The Literary Beldam

she/her Call Sign: Kitten 27

[theliterarybeldam]

🌿 The Literary Beldam's Masterlist 🌿

Started: 2/7/22

Updated: 7/29/23

Euphoria Masterlist

Vikings Masterlist

Avatar Masterlist

Celebrity Masterlist

-currently writing for Pablo Schreiber, Austin Butler, Aaron Taylor Johnson, and Miles Teller

Other Stories

Marvel

Druig

Sacred Sundays

Animal Kingdom

J Cody

Five Thousand Dollars?!

(Housekeeping)

send requests here!

Join the Taglist!

[cozygirljay]

The Bodyguard: Project Black Canary Masterlist

Special Agent Jackson Brooks meets his new asset,

Pop R&B Sensation Nolána Moore or as her fans like to call her? Black Canary.

Jackson? Has protected higher ups and governmental officials, so when DSS reassigns him to protect the musician, he is a little irritated by the assignment after being debriefed of the situation. “I feel one of the other agents would be better for the job sir.”

“Her team wants somebody of higher training and intelligence for the job. Her original team is of need of proper training and assistance. They want you to run operations until whoever is trying to harm her is found.”

“Fine when do I start?”

“Now, your flight leaves in an hour. The full file will be sent to you with full details I expect you to go over it before you meet her.”

Based loosely on The Bodyguard with Whitney Houston.

Chapter 1: You

Chapter 2: Ride for You

Chapter 3: Right My Wrongs

Chapter 4: Work Song

Chapter 5: Yellow

This series is completed!

[theliterarybeldam]

Yall 😭

READ THIS 💞

[h3avenlyglory]

Presenting

A Heavenly Original

Ongoing Series

Acceptance Of Your Faith

Character: Jackson Brooks, fictional character depicted as and voiced by Tyriq Withers.

Summary— You were a Creole princess of royal lineage, coming from a wealthy family. Your father was a well-known, powerful man in all of Louisiana. But with his power came threats, and as his enemies' threats grew, he hired Jackson Brooks as your bodyguard. Of course, he didn't plan on falling in love with you and risking his life for you.

CW- Forbidden love, he fell first(cause yes), violence, DRAMA, mild and hard angst, slow burn(?), mentions of murder, deaths, blood(non sexually), eventual smut, etc. (More to come and each chapter will have individual warnings.)

Each chapter will be 1k+

Comment or DM to join the Taglist—Must be 18+, This series holds darker content. Please do not bother asking if your age isn't/will be on your pinned or bio or somewhere on the blog. Just knowing that you're over seventeen is good. If you want to be on taglist put/have age on your pinned, in bio, or somewhere I can locate on your blog. Thank you!!

Taglist limit: Pending…

Taglist: @yourleogf, @plan3tch1ld, pending…

[litlforestfellow]

Coming to a Tumblr App Near You🫵🏾

Jackson Brooks x Isabea “babypink” Sinclair (OC)

When files linking global pop star babypink as the daughter of a powerful, well hated diplomat, are leaked, her team brings in Jackson Brooks to help keep her safe.

first chapter exclusively on tumblr dot com may 8th

[mamasturn]

PLEASE MA'AM | jackson brooks

Pairing: Jackson Brooks x Black OC!Sydney Brooks Summary: Jackson Brooks isn't as big and bold behind closed doors as people may assume. Content: Sensuality. Husband and wife. Slight D/S dynamics. WC: 684 Note: Jackson Brooks girlies arise!

Sydney Brooks was stealth. Her existence was hardly known save by name and his quick, “I have a wife,” whenever wandering eyes grew too curious and assignments forced too much distance between two hearts way too experienced at growing fonder. 

It was when your existence wasn’t evident, known, or recognized by the public eye that power wielded itself strongly. 

No assumptions made under pretenses of imagination or pseudo-information gathered from a sad game of telephone between coworkers. Or people who were more concerned with the life of a man who could end theirs in the blink of an eye, than the ones they were sworn to protect and serve. 

It was interesting. Fascinating, even. That the man who commanded a room with one breath and a sharp gaze was someone drastically different behind closed doors. An enigma. When the badge fell to the wayside, the gun lay with the clip emptied, and his scuffed shoes pressed against the baseboard in the hallway, he was different. 

Because Special Agent Jackson Brooks didn’t exist outside of sterile walls and stale-faced commands, no. The skin of a warrior draped in strategy and wild in power became small by the sixth hour of every evening, and lay at rest until duty showed up, dressed in urgency and war the next morning.

It was here, in the privacy of a house built by steady hands and a home nurtured by gentle warmth, where Special Agent Brooks was made to submit. To lay down the persona of the man who didn’t appear frazzled in the heat of the fire. The man who didn’t stumble over traps set by enemies with replenishing heads. His one duty was to retreat to his truest form—himself. The version of him that was most natural. Comfortable. Instinctual. Innate. 

Because pleasure was natural. To be on the receiving end of someone’s attention and affection was desired. But Jackson, Jackson had long since broken out of the cocoon of ignorance that conditioned young men to believe that receiving was heaven’s greatest gift to man. 

Now older, wiser, sharper, and more rugged around once-smooth edges, Jackson leaned into what was outside the status quo. The societal norm. What would be unbelievable to those who’d seen the boulder of a man towering over junior-level agents with a tight expression and brooding dominance. 

Submission. Obedience. Pliancy. 

All at the hands of one Sydney Mikal Brooks—Aphrodite in her gaze, Artemis in her carefree spirit, and Peitho in her charming speech. The same charming wordsmith who had him blushing and nervous in that hole-in-the-wall bar five years ago. 

Some people, some women, wouldn’t be fond of the idea of remaining in the shadows. And she understood, she truly did. But there was something so riveting, so exciting about being a master ventriloquist behind a curtain yet to be fully opened. Pulling every string until her favorite one prompted a—

“—Please,” so low and borderline broken beneath staggering breaths, filled her ears. 

She grinned. Wide and bold. Her eyes glinted with mischief. 

It wasn’t enough. 

Sydney cooed. Mockingly. Tauntingly. Then stilled her movements. 

“You can do better than that, baby…” Her nails pinched taut skin as she used his legs as leverage to drag herself up the strong planes of her body. Her wet tongue dropped liquid lust along his quivering abdomen and along his collarbone. Her lips suckled his ear. “You know you can.”

Her sensual features darkened beneath ambient light, haloing her crown of curls like worship. Ethereal. She was absolutely ethereal. And absolutely maddening. His hips shifted beneath hers, but he didn’t move. Teathered. Held in place by the control he handed over the moment he saw that crooked smile outside the bar years ago. 

Sydney Brooks wasn’t just a wife. Wasn’t just a successful journalist with venomous words leaking off her tongue like scripture stained. No. She was the master of his will. Fully and totally. The only earthly being he’d bow in reverence to.

Slowly. Quietly. Passionately.

“Please…” A shuddered breath. “Let me touch you…ma’am.”

Sydney hummed victoriously and kissed him slowly. “My good boy…”

-

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

[theliterarybeldam]

Sheesh 😩

[woman-becomer]

tumblr users love reading. you literally stopped for this post just because it has words in it

[interpolationz]

this is one of my favorite bits about tumblr

the users seem to actually prefer text posts to anything else, and treat it as a chore to play a video especially with sound

[lazzarella]

[ellipsus-writes]

If you haven't heard, the em dash has been getting a lot of attention lately…

Because it was trained on pirated work—including freely accessible online writing (like fanfic, academic texts)—ChatGPT picked up patterns and quirks native to human writing.

Including (sigh) the em dash.

There are other victims here (RIP tapestry and delve 🫠), but the appropriation of the em dash—a punctuation mark beloved by writers everywhere—feels especially personal.

A kind of low-grade panic is ensuing. Writers who once memed their own em dash overuse—the greatest punctuation mark ever to grace the control-freak’s lexicon, frankly—are suddenly backing away to avoid accusations.

No. More. We have centuries of dash-abusing writers behind us. We will not sit quietly while AI repurposes our beloved stilted aside—or the just-one-more clarification the sentence demands—or the dramatic pause your comma could never—etc.

You don’t write like AI—AI writes like you.

Defend the em dash.

(Feel free to download/share/stick it where it matters!)

