1 @thiccc-c @forzaferrariii@urfavblackbimbo @blackburnbook @ashanti-notthesinger @xo-goldengirl @ariiijestertheklown @blyffe @tvchi @wabi-sabi1090 @flydotty @aldrigmer444 @ash-ketchumzzz @nayaesworld @ms-mosley-ifunastyyy @writingsbytee @teddybeerz @trippyscotch @theogbadbitch @thevelvetwhispers @wowitsafemale @kindofaintrovert @sexysativa605 @jvzmine19 @turn-thy-paige @lapateeserie @simplyzeeka @supremechae@redacted519 @itsash-okay @sparklytemi @blackchickinthedesert @miyuhpapayuh @bigmooodyjudy @slowly-blue-coffee

[saturnville]

HOW DID I MISS THIS?! Im so sat

[notapradagurl]

and….action!

Black Fem!Actress! Reader x Kelvin Harrison Jr.

Summary: You were featured in a pioneering black romance movie alongside Aaron and Kelvin, completed the promotional course and interviews, but felt exhausted, all while dating Kelvin. You both finally reached the limo and chose to ease the pressure on him once it halted and arrived at your house.

A/N: Here is a better khjr. fic for ya’ll hope you enjoy my loves, ☺️ don't forget to leave comments, likes and reblogs are welcome to support, drop a request if you like, they're always open!🫡 let me know if you want a part 2!

Warnings: praise, car sex, fingers in mouth, exhibitionist kink, fingering(fem receiving), oral(m), dirty talk, slight voyeurism, consensual for both parties, kissing, unprotected sex, drunk sex, cussing, let me know if I missed any.

Taglist: @megamindsecretlair @satoruya @planetblaque

@playgurlxoxo @babybratzmaraj

@becauseimswagman1

@superheroprincess22 @pocketsizedpanther @beenathembo @brattyfics

@hxneyclouds @kaylalb @yassbishimvintage @blackgrImagic

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes @nayaesworld @ovohanna24

@novahreign @writingsbytee @avoidthings @kimuzostar @slippinninque @keyera-jackson @theblacklewinsky

@euphorichappiness10 @life-in-the-slut-house @miguelspvssy @liatreads @kaylaahisthebestest-@tforpresz

@uniqueoutlierblog 

@dxddykenn @dpennedit

@secretlifeoofmarpessa

@westside-rot @mymindisneverhere

@mind-somewhere-else

@kindofaintrovert @aquarising03

@5starr-staciii @pickuptruck01 @henneseyhoe @irlvampfairy

@browngirldominion @madamedantes

@chaoticcoffeequeen

@valarghoulis @jazziejax

@saturnville

@enchantedillumination

@kaylalb @mogul93

@uzumaki-rebellion @lady-olive-oil @23jammy

@zillasvilla

@yassbishimvintage 

—————

Sitting between Aaron and Kelvin in the seats, in front of the camera and your brown eyes locked on the interviewer and asked you, and your castmates Aaron and Kelvin about the movie, you fake smiled and nodded. It’s been hours and hours, of interviews, talk shows, photoshoots, talking with your manager Leona and bodyguard Felix to make sure you're good.

But this was exhausting mentally and physically, you knew that this part came with the entertainment industry but the fame part was difficult, deranged and delusional, stalker fans, toxic gossip blogs ready to get something on you. The worst part was no privacy when it came to certain things.

“Y/N, how does it feel to be in an award-nominated and award-winning film with Kelvin, and Aaron?” The interviewer asked, using a bright tone.

“It feels great to be in this film beside these two, showing the right ways to tackle certain topics that are spoken about enough, you feel that my character Nia is conflicted and chooses the one who’s been yearning for her all along, it’s reminded us that she’s human,” You spoke with confidence, smiling again. Your cheeks ached in pain.

You’ve been acting for seven years, your film credits have expanded significantly, and you’ve won Emmys and an Oscar by the age of 31. Hobnobbing with your favorite stars like Angela Bassett, who inspired your dream.

You were picky when it came to roles in Hollywood, the reboots, remakes, sequels and constant shady, predatory directors, asshole producers, and stuck and entitled managers. 

