Rayna Kreese (my OC) journeys to California to take care of her great Uncle John Kreese. She is spicy and mouthy, just like the Kreese blood that runs in her veins. Rayna joins Cobra Kai, meeting her uncle's dear friend, Terry Silver. Terry sees what he likes and Rayna falls for him.
**Up and completed**
Begin Chapter 1 Here
His Wants
Ella Graeves (OC) worked at Encino Oaks Country Club for some months, as well as a bar downtown just to make ends meet. What happens when Terry Silver comes into the Country Club and in the end asks her out on a date? One thing is for certain: there is nothing that Terry Silver wanted that he didn't get. Terry wants Ella.
Silver Buttons
Jessi Gray (OC) owned and operated one of the best tailoring shops in the Valley. Creating and altering everything from suits to ballgowns, you name it, she can make it. Just so happens her little shop is right next door to the new and improved flagship Cobra Kai. Terry Silver breezes in one day with a request.
****Up and Completed****
Begin Chapter 1 here
Serpent's Love
Tori Nichol's had an older sister who was adopted long before she was born. Stella Jones (OC) loved her family, doting on Tori and Mama along with little Brandon. Stella was one of the most notorious fighters in the Valley back in the day before her nursing career took priority. John Kreese and Terry Silver thought, 'what better teacher than a champion to teach a dojo full of potential champions.'
***Up and Completed***
Begin chapter 1 here
Cash Fic:
Department Blues
Cashton Ewing had taken the new recruit under his wing when she first began at the department. Maya (OC) had a knack for the job, cracking cases and throwing baddies in prison. Maya finds herself in an awful situation once Cash begins to find a liking to the crime that he fought. The feelings between the pair go unspoken for many years, will the deadly situation Maya finds herself in be enough to bring Cash back?
**Up and completed**
Begin Chapter 1 here
Gus Travis fic:
The Bad Boy
Katrina (Kat) Monroe (OC) left the rodeo and her family from rural Texas when she was young. Finding the love of the ocean took her to the east coast. Meeting Gus Travis, the once notorious thief, was this going to be a good thing or bad thing once she gets wrapped up in everything he's got going on? Will Gus love bombing her make her stay or is he a changed man? All Kat knows is that she found herself enamored by Gus, entering a 'hoe phase' for this man is what she had planned. *[THANK YOU @virgo-mess for the gifs of Gus đ„Čđ„č]*
***These can all be found on my wattpad. I am beginning to post them all here for more people to view. My wattpad handle is SecretKeeper94 if anyone is interested! I have all of these posted there, all are completed save for The Bad Boy, which I am still working on***
- jacuzzi scene (âSĂ Gabriela, un momento por favorâ lives rent free in my mind)
- the fact that you can tell he had a Vietnam flashback when Kwon dies. I donât think he necessarily felt bad, just shocked. imo it was neat how the camera focused on his face in particular when they heard him scream.
- The fact he was still proud of Kenny despite him not joining Iron Dragons
- When he said âMr. Miyagi was the greatest man I ever knewâ on tv as a dig at Daniel. Obv it was a callback to his poorsona troll era and him being fake but when you think about it, itâs actually true.âŠI always wonder if Terry was jealous of Mr. Miyagi in some way, even back in kk3.
- His ponytail doesnât have the curly thing at the end anymore (controversial opinion???)
- Dennis being a loyal henchman <3
Things I am not accepting as canon in S6
- everything else
- Terry being spelled as âTerranceâ and not âTerrenceâ. Feels wrong. Inorganic. I know in my heart it is an e.
- The fact we never saw him go full bond villain.
- all of the MISSED POTENTIAL
âšThings I am on the fence about
- Russian gangster Adidas tracksuit fit
- No redemption (Iâm lowkey happy he wasnât redeemed but imho he was more redeemable than Kreese)
Anyway, love being an anonymous freak in your inbox <3
---
My response to the things you liked:
â Agreed. I generally enjoyed every scene where the writers allowed Terry to be his usually hedonistic self and I think we desperately needed more of that and what's most important --- new, original eccentricities he gets into, not just ones referenced and recycled in the movies. Give us new things. Put him on a golf course. Let him endorse some sleazy politician. Show him with an exotic animal pet. This is a villain that thrives on extravaganza and when you don't let him do his usual Terry things the plot suffers for it.
â Yep. Kwon dying was definitely a Vietnam flashback for Terry. A kid getting killed in a championship hall isn't all that different from a kid killed on a battlefield...or it could even be a distant echo of a kid Terry himself killed on the battlefield or witnessed the same being done; it is just a shame we didn't get more Nick Marini purely for its own sake and seeing him fall down that dark path he's been walking ever since we were introduced to this character.
â Terry being weirdly proud of Kenny despite of Kenny hating him is...đ„ș
â Oh, yes, Terry was undeniably jealous of Mr. Miyagi; the movie even implies this when Terry's fingers linger on those medals and he gives a disgustingly decrepit smile; Mr. Miyagi will always be the war hero he is not and in a way, that stings, Terry's reaction being one of stolen valor in the making, where he almost wishes he was the decorated one and if he cannot be, well, he will destroy and peg down the person who is and live vicariously through him at least through mention alone, decades later. Buy out his dojo, steal his students and hijack his legacy, face stealer and skin walker that he is.
â The ponytail with the screw curls was a bit funky, admittedly, but hey ho, I don't mind it.
â Literally, they allowed this man one loyal character that sticks by his side until the end; like, Jesus Christ, the narrative that only good individuals have people around them and the bad ones are perpetually lonely is so fake and untrue I was glad to see they changed tact in the last minute and gave Terry the quintessential devoted henchman.
My response to the things you didn't like:
â Yeah, season six is was so messy it is futile to even deconstruct it.
â I always spelled it with an 'e'. Years back. Feels weird to do anything but. Almost like a running gag the show runners were aware of at one point. Everyone keeps misspelling and missaying Terry Silver's name; his supposed friends, the media, news outlets. Almost like something-something, legacy, nobody will even remember his name...well enough to get it right.
â No full-on Bond villainy and a lot of missed potential, yes; in fact, Terry's on the phone with a perplexed look on his face in vague gray hallways for most of season six. Tremendous shame. To have Griffith out of retirement and do nothing all that impressive in the finale with that privilege is a waste.
â Ah, yes, Terry's retired Russian oligarch on a Yacht look. I don't hate it, I don't love it; in general, do we all remember how impressive (and even slightly unhinged) Terry's outfits were in the movies? I get the feeling everything they put him was very understated by the end and made him seem washed out and dull --- not exactly clothes that will be necessarily referenced or remember by anyone, unlike the white Satin Gi or the red ascot suit. Put that man in jewel tones, for the love of God.
â No redemption arc, please. I don't need Cobra Kai pulling a Fast and the Furious and have Johnny and Daniel nonironically having a family barbeque with the men who tried to kill them multiple times and who destroyed their childhoods and subsequently, at least a large chunk of their adulthood too, c'mon now. It is okay in fanficworld, but anywhere outside of it is just narratively perplexing.
Do you have any headcanons on Gus Travis? I've just watched Black Point and I think I'm in love đ
Him?
â Gus Travis has a major problem with jealousy. Why? Because outside of having a natural propensity for doubt (maybe due to the nature of his job, being a career criminal where you have to watch your back, against everyone, at all times) his wife betrayed him in the past and ran off with another man covertly acting as an informant and Gus' boss' money. Almost sounds like the typical entanglement in the life of someone on the wrong side of law enforcement hiding out in a small port town on the borders of Alaska and Washington state, but the event left Gus reeling, even less trusting and somehow, even more territorial and fidgety when it comes to love as a mere concept. In short notes, Gus Travis is as jaded as can be.