[my-dailydreams]

[yourleogf]

clingy ❥ tyriq withers

PAIRING: tyriq withers x black!fem!reader

SUMMARY: see image below + in which Tyriq doesn’t know the definition of ‘personal space’ and stays glued to your hip. 🩷

“Tyriq, mooooove,” you groaned as you tried to push him off of you with one hand and kept your grip on your edge brush with the other, “you see me over here strugglin’ to do my edges and you playin’.”

he had been bothering you for the past few minutes by doing little things like kissing your shoulders, neck, and cheeks, but then it gradually progressed into him practically holding you hostage against his body while he made random noises every now and then to get on your nerves.

you couldn’t stay annoyed with him for long, but you at least wanted him to leave you alone until you finished doing your edges, especially since your baby hairs weren’t acting right and wouldn’t lay down for shit.

“gimme’ a kiss, bae,” Tyriq pouted, dramatically sticking out of his bottom lip, as he leaned his head down and tried to kiss your cheek, but you dodged his kiss and kept your eyes glued to your uncooperative baby hairs, “wow, so you just hate me and want me to die?”

“Ty, i’m gon’ pop your yellow ass if you don’t move for a second.” you murmured, successfully swooping some of your baby hairs, as you let out a soft huff in relief and started to swoop the next section, your eyebrows furrowing a little in concentration.

“you didn’t deny it,” Tyriq’s face contorted into a deep frown and he dramatically groaned as loud as he could as he let go of you and threw himself back against the bathroom door, his body hitting the door with a loud thud while his head fell back and rested against it, “ohhhh, my Godddd, my girlfriend hates meeee!”

you paused mid-swoop and you looked back at him through the mirror in bewilderment mixed with amusement with your eyebrows furrowed as you cracked a wide smile and let out a laugh, unable to hide how hilarious you thought his antics were.

“Tyriq,” you laughed, lowering your edge brush, as you turned your head and looked back at your boyfriend, who now had his face covered with his hands and was fake-crying into them, “oh, my goodness— come here, boy, damn.”

Tyriq’s hands swiftly left his face and his expression now held a wide smile with lit-up eyes as he looked at you, making you chuckle and shake your head.

“you childish as fuck, you know that?” you chuckled, raising an eyebrow, as Tyriq’s arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you into him.

“yeah, yeah, give yo’ childish man a kiss before i tell everybody you hate me.” Tyriq grinned, puckering his lips, as you smiled at him and let out a hearty laugh before standing into your tiptoes and giving him a loving kiss on the lips.

Tyriq eagerly returned the kiss, his lips moving in tandem with yours while his hands moved down to your ass and gave it a squeeze. the kiss was slow, sensual, and filled with all of the love the two of you harbored for each other as one of your hands cradled the side of his neck and the other held onto your edge brush, your body pressed against his and trapped beneath his long and muscular arms.

gently pulling away from the kiss, the two of you locked eyes almost instantly and Tyriq smiled widely at you, his dimples poking through his cheeks while he gazed at you like you were his most prized possession. smiling back, you let out a soft content hum and pecked his lips twice before lowering yourself back into the pads of your feet.

“anything else you want from me before i finish doin’ my edges?” you asked as you raised your eyebrows and held up your edge brush, waving it a little in your hand.

“can i keep holdin’ you while you do ‘em?” Tyriq asked, slightly tightening his arms around you, as you smiled and let out a soft chuckle.

“Ty, if you start annoying me again, i’m kicking you outta’ here,” you warned, pointing your index finger at him, as Tyriq smiled and quickly nodded his head, making you crack a grin before letting out a soft laugh, “i swear, you lucky you so damn cute.”

you moved towards the sink and Tyriq instantly followed, his arms remaining around your waist while his head rested on your shoulder. your eyes flickered towards your baby hairs and you adjusted your grip on your edge brush as you dipped the bristles in your edge control and applied it to your baby hairs, starting to swoop the section you were working on before Tyriq threw a tantrum about you not giving him a kiss.

“i love you, fat butt.” Tyriq grinned, using his personal nickname for you, as your hand momentarily paused and your eyes briefly moved towards him in the mirror before you let out a laugh and your lips curled up into a grin, shaking your head and resuming your swooping motions on your baby hairs.

“i love you too, diva.”

[theliterarybeldam]

Need a clingy man so bad 😩

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

reblog if you love archive of our own and how they firmly refuse to let censorship have any place on their platform

[woahbb]

[chaosreacher]

[planetblaque]

No Good

Pairing: Armando Aretas x Yara (Afro-Latina OC)

Warning(s): 18+, SMUT, MDNI, P in V, oral (fem receiving), unprotected sex, CHEATING, cussing, use of n-word, Daddy kink, angst, FILTH, some violence, toxic sex, dirty talk.

Summary: After prison, Armando finds Yara with some unfinished business.

Word count: 3.9K

Check out Masterlist for more fics!

Miami’s heat pressed down on Little Havana, the scent of cigars and fried plantains heavy in the air. Neon signs flickered, casting shadows on the cracked pavement. Yara’s house was at the end of a quiet street. It was a calm oasis before the storm that was about to hit.

Three years in a cage hadn’t broken him—but the thought of Yara had. She haunted his dreams and fueled his every waking moment. Even free, he was still trapped, driven by obsession, not love.

The Miami heat was a weight on his shoulders as he stepped out of the cab. Finding her address hadn’t been hard—nothing was too low when you had nothing left to lose.

Yara had tried to move on, to erase every trace of him. Armando was like a bad habit she couldn’t quit, like a poison that lingered in her veins.

His heart pounded in his chest as he stood before her door. He cracked his knuckles, the sound echoing like a threat in the still night before rapping on the door.

When it creaked open, there she stood—Yara. Her jet-black curls tumbled around her face, wild and untamed. They framed her deep brown skin, which seemed to absorb the dim porch light.

Armando’s eyes roamed her figure with deliberate intent. Her curls cascaded down her back, bouncing as she shifted her weight. She looked strong and grounded, like a woman who had rebuilt herself piece by piece. Yet there was still something soft in the way she stood, something that reminded him of the Yara he once knew.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Armando?” Yara’s voice was low and deadly. Her eyes were wide with shock, with something darker.

Armando’s pulse quickened. His blood thrummed with a toxic mix of desire and possession.

“I had to see you,” he said, stepping closer. Yara’s scent, a mix of jasmine, filled the space between them. “We’re not done.”

She scoffed, bitterness masking a tremor. “Not done? You ended us the moment you went to prison. You made that choice for both of us.” Her eyes narrowed, scanning him like a threat. “You think you can show up here like nothing happened? Like you didn’t leave me to clean up your mess while you rotted in a cell? I’ve moved on.”

“Yeah, I see that,” he said, his eyes darkening as they roamed the room. The space was warm, unlike the cold void he’d known. Then he saw it—a man’s jacket on a chair, the smell of cologne that wasn’t his. Jealousy burned through him.

Yara stepped back, but Armando was already inside. The door shut; the air was heavy.

“But you haven’t moved on. Nah. You still feel it, baby.” His voice rumbled, low and menacing.

“You don’t get it, do you?” Yara’s voice was sharp, but her eyes betrayed her. “I stood by you, Armando. But you threw it all away—us—when you made those fucked up choices. I had to rebuild my life without you.”

Armando’s jaw tightened as guilt gnawed at him. He had pulled her into his world, and now all he could think of was reclaiming what was his.

“I fucked up, I know that. But I did it for you. To protect you.” The words tasted like bile. “I had to keep you safe, even if it meant losing you.”

“Safe? Safe from what? From you?” Her laugh was sharp, bitter. “I wanted you, not your half-assed protection. But you chose the streets over us. You threw us away. And now, you think you can walk back into my life because you’ve done your time? It doesn’t work like that.”

“I loved you, Yara,” he whispered, his voice edged with menace. “And you loved me too. Don’t fucking lie to me.”

“You don’t get to come here and play the victim. You lost that right when you abandoned me,” Yara spat, her voice wavering.

The word sliced through him, but all he felt was rage, jealousy, and the need to reclaim what was his. He stepped closer, invading Yara’s space.

“I never abandoned you. They forced me out. Every fucking day, I thought about you, about us. You’re still in my blood, mi vida. You can’t erase that.”

Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, her body tense. “And what? Do you think that makes it okay? You think saying that erases the years I spent alone, trying to pick up the pieces of the life you shattered?”