But you finally your manager Leona, who was the best in the business. You preferred working with a black women, you felt safe, seen, and protected properly by her. You had to do so much on your own but it took a toll on you. 

You've made it, you were proud of yourself. You had a black-owned production, management team. 

You starred in a black romance movie titled More To Love, which revolves around two close friends employed at a black-owned law firm. In the story, they handle legal cases, and things take a turn when your ex, portrayed by Aaron, arrives to propose. Your character named Nia never forgot how much her ex hurt you from heartbreak and betrayal, so your character pretend to be with your colleague Kelvin. 

It was very similar to your story when you began dating in high school, Aaron played the role so well and it made you not speak to him, you explained to him that the story was personal to you. Aaron understood completely, shared the same story as you and he apologized. 

As the interviewer continued to throw questions your way and Kelvin’s, you could feel the weight of the promotional duties pressing down on you. Your cheeks ached from the forced smiles, and you stole a glance at Kelvin, who flashed you a reassuring grin. It was a momentary distraction from the barrage of queries.

You wore a black knee-length dress that exposed your back paired with black heels, French tip nails with gold rings, and your natural curls pulled up in a cute bun. Your plump lips are adorned with lip gloss, and Your dark brown skin beautifully shines. 

Kelvin and Aaron were matching with you, wearing the classic black suits, with white tee shirts, and black pants without ties, thin gold chains draped around their necks while diamond stud earrings hung in their ears.

They were so handsome, and the size difference was cute, Aaron was much taller in person though. Was Aaron a Greek god in another life? You wouldn't be surprised.

“Y/N, do you think the film accurately portrays modern black relationships?” the interviewer chimed in, his voice smooth and inviting.

“Absolutely, the film highlights the complexities and intricacies that many couples face today. Not just about love, but heartbreak and understanding,” you replied, your voice steady and calm.

As the interview wrapped up, you felt a rush of relief. You stepped out of the studio and outside to the lane that led to the red carpet, the rush of the day almost dissipating.

“Great work, we’re getting to the finish line,” Aaron spoke up, nodding.

“Yeah, we did,” You sighed until the both of them noticed that you looked exhausted. Burn out approaching.

“You okay baby?” Kelvin asked concerned, his brows raising.

You shake your head, “No, sweetie. I’m tired as hell,” 

Kelvin rubbed your back in the soothing circle, the feel of his hand and the cold chill from the gold metal of his ring sent a shiver down your spine. 

“It’s going to be alright, once we’re done with this red carpet, we’ll be heading home after that okay?” Kelvin reassured you softly, kissing your cheek.

You nodded, biting down on your lip as you gazed upon the man, he smelled good with the scent of cinnamon and citrus. Your hand rested on the back of his neck, your thumb swiped over. He groaned lowly.

Regrettably, the gossip and dating scene have been lacking recently; you vowed to avoid dating celebrities because of all the negative press surrounding them, as they tend to be deceitful and dishonest.

Until your best friend, Nia introduced you to Kelvin Harrison Jr. and Aaron Pierre, others would assume that you were dating Aaron but you explained repeatedly that you were just friends, nothing more.

Kelvin had his eyes on the moment he met you, and he wasn't like the rest, he was funny, kind, patient and charismatic. 

The better you got to know him, the closer you became, transforming the typical friends-to-lovers storyline from the film you acted in into something genuine in real life—who would have thought?

The three of you stepped toward the red carpet laid out for you, a fence in front of you to block paparazzi from stepping too close, Kelvin and Aaron stayed between you, he held your hand. 

Your anxiety fell silent amidst of the overlapping chatter of the paparazzi, bright flickering lights from every corner and Kelvin’s thumb swiped over your palm. Exhaling through your fake smile, almost there to the finish line like Aaron. 

Relax, you said in the depths of your mind. It almost suffocating from amount of things happening all at once. Your cheeks on your face ached again, your mom did tell you that if you kept that face, it would freeze up like that.

Was she just messing with you? Yeah, she definitely was. You resumed walking close with Kelvin along the velvet red carpet as you peeped at the waiting limo at the end of the carpet rope. So close.