â Which means, despite seeming like the type who has had his share of easy sex, easy cash, easy profit, murky jobs, shady deals, Gus doesn't fall in love easily. Not before the event and certainly not after. He's a rough man, with a rough exterior, rough manners, a rough job and initially, he doesn't seem like the type to care for such things at all, but the opposite is very much true because internally, he's someone who tends to fall and fall hard which has left him messed up in the past. In his words, I treated her like a princess and gave her the world and this is how she repays me? He doesn't want that happening again and so, when he meets you, his first instinct is to be standoffish and stay away from you. Better yet, warn you to say away from him.
â Might have the typical gangbanger 'Do you know who I am?' or 'Do you know who you're dealing with?' vibe about him purely to push you away, even though he's quite as likely to contradict himself and be the one pursuing you. Gus overflows with clashing emotions where he isn't certain if he'd rather scare you away or lay his claim on you and make you his. Maybe just visit some nearby, shady portside pub and get himself someone who looks just like you; a whore, a hooker, a one night stand, anything, and get you out of his system through fucking someone else, not that that helps one bit at all and everyone either looks too much like you or not at all and he always comes back to craving the real deal, and he hasn't...well, he hasn't even laid a finger on you yet.
â Thing is, as I said above, Gus loves deeply. A surprising amount for someone who could only be labeled a bad boy and something of a thug in the most classical sense. The type of love that has him tattooing your name somewhere on his body --- maybe next to his heart, perhaps way before you even know it...or him --- wearing maching clothes, wearing matching rings and bracelets and necklaces. Where he dreams of buying a boat one day, sailing out with a bunch of cash, and naming it after you, as his muse, his lucky north, his compass. Where he sees you as his near overromanticized mythical being. His mermaid. His selkie. His siren. Interesting how someone otherwise so bitter and disappointed with love also has the amazing capacity of being borderline poetically idealistic.
â Of course, the nature of his career criminal leanings and rough and tough sailor and streetwise lifestyle might not exactly allow for him to express his idealistic side outright because there's a reputation to maintain and part of him doesn't want to. And yet, he still desperately does to the point his cravings are making him volatile. He fears being a fool in love again. He fears his men viewing him as a fool in love too. So, he might come off a bit hostile and passive aggressive; like someone who has a general distaste for you, which is far from true, his behaviour ranging anywhere from acosting you in public or god forbid, anyone you might be out on a date with, because he's fatally jealous. Gus can't handle himself or the gravitas of his feelings around you and he protects himself through what he feels is nessecary. Through being a bit of a bastard.
â It doesn't remain unnoticed though; just how much attention Gus Travis is giving you, even if this attention is masked through the guise of negative social interactions. It all becomes suspicious, though. The sheer quantity and volume of it. Him stalking you, catcalling you from his car, threatening to goddamn near shoot anyone else who dares, honking his horn at you, bullying you one minute and then flirting the next, harassing your friends and suitors out in bars or restaurants, having them scared away from you or outright beat up so they'd be afraid to stay in touch with you, being pushy, intrusive, threatening and petulant, having his men follow you around covertly and report back to him on your daily whereabouts, offering to lend you money so you'd be indebted to him, breaking into your place, kidnapping attempts. You name it!
â Ultimately, you will be his, and his grip on you will be tighter than any relationship he ever had before because he dreads losing you like he's lost meanigful people in the past and it has his possessive tendencies flaring up dramatically; he will correct the mistakes he made before you came along, he swears it. Realistically, he is difficult. Very difficult. He is difficult because he overcompensates. Overcalculates. Over-worries. He questions every interaction, every glance, ever action, imaginary or real, towards someone else from you or from you to someone else because the dread of you being whisked away from under him is acute, and so, most people never even discover Gus Travis even has anyone serious as you're his most fiercely guarded treasure. Hell, not even most of his men and crooks know. And if nobody knows you exist and you're merely abducted one day --- missing posters riddling your home town, only for you never to be found again, then nobody can coax you away from him in the future.
I've recently written a few Silver fics, all of which belong in the same universe. I wanted to take a moment to chronicle then for easier reference.
Young - Terry Silver dating a younger woman he met as a waitress, then brings you into high society as his date. A love letter to the controversially young gf trope.
Mine - Daniel confronts Terry over his treatment of you, leading to his exile from society.
Jealousy - Terry urges you to quit your job, promising to take care of you as only he knows how.
Hurt - Terry beats the shit out of Daniel, who comes for your help one last time.
Home - Terry goes to dojo to deal with the break-in, unknowingly leaving you alone with Chozen, Ben, and Johnny. Daniel couldnât warn them in time about you.
Prompt: Terry Silver dating a younger woman he met as a waitress. Now she's in high society with him. Controversially young gf for real. (Reader is of age!! I imagined her as 25ish.)
It had been a slow Tuesday the first time you had served him. With your only other regular having just left, Terry was the only customer in your section. Nights like these used to be the bane of your existence at your old job - barely making enough in tips to pay for a tank of gas. Here, though, every dish was expensive enough to guarantee a decent tip. You had to split it with the kitchen, but it was often still enough to make a shift like this worth it.
Armed with the most charming smile you could muster, you approached the silver-haired man. âGood evening, Iâll be taking care of you this evening,â you began your usual spiel. With your words, he finally looked up. Once his eyes met yours, they didnât leave. Not to look at the menu, or gaze around the room in ponderance - he looked only at you. His eyes didnât leave yours until you walked to the kitchen to put his order in. He smiled when you returned with his wine glass.
âSlow night?â he asked before pulling his first sip. He groaned softly at the taste. âThatâs divine.â
You smiled with pride. âThank you. And yes, it is. Tuesdays almost always are. Youâre my only customer right now, actually.â
âIs that so?â He motioned to the empty seat across from him. âIâll make it worth your while, then.â
You couldnât fight the blush that rose to your cheeks. You hadnât known him, then, but you knew you were attracted to him. âThank you,â
âTerry. Terry Silver,â he filled in, extending a hand to you.
âMr. Silver,â you smiled, meeting your hand to his. He gripped it softly before pulling it to his lips for a brush of a kiss. âItâs nice to meet you, sir.â
âNo âsirâ tonight. Tonight, Iâm just a man having dinner with the prettiest woman in this place,â he charmed.
You pursed your lips to avoid breaking into a cheesy smile. âOkay.â
You didnât know what to ask him, everything seemed too personal for a waitress to be asking a guest. For a while you just sat there, letting his eyes wander your face, seeming to drink in every last detail. You studied him, as well. He was beautifully put together, in a way only an older man can be. You could tell that, despite his age, he was still built under his well-tailored suit. Your mind started to crawl to what was underneath before his voice pulled you back. âHow long have you worked here, dear?â
âAbout six months now. Itâs been good to me, here.â
âWhat did you do before this?â
âI was still a waitress, but at a much worse place with a lot more creeps.â
Terry grimaced. âIâm sorry you had to deal with that.â
You shrugged. âThey tipped well, sometimes, so I guess I canât complain.â
He asked you a few more questions before you were called back to the kitchen to run his food. You let him eat in peace, running to the back to finish up your side work. A small rush came in at the end of his meal, drawing you from him in his last minutes there. He left quickly after paying and you didnât get a chance to open his checkbook until your shift was over. Tucked neatly into the pocket was five crisp hundred dollar bills and a note on the receipt. âYou shouldnât need harassment for a good tip.â
He became a regular after that, always Tuesday evening a few hours before close. He took a corner table, and you joined him as he drank his wine. Sometimes you asked about him, but he got more enjoyment out of asking about you. In the couple months of his visits, heâd learned you have three cats, went to college for marketing, donât like tomatoes, love the beach, are allergic to penicillin and have never broken a bone. In addition to hundreds of other facts heâd drawn out of you. The most notable that you were single. As was he. Heâd also learned that you had to tip-share, so he made a great deal to ensure that your tips were just for you, when he handed them over. Making sure to leave the back of the house their own, smaller, tip.