Silence hung between them. Their past burdened them, memories colliding with the present.

Armando’s voice softened, but the threat remained. “I know I don’t deserve you. I know I can’t fix what I broke. But I never stopped loving you, Yara. And I never will.”

Yara’s breath hitched. Her fists clenched as she fought her emotions. She wanted to hate him, to scream, to shove him out. But the pull was too strong; their toxic connection was too deep.

“Then why did you leave me?” Her voice cracked, the pain rising to the surface. “Why did you make that choice for us, Armando? You didn’t even give me a say. You just... left.”

He reached out, but Yara flinched and stepped back as if his touch would burn her. The distance felt impossible to cross.

“I thought I was protecting you. I thought you’d be better off without me. But I was wrong, Yara. What I did to you—it’s eating me alive.”

A tear slipped down her cheek. “It’s too late, Armando. I can’t go back. I won’t.”

Armando didn’t take no for an answer. He wiped away her tears with a rough thumb. He begged in a faint voice, “Please, mami.” He leaned in, his breath warm against Yara’s ear. “Let me make it right.”

“Armando, please,” she mumbled, but it was too late. She was too far gone to fight it.

Armando grabbed Yara’s waist. His fingers dug into her shirt. He pulled her body flush against his. The heat of his chest pressed into her as his breath fanned across her neck.

He dipped his head. His soft lips brushed her warm, damp pulse point. Then, his lips attached to her skin as he began to kiss and suck on her neck.

Yara let out a small whimper; her breath hitched, sharp, and uneven. Her eyes shut, blocking out everything but the feeling of his mouth on hers.

His rough beard scratched her soft skin, sending electric shivers down her spine. Her heart pounded in her chest, echoing in her ears. His cologne—earthy, dark, with a hint of spice—mixed with the musk of his skin. It was intoxicating.

Armando’s big hands roamed over her waist. His fingers dug into her flesh, gripping her ass. She felt his possessiveness as if he never wanted to let go.

His hand slapped her ass. The sharp sting shocked her. She cried out. Her sound mixed with their heavy breaths in the small space between them.

His lips left a warm trail on her neck. As he pulled away, the cool air replaced his heat, and goosebumps rose on her skin.

Armando stared into her eyes. His intense gaze pulled her under. It made her forget everything but their burning desire.

“I missed you so much, baby. Let me show you,” he murmured, his voice rough and low, like gravel and smoke.

His hands explored every inch of her body, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Then, they settled on the button of her jean shorts. The small, metallic click of the button unfastening echoed in the quiet room. It was a prelude to what was coming.

Yara was already wet. Her body betrayed her before Armando even touched her. She was soaking wet. The ache between her thighs grew unbearable with each second of his hot touch. It was so wrong but felt so damn right.

“W-We can’t,” Yara stuttered, her voice breaking as his fingers unzipped her shorts. The sound echoed in the stillness. “I have a boyfriend; I’m with Lorenzo—”

The fabric slid down her thighs. Cool air brushed her exposed skin as it dropped to the floor with a soft thud.

“Fuck him,” Armando growled. His breath fanned her face. “I know he’s not fucking you right.”

His words were like a match to gasoline. They ignited the flames that had been simmering between them. They consumed Yara’s last shred of resistance.

Yara’s heart pounded. Each beat echoed in her ears as she watched Armando kneel. His eyes, dark and filled with a raw, primal hunger, bore into hers.

She could feel the heat of his gaze as it trailed down her body, igniting a fire under her skin.

When his hands reached for her panties, the touch was electric. Silky fabric glided down her thighs, spreading a radiant heat within.

The cool air met her exposed skin. Her wetness clung to the lace, forming a glistening string that caught the light.

Armando’s breath hitched, his eyes widening in awe as he took in the sight before him. His mouth parted slightly. She saw the hunger in his eyes. His tongue flicked out to wet his lips. His mouth watered with anticipation.

“Let me taste that sweet pussy, mami,” he whispered in Spanish. He then placed hot, wet kisses on her thighs.

“Yes, papi, please,” she whispered, her voice breathy and filled with need. She stepped out of her panties, the cool floor grounding her as she reached down. Her fingers curled around the back of Armando’s head. “Lick this pussy up.”

She felt the soft, warm texture of his hair. She guided him closer, her grip firm yet trembling. The moment was intense. She pulled him toward her as the tension between them peaked.

Armando wasted no time. He dove face-first into her pussy. His warm breath was against her skin as he buried himself in her heat. His juicy lips wrapped around her sensitive clit.

Her knees buckled, and a tremor ran up her spine. Armando’s beard grazed her inner thighs. It was rough, unlike his soft mouth. His hands slid behind her, strong and possessive. His fingers dug into her soft flesh to keep her from collapsing.

The air was thick with their arousal. It was heady and intoxicating. Armando’s lips and tongue worked on her, mixing with her breathless moans.

“Oh my god, oh my god,” Yara moaned, her voice trembling as waves of pleasure rolled through her. Her eyes fluttered shut, losing focus as Armando sucked the very soul out of her body.

The wet, rhythmic smacking of his lips against her soaked pussy sent shivers down her spine. The sound echoed in the heated room.

Her fingers gripped the back of his head. Her nails dug into his scalp as his hot tongue slipped into her slit. A burst of sensation shot through her, and she couldn’t hold back her cry.

“Fuck, Armando, oh baby!” Yara gasped.

“Mmm-hmm,” he hummed against her pussy. His deep voice vibrated, making her shudder.

Armando’s tongue moved with a primal hunger. It delved into her wet, tight hole. Each flick sent electric jolts through her body. She ground against his thick tongue, her hips desperate. Her eyes rolled back in ecstasy.

Her legs shook. Her thighs clamped around his head. Her stomach tightened, coiling with the promise of release.

Yara’s voice quivered, her nails digging into Armando’s back as her breath came in ragged gasps. “Oh, shit, I’m cumming,” she whispered, urgency in her voice.

Her body tightened, and her skin flushed and dampened. The heat inside her spiraled out of control. Armando’s tongue moved with a relentless, intoxicating rhythm. It delved deeper as her orgasm ripped through her. Her moans became sharp gasps as her juices spilled onto his mouth and chin. He savored the taste with eager, lingering slurps.

“Fuck, yes,” Yara sighed in relief. She ground her pussy against his face, riding out the last bits of her orgasm. Armando licked up the remnants of her arousal, and then he gave her pussy a sloppy kiss before standing to his feet.

Armando pulled Yara close and kissed her. She tasted herself on his lips. Their tongues intertwined, deepening the kiss. Then, Armando unbuckled his belt and unbuttoned his jeans. He kicked off his boots, boxers, and jeans before kicking them to the side. His dick was hard and leaking pre-cum from the tip. He stroked it while moaning into her mouth; he pulled away from the kiss and looked at her with low eyes.

“I’m so hard for you, baby,” Armando groaned as more pre-cum dripped from him onto the floor. “Fuck.”

Yara’s eyes fell to his big fat dick. Her lips formed a small O. Her clit throbbed as she recalled how good it felt. How his dick used to dig deep in her guts and make her cum so hard and fast. She wanted to get on her knees and take him in her mouth. But Armando stopped her. He said tonight was about her.

“Fuck me, Armando, I need you,” Yara begged, reaching down between them as she grabbed his dick, stroking it slowly.

Without warning, Armando grabbed Yara and lifted her, positioning her over the tip of his dick. His hands were under her ass. Yara squealed at the sudden movement and hugged his shoulders. She hummed as she felt his tip brush her swollen lips.

“Give me that dick, papi,” she demanded, pressing her sweaty forehead against his. Her breath tingled his wet lips.

Armando’s lips made soft contact with hers; his eyes bore into hers. Yara’s head lolled back, and her eyes shut as she slid down on his thick dick. It gave her that deep, delicious stretch like she knew Lorenzo couldn’t.

“Oh, fuck,” she whined, burying her face in his sweaty neck.

“All I could think about, rotting in that cell, was getting back into this wet, tight pussy,” Armando grunted. He bounced her up and down on his dick, his balls slapping her ass.

Yara’s eyes rolled into the back of her head as she held on tight. She couldn’t believe how good he was dropping dick off in her right in the middle of the living room. And knowing that Lorenzo could come home from work and catch them at any minute made her pussy clench.