Until you were stopped by someone in the paparazzi, fuck, you were so close. They annoyed the hell of you A LOT. The fact they get paid a huge amount of money for this should be a crime.

“Show us some love!” a photographer shouted out with enthusiasm.

Next thing you know, Aaron strode past the two of you before winking at you while Kelvin’s hand snaked from your back to around your waist, wrapped around you like a warm blanket on a snow day.

“I’ve got you, don't worry,” Kelvin said in a reassuring tone, smiling at you as you mirrored the warm action.

The warmth of Kelvin’s body against yours caused your heart to flutter, his touch made you feel safe, protected from everything and everyone out there, especially in Hollywood, another destructive, soul-sucking world that you heard of, seen in documentaries, scary Lifetime movies, tv shows, the news.

A series of crazy shit flying around and you refused to catch it, you couldn't. You've worked too diligently and consistently to get where you are today.

That is definitely what everyone feels, you couldn't be like them. 

Kelvin’s head turned towards you, leaning in close before you did, his plump lips brushed against yours, pressing his onto yours gently. You kissed him back passionately after pulling away from each other.

“We’ve got a new star couple!” someone shouted in glee, you couldn't help but mentally roll your eyes. Here we go.

That was the big announcement from the two of you and to the world.

You were dating Kelvin secretly until the two of you had the conversation of not wanting to be a secret anymore, people had a lot to say, and celebrity relationships won’t last long, in and out like a drive-thru. Cheating, sex scandals, some weird cult shit, or some connection to Illuminati.

Aaron, your manager Leona, and your bodyguard Felix were the only people who knew. 

But you didn't let what other people say or think, or do kill your joy, Kelvin and you were happy with each other, that is what mattered most. 

“I'll see you lovebirds later,” Aaron spoke up, waving goodbye to you.

You waved back in response, smiling at Aaron with a head tilt. He was so sweet, you focused on the cameras flashing before winking at the camera.

At this point, when is it going to be over? It had to be.

You walked through the strobing lights of the cameras, moving from side to side in those same painful heels. With a forced smile for the photographers and your boyfriend by your side, you were nearing the limousine.

“Time to leave, beautiful,” he whispered in your ear, gently guiding you toward the sleek, black limo.

“Thank God,” you whispered back, turning to face him, walking toward the door as Kelvin opened the door.

You ducked your head and settled into the plush suede backseat of the limo with its tinted deep windows, which was spacious and the color of ink black for the seats and the car floor below your heels were soft as a cloud, the color of macaroon cream. 

Kelvin ducked his head and settled onto the suede backseat beside you, grinning at you like he was ready to eat you out in the backseat as he shut the door behind himself. “Glad that’s over and done with, now I can focus on you,” he said, his tone low and seductive.

You chuckled lightly, biting down your lips, clenching your legs before opening the door to the refrigerator and grabbing a champmage botte, “I need a drink first before I deal with your nasty ass,” you shot back using a sinful smirk.

The limo had buttons atop your heads, for the white florescent lights including a small refrigerator for drinks, water bottles, champagne, and wine. 

He grabbed the glasses and passed one to you, before kissing your lips again, the taste of strawberry lips gloss adorned his lips, your thumb carefully rubbed it off. He groaned at your touch, damn he was in love with you.

You were 100% sure that Kelvin was so smitten with you, he indeed was. 

“My nasty ass?” Kelvin asked in a tone as if he was shocked, his hand resting on the armrest.

“Yeah, you heard me right, Mr. Harrison. All those kisses on the red carpet, I can't help but feel like you're trying to stake your claim,” You laughed, pouring the champagne into the glasses. 

Kelvin raised an eyebrow, leaning closer, his voice dropping an octave. “And what if I am? You’re mine, Y/N. And I'm yours, You know that, right?”

You felt heat rise to your cheeks as you took a sip of the bubbly drink. “I do know that, but let’s not forget that the limo driver is watching us, he’s probably a pervert,” you whispered back.