The day before Valentineâs was always your favorite shift. It was filled with families, girl groups, lonely men, and B-string relationships. You didnât have enough fingers to count the men you would see with one girl on the 13th and a completely new one the next day. These men werenât above flirting with you through their wallets, and you licked it up. You even unbuttoned your shirt past the regulatory guidelines, cause fuck it. What was a write-up compared to a couple hundred bucks in tips?
It was on the 13th that Terry made his (now weekly) visit, requesting to be sat in your section, as always. âGood evening, Mr. Silver. Could I start you off with a glass of red this evening? We have a wonderful collection for the occasion.â
He chuckled deeply. âDealerâs choice. Make it worth my time.â As you smiled and turned away, he caught your arm. âAnd you know Iâm not Mr. Silver here. not to you.
Your smile deepened. âOf course. Terry.â
A moment later you returned with a bottle of your fanciest red and a single glass in hand. Holding the top of bottle even with your chest, you could see him peak a glance at your breasts. You smiled brightly, "Will this do, Terry? I can give you a taste, if you'd like."
That was what finally caught him off guard. "What? Oh, yes, please." Now it was his turn to blush as you popped off the cork. "That's good," he said once an inch of wine filled his glass. You watched intently as he drank it, savoring the low growl he emitted once it hit his throat. "Excellent. You can keep them coming."
"Yes, sir," you smiled. His breath caught in his throat as you made eye contact with him, filling his glass a bit too full for company standards. "Anything else I can help you with, Terry?"
He shook his head, rolling his tongue over his top teeth. "No. Not right now."
You practically skipped back to the kitchen. After months of teasing and flirting, you'd rendered him speechless. And all it took was a little cleavage? If you'd known that you would've dressed like that every time he came in.
You wanted to talk to him for the rest of the evening - to sit across from him like any other couple on a date. You wanted to be his, unequivocally and fully. With each visit to his table, you lingered, allowing him to pull you into pieces of conversation. When it was time to leave the check, you hesitated. Something about this evening felt different. You didn't want him to leave. When you returned for the final time, he had the checkbook in hand. Had you made him wait too long? Was he upset with you?
"Thanks for spending your Valentine's Day with us, Terry," you smiled at him. Even seated, he was barely shorter than you.
"With you, dear. I spent it with you."
He caused you to blush this time, and you couldn't stop the laugh that pulled through you. "Well, I enjoyed spending it with you."
"As did I." He stood, leaning into you for only a moment. "I hope you're not pulling this routine with all your customers," he laughed. "Because one day I will want you all to myself." He didn't even give you a moment to respond. He set the checkbook within your hands and left with a suave wink.
With flushed cheeks and a still-too-fast heart, you opened the checkbook. Above the signed restaurant copy, was the folded customer copy, bundling up at least ten hundred-dollar bills in tip. Before counting your stash, you unfolded the customer copy. Written right above his signature were three word that ignited a bomb inside your core.
My good girl.
You shouldâve been offended. How was he going to write that to you and then leave? He'd done nothing to make you his other than tipping an exorbitant amount. You shouldâve stalked him into the parking lot and slapped some sense into him. But you didnât. Because you fucking liked it. When he asked for your number at his next visit, you were practically foaming at the mouth to hand it over. Youâd been charmed by a fucking snake.
And now you were in its den.
You had never been in high society before. You stood tall in a pair of too-high heels and a never-worn dress, clutching nervously to Terryâs outstretched elbow. He was the picture of grace, fitted expertly in a navy-blue suit that he looked absolutely sinful in. You felt out of place and paid for. There was no world in which you belonged at a charity gala, clung to the most expensive man in the room.
You knew that Terry was influential. You knew he was rich. You did not know that he lived in a mansion on the coast, nor that he regularly hosted charity events and galas there. He hadn't even wasted time feeling you out at this event before inviting you to an even fancier gala in three weeks' time. Also at his house. To say you were overwhelmed was an understatement. The unease only made you cling to Terry harder.
âTerry Silver?â a man called from behind you. His tone was hard, and you tensed instinctively. Terry didnât release you as he turned to face the source of the voice. It belonged to Daniel LaRusso; the man youâd bought your car from a few months after starting your job at the restaurant. There should be no way he remembered you, but his eyes seemed to flicker in recognition before turning back to Terry. âWhat are you doing here?â
âI feel that I should be asking you that. This is my home, of course.â
âTerry graciously offered to host this evening,â the smiling woman speaking to Daniel and his wife explained. âHeâs one of our top donors.â
âAre you trying to impress me?â you laughed, breaking the tense silence.
âI wish. Iâd have saved a lot of money if I just started contributing when I met you, dear,â he laughed in response.
âI didnât realize you two knew each other!â the woman exclaimed, excitedly looking between Terry and Daniel. She finally looked at you, âIâm Eva, by the way. One of the board members.â You quickly shook her outreached hand.
Terry smiled. âWeâve known each other for, what, 30, 35 years?â
âLonger than sheâs been alive, at least,â Daniel shot back behind a smile. Your skin crawled at his words, embarrassment flushing your cheeks.
Eva haltered. âLet me show you around!â She led Danielâs wife away quickly, leaving you flustered and practically clinging to Terry.
Daniel took a step closer to you, words frantic. âWhat are you doing here? With him?â
Daniel LaRusso was apparently the only person willing to admit you didnât fit in here. âIâm Terryâs date,â you said, sheepishly. Terryâs hold on you tightened.
Daniel grimaced. âWhatâs he paying you? I can double it if you leave now and never speak to him again.â
Your face burned. He didnât just think you were out of place, he thought you were Terryâs paid whore. Terry took a step forward, partially shielding you behind him. âI know what youâre insinuating and I do not care for it. Iâve paid her nothing to be here with me, nor has she asked me to. Iâm insulted you would suggest that.â Terry exhaled sharply. âI would think twice before insulting me again.â
Daniel didnât even look at you. âCome on, Terry. Youâre twice her age. Donât do this to her.â
âAnd what do you think Iâm doing to her, Daniel?" he laughed, charm oozing from his words. "Paying her off to be with me? Threatening her into attending fundraisers? As I said before, sheâs not a woman for sale. I would urge you not to insinuate as such.â
He pulled you away before Daniel could say another word. âIâm sorry about that, dear. Iâm afraid that man sees me as his nemesis. His views were not reflected on you, but me.â
âItâs okay, Terry,â you laughed. âI thought it was kind of hot.â
That got his attention. âReally?â
âYou, defending my honor. Towering over the guy,â you bit your lip. âHot.â
He took a shallow breath. âIf this wasnât at my house, Iâd drag you out of here right now.â You giggled, falling in closer to him. âYou want that? Want me to take care of you?â
You werenât laughing now, his tone suddenly serious. Heat rose to your chest as you nodded. âI do.â
âGood girl.â His hand settled at your waist, pulling you further into his estate.