Armando groaned as her walls gripped his dick. He rutted up into her gushy pussy, fucking her harder and deeper. She screamed and dug her nails into his shoulders through his T-shirt.

“Your new man fucking you like this? Huh?” he asked before using one hand to pop her ass cheek. “Does he make this pussy leak like that?”

“No, Daddy,” Yara whined, her legs shaking around his waist. His tip hit her G-spot with precision, making her pussy cream down his dick.

“I didn’t think so,” Armando smirked; his tone was cocky.

Yara’s stomach fluttered as her pussy pulsed around his dick, signaling her orgasm. She pulled away from his neck and kissed him. Their hot tongues tangled as Armando kept hitting her spot.

“I’m cumming, oh fuck, I’m about to cum so hard, Armando,” she announced.

“Cum on this dick, mami. It’s all yours,” Armando urged her on, moaning into her hair. “Buen culo, coño,” he growled. “Good ass pussy.”

Yara cried out as she came. Her legs felt like noodles. She was weak and slipped from Armando’s grasp. He grabbed her tightly against his chest and held her up, whispering in her ear how much he missed her tight pussy.

He slipped his dick out of her, and she moaned, laying her head on his shoulder as he carried her down the hall to the bedroom.

Armando tossed her onto the bed, her body bouncing from the impact as she let out a small yelp. He stared at her, his eyes feverish as he took off his shirt, leaving him nude.

He grabbed her legs and pulled her to the end of the bed, spreading her legs as he got between them.

“Te amo, Yara,” Armando whispered, climbing on top of her. Her body sank beneath his heavy frame. “So fucking much.”

“Te amo, baby,” she replied, cupping her face in her hands. “I need you.”

Armando bit his lip. He grabbed her legs and placed them on his broad shoulders. Then, he slid into her pussy. She gasped.

Yara’s eyes were low and heavy. She devoured him with her eyes. Her breasts bounced in her tank top as Armando thrust into her pussy.

“Show me those pretty titties, baby,” Armando ordered. He reached down to pull her round breasts out from her tank top. “So fucking gorgeous.”

The sound of their skin slapping echoed throughout the room. Sweat from Armando’s forehead fell onto her skin. He held the back of her thighs as he began pounding into her, wet, loud noises coming from her pussy.

“Oh, that dick is good, don’t stop,” she moaned. Her nails dug and scratched the back of his forearms.

“I love this pussy so much, I’m not going anywhere,” Armando said. He slapped her breasts and twisted her nipples. He continued pounding her pussy.

“Shit, I’m about to cum again!” Yara whined.

Her stomach tightened as she reached down to rub her sensitive nub. Yara could feel another orgasm, getting ready to hit the surface. Her legs shook as Armando pushed them by her head.

“Vamos, mami,” Armando grunted, slapping her ass. “I’m right behind you, cum on this dick.”

She screamed as Armando pounded deeper, hitting her G-spot. Yara began cumming. Her cream coated his dick as Armando smacked her hand away from her clit, replacing it as she continued to gush.

“Oh my god, Armando!” Yara shouted as he fucked her through her orgasm. “I love the way you fuck me.”

“Fuck, I’m about to cum,” Armando hissed, his dick twitching inside her wetness. “Here it comes, oh, shit.”

Yara shivered as Armando filled her pussy up with hot strings of cum. She moaned at the feeling of her walls contracting around his dick, taking every drop of cum.

Armando collapsed on top of Yara, and they shared a passionate kiss, their sweat mixing. Their eyes found each other, a smile crept onto each of their faces, a mix of relief and lingering tension. Armando brushed a strand of Yara’s jet-black hair away from her face, his thumb tracing the curve of her cheek.

“Te extrañé tanto,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, the weight of the years they’d lost pressing down on them.

Yara’s breath caught as she gazed up at him, her chest heaving. “I missed you too, Armando,” she said, her voice soft. It was almost hesitant as if she were afraid to say it.

Armando smiled and climbed off her. He played beside her and wrapped his arm around her, pulling her into him.

Yara rested her head on Armando’s chest, tracing idle patterns across his skin. The steady beat of his heart beneath her ear was comforting, but she knew it was a fragile illusion. She clung to it, aware that it was about to shatter.

The scent of sex and sweat hung in the air, mixed with Armando’s cologne. For a brief moment, the world outside didn’t exist—it was only them, tangled in a bed of deceit.

Then, the metallic clink of keys in the door shattered the calm. Yara stiffened, her breath catching as reality crashed down.

She bolted upright, the sheet slipping off her shoulders. Panic flared in her eyes as she scanned the room. “Shit, Lorenzo’s back.”

“Let him come,” Armando said, his voice low and mocking. He didn’t move, not even a flicker of concern. A smirk played on his lips as if the idea of confrontation amused him. “He’s about to find out what happens when you fuck with what’s mine.”

The door creaked open. Lorenzo’s voice echoed down the hallway, casual and unaware. “Yara? Baby, I’m home!”

Yara’s heart pounded as his footsteps neared the bedroom. She scrambled to pull the sheet around her, but it was too late.

Lorenzo’s silhouette filled the doorway, his eyes widening in shock at the scene before him—the tangled sheets, the discarded clothes, and Armando—unbothered—beside her exuding arrogance.

“The fuck is this?” Lorenzo growled, his voice low and dangerous, slicing through the tension. His eyes locked onto Armando with fury, masking the fear lurking beneath. He knew he was out of his depth.

Armando’s smirk widened as he stood, exposing his nakedness. “Damn, looks like you’ve been slippin’, bro,” he taunted, his voice dripping with disdain. He rose, towering over Lorenzo, his steps calculated. “What are you gonna do about it?”

Lorenzo’s fists clenched, the veins in his neck bulging. “I’ll fucking kill you.”

“Try it,” Armando sneered, stepping closer. His voice was a menacing growl that promised violence. The room seemed to shrink around them, the air thick with tension.

Before Lorenzo could swing, Yara’s voice, raw and desperate, cut through the standoff. “Stop it! Lorenzo, this isn’t what you think—”

“Fuck what I think,” Lorenzo snapped, his eyes narrowing with disgust. “You think I’m some fucking idiot? I wasn’t at work tonight, Yara. I was with another bitch, and guess what? She was better than you—way fucking better.”

The words hit Yara like a sledgehammer, knocking the air from her lungs. She knew their relationship wasn’t perfect, but this was a gut punch she hadn’t seen coming.

Armando’s expression darkened, his smirk gone, replaced by rage. “You’re a fucking coward,” he spat, his voice cold. He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. “You don’t deserve her.”

“And you do?” Lorenzo shot back, his voice trembling with a mix of rage and fear. “You’re a fucking convict. Yeah, I know ‘bout you, nigga. You ain’t nothing but a lowlife piece of shit.”

That was the last straw. Armando’s fist flew, connecting with Lorenzo’s jaw with a sickening crack. Lorenzo stumbled back, crashing into the dresser. The two men collided in a brutal fight. Fists flew, and blood splattered across the room.

Yara screamed, hands flying to her mouth. Tears streamed down her face, but she stood frozen, unable to stop the violence.

The sound of flesh hitting flesh, the grunts of pain, the raw rage in their eyes—it was a nightmare she couldn’t wake from.

It ended as quickly as it began. Armando stood over Lorenzo, chest heaving.

Bruises and blood covered his knuckles. He grabbed Lorenzo by the collar and dragged him down the hall to the front door, his strength terrifying.

“Get the fuck out,” Armando snarled, his voice low and deadly. “And if you ever come near her again, I’ll kill you.”

Lorenzo stumbled to his feet, wiping the blood from his mouth. Without a word, he bolted out the door, his footsteps echoing through the house as he fled into the night.

A suffocating silence fell. Only Armando’s heavy breathing and Yara’s quiet sobs broke it. Armando turned back to her, his expression softening. He pulled her into his arms, his embrace both possessive and comforting. She collapsed against him, her body shaking with emotion as the reality of what had happened sank in.

“I’m sorry,” Armando murmured, his voice thick with regret. He kissed the top of her head. “I’m so sorry, mami.”

They spent the night together, clinging to each other in a desperate attempt to find solace. But beneath the surface, the storm still raged.

Their relationship was far from settled. For now, they had each other, but the cost was high. And deep down, they both knew it wouldn’t be long before the next storm hit.

[yassbishimvintage]

An Us Thing

Something cute. Something slight.

