EMMY’s LIST <3
chronic fics about your favs dropping to their knees for you!
Terry Richmond.
Jaded. [ Pt. 1, Pt. 2 & Pt. 3]
Perfect Gentleman.
Bunny & Her Man. [ Pt. 1 & Pt. 2]
Helpful Neighbors. Taken Care Of.
more to come soon.. <3
Sade Olutola

Product Placement
Show & Tell
trying on a metaphor
d e v o n
Peter Solarz

Andulka

blake kathryn
tumblr dot com

shark vs the universe
KIROKAZE

@theartofmadeline

No title available
Xuebing Du
cherry valley forever
Mike Driver
RMH

PR's Tumblrdome
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda

pixel skylines
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from Malaysia

seen from Mexico
seen from Hong Kong SAR China

seen from Canada

seen from Germany
seen from United States

seen from Malaysia

seen from Malaysia

seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom

seen from Russia
seen from Mexico
seen from Germany

seen from Malaysia

seen from Malaysia

seen from Malaysia
seen from United States

seen from Malaysia
@theblacklewinsky
EMMY’s LIST <3
chronic fics about your favs dropping to their knees for you!
Terry Richmond.
Jaded. [ Pt. 1, Pt. 2 & Pt. 3]
Perfect Gentleman.
Bunny & Her Man. [ Pt. 1 & Pt. 2]
Helpful Neighbors. Taken Care Of.
more to come soon.. <3
Working on this Creasy fic and I don't know if I like it 🫣
And every single Met I’ll remind you all of the late Chadwick Boseman’s look.
till this day, I believe this was the best men’s outfit that we ever got at a Met Gala! Forever missing Chadwick🥺♥️
insta • unkwnzj
Sooooo can we get some fanfiction stories of John Creasy aka Yahya plzzz? 👀👀👀👀
#yahyaabdulmateen #yahyaabdulmateenII #manonfire #johncreasy #justfine
so, I'm bout to write.
Note: cause I finished watching sinners the other day 😮💨 I'm overly going for smoke.
STRESS RELIEVER. | MBJ
MBJ! Smoke x Black! Female Reader.
Warnings: MDNI!! this story is 18+ with depictions of but not limited to; sexual content ( oral sex, (f receiving) unprotected sex (u betta wrap it up!) extreme language (cursing, use of n-word,) choking, talking you through it. Not proof read.
Summary: you're a stressed single mom, but Smoke can help you with that.
when i'm taking sips,
from your tasty lips,
the honey fairly drips.
Circa 1947.
Clarksdale, MS.
"Lyle!" You called out for your ten year old son, hands vigorously tossing and scrubbing the fabric of one of his t shirts together in your wooden wash tub. You had sent that boy off thirty minutes ago with your spare wash tub, and he still hadn't made it back yet. The lord said be fruitful, but here you were struggling with your one, not to mention your niece. "Lyle Jr!" You called out again, eyes flickering into the wooded area behind your small home. No Lyle.
You huffed drying your hands on your dress, eyes darting over the vicinity. You spotted one of Lyle's friends, James, holding some goods walking down the road, Edith's son from down the road.
"James, you seen Lyle at that river?" You asked squinting, using your right hand as visor against the sun, looking at the younger boy slow to a stop in front of you. His lips parted and his eyes got shifty, he ain't wanna tell on his buddy. "Boy if you fixin' to lie for 'em don't even, he already in a world of trouble."
James sighed, "I seen him in town at Mr Al's sto' a few minutes ago."
You kissed your teeth, "I figured. Gone get home, boy." You mumbled eyes following the child until he was at the end of the road. You sighed, turning around and pulling the shirt out of the wash tub and wringing it out. Now here you had to go, stopping your washing to go and get that hardheaded child out of town. You planned on being done with this just in time for dinner, but like always Lyle found a way to turn a simple instruction, into complete chaos. But, he was your baby.
Lyle was just like his father—wild, active and barely attentive. Splitting image of him too. He had nearly every trait from him except his nose and that curly hair—both traits straight from you. Those gray eyes, flat lips, and freckles peppered across his nose was nothing other than Lyle Sr. It didn't take a rocket scientist to see that your son was half white, and apparently it didn't take them Klansman long to see it either. They seen you and Lj playing in the yard earlier that day, and wanted to see the nigger lover that got you pregnant. Their words.
He had just come home from the war only an hour before, Lj never got the chance to see his daddy the next morning. They snatched him right out of your house, and two days later your uncle found him dangling from the limb of a tree. You told Lj he died in Japan, that he died a hero.
"Elaine!" You called out toward the cracked front door of your home, where inside Elaine should've been shelling peas. You shuffled over the lawn to your clothes line, grabbing a clip and clipping the wet shirt to the line.
"Yes, auntie?" Elaine peeked her head out of the door, brown eyes looking at you expectantly.
"Do me a favor and get started on dinner, baby. I gotta go get Lj from town," you sighed.
"Yes ma'am," she mumbled heading back inside. You started across the grass, hands shielding the sun from your squinted eyes as you seen the nice Lincoln Continental rounding the dirt road quickly. Ain't no cars that nice ever pass through your side of town, the Klansman ain't even got cars that nice.
You watched, and it was nice, real nice until you seen your boy in the passengers seat, with a complete damn stranger. You took a deep breath, closed your eyes and said a silent prayer to the lord. By the time that nice Lincoln stopped in front of your lawn, your eyes were open and narrowed. You could feel the hesitance from Lyle as he slowly opened the car door.
"Hey mama," he fidgeted nervously with that same boyish smile his father used to do, guilt all in his expression, "I filled yo' wash tub up!" He quickly gestured to the wooden tub sitting half full in the backseat.
The man driving exited the car. Tall, brown, handsome, in a fine Irish suit, and brown leather Johnston's & Murphy. But what the hell was your son doing in the passenger seat? You'd seen this man in your life, and you knew for a fact Lyle hadn't either. A short surge of panic coursed through you.
"Lj, where the hell were you?! I told you to go fill my washtub and I see yo ass roundin' the corner with a complete stranger?" You scolded. "Get my washtub out that backseat and get yo behind up in thar house, before you don't have a behind to sit on later." You gritted, eyes on him as he deflated, slowly pulling the back door open.
"I caught him at Al sto' in town," the man started, southern drawl slow and accent as thick as it could be, leaning on the hood of his car ever so casually, watching Lyle grab the half full washtub from the backseat, "Al caught him stealin' a few things and was fixin' to get rough wit'em—”
Your eyes widened at the mention, as they darted back to your son. "Stealing?! Lj—”
"But I took him, we had a talk about stealin' didn't we?" The man arched a brow at him.
"Yeah, ma," Lyle grunted sitting the wooden tub on the lawn, before reaching to the pocket of his pants and pulling out 80 cents and holding it out you, "Smoke gave me twenty cents a minute to watch his car! And all I had to do, was hold the horn if somebody got close—and then these two men got too close so Smoke came out and—”
"Boy, shut yo mouth and take yo ass in that house like yo mama told you," Smoke cut him off, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his suit pocket, he took one, and held it between his lips before holding the pack out to you.
Any other time you would've cursed somebody out for talking to your child crazy, but that was the first time since your husband died that Lj just listened. No excuses, no kickback. And you were silently grateful for that. He slowly trudged toward the house.
"No thank you," you replied in response to the offer of the cigarette, your skeptical gaze on the man on your property, "thank you for bringin' my child home, but I can take it from here. My husband'll be home shortly."
Lyle paused at the step, confusion creasing his forehead. "But mama, daddy died in Japan—"
You closed your eyes tightly, clenching your teeth. "Lj, ain't I said get in that house?!" You raised your voice, tone stern and heavy. Your boy. You heard quick shuffling up the stairs and the side of your front door being gently closed.
You heard the flicker of a lighter as you lowered yourself onto a nearby stool, dragging your freshly filled wash tub toward you. The faint smell of cigarette smoke lingered.
"I fought in that same war," Smoke recalled as he took a long drag from his cigarette, "seen some of the worst shit you could ever imagine."
You sighed, stuffing one of your nieces dresses into the tub and started to vigorously clean it. "Yeah, you, my husband and plenty others...” you mumbled eyes glancing up at him quickly with little interest before you focused your attention back on your busied hands. "...thank you for service."
Smoke ain't reply for a moment just observed. The tension in your shoulders, the stoic expression of your face, to the irritation in your tone. You were beyond stressed. "What you doin' tonight?"
Your movements stilled almost immediately. Your eyes slowly trailed up from the brown leather shoes he wore, to the very expensive Irish suit that adorned his body, your nose scrunched in mix of disgust and heavy irritation. "Excuse me?"