Terry mingled gracefully, shaking hands and doling out introductions to everyone he came across that he deemed worth talking to. You would never remember all of their names, but you imagined these introductions were for their benefits more than yours. âIâm going to go down to my cellar to get a bottle of Aubert for us. Much better than what theyâre serving here.â
You had barely gotten over the fact that he had a fucking wine cellar in his house when Danielâs wife made her way over to you. âIâm Amanda,â she introduced with an outstretched hand. You took it and quickly introduced yourself. âSorry about my husband back there. He and Terry have been rivals forever, it seems.â She took a sip of her wine. âItâs all very silly, if you ask me.â
You smiled, thankful for at least one kind person here in Terryâs wake. âDonât worry about it. I know it looks like Iâm just with him for his money. It makes sense Mr. LaRusso would assume that.â
Amanda choked on her wine, coughing for a few seconds before finally drawing in a ragged breath. âHe did what now?â
âHe thought Terry paid me to be here with him. Offered me double to leave,â you laughed.
Amanda did not. âI am going to kill him. I am so so sorry,â she said before storming off.
âWhat was that?â Terry asked, suddenly appearing at your side.
You accepted the glass of wine from him. âI think sheâs going to kill her husband.â You took a sip of the wine and hummed. âThis is so much better than the stuff I serve you at work.â
âThat it is.â
The auction took place next, with a few key guests donating items to be auctioned off for the charity. Nothing was too notable until Daniel LaRusso auctioned off two bonsai trees. It was a good spiel, but at the end of the day they were just a couple trees. So imagine your surprise, when the bidding started at $2,000. And then people actually bid. You didnât even want to move in case Eva thought you were "in" and you accidentally bid a couple weeksâ worth of tips. It was creeping up for a while before Terryâs arm went up. â$30,000,â he spoke calmly, like he didnât just bid two yearsâ worth of rent on a couple tiny trees. You actually gasped at the number.
âYou okay, dear?â he whispered into your ear.
âMmhmm,â you respond quietly. âJust realized youâve really been skimping out on my tips.â Terry laughed before patting you gingerly on the thigh and standing to accept his winnings.
He wrapped an arm around you when he sat back down, stirring up another round of goosebumps and adrenaline. His proximity had you feeling high. "What are you going to do with them?"
"With the trees?" he asked. You nodded. "Figured I'd put one in my office and give the other to you."
Your breath hitched, which Terry immediately noticed. "What's wrong?"
"I don't know if you know this, but you just gave me a $15,000 tree," you said shakily.
"Don't flatter me that much. Most of it will be a tax write off."
"Terry, I don't even know what the fuck that means."
This drew a deep, full laugh out of him. "You don't need to, doll. I'll get one of my accountants to do your taxes this year. I'm sure they've gotten a lot more complicated since I started tipping. Although at some point, I feel like they should just be counted as gifts."
"Mm, they were gifts, were they?" you leaned into him. "I wasn't just a really good server?"
"No one is that good. I loved you from the moment I met you."
Love. He'd said 'love'. Not liked, not admired, but loved. Your heartbeats quickened and hands suddenly grew clammy.
"What's wrong, doll?" he asked, worry all over his face.
"I just don't feel well, all of the sudden."
"Do you want me to drive you home?
"No, I-" you stumbled over your words. "Could I just wait for you? Upstairs?"
"Of course, baby girl. Let me show you the way."
Terry led you into his home, guiding you up a stairwell behind the kitchen. "I have security at this event, so no one will bother you up here."
"Thank you. I'm really sorry."
"Don't apologize. I know it's overwhelming. I don't blame you for needing a moment to yourself."
The door closest to the stairs belonged to his bedroom. It was elegant, and dark, and so, so him. A massive king-sized bed sat in front of a fully glass wall facing the ocean. You immediately were drawn to it, pulling the curtains open an inch more to stare at the crashing waves. "Terry, your home is gorgeous."
"It could be yours, too, you know?"
You turned quickly to look at him, to try and find a hint of a joke in his face. You found none. "I couldn't."
"I'm an old man, dear. I've lived a full life and the only thing I've gotten from it is an empty home in need of someone to fill it. I've lived long enough to know what I want. And I want you. All to myself."
"I - I don't know what to say. Those people out there all think I'm after your money. They're going to think I extorted those words out of you somehow."
"They won't. Everyone downstairs knows my character. They know you couldn't draw a fucking syllable from my lips that I didn't want to utter."
You paused, not wanting to move a muscle in case the illusion broke, and you woke up back in your bed at home. "So, you meant it when you said you loved me?"
"I don't say anything I don't mean."
You took one small step closer. "You love me?"
He smiled. "I love you."
You closed the space between you, standing only a few inches away from him. He towered over you like this, looking down from so close.
"You don't have to say it back," he reassured you. "You don't even have to feel it yet. But I do. And I need you to know that."
He didn't move from his stance, arms held clutched behind his back. You needed to make the first move. It had been so long since you'd been with someone, you barely knew how. And even then, they'd mostly been flings. No one had pulled on your heart like he had. No one had felt as real as he had.
You started with both hands on his chest, holding loosely to the lapels of his suit. His breath and gaze remained steady, still waiting on you to move further. Slowly, one hand slinked up from his chest to his face, fingers locking into the nape of his neck. Your fingers brushed across his hairline, connecting with the few strands that had slipped from his ponytail. Still, he stood firm.
With your hand planted on his neck, you leaned up to him, hoping your fingers would push him down to meet you in the middle. He obliged, finally moving slightly. There, in his bedroom, steps from the sea, you kissed him for the first time. He was warm and strong and sturdy, tethering you to the earth. Once your lips hit his, he finally moved, wrapping one arm around your waist and sinking the other into your hair. He would grab a handful, then release it, only to grab another. The other arm pulled you flush to him, refusing even an inch of room from him. He needed you against him, breath hot and heavy and intermixed with his. He needed to make you feel good, to pull moans from your lips like hymns from a chorus.
He would've taken you right there had it not been for the knock on the door. You tried to push away from him, to hide what you were doing from the outside world, but Terry held you firm to him. "Yes?" he called out.
"Eva's looking for you, Mr. Silver," the voice spoke back.
Terry groaned softly, forehead pushing into yours. "Tell her I'll be right there," he called out. With another deep breath, he pulled away from you, straightening his jacket. "Sorry, dear. I'll be back as soon as I can. I'll push for an early end."
"You don't have to do that, Terry."
He leaned in for one last kiss, so deep and desperate you almost lost your balance. He smiled when he pulled away this time. "Yes, I do."
Terry's bedroom was so large it had its own sitting area. You collapsed onto his couch; the bed would be far too forward, you convinced yourself. And he might not even want you like that. But then, why wouldn't he? He'd already invited you to live with him, to share in all that was his. Already admitted that he loved you. Why would he do that if he didn't want every part of you? You picked at your fingernails, three of which were already chipped, and thought back to his words.
You wanted him. In every way a person could want another, you wanted him. Whether that was today or a year from now, what did it matter? You would be his for as long as he let you. Decided nerves swelled in your chest as you jumped to your feet. The door swung open before you'd made it across the room. "You okay?" he asked, clearly concerned. You nodded, throwing yourself into another kiss. It was hungrier, sloppier than the first, full of want and need and desire.