Until you suddenly realize that the limo driver was a woman, her brown skin and brown eyes go with her makeup, her lush lips in red lipstick, giving you a reassuring smile through the rearview mirrors. The limo peeled away from the event, gliding smoothly onto the road where your destination was.

“Oh, you didn't? I'm so glad that she’s a woman but you never know these days,” You mentioned with a shrug.

“Agreed, I'm not sure about how long this drive so how about we make the most of it? Hm?” Kelvin asked with a soft hum, shrugging.

The two of you finished your drinks, feeling the buzz of the drink flow through you, “Yeah, how about we try an exhibitionist kink that I want to do?” You suggested to him.

The sleek limo began to take a gentle turn to the right, going through the bright towering lights and passing through other cars, paying them no mind, as if you two were the only ones in the world. 

Kelvin nodded, it was something that he never thought he’d do but with you, he wanted to try it. Just thought of it turned him on. An idea popped up in his head.

“Just imagine…there’s the driver named uh…Kendra watching us and the cameras few inches away from us, and here we are,” Kelvin replied in a seductive time.

You grinned at the man before kissing down his neck, “You’re bad, huh?” you said to him.

“Only for you, baby, but what do you want to do first?” Kelvin asked with that sinful grin, kissing your lips again.

His fingers trailing over your arm and shivered from his touch, with your hand snaked below his pants before stopping, “Can I suck your dick while the driver watches? Just a taste Kel?” you whispered softly in his ear.

His breath hitched from your voice, and he nodded at you. “Y/N..yes you can, don't make me beg,” he sighed blissfully with a smirk. He was in for a treat from you, he didn't even know it yet.

And with his consent, you unzipped his zipped and gently slid down his boxers and pants a little bit, kissing his tip before wrapping your mouth around his thick, long brown dick, his arms rested on the armrest of the limo. 

His tongue gliding over his lips, he groaned loudly once you bopped your head onto his dick, your tongue tracing shapes on the veins, he knew you looked so gorgeous doing this, “Fuck…so beautiful, suck it harder..” Kelvin panted heavily, his head fell back onto the soft cushion. 

“Mmm..so good,” you mumbled lowly, your hand stroking him with your fingers rolling between his balls, he grunted once he locked eyes with the female limo driver. The soft slurping and squelching sounds filled the car, the warmth of your mouth spurred him one. 

“That mouth of yours..is perfect, I couldn't resist you, seeing you walk down that carpet…fuck!” Kelvin shouted out, pushing his hip upwards.

Your palm stroked Kelvin's dick with your cheeks hollowing around him as spit dripped from the corner of her lips, spit stuck to your hand and tricked down to his balls, "Fuck..Y/N.." he groaned deeply, his hands gripping the armrest tightly, You moaned around him, sending vibrations through his body. 

“It’s turning me on when you suck this dick, the driver is watching us…that feels so fucking good,” Kel moaned again, hearing your muffled moans in response, filling that exhibitionist side of you once the driver’s eyes flickered back to Kelvin.

You bopped your head faster and your cheeks hollowed harder, wetting his dick and seats up, covered with drops of precum and spit. Staining his pants, your dress. Good thing both of you wore black, “Just like that! Shit!” 

His balls tightened in response around your fingers, Kelvin’s mouth parted as you twisted your hand around his dick, squeezing it lightly. “Shit!….Shit!…Y/N, please!” he begged for you, he gasped as if he lost oxygen in his lungs. 

Finally, he reached it, Kelvin's hot cum spilling into your mouth, you quickly swallowed every drop while you lifted you head, 

“It was good wasn't it?” You bragged with confidence, Smiling and using a warm towel from the edge to clean your mouth, you tossed it into the trash. You put his dick back into his boxers, he zipped them up, and pulled up his pants.

Before you could reply, his hand settled on the back of your neck, drawing you in. He kissed you passionately and intensely, and as you returned the kiss, you let out a moan. When you finally pulled away, a strand of saliva connected your lips and his.

“That was amazing, baby, my turn,” Kelvin sang playfully, giving you an tender kiss as you moaned, your pussy from his touch.

More friction, desperately.

You leaned in, “Touch me, please,” you whimpered softly, giving him consent to touch you. 