A ghost of a smirk fell across his lips, the sun gleaming off the gold caps he had on his teeth. "You look like you need a break, shit. You out here in 90 degree weather scrubbin' shirts and shit like the stains pissed in yo coffee this mornin'."
"Me and my brother Stack got a juke bar openin' up tonight right down the road."
You let out a half hearted laugh and continued scrubbing. "Boy, do it look like I got time for a juke bar? I got two kids up in that house." You mumbled. You couldn't remember the last time you went to a party. Maybe 17? You got married at 19 and had Lyle at 20. As soon as you got married, had a kid, there were no more parties for you. And when your sister passed and you took in Elaine—it got even more serious. All your focus tuned in to giving those kids the very best life, and that's why you left Texas two years ago. They deserved a fresh start.
"I wish yall the best, but I ain't got nobody to watch my kids." You mumbled. "Good luck on yall openin'."
Smoke flicked his cigarette, "damn shame," he muttered, "cause I was show'll hopin' to see more of you."
You quietly kissed your teeth, your movements slightly slowing. You kept your eyes down and lips sealed until that Lincoln pulled off. Who the hell was Smoke?
You hummed softly taking a sip of water from your glass as you looked over at your niece across from you. Spooning over the side of black-eyed peas on her plate.
"Girl," you side-eyed her, taking a bite out of the dinner roll, "you better not be over there' wastin' food."
Elaine's eyes darted over to you immediately, "I'm not auntie, I'm just thinkin'... you never go out and have fun, and I heard that man out there invitin' you to the juke bar, and everybody goin! I heard Mary's mama and Mrs. Edith talkin' about it earlier too."
"I can take care of Lj and me, he won't be no problem." She affirmed.
You thought over it for a moment, your eyes flickering over to Lj who was already shaking head. "I'll be good mama, I swear."
You rolled your eyes sighing heavily over the rim over your glass. "Mm, I'll go. Only for a lil bit though, cause I don't want yall alone for too long." Why'd you raise your kids to be so damn sweet?
You looked around the jukebox bar, already apparently in full action before you and Edith had even arrived. You looked absolutely gorgeous, the many compliments you received from friends and neighbors in passing as soon as you walked in—even the sweet compliments from your kids. You looked almost rich, a red and white plaid halter swing dress, a white shawl over your shoulders, the fanciest red pumps you owned, a single baby's breath flower in your bouncy, brushed out roller set, and a bold red lip to pull it all together. You looked great. But you felt so out of place.
"Girl, this is a lot," you mumbled to your friend quietly as she edged you both closer to the bar, "I feel so out of place—I think I need to go home and check on my kids!" Anxiety started to creep in as you began to turn on your heels but felt the soft pull of Edith's hands in your wrist.
"Girl, relax," she frowned a little, dropping her hand from your wrist and dusted off the skirt of your dress, "the kids are fine and you know that. You need a break, and a drink! You tense all in the shoulders, honey." She waved a hand over your upper body with a look of disdain.
"I am not tense!" You defended. You were.
"You are," she retorted, "and you makin' me nervous! You don't hear Slim singin' up there?" Her light brown eyes followed yours to the stage. You side-eyed her as she proofed her hair and shot you a quick glance. "You reckon he'll notice me tonight?"
You contained your poker face, even though you wanted to display the shock you felt internally. You didn't know much about Slim, other than he was known in the area for playing at a local blues club, and the fact he had a better relationship with alcohol than people it seemed. He didn't seem to be a bad man though. "...I hope so." You mumbled eyes darting all over the floor of people.
"Well," she hummed with a smile, "ima increase my chances by standin' closer to the stage," she gently guided you to an open stool at the bar, "you, need to stay here and get a drink. It's on me!"
You shot her a glare before rolling your eyes and letting off a soft sigh as she squeezed your hand before heading off, disappearing into the sea of bodies on the floor. You looked around the wooden interior what had appeared to be an old ranch, or barn, but the decorations had made it look up to par.
"What can I get you?"
Your eyes averted over to the pretty Chinese woman behind the bar in front of you. Your eyes scanned the shelf for a brief moment. "Y'all got gin?" You asked scrunching your nose at the selection that was presented.
She nodded, turning around to grab a bottle from the counter and a clean glass, pouring a generous amount in before presenting it to you. "That'll be fifty cent."
You went to open the white clutch in your lap to fetch your change.
"Gon' and put that one on the house, Grace," Smoke's voice sounded off behind you, he was close. Grace simply nodded and headed off to tend to another customer.
"Thank you," you mumbled, slowly closing your clutch and keeping your eyes straight ahead, grabbing your glass and taking a sip of tb win
"Thank you," he reiterated to you, slipping into the limited space between you and the other seated patron, slightly leaning on the bar, "for comin. I ain't think you was gon show up."
You glanced at him briefly, his brown irises staring directly at you. You crossed your legs tighter, and averted your eyes elsewhere. You couldn't explain it, but he was staring at you like he was studying you. "Yeah, y'all got a lot of people here. That's good, right?" You responded dodging the last party of his statement, hell, after this drink you were still thinking about bolting. And maybe he knew that.
He finally took his eyes off of you, briefly looking over the over building. "Yeah. Stack handled business on that front." His eyes looked over your seated frame once more. "You look good."
You took another sip of gin. "Thank you," you mumbled softly eyes darting over the interior of the club once again. Looking for any change in conversation, any minor detail you could point out. Anything that could stop this gin from making you cave into whatever temptation this man was dangling over your head.
"This a big place." You chirped out, eyes loping everywhere but him.
"You want me to show you around?"
You blinked. The party was right here. Be damned it was probably nothing but empty storage rooms on that second level. But why not? Edith left you to go source out the opportunity that Slim would notice her, and right now you wasn't feeling much like mingling.
"Can I bring my drank?"
Upstairs was exactly how you pictured it; a mix of empty rooms. Smoke apparently bad vision for all of them. He showed you a spacious room, one that he sought out to be his office, a small one he wanted to make storage, and a moderate sized one for a break room of some sorts.
Inside the fourth and final room you were greeted with a desk of some sorts, a bunch of wooden boxes filled with alcohol, and a glowing jukebox in the corner. The door seemed to fall shut behind you as you followed smoke in, glass still half full with the gin as you took a seat atop the desk.
"Shouldn't that be downstairs?" You half chuckled gesturing to the jukebox he was now fiddling with.
"What you wanna hear?" He asked you, shooting you a half glance as he reached inside his pocket and pulled out a quarter, popping it into the machine.
"You don't hear that music downstairs?" You watched your eyebrow, looking at him over the rim of your glass.
"I ain't asked you none about the music downstairs. I asked what you wanna hear." He reaffirmed, eyes settled on you. Your gaze met his for a moment before you set the glass beside you on the desk, and carefully slid off. You met him at the jukebox, eyes skimming over your limited options, before you settled on Honeysuckle Rose by Fats Waller.
The soft and familiar jazz tune filled the air as you took your seat back at the desk, Smoke staying stationed where he was. Comfortably leaned up against the jukebox. For a second nothing was said, only the smooth low instrumental of the beginning of the song played.
Smoke's eyes lazily trailed over your figure and you could feel his heated glaze, even when you acted as if you were fixated on the wallpaper, or the gin in your glass.
"What you do for work?" He spoke up. And you were grateful for the break in silence, the air in the room felt thick with something you ain't felt in a real long time.
"I make clothes, I sell vegetables from my garden sometimes," you shrugged, "I make do."
"You need a man."
You blinked, before a scoff followed by a half-hearted laugh escaped your mouth. "I don't need no man to help me pay the bills."
"Nah, but you do need a man for all that stress you got." His voice was even, but his stare was heavy. You shifted on the desk, throat dry. But the seat of your panties wasn't.
You were a widowed, single mama, and a woman with respect and morals. How would you look having casual sex with a man you just met earlier in the day? Please.