You pulled away breathless. "I want you, Terry. Today and tomorrow and for as long as you'll have me."
"Forever, love. I'll have you forever."
You're the one who leads him to the bed. Knowing him, he'd never make the move, waiting forever on you to finally be ready. You remove your dress as you sit on the edge of the bed, baring yourself for him. He doesn't move, drinking in this new image of you, scantily clad on his fucking bed. Then you remove your bra, and looking is no longer enough.
He pushes you back, the bare skin of your back connecting with the silk of his sheets. With both hands, he pushes you back on the bed by your thighs, crawling into you until he's settled between them. With one hand, he fondles your exposed breast, the other pulling handfuls of hair, all while his mouth explores every inch of your skin. Curses and moans slip from your lips, just the touch of his fingers ready to send you over the edge.
"Terry," you moan. "I can hear people downstairs. What if they hear us, or see us?" you ask, motioning to the floor-to-ceiling windows.
"If they see us, then they'll see a man fucking the woman he loves. And if they hear us, they'll know the old man still knows how to keep his woman satisfied." You moan once more at the mixture of his words and fingertips exploring your body.
Your hands move to his chest, pushing the suit jacket off of his defined shoulders. He pulls his shirt off with it, leaving your fingers grazing bare skin. Despite his age, he's still outrageously fit, all muscle and bone. You move to his shoulders, pulling him down on you, his weight pressing into you and trapping you beneath him. Your fingers dig into the flexed muscles of his back, trying to capture each movement as he sinks deeper into you. Your movements are frantic, your need for him growing with each kiss he pressed into your skin. "Terry," you gasped. He didn't pull away, instead opting to leave a gentle bite in the crook of your neck. You moaned deeply.
"Like that, baby girl?" he asked.
"Need you," you rasped out. "Terry, I need you."
"You have me, doll."
You groaned, tears of need forming in the corner of your eyes. "Don't tease me."
He moaned against your skin, the vibration pulling a whine out of you. "I don't want to tease you, love. Just tell me what you need. I'll take care of you."
"I need you to fuck me, Terry."
He pulled a way, a proud smile on his lips. "Why didn't you just say so?"
With slow hands, he pulled your underwear from you, drinking in your full body for the first time. You tried to push yourself back, suddenly self-conscious, but he pulled you back in. "Don't run from me, sweet girl."
Your breath was jagged, waiting for his next move. He'd finally taken over control, and he was relishing in it. Each moan he pulled from you was a reward and he loved being rewarded for his good work. "Fuck!" you cursed when he finally sunk a finger into you. You'd done it to yourself countless times, often thinking of him, but it felt nothing like what he was doing to you now. You pushed your cunt against his fingers, needing more of him. With his other hand on your lower stomach, he held you down.
"So needy for me," he chided, pushing deeper into you. "Bet you're already close, aren't you, baby?"
You couldn't be. There was no way you were going to cum so quick with him just fingering you, but you couldn't deny the tension building within the pit of your stomach. Without slowing, he added another finger, furthering the stretch. Every push and pull intensified the feeling, it was just so fucking right. Your exhales turned to moans, while your eyes rolled to the back of your head. "Good girl," he purred. "Let it out for me." He pushed harder against your stomach, causing his fingers within you to hit a spot they hadn't before. Your eyes locked on his while your fingers locked into his back, nails digging sharp crescents against his toned muscle. "Cum for me, pretty girl. Cum on my fingers and let everyone down there know who's making you feel so good." His words were filthy, bringing you even closer. With a few more pumps, you were pushed over the edge. Your entire body felt it, from the inside out. Your words were a mixture of profanities and his name, barely comprehensibly to even you.
Your pussy fluttered against his fingers, pulling out a groan of his own. A cry left your throat as he pulled out, now clenching onto nothing. "I know, baby. I'm gonna fuck you now. Wouldn't leave you needy like that." He removes his belt with one hand, throwing it to the side of the room. He uses the same to unbuckle his pants and pull them down his hips. His other hand remains firmly on your chest, locking you in place. Then, he's fully bare before you and it's your turn to drink him in.
He's bigger than anyone you'd been with before. He strokes himself twice before repositioning between your legs. "Like what you see, pretty girl?"
You nod. "I need you, Terry. All of you."
He rubs himself between your folds first, gathering the slick he'd earned from moments before. You're still so sensitive from your orgasm that you jumped at the contact. His hand hadn't moved from your chest, refusing to let you go anywhere. After a moment, you relaxed into his touch again, desire already building once more. He notched himself at your entrance, then focuses his attention fully on you. "Tell me if it hurts." You nod, grabbing up handfuls of sheets.
When he finally sunk into you, you were prepared for pain, ready to push past it. But the pain never came. Your body welcomed him into it, allowing him to fully sink into you with his first thrust. "Fuck," he groaned, body stilled fully within you. "So fucking good, baby," he moans. "You feel so fucking good."
When he pulls out, he positions his hand onto your clit, rubbing small circles, before pushing in again. You give way to him, pushing your hips further against his as moans cascaded from your lips. That gave him the confidence he needed to finally pick up the pace. Your nerves were still on fire, and another orgasm was creeping up on you. "Terry, I-" you begin, but he cut you off.
"I know, baby. I can feel it," he groans. "You're fucking pushing me out."
"Sorry," you say, trying to push off your orgasm.
"Don't be sorry. It feels so fucking good," he says, pace quickening once more. "Don't hold it in, baby. Need you to cum for me."
He pushes harder circles into your clit, finally sending you over the edge once more. Your orgasm is stronger this time, sending shockwaves to the end of your legs and tremors through your core. "Holy shit," Terry moans, still keeping a relentless pace into you. "Oh baby, your pussy feels so fucking good. So tight for me." You relax your body into him once more, allowing him to bottom out within you. You can feel him finish in you, filling you with his cum. He sinks into you, wrapping himself completely around you, clearly spent.
He rests for only a minute before pulling himself out of your arms. He saunters to the en suite, returning a moment later with a warm washcloth. He rubs it between your thighs, careful to catch any of his cum that might have escaped. You jump when he connects with your core, pulling away involuntarily. "It's okay, baby. Let me get you cleaned up." He works slow, careful not to overwork your sensitive nerves.
He doesn't bother putting away the washcloth, throwing it instead onto the hardwood floor beside his bed. Right now, he needed to be beside you. You sunk completely into him, fully sated and worn.
"Terry?" you asked, voice thick with sleep.
"Yes, doll?"
"I want to be here with you. All the time."
He laughed deeply, kissing your forehead. "I can make that happen."
Prompt: Reader is Terry Silverâs controversially young gf - a fact that Daniel LaRusso despises. Continuation of Young, but you donât need to read that one to thirst over this one ;)
Daniel confronts Terry over his treatment of you. Heard the sex at the party and knows he immediately moved her in - consequently gets pissed at Silver
(A/N: Same warnings as last time - smut, love-bombing, light manipulation. Just Silver shit)
It was a little bit too easy moving in with Terry. The worst part was rounding up your cats. Terry had never even had pets, and of course he was immediately their favorite person. It was sick, truly. You'd packed everything in about a day and a half, taking a couple weekdays off from the restaurant to finish. When you'd asked Terry for help with actually moving the boxes, you don't know why you didn't expect two different moving companies to show up to your tiny apartment.
He'd paid them each for different rooms, promising to pay whichever one was faster a hefty tip. It wouldn't have taken even one moving company more than two hours to pack up every box you managed to scrounge together. Terry didn't care. Every second he spent in your tiny apartment was one where he wasn't fucking you oblivious.