Tyriq groaned as sunlight crept through the blinds, hitting him square in the face. His head throbbed like a bass drum, and his throat felt like sandpaper. “Man…” he muttered, rubbing his temples.

Then a soft voice cut through the quiet. “Good morning.”

He blinked, turning toward the sound. Aliyah was sitting at the edge of the bed, legs tucked underneath her, wearing one of his old Alpha Phi Alpha shirts — faded, but unmistakably his. Her curls were pulled up in a messy puff, and there was a calm, teasing smile on her face.

He squinted. “Wait… you here?”

Aliyah nodded, holding up a bottle of water and some pain relievers. “Yeah. Malik dropped you off last night, and I stayed to make sure you didn’t roll off the couch.”

Tyriq sat up slowly, wincing as the movement made his head pound. “I ain’t do nothin’ stupid, did I?”

She laughed softly. “No. You were just loud. And you kept talking about how you ‘run the yard.’”

He groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Ain’t no way I said that.”

“Oh, you said that three times,” she said, smirking. “But at least you didn’t start steppin’ in the kitchen again.”

“Again?” he asked, side-eyeing her.

She laughed, handing him the water. “Drink. You’re dehydrated and dramatic.”

He took a few sips, then looked at her for a long moment — quiet now, just studying her. “You really stayed the whole night?”

Aliyah shrugged lightly. “Yeah. Somebody had to make sure you made it to see senior brunch.”

He smiled faintly, his voice low. “You always takin’ care of me.”

Her expression softened. “Somebody’s gotta make sure you don’t forget how far you’ve come.”

Tyriq leaned back against the headboard, still groggy but smiling now. “Guess I owe you breakfast, huh?”

Aliyah smirked. “Guess you do.”

-

Tyriq gave her a sleepy grin, but before he could get a word out, Aliyah arched a brow and said, “You look rough, Ty. Like, real rough.”

He groaned and rubbed his face. “Man, don’t do me like that this early.”

She laughed and leaned against the dresser, crossing her arms. “I’m serious. You’re not getting any type of affection until you drink that water, eat something, and maybe shower off all that homecoming.”

He looked up at her, feigning offense. “No love? That’s crazy.”

Aliyah smirked, holding back a laugh. “Love? Oh, you’ll get love — once you stop smelling like a frat house and regret.”

Tyriq chuckled, wincing at his own headache. “Wow. So that’s how you talk to your man the morning after homecoming?”

“That’s how I talk to my man every morning after he forgets his limits,” she shot back, tossing him a clean towel from his dresser. “Go ahead, Mr. Senior. Prove you can handle your hangover.”

He caught the towel, shaking his head with a grin. “You lucky you fine, girl.”

Aliyah smiled, her tone softening. “Yeah, yeah. Just hurry up before brunch. I got plans for us today — and you’re not gonna want to miss them.”

Tyriq looked at her curiously. “Plans, huh?”

“You’ll see,” she said, smiling as she headed toward the kitchen. “Now move before I start without you.”

-

The morning, the air was warm but comfortable, the sun cutting through the tall oaks on campus. Students in shades of red and green still roamed the Yard, lingering from the night before, and the distant beat of music from the afterparty mixed with the chatter of the brunch crowd.

Tyriq and Aliyah had grabbed a table outside a popular local spot. Aliyah had ordered her favorite: grits, eggs, and a side of fruit. Tyriq had a huge plate of pancakes, bacon, and scrambled eggs — enough to fuel a football game.

But the food barely mattered — Tyriq had his arm casually draped over the back of Aliyah’s chair, leaning close enough that their shoulders brushed. Every time she reached for something on the table, he’d subtly shift closer, just enough to make her laugh or roll her eyes.

“You really all about that PDA today, huh?” Aliyah teased, nudging him gently with her elbow.

“All about showing you off,” Tyriq said with a grin, leaning down just slightly so his lips brushed her temple. “Homecoming weekend. Senior year. I’m not hiding my girl.”

Aliyah smiled, shaking her head but clearly enjoying it. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” he said, smirking. “But you love it.”

She laughed softly. “Maybe a little.”

The two of them chatted easily, talking about the previous night, teasing each other over how Tyriq had nearly tripped during the step show, and laughing at memories of the music and dancing. Every so often, his hand would brush hers across the table, and she wouldn’t pull away — even letting him sneak a small squeeze when she laughed too hard at one of his jokes.

Other students glanced their way, some smirking knowingly at the obvious closeness, but Tyriq didn’t care. He leaned in again, whispering in her ear with a grin,

“You ready for the rest of this weekend?”

Aliyah met his eyes, smiling softly. “With you? Always.”

He grinned, pulling her just a little closer, enjoying the warmth of her presence in the bright morning sun. Around them, the brunch crowd buzzed with life, but for a moment, it was just the two of them — laughing, teasing, and unapologetically together.

- Monday morning hit the campus like a reality check. The Yard was quiet, the tents and stages from Homecoming gone, trash bins emptied, and the smell of fried food from the weekend finally faded. Only a few students lingered, nursing coffee and trying to shake off the late-night celebrations.

Tyriq and Aliyah walked side by side across the quad, backpacks slung over their shoulders. The energy of the weekend was gone, replaced by the hum of students heading to their first classes. Even though it was Monday, there was a subtle glow on both of their faces — the kind that comes from having shared something special the past few days.

“I can’t believe it’s over,” Aliyah said softly, glancing at him. “The Yard looks… normal again.”

“Yeah,” Tyriq agreed, smiling. “Kinda boring now, huh?”

Aliyah nudged him with her shoulder. “You wish you were back at the parties.”

“Maybe,” he said, grinning. “But I’ll take this too — just me and you walking to class, no chaos, no loud music.”

She smiled, letting her hand brush against his as they walked. It was subtle, casual, but intentional. Tyriq caught her hand and gave it a small squeeze, just enough to make her grin.

“Still showing off, huh?” she teased.

“Always,” he said, leaning closer so his shoulder bumped hers. “You like it.”

They laughed softly, the campus quiet around them now, as they approached the building for their first class. Even in the return to normalcy, their energy from Homecoming lingered — the teasing, the warmth, the little touches — keeping the spark alive as they slipped back into the rhythm of senior-year life.

- Tyriq had managed to snag a quiet spot in one of the sunlit courtyards — a bench tucked behind a row of live oaks, the breeze rustling the leaves above. He leaned back, backpack on the ground, just letting himself breathe for a few minutes between classes. For a moment, it felt like he had the whole campus to himself.

He was scrolling through his phone when a familiar shout pierced the calm.

“Aye, Ty!”

He looked up to see three of his Alpha Phi Alpha brothers jogging toward him, grins wide. Malik was leading the pack, hands on his hips like he hadn’t run in ten years, but the energy was unmistakably frat.

“You hiding out already?” Malik teased as they reached the bench. “We just finished lunch, and here you are, acting like a senior ghost.”

Tyriq laughed, shaking his head. “Nah, I’m just… chillin’. Enjoying the calm before the storm of finals and graduation prep.”

“Chillin’?” one of the other brothers laughed, plopping down on the bench beside him. “You mean you tryna recover from Homecoming still. Don’t act like you weren’t out there wildin’.”

Tyriq smirked, leaning back. “I may have celebrated a little too hard. But I earned it. Senior year, remember?”

Malik shook his head with a grin. “Man, we still got next weekend. You ain’t off the hook yet. And you definitely owe Aliyah a proper showing off. You been all soft since Sunday.”

Tyriq raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Soft? Nah. I’m strategic. Can’t let all my energy show at once. Gotta pace myself.”

One of his brothers snorted. “Strategic? Bruh, we saw you at brunch. PDA central. You were basically glued to that girl.”

Tyriq laughed, his grin wide. “Guilty. Can’t help it. She’s my girl.”

Malik clapped him on the shoulder. “Aight, alright. But don’t get too comfy here. Class is in twenty. Let’s roll.”

Tyriq groaned dramatically, stuffing his phone into his pocket. “Fine, fine. But one day, I’m sitting here without anyone finding me.”

The brothers laughed, heading toward the next building, leaving Tyriq with that satisfied smile of a guy who’d survived Homecoming, spent the weekend with his girl, and now had a few hours to recharge before diving back into the chaos of senior year.