You shuffled to your feet from the desk and headed toward the door, mumbling a fast and quiet 'I gotta go.' He was quick to meet you before your hand hit that doorknob. Hands placed firmly on your hips, your back pressed all up against that pristine Irish suit he wore. His lips found your neck in feather light, searing kisses. "There you go," he mumbled in between kisses to your heated flesh, "worryin' and stressin'. You ain't got nowhere to be right now, but right here lettin' me take care of you."
You sucked your bottom lip in, eyes fluttering closed followed by a heavy inhale. If you had any will at all it'd already escaped with that first kiss. "We don't even know each other," you tried to reason, voice coming out strained and breathy.
"I ain't gotta know you to help you wit' this," his hands gently squeezing your hips through your dress, dragging up until they reached your shoulders, that he gently massaged before running them down your arms, kissing your right shoulder gently, his lips leaving heat behind.
"Besides," he mumbled against the fabric of your shawl, until his lips found the exposed skin of your neck again, he left one soft peck, "we bout to be well acquainted after this."
He proved to at least know your body well. He made good use of that desk, to have you seated there, legs rested against his shoulders and the skirt of your dress hiked over your waist. His eyes made full contact with yours, as he sucked on your swollen clit. His soft hums on your sensitive bud, had your lips parted, breathing uneven and eyes lazy. "Ooh, fuck!" You hummed a soft moan, eyes boring into his as he pulled back before pulling your clit in between his lips in a series of sloppy sucks, a string of your wetness and his spit dripping from his goatee onto the hardwoods flooring beneath you, his knees planted firmly on the ground.
"Just like that, Smoke," you nodded vigorously, still maintaining the lazy eye contact with him until your thighs trembled and your eyes shut involuntarily. Your hands raised in an abrupt attempt to find something to grip onto, in the midst your hand knocking the glass half full with the gin to the hardwood flooring. Smoke seemed undeterred by the glass clobbering to the floor, his tongue tracing big lazy circles around your swollen bud, the soft hums and moans emanating from his throat sending small jolts of vibrations through you. Your breath hitched, eyes lazily opening to give him still watching you. Tongue slipping in and out of you, with a vengeance damn near. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into the thrusts of his tongue like he was tryna collect whatever you'd give him.
"Shiiiiit," you slurred through a moan, eyes fluttering closed again voice raspy with need, "I'm finna cum!" You squeaked, thighs squeezing around his head.
"Mmh, mmh," he hummed against your pussy before pushing your thighs apart and pulling back, face messy, his hand slapped your exposed ass cheek, taking a needy moan from you, "wanna feel you cummin' on this dick soon as I slide it in." He mumbled hoarsely, his eyes trained on you lowly while his fingers busied themselves with undoing his belt. Your thighs squeezed close at his lewd words as your eyes connected with the bulge he was pulling from his pants. So pretty—and dicks usually weren't. Veiny, and two toned.
He pushed your thighs apart gently and leaned down, kissing you with you all over his lips. The way he kissed you was soft and hungry, like he wasn't rushing but enjoying. His teeth caught your bottom lip as you moaned, feeling him gently slap the tip of his dick against your throbbing clit, rubbing it all over your sloppy wetness, before carefully pushing into you.
A gasp left your lips as soon as you felt him stretch you open, his girth mixed with your long run of celibacy filled you with a slight sting and feeling slightly uncomfortable, but Smoke didn't give you a minute to react, his lips meeting yours, fingers softly grazing your clit as he eased into you. He pulled back to mumble a throaty, "Fuck," against your lips when he filled you to the hilt. A heavy breath slipped past your lips as your brows furrowed, eyes dropping down to where you two met.
He proved to know you even better then. Slipping in and out of you with slow precision at first. His fingers rubbing slow teasing circles against your clit. Bottom lip between your teeth, eyes fluttered closed as he peppered kisses along your jawline and chin. "You feel so fuckin' good," he mumbled voice raspy and muffled against your jaw. Your voice hadn't caught up to you yet, and your breaths were too quick and erratic, yet, you felt the most relaxed you felt in a long time.
Slow precision turned into deep hard strokes. You coated him in creamy white, one hand wrapped around your neck, the other gripping the front of your dress for leverage to keep working inside of you. His forehead dampened with sweat, pressed against yours as he stared into your lazy brown irises. "Look at that shit," he grunted, pulling back slightly, eyes falling to where you connected, slowing his strokes to show how well you had him covered, "you needed this shit so bad," he affirmed. You mustered enough breath to produce a broken squeal, your eyes shutting closed tight. The only sounds filling the essence of the room was the sound of your skin hastily making contact with his, and the sound of your wetness clashing with him.
"Yea," he mumbled pulling away, hand squeezing tighter around your neck, just enough to barely construct your breathing, "that pussy talkin' to me. Pussy thankin' me baby?" He quizzed, heavy breathing shadowing his question.
"Yessss," you whined out, thighs trembling as you opened your eyes, only for them to roll back a second later. He knew exactly where to hit. It was like he find your spot, and stroked with a vigor. The legs of the desk screeching against the hardwood flooring, made ugly sounds followed by the lewd sounds the both of you produced. "Oh my god," you huffed, a sense of pleasurable urgency in your voice, "I'm bout to cum, baby!" You rushed out, stars blurred your vision and it seemed like your breathing stopped for a moment. The only thing that filled your ears was your sticky wetness, the sound of the desk screeching across the floor, and the violent slams of your body crashing into each other.
It was like you couldn't produce sound even when you came. The way your body stiffened and your legs trembled, how your hands instantly reached to push at his torso and chest as he fucked you through it. Only a loud cry followed after, and even then it seemed as if the stars continued to swim behind your eyelids. You went into a period of overstimulation, where your body couldn't comprehend the pleasure he was giving you, if anything you were completely dazed. Your breathing only returned when he finally slipped out of you. He didn't give you time to catch your breath as he met your lips with his, before trailing them down to your neck. "Ain't you glad you came?"
hope you enjoyed xo 🩷
Hello please reblog this if you’re okay with people sending you random asks to get to know you better
Me in route to take your man
Note: Hey y'all! I hope y'all enjoy, the next one might be submissive Terry idkidk 🫣 kinda hate this one.
Perfect Gentleman. | Aaron Pierre.
Gentle!Terry Richmond x Black!Female Reader
Warnings: MNDI!! this story is 18+ with depictions but not limited to; sexual content ( penetrat!on, oral s3x ( m receiving), extreme language (cursing, sexual references) established relationship, slight daddy kink if you squint. Not proofread!
Summary: terry's been the perfect gentleman, maybe a little too gentle.
swear you can have me, you really one-of-one.
how you so nasty? you really one-of-one.
You eagerly scratched the itch away in your bitten up ankles. The mosquitoes out here in the Black Bayou had torn your exposed ankles up—and this was why camping wasn't your thing. You'd never complain though, any excuse to be with Terry was a good one.
"I told you to wear long socks," he chuckled looking back you and at how you'd scratched the skin on your ankles red, "all that gardenin' you do and you out here with no socks on," he softly lectured as you watched him pitch the tent, at his demand. He was such a gentleman.
You'd been dating Terry for over four months, you've both went on a plethora of dates, had the steamy first kiss, and even spent a night at each others apartment, but you still hadn't fucked yet. Was it you? You knew you had an Oscar worthy performance of your coy-innocent act that Terry ate up all of the time, but you weren't a prude. You couldn't count how many times you'd hinted, and seduced only to be met with more gentleness.
And you loved how patient, protective, and gentle he was with you. He was everything you'd practically asked for when you started dating. A nice man, a sweet man—and you got it, a full blown golden retriever boyfriend. He had so many amazing qualities, he was always on time arriving fifteen minutes early. Something he said was one of the most useful things he learned from his time in the Marine Corps. He was a full blown de-escalator, he never wanted to argue with you, always communicating as calmly as he could before coming to an understanding with you. He was gentle. But maybe he was too gentle? You wanted Terry in the worst ways. It didn't help that he stayed in good shape, gym four times a week, and his infinite morning runs kept him in tip-top shape.