His fingers grazed the edge of your dress as Kelvin planted kisses on your collarbone, marking your deep brown skin with hickeys. “K-Kelvin…” you moaned again, His fingers slipped beneath your panties, sensing your wetness through the fabric, humming softly in response against your shoulder.

“I couldn't leave my girl like this, so wet just from sucking my shit off?” Kelvin asked in a deep tone, his voice deepening. His finger rubbing your clit. “Y-yeah, I-it was big, couldn't fit it all..” you groaned before moving your hips. No teasing was a rule of yours, but Kelvin’s hand slid through your panties, pinching your clit.

He pushed your panties to the side, and rolled them down and off your ankles. You parted your legs wide for him, while gazing into his eyes, “You’re so fucking nasty, girl,” he groaned softly, his legs parted a bit.

His fingers parted your folds and slipped inside with ease, making you moan wildly, causing Kendra to look back at him but she paid attention to the road still. “Shhh, I got you, my girl’s been stressed out?” he said, his lips nibbling on your bottom lip, the taste of wine and lip gloss.

“Kel..fuck!” you cried out, rolling your hips to that torturous pace, your arms wrapped around his shoulders tight, he must've told the driver to take the long way, your essence poured onto the seats, as he gently pulled the strings of your dress, your breasts poked out. He licked his lips.

“Beautiful titties,” he mumbled, his hands cupping your breasts softly, pinching your nipples roughly before sucking the right softly. “Mhhm..” you hummed but moaned, you’d almost forgotten that you were still in the limo, you definitely needed this. Your hand rested on the back of his nape, feeling that comforting warmth.

In need of his touch as if it was religious, you hoped to your ancestors and God above that Kendra kept driving, eventually you would get home later, you need more. 

His fingers thrust in and out of you, he watched your face scrunch up in pleasure, he pressed your back to his clothed chest. “I love it when you make a fucking mess on my fingers, I can't wait to feel it on my dick,” He teased, curling up his fingers. He was so nasty, so passionate. His dick hardens in his pants.

“I..i..I love this shit with you, so much, get deeper for me papa,” You babbled softly, panting while moving your hips a bit. Your hands gripped the armrest, Kelvin was still behind you, keeping you close so you wouldn't hurt yourself.

“Oh shit! Shit! Kelvin!” you moaned suddenly once his fingers slid in deeper, your wet walls clenched tightly around his digits. Your wetness covered him completely and stained his pants but didn’t care.

The limo resumed driving straight again, while the little bumps on the roads made every sensation. Your pussy sucked his fingers right back in and clenched tight, “That’s right, you feel it? That pussy sucked me back in..fuck,” Kelvin groaned raspily, biting down his lip, You gasped, feeling the rhythm of his fingers and the warmth of his body pressed against yours. 

The thrill of being in a moving vehicle, with the driver just a few feet away, was pulling you close to the edge. You were so close, but you weren't ready to go home; he pressed his bulge against you and moved his hips, “Don't see what you do to me?” Kelvin groaned as he felt your ass against him, giving your backside a playful smack that made you moan, clearly turned on by you.

His thumb flattened on your clit and circled, your mind blurred from pleasure and saw thousands of stars behind your closed eyelids, you were moaning loudly as his fingers went faster. “That pussy knows me so well,” Kelvin teased with a grin.

“You’re so good to me, just a little more baby,” You begged, your voice softened a bit, his fingers hit that sweet spot. Moving in a ‘come here’ motion over and over. “I got you,”

You nodded, feeling the tension build within you, the pressure mounting as he resumed to thrust his fingers, in and out, curling them just right to hit that sweet spot. “You drive me crazy, I'm gone fuck you so good when we get in that house,” 

After his fingers turned sporadic and curled again, you felt yourself clench around his fingers. Waves crashing over you as you cried out his name, “Kelvin!” 

He slowed his movements, letting you ride out the waves of your orgasm, feeling you pulse around him. The rush of it left you breathless, and you leaned back against his chest, panting as the aftershocks coursed through you.