Tags 🏷️

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[theliterarybeldam]

So cute 🥹 🥰

[mymindisneverhere]

Stay The Night

Warnings: 18+ SMUT

Authors Note: Not much of a plot, just wanted to write for his lil fine ass. Enjoy! 🩵 (unedited) gif by: blank-potato

Tyriq reached down and wrapped his hands around her waist lifting her onto the bathroom counter. Walking himself forward, he pressed his lips against hers. Her eyes rolled closed as she basked in this moment. Their tongues danced around as if they had done this before.

He lifted her legs and pushed them up to her chest and pinned them there. Gigi wrapped her hands around each leg, licking her lips in anticipation. 

“Keep ‘em up.” He said, pulling the crotch of her panties to the side. 

She watched as he grabbed the stool she used when she did her make up in the morning. Sitting down, laser focused on her pussy, he licked her clit before sucking it into his mouth. 

She hissed, enjoying that first feel after not being touched in so long. Self pleasure was one thing. Of course her toys always got the job done. But nothing will ever come close to the actual feeling of being licked for the first time in months. 

The view Tyriq had was beyond majestic. The way her legs were positioned caused her breasts to squeeze together. Dark brown nipples sat at attention as he watched them harden with every lick. His eyes rose a bit to meet her face. She chewed her bottom lip while eyes remained closed.

He slipped two fingers into her all while still teasing her clit. He was loving the sounds she was making; the moans that left her mouth and the gushy sounds of her pussy. The more he rolled his fingers in a come hither motion, the more cream built up around his fingers. 

“Ohh that feels so fucking good!” Gigi cried, dropping her jaw against her chest. 

He ran his tongues in circles over her clit while he continued to finger fuck her. Matching the rhythm of his tongue with his fingers, it was just a matter of time before he got what he wanted out of her. He could feel her pussy clenching around his middle fingers and he knew she was about to cum. 

“Fuck Riq, yesssss!” 

The wet sounds of her cumming filled the room as his fingers became more soaked than before. He slowed his movement down before pulling out of her. Placing small kisses around her clit, he gave her a little time to come down. 

While Gigi focused on catching her breath, Tyriq dropped his hand down to his dick and used her juices to stroke himself. Already dripping with precum, he gripped himself tight and worked his hand from the base to the tip over and over again. 

He was ready to dive back in, to taste her one more time before he fucked her. His eyes raised up to her face and she seemed somewhat settled, somewhat ready for part two. 

He was careful. Using the edge of his tongue to caress her clit while he squeezed the head of his dick. The taste of her made his eyes roll into the back of his head. Eventually those short, gentle licks turned into hungry suction. 

Wrapping his lips around her clit, he pulled it into his mouth once again. This time refusing to unlatch. 

Her eyebrows damn near lifted into her hairline. Having her pussy sucked like this was beyond any feeling she had given herself. She wasn’t sure if it was his ability to eat her as if he already knew what her body needed or the fact that he was so engulfed in ecstasy. 

He was so in tune with her pussy like it was only him and her in the room. The way Tyriq allowed himself to unravel from her taste. He was so into it. As if he had been dying to be in between a woman’s legs. 

“Riq please.” She whimpered. 

Tyriq was so far gone he hadn’t heard her. Her thick pussy lips had pulled him in so deep. His face was soaked, chin dripping with his spit and her essence. All of this coupled with a fist full of his own dick, he wasn’t stopping until he only heard the cries of her…

“Oh fuck!” She cried out, trying to keep hold of her legs. 

The more she moaned the more he pulled on himself. His eyes were slits as the whites of them poked through. He was in complete bliss, under a spell and she didn’t even have to cast it. 

He was still latched onto her clit, sucking the sensitivity away. Her legs were shaking. She was torn between letting them go to free herself from his mouth and keeping still. 

Gigi had never pushed herself past her limit. As soon as she came, the vibrator would shut off. She was so sensitive when it came to pleasure, she had never experienced what her body would do if it were pushed a bit over edge. 

But she was finding out…

She gasped, squeezing the back of her thighs to prevent her from pushing his head. The more he sucked and rolled her clit around, the closer she was to cumming. 

“Ah fuck yes…” She moaned, feeling her body jerk as she came. Her legs shook in her hands. Her stomach flexing as she rode out her orgasm all while still feeling his lips on her pussy. 

He moaned heavily, loving the effects he was having on her. He knew nobody had made her feel like this before. That thought alone made his dick hard as stone in his hand. 

Tyriq sat up, lapping up the juices that traveled from her pussy down to her thick ass. His tongue slipped in between her crack as he cleaned her up and she moaned from the sudden feeling. She watched him use his tongue to clean her up. Making popping sounds as he sucked on her ass and inner thighs. 

After a few more seconds, he finally stood to his feet and stared down at her.  

“Condom?”

“I’m on the pill.” She spoke. 

He silently thanked the Gods. Tyriq was always careful with other girls. For him condoms were never optional with randoms. But he prayed that if he’d ever gotten a chance with her, he’d have permission to feel all of her raw and unfiltered.

He used his thumbs to spread her thick pussy lips. He didn’t want anything to prevent him from seeing himself when he entered her. It was so pink and gushy, shining from the mess he had made. He licked his lips again just to get a taste of the residue she left on his lips.

Gigi watched as a string of spit fell from his lips and onto her clit. The sight turned her on even more. The saliva landed just at the top of her clit before traveling down to her entrance. Before it could travel any further, Tyriq pushed into her, watching her pussy stretch around him. Her tight pussy pulled him in so well, he held his place for a few beats just to bask in the feeling. 

She hissed, feeling his girth split her open. Her pussy stung a bit but the pleasure had quickly taken over. 

Tyriq fucked her slowly. Pulling all the way out until he saw the tip of his dick before making it disappear again. She was so fucking wet, still so creamy from her cumming a few minutes ago. He let out a harsh breath in an effort to cover up a moan that was threatening to leave his throat. 

“Pussy so fucking pretty.” He mumbled, more so to himself. 

She stared up at him, mouth open. Her gaze was set on his face but all of her focus, all of her feeling had gone to her pussy. 

He studied her face; bedroom eyes, parted lips and curled eyebrows. The way she looked at him as he fucked her was nothing like he imagined in his head. It was so much better.

“You know how long I’ve been waiting for this?” He said, still staring her down. 

“No.” She breathed out. 

“Since the first day I met you.” He leaned forward, pulling her legs around his waist.

She whined. 

He rocked his hips into hers, placing kisses on her lips and jawline. She wanted to kiss him back but the long strokes he gave her prevented her from doing anything else. He dropped his head down to her shoulders and kissed her there. 

Since he had a hold on her legs, her hands were free to roam and they landed right against his abdomen. He was so deep in her pussy, she could damn near feel him in her belly. She used her hands to somewhat prevent him from digging deeper but it was no use. 

The more she pressed against him, the harder he fucked her. He wanted her to coat his dick like she’d done his fingers. She took a deep breath and when he didn’t hear her exhale, he knew she needed a little guidance. 

“Stop holding it in baby, I wanna hear you.” 

“It’s- so-“ She said before stopping herself. 

“So what baby?” He asked, still planting kisses on her neck and fucking her. 

“Deep.” She said before taking a sharp breath. He managed to walk himself forward some more, positioning himself much deeper than before. 

“Breathe baby.” In her mind he was taunting her, fucking her to the point of speechlessness. But he was simply trying to coach her into a pleasurable experience. 

He lifted his head to meet her eyes. They were still so low, slightly rolled up into her head. Every stroke he gave her was a full nine inches from tip to balls deep. There was no room for recovery and he enjoyed it. Although he wanted to make sure she got hers, his ego inflated just a bit from the sight of her floating due to the dick he was giving her. 

“You feel so good in my pussyyy.” The words came out a bit slurred as if she was inebriated. 

“Feel good baby?” He murmured against her lips. 

“Yesssss.” 

“You know what I need you to do?”

“Hm?”

“Cum on my dick.” 

She let out a loud moan. They sat with their lips resting against one another's. The melodies of her sopping pussy and his thighs slapping against her ass bounced off of the walls. 

“Can you do that for me?”

“Yea…” She whispered. 

“Cream on my dick.” 

Tyriq sped up, slapping his hips into hers, a stroke right after the last. Gigi bit down on her lip, trying to hold it all together. But Tyriq knew what he wanted and he was determined to get it. 