You pouted, squinting your eyes as you looked at Terry from underneath the brim of the Nike bucket hat you'd retrieved from him. Although he was pitching the tent and the sun was currently beating down on him, he decided that, you, sitting in the shade doing nothing, needed the hat more. Such a man.
"You said come comfortable, and I garden in my crocs—that's what I came in!" You defended your reasoning for not wearing the socks that he did tell you to pack last night over a quick FaceTime call, but he did say come comfortable in the same sentence. "These mosquitos are relentless, baby, look at my ankles!" You frowned looking at how red and irritated the skin has gotten there even on your deep brown skin.
Of course Terry stopped his meddling with the tent and came over to assess your so badly injured ankles. He tsk'd softly his big hands cradling both of your ankles gently. Now push them behind my head! you eagerly thought feeling him touch you at all always sent shocks and shivers through your body.
"They eatin' my baby up," he somberly acknowledged rubbing his thumbs where the bites were firmly, "you put bug spray on like I told you?"
You nodded. "Yeah, just go and finish the tent," you dramatically sighed waiting to eagerly scratch at the bites, "I'll just be sitting over here, itchy, getting ate up." At least something was eating you up.
He brought your left ankle up to his lips casually, placing a soft kiss there before setting the both of them back down carefully. You almost moaned, it had been way too long. "stop scratchin' at em, you makin' em worse."
You looked at him, batting your eyelashes at him a dazed nod following right behind. He was so gorgeous, and it didn't help that he was so sweet and treated you like the absolute brat you were. He continued on with his quick work with the tent and you continued on with your sneaky scratching. After it was perfectly pitched, he got you inside as soon as it was done to rub a bit of alcohol on your itchy ankles and making you put on a pair of his socks that were way too big for you.
You frowned looking down at your legs later that night as you both set around the campfire, that you had gotten started. You hadn't forgotten all the survival tips your father had shown you. Terry focused on cooking the fish he and you caught earlier from the pier. He'd cleaned it and dissembled it himself. "These are puttin' a damper on my outfit, so not cute."
Terry chuckled, quickly flipping the searing fish over in the pan. Your eyes flickered over to him. "What?"
"You so country," he commented through a light chuckle, "damper?"
"That's not country!" You defended through a smile. "Everybody says damper!"
"Nobody says damper,"
"Does too!"
"Why you gotta be such a brat? Why you act like that?" He teased playfully, holding his hand out to you only to pull you up from your chair and into his lap. "Hm?" He hummed nuzzling his faced into your neck where he playfully nipped at the skin on your neck, knowing the ticklish effect it had on you.
You laughed hunching your shoulder up to push him away from the area, "stop!" The assault lasted a few more minutes before he reluctantly stopped, only when he seen the tears from your nonstop laughter, and how you cradled your aching stomach when you laughed.
"Brat," he mumbled in between persisting kisses to your lips. You happily returned each one, who were you to deny the brat allegations. They were very true. "Always gotta have yo way."
"You love how bratty I am," you retorted, trailing your own lingering kisses from his lips, to his jaw, to his neck.
"I do," he mumbled out an agreement making you laugh against his neck before continuing on, and you thought maybe, as his hands kneaded the back of your thighs and the undersides of your ass. But all that came undone when he urgently removed you from his lap in light hysterics about almost burning the fish.
The fish.
How could he even think about fish when he had your throbbing pussy in his lap, was he really blind to all this shit? Or was he just not sexually attracted to you? Or was he fucking celibate? The questions brought on a lingering insecurity. The rest of the night you were more distant, quiet, the situation left you a little embarrassed and salty. You'd never had a man be so indifferent to your advances. Or did he even see them as advances? Hell, you didn't know anymore.
Your distance and quiet demeanor didn't go unnoticed either Terry, who constantly made it his mission to see if you were okay and enjoying yourself. You answered the same all the time, yes, which did very little to comfort him—but he also didn't wanna push you into irritation.
"You sure you good, baby?" He asked later that night as you both settled into the cozy tent. You made sure to nestle yourself into your cute, pinky, sleeping bag. It was so you.
"Yeah." You simply answered with a nod, forcing the weak smile. Such a liar. But you weren't gonna admit that the situation left you feeling a little salty. You didn't wanna bring the situation up at all, you'd much rather forget it.
"You sure? You not actin' like yourself, baby. You want me to take you home?" There he went. Being so him. Always being so caring.
"No, I'm fine. It's nothing really, im just..itchy still." You seamlessly lied. Or maybe not. You were still itchy.
Terry decided not to press the issue instead making sure he got as close as possible to you, something he always did when you slept together, he loved being right up under you—you didn't contest to it. Ever. You both gave your good nights, and Terry made sure to turn off the LED lantern lamp you both had in the tent. A soft and easy silence falling over the both of you. Terry's soft breathing, body heat, chirping crickets and the pitch black were enough to lull you to sleep. And they almost did, but damn, you were still itchy.
You brought your knees to your chest, hastily scratching at your extremely itchy ankles, a heavy, draws out sigh from the temporary but almost euphoric relief skipped past your lips.
"Stop scratchin'." Terry's deep voice but through the silence, the raspiness on the edge of his voice attributed to the sleep that had took him in quick. The words halted your actions quickly as you tried to quietly morph into a comfortable position.
"I'm not," you spoke quietly.
"But you were."
His damn hearing. He heard everything.
"Well I wouldn't have been if I was doing something else." Your tone snappy but the suggestiveness fore fronted the sassiness.
"Somethin' else like what?" Terry questioned.
You huffed immediately, sitting up abruptly from your sleeping bag and flickering the lantern on. "Are you really that clueless?" You exclaimed almost, looking at his ever so lost expression. "Terry, are not you sexually attracted to me?"
Terry looked at you as if you'd grown two heads. Like he couldn't understand why you'd ask him such a question, like you didn't know he was a full blown raging man. "Why would you even ask me that, of course im sexually attracted to you, baby."
"You don't act like it," you quietly murmured, "it's like every time I try, you pull back. What is it? I really thought I was obvious enough with everything."
And you were. Terry wasn't ignorant to your advances. But he also wasn't ignorant to your past relationships and the men that you dealt with. Full blown sex addicts a few of them seemed to be, and some of them seemed unable to form a real bond with you without sex. He wanted to prove to you that he actually liked you, that he wanted to get to know you past sex. That he wanted this to last. It'd taken copious amounts of restraint for him to slyly deter away from the advances. Copious amounts.
He wasn't exactly sure how he made it to four months himself, without caving in. Maybe it was his serious he'd gotten about your relationship, maybe it was genuine like for you that made it somewhat easy. He was still a man though, taking care of himself when he was finally away from you.
He said your name slowly, sitting up himself, "im utterly, completely, and deeply sexually attracted to you. But I wanna show you that when it comes to keeping this together, sex is indifferent to me. I don't want you to think we need that shit to connect. I genuinely like you, alot."
"I like you too, but I already knew that Terry," he softly laughed, the weight of the insecurities dropping off your shoulders. You couldn't believe that once again, all this time, the lack of sex was catered to his feelings about you. You were gonna fuck this man so good. So good. "I knew that at the end of the first date when you didn't try to kiss me when you dropped me off." You giggled at the recanting of the memory.
"I wanted you to feel it though."
"And I do feel it," you slinked even closer to him, hand trailing up his thigh, "I feel it so much." You looked up at him, batting your long lashes.
Terry sat there slack mouthed, brows furrowed, his stormy eyes looking down at you with bursting pleasure and astonishment as he watched you suck him down. How the fuck did you get so good at this shit? You'd completely covered his shaft in your saliva, you were loud and sloppy. Just how he liked it. Throat so tight around him, every time you nuzzled him in. You were dazed yourself, tasting him, having him in the back of your throat where you craved him so many times before. You were savoring all of this.