“Damn, you’re beautiful when you cum,” he murmured, planting soft kisses along your shoulder and lips, sending little sparks of electricity through your body.

You turned to face him, still catching your breath. “You’re not too bad yourself,” you teased, a playful smile creeping onto your lips. 

Kelvin chuckled, the sound low and rich, filling the quiet space of the limo. “I love you,” he said, he pulled out his fingers, watching you tie up the strings in the back of your dress. 

“I love you too,” you agreed, stealing a quick kiss from him, feeling the warmth radiating between you.

As the car slowed down, you could see the lights of your house glowing in the distance. “Looks like we're almost home,” you said, a hint of reluctance in your voice.

“That was fun, I liked that,” Kelvin replied, grinning like it was his birthday and he enjoyed his present. His eyes are still on you.

You nodded, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks, “Yeah, I liked it too,” you said, that shy side coming out.

The limo finally came to a stop, and the driver turned to look at you both. “We’ve arrived,” she announced with a knowing smile, as if she understood the connection that had just blossomed between you two.

“Thanks, Kendra,” you said, feeling a bit shy as you realized the driver had witnessed more than just a simple kiss.

Kelvin opened the door, helping you out as you stepped onto the pavement. The cool night air hit your skin, and you shivered slightly, but Kelvin wrapped his arm around you, pulling you close again. He closed the door and let Kendra that he pay her immediately, apologizing for the mess on the seats.

“Let’s get inside,” he said, his tone both playful and protective.

Once inside, you closed the door behind yourself. Kelvin brought you into the bedroom, removing his suit as you peeled off your dress. He quickly kissed you, your lips meeting.  Your legs spread, he buried his dick inside you. His hands on your hips.

“My beautiful girl,” he groaned softly.

And with that, he made love to you all night long, distrubing your neighbors who obviously sent a nose complaint but you knew Kelvin would talk care of it. Your moans echoed through the walls, he kissed your shoulder and said, “Fuck ‘em, you can scream as loud as you want to,” 

————

[mamasturn]

tyriq withers & co | masterlist

Tyriq Withers

Phases of Exploration (Series) - It's been 7 years since Selah was in a relationship. Now, 7 years later, Selah is exploring the phases of intimacy with a new lover.

I Might Be In Love With You - When Selah realized she was in love with Tyriq.

Lay With Me - Tyriq is always there to lift Selah's spirit.

From the Beginning - Tyriq reminisces on the first time he saw Selah.

Christmas Eve — In which it’s their first Christmas holiday as Mr. and Mrs. Withers.

Finally Over It - In which two hearts become one.

Sneak (18+) - Some lines shouldn’t be crossed. Some temptations shouldn’t be touched. She broke both anyway

Yes, It Is - She enjoyed the cat-and-mouse game. He liked to play along, until he didn't.

On It, In It (18+) - He has to prove he’s deserving of experiencing her on it.

Cameron Cade

Cater 2 U - Anything to serve her man, she’ll do, because he deserves it.

Love and Other Things (18+) - Before she was Naomi Sinclair-Cade, she was Naomi Sinclair. A woman in love with a man she didn’t know would love her back.

Beauty - Four times Cameron wanted her to be his woman, and the one time she agreed.

But, I Love You - In which Cameron learns the important of being attentive to his wife.

Pur For Me - He enjoys hearing the sounds she makes.

Right Place, Right Time - Cameron Cade becomes infatuated with Serenity and is determined to become her man, one way or another.

Better Version - After years of being in an unfulfilling relationship, Aniyah finds herself dreaming of a better version of her man.

Teddy Spencer

Back To Your Place - It'd been 3 years since Teddy and Mo crossed paths. On a special anniversary, they cross paths again, and old feelings resurface.

In Those Jeans - Since Mo returned to Southport, she and Teddy have been inseparable. Tensions rise and boil over at what was meant to be an innocent family event.

Care — Mo will always be there for her man.

Completed - In which two hearts are reunited once again.

[saturnville]

In the meantime…

[kodakbesos]

can we bring back the kelvin harrison jr. hype??? there is a serious drought😔

[saturnville]

I’ve put the pen to paper. Let’s see when I can get it done