He was inside of you the moment you returned to his home. Your moans filled the halls while the men unloaded each box. Terry fucking relished in it. These men needed to know that you were his. He could see the way they stared at you - with desire and pity. Pity that he was using you. That he'd never satisfy you.
They didn't need to worry about that.
You were so fucked out when he was done with you that you didn't bother saying goodbye to the movers. Check-fucking-mate. Terry tipped them generously and sent them on their way. Back in your bedroom, he drank in the sight of you - naked and well-fucked, lying in his bed. In his mind, there was no better place for you.
With the hustle of the move, you hadn't taken stock of just how many people lived in Terry's home. There was always someone coming and going, sure, but there was also an entire wing of his home that housed security, maids, and chefs. He had the employ of an established business living within his home.
This realization didn't come to you until you slunk down to the kitchen south of three in the morning, barely escaping Terry's grasp for a glass of water. You hadn't immediately seen the man, either, lurking just at the bottom of the stairwell. Only when he greeted you did you become aware of his presence.
âHoly shit,â you jumped, dropping the full glass onto the tile floor, jumping back at the splatter of glass and liquid.
âDidnât mean to scare you,â the man grunted, taking a step closer. You knelt to pick up some of the larger pieces of glass when he halted you. "I'll have someone take care of that. I don't need you cutting yourself on my watch."
"Please, I've cleaned up plenty of glass in my life," you dismissed him. "I'll be careful."
"Even so," he said, reaching for your hand. "Mr. Silver would personally beat me to a pulp if I allowed you to even risk such a small thing on my watch." You rolled your eyes but accepted his hand, standing up straight once more.
"He'd beat you up?" you ask, crossing your arms.
He smiled flatly. "Mr. Silver's gone through a lot of security under my detail. The one's he dismisses don't leave without a little blood."
Personally, you'd believe it when you saw it. You changed the subject. "What are you doing here so late, anyway? Someone after him?" you joked, but his face remained set.
"I live here full-time, Miss. I'm the Head of Security."
Your jaw dropped in horror. Not once did you consider that some of the people on the property this morning and the night of the fundraiser were fully employed by Terry and would be at his home, all the fucking time. He'd had no trouble drawing out your screams in front of any one of them.
"So, you've been here the whole time?"
He nodded. "What Mr. Silver does upstairs is none of my concern. I'm fully focused on his security, Miss."
Your blush intensified. This man had heard you in the throes of passion multiple times now, fucked oblivious by his employer. You couldn't think of a single thing to say - did you apologize? Promise to be quieter?
"Head to bed, ma'am. I'll take care of this." With one last glance at the broken glass, you nodded, moving quickly back to the safety of your bedroom.
Terry was sitting up when you returned, arms draped across the headboard like a snake ready to strike. "You okay, love?"
You nod, setting your glass on the nightstand before crawling under the blankets. "Ran into your head of security, scared the shit out of me," you giggle. You crawl into his side, basking in his heat. "I have to admit, I did not realize he'd be here all the time."
"Does that make you uncomfortable?"
You exhaled shakily. "A little. I'm sure they all heard me this morning. And last week during the fundraiser." You blushed, pulling your knees to your chest. "I feel a bit embarrassed."
"And what part of me fucking you are you embarrassed by?" he asks, voice gravelly.
You frown, "You know that's not-"
"What part of your well-earned screams of pleasure," he pauses, drawing your chin to his hand, "are you embarrassed by?"
With one swift move, you wrap a leg around him, straddling him. "The part where I'm so deliriously fucked by you that I'm screaming in a house full of people."
"And that's embarrassing to you?" His eyes bore into you, arms still settled easily on the headboard.
"It isn't to you?"
"No," he says easily. "Fucking my girl in my home will never be embarrassing to me. Making her scream my name will never be embarrassing to me. I don't give a fuck if the people I employ hear you. I'd be embarrassed if they didn't."
He flipped you easily, arms caging you in below him. "Everyone who steps foot into this house will know that you are mine." His lips sunk into your skin, pulling easy moans from you.
He was cockier this time.
"Come on, baby. Tell me what you want," he crooned, his large hands running up the frame of your body. "Don't be shy."
"I want you," you whimpered.
He shook his head. "Not good enough." His right hand held you in place while his left slipped off your sleep shorts. You whimpered at the cold air. "If you want something, you're going to have to ask for it."
"Please, Terry." You were breathing heavily now. He was so close to you, filling all your senses. He just needed to fucking touch you. "Please touch me."
"Better," he hummed, sinking two fingers into you. A new string of moans and curses flew from your lips. "Still, there's something to be desired there." Your body aches to move with his touch, to push himself further into you, but he has you locked into place. With eyes still locked onto yours, he widens his fingers within you.
This has you a moaning, writhing mess, all thoughts of the full staff a level below you now gone. "Please fuck me," you beg. "I need you, please."
"Oh baby," he purred. "All you had to do was ask."
He sinks into you easily, groaning as he does. With his free hand, he pushes your leg upward, almost touching your knee to your chest. His angle deepens, finally bottoming out within you. It's so much, so fucking good, that tears prickle in your rolled eyes.
"Let it out, baby. Let everyone here know you're mine." His pace is unrelenting, pushing the tension in you closer and closer to snapping. "Cum on my cock and let everyone know who you belong to." His words are growled and filthy, pushing you easily over the edge. His name is the only word on your lips as you shutter and shake, totally encompassed by him. Your orgasm draws out his own, finishing within you.
Only when you're cleaned up and asleep within his arms, completely sated by him, does he feel content.
That's how he prefers to spend most of his days, drawing out your pleasure until you're a stuttering mess. He needs you to know that you are his and every need you have will be taken care of by him.
Two weeks later brought your first public event since moving into his home. On the day of the gala, you dressed in a deep burgundy gown with a neckline low enough to show the faintest hint of cleavage. The bodice was corseted, highlighting your frame and then blossoming into a full skirt at the waist. It was perfectly elegant, and you felt like you might fit into this event.
Technically, you had picked it yourself. Though, you did pick it from a full closet of gowns already filling up a row in the walk-in closet. Each one was tailored to your body. How Terry even got your measurements, you had no fucking clue. When youâd asked, heâd shrugged and dropped a casual, I have a guy for that. You didnât press further.
You met Terry downstairs. You were rather confident that if youâd met him upstairs, he wouldâve torn the dress off of you and postponed the entire event. Yes, apparently, he did have the power to do that. Donate hundreds of thousands of dollars to something and you suddenly become very influential.
From the way Terry was eye-fucking you, you were pretty sure youâd made the right call on both the dress and meeting place. âVanya,â he called over his head of staff, leaving you standing in front of him awkwardly.
âHmm?â she hummed before looking up at you. âHoly shit.â
âPrecisely,â he smirked. âSend out for three more of the exact same cut. You can surprise me on the colors.â He paused. âGo ahead and make it four. One of the same color.â
âOn it,â she confirmed, tapping away onto her tablet.
âNow,â he smiled, looking you over once more with a contented sigh. âLetâs get out there before I lose my manners and take you in the kitchen.â
Crowds were already gathered throughout the courtyard, sipping skinny flutes of champagne. Every man and woman was dressed to the nines. It would have made you self-conscious had Terry not been practically drooling over you moments ago. You wrapped your arm through his outstretched elbow, following his lead.