Your hands wrapped themselves around his girthy length, stroking them at a brisk pace, your wet mouth guiding them in their dizzying up and down movements. His grunts and groans of approval only furthered you to please him more. You looked up at him, eyes watery, and soft as you took him down, spit bubbles formed around him, as you nuzzled him in deeper into your mouth. Removing a spit soaked hand, you nuzzled that into your soaked panties, pleasing him, pleased you.
"Sss-shitttt," he drug out through a groan, his strong hand grasping the back of your neck, as he bucked himself up into your mouth, relentlessly fucking your throat. You shut your watery, burning eyes letting him use you how he wanted. "Fuck, eat that dick up baby. You do that shit so good," he slurred through his persisting moans.
That only furthered your arousal, which furthered your efforts. The rough gags and choking from you was almost enough to send him over the edge. Almost. You finally pulled back, giving him a chance to recover and giving yourself a chance to catch your ailing breathing.
You stroke him off, spitting down on his shaft in your hands, eagerly stroking the lubrication in, leaning your head down to suck one of his balls into your mouth; gently. You knew too much. How did you know so much?
"Why you so nasty?" He mumbled grabbing your chin once you were done tending to his balls. "Hm?" He hummed before pressing your wet lips to his own. His kiss rushed, sloppy, and deep. His tongue searched every inch of your mouth, his lips sucking your own into his mouth.
Oh he was nasty like that?
"Move," he knocked your hands away from his still hardened dick, "take that shit off." He comments taking heed to the articles of clothing you still had on, his own hands slithering under the oversized shirt you'd put on for bed.
"But I wanted to make you cum—" you started, wiping your wet mouth with the back of your hand once he eagerly pulled your t-shirt off, nipples immediately pebbling due to the exposure of the cool night air in the tent. You didn't get to finish your sentence before Terry's lips were already latched onto the flesh on your neck, creating red blemishes as he cascaded down your body skillfully.
"You bout to," he mumbled attaching his lips to yours once again, "open up," he tapped your jaw firmly, "lemme see." The firm taps to your jaw ignited the fire and aching need in your belly, a moan slipped past your lips as you opened like he asked.
You watched, dazed, as he spat down into your mouth. Oh, he was nasty.
It was like yin and yang to you. This couldn't be your Terry. Not the Terry that bought you flowers every Sunday and never let you lift a finger Terry. This was a different Terry, nasty Terry. Impatient Terry. Demanding Terry. Just what you wanted.
"Oh my god-uhhhh!" You slurred out through a moan. Terry's vice grip on your locs matched the same vice grip you currently had him in right now. He had you positioned on all fours, one hand on your hip to steady his hard, dizzying strokes. He was fucking you hard, too hard. Too good. Your thighs trembled beneath you, knees threatening to buckle as he slammed into your heated core repeatedly. It's like he knew exactly where that spot was located. "Right there, daddy! Right fucking there," you whimpered, face pressed pathetically on the pallet beneath you.
"I know, i feel that shit," he groaned, sending another hard smack to your ass cheek, the recoil from his pelvis constantly slamming into your ass had him in a complete daze. Four months he kept himself from this, restrained himself from what he knew had to be good. But he didn't expect it feel like this. "Wettin' me right the fuck up—mm mm, keep that shit right there, you better not fuckin' lay down, keep that shit open just like that." He mumbled out into the tent, taking into head your trembling legs. The lewd sounds of your sopping wet pussy, followed by the loud slapping of your skin together filled your tent and your empty head.
"Fuckkkk," you groaned out, managing to sit up in your elbows, acrylics clawing at the covers beneath you, your eyes crossed as you felt his tip kissing a little too deep, "so deep, baby."
"Mhm," he hummed pulling your head back with his tight grip on your hair, his lust filled glare looking right down into your own crossed eyes, "right where i should be. Look at you, takin' this dick like a good girl. This what you wanted right?"
"Yesssss," you managed to fully get out, a series of breath taking moans following. He was giving you exactly what you wanted; hard, rough shit. He was fucking you like he hated you, like he had a point to prove. This shit was only making you delusional did he not understand the type of you he would get now?
"Yeah? Wanted daddy to dig yo' shit out just like this, huh?" He nodded watching you nod in response, your breaths coming out in a series of heavy puffs. "I know you did, can tell by the way you creamin' on my dick."
"Shittt!" You gasped out the exploitive, planting your hands flat against the ground, mustering yo whatever weak energy you had to fuck yourself back against him, working toward your own impending orgasm. "I'm finna cum!" You rushed out.
Terry pulled you back toward his chest, your small frame engulfed in his as you sat promptly in his lap getting impaled in the most delicious way possible. You felt lightheaded, high, and perfect all at once. "Babyyyy, im cummin'!" You whined out.
"Keep tellin' me, do that shit. Lemme feel you cum on my dick," he grunted, the lewd works making you clench around him as they clearly sent you tumbling over the edge. Terry mocking your long, loud and drawn out moans with his own. His lips attacking wherever they could on your exposed neck. His impaling strokes never stopped, even when it was clear you'd completely rode it out. He kept fucking you, sending you into a deep place of overstimulation. When was he ever planning to cum?
"Look at you," he mumbled a smug smirk on his lips, hand firmly holding your slacked jaw in his hand, "dick got you dumb—breathe through that shit, baby." He tapped your jaw, repeatedly. The sight of you alone, plus the constant contracting of your walls around him had earned you a deliciously sounding groan. You hadn't even realized you were holding your breath until he spoke up.
Everything was too much. It was too much to focus on. The pleasure, his voice, his kisses. Forgetting to breathe in the middle of your overstimulation was warranted.
Your breaths cane tumbling back to you fast, hard and quick you panted. Body trembling in Terrys grasp, as dared to lean forward feeling another orgasm approaching, but this one felt harder. Body-shattering. It hurt and felt so good at the same time.
"Fuck, ima nut baby," Terry grunted in your ear. "Pussy so good, why yo shit so good like this?" Finally.
"Cum in my pussy, please daddy," was the first and only thing you could get out, not even warning him about your oncoming orgasm. This one cramped everything, the tightness in your stomach didn't subside but seemed to get tighter. Your thighs were numb, but your legs ached. The squeal you let out left your throat raw, and that's why you didn't hear Terry when he finally announced that he was cumming, but you felt him for sure, right where you told him to.
You felt Terry's lips against your jaw, kissing you repeatedly. Telling you how well you did for him, how he couldn't believe he kept himself away from that for four months. How good it was. These were finally the words that lulled you off to a blissful sleep, you'd finally got what you wanted. There you were, fucked out In a tent, with cum leaking out of you. Such a whore. A happy whore.
-
still no tag list! 😭 hope you enjoy this little filler! 💕
Note: back with our favorite boo, Terry. It's my birthday, but I guess I can gift y'all with something lol! ❤️
Helpful Neighbors. | Aaron Pierre.
Toxic!Neighbor Terry Richmond x Black!Female Reader.
Warnings: MNDI!! this story is 18+ with depictions but not limited to; sexual content ( penetrat!on. toy play, water sports), extreme language (cursing, use of b-word and others.) slight daddy kink if you squint.
Summary: You confront your noisy neighbor about his loud late night company, he allows you to retaliate.
you fucking nasty,
first you cum and then you wipe it on my ass cheeks.
There wasn't much that you knew about your neighbor Terry. You knew he was generally friendly, you bringing him a small housewarming gift of a bath and bodywork's candle when he'd first moved in months prior. You knew he was a vet based on the marines sticker on the bumper of his pick up. You knew he was active, you often seen him heading out for camping trips, often seeing him in the apartments shared gym area when you'd take time out of your busy schedule to get a short work out in. You knew he was gorgeous, anybody could attest to that.
And he was loud. Very fucking loud.
And if you didn't know anything else, you knew that for sure.
The noise varied. Most nights he was particularly quiet, you wouldn't even have noticed anybody lived there if you hadn't seen him before. But some nights, he was a little loud. Metal music from an 80's band bled through the apartment walls, straight into your bedroom, you actually didn't mind it—being an exhausted charge nurse, the metal music did something for you, calming you in a strange way. Him seemingly fixing something, sometimes in the latest hours, drilling, hammering.