“Oh my god!’ She said a bit louder than intended. ‘Fuck yes!”

Tyriq stood up straight, still keeping her legs pinned back so he could see the mess she made on his dick. His name being called out over and over again coupled with the sight of the white coating on his dick only allowed him a few more strokes before he was cumming as well. 

“Fuuuuuuck.” His hips pressed against her ass as cum leaked from his dick. He squeezed her thighs tightly until he could feel all of his nut paint her cervix. 

Gigi was still coming down from her own orgasm, feeling her walls pulse around him. They both sat still, breathing heavy and allowing their bodies to return to normal. 

After a few moments, they both opened their eyes and stared at each other. Tyriq licked his lips and blinked slowly while he looked at her. 

“Stay with me tonight.” He asked. 

“Okay...” 

[theliterarybeldam]

What a read, my god 😩

[douceurrrr]

sex and the city

tyriq withers x lawyer!black!reader

- you’re a lawyer in manhattan, a high-powered lawyer in manhattan. you have your life perfectly organized: winning cases, luxury lunches with her girls, and zero time for distractions, but a boring sex life. when a new assistant young, charming, and annoyingly handsome joins your firm, everything starts to blur.

warnings: age gap, slightly suggestive. dirty talk if you squint, slight tension.

part 2?

-

new york smelled like ambition and mimosas that morning.

“girl, you cannot tell me you didn’t call him back,” your homegirl denise says as her head throws back in laughter, acrylics tapping the rim of her champagne glass.

tammi rolled her eyes , adjusting her silk strap of her cami. “i’ve got depositions, deadlines, and no time for another man who thinks ‘good morning’ is foreplay.”

the table broke out into a fit laughter, enough to turn heads. them four of them tammi, denise, cheri, and you were the picture of downtown decadence: heels kicked off, under the table, gold and diamond jewelry glinting in the late-morning sun as your gucci and prada bags waved at each other.

“please.” you snorted. “you love to be reckless, remember that dude with the tongue ring?”

tammi gasped. “that was a phase,” she says, sipping her mimosa. “just like my ‘let’s date emotional unavailable men’ phase,” she shrugged.

cheri raised her brows. “you’re still in that phase.”

the table howled once again, but tammi just smiled with tight lips that said ‘I’ll let you believe you’re right’ smiles.

then cheri froze. “ou who is that?”

everyone looks out the window, lowering their sunglasses. he was crossing the street tall, lean, light brown skin catching the sunlight honey. curls tousled in a way what was too intentional to be a accident. he wore a white button-up, sleeves rolled up to his forearms, and that confident, yet a little nervous walk like he knew people were watching but careful.

“whew,” tammi murmured. “god took his time.”

denise let out a low whistle. “baby he looks like he majors in breaking hearts and apologizing pretty.”

you tried not to stare, but your eyes betrayed you, following his every step as he passed the window. their eyes meet for a split second and your stomach dipped as you quickly look away, clearing your throat.

“anyways,” you trailed off, pretending to cheat our phone. “some of us have work to do.”

cheri smirked. “mhm. some of us are busy too.”

the firm was quiet in that familiar afternoon lull. the air smelled of coffee and old law books. you walked into your office, heels clicking with coffee in one hand and prada in the other, your mind still half on her clients’s file, until you noticed someone sitting across your desk.

“can I help you?” you asked, setting you bag down.

he stood up.

it was him.

same curls, same hair, same shoulders, now with a smirk that looked dangerous up close.

he extended a hand. “hi ms.y/l/n i’m tyriq withers. here to interview for the assistant position.”

for a second, your mind goes blank. she was the composed one, the women who could cross-explain anyone into silence, but this? this was different, you can’t explain or argue this one.

she blinked, taking his hand. “of course,” you said before motioning to the chair, “have a seat.”

he smiled, slow and knowing, showing the dip and the smile lines on the corner of his mouth. and just like that the room felt hot and complicated, but you’ve dealt with far more complicated cases in your lifetime, she this should be easy. should it?

you flip through the file on your desk pretending to read it even though you’ve already memorized every line “so tyriq, tell me why your interested in this position.”

he sits across from you, posture easy but eyes sharp. “i’ve always been good at keeping things organized. figured it was time to use that for someone important.”

you hum. “and what makes you think I’m important?”

he smirks, a quick flash of teeth. “the way everyone stood up straighter when you walked in.”

you look up from the papers. “flattery isn’t in the job description.”

“didn’t mean it as flattery,” he says smoothly. “just an observation.”

you take a breath, reminding yourself that this is a job interview for a assistant position not for your sex life. “all right, observation noted. tell me about your previous work experience.”

he gives his rundown internships, office assistant gigs, a stint managing paperwork for a small firm in brooklyn. he’s young, but there’s an ease to the way he talks, like he’s used to being listened to.

when he’s finished, you nod. “you seem qualified. what would you say your weaknesses are?”

he leans back slightly, eyes glinting “depends on who’s asking.”

you raise an eyebrow. “in this case your potential employer.”

“then i guess i’d say i can get a little too focused. sometimes I notice… details i shouldn’t.”

you set the pen down slowly. “such as?”

he tilts his head, considering. “like how your necklace matches your nail polish. or how you haven’t taken a single note since I started talking, which probably means you already decided if you’re hiring me or not.”

your jaw tightens, not out of anger, but something you can’t quite name. “you’re observant.”

he shrugs. “it’s apart of the job, isn’t it? to pay attention to what the boss needs, even if she doesn’t say it out loud.”

for a moment, the room is silent except for the sound of the clock ticking behind you. you clear your throat and close the folder.

“i’ll be in touch once i’ve reviewed all the candidates,” you say, standing to signal the end of the interview.

he rises too, a little slower, still watching you with that unreadable expression. “take your time,” he says, smiling. “but I think we’d make a good team.”

you shake his hand firm, professional, nothing more and yet you feel it all the way up your arm.

“have a good afternoon, mr. withers.”

“you too, ms. y/l/n.” he pauses at the door, glancing back. “oh—and for the record? you definitely already decided.”

then he leaves, and you’re left staring at the door, trying to remember how to breathe, trying to ignore the dampness of your panties.

you tell yourself he’s just another applicant. there are dozens of resumes on your desk, all of them competent, all of them safe. still, the air in the office only shifts for a certain person, it’s like static.

you try to focus on your work, but his words keep circling back: I think we’d make a good team. maybe it’s the confidence in this tone, or maybe it’s the way he said it, low and sure, like a promise.

by the next morning, you’ve convinced yourself it’s nothing. he’s young, ambitious, and maybe a little smooth for his own good. but when HR sends over the finalize paperwork and his start date lands on your calendar, you stare at the name tyriq withers longer than you mean to.

you kept telling yourself that it’s fine and that you’ve hired plenty of assistants in the past but you knew yourself too well, and even though it’s true, none of those assistants were as fine as tyriq.

when monday comes, you step into your office with a coffee in your hand, only to find tyriq there before you. he’s organized, smiling like he’d been waiting for this moment.”

“morning boss.” he says, voice easy but has a purpose behind it.

and just like that the game begins.

[yassbishimvintage]

College Daze

The air was alive — that unmistakable Homecoming energy that only FAMU could create. The Yard was packed shoulder to shoulder with students, alumni, Greeks, and vendors. The bass from the DJ booth rolled through the crowd like thunder, and everywhere you looked were splashes of orange and green, gold and black, crimson and cream — tradition layered on legacy.

Tyriq adjusted the collar of his black-and-gold Alpha Phi Alpha line jacket, embroidered with his line name “Visionary” across the back. He had that calm confidence about him — the kind that came from knowing he’d earned every letter, every stitch. But today, his focus wasn’t on flexing for photos or dap-ups from his frat brothers. He was looking for her.

“Yo, you seen Aliyah?” he asked his prophyte, who was holding a plate of jerk chicken and laughing with a group of sorors.

“Aliyah?” the brother smirked. “You talkin’ about your Aliyah? Bro, you know the Deltas been deep by the fountain all morning. Check over there.”

Tyriq nodded, flashing that trademark half-grin before weaving through the crowd. The sun hit just right — glinting off the gold letters stitched on his sleeve as he moved. Phones were out, people were shouting him out for his last Homecoming as a student — “Yo, Withers! Senior year, my boy!” — but he wasn’t hearing any of it.