The first face you recognized was Daniel LaRussoâs. This time, you made the first move, extending a gloved hand to Daniel. âThank you for coming.â
âThanks for the invitation,â he said apprehensively. âAmanda was thrilled.â
Terryâs left hand remained firm on your waist, his right extending to shake Danielâs. âYouâre always welcome in our home, Daniel.â
âYour home?â he clarified, eyes quickly flashing between the two of you.
âAs of Monday,â Terry smiled. âThere are three cats running around upstairs to prove it.â
âCongratulations,â he choked out through gritted teeth.
âThank you, Daniel.â Terry was able to ignore the manâs discomfort, commanding the conversation coolly. "If you'll excuse us, we have a few more hands to shake."
Daniel didn't even respond as Terry pulled you away, parading you throughout his courtyard. Eyes from almost every guest lingered on both of you just long enough for you to notice. Your chest and cheeks heated from the mixture of alcohol and attention.
Amanda found you a bit later in the night during a rare moment without Terry. One of his business associates had a âclosed door questionâ, as they called it, and you were more than happy to leave them to it. âThank you for inviting us again,â she spoke quietly. âI honestly couldnât believe youâd let us back here.â
You giggled through a bite of puff pastry, hand flying to cover your mouth. âItâs water under the bridge. Besides, I have no control over who Terry invites to these things, anyway,â you shrugged.
âDonât you?â You quirked an eyebrow. âThe man seems pretty spoken for. I think heâd agree to about anything you asked for.â
You rolled your eyes. âI donât have him that under my spell. He wonât even allow my cats in our bedroom.â
She gave you a conspiratorial smile. âGive it another week. Heâll be buying designer cat furniture to redecorate.â
âIf youâre talking about me, I want it on the record that I will do no such thing,â Terry said, striding over to join your conversation. âI donât even know what that means, and Iâd actually like to keep it that way.â
âOh, Terry,â Amanda sighed, rubbing his shoulder. âI donât believe a word you just said.â With that, she was gone, leaving you giggling in her wake.
âWhat was that all about?â Terry smiled.
You grinned before taking another sip of wine. âShe thinks I have you wrapped around my finger.â
He sighed. âAnd sheâd be right.â
You crossed your arms stubbornly. âWhat about the cats, then?â
âDoll, theyâre in our bedroom right now.â
You giggled, picturing an exasperated Terry trying to herd three cats out of the one place they wanted to be. It was no wonder he gave in. They were almost as stubborn as you.
For a while, you were able to enjoy the night, fully emerged in the depths of his affections. His eyes didn't leave you - your body, your face, your hand locked in his. No one in this world, let alone this room, could draw his attention. You were its sole occupant.
Things turned when you excused yourself for the bathroom. Daniel cornered you as you exited, startling you. âSorry, I didnât see you there,â you laughed, trying to push past him.
He stood in your way. âJust give me one second,â he pleaded.
You were started to grow irritated of him. Could he pass one chance to humiliate you - to insist you were both predator and prey to Terry Silver? âFor what? You to call me a gold-digger and a whore again?â
âNo!â he exclaimed. âI donât think that at all.â
âSure you donât. You asked how much he was paying me, Mr. LaRusso. I know exactly what you think.â
You tried to push past again, but he grabbed onto your arm. âPlease-â
âI suggest you unhand her, Daniel. I would hate to bloody up your nicest suit.â
The grip on your arm immediately faded away, allowing you to sink back into Terryâs side. Daniel didnât look at you now, only with pure hatred did he look at Terry.
âYouâre manipulating her, Silver. You found the youngest woman with any interest in you and sunk your fangs into her. You moved her into your mansion on your first date!â He dug a finger into Terryâs chest. âYou disgust me.â
With a blunt hand, Terry hit his hand away. âWhat would your wife think of your continuous involvement in my relationship, Daniel?â He tskâd softly. âI canât imagine sheâd like it.â
He was growing heated. âI donât know what youâre playing at, trying to drive me crazy protecting her from you. I heard you during the auction.â
âThat was called sex, Daniel. I donât know if youâve ever experienced-"
With a grunt, Daniel shoved Terry. Off-balance, he backed into you, sending you to the ground. You yelped as you fell, pulling the attention of the rest of the room. Gasps filled the air, the musicians playing in the corner even halting.
Daniel gasped and moved to offer you a hand, that you quickly swatted away, choosing Terryâs instead. You straightened the fabric of your dress and pushed the stray pieces of hair from your face before taking a step closer to Daniel. âYou need to leave my home. Now.â
âI didnât mean- I would never-â he started, but you stood firm.
âGet out of my house, Daniel.â
âTerry, a word?â he asked.
He shook his head. âYouâre not going to assault my partner and start making demands, LaRusso. You need to get the fuck out before you get your ass beat again.â
âWe have security just outside those doors,â you added, crossing your arms.
Terry smirked. âWe wouldnât need it.â He took a step towards Daniel. "I'd beat your ass myself, LaRusso. Efficiently and with great pleasure."
Daniel glowered at Terry before finally storming off. Terry immediately took control of the room. "Sorry about that, everyone. Please, return to your evening"
When everything finally resumed, you let out a deep sigh, rubbing your temple. "I'm starting to grow irritated with him, Terry." He wrapped you into his arms. "Which is a shame, as I really liked his wife."
With the annoyance of Daniel LaRusso gone, you finally got to enjoy a dance with your date. And unlike any man your age, he actually knew how to dance. One arm held you in place by your waist while the other held your hand in the air, guiding you in tight circles through the dance floor. âTerry?â you asked after a twirl.
âYes, love?â
âWhy did you order another dress in the same color?â
He chuckled darkly. âI plan to rip this one off of you.â
You flushed, pushing your face into his chest to hide your embarrassment. He pushed your chin up, meeting your eyes to his. âDonât hide from me, pretty girl.â Your eyes fluttered as you looked up to him, overwhelmed by the sheer fire that was burning within your chest for him. He smiled when you took a shuddering breath. He cocked his head. âWhatâs got you shaking, doll?â
âI think you know,â you whispered into his ear.
"Come on, doll, tell me whatâs going on in that pretty little head of yours.â
You groaned, of course he would pull this out of you. âI just want you right now.â Your words were tiny, barely meeting his ear.
âIâm right here,â he purred. âYou already have me.â
âThatâs not what I meant,â you whine. âI want you to fuck me.â
He laughed darkly. âI know, baby. I just wanted to hear you beg for it.â His grip on you tightened. âYou should see how they stare at you, wanting to steal you from me.â You start to interrupt him, to tell him that was fucking crazy, and no man would dare take you from him, when he let out a low growl in your ear. "You're fucking mine."
gaza is still starving. please please help out by donating to a fundraiser today. you can donate to abd al salam's fundraiser. this fundraiser benefits a lot of people, some of them are rather young. the fundraiser is verified (#4). please consider helping out.
Water - Terry wakes up to the sound of you singing to the baby.
Labour - A few thoughts about Sebastian's coming into the world.
Colic - Terry steps in when he realises you're struggling with Sebastian.
Red Velvet (NSFW) - It starts with a red velvet cupcake...
Smile - Terry sees his son smile for the first time.
Snow - Terry's son Sebastian experiances snow for the first time.
Terry makes the decision to fully retire after spending the day with his son in the garden. The two of them have been planting herbs underneath the window of your studio when the thought occurs to him. The baby is sitting beside him, clapping his chubby dirty hands together. He has mud smeared on his cheeks as he babbles away picking up handfuls, depositing them in a tiny pile alongside Terry.