But it wasn't any of that. There wasn't any metal music. But he was sure drilling or hammering somebody. And she was extensively louder than anything you'd heard from Terry's apartment. You had to quickly grab your remote, muting your comfort show on your television to make sure she wasn't screaming blood murder.
It wasn't bloody murder, but she was screaming alright. You sighed, it was your first off day in two weeks of working straight in the trauma unit of the local hospital. It'd been a viscous stomach bug going around, and with the big panic from the prior pandemic, the hospital wasn't risking another one slipping up—so work was rough, and long.
But maybe you were bitter? It'd been way too long since you'd properly got your rocks off—not anything involving your beloved rose. So maybe you were just a bit bitter that at least somebody was getting theirs. Good for him! Just not on tonight. Not this night. You'd planned to crawl in bed, eat the most unhealthiest snacks in your cabinet and watch your comfort show, and maybe weep the prior two weeks out onto your pillow, you deserved a good cry after all, girl.
You sighed heavily, placing the pillow over your head letting out a groan. You'd definitely have to catch him in the morning and talk about this, cause this was outrageous.
Maybe sleep was out of the equation, but you'd definitely moved on to weeping.
The morning sprung and you jumped into action. Due to working 7AM to 7PM, you left out for work around the same time as a Terry did his morning runs. 6AM.
You woke up at 5:30 on a mission, brushing your teeth and doing your skincare and putting on your biggest t-shirt, sweatpants to match, oh you meant business.
You caught him as soon as he'd left his door, jogging the opposite way of your apartment toward the elevators before you called out to him. He turned confused at first until he noticed you, giving a lazy morning smile as he did. Black compression shirt, with the pair of black basketball shorts to match. He had no business being so damn fine. But you weren't deterred by that, last night was fucking atrocious.
"Goodmornin', beautiful," he smoothly recited like he did every morning. He was just nice like that. He said it every morning without fail, he always found something to compliment you on. New color of scrubs, how you decided to get your hair, even sweeter when he sees you out of your deliciously fitting scrubs.
"Good morning Terry," you smiled weakly, "I don't mean to disturb your routine, but can we talk for a minute?" You uneasily shifted your weight. You weren't good with confrontation, it just wasn't in your nature, but you didn't play about your sleep.
He nodded and you walked inside still holding the door open for him to signal him to follow you. He did, his smile faltering a bit once he came inside, you could tell he was confused a little thrown off.
You closed the door behind y'all, moving into your large kitchen area to pour yourself a mug of coffee. "Want some?" You politely asked him to which he politely rejected holding up his thermal water bottle.
You added your usual fixings to your coffee, taking a cautious sip, cradling your mug in your hand before you continued. "I don't mean to be confrontational when I say this," you walked around him heading into the living area, plopping on your newly purchased gray plush sectional, " but you were very ...loud last night." You chose your words, nicely.
He featured you a puzzling look, his finger gesturing to the comfortable chair adjacent to you, "of course." You quickly obliged before he took a seat, uneasily continuing. "Your lady...company, I meant." Sex talk wasn't your thing. Sex was sacred to talk about for you—and you didn't want to make him feel uncomfortable at all.
"Oh shit," he softly cursed, his expression filled with slight concern, "I'm sorry, I didn't realize we were bein' so loud, I hope we ain't keep you up."
"Oh, it's not a big deal," you quickly intercepted not wanting him to feel any type of way, "it's just my first day off in a couple of weeks so I just wanted to wind down with some quiet time and you guys were very...vocal," you chuckled to diffuse the awkwardness of the conversation, to which he added a light chuckle of his own, "at least somebodies getting their rocks off around here." You said jokingly before taking a sip of coffee. You hoped that didn't sound suggestive.
A short moment of silence followed your statement before you recognized Terry's eyes locked on something behind you for responding, "I see I ain't the only one gettin' mine," you furrowed your brows slowly turning your attention to where he was previously locked on. Your rose, sitting cleaned and comfortably on your end table.
You really had to learn to start putting shit back. 
Or maybe not.
Somehow you found yourself on your back, pinned to the couch, Terry folding you up in missionary, knees to your chest, rose to your clit as he gave you long, deep, torturing strokes. You couldn't even remember the quick and somehow satisfying foreplay you'd taken to get here—and you didn't even care anymore. You could feel the fat tip of his dick kissing your cervix, and as if you weren't loud enough, you got louder. How ironic? You could barely hear yourself think, or were you thinking at all?
"Mhm," he hummed, his face composed, nothing but his teeth lightly sunken into his bottom teeth as he drilled you in, finger tips of his thumb and pointer finger giving your right nipple light squeezes and tugs, he kept his eyes on you, even when they rolled back, quickly turning up the vibrator, "look at you, mama. Why you bein' so vocal? Why you bein' so fuckin' loud, baby?" He taunted.
"My god, Terry," you whined, breathless, he kept up, dick hitting that spot that made your toes curl. How was he so good at this shit? You understood her completely. It wasn't atrocious at all. Very understandable. Very justified.
"Yeah, baby?" He quirked his brow up, his own soft groans almost mocking yours. "You want her to hear you? She still next door, wake her ass up mama. She kept you up all night didn't she?" He asked tearing his fingers away from your nipples to slap firmly against your cheek prompting an answer from you.
"Yessss," you slurred out, throat raw from moaning and groaning. You'd say yes to anything he asked you in this moment. You'd adopt six German kids and live on a farm with him if he requested you to do so in this moment, the world was his oyster. He was digging you out so good, so deliciously good. He was getting more than your rocks off and you knew that when the pressure in the pit of your tummy came weighing down on your bladder. "Ooouuu fuck! Fuck I'm gonna—"
"Yeah," he chuckled, evil all evident in his tone, all in his smile as he glanced down to the mess unfolding between y'all, "wet this dick up baby, I feel that shit." He groaned, eyes zoning in on the creamy ring you were leaving around him. "Wet me up, and you better wake her ass up when you do."
"Cumming!" You abruptly announced nearly cutting him off from his lewd rant, the sounds of your own arousal clashing with his dick sent you tumbling over the edge, clear juices spurting out of you with so much force it ejected him out as well. It only prompted a more lazy laugh out of him, shaking the suction of the rose on your clit even faster. Trembling underneath him, your breath hitched in your throat as he sent you into complete overdrive, your voice was hoarse once a moan came tumbling out of you loud and broken. Why did you cum so hard from knowing that she was next door, possibly hearing you get your nut off with him?
"I like that shit, mama," he mumbled to you, turning the rose off slapping his free hand down on your clit, watching your body jerk in response. He said nothing dipping his body down momentarily to give your soft, sensitive nub three sloppy, mind numbing sucks. He was so loud and lewd with it, smacks loud, tongue slurping loudly. You were too turned on, too sensitive, but too fucked out to even object given how sensitive you were. He stood up on his knee once again, other floor planted flat on the ground. "Sticking up so pretty f'me and shit," he hummed, "put that ass in the air, I'm finna give her some more."
You whined, you were too tired to move. If this was sex? What the fuck were you having before? And he seemed to insatiable, how was he asking you for more when you already so tattered from your last orgasm?
"Can't," you weakly managed to get out.
He took the initiative to help you, his hands firmly grasping your hips and flipping you over roughly, bringing your hips up into the air, spreading out so nicely for him. He moaned in response, looking at how both your holes seemed to open for him. He slapped his massive hand against your ass cheek, the loud sound seemingly filling your quiet apartment, a high wince following behind it, his dick twitching at the recoil. "You gon be a good girl for daddy and hold this shit on your clit while I take care of you back here?" He asked you the dominating reference only furthering the throbbing in your pussy, one hand softly kneading the sting out from his slap. You could hear the quiet buzzing from behind you, head nodding eagerly as your hand reached from under you, making grabby motions for the toy.