His eyes were scanning the sea of people for one thing: that crimson jacket.

Aliyah Carter. Delta Sigma Theta, Spring ‘24 line. Smart, fierce, and beautiful in that way that made people stop mid-sentence. She’d been his girl since sophomore year, the kind of love that felt like both a partnership and a challenge — iron sharpening iron.

He spotted her across the Yard — laughing with her line sisters, sunlight catching on the DST jacket embroidered with her name and her number: #7 “Heartbreaker.” Her hair was pulled back into a high puff, edges laid, and she was wearing the smallest gold anklet — the one he bought her.

For a second, he just stood there, soaking it in. The way she carried herself, the confidence, the pride — everything about her screamed FAMU excellence.

Then he started walking.

The crowd parted almost naturally, people giving him daps or moving aside as the Alpha and the Delta locked eyes from across The Yard. The DJ switched the track to something smoother — “Before I Let Go” by Maze featuring Frankie Beverly — and the crowd cheered, waving their hands in the air.

Aliyah saw him before he reached her. Her lips curved into that teasing smirk he knew too well.

“I was wondering when my favorite Alpha was gonna show up,” she said, crossing her arms but unable to hide her smile.

“Had to make an entrance,” he replied, brushing invisible lint off his jacket. “You know the senior send-off gotta be legendary.”

Her line sisters giggled behind her, whispering to each other. Tyriq extended a hand, palm up — playful, confident.

“Come walk with me,” he said.

“You asking or telling, Withers?” she teased, still holding his gaze.

“Both,” he grinned.

She finally slipped her hand into his, her red-painted nails contrasting with the gold stitching of his jacket. Together, they walked through The Yard — Alpha and Delta, campus royalty in motion. People watched, nodded, smiled.

“So,” Aliyah said, looking up at him. “What’s next after graduation, Mister Senior?”

“Still figuring that out,” he admitted. “But right now? I’m just tryna make sure my last FAMU Homecoming is with you.”

She smiled softly, shaking her head as they reached the fountain — their usual spot since sophomore year.

“You really saying all the right things today, huh?” she said.

“I’m an Alpha,” he smirked. “We were built for this.”

She laughed — that full, bright laugh that made every long night and every argument worth it. And for a moment, in the middle of all the chaos, music, and heat, it was just them — two students who had grown up together under the orange and green lights, holding on to a piece of history before the world called them forward.

-

The music on The Yard was still booming — laughter, bass, and the constant energy of reunion — but Tyriq and Aliyah had drifted away from the crowd, finding their own quiet corner behind the old fountain near the Eternal Flame.

The air was cooler here, the sound of splashing water muffling the chaos from the rest of campus. Streetlights cast a soft orange glow across the brick path, catching the gold accents on Tyriq’s Alpha Phi Alpha jacket and the crimson lettering of her Delta Sigma Theta one.

They stood there for a moment — not saying much, just taking in the stillness.

Then Aliyah broke it.

“You been MIA prior to this week,” she said softly, looking up at him, her voice calm but edged with truth.

Tyriq’s jaw flexed. He glanced away for a second, rubbing the back of his neck before answering.

“Yeah… I know,” he said finally. “I’ve been moving a lot — trying to finish senior projects, football, job interviews, trying to figure out what’s next.”

She tilted her head slightly, eyes narrowing in that way that told him she wasn’t buying the surface-level answer.

“Tyriq, I get all that,” she said. “But you didn’t just go ghost on campus — you went ghost on me.”

That hit.

He sighed, stepping closer until he was right in front of her. The distance between them was small, but the silence in it was heavy.

“Aliyah… I ain’t mean to disappear. I just—”

He paused, trying to find the right words. “Sometimes it feels like everything’s moving faster than I can keep up. Everybody’s got expectations — the bros, the coaches, my professors, my people at home. I didn’t wanna bring you into that mess while I was trying to figure my own head out.”

Aliyah crossed her arms, lips pursed. She wasn’t angry — just disappointed.

“You don’t get to decide what I can handle,” she said quietly. “If we’re really together, I’m supposed to be there while you figure it out. That’s how this works.”

Her words hit deep. Tyriq nodded slowly, the guilt settling in his chest like weight. He reached out, fingers brushing the sleeve of her jacket.

“You right,” he admitted. “And I hate that I made you feel like you weren’t part of the picture. That’s not what I wanted. You’re—”

He stopped himself, looking her dead in the eyes.

“You’re my balance, Li. When everything else gets loud, you’re the one thing that feels real.”

She blinked, caught between frustration and the warmth of hearing the truth. The fountain splashed softly behind them, the night breeze moving just enough to lift the hem of her jacket.

“Then don’t shut me out next time,” she said finally.

“I won’t,” he promised. “Not again.”

For a moment, they just stood there, close enough to feel each other breathe. Then Aliyah stepped forward and rested her hands against his chest, the DST letters brushing against the Alpha crest on his jacket.

“You look good, though,” she murmured, half teasing now. “That jacket’s dangerous.”

He smirked, leaning down just enough for his breath to ghost against her ear.

“You know you like it,” he said.

“I do,” she said, smiling. “But I like the man under it better.”

Tyriq chuckled quietly, the tension between them melting into something softer — something that felt like coming home.

“Then I guess I better make sure he shows up more often,” he said.

Aliyah looked up at him again, eyes glinting under the light.

“Yeah,” she said, voice steady. “You better.”

And when the next wave of music swelled from the Yard — Frankie Beverly fading into Lil Baby — Tyriq took her hand, intertwining their fingers. They didn’t need to say anything else. The silence between them wasn’t distance anymore — it was peace.

-

Aliyah’s fingers were still tangled with Tyriq’s when the sound of her phone buzzed against her jacket pocket. The vibration broke the stillness like a ripple through calm water. She glanced down, then sighed softly when she saw the name flashing across the screen.

It was Maya, her line sister.

“Of course,” she muttered under her breath, shaking her head a little.

Tyriq raised an eyebrow.

“You good?”

“Yeah,” she said, already knowing what the call meant. “They’ve been blowing up my phone since I left The Yard. We’re supposed to be meeting for the step show lineup.”

She looked back at him — that mix of duty and reluctance on her face. She didn’t want to go, not when they had finally started to talk, to really talk.

Tyriq nodded slowly, reading her hesitation.

“You should go,” he said quietly. “Don’t let me mess up your line business.”

“You’re not messing it up,” she said quickly. “It’s just—”

Her words faded when Maya called again, her ringtone echoing faintly under the hum of the fountain.

Aliyah exhaled and hit decline, just for a second. She turned back to Tyriq, eyes searching his face like she wanted to memorize it.

“You always do this,” she said softly. “Say the right thing, make me feel everything—and then life pulls me away before I can even process it.”

Tyriq smiled faintly, though there was a bit of sadness behind it.

“Then I guess that’s how you know it’s real,” he said. “’Cause even when life pulls you away, you still feel it.”

That made her pause. For a heartbeat, she just stared at him — eyes warm, expression softening. Then, finally, she reached up and adjusted the collar of his Alpha jacket.

“You need to stop saying things like that,” she said quietly. “You’re gonna make it hard to leave.”

“That’s kind of the point,” he murmured.

She laughed under her breath, that quiet, genuine sound that always made him feel at ease. Then her phone buzzed again — this time a text from Maya:

“Li, we’re on stage in 15. Move!”

Aliyah sighed and finally pulled back, slipping her phone into her jacket pocket.

“I gotta go,” she said reluctantly.

“I know,” Tyriq replied. “Go kill it. I’ll be in the crowd.”

She smiled at that, already picturing him cheering from the stands.

“You better be. And if I don’t see you, I’m calling you out during the stroll.”

“You wouldn’t,” he grinned.

“Try me,” she teased, flashing that dimpled smile before turning away.

Tyriq watched her walk off, the red of her jacket standing out like a flame against the crowd as she disappeared back toward The Yard.

He exhaled, running a hand down his face and glancing up at the sky, the faint hum of laughter and music rolling over the campus.

“Senior year,” he muttered to himself with a small smile. “Gotta make it count.”

Then he turned toward the direction of the step show, the sound of the Deltas’ chant starting to echo in the distance — and for a moment, all he could think about was her voice, her laugh, and the way she said his name when it was just them.

[theliterarybeldam]

Ahhh 🥹🥹 the fic I needed so bad!!