âMama is gonna hose us both down when she comes out, baby boy.â He tells Sebastian, keeping one eye on the baby as he plants the chives. Â
âMama will be over the moon thatâs heâs showing an aptitude for horticulture.â You tell Terry as you appear beside the two of them clad in a set of paint stained dungarees. You sit down alongside the baby, drawing him into your lap and he wails loudly, grasping for his tiny empire of dirt. âOk, ok, you can go back to playing.â
You release him and he scoots towards the soil, his tiny fingers delving into it again.
âHeâs becoming so independent already.â You say with an element of melancholy.
âIt means weâre doing a good job.â Terry reassures you as he strips off the gardening gloves and tosses them onto the grass. âWe should want that as parents.â
âI know.â You say, your hand smoothing along the babyâs back. âIt feels like we just brought him home from the hospital and suddenly heâs this little boy with this whole personality. Itâs kind of like if you blink youâll miss it.â
âWhatâs this really about kitten?â Terry asks you, using the back of his wrist to push an errant strand of silver away from his features.
You sigh, looking down at the vibrant blue paint, smeared across your palms.
âBeing back in the studio, it feels like me again and I kinda felt I lost that part of myself when the baby was born, which was fine because he needed me. But now I feel torn because I want to create but I know to do that I canât have the baby around some of the stuff I use. I also donât want to leave the baby in the hands of someone else, I donât want a nanny to raise him.â
Terry nods his agreement. While nannying works in some respects, he was passed along a parade of them because his father couldnât keep it in his pants. He spent a lot of time as a child feeling unloved and unwanted, like his parents didnât care for him and honestly they didnât, it was more about producing an heir than having a child. He doesnât want this son to feel that way and he certainly doesnât want you to feel like youâre losing your identity as an artist and a woman.
âWhat if I retired?â He says carefully. âWhat if I stayed home with him while you create?â
âIs that something you would want?â You ask him, your palm coming to rest on Sebastianâs arm, diverting his hand away from his mouth and back to the soil so he doesnât eat a handful of dirt.
Itâs not lost on Terry that heâs an older father. Heâs fit, healthy and he can run rings around most men his age but at some point heâs going to slow down. With the damage he did to his heart through his cocaine use in the 90s itâs probably going to be sooner than he anticipates. He doesnât see the point of spending all that time in the office when he already has more money than God. Not when he could be spending that time making memories with his son.
âYes.â He says as Sebastian looks back at him with those vivid blue eyes. âYes it certainly is.â
Love Terry? Donât miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.
Before you join the taglist make sure to read the rules here as you otherwise you wonât be added.
Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!
Itâs Sunday, Terryâs favourite day of the week because he gets to spend the morning cuddled up with you as you sleep cradled in his arms. The Spring light filters in through the window, warming your bare skin with itâs glow.
Youâve kicked the covers off in your slumber, revealing the white tank top you like to sleep in and pretty red panties decorated with tiny white hearts dotted all over the fabric. His fingertips trace lightly over them, doodling gentle patterns over your clit.
The pressure is soft, delicate, nothing more then a teasing stroke but Terry can feel your wetness already, he can taste it in the air. His lips chase along the curve of your throat and your breathing starts to hitch. The ecstasy crashes into in you in waves, each one dragging you under, overwhelming you until youâre consumed by the rapture, by the euphoria that floods your entire being.
You make the sweetest sound when you come, a stifled gasp whispered into the pillow and itâs music to Terryâs ears as he flattens his palm, cupping you through the underwear. His fingertips trail lower, caressing that special place, the one thatâs always so willing, so wet for him.
âThatâs one kitten kitten.â He purrs into your ear as he pushes the damp fabric aside, his fingers sinking into you. âLetâs go for two.â
Love Terry? Donât miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.
Before you join the taglist make sure to read the rules here as you otherwise you won't be added.
Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!
Attention - Terry hasn't been paying you enough attention.
Distance - Terry and you struggle with emotional distance as the embezzlement case continues.
Postcards From My Heart - Terry discovers what you've been up to abroad.
Twenty Four Hours - You come home from your trip to spend 24 hours with your husband.
Disloyal - Terry runs into an old friend while you're away.
Budapest - Terry surprises you in Budapest.
Terry can taste the wine on your lips. The sweet tang of berries blossoming on his tongue as it dips into your mouth. Your fingers thread through his hair as you arch up against him, your thighs bracketing his hips.
âWhy are we doing this on the couch?â He mumbles into the curve of your throat, as his palms rove up your thighs, pushing the hem of your dress even higher.
âBecause the bedâs too far and I canât go another minute without you.â You whisper as his fingertips hook the lace of your underwear guiding them down your legs. The fabric is soaked with your essence, evidence of just how much youâve missed him.
Youâre already undoing his belt, tugging at the leather with an eagerness that matches his own. Heâd intended to slow it down, make it a seduction but itâs been far too long since heâs had you.
When he sinks into you, youâre tight, so tight that he knows no other man has touched you in your time part. You hug every inch of his cock, a perfect, snug fit. You moan into his mouth at the sensation, your hands grasping the fabric of his shirt, bunching it in your fists.
âItâs like fucking a virgin.â He whispers against your lips.
Sometimes he wishes he met you earlier, that he could have been your first, your only.
He withdraws before sliding home again, burying himself deep as he stokes the fire that simmers underneath the surface of your skin. Every thrust, every stroke, every motion is dedicated to the pursuit of your pleasure. He chases your keens, that sweet little noise you make with every punctuated movement. It rings in his ears as your skin starts to flush and Terry knows he has you right there on the edge of oblivion.
His palm comes to rest on your throat, thumb lightly stroking the underside of your jaw as he pumps into you once, twice until youâre tightening around his cock, his name on your lips.
Itâs that sound that tips Terry over the edge, the one heâs craved since you left him sleeping back in LA to board a plane to Europe. You climax together, Terryâs mouth covering yours, drinking down your ecstasy as his hips stutter and he spills his release inside of you.
âOh Georgia.â He mumbles against your lips. âIâve been miserable without you.â
âI know my love.â You smile as you tuck a stray strand of hair back behind his ear. âYou do a terrible job of hiding it.â
Love Terry? Donât miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.
Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!
Itâs Sunday, Terryâs favourite day of the week because he gets to spend the morning cuddled up with you as you sleep cradled in his arms. The Spring light filters in through the window, warming your bare skin with itâs glow.
Youâve kicked the covers off in your slumber, revealing the white tank top you like to sleep in and pretty red panties decorated with tiny white hearts dotted all over the fabric. His fingertips trace lightly over them, doodling gentle patterns over your clit.
The pressure is soft, delicate, nothing more then a teasing stroke but Terry can feel your wetness already, he can taste it in the air. His lips chase along the curve of your throat and your breathing starts to hitch. The ecstasy crashes into in you in waves, each one dragging you under, overwhelming you until youâre consumed by the rapture, by the euphoria that floods your entire being.
You make the sweetest sound when you come, a stifled gasp whispered into the pillow and itâs music to Terryâs ears as he flattens his palm, cupping you through the underwear. His fingertips trail lower, caressing that special place, the one thatâs always so willing, so wet for him.
âThatâs one kitten kitten.â He purrs into your ear as he pushes the damp fabric aside, his fingers sinking into you. âLetâs go for two.â
Love Terry? Donât miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.
Before you join the taglist make sure to read the rules here as you otherwise you won't be added.
Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!
Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee
Silver Linings @thedeadsingforme - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