Once it was in your possession, you placed it where he asked you, body lightly trembling since your clit hadn't had a moment long enough without stimulation. Both his large hands had been planted on your ass cheeks, spreading you apart for him. He groaned in response, spitting down onto your second hole winking for him so sweetly, you moaned in response to his lewd action. "Fuck yeah," he muttered sending another lighter slap to your ass. No further words were spoken as he grabbed his girthy member in his hands, fat tip rubbing softly against your slit before he stretched you open once again around him.
A loud whine erupted from you as soon as you felt him sliding into you, stretching you, the light sting providing the perfect pain to compliment the pleasure of him literally stuffing you. It was mind numbing for him, feeling you stretch and clench around him so perfectly, gummy, wet walls feeling so warm and snug around him. "Pussy so fuckin' good," he muttered not sure to who, you or him.
His strokes had already started off staggering; hard and deep. Pelvis slamming into your ass with loud, rippling sounds through your apartment, the force literally nudging your couch across the floor. You couldn't care about the scratches you knew were now engrained in your hardwood flooring, everything was so good. Too good.
"Fuckkkk!" You slurred out, eyes fluttering closed, face pressed against the plush cushions beneath you. Brainless wasn't the word for you. You were hyper focused on the pleasure you were receiving, the vibrations from the toy, Terry's back breaking strokes, and the sounds of your arousal around him didn't help the diagnosis. Your free hand held onto the top of the couch for a sense of stability. "Why—why you fuckin' me like this?!" You stammered out through a moan, voice hoarse and broken.
"What you mean, mama?" He asked through a groan, sending another rough slap to your ass. "You such a good girl, you deserve this dick. Workin' all hard and shit, always lookin' so fuckin' good." He grunted, working himself inside of you. Thumb tracing your asshole teasingly. "You deserve some good dick, baby."
The praise only heightened your moans, encouraging you to slam your ass back on him until you felt your own orgasm once again lurking around the corner.
"Show the fuck out, then, baby," he said breathlessly, stilling his own movements as he watched as you fucked yourself on his dick, ass slamming back onto his pelvis with dizzying recoil.
"Shiiiit! I'm finna cummmm!" You moaned out, your movements only increasing in pace, using him for your own pleasure now. And he ate that shit up.
"That's right, get that nut mama. Get yo' shit, fuck me," he affirmed through a series of groans accentuating your own, "fuck, I feel all that shit. Nasty ass bitch, get that nut." His dirty words filling your ears as you released around him, halting your movements. Squirting for the second time, the orgasm hit you like a ton of bricks literally. This one cramped your muscles as it temporarily paralyzed you, huge steaks of pleasure coursing through you. Terry didn't give you a moment to recover, his own climax brewing in the background. He resumed his strokes as if he never stopped, powerful, fast and hard. The rose clobbered to the floor with a hard thud, still buzzing away as your body flattened into the couch, Terry using his upper body strength to drop dick in you.
"You runnin?" He asked breathlessly through a series of overstimulating strokes to your pussy. "Why you runnin? Daddy, let you get yours right? Let daddy get his." He hummed to you.
You couldn't tell him you were overstimulated. Could you talk at all? Were you even breathing? What the fuck even was this?
"Dick got you goin' stupid, look at you," he groaned, dick hitting that spot again, and again. You came again, with announcement. You hadn't even known you were that close again. "Fuck, you keep cummin' on my dick."
Your voice came back to you in little squeals, nodding in agreement to his last statement.
"Pussy so good—I'm finna nut baby," his voice rushed and panicked as he kept up his strokes, "fuck I'm finna nut—shit!" He hurriedly pulled out of you, groans and grunts spilling from him earnestly as warm, ropes of cum painted your ass.
That was so unreal.
You focused on steadying yourself as you heard Terrys whispered curses behind you. It wasn't long before you heard his lazy chuckle, soft lips kissing down your spine causing a small chill to sneak through you. "You good?"
"Yes? I dunno," you answered bleakly, voice rasped out. Terry laughed gently, hands rubbing some warmth into your thighs and midsection.
"You enjoyed yourself?" He asked softly, kissing up to your neck, and shoulder tenderly. You nodded eagerly to his question, earning another chuckle for him. He sounded so good. "I'm glad, where towels at pretty girl. Lemme clean you up."
"Bathroom closet," you jammed your finger in the direction of the closet. You were halfway into a slumber when Terry came back with a warm towel, cleaning you up gently.
You knew for a fact it was gonna be a lot of noise coming from the both of your apartments.
-
still don't have a tag list together but I hope y'all enjoyed another toxic Terry fic 🫡 my favorite Terry after all! Happy Friday! 💗
coming out of my college induced hiatus and wanting to write about yahya as creasy 😩
Naughty or Nice
masterlist
pairing: smoke x annie cw: smut, roleplaying, fluff summary: christmas is always a favorite Moore family holiday. kids running around, adults laughing, gifts opening. but what annie loves the most is this is the chance for her to show out in all ways. from how she dresses to the decorations. and this christmas is no different.
notes: so this was supposed to be out for christmas but ya girl been sick since monday and it’s messed up everything. also i tried writing my smut a little differently this time. lmk what yall think. merry christmas! happy holidays!
Time To Learn
Synopsis: When Tasha gets sent to the twins residence to house sit, she learns very quickly that their rules are meant to be followed.
Warnings: Mental health issues, angst, crying, Age gap, heavy smut, degrading, use of toys, DP, domxsub relationship, polyamorous, use of drugs.
Part 1
-
“I don’t understand why you have to leave for 4 months and why I can’t stay here.” Tasha argued for the 30th time this week.
Her mom, Loraine, rolled her eyes. “I told you, you need to learn what it’s like to have a real job and not just rely on my own money. You’re 23 now, Tasha. You’re not a kid anymore. It’s time you learn some responsibility.” She continued to grab clothes from her walk in closet, neatly folding them and placing them in her suitcase.
“Why do I need to have a real job when we’re rich?” Tasha sat the edge of her mothers bed, frustration written all over her face.
“Because you’re a spoiled brat who thinks everything needs to be handed to her, plus this is your punishment for crashing your third car.”
Tasha is a prodigy of music, a grade A college student that’s on the deans list, president of the mathletes club, captain of the majorette team AND three time champion of the national chess tournament.
please add me to your tag list
BLOOD OATH (chapter 2) • iamquaintrelle
# pairings: mob!lewis hamilton x black reader (☔️⚡️)
# tags: @queenshikongo3 @simplyyalika @peyiswriting @yeea-nah @nichmeddar @ggaslyp1 @henneseyhoe @pickingupmymercedes @donteventry-itdude @snowseasonmademe @szariahwroteit @amirawrah @beauty-gurl @jessnotwiththemess @sailurmewn @lewismcqueen @purplerain-94 @vintagesoul-01 @aykxz98 @thepointlessideas @lostennyc @saintslewis @cocobutterqwueen @purplelewlew @iamryanl @imjustheretomanifest @a-moment-captured
# summary: A marriage of convenience between crime families was supposed to be simple. No one mentioned it would be this complicated...or this deadly. series masterlist
previous chapter | next chapter
Your father's study was prepared for the occasion, the good whiskey displayed on the sideboard, legal documents arranged with careful precision on his desk. Uncle Paolo stood by the window, while your mother sat in one of the leather chairs, her posture perfect as always.
Unbowed - 51 (Sinners 2025)
There was no time to mourn the dead, they were already ashes blowing away with the cold wind. Chayton ordered everyone inside their homes for the day. I sat seated on his couch with some blankets over me. Isaac, Kene, Abigail, Talking Raven, and Marcus were with us. Chayton was on one knee before me, one hand holding mine and the other rubbing my stomach.
“They were able to run into the village without anyone sensing them.” Isaac said with a grave tone. Talking Raven nodded.
“Yes, which means the blood of the Africans holds more magic then we could ever know.” she said. Marcus looked toward the window with deep eyes.
“They will return.” he said. “I can feel it.”
“You think that Italian is going to send his army here in the day?” Kene asked. Chayton didn’t say anything, he just looked at me and my stomach, his thumb rubbing gentle circles over my knuckles and my swollen stomach.
“If he’s managed to feed an army of blood drinkers colored blood then they would have already come.” Isaac said looking down in thought. “No… night is still their best cover if they come, they will come tonight.”
I was listening to everyone’s words and finally another thought caught me. Annie. I leaned forward some making Chayton’s bod shift to hold me close.
“We have to go check on Annie… if they came here, they most likely have gone to our house first and saw we wasn’t there. Chayton, we have to go check on her, before the sun goes down.” I said. His eyes flickered with emotion as if he was finally snapped out of his thoughts and finally stood.
“We will check on Annie. Everyone stays in their homes and prepare for unholy threats to come for us tonight maybe even the next tight.” he said firmly. I looked up at him with a wince. I didn’t want to be without him.
“I want to go with you.” I said using my arms to push me from the couch. My weight was already bearing down on me as he gently, pushed my shoulders back down.
“You are in no condition to move right now. You will stay here.” he said. I shook my head gripping both his arms.
“I don’t want to be without you tonight.” I said my voice shaking. “That house is our home, and we have to protect it too.”
“We cannot afford to split ourselves up, not now.” Marcus warned. Chayton looked down in thought of our words and he looked at Marcus.
“I agree, but we need to check on Annie. We do everything before the sun goes down. Isaac, Kene go grab the others. You’ll be coming with me.” he said. Isaac and Kene nodded and moved firmly from the house. Talking Raven and Marcus moved beside me with Abigail as well.
“We will go with you. I want to speak with Annie about African blood if she knows anything that could help us vanquish these demons.” she said. Abigail nodded.
“Me too.” she replied. Chayton looked around and nodded.
“We move in thirty.” he said. Everyone nodded and began to move. Chayton took my hand and helped me up. “You stay at the house, no leaving for any reason after sundown.”
I nodded and he began to move from the house.
As we Chayton drove in his truck, Thomas and James were in the bed of the truck, guns out and ready. Everyone else was on horses leading the down the way to our home. The horses were for both riding and warning of intruders. I looked out at the trees as they passed by, my hands gently rubbing my stomach. I hoped Annie was okay. As much as I love that house, I was more worried for her. I feel Chayton’s calloused hand gently curl around my left hand and I looked at him, giving his hand a squeeze. He didn’t look at me, his eyes were hard and he was focused, but his hand in mine was what gave me my peace, that showed me he was with me.
Thirty-five minutes later, we were pulling up in front of the house. The sound of the horses was what made the front door open. Seeing Annie step out made me relieved as I stepped out of the truck.
“Annie, are you okay?” I asked as she stepped down off the porch looking at all of us confused.
“Yes, I’m fine. What’s going on?” she asked. Chayton stepped around the truck and over to me. Thomas and James were stepping out the truck and they were moving to bring the horses around to the back to give them water from the lake.
“Vampires attacked the tribe.” Chayton announced. Annie stiffened.
“Anyone hurt?” she asked.
“We lost a few people. They came in started biting people immediately to distract us as they came for Nysa.” he announced. Annie winced.
“Did you see anyone around the tree lines?” Talking Raven approached. Annie shook her head.
“No… They came during the day? Why would they be so bold?” she asked. Talking Raven looked at Chayton who looked at Annie.
“We have fire keepers in our tribe… the singing must have been too strong for the blood drinkers to stay away.” she explained. Annie winced.
“You all must have some strong magic in your music for even vampires to risk death to come to you in broad daylight what had colored blood in them.” she said.
“Let’s talk inside. My men will keep watch around the house.” Chayton ordered and the five of us went inside. We sat in the living room and Chayton explained everything that Alessio had said about believing my blood could let them permanently walk in the sun and how the vampires that attacked us earlier weren’t sensed at all.
“Have you any knowledge on colored blood having that type of power?” Talking Raven asked. Annie was slowly walking the living room thinking.
“African blood ain’t all the same, from tribe to tribe many believe different things- magic is different in those who use it.” she said and looked at Chayton. “And you said this vampire… this Alessio used magic to see into Miles Carrington to poison yo’ trackin’?”
Chayton nodded.
“Yes. He knew magic. He was able to see into Miles soul.” he said.
“He said something about me being the granddaughter of slaves- that my blood was of an ancient civilization.” I said rubbing my stomach in stress. Chayton’s hand rubbed over my stomach as well. Annie nodded.
“If this vampire knows about African bloodlines, he may have practiced what magic he knows from an African vampire older than most.” She said.
“So colored blood’s magic runs deep then.” Talking Raven said. Annie nodded slowly.
“Yes, and it seems it gives vampires ability to hide from Choctaw’s spiritual means. If this vampire believes Nysa’s blood is what can bring them into the sun forever then we must do something and soon because if they get her blood and walk in the sun, they could infect everyone faster than the bubonic plague ever could.” she said.
“We need to be ready.” Chayton said. “Stakes need to be made; medicine bags need to be around everyone’s necks.”
Suddenly, a sharp pain hits my stomach, and I cried out in pain and hunched over making Chayton’s eyes shoot to me and he was at my side again.
“Nysa what is it!” he asks quickly. My stomach was hurting so bad.
“I don’t know. But my stomach is killing me!” I moan out in pain.
“Quickly, let’s get her to bed. Annie, Abigail help me” Talking Raven says. Annie nodded.
“Of course.” Abigail says both of them moving about the house as Talking Raven instructs them. Chayton, in all his strength, swoops me off my feet like a bride and carries me down to the room. I cry out more as they all follow me. I’m lied down in the bed, Chayton gentle cradles my head as he laid me against the pillow.
“I’m here my heart.” he said gently. Talking Raven enters and moves to sit between my legs. She pulls up my dress a bit.
“There’s blood. All this happening could have stressed out her baby.” she informed. Chayton kept his hand in mine as I cried gently. Abigail came in with some towels.
“Annie’s boiling some water.” she said. I groan as I squeeze Chayton’s hands.
“Her water hasn’t broken… but there is no way to tell if she’ll go into labor early.” Talking Raven explained. I was afraid, more so for my baby than anything else. I hoped he or she was okay!
Normal POV
1 hour before sundown
Ambrose Meyers had his own problem to deal with, an all-white mob yelling and screaming in front of his jail. Three houses, three white family’s were butchered and torn apart. Well the whites of Coahoma County had enough. They were armed at the teeth, torches and hounds with them.
“Them injuns were killin’ niggers and now they’re comin’ after decent white folk!” one of them yelled. Everyone began to nod and shout in agreement,
“The hounds have been all up and down their land, who’s to say they ain’t what killed Butch too!” another shouted and everyone agreed.
“Ya’ll need to get on out the street now! We ain’t find no bodies on any land ya’ll was all there!” Ambrose yelled.
“Them dirty injuns probably chopped up Henry Shaw and the rest of ‘em and attacked the others in their own houses and slipped out before anyone seen ‘em!” a third yelled. Ambrose’ voice was drowned out by the fear, the anger, and the hatred.
“Let’s go get em’!” someone shouted and all the men’s and young boys nodded as they now turned and began to walk down the street from their town making their way to the reservation. Ambrose growled out in frustration before moving into his own truck and driving off he had to get to Chayton first.
Standing high in a tree behind the jail house was Alessio, eyes cold and dead as he watched the angry mob begin to move. A match has been lit tonight, and the fire will spread. Dante, the last remaining vampire and family stood on the branch next to him watching the mob move.
“If we allow them to make it to the reservation, they’ll kill them all and go after the colored neighborhood next. That blood will be wasted” His cousin growled. Alessio was quiet for a moment. He knew this, he always knew this. He was angry, angrier than he had ever felt in a very long time. His brother was gone. He was alone now.
“Let’s use this to our advantage. I need more puppets anyways.” he purred looking down at the ground as some of his own hive members, white men, began to slip into the mob and disappear. They won’t bite just yet; they’ll wait until they reach the forest. “We wear the Indians down… then you bring her to me. We kill everyone else.”
“Vendetta.” Dante hisses and nods. Alessio nodded slowly.
“Vendetta.” He replies.
Taglist
@unsatisfiedanddisappointed
@jamera-ash
@butterflyybabe
@jamaicanqueen007
@danjsg1fan
@marvelbitcheshoe
@avidreader73
@riellarielle25
@light-yagami-l
@tirigang
Magnolias Don’t Bloom Quietly
The Remedy Series | a Modern AU Smoke x Annie
Summary: Love deepens, futures shift, and quiet choices collide beneath celebration—while unseen eyes finally decide to step out of the dark.
CW: Explicit sexual content, rough consensual sex, wall sex, oral sex (f receiving), squirting, overstimulation, creampie, unprotected sex, pregnant sex, praise, possessive dirty talk, light manhandling.
WC: 11k
When you get to the part the header: Magnolias and Music...play the song. 🥰